See A Little Light: The Trail of Rage and Melody

A song that straight people related to, now they find out it's about two guys? The flip side, or what I now know to be the upside, was that I had a large audience who might not have known about my homosexuality, were very attached to the work, and could now see that love and loss and hope are universal emotions that can't be owned, controlled, or denied by law or religion.

Growing up in a violent house makes you hypervigilant -- you do everything in your life to make sure the egg doesn't break. The vigilance, along with the depression and the demons I battle, it all mixes together and shows up in my work. I beat myself up when things get out of control. I was supposed to be watching over it. Even more disturbing is the realization that I alone can create an utterly hopeless catastrophe. The only way to control it is to create it. Write it and it shall be so -- the prescient thought.

Beyond my personal reasons for not looking back, a Husker Du reunion would surely tarnish the history of the band. It's the rare occasion when a reunion tour is close or equal to what a band looked, sounded, and felt like "back in the day." ...I've left Husker Du in the past. I'm not interested in diminishing whatever legacy exists just so people can say, "I saw Husker Du." If you have an original ticket stub dated 1979-1987, you saw Husker Du. If not, you missed out.

You better grab a hold of something, simple but it's true; If you don't stop to smell the roses now, they might end up on you

We all live and die for the stories and the sounds. Sometimes we find them, other times they just happen upon us. We don’t always get a choice.

This ties around to my notion that the Church and rock music are very similar. There's a ritual in going to Mass and there's the ritual of going to see music or to dance at Blowoff. In reality, the stage was always the pulpit. That's what we do as musicians. We reach out and try to find or build community, and to foster a sense of belonging. When people come together and create a shared experience from a place of goodness, it can be really uplifting. Everyone can elevate together and build something that means a lot to them.

I thought all the way back to when I was a kid, not being able to tell anyone, not even my parents, about who I really was. I never had anyone to talk to, and I never looked to anyone to talk to -- because I didn't want to talk about it. If you're young and questioning and not able to voice it in safety, find a gay person in your community who you trust and respect, and get to know him and talk it all through with him. Find the big brother or the parent that you don't have at home and ask him to guide you and help you sort out all the emotions.

It reset and mended my freshly damaged and distorted view of life, and made me recognize that this thing we call music, this primal expression that we reshape and refine and define ourselves with, is the gift I was given. The ability to communicate what others feel but cannot fully express, the passing down and around of songs and stories, from Pete Townshend to Joey Ramone to me, to the audiences who take the time and effort to support our work and give us a way to support ourselves -- I'm thinking this is what I am supposed to be doing.

Jeff Hudson started me on a path that was key, and as life goes on it's become a mantra to me. It's that you're born into a family, your family of origin, and you're stuck with it. Once I recognized that, it freed me up to have a different kind of family: a family of choice. The people I surround myself with, spend holidays with, look to for support and comfort and validation -- that's my family of choice.