Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Rocke Block

I'm not supposed to talk about this. 

But I guess I'll tell you the truth. We can be real, right?

Not long ago, I was experiencing what you might call, "writers block". Maybe I should call it 'Rocke Block'. 

I wanted to blog about Saint Rocke. Believe me, at any given moment, I usually have so much to say. I sat in front of my laptop. Typing 'blah blah blah'...hoping something unique and amazing would ensue....But, for at least 2 weeks, I thought to myself: 'I can't spend another minute writing about Saint Rocke. Every single second of my life is consumed by the show'. I was in such an intense groove with marketing and booking and events. I stopped processing the daily activities of my own life. I was always here. Bills were overdue. The sole contents of my fridge was a block of cheese and expired milk. I even paid my rent on the 18th. (Not because I'm irresponsible. I 'conveniently prioritized'). haha  Anyway, it felt like I was always looking ahead to the next big event. My life was quickly becoming less about "Who is KT and what is she doing on any given day" to "So-and-so is playing tonight. Do you need tix? Tables? Bottle? Party? Who's party? Your party? 40 people? Sat? No problem. Meet and greet? Deadline? Holiday? Private event?" 

Non. Stop. All. Day. Long. 

It's my job. It's my passion. It's my world. But hey. blows. 

See? Told you I'm not supposed to write this stuff. ;)

BUT here's where it gets interesting. The other night, I was feeling so anxious, I had to get out of town. I ventured to the far-off land ofHollywood. I longed to see the bluegrass band I've been obsessed with since high school: Leftover Salmon. (Google them immediately, or we aren't friends. Seriously.) The show was incredible. (Have you ever seen a mandolin player use a slide? Me neither. Leftover blew my freaking mind.) Anywho: I returned to the post-show parking garage shenanigans: still grinning, slightly buzzed, and feeling very chatty. I started talking/smoking with some tie-dyed dudes nearby. We talked about the band, the amazing encore, the next show in San know, the usual. 

Soon, the dynamic duo asked me where I lived.

"Hermosa Beach." 

"Cool town! We saw ALO at a RAD club in Hermosa not long ago. It was FUCKING AWESOME."

??? *** !!!!!!!    Wait...what?

My chest puffed out, and I was a proud little peacock.

I said, "That's MY club, bro."

Right then and there: it's all worth it. 

Every headache. Every meeting. Every gamble. Every early morning/ late night combo. Every last minute, on the fly, make-it-work, show must go on, drama-rama that is driving me fucking insane on a daily basis....

Every show. 

It's all fucking worth it.  

And just like that: I was inspired.

(maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh.)


Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Grammys

The Grammys are the Superbowl of Music. The Big Leagues. The Real Deal. The Whole Enchilada.

It's hard to be a part of the music industry and not have an opinion on this major event. Not only do I watch, sometimes, I cry. It's like you're seeing someone's wildest dreams come true: LIVE. on national television.

Since I am not a musician myself, I will never understand what it feels like to win music's most coveted prize. BUT I really wanted to know. 

So, I called a Grammy winner: my good friend, John Popper.

"Hey dude. I'm writing a blog about The Grammys, and I need your help. You won a Grammy, right, John?"


"Care to elaborate?

"Too sleepy now. I'll text ya later."

"Dammit John! I'm on a deadline! We all know you're a wordy mother-f*cker. Just tell me about it."

"Okay, okay...So  it was 1995, and the category was 'Best Rock Vocal Performance by a Duo or Group'. I was sure DMB was gonna win for 'What Would You Say' and since I played on that song, too, I was ready to run up to the stage and cause trouble. I was already out of my seat as they were announcing the winner. When I heard 'Blues Traveler', I was so shocked, I popped my knee out. I couldn't even walk! I hopped up to the stage, and didn't even remember my speech. It was pretty awkward, but awesome at the same time. Awesomely awkward."

"Wow! I didn't know you played on that song too. Geez, showoff."

"I know. I know."

"One question: which was cooler: winning a Grammy or losing your virginity?"

He hung up on me. I guess he really was tired :)

Wow! What a story! I've seen DMB like 15 times, but I can't imagine even meeting Dave or being featured on his most famous song. But beating him for a Grammy?? Surreal. What's cool about John's story is that he not only performed that song, he wrote it. And he pulled from his real life experiences. A lot of artists today are amazing performers, but the list of song writers is usually a long one. I think his song hit home to so many people because it's real. You can feel his pain in every lyric. Genius. Score one for the Grammy committee of 1995. They were on point.

I can't wait to watch what happens this year. Who's heart will be shattered and who'll come out on top. I checked out the nominees and there are some really tough decisions to be made. How do you choose between "Call Me Maybe" and "We Are Young" for the best song??? Both are such breakout hits. It's a doozy!

We are rolling out the red carpet at Saint Rocke, and making a huge deal about it. Gift bags, contests, prizes, bottomless champagne...It's like P Diddy's afterparty: minus the yacht.

See you this Sun. Doors 6PM. Suit up.