Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Are you feelin it?

When I first met my buddy, Dave, we were at Happy Hour at Saint Rocke. I asked him what kind of music he was into.


"Really? That's all you listen to?"

"I like other stuff too. But I really love Beck."

"Have you ever seen him Live?"


"Well, me neither. But I'm sure it's amazing..."

We traded stories about some of the best festivals we'd been to, and it turns out we had similar tastes: iconic jam bands, old school punk, new school electronic...Since then, he's been my concert bro for some pretty epic bands. Every time I have an extra ticket, I call Dave. He's always down. And when word got out that Beck was playing a Hurricane Benefit nearby, Dave knew we had to be there. I didn't even have to ask.

Downtown Los Angeles was buzzing with the presence of some of Hollywood's most well known celebs. When heavy hitters like Will Ferrell and Aziz Ansari are involved, it's a circus. People were laughing, chatting, taking pics, and videotaping every detail with their I-phones.

But when Beck came onstage and played, Lost Cause, everyone just stopped.

I don't think I've ever been more moved by a performance.

And when his set was over, I looked over at Dave. He had the most peaceful smile on his face. I can't even explain it.

He said, "Welp, I can die happy now." I couldn't speak (for fear I'd burst out crying uncontrollably). I wiped the tears off my face, and just nodded. Unbelievable.

 That, my friends, is what live music is supposed to do. Stop whatever the hell you're doing or thinking about, and listen. Listen with your heart.

Whether it be joy, sadness, pain, anguish, fear, or freedom....feel something. Anything.

I mean, fucking feel it.


Monday, December 3, 2012

What's In A Name?

"Who the hell is Fartbarf"

A text I received from my buddy, Robbie, in New Orleans.

My response: "They're fucking sick. 3 dudes in psych ward jumpsuits and gorilla masks...heavy bass, minimal vocals, and a cult-like following....aka the badass new band you'll hear more about soon."

"Shitty name."

"Not even the shittiest band name I've heard this week."

That last part is true. I've definitely heard worse band names than Fartbarf. (I used to manage the band, Stinky Pinky, for god's sake.) Yesterday at a tattoo shop in Maryland, I met a cute punk rocker who gave me some of his CDs. His band name: The Rapists. I cringed when he told me that.

"Actually, we are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Rapists."

OOOOh, that makes it soooo much less offensive!! (The only thing more offensive were his lyrics. I'll spare you the details. But picture GG Allen on meth. Wow.)

You know, I might not LOVE the name Fartbarf, but I respect it. Basically, because they don't give a fuck what I think about their band name. In fact, Fartbarf is unwilling to change, for anyone. They've had some big labels show interest in signing them, only on the condition they consider changing it. Nope. They just shake their head and stand firm. They found a formula that works.

And believe me, it works. They pack the house. I'm super stoked for their next show at SR (Dec 14). If you've never seen them live, you owe it to yourself to experience this phenomenon. It's fucking radical.

Love the name Fartbarf, or hate it...but you'll remember it. And talk about it the next day.

If you ask me, that's what every band name needs to accomplish. Be original. Be memorable. Make people talk.

And, hey, at least it's better then The Rapists.