While that sucks for me as a writer, it’s pretty awesome for me as a person who prefers eating over not eating. I went from jobless and scrambling for work to… working three jobs and reminding myself that “jobless and scrambling for work” is always around the corner, so I’ve decided to enjoy the work while I have it. How’s that for lemonade, buddy?

Did you notice that? That’s called, “Puttin’ a shine on it” or maybe, “Looking at the silver lining.” Y’know, something unflappably positive. Don’t worry, I’m still not sure I trust it either.

Anyway, I don’t have some huge, epic and soul-scraping blahg to run by you, and I don’t want to just blab something out there for the what-what-what of it. Cool by you?
Good.
(That’s what I thought! *pretends to be held back by arms*)
I’ve had one prevailing thought occur to me lately, maybe more so due to this last month of feeling like I needed to touch base with something other than “Dress, Drive, Work, Drive, Sleep, Repeat” - which has literally been my daily existence since the 23rd of April, 2010. It’s May 24th as I write this.
That’s not a good existence. That’s not really living, in my opinion. It’s just… being alive. Not really what I think God had in mind with Psalm 16, particularly this part:

“…In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.”

It doesn’t say, “In Your presence is exhaustion, delirium and hanging around with people who are nowhere near as beautiful as your wife.” Just can’t imagine that this would be the destiny I was called to… which got me thinking:

How does one stay interested in living if there isn’t a reason, a justification, for all the shit one must go through… in order to keep on living?
It’s a dirty question but seriously… why? I mean, if it’s all work and eat and sleep and if there is nothing after this to look forward to (or to fear…) what is the point?
I touched on this thought process once on the Stavesacre song (from the Bull Takes Fighter E.P.) called “A Handful Of Words” and… no one has given me a legit answer. Here I am now, working like crazy to try to get through this crazy time in my life in one piece, with no real goal ahead and no time to formulate some semblance of a plan. I can’t help but wonder if, were I to believe there was nothing after all the work… wouldn’t I have to ask, “Why bother?”
Seems like a valid question.
Gimme one good reason this is all worth it that doesn’t lead to more questions…

*Note!*
The next few paragraphs were added after the blog initially posted because I realized… I write these things because I love to, but I’m still learning. One thing I’m learning is - surprise! - not everyone knows my thoughts, so in the future while writing I’ll try to keep that in mind! Good grief.
Ummmm…Oops?

Okay:

I have a reason for living, and that’s the whole point. I suppose not everyone knows that. (Wow… sometimes, I really suck at this! It would be more embarrassing if I weren’t laughing at what a dud this piece ended up being when not privy to the inner-workings of my mind.)
Well: I live because I know there is a life after this, and that God actually does have a plan for me. I believe this, and therefore I can face the challenges of each day (turns out, not many are “challenge-free.” Who knew?) That is why I don’t understand those who don’t have that feeling of purpose. It is, in fact, impossible for me to comprehend, actually.

Oh, and regarding work - I suspect there is a certain amount of God having some fun with me. I worried, worried and then worried some more, and the whole time I believe He was telling me to stop telling Him how to do what He does. “Oh, so you wanna doubt Me and question whether or not I’m gonna provide? Okay, suit yourself: Here’s more work than you can shake a stick at.
TADAAA!

Now will you relax and let Me handle this? Good. You just sit there until I call your name…”

Okay, I think I’ve covered what I missed… I sure hope I have. I would spend more time obsessing about this but… I gotta go to work!
By for now.

-m.

Briefly:
I have to say (after all that!) PRAISE GOD for answering my call. It’s been a month or two now and living by faith has me feeling all Elijah! (”Hey man, don’t shoot the birds!”)

Next bloggy I’m shooting for: “Script Fixer” - first up for fix? LOST, obviously. I haven’t even seen the last episode, which aired tonight, and I’m telling you… they didn’t pull it off. Something tells me the end of LOST involved ice cream sandwiches and a drum roll.

Great moving to the beat music that makes me feel like I’m in a modern-era Michael Mann film?
SPOON’s Transference

Last but not least… The other night while working the door at a small bar in Long Beach, I saw a guy drive by in a cream-colored Mercedes, sittin’ on 20’s and booming his stereo. Not that surprising… until I noticed the Papa John’s sign, attached to the roof. Weird or is it just me?

So… let’s talk about music.
In times like these, the right music gets me into “Listening Mode” - a good to place to be, because these days prayer requires a lot of it. Why not pause for a minute - all the busyness in the world isn’t gonna change much - and take a little time to listen to the sages of our past and (occasional) present. Maybe just… let them do what God gave them the gift to do:
Help us sort it out.

Simply put: It’s Mix Tape time, people.

I have some serious rearranging to do - and a lot of it requires waiting and patience and oddly… less thinking. Not “less thinking” as in “turn-off-your-brain-less thinking,” but more like “admit-you-can’t-just-figure-it-all-out-less thinking.”
I’m not sleeping well. I go to bed late and wake up early. My stomach often hurts.
Thanks to some good brothers and sisters, and the Great Companion we are blessed to know, I know what I have to do. But there is such a long way to go! What I’d like is a little wind at my back. A little lift.
A little hope.
If you’ve ever felt the same…
Check out this mix tape I made for us!
My theme: HOPE!
(No, not “Autobiographical”. So maybe I have linked it before. Sue me.)

I originally built a playlist and just hit shuffle - like the kind of whack surveys that come around once a year on facebook, circulate for a few weeks and then lose all appeal - and decided I was being lazy. I mean, next I’m dropping:
“17 R@nD0m Silly Ques†ion$!”
or:
“How do you know me?”
Face it - we go that direction and in no time we’re down to, “What’s your favorite color?”
So, I had to get it to a length that would fit on a cassette tape - no easy feat when you start with 30 songs!
I like a mix tape to be like a live show - Peaks. Valleys. Moods. Songs should fit together like they were written to go right where they go… grouped with intent. Of course everyone hears music their own way (you have seen American Idol, right? Yeah.) so… Here goes nothin’!

(In case you feel like getting all epic, you should be able to find all these jams at my blip.fm page, I’ll post them up in order at some point Friday, April 9th.)

Enjoy…

1. Down To The River To Pray - Alison Krauss, O’ Brother, Where Art Thou? Motion Picture Soundtrack
It’s called… getting your mind right.

2. Wake Up - Arcade Fire, Funeral
Unbelievable song, unbelievable trailer. (No time for movie critiques today…)

3. Caught By The River - Doves, The Last Broadcast
“Son… what have you done?”

4. Lost! - Coldplay, Viva La Vida
“I just got lost. Every river that I tried to cross, every door I ever tried was locked..”

5. Empire State of Mind (feat. Alicia Keys) - Jay-Z, The Blueprint 3
“That boy’s good!”

6. Ventura Highway - America, Homecoming
This downshift puts me back to where I started out, a kid sitting in the front seat of my old man’s pickup, headed to the beach. If you hit 101 North at just the right time:

“Ventura Highway… in the sunshine…”

7. The Only Living Boy In New York - Simon & Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water
“I’ve got nothing to do to-day… but smile.”

8. Daddy Sang Bass - Johnny Cash, Live At San Quentin
You can hear Johnny’s a little “under the weather” but… the man is basically leading a Gospel Choir in a prison for crying out loud.
“Oh the circle… won’t be broken.. bye & bye Lord, bye & bye!”

9. That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day) - Ray Charles, Ingredients in a Recipe for Soul
My attachment to this song is purely due to it’s placement in the film, Joe Vs. The Volcano. Ultimately it’s a movie about a guy who’s just… had it. Unfortunately, he’s such a loser that in order to finally do anything about it, he has to be given no other options.
Plus… Ray.
(And yes, I’m fairly certain I’ve used this before but if the shoe fits…)

“That lucky old Sun… got nothing to do… but roll around… Heaven all day…”

10. Break My Fall - Plankeye, Relocation
“I lack the strength it takes.”
One of the last songs that the great Gene Eugene left us, working with the fellas to bring out what I’ve always considered their best stuff. I know this song, because it was written by people like me… who are people like you. You can trust it.

11. Don’t Give Up - Peter Gabriel, So
“So many jobs… so many men… so many men no one needs…”
And no amount of worrying is gonna change that. God knows, we wait.

12. Recovering the Satellites (Live) - Counting Crows, Recovering the Satellites
During a particularly troubling time in my life, this song was on the player in the Stavesacre van so often that the guys had to ban it. Still reach back to it when I’d like a little lift. It’s not just the lyrics really, it’s as much about the feel - the song goes… up.

13. Come to Jesus - Mindy Smith, One Moment More
I have no idea what her intentions were when she wrote this, but I know what this song has done for me in times of trouble.
“Worry not, my son.”

14. In Exile - Thrice, Beggars

“I know I don’t belong here, I’ll never… call this place my home. I’m just passing through…”
I mean… what else is there?

Oh, yes. One of the greatest songs and performances of all time:
15. Bad - U2, Wide Awake In America (Live)
This is the finale because… it’s beautiful.
It takes me away from small things - the performance is great, but the interaction with the crowd just feels huge. I know my challenges are as many of yours: Individual. We just gotta deal with it because no cavalry is coming. But… aren’t we all in this together, too?
We pray for each other. We encourage each other. We ask around about each other. When I hear the people in this song singing together, it reminds me of that. And yes, it brings some comfort and a little wind at my back.
HOPE it does the same for you.

Okay, that’s it.
Your turn.

P.S.
As to last weeks Post-o-Rama:
Politics schmolitics.
Here’s mine in a nutshell:
I think the Left and the Right would all appreciate it if each of us would just choose a side so the carefully constructed arguments and criticisms can remain relevant and they can all get back to their golf games.
Ever get the distinct feeling that none of ‘em care?
Meh. Getting worn out on the whole mess.
I write what I write on the off chance that someone else out there might be going through some of the same trials and experiences as myself. When I get sidetracked on silly nonsense like political affiliations or “This Suit Said…” it’s a waste of all our time.
So…
Let’s talk about something else!
Like… your Mix Tape. What you got?

“Hypocrisy: prejudice with a halo”
- Ambrose Bierce
(American Writer, Journalist, Editor and gigantic Cynic, 1842-191?)

Dear, Ambrose,
What would you say today?
Sincerely,
m.

*ahem*

Here we are, awkwardly resting on the precipice of the yet another question mark for my time:
Health Care Reform.
And in true Modern American style, everybody’s pissed off about it.

Are the money hungry insurance companies finally being put in their place OR… are they jamming us up again?
And… which side of the debate should I align with?

I have a facebook home page full of comments from both hand-wringing “conservatives” and defiant “liberals,” and the 25- and 50-comment threads full of their passionate rants about whichever side of the debate they fall on. Plenty of comments ending in either a sardonic (and somehow, often misspelled???) “Comrade” or some inference of socialism - or in condescending comments equating a lack of support for Health Care Reform to warmongering or racism.

I can’t help but wonder if anyone else is noticing what I’m noticing:
In the Digital Age (unless you prefer “Age of Information,” whatever) it’s becoming increasingly clearer that we’re all getting a little… meaner.
Consider marriage. Race. Environmentalism. Sexual preference. Diet. Even… Smoking.
Having any strong opinion on these and similar topics can get people pretty riled up, but I think it’s worth noting how the conversation has become somehow more extreme. (And I don’t mean the Mountain-Dew-snow-boarder kind of extreme, but in the Mountains-Of-Afghanistan-waterboarding kind of extreme.)

So… have we as a people benefitted?

I mean, all these people seem to think they know what’s best for the American people - how’s that working out for us?
How does either side react when the other side questions or challenges them? Are we in a time where a healthy dialogue begins or… do people start building walls and tying lynch ropes in their minds, like in days of (not that) old?
Just a thought.
Probably nothing, right?

Take a look at this:

And this:

Now picture Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Alice Paul or Ronald Frickin’ Reagan - fresh off his unlikely renewed popularity - circulating either of them for their causes?

So… how’s our progress?

I’m afraid something weird has happened… and we all watched it in slow motion, like being just a little too late to stop your glass of water from falling off the table. Unfortunately it’s more abstract than a glass of water, so it’s a tough one to put my finger on. I can say one thing about it without a doubt:
I kinda don’t want to listen to any of it.
And it’s their faults if I miss something worth listening to.

I recently read an article (linked by my current favorite thinker David Dark - you should definitely be reading The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, btw. I don’t know him, but I blame his book for this blahg. Sorry, Mr. Dark - hope you’re not mad) on “gender-theorist-turned-philosopher-of-nonviolence” Judith Butler, in which all sorts of well spoken words and light-years-ahead-of-me brain power were on display. Without getting into much detail - read it for yourself - I found myself a little perplexed. I agreed with essentially all she had to say about “grievability” until the discussion laid out at the end of the article touched on a demographic that as far as I can tell, has been poorly represented on genocidal levels. Yet I can tell you… If I were to question this person’s standpoint in a public forum, I doubt I would find compassion from both sides of the argument, which I find odd because both sides claim to be so friggin’ great.

The whole thing makes me want to say:
Y’all get the Heisman:

(Haha. Chief fans.)

Liberal. Conservative. Progressive. Red States, Blue States, Purple States and so forth.
Meh.
I’d rather take residence in the Beige State… is there one?
Do I need a label to get through this crazy time? If, in order to be heard or respected or even to have one of these Eloi deign to a conversation, I have to be part of one of these so-called open minded factions… isn’t there a red flag in there somewhere?

I think both of ‘em just wanna be right - err - “correct.” I don’t think either the so-called “Conservative Right” or the so-called “Liberal Left” give a rat’s ass about me, especially since I don’t wear a badge from either team on my sleeve - but it looks like this is Prison Rules, and the independents get picked off first. If I ask a valid question, should expect a straight answer, or a rhetoric-charged reply that’s really a statement to someone else rather than an answer to me?
Why should I be taxed 3 times for every dollar I make?
Will I be able to drive on the roads if Ford Motor Company built them?
When does life begin?
Will the law protect me if I have less money than someone else?

I’m able to ask these questions in an honest search for truth.
Are you able to answer them in the same way?

If you find yourself firmly on one side or the other, I don’t think so. I really don’t.

Paint it any way you want, for people allegedly so concerned with justice… what they say and what they do aren’t adding up, because my voice doesn’t count unless I use their megaphone.
Wow. My heroes.
Again:

“Hypocrisy: prejudice with a halo”
- Ambrose Bierce

Hey all you Punk Rockers: What happened to questioning authority? Or… are only certain authorities questionable?

Little did the Descendents know just how right they’d be:

I want to be stereotyped,
I want to be classified.
I want to be masochistic,
I want to be a statistic.
I want to belong.
I want a Suburban home, Suburban home, Suburban Home, Suburban Home!

Descendents, Suburban Home

Here’s my official statement: Right Here.
Seriously. I can’t remember the last time I heard so many people explain so much, so differently, so loudly while actually communicating so little. (Kind of stole that from these geniuses.)
Beyond of course, which side they fall on - that part is usually pretty clear.
I have decided: I’m on my side.
Not because I don’t care - and definitely not because I’m afraid my opinion will be unpopular - but because I’m still trying to educate myself as to what just happened (which certainly makes me a little uncomfortable, seeing as it’s sort of already gone down) and I’m too damn tired to pretend to know it all.

Politics: A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.
Ambrose Bierce

Congratulations, Know-It-Alls: I care less the more I know.
Seems like the general consensus is that everyone is pissed off, no one got all they wanted and everyone seems to think Obama got ‘em good in some way. This tiny lil’ story is certainly not going to make many people too happy… but how could a cynic like myself possibly read anything these days without being distracted by the distinct feeling that whatever I was reading was total horseshit?!

What did good ol’ Brother Bierce say?

CYNIC, n.
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be. Hence the custom among the Scythians of plucking out a cynic’s eyes to improve his vision.

As always, feel free to comment here!

Okay!
So, I thought those of you brave souls who got suckered in by my FREE BEER headline from the last post helped pitch in might be wondering what’s going on with my friend Mike Lewis. (Add him - you’ll be glad you did. Especially if you contributed… there are photos and updates from the trip now! You can actually see your greenbacks at work. Nice, right?)

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about and would like to be a part of something awesome: Mike Lewis has taken a trip to Haiti in an effort to put actual feet on the ground and help, read about it here. Did I mention you could pitch in? (C’mon, it will be a lot more rewarding than your third viewing of AVATAR, and can even be for the same price!)

Well, thanks to Bill Power (because ol’ Grouchy Pants Lewis got my email address wrong the first time) that is now possible. I’m not sure that I shouldn’t have edited this, but I picture a guy trying to bang out an email in whatever brief exposure to internet access he can come by so… let’s just deal with it. We should probably give him a break, he’s not typing this from the comfort of wherever I’m writing or you’re reading so… we’ll be fine.
Brace yourselves - and thank you for taking the time to… care.

Hey everyone

I’m alive in Haiti, rained all night so everything is wet but that also meas it’s cooler and less dust. The people I’m camped with are Hard Core they came here 5 days after the earthquake. With little money an bags of supplies, they are not with any organization, and they are working next 12 countries who sent in workers some who are here with no pay. None of these people have training of any kind and two have been with out work in the US and they toil here pulling bodies from a fallen hotel where 200 wheny missing and 70 where Americans. These people don’t know where the next supplies are coming from and they do deal making everyweek to get rides into town, for supplies they funded by te random peope like me who come camp with them and bring funds and supplies thanks to all of you. They are not with any church or group they are people like you and I who heard the call and made there way to a country killed by earthquake. This a level of service I don’t understand and they inspire me to do more, work more, and learn to hear the call. Your funds you sent an supples you sent are going to several projects 1) water filters to make clean water for 14 camps of people each camp has 500 to 1000 people who are homeless and wait for UN support. 2) I have toys and all the supplies you sent with me going to and orphange run by Yogi nuns who operate the poorest orphange I have ever seen, these wemon do the Hard work they themselves are sick becuase the kids are sick, but they hold them and love them one 2 yr old I met was starving and they have been nursing her back from the edge of death becuase of malnutition she still can not walk or talk. But aide is not reaching small NGO like this one who reach so many people though as a christain I don’t share the Yogi belief system we walk common ground in the belief if saving peoples lives who have been taken by poverty. Everytime I go on a trip like this one I’m reminded that gods call is to serve people. So my probelms in life always get knocked down to perspective when watching people who have nothing fighting to hang on to the chance if a life, puts buisness, bills, ad our silky American probelms which don’t amoun to a thing when you see what Real need looks like.

So, now what?
Well, there is still plenty to be done - and knowing Lewis, probably a lot more than is immediately obvious. You can still donate to:

This Shirt Changes Lives

(And while you’re at it, why not join up? All the cool kids are doing it.)

Almost as important as you actually doing something to help, spreading the word would be most appreciated. How hard is it to just…
Pass it on?

And now, those of you well adjusted can call it encouragement (if that’s you, LUCKY) or you can see this next bit for what is more comfortable for some of us: The Ol’ Obligatory Guilt Paint Job On Our Tender Dear Hearts!

The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

Matthew 25:40

(hahah. Sorry. You can blame David Dark for that. I’ve been doing a lot healthy questioning lately, and unfortunately it has led to some very annoying self-examinination - although in truth, just how much of an inconvenience is writing a blahg? - but more on that later.)

As always… comments are more than welcome here!

(For the record… any colored text is a link… we all know this, yes?)

You probably did the text message thing for Haiti, right?
You might have even donated to Red Cross by way of the Big Red Button.
Maybe you donated during Hope for Haiti, potentially after watching John Legend’s beautiful rendition of Motherless Child.

But haven’t you wondered… where all the money goes?
Haven’t you ever wondered how it really works?

Here’s your chance - but time is short so… let’s do this.

My good friend, the Eternally Grouchy and Occasionally Hilarious Mike Lewis, is going to Haiti and he’s bringing your $$$ with him. He’s going to be bringing medicine and supplies to people who need it; he’s also bringing American currency to Haiti as apparently trade is coming back around on the streets but currency out there is a rare commodity.

He’s promised to blog about the trip as much as is possible from out there, but obviously there won’t be much chance of that happening in “American Facebook Time” - he will, however, be documenting the trip and posting it up once he gets back. He’s leaving in less than a week so cough up some of that coffee/beer/ciggie money and make this happen!

Seriously, come on. Don’t you wanna be a part of this?
As many of you know, I’m out of work currently and looking for a new gig. However, while I’m doing that I still get to drink clean water, take showers, sleep under a roof on a bed and eat food that is good, fresh and healthy. (Well, let’s be honest - not always exactly healthy…)
Now do me a favor - and you can be mad if you want, just… be mad later - ask yourself this question:

Can you really enjoy a $3 or $4 coffee knowing that you weren’t willing to the price of 5 days worth of that to people who are in real, measurable and undeniable need?

I can’t.

I believe God has a plan for my life and that I don’t really have anything unless He’s given it to me, so I’m donating some cash.
You can too, and we both know it.

This is what I need you to do, my dears:

1. Start a PayPal account if you don’t already have one.
2. Make sure there’s some dough in it.
3. Send as much of that dough as you can spare to Mike by signing in to your PayPal account, clicking the “Send Money” tab, filling in the “To” form with: mike@thisshirt.org and following the prompts.
So easy.

While you’re at it, you can sign up for the project he and my boy Bill Power are putting into practice, This Shirt Changes Lives, which takes part in situations just like the one in Haiti and gives actual support, care and money to those who need it. The price of membership starts you helping actual people in need immediately.

I’ll close (mostly) by saying this: Most people have love in their hearts for their fellow humans. A great deal of that love was on display immediately following the earthquake near Port-Au-Prince. But I believe, and I think you’ll agree once you thing about it for just a second, that the real challenge is keeping that love on display after emotions have run their course. Now is the most important time to support and…

Love.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:34,35

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

If you care to comment on this post… do it here!

Per Punk News:

Bad Religion now has plans to enter the studio on May 1 to record their fifteenth studio album. The album will be produced by Joe Barresi, who also produced 2007’s New Maps of Hell and engineered 2004’s The Empire Strikes First.

A fall 2010 release is expected. Prior to entering the studio, the band will be playing a few shows in California and Nevada.

Over.

Yes, I have turned 40.
I’m basically a Zombie, and not a cheeky/quirky Zombie created by a director as sardonic social commentary, just… half dead.
That title could actually state, “Half of My Life is Over… at best.” (according to these fascists.) So, honestly, like my buddy Chris White says,
“It really is all down hill from here.”

40.
Forrrrrrrty.
4-T.
Four-Tee.

As a young punk rocker, not even the adults that I liked were over 40, unless they were named, “Grampa” or “Gramma.”
Now, my best friend in high school is… a grampa. Wow.

Obviously, such a major milestone did not pass unnoticed.
Fifi put together a nice little evening for me the Sunday prior to the actual day (Jan 13th if you must know. Cash is always appropriate. k thx bai.) and I got some awesome gifts. Then my actual birthday came and things got a little iffy.
She had my 40th pretty well laid out; I had the day off and everything. We were gonna go see this little movie called Avatar on some plain ol’, everyday, run-of-the-mill theater called an IMAX. Have some dinner, relax. Very birthday-y kind of birthday.
We hit a slight snag when, upon waking, I checked my email.
Hey, it’s my B-Day, let’s see who says something funny.
The first subject that I saw in my inbox was the name of the restaurant I mentioned in an earlier blahg, titled Lot the Bar Manager. My heart immediately started pounding. My wife was downstairs, waiting for me to get up and enjoy the day she had planned for us. As I read on to find that I would be looking for a new job soon (The Neat Year Continues!), I could actually hear my heart beating.
Like, with my ears.
I am forty years old and jobless.
Seriously?
I can’t be having a panic attack. I don’t really know if I even believe in them.
Ugh.
Okay, regroup. Kinda saw this coming but… like this? Today? Not really.
I attempted to keep it to myself:
I’ll just tell her tomorrow. We can still enjoy today. I only turn 40 once, and she really wants it to be a good time… and so do I, dammit!
Hard to really express how that went down, honestly. She’s the nicest person I’ve ever known - you can’t just pretend to be in a good mood around her. So when I finally went down stairs to open her gift, I lasted about 9 seconds. She was all excited to show me a Vegas trip she’d purchased for us, and as she was explaining it to me I just sort of crumbled and spilled the beans.

For the rest of whatever life I have left to live, my 40th birthday will be remembered for my wife’s tears.

Happy Barfday!

Well, needless to say, the day was a little less light-hearted and fun than we’d anticipated. As a child, my mom told me that presents & parties & what-have-you are less likely the older you get. She told me birthdays would be “less important.” What was she actually trying to tell me? That as you get older, the likelihood that something horrible will happen on your actual birthday would increase? Thanks, ma.
Still, I was with my girl. Life could be worse, right?
God has a plan, His will ultimately is righteous, etc.
This whole pesky “faith” business can really get under your skin, but whatchu gonna do?
I had plans. But hey - no problema. Time for new plans.
No. Big. Deal.

Now, one might read those last bits and think to oneself, “Wow, this guy is really dealing well with having the rug pulled out from under him.” If that is the case, let me say,
“Thank you, to the Academy.”
(Get it? It’s because I’m acting. I’m putting on an act. I’m like Meryl Streep.)

Because I’m very much not fine.
I’m freakin’ pissed off and frustrated.
Maybe a little scared.

I was trying to build something and I took a pretty big leap to be a part of it.
I wanted to.
I knew God did not want me where I was, but… did He want me here for… this??? As I mentioned on my facebook, the lyrics to Keith Green’s “So You Wanna Go Back To Egypt” had been playing over and over in my head leading up to this final showdown and subsequent life overhaul. To be truthful: Egypt (aka My Life as a Nightclub Bar Manager) was looking pretty good.
Why did I do this again?

If I thought that I’d find some comfort in sharing my sad little story with some of my friends, I thought wrong. Because as wise men once said, “Things are tough all over.”
Sure, people are sympathetic. Sure, some of my friends were even upset at the way things went down.
But ultimately: No one wants to hear it, man.
I mean, you just read all that, so if you’re still with me, you clearly at least care a little. But would you choose to hear about this particular subject ever again? At some point… ya gotta move on. Everyone’s got problems - but unless you live in Haiti how can you really be cryin’ about… anything?

So, if it’s time to stop cryin’ and dust myself off… now what?
Maybe there’s an opportunity here.
I feel disappointed, somewhat discarded, definitely disrespected, but really: Can’t I take anything out of this experience? Does it have to go down as such a fatal and final black hole in my life’s history?
Hard to tell when I’m so close up, honestly. It’s too close, too personal, and has taken up essentially every aspect of my life since it started. Maybe I need a little perspective?

Based on 40 years of living, there is one thing I’ve actually learned and applied to my life:
Time Tells All.
Maybe this situation will be clearer in a few years.
Actually… probably.
Maybe it was time to ask myself how things really are, as opposed to how I’d hoped they’d be. Even better, maybe it was time to ask myself what aspects of this whole mess I could have avoided had I just paused long enough to really examine what I already know.
Here’s something I know:

Friends + $$$ x expectations = Disaster Formula 101.

Too much pressure involved when you don’t want to let your friends down. What might be a difference of philosophy with a total stranger becomes something far more personal, far more painful when a friend is involved.

This should have been obvious from the beginning but I don’t think I wanted to see it - also probably a factor in this situation and those similar.
Maybe with a little real contemplation - some weighing of potential outcomes - this might have been avoided.
Well, again - probably - is more like it.

Things don’t always work out the way you’d like them to.
Fact.
Also a fact:
Things usually work out better if you don’t just plow right ahead with them because it “feels right/seems right/the timing is right,” and so forth.

Wow.

That kind of felt good.
Like a workout that stretched long unused muscles. (What? I have some. I do.)
What else is there?
I’m not talking about looking back and saying, “Wow, wish I’d have known that.” I’m talking about looking back on questions debated - in some cases for months or even years - and finally coming to absolute answers.
I’m talking about widely accepted beliefs proven wrong or right after some real time has passed with which to test those beliefs.
I’m talking about myths being proven to be myths… or not.
Fears being quenched… or realized. Good decisions and bad ones.
Time.
Perspective.
I’m telling ya, once you start looking at life from that perspective… it gets a lot clearer.

What else have we learned?

Glad you asked!

Lets start easy, then work our way forward (See that?? A little lesson I learned after years of doing the opposite. See how good this works???)
Like this:

It’s stupid to stand around and wait for the next number to drop after you’ve left a roulette table.

No, Britney Spears really isn’t the next Madonna. (I called this one, btw.)

Telling your kid to “Go to school in case you need a backup plan,” is horrible advice.
Worst. Motivation. Ever. Try this instead, “Go to school so that you are comfortable in your own skin while you pursue what you really want to do - it’ll help you keep your passion sacred, and might even prevent you from making stupid, desperate decisions.” Then, let your kids find out there is no pot o’ gold at the end of the Pipe Dream on their own. Either way it’s brutal, but this way it’s more sudden, jarring and brief. Think of the adhesive bandage analogy you’ve told anyone contemplating how to approach an impending confrontation. You can’t “soften the blow” of disappointment when it’s on that level - but the dread of hearing your parents say, “I told you so” that plagues the back of your mind while you pursue your dreams effectively kills whatever minor joys there might be along the way and may ultimately ruin whatever opportunity comes their way so… knock that shit off.

The Rich get richer, the Poor can make a little money helping them enjoy it. How many instant-millionaire mortgage brokers do you know that are still livin’ it up?

The cast of True Romance contained Brad Pitt, Gary Oldman, James Gandolfini, Samuel Jackson and Christopher Freaking Walken - but Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette were the stars. A little time tells a lot, jus’ sayin’.

Sinead O’Connor might have been a little crazy, but when she tore that picture of the Pope to pieces, she was dead on.

The birth of Digital File Sharing really was the end of music as we knew and loved it. And by “as we knew it” I do mean, “We knew it as a living, growing, potential-ridden opportunity for people incapable of great athletic feats or born without silver spoons in their mouths… and now it is dead and available only to those who have very little need of it.” Nice job, thieves. You’ll never know the experience of gettin lost in an album of any kind… and it serves you right.

Verses in the Bible like Proverbs 23: 1-3 are there for your protection, not to make you uptight.

The number of MySpace (’member dat???) and/or facebook “friends” on your page really doesn’t count for much worth measuring for marketing, promotion and/or personal edification in any real, concrete capacity. Sure, there are moments, but as to longevity and consistency… c’mon.

Speaking of friends…
“Finding” friends on facebook begs the question: Why were they lost?

Miss any one right now? Why won’t you just… call ‘em?

Please feel free to add your own “Time Tells All” observations… here!

I’d say that this year is now officially closing out as… kinda lousy.
I’m typing right this moment with no soul - since the piece I was working on went bye-bye without the possibility of retrieval like, 2 minutes ago. Neato!

Okay. Time to step back, regroup, take a deep breath and… start over. I’ll be back. (Who am I talking to again????)
26 December, 2009 @ 9:10 by m.

Okay, back in the saddle and… I will not be defeated!
Let’s just say the sooner I get through this, the better off I’ll be. Maybe this will be the flapping of butterfly wings to send a Tsunami of Happiness throughout the world? Or… maybe the six of you who read this and myself can just (in purely platonic fashion) “pool our collective loathing” and feel a little better.

Ouch! Did you feel that?
Yeah - it was 2009, kicking all our tails up and down “Wall Street and Main Street!”
Some headlines:

Real Estate Bubble Officially Pops - Gets Some On Everybody

Basically, unless this guy shows up with 100 dudes in yellow jumpsuits and a bunch of flat screen TVs at every house in America (he can start with mine) we’re all kinda hosed. The Short Sell is somehow our best option… how neat of you, universe. Good thing I never installed the granite toilet seat!

The War is Ending… Someday. (Like all things: Life, Social Security, the Sun, etc.)

Single biggest let down of the Obama administration, for me. (We’ll get to all the hand-wringing and finger-pointing in a minute. Be still, Eager Beavers.)
I don’t get it. Now, of course the most I know about the war in Iraq is Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 and the beginning of Iron Man so… I probably shouldn’t be the group spokesperson (-Daniel Tosh-).
I don’t understand the latest surge.
Apparently I don’t understand what an Exit Strategy is, ’cause it doesn’t look like we’re exiting anything.
I don’t understand why no one tells us, really tells us, what’s going on. (Hey News People: YOU SUCK!)
I don’t understand how we can open up windows in the universe, but not the hills of Afghanistan.
I’m renaming the war in Iraq: The Family Trip to Magic Mountain.
“Mom, when are we gonna get there?”
“Five more minutes, son. Five more minutes.”

Michael Jackson Dies, World Mourns Man They Would Never Hire As Babysitter

Meanwhile Iran was having a revolution, fyi. There’s something really sad and “ironical” about the death of Michael Jackson, all the money tied up in the mass public mourning of such a revolutionary artist and… an unknown girl named Neda, being shot dead in the street to start an actual revolution. Covered this earlier in the year but… it’s a nice set up for:

Michael Jackson Dies, Black Eyed Peas and Adam Lambert Still Making “Music”

Yeah, that’s right. I think the Black Eyed Peas make awful music and Adam Lambert is ridiculous.
First of all, “tonight’s gonna be a good night” and “let’s get it started” are the latest rungs in the ladder heading on down to the Shittiness In Music Cellar. “All along the watchtower”? Nah - we don’t do that whole “depth” thing anymore, Gramps. The way we’re headed, the theme for 2010 will be, “Gub.”
And as for Adam Lambert… well, what did you expect, Universe? If music is only about image - it sure as H-E-double hockey sticks ain’t about music - what else could a television show that claims to be about music burp forth but this monstrosity?
Oh, wow. He’s so controversial. Let me remind you of that performance with KISS on AI, and Paul Stanley’s enormous gut. Just… let that float around in your head for a minute.
Okay! Now that we’re on the same page, please remind me why you’ll buy one single song from this guy?
p.s. He lost to the dude with the acoustic guitar. I don’t even think the sisters down in West Hollywood really like his music. To quote Buddy from the Kids In The Hall: “I still refuse to believe Liberace was gay. I just don’t want him to be.”
Androgyny is the new Bell Bottoms. ‘Nuff said.

Country Spends Money It Doesn’t Have - Blames “New Black Fella Who Moved In”

Sorry folks, but I gotta tell you I saw this coming.
“Be careful what you wish for - you just might get it.” - Mother Theresa
I liken the last election to riding a beach cruiser down a long steep hill during rush hour - you don’t realize how much trouble you’re in until it’s happening.
I mean, you didn’t think George Bush was really that stupid, did you? (Okay, I might have.) Maybe he played everyone with his Hee-Haw President Frat Boy thing - but I’m thinking all the while, he & his cronies were ringing up a tab they had no intention of paying then laughing like Snidely Whiplash when they settled on the target of their Billionaires’ Prank. (You do remember that all these so-called “bailouts” started… before Obama was in office, right?) “Buster” crashes the party in triumphant victory… just in time for the cops to show up. (Did John Hughes write this? Let’s hope so… because in the end, the The Team That Carved a Skull Into a Desk always wins. P.S. Rest in Peace, you great man. John Hughes 1950-2009)
Let me ask you something: Do you really - honestly before GOD and BABY JESUS - think that John McCain and Sarah Palin would have steered us down any other path than the one we’re currently on? Now, if you still say “No” to that question, lemme ask you this: If Sarah Palin were a Black chick from the South Side of Chicago, would you still think she was so “approachable” and “like you”?
Yeah. I didn’t think so.
Over simplified? Maybe, but I’ve never understood the judgement of a Pres five minutes after he moves into the White House. Just seems a little too much to believe - “Hey guys, I’m here! Lemme fix what’s been broken for four years! Got it! Now what? This is so easy!!!”
Now, we have “The First Black President” in office - a distinction I hear more frequently as the days go by - and everyone that didn’t vote for him has suddenly forgotten the last eight years, or even the last 20 for that matter - like the Good Ol’ Boys were in there just feeding the dog and picking up the mail or something. (Oh, and in case you go making the mistake that I have any specific political affiliation - as much as 3 of the 6 of you who read this would love to do - doesn’t the Whitewater scandal ring sour in a whole new way all of a sudden?)
C’mon people.
It seems that some people are just hoping the guy destroys the country in order to justify… what?
So they can say, “See, I told you so!”
No? Too much? Well, let me ask you this: What did you think about Bush’s critics? Bill Clinton’s?
Yeah. Got it.

You wanna blame somebody for the recession?
You can start with me.
I haven’t owned a damn thing, all my life.
Didn’t come from money.
Never “came into some money.”
Never had a rich uncle die or hit the lottery.
I’m just a guy from Fresno who tripped, fell and was grabbed by God just before falling into a bottomless abyss then placed gently on my feet in Southern California. I work for a living. (A lot. I work a lot for a living.)
I “bought” a house when the opportunity presented itself, because people said, “buy a house when the opportunity presents itself.” I watched all the shows on HGTV and dared to dream that I might have finally found my chance to build on something with the future in mind.
And now I’m paying for my insolence.
“Get back down there, Morlock!”
I got the interest-only loan, worked more to pay it, hoped that I could fold that into something more stable with the equity that I would be gaining by finally owning something… and then our place lost about 30% of it’s “Equity?” and the Doomsday Clock started ticking on our last year before the loan ADJUSTS. (Much like the question mark that is now synonymous with the word “equity,” the word “adjusts” should now be accompanied by the rhino from James and the Giant Peach, black smoke, and thunder. For now, all-caps and bold will have to do.)
So, there you have it. The Villain in this play has been identified. Gotta give Daniel Craig an actual villain to battle - this isn’t the Happening. Who can karate chop the economy? You’re welcome.

Okay… now that all the doom and gloom has been aired, let’s enjoy some levity!

Movies!
Loved Sherlock Holmes, District 9, Duplicity (how this movie went nowhere is beyond me… maybe should have had more Blue Cat People), Coraline (and pretty much anything that Neil Gaiman does), the Hangover (minus the… eww) and… Star Trek. Star Trek. Star Track, whatever. It was awesome and if you didn’t watch it because you’re too cool, please don’t ever go to the movies with me.
Still waiting to see The Road, Zombieland, Food, Inc., the Messenger, Avatar (seriously, that was me - the one person who hasn’t seen it), Fantastic Mr. Fox, Up (yes, seriously. I’ve been busy!) & “9,” and the Hurt Locker.
Have no interest in seeing Nine (The musical. May I ask… why? And what’s up with all the nines?), Precious (I lived in Fresno for all of the 70’s, lets just say I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie already and it bummed me out then, too) or The Blind Side (We’ve ALL seen this movie before. Maybe next they’ll make Webster into a movie.)
Didn’t care for Inglorious Basterds(sic), to be honest. There were moments (the bar in the cellar, all the stuff with the Tiny Nazi) but overall the movie just seemed a little too straight forward, and seeing as this was a Tarantino movie, that totally confused me. Where were all the back story bits and timeline juggles that I loved so much about Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs? Why didn’t someone just shoot the Tiny Nazi?
And Where the Wild Things Are… hmm. What to say? I wanted it to change my life. I grew up on the book and am a pretty legit Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers fan. Thought this might make for an interesting combination, plus… Gandolfini. C’mon. It just… didn’t completely jive for me. Seemed really, really quiet all the time. And I don’t care what anyone says, that Karen O soundtrack did nothing for me. Like I’ve said before: This got me a little spoiled.

Speaking of Music:

Well, we all know where my heart lands on this subject, so let’s really just cut to the chase: No new music at all came out in 2009. Sorry. Check back in 12 months.

Unless you consider this music:

Seriously, it was pretty bleak. Aside from a few distractions - Baroness‘ The Blue Record was a highlight, as was Regina Spektor’s Far. It’s nice to see groups pull off two albums “in a row” that are full of great songs with great hooks and real depth - and equally sad to see that literally no one in the “media” has made much of a fuss about either of them. For every Lady Gaga - who, I’ll be honest, I don’t despise (this was hilarious) but I also could live without - there are literally 1000’s of Fever Rays out there. (Okay, maybe be not - she’s pretty amazing - but you get my point) Great music that just doesn’t stand a chance in the current machine. But, there is a little hope, despite what the pic at the top of this Blahg says: This article by Dave Allen, (seriously, READ IT) shared by my friend Anthony DeBarros who is awesome, states most of my feelings pretty well. At first, I thought,
“He puts everything on the artists to change the way things are! How is that fair??”
But then… I thought about it for a minute. Hasn’t that kind of… always been the case?
Look, call it laziness, call it complacency, call it entitlement - call it whatever you want.
Call it: The Reality of How Things Are.
The days of gazillion dollar record deals and Tour Busses for Everyone! are OVER. Let it go. Funny though, I think those of us who never really tasted that life are the most resistant to let the dream go. But… there is no choice but to do so and then… make something NEW.
Be the Artist you claim to be - if you’re gonna claim to be that, be that.
These are the facts:
1) If artists don’t take this moment to seize control of what they do and make it work for them, they may have to wait for the next big shift, and that could be ages and it could be a shift back towards… someone that isn’t an artist controlling everything.
2) Anything that makes an artist stretch and risk and fear (at least a little) is, historically speaking, artistically healthy.
3) What we had before, only worked for a few souls… and we hated those bastards!!!!

So… try.
Do something different.
Fail.
Succeed.
Flounder.
Want it.
Anything but… standing pat, wishing you could go back.
Why long for someone else’s days and dreams… you never had?
Happy New Year.

Okay… now that we all need a nap, I’ll leave you with my vote for Song of the Year:

Hope the next one is a little brighter!
As always, you can follow me on Twitter here and you can leave comments here.

Fifteen years, schmifteen years!
In 2009, it is official: The Crucified has rocked the Land of the Wikings.
There were hair-windmills. There was sweat. There was stumbling. There was an odd odor in the dressing room. There was an unexpected encore that could only be met with a song not meant for encores. Whateve’s - that’s how we do it!
Seriously though: There was intensity and I think some of the people at the show actually had… fun. Imagine that.

“Apparuhnntly the best fing to do is”:
Break up, don’t play for a decade and a half, don’t practice, don’t sleep and don’t spend any time around your band-mates.
Go to Norway.
ROCK.
So easy.
Obvie.
Yes, we had a couple shows this year, one a bit more satisfying than the other, but this was essentially our first real gig under what I’d call “Normal Band Conditions” - panicked, stressful, slightly unorganized - in almost two decades. We had a blast - and those Scandinavians were all about it. Which is weird because, in case you didn’t know it: The Crucified is not cool. Let’s keep some perspective here.

And: There was Norway itself.
Cold? Yes. How Cold? Ever see this?:

If you answered yes, then you know what follows… and why this is awesome:

I’d like to express why I love going over there so much but in all honesty… I’ve already tried like, 28 times. If this weren’t digital, there’d be eraser guts all over the place and a hole in the paper. After all those tries, my conclusion: I’m making it too complex when it’s simple, really - musically, it’s a lot safer a place.
What do I mean? I mean no one there is gonna give you a hard time if you just wanna get down. Doesn’t really matter what music it is or who it’s supposed to impress - people over there just seem to enjoy the jams as opposed to what some snob “more enlightened person” might say they’re supposed to enjoy about the jams.
Hope that makes sense, I really do.
An important distinction to make: most of these folks are just into what they actually like or, more important, what they hope will happen next. There’s a lot less worrying about what is “cool” - big difference.
(Is there a more tired routine than being cool? Good gawd, what happened??? Did everyone stop aging at 9 and no one told me???)
Besides, like I said, The Crucified is not cool, lest anyone forget.
Anyway, it’s a lot easier to have fun. The contrast between that environment and the one currently prevailing here in the states is strong: for the most part, over there you have people focusing on passion and expectation, over here there’s a lot of focusing on one’s own reaction to what has already happened. Like I said, safer. More fun. Yeah, definitely.

An added bonus: being around such an atmosphere of free creativity just… gets on ya.
I had amazing conversations with amazing people about what amazes them. About what is… again, what is next. I mean, for some 15 years or so the Crucified has been all about the past for me but I have to say that this trip… something changed. I got to wondering about options and approaches and the ways that I might be able to just let go and do something without fear.
Wait. What?
Where did this come from?
There I was, with The UnCool Crucified - risen from the dead, roaming through the Norwegian night, and dare I say it… feeling creative.
(To David and Emil: 1000 thank yous. And to Ivar: You sweat a lot - but you’re welcome anytime. Please buy a proper stereo, soon.)

Now look, don’t translate this as some sort of declaration - the Crucified will do what it do when it do. We had a blast and I think it went a long way towards encouraging the four of us to consider… more. There were times when I thought, “This is pretty freakin’ cool.” But… no one’s making any plans.
We’re also not not making plans so, take that for what it’s worth.

Highlights…

…Bellew, Chaffin, Minier and our good friend Ken Sheahan trying to decompress in the room at the hostel whilst reading broad-sweeping indictments on the country of Poland, written by near-geniuses on the hostel bunk beds:

…Breakfast with some weird Mustard & Vinegar Fish Jelly whilst sitting next to an albino who elected not to utilize the community shower. Sorry, no photo or scratch n’ sniff. Trust me.

…Hanging backstage with the dudes I haven’t hung “backstage” with in ages, loosening up before the show whilst Ken (as The Crucified) and I did the Twitter thing.

…When Norwegian bikers called “The Holy Riders” say they all live in “The Cave”… they actually mean they live in a cave.

…And of course… the show itself.

Lowlights…

…Funny how the world can seem so small when, one day you’re chatting with a person 17 hours away, and the next you’re in a different country with no Sprint Cell service. (Yeah… that’s right. Hey Sprint! YOU SUCK!)

…US Airways really should look into seats for people who aren’t 4′ tall.

…Fuzzy lil’ ol’ ladies who try to lane jump you at 5:00am…

Oh! Almost forgot: If you find yourself traveling a lot, or even just a little, and you need a backpack, you really should check out Voltaic Systems‘ solar powered bags. That’s right, solar. Power. You know what works everywhere, despite the lack of an outlet or the right adaptor in some tiny little country?

THE SUN.

Look for this…

This bag is ridiculous! Holds my 17″ Powerbook and holds a charge in a little battery pack inside forever. (I’ve never drained mine completely - every time it’s in the sun, the cell charges) It comes with all the adaptors you’ll ever need… they even sent me one for my Palm Pré that didn’t exist when I first bought the bag. (The bag I use won’t charge a laptop, but it will charge my iPod and BlueTooth, which you’re not supposed to plug in anywhere in Europe, even with an adaptor… they have a bigger one that charges laptops, but I’d call it a “future purchase.”) Check it out… you won’t regret it.
(No… that wasn’t a paid commercial. I freakin’ love that thing.)

Okay, briefly:

Heavy Rotation:

Baroness is good for you.

And in the interest of keeping the Scando-ness of this post, formerly of Honey is Cool, Fever Ray:

Till next time, tak!

As always… you can leave comments here!

Then you should quit doing that job immediately and just trust that God knows stuff – because you will go from feeling like good ol’ Tom Hagen one day to… Lot.
With the doors latched.
And all the lights on.
Curled up in the fetal position in a pool of your own tears.
Your “Hottest Club in the O.C.!” will just be, “A bar job in Downtown Sodom, across from the airport.”
That was me: Lot the Bar Manager.
I would describe that life as “a progressive dismantling of one’s dignity.”
Turns out, people really do think they’re the Godfather - even when they just own a club in Irvine that can’t pay its bills. But that’s another story…
Back to how it happens. How one becomes Lot the Bar Manager.

You start off getting into the restaurant biz because it’s flexible job field allows you other pursuits while still being able to pay rent. (Like… Rock n’ Roll)
You wait some tables, you meet some people. You learn that Ranch dressing (or the lack thereof) can turn people into monsters.
You notice the bartenders make the most money in the shortest amount of time, which would allow you other pursuits (Like… more Rock n’ Roll) and possibly… “a better life.” You also notice that bartenders are rarely chewed out by grouchy people who should probably just eat salad instead of dipping their fried sausage burgers into herb-sprinkled mayonnaise. (Again with Ranch dressing?)
You finally get behind the bar and work as often as you can because you have these other pursuits and this “better life” but it all costs money. You laugh at the poor bastards who are still stuck kissing ass to the Ranch Eaters.
Life seems to be picking up for at least… five minutes.
You pick up another shift or two.
You buy a condo because you can finally afford to pay a mortgage instead of rent and, “Hey, the government will give you a tax break as a homeowner…”
Then… you have to pay the mortgage. Time to pick up more shifts.
You discover the reason bartenders make all that money is that for 4 straight hours they deal with people who wouldn’t last 4 straight minutes in any other scenario – people who will grab a total stranger (you) by the arm, while that total stranger is serving other more patient total strangers, and scream,
“HEY!!!!! HEY!!!!! RIGHT HERE, RIGHT HERE. I’LL TAKE A RED BULL AND VODKA!”

I had a slightly hilarious little video to play for you here, something to put you “in there” but… it’s too awful, so forget it. Let’s just say the formula for being “in there” is:
A New Haircut + Club Promoters + “JÄEGAH-BAHMS” x 500.
Welcome.

You realize these people, The Screaming Drunk Grabbers, are who you spend most of your time with because of the mortgage and that this is your job forever and that you kind of hate it.
You realize that you should be releasing some of the pressure by expressing your frustrations through those pursuits you love so much… and then some Screaming Drunk Grabber shoves his credit card in your face and you think the only way to properly express how I feel right now is to jam that credit card into that gaping, screaming, whining mouth…
Then you count the money at the end of the night and forget how much you hated making it (until you’re trying to make it again) because now you can pay the mortgage.
You count the money at the end of the night and forget to write about what you just went through.
You think, “I could work more,” because a mortgage is just a sick trick by some evil Man in a Darkened Room with a Cigar designed to make you lose your mind.
(The word “equity” should always be presented as a question: “Equity?”)
You realize that because mortgages and food NEVER STOP and you’ve now needed to work toward a little job security, maybe a little more control of your environment (enter “Management” status) that you haven’t pursued any of those pursuits in…
Ages.
You find yourself now fully devoted to doing something that it turns out you hate – and the things you love doing, the things you wanted to do more of so you did this, those things that should be outlets for you to let off steam about this stupid thing you now devote ALL OF YOUR TIME TO – are not really being done any more and you are now a PROSTITUTE.
Anyone remember the Bible school story about the frog in the pot?
Turns out, when the heat rises hot enough to cook the frog, the frog doesn’t die… it becomes a Bar Manager.
Turns out the pot isn’t full of water or even a nice au jus – it’s actually a stewing mix of cesspool-grade debauchery, depravity and douchebaggery.
Turns out the pot isn’t a pot at all, it’s Sodom and Gomorrah.
Hence: Lot the Bar Manager.

So, I quit.

I’ve traded in my Boston Shakers, bottle opener, Screaming Drunk Grabbers and 1:45am booze peddling for a remote control, DirecTV, football, pizzas, beer and little kids winning silly prizes.
I went from managing a Lounge to a Parlor – a pizza parlor.
And I feel… awesome.
I now work five days to make what I did in two or three but strangely… I don’t feel like I’m working as much. Maybe that’s because I don’t have to swim through the cesspool in order to make it.
And since I don’t feel like my soul has been extracted on a nightly basis by some rusty tool from one of those SAW movies, I actually want to do stuff.
I have the energy to pursue those pursuits I’ve pursued for so long.
Gonna play some Rock n’ Roll.
Gonna write out what’s in my head.
Gonna go out to a restaurant, order a double cheeseburger wrapped in chicken-fried steak , double-dip it in Ranch dressing then go home and watch the Godfather… and laugh myself to sleep.

See you soon.
m.

Ever get the feeling that things are just spinning out of control?
What is at this point an overused punchline in dumb Rom-Com’s (You know: The muppet on the screen blathers “He texted me so I myspaced him but he didn’t Twitter back!”; The muppets at the film studio all coo, “Oh, that’s so hilarious and current!”) is also my reality: I can’t- no, better- I don’t want to keep up with all this shit.
I’m sorry, it’s too much (typically useless) information from too many sources - with not enough time to process it all.
I’m considering just… shutting it all down.

Now, I know… this isn’t new territory. But at least I’m not Tweeting about Twitter so back off man.

Anyway-
We’re learning bad habits and we don’t allow enough time to recover from them.
Patience, already dangerously close to nonexistent, is now being tested to the limits because instead of an actual phone call (or heaven-forbid, a letter sent in the mail) we now just click and expect immediate results. If you’ve ever felt relieved that you’d spent “quality time” with someone because you sent them a text message, it may be too late.

Attention span?
What’d you just ask me?
Yeah, forget it. Everything demands attention rightthisminuterightnow. I mean, there are actual people who live life right now expecting immediate response to any and every message - and who get genuinely worried/upset/pissed off/insulted/etc. if there isn’t an immediate response.
Ironic twist - there’s no need to worry because, hey, some bright and shiny new toy will probably distract them from their anger and they’ll be off your back for at least long enough to text/email/tweet/IM you about their new toy… and yes, the cycle will begin again.
Hope we have enough toys to keep this up.

Sincerity? Do you even need to ask?
How much can someone actually mean something when they send it out to no one in particular? And if you call someone stupid or irrelevant or amazing or iconic but you don’t sign your actual name… how much can you really mean it?
You’ve heard the term, “Give him enough rope, he’ll hang himself,” right? Well, this rope is digital and endless. While all of the above issues are intertwined, I believe the overall lack of sincerity is the central cord in the noose.
I just don’t think it’s possible for everyone to mean it all.

Every instant message; every last minute text; every comment; every note on a Facebook “Wall”; every Tweet - how can all of this be sincere enough to actually matter?

Technologically, everything is so advanced - how can we resist? Every form of entertainment and time-passing is so much more real than what we’ve known. We put a lot of time and money into this stuff… and these advances do in fact bring the world closer. But for all the benefits that the digital our digital Work of Wonder has brought forward, I can’t help but think of a certain Tower… built so high. I’m not so sure we’re building this tower to reach heaven, we’re certainly trying to reach some form of ultimate autonomy.
We can talk to anyone at any time and from any where… and we don’t even need bricks and mortar.

There’s good and bad to all of these advances - that’s the pinch. I actually take advantage of many of the technological progressions of our era but… I spend a lot of time with people who wouldn’t be able to live without them. That’s… amazing.

Top 5 Most Awesome & Simultaneously Most Horrible Recent Inventions:

5. HDTV
It’s at 5 because I hate it the least - in fact it’s only on the list because I love it too much - and would shut it down last.
Shark Week in HD? Worth every second invested.
Raider game in HD? Worth every second invested as long as we win.
But… I Survived in HD? Can they not get one single person with good skin on this show??? If you’re gonna spend an hour listening to someone tell a horrific story about the human monster they survived, the least the director could do is secure a nice cleansing scrub. Maybe more air-conditioning in the studio. (Look: The stories are riveting, just… stop dragging it out. I know the world is terrifying - I don’t need to see the Frankenstein-stitch scars from the stab wounds in dude’s neck while he’s telling me what I already know… in HD.)
Unfortunately HD has now spoiled my eyeballs rotten - I see any sporting event on a regular TV and I’m instantly frustrated. But pretty much anything else - except Jon & Kate-like banalities - comes on the TV in HD and I’m hooked.
Next thing you know… it’s tomorrow. And there are crumbs everywhere.
I say it’s awesome because it’s awesome, and horrible because it’s awesome.

4. MySpace
“Why only #4, Mark?”
I’ll tell you why: Because it’s no longer a problem, really. I already did that addiction, that panic, that “hustle” - and I’m over it. Just like pretty much everyone I know. Millions upon millions of pages of bad HTML (Tell me I can “learn” HTML in 15 minutes by going to some website and you’ll just have to forgive me for not believing you.) and poorly uploaded videos means that opening most any MySpace page eventually became too much work. Now a days, it’s just a digital festival of unsigned bands - something I’d avoid in real life. Online… so much easier to just… not.
Horrible because it was once awesome.

3. Facebook
Coming in at 3rd place, just ahead of it’s former rival, Facebook has now surpassed MySpace in so many ways for me that I can’t even measure them. It’s quick, it’s simple and it actually does perform the function of keeping you in contact with people you’d actually like to stay in contact with. Also nice: No more “We have similar tastes in music, thought you might like this, too!”
Problem with FB - why it’s both horrible and awesome at the same time? - it’s too much a part of the day’s zeitgeist. (yeah, I know) People actually get mad at you for not using it… so you do and then… you kind of can’t help it. You’re in it. You’re wet. Get a laptop and FB page and an HD Deadliest Catch marathon we’re back to “How is it tomorrow?” and all the crumbs.
Plus… Mafia Wars. Texas Hold ‘Em. Hello.

2. Twitter
This was a tough one - mostly because I’m trying to determine if it’s 1 to 5 in awesomeness ore 1 to 5 in shittiness… or some kind of combo. Hang it. It is what it is.
Twitter is… so dumb. I use it, so I know. It’s idiotic on almost every level. Never before has so much information that no one wants been so available. “I just went to the bathroom.” I use the network because it’s easier to update the Facebook status from my phone… and also to follow some very important updates. Like this one from Jerry McDonald:
“They did it in public, so I can write about it. Russell flips to McFadden, who hands to Nick Miller on reverse to the left . . .”
You know… important stuff.
Look, you can say something to a lot of people quickly - you can
But yes, the absurdity of updating the Universe on every trite event of one’s life is not lost on me. I get it. But here’s where it gets weird: That’s not the dumbest aspect of Twitter - at all. And no, it’s not the lingo. Tweets vs. Twitter and all of that - c’mon, it’s not that hard. You want to know what it is? You want to know what it utterly unacceptable about this service?
Tweeting about Twitter.
Imagine this: Imagine my entire blahg were about… blahgging. Imagine an album of songs about singing. A work of fiction about… works of fiction.
Not exactly compelling.
This guy is a major offender - and it’s not just because he’s a Bronco Sympathizer, although I do hold that against him. It’s that he just can’t stop Tweeting about Tweeting and it really tweets me off! Unfortunately, to get the updates on the footballs I gots to wade through the dumb dumb stuffs.
And all those issues I mentioned earlier? Impatience, lack of attention and lack of sincerity? Yeah, this is kind of… where all those meet to become one in a big mashup of gross.

And now, for the grand finale, the apogee (or whatever…):
NUMBER 1.
Well, I gotta tell you: this kind of settles it. This list is a 1 to 5 of awfulness, 1 being the worst because this little invention is where all this crap started:

1. The Cellphone
AKA The Leash.
AKA The Excuse.
(As in, “What’s you’re excuse for talking during this movie I paid $12 to get into? Oh, you’re on your phone.”)
Once upon a time I resisted. I resisted as long as I could but it was futile. Now… I am a slave. I wear a leash that stretches… across the world.
The cellphone is great for more reasons than I have the patience to list here and horrible for twice as many - but mainly it’s horrible because there is no debate, there is no “Nah, I don’t get those things” or whatever acceptable reason still remains for people to not Facebook or subscribe to HD service or whatever.
Cell Phones are not optional.
I’m not even kidding: I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have one. Maybe FiFi’s grandma. Maybe.
These little curses have taken over the world and are to blame for pretty much every other thing there is that leads us to impatiently hurry, not pay enough attention, and communicate in shallow and insincere bursts. Be it hand to ear in traffic or stopping a conversation with the person in front of you mid-sentence while you answer your BlueTooth - we can’t get off the phone.

And let us not forget the “other” aspect of the mobile phone that makes it that much more of a nightmare: Texting.
Curses!!!.
The text message is responsible for a constant stream of interruption, willful or completely out of one’s control. Combine the fact that without any universal way to communicate all the tones in the human voice, by default the text message almost always leads… to more text messages. The abbreviations, the jargon, the sheer number of them… the surge in text messaging over the last few years has made even the most shallow emails seem like long forgotten windows to the soul.

And it all wraps up in that damn phone. Don’t deny it. It’s probably sitting right next to you right now, isn’t it? Did you just stare at it? What, ‘fraid it might know you’re talking beside it’s back?

I’ll be honest with you… I started this entire blog because I wanted to bitch about cellphones.

Now that I’ve done it, I’m surprisingly unsatisfied. Maybe because I know that it just doesn’t matter.
No one cares.
People love this crap.
We love the distractions… and I fear our dependence on them is at this point irreversible.
You think the terrorists are still aiming at our… planes?
Haha. LOLZ. LMAO.
All they have to do to send this country back to the Dark Ages is turn off the juice. Wanna keep yourself safe from Al Qaeda?: Go camping.

What would we do without all of these basic necessities bells and whistles?
Not sure.
Turn off the phone for a day and tell me what you think.

P.S. If you think that Universal Health Care is some sort of Commie Plot - SHUT UP.
If you haven’t watched SiCKO yet and you’re still talkin’ all that nonsense, I just want you to know that I know you’re a sucker.

Will Steve McNair be remembered as the warrior we used to watch on Sundays – even when he didn’t play for our own team – or as a man who shoulda been home with the wife? Not to speak ill of the dead, but I adore my lady and have a difficult time deciding how to mourn a man I didn’t know when I’m aware that he left behind a wife and children to deal with the fallout of some highly questionable choices. There’s the tragedy. But the NFL would have us all “move on” to another subject. Why? For the same reason Michael Vick will be suspended for four games upon his return: Can’t have anyone talking about anything related to the NFL unless it’s all roses and white bread. We can’t have Vick’s return over shadowing the (surely) triumphant return of Tom Brady or even the potential unretirement of Lord Favre.

It seems that when our so-called “heroes” have fallen, people just… lose it. Maybe… we need to pick new heroes? Might want to start with someone you actually know - add more as needed.

There is another tragedy brought on by all of these celebrity deaths that no one but a select few seem to be mourning: Right when the American Media Juggernaut was just beginning to pick up on the situation in Iran, a few iconic figures died, with their collective celebrity literally covering just about every demographic imaginable. The news went from some hard-fought-and-won attention about the violence and the all out revolution in Iran to an occasional ticker item at the bottom of the screen – wouldn’t want to distract from the poignant and integrity-filled wisdom of Joe Jackson, now would we? Who is going to “remember” Neda if they never hear of her? (Warning – that links to video that is certainly not for children, nor is it for the faint of heart.)
I guess it’s true – if the American Media doesn’t hear it, a tree falling in a forest really doesn’t make a sound. In case you’re not paying attention, China: this means you, too.

Okay, seriously… enough. Serio. Ernsthaft. Alvorlig!

I’m moving on because I have to but I want you to know that the triviality of what I’m about to cover hurts my earballs:
Music. Music is… boring.
Really, really boring right now and I’ll tell ya one reason why: The shows suck.
I wrote a blahg last year around this time titled, Festivitis. When I wrote it I honestly never anticipated going back to any festival again. Then… life happened.

Let me just say that unfortunately for the performer and the concertgoer in me, Cornerstone ‘09 was my reintroduction to Festivitis – and I had a pretty brutal outbreak. Apparently it’s like LSD – one can have a relapse of it years down the road. Maybe the harmful agents stay stored in your fat cells - that would explain why my latest relapse was so strong, I have plenty.
Like all viruses (at least, according to the science that I’m using for this next statement) Festivitis is always morphing, changing, adapting. It used to just cause extreme and traumatic sweatiness and discomfort - this latest strain hits the host with a severe case of apathy.

I hadn’t been in so many years and was really looking forward to it – more so than I’d anticipated. I was looking forward to familiar faces, familiar smells and even familiar drum circles. Then… I got to Cornerstone festival and a dirty mall broke out - who knew you could be so dirty after having not done anything at all worth noting? Had I not seen the pics on Facebook ten minutes after the fest, I might not remember that we’d ever played there later on.

The Stavesacre show was a great experience – even my harshest critic, Wifey, was impressed. (More on why I think the show was considered to be all that later.) Like Bellew said in the DVD that came out with the new E.P., “It sounds like we mean it.” Unfortunately, our show was only about an hour and a half of the festival – like an island of soul in a sea of, “Meh.”
The Crucified’s show was what it was – I’m not gonna lie, we were pretty tight and what have you, but it was a little awkward trying to really feel seventeen songs that were so much a part of my past the day after playing Stavesacre’s set full of music that I’m still passionate about right now as I write this. (I think August 14th with Demon Hunter & Living Sacrifice should be a little easier to focus on… plus, L.S. will be debuting material from their new album, “In Your Face, DEVIL!” - who wouldn’t be psyched for that???) Again – the show was a kind of an island in a big, boring sea of… what were we talking about again?
Oh, yeah. Anyway.
I’m also not saying that David Bazan’s show wasn’t great, because it was, or that the Living Sacrifice show wasn’t great, because it probably was (I was on a plane, but if I had to put money on it…) – I’m just saying that not much from the festival will stick with me, and that’s kinda sad.

Me and the Stavesacre boys used to dread C-Stone for all sorts of good reasons – the mud, the flies, the heat, the rain, the walking, the ruining of shoes, the constant repetition of the same conversation and exchange, etc.
Somehow… none of those reasons really applied to this year’s festival! And what’s worse than hippies?
When hippies are replaced with hipsters!
Believe it.

The weather was pleasant by C-Stone standards and the mud was minimal while we were there. I’ll be honest… I was kinda looking forward to getting smacked up by the heat or dodging the rain, just for old time’s sake. Plus: we were ready for it! Two hotel rooms and A/C cranked all day long while we’re at the festival. It was set up to be the best Cornerstone ever!
This year the old familiar heat, mud and humidity would have been a welcome relief, if you can believe that, anything familiar would have been welcome. It was such a strange experience – none of the comforting aspects, or even the annoying ones, were present. When held up to all the times I’ve played that place in the last 20 years, this one will be filed in my head as, “That One Time We Played Whenever That Was.”

First of all: Used to be that if you were lucky, when you got to Macomb you knew someone who had a hotel – or if your manager/booking agent cared at all about you & your sanity, they had a room or two booked for you in advance. But you had to have that handled months in advance, because if you rolled up on Thursday night of the festival there would quite literally be No Room Left At The Inn. (I’ve only slept on the grounds once – trust me, you’re motivated.) Once you got your hotel situation taken care of, it was all good. After the shows, there would literally be 20 or 30 bands - at least portions thereof – hanging out at the Days Inn. Even at the overflow “hotel” at the college, which was just like… Army barracks or something. There were bands on tour together, bands who had toured together in the past and hadn’t seen each other in months, or just… bands meeting other bands. It was a big community tailgate party, and it was fun. Bar-B-Q or pizza, there was plenty of food around and people hanging out talking stories and catching up.

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One (of particular interest given the New and Improved Modern Bellew):
One year at C-stone, Bellew and I were going to meet Dirk and some of his buddies at their hotel room. We were standing outside the door, which was quite crowded with all sorts of the vegan/vegetarian types typically associated with mid-to-late 90’s Hardcore types.
A girl comes out to invite both of us in to have some pizza. She proudly declares, “Yeah, come on in. We have plenty of pizza for everyone. It’s vegetarian.”
Bellew smiles and says, “No problem. Be in in just a minute - but, hold on, I gotta go snap a baby squirrel’s neck first - something has to bleed before I eat.”
Her jaw dropped open and nearly hit the ground. Bellew just stood there, smiling. The deafening silence in the room was matched only by the avalanche of laughter I was helpless to contain.
Now… Bellew’s a vegan. Go figure.

I was looking forward to seeing what the new crop of bands came up with to keep themselves entertained in the off time. I once saw the paint job on MxPx’s van permanently destroyed when someone doused the whole thing with flour in the middle of the night; Stavesacre placed at least half a can of sardines and a couple eggs in key places (the vent on top of the van!?!?!? Never did get my props on that one) on the old Roadside Monument van; I seem to remember a trailer full of Adult Diapers… the list really does go on.
If any of that happened this year… I missed it. Maybe they have a booth designated for hijinx now?
I know things move on – I like that they do. But in Not So Fine ‘09… something was missing. Sure, maybe some people aren’t coming due to the recession, but I’ll tell you what I think the overwhelming issue is – and it ain’t that complex:
It’s Overkill.

The hotel was my first indication that something was funky. You could get rooms during the fest. Not even close to sold out. There were open rooms all over the place. There was NO ONE hanging out at the hotel except the two bands I was in and some of the crew from the encore stage where Stavesacre played. Aside from that, you’d have never known there was a festival happening just 20 minutes of rural back roads away.
It was… depressing, honestly.
Even the little gas station next to the hotel – aka “Where To Get Beer” – was closed and empty. That gawd-awful “Hardees” at the turnoff looked like it was closed… but it wasn’t, it was just empty. What gives?

Gather ‘round chiddren!
Once upon a time the best thing about the festival was finally being able to see some bands! Now, the problem with the festival is… all the bands. My good buddy Steve Dail said that he counted eighteen “Generator Stages” (as in, “Dude, we’ll just get a generator and do our own show in the back of your truck/at our campground/on a piece of wood!”) on the way from Main Stage to the Encore Stages.
Eighteen.
I don’t care what festival you’re talking about or how many people are playing at each of these “stages,” it really does not matter: I guarantee there aren’t eighteen bands in any given year that you, me or anybody “just missed” and really need to hear. That’s of course, a statement made with the idea that only one band is playing on each of those stages – not a chance. With all those stages, somehow there are enough bands to play on them for all but about 3-5 hours of sleepy time. It’s all Too Much Information from moment one – so even if some band turns out to be good, chances are they’ll be lost in the great wave of Nameless Faceless Bands That Should Be At Home Practicing.
The ratio of festival attendees to bands staying at the festival trying to be “discovered” has got to be about 50/50. The fact that so many of these bands are attempting to be discovered by playing the same cover of As I Lay Dying’s, “This Is Who We Are” (Hint… AILD can pull it off, your band that’s been together for three months? Not so much. Call it tough love.) is somewhat ironic, but nowhere near as much of a bummer as the cacophony that ensues when it’s happening from all four points of the compass simultaneously. Were I actually trying to watch a band on one of these stages it would be quite simply… hopeless.
Hey guys, next time – because of course, your band will still be here next summer after a year’s worth of touring and demoing out your material, perfecting your craft… right? – think about why the actual stages are so far apart… and give it a try. If there isn’t enough room for all of this crap, let the best band win.

Even the age-old tool of hype that labels spent so much time perfecting all those years – “buzz” – has been replaced with a constant barrage of flyers and hand painted signs because… there ain’t any more record labels!
I can hear the conversation now… “Should we print some stickers and advance CD’s, try and get them to the target demographic? Nah… who listens to CD’s anymore? Let’s just put 5,000 flyers up inside the 120ºF hot boxes known as Port-o-Pottys and call it a day!” Cause you know, when you’re holding up your trousers with one hand to keep them from the Organic Dipping Sauce that is somehow on the floor of every one of those damn things (Maybe the solution to what ails Rock and Roll is a pair of glasses and better aim?) and your other hand to stabilize yourself while standing up to do whatever you came to do, that flyer for “I Am the Crimson Swashbuckler” or whomever just catches your eye, you know? And the first thing you think when you leave that Box of Disease is: “Oh yeah, they’re playing at the “Jimmy Cracked Corn” stage. I’m there.”

I mentioned before that the Wifey said Stavesacre played a pretty great show. I’ll be honest – I heard that a few times, from completely different people. It was nice, humbling, encouraging but… Stavesacre discussed this amongst ourselves and came to a very honest conclusion:
We’ve played better.
Not being a jerk, being totally serious – we’ve definitely played better.
So why was this show so good to the few others who saw it?
Maybe the comment from Sam, the guy doing monitors, was a clue: “It’s just nice to have a pro band on here every once in a while.”

Look: Stavesacre is old, everyone knows this. We had our window and it’s about as close to being shut and sealed forever as it could be, but Stavesacre isn’t really the issue here: It’s the music.
People, the music is boring.
Maybe we stood out because we sounded different or approached our sound differently?
I hope that was it. That would be worth knowing. That would be a nice legacy to leave behind.
Or is it too out of vogue to want to leave anything behind in the first place?
There ain’t much sacred about music right now – is a great painting more or less powerful if the artist is there to describe every detail as he’s painting it, every nod to every influence, every flaw? Is anything surprising any more?
Nothing is really special – anyone can do anything at any time. Has that equated to a better overall music scene?
What about the next year of music will be so revolutionary as to transform next summer’s into something better, rather than worse?

You want to hear my description of the festival I waited 7 years to return to?
It’s too much of a not that good thing. A title fight of nothing but undercard matches.
Better: Imagine a five or six day-long fireworks show consisting of nothing but Piccolo Pete’s.

It’s a sad thing because you know what: Cornerstone used to be the standard. When compared with the lousiness, the marketing overkill, the boredom of all other festivals, Cornerstone was special. Now… this year, it just kinda felt like a festival in Illinois.
Sound fun?

Because I can’t find this year’s version of it, which was phenomenal:

Quickly:

On heavy rotation:

Loving the new Regina Spektor album, Far
Check out, “Laughing With” and “Human of the Year” - amazing lyrics, melodies. All that annoying stuff no one likes about music.

I’m still not supposed to admit it, but I love So You Think You Can Dance? - maybe because there’s really no faking it on a show that would cost the average watcher his or her achilles tendon in either foot if they attempted most of the moves at home. Plus… Wade Robson is a freak. And occasionally, the play some pretty decent music, too.

Also: I’m sure this has nothing to do with it, but I can’t stop listening to this song right now:

Hope you got through this all, as usual… for comments, please click here!

¡Orale!

14 years after playing our last show, the Crucified has risen from the dead. (Kind of)
The setting: Calvary Chapel Golden Springs - church home to Raul Ries, the first and only guest vocalist on any Crucified album - in Diamond Bar, CA
The occasion: Musical accompaniment to the testimony of Sonny “Whosoever” formerly of P.O.D. (also formerly of dreadlocks that had to weigh like, 13 pounds)

We arrived at the usual rock club hour of *ahem*… 3:30-ish in the afternoon. In other words - 3 hours after my morning coffee. It was so early for me that after we played our set - which was separated into two parts by Sonny’s testimony and a brief altar call - I ate my lunch.
The sun was out, shining and actually… kind of a nice touch. That church is on a big ol’ hill in Diamond Bar, and actually boasts what might be the only nice view in Diamond Bar. (Unless dirt and weeds are your thing - in which case you could move to my home town of Madera, CA for a lot less Green $tuff) We arrived at different times but that was probably the only thing about the day that seemed unconnected.
It was a big day for me - but not because The Crucified is back together.
We’re not really back together, anyway - people can start talking about that when and (a big) if we start writing music again. Till then - it’s a lot of fun, but we’re mostly looking forward to putting out some of the music we always felt got the shaft in a way that all four of us can look back on without minor vurp sensations.
No, the day was special because… I got a little faith back.
(Just a little, bleeding hearts - don’t get all weird on me.)
Seriously, I wasn’t sure what to think about this trip straight into the Space Monkey’s gaping maw, rocking my Red Shirt and eager to show my sand. I had reservations - after all, it was at a Calvary Chapel, where I have had… let’s just say, history. Were they gonna corner my band and start praying over us or speaking nonsense that they’ll later tell us was tongues? Will some guy ask me how my “Walk” was? Will they stage a book burning upon my arrival? Will they say something crazy to a friend who’s never been to church before - or potentially worse - a friend who hasn’t been in years?
I wasn’t sure, and it started off a little shaky.
I came out of the “green room” - standard, pee-wee Sunday school classroom, little toilet and everything! It was hilarious but clean - and some guy came up to me, with that look…

Calvary Guy: “Hey brother. Listen, umm… we can’t have, uh, y’know… smoking on the grounds.”
Me: “Uhh… okay? Who… what? Where?”
Couldn’t think of who was smokin’ out there - this ain’t a Stavesacre show! (teehee)
Calvary Guy: “Oh, hey! No problem man… just… I didn’t want to offend you, you know? Some kids here are recovering from smoking and I’d hate to have this be any more difficult for them…”
Me: “Oh! Yeah. I gotcha. Well, let’s see.”

Outside, one of my old friend Klank’s circus buddies, named Sinbad, was havin’ a square. (Yes, I said: CIRCUS)
Slightly awkward conversation followed, Sinbad stamped his smoke and it was all good. Only slightly awkward. Seriously. Sinbad didn’t even get offended, he just said, “No problem.” I’ve had those conversations before - they can get uncomfortable. However, in a refreshing change, it didn’t mark the beginning of some downward spiral like these things have in the past, and I really appreciated it.
Dare I say that the entire event was… *American Cultural Christian-speak Alert* a blessing.
There were so many old friends and old faces that I literally could not keep up. (I tried to introduce my wife to everyone that came up and said hello, which was idiotic on two fronts - 1) She’ll never remember them all; 2) I didn’t remember a lot of the names myself. “Hey… brother. This is my wife…”)
That’s always tricky - There’s the faces you know and recognize but it might take a second for your gears to click - but you actually do know each other so it’s not big deal. Unfortunately, standing next to that person is usually a guy will roll up and start talking stories, reminiscing about people you never actually knew and giving one-armed hugs and knowing grins but who gets all butt-hurt that you can’t remember. My apologies to all who feel the fell under the latter category - my brain only holds so much.

“‘Member that? Those were crazy days, man!”
“No.”
“Aww, man… yeah. Crazy.”

Anyhow, the truth is… most of the people I saw were sights for sore eyes - so much so that it was at moments overwhelming. Lots of the old Garden Grove/Church-of-the-New Order to South Bay/Sanctuary-era-of-the-Crucified worlds colliding. Lots of faces I remembered from shows that happened over 15 years ago, now with little ones in tow. Dirk is old news, but seeing him along with his old Focused buddies Tim Mann, Jason Parker and Mike Merryman - plus multiple members of the various Ed’s-era hardcore bands (ask Bellew if you can’t figure it out yourself) made me a little dizzy. And while the show was great, I think the reunions were special. And… hanging out in a church all day with people who actually mean you no harm wasn’t bad either.
Then…
The C.H.U.D.s came out. (it will never get old)

I came home and checked out my facebook page to see if any pics or videos from the show had been posted, only to see legitimately worried posts from friends with families and loved ones in Iran, where riots were erupting all over due to the rigged “re-election” of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. I asked Wifey to turn on the news, hoping that the shining beacon of American Media would save me from an ignorance-fueled near future, but couldn’t find anything.
I mean, of course not. There was something far more pressing:
Bwave Sawah Pawin got her widdle feewings huwt and she wanted mean ‘ol (genius) Dawid Wettewman to apowogize for being such a big, mean nanny-boo-boo.
That was it.
Iran?
Nowhere to be found.

And the narcissistic Americans all screamed:

Who cares about those loonies, anyway???

A brave woman’s, *ahem* unscathed family name has been tarnished! STOP THE PRESSES!
So let’s get this straight: The most powerful country in the world (…right?) with the single most powerful media in the history of mankind is being held hostage by a failed Vice Presidential candidate who is up in arms about a (misappropriated) joke from a late night comedian while the very same genocidal dictator she was so concerned about when there were still votes to be won, has taken by force an election from an entire country who is desperately trying to exercise the democracy we’re attempting to establish by means of the war she supported in the country right next door - and she wants to talk about getting her feelings hurt from a joke?
In the middle of a massive recession, there is a movement to Fire David Letterman - who still has a job entertaining us by keeping her name in the press - for a joke?
Sticks and stones are literally breaking bones and she wants us to care about a joke?
And… we do???
Do I have that right?

During the election, when votes were needed stat, Sarah Palin:

Ahmadinejad may choose his words carefully, but underneath all of the rhetoric is an agenda that threatens all who seek a safer and freer world. We gather here today to highlight the Iranian dictator’s intentions and to call for action to thwart him.
He must be stopped….

The world must awake to the threat this man poses to all of us. Iran is responsible for attacks not only on Israelis, but on Jews living as far away as Argentina. Anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial are part of Iran’s official ideology and murder is part of its official policy. Not even Iranian citizens are safe from their government’s threat to those who want to live, work, and worship in peace. Politically-motivated abductions, torture, death by stoning, flogging, and amputations are just some of its state-sanctioned punishments.

And worth noting:

It is said that the measure of a country is the treatment of its most vulnerable citizens. By that standard, the Iranian government is both oppressive and barbaric. Under Ahmadinejad’s rule, Iranian women are some of the most vulnerable citizens.
If an Iranian woman shows too much hair in public, she risks being beaten or killed.
If she walks down a public street in clothing that violates the state dress code, she could be arrested.
But in the face of this harsh regime, the Iranian women have shown courage. Despite threats to their lives and their families, Iranian women have sought better treatment through the “One Million Signatures Campaign Demanding Changes to Discriminatory Laws.” The authorities have reacted with predictable barbarism. Last year, women’s rights activist Delaram Ali was sentenced to 20 lashes and 10 months in prison for committing the crime of “propaganda against the system.” After international protests, the judiciary reduced her sentence to “only” 10 lashes and 36 months in prison and then temporarily suspended her sentence. She still faces the threat of imprisonment.

So we’re all clear: Iran is attempting to rid themselves, by way of democratic vote, of the monster named Ahmadinejad - the main contributor to the threat we all heard about when votes could be won by warning people of threats. That very same Ahmadinejad, whom Sarah Palin said herself was one of our biggest enemies, rigs the election and sends his police out into the streets to kill anyone who opposes him. Meanwhile, Sarah Palin - so aware of Ahmadinejad 9 months ago - says nothing.
Well of course, she’s been busy: Who else is gonna cash in on the Victim Ticket because David Letterman did what he’s been doing 5 nights a week for decades?

Look: I get it. The media follows the story. I understand that. My focus here is what’s happening with the benevolent Mrs. Palin. The audacity required to make a mountain out of a molehill while there is a literal volcanic catastrophe happening across the street is the stuff of legend!!!

For every person who’s given me that blank, stunned look when I say Sarah Palin is nothing “like me” - here’s why.
She says what her demographic wants to hear. And while the politics of fear weren’t powerful enough to win her and McCain the election last year, there’s no time like the present to start the campaign trail utilizing the politics of martyrdom in order to get back to the spot where the easier, more prefabricated politics of fear can take over.

Well, now I have something I’m offended about: I had a great show and this narcissistic fraud derailed it while she spun some “insult” to the very same family she’s used to advance her career into the beginning of a campaign that won’t start in earnest for 3 more years!! You haven’t heard the last of me, Palin!

Do Americans - including Christian Americans - actually care that another group of human beings are having their liberties stolen by force? Is it possible that the change we’d all feel safer to see happen is being thwarted by The Tyranny of Evil Men, while we’re over here misapplying poorly executed jokes and throwing fits?

Okay, enough.

Briefly:
Why does Taco Bell give you no Hot Sauce unless you ask, then… 3 pounds of it when you do?

Now that Kobe has his ring without Shaq, all you Lakers-goggle wearing fair weather fans might as well start counting down to the day when you’ll forget why you stuck that goofy flag out of your SUV window so long ago. He’s gone.

So You Think You Can Dance? is the best reality competition on television aside from The Amazing Race. Dudes do watch it… but why don’t they feel comfortable admitting it?
Well:
I’m an out of the closet SYTYCD? fan - and PROUD OF IT.

Speaking of television that no one watches: Pushing Daisies is officially doneski. Way to blow it, world!

I thought that Benjamin Button movie was great until hey had to use an actual little kid and the whole illusion was lost, but Blindness is the worst movie I’ve ever seen. Do not watch it in an attempt to prove me wrong - you’re welcome. I’m certain it qualifies… for this.

Heavy Rotation: White Lies‘ To Lose My Life; House of Heroes‘ The End Is Not The End - particularly the songs “By Your Side” and “Ghost” and… Jim Gaffigan’s King Baby - you will laugh, hard.

I’d like you to keep that in mind from here on out as we put a slight twist on the term “Album Review” with what we call, simply:
Reviews… of Reviews.

Most of the time these babies will be of current albums that we think should get a little more attentive attention. We’ll do our best. Most of the time. That will be all well and good, but as I’ve stated before: I don’t believe that a review is even worth reading unless the person reviewing the album has had some time to experience that album beyond what I’m convinced is the usual regimen of today’s “music critic” - a cursory listen to something the “critic” gets in the mail scattered between reality television shows and too many hours on the XBOX360. I think the real soul of this idea will come from revisiting some of the albums that have stood the test of time after having originally been panned by the self-important fascist regime of Those Who Cannot Do.

With that in mind: Let us begin.
My first offering was in many ways the inspiration for this perspective on the traditional “album review.” Almost 15 years ago, Tool put an album out that changed not only my perception of where Rock music could go, but most of the Stavesacre boys’ perspective (No… what???) and that of an entire generation of Hard Rock music fans and musicians:
ÆNIMA

I’d been a fan of the band since the first E.P. because I felt they bore favorable comparisons to Quicksand. After I spent some time really studying the artwork of the Opiate E.P. I got kinda creeped out, immediately deciding Quicksand was more my speed. Then Undertow came out and I thought, “Hold on… this band is on something else,” Plus: they scared me, honestly. I’d met Danzig and was familiar with the whole Mysterious Rock Singer as Badass image. It was all the rage in the early 90’s: The Frightening Artist.
Where Danzig had all the Devil imagery in his songs - he’d taken the totally original Vaudevillian-meets-B-Horror-Movie cool of the Misfits and appeared to have convinced himself that he really was some kind of werewolf or something - but this band was talking about… other things. Things that were actually both disgusting and utterly disturbing - real things. I won’t go into detail, but suffice to say that some of the previously untapped metaphors utilized in songs called “Prison Sex” and “4º” left one feeling slightly light headed upon repeated listens.
After I saw that creepy little video for “Sober” - where Maynard appears as a blurry nightmare of an image for about 2 seconds - I remember thinking:
Maynard is far scarier than Glenn Danzig - like, I think he’d do something crazy if they got into a fight, like eat his liver or something.
And I wasn’t the only one.

By the time ÆNIMA dropped, Quicksand was history (along with what I’d mistakenly believed was the second wave of Punk Rock) and Danzig was about as scary as that kid from school who played Dungeons & Dragons. (Or World of Warcraft for those of you who have no idea what a 12 sided-die is.) I clearly remember hearing “Hooker With A Penis” for the first time in Jeff Bellew’s truck when the LP came out earlier than the CD - he put it to tape and we listened with our mouths open as about 5 minutes of pure Poetic Justice erupted from the speakers. (more on that later)
When the CD came out I stopped everything, got it home and went directly to my room. Even as an (almost) grown man in his mid-20’s, I didn’t want anyone interrupting me while I was listening to it - headphones on - from start to finish. I probably listened to nothing else for a solid month or two. There was just so much going on that you couldn’t just listen to the album, pick out the single and tire of it immediately. From the mix - layers and layers of power and melody - to the music - brutal, intricate, melodic, powerful, etc. In my mind it was the perfect Hard Rock album, my generation’s “important” Hard Rock album.

Then, the critics got hold of it.

Back then - a million years ago, when people still bought magazines - I used to check out what Rolling Stone and SPIN had to say about anything that I was into. They were the Authorities. I was stoked when a band I’d already known about was on the verge of success - it was like a nice big, “I Told Ya So.” ÆNIMA was great, all of my friends and I knew it was great, and we were looking to tell the world once again: “Told ya.”
I opened Rolling Stone Magazine and this is what I read:

Noise as purgative: Tool shove their iron-spike riffing and shock-therapy polemics right up the claustrophobic dead end of so-called alternative metal in the name of a greater metaphysical glory – something along the fuzzy lines of Jungian cyberoccultism. That’s all very admirable and even a bit impressive; anyone who tries to elevate heavy music above cock-rock clown time is to be encouraged. Still, the best parts of Ænima come when Tool just let the music rip and dip with the broiling, avant-metal ferocity of Led Zeppelin’s Presence. Also, let us call a moratorium on concept CDs that come with lightweight “Intermission” instrumental tracks. If you need to take a piss in the middle of the record, just hit the pause button.

Now… what this doesn’t show is the fact that it got 1 out of whatever they were giving - I honestly forget because I immediately dismissed anything this magazine had to say about hard music from the moment I read the last line of the review. It was such a slap in the face: You’re jocking artists like LIVE, BUSH, R.E.M., Hole and… SON VOLT(???) and you’ve just treated this album as self-indulgent Prog-Rock, or to be more specific “taking a piss”??? (Plus: Britishisms? Seriously?) Good grief, this Fricke guy strikes me as one of those dudes who talks like he’s in Oasis but lives in Ohio. (BTW: if you can find the SPIN magazine review of this very same album, you’ll find an even more brutal and dismissive splooge of snobbery) Hey millionaires! You suck!

Wouldn’t be the first time anyone has said that. Hmm, wonder why they jock Led Zeppelin all the time now? Whatever, different subject…

ÆNIMA was new. New, in an age of not much new; new, meaning fresh, original and (sometimes in this case, disturbing, but ultimately) NEW.
Songs like the aforementioned “Hooker…” were a new take on the relationship between band and fan - and the brutal extension of what really goes through the mind of someone who’s just had some ignorant little shit tell them they’d sold out; the title track was a Shane Lechler kick to the groin for any person who really believed that their skewed self-image were actually a thing of value. “Stinkfist” (or, more comfortably, “Track #1″) was social commentary on the way we as a society have become desensitized by over-stimulated media blitzing… I think. Okay, I hope; “Eulogy” was about as final a coffin nail on the Martyred Hero complex as one could imagine. Throughout the album, artwork to sound bites, there was dry, hard as nails gallows-humor to keep it moving: Images of California sinking into the sea as punishment for it’s sins by way of an album cover that could have come out of a CrackerJack box; tributes to the late Bill Hicks; and lyrics, lyrics, lyrics. From unusual metaphors to clever word plays (Album Title: ÆNIMA. Title track: ÆNEMA) this album goes to great lengths to give the listener something to figure out. And the melody? There’s a moment on the song “Jimmy” that shows you just how amazing this guy’s voice is - should shed some light on why someone like Tricky, another artist who was actually doing something new around that time, said, “I wish I had a voice like the guy of Tool.”
At that time, who in Hard Rock was writing at this depth? No one. Maybe… Trent Reznor? The lyrics at times were both revealing & vulnerable (”Jimmy,” “Third Eye”) and sarcastic social commentary (”Stinkfist,” title track, “Hooker”). Every once in a while just plain… batty. “46 & 2″ is still my favorite song off the album but I’ve never taken it too seriously - it’s just a great song. And that bass line…
That’s the other thing: No one out there was doing the musical calculus that these guys were. Rage Against the Machine had all kinds of spitfire and venom, and while musically they were superior to most every other “Hard Rock” band out there, Tool was doing bizarre time signatures and layered compositions that brought to mind less Led Zeppelin and more… Peter Gabriel? (I remember hearing the David Bottrill would be taking Sylvia Massy’s place on the album… not sure if he acted as engineer or more, but the difference in production between this and the first two releases was night and day.)

The album opened up options for Hard Rock music in general - people saw that art didn’t have to be sacrificed in order to have force. (although, again: Jane’s kinda already started that ball rolling…) Essentially, ÆNIMA gave Hard Rock fans and musicians an option to be more than just meatheads.
No one told me these things… they’re just the conclusions I’ve drawn after years of listening to these songs, drawing them in and working out the artistic interpretations that were available to me. The point is… to say this album merely “elevated c#@%-rock” is a gross understatement. The album has depth that only the truly devoted listener knows is there - to pan this disc as an average Hard Rock album that simply needs to let the band do its thing is just… seriously incomplete in it’s evaluation of the album in question. There is power, imagery - some disturbing, some simply poignant - here that the “cursory” listen will not allow a full appreciation of.

This might just be what happens when you review something as a job - you’re over it, you give it a quick once over and move on. Maybe it’s what happens when a Jazz guy has to review a Rock album.
Or maybe it’s just what happens when someone who has never done this, is given a job telling those who have done this… how to do this.

“Those who can’t do teach. Those who can’t teach, teach gym.”
— Woody Allen

Anyway, I usually read each weekly edition from cover to cover, looking forward to the next week’s edition about two days after the one in my hand showed up in my mailbox.
Usually.
This latest edition has me… uncomfortable.
It started with the cover:

So. Dreamy.

… Once in a very long while, someone arrives who doesn’t just dominate American Idol, but challenges and even changes it. Idol has always positioned itself as a portal to what ”America” (meaning, its particular viewers) desires in a newly anointed star. It’s no accident that each episode’s opening credits showcase faceless CGI humanoids striding toward their destinies. Idol stars are supposed to be blank slates, ”relatable” folk with extraordinary talent whom we elect in an orderly fashion and elevate to success.

Meet Adam Lambert. Adam has messed all that up. Adam is nobody’s idea of a blank slate. Adam is a surprise.

Essentially all that is a lead up to the “big” controversy: Adam Lambert might be gay.

“Wait a minute! This guy is… g-g-g-gay??? Well I NEVER! Somebody grab a rope!!!”

I live in Southern California - lived in Long Beach for a couple years. I worked in Hollywood.
Gay is not shocking. Gay doesn’t even strike me as especially… special. You want shocking and special? One night outside the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard, a man ask my friend Margaret for a cigarette - when she held one out to him he got an exasperated look on his face, huffed and then lifted up two stumps. He was born without hands. “Can’t you light it for me?”
(How does one begin to…? Never mind)
That was kinda shocking. Gay? Not so much.

I could care less if dude is gay, straight or capable of card tricks. Seriously. It’s not my concern - I love everybody. I am uncomfortable with people telling me what I’m uncomfortable with, but this isn’t about whether or not I need some total stranger defining my character - we’ll save that for another day. The cover declares this guy the “most exciting” contestant in years - that’s what’s burnin’ my butt. For those involved, the conversation has officially changed and music has nothing to do with it. So… just what we need: Another image first, talent later scenario.
I liked it better when the artist had a great song, then I cared enough to actually find out that artist’s life beyond the music. Now we switch that around, and the reason we’re supposed to buy this kid’s albums is because… he’s “different.” Something seems fishy here.

He’s exciting, why?
Why, on this “singing show,” is this guy so exciting? I thought American Idol was about the singing, I had no idea it was a “portal” to the American soul. Why didn’t anyone tell me this?

This talk of Adam Lambert’s “specialness” and verve has very little to do with singing. On a show purportedly about undiscovered singing talent, at issue here is image and fashion… otherwise known as something other than singing. Again.
When are these people gonna learn?
“He has a big voice.”
Y’know, so have like 90% of the people who’ve ever made it to the finals for the show. The celebrities on TV shows talk about their charities in the same way: it’s an afterthought. Why is he any more exciting than anyone who preceded him? Because he looks like Pete Wentz with way too much foundation? Peter Parker with way too much foundation?

Appearing right before us is a very convincing example of why the music industry sucks.
It starts off being about music, gets sidetracked on image and then, like a child that sees a pretty butterfly, completely forgets the original point, too busy chasing after some irrelevant “angle.” Next thing you know, music is not even what we’re talking about anymore.

I used to watch American Idol all the time.
First it was kind of exciting - watching singers who’d never really had a chance before get the opportunity to be successful. It was occasionally hilarious, watching those people who sincerely thought they were great singers prove to America that they were not. Every once in a while you’d get the entitled kids, so sure of their future Star Quality after being fed years of lines from their stagemothers/snakeoilsalesman/stalkers “vocal coaches,” only to be systematically and irrevocably shut down. It lost some of its luster after the second or third idiot who showed up wearing a diaper or dressed like an androgynous wizard in order to get a shot at 15 seconds of utterly willful self-humiliation disguised as “fame”; the excitement was in full wane when all the actual singers with actual vocal coaches and a couple actual failed record deals (… or photo shoots) started lining up. Like most aspects of the music industry, it turned into a lot of posturing, a lot of “playing the game” and so forth.
The final nosedive into Lame Pond? While this “singing competition” devolved into a popularity contest that parents would feel comfortable allowing their 9 year olds to become involved with, it somehow remembered that it was at one time a “singing competition” - and as a result, it sort of half-assed it back to music. Quicker than you can say “Kelly Clarkson” we had a popularity contest for the kids and an Adult Contemporary Orgy for the parents.

AHHH! What they’ve done to the music… I’m sorry, but I call it quits when Barry “Staple Face” Manilow is supposedly giving people advice on how to be a Pop singer today. Add in those same 9 year old girls out there screaming their brains out for a man whose smile starts behind his earlobes? Gimme the remote.
(You wonder why every other one of them does lousy after they win this show???)
I mean… Andrew Lloyd Weber? Plus: At a certain point in one’s life, one must ask oneself, “Am I really entertained by the latest poorly executed Jim Morrison wannabe, especially when he insists upon staring ever-so-longingly into a camera?”

That’s a lot of dork to deal with on purpose.
After last season’s über Adult Contemporary, “Yay-We-Got-Chris-Daughtry-After-All!” finish, it just wasn’t that fun anymore, honestly. David Cook may really be talented, but he’s now contractually obligated to the dimwits responsible for this.

Oh hey, check this out.
(teehee.)

I’ve heard Randy Jackson say it over and over: “This is a singing competition.”
Really? ‘Cause it seems more like a high school election.
I’ve been aware that the show was more about image than it was about talent for a while now - one need only check out a couple seasons ago when this chick with a decent voice:

So. Dreamy.

So. Dude.

And yet here we are, with magazines like my beloved Entertainment Weekly giving their valuable cover space to Adam Lambert. All this stuff about the dude’s flamboyant personality and so very little about music. The article asks the question:

Can an openly gay contestant win American Idol?

The conversation has officially changed.
What if the dude is actually… good? Will we ever know?
What if he wins and his album doesn’t sell? What if he doesn’t win and it sells like gangbusters?
See the dilemma we’ve got on our hands? Music really has nothing to do with it anymore so essentially no matter what happens, this guy’s story is gonna be about whether or not he’s gay - with some singing sprinkled in for color.
It’s not exclusive to American Idol, by the way - but they’re an easy target so… I say blame them.
Someone’s gotta pay. Someone’s gotta set an example.
Someone’s gotta be the example if we’re ever gonna get music to matter again - why not them?

Two apparent new tracks from Beastie Boys have surfaced. “Lee Majors Come Again” and “B Boys in the Cut” were part of a bonus 7″ that came with select copies of the band’s recent 4-LP reissue of their 1992 album, Check Your Head.

“Lee Majors Come Again” can be heard here, and “B Boys in the Cut” can be heard here.

The band’s new record is expected this summer, and they’ll be one of the headliners at Lollapalooza in August.

Don’t you just hate it when bands do weird and thought-provoking crap like this? Wouldn’t it be so much better if they just debuted their songs on an overplayed, overexposed iTunes commercial, as opposed to letting their true fans do a little digging? Geez. So ’90’s.

Popular music/social media website last.fm has started charging users outside of the United States, United Kingdom and Germany a fee for their streaming radio services. After a 30 song trial period expires, users must pay a €3.00 monthly fee to continue utilizing the streaming radio services. Some reasons behind the change were given on the site’s official blog:

Last.fm Radio has always been ad supported, which means we sell ads on the site to cover the cost of running the service and paying the music licensing fees. If you’ve spent more than 5 minutes on the site you’ll know that the Last.fm community is international to the extreme – we are made up of people from practically every country in the world. Last.fm is a better place for it.

However, we simply can’t be in every country where our radio service is available selling the ads we need to support the service. The Internet is global, and geographic restrictions seem unfair, but it’s a reality we are faced with every day when managing our music licensing partnerships.

The rest of the site’s features (scrobbling, recommendations, charts, biographies, events, videos, etc.) will remain free in all countries.

I suppose my only question here is… What?
I don’t know, I’m sure there’s a scam somewhere in here, but I’m too burnt out to create find it.

“Oh, he’s like Pearl Jam!”
- Jim Gaffigan

In an interview with MorbidZine.com, D.R.I. guitarist Spike Cassidy ruled out the possibility of a new studio album. He notes:

I’m not sure. We live in four different states across the country. Washington, California, Texas and Florida. Just to practice will cost thousands in plane fare alone. Money that we don’t have. We all have our own lives and families now, conflicts in scheduling keep us from touring right now. We might be able put together some shows, but it wont be easy. We have a long way to go before we are working on a new album again. I just hope we can play a few shows.

The band has not released any new material since 1995’s Full Speed Ahead, despite touring off and on for the past couple years. The band went on hiatus back in 2006.

Sounds familiar…
Guys, call me.

It’s back! We’re a little late in letting the tens of you good people who regularly visit our website know about it, but we’re exceptionally pleased with ourselves to announce the return of The Sub Pop Scholarship! We’ve done this for the past few years (2007 announcement and winning loser, the 2008 announcement and last year’s crop of losers) and are really just ridiculously happy to be able to do so again this year (you know, what with the virtual collapse of the record industry, the generally crappy state of the economy, this swine flu business, etc.).

So! The details!

Sub Pop Records in Seattle, WA is offering a grand total of $13,000 worth of college scholarship money to three eligible high school seniors. There are three scholarships—one for $6,000, one for $4,000 and one for $3,000. To apply for these scholarships you must be a resident of Washington or Oregon, and a graduating senior on your way to full-time enrollment at an accredited university or college. We are looking for an applicant who is involved and/or interested in music and/or the creative arts in some way.

To apply for these scholarships we would like you to submit an essay, no longer than one page, letting us know about one or more of the following topics:

• What are you doing in the arts/music field in your community?
• How and/or why did you become interested in artistic outlets?
• How would this scholarship money help you progress in your chosen field?
• What are your influences and/or who inspires you?
• Who are some of your favorite bands or artists?

Applicants are encouraged to send digital links and provide hard copies of their artwork along with their essay. However, please be aware that Sub Pop will not return any of this material, so please don’t send originals. Sub Pop will give equal opportunity to all applicants who fit the criteria outlined above. The deadline for applications is June 15th.

Please send all submissions and attachments to scholarship@subpop.com

All physical submissions should be sent to:

Sub Pop Records
Attn: Scholarship
2013 4th Ave, 3rd Floor
Seattle, WA 98121

Amount: $6,000 / $4,000 / $3,000 – checks will be made payable to the university or college of the winning applicants’ choice and applied to winning applicants’ tuition.