Tales from the Jam Room
 

TALES... FROM... The Jam Room...

So, after about 3 years of posting, disappearing, re-posting, going on hiatus, and then coming back again I've decided to start one of these journal things. I've participated on music forums for a good decade at this point and this is the only one still kicking with solid traffic and a place specifically for this type of thing. Unlike the album review journals that seem rather popular in this subforum this one is going to be a bit more personal, though not as personal as Above's Live Transmission (wow courage). No, mine is far more egocentric and whiny, rife with daddy issues, first world problems and the kind of manic depression I only wish I could caress, and kiss, and kiss...

The bulk of this journal is going to be about my experiences as an artistic musician. I feel the need to make a distinction between an artistic musician and a commercial one not necessarily for pretentious reasons (but still super pretentious) but also because I feel a strong difference between Song and Music. Simply put an artistic musician is more concerned with the immediate expression of the self through sound thereby being more focused on Music, whereas a commercial musician ends up more focused on the Song side of the spectrum due to their need to make a living with their craft. It IS possible to balance both aspects but generally speaking most people tend to lean a bit more on the Song side of the fence - whether or not they want to own up to the commercial angle I see it as is a whole other can of worms.

First some background, I'm yet another one of those people who'll claim they've been a musician forever and that's its an intrinsic part of their being. Fact is, I AM and it IS. My father peaked (for lack of a better term) as a one hit wonder in 1970 - I've been rocking out since I was monocellular! (As flippant and lighthearted as that might sounds it's still quite unnerving to admit).

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He's holding me to the keys, not because I can't reach, but because I don't know how to stand yet. I was ready for the clubs not long after that.

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So that's where it started. I saw my path, started laying down my building blocks of personal development and started growing into a big boy. Then the awesomeness of the so-called Rock and Roll lifestyle that got celebrated so much by so many (so long as it's not happening to them) reared its head. My initial collection of blocks got crushed by an issue so large and so lame no one wanted to address it directly. I become a very sullen and introverted boy. Another 10 years later I finally hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers for the first time and a lightning bolt was shot through my teenaged skull and the desire to rock out returned. A year later I scored my first guitar. A few years after that I took off for college, and met my first real musical peers and the ones who'd further refine my perspective on what being a musician was and my first 'real' jam room. After college there were the basement jams and the summer of gigs; the move to the warehouse; the first big hiatus; the return to the warehouse; and finally, the flood. And now as of this past week, I'm entering into a new phase, a change in my living arrangement is requiring a change in my employment arrangement which will require a change to pretty much everything.

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I'll be expanding most of those statements into full entries eventually (though not necessarily chronologically). If anyone wants to read about something specific sooner than later just ask. The other thing I wanted to add in my journal was personal deconstructions of various pieces of music that I feel are either pertinent to the journal entry or something I think should be more widely recognized.

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As if I'm not going to spotlight my old man's single for this first one.



Mashmakhan - As The Years Go By.


First a bit about the band. Allmusic and Wikipedia both claim the name of the band is derived from illicit drugs or hashish. I don't doubt that my old man experimented back in the day. I've heard people call hash - cheese, wax, bull, black, brown but never mash, or mashmakhan - I don't buy it. For whatever reason drug use is an issue my father and I have never bridged, I'm positive he's tried in the past, he's seen my pipe, but we've both taken the cowards way out :( Personally I think the band name is a play on words of a Quebecois' expression relating to hash smoking - Mash My Can (and turn it into a hash pipe).

My father cut his teeth playing saxophone for various soul / r&b bands around the Montreal area starting in the late 50s. The only name I know from those earliest days is Sammy Ambrose and stories of a small tour in New York state - $2 steaks in restaurants, a hotel that was 'closed' for the season but let them stay and subsequently flood, and being the only white face in the Apollo theater to see the one and only Ray Charles. By the end of the 60s my old man was still in Montreal and gigging with old friends and backing up soul singer Trevor Payne (who went on to found a pair of well recognized gospel choirs). Apparently producer Bob Hahn discovered the backing band and convinced the backing band to move to Toronto, sign with a major label, and become one of the first Canadian bands actively pushed towards having commercial success State-side.

Now for the song, it was actually the B-Side to their lead single and album opener Days When We Are Free. There's a 30 second organ solo tacked onto the start of the single that isn't featured on the album to fill it out a bit more or something. I've seen writeups describe their debut album as one of the more accessible prog / fusion albums due to the pop sensibilities throughout. As The Years Go By was actually just a filler track, they never expected it to amount to anything and my father claims that the bulk of the lyrics came to him awhile taking a bath and most of the song was written within the next 15 minutes.

It's a novel little song too. It's easy to write it off as a stupid hippie fluff tune if you only listen to the "And as the years go by... True love will never die" chorus. A little attention to the verses show that the song is in fact exploring the idea that love is an ambiguous feeling that means very different things to everyone throughout the various stages of their lives and within the various relationships they keep. There's at least 1 line within the song that absolutely everyone out there can directly relate to right now, and I think that's why it was a hit despite beginning as a novelty song, despite being a B-side, it rang true to listeners far and wide.

Musically it's rather interesting as well, being a rock tune with a raggae feel at a time when most people were implementing folky / country elements to their rock music. The choice of having the organ take lead while the guitar sits back and either adds subtle embellishments to the lead melody or sticks with dry staccato rhythm to keep the reggae feel also helped the song stand out from the crowd. There's also a pretty groovy bridge that seems like a great launching pad for solos / live jam action but neither of the 2 live versions I've ever heard went that direction (though other live tracks from their show in Japan did).

Thanks to anyone who's read to this point, I'm hoping to update once a month or so. Happy New Year to everyone :pimp:

*edited for typos

As a fan of you, your writing, and what I've heard of your music, I'm really looking forward to this thread Dave! I've been curious if I knew your dad's music or not since the first time you mentioned a long time ago but was reluctant to push you for more info. Turns out it's not something I was familiar with but I dig it and really interesting to hear. I can't wait to read more! :)

This is going to be one of the great journals. What stories! And I love the idea of you sitting at the keyboard as a baby. If only I had started out that young, maybe I'd be able to play something more than just chords with melodies that happen to fit with those chords, but that no-one would seriously recognise as music. And damn my short term memory! Can never remember the chords or notes to any song I learned.

And another thing, I can never remember the chords or notes... :D

And Happy New Year back atcha both!

Trollheart, serviced, revamped and updated for 2012 (but still basically the same *******...) ;)

Thanks for the positive comments :D


*edit* - I'm going to try posting a major entry every other week, at least until I run out of stuff to blab about. Where it's dealing with personal stuff I'd rather write it out first then let it percolate for at least a few days before posting it. Hope no one minds hehe

I'm loving the pictures of you as a baby at the keyboard! The're pretty damn cool! I think I'm going to enjoy this journal a lot! :)

So my dad was a Rockstar(technically)...
 

From what I understand it's not entirely uncommon for children who grow up in broken homes to project fabrications as to why one of their parents left, it's a coping mechanism. In my case it wasn't, it was the truth but it didn't make it any easier, especially not with the lack of details or clarity I needed to wait 25 years for. Everyone has read a story about the debauchery and decadence of the rock and roll lifestyle, the sex, the drugs, the parties, and the fame. Considering the state of the modern entertainment industry I think it's quite safe to say most people have fantasized about that lifestyle as well (and many still do).

Here's the flipside though, when one of your parent's is an entertainer, as a child, you don't recognize it as anything out of the ordinary, it's just what mommy or daddy does for a dollar. In my eyes my father was always just 'Dad', though unlike an average 9-5 guy, when my old man took off for work I wouldn't see him again for 3-4 sometimes 6 weeks. That's a pretty huge amount of time when you're 4. In my childhood mind there wasn't a whole lot of difference between going on tour across 3 provinces and going on tour on the other side of the world.

Then it happened. Three weeks after I turned 5 (early November 1981) he got back from a tour of another province; I remember waking up early with my little sister the next morning, excited that Dad was home again and we snuck to our parent's room. I remember the weird blue of the carpet. I remember him sitting up and starting to cry. My mom got out of bed and said something about him being sick (I found out much later her words were 'He's sick in the head'). He asked for us to comfort him. My little sister did. I stood in the doorway, thinking he'd been sick in the bed, as in he made a poopy in the bed and well... gross man... I wasn't getting near that. Turns out he'd gotten home late the previous evening and confessed to my mom that he'd been sleeping with another woman. Except it wasn't just another woman, it was his youngest brother's girlfriend (if not fiancé) who also happened to be the new singer for the band he'd just setup that summer - with his youngest brother. He was 40, she was 20. That band would go on to persist for longer than my original family.

I've said the phrase 'There's a whole lot more to music than just the sounds you hear' for years now. This is where a lot of it stems from. Modern song, especially on the pop side of the mainstream, was and continues to be used as a tool to manipulate people who worship celebrity, little different than prayer for the devout. It's the kind of social conditioning that's lead my mom to say that in the event that the roles were reversed and she was in a position of fame and glamour with men throwing themselves at her on a regular basis that she would have probably cheated too - WTF!??! I'm still having a hard time with that one but whatever, it made me consider other angles. As a result I don't put all the blame on him, because I'm pretty sure his family is kind of insane and honestly believed that the end result of a bit of public fame would justify any sort of private travesty. When this first went down his mom actually called my mom and convinced her to cover up his crap and get her family to ignore it around us because if my father was forced to take responsibility for his actions in the eyes of his children we wouldn't have a father anymore. Whether that was a warning of possible suicidal depression or a threat to the possibility of fame she figured her family was entitled too, who knows. That family now conveniently skips over the 80s whenever anyone reminisces about the past. My uncle will try talking to me about music on the rare occasions our paths cross; but when I tried bringing up their band from the 80s the last time we talked it was like the decade never even existed (in his defense he used to drink A LOT so maybe he really does have a decade long memory blackout).

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I really don't want to turn this journal into a woe is me pity party, but that event is a HUGE factor in how I've grown to deal with music and life (the 'professional' opinion on the matter at the time was that 4 and 5 year old kids were 'too young' to actually be affected). Yes, I definitely DO recognize that there are plenty of kids who had it worse, for anyone to have ever reminded me of that fact has never helped anything (though it did always make it easier for them to ignore my attempts to talk it out). It's an aspect of my past that I feel I absolutely need to share with anyone who wants to understand me as a musician while feeling equal amounts of shame and guilt for wanting to express it outwardly. A rare few actually get it and fully respect my limits; others were just smart enough to say the things necessary to keep having access to the jam room every week.

On that note...



Dun a nuh nuh Dun a NA nuh Dun a nuh nuh DUN DUN DUN DUN...

COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN!!!!!

Back in September of 1998 I was living in my first dorm room in college. My friends from home had all advised me to absolutely 100% leave my door open at all times unless I was sleeping or out as it's by far the best way to meet people. It's true and I strongly recommend the practice to any new student in a dorm (at the very least make the effort for the first week). I met all sorts of people, mainly just polite 'Hellos' as they walked by but whatever. They also noticed my guitar and amp; and when the first dorm parties started happening people remembered that guy at the end of the hall with a guitar - I was that guy. One fine dorm party in late September there were about a half dozen people hanging out in my room, me and another guy playing some guitar but nothing special.

Then I notice this dude in the corner near the door, I'd never met him before. I remember he looked like Slater from Dazed and Confused (Rory Cochrane's character). He asked me if I had a bass - it was clearly visible in the opposite corner of the room. We get him plugged in and hooked up and he asks, "You ever heard of Jane's Addiction? You know the Mountain Song?"

… HELL. YES.

Except, he didn't. He knew how the song went but he didn't actually know the specific bass line:

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After a few minutes of trying to teach him the actual line he just asked me to start playing the guitar riff and we'd go from there... and we did. First the verse, then the chorus, then the verse again, then the solo... and something happened. I stopped giving a crap because this dude wasn't actually playing the song, he'd never actually been playing the song, but I'll be damned if the two of us weren't playing music. We finished up a few minutes later. He put the bass down, thanked me for the mini-jam and excused himself because he'd left his room open and unattended for the last 20 minutes or so. One girl looked at us and described it as a 'musical orgasm'. I'd never actually played 'music' like that before that moment and I didn't even know his name!

Turned out he was one of the 200 or so people registered in my department and we'd be hanging out and jamming a whole hell of a lot more over the next 2 years (and for a few more years a few years later).

Personal experience aside I still think The Mountain Song is one of those great rock tunes every new guitar / bass player should learn. From a technical standpoint the song is dirt simple, it’s just alternates between D to E and G back to E, even the chorus doesn’t really change that dynamic. What the chorus does offer is a chance for guitar players to expand their voices and the way they approach chords by alternating between full ringing chords, octaves, and power chords to emulate Dave Navarro’s penchant for layering his guitar tracks. Those differences are rather subtle in regards to what your hands end up doing on the guitar neck, but the variety of sounds that hit your ears as a result of those subtleties are everything but. The solo itself isn’t the most complex, though pretty much impossible to play ‘properly’ without some sort of delay or echo effect unit, but unlike most rock tunes, nailing that solo is irrelevant. If you want to play The Mountain Song and have people feel that you played it ‘right’ you NEED to nail that bass line.

I will forever argue that Eric Avery is one of the most underrated / underappreciated bass players of the late 80s / early 90s and this song is one of the defining examples. That bass line picks up and carries the entire song and band, from start to finish without ever once deviating from its course. It provides the perfect sonic footing for everyone else in the band to vamp and freak out over. The simplicity and focus of that line underscores a very self-disciplined musician who not only understood the role of his instrument within the ensemble but one who also took pride in it. There was no need to peacock for attention, then again when you’re backing up Perry Farrell peacocking is kind of futile hahaha.

Seriously though, it’s a three chord song - LEARN IT!

Probably one of the most personal journals I've read, ever, but unlike two others which place(d) more of an emphasis on gaining pity or sympathy --- at least as far as I understood it --- or even sharing their rage/depression/morbidity, this one seems to take what I look at as being a pretty pragmatic if not openly optimistic view of their life. Yes, bad things have happened to you, but you don't seem to (as you say yourself) turn your journal into a cry for pity/attention. You use your own experiences as a way to explain why you make, and love, music, and it's extremely refreshing.

Of course it must have been hard being a "rock child". We all fantasised about being rock stars, but having a parent as one must, in some ways, have been similar (though not anywhere near as boring) as having your father drive long-distance or be in the army, professions that kept him away from home for long periods of time. I personally did not go through any such ordeal: my parents were always here (often to my chagrin, in respect of my father) and were typical and I guess boring. But it's not at all surprising and yet interesting that you essentially followed in your father's footsteps, as it were, by taking up playing music (are you in a band? I don't remember you saying...) when in a very real way, music must have been seen as the fulcrum around which all your early dark feelings ---loneliness, hurt, anger, loss, resentment etc --- turned, and some people would perhaps have shied away from music; as Homer Simpson might have said: "Music bring pain!"

But you embraced it, and fair play to you for that. And in so doing, probably --- almost certainly --- gained a deeper insight into what made your father tick, why he did what he did, why he was prepared to be away from the family he loved, and the strains it put on his wife. Of course, you may not have completely understood his motives, but it is surely akin to walking a mile in someone's shoes; you get a better appreciation of how they fit and how they feel, particularly when their feet ache.

I do a lot of updating of my journal, but it's all mostly just music --- good music, well written and selected I believe --- but still just music. Occasionally I've reminisced back to what music means to me, how I grew up with things like record players, radios, cassettes and no itunes or even web for some of my life, but in general I haven't put much of my own personal life into my journal. I guess the deepest, darkest revelation I made was recently when, spurred by a similar admission from another MB member, I let it out that I am a crossdresser, though it's hardly a huge revelation to say you enjoy wearing a skirt and panties, but for me it was a big thing. Other than that though, I've concentrated on the music.

I look forward to this journal probably the most of any I'm currently reading. It's almost like reading someone's life story, and I wait in breathless anticipation for the next chapter! Well done, again.

Thanks for this. That's pretty much it, I just want to get it out there so I don't have to keep holding it in haha.

Music has very much been a double edged sword in my head. Really though, consider the purpose of adolescent rebellion for typical teenagers, and... well, how the hell do you rebel against a rockstar?

I'm not in a band anymore, though any of the 'bands' I was in were never really more than superficial titles to apply to the random jams we made.

As for the crossdressing thing I've thought about it in the past, mainly as a lark for Halloween but my physique is slender enough that with a padded bra and some butt pads I could definitely provide some good Aphex Twin level WTF-ery for people noticing me from behind first hahaha (especially since I wouldn't shave my face hahaha)

I want a new cake
 

One that won’t make me fat, one that won’t make me buy new pants, or make me feel like a bag of crap.

I used to pull out this big analogy about the sun and cosmic space travel to relate song and music. It worked to a certain extent so long as you wanted to perceive things in black and white, and for a while I was happy to do so. Lately I’ve been revisiting my positions on various matters and I think I need a new metaphor / analogy to reflect my views - with CAKE!

Cake is awesome. You get the chewy satisfaction from the baked batter combined with the sweetness from the frosting for a mouthful of glory. For those of you who don’t like cake… GTFO! my thread.

At this point I see music like the batter and song like the frosting, different people are going to like different ratios of both. Personally I don’t mind cake without frosting (music in its rawest form), at the same time I don’t mind a little frosting on my cake either (composed songs), but I’m generally not a huge fan of a mouthful of frosting with no actual cake inside (the vast majority of commercial pop music).

Just like a real cake there’s something to be said for the difference you’ll enjoy between something homemade from scratch versus homemade from a box versus something mass produced when it comes to music. One of the biggest challenges I faced when dealing with other musicians was getting them to recognize the difference between homemade from scratch vs. homemade from a box. The majority of independent musicians I’ve met have all convinced themselves that making it from a box will garner them the same respect and appreciation as the people who made it from scratch before them; OR that loading on the frosting but having originally baked the cake themselves (by following the directions on the box) like creating some homemade mass produced garbage retains their integrity. I obviously disagree.

On the other hand it’s kind of hard to blame the listeners. If they’ve never been exposed to anything more than frosting with a few crumbs of actual cake how are they supposed to know that it was originally intended to be mostly cake with just a bit of frosting on top? The other issue I see is the inherent insecurity found within the majority of musicians – we’re always looking to prove ourselves or our creations as being valid. That’s understandable; the problem I see is when people start limiting what they’ll attempt in order to maintain that level of external validation. It’s like trying to talk to a music fan who claims to ‘like everything’; they are, generally speaking, the most boring people to try discussing music with because they end up being more concerned with appearing to like everything than actually liking anything.

That inherent insecurity also seems to limit the scope of creative experimentation most people will publically attempt. It’s like they won’t deviate from the norm to a greater degree than their influences deviated from their own baseline back in their day. Going back to cakes let’s call a plain vanilla cake with plain vanilla frosting the mainstream baseline. Then someone came along and decided to drop some chocolate shavings onto that frosting, and people LIKED it. Well alrighty then! A slight twist to the frosting makes for a ‘new’ cake for a lot of people, so another band/baker comes along and decides to add candy sprinkles to the frosting on top of the chocolate shavings. NEW! Except, it’s not, it’s just another minor addition to (an ultimately superficial) major element. Now if the change would have been from Vanilla to Chocolate cake batter then yeah, that would be like a new style or genre becoming established and recognized, but for the most part it seems most people are content to just tweak the frosting.

Problem being, due to the proclivity of exposing everything on the internet and our social desire for the recognition of individual cultural/commercial exclusivity it’s become damn near impossible for any worthwhile subculture to germinate into anything of real worth or substance (can you tell I read a lot of William Gibson?). In the time it would take to bake a new cake the public has already decided what the new flavor or topping will be called, what it will look like, how it will taste, be consumed, and ultimately rejected for the next proposed ‘big thing’. If anything I thought the shift to the internet as the new defacto media distribution medium would increase the amount of creativity. Instead it’s proven to be just the opposite and obscured the vast majority of legitimate creativity with an exponential order of magnitude worth of derivative crap. Napster and P2P sharing didn’t lead to an increase in creativity or a wider range of listening, nor did they lead the way to the destruction of the recording industry, just way more of the same, only now you can download an artist’s entire discography with one click. Whooptee-dooo. Quantity wins over Quality yet again.

Even with a new flavor for the batter, like the example of Vanilla and Chocolate above it’s still the same basic cake. Flavored baked batter topped with sugary frosting. I want a new kind of cake! Like the difference between a typical layer cake and a Baked Alaska (for those unfamiliar it’s a personal sized cake, covered in meringue, served hot – with ice cream in the middle). That’s not to say there aren’t people experimenting in their kitchen, bedroom studio, or jam room, but most of them don’t seem to willing to replicate those experiments on a stage and that bums me out. It’s only rock and roll after all right? Don’t sweat the details and just rock it the hell out.

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You. Do not know. The rules.

snargle bargle - you do not know the rules

(Unfortunately this clip is stuck on Google video, it was too large for youtube back in the day and GVs embedding code doesn't work so a link will have to suffice. Music starts at about 3:20)

I’ve been lucky, both with the people I’ve jammed with, and with the materials available to me during those periods. At this point I’d say about 90% of anything I’ve created with other people was recorded in one form or another, though a fair amount of it has been lost to time, dead hard drives, deteriorated cassette tapes, laziness in getting something digitized etc. I still have LOTS of personal material though, and for the most part that’s what it will remain as – personal material. It’s not that I worry about how people will react to it, so much as I recognize a lot of it is filler and would be boring to pretty much anyone who wasn’t there when it happened. At the same time though, there’s almost always at the very least a fleeting moment or two when everything clicks and something special comes through, even if it’s just for a few seconds, it’s worth it to me.

This clip is my 2nd performance in front of people and the most substantial result of my first real jam room (which was really just a storage room for the lecture theatre at our school). I look like such a grungy kid with my hair down over my eyes haha (I also really miss that White Zombie t-shirt). We had a prepared tape intro (featuring some Trans Am / RHCP / and a French proto-Gollum mini aria) but the soundguy kept killing the mic volume because he thought something was messed up due to ‘weird feedback’ even though we warned him we’d have a lot of weird feedback. Whatever.

It was a college variety show, and organized as such so some friends and I decided to put together a one shot thing. All the performers were supposed to meet at the bar an hour before the show was supposed to start to figure out the order of the acts. Yeah… they ‘organized’ a variety show and had no idea of the talent or scope involved, no tryouts, rehearsals, just add your name to a list and show up at the venue on the day and we’ll do stuff. My kinda gig :D The only thing we planned was to play in A because the keyboard guy only knew how to play in either A or C and playing in A was easier on guitar (just skip the bottom string). Also this was normally a dance bar, the ‘stage’ was 4 feet wide, tops.

The girl organizing the show decided we should be first even though our bass player had become AWOL between the earlier part of the clip and the bar footage (turns out he was taking a nap). Not that it really mattered, he showed up 10 minutes after everything was supposed to start while another couple were doing their best Mazzy Star impression, then we spent about 20 minutes on stage helping with the sound guy to get all the gear mic’ed up. I think her logic was that since we’d be using most of the gear we should use it first and get as much of it out of the way as soon as possible. I don’t remember more than one other band using the drums that night. We were also only supposed to be up there for about 10 minutes, all said and done with the setup time counted we were probably up there for most of an hour.

Musically we had planned the tape intro (obviously) and the introductory crescendo from open A to its octave, there was also a plan to lift the ‘Poppies! Poppies! Poppies!’ bit from Mr. Bungle’s cover of The Existential Blues which was pretty much the main reason for the vocalist everything else happened on the fly. As stated earlier the guy on keyboards knew how to play in A and C but mainly only because he knew it meant only hitting white keys. The drummer actually studied at PIT (Percussion Institute of Technology) in LA back in the early 90s and was in every way shape or form the superior musician in the group by a lot. Bass player is the same dude as from The Mountain Song story. The guy who filmed everything happened to score a spot at the top of a flight of stairs that happened to put him parallel with the ceiling over the dance floor where the stage was setup. We also had 2 friends in the dj booth with one handling getting Geiss running on a projector while the other worked the light for the club part-time already. He was so happy that he was able to push the light machine all the way since the normal club dancers would normally get uppity when things got too trippy; like when the strobe lights make the footage pixelate midway haha.

One thing to note, when the bass player pretty much stops everything to call for a switch to a ‘reggae’ / rasta jam he also cranked both his and my amps at which point (we were later told) people had to step back from the stage because the highs from my guitar were too painful haha. I remember thinking of how awesome my tone was on the stage at that point, I had never fully cranked that little Marshall all the way before that. It kind of becomes a 3 person thing after that with the voice and keys being completely drowned out though the light show makes it look like the keyboard guy is head banging pretty hard throughout (he’s not).

About 9 minutes in is one of those points I alluded to earlier. Where everything just falls away and you just play music in that moment for however long it lasts. For myself it was only about a minute haha I remember ending that lead bit while thinking of how Clapton apparently had recorded a solo with Cream where it was all played entirely on one string and tried doing something like that. Never liked how that ended. Then again I’m also proving the old adage of ‘If you’re thinking, you’re stinking’ true with that reflection. But the switch at 11:20 blows my mind every time, where all 3 of us just change time on the fly with trade-offs and just run with it.

We all knew we had to end eventually and were waiting on the vocalist to come out and do his thing but it didn’t quite pan out, you can kind of see me shrug my shoulders at him before kicking into a final crescendo. Which I screwed up and played in G hahaha.

Turns out the girl organizing the show had been shooting him death stares and pointing at her watch, then at him, then at us, then at OFF THE FREAKING STAGE!!! for the last couple of minutes. Whatever. All she did was some Cranberries cover or something, we rocked the hell out. hahaha :pimp:

Wel, I TRIED to read your article but my eyes just kept darting back up to that YUMMY CAKE! Man, now I am so HUNGRY! Thanks a buncheroonie! :)
(All cake shops closed, where will I get cake now? Oh, Marie Antoinette...?)

You Don't Know What Love Is
 

It’s close enough to Valentine’s Day to make this one a little sappy, only not really. Way back in 1993 I was in grade 11 and V-Day happened to fall on a Sunday. I remember this because I had been working my first part-time job at a local grocery store for a while and had arranged to buy a guitar from a fellow student and co-worker, on ‘Sunday’ the relevance of the day being completely lost on us. So that fine Sunday morning I got my Aunt to give me a drive to pick up my first guitar (she’d get me to babysit, I get her to chauffeur me hehe), $250 later I’m the owner of a jet black ‘Jaguar’, not a Fender Jaguar, just Jaguar – a cheap Strat ripoff – but whatever, it stayed in tune and made me feel cool and that’s really all that mattered.

After we get back from the pickup it was my Uncle’s turn to hook me up. He dug out one of those old 10 000 Chords books and proceeded to circle the 7 shapes that make up the major chords, explained to me how to read the charts and tune my guitar, then sent me home for a week to practice. A week later I’m back in their living room and showing off the chords I’ve learned and wanting the next ‘lesson’ so he circles the most common minor chord shapes (Em, Am, Dm) and maybe a few common ‘fancy’ chords like The Hendrix Chord (7#9) and send me back on my way. Another week and I’ve got another set of chords down pat and I’m stoked for the next challenge, so I get back to their place – Alright Uncle what’s next?

That’s it.

What?!?!??

That’s it. You’ve got your major and minor chords right?

Yeah….

Then that’s it. You’ve got all you really need to make music. Now you just need to go out there and do it.

… but….

Go!

Not the kind of results my 16 year old half-spazz brain were ready to accept; though in retrospect he was totally on the money. He’d provided me with the basic building blocks of creating music. The only thing ‘missing’ was barre chord theory, but considering my uncle was a bluegrass guy I can understand why he didn’t bother. One of my best friend’s older brothers ended up hooking me up with that last piece of fundamental theoretical knowledge a little while later and then my guitar neck opened up way more than I had ever imagined possible.

I remember being a little pissed off and frustrated toward my uncle that evening when he stopped giving me what I considered ‘lessons’. I took it like he didn’t really want to help me learn – which was totally false – I just wasn’t used to having to do the majority of the legwork myself. The other thing was I saw him as a veteran, he was experienced, he’d played the instrument for longer than I’d breathed – how could he teach me everything he’d learned in just a few hours? It seemed foolish, like he was holding back on some tricks or something. Only I was the fool, making the same mistake the friend who sold me the guitar about warned me about, I was putting the cart in front of the bull and focusing on superficial lead licks and noodley bits without learning how to properly play the fundamental rhythms that supported them.

Without my uncle’s structure and direction I turned to magazines as my substitute teacher, I bought SO MANY Guitar World/Player/For the Practicing Musician magazines in the mid 90s it’s hardly funny. When I moved away to college a few years later I actually cut out all the tabs from the magazines and packed them with me instead of taking the full magazine copies – it still took 2 full grocery bags for those tabs (and I ‘might’ have looked at a dozen of them through college haha). Still those magazines were invaluable back in the day. Keep in mind this was before the internet was everywhere and even if you DID have access to the net you were getting your tab pretty much exclusively from OLGA (the On Line Guitar Archive) and all of it was homebrewed so the quality of anything more complicated than an average Nirvana tune was usually leaving a lot of room for future improvements.

The other reason I relied so heavily on magazines was that none of my peers would play with me hahaha. The reason I wanted a guitar in the first place was because I’d heard Jungle Man by the Red Hot Chili Peppers a few years earlier and it triggered something even if it did take me quite a while to build up the nerve to try stepping up (then to find an actual sale in pre-Craigslist and eBay days). So while everyone else seemed content to cheese out with Mr. Big and Extreme ballads as their attempt to modernize the default classic rock set everyone out there seemed to learn I built up technique – funky technique.


The problem with only learning technique and within a closed environment is that you become a robot. I didn’t realize how limited I truly was until almost 2 years later when I tried college for the first time (18 years old, and dropped out after Christmas because, well, I was a stupid 18 year old). I had actually met another RHCP fan (strange how rare we were prior to Californication) and he setup a jam with myself and another dude. I couldn’t do squat unless he played specific bass lines from Blood Sugar Sex Magik or some other recognizable tune. Just trying to improvise proved an impossible challenge at the time; I was far too concerned with playing the ‘right’ thing instead of just playing. That’s the final lesson my uncle tried to impart onto me when he told me ‘that was it’ after my 2nd lesson – to stop worrying about playing it right and to just play music instead. Like the classic Blues adage – if you’re thinking, you’re stinking.

Looking back it seems a little odd that my father, an actual working musician, never actually taught either of his children how to play music. Granted he was living in LA during the mid-90s (illegally - but he’s white so no one cared) but he never seemed to have the patience or inclination to pass on the music. I often wonder if it was a conscious decision he made to try shielding us from some of the less glamorous aspects of the business or that he was unwilling / incapable of sharing what made him special with others and thereby minimizing the attention that would normally be focused on him.

Either way, it was again my uncle who made it a day back in October of ‘95 to take me to the local music store along with his sons to help me get my first ‘real’ guitar on my 19th birthday. I still can’t believe that Mexican Stratocaster (made in ‘94) would now be old enough to vote if it was a real person. My Marshall amp would follow me home from that same store exactly one year later.


In November of 1997 my uncle suffered a massive heart attack and died in his home. The autopsy results indicated that it was the kind of traumatic injury that couldn’t be avoided. Even if he’d been visiting a hospital when it happened they wouldn’t have been able to save him, not that it really makes it any better. I just tell myself God needed a serious banjo player (his primary instrument) and needed one NOW. I also fully expect to drop some funky bass lines for his noodley banjo pickings someday, until then I’ll keep looking for another muse to lead me through the next phase of being a musician (though I write way more than riff lately). For now, all I can say is - Thanks Uncle, wherever you are.

----------------------



Eric Dolphy – You Don’t Know What Love Is

This is at least the 3rd time I post a clip of this tune on this site and it continues to shine above any and all other pieces of music I’ve ever heard.

Originally crafted as an actual lyrical pop song by Gene de Paul and Don Raye for a 1941 Abbott and Costello film the song was originally scrapped prior to the film’s release. It got re-introduced as part of a soundtrack for a lower quality musical film the following year. It’s only when Miles Davis and other jazz cats started recording and covering the song in the 1950s that it took on a life of its own and became far more than just some throwaway pop tune for a movie. To be honest I didn’t even know there were lyrics to the tune before I Wiki’ed it for its credits just now.

This particular version is featured on Eric Doplhy’s Last Date album, recorded just a few weeks prior to his own untimely death. The album also features a rare oral statement from Dolphy –

“When you hear music, after it’s over, it’s gone, in the air, you can never capture it again.”

That line truly exemplifies what playing music is about to me. It’s about experiencing and reflecting the moment as it happens - to be able to step out of the constraints of your conscious mind and let your eternal soul dance freely for however long the moment lasts. It becomes a sort of meditative exercise with results that make it relatively easy to understand why so many people draw parallels to religious experiences (consider how many time you’ve heard someone claim ‘musician X IS God’).

What really set this track apart from the other exploratory free jazz of the period is that this piece doesn’t seem to just reflect the moment, but reflects the totality of existence leading up to that moment, as if time is truly irrelevant and existence is an all or nothing affair.

Consider the 20 seconds of silence at the start of the clip, it’s dark, silent, nothing, an absence of sound, soul, and life. Then it cuts into the applause, on one hand a minor cacophony of atonal appreciation and acknowledgement of the potential to come; on the other hand a external bang to initialize and propel the fleeting moment the musicians grasp onto to shape their performance. It’s like staring off into the blackness of space and having a tear open up and a beam of light escaping to the dawn of a new world and within that light the seed to some new life.

The ebb and flow of the intro flute solo serves to gently bring that light and life to the surface where the long slow notes of the bass serve to grow the seed outward, slowly pushing the stem and leaves outward while the fruit still desires to reach the stars. The introduction of the piano into the piece pulls it out of the eternal and into the modern, the stark simplicity of the interplay between the flute and piano is replaced by a more intricate interplay within the full group and a shift away from long slow bowed bass notes to more traditional plucked tones. Like how the scope of the world changes from our youth into our adulthood, the flower never gets lost but it transitions from observed to observer.

The piano really seems effective at representing a more modern world, being a more mechanically complex instrument as compared to the rest of the ensemble. Having a more atonal piano solo also serves as perfect counterpoint to the melodic solo the flute provides for the majority of the piece; especially as a reflection of the way some of the flute notes come out at the end like they’re being blown too hard. It’s like an attempt to project the last bits of life possible into the melodic wind that carries a flower over the world in hopes it can continue to float over the hustle and bustle of modern life only they get brought down under the mounting pressures of the piano trills that serve to introduce its own solo.

Even with the jagged accents coming through the piano like footsteps trying to crush the petals into the pavement it doesn’t die. The flute comes back, something picks up that flower again from the dirt, and in that moment they’re transported away, the modern world fades and the moment takes over again. The wind carries that flower and the observer back up and away and into space. The day ends, the world fades away along with the band and that final solo – each note in that staccato melody is like a star shining through the blackness of space for the first time to the eyes of the observer; the ascension of the observer from the confines of their individual being into the totality of their existence, to be capable of abandoning the body in order to become light. It goes through the full cycle of life, ending where it began, but offering infinite insight within itself for willing observers.

I won’t call it ‘the best’ but this is truly one of the greatest pieces of music ever recorded.

What are you gonna do with the rest of your life?!?!???
 

While the correct answer to that question will always be “I WANNA ROCK!” the truth is… hell if I know. There’s something offsetting to me in seeing a middle aged person trying to rock out like it still matters; whether it’s a complete refusal to let go of the styles and sounds of their youth, or the lame creepiness of being a 40 something still holding fast to being 21 and obsessing with the latest pop star drama, it’s just a little off for me. It’s like a comment I got on this site once about how cool it was that I was a 30 something who still puffed weed everyday and liked making shoegaze music, I don’t think it was meant as a back handed insult but it still made me feel like a stunted adult.

That’s not to say that I think there’s an age limit to particular styles of music as much as there definitely seems to be a correlation with the attention given to certain aspects of pop culture within certain stages of personal development. I’d go so far as to say adolescent rebellion is one of the most substantial phases of personal development within youths today, it’s when and how a young person differentiates themselves from their parents and really starts getting a true sense of individuality. For the most part (especially in the western world) rock/pop music is the soundtrack to that rebellion, it means so much to so many because I think for a lot of young people it’s their first taste of a grown up communicating at them like individuals rather than children - especially since the 80s. It provides the child with another perceived voice of authority and provides them with alternative options on how to deal with daily conflicts. Whether it’s some pop garbage talking about trends, or some heartfelt reflection of the soul is irrelevant so long as the young listener feels an impact.

The problem occurs when you get people who don’t recognize the underlying reason for the appeal and run with the belief that the personal pop culture of their youth IS the superior one that shouldn’t ever have to be remixed by the mainstream. Whatever, they’re the same kind of people who’d complain about Amy Winehouse getting added to the 27 club but were defending Kurt Cobain against the exact same ‘logic’ back in their own heyday. I don’t think we all need to become cranky old curmudgeons, but at the same time I sure as hell don’t want to be a frat boy forever.

Having said all that, if rock music is the soundtrack to adolescent rebellion – how do you rebel against a rock musician?

I’m still not sure, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s kind of like a magic trick, once you understand how it works it’s not special anymore, it just doesn’t matter. In my case, it was owning up to the realization that I was abusing music as a way of getting back at the old man. I know I’ve got ‘potential’, not enough to sell millions of records and tour the world but enough to have other people pick up and comment on it - I spent years burying that potential under a mess of noisy improvisations. Problem being, I was blind to the fact that I was actually following rather closely to his early path.

I don’t have that many memories of seeing my old man in action, in fact I only ever remember seeing him actually perform once (some promo gig in the mid 80s for a local tv spot). What little I do remember form back in the day were rehearsals and the unbelievable boredom within – STOP! START IT OVER AT THE CHORUS AND GO THROUGH THE BRIDGE! GOTTA GET IT TIGHT! 2-3-4! GO!... ALRIGHT! NOW FROM THE TOP!

…. Oh. My. God. It was so boring. I remember being like 5 and thinking ‘Why can’t you guys just rock out? Why do you have to keep stopping every time it starts getting good?’ Soooooo boring, and 20 years later, I had no intentions on reliving that shenanigan, or creating a new stage for some sycophants to latch onto. In my mind his music was lame and corporate, his focus on commercial success and his discipline towards the quality of their sound just turned me off. Turns out that boring level of discipline is kind of exactly what you need if you want to be taken halfway seriously as an actual professional working musician, and if you intend to pay your bills without having to work some lame day job you’d better believe you need to approach performing with the same attitude as a corporate professional.

But… I’m a hard headed idiot, so rather than learn specifics I worked off my assumptions. Here’s the kicker though, a lot of my initial rebellious attitudes were not only seen as correct and viable but actually encouraged; we were NOT supposed to want to emulate the past, as grunge kids we were NOT supposed to openly want commercial success. And with peers that shared those initial attitudes it took me a long while to recognize how foolish I was being and how closely I was actually following the path we all thought we had turned our backs on.

I’ll cut this rambling here for now, but I’m sure I’ll come back to this topic for further introspection in the future.

----------------------



Anyone who’s ever paid attention to my posts when it came to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, classic songs, or major influences knew this song was coming. This is the lightning bolt that refried my brain after it froze up following the breakdown of my family.

Everything about this track is badass, from sounds to sights I’ve never seen anything quite like it before or since. I’d seen other bands who looked all freaky and punkish but the hardcore styles I’d hear as a result didn’t appeal to me. I’d heard other bands who sounded kind of funky like that but never without a bunch of keyboards and shoulder pads (it was the 80s after all). Ultimately everything I’d heard before the Chili Peppers got compared to some imaginary line I’d established through my old man. Then again when all you heard was 80s AOR radio rock like Don Henley or Phil Collins or Journey or Foreigner it’s easy to think that most music is boring grown up stuff.

Jungle Man is not boring grown up stuff.

That bass line entered my head the same way you’d swing a baseball bat into a bag of garbage - it splattered ALL OVER THE PLACE before Hillel’s guitar scooped it all up into a new container. I remember laying on the floor in the living room at my aunt’s house doing homework, and then stopping completely, mouth agape, entirely possessed by what I was seeing and hearing on the tv. It’s the first time I remember recognizing the popular value of a piece of media completely independently of any other factors.

In fact I got social pressure from my peers to distance myself from the band because ‘they were gay’ in the days before Under the Bridge becoming a hit and making it ‘ok’ to like the band. Looking back this attitude is definitely one of the factors in my frustration with musicians who would talk about their ideals on how to create music but wouldn’t actually be willing to attempt any sort of public display of those ideals until another group has proven the viability of the action through their own means. I mean, really, if WE did it first someone might laugh at us, and we certainly don’t want to be risking a little ridicule in light of being potentially seen as innovators, no sir.

This song is also the first time I WANTED to play guitar, though I also remember thinking I wanted to play guitar because I’d never be cool enough to play bass like what I’d just heard. Though in reality…
---------------------------------------
---------4-----------------4-----------
---------------------------------------
--0h2--X---2--0----0h2--X---2--0--2--
… is a pretty easy bass groove.

My other big thing for the Chili Peppers is all the indirect influence they had on me. I’d pick up any magazine I could find that featured an interview with Flea and whatever guitarist they had at the time and in every interview I learned something more about either playing music or other musicians. Again this is something that the proliferation of the internet has changed immensely. You don’t need to wait for a new magazine to be printed to learn a bit more about a person or their influences, you don’t need to make a list of people to check out in the future when all you need to do now is clear off enough hard drive space prior to clicking on the discography download. But back in the day those magazine interviews could provide real substance and I was lucky that Flea always took advantage of those opportunities to discuss some of his favourite musicians with the hopes that kids like me would explore music beyond the tv and radio and discover some new sounds and grooves.

I can’t actually think of an interview where Flea acted like he was above the situation like a big star, or glamourized the lifestyle or talked about partying and banging groupie (I’m totally making this expression a thing now). It was ALWAYS about the music first and foremost, and for being a consummate musician like that, even if the last few RHCP have sounded bland to my ears, I’ll always have time to hear what Flea has to say, no matter what voice he chooses to use to speak it.

Heh. Even though it was quite awhile ago, I remember that exact comment you're referring to, and exactly who said it, and I have to tell you, even though it was directed at you not me, it made me feel the exact same way about myself when I read it. :laughing:

I can totally related to relate to this entry, by the way. There are so many times I wonder what fourteen year old me would have thought of current me, a thought which always leads me directly to wondering why thirty-four year old me should give the remotest fuck what some simple-minded kid from the early 90s thinks.

Also, "Jungle Man" is a great track, though not as good as "Catholic School Girls Rule".

It's all good, I often wonder if that feeling of stunted maturity is one of the main reasons bands break-up due to 'creative differences'.

I also agree that Jungle Man is not necessarily the best old-school RHCP track out there (I'd go with Funky Crime myself) but JM was the catalyst in my youth. I can't deny its effect on my growth.

P. E. O. P. L. E. C. I. T. Y.
 

People In The City is from Air’s 2nd full length album – 10 000Hz Legend, it’s one of the standout tracks on the disc. I had the chance to see them about 3 weeks before that particular clip was filmed, at the 9:30 Club in Washington DC. I remember the bass being punchier in the middle at my show, a little rougher around the edges if you will; it made the whole thing rock a little harder in my opinion. Live footage starts about halfway through the clip.

Now as for the way I got to see that show. Wow. Fasten your seatbelts because this particular rabbit hole gets really retarded really fast. Have I ever mentioned how stupid I used to be? Stubbornness and naivety can only take so much blame…

This goes back to the Winter of 2001. The previous 6 months had been quite eventful, graduating from college in video game design (which was really more like 2 years of ‘high’ school), a job training / work term thing of questionable legality in Seattle that was supposed to be a week but turned into 3 months yet somehow didn’t completely blow up in everyone’s faces (mine and 4 others), and a subsequent contract to work on a small scale game with a major online presence.

That’s where the good stuff ends.

The reality of that new job with the contract was that we were for the most part idiots in terms of managing ourselves. We were all too young and too concerned with remaining friends for one of us to step up and be the boss. The two graphics guys literally spent every single afternoon of our employment playing NHL ‘92 on the Sega Genesis. None of us actually went to work, rather we hung out in the office and ‘worked’ on our game. That’s not entirely true, the 2 programmers tried to work but a company without an actual ‘business’ man at the top is just a bunch of dudes hanging out regardless of intentions or words. I was the level designer with a serious case of tunnel vision on the special-ness of my snowflake.

By the time the winter set in I’d started ‘working’ later hours, showing up around 4 in the afternoon and sticking around until 4-5 in the morning. Part of the reason was due to rendering times for the worlds I was trying to create, lighting could take upwards of 90 minutes to render prior to being able to test the result to check for bugs / issues. That alone should have been enough indication that I should have scrapped everything and started over but that would have required experience and knowledge. But I was the only one who really knew how to create the worlds in the proprietary 3d game engines we had at the time, hell even my teachers would refer to me in class when it came to specifics about building in them. And so, my head kept swelling.

The other reason I never bothered revising my method was because of the seedy underside of the early days of the net. IRC. :( I’d start the render and fire up a chat client and start the sad dance of lonely nerds. Ahh yes, the late 90s / early 2000s - the heyday of long-distance e-relationships. God. Damn. We were STUPID.

So anyway one fine January evening I started a chat with SillyGurl (all names have been changed to protect me from those who have threatened legal action in the past) and we hit it off. First I added her to ICQ to help her with computer issues at her place. She worked some minor bookkeeping job in Baltimore. Within a few weeks it became rather apparent that she was obsessing with me and trying to gain my approval or praise on everything she did. I mentioned smoking weed, and having experimented with other psychedelics while in college, she’d never had that opportunity so within a few weeks of ‘meeting’ me online she’s now telling me about having started to puff and partying then how she tried just tried LSD randomly about a month into her new change. Even as stupid as I was I recognized that as dangerous behavior and tried counseling her to slow down a bit.

My main thing with ‘meeting’ people online back in the day was that the relative anonymity of indirect communication made it easier to be completely honest about ourselves. It’s not like Facebook existed yet with the majority of our specific personal information listed for the world to see. That’s not to say I hadn’t hidden the personal information I’d listed in ICQ when I filled out my profile as a ‘professional’ for work :(

So anyway, stupid boy and broken woman kept chatting. She’d start to obsess, I’d push her away, get bored after a few days, go back and the idiocy perpetuated itself. Ignorance doesn’t absolve guilt. Fact is though, the back of my head was tossing up as many red flags as it could produce I was just choosing to ignore them.

It got to the point where she claimed to be chatting with me during a party at her place. She’d have people over but kept excusing herself to send messages back to me. At one point one of her friends popped onto the pc and asked me a few questions and if she could add me to her own chat client at home. So I added DirtyGurl to the mix. Yeah… effing genius…
So that obviously created the start of a whole pile of dramatic e-love triangle drama. The main problem was that I was still very much a stupid ‘nice guy’, I wanted to help out SillyGurl, I also have a very hard time saying ‘no’ so when DirtyGurl claimed to want to help the situation I accepted. Reality was DirtyGurl was a poop disturber who just wanted to cause strife, and SillyGurl was a drama queen who took any comment to heart then emotionally overreacted to everything.

That actually lasted for a couple of weeks. By the time we could see the end of Winter things had calmed down a bit. I think it was near the end of March where I started asserting myself more and putting my foot down on the situation. I’d grown tired of constantly defending myself against their bickering to the point where I blocked DirtyGurl and gave the Silly one an ultimatum – do ‘not’ reference any more of her garbage drama to me or I block you too. The calm only lasted a few hours, so I blocked both and then went to bed.

Next day I get to work and my coworkers tell me about a phone message from a law enforcement type. Here’s another thing about letting a bunch of idiot nerds run an ‘office’ – we had two separate offices, one for artists, one for programmers, we only bothered getting a phone in the programmer office. So they had informed this LawLady that I normally worked evenings, and so she’d try calling again that night, only the programmers locked their office when they left that evening. The phone rang non-stop for over 4 hours that evening...

Next morning when the first programmer showed up, I got his help. 2 minutes later we’ve got the number for the missed call and one Google search later and we’re seeing an area code map of the Baltimore area. Time to come clean a bit, it helped that he was actually in the process of marrying a woman he’d met online, so no mockery or ridicule, and a definite plan to leave the door unlocked that evening.

Fast forward a few hours, this time I’m able to get the call from LawLady who described herself as a Sherrif’s Deputy for the area dealing with an attempted suicide. Apparently after I blocked SillyGurl she sent me some messages letting me know she couldn’t go on without me and that she’d take a bunch of pills if I didn’t reply (she was already blocked by this point so I never got the messages). She apparently smartened up after taking the pills and called 911 who then found her unconscious and took her to the hospital for treatment. Part of her ‘treatment’ was directly addressing her actions with everyone involved and since I was technically the last person in communication with her (our chat screen was open with suicidal messages when they found her) I was involved in that process.

LawLady and I talked for over 3 hours. :banghead:

During that time I agreed to unblock SillyGurl so that we could chat a bit and hopefully smooth things out a bit. I did feel guilty and I agreed to help – for recovery, as a result I ended up with LawLady’s chat info as well just in case SillyGurl seemed to start freaking out I could warn her of a potential 2nd attempt on her life or something. SillyGurl and I chatted a few times after that but it was obviously not at all the same anymore, she had quit her old job and started studying tourism at a local college and I encouraged her to keep up with it. This would have been around April. As things cooled down with SillyGurl they started to heat up with LawLady.

Over the next 2-3 months LawLady and I started chatting more and more, even to the point of giving her my phone number so we could actually talk on the phone. She had apparently studied psychology as well as corrections to end up in the position she had with the county but it wasn’t going to last much longer. She found it too stressful and wanted to take some time off to work on her Master’s thesis – about how the increased popularity of the internet affects interpersonal relationships. Well isn’t that a nice co-inky-dink; and with my recent direct involvement with an e-relationship gone bad I was a perfect candidate for ‘research’.

That’s when the suggestion to visit Baltimore for a week in June came up, and within it the chance to see Air.

On that note we're over 1500 words again so I’m gonna cut this off here for now, part 2 will follow in 2 weeks (it has a car chase :D).

Man! I know it's your life, and respect that, so don't think I'm trivialising what happened, but this is more like a movie of the week or something! Really interesting, and two weeks seems a long way off now to wait!

Most interesting thing that happened to me with IRC was that I got hooked on it, to the point where I spent my entire two weeks' holidays chatting till about 6am then going to sleep, missing the day. After a while I realised it was taking over my life and cut it out completely. Never went back. I found people got very possessive on IRC: if you werent there EVERY DAY at a specific time (never mind the time difference --- why is it Americans think it's always their time wherever in the world you are? I would say at 3-4 am time to go to bed and she'd say but it's only 7pm or whatever! ) they got annoyed, upset, clingy, as if you had nothing else to do. Well, I didn't, but that's beside the point.

People laugh, but IRC addiction can be as bad as any drug I feel. In fact, as you've demonstrated above, it can be worse, as it can hurt others, often without you even knowing it (suicide notes on a blocked screen). I don't think anyone I dealt with was that unhinged or desperate, but then I cut all ties so I would never have known. Glad things seem to have worked out for you anyway.

Great journal, great writing. I always check when you post, as it's always, without exception, worth it.

TH

Thanks for the feedback, I do appreciate any comment even if I don't reply immediately. You're not the first person to say it sounds like a TV Movie either, I even had someone ask me if he could use my experiences as the basis for a script he wanted to write so who knows.

I could (and will) comment more about IRC and relationships in my next update. I really thought I could write up this whole incident in two chunks but it's going to take a third one for the resolution (including the promised car chase).

And this is the condensed / light on details version of things... :shycouch:

I Want to Play in the Summer…
 

… Like I used to before.

Trans Am is one of the ‘original’ post rock bands that emerged in the late 90s in the wake of more experimental groups like Tortoise and Slint with a fair amount of Krautrock influence throughout. This particular track is from their 5th full length (Red Line). The only other thing I’ve known about the band is that they’re from the Washington DC area, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

So back to the crazies…

As Spring progressed into Summer there were more and more phone calls to the point where we’d chat then talk on the phone for a few hours every night before bed. The line between personal and professional didn’t get blurred; it got completely scribbled over and ignored. In retrospect it makes me wonder how much loneliness is a factor towards making foolish interpersonal decisions.

Regardless, at the time I was still incredibly naïve and immature, difference now is that I can recognize it rather than thinking everyone else is stupid. We made our plans to meet. I wasn’t completely dumb, I did press for proof of authenticity in regards to some of her claims, like her association with particular universities. I received formal looking notarized documentation on the proper letterheads so I didn’t think more about it.

As the actual visit drew nearer I think we both started getting cold feet. I started pushing more on the angle that I was going there for ‘professional’ reasons, as a matter of assisting her with research for her thesis. She got defensive thinking I was trying to dump her. That should have been a red flag but I’d just write her off as unfocused and needing my help to get her work done. I wasn’t open or honest about much of anything in regards to my so called relationship with this person with any friends or family until about a week before I was supposed to take off.

I didn’t tell my mom until about 2 days prior to leaving, for obvious reasons she didn’t like the idea. The next evening I got a call from a gentleman identifying himself as the president of one of the universities LawLady claimed to be associated with to explain his concerns to me about this matter. Mainly because he wasn’t able to find a record of her association with his school and none of her methods were standard practices. Regardless, I stood my ground, I think deep down I wanted to make this decision for myself on my own, I didn’t want to be told or advised by ‘grown ups’ on this matter like I was some dumb kid, especially not for something about the internet, I mean really, how would those old farts actually even be able to get it? Did I mention I was stupid?

So anyway, next day I get on the plane. This is all pre-9/11 so I didn’t need a passport or much of anything besides just showing up with a printout of a receipt for the ticket and maybe a photo ID and I was off. I spotted her as soon as I stepped off. She didn’t quite look as I expected, something was just a little off, but I justified it as her sending old photos, another flag I ignored. She also always told me she drove a green Toyota Celica, a friend of mine had actually bought a new Celica that year as well. First he told me – that car isn’t available in green. She then claimed a custom paint job, fine. Though, once we stepped out of the airport, there was no green Celica in sight, but there was a stretch limo. Ummmm k.

I’m not one for ostentatious displays of material wealth. I’ve never been one for flashy stuff. That part of myself has never really changed for as long as I can remember and it’s an attitude I’ve always been rather clear with. I’m very much a function over fashion kind of guy, so having to step in the limo raised a flag I couldn’t ignore anymore. Especially once LawLady started pointing out all sorts of various historical landmarks and factual tidbits about the area like she was a tour guide (what SillyGurl had been studying) instead of a psychologist working towards their Masters degree. I remember sitting in the back of that limo and making the choice to play dumb rather than address some of the red flags even I couldn’t deny anymore.

We made it to the hotel without incident, I got checked in, and then we did some interviews which she taped on cassette. At that point things seemed to be going back to ‘normal’, at least until she got a call from her brother late in the afternoon while we were getting ready to head out for food. I couldn’t make out any specifics but he was FLIPPING OUT HARD, like I’ve never heard so much screaming and hollering coming out of the side of a phone before or since. She explained it as him being overly dramatic about their shared phone bill because she was staying at his place for a few weeks while hers was getting renovated.

So we got through that first day, 2nd day started as more of the same then I got a phone call after lunch by these two guys who identified themselves as former police (detective and sergeant) and current university security guys. They’d been investigating this matter as a direct request from the Prez of their institution so they were likely heads of security. Anyway, neither of them could find tangible proof and requested that I check in with them once a day, just leave a message saying “Yeah, this is Dave, it’s today and everything is cool.” Next day, more of the same, made sure to call in, then it was time for the midweek break from all the interviews and for the trek down to DC for an overnight stay.

So I check out on the 4th morning of this trip, and we take off for DC. I had a giant music nerd moment on that train trip when I noticed the transit map featuring coloured lines showing the various routes around the DC area and a particular Red Line, that also ended at a spot called ‘Shady Grove’ not unlike a particular closing track on a particular album. Even nuttier was re-listening to that track and realizing it was a bunch of samples recorded from within a train car exactly like the one I was on (same station announcements etc.) with the drummer doing his best impression of the sound of the train starting and stopping between the stations.

Once we got to DC we checked out all the cool stuff at the National Mall like the Smithsonian and Museum of Natural History, as well as a lot of other stuff but those two were amazing. I highly recommend both, along with everything else available at the National Mall to anyone who gets the opportunity to visit. Then we headed to our hotel downtown, had a meal, and got ready for Air.

They were beyond awesome; Sebatien Tellier was the opening act and set the mood nicely. I remember being amazed at the amount of free sampler cds people were trying to give away to patrons outside the venue and LawLady giving me derisive attitude for accepting a bunch. Whatever, my friends appreciated the free collections of random tunes once I got back.

I did not call in.

The next day when we got back to Baltimore we ended up at some Chinese takeout place and while we were waiting for our food she checked her messages for the first time in two days. I didn’t hear what was said, but she got a weird look on her face then forced her phone into my hand and MADE me call my mom and leave a message. No waiting to get to the hotel or nothing, RIGHT NOW. Apparently Mama Dave doesn’t mince words when she thinks her baby is in danger. In retrospect where she did manage to get the president of a rather large university to call me directly, I don’t think it’s beyond reason to consider the probability she’d made contact with the FBI or other security agencies. Again this is all pre-9/11 so it’s not like there were terror watch lists, crossing the border for something like this was still just considered dumb instead of suspicious.

So I call my mom and leave a message, I also check back in with the university security guys and leave my voice mail check with an apology for missing the previous day. At that point our day was ultimately shot, we’d gotten back from DC late that afternoon, she was frazzled by whatever phone messages she had and we made arrangements to meet the next morning to continue with interviews and start wrapping up the research.
Next morning, I get up, shower, do my regular thing and get ready for the specified hour. She doesn’t show up. An hour or so goes by and then I get a phone call. She asks me to check out of my front window and to tell me what I can see. Nothing. At least nothing out of the ordinary to me, there’s a parking lot, and a street, and a McDs across the way and a couple of cars in that parking lot too. Except they were parked behind a big tree and I could only see the front corners of the police car and university security truck that had apparently been parked there all morning staring at my hotel window.

About 20 minutes later I get a knock at the door; Police officer and two older dudes. They proceed to identify themselves as the university guys and establish decades of experience and ask me to prove my identity and safety. At this point there’s no more denying the red flags. I explain my perspective and version of the events, they explain in turn that they don’t actually care about anything specific regarding the people involved; it’s all about serving a Cease and Desist order to protect the integrity of the university’s reputation in case any details about this now obvious shenanigan went public.

It sounds cheesy as hell but after we confronted her with proof of deception on the phone she came clean and we all met up at McDonald’s for cheeseburgers (I swear to Christ this line is 100% truth hahaha). She confessed and apologized for misleading me and agreed to the C&D action. I must say the security guys were top notch, they could have been teasing and ridiculing my situation to no end, they could have just walked away once she signed the order but they didn’t, they honestly helped me out and got in contact with the airport to help bump my flight home ahead a couple of days, they even drove me to the airport after the McMeal. Mind you they also had a good laugh about how fast she was flying along an adjacent highway to get there first. She insisted on paying the transfer fee for my flight since everything was technically her fault. I shouldn’t have even acknowledged her but it was easier to let her do it than confront. I didn’t hug her on the way back but I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder when I left the terminal. It’s not that I wanted to get one last look, it’s that I ALWAYS look over my shoulder on the way out of anywhere to make sure I didn’t forget anything.

I know I promised a car chase last time. I didn’t realize how much typing was involved with this craziness.

It’s not over.

Great stuff as usual Dave, but I'm a little confused. What scam was she running? Why were the authorities after her?

Sorry I got lost in the details and didn't actually write out the resolution I planned :shycouch:

So... to recap.

I met SillyGurl, then her friend DirtyGurl got rolled into the mix for drama. Then SG tried to commit suicide and LawLady entered the picture. LL claimed to be working through a major university. I was to visit her area based on some of the work she was doing for that institution.

The reality is, LawLady was a lie. 100% same as her name, career, personal history, home, car. It was a new persona SG took on for herself after the attempted suicide (I do believe she did try). I can't say if DG was real but I'm inclined to believe that one too. There was never an association with the university, hence their concern on the matter, but where she claimed to be getting funding from them and faked documentation they didn't want to take chances in handling the matter, justifying the Cease and Desist action. Her funding actually came from her brother, which explains the insane screaming I heard (turns out he'd just gotten a phone bill for something like $500).

The authorities were never after her so much as just trying to get to the truth of our matter due to her choice of indirectly associating them into her mix of lies and deception. Their entire concern was protecting the integrity of their university's reputation.

The only scam she was running was being desperate for love.

Baby...
 

… It Ain’t Over Till It’s OVER.

Yeah so this whole confusing shenanigan went down over the Summer of 2001 and didn’t really ‘finish’ until late Spring / early Summer 2003; so many phone calls, so much emotional manipulation, guilt, drunken ranting and raving. Throughout it all I remained steadfast in my stupidity and desire to help. Here’s the most substantial thing I learned through the entire experience and something the vast majority of people need to grasp about themselves:

I AM NOT A TRAINED PROFESSIONAL! THEREFORE I CANNOT EFFECTIVELY HELP ANOTHER PERSON WITH THEIR MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES.

Her first phone calls back to me ran the expected gamut of emotions, first it was apologies, then anger, and threats, and extraordinary claims. I even got a call from her mom at one point going off about Cancer and stuff like getting together because of a major health issue was sensible.

My friends all made the reasonable suggestion of either blocking her number or changing my phone number. I refused based on my belief that she had to be the one to want to end contact with me otherwise she’d always continue pursuing me. Based on the efforts she’d already done (and would eventually do) I was right, even if it took the better part of 2 years.

Her biggest attempt at pursuit and reconnection was later in the Summer of 2001, probably near the end of August as 9/11 hadn’t happened yet because there’s no way the border would have reacted the same way a month later. Anyway, one fine day I was sitting down to start dinner in my apartment and the phone rings. The guy at the other end of the line identifies himself as a border guard stationed at one of my provincial crossings. He wants to know if I recognize LawLady’s fake name and maybe a little more light into the situation.

CRAP.

So yeah… I totally spill the beans and explain to him the scoop. Apparently she’d left some of her duplicated paperwork in her trunk including her driver’s license and registration stuff. Her brother had also given her a length of metal pipe to keep hidden under her seat in case she ever had to protect herself from road rage freak outs. To the border guard though, it was an individual trying to cross into another country with a false identity and a concealed weapon. Her original intent was a surprise visit, he assured me that wouldn’t be happening that evening, but that I might get a call from his supervisor just to validate the claims of the situation. I didn’t get called from the Supervisor.

Holy hell did I ever get some phone calls from her that night though. One thing I tried to stress to her (and felt that I got through with) was that there were no romantic feelings anymore, my trust was betrayed, it was never going to happen. I also recognized that she had to be the one to want to let go as well so I tried encouraging her to focus on her studies with the Travel and Tourism course she had started that Spring. It actually seemed to work and her calls subsided.

Or so I thought, apparently by the summer of 2002 the ONLY job she could get in that field was leading bus tours into the New England states and into my little part of Canada. Right….

It had been a year since the whole encounter, her calls had diminished, though I noticed if I was ever any kind of friendly she’d latch onto that and start calling way more often. I didn’t want to screw over her education and the effort she’d made to improving herself so I agreed to not object if she ‘had’ to work in Canada, but I was also very clear about the fact that I was not comfortable with seeing or having direct contact with her again. So long as she was only crossing over for work and would remain with her work then whatever.

Then one fine Summer day, pretty sure it was a Friday, I’m hanging out with my friend who actually did own a Celica. I remember we had to be back at my place for late afternoon since I was expecting a call from the border to say, sure it’s ok so long as it’s only work. Except the only call I got was from her saying that she was in line at the border and that it would only be a bit longer. So my friend and I head out and walk down to the corner store for drinks and munchies, hang out for a bit longer, and then he’s got to leave. Normal enough, then I notice he forgot his sunglasses on the counter, just as the buzzer rings.

Good timing buddy! (except he doesn’t actually feature in this story again).

So I hit the button and crack the door open and stick my head out, I was in a ‘basement’ apartment at the time so there were 3-4 steps to go down first before getting to my hallway. She wasn’t even down the first step before every lock on my door was fastened. I wasn’t exactly in fear of my safety I just didn’t know how to deal with her or how to properly handle the situation. I didn’t really want to go to the cops because it didn’t seem like ‘that’ serious of a situation. It’s also not physically possible to cross the border and drive a street legal car from there to my place within the timeframe of her phone calls.

So I took the coward’s way out and hid in the corner of my apartment before hiding in front of my computer with my headphones on (so I couldn’t hear her knock or complain through my door).

After about an hour of that I get an email from one of my best friends. Essentially saying, “DUDE WTF! I’m playing hooky tonight and tried to stop over for a visit and…. WHAT THE FREAKING HELL DUDE!”

Turns out he had showed up and tried buzzing my door while she was waiting in the entrance (secured building) and when she saw him hit my button she made some comment about visiting me and asking for him to talk a bit of sense into me. He just backed away slowly. Then a 2nd friend did the exact same thing, he played hooky, and had a face to face encounter in my building before emailing me.

And that’s when we crossed the line and went full retard. We could and should have just called the cops and gotten this properly handled but… that would be boring.

So one of the guys leaves his car at my place and gets into the getaway car. We’re talking THIS badboy of automotive supremacy.


The glory upon which you are gazing is a 1992 Mercury Topaz. That thing can go 0-100km/h in less than a minute or so and won’t start shaking uncontrollably until you hit almost 120km/h AND going downhill. It’s also got the widest trunk I’ve ever seen on a relatively small car – you can load a bass guitar in a hard shell case flat in, no messing with angles or trying to shimmy and wedge it in there.

So anyway my two buddies are cruising around in that car and one of them is using the ‘cell phone’ to coordinate a plan with me. We’re talking one of those old school half brick gameboy looking things with a flip piece to speak into that still needed to be plugged into the car’s lighter socket. She’d been stalking my building and parking lot for a while apparently, they’d try drawing her away so I could ‘escape’ but she’d normally just turn back. Eventually she took the bait.

And the chase was on.

Now I was still hiding in my apartment at the time. I only know what I heard through the phone. She was apparently driving parallel to them in the lane for oncoming traffic through residential streets. She’d cut them off at intersections, weaving in and out of traffic, driving over curbs; everything short of physically ramming the vehicles. Heck even my friend was somehow pushing that Tempo and its automatic transmission to the point of squealing the tires. Then it happened, they managed to get her boxed into a lane at an intersection that only went straight, and with the current traffic she would only be able to go straight until she found another corner.
So I get the message. “She’s stuck! GO GO GO! We’re looping around behind the grocery store, we’ll pick you up at the shady end of your street!” Seconds later I’m sprinting down the street, neighbors are probably thinking I knocked off one of the corner stores, don’t care. I’m more than halfway to the corner before the Tempo pulls up to a fast stop. I motion to my friend in the passenger window to open the back door. I’m thinking the less time I’m visible the better. I point to the back door, I wave my arms in a “OPEN IT!” manner, he gives me a thumbs up. :banghead:

Whatever, those few seconds didn’t end up mattering, she was lost and didn’t manage to round the corner to see my escape. I laid myself down on the floor in the back between the seats and might have even pulled a blanket over top of me just in case. First stop was my one of their girlfriend’s apartments, I hung out there for an hour or two while they went back and got the other guys car. They also did a few spins around the block to confirm that she wasn’t still stalking the area.

Now in retrospect I learned that when she tried to cross the border again (for work) that her first visit with the falsified credentials etc. was still on her record or something. Either way, it worked against her ability to cross the border for whatever reason, and in order to fix it I had to give my approval, but if I was OK with her crossing the border then I ‘should’ have been ok with signing a letter from the border agency or whatever on her behalf. That’s not how it was originally explained and therefore that’s not how anything played out.

After that incident the calls went bananas for a bit, she threatened me with legal action to recoup the costs of her education because it was ‘my fault’ she couldn’t work, etc. It took over a year to actually meet her again as yet another ‘new’ person (3rd? 4th persona?) except this time where she was adamant about being ‘new’ I was able to trap her logic and either force her to acknowledge the façade that wasn’t nearly as opaque as she’d hoped or to leave me alone, win win for me.

I got the last call a few hours later. She asked me to hear her out first before saying anything. Then went on to claim she’d finally seen or experienced something to fully grasp my perspective, she’d finally burned the sweatshirt she’d worn when she hugged me and as a result had smelled like me for almost 3 years… :yikes:

It sounded like one of those ‘empowerment’ support group things like when obsessive people need to make some sort of physical display to get over some sort of emotional issue. In her case she needed physically destroy everything about me to move on or something. Good enough for me. The last thing I said after she explained herself and how she was moving on was “It’s taken almost 3 years, it’s about god damned time. Good. Bye.” Then I hung up the phone and went back to bed.

----

But back to the night of that chase. From the ‘safe-house’ of a friend’s girlfriend’s living room, to the safety of a friends’ parent’s spare room; there was really only one place left to go. The safest, most secure, most obscured room in my area, that side room in the basement of my friend Jef’s parents house.

Oh yes, after a night like that the only place to go was… straight to THE JAM ROOM! (I only wish I could find the jam we recorded about her - "BALTIMORE! BALTIMORE! WE DON'T NEED YOU, ANYMORE!" then my friend J-the driver tries to sing this high note and his voice cracks like he's a Muppet, it was a thing of beauty).

[quick, gobsmacked reply] This is amazing! Out of nowhere, I chose Lenny's "It ain't over" for the Daily Earworm slot for tomorrow, and I haven't thought about that song for years! GMTA! Or, indeed, GEHA! [/quick, gobsmacked reply]:hphones:

Like I said already, probably one of the most entertaining things I have read in a long time, which is not to denigrate or ignore the trauma you went through, but man was that interesting. You certainly have led an experience-packed life! Hope it all worked out in the end.

You should definitely sell this story (names changed to protect the ignorant) --- it'd be a movie in no time!

Thanks, glad you enjoy my ramblings haha. I can definitely see where people would call some of those experiences traumatic, but I never really felt in danger or overly concerned. I'm gonna chalk it up to being really naive :laughing:

You're also not the first person to mention movie action in regards to that story. It's kind of nutty, don't really know how I'd go about turning it into a movie though.

Also, great job on the Journal Guide thread, though I don't see myself transitioning to a more album review oriented format anytime soon hehe

I Don't Even Know What I'm Doing Here
 

YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!

… and that about sums up the years in the basement jam room in a nutshell.

For the most part we were a bunch of pretentious stereotypes that couldn’t see beyond ourselves at the time. I’ve said it for years and I’ll say keep saying it for decades to come, there’s a whole hell of a lot more to music than just the sounds you hear. Ultimately it boils down to communication, honest and clear words and thoughts flowing between the individuals within the group. It’s a whole hell of a lot harder just to string those words together to form that preceding sentence than it is to actually put it in practice face to face.

What we lacked in adult life experience we made up with passive aggression, it was ultimately a recipe for disaster. I’m still friends with everyone I played with, though looking back I feel like I owe them an apology for wasting that spot of our youth right after college. At the time I still had all sorts of unresolved issues in my head, and lacked the life experience to properly address them. As a result our jams became more of a cathartic exercise, none of us went to therapy; we just exorcised our demons through our improvisations. There are plenty of times where our drummer / vocalist blew out his vocal chords and finished the afternoon completely hoarse due to having screamed out his own frustrations about his situation.

I’m not proud of having to admit to having thrown a guitar across this basement either. It might not look like much but it thoroughly captures the essence of that group and our relative immaturity (mine are the feet on the left)

http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/i...1b3346f8/l.jpg

I still struggle with grasping the difference in how people see me and how I see myself, but musically I’ve finally been able to assert myself clearly. Problem being, I only found that ability long after our last jam room flooded and we all started moving in separate directions. All the people I used to play with still talk about jamming when I see them again, but the only one I’d truly feel comfortable starting anything substantial with is my original drummer (the F). That’s not to say I never made attempts to express what was flowing around in my head. I’m going to take the easy way out of this entry by copying and pasting en email I wrote to my bandmates back in what almost feels like a past life (Summer 2007):

Apologies for the lack of capitalization, I was a bastard, but that last two paragraphs really solidify the majority of my perspective on being an idealistically artistic musician. Yet, even 5 years later, I still complain. The result of that original email? Lots of praise from the bandmates, lots of OH YEAH! LET’S JAM!!!. Was there ever a show? Well… we can’t just go up there and make it up. You can’t just do that. I don’t want people getting angry or laughing at us… From a guy who fancied calling himself a Hooligan (incidentally this is the same guy who never learned the bass line to The Mountain Song).

Yeah… COMMUNICATION! It’s not about saying the right thing, it’s about being honest, with both yourself and your bandmates; and sometimes that means the best thing for your band is to find new mates.

First off Mr. Dave I am very sorry for never seeing this. I just randomly happened to see it in recent posts made while browsing. You are a very good writer and had a very interesting story to tell. I must admit some of the story near the end I skimmed but all the first entries about your dad and that jam room were quite interesting. his song was actually really good, I enjoyed it alot, would definitely be interested in hearing some more if you have any. Also your footage was cool as well. Unfortunately the quality of the camera was awful so I dont think I got a very good judge of the atmosphere, sure seemed like a good light show though by the look of it.

Secondly I can relate to so many of the points you have made about jamming with friends whether they be close or not. The problem is my friends always seem way to interested in JUST jamming. While I love that and a live performance is often half that, you need something of substance so you can have an excuse to play in front of people. Sure we did a few small shows and whatnot but never grew into anything more because they were never willing to put the time in to sit down and learn parts and make it sound remotely clean.

That is why I have wanted to go to college for the last 4 years. You seem to have had a good time meeting people who wanted to make music with you and that lived pretty close to you. What would you suggest doing regarding finding new people to play with. Im currently working and dont go to school so not many people around me play anything seriously. Just confused as to how to seek out people who would like to start seriously jamming now that I have a house thats perfect for it.

Again great journal keep it going, and im sorry it took me almost 5 months to get to it!

Thanks, appreciate it. I don't expect any/everyone to follow it, and certainly not those who have journals already. It's sort of like you say in your following piece: it doesn't have to do anything, it just is. It's not a set of rules, or even advice really, just a few guidelines, a hand reaching out in the dark, as it were, grasping the "newbie"'s groping digits and helping to lead them a little way into the light. But then, the hand lets go and where they end up afterwards is their affair.

I'm not here to tell people how they should write journals. I'm absolutely not here to write people's journals for them, and I don't particularly want anyone copying my style.

I'm just here to give a little help.

Sometimes that's all that's needed, yes? :)

PS anyone who wants to can of course chime in with comments or additions any time: it's not exclusively my guide. I just started it.

It’s all good, thanks for the positive feedback haha (and TrollHeart as well). To be honest I don’t expect that many people to read it all. It’s as much of an opportunity for me to either clear out or reorganize a bunch of the crap in my head as anything else. That whole Baltimore can of worms was never supposed to be that long; I didn’t realize how deep that rabbit hole still happened to be hahaha. Also, considering one of my main recurring statements is “There’s far more to music than just the sounds you hear” it shouldn’t be too surprising that I see a Jam Room as a metaphor for the human psyche as much as a dirty room filled with amps in the back of a warehouse. Glad you enjoyed the clips hehe (and yeah, it was an AWESOME light show hahaha, I figure about 100 people in attendance).

I’m going to address your comment backwards because the next bit goes all Led Zep (Ramble On!) Don’t think that I’m discouraging you from going to school for a second, but please have a better reason than just wanting to meet new people and stuff. Meeting people and finding people to jam with is almost a given in college / uni, the one thing you might have a bit of a hassle with is being seen as an ‘old’ guy. It took me a jam or two to warm up to playing with people in their 30s when I was in my 20s mainly due to my lack of experience with dealing with that level of age difference as equals. Even if you’re only in your mid-20s, the fact that you’d be surrounded by people who were still in high school a few months ago and you weren’t makes you appear ‘old / grown up’ in a lot of their eyes.

As for finding people to play with, I wouldn’t necessarily advertise the fact that I have a jam house right off the bat because it’s a bit of a kick-me sign for getting your place robbed. What’s your local scene like? Facebook groups for bars / venues that normally host live music? Out here there’s a general local message board, but it’s mainly amateur, if you want to step up or at least start trying you need to get involved with FB groups. Also, even if you’re not a student it doesn’t mean you can’t put a notice on school bulletin boards that you’re looking for musicians. Specify as much information as you can when you’re soliciting as well; that you want to start a gigging band, that you have a rehearsal space, what sort of style you’re hoping from the other musicians. It’s no fun for anyone to look for a metal singer but never specifying whether or not you want a Rob Halford screaming type or some black metal growler, right?

Your second point in regards to jamming and the purpose of performance is spot on and something I actually discussed at length with my cousin last week. He went the opposite direction than what I did and is actually involved with two proper working bands. I find it interesting to look back as well since both of our fathers played music, but his never had the same level of success as mine.

Ultimately we came to the conclusion that as a musician or any sort of performer you NEED to be able to recognize the raison d’etre of a stage and respect it. That doesn’t mean you can’t be an improvisational freak out band, but you still need to accept that if you’re on a stage you have to respect and entertain the crowd. The point of being on a stage is to showcase some sort of performance for the crowd. The big mistake I used to, and a lot of idealistic amateur musicians continue to make, is ignoring the crowd, they don’t want to ‘sell out’ by appealing to the masses so they perform for the sake of their own ego (but holy crap dude don’t ever call them out on that while they’re drinking or you’re going to have a seriously pissy temper tantrum on your hands).

Something else we discussed was the lack of people playing music for the simple fun of it. When we were kids he could have named 10-15 places back home where he could be guaranteed to find some kind of live music every weekend (their living room was one of those places). Nothing major or earth shattering, but you knew if you went to buddy’s house on Saturday afternoon there would be a few people jamming with acoustics, and if you went to dude’s cottage that evening there would be a different group of people busting it out on theirs as well. At this point, he’s hard pressed to find one spot when we go back home where he can be guaranteed there will be live music.

There’s something to be said for economic downturns and an aging population especially in rural areas but I don’t think the lack of jobs and increase in old people is necessarily causing a decline in music so much as a shift in cultural attitudes and expectations due to technological innovation. On one hand technology has changed the face of live music, DJs who play ‘gigs’ with just an iPod, on the other it seems less and less people just play for fun. It seems to me that we, as a culture, did more with less, before we had all those technological distractions we were forced to spend our time doing other things and developing various skills and abilities based on those hobbies. Back then ‘showing off’ was a reflection of your talents, today ‘showing off’ is about displaying your material possessions.

As a result of that technological shift it seems that there's far less opportunity for 3-4 good musicians to entertain a crowd of a few hundred as opposed to a few hundred melodic geeks entertaining groups of 3-4 people everywhere via their phones. That semi-professional middle ground between garage grade amateurs and international superstars has become very eroded over the last few decades to the point where it's become an undeniable concern. I'm not saying the sky is falling and that this shift is the death of good music, but at the same time it's hardly an encouraging direction for society to be moving towards in regards to the arts.

Dang, I didn’t expect this response to be this long hahaha

Communication Breakdown!!!
 

Is there really anything that needs to be said about that tune? Proto-metal, butt kicking hard rock at its finest that still gets borrowed from today. I know I mentioned deconstructing the songs I’d post with a thread but at this point they’re becoming thematic accompaniments to the core ideas I feel like posting about. I figure I’ll do a collective retrospective deconstruction when I run out of stuff to blab about. This time around I’m still going to go off about band based communication.

There are five main points I want to address:

Introspection
Clarity
Tone
The Power of First Impressions
Professionalism

Ultimately a band is a group effort, but the first level of communication has to be internal. Ideally any potential musician should have already taken the time to sit back and contemplate the big questions about their lives, their goals, and their music. The big challenge is being truly honest with yourself, and then being capable of clearly communicating that to your band mates. What I notice most is that a lot of people are hung up on external validation, they don’t want to potentially upset or offend others, which seems nice, but if you’re lying to yourself to please someone else you’re just delaying an inevitable breakdown. Unfortunately (or fortunately) there’s no shortcut to enlightenment, it’s not like there’s an actual endpoint anyway. In my own case it only took me, oh… 15 years to figure out and acknowledge the most underlying issue within my music.

The other big challenge is admitting to yourself that you feel differently than how you want to think. Your conscious mind is something you have direct control over, your emotions and especially your gut instinct, not so much. Yet it’s one of those things where we seem to be conditioned by society and mass media to believe the opposite, that because we have control over our conscious mind we should also be able to establish direct control over other intangible aspects of our being. To an extent that’s definitely true, tempering your emotions is a very useful skill, but a proper application of that ability requires the recognition of those emotions as being uncontrolled elements applying influence to your being.

So once you’ve done your introspective soul searching and found your peace of mind it’s a matter of finding the words necessary to express it in an undeniably clear way to your band members. Good luck – especially if one or more band mates are not ready, far enough, or flat out refuse, to do their own introspection. Worse case is you have a complacent personality in the group who just says what they anticipate the others want to hear; which just leads to tension and resentment. Then you run into the classic conundrum of ‘Do I keep a band with my friend, or try with some random dudes’. From a technical standpoint if you have to choose between a virtuoso with a bad attitude or your buddy who can’t play more than power chord riffs – choose your buddy – they’ll eventually develop greater technique. On the other hand if you’re trying to start a band for a specific purpose and you’ve established a clear vision for yourself and your friends are simply trying to coddle rather than truly support, then the randoms might be better options; especially if the intentions are clearly communicated from the start, even if it might end up feeling like a weird employer / employee relationship.

Tone is something I get comments on - ALL THE TIME. How many times have I been called condescending on this site? How many times have people complained that they feel I’m talking down to them, I consider it more from the side, perpendicular perspectives or something. But there’s a reason for it, and its how I choose to communicate through the written word. Based on that choice and the fact that I normally choose to make broader generalized comments, it’s created a particular reputation. Whether completely accurate or not is irrelevant, I don’t have control over how other people interpret my words, same as I have no control over how listeners hear my music. As a result I need to be able to accept that the majority of people will not always see things the same way, but more significantly, my own personal feelings on the matter are generally irrelevant to their interpretations of the ideas I present. At that point I have the choice of being accepting of the new feedback or I can let myself take it personally and get defensive. The positivity or negativity of the new perspective shouldn’t become a factor in my own reaction. One of my old jobs explained it best – we only had to address the concerns within the letter, never the tone – so if someone raged for 2 pages about how evil we were because of a late fee, all we address in the reply was the late fee.

As lame as it seems, first impressions count for a lot. How you choose to present yourself and the attitude with which you do so will have a lasting effect on how your peers see you and your reputation in your local scene. The choice ultimately resides within the individual, but unlike the inability to control how listeners react to your music, the reputation of a band or its individual musicians is very much a controllable element within the group. I’m not saying every band should hire a PR person or have a member with a proper marketing background, but at the same time a little knowledge from those domains will not compromise the integrity of any artist’s work (same as some basic small business / entrepreneurship knowledge).

And that brings this entry to my final point. Professionalism. Ultimately if you want to be taken seriously outside of the circle of family and friends who’d rather lie to your face than bruise your ego, you don’t necessarily need to be a pro, but you need to be able to act like one. Copping any sort of attitude with a promoter or bar staff will get you moved to the bottom of the list of potential bands or straight up black listed. Being ignorant or rude to fellow musicians in your scene for whatever reason will limit your opportunities to perform. Ultimately, any sort of drama allowed to be recognized by the public will diminish your possibility of success, however you chose to define it.

That reminds me of a story...



----
(I’m pretty sure I’ve posted it elsewhere on the site before but whatever)

Back in the warehouse days, sometime around late 2006 I imagine, we were in the middle of our regular Friday night super freak out shenanigan and taking a little smoke break. The only other band in the warehouse was some punk outfit in a room across the way on the 2nd level. We can hear them struggling with the start of a song. From the sound of things the singer also plays guitar, he’s counting it off then playing at a slightly different speed. EVERY time. We can hear him starting to flip out and get belligerent with his band mates. So we decide to turn the screws a bit more, 2-3-4 we kick into their riff, and proceed to smoke it.

Two years later I’m starting a new job and working with this dude sporting a big green Mohawk and we get to talking tunes pretty quickly. We live in a relatively small town, ran in relatively insular circles, and sure enough, we’d both had jam rooms in that same warehouse. So I start telling him about that particular evening and he start ROARING. He’s laughing so hard he’s almost out of his chair.

DUDE! That was us!

Apparently the band was first and foremost about being a dirty drunk street punk. Drinking was the focal point of pretty much everything. It might be shocking to learn the band imploded shortly thereafter. The main guy apparently stiffed a few of the other dudes their fair share of the record they’d all paid to have produced and pressed.

Also the dude apparently completely lost it when we started out playing their riff, I think it ended their night before they were able to get through their first song hahaha But with the way they communicated within their unit, it was never going to amount to anything anyway.

Dang, Dave. Awesome last few posts. Your writing is fantastic, and you life experiences awkward/tragic, but make for a great story. You need to write a book.

Yeah, I'll second that. You could teach this "band dynamic" stuff! Lecture tours? $500 a time? Think about it... :)

Thanks dude (and Trollheart), but the last thing I'll do is make a go at commercial success. The next one is going to be whiny.

I'm sorry!
 

I am the lobbed j!zz.

This past month has been rather substantial for me, I started a new 9-5 Monday to Friday job after working graveyard shift for the past 4 years last week, I coincidentally decided to stopped smoking weed a few days before finding out I had the job, and earlier in the month I got to enjoy the sound of a really old skeleton from my closet clattering its way to the forefront of my psyche.

So yeah, 2-3 weeks ago I walked into my kitchen to make dinner and notice there’s a message on the phone, I hit the button in hopes it was about a job, instead I get this…

Oui, Allo? J’appelle pour David LastName, le fils de Parent’s Names . Si c’est bien toi je suis Liz – aka the slut my father left us for j’aimerai bien te voir, j’ai parler avec ta soeur il y a quelque mois, je suis en ville et si tu veux me contacter…. blah, blah-blah, blah-blah.

Pardon the grammatical errors in my French; it’s been a while, but… yeah. The last time I’d heard her voice was a good 25 years ago when I was around 10. When my little sister got married last Summer we found out that she’d found her on Facebook and contacted her. My sister dealt with things differently and being that Liz was only 20 when it all went down back in 1981 I think she saw her more like a really cool older sister type person when we’d visit our father during Summer break, especially considering they worked in the entertainment industry and had to stay hip and fashionable. Either way she had her on Facebook and we all got to see what she looked like now and got banal details about the last 20 years of her life, married, works for an airline (hence being housed overnight at a hotel in town when she called – incidentally right around the corner from where I live). It was more of a ‘so yeah check this out’ as opposed to a ‘oh look at how she’s done’ thing.

She left her number in the message and asked that I text her or something, I’ve never even had a cell phone, never mind a smart phone, I was going to try sending something to her phone through email but then I had to reboot my internet connection and accidentally deleted the answering machine message when I flipped the power bar. It’s probably for the best.

On one hand I wouldn’t have minded getting in touch with her, but deep down I know not a single one of those useless f*cks would ever own up to their sh!t. The last time I talked to my uncle he ‘Didn’t remember that particular band’s name’. My paternal grandmother has dementia and I’d be the monster if I ever called her out on being a proto-Kris Jenner who’d screw over her grandkids to protect her family’s destiny to be publicly celebrated. My father did finally admit to having made ‘mistakes’ in the past but we were in the middle of a road trip and I just kind of tanked the subject because I didn’t want to risk flipping out and becoming stranded on the side of a highway. I mean really, it would hurt his feelings if I flipped out at the fact that he chose to screw over his family for pussy.

They will sum it all up in a sentence
A verdict made by those who know
I'm ready to make a commitment
I'm willing to make love to concrete

The fact that it still bothers me is entirely my fault. It’s always been my fault. There have always been plenty of kids out there who had it worse; I should be ashamed for even trying to talk about it.

That’s the verdict that got fed to me from every side while growing up. Everyone knew the details, not a single one of them ever came clean, not on my father’s side, nor my mother’s. Fact is, whether you’re drowning in a puddle or in the middle of an ocean you’re still drowning and if you can’t find the surface then it doesn’t matter how deep it is you still need help. My well meaning Aunt who was always the first to tell us we could talk to her about anything has yet to grasp this simple concept.

The first bit was only ever spoken once, by my mom about 6 months after it all broke apart. I don’t blame her, especially not now that I’m older than she was and can honestly try putting myself in those shoes. I figure it was close to her own birthday in March (the split happened in November), I remember being in the living room and trying to clean up with my little sister. I remember wearing my cowboy boots that were starting to squeeze my toes a bit too much and realizing it meant I was growing and becoming a bigger boy – something that often got stressed whenever my father left (While I’m gone you’re the man of the house and you need to help take care of your mom and little sister). I remember it was a dismal day, cloudy and pissing rain. I remember my mom in the kitchen making dinner and stressing out because we needed to get the place clean before my father arrived for dinner (he still wanted to be part of ‘our’ family, but wanted to maintain ‘his’ life on the side).

I don’t remember what triggered it, probably just being too slow at picking up the toys but she flipped, she started screaming at us then let out ‘YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR DAD LEFT!?!?! HE LEFT BECAUSE YOU’RE BAD KIDS! THAT’S WHY HE LEFT! NOW I’M GOING TO LEAVE TOO!!!’ then she grabbed her purse and walked out.

I remember standing in the living room, my mind racing, if I could keep my little sister calm we could be fine until my father arrived later in the afternoon then I could explain to him what happened and he’d fix things. She didn’t stay calm. She started bawling and ran to the door, once she started I couldn’t help but follow. My mom only made it to the end of the driveway. I don’t blame her for any of it, she was forced into a horrible situation and snapped. She hates the fact that it happened too, but it did.

My skin is a layer of soot
I'm spending my days scrubbing
I'm trying so hard to act like nothing happened(no one left to blame)
I'm trying so hard to find that fresh clean smell(no one left to blame)

It was like drowning in sh!t, while everyone around me kept telling me I was special and good and everything was fine and that it wasn’t sh!t it was chocolate. If it was really chocolate why did they always keep me at arm’s length and handled with gloves? I’d been conditioned to ignore the obvious for so long that when my late uncle (the one who took me Strat shopping for my 19th b-day) found out the truth he went behind his wife’s back (the well meaning Aunt) and tried to address it directly with me. I remember a kind of WTF? Look of shock in his face when I reassured him everything was OK and that it was all fine. Just act like nothing happened and be good and things will fall back into place eventually.

Later in life I’d always get comments like “So where’s your girlfriend Dave? / Why don’t you have a girlfriend Dave?” It took me a while to articulate my answer but it eventually became – You can only burn something so much before all you’re left with is a handful of ashes. I’m 35, I’ve had like 2 relationships if you count that insanity in Baltimore as anything. The other used me as a rebound Summer fling that, come to find out, was also getting me to sex her up the same way her uncle used to do her when she was a little girl.

I don’t even consider the possibility of dating anymore.

Cruel words sleep above me
Mounting and teasing

This is the other reason I’d consider talking to Liz. I want to be able to sleep without raging either when I'm trying to fall asleep or as I'm waking up. The drug abuse did help in the early days but all it really did was obscure the devils and demons with fog. They were always still there in the back of my head, the clattering of the skeletons could still be heard through the coughing fits, free to enjoy the pleasure of their sins and half-truths while all the guilt was filtered back onto my shoulders. And all the while the only thought going through my head…

I’M SORRY!

sssssssoooooOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!

I hate that that happened to you, and can relate in far more ways than I wish I could.

And you aren't whining, you're just telling it how it is... and how it is isn't always pretty. I think if you're still alive you're doing better than you think you are, and I encourage you to keep kicking life's ass.

Best of luck to you. And as always, great writing.

By the way, I freaking love your ocean and puddle analogy. It's getting sigged.

Holy crap man, you've certainly had a tough time! Hope the music helped get you through it, and that you're (sort of) over it now, though of course that sort of pain never really goes away; we just bury it and hope we'll not have occasion to dig it up again. But like all things hidden away it does eventually come back to haunt us, and there's no escaping your past. I know this from personal experience. When my father dies (let it be soon!) I will bring only one thing to his graveside: my dancing shoes.

I didn't get the message on the phone: not good with French. Was the woman asking you to meet her? Do you think she was going to try to explain things to you, or did she just want absolution, as many of these people do?

You really need to write a book; if it's too personal you can always change the names and situations, but this is deep stuff. You're one hell of a writer, Dave!

Thanks for the positive comments as always (both you and Blarobbarg)

As for the phone message it didn't go into details basically what she said is she'd like to get in touch, either meet up or text, and that she'd been in contact with my sister (through Facebook). I really don't know what her motives were.

I wasn't planning to shift my writing style with that FNM track but I think it worked nicely so I'm going to take the easy way out and repeat it (ironically with their public 'nemesis' haha).

Redemption?
 

Soul to Squeeze was recorded during the Blood Sugar Sex Magik sessions, yet for whatever reason was not included on the album. Personally, I think it would have been a much better inclusion than ‘I Could Have Lied’ but whatever. It was included as a B-side to later versions of the ‘Give It Away’ single as well as ‘Under the Bridge’, but the song didn’t become a (unexpected) hit until it was released as a promotional video for The Coneheads movie. I also don’t understand why the Chili Peppers don’t make their official lyrics available to the public but again, whatever.

I've got a bad disease
But from my brain is where I bleed
Insanity it seems
Has got me by my soul to squeeze

That 2nd line seems wrong to me, the other common lyric is ‘Up from my brain is where I bleed’. I’ve always heard it as ‘Out from my brain is where I bleed’. Either way it seems rather obviously written to be about mental illness and/or depression. In a way the song also reminds me of Nirvana’s Lithium which also deals with finding solace within you. One of the toughest realizations I’ve made within myself is that the hand that held the whip to bind me to servitude was my own; the ‘want’ of my ego would trample the ‘need’ of my soul. Yet, without the ‘want’ we become stagnant, the ego is a fundamental aspect of our being and while it shouldn’t be ignored it also shouldn’t become the dominating aspect of our minds.

Drawing a parallel from the ‘want’ of the ego to the superficial and self-centered nature of the modern mainstream entertainment industry seems pretty obvious to me now, couple that with the adulating worship from so many within the listening public and it becomes clear why there seems to be so much crap on the pop charts. It’s as though our society is a reflection of the dominant voice of the collective ego of our species within particular cultures; and at this point the bulk of our culture seems to be about wanting anything without needing to accept the full responsibility or cost, but I digress.

Today love smiled on me
It took away my pain said please
All that you had to free
You gotta let it be oh yeah

I’m sure everyone has heard the old adage about how a person can’t really love another before they can love themselves. For me a big part of that was accepting my imperfections, or harder still, accepting my normalcy and the fact that we all feel hope and fear and love and pain and hurt and happiness in similar ways. The other challenge was the loss of familiarity, when the negativity is such a major element of your mental state it’s kind of terrifying to consider a clean slate, I guess that also explains why so many people end up in vicious cycles and why so many of us choose to abuse ourselves.

I think my subconscious desire to break that cycle I think is one of the main reasons I approached music the way I did during my 20s. In retrospect my drummer and I both saw it as therapy. The raw improvisation allowed us a cathartic release that we didn’t really see other avenues to approach from. While it didn’t always result in the most listenable music for people outside the group, it did provide us with a modicum of solace from our own internal struggles, and ultimately therapy is not for the primary benefit of others.

Oh, so polite indeed
Well I got everything I need.
Oh make my days a breeze
And take away my self destruction

I don’t believe in absolutes, everything is relative to the perspective of the individual considering the situation; right and wrong are simply reflections of the emotional reaction from the moral balance within the individual. It felt like a massive weight releasing from my head once I first grasped that realization a few years ago and marked a significant decline in suicidal thoughts and urges. That’s not to say I don’t still have bad days but it’s no longer a constant. In a sense it was a mental release of the pain I felt physically throughout the majority of my childhood, there’s still some residual frustration that I’m trying to free but I can definitely see light at the end of the tunnel now.

The sobriety I mentioned last time hasn’t really taken hold as much as I had anticipated or hoped. I’m using the excuse of wanting to cap off the work day with a puff after dinner, after a few weeks without I also realize I don’t need ‘that’ much. The new job isn’t stressful per se but at the same time it’s not without ‘room for improvement’, on the other hand the nature of the job also makes it that I’m far less inclined to want to sit in front of my computer so I’ve been picking up my guitar a lot more. This track happens to be one of the few I’ve learned recently, I never was able to find the tab for it back in the day (or really listen to it aside from the radio for that particular Summer).

Where I go I just don't know
I might end up somewhere in Mexico
When I find my peace of mind
I'm gonna keep it for the end of time

For a long time I thought peace of mind and happiness were fallacies by weak people who lied to themselves about the nature of their reality. I’ve also come to realize I used to be a prick. But like anything else saying it is easier than doing it, or in this case not doing it. Peace in my mind requires a balance. When I had substantial revelations about myself it would result in a momentary achievement of that balance, but in time the weight would invariably shift, the focus would be lost and the cycle would repeat. The difference being I’ve started being able to see the cycle, I can’t quite recognize its full shape yet; then again it’s never quite the same thing twice. One thing I am noticing is that the variance is diminishing and some semblance of balance presents itself more often. I guess what it really means is there are still a few issues to be addressed before the last door opens and I get to step out into the light.

Someday.

Dave,
I'm constantly amazed and humbled by the power of your writing. You write like I expect many an analyst or psychiatrist would kill to be able to: you can break down complex problems, be they social, political, musical or personal, into their component parts and sort out the jigsaw in a way that lets others see a picture they were previously unaware was even there.

Someone with your insight could easily be a leader of a cult, though in a good way of course. You should perhaps consider renaming this journal "The temple of Dave" or something... :D

Seriously, it's always a pleasure to read your material and it's the sort of thing we don't see here in this mostly music-obsessed forum, but great to see someone constantly stepping outside the boundaries and exploring, or to paraphrase Captain Kirk, "boldly going where no-one has gone before."

Keep it up.

You ARE the Universe.

TH

I have to dissagree with that. I could Have Lied is one of the more beautiful songs I have ever heard. Fruciantes simple solo is absolutely perfect for that song and place on the album. It was actually one of the first songs I ever learned on guitar too.

This was a great post, dave, and it expresses my feelings as to why I more or less stopped trying to start bands and "make it big". Personally I know that I'm not the type of person who has that strict business-like mindset, and quite honestly I don't really want to get that. That being said, I do wish you luck with your pursuit, even if it isn't the most serious of ventures.

Really, I'm kicking myself for not knowing you had a Journal and not subscribing to it sooner! :bonkhead: