Scenes from a bubble in a blue state...

Haircuts, Portland, Trump and Depression... Just another day in paradise...

One of the most annoying thing about having Asperger's is how traumatic it can be to do very simple, routine things.  Like I've mentioned before, grocery shopping, for instance, can be very difficult.  To combat this, I buy the same things, in the same order, while walking the same path throughout the store.  This makes it easier to deal with and I can essentially shut my brain off to avoid any potential panic and/or freakouts.  But, if there is someone, say, looking at eggs when I come to the buying eggs point in my route, I can feel my blood pressure rise and I become very agitated to the point where it might ruin my day or I might simply leave the store and all my groceries, and try again another day.  It's frustrating, to say the least; especially for my poor girlfriend.  None of this could (or should, as a practical matter) make sense to her, so she's left to try and deal with my insanity, which, God bless her, she mostly does.  Occasionally, and quite understandably, she'll get upset with me and my shitty attitude which only makes me even more ornery.  It's not a pretty cycle, but, try as I might, I cannot stop or change it in any way.  My brain is just not wired to work another way.  I wish it was; mostly for her sake.  But, we all have our shit to deal with.  Speaking of...

So, another very normal thing that has been traumatic for me for as long as I can remember is getting my hair cut.  I don't really remember why, or what the impetus for this was, but it's very emotionally, mentally and physically draining for me to get a haircut.  For years, it was so bad that I had to literally get blackout drunk before I could face it.  It's very strange to wake up with a new haircut, having no memory of how/why/where it happened, but so it goes.  I felt terrible for the poor gal in New York City who, thrice, had to cut the hair of a man teetering in and out of consciousness/sleep.  Needless to say, she received a very large tip each time, something like $30 or $40 (on a $25-30 haircut) if I remember correctly.  She definitely earned it...

It's getting better, but it still helps a great deal that Bishop's in Portland cracks you open a beer the minute after you write your name down on the waitlist.  Bishop's is one of those "alternative-type" hair salons where there are pictures of naked ladies on the bathroom walls and anything from Bon Iver to Megadeth can be heard on the speakers overhead.  The hair stylists are similarly diverse and there's something very comforting in that, for reasons I don't quite understand.  I suppose it's just because I feel more at home with the black makeup crowd than the typical hair-cutting crowd.  Actually, that's probably it.  I can feel at home with almost any anyone, race/religion/sexuality/etc., but I cannot deal with people who like to get their hair cut.  I just don't understand them and cannot connect with them in any way...  Anyhow, after a cool, crisp, refreshing Montucky tallboy, my name was called and it was my turn.  I started my usual cold sweat and did my best to pretend I wasn't terrified inside.  "Hey, my name is_______." she said very dryly.  I think it started with a "J."  I can never remember hair stylists' names.  It's probably because I'm so focused on not having a borderline panic attack that those details slip through the cracks and right out of my brain, like a hotel key card down an elevator shaft.  She definitely fit the bill for a Bishop's barber.  "Probably a big Deerhoof fan," I thought.  Then, "why the fuck would that be the band I think of?" Then, "but, then again, who isn't a Deerhoof fan?"  "Lots of people, you dumbass.  You're an idiot..."  These are the conversations I have with myself regularly.  I'm sure she said something else while I was having this inane conversation, with myself, in my brain, but I didn't hear her.  Just nod, I've learned over the years...

"What are you looking for today?" she asked.  I, as I always do, pulled up a picture on my phone of what I looked like with the hair I would like to once again have.  She said "OK" and then some other questions I don't remember, to which I replied "that sounds good" while, again, nodding.  She started cutting the constantly growing dead cells of the top of my head.  "Any plans for the weekend?" she asked.  Casually, and without thinking, which I am unable to do during a haircut anyways since the only thought I can muster is "I'm going to be OK..." over and over, I said that my girlfriend and I were thinking of going to the women's march against Trump.  She simply replied with "I have some friends going to that but I'm going to be working."

We chatted for a while about that before it struck me just how fucking weird this whole situation is.  HOW THE FUCK DID WE GET TO A POINT WHERE A MARCH AGAINST THE PRESIDENT OF THE FUCKING UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IS A FUCKING CASUAL AFFAIR?  How divided are we as a country that people protesting the President of the United States, normally one of the most influential and respected people in the ENTIRE WORLD, is a normal, expected, acceptable thing?  I understand that by living in Portland, Oregon I live in an extreme version of this scenario (although, racially it's still a very strange city.  I can't remember who made the joke first, but that the black population of Portland is dependent on whether the Blazers are playing a home game or not, which illustrates well the demographic of this city.  It is very welcoming to gays, homeless and other normally estranged groups, but at almost 90% white, it still has a weird not-quite-there-yet vibe).  Like many major cities, there is a bubble that exists here that only takes 5-10 miles in any direction to disappear.  I often compare Oregon to my home state of Wisconsin.  Outside of Portland, Madison or Milwaukee, you're in the "Red" lands.  And no, that isn't a Native American joke because we're all dead (being half Native American and half White is strange.  Couple that with growing up Catholic and it's amazing I don't hate myself more.  I hate myself a lot, don't get me wrong, but not half-white-half-injun-raised-Catholic-level hate myself).  I'll put it this way, if you live in Oregon and don't own a gun, you probably live in Portland.  But, the larger point, again, is that things are so fucked that disavowing our own "elected" (not going to get into my thoughts on that here, but all I'll say is that I'm not certain voting is on the up and up.  Don't worry, I just got refitted for my new tin foil hat...) President is a very nonchalant, normal thing these days.  I could see our country moving farther and farther towards their respective sides, but this is still shocking somehow.  Maybe it's liberals being sore losers (Hipsters especially hate the concept of "winning and losing") but this seems like something more.  And, unfortunately for all of us, we have exactly the wrong President to reunite the two extremes.  He will only make it worse; much, much worse.  It's sad and depressing that (some, well, a big chunk, but not all) humans in America have somehow lost what makes us "humans" and not just another animal:  empathy, understanding and logic...

I remember when I was young and in school, we had to write papers on a given topic.  I don't remember what my topic was, but the instructions were clear:  write your thesis, research it thoroughly, THEN research the opposite so you can understand why people would think that and see how your opinion fits into those two opposing thoughts.  That was also the basis of high school debates as well.  If you can understand the opposition then you can start to actually win over/convince those on the other side, as well as reinforce your opinion.  If you only knew and argued strictly from your point-of-view, you would only strengthen those already there and never win over anyone else.  Well, if this election proved one thing, it was that Horicon, WI had a decent school system, apparently.  The other part of my desire to understand things is very Aspergian.  Being unable to understand the emotional aspect of things, I love to deep-dive into why people think, act, behave, decide, etc. a certain way.  I have a very different understanding of people than most because of my "limitations."  But, that has served me well over the years in understanding that each conflict has two sides, and both are probably flawed in some way and the answer is rarely one or the other.  It's usually neither, in fact.  But, here we are.  I try to avoid thinking of these things daily but sometimes I can't.  And, yesterday, while getting my hair cut/trying not to have a panic attack the reality/gravity of this situation struck me, rough.  I'll go on and do what I have to to get through (thinking bourbon will help).  Remember, nothing lasts forever and there are plenty of noble pursuits to keep yourself busy with for the foreseeable future.  To that point, I have two albums coming out!  Shit, why am I ranting about this?  I have work to do.  Rock N' Roll isn't going to Make itself Great Again on its' own...

Some insanity talk; and my favorite Beers, Cheeses and Christmas movies...

You know what helps with depression?  Beer, Cheese and Christmas movies...

After years of having to deal with my own bullshit, and the intensity of the loneliness which I carry with me always, I've discovered there is a world in which I feel completely at home.  I know no greater comfort than when I inhabit this place, wholly, in both mind and spirit.  But, it is not an inviting place.  It is dark, uncaring and full of horrors, both real and imagined.  It is not a place for the timid, or really anyone besides me.  It exists only in my mind and I'm a frequent visitor.  It is place to escape to, regardless of my physical presence.  I know, you're thinking maybe I'm a nutter.  To live in a world created in one's own head is unhealthy and/or a little hippie-dippie-ish.  You're probably right.  They say that extroverts gain energy from the company of others and introverts seek solitude to regain their powers.  I recharge the old batteries by escaping into my own world within the old brain box.  It happens when I'm driving long distances by myself, when I'm cleaning the house with the headphones on, when I'm watching BoJack Horseman reruns at two in the morning, when I'm playing music in my room with the lights low; I can get there in a variety of ways.  And I need to get there, frequently.  But, here's the catch:  if I stay too long, I will self-destruct but if I don't get there enough it grinds me down into a deep depression.  A balance must be struck or I will suffer the consequences.  The other downside is that there isn't a reward for maintaining a healthy balance, only a lack of negative side-effects.  I don't get to assuage these feelings of darkness, only keep them at bay.  The mindlessness of television is one of the many ways to distract myself and get through to the next day.  Sometimes, that's all it feels like I am doing, just getting through.  I am pained by the guilt that I am not spending every waking minute creating my art (music), but I haven't the energy many days because I've spent it just getting through the day to begin with.  I realize that may sound hokie and very woe-is-me but it's true.  I wish to God it wasn't but it is.  Maybe someday I'll get caught up, and God-forbid, get ahead for once, but for now I'm quite happy to make it by, however slim the margin, day after day.

Now, for some random facts about the one and only Mr. Bradley Wik.

Favorite 3 Beers:  (Rock Stars know a thing or two about drinking...)

3.  Rogue Dead Guy Ale - This may be the only Northwest brew I actually enjoy.  I fucking hate hops and all that IPA, IPR, IPX bullshit.  When I drink one of those IPA style beers, I'm immediately transported back to my younger days when we had to smuggle booze without anyone finding out and used soda bottles to help with said smuggling.  Then again, most of what we used to drink back then was a mixture of Southern Comfort and orange soda.  Yep, that's what Northwest beers remind me of.  Just gross shit you drink to get fucked up...

2.  Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat - The fucking fruity-loops beer.  Need I say more?

1.  Miller Lite - The single greatest brew ever invented by human beings (not ruling out alien brewing technologies just yet).  It tastes the best and is the best for you.  It's practically part of a healthy diet.  I believe it also cures AIDS or something like that...  I've been drinking this for years and never had no problems with AIDS, just saying...

Favorite 3 Christmas Movies:  (Tis the season)

3.  It's a Wonderful Life - I love how depressing and real this movie is, until they fuck it up/Hollywood the ending.  Turn it off with 3 minutes to go and it's brilliant.

2.  A Christmas Story - Umm, not sure what to say.  Turns out it's not as big on the West Coast as it is in the Midwest but still.  It's not on for 24 hours straight for no fucking reason.  I had Chinese-style duck on Christmas one year when I live in New York.  I didn't get it with the head still on, but it was still a magical moment for me.

1.  Die Hard - The single greatest Christmas story ever told.  Hands down.  I'm not going to justify it anymore because if you don't know this already, then...  I don't know...  Fuck, it just is.

Favorite 3 Cheeses:  (I am from Wisconsin, after all...)

3.  Any Fresh Cheese Curds from Wisconsin - You know the squeak when you hear it.  Mmm, I can hear it now...  If you don't know of which I speak, go here:  https://www.wisconsincheesemart.com/cheese/cheese-curds/ buy some and find out...

2.  Rogue River Blue Cheese - This is the cheese that reversed 27 years of hating bleu/blue cheese.  My favorite restaurant in Portland, Gino's, always has new/seasonal cheeses on their cheese plate and they were the first one to serve me this delicious non-Wisconsin cheese.  Ever since, I've been obsessed with this, and all, bleu/blue cheeses.  Thanks Gino's!!

1.  Sartori Black Pepper Bellavitano - Perhaps after the aliens come down and inhabit the earth, enslave all humans and force us to speak their language will we have the vocabulary necessary to describe such a delectable treat.  Sartori has a whole line of Bellavitano cheeses; which, I know you've probably never heard of such a cheese but a Bellavitano tastes like a combination of parmesan, cheddar and butter.  Again, mere words won't do it justice but I've never been the same since tasting this cheese.  And, luckily for Northwesterners, there are now Murray's Cheese shops inside our Fred Meyers (regional grocery store) which have, and will gladly sample to you, these intoxicating Bellavitano cheeses.  Try the black pepper, merlot and, if you're lucky enough, the cognac.  Mmm, just fucking mmm...

We'll do favorite bourbons another day.  Here's a hint:  I like the booze flavored ones from Kentucky.  For now, I have to listen to Neil Young's "Tonight's the Night" for the thousandth time.  That and Mr. Bruce Hornsby's "Scenes from the Southside."  Well, I don't have to, but I want to.  That and drink some of my favorite bourbon, *%$*^$#^%#^%&).  Stay tuned to find out which one that may be...  Goodnight and Good Luck...

To my fellow Wisconsinite Mr. Justin Vernon... I neglected "22, A Million" based on your previous shit, but man, does this shit kick ass...

The first record I've sat down and listened to start to finish since Beach Slang's "The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us"

My God, did I write this fucker off too soon.  Sure, like everyone else in the world, I bought "For Emma, Forever Ago."  It was good but I wasn't punched in the tit in love with Bon Iver.  I wanted to be.  Seriously, I desperately wanted to love his shit but I just didn't.  It was pretty and I'm sure he was actually singing real, human words though I couldn't decipher shit.  I've been told that "Skinny Love" was a very touching, sad, real-as-fuck song.  I couldn't name three words that fucker sang, plus I've heard enough fucking resonators played to last me a fucking lifetime, trust me.  It was a good record but didn't tickle my taint enough for me to give up my first born child like it did for so many.  I felt guilty about it.  Here's an honest Wisconsinite making decent music for the first time since, fuck, I don't know.  The story of his breakup and band breakup and return to Wisconsin and shit was compelling but the music didn't quite live up to the genius-level praise he received.  Maybe I just didn't get it.  Maybe my Asperger's prevented me from caring about music that I couldn't understand the fucking words to.  Who knows.  But "22, A Million..."  Jesus Fucking Christ.  I wish I could imagine a record this good, let alone actually fucking make it.  Fuck.  Well done, Mr. Vernon.  Seriously.  When a motherfucker is wrong, a motherfucker is wrong.  And I'm man enough to admit that maybe I didn't care about "For Emma, Forever Ago" or "Bon Iver" but this "22, A Million" is my new shit.  I might be late to the party, but forgive me, I wasn't exactly waiting on its release given his last two records.  But this is unbelievably fucking awe-inspiring.  Wow, is all I got.  Seriously.  I just don't know what else to say.  I haven't heard a record that fucked my head up this much since "Blueberry Boat."  Congrats and GO PACK GO!  Assuming Justin is a sports/football/Packers fan.  And it's fair to assume he loves the Packers and cheese and beer, being from Wisconsin after all.  Anyway, I'm rambling now, but if you haven't listened to "22, A Million," do it now.  And, I guess, if you haven't dabbled in "Blueberry Boat" by the Fiery Furnaces, go ahead and dip a toe, or more, in.  You won't regret it, but you need to be ready to invest more than a few minutes.  This isn't the Taylor Swift or whatever the kids are listening to these days.  This shit will challenge you and force you to either shit or get off the pot.  It's worth it, trust me.  Shit away.  Or listen to the records.  What the fuck am I talking about?  I love y'all.  Vodka is tasty...  Goodnight...

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...

Some random ass thoughts on Billy Joel and the Green Bay Packers. Also, Bradley Fuckin' Wik does an interview (not here, but it is on the internet)...

Better things, inane musings and what the fuck is the deal with the Green Bay Packers?

Like many of you out there, I've had a rough couple of weeks since the election.  But, I don't really want to talk about that right now as it's been talked to death and we have four more years to complain about it; so I'll save my commentary until after the fucker has been sworn in to office...  So, on to some better things, some inane things and some downright puzzling things.

Let's start with some better things.

First, I've had the pleasure of doing an interview for Trainwreck'd Society.  Over at Trainwreck'd, they have interviews, reviews and other features and musings on pop culture, from music to movies to comedy.  I love the environment Ron has created with his writing and look forward to his forthcoming podcast. You can read the interview in its entirety HERE:

https://trainwreckdsociety.com/2016/11/14/bradley-wik-interview/

I talk about my last album "Burn What You Can, Bury the Rest..." and where "This Old House" comes from amongst other things.  I always enjoy talking about music, especially my own, so this was a lot of fun for me.  I cannot wait to kick off press for the new album so I get to talk about myself even more.  But this is a great way to introduce yourself to my musical side a bit, if somehow, you don't already stalk me on the internet and revel in my every word.  

Second, also in better news, it's ThanksFuckingGiving time!  Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday and it's not particularly close.  My favorite non-turkey Thanksgiving food:  green bean casserole.  It's the perfect dish for celebrating the beginning of the systematic removal of my people (I'm Native American, in case you didn't already know) from the earth in the name of white people feeling superior to people with skin pigment.  Ahh, good times...  At least I look white person-ish enough to partake in eating until I feel sick, watching football, then eating again, watching more football, then eating some desert, not because I'm hungry (I'm still sick from dinner #2) but because cake and pie is delicious and someone has to eat it.  All joking aside, I do love Thanksgiving and all its leftovers.  This year I am most thankful to live in a country, though it has its faults, that allows me to create and pursue my art with no repercussions.  I would not live where I live, love the woman I love, know the people I know without music.  It's been quite a journey from little 'ol Horicon, WI (Go Marshmen!), population 3000.  Quite a fucking journey, indeed...

OK, how about some inane musings?

Ever wonder why Billy Joel's four best albums (The Stranger, Glass Houses, 52nd Street and An Innocent Man) save their worst song for last?  I do.  I think about that a lot.  Now, to be fair, "Through the Long Night" off "Glass Houses" isn't actually a terrible song, like "Keeping the Faith," "52nd Street" and "Everybody Has a Dream" are, it's just the worst song on that album.  And even those others aren't terrible songs, just not very good, especially compared to the rest of those particular albums.  Those songs would be the second or third best songs on later Joel albums or the best songs Mumford and Sons ever wrote, but that's a whole other ball of wax.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately with the countdown officially on (I received test pressings for my album yesterday!) for the release of my long-awaited second album, "In My Youth, I'm Getting Old..." (apparently I like long, comma-separated titles with ellipsis' at the end...  Damn, did it there again...).  I've worked diligently on the tracklists of my albums as the order of the songs can greatly influence the feel, the flow and the ability of a group of songs to turn into an album, something greater than the sum of its parts; which is something that is severely lacking in modern musical releases.  As an example of how to close a record the right way, my first album ended with this fucking behemoth:

https://bradleywikandthecharlatans.bandcamp.com/track/just-like-jon-fickes

I know, it's long but trust me, it's worth it (that's what she said).  That song is journey and a story unto itself.  It is, without a doubt, one of my favorite songs that I have ever written.  It's hard to make eight minutes and fourteen seconds interesting and listen-worthy, but we actually had to work hard to cut it down to that final version.  "Just Like Jon Fickes" tells the story of a girl who moves to New York City in the hopes of becoming a successful musician.  Eventually it wears her down and she is killed by the weight of her struggles and her failures.  I didn't say it was uplifting, I just said it was a hell of a way to wrap an album as opposed to, say:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ph7oZnBH05s

(hopefully, they didn't make you watch the stupid Onerepublic ad I had to.  God, they fucking suck and it's criminal to call that music...)  At least Mr. Joel's video is stupidly entertaining.

Alright, now for the downright puzzling...

What is the deal with the Green Bay Packers?  It's been a tough season to stay positive as a Packers fan, to say the least.  At the outset, our offense was still shit but our defense was amazing.  We won three of our first four before you needed to buy an abacus (can you rent an abacus?  Something to think about) to count the number of injuries we had to our starters.  Down our top three corners, our only three running backs, some lineman, our middle linebackers and, of course, Clay Matthews, who finally got to move back outside and was wreaking some good havoc the first few weeks.  Then, our offense started to look like it might get back on track but has been so bipolar I've needed to take drugs just to watch it.  Trust me, that's the best way to watch this Packers team:  on drugs.

We've been so spoiled as Packers fans that it's hard to accept a non-playoff year but that's what we might be looking at.  At the outset, I thought this team had the look of that 2014 team that should've went to and won the Super Bowl.  Maybe this is the football gods punishing us for botching every single one of a dozen or so plays that, had we made even one, would've closed out the Seahawks in that Championship game.  That was easily the toughest and most inexplicable loss I've witnessed in my life.  But at least we had the playoffs that year.  The Lions, of all fucking teams, are currently leading the NFC North and I can't understand how this happened.  It just seems the injuries were just too much to overcome this year and Aaron wasn't able to drag us to ten wins and a playoff berth despite fielding a defense made up of special teamers and rookies.  And, for anyone who thinks that Aaron Rodgers has lost it, uhh, just remember this play:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttDn8K7QzaU

Or go back and watch this throw you probably missed or forgot:

http://ftw.usatoday.com/2016/09/aaron-rodgers-best-throw-nfl-history-michael-vick-randall-cunningham-jay-cutler

He's still the most talented quarterback in the NFL, which is why it's so maddening to see him do those things then promptly miss a wide open Jordy Nelson or Randall Cobb or Davante Adams, who deserves a ton of praise while having this amazing bounceback year after all the shit he took while being injured and losing his confidence last season.  I'm happy for Davante.  I tried to tell everyone last year to cut him a break, now you see why.

Anyway, all we can do is watch and support our Green Bay Packers.  They'll figure it out eventually.  If not this season, then next.  Of course, there might not be a next season (or a country where America used to be) depending on what future President Trump does in his first eight months...  

Stay positive and always remember they can fire you, but they can't eat you...

Monday Night is for the playlists... a.k.a. time to get your drink on since there literally might not be a tomorrow...

God Save Us All, except Trump.  Seriously, Fuck Trump...  

On the eve of the Election 2016, or as it's better known (insert your favorite John Oliver alternate election name joke here, my favorite being "America's Shit Salad Fuckstravaganza 2016"), I wanted to live it up a little and let loose.  After all, it may literally be my last chance to listen to music and drink as an American.  Let's allow music to take our minds off of the Green Bay Packers' second consecutive loss and our possible pending doom come the morrow.  Enjoy!

The Cardigans - "My Favourite Game"

Jennifer Lopez - "Waiting for Tonight"

Starting this shit off with a two-fer.  Speaking of two-fers, any Gran Turismo 2 fans out there?  One of the most ridiculous things my buddy and I used to do, for hours and hours on end, was firing up the old Playstation, putting GT2 on in head to head mode and playing "tag" with the cars we would choose.  We would stay up all night, racing around the track trying to elude whichever one of us was "it."  We had some epic battles.  Seriously epic fucking battles to the death.  Sort of, but more like stay up all night rocking Jennifer Lopez's "On the 6" on repeat until one of us literally passed out from exhaustion.  "Waiting for Tonight" is the perfect song for three in morning driving, video-game style.  It really gets you in the zone.  One of my favorite things about my then best friend, was the fact that we could, unabashedly, enjoy silly pop music like Jennifer Lopez or Britney Spears or Mandy Moore with no judgement.  Definitely not something I shared with anyone else, being a twelve year old in rural Wisconsin.  For men, listening to Jennifer Lopez was generally frowned upon, to put it nicely.  We enjoyed just being fucking goofy and listening to goofy things.  Lots of great times...

Beach Slang - "Bad Art and Weirdo Ideas"

I know, right?  Fucking left turn immediately but this song kills me.  There just aren't many songwriters who can actually fucking write lyrics worth a damn anymore.  This muthafucker can.  I don't know his name because I hate googling things like that.  Fucking great and smart Rock N' Roll, Punk, or whatever you want to call it.  But whatever you call it, just be sure to also call it awesome.  He focuses a lot on the sense of being "alive," which hits me right where I need to be hit sometimes.  This album, masterfully entitled "The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us," warms the deepest parts of the cockles of my heart and makes me want to find a couple dudes or chicks to start a more hard-rocking version of Bradley Wik and the Charlatans.  I fall in love, rough, with records that inspire me, and this one definitely does.

The War on Drugs - "Red Eyes"

Well... This song has everything I hate about hipster music, but, for some reason, I can't help but listen to it.  They do the stupid "douse everything in reverb" nonsense, I can't understand a goddamn word this fucker is singing, the bridge sucks, the song feels loosely structured and not crafted into its' best possible version, but, despite all of that, I still rock out to it.  Go figure.  Fuck...

Paul Simon - "Kodachrome"

Let's cleanse the palette with this one.  Paul Simon might've been a huge asshole by all accounts, but, fuck, could he write a tune.  I love it when he says "my lack of education hasn't hurt me none."  That's my life.  In this day and age, people look at a (relatively) young man who says he intentionally skipped college quite strangely.  Most people don't understand what I got was so much more valuable.  I spent my college years, the amazing/terrible/hopeful/hope-killing years, traveling this great country across and back playing music.  Believe you me, I've seen more shit than I would've wasting my time learning shit I learned on my own for free anyways.  Maybe I would've banged a few more chicks, but, then again, maybe not.  I'm a relationship type of guy.  Asperger's and depression make it hard for me to be alone for any significant amount of time.  I almost found out the limit of that once, and I don't want to do it again...

Mos Def - "Hip Hop"

Early on in my getting-to-know-hip-hop-music days, my good buddy gave me this record, "Black on Both Sides," along with Talib/Reflection Eternal's "Train of Thought" and Aesop Rock's "Labor Days."  Holy muthafucking shit is that an education on some great hip hop.  I can't thank him enough for introducing me to so many great artists.  Listening back to "Black on Both Sides" makes me sad, though, as all of the issues he poses are still quite prevalent, and getting worse (thanks Trump, you cunt).  You can go back into hip hop further and hear the same things.  After all these years, it's depressing to see we haven't moved forward hardly at all.  It's fucked up.  There's a world full of people who don't look exactly like white Americans and somehow that's hard to accept for some people, and Trump is playing on that ignorance/fear.  Goddamnit.  Please people, don't let him become president...

Stevie Nicks (feat. Don Henley) - "Leather and Lace"

Stevie and Don Henley?  Uh, yes please.  Do I really have to say more?  If I had to pick one song to describe my relationship with my girlfriend, this would definitely be it.  Not sure if that's a good thing or not, but, well, it's true...

Pearl Jam - "Given to Fly"

For all of those who watch "Touring Band 2000" religiously, as I do, you'll get this one.  This is easily one of the highlights.  Fuck, it's just beauty incarnate.  Truly.  That's all I have to say about this one.

Neil Young - "Albuquerque"

This album, "Tonight's the Night," is one of the main influences on my new album.  I love the rawness of the songs and the recordings, which fits the songs fucking perfectly.  Sometimes, the best way to display the stories is to scale back the production.  This song sounds like I want all my songs to sound like.  I know this record was initially rejected by Reprise Records, but goddamn, did they fuck up.  Labels rarely understand.  Wilco made a movie about it...

Roy Orbison - "It's Over"

Someday, I might be able to listen to this song without tearing up, but not tonight.  I wish that when I grow up I can write songs like this.  Obviously, I'll never be able to sing one note in my life as beautiful as Roy, but I wish to God I could.  I really do.  This song is so beautiful and magnificent.  That fucking vibrato, those sad notes.  Roy was truly a once in a lifetime talent.  Johnny Cash spoke very highly of him, and given his "Black and Night" concert, Roy was clearly respected by his peers.  Well, I use "peers" loosely as not many could touch his level of talent and songwriting.  As far as male singers go, Roy's in a rare class with Otis Redding and Jeff Buckley.  Nobody tops Otis, ever, and I mean FUCKING EVER, but Roy comes close.  These are the kind of artists that make me feel so vastly unable to convey the same level of emotion, pain, hope, love, despair, happiness and longing.  At least I know where the bar is set...

Wu-Tang Clan - "Da Mystery of Chessboxin'"

Nine year old Bradley couldn't fucking comprehend this shit.  All I knew was that I loved it.  I heard "Protect Ya Neck" first on MTV and fell in love.  I ran to the library (yes, the library) to check out this CD and revel in it for a couple weeks.  I had friends who liked Biggie and Tupac, but even so, it was hard to convince rural, white Wisconsinites that "Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)" was brilliant music.  Needless to say, I listened to this a lot by myself.  The music I couldn't listen to around others was usually relegated to the Walkman while cutting grass.  No one could hear what I was playing and it was probably better that way.  I could listen to anything I wanted away from my judgmental friends.  Or, I guess, "friends," as I would find out later.  Maybe I'll tell you the full story sometime, but for now let's just say I ended up punching one of my best friends in the face because he stood behind my (former) friends when they were verbally abusing the only black kid in our high school.  Shit kicked off and punches were thrown and he came to the defense of his lifelong buddy (which is hard to blame him for on that front, but it's obviously not acceptable given the circumstances) and I had to defend myself, and basic human decency, and hit him before he hit anyone else.  It was a strange, confusing time for me and I ended up without friends for a while.  But high school kids don't make great friends anyways and I found out the older kids had better weed.  So, I guess it was a win-win for me.  I won morally and in smokin' that shit while watching WWF on Mondays.  Life is weird but Karma is for real.  For real...

Speaking of Karma, I can't imagine what will happen to all of you who vote Trump tomorrow...  How about we don't find out...  May God have mercy on us all...

More concussion, Asperger's and power outage blues...

Blah, blah, blah something about concussions and Asperger's.  Also, some song recommendations...

One of the most difficult things about having Asperger's is that for a large part of my life I have to pretend to be someone different.  It's not an easy task and it feels very dirty.  It feels as though I am cheating or betraying myself and my life; that I am not being true to my life's purpose.  It's a very strange, imposter-type feeling that I carry most days.  The only thing that I could compare it to is how introverted people feel and are affected by meetings with strangers.  It's exhausting.  It physically wears me down to behave like a "normal" person for 9-10 hours a day.  I can't do it.  Well, I can and do, but only because I have to.  I don't have a choice.  The only jobs for mentally unstable, socially indifferent, self-absorbed people are:  Musician, Actor, Athlete or just plain old crazy rich person.  Seeing as I'm not rich, athletically gifted (though I was a pretty damn good shortstop) or absurdly handsome, musician seems to be the only way.  And I'm trying.  Believe me, I'm trying.  For English-speaking songwriters, there's maybe 15 people alive who are better than me.  But, as we all know, talent and skill and brilliance don't amount to diddly-squat so all I can do is keep on keepin' on, Joe Dirt style.  At some point, I'll tell the tale of the latest Bradley Wik and the Charlatans album, which is still on its way out, by the way.  I feel like James Franco in "11.22.63" when he was trying to stop Lee Harvey Oswald, the universe was throwing everything it could at him to prevent this from happening.  I'm not sure why God and the universe hate this record so much but fuck it, I'm gonna get it out there if it kills me.  The world deserves it.  Do I think this record will catapult me into the upper echelon of American songwriters?  Maybe.  But I definitely think this record will be a grower.  It may not light the world on fire immediately but the songwriting will sustain it until it gets its righteous recognition.  It will, goddamnit, if it's the last thing I do...

Speaking of last things, man, do these concussions last forever?  The ibuprofen I'm taking for the headaches will kill me before anything else.  It's been three weeks and I still can't see straight.  It's like being three drinks in all the fucking time.  You can see, but it's not perfect.  You can drive, but it's not your favorite thing in the world.  Even watching TV is not easy, and that's the fucking easiest thing you can do in the whole world.  Fucking seriously, three weeks in and the only thing that works is my ears and my ability to listen to music.  But, even then, my mind wanders.  I'm unable to focus completely.  It drives me fucking bonkers.  I almost stopped listening to a vinyl record part of the way through.  And I firmly believe that once you start a record, you play it all the fucking way through.  It was a sobering moment where I couldn't help but realize my predicament.  I hate it.  I can't wait to be "normal" (or, at least, my version of "normal") again.  Fuck concussions.  Fucussions.  Is that a thing?  ("The Grinder" joke for those who watched that immensely hilarious but ill-fated show.  Man, it was so good to have Fred Savage back in front of the camera).

Also, we're currently experiencing a severe storm warning.  I've watched a tree fall on a car in front of my apartment and prayed that the trees in front of my living room window don't pop in for a visit.  It was funny, the power went out this afternoon for a while, and I remember thinking "Shit, now what am I gonna do?"  Which, is silly for a number of reasons.  First, I always complain I never have enough time to play guitar/music.  A perfect, non-power activity.  Second, I lived for years without a computer, internet, etc. and those years were amongst my most productive and fulfilling.  One of the things I hate about our society is that the more convenient and easy things become, the lazier we become.  It's so much easier to sit at home and watch Netflix or Hulu than it is to actually do something that contributes back to humanity; whether that means conversing at a bar or playing music in front of people or whatever people do apart from those two things (my only outside of the house activities).

I never thought I'd love a cat, but goddamnit, I love my little kitty.  She can tell I don't feel well and has made it her (current) life's goal to make me feel as comfortable as possible.  Normally, all she gives a shit about is food.  She's like a little fucking dog.  She runs up to greet us when we come home, begs for food whenever we walk near the kitchen and love to curl up on our laps late at night while we watch SportsCenter.  Living in this kind of crappy, small apartment means no puppy dog for me, but she is somehow even better.

How about some music?

SONG I CAN'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD RIGHT NOW:

Not sure if I've mentioned this one before, but, fuck, this is a song and a half:

"Cost of the Cold" - Joan Shelley

It's got 800,000 some odd plays on Spotify, and I reckon at least 500,000 of those are mine.  You'd be surprised how many times you can play it in a row on the 5 1/2 hour drive to Spokane, WA...

SONG I CAN'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD EVER:

Again, I don't keep track of music mentions, so this might be a retread but this is, without a doubt, one of my favorite songs ever:

"I'll Believe in Anything" - Wolf Parade

This is one of those songs that just fucking hit me at just the right fucking time in my life.  I've said it before but I'll say it again (you wouldn't be reading this if you didn't give at least some shit about what I say) that one of the most amazing things about music is that a song can mean so many different things to so many different people depending on when it wandered into their life and what they needed from it.  I needed it to be my everything for almost six months, and it delivered without asking for anything in return.  It perfectly summed up all the pain and sadness and hope for me and the girl I was dating at the time.  I was young and molting my exoskeleton, caught vulnerable by the world before I could protect myself once again.  She was on her third exoskeleton but previously had been damaged so deeply that each new exoskeleton that grew out was already in a weakened state.  I hope she was able to adapt and grow a proper shell.  She deserved some protection from the wild.  I wasn't strong enough to give it to her at that time...

Well, that's about it.  Hopefully, I'll soon be able to report without said concussion and be back to my full powers.  But, until then, these may continue to be sparsely broadcast.  As always, go forth and, uh...  Shit, I can't remember.  Well, then just go forth for now, I suppose...