John vs. Paul

I remember once having a discussion with a friend about one of my favorite subjects, The Beatles. Been a Beatle freak all my life, I have, and this year being their 50th anniversary, wanted to get some thoughts down.

My friend was saying that he thought Paul was a little more talented than John. Now everyone is entitled to their own opinion, this is no communist state here, but I have to clear this up. This is hogwash. I'm not just saying this because I'm a John guy, but it's impossible to compare the two. Sure they churned out most of the Beatles' catalog together, but their writing and musical styles were miles apart. This is what made them a good partnership; they complemented each other.

 You can say that Paul had a knack for a melody. No argument here. But so did John. Listen to "This Boy", "If I Fell", "Across the Universe", "Yes It Is" "And Your Bird Can Sing", "No Reply", "Because". All John songs, and all stunningly beautiful melodies.

John's songs were more gutteral, more viceral, and at times, more desperate. Paul's love songs could get a woman's panties around her ankles, but John's love songs broke your heart, and made you think.

You can say Paul is a better singer. Listen to "Baby It's You", "Eight Days a Week", "Nowhere Man", the disturbingly haunting vocal on "A Day In The Life", not to mention the lead and backing vocals on "Rain". All sung by John with flawless execution.

I'm not down on Paul. I love his songs just as much as John's, but to say one is more talented than the other is missing the point. They were a major talent together, and accented each other's strengths, and built on each other's weaknesses. There had never been a partnership like this one, and there never will be again. Happy Anniversary, guys. Rock on.

(Not) Smoking Sucks!

I've been home from the hospital for 4 days, and the not smoking thing is starting to get a bit old. I've fallen off the wagon a couple of times, but I remain committed to the cause. I'm still determined to quit and stay that way, but the transition is harder than I thought it would be. I am going to see my doctor next week, and I will beg him to put me on a prescription to be more successful in quitting.

I don't need to state the harmful effects of smoking, of which I'm sure everyone is well aware. I have watched it claim the life of my mother, my father in law, and it is now in the process of claiming my best friend's dad. I try to be strong for my friend, but I know what she's going through, and what she is going to go through. I think it bothers me more than I am willing to let on to her.

No, I am here to state the fun parts about smoking. The things I'll miss if I quit. First of all, the business of  having something to do with your hands. With not smoking, I'm literally twiddling my thumbs alot.

I work for a lawn & tree care srvice, so I'm in the truck when I'm working. If I discover I have a 10 or so minute drive to my next stop, I celebrate the fact that that is time enough to puff one down on the way, and I look forward to it. Driving and smoking always seem a natural marriage. Flicking the ashes out the window, the way a cigarette looks in your hand as you grip the steering wheel.  And when driving at night, and you flick the smoked butt out the window, the pyrotechnic show you are treated to as you watch the butt hit the ground at 50mph and explode into a frenzy of wind blown orange sparks is always oddly satisfying.

In the movies of the 30s, 40s and really up to the 80s, smoking is always highly glamourized. In the older movies, the hero of the story is always a smoker, and he always looks very cool when doing it. And make no mistake, the ladies went for it. There is one movie that I don't know the name of , or who's in it, but in one scene, our hero is trying to impress a dame. He takes out two cigarettes, puts them both in his mouth, lights them both, then gives her one.  I have rarely seen anything much cooler than that. And you can tell that she is way impressed by it. The amount of cool that he uses to do this is legendary.

I will also miss the smoke breaks at work. I work in  a truck, but sometimes during the winter I work in the office, and as such, am entitled to a 5 minute smoke break once an hour. What am I gonna do with this five minutes?  The working environment seems to be designed around the smoker and his five minute breaks that he looks forward to for 55 minutes. I guess the noners just kinda sit there for five minutes not smoking, but not working either. My best friend and I usually make a ritual out having a morning smoke before work begins. We use this time to chat and just hang out. And if the conversation gets compelling, we'll have two smokes.

There is nothing more satisfying than a cigarette after a great meal. And, yes, after THAT, too. After getting home from a place where you can't smoke. After getting out of your non smoking friend's car. After getting out of a movie theatre. After being around your friend's children. Nothing is more disappointing than going to your favorite restarant and finding out it has gone smoke free. Over the years, it has been hard not to notice that  it is getting harder to find someplace in public to safely smoke.So there are many thing to miss about smoking. But hopefully I can find just as many compelling reasons not to smoke as I found to do it. The price of the damn things come to mind.

I'm certainly not going to preach to anyone about quitting. That has to be one's own decision. I know the addictive power they have, and I'm finding out how hard that is to deal with. Or without, as the case may be. I know I'm better off without them. Do me a favor....remind me of that once in awhile, ok?

NOTE: This was originally written in Oct of 2008, and published on my Myspace page. I am still struggling to quit, and no longer work in the lawn and tree care business. Sadly, my friend's father passed away about two weeks after this was published. 

My Stay in the Hospital

Well, what a week I've had.  A week ago tonight, my wife rushed me to the emergency room because I was having trouble breathing. It had started two nights earlier with what I thought was a bad head cold. The next night, my breathing was labored and shallow, which neither Deb or I thought was right(duh!).  So she took me in, and they diagnosed me with pneumonia, and was admitted for six days.

The only time I had ever been admitted to the hospital before was to have my tonsils out at age five. Sure, I had been to the ER before for various minor things, and over the years, visited parents, friends and realitives during their infimaries. But to have it be me this time was a bit strange. I've always been the strong one, the one who could work six days a week, go to church on the seventh, help Deb take care of her Mom, and help keep the house running, and deal with the varoius slings and arrows that life throws at you.  Guess even us rocks have to crumble a bit from time to time.

When I was first admitted, I was connected to a nice selection of antibiotics on an IV. After 24 hours, it was determined that they were not working, which I could've told them, cause I still felt like shit. So they switched meds, but just to cover their butts, ran a battery of other tests on me. My favorite one had to be the turbuculosis test. Very simple, really. They just prick you with a small needle,and wait 48 hours. If a big red ring appears where they stuck you, you have TB. If not, you don't. I don't. But in that 48 hours, I was basically quarrentined. The door to my room was kept closed, and anyone that came in had to wear a protective gown and surgical mask. Doctors, nurses and vistors alike.  There are some nurses I had whom I'm not sure if I could identify again.  Do not underestimate the sheer weirdness of everyone around you having to be protected in such a way. I even had the nerve to be surprised by the lonlieness that it generated. Deb was wonderful, she was there all the time. But when it got late, I encouraged her to go home, and sleep and take care of herself. It was after she left, during the isolation that got weird. No nurses would come in for hours, unless I called. I couldn't hear any noise from outside the room, as the door was closed.  Sure, I had books, TV and my ipod for company, but being that alone was not something I was used to. I came from a big family, joined the Navy, got married. I had never lived alone, or even really ever spent many nights alone. Definately odd.After the 48 hours, the quarrentine was lifted, and the masks  and gowns came off. I spent another three days feeling better,but waiting for the prescribed antibiotics to finish being administered. You know what happens when you have an IV pouring into you for six days nonstop? You pee alot. Of course, this very act becomes a well choreographed manuver when you have to take the f***ing IV pole to the john with you. At first, I would unplug it from the wall (relax, it had a back up battery), and move it. Then after a couple days, I figured out that I could keep it plugged in as long as I moved it just so, and the length of the hose coming from my arm afforded me the distance I needed to get as close to johnny as I could to conduct my business. When was the last time you put so much thought, planning and execution into taking a whizz?

So now I'm home. Off for the rest of the week. Under doctor's orders to not do any strenous activity. I get to lay around all day. Sounds nice, but starting to go a little bonkers. And I gotta quit smoking. Oh, didn't I tell you? Smoker for 30 years. Most likely the reason for my impromptu vacation. I'm on a nicotine patch, but man oh man, this is rough. I know, I know. I'm better off, will be much healthier, yada, yada, yada. But that's a whole other blog.

One of my good friends is in nursing school. Just gotta say that I had about 8 or 9 different nurses and nurses assistants while I was there, and with the exception of 1 or 2, they were top flight professionals. They all were very compassionate, humorous, friendly,and just great to be cared for by. My friend in school, and you know who you are, this is the standard to which you must aspire. The nurse is the link to the patient from the weird medical world that no one understands, and they made the transition effortless. Always reassuring, never aloof. Nurses rock.

So, wish me luck. With the pnuemonia recovery, the smoking cessation (PLEASE!!), the writing long winded blogs at two in the morning.  But probably,most of all, with trying to slow down a little. I will spare you the cliches about stopping to smell the roses, but it's neccessary. Yeah, there's thorns, but there's also a beautiful flower to look at. And the fragrance. Just try to describe the fragrance. 

NOTE: This was originally written in October of 2008, and published on my Myspace page.

O Captain, My Captain

When I was in the Navy, I was a quartermaster. To the layman, I worked with the ship's navigation team. As such, you maintain the ship's course on a chart on the bridge. Chart is another name for map. In the quartermaster business,you never ever call it a map. Chart. Always a chart. So, here I am, on the bridge, plotting the ship's course on the CHART and the ship's Captian strolls over from his side of the bridge. Now, when the Captain of the world's largest aircraft carrier (at the time anyway) comes over to the plot table, he just wants an update of where we are, when the next course/speed change is coming, etc.  He's usually followed by about 20 officers all trying to kiss his butt, and one of them gets to give him a briefing at the plot table. So, being a lowly enlisted man, I drop what I'm doing and get out of the way. If you're lucky, maybe he'll ask you to give him the briefing, or at least acknowledge your puny existence.

The ship was the U.S.S Nimitz, and the commanding officer was Capt. Paul Ilg. That's right, Ilg. You pronounce it just like it reads. Anyway, he was a short & stocky little man. He lifted weights regularly, and was on the wrestling team at the Naval Academy. He was very soft spoken,  didn't really say all that much. The previous captain was a loud gregarious man, So Capt Ilg took a little getting used to.  The top of his head was graced with one of the worst man rugs I'd ever seen. When he was not on the bridge, it was the topic of conversation and ridicule.

So, I'm at the plot table, with my pencil and dividers, plotting the ship's course, and here comes the Captain. Guess who was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn't see the old man coming? Before I knew it, I was bumped about a foot to the side, stumbled, dropped my pencil, my dividers (navigation tool). Really a graceful moment. My immediate thought was that it was one of my fellow enlisted guys being funny. I looked over and the Captain is standing there, with an extremely satisfied grin on his face. He slapped me on the back, and asked for his briefing. What could I do? I looked like an idiot in front of everybody, but the Captain was pleased, so it was all good. I gave him his briefing, and had a great story to tell everybody later.

A couple of days later, I was once again hunched over the plot table, and the Captain approached. This time, I saw him coming, and moved out of the way. He reached  the table, looked at me and gestured to "come here" by tapping on the table. I inched over, well aware of what he's going to do. He taps the table again, and I inched closer to him. I finally get next to him, and he bumped me out of the way. This of course, lead to uproarious laughter on the bridge.  A bit red faced, I gave hin his damn briefing, and he moved on. Now I had an even better story to tell.

Some months later he was relieved of command of the Nimitz. This is a regular occurence. A Captain will command a ship for two and a half, maybe three years, then move on to another assignment. There was a huge change of command ceremony, with hundreds in attendance, that we spent weeks getting ready for. The next day was Capt Ilg's last day on board. I was on the bridge, looking over some charts, and he came in. Being that we were at our homeport, I was alone  catching up some "inport" work. He came over and shook my hand, and made some small talk for a minute. Then he took a final look around the bridge, and went over where his chair was, and grabbed his ashtray.This was 26 years ago, and you could smoke on the bridge, or damn near anywhere on the ship. The Captain was a cigar smoker, much to the disgust of the non smoking senior officers, and most everybody else.  I, and most of my shipmates were cigarette smokers, so ashtrays on the bridge were a common sight. Nowadays, the entire fleet  is smoke free.

The ashtray he kept by his chair was huge! It was made of gold colored beveled glass, and weighed a ton. I know, I used to have to empty and clean the damn thing. It was a beautiful piece of work, and being a smoker, I thought it would look good on my coffee table at home. It was his bridge ashtray, and when he wasn't around, extreme care was taken not to move or, God forbid, break it.

He surveyed the bridge one last time, ashtray in hand. I was still over on my side of the bridge, dealing with charts. He called my name and said "Think fast!", and the next thing I knew, the ashtray was hurtling it's way across the bridge, all 40 pounds of it. Well, it was heavy, ok? I made a brilliant catch that would have rivaled anything Barry Sanders ever caught. Relieved that it was still in one piece, and trying to confirm weather or not I had actually"made" in my pants,  I was tempted to throw it back. I thought he was starting an impromptu game of catch. He then smiled and said I was a good shipmate, and left the bridge. It was then that I realized he had given me his bridge ashtray.

It's funny when you think about the kind of stuff you remember over the years. For some reason, that has always stuck with me. Sadly, I don't have the ashtray anymore. It got lost or broken somewhere along the way. But anytime I see one like it, I remember Capt Ilg. And  anytime I see a bad toupee, I remember Capt Ilg.

Desert Island Albums

Desert Island Albums

Ever wonder what it would be like to be stuck on a desert island? Not like on "Lost", where there's a thousand people around, and outrageous happenings happening. More like a Tom Hanks situation in "Cast Away". Completely alone, nothing with you. Except, of course, your favorite cds of all time! The ones you've always loved for years and can't imagine not having in your collection. How would you hear them, stuck on a desert island and all? You're resourceful. You'll think of something. Which ones would you bring? Me? Glad you asked.

1. Travelling Wilburys "Vol. 1"  1988  George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Tom Petty. The best work any of these guys had done to date. And they did it together. Get this one if you don't have it.

2. Blue Angel  "Blue Angel" 1980  Cyndi Lauper's band before becoming famous. Great album. Full of 60's inspired romps played with high energy and wicked precision. Lauper's vocals rival any solo effort, except on "Everybody's Got An Angel", which she wails woefully off key. Other than that, solid performances from both her and the band.

3. Donnie Iris  "Back On The Streets" 1981  Donnie Iris had a small radio hit in 1969 with a band called The Jaggerz. The song was "The Rapper". This is his first solo effort and was well worth the wait. Great melodies, great rock grooves, layer upon layer of vocals and guitars to create an 80's "wall of sound". This is the album that yielded "Ah! Leah".

4. The Beatles  "Abbey Road"  1969  I am a Beatle freak, so any of their albums would do, but this is one of my favorites. They knew they wanted to break up, but wanted to do one more album before calling it quits. The result is sheer perfection. Lovingly crafted and produced, it is a fine farewell from the greatest band of all time.

5. The Osmonds  "The Plan"  1973  Stop laughing. This was their "Sgt. Pepper", and they managed to pull it off. Concieved as a love letter to God, it is insightful, well written and well played

.6. "The Music Man"  1962  Motion Picture Soundtrack  Okay, this you can laugh at, and I won't care. I love the musical trickery that courses through this one. Contains the world's very first rap song. And, I'm sorry, but in the movie, Shirley Jones is too hot for words.

7. Squeeze "East Side Story"  1981  They wanted Paul McCartney to produce this, and it shows. They had ditched their electronic sound by this time, and went with Beatle sounding songs that work remarkably well. Paul didn't produce. Instead they had Elvis Costello, with two tracks produced by Nick Lowe and Dave Edmunds. The cream of the second British invasion.

8. Squeeze  "Cool For Cats"  1979  Two albums previous, it has some of the electronic sound, but mostly just good pop. It was their second album, with material intended for their first. When they showed up to record the first album, the producer didn't like any of the songs they brought with them, so he sent them away to write new stuff.  Thank God they saved the original stuff. It is severley infectious music.

9. Barenaked Ladies  "Gordon"  1992  Again, any of these guys' cds would do, but this one is special. Their debut album, you can hardly believe they were in their early 20's when this one was done. All acoustic, they run the gambit of musical styles and moods through the songs here. Probably one of the best albums I've ever heard.

10. Heart "Greatest Hits/Live"  1980  The only reason I brought this one was for the cover of Aaron Neville's "Tell It Like It Is". If Annie's vocals don't give you goose bumps, you ain't alive.

I'm sure there's more  I'm forgetting, but that's a good start. These are the cds that I will never get sick of.  How about you? What would you bring? If you're coming, bring me a freakin' cd player, would ya?

John Lennon

Today is the 30th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon. Really, I should say death, because calling it a murder gives creedence to the man (and I use that term loosely) who pulled the trigger.

The loss of  Lennon was personal to many. It's always a bit sad when your favorite entertainer or celebrity dies, especially in such a violent way. You mourn for a bit, then get on with your life. But this loss cut much deeper. So many of us had literally grown up listening to and being influenced by John. I was too young to really remember The Beatles in their heyday, though I was aware of them. Being the youngest of six, all my siblings owned and listened to Beatle records.  I was a bit older in the 70's after the breakup, and became aware of Lennon's antics. His anti war protests, the weird stuff he and Yoko did publicly such as the bed ins, the bag art, the Two Virgins album. As a kid, I thought he was a little strange, and gravitated more towards Paul McCartney's solo work, as it was a bit more palatable.

Predictably, as I got into jr high school, and then high school, I began to get it. Though he retired from public life for five years, I was still interested in what he was up to, and gained a new appreciation for his post Beatle music. When he came back in 1980 with a new album, new look, new attitude, I was thrilled. He had grown up. He spent five years raising his son, Sean, and seemed the wiser for it. Sure, he was still the same John Lennon  who believed in the causes that he always had, but somehow he seemed more accessible. Like a regular guy who was wildly famous. I would read in the papers that he would walk around New York city, not flanked by a security detail, and that people could approach him on the street and he would be happy to sign an autograph, pose for a picture, shake a few hands. As long as he had his Yoko, his new son, and the city he loved, everything was alright with John.

At about 11:45 pm, December 8th, 1980, my Mom and I were watching Johnny Carson (for you kids, he hosted The Tonight Show before Jay Leno). My brother was working at Cunningham's  and scheduled to get off around 1:00 am or so. Tom and I had spent the last few months tracking Lennon's return to the public eye and had nearly worn out our copy of "Double Fantasy".  NBC interrupted the Tonight Show with news of the death of John Lennon. He had been shot outside his New York city apartment building after returning home from a recording session. I felt the blood drain from my face, and my mother and I stared at each other in disbelief and shock. When Tom came home from work, we stayed up all night listening to the radio to John's music and interviews. It seemed so surreal.

What made it so personal was the utter frustration that so much was going well for him at the time. I was excited at the prospect of more new music from him, and  thought that he may tour, and maybe even come to Detroit. Now it was gone, all gone. I was just old enough to understand his quirkiness, and could identify with it. The thought that he was such an advocate for peace and had to die this way was more of a nauseating irony than I could deal with.

 I have since lost  people that  I love and care about over the years, including my older brother, Ed. Of course these losses still hurt, but John Lennon's death still stings a bit as well. I find myself wondering if he would have gotten involved in Live Aid, or in the fight against apartheid. 9/11 would have broken his heart. He'd have a Twitter account, be on Facebook, and probably would have loved his smartphone.

 As with any personal loss, we are left with the memories. But John also left us his commitment to peace and justice. And, thank God, he left us his music. And in that music, hope, and the fact that even in these violent, horrible times that he was fortunate not to see, all we need is love.

Steven Page Live at the Royal Oak Music Theatre 11/5/2010

Steven Page, former frontman of Canadian pop group Barenaked Ladies, embarked on his first solo tour this fall. Having released his first  album, "Page One", he set out to introduce himself as a solo act to his faithful BNL fans. Following a much publicized split with his band two years earlier, and an even more publicized cocaine arrest, Page took the stage this night in Royal Oak, Michigan looking a bit nervous, but still with the swagger his fans had come to know.

 Like any great band, BNL was headed up by a two man partnership, this one comprised of Page and Ed Robertson, friends since early adolescence. Through 20 years, 10 albums and countless tours, the two had grown apart. Us BNL fans like to think it was an amicable split, but surely there were deeper issues than just creative differences. The thought that these two, who had so much chemistry together in the studio and onstage, would not be friends anymore is difficult to process. They both state publicly that that is not the case, and we hope so.

Steven Page opened his show with a track from his new album called "A New Shore", his thoughts on his new career direction. Throughout the night, he rotated between BNL songs and his own. Every other song was from his old band.  This was clearly expected, and a treat for me as I prefer his songs to those of Robertson, in most cases. He sounded good although his voice didn't hold out quite as well, as you could see the embarrassment on his face when he flubbed a note. The crowd reaction was positive, and he was brought back for two encores, to standing ovations.

The odd part was the lack of chemistry with his back up band. There were no exchanges of witty banter between singer and band, and the band were playing from sheet music, as if performing in a high school assembly. The sound was good, they were tight, but they looked uncommitted.
Page himself seemed awkward, especially when he nearly apologized to the crowd for being on his own. He said  for those who had seen BNL as a quintet, then a quartet, he thought it might be weird to see him by himself. Then he quickly added, "Well, I'm not by myself, I'm with these awesome people here.", as he  gestured to the band. It seemed an awkward faux pas that spoke volumes about the fact that his new band was not BNL, and he thinks we wish they were.

He played a song called "Enid" from BNL's debut album, "Gordon". Quite simply, it's about a failed relationship, and the singer wants to get out with his dignity intact. He introduced it by saying that this song could describe the troubles he's been through over the last two years (the arrest, the split with his band and writing partner). Clearly, Ed Robertson has taken on the persona of Enid in his mind. Publicly he has said that leaving the band was what he wanted, but he still seems to be hurting over it.

Steven Page will be alright. This is his first solo outing, and apparently there is a learning curve that he didn't see coming. The split is still fresh, and he needs to work through that. We hope that future tours will find him more confident, and more comfortable in his role as solo artist, rather than band member. He has much to offer, and I can't wait to see what he does next. He will only be limited by his own demons,which hopefully, will be exorcized as time passes.