Instead of posting a song for January, I thought I'd continue elaborating on some of the lyrics from "Would You Take a Bullet For Me." The lyric "if you got brain damaged in an accident" is about a girl I dated freshman year in high school. After going on several dates, I started falling in love and I guess I started to come on too strong because she broke up with me. I was devastated, as any dumped fourteen year old would be. Then she got in a terrible car accident that left her in a coma. The coma lasted many, many months and I gave up on her chances of returning to consciousness. At first, her closest friends and I would visit the hospital to look at her, but eventually I stopped visiting.

After several months of her coma, I considered her dead and gone. I grieved her death with friends. These were emotions unlike I had ever experienced before. I felt needy. There were lots of hugs. Sometimes her best friend and I would just lie on a couch in each other's arms. That tenderness eventually left me in love with her best friend, who cared for me but also felt pretty mixed up about the situation. I got dumped again. I wrote lots of bad poetry. My parents worried. But eventually I regained my good cheer and moved on. Months passed. In high school so much happens in a month it feels like a novel's worth of intrigue. There were parties, crushes, music jams, outrageous events, hilarious hijinks. Life went on.

Then one day, to everyone's surprise, she woke up from her coma. She had brain damage that affected her motor skills, her ability to talk, her ability to learn, and her memory. She was soon able to communicate using a touch board that resembled a speak and spell. And she would ask about me, ask to see me. It soon became clear that she didn't remember dumping me. She had no memory of the four or five days before the accident.

Visiting her in the hospital was awkward. It should have been a joyous thing, that she was alive and conscious, but the person she had become bared little resemblance to the girl I had dated. Before, she had been very shy. Now, her emotions were childlike and exaggerated. Her face was fallen on one side and her mouth was usually open, drooling. She was disabled now, with only one arm that worked well, and she couldn't control her tongue accurately, so when she talked it was jibberish to me, although the nurse seemed to understand some of what she said. And she was crazy in love with me! She acted like a little girl might act expressing love for Justin Bieber. I would visit her in small groups, usually with other high school friends and some adults and a nurse, and she would type "I love Brandon" into her spelling board and then squeal and giggle while I tried to connect to this person who, in honesty, I hadn't even dated long enough to know very well, and who was now completely different.

I was fourteen and I couldn't handle it. I stopped visiting. Eventually, everyone stopped visiting, except for her best friend, who really stood by her.

I've tried to make excuses for why it is understandable that I wasn't generous enough to continue to be there for her during her recuperation, why I wasn't interested in staying friends with a mentally disabled version of a girl I had once romantically desired, especially cast, as I was, as the fictional boyfriend. But truth is, I still feel guilty about it. I wish that I had possessed enough empathy to play that role and support her as she tried to recover. Instead, life returned to normal for me, and the rest of high school was pretty damn fun. It never returned to normal for her.

PART ONE: (more to come...)

Once, back in high school, I almost watched my best friend get his brains bashed in.

I was walking with a bunch of friends, I think it was maybe four guys and two girls. We were wandering through a neighborhood none of us lived in, heading to the Mississippi River. I was really into Dungeons and Dragons type fantasy stuff all through childhood, and at some point I found a big 8 foot stick (a bo-staff!) and was twirling it over my head like I was a fighter/wizard. We were all sort of geeky, but some of the other guys were on this Anarchy! Punk Rock! kick, so they were dressed in combat boots and ratty clothes. Gabe was dressed up like Robert Smith from the Cure, I think it took him a half hour to leave the house, he was in a black trench coat with combat boots, and a wide, flat-rimmed black hat (kind of a Goth thing at the time) and he had lipstick on. Imagine Napolean Dynamite, John Cusack from Say Anything, Robert Smith and Jello Biafra hanging out and pretending to have swords.

Now picture us, a gang of misfits, cresting this hill, with our funny walks, and me swinging this enormous bo-staff ungracefully around my head. And at the bottom of the hill is a neighborhood baseball diamond with a game in play, high school age kids.

The game actually came to an abrupt stop when the athletes saw us, because they couldn't help themselves. We were irresistable targets for ridicule. And the insults began to fly. Some of them actually started to hurl rocks.

We reached the side of the diamond and began walking past. My response was to stop twirling and just become small and not say anything and hope I survived. Gabe, however, was into this whole punk rock confrontative thing, and suddenly yells out, in a British accent a la Sid Vicious, "Fuck Yeeooooooouuuuu" and gives them the finger.

Now it only seemed fair that we should be able to hurl obscenities back, but for some reason this broke the rules of engagement or something, and in my recollection, time suddenly slowed down as I noticed that both baseball teams were suddenly sprinting towards us with faces full of rage. Surprised, we just sort of stood there, and soon we were surrounded. The ringleader of the aggression had a metal bat in his hand, and started pushing Gabe around. He knocked off Gabe's hat with one hand, and then pushed his head down, knocking him to the ground and chipping his tooth. The circle of athletes jeered and laughed but the ringleader was seriously enraged, his face was red, and he was scary as hell holding a bat in one hand.

He raised the bat. Gabe stood up, not saying anything. The ringleader prepared to swing. A cool icy fear tingled through me as I realized I was completely powerless to help and we were terribly outnumbered.

Fortunately nothing terrible happened. Some of the ringleader's friends, grasping the seriousness of the situation, grabbed the bat right as he was about to swing, and intervened, with a chorus of whoa, take it easies, and the circle of onlookers closed around the enraged guy, and allowed us to slip away unharmed, hearts racing.

And that's when I learned that, if I ever found myself in a brawl, faced with the choice to defend my friends, take some hits, stick up for my tribe and whatnot, or do nothing, I would stand right there along side my friends... and, um... do nothing.

Listen to 'Would You Take a Bullet for Me' on You Tube

Lyrics

Downloadable version (right click)

I wrote this song for my friend Kate's 28th birthday. At the time, she was finishing law school, with an interest in making the world a better place, a disposition for which she was ridiculed by many of the other law students, who called her a "do-gooder" and laughed about how it was better to just use the law to get rich, especially in light of the debt they were all accumulating. I didn't have a present for her, so I whipped this song up at the last minute on the train. Later, I brought the song to Dan Cantor and he got some of his friends to come in and play some jazz licks over the track. I was always fond of the Inevitable Squirrel Nut Zippers, the Asylum Street Spankers, Brian Setzer, and the Wiyos, and all those other retro self-aware bands that staged a swing revival about a decade ago. Feel free to sing this song to any Kates or Nates you know who are turning 8, or 28, or 38, or maybe a Bree (Whoopee!) who's turning 23 or 33, or a Christine who's turning 13-19 (Have you seen Christine? I hear she's turning 17). You'll have to probably rewrite the law school part.

Listen to Kate, That's Great

Nov. 1 2011

The Southeast U.S. Frontalot tour kicks off in Austin TX on October 21st. Dates: here.
In honor of my favorite bald rapper, I bring you my version of Indier Than Thou.

|| Lyrics to this version || original lyrics to the MC Frontalot version ||

Showed this at the Paramount Theater in Seattle after the MC Frontalot show. Definitely not safe for work: Here's the MP3 if you'd like just the audio.

The new album is here! And ready for your consumption. I'll be posting one song from the album every month until I run out and need to write new songs again. But, gentle reader, thou art no cheapskate! I am certain you will take personal pride in voluntarily purchasing your very own hard copy or digital download in the store.

For this month I bring you the last song on the album, the song that shares the album's title:

How I Allegedly Bit a Man in Gloucestershire

The song tells the true story of how I got into life threatening mischief one drunken evening in the UK. At least, I believe it's a true story. The details are all from eyewitness reports. I don't remember a thing.

Some of you know that I played bass for Futureboy in the UK, so let me clear up any confusion. The events in this song happened long before that, on a different trip. It was all because of Joe Bennett, one half of the brother duo that created the Truck Music Festival. I chronicled our fateful meeting in an earlier entry about his violin playing. That entry includes more true stories about devastating floods, and naked bathtub a capella. It was a special trip.

In this song I also mention a different song by Danny Wilson that gets me all wound up and drives me to drink. That song can be found here. Great tune.

How I Allegedly Bit a Man in Gloucestershire was performed live at Genghis Cohen in Los Angeles as part of Jukebox Stories. The sound guy gave me a mixdown to a stereo file. Later, when I started to record the album, I couldn't capture the vibe of it without a real audience. I didn't know what to do. This recording is the odd solution I came up with. The stereo file of the live performance was... okayyy, but I kept wandering off the microphone when I was singing, and the guitar was really thin sounding because it was recorded through the bridge pickup rather than miked. Also, the levels were inconsistent, and there was drum machine all over everything, mixed too loud. My solution? I doubled the entire vocal, trying to learn the exact phrasing of the original. I also did this with the guitar part. The resulting mix has doubled vocal and doubled guitar. It's a strange effect, but trust me, the other version was unuseable. I like to pretend that it's some weird ambience in the room. A couple friends asked me to turn down the chorus fx on the guitar when they heard the mix, but surprise! That's no fx plugin. It's just my attempt to make a bad live recording listenable. Still, if you can get used to it, the song comes across, and there really was some magic that night with the audience. The kind of magic you can't recreate.

I can't wait to share the rest of the songs on this album with you. They are not live recordings (except for Ketchup and Mayo, already posted previously). They sound frikkin awesome, like sharks with frikkin laser beams.

ALSO! I am going on tour, look out world. Aug 12 - Nov. 12, doing an opening set for MC Frontalot. Dates, times: here. (I'm not on the UK shows. Playing bass for Jonathan Coulton then.)

Aug. 7th, 2011

After visiting Prince in L.A. and then watching Pork Chop's latest video go viral, I had to add my own contribution. So I watched every episode of "Weighing Pork Chop" on YouTube and put together a little tribute to the world's most adorable (and tolerant)
19 pound cat. I also stumbled on hundreds of other cat videos of course. Man, there are a lot of cat videos. I can only hope that, someday, this song gets ranked just under "Cat People" by Shaffer the Dark Lord in some top ten list for songs about cats.

And here's the link for just the song audio:
Walking For Kisses mp3

July 25, 2011

Prince Gomolvilas, the storytelling half of Jukebox Stories, lives with a cat that is blowing up on the internet. This video of "Pork Chop" doing a little ritual called "Walking For Kisses" has been carried by the Huffington Post and AOL's front page. But the true genius of this piece was the camera man (ahem - that was me.) Over 150,000 views as of mid July! You go, Pork Chop. Get your 15 minutes.

July 14, 2011

Many years ago, when I lived in California, my girlfriend at the time got a job offer in New York City to work for a TV show. But accepting the offer meant she had to move to New York City almost immediately. For me, it was as if she had been living with me and then suddenly disappeared.

Listen to: My Girlfriend Was Kidnapped by Aliens.

Living in New York City is a bit of an adjustment when you are used to wide open spaces, laid back, friendly people, and nude hot tubbing. Parking your car, for instance, can be a real trial. I could've written a whole 'nother song called My Automobile Got Abducted By Aliens.

6 Tips to Protect Your Automobile From Abduction:

1. Never park in the last space before a fire hydrant, there's no way to know if a parking cop will decide you are too close to the hydrant zone.

2. Never park anywhere where there is a pole with no sign on it. Parking cops will fine you based on what the missing sign said.

3. Give special attention to the signs. If there is any possibility that the sign has been bent or vandalized, assume that it is pointing in the wrong direction and can't be trusted.

4. If your fancy automatic side mirrors get stolen, replace them with a cheaper, crappier model or they will just get stolen again.

5. If you find a rare street in an industrial area that has no street cleaning, don't leave your car there for several weeks unless you want it to get stolen.

6. Do you REALLY need a car in New York City? Probably not.

As you can tell, some of the thinly veiled fictions in this song are based on truth.

June 3, 2011

(art installation by Yayoi Kusama)

A rumination on dots.

How things that are far away become dots, like stars, or people's heads viewed from an airplane. The relativity of observation.

Things we need microscopes to see, or things we can't even really "see" but we know are there. How there are dots where you least expect them.

We connect the dots. When is there ever just one dot? There are many dots. They interact. They merge, they multiply.

Stars collide. Cells divide.

I thought I would write a song about dots, partly inspired by Mike Cantor's Hot Velcro Action videos. But in the end, all this imagery in my head of movement and merging just led me back to love. I was planning to propose to my girlfriend when I wrote this. I started thinking about the two of us as little dots in space trying to find each other. Or the millions of molecules inside us yearning to merge. The dots that are her eyes. (And the dots in her eyes!) And other dots that only I get to see.

Listen to Freckle
(if clicking here doesn't work, right-click to download and listen with your own software)

I recorded it at Notable Studio with Dan Cantor in April and by that time I was fixated on "dive-bomb sounds." (On the demo, I simulated them with my mouth. I sounded like a little kid playing with a toy plane.) I think MIke's falling velcro-dots reminded me a little of the video game Caterpillar, with all those falling bugs leaving behind dots. Dan and I played around with synthesizers and protools plug-ins, but we also had a lucky one-take moment with me playing slide on a bass guitar with distortion, and Dan holding up this adjustable tuner to the bass pickups and rotating a pitch wheel.

May 2011

Determining someone's sexual preference can be a tricky art. Get it wrong, and you're likely to offend. This song goes out to all those girls who get mistaken for dykes because they aren't girly enough.

Listen to 'Patti Likes Guys'
(if clicking here doesn't work, right-click to download and listen on your own software)

This song, like Firecracker, was co-written with Stephen O'Rourke as part of the rock musical Love Sucks: A Punk Rock Musical. Patti, lead singer of an all girl punk rock band called the Guttersnipes, has convinced the rest of her band members to make a pact that they will never sleep with a guy more than three times. But everyone except Patti falls in love, and wants to retract the rule. Their plan? Try and get Patti together with Big Joe, the lead singer of the Molotovs, in the hopes that if they get all mooshy for each other, the rule can get repealed without the three girls getting accused of being weak and unable to hold up their end of the bargain. The problem? Big Joe thinks Patti is a lesbian. This song is featured when the three girls sneak into a laundromat where Big Joe is doing laundry. They act like they don't notice he is there, and start gossiping about Patti, knowing that Joe can hear them.

April 2011

Listen to 'Firecracker'

 

Good ol' punk rock. Even though punk was just a fleeting phase for me in my youth, it's still a part of me and a part of my musical judgment, especially when it comes to judging when pop music is just too full of shit. I can't help but hear privilege and affirmation of the status quo in mainstream songs, even when it's probably not there. And I get on a soapbox when I meet youngsters who think Blink 182 is badass and have never listened to the 70s and early 80s shit, it makes me sad.

So how did I end up working on a punk rock musical?

Yeah, kind of a risky combination there, I mean, what is more full of shit than musical theater?

READ THE REST AND HEAR THE SONG