Don’t Go Back To Sleep
It’s not like she didn’t warn me.
I collapsed fully-clothed into bed at 8:30.
“You sure you wanna go to bed?” Abbi asked. “You haven’t been sleeping well.”
Sure enough, it’s nearly three o’clock on a Thursday morning, I’m wide awake, and have been for two hours.
Truth is that I’ve been sleeping just fine. In fact — Abbi’s adolescent, full-sized bed not withstanding — I slept like a baby while visiting her folks in Greenville, Delaware. Could have been all the local festivities, or the healthy dose of lager. More likely, though, it was the relative quiet of the Wilmington suburb, the principle soundtrack of which was the wind through the branches.
Back home in Hell’s Kitchen, though, the soundtrack is sizeably different.
This morning, a garbage truck idled amidst Tenth Avenue traffic just below our fifth floor window. In concert with a head full of worry over editing “Mister Rogers & Me” prior to our self-imposed March 15th Nantucket Film Festival deadline, the din was too much.
So here I am.
I’m sure it’s temporary. And luckily, the stakes are pretty low; I don’t really have to be on top of my game at work this week. Still, it’s kind of annoying to toss and turn for an hour, give in, get up, then wander around an empty apartment before collapsing into bed again just before sunrise.
On the upside, my early morning ideas are often my best, and online research has yielded some great resources for the film, so…
So I look at it as my unconscious saying, “Wake up! Pay attention!” yunno, like that Rumi poem about spirits on the edge of sleep.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you; Don’t go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want; Don’t go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep.
For Heaven’s sake, don’t go back to sleep. (Though I’m about to.)
Top Ten Singles Of 2007
Kids pride themselves on what adults in the music business call “discovery.”
Discovery, of course, is just corporate speak for being the first kid in your high school to listen to Siouxsie & The Banshees, or The Cure, or REM. Or at least thinking you’re the first.
When I was in high school, this was pretty easy. There were three primary routes: 1) elder siblings, 2) college radio, or 3) a local record shop.
Nowadays, though, everyone from MTV to Pitchfork to music blogs like Stereogum and music discovery and networking sites like The Sixty One is vying to break new music. The ubiquity of the MP3 has made discovery and distribution instantaneous, and levelled the playing field; a great song by Ingrid Michaelson is just as likely to spread virally as a great song by Radiohead.
Plus, nowadays, I’m old.
So, despite my day job, I find it pretty tough to discover new music. It’s not that I don’t try. I listen to as many of the hot new bands I hear my colleagues discussing as I can, but am rarely moved enough to buy the records. The notable exception, of course, is my friend’s new music, which is often better than the pap major labels, MTV and Clear Channel are foisting upon the masses.
Compiling the classic top ten list, then, has been a wee more challenging than in years prior. Still, here’s my best effort to that end.
1) Bruce Springsteen “I’ll Work For Your Love” - Springsteen’s new album, “Magic,” borrows heavily from his past. With a lifetime of experience, Springsteen’s storytelling is wise, rich and nostalgic. And with The E Street Band at his back, he sounds like he’s at The Stone Pony; all the elements are there: the chunky guitar, thumping backbeat, and pounding keys. Which is just fine with me. Timing is everything, though, and “Magic” came at the right time — just as I was about to get married. And while I relished the transition from single to married life, from bachelor to husband, it came with its own set of feelings: nostalgia, regret, loss and hope. Though “I’ll Work For Your Love” ostensibly tells the tale of a grizzled old bartender, to me it became a mission. It still is, and will be ’til death does us part.
2) The Hold Steady “Stuck Between Stations” - As I wrote previously, I was late to The Hold Steady. Their “Boys & Girls In America” came out in 2006, at which time I just didn’t get it. I saw them a few weeks ago and immediately got it. Even as a late entry, then, this single is amongst my most played. I love the sound of the guitars, I love how propulsive it feels, and I love the lyrics. The first verse alone (”There are nights when I think that Sal Paradise was right / Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together / Sucking off each other at the demonstrations / Making sure their makeup’s straight / Crushing one another with collossal expectations / Dependent, undisciplined, sleeping late”) is closer to poetry than song.
3) Andrew Wagner “Perfect Harmony” - My cousin Andrew is a terrific musician. His two albums, “Horse Year” and “Departures,” sound like Scotch and cigarettes, drafty houses and ghosts. Which is why “Perfect Harmony” caught me so off guard. It’s still late at night, but our protagonist isn’t lamenting, he’s learning. “I found a heart I never knew I had,” he sings. “And I had to part with the song that made me sad.” So beautiful, hopeful and powerful was my first listen to Andrew’s song, I immediately sent it to Abbi and suggested he play it during our wedding ceremony — which, I’m grateful to say, he did.
4) The Nadas “Home” - When my Iowa pals shared the demos from their forthcoming CD, “Ghosts Inside These Halls,” with me a few months ago, I told them straight up, “Your biggest challenge is to top the two songs you inadvertently released this year.” Both “Home” and “Goodnight Girl” were released as online-only singles. And both are amazing. “Home,” though, hits a sweet spot. The songs addresses one of my favorite subjects (see also: “Bloom” through “Heartland”), and it does so from the perspective of the place that I call home. Moreover, it sounds bright and big and open like an outdoor show beneath the star-strewn Des Moines skyine. (Yes, there’s a Des Moines skyline.) “You feel like home to me,” indeed.
5) Glenn Hansard “When Your Mind’s Made Up” - There’s a scene during the film, “Once,” in which our protagonists are making their first record. The scene unfolds as if the band simply sets up and begins playing together. Through glanses, nods, and serendipity they slowly build the song until its dramatic whirlygig climax. And while, as a guy who’s crafted a few dozen recordings of his own, I knew it never works that way, I was so wrapt and moved by the slow, steady build of the song that I didn’t care. I had goose bumps. I still do.
6) Buffalo Tom “You’ll Never Catch Him” - I found the Boston trio’s first album since the ’90s to be a little lacking overall. This tune, though, was vintage Buff Tom: one part simple, strummed acoustic; one part shimmering, arpegiated electric; three parts harmony, blend and serve. Mmmmmm, delicious.
7) Sundown “In The Morning” - The guys in Sundown haven’t even released a record yet. Still, hearing them perform this uptempo, optimistic, three-part harmony fueled acoustic number just a few times has it lodged firmly in my heart and mind. I can’t wait to hear what they do with it on vinyl.
8) Jeff Jacobson “Back To You” - For the bulk of the summer, Jeff’s amazing self-titled album was my accompanyment as I strode to and from work. His songwriting is top notch, his melodies infectious, and his recording lush. With its loping groove, “Back To You” reminds me of a hipper Doobie Brothers’ track. It feels like a sunny day. “Remember when it felt so nice?”
9) Wilco “Either Way” - I distinctly remember playing this song for the first time as I strode down Tenth Avenue. It sounded like that spring day felt: crisp, bright, and slowly unfolding into summer.
10) Flying Machines “Right Around Christmas” - Little did we know when we floated the idea for “A Family Holiday” benefit CD that a band we hardly know (Jenny Piston sent ‘em our way) would knock our socks off with this original holiday composition. Honestly, the idea for the record was for everyone to cover existing songs. When I heard they’d written something, I was dubious. By the third listen, though, I was hooked. It’s an epic Christmas song, like Freddie Mercury might have written. Flying Machines (aka The Attorney’s) have crafted a new, instant Christmas classic. I love it.
In the end, then, I think my top ten songs reflect my best year ever: bright, open, optimistic, nostalgic and hopeful.
What It Feels Like
My second blog post ever, written on November 21, 2000, began thusly: “Just ate an entire Entenmann’s Sweet Potato Pie. Happy Thanksgiving!”
In fact, that post was part of what I called my “Studio Journal” during the making of my 2001 CD, “Crash Site.” I didn’t begin the Daily Journal in earnest until February 7, 2002. Since then, I posted some 1,319 entries. 1,320 with this one.
I know all this because I’ve spent a fair dose of my weekend pouring over back issues of the Daily Journal as I prepare to relaunch this hand-tagged HTML site as a WordPress blog.
My primary objective in all of this is to have a site that is more useable and discoverable for you, and more manageable for me. But that’s not my point here.
My point here is that I’ve spend a fair dose of my weekend re-reading and then titling posts beginning in February 7, 2002 and running through August 1, 2004 when — mysteriously — I began headlining my posts with song titles. The first one? “Grace.” (”The city isn’t asleep,” I wrote, “But it sure is groggy.”)
While a tedious excercise to be sure, re-reading everything I wrote during my thirty-first, second and third years of life is — if nothing else — an interesting excercise in reading comprehension. Moreover, knowing what I know as a Digital Media Executive about the value of discreet, singular posts and a good headline to snagging usership from search engines and, well, it makes for interesting post titles.
Like, “Waiting For The Codeine To Kick In” (February 19, 2002).
Or, “What Would Frank Black Do?” (May 8, 2002).
Or, “Wasted & Crazy” (December 4, 2002).
Or, “On Hold With Wayne Newton” (April 7, 2003).
And I still have sixteen months left to re-read and title.
It makes for an odd retrospective. I mean, I remember those days (mostly). And I remember the person who wrote it all down here. But (beware rapidly approaching cliche), so much has changed.
There are months upon months of woe-is-me music business whining. There are days and days of “I’m working on this new thing” followed by “That thing didn’t do so well but wait ’til you hear about this new thing.” So far I’ve re-read (and titled) posts on the making of “Crash Site, the “Summer’s Gone” EP, its subsequent tour, and the demos the came to constitute “Almost Home.” And I still have a few years of making peace with the fact that I’m not Michael Stipe or Bono or even Michael Penn left to re-read (and title).
Meanwhile, I seem to be moving ahead fairly steadily — though much of the progress at work, or with my music, sports, or (still burgeoning) filmmaking career — appear as background or subtext. Mostly, the narrative arc is about not becoming who you thought you’d be. Nowadays, I’d call it becoming who you are. And who I am is way more than I’d ever have imagined I could be.
Looking back from the wise old age of thirty-six, though, it strikes me that the outcome never really mattered. That is, nothing would have been good enough. As I apparently said to myself — or, more succinctly, recorded on my own voice mail — on tour in Charlottesville, Virginia, one night in 2003, “This is what it feels like.”
So, if nothing else, I’m glad I’ve taken the time to scribble down these 1,320 Daily Journal posts. If all else fails, at least I’ll remember what it felt like.
You Miss Too Much These Days If You Stop To Think
What a beautiful way to start a strange day.
It began at the Dolby screening room on the corner of 55th Street and Sixth Avenue (there behind the big LOVE statue) where 3ality Digital, National Geographic Films and Murphy PR were screening “U23D.”
The 90-minute concert film (which dispenses with the behind-the-scenes and verite elements that made “Rattle & Hum” creak and groan) captures Bono et all at Vertigo tour stops in Mexico City and Buenos Aires. And I’ll be honest: I found myself choked up more than once during the film.
It’s a pretty staggering visual achievement. The 3D is cool. 3ality Digital has certainly brought it along way since Vincent Price’s “House Of Wax.” The glasses are sleek black plastic — not all that different from Bono’s, actually. The digital picture is crystal clear. The added dimension is impressive, whether panning across Mexico City’s Azteca Stadium, and ducking a fan’s enthusiastically spastic arms. It’s especially effective in adding depth to the band’s already impressive stage show. Between the eye-popping, skyscraping Jumbotrons and the colorful clouds of spotlit dry ice, the band looked as if they were performing on an alter or in a war zone in equal turn.
Moreover, the sound was pristine. Bono’s voice boomeranged my around head, while Edge’s guitar whizzed and zoomed past me like a jet. Better yet, every muted chord, drum click — even the sound of Bono thumping his chest with his fist — was audible.
The film’s biggest — and most moving — success, though, was in capturing the narrative arc and inspirational feel of U2’s live show. Bono does a bit somewhere between “Love And Peace Or Else” and “Bullet The Blue Sky” where he straps a white bandana with the Islamic crescent, Jewish Star Of David, and Christian cross all emblazened in black magic marker.
“Jesus, Jew, Muhammad, it’s true,” he says. “All sons of Abraham.”
Now, I don’t know a ton about specific theologies, and I understand the flaws in putting a pop star in a pulpit, but for my money, it works. Without preaching or propaganda, U2 brings closer to God than almost any experience I know. He picks up where both John Lennon and Martin Luther King left off.
“I believe in the Kingdom come,” he sings. “Then all the colors will bleed into one.”
Amen.
Is scrolling The Universal Declaration of Human Rights across the Jumbotron a bit heavy handed? Maybe. Do I mind a little medicine with my honey? Not at all. The world is sick. It’s needs all the medicine it can get.
I watched every last credit roll, grinning behind my 3D glasses as the final image of an animated heart faded to black.
Back in the world, New York City had gone dark. A sharp, frozen rain was falling like shards of glass. I raised my collar, turned up “Until the End Of The World,” and walked towards my office.
Keepin’ My Flavor Fresh
Much as I loathe to admit it, I am a man of simple rituals.
Seven o’clock most mornings find me stirring to the sound of my Blackberry’s daily alarm. Though its report is a low, soothing, Zen-like chime, it never fails to annoy me that it’s clear across the apartment and thus impossible to snooze or ignore.
So I get out of bed, step over the ball of jeans and t-shirts inevitable balled at my feet, walk across the apartment, and turn it off. Then, invariably, I sort through my overnight emails while trying to blink moisture into my dehydrated contact lenses.
Then I climb back into bed.
Following the inevitable 6-19 minutes of spooning with my wife while rolling over a fresh day’s worth of (usually work related) worry in my head, my hankering for coffee motivates me to climb out of bed for good and stumble into the kitchen.
My coffee ritual is simple: dump yesterday’s grinds, rinse the pot, rinse the basket, open the bag of Starbucks ground Frech roast, plunge my nose into it and — aaaaaaaaaah! — inhale.
It’s like crack.
But I’m not here to write about coffee.
I wanna’ talk toast.
Toast.
I love toast.
I start with two slices of Pepperidge Farm Golden Harvest Grains. I drop them into our Cuisinart Classic Style Electronic Chrome Toaster for approximately two minutes (six on the little 1-10 dial).
Once the bread is sufficiently toasted (dark — not golden, and not black — so that the texture can support the forthcoming ingredients), I place the slices on a plate (to pre-empt the “You need to wipe up the counter” lecture), and liberally apply butter.
Mmmmmm, butter.
Crucial.
Next I apply a liberal dose (probably a teaspoon) of Smucker’s Reduced Fat Natural Style Creamy Peanut Butter. (It’s the kind that comes with the oils and peanuts seperated, the blending of which is a whole nother story for a whole nother time.)
I apply a liberal dose (probably a teaspoon) of Hero Strawberry Preserves.
Next I prepare Abbi’s coffee (cream, one and a half sugars) and deliver it to her bedside.
Then I repair to the livingroom with my toast and coffee (cream, half sugar), turn on NY1 News, and begin crunching (careful with my crumbs in an effort to pre-empt the “You need to sweep up the floor” lecture), thereby beginning another great day.
A Thousand Steps, Part IV
Sometimes last minute plans are the best kind.
I got an email from a buddy of mine around four o’clock Friday afternoon. Kevin was catching a late train and wondered if I wanted to grab a beer in the neighborhood.
Beer?
I met Kevin in Spanish class on the first or second day of my freshman year. We formed a study group with a black kid from Queens, and a Jewish kid from Long Island. Our study sessions were comprised of flash cards, pizza, and cheap vodka cut with generic fruit punch.
“I can’t drink hard alcohol to this day,” he told me Friday night.
“Me neither,” I said.
We’ve kept up pretty well over the years. He’s been a great supporter of my music, buying records and catching shows. The two of us were groomsmen in a mutual pal’s wedding. (That mutual pal, it ends up, has a pretty decent political appointment in the Corzine administration.) We’ve seen some shows together too: REM, Pearl Jam. Dude’s got good taste.
Anyway, somewhere around the tail end of my second Harp, just prior to wading back into the tourist-clogged Times Square, Kev said something told me a story that made a lot of worries and woes worthwhile.
“Remember that attic you guys used to play behind Lawrenson?”
“Standart Street,” I said. “I remember that place.”
“I’ll never forget seeing you guys there. My girlfriend had dumped me a week or a month before, so I was depressed — deee-pressed! But I remember watching you guys that night and thinking, ‘I’m going to be allright.’ Yunno’? People were dancing so hard…”
“The floor wash shaking,” I said. “I remember holding onto the rafters in case the floor collapsed.”
“Yeah! There were, like 200 people dancing so the floor was shaking and to this day I remember thinking, ‘Either I’m gonna’ die, or I’m going to be allright.’”
Thanks, Kev.
Right Around Christmastime, Part II
I think most would agree that the holidays can be something of a pain in the ass.
First there’s the hazy shades of winter; the gloomy, short, cold days.
Then there’s the whole gift thing. I love giving, but there’s a lot of Madison Avenue fueled pressure to get it right and really dazzle recipients.
And, of course, there’s all the pressure to be cheery and festive, which is usually manageable enough, but not always.
As my pals in Flying Machines aka The Attorneys sing, “Why do I always lose my mind right around Christmastime?”
I haven’t lost my mind, but I do have one hell of a headache.
Still.
Nearly thirty-six hours after the rousing, all-star “Do They Know It’s Christmas” finale to our big benefit show, I’m still hung over, still exhausted, and still not sure what to make of it.
For now, then, lemme keep it simple.
When I was a teenager, my brother, Christofer, and I used to sneak out in his Brown Bomber (a 1978 Cutlass Supreme Stationwagon) every Christmas Eve. We’d drive around all the lush neighborhoods of suburban Philadelphia smoking pot, admiring luminaria, and listening to “A Very Special Christmas.” Adolescent drug use notwithstanding, that’s the spirit of Christmas for me: brotherhood, light, and music.
That’s what we were trying to do Wednesday night.
I’ll tell you all about how awesome Flying Machines were, how sweet our pal, Jen Snow, from 826NYC was, and how cool it was to hear the audience sing along with Chris later today or over the weekend or something. Meanwhile, click here to check out photos from A Family Holiday Benefit.
And if you haven’t, please buy the album. Heck, buy three.
The Delancey (New York, New York)
Liberated Matter & Hot Rocks Present:
“A Family Holiday” Benefit CD Release
Merry Christmas Baby
(This Christmas) Baby, Please Come Home
Do They Know It’s Christmas
Click For Photos
Order From iTunes
Merry Christmas Baby
Five strands of 100 count clear indoor/outdoor mini lights. Twenty-five white baloons. Nine glittering snowflakes. And a beer.
In just fourteen hours or so I’ll pick up the first run of “A Family Holiday” CDs. A few hours later, the first of twelve performances will take the stage at The Delancey.
It’s been a long road.
The idea for this benefit album first occurred to me late last year. I first floated it to other musicians this summer. We recorded “Do They Know It’s Christmas” in September. Since then, I’ve been booking, mastering, pitching, and coordinating non-stop (well, excepting my honeymoon). Frankly, it’s been a bit of a hassle. And it’s definately cost more time and money than I’d planned.
My goal was to make good on deep and simple. To build community and contribute to charity. We’re good on one, and halfway to the other. I wanted to bring a group of strangers together to make something bigger than all of us. Standing at rehearsal with Chris,, Tony, Jamie Alegre and John from Flying Machines Sunday night, I thought, ‘Mission accomplished.’
New ideas have come tome in the oddest places. Like the shower, where it occured to me we could incentivise CD sales with a raffle. And so tonight’s audience can win one of the following:
A South Park Christmas
It’s A Wonderful Life
826 merch
Every performer’s CD
I think we’re going to give everything away during my last song, a cover of Springsteen’s “Merry Christmas Baby.” Oh, and Chris is going to shoot everything for the doc.
Truth is, I’m too tired to type. And given how long the rest of my day’s gonna be, I should probably just throw in the towel.
So if you’ve made it this far, consider buying the record here, or downloading it here. Proceeds will benefit 826NYC where, incidently, Chris and I will be shooting next week.
It all comes around, huh?
“A Family Holiday” Benefit
December 5th, 2007
