I know I just played Uncommon Ground last month, but I assure you that my show there this Saturday night (3/13) is going to be radically different. Let me count the ways, and you can judge for yourself…

1. Up first will be the bluegrass stylings of Nathan Blake Lynn. A veteran of psych-country group Bawn in the Mash, Nathan’s recently-launched solo career holds to a rootsier ground. He is the real deal, as performance footage from the Kentucky Opry on his website will attest. Very excited to play with him.
2. Then when I’m up, I will not be alone. My twin brother Scott (a.k.a. The Monologue Bombs) and I will be doing it “round-robin” style, going back and forth, playing (accordion, piano, who knows) and singing on each others’ stuff as we go along. Nathan might even join us on a Steve Earle and/or Johnny Cash song, if we can get it together. Speaking of which…
3. Scott and I will be doing a cover of The Bevis Frond’s “He’d Be a Diamond,” and there may be other covers in the offing. Plus…
4. I’m only repeating one original song from the last show, and…
5. I have a new guitar. And it is sexy. And it sounds amazing.

All told, this should be a great — if not downright magical — night of music. Come on out if you can. That’s Uncommon Ground at the corner of Clark and Grace in Wrigleyville, this Saturday 3/13.  Tunes start at 10:00, but come early for dinner and/or drinks.  (Reservations at 773-929-3680.)

Seems Like Yesterday...

Just a brief announcement about the recordings of my previous bands, The Boy Wonder Jinx and Rotary Ten. It’s been about a year since the re-launch of this site, which coincided with my making some of that “old stuff” available for purchase via PayPal. The lovingly assembled physical CD-Rs will remain for sale, but it seems like most hard-core “baby Dan” fans have gotten theirs by now, so I’ve decided to make the mp3 versions of this stuff available for (free) download, too. Check out the Rotary Ten retrospectives (Spelled Out and Adopt a Highway), as well as the pair of BWJ full-lengths (The Problem with Fun and Left Handed Smoke Shifter) in the Recordings section in the side-bar. And thanks! And enjoy!

Last night I thought the bottom two strings sounded clattery and thin, then I remembered that I hadn’t changed them since I bought it. Perfectly good strings, but I usually go for much heavier gauge down there, for the two-string songs I play. In truth, even during six-string songs, I believe I’ve adjusted my playing to maximize the thickness difference — gentle rhythms on the low end, with stray sparks of tone up high. I’m not really a picker; I don’t play riffs or lines. My style is definitely more of a wash, but I’d like to think it’s a slightly deliberate one.

What’s funny about playing the Jazzmaster is that, confronted with how legitimately “different” it sounds, in the moment I either twiddle knobs and change strings to make it sound something like the way it used to…or I alter my playing once again, adjusting my songs to the new sonic contours. But when I’m not in the thick of a practice, psyching myself out, when I first strap that thing on and play a simple chord… I know that this guitar is, in all objective senses, a far superior instrument to anything I’ve ever owned. Each string rings out more roundly and true, and the clarity holds at any volume.

It reminds me of this time back in Raleigh when I was painting houses. After a string of apartment jobs with conservative, faded colors applied with a comparatively relaxed standard of quality, we got a north side dining room where dramatic red walls had to be cut into a high-gloss crown molding. After a morning of shaky lines, a co-worker of mine said, “Damn thing makes me feel like I can’t paint!”

So I think that’s really what’s going on here. The damn Jazzmaster makes me feel like I can’t paint. But I think if I stick with it, then as now, I’ll come out of it a better painter than before. Wish me luck, and patience.

Tastee Lixx!

My quest for a new, “real” guitar came to an unexpected but totally awesome end this past Friday.  I’d been trawling on eBay — I almost closed on a Les Paul Special a couple weeks ago, in fact.  But I always kept Guitar Works in the back of my mind.  That’s the guitar shop in Evanston where my friend (and sometimes-ZP-drummer) Larry works.  Larry’s kept an open invitation for me to come up and see what they have; it’s just taken this long for the stars (and budgets) to align…

It’s a great, friendly store in a slightly grungier area of Evanston that I’d forgotten exists.  Larry steered me towards a couple of Gibsons, because that’s what I thought I wanted.  You see, I’m not much of a gear-head, and to be totally honest, I always stayed away from Telecasters and the like for the simple (dumb) fact that I didn’t like the way they looked.  Journey, AC/DC — these are the Gibson-playing bands, and their axes looked as substantial as their sound.  By contrast, the highest-profile Fender player I knew of was Springsteen, who you can never hear above all those drums and saxophones anyway.

So I’m sitting in the shop, trying out some Gibsons and Gibson-esque guitars through the most basic amp Larry can find.  They sound pretty good, and the necks are basically what I’m used to.  Then out of nowhere, Larry very nonchalantly hands me this Fender Jazzmaster.  Not to bore anyone even less technically inclined than me, but the Jazzmaster is a different Fender entirely from your Stratocasters and Telecasters.  I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves, but suffice it to say, it’s gorgeous in a far less symmetrical way.

Riff-ola!

And I wonder how much that look has influenced the fact that, in a sense, this is the indie rock guitar of choice.  Forget Journey — the Jazzmaster is what Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth play!  This is the guitar on the cover of Loveless, man!  In fact, to be completely honest, I’d always thought the Jazzmaster was actually a little too cool for someone like me…  But here it was in all its glory, and it was not outside of my budget, so I had to shake off my inferiority complex and just take that bull by the horns.  Besides, wasn’t this supposed to be about sound and feel and playability — not looks and image and cache?  Indeed it was.

But sometimes a flashy leather coat can be more than an accessory.  It can fit like a glove and keep you warm and hold your cellphone.  And not to stretch the metaphor too far, but this guitar was exactly THAT kind of coat.  It produced a clean, boomy sound, and with all the knobs and switches I could shift into more menacing timbres with ease.  Most importantly, it played like a dream.  It had a substantial body, which I like, and the neck was extremely comfortable.  My fingers just felt at home — no strangled bar chords, and the bottom two strings (very important to my playing) seemed to ring out for hours.

I tried a couple more guitars just to be safe, but I knew what I’d be going home with.  Thanks much to Larry and Guitar Works for a great experience.  Everyone else, look forward to the new and improved sound at my upcoming shows!  Yowza!

This song’s gone through many permutations, settling (as usual for me) into something that falls well short of the three minute mark, even when recorded with a full band. It seems like every time something pops into my head that could stretch to epic proportions — with solos and strings and intros and outros — I inevitably just hack away until it’s down to “single-length” or shorter. Maybe this is a good thing. I imagine that if I was actually on a label, I could waste a fair amount of their money downright FORCING songs like this to sound like Queen (or whatever). But I’m not, so I don’t. I’ll consider that a lucky thing.

This was recorded in December with John and Larry (at a session documented here). I sang a live vocal that seemed decent at the time, but in listening back it’s actually kinda “hot” (and not in a good way). Still, that’s what you’ll hear in this demo, with nothing really EQ’d or mixed with anything more than a concern for basic volume levels. I’ve already added piano and smoothed out the drums for what will eventually be the “real” version, but I wanted to post up something that would give a sense of the energy level of the trio recordings, which is pretty high! And awesome! And exclamation! Point! But seriously, the way this song explodes at the end is, to me, kinda thrilling…

Lyrically, there are references to intemperate weather which would give you an idea of the initial aim, specific-subject-wise. But thankfully, I ended up blending in stuff that’s less topical and more personal. Still a hard balance, those two. Let me know what you think.

here comes the sun

our paper route would start at dawn we’d
cause the cracks in winter lawns we’d
form of something formed of ice
the wonder twins like satellites

(back to) our nickel-gas-fueled happy home and
chocolate served in styrofoam and
canned applause and cereal
and golden static radio

(but now there’s) nothing left of the dial
i only hear you sing from files we
shine our stars with aerosol
and drown in never losing calls

october comes and we fall back the
storm windows still at half mast here
comes the sun in all its might
but you can’t tell me it’s alright

As I’d mentioned in a message to my email listers, I’ve had some of the best nights of my musical life at the original Uncommon Ground location in Wrigleyville. To be perfectly honest, I’ve had less-than-ideal shows there, too — including the last time I’d played there, three or four years ago. So I was going into Friday night fully prepared for a situation where I’d be merely “getting one under my belt,” if I had to.

To make a long story short, I didn’t have to. The (admittedly small) music room was standing room only at showtime, when Alain De Courtenay started. Alain was amazing, a singer of Jeff Buckley caliber, and while his songs were mostly soulful and introspective, he had an easygoing rapport with the crowd that put everyone at ease. After he closed with a cover of Etta James’ “At Last,” he was urged on to an encore.

I was a tad nervous after that. Not only was he a hard act to follow, but the encore made me wonder if the majority of the crowd was only there for him, if they’d exit as soon as he set down. Not so. Everyone stuck around, and I did it like this:

The Ballad of Roy G. Biv / I Wouldn’t Make You Happy / Jay / The Next Thing You Know / West of Western / Everybody Looks Like Somebody Else / Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (Smiths cover) / Here Comes the Sun / Stay (Shakespeare’s Sister cover) / The Oldies Station / Soda & Sympathy / Good as Gold / Spirit of 91 / Get on with It / Common People (Pulp cover)

The last two songs were encores, and I feel like I might’ve been overstaying my welcome a little bit with the last one, but Amy wanted to hear it, so I figured what the hell. I cracked many a joke with the crowd, too, which is not normally my strong suit. I tend to speak too quickly between songs, coming across as a total nervous wreck — if not just flat-out mentally unstable. But I’ve been trying to lighten up a bit as a performer, smooth things out, open myself up. And I think it’s starting to work.

This video of “The Oldies Station” — including preambly stuff — will give some sense of the feel of the evening. Thanks much to all in attendance!

I’ve been using the new tuner I got for Christmas (thanks, ma Stewart!), a Korg Pitchblack with “true bypass.” That last bit sounds very Christmas Story / Red Ryder, but in fact it’s really great. With my old tuner, even if I had it switched “off,” the battery would keep draining down unless I unplugged the cables from it. Not any more. That thing stays parked on the floor 24-7. And not only does it save on nine-volts, but the “true” bypass means that the signal isn’t weakened at all, even with a weak battery in there. It’s also way more readable, way more accurate, and it adjusts with my capo placement.

All of this tuning — the fact that I need to do it so much (never noticed as well before) — only underscores the cheapness of my guitar itself. But I’m working towards a solution. I’m saving up some money, and I plan on picking up something like a “real” version of the Gibson copy I rock currently. Aselin has given me some advice, knowing my needs and my budget, and so I’m on the lookout for an 80’s or 90’s Les Paul Special. An ebay search has been stored and is checked regularly. Here’s a pretty one from 1996:

Oooooooh!

Also in the works is an amplifier tune-up. This might end up making a bigger difference than a guitar upgrade. I have (currently visible in the header of this site, actually) a tube-driven head of indeterminate age, manufactured by a Chicago company that also made Silvertone amps. Apparently, they’d just slap different labels on everything they made — but the quality was uniform, and decent. It’s a pretty good amp, is what I’m saying, and I’ve never had it serviced. And it’s about time.

I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to show a little care and attention in the area of gear. I hesitate to say it, but it’s like I’ve finally accepted that I’m a “real” musician, after a whole life of being “just a singer” or someone who writes short, sketchy songs because I “don’t really know what I’m doing.” No, man, no. This is just what I do. And it could stand to sound better. And so it will. Trust me.

Tear Down The Wall!

I went all-out nutty with gig-grubbing emails at the very beginning of the year, and for a while there I was worried that I’d get exactly NO bites, but no! I mean yes! I have a show back at the Uncommon Ground in Wrigleyville on Friday 2/5. And there are slight feelers out for stuff in March, both in and out of Chicago. Oh, and a little feeler out for a possible Cleveland showing in April. So it turns out that my Merge-book-reading prediction is coming true. Perseverance will eventually lead you to gigs, and gigs themselves will show you which venues / folks / scenes are appropriate for you. Elementary Watson, and all that. The only hitch being that it’s a slow process, and a very rusty engine to turn over if you’ve been away for a few years. I’ll forgive myself my impatience, if you forgive me my absence (all three of you reading this).

Meanwhile, my actual paying gig has gotten strange. In September of 2001, I took my first non-private sector job, working for a group within the group that I currently work for. I sat in a cubicle in the South Loop, and though the work was sort of menial, I was happily salaried, and it was here that I first tapped into my own “geek potential.”

Flash forward to 2009, and after a couple of misguided detours, I’m back working with basically the same organization, but with more responsibility / challenge / (dare I say) fun…and in a far better office space, right in the Loop. But due to some budget straining, in December our physical office was closed, and we were scattered to whatever desks could be scrounged in State and/or University buildings around the city. So guess where I landed? Exactly one cubicle north of of where I was in 2001. Also due to…the nature of grant-work, I guess…I’m one of two people working on a fairly data-intense project, and we both wear ALL of the hats — including data entry and (gulp) filing. So not only am I physically in the same place I was in 2001, but for huge chunks of time, I’m doing the same type of (yes I’m glad to BE employed, but let’s be honest — it’s kind of boring) work. The only difference is the upgrade from Discman (!!!) to iPod.

It’s like there’s been a fold in time. And the fold is reflected my musical life, too, since it’s been about that long since I tried to get my solo self “out there.” Zapruder Point was definitely at its most active when Tom and Casey were in the band, but before then, I did some solo gigs, and I remember being especially excited about writing and recording. This was the period when (the then-two-disc) Low Resolution was “out,” and all the American High songs were coming together, and in general the potential of songwriting — the throw-anything-at-it spirit — was very strong in me. I listened to Ted Leo on the Discman, tuning into the glory in spite of the drudgery surrounding me.

And now I listen to Vampire Weekend on the iPod and do the same. I gather paper cuts and feel the same hope and expansiveness, even as I’m soaked in fluorescent light. And yes, this is playing itself out in the songs I’m currently writing, where they’re coming in thick, and I’m just flinging ideas at them. Lyrics unparsed but pretty, shouts and squiggles, tempos slowed to silence. In short, I think I’ve got some live ones here, and I’m excited.

Stay with me.

Jump Around!

Amy said she felt like she was rolling the dice when she got me Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records just a couple days before Christmas. She knows I’m a geek, and she saw this book about some indie label that had been around for 20 years, so she impulse-purchased it. I was excited when I opened the thing — it’s packed with pictures and is gorgeously put together. But it was only when I actually started reading the thing on Christmas Day that it became apparent what a home run this was, gift-wise. (Together with the cigar box guitar, Amy gets an A+ this year.)

It was a roller-coaster of a reading experience, actually. At first, I was pretty jazzed to notice they’d interviewed some folks from the Raleigh scene at the time. Here were some people I actually knew, reminiscing about places I’d actually been to, celebrating a scene I’d actually…sort of…  That’s how I almost got sad for a couple days’ reading. The Boy Wonder Jinx was always on the fringe of the scene, never really as cool as the bands people cared about. It felt like we worked our asses off, though, sending our CDs to anyone we could think of, touring as much as we could afford. But we never really got the “breaks” we were hoping for.  I used to nurse pitiful thoughts about how we “must not be doing the right kinds of drugs,” or some such cynical nonsense…

It was like I could still taste the sour grapes.  But as I kept reading, the story of Merge Records proved to be so hopeful that it burned through all those memories like Vap-O-Rub through a head cold. I’ve also changed my ideas about music radically from when I was 25. I’m not really interested in being cool…or in being picked up…or in getting anything like a “break.” Don’t get me wrong — whenever I finish whatever this current batch of songs ends up being, I plan on sending it to labels with the same mechanical relish I’ve been bugging clubs for shows. But I’ll be doing it as a matter of course, my fingers nowhere near as tightly crossed.

Nowadays, while I’m not really interested in “making it” any more (“whatever that means,” as the Arctic Monkeys would helpfully add), I still want to get gigs and stay busy (as I’ve mentioned).  So in these last couple weeks of hustling for a show, throwing emails against the wall, weathering vague rudeness from strictly-business-minded people…it’s been heart-warming to read about Merge, who seem to be genuinely and simply excited about the music they put out. Surely there are people like this all over, at every level, contributing and supporting music because they’re passionate about it…? I’m bound to make contact with at least some of these types of people in Chicago, right? (I mean aside from musicians themselves — I’ve met plenty of “good guys” in that category already.)

This is the hope, anyway.  Meanwhile, I do recommend Our Noise in general. One, because of the hope described above, and the detailed look into the arcs of both Merge AND Superchunk, the band formed by Merge co-founders Mac and Laura. They’ve conducted their label and band careers with such integrity that any musician should just absorb it, learn it, live it. Two, because you get a geeky insight into the making of some classic records by Neutral Milk Hotel, Arcade Fire, Magnetic Fields, and more. Three, because the final chapter imagines a pivotal role for Merge and other independent labels as the inevitable downfall of the majors comes to pass.  I won’t attempt to paraphrase the sentiment here, but it was an exciting…well…merge…of old and new business models, and I for one will buy it!

As should you.  I’d be curious to know what you think.

Hey Good Lookin!

Snaps on Facebook elicited huzzahs and a request to see and hear it in action. So I just shot a quick video in my office doing ‘OX4′ by Ride. I dunno, those three chords sounded good all plucked out and banjo-y, and it’s fun to wring all the rock out of this post-shoegaze classic and reduce it to something that coulda been in Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas. Yes! Enjoy, and let’s have a helluva 2010!