Archive for February, 2007

The best thing to happen since John Mayer.

Wednesday, February 28th, 2007

I’m changing the damn colloquialism. Right here. Right now. Sliced bread has had it’s run. It’s over.

I got to see John-boy play tonight at MSG. My good Lord. I saw him in concert a little over a year ago, it was an in-store at Tower Records (r.i.p.) and I was blown away. It was when he first launched the trio album. I thought “No popular musician is this good right now, nor has one been for years, and nor will there be one for years after he is gone.”

Tonight I was beside myself as he was 100 times better than last year. The entire arena seemed to be filled with positive, karmic vibes. I don’t know how else to describe it. I was inspired, uplifted, enthusiastic, and just might have even had an epiphany. They say that after you’ve been around someone who is a great artist, that you will often be inspired in your own art and life. Tonight was no exception.

John, I don’t know if you will ever read my blog, probably not, but know this: You are music now. Keep writing, keep playing, keep being. You’re an inspiration to anyone who loves art in any form, and you are a great thinker. I am happy to be a small part of the flow because I know that you’re a big part of it.

Now, I know what you all are thinking - surely, Andy didn’t forget his camera. Well, you’re right. I didn’t forget my camera. Now, I also know that you’re probably thinking - But what justice can pictures do a concert? I thought the same thing - which is why I had my camera on movie mode all night long. And thanks to a spankin’ new 2GB flash card, I got all of Vultures, and all of the finale, Gravity, which included the addition of a very special guest helping to belt out the refrain (if you thought Jessica, shame on you).

The latter is 698 MB right now. That’s geek-speek for “to freakin’ huge to post at the moment.” I’m gonna cram it down to smaller size tomorrow and try and post it Friday, so look for it. No, you won’t find it on YouTube either. Just my blog.

I will write more about the concert later - I just needed to get some thoughts down. If you don’t like John Mayer, give him another chance - or better yet, plunk down $60 to go see him in concert (though he’s done touring for the time being). I can honestly say that he has changed my life more than once. Thank you John. I hope you keep getting back as much as you’re giving.

Here’s a little teaser for you. The special guest is in the shot - can you guess who it is?…aw heck, it’s probably all over the papers anyway - it’s Alicia Keys.

Anyway, I’ve watched both the videos, they turned out great - very high quality (sound is pretty darn good too)! Be on the lookout.

I forgot to write about this before, so maybe it’s not as funny now.

Monday, February 26th, 2007

Think back to long, long ago. I’m not sure how far back it was and can never really be sure (this is a lie, I could tell you the exact day, the fact is I’m too lazy to check). At any point I wrote a compelling argument for the foundation of a new religion, 24ism. Then, in a drastic power-play, those crazies in the Church of Scientology name Tom Cruise as their new Christ figure.

I thought it would stop there; that that was the end. They had done all they could and their personal attacks on my new religion would cease; we could live in peace - me with my gun-toting terrorist-killers and them with their crazy mind-reading light-sabers. Then, coming home from work the next day on the subway, I saw the following:

If you look closely, you can see that the man on the right is holding the light-saber handles and is having his “stress level” being evaluated by the machine on the table in front of him. Can’t really tell? Luckily, I have below-average Photoshop skills:

This was taking place at the Union Square subway station. It was at this moment I realized that I was the only true follower of 24ism in the area, and I didn’t have my gun. I looked around for a fellow follower who could draw on the power of Bauer, but alas, I was alone…alone like Jack is always alone. Then I felt it coursing through my veins.

It was like ice water. The world seemed to slow down while my own actions sped up. A gust wind blew from somewhere and although it had the head-turning stink of the subway I paid it no heed. Quickly, my hands shot out from sides as I grabbed a passerby in either arm, tossing them ridiculously at the table.

“Heathens!” I shouted at the heathens. “Have you no common decency! Don’t you know your target alarm-clock-radios with crazy lightsaber handles do nothing but eat souls?!”

Then I saw something I never thought I’d see. The two people conducting the experiments’ skin melted and their eyes turned to embers. Voices sprang out from their vocal chords so unnatural that all those walking (faster now) by who had Whole Foods bags burst into flames.

“Let’s do this,” pounding my first into my opposite palm.

They both sprang at me at once but I was ready. Watching TV every Monday night does that to a man. It hardens him. Makes him more than what he is. Stronger.

A throat chop to one, an eye-gouge to another, while myself suffering a blow a fist a piece from each assailant. I stumble backwards a little but am more unless unscathed. I manage to flip between the two of them and start hurling copies of Dianetics about like throwing-stars.

This enrages the mindless zombies as I am basically desecrating their bible. They flew at me, mindlessly babbling about not seeing psychiatrists. All I could do was react. I grabbed one handle from each brain-washing machine and rammed it into the foreheads of the oncoming goons.

They shook violently, spewing bile and, strangely enough, reading maximum levels of stress on either of the Target alarm-clock-radios. I had done my job.

Let this be an inspiration to all you other 24ists out there, let no one stand in your way. Fight terrorist in any form wherever you go. So say the teachings of Jack Bauer.

Voice – an essay inspired by a lousy teacher.

Wednesday, February 21st, 2007

Voice isn’t something you teach or coach. There is no “one way” to do things. There is no “proper,” no “perfect.” There is only flux, and furthermore flux that responds differently from the causality of different personalities.

To try and influence voice is to try and influence God with godlessness. There is only self, and self is determined by a lifetime of exposure and adaptation to all, or spirit, or God, or Nature, or life force, or whatever it is that you call upon or worship or put your faith in.

There are those who try to control voice. Passively or actively, some do it to themselves while others try to create what they see as right, everywhere they go. They see voice as tractable. They are the teacher who only passes failing grades and they are the misguided religious extremists (this being ALL extremes). They are those who fail to find their own voice because they have faith in nothing and believe what is told to them. They are the quitters who strive only to see others quit and become apathetic. They are those who do not understand that voice is individual. That voice is creative, chameleon, and true.

And creativity cannot be forced, it can only be allowed. No job, no art, no work will ever be said to be worse for being creative. This applies not only aesthetically, but also scientifically. Not only in beauty, but in form and in function. An artist may see a flower and see beauty in color, a scientist in biological process, a gardener in growth and vitality. A tone cacophonous to one is sonically enlightening to another. It is simple to one brain and transfixing to the next. It is green to one mind and verde to another.

Voice is written word, it is brush-stroked paint, it is molded clay. Voice means no wrong notes and no bad ideas. Voice is light and dark, brooding, miserable, angry, happy, silly, hilarious, pensive, thoughtful and thoughtless. It is mood. Voice is the effect of causes gone on for hundreds of years or only fragments of seconds.

To ignore voice is to ignore the self. To ignore the self is to ignore the infinite universe. And to ignore the infinite universe is to turn one’s back on life. See through your own eyes, hear through your own ears, and affect change with your own hands – all-stemming from your own self.

All this to me is truly voice. Not impressing someone, not doing as others do, not adhering strictly to form. A voice nurtured to be itself will impress all, it will both comply with form and add to it something unique and beautiful and possibly even “wrong” to it, and it will improve it. Nurture voice, do not fight it.

It must be all the times I split my head open.

Wednesday, February 21st, 2007

When I was growing up and going through grade school, junior high, high school and college, people often told me that I was weird. “You’re so weird!” people would say. Later “weird” developed into “asshole” and I’ve resided comfortably in that zone for a while…until lately.

I had kicked the “weird” thing. In fact, once I was out of high school my weirdness was pretty much gone or docile, or at least not apparent to everyone I met. But recently I have been told I’m weird by no fewer than three people. And not just a little weird, but “really weird” and “bizzare.”

I don’t want to be the weird friend. But if I must, then that’s okay because I am used to it. I just thought I had grown out of it. But maybe not. Because now that I think about it there are a tremendous amount of things I do that make me strange. Which is good because it differentiates me from the rest of you losers. And I feel orignal. And creative. Seriously! Feel me! It’s coursing through my epidermis! Sure it’s a little slimy, but it’s worth it.

Then I start to wonder what exactly it is that has made me weird. This is mostly due to a book I am currently reading about philosophy.

Anyway it’s a pretty good book and the first two chapters have covered the ancient question “Who am I?” and talked a bit about free will (that’s right Erik, free will).

At one point the author discusses how we know who we are, being that our bodies change every 7 years, so are we really a product of the person that grew up? Are the memories and experiences we have enough to make us who we are, or, should we techincally be new people every 7 years? It’s very intriguing and I wouldn’t do it justice to try and explain further, so I’ll just stop digressing….right…..MUSTARD!……..now!

So what has made me weird? Well, when I was a little kid I was always up to strange and zainy stuff. I stomped snails in my bare feet when I was three, I cracked my head open three times, I attempted to do monkey-bars with only one arm (the other had a cast on it because I broke it a few days earlier), and I was constantly trying to build things out of construx or legos and wished and prayed and hoped that they’d actually work (imagine my dismay when the completion of my Proton Pack made entirely of Construx failed to help me bust any actual ghosts…or just fry something up real hot). I was also under the impression my GI Joe’s came to life at night and gaurded me in my sleep, and developed an undying respect for The Muppets. Especially Janice. Total. Babe.

But none of that could really make me weird. Except maybe the head-splitting thing. I guess that could’ve caused some sort of brain trauma. But I imagine if that were the case there would be negative side-effects, and we all know that there is nothing wrong with me, and that I am terrific.

In closure I’d like to apologize to anyone I have thoroughly weirded out over the years. This includes everyone I have ever met since most people think I am incredibly weird when they first meet me. Or so I’m told. I still think I’m tough muffins. No doubt I’ll continue to be strange so get used to it or get lost! I don’t really know why I posted this. I really phoned it in today. Here’s a brief dialogue:

Jesus: Hey…hey Andy.

Andy: What?

Jesus: You ever just want to like, to like buy a boat. To buy a boat and just sail?

Andy: No.

Jesus: Me either. I’d rather go zombie-hunting or something like that.

Andy: Dibs on the shotgun!

Jesus: Aw fiddlesticks!

The only thing.

Tuesday, February 20th, 2007

The only thing keeping me going right now is The Story of Saadia Records:

The Story of Saadia Records

The problem is, the album is only ten tracks long. Ten tracks of pure, unadulterated, 60’s funk goes a long way, but sometimes not long enough.

Valentine’s Day: It’s not just for assholes anymore.

Thursday, February 15th, 2007

A lot of people think Valentine’s Day is some ridiculous “Hallmark Holiday” and come up with various reasons to hate it. The problem is, the only real reason anyone hates Valentine’s Day is because they don’t have a Valentine. They’re covering up the fact that they don’t have a date with the excuse that it’s not a real holiday or they don’t believe in how commercialized it is. Right. Because NO other holiday I can think of is commercialized. Then when they do have a date or a signifigant other on V-Day, they’re happier than Franklin at Snausage Hour.

Some people will tell you they’re not like that. They don’t EVER like Valentine’s Day. To me, these are the tremendously stupid. I can MAYBE see not liking it if you’re single and alone, MAYBE, but to actively be anti-V-day when you’re coupled? Get over yourself. Have some fun, be crazy.

I can’t remember hating Valentine’s Day ever. It’s great to see happy people everywhere at a time of the year other than Christmas or free cone day at Ben and Jerry’s. Couples get an excuse to baby each other and the other cool thing is that gifts aren’t usually expensive. Some flowers, maybe some candy - I’m sure some people give really expensive stuff but I always look at Valentine’s Day as very much a “thought that counts” holiday.

Whenever I picture someone that hates Valentine’s Day, I always just think they must be a huge a jerk. Because if you can’t find a reason to be happy, then you might as well just die:

(Andy is walking down the street and runs into Person, who hates Valentine’s Day)

Person: (shouting) Get outta my way!

Andy: (shouting back) Are you talking to me?

Person: Yes!

Andy: Oh…why?

Person: Stop shouting at me!

Andy: But you’re across the street and there is a lot of traffic!

Person: Shutup!

Andy: Alright. I’m not sure why I am even talking to you.

Person: …

Andy: …

Franklin: ….hello!

Andy: Franklin?

Person: I hate Valentine’s Day!

Franklin: Oh, that’s terrible! Why do you hate Valentine’s Day?

Andy: Franklin, what are you doing over there?

Franklin: I’m talking to this guy!

Andy: I’m crossing the street.

Person: I hate Valentine’s Day because it’s so commercial! So I wear black! Because it’s awesome! And I am filled with hate!

Franklin: I’m filled with jelly beans!

Andy: Franklin! Who gave you jelly beans?!

Franklin: The Valentine’s Day bunny.

Andy: There is no such thing, Franklin.

Franklin: What?!

Andy: The Easter Bunny gives out jelly beans. There is no bunny, or any other mammal in the leporidae family, associated with Valentine’s Day. Typically, it is a small baby that flies and shoots arrows of love into people - his name is Cupid.

Franklin: Maybe it was a turtle…

Person: Hey! Is anyone listening to me?!

Andy: A turtle?

Franklin: Yeah. Is there a Valentine’s Day turtle?

Andy: No. Just cupid.

Franklin: Well, I certainly would’ve noticed a flying rabbit shooting jelly beans at me.

Andy: No Franklin, it’s a flying baby shooting ar-

Franklin: If I could fly I wouldn’t shoot people with jellybeans. The potential for injury and liability there is just too great. I would just drop Snausages from above.

Andy: Probably a good plan Franklin.

Franklin: Probably! Well, I’m gonna go see if I can find that turtle who gave me the jelly beans again. He carries his house on his back!

Andy: *exasperated sigh*

Person: ….this conversation wasn’t about Valentine’s Day at all.

Andy: You’re still here?

Person: Yeah. But not for long. I’m going with that dog to see if I can help him find the Valentine’s Day Jelly Bean-dispensing flying rabbit-turtle-baby.

Oh Pandora, your box always knows just what I need.

Monday, February 12th, 2007

Wednesday night I decided to take some time from my typically busy schedule of blasting terrorists with American justice to go to Cinema Village on 12th and University to check out a “Town Hall Meeting” hosted by Pandora’s founder, Tim Westergren.

Before I get into the actual meeting I’d like to explain Pandora a bit, in case you haven’t been there or used it yourself.

It is a website based upon, what Mr. Westergreen calls, “The Music Genome Project.” The aim of this project is to use a lengthy list of attributes (just shy of 400) to classify songs. The website initially asks you for a favorite artist or song, then acts as a personal DJ, playing music with similar matching attributes.

As songs come up you can give them a thumbs up or thumbs down, which will indicate to Pandora which direction to take you next for music. Also during the process, you’re able to see information about why Pandora has chosen to play the particular track. It’s pretty cool and if you have a few minutes and want to hear some new stuff, I highly encourage you to go check it out.

Personally I had used Pandora before the town hall meeting, probably when it was first getting off the ground. I found it missed the mark quite a bit (I created a station based on Pat Metheney which lead me to a Javon Jackson CD – which was great – but then it started playing all this smooth “jazz” and…well, let’s just say smooth “jazz” does anything but make me want to continue listening to a radio station).

I went to the meeting a little skeptical and with my music snobbery in full effect. I heard some of the conversations in the lobby of the theatre (we had to wait 45 minutes for a French film to end) and noticed that the attendees were pretty much who I thought they’d be: to-cool hipsters, wanna-be artists, professorial music nerds, the average joes, and of course, a couple of crazies.

Tim was standing just inside the lobby when I got in and I wanted to meet him and say hello, unfortunately I didn’t get to as he was swarmed by the crazies and wanna-bes.

As the meeting started and Tim started talking about the very interesting history of The Music Genome Project and Pandora and he mentioned he is a musician. Just a side note, if I here someone say “I’m a musician” , I don’t usually give them the benefit of the doubt and think “so are you a dj or do you play an acoustic guitar for your girlfriend?” This was no exception.

However, as he went on to speak a bit more I came to find out that he was a piano player and had worked as a film composer for some years. I was shocked. I was so sure that he’d be some programming nerd-store who listened to indie-rock and cried in the dark (all based on the fact that Pandora chose to play me smooth jazz).
As he explained more about the company I grew more and more impressed with his vision, and his mission. Pandora adds 15,000 songs each month to it’s already massive database. They receive 45,000 to analyze, so obviously they’re fairly stringent with what they accept.

I couldn’t believe this. I thought, “Are you kidding me? How on earth do they qualify the music? They have a bunch of programmers analyzing songs for this thing?!” I raised my hand.

Tim called on me and I posed my question (and you’d be surprised at how nicely I did it too – Tim even complimented me on how diplomatic it was).

“If you receive that many songs per month, and you say that a great majority of them are on very small labels, unsigned, or just CDR’s with sharpied track titles on them, how do you qualify them? Because as we all know, there is a lot of music out there. Some of it is…good…but other music is really good.”

I was blown away by his answer.

Pandora hires musicians with 4-year degrees who must pass a music theory exam (similar to the ones you’d take to get into graduate school for music) in order to be hired.

I was so, so happy. Finally. Someone who gets it. Imagine! Musicians choosing music for the public to hear! Not some asshole A&R rep who switched over from accounting and has a background in being a douchebag and loving Nickelback. Not some moron executive who’s little girl really likes how pretty Justin Timberlake is. Musicians. With degrees! Who have to pass theory exams! Genius.

He had me sold right there and I kept buying as he kept selling. They classify songs based on about 400 attributes that were pre-set and agreed upon by the original staff of musicians. Anyone can submit music to the company. They pay their royalties. They abide by the DMCA (which I hate but, it’s a must). And they employ musicians! And give them benefits!

He also explained that one of his goals with Pandora is to create a “musician middle-class.” In other words, he wants people to submit their music and make enough royalties off of it, maybe not to survive, but certainly to grant them some extra income. I like this idea a lot too. He is basically saying “hey record labels, you guys are morons, this is how you bring great music to people and at the same time treat the musicians fairly.”

Then he went on to explain a bit more about submissions. He said: “At no time will you hear something on Pandora because someone paid for it to be there.” That got resounding applause. At the same time he voiced his concern that each individual who wanted to submit music should really take their time and put their best foot forward. They only want great music and don’t want to hamper the analytical process by having to sift through tons of garbage (which I’m sure they must do to a huge degree right now).

At any rate, I hope you all will go and check out his site. It’ll be like having net-radio going all day, only you’ll get to hear great new music. There are also links to the songs on iTunes and Amazon, and you can also create a profile which keeps track of your “thumbs” and your favorite tracks. Enjoy the music!

Because I’m a genius.

Tuesday, February 6th, 2007

I wrote this post months and months ago but due to some negative results I took it down. Now I’m reposting it because you should all know what a genius I am.

Dating is probably a relatively foreign concept to most of the people in my age group. Not in the sense that we don’t go on dates, but because the word “dating” itself doesn’t mean anything. It is useless. When you first meet someone you go out several times (so you’re dating) and try to be funny and nice on the first few dates to sucker the person across from you into making out later. If you hit it off, things start to go well you start to spend a lot of time with the person(so you’re dating). Progress further and you enter into boyfriend/girlfriend territory (so you’re dating).

I was talking with my good buddy the Brewer yesterday and we both decided that “relationships” have reached a new and idiotic trend. All of a sudden, girls don’t want a “serious relationship.” Yeah, she still wants to see you all the time and go out and make out etc, but she doesn’t want it to be serious.

Not being in a “serious relationship” (last time I’m putting it in “”’s because it gets annoying) seems to entail the following:

1) Seeing one person exclusively
2) Filling various duties like going to dinner, planning dates, and being supportive.
3) Being introduced as “My friend Andy”

Alright, for those of you who don’t know, here is what being a boyfriend is like:

1) Seeing one person exclusively
2) Filling various duties like going to dinner, planning dates, and being supportive.
3) Being introduced as “My boyfriend Andy ”

Yes, the ladies have to make sure that when they introduce you you’re regarded as merely “a friend” so that all the other males think that they’re still available and should openly flirt with and pursue them. Because after all, it isn’t a serious relationship.

This isn’t so bad - I mean aside from the fact that it’s made known to everyone you’re introduced to that you’re not good enough to be considered a boyfriend and that she’s keeping her options open until the guy she really wants comes along - but I know if I were to go on a date with some other girl I would no longer be in an uncommitted, non-serious relationship with the person who doesn’t want to be serious with me. She’d probably be mad because I’m not taking things serious enough.

In efforts to clarify positions for everyone involved in these situations I’d like to advise that “dating” not be taken seriously at all:

Andy: Well, that was a good dinner don’t you think?

Girl: Yeah, it was fun. Want to come back to my place?1

Andy: No. I have some more dates to go on.

Girl: Seriously?

Andy: No, not seriously.

Girl: You mean you seriously don’t have other dates?

Andy: No.

Girl: What?

Andy: I seriously have other dates to go on.

Girl: I don’t-

Andy: The other dates I’m going on are not serious.

Girl: Oh…well…but you’re still going on other dates?

Andy: What’s wrong?

Girl: Well, we’ve been dating for a little while now and -

Andy: Yeah, but things aren’t serious. That’s why I am dating other people and tickled you with that feather.

Girl: Who are you going on dates with?

Andy: In efforts to follow your guidelines, I sought out some more non-serious people to date.

Girl: What?

Andy: Well next I’m going to meet this funny clown. She has a flower that sprays water! Then I’m going on a date with a hippopatomous trainer - hahaha, hippopatomous!

Girl: So you’re dating people that aren’t serious?

Andy: Right.

Girl: I don’t understand why the hippopatomous trainer isn’t serious.

Andy: HIPPOPATOMOUS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! (Andy doubles over in laughter)

Girl: I’m very confused.

Andy: Exactly. Because we’re dating.

From a chicken’s, from a chicken’s, from a chicken’s good, good heart.

Friday, February 2nd, 2007

Yes, that is Sheryl Crow twirling a baton…I guess this the retaliation for when you dress up in a bear suit and interrupt her while she’s on stage.

I wish this show was still on TV.

Thursday, February 1st, 2007

Man, why do they always have to cancel the best ones?