Pedal boards: Life in the awesome

If I were any sort of normal person, I would be asleep right now. However, since we all know that I’m really not, I am sitting in my room watching Super Troopers for the second time tonight. Actually, that’s a half-truth. I am sitting in my room unsuccessfully trying to steal internet access from my neighbors who think that setting up a Comcast account was (or is, rather) an excellent idea. As a result of their recent foray into the world of hell Comcast, using their internet signal is increasingly difficult as I can’t seem to get around the Comcast firewall login page thingy. I’m very good with these sorts of technical terms.

So, in my frustration to read about which In N Out Burger is the closest to LAX as I will be in that area in a mere two months and change and everyone keeps telling me “Oh, you have to go to In N Out Burger!” since I’ve never been… I decided to check out twitter [Follow me: @peanutisawesome] one last time for the evening on my iPhone (translation: I’m better than you because I have an awesome phone) before falling asleep with my television on for the seventh night out of the last eight. Birthday night doesn’t count. I don’t remember it. Someone told me today that I poked myself in the eyeball inadvertently with a straw on multiple attempts to drink water. Either I had a really good time or I’ve turned into Superman. Hell, it might even be both. Anyway… back to twitter.

My friend Nick [Follow him: @nickbaumhardt] has successfully parlayed his ability to play and record music into a career. He’s played with such bands as The Class of 98 and Thousand Foot Krutch… Currently, he’s recording and producing and playing for some lady that until recent Googling (you call it “stalking”, I call it “researching”), I had never heard of. Suffice it to say, the dude can play. Also, most of you who know me know that I may be the very worst guitar player in Nashville to trick people into thinking that I can actually play guitar. Seriously, if you just learn how to throw your guitar, stand on a bass drum from time to time, and get into the occasional scuffle before a show, people in this town will respect your on-stage abilities, as non-existent as they may be. As a couple of added bonuses, they will also come to respect your ability to use the hyphen and apparently chicks will dig you more… or so I’m told about the last part.

Nick also writes a blog that he updates on a relatively regular basis that gets a good amount of web traffic. He doesn’t have to rely on funny stories of adventures gone wrong to get people to go to his site because he’s actually making a go of it in the real world and offers advice and insight on the musical world, whereas I just write about how Justin Beiber sucks and how Kelly Clarkson comes into A Village of Flowers on a relatively regular basis these days. We think she’s stalking real-life Googling one of the designers. Wait a second… Strikethrough? Link to a website? Recalling two earlier jokes from the same blog entry? Hot damn! That’s talent! But back to it…

In Nick’s latest blog entry, he writes at length about pedal boards. You know those little metal and plastic boxes that guitar players kick with their feet (What the hell else are they gonna kick it with? Their ass?) that change the sound of their guitar… Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. It’s a good read. But, since he called me out personally in his entry (it’s near the end, trust me) asking for a response, I figured I better do it. And since I’m still wide awake and watching the “Car RamRod” scene was funny the first time and much less so the second, I figured I better own up to it.

In my years of pissing people off (let’s face it, it’s kind of a hobby of mine), when I built my first and only pedal board some four and a half years ago, I decided to have a little fun with it. Sure, I have rubber feet on it, and handles, and carpet… but I bet I’m the only person in Nashville that can play with Matchbox cars next to his tuning pedal while navigating a cityscape. You know, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I don’t have a record deal.

I don’t know what Nick will have to say about the psychology of my pedal board but it will probably be met with some sort shocked look and then an, “Oh, man!” I get that a lot here in Nashville.

I have however managed to make my guitars sound like the end of the world. I just turn everything up really loudly and play. If anyone wants that on an upcoming record, let me know. I’ve got the time… as long as it doesn’t interfere with what has become an apparent obsession with Super Troopers.

Paul McCartney and The Quest for Nashville's Money

The title of this blog sounds quite a bit like an adventure film. I wish it were. I'd be interested in seeing it.

So it appears that the Nashville social media universe is all abuzz [which I am shocked to find is actually a word] with the news that Sir Paul McCartney is playing at the Bridgestone Arena this summer. Why Nashville seems to care is beyond me.

That's right.

When I was 15 years old, right about the time I got the nickname with which I have been saddled for these past, well, 15 years, I discovered Rubber Soul. It all... you know... just made so much sense. Especially the track "Drive My Car"... because it was a euphemism for one thing but I thought it was actually about something else. Ah, to be young again. Which, if I had my druthers, is what Paul is probably thinking, too.

Just like every other high schooler in the past 50 years, I adored The Fab Four. Followed by stints of loving The Doors and then trying really hard to get into The Grateful Dead but then realizing that just because you have long hair and 9 1/2 fingers doesn't necessarily make you a good musician. Maybe I'm just latently jealous that I have all ten fingers, short hair, and the closest I ever got to music immortality is my entry in the allmusic guide. At least three people know that I'm on there now. Don't get me wrong, I understand why I liked The Beatles and why I still do. What I don't understand about The Beatles is why people liked anything that they did or have done since 1970.

There. I just said what you were all thinking.

My insanely talented friend Rachel Briggs has already started the Ram argument. It's pretty good but am I going to lose my mind about it? Definitely not. Besides... Dude went on to form Wings and be a vegetarian, so that's pretty much an automatic disqualification. Listen, Paul, if you're going to form a band called Wings, which I can only assume was inspired by the culinary delight and then become a vegetarian... that's automatic grounds for me taking all of your records and smashing them in the name of Jesus just like I was encouraged to do with all of my secular albums by my youth group leader when I was in high school. Oh, and he wrote "Love Take Me Down" which is an abomination in and of itself.

It's interesting to me that an artist that hasn't released something worthwhile since the Nixon administration and who has released such turds as such as "No More Lonely Nights" and "Jet" is getting to play an arena. Notice how I didn't say that I was surprised that he does, though. Why? Because those Jonas Brothers are getting to. Because Miley Cyrus gets nominated for Golden Globes. Because that "According to You" song is huge. Because maybe, just maybe, Paul was on to something naming his post-Beatles band after a food item 'cause he knew Americans would eat it up. See what I did there? Pretty good, huh?

So, for both of you wondering, I will not be attending Sir Paul's concert in July here in Nashville. It's not because the tickets are likely to be $75. It's not because I don't care about his music much anymore. It's not because all the auto-tune in the world ain't gonna help him out these days. It's because he hasn't been relevant since my parents were teenagers... Name me one other thing from the 1960's that you still get excited about.

I'm gonna go get a drink. I'll give you a minute to think about that.

Okay. Back.

Yeah, I didn't think so.

So, Sir Paul, that's cool that you're playing Nashville for the first time ever. I just don't think I care, though. As a matter of fact, I know I don't.

Being in a band

I semi-randomly found this video on youtube today. It's not as good as the mysterious piano playing ChatRoulette guy but I still got a kick out of it.



Do I miss playing music? Yes. Do I miss being in a band? Sort of, I suppose. I miss the creative process and playing shows (minus the lugging around of amps). I don't miss being told exactly what to play; I'm sure you know what I'm talking about if you're an indie rock guitar player who lives in Nashville.

I'm working on some new creative outlets as of late. One of them involves playing bass (which I haven't done on stage in probably 8 or 9 years). I'd also like to get a vanity project going... But again since this is Nashville, everyone wants to do something commercial. Imagine the exact opposite of that and there you go.

Big Bottom

I was reminded this past weekend how small the internet can make the world these days. I tend to forget but every once in a while (like when your boss comes across your blog because you mentioned her shoppe in one of your postings and big brother Google Reader fed her the information that someone somewhere in the world wrote about it... for instance) I am reminded that there is no more privacy anywhere any more. I'm not complaing. I play Nintendo Wii when I'm naked on a relatively frequent basis.

There. No privacy at all.

Bearing all of that in mind, I want to tell you a little bit about a band that I saw last night. They are called Big Bottom. They, unfortunately, sound nothing like the Spinal Tap song from which their name is clearly derived but they are every bit as sophomoric in a completely unintentional way. If any member of the band happens to be reading this, and based on the fact that several of them wore vests over their t-shirts and had gelled faux-hawks, I wouldn't be surprised if they are strokin' their... uhhh... egos to the internet by searching for themselves.

Let me harp on their image a bit more if I may... Sure, they all look like the kinds of guys who shop at Lucky Brand Jeans [writer's note: I actually really like Lucky's jeans] but they are the kind of guys who go there for the accessories. In the picture above, homeboy on the far left is wearing a cap with a skull and crossbones on it. I've done my fair bit of pirate research and I've never come across an authentic illustration or drawing or, hell, even a 17th century woodcarving where a pirate was depicted wearing a stylish cap they just spent $37 on at the mall.

And then the music. I specifically said last night the following quote about the band's songs:

"Their music sounds like it should be in a commercial for Wrangler jeans or a Cuba Gooding, Jr., movie." That's not a compliment.

At several times during their set, they advised the crowd to "get grunk". Listen, motherfuckers, the only person in the world who's gonna tell me to "get crunk" is Lil' Jon... not five white dudes who look like they smell like Really Ripped Abs.

Big Bottom (like The Mary Nails) represents everything that's wrong with the Nashville rock scene. We all know the country scene is just pop with a twang and 6 guitars on stage.

There are so many more deserving artists that deserved to be written about by me. So many talented rock bands. So many talented musicians. But I'm an ass... So I mostly write about stuff I cant stand. Congrats, Big Bottom... You're now on that list.

I'm sure you're all probably really nice guys. You've got grandparents that are proud of you. Your parents think that it's great your playing a gig in Atlanta this week. You probably go to church. You may even donate money to the Nashville Rescue Mission. But you're not writing songs worth a damn.

Also, your tattoos suck.