Well, hello there! Brother Roame on the 'net! Hope you like our little corner of the WWW. You've already met my partners in crime, Axis and Ozone. Allow myself to introduce .. myself. I'm Roame. Yes, I know it's misspelled. It's a take on my Italian heritage and the wanderlust in me. Get it, Rome, Italy..roam around the world..anyone..anyone..Bueller..Bueller. OK, not particularly clever but clever enough. I'm also half Viking and do tend to go a little berserk at times. Don't take it personally - or do. Some of my rants, especially about politicians and the like, are meant to be taken personally by the subjects of the aforementioned rant. I enjoy beer, music, beer, traveling with my wife, beer, animals and beer. Not necessarily in that order. I'll wax political on you, philosophical, astronomical, economical, mitochondrial. Step to me and I can get diabolical. Don't make me have to wet ya, cause I got a list for that and it's hysterical.(Really, it's on the blog..take a look) Anywho..just wanted to say hello and I'm looking forward to letting you all know just what I think of you. I'm kidding, I'm a kidder, I kid. I think we're going to have lots of fun and who knows, we may just solve some of life's problems along the way. Who am I kidding, I'm just looking to get famous. OOO ... maybe a writing gig. Saturday Night Live, David Letterman, Hallmark ... the possibilities are endless. See you around the Blog.
Roame, out.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Online with the Beer Stein
Brother Ozone typing here (I'm walking heah! -- Midnight Cowboy), and it's a touching thing, reading the name Ozone in Axis' introduction, realizing that once again - The Members of the Rank and File are up and running, and I'm One! (P. Townshend).
Roame and Axis knew each other in high school. Fresh-faced deviants. Mennonites wept in their wake, hatless and terrified. I didn't come along until later. I was 25 and they were 23 by the time we met. By Nov. 1992, we all ended up living in the Blue House (Queen Jane, too. You'll meet her later). My life hasn't been the same since. These guys wear me out. Always with the yapping. The mouths, the talking. I don't know how I get roped into these things. Now I have to "blog." A word of advice, never hang out with "artsy types." Or "Seekers." Or "Idealists." Especially ones that love to drink. It's a recipe for disaster.
Roame and Axis knew each other in high school. Fresh-faced deviants. Mennonites wept in their wake, hatless and terrified. I didn't come along until later. I was 25 and they were 23 by the time we met. By Nov. 1992, we all ended up living in the Blue House (Queen Jane, too. You'll meet her later). My life hasn't been the same since. These guys wear me out. Always with the yapping. The mouths, the talking. I don't know how I get roped into these things. Now I have to "blog." A word of advice, never hang out with "artsy types." Or "Seekers." Or "Idealists." Especially ones that love to drink. It's a recipe for disaster.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Welcome to the Wet List: A-Hole #1
The inaugural member of the web based Wet List is none other than rabid, right wing, maniac Michael Reagan. Michael has received this distinction after his venomous "Happy Birthday baby... bye-bye" rant on his radio show.
If you have the stomach for it, you can check it out @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ntz7SWm-xWo.
One question that comes to mind is, how does this head case still even have a show? To my knowledge, this vile commentary received only a mere mention or two from mainstream media outlets. Am I to assume that this is viewpoint is shared by the majority of Americans?
I sure as hell hope not...
-A
If you have the stomach for it, you can check it out @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ntz7SWm-xWo.
One question that comes to mind is, how does this head case still even have a show? To my knowledge, this vile commentary received only a mere mention or two from mainstream media outlets. Am I to assume that this is viewpoint is shared by the majority of Americans?
I sure as hell hope not...
-A
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
"The Politics of Fear"
When I first saw Barry Blitt's illustration of Michelle and Barack Obama I was outraged. My first reaction was to immediately forward this crude depiction to family and friends. The issue hit the stands this week and although I think I have a better grasp of where the magazine was trying to go with the idea, I still believe they may have missed the mark.
In my view the apparent attempt to lampoon the absurd nature of the baseless attacks that have been heaped upon the Obamas, will be lost on many of those who this cartoon had perhaps been intended to reach. My concern is that this will instead only stand to validate the false images that already exist in some people's hearts and minds. A predictable number of voters are simply perennial partisan participants divided neatly along party lines and permanently affixed to either end of the political spectrum. However, there are a fairly sizeable number of Americans who may be "in play" this fall. A notable segment of these voters seem to possess what they perceive in their own minds to be legitmate fears about Senator Obama. Right or wrong that is their reality. Our country was scared shitless in September 2001. Those events rocked our core, and in the processs left a slew of our fellow citizens unable to fully recover. They appear to exist in a perpetual, and perhaps permanent, state of paranoia. They may never even pick up this issue of the New Yorker and examine its contents but, the image of Barack in the turban, Michelle with the assault rifle, the "terrorist fist bump", the flag in the fireplace and Bin Laden presiding over it all has been burned into their brains. There's no telling what effect this sort of material may have on some consituents but, from my vantage point it doesn't seem as though a whole lot of good can come if it.
The other night I somehow ended up engaging in a bit of political discourse with a tow truck driver who'd come to assist me. (Albeit reluctantly, and only after he'd retrieved the keys from my car.) He's an average fella who watches the news before bed, reads the local paper in the morning and clearly considers himself to be a concerned and informed citizen. I'll give him the concerned part... Now, I'm not totally cracking on the guy because he certainly didn't try and come off as a "know it all" who had all the answers, nor did he seem to be particular interested in promoting mistruths about either party. But, halfway through the conversation he defiantly exclaims that "Obama wants to take all of the guns away!" Wait, what???? When the hell did he say that?? Did he really say that??? And so it goes...
By placing this illustration front and center on the cover, the New Yorker succeeded in making quite a splash and generating an incredible amount of publicity for themselves. In its own way, the artwork is actually pretty clever and makes quite a statement. But, in my opinion because of the distasteful nature of this cartoon, the true meaning seems to have all but vanished and has left the magazine in a negative light.
-A
In my view the apparent attempt to lampoon the absurd nature of the baseless attacks that have been heaped upon the Obamas, will be lost on many of those who this cartoon had perhaps been intended to reach. My concern is that this will instead only stand to validate the false images that already exist in some people's hearts and minds. A predictable number of voters are simply perennial partisan participants divided neatly along party lines and permanently affixed to either end of the political spectrum. However, there are a fairly sizeable number of Americans who may be "in play" this fall. A notable segment of these voters seem to possess what they perceive in their own minds to be legitmate fears about Senator Obama. Right or wrong that is their reality. Our country was scared shitless in September 2001. Those events rocked our core, and in the processs left a slew of our fellow citizens unable to fully recover. They appear to exist in a perpetual, and perhaps permanent, state of paranoia. They may never even pick up this issue of the New Yorker and examine its contents but, the image of Barack in the turban, Michelle with the assault rifle, the "terrorist fist bump", the flag in the fireplace and Bin Laden presiding over it all has been burned into their brains. There's no telling what effect this sort of material may have on some consituents but, from my vantage point it doesn't seem as though a whole lot of good can come if it.
The other night I somehow ended up engaging in a bit of political discourse with a tow truck driver who'd come to assist me. (Albeit reluctantly, and only after he'd retrieved the keys from my car.) He's an average fella who watches the news before bed, reads the local paper in the morning and clearly considers himself to be a concerned and informed citizen. I'll give him the concerned part... Now, I'm not totally cracking on the guy because he certainly didn't try and come off as a "know it all" who had all the answers, nor did he seem to be particular interested in promoting mistruths about either party. But, halfway through the conversation he defiantly exclaims that "Obama wants to take all of the guns away!" Wait, what???? When the hell did he say that?? Did he really say that??? And so it goes...
By placing this illustration front and center on the cover, the New Yorker succeeded in making quite a splash and generating an incredible amount of publicity for themselves. In its own way, the artwork is actually pretty clever and makes quite a statement. But, in my opinion because of the distasteful nature of this cartoon, the true meaning seems to have all but vanished and has left the magazine in a negative light.
-A
MRF Trivia
Q: Who was the official Lightning player of the blue house?
A: Bob BEERS
But of course!!
Have I mentioned lately that the Cup is coming home to Hockey Bay?
-A
A: Bob BEERS
But of course!!
Have I mentioned lately that the Cup is coming home to Hockey Bay?
-A
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Favre to Tampa??
Dear Jeff,
Thanks for your help in saving my job last season. Now don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Love,
Coach
Are they really going to do this deal?? Who are we going to give up?
-A
Thanks for your help in saving my job last season. Now don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Love,
Coach
Are they really going to do this deal?? Who are we going to give up?
-A
Monday, July 7, 2008
Greetings earthlings!
Dateline: "Independence" Day weekend 2008
-Hello and welcome to our blog spot, MRF Tampa. I've included a brief history of MRF for you to peruse if you are so inclined. If not, feel free to show yourself around the blog and contribute wherever you'd like. DISCLAIMER: keep in mind some of the content that may appear on this site may be construed as offensive by some. If you are easily offended, this may not be the place for you. The intention is simply to encourage an uncensored exchange of ideas and opinions but, please use good judgement when posting.
Axis' perspective:
The concept originated when we were living in our little blue bungalow in Tampa wayyy back in the day. There was always something happening at the Blue House. Not only was this house the site of some of the most raucous party scenes that South Tampa has ever known but, it was our laboratory for creative expression. Ozone, an avid reader, began to focus on writing short stories and poetry. Nanook, also very well read (and the only member of our gang of four that didn't live here in the Cigar City) would send us his contributions from afar. And Roame and I had our own White Stripes thing happening and assumed the role of house band. Drums, vocals and lots of guitar. We weren't playing with a bass player so I proceeded to fill up the space with a robust amount of bottom end EQ, distortion, and plenty of good ol' fashioned volume! We named our 2 man unit, the Members of the Rank and File after a saying my mom used when she would wake us up for school. (This reference to the working class replaced her preferred method of choice, the "torture test", aka tickling the bejesus out of us until we writhed and wiggled the hell out of bed!) The band name probably would have been a little long for a record company's taste but, considering we had exactly 0 gigs booked, we went with it.
We were inspired by what U2 had been doing at the time with Achtung Baby & the subsequent Zoo TV Tour in response to CNN's wall to wall coverage of the 1st Gulf War. The information age was indeed upon us and we were wide eyed as could be. At some point we hatched the idea of writing and producing our own television show. We bolted down to our local Access station with high hopes but ran right into the buzz saw of all that is wrong with Public Access television. The place was crawling with soft porn producing knuckle draggers, pin heads adorned in pig hats, and two bit, dime store Evangelicals. Talk about a waste of what could have been an excellent medium for free speech. Be that as it may, Roame and I found the production aspect of TV to be quite interesting and exciting but, clearly the life had been zapped out of our initial idea. The clincher came one night when instead of going down to the studio to work on a show, we watched it from a friend's couch with full glasses of bourbon. That is until the spirit moved Ozone to pick up the phone and call the talking head live on the set. After hearing the magical words, "hello, you are on the air", he proceeded launch a "why don't you have another donut you %@# $%#" blast upon the unsuspecting host! A second later his words were echoing through the television speakers clear as could be. Signal transmitted... message received. No 7 second delay there! We were howling, rolling and convulsing like a couple of neanderthal shit asses. The host's face reddened with embarrassment and seemed to melt away right onto his lap. This was no small feat considering the amount of make up this dude applied. He looked like he'd escaped from a freaking wax museum or something. I don't even know how his mouth even managed to move but, I digress. Ozone was done at the station... So, we modified our plan to produce our own mock radio show and our characters came to be. A variety of stimuli influenced the selection of my "character's" name. Music was very much at the "axis" of everything we were doing and when Ozone turned me on to the classic Jimi Hendrix album Axis, Bold As Love, the deal was sealed. Although I had certainly enjoyed Jimi before, it wasn't until Ozone turned me on to this masterwork that I truly heard Hendrix and from that point forward I experienced the music on a whole other level. To say it is an amazing piece of art doesn't do it justice and I remember feeling as though a portal to the great beyond had been opened.
As for the show, we taped several "episodes". Each show would begin with Zoo Station (except the one installment we did without Roame, which we kicked off with Peace Frog) and would segue into our own individual blocks of time featuring whatever we'd worked up that week. After our individual "shmegments" it was time for the our "Wet List", which was basically for people who, in our opinion, sucked for some reason! If you were past the point of being mildly irritating, annoying or were otherwise full of shit in our eyes, you ended up on the Wet List. As an added goof, we played Ice Cube's Now I Gotta Wet'cha as we read the list of offenders aloud each week. (And NO of course we don't condone people shooting each other with assault rifles. It was just funny as hell to us at the time.) The rest of the show we'd just riff on whatever was relevant in news, weather and sports. Rumor has it that one of our show tapes actually found its way to the nappy headed host himself... Don Imus, who gave it an enthusiastic "not bad"!
Before long our experiment at the Blue House ended and off we went in search of something new. Roame moved up to his home state of MI for a time to pursue a degree on broadcasting. Nanook of the North became Nanook of the Redwoods around this time after his migration to California. Ozone and I moved into another house in South Tampa to continue the experiment and the party! In typical Blue House fashion, we played as much music as the neighborhood could stand, went to as many shows as possible, read, wrote, and reveled on roof tops until sun up. Roame returned to Tampa shortly before we split from the "Vasconia Mansion" and we all headed down different paths for awhile. Ozone was writing, publishing a magazine and had returned to the stage where he was acting in a local theater company. Roame took a permanent seat behind the drums in one of Tampa's hardest working rock n' roll bands and proceeded to play his ass off for the next several years. Nanook, continued his worldly explorations and has seen some of the most beautiful vistas known to man. Strangely enough, no matter where he was, he always seemed to (and still does to this day) materialize at concert venues across the land to join us for some monumental shows.
I was on a road trip to see Bobby Weir and Rat Dog in New Orleans, LA one year when my good friend, "the Brew Master" asked me to come by and jam with the new band he was in. On that trip, and unbeknown st to them, he and his wife sold me on the idea that perhaps I should consider playing music somewhere else other than at home, in my room, for nobody. The rehearsals went well and before I knew it I was in Gecko X-ing. I had no earthly idea how in the hell I was going to conquer the wicked case of stage fright that I'd been unable to shake for some time & I felt as if I had the proverbial 500 lb. gorilla on my back. In hindisght, I suppose the fact that we incorporated longer jams into our sets helped and I was able to settle myself down between verses and eventually settled into the sound of the band. It was also a plus that my band mates were good musicians; they gave me confidence & somehow I got through. We really weren't around all that long but, it was a wonderful experience & it's always great when we're able to hook up and enjoy the odd beer together.
I spent some time playing around the Bay Area a bit and continued to work on trying to get better on a lot of levels. I've always had kind of a love/hate relationship with playing live. If you're able to relax and reach the place where the music flows naturally there's no better feeling for a musician. On the other hand, there are a whole host of things that go into producing even the simplest of shows so it can be a challenge to get into "the zone". And even now I can get pretty nerved up before gigs. Regardless, Deep Elum was my next serious project and it was a departure from the jam band scene. This was straight ahead roots rock featuring 3 part harmonies, acoustic guitars and my new found friend, the harmonica. As someone who holds Bob Dylan in the highest regard, the last thing I ever thought about doing was strapping a damn harmonica around my neck while playing acoustic. My grandfather bought me a harmonica when I was a boy. (A "Marine Band" harp in the Key of C. I play "Lee Oskar" harmonicas exclusively. Except the Key of C harp which will always be a "Marine Band".) I hadn't even seen one in years. I'm not at all sure when I started but, I remember just trying to add another element to what we were doing. We had a good time in this group, got along well and and played regularly until we called it quits a few years back. As that group came to a close it was time for yet another period of transition and life changes.
For some time, I lived with the notion that I had may have played my last gig. I was in a very different place and committing any energy toward a new project was inconceivable. Big changes take time and require baby steps. The two things that I am most fortunate to have however, is great family and great friends. In fact, for me I have a family and an extended family really. I'm grateful for that every day. Ozone, Nanook, Roame and I have never been tighter and have evolved considerably (except for our inexplicable fascination with the apprehension of orange construction cones).
Low and behold as the dust settled a bit, the old creative spirit seemed to rear its head once again. Roame and I once again play together in Punch Drunk, a band that maintains a very laid back performance schedule. Nevertheless it really is a pleasure to be in this band and we have a big time when we do play. More shows? Who knows? Last year I started booking gigs and playing solo as the Brother Axis Acoustic Revue. Like MRF, its not exactly a catchy kind of name nor does it fit neatly on the marquees of local establishments. So I usually bring my own plastic letters (& safety cones) or bill the event as Axis Acoustic in case your ever in town. Between the band and the solo thing I seem to have found an acceptable balance of being able to play music that I love, along with some of my own material while weaving in some of the popular faves that are a requisite of playing professionally. So far, so good; if people are enjoying themselves, I'm happy.
Now, do you have all that?? Gang's all here, no? It's all good, eh? All's well that ends well, right? Um, well not exactly. There is this little tiny thing... you know, the dangerous freaking times that we find ourselves in. We the living have kids, grand kids, nieces and nephews and it is truly about them now. The path that we are on simply will NOT do. Having spent the better part of a decade working in commercial television, I can tell you that there are indeed many talented journalists out there. But in case you haven't noticed, the "news" that is spoon fed to the American public on a nightly basis is watered down and weak. So we are back to establish our own outpost for free speech right here, right now. Plus one of us has a MRF tattoo, we couldn't let it stay retired.
Despite the fact that the naivete of my younger years has been replaced by an awareness of the stark reality of this time and space, I still try to remain positive. To say that I haven't experienced feelings of disillusionment and disenchantment would be disingenuous. However, a part of me remains hopeful in spite of all the craziness. I'm guessing that was impressed upon me by my family dating back to my earliest years. The love and support that presently exists within my own household further sustains me and is very much the reason for my renewed sense of urgency in doing my part, however small, to affect positive change. You will not find perfection here. I am only offering my perspective and I am interested in yours. I'm going to sign off now and the boys will be along shortly to tell their tales as they see fit. Then the fun starts! Thanks for stopping by and this is our time.
-Hello and welcome to our blog spot, MRF Tampa. I've included a brief history of MRF for you to peruse if you are so inclined. If not, feel free to show yourself around the blog and contribute wherever you'd like. DISCLAIMER: keep in mind some of the content that may appear on this site may be construed as offensive by some. If you are easily offended, this may not be the place for you. The intention is simply to encourage an uncensored exchange of ideas and opinions but, please use good judgement when posting.
Axis' perspective:
The concept originated when we were living in our little blue bungalow in Tampa wayyy back in the day. There was always something happening at the Blue House. Not only was this house the site of some of the most raucous party scenes that South Tampa has ever known but, it was our laboratory for creative expression. Ozone, an avid reader, began to focus on writing short stories and poetry. Nanook, also very well read (and the only member of our gang of four that didn't live here in the Cigar City) would send us his contributions from afar. And Roame and I had our own White Stripes thing happening and assumed the role of house band. Drums, vocals and lots of guitar. We weren't playing with a bass player so I proceeded to fill up the space with a robust amount of bottom end EQ, distortion, and plenty of good ol' fashioned volume! We named our 2 man unit, the Members of the Rank and File after a saying my mom used when she would wake us up for school. (This reference to the working class replaced her preferred method of choice, the "torture test", aka tickling the bejesus out of us until we writhed and wiggled the hell out of bed!) The band name probably would have been a little long for a record company's taste but, considering we had exactly 0 gigs booked, we went with it.
We were inspired by what U2 had been doing at the time with Achtung Baby & the subsequent Zoo TV Tour in response to CNN's wall to wall coverage of the 1st Gulf War. The information age was indeed upon us and we were wide eyed as could be. At some point we hatched the idea of writing and producing our own television show. We bolted down to our local Access station with high hopes but ran right into the buzz saw of all that is wrong with Public Access television. The place was crawling with soft porn producing knuckle draggers, pin heads adorned in pig hats, and two bit, dime store Evangelicals. Talk about a waste of what could have been an excellent medium for free speech. Be that as it may, Roame and I found the production aspect of TV to be quite interesting and exciting but, clearly the life had been zapped out of our initial idea. The clincher came one night when instead of going down to the studio to work on a show, we watched it from a friend's couch with full glasses of bourbon. That is until the spirit moved Ozone to pick up the phone and call the talking head live on the set. After hearing the magical words, "hello, you are on the air", he proceeded launch a "why don't you have another donut you %@# $%#" blast upon the unsuspecting host! A second later his words were echoing through the television speakers clear as could be. Signal transmitted... message received. No 7 second delay there! We were howling, rolling and convulsing like a couple of neanderthal shit asses. The host's face reddened with embarrassment and seemed to melt away right onto his lap. This was no small feat considering the amount of make up this dude applied. He looked like he'd escaped from a freaking wax museum or something. I don't even know how his mouth even managed to move but, I digress. Ozone was done at the station... So, we modified our plan to produce our own mock radio show and our characters came to be. A variety of stimuli influenced the selection of my "character's" name. Music was very much at the "axis" of everything we were doing and when Ozone turned me on to the classic Jimi Hendrix album Axis, Bold As Love, the deal was sealed. Although I had certainly enjoyed Jimi before, it wasn't until Ozone turned me on to this masterwork that I truly heard Hendrix and from that point forward I experienced the music on a whole other level. To say it is an amazing piece of art doesn't do it justice and I remember feeling as though a portal to the great beyond had been opened.
As for the show, we taped several "episodes". Each show would begin with Zoo Station (except the one installment we did without Roame, which we kicked off with Peace Frog) and would segue into our own individual blocks of time featuring whatever we'd worked up that week. After our individual "shmegments" it was time for the our "Wet List", which was basically for people who, in our opinion, sucked for some reason! If you were past the point of being mildly irritating, annoying or were otherwise full of shit in our eyes, you ended up on the Wet List. As an added goof, we played Ice Cube's Now I Gotta Wet'cha as we read the list of offenders aloud each week. (And NO of course we don't condone people shooting each other with assault rifles. It was just funny as hell to us at the time.) The rest of the show we'd just riff on whatever was relevant in news, weather and sports. Rumor has it that one of our show tapes actually found its way to the nappy headed host himself... Don Imus, who gave it an enthusiastic "not bad"!
Before long our experiment at the Blue House ended and off we went in search of something new. Roame moved up to his home state of MI for a time to pursue a degree on broadcasting. Nanook of the North became Nanook of the Redwoods around this time after his migration to California. Ozone and I moved into another house in South Tampa to continue the experiment and the party! In typical Blue House fashion, we played as much music as the neighborhood could stand, went to as many shows as possible, read, wrote, and reveled on roof tops until sun up. Roame returned to Tampa shortly before we split from the "Vasconia Mansion" and we all headed down different paths for awhile. Ozone was writing, publishing a magazine and had returned to the stage where he was acting in a local theater company. Roame took a permanent seat behind the drums in one of Tampa's hardest working rock n' roll bands and proceeded to play his ass off for the next several years. Nanook, continued his worldly explorations and has seen some of the most beautiful vistas known to man. Strangely enough, no matter where he was, he always seemed to (and still does to this day) materialize at concert venues across the land to join us for some monumental shows.
I was on a road trip to see Bobby Weir and Rat Dog in New Orleans, LA one year when my good friend, "the Brew Master" asked me to come by and jam with the new band he was in. On that trip, and unbeknown st to them, he and his wife sold me on the idea that perhaps I should consider playing music somewhere else other than at home, in my room, for nobody. The rehearsals went well and before I knew it I was in Gecko X-ing. I had no earthly idea how in the hell I was going to conquer the wicked case of stage fright that I'd been unable to shake for some time & I felt as if I had the proverbial 500 lb. gorilla on my back. In hindisght, I suppose the fact that we incorporated longer jams into our sets helped and I was able to settle myself down between verses and eventually settled into the sound of the band. It was also a plus that my band mates were good musicians; they gave me confidence & somehow I got through. We really weren't around all that long but, it was a wonderful experience & it's always great when we're able to hook up and enjoy the odd beer together.
I spent some time playing around the Bay Area a bit and continued to work on trying to get better on a lot of levels. I've always had kind of a love/hate relationship with playing live. If you're able to relax and reach the place where the music flows naturally there's no better feeling for a musician. On the other hand, there are a whole host of things that go into producing even the simplest of shows so it can be a challenge to get into "the zone". And even now I can get pretty nerved up before gigs. Regardless, Deep Elum was my next serious project and it was a departure from the jam band scene. This was straight ahead roots rock featuring 3 part harmonies, acoustic guitars and my new found friend, the harmonica. As someone who holds Bob Dylan in the highest regard, the last thing I ever thought about doing was strapping a damn harmonica around my neck while playing acoustic. My grandfather bought me a harmonica when I was a boy. (A "Marine Band" harp in the Key of C. I play "Lee Oskar" harmonicas exclusively. Except the Key of C harp which will always be a "Marine Band".) I hadn't even seen one in years. I'm not at all sure when I started but, I remember just trying to add another element to what we were doing. We had a good time in this group, got along well and and played regularly until we called it quits a few years back. As that group came to a close it was time for yet another period of transition and life changes.
For some time, I lived with the notion that I had may have played my last gig. I was in a very different place and committing any energy toward a new project was inconceivable. Big changes take time and require baby steps. The two things that I am most fortunate to have however, is great family and great friends. In fact, for me I have a family and an extended family really. I'm grateful for that every day. Ozone, Nanook, Roame and I have never been tighter and have evolved considerably (except for our inexplicable fascination with the apprehension of orange construction cones).
Low and behold as the dust settled a bit, the old creative spirit seemed to rear its head once again. Roame and I once again play together in Punch Drunk, a band that maintains a very laid back performance schedule. Nevertheless it really is a pleasure to be in this band and we have a big time when we do play. More shows? Who knows? Last year I started booking gigs and playing solo as the Brother Axis Acoustic Revue. Like MRF, its not exactly a catchy kind of name nor does it fit neatly on the marquees of local establishments. So I usually bring my own plastic letters (& safety cones) or bill the event as Axis Acoustic in case your ever in town. Between the band and the solo thing I seem to have found an acceptable balance of being able to play music that I love, along with some of my own material while weaving in some of the popular faves that are a requisite of playing professionally. So far, so good; if people are enjoying themselves, I'm happy.
Now, do you have all that?? Gang's all here, no? It's all good, eh? All's well that ends well, right? Um, well not exactly. There is this little tiny thing... you know, the dangerous freaking times that we find ourselves in. We the living have kids, grand kids, nieces and nephews and it is truly about them now. The path that we are on simply will NOT do. Having spent the better part of a decade working in commercial television, I can tell you that there are indeed many talented journalists out there. But in case you haven't noticed, the "news" that is spoon fed to the American public on a nightly basis is watered down and weak. So we are back to establish our own outpost for free speech right here, right now. Plus one of us has a MRF tattoo, we couldn't let it stay retired.
Despite the fact that the naivete of my younger years has been replaced by an awareness of the stark reality of this time and space, I still try to remain positive. To say that I haven't experienced feelings of disillusionment and disenchantment would be disingenuous. However, a part of me remains hopeful in spite of all the craziness. I'm guessing that was impressed upon me by my family dating back to my earliest years. The love and support that presently exists within my own household further sustains me and is very much the reason for my renewed sense of urgency in doing my part, however small, to affect positive change. You will not find perfection here. I am only offering my perspective and I am interested in yours. I'm going to sign off now and the boys will be along shortly to tell their tales as they see fit. Then the fun starts! Thanks for stopping by and this is our time.
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