My pal Rob Siegel wrote a book – a great, great book called “Memoirs of a Hack Mechanic”. You’ll notice that it has nothing to do with music (well, it has a little to do with music, but not much, really) – it turns out that in addition to being a marvelous songwriter, Rob is a car guy, and he’s been writing a column about cars for 25 years. I can’t recommend the book highly enough – it’s charming, deeply engaging, funny, beautifully written. And (I hope you can tell, because of these monthly missives) my standards are pretty damn high. Read more »

A while back, my pal Jon McAuliffe recommended me to the “Local Music Rocks” show on Westford Cable Access Television, hosted by Ike Keltz. For quite a while now, Ike’s been hosting local singer/songwriters in a half-hour format with music and interviews, and I was grateful to have the opportunity to do his show. Read more »

1986. I’m on a plane to Seattle, and the Seattle airport is fogged in, and we’re diverted to Portland. I’ve been minding my own business for the last six hours, but for some reason, at this point, as the plane lands in Portland, I strike up a conversation with the woman across the aisle from me. It turns out that the way they’re going to get us up to Seattle is by bus – yellow school bus, specifically, you know, the ones with enough leg room for 10-year-olds. Read more »

Every month or so, I go to the open mike at the Lizard Lounge. There are a ton of reasons I like to go to the Lizard Lounge – cool scene, great talent, and my favorite part: Tom Bianchi is your gracious, outrageous host. Tom is one of my favorite folks on the local music scene, first, because he works so damn hard, and second, because he really, really knows his way around a stage. I know that I can go to the Lizard Lounge and expect a couple moments, at least, of pants-wetting hilarity, thanks to Tom; and I know that when I yank his chain when he’s introducing me, he’ll give as good as he gets. Just a class act, and one hell of a performer. Read more »

I come from a family of musicians, of various shapes and sizes. My brother, you may recall, has a doctorate in modern classical composition, and is a marvelously talented jazz player in Washington, DC – he plays bass, guitar, and now, apparently, piano. My mom was a singer and pianist, mostly frustrated, but in the later part of her life, quite serious about her voice. Me, you know, presumably. Read more »

The other night, I was driving out to Groton for Gayle Picard’s open mike. If you haven’t been to this particular open mike, at the Main Street Cafe, you’re missing a remarkable evening of entertainment, because Gayle’s always keeping us open mikers on our toes. For instance, if we talk during the show, she or Marc, her partner in crime, might shoot us with foam darts – the Darts of Shame. No one wants to be the target of the Darts of Shame. Read more »

Many years ago, when I first met my wife, She Who Must Be Taunted, the woman who fixed us up lent her a cassette tape that I’d made, called “Entering Harmony”. I thought the title was pretty clever; the photo on the cover was of me, standing under a sign for Harmony, Rhode Island, the hometown of woman I’d been dating when I recorded the cassette. I thought the music was pretty clever, too; the singing, well, what did I know, is what it came down to. Read more »

As you may very well know, I’m obsessed with the guitars of Michael Gurian. I have two of them, and love them unreservedly. Any of you who have heard me go on (and on, and on) about Gurian know that he made fewer than 5,000 guitars in his guitarmaking life, and a precious few of them were cutaways (you know, the guitars that look like someone took a bite out of the right upper part of the body). Read more »

I was born in New Yawk City. You may have figured this out. I spent 18 months there, tops, and it seems to have spoiled my attitude permanently. I grew up in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, next to the birthplace of rock’n’roll – great music, great radio, great art museum, great place basically to be, well, from. And then college, and then our fair city, from which you could not dislodge me with Semtex. Read more »

You might be wondering, faithful fan, about the progress of my next album. I can just see you, late at night, tossing and turning, with one thought running over and over through your head: “When? When? When will I be able to bask in your next dose of genius? When?” (This may be a hallucination on my part, but humor me – my ego could use a boost nowadays). The answer is: not anytime soon. Read more »