Something's Missing

 As I've said before, I'm always surprised to see that this blog is still up and running. But here it is. And so am I. 

However infrequent I do post, I do remember doing the posting. And I remember that within the past few years, I was involved in a challenge of sorts with a friend who had a similar experience in regard to posting. So I rose to the occasion and for a few weeks actually posted on a semi-regular basis.

But those post seemed to have gone missing. 

Not sure where they might have gone, but I am pretty sure that I did post them. Pretty sure. Now I have to figure that out.

Or not.

Still here?

I'm always surprised to find that this blog is still up and running. As I have said many times before, I am the world's worst blogger. Or the worlds most infrequent blogger. Whatever. I don't pay for this service - or at least I don't think I do. And I hope that, like crypto, this blog is not cutting some little hole in my carbon footprint by its continued existence because I don't need another thing to worry about in my life. My life. I'm going through some stuff. My job, my wife, my kid, my friends. All taking some sort of toll on me, not necessarily good or bad, but just dropping pebbles on my path. I still have many, many things to be thankful for and I try to be aware of that every day. Maybe because there are now less days ahead for me than there are gone by, I spend too much time thinking about what I need to do to navigate through the rest of them. Of course, the answer is to just be and let what will come, come. Or maybe the answer is to figure it all out so I can sit back and exhale. I've gotten this far using a little bit of both methods when they suited the situation. 

 I miss my son though I want nothing more for him to have this time, this experience. I think he is embracing it - I truly believe he would be letting us know if he wasn't. Everyone has a different path and he will find his. I can only do so much and much of what I do, even with the best intentions, may not be the best course of action for him. I'm sure that the experience of being away at school, on his own, has already changed him only a month or so in. How could it not? I think he is being incredibly strong in dealing with the situation. I'm very proud. 

 I went to jury duty yesterday. It was an interesting experience. I did get selected, it's a civil case about an accident between a car and motorcycle. I don't fully understand but it seems that the monetary compensation has been determined - all we have to do is establish the fault and the ratio of blame. I've always wanted to participate and do my civil duty and to see the process. And so I shall. 

 I also saw the David Bowie documentary "Moonage Daydream" the other day, in IMAX with about six other people in the theater. Totally loved it. What an amazing body of work and the film was as unique as he was. Amazing surround sound mixes as well. Mick Ronson rules. 

 Not sure why I felt compelled to write a post today. Like getting on the treadmill in the morning, perhaps the takeaway is that I showed up, always the first and most important step.

Beatles, Dylan and Who, Oh My! My Wild Rock and Roll Weekend.

I had a love affair with music for as long as I can remember. I don't know how or why it started, or why it took such a hold on me. It happened before The Beatles showed up, though their profound influence on my generation is without question. But even before that seminal moment, I had a true passion for music, mainly delivered through the radio and the records that my parents and older brothers played in our house. I also had a fascination for live music. Our neighbors had a piano in their front room and on summer days, I remember sitting on the front porch of my house, listening to the sounds drifting from their house to mine. It was obvious to me that this was something that I needed to do and I eventually did, though it ended up being via the guitar - the much sexier and obtainable choice of an instrument that seemed to be leading the charge of the sound of the early sixties.

But as much as I wanted to be a musician and be on the stage, I think I enjoy being on the other side of the stage even more. As soon as was able to do so, I started attending as many concerts as I could. Now these were different times and apparently a young teenage boy had unlimited options. I could jump on a train and head into New York City without a care. I don't remember where I even got the money to pay for the tickets! I would stuff some dollar bills into an envelope and send it off to the Fillmore East, requesting tickets for the show I wanted to see and I would either get the tickets or my money returned. Then came the Ticketron system or waiting online at the box office of various venues. The how's and why's escape me, but I found myself in the thick of it. The noise, the lights, the smells - and that magical moment when the band came bounding on to the stage. My heroes, stepping out from the LP covers of my growing record collection, larger than life and loud as hell, taking me and my fellow music lovers on a musical magic carpet ride.

I can't even guesstimate how many concerts I've been to since my first show - The Beach Boys at the Commack Arena - in 1968. Let's just say it's a lot. I've probably seen certain bands more times that most people have seen concerts altogether. I've been lucky to see some very special shows, American debuts, swan songs, final curtains, revivals and train wrecks. I've witnessed special guests, nervous breakdowns, equipment failures and no-shows. I'm not boasting when I say that I've seen all, because I really feel that I have. At the height of my concert going days, I could easily have gone to 10 shows a month and even some back-to-back. I remember seeing Robert Gordon at My Father's Place with Chris Spedding on guitar and immediately buying a ticket for the next night. I went to the Nassau Coliseum two nights in a row seeing Paul McCartney the first night, then CSNY the next. There were multi-night events like the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame shows at Madison Square Garden or the Arista Records benefit for New York City. And, of course, there were the various Springsteen residencies from the Bottom Line to the Meadowlands, where I found myself coming back night after night.

But nothing compares to the weekend I had in late July, early August of 1971.

I was all of 16 years old in 1971. My son is turning 16 this July. I can't even fathom him in my shoes, doing the things I was doing at that point in my life, but I hope that in someway, he's building similar memories. By the time I was 16 there was nothing else in my life but music. Music, music, music. Maybe girls - no, definitely girls, but even they took a back seat to the music. And in 1971, to me, the pinnacle of music was The Who.

I had been a fan of The Who for quite some time. Thanks to the glory of FM radio, especially WNEW, my rabid need to read every possible music magazine being printed at the time, and hanging out in record stores as much as possible, I had gotten an early jump on The Who, way before they began to make their mark in America. This was also due to my meeting Iain Morrison, who's musical knowledge and outstanding record collection was no doubt the biggest influence on my musical adventures. Iain, who moved here from Scotland, turned me and our other friends onto bands that we may not have otherwise heard of as well as supplying exotic sources of music news like the Melody Maker and the NME. I truly cannot underestimate what he brought to my life.

I quickly built up my collection of The Who's first albums and they became my band. I scoured record stores for bootlegs and imports. I remember being a bit mocked at a party when I bought my Who albums - this was pre-Tommy and even though they had a toe in American pop radio, they were yet not well known. And I remember showing up at Korvettes in Huntington on the day that "Tommy" was released. I had made friends with the record department manager - I'm sure I was one his best customers - and he let me in early as we opened the box and handed me the first copy. Now they were starting to get some traction on the radio and I just couldn't wait to see them live. I had read about the shows - the smashing of the instruments, the swinging microphones, Keith Moon and all. My brothers had actually seen them - at the Commack Arena - when they opened up for The Vanilla Fudge, I believe in 1967. But in these pre-internet days, I had only heard their studio recordings. I think that I probably saw "Montery Pop" but I remember getting "Live At Leeds" and being completely taken back. I had never heard anything like this. Then the Woodstock movie solidified them - to me - as the ultimate rock band. Who else even came close? Who made a sound like this? Was there any better definition of a rock star than Roger Daltrey, bare chested and defiant, standing in the middle of this sonic storm of chaos, distortion and pop-rock perfection? Not to this boy and boy, did I want to experience this. My turn was coming soon.

Saturday, July 31st, 1971. The Who at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium.

Now this was quite some time ago, 49 years if you're counting, and my memories are a bit, well, weathered. But I clearly remember being very excited that I would finally experience my band live and in person. They had a new album coming out, but the only thing that had been released was a single - "Won't Get Fooled Again" - and, as you can imagine, it wetted our appetite in a big way. We took the train to Forest Hills, and by we I'm not really sure who the "we" was. I'm fairly certain that the above mentioned Iain Morrison was with me and I know that one of our pals, Larry Lachman was at the show, though I'm not certain who sat with me. This concert turned out to be the first time I bought tickets from a scalper. We had tickets, but we thought we were buying better seats. I think it turned out to be the other way around. It was a hot, muggy night though an improvement from the show they played on the Thursday before where it rained pretty much throughout the performance. Labelle opened the show, though I doubt they played "Lady Marmalade" which they didn't record until 1974. I don't remember too much of their performance, though the New York Times described them as "a rather grating singing trio" in their review.

With "Who's Next" being released on August 14th, we were hearing many of the songs performed that night for the first time. Besides "Won't Get Fooled Again," they performed "Love Ain't For Keeping," "My Wife," "Bargain," and "Behind Blue Eyes." They seemed to be putting "Tommy" on the back burner, only performing "Pinball Wizard" and "See Me, Feel Me." We were treated to four songs from the mod era: "I Can't Explain," "Substitute, "Magic Bus" and "My Generation." I'm not sure if I had heard "Pure and Easy" as Townshend's solo version wouldn't be release for another year. The set also included "I Don't Even Know Myself" which had been recorded as part of the "Who's Next" sessions, a long jam on "Baby' Don't You Do It" and another long jam on the unreleased "Who's Next" out take, "Water."  The show closed with a long jam that begins with "Magic Bus" which morphed into "Naked Eye" and ending with a take on the classic "Road Runner."

Thanks to some bootlegs of the two nights, I can offer some insights from the band. Apparently there were many equipment problems during the two nights, though more on the rain-soaked Thursday. On the night I was there, Townshend's guitar was cutting out, most notably on "Pure & Easy" leading Daltrey to remark "Big T.  Gone very quiet tonight.  Got a few problems with his guitars" to which Pete replied "No trouble with the guitar.  I don’t like guitars and they don’t like me." There also seemed to be a cockroach problem at the venue, with Townshend and Moon making comments and squashing bugs on stage. Pete intro to "Water:" "this one’s called ‘Water’ and it’s about a man trudging across the desert with footsteps like this, killing cockroaches!"

It was just about everything I could have hoped for. There are plenty of photographs and home-movie quality videos, some of which have been synched with audience recordings - all of which back up my memories of a spectacular evening. I remember just being overwhelmed by all aspects of the evening. On the train ride home, I remember seeing some guys attempting to put together pieces of Townshend's guitar - they obviously had better seats than I did. It was an exhausting evening, but in just a few hours I would find myself back on the train, heading into New York City and Madison Square Garden. I was going from cockroaches to Beatles.

Sunday, August 1, 1971. The Concert for Bangladesh: George Harrison & Friends. Afternoon Show.

As of 1971, though I was starting to rack up quite the concert attendance list, I had not yet seen any of the Beatles perform. I missed out on the opportunity to see them in the early sixties and they had yet to start performing as solo artists. So when it was announced that George Harrison would stage a benefit for the people of Bangladesh at Madison Square Garden, it was obvious that I would be in that building. It was billed as "George Harrison And Friends" and rumors and speculation as to who those friends would be only amped up the excitement. Now while I can remember where my seat was and so much about that show, I'm really sorry to say that I can't remember who I went with! My money would be on, again, Iain but he'll have to confirm that. Anyway, for all the concerts that I attended, and all the lines I ever waited on to get tickets to said concerts, this remains the only one that I got on line and waited overnight for. It was well worth the wait.

My actual ticket stub. $5.50!

I attended the afternoon show, which had a start time of 2:30. So it was a pretty quick turnaround from the night before and I'm sure that my ears were still ringing from The 'Oo sonic assault as we jumped back on the train to the Garden. To say that the air was electric is a massive understatement. The show started and there he was - Beatle George - coming out to introduce the first group of friends, an group of Indian musicians led by sitar master Ravi Shankar. George asked the crowd to "try and get into it" and for the next 45 minutes or so, they mostly did, occasionally giving bursts of applause usually directed toward the dynamic tabla playing of All Rakha. But we were all collectively bursting in anticipation of who the rest of George's friends would be.

And then, after a short film educating us about the situation in Bangladesh, there they were.

Eric Clapton! Ringo! Leon Russell! Billy Preston! Klaus Voorman! Jim Keltner and 18 other musicians including the members of Badfinger. I was already well on my way to becoming a huge fan of Phil Spector and a fan of his work on Harrison's "All Things Must Pass" so it was obvious to me that even though I couldn't see him, based on the instrumentation on stage - two drummers, multiple acoustic guitars - that Phil was somewhere in the room. The band kicked in to "Wah-Wah" and we had lift-off! Keep in mind that this show was the first of it's kind - a super star gathering - half of The Beatles were right there! I realize that the depth of the talent has been eclipsed by benefit shows and festivals to come, but in this moment it was a 16-year old rock and roll fan's dream come true.

No doubt you've seen the movie or heard the LP. The performances were magical. Billy Preston rising up from his seat behind the organ to take us all to church on "That's The Way God Planned It." Leon Russell cementing his legend status with the medley of "Jumping Jack Flash/Youngblood." Ringo almost stealing the show with "It Don't Come Easy." But the highlight for me was Harrison and Clapton's massive guitar duel on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." I read afterwards that Eric was very "sick" that night, but whatever was driving him, took us all on a wild ride. It is the version that I saw that made it to the album and the movie.

How could this show be any better? Well, Harrison, who just had finished an acoustic version of "Here Comes The Sun" strapped on his Stratocaster and looked down at the set list he had taped to the guitar and saw that he had written "Bob?." He turned around to see Dylan coming on stage, shades on and arms pumping to the astonished cheers of the crowd. Harrison later said that it wasn't until that moment that he knew it was actually happening. And just like that, I saw my first of many performances by Bob Dylan, a five song set that I will never forget. Except of course, who shared in this magical moment with me.

Then the band came back out for three more songs, including his chart-topping hit "My Sweet Lord" and the song he wrote for the evening, "Bangladesh." The crowd walked out into the early New York City evening, thrilled, satisfied and exhausted. And I needed to get some rest, because I had some traveling to do the next day.

Monday, August 2, 1971. The Who, Saratoga Performing Arts Center.

Yes, my wild weekend was far from over. And, yes again, my memory somewhat fails me. We obviously drove up to Saratoga, about a four hour jaunt from the Island and while I can't commit one hundred percent to this, I'm going to say that Iain was the driver. He was a couple of years older than me and the rest of the gang and, more importantly, had a car. Needless to say, somehow, someway we made our way upstate for another go round with The Who.

Maybe it was because there were plenty of rock fans who wanted to capture a little bit of the magic that The Who brought to upstate New York a few years before at that 3-day's of peace and music thing. Maybe it was because they were the greatest fucking rock band on the planet at the time and it was a Monday night in the middle of the summer. For whatever reason, they broke the attendance record for the venue with 27,800 like minded (and similarly dressed) souls. Bonus trivia fact: the previous record was set by Chicago the year before with 22,800.

The crowd was a lot livelier than the one at Saturday's show at Forest Hills, probably due to the fact that it was nowhere near as hot and muggy. And they seemed to be everywhere - and I mean everywhere, hanging off the rafters, filling the aisles. We had lawn seats and I was just glad to be there. They had a pretty good "closed circuit TV system" as they referred to it at the time and the actual sight line wasn't too bad. Mylon opened the show - the band named after it's singer, Mylon LeFevre, who not only had written a song for Elvis and was a member of The Stamps, but was gaining some rock star cred of his own, recently recording an album produced by Ten Years After's Alvin Lee and recorded at George Harrison's studio with a who's who of early seventies rockstars backing him - Ron Wood, Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi and Mick Fleetwood. The crowd mostly hung in there with him, but it was obvious who they were there for.

The set was identical to the one on Thursday and, if this was possible, they were even louder. The building was actually vibrating. Again there were equipment problems and Daltrey seemed to be having a bad time. In fact, at one point he seemed to attempt to push a column of PA speakers off to the side before thinking better of it. The show ended with 27,800 stoned and deafened Who fans trying to make their way back to wherever they came from. I remember climbing a fence and I think I made it. I'm not sure if we slept in the car or drove back home. Another trivia fact: the next night the venue hosted the season opener of the Philadelphia Orchestra who performed works by Franz Liszt, who Roger Daltrey would later portray in the Ken Russel film, "Lisztomania."

And there you have it. 3 nights - well, two nights and an afternoon - of full tilt, glorious early seventies rock and roll at it's finest. Of all the shows that have came since, I can truly say that I never had another experience like it.

Long Live Rock!

Living In The Moment

The view from my "office," otherwise known as my dining room table, is one of my favorites. It's not anything special, in fact its an overgrown lot next to a house across the street. The home is a rental and the lot is crowded with trees and brush, which really should be cut and trimmed. But when we sit down for dinner, I guess it is better than looking at another house and when everything is in full bloom it's actually quite nice.

For me, in this moment, it's the same old view. And that makes me a very lucky person.

My view could be much different. As well as much worse. At this time, we must live in our moments, good, bad and otherwise. And if your view, your moment, is the same old, same old, count your blessings and remember - the grass isn't always greener. Especially when absentee landlords are involved.

Best Thing I've Heard All Year (2010 Version)

So, I'm back in the blog business. Not really, but trying. And it turns out, I had a few on the draft pile. Is this cheating? Anyway, set the wayback machine to 2010!

No doubt you were just going crazy wondering if and when I would publish my thoughts as to the best music released this year. Who am I to put you through such turmoil? The wait is over.

This year has been, for me, the year of the reissue. Without a doubt, the music that I've listened to the most this year has been music from my past. While that may sound somewhat sad, it couldn't be further from the truth.

Things kicked off with "The Promise" box from Bruce Springsteen. Built around his "Darkness On The Edge Of Town" release, this sprawling box included a remastered version of the original LP, a couple of DVDs that featured a documentary on the making of the reissue and a complete concert from 1979, a live performance of the LP from 2009 and more. The packaging is pretty nice, especially the reproduction of one of his notebooks filled with song lyrics, set notes and scribbles. But the real gift in this box is the two CD collection of un-issued tracks recorded during the original sessions. Bruce and the band went and touched up some of the tracks, some more than others, some not at all. The result is a great lost album - 21 tracks work together as a whole and that stand up to almost anything that he has done before or since.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darkness_on_the_Edge_of_Town#The_Promise:_The_Darkness_on_the_Edge_of_Town_Story

The deluxe re-issue of Eric Clapton's first solo album was actually reissued in 2006, but I gave it a listen - via MOG - just a few months ago. It contains a version of the LP produced by Delaney Bramlett, which I assume was passed over by Eric and/or the label for the version produced by Tom Dowd that was originally released. I really like this version. There is something more "organic" to the production that fits the songs quite well. I'm pretty sure that most of the vocals and solos are the same on both, but I could be wrong. It was a nice surprise as I had no idea this alternate version existed.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eric_Clapton_(album)

"Some Girls" may be my favorite Rolling Stones album, so I was interested to hear the remaster as I always felt that album was badly produced. I thought they did an excellent job on "Exile" so I was kind of let down to hear that the remaster retained all the things I didn't like about the original. However the 12 bonus tracks save the day. In fact, similar to the Springsteen set, you can consider this another lost album from 1978. I think that Don Was was brought in to oversee the sessions and that Keith and Mick did some over dubs to finish up some of the tracks. Killer stuff, especially the country tunes.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Some_Girls

Homeward Bound

All in all, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones - or as lucky as one can be who’s living in the current epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic. I’m not feeling sick, nor is my wife and son. As of this writing, I’m still employed and working. My friends and family are also doing well, though I do have friends and family who are dealing with serious issues unrelated to the virus and it only makes their situation worse and my heart aches for them. With all of the projections, realistic or not, I’ve become to realize that this is a day-to-day event. Every day we watch the news, listen the numbers, cross our fingers and say silent prayers. Every day we wait to hear news of a breakthrough. Every day we attempt to keep our spirits up, our lives intact. And every night we lay our heads on our pillows in the hope that tomorrow will break the cycle.

Working for home for me is practically no different than working at the office. I sit in front a computer for most of my day, breaking for meetings that, for the most part, could have been handled in an email or even a text. I’m in the midst of a large project, re-platforming a website and it’s challenging and creative work. As nice as it is to work from home - having a window to look out of, better coffee and yes, more comfortable clothes - I miss the break in the day that the workday brought. I miss the drive back and forth to the office. I even miss the meetings, as it was all part of a social environment that just stopped.

And speaking of social environments, I am so missing my friends. I’m blessed to have so many good friends and we tend to do things in groups. We never need much of an excuse to band together for a night out and now that’s been sidelined. Dates that were on the calendar, tickets for shows, dinners planned have all been put on hold. We’ve had a few virtual hang outs and they did wonders for our soul. We laughed and enjoyed each others company, giving us a much needed lift. We did the same with the family on my side and that was very special as it was not only great to see everyone at once, but gave me a much needed reminder that I need to bring more of that back into our lives once this has all moved behind us.

Then there’s the music.

If you’re reading this, then you know how much music means to me. I had just started a new commitment to go out and see more of my friends perform locally, along with all of the usual concerts I attend. It’s been great seeing how so many talented friends and favorite performers have utilized the various virtual spaces to keep the music going. I watched Kevin Gordon work out the kinks during his first livestream from his home in Nashville. I’ve enjoyed performances by my friends Pete Mancini and Christine Sweeney, along with video performances by Emily Duff, Allen Santoriello and Jon Geffner. This morning I watched the sweetest performance of  Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” by my Bluebeats mate, Alison Tramontana and her lovely family. All of these performance's have been very special and, in fact, if you're looking for silver linings, perhaps the embracing of this method of performing and sharing music, will continue to grow, spreading the joy of music even further when the good times return.

Tomorrow will be another day. I will wake up, shower and get myself ready for work. I will do what I do and eventually clock out and move on to family time. We'll have dinner, maybe play a game or watch a movie. We will sit outside and feel the sun on our faces and enjoy the spring flowers. We'll call our friends and family, and check in on those with special needs. We'll listen to the news, and we'll hope and pray that maybe today is the day when it begins to change for the better.

Bang! Zoom! To The Moon!

Yesterday was my son Liam's 15th birthday. While doing the usual reminiscing that accompanies such events, Liam reminded me that I have a blog - this one - and that there was a post about the day he was born. He called it up on his phone and read it to Lizz and I and the memories came flooding back, about that wonderful day fifteen years ago and about the fact that I am truly the world's worst blogger. So, once again, I made a mental note that I would for no particular reason, attempt to put my thoughts on pixels for the world to see.

I don't think I have ever written about the New York Roots Music Association, or NYRMA as our friends call us. That seems a bit odd as it has been a pretty big part of my life for the past 8 or so years. I'll save the story of how it all came to be for another time, but NYRMA is a musician's collective that puts on themed musical events about four times a year and we have a show this coming Saturday, July 20th 2019 that will feature over 30 local musicians.

For this show, it was decided that we would not take the more obvious route and do a tribute to Woodstock, which is celebrating a 50th anniversary. Instead, we set our sights on another event from fifty years past - the first moon landing. And we decided that we would hold the show fifty years to the day that the Eagle set down on the lunar surface.

The show is shaping up well. We have a couple more rehearsals to go, but everyone is sounding great. Ticket sales for this one have been a bit slow - we usually play to about 300 or so people - and I'm hoping to see an uptick in the final few days. No matter what, the show must, and will, go on.

I'll write more about NYRMA and the show later. Maybe.

I remember the events of the year 1969 pretty well. I was14 years old and the upcoming music festival taking place in upstate New York weighed heavily on my mind. Music was my world and I had already had quite a few concerts under my belt. However, I knew that there was no way that my parents would give me permission to go and, to be completely honest, I wasn't the most adventurous soul and even at that early age, was fond of creature comforts and personal spaces.

On July 20th of that year, we gathered in the living room to watch what seemed to be an impossible feat, the same room where I watched The Beatles on Ed Sullivan change the course of my life, where we had watched Jack Ruby gun down Lee Harvey Oswald, where I watched "The Adventures Of Superman" and that "strange visitor from another planet" to watch men land on another planet. Yes, I know, the moon is not a planet. But no matter, this was space travel far beyond anything we had seen before and we had a front row seat.

Watching the grainy footage as the LEM touched ground and seeing the reaction on the faces on both the adults in the room and the news correspondents on the television made me realize just how epic the event was. It was if the entire world was holding its breath as they descended to the landing point.

I remember taking my dog out for a walk that night and looking up at the moon in wonder knowing that there were men up there. I also remember thinking about how Joe Cocker was so obviously ripping off Ray Charles. So, for me,  music was a part of that night as it will be fifty years later to the day on Saturday. But there will not be any Ray Charles or Joe Cocker.

There's No Place Like Home

Lizz and I decided to end the Memorial Day weekend - and to celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary - by taking a ride out to the "Nautical Mile" in Freeport to see Brian Halverson and Mark Pohl with their new band, Boomerang. We had run into Bill and Claudia Walsh earlier in the day at the community garden and we're glad that they decided to join us. It was a beautiful day, and we set out in the Mini with the top down and headed to Otto's.

I couldn't remember the last time I had been to Freeport. Lizz and I had been there together, probably way early in our relationship, at least twenty years ago. I had most likely never had been there before. As expected, the place was buzzing. As we pulled into the strip, we had the pleasure of being behind a couple of guys on a couple of rice rockets - which I hope is not an offensive term - who felt the need to rev their engines constantly like a couple of caged lions roaring to be set free.

It was hard to get a grip on what exactly the vibe was - mainly because there were many different vibes happening all at once. Some places were packed, music pumping while others, like a nice looking brewery was almost totally empty. Lot's of different cultures on the street, but sadly it felt more like ships passing cautiously in the night than a melting pot block party. But that could have just been my take.

We arrived at Otto's and we had done a bit of prep work, reading the menu and the various on-line reviews. Based on that, our expectations were low. Sadly, they were right on point.

More on that in a bit. The reason we came was to see the band, and they were a lot of fun. A crazy mix of songs including a few that you definitely won't hear at your local bar. If you can say anything about Brian, it's that he's all in, whether channeling Pet Clark or Michael Jackson. Plus, it's always great to hear and watch Mark behind the kit. That was a good time. So was running into Mark Mancini and his lovely fiancee Josette along with daughter Gracie. It was Mark's birthday, so we all had something to celebrate. One of the things that I love about my friends is that we always manage to make the best of any situation - it always starts with just being able to spend time together and builds on that.

But Otto's was just kinda sad. The staff was just overwhelmed even though there were many empty tables. I don't know what was going on in the kitchen, but I'm pretty sure it was full on panic mode. I read a review that was spot on - they said that they kept expecting Gordon Ramsey to pop up, firing people on the spot and closing the place down for a reboot. One could only hope. I mean the place is obviously a gold mine, great location, people willing to line up to get in - why not even attempt to make them happy?

How Terribly Strange To Be ... 60

My 60th birthday is just about a month away and I can tell you that, without any exaggeration, it really sucks hitting this "milestone." I seemed to have handled all the other "big" birthdays in stride, though I will admit that I had some issues with my 50th, but it was more not wanting to make a big deal of it. Lizz, to her credit, wanted to mark the occasion in some way but I resisted as if by not celebrating the fact it would go away. We ended up having a nice little dinner out with some friends. Actually turning 50 wasn't such of a big deal. I had way too much going on in my world - including a newborn son - to feel anything but alive and fairly well.

The only other birthday that depressed me was my 27th. I just didn't like where I was - physically, spiritually and career wise - at the time. However, it wasn't a long-lasting event as my life was soon to begin a series of interesting, if not successful, changes.

But this one is different. I think I figured out why. When you turn 50 your mind plays a little trick on you. 50 sounds like half-way or fifty percent. Yes, I know most of us don't live to be 100, but you still get a feeling that you've reached a half-way point and that's not bad. Also, most of us are doing pretty good now at 50 in spite of whatever bad habits you may have thanks to modern medicine and a bit of good luck. But now you turn 60 and all you can do with that number is round it up to dead. Plus let's face it - 60 years is long time for anything to last and still be in good working order so the little aches and pains are starting to add up. Then you have the added bonus of watching all of your childhood heroes age badly - the lucky ones, anyway.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a tale of woe. I am having the time of my life. I have a spectacular family. Lizz and I have hit a new stride in our relationship and Liam is just the greatest gift I have ever received. I'm still gainfully employed, still making music with my friends who, by the way, are some of the most interesting and fun folks around. I really have no right to complain about anything.

So unlike my 50th, I decided to embrace this one - big time. One of my old bands from the 80s - The Fabians - had been discussing the possibilities of getting back together and I was able to coincide it with my upcoming birthday. A bunch of my friends are also going to get up and play so I'll be celebrating with the people I love the most, doing what I love to do. I've also decided to dedicate this year to doing things that I've been putting off for too long. All things said, the sixth decade of my being is off to a pretty good start.

One thing though. AARP can kiss my ass.

Long Live Rock

On the way to see The Who last night it hit me that this could be the last time I was to see them perform as a band. It was the last performance of their US tour and you have to wonder if they would ever be up to another one. So many variables to consider, the least of which is just knowing when to say when. Add the fact that they just spent almost a year playing a massive production of Quadrophenia - a record that was built upon the personalities of the four original members - a show that at times seemed like a career retrospective with archival videos projected on the huge screens and included performances by both John Entwistle and Keith Moon. If this was the note - pure and not so easy - that they would go out on, it would have been a high note to be sure, but it still made me feel a bit melancholy that this might be the wrap up to a relationship that had started when I was a teenager.

 But a funny thing happened on the way to the old Felt Forum. After a blistering set by Elvis Costello, who ran through a parade of classics like the building was on fire, The Who took the stage to perform what was billed as a "greatest hits" show. In actuality, it was little more than the extra songs that they had been playing on the tour to close the shows. But there was a difference last night - a big difference. The huge stage had been stripped down for the smaller venue but the distinct change was that the ghosts stayed backstage. During the tour, one of the highlights of the evening was John Entwistle's bass solo, played "live" thanks to the magic of modern technology as Pino Pallidino, who stepped right into Entwistle's shoes after he passed, respectfully left the stage. However, when they played the song last night, there was no video and it was Pino who brought the thunder. They didn't play "Bell Boy" so Keith's bit wasn't a part of the show, but his god son Zach Starkey made it clear that you can draw a line from the past to the future, bringing something new while embracing the old. Roger was giving his all as he always does. A Who show always lives or dies with Pete, and he was alive and well, going for some of the high notes this time around and wrangling, strangling and slapping his guitar - to the point where I almost thought we might see one meet the stage floor only to be spared at the last moment. 

They had been ending the shows with "Tea and Theater" from "Endless Wire" with only Pete and Roger on stage. That song, with it's retrospective lyrics (we did it all, didn't we?) made you feel that this may be a their swan song. But last night, after ending with "Won't Get Fooled Again," the band lined up across the front of the stage and left us with rock's greatest anthem ringing in our ears.

 It may be all speculation on my part, but it felt as if there was a very conscience effort to show that this was a band with a long history, a loud and proud, history, but that the story is not quite finished. This isn't The Who that was, but The Who that is, here and now and, quite possibly, for another amazing journey somewhere down the line. I know I'm ready for it and as far as The Who - well I can tell you that the kids are alright.

And, we're back ...

It truly is official. I am the world's worst blogger - at least in regard to regular posting. Yet, here I am again, at the beginning of a new year filled with new hope that this will be the start of a regular stream of my thoughts committed to pixels, zeros and ones.

We'll see.

It's January so that means most of my free thoughts are destined to be about Elvis. Not so much about the man himself, but rather about The Elvis Show, a yearly charity event that I host. This will be the third year back at The Boulton Center in Bay Shore, and it looks as if we are headed for yet another sell-out. This year's show is themed "Elvis At The Movies" and consists entirely of songs from his films. I steered clear of the bigger hits - though as the movies progressed there were less and less actual hits involved. We are also doing the entire soundtrack to "King Creole," one of my favorite films and soundtracks.

This year I also picked the songs for most of the performers. I was a bit nervous but it seems like I did a pretty good job. Not going to give out any previews, you'll have to come to the show. We are right in the middle of rehearsals, which always have a festive air about them, extending the holiday season somewhat. This year calls for that extension, more than any other in recent memory. A lot of sad and bad news seemed to be coming from all angles at the end of the year, people passing away, getting sick, all sorts of things. Not to forget about the devastation from Hurricane Sandy and the tragic shooting in Newtown, CT. It seemed like the only news was bad news.

Music has always been there for me whenever I needed to escape from my troubles or validate my actions. That is still the case and I'm hoping that this show will help some friends who have been hit particularly hard recently to at least have a few moments where they can relax and have a laugh or two. God knows they deserve it.

Branches, Trees, Roots

There is a lot of grumbling going on around Long Island as a small army of men and woman go about cleaning up the mess left by hurricane Irene. I was in the dark for three days and it was not a pleasant experience. I can only imagine how difficult it is for those with special needs. Even so I am always surprised by the response of the public to those who did not create this problem, are doing their best to correct it and yet suffer the wrath of those who think that berating these workers will somehow get their lights back on.

Maybe it's me but I can't help but wonder where this attitude has come from. Could it be the endless stream of whiners that flood the airwaves and fill the television screens these days? 

It was thirty years ago that Bruce Springsteen held a benefit show for the Vietnam Veterans. This was Springsteen's coming out party as a true social activist and, as a side note, certainly one of the top-ten shows of his career. If you have a chance to dig it up you'll find it well worth your time. A little known fact is that Springsteen single handedly saved the Vietnam Veterans Association, placing a call to them on the very day that they were going to close up shop due to financial problems and a lack of support. Springsteen opened the show with an exceptionally accurate view of the plight of the Vets and then introduced Robert Mueller, a Vietnam vet, who introduced the event and in a few minutes explained what everything was about in the most eloquent way. The two speeches are short, to the point and truly uplifting.

The band then kicks into John Fogerty's "Who'll Stop The Rain" and from the opening note you can hear that, to a man, the E-Streeters were well aware of the importance of that evening's performance.            

Remembering that night and the mood of the country at that time, Mueller recently said that among the many, many obstacles that the returning vets had to deal with was that they were associated with the war it self instead of soldiers who were just doing their job. The fact is that a great part of why even the most ardent anti-war activists can now separate the troops from the mission is due to the work by the Vietnam Veterans groups.

If you will; don't hate the players, hate the game.

Now it's 30 years down the road and a lot of men and women still have nowhere to run, nowhere to go. But thanks to an August night in 1981 many were able to find a light to lead them out of the darkness and it was Bruce Springsteen, the E-Street Band and rock and roll that led the way. Like I said, check out the show if you can. When rock and roll is delivering a message it can be powerful stuff indeed.

Some guy, who may very well traveled from out of town, who is cutting down branches today somewhere on Long Island is certainly different than a nineteen year old who was sent off to a foreign land to fight for his country, but they are both men with a job to do - and they both deserve your thanks and support.

Why Spotify will change your life - even if you never use it.

When I bought my car a few years ago it came with a 3-month free pass for XM radio, something I had no previous interest in and something that I had said time and time again that I would never subscribe to. Pay for radio? No way. Needless to say that within a week I was hooked and now I live in the Underground Garage and Outlaw Country. I am positively giddy over the fact that they will be adding a 24-7 channel built around Dylan's radio show.

When I first heard of Spotify I didn't see any reason why I would like that any better then the other subscription-based music services like Rhapsody and LaLa. After all, I have a huge music collection - over 50,000 songs in my iTunes library. I definitely embraced downloadable music - I am more than willing to give up the physical aspect of most recordings and when a package is worth buying for, well, the package, I'll buy it. But do I really need to pay for another music service - especially where I am in effect renting the music and not buying it?

Oh yeah.

Spotify delivers, big time. Think of an album or a song you want to hear and there it is. Take a few minutes and build a playlist that will last all day long. But Steve, what about those 50,000 songs of yours? Surely you have enough music to listen to, right?

The beauty here is that Spotify will be different things to different people. For the average person, five bucks a month to listen to whatever you want, whenever you want is a great deal. For people like me - who obviously have collected and purchased music all their life, there is still a great deal of music from their past that has yet to make the transition from vinyl to CD, much less from CD to digital. Its been a blast thinking of older LPs that I haven't bothered to digitize (a "best intentions" scenario if there ever was one), only to have them instantly appear on my desktop.

Right now I'm rocking the free version which lets you listen to as much as you want with short 15 second ads every 15 minutes or so. The five dollar a month buy in takes the ads away and ten bucks gets you the mobile app so you can listen via your phone. The paid versions also let you keep something like 3000 songs off line so you don't need an internet connection - great for traveling and all that.

The thing about subscription services is that eventually the prices will go up and should you decide to drop the service - you lose all of your music. That could certainly suck for some folks, but I have those 50,000 songs to fall back on.

Or I could take a long drive and listen to the XM.

I guess there's just a meanness in this world

I know that there are at least two sides to every story and that, usually, even the most unfathomable circumstances can be explained. As Mr. Holmes said, "Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth." Even so, I will never understand how one human being can inflect pain and injury on another without a real and true reason.

Believe me, I understand justice and I believe in it.

I have a friend who was attacked recently and beaten badly. He was blindsided - the victim of a coward who had only one goal - to do him harm. As I said up top, there may or may not be a reason that drove this madman to commit this crime, but one thing is certain - my friend did nothing to deserve this.

What is that allows a person to leave all reason behind and commit such a senseless act? Is it a chemical imbalance or some sort of bad wiring? Is it simply a lack of understanding of right vs wrong? Is society or his parents to blame? Or is it as Bruce Springsteen sings in "Nebraska" that "there's just a meanness in this world?"

I'm stumped. In the past few weeks, for whatever reason, bad news has affected me in ways that it hasn't before. It's just the sad truth that there is always a sad story in the paper and while they often caused me to pause and consider the family and friends of these unfortunate individuals, lately they linger longer in my thoughts. The nine-year-old boy lured into a car by a stranger. The insanity in Norway. A purse snatching in my hometown just a few blocks from my house. All strangers, but I kept imagining myself or my family in their place. It was if if there was a ever tightening circle of evil that was surrounding us.

Now I've seen it, if not first-hand very, very up close and it has chilled me to the bone.

Awesome!

Lately I find myself surrounded by all things awesome. I can't stop using that word and I've been called out on it a few times. Usually that would give me pause for thought, this time I just paused long enough to realize that I'm right - at this moment in my life there is awesomeness just about everywhere I look.

There is my awesome family, of course. But that's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about stuff.

First off my new iPhone. I bought the original on the day it came out and it served me very well. But my new one is AWESOME! I can't get over the quality of the video that I've shot and the photos are much improved as well. I have yet to experience the much reported connection problems and I still got a free case out of the deal - how awesome is that?

On the subject of all things Apple, the iPad is, in a word, awesome! Every week a new app comes out that blows my mind. A couple of weeks ago it was Flipboard which collects content from various sources and presents in a way that could only be delivered on the iPad, including your Facebook feed. This week it's Uzu - a totally awesome time waster that takes full advantage of the iPad's multi-touch capability and lets you create an on-screen "fireworks" display. My awesome six-year-old Liam showed me how to use it.

I recently got a new guitar tuner, the massively awesome PolyTune from TC Electronic. Unlike other tuners, with the PolyTune you just strum all six open strings and it instantly shows you which ones are out of tune! Until you use it, you won't know just how awesome this thing is!

The other day Lizz and I took her parent's out for their birthdays which are a few days apart from each other. We went to brunch at Robke's, where they extend their awesome ten dollar lunch menu with a bunch of black-board specials and a nice selection of five dollar cocktails. We have never been disappointed there and Robke's is the only place that I can truly say that everything on the menu is, well, awesome.

On Friday nights we have been taking advantage of the awesome little free music program in Northport village. This week it was an awesome bluegrass band which we enjoyed as we sat on a bench in the park and watched the awesome sunset frame our beautiful little harbor.

This past weekend my - if I may say this - awesome band, The Blaggards, played out at Nick's in Montauk. The weather, the crowd, the food, the drinks, the bartenders, the ride there and back and our super-talented friends were all absolutely awesome.

You may think that I'm exaggerating a bit with all this awesomality (I just made that word up - just like Sarah, who is most definitely NOT awesome), but believe me, I'm not. I didn't even mention 3D movies, butter your own pop corn, Elvis on the big screen, Stevia sweetened Frappucinos, setting my DVR from my phone, velcro, the NY Yankees, NYRMA, Mick's Fender Acoustasonic amp, $69 1TB hard drives, my new office or the new Elvis guitar picks that Melanie just gave me.

All awesome.

iWant

If you are one of the Apple faithful, then you pretty much think that they are going to change the world once again on January 27th when - if all of the buzz is correct - they announce the release of the mythical Apple tablet, possibly called the iSlate. I don't care what they call it - iWant it.

What has been described as an "overgrown" iPod touch will no doubt be one of the coolest products ever. I had absolutely no problem typing that previous sentence. After all, Apple has only had a few foul balls along the way in what has basically been a home run derby of technology. I have no doubt that I will be floored at what this thing will do besides all of the things I am taking for granted that it will do.

I was one of the first Mac owners. I have probably owned and/or worked on every model they have ever made, with the exception of the 20th Anniversary Mac and the Cube. I bought the original iPod and the iPhone on the day it was released. I own an Apple TV. My entire music library is based around iTunes and just surpassed 40,000 songs. I currently have six Macs in my house, though only 3 are truly in operation.

In the past few years, for whatever reasons, I have slowed down in regards to having the latest and greatest. I have not upgraded my iPhone, it works just fine for me. My last iPod is a bulky monster compared to the new models. My family iMac is - hold your breath - not aluminum. Even worse, since it is not an Intel based model, it won't run the latest OS, making me feel like I'm watching television in black and white when I check my email. While there is nothing to stop me from updating any of these machines I have held back.

But this new, un-seen device? iWant, iWant, iWant!

My wife will roll her eyes and wonder why. But when she gets her hands on it - and then realizes that it can most likely replace the iMac in the living room AND the big cabinet that holds it AND realizes that Liam will not only embrace it instantly but that it will very likely be the model for every computer he may ever use in his lifetime, well she may even admit that it's pretty darn cool.

Whatever it is.

Four, Calling Birds ...

During her holiday interview with President Obama, Oprah Winfrey asked what was his most memorable Christmas gift. For him, it was a basketball given to him by his father the year they met. That led me to ask myself that same question. 54 years of gifts - that is a lot to choose from. I've asked this question to a few friends and, for most of them, the answer doesn't come easily.

Not for me.

Over the years I have received plenty of memorable gifts. The James Bond attache case certainly is up there as I spent a great deal of time and effort trying to replace it, finally doing so last year. I thought I would never get one but I actually did and for much less than I thought it would cost me. That is another story.

For me, the one gift that stands out the most, that had the most profound effect on me and made impressions that still last till this day, was a copy of The White Album by the Beatles. If my parents had any idea about the changes that this record album would bring forth in my life I have no doubt that they would not have slipped under the tree back in 1968.

I had been a Beatles fan since I first heard them, hiding under the covers with my transistor radio. Seeing them on the Ed Sullivan show burned an image in my brain that not only gave me direction as to what I wanted to be and how I wanted to look, but gave me something that I could hold onto and claim as my own. Though their entire catalog would soon be familiar to me as my own skin, but in 1968 I didn't yet own every Beatles album. But this one - with the enclosed photos and poster which immediately went up on my bedroom wall - was special. It was massive - four sides, a collection of songs as diverse as I had ever heard. It would be years before I put together the whole story, how this was the beginning of the end, who actually played on what song and what some of the more arcane and inside references were all about. I was in the moment with this record and once again The Beatles were showing me a different way - actually in this case, many different ways - of how things were done.

It became the soundtrack of my life for what was a pretty incredible year. Men on the moon, Woodstock, Nixon, Vietnam - my 14 year-old brain was processing so much information so fast I am still surprised my head didn't explode. This was the year that the air guitar I had been playing since 1964 turned into a real guitar, an event that certainly was inspired by watching The Beatles on Sullivan and enforced by the White Album (by the way, I know the LP is actually titled "The Beatles" but it will always be the White Album to me). This album also made me realize that quite a few songs were either about or had references to sex - I remember my mom expressing her dissatisfaction from the other side of my bedroom door after hearing "Why Don't We Do It In The Road." It was only then I realized that most of the songs I listened to were actually about sex and even the ones that weren't, kind of were as well.

The White Album also showed me that people change and that change was not a bad thing. Soon we would start putting people into boxes and the concept of an artist embracing so many different styles would be labeled as having a "lack of focus." Like a great book, each time I listened I found something new, a hidden guitar lick or a lyric that I had missed. The musical references, both obvious and obscure, started me down paths that broadened my musical horizon. Similar to the way that the Harry Smith anthologies created a template for so many bands, I believe that The White Album launched another generation in many different directions.

I love the journey that I've been on for the past forty-one years and The White Album certainly has been a huge part of the map. While it may have been the "beginning of the end" for The Beatles, it was a new beginning for John, Paul, George, Ringo - and me.

The Big Night

As we approach my favorite day of the year, Christmas Eve, I find myself in that delicate balance of tradition vs change. This year there will be a little break in regards to tradition as we won't be gathering at my brother Don's house for dinner as we have for the past decade or so. I've always enjoyed the evening at their house - they have this wonderful, huge table that must seat twenty in their dining room and they are gracious hosts. But things are what they are. Thus the element of change - as in a change of location - and that's fine.

What's not going to change is the food. While I always enjoy getting together with the family - all right, while I sometimes enjoy getting together with the family, I have to admit that Christmas Eve is all about the food.

There are many origins of what is called the "feast of the seven fishes" a tradition that has roots in southern Italy. I don't know any of them. I'm not sure if we have seven "fishes" - we can count them later. I didn't pay much attention to this meal for the first 25 years or so of my life, and I am pretty sure it has remained the same for as long as I was around, probably even longer. However, once I came to my senses and realized what I was missing, I vowed never to miss it again and I've stuck to that vow.

For years my parents home - the house I grew up in - was where Christmas Eve was spent. A tiny cape, with no dining room, we managed to have not only our family of six, but as the years went by the numbers grew with assorted aunts and uncles, girlfriends - some of which became wives, leading the way to grand children. All of which crowded into our small living room which became the de-facto dining room, complete with the sofa, christmas tree and television set. It may have been tight, but it was never unbearable and the crowd just added to the spirit of the holiday - and it probably helped keep the house warm!

But the real heat was in the kitchen. This is where my mom cooked for the masses almost single-handedly. My dad's role in the holiday fare was the home-made panettone - a sweet bread that we enjoyed on Christmas morning - but that's another story. My mom's kitchen was - and still is - a one woman show and for years this was her "Big Night."

I've heard other Italians describe their meal and it seems to be more of an homage to gluttony with many breaks with tradition. While my mom served more food than anyone person has a right to eat, nothing is too heavy, no stuffed lobsters or errant trays of baked pasta. This is all about a selection of dishes that could easily stand alone, but work together wonderfully.

For me, this isn't an evening for antipasto. Yes, I'm a fan but there is a lot of food coming my way and I don't want to get filled up on the opening act. Plus, there is dessert on the other side of this pony, so lets just get to the main act. However there is a tray of olives, black and green and some fennel - Finnochio, or as translated into "Italian-American" - feh nook.

The meal begins with spaghetti that has been prepared with garlic, olive oil, anchovies and walnuts. Before you go "ewww … Anchovies!" know this: they are cooked down to be a flavor element of the sauce and the end result is to die for. The mixture is tossed with pasta and served with some of the pasta water on the side. While most people who try this are converted, there is always a bowl of spaghetti with butter and/or garlic and oil for those with less adventurous palettes. Here's a link to a recipe that is very close to my Mom's.

When this dish is right - and it's almost always right - you can just stop there. I have to force myself not to have a third helping ( a second is a given). I still can't figure out why we only eat this simple but incredible dish once a year.

From that plate it becomes all out madness - everything else comes to the table at once:

- Baccala (dried, salted cod that has been reconstituted and is served chilled over a lemony escarole salad). Surprisingly fresh and refreshing, but my least favorite dish.
- Homemade Seafood Salad (Insalata Frutti di Mare) with lobster, calamari, shrimp and Scungilli. Always unbelievable, best I've ever had.
- Scungilli Fra Diaovlo - In a sauce that will have you going through a loaf of crusty italian bread in no time, regardless of how tough or tender the conch may be.
- Flounder Fillets - breaded and fried to perfection. Seems like a bit-player but always welcome on my plate.
- Shrimp Scampi - may be the star of the meal and what garlic may have been invented for. Made in massive quantities to avoid fights.
- Broccoli - the only side dish and only vegetable if you don't count the escarole salad and the celery in the seafood salad. Par-boiled and served cold, tossed with garlic and lemon. Even my five-year old likes broccoli when Grandma makes it.

So, lets count the fish:
-Anchovies
-Cod
-Lobster
-Shrimp
-Flounder
-Scungilli
-Calamari

Whaddya know - Seven!

My mother turned out this meal year after year in her impossibly small kitchen and, as I said, almost single handily. After my father passed away and with my mother getting on a bit, my brother Don began to host the meal. My mother then began to oversee things with Don's wife Lorraine and their Daughter Lynn stepping up and lending a hand.

My mother is a fantastic cook. I can't even order some of the food that she makes in restaurants as I know that I will be disappointed. And as with any kitchen, you can easily have too many cooks. Believe me, while she was probably glad to step aside it - she is in her eighties - yet I know that it pained her to see any changes from the way she had done things for so many years. Thankfully - and this is in no way a slight to Lorraine or Lynn - my mother's hand was still guiding the meal.

This year things will be a bit different.

Time after time I have said to myself that I have to take some cooking lessons from my mom. I always get a laugh when I ask her about a recipe and she pulls out a yellowed news clipping from 50 years ago that she has tucked in some cookbook. In some cases she has modified it somewhat, in others she hadn't changed a thing. It is ones that were passed down from her mother where things can get a little gray. "How much salt goes in here, Mom?" "Oh, I don't know. A pinch or so." I've been successful recreating some of the dishes, not so much with others. Lizz has done a great job with a few - especially one of my favorites - cavatelli with broccoli (frozen chopped broccoli sauteed in oil and garlic and tossed with the pasta and crushed red) served with pan fried chicken cutlets. As with most of my mom's meals the ingredient list is short. Most of the dishes in the Christmas Eve meal have under 5 ingredients, some less. It comes down to execution and knowing just how many "pinches" to throw in. Sounds easy, right? Any good cook knows it's not that easy.

So although I will miss the scene at my brother's house, Lizz and I are looking forward to cooking this meal at our house this year under my the watchful eye of my mother. We will be cooking for about 12 - usually there's twice as many. I also will spending a lot of time in the kitchen, as opposed to sitting at the table with the men, drinking wine. But there are benefits. It will give us a chance to learn how to do this, so hopefully we can keep this tradition going when and if we are called to do so. Plus we get all the leftovers!

That's our story. There are a million variations and I would love to hear about yours.

Here's a few that caught my eye, Mario Batali and another interesting menu.

Plus, check out this great graphic novel at the Feast Of The Seven Fishes blog.

Seconds Of Pleasure, Hours Of Practice

Just a little note about what I'll be up to with the Blaggards over this holiday season!

On Saturday, December 26th - the official start of the 2010 Holiday season - my band, the ever-loving Blaggards will join our good friends The Lone Sharks at Roy Wilson's Rockabilly Saturday Night concert series, which takes place at Matty Ts in Deer Park, NY. We will be performing Rockpile's classic LP "Seconds Of Pleasure" in its entirety, including the bonus EP for all you hardcore fans out there. We'll have some special guests as well. Should be a lot of fun!

This leads into the new year and Elvis Show 2010, which is already shaping up to be a great night. Mark your calendars - it all happens on Saturday, January 30th at a new venue, Hennesey's Bar & Grill in Huntington Station. The usual cast and crew, plus some new faces and a few old friends as well. I'm am happy to announce our line-up of backing bands: The Purple Gang, The Hornets, The Lone Sharks and The Blaggards - who are once again graciously donating their time and services for the cause. As always, every dime raised goe to help local food banks, and as you no doubt know, things are rough out there. I'm hoping for a big turnout so we can help out as many people as possible. More details soon!

Finally, The Blaggards will take over for Roy & The Buzzards on Saturday, November 28th at Matty Ts with two big sets of non-stop, non-shtick Rock AND Roll! Joining us with be The Vendettas and it all starts about 9:00PM. Come on down and work off that big T-day dinner. We promise to wipe out those Black Friday blues!

God, Crumb and The New York Yankees

A bunch of my friends are heading out east to see the East River String Band at the Stephen Talkhouse on Saturday night with special guests Robert Crumb and local hero Joe Lauro. I'll be staying home to watch the Yankees hopefully gain passage to the World Series. I mean, I like that old timey crap as much as the next guy, which translates into "not so much" and even I did like it more than that I would be hard pressed not be at the bar watching the game anyway - as I am sure many will be doing.

Much more interesting is Crumb's latest book, "The Book Of Genesis" an illustrated version of the first book of the Bible. I have always enjoyed Crumb's work and certainly gained a new level of fascination with both the man and his work after seeing Terry Zwigoff's biopic. But I have to admit that after flipping through the book in my local bookstore, I was at first amused (not that I was looking for laughs) and then ultimately disappointed mostly in the fact that Crumb's art has remained largely unchanged. I guess I was looking for something a bit more than just what the book's title states - and that's not truly delivered. This isn't an artist interpreting the Bible, it's someone drawing the Bible and not inserting much of himself in the process. I read in a few interviews that he "just illustrated what is there." Maybe so, but what a lost opportunity - and how incredibly boring a process for both the artist and the reader. Don't get me wrong - I was not looking for Mr. Natural to make an appearance or for Eve to look like Devil Girl - although all the women he draws pretty much look all alike. I was hoping that a project of this scope would bring some new energy into his work. In the end, all we get is what we already know - both about Genesis and Robert Crumb.