It All Starts Here

Kyra's trek toward stardom commenced Wednesday afternoon at her school talent show. I don't know how she felt, but I was ready to puke for the both of us. I wanted to ask her if she was nervous before we went on, but thought twice about it because I didn't want to make her nervous. This is the same girl who was shy about performing in front of ten people at her birthday party. Now she was performing in the school multipurpose room in front of the entire school. The place was packed from wall to wall to wall with kids, teachers, and parents. I just wanted her to have a great experience and I tried in vain to push all the negative imagery out of my head.

Please don't let her freeze up.

Please don't let me forget the chords.

Please let me quit worrying about whether or not my fly is down.

We performed third (thank God), so my worrying was short-lived. They announced Kyra and we took the stage to generous applause. As soon as I came out from behind the curtain with guitar in hand, the applause died. Holy crap! What does that mean? Kyra grabbed her microphone and waited patiently until I got situated. Then we went for it.



I could just be a proud papa talking smack, but she nailed it. She was poised, confident, and sang out strong...and with hand motions, too! Hell, I wish I would have had her confidence when I was seven. I'd like to say that I can take some of the credit, but I can't. The only thing I really did was practice with her and let her do what she wanted to do. We're all so proud of you, Kyra!

I guess this means that I'll at least have one yearly gig from here on out, possibly two if we can get Kailey up on the stage. Now my only struggle will be to wean them off of Hannah Montana and onto Death Cab for Cutie. I don't see that happening any time soon.

The Joy of Sax

Here are the girls channeling their inner David Sanborn, laying down what they believe to be some smooth jazz licks.



In reality, it's a bit more like the mating call of the Canada Goose.

A Swell Season Indeed

Well, adult night out did not disappoint in the least as Diane and I thoroughly enjoyed the opening leg of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's Swell Season tour at the beautiful Orpheum Theater in downtown Phoenix. The event transcended the mere concert experience. It was more of a celebration of Glen and Marketa's achievements through the movie Once, with a thousand of their closest friends in attendance. The movie has had such a profound impact upon so many people, and this concert setting was the perfect opportunity for audiences to give back to it's two main characters. The energy in the theater was unlike anything I have experienced in a concert setting before. Glen set the intimate tone by coming out solo to the very front of the stage, sans microphone, and performing Say It To Me Now, recalling his gut-wrenching street performance from the movie which starts in a long shot and slowly zooms in to the song's conclusion. The theater was deathly quiet, taking in every moment of Glen's performance until he paused to ask, "Am I doin' OK?" The place exploded.



Marketa then joined him up front, to thunderous applause, for one more unplugged song before they retreated to their microphones. They were joined by three members of Glen's band, The Frames, on bass, electric guitar and violin, and the music they produced was amazing. The rest of the evening played out like a VH1 Storytellers episode with Glen telling long and often hilarious stories of many of the song's origins and fielding questions and comments from the audience. Some of his more interesting stories included leaving his worn Takamine guitar with a complete stranger for repair, standing in a grave he bought for his goth girlfriend's birthday to impress her, and lying drunk and freezing in a field in the middle of the night. It's amazing what life experiences will inspire good music.



Calexico opened the show and were amazing as well, performing as a duo with Joey Burns on vocals/guitar and John Covertino on drums. The concert was just what the doctor ordered. Our lives have been so hectic lately that it was good to have a little road trip to enjoy time with each other, great music, and some much needed laughs.

Please forgive my crappy photos. My PowerShot A530 didn't like being zoomed in in a darkened theater from 19 rows back.

A Little Adult Time

Tomorrow Diane and I are going to take a little midweek respite from the organized chaos that is our lives to enjoy a little one-on-one adult time. It's OK. You can think dirty here. I can't wait, and not just for the dirty part either. We're heading up to Phoenix to see Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, of Once fame, on their The Swell Season concert tour at the Orpheum Theater tomorrow night. Once was one of those movies that stuck with me for days, and I found myself constantly humming or singing Falling Slowly, this year's Academy Award winning song. When I found out they were coming in concert, I jumped at the chance to get tickets. I'm stoked.

We're going to spend the night in Phoenix, sans children, and after the concert the sky's the limit. Perhaps we'll go out and have a few drinks, do a little salsa dancing, sing some karaoke, and generally party 'till the cows come home. Yeah right. In reality, we'll check into our hotel room and fall asleep watching Leno. We're becoming old souls in our not-so-old age. Oh well, at least we're getting away.

Enjoy the clip!

She's Got the Bug

"We've got to practice my song because the talent show auditions are next week!" It was Monday night and Kyra was in a mild panic. And that mild panic was about to transform into major panic.

"No, Sweetie, talent show auditions are this week. They're Wednesday afternoon."

Cue the breakdown. Fortunately, the two of us had already worked on a song for Kyra's birthday, so we already had a tune in the can. Meltdown averted. As you can probably tell, Kyra is our passionate performer. It's one thing to do karaoke in your family room, but quite another to get up the nerve to take your act to the next level: performing before your peers. I was proud of her drive and initiative, so we practiced. I told her that I could record the guitar track for her audition, but she looked at me with a pouty face and said, "But I want you to play for me." Remember all that crap I wrote about being the "co-keeper of the dream"? Time to put up or shut up.

Auditions were yesterday after school. I worked the morning shift, which allowed me to attend, but meant that I had been up since 3:30 in the morning. I'm not using it as an excuse...I'm just saying. I arrived at school to pick up the girls, and Kailey led us to the classroom where the auditions were being held. It was packed full of kids and a few parents. I didn't see any other parents lugging around guitars. I was hoping there would be a sheet posted with audition times, but no such luck. We would have to wait around until Kyra's name was called, and that could be a very long time. Fortunately, they sent all the kids who were playing instruments to another room to audition. We stuck around to watch a few of the acts...two girls with a gymnastics routine, two older boys cracking each other up with terrible jokes (What's the difference between a teacher and a train? The teacher says 'don't chew gum', but the train says 'choo, choo, choo'!), and two girls singing a duet...before someone noticed my guitar and sent us to audition with the instrumentalists, even though Kyra was singing. I didn't complain though. We probably cut our wait time down from an hour to ten minutes.

We arrived in the music room which was considerably less crowded with only about fifteen students waiting to audition. Much better. We listened to four auditions, all of which brought back memories as students played clarinet, flute, and saxophone arrangements of the very same tunes I learned at that age. Then the teacher turned to us. "And we have a guitar here?" she asked. Sharp as a tack, that one.

"Yeah, I'll be accompanying my daughter today."

"Great! And what song are you going to be singing today, Kyra?"

"I Miss You."

And with that, we were off. Kyra, did a fantastic job. She wasn't singing as loud or performing as animated as she had practiced, but that was understandable. This was her first audition, she was singing to a room full of strangers, and, oh yeah, she's seven. I watched her as I played, and my heart overflowed as she worked her way confidently through the song. I saw flashes of fame and fortune in her future, and it all started right here.

Then came the key change. Now I don't know if I was too focused on Kyra, too focused on my visions of grandeur, or if I was just plain tired, but I blanked...I couldn't remember the chords in the key change. I could feel the panic building from within, so I just stopped playing and collected myself for a moment. In the meantime, I thought Kyra's eyes were going to take over her head. I regained my bearings, gave her a cue in, and we finished the song to a modest applause, visions of grandeur blown to smithereens. Who knows, maybe I'm subconsciously trying to sabotage my daughter's music career.

I packed up my guitar and as we walked out to the car, Kyra, channeling her inner diva, stopped me. "Daddy," she deadpanned, "If we get picked, you're really going to have to practice."

She's so ready for Hollywood.

The House is Alive with the Sound of "Music"

My mom bought the girls their very first "real" guitars for Christmas, a couple of Fender Starcasters. They're gorgeous little guitars and I think I was about as excited as the girls were. Kyra probably would have been more excited to get a Hannah Montana guitar, but I was glad that my mom didn't go that route and buy her a total piece of crap for her first guitar. It wasn't too much later on that Christmas morning that the three of us assembled in the den for their first "lesson", the girls nearly bursting with excitement as visions of stardom danced in their heads. Those visions quickly evaporated as I wrestled with their inexperienced fingers to help them each form a "D" chord, where they realized that playing the guitar is a painful experience in the beginning.

"It hurts my fingers," Kyra complained.

"I know, Sweetie. Those are steel strings and they're going to hurt your fingers for awhile until you build up some callouses on your finger tips."

I finally get their fingers to stay where they need to, or close to it, and give them the green light to strum away. Pldit, pldit, pldit...not the prettiest sound in the world, but they don't care. They're making music. We "play" for nearly a half-hour until their fingers are totally raw and call it a day. We've had several lessons since then where the primary goal is to play a little bit more to build those callouses.



As a parent, I feel like one of my duties is to recognize the natural talents, dreams and passions of my girls and then to equip and encourage them to develop the skills necessary to see them come to fruition. Not in a psycho Lynn Spears kind of way, where I see the talent of my children as my meal ticket to a better life, but in a much more subtle way, where the girls are happy and fulfilled by the pursuit of their passions. If learning and playing the guitar helps in that regard, great. If not, well we gave it a shot.

My mom recognized my musical talents at an early age and did what she could to encourage their development. She tried to get me to audition for choirs and musicals and even offered to pay for piano lessons. But in my mind, I was a jock, and even though I secretly longed to be on stage and in the spotlight, I was terrified of the abuse I would get from my friends for partaking in such "sissy" activities. I politely declined her offers and to this day, my biggest regret in life has been not taking her up on those piano lessons.



Kailey and Kyra have inherited some of those natural musical talents, so I take up the mantle where my mom left off. Kyra is a natural and driven performer. She actually scares me a little bit because I think she would like nothing better than being the next Hannah Montana. Seriously. She is constantly singing karaoke and performing in the family room. It's her favorite thing to do. She could spend hours a day perfecting her craft and be perfectly happy.

Kailey lacks Kyra's drive, but is probably a little more naturally talented. Kailey could be a fantastic music writer someday. I am amazed by the emotional complexity of the songs she comes up with right off the top of her head. While many kids her age might sing about horses and rainbows, Kailey sings about things like being left out at school or just wanting to be loved. These aren't things that she personally experiences (at least I hope not), but that she's witnessed and that has impacted her enough to permeate her songs. When she's improving a song, Kailey sounds much, much older. One of my favorite things to do is to grab my guitar, play a chord progression, and have her sing an original song. Her stuff is good. Really good. Tempting-to-rip-off-and-claim-as-mine good. But I haven't...I'm not that desperate...yet.



So we'll start off with guitars and callouses and "D" chords, and we'll see where that leads us.

Just a Case of Pre-Concert Jitters

The past month has been all-Hannah, all the time. Hannah Montana for Halloween, Hannah Montana in concert, and now Hannah Montana...the birthday party. Kyra turns 7 this weekend, and yes, she has chosen Hannah Montana as the theme for her party, which we'll be having at the house, complete with a guitar piñata (I just want you to know...it took me at least ten frickin' minutes to figure out how to put that frickin' tilde over that frickin' "n"). Let me just say that in this season of thanks, I will be thankful to give Hannah Montana a rest for a good, long time.

A few weeks back Kyra decided that for her birthday party she would like to perform a Hannah Montana song. And she wanted me to accompany her on guitar. Does it sound to you like I have an ambitious Miley Cyrus-like performer in the making? Hey, if she can make us some Miley-like money, I say go for it! I'll even pay for the future therapy! After a thorough review of Miley's latest CD, Kyra selected I Miss You, a song about losing a loved one. And she wanted to dedicate it to her great grandpa who passed away just before Christmas last year. I love it when her sweet side shines through.

So I had a song to learn. I went online to try to find lyrics and a chord chart for the song. The chord charts I found were complete crap and I sometimes wonder if the doofuses uploading them are listening to the same song. Like the saying goes, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. So I did. Since then I've listened to the song a million times just to get the tune down and to practice with Kyra.

Tonight we practiced without the CD for the first time, and I think Kyra was a little shocked, like walking the tight rope without the safety net. We ran through it a couple of times and when we were done, Kyra looked depressed. "My voice doesn't sound right," she pouted.

I laughed. "Yeah, your voice sounds a little different when Miley's not singing along, huh?"

"It sounds all...scratchy."

In reality, it sounded fine...like a soon-to-be 7 year-old singing a Miley Cyrus song. I think she's just getting a little anxious about her performance and I'm beginning to see signs of perfectionism sprouting in my youngest daughter. Hmmm...I wonder where she gets that from.

Post Concert Wrap Up

Concert posters were made, paraphernalia was purchased in mass quantities, hearing was lost, voices were screamed and sung hoarse, and a good time was had by all at the Jonas Brothers/Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus concert at Jobing.com arena in Glendale. I knew the girls would love it, but was genuinely surprised when Diane reported that it was a really good concert. Who knew? A pictorial review:



Hannah did indeed rock. Both of the girls made posters to display during the concert. I forgot to ask them if they were able to take them into the arena.



As official Hannah Montana fan club members, Kailey & Kyra had an opportunity to win raffle tickets for an official tour of Miley's party bus. They arrived too late to participate.



The Jonas Brothers were the opening act. I didn't hear too much about these guys...



...but this is a shot of Kailey during their set. Look at her eyes, all glossed over and dreamy-looking. I was surprised she didn't come home with a Jonas Brothers poster for the wall of her room. She did, however, choose the hot pink Jonas Brothers T-shirt over Hannah Montana.

The girls called me at work during the intermission, and they were hyped. It made me sad to miss that experience with them. Kailey kept going on about how loud it was in the arena. "The Jonas Brothers came out, and all the girls were screaming at the top of their lungs," she gushed. "I had to cover my ears!" OK, now I was less sad to miss the experience of ten thousand girls screaming at the top of their lungs.

"I could feel my heart beating in my chest!" Kyra reported, trying to explain the feeling of bass pulses reverberating inside her chest. I laughed, knowing exactly what she was talking about, and then felt sad again.



(Revision: I thought I'd better add a little more about The Jonas Brothers since I've been receiving about a million hits from a JB fan site. I polled the girls and they said that the Jonas Brothers were "awesome". Cool? Oh, and here's another JB pic for your enjoyment.)



Hannah/Miley's stage set up.



Miley did a couple of different sets, first as Hannah Montana followed by a set as herself. After all, she's going to need to establish her own identity as an artist. She can't be Hannah Montana when she's 30. Right?



She also had about 350 costume changes, because you just simply can't wear the same outfit for two hours.



Kyra singing along and having the time of her life. And who's freaky stalker-looking dude in the background? Mind yer own BEESwax, dude! I'll have to edit him out of the picture.



Here Miley's doing what I think is a solo acoustic set, if I remember the report correctly, which further impressed Diane. The concert wasn't a simply choreographed lip-synch show. Miley is a very talented young lady.



Here the girls are pulling Grammy away from the Beer, Wine & Spirits stand...again! Kidding. I just think this is a hilarious backdrop for a "family" photo.



They spent the night in Chandler and finished off their trip with, what else, a little shopping! They made it home safe and sound Saturday night, and I'm glad to have them back. By the way, I had the house to myself on Friday night and didn't do ONE load of laundry.

Just My Luck

Last week I came across an opportunity to win concert tickets to a Guster/Toad the Wet Sprocket concert in Costa Mesa, CA. Where Costa Mesa was, I had no idea. I figured it was probably located within the mass of humanity surrounding Los Angeles, roughly an eight hour drive from Tucson. The concert is next Wednesday night, July 25th. I have to work that day. And Thursday. The likelihood of me being able to attend the concert was close to nil. Since I've never won a single thing in my life, I figured what the hey, and threw my name into the proverbial "hat".

I like Guster, but I'm a big Toad fan. It's weird, I enjoyed their radio hits in mid/late 90's, but it's only been in the last couple of years that I discovered their full repertoire. And since that time, I always find myself coming back to Toad. I have a million songs on my Zune, and I'm constantly downloading new artists and listening to new music, expanding my musical horizons, but Toad has become a sort of "comfort food" for me. I don't know why. There's nothing flashy about them. They are just a solid pop/rock band. Last summer they began touring as a band again, and I kept a tight watch on their tour schedule to see if they would be making any stops in Arizona. They didn't. The closest they came was California. So I guess I went a little out of my mind when they were offering a contest for free tickets. Though the cards were stacked against my being able to go to the concert, I entered anyway.

I won.

SCORE!!

Awwwww CRAP!!

Yesterday I received an e-mail confirming that I was the contest winner. So now I'm trying to figure out if I can finagle my way to Costa Mesa for a couple of days next week to see one of my favorite bands in concert. Stay tuned.

King of Pain

"What song do you want to hear?" Diane asked as she sat down on the bleachers. She just got off work and joined me to watch Kailey's softball practice. I gave her a puzzled look, so she clarified. "Debbie's going to the Police concert tonight and she wants to know what song you want to hear. She's going to call us when they play it." I immediately began to feel sorry for myself. Here I was watching a bunch of 8 year-olds trying in vain to catch a softball while my sister-in-law was on the verge of seeing one of the greatest bands of all time in concert. Sure, I could catch them in concert when they come to Phoenix a week from Monday, but I don't have $225 for a ticket, let alone $450 for two. Someone please pity me, or send cash.

My answer was immediate: King of Pain. I love that song. It could be my theme song because, as the Battered Ham, it may very well be my destiny to be the King of Pain. Is anyone coming to my pity party? If so, bring cash. Debbie called a little while later and I told her my song of choice. "I want to hear that one too!" she cried. She was way too excited, but who could blame her? She also offered to buy me a T-shirt, which was very cool of her. Life was getting better.

So we finished watching Kailey's practice, went home, fixed a little dinner, chucked the girls in the tub, and got them to bed. By the time we finished the nightly routine, it was already a quarter to ten. And all the while I waited for the phone to ring. Diane and I crashed in front of the TV and decompressed. At 10:30 the phone rang. The caller ID verified that this was the call I had been waiting for. I pressed the "Hands Free" button on the receiver and we were met with a wall of sound, mostly screaming people. The screaming eventually subsided and we could clearly hear Sting's vocals along with Andy's guitar riffs. But I never heard a drum beat or a bass line. It didn't matter. It was still awesome.

As we were listening, Debbie shouted into the phone, "This is their second encore!" They followed King of Pain with So Lonely, from their first album, then left the stage. Or so I heard. Several times during the second and third encore, Debbie and her friends would engage in a discussion on whether or not we were still listening. "Are they still there? I don't know. I think they're still there! Are you guys still there?" Like they could even hear us if we answered in the affirmative.

The arena went nuts when The Police began their third encore with Every Breath You Take and they ended the concert with Next to You, also from their first album. I think Diane was getting tired of listening to the garbled music through the speakerphone, but I didn't care. I know it's pathetic, but I just couldn't bring myself to hang up on The Police. They finished their song and Sting gave his last, "thanksforcominggodblessyougoodnight!" and Debbie confirmed the end of the concert with, "That's it". We talked for a couple of minutes and I thanked her for letting us listen in as well as for the T-shirt. Then we hung up and our vicarious Police experience through my sister-in-law's cell phone was over. The silence was deafening.

Tomorrow morning I'm dragging my guitar downtown, setting up shop on a street corner, and raising a little concert money. For now, enjoy The Police live from Vancouver.

Use It or Lose It

All my life I've had a tendency to take the more difficult route in learning life's lessons: pull-ups on the clothes bar in your closet is not a good idea; flipping someone off in front of your history teacher will draw you a little time in detention; stealing the lids to the brand new garbage cans in order to play Knights of the Round Table will get you chased down by your mother; and peeing directly into the wind...well, you get the idea. Granted, these are all examples from my childhood and early adolescence, but trust me when I say that the process has followed me into my adult life. I've heard my most recent life lesson expressed thousands of times, but for me, lessons just never seem to sink in and take hold until I experience them first hand. And the lesson is this: use it or lose it.

Last week, a friend of mine informed me of the American Idol Songwriting Contest and invited me to submit a song. I guess another lesson I should learn is always see what you're up against before agreeing to do something. Since I was feeling cocky over completing my first song in three years, I took on the challenge. That was a week ago, Tuesday. The next day, a thought occurred to me: I wonder when the contest deadline is? I looked it up and my jaw dropped: April 17th, tax day. I had one week. Game over. Not gonna happen. I was already in the process of putting in twenty hours of overtime at work, and my taxes still weren't done. How in the world would I write and record a song in seven days?

Although the cards seemed to be stacked against me, I decided not to pack it in. I mean, I still had seven days, right? Actually, six. I spent Wednesday getting our taxes done. At some point, I don't remember exactly when, a concept came to mind that I thought I could run with, and I spent the next several days jotting down ideas and experimenting with rhyme schemes. I also pulled out my guitar and played around with several chord progressions until I settled on one I liked. After filling several pages with my scribbles, I finally sat down Monday morning to organize to my thoughts. I worked for about an hour and made significant progress, but that was the only free time I had. I entered Tuesday the 17th, deadline day, with an incomplete song.

I figured I had maybe two hours on Tuesday to finish, then record a demo of the song. HA! I pulled my Fostex MR-8 digital multitracker, and it's user manual, out of the drawer that housed it for the past year, and blew off the dust. Kyra was excited because she likes to put on the headphones and sing into the microphone while I accompany her on guitar. To her, this was playtime. To me, it was time to get everything set up so that when I took her to school, I could get down to business. We played for about an hour, taking turns singing songs. I love playing the guitar and having the girls make up tunes and lyrics on the fly. More often than not, they come up with some good stuff. I've been tempted to use some of it, giving them credit, of course.

I took Kyra to school, then went to work. I pulled out my guitar to lay down the guitar track to my demo. Remember, I didn't have a finished song yet. I thought I'd lay down the accompaniment track and then fashion the lyrics and melody to fit. After about ten false starts, I finally laid down an acceptable track. It was only a demo, after all, and I had already given in to the idea that whatever I presented was not going to be perfect. I just didn't have the time and I was OK with that. I recued the track to listen to it, but there was nothing there. Silence. What the crap! I forwarded through the track and found the beginning, roughly a minute in. Since I hadn't used the recorder in such a long time, I forgot to recue it after all of those false starts. Oh well, at least it was there.

I turned my attention to the lyrics, and after massaging them for close to an hour, I came to something I could live with (by American Idol standards, anyway). I then began to rehearse them with the guitar track I recorded earlier. This was the first time that I would attempt to sing the song in my full, head voice. As I was writing the song, I would rehearse it in a light falsetto that was usually audible only to myself. As soon as I sang the first verse, I knew I was in trouble: the key I had written the song in was too high for me to sing comfortably. Crrrrrrrrap! It wasn't always this way. I used to be able to sing up in the rafters with little or no problem, but since I haven't really used my voice consistently over the past few years, I've gotten a little rusty. OK, a LOT rusty. Life lesson? If you don't use it, you lose it. I got it.

Normally, I would say "No problem" and just transpose the song into a lower key, but I couldn't do that because my guitar is jacked up. It buzzes when I play certain chords, which is the reason I wrote the song in the key of E...no buzzing. So I was stuck. I also realized that the song was too long. If I was going to gut out the song in the key of E, I was going to have to shorten it, which meant re-recording the guitar track. What the CRAP!!

By this time, Diane was home from work and the girls were home from school. My "two hour project" was stretching to four hours and beyond. I recorded the guitar track over, this time with only a couple of restarts and recues, and then moved on to my vocals. I figured I'd give it one run through and be done with it, but I screwed up the first verse. I hit the "Undo" button which was only supposed to delete my vocals, but it also erased the intro of the guitar part. MOTHER PUS-BUCKET!! WHAAAAT THE CRAAAAAAP!! I was furious. It was late afternoon, I had been working on this song for most of the day and had nothing to show for it. I'd had enough and was ready to pack it in.

"Don't quit," Diane admonished. She assured me that she would keep the girls busy and gave me the green light to finish the job, so I returned to my makeshift recording studio. I laid down the guitar track AGAIN and quickly moved to the vocals. I practiced them a couple of times to warm up my voice and to ensure no screw ups, then hit "Record". I got through the first verse fine, but began to struggle at the end of the 1st chorus. Verse 2 was OK, but I was outright hurting by the end of the chorus. I mustered all of my strength to get through the bridge, but by the final chorus, I was flat out croaking the melody. It wasn't pretty. "It's a demo. It's a demo. It's a demo," I kept telling myself as I finished the song. Only later did it occur to me that I could have recorded the vocals in sections, taking a breather to rest my voice. But I wanted it done, and I got it done.

I walked into the kitchen where Diane and the girls sat at the table, grinning. Kyra had her hands over her ears, Kailey mimicked me singing, and Diane asked me if I was OK, all of them basically busting my balls. "It's not pretty, but I'm done," I replied. Not really. It took me another couple of hours to read the manual, then go through the long and tedious process of converting the tracks to a stereo .WAV file, uploading the .WAV file to my computer, converting the .WAV file to an .MP3 file, and submitting it to the Idol contest. But I eventually got it done and I was exhausted. And even though I got it done, it felt like I had wasted the day.

Lesson learned? Use it or lose it. If I used my multitracker more often, I'd know the ins and outs and not have to rely so heavily on the user's manual.

Use it or lose it. If I sang more regularly, I'd maintain some of my range. Granted, getting older will suck some of that range from me, but still.

Use it or lose it. If I'd write more regularly, I might have had a song already in the can that I could have tweaked/submitted instead of killing myself to write and record a whole new song.

Use it or lose it. Lesson learned? Probably not.

Did My Taxes AND Wrote a Song

Taxes and the American Idol song were due today. I neglected my children and nearly killed myself trying to complete both of them, but I did, neither particularly well. I just hope I sent the right stuff to the right people. I don't think the IRS would be particularly pleased if I sent them a song instead of cold, hard cash.



Abbott & Costello - The Tax Return

Shoulda Done My Taxes, But I Wrote a Song Instead

One of the reasons I started blogging was to give myself a regular outlet for writing. For several years now, I've had a monstrous pile of mental crapola that has been blocking my ability to write music. As a musician, that really sucks. The pressure has been mounting as the dry spell extended over three years, my notebooks filled with broken appendages of lyrics and chord progressions that I just couldn't bring myself to finish. I needed to break that spell, and blogging is one exercise I've been using to "write" myself out of my songwriting funk. Truth is, I really haven't worked that hard to break through; I haven't "made" myself finish a song, allowing it to be what it is. If I get to a point where I'm stuck or don't like where the song is heading, or if the song doesn't seem like it's bound to be a Top 40 hit, I abandon it and move on. I've revisited my creations on and off over the years, made some revisions, but no completions. Until this morning.

I should have worked on my taxes. Kailey was at school and Diane and Kyra left early to go to the zoo for Kyra's kindergarten field trip, so I had the house to myself. I had several hours to get a great start on our taxes, but seeing as how I have the gift of procrastination, I decided to pull out my guitar and diddle around instead. I played for a few minutes, messing around in E minor. It's always E minor these days. If I ever actually get around to recording a CD, I'm going to title it "Songs in Em". Suddenly and unexpectedly, my muse began to speak. I don't have a problem getting my muse to speak, it's just getting a complete thought out of her that sucks. I grabbed my notebook and began to write, the first verse seeming to flow from my pen.

"That's pretty good," commented my muse as she began to float away.

"Get back here and help me finish this thing!" I growled as I grabbed her by the throat.

"Hey, take it easy, Bub!" She likes to call me Bub. "You're strangling your muse!" I apologized for being so rough and explained to her my need to finish the song. She agreed, so we worked on it for a couple of hours until I was satisfied that it was a good stopping point. Like me, my muse is global and easily distracted, and she tried to flit away a couple of times, but I stuck to my guns and kept corraling her and urging her to keep working with me.

The song isn't truly finished. It still needs some tweaks here and there, but it's the most complete song I've written in a long time and I'm relieved. I put a lot of work into it and forced myself to keep at it, which I haven't been able (or willing) to do in quite a while. It's not going to be a Top 40 hit, and I'm OK with that. But I will finish it and I will record a demo of it. And hopefully this will open the door to more songs.

Now I've got to finish my frickin' taxes.

Is There Something Wrong Here?

Last night, after an afternoon of running errands followed by dinner out, we rushed home to see The Police open the 49th Grammy Awards. We made it by a minute, having enough time to get in the door, turn on the TV, and surf to the right channel before hearing Sting declare, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are the Police and we are back!" Insert chills here. They sounded amazing, but I was disappointed when they left the stage after performing Roxanne. I wanted more.

I settled in and Diane gave the girls their baths, graciously allowing me to absorb the show. Thanks, hon, you're the best! She took Kailey away first, leaving Kyra and I to watch The Dixie Chicks perform Not Ready to Make Nice. Joan Baez introduced them by saying something to the effect of "some people tell artists to shut up and sing". This struck a chord with Kyra. After the performance she asked me, "Why are people telling them to shut up and sing?" I offered what I thought to be a lame answer, but it seemed to make sense to her, so for the rest of the evening the Dixie Chicks became known as the "girls who were told to shut up and sing."

Kailey came in after her bath and Kyra took her turn in the tub as I gave Kailey her pajamas and dried her hair. Kyra returned a short while later because she wanted to see Shakira and Wyclef Jean perform Hips Don't Lie. SAY WHAT!?! Don't ask me where my six year-old learned this song...I barely even know it. But that's what she wanted to watch.

We were just about ready to send the girls to bed when Shakira came on. And I don't know what's worse: the fact that Kyra knows the song, or that we LET her watch the performance. Shakira comes on the stage in a long gold skirt and a matching, um, top, for lack of a better word, and her infamous midriff bared for all the world to see. The song begins and Shakira does her thing, shaking it all over the stage. Then the backup dancers show up and they're shaking it all over the stage too. There's a whole lotta shakin' goin' on. However, the backup dancers, I noticed, were not allowed to show their midriffs...only Shakira. I think that's #1 in Shakira's Ten Commandments: Thou shalt have no other midriffs before mine, sayeth Shakira.

It makes sense...thar's pow'r in them thar hips!! Hypnotic power mixed with a little morse code. It goes like this: shake, shake, shake...you are getting very sleepy...shake, shake, shake...you are now under my command...shake, shake, shake...you will buy all of my CD's, DVD's, concert tickets, t-shirts, posters, and bumper stickers...shake, shake, shake...now when I slap my butt...shake, shake, shake...you will wake up, go to your computer and empty your checking accounts, savings accounts, and load up all your credit cards at my website...

SLAP!! Thank goodness that slap was from my wife, up the side of my head. I guess I was drooling. She saved me from the hypnotic trance of Shakira's hips. Thanks, hon, you're the best! And to think that we subjected our precious little girls to this. Not to mention the fact that I taped it and allowed Kyra to watch it THREE MORE TIMES this morning. What is wrong with me? I blame it on the trance.

Accessories Can't Come Zune Enough

I'm enjoying my Zune, but there's no way this thing is going to be an iPod killer anytime soon (I'm done with the puns, I promise).

Two weekends ago I finally updated my computer's Operating System and got my Zune up and running. I then spent the next few days loading it up and reviewing potential accessories online. I do most of my music-listening in the car, so I was specifically interested in a car adaptor. I went back to the Zune website and quickly found what I was looking for: a Zune car pack with an FM transmitter. Price: $80. Basically you tune your car radio to an unused channel, then tune the FM transmitter that's plugged into your Zune to the same frequency, and vua...vou...vwall...ta-daa, you're in business.

In theory. I had questions about how well the thing worked, so I didn't order it right away. I also had a couple of Best Buy gift cards, so I ventured into their local store to check it out. After all, Best Buy had the Zune accessories on their website. Why wouldn't they have them in their stores?

Well, they didn't. Nada. Zippo. Zilch. Not a good way to kill the iPod. I don't know why Best Buy wouldn't stock Zune accessories and their associates didn't seem to know either. Shocker. They simply didn't have them and were surprised when I told them their website did. However, what they did have in excess were iPod accessories...rows and rows of iPod stuff. Death is in the pot! Not!

I decided to check out an iPod, since I had never really looked at one, and compare it to the Zune. As soon as I picked up the iPod I questioned my decision to keep the Zune. The iPod is thinner, lighter, and sleeker than the Zune. And the flywheel on the iPod is simply amazing, making navigation through the music library a breeze. I nearly turned around and went right home to pack up the Zune. Unfortunately I have too much vested in it already.

The three things the Zune has going for it are the larger screen (great picture, but possibly contributing to its bulkiness), a sexier looking interface, and a built-in FM tuner. The feature that Microsoft is touting the most is its wireless file-sharing capabilities, which may prove to be significant in the future, but for now seems to be fairly lame. I haven't used the feature yet, but apparently there are only a limited amount of songs that can be shared, and shared songs can only be listened to a limited amount of times. So overall it seems pretty...limited.

But after spending $100 on a system upgrade and ripping at least 100 CD's, I decided to keep my Zune. I flagged down an associate and asked him how well the FM transmitters performed in general. He told me that he had one and it worked great. Good enough. I thanked him and returned home to order the transmitter through Best Buy's website, using my Best Buy gift cards. That was last Tuesday. Last time I checked the UPS tracking info (ummm, roughly 2 seconds ago), my transmitter was still in Denver. It's been in Denver for three days, which is not a Microsoft issue, but still! Dude, I just want to listen to my Zune in the car!

I do like my Zune. It's much cooler than any player I've ever owned and it puts my other mp3 players to shame. But, come on Microsoft. An iPod killer? Get real. It's not designed as well as an iPod, you can't buy songs as easily as you can with an iPod (I didn't even touch on that one), and I can't even buy a Zune accessory at a major national retailer. And when I do order it online, it takes over a week to get here? These people need to get their shact together. An iPod killer? So far, the Zune doesn't even leave a scratch.

Guitar Quest

My guitar is dying and I'm sad. Well, it's not really dying...it's just very sick. My Takamine G-334 was a birthday present from my family nearly fifteen years ago, and though it's probably considered a mid to low-end guitar, it has considerable sentimental value to me. It was my first real guitar and is my baby.

For about the past year there's been a noticeable string buzz when I play. I could see that a couple of the frets were worn and figured it would need a partial re-fret job. Since I haven't performed publicly in several years, I just ignored the buzz as I dinked around at home. I would just reposition my fingers so that the buzz would disappear. This past summer I recognized a definate itch to write and perform again, so I called around to different music stores for quotes on a partial re-fret.

After finding an acceptable quote, I took my baby in for surgery only to find out the damage was much more extensive. Upon inspection, the luthier discovered a bow in the neck of my guitar near the headstock. He told me he could repair it, but that it would be nearly three times the original price. I was speechless. The repair price was not much less than the original price of the guitar. I told him I'd think about it.

Well, I've thought about it, and I think it's time to step up to the next level. My Tak has served me well, but I think I'd rather use the money toward a new guitar. Please don't hate me, baby! I'm not getting rid of you...I'm just adding to the family! I've been going to a couple of music stores in the area and playing different guitars to get an idea of what I want. So far here are the finalists.

This is the Breedlove AD25/SR Plus. It is the dark-horse surprise of the finalists. I picked this little beauty up at Guitar Center and was amazed by its deep full tone and beautiful low-end. I love the sleek look of it as well, except for the gold hardware (even though my Tak has gold hardware). It is the least expensive of the finalists.

Next up is the Taylor 310ce. I've been eyeing Taylor guitars for years now and this is my nostalgic pick. It is beautifully crafted, sounds great (although a little thin on the low-end for my taste...I love a big, deep, rich low-end), and I know it will sound fantastic when plugged in. This is the frontrunner.

And finally, the Gibson Songwriter Deluxe Cutaway. It's fricking expensive. It costs twice as much as the Breedlove. It's busy. There's a lot going on with this guitar with the fancy pick guard, the curled saddle, the gold hardware, and the pearl inlays on the frets. But when I see artists playing this guitar, it looks pretty freakin' cool. Also, it sounds amazing with great low-end.

Hopefully, I'll be able to make a purchase in the next couple of months. I'm still a little bummed about the current condition of my Takamine, but excited about the prospect of buying a new high-end guitar. And who knows, maybe someday I'll restore my baby.