My Talented Friends Part Four

Most of you know that I joined a country band, The Hixters, last year.  Best. Decision. Ever.  It has brought nothing but fun and love into my life.  This post is not about the Hixters, but don't worry, I will be writing a lot more about us in the future.  This post is about a friend I met through the Hixters: the handsome, sweet, funny, and yes - talented - Justin Carter.

Justin has a voice.  Does he ever have a voice.  He has been a contestant on American Idol, Star Search, and X Factor, but this year he decided to do his own thing.  Best. Decision. Ever.  Here is the video for his song "Circles" which was released after Christmas...

I played the keys for Justin on Sunday during his performance for talent manager Mara Santino's birthday party at the W Hotel. 

{ Me and Justin at the Dub }

Now, I have always appreciated the W for sharing the lovely and talented Hollywood jazz maven Brenna Whitaker with this town every Sunday night (for free) and I don't want to bite the hand that feeds me, as it were, but wow.  The sound guys were awful to us! They had all the equipment to accommodate us, but insisted on giving us a hard time.  "We weren't told there would be performers."  "We weren't told there would be a keyboard."  I wanted to ask them if they refuse to use an umbrella when they were not told it would rain.  I wanted to follow that question with something akin to "Roll with the punches, people!  You're supposed to be professionals!"  However, I held my tongue because I recall hearing something once about getting more flies with honey than vinegar.  Sigh.

Justin, being what rock stars are made of, handled himself amazingly well and brought down the house.  

His next performance will be at the Viper Room on January 21st.  If you are in town, you want to be there!  You can follow him on Facebook here and subscribe to his YouTube channel here.

A Tom Waits Kind of Week

I am at the end.  At the end of a Tom Waits kind of week.

Today's Bedhead Theater offering is Mr. Wait's "Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis." It comes to you raw and after a 3am kind of night.  My beautiful friend Matt Tomas is helping out on piano, so this is Bedhead Theater's very first special guest!  Exciting developments, no?

I had intended this song to be a Christmas present for Matt and if you can look past the fact that it is a month late and Matt had to help me wrap it, I suppose it is.  Merry Christmas, Matt.

Top 5, All Time Favorite... or so

I just watched High Fidelity for the first time in a long time.  Ah, John Cusack.  No one does strung out better.

High Fidelity is all music and lists.  So many lists in that movie.  My favorite list (although not itemized and only a list of 3 instead of the movie's standard "Top 5 All Time Favorite" lists) is Jack Black's character's 3 band names at the end of the movie: Sonic Death Monkey, Kathleen Turner Overdrive, and Barry Jive and his Uptown 5.

My friend Patrick has a similar "problem" deciding on a band name.  In his last 3 shows he performed as Skinny P and the Destroyers; Skinny P and the Birthday Bash; and Skinny P and the Handicaps. (See My Talented Friends Part One.)

Band names are fun, but so darn hard to choose.  You want the name to reflect the music, but also the personality of the band members while making sure that it is memorable and of course, clever in some groupie-procuring way. 

Do you remember being asked how many kids you wanted when you yourself were a kid?  Your answer would be directly correlated to the number of baby names you thought were cool.  "I want 6... Peter, Parker, Posey, Punxsutawney, and Bob."  If I could start as many bands as I have cool names to name them, I would have 4 bands:

1. The Sister Karamazov
2. Fifths and Giggles
3. Color Me Wicked
4. Whole Notes from the Underground

Originally, I had 5, but the 5th was "Tequila Mockingbird" which I thought was so clever.  Yeah.  It turns out that there are bands, restaurants, bars, and design companies with the same name.  Not so clever after all.  Thanks a lot, Google.  I was feeling pretty good about myself today.

Santeria, Santeria, Santeria, let me go!

Yesterday's Bedhead Theater selection was brought to you by "a growing headache, a fading warmth, a sense of regret that should be stronger than it is, and a recurring apocalyptic dream."

Today's selection is brought to you by "OMG, I did karaoke last night for the second time in my life and it may have been a little too fun to not do again.  Who have I become?"  And if you're thinking that the title of this post means that I did Bohemian Rhapsody during the aforementioned karaoke night, you would be right.  I also did Santeria by Sublime.  It went a little somethin' like this:

Here's Something New

For my first post of 2012 I was going to list the things I learned in 2011.  However, despite all of the amazing experiences 2011 granted me, I could only think of one: I learned in the women's locker room at the YMCA that I fully support cosmetic surgery, specifically breast lifts.  Other than that, I'm drawing a blank.

So, instead of rehashing all the glory and pain that was 2011, I'm going to start something new.  Now, everyone knows it's not cool to make New Year's resolutions, so I'm not going to.  Because I am the coolest person you'll find.  For realz, yo!  Chickety check it.  (See?)

This is not a resolution, it's just something new: Bedhead Theater.  For those of you who have been reading my blog since the beginning, you know I love music, but have a discorded love/hate relationship with my own music.  I can go for days without even touching my keyboard.  In an effort to change that, I offer you Bedhead Theater. Every morning I will wake up, roll out of bed and immediately record myself singing and playing a song.  PJs and all.  No procrastination allowed.

I probably won't be sharing every video I make, but I will try to have 2 or 3 a week that are watchable enough to present to my esteemed readers.

Numero Uno: my slow morning spin on "Boston" by Augustana.

Artsy Fartsy

Here's an easy, contention-free question: what is art?  A few months ago I did a post on street art around LA.  I have thought a lot about public art in general and in particular, the Urban Light installation by Chris Burden at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA)...

...and "Bubble Gum Alley" in San Luis Obispo, CA.

The former is high art world approved; the latter may not be considered art at all.  Both installations consist of multiple every day, functional items: lamp posts and bubble gum (okay, and condoms). 

The light installation is beautiful - especially at night; however, I have often thought it a bit boring and safe when looked at as a piece of art.  This is why I thought it would be a good choice to juxtapose against Bubble Gum Alley.  My choice ended up being a bit ironic because it turns out that in his younger years, Chris Burden created some intense and controversial works.  In the 1970s he did a series focused on personal danger in which he was shot in the arm, nailed to a Volkswagen, and shimmied through broken glass with his hands held behind his back.

(Burden's next installation at LACMA is titled Metropolis ii.  It is a sculpture of a city with miniature cars racing through it at 240 miles an hour.   I got a peek at it a few weeks ago, but the last I heard it is still being installed.)

Bubble Gum Alley is not beautiful - I'm betting especially not so at night.  There is a lot of DNA on those walls.  Of course, one can't discuss DNA in art without bringing up photographer Andres Serrano, a controversial, but established artist that uses blood, urine, and semen in his work.  If he can do it, so can all the teenagers in San Louis Obispo.

Bubble Gum Alley is gross, but it's a collective work that has impact.

Urban Light is pretty.  And what's wrong with pretty?

One is made for the public; the other by the public.

Brother Sal & The Devil May Care

This is perhaps the most delayed post of all the delayed posts in all the blogs in all the world.  I first saw Brother Sal & The Devil May Care weeks ago.  I jaunted down to the Piano Bar one Sunday night in October to find Mr. Brother and his blues-meets-country band delivering their "warehouse gospel" to the many delighted souls crammed into the bar. 

I knew immediately that I wanted to tell the world (or, you know, the two of you that read this blog) about my new discovery: Brother Sal, the ivory-tinkling, husky-voiced troubadour from Virginia.  However, as the two of you know, I did not.  I have gone to see Brother Sal again since that night in October I still did not write about it. 

Here's the problem: I just get too damn busy having a good time. Too busy reveling in the melodies and effect of the songs to pay attention to the titles and specific content so I can accurately detail them here. Too busy dancing to adjust my camera settings, so I end up with blurred pictures like these:

{ The ghost-like figure on the right is Michael Starr, an amazing fiddler.  His fiddling deserves its own post. }

Brother Sal has a gift.  A gift in which my ears and my bootie delight.  However, as with all gifts, it comes with a curse.  Well, a curse on this blog anyway.  His gift disarms and distracts until I am left with only memories of good times and warm impressions of the experience.  I suppose as the South did to the North, I will have to cede to the old adage, "Details be damned."  That is an old adage, right?

So, there you have it.  A half-assed review of a full-assed band.  Full and round and firm. As all good asses should be.  I'm speaking metaphorically, of course.

http://www.facebook.com/thebrothersal1
http://thebrothersal.com/

P.S. Brother Sal performs every Saturday and Sunday night at the Piano Bar.

P.P.S. I still need suggestions for my Drunk v. Sober comparative!  So far I have LACMA, reading, writing, and running.