Making a commercial in my backyard!!

A friend recommended our backyard for a commercial. It seemed awesome and easy. They've been here since 7am, and it blows my mind how much work goes into 20 seconds of footage.

There's a ton of stuff here - 25 people, trucks, cameras, lights, damn. I need to bust out my guitar and get in the mix. Hahah I kid. Sadly.

The cool thing is that my backyard now has its own agent.

Hey hey I'm a drummer too.

What a great week or so. The music bug is fully back, and I'm working on another song. This one's going to be a keeper instead of just a "let's go through the motions" track.

Of course, the challenge NOW would be, getting the recording UP to "keeper" status. I've discovered, when I screw around and just throw stuff down to get it recorded, I really like THOSE performances better than the ones where i'm trying to really get a finished thing nailed down. Just like anything else - when it's the real deal, you freeze up a little more. It's typical.

But the cool thing is that I can record and record all I want at my home studio, and just goof off and eventually pick the better pieces and go with that. It's fun. I'm still discovering how to use the mic and all the new doodads to their full potential. Not a big thing.

I'm just glad to be back at this stuff. I have a lot of fun when I'm doing this crap. I just don't seem to have the energy I had like 4 years ago. Maybe I'm old. Or maybe I'm lazy. Or maybe I'm old and lazy.

I'm betting it's the latter.

Productive, and I didn't take any Metamucil!

Well well well. Since Wednesday, I've recorded four songs. FOUR! How awesome is that. Three are mine, and one is me trying to recreate a song that I loved as a kid that's simply not available itunes. I hate itunes sometimes. I'm addicted to it, and yet, they refuse to sell stuff that's 30 years old and out of print.

Well okay, that sort of makes sense, but then again damn.

Anyhooze. Four songs! The first one was a goof-off blues thing. I was going for a sleazy strip joint of the 60s kind of vibe. You know the type - in the old tv shows, whenever the P.I. had to go talk to Maxie the hooker with a heart of gold - she worked at these places. I'm talking Ironsides, Mannix, Kojak - really crappy cop shows of the mid-70s. For some reason they assumed that strip joints were stuck in 1964 or something. And that's the vibe I was shooting for. I'll tell you what I discovered. I still suck at harmonica. That's what I discovered.

But who cares. I recorded a damn song. And then another one. And THEN another one. And then yesterday, or maybe the day before, I recorded a great one. THAT was a cover but again, who cares, it's got my creative juices unplugged and flowing again (and THAT's where the Metamucil joke comes in).

I'm happy. I'm getting that junkie twinkle in my eye - the drive that keeps me up until 4 am for no reason other than to Record Shit. It's great. Now, I need to organize my studio. Currently, it's a disaster area, similar to the toymaker's house in Blade Runner. Boy his place was a sty. Well okay, my studio (hahaha corner of the office) doesn't have leaks and stuff, but you get it.

I'm going to go back and remix it a couple more times. I have a hard time with funky acoustic vocal songs - I always put the vocals way too loud, so I'm working on it a little more first. SO in the meantime, how about something else to listen to.

MAKE ME LAUGH

Too many distractions! Ack.

Lessee. So I bought the new doodads. And I've been using them this week. I've recorded three songs - mostly throwaways just to get me back into the habit of recording and creating crap. You'd be surprised. Back, three or four years ago, I would come home, pat the boy on the head, kiss the wife and dissappear into the basement for 5-6 hours.

That's just how it happened. Not every day, but most days. And it became such a habit that I could walk in, put on a guitar, tap out a tempo and stuff just flowed out of me. Most of it was semi-forgettable, but the sheer volume of crap made it easier to make progress in less time.

And I can remember thinking, "damn, if I only had this, and that, and this, I could record better, faster, more proffessional songs and this whole thing would be easier and quicker".

Now that I've got all of those things, I'm let down by my own drive. I come home, pat the kids on the head, kiss the wife, sit down and 5 hours later I'm going to sleep.

Wait. What? What happened in those 5 hours? Well. Um. Comedy Central, and the IFC and Netflix, and some online forums and myspace and so much crap that's just big time-suckers. I CALL it research, but really, it's fucking off and wasting hours and hours with nothing - absolutely nothing - of value to show for it.

Well. This week I at least pulled my act together a little bit and I made up some interesting stuff, all in one day. The drumkit really speeded it all up. And it got me writing lyrics again. So damn. Hopefully this is a change in habits for me. No more TV. Fuck that shit. I've got too many other things going on:

- The Kids Album
- TAL3NT!
- The Blues Album (I'm planning to spew out a complete blues album now, going hard-core old-school. It'll be easy and quick and I'll finally have something.)

- The Christmas Website. Damn. That thing has become an albatross or a boat anchor or something around my neck. I can't believe it's taken me so long to resolve this thing. My involvement should have been limited and quick and then I hand it off, but instead I've dragged my heels for an entire YEAR.

But piss off. That's where I am. I'm doing what I can. I have so much I WANT to do. Today, I got a wild hair and suddenly dove headfirst into learning how to do old-school animation. Cuz, yeah, you know, I've got so much free time. What a dipshit.

Shopping Spree! I Love Cash!

I recently came into some money. Read into that what you will. And as it happens, money into my account means a race between me and the wife - who can spend the money before the other person! If I left it there, the house would find new curtains, a new carpet or two, some pretty new towels, maybe the fence would be painted... you know, totally useless stuff.

But instead haha oh NO! I bought shit for me!

A new microphone: R0DE NTK Tube Mic. What does it do? It has a tube. That makes it awesome.

And the new mic requires a new mic pre-amp.

What does a pre-amp do? Well, it takes the sound going into the mic and kind of adds frequencies and uses a tube to naturally compress the -- oh hell if I know, but I've been told I need one so there you go: I NEED ONE. Stop busting my balls.

A new acoustic guitar:


OH wow this thing is beautiful. I had one ten years ago and sold it to score a bass or some nonsense. So I bought another one last weekend! Hay hay!

Some amazingly beautiful pickups. These things look so unusual. and sexy. and people are going to see my guitar and say "Oh Beau, you are the greatest guitarist I've ever seen. How can you be so awesome?"

And a really nice drum throne because I rock the drums like a hurricane.

So, why all the new crap? It's for my Kids cd! Acoustics and drums and all sorts of awesome packed into a kids record. At least that's the plan. I've spent way too much money on music toys lately. So for real, I need to do something about it now don't I. It's hard being me.

Lastly; HERE'S YOUR FREE MP3: Run Your Hands All Over My Body. Oh calm down it's just a song.
STEAL MY MUSIC

Playing the live shows. Awesome.

Check out this song first of all. Holy shit. Joan Osborne, just, damn holy shit.

I'm discovering that there are a small handful of players around the city that I enjoy. Not just enjoy playing with them, but just fucking enjoy, period. Louie Vallee and John McKnight top that list - they listen, they bring something to the songs - just make the vibe so much better. I played two shows with them this weekend and the best parts of the gigs were when things just went down their own path.

I mean, there's details like, knowing the chord progression of a song, and the lyrics and melody and shit, but then there's parts that transcend. It's hard to explain, maybe you get it, maybe you know it when it happens, but if I had my way, I'd just play behind Louie soloing and McKnight drumming for the rest of my life.

Here's the fun to playing two shows back to back (which I rarely do): fingertips. Holy shit wow. By the end of last night's show, I felt like I was hitting my fingers with hammers with every chord. It really makes you get into your playing a little more, things aren't as easily thrown out there. You tend to get really greedy with your notes. And chords.

Which reminds me - I should learn to be more greedy. I think I overplay way too much. The songs could become so much more open if I'd let them. I'm just not used to being THAT entertainer - the guy who can reign it in. And, now that I've got no shows booked, at all, I suppose I'll use this time to work on that. And more songs. It's time to write some more timeless classics. Did you realize that Superhot Lady Cop is almost 10 years old? Damn that's a long time to play a song. I should write more timeless classics. That's all I'm saying.

As a treat to you, I'm going to start adding MP3s to my posts. Why not. It'll get you reading them, it'll get you listening, and that's all that matters. Check out music.

Swing Down, Live from 2006 - Beau Hall and the Magnificent 7

Okay, I've rambled on enough, I'm going to get on up and out. You keep it real. Get out and see a band or four this week.

My Music Retirement. It does not suck. Yet.

I saw the Rolling Stones movie Shine A Light last week. Holy shit if that movie didn't rock my balls. Honestly. There's rock movies, and then there's holy SHIT I WANNA START A BAND movies. This is one of those.

Think about it. Those guys are, what, 400 years old and they're busting out with energy and putting on killer shows still, and I'm here retiring and whining about how the life is getting in the way of the rocking.

But whatever. I've still got plans for my music. I'm just putting it on hold for awhile. Sort of. Funny enough, I think I've set up two gigs now. One in August and one later this month. So then, have I really retired?

It's just so hard to turn down a gig when they approach YOU for the gig. It's not like I'm looking for gigs. People just come up and throw themselves at me. (throw money I mean). I'm a fan of money. And a fan of adoration. So when the two are combined, well, fuck, who am I to dissapoint my fan.

Hot Dogs. Cheep.

Jesus my mind is everywhere. But let's get back to the point before I stray.

My job - oh wow it has become a bit of a fucking hassle these days. Is it because I'm so awesome? Is it because I am continually let down by fucking damn-near every person I should rely on? Is it because I exaggerate every little detail?

I'm leaning towards all of the above. Sure, why not.

It's days that I start to imagine myself running a goddamn hot dog stand. How complicated can that be? I make the hot dogs. People buy them at lunch because they're hungry. There's no tight dealines, there's just "gimme three dogs" and "okay here you go bitch that'll be ten dollars". Hey I'd make the best dogs you ever ate, don't dispute me.

But motherfuck. Being a brilliant innovative genius is being lost in the details lately - wiping so many people's asses I just can't believe I'm having to do this shit. And ah. This is where the big-money-manager-position comes in to play.

Or something. Fuck I don't know.

How to be Just Like Me.

I get that request all the time. People come up to me after shows, or in the shower, and say "Beau, how can I be just like you?" Most of the time, I'm just unable to sum it up in a simple 3-hour answer for these people. But I think I'm able to sum it up pretty simply.

1. Wear the cheapest fugliest shades you can buy for less than $6.See, there's a difference between cheap shades and expensive shades that LOOK cheap in a "haha hey look at me I'm slummin!" way. Start at Target. If the shades have a big $5.99! sticker on them, those are the ones. Don't think, just buy.

2. Dunkin Donuts Coffee. Fuck starbucks or any other shee-shee snotty west-valley panamanian morning blend bullshit. Get the Dunkin Donuts coffee or fuck it.

3. Cuss so much that people just give up asking you to stop. I'm talking borderline tourettes. Use it as every adjective. Fucking can mean positive or negative: 'that guy's a fucking asshole', 'she is fucking hot as fucking hell'. See what I mean. Shit and goddamn are close but use fucking more than any other word in your vocabulary. Fucking seriously

4. Worship Prince, the Stones, INXS, BB King, Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Erasure, Yaz, Casey Finch and oh fuck just anybody who can write a song with four-on-the-floor kickdrum. That's all you need. Four on the floor, the pentatonic scale and a swing beat like a hooker doubling up on two guys. You're welcome for that visual

5. Lastly. Multi-multitask. I mean, do several things at once in several compltely unrelated areas. Music: write and record a CD while booking and promoting gigs while trying to remember who the fuck you booked for which gig, while raising boys and nurturing a healthy loving marriage with all the commitment you can muster, while writing a book or two, while designing websites for 4 people. I mean motherfucking jesus christ what does it take for me to let go. I give my A.D.D. a run for it's money. As long as I'm going to have a short attention span, what the fuck let's dance little sister

I think that sums me up. Sure there's the childhood rearing requirements like dance the line between broke and rich as a child, religious and atheist and agnostic, get very involved in Boy Scouts and Youth Groups at church...

Star Bar: added to bars I hate.

Before you go off on me for bitching about a great bar and all that shit, I hate them because they won't book my band. Now, I REALIZE that my music would go over there as good as maybe Barry Manilow, but you know - I like to think that my music is accessible anywhere and everywhere. But Star Bar fuckers seem to think they know their crowd better than I do. How could that possibly be the case when I've been in there every single night from 4/23/97 to 4/24/97. Hell I KNOW their crowd.

So okay no I don't hate them. I hate that I am old and not the cool hepcat I wish I was. I wish I was accessible to all people in all genres and anybody and everybody loved me. You know, like that other artist that every genre adopts as their own. Um. That guy. Uh. Oh fuck you... what, now you work at the star bar too?

I have left this blog alone for a long time and gone back to blabbing constantly on myspace. But fuck that. I'm going to go back to posting the introspective, less than PR-related shit here and just post blogs about upcoming shows and fucking bars that love me.

And tell me this. How exactly is funk just not the greatest damn genre in the world? How is it that I have picked a genre that is (a) fucking outdated and (b) barely anybody acknowledges an appreciation for it? How is this? I must look just like the dreaded 40-yr-old hippies I knew in the 80s - I would look at them and think "jesus christ wake up. your movement is over. join the now".

And now, I'm in the then. That fucking sucks. I want to be in the next. Not the now or the then, but the next. And I keep listening to music, and some band will come along - Maroon 5, Jamiraquai, Chili Peppers (back before they became horrible), and I think "ah, here it comes, finally, the trend for music that you can dance to is coming back, and people will dance again and I will be on the Goddamned Cutting Edge FINALLY" and then, hahaha the jokes on me fuck you go home.

But I don't get it. Star Bar has hosted Romeo Cologne's Disco Hell for a decade. And two decades ago that fucker was spinning at Colorbox and my childhood friend was his understudy, who then took it over and took it to Velvet, and then to other clubs. The danceclubs STILL have successful disco nights. Fuck - that damn club on Ponce - the Clermont Lounge - shit they play that shit EVERY WEEKEND and people love to jam to the old shit. So why doesn't that crowd love to jam to new bands that play the same kind of grooves? And dress up and get funky and shit. I don't know. I am at a loss.

And okay lets go a step farther down the damn I am frustrated whats the point alley.

Promotion. I blow ice cold clam chowder at promoting. I can put on a hell of a show, but I lack the drive or motivation or foresight to promote something far off in the distant future. Like next week. I'm supposed to put up posters and flyers and shit at the bar for the ONE bar that believes in my idea, and I have dropped the ball. And tonight, I SHOULD drag my ass down there but I probably wont. I'll get home, put up my feet, entertain the boys, get them to bed, sit down and Fuck All Plans.

So then, you would argue, "well just get up and DO IT!!!!" fuck you. You don't have a wife in miserable pain and depression. You don't have this and that. Okay I don't know what it is. I am tired. That's what it is. I am tired.

Hmm. So maybe this music thing isn't really my game anymore. maybe I SHOULD just let these next three gigs be the quiet death of my career. Jesus how can I keep going with this kind of chipper attitude.

Great. now I'm quitting everything instead of bitching about the Star Bar. Thanks Star Bar fuckers for making me give up everything.

Oh I kid. I won't give up, I'm just being dramatic.