Americana Dan

Teddy, Tennis, Sir Elton and Uncle Phil

2011-03-09T19:17:00.000-08:00

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Lately I've been playing more often, with sudden intensity and increased volume. At home. Sure, why not? It's amazing how much creative energy gets unleashed when your home PA system and guitar amplification enables you to play softly while occupying a large sonic footprint. Reminds of a musical Teddy Roosevelt, speaking softly but carrying a big stick.

Speaking of Teddy, isn't it curious that in certain circles, his legacy is that of a pioneer environmentalist while others tend to vilify him in spite of his landmark achievements in preserving American treasures? He launched the National Park system with Yosemite and Yellowstone National Parks among others, along with 150 national forests and many national monuments. Yet Teddy was also keen on hunting and delighted in shooting wildlife in abundance throughout American, Africa and anywhere else he traveled. I find myself torn between giving him a pass, for this was a widely glorified activity and an essential part of our pioneer heritage, on the one hand, and on the other, feeling like his legacy was deservedly tarnished by his penchant for slaughtering beautiful wild animals on a grand scale.
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Last night, I had the pleasure of witnessing several of the greatest tennis players in history---Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, plus Maria Sharapova and Victoria Anakova---at the splendid new venue known as Matthew Knight Arena, right here in my hometown: Eugene, Oregon. We thank Phil Knight for his largess because without his enormous contributions, this arena would not have been built. The breathtaking skills of all four, plus John McEnroe, were on full display, and in this exhibition, they also had the opportunity to let their personalities shine. And contrary to my expectations, framed by media events, they had plenty to offer in terms of personality and verve. Roger Federer in particular exhibited a quick wit and an exceptionally nimble mind.

Speaking of the Matt Knight Arena, two weeks ago we saw Elton John and his amazing band perform there. Thankfully, his percussionist John Mahon played on my first record, "When The Big Picture Fades", and through his kindness we were able to visit with the band before the show and to see their performance from the third row. Elton's performance exceeded my high expectations. He played for three hours, energetically and poignantly, tirelessly and flawlessly, and I ask you, how often can this be said of any musical performance? Thank you Phil Knight, for creating this remarkable new venue, equal to the most superb arenas in the world, in my hometown, then for arranging for such talent (tennis phenoms included) to perform here. To receive the collateral benefit of your giving character should humble us all in Eugene. But Eugene is a funny town that way. More on that later. I love this place, but it suffers from an abundance of strange and inexplicable quirks. Which will be a fine topic for another post, and which is the inspiration for my new song entitled "Our Town Needs Therapy". I've reserved a slot for this tune on my next release. In the meantime, thank you Uncle Phil!

I'm Back---Happy New Year

2011-01-02T18:23:00.001-08:00

This is my first post in months. So much has happened I hardly know where to start. The biggest thing that happened---a serious, nearly life changing bicycle accident---offers me a terrific excuse for ignoring my blog. I will provide a detailed account of my near-death bike wreck another time. I could easily turn to other excuses for abandoning my loyal blog followers, but they pale in comparison to that one. For now though, I'm ready to celebrate 2011.

Resolutions? I've got plenty. A few of them may stick. For one, I plan to devote more time to Americana Dan. And to music. And to building stuff. Oh yea, I guess I should say that my commitment to building stuff probably explains more about my absence from this venue, and from music, than does my near-death bike wreck (NDBW for short).

What does it say about me that I have plenty of time consuming passions? That I'm flighty? That I'm scattered? That my affections are transient? Nah, I just like to do lots of stuff. And I'm one of those people who tends to get obsessive about my interests. Plus when it comes to construction projects, there's a lot to obsess about. More about this topic later---I have a lot to tell.

Other things that have happened since my last post? Well, my favorite football team---the University of Oregon Ducks---is playing for the BCS National Championship next Monday. You could say this is a dream come true, except most folks my age who became Duck fans in the 70's never dared to dream that this could come true. I don't know a single person from that era who ever stated in their most drunken moments that they thought the Ducks would someday compete for the NCAA National Championship in football.

I've taken a few trips, performed on several memorable occasions, learned that when bicycling downhill it is important to know how to use your brakes, witnessed transcendent musical talent---the greatest bass player ever, Victor Wooten---everyone should make it a point to see him play sometime, and in general, enjoyed my life as much as one could subsequent to an NDBW.

It's hard to know what 2011 may bring. I have high hopes that I will nurture this blog with more diligence than in 2010. That I will reach a point at which building even more stuff seems pointless. That I will record a new collection of songs. That the Ducks will win the BCS National Championship, defeating the mighty Auburn Tigers led by Heisman Trophy winner Cam Newton. And that I will ride a bicycle once again, safely this time.

Improvisation

2010-05-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

I have developed a knack for musical improvisation. Plenty of musicians are skilled at improv, some prefer creating lead parts on the fly. That's not the kind of improvisation I'm talking about. Instead of injecting unrehearsed musical passages into a tune, I like to make up entire songs---both music and lyrics (the hard part) that way. At times, the results have been extremely gratifying with my sole regret being that the moment was not recorded. That's one thing about my improv numbers---they are all complete one-offs. I can't repeat them if I try.

My typical improv numbers tend to sneak up on the audience. I might start by playing a few familiar tunes, then throw in some of my original material. Somewhere along the way, I'll pound out a chord sequence that sounds familiar to the audience but they can't quite trace it to a particular song. Then I'll start singing a melody using lyrics that involve details of the place we're in or events that have transpired over the course of our evening.

A good improv number accomplishes a number of universally desirable things. First, there is usually a humorous component, so the audience often will start laughing. But more than that, audience members suddenly feel more connected to each other, so the song serves as a unifying event. Occasionally I'll manage to create a chorus that captures the vibe of the evening so well that before long, everyone is singing.

I don't know many musicians willing to attempt full improv numbers in live performances. I was afraid to do it for the longest time and would only attempt improv songs in the company of friends. Before long though, I gained enough confidence in my ability to create spontaneous songs which pass for finished pieces that I started to include an improv or two in public performances. It's a bit of a high wire act---one never knows when the mind might fail to deliver lyrics that sound coherent enough to pass for a real song. When that happens, the performer faces a dilemma. Your choices: stop the song or keep going with really lame lyrics or a break in the lyrical delivery. Either way, you have suffered failure. Luckily, at least in my experience to date, this fate has pretty much eluded me.

In a recent trip, I was performing short sets almost every night. As an aside, have you noticed that the word "emboldened" came into frequent usage during the recent Bush administration. Bush and Cheney never lost an opportunity to instill fear in the American people by telling them that every Democratic proposal would serve to embolden the terrorists. Well, I became emboldened to increase my usage of improvisational songs during my trip. And the results were overwhelmingly positive.

During one performance, I only had access to a piano rather than my customary guitar, and although I'm a pretty mediocre pianist, I managed to play four improv tunes in a row with excellent results. No doubt about it, I was thoroughly emboldened.

I'm thinking of doing an experiment in which I make up songs all day and into the night for a week and recording the results. When I'm writing a song, sometimes the process of trying to find just the right word or phrase is laborious and unrewarding. Many top songwriters say that their best songs have come in a flash. Maybe it is possible to create better songs without the angst. Like the modern art pieces which involve the dubious technique of throwing paint on the canvas, perhaps meaningful songs can be created in a similar manner. I need to give this a try.

Booking Time in the Studio

2010-03-07T09:14:00.001-08:00

I'm ready to get back to the recording studio. It's been three years since releasing "Party of One" and despite the many distractions in my life, I've managed to cobble together enough new material to justify the return trip. This is exciting stuff for me. Here's the plan:
1. Make rough working recordings of my new songs and send them down to Gary White, my producer and longtime friend, so that we can brainstorm about how best to present each song.
2. Set a work schedule that will include booking time in an LA recording studio.
3. Arrive a day or two before our sessions begin to work through pre-production issues.
4. Complete the basic tracking sessions and head back to Eugene.
5. Work with Bill Barnett at Gung Ho Studio in Eugene to complete the vocal work and mix the songs.

After that, it's a simple matter of getting the songs mastered, arranging for the artwork and manufacture of the cd's, and voila! My third full-length recording project will be complete. This is no small achievement for me and I will be very pleased once its done. It's a lot of work, some parts of the process are tedious. But some parts are great fun. It is hard to describe the special pleasure which occurs in the studio at the moment a tune you have written suddenly transforms into a fully formed, radio-ready song. Some songs never quite get there, but when an arrangement begins to click, it's like magic in real time.

One of my favorite musicians, Richard Thompson, performed in Eugene last week and his current bass player, Taras Prodaniuk, has become a good friend after working with me on my first two records. Talented and gracious, Taras seemed genuinely enthusiastic about working with me on this new project. Before working with Thompson, Taras worked for years with Lucinda Williams, and before that, Dwight Yoakum. His musical sensibilities seem beautifully suited for the sort of compositions I tend to write.

Spring is coming, and somehow it seems perfect that my new recording project is being launched now. Chances are good that I will call the new record "Seize the Day", making the song I wrote recently in Jamaica (for more on that, read my blog post of December 19) the title cut. In making this new record, I guess you could say I'm following my own advice.

Super Sunday Arrives Again

2010-02-07T09:37:00.001-08:00

When did Super Bowl Sunday become a national holiday? Certainly not in 1967 when the dorky sounding Super Bowl was born. I mean come on, the AFL was second rate back then. To the surprise of no one, the Packers won big. I was just a kid, but I still remember the post-game press conference with Vince Lombardi being goaded into admitting that AFL champion Kansas City Chiefs couldn't compete in the NFL.
I suppose the 4th of July celebration in 1777 didn't amount to much either.
But give us Americans a reason to celebrate and by God we'll take it. The best holidays involve widespread drinking starting early in the day. And in a dreary month like February, who doesn't want that?
As I write these important thoughts, I haven't had my first one yet, but hey, it's only 9:30 in the morning. I'll get started soon enough.
The real turning point for the Super Bowl, as we all know, came in 1969 when Joe Namath's brash prediction of victory for his New York Jets came true. In that instant, the AFL established its legitimacy and boy did we start paying attention. The television ratings ascended, corporations dished out crazy money for ads and in a few short years, the Super Bowl became an American institution. Never mind that most of the games were blowouts. The game was secondary to the function of the Super Bowl: giving America an excuse to drink like crazy.
As the NFL has evolved into an increasingly corporate entity, their leadership sometimes slips and refers to the games as their "product". Nothing like turning a national pastime into another kind of widget.
This year we get The Who at halftime. But you knew that already, having been exposed to the relentless pregame build-up for two weeks.
Speaking of The Who, did you know that the NFL is claiming a trademark on the expression "Who Dat". Seriously. They have been serving cease and desist orders on New Orleans t-shirt shops selling shirts with the express "Who Dat", claiming that they're infringing on the NFL's exclusive right to market New Orleans Saints (and every other teams) stuff. As an attorney, I know a stretch when I see one, and it doesn't take an attorney to identify the distinctive aroma of such pathetic bullshit.
Not that I consider the NFL an evil empire---the fact is, they raise money for many worthy causes and they generate a very entertaining, uh, product. I really hope this years game between the Saints (the perennial loser Saints!) and the Colts is a doozie. And that I'm still awake at the end.

Elvis At 75: The King In Perspective

2010-01-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

The King is dead. Long live the King. Dead since 1977, life seems eternal for Elvis Presley in western pop culture. Two days ago, he would have celebrated his 75th birthday. Chances are you've heard all about it. "Elvis Presley, that rare breed of talent that comes along maybe three times a century...." At the risk of blasphemy, I find myself wondering what all the fuss is really about.

Let's start by acknowledging that Elvis was a groundbreaking performer who electrified and galvanized a hungry, bored, white American audience starting in 1956. He infused rock 'n roll songs with a style and energy not previously seen. His hip movements alone created such a stir that worried parents sought legislation to censor the King, adding to the legend. Aside from The Beatles, I can't think of another musical act that has seized the attention of teenage America which such sudden, pandemic enthusiasm.

For several years, we couldn't get enough of it. The King's fame survived a two year hiatus in the military and launched a successful acting career despite Elvis' limited talents as a thespian (here, I am defining success strictly on a box-office basis; the movies ranged in quality from mediocre to wretched). Once his four or five years as a chart-topping singer passed, he still managed an occasional second tier hit. Thanks to Las Vegas and two much publicized television specials, he managed to parlay his earlier fame into a state of tremendous financial security. And somehow, in spite of weight gain, a conspicuous tendency toward personal overindulgence and obscenely garish wardrobe choices, his hold over a large, loyal audience has continued to this day with no end in sight.

Why does the memory of Elvis have such staying power? As an artist, he never wrote a hit song (it is widely acknowledged that on the 8 songs where he is listed as co-writer, he made no contributions). His guitar skills were so modest that early in his career, he ditched the instrument. Even his breakout performances of rock songs such as "Hound Dog" are clearly derivative of performances by black artists that went unnoticed by white America. And young Elvis' incendiary performance style has nothing on Cab Calloway's wildest musical histrionics from the 30's.

But that's just it. In Elvis, America was exposed to something new, exciting and slightly terrifying---a white man playing black music without inhibition. And since so few had heard such music, and boy were we ready for something new, history was made. So to the musical geniuses that followed (Buddy Holly, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and many more, guys who actually could write songs, play instruments, offer dazzling performances and expand the genre), as great as they all were, at the end of the day, Elvis stands alone as a cultural icon.

Of course we overlook his personal shortcomings. Most musicians have enough baggage to make a politician blush. But focusing strictly on Elvis' musical contributions, and comparing them with those of his contemporaries, is it unfair of me to suggest that his legacy is disproportionate to his body of work? Does it seem just that this performer is widely described as a talent so transcendent as to come along but three times in a century? For those who subscribe to this view, I respectfully beg to differ.

A short list of those whose contributions to music since the time of Elvis who, in my book, deserve equal or better recognition for their contributions to our musical heritage:
1. Bob Dylan
2. John Lennon
3. Paul McCartney
4. Bruce Springsteen
5. Jagger/Richards
6. U2
7. Buddy Holly
8. Jimi Hendrix
9. Clapton in all forms (solo, Cream, Derek & the Dominoes, etc)
10. Bob Marley
11. Paul Simon
12. Ray Charles
13. Fats Domino
14. Michael Jackson

You could even make a case that Elvis is not the most musically worthy or talented guy by the name of Elvis, because damn, Elvis Costello is outstanding! I could go on. I'll stop. I rest my case. May the King rest in peace.

Musical Progress---Thank You Jamaica

2009-12-19T09:27:00.000-08:00

I've been waiting patiently for a musical resurgence. In earlier posts, I talked about "all the obstacles in my way" and it's no coincidence that I'm channeling lyrics from a classic reggae tune here since I just got back from Jamaica, which is where the resurgence occurred.
How did it start? I think it was on the beach when a trickle of lyrics and the nucleus of a song idea popped into my brain. Before long, an exciting new song was taking shape. "Seize the Day" is the title. It's a tune that's long on adult inspiration and positive values, just the sort of topic that swirls around my subconscious a lot these days as I come to terms with the notion of embracing my new age group. Most of my favorite songs include universal messages. "Seize the Day" is all about the universal. And it's built around a soulful guitar passage which kicks off the tune and repeats at the end of each refrain. I like songs that do that too.
Is that all I needed for my resurgence? Nope. I needed more, and I got it. Several performance opportunities came my way, and in the process, many new friendships were formed and a slew of perfect strangers embraced my musical with genuine enthusiasm. Three nights in Jamaica I held center stage and all three nights were magical and memorable.
Then, just a day before we needed to head home, another song popped into my head. And unlike typical song ideas which rarely result in a fully formed song, and when they do, it usually takes weeks or months for the song to evolve into a finished piece, this song was that rare kind which was essentially complete in twenty minutes. In my experience, the songs that come quickly are often the best.
Suddenly, I am committed to recording a new set of songs in 2010. I was slow to realize that there would be a beautiful rhythm to this since my first cd was released in 2004 and my second in 2007. That would make me one of those folks who puts out a new collection of songs once every three years. That notion holds a lot of appeal for me. And suddenly, it seems eminently do-able.
It's as if my patience with music, and my frustrations over the fact that the role of music has recently retreated from my life somewhat, has suddenly been answered in the best way possible. For that, and for many other reasons, I am wishing myself right now, and all of you too, the best of season's greetings and a Happy Happy Happy New Year---may 2010 rock for all of us!

It Was Neither the Best Nor Worst of Times

2009-11-22T17:21:00.000-08:00

Charles Dickens wrote it 150 years ago. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." It must have seemed true when he said it, just as it has often seemed true throughout the course of our lives. Why? The answer must relate to the glass half empty/half full conundrum. Which isn't really so much a conundrum as it is a metaphor about the power of perspective.
In any given moment, we see terrible possibilities for mankind and with good reason. These "glass half empty" thoughts lend powerful support to the notion that it is truly the worst of times. But then something inevitably happens to reinforce the opposite point of view. Whenever I hear Louis Armstrong's "It's A Wonderful World", for example, or "Imagine", my mental state transforms. Instantly, I am full of hope, a veritable fountain of good will. Welcome to the best of times.
Perhaps it is because we only experience life in the present. There is a drama queen within us all, and the average inner drama queen wants to make you think about the worst and best of all possibilities all the time. Actually, I think there are two inner drama queens within us, and they engage in a constant battle with one another. The good DQ wants you to think these are damn sure the very very best of times while the bad DQ wants to freak you out with worry.
The other day, my stepson encountered a man carrying a sign which read "THE END IS NEAR!" He asked the man a profound question: "And why does that bother you so much?" Which proves that one man's worst of times can be another's best of times---it's all a matter of perspective.
"A Tale of Two Cities" was released by Charles Dickens in 37 weekly installments in 1859. The final installment was released on November 25, 1859 which is nearly 150 years ago today. According to one source, 200 million copies were sold in English, more than any other book printed in the English language.
The opening line is so memorable and has been repeated with such frequency that many forget the equally good lines which follow.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way."

I imagine that during World War II, it must have felt like the worst of times. And when the war ended, it must have felt like the best of times. During the Bush administration, it seemed like the worst of times and yet, I had some of my best life experiences during those eight years. We should accept that it is neither the worst nor best of times at any given moment. That perspective seems, to me, as both a healthy and truthful outlook. It calls upon us to reflect upon history more carefully, always a good thing. It requires us to identify the many positive, helpful things and people we are surrounded by that we often take for granted.
Thank you Mr. Dickens. You continue to enlighten us, long after your departure. Such is the power of words well chosen and ideas well articulated.

Weekly or Monthly?

2009-11-15T14:19:00.000-08:00

How much is too much? How little is too little? The frequency of my postings is on a slide. No, a free fall is more like it. I'd like to think that with fewer postings comes increased quality of content. But I know that isn't true.

Here's the deal. My blog retreat can be directly traced to an explosion in the time I'm spending in this all-consuming activity of green development. My approach to this undertaking is definitely hands on. To use poker vernacular, I guess you'd say I'm all in. And the risks are terrifying. If I wasn't so confident that I was doing a good thing for our community and that ultimately, the fruits of my labor will reward me in a reasonable way, I would just say no.

This activity doesn't tolerate a half hearted approach. To overlook key details is to invite failure. I feel that I've worked too long and too hard to expose myself to a negative outcome in this new endeavor.

My commitment to overseeing my building projects, both from the standpoint of time and risk, is too large to allow time for other things I'd like to do. As a result, I'm performing less, blogging less, traveling less, running less, and the list goes on. But I'm willing to make these sacrifices because what I'm doing, for the most part, seems worth it. I sure don't enjoy explaining this to folks who ask when my next gig is. Still, I'm touched by the number of inquiries I've received.

To them and to you, now hear this: soon my projects will be done. And when they are completed, I plan to resist any urge I may feel to do more. That's when I'll resume my favorite activities like performing, writing new songs, record, travel and tour, and who knows what else. In the meantime, I appreciate your indulgence as this blog shifts into a once-a-month sort of affair.

Blog Sabbatical Ends--Read All About It

2009-10-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's over. My blog sabbatical, that is. I'm not sure who that Mica guy in the picture is, but the "He's Back" sign says it all. My apologies, dear readers, for failing to announce my sabbatical in advance. I've long admired college professors for their ability to take sabbaticals. I decided to indulge myself. Or maybe I just got lazy or too busy with other stuff or found myself running out of topics worthy of your time and attention. Whatever the case, I'm draping my MIA period with a cloak of respectability by calling it a blog sabbatical. If my absence has let anyone down, hopefully this distinguished sounding excuse will make amends. I apologize. There, I said it.

Theoretically, sabbaticals allow one time to conduct research, make progress on new projects while unencumbered by the routine demands of employment and emerge from this period refreshed and reinvigorated. My sabbatical experience fell somewhat short of accomplishing these lofty ideals, but there were some good times. I literally climbed a mountaintop, a near vertical granite spire in the Canadian Rockies, to be precise. Yup, the one in the picture. I played music, entertaining folks from far and wide. But mostly, I toiled in fulfillment of my daily responsibilities back home in Eugene.

Am I refreshed? Uh, not really. But I stand prepared to make this commitment to you (not a promise, just a soft, fluffy "commitment", and a rather feeble one at that). My commitment is this: once again, I will provide blog content on a semi-regular basis starting now. Yes, you can read it all here, well-crafted prose drenched with meaningful literary content, rich with irony and sarcasm, self-aggrandizing blather about our life (ok, MY life) and times. Why bother reading the New York Times or the Washington Post op-ed pages when you can just read this instead. OK, I can't equal Garrison Keillor, but the rest of those guys, they've got nothing on me, especially now that I'm reinvigorated and refreshed. Look out Thomas Freidman and Charles Krugman, and especially those arrogant, self-important ones, guys like Charles Krauthammer and George Will. Now that I'm back, like phoenix rising from the ashes, you, my friends, are toast.

Birther Blather

2009-08-16T16:49:00.000-07:00

Will the real Republicans please stand up? Who are the real Republicans these days anyway? Certainly the Birthers number themselves as Republicans but many in the party are reluctant to claim them. And it's easy to understand why given that the Birthers claim that Obama was born in Kenya is supported by no evidence whatsoever.

It is satisfying at some level to see that the Republican ranks include at least some folks who appreciate how foolish one looks when they go public with something as outlandish as the Birthers do.

Maybe what happened in the 2000 election warped their brains permanently. Emboldened by Bush's success in being declared president after losing the general election and having his brother steal the critical Florida electoral vote, the Birthers must figure that every election is theirs for the taking. In their minds, I guess electoral success depends so little on actual voting and so much on gaming the system. Unless of course you are a Republican who actually won an election, in which case, no further inquiry is needed, a la 2004, in which the Democrats showed considerable discretion in not making a big fuss about the peculiar goings on in Ohio.

If the Birthers had any power, they would be truly dangerous. Oh, wait, some Birthers DO have power. Heaven help us.

Shame on mainstream media, Lou Dobbs comes to mind, for dignifying this non-story with coverage. Even the crazies at Fox thought better of it.

Consider how such controversies might be avoided in the future, from a Birther perspective. Apparently having a birth certificate coupled with a media announcement of a birth is insufficient to establish proof of birth in America. Better take away those Birther passports to safeguard against the possibiliy that they might be illegal immigrants.

I suggest that parents who aspire for their children to be future presidents arrange for live births to be videotaped, witnessed by at least two unbiased properly certified verifying witnesses and a lawyer or two.

What a great country this is. Between the Birthers and the screamers who like to disrupt community meetings so that we can't conduct public discussions about universal health care, it's clear that freedom still rings around here, but the problem is that the sound is generally inferior to that of silence.

Apple Changes Everything

2009-08-03T21:22:00.000-07:00

Apples have always had a special appeal. Early on, it was the fruit. Going way back, in fact, wasn't Adam's inability to resist the apple closely related, in some obscure way, to his inability to refrain from dipping early humankinds ink into the well of Eve, or something like that? Shame on apples.

When The Beatles formed their record label, they called it Apple Records. Unfortunately, things didn't work out so well for the fledgling label. Turns out that in the record business, having the most popular band in the world is no substitute for having, well, I'm not sure what. Apple's A&R people signed James Taylor, for one, but they lacked the business acumen to make the enterprise profitable.

The Beatles spent plenty to make the Apple Store in London the coolest retail establishment on the planet, but that wasn't enough to keep things afloat, bottom line-wise. The Beatles were damn poor businessmen, and like most pop superstars, their financial fortunes were compromised by self-serving managers.

Despite insider exploitation, the swollen Beatles pie was sufficiently engorged to insure that everyone had enough to get by, and oddly, when Paul casually remarked to his friend Michael Jackson about the financial benefits of investing in publication rights and MJ took the advice, Paul was angered by Jackson's decision to act on his advice. Now, strangely, whoever prevails in the blood feud over Jackson's estate will own the publication royalties for most of the Lennon-McCartney musical library, an asset worth billions over time.

Now, back to Apple. Well, the record label has been dead for decades. But Steve Jobs' Apple grows stronger every year. And what started as a computer company now generates unbelievable profits from music.

Consider the strange journey of the apple. Among the fruit, vegetable, poultry and meat products on our planet, throw in the seafood, vegan and dessert food groups too, nobody can touch Apple. How weird is that?

As an Oregonian, I feel a special connection to apples. Some of the world's finest are grown in Oregon. And I feel a powerful connection to The Beatles, my favorite band of all time. And to Adam because, after all, who can't relate to his urgings to bite the apple, if you know what I mean. At the moment, I'm listening the Beatles Radio on iTunes, courtesy of Apple and I'm loving it.

Red on the outside. White on the inside. Full of sweet, juicy fruit. Beautiful to behold. Symbolic of so much of the best of our peculiar world, but like all superior things, partly flawed and in some ways perhaps more appealing because of it. Bless the apple.

Jo Feds Is Dead

2009-07-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

It was a swingin' hot spot. For over twenty years, Jo Feds was a major part of the music scene in Eugene. Now it's doors are closed, another victim of our sputtering economy. Around here, folks mourn the passage of Jo Feds.

Sometimes musical venues close because they become passe, failing to change with the times. Jo Feds closure wasn't like that. Jo Feds had become venerable in a good way. Nationally, we are seeing an epidemic of restaurants and night clubs going dark. Bailout money isn't available for such folks, but maybe it should be.

I guess the problem is that night clubs don't pass the "too big to fail" test. We seldom stop to consider that the owners of musical venues are, in a way, curators of the arts. And when it's time to make cutbacks in personal spending, art is usually the first item on the chopping block, along with high-priced meals at fancy restaurants.

Such reductions in spending come at a steep cost to our communities. Beyond the unemployed waiters and cooks, as our palette of restaurants and clubs diminishes, local culture becomes increasingly bland. Collectively, we pay a higher price than we think when our nighttime entertainment choices disappear.

For me, personally, the closure of Jo Feds came one week before a Friday night gig I was scheduled to play there. Last year, another prominent Eugene night spot where I had performed many times, Luna Jazz Club, faded into history. I suppose I'm as guilty as the next guy of not doing enough to support such establishments. To lament the passage of musical venues which, after all, are businesses, while failing to adequately nurture them is to exalt sentimentality over pragmatism. Yet the loss of anything one cares about inevitably evokes an emotional response, so we are to be forgiven.

At the same time, there are lessons to be learned and they aren't hard to figure out. First, we should appreciate our favorite night spots more BEFORE they vanish from the scene. Second, our methods of appreciation should involve going there frequently and spending money, as much as we can afford. Jo Feds is dead, but not forgotten, and the best way to honor the memory of places we care about is to preserve the survivors.

One Hundred and Counting

2009-06-29T08:25:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my 100th blog post. In accordance with journalistic tradition, I will exploit this moment with a brief retrospective in which I subtly congratulate myself for my oh so notable contributions to the blogosphere.

This blog was launched in October of 2007 with the modest ambition of providing those interested in my music with a means of learning more about the, uh hum, artist behind the music. I was advised to post something at least once a week and preferably at the same time each week. In this way, I was told, I would maximize my prospects for gaining a wider audience and thereby elevate my profile as a musician.

Pretty soon I found myself missing deadlines. Since I didn't have the budget to hire an editor to remind me, or threaten to fire me, I eventually became quite random in my posting activity. But that didn't stop me from making a genuine, earnest attempt to write about things that mattered to me and to write in a style which accurately reflects my inscrutable personality.

When I launched this blog, I had no idea where it would take me, and I'm not sure I cared. To be clear, I harbored no illusions that this blog would lead to anything. I was dubious about the advice I received that by blogging, new musical doors would open. And sure enough, I cannot say that this blog has led to anything tangible. But in the process of writing, I have found an outlet for my creative energy which I truly enjoy. OK, I'll admit that it's more thrilling to write songs I can record and perform than it is to write in this forum. But still, I cannot deny the sense that the body of work this blog represents means something to me. Strangely, and quite unexpectedly, this blog has become a sort of mirror I can hold up to myself.

If it means something to you too, then my satisfaction is multiplied exponentially. Over the course of these 100 posts, my greatest source of satisfaction is how the world has changed for the better with the replacement of an inept, dangerous president with Barack Obama. I also see that for me personally, my musical activities have subsided as the time demands of my green building projects have increased. While this saddens me somewhat, I find satisfaction in developing architecturally interesting, sustainable building projects which benefit neighborhoods and the community.

Music remains an important, vital part of my life. This month I am playing more shows than I have in months with several gigs around Oregon. I'm just completing a song entitled "Truth and Justice". In it, I elaborate on the nature of our judicial process based upon three decades of experience as a public defender. I have almost enough material for my third full length record and I'm in the early stages of planning trips to Europe, Australia and New Zealand which will include a series of performances. All of this brings me considerable satisfaction.

In short, I'm planning to stick around for a while. If you'll hang with me, I'll do my best to make it worth your while. Thanks to you all.

The Shifting Relevance of Blogs

2009-06-09T08:02:00.001-07:00

When I started this blog in October of '07, the blogosphere was exploding. Along with social networking, blogs had become the next big thing. As I write this post, my ninety ninth, I can't help but wonder where things are heading.

Some say there are now too many blogs. Point taken. Like the fictional, laid-off career journalist with the Washington Post featured in Doonesberry, bloggers must face a discouraging reality. There is so much content out there, readership is hard to come by. Better get used to it.

Many bloggers use their blog as a means of keeping friends and family informed of their lives, right? Such diary blogs hold no interest, of course, to anyone unfamiliar with their creator.

Like unemployed actors working as waiters, unemployed journalists have taken to the blogosphere in droves. Where else can they ply their trade? The new media has no place for the traditional approach of slogging manuscripts around to publishers.

Luckily, as a person not dependent on the ability to turn written material into cash, I am not feeling the pressure. This probably explains why my contributions to this blog arrive randomly and unpredictably. Thanks for bearing with me. You ARE bearing with me, right?

My next blog post will mark a milestone for Americana Dan. Careful readers were tipped off in paragraph one of this post, oh, and the not too subtle 99th birthday cake photograph, to the upcoming momentous event. The new post will be number ONE HUNDRED!!! Getting into triple digits is, to me, a big deal. Sure, my late brother Steve, author of over 4000 (yes, four thousand) columns for the Chicago Sun Times and the Chicago Tribune would have no reason to be impressed, and probably you don't either. But hey, when I started this thing, I gave little thought to the possibility that I would remain committed to this undertaking for so long. I guess I must like the opportunity this forum presents for me to say whatever I want. Again, thank you all for checking in from time to time. I'll keep doing my best to make it worth your while.

"Songwriter Denies Harvard Killing"

2009-05-23T09:18:00.000-07:00

"Songwriter Denies Harvard Killing"? What kind of headline is that? Well, there it was in this morning's newspaper---a headline implying that songwriters are a violent, murderous lot. Maybe the fact that I'm a songwriter heightens my sensitivity to this notion. Or could it be the songwriters are the new butlers, as in, "the butler did it!" Have songwriters become the default suspect of highest interest?

Imagine the police briefing. "Violent crime is on the rise. Round up the usual suspects. Yea, the songwriters. And don't forget the poets. We've got to rid the city of that scum. Nobody's safe with them around."

"Songwriter Denies Harvard Killing". Awfully suspicious that a songwriter was anywhere near Harvard. I mean songwriters aren't exactly known for having Ivy League educations.

Of course the songwriter denies it. Everybody accused of murder denies it. You want a more shocking headline? How about "Songwriter Admits Harvard Killing"? Songwriters might not be that well educated, but they're smart enough to follow their lawyers advice, even if they killed someone in the proverbial broad daylight in front of a busload of vigilant nuns

Got a cold case, a la Miami: CSI? I suggest you check the entertainment listings, see who had a gig in town that night. Remember the Talking Heads song "Psycho Killer"? Maybe David Byrne's lyrics are a window into the schizophrenic mind of your average songwriter.

Sure, songwriters look all innocent with their artsy clothes and gentle manner, especially the folkies. Nothing like a good disguise to lead the authorities off-track. Beware the songwriter. You never know what unspeakable acts of random violence were performed by the innocuous looking dude with the acoustic guitar.

The Days of Swine and Roses

2009-05-05T08:12:00.001-07:00

Be afraid. Or not. It might kill you, but it probably won't, even if you catch it. Swine flu is upon us and I'm so uncertain what to think of it. So many news items play to our fears. After all, fear sells. But most of the time, our fears are unrealized, thank goodness.

Not long ago, the word "pandemic" was not part of my vocabulary. Now, it seems that next to WMD's (an acronym known only to a few before 9/11), pandemics are the biggest threat to mankind. So be afraid people.

How best to prepare for the swine pandemic? I'm surprised that fallout shelters aren't making a comeback. Because when the Big Pandemic hits, isolation is surely the key to your survival. Stock up on water and duct tape. Lots of duct tape. Because if you're in your fallout shelter and your companion blathers all the time, duct tape might save you from insanity.

While we're on the topic of things that might kill us, did you know that from time to time, the sun goes a little whacky? In 1859, a solar storm from our very own sun caused telegraph wires in the US and Europe to stop working. Somehow, this caused a number of fires.

Scientists now predict that in 2012, we may experience a similar solar storm but the results, they say, are certain to be catastrophic. Our satellite systems will stop functioning which, in turn, will disrupt global transportation and communication. Our world will be less safe, and you guessed it, lots of people will die.

So many things that can lead to the end of the world as we know it. I just love the REM song about that. Michael Stipe singings "It's the end of the world, as we know it, and I feel fine". Especially when the sun is shining and its beautiful outside, like it is right now in Oregon. Incidentally, ever notice how you feel a lot more safe and secure the less time you spend listening to Fox News?

Fear makes me sad. What has fear ever done for you? Mostly, fear succeeds in making people more aware that life offers too little hope and too much misery. This is one of mankind's biggest shortcomings compared to the animal world. Animals have keen fear instincts that kick in when it really matters. I loved learning that before tsunamis hit shore, the birds are long gone. They don't waste brainpower worrying about lethal forces that will almost certainly never strike. How unfortunate that human brains are so morosely preoccupied with far fetched impending death scenarios, yet so incapable of sensing mortal threats right before them.

Hope you don't catch the swine flu, but if you do, I'm telling you your prospects for survival are good. Very good.

James McMurtrey

2009-04-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

Last night, James McMurtrey was in town. I hadn't seen him since the 90's and whenever I hear his stuff on the radio, I take notice. With a flat, deadpan delivery reminiscent of Lou Reed, McMurtrey grabs your attention with his highly literate, powerfully descriptive lyrics. Who else does that?

Sure, there are plenty of great lyricists, starting with Bob Dylan, of course. My short list would include John Hiatt, Paul Simon, Jackson Browne on a good day and for me, the newest member of this elite club is John Mayer who seems to have it all. But none of them can touch McMurtrey's unique take on life in America today.

James McMurtrey is the consummate American storyteller, a modern day Mark Twain. Part poetry, part satire, all heart. If he wrote regular weekly columns, I would read every word. But he doesn't, and perhaps that's good because it forces him to distill 100% of his creative genius into the lyrics of comparatively few songs.

When I saw McMurtrey in the 90's, he was just getting started. He played serviceable guitar, plenty adequate to support his tunes. Last night, he was a guitar powerhouse. At times, he sounded like Neil Young AND Crazyhorse. Accompanied by a bassist and a drummer, the threesome generated a quality of rock you seldom find with so few players. This was the Austin sound at its finest.

Makes me want to spend a lot more time there. Every Wednesday night, when he's not on tour, McMurtrey plays The Continental Club in Austin. Seeing him at The Continental would be enough to justify the trip. If James comes to your hometown or someplace nearby, do not miss the chance to see him. And if you aren't familiar with his stuff, check him out.

Cigars and Mojitos: It's Cuba Time

2009-04-19T11:33:00.000-07:00

For Cuba, change is arriving. The blockade is still in place, at least for now, but thanks to President Obama, US relations with Cuba are finally starting to thaw. Upon hearing news of the announcement, it took Raul Castro about 90 minutes to call Obama to express his gratitude and to suggest that they talk.

It's about time. Cuba stopped being a threat to the US decades ago. A succession of US presidents from both parties insisted on preserving the outdated status quo. Although the embargo lives in, it is clearly living on borrowed time.

What does this mean for America? Not much. We'll soon have legal access to Cuban cigars, something which means very little to me. And chances are that the rosters of major league baseball teams will start to include more Cuban players.

Mostly, this is huge news in Cuba. Once the embargo is lifted, Cuba's economic opportunities will rise. This is good and necessary for the long-suffering Cuban people. Their initial enthusiasm over Castro and the Revolution steadily eroded as they realized that the promises of Communism were mostly empty.

As noted in an earlier blog, Cubans have perhaps the most musical culture on the planet. Their rhythms and energy exude joy and a sense of community not found elsewhere. They move, dance and sing with a unique feeling. As more folks get exposure to Cuban music, and for that matter, other Cuban art forms, the world will appreciate what Cuba has to offer.

And isn't it interesting that Barack Obama is on good speaking terms with Hugo Chavez? Spring is here and I can't help but enjoy that fresh scent in the air, one I always associate with the promise of bright, new beginnings.

Maria and Me

2009-04-11T11:45:00.001-07:00

We weren't close, that's for sure. Maria Mutola was the greatest female 800 meter runner of all time. When she moved from Mozambique to Eugene, Oregon (ok, it was Springfield, to be precise) at the age of 16, she was already famous in certain quarters. The reason for her teenage fame? Running. She went to the 1988 Olympics in the 800m run at the age of 15 representing Mozambique.

It was common enough in gymnastics for girls of that age to make the Olympics, but not in track and field. Even though her performance in the Seoul Olympics was remarkable only for her age, she was destined for greatness and everybody knew it.

A strange quirk of fate caused her to move to Eugene in 1990 where she attended Springfield High School whose track coach, Margo Jennings, was a friend. Soon Margo made the wise choice to have Maria work out with older, male runners with experience on the international circuit. Maria's talents were too much for her high school teammates. Margo turned to my running partner, Ed Spinney, a sub-four minute miler who had competed in Europe before becoming an attorney in Eugene. Ed worked in my office for almost a decade and I had the chance to run with Ed Spinney on a few thousand occasions. Although as a runner I was more enthusiastic than talented, in the process of running with Ed, I became a lot tougher and faster, but never nearly as fast as Ed.

This happenstance permitted me to meet Maria and train with her on occasion. There's something about running together for miles that breaks down barriers, and over time, I got to know her in spite of her shyness. I had no chance to keep up with her in shorter distances, but on longer training runs, I held my own.

In the years that followed, she won Olympic medals, including the gold medal in the 2000 Sydney Olympics. She won many world championships. She was the top-ranked 800 meter runner in the world for the better part of her 16 year career, and when she finally decided to retire from competitive running last summer, her accomplishments were so far beyond those of every other 800 meter runner in history that no rationale person could debate the issue.

Several times in the height of her career I had the chance to enjoy casual evenings with her and a few others over dinner at the home of her sometime trainer, Jack Scott. Although at that point, she was financially secure and internationally famous in track, her sense of self had not become inflated.

Maria's physique set her apart from others, with shoulders remarkably broad and rippling with muscle. Running foes tried to diminish her accomplishments by hinting at steroid use, pointing to her musculature as proof. They hadn't seen what I had---she was built that way at age 16, long before she would have had access to performance enhancing drugs.

The longevity of her career and the steadiness of her performances on the track were unparalleled. She ran every race as though arriving at the finish line first was her purpose for living. Such competitiveness, such passion for victory, is rare because the price one must pay in terms of physical suffering is considerable. Most people cannot will themselves to go there ever, and those who manage to summon the ultimate effort on occasion cannot achieve such effort with the consistency, the single-mindedness of purpose, that became Maria's trademark.

In high school, attempts to prevent her from competing at the high school level were made, successfully, and the memory of this and other scornful acts directed at this gifted child from Africa sickens me still. No doubt, such early encounters with people who tried to marginalize her helps to account for both her shyness and her tenacity.

I don't know what retirement holds for Maria, but I suspect she will give as much back to the people of Mozambique as possible. She is a hero there, Mozambique's only international sporting celebrity, and Maria is not one to ignore her roots, which explains why she moved from her comfortable existence in my community back to Africa. I consider myself quite fortunate to have met someone as remarkable as Maria Mutola. Thank you, Maria, for the memories of watching you in competition, and for the opportunity to know the equally splendid person behind the championship performances.

Paper or Plastic: The Newspaper Crisis

2009-03-21T09:18:00.000-07:00

I prefer paper when it comes to news. Most folks under thirty choose internet news. Who can blame them? First and foremost, it's free. It reduces paper usage big time and is therefore green. And news hits online before coming out in print, so online junkies are often the first to receive breaking news.

Newspaper are going broke. The business model of newspaper is dying a quick, merciless death. Advertising revenue is down. Readership is down. Newspaper efforts to generate revenue online have failed.

I lament the loss of newspapers because the quality of American journalism is high. Once papers are gone, we won't find a substitute news source with anywhere near the professionalism of the print media. Voices like Limbaugh's will gain even greater traction and this is the last thing our democracy needs.

Television can't fill the void, and online news sources fall far short of the content available through the press. Where does that leave us? Nowhere good. Collectively, we will be rely on less data, and worse data, in forming opinions about important matters of public policy.

We will be too easily fooled and that's the real problem.

Too bad we've gotten so accustomed to expecting everything for free on the internet. Despite its many blessings, constant online access has its downsides and the suffocation of the newspaper industry heads the list.

How to stem this tide? Congress is considering legislation which would allow newspapers to become non-profit corporations and thereby receive more favorable tax treatment. The reduction of their taxes may allow them to remain afloat but that step would come at a large cost: non-profits are not allowed to make recommendations about elections. So much for freedom of the press.

Without a major change in consumer spending patterns, newspapers are done. I can't help but wonder, though, why newspapers are less deserving of Congressional bailouts than, say, AIG or GM or Bank of America. So write your congressman today and recommend that the newspapers get some of that bailout money. Save the fourth estate. The quality of our democracy depends on it.

Blogger's Block or What?

2009-03-15T18:08:00.000-07:00

Blogger's block, the e-equivalent of writer's block, seems to have struck me. Thinking I had at least created a clever new phrase, I checked online and was disappointed to see that the term "blogger's block" is far from original. Sigh.

It's easy to find reasons to avoid writing a new blog post. Let's see, there's my day job, my music activities, the economy, chores around the house, social engagements, stuff I need to read, a movie I want to watch, a workout that's long overdue, family members I haven't called in a while, our dog Petey wants and deserves my attention, ditto times 100 for my lovely, patient wife, a car that needs washing, and so on. In short, plenty of other things interfere with my commitment to Americana Dan.

When I started this blog, I was a reliable weekly blogger. I've become spotty. Could be it's time for a renewal of my blogging vows. But I hate to make a promise I won't keep.

Maybe I could use some blog counseling. Or try to get Americana Dan to agree that we should start seeing other people. Or something like that.

After giving it some thought, I've decided that all I need is a minor attitude adjustment. No sense feeling guilty if I don't post anything for a week or two, right? Why shouldn't I feel ok about posting when the urge strikes but not otherwise? If anybody out there thinks this is a bad idea, please let me know. I'm reaching out to you, my beloved readers, with an open mind, actively soliciting your input. More than anything, I don't want to let you down. I've got a feeling I won't, and trusting that if I do, you will let me know.

The Perils of Bowling

2009-02-22T09:55:00.001-08:00

Did you know that bowling can kill you? Bowling fatalities are rare but they do happen. Just last week I read a media report about an unfortunate bowling alley employee who died in the mechanical apparatus behind the pins.

Bowling mishaps of lesser severity are easily imagined. "Ouch, dropped the bowl on my toe!" "Whoops, smashed my fingers while retrieving my ball!" Things like that must happen all the time.

But fatalities? It turns out that the machinery behind the well-illuminated ivory ten-pins is a throwback to the industrial revolutions origins. Think meat-packing in Chicago in 1873 or George Orwell's "Animal Farm". Whatever you do, don't let your children grow up to be pin-setters!

Ever heard of extreme bowling? Take an ordinary bowling alley. Then turn down the lights, turn up the music and bowl the night away. Turns out that bowling fatalities multiply exponentially in the world of extreme bowling. Look it up.

I remember my grandfather and his fellow bowlers. They appreciated a night out with the boys, downing beers and rolling those beautiful, shiny balls down the laminated hardwood lanes like figure skaters on ice.

Turns out that idyllic fantasy blinded us all to the mayhem behind the lanes---bowling alley personnel carnage. Where oh where is OSHA. That's right, the Occupational Safety and Health Act and all those government employees whose responsibility it is to make the American workplace immune from injury and death?

Did you know there's a one-lane bowling alley in the White House? Former President Richard Nixon had it installed. Not at government expense. Oh no, it was paid for by Tricky Dick's friends who appreciated that government should not fund the frivolous leisure activities of government employees, not even the president. If only Nixon's moral compass has remained true to the ethic of privately funded bowling.

Subsequent presidents have made little use of Nixon's alley but W did. Some consider it unfortunate that Dick Cheney didn't take a stab at studying the internal mechanics of pin-setting.

Thank goodness ESPN doesn't pay much attention to bowling. Something about the "athletes" just doesn't measure up to the guys in the NFL or the NBA. Ever watched "Kingpen"? Now there's a bowling story worth seeing. My advice: If you should decide to take up bowling, whatever you do, don't pull a Munson.

Oregon's 150th Birthday: February 14, 2009

2009-02-14T19:05:00.000-08:00

Oregon just turned 150. Easterners shrug, especially those from the original 13 colonies. To them, Oregon is more like a distant cousin than a ruggedly handsome, more athletic younger brother. For any true Oregonian, our beloved state's 150th birthday is a big deal.

Oregonians, though, aren't the type to draw attention to themselves. So February 14, 2009 arrived mostly in a St. Valentine mood, even for Oregonians, few of whom seem acquainted with the bloated word "Sesquicentennial".

My first knowledge of sesquicentennials came in Texas. Folks from The Lone Star State are famously disinclined toward humility, an unfortunate fact from a Northwest perspective. Texans seemed determined to have their state's 150th birthday rank second only to "Remember the Alamo" on the top 10 list of Things Memorable About Texas.

Oregon's 150th was notable mainly for recognizing the role of Native Americans in the history of our state, complete with high ranking politicians offering them apologies and genuflections to assuage the social injustices of the mid-19th century. Of course, the Indian tribes of Oregon are now exceptionally well-funded, thanks to casinos, so they've got that going for them. And nobody suggested out loud that the political homage to them might somehow be related to their newfound prosperity. Oregonians are too polite for that.

The truth is, I love this state. As a native Oregonian, I'm in the minority. My ancestors came out west in covered wagons on the Oregon Trail in the 1840's, which makes me as Oregonian as a person can get. I've been fortunate to see much of the world, and I can't image living anywhere else. Our quality of life cannot be surpassed. Sure, the rainy winters can be dreary, but the turning of seasons builds character and helps measure the passage of time. That's what I tell myself. And my sun-loving wife, a native Oregonian herself, who benefits from the occasional reminder of this fact.

So Happy 150th Birthday Oregon! We know our slice of paradise is an acquired taste for some. We like the fact that Oregon is relatively undiscovered, like the undetected beauty of the girl in the back row with dorky sunglasses and her hair in pigtails. We prefer it that way.

The Danville Mystery

2009-02-07T09:04:00.000-08:00

Bet you didn't know the name "Dan" is special. I didn't either. And if any of the roughly 237 Dan's I've met over the course of my life knew it was special, they didn't say so. Which is a mystery unto itself. But that's not the mystery I'm blogging about today.

Ever heard of Danville? Nearly everyone can recall, at least when reminded, the memorable opening line of the song "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" by The Band, and later covered by Joan Baez (factoid: this song was the biggest hit of her career):

"Virgil Cain is my name and I drove on the Danville train...."

This was a song about the Civil War and at one time the Virginia town Danville was the headquarters of the Confederacy. The primary north-south train in the eastern United States ran through Danville. But why, I wondered, was the town Danville so named? Well, I learned, because it rests on the banks of the Dan River. OK, then why was the river named Dan? Nobody seems to know for sure.

Turns out that there many states that have Danvilles. They are located in Pennsylvania, Illinois, Kentucky, California, Georgia and for all I know there may be more of them.

Why are all these communities named after "Dan"? That's the mystery. I challenge anyone to find a good answer. I don't think you will.

Now consider this. How many other communities are named after a male's first name? You won't find any Billvilles, Jeffvilles, Bobvilles, Johnvilles, Stevevilles......I could go on but you get the point. Could it be that the name Dan is the subject of a well-guarded secret, like the Masonic rites or the silly bullshit in that Nicolas Cage movie The National Book of Treasures (here's another mystery---why do they make a sequel out of such a lame movie?).

When traveling in Israel last year, I was shocked to learn that Dan is big stuff in the Holy Land. Imagine my surprise when I found that my travel agent booked me into the Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv. It turned out that there's a whole chain of Dan Hotels there. Why? Because the Tribe of Dan was one of the original twelve tribes of the Holy Land. There you go. No mysteries in Israel about the reasons for the prominence of Dan.

But I find no evidence that the mysterious appearance of so many Danville's in the USA is even remotely related to the Tribe of Dan.

All great mysteries have spellbinding endings which neatly resolve the seemingly disconnected threads of the story in an unexpected, intellectually satisfying way. So it should be with The Danville Mystery. Maybe someday I'll write it if I can make any sense of it. For now, I've gotta say, I'm stumped. I guess I'll simply accept my mother's explanation. "Dan's are just plain special."

What's Next?

2009-02-04T20:32:00.000-08:00

All the build up. All the preparation. The result? Whew, wipe my brow and exhale deeply: This was very fulfilling, the culmination of all my efforts, a performance to meet or, dare I say it, exceed, my high expectations. I'm talking about last Saturday's performance at The Shedd in Eugene.
Thanks a bundle to all of you who showed up and made it a magical night. At the top of this list, I include my musical comrades: Brent and Gary from LA; Greg from Portland and Stan, Matt and Pete from Eugene.
Several earlier blog posts focused on this gig and how performances in your home town acquire a unique sort of importance. The thing is, when you're performing for friends and family, plus fans from your hometown, along with many people who've never seen you but have heard that it's worth their time, trouble and the price of admission, you want to give them all you've got. You want to be the best performer you can be. You want to deliver in a way that will be remembered.
More than that, you want to achieve the ultimate musical trifecta: flawless performance, soulful delivery, memorable night. Did I do this? Well.....ok, flawlessness was a goal not quite achieved, but the performance was pretty darn solid, if I do say so myself. And soulfulness was there, no doubt about it. As for memorability, I really think....based on what I'm hearing from those who were there...that this was achieved.
The end result? I am relieved, fulfilled, content, satisfied and ultimately quite honored that things worked out so well. And, oh yeah, grateful to those who came and supported me and my band. Extremely grateful. I say again, as I said many times on Saturday night, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

Home Town Gig

2009-01-28T19:41:00.001-08:00

I'm so ready for Saturday night. Sure, it's only Wednesday but Saturday can't come soon enough for me. The fact is, I've been ready for a while now. Oh yeah, there's still is plenty of prep work necessary to make Saturday night the impeccable musical performance I envision. Because that will be a collaborative effort and a major part of the collaboration hasn't exactly happened yet.

So here's the deal. On Saturday, January 31 at 7:30, the curtain rises for my show at The Shedd Performing Arts Institute. And in Eugene, Oregon, that's a big deal. Lots of print advertising featuring my picture, extra airplay on local radio, fancy oversized photographic full-color mailings about my show to several thousand local households and a palpable buzz in our community.

So what's the problem? Nothing really. Except that the 7 musicians that will back me up have never played with one another. Never even met. That will happen on Friday night.

I've played with clusters of them. For example, my two old friends who are LA musicians, Gary and Brent. We played together incessantly growing up in Salem, Oregon, and we've played together a number of times when I've visited LA. These guys have performed with dozens of acts that have achieved worldwide fame. Then there are the local guys, Matt and Pete, both consummate professionals who can and have cut the mustard with numerous other musicians, including Chuck Berry, Andy Summers and many more. And then there's Greg from Portland and Stan from Atlanta, terrific musicians with impressive musical resumes.

The thing is, our first opportunity to play my songs together arrives on Friday night. Then the show is on Saturday. Am I worried? No. Why not? Because they have learned my tunes and they are pros.

I'm excited. I know my audience will include dozens of friends and family members. And it will include many members of my home town who haven't heard me yet. If I merely avoid the indignity of disappointing them, my personal level of satisfaction will be low. Is it wrong to hope for more? I don't think so. When performing my songs, I put my entire being on the line. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm so ready for Saturday night.

Inauguration Day

2009-01-21T18:29:00.001-08:00

January 20, 2009---a date many will remember forever. Any why not? How many of us can remember other presidential inaugurations? A show of hands please? Uh huh, just a few political die-hards and the odd Reagen devotee.
So much excitement shared by so many. And not just in the USA. This inauguration ignited a worldwide celebration and a renewal of the perception that the United States actually deserves its lofty status as the leader of the free world.
Once again, for the first time this millenium, our nation is suddenly respected and admired as a place where people of humble origins can achieve the nation's highest office, including for the first time, people of color.
For most, the lasting images of the day will be those of Barack, Michelle and their adorable daughters. But for some, the most pleasurable image was the sight of W boarding the presidential helicopter and leaving Washington DC for good. Like an uninvited guest who outlived his welcome by 6 years, W's departure came far too late. Some are fond of saying "all good things must come to an end", but so it is too for bad things. And the Bush presidency was bad beyond belief, leaving a legacy of debt and bad will that may take generations to erase.
Could the juxtaposed images of January 20th be more starkly different? Out with the old president, a semi-articulate C student/frat boy (no offense to frat boys) mostly concerned with enriching his buddies and running government like a third rate church. In with the new president, a guy fairly described as brilliant, handsome and incredibly cool, committed to converting our government into a well-functioning organization in a fast changing world and restoring America's reputation as a beacon of democracy.
I've never been so proud to be an American.

Home: You Can't Get There From Here

2009-01-06T12:35:00.000-08:00

I didn't want to come to Sacramento. Now I can't leave. I want out. Now. Instead, I'm having a "Groundhog's Day"-Bill Murray experience. No, it's more like Tom Hanks in "The Terminal".
I am aware that fellow travelers have been stuck for days in places like Chicago and Portland. My current predicament is not caused by snow. It's fog. Fog in San Francisco.
You can drive from Sacramento to Eugene in 6 hours on a good day. But this is not a good day. Neither was yesterday. Now I'm pretty worried about tomorrow.
It is January 6. Why is this airport still plastered with "Happy Holidays" signs. Is the fog in San Francisco preventing airport personnel in Sacramento from taking them down? Or do they want us to reflect upon a happy moment in our past? Gosh, the holidays seemed like events that occurred a long, long time ago.
It's 2009 and we are prisoners. True, I have my guitar, which helps. And my laptop. Even free internet which is rare in airports these days. But I want to be home. Today please.

Christmas 2008---From Bethlehem to Gaza

2008-12-25T17:45:00.000-08:00

For me, Christmas of 2008 is different than earlier Christmases because of where I was last February. Yup, Bethlehem. It's not like I was on some spiritual quest. Far from it. But there we were in the heart of the Holy Land. At the front lines, or damn close to them, of the conflict between the Palestinians and the Jews.
Most Americans traveling to Israel have a religious experience in mind, but we were just intent on seeing another interesting part of the world. Our detour from Jerusalem to Bethlehem was really just one of those fortuitous traveling accidents, a convergence of opportunity and convenience.
The fact is, Bethlehem is just over the hill from Jerusalem but it's one of the places Israel has ceded to the Palestinians. Getting there was easy but weird as we had to switch cars and drivers at a scary sort of border crossing.
Once we arrived in downtown Bethlehem, we were greeted by an unusually well-spoken Palestinian in western dress. It turns out he was a powerful guy and we're still not sure how we wound up in his hands. Within minutes, we were whisked like heads-of-state to the manger, the official birthplace of Jesus, ahead of a 1+ hour line of anxious Christians. Feeling guilty over cutting the line, and hoping to keep our Kharma intact, we didn't linger.
Our trip to the Middle East included more points of interest and memorable events than I can recount, so our Bethlehem moment, though anything but disappointing, fell something short of the "event of a lifetime" standard. But now it's Christmas of 2008, and there is the Church of the Nativity and the Midnight Mass in full display on international tv. Newspaper accounts say it was the best Christmas in Bethlehem in 8 years (not sure why) with a large, festive crowd, full of love, immersed in their collective Christmas moment.
Meanwhile, 45 miles away, the more violently inclined Palestinians in the Gaza Strip were launching bombs into Jewish territory just east of the Gaza border. Apparently the Christmas spirit failed to fill their hearts with the loving, peaceful emotions those in Bethlehem experienced.
The Israeli military responded with an airstrike leaving several dead. There is now serious talk that they have had enough and that it may be time for a military incursion into Gaza to take out the radical Palestinian terrorists, once and for all. Until they strike again. Which everyone knows they will.
But here in Eugene, Oregon we enjoyed a truly peaceful Christmas. One of the ultra-rare white ones, as it actually snowed a bit here for the first time in nobody-remembers-for-sure how many years. So, here's wishing you Peace on earth. Especially in Israel. And don't forget good will toward men.

My Newest Song: "Bailout"

2008-12-15T07:58:00.000-08:00

Sometime jammin' produces results. A few nights ago, my friend Big Mike the bassplayer and I were playing. At a certain point, we strayed from the realm of familiar tunes we perform publicly and started jammin'. Before long, I was improvising lyrics over an upbeat slightly reggae groove, and out came a very pleasing chorus based on the word "bailout".

Have you heard that the term "bailout" was selected as the New Word of the Year for 2008? It's true. One of the major dictionary companies started the annual New Word Award to raise awareness of linguistic evolution and as a sort of literary counterpart to Time's Person of the Year Award.

Thanks to the tanking economy and our government's commitment to stemming the tide, bailout legislation is front page news. Now it seems like any industry in distress is asking for a bailout. The Big Three automakers' request for free money has, thankfully, not been that well received in the Beltway. But boy have the biggest financial institutions hit Congressional paydirt.

Unfortunately, for those millions of poor folks experiencing the worst kind of financial suffering, relief has been hard to come by. Apart from the measly $600 stimulus checks some have received, almost none of the middle and lower class has received meaningful help. Perhaps the new administration will find a more equitable means of addressing this issue.

In the meantime, I have taken poetic license to work the ironies of this national tragedy into a pretty darn catchy tune. It even has one of those choruses that folks can't help but sing along with, which is nice. Here are the lyrics to the chorus:

Bailout, bailout
Hey buddy can you spare a dime?
Bailout bailout
If your mortgage was subprime.
Bailout, bailout
Let's help the rich ones first.
Bailout bailout
So the economy won't get worse (that's what they tell us)

The song is equal parts Michael Franti and Graham Parker, two of my favorites, so thanks to them for the inspiration. Once I get "Bailout" down, maybe I'll post a video on this blog---I'd like you to hear it. Here's hoping that very few of you, my faithful readers, need a bailout and that you are in a position to offer needed help to those in distress. Happy holidays.

Overflowing With Thanksgiving Day Gratitude

2008-11-27T09:49:00.000-08:00

I'm grateful as hell. Sure, all's not right with the world (is it ever?) and there's more suffering in nearby quarters than we've seen in a long time but not enough to stem the abundance of gratitude I am feeling.

Let's start with the obvious---Barack Obama's presidential victory gives our nation and the world cause for serious optimism. It's so much more than a racial thing, although that's a story that will resonate through future centuries. President-Elect Obama is showing a commitment to excellence and balance in the choices he is making. This is a leader dedicated to finding exceptional people and demanding the highest level of competence based upon service to the citizenry. This mostly non-partisan approach is so rare and refreshing, it will be interesting to see how much push-back he receives and how he deals with it.

Other things for which I am deeply grateful: My wife. My parents. My children. My job. My fingers. My health. My friends. The health of my wife, parents, children and friends. Our freedom from strife. Our new dog (cute and friendly as can be, and best of all, nearly house broken). And much more.

I'm grateful for the chance to work in a supportive environment with folks who share my passion for all of my pursuits, musically and professionally and especially for those endeavors which involve benefit to our community. I am profoundly thankful that I was raised in a supportive, functional household that encouraged positive thinking, expected its members to work hard and to appreciate the fruits of their labors. The example set by my parents has led to a deeply satisfying life for me and I feel that I have achieved some success in passing those values along to my children.

I am grateful to live in a place where a support network exists even for those who experience considerable suffering, and happy that I am able to contribute to parts of that network more and more as time goes by.

I think it's time to pick up my favorite guitar (and I'm thankful to have several beauties that I love) and play a few songs of thanks. I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving and hope that you are able to find things in your lives for which your gratitude is abiding and real.

Updating My Technology

2008-11-22T09:20:00.000-08:00

These days, anything old school has a cool factor. I must admit, I like it that way. Of course, this is just a matter of sticking a new label on nostalgia. Think of all the terms we use to describe old stuff in a positive way. Like retro and vintage (as opposed to old-fashioned and passe). When newly used, these terms seem to make folks feel that they are the first ones to recycle old ideas.

Is it our desire to be creative and hip that moves us to feel that by applying new terms to old things, we are doing something unique? It shouldn't. After all, people have been aping old behaviors and trends since, well, since humans were apes. (Note to Sarah P---this actually did happen).

When it comes to technology though, old school stuff just doesn't cut it. If you don't keep your technological gadgets at least somewhat current, they become useless, functionally obsolete. Especially computers, with cell phones and tv's close behind.

What makes me think of this is the new Dell computer the FedEx guy delivered to me yesterday. I'm about to try setting it up, but before launching into that frustrating but ultimately rewarding effort (that's what I'm predicting anyway, being a total technology klutz), I thought I should post one last blog entry on this outdated piece of machinery.

Too many knowledgeable friends have assured me that this old processor is too slow and needs to be put out to pasture. Here I imagine a lovely green field with miles of freshly painted fence surrounding hundreds of computers in an untended herd a la Far Side which I still miss.

The new computer holds the promise of breakneck speed plus the allure of a 24 inch high definition widescreen, unencumbered by any of those pesky old cables that are soooo 2006. Still, part of me feels unfaithful to this keyboard, monitor and processor which, for the most part, served me very well. Sure, there were times when things didn't go quite right, and I generally felt like it was more its fault than mine, but overall, she served me well and I know I will miss her, with a mourning period that will last right up to the point the new Dell and I have established a solid working relationship. Figure a week.

Shaping Up For The Shedd

2008-11-16T09:25:00.000-08:00

Motivation is good. But getting motivated is tricky business. This is especially true for things that are optional. Take, for example, the act of rehearsing songs you've played hundreds of times.

I now have musical motivation. It's right there on the calendar: January 31, 2009. It's listed in the local newspaper each week. Advertisements and posters are showing up with my picture. My upcoming show at The Shedd Performing Arts Institute is a big deal and I am determined to be at the top of my game. Can't let the home folks down, gotta give 'em their moneys worth. This motivation is real and powerful. And it makes me happy.

Even when my motivation slides, I still play guitar every day, at least for a little while. But now I'm sharpening my chops. I have summoned a higher level of concentration and I plan to nurture it passionately for the next couple of months. When my musical concentration kicks in, good things happen.

New song ideas keep popping into my head and old songs seem to possess a new energy. Ever notice how artists sometimes vary the musical arrangements of their old songs, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse? My old songs are morphing a bit these days and I'm determined to let this happen spontaneously, hoping that the changes will add depth and nuance. The audience will decide and I do not wish to let them down.

Sometimes I regret that my day job and other commitments interfere with my music. But mostly I'm grateful that I have the freedom to live the way I do and that music, even though it isn't my sole career, still occupies a huge and important part of my life. On January 31, I will have the opportunity to show folks in my hometown what I'm musically all about these days. I can't wait.

The Audacity of Hope: Sometimes It Pays Off

2008-11-05T08:30:00.001-08:00

The world yelped with glee, then breathed a collective celebratory sigh of relief. Barack won, McCain gave a wonderfully statesman-like concession speech and for the first time in most folks memory, we are newly invigorated with hope and the promise that change is coming.

So often our hopes and dreams have not come true. For the past eight years, not only have they not come true, they have been stomped upon and crushed against the concrete like a dirty, spent-to-the-filter cigarette butt.

We must not be naive about the prospects for meaningful change. As Barack said, our path is long and the road will be steep. But last night, as the champagne corks flew, hope took new life.

When I told my parents that this was the most important election of my life, they said it was the most important election of their lives too, and they are in their eighties, old enough to remember The Great Depression well. Old enough to have fought, and for my dad to witness death over the skies of Germany, in World War Two.

Obama's story, his message and his charisma resonated with people of all ages and backgrounds (ok, not ALL, looking at the list of red states it's obvious which parts of our country can't shed their blinders) igniting a worldwide celebration. Let us savor the moment, recognize that occasionally our greatest hopes are realized and be prepared to do our part because, as Barack says so eloquently, progress and change cannot be achieved without sacrifice.

Nov 4---The World Is Watching Us

2008-11-04T08:06:00.000-08:00

Friends are good, right? Not tag-a-long friends or users, but real friends. Our current president, by all accounts a social frat-like guy, has shown surprising indifference to our nation's friends and allies. And that has cost us.

November 4 is a day the world will remember for a long time. We will send a message to the world with our ballots. That message will be one of two things: either we care about our international friends and want to resume our rightful place as a beacon of hope for the free world, or that we really are indifferent to our relationships with our so-called allies.

There is, of course, so much more one could talk about. The wars, the economy, the environment, the transference of wealth and power from the public to the corporate arena, the shrinkage of the middle class, the stacking of the Supreme Court, etc.

When I attend memorial services, something which tends to happen more frequently as we get older, this is when folks talk openly about things that matter most. To most people, nothing matters more than friends, family, the bonds of love between them and how we choose to spend our precious time on earth.

It is the same with nations which are, after all, just large groups of people with whom we have more in common than we generally care to acknowledge. So as the world watches us today, let us not disappoint. Seldom does an election offer such a stark contrast between competing world views.

As a lifetime student of politics, a political science major, a brother of a well-known political writer who immersed us both in the world of politics since childhood, I am struck by how important this election has become. To me, it is by far the most important election of my lifetime. This will either be the saddest or the happiest election day of my life. Soon we will know.

Not All Effigies Are Created Equally

2008-10-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

Did you hear about the Hollywood Halloween prankster with the Sarah Palin effigy? This seems to strike most folks in a comedic way. Seeing Sarah with her Neiman Marcus designer suit, expensive hair and make-up, all $200,000 worth, dangling alongside other mock-scary Halloween monsters---this is a hard to mistake as anything other than a joke from America's capital of irreverence.

Sure, Sarah's supporters won't see it that way but they aren't known for abundant senses of humor. In fact, they are generally challenged with all things involving sense, so we can depend on them to take umbrage. "Oh, the horror!"

Effigies of Barack Obama---are they the same or different? To some, I suppose an effigy is an effigy. But this is wrong because it ignores our national history. Given our shameful behavior patterns of bigotry and violence toward African-Americans, KKK lynchings and burning crosses, a Barack effigy connotes something far more sinister and despicable than dangling Sarah.

Imagine having a conversation about this with Rush Limbaugh or Bill O'Reilly. I can see them bursting a vein at the very suggestion that there's a difference. But as with most things, knowledgeable people know better.

The campaign is quickly coming to a close. And closure is good. Especially if the outcome is the one you want. This time, the world is paying closer attention than usual. I pray that we do not disappoint.

Songwriting 101: Finding Inspiration

2008-10-18T09:34:00.000-07:00

Writer's block isn't just for novelists. It afflicts songwriters too. At least that has been my experience. How to solve the problem? Here's an easy answer: lower your standards. Oh wait, I already wrote that song. Seriously, it's on my first cd.

If there's a trick to songwriting, it probably lies in ones ability to find inspiration. Imagine a songwriter sitting at the table, day after day, trying his best to crank out new tunes. Without inspiration, chances are quality will suffer. We've all heard enough crappy songs to know that songwriting isn't easy.

But inspiration can be divine. Consider your favorite songs and try to imagine what is was that led the writers of these masterpieces to write them in the first place. Songs are not generally not like science projects, things you can start on from scratch and build on over long periods of time until you've finally achieved a complete result.

Most of the time, the inspiration for a song does not spring from nothing. I've tried to just sit down and write songs---for me, anyway, the process of devoting time to creating new songs rarely yields satisfactory results. More often, I get hit with an idea. It can emerge from personal experience or it can just pop into my head. When it comes, the first thing one must do is to recognize that you're on to something. That's harder then it sounds, because inspiration lies before us constantly and we generally fail to see it.

Sometimes in the early morning hours, like when I get out of bed because I need to pee, I have trouble getting back to sleep. Sound familiar? You start thinking about things, and before long your inner monologue becomes a noisy chat room and your chancing of getting reunited with sleep in the next hour look increasingly dim. Sometimes, in such moments, song ideas occur to me. But there's a dilemma: do you get of bed to start working on the song or take a chance that you'll remember your great idea when morning comes?

I actually have gotten out of bed a few times to write down my ideas. More often, I don't and the song idea has vanished by morning, just like most of my whacky dreams. Such a shame, such a waste. But damn, if you get out of bed and start writing, what are the chances you'll rediscover slumber anytime soon?

A couple nights ago, I managed to break this dreadful pattern. Yup, I thought of a song idea in the middle of the night and somehow managed to remember it the following morning. The song is called "My Restless Brain", and it's about how the A-side of the brain keeps me awake while the B side wants me to have a nice dreamy sleep. It's a funny little song. The last verse goes like this:

The A side needs the B side,Knows the B side is his soul, And the only way to get there, Is through his tight A-hole.

Last night I got to see Dar Williams and Sean Mullins, two very accomplished songwriters. They played at The Shedd in Eugene where I'll be performing on January 31. Great show. Now there was some inspiration, so if you'll excuse me, I've got to start writing down my new ideas before they evaporate.

The Elusive Sedona Vortex

2008-10-03T08:59:00.000-07:00

Lots of folks swear by it. Some claim it changed their lives. For the better of course. Others leave unhealed and disappointed. I'm talking about the vortex in Sedona, Arizona.

I had never been to Sedona but the photos I'd seen looked spectacular. More massive red rocks than you can believe, all right outside your window. Then there's the buzz about the vortex. So when I arrived in Sedona last week, I was determined to learn all I could about the vortex.

First things first. Just what is the vortex? After asking a few people, it seems to be this: Some believe that the Sedona area possesses a unique healing power and that this has been recognized for centuries, first by the Native Americans. According to their oral history, Native Americans did not live in the red rock area surrounding Sedona because the spiritual forces were TOO powerful. Instead, they would come to this area for spiritual cleansing and growth. No doubt the combination of red rock and peyote generated bucketfuls of enlightenment.

Ever the skeptic, for me, talk of the vortex all sounded a bit like so much New Age hocum. The notion that by standing in particular places, I could experience some sort of healing strays so far from my personal experience that for me, this was a tough sell. Many Sedonaites and New Age devotees see things very differently though. In fact, the leaders of the New Age movement believe that Sedona is one of the world's best sites for achieving a state of spiritual and even physical healing.

I felt the legend of the Sedona vortex eminently worthy of further investigation. So I talked with quite a few folks, especially bartenders, about the vortex. From the bartenders, I learned that lots and lots of people move to Sedona to get healed. They just keep on coming. Drives real estate prices through the roof. Optimism runs high. Apparently results are mixed. Many leave unhealed. But that doesn't stop others from coming.

I wasn't expecting to get "healed". I had a big problem---I wasn't sure what condition I had that needed healing. But I did love the place for its natural beauty. The air quality is high, and not just in some pristine scientific way. OK, here I know I'm sounding a bit New Age-ish but I'm telling you, Sedona is a place where the inclination to indulge your creative muse runs strong. I felt like writing a bunch of new songs. But our time was quite limited, so we did plenty of hiking instead while thoughts of new songs danced around my strangely active brain.

I had the opportunity to perform and meet some wonderful new folks. Then we headed north to the Grand Canyon, but that's a story for another time. So here's my ultimate recommendation: go to Sedona. Don't expect to get healed. You're better off to keep your expectations low---that way you may be in for a very pleasant surprise.

TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN

2008-09-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

All the big boys are taking a hit. Some will not survive. Merrill Lynch, Shearson Lehman, Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley---the REALLY big boys. The same ones that have created more millionaires and billionaires, especially for the investment bankers who run these places, than history has ever seen.

Even the rank and file at these companies were paid six and seven figure Christmas bonuses. Hey, who couldn't use a little extra cash at Christmas? Now they're in free fall, and some are down for the count. But wait. Who's coming in to help? The federal government, of course. In other words, you and me.

I have no problem with the government bailing out AIG---if the nation's biggest financial insurer went belly up, millions of ordinary folks and small businesses would be in a world of hurt. It's not the same, though, with the investment banking sector. So why the bail out?

At times like this, my cynical side wins out. Probably because it's dead right, again. Remember when W stepped in to bail out the subprime lenders and his answer to the real victims, the people whose houses were being foreclosed, was to give them a "stimulus package" of something like $600. Nice package, huh?

That was just one year ago. But it turns out that the nasty subprime mess has not run its course, and the very institutions that profited so handsomely when the going was good now get bailed out by the government when the going sucks. Sweet deal.

On an individual level, so many of those employed in investment banking are set for life, and for generations to come, and I mean really set, there's no reason to feel sympathy for them. They're the ones who took the money and now get to run. No consequences for them. A gentle landing into a sublime world of temporary unemployment perhaps, a perfect time to count the money. Maybe invest some of those earnings while things are tanking, watch the bailout lead to a speedy recovery in the market, and before you know it, they've pocketed another fortune.

Steve Miller's classic tune "Take the money and run" says it pretty well. But not as well as Dylan's great line "steal a little and they'll throw you in jail, steal a lot, they'll make you king".

Return Engagement

2008-09-12T13:13:00.000-07:00

Two words of which I am especially fond: Return Engagement. Creates the impression that the first show was so well-received that the audience DEMANDED another. What am I talking about? I have been asked to perform at The Shedd. For a second time. Sweeeeeet!

In April of 2007, I was honored to be asked to perform at The Shedd for the first time. This coincided with the release of my last cd, "Party of One", and it was one of the most memorable performances of my life. Why? First, it's a top notch venue. It's sort of like a Eugene version of Austin City Limits. The performing arts hall in The Shedd seats 800 and many world-class artists have performed there.

Second, I was one of the first local artists to be invited to perform at The Shedd. And the show couldn't have gone any better. My old friend and record producer Gary White agreed to join me for the show, coming to Eugene from LA. Many close friends and family members attended, including my parents.

If you've ever checked out the video of me performing on this blog, that footage is taken from my show at The Shedd. Well, my Return Engagement (pardon the capital letters, like I said, I really like those two words) is scheduled for Saturday, January 31, just before I plan on leaving for Australia and a few shows Down Under. More about that later. More about all of this return to music later.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, it's mid-September, the sun is bright, the scenery is spectacular this time of year and I'm feeling happy as can be. Oh yes, this is enough of a diversion to temporarily keep my mind off those dark Sarah thoughts.

Sarah Inspires Me To Song

2008-09-07T18:03:00.000-07:00

Inspiration can be hard to find. Songwriters agree on this. So it's important to start writing when inspiration strikes. Lose the moment and you've lost the song. Did you know that some of the greatest songs ever written came in a flash? Such inspiration truly is divine.

The inverse side of the songwriting conundrum is that often, great songwriters work for years on a song and never find satisfaction. Once Brian Wilson trashed an entire album many described as a masterpiece. Thirty years later, "Smile" was finally released.

Right now I'm grateful as hell to Sarah Palin. She has inspired me to write a song. A song about her. I haven't written it yet. I'm still gathering material. Seems like every day there's a new revelation.

Sometimes when I'm writing a song, I jot down a list of all the thoughts I have on a topic. Throw in a couplet or two, a few key rhyming words and before long, you're a chorus away from a good song. Other times, you have a strong idea for a chorus, build a few verses, maybe toss in a bridge and kazaam! You've got a song.

For my Sarah song, there's such an abundance of material, it's like shooting moose, I mean fish, in a barrel. She's got the AK-47, the husband who wants Alaska to secede, the 17 year-old pregnant daughter who was raised in a household preaching abstinence and family values. You've got Sarah so proud of her daughter's choice, a choice Sarah wants to deny to every pregnant woman, rape victims included. Because abortion is murder. Nothing wrong with gunning down a pregnant moose though. It's all in good sport.

Such a plethora of material for one song idea is truly rare. This song practically writes itself. In fact, I think I could write an entire Sarah album of songs. Sergeant Sarah's Lonely Heart's Club Band. Or something like that.

Sarah is asserting herself. She's plucky and pissed. She doesn't like being compared to people like Hillary. Thinks she's so much better than that and certainly more on the right track than misguided souls like Barack Obama and any Democrat who ever lived. Thinks they're all going to hell. I'm afraid that if she's elected vice-president, we all might be.

One Heartbeat Away---McCain's Strangest Move

2008-08-30T08:48:00.001-07:00

Sarah who? Oh sure, the one who was mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. An obvious choice for vice president. How did the national media manage to overlook her when they were analyzing McCain's vice presidential prospects?

This election has transformed from odd to bizarre overnight. I guess McCain was thinking that Hillary's supporters are so dumb that they'll vote for anything female. Hey John---helloooo---I'm no woman but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works.

Some say McCain was worried his support among the religious right needed to be beefed up. Like they were ever going to vote for Obama/Biden.

This is a selection which is downright scary. Let's not pretend that McCain can't be elected. Remember 2004? McCain is 72 years old, and even if he were the healthiest person on earth, that puts his veep one heartbeat away from the presidency. And who would that be? Sarah Palin.

If only she were related to Michael Palin of Monty Python, I'd feel much better. But she's not. Here's her background: age 44, mother of 5 (yup, just gave birth to her 5th child at age 44), served a couple terms on the Wasilla City Council, then was mayor of Wasilla until 2006 when she was elected governor of Alaska. Education: bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Idaho. Job experience: tv newscaster in Alaska; helping her husband with his commercial fishing business.

Let's say you own a small business and you're thinking of hiring someone as office manager. Honestly, there's a pretty good chance Sarah wouldn't even get an interview. But McCain is telling us she's the most qualified Republican to serve as Vice President for the United States of America?

As governor, she fired the head of the Alaska's state law enforcement agency and there's considerable evidence she did this because he refused to fire Sarah's sister's ex-husband from his job as a state trooper. Hmmm. Stay tuned to this ethics investigation. I'm sure we'll hear a lot more about this.

Get this---she thinks the Bush administration is too liberal when it comes to environmental policy. Can't understand why Bush would want polar bears to be listed as an endangered species. Thinks we should drill more oil from Alaska, even more than McCain. Seriously.

This would be amusing if it wasn't so real. Undecided voters take heed. If Sarah were president, who knows what might happen (don't forget: one heartbeat away!) I'm afraid she could make W look good by comparison, and I didn't think that was possible.

Let's not forget the absolute capper of this deal. McCain's most blistering criticism of Obama so far, his rallying cry, is that Obama LACKS EXPERIENCE. Well John, what can you tell us about Sarah's experience?

Clinton Contrition

2008-08-28T08:38:00.000-07:00

This is what they live for, Bill and Hillary, and they delivered the goods. At the Democratic National Convention in Denver and a huge national television audience, both Clintons delivered moving speeches calculated to unite the Democratic Party and sway undecided voters to back Barack for president. Was that so hard? For them, yes it was. And I fear it will continue to be.

But for now, let's give props to the Clintons. After months of unsubtle swipes at Barack Obama, some decidedly below the belt, the Clintons put on their best face at the final hour when it mattered most.

Stay tuned though. 2012 is never far from Hillary's mind. Bill's too. Let's hope that between now and November, they shelter their ambitions and continue to let the nation believe they truly support the Obama-Biden ticket. But when Bill Clinton stepped on stage on the song "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" was blaring, I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that it means something very different now than it did in 1992.

When Politicians Turn Bad

2008-08-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

This Hillary thing keeps reminding me of when I was a kid. We played baseball a lot in our neighborhood but most of the time, there was only one baseball bat. The kid who had the bat made the rules. If he didn't like how things were going, he'd take his bat and leave. Game over.

As we got older, everyone learned that it's just wrong for the kid with the bat to set the rules. That's not what adults do. Or so we were told.

I often wondered what it was, exactly, that got the kid with the bat to share. I liked to think that he learned something important. That it's better for everyone to share. But maybe he just learned that if he didn't share, he'd get in trouble with his folks or that a group of angry kids might beat the crap out of him. Community interest or self-preservation?

Which leads me to Hillary. So often it seems that she would rather have McCain win than Obama. And we all know why---if McCain wins, she has a better shot at the White House in 2012. From the standpoint of the nation and the world, does she really think a McCain presidency would be best? Of course not. But her level of caring for the nation pales in comparison to how much she cares about herself. This now seems obvious.

I used to admire her tremendously. I hoped she would one day be president. I thought she possessed all the qualities of a great international leader. Not any more. It saddens me to learn that her greed and vanity trumped her interest in serving the greater good.

Then there's Bill. Most scholars give him high marks for his presidential tenure and I think history will uphold this positive view, perhaps even enhance it. And in his first 4 to 6 years as a former president, Bill conducted himself admirably on the world stage using his power for the benefit of many world causes.

Then he lost it. He's like the kid with the baseball bat. And he's pissed. And it shows.

The Clintons have a shot at redemption. It comes at the Democratic National Convention. But it doesn't end there. They need to campaign tirelessly for Barack. If they don't, the world will know that they care only for themselves. In which case I will continue to think "Shame on them". Bill and Hillary, please don't let that happen. Use your power for the greater good and don't pretend you don't know what that means. We're not that stupid.

The Evil Republican Spin Machine

2008-08-16T19:09:00.000-07:00

Forgive me. I thought we were a nation that cared about truth. Forgive us. For we are a nation of idiots. I suspect this statement won't enhance my chances for victory if I were to decide to run for public office. On the other hand, the evidence is overwhelming---we ARE a nation of idiots. How else can any rational person explain that a majority of our citizenry accept without question the ridiculous mean-spirited lies the Republican spin machine cranks out?

Have you heard about the new book "Obama Nation"? A Karl Rove-ish Swift Boat redux. The New Republicanism cares only about results and cares nothing about process. The New Republicanism, as a core value, believes that it is justified in telling lies about exceptional citizens, who happen to be Democrats running for executive office. Why? Well, for one thing, they can get away with it. They know that most Americans are not critical thinkers. Collectively, we are dumb and lazy, willing to believe whatever toxic lies the Republican Rovers spew in our general direction.

For another, it gets results! Witness the re-election of W in 2004. W's performance as our president from 2001 to 2004 will go down in history as a disaster, yet our nation of idiots re-elected him. And for us to re-elect W in 2004 proves, once again, they we as a nation are gullible and foolish. Of course, there is also the possibility that both elections were rigged, Florida in 2000 and Ohio in 2004.

What amazes me most, though, is the hypocrisy. The Republican's are attempting to marginalize Barack claiming he is an elitist. Let's see, Obama grew up in a household with a single parent, excelled at academics and athletics, and lacked any of the privileges one normally associates with elitists.

McCain, on the other hand, was the son of an admiral and the grandson of an admiral. He didn't deserve to get into the US Naval Academy but strings were pulled and it happened. Never an exceptional student, McCain's chief to notoriety seemed to lie in his ability to survive as a POW in Vietnam. I'm sure this was a miserable time for him, but is the ability to not die while being fed crappy food by Communists really something that qualifies someone to be the Leader of the Free World?

So who's the elitist? Let's not forget that McCain's wife is mega-rich, if not a billionaire, she's close. And despite all this, McCain is asking for Americans to vote for him because Obama, not McCain, is an elitist.

By now, everyone has seen McCain's add comparing Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. This stretch of reasoning is priceless. I think it goes like this: because Barack has become famous, he is like Spears and Hilton. Since Spears and Hilton are dumb, lame celebrities, Barack must be a dumb, lame celebrity. That's called a syllogism. Our nation of idiots doesn't know much about these and falls for the trap. Shame on us. Funny how the person many Republicans say was our greatest president, Ronald Reagan, was a celebrity, and in spite of this disqualifying attribute ("Bedtime for Bonzo"), not to mention his dementia, he managed to do a bang up job as president.

Barack's celebrity world-wide seems to derive from the sense of hope he inspires. Nobody since JFK has inspired hope at home and abroad. The Republicans realize that they can't inspire hope. The stock-in-trade of the Republican Party has been reduced to lies and fear-mongering. Shame on us, the nation of idiots, that this seems to work so well.

Beijing----Where Freedom Doesn't Ring

2008-08-08T09:18:00.000-07:00

Today the curtain rises on the Beijing Olympics. Weirdness is guaranteed. Sports fans, the kind who tolerate gymnastics and water polo and wrestling and crew and weightlifting in small doses once every four years, will be mildly entertained. NBC will bludgeon us with "up close and personal" profiles. Advertisers will advertise. I can hardly contain my excitement.

Actually, since the US Track and Field Trials were in Eugene, I'm anxious to watch Olympic Track and Field. How often do you get to see people you know from your home town compete in the Olympics? Can't help but wonder how much that nasty Beijing air will impair performance though. Running hard, especially at long distances, is a painful experience. Having run plenty of marathons, I know this based on harsh experience. I can't imagine how much the pain will be compounded by the unavailability of decent quality air to breath.

But the strangest thing of all will be the whole Chinese spectacle. The Communist Chinese government broke their piggy bank, at enormous sacrifice to the people they govern so cruelly, to put on a show to dazzle the world. The newly constructed Olympic facilities are architectural marvels---kudos to the Chinese for that, I guess. But nice buildings and well-choreographed ceremonies cannot conceal China's colossal shortcomings, from human rights to environmental Armageddon.

Let's just hope that this Olympics is free of terrorism and that the games unfold without tragic mishaps. The Chinese have set the bar at world record height. I'll be happy if we somehow manage to get through unscathed.

2008 Rogue Adventure: Highs and Lows

2008-08-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

This wasn't how the trip was supposed to begin. The night before our group of 9 was set to launch our rafts on the Rogue River, we learned that a woman drowned on Blossom Bar earlier that day. Our collective mood was already apprehensive because Blossom had claimed another life four weeks earlier.

We didn't commit to this trip because we wanted to tempt fate. This trip was about re-connecting with old friends over a few days of whitewater and a few nights around the campfire. Sure, we knew the Rogue was dangerous and that mishaps are commonplace. In years past, each of us had perilous encounters---flipping rafts or kayaks, adrift in wild waters struggling to reach a point of safety. Such events take place almost daily on the Rogue.

But never before had Blossom Bar claimed two lives in such a short time period. Was it because the water levels were 50% higher than normal for the summer? Was it merely goulish coincidence? Unable to purge such worries, but determined to proceed with the trip as planned, we committed ourselves to safety and caution. Not that we were especially reckless in earlier trips, but this time, we did things a little differently.

The Rogue trip takes four days. In the past, we tended to drink plenty of beer during the calm stretches on hot afternoons and we often removed our life jackets after passing through dangerous rapids. Not this time. In earlier trips, there was always a point in the trip, usually after passing through Blossom Bar, when we lowered our guard, figuring that since the biggest hazards were behind us, we were somehow immune from the dangers that still remained. Inevitably, this is when most of our mishaps occurred.

This year, our concentration remained high throughout the entire trip. The result---no screw-ups, no scary moments, everyone home safely. But there was one especially unsettling moment. When we arrived at Blossom Bar, just as we were tying up our rafts to scout the life-threatening rapids, a helicopter came in close. Was it there to attempt to remove the body? Was it there to get footage of another rafting party's flirt with death?

Turns out that unlike the earlier drowning victim whose body was unable to be removed from the rapids for over two weeks, the second victim's family was fortunate to recover her body within a day or two. Still, it was weird and ominous that a helicopter would arrive at Blossom Bar at the same time we did. We didn't like it.

Apart from our worries, the trip went like a dream. There's nothing quite like spending time on an outdoor adventure with your best friends. Everyone stayed up late singing, partying and laughing. As expected, my fingertips nearly bled from the many hours of hard guitar playing. We had a ridiculous encounter with a complete asshole who we nicknamed "Pajama Man"---a territorial guy who refused to share a much larger campsite than his party needed---but the result of Pajama Man's ugly behavior was that we met a couple guys who became good friends and joined our party for the last two days of our trip. Mathew and Kelly (who looks like Owen Wilson but with a better nose) became welcome additions to our group.

We're already planning next year's trip. Our hearts feel so badly for the friends and family of those who died on the Rogue. We like to think that we honor their memory by continuing to raft the Rogue's dangerous waters.

Rogue River Rafting: Unplugged

2008-07-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

Everyone loves a wild river. Not many folks get the chance spend time on one. Lucky me, I do. Every year or two, seven or eight of my oldest friends get together for a spectacular and somewhat dangerous trip down the Rogue River in Oregon.

Here's a short list of the things I love about this trip. First, the scenery is spectacular beyond description. The Rogue River's "wild and scenic" section (designated by the US Congress) is world class water, surrounded by virgin forests and majestic canyons in western Oregon. Second, the peaceful feeling of camping in the wilderness for 3 nights, away from cell phones, computers and the stresses of modern life is something we all need but rarely get. Third, and best of all, is the chance to spend unrushed time with my closest friends, guys I don't get to see very often.

There's one more thing---the music. Every night on the river, I'll be playing guitar and singing my ass off. By the end of the trip, the deep calluses on my fingers will have the skin ripped off from playing so long and hard. Music,of course, is among the strongest forces that bind the friendships in our group. In college, we danced and partied to the our favorite artists in a golden age of music. On the Rogue, we will recapture some of that energy.

The river level is high, the sun is bright and my friends arrive from Portland, Seattle and San Francisco in about an hour. When I get back, I'll tell you all about it.

Terrible Taser Trouble

2008-07-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

Police love tasers. They claim that tasers promote public safety. Isn't it better to "deploy" a taser on an unruly citizen than to be forced to use deadly force? So goes their rationale.

Last month in sleepy but politically active Eugene, Oregon an 18 year old protestor holding a bucket of water was "subdued" by local police with a taser. Many witnesses describe the use of such force by the police as being unnecessary to the point of being criminal.

It turns out that the 18 year old was wearing protesting the use of pesticides and claimed that his bucket contained poison which he was spraying around the public square. The police were uncertain whether he was telling the truth and didn't want to risk exposure to poison. That sounds plenty reasonable but why introduce the taser?

The strangest thing about this little demonstration is how it got reported to the local police. As it turned out, a vigilant employee of the Department of Homeland Security was maintaining surveillance on this small demonstration of 30 pesticide protesters. Wow, talk about Big Brother. What other kinds of things is the Dept of Homeland Security spying on? Chances are this blog is being monitored. And maybe your email. Does this make you feel safer?

Back to tasers. How dangerous are they? Here's the party line: the 50,000 volts a person temporarily receives temporarily disables them enabling police to secure the individual. The voltage is painful but after application of a 1-2 second burst, most individuals experience no further pain and have, at most, minor burn marks from the fish-hook barbs. Hmmm. Mainstream media (CBS) reported that taser use by police was responsible for 70 deaths in a report published in 2004. The manufacturer of Tasers denies that the electrical charge imparted by the Taser is responsible for no deaths. Who do you believe?

July the 4th, 2008

2008-07-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

This 4th of July is special. You know why. It's the last time we'll be celebrating Independence Day with W in office.

Since W was selected as president nearly 8 years ago, our national prestige and pride has plummeted. The world thinks less of us (US) and it's easy to understand why. W's disregard for human rights and the environment has brought shame on our great nation.

I could, of course, go on quite a rant, but others have done that so often and so well that there's not much point in heading down that path.

Instead, let me recommend that you celebrate this 4th of July with special vigor and enthusiasm. Let's hope that next year, we have a new brand of leadership (McCain won't give us that; anybody who thinks otherwise needs to smell the coffee). Without a doubt, Barack Obama will restore our standing in the world of nations. No president can be expected to solve all our problems but Obama's election will surely resurrect the respect America once commanded. And we can depend on being able to celebrate every 4th of July for years to come.

Beijing Journey Starts in Eugene--US Olympic Trials

2008-06-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

Eugene, Oregon is known as Track City. It's a long story but the condensed version goes like this: The University of Oregon established a tradition of track excellence early in the 20th Century. By the 60's, a succession of outstanding athletes and a pair of legendary coaches gave Eugene a high profile in the track world. This, in turn, gave Eugene the chance to host the US Olympic Trials in Track and Field in 1972, 1976 and 1980.

Of all the great Olympians connected with Eugene, Steve Prefontaine's legacy is most enduring. Today isn't the day for a post about Pre though. It's a story about the return of the Olympic Trials to Eugene. The Trials began here yesterday and they will continue until July 6.

Some call it the most exciting track meet on earth, better even than the Olympics themselves. Why? Because you can't be a member of the US Olympic team unless you finish in the top 3 in the Trials. No exceptions. As a result, sometimes the best athletes in the world don't make the team.

This event has brought our community together like nothing else could. Folks have come from every state to attend the Trials. Huge crowds, great weather, outstanding performances, all combined with a festive atmosphere. That's a tough combination to beat.

Every day after the Trials end, a music festival begins next to the stadium. Excellent cover bands rock the place, local microbrews (and of course Bud and Bud Lite) are abundant and the living is good.

Even for people who don't know much about track, this is an unforgettable event. I'm proud that our community is rising to the occasion and happy that so many visitors get to see Oregon at its finest.

For the athletes, this means everything. The dream of Olympic glory in Beijing cannot become a reality without success in Eugene. Poignant moments abound. The realization of one athlete's dream means failure for another. Such pure athletic competition is hard to find these days. I love it.

The Etiquette of Barber Break-Ups

2008-06-26T21:17:00.001-07:00

Nathan was my barber, oops, I'm mean "hairstylist", for 15 years. No, this is not an obituary. Nathan is alive and well. It's just that I don't see him anymore.

Nathan always did a good job and the conversations were plenty interesting. Nathan's shop is in the heart of downtown. This means that he cuts the hair of many professionals and businessmen.

When I started playing more gigs a few years back, my Nathan-esque haircut started looking out of sync with my performing self. It had a slightly comb-overish quality. This really bothered my wife, a person who used to do hair in a fashionable salon on the Oregon coast. And I can't say I blame her. In fact, I greatly appreciate her concern for my appearance.

Once I agreed to let my wife cut my hair, that was it for Nathan. But the thing is, he's a guy I like, respect and admire. And I never took the time to discuss this change with him. Once I bumped into his hair-cutting partner Mac and explained the situation to him. He said they figured something like that happened. But that's not the same as me telling Nathan.

Why am I writing about this? My sensitive side is telling me that I owe Nathan the courtesy of a face-to-face explanation. What is the etiquette of barber break-ups anyway? Does it depend on the nature of the relationship? Or the length? Or the reason for making a switch?

I'm thinking I'm overdue to drop-in on Nathan and tell him what I great guy I think he is. To tell him that my wife now, more or less, insists on cutting my hair and pointing out that the avoidance of domestic strife is a smart man's top priority. And I know he would understand. I feel like a little bit of a jerk for not doing this a long time ago.

But the thing is, if I just drop in on him, he'll probably be cutting someone's hair when my mea culpa moment arrives. That seems awkward. Calling him on the phone is too impersonal. Hmmm.

Yes, there are bigger problems in the world but right now, I want to set things right with Nathan, my old barber friend.

A Little Encouragement Goes A Long Way

2008-06-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

Thanks. I guess maybe somewhere deep inside, I needed a dose of encouragement. In lasts weeks post, the implied message was that it seemed like my live-performance activity was something I could let slide, and somehow feel ok about. Suddenly I started getting inquiries, lots of them, about when I'm going to play again. They were coming from sources near and far, known and unknown, in person and by email. Enough of them to convince me that people really do care, more than I thought.

I remember an old tv commercial from when I was growing up, one of the many really dumb ones. It was an advertisement for an after-shave product, maybe Gillette's Skin Bracer After-Shave. A guy is looking at his freshly shaved, quite ordinary face in the bathroom mirror. A hand appears from off-screen and slaps the guy hard on the side of his face. The guy says "Thanks. I needed that."

Now I'm that guy. So to all of you who have been asking when I'm going to perform again and encouraging me to do so, I say Thanks. I needed that. I'll make the changes necessary in my life to make it happen. And I can't wait.

Finding Time To Perform

2008-06-13T08:18:00.001-07:00

I admit it. Lately it's been tough to find the time to perform. It wouldn't be so bad if it were easier to book satisfactory gigs. But it isn't easy. Sometimes I'm tempted to think that this problem is uniquely mine. Not so. Every musician I know experiences this problem.

Discussing this topic with my LA producer/long-time friend Gary White, I have learned that even for first-call session players, things can be tough. Not exactly headline news that things have always been tough in the arts.

My situation IS somewhat unique though. Here I am, still working my day job as an attorney, mainly defending poor folks charged with misdemeanors---minor crimes which are generally the result of making dumb decisions after drinking too much. Then I discovered that I really enjoy creating new living environments using sustainable products. Some people characterize this new activity as real estate development but I don't really think of it that way. I prefer to think of it as community re-development because I'm taking worn-out, unattractive buildings and replacing them with new places for people to live that are visually striking and environmentally sensitive.

In the process, I've learned a lot and made many new relationships with architects and professionals in the building trades, many of whom are artists within their own areas of specialization. Through a highly collaborative process, we have designed and built a couple projects which some describe as "Northwest Urban" architecture.

I am proud of what we have accomplished. I have a newfound passion for this and I find myself wanting to do more. But there are problems. For one, it is not without significant financial risk. But mostly it takes a lot of time. Before I starting doing this, I was very busy with music and law. Now that I have added so much real estate activity to my slate of activities, I'm busier than ever. Something had to give. None of what I do is easily sacrificed but it seems that the task of trying to book gigs is the thing I am least inclined to do. The result---performances have been rare.

I still pick up my guitar every day. And I still intend to push the music when time allows in the future. But for now, I'm seriously immersed in a new kind of creative process. Without seeking any recognition for this new activity in the media, I've gotten plenty. I've been featured in several articles recently and I'm happy to say that the portrayals have been flattering. One called me a "renaissance man". I am humbled and flattered by such attention. But mostly I hope that my example inspires others to be adopt building practices with a greater sensitivity to the environment. Yes, it costs more money initially to build using sustainable practices and materials, but in the long run, you save money, the consumer enjoys a better product and society benefits. If you know any developers, encourage them to learn more and if they have any questions, have them contact me. I would be delighted to share my knowledge and enthusiasm.

When Tragedy Strikes Strangers

2008-06-05T12:01:00.000-07:00

You read it every day---"teen killed in drive-by shooting", "tornado in Georgia---8 Dead", "50,000 Die in Chinese Earthquake", "140,000 Cyclone Victims Perish In Myanamar". The frequency of such tragic news has a way of numbing my soul, coating your feelings with teflon. But the collective weight of so much death eventually drags one down. And the knowledge that the victims are all innocent, that it could be you, can prod you to a state of heightened empathy. Still, there is a strange comfort that arises from the thought that such deaths are, in a perverse, disconnected way, anonymous. And the less you are connected to such deaths, the more abstract they seem.

Such is the odd and unsatisfying knowledge that although death visited itself upon thousands, at least you didn't know them. Not personally anyway. And not their friends or family, hopefully.

A few evenings back, I heard there was a terrible accident justs two blocks from where I work. The following morning, newspaper reports told the story of the accident---a motorist collided with a bicyclist and the bicyclist, a 27 year old man, died. Having lost a friend in a bicycling fatality two years ago, I found myself feeling one thing: please let this person be a complete stranger. The newspaper didn't identify him pending notification of his family.

The following morning his identity was revealed with harsh impact. We didn't know him but we know his parents who we recently befriended. They live in our neighborhood. We have many friends in common. Our children attended the same schools. It turns out his parents were traveling in Italy when they got the call that is every parents' worst nightmare. His mother is a gifted musician who founded an all-woman steel drum band, the kind that cranks out happy music that can keep you dancing for hours.

My feelings of sorrow and loss for our friends cannot be captured in words. Such feelings were once abstract in my life, but with the unexpected loss of my brother several years ago, I discovered a new kind of grief. I feel that kind of grief for our friends now.

Dreams About Flying and Finals

2008-05-30T08:28:00.001-07:00

I guess I'm not so weird after all. Turns out a couple of my recurring dreams are shared by many. Not every last detail, thankfully, but the gist of these recurring dreams is surprisingly common. One dream is liberating and magical, the other a harsh dose of "I'm in college-age deep shit now and I can't believe I let this happen".

THE FLYING DREAM: In this one, I develop the supernatural ability to fly. I fly over beautiful landscapes, arms outstretched, dreamily euphoric. Sometimes I ascend to great heights, then zoom low for a better look, effortlessly maneuvering around majestic rock outcroppings. Occasionally I fly indoors, often in gymnasiums where my ability to slam dunk draws gasps from the crowd.

I am told that such drams are a sign of good mental health. Sounds reasonable, but why then do I sometimes find myself surrounded by a forest of high electrical lines threatening immediate death by electrocution?

THE UNEXPECTED FINAL EXAM DREAM: This one leads to a restless sleep. I find myself back in college near the end of a term. Suddenly I realize that for the last few months, I haven't attended any classes, read any of the material or prepared for finals in the slightest way. What to do? Is there any way to avoid failure? And what would failure mean in my life? How could I, a normally responsible person with a record of solid academic achievement to that point, allow this to happen? Oh, the horror!

I hear it's fairly common to experience "worst nightmare" dreams too, so I guess I'm not as neurotic as I once thought. In real life, I don't think I'm neurotic at all. So why does this dream pop into my sleepy brain several times a year? Is there part of me that needs reminding that if I don't stay responsible, the consequences will be bad? That people will think of me as being an undependable flake with a questionable reasoning skills?

In truth, I've had far worse dreams than the recurring final exam dream. The one that really bothers me deals with death and has me as the central figure in an unsolved murder. When this dream starts getting really ugly, there's nothing I like more than waking up to remind myself that hey, it was just a dream.

My favorite dreams? Once every couple years, sometimes when I'm in a foreign land, my dream takes on a quality so realistic that I am find myself completely immersed as if the dream is actually real, and in the dream, I am interacting with a historic figure at an important point in time. In such dreams, the experience is so poignant that in my mind, the dream is inexplicably real. Once when I was in Paris, I had a dream in which Napolean and I spent a few enjoyable days of friendship together. This was pre-Waterloo and his later exile. "Nappy", as I called my newfound chum, was musing to me about his rise to power, the joys of conquest and sharing personal thoughts in the way close friends do. Another time, back in the days of pirates, I walked the streets of Christiansted, St Croix in the US Virgin Islands on a night with scattered clouds and a full moon, savoring every moment of danger and intrigue. Although both dreams occurred years ago, they are permanently etched on the bedrock of my memory, both occupying a treasured place.

I never studied dream interpretation and don't pretend to understand what all this nocturnal nonsense is about, but I must admit, for the most part dreams are wonderful things. Very often my dreams are whacky as hell but there's something about how the sleeping mind works that fills me with gratitude. With a few notable exceptions.

Michael Franti and Spearhead

2008-05-22T21:09:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow night Michael Franti and Spearhead are performing at The Cuthbert Ampitheatre in Eugene, Oregon and I'll be there, rain or shine. I'm amazed how many folks remain unfamiliar with this band. I give them my highest recommendation.

Franti and Spearhead are Jamaican and at times, they sound totally reggae but that's not their whole deal, not by a long shot. They have a world beat sound, they rock like crazy and their music compels you to move.

Best of all, they have a message---in the best tradition of artists like Bob Marley and John Lennon, theirs is a message of peace and of revolution. Their lyrics raise important questions about the true motives behind most modern wars and they have a fresh way of articulating their skepticism about political leaders worldwide.

Add it all up, and it's easy to understand why so many are hopping on the Spearhead bandwagon. Their fans are mostly young latter-day hippies with a fondness for herb. Yup, tomorrow night should be great fun. I'll let you know.

Barack Photo

2008-05-16T17:18:00.001-07:00

My friend Shannon Walker, an excellent photographer by the way, managed to catch a shot of my conversation with Barack Obama. As you can see, Secret Service pulled in tight to make sure nothing weird happened. I'm still buzzing about my encounter with the man I hope will be our next president.

My Conversation With Barack Obama

2008-05-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

Life's greatest moments often come when you least expect them. My conversation with Barack Obama last night certainly falls in that category.

I first learned of Barack long before he was a national figure because my late brother Steve, a prominent journalist in Chicago and nationally, sort of "discovered" him. At the time, Obama held no office and was running for a position in the Illinois State Legislature. Steve's life in journalism and his lifelong interest in politics had put him in the company of every president from Nixon to W, and Steve was a person with a keen eye for serious political talent.

In Barack Obama, Steve saw a remarkably intelligent and charismatic person, and he said so in several of his regular columns in the Chicago Sun Times. In fact, I understand that Steve was the first journalist to compare Obama with JFK and to predict that someday he could occupy the White House. I know Steve would have been thrilled to see this prediction come true.

Last night, I was attending a track meet in Eugene where the US Olympic Trials in track and field will take place next month. Quite unexpectedly, Barack Obama showed up---he's campaigning in Oregon, of course, because our presidential primary election is next week.

As Obama made his way through the surprised crowd shaking hands, he passed directly in front of me, and as we shook hands I asked him if he remembered Steve Neal. What happened next will stay with me forever. Obama froze, changed expressions, and focused his eyes sharply on mine saying "Of course I remember Steve Neal". I explained that Steve was my brother and Obama said "Steve said many very favorable things about me early in my career, and although he was well respected for his objectivity, his columns were extremely helpful to me at that point". He more or less said that he might not be where he is today if Steve hadn't jump started his career through the power of his columns in the Chicago Sun Times.

Barack has met Steve's widow, Susan, and his two daughters, both recent college grads, and was very aware of Steve's tragic and unexpected suicide in 2004. He asked how the family was doing and asked specifically about the girls. We wished each other well, he had a brief pleasant exchange with my wife, and then he moved on.

Altogether we spoke for a minute or two. We were surrounded by Secret Service and a throng of admirers, all no doubt wondering why Obama was spending so much time talking to me. I was already a stalwart Obama supporter, but my close encounter confirmed what I thought, namely, that he's even more powerful up close. Barack has an obvious captivating aura of goodness and wisdom. He's a unique politician with a special ability to excite, inspire and unite our country like nobody we've seen for generations.

Steve was far ahead of the curve in identifying Obama's star qualities. Other than JFK, who was the last American as capable of inspiring hope in our country or worldwide as Barack Obama? In a world where hopes and dreams are continually diminished by frightening developments and new threats, no force can match the power of hope. More than anything, I pray that our country chooses Obama in November. Our best prospect for changing the dark reality visited upon us by our current leadership, and for renewing worldwide admiration and respect for our country, lies with Barack Obama.

Eric Clapton's New Autobiography: "Slowread"

2008-05-08T08:46:00.000-07:00

Ever since Cream's debut, I've been a big Eric Clapton fan. Among the artists of his generation, few have managed to evolve over the decades in such admirable fashion. In interviews, Clapton presents himself as a thoughtful, articulate and humble soul. When his autobiography was released recently, I was interested to learn more about the man. Bad decision.

To his credit, Clapton acknowledges that his drug addiction and alcoholism caused him to behave terribly and hurt many for over twenty years. He admits that he was a shallow, womanizing lout whose sole contribution to the world came in the form of music. Well done Eric.

So what's my problem with the book? Let's start with this---it's a boring read with little in the way of unexpected revelation or meaningful insights. Eric could've used a stronger ghost writer. Second, while he admits a modicum of bad behavior over the years, he tries to pass off a lifetime's worth of despicable acts by pointing toward a poor family support structure, neatly absolving himself of true responsibility for carrying on like a complete asshole for twenty plus years.

Third, I am troubled by his refusal to offer the slightest comment on any world issue at any point in his 40+ year career. He addresses this with a sentence or two at the end of the book by saying something about how this would detract from his musical presentation and that he just isn't that interested. I'm not buying that. My interpretation of his comments about values and his penchant for rifle hunting with $10,000 collector shotguns on private English game preserves makes me think he knows he would alienate much of his audience if he spoke openly about his political views.

And if his fans knew that he was indeed an asshole, would he continue having the financial clout to buy 150 foot luxury yachts and mansions throughout the world? For Eric, I get the impression that simply wouldn't do.

2008-05-06T16:45:00.000-07:00

See Kevin Costner In Concert For Just $70?

2008-05-06T08:29:00.000-07:00

It was in today's news. Yup, Kevin Costner is coming to Eugene, Oregon to play a concert heading his "Western rock band Modern West" at Eugene's lovely Hult Center. Tickets can be had for a mere $70. On reading this, my wife said she wouldn't pay that much to see him act---I view which I suspect is widely held.

To Costner's credit, he is coming to Eugene to help raise money for a cause he supports: baseball. Costner is from Fullerton, California and it happens that Cal State-Fullerton has enjoyed tremendous success in college baseball, largely because they had a great coach, George Horton, who happens to be a Costner buddy. Well, the University of Oregon just launched a college baseball program and managed to lure Horton from Fullerton to Eugene to coach the new Duck baseball team. And the team needs money, which I guess is why Costner is charging $70 per ticket.

I support Costner's willingness to help the University of Oregon have its own Field of Dreams, but not for $70. Maybe it would have been better if Kevin just wrote a check to support his old friend's new baseball program.

Kite Runner

2008-04-30T10:26:00.000-07:00

Great literature, like anything truly great, is rare indeed. Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini is a modern example of great literature. I know this is old news to most folks but having just finished it, I can't help but spread the gospel.

For me, having just returned from the Middle East, my appetite for reading material which might enrich my understanding of the Muslim world is far from quenched. Hosseini's remarkable description of life in Afghanistan contributes greatly to my limited grasp of all things Islam.

I would say that reading this book might even make you a better person. Really. Kite Runner is about to be released as a major motion picture. Mixed feelings there. So often the movie version of great literature not only dissappoints, it cheapens and deludes people into thinking they know something when the sole means of gaining real meaning is by reading the damn book.

My First Music Video

2008-04-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Todd Zeller at EdenZ films, I am now the excited owner of a music video. Anyone can watch it on youtube. Check it out---

I'm hoping that this promotional video, complete with concert footage, still photos and a voiceover by me blabbering about my musical life, will be the tool that enables me to get a bunch of gigs at music festivals far and wide. Time to crank up the marketing machine. Oh wait, I don't really have one of those. Fact is, if there's one aspect of the music scene for which I have little stomach or patience, it's the business side of things. Which is why my gigging schedule has been replaced lately by my other commitments---representing poor people in court, trying to develop sustainable, affordable housing, stuff like that. All of which takes time.

This is NOT a complaint because, damn, I'm a lucky guy with a pretty fine life. But if I could change one thing, it would be that the world of music was a more welcoming, accessible place. Maybe with this video, the tiny little crack in that door will get a touch wider.

Zombies of Broadway

2008-04-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

Remember Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics? Now he's into Broadway and having a lot of success. Nick Haramis has a cool post about it on BlackBook.com

"Dave Stewart, one-half of Brit duo Eurythmics, has been producing sweet sonic dreams for the past two decades. Now, with the release of his new comic book, Zombie Broadway, Stewart plans to try his hand at nightmares. Well, not really. In his “horror-comedy-musical graphic novel,” Stewart’s zombies are “Just Like Us!"—they eat candy, Broadway musicals put them to sleep—only deader. Says Stewart, “[The comic] has helped me focus my songwriting and set designs for the Broadway musical that this story is destined to become.” The book, 56 blood-red pages of gore and Gypsy, is accompanied by an animated trailer."

Accidental Bastard

2008-04-18T11:22:00.001-07:00

Relationships are tough. Everyone knows that. Those few souls who claim to never argue or fight aren't fooling anybody. Generally speaking, when we disappoint or anger the person we love, we know in advance that this will happen. But not always. Have you ever encountered anger or disappointment from your loved for no good reason? I thought so. Well, I just wrote a song about this topic. It's called "Accidental Bastard". I've performed this song to enough folks by now to know that I've stumbled onto a pretty universal human experience.

"Things were going well enough,
The forecast was benign.
Probably shoulda let the cork stay put
On the second bottle of wine."

For some, the odds of a chance encounter with domestic strife increase when alcohol pays a visit. Sound familiar?

"But the cabernet was superb that night,
Color like purple ink.
As her synapses started to misfire, her words........
Made my heart sink."

I get excited when I write a new song. Usually the creation of a new song, for me, starts with the lyrics. Then I put together a chord sequence and rhythmic groove to match the emotional feel of the song. Sometimes it takes a while before I'm satisfied. Often the song ends up in the junk pile of discarded ideas. But with "Accidental Bastard", I was in Egypt beside the Red Sea when the inspiration for this song struck. I spent several enjoyable hours tunesmithing this one and I must say I'm pleased with the result. I hope to record it soon but will probably wait until I have a few more solid tunes in the hopper.

"She said I was shallow and narcissistic
With a hopelessly uncommited heart.
Said I'm shallow and self-absorbed
With an undersized body part".

Ouch. It pleases me to tell you that these particular insults are not based on personal experience.

"Don't trouble yourself with the memory
Of things she didn't mean to say.
For her, it's like it never happened.
For me, it doesn't easily fade."

These verses unfold in the soft, resigned voice of someone who sadly accepts this part of his life and chooses to accept it, hopefully because it happens rarely. The chorus of "Accidental Bastard" is much more forceful, delivered in the style of early Elvis Costello or Mark Knopfler with a touch of anger:

"I'm an accidental bastard,
Inadvertant s. o. b.
You know I've got nothin' but love for you
But you only place blame on me.
Yea accidental bastard,
With a conscience clear as gin.
Self-defense is pointless.
There's no......
Way to win."

So to all you accidental bastards, take comfort in the knowledge that you're in good company. And that your feelings are now validated in song.

Global Warming's Evil Stepbrother

2008-04-11T21:20:00.000-07:00

Damn those crazy nut jobs who don't believe in global warming. Those irrational folks who think of "An Inconvenient Truth" as a hatchet job. The last thing they need is ammo to use in their effort to minimize the complicated and sinister realities of global warming. Yet here we are, awash in an undeniable shitstorm of unusually crappy, cold, unseasonably nasty weather. As Jon Stewart would say, "Why God, why?"

In the Pacific Northwest, the weather has been brutally, uncommonly, perversely cruel. Accustomed to a winter of rain and persistent cloudiness, this year's weather featured more snow, hail and subnormal temperatures than the Northwest has seen in a looooong time. For example, on the weekend just before April Fool's Day, Portland experienced its latest snow in 57 years.

Those who deny global warming delight in our misery. What's not to love about weather phenomena that runs contrary to the seemingly undeniable deluge of evidence that global warming is real and terrifying? For those who deny, these strange occurrences in our climatic band are touted as proof positive that global warming is bullshit.

Luckily, spring finally arrived in the Northwest today. April 11 seemed like the perfect time for that whimsical flighty bitch Mother Nature. I can't help but think she's either a dimwit or that she has a seriously messed up sense of humor.

For most normal folks, accepting that the planet is getting dangerously warmer while they, personally, experience absurdly cold and uncomfortable temperatures when things are supposed to be warming up is a contradiction not easily explained to the less lucid types that sometimes seem to dominate our population. So come on Mother Nature, get with the program. Surely even you have noticed that the ice caps are melting, greenhouse gases are accumulating at record levels and if we don't make some radical changes fast, we're in deep fecal doodoo.

The Beatles had a song, "Mother Nature's Son", a Paul McCartney number, that was all sweetness and light about the wonders of a simple, natural life. Lately, many artists have given voice to dangers of harsh environmental practices and the impact they have on the planet, so from a musical standpoint, it seems that we're making progress. I think I have a solution to the global warming fake-out we've been experiencing. Let's get Kenny Chesney or one of his Nashville colleagues (colleagues seems to too uppity of a term in this context, I gotta admit) to sing a song about global warming. "You gotta believe, you gotta believe, you gotta believe.......even though it's snowing outside, that the planet is getting warmer....and if we don't fix it...we're all gonna die". Some kinda country drivel like that just might set things right.

Rural Road Rage

2008-04-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

Was he trying to kill me? Sure seemed that way to me. Normally I give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just messin' with me. But if that's all he was doing, why did he come so close to killing me?

I was driving east on Highway 126, a beautiful stretch of road running alongside Fern Ridge Reservoir. Traffic was light. I pulled out to pass the slow moving sedan in front of me and as I drew alongside, he increased his speed to match mine. Hey, no problem dude, except that there's suddenly a car in the oncoming lane closing fast. Things were getting more dangerous by the millisecond. I started to hit the accelerator hard to move past the sedan but realized that of my two options, my prospects for a head-on collision accompanied by a swift death were much greater that way. So I began to brake in an effort to slip behind my chicken-playing friend in the white sedan. That game is a lot less scary if you're not the one in the oncoming lane.

Just then, Mr. White Sedan figured that he could add to the excitement of the moment by slowing down with me, pinning me in the oncoming lane. Thank goodness I just had my brakes relined. At the last possible moment, I hit them harder than my next-lane-neighbor expected and I managed to slip behind him just before the oncoming car had a tough decision of his own to make.

How do you react to something like that? One minute, you're cruising down the road listening to Jackson Browne, the next, you see your life flash before your eyes. I decided to call 911 and to follow the sedan from a safe distance. Mr. White Sedan had other ideas.

He took the next left, a backwoods road he seemed to know well. I pursued, cell phone in hand. Oddly, his license plate started with the three letters WMD. How fitting. Not wanting to make nice, Mr. White Sedan flew the coop, pulling away at speeds in excess of 100 mph. I lost him at the first intersection.

The police tried to find him but my description left a lot to be desired---a white car of unknown make with a driver I couldn't identify and no license plate other than WMD. And since I didn't actually die, or even have an accident, this incident wasn't aggravated enough to qualify Mr. White Sedan for America's Most Wanted. I understand that. But I'll never understand him, or people like him.

Over the last couple weeks, I've been working on a new song called "Accidental Bastard". I'll tell you more about this tune in a week or two. Mr. White Sedan is not that kind of bastard. Enjoy your weekend. Drive safely.

My Sustainable Side

2008-03-27T18:54:00.000-07:00

I like things that last. Things that are sustainable. These days, sustainability is a buzzword, and though I'm not a big fan of buzzwords, I consider this a good one. If as a civilization we built more things to last, by definition, we would reduce waste and diminish our consumption of short-lived, wasteful, energy consuming products.

These thoughts are not inspired by the Egyptians but being there increased my appreciation for buildings that stand the test of time. Their pyramids and temples are powerful examples of building for the long term.

Buildings in recent times are constructed with little thought given to longevity. Most builders and developers think in terms of getting profits and getting them quickly. That's hard to do when you spend more than the least amount necessary to build something. The problem with such thinking? As the old adage states, it's penny wise and pound foolish.

Why do I care and how have I learned about such stuff? Recently I've been involved in a creative new housing project designed for students at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Before embarking on my project, I did my research attempting to defy gravity in my effort to climb the learning curve. With the help of many people, I obtained a speedy, high quality education. And as a result, I am a big believer in sustainable building practices.

I try to be the same way with my music---I try to write songs that stick with you, songs that have something to say and I try to avoid writing trite little tunes that ride modern pop trends in pursuit of mass audience appeal. Not that I would mind having mass audience appeal. Not one bit. But that's really tough and success is such an unpredictable thing and what is success anyway?

With a building project, you succeed if you finish it and it pleases you. Well, it pleases me to build something that creates an appealing living environment, something that is visually striking and something which will endure, buildings which evoke a positive emotional response.

Consider windows for a moment. Did you know that vinyl windows, although inexpensive and functional, have a useful life of about 20 years, that they have a tendency to leak in rainy environments and that they don't have a particularly high energy value? Spend 30% more for your windows and you can get a fiberglass window frame with a 250 year useful life, less leakage and higher energy values, plus they are more attractive windows. Why not spend the extra money? Without a doubt, everybody wins when society spends the extra money to build using sustainable building practices.

As it turns out, many building materials available these days at a slightly higher cost than the cheap crap most folks use have the combined virtues of a much longer life, better energy performance and improved appearance. What's not to like? True, buying the cheap crap saves money in the short run. Why not think long term?

As we gain more knowledge about sustainable building practices, we will embrace them as a society. Here in my home town, I'm proud to say that this is a big thing. And yet, most builders still prefer CP (cheap crap) building methods. Makes no sense. Spread the word---sustainability. Guitar players covet the quality of sustain in their instruments. Nobody uses sustain musically better than Carlos Santana. Let us spread sustain like a religion throughout our culture. Let us nurture our society by embracing things that last.

Reflections on the Middle East

2008-03-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Whew, finally catching my breathe after returning from my 3 week tour of the Middle East. It will take time to put it all in perspective but a few things stand out.

If you don't like to see weapons, don't go to the Middle East. Armed security is present everywhere. After a while, uniformed men toting machine guns seem like wallpaper---they just blend in with the surroundings. But the initial sight of so much security required some adjustment. Remember after 9/11 when, for a while, our airports were staffed with soldiers holding rifles? For Americans, this was a sobering and shocking reminder that we had been attacked, but the soldiers disappeared soon enough. In the Middle East, they never disappear. And as one travels from city to city by road, armed security checkpoints are frequent. Buses travel in convoys. Soldiers guard even the most obscure historic sites, mostly looking bored and weary. We saw one soldier in Cairo going home from work dragging his rifle on the sidewalk like an unneeded cane.

The Middle East is hopelessly confused about it's place in the modern world. What to wear, for example. Let's see, shall I put on the bhurka today to respect my religious beliefs and if I'm a woman, is it enough to just cover my head or should I cover my entire face leaving only the tiniest slit for my eyes? Or shall I dress modern-style? Sometimes they find ways to accessorize, combining old with new, the craziest example of which was a twenty-ish lady with skin-tight blue jeans, a red playboy bunny shirt and a traditional head scarf.

When it comes to cell phones, they make American usage patterns seem modest. After a while, cell phone use while riding camels, horses and donkeys seemed normal, and there's certainly no better way to while away the hours herding goats than by texting or talking on the phone.

I expected to encounter the anti-western negativity for which the Middle East is notorious. I didn't. This is not to say that they embrace all things American, but they admire American spirit, style, openness to change and, of course, wealth. Unlike the Saudis and those in Dubai, to name a few, Egypt and Jordan are very poor countries.

They love American music, though quite unfortunately, their primary exposure seems to come in the form of sappy pop a la Celine Dion. How sad for them. I'm delighted to say that my Americana material was received quite enthusiastically, and contrary to my expectations, my anti-W tune "Crawford" seemed quite unnecessary and wasn't well understood. They love guitar. Many had never seen an American-style acoustic guitar up close.

More than anything, I wanted to gain an understanding of the fault lines in the Mideast, especially in Israel. The more I learned, the less I knew. Warfare, conquest and tribal disunity has been a tenet of their society since the dawn of recorded history. The average person from the Middle East has no more interest in killing than you or me, but for a few of them, killing defines their lives and seems the purest expression of their twisted beliefs. Is this something anyone can change? How I wish I could find reason for optimism here, but I can't.

But people are people, the human connections I made were full of vitality and meaning and I return from the Middle East seeing the world through new eyes. And with immense gratitude for the blessings and privileges and beauty we often take for granted in the USA. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of that.

Bloodshed In Jerusalem

2008-03-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

Just one week after leaving Jerusalem, I received the shocking news that eight students were killed not far from our hotel. Violent attacks in Jerusalem had become relatively infrequent but with mounting tensions in Gaza, some form of reprisal by the most violent Palestinian faction was inevitable.

I'm in Cairo, Egypt at the moment, about to board a plane for home. Internet access was spotty throughout my time in the Middle East which is why I didn't post more frequently. I have many stories to tell, mostly gratifying tales of a world which I will now see through slightly different eyes, a world in which differences begin to diminish as common ground grows. A world based on the power of simple human connections.

How naive such talk sounds in the wake of eight dead in Jerusalem. Yet I think back to discussions I had with real Palestinians, people who inspired my optimism about the possibilities for a brighter tomorrow, and can't help but think that our biggest obstacle is an inability to identify the terrorists among us, all over the world.

Time to board our plane. I wish you all peace.

From Jerusalem to Jordan

2008-03-04T00:02:00.000-08:00

In a place defined by its differences and profound disunity, I am struck by the unifying power of one thing: music. Climbing up a steep, rocky canyon in Petra, Jordan we arrived at an ancient stone monastary. I brought my guitar. A Bedouin man, a sheepherder about 20 years old, was playing a lute. He and his friends noticed my guitar and asked me to play. Within moments, our worlds merged.

Soon, they were asking if I knew any Bob Marley. I offered them "Stir It Up" which was close enough. One of them was wearing a t-shirt showing the cover of The Beatles "Let It Be" album, so I played "Let It Be". They hadn't heard it, but they liked it all the same. In fact, they didn't seem to know any Beatles songs and I'm not sure they knew anything about The Beatles despite the t-shirt's evidence to the contrary.

These Bedouins operate a small cafe and souvenir business in this remote location. Profits are surely hard to come by. Still, they offered Turkish coffee on the house. We enjoyed the coffee, some good laughs and left as friends.

In Jerusalem and throughout Israel, our experiences with Jews and Palestianians alike were profoundly similar. Put people face to face with one another, play some music and friendships are born. Such a simple formula. Spread the word. Spread the music. Peace may yet come.

Heading East

2008-02-20T08:22:00.000-08:00

Catch a flight from Portland to Frankfurt, then Frankfurt to Tel Aviv. Take the highway to Jerusalem and check into our hotel, one chosen by our travel agent, the "American Colony" (not too crazy about his selection). This is how I will spend the next 30 hours or so.

Last minute packing details. Let's see, did I throw in an extra set of guitar strings? Yup. Good thing too since guitar strings, like nearly everything else but sand, are pretty scarce in most of the places I'll be going. An extra battery, no, make it two extra batteries, for my digital camera. Throw in the extra memory chip because I plan to take lots of pictures.

Any point in packing the cell phone? I'm told that service is scarce and the roaming charges will eat you alive. As a habitual last minute packer, the fact that I'm posting a blog at this critical moment tells you a lot about Americana Dan's commitment to posting on a weekly basis (I've been waiting for 21 weeks to refer to myself in the third person---I promise never to to do it again).

So many people ask "Aren't you worried about your safety?" Not really. We were reminded a couple days ago that not all terrorists worship Allah. Some are normal-seeming Americans who root for their local football team, graduate college and just go crazy, leaving this world tragically in bloodshed, violence and death nobody saw coming. When your times up, its up.

I'm not sure whether next week's post will come from Israel or Jordan, but if I can find internet access, I'll be here. I hope to have stories of exotic sites and interesting musical experiences. May we all travel safely, whether home or abroad.

Valentine's Day: Love and Birth

2008-02-14T14:35:00.000-08:00

For most folks, Valentine's Day is a day of love. For some, it's a day of birth. And since birth should be a product of love, any birth on Valentine's Day represents a harmonic convergence. Love and birth, a transcendent combination, a divine intervention.

For my family, this Valentine's Day will forever shine brighter than any such day in our history. Why? Because today, my brother and his wife produced twins, a boy and a girl. Talk about hitting the Valentine's Day jackpot. We share their joy for an occasion that promises many happy returns. One thing is for sure----Valentine's Day will never be quite the same in his happy household. Birthday cakes, not chocolates. Birthday parties, not quiet, romantic dinners. Birthday presents AND Valentine's Day presents (for his wife) if my brother is half as smart as I think he is.

Not all Valentine's Day births involve babies. As a native Oregonian, one of those rare fifth-generation Oregonians no less, I am very aware that February 14th is Oregon's birthday. On February 14, 1859 Oregon became the 33rd state to be admitted to the Union. Next year, Oregonians will celebrate their sesquicentennial as my niece and nephew celebrate their first birthday. I love Oregon and gladly celebrate it's birthday every Valentine's Day. I love it so much I even wrote a song about it (called "Oregon"; the song is more original than the title suggests). Now I have something new to celebrate every February 14.

So much music involves the topic of love, so little deals with the topic of birth, and that's probably a good thing. Now, as for songs about twins, I did a little research today and found a pretty blank slate. Aside from the old Doublemint jingle ("double your pleasure, double your fun with Doublemint Doublemint Doublemint gum") songs about twins are almost non-existent. Maybe it's time for a new era of songwriting involving twins, triplets and the more painful and risky variations of childbirth---quads, quints, etc. As for me, I think I'll limit my creative endeavors to other topics. My final thought on this Valentine's Day: Here's wishing that on this Valentine's Day and forever, my brother's new twins double his pleasure and double his fun. I don't see gum having a prime role in this happy arrangement.

Upcoming Tour To Israel, Jordan and Egypt

2008-02-07T17:05:00.001-08:00

It's not the most dangerous place on earth. But you can see it from there. I'm calling it the stealth tour. I guess not everyone in the Mideast embraces American cultural values and for some, the more American something is, the less they like it.

And after all, you may wonder, what could be more American than Americana music? There's a simple solution---I won't call it that. The label "folk rock" will do just fine. Some of my material calls into question American government policy. Nothing like a good protest song to turn an audience in your favor, provided they agree with your point of view. Some of my material is more likely to get a hostile reaction in Washington D.C. than in the Mideast. I feel good about that.

Of all my songs, the one most likely to resonate with Mideastern sensibilities is almost certainly "Crawford" which you can hear at www.myspace.com/danneal. Whenever I perform "Crawford" in the U.S., I get a rousing response (every now and then, the odd W-supporter takes umbrage, but my odds of winning such people over was never good, and I don't really mind losing such folks as fans---I was bound to piss them off sooner or later). Folks love to hear a good lampooning of W in song and, if I do say so myself, "Crawford" delivers the goods. So I'm betting that in the Mideast, I'll make new friends every time I play it.

My tour starts in Jerusalem, then proceeds to the Dead Sea and Armageddon and Tel Aviv. Why Israel? I don't happen to be Jewish but my Jewish friends confirm what I've always believed about Israel, namely, that it's fascinating for its history, archeology and culture.

In Israel, we don't plan any excursions to the West Bank or the Gaza Strip. This means that our odds of having a dangerous encounter are better than if we took an accidental detour from Brooklyn to the Bronx.

After Israel, we will spend a few days in Jordan where a visit to Petra promises to be the high point. If you don't know about this wonder of the ancient world, Google it. Jordan is known as being more pro-western than most countries in the Mideast, which may not be saying much.

From Jordan, we head to Egypt with stops in Cairo, Aswan, Luxor, a few days on the Nile and then to Sharm el-Sheikh on the Red Sea. By the time we leave, I'm hoping to hear hundreds of folks from the Mideast singing "Why don't you go back to Crawford, and leave us alone"----lyrics I'm pretty sure will be richly embraced throughout the region.

Provided I can get internet access, I'll send regular weekly posts from the Mideast. I'll admit to being giddy about the prospect of performing in foreign lands, seeing countless archeological wonders and gaining new cultural insights. I can hardly wait.

When It Rains, It Snows

2008-01-31T13:22:00.001-08:00

Wet, then wetter. Cold, then colder. Dense grey skies for months on end. Welcome to winter in the Great Pacific Northwest. Located at the south end of the Willamette Valley, Eugene winters are described as "mild" by Easterners because of the absence of sub-zero temperatures and the scarcity of snow. That is, until they move here. Then they quickly become familiar with the ugly underbelly of "mild".

"When the rain comes,
They run and hide their heads,
They might as well be dead,
When the rain comes,
When the raaaaaaaain comes."

You know this as "Rain", the quintessential rain song by The Beatles. Thank you, John Lennon, for your pithy words about the topic of rain. Paul McCartney would never write such downer lyrics unless, maybe, the topic was love gone bad. John, on the other hand, sounds like a guy from the Pacific Northwest. I guess Liverpool and Eugene have something in common weatherwise.

Come to think of it, there are plenty of songs about rain. Other than love songs, it's hard to think of a topic that has inspired as many tunes as the weather, especially rain and its friendly counterpart, the sun. But this post is about rain. Songwriters demonstrate little interest in the less temperate forms of precipitation: hail, sleet and snow. I invite you to suggest a logical reason for this.

Ever wonder why there are so many rain songs? Because when it rains, songwriters stay inside and fiddle around, like everyone else, but they do their fiddling with actual musical instruments. And like everyone else, rain stimulates boredom, so they write about what's in front of them. For songwriters, the struggle for new material is ongoing and one's imagination only gets them so far. In other words, songwriters see rain, get depressed by rain, get bored by the rain which leads, in turn, to writing about rain. Sometimes they write about rain and love at the same time. For example,

"Listen to the rhythm of the pouring rain,
Tellin' me just what a fool I've been."
Bla bla bla

If you don't know this song, "Rhythm of the Rain", check it out. It's a lovely piece of early 60's pop built, like most songs of that era (and most eras) on very little substance, but it still made most folks feel good in a melancholy yet upbeat sort of way.

There are so many songs about rain that you can buy a compilation cd with over 20 songs by various artists on that topic. And this scarcely scratches the surface of songs about rain. Not surprisingly, the common denominator of these songs, other than rain itself, is that they all convey some degree of melancholy-ness, ranging from drearily, depressingly sad to somewhere slightly north of ambivalent, as in the aforementioned "Rhythm of the Rain".

The Willamette Valley is experiencing a bit of snow at the moment. Quite a bit, in fact. Folks around here are ill-prepared for snow. They drive at a crawl if they drive at all and school officials can be depended upon to close the schools at the sight of the first snowflake. When the snow retreats, the rain appears, followed by volleys of back-and-forth precipitation changes. Dueling precipitation, weather wars.

Other weather variants that sometimes receive the attention of songwriters are hurricanes, cyclones and lightning. Remember "Lightnin' Strikes"? A happy song about lightning and love, a divine combination. Songwriters just can't steer clear of the love/weather tandem. Then, of course, there are the songs about wind. There's even a hilarious mockumentary, "The Mighty Wind", which isn't really about wind but is all about music---the folk music scene of the 60's.

Then there are songs which trick you into thinking they are about rain but really aren't, like Bob Dylan's "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35". Why he decided to give this song (you remember, "....everybody must get stoned") that particular name remains a mystery, at least to me.

I was 16 years old the first time I entered a recording studio with my first band, "Spectrum", and we recorded two songs, one of which was "One More Rainy Day". Yup, it was melancholy. And not very good, but hey, we were kids.

Maybe it's time for someone to break the boring, predictable cycle of rain, which leads to sad feelings, which leads to rain songs. I volunteer to be the first to write a happy song about rain. Stay tuned. This might take a while.

W's Answer To The Recession Blues

2008-01-24T09:07:00.000-08:00

If you happen to be a real estate developer or own a bank, chances are you're in deep shit at the moment. The terminal drag of recession keeps pushing developers and subprime lenders closer to the cliff's edge. Even normal folks, millions of them, are feeling the pain, not that W noticed those anguished cries. But when the losses entered the trillions and financial markets worldwide began to plummet, even W couldn't continue missing the obvious. Or maybe it was just that fact that if you removed the banker/investment tycoon-types from W's inner circle, you'd discover an empty room.

While our president rode the coattails of a superheated economy, and the value of everybody's home seemed to double or triple, nobody in the upper reaches of government seemed very inclined to consider that something might be terribly wrong. Now we know that something actually was quite wrong since millions of ordinary folks are having their homes foreclosed. Why did this happen? You probably know. During this period, the geniuses in the lending world created a method of allowing nearly anyone to qualify for loans they couldn't really afford to pay back. Through the use of "teaser rates", folks with marginal incomes were able to pay their mortgage until the tease ended, usually within 1-3 years. Then the ARMs kicked in and mortgage payments jumped out of reach for most borrowers in the subprime market. This was a recipe for two things: phase one, a huge run up in prices. Phase two: epidemic foreclosures.

For most musicians, this is more an issue of passing interest than of personal experience. You see, the average musician is a renter. Financial rewards for the musical types distribute themselves quite unevenly, with those at the very top reaping a grossly disproportionate share of the revenues generated by the industry, to a larger extent than just about any other slice of the economy. But I digress.

Now that this issue has finally captured W's attention, it is heartening to see that he is proposing legislation which will finally come to the aid of, well, uh, Citigroup, Inc., Merrill Lynch & Co., Morgan Stanley and Bear Stearns Co. Oh, also homebuilders. These entities will be allowed to recover billions of lost dollars through new legislation. Funny thing is that despite the housing slump, these same companies have made larger profits than ever these past few years. Not the homebuilders. They are pretty much screwed for the foreseeable future.

As for the ordinary folks who are losing their homes, W is proposing a stimulus package (do you suppose W himself has a stimulus package?) that will allow qualifying taxpayers to obtain "rebates of several hundred dollars". Golly, that's mighty big-hearted of him. But hey, at least the banks will come out ok.

My advice: consider becoming a musician.

Music and Cars: Evaluate Your Karma

2008-01-17T13:45:00.000-08:00

Americans love their cars. And whenever America loves anything, music is sure to follow. This connection initially flourished in the sixties. The Beach Boys alone were responsible for a bundle of car classics such as "Little Deuce Coupe", "409", "Fun Fun Fun", "Shut Down" and many more. Oddly, their song Little Honda was about a crappy motorcycle. Who would have guessed that Honda would eventually becomes one of the world's largest automakers?

Whenever there is musical success in a new genre, copycats are close behind. There were songs about Chevys, Fords, GTO's, Cobras and, of course, Cadillacs. These days we rarely hear new songs about cars. Is it because folks are less passionate about the automobile? I doubt it. Seems to me that songwriters have just moved on to other subjects, mostly the same old relationship-type subjects as always, and that the genre of car songs was a passing fancy. Except, of course, in the world of country music in which it is considered normal to love your pickup as much as your wife, kids and dog.

Want proof that people are as passionate today about their car? Talk to a Prius owner (I'm married to one). They love the way their car symbolizes their commitment to a cleaner environment and reduced dependence on oil, foreign and otherwise.

At the world's largest trade show for the automobile, the Detroit Auto Show which ended two days ago, a new hybrid was unveiled: the Fisker Karma. What a beauty. The Karma looks like a Maserati, costs $80,000, goes from zero to 60 in under 6 seconds and can travel 50 miles on battery power alone. I can already hear the advertisement, "Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma chameleon......" Boy George and the Culture Club can hardly wait to collect their royalties.

Nothing like using a song in a car add to ruin it. Remember Bob Seger's "Like A Rock". How many hundreds of times did you have that while Chevy tried to sell you a pickup? That song alone was responsible for me learning how to punch the mute button with the speed of a gunslinger.

But "Like A Rock" was just the warm up act for Chevy's latest advertising atrocity: John "Cougar" Mellencamp's "This Is Our Country". This trite piece of Americana drivel is overplayed enough to induce mass vomiting attacks with its cloying use of patriotic imagery, all in the name of selling another Chevy pickup. How could he sell out so badly? It's not like he was a poor man. I hear he's on the campaign trail for John Edwards, along with Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt, two musicians I greatly admire. Jackson and Bonnie, and Mr. Edwards too, please jump ship. Send Mellencamp back to Indiana now. Or better yet, tell him he can stay only if he demands that Chevy pull that awful song.

Karma eventually has something in store for us all. Mellencamp's is definitely falling. I think Barack's is rising. John F. Kennedy liked to say: "A rising tide lifts all boats." So I'll close this post about music and cars by talking about boats. Let's hope all of our boats rise with the tide of 2008.

Music and Performance Enhancing Drugs

2008-01-10T10:48:00.000-08:00

The link between musicians and drugs is the stuff of rock legend. Drug usage among musicians is as common as the cold. Did it start in the 30's with African American jazz musicians or sometime earlier? Who knows. Chances are the pharoah's favorite lute player was smokin' reef with the eunochs down by the Nile in 2500 BC.
These days, stories of drug usage by athletes dominate the headlines. From Barry Bonds to Roger Clemens, baseball's modern stars have shattered records and extended their careers through the use of illegal performance enhancing drugs. Nearly every sport is tainted by such drug usage, from the professional cycling to Olympic track to football and even golf! Whenever you see someone who has bulked up virtually overnight, you know drugs have played a part.
Musicians used to occupy a somewhat unique role as society's most conspicuous drug users. Who would've guessed that our professional athletes, of all things, would usurp this position?
Of course, the motivations are different. Musicians tend toward drugs as a form of escapism primarily, though it is undeniable that some of music's most sublime innovations would never have occurred without the influence of drugs. My favorite example is Jimi Hendrix who transformed himself from an ordinary musician into history's most creative, brilliant guitarist while under the influence of some divine yet ultimately destructive combination of drugs.
Athletes, on the other hand, use drugs to improve their performance and thereby generate more fame and fortune (ok, sometimes they party with them too). The recent use of performance enhancing drugs by athletes reminds me of the old Crossroads story in which Robert Johnson made a deal with the devil to become the greatest blues guitar player alive. He died young of an apparent poisoning thereby lending credence to the "deal with the devil" fable.
Modern athletes makes their own deal with the devil when they use steroids and human growth hormones. Their nuts shrink, their complexions go bad, their necks get thick and they become emotionally volatile. Quite a Faustian bargain.
Have you seen the new advertisement from Southwest Airlines where a corporate salesperson is being interviewed by the media and questioned about whether "productivity enhancers" contributed to his sudden success? Put on the spot, the agitated salesperson leaves the room in a huff, just like ballplayers do when questioned about their drug usage.
If I could take a pill that would let me play guitar as fast as Danny Gatton or bend strings like Stevie Ray Vaughan, would I? Let's see, I guess the answer for me is "It depends". If the downside is anything like the ugly stuff caused by the performance enhancers, count me out. There's a lesson for everyone in this, isn't there? We're all much better off if we genuinely accept what we have and if you strive to improve, do it the old fashioned way, with hard work and dedication.
In the meantime, I'll keep enjoying this modern drug-addled theatre for its high entertainment value. Nothing generates laughter as well as a reality-based farce.

Here Comes 2008

2008-01-01T10:10:00.000-08:00

Of all the things that help us mark the passage of time, nothing competes with New Year for calling universal attention to the change. People get all nostalgic, looking at the past with a strange fondness and considering the future in a uniquely hopeful sort of way.

I love how the coming of each new year inspires us to try harder and to pursue loftier goals. How long will those commitments last? Probably not long enough but I know that I will enter next year (like this year and last year and every one before that) with the same positive outlook. And why not? Of all life's rhythms, none instills a sense of renewal like the coming of new year.

I find this especially true every fourth year---you know, the years when we have presidential elections? And this year will be very special because thank God, W. has to go back to Crawford. Well, technically I guess that won't occur until January 20, 2009, but at least we will elect a new president next November.

Every fourth year we are also treated to Leap Year as well as the Olympic Games. With all this going on, how can the advent of 2008 not be a time of great anticipation? Speaking of Leap Year, I've never understood why February 29 isn't an international holiday. We stick an extra day on our calendar once every four years and it gets such a ho-hum reception. We celebrate so much meaningless crap, why not celebrate that?

Musically, like everyone else who labors at a craft, I hope that this year I write my best song ever, that I get the breaks that have eluded me in the past and that my best gigs ever happen in 2008. No reason to hope for anything less, right?

Globally, I hope that the world smiles on America in November because we choose a president with a commitment to embrace and support our fellow nations. Maybe I'm a dreamer, but I believe that even as the world gets more complex, through compassion and understanding, and by embracing common values, we can improve our collective lives. No sense in not trying; no harm in believing. Happy New Year.

The Music of Christmas

2007-12-25T13:03:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season and today's the day, Christmas 2007. Every year we hear the same songs, all reminders of the days when Christmas was young and so was I. Pretty much all the songs fell into one of two categories: stuff that was religious and stuff that wasn't.

For me, the religious fare always seemed dated and overly serious. Take "Hark!
The Herald Angels Sing", for example. Who says "hark" anyway? And what's a herald angel and how is it different than an ordinary angel? So many of my church questions were never satisfactorily answered.

Christmas was supposed to be a fun, festive time but the part that involved sitting on hard church pews wasn't fun for this restless child. That's why religious Christmas songs remind me too much of temporary imprisonment and discomfort in the butt. I always found running around on the Oregon beach, even in a windy rainstorm, much more pleasant than sitting in church.

Naturally I always preferred the Christmas songs that didn't sound like church hymns, songs like "Jingle Bells", "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town", later covered so well by Bruce Springsteen. I must admit, though, that years of overexposure to this music, serving as the annual musical backdrop to Christmas, a season patina of sound you can't escape if you try, has diminished my enthusiasm for these tunes.

Ah, but then there's "The Holly and the Ivy" which never fails to coax sentimental tears from my eyes as I remember the sweet voice of my firstborn singing his first Christmas carol. The very thought of it chokes me up still.

Consider how little the artists of the past few generations have contributed to our Christmas musical inventory. There are, of course, countless Christmas albums released by big-time artists in an effort to boost sales and chip away at their contractual obligations to their labels. Some of them manage to squeeze new juice from the well-used fruits of Christmases past but mostly they just recycle the fruitcake.

Do you have a favorite new Christmas song, and in this case, by "new" I mean something released within the last thirty or forty years? For me, the hands down winner is John Lennon's "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)". Capturing the mood of "Imagine" (which stands high on my short list of the greatest songs of all time), Lennon manages to fuse wistful, uplifting Christmas sentiment with an implied plea for everyone to care more about one another and to strive to find common ground with others despite our differences. Thank you John for delivering an eternal message:

"A very Merry Christmas,
And happy New Year,
I hope it's a good one,
Without any fear."

No way I can improve on that. Happy holidays, one and all.

Ellen Is Eighty

2007-12-19T17:55:00.000-08:00

Other people call her Ellen. I call her Mom. She just turned eighty. What better occasion for a surprise birthday party? Most folks have to wait until they're dead before their family and friends gather to say wonderful things about them. To me, that seems a tad late.
My mother is an amazing person. Everyone who knows her says so. I'll start with the obvious---she treats everyone with tremendous dignity and respect. Her personal dignity would blow the doors off the bell-shaped curve (pardon the metaphor mixing). She looks as dignified and lovely as she acts.
She never swears. Unlike some of the "never swear" people, she is self-effacing, good humored and best of all, generally quite tolerant of those whose verbal style includes the liberal sprinkling of off-color language. Which is a good thing since none of the other members of our family hold back---much---in her serene presence.
Mom was a high school teacher for over thirty years. She was one of those rare teachers who was loved and admired by her students. Mom was an excellent pianist, the only female in a touring big band. In her retirement, she works tirelessly for community organizations that provide clothing, support and educational opportunities for the needy. I can't imagine a more perfect mother.
Unlike many surprise parties, this one actually succeeded in surprising the guest of honor, big time. I learned several interesting new things about Mom during the many tributes given in her honor. For example, I learned she had a close-up encounter with her childhood idle, Shirley Temple, when she was 7 years old.
I learned that my dad decided that he wanted to marry her on their second date. Funny thing---Mom didn't know this either until the surprise party and they have been happily married, and in good communication with one another, for almost sixty years.
I learned that my dad, a WW2 vet and a rugged, handsome, big college athlete, didn't attempt so much as a kiss until they had dated many times (seemingly to the surprise and disappointment of my mother---though I wasn't inclined to explore specifics).
The night's entertainment was capped off with a new song I wrote for the occasion entitled "Ellen Is Eighty". In my songwriting, I try to avoid schmaltz at all costs. Songs like "Wonderful Tonight" make me cringe because, well, I just find the schmaltziness overbearing even though I am certainly a sentimental guy at heart.
For the verses and the bridge of "Ellen Is Eighty", I included funny biographical details spanning her life but for the chorus I couldn't help myself---schmaltz reigned supreme. And why not? There's a time and place for opening up and in that perfect context, I held nothing back.
Mom says that her surprise party was the best birthday of her long life and I must say that her memory is well-intact, impressively so. Better than that, before her birthday she insisted that there be no party because she didn't want people to know she had reached that age. Now she says she feels great about it. I think her 80th birthday was the best birthday of my life too.

How American Is Americana?

2007-12-13T12:06:00.000-08:00

America has a bit of a security complex when it comes to the arts. This is not a new thing. Remember studying literature in school? For many of us, our introduction to the formal study of literature came in a class entitled “English Literature”. Only later were we exposed to literature’s poor stepchild, American literature. And what do you know, it seemed that our first literary successes were writers who had mastered the English style of writing.
Later, as the United States began to establish a separate cultural identity, writers such as Mark Twain forged a uniquely American form of writing.
A similar pattern emerged in the visual arts. Artistic innovation was always led by the Europeans and it wasn’t until the 20th century that much of anything remotely meaningful could be labeled American art.
Ah, but then there’s music. For some reason, American artists have succeeded in creating many musical genres over the years. Blues? Definitely American. Jazz? American. Country? American. Rock ‘n’ Roll. American.
Let’s not forget, of course, the father of American music: Stephen Foster. And how about the march? Europeans were always great with orchestras but nobody ever did marches like John Phillip Sousa.
One problem with some of new musical genres created in America is that foreign competition quickly recognized that we had something good going and they appropriated our musical invention to their benefit. Rock ‘n’ roll is probably the best example. How long did it take the British to deliver rock music to new heights? The emergence of rock in 1956 as a truly, uniquely American art form (ignoring the British argument that skiffle also falls in that category, which it does) started a cultural revolution. But in 1964, the Brits claimed, if not ownership, at least clear dominance of rock music, a dominance which continued for years.
But then there’s Americana, my personal favorite. Recognized as a category unto itself for the past 15 years, Americana must, by definition, be regarded as a truly American art form with no room for foreign pretenders. Really, Americana started with Stephen Foster. And isn’t Woody Guthrie best described as an Americana artist---to me, his voice and message embodied so much more than folk music.
So Americana music has been around a long time and is only now getting its just due as a category unto itself. And for what it’s worth, it’s almost 100% American. I say almost because at least one foreign artist, Mark Knopfler, has mastered the form.
Personally, I tip my cap to Knopfler---he seems to have studied plenty of American history and has a knack for capturing the spirit of the old west in some of his songs. Knopfler notwithstanding, Americana music is dominated more than any other genre by American artists.
I’m not one to bang the patriotic drum, but it feels good to have a musical form which, in a way, defines our national identity (and as a bonus, does so outside the odious confines of country music). For me, Americana music feels as good as it sounds. It’s straightforward and honest, and in that way resonates with our common view of what Americans (our current president and his cronies notwithstanding) should be.
Best of all, Americana music springs from all parts of America. Like America itself, Americana is a genre which is a little bit of lots of things---rock, folk, blues, country---and thus it possesses a diversity all its own. God bless Americana, the music from the land that I love.

A Musician´s Santa Claus

2007-12-05T15:02:00.000-08:00

Name a society in which artists as a class are richly rewarded for their artistic achievements. I didn´t think you could. I can´t either. Of course, once artists achive a high level of popularity, material rewards follow. But for most artists, material rewards are meager at best.

This isn´t a complaint. It´s just a statement about how it is. And in light of that, this seems like an appropriate time to thank those who contribute generously in support of the arts. Thanksgiving is just behind us and Christmas is, as they say, just a few shopping days ahead. There are Santa Clauses in our midst and they don´t get the recognition they deserve.

I´m talking about the patrons of the arts. Of course, the seekers of profit also do their bit to support the arts but their motive is clear. And I think it´s a good thing, an obviously indispensable thing that our society includes those willing to risk their own capital with the hope that the public will support the arts and that their will be enough money remaining afterward to pay the artist AND the person willing to put his capital on the line to make it all happen.

The patrons of the arts, on the other hand, have huge hearts. They are willing to give their money away in furtherance of the arts.

In my home town of Eugene, Oregon, we are blessed with many individuals willing to contribute generously in support of the arts. For example, Jim and Ginevra Ralph started The Shedd Institute for the Arts by purchasing a beautiful downtown church from the Baptists and converting it to a combination performing arts hall and center for teaching music. The results have been impressive, both in terms of community enrichment by offering dozens of shows by international artists and by teaching hundreds of people, mostly school age children, more about music.

They didn´t do it by themselves but they were the leaders of the Shedd. They contribute time and money in a very big way.

Most communities have benefactors such as the Ralphs but few are fortunate enough to receive such large scale generosity and support. That´s why the real Santa Clauses for the arts, especially the musical arts, are people like the Ralphs. So to all the many Ralphs out there, thank you very much. Without you, music would not get the exposure it deserves and from which communities benefit so much.

Mexican Musical Madness

2007-11-27T08:52:00.000-08:00

Everything's a ittle out of whack here in Mexico at the moment. Computer access is proving a bigger challenge than anticipated and music is everywhere. Sometimes you can't get rid of it. The incessant throbbing of disco, for example, is for
me an unwelcome sound, an insidious form of noise pollution, not the least bit helped by the nagging presence of a hangover.
Then there's the kareoke. Ouch, another assault on the ears and another speedy getaway. Escape routes fail to present themself quickly enough. What to do? Another margerita perhaps? Join in? Neither option sounds particularly appealing at the moment. Not that I'm looking for sympathy I know I won't get, I am in Mexico after all.
Do bar bands sound the same everywhere? No, but they do seem to share a common set list. Some young edgy looking Mexican musicans did a surprisingly good job of belting out the usual fare, albeit with some interesting lyrics evidently lost in translation. For example, "Old Time Rock 'N' Roll" began with the words "Just put the old sausage on the shelf." And I don't think the lead singer was attempting some clever secondary meaning. I'll give them their due though---they played with good energy and skill. I'd like to hear them play something original.
I had my moments performing my Americana music in Mexico and folks from all over the place seemed to share my enthusiasm, thank you very much. I'm not sure when I'll make it back here but when I do, I plan on bringing better ear protection in case of emergency.

BiPolar Express

2007-11-20T17:46:00.000-08:00

BiPolar Express

How does a musician know when he’s connecting with his audience? Nothing screams audience approval like good old fashioned applause, especially the raucous, spontaneous kind. And then, well, there's always panty throwing of which my personal experience includes none and I’m okay with that.. For me, when someone comes after a show and says, “Hey, you know that song you did about……? That song could’ve been written about my ……” At that moment, you know you're song really struck an emotional chord. Establishing that kind of connection means everything to a musician.

One song that seems to generate this reaction in nearly every show I play is called “BiPolar Express” which is a song about the plight of those who suffer from bipolar disorder, of whom there are many.
I first became aware of bipolar disorder in my work as a public defender. My initial brushes with those who said they were bipolar led me to the erroneous conclusion that some people gave themselves this label to dodge responsibility for their actions. Hopefully I never let them see my inner skepticism and if I did, I am truly sorry now. Years of experience with bipolar suffers has taught me a great deal about the unique problems such folks face.

“Don’t forget your medication

To stabilize your mood,

And don’t forget your hygiene

Fight the impulse to be rude

Do not lock yourself in closets

Keep the weapons out of sight

A bit of exercise will help you

Sleep through the night.”

Exactly one year ago while I was recording BiPolar Express in LA, a tragic death occurred in my hometown, Eugene, Oregon. A 19 year old suffering from bipolar disorder was behaving in a frighteningly irrational, threatening manner with his parents who called the police, and when the young man refused to put down a knife and advanced on the police, he was shot to death. His parents do not blame the police.

My own family includes one member who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Sometimes he stays out of touch for long periods of time and doesn’t respond to attempts at contact. He is only four years older than the young man who died in Eugene. His father has tried for years to help his son deal with the symptoms of this disease. The results are far from encouraging.

“Labels like weird and psycho

Tend to get you so upset,

But there’s no need for violence,

What’s a little disrespect?

Have a drink and check your dosage

Might be time to take a pill.

Pretty soon you’re neutral,

A blissful empty chill.”

The task of managing bipolarity is tricky. Prescriptive meds work wonders once a winning combination is found but finding the right drug or combination of drugs isn’t easy. To compound the challenge, identifying the optimum dose is a trial and error proposition. Then there’s the problem of taking the medication---folks with bipolar have a tendency to forget and some don’t like taking it. Left unmedicated, bipolar sufferers tend to engage on all sorts of negative behaviors.

“Take the BiPolar Express to parallel land,

Where everything is perfect

But it’s all made out of sand.

Colors bright and faces smilin’

On every sunny day,

In comes a little rain, it all goes away.”

To the friends and family members who have told me that this song captures their personal experience with bipolar and means something special to them, I can tell you this: it means something special to me to.

Music, at its best, can have a magical healing quality. Sometimes we find comfort in the knowledge that our personal suffering is shared by others. And sometimes music is the bridge which transports us to that awareness.

2007-11-15T15:00:00.000-08:00

check out this guy's guitar work

Three Days in L.A.

2007-11-13T16:01:00.000-08:00

Three Days In LA

Three long days in LA just went by very fast. I return with a maze of contradictions swirling inside my confused brain. I went to LA to attend an event called the Taxi Road Rally, an annual convention sponsored by, you guessed it, Taxi, which calls itself “The World’s Leading Independent A&R Company”. Taxi members, of which there are over 11,000 including me, may attend the convention free, not counting transportation, lodging at the Westin, food, etc. Why attend? For specialized seminars put on by industry insiders willing to reveal the 6 secrets of this, the 10 secrets of that and the secret handshake too, all of which is pretty much guaranteed to catapult you to a higher tier of the musical food chain. I couldn’t resist.

Any Taxi member in attendance might, if chosen at random, have the opportunity to perform live on a big stage before hundreds of fellow musicians with the tantalizing possibility that one or two actual industry insiders might be in the room. Lucky me, I got to perform and it was the high point of my experience. But it didn’t come easily. In order to play, you had to be present when they pull your name out of a hat. In my case, that happened so late on Friday night that only twenty some folks were still in the auditorium---not exactly prime time---and this was, oddly, the best thing that could have happened. Why? Well, strangely, the next thing that happened was that they closed for the night without putting me on stage. The guy running the show felt so badly about this that he promised me a showcase opportunity on Saturday night.

Sure enough, he put me on-stage Saturday night when things were at their peak. I performed my song “Crawford”, a political rocker which takes some well-earned jabs at the Current Occupant of the White House, and received a rousing ovation. In fact, the crowd liked the message so much that during the course of the song, I received loud applause three different times. Moments such as this explain why I love being a musician. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Not to suggest that it was all nirvana and bliss in LA. Far from it. Which gets me back to the confusion and contradictions. While attending many seminar presentations at the convention, it became evident that the presenters don’t see things in their industry the same way.

Contradiction #1: “Great songs will always be recognized as such and will somehow find their way to a mass audience” vs. “No matter how great a song is, the only realistic chance for it to gain a mass audience is by first having massive exposure”.

Contradiction #2: “Hit songs require mass audience appeal; great songs appeal to the masses by avoiding controversial topics and using family-friendly lyrics with traditional song structure, i.e. verse/chorus/bridge” vs. “You greatly increase your chance of recognition and success as an indie artist if you take a unique or better yet weird approach and appeal to a niche audience”. I could go on. But trust me---nobody really knows what works and why, and anybody who says that there’s a guaranteed way to create is hit is nuttier than Mr. Hanky’s unfortunate son. Howdy ho.

And so it went. The industry insiders can’t seem to agree on many basic tenets of how the industry actually works. Then there were the Listening Panels. Musicians had the opportunity to submit songs which were then reviewed by panels of 4 or 5 A&R bigshots in front of hundreds of attendees. There were a few problems. First, so many songs were submitted that the mathematical chance that my song would be played at a session was approximately one in forty three.

Second, the average song was played for less than forty three seconds.

Third, if your song was actually played, the panel either liked it or didn’t or they couldn’t agree, and either way, it didn’t mean a thing. Some of the material was truly awful and the panelists generally found nice ways to say so. Other times the material was quite good but it’s not like any panelist was ever gushing with “I want to sign this artist now” enthusiasm.

Being a musician at the indie level is not an easy road. The journey has its highs and lows. This LA experience, for me, included plenty of both. I left safe with the knowledge that I was in good company.

2007-11-08T17:27:00.000-08:00

Why “Americana” Dan?

What’s in a name? The problem with names which include descriptive terms, like Americana, is that not everyone knows what “Americana” is supposed to mean. Worse, some folks assume they know what it means but they are wrong. Quite wrong. And since I’m a little worried about that, I’d like to set things straight.

Americana is a musical genre which is recognized as a radio format. Americana is a branch of music which includes rock, folk, country and blues influences and which is technically considered a subspecies of country. For a look at the current R&R Americana chart of the top 50 records, check out http://www.radioandrecords.com/Formats/Charts/Americana_Chart.asp You’ll find artists like Ben Harper, Ryan Adams, John Fogarty, Mark Knopfler, a new release of duets by Robert Plant (yup, the one from Led Zeppelin) and Allison Krause (hmm, kind of an odd combination, don’t you think?) and even Bruce Springsteen. Many artists listed on the Americana charts also appear on the charts of other formats like rock, country and adult album alternative.

I have it on reliable authority that my style of music qualifies me as an Americana artist. Before there was Americana, you never knew quite where to search for certain cross-genre artists in record stores. Take Lucinda Williams as a case in point. Her music could be found in country, rock or folk but it didn’t belong squarely in any of those. So in some ways, Americana is a catch-all category for artists working the creases between the monster categories: rock and country.

I think that’s a good thing, partly for selfish reasons. I prefer for my music to not get stuck in the country bin. There are a few things that really bug me about what country music has become. For example, country artists seem all too eager to drape themselves in the American flag. Many country artists pander so blatantly to their conservative pick-up driving, gay bashing, jingoistic base that they become musical substitutes for Rush Limbaugh. Count me out. Way way out. Which is why I’m just a tad concerned that my blog identity as Americana Dan not be misunderstood.

“Americana” Dan means that I am a musical artist who fits comfortably within the Americana musical genre. It does not mean the same thing as American Dan or Dan the American and certainly not Dan the Super-Patriot. I find it strange that in America today, the flag toting self-declared patriots are those least interested in true democracy because they want to stifle debate. They claim that if you don’t support our government, you are emboldening the terrorists. As far as I’m concerned, true patriots are those with the courage to defend the constitution and the bill of rights. True patriots are willing to put themselves on the line by asking sensible questions and engaging in healthy debate over issues of public policy.

I would be proud to qualify as such a patriot. Whew, that all sounds pretty serious. And when things get too serious, I pull out my guitar.

How The Musician Made The Most of His Inner Lawyer

2007-11-01T18:27:00.000-07:00

How the Musician Made The Most of His Inner Lawyer

From Perry Mason to LA Law to Boston Legal, the entertainment media has given plenty of attention to the legal profession. The stereotypes shown on television bear little resemblance to the kind of law I practice as a public defender in Eugene, Oregon. Think of me as the lawyer equivalent of a plumber showing more buttcrack than you care to see.

Public defenders tend to work in the trenches of the law doing the dirty work most attorneys shun. Underpaid and glamorless, public defenders represent the folks many consider the dregs of society. Even worse, they commit themselves to a task many see as despicable and certainly immoral when they try to get people charged with crimes off scott free (have you ever wondered who Scott was and how he evidently became famous for never being found guilty of anything?). Never mind that some of the accused are actually innocent. Or that circumstances largely beyond their own control led them to become involved in some form of crime. Or that the founding fathers embedded in our constitution certain inalienable rights which benefit the accused as much as the accusers. Or that our government at the highest levels seems perversely committed to denial of basic human rights and currently refuses to condemn torture. All of which leads me to conclude one thing: blessed are the public defenders.

At this point in my life, I’m just as passionate about social justice as ever, but I am also determined to write, record and perform my music. And I am thankful as can be that my years as a public defender give me a unique perspective from which to create meaningful songs. For one thing, I’ve met some colorful miscreants, people with bizarre and outlandish attitudes, folks who have said and done things a universe removed from society’s mainstream. Talk about great fodder for storytelling---my work as a public defender has delivered an embarrassment of riches of material I can and do use in developing song ideas.

More than that, my work frequently puts me deep inside the minds of an unusually diverse and troubled population of tormented souls. Sure, we are all troubled in some ways but try to consider how different life must be for those who suffer the combined disadvantages of having no money, no education, no resources and no way to rise above their wretched circumstances. To add to their misery, folks in these circumstances include many victims of abuse and neglect together with a large group mentally ill. It is only natural that such individuals view the world in a way that is beyond our ability to comprehend. In the process of learning their stories and feeling their pain, one gains greater appreciation of nearly everything.

I try to bring those thoughts and feelings into my music. In fact, I can’t help myself. Sometimes I explore the depths of human despair from this abysmal perspective. Of course, there are plenty of genuine criminal losers too, and not being a sap, I know these many of these people simply lack the will to make responsible choices. I write songs about that too. The world inhabited by this diverse group is one in which I never imagined I would willingly spend any time, and yet I’ve spent the better part of a career there. As it turns out, one of the many rewards of this service is that it has become the birthplace of poetry and songs which resonate with personal meaning. As for TV lawyers, I can do without the glitzy high rises and the insufferable egos. My view from the trenches suits me just fine.

4000 to One----How My Brother's Death Spurred Me To Pursue Music

2007-10-25T14:35:00.000-07:00

4000 to One-----How My Brother’s Death Spurred Me to Pursue Music

Hello blogosphere, goodbye virtual virginity. That was easy. Losing the other kind took more years than I care to admit. Now that I’m a musician, I’m getting used to losing things. Like inhibitions and sometimes, on a tough night, a little bit of dignity when I’m playing my guts out while the clinking glasses seem to pay more attention to me than the noisy people holding them. But that goes with the territory---ask any musician. By far my toughest loss, though, came on February 18, 2004 when my older brother Steve died. Suicide actually. Nobody knows why. He was famous and admired, especially in Chicago where he wrote over 4000 columns for the Tribune and Sun-Times. So the fact that I’m writing my first blog entry is not particularly impressive in my family. But every blog has to start somewhere. I’d like to start by telling you a little about how Steve inspired me to pursue my music and songwriting. During his life, as far back as our teens, he encouraged me and my music, and even though he couldn’t play a lick, he appreciated my work on guitar and the early success I had with rock bands growing up in Oregon. But Steve’s death served as the ultimate musical inspiration for me. It made me realize that life truly is too short and if you don’t pursue your dreams when you have the chance, you’ve set yourself up for a lifetime of regret. Who wants that? Before his death, I tended to keeping my music and songwriting within a small private circle while I committed most of my energy to a traditional career. His death brought me out of the closet. I started performing in clubs and concert halls, fronting my own band, sometimes playing solo acoustic and always featuring my original material. I started songwriting with an intensity and depth of focus I never had before. I began recording my songs in LA with accomplished musicians. Steve’s death was an awakening for me and I made a commitment to myself to nurture this dream of spreading my music. It’s been over 3 years now and even though there are difficult moments (see clinking glasses above), I find it so worthwhile to pursue this passion that I can accept the bad parts. Without Steve, I don’t see me making this move and if I had kept my music under wraps, regrets about not pursuing music would have gnawed at my soul to the end.

Next month, I’m going to LA to attend a musical event called the Taxi Road Rally where I’ll perform live, attend classes on the music business presented by industry experts, schmooze with record execs and drink heavily every night. At this point in my career, I tend to think that the industry part of the music landscape sucks. That’s why I have a day job. Plus there’s no way I could make ends meet on my musical earnings, at least not yet. But I promise I’ll keep working on shrinking the day job and expanding my musical side.

As musicians go, my day job is kind of weird. I’m a lawyer, mostly a public defender representing poor folks charged with minor offenses (in some cases, it’s as though their only crime is being poor). More about that later. For now, I’ll sign off with this thought: 4000 columns for my brother Steve, one blog entry for me. I’d give anything if somehow his lead could increase.