It is the day after Christmas and all through the apartment, not a creature was stirring except for me writing this blog on some parchment.
Which is totally true, except for by parchment, I mean laptop.
Santa was nice. The reindeer didn't mess up the shingles on the roof.
I'm drinking tea. Can you feel the caffeine?
The Lakers won on Christmas, but my tivo lost, and did not record the game. Boo!
In the meantime, there's lots more family bonding and board games to be had before the Holiday season is over. Therefore, the blogs will be pithy for a few more days.
This year the meaning of Christmas is seeing your pint-sized relatives wearing their new pint-sized Chuck Taylor's with the special shoelaces.
I'm off to the post office to mail some Post-Christmas presents to some ZackHexum.com shoppers.
Don't forget to buy your ticket to the 3 Hour Tour before it sells out.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
the compact disc is officially released
We done did it. The CD release party was a full-fledged success. Many to thanks to the fans, the bands, and everyone else in the building.
Here's the setlist:
Done him wrong
Easy for you
What if I
Beyond my means
Only a rehearsal
Hold on
Who knew
Little city driver
Jealous guy
Open to close
One spin
I gorged myself on cupcakes and In 'n Out afterwards (take THAT Elvis!). In a moment I'm off to the Post Office, my new home away from home, to mail out last minute Christmas gifts ("Open to Close" CDs, of course). It's not too late to get your copy of the disc. In fact, it probably will never be too late to buy a CD in my opinion, but for that matter it won't be too soon, so what are we waiting for?
I've been listening to the song "July Jones" by The New Pornographers on repeat today because yesterday I kept saying "behind the daaaayliiight" over and over again. I'm hoping this purges the parasitic grip this song has on my head. If not, we may have to amputate.
On that pleasant note...
Merry Christmas!
Here's the setlist:
Done him wrong
Easy for you
What if I
Beyond my means
Only a rehearsal
Hold on
Who knew
Little city driver
Jealous guy
Open to close
One spin
I gorged myself on cupcakes and In 'n Out afterwards (take THAT Elvis!). In a moment I'm off to the Post Office, my new home away from home, to mail out last minute Christmas gifts ("Open to Close" CDs, of course). It's not too late to get your copy of the disc. In fact, it probably will never be too late to buy a CD in my opinion, but for that matter it won't be too soon, so what are we waiting for?
I've been listening to the song "July Jones" by The New Pornographers on repeat today because yesterday I kept saying "behind the daaaayliiight" over and over again. I'm hoping this purges the parasitic grip this song has on my head. If not, we may have to amputate.
On that pleasant note...
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Giant, Salty Steps
Ladies and gentlemen, when the oatmeal makers say "a dash of salt" they really mean one and only one. I made a bowl o' oats for breakfast and spaced out on that little detail. It tasted like I made my breakfast in the Dead Sea.
In other news, all of my headless-chicken-runnings yesterday were fruitful, and the first batch of Open to Close CDs were sent out (complete with autographs, if he/she responded to my email). You can order yours here.
I've been avoiding buying Microsoft Word because I am stubborn. (They say as a taurus that's part of my nature, but I don't believe them! I refuse to believe it! You can't convince me! No, I say!) As a Mac user I was then forced into using AppleWorks. Because of all this CD mailing I've been trying to do a "mail merge" to print labels from a database -"Musicians, they're just like us!"- Did anyone send me a myspace message about putting the cover sheets on the TPS reports? This is another in a long line of tasks I didn't imagine myself doing when I was practicing "Giant Steps" in high school.
Yet I digress, and ramble, and carry-on. Point being I downloaded an open source program called open office. Click on the open source link if you wanna know in-depth stuff, but essentially this means: the program is homemade by computer programmers just like... umm... "you and me?" Perhaps just like my bass-playing-computer-whiz compadre Bill Shupp. Point being, it's free! I also found a free PhotoShop type program as well as a free Illustrator program for graphics.
I made this all by myself:
Can you believe it?
I'll be going hog-wild with flyers before ya know it.
In the meantime I'll be playing my CD release show at the Hotel Cafe tomorrow (Thursday, at 9 PM).
Here's a hog-wild flyer just for you, dear readers:
In other news, all of my headless-chicken-runnings yesterday were fruitful, and the first batch of Open to Close CDs were sent out (complete with autographs, if he/she responded to my email). You can order yours here.
I've been avoiding buying Microsoft Word because I am stubborn. (They say as a taurus that's part of my nature, but I don't believe them! I refuse to believe it! You can't convince me! No, I say!) As a Mac user I was then forced into using AppleWorks. Because of all this CD mailing I've been trying to do a "mail merge" to print labels from a database -"Musicians, they're just like us!"- Did anyone send me a myspace message about putting the cover sheets on the TPS reports? This is another in a long line of tasks I didn't imagine myself doing when I was practicing "Giant Steps" in high school.
Yet I digress, and ramble, and carry-on. Point being I downloaded an open source program called open office. Click on the open source link if you wanna know in-depth stuff, but essentially this means: the program is homemade by computer programmers just like... umm... "you and me?" Perhaps just like my bass-playing-computer-whiz compadre Bill Shupp. Point being, it's free! I also found a free PhotoShop type program as well as a free Illustrator program for graphics.
I made this all by myself:
Can you believe it?
I'll be going hog-wild with flyers before ya know it.
In the meantime I'll be playing my CD release show at the Hotel Cafe tomorrow (Thursday, at 9 PM).
Here's a hog-wild flyer just for you, dear readers:
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Tour Cliff Notes
Where does the time go?
I've got a magna carta sized list of things to do now that I'm back insunny rainy California.
So I'll write a brief synopsis of the plot from the final week of the December Tour:
Knickerbocker's in Lincoln was grand and started a three day stretch of seeing my name gently misspelled, this time as "Zak Hexum".
Jerry's Bait Shop in Kansas City was also grand. Lots of familiar faces (at all of the gigs, really). Tyson Leslie sat in on keys. He's my hero. My name was written as simply "Zak", no last name. If I become a pro-wrestler, this might be the way to do it.
Rock 'n Racquets at the Qwest Center: the anthem went very well (my dad liked it, too). I give myself an A minus, because there's always room for improvement. I was supposed to go on at 7 o'clock or so. We ended up starting about a half hour late. I spent that entire half hour pacing back and forth and lightly singing "oh say", "oh say", "oh say" a billionty times, so I wouldn't forget the key. This was akin to a basketball team taking a time out before the second free throw at the end of the game, but hoorah, it worked out.
Also, at Rock 'n Racquets, I got to play two points with Andy Roddick. The first one was nice and slow. The second one, he turned up the heat because the M.C. told him he had to rap if he lost the point. I saw my life flash before my eyes when he hit that ball at me. By the glory of luck, I returned one lightning fast stroke, yet was unable to make it to the other side of the court for his return.
Mick's in Omaha was great, filled with friends from elementary school and old high school teachers.
That's all I got for now.
Here's a flyer for Thursday's show:
I've got a magna carta sized list of things to do now that I'm back in
So I'll write a brief synopsis of the plot from the final week of the December Tour:
Knickerbocker's in Lincoln was grand and started a three day stretch of seeing my name gently misspelled, this time as "Zak Hexum".
Jerry's Bait Shop in Kansas City was also grand. Lots of familiar faces (at all of the gigs, really). Tyson Leslie sat in on keys. He's my hero. My name was written as simply "Zak", no last name. If I become a pro-wrestler, this might be the way to do it.
Rock 'n Racquets at the Qwest Center: the anthem went very well (my dad liked it, too). I give myself an A minus, because there's always room for improvement. I was supposed to go on at 7 o'clock or so. We ended up starting about a half hour late. I spent that entire half hour pacing back and forth and lightly singing "oh say", "oh say", "oh say" a billionty times, so I wouldn't forget the key. This was akin to a basketball team taking a time out before the second free throw at the end of the game, but hoorah, it worked out.
Also, at Rock 'n Racquets, I got to play two points with Andy Roddick. The first one was nice and slow. The second one, he turned up the heat because the M.C. told him he had to rap if he lost the point. I saw my life flash before my eyes when he hit that ball at me. By the glory of luck, I returned one lightning fast stroke, yet was unable to make it to the other side of the court for his return.
Mick's in Omaha was great, filled with friends from elementary school and old high school teachers.
That's all I got for now.
Here's a flyer for Thursday's show:
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
magic eight blog
Oh the weather outside is snowy
and I'm glad I don't have anywhere where to go (e?)
The first week of the December mini-tour is in the books. It feels great to be back in the saddle and seeing familiar faces in relatively far-off places. A special heart-felt thanks to everyone who came to the shows, and extra special props for the people who bought the new album. We've been pre-ordering the new tote bags and t-shirts. They're being shipped via FedEx to Omaha, so they'll be in the mail to your hot hands by the end of the week. The new album is officially available via PayPal through ZackHexum.com!
This week I'm back in Omaha. I was planning on getting back to ol' Westside High School and helping out with my old jazz band today, but wouldn't you know it, it's a snow day.
My high school friend Carey had a syndrome called "Bed, aaaah" that occurred on school snow days. It went like this: you woke up and got on the phone to call the school hotline (it was programmed on the speed dial of my childhood kitchen phone) and got the very rare, and very lovely recorded voice saying "Westside Community Schools are cancelled for December 11th." At that point you would most likely scream and race back into your bed, at which time you would say: "Bed, aaaah." Then you would sleep in real hard for two more hours. I imagined everyone in the city of Omaha doing this at exactly the same time, so if you listened carefully you could hear a few thousand kids hitting the pillow at the exact same moment.
Tomorrow I'm playing Lincoln, NE, followed by Kansas City on Thursday, then back to Omaha for the big Rock 'n Racquets event on Friday, and Mick's on Saturday.
I'm participating in a tennis clinic for Rock 'n Racquets on Friday. I'm currently wearing an early Christmas present: new tennis kicks. This is my first official pair of tennis shoes. No, this doesn't mean I've been wearing penny loafers my entire life, this means that these shoes are actually designed for running on a green court with white lines. I thought my court cred might be diminished if I was wearing my Forum-Blue-and-Gold (i. e. Laker-colored) Nike high-top-moon-boots. Of course my court cred might be diminished if I make an ass out of myself at the clinic, since I haven't had an opportunity to play tennis in the last week or two. Go easy on me, Qwest Center.
The Lakers seem to be doing moderately well despite the fact that I haven't been able to curse at the TV from the road. Whenever I write a blog that says they're doing well they immediately run off a three game losing streak. I bet you didn't know these blogs had such magical powers. Let's see if I can't create some other magic via weblog... Boy it sure sucks that there's no chance that they'll catch the scumbag who stole my alto saxophone last year.
Till tomorrow, stay warm, but mostly stay classy.
and I'm glad I don't have anywhere where to go (e?)
The first week of the December mini-tour is in the books. It feels great to be back in the saddle and seeing familiar faces in relatively far-off places. A special heart-felt thanks to everyone who came to the shows, and extra special props for the people who bought the new album. We've been pre-ordering the new tote bags and t-shirts. They're being shipped via FedEx to Omaha, so they'll be in the mail to your hot hands by the end of the week. The new album is officially available via PayPal through ZackHexum.com!
This week I'm back in Omaha. I was planning on getting back to ol' Westside High School and helping out with my old jazz band today, but wouldn't you know it, it's a snow day.
My high school friend Carey had a syndrome called "Bed, aaaah" that occurred on school snow days. It went like this: you woke up and got on the phone to call the school hotline (it was programmed on the speed dial of my childhood kitchen phone) and got the very rare, and very lovely recorded voice saying "Westside Community Schools are cancelled for December 11th." At that point you would most likely scream and race back into your bed, at which time you would say: "Bed, aaaah." Then you would sleep in real hard for two more hours. I imagined everyone in the city of Omaha doing this at exactly the same time, so if you listened carefully you could hear a few thousand kids hitting the pillow at the exact same moment.
Tomorrow I'm playing Lincoln, NE, followed by Kansas City on Thursday, then back to Omaha for the big Rock 'n Racquets event on Friday, and Mick's on Saturday.
I'm participating in a tennis clinic for Rock 'n Racquets on Friday. I'm currently wearing an early Christmas present: new tennis kicks. This is my first official pair of tennis shoes. No, this doesn't mean I've been wearing penny loafers my entire life, this means that these shoes are actually designed for running on a green court with white lines. I thought my court cred might be diminished if I was wearing my Forum-Blue-and-Gold (i. e. Laker-colored) Nike high-top-moon-boots. Of course my court cred might be diminished if I make an ass out of myself at the clinic, since I haven't had an opportunity to play tennis in the last week or two. Go easy on me, Qwest Center.
The Lakers seem to be doing moderately well despite the fact that I haven't been able to curse at the TV from the road. Whenever I write a blog that says they're doing well they immediately run off a three game losing streak. I bet you didn't know these blogs had such magical powers. Let's see if I can't create some other magic via weblog... Boy it sure sucks that there's no chance that they'll catch the scumbag who stole my alto saxophone last year.
Till tomorrow, stay warm, but mostly stay classy.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
a note
Just a quick note to say a couple of things:
By now I'm sure anyone who's watched the news over the last 24 hours has heard about has heard about the shooting at Westroads Mall in Omaha. My thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the victims. I'm thankful that my family and friends who reside in Omaha are all safe. I used to hang out at that mall when I was a kid. Scary stuff.
I'm hitting the road to Columbus in a minute.
See you Ohioans tonight.
By now I'm sure anyone who's watched the news over the last 24 hours has heard about has heard about the shooting at Westroads Mall in Omaha. My thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the victims. I'm thankful that my family and friends who reside in Omaha are all safe. I used to hang out at that mall when I was a kid. Scary stuff.
I'm hitting the road to Columbus in a minute.
See you Ohioans tonight.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
air quotes, lazer, end air quotes
I made it to the Midwest. Wouldn't you know it, it snows in December over here! Get out yo' shovel.
Airports and airplanes don't bring out the best in people. A ragaholic six-foot-teen-she-ogre tried to pick a fight with me for reclining my seat. I was hoping to avoid:
A. punching her
B. being punched by her
and
C. being tazed.
I succeeded, but it took all of the Zen I could muster.
Other fun sights and sound at LAX:
1. Man being cursed at by airline employee for being late.
2. Woman cursing at airline employee because she was late.
My solution? Taze them.
"Excuse me, I ordered a Diet Coke." Zap!
Tomorrow (Thursdee) I have a show in Columbus. I'm hoping I don't have to lazer my way through two feet of snow to get there. There was some start time confusion. I'm planning on hitting the stage at eight PM. Be there or be square, but preferably be there. If the snow is out of control and I get stuck in the snow in Indiana, I'll post it here.
In other news, they're raising the standards for MPGs to 35 by the year 2020. Does this mean that Hummers will be dirt cheap in 2019? Does this mean that SUVs will revolt like Johnny 5 in Short Circuit? Are we going to retrofit them with bicycle gears so we can still use them? If so, will soccer moms then have the biggest calf muscles in the world?
These are the questions I ponder.
Today I did a clinic for a couple of jazz bands at St. Pat's High School in Chicago. I talked about the nuts and bolts of what it's like to be astarving artist professional musician. I didn't tell them this old chestnut of a jazz joke:
Q. What's the difference between a jazz trombonist and a large pizza?
A. A large pizza can feed a family of five.
For the record, I don't think a large pizza is big enough to feed an entire family unless you get bread sticks and a salad.
Yet I digress. The clinic was a hoot. I really enjoytalking about myself teaching. The students asked some very astute questions. I think we avoided any "which do you like better, half notes or whole notes?" kind of moments. Hopefully the kiddies agree.
Till we meet again...
Wear your mittens.
Airports and airplanes don't bring out the best in people. A ragaholic six-foot-teen-she-ogre tried to pick a fight with me for reclining my seat. I was hoping to avoid:
A. punching her
B. being punched by her
and
C. being tazed.
I succeeded, but it took all of the Zen I could muster.
Other fun sights and sound at LAX:
1. Man being cursed at by airline employee for being late.
2. Woman cursing at airline employee because she was late.
My solution? Taze them.
"Excuse me, I ordered a Diet Coke." Zap!
Tomorrow (Thursdee) I have a show in Columbus. I'm hoping I don't have to lazer my way through two feet of snow to get there. There was some start time confusion. I'm planning on hitting the stage at eight PM. Be there or be square, but preferably be there. If the snow is out of control and I get stuck in the snow in Indiana, I'll post it here.
In other news, they're raising the standards for MPGs to 35 by the year 2020. Does this mean that Hummers will be dirt cheap in 2019? Does this mean that SUVs will revolt like Johnny 5 in Short Circuit? Are we going to retrofit them with bicycle gears so we can still use them? If so, will soccer moms then have the biggest calf muscles in the world?
These are the questions I ponder.
Today I did a clinic for a couple of jazz bands at St. Pat's High School in Chicago. I talked about the nuts and bolts of what it's like to be a
Q. What's the difference between a jazz trombonist and a large pizza?
A. A large pizza can feed a family of five.
For the record, I don't think a large pizza is big enough to feed an entire family unless you get bread sticks and a salad.
Yet I digress. The clinic was a hoot. I really enjoy
Till we meet again...
Wear your mittens.
Monday, December 3, 2007
no country for bad movies
Good morning internet, how are you? Don't you know me? I'm your naîve son.
Today is the day, barring any disasters, when I pick up my new album! They're going to be ready at 4 pm. The suspense is killing me. Will the liner notes be accidentally typed in Spanish? Is my name spelled correctly? Are all the tracks backward ("I buried Paul"?)?
I'm not really worried about anything going wrong, but it's fun to pretend.
I'm shipping out on tour shortly as well. Take a trip to ZackHexum.com to make sure you're in the know. I've added some Southern California gigs in January, including the infamously famous 3 Hour Tour. More on this in future blogs.
The city of Los Angeles is working on a sewer near my apartment. I can smell their progress, and I'm not enjoying it.
*Movie opinion alert- if you have any plans on enjoying The Mist, skip the rest of this blog.*
Friday night I painted the town in movie-popcorn-butter yellow and saw "Stephen King's the Mist". Can I have a refund?
I'm a movie buff of sorts. Thanks to Rotten Tomatoes I've had a stellar six months as a moviegoer. Into the Wild, Michael Clayton, American Gangster, The Simpsons Movie, Gone Baby Gone, Rescue Dawn, Superbad and No Country For Old Men have all been thoroughly enjoyable. Unfortunately, Beowulf was a step in the wrong direction, and despite mostly decent reviews, The Mist was a leap off a cliff into murky, crap-filled waters.
I'm not going to give away the whole plot line of the movie, in part because I don't want to give this movie any more brain time than it's already receiving, and also because if you're a glutton for punishment you can still see this film and have your own set of "are you kidding me?" reactions.
Suffice to say a movie that leaves all but the most obvious metaphor on the cutting room floor and goes straight for the jugular with dialogue such as "I can't believe you think that, people are inherently good!" isn't going to be dissected in a humanities class anytime soon.
On a related note, Marcia Gay Harden's Old-Testament-Bible-thumper has to be the most over the top, unbelievable, nuance-free villain in modern movie history. She did a great job of being annoying (the audience clapped when bad stuff happened to her), but lawd almighty! I'd rather be trapped in an elevator with Dick Cheney. There's not a trace of humanity in her. Even Anton Chigurh, from No Country For Old Men, was more believable in his outright disregard for human life.
There's a scene involving tentacles that made the re-animation of Jabba the Hut, in the original Star Wars movie, seem like a well-executed and wise choice. As Butthead once said, "These effects aren't very special, Beavis." A slinky wrapped in tin foil would have looked more realistic.
Today is the day, barring any disasters, when I pick up my new album! They're going to be ready at 4 pm. The suspense is killing me. Will the liner notes be accidentally typed in Spanish? Is my name spelled correctly? Are all the tracks backward ("I buried Paul"?)?
I'm not really worried about anything going wrong, but it's fun to pretend.
I'm shipping out on tour shortly as well. Take a trip to ZackHexum.com to make sure you're in the know. I've added some Southern California gigs in January, including the infamously famous 3 Hour Tour. More on this in future blogs.
The city of Los Angeles is working on a sewer near my apartment. I can smell their progress, and I'm not enjoying it.
*Movie opinion alert- if you have any plans on enjoying The Mist, skip the rest of this blog.*
Friday night I painted the town in movie-popcorn-butter yellow and saw "Stephen King's the Mist". Can I have a refund?
I'm a movie buff of sorts. Thanks to Rotten Tomatoes I've had a stellar six months as a moviegoer. Into the Wild, Michael Clayton, American Gangster, The Simpsons Movie, Gone Baby Gone, Rescue Dawn, Superbad and No Country For Old Men have all been thoroughly enjoyable. Unfortunately, Beowulf was a step in the wrong direction, and despite mostly decent reviews, The Mist was a leap off a cliff into murky, crap-filled waters.
I'm not going to give away the whole plot line of the movie, in part because I don't want to give this movie any more brain time than it's already receiving, and also because if you're a glutton for punishment you can still see this film and have your own set of "are you kidding me?" reactions.
Suffice to say a movie that leaves all but the most obvious metaphor on the cutting room floor and goes straight for the jugular with dialogue such as "I can't believe you think that, people are inherently good!" isn't going to be dissected in a humanities class anytime soon.
On a related note, Marcia Gay Harden's Old-Testament-Bible-thumper has to be the most over the top, unbelievable, nuance-free villain in modern movie history. She did a great job of being annoying (the audience clapped when bad stuff happened to her), but lawd almighty! I'd rather be trapped in an elevator with Dick Cheney. There's not a trace of humanity in her. Even Anton Chigurh, from No Country For Old Men, was more believable in his outright disregard for human life.
There's a scene involving tentacles that made the re-animation of Jabba the Hut, in the original Star Wars movie, seem like a well-executed and wise choice. As Butthead once said, "These effects aren't very special, Beavis." A slinky wrapped in tin foil would have looked more realistic.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Rice Milk Teeth
Have you ever been on a plane with a head cold? I have. When we were landing I felt that the forward momentum shove my sinuses towards the guy in the seat in front of me when the rest of my noggin stayed attached to my buckled-in body.
Other than blowing my nose a record number of times all is well. I'm picking my new CD up from the printers either tomorrow or Monday.
I watched a thing on the local news about people camping out in front of stores to get first grab of stuff on Black Friday. As soon as the doors opened they were sprinting through the stores, presumably thinking "I NEED STUFF! GIVE ME STUFF!!" I understand that if people didn't buy stuff for Christmas the economy would go straight into the crapper, but perhaps we can think about buying recycled stuff for Christmas. That's my plan at least. I found this blog that has some links to some cool recycled Christmas gift idears. That way you can fulfill the "I NEED STUFF!" side of life without requiring new stuff to be made. By the way, if you're in my family, don't click on that link, because you'll know where Santa shops for you.
It's cute when your landlord schedules a plumber to work on the pipes and doesn't tell you the water is going to be shut off. This happened to me mid-shower when I lived in New York. I had to get the Brita filter out of the refrigerator and pour it on my head to wash off the shampoo. It was so cold it froze my thoughts. I'll guess I'll be brushing my teeth with Rice Milk today.
Other than blowing my nose a record number of times all is well. I'm picking my new CD up from the printers either tomorrow or Monday.
I watched a thing on the local news about people camping out in front of stores to get first grab of stuff on Black Friday. As soon as the doors opened they were sprinting through the stores, presumably thinking "I NEED STUFF! GIVE ME STUFF!!" I understand that if people didn't buy stuff for Christmas the economy would go straight into the crapper, but perhaps we can think about buying recycled stuff for Christmas. That's my plan at least. I found this blog that has some links to some cool recycled Christmas gift idears. That way you can fulfill the "I NEED STUFF!" side of life without requiring new stuff to be made. By the way, if you're in my family, don't click on that link, because you'll know where Santa shops for you.
It's cute when your landlord schedules a plumber to work on the pipes and doesn't tell you the water is going to be shut off. This happened to me mid-shower when I lived in New York. I had to get the Brita filter out of the refrigerator and pour it on my head to wash off the shampoo. It was so cold it froze my thoughts. I'll guess I'll be brushing my teeth with Rice Milk today.
Monday, November 26, 2007
thank full of turkey
Happy Post-Thanksgiving, dear readers. It's been a great week, lots of bonding with turkey and family.
What am I thankful for? I'm thankful for the newly discovered "Magic Wand Tool" on the cheapie version of photoshop. We have designs for a new t-shirt and tote bag that were drawn on paper. There was a wildgoose turkey chase involving Kinko's and broken scanners, but in the end we overcame. Once the paper is scanned and neatly placed on your computer, you have to cut out all the white so the background is transparent. This is like removing the hay from a hay stack one needle at a time (at least it was until I found the magic wand).
I'm also thankful that I tried my hand at piano tuning this weekend. This is another arduous task, much like photoshopping the chest hair off of Robin Williams, but one that I enjoy. I got a socket wrench and went to town on all the As and Bbs I could find.
Use your imagination:
I'm thankful for not having access to the Lakers games on TV during their three game losing streak. Because why watch a bad thing unfold over three hours when you can read about it in five minutes and skip the agony?
It's time for turkey sandwich number nine (number nine, number nine, number nine).
What am I thankful for? I'm thankful for the newly discovered "Magic Wand Tool" on the cheapie version of photoshop. We have designs for a new t-shirt and tote bag that were drawn on paper. There was a wild
I'm also thankful that I tried my hand at piano tuning this weekend. This is another arduous task, much like photoshopping the chest hair off of Robin Williams, but one that I enjoy. I got a socket wrench and went to town on all the As and Bbs I could find.
Use your imagination:
I'm thankful for not having access to the Lakers games on TV during their three game losing streak. Because why watch a bad thing unfold over three hours when you can read about it in five minutes and skip the agony?
It's time for turkey sandwich number nine (number nine, number nine, number nine).
Friday, November 16, 2007
Climbing the Charts
Waking up to a weed whacker is not a good substitute for an alarm clock. In my groggy morning state I imagined a team of 12 foot-tall lumberjacks sawing my bed in half whilst I was clinging to my REM sleep.
Regardless, the show must go on, the weeds must be whacked, and most importantly, the cereal must be drowned in (rice) milk and made soggy.
Today will be the first taping of the Talking Music Show. My brother Nick, he's in a band called "311" (say it: three hundred eleven), will be stopping by to discuss life, music, the universe, and fishing lures.
I just now typed "talkingmusicshow.com" into my browser and found an empty, but nonetheless "real" website. Someone beat me to the punch on the title. As a result I've reverted to my old tricks and am using the babelfish translator to come up with a last minute new title for the program.
"Exposure of Music Communication"...
Not so much.
"Music That Speaks"
Maybe "Music Speaks" is a winner.
These are the decisions that control my day.
I have about three hours to make up my mind.
In other news, I have created a profile at OurStage.com. I'm new to the site, but it appears to be an online battle of the bands. This terrifies me a bit, because I don't have total faith in vox populi (how many albums did Creed sell?). On the other hand, why not? I entered "Little City Driver" in this month's Country/Americana contest and currently I'm 370th with a bullet! Look out world!
Regardless, the show must go on, the weeds must be whacked, and most importantly, the cereal must be drowned in (rice) milk and made soggy.
Today will be the first taping of the Talking Music Show. My brother Nick, he's in a band called "311" (say it: three hundred eleven), will be stopping by to discuss life, music, the universe, and fishing lures.
I just now typed "talkingmusicshow.com" into my browser and found an empty, but nonetheless "real" website. Someone beat me to the punch on the title. As a result I've reverted to my old tricks and am using the babelfish translator to come up with a last minute new title for the program.
"Exposure of Music Communication"...
Not so much.
"Music That Speaks"
Maybe "Music Speaks" is a winner.
These are the decisions that control my day.
I have about three hours to make up my mind.
In other news, I have created a profile at OurStage.com. I'm new to the site, but it appears to be an online battle of the bands. This terrifies me a bit, because I don't have total faith in vox populi (how many albums did Creed sell?). On the other hand, why not? I entered "Little City Driver" in this month's Country/Americana contest and currently I'm 370th with a bullet! Look out world!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Striking Out
It's a good day, folks. The Lakers beat the Rockets last night, despite making more turnovers than a bakery. My St. Louis show came together as did Lincoln. I'll be playing Pops Blue Moon on Saturday, December 8th in St. Lou and Knickerbockers in Lincoln on December 12th. The phone tag with the venue in Chicago has reached epic proportions. I'm considering resorting to telegrams and smoke signals. Despite that I'm optimistic, and as he whose name shall not be mentioned said fifty million times "we're staying the course."
I've discovered it's hard to play tetris if your head is leaning to one side. I was contemplating the day, in a sideways-Rodin-style pose, and all of the blocks were going one slot to the left of where they should've gone.
Speaking of sides and ways, last night a friend told me the other view of the writers strike. The producers (the people not holding the signs) say that they are not making any money off putting the shows online, and that the money to pay the writers what they want for internet residuals would make putting shows online a waste of money. I also heard that the top paid writers in TV get $400,000 a WEEK! OW! That hurts. From reading this blog it seems to be a bit challenging to figure out how much the average writer really gets. Suffice to say, Aaron Sorkin won't go from holding a picket sign to a will work for food sign in the near future.
Maybe MySpace artists should go on strike to get a percentage of the advertising revenue that we bring in! Of course, that doesn't make sense, since musicians need MySpace like Tyrone Biggums needs crack.
I do, however, advocate drug users going on strike against drugs.
And on that note...
I bid you a hearty grass-fed moo.
I've discovered it's hard to play tetris if your head is leaning to one side. I was contemplating the day, in a sideways-Rodin-style pose, and all of the blocks were going one slot to the left of where they should've gone.
Speaking of sides and ways, last night a friend told me the other view of the writers strike. The producers (the people not holding the signs) say that they are not making any money off putting the shows online, and that the money to pay the writers what they want for internet residuals would make putting shows online a waste of money. I also heard that the top paid writers in TV get $400,000 a WEEK! OW! That hurts. From reading this blog it seems to be a bit challenging to figure out how much the average writer really gets. Suffice to say, Aaron Sorkin won't go from holding a picket sign to a will work for food sign in the near future.
Maybe MySpace artists should go on strike to get a percentage of the advertising revenue that we bring in! Of course, that doesn't make sense, since musicians need MySpace like Tyrone Biggums needs crack.
I do, however, advocate drug users going on strike against drugs.
And on that note...
I bid you a hearty grass-fed moo.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
corn-fed blogging
A couple of items of interest in the Open to Close/new album department:
-The album cover is done and has been posted online for your viewing pleasure.
-I'll be uploading "Open to Close" to iTunes today so it's ready to go on sale when I get the discs back from the printers. I'll be picking up a thousand or so copies of the album in the last week of November, assuming everything stays on schedule with the duplicator. The album will only be for sale through PayPal, iTunes, and at shows.
-"Beyond My Means" and "Little City Driver" have been added to my myspace player to tempt your eardrums.
-I've posted tour dates in December. Omaha, Columbus, and Kansas City are locked and loaded. Still to be added are Chicago (we're finalizing a venue), St. Louis (there was a wardrobe malfunction on scheduling this gig, but it's still looking highly possible), and Lincoln, NE.
I live in Hollywood. I leave my windows open whenever possible (i.e. not when there are evil particles in the air from rampant wildfires). Because of this I can occasionally hear nearby neighbors arguing. Since there are forty actors to every palm tree it's fun to guess whether these arguments are real or rehearsals for an audition or an acting class scene.
Occasionally I try to listens for film lines I might recognize like, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" or "My sister! My daughter! My sister and my daughter!" or "go ahead, make my day." So far no luck.
Speaking of acting. I saw "No Country For Old Men" and it was alarming. It's one of those "stick with you"/"scar you for life" kind of movies. Be afraid.
Speaking of scarring you for life, and taking the "moo" out of "movies". I haven't ripped all the way through it, but "The Ominvore's Dilemma" is a fantastic and alarming book. What has it taught me thus far? I bought grass-fed beef for din-din, because cows are naturally supposed to eat grass, not corn. Cows have to have mad antibiotics to make corn digestible to them, and eating grass, if the cows are moved frequently, is better for the environment because it allows the natural cycle of consumption and growth to occur. Bet you didn't see that coming in this blog, did ya? Me neither. This is the part in the story where I get hate mail from my old Nebraska corn farming neighbors.*
*no, I didn't actually live on or near a farm when I grew up.
-The album cover is done and has been posted online for your viewing pleasure.
-I'll be uploading "Open to Close" to iTunes today so it's ready to go on sale when I get the discs back from the printers. I'll be picking up a thousand or so copies of the album in the last week of November, assuming everything stays on schedule with the duplicator. The album will only be for sale through PayPal, iTunes, and at shows.
-"Beyond My Means" and "Little City Driver" have been added to my myspace player to tempt your eardrums.
-I've posted tour dates in December. Omaha, Columbus, and Kansas City are locked and loaded. Still to be added are Chicago (we're finalizing a venue), St. Louis (there was a wardrobe malfunction on scheduling this gig, but it's still looking highly possible), and Lincoln, NE.
I live in Hollywood. I leave my windows open whenever possible (i.e. not when there are evil particles in the air from rampant wildfires). Because of this I can occasionally hear nearby neighbors arguing. Since there are forty actors to every palm tree it's fun to guess whether these arguments are real or rehearsals for an audition or an acting class scene.
Occasionally I try to listens for film lines I might recognize like, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" or "My sister! My daughter! My sister and my daughter!" or "go ahead, make my day." So far no luck.
Speaking of acting. I saw "No Country For Old Men" and it was alarming. It's one of those "stick with you"/"scar you for life" kind of movies. Be afraid.
Speaking of scarring you for life, and taking the "moo" out of "movies". I haven't ripped all the way through it, but "The Ominvore's Dilemma" is a fantastic and alarming book. What has it taught me thus far? I bought grass-fed beef for din-din, because cows are naturally supposed to eat grass, not corn. Cows have to have mad antibiotics to make corn digestible to them, and eating grass, if the cows are moved frequently, is better for the environment because it allows the natural cycle of consumption and growth to occur. Bet you didn't see that coming in this blog, did ya? Me neither. This is the part in the story where I get hate mail from my old Nebraska corn farming neighbors.*
*no, I didn't actually live on or near a farm when I grew up.
Friday, November 9, 2007
The taco conoco cat returns
I'm looking at the clock and it says blog:30. That can only mean one thing! It's time to get a new clock.
My musings the other day on the writers' strike made me think. If the Daily Show can go into reruns, can a blog? For instance I found my old Journal and feel I should share this little snippet:
"I’ve been thinking about palindromes a lot lately. So for I’ve come up with “bird rib” and “taco conoco cat”. We had a conversation back in Denton about a guy who came up with one that was several hundred words long. Scary."
There's no way to imbed html code for canned laughter, is there?
A new palindrome for ye: "word row".
I saw Mark McGrath at a concert yesterday. I met him back in '98 or so through my brother. He's very nice and told me that he came across my MySpace page. That makes me wonder who else has viewed this cyberspace that I don't know about...
Dear Pauls (Simon and McCartney),
If you're reading this, I'd love to play in your band and open up for you.
Love,
Zack
Dear Joni Mitchell,
I like your music a lot. I tell people that you're my musical mother. I don't smoke cigarettes like you do, but I'd like to go on tour with you.
Yours,
Zack
My musings the other day on the writers' strike made me think. If the Daily Show can go into reruns, can a blog? For instance I found my old Journal and feel I should share this little snippet:
"I’ve been thinking about palindromes a lot lately. So for I’ve come up with “bird rib” and “taco conoco cat”. We had a conversation back in Denton about a guy who came up with one that was several hundred words long. Scary."
There's no way to imbed html code for canned laughter, is there?
A new palindrome for ye: "word row".
I saw Mark McGrath at a concert yesterday. I met him back in '98 or so through my brother. He's very nice and told me that he came across my MySpace page. That makes me wonder who else has viewed this cyberspace that I don't know about...
Dear Pauls (Simon and McCartney),
If you're reading this, I'd love to play in your band and open up for you.
Love,
Zack
Dear Joni Mitchell,
I like your music a lot. I tell people that you're my musical mother. I don't smoke cigarettes like you do, but I'd like to go on tour with you.
Yours,
Zack
Thursday, November 8, 2007
They're the band that did the Macarena
I'm off to the laundromat (that's where all the billionaires hang out) in a minute. This activity is so overdue that sorting the darks and the lights is like opening a time capsule. I think I found a Los Del Rio '95 Tour t-shirt wrapped up in a dirty sheet. I'm going to be folding like a very conservative card player (i.e. often).
Last night I had a bundle o' fun playing in Laguna Beach with Reina Boone and Alec Bridges. Reina gave me a hat she made. I wore it on the drive home (which was much quicker than the rush hour(s) drive to the gig).
Today should be the coup de gråce on the album artwork. Austen's coming over to finalize the album cover and photoshop a mustache onto my elbow.
Last night I had a bundle o' fun playing in Laguna Beach with Reina Boone and Alec Bridges. Reina gave me a hat she made. I wore it on the drive home (which was much quicker than the rush hour(s) drive to the gig).
Today should be the coup de gråce on the album artwork. Austen's coming over to finalize the album cover and photoshop a mustache onto my elbow.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
blog writers lollipop guild
Of all the things I imagined I wanted to be when I was a kid, "web designer" was nowhere near the top of the list. That's probably because when I was eight years-old being a "web designer" meant doodling Spiderman on a spiral notebook. I've never been particular adept at doodling. I am decent at googling, but I can't say there's an art to that.
Point being, ZackHexum.com has been redesigned! Austen Risolvato did the basic graphic layout and I've done the programming. There are still some trimmings to add to this turkey, but please stop by and take a lookski.
What's so dang new-fangled about it? We used the back cover of the new album as the main image to give it that jukeboxy-je-ne-sais-quoi. I set up a flickr page to host photos for those of you who don't like "the myspace". All the lyrics from the forthcoming release are already up. I'm going to put The Story So Far and Realistic Fantasy up in a hot minute as well.
My weekday blog writing streak came to a screeching halt yesterday. I wonder if you, the bloggy faithful, got nervous yesterday that the blog writers guild went on strike with that other writers guild. Yesterday's absence was not a gesture of protest, I spent yesterday programming HTML like it's going out of style. Which in a matter of speaking, it is, but I don't know how to do flash yet.
As a resident of L.A. I get to drive by the striking writers and their picket signs. I wouldn't imagine that people outside of the entertainment industry feel much compassion for people who are at least successful enough to pay union dues in a job that one would imagine most often is a dream come true. Maybe you feel that this issue is akin to the South Park episode where they mocked Britney for not being able to afford a new jet because people were illegally downloading her record instead of paying for it. (For the record, I felt that episode was an irresponsible way to portray an issue that effects musicians as much or more than it effects popstars and record label CEOs. I don't give a hoot about Britney's "jets" either, but that's not why you shouldn't illegally download music. My guess is that cheap concert tickets are a thing of yesteryear as much as a 99 cent gallon of gas.)
I wonder if the writers guild has consulted these guys for advice on how to get what they want? I hear their pension plan is fantastic.
I personally started to feel compassion for the writers when I realized The Daily Show will be airing re-runs until this thing is resolved. Pay them! I've got twenty bucks I'll kick in.
If you're thinking you're having a bad day, just be happy this isn't your x-ray:
Point being, ZackHexum.com has been redesigned! Austen Risolvato did the basic graphic layout and I've done the programming. There are still some trimmings to add to this turkey, but please stop by and take a lookski.
What's so dang new-fangled about it? We used the back cover of the new album as the main image to give it that jukeboxy-je-ne-sais-quoi. I set up a flickr page to host photos for those of you who don't like "the myspace". All the lyrics from the forthcoming release are already up. I'm going to put The Story So Far and Realistic Fantasy up in a hot minute as well.
My weekday blog writing streak came to a screeching halt yesterday. I wonder if you, the bloggy faithful, got nervous yesterday that the blog writers guild went on strike with that other writers guild. Yesterday's absence was not a gesture of protest, I spent yesterday programming HTML like it's going out of style. Which in a matter of speaking, it is, but I don't know how to do flash yet.
As a resident of L.A. I get to drive by the striking writers and their picket signs. I wouldn't imagine that people outside of the entertainment industry feel much compassion for people who are at least successful enough to pay union dues in a job that one would imagine most often is a dream come true. Maybe you feel that this issue is akin to the South Park episode where they mocked Britney for not being able to afford a new jet because people were illegally downloading her record instead of paying for it. (For the record, I felt that episode was an irresponsible way to portray an issue that effects musicians as much or more than it effects popstars and record label CEOs. I don't give a hoot about Britney's "jets" either, but that's not why you shouldn't illegally download music. My guess is that cheap concert tickets are a thing of yesteryear as much as a 99 cent gallon of gas.)
I wonder if the writers guild has consulted these guys for advice on how to get what they want? I hear their pension plan is fantastic.
I personally started to feel compassion for the writers when I realized The Daily Show will be airing re-runs until this thing is resolved. Pay them! I've got twenty bucks I'll kick in.
If you're thinking you're having a bad day, just be happy this isn't your x-ray:
Friday, November 2, 2007
Charmin-of-the-Cob
Last night while reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan, I learned that back in the day corn cobs were "stacked by the privy as a rough substitute for toilet paper. (Hence the American slang 'corn hole.')"
Ow! I love the internet and power steering as much as the next guy, but I have never felt such a need to squeeze the Charmin to celebrate the joy of the truly essential modern comforts.
I wonder if Charmin-of-the-Cob was used in the ol' West. Regardless, I felt no need to achieve that level of cowboy-realism when I donned my cardboard hat and pin on sheriff's badge on Halloween.
Bang bang:
Charlton Heston would be proud: apes and firearm enthusiasts stand together:
Maybe the guy on the left needs one of these beers more than I do:
Tonight I'm off to see The Polyphonic Spree play at the Henry Fonda. My ol' college friend Zac Giffel will be playing the slide trombone with them. I know some trombone jokes that I'd like to share, but they all require visuals. Ask me when you see me.
I had a dream last night that a couple of musicians were trying to teach me a song by bass player Steve Swallow:
I'm currently enjoying listening to M. Ward's "Transfiguration of Vincent" album. Observation: he seems to sing with a lisp at certain moments. My favorite lyric of his: "if life is really as short as they say, then why is the night so long?"
Ow! I love the internet and power steering as much as the next guy, but I have never felt such a need to squeeze the Charmin to celebrate the joy of the truly essential modern comforts.
I wonder if Charmin-of-the-Cob was used in the ol' West. Regardless, I felt no need to achieve that level of cowboy-realism when I donned my cardboard hat and pin on sheriff's badge on Halloween.
Bang bang:
Charlton Heston would be proud: apes and firearm enthusiasts stand together:
Maybe the guy on the left needs one of these beers more than I do:
Tonight I'm off to see The Polyphonic Spree play at the Henry Fonda. My ol' college friend Zac Giffel will be playing the slide trombone with them. I know some trombone jokes that I'd like to share, but they all require visuals. Ask me when you see me.
I had a dream last night that a couple of musicians were trying to teach me a song by bass player Steve Swallow:
I'm currently enjoying listening to M. Ward's "Transfiguration of Vincent" album. Observation: he seems to sing with a lisp at certain moments. My favorite lyric of his: "if life is really as short as they say, then why is the night so long?"
Thursday, November 1, 2007
grip tape worm
Dear internet,
I hope you had a spooky Halloween. Mine was grand. My costume involved a cardboard cowboy hat. I'll leave it at that until I get the pics online.
Today I've got a little rehearsal on the schedge with my brother Nick for the first episode of the Talking Music Show. We're going to dust off an old favorite from the Hexum Bros. Tour.
Yesterday I had a conversation about my tendency to find a hobby or subject that is new to me and obsess about said matter until I become a "trekkie" on the given topic. Cases in point: The Lakers, hot tea, The Shins, Wayne Shorter, West Wing, Apple Computers, etc. It's akin to a mild form of autism. This tape-worm-like ability to digest a topic is why I play many different musical instruments. I hope nobody convinces me to try crystal meth or these blogs could take a turn for the worse.
Tennis is my flavor of the year. I have the privilege of calling Venus and Serena Williams friends. Venus gave me my first tennis lesson, and, thanks to my skills at Simon Says, won a racquet at a party that Serena threw. Because of this I feel that I'm cosmically required to become a good tennis player; people who play tennis their entire lives and don't have the good fortune to be friendly with two of the all-time greats. With that in mind I've been playing tennis four or five times a week for the last month, and I'm actually starting to feel like a tennis player and not just the owner of a fancy racquet.
It's strange watching tennis on TV when you're used to watching the NBA. It's as quiet as a library during play, which is disconcerting at first. The upside is: you have a zero percent chance of hearing Soulja Boy in between points at the French Open. Each time I hear a piece of "Crank That" a little piece of my soul withers up.
This is also a good time to mention that I'll be back in Omaha to sing the National Anthem and an original song for rock-n-racquets". Andy Roddick and Serena will both be there (and you can bet your grip tape I'll be bringing a racquet).
I'm not planning on doing this version:
I hope you had a spooky Halloween. Mine was grand. My costume involved a cardboard cowboy hat. I'll leave it at that until I get the pics online.
Today I've got a little rehearsal on the schedge with my brother Nick for the first episode of the Talking Music Show. We're going to dust off an old favorite from the Hexum Bros. Tour.
Yesterday I had a conversation about my tendency to find a hobby or subject that is new to me and obsess about said matter until I become a "trekkie" on the given topic. Cases in point: The Lakers, hot tea, The Shins, Wayne Shorter, West Wing, Apple Computers, etc. It's akin to a mild form of autism. This tape-worm-like ability to digest a topic is why I play many different musical instruments. I hope nobody convinces me to try crystal meth or these blogs could take a turn for the worse.
Tennis is my flavor of the year. I have the privilege of calling Venus and Serena Williams friends. Venus gave me my first tennis lesson, and, thanks to my skills at Simon Says, won a racquet at a party that Serena threw. Because of this I feel that I'm cosmically required to become a good tennis player; people who play tennis their entire lives and don't have the good fortune to be friendly with two of the all-time greats. With that in mind I've been playing tennis four or five times a week for the last month, and I'm actually starting to feel like a tennis player and not just the owner of a fancy racquet.
It's strange watching tennis on TV when you're used to watching the NBA. It's as quiet as a library during play, which is disconcerting at first. The upside is: you have a zero percent chance of hearing Soulja Boy in between points at the French Open. Each time I hear a piece of "Crank That" a little piece of my soul withers up.
This is also a good time to mention that I'll be back in Omaha to sing the National Anthem and an original song for rock-n-racquets". Andy Roddick and Serena will both be there (and you can bet your grip tape I'll be bringing a racquet).
I'm not planning on doing this version:
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
More Keytar!
Sunday I went to see the Thelonius Monk International Jazz Trumpet Competition and Tribute to Herbie Hancock. The Monk Competition is essentially American Idol for "the jazzers" except Al Jarreau played the part of Paula Abdul (well-dressed but possibly totally insane).
I didn't know this beforehand, but my friend Ambrose Akinmusire was one of the three finalists for the competition. Ambrose played in my "Roller Derby" band at the Key Club last year. At the competition he played an original composition, and survived a tune with the aforementioned beret-enthusiast-skoobedoobee-scat-singing Al Jarreau.
"Take this Ambrose!"
After the three trumpet finalists performed there was a star-studded tribute to the legendary Herbie Hancock. At one moment four of my favorite musicians were on stage at the same time. Wayne Shorter, Joni Mitchell, and Sting were holding hands on stage to present Herbie with a humanitarian award. I had a total comic book guy moment, "best musicians ever!" Happily I avoided weeping like an old-timey Beatlemania victim and avoided the temptation of leaping from my balcony seat to the stage to seize the moment (or Wayne's saxophone reeds). The good news is Sting didn't appear to be any less muscley or flexible after his recent award for, ahem "Worst Lyricist Ever". Although I might give him a second "worst" award for some gentle mutilation of the melody to "My Funny Valentine". Don't worry Sting, we'll always have Dream of the Blue Turtles.
To make a longer story shorter (Wayne Shorter, if you will), Ambrose won the competition and joined the other jazzy folk on stage for "Chameleon". Herbie played what was undoubtedly the finest keytar solo of all-time (which really is an all-time category along the lines of "tallest midget", but who am I to judge?).
Friends don't let friends use one of these unless your first name is Herbie:
Last night I continued my assault on the jazz world and ventured to the dicey territory of an open jam. In New York jazzy jam sessions can be the worst of the worst of the worst. Your evening at a session in Small's could be filled with what seems like weeks of meandering 8th notes from every janitor-turned-saxophone player in the tri-state area. Your reward for surviving till the bitter, 6:00 AM end of one of these is to see people out for an early morning jog before work as the sun comes up in Manhattan.
Yet I digress, the jam session at The Mint has been berry, berry good to me (it only goes till 12:15 AM, which helps with the "what-am-I-doing-with-my-life-and-why-am-I-here" factor). Case in point, the surprise guest at last night's session was one of the judges for the Monk Competition, trumpeter Roy Hargrove. Roy sounded great, wore fancy jeans, and claimed to not know the tune "Inner Urge" which he then played with aplomb.
Now I'm back to the work of harassing Austen Risolvato on the home-stretch of the artwork for the new album. We've got the cover picked out and all we have to do is photoshop my head onto Sting's body!
I'll be playing a CD release show on December 20th at the Hotel Cafe. More details are forthcoming.
Also, I'm playing a free show at the Ocean Avenue Brewery in Laguna Beach on November 7th. Here's a flyer:
I didn't know this beforehand, but my friend Ambrose Akinmusire was one of the three finalists for the competition. Ambrose played in my "Roller Derby" band at the Key Club last year. At the competition he played an original composition, and survived a tune with the aforementioned beret-enthusiast-skoobedoobee-scat-singing Al Jarreau.
"Take this Ambrose!"
After the three trumpet finalists performed there was a star-studded tribute to the legendary Herbie Hancock. At one moment four of my favorite musicians were on stage at the same time. Wayne Shorter, Joni Mitchell, and Sting were holding hands on stage to present Herbie with a humanitarian award. I had a total comic book guy moment, "best musicians ever!" Happily I avoided weeping like an old-timey Beatlemania victim and avoided the temptation of leaping from my balcony seat to the stage to seize the moment (or Wayne's saxophone reeds). The good news is Sting didn't appear to be any less muscley or flexible after his recent award for, ahem "Worst Lyricist Ever". Although I might give him a second "worst" award for some gentle mutilation of the melody to "My Funny Valentine". Don't worry Sting, we'll always have Dream of the Blue Turtles.
To make a longer story shorter (Wayne Shorter, if you will), Ambrose won the competition and joined the other jazzy folk on stage for "Chameleon". Herbie played what was undoubtedly the finest keytar solo of all-time (which really is an all-time category along the lines of "tallest midget", but who am I to judge?).
Friends don't let friends use one of these unless your first name is Herbie:
Last night I continued my assault on the jazz world and ventured to the dicey territory of an open jam. In New York jazzy jam sessions can be the worst of the worst of the worst. Your evening at a session in Small's could be filled with what seems like weeks of meandering 8th notes from every janitor-turned-saxophone player in the tri-state area. Your reward for surviving till the bitter, 6:00 AM end of one of these is to see people out for an early morning jog before work as the sun comes up in Manhattan.
Yet I digress, the jam session at The Mint has been berry, berry good to me (it only goes till 12:15 AM, which helps with the "what-am-I-doing-with-my-life-and-why-am-I-here" factor). Case in point, the surprise guest at last night's session was one of the judges for the Monk Competition, trumpeter Roy Hargrove. Roy sounded great, wore fancy jeans, and claimed to not know the tune "Inner Urge" which he then played with aplomb.
Now I'm back to the work of harassing Austen Risolvato on the home-stretch of the artwork for the new album. We've got the cover picked out and all we have to do is photoshop my head onto Sting's body!
I'll be playing a CD release show on December 20th at the Hotel Cafe. More details are forthcoming.
Also, I'm playing a free show at the Ocean Avenue Brewery in Laguna Beach on November 7th. Here's a flyer:
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Skaffa
Several lifetimes ago I was in a Ska band called Jimmy Skaffa. When I started playing alto saxophone in that sometimes-ten-piece-band I was 15, and because I only had a learner's permit I had to get carted to and from rehearsal by the elder statesmen of the band. All of them were somewhere in their 20's except for me and formerly-18-year-old Matt Nelson, the trombonist. We played Omaha, Chicago, Manhattan, KS, Minneapolis, Kansas City, and a few other places that I've blocked from my memory.
It was in that band that I learned how early gas stations in the Midwest close on a weekday. We had just played a random bar in Manhattan, KS (or was it Kansas City?), and decided to get gas once we got out of town instead of turning around when we realized that we were in desperate need of a fill-up. Now it's been a good solid decade since this went down, but I remember this: we were at least 20 miles away from anything in rural Kansas, it was around one AM, the needle was well below E, and I had school the next day. We found a bunch of gas stations that were shut tight for the night, and there was a how-to discussion on syphoning gas (make sure you spit out the gas once it gets to the end of the tube). There were no cell phones in the band, because it was 1993 and would've cost fifty dollars a minute to use a cell phone in the middle of a Children-of-the-Corn field. Right after despair had settled in, we found the only 24-hour gas station in between Omaha and Kansas and I avoided peeing my pants, swallowing gasoline, being killed in a cornfield/vegetable patch, or missing school (it's safe to say I had some Lisa Simpson tendencies happening back in the day).
Another memory of the band: the 15 passenger van we drove was originally owned by a lawn service company, I think. There were still remnants of the paint job and logo, but fortunately no smell of manure. I remember trying to sleep in the van on one of those brutal nights heading back to Omaha from a far-off gig and Ross Manheart, the singer, was listening to the loudest, fastest punk rock I have heard before or (thankfully) since to keep awake will driving. It brambled my scrain. Now you know why I am the way I am.
Why am I telling you all this? I got a friend request from the band today. Apparently they ska-ed together for another seven years after I left the band in '95 or so. I don't think we'll be winning any lifetime achievement grammy awards, but it's fun to turn back the clock to my first band experience.
In other news, I sat in with my friend Robby Marshall last night at SevenGrand in beautiful downtown Los Angeles last night. The band was great, and it felt mighty fine to play my horn. I'm playing a jazzy jam session today with a horn player friend I hadn't seen in a while till last night. I guess you could say I'm really getting back into the swing of playing jazz.
I'd like to find some other way to end this blog than with a horrible jazz joke, but I think I've done enough damage for one day.
I'll be seeing you Saturday in Ventura, CA at Zoey's if you're able.
It was in that band that I learned how early gas stations in the Midwest close on a weekday. We had just played a random bar in Manhattan, KS (or was it Kansas City?), and decided to get gas once we got out of town instead of turning around when we realized that we were in desperate need of a fill-up. Now it's been a good solid decade since this went down, but I remember this: we were at least 20 miles away from anything in rural Kansas, it was around one AM, the needle was well below E, and I had school the next day. We found a bunch of gas stations that were shut tight for the night, and there was a how-to discussion on syphoning gas (make sure you spit out the gas once it gets to the end of the tube). There were no cell phones in the band, because it was 1993 and would've cost fifty dollars a minute to use a cell phone in the middle of a Children-of-the-Corn field. Right after despair had settled in, we found the only 24-hour gas station in between Omaha and Kansas and I avoided peeing my pants, swallowing gasoline, being killed in a cornfield/vegetable patch, or missing school (it's safe to say I had some Lisa Simpson tendencies happening back in the day).
Another memory of the band: the 15 passenger van we drove was originally owned by a lawn service company, I think. There were still remnants of the paint job and logo, but fortunately no smell of manure. I remember trying to sleep in the van on one of those brutal nights heading back to Omaha from a far-off gig and Ross Manheart, the singer, was listening to the loudest, fastest punk rock I have heard before or (thankfully) since to keep awake will driving. It brambled my scrain. Now you know why I am the way I am.
Why am I telling you all this? I got a friend request from the band today. Apparently they ska-ed together for another seven years after I left the band in '95 or so. I don't think we'll be winning any lifetime achievement grammy awards, but it's fun to turn back the clock to my first band experience.
In other news, I sat in with my friend Robby Marshall last night at SevenGrand in beautiful downtown Los Angeles last night. The band was great, and it felt mighty fine to play my horn. I'm playing a jazzy jam session today with a horn player friend I hadn't seen in a while till last night. I guess you could say I'm really getting back into the swing of playing jazz.
I'd like to find some other way to end this blog than with a horrible jazz joke, but I think I've done enough damage for one day.
I'll be seeing you Saturday in Ventura, CA at Zoey's if you're able.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Mommy, where do vocals come from?
Searching for cover songs on YouTube is a sure-fire way to find unintentional comedy. You know those awkward moments at the Karaoke bar where the martini-diva sings "I Will Survive" in every key, at the same time? There are enough of these moments immortalized on the internet to keep you entertained until the cows come to the homepage. I searched "cover" and "shins" and found a sacrifice of "Kissing the Lipless". I thought to myself, "the original version has a crazy vocal range, this is going to be awful or amazing." This video taught me something new about music: if the song is too hard, just play it wrong and make it easy for yourself (if not your audience). I'm working on a kazoo medley of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "Flight of the Bumblebee" to test this theorem.
There's an upside to this universal open mic night. Music lovers have rightfully become skeptical of what's "real" in popular music. If you're performing in your pajamas, chances are a million dollar producer didn't pay a ringer to sing the lead. We can blame Milli Vanilli, C+C Music Factory", and Paula Abdul for making us ask the question since the early 90's, "Mommy, where do vocals come from?" Those incidences of "who's actually singing this line anyway?" were all before auto-tune turned Nickelback and Britney Spears (yes, I know, leave her alone) into pitch-perfect studio performers.
These YouTube covers do allow us to see and hear music in it's most pure and occasionally horrific form. So without further ado, I've uploaded a living room recording of Bob Marley's "She's Gone". I'm not in my pajamas, but I may have bedhead.
There's an upside to this universal open mic night. Music lovers have rightfully become skeptical of what's "real" in popular music. If you're performing in your pajamas, chances are a million dollar producer didn't pay a ringer to sing the lead. We can blame Milli Vanilli, C+C Music Factory", and Paula Abdul for making us ask the question since the early 90's, "Mommy, where do vocals come from?" Those incidences of "who's actually singing this line anyway?" were all before auto-tune turned Nickelback and Britney Spears (yes, I know, leave her alone) into pitch-perfect studio performers.
These YouTube covers do allow us to see and hear music in it's most pure and occasionally horrific form. So without further ado, I've uploaded a living room recording of Bob Marley's "She's Gone". I'm not in my pajamas, but I may have bedhead.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Practice makes better
Oh the Hotel Cafe how I love thee.
Good times were had last Saturday. I wore a new shirt. Many friends were in attendance. Here is the setlist:
how many times
beyond means
what if I
two times two
darken your sun
only a rehearsal
long distance
little city driver
princess of darkness
all I one spin*
*this was the, let's say "suspenseful", mash-up we performed of my two songs "All I Want" and "One Spin". Disclaimer: no musicians were irrevocably damaged in the performing of this piece of music.
Yesterday I sat in with Jessie Baylin for the first time in a good, long minute. I played keys on two of our co-writes, "Higher Altitudes" and "Not a Day More" as well as "Rocky Raccoon". Thank you, Beatles, for reminding me that great songs sometimes only have four chords. Jessie was at her melodious best, and her band was subtle and rocked hard at the appropriate moments.
Last night I got out the tripod and butchered my way through a videotaping of an electric piano version of "Only a Rehearsal". I woke up this morning and ironed out the messy parts, reaffirming my belief that practice makes better, if not actually perfect.
Today I look to the future. I wrote a setlist for the show at Zoey's next Saturday. I'm looking at 16 songs next Saturday instead of the usual ten I play at the Hotel.
Once this here web-log is ready to roll I'm going to do my best "leave Britney alone" and record another song or two to put up on youtube and my myspace profile.
Parting gifts: if you're looking for a quick read, don't go with "Grapes of Wrath". I'm enjoying it, but it's gently torturous getting to the end of those 450 pages. It feels like edu-tainment, with a little more "edu" then I bargained for.
Good times were had last Saturday. I wore a new shirt. Many friends were in attendance. Here is the setlist:
how many times
beyond means
what if I
two times two
darken your sun
only a rehearsal
long distance
little city driver
princess of darkness
all I one spin*
*this was the, let's say "suspenseful", mash-up we performed of my two songs "All I Want" and "One Spin". Disclaimer: no musicians were irrevocably damaged in the performing of this piece of music.
Yesterday I sat in with Jessie Baylin for the first time in a good, long minute. I played keys on two of our co-writes, "Higher Altitudes" and "Not a Day More" as well as "Rocky Raccoon". Thank you, Beatles, for reminding me that great songs sometimes only have four chords. Jessie was at her melodious best, and her band was subtle and rocked hard at the appropriate moments.
Last night I got out the tripod and butchered my way through a videotaping of an electric piano version of "Only a Rehearsal". I woke up this morning and ironed out the messy parts, reaffirming my belief that practice makes better, if not actually perfect.
Today I look to the future. I wrote a setlist for the show at Zoey's next Saturday. I'm looking at 16 songs next Saturday instead of the usual ten I play at the Hotel.
Once this here web-log is ready to roll I'm going to do my best "leave Britney alone" and record another song or two to put up on youtube and my myspace profile.
Parting gifts: if you're looking for a quick read, don't go with "Grapes of Wrath". I'm enjoying it, but it's gently torturous getting to the end of those 450 pages. It feels like edu-tainment, with a little more "edu" then I bargained for.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Wood Shavings
Last night, as promised, I partook of a Morrissey concert. His band is great, his fans are hardcore, and his voice has a great presence. There were lots of black t-shirts in the audience, but the skinny black pants weren't as ubiquitous as I had anticipated.
Afterwards we hightailed it to catch The Sheers at The Silverlake Lounge. They are a dang fine band. I have talented friends.
The Lakers owner, and dater of woman one quarter of his own age, has announced he's fielding offers to trade Kobe Bryant. He won't get equal value, because it doesn't exist. I have followed the Lakers for a long time. Kobe is roughly my same age, although we're in different tax brackets, and don't spend a lot of time together. Sometimes I wonder why I follow professional sports and why I don't fill my head with more useful things. You know, like Shakespeare, or the periodic table, or wood shavings. I have no answer for this. Anybody have a table saw and a two by four?
Here's a riddle:
What has eight hands, sixteen strings, and a couple of sticks?
My gig at the Hotel Cafe tomorrow (Saturday, October 13th) at 11 PM!
Ok bye.
Afterwards we hightailed it to catch The Sheers at The Silverlake Lounge. They are a dang fine band. I have talented friends.
The Lakers owner, and dater of woman one quarter of his own age, has announced he's fielding offers to trade Kobe Bryant. He won't get equal value, because it doesn't exist. I have followed the Lakers for a long time. Kobe is roughly my same age, although we're in different tax brackets, and don't spend a lot of time together. Sometimes I wonder why I follow professional sports and why I don't fill my head with more useful things. You know, like Shakespeare, or the periodic table, or wood shavings. I have no answer for this. Anybody have a table saw and a two by four?
Here's a riddle:
What has eight hands, sixteen strings, and a couple of sticks?
My gig at the Hotel Cafe tomorrow (Saturday, October 13th) at 11 PM!
Ok bye.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Ima Believer
Last night I went to see Joel Martin's band The Big Believers play. The band is: Joel (who's played in my band for nearly FIVE YEARS!) on many guitars, and Dave Johnstone (who was in Dead Language with Joel) playing the heck out of the drums. It's a great feeling to be surprised, nay, blown away by your friends. Their version of "Fixing a Hole" by The Beatles made my brain mushy and happy. They're going into the studio this weekend to make a record at New Monkey Studio where Elliott Smith recorded. It's gonna be freakin' sweet.
I talked to Jessie Baylin on the internets a minute ago and I'm going to be sitting in with her on Sunday at a shindig for KCRW. Details are on her myspace page.
Tonight I shall attend a Morrissey concert for the first time. I'm expecting lots of skinny black pants and some damn fine music.
My lips are no longer chapped.
Sometimes I make pancakes from scratch with whole wheat flour, wheat germ, flax meal, buttermilk, and blueberries. Sometimes there are too many to eat in one meal. Sometimes I put the leftovers in the freezer to make homemade Eggos out of them. Today I ate the frozen pancakes, and behold, they were good. I learned all of these actions from my sister.
Time for the mantra of the week: I'm playing the Hotel Cafe this Saturday at 11 PM.
I talked to Jessie Baylin on the internets a minute ago and I'm going to be sitting in with her on Sunday at a shindig for KCRW. Details are on her myspace page.
Tonight I shall attend a Morrissey concert for the first time. I'm expecting lots of skinny black pants and some damn fine music.
My lips are no longer chapped.
Sometimes I make pancakes from scratch with whole wheat flour, wheat germ, flax meal, buttermilk, and blueberries. Sometimes there are too many to eat in one meal. Sometimes I put the leftovers in the freezer to make homemade Eggos out of them. Today I ate the frozen pancakes, and behold, they were good. I learned all of these actions from my sister.
Time for the mantra of the week: I'm playing the Hotel Cafe this Saturday at 11 PM.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In Slowbows
I just found out there's a football player who's name is Craphonso. I'm sure every crappy joke has already been made, so I'll just leave it alone.
I'm trying to download the new radiohead album. They're making the digital download be "name your own price". You have to pay in pounds and pence. The place where you enter the price on the website has a colon in it instead of a decimal point. This makes me think of time, not money. Maybe that's an implication that time truly is money in Radioheadland. I think I just told them I'd buy the album at midnight.
Somehow I think I'm not the only person to do this, because the website is slower than friendster on a dial-up modem.
Maybe you're supposed to enter the hours and minutes it takes for the actual sale to go through as your price.
I saw the movie Michael Clayton last night. It is very good. Go see it. Go see Into the Wild as well if you haven't already.
My lips are chapped.
A haiku flyer:
I will play hotel
cafe on this saturday
eleven o'clock
I'm trying to download the new radiohead album. They're making the digital download be "name your own price". You have to pay in pounds and pence. The place where you enter the price on the website has a colon in it instead of a decimal point. This makes me think of time, not money. Maybe that's an implication that time truly is money in Radioheadland. I think I just told them I'd buy the album at midnight.
Somehow I think I'm not the only person to do this, because the website is slower than friendster on a dial-up modem.
Maybe you're supposed to enter the hours and minutes it takes for the actual sale to go through as your price.
I saw the movie Michael Clayton last night. It is very good. Go see it. Go see Into the Wild as well if you haven't already.
My lips are chapped.
A haiku flyer:
I will play hotel
cafe on this saturday
eleven o'clock
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Sesame Street Jedi Mash Up
This past weekend I went to partake of a concert put on by The Shins. I've been a fan of theirs since the Hexum Bros. Tour of 2004. All three albums they've released have been thoroughly digested by me (and even paid for!). I've written on this very web-space how the song Australia helped me regain focus on the emotional response that I want as a listener and a performer. The show did not disappoint. The vocals were soaring and the guitarist on stage right rocked out. Other good news: a friend pointed out that James Mercer has a promising career as Kevin Spacey's stunt double.
Now I turn my attentions back towards my own ego and music. I have two shows right around the corner. I'm making a return to the Hotel Cafe this Saturday, October 13th at 11 pm, and a week after that I play a solo show at Zoey's Cafe and Loft in Ventura.
Last night we rehearsed and stewed up a few surprises for the Hotel show. We're going to do a mash-up of sorts and change around an intro or two. I won't spoil the punchline, but I haven't counted this hard since I tried to prove the intro to "Take it Easy" by The Eagles actually contains a bar of 9/8.
(This is where you smile and nod...)
I read The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell in an attempt to study Sesame Street and figure out how I can apply their strategic use of puppets to the youtube talk show I mentioned in a previous weblog.
Speaking of youtube-schemes, the title of the program will officially be Zack Hexum's Talking Music Show (unless I change my mind). I've already lined up a handful of musician friends who will be my guinea pigs. I'm dreaming up a bastardization of Bernard Pivot's bastardized questionnaire from Inside the Actor's Studio. Dryden from Alien Ant Farm suggested I ask my guests "what's your favorite sexual position?" Seeing as I'm probably going to interview my brother, I think I'll leave that one off.
I'll see you at the Hotel this Saturday (that was my attempt at a Jedi Mind Trick Promotion).
Till next time...
"never betray the way you've always known it is"
Now I turn my attentions back towards my own ego and music. I have two shows right around the corner. I'm making a return to the Hotel Cafe this Saturday, October 13th at 11 pm, and a week after that I play a solo show at Zoey's Cafe and Loft in Ventura.
Last night we rehearsed and stewed up a few surprises for the Hotel show. We're going to do a mash-up of sorts and change around an intro or two. I won't spoil the punchline, but I haven't counted this hard since I tried to prove the intro to "Take it Easy" by The Eagles actually contains a bar of 9/8.
(This is where you smile and nod...)
I read The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell in an attempt to study Sesame Street and figure out how I can apply their strategic use of puppets to the youtube talk show I mentioned in a previous weblog.
Speaking of youtube-schemes, the title of the program will officially be Zack Hexum's Talking Music Show (unless I change my mind). I've already lined up a handful of musician friends who will be my guinea pigs. I'm dreaming up a bastardization of Bernard Pivot's bastardized questionnaire from Inside the Actor's Studio. Dryden from Alien Ant Farm suggested I ask my guests "what's your favorite sexual position?" Seeing as I'm probably going to interview my brother, I think I'll leave that one off.
I'll see you at the Hotel this Saturday (that was my attempt at a Jedi Mind Trick Promotion).
Till next time...
"never betray the way you've always known it is"
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
sewer suckers invade
In this day and age you don't need a recording studio to record music. I have an M-Audio Firewire 410 that I have used to score a movie and finish up the bits and pieces from my upcoming new album (which will be called Open to Close, by the way). I'm a big fan of the show Weeds on Showtime. Each episode features a different artist doing their rendition of the theme, "Little Boxes." A week or two ago I decided I would try my hand at recording a version of theme. I used saxophone, bass clarinet, Fender Rhodes, and some other toys I have at my disposal.
Today my big plan was/is to record a second version of it. This time it'll be a cappella (or for those of you who don't speak Swedish, it'll be an all vocal version). This requires a relative amount of quiet from my Hollywood neighbors. Lo and behold, I sit down to fire up ProTools right as a gigantic blue truck pulls up in front of my apartment. This blue truck has a big label that says "Vactor Series 2100" on the side. It's currently set up camp and blocking one lane of traffic. It's also blocking my car from going anywhere. This truck is apparently a gigantic sewer-sucking vacuum cleaner. It has a long tentacle which it extended down a manhole and into the depths of hell. I guess it follows to reason that since in-home vacuum cleaners are loud, vacuum cleaners that are the size of a small house (or big truck in this case) would be proportionately several times louder than the regular ones.
This is my new neighbor:
Happily the Vactor Series has done all the sewer-sucking it needed to do in my neighborhood. It has moved on its merry way to mess up someone else's home studio, so I will return to the musical task at hand before a herd of buffalo, or the Hell's Angels decide to parade down my street.
Yet first I will leave you with these tidbits:
I saw Colin Hay play at the Canyon Club. He's a fantastic singer (I had to practice screaming along with "I can't get to sleep" during Overkill to see if I could hit the high notes), a great writer, and his in-between song banter is captivating.
I kid you not when I tell you that my upstairs neighbor is vacuuming his floor right now. Is this like yawning? Vacuuming is contagious, apparently.
I have a show at the Hotel Cafe on October 13th. It's a full band show.
Booyah!
Today my big plan was/is to record a second version of it. This time it'll be a cappella (or for those of you who don't speak Swedish, it'll be an all vocal version). This requires a relative amount of quiet from my Hollywood neighbors. Lo and behold, I sit down to fire up ProTools right as a gigantic blue truck pulls up in front of my apartment. This blue truck has a big label that says "Vactor Series 2100" on the side. It's currently set up camp and blocking one lane of traffic. It's also blocking my car from going anywhere. This truck is apparently a gigantic sewer-sucking vacuum cleaner. It has a long tentacle which it extended down a manhole and into the depths of hell. I guess it follows to reason that since in-home vacuum cleaners are loud, vacuum cleaners that are the size of a small house (or big truck in this case) would be proportionately several times louder than the regular ones.
This is my new neighbor:
Happily the Vactor Series has done all the sewer-sucking it needed to do in my neighborhood. It has moved on its merry way to mess up someone else's home studio, so I will return to the musical task at hand before a herd of buffalo, or the Hell's Angels decide to parade down my street.
Yet first I will leave you with these tidbits:
I saw Colin Hay play at the Canyon Club. He's a fantastic singer (I had to practice screaming along with "I can't get to sleep" during Overkill to see if I could hit the high notes), a great writer, and his in-between song banter is captivating.
I kid you not when I tell you that my upstairs neighbor is vacuuming his floor right now. Is this like yawning? Vacuuming is contagious, apparently.
I have a show at the Hotel Cafe on October 13th. It's a full band show.
Booyah!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Extreme Closeup
Happy Monday Blogosphere,
It's been a busy weekend:
-The album is doneski!
-The Huskers lost to USC (boo!)
-Drums were added to "Beyond My Means."
-I bought a video camera
-I recorded "Beyond My Means" on the new camera and put it up on youtube.com/zackhexum, and in the videos section of my my my myspace
George Bush says the terrorists hate our freedom, right? Well good news, terrorists! There's one less freedom to hate. Even though Cher tried to warn us that baggy pants were a bad idea in Clueless a dozen years ago, some of you haven't heeded this warning, so now it's becoming a law.
Like I says, the album is done. It's in the capable and loving hands of Mark Dearnley for a little mixing. Next step is artwork and track order. Then... the world (wide web)!
Tomorrow marks my return to the front of the stage after a two month hiatus. Like the video above mentions, I'll be playing the Montmartre Lounge on Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30.
In other news I'm hatching a plan to host a youtube talk show. The plan is to interview my musician friends, play a song with them, and put it up on youtube. Think Wayne's World without the extreme closeups. If I get to interview Joni Mitchell I will scream "we're not worthy" at her. Mark my words.
Is that me on the right?
Till the morrow...
Adieu.
It's been a busy weekend:
-The album is doneski!
-The Huskers lost to USC (boo!)
-Drums were added to "Beyond My Means."
-I bought a video camera
-I recorded "Beyond My Means" on the new camera and put it up on youtube.com/zackhexum, and in the videos section of my my my myspace
George Bush says the terrorists hate our freedom, right? Well good news, terrorists! There's one less freedom to hate. Even though Cher tried to warn us that baggy pants were a bad idea in Clueless a dozen years ago, some of you haven't heeded this warning, so now it's becoming a law.
Like I says, the album is done. It's in the capable and loving hands of Mark Dearnley for a little mixing. Next step is artwork and track order. Then... the world (wide web)!
Tomorrow marks my return to the front of the stage after a two month hiatus. Like the video above mentions, I'll be playing the Montmartre Lounge on Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30.
In other news I'm hatching a plan to host a youtube talk show. The plan is to interview my musician friends, play a song with them, and put it up on youtube. Think Wayne's World without the extreme closeups. If I get to interview Joni Mitchell I will scream "we're not worthy" at her. Mark my words.
Is that me on the right?
Till the morrow...
Adieu.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Ready to Ramble
2007 is the year of accidental TV time. I looked like a serial killer earlier this year when my friend Brandon Rogers was on American Idol. Yesterday I went to see my friends in the Michael Bublé band perform on Jay Leno.
We were stuck in green room purgatory, as were there no seats reserved for band guests. Luckily a guy who works for the show took pity and plopped me down in the seat normally reserved for Mrs. Leno (fortunately, Jay didn't try to take me home or ask me what we were having for dinner).
Michael Buffer of "Let's Get Ready to Rumble!" fame was seated right in front of us. He looked unusually dapper, and I found out why...
Please enjoy this YouTube clip and see if you recognize the dude in the white shirt seated behind Mr. and the future Mrs. Buffer.
This is as good a time as any to keep plugging away (I'm persistent, no?) for my show next Tuesday at the Montmartre Lounge.
We rehearsed last night for the gig and it went swimmingly. There will be two brand-spanking new songs performed, "Beyond My Means" and "Little City Driver".
In other pseudo-news, I enlisted the formidable talents of the aforementioned Brandon Rogers to help me get my best vocal take recorded over the last two days. In addition to being a great singer, he is a fantastic producer/vocal coach. He knows all the singer's tricks, has great ears, and knows my voice as well as anyone. I'm happy to share the work we did with you soon. I have a couple more parts to the add and the album will be done!
We were stuck in green room purgatory, as were there no seats reserved for band guests. Luckily a guy who works for the show took pity and plopped me down in the seat normally reserved for Mrs. Leno (fortunately, Jay didn't try to take me home or ask me what we were having for dinner).
Michael Buffer of "Let's Get Ready to Rumble!" fame was seated right in front of us. He looked unusually dapper, and I found out why...
Please enjoy this YouTube clip and see if you recognize the dude in the white shirt seated behind Mr. and the future Mrs. Buffer.
This is as good a time as any to keep plugging away (I'm persistent, no?) for my show next Tuesday at the Montmartre Lounge.
We rehearsed last night for the gig and it went swimmingly. There will be two brand-spanking new songs performed, "Beyond My Means" and "Little City Driver".
In other pseudo-news, I enlisted the formidable talents of the aforementioned Brandon Rogers to help me get my best vocal take recorded over the last two days. In addition to being a great singer, he is a fantastic producer/vocal coach. He knows all the singer's tricks, has great ears, and knows my voice as well as anyone. I'm happy to share the work we did with you soon. I have a couple more parts to the add and the album will be done!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
My trail of forgotten chargers
I think now is as good a time as any to come clean. I am a chronic forgetter of stuff.
On this tour I have left these things in these places:
My computer charger in a hotel.
My computer charger in a hotel (again).
My cell phone charger in a hotel.
My hat on a Super Shuttle van.
The good news is, I recovered all of these items, and it only cost me roughly forty bucks to get them shipped back to me.
In my defense, they were usually plugged in behind furniture, or I somehow tricked myself into thinking "I didn't use my computer charger, therefore I don't need to check for it."
On the other hand, I was one of the few on the Drake Bell tour who never lost my all-access laminate. I did consider losing it as a gesture of protest since my name was incorrectly spelled "Zach" on it.
I'd also like to take a moment to say how unbelievably wasteful tours are. There were recycling bins that were easily accessible at maybe three of the fifty venues we played at. I can say that on a good day there were at least ten bottles of water that were half full and left strewn about the dressing rooms or on stage. When I'm the king of the world, or at least the headliner on a big tour I'm making recycling mandatory, and bringing out those big multi-gallon things of water, giving everyone a nalgene with their name on it, and making the band and crew responsible for their own bottles.
Also, I made my own tiny bit of an effort to not use a new bottle of hotel shampoo once and then leave it 90% full, but destined for a life in the trash can afterwards.
I know that there are still supposedly people who believe that global warming is a myth (I'll save that tirade for later), but I think we can all agree that trash is not a myth.
Now that I'm done preaching to the choir, or maybe only to myself, I'll again remind everyone that I'm playing a show next Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30 at the Montmartre Lounge. Be there, or don't, but preferably be there.
On this tour I have left these things in these places:
My computer charger in a hotel.
My computer charger in a hotel (again).
My cell phone charger in a hotel.
My hat on a Super Shuttle van.
The good news is, I recovered all of these items, and it only cost me roughly forty bucks to get them shipped back to me.
In my defense, they were usually plugged in behind furniture, or I somehow tricked myself into thinking "I didn't use my computer charger, therefore I don't need to check for it."
On the other hand, I was one of the few on the Drake Bell tour who never lost my all-access laminate. I did consider losing it as a gesture of protest since my name was incorrectly spelled "Zach" on it.
I'd also like to take a moment to say how unbelievably wasteful tours are. There were recycling bins that were easily accessible at maybe three of the fifty venues we played at. I can say that on a good day there were at least ten bottles of water that were half full and left strewn about the dressing rooms or on stage. When I'm the king of the world, or at least the headliner on a big tour I'm making recycling mandatory, and bringing out those big multi-gallon things of water, giving everyone a nalgene with their name on it, and making the band and crew responsible for their own bottles.
Also, I made my own tiny bit of an effort to not use a new bottle of hotel shampoo once and then leave it 90% full, but destined for a life in the trash can afterwards.
I know that there are still supposedly people who believe that global warming is a myth (I'll save that tirade for later), but I think we can all agree that trash is not a myth.
Now that I'm done preaching to the choir, or maybe only to myself, I'll again remind everyone that I'm playing a show next Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30 at the Montmartre Lounge. Be there, or don't, but preferably be there.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
All Giant Airlines
Well, dear readers, I am home. I am back, nestled safely in my apartment. The highways are clogged, the sushi is delicious, and the smog is nowhere to be seen for the moment.
I was on the road for two months with Drake Bell, and boy are my arms tired? I'm Ron Burgundy?
We ditched our tour bus for the last couple of gigs and had some fantastic voyages on some fantastic and some not-so-fantastic airplanes.
We flew on Express Jet, which I had never heard of. We avoided any La Bamba moments, so I'm not complaining. I will, however, mock. They shared their checkout desk with Allegiant Airlines. Allegiant seemed to be just one step below Express Jet. Exhibit A:
To my eyes that says "All Giant Air". Maybe they only fly puddle jumper planes with low ceilings, like our Express Jet flight. Their slogan could be "All Giant Air, you'll feel huge when you get on our tiny, noisy plane!"
On the other end of the spectrum: we played a private party in Pennsylvania. After our performance in San Diego (where I had seen my brother's band perform at the same venue years before) we were whisked away on a G-550 private jet. I am ruined for life for commercial airlines now. You know how most planes have a floatation device cushion? We had cushions made of sashimi and baby panda bears! Not really, that would be weird. But seriously, no expense was spared. I sat in the jump seat with the headset on. I don't have any issues with flying, but my hands got clammy when we took off. Sitting in the cockpit is like sitting in the front of the roller coaster. The good news is, it's only $8000 an hour to rent a G-550, so I wanna go again!!
Here's a crappy cell phone picture of the jet:
In order to pay for my next jet ride, I'll need all my friends come to my "welcome home" show at the Montmartre Lounge next Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30 (this is real time, not "I'll tell you 9:30 and it's really 10"). Hope to see you then.
I was on the road for two months with Drake Bell, and boy are my arms tired? I'm Ron Burgundy?
We ditched our tour bus for the last couple of gigs and had some fantastic voyages on some fantastic and some not-so-fantastic airplanes.
We flew on Express Jet, which I had never heard of. We avoided any La Bamba moments, so I'm not complaining. I will, however, mock. They shared their checkout desk with Allegiant Airlines. Allegiant seemed to be just one step below Express Jet. Exhibit A:
To my eyes that says "All Giant Air". Maybe they only fly puddle jumper planes with low ceilings, like our Express Jet flight. Their slogan could be "All Giant Air, you'll feel huge when you get on our tiny, noisy plane!"
On the other end of the spectrum: we played a private party in Pennsylvania. After our performance in San Diego (where I had seen my brother's band perform at the same venue years before) we were whisked away on a G-550 private jet. I am ruined for life for commercial airlines now. You know how most planes have a floatation device cushion? We had cushions made of sashimi and baby panda bears! Not really, that would be weird. But seriously, no expense was spared. I sat in the jump seat with the headset on. I don't have any issues with flying, but my hands got clammy when we took off. Sitting in the cockpit is like sitting in the front of the roller coaster. The good news is, it's only $8000 an hour to rent a G-550, so I wanna go again!!
Here's a crappy cell phone picture of the jet:
In order to pay for my next jet ride, I'll need all my friends come to my "welcome home" show at the Montmartre Lounge next Tuesday, September 18th at 9:30 (this is real time, not "I'll tell you 9:30 and it's really 10"). Hope to see you then.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Propellor of Doom
These last few days the tour has been on a grueling pace. We played Sedalia, MO, drove to St. Louie, arrived in the middle of the night, woke early, flew to Detroit, drove two hours to a County Fair, drove two hours back to Detroit, and finally flew to Buffalo, NY. Then we slept, deep and deliberately late.
Today we played in West Virginia, home of Jerry "The Logo" West. Despite the factory-style uniformity of the days, I won't forget this one for a while.
Drake (star), Michael (guitar), Steven (bass), and I were escorted around the fairgrounds by one of the bigwigs of the operation. We were ushered straight to the front of the line of any ride we fancied.
We were brave and went on a ride which I now dub "the propellor of doom". The ride's official name was "Speed" and it looked like a 75 yard airplane propellor with four seats on each end. We were launched into the sky and made to wait at the apex of the universe for an eternal three minutes while they loaded up the four seats down on Earth. With screams of joy and terror we were launched, spinning like a metal and flesh pinwheel, toward the ground and back to the sky again. Happily, no one crapped their pants or hurled the grilled cheese sandwiches we had recently been served by catering.
I was here:
Before this death-defying ride we had already gathered a crowd of kiddies who were eager to get close to Drake. We were on a whirling dervish going at least four hundred miles an hour, but the screams were the loudest from the kids when they saw Drake zip by.
We turned the bumper cars into a four vehicle demolition derby. They turned the power all the way up and let us free to injure ourselves until our guilt at forcing kids to wait for us made the ride end. Even at full blast bumper cars, at least these ones, are not fast.
Meanwhile, we actually had a gig to play. Before we could soundcheck we had to wait for a "farmer's horse race" to finish on the track that encircled our stage. During one of the final races we had the misfortune of watching a young woman get tossed off her horse right before the end of the race. She may have gotten kicked on the way down. It was not a pretty sight. Seeing someone get lifted on to a stretcher and put into an ambulance seems to have a deep physiological reaction on me. The woman was talking and moving her arms on the stretcher before she was put in the ambulance. I hope she's ok.
On a brighter note, I got to play a real Hammond organ and Leslie speaker combination on this gig. If you're not familiar, these are huge, wooden, monuments to a bygone era. They look like furniture from your grandma's house, and they sound like a buttery fireball. I was giddy for at least an hour after the show.
For ninety percent of the tour we have several tour buses that the twenty or so of us travel in. These are our occasionally messy, but always well air-conditioned homes for two months. For these last few days we have been without the buses.
In Detroit the coach bus we requested wasn't available so we hopped on a "Limo-bus" or a "Bus-o-zine" or some such contraption. This would've been cute had it been a birthday party. It was not ideal for roundtrip shoulder-to-shoulder drive that was two hours each way.
Today in West Virginia we are riding in a sixty-four seat coach bus. Corbin Bleu's band, the crew, and everyone in Drake's band are all in one mind-numbing party on wheels. This brings me back to the days of All State Jazz Band in Scottsbluff, NE. I vaguely remember that someone supposedly fell out of the window in the bathroom of another school's coach bus while they were driving down I-80 that year. I vaguely remember that each time I need to use the bathroom on a coach bus.
This bus ride also brings me back to trips to the Wichita Jazz Festival with the Two o'Clock Lab Band, and the long forested highways of Finland with the One o'Clock Lab Band. Our hotel in Finland somewhere between Helsinki and Pori, and was next to a gigantic tent with plastic chairs inside. The tent was a gigantic, mobile Karaoke bar. They didn't start singing until after midnight, and there weren't more than four people singing over the course of the evening. The walls were paper thin. Ow! Party! Don't stop believin'!
On a different coach bus trip with the One o'Clock Band in New Mexico I had a portable CD player (it's like an iPod, but with an actual CD inside it, remember those!?) and I had just purchased Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now". It was the first time that recorded music on a CD had moved me to tears (this is where I show my sensitive side, and my already questionable street cred plummets to rock the bottom). This was not an ideal time for this, seeing as how I was surrounded by trombone players.
There aren't any trombone players on this tour, but we're just as, if not more, rowdy. We still have a few hours to go (it's 12:19 AM, early Saturday) till we get to our hotel. I may partake of the merriment that is bleeding into my headphones and this blog in a few moments.
After some socializing, I'm hoping to induce a heightened state of emotion from my iPod (it's like a portable CD player, but with no moving parts!). If I'm lucky it'll feel like playing a Hammond, or being suspended a mile above the West Virginia State Fair. The air conditioning is bumping and it may help me grow a goosebump or two.
Until then, don't forget to recycle your plastic lemonade cups.
Today we played in West Virginia, home of Jerry "The Logo" West. Despite the factory-style uniformity of the days, I won't forget this one for a while.
Drake (star), Michael (guitar), Steven (bass), and I were escorted around the fairgrounds by one of the bigwigs of the operation. We were ushered straight to the front of the line of any ride we fancied.
We were brave and went on a ride which I now dub "the propellor of doom". The ride's official name was "Speed" and it looked like a 75 yard airplane propellor with four seats on each end. We were launched into the sky and made to wait at the apex of the universe for an eternal three minutes while they loaded up the four seats down on Earth. With screams of joy and terror we were launched, spinning like a metal and flesh pinwheel, toward the ground and back to the sky again. Happily, no one crapped their pants or hurled the grilled cheese sandwiches we had recently been served by catering.
I was here:
Before this death-defying ride we had already gathered a crowd of kiddies who were eager to get close to Drake. We were on a whirling dervish going at least four hundred miles an hour, but the screams were the loudest from the kids when they saw Drake zip by.
We turned the bumper cars into a four vehicle demolition derby. They turned the power all the way up and let us free to injure ourselves until our guilt at forcing kids to wait for us made the ride end. Even at full blast bumper cars, at least these ones, are not fast.
Meanwhile, we actually had a gig to play. Before we could soundcheck we had to wait for a "farmer's horse race" to finish on the track that encircled our stage. During one of the final races we had the misfortune of watching a young woman get tossed off her horse right before the end of the race. She may have gotten kicked on the way down. It was not a pretty sight. Seeing someone get lifted on to a stretcher and put into an ambulance seems to have a deep physiological reaction on me. The woman was talking and moving her arms on the stretcher before she was put in the ambulance. I hope she's ok.
On a brighter note, I got to play a real Hammond organ and Leslie speaker combination on this gig. If you're not familiar, these are huge, wooden, monuments to a bygone era. They look like furniture from your grandma's house, and they sound like a buttery fireball. I was giddy for at least an hour after the show.
For ninety percent of the tour we have several tour buses that the twenty or so of us travel in. These are our occasionally messy, but always well air-conditioned homes for two months. For these last few days we have been without the buses.
In Detroit the coach bus we requested wasn't available so we hopped on a "Limo-bus" or a "Bus-o-zine" or some such contraption. This would've been cute had it been a birthday party. It was not ideal for roundtrip shoulder-to-shoulder drive that was two hours each way.
Today in West Virginia we are riding in a sixty-four seat coach bus. Corbin Bleu's band, the crew, and everyone in Drake's band are all in one mind-numbing party on wheels. This brings me back to the days of All State Jazz Band in Scottsbluff, NE. I vaguely remember that someone supposedly fell out of the window in the bathroom of another school's coach bus while they were driving down I-80 that year. I vaguely remember that each time I need to use the bathroom on a coach bus.
This bus ride also brings me back to trips to the Wichita Jazz Festival with the Two o'Clock Lab Band, and the long forested highways of Finland with the One o'Clock Lab Band. Our hotel in Finland somewhere between Helsinki and Pori, and was next to a gigantic tent with plastic chairs inside. The tent was a gigantic, mobile Karaoke bar. They didn't start singing until after midnight, and there weren't more than four people singing over the course of the evening. The walls were paper thin. Ow! Party! Don't stop believin'!
On a different coach bus trip with the One o'Clock Band in New Mexico I had a portable CD player (it's like an iPod, but with an actual CD inside it, remember those!?) and I had just purchased Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now". It was the first time that recorded music on a CD had moved me to tears (this is where I show my sensitive side, and my already questionable street cred plummets to rock the bottom). This was not an ideal time for this, seeing as how I was surrounded by trombone players.
There aren't any trombone players on this tour, but we're just as, if not more, rowdy. We still have a few hours to go (it's 12:19 AM, early Saturday) till we get to our hotel. I may partake of the merriment that is bleeding into my headphones and this blog in a few moments.
After some socializing, I'm hoping to induce a heightened state of emotion from my iPod (it's like a portable CD player, but with no moving parts!). If I'm lucky it'll feel like playing a Hammond, or being suspended a mile above the West Virginia State Fair. The air conditioning is bumping and it may help me grow a goosebump or two.
Until then, don't forget to recycle your plastic lemonade cups.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Deep Fried Green Tomatoes
Zack's Number One Rule for travelling:
Never plug your computer charger into an outlet that is hidden from view when you do your "idiot check".
Yes, Jackson, Michigan got the last laugh on my ass. I think the Jackson Chamber of Commerce must've read my blog and gave me a stupid pill when I was napping. I left my computer charger safely plugged into the outlet behind the bed in the hotel.
The good news is they found it and with a little help from the Federal Express, will ship that sucka to me in a day or two.
I currently have thirteen percent of my battery life left to write this blog...
I used the other 87 percent this morning to record a song that is, as of 3:32 PM Central Time, untitled. It's peppy and makes use of Mr. Dobro and a slide.
Twelve percent....
Des Moines, Iowa is having it's way with me. My eyes are so swollen from allergies, I feel like I'm living the life of my character from the boxing video game after an eighth round knock out.
Eleven percent...
I'm reading The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon. I'm halfway done. It's rad.
These last few gigs we've been doing have all been state and county fairs. I've had a deep fried Snickers Bar and a deep fried Oreo. I'm thinking if they went ahead and deep fried pure High Fructose Corn Syrup it would be maybe the best selling item in the history of mankind. It would be the Model T of junk food. I'm considering having my saxophone case deep fried for some extra padding. Can you deep fry hot tea?
Ten percent...
I'm going to let you in on a little idea I'm having right now. This will be my Pet Rock/Jump to Conclusions Mat. I'm going to open a do-it-yourself deep fryer store. You can bring in carrots, car keys, oatmeal, your recently deceased pet, or whatever trips your fancy and deep fry it to deaf!
Nine percent...
So since I've been recording in hotel rooms the normal staples of a recording studio are not present. I've taken to MacGuyvering a lamp into a microphone stand, using the mike cable as a pulley to adjust the microphone to it's perfect height. I'm sure housekeeping wonders why the hell I'm unplugging the lamps and dragging them to the middle of the room.
Eight percent...
Time for an idiot check and lobby call.
Seven percent...
Wish me luck
Never plug your computer charger into an outlet that is hidden from view when you do your "idiot check".
Yes, Jackson, Michigan got the last laugh on my ass. I think the Jackson Chamber of Commerce must've read my blog and gave me a stupid pill when I was napping. I left my computer charger safely plugged into the outlet behind the bed in the hotel.
The good news is they found it and with a little help from the Federal Express, will ship that sucka to me in a day or two.
I currently have thirteen percent of my battery life left to write this blog...
I used the other 87 percent this morning to record a song that is, as of 3:32 PM Central Time, untitled. It's peppy and makes use of Mr. Dobro and a slide.
Twelve percent....
Des Moines, Iowa is having it's way with me. My eyes are so swollen from allergies, I feel like I'm living the life of my character from the boxing video game after an eighth round knock out.
Eleven percent...
I'm reading The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon. I'm halfway done. It's rad.
These last few gigs we've been doing have all been state and county fairs. I've had a deep fried Snickers Bar and a deep fried Oreo. I'm thinking if they went ahead and deep fried pure High Fructose Corn Syrup it would be maybe the best selling item in the history of mankind. It would be the Model T of junk food. I'm considering having my saxophone case deep fried for some extra padding. Can you deep fry hot tea?
Ten percent...
I'm going to let you in on a little idea I'm having right now. This will be my Pet Rock/Jump to Conclusions Mat. I'm going to open a do-it-yourself deep fryer store. You can bring in carrots, car keys, oatmeal, your recently deceased pet, or whatever trips your fancy and deep fry it to deaf!
Nine percent...
So since I've been recording in hotel rooms the normal staples of a recording studio are not present. I've taken to MacGuyvering a lamp into a microphone stand, using the mike cable as a pulley to adjust the microphone to it's perfect height. I'm sure housekeeping wonders why the hell I'm unplugging the lamps and dragging them to the middle of the room.
Eight percent...
Time for an idiot check and lobby call.
Seven percent...
Wish me luck
Friday, August 10, 2007
Howard Hanks
We're more or less smack dab in the middle of the Drake Bell tour. I'm starting to feel a li'l like Tom Hanks in Castaway. My closest companion isn't a volleyball, however, it's my dobro guitar (see recent blog entries for more on that). I haven't painted a bloody-hand-face on it or anything. That would just be weird. I would, however, scream "dough broooooooo!" if I ever lost it.
Also like Tom Hanks on his desert island movie, I have new facial hair. It's not a tour-'stache like last year, or a gigantic Old Testament beard. It's a tour-tee this time around. Maybe it's an homage to my Grandpa Lofton, who had a goatee long before they were fashionable (and just for the record, I don't think they're fashionable now, I'm just "exploring new territories of boredom"). I'm using it to keep track of time. Maybe I'll call it a calendar-tee.
I feel like I should take this opportunity to poke fun at Jackson, Michigan. We got in last night at three in the morning. We've been staying at über fancy hotels on this tour. As far as I can tell there aren't any über fancy hotels in Jackson. I did however find a lone hair on the soap holder in the shower. Now, I don't expect that I'm going to be the first or last person to use a shower in a hotel room, but a reminder that someone else was recently in that same shower, and was probably naked, is REAL GROSS. At this rate I'll be washing my hands like Howard Hughes in no time! By the by, is there a connection between Howard Hughes with the really long beard and Tom Hanks' character with the really long beard? Did Howard Hughes name his sporting goods? Did Tom Hanks pee in bottles?
All foolishness aside, we're having a heckuva time on the tour playing music and Fight Night (a boxing video game) on XBox. My character is 6'6', has a red ponytail, and a black uni-brow. His nickname is International. I wish I could name him Wilson so when he gets knocked out I could scream his name.
Despite spending lots of time on this tour growing hair, I have also been hard at work on the album.
More to follow.
Till then: don't be afraid of tap water.
Also like Tom Hanks on his desert island movie, I have new facial hair. It's not a tour-'stache like last year, or a gigantic Old Testament beard. It's a tour-tee this time around. Maybe it's an homage to my Grandpa Lofton, who had a goatee long before they were fashionable (and just for the record, I don't think they're fashionable now, I'm just "exploring new territories of boredom"). I'm using it to keep track of time. Maybe I'll call it a calendar-tee.
I feel like I should take this opportunity to poke fun at Jackson, Michigan. We got in last night at three in the morning. We've been staying at über fancy hotels on this tour. As far as I can tell there aren't any über fancy hotels in Jackson. I did however find a lone hair on the soap holder in the shower. Now, I don't expect that I'm going to be the first or last person to use a shower in a hotel room, but a reminder that someone else was recently in that same shower, and was probably naked, is REAL GROSS. At this rate I'll be washing my hands like Howard Hughes in no time! By the by, is there a connection between Howard Hughes with the really long beard and Tom Hanks' character with the really long beard? Did Howard Hughes name his sporting goods? Did Tom Hanks pee in bottles?
All foolishness aside, we're having a heckuva time on the tour playing music and Fight Night (a boxing video game) on XBox. My character is 6'6', has a red ponytail, and a black uni-brow. His nickname is International. I wish I could name him Wilson so when he gets knocked out I could scream his name.
Despite spending lots of time on this tour growing hair, I have also been hard at work on the album.
More to follow.
Till then: don't be afraid of tap water.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Highway Bootleg
I like it when I use the wrong "to" in blogs, like I did at the end of the last one. Westside High School is beeping in right now and they're calling two ask for my diploma back. Zing!
I've re-discovered an old demon from my past: TV without TiVo. I've been known to surf channels in my early years. Hotel rooms don't come with a DVR, therefore I've been hanging ten on the 40 or so channels that are offered. Not good times. The past few nights I've been letting the TV lullaby me to sleep, and keep getting sucked in before I can count the sheep. "Just one more lap through the channels while I'm waiting out this last commercial break on Law and Order: Special Reruns Unit," has been my nightly refrain.
Speaking of old demons, I'm reaching that point where I'm tempted to buy new underwear and socks to postpone laundry for a few more days. A midnight run to the evil of Walmart for boxer/brief/shorts was a semi-annual occurrence in college. There's a mall connected to this hotel, which is a slightly-wicked and welcome convenience. When you're on a tour like this you get paid a cash per diem to cover food. Two out of three meals a day are already covered by catering on gig days. The mall is the surest way to have that per diem fly out of your pocket. I smell an Orange Julius in my future.
I almost forgot to tell ye, my new album is being mixed! I've enlisted the formidable talents of Mark Dearnley to mix it. Mark worked on "The Story So Far" with Don Gehman, and perhaps more importantly mixed one of my all time favorite albums, The English Beat "I Just Can't Stop it". I'm planning on it being done and ready for purchase by September. Don't be scared.
The tour is going swimmingly. We've started writing new songs on the long night bus rides. If you pull up next to us on the freeway make sure to hold your mini disc out the window so you can be the first on your block to have the bootleg.
I've re-discovered an old demon from my past: TV without TiVo. I've been known to surf channels in my early years. Hotel rooms don't come with a DVR, therefore I've been hanging ten on the 40 or so channels that are offered. Not good times. The past few nights I've been letting the TV lullaby me to sleep, and keep getting sucked in before I can count the sheep. "Just one more lap through the channels while I'm waiting out this last commercial break on Law and Order: Special Reruns Unit," has been my nightly refrain.
Speaking of old demons, I'm reaching that point where I'm tempted to buy new underwear and socks to postpone laundry for a few more days. A midnight run to the evil of Walmart for boxer/brief/shorts was a semi-annual occurrence in college. There's a mall connected to this hotel, which is a slightly-wicked and welcome convenience. When you're on a tour like this you get paid a cash per diem to cover food. Two out of three meals a day are already covered by catering on gig days. The mall is the surest way to have that per diem fly out of your pocket. I smell an Orange Julius in my future.
I almost forgot to tell ye, my new album is being mixed! I've enlisted the formidable talents of Mark Dearnley to mix it. Mark worked on "The Story So Far" with Don Gehman, and perhaps more importantly mixed one of my all time favorite albums, The English Beat "I Just Can't Stop it". I'm planning on it being done and ready for purchase by September. Don't be scared.
The tour is going swimmingly. We've started writing new songs on the long night bus rides. If you pull up next to us on the freeway make sure to hold your mini disc out the window so you can be the first on your block to have the bootleg.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Cedar Kinda Rapid
Few things seem to move quickly in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Last night I stole a bowl of raisin bran from our tour bus. To do this I had to leave my hotel room and venture into Saturday night in Iowa. The stoplights were flashing yellow or red. This immediately transported me to Summers of '95 and '96 in Omaha, when I was old enough to drive, and old enough to stay out until after the stoplights called it quits. Those were the days... That's not exactly true. Maybe they weren't "the" days, but there were definitely "days" nonetheless. I would, however, like to play some sand volleyball next door to the Rockbrook swimming pool again.
This is what happens when you have two days off in Iowa. Nostalgia sets in.
I've spent the last two days hibernating in the Five Seasons Hotel (apparently, the fifth season is the only thing that happens quickly in Cedar Rapids, it's so fast that you probably don't even know it exists). I turned my room on the concierge level into a recording studio yesterday, and put to use a new friend whom I'll introduce you to at the end of this weblog. So far as I can tell the benefits of staying on the concierge level are thus: it smells like cologne, to the degree that you would think the "H" and "C" on the faucet stand for Helmut Lang and Kenneth Cole. Secondly, you have to insert your key to access the floor. Which is a problem because, now that I think of it, the thing that REALLY moves quickly in Cedar Rapids are the elevator doors. It reminds of Muhammad Ali saying "I'm so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark." He must've programmed these elevators, because those doors are steel lightning.
The other interesting/inane thing I learned in the guillotine-speed elevators of the Five Seasons is they have a very special menu which advertises that they serve (apologies to Jay Leno for stealing his bit) "Double Lamp Chops"!! Yum! I like the fluorescent bulb lamp chops because they stay bright in your stomach twice as long.
Nostalgia manifested itself in an unexpected way in Iowa. I've been known to rummage through pawn shops whenever the opportunity arises. In Wisconsin a few years back I found a Wurlitzer 200 A electric piano that I've seen used on albums, a movie, and abused on the road. This weekend I made my second great pawn shop find.
I need a second acoustic guitar in case I break a string on stage during a solo show, and also so I can have a broader palette to record with. I was looking for a parlor guitar, or even a beginner/tiny-size acoustic with steel strings, because those can sound really cool on a recording session (plus you look like you're playing a Hobbit's guitar). I found a $50 beginner acoustic in Siegel's pawn shop. The brand was "Lauren", or maybe the previous owner just decided to scrawl her name on the headstock for kicks. I was ready to rock out the door with it, when one of the Drake Bell band dudes told me there was an old Dobro guitar on consignment in the other room. A Dobro is one of those guitars that has an aluminum resonator-thingy in it, and is often used with a slide. As you can tell, I'm an expert. The Dobro they had was from the late 1930's, and it played like a dream. I put a bid on that sucker, and after a long night of nail-biting, and a few minutes of counter-offering the next day, I now own an 80 year-old guitar! Old Faithful, as I'm tentatively naming it, has already been put to work in the studio, and given birth to a new song. The old dog is teaching me new tricks.
Lobby call is in 45 minutes. Time to wrap 'er up.
Till next time...
Don't move to fast, unless you're getting on an elevator.
This is what happens when you have two days off in Iowa. Nostalgia sets in.
I've spent the last two days hibernating in the Five Seasons Hotel (apparently, the fifth season is the only thing that happens quickly in Cedar Rapids, it's so fast that you probably don't even know it exists). I turned my room on the concierge level into a recording studio yesterday, and put to use a new friend whom I'll introduce you to at the end of this weblog. So far as I can tell the benefits of staying on the concierge level are thus: it smells like cologne, to the degree that you would think the "H" and "C" on the faucet stand for Helmut Lang and Kenneth Cole. Secondly, you have to insert your key to access the floor. Which is a problem because, now that I think of it, the thing that REALLY moves quickly in Cedar Rapids are the elevator doors. It reminds of Muhammad Ali saying "I'm so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark." He must've programmed these elevators, because those doors are steel lightning.
The other interesting/inane thing I learned in the guillotine-speed elevators of the Five Seasons is they have a very special menu which advertises that they serve (apologies to Jay Leno for stealing his bit) "Double Lamp Chops"!! Yum! I like the fluorescent bulb lamp chops because they stay bright in your stomach twice as long.
Nostalgia manifested itself in an unexpected way in Iowa. I've been known to rummage through pawn shops whenever the opportunity arises. In Wisconsin a few years back I found a Wurlitzer 200 A electric piano that I've seen used on albums, a movie, and abused on the road. This weekend I made my second great pawn shop find.
I need a second acoustic guitar in case I break a string on stage during a solo show, and also so I can have a broader palette to record with. I was looking for a parlor guitar, or even a beginner/tiny-size acoustic with steel strings, because those can sound really cool on a recording session (plus you look like you're playing a Hobbit's guitar). I found a $50 beginner acoustic in Siegel's pawn shop. The brand was "Lauren", or maybe the previous owner just decided to scrawl her name on the headstock for kicks. I was ready to rock out the door with it, when one of the Drake Bell band dudes told me there was an old Dobro guitar on consignment in the other room. A Dobro is one of those guitars that has an aluminum resonator-thingy in it, and is often used with a slide. As you can tell, I'm an expert. The Dobro they had was from the late 1930's, and it played like a dream. I put a bid on that sucker, and after a long night of nail-biting, and a few minutes of counter-offering the next day, I now own an 80 year-old guitar! Old Faithful, as I'm tentatively naming it, has already been put to work in the studio, and given birth to a new song. The old dog is teaching me new tricks.
Lobby call is in 45 minutes. Time to wrap 'er up.
Till next time...
Don't move to fast, unless you're getting on an elevator.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Big Willie
It's officially a tour! I know this because I have a sore throat. Hot tea, here I come.
I'm in the groove and enjoying it. We stayed in a hotel where each floor had a different theme. I was on the floor of champions. A Rocky impersonator said, "yo! This is the 10th floor." To which I would reply, "Adriaaaanne!" That'll break the ice, I tell ya.
Highlight of the tour thus far: we took a rest at a truck stop in New Mexico. A nice southern gentleman asked which tour we were with, to which I uneasily replied "Drake Bell." I was expecting an awkward or uncomfortable encounter to follow, but he said "we're with Willie." As an aside, you know you are a baller if you can be referred to be a first name, one as common as William, and nine out of ten people know exactly who you're talking about. No, not Willie Smith, not Willie Cosby, or Willie Clinton. Twas Willie Nelson. After the band stopped crapping their pants at the possibility of meeting a living legend, we calmly asked for an awkward/uncomfortable introduction and got our wish. He was very cordial and gracious and shook each of our hands (on his bus at 11:30 at night!). We also got an invite to his golf course in Austin. I smell a hole in seven in my future.
Speaking of smells... Steven is the bass player for Drake on the tour. His bag, like the rest of ours, was stored in the bottom of the bus. His bag, unfortunately, had an awkward/uncomfortable encounter with the (if you're squeamish, stop reading now!) urine of seven to eight men. The toilet on the bus sprung a leak right on to poor Steven's suitcase. Not, not, not, NOT fun times! There's no real happy ending to a story that starts with gallons of pee on your clothes. So let's just move on...
I spent yesterday's day off making a new track on my road recording rig. There were many vocal harmonies, and many layers of analog synth.
I also sorted through all the audio from my gig at Zoey's on June 8th and will be putting one of three different tracks on the myspace in the not-too-distant future.
More bus tales: we were parked across the street from the hotel. I was disembarking from our home on the road, and a middle-aged local said "are you celebrities?" First of all, it was just me, and although I've been known to be moody, at best I could only hope to be one celebrity, not many celebrities. Point being, if you have to ask that question, the answer is invariably no.
After many, many moons of having a stale website (a smell worse than multi-men-pee) I've come up with a new concept for ZackHexum.com. I'm sending out emails to a few different web designers to see how many limbs I'll have to mortgage. It's most likely a few months away, but sooner than later, we'll have a new website to romp through.
See you soon...
I'm in the groove and enjoying it. We stayed in a hotel where each floor had a different theme. I was on the floor of champions. A Rocky impersonator said, "yo! This is the 10th floor." To which I would reply, "Adriaaaanne!" That'll break the ice, I tell ya.
Highlight of the tour thus far: we took a rest at a truck stop in New Mexico. A nice southern gentleman asked which tour we were with, to which I uneasily replied "Drake Bell." I was expecting an awkward or uncomfortable encounter to follow, but he said "we're with Willie." As an aside, you know you are a baller if you can be referred to be a first name, one as common as William, and nine out of ten people know exactly who you're talking about. No, not Willie Smith, not Willie Cosby, or Willie Clinton. Twas Willie Nelson. After the band stopped crapping their pants at the possibility of meeting a living legend, we calmly asked for an awkward/uncomfortable introduction and got our wish. He was very cordial and gracious and shook each of our hands (on his bus at 11:30 at night!). We also got an invite to his golf course in Austin. I smell a hole in seven in my future.
Speaking of smells... Steven is the bass player for Drake on the tour. His bag, like the rest of ours, was stored in the bottom of the bus. His bag, unfortunately, had an awkward/uncomfortable encounter with the (if you're squeamish, stop reading now!) urine of seven to eight men. The toilet on the bus sprung a leak right on to poor Steven's suitcase. Not, not, not, NOT fun times! There's no real happy ending to a story that starts with gallons of pee on your clothes. So let's just move on...
I spent yesterday's day off making a new track on my road recording rig. There were many vocal harmonies, and many layers of analog synth.
I also sorted through all the audio from my gig at Zoey's on June 8th and will be putting one of three different tracks on the myspace in the not-too-distant future.
More bus tales: we were parked across the street from the hotel. I was disembarking from our home on the road, and a middle-aged local said "are you celebrities?" First of all, it was just me, and although I've been known to be moody, at best I could only hope to be one celebrity, not many celebrities. Point being, if you have to ask that question, the answer is invariably no.
After many, many moons of having a stale website (a smell worse than multi-men-pee) I've come up with a new concept for ZackHexum.com. I'm sending out emails to a few different web designers to see how many limbs I'll have to mortgage. It's most likely a few months away, but sooner than later, we'll have a new website to romp through.
See you soon...
Friday, July 6, 2007
Head and Luggage in the Clouds
As Nirvana once said "I'm on a plane". We're flying to Michigan for the first gig on the Drake Bell tour. Things have been as busy as I can remember these last few weeks. I've finished up the score for Happy Holidays by day and fought crime rehearsed with Drake's band by night.
All together there are 17 cues for Happy Holiday. I enlisted my former bandmate Bill Campbell to play drums and cymbals via the internets. He did a bang-up job. At this point I'm salivating over what it'll be like to see a movie with my music providing the aural landscape and my name in the credits.
I've shaved a few hundred emails out of the inbox, and sadly we're starting our descent in ten minutes. I'm considering telling the pilot I left my oven on and we need to go back to LA, just so I can have more time to really get stuff done.
The good news is, I'll be traveling like it's going out of style, so I'll have lots of time to write words and music. I've brought my mini-recording studio with me. I'm hoping I remembered to pack the muse in my bag (she has to weigh 3 oz or less and fit in a zip lock bag if you're going carry her on).
My Independence Day resolution is to deliver the blogs to ya.
I've brought with me the audio files from my last gig at Zoey's Cafe in Ventura and I'm planning on posting at least one song on the myspace for free download.
Till next time...
All together there are 17 cues for Happy Holiday. I enlisted my former bandmate Bill Campbell to play drums and cymbals via the internets. He did a bang-up job. At this point I'm salivating over what it'll be like to see a movie with my music providing the aural landscape and my name in the credits.
I've shaved a few hundred emails out of the inbox, and sadly we're starting our descent in ten minutes. I'm considering telling the pilot I left my oven on and we need to go back to LA, just so I can have more time to really get stuff done.
The good news is, I'll be traveling like it's going out of style, so I'll have lots of time to write words and music. I've brought my mini-recording studio with me. I'm hoping I remembered to pack the muse in my bag (she has to weigh 3 oz or less and fit in a zip lock bag if you're going carry her on).
My Independence Day resolution is to deliver the blogs to ya.
I've brought with me the audio files from my last gig at Zoey's Cafe in Ventura and I'm planning on posting at least one song on the myspace for free download.
Till next time...
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Not Fake
Well, dear readers, I have not gone into hiding with Tony Soprano. I have, however, been juggling chain saws and kittens, mostly with a high percentage of success.
Here's what has been happening in Hexland:
I'm in the midst of scoring the film Happy Holidays. I'm armed with a new low-budge ProTools rig and a new laptop.
How about a moment of silence for my old iBook, which was the computer that brought you almost all of the 169 blogs I've written.
(Sound of Silence...)
(Hello darkness my old furrrend)
This past weekend I played and sang at my close friend and long-time musical companion, Bill Shupp's wedding. It was in Yosemite National Park, which is just stupidly gorgeous. It's so breath-taking you would think it's fake. Maybe that's a by-product of my living in Los Angeles, where, as you may have read, many things are fake. Zing!
The beauty, however was not fake. The bears are also not fake. I saw one, and lived to tell the tale. It was 100 yards away, and there was a surly ranger with a gun who was more danger than the animal, but I'm sure in my latter years I'll turn my bear tale into a tall tale and tell my grandkids that I punched it in the nose to keep it from eating a kitten. Todays secret word is kitten, scream real loud!
Here's what has been happening in Hexland:
I'm in the midst of scoring the film Happy Holidays. I'm armed with a new low-budge ProTools rig and a new laptop.
How about a moment of silence for my old iBook, which was the computer that brought you almost all of the 169 blogs I've written.
(Sound of Silence...)
(Hello darkness my old furrrend)
This past weekend I played and sang at my close friend and long-time musical companion, Bill Shupp's wedding. It was in Yosemite National Park, which is just stupidly gorgeous. It's so breath-taking you would think it's fake. Maybe that's a by-product of my living in Los Angeles, where, as you may have read, many things are fake. Zing!
The beauty, however was not fake. The bears are also not fake. I saw one, and lived to tell the tale. It was 100 yards away, and there was a surly ranger with a gun who was more danger than the animal, but I'm sure in my latter years I'll turn my bear tale into a tall tale and tell my grandkids that I punched it in the nose to keep it from eating a kitten. Todays secret word is kitten, scream real loud!
Back in reality, the big news is I'm going on tour with Drake Bell. You may know Drake from Nickelodeon's Drake and Josh. Drake is a musician as well as an actor. I'll be playing keyboards, saxophone, and a little guitar, as well as singing backup for him (insert Simon Cowell joke here). This is a big gig for me, we'll be touring in a ¡bus!, not an SUV or compact car, like on my own D.I.Y. tours in the past.
We had our first rehearsal last night and it was great. Each member of the band is a pro, and sings like a Beach Boy. We'll be doing lots of harmonies. This excites me. We'll be on the road in July, August, and some of September.
In the meantime, I have two more gigs before I'm in Drakeville, tomorrow (Friday) at Zoey's in Ventura and next Thursday, the 14th at the Hotel Cafe.
Zoey's is going to be a double set, acoustic show, just me, a keyboard, and a guitar or two. I'm going to do some new covers. Make reservations, it sold out last time.
While I'm on the road, I'm going to keep (maybe restart, is more apropos) working on my own record and planning world domination. I'll keep you posted on this cyberspace.
And on that note, cats and kittens, it's back to the work and play of making music.
More to follow.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
The concert that happens in Vegas stays on YouTube
Ladies and germs,
I've posted four new videos on YouTube from my performance at the BurnLounge Spring '06 rally in Vegas. I've embeded the videos below. Please enjoy, and them spread them to the wind like a glorious sneeze.
Last night I saw The Bad Plus perform at The Mint. David King is a really, really great drummer. I don't think I've ever seen a musician perform with so much unbridled joy and enthusiasm (or so many Fisher Price toys, for that matter). The outing was sponsored by my good friend/guitar wizard Joel Martin. He got us tickets for my birthday, and he swears he didn't know they would be covering Rush.
More to follow...
I've posted four new videos on YouTube from my performance at the BurnLounge Spring '06 rally in Vegas. I've embeded the videos below. Please enjoy, and them spread them to the wind like a glorious sneeze.
Last night I saw The Bad Plus perform at The Mint. David King is a really, really great drummer. I don't think I've ever seen a musician perform with so much unbridled joy and enthusiasm (or so many Fisher Price toys, for that matter). The outing was sponsored by my good friend/guitar wizard Joel Martin. He got us tickets for my birthday, and he swears he didn't know they would be covering Rush.
More to follow...
Monday, May 14, 2007
The Legend of Zackda
The blog cabin had to have a few logs repaired whilst I attended to other bizness on Friday. Happily, I'm back, and ready to rock.
I've conquered the demons of ProTools and the error I posted in my last blog. It's not as fun as beating the Legend of Zelda, but I think it took just as much time and video-game-style skillz. For those of waiting in suspense on how to fix that error: simply erase your digidesign databases from your computer AND any hard drives you're using. I think I just heard a collective sigh of relief.
I've begun sketching the music for the movie that I'm going to score, and so far it's a dream. I need to do this a lot. I actually will be for the next few weeks, so I guess I don't have anything to complain about...
...except for that Bruce Bowen, the basketball player, must be auditioning for a shot on America's Funniest Home Crotch Injuries with that knee-first step into Stevie Nash's nether regions.
Till 2moro:
Stay sassy.
I've conquered the demons of ProTools and the error I posted in my last blog. It's not as fun as beating the Legend of Zelda, but I think it took just as much time and video-game-style skillz. For those of waiting in suspense on how to fix that error: simply erase your digidesign databases from your computer AND any hard drives you're using. I think I just heard a collective sigh of relief.
I've begun sketching the music for the movie that I'm going to score, and so far it's a dream. I need to do this a lot. I actually will be for the next few weeks, so I guess I don't have anything to complain about...
...except for that Bruce Bowen, the basketball player, must be auditioning for a shot on America's Funniest Home Crotch Injuries with that knee-first step into Stevie Nash's nether regions.
Till 2moro:
Stay sassy.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Lessons learned
No matter how many times you drop a waffle into an unplugged toaster it won't cook.
If your external hard drive isn't plugged in, it also won't cook.
It's error messages like these that make me want to kick my heels up and shout (in anguish). Come on now, shout! A little bit louder now... A little bit louder now.
This guy spends a lot of money on saxophone reeds:
I have little to no errands to run today. My goal: world domination by 2057.
Let's get to work.
If your external hard drive isn't plugged in, it also won't cook.
It's error messages like these that make me want to kick my heels up and shout (in anguish). Come on now, shout! A little bit louder now... A little bit louder now.
This guy spends a lot of money on saxophone reeds:
I have little to no errands to run today. My goal: world domination by 2057.
Let's get to work.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Global warming proved fraud in one day or your money back!
The blog train is back, y'all! Stop number two.
So panic arrived one day too soon. I am not on fire. Griffith Park reportedly is. Today it was 87 degrees, and yet still downright cool in my apartment. I can stop pouring ice down my pants. Phew!
It's been a day of running errands (musicians, they're just like us! They drive all over town handling stuff that they wish they could pay a personal assistant to do!). It's days like these that make me wonder how I've ever had time to eat three squares a day, much less learn to play an instrument. Regardless of that foolishness, the beat goes on, much like the blog train.
I'm having lots of weird errors trying to get ProTools up and running. These are the days where you need your computer to be tethered to something that you can't hurl. I've put in a call to Lou Ferrigno to see if he's looking for work as a computer desk. If I can't afford a personal assistant, I probably can't afford the Incredible Hulk, but the squeaky wheel gets the grease (beauty school dropout, go back to high school).
On the agenda: watching lots of movies tonight to give myself a crash course in movie scoring. Look out Danny Elfman!
Till the 'morrow...
So panic arrived one day too soon. I am not on fire. Griffith Park reportedly is. Today it was 87 degrees, and yet still downright cool in my apartment. I can stop pouring ice down my pants. Phew!
It's been a day of running errands (musicians, they're just like us! They drive all over town handling stuff that they wish they could pay a personal assistant to do!). It's days like these that make me wonder how I've ever had time to eat three squares a day, much less learn to play an instrument. Regardless of that foolishness, the beat goes on, much like the blog train.
I'm having lots of weird errors trying to get ProTools up and running. These are the days where you need your computer to be tethered to something that you can't hurl. I've put in a call to Lou Ferrigno to see if he's looking for work as a computer desk. If I can't afford a personal assistant, I probably can't afford the Incredible Hulk, but the squeaky wheel gets the grease (beauty school dropout, go back to high school).
On the agenda: watching lots of movies tonight to give myself a crash course in movie scoring. Look out Danny Elfman!
Till the 'morrow...
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Global warming proven in one day or your money back!
The good news: you can bake a loaf of bread in the shade it's so hot right now.
The bad news: I live in an old building without air conditioning.
Therefore: I'm making ice cubes like I got a twenty dollar bill machine for my birthday.
In other news, I have MAD spam in my myspace inbox. I could feed the world with all this spam.
Last night I played in Venice at the Air Conditioned Supper Club. It lived up to it's name (although I didn't try the supper). I think the word "supper" should be used as a greeting from this moment forth.
The gig was for my friend Erica's birthday. She is nice. Gigs are nice, too.
I've officially acquired a home recording setup and every thought I have somehow modulates back to "what piece of studio-geek gear can I acquire if I mortgage a kidney?" I have API 512s for breakfast and Telefunkens for dessert.
At this moment I'm listening to the live album I recorded on my birthday. It's been pumped full of volume, EQ, compression, and other stuff any sane person doesn't want to hear about.
I'm thinking real hard about hopping back on the blog train. Let's see if my computer melts before I can reclaim my title as a "semi-regular blogger".
At the risk of jinxing something: I'm in the process of finalizing stuff to score a movie. I've dabbled in this briefly, scoring a scene or two for my friend Dan Eberle. This however will be my first full length feature where I'm "the guy". This is one small reason why I'm obsessed with acquiring recording equipment. More news to follow from this as it develops.
The bad news: I live in an old building without air conditioning.
Therefore: I'm making ice cubes like I got a twenty dollar bill machine for my birthday.
In other news, I have MAD spam in my myspace inbox. I could feed the world with all this spam.
Last night I played in Venice at the Air Conditioned Supper Club. It lived up to it's name (although I didn't try the supper). I think the word "supper" should be used as a greeting from this moment forth.
The gig was for my friend Erica's birthday. She is nice. Gigs are nice, too.
I've officially acquired a home recording setup and every thought I have somehow modulates back to "what piece of studio-geek gear can I acquire if I mortgage a kidney?" I have API 512s for breakfast and Telefunkens for dessert.
At this moment I'm listening to the live album I recorded on my birthday. It's been pumped full of volume, EQ, compression, and other stuff any sane person doesn't want to hear about.
I'm thinking real hard about hopping back on the blog train. Let's see if my computer melts before I can reclaim my title as a "semi-regular blogger".
At the risk of jinxing something: I'm in the process of finalizing stuff to score a movie. I've dabbled in this briefly, scoring a scene or two for my friend Dan Eberle. This however will be my first full length feature where I'm "the guy". This is one small reason why I'm obsessed with acquiring recording equipment. More news to follow from this as it develops.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
the team of my taste
na na na na na na na nah
they say it's your birthday
it's my birthday too, yeah
Actually, they say it was my birthday Saturday, and my profile has a picture of me in a pointy hat to prove it.
Thursday I played the Hotel Cafe. Here's the setlist;
how many times
easy for you
satellite
princess
sun still shines
only rehearsal/treat me bad
simple city/outside opinion
2x2
what if I
one spin
Brandon Rogers sat in on pianer and vox. Bill Shupp played drums and cymbals, Joel Martin played guitar, and Brett Simons played the bass. I had a mighty fine time and consumed a terabyte (terror bite?) of calories thanks to Julie G. providing the cake of three milks, or tres leches, if you prefer. It was delicious.
Saturday we had a small party at my brother's place where I recorded a pre-Benamin Franklin-style album (I think you get sued by MTV if you say Unplugged). It was me and my brother's über-fancy 1968 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, plus an upright piano. I recorded 15 songs, 12 of which are ready for prime time. There were a couple of false starts, and a song where I substituted poop [sic] instead of the correct lyric. I'm told that these should be on a bonus disc, albeit one with a parental advisory sticker.
I'm planning on selling this live album at shows and online, plus putting some video footage on youtube. It won't take long to mix and master, all I have to do is go through some pictures with Austen Risolvato and ship 'er off to the factory.
I'm doing this live album because I want to have a recording that's just me and the guitar, and also to tide over my very patient fan base. My new studio record is done (barring the composition of another song or two) and ready for mixing, but I'm lining up new management to get a strategy as to how and where to go with this album. This is to insure that my next birthday party will be hosted by P Diddy and decorated by Martha Stewart.
I'll be playing on May 7th at the Air Conditioned Supper Club, which is 625 Lincoln Blvd. in Venice, CA. Don't be afraid. There's a flyer on my profile.
In other news, I was inspired by a conversation about David Bowie's lyrics to mess around with dadaism and the cut-up technique:
* Take a newspaper.
* Take a pair of scissors.
* Choose an article as long as you are planning to make your poem.
* Cut out the article.
* Then cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them in a bag.
* Shake it gently.
* Then take out the scraps one after the other in the order in which they left the bag.
* Copy conscientiously.
* The poem will be like you.
* And here you are a writer, infinitely original and endowed with a sensibility that is charming though beyond the understanding of the vulgar.
-Tristan Tzara
I have my own technique for accidentally creating poetry. It's called the AltaVista Babel Fish translator, where you can translate phrases from English to other languages and back. Hilarity ensues.
For example:
It was my birthday on Saturday. I was given tickets to a basketball game. It was enjoyable even though my favorite team lost the game because they can't defend the pick and roll.
Once it's translated, and returned to English:
That was my birthday of Saturday. I could give the ticket to the tournament of the baseball. That those protected one piercing, being not to be possible, to roll, was pleasant to the team of my taste losing the game.
Taste losing the game, indeed.
Go Lakers! And, thanks E, E, and J for the tix.
they say it's your birthday
it's my birthday too, yeah
Actually, they say it was my birthday Saturday, and my profile has a picture of me in a pointy hat to prove it.
Thursday I played the Hotel Cafe. Here's the setlist;
how many times
easy for you
satellite
princess
sun still shines
only rehearsal/treat me bad
simple city/outside opinion
2x2
what if I
one spin
Brandon Rogers sat in on pianer and vox. Bill Shupp played drums and cymbals, Joel Martin played guitar, and Brett Simons played the bass. I had a mighty fine time and consumed a terabyte (terror bite?) of calories thanks to Julie G. providing the cake of three milks, or tres leches, if you prefer. It was delicious.
Saturday we had a small party at my brother's place where I recorded a pre-Benamin Franklin-style album (I think you get sued by MTV if you say Unplugged). It was me and my brother's über-fancy 1968 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, plus an upright piano. I recorded 15 songs, 12 of which are ready for prime time. There were a couple of false starts, and a song where I substituted poop [sic] instead of the correct lyric. I'm told that these should be on a bonus disc, albeit one with a parental advisory sticker.
I'm planning on selling this live album at shows and online, plus putting some video footage on youtube. It won't take long to mix and master, all I have to do is go through some pictures with Austen Risolvato and ship 'er off to the factory.
I'm doing this live album because I want to have a recording that's just me and the guitar, and also to tide over my very patient fan base. My new studio record is done (barring the composition of another song or two) and ready for mixing, but I'm lining up new management to get a strategy as to how and where to go with this album. This is to insure that my next birthday party will be hosted by P Diddy and decorated by Martha Stewart.
I'll be playing on May 7th at the Air Conditioned Supper Club, which is 625 Lincoln Blvd. in Venice, CA. Don't be afraid. There's a flyer on my profile.
In other news, I was inspired by a conversation about David Bowie's lyrics to mess around with dadaism and the cut-up technique:
* Take a newspaper.
* Take a pair of scissors.
* Choose an article as long as you are planning to make your poem.
* Cut out the article.
* Then cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them in a bag.
* Shake it gently.
* Then take out the scraps one after the other in the order in which they left the bag.
* Copy conscientiously.
* The poem will be like you.
* And here you are a writer, infinitely original and endowed with a sensibility that is charming though beyond the understanding of the vulgar.
-Tristan Tzara
I have my own technique for accidentally creating poetry. It's called the AltaVista Babel Fish translator, where you can translate phrases from English to other languages and back. Hilarity ensues.
For example:
It was my birthday on Saturday. I was given tickets to a basketball game. It was enjoyable even though my favorite team lost the game because they can't defend the pick and roll.
Once it's translated, and returned to English:
That was my birthday of Saturday. I could give the ticket to the tournament of the baseball. That those protected one piercing, being not to be possible, to roll, was pleasant to the team of my taste losing the game.
Taste losing the game, indeed.
Go Lakers! And, thanks E, E, and J for the tix.
Monday, April 23, 2007
clean towels in Nebraska
This is my first blog since the Virginia Tech tragedy. My heart goes out to the victims as well as their family and friends. VT was the first college I performed my own music at, thanks to a good friend who has since graduated. It was an outdoor concert that we did in 2003.
I have a birthday show at the Hotel Cafe this Thursday, April 26th at 10 pm: come one, come all. I've also uploaded a bunch of photos to my myspace page. Feast your eyes, if you're hungry.
'Member when I posted that blog saying I was going to put a new song on my myspace page? The whole "you can add a fifth song" thing to the myspace profile was apparently only for a limited amount of time. Regardless, I decided to yank "Realistic Fantasy" and insert "Easy for You" into the starting lineup. Enjoy.
I've safely returned from a musical raid on the great plains. I played Omaha, Lincoln, and Kearney, NE as well as Manhattan (the Kansas one). It was a trio tour, featuring Joel Fountain on drums and Jesse Chandler on keys. Joel and I played a bunch together in college. He was also an integral part of the garage/songwriters weekly workshop we did back in '04 with Alan Hampton. Jesse was a member of Qedrowan, (no that's not a typo) the band that Overground morphed into. Jesse plays a mean keyboard, or morg, if you prefer. *Special shout-out to Brian Corey for lending us gear. If you need a Rhodes, he's your dude.*
This tour was brought to you by the letter "Z" and the good people at Nebraska Furniture Mart. We played their awards banquet, and it marked the first time that I played "the jazz" before playing a set of "the rock and the roll". It was a "worlds collide" sort of gig that left me with a swollen lower lip from playing more soprano saxophone then I'm used to these days.
We invaded my folks' place, as I am apt to do when I'm back in the home country. Home cooked meals make it feel more like a luxury vacation (they wash the towels A LOT in Omaha) than a tour. I'm ok with this. Dues are paid in other places.
On all these shows we shared the stage with Sarah Benck and Matt Whipkey. It brings a little tear to the eye to think of all the great musicians I've gotten to know over the past few years of touring. Big ups, yo!
I found out on this trip that Nebraska passed a concealed gun law in April of 2006. Our third show of the mini-tour was in Kearney, Nebraska. There was a pool table full of chicks and dudes who were completely trashed by the time we walked in for sound check. Later, Matt Whipkey was on stage, and doing his best to rock in spite of their drunken loudness. He dedicated a Springsteen cover to them and after a little banter back and forth we heard the alpha male of the pool table yell "I oughta take you back and shootchya!" The trick is, Jesse observed this guy stretching earlier and the guy was actually packing heat. Now, I don't mean he had an easy-bake oven in a backpack, the guy had a pistol tucked into his pants. This was mind-blowing to me. After the dude made his "takeyaoutbackandshootchya" comment, I started knocking on wood to see if the table I was sitting at would be thick enough to stop a bullet. Not good times.
After the Viriginia Tech massacre I read an article that Ted Nugent wrote for CNN saying that gun free zones are responsible for the high number of fatalities in Blacksburg. His idea seems to be that if we are all armed and someone goes nuts then he or she will only get a round or two off before getting mowed down. This is true. Shooting sprees with a high number of casualties were probably not prevalent in the old west (at least not in the movies) when many people were armed. The problem is, everyone runs a high risk of being shot at all times when all people around you have a lethal weapon. For example, you run the risk of becoming target practice on stage in Kearney, NE.
I have no doubt that the guy in the bar the other night felt safe because he had a weapon to defend himself. I, on the other hand, did not feel safe. I would prefer not to need Kevlar to sponsor tours.
Thanks for reading and see you Thursday, if you're able.
I have a birthday show at the Hotel Cafe this Thursday, April 26th at 10 pm: come one, come all. I've also uploaded a bunch of photos to my myspace page. Feast your eyes, if you're hungry.
'Member when I posted that blog saying I was going to put a new song on my myspace page? The whole "you can add a fifth song" thing to the myspace profile was apparently only for a limited amount of time. Regardless, I decided to yank "Realistic Fantasy" and insert "Easy for You" into the starting lineup. Enjoy.
I've safely returned from a musical raid on the great plains. I played Omaha, Lincoln, and Kearney, NE as well as Manhattan (the Kansas one). It was a trio tour, featuring Joel Fountain on drums and Jesse Chandler on keys. Joel and I played a bunch together in college. He was also an integral part of the garage/songwriters weekly workshop we did back in '04 with Alan Hampton. Jesse was a member of Qedrowan, (no that's not a typo) the band that Overground morphed into. Jesse plays a mean keyboard, or morg, if you prefer. *Special shout-out to Brian Corey for lending us gear. If you need a Rhodes, he's your dude.*
This tour was brought to you by the letter "Z" and the good people at Nebraska Furniture Mart. We played their awards banquet, and it marked the first time that I played "the jazz" before playing a set of "the rock and the roll". It was a "worlds collide" sort of gig that left me with a swollen lower lip from playing more soprano saxophone then I'm used to these days.
We invaded my folks' place, as I am apt to do when I'm back in the home country. Home cooked meals make it feel more like a luxury vacation (they wash the towels A LOT in Omaha) than a tour. I'm ok with this. Dues are paid in other places.
On all these shows we shared the stage with Sarah Benck and Matt Whipkey. It brings a little tear to the eye to think of all the great musicians I've gotten to know over the past few years of touring. Big ups, yo!
I found out on this trip that Nebraska passed a concealed gun law in April of 2006. Our third show of the mini-tour was in Kearney, Nebraska. There was a pool table full of chicks and dudes who were completely trashed by the time we walked in for sound check. Later, Matt Whipkey was on stage, and doing his best to rock in spite of their drunken loudness. He dedicated a Springsteen cover to them and after a little banter back and forth we heard the alpha male of the pool table yell "I oughta take you back and shootchya!" The trick is, Jesse observed this guy stretching earlier and the guy was actually packing heat. Now, I don't mean he had an easy-bake oven in a backpack, the guy had a pistol tucked into his pants. This was mind-blowing to me. After the dude made his "takeyaoutbackandshootchya" comment, I started knocking on wood to see if the table I was sitting at would be thick enough to stop a bullet. Not good times.
After the Viriginia Tech massacre I read an article that Ted Nugent wrote for CNN saying that gun free zones are responsible for the high number of fatalities in Blacksburg. His idea seems to be that if we are all armed and someone goes nuts then he or she will only get a round or two off before getting mowed down. This is true. Shooting sprees with a high number of casualties were probably not prevalent in the old west (at least not in the movies) when many people were armed. The problem is, everyone runs a high risk of being shot at all times when all people around you have a lethal weapon. For example, you run the risk of becoming target practice on stage in Kearney, NE.
I have no doubt that the guy in the bar the other night felt safe because he had a weapon to defend himself. I, on the other hand, did not feel safe. I would prefer not to need Kevlar to sponsor tours.
Thanks for reading and see you Thursday, if you're able.
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