Tonight: My first gig.

Stagefright. I've always been a sufferer. Whether it's the boardroom presentation or the musical performance, the stagefright never gets any less. It isn't the debilitating hug-the-toilet-bowl-two-hours-before-showtime-and-wretch-till-I-taste-stomach-lining stagefright, but I FEEL those butterflies aaaall day.

You'd think I'd get over it with age. I mean, once you're in your thirties, there's very little at risk. What am I afraid of? There's no more pride, glory, 'face', reputation or street cred to cling on to. I'm a grizzled, salt-n-peppered, married, father of one. What do I care what the audience thinks?

Maybe it's the perfectionist in me. That fear of fucking up. People are sitting there expecting to listen to something good (at best) or at the very least not to be subjected to auditory torture that drowns out their conversation. I've left bars where the music was too loud and too bad, the performers too ugly. Is it payback time with me at the receiving end?

It probably looks quite easy to the clueless. Get up there, plug in my guitar, play the same 4 chords for 3 sets, 45 minutes each. Never mind if I sound as bad as Dylan, as long as people appreciate me for being as deep as Dylan. But no. I want to be Ritchie Sambora. C. C. Deville. Eric Clapton. Mark Knopffler. And my personal God, Slash. So I gotta be creative. Quick fingerwork, soulful licks, heart-thumping rhythm. Problem is, the more intricate you get, the higher the chances of bombing.

And this is realtime. No calling a halt so you can do the chorus again. No going back and finding that note you lost on the solo. Once the string vibrates, it is done. You've given life to your creation. Into the pickups, down the cable, pre-amp, power amp, speakers, boom. Out there to be appreciated or scorned. Eliciting open-mouthed 'O's of wonder or turning the corners of lips downward in disgust.

So tonight is my first gig. It seems to be a day of firsts. A long time ago someone whose opinion I value very highly asked me when am I going to write something for myself, instead of just using other people's words.

Well, here it is.

Wish me luck. And hope my fingers don't slip.

Maybe someday your name will be in lights 

Saying, "Johnny B Goode Tonight"

                                        - Chuck Berry, "Johnny B Goode"

Is there really a difference?

An oft-recurring, overdone, superficial and dull theme in the genre of "Rock Ballad". It's got Slash on guitar, so I fucking love it.

I highly recommend the Slash/Myles Kennedy version recorded live in Stoke.

Take a look what are you seeing?

Is that a noose or a wedding band?

                                         - Slash's Snakepit, "Beggars & Hangers On"

Tom Waits. Need I say more?

It is almost impossible to pick a one-liner (or two-liner, really) from a Tom Waits song. The chaos of his music only makes sense when it's all glued together, creating a sense of unraveling reality the first time you listen to a track and then - as your soul recovers from the shock of being exposed to the output of his twisted mind - the feeling morphs into a combination of intellectual appreciation and emotional pleasure.

Referring to the war (in the Middle East, I presume):

How is it that the only ones responsible for making this mess,

Got their sorry asses stapled to a god damned desk

                                        - Tom Waits, "Hell Broke Luce"

Good advice for the pessimist

And I think you need

To stop following Misery's lead

                                        - Anna Nalick, "Shine"

A more accurate description of clergy I have yet to come across

Fussing and flapping in priestly black

Like a murder of crows

                                        - Sting, "All This Time"

Of COURSE It Was Her Fault!

How could you trust your private eyes, girl?

That's why you don't believe my lies

                                        - "Shut Up", Black Eyed Peas

Angst

Defined in the dictionary as:

a feeling of dread, anxiety or anguish.

Defined in music by the following. Note the need for both an anguish-filled voice and heart-breaking, gut-wrenching lyrics in equal parts:

I can't keep holding on

To what you've got

When all you've got is hurt

                                        - U2, "One"

And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me

You couldn't stand to be near me when my face don't seem to wanna shine

'Cause it's a little bit dirty

                                        - Matchbox 20, "Push"

Oh my God, you can't believe, it's happening again

Your baby's gone and you're all alone and it looks like the end

                                        - Eagles, "Wasted Time" 

When it's good, then it's good, it's so good 'til it goes bad
'Til you're trying to find the you that you once had
I have heard myself cry, "Never again"
Broken down in agony just trying to find a friend
                                        - P!nk, "Sober"

If she ever tries to fucking leave again
Gonna tie her to the bed and set the house on fire
                                        - Eminem, "Love the Way You Lie"

Beautiful music, soulful voice & brilliant gutter lyrics.

What kind of fuckery are we?

Nowadays you don't mean dick to me

                                          - Amy Winehouse, "Me and Mr. Jones"

A musical genius who never lived long enough - and was never sober long enough - to tap her raw talent. May her tortured soul live in peace.

Then again, if she wasn't so tortured, would her music have been so brilliant?

Amazing voice, amazing song

The pistol now as prophet, the bullet some kind of Lord and King,

But pain is the only promise that this so called Savior's gonna bring

                                        - Ray Lamontagne, "How Come"

He strangles his girlfriend then shoots himself. How romantic. He the man.

And love is evol (evil)

Spell it backwards I'll show ya

                                        - Eminem, "Spacebound"

Original by the Rolling Stones. This cover is my favourite

I'll be in my basement room

With a needle and a spoon

And another whore to take my pain away

                                        - Guns 'n' Roses, "Dead Flowers"

He was enterprising before he was multi-platinum

This one's a tongue twister even when it's being written down!

I'm that brother* that sold coke, the brother that sold dope

The brother that shot dice, went broke and sold soap

                                        - 50 Cent, "Life's on the line"

*offensive words have been replaced with ones that won't get me killed.

How's this for sexual innuendo?

You've got a way of coming over me,

Like rain

                                        - Liz Longley, "Rush"

But jokes and double entendres aside, this is one great song, both musically and lyrically. Highly recommended!

He means, "Bastard"

I'll have your mama pickin out your casket,

Bastid

                                        - 50 Cent, "What Up Gangsta"

Extramarital

His ring is on your finger

But my heart is in your hands

                                        - Bon Jovi, "Damned"

Mayer. From his Jennifer Aniston album

Think we'll never fall into the jealous game?

The streets are flood with blood of those who felt the same

                                        - John Mayer, "Friends, Lovers or Nothing"

Honesty. Always the best policy.

I just wanna take you out and get you drunk

So I can have my wicked way with you

                                        - Ben Taylor, "Wicked Way"

How do you say "no" to this proposal?

Together can never be close enough for me to feel that I am close enough to you

You wear white and I'll wear out the words I love you

and

Promise me, you'll always be happy by my side

I promise you, I'll sing to you when all the music dies

                                        - Train, "Marry Me"

Written for my grandmother's memorial

Contented soul, well of laughter

Song-filled heart, gentle voice,

Soothing hands, clasped in prayer

Matriarch of grace and poise

 

Slow decline, hands a-tremble,

Forgiving heart, inspiring will

Watchful for as long as able

Remembered now, a comfort still

                                         - jdanthony, November 2007

 

                                        

Of Chastity and Catholicism

Come on Virginia, don't make me wait

You Catholic girls start much too late

                                        - Billy Joel, "Only the Good Die Young"

Nature vs Silicone

He used to do surgery

For girls in the eighties

But gravity always wins

                                        - Radiohead, "Fake Plastic Trees"

What's in a name?

I'm doing enrollment and visa requests for two candidates from Sri Lanka. 

Their names are both unpronounceable, and 14 and 15 syllables respectively. Which may seem a lot to you, until you consider that my dad, who is also Sri Lankan but born and bred in Malaysia, has a name of 23 syllables.

Seems to be a national epidemic. Thank God for the copy and paste function. 

I think if Lankans are required by law to shorten their names, it would improve their national productivity, and hence increase their GDP by a huge percentage. Besides the time taken writing them down, don't forget the amount of time, toner and ink used in the printing of bank statements, tax forms, phone bills, etc.

People who work in and with the country often mention how long it takes to get things done, and how inefficient Sri Lankans seem. I've just discovered the cause behind this tarnished reputation. Its all the time taken writing down names.

Imagine being a class monitor in school, taking names of those that misbehave. Never mind education standards in Singapore, THAT'S how you induce stress at a young age.

My dad gets evil stares from government personnel who need to fill out his name in official forms. The other complication is the fact that most offical forms don't have enough squares to fit his whole name.

There are many things you are thankful to your parents for. Most of them are quite common, i.e. roof over your head, food in your stomach, your first Barbie/Transformer, introducing the birds and the bees as briefly as possible and not going into the details of how many different ways mom and dad can do it.

I have a unique one. I am eternally and unsurpassably grateful to my father for disregarding naming conventions and shortening mine to just 7 syllables.

Happy Father’s Day, daddy.

I sang this song at a talentime thing when I was three. It was a small town.

I was raised in the canebreak by an old mama lion

Ain't no high toned woman make me walk the line

                                        - Tennesee Ernie Ford, "Sixteen Tons"

The Death of Kwai Chang Caine (originally written on June 5th, 2009)

Let's face it. Ask anyone, and David Carradine would not come up on their list of top ten best male leads. Probably not even on their top twenty list. Despite this, Mr. Carradine was an icon, and remains a legend.

His roles were varied and oft times eccentric, but the one I (and most of my generation) probably remember him for is the role of Kwai Chang Caine from the tv series "Kung Fu". Affectionately called Grasshopper by his Shaolin masters, the line I'll always remember is, "I am Caine. I will help you." This line was always delivered in his deadpan, expressionless way (something he unfortunately took to all his acting roles, although he tried his hardest to emote), but as Caine, a righteous Shaolin monk leading a life of discipline and self-sacrifice, it was particularly....appropriate. He did not help because he was emotionally affected by the injustice of this week's episode, nor because he saw an opportunity for personal fulfillment. It was just the right thing - the humane thing - to do; helping a fellow man/woman in need.

But Kwai Chang Caine is dead. I remember a time in my life when I wanted to be a Shaolin monk walking barefoot through the Americas, playing my flute at night when I'm lonely and saying, "I am Caine, I will help you" to all these beautiful damsels in distress. I also related to his guilty conscience after he'd shagged some of those damsels. Like Catholic priests (or single Catholic men), Shaolin monks are apparently supposed to be celibate. I've since got over that particular hang-up, while catholic priests have found a workaround (altar boys). Sorry, can't help it, especially with all the news coming out of the Irish investigations.

However, I've decided to do a tribute to Mr. Carradine. I asked Sir Elton if he'd help, but he was otherwise occupied, so I decided to do it myself. Long live the legend.

Goodbye Carradine,
Though I never knew you at all,
You had the grace to hold yourself,

As they stormed the temple walls,

Ran off to the New World

Where you helped the weak and the small

With all your constant flashbacks,

You still had time to do it all

And it seemed to me, you lived your life

Like a Shaolin in the wind

Never giving up or leaving

Til the good guys win

Though I would’ve liked to’ve known you

But I was just a kid

They took “Kung Fu” off the airwaves

But your legend will always live.

                                        - Music by Sir Elton John, "Candle in the Wind"

                                          (if you haven't already guessed)

Dedicated to the Notorious B.I.G

I ain't got no motherfucking friends

That's why I fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker

                                        - 2Pac Shakur, "Hit 'em Up"

Where, pray tell?

I took my time, I aimed real good,

And I shot him where a smart girl would

                                        - Liz Longley, "Gun & the Gold"

Shakespeare (accurately) condensed

Now you say, "Oh, Romeo, yeah"

"You know I used to have a scene with him"

                                         - Mark Knopfler, "Romeo & Juliet"