Blog Posts

Sometime just before I asked Abbi to marry me, I cracked open a fortune cookie that read, “Everything will soon come your way.” Not to gloat, but today felt that way. First, Jamie Leonhart and I made a date to sing “Killing The Blues” next weekend. Then, Chris Suchorsky’s Damnwells’ documentary, “Golden Days,” hit my…

I blame Jason Walsmith. It was last June. The 30th, to be precise. My wife, Abbi, and I had flown into Iowa City that morning, then streaked westward on I-80. My pal, Josh Davis, was performing on the Authentic Records’ stage at the Des Moines Arts Festival when we pulled up to Western Gateway Park.…

Yes, that’s Ashton Kutcher with his arm around my wife. I should’ve seen the signs: her new Kabalah bracelet, “The Butterfly Affect” in our Netflix queue, “Punk’d” on TiVo. And she’s been wearing a lot of leapard prints. If only I weren’t at the office all day, then in the edit all night. If only…

It’s Friday night at 6:43 and I’m still at the office when it dawns on me. ‘Shit, I still have to pick up the master tapes.’ Master files, really, but what’s a little nomenclature between friends? All I want to do is go home, grab a beer and hang with the wife. But Travis Harrison…

We’re twenty minutes into the “Invention of Everything Else” recording session when we start hearing a loud, arrhythmic clicking sound in our headphones. Travis stops rolling. “Ok,” he says. “Who’s got the bum cable?” Chris and I aren’t plugged in. Tony protests. “I checked everything before we started,” he says. “Battery?” Chris and I are…

That was some serious Clark Kent shit. I left the Santa Monica office at 5:43, pointed my Nissan towards Temescal Gateway Park (as I’ve done so many times before), and reasoned with myself the entire way there. “If I get there by 6:30,” I thought, “I can run ’til 7:00. That’ll leave me an hour…