Monday, November 4, 2024

All-In

Human beings are social animals, and for tens of thousands of years, cooperation has been the key to our survival. When we work together toward a common good, we are all better off (including you). 
 
These songs are rooted in a fundamental belief in the intrinsic benevolence of humanity and our collective will to overcome obstacles and obstinance:

 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Civilization is built upon the idea that together, we are more than the sum of our parts. Optimism fuels progress, which is how we build a better future. 

Don't let cynicism and hatred destroy us. Resist fascism.


Sunday, October 20, 2024

Sunday Best

I just played another set at the Buzzard's Roost. If you were there, thank you. I hope that you enjoyed the music. If you dug my songs and want to know what they were, my setlist went something like this:
 
1. Fireflies
2. Dandelion Wine (If Only...)
3. Baby Blue
4. Don't Forget Who You Are
5. Life Preserver
6. Be Civilized 
7. Antidote
8. Haunted
9. Gravel Roads
10. Mixtape
11. Signs
12. Go It Alone
13. Turn the Page
14. Particle
15. Quicksand
16. Imperfect Creatures
17. Goodbye
18. Screen Memories
19. The Fool
20.  Begin
21. The Limits of Man

Thank you for supporting local, original, independent music. 
 

Saturday, August 17, 2024

Inside Music

There are certain songs that I have never performed live. This is because whenever I play a gig, it is always on guitar, despite there being plenty of other songs that I have written that were built around other instruments. I quite like these songs, even though very few people have ever heard them. That in mind, I thought that I would share a handful of them with you here today.
 
The first is called Petals in the Grass. I have never gigged with my baritone, and in my semi-professional opinion, this song doesn't really work without that low-end thump. I also kind of dig the vocal harmonies, which I have thus far been ill-equipped to reproduce live, as sadly, I was born with only one larynx.

Holiday is a good piano song. I have also never brought a keyboard to a performance space, although I have imposed my performances upon pianos in public spaces. But pretty much only my neighbors, friends and family members have heard this song.

Black Ribbon Day was written on my banjo, which seldom leaves the dining room and has never been used on stage, despite it being a very enjoyable instrument to play.

Most of my gigs are in bars. I have never played Wasted before a live audience, as it seems an inappropriate place to sing about poisoning oneself. It has one of my favorite endings to a song and album. I like to think of it like musical fireworks.

As for the last track that I would like to recommend for today, I have played it exactly once. Of my sixty-five released songs, it is my only instrumental track. It is called Shadow Puppets. I put it at the beginning of the album as a nod to the first Pixies album that I ever got into. I leave it to you to find your own words in the improvised, ebow-riddled composition. I did, and the "ghost lyrics" that I perceived inspired the song's title.

Thank you for listening. Music is meant to be heard. If you like my songs, like my songs. If you really like them, then I encourage you to share my music, if only to prove to your friends once and for all how fucking cool you are.




Thursday, June 20, 2024

Meet Frank

I recently went back to Michigan for a bit. While there, my brother gave me this guitar:
 
I love it. I didn't even know that I needed a new guitar, but this thing is great. From what I can tell, it seems to be pieced together from several other guitars and aftermarket parts. It's what you call a Frankenstein guitar, and it's even the right color for it. 
 
I have yet to figure out what all of the switches do, and I suspect that they are not wired per stock configuration, but I've always wanted a guitar with this many options. It's also nice not having a toggle switch to accidentally hit while strumming. If there is one thing that I dislike about my "modern" Squier Jazzmaster, that would be it. 
 
On the headstock, this one says that it is a Fender Jaguar, but I'm pretty sure that those are decals that someone put on there after bringing it back from the dead with a new neck, hardware and electronics. There is also a spot on the bottom where the paint doesn't quite match, which further suggests previous trauma of some kind. I think Jags usually have short-scale necks, too, and this one is full-size, which I also happen to like.
 
The tones are incredibly clear and glassy, perfect for the kind of stuff that I play. It also stays in tune remarkably well. I expect that this instrument will play a significant role in my next recording venture, as well as in any upcoming performances. 
 
Thanks again, Nick. This thing rocks.

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

Ad Infinitum

Part of being a musician is that I have to practice. I believe that if there is anything that you wish to be good at, the key is to do it frequently and with purpose. Whatever it is, with time and dedication, you will almost certainly improve. 
 
When it comes to my own routine of playing music, that means practicing every day whenever possible, whether I feel like it or not, while accepting the risk that I might annoy the people around me. As any parent whose kid was ever given a recorder could tell you, this is an unfortunate but often necessary byproduct of musicianship. At some point or another, you will probably piss somebody off. Not everyone will love you. This is music and this is life. Press forward. Do what you have to do.
 
I first picked up a guitar when I was sixteen years old. It stayed in the case for most of the next year, until I made a conscious choice to start practicing regularly. I never took lessons, but I had a good friend who was also trying to play, so we were able to learn a bit from each other. We challenged one another and ourselves to get better. I like to imagine that even Jimi Hendrix sounded like shit the first time he picked up a guitar. There was a time when he jammed with people who were much better than him. It's just how these things go. Skill is something you learn.

The first year or two of playing guitar were by far the hardest, but I am thankful that I did not quit. It could have been really easy to be discouraged. I started on electric guitar, and I still generally prefer it over acoustic. My first amp was a little 15-watt solid state Fender the size of a lunchbox. Once I was able to save up some money, I bought a Peavey combo amp that felt like it was made out of concrete. That thing was absurdly heavy and crazy loud, even with the volume on 3 or 4. I still wasn't very good, but I grew to really enjoy making noise. I was punk rock, minus the fashion statement.
 
My parents made me practice in the upstairs of the garage, which was separate from the house. Another friend of mine put a cobbled together drum kit up there -- amidst the sawdust, corncobs and mouse turds -- and we played a lot of shitty songs composed entirely of power chords. 
 
Then I moved off to college, where I sometimes set up my amp in the community room of the dorm where I lived. It was a good way to draw out the other introverted musicians, plus I really liked the acoustics in there. Other people were probably less thrilled about it, especially if they were trying to study while I noodled my way through some pentatonic scales and simple chord progressions.
 
Over the years, I have subjected many family members, friends and unsuspecting strangers to my unpolished musical meanderings. For a while, I was pretty terrible. So it goes. With practice, I steadily improved. I'm still no Jimi Hendrix, mind you, but I have gotten better. 
 
Meanwhile, anyone within earshot has had to hear me work out songs while I figured out how to play guitar and other instruments. I even owned an accordion for a while. It has been a long process for me to get to where I am today, which has not only required my own patience, but that of the people around me as well. For that, I am thankful.
 
Even now, songs seldom emerge from my head even close to fully formed. As such, there is a lot of figuring out the chord progressions, vocal melodies and lyrics as I go, which of course is far less pleasant to listen to than a fully written song that I have already rehearsed countless times. 
 
While my music might not be everybody's cup of tea, I am happy to report that I am no longer terrible. Not to me, anyway. Nonetheless, I'd like to offer a sincere apology and a wholehearted thank you to everyone who has put up with my daily compulsion to practice over the years. That includes my family, friends, neighbors, and random passersby. Some of you probably know these songs almost as well as I do. Some of you even heard them when they still weren't fully formed. 
 
For the many wonderful years that my two kids and I lived under the same roof, I sought to instill in them this idea that practice is part of being a musician, to normalize my routine in their eyes, so that they might apply this same level of dedication to their own passions, whatever they may be. At the same time, I recognize that they may very well have gotten tired of hearing me run through the same songs day after day, as likely did anyone else who ever had to live with me. Sorry about that. I hope you understand. I guess that makes us more or less even for the recorders.

A musician has to practice. To anyone who needs to hear it, thank you for putting up with me. As for everybody else, if you have a friend, family member or neighbor who is learning an instrument and/or writing songs, I hope that you will afford them the same degree of freedom to be terrible, at least for a while. Practice is the only way that we get better.