It's here! It's finally here!! aka... "Lookin' at Luckey," the video...

As promised, here it is fuckers:

This brings back wonderful memories of:

- How perfectly Sonora embodied "Luckey" for those three days of shooting.  I felt as if I was back with the real "Luckey" the whole time
- Brianne and Sara shining lights past the Thunderbird while Nate rocked it up and down, over and over and over...
- Sonora sitting perfectly still, take after take, for those shots in the living room of me rocking out
- Sara hitting her (not plugged in) keyboard so hard it made her fingers hurt trying to get noise out of it
- Sharing those wonderful bottles of water-wine on the roof
- The lady in the park who repeatedly demonstrated how many times Bill Withers says "I know" in "Ain't No Sunshine"
- Those Fucking Jibs
- The wonderfully weird boat parade on the Willamette River that night
- How much Kelly's Olympian didn't give a fuck
- How smoking way too many cigarettes in a row feels
- How many times someone commented on how I look like Ryan Adams
- How I loved it every time someone commented on how I look like Ryan Adams (one of my favorite artists ever)
- Getting to sit in an actual Thunderbird and how unworthy I was
- Thinking of how many fucking talented people were in that apartment that night

I could never thank Kevin Pietila enough for taking my Asperger's, non-visual memories of Luckey and somehow creating this.  It is beyond my comprehension how talented he is.

I am so grateful to all the talented people involved:  Kevin Pietila, Sara Morris, Brianne Kathleen, Jon Fickes, Sonora Mindwerl, Nate Ernst, Colby and, of course, me (just kidding, kind of).  They say it takes a village, but we did it with less people, more hard work and more skill.  But most of all, we did it...

"Lookin' at Luckey" the live-action version aka... music videos are awesome

"Lookin' at Luckey" comes alive!

(editors note:  this was supposed to go up Tuesday.  Not sure why it didn't.  Fucking computers and internet things...)

GREEN BAY PACKERS WEEKLY UPDATE:

Unfortunately, I was unable to watch a single second of the Packers game as I was busy doing this:

THIS WEEK IN MUSIC:

I was shooting a music video for "Lookin' at Luckey" this past weekend which was a fucking blast.  I got to work with some amazing people including the absurdly brilliant writer/director, KEVIN PIETILA, and the beyond beautiful and wonderfully-talented lead actress, SONORA MINDWERL.  And that's not including my other ridiculously awesome friends SARA MORRIS, BRIANNE KATHLEEN and A VIEW OF EARTH FROM THE MOON'S VERY OWN (JUST LIKE) JON FICKES.  It was truly a blessing to have so much artistic energy in the room(s) when making this fucker.  I had such a fun time despite learning that I am not quite as brilliant an actor as I assumed I once was.  That honor goes to Sonora and Jon Fickes, who were wonderful when "action" was called.  Give me a guitar, mic and a crowd and I'm in my element.  Give me words to say and a camera in my face and... not my element so much.  Although, I used to do a fantastic Jack Black/Tenacious D-type impression given the right audience.  I passed my high school speech class with a Bob Marley song ("Redemption Song") and Jack Black inspired improvised speech/performance.  I was tasked with performing this improvised speech in front of my whole graduating class later on, which I guess means it was pretty good.  So, I have that going for me, which is nice...

We did a lot of amazing things during the video but perhaps my favorite was this:

What a beautiful car that I am so undeserving to even sit in...  This Thunderbird was amazing.  It's lucky you can't see below the waist on these shots.  Boners upon boners...

Anyways, more updates for you soon... So tired... Who knew video shoots were more draining than recording sessions?

New Jon(athan) Fickes material? Hell yes! aka... Fruit Pies strikes again!

A VIEW OF EARTH FROM THE MOON'S DEBUT SINGLE/VIDEO FOR "DISTANCE RUNNER" AND, OF COURSE, SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS...

As promised, here is part II of this weeks blog.  I wrote more than I anticipated about my beloved Green Bay Packers and then got caught up watching silly BRETT FAVRE VIDEOS, then LIVE GENESIS VIDEOS (Phil is such an underrated singer, probably due to his obsession with pleated pants), then SHAKIRA VIDEOS (goddamn, she's so sexy, like, way too fucking sexy), then, at five or six bourbons in, I forgot what I was doing and starting watching "Skins" on Netflix (Cassie still breaks my heart in each episode she's in) before drinking a glass of Kava and finally falling asleep...  Wait, what was I talking about again?  Oh yeah, music.

THIS WEEK IN MUSIC:

This week revealed the long-awaited debut single, and accompanying video, from Jon(athan) Fickes' new project called A View of Earth from the Moon.  The song, "Distance Runner," gives us a taste of what we can expect from his upcoming album "Closer to a Ghost" which will be released this Friday, 12/1/2017.  And, holy shit, if this is the taste, I can't wait for the fucking meal.

In "Distance Runner," Fickes is hurling choruses at us straight down from pop-heaven, delivering cheeky, yet clever (and seemingly throwaway, yet casually brilliant), lines like "your mind is like a blender, you're like a banana" while drenching us in wonderfully warm, distorted,  Oasis-style guitars that really tie the song together.  The crux of the song finally reveals itself when Fickes earnestly, and perhaps desperately, asks "Are you running away?  Or, are you chasing something?"  The juxtaposition of this revelation against the almost willfully-deceiving upbeat nature of the song underscores the sadness Jonathan is barely trying to hide from the world while calling for us to let it out and join him.  He knows what he's doing, and I love every minute of it.

There's a joy that comes through the music, despite it's underlying heartache, which can probably be attributed to Jonathan taking over every aspect of the music ("I guess you could call it a solo record because this was the first time I did everything by myself. No live band in the studio, just me racking up countless hours of studio time, haha.”) and forging this into "everything I've always wanted a record to be," according to Fickes.  The established history for singer/songwriters breaking off and bogarting an album is dim, but Jonathan pulls it off beautifully.  This feels like his most developed and complete album to date.  Yes, we reveled in the effortless genius of "Never Love Again (It's Doubtful)" but that turned out to be the carefully curated charcuterie plate before this, our veal parmesan of a meal.  We knew it would be delicious, but we didn't know just how fucking delicious it would be.

The video for "Distance Runner" is equally as fun as we follow Fickes on his journey through time and space.  OK, just through space, or, at least, the 180 miles from Seattle to Moses Lake, WA (Jonathan's hometown), as he laments his inability to literally travel back in time (HUEY LEWIS STYLE) and tries to live, if only for a moment, in the past by going back to his childhood home and playing music with his old friends in the living room of his parents' house.  The video assumes the theme of Jonathan trying to run, again literally, from his current state of loneliness and disappointment by temporarily escaping the temporal world and reveling in the comfort of a fondly remembered youth.  Despite this, and after his long journey, he dutifully turns and heads back to reality; almost as if waking from the dream or realizing the idealized version of returning home doesn't exist, or perhaps having already fulfilled his nostalgic needs there's no reason to stay.  Along the way, there are countless beautifully constructed shots as we take this idyllic trip alongside Fickes.  Kudos to the director who instills us with a sense of wonder while we root for, and hope, Jonathan finds what he is looking for, knowing full well it's probably just a momentary distraction from himself that he's after.

I was lucky enough to hear the album in total and I won't spoil it, but, Jesus, you're in for a treat (and so are all the rest of you not named "Jesus").  I'll have a full album review here in the next couple weeks, as I want time to fully marinate in the tunes like a soon-to-be delicious piece of chicken.

As always, keep a good head and always carry a lightbulb...

Blasts from the past... Some of my favorite songs from people I know/knew. Also, where the fuck has this Packers team been?

Wow, sometimes I realize I've had a great life, filled with amazing experiences and beautiful music.  And sometimes I just feel good because the Packers win.  Especially against the Seahawks.  Life is good and music is my life, so music is good or something like that.  Blah, blah, blah, bourbon is delicious...

One of the most amazing things about being a musician, especially when you've been doing it as long as I fucking have, is that you get to meet and play shows with so many amazing artists along the way.  Now, don't get me wrong, most musicians/bands suck.  It's true.  It's just a fact.  The bulk of the bands I've had to sit through before unleashing my genius upon the world are just not good at all.  The amount of times I've thought "God, I hope they don't drive all the people out of the bar before I get a chance to play them songs they'll love so much they'll want to take those songs out behind the school and get them pregnant," is staggering.  But, sometimes, every once in a great while, the other bands don't suck.  In fact, sometimes they are good; really fucking good.  And I've had the pleasure of playing with some great ones.  I'd like to introduce you to a few right now.  Like now, before I start rambling like I normally do.  Because I really want to talk about the Packers win over the Seahawks which was unbelievably fucking awesome!  Where the fuck did that come from?  Seriously?!  God, I hope Damarious Randall isn't hurt too bad.  That guy is my new favorite.  I've loved him since I first saw him last season.  He just has a fucking way about him and a confidence in the way he plays that you just don't see from such a young player.  Shit, I did it again.  OK, here's the fucking music.

I love these three artists, which I'll present chronologically, and I'll give you a little insight into why they are so fucking good (which you'll find out anyways after you listen, but this is for those people who are like "I don't know, I think I'm so cool and I don't trust Bradley to recommend music even though I'm reading Bradley Wik's fucking blog."  Yeah, those people).

1.  Katie Davis - "Baby Your Eyes"

A long time ago, in a city far, far away...  OK, in Seattle in 2006 or 2007, back when I was a folk singer who had aspirations of becoming the next Bob Dylan, I met and played a few shows with Katie.  She probably doesn't remember me at all, which is fair because I was just an 18-19 year old kid who thought harmonica solos were cool.  Yes, harmonica solos.  I wish that was a fucking joke.  Also, I couldn't sing a lick and thought wearing leather jackets and sunglasses onstage was cool.  OK, so I got that one right, leather jackets are always cool.  Just not so much for someone who sweats a lot, like me.  But anyways, I was talking about Katie, not me.  I love to make everything about me.  It's kind of my thing.  Or maybe it's an Asperger's thing.  Or a delusional musician thing.  Shit, I'm still not telling you why I love this song from Katie Davis...

To best express why this song, "Baby Your Eyes," is so fucking good, let me tell you a story.  For the past 8-9 years I've had 2 songs stuck in my head.  Well, not exactly songs.  I've had 2 single-line melodies stuck in my head.  All I could remember was a single melody from these songs and nothing else.  No lyrics, not who it was, nothing "Google-able" so that I could figure out what songs were haunting my fucking waking dreams.  I hummed the melodies to everyone I knew, but no one recognized them.  So for years and years, I pried into this drug and alcohol-ridden brain trying to extract any bit of information that would help me solve this fucking Law and Order (SVU, the best one) case.  Finally, a couple weeks ago, I was drinking and going through my iTunes (a normal Tuesday night), jamming some Kenna, when I saw Katie Davis' first EP "Terrible, Terrible" on the list right above it.  I was listening to her amazing song "Los Angeles" when I wondered if she was still playing music.  I looked her up and saw she had released a second EP with three new songs, appropriately entitled "Three Songs."  I downloaded it (yes, I paid for it, assholes) and fired it up on the old Sennheiser headphones, as it was about 2am and though I wanted to blare it, I also had some sense of decorum despite my inebriated state.  The first song was great, I hadn't heard it before.  Then the second song came on and...  HOLY SHIT!  This was it!  One of the two songs that had haunted me for years (the other was the Weepies "Citywide Rodeo," in case you were wondering).  I must've heard her play it a show at some point back in the day.  But, fuck, "Baby Your Eyes" is such a masterpiece.  The thing I always loved about Katie's songwriting was that it was so advanced compared to what I was doing at the time.  So mature.  She wrote songs about real relationships and just laid those stories out for us to see/hear.  She highlighted the inadequacies we try our best to hide when we're trying to be in love with another human.  I was very jealous and very honored that she actually played a few shows with me.  I was not deserving or on her level as a musician.  But, man, I am so glad that I finally solved one mystery in my life.  Seriously, just fucking listen to this song, and, for God's sake, pay for it if you like it.

2A.  Jon Fickes/To The Sea - "A View of Earth from the Moon"

2B.  Jon Fickes/The Fraidies - "Never Love Again"

Jon Fickes has always been my favorite musician that I've ever met, hands down.  He's the most talented singer/songwriter/guitar player/fucking awesome dude that I know.  That's why he gets a two-fer, 30 Rock style.  For those hardcore Bradley Wik blog followers, you'll know I met Jon in Seattle around 2006-2007.  Jon also thought harmonica solos were fucking cool (imagine that!) and also wanted to be the next Bob Dylan.  I met him and immediately loved everything he was doing (mostly the harmonica solos) but was also instantly fucking jealous since he was better than me in every conceivable way.  He was a better singer, a better songwriter, a better guitar player and a better dresser (he looked the folk singer part, no sunglasses and leather jackets like some other idiots I knew).  Jon and I became fast friends.  After all, there weren't many who knew the Carter Family songs necessary to hang with Mr. Bradley Wik.  We drank beers, played songs older than our grandparents and threw bricks at John Lithgow's head.  Then, completely randomly, we both moved to New York City.  We ended up living two blocks from each other in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, before it was nice/expensive there.  When we both relocated to the West Coast, our bands (To The Sea and Bradley Wik and the Charlatans) started playing shows together.  BWC always loved playing with those guys, it was always a fucking blast and it always ended with way too much drinking, smoking way too many cigarettes and the occasional trip to the strip club in celebration of our self-declared brilliance.  Good times...  To The Sea was great but it was always obvious that Jon was the star of that band.  So, when he finally struck out on his own and put out his first batch of Rock songs, I was expecting greatness, but I was still somehow shocked at how good he was.  You can read all about his first record with the Fraidies HERE.

I was lucky enough to play with the Fraidies at their first show, and I'm even more lucky to call Jon a good friend of mine.  Listen to these fucking songs and, again, if you like them, buy them.  Us musicians are broke as fuck.

3.  Brianne Kathleen - "Paper Bag Dreams"

I met Brianne at a show BWC played at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland.  I found out later that she was a fellow musician.  Her vocal prowess was highly regarded in our circle so I invited her to sing on the first Bradley Wik and the Charlatans record.  She sang on "This Old House" and "I am not Afraid."  Her vocals practically made the fucking record and definitely were one of the main reasons why "This Old House" became the most popular track on that album.  Shortly thereafter, I had the pleasure of singing on her first album as well, on "If I Told You."  I also had the pleasure of mixing that album for her.  When it came time for her second record, she asked if I would record and mix it with her.  I was honored.  Of course, I fucking would.  I was so excited to see what we could do with her brilliant songs.  She wanted to bring more of a Rock N' Roll edge to the recordings versus her first album which was more folk inspired.  We did, but the song that always stops me in my fucking tracks was this one, "Paper Bag Dreams."  Brianne is such a phenomenal storyteller and I'm a sucker for a great/sad story.  I could fucking listen to this and cry for days on end.  It's so honest and beautiful and naive and hopeful and crushing as you know where this tale of young love/lust is headed.  I've played a lot of shows with Brianne and this was the song that always made people shut the fuck up and pay attention.  That's a hard thing to do as a performer.  But I would watch people forget they were drinking a beer and just fall into this story and her voice, oh, her fucking voice is magnificent; and it didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes.  But still, this is one of those songs that we as songwriters strive for, to capture a moment the way Brianne has here and present it to the world in all its glory.  I'm proud to say I was a part of this record and I got to share in the beauty of songs like this.  Thank you Brianne...  Buy this shit, like now.  Seriously.  You won't regret it.

OK, so seriously, where the fuck has this Green Bay Packers team been?  The defense, my god.  Aaron Rodgers, you are a god.  I love it.  I, and all the Packers fans I know, thought the same thing:  Yes, we can beat Seattle but we need a good showing from our defense, a good pass rush/win the turnover battle, and also a good showing from Aaron.  Man, did we get both in spades.  I just hope to fucking God that Aaron's new injury isn't too bad (though he fucking rocked it and should've won the Super Bowl in 2014 with a bum calf) and neither is Damarious Randall's.  That guy.  Oh, I love that guy.  My favorite young Packer.  I knew our defense could be magnificent if only they could stop being fucking hurt all at the same time.  But we need Damarious and by the playoffs Clay should be feeling at least a little better, which'll help a fuckload.  This is the best defense we've had since 2010, just saying...

Anyways, I love you all and enjoy the music above.  It's all on iTunes or you can buy via the Bandcamp links above.  But please support good music and support the end of Grouplove, especially as they ruin the credits of every BoJack episode...  Fuck, Grouplove sucks.  Still the holders of the worst song/most racist music video belt.  Seriously, watch THIS and you'll want to fucking kill yourself.  And the video shows that the whole fucking world hates these fuckers.  FUCK.  Now, I'm mad.  Why did I make this joke and listen to this song again?  Now I'm gonna have to listen to Neil Young's "Weld" start to finish to wash this shit out of my brain.  Either that or just drink til I don't remember listening to this song...  Either way, we'll see how the night goes.  Goodnight y'all...

Extremely Biased Album Reviews with Bradley Wik - "Try Again" by the Fraidies

Extremely Biased Album Reviews with Bradley Wik

            Welcome to a brand new segment I’ve just invented, since I’ve the right to do so, seeing as, well, it’s my own fucking blog, called “Extremely Biased Album Reviews.”  The purpose of this is to both share some love and raise awareness for some of my favorite new listens.  It just so happens that two of my favorite records right now are albums released by friends of mine.  Does that affect my objectivity towards them?  Probably, but who gives a shit.  They are wonderful records that deserve as much praise heaped upon them as possible.  So, I’ll start the heaping…

            First up is The Fraidies debut album “Try Again.”  Now, for those of you who don’t already know, this is the band led by none other than Mr. Jon Fickes.  Yes, the one and only.  I don’t know how to put this, but he’s kind of a big deal...  Jon has been teasing us with self-released demos and home recordings put out at various places on the interwebs for a couple of years now.   The songs were infectious and sing-along ready; and we were getting pretty wet in the pants waiting for a finished product.  I remember vividly the first show I ever played with the Fraidies.  I was already so obsessed with the unreleased tunes that I sang along to every fucking song.  No joke.  I hadn’t been such a fanboy since the first, oh, I don’t know, six god-damned times I saw the Hold Steady.  So, needless to say, when I heard Jon had booked time in the studio and was FINALLY fucking doing this thing, I was so pumped.  I had unrealistic expectations for the record.  In my head, it was already multi-platinum-co-headlining-with-Katy-Perry-to-sold-out-arenas big.  I mean, Taylor Swift would suck Jon’s dick to do a twenty-minute opening slot on the “Try Again” album release tour.  Which, Jon would consider. And, the next time a hurricane hit mainland America and there was a huge, star-studded benefit for the victims, Jon would do an acoustic version of “Life Under Water” before Kanye West came out and brought the house down with a spirited live version of “Drunk and Hot Girls”(to take us all back to the better times of, uh, 2007) with Jon Fickes staying on-stage to fill in for Mos Def, I mean, Yasiin Bey, who wasn’t allowed back into the country for the benefit show.  Wait, wasn’t there just a reunion of Black Star for Dave Chappelle’s residency at Radio City Music Hall?  Is there anything Dave can’t do?  Fuck, I mean, how did he get Mos, I mean Yasiin, back into the country?  I thought he was blacklisted, no pun intended…  Whatever, I’m losing my train of thought…  Oh, yeah, that’s right.  So, I had very high expectations for “Try Again.”  Yet, somehow, Jon and the boys surpassed them all…

              To put it simply, and succinctly, The Fraidies have made the perfect sleeper album of the summer.  This is the “Oh, Inverted World” for 2014.  It’s the kind of album you remember and associate with a time and place; like “Gold” or “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” WAS the turn the of the century.  Or “Transatlanticism” or “Ghosts of the Great Highway” or “Funeral” WAS 2004.  Like “Boys and Girls in America” WAS 2006, “Try Again” is the milepost for your life in 2014.  It’s the places you lived and the people you knew.  It’s who you were, and always will be, when this record comes on.  It’s a remembrance of youth or an acknowledgement of age.  It’s beautiful and it’s sad and it’s fun, and it will become a part of your life’s story.  Entire chapters of people’s lives will be scored by this album.  I know mine already is.  But most of all, “Try Again” is a wonderful pop record that is destined to garner the praise, and fans, that it deserves.  There aren’t enough good, honest radio stations to give “Never Love Again (It’s Doubtful)” the spins it’s rightfully due as one of the best, most innovative pop songs of the past, fuck, who knows, ten years.  I haven’t been so helplessly taken by a pop song since the first time I heard “Sussudio.”  “Never Love Again (It’s Doubtful)” has elements of Rock N’ Roll, Whammy-ridden guitar fills, synthy, dance-inspired breakdowns and is summed up brilliantly by a pure pop chorus.  In short, it’s fucking awesome.  It’s definitely the highlight of the record, but is by no means the only one.  “The Clang of the City” is going to be a showstopper during live performances.  “You’ve Got Nothing but You’ve Got Love” is the album cut that is destined to be one of everybody’s favorite Fraidies tunes.  It’s such a sweet, sad, honest song about a failing relationship that it’ll melt your heart every time, even as you can’t help but sing along and hope for love to win out, knowing full well that it won’t.  Every musician/artist/dreamer can feel the full weight of every word when Jon sings “There’s nothing left inside of me.  I’ve got nothing to give you. Why do you insist on loving me?  I can only destroy you.”  It’s heart-wrenching to hear the sadness and resignation in those lines.  Over the course of the record, Jon frequently lays it all out very simply for us; neither trying to hide his sentiments nor be too grand with his lyrical brushstrokes.  This is never more poignantly exemplified than with the song “Gold Miner.”  There are many experiences in life that are too beautiful and too personal to ever try to put into words.  Things that our human language isn’t complex or complete enough to sum up for another’s comprehension.  Such is the case with “Gold Miner.”  I could waste ten thousand words trying to explain what it means to me.  Why each verse is perfect, nothing wasted, nothing wanted.  But I would fail.  There are some moments in life that can only be appreciated.  There is nothing I could say that would express the emotion I felt upon hearing this song for the first time, other than, most people do the best they can and hope there is some sort of validation at some point.  I got mine…

            For sure, none of this would land as hard if the band didn’t hold up it’s end musically.  Andrew Angell does his part on the drums, guiding the band through the many complex rhythms and changes throughout the tunes.  Jack Shriner(bass) is tasteful and driving while David Solomon(keys) helps build the sonic backdrops and flourishes when necessary.  Jon Fickes, the guitar wizard he is, handles both the rhythm and the lead guitars, which dance in and out of melodies and counter melodies with the vocals.  Jon constantly challenges the boys with his tunes and they handle them beautifully.  The recordings themselves leave room for the performances to breathe and they shine through.   Of course, Jon’s songs always stay at the forefront, and rightfully so.  He is a master of melody and his songwriting talent is prevalent on every tune on “Try Again.”  The Fraidies are already a staple of my summer party playlist, and hopefully, this isn’t the last we hear of Mr. Fickes and company.

Inside Llewyn Davis Part I: Headaches, Memories and Vomit, My Life as a Folksinger...

Llewyn Davis Part I:  Headaches?  We don’t need no stinking headaches…

            To prove both my dedication and insanity, I am writing to you today with a fairly intense migraine.  I say “fairly” because I am no longer throwing up but still can’t see straight, hold my head fully upright or move my eyes without a lot of pain.  I am doing this for a variety of reasons, including, but not limited to:  trying not to focus on the pain or my lingering nausea, the experience of trying to do something worthwhile whilst partially incapacitated but mostly it’s because I didn’t go into work today so I finally have some peace and quiet, and time, to write.  I did, however, make a valiant effort to make it in to work today, despite this crippling affliction, but had to pull my car over so I could open the door and puke, thus negating the rest of the trip and my workday.  I do apologize to the lady walking her dog across the street, as I would imagine it was probably not very pleasant to see or hear…

            Now, for those of you who have never had a migraine in your life, Fuck you and God Bless You.  Go forth and procreate together to hopefully create a entire race of beautiful, wonderful people who only read about migraines in history books, like the Spanish-American War, and view them merely as a past affliction of a not as intelligent race of people, or something of the like.  Unless, of course, you too suffer from an equally terrible plight which should be hidden from the future generations like the Ark of the Covenant, at which point please bag it up and be safe.  Luckily for me, my migraines are only a once in a while type thing and not habitual.  I have known many people who suffer from them constantly and I feel terrible for them and wish there was some type of cure for their intense and repeated suffering.  Personally, I have found pooping helps; though it may have just been a coincidence that I was pooping half an hour after I took some medicine and that was actually what made me be able to see straight finally.  Who knows…

            Anyways, enough of my whining and on with a topic.  I wanted to choose something light, given my current state, but unfortunately the thing that I cannot get out of my mind d54444444444444444qr2w(sorry my cat jumped on the keyboard) is the upcoming movie “Inside Llewyn Davis.”Now, I have only seen the trailer for this movie and already my interest is beyond piqued.  I, like my good friend Jon Fickes(of the Fraidies.  Be on the lookout for their debut album which is going to be amazing!), had a very emotional response when I first saw the trailer.  In case you didn’t know, both Jon and I, separately but coincidentally, moved to New York City, at the same time in 2007.  At the time, neither of us had a band and we were both folk singers; no doubt influenced by our love of Bob Dylan and On the Road and all that jazz, like many, many others.  The difference, however, was that we were really good at it, Jon being much better than I.  I’m not saying this in a pompous sort of way, just matter of factly.  I have travelled across this country and back multiple times, guitar and harmonicas in hand, and have never come across anyone better at folk singing than I, that is, until I met Jon Fickes.  I can say, unequivocally, that he is the best folk singer I have ever seen, bar none.  We were also kind of the only ones, in a true folk sense, that is.  None of that shitty faux-folk stuff thats so prevalent nowadays.  So anyhow, when we got to New York, we were ready.  And man, did we play all the folk singing joints out there.  We played those coffee houses in the Village and east Village and at bars all over the City and in Brooklyn.  We played at two in the morning at the Sidewalk to the “waitresses, walls and weirdos.”  We were, most likely, as I have no factual documentation to prove this, the first people to play original folk music at the Café Wha? in at least twenty years or so. We did it all.  We played anywhere they would let us…  And almost no one cared.  It was depressing.  It made me not want to be a folk singer anymore.  And, more importantly, it made me start a Rock N’ Roll band; which, in retrospect, was the silver lining, I suppose.  It was hard.  We had been folk singers for so long at that point.  We couldn’t imagine not doing it.  I had spent years traveling(or in folk terms:  rambling) so I could write good, honest songs about my experiences.  It was a long, hard transition(that’s what she said.  Sorry I just couldn’t resist).  But life doesn’t give a shit and drags you through it.  Time won’t allow you to wallow in the death of a dream.  So, we left.  We moved on and sort of forgot about all that.  We both started bands.  Jon is about to release his first record and I’m about to start work on my second.  My first record got a lot of good press and airplay and we got to play a ton of shows all over the Pacific Northwest as a result.  Things are going well.  I can’t much complain, though I still do constantly.  Everything was moving the right way.  Then, out of nowhere, we got sucker punched in the back of the head.  The “Inside Llewyn Davis” trailer.  Jon saw it first and told me to watch it.  I did and immediately knew, and felt, what Jon was talking about.  It was a flood of memories and emotion and the joy and sadness of a past life that we both had years ago.  I think about halfway through the trailer I sort of checked out.  I didn’t need to watch anymore to know there wasn’t going to be a good ending for this man.  I already knew it.  I already lived it.  My second thought was that they should have called me and Jon, and, just like Ringo, all we’d have to do is act naturally…

            Now, for sure, there is a large part of me that really doesn’t want to see this film.  I know that I will, at least a couple of times, but I wish I could stop myself from doing it.  Nothing good will come of it.  I know this.  I know that I will become unbearable to be around(advanced apologies to my girlfriend and band), caught up in my own nostalgia and floundering around in the countless memories I still carry, vividly, within my ever-swelling, at the present time anyways, brain.  I hope that I will be able to distance myself from the movie’s main character and watch with only visual entertainment  in mind.  I hope that I will not get caught up in my own neuroses and spiral back into the depression and sadness and hopelessness I once embodied which ruined my life and a relationship in the process.  I hope that this film will not inspire me, for some insane reason, to long for the days of my own folksinging and wish to continue, blindly and stupidly, that imprisoned passion of mine.  I hope that I can just watch as a fan of the Coen Brothers and brilliant movies.  I hope and wish for all of these things.  But I know that in this wish, I am doomed to fail.  I know, just as certain as I know my head and body are in a lot of pain right now, that I will fall prey to all of those aforementioned things.  And so will Jon.  And all of us, who idolized Guthrie and the Carter Family and Dylan and the lot, will feel Llewyn’s pain.  We will embody and embrace that hurt as it is also our own.  We will selfishly share in the sadness.  I may have modeled and lived my life according to the selfish and reckless ways of Dean Moriarty, but I always yearned to fall more on the Sal side of things.  He was right all along.  He dipped his toes into the craziness of Dean, but never fell fully and completely under the spell.  He always kept his head above water.  And when I, I mean Dean, hit bottom,  I, I mean he, looked up and saw that Sal had played it perfectly, right to the end.  He had seen and done enough to satisfy his curiosity, but he did not become addicted to the craziness like Dean and I had.  He had known all along, what we would come to learn, albeit perhaps too late… 

And all of this because of a fucking movie trailer…  God, I hope the Packers win on Sunday so I have something else to think about…  And that handful of Excedrin I took earlier still isn’t doing much, so I’ll be done for now and get to Part II after I finally watch this fucking movie.  Good Night, and Good Luck…