The Black Forest

Random blaghness...

Get Off My Lawn!!!!

"Get off my lawn!!!" Remember that? You know the grumpy old neighbor that would yell at you for running across his lawn? That sad mean old bastard. Now. Now I occasionally have that same inclination. Damn. I'm turning into that mean old man all of us kids used to despise. Damn his eyes! *laughing* I say this knowing full well I'm not him, but I understand him now. The whole "empathy requires understanding" thing.

Kids lack the much more complex theme of respect. They confuse fear with respect. We adults still do. They immediately level the playing field and make everyone equal. The lines of property blur. Awareness of others feelings are drowned out by their own selves yelling out to the world "I'm here! Look at me!" This is being a kid. Self discovery. Triple underline the word "self".

It's not really about others until the teenage years. Then we become hyper aware of how others see us and having the conflicting feeling of wanting to be approved and assimilated by our peers and yet needing to rebel at authority to assert our individuality and our specialness. A balancing act hard to achieve with many stumbles along the way.

It was wondrous Hell being a kid. I couldn't wait to grow up. Getting control of my life. Or so I thought. Finding for myself that control is just an illusion to make us feel safer in this beautiful and sometimes cruel world.

I want my inner kid to live and thrive. I want my inner adult to lighten-up but still rule. Growing up diminishes the selfish tendencies and adds the understanding of others, re-enforcing the true reality of our connectedness with everything. To hurt someone or some thing hurts ourselves too. That we are not alone, nor can we every truly be alone, even though our bodies and physical reality seems to deem it so.

Yep. I want to hold on to the magical discovery and wide-eyed wonder of a child, and the wisdom and understanding of being a part of something much greater than ourselves.


September, Yucca Street, and Tree Living Punkers...

Sitting here sweltering at my computer transports me to 1985 Hollywood, Dire Straits - "Money For Nothing" came out, I'm seventeen years old, and my first studio apartment. It was hot like this, hovering around 100 degrees, my air-conditioning unit would ice up and I would have to chisel away the ice to get the cooled air out an into my 300 square foot room. In these "olden" times, Hollywood was much skankier on the strip. The day I moved in, there were all these women at my apartment complex. Lots of smiles and stare-downs headed my way like arrows at Little Bighorn, while I was unloading everything I owned in Chevy S-10 pickup. I thought to myself "Wow! I haven't even moved in yet and adventure is already swirling around me!" I started to talking to one girl, we were laughing and getting along pretty good, when more women came into the complex...then it hit me...internal dialogue-"Hookers!" Oh Hell...this isn't the adventure I thought it was. Embarrassed and feeling really dumb, young, and full of...I quickly unpacked my truck and stayed inside. Alone. You have to understand, that up to this point in my life, I stayed in my room playing guitar and never left but to eat, take out the garbage and mow the lawn. My social skills and worldly knowledge were of the pre-school age. *laughing*

Living in Hollywood at this time I grew up quickly, someone was mistakenly killed at my front door by a gang. It could have been me. My life threatened on two occasions by drugged out psychos, and someone else pulled a knife to take my candy apple red Gibson Flying V Heritage guitar from me. You know how many lawns I mowed to get that guitar? "Fuck you! You're gonna have to take it from me!" I pulled out my own knife that I always had cupped in my hand when walking the streets for this very occasion. Fortunately the guy found it to be too much work, so he just walked away cursing. Yes...I know...a Gibson Flying V...it was the 80's. I was in a metal band. I had just played the Rainbow Bar, I was underage, so when I to played, I had to wait outside most of the time except when and only when I was on stage. It was the time of Depeche Mode vs. Megadeth. You were on one side or the other. This is very funny to think about now. It was also when I saw the movie "This Is Spinal Tap" and when I seriously thought about jumping the metal ship and going to blues. Teenagers...

When you're seventeen, you think that because maybe you're smart, you know everything sans experience. It is in experience that life reminds you that you don't know shit no matter how many books you've read. I was humbled in Hollywood. Watching dumpster diving for food, drugs take over people's minds, whores puking up their job they just finished 5 minutes ago. Humbled.

One morning I went to my truck to go to the grocery store and my truck hood was all dented in and scratched up. There was a small group of punkers who practically lived in the tree above my parking spot. One of them apparently fell asleep and fell out of the tree and on to my truck. They were really sorry about it and they pooled their money together and bought me a case of Keystone beer. I was really mad, but I couldn't be mad for longer than a minute. I realised these guys had nothing. Not even a place to live. If you take the money they spent on the beer for me, it probably was 60% of what they had. Damn. That's a lot. In my mind that case of Keystone was one of the biggest offers of restitution and compensation from someone in my life.

I still think about those guys every time I see a parking lot and a big tree looming above the spaces. You never know what might drop out and change the way you look at things forever...

The Grand Illusion...

Art and Money. The grand illusion, and the great mind fuck. We need to stop trying to put them together. Money is made by a lot of things, but art isn't one of them. It's by demand. You wanna chance at making money? Be popular. Of course you can't decide to be popular. You are chosen. Popularity by itself does not even guarantee financial gain. Hence, the mind fuck. Artists should just try to make good art, art from within, truth or anti-truth, make their own way, and acknowledge art is for people. Money may or may never come. That is the true fact.

The idea that good art will bring you money is wrong. We all know a lot of bad art makes huge amounts of money. The idea that hard work will bring you money is wrong. Full time artists and coal miners can attest to this fact. Pure popularity alone will not bring you money, but it helps. The reality is that when the light shown upon an artist making him or her known to the populous, them being accepted and demanded by others increases the artist's worth in the monetary sense. Demand. Build demand and they will come. Pure economics.

Economics tell us that too much supply makes a lower demand and short supply makes a higher demand. If we go further...it's not just the amount of demand but the amount people are willing to pay. That's why some people see subscription service as the future. Small amount to pay but huge amount of people. Verses the other model of high amounts sold to fewer people.

However you wanna play it, it comes down to demand. That is the mysterious quotient, the hidden ingredient, the mystical mumbo-jumbo that is just what it is, like Nature, we don't have any control over it. Some people say you can, but these are the same people who will tell you about it for $39.99. *laughing*

If we as artists can just accept this like we do about many other things in life, we can get back to doing what we do, let the people decide what they want, and finally see who the "man is from behind the curtain".

You'll find it's your Uncle Vito, your niece Petunia, your neighbor Mrs. Feldman, and that damn asshole who almost hit you when you were crossing the street.

Remembrance and Residue...

The next morning from last night's show is always an extra hazy one. A happy hazy one. A slow moving 8mm movie morning that might even run into the afternoon. The strong urge to not really do a damn thing and just be.

So much happens during a show. It's like riding a roller-coaster and then trying to describe it. Hell I don't know what happened, but the next day, when everything is in slow-motion I can remember...and feel the residue. If you are quiet enough you can feel the residue running through your veins and mind. Of course it might be just the magic brownie/cookie I ate the day before, *laughing* but seriously, going deep inside I can replay everything. When I mean everything, I mean the "feeling", not the events so much. Movement is the facilitator of emotion for me. How I move, walk, or jump will push my emotions up or down.

I know you might be thinking "Dude...it's just a show. Some songs...and it wasn't even a big show. Why all the hubbub?" True. Though for me to perform a show I have to get emotionally involved and to connect with whomever is out there or on stage with me. It affects me greatly. Putting out all that energy weakens me a little the next morning, hence my dazey-hazy ramblings and perception. I get a second rush of endorphins the next day. Happy doing what I'm doing, even if I don't know how I'll be a able to go to the grocery store or pay my bills. I am crazy? Most definitely. I am humbled to be a full-time artist and I am grateful.

Record and Release...

Record and release...inhale and exhale...that's how I liken it. I'm beginning the next EP "Paper Sun" today. I'm in no hurry, heck my newest EP "Los Feliz" won't be officially released unto the world until this Sunday...August 23rd. No physical copies will be made. It's a first for me. I'm an old-school music man...I like physical mediums. I don't like it, no matter how much it makes sense financially. I need to bone up on my financial skills though, however feeble they may be, it's about surviving now. So no Limited Edition Vinyl, no CD's in any packaged format. The people have spoken (most of them anyway) and they couldn't care less about it being in their hands, couldn't care less about large high quality graphics, even sound quality. It's about convenience these days. Portability. It used to be radio took care of the music portability. That's dead. The lack of a music loving DJ has turned a once personal and creative endeavour into a spew from the highest bidder. It's down to us. We are our own DJ's.

It is word of mouth now.

"World of Mouth" actually. It is quite exciting in these Wild West Days of the Digital World. The Old Analog World has fallen, and in the little gap between worlds is high adventure! What's gonna happen? Up until even a few months ago I didn't even have a glimmer of what might be. I do now...and it's exhilarating to be at the beginning of a movement!

I must kill my old ideas of "how it used to be". The only thing that will remain from my old way of thinking is to try to make everything I do the best I can. No short cuts. Art is about people, not technology nor accounting techniques. The mechanisms have changed but the art shouldn't. I'll use technology as a "tool", not the maker. The rest is to the wind!

Okay...now I'm gonna warm up my recording gear...yes...it still needs to be warmed up. I am from another world, making my way into the new one...

Record and release...