Table of Contents, No Appendix: Part One

It's obvious that I haven't blogged since post-Thanksgiving. All 3 of my readers, raise your hands and start asking the questions.

Where have I been, you ask? Well, let me tell you!

In my previous entry I was talking about the birthday boy and my hungry aching brain. I suppose my journey begins on December 1st. I taught lessons all day at the Wilmington School of Rock and probably made some kids unhappy. I've been doing this thing where I just throw on the metronome if the kid hasn't practiced. My time playing isn't even spectacular yet, so I figure I'll get my students to have good time when they're my age. The day flew by because I was basically en route to New York City to see Ween. I decided to get them Christmas presents so I went to Book Haven and picked out a fairly unique selection. I got a book on Frank Lloyd Wright for Claude, a book called Jazz Matters for Dave, a book on Jazz Piano for Glenn, and a book on The Aesthetics of Rock for Mickey. I got Aaron a book too, but he left before I could give it to him.
There was an after party at the lovely Monica Hampton's apartment and I attempted to make people laugh by posing as the current Vice Magazine cover boy. I don't have the before and after pictures from the party, but I rolled up my sleeves to look like this:

Our hair similarities are uncanny, non?

I spent the majority of the party hanging out with the Seahag (Sound of Urchin, Project/Object). He has an obsession with a face I make sometimes when I play drums. He calls it the "nerd face". I make sure to do the "nerd face" as much as possible in his presence.
After the party I went back to midtown and slept on the couch of a sort-of-famous music school. You may have heard of it.
It was convenient, it's only a few blocks from the Port Authority Bus Terminal. I needed to hop on a 12:00 bus to Boston because I was going to have a lesson with my teacher Kenwood Dennard (Sting, Jaco Pastorious, everybody in the world, etc.) the next day at 6:00 PM. I got to Boston at around 4:20 in the afternoon and I began walk from South Station to the Berklee complex. My luck has been wonderful lately, and it started snowing as soon as I left the station.
I should've estimated the time to walk there more approximately. I walk way too fast, and I ended up there an hour early. I decided to explore Boston and I walked several blocks south to the cheapest pizza place I could find. I had two slices of vegetarian pizza that were so ungodly that I considered eating meat again, albeit only for two seconds. Not only that, but my heinous meal was grease-laden and filling, providing me with an uneasy stomach right before an intense lesson. I walked back to Berklee and I was still too early. I started calling Kenwood on his cell phone so he could let me into the building.

No answer.

I figured he must've been deep into a hyper-complex drumbeat with one of his more accomplished students. But the fact is, my ears were just about ready to snap right off from the sub-zero temperature. I called again.

No answer.

I was starting to get suspicious but I continued to give him the benefit of the doubt. I then called a whole bunch of random people from my phonebook. I had to fend off the bitter cold that immersed my entire body by sober dialing and pretending like I had no nerve endings.

The cold wasn't funny anymore and luckily an older guitar student graciously let me into the building. I called Kenwood one last time and I finally got an answer. It turns out he was hanging at the Pastorious estate in Florida celebrating the life of Jaco. He forgot to call. It's okay, I still love him. We can't remember everything, and this kind of stuff happens.

I will share my favorite line from the call:

"Wait, don't you come all the way from Philadelphia?"

"Yeah."

"That's incredible. I'm giving you a free lesson."

And then I started walking back to South Station, to catch my 8:30 bus to upstate New York.

Happy Birthday Dad/Brain Hunger

Today is my dad's birthday. All I really need to say is that my dad rules, but I'll elaborate. Not only does he do everything for us (driving, cooking, etc.), but he is also the reason I play music. I am forever in his debt just for that.

Thanks Dad, Happy Birthday.

I decided to make two cards today, one for him and one for my mom's un-birthday. I'm sure that she will post pictures in her blog, but basically I just drew Neil Gaiman. This is all I've learned after 20 years of knowing my mother - you just have to draw Neil Gaiman. Or make a song about him for Christmas.

I'm still continuing with this 8AM on the dot wake-up call. It backfired on me the first day, but I'm starting to get used to it. I spent most of the morning traveling to the Sound of Market to pick up some gifts of the aural persuasion. Sound of Market is one of the last good record stores in Philadelphia, besides AKA Music. As long as those two places don't go out of business, I'll be a happy man. My duct-tape wallet will continue to be unhappy though.

I'll finish this post with a rant of sorts.
On the way home I was ruminating on the future of musical composition. This topic seems to preoccupy my walks into town, regardless of whether or not I am actually listening to music. Perhaps I'm not worried about the future of composition as much as I'm worried about our voices and our instruments becoming obsolete. As for the musician playing the instrument, the muscles can only develop so much for the purpose of excessive speed and accuracy.

Quite useful, but mostly unnecessary.

Our musical vocabulary is vast but more limited than the vocabulary we use on a daily basis. For example, we have twenty six letters, but we only have twelve tones. Of course, there are many rhythms that have been untouched. But what is the purpose of creating the most unimaginable and complex rhythm? Having a definitive and clear musical statement is of utmost importance, and I'm not sure that complexity is the key to clarity.
This leads me to the big mystery. I'm trying to figure out what the next evolutionary step is, but it always begs the question: What hasn't been done yet? The only way to know is by absorbing as much music as possible. I was able to satiate my starving brain with that conclusion when suddenly...

I thought about all of the articles which discuss the "best new music of (insert year here)".

The "best new music" seems to mend many adventurous, sometimes absurd, and previously unwanted musical ideas (read: the acknowledgement of free jazz in popular music). The once outlandish ideas are then regurgitated into a pop song format, which in turn makes it accessible to a wide commercial audience. There are interesting results, but how is the art progressing? Especially when we are using the same elements that have been available for hundreds of years? Some say we are at the end of the creative rope. I say we search for a reasonable compromise!
Calling myself a postmodernist is a cop out, so I'll just have to keep thinking about it until I'm satisfied. That'll happen. Hah!
I should get some sleep, and then wake up at 8AM. Maybe my thoughts will be clear when I'm not thinking about how delicious the birthday pound cake was.

Sincerely,
Eric Slick

The Boring and Somewhat Productive Monday

I suppose it's time to turn this into a real functioning blog now, instead of just a Project/Object tour diary.

Let's talk about today.

Last night I decided that I want to start waking up at 8:00 every day no matter what. I feel like there's never enough time to do the things I truly want to do in the 24 hours I am allotted. My brain moves very quickly in the morning, so reading is a good match for that. When it's the afternoon my brain starts to slow down and I want to do is practice my drum technique. But I also need to work towards the inevitable, which is acquiring my driver's license. I have never been able to the gather the motivation to even look inside the Driver's Manual. I just know that once I get a car, I'm going to be paranoid about killing squirrels. Now is the time to do it though. It's necessary to continue my dream as a working musician.
I'm going to get my physical soon. That shall put the figurative wheels in motion! Pun intended.

I didn't ignore the cell phone alarm and I woke up at 8:00 today expecting to help sell records on eBay. However, I am rather naive so this never happened. It got moved to tomorrow afternoon instead.

Instead, I spent the morning reading "Point Counterpoint" by Aldous Huxley. I remember when I bought that book. It was almost exactly a year ago, December 3, 2006. I was on a weekend tour with Chris Harford and the Band of Changes. We were about play a show at a small bar in Washington, DC called Iota. Scott Metzger and I decided it would be a good idea if we went to the local shopping center. It reminded me a lot of the big shopping complex in West Palm Beach, Florida. It seemed like the entire neighborhood was built around it, a hypnotizing Mecca for wannabe hipster suburban teenagers and the retired golfing type. You know, the two age demographics with the least amount of gross income (groan with me everyone).

The centerpiece of the complex was a gigantic Barnes and Noble. I have no problem with a giant bookstore, even if it is a national chain. At the time, I was inspired by a book that Chris lent me called The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. It was a self-help book without all of the bullshit, and it's the reason I started practicing and reading again. At the time I was being overzealous, and I wanted to purchase the most challenging book I could get my crooked fingers on. So I got "Point Counterpoint". I have 32 pages left, but the vocabulary is so outrageously difficult that I have to go to dictionary.com every 5 minutes. It's no wonder that I'm still reading it to this very day.

This story then presents a series of fun but stressful flashbacks.

(cue the Debussy whole tone arpeggio)
That weekend we also played the North Star Bar in Philadelphia and the Recher Theater in Towson, MD, opening up for the Benevento/Russo Duo. I get nervous before every show, but I was feeling particularly bad before that one. We got through the show and it was good. Afterwards it was a laid back affair. Joe Russo (the fabulous drummer) and I had our first unofficial dance competition, which led to furious finger snapping and leg shaking. If I remember correctly, it got really heated and passionate during Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know?".

I still torture Joe about having a real dance off. We were supposed to have one at the Bonnaroo Centeroo Fountain, but my 3 show a day schedule forced me to be relegated to the Ice Cream Man truck backstage. He is an incredible drummer, but little know he is an even better dancer. I may have to pull a Tonya Harding on him.
(cue Wayne and Garth going "Doodledeedoo")

After reading this morning, I spent some time heating up ratatouille and brown rice. I then practiced on and off for a couple hours. My hands hate me right now. I'll stop typing.

Sincerely,
Eric Slick

We Interrupt this Blog for a Special Announcement

Yeah, that's about right.

Day Four: Asbury Park, NJ

If I remember correctly, we didn't get to the hotel until shockingly late. It was freezing outside. Did Christmas come early this year or what? We arrived to the hotel at 5AM. This happens sometimes with us. The sun was rises as we go to bed. I sometimes think we are a nocturnal ensemble, but then again, New York shows are overwhelming.

(cue Debussy whole tone chord arpeggio for dream sequence)
I have fond memories of this particular Motel 6. It was the very first place I stayed with Project/Object. Just being in the laundry room brought back a warm sensation. Back then I still barely knew my band mates and I was green to say the least. My only previous touring was with the Paul Green School of Rock Music. Back then I was surrounded by parents and peers who would take care of me. That first tour with P/O was so different. I had no idea how to handle myself. I remember following Svalgard everywhere he went. I was a nervous kid with a family and a girlfriend at home. I also had no idea how to eat. After the shows I would foolishly get decade old snacks from the vending machine - most of the time it was stale Pop Tarts. Seahag and Dave would haze me from time to time too. I always went to bed so early (which isn't much different than now). One time they came in my room and lifted up my mattress and started humping me vigorously. Ah, the good old days.
(dream sequence end, cue image of modern day East Brunswick Motel 6)

I slept for most of the day. It was okay, because East Brunswick and Asbury Park are not far from each other. Our show that evening was originally supposed to be at the Stone Pony, but it was moved to the luxurious Asbury Lanes Bowling Alley/the World's Most Amazing and Bizarre Rock Music Venue. That afternoon we found ourselves buying extra gear at the local Sam Ash Music. I definitely buy way too many musical things. My way of rationalizing it is by saying, "If it's educational, it's worth purchasing." Musical instruments are educational, right? Right?!
We left for Asbury Park at around 4PM and somehow got lost along the way. We still made it to the venue on time! How has this been happening? We've been blessed. Ralph of Music Club Studios was there to do our sound for us. I love Ralph. He's got a good taste in music and he recorded the show I did with Bob Musso. He's also possibly going to record Crescent Moon in the future. I hope that comes through. There was a lot of free time to kill before the show, so I just practiced a whole bunch behind the stage. My dad drove all the way from Philadelphia to be there. It was great to see him. Guess what? The Downtown Music Gallery/Lunar Bear Ensemble crew showed up too. Great to see John Lunar Richey and Bob Musso in the crowd.
The show that night was calm but still hilarious. The drum duet in "Don't You Ever Wash that Thing?" got even more outrageous. I can't remember what stupid motifs we did. It probably was the Folgers Coffee Song again. After the show we went to Wawa at 4:30AM and got vegetarian hoagies. I forgot to mention - this particular Motel 6 has wireless internet that is $3 for 24 hours. Motel 6 is finally catching on to the internet obsessed market. Good job.

Day Three: New York, NY

The show in Troy ended at a good time and we continued our upgrade from Motel 6 to Super 8. At least I'm pretty sure we stayed at a Super 8. There was wireless internet! I definitely had a good 7 hours of sleep. Troy and New York City are not too far from each other, so the ride was going to be short. There was a coffee warehouse blocks from our hotel so we were able to get some decent brew. This is unusual for us, because most of the time we get the Sunoco Hazelnut Delight or whatever gas station coffee is readily available. Starbucks is a treat, but I have to add at least 3 packets of Sugar in the Raw - it's too bitter for me sometimes. Starbucks is an international phenomenon. Wouldn't you expect it to taste like chocolate chip cookies or something?
Well, it doesn't.
It was a fairly pleasant ride to New York City until we hit the treacherous 4:30 PM rush hour traffic. Still, I've been through worse. We still managed to make it to the club early. Last time we played here, it was a club called Coda. I believe they went out of business, so we ended up playing at the revamped Lion's Den. I haven't played there since July 9, 2005, where I did my first real gig with Andre, Dave, and Jordan Shapiro (a.k.a Project/Object Lite). We were Chris Opperman's backing band. By the way, if you don't know who Chris is, check out his MySpace. He's a brilliant composer who works with Mike Keneally and Steve Vai. I hope to play with him again someday.
So we were sitting outside the club, and Svalgard left and then came back with a loaf of bread and a container of fresh mozzarella. We must've looked like a bunch of homeless freaks sitting outside of this club, hoarding bread and cheese like animals. Quite a sight for ongoing spectators, I'm sure. The enthusiastic sound guy arrived and we set up, but we weren't allowed to soundcheck until at least 7:30 because of the offices next door. Maybe I'm an idiot, but why would an office open next door to a loud rock venue? The logistics on that one are just a tad skewed.
After we were done setting up, Svalgard told me that his daughter Madi Diaz was playing a couple blocks away at the Living Room. Laura (our merch girl), Svalgard, and I took a cab and got there at 7 on the dot. I walked up to the door and saw a bouncer. I then realized that this was a 21+ venue, and there was no way in hell I was getting in. We begged the bouncer for a good 5 minutes until Madi came out and saved the day. It was a bit embarrassing though. I can't wait until I'm 21 and I can go see shows without any hassle. Madi's set was great and performed quite professionally. I was particularly fond of her bass player. He had that Motown/Rick Danko bass feel, playing a little bit behind the beat.
We had to leave her show and lucky for us, there was a cab about to leave a block away from the venue. We hopped in and made back to the Lion's Den just in time for soundcheck. It sounded amazing in there, so it didn't take too long to get my mix figured out. Right after we were done, drummer Jerry Cucurullo showed up. His band was the opening act. Jerry is Warren Cucurullo's brother, and Warren was in a couple of bands, y'know such as: Duran Duran, Missing Persons, Frank Zappa. He also has uh, an interesting online presence, where he um, has videos on his website. Basically, you have to be over 18 to view portions of his site. Anyway, Jerry is a total sweetheart and a great drummer. He recently won one of those Guitar Center Drum Off competitions. He beat out all the young whippersnappers and Vinnie Colaiuta clones. After his band wrapped up, we went on a did a very good first set. As usual, I made a bunch of clams, but it was all in good spirit. The second set was just as good in spirit, with less clams. After we finished doing our double percussion solo in "Don't You Ever Wash That Thing", Ed Palermo walked onstage to sit in for our encore. What a surprise! We ripped into "Peaches En Regalia", and it was probably the best version we've ever played. The post-show was relaxing and Laura gave me a new Project/Object tour shirt and then Dave LaRue-ified it for me by cutting off the sleeves. After loading out we had Mamoun's Falafel at 2AM. Mamoun's Falafel is just amazing. People travel long distances to have it. It's only $2 for a gigantic sandwich. After the joy of the devouring it, we took the late night drive to the infamous East Brunswick Motel 6 - the first hotel I stayed at with Project/Object.

Day Two: Troy, NY

Is it a huge problem that I'm listening to Gwen Stefani's "Sweet Escape" as I'm writing this? Absolutely. I'm about to listen to Steve Reich's "Music for 18 Musicians" instead, which is probably the complete antithesis of "Sweet Escape".
In my previous post, I just started to talk about the genius of Josh Oxford. I will elaborate in a bit. But first, here's another "It's such a small world"-ism: Josh played drums in Jordan Del Rosario's first band, and Jordan Del Rosario happens to be in a band called Cheers Elephant, which features Matt Rothstein on bass, who happens be my sister's boyfriend. Isn't that just crazy?
Anyway, Josh is from Ithaca, NY. There has to be something in the water up there. Not only is he a consummate drummer/percussoid/marimbaman, but he also plays piano like McCoy Tyner or something. His solos are breathtaking, melodically and rhythmically radical. It's like he's stuttering out sentences on that marimba, and he's one of the few musicians I've heard that knows how to put a period on the end of those sentences. He even has perfect pitch and he can improvise singing in twelve-tone! In fact, I can guarantee that Frank would have hired him.
The drive to Troy was another cold and lonely one, but we arrived early. We managed to get a great 2 hour practice in before the show. We run through "The Dog Breath Variations" about 5 or 6 times and it starts to sound great. I relaxed for a couple minutes after practice and decided it was time for dinner. I remembered that there was a place about 4 doors down. It's called Jose Malone's, which I am pretty sure is the world's only Mexican-Irish fusion restaurant. Can you even imagine that combination? Potato Burritos? I ordered a Salad Tostada and a Vegetarian Chili for after the show.
When I headed back to the venue I suddenly had a flashback to the last time we played there in January. There were a group of hecklers on the top left balcony who gave me the finger the whole time and would shout such absurdities as "Rye Fuckin' Bread!" and (this is a personal favorite) "Your smiles are superficial!"
As soon as this thought entered my brain, I looked up to the balcony and there they were! The good news about these guys is that the heckling comes from their serious love of our group, but it's still awfully confusing while playing a show. This time around they made tie-dye shirts with featured a detailed caricature of Frank wearing silly glasses. They were so adamant about us wearing these shirts on stage that one of the hecklers somehow made it past security and laid the shirts on the couch backstage.
We get onstage around 9:30 or so maybe, and play a pretty slamming first set. Practice makes perfect! I look towards stage left and I see a guy in the audience with a shirt that looks like a digital VU meter (if you aren't a nerd, look it up). In fact, I notice that his shirt is a real live VU meter with LED lights and it's monitoring the decibel level of our particular rock concert! Apparently he purchased it from a website called softhut.com. I just had to take a picture with him during the set break. I walked up to him and said, "You have no idea how much we love that shirt." He was a nice guy, and we took a picture of me looking baffled while pointing at the futuristic wonder shirt.
We did another slamming set and called it a night. During our breakdown someone had the idea to put Michael Jackson's "Number Ones" on the sound system. I did my best Thriller bridge section dance. If you dont know the moves from the video it's "clap, jiggle horizontally, shoulder shake, clap, zombie hands". The fans were wonderful and generous as usual. One girl randomly ran up to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Boy, I love Troy.