Month: May 2008 (Page 2 of 2)

In a preemptive strike to save my future political career, I hereby disavow any knowledge of the events perpetuated by one Hut234 and shamelessly blogged by one RustedRobot about my past association with Tar Hut Records.

Let me say at the outset that I vehemently disagree and strongly condemn the statements that have been the subject of this controversy. I categorically denounce any statement that disparages our great label or serves to divide me from potential future girlfriends. I also believe that words that degrade individuals have no place in our public dialogue, whether it’s on Hut234’s MySpace page or in RustedRobot’s blog. In sum, I reject outright the statements by Hut234 that are at issue.

For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know Hut234 to be an occasionally fierce critic of some of our CD art? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while at a show? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his A&R; decisions? Absolutely.

And the notion that somehow as a consequence of me knowing somebody who engaged in detestable acts 9 years ago, when I was 40 years old, somehow reflects on me and my values doesn’t make much sense.

Let me repeat what I’ve said earlier. All of the statements and odors that have been the subject of controversy are ones that I vehemently condemn.

Thank you and God Bless America.

I’m glad we said goodbye. Over the past few weeks we had a few extra meetings and some honest discussion about the whys, but throughout I acted like it wasn’t really happening; that Monday morning the cheery Aussie accent would fill my office…

Friday was Natira’s last day at Kronos. She and Rod are going home to Sydney, Australia after 2 1/2 years stateside. Last night I attended a “Farewell to the Fabulous Drayton’s” party at Barb’s. My date for the evening was little Miss Madison, as Megan was employed for the evenings events. Seeing a blanket-swaddled Madison “flying” in Rod’s arms on the deck with the Atlantic Ocean backdrop was the lightest moment of the night for me. A happy girl with a natural future dad…

Near baby departure time, the young bartender passed small Limoncello shots to all the guests for a toast. I passed, but looked up astonished to see Kyle throw back the first alcohol to ever pass his lips. He took a little teasing, but was unaffected and sang all the way home.

Rod and Natira came out to the car with us to give me Nat’s laptop and a nice bagel-width toaster. After the formalities, we entered an awkward embrace; words jumbled in my mind and choking vocal chords unaiding their delivery. My final impression is of the silhouetted couple walking away hand in hand. Beautiful.

I didn’t think it was going to be so hard.

So what do you say when they slip away?
That’s how it is
And you can’t change a thing about the way things are
So I’m not trying

Keeping track of the brand new days
I wish that I could turn them in
To something different than what we’ve got
Cuz now we’re missing your ways
Oh yeah we’re missing your ways

Goodbye Friend

Anders Parker – “Goodbye Friend” from Tell it to the Dust – 2004

Esquire online’s article, “75 Skills Men Should Be Able to Do” put me to the test. Here’s the top 10 and a few others…

1. Give advice that matters in one sentence. – Yeah, sure. Don’t lie.
2. Tell if someone is lying. – My perception is good.
3. Take a photo. The Esquire article said, “Fill the frame.” That doesn’t exactly follow the “rule of thirds,” but regardless, I’m far from checking this off the list.
4. Score a baseball game. – Just Thursday night I shared the story of how teaching Miss Megan how to keep score kept the 5 year old interested in her first Sox game on July 7, 1994, featuring Seattle’s Randy Johnson v. Aaron Sele. The game was flying and the Sox led 3-1 going into the 9th. A Ken Griffey Jr. double off the monster tied it in the 9th. Seattle won it in the 10th. Welcome to Red Sox Nation, my girl.
5. Name a book that matters. – “Moby-Dick” by Herman Melville. It’s also got a great drum solo by John Bonham on the live record.
6. Know at least one musical group as well as is possible. – I love music and I can tell you how Wilco and Son Volt rose from the dead Uncle Tupelo. I also know two leaders of another band are Gene Klein and Stanley Eisen, but you don’t care about that either.
7. Cook meat somewhere other than the grill. – Check.
8. Not monopolize the conversation. – I need to work on my monopolizing skills.
9. Write a letter. – Tends to get me in big trouble, but yeah.
10. Buy a suit. – Wool. Black, Navy or Charcoal. Pinstripe or not. Avoid yellow.

Others:
14. Chop down a tree. – How’s that skill #14?
18. Speak a foreign language. – I will learn some French and go where they speak it.
19. Approach a woman out of his league. – Are there classes on this?
30. Feign interest. – I hate being phony, but this is an unfortunate skill requirement.
35. Jump-start a car (without any drama). Change a flat tire (safely). Change the oil (once). – Yes, but I’d rather not.
46. Tell a woman’s dress size. – Not sure, but I think 6 is good. Small, Hot, Medium and Large?
60. Be brand loyal to at least one product. – Cheeze-Its
68. Find his way out of the woods if lost. – With my slice, this is very important.
71. Iron a shirt. – See #35 above.
75. Negotiate a better price. – Be willing to walk.

It doesn’t matter what the definition of is is. It is over. Even after the infuriating, pandering tactics of Hillary Clinton over the past few months, I was a bit saddened watching her deflated “victory” speech last night, complete with a shameless pitch for more money. What’s so brazen about Sen. Clinton asking for money now is that it’s most likely going in her pocket to repay the $5M loan she provided her campaign. Sad.

The “egg heads and African-Americans” line came from Clinton supporter Paul Begala on CNN last night. Mr. Begala suggested the Democrats can’t win in November without the white, middle-class voters his candidate spent so much energy pandering to with shots (guns and Crown Royal) and promises of a gas-tax holiday. On Sunday, Mrs. Clinton was challenged to name one economist who supported her holiday. When she replied, “I’m not going to put my lot in with economists,” what she really meant was, I can’t justify my lame, pandering promise.

I’m optimistic Barack Obama’s honesty on the issues is paying off with thoughtful voters, but I do worry that race will be exploited in the Fall and I wonder how many of the key white, middle-class voters will just pick the white guy on November 4th. Certainly, race is a factor in African-Americans siding with Obama at a 9-1 clip, but will Sen. Clinton’s base of older, white women be unable to choose a black man? After last night, it looks like we’ll find out as Sen. Obama survived the Clinton’s final assault, and will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States.

I’ve written some here about my own “glory days,” playing ball before I turned 20. Wow. It just now occurs to me that summer of 1978 is not “closer than it appears” in the rear view. I hit a baseball that August I’ll never forget, but at the time I lacked the experience to realize the ball I had violently smashed would not be retrieved that day. Instead of enjoying the flight, I stole a quick peek of the shrinking dot headed for the treetops and ran, head down toward the first corner.

When Manny Ramirez soon hits his 500th home run, he’ll leave his arms extended and pointed at the sky. He’ll enjoy the entire journey until the ball disappears or is engulfed in a pig-pile of lottery hopefuls.

Among life’s clichés, “be sure to smell the flowers along the way,” which I attribute to Jack Nicklaus, but really was spoken by Walter Hagen, is up there for me. Unfortunately, the flowers are beyond the periphery of looking down, running for third.

How many people truly “live as if each day is their last?” What about the Zen of “living in the moment.” I’m just putting one foot in front of the other, like a first-time marathoner being steamrolled on Heartbreak Hill. I have to do lists for work and home, bills to manage, and complex puzzles to solve about how I can leave this place a better one for my children and grandchildren. I’m also becoming increasingly anti-social. Recently a friend told me his wife helped cure his anti-social leanings by helping him see how friends, family and relationships are more important than “stuff.” I get it, but stepping outside the pod bay doors is risky.

Another solid saying is, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” So true. I experience it every time I use my stair climber. The first step is the only tough one, but it’s a mental step and those can be more challenging when the path is strewn with old baggage. There’s so much more I could be doing in so many directions with my unfinished life. It’s all out there. Step up. Head up. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.

That was my 500th post. As it leaves the yard, I hope it wasn’t too cliché.

The Enrico Palazzo* of our family is taking singing lessons, and his teacher is a very accomplished soprano, Beth Keusch. She has performed all over the world and has a Lincoln Center date later this month. I don’t know if she’ll train Kyle to sing like her, but with Kyle’s spirit and ability to carry a tune with no training to date, who knows how good he’ll get. That’s beside the point though. Kyle’s happiness is what’s important, and when he’s singing he’s happy. Oh, and when he thinks no one is watching, he really lets it rip…

* The opera singer Leslie Nielsen impersonates in The Naked Gun.

Great line and imagery by Maureen Dowd in the NYT: “The lioness of Chappaqua is hot on the trail of the Chicago gazelle, eager to gnaw him to pieces, like a harrowing scene out of a George Stubbs painting.”

“Developing my own personal brand,” may be ridiculed by some, but we all do it to some extent. The choice of Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, or no-name coffee from the bagel shop is somewhat a personal branding selection. I recall articles on the subject a couple years ago, but my inspiration for this post is, “You are not your bookcase” by Megan Hustad in Salon. Ms. Hustad suggests, “Type up a shadow list of products, one that really captures you. Print it out. Stare at the list. Take a deep breath. Let yourself be humbled. Then toss it in the recycling bin. Step outside and take a walk.”

Here we go…

• House – 1930 Hollywood Bungalow with stucco, curves and cracks. A ranch it’s not.
• Car – This may be the top personal branding product for people who don’t have a boat or plane. Think about what people are trying to project when they drive a Prius or a Hummer. For me, it’s an old and square ’96 Volvo 850, but at 226K, it’s done a mile or two… and continues to.
• Music Player – iPod Nano doesn’t really set me apart.
• Cellphone – The LeoTreo is now old and fat compared to the youngsters, but it’s not a Blackberry.
• Life size TV – After 16 years of employment, I still feel the tug of brand loyalty. Not to mention the kick ass picture. NEC Plasma HDTV
• Shoes – Bostonian and Johnson & Murphy in rotation with a third for suit wearing occasions.
• Athletic shoes – New Balance and Nike – NB accommodates fat feet and the Swoosh were very comfy for racquetball.
• Jeans by Perry Ellis and Nautica – Whatever basic jeans I like that fit at Mar Shalls. I’d go for Levi’s, but those brown size tags would reveal exactly how much ass makes mine look fat in them…
• Chaps Sport Shirts – Comfortable, basic. 100% cotton.
• Calphalon Commercial Hard-Anodized cookware hanging in my kitchen is probably as much a branding statement as a storage solution.
• Presidential Candidate – The smart, honest and cool Barack Obama.
• Music – A sliver of noncommercial that might help me seem hip.
• Baby Formula – Similac Organic…Nothing but the best for the little one.

Now I do need to go for a walk. What Do You Do To Be Branded?

I’ve wanted to post something on the concept of “drama” since I’ve been recently confronting it. One person implored to me dramatically, “drama is reality,” as if I needed to embrace its inevitability. From what I dimly recall from “History of Theatre” in college, the origins of drama are Greek and are comprised of tragedy, comedy, and satire. I think we’re talking all three here…

My brief research on the subject B-listed a movie, “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen,” starring Lindsay Lohan who probably employed very natural method acting for the role. I lived through this phenomenon when my girls were teenagers, but people eventually grow out of this, right? I mean the “drama” Wikipedia describes as, “unnecessary emotional turmoil, such as that created through social events or gossip.”

It’s surprising how much gossiping and badmouthing goes on by people who are otherwise considered professional adults. Some of these people are just immature, but others are real jerks. Maybe it makes life more interesting or fun or it makes the purveyors feel better about themselves. I don’t know, but I wish to avoid it.

* My apologies to Jason Isbell for borrowing the title from one of his great songs for this lame post.

With all this talk about the Democratic nominating process being a horserace, I’m reminded the first Saturday in May is a day in Kentucky to sip a Mint Julep and enjoy “The Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports.” I’ve never been to the Derby itself, but five years ago today, Kyle and I raced to Suffolk Downs in East Boston and met a friend for a day of live racing and a simulcast of the “run for the roses.” I have many other memories of Suffolk Downs with my Dad and also of a sunny breakfast, garnished with infield flamingos at the grand old Hialeah Park Race Track near Miami with him in ‘73. Sadly, Hialeah’s pastels have faded, and it’s been a graying, dusty cavern of emptiness since 2001.

All this returned to me yesterday while reading, “Why Doesn’t Anybody Go to the Horse Races?” in Slate. The article bemoans off-track and internet betting as the reason there are so few tracks left. I think the problem is deeper, and is another reflection of our declining interest in thinking. Think about it. (sorry) Handicapping a horse race takes some thought about lineage, performance history, rest, weight, jockey, trainer, and even an intuition about how a horse appears before a race. Sometimes the look and body language of a horse can reveal its desire to run. You don’t have to expend any mental energy trying to pick up those vibes from a machine. “Gimme a quick pick” is all it takes to stuff state coffers with lottery billions. You see the same phenomena in a casino where most hard dollars roll in by the coin and a one armed assist. We’re more willing than ever to gamble away our money. Just don’t ask us to think about it.

Yeah, the days of romance and horseracing are in the dust like the field chasing Secretariat in the 1973 Belmont Stakes. For a dwindling few, happy memories remain.