Rockstar

A friend recently posed an interesting question to me: as a musician, would I prefer to have a handful of okay hit songs, or to have one major super-hit.

I answered as truthfully as possible, that I'd totally take any string of mid-quality songs, so long as I could keep on playing music as long as possible. While I earnestly believe that this answer is as true as possible, there are some interesting considerations to make.

First off, the case for being a one-hit wonder:

• Superstardom - This is hard to overlook; I believe that most everyone who plays music somewhere deep in their consciousness dreams of the spotlight, of being on the cover of magazines, and of hearing your songs played everywhere you go
  
  
• Royalties - let's face it, when you have a mega-hit, people want to use it for everything. It will probably be in some movies or at least used on a TV show. Radio stations will play it day and night. Soon you'll be hearing your smash hit being used to sell everything from cars to candy to hair restoration treatments. And each time those few notes hit the airwaves, you'll be making a few cents. And that's just sweet.
  
  
• Giant Shows & Diva Perks - When you have that one song that everyone wants to hear, your label/manager/promoters/etc. are going to make sure that as many people as possible can hear it. This means opening for acts who are way bigger and playing venues that most bands can only dream of. When this happens, you don't have to lift a finger. There is simply no chance in hell if you're playing something like the Oakland Coliseum or Bill Graham Civic Auditorium that you're going to have set up your own drum kit or really even tune your own guitar. You just have to show up, not be strung out, and play that one song that everyone wants to hear.

Now, the downside of mega-hits

• Burnout - Think about this logistically for a moment or two. You know how you get all tired and bored with songs when they get played out? You know how quickly you reach for the mute button when you hear that song in that commercial? You know how much you gripe when that super hit keeps showing up on your Genius playlist? Now imagine having that happen PLUS having to go out and perform that song three to four times a day for shows, radio live performances, mall openings, or whatever. Do you think you'd EVER want to hear that song again? Yeah, me neither.
  
  
• Pressure for a follow-up - There is an almost mind-boggling misnomer about the idea of a "sophomore slump". Bands that blow up on an initial release are really cursed. From the time that big hit or super debut album drops, the pressure is on to be equally impressive on the second record. But you're mired in a huge catch-22: if your follow up sounds too much like your original release, then you're considered uncreative or stale. If you stray too far from your original sound, you're persecuted for changing too much. It's a total no-win situation.
  
  
• The Brightest Star Burns Fastest - Yes, this is also connected to the "burnout" factor, but this has to do much more with public perception. The term one-hit wonder exists for a reason. Do you think the Toadies wish they could write another "Possum Kingdom"? So do I. But let's be honest; writing a really great popular song is a very difficult art, and doing it consistently is an incredibly rare feat. Unfortunately, the much more common occurrence is that you write one great song (or group of songs) and that helps you crack the big time, and you spend most of your career trying to live up to that.

Now, a couple of considerations on the benefit of being a band that just consistently puts out quality music, but no super hits:

• Sustainability - The gold standard that most all musicians I know hold is: can you pay your bills by doing nothing beyond being a musician? If so, you have officially made it. I just spoke to a friend of a friend last night who makes his living as a musician, and despite being successful enough to warrant his own wikipedia article as a musician, he said that he spent his first two years touring in bands being essentially homeless, because he couldn't afford to be on the road and still pay for rent for an apartment back home. Still, he can do it now and he doesn't exist solely on ramen and canned soup. But still, for any serious musician, the ability to do nothing else but write, play, and record music is an absolute dream.
  
  
• Experiences - I believe that you haven't really experienced places until you've played there in a touring band. By doing so you not only get to see what the night life is like, you have some free time in the day to wander around and experience a place, and if you're touring on the cheap, you usually meet fantastic people and have some of the greatest stories you're ever going to be able to tell as a result. You have some nights where you're totally blown away or caught off guard by some smaller towns or venues, and you have some nights where you can only take comfort in the fact that it's finally over. Still, it's what every musician I know wants to do for as long as humanly possible.
  
  
• Artistic fulfillment - This is what we also call the "cover band conundrum" - if you make a living as a musician playing original material, you get to enjoy having your music heard night in and night out by groups of people who, for the most part, just want to go out, enjoy themselves, and hear some music. They won't be calling to hear your hit single, but they are also more likely to pay attention to your whole set, rather than waiting for that one song. Plus, you get to play your songs to your heart's content, moving new and old songs in and out at your discretion only.

But, there is always a down side...

• Money - yes, you're making a living doing what you love, but the vast majority of musicians who play and tour for a living don't really put a whole hell of a lot of money in the bank for a rainy day. You don't have a 401k, you don't have benefits, you just have whatever is in your bank or in your pocket. What you're really working towards is being able to have enough money to make it to the next tour, next album, or anything like that. Hopefully you can stockpile a little cash here and there, but it's not an easy route.
  
  
• Wear and tear of the road - If you're just a working musician, the only way to really make money is to play shows and hit the road. Yes, you make some money selling merch and music online, but it's probably not enough to sustain much of anything. So you hit the road for months at a time. One story I hear in common from almost all the bands I've heard interviewed that gain enough success to be interviewed is that in the early years they always played shows. I believe it was Motion City Soundtrack who said that their first year after being signed to Epitaph, they played something like 325 shows. On a smaller scale, Crown Point, who are friends of mine, estimated themselves as playing 285 shows or something like that in the past calendar year. I don't care who you are, but that schedule takes the piss out of you at some point. There comes a point when all you want is a home-cooked meal and to sleep in your own bed.
  
  
• Motivation - Let's face it, there is going to come a point where you're going to look up and say "what am I doing all this for?" There are sort of built in "levels" that musicians hold themselves to; whether it's the ability to book a certain size venue, to tour, to make a living playing music, to get signed - it all depends on what the person's aim is. Still, I honestly believe that there comes a point where you realize you've plateaued, and the trick is recognizing that point when you get there. Not every band is destined to have a chart-topping hit, hell not every band is going to be able to play some of the biggest venues in your city. You just have to be happy with what you can do at a given point, or do your best to improve that situation. Do I want to be playing local clubs and venues when I'm in my late 40s? Probably not. But I can tell you right now, all I want to do is play as many shows as humanly possible and tour as much as I can afford to.

That's a somewhat more in-depth look at what into my decision. Again, it's a matter of time frame and motivation, and I feel that has to change with your age and personality as much as anything.

So.... anyone want to sign my band so I can live the dream?

Transience

Jeez, I tell you what - you start working a contract job that takes the usual 9-5 timetable, and suddenly all my late-night blogging goes straight out the window. Fortunately for you and I (but definitely not my wallet), I am back to my standard unemployed self. And as I wrap up another contract, I can't help but think about how much of my life has been marked by a certain degree of employment transience. It's interesting, for someone who clings to such deep roots, that much of what I do for a living is connected to the "here today, gone tomorrow" idea of impermanence.

First, the roots: I have lived in San Francisco for what most would argue has been my entire life. Yes, there was a short-lived freshman year of college where I lived in the East Bay, but not only was that maybe a 45 minute drive from home, I spent on average four nights in the city regardless, so I was really just sleeping in the East Bay for the vast majority of that time. I still remain close with friends from as far back as pre-school, and I take a great deal of joy in going to any establishment where I am a long-time regular. I mean, come on, don't you like it when then owner of your favorite restaurant comes up to you and greets you by your first name? I know I sure as hell do.

So, taking all this into consideration, I find it peculiar that I have spent so much of my working life not connected to much of anything. Yes, there was my time as a Community Manager, and there was the year I spent teaching full-time, but by and large, I have spent the majority of time since graduating college as a worker who has no official long-term connection to a business. In the nearly five years I spent teaching, as I said, one year of that was full time (a stat that implies impermanence in itself), but the rest of a time, I was a substitute. This means that every day I worked, I was generally greeted by an entire classroom full of strangers in a room I'd never been in. People didn't know my name or anything about me beyond what was written on the white board at the front of the classroom. Still, in that time I feel like I made a number of significant connections with students, teachers, and office staff. I don't know if it's the nature of the job to breeze in and do that, or if I simply have that tendency as an individual, but I feel like it was almost a coping mechanism in dealing with the stresses of the job: if you could walk out of the school at the end of the day and feel like you almost belong, or that you learned something about somebody in those few short hours, it put a whole new spin on the rest of the day.

Freelance work, at least in my experience with it, has been rather different. While I occasionally had moments in my recent job where I felt like I was really part of the team, on the whole, I had a much greater "outsider looking in" perspective on the whole process. I think it's mostly due to the fact that I am only brought in house when it's really crunch time, so everything that is happening around me is a bit of a whirlwind, and I can simply put my head down, turn up the music in my headphones, and tune it all out while I do my drone work for the day. Naturally, there were exceptions to that scenario on a semi-regular basis, but still, on the whole, when I left the office for the day, it wasn't very often that I would find myself thinking about my officemates the way I did kids.

But all that aside, I find the nature of this work rather singular: why is it that I am drawn to jobs that I can take and leave at the drop of a hat? Do I really value freedom that much? Do I just like being able to work around my own schedule and whims that much? I wonder how much of it is that I do indeed have such a wide social base around me that I don't feel like I need the camaraderie of co-workers. Think about it: I have two awesome roommates, great bandmates, a bunch of Rumdums, high school friends, a cop, and a wonderful monkey who are all people that I look forward to spending time with pretty much on a weekly basis, so I don't really need to add to that, so maybe that's why I can come home from work, no matter how isolated, and still have all the social interaction I may have missed out on during working hours.

Who knows. It's just something that's been kicking around in the ol' brain for a little bit, especially as I once again start staring down the rabbit hole of full-time employment again...

(sorry there's no image with this blog post, but searching "transience" on google proved a hell of a lot of really ugly art, and for some strange reason, a lot of pictures of urinals. Check it out for yourself if you're interested)

Transformative

Tonight I'm tackling a subject I don't usually breach on this blog: love. I suppose it's only fitting that I should be so moved to finally tackle the L word (no, Scott Pilgrim nerds, not "lesbians") because of something that I witnessed, not something that happened to me. It helps me keep my gruff and curmudgeonly exterior.

This particular tale is about a friend of ours that my roommate works with, who for the sake of this blog and his anonymity we'll call Bento. He's a good guy, but for the few years that I've known him, he's always been kind of a lovable drunk. Granted, the times I'd usually run into him was after he was leaving the bars and coming to hang out with our crew, but without fail, he was more or less stumbling drunk. That didn't make him any less a fun person, or a nice guy, quite to the contrary; he was always fun to hang out with and nothing but friendly -- the type of guy anyone would say has a heart of gold.

Another mutual friend noticed, as I did one of the last times I hung out with him: for as fun and lighthearted he is when he's at the bottom of the bottle, he's actually a really fascinating and charismatic guy when he's sober. We'd just never known because we'd never really seen him dry until recent times that we hung out.

Now that I've got that background out of the way, let me jump to last night. My roommate had told me over the weekend that Bento's woman of his dreams was in town for a few days, and that his current girlfriend of the last year or so was none too pleased about it. When I was invited to go out with my roommate, Bento, the girl of his dreams, and the girl's sister, I just couldn't pass it up. My roommate had gone on and on about how much different Bento was around her; he hardly drank, he had nothing but her best interest in mind in everything he did, and he just comported himself much differently, so I had to see it for myself.

We met up at the local bar, where Bento was nursing a beer, which I discovered later was the only one he had all night. We decided that rather than going to another bar, we'd grab some beers and go hang out on the roof deck of the hotel where the sisters were staying. It ended up being a fantastic night; we sat out on the deck, watched the stars, listened to music, and had great conversation until sometime after two in the morning. Bento indeed seemed like a changed man - he was practically beaming from ear to ear, re-living old times with a woman with whom he once shared an intimate bond. My roommate and I gave them their privacy as goodbyes were said, but after that, I drove the three of us back to our house, and that's when I got the full story: he had met this girl years ago, fell for her immediately, they dated until she had to move to Chicago for business. He followed her there, only to be absolutely miserable (with the city, not her -- he just couldn't hang with the winters), so he ended up coming back to San Francisco, and they kept up a long-distance relationship for some time, until finally resigning themselves to just be friends.

Up until a few days ago, it had been almost two years since they'd been in touch, but as he described it, when she sidled up next to him at work on Friday, it was if she'd just gone down to the store and come back - every bit of the intimacy, affection, and love was still there. The problem with this, of course, is that Bento has had a girlfriend for nearly one of those years. Much to his credit, he did hands-down the most respectable thing he could have: he came completely clean with his current girlfriend, saying it would be cheating them both if he kept going out with her, knowing full and well that he was in love with another woman, even if she does currently live on the East Coast.

But what struck me most about this whole story, now that I've gotten through it all, was the cliche idea of the "transformative power of love". I've heard a lot of people give it lip service, but to see it in a situation like that, I was almost at a loss. It was incredible; here was this guy I have known for years, but he was like a completely different person, and it didn't have to do with the alcohol in his system, it had entirely to do with the love in his life. I could say he was literally glowing, which is overstepping and misusing literally, I realize, but it isn't far off. I've never seen anything like it, at least not in a long time. Bento kept saying, and I noticed, that when he's around her, he feels like he's about ten feet tall. It was like seeing someone finally realize and live up to their potential. I know it sounds like I'm gushing or being flowery with my language, but that's how intense the response was.

Granted, waking up at our house today, he was kind of in the opposite shape, knowing that as we sat there on the couch, the woman of his dreams was on a plane back to the East Coast, only to hope that it wouldn't be another two years before he saw her again, but I guess that's the necessary evil you have to experience with affairs of the heart. Either way, it was an absolutely fascinating and heartwarming experience to witness from a third-person point of view, and I only hope that I and everyone who reads this will experience love like that at least once in their lives, and kudos to those of you who already have.

Distracton

No, I'm not talking about the distractions in my life that have kept me from updating this blog on anything more than a sporadic basis. I am just kind of lame, and my moderately quiet blog life is more a byproduct of the occasionally hectic, occasionally banal lifestyle I'm currently living. Sadly for this blog, much of my creative energy is being funneled into Hello Monster world (there will be a new CD sometime before the summer is out) and into the fits and spurts of fiction writing I've been trying to pull together.

But yeah, distractions. See, weekend I spent a lot of time hanging out with a lot of people. Under this blanket term, "hanging out" generally encompasses sitting in places with other people, from two up to probably about 25 at various points, in people's back yards, houses, at BBQs, at bars, you get the idea. In each instance, save for one which I'll address later, there was a widely common theme: distraction. There was always something else going on somewhere which caused people to split their attention from the conversation at hand. I know that it's wildly indicative of our fast-paced modern culture, but it is also a somewhat disturbing trend. Why do we always have to multi-task? Still, there is always a TV on somewhere, or there is someone doing something internetty, or even something as small as everyone constantly checking their phones for missed calls, texts, emails, and all that business. I am a firm believer that if you're going to hang out with someone or spend time with them, that you really owe it to them, if not yourself, to really be there. It's sad that we've lost this ability, but it was really a common theme of much of my weekend: being surrounded by people who were by and large focused on something other than interacting with the people around them. It wasn't constant, but there were so many "oh, hang on, I've got to take this" or "have you seen this internet thing? I'll pull it up on my phone for you" that there was no real reason for people to actually be in the same space.

Now, before I move on, I'll make myself perfectly clear when I say that people will break conversation for phone and internet reference stuff, I am absolutely as guilty as the next person. I do my best to give mostly undivided attention if I'm spending time with someone, but there's a natural tendency in our generation to take any lull in attention or conversation to sneak a peak at your phone. I do it, you probably do too. It's okay, I'm not saying we're bad or insensitive people for doing it, but it does make me a little sad that it's so widely accepted.

But moving on to the exception: today was an absolutely beautiful day in San Francisco. The sun was out, there was a light breeze, and I'd had a wildly productive band practice. I left the studio to see a message from a friend wanting to see if I wanted to hang out, maybe have a few beers, and just enjoy the day. So he came over, and initially I figured we'd watch some TV or maybe play video games or something, but instead we did a fantastic alternative: we sat and talked. Yeah, I was playing music in the background, but other than that, we spent pretty much the whole afternoon sitting in my living room, talking about life, discussing job hunting stories, and just catching up on what has been going on with each other in the past week or two. To make matters even better, a few hours later, more folks came by, and the four of us just sat around talking for another hour, before we went in separate directions for dinner. Even as I was sitting there, I was realizing: this is much more what people used to do. People would visit, friends would go to people's houses to socialize, and you all got a better sense of people as individuals. It sounds cheesy, but I really feel like I know these friends a lot better after spending a few hours just talking about nothing in particular with them. Yes, I have known all of them for years, but there was just a great connection made all the way around that I don't feel as often as I used to when hanging out with people, and I think most of that can be chalked up to just spending a little time doing nothing but talking.

After all, as Anne Morrow Lindbergh said: "Good communication is just as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after."

Sounds for Our Fathers

As most of you know, I am a musician, and music is pretty much my lifeblood. It's cliche, I know, but it's true - the moments are few and far between that I'm not either listening to music or humming or whistling something. I have songs that remind me of some of the best times in my life, as well as songs that hearken back to some of the worst times in my life. It's just part and parcel of my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So I was at the cafe tonight, they were playing a bunch of oldies - or what I was raised to refer to as oldies; songs mostly from the sixties, lots of doo-wop and stuff like that, and I had a comfortable warm feeling creep over me. I realized without a lot of thought that the reason was not that I was drinking (I wasn't - just coffee) or that I was feeling the effects of the thermostat being turned up. Rather, I realized these songs were comforting to me because they were the songs that my dad would always listen to. I never gave it much thought before, but my huge love for doo-wop probably comes directly from the fact that those were the albums (yes albums on vinyl) I heard pumping out of the big pioneer speakers in my parents' house whenever my mom was out of the house for any length of time.

It's funny, with myself being a musician, and my sister once being a very talented pianist, neither of my parents really had a musical bone in their body. My favorite story to tell about my father when asked about my parents' influence on my sister's and my musical educations is this: as a child, my dad was a tinkerer, which led directly to him pursuing a career as an engineer. However, he did take clarinet in middle school. That ended one day when, being the engineer he was, he noticed that all the screws on his clarinet were loose, at least to his perception. So to rectify this, he got out his small-sized screwdriver and went through, one by one, tightening the screws on the clarinet. However, when he tried to play it a few minutes after "fixing" it, he discovered that every single key on the instrument was stuck -- he didn't realize that the give in the screws is what allowed the keys to move, and he'd inadvertently rendered his clarinet completely unplayable. At that point, according to his account, he knew his music career was as good as over.

But getting back on topic - I was enjoying the songs selected at the cafe, thinking of how they reminded me of those cold afternoons at home where my dad would sit at his desk, balancing a checkbook or paying bills, listening to these classics of the fifties and sixties. Then that got me thinking: if I have kids, will they have similar affections to my music? It could be due to my odd tastes, or the fact that most of the bands that I listen to and enjoy the most are all currently active and putting out music, but I don't see my hypothetical kids, when they are thirty, gleefully whistling or humming along to We Are Scientists songs, tapping their toes to Motion City Soundtrack, or reveling in the epic sounds of Explosions in the Sky. Maybe they'll latch onto their grandparents' music, and love the fifties sound too, or maybe they'll like none of it.

It's even a discussion I've had with older generations from time to time: fifty years ago, there wasn't the broad range of music that there is today. For the most part, there was just "popular" music. With the exceptions of specific stations who would play classical or jazz, most mainstream radio stations played a whole range of the music that was popular at the time. There was not the division of stations that there is today. Just imagine if you turned on the radio and it played like your iTunes library on random - oldies, metal, hip hop, punk, indie, whatever. You'd probably complain that the station had no focus, or that it was inconsistent. The best way to contextualize it is to use the retirement home analogy that my mother uses: for her parents generation home, if you were in the common room at the retirement community, if you put on Big Band music, they'll all love it due to the memories and emotional connections to the songs. For her generation, it's early rock and roll and all the other music rolled up into the "oldies" label. So what will happen with my generation? Will we all be excited to hear Nirvana when we're 80? Will Snoop still be a go-to when I'm in a wheelchair? There has become such a divide, with the opposing sides entrenched against each other, over music nowadays that there isn't much of a common ground for my generation.

Am I crazy? Do you think that there is a universal music that captures our generation? Am I overly romanticizing the music of yesteryear? Or am I just a big sappy pile of musical mush because I heard some old Commodores and Four Tops while drinking coffee a few hours ago?

Trapped

I've said the joke time and time before, but I find as time goes on, I honestly kind of believe that I am a man trapped in a lesbian's body. Yeah yeah, it's a funny joke because straight men and lesbians both like attractive women, but I seriously find that on a semi-regular basis, I find myself most attracted to females who turn out to be lesbians. I don't know how it happens, or what it is about them, but I'll be at a bar or out somewhere or something like that, and check out a girl; I'll think she's cute, I'll keep an eye on her from afar, and sadly more often than not, I continue to do so until I see her pair off with her girlfriend. So no, the attraction is not based on that "woah, those two chicks will totally make out" philosophy that makes a number of guys attracted to lesbians on the surface. Nope, I just find girls I think are cute, and then they just so happen to prefer the company of women.

A perfect example the other day, which is kind of what prompted this blog being written in the first place, is I was driving around town, going down a long stretch of road with timed lights, which means you pretty much have the same cars around you for a few miles. I happened a glance to my left, and saw a girl driving next to me who was about my age. Keeping pace with her, I said to myself "ooh, she's kind of cute." I do this to myself all the time - there's little more joy I find in my day-to-day existence than the fun and excitement of finding that you're driving alongside a cute girl. It's dumb, but it brings me joy. So anyhow, I am driving, and the cute girl is driving alongside me, and after a few glances I notice a few things: I notice she has a cool and what most would call "alternative" haircut. In short, her hair kinda almost looks like an anime character, which for some reason appeals to me. She has bumper stickers of good bands on her car, I don't remember which, but I remember being impressed with her musical taste. However, most importantly, she has an air freshener hanging off her rearview mirror. It took a second or two to finally get it to swing in a direction where I could read it, but once I did, it was clear as day: "I (Heart) Lesbians." All I could do as I drove along was laugh, shake my head, and say "Apparently, so do I."

These are not theoretical isolated incidents either. There is, of course, the ill-fated tale of MUNI girl. For those of you who don't know this story, it may be better served to hear the full version from me in person, but I'll give the cliff notes for those of you who don't have that luxury. Basically, there was a girl I'd see all the time on the bus in to work, it just so happened that our schedules lined up like that. I saw her once in a local bar, and we talked briefly because I didn't know if she was in the extended group of people we were with or not. So months progressed after that where I would see her and wave or exchange pleasantries in the mornings. I finally caved and put up a missed connections ad on Craigslist, figuring I'd cast my fates to the internet. She saw the ad, replied, and we went to lunch one day. That night I received an email from her telling how she usually dated women, but had gone out with men in the past and hoped that telling me that didn't freak me out, which it didn't. Remember, I am a San Francisco native, it takes a LOT to freak me out when it comes to personal preferences. I tried and tried to get her to commit to another date, and after a short while, realized I was making no traction, only to find out via Facebook that she had a new girlfriend some weeks after I stopped calling.

So yeah, lesbians. I tend to dig 'em, much to my chagrin. Even when I don't know it, the world keeps on reminding me of this fact.

Dirty

That's right, kids. I'm now officially old. This makes me feel slightly better in that now I can feel a tad more justified in being a crotchety old man. Other than that, things don't feel much different otherwise.

So I'll warn you advance, this is going to be one of those sappy "glass half full" kind of blogs where I remind myself that turning thirty is no big deal, and it's just another day in my life, and all that business.

"So what has been going on in the land of Bill?" you ask.

I suppose the main thing is getting settled in the new house, which is always an adventure, but based on the fact that there haven't been bile-filled blogs about how horrible my roommates are, you could say things are going well. Granted, having people around to interact with after midnight has a rather direct relation to the downturn in blog productivity.

One of the pleasant upsides to the current setup is the fantastic quality of coffee in my cup each day. We're blessed to have two fantastic coffee shops a stone's throw from our front door, and they're always a short walk away. Better still, I have two wonderful french presses in my cabinet, and top-notch beans in my cabinet. I get to remain wonderfully caffeinated all day and night, which makes the days skate by easily. Unfortunately, I haven't spent a whole hell of a lot of time in the cafe, but that's due in part to the fact that I have an incredibly comfortable couch that sits in front of an almost stupidly big TV screen and my entire collection of books. I can crank my music as loud as I want (well, while keeping the neighbors in mind, at least) and can do so in the comfort of my underpants if I so choose, so the lure of the cafe isn't quite what it once was, despite it's ridiculously close proximity.

Coffee and my mailing address aside, life just kind of keeps plodding along. Hello Monster is busy kicking ass, taking names, and trying to figure out the most efficient means of fundraising while we start pushing towards recording a full-length disc. I will say that that, even at 30, playing in a band is one hell of a wonderful way to retain grasp of your youth. I tell ya, I feel like a high school kid when I'm onstage. Albeit an out of shape and sometimes tipsy high school kid, but a kid nonetheless.

So as I look forward to this coming year and my new decade, I am excited with everything around me - a new home, great friends (many of whom are expecting offspring soon), great music, and even fantastic coffee. Hopefully a job will finally be something I can add to my glass-half-full list, but other than that, I wouldn't really change much.