• My album is done. Now what?

Several days ago, I came home from work to a stack of boxes piled high in front of my door. My 1000 CDs had arrived from OasisCD. I was not elated. I simply sighed, resigning myself to the fact that I would have to carry them all up the stairs. There was no blog post.

It was not supposed to be this way.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m over the moon about having made my first album, it’s just that the whole process has been so fraught with errors of my own making and a slow but steady awakening to the realities of the music business today, that my joy, at this point, is pretty much counterbalanced by my sense of hopelessness.

I do not know what to do next. Obviously, I will release the album and I know my goal: to be heard. I don’t really care about making any money. Yet. I just want to know that this music that holds my heart and soul will hold more than just a few people’s attention. If only for the time it takes them to “needle hop” the album, to give it a chance. But how?

This is pathetic, really. I’ve been in advertising for 20 years, I’ve written campaigns that have run globally, I’ve come up with ideas that have changed the way companies think about what they do, I have debated with the CEOs of billion dollar corporations, but I do not know how to get the word out about my album.

Bob Lefsetz crows about the new musical landscape in which only great catches on. The days of mediocre ruling the roost are over. Not sure this is true, but I do agree that great music spreads. People share it. So if I can get my music into the hands of influential people (tastemakers famous and unknown) AND they like it, I should gain a bit of traction. Again, though, how?

Facebook? Twitter? Maybe. Jango, I guess. But is there a better way? A way I have not heard of? If anyone out there has ideas, please let me know. I’m plotting my release plan now, so I am ALL ears. Thank you in advance for any thinking you do on this!

• Is Van Halen's new song, Tattoo, RAWK or rock?

Van Halen - Tattoo from Van Halen on Vimeo.

I've been an avid subscriber of The Lefsetz Letter for awhile now and find most every post to be a treasure of wisdom, wit and utility. Bob Lefsetz is the outside insider, a man who deals with the very uppermost echelons of the music business but is not afraid to bite the hand that feeds (or, at least, that's how he protrays himself; personally, I believe his image). So when he recently wrote about Van Halen's newest single, Tattoo, I read the post with even more fervency than usual and then promptly clicked over to Spotify to hear it. Lefsetz described the song thusly:

"... it’s positively ALIVE! "

You can imagine how high my expectations were, especially when you add that fact that, in my opinion, without Roth Van Halen is not Van Halen and I am super stoked that he is back in his rightful place.

My first take on the track was that it was pretty good, much better than almost anything done with Hagar and in the video you can see the goofy fun of Roth in spades, his acknowledgement that this is all totally ridiculous and life at its best. Love that about Roth.

A few days later, Lefsetz posted again about the track, this time focusing on its sound quality and sound quality in general. He wrote: "... if you’re listening to "Tattoo" on fifty nine dollar speakers, or the ones that came free with your computer, YOUR OPINION DOESN’T COUNT!"

I had to write Bob a note (you can do that, very cool) about how I thought that great songs didn't need great playback quality, they stand on their own. I referenced Free, whose "Alright Now" snorted from AM radio with fire and abandon and positively screamed Hit. When I finally heard it on a good system, it was even better, but it didn't need thousands of dollars worth of gear to shine. No great song does.

Then I listened to the Halen's track again. This time I downloaded it (hi-rez AAC from iTunes, best available today for the song) and put on my studio quality AKG headphones and dropped the "needle". Ho hum, sure, the song sounded better but it's not better.

Don't get me wrong, I love the track now, really dig it, even though the chorus sounds like it was written by the likes of Kara Dioguardi (will have to wait until the record comes out to know for sure!), but it grew on me the way all songs have: it grew on me in my head via my own internal playback system, my fancy headphones had nothing to do with it.

And I believe that for all the best songs. They don't need thousands of dollars of gear, they just need two ears.

Oh, and to answer the headline of this post? It's rock. C'mon, compare it to Jaime's Crying... Okay, it's Rock.

• The return of Tim Young and the Guitarsenal, plus special guest rAmpage!

The return of Tim Young and the Guitarsenal, plus special guest rAMPage!

On Tuesday, 1.10.2012, Cerebellum Blues’ guitarist Tim Young loaded up a rental at dawn and headed north from LA to Hyde Street Studio C. I met him, along with engineer Jaime Durr, at the door and we proceeded to unload a bunch of gear, and I do mean a bunch. For the day would be long and rocking and we needed options! Over the next 8 or 9 hours, Tim laid down tracks for People Change, I Found Out the Hard Way I Should Have Done It the Easy Way, Hope and Joe Strummer is Dead. We also re-amped tracks for The Leaving. Tim could have gone all night, but I have my limits thanks to my brain injury, so we called the session at about 9:00 PM, and as I headed out into the night, riffs rang in my head and I felt really, really good. See photos

here

. For those who love GEAR, here’s the list:

THE GUITARSENAL

1980 The Strat

Late 70s Fender P-Bass

Late 70s Gibson Les Paul Standard

Gibson Custom Shop 336

The Maton

Gibson Flying V

Hofner Violin Guitar (mid 60s)

Epiphone Olympic (late 60s)

Fender Telecaster

Taylor GS-7

rAMPage

MESA/BOOGIE MKII B

Carr Mercury

1969 Fender Princeton

1959 Fender Champ

Silvertone

Earcandy 2X12 Cabinet

• Death, birth and what independent musicians could learn from Mark Cuban about New Year's Resolutions.

New Year’s is a time to let some things die, give birth to new things and resolve to improve one’s life a bit. Like so many other people, I have made my fair share of New Year’s resolutions and mostly failed at holding to them, but this year, once again, I’m working on a new set of goals. For music, and my

new job

too, I’m getting inspiration from non other than Mark Cuban, a guy who made billions when he sold

broadcast.com

to Yahoo. Cuban’s got a

new book

out and in it he outlines the secrets to his success and they’re good secrets, I think. First and foremost, Cuban claims that the only thing you can control in life is your own effort. That’s true. Further, he defines effort not as hours logged but as goals achieved. So, following his thinking, I’m going to set out some clear goals an then work my damndest to achieve to them. For music these will be:

1) Release my album by March 1 (this will be easy, as it’s already done, I think!).

2) Double average monthly visitors to my blog.

3) Quintuple my mailing list.

4) Earn $1,000 from music.

5) Get my new CD into the hands of 500 people and have them acknowledge it and tell me what they think.

These goals might seem a bit modest, but the key with goals to make them achievable, otherwise they just depress you. I suspect that the toughest goal to achieve will be number 3, but still, I’m going to go for it. To help me get started, if you have not already subscribed to this blog, please do so now using the box in the upper left. If you subscribe, you will get notifications of new posts (I have not been doing this but will start with my next post!) and you will be among the first to know when my album will be out which is important because it will be free to download for first month only!

Happy New Year.

• The long road back to work.

Last week I signed the offer letter for a full time job. It will be my first since 2007, when I was forced to go on full-time disability because of the severe traumatic brain injury suffered at the beginning of 2006.

When the accident occurred, I was at the peak of my career, a senior vice president, executive creative director of the San Francisco office of a global advertising agency. I had worked hard to scale my way up the ladder but there was no thrill of victory. I was miserable. I could blame people, I could blame the agency, I could blame clients, but in truth, I can only really blame myself for not being happy back then because I was asking too much of advertising. I was asking it to be my everything: my creative outlet, my source of self-confidence, my sense of purpose, my relationship.

After I got out of the hospital, I tried to keep up with office goings-on via email, but it was pointless. I finally go my doctor to give me permission to return to work part-time in June 2006 and the results were mixed. I did some good creative work, which was a huge relief (I still had it!), but was not able to do the job I as being paid to do. I was not presentable enough to met with clients, could not travel close or far, could no manage my team well or even walk around a review work. To make matters worse, I was not reliable, having to come in late, leave early or not show up at all because of headaches, nausea, doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, etc. Still, I hung on because as miserable as advertising made me — even more so considering my situation — I just did not know anything else. Besides, who was going to hire me? Finally, after a heart-to-heart with the agency CFO, for which I will always be deeply thankful, I opted to take advantage of my disability insurance and switch from full-time work to full time recovery. Best thing I could have done.

In the coming years, I did short projects for people I knew and met some incredible new folks along the way. Every year, my stamina got a little better, I felt a little better, I looked a little better, but I could still only manage a few days of work in a row. I once did two weeks to fill in for a creative director friend of mind and it nearly killed me. As late as just last year, I was beginning to despair of ever working full-time again and I needed to work full-time because I needed health insurance. After all, I had an undeniable pre-exisitng condition.

Near the end of 2010, I about went over the edge. I started having migraines daily and was struggling to sleep enough (I need a lot of sleep) and the babies were on the way so I was excited, anxious and stressed. It was a very intense, emotional time. But Catherine is a never-say-die-soul and she pushed me to go see yet another neurologist, this one a headache specialist. We arrived at the office together and my hopes were high but my expectations nearly non-existent. Nothing had worked before, why now?

The doctor looked me over and then disappeared to look some stuff up. What most perplexed him was my constant head twitches, my stuttering, my nearly uncontrolled movements when I had to look up or down or stand up. When he returned he pronounced an unpronounceable word and asked if I had heard it before. I said No. He then asked me if I was willing to try a mild drug. At first I resisted but he gently, and with some humor, got me to acquiesce and within a few weeks the headaches stopped, the movements stopped. I was still dizzy all the time, nothing to be done about that, but to not have the wrenching, spastic movements anymore was a true gift. We tweaked my drug dose a bit, getting it down the lowest possible amount and for the first time since my accident, I decided maybe, just maybe I could indeed work full-time.

At the beginning of 2011, the babies had arrived and life was crowded in the best way, my little drugmix was doing its thing and the future seemed a bit brighter. Then, out of the blue, a former colleague called and asked if might do project for him. That project led to more and before Catherine and I left for Virginia for the summer, talk of a full-time position was in the air. When I got back, the freelance work resumed, there were some formal talks, and I decided that if I was going to go for it, I was going to really go for it. I proposed creating a new position, Creative Strategist, and doing a combination of strategic thinking and concepting. To my utter surprise, the agency did not laugh me out of the building. A meeting with the CEO/CFO was arranged, I made my pitch and then we talked about music. Next thing I knew I was greenlighted.

I start January 3rd and I cannot wait.

• You’ll never work in this town again. Or any other town.

An approximation of those words were delivered to me sometime in 2008 by a neuropsychiatrist who had examined me at the request of my disability insurance company to determine if I had really suffered a brain injury or was a faking it (a malingerer is the official term). In the good doctor’s opinion, I had suffered enough damage to make me effectively unemployable. When I was told of my predicament, I don’t think I heard it, because I just could not accept that at 45 years of age I was done. Actually, now that I think about it more, I just don’t remember much about hearing the news, if I heard it, if I did whether I understood it. It’s all very hazy. But here’s what I remember about visiting the doctor.

The night before there were warnings of a hard rain and heavy winds to come and Catherine, who was going to drive me to the appointment, wanted to reschedule. The drive would be long, about an hour, and it would take us over the Bay Bridge, exposing us to the worst of the storm’s elements. But the law firm that was helping us with our case against the insurance company told us we really should go because the doctor we had been assigned had reputation for being brutally honest and if I he determined I was not a faker I could maybe get the insurance company to resume my benefits. In the end, Catherine and I were supplied with a car and driver and thank god because the storm the next morning was raging.

My day with the doctor (and it was full day lasting from 9:30 to 5:00 with only a 30 minute break for lunch) started with a 2 hour interview, which was recorded. He asked me all sorts of stuff — about my job, the loss of my job, what I could and could not do, treatments I had tried, how I felt — and then we broke for lunch. Catherine had found the one taxi in town (we were out in a suburb of SF called Walnut Creek) and so I called the cab and headed out into the whipping rain for a quick bite. I was already spent and felt awful. I ordered a Coke in the hopes that it would revive me a bit, but it did not.

When the exam restarted, I asked the doctor for aspirin, Advil, anything, as I could feel a headache coming on and I was dizzy and nauseated, but he said he could not give me any sort of medication. Fine, I reached for my bag and popped a few Excedrin. No effect. For the next four to five hours, I had to sit up and take various tests. One was the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory, another had to do with remembering passages of text (fail), another dealt with faces (epic fail) and some were IQ-related.

When the car picked me up in the evening, I got in the back seat and tried to sleep. By the time I was back home, a migraine had started and the next few days were hell. But it was all worth it in a twisted way because the doctor had determined that I was not a faker, that I had genuine problems and that, apparently, I would not be able to hold a full-time job any time soon, if ever.

Well I am happy to report that the doctor was dead wrong. Because yesterday, I was offered a job an agency, to which I said, “Hell yeah!” I’ll write more about the position, but it’s going to be a fun one and a bit different from what I was doing back in 2006 when my brain injury took me out of the game for good. Not!

• Why DIY is so great. And sucks, too.

Yesterday, I finally approved the final proofs of my CD art work. I feel good, but nervous, because the last time I did this, I received my 1000 CDs from OasisCD and they were so riddled with errors that I simply had to pony up for a do-over. This might be the only full CD I ever make and I want it to be the best it can be.

Why all the mistakes? Simple, because in the true spirit of today’s Do It Yourself music world, I did all the art direction myself and I am not an art director. I can fumble my way through InDesign and Photoshop, but to say I know these programs would be like saying George Bush knows English.

In fact, the more I think about DIY, the more I realize what a double edge sword it truly it is. Sure, anyone can now do everything, from writing songs to recording them to creating the art work to registering them to posting them to marketing them etc, but at what cost to their core art? Instead of staying up late trying to crack a verse, you’re fumbling around in Photoshop or struggling to grok a web site for posting your music to. Or maybe your computer has crashed and you’ve got to figure that out. Art? Who has the time anymore?

Anyway, despite my reservations, I would not trade today’s DIY world for the days of yore for anything. To go back to a time when just about every aspect of making a record meant being highly dependent — and in debt — to others would be like having to go back to a time before cell phones. I could survive, but would I want to?

And so I wait with crossed fingers, toes and eyes, and hope that when my CDs arrive this time they are perfect. And if they're not, I will simply have to consider any flaws as, um, charming.

• Farewell 2011, I will always remember you.

2011 will always be about The Babies, Avalon and Amelia. Both are just over 1 year old now and I simply cannot fathom life without them. In fact, they already seem to be woven into my life as a whole, as though they have been with me since day one. But, of course, they have not. No, Catherine and I only have to go back to December 4, 2011, to recall life before they were born, although, even then, they were very present. But go back a few years, and they were but a forming hope, a big if and definitely not a when. My days were spent either doing freelance projects, recovering from freelance projects, working on music, or searching for whatever treatment options might help my brain recover from my 2006 accident just a little faster. Catherine’s were spent working full-time and still doing a better job than I was of seeking out treatment options. We were also both fairly deeply occupied with battling a disability insurance company (more on that later, still makes me mad to think about it). But then came The Babies. TWO of them. I can’t lie, the year has been hard, hard the way all worthwhile things are, but it would have been a lot harder had our search for treatments not yielded a little gold. Just before 2010 drew to a close and a whole new world opened up, I was shut down with headaches. I was having them daily and they were bad and Catherine and I were both worried that if they continued, my ability to help much at all with Avalon and Amelia (we knew!) would be nearly null. But Catherine found a clinic, a headache clinic run by a neurologist, and we figured why not. So off I went, hopes high, expectations low, to be looked at once again by a brain expert and see if anything could be done about my problems. We first talked about the headaches and then we talked about my spastic head movements, and the doctor left the room and when he came he had a plan. He suggested a mild drug and at first I resisted. “No drugs,” I said. But we talked more and I was desperate and so I finally relented. And the drug worked. In time, we added one more minor drug, and together, they all but freed me of headaches and mostly quieted whatever was causing me to shake my head uncontrollably. In fact, I’ve been very nearly headache free until just recently, when I was hit by 10 or 11 migraines in a row, coupled with a bad head cold. It was a lousy couple of weeks. But when I see Amelia crawl across the floor and smile hugely as she approaches me, or I see Avalon pick up a toy and then slowly roll over like an otter to play with it, and I see Catherine singing a song to them for the hundredth time as though it was the first, I know how lucky I am. And I know that 2011 has been a very good year.

• Reading the Steve Jobs bio and thinking back on my favorite Mac of all time.

I’m nearing the end of the Steve Jobs bio, and the book has me ruminating on so many things, but especially the various Macs I’ve owned. Here’s the list: Mac 512K, Mac SE-30, Powerbook 170, some mid-90s beige box, Powerbook G3, Titanium Powerbook G4, Macbook Pro, Mac Pro. Of all of these machines, just one truly stands out, the Powerbook 170. I bought it in 1990 before heading off to Europe, where I used it to write letters home, work on my first spec book for advertising, do translation/transcreation work, design business cards, design brochures, begin way too many short stories, everything. Yes, it looks clunky now, a pathetically boxy slab of grey plastic, but at the time it was a sleek little computer with good power and worth a lingering look. Speaking of, I remember reading

an article in the New Yorker

at the time about Barry Diller and how he was starting new ventures and his computer of choice was a Powerbook 170, which, according to the reporter, Diller kept looking at with something akin wonder and love.

There’s so much I remember about using my Powerbook: the active matrix gray scale screen, the track ball, the way my hands would turn purple during the winter while I typed away in my unheated room, the various adaptors I had to use to plug it in. I have saved that old computer and will never part with it, though it is most certainly nearly useless today. My Mac Book Pro is superior to the 170 in every way, a testimony to Steve Jobs’ relentless pursuit of building insanely great stuff, but emotionally I’m not, and never will be, as attached to it. Here’s to the Powerbook 170, the greatest Mac of all time, at least for me. And here’s to Steve Jobs for building the company that built it and for rebuilding that company today.

• My entry in Mont Blanc’s “The Beauty of a Second” contest, to be judged by Wim Wenders (I hope!).

I’m not sure why Mont Blanc cares so much about the birth of the chronograph watch, but apparently it’s a big deal to them because they are holding a contest to celebrate its 190th birthday. Called The Beauty of a Second, the contest lets anyone submit a one second clip to be judged first by just about anybody and then, if it survives, to be judged by Wim Wenders. I’m no videographer, much less a film maker, so my clip is low on technical merit, but the content is true beauty to me: it’s Tim Young doing a take for a song that will appear on my next album.

• Happy birthday, Avalon and Amelia.

One year ago today, on December 5, 2010, at about 9:30 PM, two tiny girls were born with personalities so huge I’m surprised the Earth’s rotation was not affected. Actually, maybe it was, I was just too nervous and excited and overwhelmed to notice.

Amelia was born first, Avalon five minutes behind, both early, early enough so that Catherine and I were worried about a few things, especially their lungs, but piercing screams from both girls were a sound of pure happiness to everyone in the O.R.

The seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and now year have all passed with speed that would make Einstein think twice about a few of his theories. Avalon, once so tiny we marveled that she could smile so huge. And Amelia’s cheeks, could they be any more... more? As of today, Avalon is bigger than Amelia, but Amelia’s cheeks are not in any danger of being surpassed.

I have read and heard so much about the love a parent feels. I did not believe it. I still don’t understand it. But it’s true. It even makes the U.S. debt look small.

Avalon and Amelia, I love you with all my heart and the two of you along with your mom -- the best you could ever hope for, by the way -- have become the family I never knew I wanted and now can’t imagine being without.

• The mountain of someday.

The other night I woke up with a start because I had thought of something I had been meaning to do for a bit but had not done. I lay back on my pillow and thought to myself that I would “add it to the mountain of someday.” Then I mused on that phrase for a bit and thought it would make a cool song -- someday. And suddenly my mind was off the races, madly cycling though the many, many, many ideas I’ve had this past year but not pursued, beyond jotting them into Evernote or Google Docs. Just before drifting back off to sleep, I resolved to try to remember the phrase (no, I did not write it down, foolish) and thought of an image that might help me recall it: a stack of New Yorkers. I used to subscribe to this venerable pub, but had to stop, because I never had time to read everything I wanted to read and so I kept piling magazine upon magazine and building a literal mountain of someday. I finally couldn’t stand to look at it, saved my five issues and tossed the rest in the recycling bin. I felt much better. But the ideas in my head cannot be so easily discarded, nor do I want them to be. There are songs, screenplay notions, sci-fi novels, business ideas, all mostly shapeless hopes just waiting for a forge and hammer. Someday.

• Babies (with apologies to The Rolling Stones).

(Update: I shoed these words to Catherine and she thought they were a little harsh. I agree and will work on them more for the final tune. Anyone else have an opinion/suggestion?)

I don’t remember when the idea first hit me but it was at least a few months ago and it was simple and profound, or simply profound, if you were looking to get your point across a little faster. Namely, take the tune

Neighbours

by the The Rolling Stones and make it about babies. As with most all of my ideas these days, it sat on a shelf for a good, long while, but last night, I finally had a bit of time to work on it. Step one, I located the lyrics to

Neighbours

online, step two, I gave the Stones’ version a good listen and mapped out the song, and step three, I fired up Pro Tools and went for it. I thought it would be easy, fun at the least, it was neither.

Neighbours

is a deceptively simple song and its magic lies in the magical playing by the band. Keith’s guitar work is especially cool and, quite frankly, well beyond my abilities, as I cannot do high speed downstrokes all that well (in other words, I can forget Metallica for as long as I live). I gave it my best shot but will keep my demo to myself, thank you very much, and get Tim, Sam and Andy and do my ode to my babies justice. Should be done before the sun blows up. In the meantime, here are the lyrics “I penned” (that’s in quotes, because Mick penned far more than me, to see the original by the Stones go

here

, to hear the Stones’ version go

here

).

BABIES

(set to Neighbors, by The Rolling Stones)

Babies, babies, babies, babies

Babies

Have I got babies?

Have I got babies?

All day and all night

Babies

Have I got babies?

Shaking their rattles

All day and all night

Crazy, crazy babies

Screaming little crazies

No piece and no quiet

I got Elmo, xylophone playing

Potty training

With the trouble and strife

Is it any wonder

Is it any wonder

Is it any wonder

That I’m sleep deprived

Babies,

I know you can’t help it

I know know you can’t help it

You think of only yourself, yourself, yourself, yourself

(SOLO)

Is it any wonder

Is it any wonder

Is it any wonder

That I’m sleep deprived

Babies, I know you can’t help it

I know know you can’t help it

You think of only yourself, yourself, yourself, yourself

Babies, babies, babies, babies

Babies

Do me a favor

Sleep until seven

8, 9 or eleven

You know that babies

Steal off my table

Steal off my table

But I’m doing alright, alright, alright, alright

Babies

I know you can’t help it

I know know you can’t help it

You think of only yourself (vamp on “yourself” as song fades)

• "Real artists ship," according to Steve Jobs. So what's my excuse?

I'm reading the new

Steve Jobs biogragraphy

and every few pages I come across something that under normal circumstances would lead to a post on this blog. But these are not normal times. For one, I'm finally really looking for a job, not just saying I'm going to start soon. For another, I'm trying to be a good parent to

two mind-twistingly cute (in my opinion!) twin girls

. And finally, I'm trying to finish my first album — all of which means time is tight.

But back to the book of Jobs: it proclaims Jobs to be the originator of a well-worn phrase around Apple: "Real artists ship." Setting aside my own troubles, I have to ask, is this true? Is the ability to deliver a finished work what separates the real artists from the fakes ? I'm never one for absolutes, but I have to admit, I think I agree with this statement. I mean, anyone can proclaim that he will write a novel, make a movie or, yes, record an album, but the true artist actually does it, at least in my opinion. And the reason I believe this is very, very simple: no art, no artist.

So what’s my problem? Nothing new, just time, as in not enough of it. As of today, though, the album is done, the artwork is done, and everything has been uploaded to OasisCD, and all that remains is for me to approve one final proof of the inner 8-page booklet. I know I’m like the boy who cried wolf, but I’m going to finish and release my first album in the before Christmas.

I can’t wait. I will be so glad to have this album behind me, to have it out there, to be able to give it to people and get feedback. I’m also dying to try out some of the promotion/marketing techniques I’ve read about. My goal is to have 1000 people hear the album and tell me they heard it and tell me what they think, and not anonymously or in a way in which I can’t respond, but via good ol’ email. It’s a tall order, but I’m going to go for it. If you haven’t already, please sign up for my email list. I will be doing a lot more with it in the coming months. To sign up, please send me a note via the form on the left-hand side of this blog (I’m working on creating something more pro, but for now, this secure form will have to do).

Stay tuned!

• Today has me thinking about the greatest movie about rock and roll ever made and reminiscing just a bit.

Today, 11/11/11, is Nigel Tufnel day and I can think of no better way to pay tribute to it than to write a little about the most Spinal Tappian moment in my life.

I first saw

The Is Spinal Tap

on

VHS

, I think, at a friend’s house, stoned. I liked it, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wasn’t rock and roll supposed to be glamorous? Where were all the great looking women, the money, the fame, the excitement? Why was everybody such a screw-up? I saw the movie again maybe a year later, then again a few years after that, and a few more times since. Every time, some new joke, subtle or not so much, would jump out at me but more important, as I got a little older and tried my hand, however haltingly, at rockdom, the movie’s truth became painfully clear: rock and roll makes the greatest promise to youth that could ever be made and rarely keeps it.

This point was driven home when I went on my first, last and only “tour”. I was in a band with my friend

Toby Germano

called Germano Warfare, and we had played several gigs around SF. We weren’t exactly a draw, but we did okay and we started to dare to dream just a little. We hired a manager... um, wait, no, a manager appeared on the scene. I can’t remember his name but I think he was brought in by our drummer. The first gigs he got for us were not promising, but then he announced that he had put together a little tour for us of some cool clubs in LA. The year was probably 1987 or ‘88, so the club scene in LA was hot, right? All I remember about that tour was that no one seemed to fully know what was going on, we played early and to empty rooms (see photo) and every dressing room smelled like piss. And we were always a little befuddled. Is that really when we go on? Are you sure this is the club? Do we get a sound check? And that’s what Spinal Tap is about because that’s what rock and roll is mostly about: disappointment somehow made fun yet still disappointing. And so, on Nigel Tufnel Day, I salute everyone out there giving music an honest shot, always trying hard, always dealing with set-backs, always hoping that next time it will be better and never giving up — even though your chances are infinitely close to nil, although not as close to nil as mine!

• Was it technology or biology that made me a better songwriter?

These past few years, I have always credited my brain injury with transforming my abilities as a songwriter, but maybe the truth is more prosaic. Maybe instead of a mystical, magical rewiring of my neural circuits I simply got my hands on better gear. Possibly.

I smooshed my cerebellum in early 2006, the same year Apple introduced the first Intel-based Macs. I bought one and overnight working with Pro Tools changed. Before Intel, whenever I added a track I felt like a bomb disposal expert snipping a wire. Would the computer crash? Would I lose what I had been working on? Would I live? But after Intel, I could work without the fear of constant problems and it was so freeing. For the first time in memory I could simply pop open the computer and get to work on a song. No more futzing with buffers and bit depth and sample rate and track count and plug-ins to unfreeze my computer. Nirvana.

As a result, I started to really use Pro Tools, to cut and paste whole sections of a tune as easily as if I were moving text around in word processor, to experiment with multiple guitar parts and tones, to layer up a few more vocal harmonies, to start over if I had to. Most important, I could punch in and out easily, so if a messed up while playing a part, I just backed up, set the marker, set the pre-roll and tried again. If you’ve ever worked with tape, you know that punching in and out was a High Art. The only way to do it very reliably on your own was to invest in a foot pedal, which I never did, but even then, it was an unpredictable adventure. Pro Tools made it mundane and that simple fact, plus cut and paste editing, made all the difference, at least for me. Because I like to get a song down fast, just rough and tough, listen to it, maybe play it in the car for a few days, note the changes I want to make, then do it again. And again. And again until I’m happy, and knowing I could work this way, being freed of the limits of tape, meant that as I worked on songs I no longer had to compete with my gear, cajole it into functioning properly, overcome its quirks not only to finish a song, but also to simply experiment with ideas.

Do I still believe my brain injury played a role in my growth as a songwriter? Absolutely, the biggest. But, contrary to an assertion I made in an earlier

post

, the gear helped, too.

Which reminds me, I’ve always wanted a...

• Is Avid a good investment today?

I recently bought an Avid MBox 3 Mini with Pro Tools 10 and posted about it. My post was mostly about whether new gear had ever really helped my abilities much, but a comment made by Chaco D about Avid’s aggressive and uncool upgrade pricing got me thinking Avid the company and what its fate might be. Being an amateur but seasoned by PAIN investor I checked Yahoo Finance to see what Avid stock was selling for these days. Last time I checked was in 2005 and the stock was at $60. I remember being mad because I had sold my shares well before the run-up got even close to $60, which turned out to be a peak. Today Avid stock sells for, drum roll -- please -- about $6. Given that the number one rule of investing is buy low, sell high, I had to ask myself, “Is Avid a buy?”

Yahoo Finance reveals that at today’s price you can pay roughly $6 for nearly $18 in revenue. Delve into the facts about Avid as a company and you’ll learn that it’s an industry leader with great market share and not one but two powerful brands (Avid and Digidesign). But dig a little deeper and you’ll see two big problems: very little cash and an inability to cover costs, meaning that the cash is dwindling. I’ve seen this movie before and it usually only ends badly, which is what I think the case will be for Avid.

The company’s video editing business is under siege from the likes of Final Cut and other low-cost options; the company’s audio editing business is under siege from the likes of Logic at the high-end and Garageband at the low and a slew of other products in between. The problem: in both video and audio Avid is a victim of the good enough syndrome, created, in part, by Intel’s relentless improvements in processors, which is allowing the Average Joe to put together a good-enough video/audio editing system for not much more than a decent PC.

So, what’s Avid doing about its plight? I have no idea what the company’s plan is for high-end video, but in audio it seems to be to squeeze loyal users for every possible penny, plus a few more, while offering little in return. I say this not only because of Avid’s offensively aggressive upgrade pricing and schedule, but also because of the fact that the biggest “innovation” in Pro Tools 9 and 10 is that they no longer require Avid/Digidesign hardware. Which brings me to Avid’s Achilles heal: the whole company is structured to sell hardware, yet hardware has become mostly a commodity. Unlike Apple, Avid has not done much at all in hardware that could be considered innovative, at least not at the low-end (compare Avid’s clunky MBox 3 series to Apogee’s Duet II). The software appears to be a different story, though, as Pro Tools has definitely gotten a lot better over the years. So, like countless computer companies of yore, Silicon Graphics being the best example, that saw their specialized hardware outclassed by Intel machines running whatever, Avid is also seeing its proprietary hardware business being ground to dust by competitors leveraging standards.

Going forward, Avid has two choices: 1) limit all hardware to those areas where Avid can bring real innovation (chips not being one of them!) or (2) file for Chapter 11 and come back as a software-only company. Choice one is never going to happen -- it’s a mindset thing -- leaving only choice two, which will mean that current shareholders will get wiped out. Wait, there is a third choice, which probably is actually decent and that’s that someone buys Avid. Rough guess, I’d say the company is worth $10, but of course that could crater if debt piles up. Oh, and one last choice is to buy now and sell at $10 or so should Avid spike because of current sales (which won’t last, I guarantee it).

Sad. Digidesign was a great company and has been a part of my musical life since just about 1994, right when Avid bought them. Hate to see Digi/Avid in such dire straits; then again, they have done nothing to earn my loyalty so, you know, I don’t fell that bad.

• Suffering a bout of G.A.S. and the delusional thinking it causes.

A few weeks ago, an email arrived in my inbox trumpeting great and glorious and limited-time savings on Pro Tools 10. I hemmed, I hawed, I bit. I rationalized my purchase by telling myself that Pro Tools is a program I absolutely depend on, and I was now two versions behind and surely this was unacceptable. I further rationalized my purchase by musing on how Pro Tools 10 would free me from being tied to Digidesign hardware. I also had a long discussion with myself about the unquestionable merits of the bundled software and of the small size of the new audio converter box. But most important, I fell into a reverie about how my creative abilities would no doubt benefit from new gear. Ha. I should know better. From my Fostex multitracker to my Tascam 38 to my Roland VS880 to my Digidesign Session 8 to my ADAT to my first MBox and my second MBox, I can honestly say that none of these things helped my creativity one little bit. In fact, I think that most of my purchases of recording gear have been kind of like a sugar rush: a huge high followed by a crashing low, as the realization sets in that I am still the same songwriter I was just before my purchase. And this is the curse of new gear. It promises to complete you, to transform you, to be the key you have been waiting for, but it’s not and never will be. No, to get better at something you almost never need a new much of anything, you just need to work harder. I will say this, though, about new gear: no matter what history makes painfully clear, I will always hope that this time will be different. And so, as I twist the knobs on my new MBox, stare into its blue light, and marvel at what it all can do, I feel the promise of the new, the promise of dreams unfulfilled, the promise, always broken, that this time something huge will happen.

P.S. - In case you're wondering what G.A.S. stands for it's Gear Acquisition Syndrome, a terrible disease among musicians.

• Recording the third song of my second album and Joe Strummer Is Dead.

Monday was a whirlwind. Had a four-hour session with drummer Andy Korn and bassist Sam Bevan and when it was all over, I wasn’t sure I’d gotten what I wanted but I sure knew I had fun. Per usual, Andy and I ran through the songs White Stripes style, just bass and drums, and per usual it felt great to play loud guitar with loud drums. Sigh, wish I could do that more often. The first song we did was Hope, which will be the third song on my second album, an EP I’ve mostly finished writing, and the second song was Joe Strummer Is Dead, which will be the B-side to my political rant single, Stop Wasting My Time. I know, I know, what the hell am I doing working on upcoming albums when my first isn’t even out yet? To answer fully would require a longer post, but essentially I’m getting as much stuff in the can as possible, so that when I return to full-time work (soon, I hope!) I will be able to still release music but not have to spend much time in the studio. Speaking of releasing music, I am now awaiting final proofs of my first album and will hit the go button to start manufacturing in about a week! Stay tuned.