087 Collections

I just wanted to stay asleep today. Seriously. Any important decisions, shows, thoughts... would have to be put on hold unless they could be executed from the comfort of my own bed... while asleep. But it wasn't meant to be. The annoying alarm goes off and it's purposely not within reaching distance. I have to actually sit up to bonk the snooze button. Once you've done that 4 or 5 times, it's pointless. You're already awake. And you're pissed.

I'm pretty sure it was a Jim Gaffigan bit where you're so mad that the alarm clock is ringing that you try and play mind games with it. RING! RING! RING! And you roll over and say, "I could get used to that. I'll just try and dream I'm in a techno club." Speaking of techno club, here is my cover of that classic Pink Floyd jam "Wish You Were Here." It took awhile, I know, but I had to get the beatz just right. It is number 47.

OK, let's get some other business out of the way. There are TWO City On Film releases coming down the wire in October! Wow. October 11 sees the release of the long awaited split 7" with Minus The Bear. We both contribute remixes by hot local knob twisters. My side contains the remix of a new song, "Pony's Last Trick," featuring some vocals and extra stuff I recorded in a parking garage in Birmingham, England. True. That can be pre-ordered at Polyvinyl Records. I think they are limited, but i'm not sure how limited, and don't quote me on that. All I know is I get my free stash tomorrow in Champaign so there!

The second October celebration is October 25, when Redder Records will be releasing the 6-song "American Diary" EP. You can pre-order it over at their website and download a track while you're at it. The tracklist is: 01 Mary I'm Ready. 02 Pony's Last Trick (original). 03 Astray! Astray! 04 You're Gonna Need That Patience Soon. 05 Well, It Goes Like This. 06 Conclusion... And it just so happens that Minus The Bear is all over this release as well, but that's all i'll say for now....



October starts tomorrow and i'm celebrating it with STYLE! When the clock strikes midnight I may be finishing up my set in Madison. When the clock strikes 9 am, a whole lotta stuff is going on sale in Riverview, MI, including some of my own junk, er, i mean quality merchandise. When the clock strikes 3 pm, I'll be starting a free set at Parasol Records. Immediately afterwards, they are having a 15% off sale everything in the warehouse including Roy Ewing's clothes. And... when the clock strikes 11:59, I'll be starting a set at Mike N Molly's, opening up for my old British tour buddy, Owen, as part of the Pygmalion Music Fest. That's some busy October 1st.

Thankfully, my month slides into a lower gear after that. But I do have to mention that I will be seeing Paul McCartney in Detroit on October 14. Oh yeah. I'm so sure that he won't play "Temporary Secretary," that i have made this pledge to others and now I make it to you. If Paul plays "Temporary Secretary" in its entirety, I will make a serious run for president of the United States in 2008. Please Paul. Keep it off the setlist.

Goshdarnit. So much said already and i haven't even touched upon the true subject of this particular post. Pardon me. Here I go.... I've been rebelling lately. Revolting. Taking a stand. And the enemy is... collections. Throughout my life I dabbled in the usual. Stamps, figures of various actiony kinds, posters, the usual media, records, dvds, cd... And I've even tried the markedly unusual, such as my fascination with Japanese gum brands or Brazillian soap. (Speaking of Brazillian soap, I sold a bag of it at one of my garage sales for a measly $2. Wow. I still own a hammock straight from the fucking streets of Rio de Janiero and if i step on it one more time when i'm trying to get a shirt out of my closet, it is going right up on ebay and hopefully back to Brazil. )

And this brings me to my point. As a full time musician with no true jobby job, every now and then you find yourself hurting for cash around bill collecting time. (If I could get in a time machine, go back to 1994, find the 19 year old Bob, beat the hell out of him and steal his credit cards, I would.) So the desperate eyes land upon the large shelf of records. The endless racks of CD's. Many of them still shrinkwrapped. Shrinkwrapped! As testament to the fact that they sit unplayed and collect dust waiting for the day that they can be viewed and appreciated. "Ooh. An unopened Bleed American CD. You and the other 200,000 people must be millionaires." I know I'm being crass and bitter but when tell me when does the madness end? If I can't let myself be happy now then when? If not now when?

So since my passion in life is and has always been to play music and not open any sort of museum, be it for banned / recalled records or Japanese gum... you know the rest. And my sick twisted justification is that, well, once the shippy ship comes in and the time comes when that big empty mantle looks sickly and bare without the unopened Bleed American CD, then i'll just buy it again on ebay. It can't be that hard to find. And really, when you think about it, tracking the damn thing down is 93% of the fun of collecting, right?

With that being said, there are certain loved and cherished items that i will never let go of. For instance, it will be a cold day in Rio de Janiero before I put my vinyl of Jeff Buckley's "Sketches For My Sweetheart The Drunk" with the extra track up on the auction block. Why? Well, because i listen to it. A lot. Same goes for McCartney II. Or The Wall for that matter... And even after my most recent purge, there are still 300-400 CDs left up on the racks, at least 100 of which will never leave my grubby hands. As a 75 year old codger, I will still have Allroy's Revenge, London Calling, and Here Comes Everyone in my collection. Did I just give equal weight and consideration to The Clash, All, and Aloha? Damn right. Now where's my medicine?

...one more thing... You can probably name 50 Clash covers and at least 10 All/Descendents covers but can you name any Aloha covers? Now you can. After you pre-order the American Diary EP, go check out the "What Matters Most" compilation at Welcome Home Records, also out October 25 and featuring yep, you know what, you know who.

086 Who Wants Records?

As I'm perusing all of these records that i'm going to be selling in the October 1 citywide garage sale, i can't help but think that everyone should get a chance to nab what they may want from this mess... Ditto for all of these books... Hmm. I'm considering listing them all right here. I dunno, i dunno, i dunno...

...decided not to. Just going to let em go at the garage sale.

085 Just In Case

OK, let's begin. I have this large anvil-esque case that holds 2 SG's. In reality it can hold any guitar you like. You'd just have to adjust the heavy foam cradle inside. It's amazing. You can throw it off a bridge and your guitars would be completely protected. Click the thumbnails for a bigger pic.



Anyway, if you're interested, drop me an email and we'll work out a sale price. This would be pretty tough and expensive to ship so i'd have to limit it to folks in the Chicago or Detroit region... or you'd have to come pick it up...

I also have this bass case. Exactly the same but a bit longer!



There is more to come...

084 My Phone is Dead

Yes, it's true. It's taken too high a plunge too many times and now it has given up. Serves me right. Friends have been hinting that i should graduate up to the Motorola Razor and i've been doing the "yeah, yeah, someday" routine, but now it looks like it may have to happen. It's just so much monkey, though, and frankly I have little to spare. But come October 2, I may be singing a different tune... because...

There is a whole lotta preparation going on here in my home away from home away from home, Riverview MI. There's a big garage sale coming up and it's not just any old junk toss. It's city-freakin'-wide, people! October 1. It's well worth a trip to Downriver Detroit for this shindig. In fact, for the occasion, I'm selling about 100 books and probably 150 old records along with lots of old shirts, posters, knick-knacks, paddywhacks, and all that. I need to simplify, my friends. Sure I need the monkeys for my new celly, but damn, my room is a clutter-filled disaster area. Even after unloading the jettison, i'll still have trouble finding the floor.

This may be a good time to bring up the rummage sale that kicked around this website for a good month or so. Aside from the (mostly international) shipping problems, it was a raving ranting success and now it's time for part two. But I'm going to do this in installments. The first two items on the auction block will be anvil-eque metal guitar double cases. Confusing I know. I'm getting pictures as we speak.

(ooh, in the meantime, i'm catching up on all of my emails. It's been awhile.)

083 Tales From The Hurricane

Hey, it's been rough trying to get online lately and tough to write in general, but i'll be home tomorrow night and after a short relaxing calm, i'll be able to get back to where i once belonged and hopefully catch up. I do have some hurricane related tales, but i need time to get all of my thoughts straight. Someone once told me that procrastination is the fear of rejection. Could the same be said for attempting to be a perfectionist when relaying a story? But then again, why and from whom should i fear rejection?

So, hey, it's a rambling blog but it's better than nothing and with most issues in my life, if i don't deal with them now then they just do not get dealt with. They slowly fade into the distance and only occasionally jab back into my conscious mind to let me know how disappointed they are. Why can't you follow through on anything, huh?

I'm in Springfield, MO. I'm in the van behind a coffee shop using their wi-fi. I am relaxed. Last Friday I was in Pensacola FL. And i was in an absolute panic. Let me explain. My tourmate, Jeff Hanson is a Wisconsiner at heart and so, just like many other misguided Wisconsiners, he has an unhealthy obsession with the Green Bay Packers. To give you an example, he's on the waiting list to have a chance to purchase season tickets at the Packers' home, Lambeau Field. He received his spot on the list when he was born. He hopes to get them by the time he's 50. I'm not fucking kidding. The waiting list is 45 years long.

But whatever. We're in Pensacola and we are desperately trying to find a sports bar so he can watch the pre-season Packers game. It's not going so well in town, but I know for a fact that there is a strip of bars and hotels in Gulf Breeze, a beachside community that for all intents & purposes is on a barrier island over a large bridge from Pensacola proper. I recommend we go there. When you get to the bridge, there is a sign that reads "long bridge ahead, check fuel gauges." I look down and see that we are on E. Oh great. We get on the bridge and cross our fingers. I'll beeline to the first gas station i see on the other side. And I do. Although, we are quick to notice that there is a man putting shopping bags over the pumps. What is this? Are they out of order or something? We go to the next station and bags are already in place. It is all making grim sense now. The hurricane. Everyone fueled up and these stations are out of gas. Panic sets in when we realize that we need to cross even more fingers and hope that the fumes of the tank will carry us back over the bridge to the mainland.

There was a scary thought. Out of gas. On an island in the Gulf of Mexico. Staring down a level 5 hurricane.

Thankfully we made it over and stopped at the first station we came to and as you can imagine it was a madhouse. We waited in line for 20 minutes, but we made it. Our next show was in Baton Rouge.

On the way there, given the hysteria that had already gripped Gulf Breeze, we seriously doubted there would even be a show. As we passed through Mobile, Gulfport, Biloxi.... we were tuned to a New Orleans AM station for all of the recent developments. As we passed Slidell, we heard they had put Contra Flow into action whereupon all lanes of the Interstate flow away from the city to ease the evacuating traffic. We also found out that at the exit for Hammond off of I-12 we would be forced to go north into Mississippi aka away from our destination of Baton Rouge...

so... i busted out old Rand McNally and found an alternate route. A crazy two lane backroad and anywhere we could stop for gas on the way we did, hoping to not replay the Gulf Breeze scene. We arrived at The Darkroom in Baton Rouge and the show was still going on. There weren’t too many in attendance and the promoter blamed the hurricane. I understood. Jeff and I decided to get a move on fast towards our next show, Houston. Our plan was to drive a few hours and then get a hotel room. We merged onto I-10 and it was very apparent that there would be no stopping anywhere. The interstate was bumper to bumper traffic at 11pm. Every rest stop on the way was a madhouse. Every gas station and hotel was a madhouse. Cars parked everywhere, families with kids and pets just hanging around. With nowhere to go. Just driving... On the radio they said there were no hotel rooms available in the entire state of Louisiana. Someone called in to say that they had travelled all the way to Chattanooga, TN before they could find vacancy.

The usual 3 hour drive to Houston took 6 hours. Even way into Texas, a good 200 miles from New Orleans, there was still steady traffic. Like rush hour, but at 4 am. Luckily, we headed to our pal Ryan’s place and settled in.

Fast forward to last night. In Memphis. Our hotel parking lot was filled with refugees. Families cooking on a grill. Dogs and kids everywhere. A lot of the kids were crying, obviously extremely confused. And the parents just couldn’t really say anything. I suppose they are the lucky ones. Here they are at a Memphis hotel and even though they are running out of money from the price of the room not to mention the outrageous price of gas, it has the feeling of some sort of grim party. People drinking, smiling, laughing. It felt like that luncheon after the funeral. Everyone is eating & talking up a storm but in the back of their minds is the lost loved one that brought them together here. Except in the case of the motel 6 lot, the lost loved one is their home, their city.

In Memphis, at least, there are open arms. I saw flyers that advertised free meals for refugees. Arkansas’ schools are accepting children already and giving them free breakfast and lunch. And of course, the Astrodome in Houston has been opened as a shelter... They are the lucky ones.

The shows are never really that great but i always always love going to New Orleans. It’s always an experience wherever the night takes me. Bourbon Street, some seedy bar, a casino. I remember the first time i played there. In a house. A living room. With Castor. During our set, I walked into the kitchen and sang that part from Hugs From Boys while i was in there. I’d assume that whole neighborhood is gone or severly damaged beyond recognition.

And it is infuriating to me that people are dying because no one is coming to help. And whatever help came did not come fast enough, hence the desperation. The shootings. It’s not like they’re trying to take out rescue workers. They are trying to get help. I bet they are just shooting in the air to get the rescuers attention. Hey, there are people dead or dying in here. Come save us. But they’re not coming back. And another night passes.

***

This is the last night of tour and i can’t helped but be relieved because the gas prices alone are enough to call it all off. In fact, I am not going out west in October as originally planned until at least January and I may just fly there. Ol Dugan the van eats up gas like no other vehicle. Chews it up, spits it out and smiles.

I have more to talk about but the show’s about to start and I have to get this thang posted. So, um, i’ll keep you posted.

Remind me to tell you a story about Fats Domino. Some other time...