Ah, The Power of Photoshop

Thanks Dumbass!

So my buddy Jay and I played the other night at a smallish bar here in town to a crowd of about 20 or so drunks and buffoons. After our riveting performance of the Luna version of "Sweet Child Of Mine", some dude walks up and asks if he can sing and play "Patience" by G&R. Now let me say one thing first. NOTHING is more annoying to a musician than a complete stranger who asks if he can take over your gig. It actually happens more than you think and it amazes me how some people consider a stage with real musicians as their own personal karaoke showcase. Not only did this guy want to sing - he actually wanted us to exit the stage area and let him perform solo. I actually let someone do this a long time ago and he dropped my guitar, putting a crack in the wood. So now, I make it a policy of allowing no one access to my instrument unless it's a friend or relative or someone that I ask to sit in.

Anyway, after politely telling him no and relating the dropped guitar story, he kept on. "Dude, I won't drop your guitar. I've got a hundred dollar bill in my wallet that you can hold onto while I play in case anything happens to it." Yeah, well, I paid $500 for the guitar but thanks anyway. He then began sharing his credentials with us - that he had lived in Nashville, he sang with Shelby Lynne, blah blah blah. So finally, I told him he could sing the song with our accompaniment. Once we launched into it, this guy started gripping the microphone the way Paris Hilton grips a stiffy. And he didn't so much sing into the mic as much as he made love to it, even keeping his eyes closed (thank God I had him sing into Jay's mic and not mine). But I noticed he was channeling Axl Rose with a heavy country twang that made it even doubly annoying. Finally and mercifully, the song ended.

But the story doesn't end there. Before we could play another note, he was hollering for us to "play some cawntry!" and began launching into a series of classic country songs a capella. I tried explaining to him that I had sung these songs a thousand times in another band but he wouldn't shut up. After he began singing "Folsom Prison Blues" at the top of his lungs, we relented by playing "I Got Stripes" by Johnny Cash. Although not one of Cash's best known songs, it was featured in the movie Walk The Line. As we played it, he stared blankly at us like he had never heard the song before. Whatever - we played the damn country song and took a break. Before we could make it to our seats, this guy was at us again trying to let him sing some "cawntry". He then walked up to some folks at the bar and started singing more a capella cawntry classics at the top of his lungs, seemingly trying to get the fellow patrons to join him on his crusade of terror. He finally approached me and said he'd give me a hundred dollars if I let him play and sing ONE song. I looked at Jay with disbelief and then back at the buffoon. "Okay". What can I say? I'm a complete whore. However, once he handed me the bill, he started trying to guilt trip me. "Dude, I can't believe a fellow musician would actually take the money." Then you don't really know many musicians, do you dipshit?

So we walked up there, I handed him my guitar and went back to my seat. When I looked up, I noticed that he was holding the guitar against his body without using the strap. I walked back up there and asked him what he was doing. "I don't usually use these strap things," he said. Then how the fuck do you hold the guitar up while you play? I guess he could see in my eyes that this was unacceptable, so he started to put the strap on BACKWARDS ever the wrong shoulder. I was dumbfounded that this self-described Nashville Star honestly didn't know how to strap on a guitar correctly. Unbelievable. He then began playing a series of random chords and started singing the opening verse to "Dixieland Delight", albeit to the wrong chords. Needless to say, it sounded horrible. He attempted to sing several other songs to no avail. Finally, he started singing something else that was utterly unrecognizable at first. I soon realized the song he was butchering was "Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Joonya. To his credit, I gotta give him creativity points for choosing the most bizarre chord progression imaginable for such a simple song. I walked up to the bar and Kyle, the manager, yelled "What is this shit?!? Get this fucker off - now!"

So we dragged him away and thus ended the musical odyssey of the idiot Nashville Star wannabe. I split the money with Jay, since he had to suffer through it just as much as I did.

Ashamed to be Caucasian, 3-D

Last night I got dragged to a new bar here in town called "Twist & Shout". This place is one of those "dueling piano" type establishments that I tend to dread going to. And sure enough, my dread was warranted. What you get at this place is two overweight dorky white guys (don't say it) playing and singing the lowest common denominator of tame classic pop songs for an audience of drunk caucasians. Watching a bunch of tools wearing shorts and flip-flops singing aloud to 'Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay' and 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia' is not my idea of entertainment. These performers were as soul-less as their scrotums are ball-less. I felt like I was watching a Don "No Soul" Simmons concert. So if you're ever in the 'ham, don't waste your time at this place.

Rediscovering Floyd

Of the many things I remember about the spring of '88- dating my first psycho, graduating high school, losing my virginity on the floor of a fucking bath tub with the shower water raining on us- one that sticks out that was seemingly cool at the time was the introduction of Classic Rock 99.5 in the Birmingham market. I remember thinking how cool it was to be able to hear Zeppelin, The Who, The Doors, etc. on the radio instead of Top 40 crap. What I didn't realize, however, was that they'd stick to the same core playlist for 20 fucking years! They literally have a list of about 1000 songs by the same 200 artists that they play over and over, something akin to Chinese water torture. Why didn't I just change the station, you might ask? Well, the other options were simply worse, and this was before CD's and mp3's. Because of this, I got sick of several of these artists before I had a chance to really delve into their material.

One of these such artists was Pink Floyd. Being forced to listen to Money, Comfortably Numb, Another Brick In The Wall Part 2 and Wish You Were Here several million times would do it to anyone. Despite my friends Andrew and David totally immersing themselves into this band, I just thought they were weird (Them: "Oh come on man, 'Bike' is genius! 'The Final Cut' is brilliant!" Me: Zzzzzzzzzz). Since then and expecially lately, however, I've started to listen again with a little more intensity. And while I still can't grasp Animals or The Final Cut or the Syd Barrett era, I think most of their stuff is breathtaking, especially The Dark Side Of The Moon. The songs and the sound make for a perfect marriage of futuristic yet artistic clutter and organic beauty. It really is one of the greatest albums of all time. I also think Wish You Were Here and The Wall are inspired as well in their songwriting and storytelling. Why am I writing all of this? I dunno. Slow Day I guess. Peace out.

This Oge Bidness

Once again, the Oge has gotten bored with being inconspicuous and decided to carry out an armed robbery with some of his pals. Why can't this guy do us all a favor and move to an island somewhere to live the rest of his miserable existance? Because he's an attention whore, even if it means flirting with the law. He can't stand being an irrelevant bystander on the sidelines. He's gotta be the man. I hope he goes away for a looooooong time (unfortunately, we won't get that lucky). Don't bend over for the soap, Juice.

Trifecta

With Bama's exciting yet heart attack inducing victory last night, it completed a trifecta which constitutes the ultimate day in college football - an Auburn loss, a Tennessee loss and a Tide victory. Things may not be back to normal quite yet (that comes when the clock strikes :00 on November 24th) but they sure are looking up. It's just all part of the process, aight?

Jorts. Why?

You've seen 'em. You've chuckled to yourself at people who wear them (unless, of course, you're one of the poor bastards who wear them). Jorts, aka denim shorts, have made a comeback this summer by tools everywhere. Like those who sport mullets, jorts wearers are part of an exclusive club whose members are seemingly unaware that the rest of the country looks upon them with disdain and ridicule. And why is it that only those with the whitest legs wear them? This is just one of those things that never cease to amaze me. Stand up and be proud jorts people!

Desperation

MTV has announced a new reality show- "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila". Tila Tequila is a bisexual MySpace phenomenon and on the show she'll be choosing from among both male and female suitors. Just what the hell is the world coming to anyway? Do they not think that parents will be outraged and stage a smear campaign against the network? This thing will be yanked after one episode. MTV's ratings have been plummeting for years, and this move screams of desperation.

MTV has become a joke. During their heyday, you could turn it on at any given time and see a number of cheesy, low budget videos that were brilliant in their primitiveness. Remember Greg Kihn's "Jeopardy"? Who can forget "Mexican Radio" by Wall of Voodoo, Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" or bouffanted Wally Palmar's lisp in "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics? Hell, even the Stones's best videos were the cheap-ass ones from Tattoo You. And one of the greatest videos of all time? Why Van Halen's "Jump" of course, which infamously cost $1000 to make. When video budgets got bigger, so did the level of boredom and rubbishness - an interesting correlation indeed. That's also around the time that videos began disappearing from the network, making way for crappy game and reality shows like the one mentioned above. Put yourselves and the rest of us out of our misery and just shut it down already.

Go Team Win!

Alright, I haven't posted in awhile. My mind has been consumed with football lately and I figured you people are tired of hearing about it. Sometimes I wish I had never been turned onto sports- it's caused more stress and frustration than joy. But no, from the time I was able to use my legs I had to be running around the yard wearing a #12 Bama jersey carrying a football. I used to actually play whole football games by myself in the front yard. I'm sure people passing by would say "Oh, that's nice" when they saw a 5 year-old kid passing the ball and tackling himself.

Between the Tide and the Braves, it's been a constant roller coaster of emotions for over thirty damn years. For every Van Tiffin and Francisco Cabrera, there've been lots of Jeff Dunns and Dan Kolbs. Would I trade it all to be a USC and Yankees fan? Hell no.