Friday, January 30, 2009

Acronyms and Lo Mein

Last Friday (exactly 1 week ago, for you mathematicians) I finally got back ito the swing of thigs with my first "full set" (I use quotation marks because I still don't know what costitutes a full set) in roughly a month. For this show I was one of four acts for a dinner banquet/fundraiser (maybe) for a group called APABAPA, which stood for Asian Pacific American Bar Association of Pennsylvania. Upon learning the true meaning of the true meanig of the acronym (which I originally thought stood for Apples Pairs And Bananas Are Pure Awesome-which would have been at least 85% true) two things bothered me:

1) I was unsure what type of bar was being talked about in the acronym. That is to say, would I be playing to a whole crapload of drunks/bartenders in a dimly lit, smoke filled room while getting yelled at for reasons I don't understand or a bunch of lawyers. Unfortunately, it was the latter

2) The abbreviation of Pennsylvania in the Acronym was wrong. It's capital P lower case A... Pennsylvania is abbreviated Pa..... I don't know why that bothers me so much but it does

There was nothing really extraordinary about the show other than EVERYTHING (see what I did there?). First, playing sucked, pretty much everyone talked through/over everyone's sets. Normally I would have been upset about this but waiting for me after my set was at least $75 worth of Chinese food. WHAT? Normally (because I'm poor) I preffer to be paid in money rather than food... but as I was stuffing Shrimp Lo Mein into my pocket I really couldn't complain (for those of you who aren't street wise like me the going value of Lo Mein is through the roof).

After I had finished eating what was roughly 82% of my body weight in General Tsao's there was a lion dance which was quickly followed by a laser light show (ok, it was just a strobe light but it was still awesome).

I also tried a beer which was pretty much what would occur if Heineken and Soy Sauce got completely hammered one night, bumped uglies and Soy Sauce got knocked up,.Then, during the pregnancy Soy Sauce decided to experiment with Cocaine causingn irrevocable damage to the fetus. Then after it's birth, unable to deal with the severe mental and physical impairments of the bastard child Soy Sauce became physically abusive before evetually losing her mind and beig committed to an insane asylum. The beer was that awful.

Here is your horrible/nonsense song lyric(s) for the day courtesy of Regina Spektor's song "On The Radio" ( I have stared at the words in this song for what seems like countless hours and still have zero idea as to what it means (if it means anything)

This is how it works
It feels a little worse
Than when we drove that hearse
Right through a screamig crowd
While laughing up a storm
Until we were just bone
Until it got so warm
That none of us could sleep....

Take Care

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Open Mics

To put it plainly: I really can't recommend open mics enough. To both a seasoned musician and a kid who just started playing out open mics are one of the best tools available. Perhaps the best aspect of the open mic is the fact that there are absolutely no expectations. This means there is absolutely no pressure to perform. To the crowd you are just another douchbag with a guitar. It really is a low risk high reward atmosphere (just like $25 scratch off lottery tickets).

That being said, it really is a mixed bag. Some nights you are playingn to the most respectful, attentive crowd you could imagine. Other nights you are playing to a bunch of rowdy isatiable drunks. Still, even the bad nights give you experience and a way to hone your skills. I was going to give examples of the best and worst nights I've had on the open mic circuit, but for the sake of comedy I'll just list the worst/most unusual experiences I've had at open mics

#5-Exactly 2/3rds of the way through the 2nd song of the set a drunk woman walks up behind me to pick up some random item (don't know what it was nor do I care). Instead of going around the way she came (the way that didn't include getting in the way) she walks out right in front of me and trips over the microphone stand/chord. This wouldn't be too unusual if she didn't stop and then stand 2 feet from my face staring intently at me for the next 5 miutes while I played... and I mean INTENTLY. I ask her what the hell she's doing and she makes a fishy face at me before returning to her seat. I had never been more attracted to ayone

4-The only open mic I ever hosted was a resounding failure. The entire night could be summed up with this little story. The bass pedal for the drum kit went missing. The drummer was then asked if he could just kick the bass drum from a audience member. During the set the crowd was incredibly disrespectful (as they were all night) and just after I asked them to speak more quietly and be more attentive (which they actually paid attetion to) the drummer of the bad (who was no more than 115 lbs) went on a 15 minute tirade where he just cursed out EVERYONE. I half hoped he would end the rant with "I'm a man, I'm 40" but alas, he did not.

#3-After my first song a man who, suprisingly was not drunk, feels the need to tell everyone just what he thought of music. Just before I start my second song the man rushes on stage pushes me out of the way and let everyone know exactly what he thought of it. To top it all off his rumblings and grumblings were so incoherent I still don't know whether or not he enjoyed my music.

#2-Short but sweet. I announce that the next song is a cover and a woman who was a little off her rocker comes up and hugs me to say it's OK and to be honest, in that moment, I knew it would be

#1 When I step on stage the man asks me if I know any fleetwood mac covers (he asks for a particular song, the title of which escapes me). I tell him I do not. This cycle repeats before and after EVERY SINGLE SONG. I assure him that I know no fleetwood mac nor have I ever listened to him. He calls me a "fucking asshole" and a liar. After the set he said I was great and invited me out to drinks. I wanted to accompany him but was too bruised by his insults. 

Here are your awful lyrics for this entry courtesy of LFO... pretty much the entire song is incoherent nonsense which could be likened to drunken hobo ramblings but for brevity sake I''ll just post the third verse. So here it is, the third verse of "Summer Girls" taken directly from

Bugaloo shrimp and pogo sticks
My mind takes me back there oh so quick
Let you off the hook like my man Mr. Limpet
Thinka bout that summer and I bug cause I miss it
Like the color purple, macaronni and cheese
Ruby red slippers ad a bunch of trees
Call you up but what's the use
I like Kevin Bacon, but I hate Footloose
Came in the door I said it before
I think I'm over you but I'm really not sure
When I met you I said my name was Rich
You look like a girl from Abercrombie and Fitch


Thursday, January 8, 2009

It Never Fails/Drunk people on busses

It seems that no matter how I conduct myself, what clothes I am wearing or where I am going from or to, at least once a month, if I have my guitar with me I will most assuredly be bothered by someone yelling "Freebird!" too/at me. Let me start by saying I have never and will never play Freebird. First it was because I didn't like the song, now it's because I'm tired of having drunk assholes yelling it in the middle of my sets (sometimes in the middle of songs) because they think it's funny. It's not

As a result, from now on, whenever someone yells "Freebird!" while I am playing I will do one of 3 things:
A) Completely disregard then when he/she yells it again I will try to convince him/her that I played it but they weren't listening
B) State that I have never heard of freebird and ask the yeller to play it for me on the spoons
C) Assure everyone that I will play the song and then play "Take on Me" by Aha then try to convince everyone after the set that "Take on Me" and "Freebird" are actually the same song.

But I digress...

The latestet "Freebird" incident was one of the most awesome experiences of my life. Let me explain.

The last time I was bothered by a Freebirder was on the #9 bus going from center city to the outskirts of Philadelphia. I was headed to play a weeknight show at a coffee shop in the city's Roxborough section. The coffee shop is really nice but because of its location and the day I was to be playing I was not expecting much but I was pleasantly suprised with a decent sized crowd. But again, I digress

At the 16th and Walnut stop (roughly 2 blocks sw of City Hall) a very, very inebriated individual stumbled onto the bus. He looked at my guitar, then looked at me, then back to the guitar, then back to me and yelled "FREEBIRD!" almost proudly. For the next 15 minutes he tried to get me to join a band with him proving to me his sick guitar skills by playing air guitar and making "bwah bum bwahwahwah" noises with his mouth. I have to say I was impressed.

During his most shreddingest solo the man (who introduced himself as glen) peered down under his seat and found a half full (or for you pessimists, half empty) box of chocolate truffles. Glen went on to accuse everyone on the bus of being wasteful and, after nobody on the bus responded to him he called whoever left them "a fat pig." He then offered me the contents of the box. I declined.

For the next 10 minutes Glen gave me all of the reasons I should join a band with him which included (but were not limited to) his bitchin' guitar skills, the fact that he could consume alcohol, his former heroine addiction, his brand new cell phone and the fact that he could rock... HARD (the last reason is a conclusion that I came to myself)

At this point (roughly 5 minutes before my stop arrived) Glen leaned over during a solo or while showing me his brand new phone, I really don't remember why he leaned over but it's not important. What's important is he then fell and laid against me and did not get up for a good 3-4 minutes. At that moment I wondered if that's what being in a band with Glen would be like. Would we tear up every show with him shredding for a good 4 hours then we'd go back stage and he'd awkwardly/drunkenly pass out on me while I try to maneuver out of the situation? Because if that is the case sign me up!

From now on I will be ending every entry with lyrics from a song that are either incredibly bad, make no sense or are some other type of stupid... Your lyrics for today are from the song "The Joker" by Steve Miller. Please feel free to nominate some lines of horrible lyrics.

Youre the cutest thing
That I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Want to shake your tree
Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Ooo-eee baby, Ill sure show you a good time

Take Care

First Blog/Intro/Explaination for my Existence

So, I'm sure a lot of you (or to be more accurate, the five of you) are wondering why I figured my opinions, thoughts and experiences are blog worthy. To be honest, I really don't. I don't even quite understand what qualities make something blog worthy (or even what blog worthy means for that matter-I mean, for years I thought blogs were knock off legos or something like that). What I do know is that I am, to a certain extent, awesome and that everyone should read my silly anecdotes and humor my fragile ego (and eggos)

So, recently I've been watching a lot of those true story of musicians movies; you know, movies like "Walk the Line," "Ray" and "That Thing You Do" (it's a true story to me). After watching these 3 films back to back to back I went into a coma but after I woke up from said coma I had an epiphany. "What was that epiphany," you ask? Well, if you would calm down and let me continue my story I would come to that. This is a process and I can't just jump into every thought at your whim. Now I would have told you by now if you hadn't been so impatient. I hope you're happy

I realized that there are many, many stories about musicians but most of those stories focus on when the person is just about to make it big. So few have a focal point on when that person is starting out. The hard times playing shows to belligerent crowds for $5 which doesn't even cover the cab fare home. Being a musician who is struggling to get by I sort of got jaded at how easy these stories make it seem. Granted, I want to hear about the people who make it. But more importantly, I want to hear about their struggle to make it. I want to know that these big names had to deal with the same stuff that I do. That is why I'm starting this blog. I want to document the good and bad of trying to "make it" (noone's ever told me what "it" is, by the way) playing music and to provide some funny stories in the process.

I hope you enjoy!

Take Care
--Kevin Ricci