Tony Hicks’ Insert Foot. Rendering: Adam Pardee/STAFF.

I thought this was going to be my swan song, my big farewell column.

But then I discovered the editor was having a week nearly as bad as mine (about which you’re not about to hear anything. Anyway. I literally, redefined Murphy’s Law five or six times last week. I’ll either chronicle it in book form for purchase (because I’m an American) or I’ll forget entirely. I’m hoping for the latter, but as I’m discovering, I don’t always have total control over personal catastrophe.

So we got our miserable heads together (I’m not crying, you’re crying) and came up with something new.

The original premise was this: I’m not a music writer anymore, and it shows. It gets a bit more difficult each week to come up with music topics I know anything about. Or, even worse, care anything about.

If you’re as old as Keith Richards and I, you may know I once was a full-time music critic at a major Bay Area newspaper for a decade or so. I think I’m supposed to put “award-winning” in there somewhere, but being that some journalism awards are given for getting out of bed, I’ll defer (then again, getting out of bed isn’t what it used to be).

I started writing this thing a couple years ago because I missed writing columns, which I used to do as a full-time job (seriously?). And a few people convinced me to go back to observing and/or speculating/spouting off a bunch of stupidity in column form that someone, somewhere, thought was pseudo-amusing.

Most of those full-time columns eons ago were about my kids, and they were fun. Others were about pop culture, which was my beat at Bay Area News Group. It was my job, so I paid attention and had real opinions.

Since then, the newspaper scene has changed so much, they don’t even have them anymore.

But I still reached out to my old friends at RIFF, while I freelanced back in the news biz and figured it would be fun. It was. But it also felt like work. Because they made me write about music because, you know, it’s a music news publication.

I think I’m just done. Or at least, I thought I was.

 

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Very few music writers should do it professionally when they’re old enough to not care about it much anymore. And I don’t. I’d still like to play it. I’d still like to listen. But to take it on with any modem (is that still a word?) of professionalism?

Nope. And one of the people who wanted me do it isn’t even in my life anymore. She sure as heck doesn’t read me (and probably still won’t even when the restraining orders expire).

That was a joke … I hope.

So I wrote something about this being my last column. Coincidentally, my 19-year-old weirdo daughter then busted into my room, not knowing what I was writing about, but burning some weed and saying chanty things about “cleansing your space.” Not even kidding. So I thought maybe she’s right.

Goofy hippy.

So I wrote a few obligatory things about still reviewing a concert here and there and maybe chiming in for guest opinions. Besides, I wrote, I’m way more into movies and TV now (way less work) and would happily write about that because that’s all I do now. I’m basically married to Netflix and HBO, with an occasional side fling of Amazon, Disney and Apple. But this is a music publication, so maybe I should get out of the way (that seems to be a theme this week, but like I said: no personal doom).

I’ve had a hankering to write more of those columns about life in general, now that my beautiful little girl has turned into a 19-year-old weirdo hippy and my 13-year-old calls me to rant about the culture of rampant toxic masculinity in middle school. As I told the middle schooler—whom we’ll call Lucy, because that’s her name—eighth grade boys should be hosed down twice a day and be made to wear electronic dog collars.

I welcomed you all to find me on social media (Twitter, Instagram) and said goodbye.

Then that editor guy—whom we’ll call Roman, because that’s his name—showed why he’s an editor guy by making a real decision: Why don’t you start doing your column about all kinds of things because, really, you just use music as an excuse to write about your favorite topic: You.

Brilliant.

This is what we professionals call a re-brand. We’ll (me) cover all sorts of things, without a little thing like being a music publication getting in the way of our fun.

My daughters—who have noticed with obviously fake disapproval at my recent uptick of social media content about them—are going to be so happy.

Follow self-critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.