Tonight (like most nights) I strolled into my local dive, The Nest on Alberta. On this particular warm Friday night (unlike most nights) there was a band playing. Actually, there was a band not playing at the moment I walked in, they were on a break. But the evidence was abundant that indeed there was to be live entertainment at The Nest tonight. Specifically, a handwritten sign posted at the front door which read "$2 donation for band". I did not obey this sign. My first thought was "I'm a musician: I'm poor" followed by "Oh I guess they are too, how can I expect to earn a buck playing music if I won't pay to see it?" I decided that if I thought the band was good I would pay a couple bucks.
I promptly obtained a Pabst from the barkeep and made my way to the patio, where I typically run into people I barely know and talk about The Blazers or Music or something less important. At some point I noticed the band had resumed. I could hear the muffled sounds of train beat coming from inside. Once I had nursed my Ribbon dry I headed back in for another, and to check out the band. As I reentered I could barely make my way across the room. Suddenly the overfilled bike rack made sense (I actually had to wait for a parking space FOR MY BIKE when I arrived.) It was a Johnny Cash cover band playing "Folsom Prison Blues"
Of course that's the song they would be playing precisely the minute I walked in. And the place was packed with happy drunk girls, ranging from a soft-7 on down, dancing and singing along. Now here's the part that makes me suck: This drove me crazy. My first thought was I wonder how many of these people liked Johnny Cash before it was Cool To Like Johnny Cash (that is, before "Hurt" came out). I concluded none of them. Young people like Johnny Cash for the same reasons that people with no ties to Boston wear Red Sox hats.
I'm not a Johnny Cash fan. That's not to say that I don't like or respect his work, but I own none of his CDs and I never paid much attention to him. People I respect very much musically have named him as a key influence. I even recorded one of his songs for a tribute compilation that never came out. I recognize his greatness and his impact on the music world. But by virtue of the fact that I am not a fan I am totally unqualified to write the following paragraph.
Johnny would probably not be super stoked that a bunch of unintelligent bimbos were singing along to a handful of his more radio-friendly tunes while their Abercrombie and Affliction clad beaus were ordering another round of tequila shots and plotting the next epic Dave show at The Gorge. Or maybe he'd be thrilled by it, who knows. But my gut tells me no genius wants to see his life's work marginalized and distilled down to a handful of "Greatest Hits," played primarily for the purpose of hastening along the procreation of dumb people and thus the demise of our society (see Idiocracy- opening sequence). And the thing which I'm certain would drive Johnny crazy is that these are the very same people who didn't give a shit about him a few years ago. This is the sort of folk who, were Johnny a young up-and-comer today, would not invest even five seconds to ponder his music.
Yesterday I texted a girl, who I guess is a friend but probably won't be for much longer, that I had a few copies of the new Scotland Barr record. The only reason I did this is because I think she is a fan as she came to a lot of shows back in the day and has the other two albums. Plus I'm certain she would love it. Her response was, "I'll pass, but thank you anyway!" (I love the random use of exclamation points, by the way.) I was surprised by this, and fired back, "Wow really? You'd love it, it's a masterpiece. I thought you'd be excited..." Her devastating / enraging response was, "I don't purchase that much music anymore... Really trying to watch my spending, so unless it's close to free... Yah. Sucks being poor" This coming from a person who a) has a job with a Fortune 500 company, b) drives a new car, and c) probably spends between $15 and $50 every day on Starbucks / lunch / happy hour / $2 donations to Johnny Cash cover bands at dive bars.
And this is why our society sucks, or why our society is fine and I am the one who sucks. People say they are poor when clearly they aren't, and will piss through money on all sorts of things that will be consumed and forgotten in a matter of minutes. Yett somehow paying for a CD which cost thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars to produce is considered a frivolous luxury. Do we really want to live in a world of classic rock stations and repackaged greatest hits albums and crappy cover bands? Are we, as a society, done embracing new art?
So here I am. Up on my high horse, blogging and judging. Who am I? Just a drummer who can (kinda) sing and (attempts to) write songs. If I had approximately 30% fewer braincells and 100% more Tap Out shirts I could be bedding one of those gold digging fairweather Cash fans right now. But instead I'm laying on my couch alone, watching The Larry Sanders Show on Netflix. And publishing blogs which will make a handful of people chuckle and many more people (if they ever read it) say "Nick sucks, no wonder he doesn't have a girlfriend."
Friday, August 5, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Ryan Adams, 9/11, Pop Culture, and Pneumonia
I, like most people who have seen High Fidelity several times, enjoy making top 5 lists. But these lists are not static, they are subject to change. If I were to attempt a definitive, for the ages top 5 Nick's Favorite Albums of All Time list I don't know where to start. Certainly, I'd have to establish a criteria and assign points based various benchmarks. One such benchmark is Number of Times I've Purchased Said Album.
Like great books or great movies, great albums are often purchased many times. I will typically buy a few copies of something I think is wonderful and give them as gifts. Also, I often lend these albums out and never get them back. Hopefully it's because the person enjoyed it so much they want to keep it. But often, I fear, I lend these records to people I hope will enjoy it but in fact they never even play it and it gets lost (see previous entry). Ultimately, after some time has passed, I will have an overwhelming need to hear this album again. So a definitive top 5 list will have several factors, and one of which is certainly number of times purchased.
September 11, 2001, couldn't have happened at a better time in my life. I was 21, working at a camera store, living on my own for the first time, and attempting to play in a band. When I was in my most formative age, America became one for an all too brief period. Suddenly everything meant more, which is to say everything meant what it rightfully should have but up to and including September 10th everything meant less. Nobody stopped to ponder the importance of a sunny day, or hearing a great song for the first time, or The National Anthem, or the beer garden at Oktoberfest.
September 11, 2001, came at a great time for Ryan Adams too. The former Whiskeytown front man had the good fortune of filming a video for his most feel-good radio-ready single to date on September 7th, right in front of the Twin Towers. The song was called New York, New York. It received heavy rotation on MTV (yeah they used to play videos) and Ryan subsequently performed it that winter on Saturday Night Live. Back then, people watched MTV and SNL. I saw that episode of SNL and Ryan and his band really struck a chord with me. The next day, on my lunch break from the camera shop, I was doing what I did on every lunch break- thumbing through every album in the record store. I saw the Ryan Adams album, it was on sale and it came with a 4 track bonus disc. I bought it.
I loved this album so much I lent it to Brian Bergstrom, whom I'd been friends and bandmates with for about a year at that point. Brian didn't love it at first, but he put it in his CD player in his bedroom and played it every night as he fell asleep. This was a whole new sound for both of us. Alt-country. Music by guys only a few years older than us. They had grown up listening to punk rock, but they had also grown up in the South and were thus surrounded by pedal steel guitars and banjos. These were songwriters who had all the angst and anger of someone growing up in the 80s, but also had the musical chops to craft songs with more than just three distorted chords, smashing drums, and bad vocals. Suddenly a genre of music we didn't even know existed a few months prior was changing our lives. Suddenly it made perfect sense to call the girl I knew who played viola and see if she'd like to come jam with us. But this particular blog post is not about that album.
This is about Whiskeytown's masterpiece / obituary, Pneumonia. I just bought this album today for what has to be the 8th time. I was sitting in a Starbucks and Sit and Listen to the Rain came on. Funny how Starbucks is one of the last remaining bastions of good music. Anyhow, since I had lent out my last copy a few years ago, it'd been a long time since I'd heard this song. Suddenly I needed to once again own Pneumonia. Thank God record stores still exist, because this album is far too beautiful to listen to in mp3 form. It was recorded to tape, without computers and patches and autotune. This album sounds like Pet Sounds, but with better lyrics. Horns, mandolins, mallet instruments, lush harmonies, it's got everything and everything fits perfectly. It took U2 five attempts to make The Joshua Tree, but Whiskeytown had done it in three.
In a parallel universe, Whiskeytown hands the finished record to the label, the label believes in it and puts a bunch of promotion behind it, and Whiskeytown fulfill their destiny by becoming the Next Great Band. But in this universe, they finish the album and before it can be released the label folds. The big money is in boy bands, this is 1998 and there's no profit to be made from great songs with real meaning played by musicians. The album rots in a vault somewhere, the band breaks up, and Ryan launches a solo career. Eventually, in 2001, Ryan's new label will release it. But with the band no longer in existence there is no promotion. What few copies it does sell are to pre-existing Whiskeytown fans (of which there weren't enough to keep the whole machine in business in the first place) and to new Ryan fans like me with a suddenly insatiable appetite for more Ryan.
The redeeming value of this universe is that record stores do still exist and that as recently as 10 years ago, record labels still believed in good music enough to pay people to make it and then to press enough copies that the music will always be available. It's not on the rack at Walmart, but if you look you can find it. As recently as 10 years ago, corporations still believed in art enough to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to put enough copies of it out into the world so that someday, someone making a mix tape for Starbucks could find it.
The best part about great albums is that you listen to them a lot when you first get them. You listen so much that they become the soundtrack for that particular time in your life. You will, no doubt, move on to other albums. And likewise, you will move on to other stations in life. But great albums never disappear forever. And when they suddenly pop back into your head and then into your CD player, you are transported back to that place in time.
Today I am remembering the time when new doors were opened, when lifelong friendships were forged. I was 21, living on my own for the first time, and trying to play in a band. Brian and I, for the first time, had an artist we were both passionate about. Melissa and her viola came along. She and Brian got married. I auditioned for a group that sounded like Whiskeytown (sort of) and I got the gig.
Like great books or great movies, great albums are often purchased many times. I will typically buy a few copies of something I think is wonderful and give them as gifts. Also, I often lend these albums out and never get them back. Hopefully it's because the person enjoyed it so much they want to keep it. But often, I fear, I lend these records to people I hope will enjoy it but in fact they never even play it and it gets lost (see previous entry). Ultimately, after some time has passed, I will have an overwhelming need to hear this album again. So a definitive top 5 list will have several factors, and one of which is certainly number of times purchased.
September 11, 2001, couldn't have happened at a better time in my life. I was 21, working at a camera store, living on my own for the first time, and attempting to play in a band. When I was in my most formative age, America became one for an all too brief period. Suddenly everything meant more, which is to say everything meant what it rightfully should have but up to and including September 10th everything meant less. Nobody stopped to ponder the importance of a sunny day, or hearing a great song for the first time, or The National Anthem, or the beer garden at Oktoberfest.
September 11, 2001, came at a great time for Ryan Adams too. The former Whiskeytown front man had the good fortune of filming a video for his most feel-good radio-ready single to date on September 7th, right in front of the Twin Towers. The song was called New York, New York. It received heavy rotation on MTV (yeah they used to play videos) and Ryan subsequently performed it that winter on Saturday Night Live. Back then, people watched MTV and SNL. I saw that episode of SNL and Ryan and his band really struck a chord with me. The next day, on my lunch break from the camera shop, I was doing what I did on every lunch break- thumbing through every album in the record store. I saw the Ryan Adams album, it was on sale and it came with a 4 track bonus disc. I bought it.
I loved this album so much I lent it to Brian Bergstrom, whom I'd been friends and bandmates with for about a year at that point. Brian didn't love it at first, but he put it in his CD player in his bedroom and played it every night as he fell asleep. This was a whole new sound for both of us. Alt-country. Music by guys only a few years older than us. They had grown up listening to punk rock, but they had also grown up in the South and were thus surrounded by pedal steel guitars and banjos. These were songwriters who had all the angst and anger of someone growing up in the 80s, but also had the musical chops to craft songs with more than just three distorted chords, smashing drums, and bad vocals. Suddenly a genre of music we didn't even know existed a few months prior was changing our lives. Suddenly it made perfect sense to call the girl I knew who played viola and see if she'd like to come jam with us. But this particular blog post is not about that album.
This is about Whiskeytown's masterpiece / obituary, Pneumonia. I just bought this album today for what has to be the 8th time. I was sitting in a Starbucks and Sit and Listen to the Rain came on. Funny how Starbucks is one of the last remaining bastions of good music. Anyhow, since I had lent out my last copy a few years ago, it'd been a long time since I'd heard this song. Suddenly I needed to once again own Pneumonia. Thank God record stores still exist, because this album is far too beautiful to listen to in mp3 form. It was recorded to tape, without computers and patches and autotune. This album sounds like Pet Sounds, but with better lyrics. Horns, mandolins, mallet instruments, lush harmonies, it's got everything and everything fits perfectly. It took U2 five attempts to make The Joshua Tree, but Whiskeytown had done it in three.
In a parallel universe, Whiskeytown hands the finished record to the label, the label believes in it and puts a bunch of promotion behind it, and Whiskeytown fulfill their destiny by becoming the Next Great Band. But in this universe, they finish the album and before it can be released the label folds. The big money is in boy bands, this is 1998 and there's no profit to be made from great songs with real meaning played by musicians. The album rots in a vault somewhere, the band breaks up, and Ryan launches a solo career. Eventually, in 2001, Ryan's new label will release it. But with the band no longer in existence there is no promotion. What few copies it does sell are to pre-existing Whiskeytown fans (of which there weren't enough to keep the whole machine in business in the first place) and to new Ryan fans like me with a suddenly insatiable appetite for more Ryan.
The redeeming value of this universe is that record stores do still exist and that as recently as 10 years ago, record labels still believed in good music enough to pay people to make it and then to press enough copies that the music will always be available. It's not on the rack at Walmart, but if you look you can find it. As recently as 10 years ago, corporations still believed in art enough to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to put enough copies of it out into the world so that someday, someone making a mix tape for Starbucks could find it.
The best part about great albums is that you listen to them a lot when you first get them. You listen so much that they become the soundtrack for that particular time in your life. You will, no doubt, move on to other albums. And likewise, you will move on to other stations in life. But great albums never disappear forever. And when they suddenly pop back into your head and then into your CD player, you are transported back to that place in time.
Today I am remembering the time when new doors were opened, when lifelong friendships were forged. I was 21, living on my own for the first time, and trying to play in a band. Brian and I, for the first time, had an artist we were both passionate about. Melissa and her viola came along. She and Brian got married. I auditioned for a group that sounded like Whiskeytown (sort of) and I got the gig.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Getting Closer To The Elevator
I can't remember who made this statement, maybe Charles Barkley, but it goes something like "I'm just trying to get to the top so I can send the elevator back down." Sports is a lot like music in that if you are able to perform at the highest level, the benefits are great. You become rich. You become a celebrity. People you don't know read your blogs and follow you on twitter. Actually, this isn't exclusive to sports and music, I suppose no matter what you do, if you do it at a very high level there will be some degree of fame and fortune.
Do I want to be rich and famous? Of course I do. I'm not gonna lie. And by the way, I know plenty of musicians who have no desire to be famous, and even a few who don't want to be rich. But I've never been meager. As far as fame is concerned, to me it would be a validation that the things I have always felt important and worthwhile are recognized by a wide audience. When I was playing with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags I knew that Scot's songs were so well crafted that it would be a great injustice to the world collective if they did not at some point achieve a wide audience. I may not be able to write great songs myself, but I think I know one when I hear it. If I were moderately famous for some reason, I could tweet or blog about music I thought people should hear and then people would hear it. Plus, it would make talking to girls that much easier. 31 and still lousy at talking to girls...
Level of fame desired: Moderate. If I could one day hope to be as widely known as Bun E Carlos then my life will have been a smashing success. I don't really care if a bunch of 14 year old girls know who I am. But to have accomplished enough in the music world to be known and respected by people in that world, would be a great honor.
Level of riches desired: Low to Moderate. I've lived on nothing for the past couple years. It's not so bad really. But I do feel like if I had just a little bit of financial success, I could set up some nice things for me and anyone else interested in making great music. I've always had great ideas, and ideas take money. The more money I have, the more elevators I can install to send back down.
Anyhow this whole getting closer to the elevator idea is something I've really been focusing on for the past couple of years. If someone were to send The Elevator back down to me, well I'd have to be in The Lobby to catch it. That's kind of what we have going on in Portland right now. The point is to be dialed in to the music scene, to have friends working toward the same goal. I don't really know how many "friends" I have. Facebook would say that number is somewhere in the upper 200s. But I can count on one hand the number of those "friends" who came to any of my shows in the last year.
An old friend of mine made a great point. He said friendships are basically a business relationship; both parties stand to benefit in some way and as soon as one of them no longer benefits the friendship ends. In a related story, I never see or hear from him anymore. This only bothers me a couple times a year, like when I hear about a birthday party or camping trip and wonder why I wasn't invited. But then again, I probably wouldn't have gone anyhow because I really have so little in common with those people now we'd have almost nothing to talk about.
It used to drive me crazy that my friends would never come to my shows. But I realized they're not bad people, they're just not that in to music. How in the world I ended up with a bunch of friends who care so little about something that means so much to me is still a mystery, but it happened. The thing is, I still identified with that crowd much more than with the music crowd for way too long. I grew up in Salem with a pretty conservative, business-minded upbringing. I never considered myself an artist. When I was playing with the aforementioned Drags, I rarely would hang out after the show. I almost went out of my way to avoid getting sucked into the art-music-culture community. This baffles me. I was a fool. Anyhow, too late now but moving forward I know what to do. Gone are the days where I would quickly pack up after a gig and high tail it to some party with a bunch of people who don't care about music.
I've never been a populist, I've always been more of a niche guy. In social gatherings I'm often found off to the side with a small click who gets Simpsons and Spinal Tap references without citation. And if someone said Dane Cook was funny, I would know that I didn't need to talk to that person ever again. But it's different with music. I used to bang my head against the wall trying to explain to people why John Mayer sucks and Ryan Adams is brilliant. Why do I care what they think?
A guy I used to drink beer with, who is actually my Dad's age, once told me why people do drugs. "90% of the time," he said, "it's not fun. But you're trying to recreate that one magical time when it was awesome." So that's why I often catch myself taking up the cause of great music. Because once upon a time there was this girl who basically liked whatever was on the radio, but I could tell that she was smart so I told her about some obscure bands. I even made a few mix tapes. And as near as I could tell it worked. She really liked these new bands. Unless of course she was just paying lip service, which I doubt since she shot down every advance I ever made. But ever since then I've thought that exposing people to The Jayhawks was a worthwhile endeavor. Even if it fails 90% of the time, when it succeeds it's High Fidelity. But a 10% rate of success does not a smart life-plan make. Better to surround myself with people who already like The Jayhawks.
So, being in The Lobby. Getting closer to The Elevator.
I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of this thing we have happening right now in Portland. But it's a great feeling. I know people who are Making It. When I first started writing this blog a couple years ago, it was because I took a long hard look in the mirror. I couldn't pay my rent, I was about to turn 29, and I had hoped to achieve some sort of financial security by the time I was 30. I evaluated all my strengths and weaknesses and was honest with myself, for the first time ever, with what I thought I could actually do long term occupation wise. The only option that made sense was Musician. It seemed the likeliest of all scenarios. But that notion was a hard sell to pretty much everyone else in my life at the time. Now that I am surrounded by folks who are making a go of it, and some who have already succeeded, it validates my notion. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel less like if and more like when.
And the best part is, I don't even care when when is. I'll always find a way to make the rent and the car payment and to eat, drink, and be merry. So long as I'm on the path, I'm headed in the right direction. Even if I never get there, the trip will be fun.
Do I want to be rich and famous? Of course I do. I'm not gonna lie. And by the way, I know plenty of musicians who have no desire to be famous, and even a few who don't want to be rich. But I've never been meager. As far as fame is concerned, to me it would be a validation that the things I have always felt important and worthwhile are recognized by a wide audience. When I was playing with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags I knew that Scot's songs were so well crafted that it would be a great injustice to the world collective if they did not at some point achieve a wide audience. I may not be able to write great songs myself, but I think I know one when I hear it. If I were moderately famous for some reason, I could tweet or blog about music I thought people should hear and then people would hear it. Plus, it would make talking to girls that much easier. 31 and still lousy at talking to girls...
Level of fame desired: Moderate. If I could one day hope to be as widely known as Bun E Carlos then my life will have been a smashing success. I don't really care if a bunch of 14 year old girls know who I am. But to have accomplished enough in the music world to be known and respected by people in that world, would be a great honor.
Level of riches desired: Low to Moderate. I've lived on nothing for the past couple years. It's not so bad really. But I do feel like if I had just a little bit of financial success, I could set up some nice things for me and anyone else interested in making great music. I've always had great ideas, and ideas take money. The more money I have, the more elevators I can install to send back down.
Anyhow this whole getting closer to the elevator idea is something I've really been focusing on for the past couple of years. If someone were to send The Elevator back down to me, well I'd have to be in The Lobby to catch it. That's kind of what we have going on in Portland right now. The point is to be dialed in to the music scene, to have friends working toward the same goal. I don't really know how many "friends" I have. Facebook would say that number is somewhere in the upper 200s. But I can count on one hand the number of those "friends" who came to any of my shows in the last year.
An old friend of mine made a great point. He said friendships are basically a business relationship; both parties stand to benefit in some way and as soon as one of them no longer benefits the friendship ends. In a related story, I never see or hear from him anymore. This only bothers me a couple times a year, like when I hear about a birthday party or camping trip and wonder why I wasn't invited. But then again, I probably wouldn't have gone anyhow because I really have so little in common with those people now we'd have almost nothing to talk about.
It used to drive me crazy that my friends would never come to my shows. But I realized they're not bad people, they're just not that in to music. How in the world I ended up with a bunch of friends who care so little about something that means so much to me is still a mystery, but it happened. The thing is, I still identified with that crowd much more than with the music crowd for way too long. I grew up in Salem with a pretty conservative, business-minded upbringing. I never considered myself an artist. When I was playing with the aforementioned Drags, I rarely would hang out after the show. I almost went out of my way to avoid getting sucked into the art-music-culture community. This baffles me. I was a fool. Anyhow, too late now but moving forward I know what to do. Gone are the days where I would quickly pack up after a gig and high tail it to some party with a bunch of people who don't care about music.
I've never been a populist, I've always been more of a niche guy. In social gatherings I'm often found off to the side with a small click who gets Simpsons and Spinal Tap references without citation. And if someone said Dane Cook was funny, I would know that I didn't need to talk to that person ever again. But it's different with music. I used to bang my head against the wall trying to explain to people why John Mayer sucks and Ryan Adams is brilliant. Why do I care what they think?
A guy I used to drink beer with, who is actually my Dad's age, once told me why people do drugs. "90% of the time," he said, "it's not fun. But you're trying to recreate that one magical time when it was awesome." So that's why I often catch myself taking up the cause of great music. Because once upon a time there was this girl who basically liked whatever was on the radio, but I could tell that she was smart so I told her about some obscure bands. I even made a few mix tapes. And as near as I could tell it worked. She really liked these new bands. Unless of course she was just paying lip service, which I doubt since she shot down every advance I ever made. But ever since then I've thought that exposing people to The Jayhawks was a worthwhile endeavor. Even if it fails 90% of the time, when it succeeds it's High Fidelity. But a 10% rate of success does not a smart life-plan make. Better to surround myself with people who already like The Jayhawks.
So, being in The Lobby. Getting closer to The Elevator.
I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of this thing we have happening right now in Portland. But it's a great feeling. I know people who are Making It. When I first started writing this blog a couple years ago, it was because I took a long hard look in the mirror. I couldn't pay my rent, I was about to turn 29, and I had hoped to achieve some sort of financial security by the time I was 30. I evaluated all my strengths and weaknesses and was honest with myself, for the first time ever, with what I thought I could actually do long term occupation wise. The only option that made sense was Musician. It seemed the likeliest of all scenarios. But that notion was a hard sell to pretty much everyone else in my life at the time. Now that I am surrounded by folks who are making a go of it, and some who have already succeeded, it validates my notion. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel less like if and more like when.
And the best part is, I don't even care when when is. I'll always find a way to make the rent and the car payment and to eat, drink, and be merry. So long as I'm on the path, I'm headed in the right direction. Even if I never get there, the trip will be fun.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
It's Been WAY Too Long
Good Lord, I have neglected this blog. Mainly because A) I'm certain nobody ever reads it and B) I've been really busy. But I realized that my email signature has a link to this site, so I figured I'd best put something semi-current up in case someone ever winds up here.
So when I started the goal was to keep a running diary of my progress as I try to find a way to make a living by playing music. I suppose if someone didn't know me and were following this blog (again, highly unlikely) they could take my lack of updates two different ways: Either I am too busy touring with Duran Duran to update, or I gave up and am working at Pizza Hut. Well neither is correct, although I am working (mercifully) at Pizza Hut.
****TANGENT**** Pizza Hut sucks ass and no one should ever work there or eat their food.
The truth is I've been playing my ass off. Still haven't made a dime, but the important lesson is that's okay. I already am a successful musician, because I play music well and sometimes people even watch / listen and enjoy. The most notable development has been my singing ability. I took some lessons and worked real hard and I'm proud to say that I am now a very capable harmony singer. Also I've done a bit of writing. I've always had things to say, and through Trampoline! I've finally found a way to say them.
So for those keeping score at home, I can be found playing in 3 bands:
Bradley Wik & The Charlatans, which just recorded an album which will come out hopefully in a few months
Trampoline!, which just recorded a demo that, while not totally finished, can be found on the intertubes
and Melville, which is a brand new band and we are playing out first show tomorrow night.
I guess that's all for now. I'll try to stay more on top of this thing.
So when I started the goal was to keep a running diary of my progress as I try to find a way to make a living by playing music. I suppose if someone didn't know me and were following this blog (again, highly unlikely) they could take my lack of updates two different ways: Either I am too busy touring with Duran Duran to update, or I gave up and am working at Pizza Hut. Well neither is correct, although I am working (mercifully) at Pizza Hut.
****TANGENT**** Pizza Hut sucks ass and no one should ever work there or eat their food.
The truth is I've been playing my ass off. Still haven't made a dime, but the important lesson is that's okay. I already am a successful musician, because I play music well and sometimes people even watch / listen and enjoy. The most notable development has been my singing ability. I took some lessons and worked real hard and I'm proud to say that I am now a very capable harmony singer. Also I've done a bit of writing. I've always had things to say, and through Trampoline! I've finally found a way to say them.
So for those keeping score at home, I can be found playing in 3 bands:
Bradley Wik & The Charlatans, which just recorded an album which will come out hopefully in a few months
Trampoline!, which just recorded a demo that, while not totally finished, can be found on the intertubes
and Melville, which is a brand new band and we are playing out first show tomorrow night.
I guess that's all for now. I'll try to stay more on top of this thing.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Scotland's Memorial
Yesterday friends, family, and bandmates of Scotland Barr (AKA Scott Barr Moritz) gathered at Duff's Garage for a moving tribute. The afternoon began with Scott's wife Stacy tearfully remembering the man we all love. Then there was a slide show / video compiled by Slow Drags Bryan Daste and Andy Nelson. I had no idea the crazy hairstyles and outfits Scott had worn over the years. If there was a dry eye in the house at this point, the meal should have changed that. Wonderful salmon, wings, and tamales served with black beans and rice- all of which no doubt had more than a touch of Aardvark.
After people had settled in with their food, the main event began. Past and present Slow Drags took the stage, augmented by some of the most notable musicians from Portland, Seattle, and beyond. We played for well over an hour with all of the Slow Drags taking lead vocal duties on 1 tune each. Yes, even me, on "Washing Over Me".
Finally the service was closed with many friends sharing thoughts and memories of Scott. I had prepared a short statement, which since I didn't use notecards was slightly different at the service than it appears here but this version is probably better anyhow.
Scott and I had a lot of arguments. His main gripe with me was that I didn't take my playing serious enough. He said I was "a construction worker who played the drums" and it should have been the other way around. He was right. I always complained that I didn't have enough money and couldn't afford to keep touring more and more. He told me that it was simple, I needed to change my paradigm. I dug my heals in, citing logic and reason. How could I ever expect to survive? I didn't want to "suffer for the arts." I held on as long as I could, but in the end the band carried on without me. Scott used to ask me what I wanted to do. Did I really want to be a construction worker who played drums on the weekends? When you're riding around in a van with 5 other dudes not knowing where you're going to sleep or how you're going to make your car payment, that doesn't sound too bad. It was only when I was out of the band did I realize the truth. I HAVE to play music. Moreover, I have to play GREAT music.
Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags set the bar incredibly high. So I did change my paradigm.
Many of you are artists like Scott, so you already know what I'm talking about. There's the guy you work with who goes and plays an open mic every Tuesday. There's the guy who is always talking about his band, and how they have a big show coming up. Then there's the guy who used to work there but left one day. The guy who stopped working for the man all together and devoted all of his time to chasing a dream. That was Scott. The lesson I take, and we all should take, from Scott is this: Change your paradigm. What do you want to be? Not what your parents want or your girlfriend wants. Certainly not what your boss wants. What do you want? If you create, do it more. If you're blessed with NOT having the creative gift, but rather the ability to plug into the matrix and earn a good living, that's great. But make sure you support the arts. Next time your coworker has a show, get some people together and go see it.
Scott would never stand for mediocrity, and certainly not crap. One of the last conversations we had was lementing how many people listen to Kid Rock and think it's good music. Take a stand! Don't settle for garbage, expect more. There is great art out there waiting to be appreciated, you just have to dig a little deeper.
The whole service was video taped, so if some excerpts from it ever see the light of day I'll be sure and point you to them. Also, the band are very eager to finish the album but without the ability to play shows are a bit strapped financially. If you wish to make a donation to help complete Scott's masterpiece, visit www.scotlandbarr.com and follow the paypal link. And if you haven't done so already, download the four new tracks posted there for free and share them.
After people had settled in with their food, the main event began. Past and present Slow Drags took the stage, augmented by some of the most notable musicians from Portland, Seattle, and beyond. We played for well over an hour with all of the Slow Drags taking lead vocal duties on 1 tune each. Yes, even me, on "Washing Over Me".
Finally the service was closed with many friends sharing thoughts and memories of Scott. I had prepared a short statement, which since I didn't use notecards was slightly different at the service than it appears here but this version is probably better anyhow.
Scott and I had a lot of arguments. His main gripe with me was that I didn't take my playing serious enough. He said I was "a construction worker who played the drums" and it should have been the other way around. He was right. I always complained that I didn't have enough money and couldn't afford to keep touring more and more. He told me that it was simple, I needed to change my paradigm. I dug my heals in, citing logic and reason. How could I ever expect to survive? I didn't want to "suffer for the arts." I held on as long as I could, but in the end the band carried on without me. Scott used to ask me what I wanted to do. Did I really want to be a construction worker who played drums on the weekends? When you're riding around in a van with 5 other dudes not knowing where you're going to sleep or how you're going to make your car payment, that doesn't sound too bad. It was only when I was out of the band did I realize the truth. I HAVE to play music. Moreover, I have to play GREAT music.
Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags set the bar incredibly high. So I did change my paradigm.
Many of you are artists like Scott, so you already know what I'm talking about. There's the guy you work with who goes and plays an open mic every Tuesday. There's the guy who is always talking about his band, and how they have a big show coming up. Then there's the guy who used to work there but left one day. The guy who stopped working for the man all together and devoted all of his time to chasing a dream. That was Scott. The lesson I take, and we all should take, from Scott is this: Change your paradigm. What do you want to be? Not what your parents want or your girlfriend wants. Certainly not what your boss wants. What do you want? If you create, do it more. If you're blessed with NOT having the creative gift, but rather the ability to plug into the matrix and earn a good living, that's great. But make sure you support the arts. Next time your coworker has a show, get some people together and go see it.
Scott would never stand for mediocrity, and certainly not crap. One of the last conversations we had was lementing how many people listen to Kid Rock and think it's good music. Take a stand! Don't settle for garbage, expect more. There is great art out there waiting to be appreciated, you just have to dig a little deeper.
The whole service was video taped, so if some excerpts from it ever see the light of day I'll be sure and point you to them. Also, the band are very eager to finish the album but without the ability to play shows are a bit strapped financially. If you wish to make a donation to help complete Scott's masterpiece, visit www.scotlandbarr.com and follow the paypal link. And if you haven't done so already, download the four new tracks posted there for free and share them.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Took That Long Slow Walk Down Ocean Drive...
For two years I had the honor of drumming with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags. Last fall Scott was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He battled it hard and never gave up. He continued to write, record, and perform. Scott is the greatest songwriter I have ever known and rightfully should one day be known by many more than the lucky few who got to share the stage with him or see him play. Scott was constantly creating. In addition to music, he was an incredible chef. If you've ever been to Salvador Molly's or enjoyed some Secret Aardvark sauce then you know what I'm talking about.
Scott gave much more to the world than he ever asked for in return. The ultimate goal of any artist is to have their work be enjoyed by as many as possible. What I ask for from all of you now is this: enjoy and share. If you own a copy of either "Legionnaires' Disease" or "All The Great Aviators Agree" take it out and give it a listen. Go to www.scotlandbarr.com and you can stream them both, as well as 4 brand new tracks (his best work in my professional opinion.) Play them for a friend. Buy a few cds and send them to music lovers you know. If you or someone you know is a foodie, pick up a few bottles of Secret Aardvark. The now famous hot sauce is available all over Portland along side the Drunken Garlic Black Bean and the just released Drunken Jerk.
Personally I'd just like to express my deepest thanks to those of you who took the time to attend our shows over the years. Scott didn't write songs for twelve year olds, you had to listen intently many times to really get inside them but it was always worth it! I know we're all busy with our social lives and it's not always top priority on anyone's weekend agenda to watch a band play songs that aren't "Jessie's Girl" or "Lady GaGa". Anyhow to my many friends who did make that effort, thank you. Not once did it go unnoticed by myself and the rest of the band. God Bless Scott, you will not be forgotten.
Scott gave much more to the world than he ever asked for in return. The ultimate goal of any artist is to have their work be enjoyed by as many as possible. What I ask for from all of you now is this: enjoy and share. If you own a copy of either "Legionnaires' Disease" or "All The Great Aviators Agree" take it out and give it a listen. Go to www.scotlandbarr.com and you can stream them both, as well as 4 brand new tracks (his best work in my professional opinion.) Play them for a friend. Buy a few cds and send them to music lovers you know. If you or someone you know is a foodie, pick up a few bottles of Secret Aardvark. The now famous hot sauce is available all over Portland along side the Drunken Garlic Black Bean and the just released Drunken Jerk.
Personally I'd just like to express my deepest thanks to those of you who took the time to attend our shows over the years. Scott didn't write songs for twelve year olds, you had to listen intently many times to really get inside them but it was always worth it! I know we're all busy with our social lives and it's not always top priority on anyone's weekend agenda to watch a band play songs that aren't "Jessie's Girl" or "Lady GaGa". Anyhow to my many friends who did make that effort, thank you. Not once did it go unnoticed by myself and the rest of the band. God Bless Scott, you will not be forgotten.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Thoughts on The Shins, etc...
1st of all, it's been way too long since I've updated this thing. To my loyal reader(s), sorry.
Mickey, former bass player for Scotland Barr, and I just got together recently for quite a long chat. He told me about the Jesse Sandoval interview in the Portland Mercury. Jesse Sandoval, along with Marty Crandall, was recently fired from The Shins. Jesse has long been one of my favorite drummers and thus one of my main influences. You should go over to PortlandMercury.com and read it for yourself. I didn't find anything in that interview that I hadn't already deduced for myself.
As a drummer, I have been fired from many bands, and it seems to be the same everytime: It's always a surprise. Sure, looking back I could see the writing on the wall. But it's never easy when it happens. The way Jesse and Marty were dismissed is very typical. The singer / songwriter of the group (in this case, James Mercer) is the tormented genius. It's a stock character, the troubled introvert who writes and sings amazingly and creates incredible works of art. Then there's the goof-ball class clown drummer. Not shy, not introverted, couldn't write a great song to save his life but loves being in a band.
This was a great source of conflict in the Drags because Mickey and I were always up on stage grinning like idiots even if the show wasn't going well. Others in the band took this to mean that we simply didn't give a shit. I think I had some degree of success in explaining that the reason I tried to always appear to be having a great time on stage is that I feel it is crucial that the band project an image of fun while playing. After all, we want the audience to enjoy the show, and why would they if we aren't enjoying it ourselves. Just because I have this happy-go-lucky demeanor doesn't mean mistakes don't bother me.
This was Jesse and Marty in The Shins. Probably not the most talanted musicians in the band, but certainly fan favorites. They were probably also the ones who could make the other guys laugh, albeit at their own expense, when things got heated. There is a certain dynamic that a band has, when it is made up of friends who started playing together before any of them were really very good, or at least accomplished. There's much more to the sound of a band and the music that band creates , either on stage or in the studio, than the sum of it's parts. Unfortunately craigslist is changing that. Band members are nearly always auditioned and hired based on their ability to learn the parts quickly. It seems like the organic method where 5 friends start jamming in the basement is fading fast. Replacing it is the very business-like weighing the pros and cons of a pool of applicants and selecting the best one on paper before actually really getting to know the person.
Jeff Tweedy famously fired Jay Bennett from Wilco and then took the band on to far greater levels of commercial success. Jay says in the documentary something like "I think Jeff simply wanted his band back." In that movie Jay comes off as a real asshole, but let the record reflect that as soon as "A Ghost Is Born" was released I pointed out and my friend Brian Bergstrom agreed that infact Jay had a much bigger positive impact on the sound of Wilco's records than most people knew. Anyhow, since this famous incident I believe it's become almost a right of passage for singer / songwriters. Re-assert your control of the band. Make the bold move. Fire the person who maybe you clash with the most. It really has a galvanizing effect initially on the remaing members. I've been on both sides of this. Once the naerdowell is gone, he is scapegoated with all of the past problems. Any insecurities on the part of the other players will disappear with the circling the wagons. Only after many months and shows and recordings do you really start to realize exactly what you've lost.
I also feel that a bandmember who on the surfface appears to be the least talanted might just be the key to success. Maybe they can push the songwriter's buttons like no one else. Maybe it's that constant conflict that drives the songwriter and makes the finished product better. Once you jettison everyone who disagrees with you, you have free reign- not necessarily a good thing.
Concerning The Shins, I'm sure James was encouraged by yes-men and business types in his inner circle to make the bold move. Now he is free to bring in the most talented musicians without the constraints of keeping the band togther. He will likely go on to world superstardom while Jesse runs his taco cart and Marty does whatever he's going to do. But it will never be the same. The 4 kids from New Mexico, high school chums out to take over the world, are gone. It's now a corporate machine, where the bandmates are paid employees who know their place and can be hired and fired on a moment's notice.
Anyhow, I'll write more about what it's like to be a drummer in a band of musicians later. And in the meantime, check out the Bradley Wik & The Charlatans show at Berbati's on 8/23. We've been practicing real hard and can't wait to rock P-Town again.
Mickey, former bass player for Scotland Barr, and I just got together recently for quite a long chat. He told me about the Jesse Sandoval interview in the Portland Mercury. Jesse Sandoval, along with Marty Crandall, was recently fired from The Shins. Jesse has long been one of my favorite drummers and thus one of my main influences. You should go over to PortlandMercury.com and read it for yourself. I didn't find anything in that interview that I hadn't already deduced for myself.
As a drummer, I have been fired from many bands, and it seems to be the same everytime: It's always a surprise. Sure, looking back I could see the writing on the wall. But it's never easy when it happens. The way Jesse and Marty were dismissed is very typical. The singer / songwriter of the group (in this case, James Mercer) is the tormented genius. It's a stock character, the troubled introvert who writes and sings amazingly and creates incredible works of art. Then there's the goof-ball class clown drummer. Not shy, not introverted, couldn't write a great song to save his life but loves being in a band.
This was a great source of conflict in the Drags because Mickey and I were always up on stage grinning like idiots even if the show wasn't going well. Others in the band took this to mean that we simply didn't give a shit. I think I had some degree of success in explaining that the reason I tried to always appear to be having a great time on stage is that I feel it is crucial that the band project an image of fun while playing. After all, we want the audience to enjoy the show, and why would they if we aren't enjoying it ourselves. Just because I have this happy-go-lucky demeanor doesn't mean mistakes don't bother me.
This was Jesse and Marty in The Shins. Probably not the most talanted musicians in the band, but certainly fan favorites. They were probably also the ones who could make the other guys laugh, albeit at their own expense, when things got heated. There is a certain dynamic that a band has, when it is made up of friends who started playing together before any of them were really very good, or at least accomplished. There's much more to the sound of a band and the music that band creates , either on stage or in the studio, than the sum of it's parts. Unfortunately craigslist is changing that. Band members are nearly always auditioned and hired based on their ability to learn the parts quickly. It seems like the organic method where 5 friends start jamming in the basement is fading fast. Replacing it is the very business-like weighing the pros and cons of a pool of applicants and selecting the best one on paper before actually really getting to know the person.
Jeff Tweedy famously fired Jay Bennett from Wilco and then took the band on to far greater levels of commercial success. Jay says in the documentary something like "I think Jeff simply wanted his band back." In that movie Jay comes off as a real asshole, but let the record reflect that as soon as "A Ghost Is Born" was released I pointed out and my friend Brian Bergstrom agreed that infact Jay had a much bigger positive impact on the sound of Wilco's records than most people knew. Anyhow, since this famous incident I believe it's become almost a right of passage for singer / songwriters. Re-assert your control of the band. Make the bold move. Fire the person who maybe you clash with the most. It really has a galvanizing effect initially on the remaing members. I've been on both sides of this. Once the naerdowell is gone, he is scapegoated with all of the past problems. Any insecurities on the part of the other players will disappear with the circling the wagons. Only after many months and shows and recordings do you really start to realize exactly what you've lost.
I also feel that a bandmember who on the surfface appears to be the least talanted might just be the key to success. Maybe they can push the songwriter's buttons like no one else. Maybe it's that constant conflict that drives the songwriter and makes the finished product better. Once you jettison everyone who disagrees with you, you have free reign- not necessarily a good thing.
Concerning The Shins, I'm sure James was encouraged by yes-men and business types in his inner circle to make the bold move. Now he is free to bring in the most talented musicians without the constraints of keeping the band togther. He will likely go on to world superstardom while Jesse runs his taco cart and Marty does whatever he's going to do. But it will never be the same. The 4 kids from New Mexico, high school chums out to take over the world, are gone. It's now a corporate machine, where the bandmates are paid employees who know their place and can be hired and fired on a moment's notice.
Anyhow, I'll write more about what it's like to be a drummer in a band of musicians later. And in the meantime, check out the Bradley Wik & The Charlatans show at Berbati's on 8/23. We've been practicing real hard and can't wait to rock P-Town again.
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