Α Ω

Dear Neil Young:

Thank you for fashioning the electric guitar into the aleph. Some are born to sweet delight / Some are born to endless night.

Matt

Dear Jim:

JIIIIIMMMMM!!:!:!:!!!!!!!!!!!!! JJJJJJJJIIIIIIMMMMMMMM!!!!

Loved your Ratt solo with Wolf Eyes and Sonic Youth in Salt Lake City, Which Is The Place.

You little fucker. What is it with Chicago and theory losers? Thanks for the Fahey tip; no thanks for leaving him out to the fucking wolves.

Japan. Where's your movie dude?

Missign You, XOXOX
Matt

P.S. Still working on a halfway

I Am the Cosmos

Dear Chris:

You're dead, but you didn't die before you could sing through the sickest mics and route your drums through the sickest echo fx. You recorded some rocking songs without Alex. Maybe you liked the young pussy too (who shouldn't?), but I doubt you were lazy. You got everything: marimbas, synths, mellotrons, pianos, guitar with tone, slide, crackle, reverb, wood blocks, your beautiful voice, heartbreak. Cowbell. And You and Your Sister. Hope Eric C.'s not too much of a douche up there in heaven, but I bet John L.'s OK. I see Leadville, CO and a dream about an eagle when I listen to your posthumous record and envision its album cover. Thanks for what you left us.

Yours in Christ,

Matt

Point of Departure

Dear Andrew:

Why so sad?

Yours,
Matt