Return of the Creature

Oh boy. The coyotes are back. They're howling that ghastly howl off in the distance, and it's bouncing off all the houses in the canyon, making a creepy echo. What a terrible noise.

Sounds like they just accomplished a juicy kill. Probably somebody's sweet little poodle.

Why do coyotes even exist? Diabolical creatures. And I had only recently managed to forget them.

DC Games

After another luxurious day relaxing at the Hyatt, we jumped in the van to make our wonderfully late 4pm call time. We showed up to an empty stadium.

After a quick reunion with our buddies the Jonas Brothers and band, we popped up on stage for the most disastrous sound check we've ever had.

The setup went well. How hard can it be to plug stuff in?


But once we started getting levels, it was your basic 72-car freeway pileup. Nobody could hear anything. I, for example, was missing the left side of one of my keboards, my vocal, the click, and Miley's vocal. Not good.

And Vish, our regular dependable sound guy, was at the mercy of the Master of Incompentence - otherwise known as "the guy Disney supplied." The Master had confused the mixing console with Whack-A-Mole, as he randomly slapped buttons and knobs hoping for some sort of accidental miracle.

Halfway through this total catastrophe, in poured the Miley fans. Tons of 'em.

Perfect.

Full of enthusiasm, they didn't seem to notice our perplexed faces, as we struggled through one roughly-mixed song after another. Eventually we got our mixes to a place that wasn't awful, which seemed about the best we could hope for.

So it was off to dinner in the food tent. While we were eating, the weather did an about-face.

The sky began pelting the crowd with the largest raindrops I've seen in ages. Grape-like droplets. I could feel them explode as they hit me. I was fully soaked in ten seconds.

But the crowd was loyal. They weren't about to go home just because of some soggy clothes. Not when they were waiting to see Miley Cyrus, and the Jonas Brothers, and the Cheetah Girls, and...whoever else was playing.

In typical fashion for these sorts of things, we were then shepherded to a room far away, where we then filled out our paperwork and sat around for several hours.

Then we got the word. We were going on early. After all that waiting, now we had to rush. We threw on our costumes and jumped on golf carts, which whisked us over to the stage. We grabbed our gear and hurried up to the wings. One of the show runners saw us and said, "What are you guys doing here? You're not on for a while. The Cheetah Girls are on before you."

But we didn't have enough time to go back. So we just hung out in everybody's way, in the wings.

Miley sauntered up about fifteen minutes later, and we had an impromptu singing jam session on the side of the stage.

We all took our places. The dancers came out in their big long tailcoats. We rocked the place out with "See You Again," and two new songs: "Fly on the Wall" and "Breakout." The crowd totally ate up the new stuff. And of course, everybody loved "See You Again," which has become quite a huge crossover hit with Disney fans and on mainstream rock radio.

That was it. Funny how these things are 98% waiting and 2%playing.

Pop Goes the Comfort Level

After two days of rehearsals in L.A., we flew to Florida for two more days of rehearsal. That's just the way we roll.

We were booked to stay at Disney's Pop Century Resort. The band and dancers were all speculating as to what type of hotel it was. "What kind of theme could Pop Century" be? Pop music? Pop culture? Popcorn?" We couldn't figure it out.

Once we got there, it became a little clearer. The decor was a mishmash of eras, colors, and random pop culture. Each building represented a different decade.

Here's the 70's building:

Apparently the Rubik's Cube was the only important developement in that era.

And the 80's building:

Is "Totally Awesome" an 80's phrase? I still use it. But I'm no gauge of cool.

After the receptionists took several years checking us in (I have no idea what took so long), I was informed that my building was all the way at the other end of the resort. This was basically the equivalent of staying in the next town. They told me to "follow the path past the giant 8-track, past the life-size Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, and around the computer pool." What is a "computer pool" you ask? See for yourself:

Exactly as described

When I finally reached my room much later, I was surprised by what I found. This was basically a motel. "Resort" is a relative term, I guess. The bed was harder that the "glorified floor" in Seattle. The walls were paper-thin, so I could hear screaming children on all sides. I was afraid of the shower.

At dinner with the band, we all compared notes on how ghetto the hotel/motel was. Everyone agreed that we were depressed about going back and sleeping there.

Stacy placed a call to our tour manager, Omar, who felt exactly the same as we did. So Omar placed a call to some higher-ups, and said we had to be moved.

No answer yet as to our fate.

We still stayed there that night (convinced that we were being nibbled by bed bugs), and the next morning we showed up stiff and groggy at rehearsal.

After we finally snapped out of our Pop Century comas, we ran down the entire show, then there was a little family jam:

That's lil' Braison Cyrus on drums. And Miley gets better at the guitar every time we see her. Jaco taught her a few new chords.

Which she learned in, like, three seconds. Smarty.

Rehearsal ended fairly early, and we were notified that we would be moving to the Hyatt Cypress Garden. There was much rejoicing. Yaaay.

The difference between Pop Century and the Hyatt couldn't have been more polar. At Pop Century, there was nothing to do. Literally nothing. And there was only one restaurant, which was basically a cafeteria stocked with fried foods. The Hyatt, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. It had the biggest pool I've ever seen, which surrounded several man-made caves, waterslides, and a massive lake with kayaking and paddle boats. I went kayaking several times. I do love me some kayaking. There was also a full golf course and many restaurants featuring everything from bar food to sushi. Paradise. I have no pictures of the Hyatt, cause I was far too busy having a wonderful time to whip out the camera.

With a big chunk of spare time, we spent much of the day lounging by the pool, preparing for the next day's big show, which I'll tell you about tomorrow at 11:55pm. (How's that for specific!)

Happy 1st Birthday, Noah!

Before I took off for Florida, I jaunted up to Seattle to see Noah for his first birthday.

I picked up my little rental sedan and drove straight from the airport to Noah's place. Nicole allowed me to try feeding him right away. Generally, he approved. I can't believe how much he's grown. Last time I saw him, he could only drink from a bottle. Now he's eating bananas, applesauce, cereal, and he can pick it up with his hands and put it in his mouth. I was delighted to see that he is still ridiculously adorable.

After that brief visit, it was bedtime for him, and I went to my wacky and inconsistent hotel, which had the hardest bed I can remember sleeping on. Basically a glorified floor. And not that glorified. Yet, it had a kitchen, with a full-size fridge, stove, microwave, etc. I couldn't figure it out.

My four day stay flew by, as Noah, Nicole, her friend Cortnie and I went to the farmers market, the local waterfall and to some strange nature parade, filled with costumed hippies posing as ostriches and multitudinous other creatures.

I discovered Noah's obsession with crackers:

"Ta Da!"

Played rollercoaster with his stroller (I promise he likes it), talked about current events (okay, not really), listened to music, and just generally bonded. What a special, amazing person he is. I love that little guy.

He opened his presents (with minor wrapping ripping assistance). My favorite thing that I got for him was a toy piano, which is a legitimate musical instrument. He really seems to love music, and has always been enthralled with the piano...or maybe I'm projecting. I have no desire to force him to do what I do, but if he enjoys the piano, I'm not gonna cry.

Don'cha just wanna pinch those little cheeks?

We Take Rehearsals Very Seriously

Photo courtesy of Vashon Johnson

Let the Tweeting Sustain You

Some of you have mentioned that I haven't posted for a while. You are correct! Glad you're paying attention.

I've been busy and lacking internet access lately (excuses excuses). I jaunted up to Washington state to see my beautiful son Noah for his first birthday. Then I flew home for a couple days of rehearsal, and hopped back on a plane and traveled to Orlando, where I am now. We're filming the DC Games performance tomorrow. Pictures and a lengthy account of all of it to follow.

Until then, don't forget that you can scoot your lil' eyes over to the sidebar on the right -- where it says "mike on twitter" you can see my QuickBlog - what I've been up to at a glance (sometimes interrupted by a song lyric that feels particularly resonant or funny things I've overheard). And if six entries aren't enough for you, click "follow me on twitter" to see all of them. I love Twitter, and when I can't keep up with full-on blogging, I still Tweet regularly.

Does This Mean Something?

That makes four. Four times this week I've gotten something to drink. Four times I put my drink down. And four times I picked my drink back up to see a bug swimming gleefully in my beverage.

I'm sure there's some symbolism here. Any of you wanna guess what it means?

CMT

I'm not hugely into country music. But lately, I've been listening to a lot of it. Sorta. I'm totally obsessed with the new Kathleen Edwards record, "Asking for Flowers," the new Kim Richey, "Chinese Boxes" and the new Punch Brothers, "Punch." Especially the latter. Now, these are more along the lines of Folk and Bluegrass and Pop, really. Authentic Country music is all about the twang. I found this out first hand. At the CMT Music Awards, AKA National Celebration of Twang.

After arriving in Nashville, we discovered that Miley was sick with the flu and wasn't going to be at the rehearsal. We were worried for her, because she wasn't just singing one song, she was hosting the entire show.

The awards show was being held on the campus of Belmont University, which I attended for one semester back in 1998. That was a long time ago, but it still feels like home to me. My sister graduated from there as well, in the exact same building where we were playing. It was very strange to be back, especially since most of the friends I knew there had since moved away.

I decided to look for my old teachers in my down time. I couldn't really find any. I did, however, find Miss Tanya: the sweetest lunchlady you'll ever meet. I had such fond memories of seeing her smiling face every day. All the students were crazy about her. And she was still there doin' her thing after 20 years. And still the same incredibly kind Miss Tanya.

After waiting around for awhile, the band had a soundcheck, everybody got their levels, and it was back to the hotel.

Then I was free for the day, so I was able to go hang out with my sister Christina, her husband Doug and their friends Terrence and Tracy. We ate cake, told stories and watched a little Aqua Teens (MC P. Pants never gets old!). I see my sister about twice a year, and it's not nearly enough.

The next day, we headed back to campus, and sequestered ourselves in the Belmont Bruins locker room. This was basically the equivalent of our Kids' Choice tent. The only difference being that our tent was clearly marked as our tent, whereas it was a free-for-all claiming these rooms. Leann Rimes band members left their stuff in there, probably in an attempt to claim it. Didn't take.

Throughout the day, we met all manner of country stars: Keith Urban, Carrie Underwood, Taylor Swift (totally don't understand the appeal!), Snoop Dogg (?!?) and band members in mass quantities. Of course, it was mostly lost on me, as I don't know any of these peoples' music.

One thing we all noticed was that we were terribly underdressed. We had flannel, t-shirts, sneakers, jeans, etc, not to mention our bedheads. Apparently it is traditional among Nashvillians (or Nashvillains?) to get all dolled up in ultrafancy fabrics, supergelled hair and intense makeup. And I'm not even talking about the women. It was like metrosexual central. We were alternately impressed and embarrassed for them.

After another awards-show afternoon-of-waiting (we weren't allowed to leave again), we hopped on stage, where I saw Miley looking all glowy and perfect. Apparently she was feeling a bit better. I'm sure her doctors injected her full of vitamins. I can only imagine the crash she had the day after the awards.

We played our quick little song. And that was it.

We then headed back to the hotel and met at the bar of PF Changs, where the awards were still showing on TV (for some inexplicable reason, we didn't get the CMT network in our hotel rooms -- though we did get HBO. This is kind of strange for Nashville.)

During dinner, Carrie Underwood walked in the restaurant and all the waitstaff started buzzing about it. They practically stopped serving us at that point, as they were busy ogling her from the kitchen. Of course, they didn't care that Miley's band was there. Although one of the waiters thought Stacy was some guy from Survivor.

Fortunately, nobody said anything about me looking like Adam Levine. For once.

Now that I know what real twang sounds like, I realize that just because there's a slide guitar or a banjo involved in a song doesn't make it Country. And I'm grateful. That twang'll kill ya.

Celebrities, Slime and Spiked Butt Belts

The day of the Kids' Choice Awards, we arrived to the UCLA campus and were quickly herded into a tent/makeshift green room. Other than a litte table with meats and cheeses, the room was barren. This is where we'd be spending the next several hours.

But first, rehearsal. They were running the entire show that morning, from beginning to end. When they reached our point in the show, a runner guided us to the stage, and we did our thing. The kid extras seemed a little more excited today.

Then back to the tent, with about five hours till showtime. We were told we were allowed to leave, but only by foot, as the traffic getting back would be terrible. So I hoofed it around Westwood a bit. I hadn't really been in the area for a year or two, so I saw that my favorite CD store had closed and that several frozen yogurt places had opened (how much froyo do college students need?). And when I got bored (within twenty minutes), I headed back to the hometent. Things were much more exciting there:


When the show finally started around 5pm, the band decided to check out the white room. This room was created up in the stands behind the stage, with white furniture, white carpet, and sheer white sheets softly barricading all the celebrities in with their perfectly manicured hors d'oeuvres. We stuck out like a hand full of sore thumbs amongst Will Smith, Nelly, and a bunch of other slick rappers I didn't know of. Jaco and Jamie immediately grabbed a couple of the Neutrogena gift bags, full of manly moisturizing creams. They were far too excited about those. We enjoyed about a half hour of the show until Stacy, pro that he is, decided we should be in the tent at least 30 minutes before it was necessary. So we went back to our homevoid. Sat around for awhile. Made some calls.

Then the blur. Around 6pm, we were walked quickly through the back door and down a narrow hallway to the stage. We hit the stage, Miley barely made it into place in time for the song, and was a little out of breath. Everybody did their thing. We played like our hands were deadly precision instruments, the dancers flipped and flew like there were helium bombs in their shoes, and Miley's star presence inspired the kid extras to legitimately freak out.

And the set did look really good on TV.

The Loose Definition of Tomorrow

I know I said part two "coming tomorrow." Well, I've just come home from the American Hi Fi show (Stacy and Jamie rocked it out!) and now I'm packing to leave for Nashville bright and early in the morning, for the CMT Awards. It's late, I'm tired, and I had a blast at the show, seeing all sorts of people I haven't seen in quite a while.

So let's say "coming soon," how about?

Orange and Green and Yellow and Pink and...

The Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards show was a hurricane of celebrities, bright colors and slime.

We arrived bright and early the morning before, only to sit for nearly three hours while the dancers rehearsed. And of course they rehearsed! There were new dancers and a smaller stage to contend with. But there was definitely a kink in the planning.

Fortunately we were able to keep ourselves busy with the mountains of paperwork that accompany events like this. Generally, I spend more time filling out paperwork than I do on stage.

We were all stunned at how cheap and high school production the set looked. How many neon colors can you cram onto one stage?

The sets for all these TV shows look pretty dumpy in person. But once they light 'em all purty, and film them with high definition cameras, they look like a million bucks. Wonder of wonders.

Once we finally got on stage and played through the song twice with Miley, they brought up some kid extras to sit on the risers in front of us. Fun, right? Except the kids weren't having fun. Here's the Miley Cyrus singing and dancing inches away from them. Nothing.

So Valdez the production manager and another woman (who had a chip on her shoulder or a brick up her nose or something) came over to try and get a little more energy from the kids. Valdez sweetly said, "this is Miley Cyrus! Let's get excited! Scream! Smile!"

Ol' Bricky Nose tried a different tactic. She said, and I quote, "You people are terrible. Just awful." I'd also like to add that she was wearing a bright orange shirt that said "Psychiatric Hotline" and had an 800 number on it. She continued, "The execs said that you were THE kids to use for this. Well, they were wrong. Just atrocious."

I considered jumping in, but was in the midst of a rare moment of restraint.

Big esteem builder for the kids, though. This only led to even more shellshocked silence from them. Way to shut 'em down, Psychiatric Hotline!

Eventually, our choreographer Theresa came over, screaming and flailing like she was on fire. "Miley Cyrus! Yaaaaay! Everybody wave your hands in the air the whole time! Yaaaaay!"

Of course that worked.

[Day Two - the actual ceremony - coming tomorrow.]

Yeah, Yeah, I Know

Kids' Choice Awards entry coming shortly.

My Civic Responsibility, and How It Shamed Me

After postponing jury duty several times (once for Noah's birth, once for the tour, and another time for the tour extension), my time was up. I had to go in.

Back in Boston, I was called into jury duty one day, and during the wait I wrote three songs ("Normal," "Starfish" and "I'm a Moron," which were later featured on my albums) and then all the prospective jurors were sent home. I knew I couldn't hope for such a productive and legally uneventful day this time. But whereas last time, I was ready to be put on a jury and miss school, this time I needed to go home right away, as it was Wednesday and we had our Kids' Choice Awards show on Friday.

Those sadistic government folks demanded I be there at 7:30am. They hate joy. And probably ponies and puppies as well.

After several hours of boredom and guilty feelings that I was far too tired to write a song, my number was called. I had to join a panel. This required a few more hours of boredom in a hallway people cluster:

Around 2pm, this motley bunch of about thirty grumbling panelists was finally escorted into the courtroom. Every single one of us had our fingers crossed under our seats that we wouldn't be called up to the jury. Twelve people who weren't me scuttled to the front.

The case was explained to us. The defendant was accused of domestic violence towards his wife and small child. He was also charged with telling his wife not to call the police, which I didn't realize was even a crime ("Honey, I shrunk the kids. Don't tell the police." -- CRIMINAL!). The details were gruesome and the outlook was bleak for everyone involved. The kind and elderly judge ran us through a questionnaire, which basically asked if we could all be objective and not be swayed by our emotions. The twelve in the box said yes.

I thought, hell no. Dude looked guilty. Supremely guilty. Like wife-and-child-beating guilty. His head was in his hands. And his attorney was a superslimeball, while the prosecuting attorney was a warm sweetheart. This does not help my brittle impartiality.

You don't have to tell me. I realize these are superficial things. I'm aware of that. But guess who makes emotion-based decisions? *hand raises*

For one reason or another, several people in the box were let go: one person used to be a cop, one person barely understood English, another just seemed really stupid.

As each new person was called from our panel to replace the nixed ones, I tensed up and prayed they wouldn't call me. Over and over they didn't.

This continued for hours until there were only five of us left in the panel. My number was called.

Boo.

I slunk up to the box and sat down. The judge asked me several questions about my background and then inquired if I had any objections that may prevent me from being impartial. I mentioned that I had a problem with the "innocent until proven guitly thing," as I had already made up my mind about who was guilty and I was going to have a very hard time being convinced otherwise. Fearing that I hadn't quite knocked it out of the park, I said that I have a real problem with domestic violence. (Of course, in retrospect, this is totally stupid. Who likes domestic violence? Who says, "I want a greek salad with red wine vinaigrette and a sprinkling of domestic violence?" or "Let's go out for dinner and a movie, and then we can come home and you can beat me?" Umm, no one. That's who. Dummy.)

The judge mercifully let me go. And while everything I said was completely true, as I walked out on my civic duty, I felt dirty.

Maybe one day I'll be called back in, when I don't have to work right away, and I can be a Righteous Crusader for Justice, slaying criminals with my brute lawfulness. Just not right now.

I avoided eye contact all the way out of the building.

I Do Not Have A Connective Tissue Disorder!

Easter Sunday was a complete blur, that began at church with my parents and ended watching an old high school friend in the national tour of Sweeney Todd. She was amazing.

Back in early October, my orthopedic diagnosed me as hypermobile with arachnodactly, which basically means that my joints are freakishly flexible and I have long fingers and toes. I also showed other symptoms that led him to believe I might have Marfans Syndrome. Marfans is mainly not that big a deal...except for the part where your joints basically fall apart due to looseness of connective tissue, and also your heart kinda explodes.

So this was something to look into.

I booked an appointment with a highly sought-after geneticist immediately after that diagnosis, and this geneticist was not available until today, March 25. That's a long wait to find out if you're gonna die soon.

After filling out an extremely thorough questionnaire (which I mailed in several months ago), with details on the history of my entire family, and another lengthy interview by a fellow today, the esteemed Dr. Rimoin entered the room, moved a couple of my joints around, listened to my heart, and basically gave me his blessing with a clean bill of health. That was quick.

He said he doesn't know what's going on with me, but it's not Marfans. And for that, I breathe a sigh of relief. Especially to know that I'm not passing it on to sweet little Noah.

And now, on to the next thing. At 7:45am tomorrow, I am to report for jury duty in the Los Angeles Superior Court. I really hope we don't go to trial, because I have to play the Kids' Choice Awards with Miley in a couple days. In order to avoid the jury, Ben says to be antisocial, creepy, and talk really slowly. Oh, also to glare at people like The Crow. I'm working on it. Something tells me "antisocial" won't be too hard at eight in the morning.

Yeehaw Y'all!

I'm back. I've been in the cave of The Samantha Murphy Show. I'm proud to say we all emerged with 7 days of awesome shows from South By Southwest. I hope you've all checked out the show (go to smtvmusic.com if you haven't yet seen me make a complete fool out of myself on camera).

Just before SXSW, the Miley/Hannah crew reunited in Houston for the livestock and rodeo show. It's was a much bigger deal than most of us expected. There were big music acts every night, and we were the only one that sold out. That was exciting, but on top of that Kay was super-psyched to see the cowboys do what they do.

We arrived all groggy around 10am at the venue, which was all dirt. Nobody wore the right shoes. A massive stage sat in the center.

We soundchecked for awhile, then decided to run the entire show. The stage was much smaller than we were used to, so the choreography needed to be adjusted.

We were told that the stage would be turning as we performed, so that everybody in the arena could see us. But we were assured that it would turn quite slowly.

This was not really so true. As we ran the show for two hours on empty stomachs, we noticed that the speed of the rotation was a bit undersold to us. It was actually kinda fast.

Also, the stage could only make three full rotations, because of cabling. Then with a lurch, it would spin in the opposite direction. Which of course meant that every minute or so, all the dancers would nearly get knocked to the ground. Fun! And I was kinda sick. A little nauseous.

To celebrate our quease, Candice, Jaco and I spent our couple hours off enjoying the carnival rides.

We also checked out the freaks and the farm animals:

The rodeo started at precisely 3:46pm. I don't know why. They run that thing like clockwork. We gathered out front to see all the calf-roping action up close. Kay quickly became disenfranchised by the violence of the act.

At 6:22pm exactly, they drove us out to the show in little golf carts, and the whirlwind began.

And just as quickly as it began, it was over. Miley and Billy Ray left the stage in a clearly marked Ford Mustang convertible, which we all thought was hilariously cheesy. I'm sure Miley an Billy Ray would agree.

Our sold-out show broke the rodeo's attendance record, which was previously held by last year's Hannah Montana/Cheetah Girls show. 73,000 cowboys and little cowgirls were present.

The Big Payoff

I have lots of great pics and videos of the Houston rodeo, which will be up on the blog next week.

This week, I'm at South By Southwest in Austin. After months of hard work, the Samantha Murphy Show (which I'm directing and co-hosting) is finally premiering! It features great singer/songwriters and bands, as well as interviews with heavy hitters in music and technology. A new show will be up every night at smtvmusic.com. You can see two episodes as of this writing, and the third will be up in the morning.

We are spending every second shooting, editing and uploading. We're tired, we're sore and we're sunburnt, but if you enjoy the show, it's all worth it.

Here's the trailer:

Music I've Been Obsessed With

Whenever I'm going through a hard time, it's nice to have some rich, complex music to dig into, to burrow inside of. The following are some records that have helped me, of late.
What: Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Why I Love It: Ever since I picked it up that day in Minneapolis, I've listened to this at least once a day. Sheer brilliance in every second. It is at the same time raw and polished, simple and shockingly layered. Every time I listen to it, I find something new to marvel at. It just gets better and better. I am so incredibly excited to see Spoon play this coming week at SXSW. These guys are finding brand new roads through pop music, and that is far too rare nowadays. Genius. I am in love.

My Advice: Buy it now! Your immediate favorite will be "The Underdog" (produced by Jon Brion), but all the songs will slowly reveal themselves to you.

Favorite Lyrics: "Remember/the winter/gets cold in ways you always forget." - Rhthm & Soul

"I'm in need of someone/to take care of me tonight/as I walk into Dorian's/can you see it in my eyes?/my boots are on the mend/and they ain't walkin' home/street tar and summer/do a job on your sole." - Black Like Me

"I wanna forget how convention fits/but can I get out from under it?/can I cut it out of me?/it can't all be wedding cake/it can't all be boiled away/I tried but I can't let go of it/cause you don't talk to the waterboy/and there's so much you could learn but you don't wanna know/you will not back up an inch ever/that's why you will not survive." - The Underdog

Listen to the whole album now.

Buy it on




What: Suzanne Vega - Beauty and Crime

Why I Love It: The first time I heard it, half-listening while walking, I thought the production was stronger than usual for her, but the lyrics were "meh." Well, upon further listens, I am happy to report that I was completely wrong. This is one of her richest, deepest albums. The record focuses on New York City: its charm, its sadness, and its many stories. She continues to write like an complete alien, which is a good thing. She objectively observes, and is as unsentimental as a human can be, but this collection of songs has a lot of heart. "Bound" is a highlight (and particularly resonant for me at the moment) in a sea of gems. The level of craft here is astounding. Oh also it just won a Grammy for "Best Engineered Album (Non Classical)."

My Advice: Big surprise. Buy it now! Give it some time to sink in.

Favorite Lyrics: "The way of the world/has taken its toll/ravaged my body/and bitten my soul./I am ruined by rain/weathered by wind/I've been invaded/without and within./And I ask/I am asking you/asking you if you might still want me./When I said 'I am bound to you forever/here's what I meant:/'I am bound to you forever.'" - Bound

"This time/when I go back to Ludlow Street/I find/each stoop and doorway's incomplete/without you there./Love is the only thing that matters/love is the only thing that's real/and when I think about you now/love is the only thing I feel." - Ludlow Street

"New York is a woman/she'll make you cry/and to her you're just another guy." - New York Is A Woman

Listen to three songs here.

Buy it on



____________________________

There's more music to share with you, but we'll save it for another time. I'm still completely obsessed with both Kathleen Edwards records, and she released her third one this week. I must run to Amoeba and inject it into my veins pronto.

Dining With the Dead

On Oscar Sunday, instead of going to an Oscar party (I was dying to watch the awards, but Tivo'd them back home instead), we went to a dinner party for members of the exclusive Pho list. I met tons of important people and embarrassed myself, as usual. The worst part was, the restaurant was playing the Oscars on all the TV's. And it was muted, with the captions on. So I would try desperately to avoid it, and then would accidentally catch a split second, and see the captions saying things like "and the winner of Best Costume Design is Sweeney Todd."

This happened more than three times.

By the end, I was exhausted from all the socializing (have I ever mentioned I'm a total introvert?), and dragged myself to bed...after taking one picture:


The Kabuki hotel really treated us well. And Monday morning, I woke up to this:

Ahh.

Monday brought the San Francisco Music Tech Summit, which was attended by many brilliant folks including the founder of YouTube, the former drummer from Creeper Lagoon, the creator of CDBaby and tons of musicians and web people. Quite a meeting of minds.

During the afternoon, we interviewed John Perry Barlow, one of the songwriters for The Grateful Dead. What a thoughtful, intelligent man.

We filmed and filmed and filmed some more. Interviews and panels and behind-the-scenes, oh my! Samantha hosted a panel sponsored by Digital Freedom:

She also played a show at the end of the day for the hundreds of smarties. And afterwards, we were personally invited to join John Perry Barlow (of the Dead) and Claudio Prado, the Vice Minister of Culture for Brazil, for some Korean barbecue. To hear these two trade stories was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Over the course of the day, we heard tons of great ideas, brilliant internet strategies and genius theories, all of which I promptly forgot by the car ride home.

A Night by the Fire

So, after the embarrassment that was the Jonathan Coulton interview, Saturday couldn't really get a whole lot worse. That day, I was scheduled to play Paul Schreiber's house concert. Paul works as a programmer at Apple, and he hosts these house concerts every month or so. He's earned quite a reputation as a tastemaker, previously featuring artists like The Weepies, Kyler, Adrianne and our very own Samantha Murphy.

He's also earned a reputation for being a ridiculously hospitable host. Paul spent the day preparing chocolate cake, donut holes and banana bread from scratch. This guy's not kidding around.
He set up his bedroom as the green room, complete with tea, magazines, paper and pens for my set list -- you get the idea. I felt very much at home.

And the place was packed. I played two sets of 45 minutes each. It was great fun to play for so long, because I was able to pull out some songs I don't often play, like "The Road" and "Ferris Wheel."

I got a great response from the audience, who were a great bunch of listeners. Sometimes it's hard to tell if a crowd is diggin' it, but they seemed pretty into it.

I Am Not Stalking You

I realize that I'm way behind on my blog. So here's a little catch-up.

Last Friday, Samantha and I piled cameras, tripods, a keyboard, a guitar, suitcases, CDs, cables, a PA system, bags of videotapes and so much more into my tiny compact car for a business trip to San Francisco.

When we arrived six hours later, we immediately jumped into work. For the TV show, we were covering Jonathan Coulton's (or JoCo's) sold-out show at the Great American Music Hall. This show was quite important to him, as a massive and well-paid camera crew was filming it for his upcoming DVD, and we were filming the filming. Samantha and I are both big fans, and were very excited.

It was interesting to meet his fans. I wasn't surprised at all that they were all nerds, as his music is total geek-rock (and I mean this in the nicest way). However, Samantha and I were both very surprised that they were all rude. Not sure if it was a San Francisco thing, or a nerds-who-have-never-seen-sunlight-and-have-no-social-skills thing, but every single one that spoke to us was shockingly unkind.

Despite all the angry dorks (or maybe because of, who knows?), Jonathan put on a fantastic show, filled with references to robots, zombies, monsters and concluding with the announcement-masquerading-as-spectacle, where Jonathan and various popular bloggers played his song from Portal, "Still Alive" in Rock Band (surprise, everyone!). The collective geeksplosion of brain matter was sort of gross. But fun.

(A fan gave him this creepy doll, which they created, based on his song, "Creepy Doll." How nice...and obsessive.)

The whole night helped me realize that although I am a geek, there are perhaps levels of geekiness, and those people are on some crazy "we-go-to-Comic-Con-dressed-as-Joss-Whedon" level.

After the show, we headed backstage for an interview with Jonathan. At this point, I should mention that Samantha told JoCo in her previous interview with him (which you can now hear at smtvmusic.com) that I am a huge fan. I was not present for this. She went further, saying that I'm basically stalking him. She has continued to joke that I am in love with him every time she's talked to him in the months since then. She even put the horribly embarrassing picture from this previous entry on her Flickr page. He's a little freaked out, I'm guessing.

For the record, I like his music. That's pretty much it. I don't want him to do my dishes or wash my laundry or clean my toilets. I just want to listen to "Still Alive" every now and then.

That said, Jonathan seemed downright afraid of me from the word go. This made us both completely uncomfortable. But we did our best to create a little video content...

...that I probably won't be able to use. I'm scheduled to edit this footage tomorrow, and I'm honestly dreading even looking at it. Surely, I look like a complete idiot. Either way, you'll be able to see for yourself when it airs later this month. [Sarcasm activated] I can hardly wait. [Sarcasm deactivated].

Wow, I really am a geek.