Some rambling shit about why I think my album is great... aka why listening to entire albums is still worth it

Rambling about my album...  It's not bragging if I explain why I'm right...  Right?

I realize that I am a dinosaur in this regard, and I definitely reside in the minority (both as an injun and for the following reason), but I still regularly sit down and listen to albums; fucking start to fucking finish.  Not necessarily just with my vinyl LP's or on special occasions, but a good chunk of my music listening occurs this way.  To be sure, my Asperger's undoubtedly plays a role in that (we're finishers!  That's what she said... sometimes) but it doesn't tell the whole story.  There's just something indescribably beautiful that happens when an artist creates a world that exists as a much larger realm than the sum of the 10, give or take, individual worlds he or she has created.  I love the feeling of being overwhelmed with the majesty of a start to finish album listen.  Some people say the end of an album should make you want to flip it over (or rewind it or press play again or double click it again or tell Siri or Google or whatever robot voice to "fire that fucking shit up again muthafucker!  Let's kick it!") and listen again.  Billy Joel certainly doesn't, as BILLY JOEL ALWAYS SAVES HIS WORST FOR LAST.  Or maybe that's a brilliant fucking move.  End on a low note to make people want to flip the album back over so they can listen to something great again before returning to the non-music-listening portion of their lives.  I too feel the opposite.  When I get to the end of an album I want to feel satisfied, exhausted and full of wonder (Hmm, sounds like the way you feel after... you know what I mean...)(sorry to inject again, but I'm talking about sex, coitus, knockin' boots, takin' the old log to the beaver, going for a ride on the old baloney pony... can't remember the rest)(sorry, me again, you guys got that, right?  Grumpy Old Men reference?)(wait, that's what hipsters love to do:  hit you over the head with the explanation of the joke)(hipsters suck...)(wait, I could edit mine out, but then that would ruin the verite style of writing I use.  This is a choice, man.  Deal with it.  Sometimes it works like poetry and sometimes you get...  What the fuck am I rambling about?)(wait, I don't think verite relates to writing.  I think that's more of a stream-of-consciousness-type thing)(shit, doing it again.  Sorry, on with the show...), the way I do after hearing "Jungleland" or "Motion Picture Soundtrack" or "Here Comes a Regular" or "Roisin Dubh (Black Rose):  A Rock Legend" or "Fillmore Jive" or "Styrofoam Boots/It's All Nice on Ice, Alright" or "Buckets of Rain" or "The Beat Goes On."  OK, so that last one was a joke, everyone knows Britney's masterpiece "...Baby One More Time" should have just fucking ended with "E-Mail My Heart," the best song on the album; and yes, that was back when there was still a fucking hyphen in that word...  Good times...  Remember ICQ?  And nervously typing non-sequiturs or obscure references, usually Metallica lyrics from "Ride the Lightning" or why Half-Life was the best computer game ever (still not sure why this form of communication never got me any...  Well, any kisses, I was goddamn 10 or 11 at the time you weirdos!), to some girl who lived three or four blocks over and was someone you could just go shoot hoops, rollerblade and flirt with in real life?  No?  Just me?  Good times...  I wonder what happened to Amy?  Good lookin' gal...  Sorry, off topic again.

Anyways, the reason I bring all that up, rambling as it may seem, is to say that is something I strive for when putting together an album.  You can hear it in my first record "Burn What You Can, Bury the Rest..." and I believe you can hear it in my upcoming album "In My Youth, I'm Getting Old..."  Putting an album together is so much more complex than picking your favorite 10 songs and slapping them together.  The overall sound, the instrumentation, the performances, the flow, the dynamics; and even if you get all that set, you still need to nail the tracklist.  I always think of the tracklist like a baseball lineup, only if your pitcher was one of your best hitters.  You need something to start off strong and get a "hit" as often as possible.  The second song has to keep the inning going and move the record forward.  The third is one of your highest average hitters.  This is where you want to score your first run of the record.  The fourth needs to bring the power, and the fifth is more like a 4 1/2, not as big a swing but still needs to close Side A strong.  I like my sixth to get things moving again with seven and eight bringing their own talents to the table.  Nine closes it out, hard.  (I'm also partial to Bruce Springsteen's "corner" theory.  The first and last song of side A and the first and last song of side B need to be your top songs, your cornerstones, if you will, and then you fill in the rest)

I missed a couple of those on the first album (especially the whole starting off with a "hit."  I opted for the slow burn into the album, which worked since the song was so amazingly well-written, thanks Jon!  But I'm not sure that's what I'd do if I was making that record again today) but nailed the rest of the feel, flow, rising and falling action, etc., etc.  With the new album "In My Youth, I'm Getting Old...," I really dialed the track order in.  I went over countless (well, like 10; sitting with each one for a week or so before moving on) variations until I found it.  And, since it eventually will be released on vinyl, you also have to take that into account.  You have to make sure the sides are fairly evenly separated and neither side runs too long.  All of which is to say that I'm extremely proud of this soon-to-be-released album.  Recorded live to tape, in one warehouse room, warts and all but with the energy of four guys who've played countless shows together, can feel where I'd like to take a song, even live in the moment and can even fucking breathe with the same musical nuance.  It's definitely one of those sum is greater than the parts type deals and that's why it was recorded that way.  It isn't the easiest way to make a record (tape warbles or malfunctions, one guy misses a note and you start over, etc.) but it was the right fucking way for these songs.

TAKE A LISTEN TO THIS SNEAK PREVIEW:  "SOME GIRLS (STILL LOVE ROCK N' ROLL)"

And hear for yourself if I'm just talking a bunch of shit, or I'm speaking the truth.  After a few bourbons, a bunch of shit or the truth start to sound the same...  At least to me.

What's the deal with new music? aka why it just can't mean as much...

Why newer music seems worse, but why the older stuff isn't necessarily better; unless it actually is...  That seems intentionally confusing to make you more interested...  Yep, that's the fucking point...

It's strange that it keeps coming up.  I feel like I've had some form of the same conversation at least a hundred times over the past five years.  Whether with longtime friends, fellow musicians, strangers at the record store, it doesn't matter, it seems to always find a way into the conversation.  At this point I'm wondering if somehow I'm putting off the vibe.  It's got to be me, right?  (The whole world revolves around me, right?  I am the Truman Show, aren't I?)  But no, the last few times in particular I know that I didn't bring it up.  Or did I?  Having Asperger's, I do tend to bring up the same things over and over.  My girlfriend thinks I never listen to her, and she's probably right, but hopefully it makes her feel at least a little better to know that I never listen to myself either.  It probably doesn't, but still.  Which is weird since I love learning things about other people and listening to them talk is the best way and blah, blah, blah, I'm already off-topic...

What starts this conversation I keep running into is some form of the question "Do you continue to listen to new music?" or "do you still actively seek out new music?"  It's usually followed by a statement on the current state of the music industry, how the labels don't breed artistry, how there's just too many bands and no simple way to sort through them, how there's not enough time to waste on trying to listen to countless bands in order to find one that you actually may like; you know, that sort of thing.  Now, I'm not saying I don't understand this sentiment or haven't spent hours thinking about this myself, trust me, I have.  For years, I felt the same.  New music was shit and I wanted no fucking part of it.  There were enough brilliant records out in the ether that I could spend my life just trying to catch up and never come close to succeeding.  In fact, you can read my thoughts on this, at length I might add, in a two-part blog I wrote in this very space.  See:  PART I and PART II.  So I get it, I really do.  But, with the help of some fancy new tools (Spotify mostly), I no longer subscribe (wholly) to this theory.

Now, for sure, there's a lot to be made about the fact that we are just not as impressionable in our older age, not that I'm "older," but I'm not 16 anymore (yes, ladies, I'm over 18.  So, you know... nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more, say no more...) either.  So, no, I don't anticipate that a record will hit me the same way "The Lonesome Crowded West" did and, of course, there's no way to hear "Bold as Love," "Born to Run" or "Blonde on Blonde" again for the first time (what's with all the B's?  The best bourbons all start with "B" as well.  List for another day perhaps...  All I'll say for now is that John Wick and Bradley Wik share similar tastes...).  But, then again, those are landmark albums the likes of which we'll never see again, so you have to remove them from this conversation.  You can't see the grandiose grandeur of a Monet for the first time "again" or watch "Pulp Fiction" for the first time "again" either.  And yes, I do think of Monet and Tarantino on the same scale of artistry.  It's the same way I'd put Ellsworth Kelly and Michael Bay in the same echelon as well; fucking talking about THIS and THIS, respectively...  Fucking pricks, the both of them...

But, following this train of thought does get us a lot closer to what I feel is the truth.  Here's the reason I believe we stop searching for and finding new artists that really make us feel something:  as we get older and more knowledgeable about music, there's more and more we can compare these new artists to.  It's not fair but it's true.  I'll give you a "for instance."  The first CD I ever bought (in 1996, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren't, but fuck it.  Also, to flesh out your Bradley Wik trivia, the first cassette tape I ever bought was Weird Al's "Greatest Hits Volume II") was The Wallflowers' "Bringing Down The Horse."  Now, when I first heard "One Headlight" or "The Difference" I thought those songs were unlike anything I'd ever heard prior.  For sure, they were doing something great, which they would never accomplish again, by the way, on that album but it wasn't the mind-boggling, genre-defining thing I thought I was hearing.  But I was 9, what did I know other than I really liked it?  The songs on that album are so well-written and the production is amazing, so who knows, it might still hit me the same way today, just for different reasons.  That album is still great and I still love it, but it doesn't sound as unique as it once did.

I'll give you another.  Currently, there are two albums I cannot stop playing on repeat:  PUP's "The Dream is Over" and The Jellyrox's (or The Jellyrox'?  How the fuck do you make that a possessive?) "Bang and Whimper."  I know what you're thinking if somehow you know both these bands, but, yes, punk rock and synth pop go so well together, seriously.  Like bleu cheese, roast beef and apples.  No fucking joke, try it on whole wheat bread.  It's delicious.  Unless you're gluten-intolerant or just have no patience for gluten and you won't tolerate it.  Then maybe try it over a bed of mixed greens, just not fucking kale; that shit tastes like fucking dirt.  Or, more simply, how about you just listen to these fucking masterpieces back to back:

PUP - "DVP"

The Jellyrox - "Hoop"

How much fun are those?  Almost too much.  Like a puppy and a kitten snuggling...  Sorry, picturing that now...  But, PUP's "The Dream is Over" is the kind of album that ten years ago would've changed my life as I played it non-stop for six fucking months, memorizing every single word and beat and note and nuance til it became a part of me.  But that particular hole they look to fill has already been filled by the Hold Steady (not saying it's the same music, outside of "The Coast" sounding like a Hold Steady B-side); a band that fucking changed my life as I played "Boys and Girls in America" non-stop for six fucking months and memorized every single word and beat and note and nuance til it became a part of me.  On the opposite end, we have The Jellyrox.  I don't know fuck-all about synths (although after months and months of fucking around with my Moog Sub 37, you'd think I'd picked some up.  Well, I have just not enough, clearly, after listening to this record) or synth pop music past Duran Duran and whatever Genesis or Phil Collins used on their albums, so this record hit me hard.  I already know most of the words, and by the time I take "Bang and Whimper" out of my car, I'll know every... well, you know the rest...  I just don't have a frame of reference for this album so it sounds like aliens learned english and how to craft amazing songs and sing and record and mix and master their music and release it on a piece of plastic that uses laser beams to extract the 0's and 1's and, in turn, return them into their musical form.  In fact, that sounds like every CD now that I think about it...  Except MINE.  But that's only because I know I'm not an alien; I have two eyes, two ears, a nose, an appendix, tonsils (yep, got 'em both.  Suck on that nerds...), a spleen, an average sized penis and knees that still don't like running (thanks Coach Murphy!).   Otherwise, the whole CD thing still doesn't make sense...  Probably why I still prefer vinyl.  Shameless plug:  Be on the lookout for the vinyl release of my new album "In My Youth, I'm Getting Old..." (yes, I'm obsessed with long names and ellipsises, ellipsisses, ellipsi?  Fuck!).  But that's not meant to take anything away from The Jellyrox, it's just to say that the record means more to me being my first foray into this world apart from some requisite CHVRCHES tracks.  And, no offense to CHVRCHES (that lead singer is so fucking hot and has such a sexy voice, goddamn it, that Scottish accent, that I'd like to, well, you know, nudge, nudge, wink, wink), but The Jellyrox is much more impressive.  Matt (lead singer, songwriter, producer, talented muthafucker) can sing and play his fucking ass off.  Although, I've had the pleasure of meeting him in person, and though I didn't inspect it too thoroughly, it seemed like he still has an ass.  Maybe he can regenerate it after singing and playing it off, who knows.  Fucking extremely talented people, they always seem to have magical powers and he is no different.  My magical powers are drinking, swearing and eating...  Not as impressive.  Fuck, I got shafted again!

It's also kinda funny how pervasive this idea is.  Everything seems better, by comparison, to when we were younger, even sports.  The last Super Bowl notwithstanding (Greatest Game Ever, since Super Bowl XXXI.  Yes, I'm a hopelessly homer Packer fan and watching Brett Favre win the Super Bowl and restore glory to Green Bay is still the most important game I'll ever see), football was better when I was a kid.  Same for basketball and baseball.  Though, of all of them, baseball is definitely the closest to its' former glory.  What a wave of young, talented shortstops in Lindor, Correa, Bogaerts, Seager, Arcia, and on and on.  And a great crop of catchers and infielders and center fielders and pitchers, shit, I guess baseball is just good again.  Took me until a couple years ago to forgive the steroids and that terrible era of Sosa and McGwire and Bonds and Clemons.  It was so fucking obvious!  Come on (does his best Job voice)!  Wait, Super Bowls, CD's, vinyl, baseball, what the fuck was I talking about?  Oh yeah, I don't remember.  Good night and good luck!

What do we need? MUSIC! When do we need it? NOW!

So fuck it, let's play some fucking music...

I know things are getting fucking strange out there but we always have our trusted friend Music.  Here's some songs that always put a smile on my face.

Bradley Wik and the Charlatans - "Some Girls (Still Love Rock N' Roll)"

I can't believe I haven't fucking announced that I've sneak-peak-released the first song from my upcoming album "In My Youth, I'm Getting Old..."  I'm so excited to put this album out.  I've been working on it, and fixing the multitude of problems, for A FUCKING LONG TIME.  But, it's finally fit for human consumption and I couldn't be prouder.  The stories, the Rock N' Roll and the band are all so much better after playing hundreds of shows together.  It's so fucking cliche but we truly are operating greater than the sum of our parts on this album.

With thousands upon thousands of albums about falling in and/or out of love (the fuckin' easy part), here's an album about the rest of us. These songs are about you. These songs are about your hometown. These songs are about your friends, those you love, your lost lost loves, your hopes and regrets, your memorable nights, your forgotten dreams, your faith, your fears, your faults, your triumphs, your defeats, your will to be the best you can be, those dark nights you thought would never end, but mostly, they're about life, your life. And my life. I know you because I know myself. Guided by love, hope, faith and fear. All beautiful in our own fucked up ways. We celebrate a life full of jaggedness because that's where all the good shit is...
The press blurb:

Your ears are ringing as you pour yourselves out of the bar and into the street, still laughing.  The moon is bright in the night sky and the way it mixes with the streetlights makes you see each other in a way you’ve missed for the last few years.  In that moment, all the hard times fade away.  When she smiles, it makes you smile.  She grabs your hand as you think to yourself, “Some Girls Still Love Rock N’ Roll…”

Darwin Deez - "Radar Detector"

In another life (my NYC version), I was friends with this brilliant man.  We both would share the Sidewalk Cafe stage at various times, sometimes on the same night.  I loved his quirky, but fucking unbelievably catchy tunes.  He walked onstage and just fucking had "It."  He was a man amongst boys when he took over that room.  He knew what he was doing and how he wanted to do it.  He had us all mesmerized, every single time.  I was surprised when, years later, after he had achieved some fame, he still remembered me and gave me a great big hug when he saw me at Portland's Holocene.  While I was busy trying to be the second coming of Bob Dylan, he was busy making amazing music that was uniquely his own.  New York was a strange but amazing time.  But, Bravo sir on all the success!  You deserve it!

The B-52's - "Private Idaho"

What would a list of "fun" songs (not Fun. songs, God those guys are the fucking worst, still) be without some B-52's.  With a long list of crowd pleasers, I picked the one I return the most to.  It's fun and silly and catchy as hell.  Just what I need to chase the demons away...

Billy Joel - "The Longest Time"

This is one of the songs that reminds me of how much I can't sing.  Sure, I can do a great Rock N' Roll vocal but this is another level.  William goes back in time to remind us of why he is a national treasure.  I've almost worn out my vinyl copy of this album, but am ready to replace it should it fail me.  I cannot live without "The Longest Time," "Uptown Girl" or "An Innocent Man," nor should anyone.  The video is a little weird but don't let it distract you from one of the best pop songs of all-time.

Martha Reeves and the Vandellas - "Jimmy Mack"

I've had a strange obsession with Martha for a long time.  When it comes to singers, there's something intangible that attracts me to certain voices.  I just fall in love with them and they just feel "right."  Obviously, Otis is the #1 example of that but Martha is high on that list.  I just love her voice, her energy, just her in general.  I was also lucky enough to see her live and in-person at Jimmy Mak's here in Portland.  She had previously played with drummer Mel Brown (Motown/R&B staple back in the day and current Portland Jazz staple) in the sixties and the amount of personality between them was boiling over and off the stage.  It was an incredible show which included my personal highlight of Martha acknowledging that my girlfriend had the funkiest of chickens.  A truly memorable night and why "Jimmy Mack" always brings a huge smile to my face.

Talking Heads - "Artists Only"

This is a song that I, once a week, sing over and over in my head.  Why once a week?  Well, that is how often I clean my apartment.  And yes, for the hour and a half it takes, the only thing I can think is:  "I'm cleaning.  I'm cleaning again."  That and how much I love the big suit from "Stop Making Sense."  Brianne Kathleen and I actually paid a little homage during our dance breaks whilst recording her album.  Check out THIS VIDEO at 3:35 through to see how we get down.

Michael Jackson - "The Way You Make Me Feel"

Just... Fucking c'mon.  I can't tell you how many times, as a child, I re-enacted this music video in my living room.  Well, my mom could probably tell you but, needless to say, it's a fucking lot.  I never got the girl at the end, but I'll be damned if I didn't try my hardest.  Probably just didn't dance well enough...

Paul Simon - "You Can Call Me Al"

If the greatest music video of all time can't cheer you up, than nothing can...

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...