I am a Dashboard Confessional Fan
a requote from the DC message board from about 2 years ago:
I am a Dashboard Confessional fan.
There, I said it. I am a Dashboard Confessional fan.
Now, that may mean a lot of things to a lot of people. However, one thing it shouldn't mean is that I am a fan of a band.
You probably think I'm crazy for saying such a thing -- Dashboard Confessional is a band, are they not?
No. Dashboard Confessional is not a band. Dashboard Confessional is a guy.
I understand that many people have said what I'm about to say about many bands. If you'd like to discount or generalize what I'm about to write in that fashion, be my guest. Just know that while you're in the process of discounting me for being unoriginal, you're being just as unoriginal -- you're doing what most people would do in this very same instance. Which, consequently, means you're being hypocritical; last time I checked, that wasn't a very nice label to be saddled with. I digress.
Dashboard Confessional is not a band. Let's strip away Scott Schoenbeck, the bass player. Let's get rid of Mike Marsh, the drummer. And, for the time being, let's push Johnny Lefler off to the side. What are we left with?
A man by the name of Chris Carrabba, trusty guitar in hand.
That is Dashboard Confessional.
Dashboard Confessional, and you may not know this, is a man... his guitar... and his life. Plain, simple, cut and dry. It's a man who shares, by way of music, small fragments of his unapologetically confused life with the world. He takes these bits and pieces of himself, sets them to lyrics and music, and hands us something that every living human being desires: empathy... fellowship... more importantly, a deeply human connection.
Fact is, some of you reading this may still not be completely "getting it." You know what? That's okay.
Let me attempt to clarify exactly what "it" is.
"It," insofar as I can tell, is acknowledgement of a familiarity... an intimacy... an unspoken connection. Imagine a group of people -- a random sampling -- coming together and forming up in a common place. Once there, every person in the group of people feels as if they're standing in the presence of their best friends -- people who "get" them, who understand them, who can empathize on a very deep level with them. Picture a group of kids getting together in front of a venue and immediately knowing each other without having ever spoken a word to one another. That is "it."
What "it" isn't, however, is declaring yourself a "Number One Fan." "It" is not about who knows more about the band, or who owns more albums, or who has been to more shows, or who has more bootlegged performances on their hard drive. "It" is not about believing you hold seniority over others, or that you've been listening to Dashboard Confessional longer than someone else.
At the end of the day, "it" is about looking a fellow fan in the eye and just knowing. I'm not talking about telepathy or anything -- this isn't a really bad science-fiction flick. Take the concept of "soulmate," and apply it appropriately -- there is a common thread, a common interest that all Dashboard Confessional fans share.
We are the broken hearts. We are the confused. We are the ones who are trying to figure **** out. We are the ones who are not afraid to feel, but welcome feeling and emotion and believe both to be entirely noble and grand. We are weathered, and we are still standing. We find solace in knowing that we are not alone in the fight. We know.
I am a Dashboard Confessional fan... and I know.
I am a Dashboard Confessional fan.
There, I said it. I am a Dashboard Confessional fan.
Now, that may mean a lot of things to a lot of people. However, one thing it shouldn't mean is that I am a fan of a band.
You probably think I'm crazy for saying such a thing -- Dashboard Confessional is a band, are they not?
No. Dashboard Confessional is not a band. Dashboard Confessional is a guy.
I understand that many people have said what I'm about to say about many bands. If you'd like to discount or generalize what I'm about to write in that fashion, be my guest. Just know that while you're in the process of discounting me for being unoriginal, you're being just as unoriginal -- you're doing what most people would do in this very same instance. Which, consequently, means you're being hypocritical; last time I checked, that wasn't a very nice label to be saddled with. I digress.
Dashboard Confessional is not a band. Let's strip away Scott Schoenbeck, the bass player. Let's get rid of Mike Marsh, the drummer. And, for the time being, let's push Johnny Lefler off to the side. What are we left with?
A man by the name of Chris Carrabba, trusty guitar in hand.
That is Dashboard Confessional.
Dashboard Confessional, and you may not know this, is a man... his guitar... and his life. Plain, simple, cut and dry. It's a man who shares, by way of music, small fragments of his unapologetically confused life with the world. He takes these bits and pieces of himself, sets them to lyrics and music, and hands us something that every living human being desires: empathy... fellowship... more importantly, a deeply human connection.
Fact is, some of you reading this may still not be completely "getting it." You know what? That's okay.
Let me attempt to clarify exactly what "it" is.
"It," insofar as I can tell, is acknowledgement of a familiarity... an intimacy... an unspoken connection. Imagine a group of people -- a random sampling -- coming together and forming up in a common place. Once there, every person in the group of people feels as if they're standing in the presence of their best friends -- people who "get" them, who understand them, who can empathize on a very deep level with them. Picture a group of kids getting together in front of a venue and immediately knowing each other without having ever spoken a word to one another. That is "it."
What "it" isn't, however, is declaring yourself a "Number One Fan." "It" is not about who knows more about the band, or who owns more albums, or who has been to more shows, or who has more bootlegged performances on their hard drive. "It" is not about believing you hold seniority over others, or that you've been listening to Dashboard Confessional longer than someone else.
At the end of the day, "it" is about looking a fellow fan in the eye and just knowing. I'm not talking about telepathy or anything -- this isn't a really bad science-fiction flick. Take the concept of "soulmate," and apply it appropriately -- there is a common thread, a common interest that all Dashboard Confessional fans share.
We are the broken hearts. We are the confused. We are the ones who are trying to figure **** out. We are the ones who are not afraid to feel, but welcome feeling and emotion and believe both to be entirely noble and grand. We are weathered, and we are still standing. We find solace in knowing that we are not alone in the fight. We know.
I am a Dashboard Confessional fan... and I know.