That's My Girl

I am doing this blues as a solo piece on the new album.  The lyrics are silly, but accurate.  More details on the High Rollers record soon (I hope).

She looks so fine, all the people stare,

She's always hip, she's never square

That's My Girl.

She can tell time with the sun,

By my first sip, her drink is done,

That's My Girl.

She's never leave me, 

she says she needs me,

That's My Girl.

I never seen another one,

She's as rare as they come (or uranium),

That's My Girl.

She always Rocks with a Fonky Roll,

Staring at her will never grow old,

That's My Girl.

I'm gone: She misses me

I'm back: She kisses me

That's My Girl.

The prettiest face in this whole place,
Will send you right to outer space,

That's My Girl.

She knows my words tend to urge,

And purge ideas most find absurd,

That's My Girl.

I'm nothing without her,

She makes me shower,

That's My Girl.

Twisted Tail

I played at the Twisted Tail for the first time with the High Rollers on Saturday night.  Parking was a bitch but it's South Street on at weekend night, so what do you expect?  The stairs we had to load-in to reminded me of George Street Grocery in Jackson, Mississippi.

Richard, Rev C, Tony & Chuck

Former George Street Grocery: About a dozen afternoons were spent trying to get a Hammond Organ (plus Leslie) up the narrow flight of stairs.  Everyone in the band always helped on the way in, but the way out it was usually me and two underage bar backs.

We tried some of the food at Twisted Tail.  Between Kristen, Tony and myself we had the Shortribs Appetizer, Pulled Pork Soft Tacos, and Crawfish Mac N Cheese, respectively.  Two 90-minute sets later the night was over but the last joke to be had was this: I started loading my car at 1:42am.  After I finished loading, got paid and assembled at in the parking lot for the drive home I look at my phone and it was 3:24am.  It was more like a "Daylight Raping" because nothing was saved!

On stage at the Twisted Tail

There was some stress in the evening.  Just driving from 17th and Market to South and 2nd took over an hour.  Saturday night in a major metropolitan area is a bitch.  On top of that add on the fact that idiot keeps showing up at gigs and claiming to be in the band.  I am all about people using music as a way to deal with life's ups and downs.  I am all for someone learning and improving their skill on their instrument.  I think that music can do more than therapy, drugs and sex combined (well, maybe not sex).  I am NOT supportive of people showing up at my gigs and demanding to sit in.  After I say "No" they actually go to the club owner and ask him.  This is my job, it's how I pay my rent and behavior like that threatens my job security.  It's not cool.  That being said, I hope this doesn't discourage young cats from trying to sit in.  I want the next generation to prove themself and find success entertaining.  But if you are unable to blow a single whole note twice in a row take some time to woodshed and get better.  It will take longer than a few weeks, but have patience and stick with it!  The world needs the next Miles or Nick Payton to figure out what comes next.

For archive's sake:High Rollers Set List 03.09.2013 @ Twisted Tail, Philly PA

SET ONE
THE IN CROWD

TIPITINA

SMOKIN WITH SOME BBQ

EXACTLY LIKE YOU

I DON’T KNOW

RED WAGON

QUARTER RAT

HEY NAA

NEW AREA CODE

BROAD STREET SUBWAY

I FEEL FINE

HERE COMES THE MAN

AINT MISBEHAVIN

DO THE FAT TUESDAY

BYE BYE BLACKBIRD

DOG DAY BLUES

HALLELUJA I LOVE HER SO

WEED SMOKERS DREAM

LOOK WHERE WE HAVE BEEN

SET TWO

FRENCHMAN ST STOMP

IF YOURE A VIPER

EGGPLANT

NOBODY KNOWS YOU

TAKE BACK YOUR WEED

I ATE UP THE APPLE TREE

MY BLUE HEAVEN

CANT TAKE MY BABY NOWHERE

JUNKO PARTNER

BLUE MONDAY

I WANNA BE THE BIG CHIEF

HIT THE ROAD JACK

RIGHT PLACE WRONG TIME

HIDE THE REEFER

HELLO GOOD EVENING

PALM COURT STRUT

THE IN CROWD

close the city

Following Hurricane Katrina there were major sections of the city of New Orleans that were made unavailable to the public.  I know because, from Philadelphia, I made repeated attempts getting friends to try and get our cat out of our Marigny Apartment.  They were never able to access it.  I recall the military being stationed at the end of I-10 exit ramps blocking the flow of traffic. 

After reading this today it make sense why they did what they did, although it pissed me off for months.  If they allowed the Quarter-Rats, the diddyboppers and the rest of us drunks back home we would live without power for God-knows-how-long.  We would be sitting pretty (in the dark) until something even worse happens then we would be, like the people in the article, quick to blame the powers that for our impotent outlets. 

Solution: close the sections that aren't fit for living, especially with the recent cold blast in the Northeast.  CLOSE THE CITY.  Where are the shelters and offers of open homes that we experienced back in 2005/2006?  Did post-Katrina hospitality meet humanity's quota for the next 100 years?  Where is Larry David?  He let a fake family crash on Curb Your Enthusiasm, why not try it for real this time?

This country - this government made so many mistakes after Katrina that we are all never going to forget...  Why ignore one of the few smart decisions?

tascam update

after returning the first DP-008 to where it was purchased two weeks later a new one arrived.  Just like with the first I got about 5 hours of usage out of it before "I/F Error" started showing up again.

it's off to repair center for a physical repair.  This must be a new issue as there were no google results for the error in December but now a few others are complaining of this as well.

Post Christmas Frustration

Now that the holidays, the busiest time of year with the whole music career thing, are passing I already feel the clench of that hand around my neck squeezing away my ability to relax and be comfortable.  Why am I determined to work without job security?  I traded one kind of stress with another kind just as paralyzing and lethal and I still like to think it was the right choice.

And then there is the recorder.  For Christmas I got a "Pocket Studio".  A digital recorder I can jot down ideas, play with current compositions, tape gigs or rehearsals for learning purposes.  After 24 hours of playing with overdubbing my voice 8 times and making little 30 second snippets my terrible impersonation of Bobby McFerrin, I decided to hook it up to the old piano and try my hand at a swinging number I wrote back in August and have been doing live ever since.

I layed down some piano, a bass track, some bad guitar and then organ track complete with wailing solo in the middle.  I put down the vocal track: so far so good.  I've got a little bug and I sound a little hoarse but I am pleasantly surprised with the recording.  Now I just have to mix it down and create my master track.  All this recording lingo is new to me as I have managed to remain completely ignorant to the entire process and what it actually requires.  I feel comfortable.  I punch up the menu and go to create the master track. I must listen for the entire play through and turn the organ up for its solo and back down after.  One and a half minutes into the four minute track the music skips, like a record needle jumped back, only once.  Then an error message "I / F Error : Please Power Down".  Which I do.  I have been running on batteries all day and figure it's a power issue.  I was on one out of four bars on the LCD display.  So I plug in with the wall adaptor (NOT INCLUDED) to discover that my entire project is gone.  Erased somehow.

I record again.  It wasn't as fluid as the first time.  Mistakes ooze from all but one track.  The piano part is sloppy or robotic.  Nothing ever truly find the pocket that we all hung out in first take.  And then...  Mother Puss Bucket...  As I was completing the organ track: The playback skips once and I am met with silence and my "I/F" bullschittake mushrooms.

Maybe this song is just plain doomed to fail.

kidding letter

For the past two days I have been laid up, in bed, with a fever and congestion and loss of appetite and loss of voice.  I ventured out of the house this evening for a gig at the Tavern on the Hill that I could not miss.  I already knew that some people were coming to congratulate me for winning the Philly Hot List Local Celebrity Internet contest.  I put this so bluntly not to toot my own horn but to explain my decision to actually leave the house in this condition.  Any other time I would have probably tried to switch nights with the musician who was playing tomorrow.  Unfortunately as I write this I realize that I wouldn't have been able to switch because I have another engagement tomorrow evening.  So I guess it worked out for the best.

However... ... ....

At 11am I was in bed hacking a few lungs while spitting mucus in an empty shot glass I had found conveniently found next to my bed.  My beautiful wife enters the room, actually: ducks in by leaning holding the door frame, "Your Mother is on the phone.  She is going out to visit your grandparents and wants to know if there is anything she can pick up for you."

I think for a moment, pondering the possibilities my requested request.  Suddenly it hits me: I realize, "Cat litter!" and exclaim it proudly.  After scowling at me for a moment Kristen responds: "What can she bring for you, idiot.  You are sick.  Cat litter? What the hell is wrong with you?"

After some aspirin, anti-histamines and DayQuill I brave the outside world.  Forty five minutes into my gig I begin to feel the Cold Remedy Cocktail mixing with the whiskey I began drinking when I got to the bar.  The sluggish nights ends four hours later when I say goodnight to Kristen and wish her morning well.  The poor girl has to wake up at 6:30am tomorrow and Sunday for her shifts at Macy*s.

carbon paper

Seventeen years ago this would have all been written down and had carbon paper to help someone else remember it.  Seventeen years ago I would not have to have waited for this "notebook" to turn on, for the operating system to warm up, for the keys to function.  Hell, fifteen years ago I could have rotated that chair in our basement to the right and still have been able to use that fancy typewriter with the carbon paper instead of the Macintosh SE or whatever it was my parents had at that point, blocked off in the corner of the unfinished basement.  The computer being the driving reason to finish that basement and make it more than a room for the kids to play NINTENDO in.

But in the time it took to have this computer completely turn on and warm up and greet me with the desktop screen that I know will eventually turn on me, killing my only allies I cannot help but wonder.

I no longer recall what I desired to write about.  What was it?  I am starting to recall but to remember proper I require more time.  I will think on the subject.