A PSEUDO-LETTER TO LINKIN PARK
First and foremost
To Mike Shinoda: you took your pain and transformed it into art again, and there is nothing more praiseworthy for an artist than that. You expressed with words what we all felt but couldn’t manage to exteriorise. I am proud of you. Chester would be proud too.
To Brad Delson: one of the best guitarists I ever heard, no doubt. I thank you, for finding the right notes to accompany Linkin Park’s poetry and, vice versa, making them keep up with those soul changing symphonies. May your guitar be forever plugged in.
To Dave Farrell: the man responsible for that feeling of Infinity in our hearts during every song. I believe Chester is now like the sound of you bass: subtle but ever present. And I’m sure he feels the good vibes. Don’t stop believing.
To Joe Hahn: the one and only master of the turntables. The man who knows time better than anybody else. I am tempted to ask for a miracle, for you to take that LP and make it spin the other way around so we could go back to before the light went out. But instead I’ll ask you to find the strength to keep up what you were always doing – slowing time down for us, for those in whom your music lives.
To Rob Bourdon: last but not ever least. You kept the rhythm for all our beating hearts, a guidance to both your band and to us, your fans. I hope you’ll keep up the tempo, and when in doubt, just know that we would always be more than happy to follow your beat.
You don’t know me personally, but I grew up with you, I changed with you, I evolved with you. I want you to know that. Like countless more I saw hope in your words and heard comfort in your sound. You inspired us, the lost ones, to do better, to be better, in spite of everything, and for that, I thank you.
It took me 10 months, 8 days and 5 hours to be able to write this letter. 10 months, 8 days and 5 hours ago I shed a tear like so many others, because that light went out, and we all cared.
I apologise for taking so long to pay my respects and I hope someday we’ll have again the immense pleasure of having our souls satisfied through your sound.
Chester, may you rest in peace. Know that your spirit will live forever, and goodbye.
Love always, Antonio.