Touring

Leaving my son and wife behind hurts worse each time.

I can't seem to come up with a good enough response to: DaDa, I want to come play music!

It cuts to the core. If I could afford to bring my family I would. (Once upon a time my wife and I did record an album). But all that lost time aside, I think the biggest problem is my son's 3 year old attitude shift. While I'm away he's developed into quite a punk.

I hear it more and more over the phone in the background: NO! I DON'T WANT TO! and I come home to it now. I'm just not around for the changes and I return midstream. He's kicking things now and throwing things at the most inopportune times (dinner at Grandma's). That and tying up our dog like a rodeo hog.

I remember when I had a baby boy, not an angsty little man.

I've got the solution:

I think I'll get him an electric guitar for his Birthday in September.

My Guitars

My first bass (on the left), a Schecter custom P-Bass from the 80s (made in California), is ironically my current favorite after years of disuse. I taught myself to play on this bass and I moved 7 times before I started using it again most recently in LA's PEOPLE and now on my second record (Summer '09). It used to be cherry red stain, but I sanded it down and then stained it with a dark natural finish and used tung oil over and over between steel wool rub downs. It took two tries. I had to remove a heart that was carved into the body. I lent it out for a year or so. I under-valued this guitar for sure.

It's a P-bass with bartolini pickups (not original), drift wood body, black pickguard that I had to steel wool for a while to remove the super glue from when I attached fragments of broken CDRs (it refracted in little rainbows live). I love this bass. the neck is thinner than most Pbass necks, almost a jazz bass neck. I actually kept in under my bed for years unused.

The Red one on the right is an Ibanez Road star I got cheap for a friend, but he didn't want it and I can hardly sell a stray. My son loves this strat style cherry bomb. I suspect it'll be his first guitar.


The purple Pedulla Rapture on the left was an unsellable item at a Long Island Guitar Center. I guess the manly men of Wrong Island couldn't handle the purple. I bought it for my wife though. It has a big soap bar Bartolini pick-up, a flip hip shot on the E tuning machine for Drop D, a hand carved bronze nut, and a Bad Ass II Bass Bridge. Its super light, small, and fast. Sounds super huge through an Ampeg SVT.

The Fender Jazzmaster Japanese Reissue 1996 (first reissue year) is the only guitar I play these days. It plays like a strat but sounds like Sonic Youth from the first. The red pick guard and sunburst body rock. I stuffed kleenex under the strings behind the bridge to cut down on the chimeyness of the jazzmaster when I'm recording (so I don't have noise all over the track). The thinner jazzmaster sound lends itself for easier stacking of guitars (strats are fatter, and Les Paul's even more fat to my ears) and I love to stack guitar parts to make an orchestra of sound. I usually rewrite/simplify my work later when I'm tracking but initially my song writing has lots of guitar parts.


This Fender Jazz Bass, a Highway One American Standard, was a gift and I use it exclusively for all my finger playing. It is a workingman's bass. It has a Bad Ass II Bridge and a hand carved brass nut. Everything else is factory, its post-millennial work.

The Epiphone is a 70's acoustic-electric that feels a little like a Gibson (which is why I use it for all my live acoustic gigs).


This Gibson C-0, classical 1961 beauty from Kalamazoo. It was my Dad's. He gave it to me after years of letting me borrow it. This is my baby. I wrote almost all of my debut on it. The Schecter is the only instrument I've gotten more songs out of. It sings clear and true so I can easily hear and build melodies.

The original owner (i think my dad was a teen in Iowa) thought the heavy metal seal in the headstock through out the neck so he replaced it will a good resonating wood (and destroyed the possibility of it ever being sold as All Original), and I believe its because of this, that it has survived as long as it has and in the condition it has. I've never played another of its like. i don't know how many survived. It may be older than 1961. There was some weirdness when I was tracking down the info. Either way, I taught myself to play on this guitar when my dad wasn't watching, and his old Kasuga when he was (a long gone japanese cheaper acoustic steel string guitar).

I love guitars, but as of now I hope I don't get too many more.

I'm running out of room.

Reading aloud Dr. Seuss

Have you read Dr. Seuss lately?


"BIG F, little f, what begins with F?
Four fluffy feathers on a Fiffer-feffer-feff"
-Dr. Seuss's A B C


Trying to say that fast is harder than it might seem especially when you get to the tongue twister Seuss's.


"Pete Briggs pats his big pink pigs all day.
(Don't ask me why. I cannot say.)
Then Pete puts his patted pigs away
in his Pete Briggs' Pink Pigs Big Pigs pigpen"
-Oh Say can you Say? by Dr. Seuss

My father-in-law told me actors and anchormen alike use the tongue twister books to work on their diction before hitting the spotlight. I can definitely sing faster if I get my daily Seuss recitals in. Take the A B C one to the next level add some rhythm and speed to it, before you know it your lips and tongue will feel thick and slow.

Add it to the Rider:
Oh Say Can You Say
by Dr. Seuss
http://www.amazon.com/Say-Seuss-Green-Back-Book/dp/0007175221

Buy In Buy Out Video

Notes from the Road - Fillmore/Blondie

I've been traveling lately. Eating up miles of highway going down to LA to rehearse and perform with PEOPLE (or www.myspace.com/peoplerock). 

I mostly listen to NPR.

I mostly travel alone.

But I did get to go to the Fillmore to see Blondie in San Francisco. Their keyboardist (since 2008), is Matt Katz-Bohen, guitarist/singer for Daddy and Feast of Friends (Ty Dennis and Shawn Pelton have both played on drums with FoF). I recently did a show down at Molly Malone's with Ty, Matt, Chad Dinzes and the man behind Go Green Expo in LA, Bradford Rand. He invited me to the Fillmore show. I was excited to take my wife out since we haven't gone out to a show together in years (we have a young son...)  Anyway the only shows I see are ones that share the stage with us that night, or festivals if they give us a general admission pass... (like Dfest I got to see Zappa plays Zappa. It was brilliant. Roto used to jam with Dweezel in Joe's Garage back in the 90's).

 

So it was great to see a friend play with some living legends and to get in free with backstage passes. 

We left our son, James, at his Aunt's house with his Uncle and cousin. He waited until we returned home at 12:30am... for a little man used to 9pm bedtime, he was holding up pretty good. The next day my buddy Gibson witnessed him oscillate from being meek to throwing a huge tantrum in 20 minutes... It was an interesting next day.

I love Pedals

They're addictive, colorful, and sometimes electrocute you. Guitar Pedals Rule.

I wish I had more. I love to look, to touch, even though I know these have been on some of the dirtiest stages in NYC. The grit just feels right.

My son routinely drops my bowl of picks (a scratched beatles record my sister-in-law baked into a bowl) onto the floor. All my picks are gritty. That's the way it is.

Another, Father-Son exercise I've come up with is creating a pedal train and letting my son attack the knobs. He generally stays away from Flanger and Phaser. It may be the fact that my delay pedal is blue or its hypnotic sound, but he always wants my old Digital Pitch Shifter/Delay PS-3 Boss pedal. Actually this isn't even my original. That had been lost years ago. I actually got it on Ebay to replace it and it cost me almost 3 times as much as I spent initially.

Anyway, he always gets bored with the pedals especially once I'm into it. He knows where all the gain/volume knobs are, knows he's not supposed to touch them, because of his little ears. And he just cranks it every time he gets a change. I know my wife is going to kill me, but he's a little Lemmy.

Who am I to hold him back?

Bringing Home the Bacon

In times of Recession, we are the first on the chopping block:

That good-looking 20 something in accounting who rocks out on the weekends.

Keeping your job or finding one right now is like running a marathon with a midget on your back choking you. Or at least, that's how it can feel.

The point is, father's all over are losing their jobs left and right. Many under 35 lack the seniority to hold onto their jobs (like young teachers) while budget cuts take effect. For many of us it's hard, but as Dad's we have the responsibility of an entire family in our hands which can be extreme.

The only advice I can give is what I do: work harder and longer than anyone else. If musicians, and creative people for that matter, want respect they're going to have to work harder than professions with established respect. For those of us who work oodles of jobs each given year, 2e have to be able switch hats fluidly while skimping on sleep. (Tax time is a nightmare). I can recall working all-nighters at a club, evenings catering, and recording an album during the daylight hours. I don't remember sleeping much.

But that's our gig. That's what a Dad does. When all else fails, when there's nothing that can be done, Dad walks 30 miles to town for a working telephone, or carries his wife down a mountain so they can drive her to the hospital, or works 2 jobs to make sure there's something in the bank when college applications go out.

That's the gig.

And the sooner we throw our shoulders to the wheel, the better it'll feel being a dad, an accountant or a rockstar. There'll all the same.

And the larger the load you'll carry, the easier it will be to bring home the bacon.

The Family Band

The temptation is there for all musicians to make: The Prodigy!!


I like any other musician have felt that goose step on my grave more than once. Having an apt little boy for a son helps it more, but I've come to grasp his great grandma's perspective: let kids be kids, babies be babies, adults be adults...

It first struck when he picked up a ukulele at 10 months and played it adeptly for a minute and a half, and then ran off. He didn't really pick it up again for months. And then shortly after he grew interested, he stood on my Aunt's childhood baritone ukulele and it cracked. Though I'm sure it was an endurance experiment that proved he was too heavy, we took away the guitars till he was a little older.

But, lately, he's been asking me to play for him and recognizing songs where I'm singing. He even asks Adriana to pick up her old purple bass and play as he tests out a small egg shaker.

Family Band?

The Minivan Fiasco

I should have thought it through.

She wanted to prepare for the future. One car that we'll own while our family grows. Instead its like an albatross around my neck. I'm cursed.

I bought a Chevy 2006 Uplander, a big sparkly swamp green marshmellow. And if you didn't already know, I'm here to tell you when you finance with GMAC they hold the title until you pay off the money you owe (such is my perception currently - stab of worry). Hence, I can't sell the thing and pay off the debt like any other debt.

So if anyone knows anybody willing to pay....

just kidding.

Actually, this debacle is a vehicle, ahem, for a greater message about kids and money. Someone said to me a while back that kids don't cost a thing. They drink milk for the first year of life.

While this is terribly inaccurate, on the other hand it isn't. We buy way many things for our kids or for the sake of our kids especially to somehow justify to our peers that having a kid is cool.... or some might do that...
I mean when I see my son wearing his Lucky Brand Jeanst-shirt, he looks a lot cooler than the other kids at the playground. I ain't fooling. Its awesome having a cool little man for a son, but to be realistic, kids clothes are in abundance. My mom's neighbors gave us nearly 2 years of clothing for our son when we were between New York apartments and living with her. If you're smart you can find Freecycle's supreme deals and comb Craigslist for the best of the best. You might even catch the windfall of another misguided purchases when they no longer need them and are too embarrassed to keep around.

Here's the advice: Don't be that guy. Pinch those pennies, because at the end of the day, real Rockstars wear second hand clothing and don't buy the million dollar yachts, they drive the same car, play the same guitar, and wear the same things they did before they hit it big.

Marley and Me: That dog is your Youth

If you haven't seen Marley & Me, you should. It covers a lot of the tradeoffs of marriage and parenting, but shows how in the long run being the family guy pays off.

The Movie is really about how life side swipes you and once it has you off balance, rarely do you get it back this side of the grave..... Hilarious right?

Did I mention people cried for most of the movie?

It reminded me of my childhood dog: Baron. A big golden retriever that was dumb as a post but sometimes very brave. He once dug up the backyard's electric fence and chewed through it. I'm sure it shocked him pretty good, but his self satisfaction as he sprawled on the once unreachable driveway was evident. I loved and sometimes felt I hated that dog and I identified with that part of the movie - the universal part. But the rest of the movie's really about young, ambitious creative fathers who have no idea how they were passed up in the rat race but find themselves in the middle of a large family over night. The dog is simply someone who shared that journey unscathed. Somehow, dogs are perpetually 20 something, and we eventually slow down and are old.

But, as the film shows, its worth it.

And as Mick Jagger has demonstrated, we may eventually look our age, but the true fans will always love us.

(Non Sequitor Image: Yes, I have a mini pinscher. Yes, she has little outfits. Yes, even a bathrobe with a hood and a matching rubber duck. And yes, this is this christmas, and that was her special gift from my mother in law.)

Don't Eat Their Food

It may appeal to your wallet to polish off that plate of mac n' cheese or even for your more diverse (or perverse) palettes the baby food in jars.... Well, Don't. Baby food is for babies, and it'll only make it look like your going to have one in a few months if you eat their food.

I think this takes shape -ahem- as the child approaches 2 because they are eating nearly the food you did just a few years ago. Its hot dogs, mac n' cheese, PBJ's, and pizza for any meal....

But right now, your stomach can barely handle that Dean and Deluca sandwich with the brie that your brother raved about when he visited you last spring. Suddenly a salad for lunch seems like the only responsible option. But am I the lonely minority here?

I think not.

My wife's cousin caught me stroking my New Year's day belly (after a long, satisfying meal). He must have glimpsed some disbelief because he said, "The new Large's are smaller, right?" I looked at him blankly for a moment till it registered, "Yeah, I never thought of that before." I just thought I was gaining weight.

Returning home to my little apartment, a converted garage woodshop, I weighed myself and looked at my California driver's license. Only 3 lbs heavier since Aug. Its the meal I just ate, I thought.

Maybe all my clothes are shrinking in the dryer and all the clothes in the stores are selling smaller to cover overhead costs of shipping 60 million shirts every 2 weeks from some 3rd world country where the factories are located. Shave off 1 oz per 3 sq feet of packaged fabric and you have serious savings come round the end of the fiscal year.

Advice to the father trying to stay trim and yes, hip:

Don't try and convert your child to your diet. Let them have theirs and you have yours. Or that 40 dollar shirt from Lucky Brand won't fit next New Year's Eve.

And on a deeper level, kids are kids. Their bodies have different needs. Understanding how that involves issues beyond diet also helps. Everyone at their own level and speed.

The hardest thing to do is always give your child the benefit of the doubt even when they are being royal pains. Wanting my attention in a specific way (usually involving figurine elephants and car crashes) that I cannot attend to or if his request is actually not possible, usually ends up in a meltdown. Usually at an inopportune location.

But all he wanted was my undivided attention and the understanding that his thoughts and desires were recognized and important to me. I don't see that as unreasonable now, but at times the extremes to which a 2 and a half year old will go to to get their father's attention baffles me.

I suggest:

Leaving the Beatles anthology playing throughout the day. Their sage-like words, positivity, friendship, and great music permeate through the house settling children magically while giving you something quirky and interesting to say that week waiting in line at the grocery to the person ringing you up who happens to fit your record's demographic...

Already in Motion

As with most of parenting, this blog emulates real life.

Most attributes, behaviors, ideas, and emotions that we nurture, hinder, or ignore are already in motion behind the scenes. I've certainly been thinking this blog a long time, and snippets of its voice has found their way onto other pieces of writing. I've decided quarantine is necessary and public display of the findings so others can learn where I failed and hopefully sometimes, succeeded.

To begin with,

I am an indie rock bassist, solo artist, a writer of fiction, a passable visual artist, a graduate from NYU, this artsy school with a reputation of sorts, and a New Yorker by choice (though I'm exiled and nearly penniless at the moment... That's the Post part of there.... I wish these blogs had footnotes because I want to tell you about how I haven't really shelved hipsterdom or nay, being a cool guy with a kid, but I've retooled it to fit a more mature, grownup version of that cool Village persona that we all miss so much.

And most importantly, you won't end up on the Upper West Side sporting a pink Polo shirt pushing a $2,000 dollar stroller in it with a baby somewhere inside its extrapolations, looking for the organic soy-based formula that is associated with your favorite non-profit organization.

That's not me.

I'm thinking Williamsburg before the high rises set in.

I'm thinking be a rockstar, but be a good dad.