The ceremony was held at the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal Studios, and it was a veritable cornicopia of celebrities, Dippin' Dots, and fancy swag.
Mostly, we:
Pete Wentz hosts a video premiere/live performance show for MTV on Friday Nights, called FNMTV (pretty clever right? Oh, "not so much?" OK). It's nice that MTV is actually playing music again, though.
We performed "7 Things" and "Fly On The Wall." It was a live broadcast, so it involved lots of pre-scrambling and then a quick blast of show, and then the inevitable let-down afterwards.
Teresa the choreographer.
Nate on a perch.
SuperFreakVashon attempts to protect his secret identity,
I finally landed myself in the padded room.New York City welcomed us with a bleak, cold rainstorm. A rainstorm with which we became very familiar as we waited soggily for our shuttle to come pick us up from the JFK airport. It didn't show. After over an hour, Stacy made a phone call to the shuttle service. The service replied, "He's been waiting for over an hour. He couldn't get in to the gate, so he's around the back."
No one called to tell us this?
The only thing worse than waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle is waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle that's parked around the corner.
We made our way to the bus marked "Krystal." Their slogan was "a 'gem' of a ride!"
Kill me now.
After boarding and finally leaving the airport, the driver swerved and tailgated his way into the city. Nearly a half-hour later, we pulled over near a basketball court in what was clearly the ghetto. This was not our hotel. The driver exited the bus. He slowly walked around the side and looked closely at the front tire. Then the back tire. Then he went around the other side and did the same.
And then, without a word, he got back on the bus and resumed driving.
Okay then.
He had a strong preference for the right lane on the freeway, adding at least 15 additional minutes to our ride. When we finally reached the hotel, he parked at the entrance that was clearly marked "closed after 7pm." It was nearly 9pm.
He started pulling all our bags out of the back of the bus, when he finally heard us all screaming, "We need to move!" and "Put the bags back!" and "Why are you so dumb!?"
So he drove the van around the block to the front entrance.
Not quite a "gem" after all.
My room at the Affinia Hotel was spacious, with a full kitchen and a high ceiling, but tempered by the customary miniscule New York bathroom: you can only take a shower if you suck in your gut.
The pillows were comfy, but in case they weren't, the Affinia had a pillow menu to put that other place to shame (click photo to enlarge):
What to do when you're in New York City? Well, same thing I always do: see my buddy Ben. The two of us slogged through the wet city to some country steak joint that oddly smelled like warm brownies, which is never a bad thing. I say "oddly," because brownies were not on the menu.
I had the burger.
Just like last time, it was garbage night in the city.
I'm convinced this is an everyday sight. Trash sprawled up almost every street. And trust me, there's nothing like the smell of wet garbage in the evening air to rid your brain of brownie thoughts.
The following day, we were slated to play Z100's Zootopia. Z100 is supposedly the most widely listened-to station in the world. I'm not sure how anyone can prove this.
The festival was being held at what was previously the Meadowlands Arena in Jersey, now annoyingly renamed the Izod Center. During the tour, I grew weary of arenas with names like the Dunkin Donuts Center, the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater and the FedEx Forum. Are there any venues that haven't been bought by The Man?
We had our soundcheck early in the morning and everything went very well. I can't say the same for Jessie McCartney, who spent his entire half-hour listening to Pro-Tools tracks while his playback guy tried to fix some completely inaudible problem. The band looked impatient, and Jessie looked like he was about ready to blow.
At noon, they commuted us back to the hotel for an entire day of freedom in the city. I went to the park.
The Krystal bus picked us up again at 8:30pm and drove us back out to Jersey for the big show. Also performing, the Jonas Brothers, OneRepublic, Danity Kane and Simple Plan. We got back just in time for me to check out Sara Bareilles. I really like "Love Song." Good thing too, cause they only let her play that one tune, even though everybody else was playing half-hour sets.
After her, all the girls swooned for New Kids On The Block. Yes. That's not a typo. New Kids. And how they did swoon. Some of our female dancers (and I won't name names to spare their dignity) knew all the lyrics and were very excited to see their childhood idols all growed up (read: old and depressing) and still dancing the same dance steps. It was like Bring Your Dad To Work Night at the Apollo. But I'm happy for them, I guess. They just grabbed themselves another 15 minutes.
We took the stage around 10:30 and Miley proceeded to melt some faces. Everything went well until the song, "Right Here," when my ears went out. I looked around and noticed that I wasn't the only one. Jamie was mouthing to Stacy, "No ears!" Jaco looked at me and mouthed, "Did you lose your ears?" We kept playing despite the fact that none of us could hear much of anything, as our ears block outside sound, so when they turn off, you can't hear very well. A while later in the song, the ears came back on, and of course we were off the click, so they had to stop the click track. Again, we kept playing.
Looking at the faces in the audience, nobody noticed the numerous heart attacks that just occured on stage. Those crazy kids just wanna have a good time. And a good time they had.
One show down, one to go. Tomorrow, the big NetJets show.
People have been asking, "approximately how many people do you think were at Wango Tango?" I've always been terrible at guessing how many candy corns are in the jar, so count for yourselves:
(What You Sick People Come Here For)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.
We just arrived at the delicious James Hotel in Chicago. It's like a building made of candy. This place reminds me of the Curtis in Denver.
And guess who I saw in the lobby?
Drum roll...
None other than THE John C. Reilly. I'm a huge fan. It was profound, but I won't bore you with the details of my inner experience (though I'm usually so happy to do that). Needless to say, I didn't open my mouth... We all know how I react in these situations.
A few minutes later, I was cramming myself, some dancers and our bags into the elevator. I was face up to the door. As it was closing, John C. Reilly tried to get in, but I just looked him in the eyes as the door closed.
There was literally no room in the elevator for one of my heroes.
I do wonder what he's doing in Chicago though. Maybe he's coming to our show. Stranger things have happened!
Okay. It was rough. My nose didn't stop running all night, so I put a Kleenex box backstage behind the drum platform and every time there was a bit of a gap between songs, I booked it back there, bent down (so as not to be seen) and blew my nose heartily. Quite graceful.
Barry Gibb was backstage with us, which totally blew my mind. It took every fiber of my being to keep from busting into "How Deep Is Your Love."
J.Lo didn't show. Nor did Marc Antony. But guess who did?
No, really. Guess! Okay, you'll never guess.
Vanilla Ice.
...For real.
I've moved past the fever and chills. Today is Stomach Disaster Day. At least I'm moving forward. I feel so sick I could fall down, but I've got to ignore it because we've got a show to do! My main concern is that my nose will run while I'm on stage and I won't have any Kleenexes. Or that I'll cough a lot. Not really so rock n' roll is it?
And here (in Sunrise, Florida) tonight, we're expecting JLo, Marc Antony and Barry Gibb in the audience. So I'd better not fall down.
Today I flew to St. Louis to begin the tour. Checking in at LAX, directly in front of me in line was Malcolm McDowell. How cool is that? And he smiled at me. He's just as creepy in person...and I mean that in a good way.
Oh, I forgot to mention -- the other day on the Disney Lot, I had the best celebrity sighting. As I entered a building for vocal rehearsal, sitting on the ground talking with some people was none other than Felicity Huffman, the best actress working today. And she looked radiant.
After the flight, we checked in here at the Westin, and let me tell you, it is nice. Much nicer than what I'm used to. I have a suite-type thing and it's beautiful.
There's a rumor that we're now cutting "Clear" from the show. We've already cut everybody's favorite song from the show, and this is the band's second favorite song. They think the song might be too tonally mature for the show. I'm really bummed about this. We'll see if it's true tomorrow.
The gig last night at Genghis was a total blast. I shared the stage with Andrea Stolpe and Samantha Murphy. It was a perfect combo of different songwriting styles and personalities. I hope I have the pleasure of sharing the stage with them again very soon.
I've decided to take the Hannah Montana tour. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication. They thought I had all my own gear. As a result of the MIDI project studio becoming so feasible, I sold all my synths a few years ago. Now I keep all my sounds in my computer and control them from a keyboard that has no sounds on it. This is a problem. I have to buy new synths for this tour. I still don't know if Disney is going to cover them, but it certainly won't be a dealbreaker. I'm heavily entrenched in Research Mode right now.
Next weekend, I'm playing a one-off gig with Kenna in Orlando. I love Kenna's music, so that should be a lot of fun. And they're running all their sounds out of Logic, so I don't even need to provide a keyboard for that. I'll just show up and play. My favorite. The lugging and setting up of gear is the main thing about live shows that I don't like. It's like moving, minus the U-Haul.
Despite the fact that this blog has been exclusively Bioshock posts as of late, there's been a lot going on. (I have managed to squeeze in some sweet Bioshock time though).
Samantha and I have been shooting crazy quantities of footage for the upcoming Samantha Murphy Show. I'm very excited about it. Sunday night we went to Inara George's annual tribute to benefit the Theatricum Botanicum in Topanga Canyon. It featured Inara, Eleni Mandell, Mike Andrews (composer of Donnie Darko and Me And You And Everyone We Know (one of my favorite movies) Priscilla Ahn and Tom Brosseau. It was a lovely evening, and we got some great interviews.
Hopefully I'll have more announcements about the show soon. We're headed to San Francisco tomorrow morning to tape a backstage interview with Crowded House (psyched to meet Neil Finn and the guys!). While we're in town, we're also slated to each play sets at Apple world headquarters. Very exciting.
I've been working on a brand new VH1 show called "With A Bullet." It's a hilarious mockumentary show about a has-been singer who makes a comeback. I wrote the song that the show centers around, "My Retarded Heart" (their title, not mine). Samantha sang it. This morning, we visited the set. We just missed Alanis Morrissette, who apparently loved the song. We watched a bit of the shoot it and was a blast. Everybody had the song stuck in their head. I felt like I should apologize. I have to say though, my favorite moment was when we met Jane Lynch (I'm a big fan) and she couldn't stop singing it. Hopefully the pilot will get picked up. More news soon.
An offer just came in for me to backup Hannah Montana on her upcoming tour. I'm not really familiar with her music, but I know she's Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter, a huge Disney star (the tour is stadiums only), and mostly aimed at teens. It's not my demographic, but it sounds like a fun gig. The tour runs through January. I'm still deciding.
Also, my new album is almost done and will be released this fall.
So whew! Lots going on.
In addition to Sleuth, Michael Haneke is remaking his own film, "Funny Games." The original is a tense classic that makes a very powerful statement. It still holds up extremely well, as it only came out only ten years ago. Now, granted his filmmaking has changed quite a bit in those ten years and I'm sure this version will be different, perhaps better. Also, the last one didn't feature any names, and this one features Naomi Watts, Michael Pitt and Tim Roth.
But I can't imagine, in ten years, completely retreading the entirety of my "High Cost of Living" album. I've already made that statement. It's out there for anyone who wants to hear it. Isn't it time for me to make a new statement?
Why would Michael Haneke, an incredible filmmaker, duplicate his own film? I mean, they're even using a blueprint of the original set to make sure the new one has identical dimensions! The producers have stated they're remaking it shot for shot. (That worked so well when Gus Van Sant did it with Psycho -- booooo). Haneke says, "Localization is required to fully understand the Funny Games experience." Heaven forbid we be exposed to another culture, or get to know some new actors. Why do this? Oh right, money.
I get it, it's the American remake. That wonderful new tradition. Are people really so stupid that they can't watch a ten year old movie from Germany? Read a few subtitles? Oh really, they are? Could they watch an English dub, then? Do we really have to reshoot the entire thing just for these idiots? Oh really, we do? Fantastic.
Why don't we remake Paris Je T'aime already then? And it can take place in Chicago. And the segments will be directed by Brett Ratner and Michael Bay. And no one with an IQ over 15 can get into the theater.
Let's just have a moment of silence for all the terrible American remakes of great foreign films, with watered-down themes and missing subtext:
Open Your Eyes - Vanilla Sky
Spoorloos - The Vanishing
Les Diaboliques - Diabolique
Ringu - The Ring
Shall We Dance
Mostly Martha - No Reservations
Godzilla
Honoguarai Mizu No Soko Kara - Dark Water
Insomnia
Ju-On - The Grudge
And there are so many more. Let us mourn.
They're remaking "Sleuth." Michael Caine is starring in it again, but this time with Jude Law. And this time Michael is playing the older role previously played by Lawrence Olivier. (A strange aside: this is the second Michael Caine film to be remade, the first being "Alfie," with Jude Law in the original Michael Caine role). Harold Pinter's adapting the screenplay and Kenneth Branaugh's directing.
Sounds like a great lineup. But the question remains: why do this? The original was wonderful. And wasn't there already a remake? And wasn't it called "Deathtrap?" And didn't it kinda suck?
These are all people capable of great things, so why not get together and make a great original thing?
All that said, I'll probably go see it. So I guess that answers that.
Last night, I went with my dear friends Jen, Rob and Patrick to see David Lynch's "Inland Empire." I'm a huge Lynch fan, and I love every one of his movies. So it didn't really bother me that this one was almost 4 hours, shot on video, and probably didn't make much sense to most people. However, it also didn't make much sense to ME, which is new for a David Lynch film. "Mulholland Drive," while many people wrote it off, I thought was fantastic, extremely coherent, and I absolutely loved it. This? Not so much.
Anyway, that's not the point. I was sitting alone, with six empty seats to my right, when some guy asked if he could sit near me. I said that my friends were going to sit there. He challenged back, "how many seats?" I said "all of them." I knew at least three people were coming, but didn't know how many people they were bringing with them (they usually bring a few friends too). So I figured I should save them all. There were plenty of seats available in the rows in front of me. But he went further back in the theater. It was then brought to my attention (by everyone around me) that the man I just told to go away, was none other than some villain guy on "Lost." Now, I don't watch "Lost," so I don't really care, and I definitely don't think I should have to let him sit near me just cause he's semi-famous.
I think celebrity, in and of itself, is a silly thing to get excited about. One time, I saw Jeremy Piven and Johnny Knoxville at the 101 Cafe, and they just looked like some people who should've showered that morning. If I ever encounter Cameron Diaz, I won't even blink.
However, when I see someone who's art inspires me, someone I respect...I totally geek out. Nicole totally does it too. This happened the time I saw Jon Brion outside Tribune. The two times she saw Aimee Mann outside Starbucks. When she saw Helena Bonham Carter in Venice. And when she saw Mark Ruffalo at The Coffee Bean. We've had some good ones. And in those moments, we become blathering idiots.
Cut to: 10 minutes later. My friends have arrived. They're all seated, (all three of them -- I felt bad, cause Mr. Lost Villain could plainly see from his seat a few rows back that he could've sat in our row), and I have a little celebrity sighting of my own. The geek-out kind. Across the way, I see one of my favorite actresses working today: Tina Holmes.
I whisper/shriek to everyone, "Tina Holmes! Tina Holmes!"
And they're all like, "Who?!"
I say "Over there! You know, Maggie from Six Feet Under?"
"We don't really watch Six Feet Under."
I prod, "She was amazing in Keane? You know?"
Blank stares.
The guy in front of me says, "She was in Half Nelson."
Everybody goes, "Oh, her."
Anyway, she's totally pregnant, and she looks amazing, and she's with her man. And they're advocating that I go up and talk to her.
Here's where I slam on the brakes. I don't accost celebrities. I'm already totally geeking out, like a blathering idiot, and the last thing this poor pregnant woman and her man, who are just waiting to sit in the dark and watch a weird David Lynch home movie, need to experience.
What would I say anyway? "Hi Tina, you don't know me, but I just love your work...blah blah blah, cliche cliche, I just wanted to waste a little of your time, and make you hate going out in public even more! How'd I do?"
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