When we were young, we listened to a lot of punk music. So much that we dressed the part, went to shows, talked about whether or not some kid in guitar class 6 years ago actually pierced his cheek in class. It sounds glamorous until you get to the part where listening to any other type of music is a little forbidden. Listening to punk meant maintaining rigid standards that meant most days you were stuck listening to some shitty DRI rip-off while cruising to the music store in your friend’s car to see which rare (and always at least $27.95) Japan-only releases had arrived.
While flipping through Nerf Herder, wondering why they’re even in the Punk section, on your way to NOFX – your mind starts to wander in different directions. It starts to wander just enough that your eyes drift up and over to your left and contact a section so seemingly foreign that you’re not even sure a glance is appropriate in polite Punk company.
A few years later you realize you’re a blithering music idiot listening only to punk, constantly blathering on about selling out and the man and whatnot.
Those trips to the record store become less frequent over time but they do take on a new life of sorts. Instead of the punk beeline, you perform more of a dance around the store in search of new and exciting. Then the moment happens, the moment where a reforming punk gazes into the mouth of the forbidden…Pink Floyd. Your party line about John Lydon’s shirt keeps reverberating in your head, but that was the old you…right?
One of classic rock radio’s staples is Pink Floyd, and for years they have remained the old guard to punks, something to be scorned, ignored. Eventually though, good taste kicks in and warps minds and after your first listen it becomes difficult to comprehend why you lived by so many rules.
Rules are for people that need something to hold and to have, something tangible that grounds them, perhaps convinces them to one day grow a ponytail to remember the good old days. That’s why when you’re breaking the rules, you don’t do it half-assed.
That’s why I’m telling you about Kendra Morris, a beautiful woman breaking the rule of not covering Pink Floyd. It’s impossible, you’re never going to compete and eventually, if it was a big enough flop, your name gets tossed around by late-night comedians in hackneyed ways.
That’s not the unthinkable Kendra Morris though, she pulled it off, she managed to nail a Pink Floyd song. With this, she has attained the almost unattainable, properly covering a song. Go get stoned, or don’t, it’s your choice but either way you’re in for one hell of a ride.