cd: Slumber Party's self titled
I got this cd as a free promo for subscribing to Magnet. It sux. Well, I shouldn't say that yet, 'cos I haven't heard the whole thing yet, and its only my first time. But this is a terrible first impression. Very boring. The singer sounds very uninterested in her own work, or maybe any energy was lost in the deluge of reverb applied to the album. This sounds like a group of beginners trying their hand at writing their own songs. Plenty of guitar mistakes have been allowed to come through, which causes me to wonder how they sounded on one of the outtakes. Maybe if the music were more difficult to play, I could understand a few mistakes here and there. But the guitar work sounds very similar to my early forays into recording - not exactly inspiring stuff. No chances taken, as a matter of fact, there hardly any notes played that aren't found in the current triad. Very tonal. No dissonanace has befallen my ears yet, and I'm on track seven. Its just very simple-minded and rules-following. I think their guitarist should spend less time finding new sounds on her digital multi effects pedal, and more time learning a few scales, licks, and for godsakes, some syncopation. The whole band can work on that one. Straight eights are not doing it for me. Yes, this sounds a lot like some of my first recordings, when I was just barely learning to play guitar. (I made got my first guitar and made my first recording on the same day, just to give you an idea of how new I was to guitar at the time. Sept 11, 1997, as a matter of fact.) Wow. I hope I wake up tomorrow, give this another listen and find out that I was wrong, 'cos I'm not digging it right now. Slumber Party. What a suitable name. And apparently this is the only band ever signed to Kill Rock Stars based off a demo tape. Yeah right. Either something's going on behind the scenes here, or KRS gets nothing but horrid crap sent to them in mass quantities. In a sick and twisted way, this gives me a good deal of hope, 'cos if these amateurs can make it, then I'm guaranteed a long and successful career.

Tonight some joker was trying to defend the major record labels and attack napster. Yeah right buddy. Here's our conversation (what he said is in quotes): "Well, if they copywrite the songs," he said "then people have no place stealing them." And you don't think its wrong that the label stole the copywrite from the artist? "Well, the artist should know what they're getting into." And as long as you feed the corporate machine, the artist has no alternative that compares with major-label backing. Napster could have been that alternative. "Well, its all about making money. That's what the corporations are good at. That's why the artist signs to them." Corporations are the devil. "No they're not! Corporations are what make america great." Oh yeah, america sure is great. "Would you rather live under a dictatorship?" We all ready live under a fucking dictatorship! The corporations are the dictators!
What the hell does this fucker know? He sells software at the dickyard mediaplay and kisses his district managers ass. Allegedly, this boy who is roughly the same size as me is the best wrestler there is, but he just refs for a travelling wrestling show (that travels from orem to flagstaff, az). He is also a musician. Yeah right. I'd kick yer ass right off the stage and you know it.

Okay, its late. I'm out.

cd: Tracy Bonham's "Down Here" (Still)
Things aren't going well for me, and I might not blog for a while. I'm not sure. I just sent an insane email to Tony. He's probably reading it now and thinking I need help. I just wrote the same old stuff; I'm lost. I'm stuck. I'm drowning. Pretty freaky stuff. Again, I'm sorry Tony. It's slipping away from me, folks. I know it. And I don't know exactly where I'm going, but I'm going there fast. This is one wild ride that just flew off the track. Dammit. "I may seem fine but things are different over here." to quote a song that I'm starting to like. (Tony, you may be the only one to recogize that... as always!) Oh well, I'm not sad like I used to be. My old friend that comes around to push me off cliffs isn't here this time. That's good. Maybe I can have some fun with this. We'll see...

cd: Tracy Bonham's "Down Here"
Today I spent most of my time at the mall with Amy, buying shoes. That was a lot of fun, thanks for calling me, Amy. Then I saw a symphony tonight with Chris. That ruled. I had a pretty good day.

I should have mentioned last night (while I was listening to Fiona Apple) that the guitar solo by Jon Brion in the coda of "Carrion" is probably my most favorite of all time. Its insane; starting with a double-stopped rapid-strummed melody sounding like Dick Dale (or maybe Django Reinhardt) playing an electric mandolin. Then its half-note bends all the way down the neck, and an octave jumping bend-vibrato riff followed by a singing classical vibrato note that fades out and back in (most likely by using the volume control on the guitar). Then the guitar walks up in 3/4 time to reach the closing chord. I want to play like that.

Another great solo of note: the acoustic guitar verse of Nelly Furtado's "Turn Off The Light." (I believe this is the work of Field, credited as playing the "pitched-up guitar" on the track. For all I know, it could be the "swamp" guitarist James McCollum) Its very bluesy, with a real soulful swing, and rhythmic phrasic that suggest that the performer has a real handle on what he's doing, but a lightness that makes it sound entirely improvised on the spot. Oh, and it finishes with one of those Dick Dale/Django Reinhardt things I described in the last paragraph.

I shouldn't write about all these great solos without mentioning the solos of the Beatles. Some of my favorites: The syncopated, string jumping melody on "Fixing A Hole," Harrison's Spanish Guitar Magic on "Till There Was You" and "And I Love Her," his bendy riffs on "Drive My Car" and "You're Going To Lose That Girl," McCartney's well-thought-out direct-injected guitar verse in "Michelle," and, of course, the "guitar duel" amongst Paul, a very Clapton sounding George, and a very Townsend sounding John in "The End."

Writing about music really just lets me focus on something other than all the problems I'm having at the moment. Sorry if none of you care. Its just good for me. I've been saying "I'm at a complete loss" a lot lately. I guess that says something about what's going on in my head.

cd: Fiona Apple's "Tidal"
Well, looking back through my past blogs, I see that I got out of depression on the 18th... Damn. I almost made it a week. But it found its way back tonight. I should see it coming, since it always hits me right as everything seems to come together and make sense. Now nothing makes sense again. Well, I guess the funnest part of a rollercoaster is when it takes the big plunge, right?

It has been brought to my attention that there may be somebody I purposely didn't invite here reading this website. This and my friends' sites are being infiltrated by unwanted eyes. If you are reading this, FUCK OFF!!! Get the hell out of my website. There's a reason I didn't invite you, and I don't want you here.

I don't feel like writing anything else.

cd: Ani Difranco's "Dilate"
Okay, I should be heading off to school, but I'm going to skip my first class today, 'cos like I said before, its lame as hell. Besides, I got another neck injury last night while skiing. You know how your head begins to fall and you quickly jerk it back up when you are falling asleep in class? Well, that would probably be pretty bad for my neck today, and I'm sure that's what would happen.

Okay, only two grammys were awarded to the right people. First off, Douglas Spotted Eagle won a grammy in the first award given for Native American music. (Ironically, Douglas is Polish.) This morning fox news commemorated the event as "the first time the awards have recognized Native American music as a valid art form." Yeah, I'm sure the Native Americans across the country are really glad that their centuries-old traditions are being recognized by the white folk. I'm reminded of a rant; "...the satan-dog white-hair bitch..."

Second grammy that fell into the right hands: Foo Fighters "There Is Nothing Left To Lose" won best rock album of the year. (Ironically, it was released in 1999.) They deserved this.

Now, if a grammy were actually worth anything, that would mean something.

Well, I'll tell what it does mean: mediaplay fort onion is now going to be well stocked on steely dan's "two against nature;" the "album of the year."

"Down Here" is the album of the year! Didn't those guys read my second blog?

cd: Stevie Wonder's "Songs In The Key Of Life"
I watched the first five minutes of the grammys tonight while I was eating dinner. Having skied for the past few hours, I should have avoided television altogether - I was just too exhausted to get upset about it. Madonna performed "music" live... well, not exactly live; there was a dj just playing the pre-recorded backing track. I don't think she was lip-syncing... She still has got to be one of the world's hottest milfs though. Then, our host, jon stewart, came out and watched all his jokes die nameless on the floor before him. Only point of interest in his monologue: he called eminem gay... very gay. But the audience didn't seem interested. Damn. I would have given him a standing ovation for that. Then I would have walked out 'cos the grammys blow.

Aimee Mann didn't win the best pop vocal female performance or whatever its called. The most qualified never wins. Actually, the best never even get nominated. Tracy Bonham should have been a lock on this category. Think about it for a sec... can you honestly argue that britney spears turned in a better performance than Tracy? Well, then I'd like to hear it, 'cos yer wrong.

If someone out there understands senate committee rules, will you please explain something to me? The head of the human resources committee of the senate refused to schedule a hearing on the bill that would make birth control be covered by insurance. And when the last day for the bill to be introduced passed today, the senator just grinned and said, "Damn, it's too late." What is this? Don't we have lots of senators to make this decision, not just one? How does one man have the power to keep a bill from ever being voted on? There must be something I'm not understanding here, 'cos this just seems wrong.

Big surprise here... the white supremacists and the eagle forum have taken the same side. This time its about the hate crimes bill. The supremacists oppose it 'cos they don't want what they do to be against the law. The eagle forum is just against it 'cos it is a great idea. They're against those. The ruzickatistas stand together to fight anything that will make this state, this country, or this world a better place. Where would we be without them? (Utopia?)

On this subject... Jill Sobule admitted that she loves listening to those awful ultra-conservative radio talk shows like doctor laura et al. Why? "I have the same fascination with them as I do with watching nazis on the history channel." Well put.

See? I don't think this website is that cool when I'm not depressed.

cd: The Rosenbergs' "Mission: You" (Finally)
Yay! This awesome cd got released today. Oh, and just incase this never-sell-out band wasn't cool enough all ready (see blog from Feb. 13), the cd came with an extra copy for free, saying "Give this to one of your friends. Support Napster." Goddamn! Uh! Right now that extra copy is residing at the fort onion mediaplay for everyone to enjoy.

What is porn? Some Utah high school students have the answer: "R-Rated Movies." "Michaelangelo's 'David.'" Please, please, please vote to give the Utah education system more money!!! As you can plainly see, its failing utterly. "David" is porn? And a forty-year-old virgin mormon is supposed to decide what is decent in this state? Great, well, I'd better watch "Breakfast Club" before it gets outlawed because of its rating.

How long can this place strangle itself before the people revolt?

Stevie is the man. Right now I'm listening to "Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing." I'm reminded of the time I heard it performed live by the LBCC jazz band. My teacher was conducting them outside on the steps of the auditorium and Joanne and I sat on the grass underneath the trees with a bunch of grandparents. It was one of those perfect, cool summer evenings; the kind they get every night in SoCal. The band was great. Joanne and I went out to dinner at baja fresh after the concert and then to kinko's to copy off every edition of the geo-thermal man comic strip. We talked about how everything in your past leads to where you are presently at, and that we were thankful for every small thing that led to where we were currently at. Ironically, I feel now that if I'd have stayed, I might be much happier than I am right now. I wish my mind would stop getting in the way and ruining everything.

Music is so much more alive in long beach. Besides that concert, I also saw a flamenco ensemble performing in a borders bookstore. And when I went to skyline park atop signal hill I could hear the symphony playing in another park closer to my house. In one and a half months, three performances is still more than I've seen in the past four months here. Not to mention the fact that I was constantly surrounded by people who were destined to make it as musicians. Very different from this musical wasteland, where no one wants to put any effort into a "hobby." Maybe someday I should return to signal hill.

Memories and dreams. Same thing, only going in different directions.

cd: Ani Difranco's "Little Plastic Castle" (Still)

So, we attacked Iraq again today. And the Dow dropped again today. I had a bacon-wrapped sirloin steak at sizzler and a chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cone at squirrel bros. Mindless kids tried to decimate themselves on state street tonight but failed. So they turned around and tried again. The wierd customers at work tonight didn't seem so wierd. The normal customers didn't seem so normal. The old men with their suits and ties glared at me and the young girls in their abercrombie uniforms stared at me. A pair of headlights just slowly pulled in to my circle looking like the glowing eyes of some disoriented bug that is desperately hoping to re-find the light that just blinded it.

A good friend told me I can't sing.

Some of the friends I miss most aren't separated from me by distance. They're separated from me by time. I wish I could find them all again, tell them I'm sorry, and try to get things back the way they were. But maybe the impossibility is my punishment for my mistakes.

I wish I knew what was happening.

cd: Lucy Pearl
This cd is incredible. Lucy Pearl is the greatest r&b group to come along in years. I love this cd and listen to it all the time. But none of you have to. Does it matter what I say about this cd? Or any of the others? Does it matter what I write here at all? Probably not. Is this supposed to be a daily journal? Okay, here you go:

I skipped my first class today 'cos its lame as hell. I went to my second class and took a nine question test on Jazz and Beethoven. I slaughtered it. Then I talked to my music teacher who just got back from Stuttgart where he debuted a piece of avant-garde music for two pianos and two percussionists playing about a hundred different instruments. Then I came home and found out that topica.com kicked me off the happytown mailing list for no reason. When I wrote them and asked them to reinstate me, they said they had tons of other letters regarding customer service that they are sorting through and they would get to mine. Here's a tip: stop kicking people off for no reason, and then you won't have so many customer issues to deal with! And the fucking wart on the inside my index finger is still there. I've frozen and burned it so many times that the skin around it is deteriorating. This is the index finger on my left hand; the finger that forms every barre chord on the guitar. Dammit!!! See Amy, this is what I mean when I say that the world is exactly how you look at it. Now that I'm upset, every little thing is only kicking it while I'm down. I need to rise above it.

Fuck dystymia!!!

cd: The Waxwings' "Low To The Ground" (Again)
See, how am I supposed to perform anywhere without a full band? Why the hell does no one want to devote any time to putting together a band and making it work? Everyone I talk to doesn't want to devote any of their precious time to something that would be a lot of fun. I'd like to say "well, they're missing out," but in truth, I'm the one missing out. I'm worth nothing without a band. I've tried. Believe me, I try every day. I tried to go without a full band, but that's just a joke. It isn't easy, understand? You can't just go out and find good musicians who want to put effort into something worthwhile. They're not in abundance. So, I get to see everything I want in life remain hopelessly out of my reach.

Not that I'm getting that much support from someone I need it from the most. A college degree is all that matters to him. It doesn't matter if I'm miserable and lonely the rest of my life, as long as I have a degree and I've got a job where I'm making a salary somewhat comparable to his. That's all that really matters in the end, isn't it? Money? Yeah, right. So its entirely unacceptable that I can easily forget about money if it means that I can just create my art. I'm not living the good life under those standards. Dammit! All I want is to tour with a band on an indy label. That's it. You can leave the rest up to me. I'll take care of it. But no, apparently that's not the life for me.

Dammit, Quinn, write a new blog!

What is the point of all this?

cd: The Rosenbergs' "Mission: You"
Yes, pop can still be good. Especially when its from the never-sell-out band, The Rosenbergs. Right after the copyright on the back of the cd, there is a note that their label, Discipline Global Mobile, operates the copyright, but the Rosenbergs hold it themselves, instead of the label. Disclipline refuses to abide by this "'common practice' which was always questionable, often improper, and is now indefinsible." Apparently, a website was promoting a show at which "someone is going to get a record deal." And the Rosenbergs replied "is that a threat?" Shit yeah it's cool! Right now I'm making a tape of this great album which I am borrowing from Bill. I have to wait until february twenty for it to be released. I'll be there at Salt City CDs on that day, believe me.

Things seem to be making sense.

cd: The Waxwings' "Low To The Ground"
I just bought this cd at their show and had them all sign it. Then I hurried home to listen to it all again. My first reaction to the cd wasn't so hot. I thought they were cool ("a little Taxiride-ish"), but probably not going to be one of my favorite bands. Tonight changed all that. When they're very loud, very raw, and very into it, they are the best band I've seen in a long time. Wow. Their cd is a little calmer, the instruments turned down and toned down a little, and the vocals aren't live. But when its all in your face in a tiny shack in a back alley, there's not much better. Tonight was inspirational. Dominic Romano is one of my new heroes.

The place I saw them at, Kilby Court, is pretty cool too. Its pretty much a little shack in the back of an alley out by the railroad tracks. But the people there are awsome. I met several people tonight (incl. the members of the Waxwings), and felt very comfortable around the type of people there. It probably would have been even better if I had someone to go with me, but oh well, once the music started I zoned out on everything else anyways. I think this is a place I will like to frequent more... frequently.

I think things are all coming together for me.

Shalom. All right, I'm listening to Dido right now. I feel like I'm in Long Beach, lying in my bed, my fan on top of my bass amp set on high and humming quietly, a helicopter circling overhead, the neighbors behind me engaging in a midnight basketball game, "Hamlet" lying on the floor next to a brochure on Shure microphones, my guitar leaning against the foot of my bed. In a few hours I'd wake to a foggy morning, check my empty email, eat some chocolate poundcake I bought with my Ralph's card, and read my latest Issue of Rolling Stone before heading off to record production class. I'm very careful to correct people when they assume that I didn't like Long Beach, because I really did love it there. It was the part about being away from all my friends that I couldn't stand. I really realized how lucky I am to have Tony, Chris, Quinn, Amy, Bill, and Joanne as great friends. They are all great people, and just to think that they consider me a friend is at times unimaginable. I guess this is one of those times. Sometimes I'm not sure if I really let them know how much they mean to me.

P.S. Tony has joined the blogging community. www.boomstick.blogspot.com Visit it and be enlightened.

Hola. The Waxwings make some great music, even if their lyrics are a little Taxiride-ish at times. Bill would probably dismiss this by saying, "they're pop." But pop doesn't necessarily have to be glib (I hope). I mean, "A Day In The Life" is still pop. The Waxwings' lead singer. Dean Fertita sounds like a cross between Mike Love and Art Alexakis, only way less annoying than both. And their label, Bobsled Records is just cool.

All right, I need to let you all know something. Amy is a totally kick-ass singer! I heard her sing last night, and it's not like I was expecting her to be bad. But I was not expecting her to be this good. And her songs rule too. When she first played the chords to them for me, I was like, "okay, that's cool." But then when she sang along everything clicked. It totally ruled. It makes me a little jealous that a beginner is all ready way more talented than I am after years of practice. Oh well, I'm happy for her and I encourage her to make the most of her potential.

So, I learned something cool today. Beethoven was the first rocker. Honestly, all his music was about was breaking the rules of the time, while making music that was still way better than anything anyone had ever heard. His music was so advanced at the time that he was widely disliked by the general population. All the people wanted was stupid, simple music that didn't make them think. Only a select number of advanced music listeners were able to truly appreciate his music. (I guess history repeats itself, no?) Beethoven made a mockery of the whole rule-based system composers had to go by at the time. (He even renamed his minuets "scherzos" which is Italian for "jokes.") Music was supposed to be organized and balanced, and that little bitchass of a virtuoso named Mozart happily followed these rules. But Beethoven was like: "Fine, I have to play by the rules? Well check this out!" Then he would go about mixing things up so bad, trying things never tried before, and doing it all at a tempo so fast that nobody could tell what was supposed to be going on. And the best part is that it really rocks. Beethoven used to play so hard that the piano strings would break! Contemporary "owner's manuals" for pianos described his style of playing as misuse of the instrument! Find me someone today who is so daring and so brilliant. If you do, I guarantee that he or she will never get any radio airplay. Ha!

Hi guys and girls. Poe is really really cool, you should listen to her music. Oh, I thought of something that was a little comforting earlier today. You know how I felt guilty working for the man? Well, one thing that is cool is that I am taking the money they pay me, and I'm putting it into local independent businesses - especially (as Quinn and Amy know well) into local (non-chain) restaurants, and a certain used and rare books store. Not to mention the fact that I bought my spectacular guitar at a place called "Local Music," for pete's sake, instead of one of the corporate boihemioths that are sucking the life away from independent instrument retailers. These hellholes, Mars and Guitar Center (formerly known as Musician's Feeblius Dickweed amongst the crew), must pay some fourteen-year-old hack to sit in front of a Marshall half stack with a Jackson and painfully, unsuccessfully try to reconstruct the riff to "Crazy Train," at full volume.

All right, just a thought. Talk to you all soon.

Hey everyone, I feel a bit apologetic for last night's blog. I think it was a little weak compared to the one before it. In truth, last night's was originally a lot longer, and I edited out all the less important, tangent stuff to make it readable. But I think I may have cut out the goods. So, sorry if my entry seems a little... I don't know... prosaic? Problems with the man ain't new, I guess. However, I am proud of the fact that my recent work has garnished compliments from the proprietor of lesthey.blogspot.com, whose daily rants consistently put mine to shame.

Today I purchased a DVD of ten episodes of "Friends," one of my favorite shows. As a great surprise to me, the DVDs include the music video for "I'll Be There For You (Theme From Friends)" performed by none other than Phil Solem and Danny Wilde - THE REMBRANDTS. I haven't seen this video in years, and it was spectacular to see the boys in action after I now know so much more about them and have come to love their music so much. When this video was first getting mtv and radio airplay, I was just 15. We had just gotten cable, so the whole "culture" of pop music was beginning to enter my life, and soon I turned the radio on in my room as I sat in front of a typewriter with a blank sheet of paper inserted in it, humming quietly while I waited for inspiration to come over for a visit. One day, by request, a radio station played "I'll Be There For You," by some group I'd never heard of before. I liked it. A few days later, the video was all over mtv. Featuring the cast members of Friends, the video enjoyed heavy airplay along with Alanis Morisette's "You Oughta Know" in the days before boybands and trl. I would watch for a while, then take a dip in the new pool in our backyard before heading off to driving school, where I would quietly long for the girl in the back row with the dark skin and shirts that fit tightly in all the right places. My sister bought "L.P." and "Jagged Little Pill" on the same day, being one of those pop consumers who must have the album with the hit song on it. Luck must have been with her that day, since finding even one great album based on hearing one hit song is very hard to do, let alone two. These two CDs found their way into my room, where I played them on a borrowed stereo as I thought out plotlines for my future novels. This was before I'd ever written a song, stayed out past midnight, or kissed a girl. But things were changing for me. The pool had gotten me out of the house more, the driving class had got me lusting for women, and those two CDs had got me interested in something that hadn't held the same attraction for me before: music.

On the night of my sophomore homecoming dance, my mom drove me over to Angela Bowman's house. My first date. "L.P." was playing in the car on the way there. Angela was the gorgeous blonde who sat behind me in homeroom (her name coming right after mine in the alphabet). Later that night I asked her to be my girlfriend; not knowing that years later I would be planning on asking her to be my wife. Not knowing that I would lose my virginity to her or have my heart broken (several times) by her. "L.P." played on the way home from her house - my dad and I didn't talk, I just listened. My obsession with "L.P." and music in general grew and grew. For my 16th birthday I received my own stereo from my parents, the Rembrandts first CD from my sister, and the soundtrack to "Friends" from Angela, who also later suggested that "I'll Be There For You" be our song. "L.P." followed me in my car to school, in a walkman into the hallways, and on a discman on every vacation I've ever taken since. I'm listening to it right now, and I just heard something new: there is some airy electric piano just barely audible at 2:54 on "Comin' Home." How did they create such a perfect album? Right now its joining the extremely short list of music that can make me cry. It's so good it hurts.

Well, it looks as though my blog has broke on through to the other side, eh? Well, I can't let you down after my previous catharsis, so I will try to keep it up.

All right, so a few years back, when I had first declared myself a songwriter, I formulated my "Big Plan." I was going to get signed to a major record label based on the quality of my work, and they would believe in it and support it, and soon everyone would be buying my CDs, and I would be responsible for the return of good, artistically-valid music to pop mainstream. How was I supposed to know any better? Look where I was getting my information from: mtv and the radio. "These people think that Britney Spears is good?" I thought to myself, "Well, wait until they hear what I've got!" How is anyone supposed to know what is really behind all this? They announce these artists as though they made it based on the quality of their work, not the amount of money spent to get them where they are. So you think to yourself: "Hell, my worst song would blow all this crap off the airwaves." Then I found out that this isn't true.

My first clue came when "L.P." by the Rembrandts went entirely unnoticed in the pop mainstream. This didn't conform with my schema. As far as I could tell, good music received the recognition it deserved. (Considering the fact that I listened mostly to Beatles my whole life, this assumption doesn't seem so far-fetched.) This didn't fit, though. I knew that this was great music I was hearing, and it was going ignored. What the hell? That's not right. Then I began picking up their older CDs, only to find that this great music has been ignored for years. Now something was really amiss. And then "All The Pain Money Can Buy" by Fastball came along, and was chock-full of great tunes that never saw the harsh light of day on the radio. Why not? What is wrong? Painfully, I had to come to the realization that quality and popularity were not directly proportional. My big plan was screwed.

Oddly enough, I kept hope alive for a long time, thinking that somehow I would be different, and I would beat these popsters at their own game. I had to believe this, really, or lose all hope. At this time there was still nothing outside the mainstream as far as I could see. I might as well not exist if my songs weren't playing on the radio. Everywhere I looked to at the time seemed only to confirm this fact.

There are people out there screaming at the top of their lungs: "People, listen! You are being had! This is not real!" But they are dismissed. These people are Us, actually. I've had the wool pulled over my standard-issue rose-colored glasses for years. Now I want to be another voice crying out against the commercialization of what once was an art.

Now I've come to the realization that we don't need them. Indy music survives pretty well on its own, thank you very much. It is almost the constant struggle against the man that keeps it alive. If it ever went mainstream, it too would become corrupted. Then we would have nowhere left to turn. Fortunately right now, the american green means so much in the music business that the only way a band becomes mainstream is by selling out. I guess that keeps all this good music away from Them and saves it all for Us. I, for one, am never going to be signed to a major label. Its just wrong. Should I really care if Napster is stealing these songs from the artists? Hell no! I'm just as much an artist as they are, I feel just as strongly about my work as they do. How would I feel if my songs were "pirated" on Napster? Flattered. If I never saw a dime for my music but was rich with the knowledge that hundreds of people enjoy it, then my work here is done. Or just beginning, rather. I can support myself by other means if I have to. Oh, so I can't buy a different sports car for every day of the week? Oh, so I can't fly first class to a five star hotel suite, ride in a limo to my sold out football stadium concert, only to put on the same overproduced show and not have to look one listener in the eye? Shoot! This Napster is terrible! Give me my money!

Do these people not see what is inherrently wrong in what they're doing? Sure, we'd all like to be rich, but how could you sleep on your South African silk sheets knowing that you made all that money by churning out an album of two radio-friendly songs and ten pieces of crap, then not releasing a single, so poor kids have to cough up the $15.99 just to take it home, burn those two songs, then sell it back for $3.00? No thanks. My soul is worth a little bit more than that.

On a very personal level, I've seen this corporate music machine instill bitterness in three people who are among music's greatest listeners, as far as I know. One is a indescribably sweet young woman, another is a walking all-music-guide with impeccable taste, and the last is a musician whose dreams sometimes outweigh his talent. Mainstream music and the industry attached to it try daily to ruin their beliefs in good music, and the belief that popularity and quality may actually be inversely proportional. I want to see it stopped before it hurts any more. But I'm not one of Them, and They control it all. So I'll just play my music for Us, and hopefully, for a moment, it can makes us forget all about them and their pointless games. And then when we have to go back and face Them again, maybe it won't seem so bad.

Hello everyone. How are you? Hey, let me tell you a story. Today as I was leaving work I was talking to a friend who is also a fellow employee (which is not uncommon, since the majority of the employees there are my friends), and I asked her if she worked tomorrow? No. Sunday? No. Well, then, I won't see you again until Feb. 16 (two weeks from today). Why, she asked? A number of replies flooded my head, ranging from jovial to brutal. In the end, I just went with the straightforward: "I'm not scheduled again until then." This is my manager's fraidy-cat way of firing me.

Maybe I would have cared a few months back. Like I said, most of the people working there are my friends, and could anything be better than working in music? But I guess my unwillingness -or even inability- to just smile and take it has gotten me into trouble again. My manager apparently likes to assert his superiority (and hence, his fledgling masculinity) by being an asshole when he doesn't get things his way, or feels as though his "authority" is being challenged. If I could only remain reticent, grin and bear it, then I wouldn't be in this position. But I don't take anything from anybody, and if you cross that line with me, I let you know. I let him. So, I lost this job.

A local musician has begun a drive to boycott MediaPlay - the company for which I work. Why, you ask? Because at another outlet he was denied permission to put his CD on consignment - for reasons rooted in prejudice. Of course, this artist wouldn't have the same problem putting his CD on consignment at my store; we're no longer putting local CDs on consignment. Furthermore, we've asked all the artists currently on consignment to come in and take their albums off the shelves. We have sunk to a new low. A low that I can't tolerate. My loyalties lie with the local musicians far more than with corporate america. Oh, and just to make things better, guess who's desicion it was to remove the local CDs? My manager. This guy is going to hell. I can't do this anymore. How can I work in a place who's sole purpose seems to be bent on eliminating the independent artist from the face of the earth? What they're doing is wrong. You know what? If you can, support the boycott as well. Support local and indy artists. We're the ones who need to fight against corporate america and against the detriment of modern music. Please help before its too late!

Ironically, my manager seems to be supporting my boycott of the store as well; not scheduling me for nearly two weeks.

Right now I see two types of people in the world. Us and Them. We live and love and think for ourselves. We are liberal, intelligent, compassionate, trustworthy, and unique. We are looked down upon by Them. They drive their SUVs to the mall to purchase attire that will make others approve of them. On the way there they hear the latest reincarnation of the same pop song that keeps cannibalizing itself, only with a different pretty face and rush to the local MediaPlay to purchase it on their parents credit card, using up a great deal of gas in their vehicle designed to seat eight, but currently only seating one. They arrive after narrowly escaping several accidents they could have caused and enter the store, all ready lost. Asking an employee for help, they are stunned to find that he hasn't heard the song, despite the fact that you can hear it on every station on the dial every three minutes. He is not one of them. He is to be distrusted. There must be something wrong with him. Come to think of it, he doesn't wear the right clothes, drive the right car, or think the right way. "Save the environment? Why? Then I won't be able to go four wheeling wherever I want. Support local shops? Why? Local shops don't have the things that everyone else at my school has. Don't call things gay? Why not? Everybody who is gay is to be hated, and everything you dislike is therefore gay. No, this isn't right at all. How can he not listen to the radio? How can he not care what they think of him?" He is not one of Them. He is one of Us.

They suck.

All right, so I'm listening to "I Am Shelby Lynne," by none other than... you guessed it... Shelby Lynne. You may find this CD on some of the Top Five Albums Of 2000 lists in the near future. So, I decided to take a free copy from work and listen to it. Interesting. Very nice flow, and the whole album has a kind of defining sound. It flows very well, but the instrumental color and texture don't seem to vary too much. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, and this album I think goes to prove that point. I don't think it would be right if one song in particular stood out on this album. It would ruin the whole thing. There's a lot of guitar - electric, acoustic, slide, pedal steel. Slight country feel sometimes. The opener "Your Lies," is killer - its got this great Phil Spector, reverb-crazy, sixties pop ballad feel to it. And they did the wall of sound thing right - being unafraid to allow the individual instruments to dissapear into the sound. Alot of strings. "Lookin' Up," sounds like it could have been written by Fiona Apple drinking Jack D and messing around with an old aco git. "Dream Some" is a pretty cool flute-infused lounger. But I've only listened to this once, and these are my first impressions. Cool CD. Amy and Bill particularly like this CD, and so I listened to it for them. This is what I think about it.

All right, I should get going now. I hope everything's going well for all of you. Now I'm going to go and lay in my bed for an hour with thoughts running through my head - daydreams until actual dreams take over. And then I'll get to wake up and find that neither type of dreams have come true. Goodnight.

Hi folks. I've owned my new guitar for twenty-four hours now. I love it so much! It will bring me much joy in the years to come.

All right, so February began today without much fanfare. But we are now one month closer to Spring, and that is one season from Summer! Valentine's Day is this month, and this will make it the third cosecutive year I've been alone. That sux. Oh well, I'll just play my guitar all day. At least this way I won't get yelled at for not having "something special" planned.

Album of the day: "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band." My favorite Beatles album, I think. It changes alot, but its been Sgt. Pepper's more than any other. I would really like to blog about it, but I would want to write for days on end about it. And you all probably don't want to hear all about Ringo's heavily gated cymbal crashes on the right stereo channel or the text of an 18th Century carnival poster, or the 15 kilocycle tone leading to the runout groove on the vinyl. So, I'll abstain today.

All right, well, I guess I'll talk to you all later.

Hello everyone. Sorry again that I haven't written in a while. Different reason this time. The last three times I've tried to blog it has just turned into one big pistoff diatribe about my manager. In the end I decided that I didn't need to share such negativity with the world, and deleted it and went to bed. So, may I present, my happy blog:

I bought a new guitar today. A Guild F4. Its sweet as hell. Its an acoustic/electric with a cutaway, sitka top, solid mahogany sides and neck, tortoiseshell pickguard, unlaminated rosewood fretboard, and an oval soundhole. Goddamn! Uh!!! Don't worry, you will all get to see it in action. I love it!

My friend Quinn is in town, and he and I have been hitting the town every day. What a lot of fun it is to have someone to go hang out with every day again! Now if it were only summer...

So, I would like to write more, but I have to get some sleep tonight instead of in class tomorrow. Talk to you all soon.