Sunday, November 14, 2010
Sample Music on Facebook
We had a great jam session a week ago with some great musicians. You can hear New Rock God soloing in a 1-minute sample clip on Facebook. Just search New Rock God and listen to the sample. We hope to release the full 5-minute version with two other songs on a 3-song diskette. Hope you enjoy the sample!
Monday, November 8, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Breakthrough!
Somehow I've had somewhat of a breakthrough with New Rock God. Actually, I now know his name, but he has asked me not to use it on this blog. So be it.
Last night he called me and in a stream of consciousness type of conversation talked about putting together a band, releasing some music over the internet, starting a community of artists who would create and record on each other's projects. He likened artists to actors. Actors create across a range of genres...drama, comedy, thriller, action, etc. Why couldn't musicians do the same? I guess they already do, but maybe not to the degree that he wants to create. I have to tell you, it was an invigorating hour-long conversation. We even talked about his ancestry line to the man who IMHO was the greatest rock guitarist to ever live. That was the only lull in our conversation, and though he would not reveal if he was indeed ____ ________'s grandson, he did say to me, "You could call me a bit of a Voodoo Child."
He agreed to let me post a picture of him on the web for this blog site and the Facebook page I've created (New Rock God). This is a big step forward for him, as he indicated that in the last few years he's been afflicted with severe stage fright. He seems to be coming out of it now. We also have plans to go into the studio and produce a nice little jam tape as a demo...and he's even considering letting me run the video that I took of him the day we met.
Stay tuned! Things are moving foward.
Last night he called me and in a stream of consciousness type of conversation talked about putting together a band, releasing some music over the internet, starting a community of artists who would create and record on each other's projects. He likened artists to actors. Actors create across a range of genres...drama, comedy, thriller, action, etc. Why couldn't musicians do the same? I guess they already do, but maybe not to the degree that he wants to create. I have to tell you, it was an invigorating hour-long conversation. We even talked about his ancestry line to the man who IMHO was the greatest rock guitarist to ever live. That was the only lull in our conversation, and though he would not reveal if he was indeed ____ ________'s grandson, he did say to me, "You could call me a bit of a Voodoo Child."
He agreed to let me post a picture of him on the web for this blog site and the Facebook page I've created (New Rock God). This is a big step forward for him, as he indicated that in the last few years he's been afflicted with severe stage fright. He seems to be coming out of it now. We also have plans to go into the studio and produce a nice little jam tape as a demo...and he's even considering letting me run the video that I took of him the day we met.
Stay tuned! Things are moving foward.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I Was Seriously Holding My Breath
So New Rock God didn't come by and pick up the guitar on the day he indicated. After a few days, I called the moving company he works for and they told me he had abruptly quit. My heart really sank. I figured that was it...maybe he went back East where he said he was from.
Then today when I get to my office he's already there, showing my receptionist some chords on the guitar. If she hadn't been there I probably would have hugged him. So we talked for quite awhile...about religion, family, politics, women, everything but music. He said he didn't like to talk about music, his or anyone else's. How can you play guitar like that and not want to talk about music? I talk about music 24/7. If I could play guitar like he does I would be a babbling idiot. When he started talking about going into a studio and laying down a track, I got so excited I nearly wet myself. I told him I could arrange anything he needed, and he said he'd get back to me soon. Then he paid me a compliment...that I didn't seem nearly as slimey as most music producers. Then he took off.
I showed my receptionist the video I had taken of him the day I moved in. She commented that he was the her favorite type of musician..."a rocker with a six-string and a six-pack."
Then today when I get to my office he's already there, showing my receptionist some chords on the guitar. If she hadn't been there I probably would have hugged him. So we talked for quite awhile...about religion, family, politics, women, everything but music. He said he didn't like to talk about music, his or anyone else's. How can you play guitar like that and not want to talk about music? I talk about music 24/7. If I could play guitar like he does I would be a babbling idiot. When he started talking about going into a studio and laying down a track, I got so excited I nearly wet myself. I told him I could arrange anything he needed, and he said he'd get back to me soon. Then he paid me a compliment...that I didn't seem nearly as slimey as most music producers. Then he took off.
I showed my receptionist the video I had taken of him the day I moved in. She commented that he was the her favorite type of musician..."a rocker with a six-string and a six-pack."
Friday, October 22, 2010
Patience is Rewarded
Tonight he called me! Okay, that sounds...not exactly how it should, but I was that excited.
He talked for quite some while about his time gigging in NYC...Nashville for a bit...Chicago...Miami. All he wanted to do was to get on stage and play his guitar, have some fun and maybe make some money. He had never thought seriously about becoming a "rock star." He didn't want any accolades, or to be recognized on the street, or great fame. For him, there is something magical about the power of live music...an artist communicating with others through the power of their art. He asked me, "Do you know how it feels to have your heart swell for hours?" The comparisons to a guitar legend were always there...and then the rumors would start about his lineage...was he really the grandson of _____ __________? And then the pressure followed. Unbearable pressure...stage fright for awhile, unable to hardly hold a guitar pick, let alone fret a guitar. He stopped playing for a time...
He asked me if he could come by and play my guitar sometime. I told him I had not touched it since the day he played. Just didn't seem right... In fact, he could have the damn thing if he wanted it. I think I could hear tears in his voice when he asked me if he could come pick it up around noon. Patience...
He talked for quite some while about his time gigging in NYC...Nashville for a bit...Chicago...Miami. All he wanted to do was to get on stage and play his guitar, have some fun and maybe make some money. He had never thought seriously about becoming a "rock star." He didn't want any accolades, or to be recognized on the street, or great fame. For him, there is something magical about the power of live music...an artist communicating with others through the power of their art. He asked me, "Do you know how it feels to have your heart swell for hours?" The comparisons to a guitar legend were always there...and then the rumors would start about his lineage...was he really the grandson of _____ __________? And then the pressure followed. Unbearable pressure...stage fright for awhile, unable to hardly hold a guitar pick, let alone fret a guitar. He stopped playing for a time...
He asked me if he could come by and play my guitar sometime. I told him I had not touched it since the day he played. Just didn't seem right... In fact, he could have the damn thing if he wanted it. I think I could hear tears in his voice when he asked me if he could come pick it up around noon. Patience...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Time to Back Off
I called the movers again today, and hired the guitar player for another move. Except I didn't have anything to move. Call me desperate...
So he came into my office and I asked him if he would play guitar for me. He declined, saying he wasn't inspired. I asked him about the rumor the other mover had whispered in my ear, about him being a descendant of ____ _______. He turned away. I asked him if he would sign a release so I could post the video I took. He gave me a look that would melt the strings on my Epiphone.
He asked me if I was interested in him for some reason other than his music? I told him emphatically that I was not. I implored him to continue to further his gift, and to let me help. I asked him if he had a guitar and he said he didn't. I offered him mine. He called me desperate, and left. I still tipped him.
It's time to back off, but I can't. I'm a producer. I love music. I love rock guitar music. It's who I am.
So he came into my office and I asked him if he would play guitar for me. He declined, saying he wasn't inspired. I asked him about the rumor the other mover had whispered in my ear, about him being a descendant of ____ _______. He turned away. I asked him if he would sign a release so I could post the video I took. He gave me a look that would melt the strings on my Epiphone.
He asked me if I was interested in him for some reason other than his music? I told him emphatically that I was not. I implored him to continue to further his gift, and to let me help. I asked him if he had a guitar and he said he didn't. I offered him mine. He called me desperate, and left. I still tipped him.
It's time to back off, but I can't. I'm a producer. I love music. I love rock guitar music. It's who I am.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Too Excited, can't sleep!
Have you ever been so excited that you just couldn’t sleep? I only have myself to blame. After hearing this guitar player I blew up everyone’s phone telling them about my discovery. My mind and my mouth were racing all day, and when it came time to sleep, I couldn’t. I set up this blog. The name came from the only thing I could think of…that this guy was a new Rock God. Maybe I’ll change the name of it once I find out his real name and identity.
I called the movers at 8AM this morning. Don’t know what I was thinking. They were closed of course, but I was so determined to find out who this kid is that no option was out of reason. I Googled everything I could about the descendants of a certain Guitar God, and came up empty. Then I went on GoDaddy.com and bought a website: NewRockGod.com. I want to get this kid in the studio…maybe call in some session guys so they can give me a more objective opinion. I’m thinking of starting a page on Facebook, but I’m probably getting ahead of myself. Aaarrrrggghhhh!!! I’ve been in this business to long to be acting like an excited teenager!
I called the movers at 8AM this morning. Don’t know what I was thinking. They were closed of course, but I was so determined to find out who this kid is that no option was out of reason. I Googled everything I could about the descendants of a certain Guitar God, and came up empty. Then I went on GoDaddy.com and bought a website: NewRockGod.com. I want to get this kid in the studio…maybe call in some session guys so they can give me a more objective opinion. I’m thinking of starting a page on Facebook, but I’m probably getting ahead of myself. Aaarrrrggghhhh!!! I’ve been in this business to long to be acting like an excited teenager!
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Still in Shock
Today was a day I’d been dreading for weeks. There’s nothing I hate more than moving…especially when it’s my business office. Something always gets left behind. Usually it’s something that makes me money.
Surprisingly, the movers arrived on time, and they even looked capable for once. One guy, an African American, I think maybe about 24 years old was really focused on the job. I like that. No time wasted and no idle breaks and chitchat. He appeared strong, and task oriented…how often do you see that anymore? I would later realize that he was just painfully shy, hiding behind hair that reminded me of the guys in Milli Vanilli. Anyways it was pretty hot in my new office off Vine Avenue, after a dreary weak of rain and low temperatures. I took note of his good work ethic in less than ideal conditions. I tip well for good service, and he was certain to earn my gratitude.
One thing that didn’t get left behind was my Epiphone, Les Paul Standard electric guitar. As a music producer, and specifically Rock ‘N Roll, I wish I could say that I’m a master of the instrument. But I’m not. I know a few chords and a few riffs, but I’m certainly not good enough to make a living doing it. Those who can…do, and those who cannot - produce.
On one of the breaks, I noticed that the young African American guy had taken notice of the guitar and my Peavey amp. I asked him if he played and he replied, “A little.” So I hooked it up with a couple of effects pedals and told him he was welcome to strap it on.
Twenty minutes later, and as I write this, I was in shock. It was as if the future and the past of rock guitar had collided. I don’t even want to play my guitar anymore…I feel like I’m desecrating music. This kid was phenomenal. I was thinking of who I could compare him to, but he crossed over into so many styles that I gave up trying to put a label on him.
You would be able to see for yourself what I’m talking about, as he did allow me to record him on videotape. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t sign a release for me to use it. After the other movers and I sang his praises, he crawled back into his shy demeanor and continued with the job at hand. I couldn’t believe that his hands were moving my stuff. It should be the other way around.
I never got his name. He wouldn’t give it to me. He took my business card and I offered him whatever help he might need in fulfilling his music endeavors. Most musicians kill to hear that sort of offer from a real producer. He didn’t. It was as if my offer was the exact opposite of what he wanted. As they were leaving, one of the other movers came over and added to the aura. “Rumor is he’s either the illegitimate grandson or grand-nephew of ______ _________.” I’m not going to write the name of the legend he whispered in my ear. You know him. You know his music. If what he said is true…
I’m looking down at my hands and they’re shaking so much that I can’t type anymore. I’m still in shock.
Surprisingly, the movers arrived on time, and they even looked capable for once. One guy, an African American, I think maybe about 24 years old was really focused on the job. I like that. No time wasted and no idle breaks and chitchat. He appeared strong, and task oriented…how often do you see that anymore? I would later realize that he was just painfully shy, hiding behind hair that reminded me of the guys in Milli Vanilli. Anyways it was pretty hot in my new office off Vine Avenue, after a dreary weak of rain and low temperatures. I took note of his good work ethic in less than ideal conditions. I tip well for good service, and he was certain to earn my gratitude.
One thing that didn’t get left behind was my Epiphone, Les Paul Standard electric guitar. As a music producer, and specifically Rock ‘N Roll, I wish I could say that I’m a master of the instrument. But I’m not. I know a few chords and a few riffs, but I’m certainly not good enough to make a living doing it. Those who can…do, and those who cannot - produce.
On one of the breaks, I noticed that the young African American guy had taken notice of the guitar and my Peavey amp. I asked him if he played and he replied, “A little.” So I hooked it up with a couple of effects pedals and told him he was welcome to strap it on.
Twenty minutes later, and as I write this, I was in shock. It was as if the future and the past of rock guitar had collided. I don’t even want to play my guitar anymore…I feel like I’m desecrating music. This kid was phenomenal. I was thinking of who I could compare him to, but he crossed over into so many styles that I gave up trying to put a label on him.
You would be able to see for yourself what I’m talking about, as he did allow me to record him on videotape. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t sign a release for me to use it. After the other movers and I sang his praises, he crawled back into his shy demeanor and continued with the job at hand. I couldn’t believe that his hands were moving my stuff. It should be the other way around.
I never got his name. He wouldn’t give it to me. He took my business card and I offered him whatever help he might need in fulfilling his music endeavors. Most musicians kill to hear that sort of offer from a real producer. He didn’t. It was as if my offer was the exact opposite of what he wanted. As they were leaving, one of the other movers came over and added to the aura. “Rumor is he’s either the illegitimate grandson or grand-nephew of ______ _________.” I’m not going to write the name of the legend he whispered in my ear. You know him. You know his music. If what he said is true…
I’m looking down at my hands and they’re shaking so much that I can’t type anymore. I’m still in shock.
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