Amber [@museodynamics//patrixckstump.tumblr.com]
Flashback to a few years ago. A few years ago I would define myself as a loser who, more than anything, just wanted a way out. Cue the music, dim the lights. I tried to bury myself in songs that could save a life, tried to find a song so passionate it would reignite a song alike itself in me. Some sort of war chant, a song for survival, one I would play every morning before school just to remind myself that the world could suck it.
And then the thing happened. I’m pretty sure it was raining. Someone, all in caps, spent maybe a second of their time to type out and send THEY’RE BACK. I didn’t know what this meant, I had no idea. I was frankly slightly scared, I must say, because who’s back? and because, goddamn, this had retweets so it must have been something. And then the lyrics started and it started to make sense. Suddenly this was ridiculously exciting because, oh yeah that band that you sorta kinda listen to sometimes? Yeah, well they’re back. I listened to the song. I loved the song, but more than that I loved the passion of the fans, the waves of sheer, unadultered excitement that was radiating from them. It was what I was looking for.
I pressed play on Fall Out Boy’s Spotify and found that I could sing to so many songs, that I’d been loving a band that I didn’t even know the name of for years. It was like a trip through my memory, a trip through all of the songs I didn’t know the names of.
And that is how I became acquainted with you.
Fast-forward a few months and I’ve officially sold my soul, or whatever, to some strange entity that does nothing but make me abnormally happy whenever I press play on my iPod. And it’s now that I decide to Google what these strange men that make the music that has provided the soundtrack to my life for god knows how long, truly, are called, what they’re like. And, so, I learnt your name.
Joe Trohman, it so turned out, but then you’d know that, or at least I’d hope so.
Joe Trohman also turned out to a seriously cool guy, and that’s what I seriously hope you see. Because, dude, I wish you’d see how much joy you bring me sometimes. Because, really, you’ve shown me that, yeah, while you can be dumb and dick around, you can still be in a band that rocks and play music and generally live the life you wanna live. That’s what I aspire to be. I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but whatever.
What this is all about, really, is that you’re really great. Like, really, really great. (Why is this whole thing so hard, sorry? Like, I’m really scared of you reading this. I hope the compliments are flattering and not creepy.) There’s always a support network in someone’s life, right? And in mine, it’s the music that you’ve created and just generally being content in the fact that there are people in the world alive that are just generally good people. Like you. That’s so reassuring, to me, knowing that you’re on this Earth with me and knowing that you make music and you probably sometimes smile to yourself, sometimes, because, well, why not. And I’m happy; for you, for the smiles that sometimes pop as you play the riffs for the kids in the crowds or the fact that Fall Out Boy are getting the recognition they deserve again. And that makes no sense, sorry.
I wonder how weird it makes me sound, but knowing that one day I might run into you at the supermarket or on the street or I don’t know where, well. It’s a lifeline, again, a reminder that, hey, one day you might get to meet someone that’s had such an impact on your life, hold it together for one more day girl! Keep going!
So, Joe, I hope that in life you find nothing but joy and that you’ll always remember that you brought equal amounts of joy not only to me, but to countless others. And congratulations on the birth of your daughter, I know already that you’ll make a fantastic Dad.
So, in short, thank you, is all I’ve got to say, really; for sticking with this whole band thing, no matter how difficult it may have been, and even may continue to be, because, in the end, Fall Out Boy is all yours, as much so as it’s Andy’s or Pete’s or Patrick’s, as it always will be, and nothing for me will quite live up to seeing your hair bob on stage in time to the songs that have soundtracked a generation.
2087
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