The moment hits me in the middle of ACDC's "Thunderstruck." God -- I love this shit.
Sasha's fingers run ravenously down the neck of his guitar like acrobatic spiders. He's off on another rift. Another Sasha-twist on a beloved rock song, yet somehow, as always, he's found a way to improve upon the original.
It's nearing midnight. The end of another day on Warped Tour. Sasha, Dan and I are in the back of the bus playing for the stoners and casual-conversationers huddled in the parking lot outside our window. We rip through Aerosmith, then "Back in Black." At times, I stop just to watch Sasha at work. At peace. He and the instrument entwined like a tree and its roots. You can no longer tell where one starts and the other stops. Instead -- they depend on one another. Thrive and survive off this symbiotic symphony.
Sasha's eyes light up. He grits his teeth. Dips the guitar. And in the middle of "Thunderstruck," he unleashes a viscous wail with the whammy bar.
Then it hits me.
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