Top Ten Stories Of 2008
What with getting engaged, then promoted, and then married — not to mention honeymooning on the other side of the world and releasing a few albums — it didn’t seem possible that this year could possibly top 2007.
And nothing will ever top that happy day last October.
Still, 2008 gave it the old college try.
I released two albums (“The Invention Of Everything Else,” and “Live From Rockwood Music Hall”) and spearheaded two benefits (“A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II” and “River Songs”).
I spent nearly two months away from home on account of the day job: Seattle, San Francisco, San Diego, and (for three of those eight weeks) Los Angeles. And Abbi and I managed a few fun trips too: Nantucket, Massachusettes, Bray’s Island, South Carolina, and Speedway, Indiana.
By my count (or, my Garamin Forerunner 305’s, anyway), I ran just shy of 700 miles: sometimes in a cool race or cool, new town, but most of the time in and around New York City.
The truth is, though, most of the year’s best moments were little ones: laughing with Abbi, goofing around with the nephews, hanging with the band. For the sake of argument and retrospect, though, here are my Top Ten Stories Of 2008 in chronological order.
January 20: Meeting Bono - Meeting one’s hero is probably over rated. And I should know; Between Bono and Michael Stipe, I’ve now met at least two. So I can tell you this much: It’s worse when you’re just some random journalist. That said, I’ve managed to find an iota of meaningful exchange in most every conversation with a celebrity, including Bono (in retrospect, anyway; in the moment, I couldn’t get past his Irish brogue or blue-gray eyes). In this case? That MTV should get me better concert tickets. And that musical inspiration comes via “The Ancients.” Thanks, Bono.
April/May: Making “The Invention Of Everything Else” - It’s a shame that “Invention” came around so late in my “career” (as if it could have at any other time), because it all came together with this one. The songs are my best yet (and certainly my happiest yet). Recording was quick and painless (the closet notwithstanding), and the band was ironclad and collaborative. Jon Locker and I nailed long-distance, self-production. The whole record hangs together lyrically and sonically. And somehow, I jammed it into a ridiculous schedule, including…
June 1: MTV Movies Awards/Universal Studios Fire - What a week. I’d wake up on Eastern Standard Time (despite being in LA), check my Blackberry, run five miles, get on my laptop, eat some breakfast, then repair to my windowless, basement office at Universal Studios. Then, one morning, I wake up to the sound of helicopters. Like, Vietnam-sounding helicopters. Before the end of the day, my footage of the fire had aired on CNN, and I’d driven all over the lot in a golf cart.
June 26: Hy-Vee Triathlon/Authentic Records Benefit - This was a fun one: a triathlon and rock show all in one day. And we raised $5k to boot! Awesome fun with the Des Moines crew. (And not a bad finish on the tri.)
July 10: Killing The Blues - You already know “Killing The Blues” was my song of the year. Well, ends up performing it with Mrs. Jamie Leonhart and the guys one steamy, July night makes my top ten in spades. Why? Suffice to say that I’ve been singing in rock bands for over twenty years (gasp). Still, moments like these — when the notes are perfect, and the energy is right, and the room falls silent then erupts in thunderous, enthusiastic applause — are rare, and wonderful, and appreciated. Afterwards, I remember saying to Jamie, “How did we do that!?!” I’m not sure we’ll ever know. But amazingly, we caught the moment on tape, so at least I can prove it.
July 28: Bruce Springsteen At Giants Stadium - Abbi and I planned this one for months, and dropped a few bucks. Bruce did not disappoint. He inspired.
September 4: My Thirty-Seventh Birthday - Here I was stuck in Los Angeles working hard, feeling old and hating life, and then I get back to my hotel and the nephews have FedExed my handmade cards, and Abbi I spend an hour on the phone while I drink beer, watch TV and eat a hamburger… and everything is as it should be.
September 15: My Emergency Appendectomy - If 2008 had a surprise headline, this would have been it: Stress Sends Benjamin Wagner To Hospital. I mean, I dunno’ if it was stress, or diet or what, but less than a week after our biggest Video Music Awards ever, I was doubled over on the bathroom floor and then — twenty-four hours later — in the ER. What you, Dear Reader, haven’t know (until now) is that I also found out I was going to inherit the news department that day. Which may be the real reason I was in the hospital for three days.
November 2: New York City Marathon - What can I say? Number nine. A beautiful day with my beautiful wide and two million beautiful, cheering New Yorkers.
December 1: A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II - I hope we can keep this thing going, cuz nothing makes me happier than puling together a dozen singer/songwriters, and making a benefit album for kids. This year’s edition was a terrific collection of songs. Moreover, though, between recording “Happy Xmas (War Is Over),” rehearsal, and the big release show, the group spent all kinds of time together. And had a ball. Oh, and raised three grand. Not bad.
Honorable mention goes to the birth of my niece, Ella Rose Wagner which, had I anything to do with other than showing up and taking pictures, would have rated higher. Also, presenting to a room full of media executives and CMJ attendees made for two big moments in one week.
Oh, and that evening on the porch watching a thunderstorm track across Nantucket Sound? Major.
So… 2009? Bring it on.
Bray’s Island, South Carolina (Winter 2008)
December 31st, 2008
Top Ten Songs Of 2008
I’ve said it before: music discovery is a young man’s game.
Try as I may, I can’t keep up with what’s new. Even with my day job. It all sounds like a rehash of The Strokes to me.
I spend all my time listening to This American Life, Fresh Air, and On The Media anyway.
And so, Dear Reader, I offer this modest but well-considered list.
These Top Ten Songs of 2008 include two tunes from old standbys (REM and Counting Crows), two cliches (Death Cab For Cutie and The Hold Steady), two friends’ songs, and two of my own.
Oh well. Sue me.
10) “This Is The New Year” - Ian Axel: A late entry, Mr. Axel’s song rounded out an excellent “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II.” Uptempo but melancholy, driving but reflective, sad but happy, it’s an awesome song. And even better live. Key lyric? “Embrace the past and you can live for now.” Amen.
9) “Stay Positive” - The Hold Steady: This baby’s no “Stuck Between Stations,” and this is no “Boys And Girls In America.” Still, props for a solid, fist-pumping, early-summer sing-a-long.
8) “Grapevine Fires” - Death Cab For Cutie: For the drum beat alone.
7) “Feel Like Home” - The Nadas: I fell for this song last year, but I’m going to give the guys credit here in 2008; “The Ghost Inside These Halls” was released in March.
6) “Freeway” - Aimee Mann: Ask the women outside my office what twelve words I sang over and over and over and over this year and they’ll likely say, “You got a lot of money, but you can’t afford the freeway.” No idea what Miss Mann means. Don’t really care.
5) “Hanging Tree” - Counting Crows: Even with a themed, double-album, these guys let me down. But the single worked for running, and somehow synched up with how the year felt. “This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time,” indeed.
4) “Viva La Vida” - Coldplay: A guilt pleasure downloaded while working in Los Angeles. How can one not want to run faster, soar higher, and live larger with a propulsive synth beat like this one?
3) “Man-Sized Wreath” - REM: Were it not for voting for myself, this would be my song of the year. I once ran ten miles listening to this song on repeat.
2) “Giving Up The Ghost” - Benjamin Wagner: I know. I’m a douche for voting for myself. And you’re sick of hearing about this song. I can appreciate that. But if 2008 had a theme song — singer/songwriter becomes media executive, bachelor becomes husband — this is it. Sounds happy. Is happy. But not without mourning what’s lost. Great solo too. (Thanks Chris!)
1) “Killing The Blues” - Benjamin Wagner (Featuring Jamie Leonhart): I should probably award the title to Robert Plant and Allison Krauss; I listened to their version of this John Prine classic ad infinitum this year. But every step of Jamie and my “The Invention Of Everything Else” version was inspired: from my discovery in 1993 to its rediscovery this year to recording it with the band, tracking it with Mrs. Leonhart, and then performing it with her live. Absolutely magical. Best of all? We caught it on tape. Bonus!
No Lil Wayne. No Vampire Weekend. No Fleet Foxes. Just me, and some old friends. I defy ‘09 to top that.
Top Ten Posts Of 2008
I published 205 posts this year. Assuming an average count of 500 words, that’s over 100,000. Compiled onto 12-point, 60-character, 5-inch lined, 250-word pages, 2008 would be a 400 long.
With an average readership of a few hundred friends, family and fans a week and nearly no revenue (not counting a few hundred bucks of record sales), I’d like to think it was all worth something. And in perusing the year, I think it was.
Taken en masse, my favorite posts of 2008 continue to track the shift that — in retrospect, anyway — the year embodied. Taken en masse, they’re all about giving up the ghost. Put another way, they’re all about growing up.
In most cases, though, it’s the style I’m proud of more than the subject. My favorite posts find me weaving together my present with my past, dipping into my childhoood (or beyond) for the source of something present. So if these four hundred, double-spaced pages amount to anything, it’s practice for that long-threatened memoir.
For now, then, here are my top ten posts of 2008 (in nor particular order):
Hide & Seek: A Consideration Of REM & U2: When I was a teenager, I wanted to be Michael Stipe. As an adult, I want to be Bono. What’s the difference? Read on.
Benjamin Braddock, Holden Caulfield & Me: Ever wonder why your heroes are your heroes? Or whether their heroic qualities age well? Me too.
Vows: I wanted to do my wife right on our anniversary without straying into super-sacherine treacle. If our marriage has a mission statement, this is it: I’ll work for your love.
The Screening Of Your Lifelong Dream: One of this year’s finest refrains was the value of silence amidst static. I found a tiny slice of it high above Los Angeles this June.
The War Of Independence: A Family Snapshot: This wildly-unpopular post was inspired by a newspaper clipping. The blurb — myself and two other Valley Forge Photo Contest winners smiling by our matted, prize-winning photos — jogged my memory, and prompted me to draw parallels between the struggle between the Continental and British armies, and that of my parents.
With Or Without You: Another U2-inspired post, yes. Moreover, though, an exploration of the value of epiphany (or adrenaline).
Paying My Rent Every Day In The Tower Of Song: Here, my trip to Des Moines (during which I opened for The Nadas, met Raining Jane, and generally agonized over the rift between my day and night jobs [aka my vocation and avocation]) returns me to the Leonard Cohen classic.
The Miracle Of Suffering: Sometimes, the most essential existential lessons are the hardest learned (shame I wasn’t reading the signs, though; barely four months later, I was on the floor again).
The Miracle Of Showing Up Every Day: The best moment of the year, though, was scarcely a nanosecond (good thing I caught it on film).
Underground: If I’d only known when I was sixteen-years-old…
So… about that memoir?
Maybe next year.
Rookie Mistake
I was never much with a shotgun growing up.
Not that I had a ton of exposure to firearms, but they were around. My father’s family, most of whom still live in Waterloo, Iowa, frequently spent weekends hunting pheasant, duck, rabbit and deer. Invariably, they’d let me tag along on a hunt, even if I did get squeamish when someone actually shot a living thing. And somewhere along the cold, tedious walk through some frigid, Midwestern field, someone would set up a few tin cans, position that shotgun in my arms, and laugh as the recoil tossed my tiny little body backwards into the snow.
Somewhere along the way, Christofer smuggled a pellet gun into our suburban Philadelphia home, and took it upon himself to eradicate the squirrel population in and around 416 Conestoga Road. At one point, some poor little rodent’s tail hung from the rear view mirror of his brown, wood-panelled Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser. (This would be roughly concurrent to the arrival of chewing tobacco between his cheek and gum. Classy!)
I’ve taken but one life with a gun: a dainty, fire-engine red cardinal who had the misfortune of chirping innocently just outside Jay Reynold’s window as he and I scanned the neighborhood for a target. We buried the poor soul in a wordless ceremony in Jay’s backyard. A few hours later, I was sobbing uncontrollably to my mother, “I didn’t think we would kill it!?!” I’ve had a healthy respect for guns ever since.
When I first learned that there was a sporting clay course near Abbi’s parent’s home on Bray’s Island, then, I grew a bit concerned. Not only was I fully convinced that the shotgun would explode in my face, I was certain I couldn’t hit a clay pigeon if I tried. That Abbi nailed her first only added insult to the injury I expected whence — heart pounding, palms sweating — I pulled the trigger myself moments later.
Alas, the barrel didn’t backfire in my face. I even managed to shatter a few clays. What’s more, I’ve come to look forward to my twice annual visit to the Bray’s sporting clay range. I’ve even gotten a little cocky, talkin’ smack with Abbi’s father, Richard, and sister’s boyfriend, Pedro. Unfounded smack, as it ends up.
Yesterday found me shamed six stations into the range with nary a tally to my name. No hits. No smack talk.
At some point, though, Richard mentioned “leading the bird,” and I started heating up. A few stations later, Pedro and I were nearly neck and neck. The loser was pledged to do the night’s dishes. Pressure was on. Cameras were rolling. Which is when this happened.
It’s arguable that one shouldn’t be laughing so hard when firearms are in play. As it ends up, Pedro’s “rookie move” — an unreleased safety — had befallen me just a few stands prior. And his sudden, miraculous and definitive bulls eye had tied him up for the lead.
In fact, in the end, Pedro had the last laugh; I did the dishes.
Low Country Christmas
Cashmere and wool were the first casualties of our arrival in Charleston.
The air was warm and wet. The sky wide and blue. Even with the wreaths that adorn the white picket gates of Bray’s Island, I wasn’t sure it was Christmas.
My memories of the season are whited-out and frozen-over, not laid low with mist. But who am I to complain? When Christmas morning came in at 67° and hazy, I lit out for a quick run around the ponds. The grass was wet with dew. The water was kissed with fog. Egrets and herons stirred from with each heavy footfall. I scanned the shoreline for alligators, Casey Shea’s “A Very Merry Christmas” looped in my ears.
Back home, I pulled on my brand-new, red plaid pajamas, mustered alongside The Keller Family in the kitchen, then dashed for our stockings. Santa spoiled me, providing me with sufficient quantities of Excedrin to get me through Q1 (or the Inauguration, anyway), plus enough running gear and Nuun to get me through the Miami Marathon.
When the hoopla subsided, and our scrambled-egg breakfast was all but a pile of dishes in the sink, we retired to the swimming pool en masse, and nursed cold beers until the sun fell over the muddy Pocotaligo.
Back home, we played board games as my friends shuffled on the iPod until we could sing and laugh no more.
“A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II” Raises $3000 For Youth Literacy
This morning, I sent a check to 826NYC on behalf of all the artists and fans behind “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II.”
Together, we increased last year’s contribution by a third by raising $3000 to support students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and help teachers inspire their students to write.
Thanks to singer/songwriters Deena Goodman, Chris Abad, Casey Shea, Derek James, Ian Axel, Jamie Leonhart, Dov Rosenblatt, Rosi Golan, Amber Rubarth, Bryan Dunn, Nate Campany, Brent Shuttleworth, and “house band” musicians Tony Maceli and Jamie Allegre for the spirit and song.
Special thanks to co-organizers Deena Goodman and Dean McCarthy of Rebel Spirit Music, and “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” music video director and editor Jonathan Goldner. Also, a special shout out to Chris Abad for moving the most CDs, and John Rosen for the single largest auction contribution.
Finally, thanks to those of you who ordered or downloaded copies.
If you haven’t already done so, it’s not too late. Both “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. I” and “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II” are available for download at iTunes now! Proceeds continue to benefit 826NYC.
Night Revolves On Invisible Wheels
Katie met Fabrizio as a child when she traveled to her father’s hometown in the Italian Alps.
Thirty years later, Katie and Fabrizio reconnected at a relative’s wedding.
Six weeks later, Katie and Fabrizio stood in a snow-swept cove of Central Park exchanging vows.
Abbi and I stood in the wings, huddled together against the cold. Abbi and Katie’s mutual roommate, Heather, presided. Her husband, Andrew, stood proudly just off my shoulder. The intimate affair lasted just a few, frozen moments.
Soon, the color palette shifted from chilly whites and blues to warmer reds and browns. The Italian Renaissance-style University Club on 54th and Fifth Avenue was built in 1899, some 34 years after a group of recent college graduates established the club to “extend their collegial ties.”
The foyer’s ceiling stretched three stories, framed by pillars and tapestries. Next door, the reading room’s immense oriental rug and finely-carved wood panelling glowed warmly beneath the thirty-foot Christmas tree. Upstairs in the dining room, white-gloved waiters circulated champagne, Maryland crab cakes and chitake mushroom pate wrapped in a crispy Phyllo dough.
We stood a while talking, warming ourselves with cocktails, then sat at tables named for Los Angeles streets. After dinner, as the jazz quartet coaxed attendees to the dance floor, we spied an arrangement of cupcakes. Eyes widened. And when the waiters served them, the color palette shifted again.
Soon, Andrew’s beard was covered in frosting. He smiled mischievously at his wife. She grimmaced. But the bride and groom, making their rounds, joined in on the fun. And for a moment — across time and oceans, through the cold of winter and rigors of antiquity — the night had a momentum all its own.
And The Winner Is…
A week ago, I attempted to move a few extra copies of “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II” with a raffle.
Every purchase automatically entered the buyer to win a copy of the charity CD signed by each of the eleven artists, plus signed copies of their respective CDs.
So tonight, I wrote everyone’s name on a slip of paper (one for each purchase), put ‘em in a hat, and had Abbi pick at complete random.
And the winner is…
Heather Stansfield!
I first met Heather when she hosted one of my “Almost Home” living room tour stops back in 2003. Heather was a student at Ohio’s Wittenberg University at the time. I was thirty-two — way too old to be passing out on the floor. We’ve been pen pals ever since.
Heather wins an amazing collection of CDs: “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II,” Casey Shea’s “Take The Bite,” Derek James’ “Stray,” Ian Axel’s “I’m Onto You,” Jamie Leonhart’s “The Truth About Suffering,” Blue Fringe’s “The Whole World Lit Up,” Rosi Golan’s “The Drifter & The Gypsy,” Amber Rubarth’s “New Green Lines,” Bryan Dunn’s “Static & Scripture,” Brent Shuttleworth’s “Witness,” Chris Abad’s “The Starting Point,” and my “The Invention Of Everything Else.”
Of course, there’s still plenty of time to order or download your copy of “A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II” before Christmas. It’s an outstanding collection of holiday tunes. Do pitch in!
And remember, all proceeds benefit 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills.
She’s My Niece
My college band, Smokey Junglefrog, released its third and final album, “She’s My Niece,” concurrent to our disbanding on May 15, 1993.
The title of the album was borrowed from a birthday card my bassist, Paul Perreault, had given me. The front of the card was a mixtape with a collection on niece-oriented songs: She’s My Niece (And She’ll Cry If She Wants To),” etc. We found it funny at the time.
My brother, Christofer, drove two hundred miles from Saratoga Springs to video tape the band’s final performance at the Zodiac Club in downtown Syracuse, New York. Later that night, we tossed a box empty of cassettes into the garbage alongside dozens of empty Milwaukee Best 16 ouncers, and settled into the couch to screen our final show. Sadly, my brother had used a Dig8 tape instead of Hi8. Our final show and “She’s My Niece” release party was lost forever. As we sat there laughing at our misfortune, the prospect of having a niece was the furthest thing from my mind.
Yesterday morning at 3:54, my sister-in-law Jennifer delivered a ten pound, two ounce, brown-haired beauty — the first baby girl of our generation. Last night, Abbi and I snuck out of work early to meet her.
She slept nearly clear through our visit. I held her for a few minutes. She radiated warmth, and stirred only to sneeze, cry, and make tiny, adorable baby sounds in response to my hushed singing.
Ethan and Edward stomped around the apartment defiantly oblivious to their new, fragile little sister. As the evening wore on, though, they settled. Just before I left, Jennifer placed her in their laps. Edward stroked her hair as Ethan gently and proudly cradled her. I kissed them on their cheeks, told them that I loved them and was proud of them for being good big brothers, and stepped out into the warm, winter night.
