A message from Steve Howe

Dear Fans,

Despite my best efforts otherwise, I have become ugly. Some of you may quibble with my choice of the word "become," but I hear no dissent on the adjective "ugly." For it is true, I repulse. Though no one will tell me directly, it is as clear as the face on my face. I feel I owe you an explanation.

Why has Lady Time left others ennobled and dignified in their accrued appearance while rendering me analogous to a moldering stump of lichen? Why have I been especially chosen as canvas for her full panoply of ravagements? It is not karma, for I have been as good, or bad, as many others. Neither is it hereditary, for I could easily afford to gaze upon my parents, even upon their deathbeds, though I may more closely resemble them in their current states.

Did it happen suddenly, I hear you ask, ominously attentive to your possible future as a craggily dissolute, loathesomely-visaged sexegenarian? (Who, I might add, is to this day still very popular in Japan, where they enjoy a thriving horror film industry as well as greater sympathy for the Hibakusha.) Or did it happen slowly, bruised and burnished like the icy, pock-marked surface of Ganymede? Perhaps it was the drugs, or lack of drugs, or the injurious ultrasonic vibrations of Jon Anderson's voice? Would death have not been preferable, my mirror asks me, daily?

I suppose by way of explanation, I have no explanation. In my defense, I do not force myself upon your eyes. You do not see Asia music videos on your television. I did not appear in "Rocky Horror Picture Show." All of my public appearances are witnessed voluntarily by paying fans. My website does not feature a photo section. You do not see me on the cover of People, Fangoria or The Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology. You will not see me on a package of Ipanema or Iams. It is not me on the Preparation-H instructions of use.

I would hope that my music would speak for me. I play a mean guitar. Close your eyes and that's what you need to know about me. The rest is gravy, or looks like it. If you poured it over kimchi, offal and barbershop dustpan. But enough about me.

regrets,
Steve "don't look now" Howe