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I love it when you can clearly see that someone has put a lot of work into a bit on TV.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Montague Bookmill a Recap
Folks, I never wrote here about our show last weekend. I got a cold this week and pretty much didn't do much of anything much. Too much "much"? Woah, "much" is a weird looking word. Much. Looks German.
Words were a big part of Saturday's show at The Montague Bookmill. Not only were we surrounded by books but we ran a custom Madlib, which by the way, turned out hilariously.
I began the evening with a nice egg sandwich at the Lady Killigrew. Lesa, Brian, Tony and I sat out there pre-show and enjoyed the deliciousness of the food and the hint of autumn in the September air.
Later, when we had moved all the chairs and tables and we had set up our instruments, Linda Draper took the stage and put on a real nice intimate performance. She traveled to the venue by bus and cab and finger-picked her way through a set of nice tunes. I think she made a few fans.
Although we brought a P.A. up for this gig, we opted at the last minute not to use it. My acoustic guitar and voice set the volume and because the guys in this band are so awesome they were able to keep it all at a good level. Max couldn't make it to the show so we were Tony, Brian, Ken and I. Ken played keyboards so we were bassless, but it was great to have him fill in all the in between Madlib breaks with songs about words. The show was loose and casual and it just felt really crazy and fun to me. Not having a cord or a microphone allows me to move around wherever. We stumbled our way through a request for Sunday Morning by the Velvet Underground with help from audience members on vocals and with Brian taking the lead. We also asked the audience for a style to play "Back To School" in. Somehow it became a funk version. Half-way through I couldn't take it anymore, realizing that if I were me, I would hate the band I was hearing. We cut it out and slipped back into the right groove.
I felt like the show was a huge success. There weren't a lot of people there but I think everyone enjoyed themselves. I'd love to play more of these nice long, quiet, and responsive shows. Our next gig, of course, will be quite the opposite. October 9 at Pearl Street, we're playing with Jill Sobule and Fountains of Wayne. Our set will be short, loud, energetic, and the audience will be large. Hey, man, we're easy.
Words were a big part of Saturday's show at The Montague Bookmill. Not only were we surrounded by books but we ran a custom Madlib, which by the way, turned out hilariously.
I began the evening with a nice egg sandwich at the Lady Killigrew. Lesa, Brian, Tony and I sat out there pre-show and enjoyed the deliciousness of the food and the hint of autumn in the September air.
Later, when we had moved all the chairs and tables and we had set up our instruments, Linda Draper took the stage and put on a real nice intimate performance. She traveled to the venue by bus and cab and finger-picked her way through a set of nice tunes. I think she made a few fans.
Although we brought a P.A. up for this gig, we opted at the last minute not to use it. My acoustic guitar and voice set the volume and because the guys in this band are so awesome they were able to keep it all at a good level. Max couldn't make it to the show so we were Tony, Brian, Ken and I. Ken played keyboards so we were bassless, but it was great to have him fill in all the in between Madlib breaks with songs about words. The show was loose and casual and it just felt really crazy and fun to me. Not having a cord or a microphone allows me to move around wherever. We stumbled our way through a request for Sunday Morning by the Velvet Underground with help from audience members on vocals and with Brian taking the lead. We also asked the audience for a style to play "Back To School" in. Somehow it became a funk version. Half-way through I couldn't take it anymore, realizing that if I were me, I would hate the band I was hearing. We cut it out and slipped back into the right groove.
I felt like the show was a huge success. There weren't a lot of people there but I think everyone enjoyed themselves. I'd love to play more of these nice long, quiet, and responsive shows. Our next gig, of course, will be quite the opposite. October 9 at Pearl Street, we're playing with Jill Sobule and Fountains of Wayne. Our set will be short, loud, energetic, and the audience will be large. Hey, man, we're easy.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Thug lyrics
Why I did this, I don't know. When I did this, I don't recall. But here are some revised lyrics to Henning's song "Thug." My alterations are in italics.
Suzie's still woozy from the helicopter flight
Pilot knew where to land cause she's a searchlight
And she's got a notion that something isn't right
When the neighbors shut their shutters and the kids stayed out of sight
She's going down to the beach from her bungalow
She is surrounded by snowmen sailing 'round her soul
Suzy's still choosy and it's sometimes absurd
How she forgets to get the fruit the general preferred
A farmboy wagers he can tame a ladybird
She says put up your dukes, those letters sound like a word
She's gonna drown in that wave if she doesn't run
Seagulls swoop down, kissing scarecrows and skeletons
Suzy says a doozy's our ten foot tall mayor
All of a sudden she vanishes into the air
She says she doesn't have any respect for that street
It's a miniature sun but you can still feel the heat from it
She's looking down at the town from her secret place
Wishing to be found floating round, spinning into space
Suzie's still woozy from the helicopter flight
Pilot knew where to land cause she's a searchlight
And she's got a notion that something isn't right
When the neighbors shut their shutters and the kids stayed out of sight
She's going down to the beach from her bungalow
She is surrounded by snowmen sailing 'round her soul
Suzy's still choosy and it's sometimes absurd
How she forgets to get the fruit the general preferred
A farmboy wagers he can tame a ladybird
She says put up your dukes, those letters sound like a word
She's gonna drown in that wave if she doesn't run
Seagulls swoop down, kissing scarecrows and skeletons
Suzy says a doozy's our ten foot tall mayor
All of a sudden she vanishes into the air
She says she doesn't have any respect for that street
It's a miniature sun but you can still feel the heat from it
She's looking down at the town from her secret place
Wishing to be found floating round, spinning into space
Monday, September 13, 2010
We Need Your Requests. Here's Ours: Come to this Show.
Here's a picture from the last Rub Wrongways Caravan of Stars Show at The Montague Bookmill. While reading our crowd-fueled Madlib, we invited some friends form the audience up to play with us. You can see Brian Akey from Winterpills, for instance, there on guitar.
The Montague Bookmill shows are always kind of special. On this upcoming Saturday, School for the Dead is playing a concert there. Opener is Linda Draper, the show starts at 8:00 PM, but come early for the Nutella sandwiches.
This show is a particularly unusual and special show, not only because any Bookmill show automatically becomes a special memorable night, the book-lined room and the sound of the water-fall out the window make sure of that. Will some of the leaves have gone autumn by then? It's likely.
But this is also an extra special show because we have an unusual line-up planned.
Max is unable to attend, and the room is very quiet, so we have a different arrangement in store.
Henning Ohlenbusch on acoustic guitar and vocals
Brian Marchese on brushed drums and vocals
Tony Westcott on electric guitar and vocals
Ken Maiuri on keyboards and vocals
We're hoping for a loungey, intimate concert.
Of course, we'll have other distractions and surprises, I'm sure. You can count on a crowd-fueled MadLib.
Bonus: We'd love to honor any requests. Please if you have any, leave a comment.
Hope you can make it.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wild Horses
Last week, Lesa and I went on a little vacation down the Eastern Seaboard. We ended up at Ocean City, MD for a week. We had a hotel room with a balcony that overlooked the pedestrian boardwalk and the beach and the Atlantic Ocean. The hotel was nothing special but the location was pretty amazing. At night, with the sliding door open, the crashing sounds of the strong open-ocean waves filled the room. In the mornings, strange orange and blue lights from the sunrise woke us up. We saw only one or two clouds for most of our stay there and it was in the low 90's daily. Upper 60's at night.
Ocean City is kind of a creepy place. We spent a lot of hours just strolling along the boardwalk and streets past surf shops and candy stores. There are a crazy amount of all-you-can-eat restaurants there. I'm not a big fan. I generally have all I can eat at any restaurant, I don't need to push the envelope. Gross, I just thought of my stomach as an envelope. Gross.
We went to one of these places and it was pretty unpleasant to be surrounded by people with their already-enormous envelopes cramming more fried fish into them. Gross.
Being in Ocean City felt quite a bit like a trip back to the early 1980's. We played a few rounds of miniature golf and checked out a few Jolly Roger amusement parks. Everything felt like it was thirty years old and kind of chintzy. But the beach was beautiful and the people watching was fulfilling.
On one night, right in the middle of our stay, we had also reserved a camp site at Assiteague Island State Park. Have you heard of Assiteague Island? How about Chincoteague Island? If you are a female in the U.S. there's a good chance that you read or owned the book "Misty of Chincoteague" by Marguerite Henry. These two islands are only a half hour drive away from our hotel but they are a world away.
You see, on these islands, there are wild horses.
Before we left on our trip we bought a nice new little tent. It had been quite some time since I camped out and it was even longer for Lesa. Neither of us are terribly experienced campers, though we both did it quite a bit with our families when we were kids.
I had reserved a corner site (you can pick from a map on the website) with nothing but a small dune between us and the beach. As luck would have it the people who were supposed to be right next to us on the inside, never showed up, so we were pretty secluded. When we arrived at the ranger station, they warned us that there was a mother, father, and foal in our area and we should try to stay away from them. Apparently some people had been bitten by the foal. I glanced at a bulletin board on the wall and saw a series of snapshots of large bites hanging there. Great, was this like that warning that you get in the beginning of every horror movie? If only the ranger had been a crazy wrinkle old man instead of a very kindly ranger woman.
We found our site and figured out how to set up the tent in the unrelenting ninety degree sun. Sure enough the little horse family was sniffing around eating dune grass. We kept our distance.
When we had eaten and the sun had gone down and our fire had burned out, we strolled out onto the beach. It had been years since I was on a beach at night. I'd forgotten how good the cool sand feels on your feet. There was a fairly impressive display of stars considering how close we were to the excesses of Ocean City (looking up the beach and beyond the water you could just see the golden glow from the boardwalk ferris wheel). I spotted a shooting star that streaked out across the ocean. The water was black and was only visible when it bubbled up and crashed on the shore in white lines that raced along the sand's edge. It was pretty good. The world felt big and real.
But we saw no horses on the beach. Really, we were there to see horses. Earlier we had seen a bunch of them along the little camp road and trotting past people's campers. We also saw some deer and on our way back to the tent from the beach we saw a nice big ghost crab skitter sideways across our path.
The evening was quite warm so we opened the flaps on both sides of our tiny tent to let the sea breeze drift through the nylon screens. Sleeping didn't come easily. The sand in the camp site was packed down and hard and we forgot to bring pillows. But while lying there I could look out and see the newly risen moon shine down on the hazily glowing sand, the dark dunes beyond it, and the stars above. I could hear the waves as I scanned through the dark for signs of movement. I could barely make out some shapes, the picnic table, our closed beach umbrella, the small white tag on one of our folding chairs.
Eventually, we fell asleep. We must have, because we both suddenly woke up when a horse's whinny shattered the silence. We both bolted upright. There was a wild horse, in the dark, very close to us, and we wanted to see it. We leaned towards the screen and followed the sound of grass being chewed and saw the dark shadowy shape of two horses about twenty feet away. It was a strange feeling to be there, on the ground, watching these animals though the dark. It seemed as though they didn't know we were there. They probably did, horse-sense and all that.
We watched them peacefully, but with a bit of adrenalin, and Lesa leaned a little further and saw that not far behind them there were six more horses standing there too. Suddenly the peaceful feeling started to change. Having eight horses in the dark so close to our tiny tent made us feel a little vulnerable. You feel pretty helpless in a tent.
Then something spooked the horses and they all started freaking out. We both moved to the center of the tented, scared to breathe and watched as horses suddenly stampeded past us on both sides. The largest whooshed by just inches from the tent stake. Were we about to be trampled? Did they know we were there? What do we do?
The horses calmed down quickly and I watched as one last large one walked past my side of the tent blocking out the moon with its dark hulking silhouette.
Lesa and I looked at each other in the dark our hearts beating fast in fear. "What kind of dream is this?" I thought.
The horses had disappeared from sight but we could still hear them munching on the grass from the dark dunes a little ways away. How on earth could we possibly fall back asleep when feeling that vulnerable out there? The answer is that we couldn't. We unzipped the tent and stepped out into the quiet moonlight and scanned the area for large animals. There were none very close, so we very quietly dismantled the tent and packed up the car and snuck out through the narrow State Park roads. Insects by the gazillions swept passed our headlights like summer snow along the way.
When we had crossed over the bridge that connected us to the mainland, we started to breathe easier and I flipped on the radio half expecting to hear Mick Jagger singing about how wild horses couldn't drag him away. We felt a little bit like quitters on the ride back but we figured we had really gotten everything and them some that we were going to get out of the Assiteague experience. I recommend it. I'd go back.
Ocean City is kind of a creepy place. We spent a lot of hours just strolling along the boardwalk and streets past surf shops and candy stores. There are a crazy amount of all-you-can-eat restaurants there. I'm not a big fan. I generally have all I can eat at any restaurant, I don't need to push the envelope. Gross, I just thought of my stomach as an envelope. Gross.
We went to one of these places and it was pretty unpleasant to be surrounded by people with their already-enormous envelopes cramming more fried fish into them. Gross.
Being in Ocean City felt quite a bit like a trip back to the early 1980's. We played a few rounds of miniature golf and checked out a few Jolly Roger amusement parks. Everything felt like it was thirty years old and kind of chintzy. But the beach was beautiful and the people watching was fulfilling.
On one night, right in the middle of our stay, we had also reserved a camp site at Assiteague Island State Park. Have you heard of Assiteague Island? How about Chincoteague Island? If you are a female in the U.S. there's a good chance that you read or owned the book "Misty of Chincoteague" by Marguerite Henry. These two islands are only a half hour drive away from our hotel but they are a world away.
You see, on these islands, there are wild horses.
Before we left on our trip we bought a nice new little tent. It had been quite some time since I camped out and it was even longer for Lesa. Neither of us are terribly experienced campers, though we both did it quite a bit with our families when we were kids.
I had reserved a corner site (you can pick from a map on the website) with nothing but a small dune between us and the beach. As luck would have it the people who were supposed to be right next to us on the inside, never showed up, so we were pretty secluded. When we arrived at the ranger station, they warned us that there was a mother, father, and foal in our area and we should try to stay away from them. Apparently some people had been bitten by the foal. I glanced at a bulletin board on the wall and saw a series of snapshots of large bites hanging there. Great, was this like that warning that you get in the beginning of every horror movie? If only the ranger had been a crazy wrinkle old man instead of a very kindly ranger woman.
We found our site and figured out how to set up the tent in the unrelenting ninety degree sun. Sure enough the little horse family was sniffing around eating dune grass. We kept our distance.
When we had eaten and the sun had gone down and our fire had burned out, we strolled out onto the beach. It had been years since I was on a beach at night. I'd forgotten how good the cool sand feels on your feet. There was a fairly impressive display of stars considering how close we were to the excesses of Ocean City (looking up the beach and beyond the water you could just see the golden glow from the boardwalk ferris wheel). I spotted a shooting star that streaked out across the ocean. The water was black and was only visible when it bubbled up and crashed on the shore in white lines that raced along the sand's edge. It was pretty good. The world felt big and real.
But we saw no horses on the beach. Really, we were there to see horses. Earlier we had seen a bunch of them along the little camp road and trotting past people's campers. We also saw some deer and on our way back to the tent from the beach we saw a nice big ghost crab skitter sideways across our path.
The evening was quite warm so we opened the flaps on both sides of our tiny tent to let the sea breeze drift through the nylon screens. Sleeping didn't come easily. The sand in the camp site was packed down and hard and we forgot to bring pillows. But while lying there I could look out and see the newly risen moon shine down on the hazily glowing sand, the dark dunes beyond it, and the stars above. I could hear the waves as I scanned through the dark for signs of movement. I could barely make out some shapes, the picnic table, our closed beach umbrella, the small white tag on one of our folding chairs.
Eventually, we fell asleep. We must have, because we both suddenly woke up when a horse's whinny shattered the silence. We both bolted upright. There was a wild horse, in the dark, very close to us, and we wanted to see it. We leaned towards the screen and followed the sound of grass being chewed and saw the dark shadowy shape of two horses about twenty feet away. It was a strange feeling to be there, on the ground, watching these animals though the dark. It seemed as though they didn't know we were there. They probably did, horse-sense and all that.
We watched them peacefully, but with a bit of adrenalin, and Lesa leaned a little further and saw that not far behind them there were six more horses standing there too. Suddenly the peaceful feeling started to change. Having eight horses in the dark so close to our tiny tent made us feel a little vulnerable. You feel pretty helpless in a tent.
Then something spooked the horses and they all started freaking out. We both moved to the center of the tented, scared to breathe and watched as horses suddenly stampeded past us on both sides. The largest whooshed by just inches from the tent stake. Were we about to be trampled? Did they know we were there? What do we do?
The horses calmed down quickly and I watched as one last large one walked past my side of the tent blocking out the moon with its dark hulking silhouette.
Lesa and I looked at each other in the dark our hearts beating fast in fear. "What kind of dream is this?" I thought.
The horses had disappeared from sight but we could still hear them munching on the grass from the dark dunes a little ways away. How on earth could we possibly fall back asleep when feeling that vulnerable out there? The answer is that we couldn't. We unzipped the tent and stepped out into the quiet moonlight and scanned the area for large animals. There were none very close, so we very quietly dismantled the tent and packed up the car and snuck out through the narrow State Park roads. Insects by the gazillions swept passed our headlights like summer snow along the way.
When we had crossed over the bridge that connected us to the mainland, we started to breathe easier and I flipped on the radio half expecting to hear Mick Jagger singing about how wild horses couldn't drag him away. We felt a little bit like quitters on the ride back but we figured we had really gotten everything and them some that we were going to get out of the Assiteague experience. I recommend it. I'd go back.
Online piece
A piece I wrote on creativity is featured on learningdiversity.org at the moment. Have a look if you get the chance and are interested:
learningdiversity
learningdiversity
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Back To School Season
Hello there. I think I have just been away from the Living Rockumentary for the longest period since it's inception 4943 posts ago. Luckily, Tony, stepped in with a few updates.
Things have been a bit slow and disjointed this summer what with trips out of town and some big construction projects at home. But now it's back to school season and that also means it's back to School for the Dead season. We've got a bunch of new shows lined up and it's time to really get serious about recording a new album.
Here's a quick mention of upcoming concerts. Details, of course, will follow.
Things have been a bit slow and disjointed this summer what with trips out of town and some big construction projects at home. But now it's back to school season and that also means it's back to School for the Dead season. We've got a bunch of new shows lined up and it's time to really get serious about recording a new album.
Here's a quick mention of upcoming concerts. Details, of course, will follow.
Saturday, September 18:
School for the Dead and Linda Draper at The Montague Bookmill
Saturday, October 9:
School for the Dead, Fountains of Wayne, and Jill Sobule at Pearl Street
Saturday, October 30:
(Day Time) School for the Dead and other in a children friendly Halloween party
(Night Time) School for the Dead, The Fawns, Paper Piano, and more at The Basement for Halloween Party 2010
Sunday, October 31:
School for the Dead's second annual concert at the Florence, MA Halloween Parade
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
McVeganland characters
Back during the Umass days (1989-1993), my friend Steve and I were dining at the Basics vegetarian cafeteria (the dining commons closest to my dorm, hence, the one where I dined most frequently) and we came up with a list of characters to replace the McDonaldland characters we had grown up with in the '70s.
Here are the originals & our replacements:
Hamburglar = Oatburglar
Mayor McCheese = Senator Seitan
Officer Big Mac = Officer Soy Boy
Fry Guys = Falafel Fellas
McNugget Buddies = Polenta Pals
Grimace = Hummus
And someday, after I've written dozens of albums' worth of famous pop songs, like Andy Partridge, I will share with the world the basic home-recorded demo versions of these songs. I've already got a list of titles for the seven volumes of demos:
Vol. 1: The Democratic Process
Vol. 2: Demolition Derby
Vol. 3: Demoralized
Vol. 4: Inner Demos
Vol. 5: Demontia
Vol. 6: Songs For Mademoiselles
Vol. 7: Songs Made Mo' Better Later
Here are the originals & our replacements:
Hamburglar = Oatburglar
Mayor McCheese = Senator Seitan
Officer Big Mac = Officer Soy Boy
Fry Guys = Falafel Fellas
McNugget Buddies = Polenta Pals
Grimace = Hummus
And someday, after I've written dozens of albums' worth of famous pop songs, like Andy Partridge, I will share with the world the basic home-recorded demo versions of these songs. I've already got a list of titles for the seven volumes of demos:
Vol. 1: The Democratic Process
Vol. 2: Demolition Derby
Vol. 3: Demoralized
Vol. 4: Inner Demos
Vol. 5: Demontia
Vol. 6: Songs For Mademoiselles
Vol. 7: Songs Made Mo' Better Later
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