“Rock forth and prosper.” 

I probably own somewhere between two dozen and two thousand instrument cables. But of course, this week, in a brief spate of domesticity and personal life, I completely unloaded the van to transport people instead of gear.  Now, I’m on a gig with no instrument cables because I forgot to grab a few. So I found the closest music store and went in and bought one. The guy behind the counter rings me up, hands me the cable, and says, “Rock forth and prosper.” That alone was worth it.

Rock legends...and pizza... 

The other night I sat in the green room over pizza catered from some  local place (apparently a favorite of the stage crew), talking for about twenty minutes with Stu Cook, bassist and founding member of Creedence Clearwater Revivial, about how they started out, songwriting, touring, the business has changed in the FIFTY PLUS years they've been playing, and how he says, thanks to kids longing for genuine music with simplicity and authenticity, he feels CCR is actually more popular now than they were in their late 60s and early 70s heyday. And all I could think was "Son of a BITCH, this is the best goddamned pizza I've ever had in my life."

Back to Belgium in 2019! 

2019 tour dates are coming in, and The JT traveling musical circus returns to Belgium on May 5th and again September 28th.  A magical land where the hotels have beer vending machines in the lobby.  Be more like Belgium!  And the first show is in part of Antwerp called - what else? - BEERSE.

Oh, that pesky mirror... 

Whenever I find myself constantly bitching about someone else's behavior, I eventually, inevitably, realize that it's because I find myself guilty of behaving in precisely that same manner myself.  That's what is really pissing me off.  It's called projection, and it's a bitch.  And damn, it's tough to admit that, but I probably stand a better chance at getting on with my day - and my life - once I do.

And yes, you do it, too.  Let's all work on this!  

Join us at the Paramount Theater Wednesday for an ASS-kickin'... 

Come join me Wednesday night when I get blown off the stage and get my ASS kicked!  Which is always good when it's - literally - a legendary rhythm section doin' the kickin'. 

Creedence dudes: WHACK! 

JT: "Thank you sir, may I have another?" 

Creedence dudes: WHACK! 

JT: "Thank you sir, may I have another?" 

Creedence dudes: WHACK! 

JT: "Thank you, sir..."

Sideburns, bell-bottomed-jeans, and better drugs... 

I am always fascinated by what it must have been like to make recordings in the 70's, and as a musician, I would love to be reincarnated in that era. Technology had moved past the limitations of the 50s and 60's, but had not yet busted wide open into the rampant laziness and abdication that MIDI and sampling brought about in the 80s. There's plenty of great (and shitty) music being made today, but everything it's missing is encapsulated in this video. No unlimited tracks or "undo" button; you had to be resourceful and spend TIME on the song, figuring out how best to bring it to its fruition. Note the one dude recalling how he said, "...but HOW will we do it?" I still catch myself saying, "Fuck you guys, just sample somebody's voice, fire up a click, line the shit up and get on with it." And you don't really think this song is that much of a big deal until you realize when it was made and what they had to work with.

They can't buy it if you're giving it away... 

Kid who works at the venue, after the show tonight: “Hey JT, that song ‘All I Ever Wanted’ is awesome, but on Spotify I can only hear part of it and then you start talking over it.”

JT: “That’s right, if you want the whole song, you have to buy it.”

Kid: “Oh, OK (typing)...cool, I just bought it." 

Why a gamey,street-level musician like me can figure this out and an entire industry couldn’t before it committed suicide is something I will never ever understand. 


Bug in your ear... 

OK, more tales from the darkside of gigging. Just as I was about to go on tonight, something flew into my ear. And stayed there. To the point where it was flapping around inside and I couldn’t get it out. I went into the men’s room and tried water, the blow dryer, anything I could, and I could still feel - and HEAR - it fucking around in there (and it was LOUD). I came out and went on and made it through one song with this shit, and then took my vodka and grapefruit and poured it in there. It finally came flying out during a high note in the second song. What really pisses me off is that it didn’t even have the decency to offer to buy the next round.

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