Here is a clip from our recent trip to London. My talented wife’s choir sang in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Christopher Wren would be proud.

Wren and St Paul’s

St Paul’s has always been the touchstone of Wren’s reputation. His association with it spans his whole architectural career, including the thirty-six years between the start of the new building and the declaration by parliament of its completion in 1711.

Wren had been involved in repairs of the old cathedral since 1661. In the spring of 1666, he made his first design for a dome for St Paul’s. It was accepted in principle on August 27, 1666. One week later, however, the Great Fire of London reduced two-thirds of the City to a smoking desert and old St Paul’s to a ruin. Wren was most likely at Oxford at the time, but the news, so fantastically relevant to his future, drew him at once to London. Between 5 and 11 September he ascertained the precise area of devastation, worked out a plan for rebuilding the City and submitted it to Charles II. Others also submitted plans. However, no new plans proceeded any further than the paper on which it was drawn. A rebuilding act which provided rebuilding of some essential buildings was passed in 1667. In 1669, the King’s Surveyor of Works died and Wren was promptly installed.

Wren’s “warrant design” for St Paul’s.

‎ It was not until 1670 that the pace of rebuilding started accelerating. A second rebuilding act was passed that year, raising the tax on coal and thus providing a source of funds for rebuilding of churches destroyed within the City of London. Wren presented his initial “First Model” for St Paul’s. This plan was accepted, and demolition of the old cathedral began. By 1672, however, this design seemed too modest, and Wren met his critics by producing a design of spectacular grandeur. This modified design, called “Great Model”, was accepted by the King and the construction started in November, 1673. However, this design failed to satisfy the chapter and clerical opinion generally; moreover, it had an economic drawback. Wren was confined to a “cathedral form” desired by the clergy. In 1674 he produced the rather meagre Classical-Gothic compromise known as the Warrant Design. However, this design, called so from the royal warrant of 14 May 1675 attached to the drawings, is not the design upon which work had begun a few weeks before.

Wren’s cathedral as built.

The cathedral that Wren started to build bears only a slight resemblance to the Warrant Design. In 1697, the first service was held in the cathedral when Wren was 65. There was still, however, no dome. Finally in 1711 the cathedral was declared complete, and Wren was paid half of his salary that, in the hope of accelerating progress, Parliament had withheld for fourteen years since 1697. The cathedral had been built for 36 years under him, and the only disappointment he had about his masterpiece is the dome: against his wishes the commission engaged Thornhill to paint the inner dome in false perspective and finally authorized a balustrade around the proof line. This diluted the hard edge Wren had intended for his cathedral, and elicited the apt parthian comment that “ladies think nothing well without an edging”.^[7]

I discovered a copy of an awesome book entitled, “Rhinoceros Tap” in our home bookshelf tonight. It is a great story to read to your toddler because there is a fun CD that comes with it. There are 15 songs that go along with the story and I found it especially entertaining for me and for Jacob. He was dancing and bopping his head to the music. I highly recommend it.

The book also has a second section with sheet music and the full lyrics - so talented people like Bridget can play the piano and sing the songs to Jacob the Dancing Warrior.

Listen to the songs here.

Resist. Multiply. Buy this book!

For those that missed it on SNL….Thanks Will. You rock.

Resist. Multiply. Enjoy a great song or two.

Bridget and I had the chance to catch the Slumdog movie on Sunday night. My parents babysat Jacob and we got a night out - even if it was a day after Valentine’s. It was appreciated and well worth it. The movie was terrific. The story line basically follows a young Indian orphan through his life. The events of his life explain how he is able to answer questions on the popular game show “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”  Danny Boyle directed this visually stunning film. He’s best known for Trainspotting. The soundtrack is a pretty good purchase, as well. I bought it on itunes when I got home. Very cool stuff from A.R. Rahman.  Check it out and watch the trailer below.

I’m at a point in my life when movies make me think more about my own life and the things that are going on in it. After watching this film, I was very thankful for the life I live here in America. Even more so, I was extremely grateful that my son has all the chances he has in this country. This is not to say that India is without beauty and splendor - it is just to say that there are parts of this crazy world that do not always handle humanity in the way that we have grown accustomed in America. We are not a perfect people for sure…..but that is a tale for another time. 

Resist. Multiply. See Slumdog.

If you liked the last SNL video I posted then you’ll enjoy this one, too. There is an album coming soon, as well. Andy Samberg and company mock every rap video with a huge yacht. It’s pretty funny. Check it out:

If you have not yet checked out the new album TONIGHT by Franz Ferdinand - you need to spend the time on a listen. The first track, ULYSSES, is so different from any of their recent stuff. It has a cool driving background beat that is off-putting at first, but then gets drowned out by a synth-digital techno piece that flows into the Franz Ferdinand hook of popular hits like TAKE ME OUT. Very smooth and very catchy. Brilliant

Another great track follows the first one - TURN IT ON - has a vibe that makes me think about a guy trying his best to be indifferent and look cool while he attempts to catch the eye of the opposite sex. It has a certain “I don’t give a $%&@” sound.

Without giving the whole album away, this one is going to be the kind that gets better with each listen. The group has a unique sound. They are talented musicians, and well worth the ten bucks the album costs.

Lately, I’m more into this type of music. The band sounds older than they are. They are a throwback to sounds and beats from the past. They also remix some of the tracks. Very cool. It’s like they are saying, “Hey maybe this might sound good, too. Enjoy.”  

Check out this ULYSSES video…and buy the album!

Resist. Multiply. Listen to Franz Ferdinand.

If you love the Beatles and you are looking for a cool CD to play at bedtime check out Rockabye Baby CD’s.

Amazon offers many more, and they are cheaper than directly from Rockabye Baby’s website (with free shipping after 25 dollars at Amazon). Jacob loves the Radiohead one the best.

For those that are unaware of the true driving force behind the Red Hot Chili Peppers - I introduce to you the quiet genius that is John Frusciante. His latest solo project is beautiful, deep, and the truest measure of musical mastery in times saturated with pop crap. His songs will lift you up if you seek enlightenment and an expanded musical experience. The man is an amazingly, gifted talent.

I have been a fan of his ever since he emerged as a teenager with RHCP in the mid 80’s.  He hit a rough patch in his life with drug addiction, but what gifted artist doesn’t?  He has made it through brilliantly, and I would credit his musical abilities with the continued success of RHCP.  He should not remain a secret to any fan of music - no matter what genre.  Listen to his latest album The Empyrean on Amazon.com, and I am sure you will make the purchase.  If you like this one, I recommend To Record Only Water for Ten Days

If you need to check out his web page to read more about The Empyrean go to http://johnfrusciante.com/

I will be playing Frusciante’s music for Jacob in our next long car ride together. The kid loves the Doodlebops, but I can’t take it anymore.  I need to restart his musical education.  Frusciante seems like a very good place to begin.  

Resist. Multiply. Pay tribute to John Frusciante.

With the holidays over and done with, I recently used my I-Tunes gift cards to discover some new bands.  I usually use my Rolling Stones magazine to come across the latest musical brilliance, but I have also learned to use the similar artists features on I-Tunes.  Having done so, I was able to listen to a group called Portugal. The Man.  These guys are awesome.  I highly recommend a listen.  The lead singer has a very distinct voice (reminds me of Mars Volta smashed into The White Stripes), and the rest of the band are extremely talented musicians.  Very cool stuff.  My favorite track is one called The Bottom from this album below:

Come on!  Amalgamate Johnny Cash, Soundgarden, and Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers.  Come on!

Up Next: The Return of Owen Scott Verde, Back From The Dead, No, Seriously Folks

Resist. Multiply. I’m Gonna Break My Rusty Cage.

Over the holiday break from school I listened to Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!

I listened to it all of the time, all of it.

It’s a worthy listen, perhaps a worthy purchase.

Up Next: A Comic Picture

Resist. Multiply. Dig!

I’ve been sitting on this record, this story for some time now.  Fitting I gravitate to it now at this time and place in my life.  Blessed with a healthy son, a roof over my head, job security, and numerous modern luxuries, and comforts, but still I develop, maintain a serious disdain and disgruntled attitude toward the changing world we all live in.

The main character of this classic rock opera album is a young ‘mod’ named Jimmy.  Well, I’ve been listening to a lot Jimmy has to say via the masterful song writing of Pete Townshend, beautifully, electrically voiced by the three other blokes, Roger Daltry, John Entwistle and Keith Moon.

I recommend the purchase.  Solid, Masterful Work.

Another recommendation, for the complete experience:

1. Read the narrative intro. to the record

2. Look, study the images in the record (digital now through iTunes)

3. Read the lyrics

4. In one sitting, through head phones, listen to the record in it’s entirety

5. The previous four will paint the entire Quadrophenia picture

6. Long Live Rock

Until that day Jimmy, until that day…”Love Reign Over Me”.  When Dalton is old enough, ready, I will introduce him to Jimmy and the world of Quadrophenia.

Thursday: Ho Ho, Oh No!

Resist. Multiply. 5:15

If you just happen to be in the mood for a punk record consisting of aggressive, optimistic lyrics with a sense of neighborhood pride and an Irish mentality might I suggest the Dropkick Murphy’s ”The Meanest of Times”.  The lads really know how to write a fun record and use the bagpipes accordingly.  Distortion, bagpipes, Boston snarl and dadgad(celtic guitar/tuning)playing – great combination!

For Zippy, the one that lead the way to Strummerville.

What do Joe Strummer, wielding a 1966 Fender telecaster, the silver surfer cutting cosmic lines with his silver board, and Owen Scott Verde have in common?  Well good people of Tribe of Dad march on, read on, rock on, surf on.  Lengthy, but damn it’s worth it.

There are two cultural icons that have had a profound impact on the microcosm that is Owen Scott Verde’s world.  Both enigmatic, troubled characters have morphed into my own personal ying and yang, Abbot and Costello, and, or poet and prophet.

Throughout the years I have religiously listened to the charged music of Joe Strummer.  Whether is was music channeled through the legendary Clash, or his solo work I have listened, learned, and went about my day a bit differently and edgy thanks to his timeless musical endeavors.  Funny, the more time moves forward, leaving musical mediocrity and pop hits in the dusty pass, losing their staying power, the music of the Clash continues with vibrancy and influence.  Thirty-five or so years after their inception, the four blokes from London influence and inspire many an aspiring musician.  Art is immortal.  Therefore so is Joe Strummer, born John Graham Mellor.

The Silver Surfer, born Norrin Radd, surfs throughout the galaxy of comic book readers for eternity.   He too, like John Mellor, is a poet and perhaps a prophet.  He too, like John “Strummer” Mellor is caught in an infinite dilemma that plagues them, and perhaps me as well.

The Silver Surfer Dilemma
Originally a young astronomer of the planet Zenn-La, Norrin Radd made a bargain with a brutal, world encompassing, universe destroying being known as Galactus. The bargain was, in order for Norrin to save his beloved, peaceful planet from the hungry Galactus, he would travel the universe searching for planets Galactus could inhale.  Through the sacrificial bargain Radd acquired great powers, an armor of silver and an organic surfboard on which he would travel at speeds beyond that of light. Known from then on as the Silver Surfer, Radd began to roam the cosmos searching for new planets for Galactus to consume, forever leaving behind friends and family.

When his travels finally took him to Earth, the Surfer came face-to-face with the human race and it’s inability to live up to its sentient capabilities.  He pitied us, and the way we treat one another.  Earth was his planet before enlightenment and global compassion. Betraying Galactus, the Surfer saved Earth by not notifying him of his new find.  For doing so, Galactus punished the Silver Surfer by exiling him on Earth for eternity.  Making it the second great Silver Surfer sacrifice.

He left his home forever to protect it, only to come across a planet that would suit Galactus’ needs, freeing him of his enslavement, but refusing to let Galactus destroy it.  What did the good people of Earth do, they tried to destroy the Silver Surfer, ostracizing him.  Can you say Christ like figure?  The Silver Surfer, with legs draped over his long board, sways in our stratosphere, looking down at us, and we never bother to look up at him and praise him for his sacrifice.

The Joe Strummer Dilemma
As the silver surfer gazes down, occasionally ascending to be with the people of Earth, Joe Strummer carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and always looked up to the heavens, questioning.  This self inflicted Atlas syndrome could not be shaken by Strummer, or so I’ve read.  He was one hell of a boozer, slipped in and out of deep, chronic bouts of depression, and abused drugs for his entire, short lived, thorough life.  When Joe Strummer was a young man his older brother, some one he looked up to, killed himself while secluded at a military school.  Joe’s older brother was a troubled young man; he came from the same rigorous, very cold childhood Joe did, but he never was able to break free of this, so he broke totally free of it by ending his life.  According to close sources, friends of Joe Strummer, he blamed himself, and incessantly regretted not being a better support system for his broken hearted sibling.  The news of his brother’s pass had a profound, far reaching impact, shadowing Joe’s rebellious heart until the day he died of a life long heart condition.

While on his mountain like climb to musical success, and international fame, there were countless sacrifices made by Joe Strummer.  Broken ties with family and friends, poverty, filth, and reckless abandon were debts well paid.  Some fans, some critics, some musicologists say Strummer is timeless because he didn’t sing to us, or at us, but vocally raged for us.  Regardless of his downfalls, like the Silver Surfer, he truly believed in the human race.  The Silver Surfer saw in us what Joe Strummer might have seen in the gleaming eyes of the countless, sweaty, masses of concert goers when singing,” Know Your Rights!”, potential and unrequited decency. Strummer conveyed his message through his guitar playing, and politically, socially conscious lyrics.  The Silver Surfer proves himself with his trusty board carrying him throughout our troublesome world.  The Surfer could turn to Galactus at any moment, and say,”Master, take them, they’re yours.  They’re not worthy of my sacrifice.”  He has yet to do that; he still believes.  Joe Strummer never stopped believing. He came out of a 15 year seclusion to make music again, tour, reinvent himself, and even revisit some Clash standards when playing to devout, very diverse crowds around the world. Full circle.

The Zippy Dilemma Before The Owen Scott Verde Dilemma
A great friend of mine Zippy introduced me to The Clash, to Strummerville, and from there I never left, I applied for residency.  Citizenship.  Some time ago, Joe Strummer and The Mescaleros played at a small venue in Brooklyn.  The place was just down the street from my brother’s loft.  Zippy and I toyed, toyed with the idea of catching a show.  If my fading memory serves me correct, adding insult to injury, they were playing several nights there.  Every night, Zippy and I said to each other, “Tomorrow night.”  Well there was no other night.  Strummer and The Mescaleros left town for another city, another night of rock and roll.  Several months ago, Joe Strummer passed away at the young age of 50. Regret.  We f@*ked up Zippy. More regret.

The Owen Scott Verde Dilemma
I haven’t made many sacrifices in life.  I’ve grown up very fortunate, coming from a working middle class family. A white male in America. “Do no wrong. So clean cut. Dirty his hands. It comes right off.” So when it comes to the sacrifice angle I really can’t relate to, or find many correlations with Strummer and the Surfer.  However, as far as their view of modern man, well I fall right in line.  I have hope, but at the same time I often shake my head in despair, not understanding how, or why my brother’s are treating one another in such, vile non-humane ways. A safe bet would be to say I have a jaded, raspy Strummer optimism mixed with a Silver Surfer belief that we are worth the exile, and the wait until the realization is universal.

I play guitar. A fender, the same family that Joe’s faithful, favorite axe belonged to.  I surf.  The spiritual, intangible buzz, satisfaction the Surfer gets from shredding throughout the universe is one I can most definetly relate to.  There are many Buddhist allusions, and metaphors in the Silver Surfer comic books.  The Dharma, the Bodhisattva way, well, I’ve done some experimenting.  Strummer dealt with long runs of depression and irritability.  That’s a song I know all too well.

Surf & Strum - Coda
Joe Strummer lived his life according to one single, splendid motion, strumming a guitar.  This was his way of communicating with his fellow man.  The Silver Surfer conducted himself through another verb - surf. I attempt to do both’ I’m not very good, but I try, and that’s better than most can say.  At my personal Mt. Zion, or Valhalla, in a perfect afterlife, I would like to strum some guitars with Joe and surf with Silver.  Together we can hope for the best.

(Do you think the Silver Surfer ever has to wax his stick?)

Next: The Teacher, The Combat Veteran

Resist. Multiply. Strum. Surf.

Countless concerts I’ve attended; I’ve seen some really good ones as a matter of fact, and I would go so far to say I’ve been witness to actual, true musical moments when all else fades, but the organized sound cascading over you, around you, through you, and most importantly into you. Regardless of the size of the venue, size of the crowd, night of the week, time of the night I’ve bared witness, enough said.

Just up until last Tuesday one band still on my list of distorted guitars to see list was The Black Crowes. Yes, they’re still around, and they’re still holding the fading beacon light for the diminishing music scene of good old Americana rock and roll. They hold the light high and true, allowing like-minded, similar styled bands to follow out of threatening obscurity. They play very well, and with much sincerity. Years on the road have allowed them to fine tune their craft. You know, they’re called musicians; you remember those people don’t you. Artisans who actually know how to play instruments and perform live in front of living, breathing fans. The real deal is a phrase that comes to mind when thinking about them. They’re needed.

I’m getting way ahead of myself though.

Together, the Scientist and myself headed into NYC three hours before the band was slated to take the stage. Why go in so early? To drink. At a bar. With friends. Ah, the Scientist and I were really looking forward to saddling up to a stained, tainted wooden bar and befriending the bar keep while ordering Guinness after Guinness. Talking about life, liberty, and how it’s fading from America, kidding, sort of, ladies, dreams lost, dreams remembered and the cosmically dark humor of it all. To be quite frank with you after several pints our conversation would have reverted to farting, pooing, “hot” celebrities, “What’s next on your Netflix queue?”, and the next UFC fight card.

Apologies. Please let me provide some background information on the Scientist and my affiliation with him. The Scientist gets his handle from his very, very impressive guitar playing and musicality. He is an accomplished musician and a very good instructor with many clients both far and wide. A lot of musicians are mathematically inclined. There is a direct correlation between music and math. The Scientist approaches his six strings and piece of wood like a math professor, a scientists attempting to manipulate equations, formulas and patterns into great kick ass guitar riffs. “Keep On Rockin’ In The Free World.”

The Scientist and I did many a tour of duty when dealing with the painting of houses, both interior and exterior. Plenty of stories we have to tell about the marvelous characters we have painted for. Endless.

The Scientist and I headed into NYC to share yet another experience – seeing The Black Crowes live, after a couple of terrific pints. Well, that was the plan anyway. In record time we made it into mid-town Manhattan. On the corner of 9th and 34th, the concert venue in sight, we got into a fender bender. The plan begins to unravel. The bar we were scheduled to meet friends at was just two, count them, one, two blocks over. Salt in the wound, salt in the wound.

It wasn’t the Scientist’s fault, sort of. It’s complicated. There was a stagnant SUV on the street corner.  The SUV was in the bus lane.  Anyone from the area knows you cannot be parked in the bus lane.  However, the idle SUV was not from around these parts; the truck had Maryland plates.  Together, with countless other vehicles we sat at the red traffic light.  The light turned green.  The SUV did not move, or it appeared that way.  The Scientist hung a right, and, well you know that really awkward, violent sound cars make when colliding, or rubbing against each other.  That is the sound we heard.  That indescribable sound is ten times worse than the noise fingernails create when being dragged down a dusty chalkboard.

The Scientist looked at me, and said,”Sh#t.”

I looked at the Scientist, and said,”Sh#t.”

The walking commuters passing by, looked at us, and said, “Shi#t.”

Apparently the SUV decided to go straight ahead, exiting a bus lane.  Herro?

It turned out the damage was minimal, and everyone was civil.  Until.  The Maryland sight seer wanted a police report; he insisted on involving the police.  A simple exchange of licenses, contact information, and insurance cards would have sufficed, but NO!  We tried explaining to Mary Boy the NYC police have better things to do than file an insurance claim for a fender bender.  We tried explaining to him we would easily wait for a hour or two before the men in blue showed up to the scene of the accident.

We weren’t persuasive enough, the police were called at 7:55.  For amusement, and some minimal form of entertainment I started the stop watch on my phone.  Go ahead ladies and gentlemen place your bets.  How long do you think the Scientist and I sat on the corner of 9th and 34th with our hazards blinking while we waited for Five Oh to show up?  From years of concert going experience we knew The Black Crowes would take the stage around 9:30.  Time was now ticking away on my phone.

Not only did we wait there for 1 hour and 34 minutes for the police to show, or at least the cruiser dispatched to our ‘dire’ crime scene, we received several inquiring texts from our relaxed, intoxicated friends who sat at the bar just down the block.  Countless passer byers looked us over; we looked at countless passer byers.  Our much anticipated bar burger turned into soggy, over priced Sbarro pizza. Scientist stayed with the car; I grabbed some pizza.  We ate the pizza while we watched concert goers pouring into the venue.

To add much insult to injury.  Four to five police cruisers passed by us, not a care in the fender bender world.  As a matter of fact, two, not one, but two separate police cars double parked by us and ran in to grab some soggy, over priced Sbarro pizza.  Nothing was said.  No inquiries.  Nothing.  I bet you if members of The Black Crowes were walking around the block before the show and saw us in distress they would have asked if we were in need of assistance.

Finally, New York’s finest arrived, the car dispatched to tend to us, and a report was filed.  We made it to the show 6 songs late.  Tough way to start a concert going experience.  Immediately, we drank whiskey, a lot of it.  After the social elixirs were imbibed, the show was enjoyed, and the fender bender became a distant memory.  The show was phenomenal.  We bumped into our friends at the tail end of the performance.  Excited, and wanting to make up for lost time, we made a group decision to, yep, you guessed it, go to a pub.   Mistake number one.

Mistake number two, I began to drink several Black and Tans.  What’s that rule of thumb, liquor before beer, never sicker.  Well it’s true, especially the following morning when tending to a two month old after four toss and turn hours of sleep.  I got home at 2:30 in the morning; I woke up at 6:30 with Dalton.  With the concert still ringing in my ears, images of the accident and the extended wait still flashing before my eyes, I played with, loved, changed, and fed Dalton while nursing a fender bender,  Black Crowes, Whiskey and Guinness hangover.

It’s impossible to see The Black Crowes open their set and perform from the busy street corner of 9th and 34th.  The other impossibility, well almost, is getting a police officer to show up and write an accident report in mid town Manhattan.  We tried to tell Mary Land, but he wouldn’t listen.  The utmost impossibility is trying to rear your two month old son with a wicked, I won’t let you go, hangover.  The Black Crowes should write a blues inspired diddy about that.

Next: Demolition Man

Resist. Multiply. Don’t Ride In Bus Lanes.