Taylor Brooks

Taylor Brooks is the girl I wrote about playing with last week. Singer/Songwriter from Tennessee. She's just finishing her record. It's a distinct honor to be the first to post one of her new songs.

This is my favorite that's finished so far. It's called Slow Dive.

http://www.box.net/shared/qhkhg5jsw8

db

Owning It

*

Poop.

What a fabulous piece of onomatopoeia.

Are farts funny? Can you generalize, and say boys would generally say yes and girls no?

My two best female friends both chortle when cheese is chopped. What does that say about me?

Men and women are so different generally, aren't they?

My friend sent me a soft-core German lesbian farting video today.

Do you think that somewhere there's a planet full of baseball watching, beer drinking women lying around farting in their underwear, and men clicking their tongues and saying ,"I just feel like you're not really listening to me"?

It would explain a lot, wouldn't it?

Take your average date.

At first, the girl is reluctant. She sizes up the guy.

The guy is on a sperm sortie from the drop. All through the evening he is Lance Romance. He opens doors, he listens his ASS off, he gives constant, sincere, perceptive compliments and is completely engaged.

Slowly, the woman responds. "This attention is nice. So is this wine. He's really listening to me." The petals start to open.

Let's say that the date rocks. Many laughs, a lot of kissing, and, finally, a compelling roll in the hay capped by vicious and simultaneous orgasms.

At that very moment, something extraordinary occurs. The trajectories reverse. Within five seconds, the woman is now romantically charged., and the guy is wondering what the Giants did and how much sleep he'll get if she leaves right now.

Is that wrong? Too idiosyncratically autobiographical?

I think not.

I should not be giving romantic advice, but girls, here are two gems:

1. Next time you have a man over, be cordial and friendly and attractive, but very early in the evening, say, "let's just relax", and then, don't talk to him for a while. Watch the sun go down. Listen to some music. Read the paper. Inside of twenty minutes the dude will look up at you, smile, and say, "This is nice, we should do this more often". He won't be able not to. We are basically trout with legs, ladies. Put the right pattern in front of us in the right way, and the reaction is straight from the brain stem.

2. Next time you have sex. Right, I'm talking ten seconds, after, say, "Who pitched today?"

Jesus, I just gave romantic advice. Is that what I had in mind all along with this blog thing, to become the plucky sardonic Man Landers of the late bloomers? Maybe I am gay. That would explain a lot too.

Like my constant and unslaked thirst for cock.

Great, I have a gig in four and a half hours.

This blogging thing's pretty ego maniacal, isn't it?

laters,

db

Warning: Do not insert swab into ear canal.

And then there were three.

Second workweek gig in a row last night. Uncle Jeb's Twangfest at Peri's Silver Dollar in Fairfax. Even though this is basically just a jam night for pros, I really really like gigs back to back. You definitely do not have to go looking for your shit, it's generally right there from note one.

Eric Schramm (SuperDiamond) Tal Morris (CCR, HLN), Freeway Frank Bohan and Lloyd Meadows (Zydeco Flames), Ted O'Connell (Bonnie Hayes Band), The Jebster (Bon Tempe, Call Me Bwana), guitarist/producer Danny Uzilevski, bassist Steve Winters, whom I only recently met and who played his frickin' ASS off, and Jimmy Dillon, who sounded great, but seemingly spent as much time attempting to tune his shiny steel acoustic guitar and plugging his music camp as he did playing. Do you you teach tuning at camp, Jimmy? :)

Sadly, last night may have been Jeb's final Twangfest. There was an ugly outburst of Led Zepplin in the first set that seems to have been last straw on the old camel's back. Seems Jeb hates Zep. Never liked it back in the day even. More of a Sons of Champlin guy. Anyways, we might have been pushing it with "The Ocean", "Communication Breakdown", and "Good Times/ Bad Times" back to back to back. Fun as hell and sounded great, I thought, and the customers seemed to dig it, if jumping up and down and screaming and clapping their hands are any indication of that. Forgot to mention DAVE VINCENT of Black Dog singing his balls off as Robert Plant.

Of course the Led Zep is not Jeb's only issue with what the Twangfest has become. It truly is time for a change, and there are some very cool ideas floating around. We've been playing with Mario Cippolina on bass and Jeb on Guitar on some gigs lately, and as sweet and funky as Jeb is on bass, he is a ridiculous guitar player.

So if the every other Wednesday giant tractor/guitar/pud pull that is the Twangfest is going to continue we're going to have to rebrand. I'm going to miss pounding down the old pockets with Jeb on Wednesdays, not to mention the surprise guitar/drum sections that occur during his nightly "I stepped on my cord and now I can't find it" arrangement improvs, but what're you gonna do? The dogs bark, and the caravan moves on. BTW, that never seems to happen when Jeb plays guitar. I wonder why that is.

The other notable thing about last night (besides the pretty girls, the scintillating conversation and the free drinks I mean - Thank you Fred) was that virtually all of the guitar playing was done though those hot new BassBoy amps, which are hand-made by Ted and his partner at their company, TubeStake. Anyway, they all sounded awesome, and there were several complaints (not all from me) about the volume. That seemed to please Ted. I think there's something wrong with him.

I have editing to do, but it's a nice day. Hmm...

Laters,
db

Back On All Fours

Ok. I'm doing this again. Let's see... what to talk about?

So I made a new film. Got a patent rejected, played a few gigs...

I've been spending way too much time on YouTube, but I keep finding SWEET stuff like the Jacksons 30th reunion gig at Madison Square Garden (part 1 of 5 embedded below right). All 5 parts are ridiculous. Complete and total destruction of the audience. Amazing live mix. Way better than laptop speakers can do justice to, so do phones if you got 'em.

Oh, and by the way, EAR BUDS SUCK MAJOR ASS. Doing the capital letters thing today I guess. Sorry... NOT.

Can't post the new short yet, as it's as yet unspoken for. I'll put it up soon as I can. I guess I haven't mentioned here that I directed "The Law Accordion to Hanson Bridgett". It's at the bottom right of this page. It was made as a promo piece for a large law firm in SF. It's kind of silly.

My new favorite web addresses - StumbleUpon.com (new, almost aways cool shit every time you click), amiestreet.com (join, say what you like, and they send you an email once in a while. so far there's been something beautiful every time. Today's gem was THE WEEPIES. Sounddogs.com for killer, cheap (25 bucks) music for films, and archives.org for public domain stock footage. OH. And this band Nada Surf that I heard on an episode of The Riches. The song I heard is called "The Fox".

THE ONLY TV SHOWS FOR ME:
Californication
Weeds
Rescue Me
The Wire
The Riches

Played a gig tonight with a beautiful singer songwriter from Tennessee first name of Taylor. I don't want to put her full name in a blog without her permission. Web etiquette. Like don't shoot crappy videos of bands without them knowing and post them on YouTube. And if you don't know what's crappy, ASK SOMEBODY! I know that goes against the whole web 2.0 user generated content/viral marketing model but...

I digress. Taylor is cute as a button, a great singer, and writes these gorgeous melodies and harmonies. Danny Uzilevski is producing a record with her. Danny's a freaking monster guitar player and sings like a bird himself. He's Danny Uzi on MySpace. Check his skanky ass out.

Uh... ...yeah.

laters
db

Inaugural Movement

Wow. Hi. Um... Ok, here's the deal.

My name's Dave. I'm a something something filmmaker/musician/inventor living in west Marin County, California. I've decided that what was lacking in my life was an egregious egomanaical excursion to the other side of the digital divide. So, here I am.

Jesus, now I feel stupid.

I guess maybe I should get started by establishing some first principles:

1. Baseball would be really different without amphetamines. Ask Hank Aaron.
2. Everyone is racist. It's how you compensate that counts.
3. White people suck.
4. Colored folks aren't much better. Two words people: Vote.
5. Intelligence is divisive. Smart people can't agree on anything.
6. Stupidity is additive. Stupid people often agree on everything.
7. Corporate America is farming us exactly like ants farm aphids. Try to be a smart aphid.
9. Nobody knows whether God exists or doesn't exist. The mystery of faith is that belief requires doubt. If you don't have doubt, you can't believe. Cool, huh?
10. I don't know if you can choose to believe that God exists, but if you can, I'm doing it. I mean, it's the only practical choice, isn't it? Help me with the math. If God does exist, it pays off big time. I go to heaven and spend all eternity dating Tina Louise. If not, it didn't really matter and I ended up being a nice guy who thought there was a reason to help old ladies across streets instead of stealing their purses. Maybe that's what God is. That idea that there might be a reason.

I gotta say, this blog thing? Kinda creepy. Yeah, little bit.

laters,
d