...Exile On Rinconada Drive
Ah, my poor neglected LJ ... so new and fresh back in 1999, so seemingly anachronistic in the age of Facebook and Twitter... ah well, enter I must.
I always seem to turn here to vent and bitch, and again here I go. But know this, those who still read: I am reasonably well and very grounded by the three and a half year old package of wonder who is starting to develop his own bullshit detector. He's gonna be a character.
I guess that this is the duality of being a dad to a small child; pretty much all your time is spent dealing with mundane issues like how many times the moppet can watch Doc Octopus and Spiderman or why it's not a Gramma Di day while in the small crevices of your brain a little artistic guy is screaming "what about me, motherfucker?"
What I miss about the old True Love era was hanging with creative people who indirectly pushed me to create. I find that so many of those people, having moved on from that to families of their own, now do the cover or tribute band thing rather than keep writing. I guess it's the musical equivalent of men's softball leagues or golf. You pull out the old Les Paul and rip a couple of AC/DC songs out and then back to ma n' the kids.
Nothing wrong with that really, and if I didn't already do that for 15 years it would probably be amusing. But I still crank a few out now and again and the outlets for bringing them to life are running down for me.
I'm not talking about the band here: the guys are doing a great job with what I'm giving them. But I used to hit the open mikes or the waffle sets to try them out ... road test them, if you will. I'm guessing that the F&G open mike is OK, but the Old I one always struck me as a way for the bookers to foist off people they really didn't want to deal with or allow hapless types who really couldn't cut it there a chance to play the "A" room.
The thing about the TL (and by extension the old Capitol Garage and Cafe Paris) open mikes was that you performed for peers who could give you some objective advice. You weren't obligated to follow it, but I know for sure that some criticism of my work made me write better songs. I'm not sure you can get that now.
So I kind of operate in a vacuum now; my trips to midtown are largely dictated by my sound schedule at Old I and what few shows The Onlymen get there. I wish there was a center hub of some sort anymore where my friends hung out that I could visit once every couple of weeks or so ... I miss my buds.
I always seem to turn here to vent and bitch, and again here I go. But know this, those who still read: I am reasonably well and very grounded by the three and a half year old package of wonder who is starting to develop his own bullshit detector. He's gonna be a character.
I guess that this is the duality of being a dad to a small child; pretty much all your time is spent dealing with mundane issues like how many times the moppet can watch Doc Octopus and Spiderman or why it's not a Gramma Di day while in the small crevices of your brain a little artistic guy is screaming "what about me, motherfucker?"
What I miss about the old True Love era was hanging with creative people who indirectly pushed me to create. I find that so many of those people, having moved on from that to families of their own, now do the cover or tribute band thing rather than keep writing. I guess it's the musical equivalent of men's softball leagues or golf. You pull out the old Les Paul and rip a couple of AC/DC songs out and then back to ma n' the kids.
Nothing wrong with that really, and if I didn't already do that for 15 years it would probably be amusing. But I still crank a few out now and again and the outlets for bringing them to life are running down for me.
I'm not talking about the band here: the guys are doing a great job with what I'm giving them. But I used to hit the open mikes or the waffle sets to try them out ... road test them, if you will. I'm guessing that the F&G open mike is OK, but the Old I one always struck me as a way for the bookers to foist off people they really didn't want to deal with or allow hapless types who really couldn't cut it there a chance to play the "A" room.
The thing about the TL (and by extension the old Capitol Garage and Cafe Paris) open mikes was that you performed for peers who could give you some objective advice. You weren't obligated to follow it, but I know for sure that some criticism of my work made me write better songs. I'm not sure you can get that now.
So I kind of operate in a vacuum now; my trips to midtown are largely dictated by my sound schedule at Old I and what few shows The Onlymen get there. I wish there was a center hub of some sort anymore where my friends hung out that I could visit once every couple of weeks or so ... I miss my buds.