Right now Chandler and The Bings has been working on improvements to our live show, even though we haven’t played a live show in almost a year.
That may seem sort of silly, but after the lukewarm receptions to basically all our efforts last year once the pandemic started, was clear to us investing in the show, which is the foundation of why the band even exists, is the best use of the limited time we have.
It has been TOUGH for all of us to have time at the same time. We’ve managed three rehearsals – only one of them “formal” (at a rehearsal studio). And though they have all been productive, it’s been an interesting adjustment because we’re kind of fundamentally changing the WAY we play all our songs to enable us to better integrate “big show” elements into the production. Not backing tracks or anything, but PRODUCTION. Which makes certain members of the band very happy. Me, I could go either way. I’m perfectly happy being the way we’ve been, but also excited to try to take it to the next level. Going with the flow and being a good teammate.
The good thing is, there’s a lot of cool shit possible in the future, once we deal with this pandemic shit. I’m just hoping all our “homes” are still around once capacity returns to bars.
I did decide that I’m going to do a livestream concert soon. Definitely within the next two weeks. I’m going to just pop on the mixer/cameras and have at it. It’ll be fun. Once I’ve determined when, I’ll have events out.
Not much else to report in MusicalSchizo-land. No new music. Maybe I’ll finally record some bathroom stuff. Hmmm….Let’s see how the live show goes. Maybe I’ll go crazy and livestream FROM THE BATHROOM. That’d be insane. Or would it?
Stay safe, wash your hands, stay home, physically distance, call your family, hold criminals accountable, put country over party, and don’t forget: Black Lives Matter.
I have been using fakery to get my sounds for over 20 years.
It’s true. Rather than relying on actual analog circuitry to create the sounds I use on stage, no matter whether I’m playing bass or guitar, generally-speaking and for the vast majority of the past 20 years, I’ve been using a technology called “modeling”.
If you happen to be unfamiliar with the technology, modeling defines a variety of techniques used to digitally emulate analog circuitry. They basically take a real amplifier or effects module and do a TON of measurements on it to see how it behaves and then they convert that information into computer algorithms that create a precise replica of how those analog circuits change the signals that pass through them.
I was first introduced to this technology through Line 6’s very first product, the AxSys 212 guitar amplifier. It frankly blew me away with all the different sounds you could get out of it. There really wasn’t anything on the market like it at the time. There were a few amps that sort of did the same thing, but none that did it as well or in quite the same way. It had this incredible footswitch that connected by just ONE Cat-5 cable that basically turned the amp into a multi-effects rack that was completely foot-controllable – no pedal board needed.
Line 6’s AxSys 212 with Floor Board foot controller
Line 6’s physical modeling “Tube Tone” technology was the first that really kind of breathed like a “real” amp to me. I didn’t have anywhere near enough money to afford it, nor did I want something that looked as weird as it did, but it definitely put the company on my radar.
A year or two later, I had gainful employment and was looking to get a new amplifier because I wanted to have something reliable and loud enough to gig. The leading candidate at the time was a Peavey Special 212, because I really liked the idea of not having to worry about tubes or my amp being particularly delicate. And I really liked the Peavey TransTube analog circuit – it was just mushy enough to make me not miss having tubes. So every time I’d go to my local music emporiums, I would plug into a Special 212 and play a little, and frequently I’d pop over to the Line 6 stuff to see if there was anything new, and that’s when I saw their “Flextone” line of amps. I thought, “Wow – this sounds just as good as that big boy. And you can use that big foot controller, too!” The price was still too steep for me at the time, but I did gather up a promo CD that previewed the sounds available in Flextone, and kept my eyes open while borrowing my brother’s Fender Ultimate Chorus when I needed enough volume to play over a drummer.
Line 6 Flextone XL
Here’s the audio from that promotional Flextone CD, in case you were curious:
I was thinking, “If only they’d create something that would allow me to afford this revolutionary technology…” Then they introduced POD.
The Original “Kidney Bean”.
I HAD to have it.
It was a lot cheaper than their amps, AND it worked with that big Floor Board thing from the AxSys!
In early 1999, I did a payment plan with American Musical Supply and got the Line 6 POD, the Floor Board (which now didn’t have that green stripe on it – it was just black and white), and a nice little bag to hold the POD and power supply. Considering I’d just gotten myself a nice computer and my first “real” audio interface, this POD was the perfect next step to be able to really record my music. I didn’t figure I’d be playing gigs any time soon, as I’d just started playing bass with a cover band and I figured that’d occupy my time.
I realized from the start that I could also get a great sound plugging the POD into my PA system…the POD wasn’t designed just as an effects box to put into a guitar amp, and honestly, it didn’t sound particularly good when run like that, even with the “amp” setting on the outputs. So that became my guitar rig – POD into PA. Little did I know that kind of setup would basically be my guitar and bass rig for the rest of my career as a musician.
In June 2000, Line 6’s next excellent product (for me) hit stores: Bass POD.
I got George’s Music in Jax Beach to hold this for me the FIRST DAY it was available!
I bought one the first day it was out. I called George’s Music (at the time, probably the best music store in Jacksonville, way out at the beach, about an hour’s drive from my house in Orange Park) and they put one behind the counter for me. This changed my whole approach live.
Before, I’d just run into my combo amp and send the XLR direct out to the PA. And unfortunately, it had a buzz and didn’t translate my amp tone particularly well. Now, I’d run the amp model output to the PA we were using, however large or small, and I’d have a big-ass bass tone rumbling through the PA system. I’d run the DI out to my amp on stage for a little more localized thumping. I’d use the Floor Board with it to switch effects or boost my signal, or to run a wah-wah sound and cut my volume between sets or for bass changes. It was great. I loved the sound. I loved the weird looks on sound guys faces when they heard how awesome my bass sounded through their PA. I was fully hooked. Eventually, I’d ditch the amp and just get my bass sound from my on-stage monitors. Lugging the bass amp just wasn’t worth it.
Over the years, I’ve become quite a Line 6 fanboy, participating in various user forums (as Tripper), owning a ridiculous amount of different Line 6 products, and even making friends with people who work there (or worked there) online. Once I even was in a development group where I had to sign an NDA helping Line 6 with ideas for their next products. I was even kind of a part of Line 6’s marketing, since pictures of me were used to create line drawings in the marketing materials for one of the products. I never really wore the rose-colored glasses that most fanboys have – I’ve always acknowledged the superiority of analog circuits – but the gap between the analog originals and modeling technology has grown narrower with every new generation of modeling, from Line 6, Fractal Audio Systems, Kemper, or whoever.
As new POD units came out, I’d upgrade, as they always seemed to find more detail and get closer to a more “real” sound. I’ve owned at least one of every generation of POD. Lots of amps, too. I had one of the original Spider amps for a little while. It kind of sucked, to be honest. I sent it back and used the cash to get a Flextone II Plus that I purchased from an internet buddy who had created a head enclosure for the amp guts that I would later use with a Carvin stereo 4×12″ cabinet for a cool half-stack setup. I got lucky and picked up their flagship Vetta amplifier (with an even BIGGER floor board) for an amazing deal, and I lugged that heavy beast to all my 2003-2006 guitar-playing shows when there was room. When there wasn’t room, I’d just use a PODxt.
I was an early-ish adopter of their Variax guitars – the original black one I got (which at a little over $900 is still the most I’ve ever spent on a guitar) – is still my #1 choice for playing acoustic shows (since it has a great acoustic guitar emulation built in). The Variax system modeled different guitars, and using the specialized VDI connector with a piece of Line 6 gear that had the capability, you could save your guitar settings in the amp or floor unit with your amp settings and switch them immediately – going from a clean acoustic sound to a Les Paul into a crunchy Marshall amp with one stomp of your foot.
TMS in November 2005 with Vetta and Variax connected via VDI
Around 2007 or so I eventually got a POD X3 Live, and it is one of my favorite pieces of gear I’ve ever owned. It has a VDI connector and the dual-amp feature of the Vetta, but in a compact and light floor board format with one pedal (I used for volume and wah) that fit perfectly on basically every stage but gave you full control over your settings.
Longest-serving #1 rig – beat to death and still works great!
The X3 Live was my main rig for bass and guitar for years, and then I got the POD HD500, which had very little capability for bass. So the X3 remained my bass rig and I tried to make the HD500 work for guitar. I also acquired a James Tyler Variax JTV-69 that became my #1 for electric guitar shows. When I played guitar with the band Nudge in 2014 I used the JTV-69 with the HD500, and again for my brief tenure with Flext in 2016.
Me in 2014 with my James Tyler Variax JTV-69 (HD500 on the floor, not pictured) Photo by Cecily Johnson
Eventually they sold add-ons to expand the capabilities of the HD500, but I wasn’t that impressed overall and it fell into disuse once I took the leap of faith and bought the very-expensive-but-utterly-brilliant Helix in 2017 (like my original POD, on a payment plan from AMS).
Best. Gear. Ever.
After getting Helix, I didn’t really want anything else. Then they announced HX Stomp, which is basically a tiny Helix and the perfect little rig for me to use for my bass gigs. I had to have that, so I managed to trick Guitar Center into giving me a massive discount shortly after they appeared in stores, and it’s been my #1 bass rig ever since.
Tiny box, MASSIVE SOUND!
I owe so much of my creativity and fun with music over the past 22 years to Line 6, their wonderful community of users and their creative and useful products. Some musicians like to crap on them, and that’s fine. Not everyone is going to “get it”.
Line 6 started out small, grew massive with the success of the POD amp modeling/effects units and their Spider amps, lost their way for a while in the late 2000s/early 2010s and made some truly uninspired gear and questionable marketing choices, but have returned to form, most recently under new ownership as part of Yamaha Guitar Group. They have an inspired team of designers and developers constantly improving all the Helix/HX series and their other products, the community of users is better than ever, and their customer service (at least for North American customers) is second to none in their industry.
I’ve always been able to make their gear work for me and sound great in the process. One of my favorite things as a Line 6 user is having people come up to me at shows, especially snobby musicians, and compliment me on my sound, only to have them be utterly shocked when they see what I’m running.
Thanks, Line 6. I’ve given you lots of my money over the years, but it’s been worth every penny and more. I’m proud to be a Line 6 fanboy.
Peace be the journey!
TMS
APPENDIX: A list of the Line 6 things I’ve owned over the years (I still own all but the starred ones – I don’t think I forgot anything):
POD (the original – version 1.4 – never updated to 2.0) POD bag (fits POD and power supply) Floor Board Floor Board bag (fits a POD and the Floor Board) POD amp bracket (allows POD to be mounted to mic stand or on top of an amp on its handle) Bass POD Spider 112* (original red Spider) – took back to buy… Flextone II Plus with… Flextone Cab (turned Flextone II Plus into 100w stereo amp) Flextone amp cover PODxt (new generation modeling technology – added all extra amps and effects through “model packs” – lives with my brother now) Vetta Combo* (2×12″ LOUD guitar amp that did two models at a time with…) FBV Longboard* (an even BIGGER floor board with more switching ability) FBV Longboard bag Bass PODxt* (sold in 2019 – it had been used maybe twice in a decade) Variax guitar (later renamed “500”) Variax 300 guitar Variax Bass 5-string Pocket POD POD X3 Live Variax Bass 4-string* (sold because I don’t really play 4-string bass much) Relay G30 Wireless (perfect for over 10 years – input jack just broke in 2020) TonePort GX USB recording interface GearBox VST (computer recording plugin) TonePort DI USB recording interface POD Farm VST (computer recording program/plugin) James Tyler Variax JTV-69 guitar (my #1 gigging guitar other than acoustic) POD HD500* (sold in 2020 because I wasn’t using it anymore) Helix Floor (best bit of modeling gear I’ve ever owned) Helix Backpack (got for free on a special when I bought Helix) Helix Native (computer plugin version of the Helix) TonePort UX8 8-channel USB interface (bought at a pawn shop cheap) POD X3 (the bean-shaped one-got cheap to use at work and as a backup rig) HX Stomp (like a teeny baby version of the Helix – my main bass rig) POD Go (like a more simplified version of the Helix) Powercab 112 Plus (just got Tuesday – a clever amplification solution)
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 35): When Will We Figure This Shit Out?
The past week or two have just drained me. Disgraceful, violent hateful behavior and death caused by people who believe in a complete fantasy and their anger stoked by Trump and his minions. Disgusting. They killed a fucking cop. The “blue lives matter” crowd. Ugh.
Thankfully, Trump and his ilk are out.
Best of luck to President Biden and Vice-President Harris.
And may people start to care about having a factual basis for their beliefs and doing some goddamn research instead of believing unsourced conspiracy nonsense and the propagandists and sensationalists in the media.
And may we also actually look at policies instead of political parties.
And may we learn the actual fucking definition of SOCIALISM instead of using it as a blanket term for everything Democrat or progressive.
I’m tired of the adult babies in this country that prefer a convenient story to just accepting reality with all its flaws. That goes for basically all parts of people’s lives.
And for fuck’s sake, start loving one another – start from kindness and empathy instead of “wait – why does HE get that? I should get that…”, AKA, the new entitled-person “American dream”.
We’ll get back to happy music stuff again next week.
But for now, remember, entitled white people: Black Lives Matter, please stay the fuck home if you can help it, wear a mask, physically distance yourself, and wash your damn hands. Connect with the people you care about over the phone or video chat.
Sometimes people are famous for one particular thing, but in reality, there’s so much more they have to offer the world than just that one particular thing.
Steve Martin was one of the most popular live comedians of the 1970s, and well-known from his many TV appearances. Then he was one of the biggest comedic movie stars of the 1980s. But it turns out he had more to offer, because he was also a successful novelist, and a truly amazing musician. Just full of surprises, that wild and crazy guy.
People like to typecast people, though – think of them for the one thing that they know them from. And as humans, that can be hard to shake, because once we associate someone with something, we kind of get stuck.
I feel like Neil Peart is another one of those people. He’s almost universally known as one of the best rock drummers ever. Top 5, for sure, on almost anyone’s list. Surely for most musicians. Neil influenced countless drummers. He pushed people to excel in ways they would have never considered before hearing him attack a drum kit. He played with the deep knowledge of a true craftsman, composing drum symphonies that showed his ability to float around the kit with the finesse of a dancer and pound them into oblivion with the bludgeoning brutality of a street fighter.
“The Professor” (as he became known) played intricate, fully-composed pieces that formed the foundation of some of the best progressive hard rock ever created. Not as self-absorbed as Yes, not as esoteric and weird as Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, not as inaccessible as Mahavishnu Orchestra or King Crimson, but not as pedestrian as so many other 70s rock bands. His band Rush managed to always do what was true to them, no matter whether it was a basic rocker with some clever musicianship, or 20-minute space operas. And they managed to evolve all the way through their career, honing their songcraft and tackling big picture ideas through their lyrics. Neil’s drumming was a standout feature of Rush – it was the hook that made people get used to Geddy Lee’s interesting vocal approach, and overshadowed Geddy and guitarist Alex Lifeson’s amazing individual performances.
Drumming is where Neil Peart became a superstar. He won “best drummer” over and over as he constantly challenged himself to perfect his style and evolve as the muse carried him to different places. Starting with a Bill Bruford-meets-Keith Moon attack on Rush’s early records, capturing the precision and complexity of Bruford’s approach, mating it with the manic intensity of Moon. As his playing evolved, he expanded on the progressive aspects, exploring crazy time signatures and polyrhythms and an ever-growing palette of sounds leading to an ever-growing drum kit, featuring orchestral bells, wind chimes, and all sorts of other percussion. This excess appealed to the aspirational musician kids of the 70s in much the same way the flash and showmanship of KISS launched thousands of hard rock garage bands.
But this wasn’t all of what Neil offered. You see, all of those big themes Rush was exploring in their music, all those fantasy and science-fiction narratives and Randian philosophy, which then evolved into many songs about fame and society and culture, then to socially-conscious takes on life in the 80s and personal songs about how we connect and relate to one another – all of those ideas were Neil’s. The big thoughts, big dreams, tapestries of lovely words and stories that went over Rush’s complex and aggressive but often equally-beautiful music were from his mind. Most people would never expect the drummer to write all the words to all the songs, but Neil did. Because Neil was as much a student of drums as he was of the human condition.
Suspicious of strangers, always, but empathetic and always curious, Neil was a self-taught intellectual. In his words and philosophy, he evolved from his younger dalliances with the selfish materialism of Rand into understanding the value of being connected and looking out for one another in the face of the oppression that is modern life. He evolved into a “bleeding-heart libertarian” as he aged, understanding the value of our shared responsibility, while maintaining his fierce independence and privacy.
His life ended up being one of massive success that crumbled into heartbreaking tragedy when he lost his partner and his daughter within less than a year of one another – his entire family, his two most important people – gone. This spun him out into a few years of just riding his motorcycle all over North America, chronicled in the wonderful (and kind of painful) book, “Ghost Rider”. This was Neil’s second book, but the first one I’d been able to get my hands on, and though I was already 100% in on Neil as a drummer and lyricist, as Rush was my favorite band, it was surprising to me how much I enjoyed him as an author, too. He’s a big fan of description and prose, which I sometimes find distracting, but I never felt like it took you away from the story – reading his books with all their detail and lyrical flourish was just like listening to someone with a particular accent. He wrote many other books, most chronicles of his favorite music or stories from the road, the last few being books containing as many beautiful pictures as words.
But getting to the whole point of this – most musicians really only knew Neil as the masterful drummer that he was. Most never knew how wonderful a lyricist, writer, and storyteller he was.
Rush only got the true respect they deserved by the mainstream press until their later years as a band, but they always maintained their rabid fanbase, most accompanying them through musical and stylistic changes because as a live band, they were absolutely amazing every time.
With the huge bump in Rush’s popularity following the excellent documentary “Beyond The Lighted Stage”, people started to learn about Neil for more than his drumming. They started to learn he was the wordsmith and storyteller behind all of Rush’s classic songs. They learned about his writing, his idiosyncratic personality, his privacy. And they finally learned about his true brilliance, which went far beyond pummeling a GIANT drum kit in varying bars of 5/8, 6/8, and 4/4.
After his horrible tragedy he did end up meeting a wonderful lady in California and having another child late in life, who apparently has “the gift” and is learning to drum. The last five years of Neil’s life, after he retired from playing in 2015, were spent with his little girl and his wife Carrie, a photographer (the art kind, not the media or wedding kind). That is, of course, when he wasn’t fighting the monster that eventually took his life – glioblastoma.
I’ve said many times FUCK CANCER but this one really hurts. We lost Neil a little over a year ago, on January 7, 2020 (though most in the public didn’t find out until a few days later – a testament to everyone close to him that fiercely protected his privacy because of their love for him). In these weird pandemic times it somehow seems like it was simultaneously yesterday and a decade ago.
Neil taught me so many things about music.
I learned to count my first odd time signature because of him (and his song “Subdivisions”). I learned that you can be intellectual and poetic and write and sing flowery prose while you are rocking someone’s face off. I learned that there is always something more to learn, through his mid-90s complete deconstruction of his playing where he tried to swing more and learn to be more improvisational. I learned that being in a band with your best friends is fantastic. That level of trust makes everything musical that much easier. I learned how to listen for all the individual parts of an arrangement. And I learned that you should always follow your muse with all your heart.
I already missed him, since he retired in 2015 with Rush’s final show and had mostly been staying out of view, save for some writing on his blog. Unfortunately I missed out on seeing Rush’s final tour when it came through Austin, largely because I was quite poor at the time. I did see them multiple times over the years, though, and every show was awesome. I’m proud to say that my daughter’s first rock concert was a Rush show. (And she loved it!)
So, this may be long but it’s way too short to truly express how much of an impact Neil Peart made on my life. All I can say is thanks.
Shaking off that rust is tricky when you’re by yourself, especially when you’re trying to be ready to play shows – not that I imagine shows are happening any time soon, but I don’t want the rust to get so thick that it takes too long to shake it all off. The people who come to see the show deserve my best every time.
But, you see, rust never sleeps.
Every day that you don’t play, you get behind, and it grows.
Gotta stretch those fingers out.
Gotta clear that throat, fill those lungs.
Gotta keep that time.
We have some serious rust to knock off with the band. But with COVID cases spiking, it’s not the best time for in-person practice, so to keep everything moving, I made the multi-tracks for Pat and Alon that remove their guitars and vocals. So they can work on their rust individually.
One thing that’s also interesting is the communication rust that we’ve been through with the band. Since we haven’t been playing shows, we haven’t spent a ton of time physically together. At most shows, the majority of the time spent is hanging with each other. Setting up, eating, tearing down…the 2-3 hours we spend on stage are just a small part of the whole picture. The connections, our priorities, all got kind of disjointed and hazy. And we weren’t being particularly effective in sharing what we wanted. Thankfully, we’ve been more active and engaged, with TONS of new ideas for things, so that rust is mostly gone. Now just getting back to the music part and sounding like “us”.
We have had a couple of in-person rehearsals in the past couple of months, and they’ve definitely improved the communication and vocal rust. But damn, the rhythm rust is there. It can only be shed by actual time together playing, unfortunately.
Thankfully I have the best not-rehearsing-but-able-to-play-with-the-band resource: MULTITRACKS!
Yes, at our last full show on Leap Day 2020, I recorded the band. Separate tracks for every microphone and input, so each guitar, voice, and drum had its own mic, and I can make mixes for the other band members that are missing their parts so they can play and sing their parts along with the band. For me, I just mute the channels in the session in REAPER, my Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) where I record and mix all my audio.
Now that technology is where it is, many digital mixers have multi-channel computer interfaces. Chandler and The Bings runs a Behringer XR-18 mixer that features a USB output that I plug into my laptop which enables me to separate out all the parts. It’s actually the mixer that runs our in-ear monitor systems. We have a bunch of splitters that enable us to send a separate set of cables to the PA system at the venues we play so we have complete control over our monitor mixes. But I’m getting off track.
The point is, I’ve been playing my bass every night, and playing guitar, and really trying to get everything back moving and keep that persistent rust at bay. We shall see if I’m successful through this next spike. But I am very excited for the future when we can get together and play shows and have drunk people sing their respiratory droplets in our direction safely.
Until then…STAY THE FUCK HOME. WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS. QUARANTINE IF YOU’RE EXPOSED. And stay safe out there. Apparently the cult of 45 is now resorting to violence to prop up their cult leader and wannabe dictator. What a tiny, pathetic loser he is. I sincerely hope, dear reader, that you are not so stupid as to think for a minute that the little piggy deserves your respect or consideration. Let him go away and let’s focus on moving to having a decent society based on facts, evidence, love, and kindness instead of avarice, ego, tribalism, and anti-intellectualism.
Peace be the NON-journey. Go listen to your favorite album for me. And tell me what it is in the comments if you so desire. Maybe I’ll love it, too.
Well, it’s been a memorable year. Definitely not a good one, but for sure memorable.
In January, we lost one of my favorite musicians/lyricists and writers ever, brilliant Rush drummer Neil Peart, to cancer. I’ll probably write about him next week to mark a year since his passing. Also in January, I moved to a house where I have a dedicated studio space and I played some great shows with Chandler and The Bings in Austin and San Antonio.
In February I traveled to Raleigh to hang with my brothers and see the amazing Canadian band Sloan. We jammed and I got to play real drums. It was super fun. And I played some more great shows with Chandler and The Bings in Austin and San Antonio.
In March, everything shut down. Shows all cancelled. I started to do my day job from the aforementioned home studio (which turned out to be awesome, actually). Work began in earnest for Chandler and The Bings recording studio versions of some of our creatively-rewritten cover songs.
In April, one of my songwriting heroes, Adam Schlesinger (Fountains Of Wayne, “That Thing You Do!”, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, etc.), died of complications of COVID-19. This loss inspired me to write my first song in years. Work continued on the Chandler and The Bings tracks.
In May, I released that Adam Schlesinger tribute – at least as a rough demo. I also decided to commit to being a weekly content creator and started this Museday Mumblings feature on the blog, covering topics ranging from generational music differences to a few political rants. I’m overall very proud that I’ve kept up with it and proud of the content, and it will continue into 2021. I also blogged about launching a video series, bringing back “The Bathroom Schizo” with a feature called the “Friday Flush” but haven’t managed to record any new songs yet. In 2021, I will make this happen. I have better gear for accomplishing the task now. So look out for The Friday Flush, coming soon (seriously this time…)!
In June, it was a lot of writing this blog, and analyzing mixes of the Chandler and The Bings single.
In July, Chandler and The Bings released its first official single. We were very proud of it. Not a whole lot happened with me musically except more blogging.
In November, we had some tension and distance in Chandler and The Bings, because of so much time with nothing really happening, but we talked about it and ended up having a practice, working up three new songs to add to the repertoire, which was very fun!
In December an acquaintance of mine, Patrick Fleming, chose to take his own life. I feel like if we didn’t end up in this 2020, Pat and I would have hung out and become actual friends. It made me very sad. But Chandler and The Bings managed another practice, which was wonderful. We also got vaccines to battle the coronavirus. Which gives a little bit of hope for 2021 and actually playing shows again!
So that’s basically my 2020. I left out the politics and stuck to music.
Black Lives Matter. Until the vaccine is widespread enough, keep wearing that mask and washing your hands, and stay physically distant. Keep those damn droplets to yourself. And thank goodness 2021 promises to be less of a shitshow than 2020. Here’s hoping I don’t regret those words.
I love it so much I try to live it every day by being as nice as one should around the holiday season. I don’t believe holiday kindness should be restricted to the holiday season. I think it should be an all-year thing.
I’m also of the mind that there are essentially two Christmases – one religious, one cultural/commercial. There is some overlap, but the religious one is about Jesus, and the cultural/commercial one is about Santa. Both encourage us to be nice and generous, both have solid traditions that have been around for many years. And honestly, both are kind of bullshit, when you really get down to it, but let’s not think about that right now.
Let’s talk about my history with Christmas, and specifically Christmas music, since this is primarily a music blog.
My earliest memories of Christmas traditions are everyone planning to go to midnight mass, Christmas trees and lights on houses, and people caroling. Christmas specials on TV (like “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, which features some of the best music ever recorded – we’ll get to that later), and everyone trying to be a little nicer and a little more generous.
As my ideas about Christmas progressed, I guess I believed in Santa, but can distinctly remember when I got wise that it was just a fun myth, when I walked in on people wrapping presents in my Granny’s kitchen one year. I was sworn to secrecy and maintained the fiction, feeling cool because I was in on the tradition with the grown-ups for years, until my little brothers all figured it out on their own.
A constant feature of Christmas gatherings and celebrations in my family was Christmas music. All the standards – Rudolph, Frosty, Sleigh Bells, Jingle Bells, Silent Night, White Christmas, etc. We’d all sing the songs together, sometimes in the car like in “A Christmas Story”, and since no one in the family were musicians, it was all acapella. It was nice.
My family was religious, but in a New York Roman Catholic sort of way – you went to mass, coffee and donuts after, every now and then confession, you did stuff for people, that was pretty much the expression of the faith. The music at church (really, no matter what parish we attended through the years – we moved a lot) was thoroughly mediocre. So I don’t really have a “church music” influence when it comes to Christmas music. It’s all mass-market/pop culture stuff. I’d add the classical stuff through music appreciation class in college and through my first marriage, because her mom is an opera singer and classical music was BIG in her family.
So as we explore the Christmas music I love, I’m going to just start with my favorite Christmas music. It is the music from “A Charlie Brown Christmas” – all the wonderful pieces by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. It’s somehow simple and complex at the same time – enhancing its memorable melodic ideas with a whole lot of tasty jazz stuff. And it just feels like Christmas to me.
My mother was the main driving force in Christmas music, and since she’s a proud Irish-American woman, we heard a lot of The Clancy Brothers Christmas. The fact that she’s an early Baby Boomer means that we got a heaping helping of The Beach Boys Christmas album, too.
Of course, when radio stations would play the Christmas classics, or we’d be walking through stores listening to the in-store PA, we’d always happily consume all-time classics like Burl Ives’ version of “A Holly Jolly Christmas” or “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer“, Andy Williams’ “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year“, Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song“, Leroy Anderson’s “Sleigh Ride” instrumental, and basically everything that shows up on the “Christmas Classics” playlists. It all made an imprint, and certain songs are guaranteed to either whip up powerful feelings of nostalgia, or powerful feelings of absence and detachment, not being with my family for the holidays. (Fuck you very much, Coronavirus, and all the idiots who haven’t followed guidelines and allowed you to keep spreading)
All those classics kind of lived right next to the more “rock era” Christmas standards, like Bobby Helms’ “Jingle Bell Rock“, the stuff from Darlene Love and The Ronettes, the aforementioned Beach Boys (“Little Saint Nick”), Brenda Lee, and all that stuff.
And of course, the novelty classics, like The Chipmunk Song. That one was huge to me because it was so funny. We had that album, too. And I remember my parents had a copy of José Feliciano’s self-titled album from 1970 that featured “Feliz Navidad” as its first track. It was shiny. The Spotify link goes to the 2002 reissue, which they renamed after the famous track. I still smile when I hear that song.
As I got older, new Christmas albums became traditions, like the very first “A Very Special Christmas” CD. Run-D.M.C.’s “Christmas In Hollis” is still one of my favorite Christmas songs. Lots of really weird and cool interpretations of Christmas classics on that one. One of my favorite adopted traditions that started as a joke but became a staple is Alabama Christmas. Ten all-original Christmas songs by everyone’s favorite Country crossover artist from the 80s, Alabama. Ranging from sappy to goofy to lovely, it pretty much is a perfect Christmas encapsulation of Alabama as an artist. More artists should find a way to make a Christmas album as perfectly “them” and as perfectly original as this Alabama album. I think you’ll be surprised at how delightfully “Christmas” and how warm it is, if you’re open to the 80s country thing.
As I mentioned before, it wasn’t until I got older that I started to appreciate classical Christmas music, which is kind of ironic considering my interest in the religious aspects of the holiday are inversely proportional to the religious themes of most of the beautiful sacred classical music I’ve grown fond of in the last 20 years or so.
Other Christmas songs that seem to be beloved, like “Happy Xmas (War Is Over” and “Wonderful Christmastime” can die in a fire, for me. Not sure why I hate them so much, considering my admiration for John and Paul otherwise, but I do. Nothing gets me off a Christmas station or skipping on a playlist faster than those two songs. Well, maybe “The Christmas Shoes“, but that abomination is at least fairly universally reviled except by the cheesiest people.
The more recent pop Christmas stuff – 80s stuff like “Last Christmas“, “Do They Know It’s Christmas“, 90s stuff like “All I Want For Christmas Is You” – meh, it’s fine. I don’t really love it, but I don’t hate it, either. I did enjoy that movie “Last Christmas” from last Christmas with Emilia Clarke, though.
Even though I love it, I completely understand why people might not be into Christmas music, because I recognize how much of my affection for it comes from my family and life experiences and not from a pure place of musical appreciation or some sort of deep religious connection to Christmas.
I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Christmas. Mine was lovely. I miss my family, but I will figure out a way to be sure we’re together at least in part next year.
Take care, mask up, stay home, and peace be the journey. Black Lives Matter.
Happy Christmas to all – even if it’s just December 25th to you.
This is my Santa. He’s the best Santa ever. My favorite ornament of all time.
TMS
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 30): DO IT. Life can be shorter than you think.
Let me tell you a story about a really nice guy I met that I was friendly with but never quite got past the acquaintance stage.
I first became aware of him in the “scene” when he fronted a rather successful U2 tribute band here in town. A local morning show I used to listen to on my commute was making fun of the singer, calling him “Not Bono” and teasing him, and he took it with excellent humor, so decided to check the band out at Fado (which would later become a home base for my band before it closed). They were a lot of fun. Met him briefly between sets, he seemed like a really nice guy. Decent singer, good performer, did a great job as the Bono in the band. Not much progressed from there, as I was busy with my kids and life in general, so I didn’t “hang out” much and didn’t see him again after that.
Cut to about nine years later and we’re both at a mutual friend’s summer jam/block party that they put on in their driveway. We finally connect and we hit it off right away. After about an hour of chewing each other’s ear off about music, life, New Jersey, pizza, politics, all kinds of stuff, we decide to get up and play a few 90s rock songs with another fellow Jersey guy*, as a trio.
* In case you didn’t know, I lived in NJ for almost three years, and apparently that was enough for it to count – I’ve always carried a little Jersey with me because they were such formative years for me – ages 12-15.
So we play, and I sing, and his eyes get HUGE. He was impressed, and showed it, and it was such a lovely confidence boost for me. He was always generous with his fellow musicians, finding ways to lift them up or give them positive encouragement. I was no exception. He used to talk me up in front of other musicians, and it was nice.
Me and Patrick, jamming, 2018. Love his Texas-Jersey shirt.
Now, every time we saw each other for the next two or three years or so, if we were at a jam, we’d play some music together. We’d talk about collaborating and I’d pick his brain about the best strategies for booking gigs as a solo act. Our bands swapped headlining on the stages for Fado’s last St. Patrick’s Day block party.
But our collaboration never happened, unfortunately, and now it never will.
My almost-good-friend took his own life this past weekend.
This is the first time someone who I felt a fast kinship with succumbed to their mental illness in this way. I didn’t realize he was a depressive, too. He was so gregarious and friendly and “up”, I almost feel like I should have known he might have been overcompensating, hiding that darkness like I do when things are rough in my head.
There are so many things that have gone through my head, ways I might have helped, I could have been there for him to talk to about the dark thoughts, all that. But since I was just on the periphery of his existence, I have to be fair to myself. I couldn’t do anything. The darkness won.
And the world is more dark without his lovely soul in it anymore. The tributes to him on his Facebook page have been lovely. He was truly beloved, and I’ve learned so much more about him that I can carry to keep his memory alive thanks to his loving friends and family.
I’m sad I didn’t get to know him better or maybe even write some songs with him. Depression is cruel like that.
If you have the opportunity to do something with someone or simply to get to know them better, don’t waste time. Find a way to do it. Now.
And if you have a friend going through anything like this, call 800-273-8255. They can help.
Rest in Peace, Patrick Fleming.
And Peace Be The Journey. TMS
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 29): Music and Relationships
Unlike most musicians I know, I’ve had a very easy ride when it comes to being a guy in a relationship in a band. Part of that is that I’m just attractive enough for women to be nice to me, but not quite attractive enough for them to want to have sex with me. The opportunities or really, tests, have simply not presented themselves.
I know there are exceptions, like the woman who sexually assaulted me at Spinners the one time, but generally, I’ve never really gotten any action because of music. And that was more because she was drunk and thought I was hot, not necessarily because of the fact that I sang well sitting in with my friends.
I think that a large part of the lack of action is that I’m fundamentally not very cool or confident. It’s been a struggle for basically my entire adult life to develop a sense of self-worth. And you know, not being confident is an easy way to keep the ladies off of you.
And the other big reason is that for the majority of my life in bands, I’ve been “taken” – either actually being married or being in a similar serious, committed, monogamous relationship. And I’m a man of commitment.
Some might say I’ve never really enjoyed the “benefits” of being in a band, but the reality is that I’ve never really sought those benefits from music. I’ve detailed this before on my blog, but for me, music is MINE. It’s not a tool to get laid or impress girls or other people. It’s something I do for me, for my fellow musicians, and to make people HAPPY. That’s it. It’s been that from the beginning. I know that makes me kind of weird, but it works.
But back to music and relationships. My success with relationships has a lot to do with being with women who understand the situation and trust me implicitly. Making clear what the expectations are, what role music plays in my life, and how fundamental a need creating or playing is to my mental health. Both my first wife Heather and my current wife Erin got it. They let me have the space I needed to explore music, whether locking myself for hours in the studio writing and producing stuff (when I did that) or going out and having rehearsals or playing shows. They both were very supportive and trusting, and I never took advantage of that support or violated that trust. Plus we communicated clearly about our expectations and needs, and I would work music around the needs of our relationship and our children. It cost me membership in a few bands, but family’s always been more important to me.
I can imagine how it could be different for others, because I have always avoided relationships with people who expect me to be something I’m not or to give up my interests. Musicians I’ve known with unsupportive partners can really bring down the whole band experience, especially when they ruin the spirit of their partner so they’re not able to contribute to the group at an appropriate level because they’re distracted or sad or whatever.
Thanks to my wife Erin for always understanding I need to fill my “music meter”. You’re the best and I couldn’t ask for someone more supportive or kind.
And thanks to Katie, Jasmine, and Danelle for being good to the other guys about the band. We’re a lucky bunch of fellas.
I’m going to livestream soon. Not sure what I’ll play, but I need to play something that others can hear/see.
The usual admonishments apply: Wear your mask. Black Lives Matter. Wash your hands. Keep your distance. Call your family.
Most people who know me probably don’t know this particular fact about me, because I actually don’t talk about it much anymore.
I love Frank Zappa.
I love his crazy music. I love his family, especially Dweezil. I loved his crazy approach to guitar. I loved his obsession with being different.
Alex Winter (yes, THAT Alex Winter – “Bill S. Preston, esq.” himself) made a beautiful documentary that takes you on a trip through Frank’s life, telling it through unprecedented access to the Zappa Vault – Frank recorded as much as he possibly could of his life, his music, everything. There’s a TON of footage you’d never expect to see. It weaved a wonderful story, focusing on Frank’s music, but detailing how he related to his family, his musicians, the media, the music business, everything. It was fascinating to me.
Let me tell my Zappa story.
It all started when I was a little kid living in the Los Angeles suburbs – San Dimas, California, to be precise. Which I now realize is kind of crazy considering who made the movie. What a connection. Anyway…I heard this song “Valley Girl” on the radio. It was EVERYWHERE in 1982, including on a K-Tel compilation (“The Hit List”) that we got late that year (or perhaps sometime in 1983). The song was Frank’s only real hit, actually. It featured his daughter Moon Unit doing her best Valley Girl voice, in a time before people really talked about that as an American dialect. It was melodic, aggressive, and semi-dirty. It would cut between the refrain “Valley Girl” and Moon telling some story about something in the life of the titular teen in the verses, and then go into more detail in the band-sung refrain. I loved everything about it, from the bendy/slidey bass parts to the hyper-melodic choruses. It was weird and wonderful and so very LA. I don’t know that I really understood where it was all coming from, but the song stayed with me.
Cut to my senior year of high school. There was a kid a year behind me who was obsessed with really great guitarists. I can’t remember exactly the circumstances, but we were working on something for the school, and he had a boom box there, and he played two records: The first Extreme record, and Dweezil Zappa’s then-brand-new solo record “Confessions“, which just happened to be produced by the guitarist from Extreme, Nuno Bettencourt. Nuno was fast becoming one of my favorite musicians because of their second record “Extreme II: Pornograffitti”.
In the fall of 1991, I headed to college at the very large San Diego State University. The summer before, I had purchased the Dweezil Zappa record and that first Extreme record. I listened to them over and over. Especially Dweezil’s album. He had a song on there called “Vanity” that also featured his sister, and it got me thinking about Frank again. A few weeks into being at my very large university, I was wandering through the very large student bookstore at SDSU and one of the books they had there was this:
I HAD to have it.
It’s still one of the best books I’ve ever read by a famous person. It goes all over the place in scope, talking about everything from his life to music, business, politics, fatherhood – just tons of different topics, and I read it over and over. It just clicked with me in much the same way the comedy of my hero George Carlin did. He wrote things and said things that both confirmed what I thought, but expanded it in ways I never would have thought to think.
After reading Frank’s book, I was a fan. I hadn’t even delved that deeply into his music yet (at this point it was basically Valley Girl and Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow), and I just tried to find anything I could about him. I didn’t know a lot of people that shared this affection, so I mostly kept it to myself.
Then I moved to Pennsylvania and met a nice kid named Joel Niemann. He liked weird shit like Primus. I liked them, too, and because of our shared affection for Primus (who SUCKS – fans will get that), we became buddies, and I found out he liked Zappa, too. His friend from home, Brian, was way into Zappa, so I think he thought it was cool I liked him, too. Shortly after that I got the “Sheik Yerbouti” album, which featured a track that Joel used to sing that made me laugh called “Broken Hearts Are For Assholes”. Like the Dweezil record, I wore it out. The more I dig in to Frank, the more I find I haven’t even heard yet. He produced so much music in his shortened life that they’ll probably still be releasing “new” stuff for the next 20 years, and he’s been dead for almost 30 now. He died in December of 1993, and it actually broke my heart. I had just become a massive fan, and he was gone. Even worse, this same “love an artist and then they die almost right away” thing had just happened to me four years before that when Stevie Ray Vaughan died. When my daughter got obsessed with Michael Jackson in early 2009, I was extra sad for her when he passed just a few months later. But at least you always have the music.
Frank Zappa was a true iconoclast. A genius composer of truly modern music, rhythmically complex and dense, but performed with ridiculous attention to detail by the genius musicians he hired in his bands, and frequently sort of undercut by nasty lyrics or sophomoric humor. The pearl-clutchers in this country never quite got past that.
Despite his lack of commercial success in America, Frank was a truly American original, even though Europeans and Asians seemed to “get it” a lot better.
I’m not sure if he was too smart, too weird, or too filthy for “normies” to understand, but those three things are why Frank was so important to me and my development as a musician and a person. I joked to my wife Erin that if I were a table, Zappa and Carlin would be two of the legs. The other two would probably be Science and Mr. Rogers.
I highly recommend you check out The Real Frank Zappa Book and Alex Winter’s “Zappa”.
Spotify playlists for further listening:
A nice Frank Zappa playlist that doesn’t scratch the surface but features the songs I mentioned earlier plus some other cool shit.
The Hit List – That K-Tel record I mentioned earlier
