Dead Heads ~ Running Things

"I ran into a rainstorm..."

2008-07-03T11:14:00.002-04:00

BreakingNewsOn is reporting that tropical storm Bertha has formed in the Eastern Atlantic.

Summer Hullender - Ain't No Sunshine

2008-06-24T20:51:00.001-04:00

Riverbend 2008, Chattanooga, TN, USA
Summer Hullender, lead vocal
Shani Hedden, backing vocal
Joe Lance, guitar
Kenny Palmer, bass
Mark Trundle, drums
Words and Music by Bill Withers

Summer Hullender - Give Me One Reason

2008-06-21T20:36:00.001-04:00

Riverbend 2008:
Summer Hullender, lead vocal, rhythm guitar;
Shani Hedden, backing vocal;
Joe Lance, lead guitar;
Kenny Palmer, bass;
Mark Trundle, drums;
Words and Music by Tracy Chapman

Test from Ping.fm

2008-06-21T09:57:00.001-04:00

Not only that, but testing using the Ping.fm gadget for iGoogle.

Happy Jerry Days

2007-08-01T13:04:00.000-04:00

August 1, 1942 – August 9, 1995

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Mockingbirds

2007-07-15T13:35:00.001-04:00

Okay, so I don't have seven. But I read a local news story recently that got me to thinking about mockingbirds.

The story was about a person who was dive-bombed several times by a feisty mockingbird while walking a short distance outdoors (downtown, even). Why did this happen? It used to happen to me, too, all summer long in the back yard. When the weather was good, my Mom would hang clothes out to dry, to save on energy costs (not to mention to get that free, natural scent in the fresh laundry). As one would be heading to and from the clotheslines, mockingbirds would loudly squawk and rather fiercely attack. Most of their attention went to whatever cat we had at the time, but they were known to peck and scratch a person's head. All they were doing, like the one downtown, was protecting their nests. With a vengeance.

Another thing about mockingbirds is that they learn to mimic whatever other birds they're around. I remember that in springtime, the ones just returning from more tropical climes had some exotic notes in their call, which would slowly fade to the more indigenous thrushes and warblers over the summer.

Fast forward to now, in Chattanooga: at least one mockingbird in the neighborhood has incorporated the unmistakable call of the Pileated Woodpecker, of which there is at least one pair in the area, into its nonstop medley. It drives me crazy, because I'll hear it and go running for the camera, only to then realize that it was the mockingbird's brief "cover" of the other creature's song. I do still see and hear the pileateds from time to time, and that's the good news.

Finally, mockingbirds are one of a few avian species that sings at night. I can be out at two in the morning (not a habit, but it happens), and hear one just rocking out into the darkness. That's one more reason to admire this amazing bird, which is the state bird of Tennessee (and of several other states).

Bonnaroo 07 Video

2007-07-10T23:06:00.000-04:00

It's not the best, but it's my piece. Enjoy.

Live Earth Awards

2007-07-09T17:08:00.000-04:00

It has taken a couple of days for it all to sink in, but after live-blogging the Live Earth concerts all day Saturday (something like fourteen hours), I think I'm now ready to present the winners of the first-ever Live Earth Awards, brought to you exclusively by Dead Heads ~ Running Things. Please note that these awards only cover acts that I actually saw and heard at least some of. The judging, not to mention the nominations, let alone the award category creation, were all done solely by me. (UPDATE: I think I'll call them the "Gories.") You are welcome to add your reactions in the Comments.

Most Impassioned Performance
Winner: Melissa Etheridge
Runner-up: Foo Fighters

Most Bass Players
Winner: Spinal Tap
Runner-up: Madonna (if you saw Spinal Tap, you get it)

Most Exalted Ego
Winner: Sting
Runner-up: Madonna

Most Apparently Wasted
Winner: Taking Back Sunday
Runner-up: Akon

Most Elaborate Stage Production
Winner: Madonna
Runner-up: Roger Waters

Most Rockin' Band
Winner: Foo Fighters
Runner-up: Wolfmother

Most Bare Skin
Winner: Pussycat Dolls
Runner-up: Tie between Flea and Fergie (Black-Eyed Peas)

Most Confused about Global Warming
Winner: KT Tunstall ("eat more soil?")
Runner-up: Rihanna (thinks an umbrella will help)

Best Overall Audio Quality
Winner: Genesis
Runner-up: Abingdon Boys School

Most Worshipped by Crowds
Winner: Al Gore
Runner-up: Spinal Tap

Most Weird
Winner: 12 Girls Band
Runner-up: Black-Eyed Peas

Most Ancient
Winner: Roger Waters
Runner-up: Genesis

Most Chill
Winner: Nunatak
Runner-up: Jack Johnson

Most Drums
Winner: SOS All Stars
Runner-up: Stewart Copeland

Most Deserving of a Second Listen
Winner: Kenna
Runner-up: Abingdon Boys School

Most Disappointing
Winner: Duran Duran
Runner-up: Smashing Pumpkins

Most Awesome Without Fitting One of These Other Categories
Winner: Beastie Boys
Runner-up: Tie between Alicia Keys and Red Hot Chili Peppers

Critiquing Live Earth (as shown on Bravo TV) (and MSN)

2007-07-08T14:27:00.000-04:00

(Cross-posted from my civics blog)

So far, on Bravo's coverage, I've seen Jack Johnson, Wolfmother, Crowded House, and Linkin Park.

I've liked them all, except Linkin Park. They just don't do it for me. Maybe the singer's in-ear monitors aren't working right, but he's very flat.

Neil Finn played a gorgeous Gold Top Les Paul, and made those mini-humbuckers sing a little bit in his solos. Full disclosure: the very first band I was in, as a college freshman, learned "Don't Dream It's Over" as one of our first covers.

Wolfmother got cheated. The broadcast only aired one song, "Woman," and though it was a good performance, I wanted more. Those guys put on a great rock 'n' roll show (as I witnessed firsthand at Bonnaroo).

The two "hosts" that yammer in between acts are quite annoying. Shut up, you two, and play some music.

Ed Begley's hawking his eco-wares. Even if you don't share his views or take them to the same extent, you have to admit that he's no phony (or else he's very good). Mock Madonna and other stars who "care," but Ed's cool.

Don't know this Rihanna person, but initial sounds indicate that it's an okay time to take the dog out or something. There are a lot of people on stage, but I think most of the music you hear is pre-recorded and/or triggered samples.

The boy is fascinated (as am I) with all the different percussion instruments employed by SOS Allstars. I especially like the giant taiko drum, along with the temple bells. Genesis is on now, playing "Turn It On Again" (I thought we were supposed to switch it off?) a bit lower-pitched than the original (like the Police are doing on some songs — I guess twenty-plus years will do that for ya, even if you're Sting or Phil Collins).

Trey, who's 2, on seeing the 12 Girls Band playing in Shanghai: "Huh?" My thoughts exactly. East meets West, I guess. Maybe they should stay apart.

More Rihanna. Potty break. Something about her, um, berella. Whatever that is.

Dude's sitting there with his MacBook. I hope he's reading my blog.

Cool. Cold, actually. From Antarctica, Nunatak is made up of scientists. For a bunch of geeks, they rock pretty well. I mean, just saying. You're at the bottom of the world, in Winter, even, and you make do with the instruments (violin, saxophone) that you've got. That's a pretty red Epiphone (I think). These folks are nothing if not brave. I've heard a lot worse. No word on how many fingers were lost to frostbite.

Sarah Brightman wows the Chinese audience with what seems to me to be a rather medium-intensity performance. A decade out of school will make one forget the name of one of the world's most popular arias. Then again, opera has never been my forte.

Shakira is on now. Her mix of Latin/world music and straight-up pop, with a little urban flavor mixed in, is somewhat interesting, but not something I'll go out and buy. She seems to enjoy presenting her visual presence (read: shaking her stuff). Decent congero. That sparkly pink guitar prop is a bit much.

Snow Patrol: I've heard this song, but have never known who did it. Dang moody bands all sound alike. Their performance was solid, however.

I need to do some work around the house. Enjoy the Black-Eyed Peas, if you can.

Duran Duran are indeed past their prime. Their anemic performance is only partially saved by John's bass. They started to bring it a little bit at the end there.

Blue Man Group, sans Tobias Fünke? Sad. I'm sure he was in the wings, painted up and ready.

Genesis on again with "Land of Confusion." Chester Thompson sure gives his kit a workout. His ride cymbal sounds as clear as a crystal goblet.

The Peppers are on. No socks. This is one of the best performances of the day so far. The whole family's ears perked up.

Can't do Garth Brooks. Back in a while.

Ah, more Red Hot Chili Peppers. I know they're not their old crazy selves, but I'm glad they survived all that and are still around, because, even though I am tempted to think I'm just old by saying this, they still rock.

Not keen on Keane? I'm not sure I am either. Even though Coldplay is watered-down Radiohead and thus fit for grocery store aisles, I rather enjoy their sound; but Keane is like poor man's Coldplay, and that's just not enough.

Snoop Dogg in Hamburg got cheated even more than Wolfmother. Just as I was getting into it, his portion stopped.

Sad but true: I used to like Metallica. I thought Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets were great records, and even liked most of …And Justice for All. Then they took away my Napster. Now they want you to know about global warming. That doesn't exactly jive with "Kill 'em All," does it?

Now the US (NY-Giants Stadium) show is on. Kenna is out of control. (Somebody had to say that.) Not bad for an opener. His band seems tight, and his sort of eclectic sound is intriguing enough.

Reruns of Rihanna? I want my money back. Speaking of which, I want it back from Bill Gates, or whoever heads Microsoft now. Because of MSN, I can't view the actual live coverage in its optimal form, because I don't use Internet Explorer. So I decided to go with the Bravo (which is NBC (GE)) coverage, and it hasn't been my favorite.

KT Tunstall: what can I say? Not much, apparently. I was trying out the Quicktime version online, and heard her say something like "so unplug your phone chargers, and eat more...soil, or something." Brilliant advice, there. That, and inciting the crowd to "do the wave," cause me not to be that much of a fan. What's with the backup singers with the matching haircuts? Is this Robert Palmer revisited? Guitar envy time: dude's Firebird. But I'm not with the "found objects percussion" pretentiousness. Lose the trash can lid.

I had never heard of Taking Back Sunday before today. I just read their Wikipedia entry, and it appears that practically the whole band is different people than when the group started. Maybe the original guys sounded better than this. They may have taken back Sunday, but they need to go ahead and leave me my Saturday, thank you.

Oh, and look what I was missing. The boy wanted to watch a movie, so we turned off the tv coverage. I tuned into the UK and am now listening to the Beastie Boys with my headphones. It was the last song. Drat.

Back to New York, for Keith Urban and Alicia Keys. So confusing: the London feed had them, but I switched over for better sound, and it's a different song by Keith, with no Alicia. This isn't working out so well all of a sudden.

An obviously South American band is on the DC stage. I've loved the mystical sounds of the pan pipes and those itty bitty guitars (with, like, 18 strings on them) since childhood.

Around the world some more: Abingdon Boys School is a seemingly Queensrÿche-influenced rock band from Japan. They are technically proficient. Not bad at all, in fact! Can get a little too pop, but generally rock with a youthful fierceness.

A Chinese singer doing bossa nova: now that's a more comfortable East meets West than was experienced earlier today.

Nope, don't like AFI. Sorry. "Love Like Winter" is okay, but I can do without these guys for the most part. In fairness, they are now covering David Bowie. That's almost never bad.

I fought the Foo, and the Foo won. Dave Grohl invites the London audience to sing "there goes my hero" for Al Gore. Hee. They're sounding good. I

Hey, where's Spinal Tap? The Germany feed has them, but being played over the system there. They're supposed to be in London, right? Just checked Left of the Dial, and it seems that they were on while I was wasting time with KT Tunstall. Bum-MER.

Madonna has children on stage with her. Is that allowed? Didn't know she played guitar. I do like this song, "Ray of Light." Someone tuning a violin made it into the audio feed. Now she's doing what she does best: cavorting with gay male dancers. This is a big production.

John Mayer, meanwhile, is playing some blistering Stratocaster on the US side of the pond.

Back to Bravo, which is just now showing Mayer. Not every one of his songs is as good as the ones I spoke of earlier.

Second time I've heard Marvin Gaye covered today, this time by Alicia Keys, whose band sounds really good. She's awesome, in fact.

Dave Matthews Band just got started, and Dave broke a string. He made a funny gesture while he was guitarless, playing his own air guitar. It's all fixed now. People with techs and roadies have it made. (And is that trumpet player also a bodyguard?)

Checking in on the live feed, it's Kanye West. He has an interesting ensemble, including harp. The string players have painted faces.

Kelly Clarkson's being broadcast on the Bravo. I've never really listened to her. I need a break, so I guess Kelly and Kanye will have to catch me another time.

Ditto Bon Jovi. A walk around the block with the whole family (including dog, but not cat) was nice, but the mosquitoes were not.

NASA expert Jim Hanson (with grandchildren) says that coal-fired power plants that do not capture their CO2 output are the single greatest danger in terms of climate change. Now, the Smashing Pumpkins.

Billy Corgan, I should say. I know he wouldn't sound the same without his cohorts, but it has always been obvious that he sits in the driver's seat.

Just saw a clip of Nunatak on regular NBC.

Roger Waters is singing "Money." Very good. Oops, though, missed a change there, Roger. And see, it takes two guitarists to equal one David Gilmour. Hah.

Beastie Boys on NBC. Hurry.

My evening has entered into a pure frenetic state, as I try to keep track of two video streams and two TV channels and, let's not forget, two humans with whom I share a home life. I think I'm going back to just Bravo, but I keep trying to find a replay of Spinal Tap.

"Another Brick in the Wall (Part II)" — more kids on stage. And, goodness knows, a giant flying pig. I can't believe some other guy is playing David's solos like that. They're well done, I will say that; but if I were Gilmour, I'd be sitting there saying "man, play your own licks." Can't the Floyd just get back together?

Wearing down, I am. I don't know how much more of this I can do. It sure has been fun, for the most part.

The Police sound pretty much the same as they did at Bonnaroo, so far, but Sting seems more into this show. Andy Summers still looks apathetic, for the most part. Maybe it's just me. He did just look up and smile. (I can't talk. When I play, I stare at my guitar neck, the floor, or the back wall the whole time.) "Can't Stand Losing You" went straight into "Regatta de Blanc," with Sting encouraging a sing-along. Then back into "Can't," with a sloppy sort of ending.

John Mayer's playing "Message" with them. Huh. Harmonizing, sort of. Stewart Copeland accents like no one else. Now Kanye West is rhyming over the changes. "SOS." I get it.

Al Gore coming on now to say goodnight. Sting introduced him as, among other things, "a bass guitarist."

I guess that's it. Let's do this again sometime.

Now where my Tap?

Life Is Nothing but a Path to the Grave

2007-06-21T22:33:00.000-04:00

Sometimes the trail is lined with sweet flowers, and other times one is hacking through bramble thickets while stumbling over rocks.

For some, the road is long; for others, it is short.

Nevertheless, it always leads to the same place.

That is all.

Lucy and Sadie

2007-05-31T19:42:00.001-04:00

The Black Boxer

2007-05-27T09:27:00.000-04:00

There is something uniquely exhilarating about realizing that one is dreaming in the midst of a dream. In my case, unfortunately, this sensation rarely lasts long, and I wake up. The adrenaline-type rush also makes it difficult to return to sleep.

I've read up on what some call "lucid dreaming," but I have neither the time to practice getting better at it nor the money to attend swanky conferences in Hawaii.

Last night I found myself standing in the den in the house in which I grew up, petting a very large dog, even for its breed (Boxer). Another distinctive feature of this dog was its colour: a shiny black. (From the linked Wikipedia article: "The Boxer does not carry the gene for a solid black coat color and therefore purebred black Boxers do not exist.") I found myself thinking about how much the dog had grown since the last time I saw it.

Wait — the last time I saw it? Suddenly I realized that I had seen this dog in a recent dream, and that I was also dreaming at the moment. The electric charge I felt coursing through my nervous system upon this awareness caused me to wake, and I was left with only the memory.

If I let my imagination run wild, here is a spooky twist to ponder. My dad died just over 3 years ago. I have been "visited" by him (or his memory, whatever) several times in dreams, and almost every time he has come by to announce an upcoming change in his afterlife. The last such visit was quite some time ago (I need to start blogging these to keep track), and he was about to leave a basically human-like form/format and enter what my subconscious understood at the time as "The Dark Tank." It really wasn't a tank per se, but was liquid and two-dimensional, an infinite plane of black, silent absorption. He was letting me know that he would be there for a while. An analogy that comes to mind is that of a caterpillar entering a cocoon, where it "melts" and later transforms into a moth or butterfly.

Here's the kicker: the last weeks of Dad's life were spent in hospice care in a medical bed that was placed in the den. He died in the same room in which I have lately found myself standing and becoming acquainted with this dog, in at least two dreams. Now, I'm not suggesting that he has been "reincarnated as a dog," in the juvenile understanding that many Westerners attach to this concept. I don't profess to understand the spiritual world, mostly because I cling to the notion that there is a scientific explanation for everything in it, such as, for example, sub-atomic routines related to what we know as "memory," which defy our current "knowledge" of time and space.

But is there not a chance that the "soul" (for serious lack of a better term) of my late father is traversing unknown pathways that occasionally intersect with the unconscious meanderings of still-living offspring's minds? And if that's so, then there is no reason I know of to doubt that my end of this interaction would, for whatever reason, ascribe a form to this entity. And so, though I currently don't know why such a form would be a friendly, youthful, big shiny black Boxer, I simply cannot rule it out.

2006-07-28T23:11:00.000-04:00

John Bailes Commercial #2

2006-07-26T22:18:00.000-04:00

Well, YouTube Me!

It's amazing.

How I Know It Is Summer

2006-07-14T09:12:00.000-04:00

As if the stifling heat and suffocating humidity weren't enough, I also experience an uptick in strange, prescient dreams and other so-called "paranormal" happenings. July and August are the "hottest" months wherein this type of activity occurs.

Now that I've outed myself as a wacko, let me illustrate. I had a dream last night that I was stopped by the side of the road, and was stepping out of (not my) car, when a dog walked out of the roadside brush within about ten feet of the front of the car. My location was, as best as I can recall, on the East side of Missionary Ridge. (Picture I-24W going over the ridge but as a two-lane road instead of an interstate.) It was twilight.

The animal, however, wasn't a dog. In my dream, I said aloud (to myself) "that's a coyote! Right here in the city!" It was an extremely vivid image:
the coyote stepped out of the brush,
I paused in exiting the vehicle as I identified it,
it looked at me,
then it walked away. The dream either ended or moved on into some unrelated scene right after that.

But I didn't remember having that dream at all -- until I was browsing Chattanoogan.com and found this story. Then the image of that coyote on Missionary Ridge snapped into my mind, and I had to blog it. Even now I'm struggling to determine that it actually was a dream, and that I didn't see a coyote on an evening drive somewhere recently. But I haven't stopped on the side of the road since my Valentine's Day car breakdown, and I know it wasn't then.

Okay, Joe, this was just one little dream, and one little Chattanoogan.com recycled press release. But 1) they happened on the same day, and B) I swear this kind of thing happens somewhat frequently, but mostly during the "dog days" of Summer. I've been keeping mental track since 1998, and I really should have been keeping a better written record.

If this gives you a good laugh, I'm glad I provided humor. Laughter is a good thing. If you take it even slightly as my honest word, which is how it is given, I hope I've enabled your mind's question factory. Questioning is also a good thing.

And, for what it is worth, there are coyotes in Chattanooga, and somehow my unconscious seems to have known that before my conscious mind did.

Wee Nid Beeger Wans

2005-04-01T07:54:00.000-05:00

"Bigger what?" I thought. Mind-buckets, came the answer. Bigger buckets to hold all of these oversized, sloshing pools of thought.

Reflections from the Coral Caves

2005-02-27T07:54:00.000-05:00

Do you know that Pink Floyd "song," "Echoes?" Yeah, the one that was on the second side (back when there were sides) of Meddle. It wasn't just on Side Two, it was Side Two. It is an epic, some might say a masterpiece, that from the first "bing" of Richard Wright's keyboard has certain listeners captivated all the way through to the end.

And I, ever the fool, am trying to work up a version of it on solo acoustic guitar. I don't think the problem is that I have some illusion that I'll be able to pull it off; I think the problem is that I don't know any fellow musicians that would want to play music like this with me and thus make it a heck of a lot easier: so I sit around and, not knowing what else to play by myself for my 4-month-old son, try to play "Echoes." (It does take up some of the time needed to get him to go to sleep.)

I just don't know how to emulate the seagulls, the squishy funk sounds, the haunting space-y vortex, or the triumphant "1812-esque" recapitulation, on my Yamaha FG-335.

Any suggestions?

2005-02-09T20:48:00.001-05:00

dead head 2

2005-02-09T20:48:00.000-05:00

dead head 1

2005-02-09T20:47:00.000-05:00

running things

Gin and Gang

2005-02-09T20:18:00.000-05:00

It's interesting in some small way that quite a few mixed drinks contain ingredients that are generally thought to aid health along with ingredients that simply get you drunk. Nirvanic fruit juices & tonics (roots and herbs) often offset the devilish distillations.

Mix in 1 Audience

2005-01-31T18:35:00.000-05:00

Now we get to the essential trinity: Musician-Musician-Host, where "Host" can be a person, a small gathering, or a huge festival. When there are listeners to the interactive process described below, a dynamic connection is created that is much stronger and more lasting than that among just the musicians. I have both been and seen the adulating fan whose joy cannot be measured when this connection is made and sustained for however-short a time. Those otherwise fleeting moments garner permanent homes in the psyche.

That is more amazing when one considers that it all stems from a series of vibrations that are generated by one human and received/interpreted by another. Do you hear the same thing that I hear? How would we ever tell? I taught Music Theory for 2 years as a grad assistant, and the Ear Training segments of this subject are among the most fascinating -- especially from the perspective of the instructor. I know, then, that when I would give dictation (wherein the students would be given a starting pitch and then were expected to write out a short passage using only their interval-recognition skills), the intent was for each person to be hearing the same thing, or close enough to it. This scenario is quite different from that of a concertgoer's unique relationship with a performer-group. The fellow audience member may hear such a personalized version, depending on many factors, that it may be impossible to compare my listening experience to hers.

But then again, we all know when to chime in with the phrases that the crowd sings, so on some level, we are all in the same musical place. This is the simple equation; and there are those of us who believe that this connection, among a group of performers and their listeners and the music itself, is capable of reaching such intensity and density that cosmic forces are affected.

Music tonight

2005-01-30T13:20:00.000-05:00

Why is there a band? What prehistoric forces congealed to drive us into forming musical ensembles? Even though there are many variations on musical groups (think clarinet choir), a general framework that has become patterned in instrumental formats is the idea of some people strumming, some people tooting, and still others banging on stuff (all of whom may at times be accompanying the hollering done by themselves or others). In this framework, there is also someone responsible for the "train engineer" role, which in Western harmony usually belongs to the bass instrument. The traditional rock band lineup is simply a variation on this pattern.

I've enjoyed plucking guitar strings and listening to the outcome since I was just a few months old (you can ask my Mom). I still haven't heard all of the tones that can be generated by one open guitar string. But the act of playing by oneself and listening to that output as input is really circular, like, and can create some unwanted feedback. People like me often say that one of the best experiences a person like me can have is to interact musically with at least one other person.

The truth is that just about everyone does this at some level. The intervals (distance between 2 notes) found in universal sing-song phrases (calling someone's name from afar, saying "NAh na nah BOoo boo") and the rhythmic elements to speech as affected by different emotions are evidence to support the theory that we connect to each other in a musical sphere (in addition to the cognitive and many other paradigms) while engaging in spoken language.

Is that how the band got started, or was it the other way around? What kind of music did people listen to in the Stone Age?

Set Opener

2005-01-28T08:45:00.000-05:00

"Time changes everything," sang Bill Monroe. As if to prove him right, here I am, a married (twice now) father of a three-month-old, a homeowner, a Fortune 500 corporation employee, a "well-trained amateur who gets some gigs" trying desperately to evolve into a "semi-pro musician."

Ten years ago I was undergoing high anticipation of a 4-night run at the Omni in March, that for three nights of which I had mail-order tickets. It turns out that last Atlanta show was the last one I saw.

I'm still driving the same car, but that's about the only constant. The radio and tape player have long since given up, so it's a "quiet ride." It gives me time to think.

I was a joe-come-lately, to be sure, as I waited to see the Grateful Dead until after they had taken the previous 27 years to "get it ready for me." While growing up, I never liked what I knew of the band, even through the MTV era when "Touch of Grey" found them a great many new "friends." I started listening -- really listening -- as a senior in college, to a dorm buddy's own, acoustic renditions of "Jack Straw" and "Wharf Rat." Then he loaned me some bootlegs, of course, and I'm sure you can guess the rest, but it was literally a matter of months before I was miles away in Charlotte, NC for one of the single greatest experiences of Life as I've known it to date.

This didn't start out to be about me, it's about you out there -- you who also may have shorn some locks and "grown up" and are busy being fine average citizens -- but when you drive by me, I can hear your CD/MP3 player just fine, and you're playing "Tennessee Jed," circa 1982 at 7 AM in a plain burgundy car that has no stickers and no personalized "R U KIND" license plates. I want to tell you, all of you, that I love you and miss you.

I also want to find out where you are, what you're doing, how the (perhaps) only common thread among our lives is (or isn't) helping to shape the communities we inhabit, the choices we make, the dreams to which we awaken -- in short, the Future.

And lastly for today, as wrong as I know it to be in many ways, I want to play their songs. I want to play their songs, not by myself sometimes, but with a whole band of plugged-in, tuned-up aficionados. But more on that later....