Huffblog

2014 Donna Day: "Her Name Is Donna"

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 26 Feb 2014 04:00:00 +0000

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I went to college with some pretty amazing people. One of these people was a guy named Jeremy Hornik. He frequented the theater and film departments (as did I), was my TA for an intro film lecture class, and was a generally all-around nice guy who I was always glad to see and talk to. Always had something wry and funny to say.

One of my favorite Jeremy stories was the way he saved my January road trip of 1993 from going off the rails. I had planned an extensive road trip, visiting friends and relatives between upstate NY and Wichita, KS (home of my college housemate). I'd drive out there, pick up Tres, and we'd rock on down the road talking music and life like a couple of beat wannabes. On the way I was visiting my long-distance girlfriend who lived in Chicago. Well...long-distance relationships are hard enough for grownups let alone kids, and after her refusing to let me sleep in the same bed with her because her other boyfriend had just left the day before (all information I learned on arrival) and then me fooling around with her roommate a little for revenge but mostly because her roommate was a smart, funny, charismatic hottie paying attention to me unlike my "girlfriend", I found myself being asked to leave several days earlier in Chicago early one morning. Who do I know in Chicago? I may have actually called someone to ask them and the answer came back "Jeremy Hornik". I got in touch with Jeremy and called him. These were the days before cell phones, so I was relying on land lines and pay phones. I said, "I'm breaking up with my girlfriend, can I come stay with you for a night or so?" He said, "That's perfect, I just lost my job. Come over." He had been working in the box office for Gilligan's Island: The Musical which closed. He showed me a drawing or two he'd done - one was titled "Mary-Ann Runs Amok" where the wholesome lass went on a killing spree. We went to the Chicago Zoo either that day or the next day and trundled about in the cold, feeding the squirrels from a park bench. It was appropriately bleak. The soundtrack to most of that road trip was Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska". I appreciated the friendship, the dark humor, and Jeremy's positivity. I left Chicago feeling pretty hopeful and together.

You never think when you graduate college about the ways people's lives will touch you later. I don't think anyone envisions themselves getting divorced, getting a disease, or going through agonizing physical and/or emotional pain. We all seem invincible and ready to conquer the world. Some do conquer the world. But most of us just live fairly normal lives. Like Rick Danko of The Band said once in an interview, "I used to say I wanted my music to change the world, but now I'm just happy if it improves the neighborhood." His music did change the world though, so he is a bad example.

Anyway, fast forward to many years later where Jeremy had a daughter the same age as mine. Her name was Donna. I was in touch with Jeremy early on on Facebook, and one day found out quite by accident that Donna had cancer. My experiences with cancer were few. My grandmother had beaten breast cancer. I'd never known anyone personally who'd had it. I'd been around chronic disease, though, for most of my life in my close family. I'd also known of one small child (distant relative of friend) who'd died in a freak accident, and my best friend had died in a car accident. So I knew death and I knew disease, but not cancer. This story and their journey hit home. Mainly because I had and still have trouble with the fact that Jeremy was one of the highest-quality people I knew. It just didn't seem fair that this was happening to him. He'd fed the squirrels with me! He was a great guy! Surely there was some kind of karma for these kinds of things. I was assuming his wife was of similar excellent calibre and she most definitely was once I had friended her as well. Also, I still to this day believe that the greatest pain a human being can suffer is the death of a child from the parent's perspective. Many call parental love the highest form of love. There are twisted exceptions, of course, but it's awful. Parents should never have to watch their children die. The parents die first, that's how things "should" be and unfortunately as we all know isn't necessarily how it goes.

I followed the whole cancer story as it was progressing and felt extremely helpless. When I feel helpless, I take action the way I know how: music. I just assumed that Donna being a kid might like a song with her name in it, and whatever I could do to ease the pain of what the family was going through...well I wanted to try. I set out to create a happy kind of fantasy where everyone was dancing and things were happy. While I was writing it, I learned that Donna had taken a turn for the worse, and in fact I think was sent home with most treatment being discontinued. I wanted her to hear the song before she died, and thus quickly dashed off a recording. It's nowhere near what I was envisioning in terms of production and one day will hopefully finish it off the way it deserves. But here was the extremely gratifying response I got:

Donna, what would you like to say to Chris who wrote you this song?

I'd say something sweet, like the song he wrote.

Would you say thank you?

(Donna nods her head.)

What do you think about the song?

It's good. It is. It's funny. La, la, la, la, la . . .

Chris - Donna asked to listen to this before bed tonight after one of her favorite books, Llama Llama Red Pajama. Just wanted you to know that it is already well loved in our home.

The lyrics are below. You can listen to the song here: Her Name Is Donna

Donna died peacefully on October 19, 2009, many many years too soon, but surrounded by a universe of love. Today is Donna Day in her memory. Money is being raised for her charity Donna's Good Things, and there is a St. Baldrick's headshaving event planned at Candelite Chicago on March 29th. So I'm just trying to improve the neighborhood by spreading the word.

Click this link to sign up / donate:

Donna's Good Things Event

HER NAME IS DONNA

Her name is Donna

She rides a llama

In the Bahamas

With her mama

And her daddy

He has a caddy

He is a rich man

They call him “Sultan”

Her name is Donna

She’s got more knowledge

Than an ostrich

Who went to college

Up in Cambridge

She’s a great dancer

And a romancer

When she smile all

The people start singing

“Her name is Donna”

Her name is Donna

She and her mamma

They go to Ghana

With their iguana

Her last name’s Hornik

But she’s no nudnik

She fly around like

Shiny Sputnik

“Her name is Donna”

She has a brother

He is a baby

His name is Jay jay

He is a cutie

My name is Chris and

And I wanna say that

I’m glad to meet you Miss Donna

“Hello, I’m glad to meet you. I went to college with yo daddy”

Video

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 08:44:00 +0000

My latest creation. Enjoy!

Rain

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 02:48:00 +0000

I don't mind.

Money

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 20:27:00 +0000

Did the spending plans this morning. Sacrificed sleep. My health is to the point where I feel like I can do that again occasionally. Felt good to have it done. Plus I got to socialize with my DM homies on the FB. Respect.

Focus

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 06:12:00 +0000

Most of my life, my biggest obstacle to achieving my goals has been my tendency to procrastinate.

Though many tell me that it's not as bad as I make it out to be and according to most outside observers I actually do quite a lot.

But I feel I though I "do" many things and get very little accomplished in the end. So I try to load up on motivational stuff like Gary Ryan Blair's 100 Day Challenge, my man Les Brown, Stin the Thought Coach....and it helps.

It's hard as a self-employed person to find a balance between working and resting. So I'm working on follow through and focus. Here's a little "Hocus Pocus" by Focus to help your day run smooth.

Scurry

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 21:32:00 +0000

Last November, my daughter got a hamster for her birthday. She'd been wanting a pet so badly, and while guinea pigs are more cuddly they also smell worse. Used to breed g. pigs when I was a lad.   Teryn promptly named the hamster Scurry Nibble Huff.

Though she is a little young for a hamster, I thought we could learn a little responsibility and share in the joy of the family pet. Plus hamsters are nocturnal so I would have a nighttime companion, a rodent by choice, not one of the "free" rodents that roamed about the kitchen until we plugged up the holes with steel wool (and until the local mouse community learned about the Mighty Linda, destroyer of mice, breaker of mouse necks, the Terminator.)

Teryn helps clean the cage, we take her out and pet her, and we also let her roam the house in the hamster ball.   While T can't be unsupervised with her, she talks to her quietly and is gentle. So far the hamster has been uneventful.

Until this morning. Awoken in a panic. T woke up to find the hamster cage open and Scurry gone. Which was very strange as I had heard her in her wheel when I went to bed at 4 AM (yes, I am nocturnal too). Hammo had somehow pushed the door open, probably flopped onto the towels below, and took off.   Free at last!   The steel wool was moved in one part of the kitchen so clearly she had gone under the stove.   After about an hour of managing a weepy T and wandering the house with a carrot trying to cajole the wanderer out, we were giving up.   We left the cage open on the floor with a full food dish in case she came back.   Chances are when she got hungry, she'd come back. Linda and I discussed what would happen if she encountered mice. Not happy.

I got a weird hit on my phone (I have a Google alert for Chris Huff music), and nothing was coming up on the page, so I went to my office to check it out on the computer. T was still calling "Scurry...Scurry" in the living room.   Sitting on the POD XT Live underneath my Gibson ES-335 (good taste btw Scurry) was a very alert hamster, a dust bunny hanging off her whiskers. I would have said little, but the thing has multiplied exponentially since arriving chez Huff.

So many decisions for her to make. "I love being free." "But I am hungry." Who knows what goes through the mind of the escaped hamster. "Look, Ma, top of the world!" She fussed as I picked her up, but mainly because I didn't give her the carrot. Within minutes the crisis was averted, hamster was returned to her cage, and Daddy was the Hamster Hero. Scurry dove into the food dish. Twisties on the cage door should prevent further unsupervised adventures.

Hamster.

Hamster butt.

The proud owner and her hammo sharing an apple.

Bruce (brooooooooce)

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 22:26:00 +0000

Some gigs it is helpful to have a deep selection of someone's back catalog. For some reason I always knew this skill would come in handy. Last night, I had the pleasure of playing at this nice woman's 50th birthday. She was a major Bruce fan. Gigs in the living room are always a bit odd, but if the money's there and the drinks are a-flowin' amongst the guests it can be a great time. The Bruce songs I played:

"Growin Up"
"Incident on 57th St."
"Born To Run"
"Hungry Heart"
"Darkness on the Edge of Town"
"Racing In The Street"

and I know about 20 more...

Eggs

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 15:09:00 +0000

Eggs are good for you! Don't believe me?

Check out this article from CNN. Or this explanation from The Diet Channel.

I eat them for breakfast daily. Sunny side up because they are locally grown and organic (i.e. I know where those chickens live).

Bowiedream

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 04:44:00 +0000

Dream that David Bowie's daughter Alexandria and my daughter were in the same class at Bank Street School in NYC. We were invited over to their house for dinner. While Iman and I were chatting, David came in and I re-introduced myself. They lived in this giant stone castle which had a huge hole hollowed out in the middle. When I asked him if it was safe for children with the giant hole, he answered cryptically, "The wind blows the tiles back and forth." He then showed me to this room which was like It's A Small World at Disney but more Christmasy - there was a Santa sleigh, and it was quite abstract in some places. I laughed and said, "this is the one rock star indulgence you allow yourself, right? A totally useless room that looks like a Disney diorama." We were laughing. I hugged him as we got ready to go and said, "I really wish you'd make some more music". He looked tired and forlorn.

Angel

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 06:01:00 +0000

My angels are close today.

You know who you are.

Life

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 07:42:00 +0000

Keith Richards' autobiography stirs up a whole bunch of feelings. I think everybody who's a rock musician (not counting pure artist types who are more experimental than rock 'n' roll) has at some point (probably in their teens) wished for the life of a Rolling Stone: biggest band in the world, big tours, millions of dollars, houses in multiple countries, orgies, top shelf drugs, incredible musicians floating in and out...Etcetera. So the first emotion you have is "why this bloke and not me"? "What did he do right and what have I done wrong?"

But, once past the jealousy, it's impossible for me to read Keith's story without marveling at the amount of amazing recordings the Stones made and the brilliant songs they wrote. The tremendous, earth-shaking, heart-wrenching tunes. Do I even have to list them? Angie, Wild Horses, Jumping Jack Flash, Satisfaction, Ruby Tuesday, Salt of The Earth, Sympathy For The Devil, Midnight Rambler, The Last Time, on and on and on and on the tunes poured out of them - Paint It Black, Let It Bleed, Monkey Man...you think you've felt them all, but then a lesser known one pops out of a movie and you're back to rolling on the floor thinking "Oh my God, this is The Great Spirit coming at me with a Telecaster and a bluesman's drawl".   Keef (a nickname given to him by his family, by the way) goes into great detail about WHAT he loves about music and WHY, his songwriting process, and why the music still keeps him going after all these years. That alone should make this required reading for any aspiring musician of any genre who wants to write a song or play an instrument.

The book meanders through his schooling and upbringing, is most compelling describing the early days of the Stones and the abovementioned love of music, and goes into lurid, salacious detail of his junkie wanderings around the planet which usually ended in some model's bed or jail cell. The last part is campy fun, but ultimately pretty boring. Keith tries to justify years of drug abuse and familial neglect with stupid lines like "It was hard to be a Rolling Stone and raise a kid". Yeah, especially when you're on the bill with the spoon.

I admit, I have a grudge against the man for the terrible, terrible show I saw in Atlantic City in 06. This was shortly after his fall in Fiji, but he was just staggering around the stage, off rhythm most of the show, clearly messed up on some shit. Which was sad and awful because Mick was so good.   But I try to balance the good with the bad because the records are so very very great, so full of life, blues, America, England, partying, God, and everything....

Mick. Mick is brilliant. Keith gives him much credit in the book. "The best R&B singer in the UK", "the greatest entertainer of all time", "a brilliant lyricist" etc. From what dirt he dishes about their famously difficult relationship (and he lays out all the typical beefs - big ego, mad at Mick not letting him know about business deals, mad at Mick's lame solo career, etc). The two of them have a typical addict/non-addict spouse relationship. One can only hope that Mick has gone to Al-Anon or CODA at some point to work through his codependent feelings and anger. It was starkly clear in the "Shine A Light" movie how much Mick overcommits himself to micromanaging the band's affairs to make up for Keith's active addict lack of presence in helping steer the Stones. No wonder Mick's pissed. His partner checked out mentally years ago.   F.u., Keith.

But the records. The love of music. The blues. The Chuck Berry movie (where Keith built a band for that egomaniacal prick genius Chuck Berry) is beyond fantastic.

He really loves his kids, he just has a funny way of showing it. The parts where Marlon (son with Anita) is playing junkie nurse at ages 7 - 10 for his dad and then has to live in a mansion on Long Island with no heat in most of the rooms during the winter are just creepy though. Dumbass junkie has kids and then doesn't know how to take care of them. They don't sound bitter in the book, however. Word has it that Marlon turned out quite well-adjusted.

So, like life, Keef is complicated and full of contradictions. One can only hope that the man still has some actual music left in him. Some have said that the AC show was a fluke. But we will ALWAYS HAVE THE RECORDS.

Motion

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 04:57:00 +0000

Everything is moving very quickly right now. My daughter's getting taller, quicker, faster, more like a real person. I'm tentatively booking what could be an incredible 2 - 3 week tour through the Midwest and South in the second half of October. I'm also finishing a music video which is potentially lightning in a bottle. ALSO recorded drum tracks for the next EP. ALSO organizing the house and our money. Planning my medical strategy for the next couple of months, switched primary care doctors which feels a-maz-ING (loathed the staff of the last office). Read a great post about how to keep your house clean in 20 minutes a day for 30 days.

Revolution is sweeping the globe! Protests in the streets in Wisconsin! (there is POWER in a union!) Roll The Union On! I'm Sticking to the Union!

That bastard Qaddafi/Khadafy/Gadhafi may be hanging from the town square by the end of the month. And I can't say I would be sad. I don't wish violent death on anyone, but he would be first runner-up. I had a friend who died in the Lockerbie plane he brought down.

So onwards and upwards!

Music Success in Nine Weeks - Week Three

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 03:45:00 +0000

This week's challenge is about optimizing your website, which is something I did when I was working with Ariel before. Not a lot of changes I need to make to the existing status quo from the last time I worked this chapter, but I may change my pitch and add it to the My Space, Twitter, and Facebook pages.

My biggest problem? Lack of consistent follow-through. I have great ideas but don't execute. I write great songs but don't record them or finish them. I get email addresses at my gigs but don't add them to the list until 4 months later and/or never send a newsletter.

I signed up for this blog contest to hopefully stimulate some more consistency from myself. Because I feel like the consistency will pay off.

It's not like I just sit on my duff, though. I am still recovering from a pulmonary embolism and blood clots in my leg from March. I have an almost 5 year old who I am the primary caregiver for 4 days a week (wife works those days). I played 9 gigs a week all summer long. So I am still catching up, but I am hoping this contest stimulates my "follow-through" muscle.

For example, I look at all the awesome-looking websites that the other participants have and see how I have not updated mine in eons. I even got Dreamweaver as a Christmas present last year, but here it is Christmas again and I still have just cracked the first page of the manual. Can't afford to hire a web designer.

One tool that Ariel provides which really helps to list FIVE SUCCESSES every day. Because otherwise So I am going to start with that (making 2 of them music related):

1) Had 2 musically successful gigs the last two days - played some originals at both of them (mostly I play covers).

2) Sold 10 CDs Friday night, Sold 7 CDs last night. Average price paid - $6. The CDs are original music.

3) Writing this blog is a big step toward consistent action!

4) Took my daughter trick-or-treating. We went to just enough houses and had a really great time. She gives up most of her candy so the "Halloween Fairy" can give her a present.

5) Got home from the gig last night at 4 AM (it's 2 hrs away). Got to bed at 6 and slept a full 8 hours until 2 without waking up. With all my sleep issues of the last couple of years, this is a major thing!

6) Did not get angry at the little things today. Contained the impulse to lash out. :-)

Anyways...on to week 4. I may re-examine this chapter to make sure I've really worked it to my satisfaction, but my time is short and I am volunteering to make phone calls for my congressman tomorrow to get out the vote. Vote Patrick Murphy for Pennsylvania's 8th District!

Music Success in Nine Weeks - Week Two Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 06:57:00 +0000

"The Pete Seeger of goth-reggae" or "The Woody Guthrie of goth-reggae"

"Sings like Steve Winwood, writes lyrics like Beck, plays guitar like Jerry Garcia, and dances like Anthony Michael Hall in Sixteen Candles."

I honestly can't decide.

I'm going to post some thoughts in the Mastermind forum and see what people say.

Music Success in Nine Weeks - End of Week One/Week Two

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 05:48:00 +0000

Ok, I set my goals! I am also working with this coach named Gary Ryan Blair and his "100 Day Challenge" which has you set intense goals from the very beginning. I wrote all the goals out and am printing them out to post on the wall of my studio. Some highlights:

- enhancing my YouTube presence by recording a series of video and videosongs
- finishing my next Chris Huff record
- finishing my long-stalled children's record
- relaunching my online guitar lessons website
- creating a soundtrack reel for TV/film backgrounds work
- making more money :-D

Now on to Week #2, which in the book involved creating your perfect pitch. The pitch I came up with last time through the book was:

Sounds like Bob Dylan and David Bowie jamming in Jamaica

which worked for me, for awhile. Ariel liked it. Carla Lynne Hall liked it a lot. I remember using it at CMJ and this guy from a radio station in Seattle said, "Who are Bob Dylan and David Bowie?" Most people raised their eyebrows and said, "Hmm, interesting." But it didn't knock them out.

I want to knock them out! Need a better pitch and something that is a little more generalized - when you list specific artists, you run the chance of them not knowing

So, following the exercise in the book, here are my lists:

1) Genres of music played: Rock, roots rock, reggae, folk, folk rock, country, alt-country, punk, jazz, funk, soul, R&B, classic rock, British Invasion, psychedelic rock, 80s rock, jam band.

2) Artists people say you sound like: John Mayer, Dave Matthews, David Bowie, James Taylor, Steve Winwood, Jerry Garcia/Grateful Dead, The Beatles, Sting, U2, Tom Petty

3) Artists and things that have influenced you: Bob Dylan, Robyn Hitchcock, Lou Reed, abstract art, surrealism, Beatles, Stones, Who, Bob Marley, Bruce Springsteen, film noir, Morrissey, Robert Smith, and the list is really too long to finish...

4) Write down all of the feelings and vibes that you want to create or convey with your music. I want people to experience what I experience when I hear great singers or players: some sort of transcendent, almost out-of-body experience. I want people to relax and have a good time, I like a mellow psychedelic (but not out of control) vibe. The way you feel after meditation or a great yoga class. Or a couple of drinks sitting in the sun. And with all that, some cerebral stimulation in a thought-provoking lyric. Funny, sometimes heavy, sometimes confusing, sometimes strange, sometimes political. I want to shake people's minds, bodies, and spirits. Booty-shakin symbolist surrealist spiritual poetry.

Not so sure about the booty-shakin' part lol it's funny, but my new music won't really be like that...

Now I am supposed come up with words and sentences from the 4 above notes that sum me up. Here's a few I can think of:

I don't like mellow. My music isn't mellow. Tuneful and seasoned are 2 synonyms. People have called me like John Mayer but more soulful.

One thought: "Like John Mayer if his mom was Grace Slick and he grew up in Andy Warhol's Factory raised by Bowie who forcefed him Dylan records."

It's 2 AM, so I have to continue this later...but I'm going to post this one on the Facebook page and see what happens. Tschuss!

Music Success In Nine Weeks - Week One

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 05:38:00 +0000

So I am going to take the challenge from the Music Success In Nine Weeks crew, and start blogging my way through the new revised version of the book. The prizes are sweet and I could use the focus, even though I feel like "I don't have time" for it. I love Ariel's ideas and there are very few people/websites/organizations providing structure in this unstructured time in the music business. I believe right now ANY structure is good.

I worked with Ariel Publicity from Oct 2008 to Jan 2010 promoting my Death and Texas LP last year. While I have to say that I was quite happy with the results (it did broaden my fan base considerably) and I heartily agree with their methods, I was very disappointed in their customer service. For example, I was told that I received 10 gig promotions with my package and while the 1st promotion did get me an article in the local paper, the 2nd gig promotion didn't happen. When questioned, the answer I got is "oh we forgot, sorry". Then when I was discussing with an employee about doing further gig promotions, they basically said, "well it's really hard to get anyone to write something so we don't really try that hard." Nice. I did believe her that it is very hard to get a print publication to write about them, but after $2500 and numerous extensions at $250 a month, that was a pretty lame response. I felt like the woman handling my account could have given a crap; often it took days to get responses to emails. I asked a couple of times to receive direct responses from Ariel via email and/or phone (there was one problem with my promo photo at the beginning that was totally on their end and it was excruciating dealing with my account rep who was rude and uncaring). Ariel never responded, so just to let you know - you'll never hear from her if you ask to speak with her. You'll maybe get a tweet about something random in the middle of the night, but it also took her 2 months for her to add me to her Twitter page. Kinda shabby for $2500 + $250 a month for 9 more months. Also, some months they'd have you mail out 3 packages and then some months you'd have to send like 20 in one week. Hard to plan for. That might be standard, but I didn't and don't have a lot of confidence in their "go-getter"ness - I felt like more could have been done in the off months.

So if I didn't like them, why am I back, you might say? lol Why trash them in the first paragraph and blow my chances of actually winning the contest? LOL

Well, the publicity campaign worked. I made several contacts in the blog/podcast/internet radio area, and in fact got about 50-100 new fans who I still keep in touch with from one internet radio station alone. I got a whole bunch of reviews of my disc, some of which were great. Any publicity is good publicity, they say. Above all, it's the fan relationships I made with people around the world that bode well for the future. I started moving in the direction of "1000 true fans" (I'd say I probably have about 200).

And honestly, there's no other game in town for what they are doing. Should I win the package, at least this time going into it I will have my eyes open and know what to expect. I'm also hoping that my venting gets noticed and maybe their customer service will improve!

AND....(here's the crux of the matter)...I think like many musicians I have been sitting at the counter of Schwab's Pharmacy all my life waiting to be discovered, "ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille". For those who don't know, this was a famous drugstore in Hollywood where actors and actresses would go to be "noticed" by producers and directors. It was rumored that Lana Turner was discovered there, but that is actually false. To anyone's knowledge, nobody was discovered there.

But I have been waiting most of my life for someone else to come along and do the heavy lifting. Be discovered by a producer, be discovered by a label, for someone to say "hey, he's really talented. I'm going to give him a million dollars and put him on TV/Radio/Movies". Colonel Parkers don't exist anymore, and even if they did, look what he did to Elvis.

I admit that I gave up at the end of my publicity campaign because I thought "well, I don't have any more sales, I can't support myself on my record sales so I am a failure". My expectations were unrealistic.

I am willing to start again, to learn anew, to correct my mistakes, and above all TRY not to be so damn SELF-CRITICAL. I am my own worst enemy. But I am also my own best friend. The tools in this book really helped before and I think I can use them to launch myself a little further down the path because now I have an idea of what is reasonable to expect.

And, like Derek Sivers says, nobody is coming. Nobody. That thought comforts him and terrifies me. But I know I can do it. I have watched so many of my friends become successful in music and other businesses and I am sick and tired of standing on the sidelines. I am going to try to discover myself and try to present that to the world in a fashion I can be proud of. I have a lot of exciting strategies and I am eager to try them out.

So while I think I have "no time" to blog and go through this book, I think I need to give up some TV shows and stop mindlessly surfing the web to commit to some forward progress. Because I'm worth it LOL. Cheesiest blog ending line ever! See, there's the critic. Work in progress over here. Time for some goal-setting!

my favorite movie

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 18:04:00 +0000

So I am taking this challenge from NaBloPoMo to blog everyday during July and revitalize my declining web presence. Some of you know that I had a blood clot situation in March - there will be more details about that shortly, but for today...I am using their "writing stimulator" -

my favorite movie is The Last Temptation of Christ. or at least it used to be. It's been so many years since I've seen it that I have really no idea anymore lol. I used to call Star Wars my favorite movie, and then when I saw it again with my daughter last year I realized that it seemed kind of dated and was a little bit boring. Brazil is a great one, but also I haven't watched that in years.

To catch up those who haven't seen it: Last Temptation is a fictional riffing on the Gospel of Matthew. Satan tempts Jesus to accept a normal life as a man while he is on the cross. He comes down off the cross, has kids, lives to be an old man...

What I like about Last Temptation:

a) It was a pet project of Martin Scorsese's for years, and has great personal meaning for him...I am always attracted to great artists' pet projects...

b) Willem Dafoe's performance and subsequent commentary on the Criterion Collection DVD - Willem is an acknowledged agnostic who describes feeling "a presence" during the filming that went away after shooting stopped...and he plays an extremely human, confused, frightened Jesus...

c) Peter Gabriel's score - an extremely sensual series of music pieces - I have great memories about this music from a period of time when I was 20 and with a particular significant other...hahaha nothing like being young and lusty...with a great soundtrack to accompany...

d) It's not particularly reverent and yet not irreverent - it preserves the actors' New York accents yet also gives a distinct visceral feeling of the sacred - the way an Essene must have felt having hallucinations after fasting in the desert for 40 days....

e) The crucifixion sequence and the events of the Last Temptation are some of the most powerful filmmaking I can think of - I am thinking especially about the silence when Satan in the form of a little girl is taking the nails out of Jesus's feet and taking him off the cross...whatever one believes about Christianity and God in general, you've gotta admit that symbolically this is about as strong as you can get in Western Civilization.

f) Overall, it is a very visceral, gut-level, experiential telling of the Christ story which is one of the organizing myths in our society and resonates with me on a cellular level. The camera movements ("God wants to PUSH me over" Jesus shouts as the camera takes us off the cliff), the music, the costumes, the stark desert scenery....every small physical action takes on HUGE meaning - when Jesus eats an apple, it bleeds...

g) Religion is explained in one scene with Harry Dean Stanton as the Apostle Paul who encounters the Jesus who chose a normal life - "It doesn't matter what really happened to you. It matters what people believe happened. The resurrected Christ will save the world! Not you. I'm glad I met you, so I can forget all about you."

h) David Bowie as Pontius Pilate!

In my mind, a person of faith would not find this film blasphemous...a person of faith would find this film inspiring, gut-wrenching, and ultimately reinforcing a strong connection to the Divine. But, hey that's just me. :-)

Thoughts on music, life, and The Grammys - A Cranky Old Man Rant

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 23:07:00 +0000

I didn't watch the Grammys last night. The clip I checked out on YouTube of Taylor Swift (who I really don't mind) - she was really flat. While I respect the decision not to use autotune, she and Stevie Nicks together kinda sounded like a train wreck. Stevie's always had pitch issues.

That being said, of all the cover songs I play You Belong To Me is one of the better-written and catchier melodies. Someday I will share my Cheap Trick-style version with you.

Two very cool things about the Grammys though:

1) Ramblin' Jack Elliott won a Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Album. I doubt Jack has ever won an award in his life. A HUGE influence on Bob Dylan, Jack was the king of the scene in Greenwich Village in the early 60s. 78 years old. I LOVE that shit. Show em how it's done, old man.

2) Neil Young won his first Grammy, even though it was for Art Direction on one of his Archive box sets. Think about that, though. Love him or hate him, Neil Young has a HUGE influence. The whole Pearl Jam/Nirvana Seattle scene worshipped him and was extremely influenced by his fusion of folk, punk, and hard rock styles. Also his scraggly hair. His first Grammy? How insane is that? It's great but it sucks too...he has released over 30 albums in a career spanning decades. Maybe he hasn't been relevant to the culture at large for a period of years, but does music ALWAYS have to be culturally relevant? Can it ever be judged on its own terms? Or is all that matters that people buy it?

We are giving Taylor Swift at age 20 armloads of awards as if she is the "best" because she happened to sell the most last year...

so without sounding too curmudgeonly, I need to express how much I really despise these kinds of events where today's artists are celebrated as if they are Artists with a capital A. The music of the 60s was a youth movement, perhaps the greatest youth movement of all time. I also understand that ages 15 - 25 are the #1 sales demographic because they are not spending their money on power bills and mortgages, they buy CDs and downloads. I love young people btw. I know a lot of them who think the current pop music is crap, too.

BUT I want to scream how the emperor (or empress, in Lady Gaga's case) has no clothes. At least Gaga is visually interesting. In my lifetime, though, I have seen pop music rise and fall. There were the quirky early to mid 80s where for a brief, shining moment being weird and interesting was celebrated. Then the dance music and hair bands leapt in, to be smashed by Nirvana. All of a sudden it was again cool to be interesting. Since Nirvana, though, it seems like we've been slowly sliding downhill with all of the interesting artists marginalized and the most mainstream stuff getting more and more watered down...there have been some bright moments - "Are You Gonna Be My Girl", "Drops of Jupiter" - there will always be great pop songs even in the darkness....but it seems to be getting worse.

What it boils down to is I have a deep and abiding love for music created on guitars and pianos. A drum machine beat and a fuzzy synth can be fun once in a while...but nobody in the mainstream really uses the tech that creatively these days. I am thinking here of one-man band synth pioneer Howard Jones whose singles had real texture. I suppose I am old-fashioned, but I believed these things in the late 80s too when I was only 17...

What is my point? Maybe the best stuff has always been outside the spotlight. There will always be good music being made. For example, this new disc by a group called Seeland is amazing. Check them out: http://www.myspace.com/seelanduk - there is no reason that they shouldn't be huge.

Our musical culture is so fractured right now that unless you go out to bars all the time or listen to whatever top 40 radio station is left in your town, you probably haven't even heard Lady Gaga. That is somewhat comforting, even though Gaga is the best of what's out there on the charts right now.

Lester Bangs wrote an essay on Elvis in 77 when the King died which ended with "I'm not going to say goodbye to Elvis. I'm going to say goodbye to you. Because we will never agree on anything so much ever again." Foreshadowing!

I ramble. I roll. But (since I don't post regularly) maybe nobody will read this! I promise to get better at this whole blogeration. Cheers.

Acid Bird (so long ago)

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 10:03:00 +0000

10 years ago I was asked to contribute to Mr. Bayard Catron's Glass Flesh project, a series of recordings covering Robyn Hitchcock. Being a huge Robyn fan (or Fegmaniac as it were) I gladly agreed. Electronica was all the rage in 99, and I had just gotten a Boss Dr. Groove drum machine. So I abstracted some acoustic guitars, open tuning them to specific chords, and with my fancy new Pro Tools digital recording and editing rig I set out to make a little deconstructed late 90s electronica stylee Acid Bird.

The results were ok, I was fairly pleased (though still on the engineering learning curve) but for whatever reason it wasn't included on the tribute CD. Pretty much all the songs included ended up being straight covers relatively true to the originals, and mine may have stood out. Or maybe the final disc was corrupt....

Anyway, the story has a happy ending as Bayard gave me a shout about a month ago and asked if I could send him the song again for inclusion on whatever Glass Flesh is going to turn into (the project is up to CD #4 now I believe). So I went back into my old Mac G3 and lo and behold the original files were still there.

I was going to replace the drums for the cheese factor - now I'm on Logic Studio and the drum samples are quite bangin - but because of the deconstructed, fragmented recording method (I literally tuned my acoustic to open C, open D, open A, open G, etc and recorded the chords separately then placed them in the song with the digital editor) it was impossible to sync stuff up in Logic. So the little demo like Dr. Groove is there to stay. It was a fun afternoon remixing the thing. Did re-record the guitar solo at the end as I have improved in 10 years.

You can hear it here: ReverbNation

or if you don't want to sign up for my email list then you can also go here: YourSpace

Learn about Robyn Hitchcock here: RH Official Site

Visit Bayard's Glass Hotel and order Glass Flesh here: The Glass Hotel

I Could Tell You But....

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 04:27:00 +0000

I could tell you about the lady who came up to me in the middle of a song the other night with a kazoo in her hand. Displayed prominently and upright, she smiled with a grace befitting her 70+ years. I start vamping and ask over the mic, "Are you asking me if you can play that now?" She says "When you're on your break..." I shake my head no, and she gives me a horrified look. "Why not?" she asks. "Well," I say still vamping, "we could discuss this now in the middle of the song and make all these people wait and listen in to our conversation, or I could finish the song. Which do you think?" She doesn't answer, and I say, "Yes, I think finishing the song is best."

I could tell you about the exhaustion once the summer gigs stopped last week. And then magically started up again, pounding my immune system into a pulp.

I could tell you about the great movies I've watched, unable to move when not playing: Walk The Line, Wristcutters, Control, Wall-E, The Royal Tenenbaums (not great, but Gene Hackman is very good)...

I could tell you about how I'm trying to organize my office right now.

I could tell you, but....

The Clapping Lady!

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 08:46:00 +0000

Legend has it that the Clapping Lady roams the South Jersey shore...inspiring musicians and audiences everywhere by being the first one to clap. Legend also has it that she can light a fire in a room just by clapping. Nobody knows when she will arrive or where she will end up. Or who her mysterious companions are.

Well, I'm here to tell you that the legend is true. The Clapping Lady exists, and I have seen her. She has Clapped for me.

So I wrote her a song:

Jah loves you Clapping Lady
Jah smile on your heart
Jah loves you Clapping Lady
as you clap the room apart

We love the Clapping Lady
she keeps it real and sane and fun
we love the Clapping Lady
She make the music come

Now Is The Time (the time is now) hey hey rock and roll

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 04:15:00 +0000

I am going to blog regularly, dammit! My buddy Ed (Hamell On Trial) blogs all the time and while I don't have nearly the insane stories he has (I mean, I used to do drugs but when I was getting a B.A. in Stimulants he was going for the triple Ph.D in Everything) I still have awesome gig stories.

Like tonight. I showed up for the gig, moved all the gear inside to the usual place, was coming back in when the manager says "Sorry, you're playing outside." OK, no problem, it's pretty nice out, there is only 1 person outside and about 30 people inside, but I am fine with that. The manager is a great guy, and he even helps me move my gear. That is pretty much unheard of in my world.

The crowd at the start of the 1st set appears to be Latina, about 6 ladies, conversing in Spanish and it is unclear to me whether they speak English. What to play, what to play, not warmed up for La Bamba, what to play, wish I knew Chan-Chan from Buena Vista Social Club...I play Jack Johnson, Bob Dylan's "Standing in the Doorway" (such a great song), and some of my other usual warm-up material. An older couple sits down, and the patio starts to fill up. People!

Nobody is clapping though. This is pretty normal for happy hour restaurant gigs. No one wants to be the first one to clap, and people are eating. It is always helpful to bring your own 1st set clapper. Maybe I will start bribing someone! Free CD for the first one to clap. Also falls psychologically into the realm of "people don't like it unless other people say it's good". My experience is that most folks are this way.

One woman (in her 70s) claps after I play "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" (J.Johnson). She has an arm brace on her left arm. She says, "I feel bad no one's clapping for you!" I use the opportunity to guilt the table next to her into clapping ("See what you did? You made this injured lady clap her hands..."). This works ok, though the couple at this adjacent table appear to be smiling at some kind of inside joke through the whole set. I am not sure if they like my music or think I am stupid. I am paranoid (my usual response to no response).

A couple shows up in 2 motorized wheelchairs. The woman parks her wheelchair next to my PA and gets up and walks into the restaurant. Then they come out again and stand in the middle of the patio looking confused for about 5 minutes until the waitress finally takes the dirty plate off the open table next to me. It is all I can do not to scream "Will somebody help these people? For God's sake, he's in a wheelchair!!!" during the 5 minutes. They are now next to me and enjoying the music.

I take a break, adjourn to the car for hot dogs and brief conversation with the wife and little girl. Teryn asks me what happened to Chequers, my Dalmatian from when I was 5 to 7 years old. She is curious because she is playing with my old doll Furga who she has renamed Theresa. Probably because Furga isn't a name, it was the name on the box i.e. the company that made the doll. I was proud of being able to read it so there you go. Yes, I had a doll. I am a sensitive male child of the 70s. Furga especially enjoys her new name. Chequers chewed one of Furga's feet way back when. Chequers also bit 3 of my little friends and had to be put to sleep at age 2 by NY State Law. Dalmatians are not good dogs for kids, despite what Disney says about having as many as you can stuff in a room. Poor old Chequers. Linda and I tell Teryn that Daddy was little a long time ago and doggies don't live as long as people. Nuff said.

When I get back the manager approaches me, as the skies are looking ominous. He leaves it up to me whether or not to head inside right now. The sky is literally half-blue and half-grey. I pick the wrong half and say no, I'll stay out until it clouds over more. About 15 minutes later the sky opens with no warning and both managers and I scramble to get guitar, PA, cables, songbooks, and the rest inside. Big wet puddle. Guitar finish got some rain marks, but besides an odd crackling noise later from my stereo guit-cable, everything is ok. I spend the next hour drying everything off, including me. Thank God I carry a towel! I read my Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, thank you very much.

As I am winding my cables and making my damp little way back and forth from the door to the "stage", Birkenstocks squishing on my feet like two little wet sponges, I am reminding myself how grateful I am to do what I do, that I am not working at a desk, and there is nobody whipping me to move faster, do more, etc. I walk back and forth probably about 20 times like Slow-Poke Rodriguez from the old Warner Bros. cartoons. That most likely all my equipment is ok, I will dry, and always go inside when given the opportunity. Not everything in the world is my fault, even though I also had two checks bounce this morning because of my own stupidity in not transferring money over. So, life is good in Wetville.

At 6:30, the gear is re-set up, I am still relatively damp but the gear is toweled off and I have a request to play "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows, which I do somewhat loudly (feeling feisty). Goes over great. My latest offer of "pay what you want" for CDs at the gig is proving to be very successful (with the average CD monies recouped working out to $5/unit), and I sell out during the set (5 CDs). Two college girls are singing along. People are clapping and it's fun. I even have to send people to my website to buy more CDs because I ran out. Good problem to have! Never expected the pay-what-you-want to be so successful. Some pay $3. Some pay $20. It balances out, and as opposed to selling nothing, I am now moving like 5 - 10 of these things a gig. Whoo hoo!

Gig ends, manager apologizes for the rain (totally unnecessary, they are awesome, and she got drenched helping me move stuff in), and I am packing up. The two girls left the CD they bought on the bar - they were WASTED when they left - and I end up reselling it to the guy who is playing after me. His name is Tug. It's his first solo gig - ever? or maybe just in a long time? - we chat and he is complimentary and asks questions about how many gigs do I do, etc. I am the veteran knight, rolling up my sleeves and showing battle wounds ("Here's where the Dragon of Sea Isle tried to bite my leg off, I ate his liver with a side of fava beans, etc"). On the way home, I listen to Sting's "Why Should I Cry For You?" over and over. The production on that song really bites the big one, there is WAY too much going on, all sorts of stupid Peter Gabriel pale imitation noises and endless early 90s synth sounds that were really leftover from the 80s, outdated even at the time - but it is one of his best tunes by far I think. The lyric is so dense and lonely ("Dark angels follow me/over a godless sea/mountains of endless falling/for all my days remaining"). That whole record (Soul Cages) is about his father dying. So TO ME on one level WSICFY is about how he will always be lost without him, he'll never recover, and really Dad has moved on to a better place so I am crying for myself and on the other level is like "You were never there for me, I have never had a real father, and why should I cry for you you bastard milkman (yes Sting's daddy was a milkman)". Joni Mitchell said that Sting was the child she and James Taylor never had. This song especially to me shows that mix.

I am thinking it is time to release a covers record or maybe a series of tracks by a few artists. This one, "Moon Over Bourbon St." and maybe one other would be the Sting one. Love him or hate him (and frankly after Soul Cages with the exception of "Fields of Gold" it is all crap), he has a kickass voice and can write a great tune when he is not looking in the mirror being amazed by being Sting. Maybe Fields of Gold, which is a beautiful, non-pretentious folk song about how grateful Sting feels for his wife and family. I might like the album of lute music, who knows. All the punks who read this (maybe the one LOL) will be rolling their eyes when I talk Sting. But punk can be equally as pretentious and most of them frankly don't have any of the chops. I know, being punk, that they "don't care"...thus the musician/non-musician war rages on and I leap between in the middle like Michael Jackson in the Beat It video ("it doesn't matter who's wrong or right").

But that is another blog for another day. Going to bed before 5 AM - Schwing! Oh and btw I am also co-writing an Internet TV show which is going to be funny, strange, and a must-see...also launching Guitar in 5 Minutes lessons for beginners...

So. How was your day, dear?

Life of the Party

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 04:40:00 +0000

Hello to you wherever you are, good peoples! Performance-wise, this is the busiest summer of my life. The last two weeks I played 15 shows. Gearing up for a meager 6 show week starting tomorrow, but you never know what can come down the pike...

Feeling disconnected a bit from songwriting - honestly it can get boring in these long corporate gigs playing my own songs because a) only occasionally does someone really listen to them so it is just for my own practice or vanity and b) frankly, my original music up to this point is the exact opposite of "The Party" (of which it seems I am constantly the host). I am not putting down my songs! Many of you enjoy them and I am very glad about that. I just want to write new ones and I need more settings that are appropriate for playing them. Both of which I am working on. UStream concerts! and new tunes.

But the singing and rhythmic guitaring is feeling better than ever. Just got this machine called an interferential stimulator (heh heh heh) which I will be using to calm my tired strap muscle behind the left shoulder blade.

So much to do on this my one day off. I am accountant/entrepreneur/husband/father/son/friend/hired musician all at one time. But I wanted to post and say Hi. So Hi. :-)

Funny gig story. Made $90 extra letting this old man sing 4 songs along with me. He was nearsighted and couldn't read the words so his wife and daughter-in-law were helping him. I will be honest and say that I really hate being a human karaoke machine for anyone except friends. For friends, I will play the guitar and you can sing your favorite song. For strangers, it's $20. Which these "people" were willing to pay. They cleared out half the bar (which the staff, lord love em, did not hate me for). They had the time of their lives. The funny part is that the blond daughter-in-law drank so many martinis so quickly that she passed out face first on the bar and had to be carried out fireman-style by the son. End of evening.

I type this and I feel shitty. I want people to have a good time. I hate it when they leave mad because I won't let them sing. Or stay and sulk because I told them they couldn't. I don't want to be that person. I want to be the fun "life of the party", the guy who sings that song you haven't heard in years and gets you up shaking your booty for the first real taste of FREEDOM you've had in weeks.

My friend Kimya Dawson lets all sorts of fans come up and sing with her at her shows. However it is different - I am not playing my own music (if it were my songs, you could all have mics and sing along), most of her fans aren't stinking drunk (EVERYBODY I deal with is drunk), and many of her fans are children. I let a child with a congenital heart defect sing a Christina Aguilera song a cappella. The mother thanked me weeping. And then later, when the mother tried to push her way to the mic to sing the chorus of "Africa" with me, she got angry that I told her no and stormed off.

I HATE THAT. I hate the whole situation. It's not fair to the people who pay me to play to inflict these crappy drunken idiots on their ears, let alone the staff. It's not fair to always have to be the one who kills the buzz and ruins someone's night. Let alone, and I KNOW I am alone in thinking and saying this, but PLAYING COVERS IS AN ART and however arrogant it may be, I think of myself as an ARTIST. Most people you see doing it phone it in, but I try to muster up as much passion and commitment as I can and really freakin nail it to the wall with my own style. Right now I do it for the money and for a chance to play all the time, but some of my covers are brilliant pieces of art. So don't come pee on my art, beeyotch!

The main reason though that I don't let people sing is that anybody can be a human karaoke machine but not many people can do what I do. Sing for hours and hours with soul and conviction and excellent musical taste. lol go me. It is so rude to presume that somebody playing their guitar with their equipment is their for your personal pleasure. But I have been dealing with this same situation almost every night for a month. And people react the same way, they all get mad.

Here I am frothing at the mouth at 1 AM. I think I'm going to start to get creative in my responses:

"Can I sing a song" "I don't know, can you?"
"My friend wants to sing" "And I'd like to bang your friend's girlfriend, think you can make that happen?"
"My dad's an excellent singer." "Really? Tell you what I'll do. I'll leave my guitar on stage and go out to my car for the next 3 hours. Your dad can sing whatever he wants. Let me know when you're done, and break whatever you want, it's insured."

and if a pushy customer comes up to the stage:

"Ladies and gentleman, here he/she is: Miss/Mr. Jersey Shore Herpes 2009!!! Give it up!!!"

Yes. I am tired with WAY too much to do. Cheerio.

The Aesthetics of Michael Jackson

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 04:49:00 +0000

When I was in college, I took a course on Eugene O'Neill - "Eugene O'Neill and The Cultural Construction of a Psychological Self" with Professor Joel Pfister (the P is silent, Witchie). In this class we "deconstructed" O'Neill like good postmodernist 90s college students, breaking down his plays by their points of view on race, class, and gender. So basically being that I went to the school that was the setting for the movie PCU (see here - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110759/), the opinion of most of the class was that O'Neill was a racist, sexist, classist idiot whose plays never should have seen the light of day.

We had to write a final paper for the class with a thesis statement drawn from our own perspective on O'Neill. It was my opinion that O'Neill still was a "good" playwright - not necessarily Strange Interlude or The Iceman Cometh (yawn-a-roo) - but Long Day's Journey was compelling along with many others and frankly he was a pretty durn good writer whose plays have stood the test of time. I found a quote from Bertolt Brecht about the aesthetics of drama. Boiled down, the essence was that Brecht believed that drama has its own aesthetic - meaning, that the quality of a play being "good" is completely separate from all other criteria. You could have a well-written, well-acted, well-lit, well-designed play that was totally morally abhorrent. Just because the subject matter is repugnant doesn't mean necessarily that the actors, the dramatic moments, or the set design sucked.

I was not popular in this class. People thought I was a Nazi. But I got an A minus on the paper because the professor agreed I had a compelling argument and Brecht backed me up. Schwing!

Anyway, I see a similar thing going on with Michael Jackson. People seem to be in two camps: either St. Michael is dead and they are weeping and gnashing their teeth, or they are saying "I'm so glad that child rapist is dead". I guess this blog (which I totally have NO TIME for LOL and shouldn't be typing right now) is aimed more at those who think that the children of the world are now safe and thank goodness the molester has been eradicated.

You can say what you like about his personal life and the horrible stories and court cases that came out of Neverland. Michael Jackson was a major talent. 70s and 80s music would have been completely different without his influence. Not to mention on those zippers on those leather jackets :-) He sang, wrote, and performed major pop music that always took what was happening right then and moved it ahead a few notches. Quincy Jones helped focus his records with laser-sharp precision.

Phil Spector is in jail for the rest of his life for murder. Does that invalidate "Pretty Little Angel Eyes?"

OJ Simpson is also a psychopathic killer (thankfully imprisoned). Should they take his football records off the books?

I admit, it's hard to sing these people's praises in any way. I guess all I want to say to those who say "Ding dong the rapist is dead" is that this world is far more confusing and nuanced that that - that it is good to remember the good about people no matter who they are even if it's difficult, because when all we do is rejoice when someone dies is become a little more psycho ourselves.

And if you're thinking about being my baby, it don't matter if you're black or white :-) and yes, ding dong, the rapist IS dead.

Somewhere I have a video of myself dancing around to Billie Jean at age 15 with a winter glove on my hand. If I find it, I WILL post it.

Introducing...The Chris Huff Sock Monkey!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Huff) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 01:46:00 +0000

Made by the fabulous Amy Dutsch (of Mama's Little Monkeys and Huffmusic Promotions) -

Go here to see it.

Oh, ok. Here's a sneak preview:

Definitely the coolest piece of Huff merchandise yet created. Fun for the whole family! Pose me like you have always wanted (some suggestions I have had recently are with my leg over my head singing "A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts") .