Sadly, there's much Les Paul in the world as of today.

You hear that sound? That's the sound of billions of people all over the world typing "RIP LES PAUL" on message boards and social time wasters.. er.. networking sites on the internets. I won't waste my time repeating what you can certainly read elsewhere about Les Paul other than saying the dude was pretty much a genius.

In June of 2008 Wifey and I reserved tickets a month in advance to go see Les at the Iridium Jazz club in NYC on our wedding anniversary. The show happened to fall exactly on our anniversary date (July 7th), so that was pretty much a no-brainer. Sweet!

A month later we walked to the Iridium a couple of hours early which was just a few blocks from our hotel in NYC. Our hearts sank a little when we saw that there was a pretty long line already started to get in, and seating was first come first serve. While were in the long line to get in and sweating our tails off, a cartoon bubble popped up over my head of us sitting behind a big concrete post (the club is in a basement) and having to lean over for the entire show to see anything.

Wifey mentioned in passing to a woman ahead of us that we were there for our anniversary. She told us to hold on, went past the line and into the bar with her son, and 5 minutes later her son came out and said "Come on." It turns out she had a connection at the club and smuggled us in. We caught the tail end of the early set in the back of the bar (he always did two - an early and late set). At the end of the tune we walked in on, it was encore time and Les announced that he had a special guest he'd like to invite on stage... Steve Miller and a few of his band mates. Lo and behold, Steve Miller walked right past us (I could see the stubble starting to grow in from his shave earlier that morning) and cranked out a mellow version of "Fly Like an Eagle" with Les. That fuckin' ruled.

The bar cleared out and not only did we get to stay for the second set (the one we made reservations for in the first place), but the bar was toadilly empty and we had our pick of where we wanted to sit. Damn! We sat right smack dab in front and for the next 1.5 hours sipped on overpriced blue martinis while watching the most humbling guitar playing that I've ever been privileged enough to experience at a live show. Complete with another Steve Miller encore, which was a surprise to that crowd but at that point we were thinking "Pssht... that's soooo two hours ago." (Kidding.)

Afterward there was a meet-n-greet and Les hung out at a table with a beer by his side and signed stuff/took pictures with fans (including us). He didn't stop until every last person was taken care of. I think it was around 1:30AM when we got out of there. Not too shabby for a 93 year old!

Even though we were probably just a blur to him in a long line of fans, it was one of the coolest things ever. We walked up and out of the bar and walked aimlessly around Manhattan trying to keep our jaws from hanging open from all of the awesomeness we'd just taken in. We ended up at Ray's pizza and each ordered a slice from a life-long Ray's pizza serving associate who beared a striking resemblance to Sloth from The Goonies.

Good stuff.

---

Thanks for making the music world what it is today, and for the memorable anniversary. Tonight we will raise our glasses to our framed napkin and bar tab which we had Mr. Paul sign. In between packing up boxes I will play my Les Paul until my shoulder hurts... which I'm guessing will take about 20 minutes. Them things is heavy, yo.




Money shot of Les' pedalboard taken from where we were sitting (click for larger image)

It's as if pirates were made to be videographers

Think about it.. typically they've got a patch over one eye, so all they have to do is put the camera up to their good eye. No one-sided squinting necessary.

Maybe that's why Sammy Davis Jr. was so into collecting cameras...?

Hey, I know... Let's move to Brooklyn!

There's so much overdue correspondence in regards to this move of ours it's not even funny. I guess that's to be expected when you decide to quit your job, pack up and move 1200 miles away to one of the busiest cities in the world... in three weeks.

Rather than say and type the same thing over and over a few dozen more times, I'm taking the more efficient route and just doing it via this journal entry on the internets. That said, if you've ended up here by chance, welcome. On the other hand, if I've sent you a link to this entry as a result of you saying something along the lines of What the Hell... they're really moving? Are they crazy? Here's the pooper scooper:

First off, let's get the two frequently asked questions out of the way right now:

Most frequently asked question #1: Do you have jobs?

Nope. We've got savings which should last for a good while as long as we're smart with it. Aside from that, we'll figure it out when we get there.

Most frequently asked question #2: What's in NY?

That's a loaded question with a billion answers. The biggest one for me personally though is the kind of music I like to make is a bit... Abby Normal. Minneapolis is great and all, but I've always felt there's something more out there for what I like to do. Since going to New Yolk, my gut tells me whatever it is, it's probably there waiting for me. Thankfully I have a wonderful and supportive Wifey who feels the whirlwinds of creativity in the air there as well and is 200% behind living there, so POOF. Off we'll go at the end of August into the sunset in a 16' truck full of our crap and 2 cats... which will coincidentally be full of their crap as well (and hopefully hold it between potty stops).

Wifey and I are at an age now where there's a fork in the road, and we can either take the comfortable and relatively predictable road and keep doing what we're doing like people are programmed to do, or we can take the other, not so traveled one. We've opted for the latter of the two. We honeymooned in NYC a few years ago and the moment we emerged from the smelly, humid subway terminal up into the busy streets of Manhattan, that was it. Remember that scene in The Jerk when Navin R. Johnson heard the ultra-white swing music in the middle of the night and he suddenly came to life and had to move to St. Louis? That's pretty much what it was like.

Unlike Navin who took the hitchhiking route, we started saving up money after the honeymoon and secretly made our last trip to Brooklyn this past July a quest to find an apartment. It was a pretty brutal week of searching but on the last day we found our new home. Tuesday (Aug. 4th) we got the call that we were given the thumbs up to rent an apartment in the lovely Park Slope area of Brooklyn. We received the lease via Fed Ex that Thursday and signed/sent it off the next day. You only live once, so what the fruck... ya know?

We are determined to make this work. If this ends up chewing us up and spitting us back out to the Twin Cities, which I don't think it will, at least we tried... and that's much better to me than not trying at all. Human beans are taught to abide by tradition. Well... I guess we're not traditional!

Family, band members, and friends: you all know that I already miss you like crazy. Fer reals. That's the hardest part of this all. I will be adamantly journaling this whole transition and the wackiness that ensues as a result on this here blog though, so bookmark it now and check back often.

It's time for us to live. The STOP sign at the end of our street in Minneapolis pretty much says it all:





Hell NO we won't.

PRESS RELEASE: Micycle returns to blogger

I used to type these blog things almost every other day for quite a while. But then real life intervened and every other day became every other week... and every other month... and then that turned into a year, and so on. It's time to change that!

I have no idea where to begin. So much has happened over the past couple of years. Allow me if you will to present some of the highlights in a neatly organized bulleted list format:

• I got married to a very cool and very hot momma, putting a permanent end to my "IS EVERY WOMAN OUT THERE A FUCKING NUTJOB??" woes. Just like I'm sure it is with boys, I discovered that the answer to that question is yes. You just have to find the proper frequency of fucking nutjob-ness in that other person; one that is properly in sync with yours.
• I got a new job. And then I was laid off from that job. And then I got a new job 4 months later: my old job at the same place, but with better pay. So technically my new job wasn't "new" per se; I already had it at one time and then someone else did it for a while. So maybe I should call it a gently used job. I like my job. Lots.
• I fulfilled a lifelong goal of actually setting foot in New York City. Twice in the past two years and hopefully much, much more in the future. We first went for our honeymoon in July of 2007 and let me tell you what: the second we emerged from the humid, dark, reeky subway terminal up into the narrow, noisy streets of Manhattan, I felt like I was home.
• Another goal fulfilled: Owning a hollowbody Gretsch guitar. The Wifey bought me my first one as a surprise Thanksgiving/Can't Wait Until Christmas gift in 2007, and my other one came home with us from Manny's in NYC in 2008. You know when you try a pair of jeans on and they fit perfectly? That's how those guitars are for me. If I play any other kind of guitar now it feels unnatural and I feel like I'm cheating on them.
• I stopped playing acoustic guitar pretty much altogether. I'm sick to death of hearing those Finnegan songs and haven't felt like writing anything new, so my acoustic guitar is in hibernation until whenever I decide to bust it out again. Who knows when that will be. When I tell people that, they say "Ooooh, but that stuff is so gooooooood!" Thank you! So are pancakes, but that doesn't mean you want to keep eating them and eating them every day.¹
• I've been in a creative dry spell for a year or two now and feel a strong need to bust out of it, hence my dusting off the ol' virtual blog pen and typing this today. I need a creativity enema.
• In another attempt to break the creativity block, in addition to Iced Ink last fall I joined a new band called fe-rah'go. I am very fortunate to be playing in 2 bands with extremely talented musicians who are awesome people.
• I have lost a lot of patience and hope with the local music scene here in Minneapolis.
• I never, ever thought I'd go to Mexico. I never really had the desire, much less the opportunity. All of my life that was always something in pictures and on TV that other people did. It turns out that when given the opportunity to go to Mexico for the mere price of airfare and food, the desire was kicked up a few notches. We went last month and it was awesome.
• Whilst baking in the sun by the pool in Mexico, I read Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries; a compelling and disturbing conglomeration of journal entries he wrote in the late 80's at both Motley Crue's peak as well as the peak of his heroin addiction. The book made me realize that I used to write journal entries on this here site and made me miss it a little. It also made me thankful that I've never tried heroin and therefore never wrote a journal while on the heroin.
• Last Halloween I was Mork and shaved off my goatee for the first time in about 12 years.
• I am now a beer snob. (Gee, thanks a lot Joe Berkman on bass!)
• BLOG. I've never liked that word, and it's starting to sound a little dated now. So I think I'll just call this a journal.

That's alls I've got for now. It's a good start. My goal is to have another meatsmoothie.blogspot.com spewing posted within the next 48 hours. Can you handle the suspense?

_{1 Subtle Mitch Hedberg reference}

Van F*&kin' Halen, bro. (Part Uno of Dos)

When I first heard that David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen finally buried the hatchet and were going on tour, I pert near soiled my pants with joy, much like the whole KISS Reunion 12 years ago. I was a bit torn when I learned that Eddie's son Wolfgang would be taking over the bass duties and that the band (a.k.a. Edward) had basically written Michael Anthony out its history. You know that chick you hear doing backup vocals in all of the VH tunes? That's Michael Anthony. That and his overall stage presence were a major part of the Van Halen experience for me. I got mad and disowned this new incarnation of Van Halen, David Lee Roth or not.

Until the day of the show rolled around, that is.

On the way into work on 3rd Avenue in downtown, I heard the words Van Halen, Concert, Tonight, and Target Center on the radio. My heart reminded me that it was in my chest by making me feel as if it were an overinflated beach ball that just burst at the seams and and was getting cold and shrively. I haven't missed a Van Halen show since I was old enough to go to concerts, and sadly for me, my concert-going ripeness arrived a year or two after Roth was no longer in the band.

About an hour later, my lovely wife forwarded me an email from her co-worker trying to off her nosebleed Van Halen tickets. I got my hopes up and asked her to pursue, but by the time we heard back, the tickets were gone like a fart in a windstorm. We both wanted to go to the show now, and I was in full-throttle Van Halen Ticket Acquisition Mode. I made numerous Ticketmaster attempts and decided I didn't be raped upwards of $130 to sit up in the few remaining high altitude/limited stage view seats.

Enter: good old trusty Ebay.

It was high noon and I found a pair of 32nd row floor tickets that were going to the highest bidder at 3PM. Ebay "will I win" euphoria was power-vomiting itself through the cockles of my heart. 3:05 rolled around and I was still the highest bidder at $150 for both tickets. Hell yeah! Just ONE of those tickets cost $147.50, not to mention additional TicketBastard fees. I called the dude whose name was Ryan and he sounded legit. He closed the auction and the tickets were mine. I wanted to Jump - JUMP! Go ahead and Juuuump.

Ryan needed his money before he could email me the tickets, so he got all of my contact info and my Ebay ID and sent me an invoice for me to PayPal him his loot. I never got an invoice so called him after 20 minutes passed. "Well I sent it twice now... you didn't get anything? Okay. Let me look into this and call you back in 10 minutes."

A half an hour passed. Nothing. I called him back and he suddenly developed an intense case of verbal constipation. "Um, well, looks like someone placed a bid before I closed the auction so the tickets went to someone else. Sorry!"

Turns out I was outbid by $7.50 and although the winner clearly wasn't me, Ryan took up permanent residence on my shit list by giving the other guy, who bid at 3:22, (AFTER I talked to him the first time and gave him all of my info, mind you) the tickets. And he was too much of a meow-meow to have the decency to call me back and tell me. Just for that, don't ever buy a car from a guy named Ryan at Eich Motors in St. Cloud. Oops, did I say that?

So yeah, I was hella pissed. I found one more set of 23rd row main floor tickets on Ebay available for over $300. I sent him a best offer of $150 which of course wasn't going to happen, but at least I tried.

I drove home ticketless. I travel directly past the front side of Target Center every day on the way home from work. That day as I passed and sat at the red light on 7th and Hennepin, to my left I had the Hard Cock Cafe cranking Van Halen and people sitting outside nursing delicious beers before the show. And to my immediate right was the Target Center, and the fenced off Van Halen tour buses.

I rarely cuss out loud, especially when no one's within earshot, but I recall mumbling "Fuck off!" at that moment. It was similar to Pee Wee sitting on the bench bikeless and everyone biking past him.

I got home and checked my email, and saw a new message that told me YOUR BEST OFFER OF $150 WAS ACCEPTED. Well I'll be danged, there is a Gawd after all! And his name is Edward Van Halen... and we were going to be watching him from the 23rd row in less than 3 hours.

Um.. Ryan who?

Part II: Concert and people-watching review to come soon.

Separated at birth?

Not sure whether or not this has been noticed yet, but I can't be the only one that sees the resemblance.. is James Lipton actually a Gibb?

Today is my Mom's anniversary of being born!

Today my Mom turns.. um.. I don't know? Good job, Mom! You're the best mother I've ever had, and not only am I incredibly thankful that you rule so much and you're such great phone support when I have a cooking question, but I'm also incredibly thankful that you had such awesome kids.

I ponder what my Mom's pre-husband and kids life must have been like when her birthday rolls around, and it's really bizarre for me to imagine. It's hard to believe that my Mom was freshly born at one time and was not housebroken. At one time in her life, my Mom weighed less than a sack of pataytas and my Grandma was wiping her poopie butt and changing her diapers. I have pictures to prove that she was once that small; but still it's fooking strange to think about my Mom being younger than me.

I remember Mum was driving me around running errands when I was a youngen. I asked her how old she was, and she said 32. I'm 32+1 right now, and I get the heebie jeebies when I think that I'm as old as my Mum was when I asked her that question. She already had gotten married and had kids long before that, and damn.. that's just weird. Kind of like when I was 27 and got a copy of my person receipt (a.k.a. birth certificate) - it said that my Dad was 27 when I was born. (insert Twilight Zone music here)

At any rate, as anyone who has met the lady knows, my Mom toadilly rules. If there were a Best Mom In The World contest, she would win, hands down. You think your Mom is cool? Nah-ah. Outside of her Mom, my Dad's Mom, the Mom of my nephews and niece, and my future Other Mom, all other Moms suck eggs. Lela's Mom is pretty awesome too now that I think about it, so I'll give her Mom immunity as well.

Let's just hope that the less fortunate egg sucking moms are sucking on my Mom's homemade deviled eggs. It will give them an idea of how they should taste next time they try to make 'em.

Enjoy your day of birth, Mom!

Past Blogs of Birthday Mommery:

2005
2004