Hit Rewind: Uncool, Cassette Tapes on Comeback

I’m musically hip again.

Maybe not my musical tastes so much, but my music listening format is definitely hip again.

As hip as something can be after it has been declared so by that bastion of all things pop culture, The Wall Street Journal.

She is Love: My Musical Oasis for Valentine’s Day

My talent knows many bounds, never more so when it comes to music. That’s why the idea of giving My Love a song as a Valentine’s Day present is so daunting.

Then I stumbled upon “She is Love” by Oasis.

The tune, written and sung by Noel Gallagher during a break from bashing brother Liam about the head, popped up on my iTunes radio the other day and refused to leave my brain. In a good way.

So I did some Googling.

“Well some things you can explain away, but …”

ME: So how’d guitar lessons go today?

LI’L DIVA: Good.

ME: Practice those (windmilling ala Pete Townshend) power chords again?

LI’L DIVA: (rolling eyes) No.

ME: Ahem. Learn anything new?

LI’L DIVA: Yeah, some song by … The .. Clack?

ME: The Clash?!

LI’L DIVA: Yeah.

ME: (eyes popping) Which one? Which one? “Should I Stay or Should I Go”? I actually sang that in our band in high school. We never played any where outside of my friend Tim’s basement before --

LI’L DIVA: No.

ME: “Rock the Casbah”? We also --

LI’L DIVA: No.

ME: "(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais"?

LI’L DIVA: What?

ME: Which song?

LI’L DIVA: “Train” something …

ME: “Train in Vain”?

LI’L DIVA: Yeah.

ME: I have The Clash on Broadway box set you can borrow and -

LI’L DIVA: What’s a “box set”?

I have apparently failed on many, many levels.

+ + + Don’t be selfish – share the love by using one or more of the social bookmark buttons below or in your feed reader. Thanks!

“Running Over the Same Old Ground”

Last night’s 12.12.12 Mega-Concert of AARP-eligible Rockers raising money for Superstorm Sandy victims had slipped my mind. Instead, I voluntarily bore witness to middle school students performing holiday classics.

The string ensemble killed. Not in the showbiz sense of wowing the audience into a dropped-jaw state of awe but in the Biblical sense of “… and Yahtzblob slew Kincadia with jawbone of an ass then danced the tarantella through the bloody entrails.” Why more parents of public school violin players aren’t throwing themselves in front of commuter buses remains a testament to the high quality of our nation’s antidepressant supply.

Then there was the chorus of which Li’l Diva. The girl loves to sing. Just not what teachers want her to sing. If it’s not One Direction or Ke$ha or the Beibster, it ain’t worth expelling the breath. She faked her way through most of her four songs. She’s more than ready for next year’s scheduled bout of teenage angst.

A Very Saxy Interlude

When it came time for Excitable to select an instrument to learn at school this year, his initially mentioned an interest in the flute.

This would have been awesome if he had previously shown any interest in my dusty stack of Jetho Tull vinyl in the corner of our basement, or at least in this key scene in one of my all-time favorite movies:

Truth be told, his only interest came from knowing his sister had played flute in elementary school and that she might be able to help him fake his way through it.

Well, as long as it wasn’t the screech of the violin, I could live with it. However, I thought I’d drop one sly hint on someone else’s behalf.

“Your mom,” I said, “would LOVE it if you tried to learn the saxophone.”

“I know you know that you're an April Fool”

My shenanigan for today is to offer you a refuge from the usual April 1 hijinks. Seriously.

Song/video: “April Fool,” Ronnie Lane

If you enjoyed the tune, there’s an excellent BBC documentary on the artist, the late Ronnie Lane (whose birthday is today, hence the song), available in six parts on YouTube called The Passing Show. Talented musician who had a long streak of bad luck, personally and professionally, but a poet’s soul and a minstrel’s heart.

I wanted to post a video of his most famous song with The Faces but frickin’ YouTube blocks the embedding, so instead here’s the link to “Ooh La La.”

READ MORE

No Stupid Smartphone for This Dad 2.0

Today, with a little luck, I am on my way to Austin for the Dad 2.0 Summit, a.k.a. Paternity Party 2012.

Given my usual luck traveling in or out of Texas, though, I’m most likely stranded at the Chili’s Too in Terminal C at DFW International Airport, reduced to selling my “wares” for Shiner Bocks and Southwestern Eggrolls to survive the long, dull Lone Star nights.

That might not be a bad thing. I’m a little nervous about whether I can really hang with daddy-type dudes for three days.

What worries me?

In Which I Blow and Suck

Never learning to play an instrument with any proficiency is one of my greatest regrets in life. Now it is yours, too!

I’m ahead of myself. First, a little on my musical background beyond my well-known mad percussion skillz.

I sang in a band in high school for about six months.

Our repertoire consisted of a few ‘80s Who songs, a crappy number by prog-rock supergroup Asia, “Rock This Town” by the Stray Cats, the Van Halenized version of “Oh! Pretty Woman” and “Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran. (We briefly brought in a female classmate to stand next to me and do the moaning at the end of “Wolf.” Absolute closest I came in high school to losing my virginity.)

We went through guitarists like Spinal Tap went through drummers, just without the bizarre gardening accidents. Shortly after we finally found one who was really good (that would be him on the left in this video playing with ‘00s Top 40 alt-rock band Splender), they realized they needed a singer with a vocal range exceeding four and a half notes.

In college, I taught myself to play some basic blues harmonica riffs so I could jam with my roommate, a nine-and-a-half finger guitarist, while we drank too much Keystone on Thursday nights. You can image how that went.

I took piano for a few months in my 20s through an adult education class. I was at the top of the class. Sound impressive until you learn my competition was all grandmothers. With arthritis. And periodic gout.

I took bass guitar lessons for about nine months from one of Bob Dylan’s first electric sidemen. Result, I can play bass guitar like I’m wringing a neck. Not confirmed but I may have been the student who drove him to move to Israel.

So when Neil of Citizen of the Month asked me last year if I would contribute something to his next Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert, a joyous annual post of bloggers singing and playing their eggnogged noggins off, I immediately said yes. Never let it be said that I let my lack of talent stand in my way.

Below you will find my solo musical debut, but I encourage you to visit Neil’s site and enjoy the entire Sixth Annual Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert. It’s a blast:

My Love’s unvarnished reaction when I finally showed her this yesterday: “So is this why the ladder was in the living room last week?”

Get the whole "Always Home and Uncool" experience: visit the website, follow on Twitter and like on Facebook .

Naked Again

How desperate are people for me to get rid of this growth on my face?

The folks at Philips Norelco not only sent me, free of charge, their Vacuum Stubble and Beard Trimmer Pro but also their super high-end SensoTouch 3D Electric Razor.

Then they forked over $15,000 to the cause our band of Movember Dads has been growing these goofy things for.

All I had to do is use them … and let the world watch me as I did:

Ahhhh. Smoooooth.

Thing 2 has already said he’ll let me kiss him again since I’m not so “prickly.”

Thing 1 was too busy texting to comment. Once the cell phone battery dies, I’m sure she’ll look up and say something. Maybe even something nice.

My Love … well, she says she likes me better clean shaven but I think secretly she dug the ‘stache. Let her pretend she was snoring next some strange other man every night.

Well … strange, definitely.

# # #

If you want to be smooth like me, I can hook you up with a special holiday rebate on the SensoTouch. Just click that link in the previous sentence.

The FTC Full Monty: Philips Norelco and its PR firm, Zocalo Group, sent me the razor and trimmer for free. No charge whatsoever. I used them, filmed it and wrote about it solely for the money ­- a $15,000 donation to our team raising money to fight prostate cancer. For that, my fellow "bros in mos" and I are incredibly grateful. Nonetheless, the opinions and typos contained in this post remain mine and mine alone.

Technorati Tags: Movember

Come on Over, It's Thanksgiving Day

You’re always welcome here, friends. Except spammers. No one wants spam on Thanksgiving.

Cheers … and pass the gravy.

Are you going on Thanksgiving Day
To those family celebrations?
Passing on knowledge down through the years
At the gathering of generations

Every year it's the same routine
All over, all over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day

Papa looks over at the small gathering
Remembering days gone by
Smiles at the children as he watches them play

And wishes his wife was still by his side
She would always cook dinner on Thanksgiving Day
It's all over, it's all over
It's all over the American way

But sometimes the children are so far away
And in a dark apartment on the wrong side of town
A lonely spinster prays
For a handsome lover and a passionate embrace
And kisses all over, all over
All over her American face

It's all over, it's all over, it's all over

'Cause today she feels so far away
From the friends in her hometown
So she runs for the Greyhound
She'll spend hours on the bus but she'll reach town
For Thanksgiving Day

Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day
Come on over, come on over
Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day

At a truck stop a man sits alone at the bar
Estranged in isolation
It's been a while now and he seems so far
From those distant celebrations

He thinks back to all the mistakes that he made
To a time when he was so young and green
Innocent days when they both looked forward to that
Great American dream

Now it's all over, it's all over, all over
And all over America people are going home
On Thanksgiving Day

Now Papa looks out of the window
The sight brings a smile to his face
He sees all his children coming back home
Together on this special day

Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day
Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day
Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day
Come on over, come on over
Come on over, it's Thanksgiving Day

-- Ray Davies

I’m Still With the Band

I would have loved to been at BlogHer in San Diego today but, you know, I had a gig in the city last night.



Why, since this is my second time being plucked out of the audience to perform with the legendary Fountains of Wayne, do I look so determined and serious?

1. I had about 5 fewer Sierra Nevada Pale Ales under my belt this time.
2. I was trying hard to resist singing along since I know My Love was close enough to capture my vocal stylings or lack there of.
3. I’m trying very hard not to pay attention to what the woman in the skimpy outfit on my right has going on. Trying. Very. VERY. HARD.

I must have looked terrified coming off stage. The guy working security offered me and no one else a bottle of Poland Springs from the band’s private stash.

Which I took and finished.

I plan to convert it into my own FoW shaker for next time …

UPDATED: I stumbled upon this online recently. Famed rock critic Robert Christgau was at this show and I have the distinction of having my performance reviewed by him:

"Unbeknownst to their doubters, Fountains of Wayne write real love songs, too. On one of the perkiest, "Hey Julie," Schlesinger rounded up four audience members to play percussion, three of them women - the boy-girl ratio in FOW's audience is better than most. Rhythmically, let's say the four held their own. But what was more impressive is that without mikes they sang along as loud as they could. They sang along about the creep with the bad toupee who orders the narrator around all day. And they sang along about how Julie helps him make it through. No satire whatsoever, I swear.
-- MSN Music, August 13, 2011"


When I play with them on Letterman, naturally.

They Called the Band ‘Poison’ for a Reason

Remember your parents always complaining about how the music you listened to wasn’t as good as the stuff they did the boogaloo to when they were kids?

Well, guess what? Now you’re the parent. Time to learn from some of your youthful foolishness and make better decisions when sharing your tunes with the wee ones.

Here’s the start of what I wrote yesterday on DadCentric.com on the subject …

HELP SAVE THE YOUTH OF AMERICA
FROM HAIR METAL BALLADS!

I "get" the concept of Kidz Bop.

Take the pop hits of the day. Sift the bump-and-grind rhythms  through a Size 45 Lawrence Welk cone filter. Scrub in some Ajax to remove any hint of naughtiness from the lyrics ("brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack" in Tik Tok by skank dance queen Ke$ha becomes "brush my teeth and then I go and pack" ... yet it still leaves a scummy film on my skin after listening.) Finally, let a Holiday Inn warbler share the lead vocals with some truly average sounding children who fill in the chorus and harmonies with their screeches.

Bland as instant oatmeal but, geez, it beats that Satanic turdgrinder Raffi. His music has been known to wake coma patients just long enough so they can unplug themselves.

Now, the whole Hair Metal scene back in the '80s -- that I never understood …

Read more …

Selling Body and Soul This Halloween

Let’s take a partial break in my series of celebrity-sighting posts for some timely seasonal messages regarding Halloween.

I say “partial” because the first involves Jill Sobule, the singer/songwriter who wrote and performed the first “I Kissed a Girl” hit song back in the mid-1990s. She was the opening act for – ahem – me and Fountains of Wayne early this month and, because I exude some rare hormone that facilitates offbeat encounters with people of cult status or notorious nature, I ended up talking with her after the show … and owing her money. But that’s a story for later.  

Here’s Jill, in a performance from that night, discussing a Halloween trend that is especially disturbing for we parents of young girls:

Video: The Halloween Song by Jill Sobule

* * *

Since this time of year the odds of you coming face-to-face with The Devil go up exponentially, with Election Day looming nearby and all, I thought I’d present to you the one and only episode from the second incarnation of Twilight Zone that I remember anything about.

It’s eight completely entertaining minutes of how to beat Satan at his own game, featuring Sherman “George Jefferson” Hemsley (who unfortunately never yells “Weezie!” during it) and Ron Glass from Barney Miller sporting Lionel Richie’s hair and some real bad-ass designer jeans. Enjoy and go easy on the Fun-Size candy.

Video: I of Newton, The Twilight Zone, 1985

Technorati Tags: Halloween,music,television,entertainment,costumes

I’m With the Band. Really.

“You need to have a little rhythm for this. I don’t know,” Adam said skeptically as he searched for second opinions and options with superior cleavage. “Does this guy look like has some rhythm?”

I nodded enthusiastically. Probably spastically. I undid a couple of buttons on my polo for good measure.

“OK,” he said, reluctantly pointing at me. “Go around there.”

Around I went. Up I climbed. There I stood.

Alone.

My lower legs suddenly became shakier than an election year promise.

“Here, you get to play this,” someone said.

The lights didn’t blind so much as they disoriented. Or maybe that was just the first Sierra Nevada kicking in.

At my feet stood My Love, smiling up in the second row. Or maybe that was just the third Sierra Nevada kicking in.

I’m in a movie in which the film had been flipped over on the reels. Left was right and right was left. My world had been inverted.

There may have been a count in.

1 … 2 … 1-

Back when this blog was in its infancy, I made a confession to the 16 of you who read it about my most secret desire.

2-

Since I know most of you won’t click that link (though you might now because you feel guilty), I’ll repeat what I said back in June 2008:

3-

“I have a new goal in life. Just once, in concert, I'd like to show off my rhythm egg skills on this song with the Fountains of Wayne folk. No harmonies will be attempted, just some shake 'n' bake. Trust me, I've got the wrist action down.”

4-

Friends, on Oct. 7, 2010, at the Bowery Ballroom in New York City, I didn’t succeed.

First off, I played maraca, not rhythm egg.

Second, I sang harmony.

Loudly.

Luckily for the audience, I’m certain our microphone had been turned off or waaaaaaaaaay down.

But aside from that, I think I pretty much nailed it.

(Look at the 0:40 second mark. I take a quick glance to my right and in a split second I realize: Mother Fletcher. I’m on STAGE! With FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE! Good Clapton -- this woman on the tambourine has less musical talent than Linda McCartney! This guy on my left is stiffer than George Michael in public restroom! TURN IT UP, UNCOOL! UP TO 11!)

Video: Hey Julie by Fountains of Wayne (Bowery Ballroom, NYC, Oct. 7, 2010)

After the concert, fame followed me. Down to the basement.

“Hey, you were on stage!” said the man behind the man behind another man behind 15 other men waiting to empty their beer-bulging bladders.

Another man behind him, who had six others behind him, agreed. “Yeah, you were on stage!”

“That I was,” I said. “Now, could I cut in front you guys?”

“No!”

Next time, I’ll add “cutsies” into my contract rider.

* * *

My eternal thanks to icm65, whomever you are, for taking and posting this video; and to David McTiernan – college student by day, rockin’ keyboardist by night -- who graciously took these photos upon request when my camera battery died and My Love was too under the influence to operate her iPhone camera.

Technorati Tags: music

Love; Pass It On

Because the monsoon sweeping down as I type is carrying away the grass seed I put down for the 12th time in a month.

Because when the sun rises, and with it -- me, much of autumn’s bursting brilliance will have become soggy blanket of Crayola puke upon my muddy yard.

Speaking of expulsing bodily fluids, because no sooner did I step out of a New York City parking garage this week then did I step smack into a steaming pile.

Because that last bit compelled me, friend to all things canine – even those with the squirts, to give the stink eye to every dog and dog owner I passed in the next hour.

Because when I finally found a public bathroom, they were out of toilet paper.

Because while waiting to learn this, the thick-accented South American woman queued in front of me answered her cell then burst into tears because her sister really did have cancer, and I couldn’t do anything except hope my reeking shoe didn’t make this even worse for her.

Because my blog reader and Twitter feed has been filled with death, divorce, disease, despair and destruction of late. This may have drove my favorite escape, our TiVo, to finally off itself permanently Wednesday at the tender age of 6, taking with it my favorite two episodes of Ed.

Because Thing 1 is again struggling with her reading and resisting all my efforts to help her.

Because the doctor told me my total cholesterol and bad cholesterol are both over the limit. Dearest cheese, I’ll shall always think back fondly on the many tasty moments of crumbly delight we shared.

But finally because the keyboardist in this band did me a real solid last week (more on that later) and this is just the kind of infectious hook those of you bruised and battered by the past week could use right about now.

So, crank it!

And yes, you may interpret that as need be.

Video: Love; Pass It On by The Middle Eight

* * *

Finally, a special thanks to Elise of Everyday Goddess for making me a “Post of the Week” earlier this month.

Do Me a Solid Sunday: ‘Do Fun Stuff’ for Littlest Buddy

Children with a rare disease received three great gifts this month.

Money to research the cause, treatment and cure of their condition.

Broader awareness of their plight.

And hope.

No, I’m not talking – for once – about kids like Thing 1 with juvenile myositis or the $250,000 Pepsi Refresh grant people like you helped Cure JM win (I’ve thanked you for your help, right? Yes? Heck, thanks again!).

Today I’m talking about Smith Magenis Syndrome (SMS), a rare chromosomal disorder that can cause a host of physical and development issues. One child who has this is Littlest Buddy, son of Ryan from  Pacing the Panic Room.

Earlier this year, I told you about Ryan’s effort to create an album of children’s music to benefit a charity that supports SMS.

Well, the guy done and did it.

Big time.

On its August 30th release, Do Fun Stuff, a “kids' album for adults,” charted higher than Kidz Belch Bop Vol. 13,287.

Higher than the soundtrack of Ramp Cock Camp Rock 2.

Higher than Yo Frickin’ Gabba Gabba!

Folks – it debuted No. 1. Look:

You can read how he did it in this article he wrote for Fast Company.

The album has been bouncing around the Top 20 in the weeks since, still no small feat. (I almost said “Little Feat” and linked to one of their videos. Oops. Guess I did.)

So let’s all help him keep it there.

If you haven’t already, go buy Do Fun Stuff on iTunes (all the proceeds go to the PRISMS charity). If you don’t have kids, give it to someone who does. They’ll appreciate how greatly you’ve upgraded their ear-splitting collection of Barney and Raffi tunes.

If you can’t spare the $9.99, write about it on your blog or send a link to this post to someone else who might be able to help.

That’s all. Now, say “so long,” Littlest Buddy.

Video: ”Nothing,” Steve Foxbury, from the Do Fun Stuff album

Technorati Tags: music,itunes,children,charity

(All images courtesy of Ryan’s blog.)

Avenging “Revenge – The Musical!”

Only hours after I take schools to task for putting parents through endlessly lame band concerts, plays and choir shows and I have already found salvation!

First graders belting out a reworked version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody"!

Followed up with a rendition of The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go” that would make Joe Strummer sit up in his grave and say, “Wot? That’s a rocker, mate!”

See and hear it all over at “The Greatest First Grade Program of All Time” on The Blog o’ Cheese. (The link now works. Sorry!)

The only thing it’s missing? Muppets:

The Muppets: Boheminan Rhapsody

Kudos to Cheeseboy for teaching his students some awesome tunes and to my blogger bud Everyday Goddess to pointing it out to me.

Furry Vengeance!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I promised you a post about my brush with the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. Ain't happening today.

Why?

Murphy woke up at 3 a.m. violently shaking his head like a bobblehead doll in an earthquake. My Love guessed it was an allergy-related ear infection, gave the poor dog a Claritin and stuffed her head back under the pillow.

I slept through it all.

My brain must have automatically shut itself down to rest up after deducing that my waking day would be spent leaving a trail of cotton balls and tea tree oil around the house as I tried to corner a veterinarian-hating, 75-pound Labrador retriever whipping his long floppies from side to side like a hula dancer on crystal meth.

Or maybe I knowingly ignored all the wee-hour commotion. Maybe I was exacting revenge for the countless early mornings past on which I answered someone's needy barks to go outside. And for the six months spent picking up someone's parasite-laced intestinal explosions around the yard. And all the many power-washings and disinfections needed to remove unplanned detonations from someone's kennel, an activity done while I repeatedly muttered "crap in a wrap, what died up inside you, dog!" and wondered if certain student loans really, truly needed to be repaid given this unpaid, full-time job they had netted me.

Nah.

Must have just been my subconscious just trying to help stockpile needed energy. My brain is a far more complex beast than I am.


Video:"All Men are Liars," Nick Lowe

Miracle at the Mets Game

I mean, aside from them winning on Opening Day Monday afternoon.

Read all about a very special family moment I witnessed at Citi Field in my post "Score!" over at DadCentric today.

Or just stay here and enjoy this tuneful montage of photos from Uncool Family outings to Opening Day from 2000 to 2010.

Or do both. You're good enough, you're smart enough and, doggone it, I like you!


Video -- Uncool Opening Days: 2000 to 2010

No more baseball talk next week. Unless, by another miracle, the Mets are still undefeated by then.

UPDATE: The Mets, down 6-1 last night, rallied to tie it 6-6 ... only to blow it in extra innings. You're all spared.

Mama, Don’t Let You Daughters Grow Up to Join a Knack Cover Band

No one obviously bothered to explain to these kids’ parents the irony of Japanese school girls singing an ode to male teenage hormonal lust.

Never gonna stop, give it up.
Such a dirty mind.
Always get it up for the touch
of the younger kind.

Video: “My Sharona," unnamed Japanese school girls

My my my i yi woo, indeed.

For more tales of the young ‘uns and their dag-gum devil music (no, worse – Lady Gaga), please head on over to my post today on DadCentric titled “When Your Girl Goes Gaga.”