First of all, I think it's fun to stay home and write a blog on Saturday night. That's what playing live music does to you. Home becomes so valuable, so many options present that normally are unavailable, it's like this personal playground. Sweatpants. Netflix. Our couch which is admittedly more comfortable than my bed. It's all there.
BOOYAKASHA!*
*Popularized by Ali G (who's creator went on to Borat fame) Booyakasha is a word derived from the Irish word "buíochas" (pronounced bwee ah kuss) which means "glory to" "or praise be". Oliver Cromwell sent 1,000's of Irish to the plantations in Jamaica, and a lot of Irish words made it into Jamaican patois.
Second, the internet is freakin' awesome. Are you kidding me? I can write to our Welsh buddy, Richard the Lizard, far away in Wales, without waiting days for a letter to return his pragmatic and dignified response. I can find out how far I need to drive to the nearest late-night doughnut dispensary, compare doughnut prices, and maybe even email a buddies' BlackBerry to pick up a whole sack-full on the way over. I can bank, buy, blog, bide my time and generally buck around on websites full of information I don't need to know, but get off on learning about.
This is big news for humankind in general. From a psychological standpoint, I'm somewhat surprised people's heads don't spontaneously explode more often from the shock of information overload, or their withdrawal from such. We are nowhere near equipped to deal with the amount of information coming directly at us from screens, screens and more screens. Screens that are increasingly connected to the internet. Phones, game consoles, the back seat of taxi cabs are all wired. Sometimes I find myself checking my Blackberry as if it were another tab on my internet browser, while I'm working in front of my computer itself! Que Ridiculo, NO?
But beyond that anxious feeling (followed by overwhelming relief) I get when I'm temporarily disconnected from the information super-highway, the most important part of the internet revolution lies in the fact that the world-wide-web brings information onto a level playing field, for everyone with access to an internet connection. Beyond that, the content is largely free, baby! For now...
Take it from a musician... people find a way to make anything you put on the internet free to others. As I've discussed in previous posts, I'm nothing close to opposing the phenomena. I can think of no better way, no better third-party endorsement, than having a fan put our music on the internet for others to share in. I'm pretty sure Lars Ulrich is the only musician rich enough or greedy enough to ever truthfully get all bent about file-sharing.
The big picture is that people in Benin, Belarus, and Boise, Idaho can access the same information and we all know that information is power. Information is power to raise a healthy family, prevent disease, grow food more efficiently and eventually, create a world where hate and ignorance have no place to hide from knowledge and tolerance. If all those 2012 conspirators have one thing that might be close to reality, it's the unifying force of the internet that could lead to some harmonious new world order. I can foresee some technological breakthrough that gave EVERYONE internet access to be a global game-changer, a golden age of communication and cooperation amongst humans never seen before in history.
However, some governments, like China's, would rather their citizens not even read this blog. They might realize the prohibitive nature of their laws and rise up against a regime not praised for its human rights record to begin with, while their government tries to leave citizens in the informational dust.
It's something I didn't think about a lot growing up with the internet constantly at my fingertips. How does this massive, diverse system of information and entertainment perpetuate itself? How did it come to be and how does it continue to be search-able in a coherent and easy way? It's the like the universe has some sort of secret librarian that wants to set this knowledge out for your taking or leaving. It's beautiful. It's incredible. And it may not stay this way forever.
For the first time since its creation, the United Nations is debating the future of what most in the West regard as a rightfully unregulated sphere. The news was shocking to yours truly. There will be no more mysterious librarian-of-the-universe to send me info over the internet wavelength once the burly, ineffective, slow-moving body of the UN gets involved. What's more, there's talk of removing the one aspect of the internet so crucial to it's magic, the fact that it's free.
This was at issue as Google and Verizon held talks this fall about whether "tiers" of internet service are a good idea or not. This would mean some people would be able to pay for a faster "tier" of internet than other consumers. While such a service would inevitably be profitable for companies like Google, the online giant has maintained that anything but an "open" internet would be a bad idea. This sentiment carried over into criticism of meetings held last week at the UN, designed to propose the idea that the world's governments should have a greater role in regulating the internet.
The division of opinion with regard to whether political bodies should regulate things like commerce and communication on the internet is interesting. Developing nations, who are not so focused on free speech as we might be here in the US (China or Iran), want to have a big say in what is available to their average citizen online. Industrialized countries like Brazil and India also want to regulate the internet for the vast commercial benefit inherent in controlling the biggest social invention since the neighborhood block party.
I find it admirable that countries with much to gain in controlling internet service delivery, the US and its allies, called the UN talks "offensive" because they represent an attempt to gain control of something that derives its vitality from its freedom, not its regulation. In the words of a very famous movie featuring puppet mannequins: "America, fuck yeah!".
But this carte blanche opposition to paying for internet service isn't all gummy-worms and sprinkles on the ice cream called technology. There needs to be well regulated ways to collect money for services involving intellectual property (listening to the songs I write or the books you read) because like it or not, artists have to get paid too. There are some pretty pretentious peeved-off penmen over in Hollywood right now who are getting the royal shaft on royalties for shows they've written on, shows that later end up online, for free, for anyone to download, leaving Gary the Writer penniless on the corner of Sunset Ave. and Desperation Blvd...
And don't we want to pay comedic writers, or songwriters, or all the cameramen, gaffers, grips, gapers and goombas in Hollywood and elsewhere, wherever creative art is distributed to the masses? Won't it make sit-coms funnier (please God), songs better, movies deeper (again, Lord help us please...)???
The bottom line is that the regulation of intellectual property (ie; figuring out how creative people get paid for their work online) in a society who virtually expects (and fights on a political level for) free internet content will be an area to watch in the coming years. Hulu and Grooveshark are always there for you while you wait...
Saturday, December 18
Friday, November 26
Fear
You hear a lot of fear flying around, mostly in advertising and often in religious institutions. I almost wrote "fear flying around these days", but this tactic is nothing new. Since we started roasting those first chestnuts on an open fire in the forest, we as humans have used the potentiality of negative results to deter, or motivate, others to do the way we'd like. Try it with a toddler, it works. With most, anyway. In fact, you can tell a lot about the basic nature of that toddler through this interaction. Tell him or her the stove is hot and hurts, and watch if they obey the fear in their mind or not.
This kind of fear is good. I have all my limbs and basic facial features intact because my parents did a good job of instilling in me a healthy fear of hot stoves or busy intersections. Religion and modern media take what they would also label "healthy" fear to new heights.
Take Exodus 20:18 from the Bible for example:
"When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, 'Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die."
That's pretty heavy, man. But check out that nice convenient veil the Bible puts between God and men. The men are too busy shaking in their boots to question who they should be listening too.
Take the media. Not to mention any names here; Glenn Beck you stupid-fucking-idiot soul-succubus, but the media will use terms like "Nazi", "terror", or "blood-shed", over and over until poor Grandma who doesn't realize the 24-hour news cycle will rot your brain thinks the world is only full of danger and gosh darnit', she better get her nightly news to know where the bad guys are! For the record, my grandmas are way cooler than that.
Here's a headline from CNN.com this morning:
"One Business Growing in Haiti -- Coffins"
Are you kidding me? Instead of mentioning that cholera deaths in Haiti are rising, CNN conjures up an image of a bustling coffin and grave industry, bursting at the seams 'cause there just so many of them Haitians dying all the time, they're piling up down there!
Send me a comment about Fox News, Sarah Palin or Rush Limbaugh and you'll find out how a blog explodes. I don't know technically how, yet, but it can't be fun. But notice I loped those liberals at CNN in the group too, nobody is above it, because fear tactics simply work too well. So then it goes without mention that everybody out there has to wade through the B.S. and find their news and information from a scientific and an unbiased (as possible) media outlet.
But there's another kind of fear, conditioned by the constant barrage of the above factors, which plays out in our minds all day. Since we've just shown that we live in a culture of fear, it follows that our personal worlds might be filled with the same kind of thinking.
When I stumble up the stairs in the morning, looking for breakfast, and choose between an apple and a pair of Twinkies I make a couple hundred or thousand minute, sub-conscious choices. One that I let surface to my groggy morning ego (something very hard to control in the morning) is that apple's help prevent lung cancer. My grandfather died of lung cancer, boy am I afraid of and fear cancer, and therefore should eat an apple.
Again this is good fear playing out and ultimately helps me make a healthy choice. The trouble comes when we try and apply this direct logic to our big life choices, choices significantly larger than apples v. Twinkies. When thinking about leaving your job right before a promotion to start a business, does fear play in? You bet. Fear about losing financial security, your mortgage, a failing entrepreneurial business...
The truth is that there is no truthful, objective way to account for what will happen in the future, and in reality, only you can work hard to augment the potential outcome. In other words, if I'm thinking of leaving the Corporation Corp. to start a company that designs beer-bottle-cap-cabinets then fear might highly dissuade me from doing so. But this fear is unfounded. It shouldn't deter you and given that this is our ONE life, our one chance, a secure pension plan won't ease regrets about unfulfilled life dreams.
Fear plays into music in two ways. First, when playing live improvisational music... you must forget it exists! Fear has no place in life or music. The micro-second you begin to second guess yourself because of fear about whether what you're about to play will sound "good" or not, ruins the note before it even leaves your fingers or lips.
Second, when pursuing a career in music, you have to be fearless. It's the only way. Fearing an outcome is tantamount to failure. A close relative of mine, very close, who I love, recently told me I need to "rethink my situation" or something to the effect that playing music full time isn't a real job. It makes my mind want to explode. Makes me mental. Drives me bananas down bat-shit crazy-street backwards!
WHEN DID WE MOVE FROM A WORLD WHERE MUSIC WAS AN INTEGRAL PART OF SOCIETY TO PASSABLE DIGITAL NUMBERS, ITEMS AS USABLE AND DISPOSABLE AS HANDBAGS???
We are in love with artists one minute, unable to stay interested because they only release a limited amount of pre-fab music and then Justin Beiber's voice changes, Britney goes to jail for nose candy and teenagers are apt (or forced for lack of options) to fall in love with their parent's music. Why don't they have their own music, music they can grow old along WITH?
The answer is as complex as explaining away any post-recession industry, but fear played into it, big time. Major labels feared investment in new talent, feared new technologies like Napster and now we have a system where those without fear, the heavy hitters starting technology companies, control the money game. Take Twitter, Pandora, Spotify or Grooveshark. These are the new DJ's of the current century, controlling the game.
So until I plan my technology start-up (we did get in pretty balls-deep with Mountain Side Mardi Gras ) I have to maintain that mindset of an artist which has guided and shielded us since troubadours traveled around France in the 13th century. We do what we do not for the money, but for love, which is the opposite of fear. We don't fear the outcomes of existing in an industry long forsaken for it's profitability. Playing music in the name of love is not some hipster, hippy, or beatnik expression but a protection from the fear in the world. Silence is ignorance, leading to fear and even hate in the worst case. But music, those first few notes you hear at a concert, penetrate that emptiness with light and love and substance. Fear has no room.
Maybe I have with music the same relationship some people feel they have with God, a protectionist sense of love, like that with a father, which can obliterate fear.
I sat next to a very, very wise man on a flight to New York a couple weeks ago. He's a leading cancer researcher at CSU and a Hindu-born Christian. If a preacher tries to preach to me, I will not listen, just like no one wants to hear a car mechanic go on about transmissions in their spare time. But if a scientist wants to take a crack at explaining, logically, to me his way of seeing religion in the world, I'm all ears.
He had one phrase which he kept repeating throughout his vast descriptions of religion (Eastern and Western) and how it relates to everyday life: "Live a simple and sincere life, and you will be like a humble lion."
As someone who is surrounded by lots of public attention as part of what they do for a living, that advice is immeasurably valuable. A lion fears nothing in the jungle.
*A few days after I started this post, WikiLeaks.org caused fear to ripple through the world's powerful and elite, posting their personal comments about adversaries and allies alike as if they were Facebook comments about your best friend's boyfriend. You didn't want him to find out you think he's a sleaze-ball and now damage control is the name of the game. Although Julian Assange is most likely a meglo-maniac, harmful to US interest, the story is just so novel, so massive in scope, the media has embraced his image and mission.
This kind of fear is good. I have all my limbs and basic facial features intact because my parents did a good job of instilling in me a healthy fear of hot stoves or busy intersections. Religion and modern media take what they would also label "healthy" fear to new heights.
Take Exodus 20:18 from the Bible for example:
"When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, 'Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die."
That's pretty heavy, man. But check out that nice convenient veil the Bible puts between God and men. The men are too busy shaking in their boots to question who they should be listening too.
Take the media. Not to mention any names here; Glenn Beck you stupid-fucking-idiot soul-succubus, but the media will use terms like "Nazi", "terror", or "blood-shed", over and over until poor Grandma who doesn't realize the 24-hour news cycle will rot your brain thinks the world is only full of danger and gosh darnit', she better get her nightly news to know where the bad guys are! For the record, my grandmas are way cooler than that.
Here's a headline from CNN.com this morning:
"One Business Growing in Haiti -- Coffins"
Are you kidding me? Instead of mentioning that cholera deaths in Haiti are rising, CNN conjures up an image of a bustling coffin and grave industry, bursting at the seams 'cause there just so many of them Haitians dying all the time, they're piling up down there!
Send me a comment about Fox News, Sarah Palin or Rush Limbaugh and you'll find out how a blog explodes. I don't know technically how, yet, but it can't be fun. But notice I loped those liberals at CNN in the group too, nobody is above it, because fear tactics simply work too well. So then it goes without mention that everybody out there has to wade through the B.S. and find their news and information from a scientific and an unbiased (as possible) media outlet.
But there's another kind of fear, conditioned by the constant barrage of the above factors, which plays out in our minds all day. Since we've just shown that we live in a culture of fear, it follows that our personal worlds might be filled with the same kind of thinking.
When I stumble up the stairs in the morning, looking for breakfast, and choose between an apple and a pair of Twinkies I make a couple hundred or thousand minute, sub-conscious choices. One that I let surface to my groggy morning ego (something very hard to control in the morning) is that apple's help prevent lung cancer. My grandfather died of lung cancer, boy am I afraid of and fear cancer, and therefore should eat an apple.
Again this is good fear playing out and ultimately helps me make a healthy choice. The trouble comes when we try and apply this direct logic to our big life choices, choices significantly larger than apples v. Twinkies. When thinking about leaving your job right before a promotion to start a business, does fear play in? You bet. Fear about losing financial security, your mortgage, a failing entrepreneurial business...
The truth is that there is no truthful, objective way to account for what will happen in the future, and in reality, only you can work hard to augment the potential outcome. In other words, if I'm thinking of leaving the Corporation Corp. to start a company that designs beer-bottle-cap-cabinets then fear might highly dissuade me from doing so. But this fear is unfounded. It shouldn't deter you and given that this is our ONE life, our one chance, a secure pension plan won't ease regrets about unfulfilled life dreams.
Fear plays into music in two ways. First, when playing live improvisational music... you must forget it exists! Fear has no place in life or music. The micro-second you begin to second guess yourself because of fear about whether what you're about to play will sound "good" or not, ruins the note before it even leaves your fingers or lips.
Second, when pursuing a career in music, you have to be fearless. It's the only way. Fearing an outcome is tantamount to failure. A close relative of mine, very close, who I love, recently told me I need to "rethink my situation" or something to the effect that playing music full time isn't a real job. It makes my mind want to explode. Makes me mental. Drives me bananas down bat-shit crazy-street backwards!
WHEN DID WE MOVE FROM A WORLD WHERE MUSIC WAS AN INTEGRAL PART OF SOCIETY TO PASSABLE DIGITAL NUMBERS, ITEMS AS USABLE AND DISPOSABLE AS HANDBAGS???
We are in love with artists one minute, unable to stay interested because they only release a limited amount of pre-fab music and then Justin Beiber's voice changes, Britney goes to jail for nose candy and teenagers are apt (or forced for lack of options) to fall in love with their parent's music. Why don't they have their own music, music they can grow old along WITH?
The answer is as complex as explaining away any post-recession industry, but fear played into it, big time. Major labels feared investment in new talent, feared new technologies like Napster and now we have a system where those without fear, the heavy hitters starting technology companies, control the money game. Take Twitter, Pandora, Spotify or Grooveshark. These are the new DJ's of the current century, controlling the game.
So until I plan my technology start-up (we did get in pretty balls-deep with Mountain Side Mardi Gras ) I have to maintain that mindset of an artist which has guided and shielded us since troubadours traveled around France in the 13th century. We do what we do not for the money, but for love, which is the opposite of fear. We don't fear the outcomes of existing in an industry long forsaken for it's profitability. Playing music in the name of love is not some hipster, hippy, or beatnik expression but a protection from the fear in the world. Silence is ignorance, leading to fear and even hate in the worst case. But music, those first few notes you hear at a concert, penetrate that emptiness with light and love and substance. Fear has no room.
Maybe I have with music the same relationship some people feel they have with God, a protectionist sense of love, like that with a father, which can obliterate fear.
I sat next to a very, very wise man on a flight to New York a couple weeks ago. He's a leading cancer researcher at CSU and a Hindu-born Christian. If a preacher tries to preach to me, I will not listen, just like no one wants to hear a car mechanic go on about transmissions in their spare time. But if a scientist wants to take a crack at explaining, logically, to me his way of seeing religion in the world, I'm all ears.
He had one phrase which he kept repeating throughout his vast descriptions of religion (Eastern and Western) and how it relates to everyday life: "Live a simple and sincere life, and you will be like a humble lion."
As someone who is surrounded by lots of public attention as part of what they do for a living, that advice is immeasurably valuable. A lion fears nothing in the jungle.
*A few days after I started this post, WikiLeaks.org caused fear to ripple through the world's powerful and elite, posting their personal comments about adversaries and allies alike as if they were Facebook comments about your best friend's boyfriend. You didn't want him to find out you think he's a sleaze-ball and now damage control is the name of the game. Although Julian Assange is most likely a meglo-maniac, harmful to US interest, the story is just so novel, so massive in scope, the media has embraced his image and mission.
Tuesday, November 9
Tour Time and Time Warner
This week, the Frogs are headed to Texas. Things have stabilized in the FGF camp since moving into a new house and getting robbed several months back. The Denver police found one item (the largest and most expensive) and Steve and I were more than happy to sit at the cop-shop, haggard and anxious for hours, in order to tow our PA back to it's rightful pad. We have an awesome new roommate moving in, Calvin, who works in finance and can probably provide some perspective to us about what life in the corporate world might be like. The first time he came over we bonded over his "existential breakdown" in NYC, where I had just returned from a wild trip, running back and forth between Brooklyn and Manhattan, recording two full songs and playing two shows. Producer Will (Will E. Beats) and Engineer Klem should be sending me some tracks this week and I will post the new tunes as soon as they are in my eager paws, or Frog toes to be more specific.
On that note, the amount of Frog memorabilia we've obtained over time, a relatively short time, is astounding. From where I sit at my computer in our living room I can see:
- A giant stuffed Frog from one of our youngest fans, a kick-ass little girl name Willa
- Posters from over a dozen shows, We've only begun to put them up. our buddy Kevin in the mountains has stacks and stacks in the archive.
- A wall-sized, sewn blanket of our South Park-style caricatures, replete with our Frogs Gone Fishin' logo. If Trey and Matt came in the door we might have a lawsuit on our hands.*
Any number of amphibian-related books, holiday-cards, painted Mexican leaping Frogs and hygiene accouterments like candles or soap decorate our house, bathrooms, Suburban (Leslie) and RV (Bertha). I am a Frog. It's not a question if I want to present myself that way. People refer to the group as "The Frogs", individuals as "a Frog", and make checks out to us as simply "Frogs".
These are physical indications of the world that your band becomes. It is much more than a physical world, however. Your world as a musician is defined by concentric circles around which are your band and it's family. Family goes way beyond the conventional definition at this point. And just like you love your real family, as it's the only one you've got, you love your fan base and business associates, even the annoying step-brothers or creepy uncles in the bunch. From the moment you wake up to when you go to sleep, you take stock of this family, figure out how to make it work together for a greater experience than any fan or band could achieve by themselves. Most often this happens in the form of live concerts and your job as musician is to make fans feel like you are watching them, as much as they are watching you.
It's so cliche to discuss, but that reciprocality between band and fan is the ONLY thing keeping you as musician from disintegrating into some sort of repetitive, guitar-playing robot. And when fans come to multiple shows in a row, your art becomes more comprehensive because you have the arch of time to work with, days in between shows, as a new factor to manipulate. Active fans will guess rabidly about which songs will be played in what order, which songs will open and close the next show. Some bands have whole archives, dedicated to information about those very statistics.
That is the source from which your world as a band should emanate, the catalogue of songs you maintain to play at the moment that is just right for band energy and audience atmosphere. In fact, that is where you can draw the line between real musical artists, and corporately created pop-stars. Real artists operate on a catalogue built-up over time, pop-stars are ushered into the public domain on a cascade of dollars, not musical aptitude or hard work. It's also pretty cliche for artists like me to bitch about said pop-stars but none of it is relevant anymore, anyway. Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift sell a fraction of the CD's Britney or N'Sync did, the model has gone out the window.
What we are left with are hard working bands (we're now on hour seven of the 15-hours to Texas, in the middle of Kansas, as I finish this post) and independent-minded labels who might get their cash from the big boys, but certainly make their own decisions, sometimes for the worse. One of the more famous examples of this twisted carnival-industry came when alt-rock band Wilco was released by their label, only to be picked up by another owned by the same parent company, Time Warner. Not only had Time Warner financed Wilco's record, they had to essentially buy it back from themselves when the band was let go due to poor management.
Many years ago... OK maybe 6 or so, when I was (hopefully) less wise to the ways of this world, I thought being signed to a major label would be the best, the balls, the brass ring and not knowing what that would mean (large-scale debt to a corporation) I was probably disappointed when my amateurish emails to Sony or Disney Records or who knows where weren't returned promising studio time and world tour. Now, after seeing what happens to bands who are signed to contracts they can't fulfill, oftentimes because a major won't market them correctly, I realize that there's nothing better in the world than being able to call my producer Brad, or lawyer Eric with a problem and have an advocate on the other line, rather than some money hungry scum-bag whose utterly disinterested in music or art.
After returning from TX, Frogs will spend some quality family time for Thanksgiving at home and tour around Colorado during the winter. NYE will take place in Telluride for two nights straight of celebration with the FGF band. Everyone who attends will receive a live CD of the show. Also, check out a pair of new music videos, produced by L.A.-based filmmaker Travis Milloy:
"Never or Now" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYB1thJbVHA
Enjoy!
*Trey Parker and Matt Stone must have some ballsy lawyers. The creators of South Park are also from Colorado... must be something in the water.
Tuesday, October 12
WTF Politics?!
This is a music blog. Actually it's my blog, so it can be about unicorns and red wine and you'll like it! But one thing that grinds my gears, torques my chain and downright gets my goat is politics. The only real reason I care about national politics is the fact that the world is watching, too. Terrorists use our policy ideals to recruit more terrorists. Conversely, people around the world look to America's policy and politicians as examples. Why? I'm increasingly not sure but it's true and if you don't think so, ask yourself why Obama won a Nobel Peace Prize. He won largely on the fact that he stands for an America that has at least moved toward tolerance or the idea of such. George Bush talked about the war on terror as a "crusade". We saw how violent and irrational a perceived non-tolerant Pres could be and the Nobel Prize was the world's relief, expressed to a man who hadn't really done anything on the world stage, yet.
But this pendulum of relief is only temporary and always swings back toward anxiety and fear again. This is especially true within the United States. We live in somewhat of a culture of fear. We choose our diets because we fear high cholesterol, choose safe cars or safe neighborhoods because of fear, all we get from talking heads on TV is information about what is to be feared. We were so afraid in 2001 that George Bush pulled the biggest one on us yet. He managed to convince us, or our representatives at least, that we needed to waste billions of dollars and thousands of lives, invading a country that had nothing, NOTHING, to do with 9/11. All to finish daddy's business.
We caught up to wily W's plan around the time he was to leave office and the ills of the GOP galvanized Obama's massive movement of youth to the polls. Now, I believe, we are experiencing yet another shift, a pendulum swing back to the right. Look at the highly fragmented Tea Party movement. In the 90's they wouldn't have stood a chance. Newt and his Contract with America solidified the GOP's personality such that plat-formless, libertarian-minded groups could do little to penetrate the Grand Old Party. But the lines are creeping to the right. People are scared and reacting to the huge, but necessary, financial bailouts.
Now it's like a free for all. Democrats are anxious to support their president, while fearful of opponents who spew off ridiculous claims regarding taxes and the deficit. Listening to economists you realize this whole deficit situation is pretty simple. We have three major sources of spending: Medicare, Social Security and the Military and one major source of revenue, taxes.
SO...GUESS WHAT'S GOOD IN THE HOOD PEOPLE? If we clean up unnecessary spending for programs that don't make people healthier in Medicare and stop considering the notion that rich people shouldn't pay taxes, we could maybe get ourselves out of this hole. Oh yeah, that multi-billion dollar, needless war that Bush and Dick started didn't help either. Let's neutralize Osama bin Laden and the Al-Queda sects in both Afgani/Pakistan AND Yemen. Yemen is where that lowly sack came from who tried to blow up the Christmas party plane last year over Detroit.
Then we can return to making policy decisions that don't help terrorists recruit more terrorists. Right now, all they have to do is turn on the news.
But this pendulum of relief is only temporary and always swings back toward anxiety and fear again. This is especially true within the United States. We live in somewhat of a culture of fear. We choose our diets because we fear high cholesterol, choose safe cars or safe neighborhoods because of fear, all we get from talking heads on TV is information about what is to be feared. We were so afraid in 2001 that George Bush pulled the biggest one on us yet. He managed to convince us, or our representatives at least, that we needed to waste billions of dollars and thousands of lives, invading a country that had nothing, NOTHING, to do with 9/11. All to finish daddy's business.
We caught up to wily W's plan around the time he was to leave office and the ills of the GOP galvanized Obama's massive movement of youth to the polls. Now, I believe, we are experiencing yet another shift, a pendulum swing back to the right. Look at the highly fragmented Tea Party movement. In the 90's they wouldn't have stood a chance. Newt and his Contract with America solidified the GOP's personality such that plat-formless, libertarian-minded groups could do little to penetrate the Grand Old Party. But the lines are creeping to the right. People are scared and reacting to the huge, but necessary, financial bailouts.
Now it's like a free for all. Democrats are anxious to support their president, while fearful of opponents who spew off ridiculous claims regarding taxes and the deficit. Listening to economists you realize this whole deficit situation is pretty simple. We have three major sources of spending: Medicare, Social Security and the Military and one major source of revenue, taxes.
SO...GUESS WHAT'S GOOD IN THE HOOD PEOPLE? If we clean up unnecessary spending for programs that don't make people healthier in Medicare and stop considering the notion that rich people shouldn't pay taxes, we could maybe get ourselves out of this hole. Oh yeah, that multi-billion dollar, needless war that Bush and Dick started didn't help either. Let's neutralize Osama bin Laden and the Al-Queda sects in both Afgani/Pakistan AND Yemen. Yemen is where that lowly sack came from who tried to blow up the Christmas party plane last year over Detroit.
Then we can return to making policy decisions that don't help terrorists recruit more terrorists. Right now, all they have to do is turn on the news.
Wednesday, October 6
NYC - Fall Update
I'm cruising out to NYC on the 18th of this month record some new music with producer Will Boyle in Brooklyn and a good friend from college, Jason, who works way too hard and plays too well to be out of the industry itself. I also had lunch with DJ Logic and his girlfriend Diane, a friend from Vail, so maybe we can convince to come over from his joint in Brooklyn to do a track.. wink, wink, nudge, nudge...
Side projects are really important. While I'm in Brooklyn, holed up in a warehouse studio, Mark and Steve (drums/bass in Frogs) will be touring the West Coast with their side project Oak Creek, making it as far as LA. Beyond being a sort of blow-off valve for creative energy, side projects are expanding our horizons coast-to-coast, something that will inevitably benefit Frogs Gone Fishin' down the road.
The Indian summer in Colorado this year kept the leaves on the Aspen trees yellow for a longer period than normal. Driving around the state playing shows from Ft. Collins to Telluride has been memorable all summer long, and we've had some out-of-control shows involving lake houses, crazy club owners, hippies and their dogs and lots of dancing people.
Along with the heavy energy that autumn always brings, bands start planning some important shows in their yearly cycle. This time around we'll bring a Wizard of Oz theme to our three Halloween shows in Boulder, Denver, and the Vail Valley. I suppose I won't say exactly who I'm going to be, but I need a blue dress, soon...
It's been almost six month since Actual Natural was released on our dedicated independent label, Mountain Size Records. We have a great relationship with our larger family in MSR and we face lots of challenges together. Today's music market in a word, sucks. CD's used to sell hundreds of thousands of physical copies. Because of music piracy and also some pretty greedy lending practices on the behalf of labels, the industry fell apart in the 2000's. Combined with a larger economic collapse, not too many people are shelling out $10 for a whole album anymore. Labels are forced to rely on creative marketing methods and persistence, where they used to be rely on throwing lots of cash at the problem. I'm still of the opinion that a little cash can go a long way, not in terms of ad space, but creative ideas that engage the consumer. I've tried to get our label to see this and I hope they understand but given their busy lives and day jobs, I have a strong feeling the entrepreneurial burden will consistently fall with the band. In fact I don't think that will ever change and I don't think it's a bad thing.
In that respect, we gotta keep it movin'. We gotta raise the roof, kick the tires and light the fires. We have to be social net-workers, performers, salesmen and somehow maintain some sanity and a friend or two. And forget dating. Or a part-time job. If it doesn't have to do with music, chances are your boss will see the disconnect in a hot, quick minute and quietly ask you to resign. This means you better be booking your side project, duo and solo gigs months in advance and then spend all day on the computer and phone promoting them. A big budget would help, but virtually no one has that these days, save for the one or two major promotion players (Live Nation and AEG). It's time to buckle down and focus.
Dorothy and touring musicians both know there's no place like home. Back in August I enjoyed a sublet, courtesy of the gracious Tim Dixon and his two distinguished brothers. I was in my bed at home a total of three nights out of 31 days that month. Thanks guys, I hope I didn't overstay my welcome.
Now that Frog's have moved into our house north of Denver, life is settling down a bit. It's good to finally get to know the town I grew up in. My experience in live clubs and bars didn't really begin until I grew up musically in that wonderful, energetic town of New Orleans and so seeing Denver for what it is in terms of the live music scene is eye-opening. I'm going to start blogging about the scene here in Denver, my travels to NYC, and a topic I can't help but write about, politics. Things have gotten so weird in that last realm, I'll reserve future posts for the topic.
The dudes up at Mountain Size Records are running a promotion on Actual Natural right now. Check out the store and type in FGF1OFF to get a discount on the disc. Go getcha some!
Wednesday, August 11
Wyclef, Politik Artist
I recently heard that Wyclef Jean is running for President of Haiti. While he won't have the powers of the PM, the move is interesting for a musician. You can follow him on Twitter here:
http://twitter.com/wyclef/
And if you haven't caught on to the whole Twitter thing, realize that this web page is an instant announcement to 1.5 million people whole follow Wyclef, a large percentage of which are presumably fans who know about the man for his rhymes more than his rhetoric. They might not be in Haiti, but it's hard not to imagine Haitians of all ages voting for the native-born, international superstar.
What Haiti needs now is a symbolic fundraiser as President, while their PM picks up the ministerial pieces after the January 12 earthquake rocked the developing, fragile nation.
That makes Wyclef seem perfect for the job, although his detractor on NPR the other day was quick to point out that he's had trouble here in the US with the IRS and his own non-profit, Yele Haiti. The following was taken from uprisingradio.org:
While some question whether Jean is qualified for Haiti’s highest office, others are critical of his politics. His familial ties to the coup government and his implicit support for it have caused concern. Wyclef Jean, who has remained a Haitian citizen, described his decision to run for Haiti’s highest office saying, “I always say that Wyclef Jean is not running for the Presidency of Haiti, I’m being drafted by the people of Haiti.”
While Wyclef's main problem is his severe inability to speak in the first person tense, I support what he's trying to do. Extreme times do call for extreme measures and while electing actors has proved fateful in American politics recently, I do think a distinction can be made there.
Actors are masters of empathy, but that's where the politicians get ya in the first place! Our voting decisions are oftentimes made on emotional criteria (think abortion or immigration), when in reality logic should rule the voting process. The immigration issue is a prime example. Conservatives have argued to repeal the very amendment in our constitution that makes it such that anyone born on US soil is a US citizen. It's easy for them to stir the emotions of a nation who, in reality, keep 90% of illegal immigrants here and for a reason. This reason is economic and we've all heard the "they do they jobs we don't want" spiel.
Artists, by comparison, and I mean real artists (not Pink or Brittany or Justin Beib... what's that kids' name???) are masters of individuality. An artist finds her place in the world by personal observation, not interpersonal empathy.
I'm not saying actors can't have strong opinions, or artists can't selflessly promote their work. What I am saying is that Wyclef was passionate about Haiti and it's politics before the earthquake. That makes me think he is less of an opportunistic snake-in-the-grass and really cares about the country as a whole, not just the part that will vote for him.
But ultimately he's got the best attribute of a politician his party could ask for. He can win.
http://twitter.com/wyclef/
And if you haven't caught on to the whole Twitter thing, realize that this web page is an instant announcement to 1.5 million people whole follow Wyclef, a large percentage of which are presumably fans who know about the man for his rhymes more than his rhetoric. They might not be in Haiti, but it's hard not to imagine Haitians of all ages voting for the native-born, international superstar.
What Haiti needs now is a symbolic fundraiser as President, while their PM picks up the ministerial pieces after the January 12 earthquake rocked the developing, fragile nation.
That makes Wyclef seem perfect for the job, although his detractor on NPR the other day was quick to point out that he's had trouble here in the US with the IRS and his own non-profit, Yele Haiti. The following was taken from uprisingradio.org:
While some question whether Jean is qualified for Haiti’s highest office, others are critical of his politics. His familial ties to the coup government and his implicit support for it have caused concern. Wyclef Jean, who has remained a Haitian citizen, described his decision to run for Haiti’s highest office saying, “I always say that Wyclef Jean is not running for the Presidency of Haiti, I’m being drafted by the people of Haiti.”
While Wyclef's main problem is his severe inability to speak in the first person tense, I support what he's trying to do. Extreme times do call for extreme measures and while electing actors has proved fateful in American politics recently, I do think a distinction can be made there.
Actors are masters of empathy, but that's where the politicians get ya in the first place! Our voting decisions are oftentimes made on emotional criteria (think abortion or immigration), when in reality logic should rule the voting process. The immigration issue is a prime example. Conservatives have argued to repeal the very amendment in our constitution that makes it such that anyone born on US soil is a US citizen. It's easy for them to stir the emotions of a nation who, in reality, keep 90% of illegal immigrants here and for a reason. This reason is economic and we've all heard the "they do they jobs we don't want" spiel.
Artists, by comparison, and I mean real artists (not Pink or Brittany or Justin Beib... what's that kids' name???) are masters of individuality. An artist finds her place in the world by personal observation, not interpersonal empathy.
I'm not saying actors can't have strong opinions, or artists can't selflessly promote their work. What I am saying is that Wyclef was passionate about Haiti and it's politics before the earthquake. That makes me think he is less of an opportunistic snake-in-the-grass and really cares about the country as a whole, not just the part that will vote for him.
But ultimately he's got the best attribute of a politician his party could ask for. He can win.
Saturday, July 10
vacation over... Frog Time Again!
First, a nod to two very well run events of much different scales, events which make me appreciate the way humanity comes together and organizes itself for our own enjoyment... What makes us slightly more fun to hang out with than monkeys!
I had the opportunity to bring my own band, creatively titled "The Trevor Jones Band" for lack of more time to think of a cool band name, to The Realm Festival: Campout for the Cause II located in Rancho del Rio Colorado. As you might be able to discern from the name of the venue, a perfectly paced river flows through a picturesque valley where a stage is trucked in for festivals every summer. Now, I play lots of gigs and have to make up fun for myself to keep from getting burned out. For this particular set, I shaved my head with a razor and painted myself and the rest of the band with tribal markings. Fun times for one in the afternoon and the band killed it, consisting of Mark Levy (Frogs Gone Fishin') on drums, the uber-funky Cristian Basso (Little Hercules) on bass, KT Homes (Boxcar Daisies) on acoustic guitar, the world-class Tony G on keys and DJ Also Starring. I think we achieved my goal of deviating from the norm when post-fest, an acquaintance mentioned we "really freaked him out" in his altered state.
On a much larger scale, the World Cup provided endless distraction and procrastination justification for the last month. When I should be songwriting or update myspace or something, I find myself engrossed, rooting for teams I should never care about like Cote D'Ivoire or Spain, and getting truly upset when the USA lost to Ghana. I think Americans of my age were taught that our hegemony in the world was gonna last and not that the Netherlands are going to be a world superpower any time soon (again), but not getting first is just about as cool as getting last as far as sports fans in the Red, White and Blue section are concerned. Still, the political implications which spread far beyond the tournament, especially in a country like South Africa, make the World Cup arguably more important than the Olympics, given that people need and crave football like a Catholic priest at Boy Scout Camp.
Now that my blog just showed up on the Vatican's Google Alerts, I'm gonna change IP addresses. I don't stay in one spot very long these days. A typical week for a Frog involves rehearsals, solo gigs, duo gigs, teaching lessons and lots of commuting. I play music every night during the week and weekend, AKA never a night off. Not including solo, duo and side project shows, Frogs have played 350 shows in 25 cities around the country. Add those other shows in, and you realize we play music for an audience just about every day. Can anyone say booking agent?
Our responsibilities in Frogs, endlessly nebulous but direly important, were discussed at a record label meeting up at Mountain Size Records last week. Our label, consisting of lawyer, producer and now a full-time intern, have a great manner of making work fun and are not afraid to let us take the lead, or push us when necessary. They are heavily interested, and invested, in making Frogs Gone Fishin' all we can be as a Frog Army. Fish have schools, birds have flocks, we have an army. Simple.
Frogs have been entered into a voting contest for the yearly Yarmony Grass Fest and would love your vote. VOTE HERE If we win, we float down the river on a giant raft, playing music!
Actual Natural continues to sell around the country on iTunes, Amazon, and soon Rhapsody, although we are starting a promotion soon at Mountain Size which will put a t-shirt and other schwag in your hands for free when you buy the album.
Things are busy and the temperature down in Denver reached 101 degrees yesterday as I played the afternoon set at the Farmer's Market. It could be the one moment in which I don't intensely miss New Orleans, although after going out in Denver last night, cherishing a Saturday off, I realized we have to move here next for a number of reasons, musical and social alike.
The rest of the summer will be spent playing all over the state, including the THC fest in Alma (VERY HIGH at 10,000 ft) and a fest of our own, FROG FEST at Finnigan's Wake in Avon. September will see a tour to the West Coast and I'll head out to NYC again in October to record and play some shows.
This nationwide traveling in just a few months time is comforting in a way, like our influence is expanding in the right direction, the global direction.
Tuesday, June 29
East Coast
The East Coast is just a little bit different than Colorado and New Orleans. For one, the concept and logistics of transportation are on people's minds constantly. "Where are you going" and "how do you get there" are questions heard hourly if not more frequent. The geography of the city makes it such, millions of people packed, overflowing onto an island like it's the last place drinking water is available on Earth or something.
There are some serious common misconceptions about NYC which I noticed are blatantly false and should be disproved.
1. New York is hard to get around... Do you have two feet? Can you put two dollars (twice that of a soda machine!) in a little turnstile device that let's you onto a train which goes anywhere and everywhere for a paltry sum? If so, this myth is clearly just that. The web of trains, shuttles, cabs and your own bi-pedal movement makes getting around a breeze, with just a little forethought.
2. New Yorkers are assholes... Couldn't be farther from the truth. From the guy who sold me falafel in his late-night cart, to the jolly 16-year old with her belly hanging out of her undersized pink t-shirt, jamming on her iPod as she skips down Park Ave... everybody is busy, busy, busy, but certainly not an asshole. "Excuse me" would get pretty old if you bumped elbows with 21 million people daily, too.
3. New York is expensive. Two blocks from the apartment where I spent several nights in NY you could get a slice of pizza for 99 cents. I can't even find the hot key for the "cents" sign on my computer, that's how cheap the za was... And OK, maybe this pizza wasn't the health quality standard for the 21st century, but in an economy of scale, that's some cheap food people. Stay out of SoHo shops and trendy restaurants (which you should be doing anyway, you blue-blooded American penny pincher of our newly inherited economy! Let's go get a dog at Coney Island anyway, which we did... more on that later.
Point is, go to New York! It's only the commercial and cultural center of the conceivable universe for crying in the milk...
Visit the rest of the dense area, too. So much to see.
That's what I did by traveling to Boston first with my fuzzy-headed, musical companion, Portwood. After staying up all night post- side project show, sliding down the mountain to DIA, we were off to Boston town last Monday.
You have to understand how hilarious our friends' the Healey's are. Proud parents of two gorgeous children who have an insatiable appetite for play with their "uncles" (us), we party and pontificate with our friends and mentors about everything in life. I lived on their couch for a number of months last fall, and let's put it this way: my tweezed uni-brow hairs on your bathroom counter is the fast track to getting to know me, intimately. We are the best of friends and they are they perfect companions and catalyst for attending an amazing live show.
Phish did not disappoint in Boston. Rejecting their label by popular media, the band plowed through song after song of strong structure and the jams sounded like true, conversational improvisation, not noodle-like time wasting. Trey ripped and Gordo/Fish provided the backbone of a brontosaurus. Somehow we made it back to our Red Roof Inn and even after closing my eyes, I could hear the party continue in the hall, pool, foot of my bed and of course, behind my own eye lids.
Our time in Boston was all too short. Beyond enjoying a much needed day at the beach and a pleasantly shocking, shrinkage-inducing romp in the Atlantic Ocean the next day, it was time to head down to NYC the next day on the bus.
Greyhound is a great option if you don't mind seeing the country like most of us do, on the open road with all the other gas-guzzlers. My apologies and regards to Carrie-Anne, sitting behind me, who in my excited nervousness I had asked to stay the whole time in New York with us, pestering her by the minute. I liked her smile and radiance (I have this issue with brunettes...) but was so excited for the city I could have asked the whole bus to party with the crew all week....
Party we did. After taking a few nights off, this is my vacation after all, we hit the town. First night out, I stumbled into a jam session where a guitar was promptly rented for me and the jam was on. It's always interesting improvising with musicians from around the country and this was no different. Rock and roll is alive indeed in New York and it came through the vibe that night. Soulful city rock with street noise and steely blues....
Another night I found myself in a bumper-car like charade through west Greenwich Village, THE village, with my always adventurous friend, Laura. We met up with her hilariously sarcastic brother and his fiance, had expresso's with cognac and dove down into THE dive, a dark bar straight from the time of dark colonial taverns, with a beer list to match.
In a randomly amazing sign that this was my personal East Coast music tour where I finally got to just listen, rather than produce and play, a very smart (Masters in Math something incredible....) Emily hooked us up with Furthur tickets on Coney Island. After rollicking hard, I mean hard, in the oldest, most famous roller coaster in the world, The Cyclone, we watched the surviving members of the Grateful Dead do what they've been doing best for thirty years under a warm Coney Island sky. Fireworks followed, bookending my trip perfectly.
I had enough hot dogs, the classic at Coney, to burst on the long train home.
Sitting in LaGuardia, I'm sad to leave this place. The energy and human creativity and drive is tangible everywhere. I plan on returning in the fall to produce some tracks with up-and-coming Brooklyn producers and play some showcase shows for those in the know. Until then, back to Colorado for a show tonight and the continued push to deliver "Actual Natural" to the masses.
Keep on pushing on , people, pushin' on.
Tuesday, June 8
Home
I just moved into my apartment. During the winter I lived with a family (my best friends and mentors) and since then commuted around the state, toured around the nation in an RV, and lived in New Orleans where little sleeping goes down anyhow.
But this place.... My own loft apartment in one of my favorite towns, down-valley from Vail. This spot let's me stay relatively stationary while playing weekly gigs in the valley, where our fans have dictated that we play early and often this summer season. But more importantly (I really never minded the mountainous commute, although my body might tell otherwise) I have my own space to create. To be loud, quiet, exacting in my practicing, sloppy in my writing, whatever I choose at any time or never at all. I can see the Eagle River out my window and already have a modest studio set-up in the corner of my room for new demos.
I've entered into a nice, steady period of songwriting recently. Like anything, songwriting takes practice and only a few gems can be mined from years of consistency. Except consistency is creativities' sworn enemy. You would think (and if you read this blog, you're right most of the time) that special occasions, situations or circumstances spark the creative process. Well how then can you expect to wake up and feel so special every day? Tasting the same coffee, toothpaste, reading the same paper, engaging in the same awkward morning ritual with your co-workers every morning makes one feel pretty regular. Sure I'm happy to be alive and recognize the immense beauty around me (especially in this here valley), but waking up at high altitude after long nights filled with overly-appreciative, whiskey-bearing fans makes me less inclined to write that hit tune, filled with the exuberance of life itself...
The key is to realize you're not special. That's right. Mom was wrong. She might have said you were the cutest boy at school but then you graduated and this is the real world, son. So when songwriting, don't stretch for the special, unless the feeling really hits you that you've stumbled upon divine lyrical wisdom, something everyone MUST hear. Instead, shoot for the common denominator, there are only a few human stories to be told: love, death, money... what am I forgetting here?? But those concepts are all so grandiose. Everybody wakes up groggy, goes to work stressed, comes home and hopefully has enough energy to maybe ponder those other grandiose concepts. So write for those people.
Either write about how you understand what their life is like, empathy some call it. Or write about love and death and life in a way that in that spare second between chewing his meatloaf and the start of the season finale of Lost, someone might understand what in god's name you're babbling on about, and see the world like you do, through your eyes.
But this place.... My own loft apartment in one of my favorite towns, down-valley from Vail. This spot let's me stay relatively stationary while playing weekly gigs in the valley, where our fans have dictated that we play early and often this summer season. But more importantly (I really never minded the mountainous commute, although my body might tell otherwise) I have my own space to create. To be loud, quiet, exacting in my practicing, sloppy in my writing, whatever I choose at any time or never at all. I can see the Eagle River out my window and already have a modest studio set-up in the corner of my room for new demos.
I've entered into a nice, steady period of songwriting recently. Like anything, songwriting takes practice and only a few gems can be mined from years of consistency. Except consistency is creativities' sworn enemy. You would think (and if you read this blog, you're right most of the time) that special occasions, situations or circumstances spark the creative process. Well how then can you expect to wake up and feel so special every day? Tasting the same coffee, toothpaste, reading the same paper, engaging in the same awkward morning ritual with your co-workers every morning makes one feel pretty regular. Sure I'm happy to be alive and recognize the immense beauty around me (especially in this here valley), but waking up at high altitude after long nights filled with overly-appreciative, whiskey-bearing fans makes me less inclined to write that hit tune, filled with the exuberance of life itself...
The key is to realize you're not special. That's right. Mom was wrong. She might have said you were the cutest boy at school but then you graduated and this is the real world, son. So when songwriting, don't stretch for the special, unless the feeling really hits you that you've stumbled upon divine lyrical wisdom, something everyone MUST hear. Instead, shoot for the common denominator, there are only a few human stories to be told: love, death, money... what am I forgetting here?? But those concepts are all so grandiose. Everybody wakes up groggy, goes to work stressed, comes home and hopefully has enough energy to maybe ponder those other grandiose concepts. So write for those people.
Either write about how you understand what their life is like, empathy some call it. Or write about love and death and life in a way that in that spare second between chewing his meatloaf and the start of the season finale of Lost, someone might understand what in god's name you're babbling on about, and see the world like you do, through your eyes.
Wednesday, June 2
Oil Spill
I can't really fathom the oil spill. For several reasons, I can't wrap my mind around it. I think part of that is some sort of emotional response my immune system impinges on me to keep my literal cranium from exploding into a fine pink, brain-colored mist, or from flying over to BP headquarters in jolly-old and raising the issue personally.
Part of it is not being able to comprehend the literal physics and physical size of the disaster. I understand that a methane pocket caused the Deepwater Horizon to explode and sink and that there have been half a dozen methods to stop the poisonous sludge from gushing into our ocean waters. By far the worst part of this disaster were the hard working guys who perished as generators and rigging exploded around them like the materialization of hell itself.
The ocean and its immensity have always frightened me on a primal level. Have you ever looked at a ship-wreck in dim, under-water light while scuba diving and not had the immediate urge to be topside? Throw in some barracuda and I'm officially soiling my wet suit during my hasty ascent. Not to mention we haven't explored more than about five percent of the ocean, one percent when talking about the sea floor itself (where I hear only the most terrible sea monsters prefer to spend their days). The National Ocean Service says that the vast majority of the ocean is dark, no light can penetrate below 3,000 feet. Dark AND unknown? No thanks.
The ocean's getting even darker, with oil. It's all I can think about, trying to comprehend how it happened, and more importantly, how the hell it will be stopped before the August relief-well dig completion. The worst part? There is not much I can do sitting here, high in the rockies, except send hair clippings for oil-absorbent buoys (done the day after I got my customary post-tour hair cut).
This sense of helplessness led to great satisfaction when I read this morning that the feds will be investigating both civil and criminal cases against BP. And while we are talking about the current administration (isn't this a music blog?) I'd like to say, unabashedly, that Obama is doing a good job. He's pragmatic, responsive, doesn't make America sound like a bunch of red-necks, and has pushed legislation through which will make Americans healthier and prevent bankers from getting too much wealthier. Bush sat on his ass while domestic issues like Katrina ate at the soul of our country, while lying to the public on the premise of starting wars of aggression, a war which has gone on to be the longest engagement in our history, unless you count the pointless, counterproductive money waste we call the "war on drugs".
As it turns out, nature herself might be the saving grace of this whole situation. While BP rejects inventors and scientists, the ideas of those who've known something like this was going to happen and put their dollars into stopping it, there is a multitude of thought and innovation being put into how to fix this. You can find it all over YouTube. But the real fix might be nature's built-in protections against oil which is, after all a naturally occuring substance itself. Scientists say plant-matter can recover from one good oiling, although the second or third will kill it off. Microscopic organisms in the ocean can eat oil particles. Warm sea water facilitates the evaporation of the oil off the surface.
In the interim BP needs to stop using environmentally harmful dispersants, keep the oil off the coastline and let nature do what she does with the thousands of naturally occurring oil leaks on the seabed floor all over the world.
If it is found that BP management was criminally negligent in their safety precautions, precautions protecting the very world which allows them to breath air, taste their caviar or feel the wind in their hair while riding in the Rolls, all while blindly preparing to decimate a region already embattled with nature, then heads should roll as an example that the Earth, our Mother, is not to be fucked with.
Part of it is not being able to comprehend the literal physics and physical size of the disaster. I understand that a methane pocket caused the Deepwater Horizon to explode and sink and that there have been half a dozen methods to stop the poisonous sludge from gushing into our ocean waters. By far the worst part of this disaster were the hard working guys who perished as generators and rigging exploded around them like the materialization of hell itself.
The ocean and its immensity have always frightened me on a primal level. Have you ever looked at a ship-wreck in dim, under-water light while scuba diving and not had the immediate urge to be topside? Throw in some barracuda and I'm officially soiling my wet suit during my hasty ascent. Not to mention we haven't explored more than about five percent of the ocean, one percent when talking about the sea floor itself (where I hear only the most terrible sea monsters prefer to spend their days). The National Ocean Service says that the vast majority of the ocean is dark, no light can penetrate below 3,000 feet. Dark AND unknown? No thanks.
The ocean's getting even darker, with oil. It's all I can think about, trying to comprehend how it happened, and more importantly, how the hell it will be stopped before the August relief-well dig completion. The worst part? There is not much I can do sitting here, high in the rockies, except send hair clippings for oil-absorbent buoys (done the day after I got my customary post-tour hair cut).
This sense of helplessness led to great satisfaction when I read this morning that the feds will be investigating both civil and criminal cases against BP. And while we are talking about the current administration (isn't this a music blog?) I'd like to say, unabashedly, that Obama is doing a good job. He's pragmatic, responsive, doesn't make America sound like a bunch of red-necks, and has pushed legislation through which will make Americans healthier and prevent bankers from getting too much wealthier. Bush sat on his ass while domestic issues like Katrina ate at the soul of our country, while lying to the public on the premise of starting wars of aggression, a war which has gone on to be the longest engagement in our history, unless you count the pointless, counterproductive money waste we call the "war on drugs".
As it turns out, nature herself might be the saving grace of this whole situation. While BP rejects inventors and scientists, the ideas of those who've known something like this was going to happen and put their dollars into stopping it, there is a multitude of thought and innovation being put into how to fix this. You can find it all over YouTube. But the real fix might be nature's built-in protections against oil which is, after all a naturally occuring substance itself. Scientists say plant-matter can recover from one good oiling, although the second or third will kill it off. Microscopic organisms in the ocean can eat oil particles. Warm sea water facilitates the evaporation of the oil off the surface.
In the interim BP needs to stop using environmentally harmful dispersants, keep the oil off the coastline and let nature do what she does with the thousands of naturally occurring oil leaks on the seabed floor all over the world.
If it is found that BP management was criminally negligent in their safety precautions, precautions protecting the very world which allows them to breath air, taste their caviar or feel the wind in their hair while riding in the Rolls, all while blindly preparing to decimate a region already embattled with nature, then heads should roll as an example that the Earth, our Mother, is not to be fucked with.
Saturday, May 22
Summer is here..
Summer is here.. - Trevor Jones's MySpace Blog | - New Album and Summer Plans
Summer is here in Colorado, evidenced by the mojito party about to go down in my parent's house for my best friend from childhood, Mike, who is getting married in July. I admire him and admire his fiance even more for putting up with the guy. I can't see myself getting married, my profession simply prevents it, for one. Put by Tony Montana, a mutual idol for Mike and I both, "In this country, you gotta make the money first."
So how do you make money as a musician? Not by selling physical copies or downloads of your music. We in Frogs have a decent shot at that, only because our record label is small, independent and most importantly, cool. But for most of rock history bands gave all their money to the label who for some reason, wanted it back after recording costs, mastering costs, mixing costs, limousine and cocaine costs, and fluffy pink pillows on the hotel beds during the entire recording process costs were all factored in. Thank the rock gods we live in more moderate times.
No, to make money as a musician you simply play your backside off. This is inevitably a good thing because while you're spending all day writing blogs and updating facebook instead of practicing, a show every night provides three hours of shedding and shredding that makes you think in real time, although you have to be able to take the same musical risks you would in practice so you can grow, even if it means falling flat on your face first. This is a point the industry analyst everyone loves to hate, Bob Lefsetz, makes a lot, that the music is the only thing that can save the music now. I just wonder if we as a people have time for the epic rock song anymore, now that the internet has replaced baseball as our national pastime. Musician's wages haven't gone up since the 70's but that doesn't mean a couple hundred bucks for just a couple hours of indulging in your art is bad pay at all. It's all about the frequency with which you can book and keep gigs. I'm playing at the farmer's market this month, on Sunday's with my keyboard playing alter-ego in the Stereo Assassins, even driving across the state to play two gigs in the same day on some days. A positive attitude and willingness to travel go a long way.
No travelling today, however. I'm playing just up the highway in Denver at Jordan's Bistro with an old friend tonight. First I need a mojito.
Summer is here in Colorado, evidenced by the mojito party about to go down in my parent's house for my best friend from childhood, Mike, who is getting married in July. I admire him and admire his fiance even more for putting up with the guy. I can't see myself getting married, my profession simply prevents it, for one. Put by Tony Montana, a mutual idol for Mike and I both, "In this country, you gotta make the money first."
So how do you make money as a musician? Not by selling physical copies or downloads of your music. We in Frogs have a decent shot at that, only because our record label is small, independent and most importantly, cool. But for most of rock history bands gave all their money to the label who for some reason, wanted it back after recording costs, mastering costs, mixing costs, limousine and cocaine costs, and fluffy pink pillows on the hotel beds during the entire recording process costs were all factored in. Thank the rock gods we live in more moderate times.
No, to make money as a musician you simply play your backside off. This is inevitably a good thing because while you're spending all day writing blogs and updating facebook instead of practicing, a show every night provides three hours of shedding and shredding that makes you think in real time, although you have to be able to take the same musical risks you would in practice so you can grow, even if it means falling flat on your face first. This is a point the industry analyst everyone loves to hate, Bob Lefsetz, makes a lot, that the music is the only thing that can save the music now. I just wonder if we as a people have time for the epic rock song anymore, now that the internet has replaced baseball as our national pastime. Musician's wages haven't gone up since the 70's but that doesn't mean a couple hundred bucks for just a couple hours of indulging in your art is bad pay at all. It's all about the frequency with which you can book and keep gigs. I'm playing at the farmer's market this month, on Sunday's with my keyboard playing alter-ego in the Stereo Assassins, even driving across the state to play two gigs in the same day on some days. A positive attitude and willingness to travel go a long way.
No travelling today, however. I'm playing just up the highway in Denver at Jordan's Bistro with an old friend tonight. First I need a mojito.
Thursday, May 13
After New Orleans
I feel like I have culture shock after spending a month in New Orleans with Frogs Gone Fishin' and moving back to Colorado for the summer. That's pretty strange, I grew up in Denver and have spent so many weekends romping in the mountains where I'll locate myself this summer. Something about NOLA has just become so entwined, so complimentary to my lifestyle and profession that living other places seems strange.
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
Wednesday, March 31
NOLA BOUND
from frogstour.com:
Last night was our final stop of tour and we're now headed down I-85 toward Atlanta. The crowd in Greensboro, NC was super responsive and and a nice way to end a tour of varied crowds in lots of new venues and markets. There's an adjustment all musicians have to make when they leave their comfortable home pond for other lily pads. The crowds will always be smaller and less receptive than your good people back home. We miss Colorado most on nights when the creepy sound guy, over sized door man and randy bartendress are the only three souls in the club, most likely peeved they have to work at all with such poor attendance. It's not your fault... March Madness, rain, certain other jam bands who seem to follow your every scheduled stop on the road, all compete for people's attention. More than likely these people have never heard of you, so you make sure and treat the ones who have as best you can.
But there are those nights... Dayton, Chicago, Charleston, Greensboro.. when people get DOWN! The crowd dictates how you play, they even play you. Even when just a few people are dancing hard, it can be better that a packed room full of sedentary listeners. And watching four girls dance makes it easier to play than a whole room of dudes who just want to know what kind of Monster Cable you use, trust us.
Other shows... Nashville, Milwaukee, Aimes, Cedar Rapids... are for friends. Some of these people have supported us unconditionally from the beginning and show up, rain or shine, competing John Mayer concert or not, and give us hope. Hope sounds like strong language, like we are in a life or death situation and this is just music, people. But making that adjustment from comfortable regional musician to striving touring artist takes a commitment to rejecting attachments like knowing exactly where you'll fall asleep that night or where you'll be in three day's time. Fans and friends really help that process along and make the whole ride fun.
So, in addition to friends and fans, we'd like to also acknowledge all the beautiful freaks we've met this time around the nation. You make touring REALLY interesting. Whether it's walking into a house filled with sleeping bodies all over the floor, dreadlocks and patchwork pants everywhere, or rowdiness that only college parties can really accomplish, thank you, funky freaky people of the USA.
Tour isn't technically over just yet, because it's that time of year again, time for our yearly residency in the musically epic city of New Orleans. Last year we finished up with a gig at the historic Maple Leaf Bar on Oak St., uptown. Since then, we threw a 10-band festival at Red Rocks and Trevor even sat-in with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Now we are kicking off our NOLA stay with two Wednesdays in a row at The Maple Leaf and returning to CO in May with a gig alongside the Dirty Dozen Brass Band! That will all correspond with the release of Actual Natural on Mountain Size Records which was just mastered by two-time Grammy winner David Glasser and is being pressed as we speak with artwork by TRIPP, the psychedelic poster czar of Colorado himself.
New Orleans is always a productive time for us and new songs are always learned and written. There is so much to pick up down there, both musically and otherwise. The colors of the flowers and houses are even visually overwhelming. We look forward to playing with our musical friends , as well. The level of musicianship in NOLA is unparalleled in most parts of the nation. For now, keep your eyes peeled for the release of Actual Natural in a couple weeks and come visit us in New Orleans. Yeah you right...
Last night was our final stop of tour and we're now headed down I-85 toward Atlanta. The crowd in Greensboro, NC was super responsive and and a nice way to end a tour of varied crowds in lots of new venues and markets. There's an adjustment all musicians have to make when they leave their comfortable home pond for other lily pads. The crowds will always be smaller and less receptive than your good people back home. We miss Colorado most on nights when the creepy sound guy, over sized door man and randy bartendress are the only three souls in the club, most likely peeved they have to work at all with such poor attendance. It's not your fault... March Madness, rain, certain other jam bands who seem to follow your every scheduled stop on the road, all compete for people's attention. More than likely these people have never heard of you, so you make sure and treat the ones who have as best you can.
But there are those nights... Dayton, Chicago, Charleston, Greensboro.. when people get DOWN! The crowd dictates how you play, they even play you. Even when just a few people are dancing hard, it can be better that a packed room full of sedentary listeners. And watching four girls dance makes it easier to play than a whole room of dudes who just want to know what kind of Monster Cable you use, trust us.
Other shows... Nashville, Milwaukee, Aimes, Cedar Rapids... are for friends. Some of these people have supported us unconditionally from the beginning and show up, rain or shine, competing John Mayer concert or not, and give us hope. Hope sounds like strong language, like we are in a life or death situation and this is just music, people. But making that adjustment from comfortable regional musician to striving touring artist takes a commitment to rejecting attachments like knowing exactly where you'll fall asleep that night or where you'll be in three day's time. Fans and friends really help that process along and make the whole ride fun.
So, in addition to friends and fans, we'd like to also acknowledge all the beautiful freaks we've met this time around the nation. You make touring REALLY interesting. Whether it's walking into a house filled with sleeping bodies all over the floor, dreadlocks and patchwork pants everywhere, or rowdiness that only college parties can really accomplish, thank you, funky freaky people of the USA.
Tour isn't technically over just yet, because it's that time of year again, time for our yearly residency in the musically epic city of New Orleans. Last year we finished up with a gig at the historic Maple Leaf Bar on Oak St., uptown. Since then, we threw a 10-band festival at Red Rocks and Trevor even sat-in with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Now we are kicking off our NOLA stay with two Wednesdays in a row at The Maple Leaf and returning to CO in May with a gig alongside the Dirty Dozen Brass Band! That will all correspond with the release of Actual Natural on Mountain Size Records which was just mastered by two-time Grammy winner David Glasser and is being pressed as we speak with artwork by TRIPP, the psychedelic poster czar of Colorado himself.
New Orleans is always a productive time for us and new songs are always learned and written. There is so much to pick up down there, both musically and otherwise. The colors of the flowers and houses are even visually overwhelming. We look forward to playing with our musical friends , as well. The level of musicianship in NOLA is unparalleled in most parts of the nation. For now, keep your eyes peeled for the release of Actual Natural in a couple weeks and come visit us in New Orleans. Yeah you right...
Sunday, March 28
Southern Air
The air is just sweeter down here. Pulling into Charleston was like emerging from a cold dream into a new paradise. Only hours before I had gone to sleep on a cold mountain highway in Appalachia after driving all night till dawn and now woke near the beach, saltwater smell drifting through the cabin. The beach felt replenishing. After months of trying to stay warm under layers and layers of clothing in the High Rockies, I couldn't help but jump in the salty Atlantic three or four times, cold water, waves and all.
The show on King St. was packed and rowdy. We were told the female/male ratio here is 7-1. In the Vail Valley it's one female for every seven dudes. I'm moving to the beach...
Something about the South promotes a heavier, slower way of playing music and leading life, for that matter. Of course, in my mind nothing can compare to New Orleans in the Spring. The flowers, sun, music, festivals, and beautiful people mix about in a heavy stew of history and funky energy and the result in spectacular. We'll be there by Friday. You are welcome to come visit!
I'm writing and playing guitar every day in the RV. This is the absolute best way to travel down the road in America and observe America, 55 mph at a time.
Who needs a tour bus?
The show on King St. was packed and rowdy. We were told the female/male ratio here is 7-1. In the Vail Valley it's one female for every seven dudes. I'm moving to the beach...
Something about the South promotes a heavier, slower way of playing music and leading life, for that matter. Of course, in my mind nothing can compare to New Orleans in the Spring. The flowers, sun, music, festivals, and beautiful people mix about in a heavy stew of history and funky energy and the result in spectacular. We'll be there by Friday. You are welcome to come visit!
I'm writing and playing guitar every day in the RV. This is the absolute best way to travel down the road in America and observe America, 55 mph at a time.
Who needs a tour bus?
Thursday, March 25
Almost to New Orleans
Tour is catching up with me. You notice about three weeks in that you no longer care about shaving or that smell in the RV. It becomes you, you become tour. I've noticed the same feeling on backpacking trips before. My Dad and brother, Eric, are out on the trail in Utah right now. I wonder if they've broken the smell-barrier yet, when you're so used to the group smell, it disappears.
After the first week, weather in the Midwest became nicer, sunnier, and more humid (the call of The South). Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison, St. Louis, and the big shocker of the tour Dayton, were all fun shows. We are earning fans, one at a time. That is the model now. Gone are the days of hiding backstage, coming out and playing your hour set only to retreat behind a curtain again. God forbid anyone stop you to ask about the music. Music was more mysterious in the 70's. Now Twitter and Facebook and Myspace and Google Earth and the CIA make being anonymous pretty difficult. Some bands, like TOOL, have somehow managed to keep their personal identities under wraps while attaining a huge level of success. Others are like John Mayer, who just got into worldwide hot water for his tweets.
The point is, a record deal and darkened limo are not the golden chalice of music anymore. I looked up Miley Cyrus the other day because I have a friend who wrongfully was ripped apart last week on American Idol, and I was curious who the celebrity vocal coach retained as a label. Hollywood Records it turns out. These are the same people who bring you The Jonas Brothers and countless other acts who grow up as "artists" in the Disney Conglomerate. In other words, the highest selling record for who knows how long in 2009 was put out by the same people who imparted Mickey Mouse to our national heritage.
No, we are doing excellent in our 1987 Mallard Sprinter, thank you. And our record label doesn't have a limo, it has a hot tub. The party comes to us.
Speaking of Mountain Size Records, seeing pictures of our album being mastered by who some call the master, David Glasser, both Grammy's in plain view on the console in his studio, was awesome. I can't wait for Actual Natural to come out. It's the best sounding thing we've done and it will be a platform for our success in the near future. Brad Smalling deserves a lot of credit for pulling Frogs out of a lablel-less, album-less vacuum and getting our record out in time for summer. We are already seeing increased attention from booking agencies and potential managers. Real life people who want to help bands! They're out there!
As I write this we are pulling into Lexington, KY. Needless to say, we've left the Midwest and it's vast expanse and entered the humid South. Frogs like the humidity. We'll see shows in new markets this week, Charleston (beach!) and Greensboro, then on to my favorite city in the world, New Orleans. First we'll stop in Nashville next Monday, a city I never could have guessed I would have such an intense and long relationship with. We will play these shows alongside a rising force in the funk scene, Lubriphonic. We've even received wind that some very important agency people might be observing the Nashville show. Can't wait to blow their minds.
Check http://www.frogsgonefishin.com and http://www.mountainsizerecords.com for album info and tour schedule!
Wednesday, March 10
InsiderIowa.com - The Intersection of Big Ideas and News - The Insider Sessions
Check out this sweet video interview we did during set-break in the RV at our Ames, IA show. Thanks Erika!
InsiderIowa.com - The Intersection of Big Ideas and News - The Insider Sessions
InsiderIowa.com - The Intersection of Big Ideas and News - The Insider Sessions
Monday, March 8
Week Two: Actual Natural Tour
The following is a tour journal written for Frogs Gone Fishin's Tour Blog:
We are now into our second week of tour and looking forward to what the northerly reaches of the Midwest have in store for us. Nebraska and Iowa are full of friendly folk, and a big shout out to everyone who helped us there! The weather, however.... gray and dull for the whole first week. If it wasn't for Alie V taking us in and feeding us we might have lost it out there in the fog, rain, snow or whatever you Iowans label that gray blanket covering the state in the winter.
After a comfy sleep in a warm cabin, provided by our electric hook-up at the RV site, we woke up yesterday to showers and breakfast (courtesy of Mark) for Trevor's birthday! But as Madison, WI (biggest college party town 2006 according to Playboy) is a much more appropriate locale for birthday bashes, we set off early and rolled into Madison just in time to start the festivities.
Our travels yesterday provided a brief break from the gray-cold cloud. The golden pinkish sunset at the Iowa-Wisconsin border was enough to remind us that we are headed south, eventually. The past couple days have been incredibly productive and we picked up some dates in Nashville and Charleston, the latter being a new market for us. Warm weather, here we come!
We have some business to take care of first, however. Frogs have been to Milwaukee and Chicago before and this time we are bringing new tunes and playing three nights in Chi-town! Two summers ago, Frogs spent time lounging around Lollapalooza in beautiful Grant Park, enjoying days off and limitless music wafting around the grounds outside the festival. That same tour we spent several nights absorbing the local stories and local beer in Milwaukee.
Returning to a city, any city, more than a year and a half later is always interesting. On one hand you are so excited to see familiar landmarks that remind you of fun nights during tours' past. On the other, you become a little too nostalgic when faces you used to play for don't come back, reminding you that any market has to be worked on consistently for a number of years to build a fan base there.
The guys had a ridiculous time last night for Trevor's birthday and wasted no time meeting a crew of MC's who kept the rhymes flowing while we bar-hopped. A big shout out to Rob and The Madison crew. Your knack for hustling free birthday shots is uncanny. Hopefully we see you at the show tonight!
This town knows how to party, please believe people. We'll see you at The Frequency tonight in Madison!!!
We are now into our second week of tour and looking forward to what the northerly reaches of the Midwest have in store for us. Nebraska and Iowa are full of friendly folk, and a big shout out to everyone who helped us there! The weather, however.... gray and dull for the whole first week. If it wasn't for Alie V taking us in and feeding us we might have lost it out there in the fog, rain, snow or whatever you Iowans label that gray blanket covering the state in the winter.
After a comfy sleep in a warm cabin, provided by our electric hook-up at the RV site, we woke up yesterday to showers and breakfast (courtesy of Mark) for Trevor's birthday! But as Madison, WI (biggest college party town 2006 according to Playboy) is a much more appropriate locale for birthday bashes, we set off early and rolled into Madison just in time to start the festivities.
Our travels yesterday provided a brief break from the gray-cold cloud. The golden pinkish sunset at the Iowa-Wisconsin border was enough to remind us that we are headed south, eventually. The past couple days have been incredibly productive and we picked up some dates in Nashville and Charleston, the latter being a new market for us. Warm weather, here we come!
We have some business to take care of first, however. Frogs have been to Milwaukee and Chicago before and this time we are bringing new tunes and playing three nights in Chi-town! Two summers ago, Frogs spent time lounging around Lollapalooza in beautiful Grant Park, enjoying days off and limitless music wafting around the grounds outside the festival. That same tour we spent several nights absorbing the local stories and local beer in Milwaukee.
Returning to a city, any city, more than a year and a half later is always interesting. On one hand you are so excited to see familiar landmarks that remind you of fun nights during tours' past. On the other, you become a little too nostalgic when faces you used to play for don't come back, reminding you that any market has to be worked on consistently for a number of years to build a fan base there.
The guys had a ridiculous time last night for Trevor's birthday and wasted no time meeting a crew of MC's who kept the rhymes flowing while we bar-hopped. A big shout out to Rob and The Madison crew. Your knack for hustling free birthday shots is uncanny. Hopefully we see you at the show tonight!
This town knows how to party, please believe people. We'll see you at The Frequency tonight in Madison!!!
Friday, March 5
Back in Business with Bertha, Baby!
We got great news yesterday morning. After a reserved but fun crowd in Lincoln, the Frogs headed to the Nebraska-Wesleyan dorms for some rest, leaving all of our equipment in the bar because we had no trailer attached to an RV to put it in. Bertha was in the shop and the band was uncertain about our immediate touring future. We had to be in Omaha the next day, not to mention 15 more cities in the next three weeks.
I woke up on the floor, as often happens on tour, but to great news as Mark announced that our transmission was not shot as we had feared. Simply a fan clutch! Only the fan clutch? What the hell is a fan clutch? Who cares? It's way less expensive to fix than a tranny and so like that, we borrowed a car from one of our wonderful hostesses and moved our still functioning RV over to the good old Lincoln Lube for some lube and fan clutch work costing a fraction of the time and money the tranny would have.
Two hours in daily life can seem like a long time. Some people only get thirty, maybe forty-five minutes for lunch at their day job but on tour, two hours is just enough time to get settled. Most drives are four to six hours and so sitting for two hours at an auto-shop is not nearly as painful as it sounds, especially when you have the knowledge of exactly what's wrong with your vehicle. It's that awful fear of the unknown, the fear we played through and went to sleep with
that really eats you.
In less than a day after we got Bertha back, she became our life support vehicle. We charged her batteries and filled her with nutritious food. You can relieve yourself at 60 m.p.h. and look out the back window to see the Midwestern skyline slowing sliding backwards. We even took on another soul in Omaha, Travis Jones, our all-around road helper. Watch out for some upcoming Vlog's on Mountain Size Record's website because they might include an interview or two with Travis. He's a character to say the least.
Now we're back in business, baby, blogging while flying down the road near the Iowa/Nebraska border, enjoying the comforts of a life largely left in the last century by generations of RV lovers. It's easy to see why they loved it. It's easy to see why they left it, opting for frequent flier miles and a Prius in the garage instead. We were able to enjoy fajitas on the rig before the show last night, we also get 8 miles to the gallon...
At this very moment, I'm sitting behind Travis while he mouths "ooo.. la la la" in the front seat along with some Fugees tunes pumping out of Pandora on our surround-sound speakers (old Technics for that matter, they sound GREAT). This is the life. And this is mos def' tour season. Whether it's a tranny or a toothbrush, every day is filled with logistical problems while trying to promote your shows in the future. Making great music and meeting new people make it all worth it, so we sincerely hope to see you out there! You can keep and get in touch with the Frogs like this:
Frogs Gone Fishin' Official Website
Mountain Size Records
Facebook
Twitter
I woke up on the floor, as often happens on tour, but to great news as Mark announced that our transmission was not shot as we had feared. Simply a fan clutch! Only the fan clutch? What the hell is a fan clutch? Who cares? It's way less expensive to fix than a tranny and so like that, we borrowed a car from one of our wonderful hostesses and moved our still functioning RV over to the good old Lincoln Lube for some lube and fan clutch work costing a fraction of the time and money the tranny would have.
Two hours in daily life can seem like a long time. Some people only get thirty, maybe forty-five minutes for lunch at their day job but on tour, two hours is just enough time to get settled. Most drives are four to six hours and so sitting for two hours at an auto-shop is not nearly as painful as it sounds, especially when you have the knowledge of exactly what's wrong with your vehicle. It's that awful fear of the unknown, the fear we played through and went to sleep with
that really eats you.
In less than a day after we got Bertha back, she became our life support vehicle. We charged her batteries and filled her with nutritious food. You can relieve yourself at 60 m.p.h. and look out the back window to see the Midwestern skyline slowing sliding backwards. We even took on another soul in Omaha, Travis Jones, our all-around road helper. Watch out for some upcoming Vlog's on Mountain Size Record's website because they might include an interview or two with Travis. He's a character to say the least.
Now we're back in business, baby, blogging while flying down the road near the Iowa/Nebraska border, enjoying the comforts of a life largely left in the last century by generations of RV lovers. It's easy to see why they loved it. It's easy to see why they left it, opting for frequent flier miles and a Prius in the garage instead. We were able to enjoy fajitas on the rig before the show last night, we also get 8 miles to the gallon...
At this very moment, I'm sitting behind Travis while he mouths "ooo.. la la la" in the front seat along with some Fugees tunes pumping out of Pandora on our surround-sound speakers (old Technics for that matter, they sound GREAT). This is the life. And this is mos def' tour season. Whether it's a tranny or a toothbrush, every day is filled with logistical problems while trying to promote your shows in the future. Making great music and meeting new people make it all worth it, so we sincerely hope to see you out there! You can keep and get in touch with the Frogs like this:
Frogs Gone Fishin' Official Website
Mountain Size Records
Wednesday, March 3
Of Course, Of Course
Of course.
Things were going too well. In the course of a couple months, Frogs Gone Fishin' had signed a record deal with a fantastic independent record label, tracked and produced a killer album and bought an RV to go on tour with.
AND WHAT AN RV!
-generator
-stove and fridge and freezer and microwave
-john and shower
-captain's seats
-Vintage 1987 styling
-full wireless internet access...
-CB radio (for awkward trucker interaction)
-sleeping for 6.....
And then... Weeee Slooooooweed Dooooooooooooown. Just about 20 miles outside Lincoln.
All the guys in Frogs know the feeling. You're going 60 in second gear and it sounds like it. Our tranny has failed before. You can probably read some other pissed-off rant about shitty American cars in my archive, two years past since our Suburban, Leslie, shat out on us in New Mexico.
Why doesn't our bus ever break down in Prague or Hong Kong?
Doom sets in. Dread. We pull over in a small Nebraska town and the mechanic at the fortunately placed FORD MEGA MART forecasts more doom (shot tranny) and directs us to the transmission "specialist'' in Lincoln who then informs us we will know at noon tomorrow the fate of our newly purchased palace on wheels.
So here we are. Setting up in the Irish bar in Lincoln gives us more to do than we enjoyed back in Raton, New Mexico when Leslie met her maker.
Will post an update tomorrow. We'll find a way to Omaha one way or the other...
Things were going too well. In the course of a couple months, Frogs Gone Fishin' had signed a record deal with a fantastic independent record label, tracked and produced a killer album and bought an RV to go on tour with.
AND WHAT AN RV!
-generator
-stove and fridge and freezer and microwave
-john and shower
-captain's seats
-Vintage 1987 styling
-full wireless internet access...
-CB radio (for awkward trucker interaction)
-sleeping for 6.....
And then... Weeee Slooooooweed Dooooooooooooown. Just about 20 miles outside Lincoln.
All the guys in Frogs know the feeling. You're going 60 in second gear and it sounds like it. Our tranny has failed before. You can probably read some other pissed-off rant about shitty American cars in my archive, two years past since our Suburban, Leslie, shat out on us in New Mexico.
Why doesn't our bus ever break down in Prague or Hong Kong?
Doom sets in. Dread. We pull over in a small Nebraska town and the mechanic at the fortunately placed FORD MEGA MART forecasts more doom (shot tranny) and directs us to the transmission "specialist'' in Lincoln who then informs us we will know at noon tomorrow the fate of our newly purchased palace on wheels.
So here we are. Setting up in the Irish bar in Lincoln gives us more to do than we enjoyed back in Raton, New Mexico when Leslie met her maker.
Will post an update tomorrow. We'll find a way to Omaha one way or the other...
Friday, February 26
Fantasy v. Reality
Check out this short blog post our awesome lawyer (that's right Eric, you're a lawyer... AND AWESOME) wrote for our record label's website. In the post, you can see our new RV!!! This simple addition to our touring equipment (replacing Leslie the '95 Suburban) will make life MUCH MUCH easier and cooler on the road. No more weird pit-stops, numb ass-cheeks and in the event of a Total Zombie Virus Outbreak we can sleep in the thing ANYWHERE, not to mention fire rockets from the bunk above the cab. If you see this vehicle on the road, flag us down! We've got a cold one for ya inside..
Eric McClennan's deft prose:
Fantasy v. RealityMake sure and check the Frog's Website for tour dates and album info!!
Saturday, February 13
Wednesday, February 10
Sunday, January 24
Repetition
Every time I drive up to the grocery store on Arapahoe and Yosemite in our cookie cutter neighborhood shopping center, I see the same haggard older gentleman in the same trance. Dirty and grizzled he stands, mostly silent, with headphones on connected to a Walkman on his hip or in his hand. Depending on the season he wears varying numbers of layers including ripped jeans over purple sweatpants and invariably, the same gray hoodie. But whatever the season, he is always there. Always. This morning was bitterly cold and for some reason I buck what seems to be the sensible trend of sleeping in when you have a day off and headed over to the coffee shop next to the grocery store. By the way, I've been playing over five nights a week for several weeks now and do try and find the time to blog, even despite my now deformed and non-functional computer. I wish I could start dictating to computers while driving.
Anyway, my limited and what now seems like distant education in psychology tells me that this omni-present force in front of the grocery store has a mental illness which both by neccesity and comfort causes him to repeatedly dwell in the bustle of the store front.
My heart tears just a little every time I see this guy. I have a schizophrenic uncle and the confusion and ulitmate ambiguity of the illness is nothing less than heartbreaking. But I've seen this gentleman so many times now that I'm over my initial questions of if he will be OK in the long run. He'll be there. The repetition keeps him alive. I'm also determined to talk and be kind to this worn soul at some point. The only other existence I've ever observed like this was a veteran at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans who sat in the same chair every night drinking black coffee. I glanced over his shoulder one night and realized he was dwelling in the comfort of writing poetry about his experiences in the Korean War.
As humans I think we seek repetition and comfort, even if moving or living a nomadic life is the constant. I lived in the same house for 18 years before college and now am essentially living out of a suitcase. Except for the occasional existential breakdown, I enjoy this nomadic life as a musician. The kindness of others is something I depend on and it takes more creative effort to survive, but as some psychologists will tell you, it is the sedentary lifestyle we've adopted as Americans in the information age of screens and Twitter and HDTV which have led to inumberable physical and mental health problems.
In other words, human ancestors spent their ancient time thinking about how to eat, how to heat their home or make very basic ends meet. The great "acheivement" of humanity is introducing repetion, industrialization, so that we can spend limitless time thinking about our next Tweet, what happened on Desperate Housewives last night or even that sexy co-worker across the office. You're already getting the paycheck, heating the house, so why not?
But we have cancers resulting from processed foods, anxiety disorders as a result of having literally nothing to do with our time. We've become so comfortable that we are doing ourselves in. The worst part about it is that we now have all the time in the world to put a label on phenomena that were never seen as problems until very recently.
Children are restless and spent their evolutionary history picking berries or sewing garments, not sitting in classrooms for 8 hours a day. Let's call it ADD and make some cash by selling pills.
My girlfriend broke up with me. I'm sad so let's call it Depression and make some cash by selling pills.
Modern psychiatry is bullshit.
I'm a firm believer that human potential is absolute and manifests itself in different ways. Who knows what my man in front of the grocery store is thinking. His thoughts might be of profound insight or artistic depth, with no outlet for the flood of visions and observations in a society that will hardly look at him, much less listen. I do think if we lived in a world more like the ones our ancestors enjoyed, local food sources, small family oriented networks, we'd be happier.
Modern society isn't all bad. There's still football. And music.
Thank god for music, it's the best drug out there.
Frogs Gone Fishin' are mixing their second album with Brad Smalling in Evergroove Studio, due out in March on Mountain Size Records. Spring Tour starts in March and will go through the Midwest and South, culminating with Frog's yearly residency in New Orleans for the month of April.
Anyway, my limited and what now seems like distant education in psychology tells me that this omni-present force in front of the grocery store has a mental illness which both by neccesity and comfort causes him to repeatedly dwell in the bustle of the store front.
My heart tears just a little every time I see this guy. I have a schizophrenic uncle and the confusion and ulitmate ambiguity of the illness is nothing less than heartbreaking. But I've seen this gentleman so many times now that I'm over my initial questions of if he will be OK in the long run. He'll be there. The repetition keeps him alive. I'm also determined to talk and be kind to this worn soul at some point. The only other existence I've ever observed like this was a veteran at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans who sat in the same chair every night drinking black coffee. I glanced over his shoulder one night and realized he was dwelling in the comfort of writing poetry about his experiences in the Korean War.
As humans I think we seek repetition and comfort, even if moving or living a nomadic life is the constant. I lived in the same house for 18 years before college and now am essentially living out of a suitcase. Except for the occasional existential breakdown, I enjoy this nomadic life as a musician. The kindness of others is something I depend on and it takes more creative effort to survive, but as some psychologists will tell you, it is the sedentary lifestyle we've adopted as Americans in the information age of screens and Twitter and HDTV which have led to inumberable physical and mental health problems.
In other words, human ancestors spent their ancient time thinking about how to eat, how to heat their home or make very basic ends meet. The great "acheivement" of humanity is introducing repetion, industrialization, so that we can spend limitless time thinking about our next Tweet, what happened on Desperate Housewives last night or even that sexy co-worker across the office. You're already getting the paycheck, heating the house, so why not?
But we have cancers resulting from processed foods, anxiety disorders as a result of having literally nothing to do with our time. We've become so comfortable that we are doing ourselves in. The worst part about it is that we now have all the time in the world to put a label on phenomena that were never seen as problems until very recently.
Children are restless and spent their evolutionary history picking berries or sewing garments, not sitting in classrooms for 8 hours a day. Let's call it ADD and make some cash by selling pills.
My girlfriend broke up with me. I'm sad so let's call it Depression and make some cash by selling pills.
Modern psychiatry is bullshit.
I'm a firm believer that human potential is absolute and manifests itself in different ways. Who knows what my man in front of the grocery store is thinking. His thoughts might be of profound insight or artistic depth, with no outlet for the flood of visions and observations in a society that will hardly look at him, much less listen. I do think if we lived in a world more like the ones our ancestors enjoyed, local food sources, small family oriented networks, we'd be happier.
Modern society isn't all bad. There's still football. And music.
Thank god for music, it's the best drug out there.
Frogs Gone Fishin' are mixing their second album with Brad Smalling in Evergroove Studio, due out in March on Mountain Size Records. Spring Tour starts in March and will go through the Midwest and South, culminating with Frog's yearly residency in New Orleans for the month of April.
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