Black Mamba

Kobe Bryant lost his life in a helicopter crash today, along with his teenage daughter, Gianna, which compounds the tragedy to an almost unfathomable degree. 

Tomorrow isn’t promised, my friends. What we think matters might not so much, what we take for granted probably does, and, sadly, it takes the passing of a cultural icon to reveal what’s often obscured in the unruly detritus of everyday life.

Bad Guy

I referenced “bad guy” by Billie Eilish yesterday, and here’s a neat video Rolling Stone put out about how the song came together. Dumb pop music it is not.

In fact, can we do away with genres in general? We’re two decades deep into the 21st century, weed’s gonna be legal everywhere soon, and we’re seriously still prattling on about what’s pop, jazz, blues, metal, blah blah blah? I haven’t cared about genres in years, and neither has anyone I’ve spoken or worked with who’s trying, even remotely, to push the boat out. And I’d wager you don’t care, either.

If it’s, it’s good.

Very Few Idiots

There’re very few idiots who make it in the music world.

You might not like their tunes, or their vibe, but take a closer look at any success story and you’ll discover inspiring attention to detail - in song craft, branding, you name it - coupled with unwavering energy and productivity, not to mention an ability to manage personalities, expectations, and make decisions that impact livelihoods. 

You don’t have to like “bad guy,” but you’ll learn a thing or two from how and why it came to be.

Ripe

Caught my inspiring friends in Ripe last night at the Basement East. Their music’s really very extremely good and you should check it out.

Ripe’s starting to come up - it’s their first tour taking out lights, they’ve added crew, and the fifteen passenger’s been retired in favor of a majestic, only moderately befouled Sprinter. Their guitar player Tory put it well - we’re not talking about if anymore, we’re talking about when.

I remember those days with Al and the guys, and I’m excited to get back out there.

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Unicorns

...and the Allen Stone project’s heading back out on tour in a couple weeks!

I feel pretty good about my place in that world. I know what my job is, and having new and exciting creative outlets helps contextualize some of the existential stuff.

The unicorn rarity of the thing doesn’t lie in Al’s voice, or the band’s chops, but in that, somehow, we’re still here. 

Through every change in betting style, fans buy tickets, and the connection made via live music remains pure. I’m proud of that. 

Powers That Be

If you’d like to listen to “wake up with the sun,” you sure can…

For Spotify users.

For non-Spotify users.

And the song should be available everywhere. If it isn’t, let me know, and I’ll raise my voice to a compelling-yet-unobtrusive volume in the direction of the powers that be.

Promoting myself on this platform feels a little weird - I was, as a family member puts it, “born British.” But given you’re all double opt in lunatics who genuinely seem to give a rat’s patootie what I’m up to, I know that it shouldn’t, so I’ve decided it’s not.

Singing Souls

I’ve been in a bunch of bands over the years.

Most have been spectacularly unsuccessful, but taught me perseverance and borderline megalomaniacal determination.

The Al Stone project showed me, and continues to show me, that you can play rock and roll for a living, and it can be exactly what it’s meant to be provided you ask of it the right things.

And now Climb The Sky, reminding me that there’s always a next, an initially amorphous something, and you’re never too young, too old, too anything to do whatever it is that makes your soul sing.

Record Everything

A PSA to songwriters - record everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.

“wake up with the sun” comes out tomorrow, and I wrote the song’s main riff maybe 15 years ago. It deserved a home, but nothing good or trusted enough presented itself. So, much like the ring of power, the riff passed out of all knowledge, one of a thousand misfit toys in an external hard drive I call Demo Jail.

That is, until about eight months ago, when I found myself with a new band and a new song that needed an intro, and why not open Demo Jail for the first time in, what, two years? I clicked on something called “wibbly,” bracing for god knows what, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s the riff you’ll hear in a few hours. 

Some songs come quickly, and others take time, sometimes lots of time, and contrary to popular soundbite, one isn’t better than the other. Creativity always comes from the same place, ie you, and should be trusted. 

Phish

With their NYE concert this year, American jam band Phish has grossed over $50 million at Madison Square Garden over their career, evidently a record.

I do not care for Phish, but I do respect them. They know who they are and what they’re trying to achieve, whatever the hell that is exactly. 

And I suppose three trust fund kids and a registered sex offender being lowered from the rafters in a giant hotdog and noodling over an E chord for three hours makes as much sense as masked Swedish former lawyers singing in three part harmony about the devil, so who am I to judge?

Congrats, Phish. CK5 forever. 

Kennewick

You all know I’m obsessed with playfully satanic, masked Swedish pop metal band Ghost. Here’s a clip of their opening song, “Rats,” from their gig last year at the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA.

I grew up about an hour east of the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA, so even more in the middle of nowhere than the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA, and I remember how special it was going to see shows at the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA, because no one came to the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA, on account of it being the Toyota Center in Kennewick WA.

Ghost absolutely kicks the shit out of this song, even though the arena’s a quarter full and they’re playing in a town most Washingtonians can’t find on a map. I won’t lie, Tobias Forge shouting “TRI-CITIES…ARE YOU WITH US?” made me tear up a little.

Gigs like these change lives. I know first hand.

Splashes

I seldom know what my lyrics are about. I start forming words around a melody, and when something cool pops out, I run with it. I dig the lack of preciousness in free association, and it’s fun looking down at a previously blank sheet of paper and regarding a splash of your subconscious.

But the second verse of “wake up with the sun” does speak to something specific:

a window to the street

morning agony unspoken

we’ve all got trophies on our feet

from a fate defined in consolation

Being able to afford designer footwear on account of abandoning your dreams, to me anyway, sounds about as dismal a fate as can be shat from up on high. 

And what’s more horrible - enduring rejection after rejection after presumed insurmountable obstacle, or giving up before you’ve started?

Brilliance

Posting yesterday slipped my mind on account of the Tennessee Titans’ miraculous throttling of the Baltimore Ravens, but I’m back and in it to win it. 

So, “wake up with the sun,” the new Climb The Sky single, out 1/17.

If you followed my short-lived weekly song project, you’d have endured a profoundly mediocre incarnation of this song, performed by an ass in a red fedora. Oh, life.

Version 2.0 is, well, better. We kept my original verses and choruses, but the fleet-of-fingy bridge - the coolest part of the song - is Gid’s. The arrangement is also all Klein bros (Gabe, it turns out, is a gifted accordionist, because that’s a thing that people are). 

“wake up” is our first truly collaborative effort. I realized that if this band was going to get off the ground, I needed to invite Gid and Gabe into my world and trust them to be brilliant.

Neil Peart

Neil Peart, drum-nerd messiah, underrated lyricist, and one third of the greatest Canadien rock band of all time, passed away a few days ago. 

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but Neil was the primary influence behind this newsletter. The dude’s written, what, eleven books? At least that many. And they’re good. Confident, nourishing prose, disconcertingly candid observations about life “in the guilded cage.” For a musician seeking to dip his toes into the waters of the written word, there’re few better examples. 

And I connected with Neil in other ways. He was an avid reader and indulger in the arcane. He spoke like an anthropomorphized tweed jacket, coming across, unintentionally but not surprisingly, as aloof. He was nerdy and prickly and tricky to categorize, while being undeniably badass.

Rest in peace, Neil Peart. I’m glad you’re no longer in pain. You inspire me in so many ways. Thank you. 

Wake Up...

…With The Sun, the upcoming Climb The Sky single, is out next Friday.

I’m very happy with and proud of it.

Over the coming days, I’ll be sharing how the tune came together, but for now here’re the lyrics:

wake up with the sun

fall asleep with strangers

there is sickness in the noise

better get to know your neighbors

I have been lost

aim and take my shot

you gotta get in to get out again

a window to the street

morning agony unspoken

we all have trophies on our feet

from a fate defined consolation

I have been lost

aim and take my shot

you gotta get in to get out again

so wake up with the sun

I swear you are not in any danger

Be Kind

It’s easy feeling ignored in this business, but it’s seldom personal.

Take, for example, the state of my inbox. 

Now, you could say “oh that’s not so bad, you should see MINE” or “wow, you suck at correspondence,” both of which prove my point, which is, for all intents and purposes, I’m Schmucko the Clown compared to those with genuine recognizability and clout in this dog-eat-anything business, and I, woefully anonymous and lacking sexual magnetism, have unread messages in the thousands. 

So yes, the music director or A&R person you’re trying to hunt down is inundated. But that doesn’t mean they don’t want to hear from you.

We all have unique talking monkey problems. Be patient, be respectful, and be kind.

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Simoleons

You’d be amazed how many successful, recognizable artists live hand-to-mouth.

Touring overhead’s high, management and label cuts are significant, and generally the biz of show doesn’t pay quite what you think.

Spotify etc is wonderful, but we’re talking about streams in the millions before there’s enough money, say, to knock out a car payment. 

If you’d like to put hard-earned simoleons directly in your favorite artist’s pocket, consider paying to see a live show, splurging on the VIP package, buying vinyl or a t-shirt directly from the artist, or supporting via artist-friendly sites like Bandcamp.

We love you and we thank you.

Just Music

I’m writing this in the trusty ol’ Red Bicycle, prepping Climb The Sky’s upcoming single release, Wake Up With The Sun, along with re-releasing our other singles with new artwork, etc. 

A turning point in my enjoying starting a new band’s been embracing that I have no idea what I’m doing.

Already, I’ve made bush league mistake after blundering, head scratching error, flailing inelegantly in a universe that teenagers have mastered, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a tiny bit embarrassing.

But there’s something about jumping head first into a thing, with zero prep and negligible commonsense, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m learning stuff, and learning stuff quickly, and no one, to my knowledge, has died, or even been critically injured. 

I’ve made music my livelihood, but it is, at the end of the day, just music, and sometimes I need to remind myself of that.