So Me and T Bone were at this Anime convention in Western Mississippi one fine fall evening. We were there tracking a rare issue of Sports Illustrated containing an interview with former Governor Christie Whitman about the state of crocheting among over privileged youth in New Jersey. We searched through crate upon crate of periodicals, when finally, it dawned on me. The secret to time travel is contained in a vault, deep within the bowels of the Manichevits Factory in Jersey city, to which the combination is “36-24-36″ How could I have missed it! It all seems so obvious now!”

Thats just a little taste. For the real thing, you’ll have to wait until December 2016. My ghost writer is Todd Palin.

I’ve been testing out rock and roll dance moves on the street, I’m becoming more and more comfortable with it. I see this as a positive thing. Were a passer-by to see me, they might think I had some problems. They don’t know the half of it.

Music has been abundant as usual, The Hold Steady, David Byrne, Elvis Costello…too much to mention. I will say I walked out of a Nouvelle Vague show, once you follow those previous three…you certainly have your work cut out for you, and hold their own, they did not.

Once you get over food poisoning, you view food differently. Once my great love, is now my cautionary acquaintance, i’m still a little worried, and can not just throw caution to the wind. At least for a few more minutes.

I’ve fallen off the wagon, and gone back to abusing shuffle mode on my ipod. I feel like whenever I am in a music writing stage, this happens. I’m open to suggestions why, I still don’t understand it, and I dont know if I like it.

Somebody get me a singing voice, please.

I want to hire a bunch of musicians to play incredibly distorted, while I sing selections from Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind, with lots of delay on the vocals. The songs seem like only 2 chords, but I’m sure its much more complex. Thats the Catch 22. Simple songs only reach their full potential when Daniel Lanois is producing, Dylan is writing, and Brian Blade and Jim Keltner are on drums. Fuck you guys, I’m going with Garageband.

Jay Bennett passed away this weekend. No one knows the exact details, so lets not speculate. He was only 45, and it’s incredibly sad. Bennett himself once said that all future articles written about him will include mention of Wilco, and this is certainly true. I can imagine no worse fate for a musician than to be so involved with the creation of an album, from the sounds to the songwriting, be fired once said album is completed, only to have said album skyrocket your former band to legendary status. On top of that, the deterioration of your relationship with the band is caught on film, which every once and future fan of this band will see. He caught a tough break.

I think every fan of Wilco’s music secretly hoped Bennett would emerge successful after the post Yankee Hotel split. This conclusion would have been fairly logical. He seemed to be a talented producer, and was completely crazy, as nearly all talented producers must be. Its like rule #1 in the handbook. There was a fantastic Tape Op interview with him shortly after, which detailed his gear and personal studio. I would have loved to have recorded there at some point. At my first wilco show, I remember thinking “where’s the guy with the dreadlocks?” At least through all the drama, people recognize first and foremost that he was a true musician.

In other positive news, I think I saw the finest sit-in ever to occur in New York, at least within my experience. I went to my favorite living jazz venue, The Village Vanguard, to see Allen Toussaint’s band last week. Allen is a serious New Orleans legend, with a band that would impress anyone on their own. Jay Bellerose was on drums – one of my favorite drummers who I recently saw with Ray Lamontagne, and Marc Ribot on guitar- probably best known for his work on most of Tom Waits’ catalog. That “Jockey Full Of Bourbon” solo? Yeah, that’s him. This band would clearly not be messing around. Earlier in the week WBGO broadcast the wednesday night set, which was excellent.

It was not like my last vanguard experience, possibly because it was the early set. No loud tourists, very orderly line outside, a very respectable crowd. I sat at the first table off the stage, the perfect spot for an obsessive such as myself, with direct sight lines to both Ribot and Bellerose. Toussaint was dressed in a beige pinstriped suit, with matching paisely shirt and tie. There was no dilly dallying happening tonight, the band got straight to it. Very little downtime in between songs, no messing around. The set was filled with ghostly New Orleans traditionals, heavy on the clarinet and trumpet solos. No electric instruments at all, Ribot on a big 30’s Gibson acoustic. These are my favorite type of shows- I’d like to think that this is what jazz sounded like in its earliest days. Everyone on stage at the top of their game.

Early on, Joe Henry emerged right next to me from the crowd to do some vocals on “St James Infirmary” Sounding exactly like he does on record, which should not be surprising…but happens less and less these days. He wore a badass jacket, that looked like it could have been made into some new age furniture or something. During the instrumental breaks, he kneels down and bangs on our table keeping time. So already, we’re doing pretty well for a weeknight show. Soon after, the band leaves the stage, Allen does a solo piece, then says
“So a lot of you might already know this, but a special friend of mine is in the house tonight. No, its not Michael Jackson. Please welcome mister Elvis Costello”

Well, at this point I pretty much lost it. There is no more badass crooner than Elvis. He seems to be everywhere lately. On TV with his own show, on the Jenny Lewis album, making string band records…I’m pretty sure I’ll go to get my hair cut and Elvis is going to be the barber. So like a nuclear explosion of awesome, he runs through the crowd and grabs the mic. Does not say a word. Black leather jacket, sparkly black tie, mustache, shiny blue sneakers. The just go right into it. He’s singing directly to our table, I can barely hold it together. They were doing the ballad “Nearer To You” off their duet album a few years back, its intense. Toussaint jumps in on a few backing vocals, but Elvis is soaring on these high notes, playing it up to the crowd, this guy is a fucking showman. Pretty much before I can get a handle on the fact that Elvis Costello is singing 3 feet from me at The Village Vanguard…he’s gone. I think I shook his hand on the way out, he was just too cool. The rest of the show is a blur of fantasticness, I do remember one unstoppable Ribot solo, which ended in a little piano/guitar duet, going very far out there, Toussaint plucking the piano strings, Ribot detuning, and both of them laughing as it finished. Everyone was happy.

Never a bad evening at the Vanguard. On the way there, I passed Pete from 30 rock on the street, thinking nothing of it. After the show, we went to a bar for a celebratory beverage, and from a table behind me I hear “Tracy, tracy! Calm down man” and I think…that sounds like Judah Friedlander…..yeah, it was. Yelling at Tracy Morgan. Who then left the bar in a huff, and got into his yellow lamborghini sitting out front. I think my head officially exploded at this point. If Baldwin had walked in, I’m sure I would have been hit by a bus on my way home.

So, food is the last item on the menu. There was a memorial day BBQ this weekend, as often happens this time of year. I brought some steak, others brought sausage, others brought ribs. These ribs were being sauced for the grill, and looked delicious. Someone put them on a chair, in order to prepare for saucing. Yet another guest brought a dog to the party. Take a guess where it went from there.

First of all, I cannot be mad at this dog. He basically took what I wanted to do, and did it. But on 2nd thought, who brings a giant ass dog to a party? It was a nice enough dog, not barking, being friendly to everyone, but still, it was quite large in a small backyard and shed all over everyone. The saddest part is, the ribs were thrown out afterwards. The owner wouldn’t even let him keep his prize. Sorry to end on such a down note. But these things happen, sometimes, a dog eats your ribs.

“katrice barnes plays on it, do you know her? she wrote Dick In A Box for Justin Timberlake”

yeah, i dont need to say any more than that.

Such a confusing and heartbreaking tune.  A timeless one for the ages.  But I just realized, when things start getting weird, for the last few years I’ve said “well, fuck it, I’m going to Mexico.”  And now with this frikkin swine flu, its just not in the cards.  I need a new last resort getaway location, and an amazing cowboy ballad to go with it.  Can someone write me a song about Cuba?  Perhaps Macchu Piccu?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UoFOYzlMdXs

Once when I was 4 years old, to visit my friend’s 102 year old great grandfather.  I have a surreal memory of sitting on the beach listening to him say “i’m one hunnnndred!  and two!!”

Once nearly 20 years later, for the Siren fest, I got as sunburnt as a marshmallow in a campfire, it was a good experience though.

Once to ride the cyclone and see the freak show

Once to see Phish on their final tour pre hiatus.  This was the most damaging of all.

The show was terrible (i guess thats what smack does to a band….trey….asshole) and the venue just didnt suit it.  It rained all day, and to be followed by a mediocre show, was just hurtful.  I didn’t want to go back to this mythical island after that.  Its pretty hard to get out there, so it better be for a good purpose.  If you go too often, you’d probably see it for the rapidly crumbling wasteland it is, and now that all of the rides and games are gone, its probably depressing as shit.  But one event will draw me out there again…

Initially the Wilco East Coast Summer Dates were unimpressive.  Sure, they had the Keyspan park date, but i almost considered not going after the Phish Fiasco several years back.  I dont want to see this band in a stadium, I’d much rather go to a nice indoor theater with some good sound.  For me to skip this band, it takes a lot.  And that bitch of a train ride, combined with the thousands upon thousands of hipster frat dudes, with possibly crippling heat might be the magic key to making me miss my first local show.

That is…until I realized the location.  Keyspan Park is on Surf Ave, right off the water, 1 block off of…Mermaid Avenue.  The actual Mermaid Avenue.  So, its some serious business.  Here is the story:

They did an album called Mermaid Avenue.  It was a collection of songs, using lyrics written by Woody Guthrie, which were never set to music.  Guthrie wrote furiously, all the time. it was said that if he stayed at your house, he would tear the bedsheets into paper sized rectangles so he could write songs on them.  These archives were kept at his house on Coney Island, when it used to be a big ass swamp.  Bob Dylan wrote about this in his fantastic autobiography “Chronicles”.   He used to visit Woody in a NJ hospital, and was told there were boxes of unread lyrics and poems, so he made the trip out (he even mentions the terrible train ride in the book.)  He trudges through the swamp, in mud up to his knees, nearly freezing to death.  When he gets there, a young Arlo Guthrie answers the door, invited the young dylan in, but says he doesnt know anything about the boxes.  So, Dylan goes back home, and these lyrics sat unread for nearly 40 years, until they ended up in the hands of Wilco.   He even said “i’ll bet wilco wasn’t even born yet when this event took place”

So now, i’d like to think that this has all come full circle.  The boys are returning to the homeland, and I’m incredibly psyched all of a sudden.  I’m gonna eat some kick ass hot dogs, maybe get a knish, take the day off work, and head out to the island early, maybe do a little loitering.  I know i’ve already built this show up too high, but if there’s anyone that can deliver, its Jeff and The Dudes.

So, I moved to the Downtown yuppie filled paradise of “historic rennovated tax incentives” or whateverthefuck you want to call it. Life is supposed to be all moms with strollers down here.  You see dudes walking around with tiny dogs and fashionable glasses, and hear them talking about their real estate portfolio.  But, all this is merely a front.  A front for rampant crime, extreme danger, and possibly terrorism.   Terrorism towards 2007 Honda Fits.

These Terrorists do not seek to steal our belongings, the hundreds of priceless burnt CD’s scattered about the passenger seat.  They do not seek to pilfer the dozens of empty water bottles, gym clothes, gum wrappers and toll receipts.  No.  They simply want to punish us for our extravagant way of life.  And maybe, they really wanted the 35 Cents from the change tray.  And punish they did.  These Hoodlums, nay…TERRORISTS!  could not stand the sight..no…the display of arrogance and wealth that is a 2007 Honda Fit!

I mean really, at least take something just for the hell of it.  Open the glove compartment, do something.  Its a fucking hatchback dude, you can see theres nothing in it.

As I was sweeping out the broken glass, my neighbor was outside playing with his kids, and gave me the rundown on the hood.  He said “there are groups of drunk black kids that come through here very late, scratching up cars and throwing things, it was probably them”  Well, I dont want to be a racist, so lets just say it was a group of drunk kids.  Shit man, come on.

Anyway, whereas my old school pontiac was a cheap generic window…honda uses some fancy new shit, so this window is incredibly expensive.  I’m hoping they can put some special sauce on it, like one of those computer screens from the Tom Cruise movie where they track criminals and whatnot.

Come on JC, i’ve been a loyal supporter of yours for years, I guess we’re just going through a rough patch.

The Faces.  Wtf man, why are they so great?  Thats rhetorical, but you get what I’m saying.  There are times when I feel a little silly rocking out to Rod Stewart, but then again, its not solo Rod Stewart, so its pretty much ok.  “If You Think I’m Sexy” does in fact have its time and place though.  I recently got the “five guys walk into a bar” box set, the complete work of The Faces.  Its just so raw, its genius.  You can hear exactly where The Black Crowes got it from, even some Wilco shows a lot of faces.  But really, it all belongs to Ron Wood.  Before he was the laughing stock of The Stones, he was a serious guitar player.  Since it was only him on the Axe, there is no question of who played what.  Lots of open G Tunings, lots of Slide, lots of awesomeness.  The unexpected winner of the entire box, songwise, is their live in studio cover of “Jealous Guy, made famous by some dude named John Lennon. Its about 6 minutes long, and starts with a band argument, screaming, cursing, mumbling, into a beautiful ballad.  There is nothing better.

OK, enough of that, on we go.

Last week was a good week for live music.  So many great bands were in town, covering many venues and genres.  But for me, there was no other choice.  It was the downtown tour of Medeski Martin Wood.  The band played 3 nights and did a workshop at 3 different small downtown clubs in Manhattan.  Since the loss of Tonic a few years back, there hasn’t really been a small club to host these guys, and that is quite a shame.  Seeing them at The Hammerstein or even Bowery Ballroom is fantastic, but it cant match the feeling of a boxy little room that holds 100 people.  Oddly Enough, within the last year 3 new venues have opened downtown- Le Poisson Rouge in the West Village, the 92Y Tribecca in…tribecca, and the City Winery, which i think is booked by the dude who started The Knitting Factory, hence the connection to MMW.

The greatest show I had ever seen these guys do was at Tonic several years back when the venue was in danger of closing, and the bathrooms were a porta-jon in the lobby.  The venue was literally the definition of A Hole In The Wall, it was perfect.  I was eager for something to replicate that experience…which may have been a mistake.

The week started off at the 92Y, with an all acoustic set.  Possibly one of the greatest single musical moments I have ever witnessed in my life was MMW playing a Brazilian tune at an acoustic set at the Society For Ethical Culture, just piano, upright bass, and Pandiero (brazilian tambourine) not even a drum kit.  The entire place fell silent, you could have heard a pin drop, it was quite impressive.  Sadly, this night was not to be replicated either.  The music was strong, but not over the top.  The douches next to me in the 2nd row would not shut up.  Billy Martin did several great solos, and I enjoyed the night, I just wasn’t blown away.

So, expectations were not high for the 2nd night at LPR, a low ceiling club in the basement of what used to be The Village Gate.  This was an electric set, so a completely different direction. The Electric MMW is like no other band, Medeski carts around all analog keyboards…come to think of i it was beyond analog into Electromechanical (my friend Bud clued me into this)  the only synth he had was a Melotron, which plays actual physical tape loops.  Also a Wurlitzer, Clavinet, b3, and grand piano. So i parked in a spot close to the stage, and hoped for the best.

Well, the band came out swinging.  I didn’t know a single song they played, but it was phenomenal.  The band was performing their best telepathic exercises.  Occasionally throwing hand signals to switch it up.  Medeski and Wood picking up cowbells to augment the percussion section.  Martin going completely apeshit on drum solos.  I’m going to say the night belonged to Wood, who just had some other worldly type of grooves going on.  His upright playing was so incredibly impressive, his electric was like a foundation for the sturdiest building ever, forged out of solid awesomeness.  Medeski flew around the keys like a fucking banshee posessed, at one point even coaxing feedback from the pickup on his Melodica, martin giving him a little head nod, to keep it going, as the rhythm section started the next song.  I heard rumors that these are new tunes for their next album, and I hope this is the case.  It just proves that when expectations are low, the greatest things happen.  It turns out The Village Gate was the first venue MMW ever played together, so maybe there were some historic vibes egging them on.

I left feeling good, optimistic about the 3rd night.  Before the show at the City Winery, they held a masterclass, playing a bit, talking about their interplay and theory, discussing instruments, it was a good time. The main thing i took away from it was, John Medeski is a fucking monster, who is aware of every note he plays.  Hes not just some savant who can tear up this amazing shit out of nowhere, he’s right on top of all the harmonic theory, anticipating the next note at all times.  They also discussed how they all love distortion, and try to distort their acoustic instruments, by using different kinds of strings, extra metal attached to percussion, all sorts of stuff.

The city winery show was entertaining, with some Ray Charles covers and stuff like that, but it couldnt hold a candle to the previous night.  Cyro Baptista sat in for the whole show, which was great and entertaining at times. but at others, it seemed a little excessive.  That guy is completely crazy, in a good way.   The venue was a complete clusterfuck.  Its a great looking space, with a great selection of beverages, but they had clearly never anticaped or experienced a crowd as big as the one that showed up.  They tried to make people who weren’t ordering dinner wait to be seated, which was completely impractical due to space, then when that failed, they attempted to have a hostess seat everyone (think of an empty resturant with 100 tabels.  Enough people  to occupy all of those tables plus the entire bar show up at once, and have 2 people to seat them.  Its just not gonna work homes, get on with it.

Here are a few pictures from Night 2

I wish i were kidding.

I came up with a wonderful wiring scheme to be able to patch in external gear…like a real studio does!  And in his fucking moving everything 500 times, the wiring has come undone.  It now sits behind a several hundred pound rack.  I dont give a fuck how scratched the floor gets when i have to pull this rack out, because that bitch is going to get scratched.  Like a goddamn cat.  or a fork.  perhaps I’ll just use a fork anyway

“hey steve, whats that fork for?”

“oh, you know, scratching your new floooooo…..i mean tuning,  this is a tuning fork.  its one of those new pointy ones”

problem solved.

Also, he installed new Bass Traps, which redirect bass frequencies that usually hide in the corners of rooms back to the correct spots in the center.  Well, it turns out, they also direct them towards anything that will resonate.  Such as a cheap ass hollow door.  Such as the cheap ass hollow door on the outside of the studio i work in.  It sounds like one of those shitty hondas with the 4,000$ rims on it is driving next to me at all times.  This thing vibrates non stop.  I’m considering taking a shit in the piano and leaving it there, just to see if that solves this problem,  I’m thinking it will.

Onto brighter news.  My uncle, who does not really play much, owns a 1930’s D’Angelico archtop guitar, which was his father’s.  Its a very serious instrument, worth more than a Honda.  I believe around 1500 were ever made, completely by hand in NY.  It puts modern craftsmen to shame.  The detail and character of this thing is exquisite.  The problem is, no one plays it.  It sits in a case.  As you could imagine, this is a terrible crime.  Its original pickguard disintegrated long ago (it was made from celluloid, the same thing as film stock), so they needed to have a new one made about 10 or 13 years ago.  They lent it to my dad, who brought me along to Mandolin Brothers on Staten island, the premiere facility for archtop repair, to have a new one made.  From what I remember, the guitar sounded great.  It projected, had a very even tone, and looked badass.

Well, as time has gone by, and the guitar has sat in the case lo these many years, the pick guard replacement has warped.  It now looks kind of like a boomerang.  This is what happens when you dont take instruments out of their cases for years, strange things happen.  Poor humudity conditions caused it to dry out, so the action is all screwey, and it needs some attention.  This is the good part.  They’ve lent me the guitar to bring back to staten islend to get re-repaired, and keep for an extended period, so it gets some playing time.  here are some photos (In new gallery formation thanks to web master TB!!) :

Well, so I brought it to Staten Island, to the mando-hut, which is really the best reason to go to staten island, to get it looked at.  First off, if there were no Guidos there, Staten Island would be a wonderful place.  Every person there, from the toll booth operator (ON THE 8$   BAYONNE BRIDGE!) to the dudes at the store were fantastic.  Leroy, the master craftsman, told me everything hes going to do to make it a flawless instrument again, as well as some history of the axe (it was made in a rare art deco style with special inlays and bridge!) They also have the most unpretentious store ever.  It contains some of the most rare acoustic instruments ever, and they pretty much let you play anything, they just say, pick it up!  So while they did their thing, i played some serious gibsons, a few martins, a very nice larrive parlor guitar, some collings, all sorts of wonderful stuff.  So, the conclusion they came to, is that it will take a few weeks to get the guitar t playable conditions, then another month for the pickguard.  They’ll return it to me before the pickguard work,  so I’ll get some playing time in.

My goal as a result, is to make an old timey EP with this thing before I have to give it back.  Maybe i’ll even book a studio for a day and do it on tape! (i just came up with this idea, but I like it!)  OK, thats the plan, time to work.

I recently took my first trip to las vegas. You don’t need to know stories about gambling or casinos or debauchery. What you need to know is this:

This is a true fantasy picture, as you can see the fake New York in the background. Notice both arrows pointing to the restaurant itself, indicating “This Is The Place, Homes”

Oh, what a burger it is. It was absolutely delicious

Apparently, some other people had the same idea we did. This place was packed. The cab driver knew exactly where it was. An old school vegas lady, bleached hair, looked about 200 years old, big sunglasses, she said “when we have the world poker tour preliminaries, people from all over the world as me to drive them to In N Out Burger”

On we go.

These are some of my pedals, arranged in a messy and unorganized manner, running on battery power, on the floor, free to move around

I’m sorry about using a flash, it was in a rehearsal space with terrible lighting. A pedaltrain pedalboard bought off of the CL, voodoo labs pedal power supply eliminating all batteries (except the MXR original 70’s block logo phaser!) and everything velcroed down for maximum efficiency. The holy grail is still giving me trouble because of the weird ass power adapter EHX uses, but it will be figured out. Holla.

On We Go.

In an amazing last minute ticket phenomenon, I was able to secure admission to Andrew Bird’s show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, before his next night at Carniege Hall. Notice the giant gramaphone speakers, he uses no cabs with his amp. The heads are made by my homey Tim Schroeder in chicago, who also makes amps for Nels and Jeff of Wilco. Bird uses the line 6 dl4 and creates some ridiculous loops on stage with a full band, its like a wonderful manipulated orchestra.

The double headed horn behind him is basically a leslie speaker- the 2 horns spin around at incredible speed, creating a badass doppler effect. The new album he just put out is very serious, some great songs. He basically played it in its entirety, with a few other jams thrown in. Serious Business.