a free form jazz odyssey in front of a festival crowd

First off, Nils Lofgren is my hero for today. He had a song a while back called “Black Books”, they played it at the end of a Sopranos episode and it was badass. Today, I found it up on itunes- it was one of those few tunes that the i does not have, along with Neil Diamond’s “Forever In Blue Jeans”, because you know money talks, but it dont sing and dance and it dont walk, chico. So if you get a chance, download that one, it has the BEST ever cheesy synth organ sound that ends up not at all being cheesy. I listened to this song about 15 times already today, wow. The last 5 songs I have gotten from the tunes have do drums or bass. Here they are, if you give a poo, in order:
1. Richard Thompson- 1952 Vincent Black Lightning
2. White Stripes- We Are Gonna Be Friends
3. The Faces- Ooh La La
4. Taj Mahal- Stagger Lee
5. Nils Lofgren- Black Books

I recommend all of these strongly- even that white stripes one from Napolean Dynomite.

My 2nd hero of the day, well maybe last night, is the DRUMKAT. I put that bitch on a snare stand, and it fits perfectly to my left next to the hi hat. Keep in mind, i did not use it for its function of playing MIDI sounds, but just put it in place. That alone made me feel cooler than Don Imus. Yes thats right, I’m cooler than Imus. Beat that.

Does anyone know where I can find a copy of a Beck show, live in Cambridge where he played “where it’s at” solo on the Wurlitzer and made fun of berklee kids? You will be my 3rd hero if so

Does anyone else think that since Clublife got a book deal his writing is just going down hill? I mean, I know you have to be all “literary” and whatnot Rob, but stick with what works. Its not these hypothetical drama filled posts, its the mocking of Guidos, Mafia run ins, and humorous tales of slacker bouncers on the job. Stick to what works G, and no, i’m not afraid of you, bitch, do you know who I am mofo? yo, you wanna piece a dis? Dont make me call my Boyz yo, web master T Bone got my back yo.

We once had a clublife moment in an unlikely spot- the middle of the woods. When the Odyssey Crew went camping, we decided to indulge in some watersports, and go whitewater rafting. The group behind us on the dock was from my guess a Long Island bunch, talking loud, wearing fake Burberry fishing style hats, being trashy. They decided that it was taking too long to get their raft off the truck, because, you know, they had places to be, like on the river rowing a rubber boat going 3 miles an hour. They began yelling at the staff “we come here every year, you white trash! whats taking so long? Where’s the fucking boat” wow, these people were obviously very important. Let me translate that into Club Speak, “Do you know who I am? Let me in da club!” anyway, we got a good laugh.

I’m finished with the overnights on the air, time to go back to the normal schedule. The band has a show Wed, so I need to get back on track for that. We’re debuting the Drumkat as well as some lights….ooooooh. Lets hope the worlds of computers and illumination like us enough to not freeze or burn out for on goddamn day.

My boss at the station, not the one who called me a hipster, asked me to write a recount of my Elvin experience, maybe it will get put in the program guide or something? eh? seriously, I would enjoy that, I dont know why, but I totally would. I need to figure out how not to sound ike an excited little kid, or use profanity, or all CAPS, or words like YO, and the list of my writing faults continues….

I wish I could use a cowbell more while playing drums. Wouldnt that be awesome?

I want to buy a silk screening kit, or at least some iron on letters and start making shirts. I am like 2 years late on a birthday present for a friend- I was supposed to make him a shirt that said “I Date Psycho Girls” a fact which cannot be denied, but I totally slacked and feel bad about it. I also need to make Food Odyssey official uniforms for myself and T Bizzle. The ideas just dont stop. Clever anti hipster sayings, meaningless things like “BOO YA”, a black shirt that says “I Am Awesome”, you know, priceless ideas like that.

ok, G’s, lots has happened since I soaked myself in Snapple, lets get right into it in typical Steve Weiss fashion; 100 miles per hour, bobbing my head to a song only I can hear, leaving everyone in the dust except those adventerous enough to try a taste of my fast paced live hard die young rock and roll fest of a lifestyle. By live hard die young, I pretty much mean hang out and be healthy, save for a few late night Falafels which we will get to later.

Keiko Jones called me back last monday. I had worked the longest on air shift ever- 6hrs the night before from midnight to 6am, so I was out of it. She called me around noon, and invited me over Wednesday at 1:00, needless to say I didnt get back to sleep. Elvin Jones is pretty much god on the drums. Listen to Coltrane: Live At Birdland, and you will very soon realize that. His playing is simply and explosion, just a machine gun of percussive noise pummeling you in the face, unrelenting, until you finally admit to defeat and burn and dream you ever had of becomming that good. That being said, I set out on my quest to purchase a relic of this man, hoping the vibe would some how still be alive within the drum, transforming me into a player beyond my wildest dreams, and soon after I was going to buy the Empire State Building.

I cashed my paycheck Wednesday morning, designating it as “Elvin Money”. I treked up to the Jones Pad on 101 and Central Park West. I arrived a bit early, hung out in the park, which is beautiful up there, and reflected on the genius that is Elvin. Mid reflection, I recieved a call from WFUV telling me I had been awarded a pair of tickets to see Particle at Irving Plaza. My pledge of 120 is getting close to being paid off….Web Master T Bone is getting the other ticket, sorry Moochers.

At around 12:56, I headed to La Casa De Jones, awaiting some astounding mysteries of the percussive universe. And by that, I mean really old drums. Wellll, I go up to the doorman, there is a small line, the man in front of me is Gregg Kaplinger, a friend of Elvin’s- the doorman tells him to go to floor 7, and me to floor 5. What I soon learned, Is that the rumors were true, Elvin kept 2 apartments in the same building, one to live in and one JUST for drums. And when i say that, I dont mean like a kit in the center and a few furnishings, i mean SOLELY FUCKING DRUMS and cymbals. The amount was mindblowing. Easily over 1000 cymbals. Keiko was extremely nice to me, we talked for a bit, and she told me to look for anything I wanted, with the help of Gregg. We began rummaging through cymbals, but Elvin’s Coltrane era Zildjians were going for 5K a piece, Ouch. His Coltrane kick drum…3 grand…again, ouch. What I did end up getting was a 1968 Round Badge Gretsch kick drum, played on his first solo album, a beautiful thing. I plan to keep it as long as I live, making sure everyone I know is aware of it, and how freaking cool it makes me for owning it. Don’t believe what your parents tell you, its totally possible to buy “Cool” , you just have to know what to buy. Jigga What?? yeah, thats right.

Let us conitnue with the events Post Kick Drum. The rest of the week was pretty much a blur. I worked several overnights, did the rest of the week’s shifts on WBGO, playing as much Elvin related records as I could, slept 12 hrs from 7am to 7pm on thursday, and thats about all I remember until yesterday.

Last night, was the Triumphant Return of The Food ODyssey. I arrived late since I had to work, but joined in for rounds 2-4 of cuisine. We determined a few new rules. The most important of which;

Rule 6-a, section 2: Throwing up is cheating, and will get you ejected from the odyssey, in traditional fashion, where we rip the badges off your uniform, if there were badges or a uniform, which we will soon determine if uniforms will be created once the 2005-6 budget is created.

we followed with some Belgian fries with Garlic Mayo, ooh yeah. Some Falafel, then the night ended with Gyoza, not bad.

This afternoon I took a trip up to CT. I have not driven much lately, so this was like a big road trip for me. As I was leaving the casa, I searched for the appropriate music, no cd’s were immediately available containing badass driving music, so I grabbed some David Byrne, and hit the road. At about the 2nd song, it wasnt working. I scoured the radio, not happening. Perhaps I needed some personal motivation? I reached for my Elvis sunglasses, I was clearly ready to rock and be rocked. I popped in a CD from the cd case left in the car by my dad, it was Jackson Browne.

No disrespect to JB (not james brown) but he doesn’t exactly “rock”. Speeding down 95, wearing Elvis Presely sunglasses, pumping “Running On Empty” is cool for about 2:30 sec, but after that…not so much. With hits like “The Pretender” and “Somebody’s Baby” soon to follow, the mission was aborted. I prayed for some old school rock and roll tunes on the radio, but my trusty FM failed. FUV had the Irish Hour, JackFM (Formerly CBS) was just not doing it, and KROCK was just sucking it up. So, I swallowed my pride and continued with the introspective mid 70’s songwriting styles of Jackson Browne. I exited the Merrit Parkway, and approached my destination, and flipped it to Krock, just to see if the signal came in. What was on….?

RUN TO THE HILLS…IRON MAIDEN. Man, i totally cranked that shit like it was 1984, speeding around corners, feelin it…for like 3 blocks. I was going to visit the girl, who recently had the wisdom teeth out. She lives with family, and I am still in the early impression stage, so I considered it too big of a risk to pull up, do a donut in the couldesac and stand on top of the car, giving it all I;ve got screaming “Run Toooooo the Hilllllllls, Run For Your Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife”, so I reluctantly turned of the radio, and resumed my unassuming demeanor. Little did they know, the rock and roll demon that is Steven Austin Weiss Esquire lurked just beneath the surface, ready to pounce without warning. Well, maybe some warning, but not much, because i’m a badass like that. You Know It Chico.

Let me begin by offering some advice.
Many of us enjoy non alcoholic- non carbonated beverages of all varieties, from Chocolate Leche, to various types of juice, to jamba juice orange berry blitz’s. But as great as these are, I believe the staple of my beverage consumption is the one and only Snapple. From my days of bike riding to the local farm, or into town to the 7-11, I have always consumed mass amounts of Snapple. Peach, Rasberry, Lemon, Mint, Heroin, Apple, I love it. As with most Iced Tea related drinks, it must be shaken to be properly enjoyed. All those who know me, know that if Steve is all about one thing in life, its Shakin’ It. Today while at work I had a turkey burger and a peach Snapple. I shook the beverage propperly by hitting the bottom, opened it, and put it on the table next to me. As I was reading an interesting post through the Apple site about kids using laptops instead of textbooks, I raised the beverage and gave it one final shake.

What was missing from this equasion for success? The Cap.

My face, shirt, and desk were now bathed in a generous amount of The Best Stuff On Earth. I am a vigorous shaker, dont you forget it chico, and up until now that has never caused me any problems. Tearing it up on the dance floor, adding some Latin Heat with Maracas, yes, even the cliche Polaroid Picture have been mastered by the Steve. But, I may have met my match with the Snapple. The floor is now sticky, I can feel the remnants of peach on my nose, I think some even got in my eye. Damn you Apple for having moderately interesting articles on the homepage of my work computer.
You’ve won this round, oh tasty beverage, yet tomorrow is another day, and another shirt.

I’m wearing my red shirt right now, maybe its The Curse Of The Scarlet Garment? Eric Tarn, or T Bone as he will herein be knows as, burt a hole in his trusty red shirt COMPLETELY BY ACCIDENT, in a vodka induced campfire, which I IN NO WAY ENCOURAGED. And, in the late 1700’s Franz Delgado-Rubio of the now forgotten nation of Izpantsastaniano, just off the coast of Montana, spontaneously combusted while wearing an entirely red, crushed velvet jumpsuit to the local disco. What do these things have in common? Too damn hot! myself, the T-Bone, Delgado-Rubio (Or Fizzle-Dizzle-Rizzo as I call him), come on, you do the math.

In much more somber news, Web Master T Bone informed me that legendary electronic music pioneer Bob Moog passed away today. When I was in LA, trying to bring down the west coast from the inside, The Moog Movie was released in a few theaters. I drove alone one night to a theater on Wilshire Blvd that had been there since the 1930’s, which was the only place to see it. I avoided many sketchy characters outside, fumbled with an oddly complicated door, got my student discount, and sat in the center of a giant, completely beautiful, completely empty theater. Later, about 3 more people showed up. It kind of reminded me of that movie Last Action Hero, with the Governator- where the kid watches the action movies alone in some old school movie house. The film was truly inspiring. Moog himself sort of narrates the whole thing, explaining that musicians have a special relationship with an instrument, that goes beyond a mere physical connection. Its cheesy, but i think any musician believes it to be true. GO out and buy it on DVD, it will change your life

So I find myself once again at WBGO, doing some DJing. I’m having a decent time, can’t complain, except…… I forgot to bring a sufficient amount of food with me. I brought 2 oranges and a bit of mac and cheese, but I would have to throw on a fairly long track, run upstairs to the microwave, and probably run back down before the M&C is ready, so I’m just going to drink water, and complain.

I heard back from Mrs Jones today, I’ll post the results later in the week, needless to say, i’m quite nervous. I’m playing this Larry Young track right now from the album Unity, which has Elvin playing drums. All I can say is DAMN. He just rocks everything he does. If him and Lars got in a fight, the only thing left would be a danish accent and a double bass pedal.

On the train to Newark, I sat behind two construction workers- a 6ft very huge white guy, and a spanish 42yr old man (I heard him say that). The spanish gentlemen spoke barely any english, but that didnt seem to bother the big dude, who kept talking anyway. He said “Hey Mexico (pronounced me-hee-ko), Guess what I ate for lunch today? HAM SANDWICH! man, it was great, but you know, about 2 minutes afterward, i threw up everywhere!” This was said at the top of his lungs, for the whole train to hear. While others may have tuned out, I needed further information. Was it the sandwich itself, or possibly something else at fault? Lets continue, shall we?
He then begins asking how to say certain things in Spanish.

“Hey Mexico, how do you say snake? What about Train? Bus? Autobus? man, this Spanish stuff is easy, i’ll bet I could learn it quickly. Hey, how do you say milk? Leche? I love me some leche. I probably drink about half a gallon a day”

Its all coming together now

“You know, I love all kinds, especially chocolate milk. Chocolate con leche. You know, I drank a whole big thing of it at lunch today, right before I got sick”

AH! you work outside in the heat, eat a ham sandwich, then drink half a gallon of chocolate milk? Sir, you deserve your punishment. Sorry, i’ve gotta go eat a rack of lamb and sit in a steam room.

Hey, if you read the blog, why don’t you leave a comment? eh? eh? nudge nudge Maybe we can have a dialog in the comments section

I’m feeling a bit strange right now, let me tell you why.
I just spoke to Keiko Jones, wife of the legend, Elvin Jones. For those not in the know, Elvin was a jazz drummer. In my opinion, and the opinion of many others, he was the best there ever was. He was a member of the John Coltrane quartet, played on A Love Supreme, and is featured on literally hundreds of jazz recordings from the late 50’s on.

Today I came a cross a post on the old internet, saying some items of Elvin’s are being sold. I called the number, it was his house, his wife picked up. She had a very heavy japanese accent, not easy to understand, but she was very nice. I told her I was a drummer and that he was truly the best there ever was, and she was very appreciative. She said she just wants to keep his memory alive. I stumbled when she asked me what i was interested in- I figured i would never afford any of his drums, so I asked about sticks and cymbals. She said, “I will call you back within 2 days, i promise. you can call here any time”

I’m completely freaked out, I dont know what to do. Is she going to ask for thousands of dollars for a ride cymbal, which it is definitely worth, or does she not really care and will let it go for a reasonable price? His original cymbals and drums are without a doubt priceless. the gong which he played on a love supreme, the ride cymbal, anything, should really be in a museum. I will get something though, whether its a pair of sticks, a suit jacket, or a 1958 gretsch kit, whatever.

I’m going to let these thoughts bounce around in my brain for a bit, and I will get back to you

I have a Deli. I have gone to the same deli near work for long enough, that they recognize and greet me when I order food. I feel as though I have broken through the secret barrier, and have been admitted to the secret kingdom of 24 hr food venues. I have recently had a Turkey Burger on several occasions. At most delis throughout NY, they microwave the burger and put cheese on top of it. At this particular establishment, they cut it in half, put in on the grill , and put cheese in the MIDDLE! These people are my homies.

For a brief period, I lived in Los Angeles. I actually lived there, I had a job, I was part of a band, things like that. I worked for a station called KKJZ- Kjazz doing the 1-6am shift sunday into monday. Well, recently, I was clued into a messageboard which comments on the station. When searching to see if anyone mentioned me, the only response was mocking me for mispronouncing a thelonius monk song. Now, this is not really a big deal, but you know…i got a little upset. I wanted to email the poster with something like this:

Dear Sir or Madam, most likely madam, because you must be a bitch.
anyway, I read your post concerning my mispronunciation of Epistrophe as Apastrophe. Listen homie, #1, what the hell were you doing awake at 3:30 am on a monday morning? #2, go straight to hell. If you combine point #1 with the fact that you took time out of your day to talk the smack on the Steve-O on an internet messageboard, you obviously dont have much going on. I know, I know, I’m retaliating with a Blog post, but I’m doing it while working for a jazz radio station. In conclusion, people occasionally pay me to play jazz records, and not you. Also, you’re living in LA and are most likely a self centered flake making up for your undying self loathing by insulting a young person persuing a dream. I hope you feel good about yourself, do ya big guy? huh? How’s that smog and traffic?

Sincerely,
Steve

well, now that I am done with that, I will be hosting 4 programs next week. Sunday into monday 12-6am, Wed into thursday 1-6am, Friday night from 8pm-1am, and that same shift next monday. I’m guessing that person in LA is not doing something similar, muthafucka.

I saw Tyrese in union square yesterday. He was talking to some people with a bodyguard. I thought about going up to him and giving him the guido handshake-half hug, and saying “Yo, what up my brotha??” but at the last minute, I decided to keep walking.

I have developed an obsession with writing utencils and notebooks this week. I bought a case of 70 old school Eberhard pencils on ebay for 8$, but alas, they are not the 602. We’ll see how they write, and if its just not happening i’ll sharpen them and have 70 badass darts.

I’m going back to the NJ for the weekend, wish me luck and lunch.

I was doing some thinking today, and came to the realization that it would be extremely easy to alienate nearly every person around you. All it would take is an insult or observation without holding anything back. Something for instance like “You know, you’re a spoiled bitch and have never done anything for yourself in your entire life!” This is not a specific comment, but i’m guessing every single person on earth knows someone who deserves to hear that, even if its directed at Ashlee Simpson.
If one decides to really cross that line, and remove the Brain To Mouth Filter (which is not easily replaced or bought on ebay), only the really crazy people will stick around you. I’m thinking of trying it. A decent portion of people around me ride the line between sanity and beyond, so maybe not much will change.
I was reading about this pencil online today- the “Ebhard Faber Blackwing 602″. Now, besides sounding extremely badass, it supposedly is a good pencil. It takes less pressure to write smooth lines and whatnot. Anyway, its discontinued. You can only get vintage ones on ebay for around $20 per pencil. On the grand scheme of life, $20 will not make or break anyone. For a writing device that can be bought for a few cents, maybe its excessive, but I’m thinking of investing. I mean, we music gear heads think nothing of spending upwards of $1000 on a guitar, keyboard, drum, melodica….so why not 20 for the most badass pencil ever? If I buy it, I’m going to do a blindfold test against a standard yellow #2, and if there is no difference, someone or something will be stabbed with it. Lets examine the possibilities:

“Hey, whats going on?”
“Nothing much, just taking some notes/doing some calculations/sketching mindblowing interpretations of insects and reptiles”
“Sounds kind of boring, is there anything that would distinguish this activity from your normal routine? I mean the question I’m trying to ask is , why is this night different from all other nights?”
“Why yes, you see,I’m using and Eberhard Faber Blackwing 602″
“Is that like a Blackberry?”
“Its a pencil, i got it for 20$ off of ebay”
“Oh, um, ok. I’ll see you later, I have to go watch Laguna Beach”
“You’re a spoiled bitch and have never done anything for yourself in your entire life”

I have been doing some Board Op shifts at the Jazz station recently, Its not a bad gig, only a few hours a week, but I get to talk on air for about 30 sec. So I come in and I’m talking with the Operations Director and he says “So, you are living in Brooklyn? You have a band? You work at a radio station and a studio?” I answer yes to all of these. he says “You’re a hipster!” It was the first time in my life I have been called a hipster, which I most certainly am not, but I could not stop laughing. It did in fact make my day.

The heat finally broke today. Yet there is an impending rain explosion, the sky just looks angry, at least its not a sweltering jungle out there anymore- I don’t have my machete anymore

I made up for my lack of food with a falafel for lunch today, followed by a post dinner piece of pizza, with a chicken sandwich somewhere in there. Come to think of it, I ate some cheerios this morning, then peroggis when I came home. I ate up a storm. BOO YA. I went to the gym, its ok.

My internet was down at the apt for a while, which is kind of like not having a cell phone, which happened last week. I think it was a sign telling me to do something that does not involve the internet. So, I began the process of learning my recently acquired DRUMKAT midi controller. I had it controlling Reason, using samples I made of my ride cymbal, brought way down to sound like bells, on top of some weird melodic things….. oh man, i need to calm down.

I got something on ebay today, Ebay rules. I’m going to Chinatown Wednesday with my sister to find some sunglasses and knockoff jewlery, maybe there will be some lo mein involved??? eh?? eh??.

I think the end of summer is a transitional period for most people. When you’re little, the impending return to school and the new class is intimidating, yet exciting. As the years go on, and you reach high school, the school year is just annoying- you want to continue slacking. College, every year is one step closer to real life, a whole different type of intimidating. Once youre out of school, what happens? Yes, it is a scary thought. Does it just get colder and thats it? No witty comment, its an actual question.

After the seriousness, here is something else.
I bought a large snapple because in the heatwave we are experiencing in the NY area, Dehydration has become a serious issue. I brought the beverage back to the apartment and put it in the freezer as I often do to speed up the cooling process. I remembered this about 2 hrs ago, and I now have a frozen snapple.

I have been feeling weird lately. Not totally sure what it is. Maybe I haven’t eaten enough falafel? Perhaps I need to find a new cuisine to fill the void. I considered the switch to schwarma, but I just can’t do it. It could all come back to the universal dispalcement theory, when one part of your life is extremely happy and fulfilling, the others dont know what to do, and must compensate in the opposite direction.

Back to the real subject, food. I cooked some peroggis this weekend, an ethnic food of my neighborhood. delecious. I discovered a new supermarket in Williamsburg, where the entire section for milk meat and dairy is a giant refridgerator. Now, let us consider this. Its about 200-205 degrees outside. You wander into a supermarket in search of delicious cuisine, not expecting relief from the heat. Then, out of nowhere, BOOM, freezing temperatures. Your entire frame might shatter instantly, but its worth it. it was here that I bought the peroggis. I also obtained some dried peaches, which are quite badass.

Blog- a term that confuses and intrigues me. For a long time, I looked down upon the medium, mainly because of those livejournal type kids whose every post consisted of “Nobody understands me” Well, no one understands you homey, deal with it. If they understood you, you wouldnt feel original anymore, and you would have to find a new problem.
But in recent weeks, I have found a new source of enjoyment though the blog-o-nation. Some are outright Hilarious, like that of Jason Mulgrew, or myself and Eric Tarn’s favorite anonymous blogger- Clublife. The blog is not my personal life journal, but occasionally I do include personal life related thoughts. My fear is that these may get me in trouble occasionally, maybe they have??? The question is, is there a line not to be crossed? for instance, if i were to say; ”

“You know, when a certain friend of mine wears a red shirt, i can’t wear it, and that just makes me want to go out and kill. I think I will create a scheme to burn a hole in it while on a camping trip and no one will be the wiser”

Now, obviously, that isnt true. The hole was possibly a result of a vodka induced fire, and I am have a plethora of different colored shirts other than red to wear. But, is this information off the record? Like if someone were to read the personal diary of another, they couldnt say something because then it is revealed that they…blah blah. You feel me G? whuteva, I’m out.