I am music.
I am rock and country, hip hop, blues, dub step, scratch, fucking yodeling.
I am music.
Once a journalist for some mediocre music rag asked me how it felt to be one of the top “female musicians.”
I threw a guitar at him.
It was a nice guitar.
Of course, that story was more popular than any story about any awards I’ve won.
I am music.
I sing with soul and play until my fingers bleed in a sacrifice onstage. I give my all to my fans, I love them. Every single one of them.
Now, I’m sitting by the pool in some desert hotel far from home, smoking a cigarette and drinking some kind of expensive fizzy water wondering when I’ll stop being a female musician and finally be qualified as a musician.
Another journalist asked about my name – Judas Thunderhead. I just laughed, told him it was a spiritual name from my ancestors. Bullshit. I was 17 and it sounded fucking cool. It’s the name of power chords and Woodstock riots, of leather and spikes and pyrotechnics. It’s strong and sexy and, fuck, it just fit me, you know?
There’s power in names. Especially in a name that you choose for yourself. You just have to learn to embrace it, to own it and everything that comes with it.
Like Queen Joan said “I don’t give a damn about my reputation.” People can think whatever they want of me. I’ve been called a bitch so many times, mostly by men, that it’s become a totally meaningless word.
My music is what’s important to me. Does it elicit some kind of response from you? Good, then I did my job.
I am music.
I’m sitting in torn jeans and a stained t-shirt. Oh, if the internet could see me now! “Female Musician gains weight. Goes out in public dressed like a hobo.” Fuck that, I’m comfortable.
I was asked to write about my process. Explain “to the masses” what it takes to write a hit song. Reveal my secret.
My secret? There is no fucking secret.The words come from my heart and the music follows. Melodies follow me from the toilet to the shower to a dive bar in the Village. There is no process. It’s more of an obsession.
I wish I could have helped you more. It’s got to be in your veins. You have to be music.
Smoke cigarettes. Drink whiskey. Sleep around. Make friends. Start fires. Get into fights. Fall in love. Have a family. Read a book. There, that’s the process for you. Just, live, kiddos.
Judas Thunderhead
Somewhere in the desert
August, 2014.
The Literary Bandit 