My Future Wife, and Joe Ely!

What an eventful last 12 days. A week and a half ago while I was performing my second show in two weeks at the Bluebird, my girlfriend Kim was hit by a woman running a red light, injuring her and totaling her car. Fortunately, she was not injured all that badly, and the insurance is going to cover the car. But what trauma.

Then, the next night...I asked her to marry me! This was planned, of course, before the accident, but the surprise for me was that my own brother and his girlfriend showed up at the party (the night was also my birthday), completely unbeknownst to me. Er...from Toronto. Kim had planned this. So that was quite a surprise. But I trumped it! So what a milestone, a moment neither of us will ever forget, and we look forward to the rest of our lives together.

Then last night, my band and I opened for Joe Ely. And it was a great night. As a fan, I couldn't have hoped for anything more. I gave the performance of my life and we got a standing ovation from Joe's crowd. Then Joe came on and did what exactly he's built a career doing - he stole the show. Where we brought the thunder and the electricity, Joe brought the wind, the rain, the motorcycles, the stories, the righteousness, the outlaws, the plains....and the electricity. I feel no bashfulness in saying I felt fearless to give it my all, because I know that you can't blow Joe Ely off the stage. His personality and depth is such that over the course of his show, nothing else matters. I feel no shame saying that I wanted him to steal the night. Because he's Joe Ely. He leaves you with moments you'll never forget. Want proof:



And how are you going to top this:



I'm thankful for the night, and look forward to more great nights.

Here are a couple of pics from Jon Karr (thatverynextthing.blogspot.com, thatverynextthing.com), who came to a show of ours a few nights prior:

Obama's Birth Certificate

I can think of no more disgusting act in American political culture of recent times than the President of the United States being pressured into finally showing us all his birth certificate. People say, "Why didn't he just do it years ago and put it to rest?" Here's why: because he owes you nothing. Donald Trump is very proud of himself (his words) for making the President finally put this "controversy" to rest. All Donald Trump has done is help torpedo the standards of American decency, brain capacity, and acceptability to unheard of lows. Congratulations, sheep head. The truth is that nothing could be more undignified, insulting, un-presidential for the office of President, than to pander to these baseless assholes by giving them what they deem necessary. Period.

Of course, considering the true colors of American brain function were being exposed to include much more jello and pig vomit than most people might have thought possible in 2011, Obama's back was obviously to the wall. How are you going to talk about Global Economic issues, unemployment, the difficulties of dealing with oil prices, troubling nations, and radical movements across the world, when over half of your opposing constituency in Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Texas, and North Carolina believe that you are a Muslim terrorist, who fought for the rebel army of Kenya in Stalin's Indonesia, in an attempt to free your people from the surrounding rings of Saturn? How are you supposed to talk to these people like an adult? Like all people with an IQ in triple digits, I was looking forward to the day when this controversy would go away. Maybe Barack Obama would use it to his own advantage, avoiding the question while the little puke Trump's campaign (what's with the shape of his mouth when he talks, anyway?) grew to feverish pitches, only for Obama to suddenly unveil the certificate during the 3rd Presidential debate, a pair of spotlights shining down on the 1961 Governor of Hawaii and the delivery doctor, both sitting idly in the front row. Yes, I wanted this to go away, but I had mixed feelings about the president stooping to this unheard of level of moronic tide in order to do it. And now I feel like I need to take a shower. People claim the race card is overused, and often times it certainly is. I am afraid that this has little do do with anything, though, other than race.

For starters, why did Barack Obama have to show us his birth certificate? Clinton didn't have to. Nixon didn't have to. Eisenhower never had to. George Bush wasn't pressed to show us his high school diploma. John McCain was never going to be made to show us his birth certificate - and his birth on US soil involves a much more precarious set of circumstances than Obama's (even while it is clear that he is in fact a naturalized citizen). Now that it's done, for Obama to show us his birth certificate is for the half black guy with a funny name, with a father from a country most of us know little about, being forced to say, "Here is the extra proof you need to know that I am legitimate for this position. So we're cool?". Why didn't he do it before? Jackie Robinson was given a directive to not reply to racists for 2 years when he joined Major League Baseball. In 1947. 64 years later, why is it acceptable for the President of The United States to have to throw a bone to the same segment of society - 2 or 3 generations on - to allow himself the privilege of being allowed to continue to be their elected representative, when there are no credible facts to the contrary? Well it was possible? The best anyone could come up with was that without the long form birth certificate, anything could be possible, so here are some theories. Well gall darn, I suppose so. Half black, Kenya, Hussein, liberal...with Mitt Romney's health care plan, income tax rates 2/3 the level of Reagan's, and with a former radical Christian minister...obviously an illegitimate Muslim socialist.

The whole rumor initially took off with Orly Taitz - a classic certifiable looney ("...Anyone with an average IQ - 60 - could understand what I'm talking about..."). She got busted trying to produce a phoney Kenyan Obama birth certificate, one that actually had the name of the country wrong - woops - and was fined by the US Supreme Court for wasting their time on it. Four of the movement's biggest mainstream propagators have been Glenn Beck - a guy who in an interview bragged about his lack of education, how, "When i was a kid I saw a guy on TV and thought, 'Wouldn't that be cool!'" - Sharron Angle, who told a group of Asian student that hey, sometimes she got mistaken for Asian while growing up, too...

Sharon Angle

...Michelle Bachmann, and of course Rush Limbaugh, whose fat ass was outraged when Michelle Obama tried to promote healthy eating for kids, because, "she doesn't exactly look like a model."

Let's say you hate Barack Obama. Say you hate him because he chooses to spend on more domestic programs than you deem necessary. Say you...like health care just the way it was. Say you think he's annoying, too into himself, not as funny as he thinks he is, that he came into office unproven, that he rode a wave that had more to do with George Bush, and feeling good about ourselves again, than it did about him being a good leader. Say you disagree with both his foreign policy initiatives and the way he reacts to unforseen conflicts in other nations. Say you don't like him, and say you want him to go down in flames in 2012.

I know you. I know these people. I live in Tennessee, and I know I have friends very dear to me who can't stand the man. That's fine, I accept this. I enjoy debate and I enjoy the "clash of ideas" to further deepen one's position. It's necessary, and without it there is no America. I ask why, though, you choose to sell out not your opinions, but your intelligence. Embarrass yourself. Embarrass the country. You can make political arguments. You can vote. You can get your friends to vote. But you can't take back this wave of paranoia and racism you rode on. You can't take it back, and you should be ashamed. No-one should have to prove their legitimacy in the face of such empty allegation, brought on by people who clearly have agendas of their own. Those people know what they are doing. Newt Gingrich - he knows the president is an American. Romney - he knows. John McCain chose not to lower himself to this. Pawlenty, Barbour, maybe even Huckabee - they all know. You were played. You have cheapened America, cheapened the dignity of the office of US President, cheapened the racial progress we so champion, and now we all have to take a shower and move on.

Shame on you.

Why Those Guys?

Here's a thought: imagine if...anyone else in the world...were held to the same standards of behavior, and perceived moral righteousness, as the American professional athlete seems to be. Carpenters, analysts, stockbrokers...anyone. Imagine America as a nation swimming in a sea of people that looked and sounded like Mitt Romney.

Two days ago, Kobe Bryant got in trouble for losing it on a ref, calling him a "fucking faggot". Weak, offensive words on a number of levels, but let's dig deeper. When asked about the incident on a radio show, Kobe said - as one would expect - that he meant no disrespect to gays and lesbians, that in the heat of the moment he lost his cool and just yelled out an angry slur, he regrets it, and that as someone kids look up to, he would never want them to think that this is OK, or the right thing to do. This saying, of course (faggot) being one that in the homophobe worlds of corporate America and jock culture that Kobe Bryant inhabits, is tossed around almost as much as, "just keepin' busy", or "one day at a time". He also said that he planned to meet with gay and lesbian groups personally to atone, that he believed people have the right to be whoever they are and be respected, and that he took no umbrage with the fine levied against him by the NBA as a result. That fine? $100,000.

So this guy didn't blame it on the referee, and seemed to be taking a somewhat - somewhat - adult level of responsibility for his dumbass actions. Go spend 5 minutes listing to corporate US sports media and all you hear is how Kobe never "apologized". That he probably never would. He never said, "I was wrong". No, he didn't say those words, he expanded to the practical level of what those phrases actually entail. "I will atone", "Don't think this is acceptable", "I will pay for my actions". And for this, he's a morally hopeless cause. Sports.

Quite a contrast from, say, the 4 lunkheads - hit songwriters - I mentioned earlier...singing about queers and how, "That shit ain't never been right". Weird! Clearly we know their actual feelings. They're not going to tell you they lost their cool, or that they're meeting with gay and lesbian groups to try and atone for their sins. Question them they'll tell you about free speech, go further and they'll say it's God's rule, not theirs. OK. They have publishers pitching all their songs to every big Montgomery Gentry in the country, Kobe Bryant's getting fined $100 grand. Why? Why are mainstream athletes supposed to be of a higher caliber of human than anyone else? I seriously don't know. I don't know it's origin. Ty Cobb, one of the original 7 baseball hall of famers, was a worthless, full on racist. And Babe Ruth - hookers and partying...during prohibition! Poor Derek Jeter, he could never get away with that if he wanted to.

Also 2 days ago, Barry Bonds was (sort of) found guilty for lying to the grand jury about his steroid use. In the world of sports, you have to take this purity act so seriously that you'll lie all the way up to the Supreme Court to defend it. Steroids aren't even illegal. They're just illegal in baseball. And they weren't even illegal in baseball most of the time he was taking them. So they spent all this taxpayer money proving what they, you, and everybody else already knows - that Barry Bonds was taking steroids. Whoop-de-do.



In the outside world...who the hell cares? In sports...it's a big deal. Why? Several years ago, there was a book - an in depth investigation by some reporters into the secret, underground world of athletes procuring performance enhancing drugs. It was called, "Game Of Shadows". Oooooh. Even Bob Costas was saying isn't this book itself basis enough for the league to terminate certain payers, render them ineligible for the Hall of Fame, file motions, etc, etc. Hmmm. Here's another book I just read - "Life", by Keith Richards. There was more drug use in one leg of one Rolling Stones tour than in the entire history of the NFL, baseball, olympics, and world cup combined. And they've been in the rock and roll hall of fame for 22 years. They probably even had their own wing at some point. Who's going to stop listening to Brown Sugar? Here's another book - "You'll Never Eat Lunch In This Town Again", by Julia Phillips, former Hollywood movie executive. It details enough snow in Hollywood to make the back rooms of Warner Brothers look like the surface of the north pole. Drugs, wife swapping, you name it. Yet are they ever going to take Michael Bay or Jack Nicholson's stars off the Hollywood walk of fame? Unlikely. Why - because no one cares. Who's going to stop watching Taxi Driver? Beyond the spectacle, no one cares what people do who they don't know.

Not that I'm bemoaning the unjust prosecution of today's professional athlete for purposes of sympathy. They will be fine. I just don't expect any more out of them than I do anyone else I don't know. It's amusing that they are held to these standards - righteous standards beyond those of even other famous sects of our culture. People lie, cheat on their wives, and take drugs in all walks of life. I'm sure some hockey players are great people, some meglomaniacal pricks, and some a bit of both. Jose Canseco is talked about like a lost soul, like he's beyond hope, like reading his book is like reading Bernie Madoff or something. A look into the way the other side thinks. Yet everyone reads Keith's book like - Rock it! Same people. Cooperstown and Cleveland could have been contracted by the same parent company. When people want to think about having a good time, they live vicariously through rock and rollers. When they feel like they need to be Jesus Christ, for some reason they choose to live vicariously through these guys. No middle.

I'm not saying I feel badly for them, I'm just glad I'm not one of them. Who wouldn't want to be Keith Richards? Who would want to be Barry Bonds?



Or Jimmer Fredette. One day he's going to reveal himself as a flawed human, and all hell's going to break loose. I know The Fleet Foxes don't feel that pressure, or the next guy on the ladder at Ford.

So choose rock and roll.

James McMurtry at The Bluebird, Me at 12th and Porter

Lately I've found myself at The Bluebird Cafe a lot. For those who don't know, The Bluebird is a legendary, extremely renowned acoustic listening room in Nashville. 99% of their shows are songwriter rounds, and they have 2 rounds per night: a late round with mostly established songwriters who have lots of hits sung by other people (Montgomery Gentry, Reba MacIntyre, etc), and an early round with mostly songwriters with no hits. Sometimes you see some amazing music. People like Tony Arata, Georgia Middleman, Walt Aldridge, Rivers Rutherford...people with soul, and songs that go beyond being just hits or cuts. Then a lot of times you hear weak carbon copies of older better songs, exclusively about Jesus, whiskey, I'm-from-a-small-town, guns, mama...all fine topics, I suppose, but please - this territory has been freakin' covered. Sometimes you see everything wrong with country music rolled into one show. Last month, I happened to see a late round with 4 lunkheads who were actually worse than the early round (a rarity). Every moment was catered entirely to the "proud of my 15 IQ" crowd, much flak was given to the one guy in the round who forgot his baseball cap, and they worked hard to alienate as much of the crowd as they could with insanely stupid jokes (eg. "What's emptier than an empty soda can? A democrat's head"). Then they started gay bashing, right there the stage. And eventually - you can tell where this is going - they sang a whole gay bashing song they had written. Imagine. This isn't some hole in the wall off the highway in rural Kentucky, this is an esteemed club. Then to finish off the set, we find out that one of them is the guy who wrote "She's Country". So they all played that. Yee haw!

At the other end of the spectrum, in every conceivable way, you have James McMurtry. Here's the thing with James: he rocks. James is out of Texas, and as far as my world goes, in terms of Texas songwriters you have Townes Van Zandt, James McMurtry, and then everyone else. Guy Clark and Willie too, I'll give you that. So James played last night - part of the 1% who gets his own show - and I spent 6 weeks making sure I could be there for it. Amazing. And then...then...sadly, a tragic confluence of events made it so that I could only stand down the back hallway of the Bluebird and listen. I hadn't seen James play in about 2 years, and my soul was painfully aware of the landscapes of which it was being deprived. I used to see James all the time in Austin - he plays almost every Wednesday - and I never had to go too long to start missing him. My old guitar player Charlie is very close to him, and he used to go on about him (like a number of things, I came to find out later that Charlie was right and I was wrong). Like all of the best things ("Exile On Main Street", Bob Dylan, broccoli rabe), James took some extended exposure for me to really come around. Some things plant their talons in you and just grow. With James...there is a way of writing songs that makes you pause and breathe between the lines and notes, like in a novel. What's in the lines somehow emotes this strange shadow that makes you look for what else is there, like he's not telling you everything (and James tells you a lot). It's never finite, it can always change. It's between you and the song. It's endless. What makes it great is what is in the lines, but what makes it everlasting is what's left between them. His characters' landscapes, stories, emotions (or sometimes lack thereof) - the way they're spelled out is very real and you can practically reach out and touch them. Or at least you can feel them brush up against you like an impending tornado squall. The dry, often twisted, pain that these people go through - you feel them, and they don't leave you. And that's what James does. And the authority with which he delivers his songs! It's terrifying! Not for the faint of heart. James McMurtry as a pure singer will never be confused with Aaron Neville or Smokey Robinson, or Norah Jones. Not so much a "singer", per se. Think more Lou Reed. His voice is one of those very rare voices, like Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, whose sole timbre is the truth. "We Can't Make It Here" - 3 chords and the truth - that's it, folks. Yet embarrassing as it is to say, I routinely well up when I listen to his music - the vivid pictures and relationships he hits you with, how it could be you, me, someone we love, anyone. How can someone's voice weigh so much, and yet still walk with a light step? The unique and personal melodies he delivers, that belong only to him. He's really a one of a kind, is James. And last night I found myself welling up from the back hall (secretly, of course), listening to so many of these stories going by, too far away from me. "Ruby And Carlos", "Holiday", "Rachel's Song", "Hurricane Party"...on it went. Finally then, towards the end of the show, I was able to go sit down and watch, to close my eyes, and go there. "Levelland", "Lights Of Cheyenne", "Peter Pan". It hit me hard, maybe harder than if I'd been able to watch the whole show. It was the soundtrack of the last 5 or 6 years of my life. I'm considering driving to Birmingham Sunday night to see him again - properly. I don't think I'll ever do that for the "She's Country" guys.

James McMurtry isn't for everyone. Some of you know him, some of you don't. Ruby And Carlos came out right before I packed up and moved to Tennessee. On the studio version, my friend Harmoni sings a harmony part on the chorus. It's one of the most breathtaking fleeting audio moments I know of, I get all John Boehner every time, choking up.

Holding back the flood just don't do no good
You can't unclench your teeth and howl the way you should
So you curl your lips around
And you taste the tears and the hollow sound
That no-one owns but you
No-one owns but you



*************************

A couple of weeks back, my band and I played 12th and Porter. Like always, I unknowingly booked a gig in the middle of another Nashville initials week (CMA's, AMA's, CRS, etc etc). My friends Kevin Gordon and Rick Brantley - both excellent - were also on the bill. I think we had 14 total payed at the door. Combined! Oops. And these guys are actually pretty successful artists! But...I will say, for me it still ended up being a very memorable night. When my band and I started, there were 4 people in the crowd. Somehow, by song 3 or 4, another 10 or 15 people had trickled in (there is a lounge outside). Sad, but...what a difference! We didn't know who they were, but they were way into it and stayed for the whole show. It's a small room, so 18 people - it can feel OK. We had 3 new songs in our set, and it was the 2nd show with our newest guitar and bass players. And everybody just played great, and it was such a high! 18 people and it was one of my best band shows. It's crazy, when you forget about your expectations and just go wherever the pitch is, you can sometimes be liberated. Always...always...a pieces of my heart is broken when I put effort into getting people out to shows, and they don't come. Posters, handbills, emails, texts, blogs...and then no-one comes. You can't understand unless you've been there. You feel like what the hell are you doing with your life? We had a special long rehearsal the night before, to work up 3 new songs for this big show. Don't get me wrong, it's not like it happens every show. But when it does, oh is it brutal. It's indescribable, and it can take you to very low places. The winning thing is, though, I'm having so much fun with these guys in the band...we just said fuck it - let's just have fun and give these 4 people a night they'll not soon forget. So Jen Cancino, Larissa, Andy, Kim - thanks! We'll think about who's not here later. I'll think about how far it puts me in the financial hole later. That's the plan, let's execute.



I don't get to play with my band nearly enough (it's economics), but this night showed me that with these guys, no matter what the situation, I think we'll overcome and prevail. And it's going to happen. We've pulled it out every time, but somehow 12th and P took things to the next level, for me anyway. It was fun as shit, and I couldn't be more psyched for the next time I get to play with these guys, and show more than those 18 people what we're capable of. The club loved it, said forget the numbers, we're having you back.

As for life, Kim is doing great, Alaska is doing great, its 78 degrees, and we're cooking out tonight. Thanks for the grill, Dad.

February Shows

Greetings. It has been awhile since my last posting, I know. That's mainly because I haven't had much to do other than work on songs, and how exciting is that to blog about? Answer: not very. Here's something I'm liking....though these things aren't always finished.



I "filmed" this in Arkansas. Oh, I was in Arkansas, I did a nice weekend run through Alabama and Arkansas a couple of weeks back. Played 3 good venues - Moonlight On The Mountain in Birmingham, Poet's Loft in Hot Springs, and R. Landry's in Fort Smith (AK). In Birmingham I shared the bill with a new buddy, Kevin Gordon. Check out his website. He's got killer songs, and a refreshingly bone dry sense of humor. It also turns out we are East Nashville neighbors. Time for a few six packs and Stephen Wright DVD's, I say.

This coming week I will be playing in Louisiana and Texas.

Wed Feb 2: New Orleans, LA - Neutral Grounds Coffeehouse
Thu Feb 3: Baton Rouge, LA - Boudreaux & Thibodeaux
Sun Feb 6: AUSTIN, TX! - House Concert at Doug Marcis'
Mon Feb 7: Dallas, TX - Opening Bell Coffee

I feel like I've gone on about Austin in posts past. All I can expound is that it will be very emotional for me. And not just because of Torchy's...mmmm...Torchy's....my God.... er, but rather that Austin gave me some of the best years of my life. My home now is Nashville, with Kim and Alaska, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But I do miss Austin. I love it like no other place, because it is like no other place. Like New Orleans, New York...entirely its own special world. So help me, Austin - let's all have a great night at the Marcis/Jarry house. Screw the Super Bowl!

I've got 4 songs done and in the can for my next record. It drives me crazy not having the means to go ahead and keep on working, recording more songs for it. Sometimes I feel the only moments in which I'm truly artistically satisfied are those few days every couple of years when I find myself in a recording studio, able to arrange and properly record new material. It's the moment of payoff for all the thinking, planning, and obsessing that people like me do for the other 364 days of the year. Opening presents with the family on Christmas morning? I'm there too, thinking about what type of organ sound I should try to get for the bridge on such and such song. Staring at the Grand Canyon? I'm thinking about vocal reverb. I have a friend who is going to help me move the CD through Nashville and try to drum up some interest - label, publishing, or otherwise - some capital. In time, there will likely be a Kickstarer campaign as well, where folks like you could donate towards a set financial target for the project. If we would fail to reach that target within a specified period of time, all the money gets returned. How about that? This would ensure that what wouldn't happen would be not enough money getting raised for the project to be done right, and me thus spending all of your money on whisky.

Making my own records is most important to me. A large percentage of writers here in Nashville write songs purely for the purposes of pitching them to other artists. I'm all for that. It's something I'm working to get into, too. It's the principle reason I moved here. But I look around and know it could never, ever be enough for me on its own, I'm also always going to need to make my own records, and play to my own audiences. That's what drove me to begin all those years ago. It pisses me off, but that's how it is.

Oh, last post I told you all about that Springsteen Darkness tribute I did. As you would imagine, I felt like Rush Limbaugh in an OxyContin lab, a kid in a candy store. Here is an edit of the entire show, courtesy of this very cool videographer in town named Steve Boyle. We all appear twice, once during the album sequence itself, once later during the encores:



More soon, be well.

The Darkness Long On Players (On) The Edge Of Town

This weekend I'm involved in a really cool project. There is a band here in town called The Long Players, made up of a bunch of A-List veteran Nashville players. Core guys - Bill Lloyd, Steve Allen, Steve Ebe, John Deadrick, and Brad Jones. As The Long Players, they assemble to do album tribute shows - 47 since 2004, I believe. 2 months ago, they did "Exile On Main Street" with none other than Bobby Keys on sax. Their bass player Brad took over from the original bassist when he moved out of town 3 years ago. Garry Tallent. Yeah, that Garry Tallent. This weekend, The Long Players are doing Bruce Springsteen's "Darkness On The Edge Of Town". And I'm singing in it!

As those of you who know me know, I am a completely delirious, unjustifiably ridiculous Bruce Springsteen fanatic. While Bob Dylan and Townes Van Zandt's muses may in fact be closer to God than anywhere I'll ever visit, Bruce Springsteen's rest in our unique earthly orbit, and musically and spiritually they permeate every single artistic thing I seem to believe in. I've seen him in concert something like 11 times. I would likely have seen him more times, but until I finally had the opportunity, he hadn't really toured in any capacity that I could attend since the '80's, when I was still a child, and hadn't really grown into him yet. The first time I saw him was when he did a 15 night stand at The Meadowlands in July/August 1999. I went 4 nights. 3 were in one week.

I've grown up some since then - meaning I spend less money on concert tickets - but I have been psyched like a teenager for this show since I got the call 2 weeks ago. Last night at the rehearsal, the reminder I'd set on my phone for the show - before I was even in the show - went off right as we were starting. Is this crazy? Sometimes you just have to remember the reasons you devoted your life to music, and surrender fully to the joy. Not surprisingly, the rehearsal itself last night was one of those moments! I was telling Kim right beforehand that I didn't know the last time I was as excited for a rehearsal. I love rehearsing with my band, it's very fulfilling and is always time well spent. You learn a lot, and you get better. But...I was practically as pumped for this rehearsal as I have been for the show itself tomorrow night. I slept for only two hours the night before (for other reasons), but went on pure adrenaline. I'm almost afraid I blew my load too early, and might not have another level to go to tomorrow night!

I guess its likely that won't be a problem. One of the other reasons I'm excited about this show, though, is it's a great hang, and a great opportunity. I got involved in this sort of thing back in Austin, too, with a bunch of guys called Will Taylor and Strings Attached. Through it, I met and started working with a whole new network of people. It opened up a lot for me, things that wouldn't have happened otherwise. A bunch of new friends, a bunch of new people in the audiences. I enjoyed everything in Austin more. Looking back, my last few years in Austin were definitely my happiest years in Austin - for a few reasons, obviously. That wasn't all of it, but it certainly contributed to the picture.

Anyway...needless to say, if you can come to the show this Saturday night at Mercy Lounge (March 20) - you should. 10% of the door goes to a selected local charity. The band is so spot on, and I feel practically every singer involved will be unleashing at least part of their inner teenage fist clenching, heart thumping, boundary breakin'....EARTH QUAKIN', HISTORY MAKIN'....er, self.

If you missed it, check out Bruce with The Roots on Jimmy Fallon, I've been buzzing on this performance for 2 days. What intensity. ?uestlove - Jesus, man! Sit through the 30 second commercial, it's worth it.

Also below is something from print the day after the show.



Backing Bruce Springsteen on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon Tuesday night was a near-surreal experience for The Roots drummer ?uestlove. "During rehearsal, when the producer said, 'Ladies and gentleman, 'Because The Night' with the Professor and Little Steven, here's Bruce Springsteen and The Roots' — I couldn't move," ?uestlove tells Rolling Stone. "And they were looking at me like, 'Okay count the song off.' And I was like, I said, 'Holy shit. I heard that.'"

He adds: "I mean, I've done some intense playing on our show, but that was the most intense playing I've ever done. He completely surpassed any expectation I've ever had for any mythical god of rock figure."

In a rare talk show appearance to promote the new Darkness on the Edge of Town box set, Springsteen chatted with Fallon on the couch about everything from his brother-in-law to the setbacks of new technology. Alongside The Roots and E Street band members Steven Van Zandt and keyboardist Roy Bittan, he ripped through five-minute takes of rockers "Because the Night" and "Save My Love" — and hilariously dressed up as himself circa 1975 for his own take on Willow Smith's "Whip My Hair."

Before the show, the band rehearsed for 90 minutes, running through "Because the Night" six times and "Save My Love" four times. "[Bruce] was just like, 'Hey, you do what you do,'" ?uestlove says. "'I don't want you to be Max Weinberg. I want you to be you.'"

But soon, during a take of "Because the Night," the drummer got found himself in one of Max Weinberg's familiar dilemmas. "Bruce and Little Steven were giving me the exact opposite instructions — It was kind of like good cop, bad cop," he says.

Check out the exclusive Rolling Stone Q&A with Springsteen

"There's a moment on the bridge where Bruce said, 'You got to watch Steven's body language. He will come over, bend his knees — that means to bring the dynamics down. Play to a whisper," he adds. "But then two seconds later during the song Springsteen's looking at me like, 'Yo man,' jumping up and down and Steven is like on his knees. My band's laughing at me because they know exactly, you know, the type of quagmire I'm in right now. One guy is telling me he wants to see blood drawn because he wants me to play real powerful and the other one wants me to bring it down a little bit."

He met them in the middle. But on TV, nothing was brought to a whisper. And just as Springsteen has been known to do in arenas, the band went over their allotted set time. "If you look at the last 20 seconds [of "Because the Night"], all of us are literally in a circle. It's like no one else is in that room except Little Steven, the Professor, Bruce, and all seven of my guys," says ?uestlove. "We're totally disregarding the minute mark and the deadline. I'm surprised they got it all on there 'cause Lord knows we went 32 bars over. We were supposed to end after the end of the bridge, but we just kept going. None of that stuff was expected — the guitar solo."

But "Whip My Hair" will be the moment fans remember the most — Springsteen decked out in his classic beard, sunglasses and leather jacket while Jimmy Fallon is dressed as a 1970-era Neil Young, duetting on Willow Smith's viral hit. It was Fallon's idea, but "[Bruce] was absolutely game for it, especially dressing up as his 1975 self," says ?uestlove.

He's silent for moment. "I just got a text from Jay-Z saying he's watching right now and it's incredible."

Hallowe'en and The Who

I hope you all had a fun hallowe'en. Ours was good - in one of the more rare occurrences of my life, I actually dressed up in costume. I didn't go all out - no makeup or wig (you need to plan more than 3 hours ahead for that), but I still made the effort. I was Dio.



Or can't you tell...



It was fun, we blasted Neon Knights all the way to the Grace Potter show we attended. Kudos to Grace and co, they did a great show, one that it turns out was their tour finale. They dressed up for hallowe'en, too:



The whole show had a 'sense of occasion' vibe about it, which made it special. Kim, as usual, put a bit more thought and planning into her costume, so consequently we were Dio and a much more badass ladybug.



Good times!

Last night I was watching a thing on TV with some footage from one of the great rock performances of all times: The Who, at The Concert For New York City. It's something I've had on audio for years, but haven't seen since that night. This was one month after 9/11, and truly, as far as all time most memorable performances...I mean....Hendrix at Monterey, Dylan at Newport...whatever your poison, this is a performance to behold, and community at its finest. Everyone was happy for the first time in their new lives. Daltry, Entwistle, Zak Starkey were all on their A game, but Townsend - my god - he was possessed by something that night I don't know if I'll ever understand. I don't know if I've ever been as close to tears watching a man play guitar in my life - and this is 9 years removed from all the emotion of that time. Attacking his guitar like a goddamn F-11. You want to talk about the healing power of rock and roll, you need not look any further than this, and the faces of those heroes in attendance. There will never be another night quite like that, and there will never be another band like The Who.

And the thing that made me smile at the end, as it all came to a close, was looking down on the stage in front of Pete. 2 pedals. A cord going in, a cord connecting them, and a cord going to the amp. Woohoo!

For your viewing pleasure, here is the entire 4 song performance. I don't remember where it was in the running order of the night, but it is certainly the moment that no-one who saw it will ever forget.

Who Are You...


Baba O'Reiley...


Behind Blue Eyes...


Won't Get Fooled Again...


Long live rock!