hypnopomp and circumstance

Jackass 3: Meaningless Bravery

2011-12-21T11:11:00.001-08:00

I once saw a portion of a documentary about a South American tribe. Part of their ritual passage to adulthood involved elaborate stunts designed to bring the youth face to face with fear. They stood on top of tree trunks that had been shorn of all branches. The trunks were held in place by guide wire. Which were then removed. The teen had to scramble to hold onto the falling trunk. The philosophy behind it was to prepare the teen for the perils of adulthood and hunting.

I studiously avoided "Jackass" while it was on television and by the time they'd transitioned into movie theaters I was full-on into parenting and was only seeing Pixar films.

Oh, I'd seen snippets here and there and knew who all the reprobates were but I'd not been IMMERSED.

My outlook on them, I'll admit, was shaped in large part by the traditional media response. They were degenerates, this was everything that was wrong with America, these no-talent attention-whores needed to be stopped.

I was reminded of how much heat skateboarders took when that craze started hitting the streets. Apparently it was okay to join a group of kids and pursue an activity but going out and doing it ON YOUR OWN IN PUBLIC was beyond the pale.

So I am a bit ashamed of the knee-jerk conservatism that I was espousing.

Imagine my surprise when I finally watched the movie "Jackass". Melody was bartending and I was in NYC for a few days visiting. The bar had a downstairs private room with a TV and VCR. Yes, vcr. The only tape? "Jackass".

I figured I should watch this piece of trash. An hour and a half later I was exhausted from crying and laughing and recoiling in horror. They changed my mind entirely that night.

Human beings love to witness acts of bravery. We re-tell them, we fictionalize them, we invent them in order to shine a spotlight on the best facet of human behavior. Our willingness to ignore peril if need be.

The image of the firefighter rushing into a burning building is the perfect example. An act like that reassures us that we are NOT simply beasts, that we have a higher level of morality, that we can operate heroically INSIDE of fear. In fact, this might be one of our defining characteristics. Animals do amazing things in response to danger but they don't have the same knowledge of mortality that we do.

I find there to be a deep beautiful philosophy at work in the "Jackass" catalog. And I am one-hundred-percent serious.

They isolate that characteristic - the human ability to face grave danger with aplomb and they REMOVE THE CONTEXT FROM IT. I find this to be endlessly fascinating.

In "Jackass 3", Johnny Knoxville does a stunt called "Invisible Man" in which he is painted to fit perfectly into a mural of a rainbow spread across a field with a tree in it. Knoxville stands in front of the mural and the camera is lined up so that he essentially disappears.

A bull is then let loose into the corral. The hope is that he will be "invisible". But of course, the bull isn't perfectly lined up like the camera. Bulls can't see color. Knoxville is a sitting duck. He successfully evades a goring but then the bull sneaks around the back of the mural and roars out at Knoxville. He leaps to avoid the bull but the bull rams his legs, sending Knoxville head over heels into the mud, receiving a nice kick in the head for his trouble.

As Knoxville is standing there and hoping against hope that the bull will not see him, his fear is palpable. The charming thing about all of the "Jackass" crew is that they allow us to see their fear. They don't hide it with false bravado like so many of the youtube pretenders who intentionally hurt themselves for attention.

And that is why I can occasionally find myself very moved while watching instead of just horrified or grossed-out. It is as if they are showing us that we don't have to be so afraid of pain, that we are stronger than we think.

If you transplant these staged stunts into real life, a whole layer of respect and admiration would come into play. A man was inadvertently left in a corral and withstood a brutal bull charge! The strength! Two members of a marching band were attacked by a ram! The trumpet player distracted the ram from the tuba player who was almost unconscious on the ground!

Meaningless bravery.

And total acceptance of your friends. There is a running gag in "Jackass 3" called "Rocky" in which Bam Margera sneaks up on someone from behind. He throws water at one side of their face to distract them and punches them from the other with a boxing glove.

Do fights ensue? No! The person rolls around on the ground in pain for a while and then they laugh and hug.

I know it sounds stupid but for me, it accentuates how capable we are of forgiveness, how willing we are as human beings to incorporate flaws into our relationships. The acceptance of these ambushes is very telling.

My favorite portion of "Jackass 3" comes when we see Ryan Dunn sitting in a comfy leather chair in a re-enactment of the famous speaker ad. He seems to be in a comfortable living room. The air from the speaker becomes so intense that he is actually blown from the chair. We then see that the "speaker noise" is being generated by the tail end of a jet airplane which is about 30 feet from Dunn.

He is blown across the airfield. He attempts to get up. He is blown further back. He is blown along the ground for several yards. He struggles to position himself so that he can even attempt to stand up. After a few agonizing moments he achieves upright status. But it is clearly taking every ounce of his will to do so.

After that massive effort to stand up, what does he do?

He jumps into the air so that he will be hurled backwards again. Because he knows it will make his friends laugh. What I was left with was the image of a small creature buffeted about by a force impossibly greater than its own. And that creature didn't crawl away in disgrace. He got up time and again to continue to face it. And tried to get a laugh doing it.

Consider me a jackass.

Too Late For Stitches

2011-07-28T13:43:00.000-07:00

So I sliced my finger open at the Hollywood Bowl while waiting for Dolly Parton to come on stage to do the second half of her incredible concert. I was attempting to use a bottle opener to pry a bottlecap off of a large Stella Artois. The cap took a layer of glass with it and my finger met this jagged terminus in a lusty embrace.

I moseyed on down to the First Aid Center beneath the Bowl. A drunken older female fan who could never have gotten away with the length of her skirt anywhere else in the world was up on a table while a nice EMT dabbed her bleeding knee with Hydrogen peroxide. Her daughter paced outside the room on a cell phone in an even smaller outfit. One too young, one too old for their respective skirts.

My EMT was a burly guy who gently daubed at the cut, told me I should go to an Urgent Care facility for stitches, and then told me that HE wouldn't go if the same thing happened to him. So I let him wrap the cut and I headed back up to my seat.

Melody was waiting, worried.

Dolly was transcendent, playing about 10 different instruments, cracking jokes left and right, and pouring her heart out in song.

Cut to a couple of days later and I begin to be convinced that there is still glass in the cut. My doctor reassured me that there was not. But when I asked if I needed stitches, she said, "Oh no, it's too late for stitches."

This statement has been bouncing around in my brain ever since I heard it. It seems apropos in all areas of my life. I am healing. I ought to have sought help earlier than I did. Therefore, I will heal from the damage the best I can.

I am not viewing this in a negative way. It is really a jolt of gratitude that is prominent in my thinking. Because how could I ever wish for a different life than the one I've got? To trade even the darkest of detail for some unknown lighter possibility is to deny the brightest of the bright spots that I have had access to. And that is simply not honorable.

So yes, it is too late for stitches. Yes, I let injury go untreated. But like Dolly at the Bowl, what a show I've gotten to see.

Earth, I love ya, babe.

I Have Tried To Remain Positive

2011-06-01T15:59:00.000-07:00

But man, do I hate Janis Joplin. And Van Morrison.

April Fail's Day 2011

2011-04-04T09:45:00.000-07:00

Every April Fool's Day I get my sister Siobhan with some crazy notion. Over the years I have convinced her that the Yankees were moving to New Jersey, that I'd played a private gig jamming with The Replacements' drummer, and in a prank I regret because it worried her, I claimed I had a broken foot and I needed her to come to Los Angeles immediately to drive me around for the next month. She's such a good sister, she agreed on a MOMENT'S NOTICE!

After that one I vowed that my pranks would never be sad or scary again.

But for the past couple of years she has been impervious. I would call her and she would answer the phone already on the defensive..."What? What is it, Bren? What do you have to tell me? What's goin' on???"

I'd almost given up hope.

Then, last October, I had a flash, the kind that all the great geniuses talk about. I saw the whole thing laid out before me. It was like being able to tell the future!

In five minutes I had the whole plan.

Immediately I contacted Nate Shelkey, an old friend of the O'Malley family. Nate and Siobhan went to James Madison University together and have remained close friends. Nate was to be crucial to my plan.

I laid out my dastardly plot to him and he jumped on board. I will now be cutting and pasting from a succession of emails between Nate and I about emails he sent to Siobhan...

Email # 1

November 16, 2010

"I am auditioning for a feature directed by some hotshot kid who went to JMU. He is a sports fan and saw my Santa ESPN thing and asked his manager to find me. What a coincidence, huh? He has only been out here six months but his short films got him a studio job directing a supernatural thriller. I audition next week...psyched."

Nate paraphrased a bit from that paragraph which I instructed him to send. He was worried that she might ask what the guy's name was but, and later this would seem like a sign that we'd missed, she merely took the information in as par for the course in Nate's busy burgeoning acting career.

Email Trail # 2

December 3, 2010

nate shelkey wrote:

it is done!

On Mon, Nov 29, 2010 at 3:47 PM, wrote:

...INITIATE.

In this email you will DOWNPLAY your excitement at the callback because it is such a big part and your agent/manager said names might be attached.

The film is not yet titled but it entails a desperate man's search for a shadowy figure from his past. Feel free to elaborate on the horror/suspense acting you are working on for your callback which happens at the end of this week.

Now that she hasn't asked the name of the director you can concentrate on the MOVIE instead of the fact that the guy is from JMU.

Embellish however you see fit keeping in mind that we will be shooting some of what you write.

Somewhere in December Nate actually saw Siobhan in New York City...the big callback in his career was not discussed.

My theory in the next phase was that we would wait until March to continue the lie. This is what Nate wrote to Siobhan that day...

Email # 3

March 8, 2011

Two exciting bits o' news.

#1 I booked my first co-star! It's for Chuck. I play a Super Shuttle Driver. It shoots next week and it is a very funny little scene. Should be fun! I'm totally excited!

#2 Remember that movie I was telling you about? Well, I got that part and we finished shooting. I wasn't really allowed to say anything about it before. But it looks like they are gonna give me some footage so I can put it on my reel before the whole thing is done. I really wanna update my reel so I can hopefully get some sort of agent interest while pilot season is still going on!

I can't wait to show you my big scene. It should be pretty cool---I still am sort of nervous about it because I've been used to doing comedy so long that I am a little rusty on serious acting! Yeesh. You'll have to let me know what you think!

Now in the meantime, Nate, Cousin Timothy, and I got together at the office where I work (as of next Monday I'm moving on though, after 4 years, post coming on that whole big thing) and we shot for a couple of hours.

We then met the next weekend to edit it at Nate's apartment.

The final product was ready and waiting.

Final Email (or so we thought)

March 31, 2011 (8:55PM sent)

Nate Wrote:

Okay, here we go. Exciting! Here is a clip that they gave me for my reel. It's a rough cut but this is basically the beginning of the movie. Does it seem good enough for like something dramatic?

Razing The Bar

Let me know what you think.

Please take a moment to watch the video before we continue on with the post. It is just over 3 minutes long.

Are you back? You can see how the joke would play out, right??? She's been hearing about this movie for almost 6 months and finally when she watches it, there is ME, ACTUALLY SAYING THE WORDS "APRIL" AND "FOOL".

Can't miss, right???

Wrong.

Siobhan emailed Nate saying, "Looks great! Good film quality!"

She clearly had not watched the whole thing! She must have seen a portion of it and then moved on, as we all do with the myriad things people send us to watch. We enlisted Siobhan's fiance Ben to help hammer the point home.

Nate posted the clip to Ben's wall and Siobhan's wall on Facebook.

Hours later? She "liked" it. NO REACTION!!! WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON???

Ben frantically texted me that I needed to check my email. Okay, maybe he wasn't frantic but I was by this point.

I checked my email. This is what Ben wrote to me...

Email # 37 (uncounted emails between Nate and I wondering how the plan could have gone wrong)

April 3, 2011

Got home, asked if she'd watched this video Nate posted on my wall, she said, "yeah, I watched it." Boom.

So, quite a bit later, I sat down next to her, started watching w/ volume off, and laughed loudly when you came on. She asked why i was laughing, i said, "Did you watch the whole thing from Nate? B/c something really funny just happened." So I started it over, put the laptop in her lap, and videoed her watching the thing, TOTALLY ENJOYING IT, AND NOT GETTING THE JOKE! I even said, after, "were you surprised Brendan was in it?" And, "If it was for Nate's 'serious' reel, it seemed pretty goofy." But no, she said--no problem--the serious part before you came in could all be used for the reel. Oh, and how great Tim participated, too.

So--no fucking idea what comes next! But as much as I was almost giggling, and probably also looking amazed throughout the whole thing, she doesn't know anything yet. So we can keep trying. But I don't know how...

I'd finally had enough. I called up and demanded to speak with Siobhan.

I explained the whole thing to her and she kept saying, "You did all that?" But the joke had never landed.

Or, it did land, but right on top of me. Siobhan had finally gotten me back.

April Fail's Day!!!

Back From Bogota!

2011-02-22T11:28:00.000-08:00

So Bogota was gorgeous and I made some great new friends and I experienced a completely different culture first hand and I had a brand new work experience unlike any I've ever gone through before. A slam dunk of a trip.

All that being said, it was good to get home and see Melody and Cashel and sit around and relax with them. It seems as if Cash got taller in the week I was gone. I told him to stop it!

549. Dedicated Follower Of Fashion - The Kinks from 'The Ultimate Collection (Disc 1)'

While I love The Kinks, this song is sort of nasty. It seems to be poking fun at a guy who loves fashion and underneath the whole song is a current of homophobia. Very catchy but mean.

550. It's Only Love That Gets You Through - Sade from 'Lovers Rock'

She is effortless. It is as if every sound you hear is coming directly out of her psyche, perfectly expressing some previously inarticulate need that had been etched over time into a multi-faceted diamond of tears, kisses, hurts, triumphs, and loss.

551. Grace - Jeff Buckley from 'Grace'

Pipes. Total pipes.

552. Murder Suicide Meteor Slave - Jeff Buckley from 'Sketches For My Sweetheart The Drunk'

Odd that the iPod would jump to another Buckley song but one from the unfinished vault of material he was working on when he died. He seems to be deliberately avoiding the kind of effortless beauty of the first album and the strain of that effort is all I can hear. On this whole sprawling album of strange material there is not one song I come away humming, as opposed to every song on 'Grace'. That isn't necessarily a negative, I enjoy antagonistic melody as much as the next post-punk but when you can break a heart like Jeff Buckley you might want to go for it.

553. Tell Your Granddad - Jesse Grieves from 'Colonial Box'

My friend Justin has been recording music since we were teenagers, sometimes we would record together, sometimes he would do it on his own. This particular song he played for me one lost afternoon at his house out in the middle of nowhere and it still makes me laugh to this day.

Tell your Granddad I love his daughter
Tell your Mother she should be a little calmer
Because I'm coming for her
But I'll take you

Ha!

554. Do You Want To Know A Secret - The Beatles from 'Please Please Me'

Pristine and perfect.

555. Enchanting Transylvania - Lenny Bruce from 'The Lenny Bruce Originals - Volume 1'

Again, impossible to explain. Just buy any live Lenny Bruce recordings you can find. You will not be sorry.

556. Rock Monsieur - Rock Failair from 'Boris Vian Et Ses Interpretes'

The joke here is that a 'croque monsieur' is a sandwich much like a grilled cheese. Get it? Rock Monsiuer? Mr. Rock? Poor poor French rockers.

557. Hain's Point - Rites Of Spring from 'End On End'

Again, the songs are forgettable but the sound and the delivery is so impassioned that it truly doesn't matter. Total commitment.

558. Trouble With Dreams - Eels from 'Live At Town Hall'

Life must be hard for a guy who has developed such a following that he can sell out Town Hall and gather them together to bum them out all at once.

559. The Heart Of Saturday Night - Tom Waits from 'The Heart Of Saturday Night'

No rasp, no engine blocks dressed up to sound like harpsichords, no creaking doors played in the key of E minor...just a great song sung really well.

560. Been A Son - Nirvana from 'Incesticide'

Killer melody. I remember getting this album and discovering Eugenius aka Captain America through the song 'Molly's Lips' and everything else on there pales in comparison. Still great, though.

561. Hypnotise - The White Stripes from 'Elephant'

I'm sorry, I had to duck under my desk to avoid the rampaging hype.

562. Message To The Boys - The Replacements from 'Don't You Know Who I Think I Was'

When The Replacements were putting together a batch of remixes and bonus tracks to be simultaneously released, the three living original members (Westerberg, Tommy Stinson, Chris Mars) got together and recorded two new songs to go along with it. This is one of 'em and it is a load of fun.

563. Holier Than Thou - Metallica from 'Black Album'

This is not a load of fun. Great, but fun? No.

564. Autumn Leaves - Rob Wasserman/Rickie Lee Jones from 'Duets'

You know what is most annoying about 'Autumn Leaves'? When they get wet they smell like shit. And when they are dry they blow away.

565. Son - Deconstruction from 'Deconstruction'

Dave Navarro organized this project right after Jane's Addiction first imploded and I think it is a very interesting album. Not sure to this day why I bought it seeing as I was not a Jane's Addiction fan but whenever I hear a song from it I am glad I own it.

566. Last Exit - Pearl Jam from 'Vitalogy'

I know Eddie Vedder has farted in his life and it probably was funny. I know he must have cracked a joke in his life and it probably was funny. There are four or five other members of the band who must have done at least one funny thing in their lives at one point or another.

Strange, but not ONE of those moments has ever made it onto an album. Heads up, Jam, life is FUN.

567. Carry That Weight - The Beatles from 'Abbey Road'

Pearl Jam could take a hint from these guys who on one album side introduced us to Mean Mr. Mustard and Polythene Pam.

568. THE FAT SHIT! - Poppa Foxtrot 'Single'

I rest my case for funny music.

The Massive Bogota Shuffle

2011-01-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

Please pardon the down time between posts but I've had quite a time of it these past few weeks. By this time tomorrow I'll be headed to Bogota for a great gig and I've been hunkered down making sure I feel ready to roll. And I do.

Plus I've had a hard time keeping the iPod charged enough to type in my shuffle lists. What has been happening is I'll do a shuffle, get to work, scroll back to type in all the songs and by the time I've done that the battery has shit the proverbial bed.

So today, to make sure I post something before I head off to South America for the first time in my life (one of the many firsts this work trip is affording me), I brought the damn iPod charger with me. The following list is a huge one, a shuffle that has been going since sometime last week.

I won't blame you if you scroll through and pick and choose. There are times since I started this crazy project (i.e. reviewing every single song on my iPod, 6,973 to be exact, hope you plan on reading me until 2017) when I wish I could skip over certain songs, albums, whole genres. But I'm sticking to my self-imposed guns.

422. The Wedge - Dick Dale from King of The Surf Guitar: The Best Of Dick Dale

As a member of that vast six string fraternity I bow in reverence and homage to our house president, the man who has organize and scored so many sweet parties, drawing hot babes from all walks of life into our humble frat house, taking their occasionally reluctant feet and hearts and setting them to dance so that they might shake off their collegiate inhibitions and maybe flash us their tits.

423. Swanee River - Django Reinhardt from 'The Art Of The Jazz Guitar'

After having graduated from the awesome though perhaps more low-brow Dick Dale Academy and enrolling in graduate school in the Django Reinhardt School Of You'll-Never-Be-As-Good-As-Me-And-I-Only-Have-Three-Fingers Jazz Playing, the tendency is sometimes to throw your five-fingered inadequacies up in the air and simply say, "Why the hell do I even bother when cats like this can destroy me with their eyes closed and two fewer digits???' But ultimately inspiration prevails and you happily settle into your low status as a six-stringer.

424. Cathedral - Van Halen from 'Diver Down'

And then Eddie Van Halen says, "Why did you ever even go to college you kiss ass? I quit high school and listen to how I can play!"

425. O Girlfriend - Weezer from 'Weezer (Green Album)'

When Weezer open it up and let it pour out in sincerity and heartfelt emotion, there is no one better. When it is Rivers Cuomo testing out his math theories through songwriting exercises that involve throwing darts at topics and mixing them up with a formula that he was working on when he was at Harvard, not so much. This is thankfully from the first category. There is such a thing as being too smart for your own good.

426. God Damn King Kong - Pimp Fu/Bomer-B from 'Brooklyn Basement Tapes'

This is actually a cut on Pimp Fu's 'Coffe, Pot' classic but I'll also be including it on some future best-of-compilation...it is the first thing that Timothy and I ever recorded together so it is impossibly precious to me.

It took us a couple of hours. Timothy laid down the beat first to accompany the title that I had had in my head for ten years. Then we each wrote a couple bars to match the number of stanzas to the beat. Then I recorded an electric guitar track to mimic the zip-zip of a turntable being scratched and a melodic acoustic part to give it some melody.

Up there with my favorite artistic output ever.

427. Stomping Grounds - Fecund Youth from 'Branded: Hung Like A Bull'

That iPod must be thinking about my career retrospective! Tom DeVincke and I had been writing songs for a couple of months when he challenged me to write better lyrics. I'd basically been moping about some girl or five and being the dyed-in-the-wool punk rocker that he is, Tom felt that I ought to write about "something that matters". Now, I'm not saying these lyrics are worthy of the Nobel Peace prize but that little push sent me into much more complex territory. This impresses me about Tom to this day. That he would have the thought and express it.

428. Better Living Through Chemistry - Queens Of The Stone Age from 'Rated R'

Makes me want to be out at Joshua Tree at sunset around a fire with a bale of marijuana blazing away just over the hill so I can feel better about catching a contact high.

429. Disappearing Act - Ron Sexsmith from 'Cobblestone Runway'

I've been humming this song since I heard it again. This guy is the real deal and this is a killer tune.

430. Winter - Bebel Gilberto from 'Bebel Gilberto'

Sexy.

431. Kill You - Eminem from 'The Marshall Mathers LP'

Hilarious.

432. If I Fell - The Beatles from 'A Hard Day's Night'

Beatles.

433. Suicide Doors - Jack Logan from 'Mood Elevator'

How this guy slipped through the cracks back into obscurity is a major shame. His story is a fascinating one. Look him up sometime.

434. Disappearer - Sonic Youth from 'Goo'

Every now and then Sonic Youth inexplicably become the sexiest band on earth. I still don't understand why or how but it happens.

435. Madrin Rain - The Pogues from 'Hell's Ditch'

Great album produced by Joe Strummer. Shane McGowan sounds like a MESS. It's a wonder that guy is still alive.

436. Promises - Fugazi from '13 Songs'

This album went off like a bomb in the hardcore punk world and had all sorts of idiots screaming "SELL OUT" which in retrospect is hilarious.

437. Penitentiary - Ice Cube from 'War & Peace Volume 1 (The War Disc)'

Yeh-yeh!

438. You Brought A New Kind Of Love To Me - Frank Sinatra from 'Songs For Swingin' Lovers'

When Frank put this album out it was sort of a game changer, for his career as well as for the concept of the album in general. It was a cohesive unit, not just a random collection of songs. It was designed to be a single artistic achievement thematically, sonically, emotionally. This has sort of been lost in the shuffle of the magnitude of Ol' Blue Eyes career but he basically invented THE ALBUM.

439. Bullet The Blue Sky - U2 from 'Joshua Tree'

Bono thinks he is emoting with all his grunts and overbearing sighs but he just sounds constipated. Take some kaopectate and just sing, please.

440. Damned If I Do - The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 1)'

More excellence from the most bizarre superstar on the face of the earth.

441. Mannish Boy - Muddy Waters from 'Goodfellas (Soundtrack)'

What is there to say?

442. Love Me Do - The Beatles from 'Please Please Me'

Beatles.

443. The World May Never Know - Dr. Dog from 'Easy Beat'

Silly but forgettable.

444. Let's Stay Together - Al Green from 'Al Green - Greatest Hits'

If Al Green were starting out today, he'd be given some stupid name like AG or Greenback, or Money Man or some shit. Thankfully he started when he did and he's just Al Green.

445. New Fast Fucky - Soul Side from 'Soon - Come - Happy'

Sonically very interesting but the songs are just not quite as unique and memorable as the sound itself.

446. Neighborhood # 3 (Power Out) - Arcade Fire from 'Funeral'

I hope Paul Haggis brings these losers down too.

447. Come On Nature - The Proclaimers from 'Sunshine On Leith'

Ah, now that's a song, that's a band, these bespectacled geeks are MONSTERS. Song MONSTERS.

448. Dirt To Mud - Paul Westerberg from 'Stereo'

Speaking of monster, I'm working on a large post chronicling Paul Westerberg's solo career which has, to my mind, become far more interesting than that band he was in back in the day.

449. Crosseyed And Painless - Talking Heads from 'Sand In The Vaseline (Disc 1)'

Still not sure what all the fuss is about. It's very very good, don't get me wrong, and when I watch 'Stop Making Sense' it is clear that the live essence is monstrous but the catalog just leaves me a little flat.

450. Tell You Why Tomorrow - Husker Du from 'Warehouse: Songs And Stories'

The more I hear of Husker Du the more I think that if they'd actually gotten a real drummer and put Grant Hart out front with Bob Mould with an electric guitar they would have been UNSTOPPABLE. His drumming is just not good. The sound on it is muffled, there is no definition to it, it drags the songs down. I know this is a kind of blasphemy but I gotta say it. His songs? Top notch. His singing? Heartbreaking. His drumming? Amateur hour.

451. Give Judy My Notice - Ben Folds from 'Songs For Silverman'

Thank you Ben for taking my heart out of my chest, slicing it up into a million crying pieces, dicing it in a blender laced with acid, putting it in a beautiful martini glass and somehow making it taste like the greatest cocktail I've ever had.

452. (White Man) In Hammersmith Palais - The Clash from 'Story Of The Clash Volume 1 (Disc 2)'

The Clash.

453. Bad Boy - Backbeat Band from 'Backbeat Original Soundtrack'

Almost the Beatles.

454. Drink Deep - Rites Of Spring from 'End On End'

They were really onto something. There is some indescribable element of release and emotional output that Rites Of Spring dove after and achieved. I couldn't hum a song but whenever they come on it is almost embarrassing, like reading someone's diary.

455. Rite Of Passage - Onion from 'Beauty Is Ordinary'

Good tune.

456. Street Spirit (Fade Out) - Radiohead from 'The Bends'

Before they were great.

457. Born To Run - Bruce Springsteen from 'Born To Run'

Sometimes I can't help it and he just makes me roll my eyes. I like him when he isn't so sure of himself.

458. You're A Soldier - Husker Du from 'Warehouse: Songs And Stories'

Again with the subpar drumming.

459. Under The Cherry Moon - Prince from 'Parade'

This is perhaps the most sophisticated pop album ever made. It is a highlight of human creation.

460. Trans Am - Neil Young & Crazy Horse from 'Sleeps With Angels'

A whole album in response to being tagged in Cobain's suicide note, this one equates a failing muscle car with the American dream. Genius.

461. Get The Fuck Outta Dodge - Public Enemy from 'Apocalypse 91...The Enemy Strikes Black'

Yes sir.

462. Bookmark - Paul Westerberg from 'Suicaine Gratifaction'

Um, if anyone else recorded this it would merit a whole section in the massively watched documentary made about them by Ken Burns.

463. Steady Diet - Fugazi from 'Steady Diet Of Nothing'

464. Long Division - Fugazi from 'Steady Diet Of Nothing'

Two in a row from what I consider to be a classic. Not even Fugazi fans agree with me and I love that.

465. Ain't So Easy - David & David from 'Welcome To The Boomtown'

No, it ain't. Now that I've been in the Boomtown for almost 10 years, no, it ain't easy.

466. Ikebana - Kevin Shields from 'Lost In Translation'

Huh?

467. Mt. Pleasant - The Evens from 'The Evens'

The follow up to Fugazi with Ian and his wife making music on a smaller scale. Endearing but not all that engaging.

468. Accidents Will Happen - Elvis Costello & The Attractions from 'Armed Forces (Bonus Tracks)'

When you hear the tracks of his that didn't get chosen you start to get a sense that this guy will never be properly appreciated.

469. Morning Bell - Radiohead from 'Kid A'

Ouch. This one hurts very deeply.

470. Eyes Like Sparks - Grandpaboy from 'Mono'

One line. One guy in a basement. Again, come back for my monster post about Paul Westerberg and his various aliases.

471. Airline To Heaven - Billy Bragg & Wilco from 'Mermaid Avenue, Vol. 2'

Only interesting not transcendent like everything on Vol. 1.

472. Tonight The Heartache's On Me - Dixie Chicks from 'Wide Open Spaces'

Great.

473. My Bionic Eyes - Liz Phair from 'Liz Phair'

Hot.

474. 37 Yeti - Pimp Fu from 'Coffee, Pot'

So funny. There is actually a yeti making noise in this sound. Not sure how he recorded a Yeti in our Brooklyn basement in the summer.

475. Man In Need - Richard & Linda Thompson from 'Shoot Out The Lights'

Way underrated even if it is on all the best all time lists.

476. Girl You Have No Faith In Medicine - The White Stripes from 'Elephant'

Boy I Do Not Care About This Band.

477. Bobo In The Corner - The Beastie Boys from 'Ill Communication'

There were a few years there when these guys could do no wrong.

478. Dachau Blues - Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band from 'Trout Mask Replica'

I remember reading Rolling Stone's list of the top 100 albums of all time when I was in high school. I was shocked that I had never even heard of a few of them. This was one of them. So later when Columbia Records And Tapes was emptying out their vaults and basically destroying the record business without even knowing it, I picked this disc up. Colossally strange and amazing. This song in particular is deeply disturbing.

479. Kooks - David Bowie from 'Bowie At The Beeb (Disc 1)'

Twee.

480. Ed's Song - Emmitt Swimming from 'Wake'

Thank you, Justin.

481. Closing Time - Lyle Lovett from 'Lyle Lovett'

Before I stopped caring.

482. Nocturne No. 1 - Joe Jackson from 'Night Music'

Very sophisticated and suave.

483. Alligator Wine - Screamin' Jay Hawkins from 'Voodoo Jive: The Best Of Screamin' Jay Hawkins'

Bonkers. Truly bonkers.

484. Let's Pretend We're Married - Prince from '1999'

Sometimes Prince lets you into his thinking and he reminds you that teenage boys have NO IDEA what women like.

485. Summer's Cauldron - XTC from 'Skylarking'

This is one of those perfect albums and this is a highlight. Apparently they hated Todd Rundgren but, guys, the proof is in the pudding. Everyone agrees this is your best album ever. Put your pride down and give the man some props.

486. There's No Home For You Here - The White Stripes from 'Elephant'

There's No Song For Me Here.

487. The Ultimate Shit - Pimp Fu from 'Raw Fushi...t'

Indeed.

488. I Took A Trip On A Gemini Spaceship - David Bowie from 'Heathen'

To hear the change from the Bowie-Live-At-The-Beeb Bowie to this Bowie is simply astonishing. This isn't even a highly regarded album of his but man, I love it.

489. Mesmerizing - Liz Phair from 'Exile In Guyville'

Yes, yes, Liz, yes, you are.

490. Big City After Dark - Link Wray from 'Rumble! The Best Of Link Wray'

Every one of these songs is like a soundtrack to one of those propaganda films they used to show in the '50's to scare teenagers into staying straight, not putting each other's private parts together, and combing and cutting their hair on a regular basis. When they hear just a snatch of Link Wray they go INSANE.

491. The Max - Prince & The New Power Generation from 'O(+>'

Sing it Purple Yoda.

492. Ipanema Girl - Dirty Worxxx from 'The New Brazilian Sound'

Slinky.

493. I Got The Feelin' - James Brown from '20 All Time Greatest Hits!'

I do too, James. I do too.

494. This Bitter Earth - Banderas from 'Postcards From America'

Whatevs.

495. Body Of Water - Billy Bragg from 'Don't Try This At Home'

The more I hear this album the less I like it. Sorry Billy.

496. King Of The Mountain - Midnight Oil from 'Blue Sky Mining'

GREAT SONG.

497. Computer Blue - Prince from 'Purple Rain'

MORE GREAT SONG. NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS!

498. You Shook Me All Night Long - AC/DC from 'Back In Black'

It's like this band embodies some vast plain of rock, they are Gods of the rocky plain which stretches in all directions and is empty and vast but somehow peopled by screaming headbangers.

499. Crows In The Wheatfield - Del Amitri from 'Del Amitri'

Ah Del Amitri. You should have really made it. Like last forever made it.

500. You're Getting To Be A Habit With Me - Diana Krall from 'Love Scenes'

Every time I hear this bitch open her mouth I picture her standing two inches away from a mirror staring at herself and blowing herself kisses. I can hear the acceptance speeches in her singing. GET OVER YOURSELF.

501. Ding Da Ding Ding - Pimp Fu from 'First Press'

Creepy and silent.

502. Bedlam Bridge - Midnight Oil from 'Blue Sky Mining'

More greatness from these down under geeks.

503. Bananeira - Bebel Gilberto from 'Tanto Tiempo'

Sexy!!! Did I say that about Bebel already? Sexy music.

504. Hair Pie: Bake 2 - Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band from 'Trout Mask Replica'

More absolute conundrums from Van Vliet & Co.

505. Plastic & Concrete - Iggy Pop from 'American Caesar'

Hey Grandpa, take a nap.

506. Betcha By Golly Wow! - The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 1)'

This album was the beginning of the new beginning of the end of the beginning of the end for the guy who used to be Prince and then was a symbol and then was formerly known as but soon would be back to being Prince. And it is great.

507. Shooting Dirty Pool - The Replacements from 'Pleased To Meet Me'

This is one that all Replacements fans seem to agree is a clunker but I love it. It is dirty and a gamble just like the title suggests.

508. Safety Dance - Jaymz Bee's Royal Jelly Orchestra from 'Cocktail: Shakin' And Stirred'

Sometimes I want to hear kitsch. Other times I don't.

509. Politik - Coldplay from 'A Rush of Blood To The Head'

Don't get me wrong, I like these guys. But I get the impression that they try to come up with weighty complex sounding titles (i.e. Politik) for songs that ought to be named "Gosh, I Miss Her" or "I Really Miss Her" or "Today I Thought I'd Miss Her But I'm Thinking About You Instead - What Do You Think That Means?"

510. A Tous Les Enfants - Joan Baez from 'Boris Vian Et Ses Interpretes'

Ever since watching the Bob Dylan documentary I can't help but feel my hackles rise whenever I hear this self-important blowhard open her mouth. You really thought you and Bob Dylan could CHANGE the world? And you were disappointed that all he wanted to do was MAKE GREAT MUSIC??? No wonder he left your boring ass.

511. Chloroform - Jack Logan from 'Bulk (Disc 1)'

More greatness from our Refrigerator Mechanic Laureate.

512. Belladonna - Ebatule from 'The New Brazilian Sound'

Okay, getting tired of slinky sexy South American music which is ironic because I'm going to Bogota, Colombia tomorrow!

513. Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival from 'Chronicle, Vol. 1'

Cousins Liam, Mike and I recently decided that CCR is the only appropriate choice for greatest American rock band of all time.

514. Between Love & Like - Grandpaboy from 'Mono'

Massive Westerberg post coming...

515. Warm Fuzzy Feeling - Fastball from 'All The Pain Money Can Buy'

This one falls flat, guys, sorry.

516. Imagination - The Rolling Stones from 'Some Girls'

This album is out of control.

517. Dolphin - The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from 'The Gold Experience'

Hey, Prince, you know what? Why don't you go on national TV and show us your assless chaps?

518. Picture In A Frame - Tom Waits from 'Mule Variations'

Great ballad.

519. All The Critics Love U In New York - Prince from '1999'

Why this song works so well I'll never know.

520. Someday After A While - Eric Clapton from 'From The Cradle'

Snooze.

521. Slap Me On The Ass - Pimp Fu from 'Raw Fushi...t'

Hilarious. Will someone let him slap them on the ass already?

522. Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be - AC/DC from 'If You Want Blood You've Got It (Live)'

No it ain't.

523. Makin' Whoopee - Frank Sinatra from 'Songs For Swingin' Lovers'

Again, a cut from perhaps the first concept album.

524. Frozen Lake - Buffalo Tom from 'Let Me Come Over'

This album is the perfect line between their acoustic flavored last few albums and the distorted fuzz rock of their first few. Great album.

525. When The Whip Comes Down - The Rolling Stones from 'Some Girls'

Awwwshit.

526. Boom Boom - John Lee Hooker from 'Very Best Of'

Awwwshitagain.

527. About A Girl - Nirvana from 'Bleach'

Man, you can really hear the impending departure of this lame drummer.

528. So What - John Cale from 'Walking On Locusts'

So what indeed, John. Don't name your song 'So What' unless you want someone to say so what about it.

529. Shambala - The Beastie Boys from 'Ill Communication'

The mystical lost city...which people are currently chasing in Thomas Pynchon's 'Against The Day' which I am re-reading...

530. We March - The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from 'The Gold Experience'

Oh, so the assless chap reveal wasn't enough now you think you are gonna get political on us? We March? About what? Your right to wear pants that have no ass on them?

531. Everyone Says "Hi" - David Bowie from 'Heathen'

Haunting.

532. Tell Kim I Said Hi - Elemenopy from 'Sgt. Walrus's Westward Journey - Volume 1'

Weird, first David Bowie says that everyone says hi and then these kooks are asking us to say hi for them. Patterns abound.

533. Complexity - The Roots from 'Phrenology'

How crazy is it that The Roots are on national TV every night with Fallon? I still get happy about that...

534. Bullroarer - Midnight Oil from 'Diesel And Dust'

Outrage and melody.

535. What You Want - Pimp Fu from 'Shocker'

I want more Pimp Fu music.

536. Cheap Reward - Elvis Costello from 'My Aim Is True'

Little known gem.

537. Bed Of Nails - Husker Du from 'Warehouse: Songs And Stories'

BAD DRUMMING.

538. Mary - Sublime from 'Robbin' The Hood'

When you are all strung out you have no standards. You can obviously still have talent but you just don't know what is good anymore.

539. How High The Moon Ella Fitzgerald from 'The Very Best Of Ella (Disc 1)'

After listening to Diana "I LOVE MYSELF" Krall, it is nice to hear a master. Although I can't hear two and a half minutes of scat singing with all the "dwi-bi-dooop-bwadda-mipmip-zuangalooooooooo". Like, sing the fucking words already.

540. Ngicueala - Es Una Historia - I Am Singing - Stevie Wonder from 'Songs In The Key Of Life (Disc 2)'

Bored.

541. Mountains Of Your Head - Buffalo Tom from 'Let Me Come Over'

Good but still bored.

542. Mansion On The Hill - Neil Young & Crazy Horse from 'Ragged Glory'

Oh man, this is the sound of a bunch of killer musicians out in the middle of nowhere in a big barn with every piece of equipment that they need and boatloads of inspiration and fury.

543. I Got You (I Feel Good) - James Brown from '20 All Time Greatest Hits!'

You forget about him until he starts singing and then you realize that he is still better than everybody else.

544. Neon Meate Dream Of A Octafish - Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band from 'Trout Mask Replica'

What is with the Beefheart???

545. My Friend Of Misery - Metallica from 'Black Album'

His lyrics can be blush-inducing. Honestly. Terrible lyrics. Great song, though.

546. All Apologies - Nirvana from 'MTV Unplugged In New York'

Can you believe that MTV once had the clout to get their name on Nirvana's latest album? Can you imagine that happening today??? Lady Gaga's MTV Unplugged? NEVER WOULD HAPPEN.

547. Unwashed And Somewhat Slightly Dazed - David Bowie from 'Bowie At The Beeb (Disc 1)'

Go fuck yourself Bowie.

548. Taillights Fade - Buffalo Tom from 'Let Me Come Over'

This song is my 20's.

Okay. Thank god that's over. I'll be back in a week or so from Bogota!

Turning Points, Pointing Turns

2011-01-14T09:43:00.001-08:00

There comes a moment after you've been working out for an extended period of time. On some uncertain day you realize that YOU are happening to the machines in the gym, not the other way around. What starts out as submission and acquiescence slowly and subtly transforms into power and execution.

A similar process occurs when you attack the aspects of your psyche that plague you. For what seems like eons you chip away at this formless barrier that traps you in unsatisfying poses. Then one day a tiny piece of marble drops off of the sculpture and a brand new pose is struck, an intended one, one that accurately expresses something instead of being the result of suppression.

So here I am with both physical and mental moments like I've just described happening. The best part about it is that these things only increase my motivation to keep my nose to the grindstone, to keep holding myself to these new standards that are rewarding me in so many ways.

387. Sunken Treasure - Wilco from 'Being There (Disc 2)'

Wilco stretch it out here and even though I keep having these knee-jerk "someone send Jeff Tweedy a psychic alarm clock and tell him to wake the hell up and get excited" responses, I also cannot deny that Wilco are in many ways without equal. I go through these phases where I reject work from artists I love and then have to double back and reassess my positions. Lately when I hear Wilco I am finding myself feeling like I have to write Mr. Tweedy and apologize to him for continuing to ask him to wake up. Maybe sleepy is where his genius lies.

388. Two-Headed Boy Part 2 - Neutral Milk Hotel from 'In The Aeroplane Over The Sea'

Speaking of genius, this album is a stunner. I keep forgetting that I have to buy everything that Neutral Milk Hotel has ever put out. Also to research them and find out who the hell they are because I came late to the party and only know the sound of these songs. They could be from Tunisia for all I know. Maybe it should stay that way.

389. The Nang, The Front, The Bush And The Shit - El-P from 'Fantastic Damage'

El-P is one of those pioneers who blazes a trail so unique to himself that it seems to grow over right behind him as he makes his way through the jungle. Hip-hop, yes. But El-P is to hip-hop as Chuck Pahlaniuk is to nursery rhymes or something. I don't know, this music is so relentlessly abrasive and gnarly that El-P to me has more in common with absurdist punk rock than he does with hip-hop. Let's put it this way. No one's really dancing to this stuff.

390. Here I Am (Come And Take Me) - Al Green from 'Al Green - Greatest Hits'

Al is just about to give all this up for the Lord. At least for a little while.

391. Turn Me Loose - Jaymz Bee's Royal Jelly Orchestra from 'Cocktail: Shakin' And Stirred'

This is my favorite track on this silly album. This colossally stupid song is given fantastic new life by the overblown lounge singer aesthetic and crack 10-piece band. You can hear the old rich white people eating filet mignon and bobbing their steak knives along with that beat, thinking that they are really cuttin' loose, can you dig? This is a supper club I never want to attend but I am so grateful to Jaymz Bee's for giving me a secret glimpse into this plastic little universe.

392. Broken Chairs - Built To Spill from 'Keep It Like A Secret'

Are secrets secrets if they are boring? Like, I'm going to keep a secret that I have an old Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf receipt in my wallet. Don't tell anyone! WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TELL ANYONE??? These guys are flat out boring.

393. Just A Few Words - Patty Larkin from 'Regrooving The Dream'

Patty Larkin reminds me of a movie that is on the cusp of greatness but some small element holds it back JUST short of that line. Still very very good but somehow I find myself comparing her songs against some imaginary track she has cut that is better, that is truly great.

394. Chemical Cosh - The Fatima Mansions from 'Viva Dead Ponies (US Version)'

Have I mentioned that this obscure album is one of the greatest of all time? Does that freak you out the way it freaks me out? That something so transcendent and perfect could simply be lost in the shuffle, relegated to used CD bins and yard sales. I will spend the rest of my life championing this work. If you can, track it down and buy it.

395. Efil's God - Ells from 'Electro-Shock Blues'

GET OVER YOURSELF.

396. Bluer Pastures - Dolly Parton from 'Little Sparrow'

Masterful. Simply perfect. I know there are people out there who have no idea that Dolly Parton is an all-time great. They need to get with the program.

397. Peaceful World - John Mellencamp from 'The Concert For New York (Disc 2)'

I get very uncomfortable listening to this album. I simply cannot help feeling vaguely disturbed at the collective energy going on. I do not mean to imply that there was anything untoward or misguided going on at this concert which gave a very injured city a giant emotional boost. But that very power is difficult to assimilate. It's like trying to feel good about lightning.

398. Last Year's Man - Leonard Cohen from 'The Best Of'

I do not know how he squeezes so much interest and drama out of three chords and a croak. But man, he pulls it off.

399. Built This Road - The Bennett Cale Project from 'Goodbye Kirkwood Drive'

This is a sweet love song from a friend of mine. Gorgeous acoustic guitar, a gently building melody...really pretty music.

400. Damn U - Prince & The New Power Generation from 'O(+>'

This is a fantastic song from a fantastic album. Prince has had so many eras in which he achieved distinct moments of pop culture domination. Who could forget the ass-less pants?

401. Georgia Lee - Tom Waits from 'Mule Variations'

Much like Wilco, I am finding myself continually having to re-evaluate my stated aversion to Mr. Waits. This is a heartbreak of a song with understated production and straightforward singing. Clearly a personal song, not clouded up by Waits layering in circus references or three-pack a day growling. Beautiful and haunting.

402. I Love Lucy (I'm The Piltdown Man) - Jesse Grieves from 'Colonial Box'

I can't remember the day Justin first played me this song but I'm pretty sure it was out on the turf farm that lay adjacent to his back yard. No one but Justin writes songs like this. Hilarious and disturbing at the same time.

403. Gassed & Stoked - Lou Reed from 'Magic & Loss'

I am neither, Lou. I am neither 'gassed' nor 'stoked' about you or your songs. There might be some 'loss' going on here but there is very little 'magic'. I wish I'd never bought this stupid album. I can barely tolerate you in Velvet Underground who I love so I have no idea why I took a flier on this collection. GET OVER YOURSELF. You and Eels can both GET OVER YOURSELVES.

404. Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of) - The Mars Volta from 'De-Loused In The Comatorium'

Holy shit these guys are on another plane. Listening to them is like being in some kind of maaster class...more like studying than rocking out. But then they go on these runs that are so magnificent that you let yourself get swept up in it. They defy classification, they strive for a kind of epic inexplicable dread. And they reach it.

405. The Mission - Jaylib from 'DJ Jazzy Jeff And Peanut Butter Wolf...'

I'm sorry, were you playing music? I zoned out there.

406. Good Bye, New York - Brendan O'Malley from 'Post Nuclear Live At Genghis Cohen'

I am embarrassed by this collection of recordings from a show I gave at Genghis Cohen. I still needed to have the epiphanies I described in opening this post and my performance is an odd mix of over-emoting and underplaying. Sorry, world. I'm much better now.

407. Philosophy - Ben Folds from 'Ben Folds Five'

Just great. Jean and I spent some time driving around the last time I was in Rhode Island listening to his collaboration with various vocal groups who recorded a cappella versions of his songs. Fantastic. I still remember hearing this album and being so glad that someone was finally playing the damn piano again.

408. I've Just Seen A Face - The Beatles from 'Help!'

Wow. It's amazing how you can forget these guys.

409. You Can't Kill Michael Molloy - Primus from 'Frizzle Fry'

Um, I think you can. Let me check. Yes, you CAN kill Michael Molloy. You do it with the "skip" button.

410. Shutup - The Replacements from 'Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out The Trash'

Breathtaking. I have major regret that I did not get to see the original lineup of this band in action. I was simply too young. Even if I'd heard of them on their first few tours I wouldn't have been able to get into the clubs to see them. I have to content myself with old youtube videos. They are a ROCKET.

411. I Keep Coming Back - The Afghan Whigs from 'Gentlemen'

This whole album feels like listening to a primly drunk egotist brag about the women he fucked and left. It is an honest exploration of that side of male sexuality and it is unrelentingly brutal. A perfect work of art that is very hard to swallow.

412. Sunny - Stevie Wonder from 'For Once In My Life/Uptight'

The polar opposite of The Afghan Whigs! Beautiful open expressive music.

413. Ms. Jackson - Outkast from 'Big Boi & Dre Present...Outkast'

I wonder whether Ms. Jackson ever forgave Andre. I mean, Erykah Badu is a loon. Does her mother know how difficult that woman is to deal with? She's talented and gorgeous, yes, but bitch is crazy.

414. Brain Stew - Green Day from 'Insomniac'

A hot mess.

415. E-Mac (Interlude) - Big Boi from 'Speakerboxxx'

Even Big Boi's spoken word is produced well.

416. Nudes - Rites Of Spring from 'End On End'

This band perfected a kind of naked expression, ably described in the song title. Somehow the sum is vastly greater than the parts and this simple rock format is transformed into something fragile and strange, hovering in that space between tears and begging that we have all been reduced to by heartbreak. I don't know how they do it. I usually can spot the gears in rock bands, can identify the levers they are pulling to make the effect they are after. But with Rites Of Spring it is magic. It's just magic.

417. She - Green Day from 'Dookie'

Monster hit. Great song. It's like eating just the right size dessert. It doesn't last long, when it's over you are sure you could eat some more, but you are completely satisfied.

418. An Exquisite Corpse - John Cameron Mitchell from 'Hedwig And The Angry Inch OST'

Every moment on this soundtrack is great. I just don't understand how John Cameron Mitchell expects me to take Nicole Kidman seriously in 'Rabbit Hole' as nothing on her face cries except her eyes.

419. Save Me - Queen from 'Greatest Hits'

Oh, Freddie, I wish I could. To have you out there still making music? What a gift that would be. Let me look into it because if I can figure out a way to save you, I'm going to do it. I know the band would be psyched. They've had to be out on tour with Paul Rodgers, who is fine, don't get me wrong, but there is only one Freddie. You know that. So, yeah, I will try and save you.

420. Do You Feel Loved - U2 from 'Pop'

Actually, yes, I do! And I hope you do too U2 because I am the only one who likes this album. It is also the moment that I realized I didn't have to pay attention to you guys anymore. I'm done with you but that shouldn't make you feel bad. I know you are still making great music, I just don't care about it.

421. Jam Of The Year - The Artist Formerly Known As Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 1)'

Everybody's here! This is the jam of the year!

Stepping Up My Game

2011-01-12T09:31:00.000-08:00

I have been on a slow long road of transformation, one so long and so slow that at times it doesn't feel as if anything is different. But it is very different. Very very different. When I try and put myself back where I was even a year ago it seems as if I'm watching a tense claustrophobic independent thriller, one where every step the protagonist takes is a choice between bad options, one where you simply wish that the character would just up and renounce everything at stake in the plot because the only hope is for them to pull a caterpillar to butterfly transformation.

Well, I don't have wings yet but I have certainly woven the cocoon.

367. Readin', Rightin', Rt. 23 - Dwight Yoakam from 'dwightyoakamacoustic.net'

Some day I'm going to meet this guy and tell him (as if he doesn't already know) that he is one of the all-time greats in any genre. He is very interesting to me because he is a GIANT star and yet totally under the radar at the same time. Damn, I love this dude.

368. You're Gonna Hear Brendan - Pimp Fu from 'Who Knows'

Crazy sound collage from Cousin Timothy in which he calls me from a family reunion and records his end of the conversation, passing me off to his sister Marianne. They are all lit and want me to yell so I can be heard on the recording but I think Cashel was asleep so I had to be quiet! Hilarious.

369. Romeo And Juliet - Dire Straits from 'Money For Nothing'

I think someone should do a documentary about Dire Straits and MTV. Because something weird happened back there in which a writer PERFECTLY captured a moment with a song and a period in time. And then he exploded. He then seemed totally uninterested in keeping up that level of exposure. Which is kind of amazing when you think about it. He courted anonymity and a smallness of career instead of continually trying to polish and expand the brass ring he'd already grasped. And man, what a guitar player. Understated but one of the guitar gods.

370. What's The Difference - Dr. Dre from '2001 (Instrumental)'

I simply cannot overstate how much I love this album. But I am itching to hear the rapping because it is equally good. Dr. Dre is one of those giants that is easy to forget about because he sort of hangs back, even on his own albums. But make no mistake, this guy is his generation's version of Quincy Jones. A brilliant MUSICIAN.

371. Shitloads Of Money - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

I laughed to myself on the elliptical machine sweating like a mad man because she is so right. "It's nice to be liked/But it's better by far to get paid". Leave it to Liz Phair to cut through the indie rock low-budget-money-isn't-important-to-us-pose.

372. Bobby Peru - Luna from 'Pup Tent'

This is a chilling little ditty in which a guy sings about his recently deceased girlfriend and you mildly suspect that he might have killed her and claimed it was a suicide. Even if the suicide is real it is chilling because he is only concerned with how it has affected him. Phenomenally creepy little tune.

373. Avant Nous - Edith Piaf from 'The Very Best Of Edith Piaf'

Oh, bonjour, Edith, vous etes une chanteuse extraordinaire. De temps en temps, c'est possible d'oublier vos talents. Bravo!

374. Free Fallin' - Tom Petty from 'Full Moon Fever'

I was a huge Tom Petty fan when this album came out and I didn't like the production on it. Jeff Lynne of ELO produced it and it is slicker than slick, drums are round and deep, the bass is like a black marble floor, and the chiming acoustic guitars took away all the rough swamp grit of Petty's earlier works.

Now? It blows me away. Lynne saw something in Petty, some pop sheen that could be taken to the hilt. Surrounding that idiosyncratic voice with such lushness only further delineates the personality. Great work.

375. Slow Like Honey - Fiona Apple from 'Tidal'

Fiona Apple was a star from the moment she appeared. That is such a rare thing. When you consider all of her imitators who have come and gone in flashes (Natalie Imbruglia??? Vanessa Carlton???), the solidity of her presence out of the gate is rather astonishing. There was no long period like Tori Amos went through before finding her way (and Apple has Amos to thank for a lot more than that...). Nope. Fiona dropped this album and was instantly in the pantheon. Amazing.

376. Big Tall Man - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

By contrast, Liz Phair has never had that kind of cultural stability to rest upon. In fact, most folks don't even know who she is even though she is one of the most important singer/songwriters of the past thirty years. Weird. She and Paul Westerberg should do a tour together.

377. You Should Be High - Low Light Supercharger from 'Umpg Presents Res Freq Recordings'

This is just fine, this punk drag race of a song. There is a breakdown where a wah-wah pedaled guitar kicks in, though, and the solo is so basic and boring that I actually felt like I could have done a better job. And that means it is a BAD SOLO.

378. Intro - Jazzy Jeff's BBE Mix from 'DJ Jazzy Jeff and Peanut Butter Wolf...'

Less than a minute of noise.

379. Dolores - The Miles Davis Quintet from 'Miles Smiles'

What can you say about Miles Davis? I was basically an anti-jazz activist until I heard 'Sketches Of Spain' and then a whole universe opened up to me. I felt like an old racist who has had to come to terms with his bigotry and now cries with joy at being able to accept a whole beautiful aspect of humanity that I'd previously derided. Thank you, Miles, for showing me the light.

380. Run For Your Life - Jarvis Church from 'The Biggest Ragga Dancehall Anthems'

Melody and I went to St. John's and spent a few days lounging on a tropical beach. We wandered the streets of the island town, watched an amateur baseball game that had to be canceled because the lights went out, shot pool in a hut and listened to ragga on the jukebox. So when I came across this compilation of ragga anthems I was totally transported back to that magical trip.

381. Don't Wanna Know - The Refreshments from 'Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy'

One of my favorite albums of all time. I know it by heart. I LOVE THIS ALBUM.

382. Napoleon - Ani DiFranco from 'Dilate'

I am now in a phase where I respond to Ani DiFranco in the way I imagine beleaguered fathers of goth thirteen year old girls respond to the over-dramatic response that they have to their lives. "Yep, your teacher does deserve to be burned in a pit of oil, dear, but you still have to do your homework." "Yes, dear, I know your friends are all minions of Satan and the world is a sad and sorry spectacle but we still have to go to your Grandmother's house for dinner."

383. Ex-Spectator - Fugazi from 'The Argument'

Integrity all the way down the line. These guys spent fifteen years honing and expanding their sound, dropped a perfect album, and called it quits. The Jim Brown of punk rock.

384. Portable Men's Society - Guided By Voices from 'Mag Earwhig!'

Most GBV fans dismiss this album almost out of hand. They might tolerate it but they certainly don't love it. Somehow it hit me at just the right time and went about as deep for me as you can go. I always wanted to be part of the Portable Men's Society, whatever it was. I think I'll join...

385. Pembroke - Soul Side from 'Soon - Come - Happy'

Mediocre. These guys were waiting to break up so that Fugazi could be born. They had some interesting things happening sonically but the songs themselves are forgettable.

386. My Wife - The Who from 'Who's Next'

Whenever Townsend and Daltrey give Entwhistle the keys he comes up with some bit of weirdness that doesn't really fit or work. Clearly a musical genius but it just goes to show you that proficiency does not equal inspiration or songwriting chops.

Still weaving that cocoon. It'll be fun to fly.

Tight Rope Straight Dope

2011-01-11T08:57:00.000-08:00

354. The Supermen - David Bowie from 'Bowie At The Beeb (Disc 2)'

Hallo, me name is David Bawie and Oi've jus' come from the fairy fields of Dova, running ova dell and dale to tell me tale of woe and stroife...

Good lord he was insufferable before he was great.

355. Satan Is Real - The Louvin Brothers from 'Satan Is Real'

I've written about this album here. What is amazing to me about this song in particular is that it is so simple. A man stands up in a church and reminds the preacher to stress that Satan is real. And that in a nutshell is the impetus behind the album itself. Yo, world, don't forget about Ol' Scratch.

356. Girls Room - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

I make Melody re-enact a scene from her adolescence over and over again. She is at a sleepover and the girls all begin a "game" whereby they would go around the room and say one thing they like about a person and one thing they DON'T like. The hair pulling that results is high comedy in the hands of Ms. Garren.

This song is the non comic version of that demonstration and it makes me happy I am male. If I'd had to deal with this kind of emotional subterfuge I would have been jailed for murder before I was eight.

357. Baroque - Apples In Stereo from 'Velocity Of Sound'

I have no memory of listening to this song. But that isn't surprising because I never know that it is an Apples In Stereo song until I look at the iPod.

358. Perforation Problems - Iggy Pop from 'American Caesar'

I wish I COULD forget this song. This whole album is immaculately played and produced and utterly devoid of personality. Iggy tries to superimpose his twisted sense of self-drama over the top of it but it ultimately winds up being like someone taking karaoke too seriously.

359. Walking After You - Foo Fighters from 'The Colour And The Shape'

And Brendan gets kicked in the gut by Dave Grohl. This album is like a permanent wound in my psyche that will never heal. I forget it is there and then the music starts and I am completely transported. I have not kept up with Foo Fighters output at ALL because this album is so satisfying to me. Usually when I love an album it draws me in as a fan to the rest of the oeuvre. But here? This one's all I need.

360. Tomorrow Night - Elvis Presley from 'The Sun Sessions CD'

I love picturing this scrawny kid angled in front of a microphone before anyone knew who he was. Strumming a guitar and singing along with a band. Just a guy who could sing and play. And boy could he sing and play. He could have been intimidated by the prowess of these sessions guys who showed up at Sun Records to record with him. Who the hell was he? But boom. It is so real.

If your image of Elvis has anything to do with a white suit, flower necklaces, or karate moves...do yourself a favor and check out 'The Sun Sessions CD'. You will not believe your ears.

361. The Christian Life - The Louvin Brothers from 'Satan Is Real'

It is a testament to their singing and playing that this song is not downright offensive. Because they are basically telling me (an avid listener) that I am going to Hell and that they pity me my black blasphemous heart.

Fuck you too, you two. But great song.

362. Out Of Your Life - Bob Mould from 'Black Sheets Of Rain'

Bob Mould's first solo album was a breakthrough and still one of my favorite albums of all time. Epic acoustic strumming, obtuse lyrics, think XTC 'Skylarking' meets Richard Thompson. I felt as if he was on the verge of becoming the next important recording artist/guitar hero. He'd honed the punk bombast into something gorgeous and heartbreaking.

This album? It's got great songs, great production...this song in particular is a killer pop/punk rager. But Mould only cut this electric style because he felt as if people didn't respond with enough enthusiasm for the new sound he'd pioneered on the first solo album. There is a "Whatever, I'll Give You Losers What You Want" vibe going on here and since I was NOT one of those people, I felt like the kid sitting at his desk being yelled at because someone was absent. Like, why are you pissed off at me? I'm HERE.

363. What Doesn't Belong To Me - Sinead O'Connor from 'Faith And Courage'

Rather forgettable. Which for Sinead is rare. Usually I resist her because she's gone so far off the deep end it is hard to even think of her as an artist. And then she just bowls you over with something. But not this.

364. Fiddle-Tune Medley - Doc Watson & David Grisman from 'Doc & Dawg'

Hillbilly guitar heroes.

365. Say What You Say - Eminem from 'The Eminem Show'

Such exciting music. I have to get his latest because whenever I hear that 'Recovery' song I am very moved.

366. I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra from 'Sings The Select Cole Porter'

Sheer perfection.

I do not feel too loquacious today. Waiting to hear about a couple of crucial details.

I Came To Play

2011-01-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

I have never shied away from the side of show business that is competitive and cut throat. I have little compassion for people who go into this field expecting things to turn out the way they wanted and then turn bitter when the opposite happens. I grew up obsessed with sports, with winning, with the very act of competition. It is invigorating to me.

Of course, I am not immune to that kind of bitterness. It is something that ate away at the fabric of my life for a long time. The external reality of my career did not match my sense of my own talent. This juxtaposition, like a fractured bone, caused me to become off-kilter, out of balance, and less capable of action when necessary.

A few things allowed me to heal (or, I should say, continue to heal because some injuries are permanent and cannot ever be allowed to fester). First and foremost, the love of Melody and my family was like a constant salt water wash, attacking that infected area. Without those people I wouldn't care if I were successful or not. With them I can bear anything.

But right behind those people, in a close second, comes The Workshop With Jeffrey Tambor. I came to this class just as these things that plagued me were coming to a head. My father was on his way out of this world, I was angrier than I'd ever been which is saying a lot, and I was not in control of my own creative destiny.

Tambor changed all that with one pointed finger.

I brought a Shakespeare monologue in for my first time going up onstage. I did a capable job with Edmund from King Lear. Mr. Tambor then asked me a few pointed questions. He then got up on stage and asked me to do the monologue again.

As I did so, he literally poked me in the back, pushing me forward. I had to keep moving to adjust. It also immediately tapped into the well of anger that I was being crushed by but somehow pretending to ignore. Within a few seconds I was snarling the gnarled phrases and spitting them out as if they were bones inside a still-living carcass that I was devouring.

After prodding me on to this explosion, he looked out at the class and asked them what the difference was in the two performances. Uniformly what people noticed was that one was cerebral and well-executed but the second was unpredictable and impassioned. In short, MORE DRAMATIC.

This transformation was not the arrival for me, maybe there isn't an actual arrival, it was merely the jumping off point. I still had many months ahead of me where I refused to address my own attitudes. I was still exhibiting many of the same behaviors that were keeping me (Mr. Tambor's phrase, as in 'What's Keeping You?') trapped in the same old spot.

At this point I am not even concerned with how this affects any career I wish to have. What started that day for me was a slow dawning realization that I wasn't enjoying my life and it was my own damn fault. I don't know from God but even any theoretical divinity would insist upon some sense of gratitude and joy being at the center of your life.

So now that I've dispensed with my bullshit, now that I've agreed to keep shoveling it out of my way every single time I catch myself letting it pile up, now that I've embraced myself...

I came to play (a phrase I borrowed from my buddy Ben Barnes, another member of The Workshop). Thanks, Mr. Tambor. I owe you one.

Timothy's Car

2011-01-06T09:10:00.000-08:00

While Cousin Timothy aka Pimp Fu aka Poppa Foxtrot aka Jack Chassis aka Warp Speed-O is on the East Coast I will be driving his sick wheels. Which means that my iPod use will be limited to the gym on a daily basis. I may let these accumulate for a while and cover other topics in the meantime. We shall see.

Today's list covers my gym visit yesterday and the bus ride home.

330. Alalakay - Mamadou Diabate from 'Famous Shovels In Twain'

I'm all for listening to music from all over the world. But not this.

331. Ramp - Ms. Dynamite from 'A Little Deeper'

Good thing you can rhyme 'sex' with 'respect' and 'wreck' and 'check' or else Ms. Dynamite wouldn't have anything to say. This falls in a specific category of music that I do not relate to. The 'uplifting moral cheerleader' song. Basically, Ms. Dynamite is trying to convince all her female sisters that they do not have to settle for one night stands, that they deserve better, but if they do want to have one night stands, then at least respect themselves enough to use a condom and if the guy refuses to use a condom think about having AIDS and dying or getting chlamydia (yes, she uses the word in the song).

All of these sentiments are quite valid and hard to take issue with. But they just don't make for dramatic listening. Dr. Phil is interesting but I don't want to hear him rap.

332. Feeling Good - Nina Simone from 'Verve Unmixed'

Here we go. Nina shows Ms. Dynamite how it is done. When Nina sings it is as if she is opening a viewing door into her heart. There might be troublesome things in there (something Ms. Dynamite would exclude so as to have more clout as a self-help therapist) but she doesn't hide it. Her emotional presence is so vivid that it is almost uncomfortable, even if she is singing about feeling good. There is something unsettling about someone having a private moment so publicly. That is brave artistry, as opposed to Ms. Dynamite's pat sloganeering.

One of the all-time greats.

333. Lusty Scripps - Fugazi from 'Instrument Soundtrack'

I have yet to see this documentary, something I intend to remedy as soon as possible. Somehow the idea of being an accompaniment has freed Fugazi up to make some of the most playful music of their career. This song has no lyrics and it is funny. Not sure how they pull that off and if any of you are familiar with the Fugazi canon, humor does not play a large role in their aesthetic. This song makes me yearn for them to reunite and somehow embrace a wider audience in a reunion tour a la Pixies in 2004. I know it won't happen because they would never deal with the corporate entities necessary to pull off a tour of that scale but I think they should be in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame even though they would bitch-slap me for even putting them in the same sentence.

Another one of the all-time greats.

334. OK Song - Orson from 'Bright Idea'

Whenever these guys pop up on my iPod I wonder why they aren't bigger. They seem like a glam/Brit version of OK Go mixed with Robbie Williams or something. Just great songs which are produced extremely well, very creative arrangements and superb execution. I dig 'em.

335. Hang On To Your Ego - Frank Black from 'Frank Black'

Frank Black recorded this song before the Beach Boys retrospective came out and this version of the song was more a bootleg. It is a great cover. Every time I hear a Beach Boys cover I understand a little bit more about why they are and were The Beach Boys. I am not a huge fan. I enjoy their music but came of age just in time to hear 'Kokomo' on the radio and they just seemed like a joke. I've never been able to quite shake that perception even though I know intellectually that they are far more than that.

This song helps me appreciate the original more and that is, I think, the true test of a great cover.

336. There's A Place - The Beatles from 'Please Please Me'

I will scream with the teenagers of yore for these four lads.

337. Play The Game - Queen from 'Greatest Hits'

The other day in the car Cashel and I were listening to this album. Cashel said something to the effect that you wouldn't say Queen was deep because their music is so catchy to sing along to that you don't even notice if the subject matter is sad or troublesome. This song is a perfect example of that.

338. Jack The Ripper - Link Wray from 'Rumble! The Best Of Link Wray'

Link Wray invented distortion when he jammed a pencil into his speaker and liked the way the buzz sounded. Or something like that. I once played this to wake up Justin and his fiancee while they were sleeping and they reacted like Britain politicians did to the original Sex Pistols tour. This is not music for the faint of heart. It is raw and unadulterated. It sounds, in fact, like a rumble.

339. You Can't Always Get What You Want - The Rolling Stones from 'Hot Rocks, 1964-1971 (Disc 2)'

Listening to this song and trying to separate it from itself is impossible. I know that if I could erase its cultural cache from my brain I would probably be floored by it. But somehow it's like there was never a time when I didn't know it by heart. So its impact is somehow dulled. But, c'mon. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir??? And how the Stones just sort of creep up on you as those little blond boys sing??? Colossally creepy and moving. This song's reputation precedes itself and that is a shame.

340. Reconsider Baby - Eric Clapton from 'From The Cradle'

I have taken to bashing Eric Clapton here from time to time. Part of this comes from hearing Cream songs on a regular basis. I hate Cream. They stink. Bad singing, stupid lyrics, muddy production, they stink. And as I've improved (barely) as a guitar player, I am less impressed with Clapton as a player. Whereas the more I improve the MORE I'm impressed by Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, etc.

But I have to admit that this album has a very special place in my heart. I spent one last summer on the couch at my parents house. I was trying to get from Providence to New York and I'd stalled forty minutes down I-95 on familiar territory. I was working at the group homes and disintegrating following the break up with Maria.

I fell in with a few old high school friends who were also around and it felt strange to be hanging out in an apartment over Main Street right down the street from the high school. Two girls were sharing the apartment and I began dating one of them but was in such bad shape that I did not have much to offer. It was a very chaste union and went a long way towards healing some of the wounds that I'd been licking.

This was the summer that Jeff Buckley's 'Grace' came out and the four of us (the other girl was dating an old high school chum) would sit and sip wine, smoke pot, and listen to that album and Eric Clapton's 'From The Cradle'.

It had none of the flash of Clapton's 1970's stuff which I abhorred and was gritty and down to earth. To date it is the only Clapton album that I can really listen to and most of it has to do with the way the light hit the hardwood floor of that apartment. And with the sweet girl who was more a friend than anything else and turned an otherwise unbearable summer into a gentle adventure.

341. Things - Paul Westerberg from '14 Songs'

In this song he talks of things he can say, won't say, doesn't want to say, never will say. I'm going to paraphrase one of them. He admits one thing he will never tell her - that somewhere down the line she'll be a song he sings, a thing he gives away.

Brutal.

342. I'm Ready To Go Home - The Louvin Brothers from 'Satan Is Real'

Man these guys are killers. Killers. A fascinating story these two.

343. Leaving - Gregory Isaacs from 'Trojan Dub Box Set (Disc 3)'

Hot dub. Hot dub time machine.

344. Help Me I'm Hungry (Radio Appearance) - Nirvana from 'With The Lights Out (Disc 1)'

Not impressed with this one. I saw a photo of Courtney Love on her most recent tour and she looks like a reality show about plastic surgery. It made me angry with him for choosing her, for choosing hard drugs, for putting forth this image that was all about integrity and purity and then allowing himself to be co-opted by an attention whore media junkie. Imagine if he weren't dead. Would he be standing by her side supporting her latest breast implants? The dead fish Botox look? No. And that is the great shame. If he'd hooked up with some quiet wallflower who loved good books and hot tea on cold days he'd be cranking out masterpiece after masterpiece. Instead she hopped on like a fame leech and sucked him dry in front of our eyes. I hate her. But I love that Hole album with 'Malibu' on it so what can you do?

345. 20 Flight Rock - Backbeat Band from 'Backbeat Original Soundtrack'

I've written about this album before...a collection of punk and alternative superstar session players re-creating the meth frenzy and stripper ambiance that fueled The Beatles during their time in Hamburg, before they got Ringo, before they changed the world, when they were just four guys playing in seedy foreign bars for up to six hours at a time.

It was a stroke of genius to use punk players to catch this vibe. I highly recommend checking this album out. You will feel like a German businessman who stumbles into a strip club to see some titties in tassels and ends up seeing the future instead.

346. Good Day Sunshine - The Beatles from 'Revolver'

And now for the real thing! 'Revolver' finds The Beatles saying, "Um, hey, we can do ANYTHING WE WANT." Somehow it seems to me that this revelation had never before occurred to anyone in quite this way. And it was their grasp of that idea that makes them who they are. Their willingness to do anything. Rules? What rules?

347. Lick The Hare - Pimp Fu from 'Shocker'

Speaking of willing to do anything, Cousin Timothy, currently lending me his car, has put together one of the most good-spirited filthy albums ever. Someday you will hear it and know what I mean. Just look at the title of the song, folks. It's absurd.

348. For You - Prince from 'For You'

So this seventeen year old black kid from Minneapolis puts out an album in which he plays every single note. And on this song he uses only his voice in a strange a cappella cascade. Beautiful and weird, almost embarrassing, as if it is a diary entry or something.

349. Sinner's Prayer - Eric Clapton from 'From The Cradle'

See above.

350. Dreaming From The Waist - The Who from 'Who By Numbers'

Killer epic from The Who. Great lyrics, great playing, great all around. I don't have much use for 'Quadrophenia' or 'Tommy'. Whenever anyone tells me something is IMPORTANT or EPIC I tend to think they are unsure of whether or not the work is actually those things. But if they are content to let ME decide? Then they got me.

351. Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See - Busta Rhymes from 'Heavy Turbulence - Music From Elektra'

Okay, Busta. I will. Good song.

352. Meanest Man - Billy Bragg & Wilco from 'Mermaid Avenue, Vol. 2'

It is a hoot to think of Woody Guthrie writing these hard boiled lyrics. It adds a dimension to him that is much appreciated. Sainthood is boring.

353. London Bye Ta Ta - David Bowie from 'Bowie At The Beeb (Disc 1)'

Hey David, I have an idea. Why don't you totally transform yourself and your songwriting and give up bullshit like this and really leave your mark on history? Can you do that? Because this is a pile of crap.

Thanks for the ride, Pimp.

B.O.

2011-01-05T09:53:00.000-08:00

My father taught me that the apostrophe and capital M in my name was sacred. Especially considering that my initials would be 'B.O.' without them. Computers have really put a crimp in this belief as I've had to acquiesce to various multinational conglomerates knowing me only as Brendan Omalley or OMalley or even God forbid Brendan O Malley, as if my middle name were Oscar or some other dumb shit.

On the bus this morning I was confronted with the real thing. The tendency is to blame the person sitting next to you. However, the little Mexican lady was impeccable. A goth hipster across the aisle seemed well groomed. There's the culprit...

On the raised platform sat the offending party. If you are homeless I don't hold your smell against you. But if you look like you came out of an apartment that BY LAW has to have a shower or bath then, come on, Stinky! Get it together.

Luckily I had a coffee so I kept my nose pressed up against the Starbucks cup and greedily inhaled the odor as if it were coke and I was in a 1980's Bret Easton Elis novel. Dude reeked.

Because one of my senses was being assaulted, I delved deeper into the music with my ears. Maybe if I really got into the tunes my nose wouldn't hurt so much.

287. I Can't Get Next To You - Al Green from 'Al Green - Greatest Hits'

I'll say I can't get next to you. You stink. So far the music isn't working.

288. Hurricane - Bob Dylan from 'The Essential Bob Dylan (Disc 2)'

This is not a good song. I know, they made a movie out of it, it's true, blah blah blah. But real life is NOT great art. When Bob Dylan is making shit up he is more interesting than the fact that cops in Paterson, NJ are racist.

289. When You're Smiling - Louis Armstrong from 'All-Time Greatest Hits'

Whenever Louis Armstrong comes on, I have a brief moment of impatience, like what happens when the remote breaks and you're stuck watching an old episode of 'The Jackie Gleason Show'. But about thirty seconds in, you ain't changing the channel and you're laughing your ass off.

290. La La Love You - Pixies from 'Doolittle'

Up there with the greats this album is.

291. Speak Low - Tony Bennett from 'Unplugged'

Tony nails this audience to the wall.

292. The Back Door To Heaven - Aztec Camera from 'Knife'

I'm looking for the front door out of the club to get away from Aztec Camera.

293. Reconsider Me - Warren Zevon from 'Genius: The Best Of Warren Zevon'

This is a heartbreak of a song. A man pleading for a second chance, the boy who cried wolf, the abuser who wishes he could stop hitting her, the user who blushes with shame as the needle pierces the skin. Harrowing.

294. Headache - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

Oh Liz. Melody rolls her eyes and laughs at me whenever Liz Phair comes up because she knows I have a crush on her. I feel like I am in 8th grade every time a song of hers comes on.

295. This Is How I Do It - Pimp Fu from 'Raw Fushi...t'

Yes it is, Pimp. It is how you do it. He poses an interesting question here..."Do you think it's easy to manipulate the beats like this? Livin' on the edge?' I for one do NOT think it's easy.

296. Being Alone Together - David & David from 'Boomtown'

For a short second this sounds like it is going to be a sexy song. And you get the feeling that they wanted to write a make-out song. But then their darker impulses can't help but take over and instead it's a break-up song.

297. Ballad Of A Teenage Queen - Johnny Cash from 'The Sun Years'

The bullshit background singers are like a bow tie on a pit bull. They sound absurd next to Johnny's baritone.

298. Mincer Ray - Guided By Voices from 'Bee Thousand'

More weirdness from the boys from Dayton.

299. Brendan # 1 - Fugazi from 'Repeater + 3 Songs'

Instrumental punk/funk/crunk with my name on it. What's not to like?

300. Not Behind The Fighter Jet - Guided By Voices from 'Mag Earwhig!'

This is right up there for me in terms of favorites from this band. The sentiment is matched perfectly with the music (a massive military cacophony as an ode to a babe) and somehow very touching in the midst of all the noise is his declaration: "I'm not behind the fighter jet/I'd much rather back a simple girl".

Also some pre-apocalyptic fear to get the juices flowing.

301. Humiliate Me - The Fatima Mansions from 'Lost In The Former West'

When The Mansions come to town you'd better lock your doors or you'll be licking their bootheels as they hold you down and enumerate your many faults in front of their own personal tribune.

302. Earth Song - Michael Jackson from 'HIStory (Disc 2)'

Somehow he can make you forget all the bullshit. Even with this stupid green anthem. It's an obvious ploy to get us to focus on something other than the ruined face and the little boys. Like Cheney pimping a charity for kids with cancer. Who could argue? But when Jackson wails his voice is like a perfectly successful propaganda campaign. In the face of it all atrocity is forgotten. That's power. And powerlessness as well.

303. Russian Dance - Tom Waits from 'The Black Rider'

I make fun of ol' Tom for seeming to be more interested in creating a song out of two tin cans, a busted microwave oven, bacon fat sizzling on a pan, and three dogs fighting over a pile of broken glass. But occasionally his thirst for quirk creates strange beautiful vistas. This is one of them. You almost expect Anton Chekhov to pipe in with a verse about his tomato garden.

304. Fire Of Unknown Origin (Bonus Track - Original Version) - Blue Oyster Cult from 'Agents Of Fortune (Remaster)'

Oh, this is a bonus track? God, you guys SUCK.

305. You Made Me Love You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins from 'Voodoo Jive: The Best Of Screamin' Jay Hawkins'

Dude is crazy. Seriously. Do yourself a favor and go out and buy a greatest hits collection from Screamin' Jay Hawkins. It is not to be believed.

306. So Sorry - Runner & The Thermodynamics from 'Marlboro: The 2nd Sessions'

Whenever songs come up from these compilations I usually lose patience real quick. But this is actually quite a good song. Thumbs up.

307. Swanee River Rock (live) - Ray Charles from 'Ray Charles Live'

I love air. I am glad air keeps me alive. I like Ray Charles more than air.

308. Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock & Roll) - Elton John from 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'

Hey Elton, you are trying too hard. All I can think when I hear his old stuff is the music bouncing off the walls of the closet he is singing from inside of.

309. Big Boys - Elvis Costello & The Attractions from 'This Year's Model'

Streamlined killer pop punk.

310. I'll Follow The Sun - The Beatles from 'Beatles For Sale'

Hey World, beat this! Oh, you can't? Didn't think so!

311. 24 Mo' Hours - Ice Cube from 'War & Peace, Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc)'

I wish Ice Cube could get twenty four more hours from dealing with these killers and these cowards. He doesn't want to lose, all he wants to do is win, he fucked up today, can he try it again?

312. Gotta Say - Low Light Supercharger from 'Umpg Presents Res Freq Recordings'

Another surprise enjoyment of a middling hard rock song on a random sampler. Dig it.

313. I Don't Believe You've Met My Baby - Dolly Parton from 'Little Sparrow'

There is a sessions player in Nashville who grabbed his acoustic guitar and tore this song to pieces. I don't know his name but Hendrix, Page, Clapton, Van Halen...all those guys couldn't carry his jock.

314. Allure - Jay-Z from 'The Black Album'

I can't wait for him to own part of a Brooklyn basketball team. This New Jersey Net bullshit has got to end.

315. Pride And Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble from 'Greatest Hits'

Stevie Ray Vaughan could give Dolly's acoustic guitar hero a run for his money. If I were down at the crossroads with Robert Johnson and offering my soul to the Devil and he said, "Well, okay, but who do you want to be able to play like?" it would be SRV. Hands down.

316. Time To Get Ill - The Beastie Boys from 'Licensed To Ill'

Rap has come a long way. Hip hop has come even further. This song must make The Beasties cringe.

317. Shove - L7 from 'Tank Girl'

I remember the hype machine trying to shove L7 down every one's throat. They just ain't that good.

318. For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder from 'For Once In My Life/Uptight'

More perfection from this guy who is somehow still underrated.

319. Big Egos - Dr. Dre from '2001 (Instrumental)'

This music is terrifying. When you strip the braggadocio vocals away, what you are left with is a soundtrack to an imaginary movie. The sounds contain sun, sand, weed, shiny rims, and lurking around every corner is danger. He layers in helicopters in the background. Gunshots break the mood. Screams ring out. Then it all drops away and you are left with nothing but the beat. And then you feel what it might mean to grow up in that atmosphere and have nothing to count on except the music you love.

320. Maxwell's Silver Hammer - The Beatles from 'Abbey Road'

These guys are okay. They might amount to something.

321. P Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up) - Parliament from 'Parliament's Greatest Hits'

So a little bit of funk goes a long way. This is seven minutes and five don't matter. But it's still fun. Someone recently claimed George Clinton was from Detroit and I think he's from Minneapolis. Gonna Google and come right back...

Both wrong. The 'P' in 'P-Funk' originally referred to 'Plainfield' as in 'Plainfield, New Jersey'. Which must have morphed into Parliament...

322. Speedway Baby - Velvet Crush from 'In The Presence Of Greatness'

These guys hail from Providence, RI and kick ass.

323. God Is In The Radio - Queens Of The Stone Age from 'Songs For The Deaf'

Talk about kicking ass. If this were the 1970's these guys would be on posters on every wall of every white kid in America. Seeing as they came up in the 1990's they are cult stars at best. Would be household names.

324. The Tourniquet Blues - Brendan O'Malley from 'Rhode Island Red'

I like this song. Before I typed 'I like this song' I typed 'cringe-worthy'. So I am conflicted. I can't play it anymore and I wouldn't if I could because it isn't good enough but I was actually a bit surprised at how good my guitar playing was back in 1993. I don't know that I've improved all that much.

325. Stray Cat Blues - The Rolling Stones from 'Beggars Banquet'

I love every cut on this album and count it as my favorite Stones album. I know it isn't the best, but it is my favorite.

326. Cashing In - Minor Threat from 'Minor Threat: Complete Discography'

At some time in the future there will be some way to quantify how important this band was to the alternative music explosion that occurred in the early 1990's. The entire grunge anti-corporate ethos is lifted verbatim from these D.C. egghead brawlers and most of the licks and fuzz and bombast is stolen too. Without them there is no Pearl Jam, no Green Day, no System Of A Down, hell, there isn't even a Fall Out Boy, which, who cares, but the bottom line remains...Minor Threat might just be the most important and influential rock band in American history. And about 1000,000 people know it.

327. Get Crunk, Get Buck - Al Kapone from 'Hustle & Flow'

Thanks, Al, I will. I will get crunk. I will get buck. How could I refrain from getting crunk and buck when you have created such a killer crunk 'n buck track?

328. Looks - Mike Doughty from 'Skittish'

This is one of the weaker tracks on this album and it is still perfect.

329. Whores - Janes Addiction from 'Kettle Whistle'

It's at times like these that I long for a good slow jam from Luther Vandross. Or Lawrence Welk. Or anyone for that matter. Just get this shit off my iPod.

I am now about a week into a new way of eating. Only salad, vegetables, fruit, nuts, and meat. Slimmin' down, look out America! Look the fuck out for me!

Slow Learner

2011-01-04T10:07:00.000-08:00

I am reading 'Slow Learner', the collection of short stories by Thomas Pynchon. Pynchon has become something of an obsession for me, one that Melody indulged by getting me this book for Christmas. My plan is to read all of his books in chronological order. This collection of stories were mostly written before he published 'V.' in 1963 so I am starting here. Once I finish this, it is on to 'V.' which I'll be reading alongside a study guide to make sure I understand it as fully as possible. Then I'll get the study guide for his next and so on until his latest, 'Inherent Vice'.

The idea of being a slow learner hits close to home. Today I feel like I'm in the back of the classroom, not paying attention at the critical moment, missing the crucial information being provided to me, lost in some daydream that is an impassable barrier between my inner life and what I want.

268. Dry - PJ Harvey from 'Rid Of Me'

There are so many entendres in this song I barely know where to begin. Suffice it to say that if PJ Harvey were breaking up with me, I wouldn't want her to be sneering at me and repeating over and over that I leave her dry. Because even though it implies that I'm leaving her, I can't help but suspect it is the other way around. I wish I'd left you wet, PJ.

269. Prove Yourself - Radiohead from 'Pablo Honey'

This album is like 'Omoo' or 'Typee' by Herman Melville. 'Moby Dick' is right around the corner so you don't really have to pay attention.

270. Arroz Con Pollo - Maxwell from 'Embrya'

I have gone through several different Maxwell phases. Right now I am all ears. His is that rare voice that is at once classic and idiosyncratic. Of course, this is an instrumental track, but the slinkiness and sexiness are there just the same. Hearing this today makes me want to go pick up the latest thing he put out. All I know is he cut his hair and was wearing a tux with the bowtie unclipped. This seems like a good career move.

271. When It Started - The Strokes from 'Is This It?'

I cannot extricate my feelings about this band from my feelings about New York City. Terribly painful memories that are beautiful to behold. So linked to a specific time and place that it is as if these songs are a time capsule. Not in a time capsule representative of an era, but a time capsule themselves, containing anything and everything from the era itself.

272. The Fight - Cornelius from 'The Powerpuff Girls: Heroes & Villains'

The Powerpuff Girls are awesome and this song rules.

273. Root Down - The Beastie Boys from 'Ill Communication'

Okay, I will.

274. The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana from 'MTV: Unplugged In New York'

Right after this song ends, while the audience erupts, Kurt Cobain mutters, "That's a David Bowie song". It is a telling moment. He deliberately chose a more obscure Bowie number, one he must love. He doesn't want the audience thinking he WROTE that song. He thinks they are only clapping for him and that they think he wrote it. Which many of them probably did. But he also didn't say beforehand, "I love this David Bowie track. Maybe you never heard it but here is my take on it." There is something weirdly passive aggressive going on there, judgmental and angry. He has contempt for that crowd. And that, more than anything, is what makes him so fascinating. The simultaneous beckoning and rejecting of a massive wave of adulation that he asked for.

275. Penny (Previously Unreleased) - Terry Reid from 'Superlungs ('69)'

Oh Terry. If only you'd had a great band. Like, say, Led Zeppelin.

276. Complicated Shadows - Elvis Costello from 'All This Useless Beauty'

Odd that Elvis will forever be linked with Tony Soprano through this song. This album consists of songs meant to be sung by someone else. But no one else could have nailed this quite so perfectly.

277. Broken Home, Broken Heart - Husker Du from 'Zen Arcade'

It's hard being a punk rock hardcore gay guitar hero in the early 1980's in Minneapolis.

278. Czar - Frank Black from 'Frank Black'

The songs on this album seem like tiny bits of coal right on the verge of transforming into diamonds. The grit is giving way to flash and beauty but it's all happening at once.

279. Mr Ynioshi - Oranj Symphonette from 'Plays Mancini'

I want this band to play at my wedding.

280. The Finest Joke Is Upon Us - Guided By Voices from 'Mag Earwhig!'

Fitting that I began today's post talking about Pynchon because if there is anyone in music who has taken up that kind of mantle, it would be Robert Pollard. Those two need to get together and demolish some beers and old-fashioned ways of thinking.

281. Alberta - Leadbelly from 'Alabama Bound'

The first rock star.

282. Johnny Sunshine - Liz Phair from 'Exile In Guyville'

The liner notes of this album look like a Facebook page. Pictures that cut off right at the edge of her tits, fake blow-job face, slutty come-on that is sexy because it isn't for anyone else but herself. Slowly coming to believe that she towers over everyone else.

283. Bamboo (Interlude) - Big Boi from 'Speakerboxxx'

Big Boi teaches his son to rap. So cute.

284. Sometimes - My Bloody Valentine from 'Lost In Translation'

These guys are like the Holy Grail of rock, only they are easy to find.

285. Truth Or Dare (feat. Kelis & Pusha T) - N*E*R*D from 'In Search Of...'

I had such high hopes for N*E*R*D, which supposedly stands for 'No-one Ever Really Dies'. No-one who can afford serious bling and bitches anyway.

286. Superhero - Ani DiFranco from 'Dilate'

See the above post about Liz Phair. Ani has all the attributes that Liz does not. She can really play guitar. She takes herself seriously. She can make stuff sound pristine on her self-produced albums. In short, she's like the teacher's pet. Everything is in place but she ISN'T ANY GOD DAMN FUN.

I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar faces.

2011

2011-01-03T10:01:00.000-08:00

Paul Westerberg was born on the last day of the 1950's. So it is fitting that today the iPod repeatedly dips into the canon. And it is a canon, make no mistake, one that often adds the extra 'n' and blows just about anything out of the water.

235. Radiation - Apples In Stereo from 'New Magnetic Wonder'

This band crackles. They always sound fresh and in spite of the intricate production value, live. You can hear the sweat and the brain power at work. I never immediately say, "Oh, that's Apples In Stereo" which might be why they are not more well known but I also always immediately like what I hear.

236. Knock It Right Out - Paul Westerberg from 'Mono'

When Paul Westerberg re-emerged from a three year hiatus it was as if he'd pulled a Robert Johnson in reverse. He seemed to have gone down to that dark meeting of infinite highway stretching in four directions and demanded that Ol' Scratch return his soul intact. And when Paul Westerberg is on top of his game, the Devil does what he says.

237. Love You Til Friday - The Replacements from 'Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out The Trash'

So what does the iPod do? It immediately leaps back in time to the moment that The Replacements roared out of a collection of basements in Minnesota with their debut album. The title of this album seems like a direct rebuke to the bogus political stances that most young punk bands were taking. Platitudes and slogans ruled the day. The Replacements? They cut through all of that with a title that said they still had to do what their mothers asked. They were bored, hyper, horny, restless, and excited. Politics? That was for eggheads with pretension. These guys didn't want to be The Clash, they wanted to be The Rolling Stones. And they almost were. But they were also a helluva lot more.

238. Heroes - David & David from 'Boomtown'

This song is a bit of a stretch, like they had written some anthemic elegiac songs and they needed to keep the mood going. I know from personal experience that when you try to write an anthem, you usually sag under the weight of your ambition. This song sags.

239. A Face In The Crowd - Tom Petty from 'Full Moon Fever'

In keeping with the Westerberg theme, the infamous Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers amphitheater tour in which The Replacements opened for them is a crucial moment in Replacements history. A classic example of something that seemed like a good idea but just wound up alienating whoever was in the crowd. The Replacements were ambivalent about playing to their die-hard fans. Imagine a fifteen thousand seat outdoor arena filled with Rebel flag decal gun enthusiasts who were waiting to see their hero! The Replacements famously dove towards their darkest tendencies and actively antagonized the crowd. I saw this show and The Replacements turned in a killer 45 minute set. This was at the beginning of the tour and fatigue hadn't set in yet. By the end of the tour they had stolen clothing from Tom Petty's wife and worn her dresses on stage. Petty later lifted the line 'rebel without a clue' that Westerberg wrote in his song 'I'll Be You'. He never acknowledged the connection to the Westerberg song and the whole episode seems to have left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.

240. Anyway's All Right - Paul Westerberg from 'Folker'

Innnnteresting! Once Westerberg cut himself loose from the weird constraints of the traditional music business that had failed to do him justice, his work began to explode all over the map in wonderful ways. He plays every note. But it isn't the polished one-man band type effort that Dave Grohl for the original Foo Fighters record or the eclectic musicianship of Prince...no, this album is the equivalent of a diary entry. Things are scribbled out, misspelled, dates are all wrong, entries are missing, they jump from what he had for dinner to a memory of a long lost love. If the world were just Rolling Stone would have put a cartoon caricature of Paul on their cover and asked, "Is Our Greatest Living Songwriter Losing His Mind? And If He Is, How Can We Make Sure He Doesn't Get The Help He Needs?"

241. Tangled Up In Blue - Bob Dylan from 'Blood On The Tracks'

This is just weird now because Westerberg and Dylan come from the same neck of the woods. And Dylan is no stranger to completely reinventing his career and befuddling critics and fans alike, both of whom years later find themselves weeping over a long criticized album and saying, "I just didn't get it at the time. I'm SORRY!"

242. Nevada - John Linnell from 'State Songs'

I cannot wait for John Linnell to start working on this series again. I had the impression that he was going to do all fifty states. This one album is simply not enough. The last five minutes of this song sounds like a fairground with a marching band playing somewhere off in the distance. Brilliant. Plus They Might Be Giants once recorded a tribute to The Replacements called 'We're The Replacements'. Genius.

243. High Voltage - AC/DC from 'If You Want Blood You've Got It (Live)'

I think it is safe to say that The Replacements were listening to AC/DC down in the basement between takes.

244. Polyester Bride - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

There is very little connection between Liz Phair and Paul Westerberg except that if Paul Westerberg looked like Liz Phair I would like him a little bit more than I already do. And this is a killer song.

245. White And Lazy - The Replacements from 'Stink'

And Larry tries to tell me the iPod isn't alive. A harmonica blues stomp that promptly explodes into a hardcore freight train, all with Westerberg shouting, "I'm lazy! I'm white!" Light years ahead of everyone else. And no one was listening.

246. Drug Train - Social Distortion from 'Social Distortion'

Somehow Social Distortion have turned into this live juggernaut, playing New Year's Eve shows and festivals, simply honing their signature sound into something broader and catchier than the side of a barn. The Brian Setzer of punk bands.

247. Dawn Can't Decide - The Lemonheads from 'Come On Feel The Lemonheads'

Why does Evan Dando make me feel so sad? He reminds me of those body switching movies that Hollywood seems to love, only in this one, some little nerdy insecure songwriter gets his soul shoved into a cross between a pro quarterback and an Abercrombie & Fitch model. And all of a sudden no one is listening to his songs anymore, they're too busy looking at him.

248. All Because Of You - U2 from 'How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb'

I admit it. U2 is a great band. But I cannot connect emotionally to them anymore. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I never really did.

249. Sofa King - Dangerdoom from 'The Mouse & The Mask'

This is what you get when you cross technology, talent, and casual drug use. And that is not a dig.

250. Remember The Time - Michael Jackson from 'HIStory (Disc 1)'

I don't want to, Michael. You remember.

251. Trumpet Clip - Paul Westerberg from 'Eventually'

This song is TERRIBLE. There is always a thread of humor in his music, from 'Gary's Got A Boner' to 'Right To Arm Bears'. The super serious nature of most of modern rock is boring and not at all indicative of what real life is like. Unfortunately, real life occasionally means someone you respect and love tells a five minute joke that is merely annoying and you cringe every time you remember them insisting that you listen.

252. I Get Ideas - Louis Armstrong from 'All-Time Greatest Hits'

What can you say about Louis Armstrong? He's Louis Fucking Armstrong. The worst moment on this whole album of twenty some odd songs comes when Bing Crosby sings. So that should tell you something right there.

253. Bennie And The Jets - Elton John from 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'

In college I went through a phase where all I listened to was Elton John live with the Sydney Orchestra. I thought it was the best singing he'd ever done by far. Turns out he needed surgery for throat polyps. He doesn't like his singing on it but I do. And on this supposed classic song I get annoyed almost immediately. I don't care about Bennie. I don't care about The Jets. Who the fuck are these people?

254. Better Things - The Kinks from 'The Ultimate Collection (Disc 1)'

Pure gold.

255. Everything To Me - Liz Phair from 'Somebody's Miracle'

She breaks my heart EVERY SINGLE TIME.

256. Tonight I Will Retire - Damien Jurado from 'Ghost Of David'

Haunting and disturbing. I came across Jurado via my friend Jon Leahy (I think) and I was blown away by his prolific catalog, his deep lyrical content, and his unforgettable melodies. He is an original and cannot be compared to anyone. And virtually unknown.

257. Apple Tree - Erykah Badu from 'Baduizm'

Bitch is crazy. But awesome. So awesome. The fact that Erykah Badu is out there trying to decipher all the secret codes that the powers that be are using to try and knock her off her pedestal is a reassuring one, even though she is so crazy that she makes me start to believe that the powers that be are using secret codes to try and knock her off her pedestal.

258. God (Interlude) - Outkast from 'The Love Below'

Andre talks to God who turns out to be female and she agrees with him that 'head' isn't cheating. Hilarious.

259. P.S. I Love You - The Beatles from 'Please Please Me'

Um, P.S. you guys are about to take over the fucking world. So get ready.

260. Frenesi (live) - Ray Charles from 'Ray Charles Live'

I don't know what it means but I like to dance to it.

261. Doc & Dawg - Doc Watson & David Grisman from 'Doc & Dawg'

Virtuosity on such a grand scale that it stops feeling like music and feels more like watching Michelangelo dangling from a scaffold on his back with a paint brush between his teeth.

262. Lotta Love - Dinosaur Jr from 'The Bridge - A Tribute To Neil Young'

I love Dinosaur Jr but this juvenile take on a classic is obnoxious. It reminds me of the smart ass kid who is assigned 'Catcher In The Rye' to write a book report about and all they notice is the swear words when it's obvious that they are exactly like Holden Caulfield.

263. Only Son - Liz Phair from 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'

Oh Liz, you smelled so nice when you hugged me. And your songs kill me.

264. Velvet Snow - Kings Of Leon from 'Aha Shake Heartbreak'

I know these guys have become the sonic equivalent of an overplayed Super Bowl commercial but I refuse to allow myself to get all jaded about them. They are a sick rock and roll band. Unlike a slew of their competitors, I can actually imagine them playing a small club to a bunch of folks who have no idea who they are and IMMEDIATELY winning the crowd over.

265. They Hung Him On A Cross (Demo) - Nirvana from 'With The Lights Out (Disc 1)

Clearly Kurt had a Leadbelly obsession and I think Leadbelly would have been confused about why Kurt wanted to off himself. I mean, Leadbelly killed like three people and was so racked with guilt that he merely became rich and famous at a time when a black man with a guitar was more punk than punk ever was is or will ever be. He'd say, "Put that shotgun down, fool. Pick up your guitar. Or if you're gonna pick up the shotgun, at least shoot somebody else."

266. You Can't Take It With You - Paul Kelly & The Messengers from 'So Much Water So Close To Home'

A perfect album. A perfect song.

267. War & Peace - Ice Cube from 'War & Peace Volume 1 (The War Disc)'

There is not a bad song on this entire two disc album. Unheard of in rap circles, where every third song seems like an afterthought.

Happy Birthday Paul Westerberg, from me and the iPod!

Jzzs, Debbie, and Jofus

2010-12-28T09:07:00.000-08:00

My niece is fascinated with the Nativity. For some reason she refers to Mary as Debbie. She calls Joseph Jofus, as if he is some sort of Middle Eastern redneck, and Jesus gets all the vowels taken out of his name.

Melody's niece, when told it was Jesus' birthday, looked up at her mother and said, "Cupcakes?!?"

I have been left to my own devices for the past few days, as Cashel is off in the desert with his mom and uncle and Melody is still in North Carolina. This is not good for me. I have not fallen apart completely but give me time and I'll surely crack.

217. Damned Ladies - Rufus Wainwright from 'Rufus Wainwright'

This one is probably my least favorite song on the album which is sort of like saying it is the least favorite of my favorite Shakespeare plays. It's ALL SHAKESPEARE.

218. Shine - Dolly Parton from 'Little Sparrow'

Dolly takes a middling modern rock hit by Collective Soul and tricks it out in her usual fashion. This song did nothing for me in its original state and Dolly has breathed new life into it with her considerable lungs. Ahem.

219. If (Instrumental) - Wild Colonials from 'Home Movie Sound Kit (Disc 2)'

I am friends with Shark, the guitarist for this great Canadian/LA band. They were in the middle of trying to extricate themselves from a bad contract and Shark came up with the idea of releasing their songs as instrumental tracks to be used in movies. Their dense atmospheric melodies are perfect cinematic accompaniment. Moody and sensuous.

220. Scream - Michael Jackson from 'HIStory (Disc 2)'

What can you say about this guy? He didn't seem all that interested in doing a duet with his sister until he needed a comeback. Kind of says it all.

221. Airbag - Radiohead from 'OK Computer'

Trying to explain my appreciation for this album is like attempting to define the best part of oxygen. It is self-explanatory. I can still remember the shock of seeing the videos to these songs and realizing that Radiohead was, all of a sudden, the best and most important band in the world. That doesn't make them my favorite but it's fifteen years later and nobody has knocked them off the hill yet.

222. Freedom Road - The Divine Comedy from 'Absent Friends'

My sister Sheila insisted that I listen to this guy and in retrospect I can see why. I know hyperbole is a staple part of my writing but The Divine Comedy has got to be the single most underrated songwriter of the past thirty years. No one knows who this guy is and then you listen to his stuff and it is like entering a world where there was another Beatle. Who wound up being the best one.

223. Broken Face - Pixies from 'Surfer Rosa & Come On Pilgrim'

Replacements fans everywhere drool at the prospect of a reunion like the one the Pixies treated us to in 2004. They'd toiled away during their heyday and hit the amphitheaters for what was essentially a victory lap.

224. Skip To My Lou - Dan Zanes from 'Family Dance'

I was delighted when I discovered these albums for children and I would still recommend them to anyone with a little child. Just be prepared for the moment in the future when you want to grab Dan Zanes by his skinny little neck and shake him until his big stupid hair shakes on top of his annoying head.

225. Hold Me - Stevie Wonder from 'For Once In My Life/Uptight'

One of those songs you know you've heard a million times but never quite paid enough attention to. Joyous and beautiful singing and playing.

226. Dead And Lovely - Tom Waits from 'Real Gone'

When Tom Waits dispenses with all the overwrought grunting and bizarre instruments there is no one who can touch him. A haunting and disturbing elegy of loss.

227. Smooth Sailing - Ella Fitzgerald from 'The Very Best Of Ella (Disc 1)'

I liken my feelings about Ella Fitzgerald to my feelings about Al Pacino. Any criticism must be prefaced with the basic fact that, hey, it's AL PACINO. So he is annoying and over the top in 'Heat' and 'Scent Of A Woman', that doesn't erase 'Dog Day Afternoon', 'The Godfather Movies', or 'Donnie Brasco'. Same thing with Ella. When she starts to scat (the aspect of her work that everyone else seems to love the most) I immediately want to tear my hair out. And hers. But she's still ELLA.

228. Brainstorm - New Mischief from 'New Mischief EP'

Timothy Buzz and I captured lightning in a bottle.

229. Sea Anemone - Jets To Brazil from 'Orange Rhyming Dictionary'

They skirt the self-indulgent line perfectly in this song because even thought the narrator is supposedly contemplating suicide in a hotel room he still has enough energy to belt the shit out of this song.

230. Cheeze Surprize - Pimp Fu from 'Shocker'

To his fans, Pimp Fu had always been the crazy guy, caught in the corner of his own mind, raving and raging against himself, to himself, about himself. So when this album came out it was obvious that this was not THAT Pimp Fu. The explicit content makes 2Live Crew look like storytelling time for kids at the local library and strippers blushed at the brazen come-ons peppered throughout this bawdy hilarious album.

231. Rid Of Me - PJ Harvey from 'Rid Of Me'

Hey PJ, take a nap and let the Pimp Fu have a crack at ya. He'll cheer you up.

232. Big Time Woman - Leon Redbone from 'On The Track'

My parents were big fans of Leon Redbone. They let Sheila and I stay up late to see him on Saturday Night Live. We couldn't stop laughing at the deep bassoon sound coming out of that little white-suited weirdo. We probably annoyed our parents by our lack of appreciation but he sure stuck in my head. To the point where this is now one of my favorite albums of all time.

233. In The Darkest Place - Elvis Costello With Burt Bacharach from 'Painted From Memory'

At the time I thought Elvis was just being impossibly pompous and pretentious. But in keeping with the re-flowering of my love affair with Mr. Costello, I hear something very different now. Ultra classy sophisticated pop music.

234. Fantino - Sebastian Tellier from 'Lost In Translation'

Fantino? Fantastic!

See ya bitches.

Short Shuffle

2010-12-23T09:34:00.001-08:00

I have been driving the past couple of days so no long shuffle stretches on the bus, only gym workout mixes. This is what I listened to last night strapped to various machines and sweating like a nutball.

207. Sabre Dance from "Gayane" - Aram Khatchaturyan and the Houston Symphony Orchestra from 'Romantic Melodies For Orchestra: 20th Century"

Oh yeah, nothing gets me psyched up to pump some iron quite like the Sabre Dance. It's almost like actual steroids. Thanks, iPod for hanging me out to dry here. For about a year Cashel would fall asleep to the 'Classical Genre' on my iTunes. He loves this song.

208. N.S.U. - Cream from 'The Very Best Of Cream'

Boy, I'd hate to hear 'The Very Worst Of Cream' because the very best sucks pretty hard.

209. The Kill - Fugazi from 'The Argument'

It is hard for me to believe that it has been ten years since Fugazi put out this album, what appears to have been their last. It is also their best. Like everything else they did it was under the radar. They don't care about radar. They are radar.

I have this fond wish that some day they will reunite and play together again. I feel very lucky to have seen them at their prime, which is another way of saying 'I saw them at any time during their career' because they were never less than transcendent.

210. Take A Look - Liz Phair from 'Liz Phair'

I feel very protective of Liz Phair. Every time I hear her I get my hackles up in defense, not from critics but from fans who simply can't let go of 'Exile In Guyville'. In my opinion she has improved with every release. That is not a knock on 'Guyville' but she has challenged herself time and time again. Fans who want artists to repeat themselves are not true fans. They are sheep. Sheep must be shorn.

211. Surfin' Cow - The Dead Milkmen from 'Bucky Fellini'

We don't mean a word we say, aren't we funny? Everything is lame, so are we but at least we don't care. Hahahahaha, aren't we hilarious?

This album came out around the same time as Bon Jovi's 'Livin' On A Prayer' and you know what? 'Livin' On A Prayer' is BETTER MUSIC even though millions of idiots like it more.

212. Optimistic - Radiohead from 'Kid A'

Everyone else is playing for second place.

213. Latest Disgrace - Fugazi from 'Red Medicine'

When all my hardcore die-hards heard that Ian Mackaye had a new band everyone was conflicted. Minor Threat are the Led Zeppelin of hardcore. They simply outplayed everyone else. By miles and miles. I didn't know it but what I feared the most was that his next band would sound sort of the same but not be as good.

Imagine our surprise when Fugazi behaved as if Minor Threat had never existed. How do you ensure that you don't sound stale? Simply invent a new genre of music again.

Good lord they're good. I don't want the music business to be fair. It is supposed to be cutthroat. I don't begrudge the mainstream superstars their conquests. I simply feel bad for the legions of people who will never fully grasp what they never knew they missed.

214. Action And Drama - bis from 'Social Dancing'

Okay, that was great, guys, now for take two could we have a little more action and a little more drama? Actually, how about a LOT more action and a LOT more drama? You know what, ANY action and ANY drama would suffice.

215. A Tender Lie - Dolly Parton from 'Little Sparrow'

I am not a boob man. So I don't care about those famous exaggerations that everyone seems to focus on when it comes to Dolly Parton. What if everyone only wanted to talk about Bob Dylan's piercing eyes? Granted, Dolly has not shied away from utilizing all of her assets to her advantage but her LUNGS are more astonishing than the expanse of flesh that cover them. Titty Mama can sing!

216. Sexy Sadie - The Beatles from 'White Album (Disc 2)'

If this song came from any other band it would be their finest moment. For The Beatles? It's track 5 on side 3 of a double album. Douchebags.

The holiday season is upon us. Wishing you and yours the best.

Rain Again???

2010-12-22T10:00:00.001-08:00

This might be the wettest stretch of weather I've experienced since moving to Los Angeles in 2003. I managed to leave my umbrella at Coffee Bean as I rushed out to jump on a bus but then an angry passenger threatened the driver before we even started moving and he called the cops and kicked everyone off except the offender who was continuing to call him any number of names.

I went back inside and retrieved my umbrella and hopped on the next bus which was free of conflict. Plus the bus driver didn't make me pay again as he could see people streaming off the other bus as it morphed into a crime scene.

172. Posse In Effect - The Beastie Boys from 'Licensed To Ill'

There isn't much music made that has the sole purpose of being fun. The Beastie Boys are masters at this, making song after song that have no hint of anger, bitterness, pain, weakness, or anything resembling a negative emotion. Don't mistake this for shallowness. Willfully excluding darkness is uplifting. Plus it's got a good beat and is fun to dance to.

173. Exit Only - Fugazi from 'Steady Diet Of Nothing'

The opposite of the above, Fugazi mine very different ore. They insist on a rigorous analysis of this sorry old world we live in and then they mirror it back at us in torrents of precise abandon. Exciting, yes. Intense, yes. Fun? Not really.

174. Shadow Of A Doubt (Complex Kid) - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers from 'Damn The Torpedoes'

Tom Petty has been famous for so long that he gets taken for granted. To my mind he leaves Bruce Springsteen in the dust as the true chronicler of working class America in the latter half of the 20th century. Bruce THINKS he's doing this but what he's doing is something closer to mythology. Petty doesn't inject the wind on our faces with meaning, he just describes the dust in our eyes.

175. P.L.P. - The Mahoneys from 'Live From The 20th Century'

Perhaps the greatest band ever fronted by Brendan O'Malley in the 1990's in Rhode Island. Also the abbreviation avoids perhaps the most pretentious rock song title ever inflicted on man, 'Passed Lamenting's Past'. Yikes. Somehow it still rocks in spite of the horseshit.

176. Sweet Wine - Cream from 'The Very Best Of Cream'

Hey Cream, quit curdlin'!

177. Still Tippin' (It's A Man's World Remix) - Mike Jones from 'Hustle & Flow'

Mike JONES! I love this guy because all he has to do is repeat his name over and over again. "It's Mike JONES!" He manages to turn the most bland moniker ever worn by a rapper into some sort of rally point. I made my parents watch this movie and they loved it. If you haven't seen 'Hustle & Flow' DO IT.

178. Everybody Knows A Little Bit Of Something - King's X from 'Gretchen Goes To Nebraska'

Who can't use a little gay Christian heavy metal R&B? I personally can never get enough of it!

179. Why Can't A Man Stand Alone? - Elvis Costello from 'All This Useless Beauty'

The conceit of this album (and what Elvis album would be complete without a conceit) is that it gathers a bunch of songs that Elvis originally wrote for other people to record. Lately I'm finding myself drawn back into his catalog like a drunk shaking outside of a bar. It might not be good for me but I'm gonna do it anyway.

180. Stars Of Warburton - Midnight Oil from 'Blue Sky Mining'

Great song, great album, great band. I always find myself vaguely rejecting them the minute a song comes on and by the time it is thirty seconds in I have left judgment behind and I'm with them all the way. A strange unique success.

181. Middle Man - Living Colour from 'Vivid'

What I just wrote about Midnight Oil you can reverse for these guys. Optimism surges the minute that they run into my ears. There are great elements at play in every one of their songs. And then? It fizzles.

182. Dreamer In My Dreams - Wilco from 'Being There (Disc 2)'

This is how I like my Wilco. Loud, fast, and a little out of control. The more Brian Wilson/Pet Sounds Jeff Tweedy gets, the less I care. And I just realized that the title of this album is 'Being There'.

183. All You Need Is Love - The Beatles from '1'

Saying this is my least favorite Beatles song is like saying a certain batch of oxygen is my least favorite air. But there you have it. I have always internally rebelled against this song and its simplistic message. I find myself imagining long late night arguments between myself and John Lennon in which I ridicule this song by saying things like, "Really, John? Really? So the starving kid doesn't need food he only needs LOVE? REALLY?" To which John always shrugs his shoulders and says something like, "Did you start a band called The Beatles and change human history? I didn't think so." Which, while true, still pisses me off.

184. Wooooh, Din Din Da Doop Doop - Pimp Fu from 'First Press'

Timothy experimenting with strange boops and beeps and beats. Creepy and cool.

185. See My Friend - The Kinks from 'The Ultimate Collection (Disc 1)'

The more I listen the more I like. These guys are way underrated. Which, considering how highly rated they are, is almost preposterous.

186. I'll Wear It Proudly - The Costello Show from 'King Of America'

Okay, Elvis, I'll take you back. I will buy some new stuff of yours to love. I am sorry I've neglected you over the past decade in which you've recorded albums with opera singers, string quartets, marching bands, prison guards, goat herds, race cars, and newscasters. I'm back in, quit buggin' me.

187. Remember Me - Freedy Johnston from 'Can You Fly'

Freedy hadn't learned to sing yet. He overdoes everything, like a little kid pronouncing a difficult word for the first time. For some reason I don't have the album of his that I really love, probably because every time I hear 'Bad Reputation' I have to seek psychiatric help.

188. Professor Booty - The Beastie Boys from 'Check Your Head'

Like I said, fun.

189. Mr. Rabbit - Paul Westerberg from 'Stereo'

There is so much magic in this song you can almost see the hat it came out of.

190. Let's Do It - Joan Jett & Paul Westerberg from 'Tank Girl'

There is a history of collaboration between these two that is awesome. She recorded 'Androgynous' and he sang on a song of hers called 'Backlash'. They should be the Mick Jagger/Tina Turner of their generation but the music business failed them.

191. In The Evening - Dan Zanes from 'Family Dance'

Oh shut up. Cut your hair. Record an album for grown ups.

192. I Lost It - Lucinda Williams from 'Car Wheels On A Gravel Road'

Perfect album. SO perfect in fact that I have never bought anything else by her, even the album with the song about Paul Westerberg on it.

193. Getting In Tune - The Who from 'Who's Next'

Hearing this song so soon upon the heels of The Kinks makes me wish The Kinks would reunite to play the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Because The Who come in a distant second in this particular race.

194. Keep Fishin' - Weezer from 'Maladroit'

Forgettable.

195. A Face In The Crowd - Tom Petty from 'Full Moon Fever'

Fantastic.

196. Trad: Amazing Grace - Mark O'Connor from 'Heartland: An Appalachian Anthology'

Gorgeous. It makes me think of standing on the altar singing 'Amazing Grace' at the funeral of my uncle Jimmy. Who was a piece o' work as we like to say. But what O'Malley isn't?

197. Filipino Box Spring Hog - Tom Waits from 'Mule Variations'

Shocking, but the weirdness doesn't bother me on this one. I can smell the fat dripping into the fire as the pig is roasted on the spit.

198. Monday Morning - Pulp from 'Different Class'

To make a sports analogy, this album is like a perennial backup stepping in after an injury and winning the batting title. They will go back to being a back up but they had one perfect moment in the sun. Sort of makes you wonder why they can't do it every time, though.

199. Long Tall Sally - The Beatles from 'Past Masters - Volume One'

You can imagine these four guys ripping your heart out of your chest in a small club. If you took away all of the albums and were left with those four guys on a stage you still have the greatest band of all time.

200. Come Together - Michael Jackson from HIStory (Disc 2)'

Oh, Michael. This is sad. By covering this song you reveal all of your weaknesses. Your talent sounds small compared to the achievement inherent in the notes and words. Your delusion cannot hold against the onslaught of true genius and it is smashed to bits by the very song you dare to interpret.

201. Tacoland - The Dead Milkmen from Bucky Fellini

Stupid.

202. Sorted For E's & Wizz - Pulp from 'Different Class'

Terrifying and sad. The narrator recounts being at an outdoor music festival and being abandoned by his friends while tripping on various illicit drugs. A void of panic envelops him and he cannot grasp any meaning in anything. Is that all there is?

203. Investigative Reports - Genius/GZA from 'Liquid Swords'

Monstrously bizarre.

204. The Yet - Brendan O'Malley from 'White Walls'

Take a nap. Jesus. Whiner.

205. Stars Gone Out - Low from 'The Curtain Hits The Cast'

There is only one song on this album that I need to hear. In fact, only one song by these slow Mormons will ever be necessary to me and it is 'The Plan' which Melody and I once listened to for eight short hours straight.

206. Stardust - Rob Wasserman/Aaron Neville from 'Duets'

I know I'm supposed to love Aaron Neville but I kind of want him to cut all the bullshit and just sing. He's like a basketball player doing a fancy dunk when all he needs to do is lay it in. And while he twirls around and preens for us, time expires.

See ya tomorrow.

Aaaaand Still Raining

2010-12-21T09:28:00.001-08:00

The gray sky has almost transformed Los Angeles into a place where quiet introspection in nicely lit warm rooms is the only weapon we have against the weather. But tomorrow or the next day people will be out and about again and the little Eastern interlude will be all but forgotten.

152. He's Wearing My Bathrobe - Don Was from 'Backbeat (Music From The Original Motion Picture)'

I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Don Was for his work producing 'Suicaine Gratifaction', the great Paul Westerberg album. Westerberg hasn't worked with anyone since. However, a ten minute jazz noodle-fest is almost too much for me to take. I bought this album thinking it was the OTHER 'Backbeat' soundtrack which has a whole slew of indie/punk rockers imitating The Beatles in Hamburg as teenagers in strip clubs on meth. Which is awesome. This limp nonsense is supposed to evoke the world that Stu Sutcliffe left the band for, the heady intellectualism of jazz. But Coltrane Don Was ain't.

153. She - Green Day from 'Dookie'

This was a breakthrough song for these guys and I have never liked it a bit.

154. Sorry - Patty Larkin from 'Regrooving The Dream'

I don't remember hearing this song. While she's on I suppose she's fine, good voice, good guitar playing, good production, but I forget her and I vaguely resent her for trying to make me remember.

155. Your Time Is Gonna Come - Led Zeppelin from 'Led Zeppelin I'

And a giant stomps the countryside.

156. Ticket To Ride - The Beatles from '1'

But fails to crush this hardy bunch of travelers who roam from town to town charming the villagers with their harmonies and verve.

157. If You Wear That Velvet Dress - U2 from 'Pop'

True to form I like the one album that U2 fans have very little use for. It's all wrong and that's why I like it.

158. Cousin Sally Brown - Doc Watson from 'The Doc Watson Family'

A violin and then some serious strumming. Gorgeous.

159. Welcome To The Jungle - Guns N' Roses from 'Appetite For Destruction'

What can be said about this song? These guys came along at a time when anything that smacked of heavy metal was a total JOKE and they blew all that shit out of the water. Everyone credits Nirvana with banishing hair bands from the mainstream but Guns N' Roses struck the first blow.

160. Sadly Mistaken - Pimp Fu from 'Raw Fushi...t'

Timothy moved from Brooklyn and left a treasure trove of weirdness behind that I then digitized. Here he makes an answering machine message out of the Emperor from Star Wars...hilarious.

161. Wrecking Ball - Neil Young from 'Freedom'

Neil is at the top of his game here. I first got into this album in France when I took the CD out of the University of Orleans library.

162. Sold You An Alibi - Superdrag from 'Head Trip In Every Key'

Stumbling onto this band at Cat's Cradle with Melody is still one of the more joyous musical moments I've ever had. Spoon has shot to major fame but these guys are just as deserving. I hope the world catches on.

163. On Broadway - Neil Young from 'Freedom'

Staggering.

164. Super Bad - James Brown from '20 All Time Greatest Hits!'

Yes, James. Yes, you are super bad.

165. Blue Line Swinger - Yo La Tengo from 'Prisoners Of Love (Disc 2)'

Tedious.

166. All Shook Down - The Replacements from 'All Shook Down'

In hindsight and in context this song gets more heartbreaking with every listen.

167. Nothing Of The Kind - Jimmie Dale Gilmore from 'Spinning Around The Sun'

This album is like an oasis that rises up out of the desert, seems to be a mirage, and then is not. It is real.

168. Drive All Night - Bruce Springsteen from 'The River (Disc 2)'

If he says 'baby' or 'darlin' or one more time I'm gonna...okay, I'm not gonna do anything but I wish I could.

169. Lullabye - Ben Folds Five from 'The Unauthorized Biography Of Reinhold Messner'

I have yet to hear a song from Ben Folds that does not move me. Plus Melody used to serve him coffee in Chapel Hill and she said he was a nice guy.

170. So What! - Jane's Addiction from 'Kettle Whistle'

Perry Farrell strikes me as something of a bully. And if you are gonna be a bully you'd better back it up. And he doesn't really back it all the way up. So what indeed.

171. Black Man - Stevie Wonder from 'Songs In The Key Of Life (Disc 2)'

Not a great song. There are songs about race that are great songs. This is not one of them. Just because something is socially conscious doesn't make it great art.

While I was writing this blog a call came through to the office and a sad man threatened me and tried to scare me. I laughed at him. I don't think he liked that. The lawyer representing him is on vacation and something about his case had upset him. He is a small human being. Maybe he'll grow but I doubt it.

Rainy Friday Written On A Saturday, Also Rainy

2010-12-18T13:24:00.000-08:00

This might be a first. In all of my years of blogging I don't think I ever once have written on a weekend. I get to work, settle in, grab a coffee and some peanut butter pretzels and get down to typing.

But today Melody is off at a Guess Christmas party, Cashel is asleep in Santa Monica after an all night laser tag Boy Scout gathering, laundry is running and I already watched 'Afrosaumurai: Resurrection'.

Which I highly recommend. The series is amazing and this movie picks up where that left off. Fantastic.

These songs I listened to yesterday as I traipsed around Santa Monica in the rain filing legal papers at the Court House. A mis-communication meant that I had to walk over there twice. More songs to write about!

122. No Offense - Jack Logan from 'Mood Elevator'

He croons this song right down into the ground. A curlicue of a lament rolls out of a thick guitar amplifier and he tells the woman who has just broken his heart that he doesn't blame her at all. He's just surprised she stuck it out that long. A terribly sad beautiful song.

123. Jealousy - Iggy Pop from 'American Caesar'

Great for two minutes. It is six minutes long.

124. Ecstasty - PJ Harvey from 'Rid Of Me'

For a few seconds I couldn't place this song and I thought it was some deep Zeppelin track I was forgetting. That should give you an indication of how hard this song rocks and how good this album is. If she had kept mining these hills she'd be a legend by now.

125. My Friend Goo - Sonic Youth from 'Goo'

The sound on this album is killer, buffed and shined within an inch of its life. Longtime fines thought they were selling out or some such nonsense but song after song on this album jumps out and grabs you by the throat. And Kim Gordon is the all-time underrated female bombshell rock singer.

126. It's Maria's Heart - The Mahoneys from 'Live From The 20th Century'

I wrote this song for Maria when she was still married, before she'd left him to be with me, before we moved in together in Providence, before we broke up and I moved to New York, before we got back together and she moved down to be with me, before we got married, before we had Cashel, before we got divorced. So, yeah, kind of an important song in my repertoire. And one of my best.

127. The Ghost Of A Smile - The Pogues from 'Hell's Ditch'

128. Paul Rosenberg (Skit) - Eminem from 'The Eminem Show'

Eminem has guns.

129. Bottom Of The Barrel - Amos Lee from 'Amos Lee'

It is very hard to fall asleep while walking in the rain but Amos Lee just made it happen to me.

130. More News At 11 - Public Enemy from 'Apocalypse 91...The Enemy Strikes Black'

I'm sure as shit awake now. Flava goes off in this song, just one of many perfect tracks on this angry brutal album.

131. With A Child's Heart - Stevie Wonder from 'For Once In My Life/Uptight'

Meaning, "Give me that toy, it's MINE!" Or deliberately throwing food onto the ground in a fancy restaurant? What type of 'child heart' are you referring to, Stevie?

132. Parameters - Ani DiFranco from 'Knuckle Down'

Again, very complicated response to Ms. DiFranco, sometimes contradicting responses within a line. But this one makes me cringe from the beginning with the hackneyed overwrought phrases she forces over a sinuous groove.

133. Cecilia - Simon & Garfunkel from 'Simon & Garfunkel Greatest Hits'

I have always resented Garfunkel. Like, what do you do again? You sing real high just like every other curly haired jerk you used to see singing old folk songs in coffee houses. You just hit the lottery and partnered up with one of the greatest songwriters of all time. Ever hear of Wham, Mr. Garfunkel?

134. The Rain Song - Led Zeppelin from 'Houses Of The Holy'

This song is very appropriate today. Actually, playing this song on a sunny day has been known to cause thunderstorms it is that powerful.

135. Big Black Mariah - Tom Waits from 'Rain Dogs'

More weather appropriate material, this whole album sounds like tap shoes running down an alley in New Orleans in a downpour. Before he became tedious in his quest to reach an apotheosis of quirk, Tom Waits occasionally nailed you to the wall with a strange groove.

136. Driftin' - Eric Clapton from 'From The Cradle'

Eric Clapton, meet Amos Lee. Amos Lee, meet sngazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

137. Roy Rogers - Elton John from 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'

Everyone bemoans the state of modern music and how there are no superstars anymore but the truth is that if Elton John came around today he'd be lucky if he had 5,000 fans on Facebook. No corporate entity in the world could make a star out of this guy, especially when 'Roy Rogers' is the third single off the best album he ever made.

138. Miss Know It All - Scientist from 'Trojan Dub Box Set (Disc 1)'

Every time a song from this box set comes on I feel like I am sitting on a beach with a giant joint in my mouth and I don't have a care in the world.

139. Like Dylan In The Movies - Belle & Sebastian from 'If You're Feeling Sinister'

Undeniable. Easy to poke fun at they are so twee, but every single song is as tight as a drum.

140. New Killer Of America - Bomer-B from 'Out Of Charactor: Act 1, Id City'

Perhaps my creepiest recorded moment. A dirge hip hop track with a wheezy harmonica solo, a haunted keyboard, and lyrics that name-drop Michael Jackson, Cisqo, Comerica Park, San Francisco, Miller Beer, and Manifest Destiny. Supremely weird.

141. Someone To Watch Over Me - Etta James from 'Time After Time'

More like we need someone to watch over us. Sheesh, this lady could rule the world.

142. Shrunken Head - Jack Logan from 'Bulk (Disc 1)'

Second track from this refrigerator mechanic. Great great song.

143. Gone Fishin' - Louis Armstrong from 'All-Time Greatest Hits'

Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong sing about goin' fishin' together. Yeah, right.

144. So Nice (Summer Samba) - Bebel Gilberto from 'Tanto Tiempo'

Everything this woman records seems designed to make sure that our planet gets populated, if ya catch my drift.

145. Us And Them - Pink Floyd from 'Dark Side Of The Moon'

Sorry, Pink Floyd, I am in neither category. You guys are on your own.

146. All Right, Yeah - Low Light Supercharger from 'Umpg Presents Res Freq Recordings'

A sampler. This is a run-of-the-mill modern rock song.

147. Heading For Light - Traveling Wilburys from 'Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1'

It is hard to imagine how this album came about. Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, Mark Knopfler and Jeff Lynne are all at a cookout. "Hey, know what we should do?" Et voila, instant classic. I bet Bruce Springsteen was mad he wasn't invited.

148. Give 'Em What They Want - DMX from 'Umpg: Current And Upcoming Singles...'

What the inside of Michael Vick's brain sounds like.

149. Never Is A Promise - Fiona Apple from 'Tidal'

Well, I wish you'd kept it, Fiona, because this is a piece of garbage. I can see these lyrics printed out in your diary with the name of whoever the guy is surrounded in hearts and crossed out, all right alongside a description of 7th period gym class. Juvenile in the worst way, the way that says, "I am the only one who has EVER felt any pain." Mothers all over the country roll their eyes upon hearing this song and can't wait for their 14 year old daughters to go to college.

150. L'ame Slave - Jacques Higelin from 'Boris Vian Et Ses Interpretes'

Oh, French people. You try, you really try hard and it is cute.

151. I Cry Alone - The Black Keys from 'thickfreakness'

Damn. I overlooked these fellas at first because they came out around the same time as The White Stripes (White, Black, duos, electric blues) and I lumped them together. Turns out I love The Black Keys and have tired of The White Stripes. These are classic songs, the sonic equivalent of souped up Mustangs on deserted roads.

And so a Saturday post is finally achieved. See ya Monday.

Migraines And Mineral Water

2010-12-17T08:51:00.000-08:00

Migraines have plagued me for several years now. For a time I thought it must be some reaction to the West Coast but the more I thought about it the more I realize that I've been getting migraines just about my whole life.

When they start to creep up the back of my skull, the best I can do is take a couple of Excedrin Migraine pills and bolt back a gallon of mineral water. One for the head, the other for the stomach that starts to follow crazy orders from the deranged general who has taken over the control center of my brain.

My iPod is like that remedy only I take it to fend off the atmosphere of the bus. Recently a handsome guy who looked like a Brazilian soccer player yelled at a guy for breathing too loud and there is a certain female bus driver who honks the horn so indiscriminately and for reasons so impossible to discern that I've started to wonder if she is trying to contact some dead relative.
92. Westbound Sign - Green Day from 'Insomniac'

Oh I'll give ya a westbound sign. I see it every day I get on this big red motherfucker.

93. Better Version Of Me - Fiona Apple from 'Extraordinary Machine'

Speaking from my own history as a songwriter I can say that there are certain songs that so perfectly express a part of me that they seem to BE that part of me. I would venture to guess that this is a song like that for Fiona Apple, the final rendering of a lifelong attempt to name something.

94. No Quarter - Led Zeppelin from 'Houses Of The Holy'

Okay, for a while I couldn't place this song and when Robert Plant started singing it shocked me because I thought it was something that came out very recently. The fuzzy keyboard, the funky backbeat...it's as if I stumbled into Beck's diary. "God, if I could only record something as cool as 'No Quarter' maybe the Scientologists will let me go..."

95. Serious - Gwen Stefani from 'Love, Angel, Music, Baby'

I hate the rock band Bush so much that it has affected my view of Gwen Stefani that she married that hack. It'd be like Meryl Streep hooking up with Screech. But comparing her to Streep is too kind, more like Rachel McAdams or someone like that. The pool looks like it has a deep end until you realize it is a trick of the light.

96. Big Pimpin'/Papercut - Linkin Park & Jay-Z from 'Collision Course'

What an odd combo and yet it works like a charm. Linkin Park has a big sound and Jay-Z just hops on top and rides it like a surfer. The reverse isn't quite true, especially since Linkin Park's whiny woe-is-me lyrics just don't fit sick beats as well. Like, dude, maybe you should TRY boasting a bit if you're gonna collaborate with the greatest trash talker of all time? Instead of going on about how unfair this world is? Really? It's unfair that you're doing a song with Jay-Z? Fucking ingrates.

97. Eight Line Poem - David Bowie from 'Bowie Live At The Beeb (Disc 2)'

Um, I don't care how many lines it is if it doesn't have a melody that I can remember. God, he was annoying until he became awesome.

98. Ain't No Right - Jane's Addiction from 'Kettle Whistle'

My reaction to Jane's Addiction is always very complicated. I know I'm supposed to like them and part of me does, they certainly have a vast power. But Perry Farrell just puts me off. In a big way.

99. Up The Beach - Jane's Addiction from 'Kettle Whistle'

Wow. Thanks iPod. Kick me when I'm down. And also make me admit my hypocrisy because I got swept away by this song. The deeper the track the better when it comes to Jane's.

100. Ophelia - The Band from 'The Best Of The Band'

Robbie Robertson is the great lost guitar player. He should be mentioned in the same breath as Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Richard Thompson. But The Band was such a band that you weren't really supposed to notice that anyone in particular was doing anything IN particular. They were just The Band. I love the image of Robbie in Canada playing in a mean R&B outfit with a fellow on bass named Rick James. In the '60's. Holy shit that makes me smile.

101. Right Back Here In My Arms - Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 1)'

Usually there are a couple of songs on every Prince album that make me cringe. And blush. And not because they are sexy. More like you caught some geek in the band room jerking off to a picture of himself in a dress. But the three disc 'Emancipation' has exactly zero weak spots. This is a killer song.

102. We Getz Down - Rampage from 'Heavy Turbulence - Music From Elektra'

This is a sampler. This is a rap song by a group from Brooklyn. I'm guessing that because they say they are from Brooklyn roughly 87 times in four and a half minutes.

103. Dig A Pony - The Beatles from 'Let It Be'

I didn't hear this song until I was a grown ass man. So pissed off about that.

104. John Hardy - Leadbelly from 'Good Night Irene'

This seems to be the genesis for 'House Of The Rising Sun'. Leadbelly sounds like he's singing from inside a volcano. And the volcano is scared.

105. Summers Torture - Bull Cancer from '...Meets The Brown Recluse of Hwy. 54'

Remember what I said about the Fiona Apple song? This is one of those songs for me, by me. I wrote it in Santa Fe in a fever of longing and despair.

106. Seven Bridges Road - Dolly Parton from 'Little Sparrow'

Hey, Taylor Swift, get a load of this. Just know that if Kanye West had ever interrupted Dolly, she'd have thrown him into a headlock and kicked him in the balls. So quit yer bitchin'.

107. Mess - Ben Folds Five from 'The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner'

Guy doesn't write a bad song. Period.

108. The Toys Go Winding Down - Primus from 'Frizzle Fry'

Soft spot for these guys but they can be tedious.

109. Roast Fish & Cornbread - Lee "Scratch" Perry from 'Roast Fish Collie Weed & Corn Bread'

"Scratch" must have a publicist working because I have recently read two profiles of him, one in Rolling Stone and one in the LA Weekly. He is certainly a fascinating figure and someone who literally towers over dub and reggae music having virtually invented both. Um, and then he also produced The Clash and he lives in a mansion in Switzerland and saves all his urine. So there's that.

110. Pay To Play (Demo) - Nirvana from 'With The Lights Out (Disc 2)'

I always look at demo tracks as little glimpses into the private heart of whatever artist recorded them. And even in his most sheltered moments Kurt Cobain was destined for mass appeal. Somehow he recoiled at that, longed to be an obscure but highly regarded success like Sonic Youth. But he was more The Beatles than Leonard Cohen and you can hear it in the things he recorded that he never intended anyone to hear.

111. Through It All - Andre Williams from 'Silky'

The Black Godfather.

112. Somebody To Love - Queen from 'Greatest Hits'

What heaven sounds like.

113. St. Jimmy - Green Day from 'American Idiot'

I am still surprised that Green Day managed to leave their snot-nosed past behind them and did so by recording an album that is now sung on Broadway. Perhaps the most unlikely story in rock ever.

114. Things Are What You Make Of Them - Bishop Allen from 'Marlboro: The 2nd Sessions'

This is a sampler I must have found or bought and I can't remember the song.

115. That's The Way - Tom Waits from 'The Black Rider'

At least it is only a minute eight seconds.

116. How To Disappear Completely - Radiohead from 'Kid A'

I always felt like Pink Floyd was a fraud. When it came to Pink Floyd I was definitely a Jew. Well, the Messiah is here.

117. Throw Your Hatred Down - Neil Young from 'Mirrorball'

Neil with Pearl Jam. Boring.

118. Blew - Nirvana from 'Bleach'

There is a giant hole on this album where you can hear Dave Grohl just shaking his head and saying, "Wait til you guys get a load of me."

119. Love Ain't For Keeping - The Who from 'Who's Next'

It's not? Why not?

120. Rising Sign - Mike Doughty from 'Skittish'

Every song a diamond but you feel the years it waited, you sense the lump of coal regretting all those years down in the dirt.

121. Men In Black - Frank Black from 'The Cult Of Ray'

Frank loves UFOs.

Migraine gone. Bus ride gone. Thanks, iPod.

Gym, Night Bus, Morning Bus

2010-12-15T09:23:00.000-08:00

As the title of today's post explains, this is a list of the songs I worked out to yesterday at lunch, the songs played on the bus ride home, and the songs played this morning as I came back to work.

I have moved on from David Sedaris and now I am currently reading Michael Chabon's 'The Yiddish Policeman's Union' for the third time. I love this book and it is, along with the iPod, saving me from the shift in bus schedule.

Pumping Iron:

43. Sunglasses At Night - Jaymz Bee's Royal Jelly Orchestra from 'Cocktail: Shakin' And Stirred'

This whole album makes me laugh. It came out during that whole odd cocktail party fad period when everyone was learning to make Screaming Vikings and insisting that their friends come over dressed in zoot suits and chiffon dresses. My thought is that if everyone has to put on a costume and it isn't Halloween you probably don't have the friendships you THINK you do. But this album is great. Like the best cheesy big band wedding band you've ever seen taking incongruous bad/good hits and sleeking them up until they are barely recognizable.

44. Memories Can't Wait - Living Colour from 'Vivid'

This is the best moment on this album and that is because it is a Talking Heads song.

45. On A Plain - Nirvana from 'Nevermind'

Sometimes a Nirvana song comes and goes and I don't think about the suicide of Kurt Cobain. This is not one of them. Sometimes it makes me angry, sometimes sad, and sometimes I move past those into simply wondering what he would be up to if he'd given himself the permission to enjoy this world and his talent in it. Oh, what do you know, I'm back to being angry.

46. Heart Of Gold - Neil Young from 'Harvest'

Is Mt. Rushmore a good statue? Kind of doesn't matter because it's a fucking mountain.

47. Glasshouse Tarot - Sparta from 'Wiretap Scars'

These guys get so much right. The production is impeccable, the playing is ferocious, the song titles are obscure and disturbing, but I get the impression that deep down they wish they were Van Halen. Just write a song about tits, fellas, you'll feel better.

48. Kosciusko - Midnight Oil from 'Red Sails In The Sunset'

I guess I don't think these Aussies get the full respect they deserve. Somehow they got lumped in with U2 back in the day, maybe because they wrote political songs that cried out against injustice. But U2 were great demagogues and propagandists. Midnight Oil were writing about obscure land grabs and mining towns rendered violent after Aboriginal/White Man conflagrations. I find myself WANTING to tune out because it is like being trapped by some righteous history professor. But the music always wins me over. If the lead singer weren't some giant bald freak they might be leading the charge on 3rd World Debt right alongside Bono Vox. Whose real name is fucking Paul, okay?

49. Paperwings - Damien Jurado & Gathered In Song from 'I Break Chairs'

Real deal. Great singer, great songs, great records. Heartbreaking and passionate in small and big ways simultaneously.

Night Bus:

50. Talkin' 'Bout You (Live) - Ray Charles from 'Ray Charles Live'

He just makes everybody else look bad. Period.

51. Everybody Hit The Ground - Poppa Foxtrot from 'Poppa Foxtrot'

Cousin Timothy does it again, a strange disturbing back beat threaded with helicopter and strange beeps and buzzes. It makes you feel as if you are being pursued by crooked cops.

52. The Ways Of A Woman In Love - Johnny Cash from 'The Sun Years'

Talk about Mt. Rushmore, holy shit. Every single one of these songs is ultimate perfection. You could run a train on the groove they lay down. You can tell it is all live. They recorded the song a whole bunch of times and then tried to figure out which lump of gold was the biggest. All the overproduced modern country singers should be forced to take off their makeup and sit the hell down and listen to this.

53. You Bowed Down (Demo) - Elvis Costello from 'All This Useless Beauty (Bonus Disc)'

I don't know when it happened but I had to jump off the Elvis train somewhere back down the line. Consequently I have missed his most prodigious output as he has been unbelievably prolific in the past ten years. Hearing this demo made me think I have a lot of catching up to do.

54. Theme From Tokyo - bis from 'Social Dancing'

I remember someone saying this band was going to be the next big thing. Somehow I came across a promotional copy of this 1999 album put out by the now defunct Beastie Boys label Grand Royal. All I'll say is there is something missing.

55. Three Days - Willie Nelson from 'Crazy: The Demo Sessions'

I was all excited to hear these tracks which Willie was laying down before anyone knew who he was in Nashville. But after I heard them all I could think was, well, of course no one knew who he was. These are half-baked boring songs that barely hint at the full-blown artistry that was just around the corner. He was not being himself.

56. Brothers In Arms - Dire Straits from 'Money For Nothing'

This song has come up a bunch of times lately on the ol' iPod shuffle and I usually skip it because I just don't want to hear Mark Knopfler talk about post traumatic stress disorder and soldiers. But in spite of that, he got me. Beautiful song, beautiful guitar playing, beautiful production. And this band was so huge he could have simply rode that wave forever and instead he broke it down so far people barely know who he is anymore. Strange.

57. Bowtie (Postlude) - Big Boi from 'Speakerboxx'

'Idlewild' is a terrible movie but these guys are the shit.

58. Fell In Love With A Girl - The White Stripes from 'White Blood Cells'

I have come to the conclusion that I simply don't care. It all started with the Bond song he did with Alicia Keys. Sounds like a great idea, right? Wrong. I never liked her but I was excited about the strange pairing of these two very different artists. It merely wound up pointing out both of their flaws. He only writes one song and she has style but no soul. As my Mum would say, "Big fakers."

59. Trust - Prince from 'Batman'

The anticipation of this movie cannot be overstated. Michael Keaton was a HUGE star, Jack Nicholson is Jack Nicholson, the world was still abuzz over Kim Basinger's breasts in 9 1/2 Weeks, and Tim Burton was the weirdo ready to take over the world...and Prince had not yet renounced his name and gone freaky.

And what happened? It was a massive hit. Which was not the definitive Batman. And the Prince songs? Not definitive Prince. The only definitive part of the whole thing was Nicholson. And spare me the Heath Ledger crap, okay? Yes, he was great but if you transplanted Nicholson into 'The Dark Knight' he'd have been just as revelatory.

And while we're on the subject, 'The Dark Knight' is NOT an important movie. Batman is not a metaphor for our souls. He's a CARTOON. So tired of people talking about that franchise as if it is some sort of cultural touchstone. Don't get me wrong, I love both Nolan Batman movies. But, really, you'd think it was '2001: A Space Odyssey' or 'Apocalypse Now' for chrissakes. IT'S BATMAN.

60. Goin' Out West - Tom Waits from 'Bone Machine'

Great song, great album. I just wish he'd followed it up with something slick and mainstream and accessible just to fuck with everybody. Instead he's gotten successively weirder until it's like some sort of contest to see how weird he can be. You think that was weird? Get a load of this song...it's a bout a spider who becomes the pope but then gets kidnapped by a roving gang of circus performers who are dedicated to the works of Machiavelli combined with manuals that describe how farm machinery works. I recorded it one day when I threw myself into a grain silo!

Hey, Tom, here's an idea...do a duet with Beyonce!

61. Open - The Cure from 'Wish'

They have outlasted everybody else and are now in Rolling Stones land where they put out the same album over and over and then tour the world for millions playing songs they wrote thirty years ago.

62. I Know You Know - Lyle Lovett from 'Lyle Lovett And His Large Band'

Take the rant I just wrote for Tom Waits and reverse it for Lyle Lovett. Fuck shit up, Lyle. It's too on the nose.

63. The 6-Teens - Sweet from 'The Best Of Sweet'

This is one of the most ridiculous songs of all time, chronicling the important story of a couple of hippies named Bobby and Billy or Billy and Jimmy or Bobby and Jilly who thought they were going to change the world in '68. But oh so much fun in the badness. Plus I don't know how these guys sing so high.

64. Brother Woodrow/Closing Prayer - The Afghan Whigs from 'Gentlemen'

This is a killer album, one that sucks me in ever time, one that I try to be cynical about but can't be once it starts playing. There are douchebags in love with the idea of being douchebags, a phase that a lot of guys go through. Guys are systematically taught to deny their feelings and intimidate. This album is the exultation of one of these assholes all grown up, right before something happens that will make him realize he has thrown his life away. What makes it interesting is that it is BEFORE he has the realization. Somehow The Afghan Whigs pull this off, a whole album that never really admits what we can't help but see. Brave and challenging.

65. River's Gonna Rise - David & David from 'Welcome To The Boomtown'

I love this album. And I love that these two sidemen briefly took over the world.

66. Electro-Shock Blues - Eels from 'Electro-Shock Blues'

I simply have no sympathy today.

67. Fruit Of The Vine - Jim White from 'Famous Shovels In Twain'

I don't know where I got this album from and this song reminds me of the annoying grown-up who tries to hijack a three year old's birthday party by cracking open the Pete Seeger songbook. Sit down ya pinko commie.

68. Never Leave My Rhyme Book Without My House - Pimp Fu from 'Raw Fushi...t'

I produced this album so I suppose I'm biased but I love every one of the 33 crazy tracks on it. Someday soon I'll get around to putting up a website devoted to the incredibly music my cousin makes and then you will all understand.

69. Safeway Cart - Neil Young & Crazy Horse from 'Sleeps With Angels'

Kurt Cobain quoted Neil Young in his suicide note. Neil Young recorded this album for him in response. Need I say more?

70. Margin Walker - Fugazi from '13 Songs'

One of the greatest rock songs of ALL time. I can't ever say enough about Fugazi.

71. It Makes No Difference - The Band from 'The Best Of The Band'

A killer ballad from The Band. Seriously, who could pull of naming themselves The Band? We are The Band. Not a band, not a band named...but simply The Band. This is a heartbreakingly sad song.

Morning Bus:

72. The Scientist - Coldplay from 'A Rush Of Blood To the Head'

I didn't care about these guys one way or another, still don't really, but this song will always have a special place in my heart. I stepped off the plane from NYC here in LA to do my cousin Mike's play 'Searching For Certainty'. It was a huge break for me. I went right to Mike's house and he gave me a mix of songs to listen to that had informed the latest draft of the play. He wanted me to take them to heart.

I went out into his guest house. It wasn't a rehearsal or anything but I was WORKING. And those 45 minutes set the whole process off for me in a profound way. Some of the songs I knew, some were new to me. I don't think I knew what Coldplay sounded like so this song wasn't tainted by any scorn I might have had for them as an entity. It was the straw that broke the camel's back and I broke down and cried for what the character I'd be playing had lost, what he'd endured, what he still hoped for in spite of it all.

And I cried a little bit just for me.

73. A Change Is Gonna Come - Graham Parker from '1989 Live! Alone In America'

Love this album. Great version of the classic soul protest song from Sam Cooke.

74. Smile - Weezer from 'Weezer (Green Album)'

These guys have curdled for me like a sweet cheese with too much sugar. Only the sweetness keeps it from being completely moldy and gross. But when they get it right there is nobody better.

75. Closer To The Heart - Jaymz Bee's Royal Jelly Orchestra from 'Cocktail: Shakin' And Stirred'

Ludicrous.

76. Darling Nikki - Prince from 'Purple Rain'

Still shocking. Still a great song.

77. Have A Drink On Me - AC/DC from 'Back In Black'

Thank you, I will.

78. Torture - The Replacements from 'Don't Tell A Soul'

I wore this album out as I jetted off to France nursing a broken heart.

79. Red-Haired Mary - The Clancy Brothers And Tommy Makem from 'In Concert'

When these guys get rolling it is a total blast.

80. The Kid In The Well - Lenny Bruce from 'The Lenny Bruce Originals - Volume 1'

Impossible to explain.

81. You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch) - Bruce Springsteen from 'The River (Disc 1)'

Yawn.

82. Give It Up - Amos Lee from 'Amos Lee'

Very talented guitar player, very talented singer...boring ass songs.

83. It's About Time - The Lemonheads from 'Come On Feel The Lemonheads'

Way underrated.

84. I Can Love You Better - Dixie Chicks from 'Wide Open Spaces'

Whenever I hear these gals now I can't help but think of the documentary about them, 'Shut Up And Sing' in which they face the backlash from the comment made by the lead singer about George Bush. I kind of don't care about all that but the fiddle playing sister was fascinating to me. She seems to know somewhere deep inside that she is the luckiest chick on earth so she wanders around saying vague things about wanting to make sure that they always evolve and what if this is the best we'll ever be and wah wah wah. I wanted to smack her and say, 'Look, bitch, you won the fuckin' lottery, quit yer bitchin'.'

I know the title of the documentary was supposed to be a poke in the eye at the right wingers who were attacking them for expressing their views about Bush but I kind of wound up agreeing with it. Shut up and sing.

85. Back In The U.S.S.R. - The Beatles from 'The Beatles Disc 1'

In one song they pack The Beach Boys up in a nice little package and tell them how it is done. The original rap feud.

86. When Big Joan Sets Up - Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band from 'Trout Mask Replica'

I remember reading about this mysterious album in Rolling Stone where it was named one of the Top Ten Albums of all time. I was in high school and I'd never heard of these guys, how could they have made one of the top ten albums of all time? I don't know about top ten but it is certainly magnificent. And nearly impossibly to listne to.

87. Chinatown - Jets To Brazil from 'Orange Rhyming Dictionary'

These guys are for me like those hammers they hit your knees with to see how your reflexes are. No matter how much I gird myself I'm never ready for it.

88. Dumb - Nirvana from 'MTV Unplugged In New York'

Amazing that he pulled this show off considering how far down the rabbit hole he'd already fallen. Oh, mad again.

89. Lucky Day - Tom Waits from 'The Black Rider'

See above. Beyonce, are you listening?

90. ...And Justice For All - Metallica from '...And Justice For All'

This was the album that brought these guys across the metal divide. They would drive that spike through our collective hearts on the next one, the black album 'Metallica', but this one made people nervous. Like, metal bands aren't supposed to write 9 minute epics about war veterans. Where are the girls in bikinis and pussy jokes? As much as I love this album, it is clear that they desperately needed an editor. Enter Bob Rock. Rock history ensues.

91. Power & The Passion - Midnight Oil from '10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1'

Boy, that's an annoying title to type. But a great song. Great album.

Whew. Finished with those segments. Next up I'll be off to the gym to begin the three-pronged iPod shuffle pattern all over again.

No More 920 Bus

2010-12-14T10:37:00.000-08:00

Today I've been dreading for a while now. The city has seen fit to discontinue the 920 Express Bus which only makes these stops between Koreatown and Santa Monica: Vermont, Western, Fairfax, Beverly, Westwood, 4th Street. I get on an empty bus at Vermont, by Western it's full, it empties and slightly refills at Westwood, and 4th Street is the end of the line. The official reasoning is that the line isn't necessary and not enough people use it. But since it is fucking packed every day I don't get it.

So now I get the joy of the 720 Local instead. It has already made a number of stops before I get on at Vermont so it isn't empty and I am not assured a seat. It stops every few blocks. I can't tell you how disheartening this prospect is. The only upside is that I will be spending MUCH more time on the bus now so my "Listen To My Whole iPod Once Through On Random Project" will end quicker than I originally thought.

The first few songs on today's list, though, I actually listened to YESTERDAY at my daily lunch workout at the YMCA.

20. Murder Game - P$C from 'Hustle & Flow'

This is a great soundtrack. Great movie. If the music wasn't GREAT and I mean GREAT the movie would be TERRIBLE. Because you have to believe in the power of D-Jay as a rap artist or else it is an exercise in delusion. This is one of those Dirty South criminal anthems that have you tapping your toes and furtively looking over your shoulder to make sure there isn't a cold blooded killer standing there with a gun and a smile on his face.

21. Blueberry Hill - Louie Armstrong from 'All-Time Greatest Hits'

Being a kid who loved blueberries with an unadulterated passion, I always thought this song was about blueberries. That the hill was covered with blueberries and THAT was Louie's thrill.

22. Going Down - Ani DiFranco from 'Dilate'

I am truly conflicted about Ani DiFranco. From moment to moment I alternately love her and am 100% annoyed. Her guitar playing is instantly recognizable and unique, her singing occasionally rivals the worst bullshit you see in self-indulgent acting classes. Her lyrics are intricate and heartbreaking, her delivery of same reminds me of a stand-up comedian trying to do Hamlet. Oh, Ani, you confuse me so.

23. Alright Hear This - The Beastie Boys from 'Ill Communication'

I saw The Beastie Boys do the Lollapalooza tour in 1994. I still think they are the reason why Smashing Pumpkins have slid to the dustbin of our collective memory. Some genius had the idea that The Beastie Boys weren't the headliners. Smashing Pumpkins had to follow this frenetic frenzied instrument switching hyperactive pranksters and it was as if an angry waiter dumped a turd into my bowl of sugar cereal. People started streaming out of the fairgrounds in droves, preferring to hit the port-a-potty so they could get out of there to listening to one-note Johnny and the My-Life-Is-So-Hards.

24. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Demo) - Nirvana from 'With The Lights Out (Disc 2)'

My workout ended just as this song began and I have to admit that I thought I'd just skip it the next morning when I got back on the bus. But I found myself listening to it this morning with a new found sense of awe. This band in its raw unfiltered state was truly something to behold.

25. Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing - Stevie Wonder from 'Innervisions'

I discovered this album in college and went crazy for it. Still going crazy for it.

26. Waterloo Sunset - The Kinks from 'The Ultimate Collection (Disc 1)'

Terry Reid. Broke my heart singing this song at Big Mondays.

27. Drain You - Nirvana from 'From The Muddy Banks Of The Wishkah'

And here they go again. A tsunami of melody trapped inside one of those giant machines that crush cars in junkyards.

28. I'm Not There - Buffalo Tom from 'Let Me Come Over'

Sorry guys, following 'Drain You' this sounds like a piece of cotton candy blowing away in a light breeze. It's actually a great song but in this case you're like Smashing Pumpkins following The Beastie Boys. Nothing could follow 'Drain You'.

29. Uptight (Everything's Alright) - Stevie Wonder from 'For Once In My Life/Uptight'

Joy on wheels.

30. Stranger In Moscow - Michael Jackson from 'HIStory (Disc 2)'

Even his capitalization of HIS in HIStory is weird. HIS tory? What's a tory, Michael? What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? The thing that fascinates me about this guy is how personal and weird his music is...

It is either a massive diversionary tactic of musical propaganda designed to make me stop believing he liked little boys or it's...nope, it's a massive diversionary tactic of musical propaganda designed to make me stop believing he liked little boys.

31. Good Day - Paul Westerberg from 'Open Season Soundtrack'

Another weird non-success/success story for Mr. Westerberg. This song first appeared on his album 'Eventually' which was ignored on a giant scale by fans and newcomers alike. It's inclusion on this soundtrack is perfect thematically, his other songs on the album are hilarious ('Right To Arm Bears'???) but 'Lion King' it ain't. The kids probably wondered why a guy with a cold was singing alongside Ashton Kutcher.

32. I Typed For Miles - Jets To Brazil from 'Orange Rhyming Dictionary'

Sand and heat is bad for heartbreak. They don't believe in the mirage that has lingered in front of them for so long out there on the plain of desert. Where they came from is better than where they'll wind up but it is all diminishing returns so why not just keep moving forward?

33. The Fool On The Hill - The Beatles from 'Magical Mystery Tour'

They make EVERYONE ELSE LOOK STUPID.

34. Sometimes It's You - Jack Logan from 'Bulk (Disc 1)'

This is fine but I am bored.

35. War - Big Boi from 'Speakerboxx'

Sleek and scary.

36. Lovin' You Lots And Lots - The Norm Wooster Singers from 'That Thing You Do!'

Tom Hanks!!!

37. Love - Destiny's Child from 'Destiny Fulfilled'

When we were doing the West Coast Premiere of 'Diverting Devotion', Melody and I were acting together in extremely painful scenes. To counter this emotional drudgery, we listened to Destiny's Child in the car on the way to the theater.

38. Spin The Black Circle - Pearl Jam from 'Vitalogy'

Listen to Husker Du much? Every time I hear this riff it sounds like song number thirteen on 'Zen Arcade' and I get excited. Then Eddie starts looking in the mirror and trying to cry and it gets old real fast.

39. Emancipation - Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 3)'

Mr. Numerology released all three discs and made sure each had 12 songs and lasted exactly 1 hour each. What that means I have no idea but this song is funky.

40. Backstreets - Bruce Springsteen from 'Born To Run'

I've written about my feelings about the E Street Band before. I don't believe a note of what they play except on 'Born In The U.S.A.' because he wasn't asking them to be some BAND, they were just players executing the music to the best of their ability. Bruce seems to want to be in The Rolling Stones but really he's more like Bob Seeger to Silver Bullet. Stop pretending you're in The Clash when you are a solo artist.

41. Wayfaring Stranger - Eva Cassidy from 'Songbird'

I love this song. She overdoes it a bit.

42. In The Fade - Queens Of The Stone Age from 'Rated R'

With Mark Lanegan of Screaming Trees lending his eerie bleak croon to the QOTSA whirlpool, a whole new vortex of sound opens up. The stoner reputation they have means they are not taken seriously enough which I suppose is fine with them but history will be much more appreciative. This is complex deep dark stuff.

Later today I'll get back on the 720 local and continue my quest.

One Long Shuffle

2010-12-13T10:59:00.000-08:00

If I understand the technology correctly (and this is a large assumption to make), the iPod, when instructed to "shuffle", arranges everything on the iPod in a random order and then plays. Theoretically, it would play every song on the iPod. I will be testing this theory of mine in the least scientific and most circuitous route possible. Meaning that this morning as I stood and waited for my bus, I hit shuffle and I intend to let the iPod play that shuffle until it is finished. It played 19 songs this morning as I bounced my way from Koreatown to Santa Monica. 19 of 6,973.

I then paused it as I got to work. I will start it up again when I go work out at the gym. I will then pause it after I finish sculpting myself into the form of a Greek God. A slightly pudgy Greek God. I will then start it up again when I get back on the bus...etc. etc. My rule this time is simple. No pausing. No skipping. Even the damn chakra chants. Even The Jam. Even The Backstreet Boys live at The Concert For New York.

And how the hell did they get added to that bill? Just what the country needed in the wake of 9/11...

How long will it take me to listen to every song on my iPod? We shall find out together.

1. Soul Sanctuary - Prince from 'Emancipation (Disc 2)'

This triple album always makes me sad because Prince was reclaiming his name while he dealt with the death of his newborn child whose heartbeat we hear on a shattering song called "Curious Child". This song is a declaration of love, also rendered quite sad by the dissolution of his marriage sometime thereafter. But a beautiful beautiful love song nonetheless.

2. Nuclear War (Version 1) - Yo La Tengo from 'Prisoners Of Love (Disc 2)'

When Yo La Tengo weave harmonies and dissonant guitar over their oddly funky punk manifestos, I like them. When they chant together for seven minutes over a tired back beat about how bad nuclear war is? I really question my decision to not allow myself to skip any songs. Only 6,971 to go. Shit.

3. Sans Rehearsal - V-Dubs from 'Live At Molly Malone's'

I named this damn band! My good friend Erik Van Wyck is a fantastic actor, writer, film-maker, and father. He is also one of the greatest guitarists I have ever seen. In some other life he is giving John Mayer a run for his money and Eric Clapton is beating down his door to do one last duet that will open up the teen market to him. This is taken from a charity concert at Molly Malone's. We'd played a show together a year or so before in which I insisted on giving everyone in the band a nickname. I was the George Bush of delusional rock stars! From Van Wyck I came up with V-Dub. And he ran with it. This is an unrehearsed jam that ended the show. Normally I blanch at the word JAM but there is no other word to sufficiently capture the raucousness in play. And my cousin Josh Economy blows several doors of several hinges with his trumpet. Shortly after this he would become the trumpet player in THE Army Jazz Band. As in, he's the best trumpet player in the country.

4. Meyer: Short Trip Home - Edgar Meyer, Joshua Bell, Mike Marshall from 'Heartland: An Appalachian Anthology'

This is a gorgeous album of bluegrass mixed with classical arrangement. Yo-Yo Ma shows up somewhere playin' a fiddle for the first time instead of a violin and the whole thing is a testament to the beauty of this country.

5. At Long Last Love - Frank Sinatra from 'Frank Sinatra Sings The Select Cole Porter'

Imagine that you could pinpoint the specific game in which Michael Jordan was at the very pinnacle of his talent. He was great the day before and he'd be great for years to come. But somewhere in his career, the greatest that ever was was the best he ever would be. This album is that game.

6. Bankrobber - The Clash from 'Story Of the Clash, Volume 1 (Disc 1)'

I am still upset about Joe Strummer. Why? No offense, God, but you left Sammy Hagar around and took Joe Strummer from us? You must be a Clash fan.

7. Down The Road - Doc Watson from 'The Doc Watson Family'

I hate to keep ragging on Clapton but this guy makes him look like he never even SAW a guitar.

8. The Origin Of Love - John Cameron Mitchell from 'Hedwig And The Angry Inch OST'

I am one of the lucky few who saw the original production of this legendary play at The Jane Theater down in Greenwich Village. As with many of my finest memories I have my cousin Mike to thank. He was beginning a collaboration with the director of the piece, Peter Askin, on a play called "Searching For Certainty". Peter just directed the film version of that play. Very proud to have been a part of the play and now the movie, albeit in a different part. "Hedwig" was the talk of the town and when I saw it, it was not hard to understand why. I laughed, I wept, I sat on the edge of my seat. This song is so genius that I don't even want to explain it to you. Go listen to the whole thing from beginning to end.

9. Lost Highway - Hank Williams from 'Lonesome Blues'

How was he only in his 20's when he sang this? Honestly, did he time-travel? He sounds 300 years old.

10. Love Untold - Paul Westerberg from 'Eventually'

I HATED this album when it came out. HATED. Boy, was I wrong. I listened to it a couple of times, wrote it off, put it away. Years later, during the difficult time right after the end of my marriage, I begrudgingly gave it another try. And promptly had a nervous breakdown.

11. The Light - The Proclaimers from 'Hit The Highway'

These guys are lovely.

12. Alone Together - The Strokes from 'Is This It?'

Somehow the images of New York that these guys conjure up for me are too painful. I love them, but it hurts to listen to them.

13. Happy Town - The Replacements from 'All Shook Down'

In Replacements-land, this album is not looked on as one of their best. I disagree. I love every song on it and think that, as usual with The Replacements, they did the right thing at the wrong time. Five years later Wilco would make a career based on this blueprint and their best song can't touch the worst one on this album.

14. Sinister Exaggerator - Primus from 'Miscellaneous Debris'

Primus covers The Residents. Weirdness meets weirdness. Sort of points out how weak some of Primus' songs are when they do one by someone else.

15. Walk In The Woods - The Fatima Mansions from 'Lost In The Former West'

The lost great band of the 1990's. This is a monster song.

16. Taper Jean Girl - Kings Of Leon from 'Aha Shake Heartbreak'

They are so popular now that it is no longer in vogue to like them but when you cut through all the hype they are just a great Southern rock band.

17. The Good Life/I Wanna Be Around - Tony Bennett from 'Unplugged'

The piano/upright bass/drum trio backing Tony up are BADASSES TO THE NTH DEGREE. As great as he is, I tune him out a bit and focus on what is holding him up. These guys are killers.

18. Stigmata Martyr - Bauhaus from 'In The Flat Field'

I am a late uneasy convert to the Bauhaus fold. Not sure how I feel about them but it is almost 40 years later and no one sounds like Bauhaus. Totally original. But I don't always like it. Today I do and I get a kick out of the silly religious title.

19. Sickness - Iggy Pop from 'American Caesar'

Give it up, Iggy. Stop working out. Relax.

Part 1 of Project Exhaust IPOD complete. In a half hour I will go to the gym and listen to the next batch.

The Bus Took A Right!!!

2010-12-09T11:02:00.001-08:00

Today the bus took a turn. Big deal, you say. So what?

In my three years of public transportation use in LA, the bus has ventured off of Wilshire Boulevard exactly twice. Once when President Obama was in town and today.

So, yes, big deal. We were at the intersection of Wilshire and La Cienega. We'd sat through three lights already. When the bus driver swung that wheel and brought us off of Wilshire and onto La Cienega it was such a shock that is was like being on a roller coaster.

The day Obama diverted our bus I sat next to a very large black woman who spoke on her cell phone as if she were at a Metallica concert. She began to complain that the bus was being routed along Pico because of the President. She said, "Now I understand why people are changin' they minds about him."

Now months later after he just got rejected by his own party when he tried to extend Bush tax cuts I understand as well.

1. Fields Of Gold - Eva Cassidy

For many years I thought that Eva Cassidy was alive and black. Imagine my surprise to find that she was white and dead. And that she could somehow, from beyond the grave, with white skin, save this Sting song from itself.

2. Old Brown Shoe - The Beatles

I don't remember hearing this song today. We hadn't turned off Wilshire yet and I was engrossed in David Sedaris' hilarious "Dress Your Family In Corduroy And Denim".

3. How Many More Times - Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin could sing the phone book and it would rock. Hard.

4. Molly And Tenbrooks - Sam Bush And Friends

Bluegrass players make me sick. The worst one is better than your favorite guitar player.

5. Season Of The Shark - Yo La Tengo

I am mildly perplexed whenever I see the name Yo La Tengo. I listen, I like. And then they exit my brain COMPLETELY until the next time. They have no staying power in my soul.

6. Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks

I am a late arrival to The Kinks bandwagon and I jumped on because of Terry Reid. For a while Terry Reid sang with Big Mondays out here in LA at The Joint in a band led by Waddy Wachtel. Some of the greatest musical moments I've witnessed happened with that particular group. One of which was Terry Reid singing "Waterloo Sunset". I'd never heard it and it left me almost in tears in the bar. I think I Googled it and was shocked to find out it was The Kinks. I decided then and there that I was a full on convert. In fact I felt guilty that I'd waited so long.

7. My Phone's On Vibrate For You - Rufus Wainwright

If Rufus Wainwright doesn't age gracefully I'm going to be very upset with him. Because I don't think anyone has ever come straight out of the gate with as many perfections as he as. Most artists either warm up over several albums or cool off or take a bad step but this little fucker keeps topping himself. Love love love love love.

8. Enchanting Transylvania - Lenny Bruce

If you have never heard Lenny Bruce you ought to be ashamed of yourself. The greatest ever.

9. Canstlleation Funk - El-P

The "Fantastic Damage" album is one of those sonic clusterfucks that gets gnarlier every time you hear it. It is instantly recognizable when it comes on and while it is impressive music it is disheartening. Why? Claustrophobia, misanthropy, despair, violence, regret, disdain, and psychosis make strange bedfellows with sick beats and dope rhymes.

10. I Get A Kick Out Of You - Dolly Parton

If you think Dolly is all boobs you're an idiot.

11. Mansion On The Hill - Bruce Springsteen

When Bruce nails it he really nails it. This song shoots a painful arrow right into my gut every single time.

12. I Love Paris - Screamin' Jay Hawkins

This guy is truly nuts.

13. My New Town - Jack Logan

More painful arrows in guts.

14. I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself - The White Stripes

15. I Can't Wait - The White Stripes

I wonder if Jack White is living up to his potential.

16. Jilla Done Smell Nice - Pimp Fu

Hahahahaha.

17. Moon River - Oranj Symphonette

Nutjobs.

18. Where Did You Sleep Last Night - Leadbelly

Historic.

19. Basin Street Blues - Miles Davis

Heroin.

See, a detour by the bus was just enough to make me incapable of analysis all the way to the end of the trip. Besides, Sedaris just got funnier and funnier. Now I need a new book.

Tuesday Night, Wednesday Morning

2010-12-08T10:34:00.000-08:00

I am combining two bus rides. I listened to my iPod last night on the ride from Santa Monica to Koreatown, paused the iPod and started it up again this morning as I got on to ride from Koreatown to Santa Monica.

32 songs. Annoyed quite often with the selection I am judging myself.

Except for # 1.

1. The Fat Shit - Poppa Foxtrot

My cousin Timothy was Pimp Fu. Then he decided that Pimp Fu had to go. The military nomenclature dictated that he now be called Poppa Foxtrot. In this song he muses, "I gotta know if ya like the fat shit". I speak for all of us when I say, yes, yes, Poppa, we like the fat shit.

2. It's - King Missile

For some reason the iPod has been sniffing these guys out and while I can still connect to the reasons I loved it in the first place, I am NOT connecting to the music in the present. The chorus of this song goes "It's trite, contrived, and appallingly boring" and indeed it is.

3. Shunned & Falsified - Mike Doughty

I've been disappointed with Doughty outside of this album, "Skittish" which strips away all the bells and whistles and leaves merely his voice and the propulsion of his rhythm guitar. Less is definitely more.

4. Desperate People - Living Colour

I thought Living Colour were going to be the new Rolling Stones or something. Turns out it was The Roots instead.

5. Kissing A Mechanic - Brendan O'Malley

Take the poem I wrote the night I met Melody, add a night of drinking and smoking cigarettes on top of a bronchial infection, throw in a dash of two-chord fuzz, and top it all off with an improvised run on "-anic" and what do you get? 7 minutes of me.

6. Gotta Be Insanity - Ice Cube

Cube rules.

7. Greed - Ice Cube

Cube rules II, a rare back to back from the shuffle.

8. Sathington Waltz - Primus

In the beginning they seemed like the wise prankster who was in on things you didn't know about. By the time album six rolled around they were more like the undisciplined kid next door who thinks you should listen to him sing "Old MacDonald" in a pirate costume. And his parents encourage him.

9. Pembroke - Soul Side

Bland emo-core. Again, good thing David Sedaris' book is so hilarious.

10. Down About It - The Lemonheads

I dig this tune but Juliana Hatfield pipes up on harmony in the middle and ruins it. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me.

11. Blues Before Sunrise - Eric Clapton

No one had the balls to say, "Um, Eric, you know when you growl and try to sound like a big fat black dude? It's kind of embarrassing. And in some obscure way, it's racist and makes us all uncomfortable. Sick guitar playing, but still..."

12. R.A.K.I.M. - Rakim

Whatever.

13. Alison - Pixies

Tight punk. And I ain't talkin' 'bout Alison.

14. KC Accidental - Broken Social Scene

Sonic Youth if fronted by one of the Jonas Brothers. I fell asleep four times in this even though it has eighteen false crescendos.

15. She Loves You - The Beatles

Thank you gentlemen for cleaning my aural palate so thoroughly.

16. What More Can I Say - Jay-Z

Epic, awesome, moving, funny, sleek.

17. Eyes Have Miles - G. Love & Special Sauce

You put something precious in a time capsule. You open it up and no matter how precious it was, it'll still be surrounded by stale air. Hello G. Love. P-U!

18. Dancing Queen - ABBA

See G. Love.

19. Atlantic City - Bruce Springsteen

This is the only track on "Nebraska" that I do not like and it is because you can hear the non-existent echo of the E-Street Band trying to drag Bruce into Mr. Showmanship mode which I've always hated. I only like creepy Bruce or big angry Vietnam Bruce, I despise Mr. We-Want-To-Rock-Your-Backyard-With-Our-Good-Time-Vibe Bruce. Just never believed it for a second. And this track seems to come from that place, where his archetypes curdle into cliche.

20. What Doesn't Belong To Me - Sinead O'Connor

Shut up.

21. Drown Soda - Hole

Shut up, jr.

22. Sinful Love - Blue Oyster Cult

Shut up, III.

23. What's The Difference - Dr. Dre

Ah, like a day at the phat spa. When you strip the vocals from this album it shines even brighter, somehow, like a diamond that is taken and put on a black velvet background.

24. Swimming In The Ocean - David & David

This album holds a very soft spot in my heart for some reason. David & David were the biggest thing in the world for a very short period and it hit me just right. This song is kind of bland but I still like it. It's like the G. Love analogy except someone somehow managed to keep the fart smell from growing inside this time capsule.

25. Lurgee - Radiohead

Hypnotic, the only track I can stand off of "Pablo Honey" which is only interesting to me now because it makes everything that follows such a surprise. Mediocre prog rock.

26. Subterranean Homesick Alien - Radiohead

And, voila. Radiohead arrives.

27. Ziggy Stardust - David Bowie

Today I have no patience for The Thin White Duke or whoever he is. Sometimes I get sucked in and others I am left cold. Today I am freezing.

28. Breath - Pearl Jam

I still associate this album with France as it was given to me before I left and I wore it out over there. In that way it is a pleasant reminder but I have come to cringe at Eddie Vedder's singing. He reminds me of Rob Estes on "Silk Stalkings". So over the top it is enjoyable but you know HE thinks he deserves an Oscar. Occasionally when Eddie really gets into it I picture him dry heaving into his studiously artistic toilet.

29. Primal Ground - Jonathan Goldman

Somehow this album of "Chakra Chants" made its way onto my iPod and I wonder what I can chant to make it disappear.

30. Groove Holmes - The Beastie Boys

Fun fluff.

31. Flower - Liz Phair

This album became a big deal because of her tits but every single song is heartbreaking, funny, sexy, angry, stupid, goofy, meaningful, deep and delirious, all at the same time. If you want to know what it was like to date girls in the early '90's, just pop this one on.

32. What Do You Do - The Proclaimers

GREAT GREAT GREAT GREAT GREAT.

See ya tomorrow.

Sedaris And Exhaust

2010-12-07T09:02:00.000-08:00

I cheated today. I hit shuffle and the first thing that came up was Igor Stravinsky's 'Rite Of Spring'. Don't get me wrong, I love this particular piece of music but 22 minutes is too long to listen to classical music on a rattling bus. So I restarted...to fantastic results.

1. Save Me - Queen

I relate, Freddy.

2. Debbie Denise - Blue Oyster Cult

This song sounds like a high school physics teacher trying to be risque and hip while talking about the periodic table. When I finally get around to updating my gigantic iTunes collection and reconfigure the iPod, Blue Oyster Cult will be banished forever. Fear the reaper, gentlemen.

3. Chain Of Fools - Aretha Franklin

As I listened to Aretha nail this song to the wall and make it fresh even though I've heard it 87 billion times, I wondered what would become of Aretha today. She'd have some followers on the web, she'd play out live a lot, but Queen of Soul? They'd hire some scrawny little hip-hop dancer to lip synch in a stupid video and that'd be that.

4. A Mistake - Fiona Apple

"I'm gonna make a mistake/I'm gonna do it on purpose"

Love that line. I have run the gamut with Fiona Apple and have finally come to the conclusion that I am in. All the way. She is self-indulgent, obscure, a half-tone flat on occasion, and I still feel vaguely manipulated by her first video which made me pay more attention to her underwear than her song. This album isn't great but it led to "Extraordinary Machine" which is a masterpiece. Can't wait to see what she'll get up to next. I also sort of wish I didn't know that she'd been raped when she was 12. They trotted that tidbit out when she first hit the scene as if it gave some weight to the painful vibe of her music. But her music doesn't need that to stand on its own.

5. War & Peace - Ice Cube

Legendary.

6. When You Wake Up Feeling Old - Wilco

When you follow Ice Cube with a song about being tired and old you have a lot of explaining to do. I love Wilco but every time I hear Jeff Tweedy sing as if the microphone is a boulder and he is Sisyphus down in the dell I want to give him a smack. Hey Jeff, why not talk trash like Ice Cube? Lob a verbal grenade at Stephen Malkmus or Fall Out Boy. Or Ice Cube, for that matter. Start a feud with Ice Cube instead of whining about how creaky you are before you have your rock star coffee.

7. Oh! You Pretty Things - David Bowie

David Bowie was unsuccessful for almost ten years before "Space Oddity". He was well known, making a good deal of money, famous enough to be on the BBC "Live at the BBC" series.

But, as this song shows, his songs stunk. And he had lots of 'em. Loads and loads of stinkers.

Point being, you cannot be afraid to fail, to do things that in retrospect won't be any good. You have to get through a whole host of stinkers to get to the gold mine.

8. Hand Of Kindness - Richard Thompson

If the Devil came to me and said I could play guitar like Richard Thompson in exchange for a few favors, my place in Heaven would be in jeopardy. Somehow he weaves solos and furious rhythm guitar playing together until it is some hybrid of the two. Not the note-crazy jerking off that most guitarists immediately go for, but intricate, brutal, direct and tender meanderings. If you say his name as I pick up my guitar I will be forced to put it back inside the case.

9. Lazy Head And Sleepybones - They Might Be Giants

Anything that reminds me of Cashel as a young boy is killing me these days. Killing me.

10. Sabrosa - The Beastie Boys

I picture The Beastie Boys stoned out of their minds in a warehouse of their own design, puffing joints on skateboards shooting down ramps as one of them starts jamming out on some vintage instrument that is lying around. Slowly they all leave whatever individual novelty they are messing around with (Galaga video game, Rubik's cube, Jenga...) and drift to the performance space behind the hot tub. This is what they come up with. Words? We don' need no stinkin' words...

11. Charlie, The Methadone Man - Fastball

I like their sound. I like the cut of their jib. I am laughing at one of the chapters in the David Sedaris book I'm reading which is about his youth in North Carolina. Anything to do with North Carolina makes me think of Melody and feels as if it is part of some secret world I've been invited into.

12. Our Mutual Friend - The Divine Comedy

Baz Luhrman needs to call this guy up and make a musical with him. Seriously. Something about a ship sailing over the end of the earth into some gigantic sea monster's mouth. But one lone pirate hangs onto a rock over the abyss, channeling the love for the maiden he left behind into survival...how will he make it back across the ocean without a boat? I dunno, ask Baz...

13. Tunic (Song For Karen) - Sonic Youth

This song is as creepy as they come. Karen Carpenter is dead and in Heaven. She talks to her brother and her mother respectively about how happy she is now and how they shouldn't worry about her. She's with all of her friends and they are starting a band. She's back playing the drums. Kim Gordon sings all of this in her dead monotone and you can almost hear her disappearing as she stares at herself in the mirror.

14. The Holiday Song - Pixies

Rockin' goodness from Pixies. I recently learned that it is not THE Pixies, just Pixies. So there's that.

15. P.S. You Rock My World - Eels

Here is another doom and gloom singer that I really loved at one point and merely annoys me now. See above response to Wilco. I get it. Life sucks. So why do you want me to pay any attention to you, then? YOU suck.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my morning commute.

Bus Ride Soundtrack

2010-12-03T10:12:00.000-08:00

In Los Angeles, there are two kinds of people who ride the bus. Crazy people and me.

I use several strategies to keep the rest of 'em from getting their crazy hooks in me and crazying me up by osmosis. I adopt a vague smiley unthreatening lack of attention. I appear to be interested in the sights when in fact if I never take Wilshire from Koreatown to Santa Monica again it will be too soon. My eye trajectory is always at a 45 degree angle looking at feet and shins. Nothing higher or you risk being drawn into drama that sure, you have sympathy for, but on a crowded commute you HAVE TO IGNORE.

My primary weapons against soul infiltration from the psycho brigade?

Books and my iPod.

On this blog I've written about 50 Great Albums and 50 Great Books, many of which I've read and listened to on the 720 Local or 920 Express while studiously failing to notice the deranged lunatic berating the bus driver for being part of a conspiracy.

Larry laughs at me for giving my iPod human qualities that inform the choices it makes. But I don't care what he says. I am in great debt to the ones and zeros coded into that little friend of mine that make such a commute possible.

1. The Boy Who Ate Lasagna And Could Jump Over A Church - King Missile 'The Way to Salvation'

I bought this album because I liked the cover. I'd not heard a note. And I liked it so much that it wound up being one of the albums I took with me to France. This was back in Walkman days so I had to limit myself to about 20 albums that would fit in a case. It annoys me a bit now but there are still several fantastic tunes on here. This song occurs early in the album and is then reprised in such a way that a joke is told. It's a bit precious and self-conscious but I like it.

2. 11:11 - Rufus Wainwright 'Want One'

When Rufus sings "everything really does happen in Manhattan" it chills me to the bone. And for the first time I realized that he'd made a visual reference to the Twin Towers in the title of the song as well as merely saying "eleven". Truly a heartbreaking gorgeous love letter of an elegy/eulogy.

3. Bargain - The Who 'Who's Next'

There was a time in high school when I hated The Who on principle because they were classic rock. Then in college I changed my mind because I heard "Who By Numbers". This song reminds me of high school, frankly.

4. Bigger Than Need Or Greed - Andre Williams 'Bait & Switch'

I've written of The Black Godfather on this blog before. I've seen him four times now, twice in New York City, once in Amsterdam, and once in Los Angeles. I'll just quote him here to make my point. "Would I die for you, baby? Hell, no."

5. Where You Going - Jimmie Dale Gilmore 'Spinning Around The Sun'

I remember first hearing of Jimmie Dale Gilmore when he cut a track with Mudhoney, the grunge jesters from Seattle. I still haven't heard that song (what the hell am I waiting for???) but his name stuck in my head. I thought it cool that a country musician would cross that divide. This 'Spinning Around The Sun' album is sheer perfection.

6. Let's Do It - Joan Jett & Paul Westerberg 'Tank Girl Soundtrack'

I saw 'Tank Girl' in a $3 movie theater in Smithfield, RI. I love it. It is WAY better than it has any right to be and a great aspect of the movie is the music. Eclectic, hard-hitting, cross-genre, exciting. Of course I'm biased because Westerberg is my hero but, c'mon, Cole Porter? Joan Jett? Punk rock? This track is sick.

7. Mother Of The Bride - Billy Bragg 'Don't Try This At Home'

Unfortunately for Billy Bragg he later worked with Wilco on the Woody Guthrie "Mermaid Avenue" albums and made it impossible for me to care about his own work. Pretty much the same goes for Wilco.

8. The Garden - Guns N' Roses 'Use Your Illusion I'

The 'Use Your Illusion' albums were two of my France albums as well. I am one of the few who love Guns N' Roses the further they get from Paradise City.

9. What Do You Do/The Glory of Love - Lyle Lovett 'Lyle Lovett And His Large Band'

What's out the window? I'm on the bus. I'm reading a book. It's Friday. I hope I don't fall asleep and miss my stop because of Lyle Fuckin' Lovett. Good God. Ambien in an MP3.

10. Guilty Of Being White - Minor Threat 'Minor Threat: Complete Discography'

This'll wake ya up! Wow. Ian MacKaye had to beat the skinheads off with a stick after this one. He has always maintained that it is a song about racism but man is he poking a stick into a wasp nest.

11. Crackle & Drag (original take) - Paul Westerberg 'Come Feel Me Tremble'

Paul Westerberg has turned his back on the record industry. The result? Two different takes of a song about Sylvia Plath. Stay down in the basement, Paul. The greatest ever.

12. Bad Show - Soul Side 'Soon-Come-Happy'

This DC hardcore/emo band is important in an almost impossibly obscure way to a whole slew of fans. Their slow heavy emotional style was a precursor to Fugazi and they influenced a great number of young punks by giving them permission to stop chanting slogans and start singing about themselves.

13. Another One Bites The Dust - Queen 'Greatest Hits'

What is there to say? Queen is one of those bands that has fans in every quarter. If you don't love Queen you are just an idiot.

14. I Love A Piano - Tony Bennett 'Unplugged'

I have grown tired of this album over the years, mostly because they audience claps before each song when Tony introduces it even though you know NONE of the MTV extras planted have any idea what a Steinway is or who Irving Berlin was.

15. Neighborhood # 2 (Laika) - Arcade Fire 'Funeral'

I wish Scientology on no one but couldn't they just annex these douchebags? I hate this band.

Off the bus and now I can look up at the world again. Once again my trusty friend the iPod kept me safe from LA mass transit users.

Beach Detectives Premieres!!!

2010-12-01T11:38:00.000-08:00

I recently completed the first episode of a web series called "Beach Detectives". My good buddy Larry Clarke and I are co-conspirators and had a lot of help from a lot of really talented folks.

Thanks to everyone involved!

Enjoy...

Beach Detectives!

Clifford, Be...

2010-10-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

As I watch my son negotiate the strange modern waters of technology and communication, I become more and more grateful for the atmosphere that surrounded me as I grew up. We X'ers are the last Americans to have wandered around, connected only to those who were physically present. It was rare that I spoke on the phone as a child, and when I did it was still attached to a wall. The cordless didn't make an appearance in my house until I was almost out of high school.

This is not better or worse than today's world, only different. My father, in describing what it was like to be a librarian at this particular moment in history, said, "I feel like a blacksmith in 1910."

Every generation feels that their childhood was vastly different than the one that follows. However, in examining the changes that have taken place between 1980 and 2010, I think it is safe to say that the gulf between the day-to-day life of a twelve year old today and the kind of life I led when I was the same age is a greater gulf than most thirty year periods would normally contain. For example, 1945 to 1975. Different, yes. Socially, culturally, economically. But technologically?

In 1945 you picked up the phone attached to your wall. In 1975 it might have been made of a different plastic but it was still attached to the wall. But 1980 to 2010? If you didn't know any better, you might assume we'd been invaded by aliens.

The most instant photo was a Polaroid and that was still a bulky inconvenience. Now a photo taken on a phone can be national news within twenty minutes.

I expound this way to set the scene.

As a kid, I spent my free time in very few ways. I played sports, either organized or in backyards, I listened to music and played with my sisters in our den, and I read. I read and read and read. Each week we would go to the library and check out as many books as we wanted. Everywhere else we were limited by my parents' natural sense of moderation. One candy. No extra soda at the restaurant. Very rarely in a restaurant period!

But books? Bring a wheelbarrow if you want.

And one of my favorite series of books concerned a young Middle American pre-teen named Alvin Fernald. The books I remember most are "Superweasel" in which Alvin creates a super-hero named Superweasel to combat pollution and proceeds to commit various acts of what comes down to eco-terrorism and "Alvin Fernald: Mayor For A Day" in which he wins a contest to serve as Mayor of his town and uncovers corruption while actually getting things done. All in one day.

I loved these books. I wanted to be Alvin Fernald. They were written by a man named Clifford B. Hicks.

I found a beat up copy of "Superweasel" at the used book store in our town and gave it to my son when he turned eight. He loved it as much as I did.

Now. In my entire collection of books, I have two autographed editions. One, "Superweasel" is addressed to me and "Alvin Fernald: Mayor For A Day" is addressed to Cashel, from Clifford B. Hicks.

The story of how I come to have these treasures is a treasure to me itself.

This past spring I was cast in Erik Patterson's new play "Sick" at the Los Angeles Theater Center. I was excited about this for a thousand reasons. I love Erik's writing but I also love Erik himself. Through Tuesdays At 9 and my sister's blog he seemed to be a satellite member of my family.

Aside from being an astonishing playwright, Erik is an accomplished screenwriter as well, focusing on tween movies. He and his writing partner did "Another Cinderella Story". IMDB him and see for yourself.

In any case, we were working on "Sick" and Erik was a wonderful presence in rehearsal, giving feedback whenever we needed it and ignoring one terrible idea I had which he will tell whenever he has a drink in him and wants to embarrass me.

I had just re-read "Superweasel" for some reason and I thought of Erik and his other career writing tween stories. I went to rehearsal and asked him if he knew of the character Alvin Fernald.

His head jerked and he said, "You mean by Clifford B. Hicks?"

Now, these books were popular but not Twilight level and they were popular in the 1970's which I described above. There was no instant knowledge. Everything was popular in a vacuum. Erik was the first person ever to know what I was talking about when I mentioned Alvin Fernald.

Erik's eyes bulged and he gushed, "I know Clifford B. Hicks! He's an old family friend...we used to visit them every July 4th! He's the reason I'm a writer! I wrote my first novel when I was ten and showed it to him!" I'm paraphrasing and Erik can correct me however he likes but that was the gist of the conversation.

Our minds were BLOWN by this mad coincidence. What were the odds? That we would have known each other going on five years...it is quite possible that we could have gone on being good friends for years upon years and NEVER discovered this connection.

We basically then jumped up and down reveling in the mystery of life before we had to settle down and get down to rehearsal. It was a beautiful moment.

Cut to a post performance moment at the LATC. "Sick" was a roaring success. Erik's mother was going to be in the audience. After the show we all gathered in the lobby to accept and give congratulations and bask in the aftermath of the play. Erik introduced me to his mother.

She had a package in her hand. I opened it to find the aforementioned autographed copies of "Superweasel" and "Alvin Fernald: Mayor For A Day".

Needless to say I was very touched. Moments like that are what it is all about as far as I am concerned.

Clifford B. Hicks passed away on September 29, 2010 at the age of 90. Here is his obituary from The Times Republican.

Even though I read those books before home computers, even though technology has advanced exponentially since then, the impact those stories had on me lasted a lifetime, my lifetime up to now. I passed them on to my son. And I hope he'll do the same.

Maybe things haven't changed that much after all.

Rest in peace, Clifford B. Hicks. Thanks for the books, both generally and specifically.

Sick (Spring: 2010)

2010-06-11T09:48:00.000-07:00

Wow. A lifetime of plays and I've already reached the present. I just finished a run playing the role of Dr. Brown in the World Premiere of Erik Patterson's fantastic play "Sick" at the Los Angeles Theater Center.

Turns out that I would take the longest break between full productions ever in my life. Almost three and a half years passed between "Devotion" and the opening of "Sick".

Now, I kept as busy as I could during this time. Projects included a short spoof of movie review shows that I shot with Larry, several evenings of short plays from the Yo-Yo Theater company, several different evenings of sketch comedy through the infamous "Slap & Tickle" group and one offshoot of that "Saturn & Vine" in which Larry and I premiered our High-Talkin' Detectives in "The Finishers", and a lead role in a sweet sitcom pilot from the creator of Kate & Allie called "Little Women, Big Cars".

Plus I recorded and sold my song "Always Leaving Providence" to the Showtime series "Brotherhood" and recorded and released "Good Bye, New York" as a single on iTunes, accompanying that with an evening of songs about New York at the Bootleg Theater. Oh, yeah, and I performed in two evenings of music for charity, one using all Fugazi songs, one using all Pixies songs.

All this while parenting, dealing with the terrible illness and subsequent passing away of my wonderful father, and desperately trying to wrestle myself into some sort of acceptable shape, both physically and mentally.

Yikes. It has been a rough couple of years. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, got pneumonia and pleurisy, and discovered that I suffered from a chronic condition called "carotydina" which is an inflammation of the carotid artery.

I was rather overtaxed and did not feel like I could take on a full production.

That is, until Erik asked me to do "Sick".

I'd met Erik several years earlier at Tuesdays at 9, another creative outlet that I pursued fanatically in the intervening years. Naked Angels sponsors a cold reading series every Tuesday night at 9PM at St. Nick's Pub on 3rd St. near the Beverly Center. If you live in LA and haven't checked this out, I strongly urge you to do so.

Each week writers preview ten pages of whatever they are working on. Actors are handed the scripts almost at random before the night and then they read them cold. No rehearsal, no familiarization with the material, just instant show. There is also a musical guest each week that performs two songs. Which I also did a few times over the past couple of years.

This evening was my creative lifeline in the down time between all the aforementioned projects. It gave me the sense that I was pursuing my craft even if I had no professional proof of such. It was a weekly oasis of creativity in the desert of day jobs, mental struggle and financial worry.

Every time Erik showed up with material to be read something special would happen. His work is constantly surprising without being overtly so, deep without being ponderous, funny without resorting to shallow jokes and well-crafted without being predictable. Plus his subject matter varied wildly from piece to piece, something that I really responded to. I loved that you never knew what to expect.

But he never asked me to read for him! We were friendly enough, more so than I was with any of the other writers. He'd become a fan of my sister Sheila's blog so it always felt like he knew everything that was going on in my life!

In any case, Melody and I went to see a production of "He Asked For It" in West Hollywood. I'd seen excerpts of this play at Tuesdays and even so was not prepared for the emotional wallop he inflicted on us. There really was no part in it that I could have played but I joked with Erik afterward that he better put me in his next play, or at least let me do a reading of his stuff at Tuesdays.

Lo and behold, several months ago, Erik asked me to do a reading of "Sick" at the Los Angeles Theater Center. They'd chosen it to be a part of their season through Playwright's Arena. Playwright's Arena is dedicated to work written by Los Angeles writers that are set in Los Angeles as well. "Sick" fit that bill to a t.

The reading went well and Erik and the director Diane Rodriguez asked me to do the production. I felt as if the lag time between my last play and this one was worth it because I could unreservedly say that the play was worth it. I'd turned down other stuff over the years because of time commitments or laziness but in looking back I just must not have responded to the material. I wanted this part.

"Sick" tells the story of Pamela, a very young mom who is convinced she is dying. Her long suffering husband David has had it up to here with her delusions and has developed a crush on his sister-in-law, Carla. Carla is married to Pamela's brother Gary and she has just embarked on the 12-Step Program and kicked Gary out of the house in an effort to stay clean. Gary comes to stay with Pamela and David and their ten year old son Michael. I played Michael's pediatrician, Dr. Tim Brown.

I am not going to give too much of the plot away, seeing as this play has only been performed once in full production on the planet. Suffice it to say that Pamela's hypochondria sets in motion a series of events that threaten the family to its core.

Ironically enough I got really sick during rehearsal and was a veritable shell of myself for almost three of the five weeks of rehearsal that we had. But even this setback was something of an eye-opener for me. In the past I would have raged against this unfair development, why me? Why now? Why couldn't I catch a break when I needed it?

Instead I just hunkered down, conserved as much of my energy as I possibly could, and constantly reassured myself that I would be ready to go on opening night. And you know what? That's just what happened. I kicked the illness and caught up to the rest of the cast.

There were challenges as there are in any production. But overall it was one of the most relaxed enjoyable rehearsal periods I've ever encountered. Erik's play is so finely constructed that a lot of the work is done for you. All you have to do is say the words and everything unfolds.

I met some great new people, got to work with a playwright whose work I had admired from up close for over half a decade and performed a breast exam right on stage.

Could not ask for more.

Well, an agent would be nice but ten percent of nothing is nothing anyway. Who needs 'em?

Diverting Devotion (Fall: 2006)

2010-06-10T09:25:00.000-07:00

Larry Clarke had begun dating a very talented writer/actress, Fielding Edlow. They'd done a production of "Miss Julie" together and had fallen in love. She was looking around for another play to do when she read "Diverting Devotion" by Mike O'Malley.

This play is why Larry is in the O'Malley universe...he'd played Henry opposite my cousin Kerry in the inaugural production at the Irish Arts Center in New York City. Kerry's performance as the foul-mouthed elementary school teacher on a date with the Larry's shell-shocked Henry ranks extremely high on my all-time big-laugh scale. He was so good he made me forget I had desperately wanted to play the part. She was so good she may have deterred any audience members who were considering a career in education.

In any case, Fielding flipped over the play. They approached Mike, he decided to re-write it and re-publish it as a new, different version. Larry would direct, Fielding would play Janice. Mike suggested that Melody would be a good choice to play the part of Nicole.

At the time Melody still lived in New York City and we were doing the long-distance thing. As I've alluded to in the past, hindsight allows me to see the many ways in which I was unable to truly perceive my own deep-seated issues. I was in desperate need of anger management training, diligent therapy in pursuit of that goal and wholesale changes in my body life (i.e. quitting smoking, eating right, working out, etc.).

Not being able to take any steps towards any kind of health, I was continually lashing out at Melody. I kept it from the public at large (until an opening night diva fit, unfortunately) but my rage was eroding any chance Melody and I had of being happy.

In spite of her misgivings on these counts, Melody took the leap and quit her job in New York to come to LA to do the play.

Larry filled out the rest of the cast as follows. An old friend of his who I'd only briefly met before, Michael Hurley, would play Sully. Terry Maratos would take on Henry, the part that Larry had played in NY. Jen DeMartino would play the foul-mouthed teacher Nancy, and Dee Ann Newkirk would play Carol.

I would give you a plot summary but the truth is that I hope you read it, read the updated version that Mike published through Samuel French. I am very proud to have my name on it, to have played a part in helping Mike rewrite it.

I am not proud, however, of how I acted during the play. I have come to a place of self-forgiveness about it so I'm not even going to go into detail. Suffice it to say that the stress of a production forced what had remained secret and reserved for Melody out into the open. I yelled. I raged. I behaved very badly.

I am lucky to have friends and family who have deep capacity for forgiveness and understanding.

Now, all that aside, this play is like a joyride from hell. The inexorability of the heartbreak is excruciating. Mike peppers laughter throughout at such an astonishing rate that once things start to turn sour it is like a sucker punch.

The final trilogy of scenes play out like a microcosm of every love story gone awry. Much like when we did "Certainty" the audience comments weren't specifically about the performances or play but about THEMSELVES. As in, "Oh my god, I was PETE in college. I was dating this girl..." Or "I was CAROL! I freaked out on this guy I was dating and etc. etc."

There is something in the way Mike unfolds relationship trauma that is universal. You watch his plays and look at each character and think, "That was me. That is me."

Now that a few years have passed and I've been able to leave a lot of my self-destructive behavior behind, I am able to look fondly on this production. I can forgive myself for my faults which threatened to derail everything. Everyone poured their heart and souls into it and left everything they had on the stage.

It just goes to show you that you can reach an audience with a great play and a great cast even if the behind-the-scenes stuff is fraught with tension and strife. And you can even keep your girlfriend and friends after you act like a total jackass and yell at everyone on opening night.

How lucky am I???

Glory Pie (Spring: 2006)

2010-06-09T10:06:00.000-07:00

After "Bloody Corsets/Body Count" I hit a rough patch personally. I was still years away from any kind of real internal change or acceptance of what my true issues were. This hamstrung me in ways I couldn't perceive. The biggest stress was the fact that Cashel had moved first to Maine and then Texas. I was not handling the separation very well.

He'd visited a few times, even helping to hand out programs at "Bloody Corsets/Body Count". I'd visited him as well but we were both deeply affected by the distance between us. His arrival in the fall was a great help.

Somehow I was called to audition for a new play called "Glory Pie". This was one of those times when I instantly knew that the part was mine. I might not get it, but I knew it was mine. The audition went very well and my instinct was correct.

"Glory Pie" opens with a couple dealing with the news that they are pregnant. Guests are expected at any minute, her sister and brother-in-law who are just about to go to China to adopt a baby girl. They are taking this course because they have not been able to conceive. My wife fears that her sister will not take the news of our natural conception well.

Complicating matters is the unexpected arrival of our new next-door neighbors, an Aussie actor and his lingerie model girlfriend. They inject a party atmosphere into the evening that sets everyone off on a drinking spree. Tensions rise, tempers flare, and voila, hit show.

We opened at the Coronet Theater right near the Beverly Center. Eddie Izzard had just done a string of shows here, testing out new material and there was a feather boa draped over the window of the dressing room.

After having done a show with a whole group of friends, it was a real treat to meet and work with all new people. Well, all new but for the actress who played my wife, who I had met through my circle of friends.

We were not rushed, we had the co-authors directing, we had a crack production team behind the show. The Lawlers wrote the play partially based on their own experience adopting a little Chinese girl but they didn't rest on those laurels. The sibling rivalry was sharp, the new-Hollywood party couple was a sexy hoot and the whole design and execution of the show created a real party vibe.

The set felt like an ultra-modern retro Silverlake house decorated to look like a 1950's martini bar. There was a spontaneous dance sequence that interrupts the uneasy dinner that has, fueled by alcohol, funneled into a party. And the audience ate it up with a spoon.

My character flirts shamelessly with and ogles unabashedly the lingerie model. My wife is aggressively pursued in a light-hearted way by a new guest, the slick Aussie friend of the Aussie neighbor. And yet somehow, in spite of these obvious stabs at flirtatiousness, the writing manages to make it clear that these two are meant for each other.

Alyssa Stec played my wife and she was a bundle of dancer nerve and verve. Her tension builds until she takes center stage during the dance for a sexy ass-shaking solo which builds to a hip rattling climax. Alyssa was a Rockette in another life and nailed this moment, managing to ACT at the same time. A great performance.

Real life Aussie Tom Tate played the thick-as-a-brick heart-of-gold Aussie actor on the brink of stardom and Bree Turner effortlessly inhabited the hedonistic yet oddly innocent world of his lingerie model arm candy. All the baby talk gets to her and she deepens considerably over the course of the dinner. Her understudy was a wonderful actress named Parisa Fitz-Henley who brought her own wonderful flavor to bear in such a way that the play changed. Not for better or worse, but good change, like watching a sunset shift from deep red to purple-orange.

Dan Kinsella and Carla Capps were hilarious as the nervous couple about to fly to China to pick up a baby and bring her back here. This nervousness was palpable and crucial to the conflict at the center of the play. For while my wife and I have to face the arrival of a few growing cells, these two are about to pick up a living human being. Instant parenthood.

Finally, Darren Schnase and my friend Sean-Michael Bowles both played the Aussie latecomer who turns the party on a dime. This is a tricky part as he is a whirlwind, late to arrive, first to leave, he comes in and somehow by his very presence, unfolds all of the tensions that have been bubbling beneath the surface. All while remaining above the fray.

Packed appreciative houses, great reviews, out and out hit show.

Now, I would be remiss in telling this tale if I didn't write about the aftermath. The Lawlers filmed our performances to pitch the play as a TV pilot. The popularity of the show led them to seek to move the production to a larger house.

The money people wanted to do so but wanted to cast names. Which I get. My cousin and I had been joking about Mark Ruffalo replacing me in "Searching For Certainty" almost since the first reading. But The Lawlers asked us all to be understudies once the play moved. Which made me mad.

Now, I was mad all the time those days so I think my reaction would be quite different these days. Then I could only connect to the insult. Not the fact that they were caught in a difficult spot and were doing the best that they could. Now, I still think they should have just told us what was going down and thanked us for our help. I think relying on our knowledge of the play to give them a back-up plan is understandable but they probably should have just come up with other options.

But truth be told, what else were they gonna do? NOT ask us to be involved? That wouldn't feel right to them either. The second production never materialized, partially I assume because it is such an ensemble piece that no name big enough to draw houses would be interested. It really works on each actor, it is not a showcase piece for any one person.

What I care to focus on is the moment in the play when all the characters spontaneously erupt into a choreographed dance which whipped the audience into a frenzy. I always did love to dance.

And I kept Eddie Izzard's feather boa, too.

Bloody Corsets/Body Count (Spring: 2005)

2010-06-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

One of the major offshoots that came about due to "Searching For Certainty" in Los Angeles was my new friendship with Larry Clarke. Now, I'd known Larry since 1996 when he originated the role of Henry in Mike's play "Diverting Devotion" in New York. We'd done all the readings of "Certainty" together and had also both fled a disastrous staged-reading we'd been roped into. But we were not friends.

"Certainty" changed all that. Larry had moved to LA a little bit earlier and he was determined to show me around town. He took me to the 101 Diner, he took me hiking in Runyon Canyon, he took me to the monstrous steps in Santa Monica. It was a little while into the rehearsal process that I realized: I had a new friend! I hadn't made a new friend the entire time I'd been in New York City for chrissakes.

The friendship deepened from there as I moved in with Larry and Jeff at the now infamous Rossmore Apartment complex. I slept in a nook between the living room and kitchen. It was in this apartment where Larry, in a fit of fevered creativity, wrote the bookend one-act plays "Bloody Corsets" and "Body Count".

He would stagger out of his room, sweaty and disheveled, clutching his laptop like it was a battered old notebook, and he would read aloud to me, doing all of the characters. These performances are burned onto my brain. I remember howling with laughter, clutching my stomach, telling him that he needed to STOP.

He was determined to mount a production immediately.

That apartment is where we rehearsed both plays. "Bloody Corsets" has four characters and "Body Count" nine.

Plot summaries of both plays are as follows:

"Bloody Corsets" is the title of a one-woman show that is being rehearsed in a black box theater. The director of the piece is married to the actress playing the main role. Their dynamic is the true story of the play, but we also get the play-within-a-play and the twisted nature of the theater company itself, which is basically this married couple and their sycophantic stage manager. The only outsider is the hired hand running the light and sound boards.

"Body Count" is the story of one disastrous night for a restaurant staff. In essence it is a war movie. A new staff member rubs everyone the wrong way as he tries to quickly assimilate himself into the deeply stratified levels of hierarchy and personality quirks that make up the pecking order in this high quality joint.

Back to back the two pieces lasted just over an hour.

I wound up playing the stage manager in the first piece by default. Larry and I were having a hard time figuring out how we could schedule full rehearsal for two casts at once. The only cast member who was not in both shows was the light/sound board operator in "Bloody Corsets". If I played the stage manager our rehearsal problem became much easier to manage. This wound up being quite a fortuitous shortcut because I have never had more fun than I did playing that brainwashed doormat.

We would all cram into our apartment and go to work. Talk about a labor of love. Larry would rewrite as he saw fit, solving problems as we went. He had very specific bits in mind for both shows...the comedy was quite often physical in nature and had to be choreographed to the limit. There were wine bottles being thrown, pratfalls, fake explosions (remember, it was a war movie!), glasses, plates and pepper grinders to be dealt with, and in the case of "Bloody Corsets", humor that came directly from ill timed light and sound cues.

These shows, while short, were extremely intricate.

But Larry literally had a flawless blueprint in his mind of how it all ought to go. We simply let him conduct us around the stage. His attention to detail, his determination to wring every ounce of humor and drama out of these stories was inspiring.

The audience reacted as if they were being tickled. It had a squirmy, "oh-my-god-if-you-don't-stop-that-i'm-going-to-pee-my-pants" feel to it. "Bloody Corsets" is a packed 15 minutes but somehow seems epic and insane. "Body Count" is about 45 or so and starts out casually enough but builds to a feverish climax much like a cliche ridden war movie.

No one made any money. In fact, everyone probably lost money on this thing, what with minor expenses. Larry most certainly did. He designed and built the set. He bought the costumes and props. He put together a program.

At the center of it all was Larry. These two plays hadn't existed just a few months earlier. Now they were whipping audiences into a frenzy. Thank god for new friends!

Searching For Certainty (Spring 2000-Winter 2003/Spring 2010)

2010-06-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

Some projects feel like projects. Others feel like your life. This falls in the latter category. It single-handedly shaped a decade of my existence. I am overwhelmed at the thought of trying to track this journey.

This play is what prompted my move to LA. It introduced me to a whole new circle of friends, Larry Clarke and Jeff Donovan in particular. It vaulted the possibility in my professional life to a whole new level. I know the reality of my career but if it hadn't been for this play I shudder to think what might have been.

In fact, I just returned from New York where a film version is currently being shot. So a decade after the first staged reading I just did my first SAG film work on it. Amazing.

Searching For Certainty:

My cousin Mike wrote this searing examination of the modern courtship. Before we put up the actual Los Angeles production which still reverberates to all those who were in it or saw it, we did staged reading after staged reading, many in New York and one week-long workshop in Cleveland.

For anyone who thinks writing a great play is an easy task, they would do well to track the progress of this particular work. It went through transformation after transformation as Mike attempted to wrestle the three-pronged story into the perfect final shape.

The plot is deceptively simple. Dom and Deb are engaged and about to embark on the Pre-Cana retreat required by the Catholic Church for all those to be married in the faith. The communication exercises used to foster closeness wind up revealing secrets that threaten their relationship to its core. The priest who is running the retreat attempts to help them wade through the dark corners without splitting up.

From the beginning I played the part of Kevin, Dom's oldest best friend, a singer-songwriter from Providence, Rhode Island who is drowning in a sea of booze and shallow relationships. I know, I know, I am from Rhode Island, I am a singer-songwriter, but Mike invented this guy whole cloth. He is lewd, obnoxious, leering, sexist, infantile and endearing to an almost dangerous degree. His charm and humor have buffered him from having to deal with the reality of his life.

Kevin is obsessed with an old college friend named Betsy. They had one of those relationships unique to college in which you spend all of your time with someone who still has a boyfriend or girlfriend. Kevin in a fit of drunken bravery and self-pity bared his soul, admitted his love and scared Betsy off. They haven't spoken in nine years.

Also factoring in to the story is Dom's younger sister Melissa, uneasily married to Roddy, a garrulous whirlwind of a software salesman. She has recently lost a great deal of weight and begun to pursue her dream of becoming an actress, much to Roddy's chagrin. Her secret, revealed in the penultimate scene of the play, threatens to derail two relationships and her own with her brother.

Some details of the play have shifted as it has moved to the screen, a fascinating process which I could write eight other posts about!

I am proud to say that I did readings of this play with some of the best and most accomplished actresses of this generation. Kate Walsh. Annie Parisse. Miriam Shor. Callie Thorne and then in the actual Los Angeles performance Missy Yager. It still blows me away.

As we moved to take the play to Cleveland, they held auditions for the first time. I actually auditioned for Kevin and Dom as well.

Up to that point, Mike had read Dom in several of the readings. But he was not interested in acting in the play, he wanted to be able to watch and take in what needed to change, what worked.

Thus Jeffrey Donovan came into our lives. In the loving vernacular of my family, what a douche.

From the first rehearsal it was clear that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a Massachusetts kid and instinctively got the rhythms inherent in the piece. I've since see him take on wildly different roles and realized that this acumen had nothing to do with the place of his origin. He's just a great fucking actor. His success is not accidental.

The reading in Cleveland went well but Mike basically went back to the drawing board afterward. We'd thought there might be a production following right on the heels but Mike wasn't satisfied with the state of the script. Plus he was a teensy bit busy being the center of a hit sitcom.

But he found the time and chiseled away at the play until he was ready to pull the trigger.

So. 2003. January. Peter Askin, who had directed the reading in Cleveland and fostered the readings in New York, was going to direct a full on production in Los Angeles.

I stayed at the infamous Oakwood Apartments near Universal City. A complex nestled into the base of a hill, it houses all sorts of people in town working on various projects. There are full time residents but the overall vibe is one of a live-in hotel. I saw my first coyote in the driveway late one night.

I pulled into town and went right to Mike's house. Mike gave me a group of songs to listen to that he had used as inspiration while in the midst of his latest rewrite. He told me to go out to the guest house and listen to the whole thing. I hadn't heard most of the songs and they were so apt, piercing directly to the core of this character's heartbreak that I burst into tears listening to the very first song.

Also at play in the power of my emotional response was the sense that this would be a giant moment for me professionally. I'd had near miss after near miss and was, quite frankly, floundering in New York without really knowing it. To be whisked out of my surroundings to work on this play which was so near and dear to me was like the kid pulling his thumb out of the dyke. I was a raw nerve.

Mike also asked that I write a short melody for Jeff Donovan to sing...Dom sings a line back at Kevin from a song he'd written about Betsy..."Her name was Betsy..." Mike needed a tune for Donovan to mock me with. He'd asked Jon Leahy and Shark to come up with a musical snippet as well. But I was so invested in this play that I wound up writing a full song that day in the guest house.

Within one hour of arriving at Mike's I'd had a nervous breakdown and written a song.

I called it QE3.

The rehearsal period was very short but most of us were very familiar with the material by this point. We opened after an intense but painless two and a half week process.

A veritable who's who of Hollywood sat in the tiny dusty ramshackle theater in Hollywood. I remember telling Mike just to keep whoever was coming that night to himself until after the play. I'd blow a gasket if I knew.

Because Jeff had booked a big TV gig, we could only run the play for two weekends, a total of eight performances. It seems impossible in retrospect. I still, more than seven years later, get compliments from people about that show. And not the garden variety "Great job" comments. No, Mike's play elicits much stronger thoughts.

People say things like, "I wound up breaking up with my boyfriend after that play." Or "I decided to ask my girlfriend to marry me after that play." Or "I started to think about God again and it freaked me out." Things of that nature. It is not a small play.

Now, the material success that was intimated by the impact of this play did not pan out for me. Probably because it was all I was focusing on. But when I think about the payoff that this play has had in my life my mind boggles. Lifelong friendship, continued fruitful collaboration, support through difficult times...what more can you ask for?

Oh, yeah, how about a part in a movie? How's that for a cherry on top of a ten year sundae?

Morning Milking Evening Milking, Mach II (Spring: 2001)

2010-05-23T11:54:00.000-07:00

This is the only play I've ever done twice in full production. I've work-shopped plays and done readings with various casts but this was different. In a four person play a delicate interconnectedness is created. We replaced two actors and set about re-mounting this strange and beautiful play.

I know that any audience member who hadn't seen the play was just as disoriented and entranced as the first time we'd done it, but for me, some elemental component had lessened. It was as if I was hearing the third echo in a canyon, not shouting out the original slogan.

An intricate drawing faxed to successive numbers erodes back to some inarticulate state. A game of telephone in which "You don't have to open the envelope" becomes "Shoes don't run back to the antelope." The bank of a great river eroded over time creates a pond.

I feel funny typing it now because of course when you are in the moment you do your best, you think the best of what you are doing, you applaud the efforts of everyone involved. However, in looking back on it I feel as if some crucial cog had lifted out of gear, the engine still ran and the car could still handle rough turns, but there was always the slight nagging fear that we might just run right off the road.

Adding to the strange replicate experience was the fact that we were doing the play in the same theater on basically the same set. Because of this there was a constant internal replay going on.

It is a testament to the power of the piece that it still worked as well as it did. The language Jim Farmer uses destroys audience expectation. It lets you know right from the start that you cannot expect any normal storytelling ploys. I had seen a production of his before I did one and I was determined to work with him after it. He takes classic genres and inverts them so thoroughly that to call them spoofs is to do them a great disservice. Their absurdity exploits our expectations of the drama or tension inherent in those forms and creates something utterly new.

So even though I felt a constant little itch at the faded repetition of this particular production, I could also instinctively feel how deeply what we were doing touched the audience. They would reel with laughter, talk out loud at what they saw amongst each other, gasp in disbelief. It was like being at The Apollo Theater.

At one point, my character is tortured with desire and anger. My woman is pregnant and the baby isn't mine. We've continued a hot and heavy romance throughout. I've come home late after a night of drinking. I am alone for the first time in the play. I surreptitiously take out a small Pinocchio marionette and play with him, making him climb up a chair, do a dance, etc.

Why was this so funny? To this day I truly do not know. But the first moment I put those little plastic feet on the ground and made them move, each and every audience transformed into a screaming horde of children, delighted and amazed.

I've begun to write on my own and my biggest influence is Jim Farmer. In fact, I have to cop to just imagining I am him and doing what he might do. His co-existing sense of doom and humor combine in such a powerful way. Doomor, you might say.

So this second production of "Morning Milking Evening Milking" was like the moment after you look directly at the sun. Your eyes are closed so you can't possibly be seeing the real sun, but there it is just the same on the back of your eyelids.

Side Man (Fall: 2000)

2010-05-21T09:37:00.000-07:00

Everything else had changed by fall of 2000, why not me? I am notorious for ragging on the intense jazz fan, a personality conglomerate I have dubbed "Jazz Douche".

I've written about "Jazz Douche" before but here I will give you a quick recap of the dominant traits of this rampant sub-species:

How do you know if you are a "Jazz Douche"?

Here are some common indicators...

1. A beret that looks as if it was kidnapped off of the tete of Marcel Marceau's bastard nephew.

2. A storage space with alphabetized vinyl in milk crates.

3. Facial hair that requires constant attention yet still looks like some sort of rabid animal attack.

4. Fanny pack.

5. You say things like 'Dig?' and 'Cool, daddy-o.'

6. You know that Hector "Gobble-Neck" Ramsay played on the first take of The Kansas City Trio's version of 'Chatanooga Choo-Choo' but then he ate some bad fish so they had to call in Arizona Smith for the second take. But, see, on the second take, they had Arizona set up in the bathroom and his stand-up bass kept scratching up against the faucet so they wound up using Gobble-Neck's take anyway, in spite of the fish.

7. You can't play an instrument.

8. You play Santana records to get in your wife's pants.

9. You smell like bologna.

10. Your pants have pleats.

11. For a brief shining moment, you thought Yes was going to change EVERYTHING.

12. Listening to Frankie 'Two-Tone' Walters recording of 'Opus Etude Interlude No. 27 in A Minor' for the first time was the catalyst for ending your second marriage.

13. You wrote a short novel imagining a militia led by Miles Davis overthrowing the MTV Total Request Live set and playing 'Sketches of Spain' on an endless loop.

14. You used to have a hoop earring in your right ear until your boss at the convalescent hospital made you take it out because it was unsanitary.

15. You have an 'I'd Rather Be Be-Bopping' bumpersticker on your Ford Escort.

16. Your eyelids are heavy.

17. After you've had a few cocktails, you start raving about how everything would have gone differently if Chet Baker hadn't died...he'd have been the teen idol, the Beatles wouldn't have made such a splash, and the world would be grooving to Chick Corea a little bit more.

18. You have bad dreams about guitars.

19. You like Pauly Shore comedies.

20. You are deeply ashamed of it, but you secretly prefer Julie Andrews' version of "My Favorite Things" to Coltrane's.

There. If you need any further help in identifying a "Jazz Douche", either in the mirror or in your general vicinity, check back in with me.

When I got the audition for "Side Man" at Stamford Theater Works I knew I was going to get the part because the whole thing takes place in the 1950's jazz underworld of New York City. Bang, I got the part.

Dennis Delaney was the director and I liked him immediately. His wife Shelley was to play my mother. At various times in the play my character, who also functions as the narrator, steps back in time to play himself at ten years old, seventeen, etc. Dennis would later turn me on to The Shaggs and their profoundly disturbing album "Philosophy Of The World" for which I cannot quite say that I am grateful for.

But Dennis also took the time to make everyone in the cast a mix of jazz songs that he thought were appropriate for their character. I took it begrudgingly and muffled my "Jazz Douche" comedy routine. Lo and behold I realized upon listening to this assortment of compositions that "Jazz Douches" were one thing but jazz music was another entirely. I was blown away.

I let go my prejudice about the music and immersed myself in it for the duration of the play.

The play ran in Stamford so on the nights that we performed I would take the commuter train from the city with the rest of the strap-hangers. There was something oddly subversive about this. I was a commuter along with the rest of the bankers, executives, admins, nurses, doctors and lawyers. But my nine to five was on the tail end of their journey, it began at 8PM with me stepping on stage.

The play was an odd echo for me of "Biloxi Blues", another play in which I addressed the audience directly from within the action of the play. I had not done this since that play and it was like slipping into an old shoe. Dennis thought he'd need to allot time to developing this aspect of the play but quickly we realized that we didn't need to belabor it, especially since the rest of the play is so packed with challenging moments.

There are charmed rehearsal processes and charmed productions. This was one of them.

And for me it was capped by an experience that I will never forget.

There are few actors I look up to. I prefer to look ACROSS at actors from a place of equality. Being a fan does nothing for me. I cultivate the feeling that I am a partner, a peer, even with the most successful people I encounter.

Occasionally though, there are exceptions.

Stamford Theater Works was housed in a small red barn behind an exclusive prep school. It had an illustrious history and since many luminaries lived either in Stamford or nearby Greenwich it had strong support from many famous actors and writers.

Word came to us before a show that the one and only Gene Wilder would be in attendance. He was a friend of the owner of the theater and made a point to see all of the shows. Normally he stayed and spoke with the cast but since he was battling cancer he might not be able to do so this time and wanted to congratulate us IN ADVANCE for our show. Classy.

For Gene Wilder I am a fan. I am not on equal footing, never could be, wouldn't dare. As a kid I took "Young Frankenstein" into my cells. "Blazing Saddles" followed and he went so deep into my psyche that if you did a DNA test you might come back with a strange identification. He is like the Red Sox of actors, the local sports team that you root for reflexively, almost like breathing.

So to know that he would be sitting in the audience? An audience I would be addressing directly as a narrator? Wow.

Once the play started all knowledge of that flew out of my brain. This is a wonderful thing about performing. Everything else disappears. Migraines, back aches, heart break, hero in the seats? Gone. The show went well as I recall, it always did. The response varied night to night only because there were different bodies in the seats, not because the show was any different or better or worse.

The audience filed out and the stage manager let us know that Gene was waiting in the house to talk to us.

He was very frail. He walked with a cane. But he was extremely gracious and complimentary of all of our performances and the production as a whole. He mentioned specific moments that he enjoyed (managing to positively implicate the entire cast with just a few words) and then he was off, helped to his car.

I was blown away. I have been star struck very few times in my life and this is by far the most obvious example. I was nervous, I was sweating, I was worried that I might blurt out something stupid, all in all I felt like a kid about to ask his first girl to dance.

I left the theater on a huge high but also very concerned about his health. If he'd passed away that week I wouldn't have been surprised. But somehow he rallied! In fact, his recovery allowed him to perform himself in a series of Moliere one acts at the Westport Country Playhouse which Joanne Woodward ran for years. Melody hadn't moved to New York in time to see "Side Man" but she bought me tickets to see Gene Wilder sling his hash on stage.

And that day? He had become a peer to me, a guy who'd had some health problems and was back doing what he loved. He was magnificent that day, giving Moliere's crazy farce total reality and life.

So by the time "Side Man" closed I had lost some of my long-time animosity towards jazz and I'd slung MY hash for one of the greats.

Morning Milking Evening Milking, Mach I (Spring: 2000)

2010-05-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

(Morning Milking Evening Milking opened at Theater For The New City in spring 2000)

A bird flew through a strange puff of smoke and was forever altered. It stayed a bird, yes, but all of a sudden it used to be a cat that had tried to chase it for years. So needless to say this bird was confused.

And ain't they all, fellas? Ain't all beautiful birds that flew through magic smoke confused? I've met a few myself and I know you have too. They say one thing and then pretty soon they're doing everything opposite from that. You try to expect the unexpected but what winds up happening is you lose your ability to foresee even the slightest of futures.

So what do you do then, huh? Do you fold yourself up into a tiny little origami swan? Or do you do like that real bird did and keep flying on, remembering your new history, experiencing anew your own desire to catch and eat yourself alive?

I don't know. I'm hungry.

There I was in New York City, thrown into a world created by Jim Farmer called "Morning Milking Evening Milking". I might as well have been the imaginary bird I just planted in your brain for all I knew.

His words are alive and they don't allow you any of your bullshit. If you think you're gonna get out of it unscathed you better think again because Farmer that little imp has other destinies in mind for you.

His loft hovered somewhere in Tribeca and would later be covered in dust that flew out from the falling towers. This was still over a year away by the time I saw it for the first time and I knew I was in for a magical ride the moment I read the first word.

All traditional description of rehearsal and production do not apply here. Suffice it to say that we were captured by the images in Farmer's brain. They brought us to a strange Tennessee Williams world where the normal interactions defined by pixie dust and mint juleps ceased to fully apply. We were on our own in that velvet jungle and the sweating palm fronds that slapped against the greenhouse of his imagination gave our fictional selves license to dream our own internal fun house magic shows.

Disorientation is art.

So is a stick of gum chewed and placed directly under your windshield wiper.

So is your cute little panties sticking out from underneath that skirt with the rabbits on it.

And when you showed up soaking wet on that sunny day I knew there was no turning back, that any and all references would be encircled by you, that you eclipsed the idea of you, that I had no alternative but to shatter my own misconceptions and replace them with utter faith and disbelief.

See I get violent when I am challenged and this ol' world isn't big enough to contain my rage. So that baby growing in your stomach that might or might not be mine and might or might not be yours is just another call to arms, one more slight to be endured while I shiver and shake with the never ending lust you've planted in my heart like a weed.

Oh baby. Come sit on my lap with your big pregnant belly and tell me everything gon' be alright in spite of what your daddy says. And don't even bring up yer Ma coz I swear to God I'll pull the roof down and build a dollhouse with it in which I'll torture every damn Barbie you ever owned. I know that's anachronistic and shit but you think I care? DO YOU THINK I CARE?

You know I do, baby doll. You know I do.

And there goes that bird again, back through the smoke that brought about the unspeakable change. Would the reversal of the action take the cat-past-life out of its birdbrain and restore it to some sort of virginal purity?

Course not, darlin'. Life don't work that way.

(Morning Milking Evening Milking opened at Theater For The New City in spring 2000)

Two Gentlemen of Verona (Summer: 1999)

2010-05-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

I got the call from Nagle Jackson about a month after I'd returned from Chapel Hill. Nagle had directed "Beauty Queen" and had moved on to Shakespeare In Santa Fe, an outdoor Shakespeare festival he'd been directing at for years.

The actor who'd been hired to play Proteus had to drop out and Nagle thought of me.

I was reluctant to leave New York again so soon on the heels of having been away but the lure of doing Shakespeare professionally was too great. I had done the Public Theater Shakespeare Lab the summer before and 'Tis Pity She's A Whore the year before that and felt as if my calling might be in the classics. I had an affinity for it and a love of it.

So on rather short notice I was jetting off to the American Southwest to do an ancient comedy.

Nagle's directing style is about as subtle and hands-off as you can get. I don't know how he does it. He gets exactly what he wants but never seems to be enforcing his will upon anyone. He reminds me of the great coaches in sports who handle rosters full of superstars. The wrong hand at the helm could be disastrous in spite of all the talent. Any ego coming from the leadership position could send things spiraling out of control.

But Nagle Jackson is a pro's pro. And I feel very blessed to have worked with him twice in quick succession. It was very good for my confidence.

I only remember one difficult moment in rehearsal. We were working on a bit in which I begin losing my mind and basically threaten to force myself on my new crush. She tries to run away, I grab her hand and pull her close to me, she pulls away to the length of my extended arm and then I pull her back. It was a classic melodramatic piece of blocking that would maintain the romantic thrust without being creepy or violent.

I could not synchronize the lines and movements. We were pretty far along in rehearsals and the combination of blocking and words should have been easy for me to grasp. We spent more time on it than we ought to have and Nagle almost lost his temper with me. He got out of his chair and said smartly, "No, like this!" and proceeded to demonstrate exactly how it should go.

And what do you know, that was all I needed. So even in the ONE moment when he lost his patience he delivered the goods. An amazingly talented man. Also a playwright of some note and one of the most interesting sweet people I've ever met.

Seeing as our crowds would be upwards of one thousand people a night and we performed on a giant stage nestled high in a mountain campus, we couldn't settle for realistic or subtle depictions. Everything had to be writ large to reach people almost one hundred yards away.

The set was a giant pink adobe fortress, behind which stretched away a massive mountain vista above and a sprawling valley below. Truly the most spectacular setting for a play as you could imagine. The setting was vaguely Victorian or perhaps a bit later and the women wore corseted dresses and the men wore sharp suits and hats.

My challenge was to keep the audience on my side as I ditched my longtime love and ardently pursued my best friend's fiancee. But William Shakespeare does most of the work for you and the audience was immediately caught up in my madness, loving what it said about our own capacity for folly and passion.

Maria and Cashel came to visit for a short time and then Cash stayed with me once Maria left. He was two and a half. He loved going in the pool at the hotel I was staying at. Maria tried to bring him to see the show and from way back in the massive crowd I heard the small voice chirp, "Daddy!" She had to take him back to the hotel because he couldn't watch the show without yelling for me.

My parents came along with my mom's mom and it is one of the last times I spent with her in which she was lucid and present. So I'll always cherish that.

I made a lifelong friend in Ted Bettridge who played my best friend Valentine. I got to spend weeks with Tim and Laura and Reeve, my friends from Providence.

And I got to say those words. Even in perhaps his slightest work he still managed to grab the attention of a modern throng a thousand strong and whip them into a frenzy of laughter.

The Beauty Queen of Leenane (Winter/Spring: 1999)

2010-05-18T10:17:00.000-07:00

After "Angel Wings" I truly felt at a crossroads. My creative circle had centered around the 42nd Street Workshop and I could never trust them again. We had trotted out an abomination as casually as I take my wallet out of my pocket to buy a coffee.

On the day after the night that we were to tech "Angel Wings" I had the worst audition (I hope and pray) that I have ever had.

Someone had obtained the rights to the novel "Trainspotting" and had written a play from it. The movie had come out in 1996 but no one had ever secured the rights to a theatrical play. Irvine Welsh, the novelist, apparently gave his stamp of approval to the project.

My agents called me and said I had an audition to play Tommy, described in the breakdowns as "a gentle giant".

The first audition was at about 5PM before I had to head to The Neighborhood Playhouse to start tech rehearsal.

The casting director had never met me before. She took an instant liking to me. She was a young hip Manhattanite and she immediately realized that I had not been submitted for the right part. She said I was definitely the Ewan MacGregor type. She said I should come to the callbacks the next day ready to audition for Renton.

Needless to say I was psyched. I was a bit concerned that my agents had gotten the submission so wrong which meant that I'd prepared for an audition that I wouldn't give. I was also worried because the tech would most likely go really late and I wouldn't have much time to prepare for the audition. Looming over all this was the damn play "Angel Wings" itself.

Of course the tech lasted til almost 2AM. Of course the next morning I got calls for three commercial auditions, last minute. I tried to work on the audition when I got home from the tech but I was way too exhausted. I figured I'd stay at home and work on it all day. But no, I headed out to smile and hawk products and hustle jobs. I bundled little Cashel into his stroller and headed into the city.

The three auditions were in three separate parts of the city. They were spaced out in such a manner that I'd be in transit all day long. Bringing Cashel to commercial auditions was a snap. He'd be asleep in his stroller or an actor I knew would sit with him while I put myself on tape.

But for theater or tv auditions it was more complicated.

I arranged with a friend to meet me at the Barnes and Noble near the "Trainspotting" audition which was at 4:45PM.

I'd barely been able to work on the long heroin fueled monologue, let alone the Scottish accent it required. As I sat in the hallway getting more and more nervous as I realized how unprepared I was, I heard the guy before me doing his rendition of what I would be doing shortly.

He was actually Scottish. Any tiny confidence I could have mined from the depths of my consciousness evaporated in that instant and by the time I entered the room I was a wreck.

The flirty casting agent hooked her arm in my elbow and walked me into the room, whispering in my ear, "Best for last", as I was the last actor they would see that day. I was about to prove her so wrong.

I started the monologue. My accent sounded like a drunk frat boy doing a Mike Myers imitation. Then it morphed into Sean Connery trying to do a Russian accent. And for a while there it was straight up Hillbilly.

I asked if I could start again. They said fine. Again a stream of unidentifiable American twisted into cartoon shapes started coming from my mouth. Again I said I'd start the monologue over. This last effort so unhinged me that halfway through I simply stopped, looked at them all behind their table, and stopped. I said, "I think I'm just gonna go. This isn't working."

And the casting director who thought I looked like Ewan Macgregor and brought me directly to callbacks and said "Best for last" less than three minutes earlier looked at me and said, "Well at least you know."

Needless to say, having to go perform "Angel Wings" for the first time in front of an audience that night was a hammer blow to my ego. I began seriously, for the first and only time ever, that perhaps I wasn't as talented as I thought I was, perhaps I just wasn't an actor after all.

A week later I got another audition that required an accent. "The Beauty Queen of Leenane" had been the toast of Broadway that year and was about to have its first regional production mounted at Playmakers Rep in Chapel Hill, NC.

A surge of determination arose in me and I was damned if I wasn't going to get that part. I decided before the audition that it was mine. In the audition I literally ate the scenes alive. The director was a gentle man who reminded me of many of my uncles. He gave me a few tweaks and I went with them unreservedly. I knew I'd gotten the part.

I went through the rest of the "Angel Wings" run less affected by having to abase myself nightly in front of strangers. I had a job. I was going to get my Equity Card. I was going to North Carolina.

Now, I've written here about meeting Melody on the campus there, in a series of posts centering around the legendary rock and roll club Cat's Cradle that sits in a strip mall right off campus. As follows: Cat's Cradle, Pt. 1: Alone, Combustible, Cat's Cradle, Pt. 2: What a Superdrag, Cat's Cradle, Pts. 3 Thru Now: Emmitt Swimming, Cat's Cradle, Pts. 3 Thru Now: Fate Taps Me On The Shoulder and Cat's Cradle, Pts 3 Thru Now: Emmitt Swimming, The Wig, The Almost-Fight, The Lie.

The personal side of this story is, aside from Cashel being born, the crucial event in my adult life.

But the actual theatrical event? Total magic from beginning to end. Pauline Flanagan played the twisted mother. Pauline was an Irish grande dame of the theater who had been in the original production of "Ulysses In Night Town" with Zero Mostel, she'd been a close friend of Harold Pinter who wrote with her in mind, and she was a consummate pro. This part is not an easy one and she was in her seventies. She was a monster.

The theater was a raised three quarter thrust stage which is to my way of thinking one of the most difficult playing spaces. You have all of the sight line challenges that come with playing in the round, all of the sight line challenges that come from being raised above the first few rows of seats, but with none of the benefits that those attributes can give if they are prominent.

Pauline and I had a moment in our last scene that we knew we could get a big laugh on. But the position of her rocking chair, raised on a slight platform above the rest of the floor, made getting this laugh very difficult. We schemed and plotted to wring that laugh out of at least one audience before we were through.

Every day the moment would come and even though our characters were antagonists we would share a funny little look every time the laugh didn't come. She was a blast. When we finally got it we celebrated like we'd just won Oscars.

This was the first time I'd ever done a part in which I'd recently seen the original done. The guy who played my part on Broadway, a great actor named Tom Murphy, had been indelibly burned into my brain. How would I escape that shadow?

Somehow our director, Nagle Jackson, managed to steer me away from the rocks. He made everything seem 100% natural and unique to us. I quickly forgot that the play had ever been done anywhere else. We took that thing and ran with it.

Rumor had it that Martin McDonagh might be coming to see it, seeing as this would be the first time his play had been taken and played without him having a big hand in it. But that never materialized.

So in the space of a few short months I'd gone from a terrible play done for nothing and the worst audition perhaps in the history of auditions to fully inhabiting the sick and twisted world that Martin McDonagh created in the fields of Leenane.

Pauline Flanagan passed away in 2003 after a long bout with Cancer. She had a giant collection of giraffes that she'd gathered over the years. People would buy them for her on their trips. She was that kind of person.

At the close of the play I wrote the following small book of poetry inspired by the play and the performances I'd been lucky enough to witness.

I called it Pageantry and Savages.

Angel Wings (Fall: 1998)

2010-05-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

I know I've been lucky in my theater life. There were a couple of sub-par shows at URI, shows that didn't pan out the way anyone would have liked. There was one short-lived disaster at Looking Glass Theater that got shut down almost immediately. But for the most part I went from one fantastic show to the next, culminating in my NYC debut in 'Tis Pity She's A Whore'.

The Bell Curve was about to even shit out in a hurry.

At the time, being cast in 'Angel Wings' seemed like a coup of sorts. It was a new play written by Murray Schisgal who'd won a Tony, co-written 'Tootsie', and still co-owned a production company with Dustin Hoffman. He was in his mid-seventies but had a new play ready to go.

For the past year I'd been studying with a fantastic acting teacher named Sam Schacht. He had taught my sister at the New School Actor's Studio program which James Lipton has brought to the world via the Bravo specials. Sam taught a private class and I signed up. His studio was affiliated with a theater company, The 42nd Street Workshop.

They did a cold reading series and fostered new playwrights. I began frequenting their Monday night gatherings and did many readings of both classics and new works. I'd turned down a role in a play they were doing that would eventually turn into the 'Finding Neverland' movie. I went to a rehearsal and realized that I'd be pretending to be eight years old, probably wearing knickers and talking in a cute little boy Cockney accent and fled the scene. When it made its way onto the big screen I had a little moment of regret but I figured they'd probably get a REAL eight year old English kid. Which they did.

But 'Angel Wings' came along and I auditioned for it anyway.

I thought this script was cute and had some funny moments. It was absurd and I liked that it just WENT for it. A wealthy businessman who has alienated his whole family dies and comes back as an ugly misshapen hunchback. He has to get everyone that he fucked over to love him in spite of his outward appearance, to make them love him for his soul or he will be damned eternally. Funny, right?

Well, it might have been. But this production was about as wrong-headed as any creative enterprise I've ever heard of.

First of all, Schisgal insisted that it was not a farce but that it was a romantic comedy. In spite of the fact that there wasn't really a romance at the center of it and that characters did absolutely absurd things for reasons that were never quite clear.

For example, I played the young son of this mogul. I am obsessed with insects. I wear safari clothing and carry a butterfly net with me at all times. I fall in love with the young French woman who my father was romancing. In the scenes that I have with her I begin to talk with a French ACCENT. Not actual French, but English with a French accent. Now, this makes NO sense on the surface of it. If I wanted to woo her I wouldn't speak in a way that might make her feel self-conscious. So why do I speak with a French accent? The only plausible way to play the scenes is that I am so smitten that I have gone a bit bonkers, that my sanity has crumbled a bit. But, no...Murray insisted that I was merely in love with her.

Now, I of course bucked at this direction. And, keep in mind that Murray was never on the scene. He merely told the director what he wanted and what we were supposed to do. He didn't seem to understand his own play.

This made rehearsals excruciating. The director was trying to dig deep into the words, as if this were some Arthur Miller satire, or a long lost Tennessee Williams dramedy. We did improvs that lasted upwards of thirty minutes with actors just rambling on, jerking off to each other and for each other. I would leave rehearsal fuming but somehow still thinking that I needed to do the play. If something like this happened today I wouldn't be back the next DAY.

We rehearsed FOREVER. The dread in my stomach just grew as we ground whatever comic life existed in the script beneath our boot heels. Pretty soon we were in the space and I was wearing my costume and it seemed as if my worst fears were being realized. I was dressed like a Boy Scout, speaking in a French accent for no apparent reason, and doing pratfalls that barely made literal sense.

The sinking feeling in my stomach grew as we approached opening. There was a comedy black hole taking shape on that stage and no audience would survive the gravitational murder of it.

Now, often times the natural insecurity of the actor combined with the stress of mounting a production will cause bouts of self doubt. Performance anxiety will invade but that will be lessened as you delve deeper into how/why you are executing the piece at hand.

That was not how 'Angel Wings' went down. The further we got into the process the greater the distance we created between us and any semblance of entertainment. Shows like this are not just BAD. There is something to be said for throwing a play up on its feet and falling down with it. But then there is a special kind of production that enters some sickly realm of achievement, an inverse of excitement, a dead spot.

The audience is minding their own business, going about their lives, when suddenly you turn out the house lights on them and they very quickly realize that they are in quicksand up to their noses and they can barely breathe.

I have never felt that kind of hostility from an audience. The silence was AGGRESSIVE. Within five minutes of the first line a blanket of stoicism was laid over the gathered assembly like a sheet over a corpse. They could not wait for it to be over. This was a fait accompli before I ever MADE MY ENTRANCE.

Once I did, things got worse because my character is the most farcical aspect of a play that had been drained of any sense of lightness or farce. So what should have been one more oddball in the oddball soup seemed like the desperate act of a street mime - "Oh, they don't like me in a box with my little beret and white face and leotard so I'm going to GO UP TO THEM AND MAKE THEM INTERACT WITH ME."

When you can hear an audience moving around in their seats you know there is trouble. If they are engaged they sit still. And if there is movement the laughter will mask it. But if you can hear trousers against wood, heels on floor, hands rubbing necks, you are DOOMED. And we were DOOMED.

I remember slogging through my scenes with the French girl, carrying my butterfly net, speaking in a faux French accent, tripping over the back of a couch and landing on my ass, all to angry silence. I wrote a song about it called "Pratfalls For Crickets".

I left the theater every night thinking that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I didn't make it after all, that I might just hang up the spikes if this is what acting was all about. In the space of a few short weeks I'd gone from excitement at working with a Dustin Hoffman ally to contemplating retirement.

Somewhere in space a galaxy was snuffed out of existence by the comedic inertia we invoked.

'Tis Pity She's A Whore (Spring: 1997)

2010-05-14T10:12:00.000-07:00

I left Rhode Island for New York in the winter of 1994. Over the next two years I would hustle auditions for student films (a few of which I booked and shot), I obsessively sent out head shots each week to every possible Back Stage notice (only one or two of which ever panned out into an actual call), and I worked a variety of day jobs to keep the stalled dream alive.

Compared to the constant stream of acting I'd done in the past six years in Rhode Island, things slowed to a veritable trickle.

Maria and I got married in August of 1996. We came back to the city and immediately began working together on the Urban Legends project. By this time I had a commercial agent and was freelancing with a theatrical one. I had booked an episode of "Law and Order" and shared a set with Benjamin Bratt and the late great Jerry Orbach. The day I found out I'd booked that job I booked a video for the band Live which you can watch here...

But I hadn't done a play since "True West" in the winter of '93. Almost four years earlier.

And then Frank Pisco asked me to do "Tis Pity She's A Whore" at Expanded Arts. Frank passed away too young a couple of years ago. We had a bit of a falling out which I will get to later but I always thought Frank was a great guy and quite a director. He had a brilliant idea for "Whore"...

He set the play in a bomb shelter in 1950's America. Nuclear paranoia and cultural repression force a kind of myopia on the denizens of the play.

The plot is as follows: Giovanni develops a growing sexual obsession with his sister Annabella. Upon hearing this confession, his priest implores him to turn his thoughts to God. But he cannot. Annabella is promised to be married to a powerful Senator. This impending cataclysm forces Giovanni's hand and he seduces his sister, almost but not quite against her will. She becomes pregnant which the Senator discovers on the eve of the wedding. Giovanni cannot bear to see his sister married and kills her, cutting her heart out. He is then pounced upon by the wedding party and killed himself.

The production was held in a storefront theater in lower Manhattan. The theater seated about twenty five people who sat in chairs lined up against either wall. The length of the space was about thirty feet and the width about twelve. The audience sat on either side of the rectangle and the action took place almost in their laps.

Frank also wanted the strange romantic music of the 40's to play a big part. On several occasions throughout the show actors sang along to standards of that era. I sang "Let's Fall In Love", not the one you think you know but a different song entirely, as Giovanni seduced Annabella, playing a romantic song and serenading her.

This love scene is still one of the more shocking things I've ever done as an actor. The scene was very sexy, the most explicit sexual scene I've ever done on any stage, but it took place literally inches from the audience. I stripped her down to a negligee while singing softly. Then I stood over her and stripped down myself, to a period appropriate pair of boxer shorts. Ford's scene ends with a declaration of love between the siblings but Frank rightfully took the sexual repression of the setting and exploded it by having the scene continue. We began kissing on the blanket I'd laid out for her and then crawled under the blanket to consummate the act.

The wonderful Siobhan Mahoney played my sister and we are friends to this day partially because of this strange theatrical gauntlet we had to traverse each night.

You could feel a dual response happen simultaneously. The scene was deliberately titillating. Sensuous. If you didn't know the context it would have been a steamy sex scene. But layered over that was this patina of disgust, a rejection of what was obviously happening. People DID NOT WANT US TO KISS. But they were turned on by it too. A great great moment.

The climax of the play involved me coming on stage carrying her bloody heart in my fist. We bought a pig heart and drenched it in fake blood. This was difficult for me. I don't know if you've ever held a real pig heart in your hand but I have and let me tell you, it isn't pleasant.

For the second time in the evening the audience was seriously challenged. It was obvious that this was not a prop. You didn't have to wonder whether that was tissue or man-made. It was clear. A collective retch rippled through the seats as they took in the fact that I'd killed her but also that I held the remnants of her life engine in my hand.

And Frank Pisco had envisioned all of this before we got started.

And now I'll explain the rift that occurred between Frank and myself, indeed between many members of the cast and myself as well.

I booked a Wendy's commercial. A national commercial. Which nowadays doesn't mean much but back then it could mean a lot of money. Later that year I booked a K-Mart commercial and made almost $20,000 on it in under a month. So this was not something I could turn down. It shot in Miami. I would have to miss a Sunday show in order to fly out to be in Miami on time.

Frank was livid. We didn't have an understudy. The show would have to be canceled for that night. I had my first taste of the balancing act that goes along with any kind of success. Frank kept accusing me of being unprofessional. I reminded him that I was making no money doing this show and that I'd already donated upwards of one hundred hours of rehearsal and performance. Maria and I were expecting a child by November of that year and there was simply no way I could refuse this job.

The cast was similarly angry. We had two shows to do before I headed out of town and the atmosphere was very grim. They were furious with me. On one level I understood but I also saw how this separated me from them. If any of them had booked a paying gig somewhere I'd have had no problem with them taking it. It is show BUSINESS. That is just how it goes. Free theater or paying job? I will take the paying job almost 99 times out of 100. That is why theaters have understudies.

But it took several years for the stain to wash away, for Frank to truly let his anger at me go. We were friends before that and not really friends afterward. In fact, on one night when Mike was in town later that year, Frank actually left a gathering at a bar because I arrived. So the feeling cut him deep.

I had no patience with this. As far as I was concerned I'd made the right choice for myself and my family.

The bitterness ebbed however and I saw him on several occasions before I moved from New York. We made peace with one another. Or, I should say he made peace with me. I never had a gripe with him.

We risked a lot on that production, all for a play written in 1633, and what I'll remember most is how we made the audience squirm in their seats, wishing we would stop doing what we were doing because it was BOTHERING THEM SO MUCH.

The Looking Glass Shows (Fall, Winter, Spring: 1992-1993)

2010-05-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

I ended my last post, as I am wont to do, with a dramatic exit line.

"I would never perform on stage in Rhode Island again."

And, as with most exit lines, it might be effective but that doesn't make it altogether true.

"True West" closed in January, if I recall correctly. And while I would never again rehearse and put up a play at night for grownups in Little Rhody, I was still doing two shows a day with Looking Glass Theater.

So before I make the fateful journey down I-95 and begin recounting my New York theater exploits I have to give a short precis of each of the magical shows we did in elementary schools all over New England.

But first, my audition two years earlier.

My friend Mitchell had been the third member of the troupe for a year but was moving to Chicago. He suggested that I take over for him. I thought this made it a done deal so I went to the audition much like I went to the "Camelot" one, full of what would turn out to be false confidence.

Diane Postoian put me through one of the more exhausting audition processes I've ever been through. And when I look back at what the job actually entailed, she was absolutely right to do so.

The offices of Looking Glass Theater were housed above a church in a leafy corner of the West Side of Providence. The space was filled with props from former shows, toys from the church day care and shelves and shelves of books. It feels like where the kids in the Peter Pan family might live.

We ran through a few scenes from some material they'd used in the past. We ran through a few scenes from a few of the shows they were currently running.

And then Diane said the words that can still shrink my testicles in any audition.

"Let's do some improv!"

Now, I know there are actors out there who just can't wait to be given permission to go off script. I am not one of them, especially in an audition situation. Part of this is a block that I've tried to approach over the years by facing it head on. I actually joined an improv company in Providence to get over my issue.

Part of the trouble is that when I go OFF, when I really go OFF, I tend to cross lines. My friends and family know this about me, which is why many of them are surprised when I say I don't really like improv. But I have, in the name of humor, ruffled so many feathers in my life that I can't really trust myself to play by the rules. I have made good friends cry. I've also said things which I thought were hilarious which offended just about everyone in earshot. I once had to leave a game of "Scruples" in college.

So part of my trepidation comes from a real sense of truth about my sense of humor and how utterly inappropriate it can get.

But part of it comes from a real love of STRUCTURE. To my way of thinking, the best art comes from forethought, from injecting spontaneity into craft. Do I think Sacha Baron Cohen is talented? Yes. Do I like the Borat movie? Not one bit. I think he was a thousand times more interesting in Talladega Nights. That's just me.

In any case, when Diane told me that the next phase of the process would be improv based I felt a giant lock close, shutting the door to my access. I started to sweat. And the cool job that I didn't know I really wanted started to slip away.

I don't even remember what she asked me to do, but she really needed to know whether I could think on my feet this way. The job entailed constant interactions with large groups of schoolkids, none of which would be scripted. Which I had no problem envisioning myself doing, but Diane didn't KNOW me, how could she KNOW that I'd be fine?

Anyway, the audition dragged on for what seemed like hours. I think that Diane was confused...why was the spark that she saw in my readings not present anymore? Why was this confident funny actor sweating bullets and stuttering?

Finally she asked me to ACT out a story from my childhood.

And I did, telling the infamous Case Of The Governor's Limo story.

By the end I was crouched on a tricycle pedaling madly, completely transported back to that day.

Diane later told me that this was the moment that sealed the deal for her. I wandered off into the Providence day EXHAUSTED.

I went into a whirlwind rehearsal process, learning the slate of shows that Looking Glass offered. There was a literacy show for younger kids that didn't really have a plot, it was more an interactive slide-show designed to get kids interested in books.

What I was most excited about was the production of "From The Mixed Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler" in which I played Jamie, the resourceful younger brother of the heroine of the book. This book was a huge part of my childhood. I used to fantasize about doing just what the characters in the book do, run away and live in a museum!

There was a short lived production of "Strega Nona" that was shot down by Tommy Di Paola's lawyers. There was a disastrous adaptation of "The Search For Delicious" that was not directed by Diane and that we cast members eventually demanded be removed from the lineup. The schools were usually furious with us after that show, so bad was it. They were used to GREAT shows from Looking Glass and the response was akin to a patron who comes to their favorite restaurant every day and gets their usual only to find that it is DISGUSTING. The outrage is tripled because your expectations are so high.

In any case, my proudest memory from Looking Glass Theater is the show we created for Delta Dental on a State Grant. Taxpayer money put to good use! And I mean that.

Delta Dental had been given a big chunk of change to create a show that promoted taking good care of your teeth. We got the contract. They didn't know what they wanted. We came up with a show that ran for three or four years, long after I left.

And here is where the improv gene started to kick in in a different way. We had to create the show from scratch. The two actresses, Wendy and Christa, Diane and myself holed up above the church and started brainstorming and playing around. A few intense weeks later we had a show.

In it, Sweet Tooth is on trial for causing tooth decay. Wendy played Sweet Tooth as a Southern Belle in a Kentucky Derby hat. I played the lawyer prosecuting her for her terrible crime. But Christa played the kid who had to ultimately take responsibility for the health of her teeth, it wasn't Sweet Tooth's fault!

At least, that's how I remember it. I am probably getting some details wrong. The play was an absolute blast. The kids got to play teeth, they got to play germs, they got to play plaque, they got to be toothbrushes. The interactive aspect of the show was key.

I had a great line that I still remember to this day which ended with me browbeating Sweet Tooth about her "heinous sugar habit" which my Southern accent twisted into "HIGH-anus sugra habit". I loved that line.

But what I remember most about Looking Glass Theater is driving around Rhode Island in our van, carrying our show with us like we were on a cart pulled by a horse from town to town in the Middle Ages. We drank coffee, smoked cigarettes, talked about our lives and then turned right around and did shows at the drop of a hat.

I was going through a very difficult time and those relationships got me through it. So thanks, Diane, thanks for insisting that what I was offering wasn't quite enough, for sensing that I had more to give. And thanks to Wendy and Christa for putting up with my bullshit and pulling me through my own darkness.

True West (Winter: 1993)

2010-05-12T10:14:00.000-07:00

My relationship with Maria was unraveling. My bass player had moved to Alaska, effectively folding the band. New York beckoned like a siren to a sailor who knew the legend. Sure I could listen to the voices but the rocks were littered with the carcasses of those foolish enough to risk the attraction. I was petrified, not in terms of fear, but fixed, fossilized prematurely.

Along came Sam Shepherd. A production of "True West" organized by the woman who'd done the choreography for "Kind Ness". She must have sensed my hair trigger mentality because she cast me as Lee, the desert drifter with a permanent chip on his shoulder as opposed to the repressed frustrated writer, Austin. Opposite me in that role she cast an excellent local actor named Chris Perrotti. A very interesting bit of opposite casting as Chris was much bigger than me. This made the intimidation factor at the center of the play very complex.

We began rehearsing. The actors playing our mother and Austin's agent respectively were weak but the play doesn't need all four to work. If you have the brothers down the thrust of the story happens no matter what.

Chris and I had a great working relationship. We enjoyed each other's company which is also crucial to the depth of the play. If there is only animosity the play is nothing but a cock fight.

The winter of 1993 was cold and wet. We put the play on out at Rhode Island College where I'd run the final race of my high school cross country career. I'd not been back on that campus since. The theater was a characterless auditorium, more like a high school events hall than a theater. But the set was excellent, designed and built by Bill Denise, and we managed to evoke the heat and desolation of a desert community in the middle of a New England winter.

I also recorded a couple of my songs to be used as sound cues. I clearly was over-identifying with the sunburnt brain-scape of Lee and I think it hastened my departure from my relationship and from my home state.

I would rub dirt all over myself to prepare. I didn't wash my costume between shows. I poured beer over my head (non-alcoholic, of course) and didn't shave.

It was a good show. The fight between the brothers that precedes the stand-off ending was brutal, and since the director was a choreographer she was great with the movement aspect of such a confrontation. I wound up with a phone cord wrapped around my neck bucking underneath my brother like a wolf caught in a trap.

The post show beer was always very sweet with this one as Chris and I continually needed to reconnect to keep the conflict at the center of the play from bleeding into our off stage interaction. We would give each other the tough guy side-hug and toast the other performance.

Lee is constantly haunted by the lure of the desert, by the purity of self-sufficiency and loneliness. No hassles, no people, no society, no nothing.

The parts of me that connected with that made for a very visceral play. But those parts also kept me on a path of self-destruction that I am just now coming to terms with. Unlike Lee I always tried to counteract those tendencies by embracing connection, by moving towards tenderness. But I thought I could have my cake and eat it too.

Don't kid yourself. That cake eats you, friends.

Within a few months after the close of this play, Maria and I broke up for the first time and I moved back home to save up money to move to New York. I would never perform onstage in Rhode Island again.

Kind Ness (Winter: 1992)

2010-05-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

Having made the decision to proceed chronologically, I am still not quite prepared for today.

I finished up "On The Verge" at URI, ending my college theater career once and for all. I moved into an apartment in Providence with a good friend from high school and a college friend of his. We shared a giant three bedroom apartment for $450 a month. Yes, we each had to cough up the giant sum of $150 a month.

I was taking in a paycheck doing children's theater. I can't really quantify how much I was learning in that arena but suffice it to say that room after room full of eight year old audiences will hone your energy real quick if you have any talent to begin with. Those kids don't know about TACT so they will just start talking to each other or themselves if they are bored. So you better be interesting. It should be like military service in France. Obligatory if you want to be an actor.

To augment that salary I was still working several shifts a week at the group homes. This combination of income made making my rent a piece of cake.

I sought out other opportunity in the strange little theater world of Providence. There was a notice put up for auditions at Perishable Theater for a play called "Kind Ness" by Ping Chong. I signed up.

I got the part and my life was changed forever.

I was still dating Marissa when rehearsals started but before we opened we'd broken up for good. I remember one rehearsal in particular I showed up at Perishable in tears because I'd finally broken it off with her. I wasn't sad that the relationship was over, no, that was definitely the right thing. But it served to show me how lost I was, how far from a true connection, how alone.

"Kind Ness" was like being thrust inside one of Joseph Cornell's boxes. Everything was beautiful and strange. Everything had multiple meanings. Stories existed on a basic plot level but also spread out to stranger places, twisting in and out of reality like a skein of mineral woven through coal.

Kate Lohman directed, being the first person ever to cast me who wasn't in some way connected to the University of Rhode Island. This was a big boost for me, to know that my work translated to strangers and wasn't only a function of familiarity. She was great to work with. The play is very conceptual and she'd clearly thought all of that through but the main thrust of her direction dealt with the relationships.

Chong's play tells the story of a group of children. We follow their lives from elementary school to young adulthood. They get their hearts broken, they go off to the Vietnam War, they sell out, they have nervous breakdowns. In other words, they are like everyone else.

But one of them is different. Buzz. Everyone remembers when Buzz came to the school for the first time. Buzz is a gorilla.

A kind of love triangle ensues between my character, Buzz and Lulu, the pin-up free spirit whose lack of inhibition sends her down a frightening path of her own.

We watch the innocent games that they play as youngsters shift and morph until they are hardened young adults still gunning for that kind of abandon without any of the freedom they didn't know they'd taken for granted.

It is a devastating work, one that I continue to think about all these years later.

A woman named Maria McManus was cast as Lulu. I knew no one in the cast which was also something new for me. I remember being very nervous on the first day of rehearsal, a table read of the play in a brick conference room at Perishable headquarters. I was literally in my first adult phase even though I was twenty three years old.

I was about to grow up fast.

I was still reeling from my breakup with Marissa. I was struggling to adjust to living on my own. I was in shock at my college life having ended. I threw myself into this play as if it was the last thing on earth.

Weeks went by before I started relating to the cast as actual people, so deep was I into the world of the play. Everyone gathered at a local bar one night. Maria and I wound up sitting next to each other and flew into a monster of a conversation. I don't remember the details, Maria might. But I walked away stunned at the connection I was feeling.

And worried. Maria had just gotten married a couple of months earlier.

I tried to divert the feelings. I wondered what to do. I was coming off a relationship that had in retrospect been nothing but a physical attraction wrapped up in a false connection promoted by the unity of a cast. I sure as hell didn't want to go down that road again, especially with a married woman.

I was also coming to terms with how negative my outlook on the world had become. Aside from my wonderful theater experiences, my personal life had been turbulent to an almost absurd level in college. It soured me, made me mistrust everyone, discount everything.

Somehow the connection I discovered with Maria changed all that. Coming so fast on the heels of such a disastrous explosive relationship, it made me realize that yes, I was a moral person, I did have standards, I didn't want some empty fling, I wanted a real relationship.

Unfortunately the person I discovered this through was already in a real relationship.

We tried to ignore it for a time but then it became impossible to get around it. We had a lunch near where she worked, to talk.

It is hard to go back to these moments now. So much has happened. Almost twenty years has passed. She ultimately left her husband to be with me. We broke up once in Providence, got back together once I moved to New York, got married, had the amazing Cashel, got divorced ourselves.

But that lunch was the start of it all, really. I could tell that she was confused and half-heartedly hoping that I would be up for some illicit connection. But I simply couldn't bring myself to open that particular can of worms. I had to protect myself.

And throughout it all we were performing this amazing play, this strange fever dream of a vision. At the end of the play my character Alvin has lost everything. The girl he has loved since he was eight has chosen a gorilla over him. The gorilla, Buzz, was his best friend. He went to Vietnam and came back in a wheelchair. His existence has eroded, like a majestic rock at the confluence of a river and the sea, ultimately worn down to a minute pebble.

This situation would drag on for months after the play closed. I wrote songs at a feverish rate and the pain forced new levels of artistry out of me.

I was so young.

It seems impossible that I could have been so young. I felt so old at the time, so burdened. I left the cast party closing night feeling as if I was driving over the edge of a horizon, but not the horizon I grew up with, the real horizon as I knew it to exist.

No, the horizon I sped towards was as it seemed to explorers of yesteryear, a mythic drop which lead to God knows where, who knows why. I screamed as I drove, thinking that I would never ever recover, just hoping that I wouldn't fall forever.

The Geography Of Yearning: (Fall, 1992)

2010-05-10T09:48:00.000-07:00

I wish I could take credit for the amazing title of today's post, but alas, I cannot. Eric Overmyer, who would go on to be one of the main writers for "Law And Order", coined the phrase, which is a secondary title to his genius play "On The Verge".

I started working as an actor for Looking Glass Theater in the fall of 1992. I'd done "South Pacific" at Theater-By-The-Sea that summer and was now going to be working full time as an actor. My ambition lay buried deep inside like a virus.

The producer of Theater-By-The-Sea was a Renaissance man named Richard Ericson. He had been producing plays for the better part of a decade in New York and had gotten a group of investors together and totally revamped Theater-By-The-Sea. He also was a dialect coach who'd worked with high-profile movie stars when they needed specific accent work. Richard hired Judith Swift to direct "South Pacific" and then she asked him to direct a play at URI that fall.

I was technically still a student at URI. I was taking the final English class that I needed to complete my English Literature degree. I had never heard of "On The Verge, or The Geography of Yearning" although I was certainly intimately familiar with the concept.

The play takes three modern women on a journey through time where they come face to face with eight different male characters, all ostensibly to be played by the same actor. Since it was a college production they split the eight parts up between four different actors. This still fulfilled the need of the play to place the male/female relationship in some sort of theoretical loop whereby certain roles are expected to be played.

The play begins in Victorian England with three women on an expedition. You slowly begin to realize that they are actually traveling forward through time. The two characters I played were Alphonse and Gus.

Alphonse is actually a nameless cannibal who has EATEN a man named Alphonse and taken on his soul. Alphonse had been a dirigible pilot who crashed his balloon in an unfortunate locale and was eaten. This led to some confusion in the character as he could talk openly about the balloon but didn't really know what it was.

Later in the play the women have traveled all the way to 1955. Gus is the epitome of the 1950's American teenager who is pumping gas and chewing gum.

It was strange to be back on the Will Theater stage. I was acting during the day in elementary schools all over the state and living at home. My life was an odd mix of adulthood and prolonged adolescence.

I'd started a band. I was making money. But I was still in college and living with my parents. Marissa and I were quickly disintegrating. She was a full-time RISD student and had an entire existence happening that had nothing to do with me. The happy little world of the summer stock romance had almost completely dissipated, like a brake pad worn away until metal screeched against metal.

I was very busy. I did two shows a day, rehearsed "On The Verge" at night, and had one or two band rehearsals a week as well.

The set for "On The Verge" was magical. It looked like an old-fashioned pocket-watch, the kind hung from a fob, open on the stage. It was highly raked, which is a theater term meaning it was tilted towards the audience. When you stood on it it was like standing on a steep hill. You could stand under the set and have your feet on the stage floor.

This led to my favorite entrance that I've ever made in any theatrical production.

The women have fought their way forward into the future, marveling at the changes that they've witnessed while also struggling to make sense out of the MAN they keep encountering who seems hellbent on making their journey intolerable. As they hit the 1950's they have had it up to here with the MAN.

For my entrance I headed down into the tunnels beneath the stage. Quietly. There, on an elaborate pulley system, sat a gas pump right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. I wore jeans and a t-shirt with a baseball hat. A team of backstage workers sat silently in little cubby-corners waiting for my cue.

When it came, they pulled on their levers and I flew fifteen feet up into the air through an opening in the stage. From the audience's perspective, a hole opened up in the stage and I shot up through it, snapping my gum and polishing the gas pump with a handkerchief. It was a great stage effect.

Of course the women have no idea what a car is, what Chiclets are, let alone any frame of reference to deal with an American teenager. But Gus is, for the first time, an innocent in his dealings with the women. He doesn't actively try to throw them off, he simply is too young to know anything.

I had a hard time with this role. He was so fresh, so without guile, so positive. It was very difficult for me to get in touch with those qualities. It was as if I'd lost the ability to perceive them in me. I remember Richard trying to get us to improv the scene to achieve some sort of a breakthrough. I was very rigid and resistant. I didn't like improv as a rehearsal tool. I still don't but I would be so much more capable of giving over to the experience now. Then? I couldn't let go.

Strange that I'd spent almost a full year in a foreign country and yet was still almost entirely incapable of having an open mind. I was busy in artistic pursuit pretty much twenty-four-seven but there was no release. No sense of achievement. I was Jetson on a treadmill.

You'd think I might have cottoned on the the thrust of Overmyer's play, but when you don't allow yourself to yearn, you have no geography to map.

Theater By The Sea (Summer: 1992)

2010-05-07T09:16:00.001-07:00

So after nine months of drinking, smoking, baguettes and butter, I stumble onto a plane in Paris which is almost completely empty and fall asleep on a middle aisle. I am going back to America.

I have no plan. I have no money. I have not thought past the next cup of coffee. I've been having so much fun drowning my sorrows that I'm not really sure what my sorrows are anymore. I've made such great friends in France that I am already crushed with grief at the thought that our bizarre expatriate gang will no longer convene on a daily basis.

I'd had some dim fantasy of going to France and doing a play with the University of Orleans theater company. But as it turned out, the University doesn't even offer theater CLASSES. At URI if you wanted to do theater you could. Here? If you wanted to do theater you had to declare that to be your profession of choice and go to a school specifically designed for that purpose, a private school. Them Socialists don't want to pay for Arts programs any more than us Capitalists do.

My host family found some strange theater company for teenagers that met weekly in Orleans proper. I went to a "rehearsal" which consisted of improv/theater games. After watching a pimply nerd terrorize a girl with a blindfold who was "blind" I realized how lucky I'd been with the training I'd received. It was the first moment that I realized I might already be a pro.

The long and short of it? The nine months I spent in France is the longest I've ever gone in my life since before high school without being involved in some sort of theatrical endeavor. And you know what? I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT ACTING WHILE I WAS THERE.

In any case, when I returned I was truly lost. I'd needed nine credits to graduate, the equivalent of three classes. I normally took five per semester, or thirty credits a year. The classes I took in France added up to thirty credits total. All I needed was nine and I'd be done. I got eight.

Eight out of thirty. I'd not done much studying. In spite of this I think I learned a lot more French than most of the foreign exchange students who spent all of their time with each other speaking English. I was with French people the majority of the time and became very fluent.

This meant that I'd have to take one more English class to graduate. Which meant that my college career would stretch through the fifth year and into the sixth. I'd not even thought of moving to New York, moving to Los Angeles. It was as if my vision of being an actor began and ended in Will Theater.

But then Judith Swift probably saved my life.

She was directing "South Pacific" at Theater-By-The-Sea in Matunuck, RI. Now, Theater-By-The-Sea is a kind of magical place for me. I grew up going to see musicals there with my family and feeling so grown up and special when I ate a hamburger and had a Shirley Temple in the restaurant before the show. Theater-By-The-Sea is one of those perfect summer stock theaters that become a part of the landscape of a town.

Judith cast me as "The Professor", a kind of sidekick to Luther, a GI who is trying to make a buck off the war.

So. Instead of driving a van for Belmont Fruit again, instead of going back to work at the group homes, instead of waiting tables at the Seahorse Grill (the restaurant next to the Theater) I was REHEARSING. With professional actors from NYC.

Now, let's get straight. I wasn't Equity so they didn't have to pay me much. But I didn't care. I'd have done it for free. Hell, I'm still doing it for free almost twenty years later.

I began dating the Phillipino girl who was playing Liat, the island goddess. She was a RISD art student who'd never acted before in her life. Which was fine since all she had to do was walk onstage in a bikini and sarong and look gorgeous. The producer of the play had not found anyone who could play the part until one night he was eating out in Providence with his boyfriend. Marissa was their waitress and he asked her if she wanted to be in a play.

Marissa was a tough smart cookie from Baltimore. She thought this whole theater thing was kind of dumb but she needed the money and it was better than waiting tables. Our relationship during the summer was contained in the cast so it was a kind of perfection. At the end of the run when our de-facto family dispersed, the truth started to become more apparent.

The show itself was a blast. A fine group of actors, a couple of whom I've remained friends with to this day. Dante and Chris. I remember a couple of hilarious moments from that show, one where Dante had some piece of cotton stuck to his face during a scene and Chris and I just couldn't get over it. We were laughing so hard we could barely do the scenes. Also once while sitting on stage during one of Judith's patented freezes, I had to sit in silence while a giant spider crawled up my arm.

The cast party took over the whole compound. The cabaret after the show was always a raucous affair with people singing standards and bawdy comic songs on a small stage with an accompanist. Marissa and I were sort of overcome with an emotional response to the closing of the show and we were both crying like crazy. The seasoned NY actors were sweet about it but you could tell they were sort of like, "Another opening, another show."

For us it was like the cocoon was bursting.

I was offered a role in the touring production of "The Music Man" that the company was organizing. Instead I took over for my friend Mitchell in the children's theater company based in Providence called "Looking Glass Theater".

This decision was ostensibly because I'd get to live in Providence and continue to date Marissa. This was the end of July. Within two weeks of the closing of the play we were fighting like cats and dogs. We continued to fight all the way through til Christmas when we would finally break up when she went to London.

By then I'd have done two more plays, one at URI and one at Perishable Theater. At Perishable I would meet Maria and my life would change forever.

But first, "On The Verge". My last ever college acting gig.

The biggest thing that I take away from all of this? I have been so consistently lucky throughout my acting life. When I think back to being a little kid in the seats of that old barn, when I fast forward to the moment I stepped on that same stage as an actor, right there I know that it was all worth it. I'd already come full circle even before I'd even gotten started.

Oh, and did I mention that Marlon Brando acted there? Yeah. I walked the same stage as the greatest of all time. And I even spent a night in his room with a beautiful girl. By then it was a falling down shack, but still...

The Rivals (Spring: 1991)

2010-05-06T09:46:00.000-07:00

I just had to look up "The Rivals" on Wikipedia to remember what part I played. That should give you an indication as to how deeply this production affected me.

Another guest director had arrived on the scene. His name was Harland Meltzer and he ran The Colonial Theater in Westerly, RI. I think the theater is still going. I have a vivid memory of seeing The Glass Menagerie there while in high school. I remember loving live theater but wondering why the Gentleman Caller was wearing tube socks with dress shoes.

Harland had a brace on his leg that seemed like a bear trap in need of a good oiling. He stomped around Will Theater squeaking and wheezing and barking orders left and right. The play requires a huge cast and goes on and on and on. I'm not sure why this play has lasted as long as it has, why the generous folds of time haven't been good enough to disappear it forever, but it is still around and we were the latest fools to take a crack at it.

Like I said, I had to look up a synopsis to find out that I played Bob Acres. All I can remember is that I played a coward and no amount of groveling or sniveling was sufficient for Mr. Meltzer. The man I was supposed to have a duel with was a giant slow-moving slow-talking ACTOR who saw each word he uttered as a way to exercise the muscles in his face. Performing this play was EXCRUCIATING.

The set was as hazy in the moment as my memory of the entire process is now. I remember cavernous space spiked by columns and strange wispy tree branches, the playing space peppered with a bench here and a flat there. Every time you walked on stage you felt as if you might just never find your way off again.

At the time I was furious. This was going to be my last play at URI??? (Little did I know that I would be back for one final show after spending a year in France.)

My personal life was a sort of twisted mirror of the production. The relationship I'd been in since the beginning of the year was knotting new nooses daily. I'd broken up with her for an old friend, changed my mind, she'd gone back to someone else, changed her mind, I'd bounced back and forth like a pinball in an angry machine.

The whole atmosphere of the theater department seemed soured and I was a big part of it. I was actively bitter, acerbic by choice. The jaded core of me expanded exponentially as the semester drew to a close. This is when the infamous Plum On My Heel incident occurred.

I have had some pretty dark times since. But I honestly feel as if that period is the lowest I've ever been. The daily pain was so intense, so relentless that I couldn't even look forward to a nine month trip to Europe.

I've recently made great strides in dealing with my darker side, finally wrestling demons instead of joining with them. "The Rivals" came about at a time when I really needed a ray of light, something sweet to cut the acid. Instead the litmus grew redder with each added moment, the mercury in the barometer dove deeper and deeper, trying to calculate the depth of the storm.

MEEEERRRRLLLLLIINNNN!!!! (Winter: 1990)

2010-05-05T09:55:00.000-07:00

William Butler Yeats famously wrote that "the center cannot hold". In looking back on my time at URI I realize now that the ooze had begun even if I wasn't perceiving it at the moment.

When I arrived at URI the talent level was astronomical. Many of the actors there continued acting professionally. They continued dedicating their lives and talent to the pursuit of creativity.

By the time 1990 rolled around this was not the case. Oh, the actors would have SAID that they would never stop acting but within a few years most of them would have given up the ghost for good. So you had people there for the wrong reasons, or for reasons that were unclear even to them.

My sister had moved on. Jackie had moved on. Brooke had moved on. Julia had moved on. Nancy had moved on. Anthony had moved on. Bill L. had moved on.

Talented people had arrived as well but from my perspective it was as if a Golden Era had just turned. It was the day before the stock market crashed. It was the first day of the season AFTER you won the championship. There was no center. Everything was fringe and slipping further out daily.

"Camelot" was to be the winter musical. I assumed that I would play King Arthur. Cocky bastard that I was I didn't work hard on my singing audition. The part is mostly talk singing to begin with and I just figured I would breeze in there and get the part.

I was outraged for about five minutes when I found out that I'd been cast as King Pellinore, the senile knight errant in pursuit of the Questing Beast. The character was supposed to be OLD, what could Judith have been thinking??? Also they cast an older non-student as Arthur for pete's sake...

I talked of a bitter senior complaining at the casting notices of my first show "Hay Fever" and here I was three and a half years later bitching and moaning myself. But deep in my heart I knew I hadn't given them reason enough to cast me as Arthur. I was mad, sure, but mostly mad at myself for half-assing my audition for a part that I might have gotten if I'd put my whole self into it.

Because of this laziness and ego I never got to SING a song as a character while at URI. I sang in the chorus but never as a character who gets a song of their own. Boo hoo!!!

Judith's rationale behind casting me as a wrinkled old knight was sound...the play takes place in a world where magic is commonplace. Why wouldn't this character age backwards like Merlin does?

Speaking of Merlin, Judith cast Mitchell as the Wizard, and this worked like a charm. Mitchell is a dancer, Mitchell is one of the most physically gifted actors I've ever seen. When you hear "Merlin" you immediately think of Ian McKellan as Gandalf or Peter O'Toole or some such. Making Merlin young and spry and full of motion only furthered the notion that he was closer to the END of his backwards time journey than he was to the beginning.

One of our fondest shared memories occurred in this play...there was a slow-motion battle sequence which was MURDER to choreograph. At one point I was spotlighted stage right swinging a broad sword in an endless crawl and screaming, "MEEERRRRLLLLIIINNNNNN!!!!!!" Try yelling slow and see how it feels. We laugh about this moment to this day, Mitchell somewhere else on stage moving in molasses but also highly urgently hearing me yell to him as slow as can be.

For the first time ever I was to share the stage with an animal. Pellinore is hunting the Questing Beast with his trusty dog. A trained Cocker Spaniel was hired to play this part. I barge into Camelot during a May Day Feast with the dog on a leash. Everyone on stage had at least one dog biscuit hidden in their clothing so that the dog would be surrounded by temptation. He would want to sniff every single person out there.

He strained at the leash, pulling me along. I had let my hair grow and also sported a full beard. To highlight my having been on a quest in the woods they wove flowers in my hair which gave me a vague hippie vibe. I stumble on stage to find lords and ladies draped over one another in almost-coital embraces. I beg for their help in finding the Questing Beast.

Most of the monologue is about my dog. One matinee the dog owner never showed up. So I had to improvise an entire monologue about MISSING my dog, having LOST my dog while on my quest. My entrance came about forty minutes into the play so no one on stage knew the dog was a no-show.

So they are all lounging over one another and out I come holding just a leash and a dog biscuit. Crying. Crying because I'd been in hot pursuit of the Questing Beast and my dog had run off after him and I couldn't find either of them. I remember the whole cast looking at me like I was insane which only added to the hilarity.

At the end of the show came the appearance of the second animal in the cast. The final battle has been fought and a horse rides on stage bearing the flag of Camelot. It was awesome! The horse waited outside the theater until it was time for his cue. Then an actor with horse experience dressed in chain-mail hopped on, grabbed the staff and flag and clip-clopped out and across the battle scarred scene.

Now, was this show up there with "Drood" or "Anne" or "Hay Fever" or "Biloxi Blues"? No, certainly not. But that perception is mostly due to the connection I had built up with the PEOPLE in those shows, not to the shows themselves. I'm sure if some audience member had seen all of them they might have liked "Camelot" best.

In my own life the "center" wasn't holding either. I was deep into a classic college relationship founded on little more than convenience and lust. I was preparing to leave the country for at least a year.

I was staring adulthood in the face, desperately trying to stretch each blink into denial.

Crimes Of The Heart (Fall: 1990)

2010-05-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

So far in these URI Theater recollections, the one constant is the fantastic work of the design department in constructing gorgeous functional sets that worked perfectly in the very large Will Theater.

Also consistently excellent were the productions themselves, vastly different from one another but always challenging, always well executed.

We were all about to collectively lay an egg.

Beth Henley's "Crimes Of The Heart" is an intimate little drama/comedy that takes place entirely in the kitchen of a Southern farmhouse. It is really a wonderful little play, perhaps a tad overrated once you really explore it, but very well written and full of funny idiosyncratic characters.

I'll get to the failure of the Design Department later because it was the straw that broke the camel's back, but the camel (meaning the cast and the thrust of the direction)was already suffering from a pretty bad freakin' back before that last straw landed.

Kimber tended to cast by feel more than anything else and even if it didn't work out you could totally see why he'd done what he'd done. The sisters were to be played by a relatively new trio of actresses, new to the department anyway. One girl had never done a full length play before and she was to play the critical part of the sister who has murdered her abusive husband.

Her vibe was perfect. She had a lushness to her, a beauty that men would naturally project all kinds of desires onto but that she didn't inherently trust. She was a tomboy who had just become a hot young thing. But in this case, the personal journey of the actress kept her from embodying that sense of ease, that knowledge of what men could be manipulated into which some beautiful women possess without thinking about it at all.

Her oldest uptight sister was fantastic but the glamor girl back from a disastrous stint in California was similarly stumped by the complexity of the part. My good friend Alec played the laconic limping sexy cowboy and I played the hapless lawyer hired to represent the girl charged with murder.

Again, I hesitate to pat myself on the back or criticize other actors at all but the fact was that by this point both Alec and I had CARRIED mainstage productions. He didn't go on to pursue a career but he most certainly could have with his talent and flexibility. We were more experienced in general and more comfortable with Kimber in his sometimes difficult process.

Halfway through the rehearsal process I realized we were in trouble. Kimber would routinely cut rehearsal short out of frustration. He saw no point in beating his head against a wall. I respect that to a certain degree but I still feel like a few choice words might have righted the ship.

And then, just when we were struggling mightily to get a handle on the play, the kitchen set was unveiled to us for the first time.

I knew right away we were doomed.

The set itself was gorgeous. The interior of a Southern farmhouse in great detail. The floor of the stage had been transformed into a faded sparkling yellow linoleum, cabinets lined the walls with intricate woodwork, detail upon detail piled up.

But it was GIGANTIC. And wide. The farmhouse from the outside must have been almost a mansion. Not only was this a bit out of scale according to the modest history of the family involved but it meant that we would be playing intimate two person scenes across a kitchen table that from the audience seemed about as big as a piece of dollhouse furniture.

I vividly remember sitting across from the lovely young struggling actress during the show. There were hints of a good performance going on but I was the only one who would ever possibly see them. In order to compensate I had to thrust the entirety of my performance out to the crowd so that they would at least get 50% of the plot.

It was brutal. A similar thing was occurring in the scenes with Alec and the sister he was tentatively romancing. The compensation required of him tipped the balance of the scenes in such a way that it became the story of an injured cowboy trying to woo a woman instead of what it is supposed to be: the story of a heartbroken woman who isn't sure if she can open up one more time to the possibility of love.

Now, if you looked at the diagram of the set, if you looked at the sketches, you'd say to yourself, "That is perfect. Gorgeous. Real. Evocative." It is only when you put an actor on it, it is only when you see it to scale with human behavior directly on it, that you know it is totally wrong.

Most of the crowd that I came in with had moved on by now. A whole new crop of actors were arriving. I made good friends with that crew but something special had already gone out the door. Up to that point I'd been involved in magical experience after magical experience: "Hay Fever", "Drood", "The Molieres", "Biloxi Blues", "The Comedy Of Errors".

Up to that point I'd assumed it would always be like that. I see now how lucky that run was, how lucky we'd been to have such a talented group of actors, how perfectly the shows chosen had made use of their talent. I'd already made plans to spend a fifth year abroad so I knew my time in the department was coming to a close (little did I know that I would do one more show upon my return from Europe...).

The trajectory was like that of a rocket returning to liftoff. The spectacular explosion had not come at the end of the journey but rather the beginning. The matter reassembled slowly but surely, anti-climax being built into the process. I remember railing against this feeling, craving the excellence that had seemed so effortless my first three years on campus.

There would be no more magic shows. "Camelot" was announced as the winter musical...

The Comedy Of Errors (Spring: 1990)

2010-05-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

The decade had turned. I was so ensconced in the URI Theater Department that it might as well have been a cult. I was about to dive deeper into that commitment, discovering a love of Shakespeare that continues to this day.

John Neville-Andrews is a British actor who is also something of a Shakespeare scholar. He headed The Shakespeare Theater in Washington, DC which was affiliated with The Folger Library, the leading American Shakespeare collection. At one point he was married to Helen Mirren. He was a dashing natty dresser, a raconteur and a sort of Vaudevillian, a library of bits and stage play.

He charmed everyone immediately.

I'd never done any Shakespeare. I'd had to read something in high school and I think I'd seen a traveling educational production or two but I really came to this production with a blank slate.

'The Comedy Of Errors' filled that slate up pretty quick.

The double set of twin brothers at the core will show you how low Shakespeare would stoop in order to get laughs. Really, Bill? Two sets of identical twins, servant and master, separated at birth, reunited only after mistaken identity wreaks all sorts of havoc? If you tried to pitch this as a movie idea today you would get laughed out of the room.

But you rehearse those lines and put them up in front of an audience and magic inevitably occurs.

Two wonderful actors played the Dromio servants, Mitchell Fain and James Simon. Also two of the funniest smartest most awesome friends you could ever have. I was paired with Anthony Cinelli, another fantastic actor, as the two Antipholus'. He was much taller than I was and had an aquiline nose. They created a false nose for me which was amazingly lifelike and I wore lifts in my shoes so I would appear to be taller.

Neville-Andrews decided to set the play just before WWI in some Middle Eastern desert exotic desert locale. So our costumes, much like "Hay Fever" two years prior, were impossibly elegant suits and gorgeous cocktail dresses. I matched my fictional long lost twin in a dashing white linen suit and felt like Fred Astaire as I went up and down the wide (seemingly) pink marble staircase of the luxury hotel where all of the mix-ups took place.

There was a working fountain downstage left with a statue in it. Again, the design team outdid themselves as we were enveloped in an architectural dream of a hotel.

For the first time in my tenure at URI, however, I was stuck onstage with a dud of an actress. I don't remember her name and I wouldn't use it if I did because I am very protective of even the worst member of my tribe.

But this was extreme. She really had no business being onstage. But this goes to show you how great Shakespeare is. Sure it would have been great if some wonderful actress had taken that role and run with it. But not even a rank amateur could ruin the perfect structure of this lightweight early work from Billy Boy from Avon.

I can still see Mitchell and James in their matching outfits, more like chauffeurs than anything else. There were pratfalls, slamming doors, fistfights, you name it. I remember the process being rather effortless because the four of us carried much of the play and we all knew our shit very early on.

Neville-Andrews had a light touch and stayed out of our way for the most part. Or at least that's how I remember it. Mitchell and James might see things a little differently. Having been directed only by Kimber and Judith over my first two years I was excited to garner some new input. And while he was very good it only cemented how lucky I was to have such talented directors to work with.

Somehow the communal partying of "How To Succeed" had mellowed a bit. Perhaps the group realized they were out of control and collectively pulled it back a little bit. Perhaps the presence of an outsider at the helm kept everyone on their best behavior.

Or perhaps the cast couldn't quite gel because we had to ignore the central female performance. Chemistry is a tricky thing especially when you throw in the language wild card in a Shakespeare play. We had to expend so much energy to keep the momentum of the play going around her scenes we might have just been a little too worn out to party.

How To Succeed (Winter: 1989)

2010-04-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

The hyper intense theatricality of "Drood" lent the winter musical an air of invincibility. We were like cats who just discovered a cat-nip tree in their kitchen.

While all of the fun of "Drood" was an extension of the play itself, "How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying" wound up being the inverse. The parties got better but the show got worse.

This is not to say that it was not a good show. It most certainly was. The set was like a Brill Building grotesque, the costumes nailed the kind of buttoned up good-looking repression of 1950's big business, and the music was executed within an inch of its life.

But like the underbelly of the 1950's, there were some dark forces at work.

After a particular performance, Judith Swift called an impromptu meeting and chewed about fifty new assholes. It seems that someone had yawned on stage. The party the night before had lasted well after dawn which means that a good portion of the cast was most likely in that hangover stage where actual intoxication is still occurring.

Judith didn't name names and I don't know who yawned on stage but we were all guilty.

My house was a constant location for these debauched group performance art drinking sessions. There were distinct party factions, the drinkers and the smokers. Marijuana was becoming much easier to find and I happily planted flags in both camps. We shot hours of video footage of us dancing to hit songs of the day in complicated choreographed tableaux. We came up with the Insult Singing Game in which we would hurl insults at each other in made up song.

The show had a manic insanity. The sexuality that obsessed the office world of the play became out of control in the cast. Couples were formed and dissolved seemingly overnight. Triangles, parallelograms, hell, cubes of jealousy and intrigue arose and flamed out.

My character was named Jerry Tackaberry and I had one line. Someone said, "B.B.D.O?" to me and I repeated it a few times. Judith thought it would be funny if I sang it like an opera singer would sing "Figaro!" For some reason this moment totally worked even though it probably had no right to. Most of the time Jerry was kissing ass as far as he could up the corporate ladder.

We would take our curtain call and my face would ache from the giant plaster grin of a mask that I grimaced throughout the play.

One of my favorite numbers took place in the men's room as we all shaved in mirrors. We stood in front of a row of empty frame so we faced the audience. This gave the impression of us looking at our own reflections. We sang the song and used big bulky blocks of wood that had been meticulously transformed into old-fashioned electric razors. We made the sound of the razors in harmony.

I remember being vaguely in a panic throughout the whole run of the show. The energy was most definitely out of control and I was partying like I probably never have before or since. We steadfastly refused to let things like sleep or food get in the way of our fun.

The best number of the show was called "Coffee Break" in which the workers of the corporation threaten mutiny if they can't get their caffeine. A giant urn appeared and everyone danced in front of it like a Mayan zombie at a human sacrifice. That sense of being on the edge of some psychic break, that group-think was taking over.

We were one, fused into one giant infant, plugging two wet fingers into a live socket.

Get Down And Give Me Twenty! (Fall: 1989)

2010-04-29T08:28:00.000-07:00

Whenever anyone else in the cast told you to you had to drop and do twenty pushups.

I was finally going to be directed by Kimber Wheelock in a full production. I'd done a staged reading and a ten minute clown piece. Which, when you analyze it, is hilarious: a clown piece rehearsed using The Method.

For the uninitiated, The Method is a technique whereby actors do not fabricate anything, they are not pretending. They use their specific history and personality to re-create true emotional states that (hopefully) match up well with the scene in question.

But clowns? We all had a few good laughs over that one. What sense memory recall do you use to figure out why you throw a bucket of confetti? To honk a horn while grabbing a girl-clown butt?

"Biloxi Blues" was announced as the first production of my junior year. This play was already famous and the movie had come out that summer. I knew I wanted to play Eugene Morris Jerome, the narrator. I felt confident that I could kill that part.

I got the part. Kimber and I worked very well together in his acting classes. He was notoriously prickly and impatient but I never felt the sting of his acerbic disdain. I talked back, I told him he was wrong, I pushed. It annoyed him sometimes but I think he respected me for it.

The play involved many scenes where the punishment given out was to do any number of pushups. One poor character had to squeeze out a whole slew of them. But we all began to do them in solidarity and all got into pretty good shape pretty fast. If you can't afford a gym and want to get in shape, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO...PUSHUPS AND SITUPS.

The play is part of a trilogy that follows this character (ostensibly Neil Simon himself) from Brooklyn in "Brighton Beach Memoirs" to WWII in "Biloxi Blues" and back to NY in "Broadway Bound".

I don't think Neil Simon gets his just due. This trilogy is not just another group of mildly amusing nostalgia plays. These are worthy of the time capsule. In the movie "Hustle and Flow" the main character is talking about a mix-tape put out by his rap hero. He says that everything in the world will turn to dust, everything will crumble. And if the people of the future try to reconstruct Memphis, if they want to know what it was like for HIM, all they have to do is play that mix-tape.

If the imaginary people of the future need to know what life was like in the 1940's in New York, if they need to know what the world was like just before the devastation of WWII, if they need to clue in to what the Jewish people in the free world were going through, all they need do is read these plays.

The cast was set and we started rehearsing. It was like butter. The play is perfect. It creates your performance without you knowing it. I barely remember staging it. This may sound redundant by this point but the simple barracks set that the design team constructed was simply perfect. It somehow was real and suggestive all at the same time.

In one scene the GI's visit a whorehouse. A sliding set was built so that when we set out on this lascivious weekend furlough a giant bed appeared almost out of nowhere. A USO dance was hinted at with a bit of bunting draped across the front of the barracks over some chairs. Elegant and practical, the set did nothing to distract from the narrative, which I think is not as easy as it looks to pull off. If the designers got enamored with showing off their period savvy it would pull focus from the journey that these characters are on.

A former URI student who was now living and working in New York City was cast as the gruff Sergeant. Eric Lutes, a fantastic actor, went on to a fine career in film and TV, most notably as Del on the hit series "Caroline In The City". I'd seen him act with my sister a few years prior in "Picnic" and was intimidated by his good-looks and talent. All of us were and this separation created the perfect tension the play needs.

The age difference wasn't as great as it perhaps is supposed to be, but that had the odd effect of making the mentally ill Sergeant an even more tragic character. He was so young and yet so profoundly disturbed and scarred by his combat history...a man old before his time.

Everyone had recently seen the film starring Broderick and Walken that had been a minor hit. Of course Hollywood fucked up the perfect structure of the play. Because Broderick and Walken were big movie stars, they rejiggered the final scenes to force the two of them into the conflict that had been building between the Sergeant and Epstein. This had the effect of waiting for a grand finale in a fireworks display and getting a dud. Forcing the narrative onto the main character and narrator robbed him of his status as an observer. The whole thrust of the play is that you have to get INVOLVED. No one is free to remain neutral. Which, although it is never overtly discussed, is most certainly a thematic dagger Simon is throwing at the world that stood by and watched millions get murdered.

Thankfully we were doing the play and not the movie.

I still remember the first moment when I addressed the audience. The scene opens on a train headed to basic training. Good natured bickering is slowly turning into something a bit more serious. After a few minutes I turn to the audience and say something snide and hilarious about one of the other characters.

It was like a bomb had gone off. When you break that fourth wall in the hands of a genius like Simon it is as if you are literally tickling hundreds of feet at once. They simply could not get over the fact that I was TALKING to them. Every time I turned my head to look at them it was like a mind meld.

To my way of thinking, this production embodied everything that works about The Method. There were no forced notes, no pushing. (I would be remiss if I didn't mention a valid criticism from Mitchell that I did not have a "Jewish" or "Brooklyn" accent...today I'd have taken it upon myself to cultivate it but Kimber didn't insist so it was never even an option). While that may have been an inadvertent false note by omission, all of the behavior exhibited in the play was natural, relaxed and fully realized.

David Fraioli, he of "As Datchery I Did My Bit" played Epstein, the determined antagonist of the bullheaded Sergeant. If he'd done this performance in New York he'd have been a movie star within six months. This play hinges around an intimate monologue his character has that perfectly illustrates the prejudice and ignorance at the heart of many Army interactions. The 550 seat theater shrunk to the size of the space between two people as he told it to me. I'll never forget it.

We knocked that play out of the park.

I was living Down The Line at the time, which meant in a rented house down near the ocean. We had a giant cast party that involved the entire cast lip syncing to 1940's songs as a USO band. Over two weeks nearly 3,000 people saw the show so I spent the next couple of months on campus experiencing the only true fame I'd ever know.

At least so far mo-fos! I'm doin' pushups again, look out!

Move, Clown! (Spring: 1989)

2010-04-28T09:13:00.000-07:00

I have tried to get the chronology right but I just can't see that far back into the past so if anyone out there has contradictory information, please let me know.

I believe that the final production of my sophomore year was an evening of one-acts by Moliere that has come to be known (to me, anyway) as "The Molieres". Another artist in residence type deal, with new translations of three one-acts by Moliere.

Each one-act was to have a different director and no overlapping cast members. The first of the evening was to be done with masks, very traditional. Then my show. We were full on circus clowns. Finally the last of the evening was set in modern day Cranston, Rhode Island and a whole Jersey Shore/guido aesthetic was layered over the classical language.

The overall effect of the evening was one of a kind of manic schizophrenia. The first show ended in a tableau, corsetted actresses frozen next to cravat wearing powdered wig actors. The set was a series of flats made to look like an aristocratic palace or mansion. We clowns came flying up out of the vom, a runway that led from the stage to the underbelly of the Fine Arts building.

We batted the cast over the head with big nerf hammers. We kicked them in their bustled buts with big floppy feet. We shoved their set back into the recesses of Will Theater until it exploded in a giant crash which was a sound cue brilliantly conceived.

Our show was the shortest of the three. It was so much fun to hide in that ramp waiting for the first one-act to end. That classical rendition really got the audience laughing in spite of the unfamiliar arch style they employed. The masks took on personality and expression that seemed far more fluid than the fixed reality of the appearance. You could feel the audience transforming, being brought back to a different sort of attention span.

This made the arrival of a troupe of modern clowns that much more hilarious. Even before we'd begun our play we could hear the audience screaming with delight. Because, no matter how much you might enjoy a play done in masks, there is a small impish part of you that would love to give the actors a swift kick in the rear. I liken it to how people feel about mimes. Sure, they might suck you in from time to time but you're still a little angry about it when it happens!

So we gave vent to some innocent disgruntled point of view that the audience had already discarded! We reminded them that it was okay to roll your eyes at a bunch of assholes in masks! And then our show took off like a wooden jalopy on a flaming set of train tracks.

I played a lecherous clown doctor who was supposed to be helping a family find a match for their daughter. But mostly I grabbed her boobs and swigged from bottles of Jack Daniels while honking a horn to show how hot she was. This was not high-brow comedy. In fact, it was so low brow that there wasn't even a brow. It was just low.

They ate it up. I remember getting a big laugh because I did a double take that made the big curly wig I wore shake on top of my head. In a ten minute show I completely exhausted myself.

Then the last one act of the evening started, somehow weaving a Vietnam vet having flashbacks while lip syncing to "I'm So Excited". There was hairspray, tiny skirts, fuck-me-pumps, wife-beaters, leather jackets, and lots of long vowel expressions of disgust or lust.

The juxtaposition of the language of Moliere with these modern guidos and guidettes was jarring to a ridiculously funny degree. The crowd was mainly Rhode Islanders so they saw nuance galore in a portrayal of a local population that skewered them good-humoredly.

The best part about this production was the pre-show rituals that we all got involved in. Imagine these three shows jumbled into one dressing room. You had guys tying up ruffled shirts and buttoning breeches. You had clowns pulling on fake noses and smearing white chalk all over their faces. And you had tough guy guidos greasing their hair and practicing their moronic accents.

My good friend David (he of the hat toss from Edwin Drood) was the ringleader of this cast. I think Judith came up with the concept for this play specifically so that David could wield his insane brand of Italian humor like a battle axe.

The clowns and the guidos had a not-so-friendly rivalry going on. One guy would walk in and even though he had PLENTY of room would walk right close to you and say in a dead staccato blare, "MOVE CLOWN." He wouldn't pass until you moved! God, this shit was funny. And we clowns would pick our noses at them, blow Bronx cheers, copy everything they said until they were fuming, y'know, we clowned them to death.

Once it escalated into an arm-punching war between David and myself. We were both already in full costume and make up. He said something like, "You're just a fuckin' clown" and punched my arm. I repeated it in a Mickey Mouse squeak and punched him right back.

He said, "You're just a FUCKIN' clown." And hit me harder. I went higher with the Mickey Mouse squeal and punched him right back.

He said, "FUCKIN' CLOWN" and hit me so hard tears came to my eyes. We stood huffing and staring at one another, truly angry, until the sheer insanity of the moment overtook us and we burst out laughing.

I can only imagine what he saw, a forlorn clown with a tear trickling down his bright white cheek!

The Bride Of Olneyville Square (Winter 1989)

2010-04-27T09:48:00.001-07:00

After the euphoric emotional release of "Drood" came a different beast altogether. Edward Allan Baker is a wonderful Rhode Island playwright who has been chronicling the difficult lives of downtrodden Northeasterners for thirty years. At URI we had a chance to workshop his newest work with him on the scene, "The Bride Of Olneyville Square".

Judith was set to direct. I was still itching to be a part of a full-on Kimber Wheelock production but he'd chosen to do "Old Times" as a staged reading instead. Don't get me wrong, Judith Swift is one of the greats in my opinion, but I had been wanting to be in a Kimber show since I saw Sheila in "Picnic" years earlier.

The plot of the play is as gritty as they get. Tenement houses back up against each other and form a small square where the tenants uneasily coexist. The "Bride" of the title is an older woman who has had a brutal life. A tentative romance buds between her and a quirky neighbor. Their relationship sets off shock-waves in the tiny community.

This play took place in cavernous J-Studio. Once again the design team outdid themselves. Four back porches lurched out of the walls. The play was done in the round, with the playing space of the theater becoming the courtyard created by the houses. Extension cords stretched over the audience from upper porch to run-down bedroom window. Transistor radio blared. The pipe and steel girder grid of the studio ceiling created the sense of a rapidly encroaching industrial aesthetic, crushing the homesteads, slowly eating them alive.

The most exciting thing about this process was that we were going to work directly with the playwright in shaping the script. He had written a few drafts but trusted Judith to explore the play to its fullest potential. Improvs, in-depth discussions, group think...all these would be employed to hone what was already a very moving and difficult story.

But there was one catch for me.

My character didn't speak. Oh, he was onstage probably more than anyone but Baker chose to leave him silent. Which meant that I wouldn't be having much of an impact on the actual DIALOGUE of the play!

I am not complaining though, because I was challenged in a fundamental way in playing the part. I was a CIA prison guard, the CIA being the infamous high-security prison that sits just off of I-95 in Cranston like an angry mirage. In my research I found that psychological tests can discern very little difference between guard and inmate, that a guard is at best the flip side of the same coin and at worst something darker and more twisted.

Til now I'd not done any part that required me to be anything other than some extreme version of myself. But this guy was outside of my realm of experience. His wife hovered around him, spewing forth a constant stream of invective against their neighbors but he did not even speak to her. At a crucial moment in the play he deliberately ignores obvious peril to easily saunter off to work. There was something malignant in his silence, nothing laconic or reserved, but aggressive and hateful. A fist of quiet.

This was before the tiresome audience habit of reacting to onstage cigarette smoke as if it is some sort of racial slur and there was simply no question that my character smoked. Everyone smoked.

The play builds to a wedding celebration that takes place in the dingy courtyard. My wife and I attend with all the enthusiasm of parents at the trial of their murderous child. A pot-luck feast is spread across the weather-beaten picnic tables.

This is where my favorite moment from the play occurred. Judith wanted to make sure that my wife and I still maintained our disdain and remove from the other characters. Her solution to this?

My character would only eat the food my wife brought to the party. Even though it was a green jell-o casserole. But Judith also wanted to continue to carve out the obvious anger and spite I wielded towards my wife. So I never stopped smoking even while I was shoveling green jell-o into my mouth.

Apart from that scene, I spent the rest of my time sitting in my chair glowering directly ahead and pointedly ignoring everything that happened in front of me. Smoking. Drinking coffee out of a thermos in my guard uniform pants and a wife-beater.

The audience sat on either side of my porch and could look up at me. But I felt them studiously avoiding it, shrinking back from the unpleasant presence I projected, the way you walk around a dead bird on the sidewalk.

I don't take credit for that in any deep way, it was all set up by Judith in the staging and presentation. The way the other characters shied away from getting too close to me. The way I slapped at my wife's hand as she fussed at me before sending me off to work.

It taught me a great deal about theater, to feel such a recoil from what is essentially a silent character, a blank canvas that doesn't invite creativity but spreads its blankness, eroding at the color around it.

The Mystery Of Edwin Drood (Winter 1988)

2010-04-23T15:19:00.000-07:00

The year had started slowly in the URI Theater Department. A staged reading of Harold Pinter's "Old Times" opened things on a decidedly somber note.

I had no idea what a staged reading was. I had no idea what the play was about. I did the reading as if I were a sleepwalker. I might as well have been reading a foreign language using phonetics.

Suffice it to say that the teeming sexual underbelly of Pinter's play was TOTALLY lost on me, a repressed nervous insecure TEENAGER who had barely even fantasized about what was clearly at stake in the story between these hardened grown-ups. I literally had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT ONSTAGE.

The famous Pinter pauses were filled with thoughts like, "I wonder what that means," or "What could she possibly be hinting at there?" Hilarious.

I'd had something of a tumultuous summer. I'd spent a few months at the end of my freshman year dating a senior girl named Diane. Diane was awesome. She would tell everyone it was my birthday whenever we were out and about. I was always getting free donuts at Bess Eaton, cakes and candles in restaurants and illegal free beers in pizza joints. But Diane was a senior and saw the writing on the wall.

She had sensed that there was something flirtatious going on between me and Sandi, Mitchell's younger sister. Being clueless I had no idea this was happening. But she was right. She told me I should be free to date anyone I wanted. I was a freshman! Of course, she got deliberately drunk to tell me this and neither of us REALLY wanted to break up. I went out with Sandi a couple of times immediately and had a lot of fun. But I was rather confused.

By fall Sandi and I were not really seeing each other full time. We never officially dated but we never officially broke up either. We would meet occasionally, have coffee, see a movie, make out, laugh.

My main focus, however, was the Theater Department. I liken my attitude to being on a sports team. I was gung-ho. Every day was a blast.

The Fine Arts building had a giant lobby that served as a cafeteria, meeting ground, rehearsal space and communal therapist couch. Everyone rotated in and out of the lobby throughout the day. It was not uncommon to see theater games spontaneously erupt.

My favorite was the instant death game. The rules were as follows: you had to move briskly across the lobby, not a run but a very fast walk. At the height of your speed someone would call out a manner of death which you had to immediately succumb to.

Flaming arrows. Double barreled shotgun. Mack truck. Poison dart. Heartbreak.

You get the picture. Girls in skirts would flail to the ground clutching their breasts which had been strafed with hollow tipped ammunition. Guys in jean jackets would clutch at their throats as the imaginary cyanide asserted itself.

I was determined to take part in the musical this year because I'd been too cool for school my freshman year and missed out on a chance to be a part of "Anne Of Green Gables", still in the Top 5 Best Theatrical Events I've Ever Seen List. Plus my sister was Anne and she was unbelievable.

I'd never heard of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood", either the unfinished Dickens novel or the musical based on it. I was cast as James Throttle, the Stage Manger of the Royal Albert Music Hall.

The conceit of this musical is a fantastic one. Dickens left the novel unfinished. A music hall troupe has decided to put on a production of the novel. Therefore it is a play-within-a-play type of deal. You get the atmosphere of a theater troupe and the great storytelling of Dickens.

The best part? The audience votes on who they believe the killer is.

The interesting thing about my part is that I was the only member of the giant cast who only played ONE role. Everyone else had a Music Hall character (slutty showgirls and grizzled cockney clowns) and a Dickens character that they then adopted.

But since I was the Stage Manager of the troupe, I was NOT IN THE PLAY. I stood off to the side at a podium and assisted in the faux production we were doing. Judith Swift immediately sensed that this part was badly defined. Why was he there? Well, her take was that I was a sort of visual reflection of what the audience should be going through.

If the scene was funny I laughed harder than humanly possible. If it was scary I was petrified. If it was romantic I was over the moon in love. I was a cartoon of emotions. I never set foot backstage. Whole worlds were lived back there, a cast unity that I was always separate from. Judith directed the cast to have vague contempt for me, which is a kind of joke in the theater community. When a stage manager is on the bad side of a cast things get nasty real fast.

My favorite part of each night was when the voting happened. Cast members accosted the audience row by row demanding that they choose a suspect. Once they'd tallied the vote from their section they would rush the blackboard slate down to me. I quickly could tell who was the winner/loser. I chronicled this hilarious process in another post called "As Datchery I Did My Bit".

As usual, the tone of the show pervaded every aspect of the theater department. Girls went around flirting in cockney accents, guys had to have muttonchops or giant beards, it all began to turn into some crazed harmless Jack The Ripper co-ed fantasy.

My main function on stage was to be the right hand man to the leader of the Music Hall, played by an amazing actor named David Wagner. He doubled as a constable or mayor in the Dickens story, some figure of authority. He was also the narrator. Whenever he would switch from Music Hall to Dickens character he would take off the soft hat he was wearing and thrust it in his pocket. I would fire the hard top hat he wore as the Mayor through the air to him. It was often quite a long toss and he and I practiced it relentlessly so it would never fail us.

I can still vividly see him whipping the crowd into a frenzy and then turning to me from across that giant stage. It was SO MUCH FUN TO DO THIS BIT. You wouldn't think that something as simple as a hat flying through the air could be exciting but the level of difficulty was actually quite stiff. The crowd loved it, they ate it up, cheering louder each time we completed the haberdash javelin.

Did David love and respect my character James Throttle more because of this connection? Of course not. His character had great scorn for poor James Throttle and this translated to David trying to get me to crack on stage by standing just offstage behind my podium and throwing pennies at me.

I have probably never had more fun in a play than during "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood". We were chosen to compete in the regional competition of the NETC and gave a monstrous standing ovation worthy performance but narrowly missed being chosen to perform at the Kennedy Center.

It didn't matter, though. We knew what we had done.

Coward's Umbrella Business (Fall: 1987)

2010-04-20T10:24:00.000-07:00

Even though I was only a mile from the house I went to high school in, college life was a monstrous revelation. I was placed in Heathman Hall, a dorm that sat on the very Northern edge of the campus, just across the street from the woods that stretched away from the civilized academic institution into New England wild. To my naive teenage brain, Heathman seemed wilder than anything those woods would ever contain.

My first weekend sharing a suite ended in an infamous party. A blond blockhead drank too many beers at a poker game and wound up defecating all over his own unpacked bags in the back of the communal closet. He was in a new dorm by the first Monday morning, pleading with us to forgive him and give him another chance. We wondered why he wouldn't want to get some easy anonymity someplace else and were glad to be rid of him.

Girls walked up and down the hallways in towels. Accents from New Jersey predominated but there was the occasional Midwest twang and Southern drawl thrown in for good measure. I could walk home in fifteen minutes and my mind was blown so I can only imagine what it was like for those who'd been deposited by plane with a whole semester staring them in the face.

I was signed up for an introductory acting class with Kimber Wheelock, who had directed my sister in "Picnic". He was a lanky tall cranky bald man who had studied with Strasburg and taught the Method. I wound up being directed by him many times during my college career but the first play of the semester was being directed by the Chair of the Theater Department, Judith Swift.

The two of them, for me, served as an awesome teaching tool. Judith didn't give a shit if you meant it, believed it or really felt it. If the AUDIENCE believed it that was all that mattered. The cross-weaving of these two viewpoints would inform my work during those formative years and continue to reverberate today.

Audition notices were posted. The first production of the year would be "Hay Fever" by Noel Coward. I may have done a Noel Coward scene in high school and I was dimly aware of him. English accents were required for the audition. I don't remember how it worked, if you chose what part you wanted to audition for or not, but I wound up auditioning for Richard Greatham, a diplomatist on holiday.

I distinctly remember the moment when the cast was announced. I guess I expected to get in because I wasn't surprised when I saw my name. I do remember that a senior actor, a small bitter tank of a kid that I'd already harbored an intense dislike for from a party I'd attended while still in high school, stood at the cork bulletin board and expressed disbelief that he hadn't gotten in. I knew he'd auditioned for the part I'd gotten and for the first time I tasted the competitive fire that has driven me all the way to this desk job in Santa Monica!

Rehearsals began with a table read in a conference room type classroom tucked in between the administrative offices and the costume shop. The cast was a strange mix of upper- and lower-classmen and women.

"Hay Fever" tells the story of a theatrical family who are vacationing at their country estate. Mother is a grande dame of the theater and her young spoiled children are following her into the arts. Mitchell Fain, who played Simon in this production, says Simon was an aspiring cartoonist and Sorel plays the piano. Father is a novelist.

The conceit of the play is that each member of the family has invited a possible romantic partner down for the weekend. Judith (the mother) has invited Sandy, a strapping young boxer. David (the father) has invited the sultry Myra Arundel. Simon's possible flame is a flapper named Jackie who is a few pints short of a quart, and Sorel invited me, Richard Greatham, upstanding young diplomatist.

Roaming around angrily is Judith's former dresser, now maid, Clara. She is, to say the least, not suited to her new job.

Each is in turn outraged that anyone else would dare invite a guest when they have already invited one. It is never explained WHY they do what they do, but what they do is hilarious. Judith sets out to seduce her daughter's guest away from her. Sorel retaliates by coming onto the boxer. David rejects Myra in favor of the stupid dancer his son invited and Simon gloms onto Myra. Just as these romantic entanglements start to truly consummate, the family coalesces once again and mistreat the guests so thoroughly that they each storm off to return to London.

That is the whole plot of the play. The plot is not the point. The point is the extreme quirk of this family, the deliberate theatricality, the heartfelt false realities that they embrace for fun. They use their guests to amuse themselves without scruple, without restraint, with no fear of reciprocity.

For me, the rehearsal process was mind-blowing. Because the world of the play was so specific, so rooted in a certain era, we spent a full week of 4 hour rehearsals sitting around that conference table dissecting every moment Coward had carved out. We read it out loud. We hashed it out. We read it out loud again. We read sections separately. We disassembled it like an engine and then we meticulously put it back together again.

When we finally got on our feet we were primed. Our accents had been honed with tapes and coaching. I had begun to grow a beard so that I could wind up with a mustache. I had never had a beard before and this new found symbol of adulthood gave me a new sense of potency.

Judith is a choreographic director. This play without intense blocking would be interminably talky, and Judith knew EXACTLY what she wanted in each scene. She had FLOW CHARTS of movement. To give an example, in the second act the entire party is gathered in a common room for a kind of post-dinner party. Because my character was a narrow-minded, linear, practical man absolutely threatened by these bohemian surroundings, Judith had limited my movements to short straight lines that barely strayed from my chair near the piano. Simon however covered almost every inch of the stage in no discernible pattern whatsoever. Judith, a grande dame of the theater, made sweeping arced crosses and Jackie the stupid flapper made short bursts of movement that she immediately reversed or shied away from.

Like I said. SPECIFIC.

As we watched the set take shape on the floor of Will Theater we began to get very excited.

The Design Department at URI matched the genius and invention of the directing side. A two story English country house began to appear. A three leveled drawing room with a grand piano, an L-shaped stairway that ended in a landing with an ornate railing and two doors, a set of glassed French doors that led out onto a patio overhanging with actual plants that would be found in an English garden.

This set was a behemoth. Standing behind it there were two staircases that led up to platforms behind the upstairs entrances. A water system was set up so that rain could spatter the glass of the French doors.

The costumes were equally spectacular. I was in a natty suit with wingtips, the women wore fantastic dinner dresses and appropriate traveling clothes, crazy hats, veils, you-name-it. The patriarch wore florid ascots and the boxer knickers and a bowtie. If you stumbled into this rehearsal you would think you were in the 1920's in England, so perfect was the illusion.

Now, this play is not an easy one to get across. But in a 550 seat theater we DESTROYED audiences on a nightly basis. The world was so perfect, so hermetically sealed, realized so completely, it was as if we sent them back in time, back to the London of Coward's day where the erudite elite would have eaten this up with a spoon.

To this day it is one of the finest productions I have ever been a part of and rivals any of the best I've ever seen.

In a quick side note, I had my first inkling of the technical aspect of acting. My sister Sheila was working the lights on the show. She watched every night. There was a moment when Judith basically corners my character and bares her neck so that I can give it a chaste peck. She then reacts as if it were a Casanova seduction. She says "Oh, Richard" in a lusty growl. I counter, "I'm afraid I couldn't help it" as if I'd been overwhelmed by passion.

The laugh had been dwindling throughout the run. Sheila took me aside and said, "The reason you aren't nailing that laugh is because you turn towards her as you say it. When the show opened you were saying it OUT to the audience."

I made the adjustment and it worked like a charm, in fact the laugh was bigger than ever because the placement of my head was DELIBERATE. Take that, Method Acting, it had NOTHING to do with what was going on inside of me.

I also had my first lesson in the hypocrisy and hubris of critics. The show was entered in the annual NETC Competition. Any show that wished to be up for consideration was attended by a panel of judges. They watched the show in question and then stayed afterward for an appraisal and notes session. To preface this, I have to explain the blocking we used at the end of the show...

It is the morning after the disastrous dinner party. The guests straggle down to breakfast. The family has not woken up yet, the epitome of rudeness. Each guest desperately wants to leave but their etiquette forbids them such a drastic action. But they work themselves into such a frenzy that they ultimately decide to make a break for it.

Just then the family comes downstairs. They are in their pajamas. Coward only notes that as the family breakfasts, the guests sneak out the door.

We then embarked on a slapstick routine in which we threw suitcases down two flights of stairs and hid behind open umbrellas every time the family turned to look in our direction. The effect of course was that the family KNEW we were trying to sneak out and were messing with our collective heads by ALMOST noticing us over and over again. It was a ballet of repressed anger and panic. It brought the house down.

We took off our costumes and makeup and slowly gathered in the now empty theater to receive our critique. The crowd had been raucously involved; it had been our best show.

The judges then proceeded to say that they weren't sure of the relationships between the family and guests, they couldn't discern WHY the characters did what they did, etc. etc.

They neglected to tell us that they'd MISSED the first act entirely in which these things were laid out like clockwork.

But that is not the ultimate hypocrisy we witnessed that day. In attempting to give the director a compliment, they revealed themselves to be total frauds and posers.

They complimented Judith on how she handled "Coward's umbrella business".

When we heard that phrase uttered we all began to giggle on the inside. We knew there was NO mention of "umbrellas" in "Hay Fever". Judith had invented that on her own. But they tried to make themselves seem like experts, as if they had seen 27 productions of "Hay Fever" and our take on "Coward's umbrella business" was the most original.

It was this production that opened my eyes to how deep you could go in the pursuit of the truth of a play. How it is a never-ending process. How you can, if you are willing, unfold infinities in every project you attempt.

A Theatrical History

2010-04-19T11:05:00.000-07:00

So three years into this blog and I've delved into my history in any number of ways...I've written about almost every important concert I ever attended, I've named and reviewed 50 of my favorite albums and 50 of my favorite books, and most recently gone back and identified every strange brush with ill-health that I can remember.

I got to work today and wondered what would be next, where I'd take this space. After I finished the book reviews I told myself I would take a break and do some writing for myself. Immediately upon making that decision I was asked to write something for Brains Of Minerva and was in the running for a very high-profile writing gig that ultimately didn't work out.

During that break I missed the daily challenge of calling something up, doing my best to articulate something specific about it, and letting it stand.

I am currently acting in a show at the Los Angeles Theater Center. It is a World Premiere of a new play by Erik Patterson, a playwright I admire greatly. I am enjoying the heck out of this show and am very proud and pleased to have such a great project to be working on.

As with any play there is a story that goes along with it. But you usually can't name the story until later, until the project is over and you've gotten some distance from it. In ruminating over this play that I am currently doing I began to look back over my life in the theater. I cherish my memories and will never find anything that equals the thrill and power of a play being performed for a live audience.

And, voila. My next blog path arrives.

I will be going back and telling whatever "story" is connected to every play I've ever done. College, Providence, New York, Regional, Los Angeles...I am going to have a blast going back into this territory.

When I got to the University of Rhode Island theater department I was already in awe of it. My sister Sheila had been a part of the department starting when she was in high school and did a production of "Picnic" that is legendary in my family. So by the time I enrolled I knew many of the students, I knew many of the professors, I knew the theater and was very excited to sign up.

Now, my high school drama club was quite adventurous and creative. I've seen plays performed by young people that work on every dramatic level conceivable. But the leap from South Kingstown High School to URI was quite drastic. The professors were determined that our experience should closely mirror professional productions. In fact, in retrospect they were far more disciplined and regimented than many professional productions that I've heard about.

I had no idea what to expect when I was cast in my first play.

Which I will talk about tomorrow...

Hay Fever by Noel Coward, comin' right up!

The Lightbulb

2010-04-19T11:00:00.001-07:00

So if you're a regular reader you know I've been chronicling my health history. I've dealt with (in chronological order according to my age) synovitis, a blocked eardrum, a revealed ankle bone, a gouged hip, a scarred cheek, chondromalacia of the left patella, a torn ankle tendon, a crushed vertebra from a falling fridge, a zombie toenail, a blood blister the size of a plum on my heel, Lyme's Disease, an emergency appendectomy, pleurisy for the first time, pleurisy again seventeen years later, and pneumonia, all of which were interspersed with sporadic bouts of chronic bronchitis, arthritic side-effects from the Lyme's disease, carpal tunnel syndrome, and finally fibromyalgia. Oh, yeah, and crushing depression and anger management issues.

Do I want sympathy? Do I want pity? Hell yeah, I've been trained to. Normally. But I've just about had enough of it so this time I am going to respectfully decline.

I've come to some conclusions about this spectacularly bizarre run of bullshit.

I can't discount the fact that I have a very delicate equilibrium. I am not one of those hearty folks who shrug off infection, repel collision, eat/drink/ingest whatever they want and wake up smelling like a rose. No. I am the kind of person who has one peanut M&M and winds up in the waiting room.

Like a mouse stuck in a maze I've stood on the threshold for what feels like eons, repeatedly pushing the button that looks right. And for eons I've been shocked to the core over and over and over. Finally my teeny weeny mouse brain perked up. It started January 1st, 2008 when I quit smoking cigarettes. Cigars/weed were next for the poor shocked mouse and now the worst thing I take into my body is probably a peanut butter pretzel.

Even the tiniest brain can learn not to shock itself.

If it were simply a question of will power I'd have done it a long time ago. But, no, it is more than that and this is where I begin to tread on what is for me VERY THIN ICE.

Will power cannot even come into play unless there is a FAITH at work. An inherent belief that your system is holy, that your mechanism deserves the greatest odds you can give it.

I already got hit by a car and I'd have been pissed if it had finished me off. If a bus hits me I'll be in as perfect health as can be to show off to the Medical Examiner.

I joke but this dim light has been steadily brightening for me over the past few years, illuminating dark corners I'd not have even admitted were there. And with each day that goes by in which I treat my body like a temple my brain perks up, my soul follows suit.

So what will I be writing about next week now that I've plumbed the depths of my ridiculous health history? I don't know yet, but with the light streaming into the cracks I think I'll be able to see well enough to come up with something.

I'd make a crack about how that might be because of the hole in my retina but wonder of wonders I just had an eye exam and guess what? The hole healed.

All on its own.