elvis and britney and john and ringo and bruce and...

i don't like when people bust on singers or artists out there. is britney spears as talented as john lennon? no, but she's not saying she is. she's an entertainer. when the beatles were new the parents said "it sounds like noise". lotsa people think elvis is a joke. they called the beatles mop tops and nothing more. ringo can't drum. really? no? he's not that good? hmmm....he was good enough for john lennon and paul mccartney! yeah, i guess you're right, he sucked. lol. YOU try it!

bruce can't sing? bob dylan can't sing? really? listen to lay lady lay. listen to tangled up in blue.
"music today sucks". they say that sentence every generation.

i love all of the folks above. i love dylan, i like some of those britney songs. she didn't write'm folks, they're written by some great writers. i like yoko ono. john loved her. if you hate her, then how much did u really love john?

i hate hate. i really do. ya better love this life buddy, it's all we got.
"bruce sucks". no he doesn't. you suck for sitting around saying this sucks and that sucks.

tom petty looks older.
so do you! so do i!

love this life, happy christmas.
SSS

i am opposed to SAME SEX marriage!

I think couples should have all kinds of sex! switch it up, try different things! why should we have the SAME SEX every night!!

for the past few weeks...

i had the privlege of working and playing with a few talented musicians and songwriters at delaware valley friends school. the project was called "world up" and chandler, morris, elizabeth, zoe, jesse, winslow, tague, simon and reid wrote songs of change. change for the better that is.

the students, myself and a few great teachers there put on an assembly where the songs were performed. the last to perform was myself and sharon little. she sang john lennon's masterpiece "imagine". 

it felt like we all did for those 3 minutes. 

i really enjoyed "teaching" whatever it is that i've picked up along the way in my years of making music, making friends and thankfully making money to continue making more music and friends.

thanks dvfs for the experience.

what would happen...

if i stopped facebook?

cancelled my myspace page?

would my brain have more room in it?

would i lose friends or oppurtunities?

would it be a great thing or a bad thing?

tell me your thoughts!

natural organic computer friendships, warm and fuzzy usb ports etc.

the internet is unnatural at best.

unnatural things happen.

it's unnatural to stare at anything for hours, as we do the computer screen.

it's unnatural to marry someone that, at first, was a jpeg.

mostly i find the re-connection of old friends (via myspace, facebook) the most unnatural thing.

there is a reason you're not actively still friendly with your childhood friends: 

you got new ones! you got older! you moved! it's 30 years later!

how many people can you stay in touch with? every friend from every decade?

these exciting at first, ultimately weird feeling email reunions usually go like this:

"hey, 'member me from 3rd grade?!" 

"omg, i do..wow how ya been??" 

"great, i have 3 kids and i am in marketing and my wife stella is a stay at home mom" "awesome, last i saw you, you were throwing up on my hair" 

"so......ok...." 

"alrighty then" 

"right back at ya tough guy" 

then the inevetable silence. 

no more emails from old friend. 

no more messages from old friend. 

nothing. 

just dead silence like the seconds after a snow storm in montana. 

now instead of having a fond memory somewhere in the back of your mind of so and so from junior high or the neighborhood, you have a very active current thought of the fact that you two are defintely not active friends anymore. you now know that you can get in touch with them and they can get in touch with you and you are both currently...NOT. 

i'm not sure but i think i just got blown off by my first girlfriend! 

that, my friends, is unnatural.

booked solid: 3 shows featuring me doing nothing at home!

the furnace is hot, the stove is on, the books are getting dog-eared and the trash is out.

yes, home is good.

upgrading and updating my studio, aka treble in paradise, has begun today.

new songs on the burner and time to sing'em.

gearing up for a show december 6th in west chester where the sisters three and sharon little and myself will be playing.

met with the folks at delaware valley friends school earlier this week where preperations for a winter project with the students will culminate (that is a word, right?) in a show featuring songs written by and with around 8 kids. 

the school is unlike any school i am used to, in that the students look like they want to be there.

i can see why. it's like a house with every bedroom a different theme. bacon cooking here, discussions there, music over here. 

last night i read a book of quotes. thinking i may break some out here in blogland soon.

how are you? whatcha doin' for thanksgiving?

SileNce iS gOlden

eNjoy iT

CSI:NY, JFK Airport, LA, PA, etc.

"action!"

Last night Sharon Little and I flew from New York to San Pedro, California to pretend we were in a New York subway performing.

ahh, showbiz...

The show: CSI New York, episode airs December 10th

Gary Sinise stars in the scene and says something about street performers.

Sharon and I almost crack up and ruin the scene.

We performed "Spaceship", the first song we ever wrote.

Gary and I talk basses (he's a player). Everyone gets quiet when Sharon starts singing. Director loves it and after a few hours (we started at 6am), a few takes, a few cups of coffee and a few plates of food, it's all over.

"It's a wrap"!

Halloween In Madison

6:27pm

we are in an elevator with peter pan at a hiking store. we don't hike, we're just bored.

7:32pm

we are eating skewered meat and drinking asian fizzy drinks served by a 70's porn star.

8:58pm

still there. bowie's hunky dory on the stereo. sarah palin walks by us and says one word: "maverick"

9:24pm

get a text from tour manager: "bus leaves at 1:15am"

9:42pm

now at chill-out cigar/lounge bar. dean martin look-a-like on stage. sharon little takes mic, sings "fever". then "saints go marching in". 3 sisters who lost one sister to breast cancer are whooping it up. they are funny. everyone wants to know who sharon is.

10:09pm

i buy another cigar and a port wine. this is the place for sure.

11:23pm

at a hotel lounge now. jazz trio. dorothy is having a drink. cops everywhere, real cops. this is their rest station for halloween night. sharon introduces herself to trio and sings "over the rainbow".

she doesn't remember the other parts of the song so she keeps singing  the"somewhere over the rainbow" line over and over. the looks on band's faces: priceless.

12:46am

looking out the window of chinese food restaurant. the ladies of madison this year seem to have opted for the prostitute look over the scary haunted traditional look. i don't mind. sharon rolls her eyes.

1:15am we, on the bus, leave the chaotic scene that is Halloween on the Univerity of Wisconson campus.

Obama On Our Bus???!!!!

That's right folks.

The inspiring, energetic, future thinking and breath of fresh air ray of hope (aka Obama) used the same exact tour bus that we used for his campaign!

How cool?!?

We are honored.

Last night we had a great show in front of the coolest people Minneapolis has got!

They even had a piano there, in which I played our song Peppermint and Glue on.

Sharon killed it as usual and the crowd was wowed (hey that rhymes) as usual.

This morning I was awoken by 20, yep, 20 screaming girls with Matt White/Gap shirts outside our bus in Madison, Wisconsin. It was......weird.

oh...and.......CONGRATZ PHILLIES!!!!!

p.s./disclaimer: i understand that throwing out political endorsements is risky in general (and very un-me, i don't want to offend) but i simply have a tough time getting behind a fellow (mccain) that visibly can't control his anger and puts down a fellow american like obama. i don't want that kind of person representing me. remember: even though obama is running against him, he is a great american and to make him look like he is a friend of terrorists is ugly and short-sighted. we are lucky to have obmama whethere he wins or not.

also, i feel that if there was ever a time for a little ethnicity in the white house it's now. it's time to look and act wordly. 

and lastly, stop thinking so much about yourself and your taxes and start thinking about the world in which we live. i'll gladly trade a few hundred dollars for a leader of such rich ethics, appeal, passion and smarts. 

and if mccain wins, i will support him and hope for the best. i think both candidates have qualities that the other doesn't. i just feel this moment in time needs a man like obama. it's been a long bad 8 years...

The Difference A Good Meal Can Make

The last few meals have been.....well, they've just been.

Last night it was fried bar food. This morning it was Cracker Barrel. By the way, for the record, Sharon Little HATES Cracker Barrel.

But ol' CB seems like a diamond mine when spotted on the highway by a hollow stomached musician.

Earlier this evening I got a text from a fan/friend from Des Moines, Iowa that he'd be making the trek to Minneapolis to see us play. As I texting him back I overheard our bus driver (substitute bus driver, that is) that we will be passing Des Moines in about 2 hours. 

Well, my friend from Iowa is not only is a fan and friend but the owner and chef of possibly the best restaurant in the world called the Flying Mango. It's a place Sharon and I actually played twice before. Kind of like the Tin Angel of Des Moines. Class joint, music fanatics and ridiculously good Tangy Carribean-style food.

"Hey wait" I shouted "why don't we eat in Des Moines at my friend's place!?".

2 hours later the contents of our bus unloaded ourselves and re-assembled into the Flying Mango. We were treated to, how do i say this.....the best food of all time on all the earth.

Salads with peanuts and onions and deep blue and green lettuce. Several plates of wings...no, not fried but soaked in the tastiest, lightest jerk chicken-like sauce.

Then, almost on-cue, plates of ribs. Thick juicy, meaty, more meat than bone ribs. Complete with homeade barbeque sauce.

Bottles of red wine, bottles of Voodoo dark beer swirled around us in a haze of pure happiness.

The bad weather, blown tires, crusty bus drivers and long hours on the bus were a faded memory as Mike, the owner of Flying Mango, stayed open late and hooked us up with the meal of a lifetime, at just the right time. Everyone that works there (it's a small cozy restauarant) loves it...and you can tell.

Tomorrow, let the sh-t pick up where it left off.

Do You Like Indie?

Cab driver: So..what kinda music do you guys do?

(how many times am i gonna be asked this in this lifetime?)

Scot: Um...I guess like bluesy acoustic kinda thing.

Cab Driver: Do you like indie?

(oh g-d, really? I can't do this)

Scot: uh...well man...geez...I don't even know what "indie" means...like alternative? cuz you know, it's been so long already since the alternatuve thing that, you know, what really is alternative??

Cab Driver: No, I mean Indy...as in Indiana!

Scot: Oh.

Thinking the blow out would be the main bus malfunction, I was awoken in the middle of the night by a strange pattern the driver was was making: "blublullblublublblbl....smimsimsimismism........hmmmmm.....blblblbublbublbub..."

Seems the engine was shot and the bus could not go faster than 4 mph. The driver drove us on the shoulder of the road for an hour before stopping to fix the engine himself. We continued to sleep till Lee the tour manager woke us saying "ok here's the deal: the bus is f**cked. There's a white stretch limo waiting to take us to another tour bus about 5 miles from here. 

Just then Mike (aka "reason") threw up in the toilet after a bit of a binge last night. 

Cut to the Matt White band, Sharon Little, myself and "reason" pale as a ghost in a beautiful stretch limo.

We are now in bus #2 while bus #1 gets fixed. Me and Matt struming guitars, Sharon fixing up the lounge to look like a gypsy parlor.

Show in Lincoln, Nebraska is cancelled. Somehow, this makes everyone supiciously happy.

Next show: Minneapolis, tomorrow night.

Maybe I am into Indy.

Sharon Little Stranded at a Truck Stop!

"We are a bus".

Ever hear that sentence before? That is what is told the driver of a tour bus when he asks if everyone is on the bus before he starts driving away.

"Everyone here?" Scot? "yeah"...Sharon?"... "yeah"... "Matt?....Matt?" "yep"...and so on...

"We are a bus" and then we head back on the road.

We pull up to a truckstop somewhere outside of...well..i honestly can't remember what town it was..for our driver to check the air in the tires. Usually our stops are for at least 15 minutes.

I get off the bus, go into the mini mart...look at an Alabama CD (thinking "what's their song again?"), pick up a vitamin water and start noticing that i don't see anyone else from our bus.

Just a few snaggle toothed truck drivers and some weary women behind the counter. I get outta there quickly and see the bus driving away. Shit. Luckily they only go across the highway to another truck stop. I get out of the cold 1am air and hop on the bus (gus).

Where's Sharon? My cell rings, the number is unfamiliar, it's a shakey sounding Sharon. "Where are you guys?" "Where are you?" " I'm at the truck stop and you guys split" "Shit, I'll be right there". I run over and get her. Having a couple truckers hit on her, she is understandably upset. 

Back on the bus I announce "please, if we are going to drive away from anywhere let's make sure we are all on the bus". 

As soon as my sentence ends the bus driver jumps out of his seat, marches right in my direction like he's gonna clock me and shouts something in my face that I can't make out through the anger and southern accent. He's freaking me out. And he's freaking out Sharon.

This is unbelievable. Sharon shouts to him "don't yell at him he's just concerned about me".

He marches back to the driver's seat and peels away, bus sways hard left and right.

I ask myself "why am I doing this?" Lee, the tour manager and Matt argue. "He's fired" Matt says, referring to the driver. "That's just not cool" he says. 

Lee disagrees. "She shoulda had her phone..plus I announced that this was just a quick stop".

Well, I never heard that announcement.

I don't care if it's a quick stop and then a ride across the street or a long stop and a drive across the state, you never just drive away.

Anyone have any thoughts on this?

For Hours of Operation and General Information

There's a dog on board this ship.

His name is Truman and he was rescued by matt white and his band from the streets of San Antonio. 

Sharon and I were off the bus for 2 days while we recouperated from bad colds in our chests and whatnot. It was a good break. We needed it. Were we replaced by a dog?

Now we are in Little Rock, Arkansas. 

We played this place, Juanita's, last year when there was a tornado/ice storm kinda thing happening outside. This time it's pretty calm and balmy and still.

This time the storm is in us.

To say that it's all fun and music and glamour on a tour is make-believe. 

Sometimes it's sore back muscles, bad food and chatty crowds.

And speaking of chatty crowds, I never understand why people pay money to go to a show and then talk while the show is going on. 

If you'd really rather hear your friend yapping in your ear about who-know's-what instead of listening to an amazing singer who drove 1,000 miles to sing for you: go to Friday's!

Ok, I feel better now.

Where was I?

United States Of America: Under Construction

Everywhere i go

Every street I take

There are crumbs of bridges being repaired

And cement cracking in the heat

Yes, the U.S. is under construction

From the midnight moon to the morning sun

The U.S. is under construction

And the work is never done

mister yost

my favorite and most influencial teacher died yesterday.

mister yost taught fine arts at plymouth whitemarsh highschool. 

yost not only had the dryest sense of humor but a way of rolling his eyes at some of the stupid stuff me and the other numbskulls were probably talking about before class started.

i never understood what a respectable man in both presence and manner was doing teaching at our school. he was more like a professor than just another teacher.

when me and my friends were looking at a picture of marilyn monroe one day i remember him commenting "ugh, i always thought she was the tackiest woman i had ever seen". 

i never heard anyone say anything like that about her. i remember thinking "ya know what? she is kinda tacky".

he taught me how to shade and not draw a line when i sketched. 

"there are no lines that make up someone's nose, just the shade that shows it protrudes". 

this may be a common comment in the art teacher world but his way of saying it stayed with me to this day and more days to come i'm sure. he told me one day that blue was my color (i was wearing a blue shirt that day). i saw him 15 years later in an art store and reminded him that he told me about blue being my color and how i always wear blue because of that to which he said dryly  "you're not wearing it now".

then he rolled his eyes.

i'll always remember you mister yost. thanks for giving plymouth whitemarsh a little class for a little while. and thanks for teaching me how to draw, which i still do to this day.

vote for a tow truck

it's 6am somewhere in new mexico and seven almost famous musicians are laughing, crying and arguing.

the powerful trusty modern beast that is the tour bus just blew a tire and "pope", our bus driver, basically saved all our lives via his expertise. 

with a car it's tough enough, but try stablizing a massive 12 bunk tour bus safely to a stop.

the guys in the band we are touring with are kinda like the grown up (or not so grown up) cast of the movie "stand by me". they have a cinematic rhythm to their jabs at each other. one of the guys is admitting that he thought we were gonna die. like really die. "were you crying man?"a voice from one bunk asks. "yeah, i was!" "holy sh-t" dude". everyone laughs. 

"good thing the bus was in the left lane" says pope in his dead-on jerry west accent. pope is tim mcgraw and faith hill's regular bus driver. he has more than a few stories to tell. 

"driver's side tire blows and it pulls the bus hard right. that's what happened to my buddy's bus, the one that drives that band "disturbed". pulled him to the right and they hit a tree"

the band thanks pope for bringing the bus to safety and we all give him a round of applause. now we wait while the rest of the road speeds past us. 

did i mention that huge letters on the side of our road home say "vote for love"?

we must be a sight.

hot and cold

tuscan

the air is on fire

i'm under the weather

tour bus is cool

cash in the cash box

accountaint in los angeles

single goes to radio monday

Sissy Spacek, San Diego and Slim Harpo

Planes are literally flying mere yards over the Casbah, the club we are getting ready to play, tonight in San Diego. So low that the law in this part of town says that noone is allowed on the rooftops for fear of rock throwing.

We are on night # 5 of a 20 show tour with Matt White as well as a few shows with Schuyler Fisk (daughter of Sissy Spacek and very talented singer/writer herself).

Today I listened to Slim Harpo, a great foot stompin' bluesman from many moons ago. Inspiring.

Feeling more physical than creative right now. Very homesick. 

I used to think homesick was actually a sickness, now I'm certain of it.

Snow Storm

Tour bus.

Snow storm.

Seattle, Washington to Pocatelo, Idaho.

Freezing rain.

Middle of nowhere.

No food.

Pawn shop.

100 local kids.

Autographs.

Bus to california beach tomorrow.

Sayings You, Sayings Me

It seems every day you hear another great saying. The kind that makes you smile and slightly shake your head with that "yes, so true..." kind of thing when you hear it.

The one that keeps coming back but flipped around every time I hear it is this one:

"Never regret something you didn't do"

Yes, so true...

But then I also hear...

"Never regret something you did, only something you didn't do"

It's a very demanding saying. That whole "never" part. 

In fact, "never" seems to be in a lot of them. "Never" this and "never" that...."always" do this..."always" do that. Sayings are g-d damn bossy.

How bout "never follow a saying that says 'always' do something!"

But today I have made a decision:

I am going to live ONLY via sayings and nothing else.

I'll get back to you in a year and let you know how I'm doin'...

Where's Sally Hampton???

Or Thelma Days Inn? How bout Liz Best Western?

All we ever hear about is Paris Hilton.

Where are all the daughters of all the other hotel moguls? 

Are they shy? Ugly? 

Both?

Ya never hear nothin' bout none o' them!

I'll bet Debby Budget Lodge is pissed.

....i'm just sayin'.....

little bit me, little bit you

drove through mt. shasta tonight. 

wow, what an experience. 

beyond words, really.

actually drove through clouds (!) that made the world look like it was being steamed like a clam (or burger from white castle, take your pick). 

cool air, white clouds, dark sky.

winding round huge mountains and 18 wheelers, we were.

feeling small but content. stupid and wise. lucky for sure.

thinking bout the past few weeks and the ones coming up.

sleeping in medford, oregan tonight.

heading to portland tomorrow. 

seattle the next day.

sharon little all along the way.

Question

If you are a woman all alone in a car driving in the carpool lane but pregnant, is it legal?

Blood, Glass and Plant

Heading into San Francisco on 5  hours sleep (having performed at 2 radio stations and to shows in Seattle and Portland in 48 hours) we are pulled over for driving in the "non-uhaul lane" by the local police. An hour later we arrive at Hotel Carlton. The lobby is filled with guitar and banjo cases, suitcases and headcases. We are shuttled to Golden Gate Park where the "Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival" is about to begin. Sharon Little, Ronny Crawford, Mark Getten and I are joined by our friend and roadie Tom Laskas and head of CBS Records marketing  woman Audrey Faine. Backstage at this hippie-filled west coast fest are familiar folks like Elvis Costello and, of all people, MC Hammer. In front of a few thousand people Sharon and band deliver some sexy soul to a hip-grooving hand clapping response. Minutes after we are whisked off to not one but two "meet and greets" for the record label where Sharon and I perform and shake hands. 

Passing out after a smoked salmon and free booze coma I wake up with a sore back like Stretch Armstrong after some yoga gone wrong. The hotel people tell me an in-room massgage is $120. "Anyone in the area cheaper?" I ask. "sure, up the street is a good place called 'Olay' ". Sharon and I walk in and notice it smells a bit. Not like lotion or clean but like someone's aunt's house. 

They ask for cash ($60) and point to a private room. I tell the girl that my back is sensitive and she promptly stands on it, full force. I realize that this is not a real massuesse pretty quickly. In fact,  I feel fairly certain when she offers me a "happy ending" via swift hand motions and even swifter chinese speaking. We return to the hotel to pack, now late morning, when Tom calls from the parking lot. "we got broken into". Of course, I think. Someone punched their first through our driver's side window and stole, get this, our GPS. Nothing else, not my camera...or cd's or the radio. There is blood and glass on the driver's seat.

It's now around 2pm. We have to return the car to the San Fran aiport and get a new non-broken window replacement. A tough day to make it through the city by the bay. Not only is the Bluegrass fest still going, but it's Love Fest too! Great. We are not feeling much love as we get the new wheels. It's now after 4pm and we find out tonight's show, the 2nd to last Plant/Krauss show, is an early one. Showtime is 7pm. Shit! Getting there on time (it's in wine country, Kelseyville, California) is tough but possible. The only thing that would make it nearly treacherous and nearly impossible would be having to tow a uhaul through hair-pin turns high up in the mountains. Why this route? Cuz we ain't got no GPS and google tells us this is the best way. It's not. It's now after 6pm and I am texting their tour manager that we are almost there. I am lying. 6:28 and we are still winding around the highest of mountains, kind of like...a stairway to heaven perhaps. 6:47, 13 minutes befor showtime (!!). we pile out of the car. There are crew people and security everywhere with walkie talkies. "we got'em" I overhear. Sharon is throwing clothes all over the car looking for her lipstick. The sun is down and the winds are whipping like wild horses, the way they do just before a downpour. The headliner's drum kit is covered in a tarp that looks like it's about to fly off into the sea, which is right next to the stage. There are approximately 3,000 people there...the smalles venue on this whole tour. It's ahigh ticket price for a somewhat "private show" for the local fat cat wine lover's. All I know is, I have to pee like a racehorse. Where the hell is the bathroom? I am fixing my tie and adjusting my hat (not my regular pimp hat, too windy, but a skull cap that says "WEED California" on it. I frantically knock on a door to one of the many trailors and who do i interrupt? You guessed it. The door swings open and stairing back at me, complete with the WEED hat and sideways tie, is Robert Plant, Alison Krauss and T-Bone Burnett. "Can't help ya, mate" Plant says. I feel like an idiot, yes. With no soundchecj, we take the stage and somehow it all goes over flawlessly. Another great set of sexy blues is delivered. Sharon's face is glowing from the orange and red lights, her blonde strands are like shoelaces blowing in the wind just outside her beret. "Sorry we are a little late but somebody stole our GPS" i tell the crowd, They laugh and cheer. They think I am kidding. I wish I was.

That night as I drift off to sleep, a special on CNBC comes on the hotel room TV. "Tonight we look at the massage parlor scam in San Francisco and the sex slave trade that is behind the scenes".

True story.

The Right To Give Your Newborn A Sex-Change

I believe the time for sex changes is before the damage is done. Why go through the horror of living life as the wrong sex when you can nip it in the bud, so to speak.

How many disapointed parents are out there saying "well we wanted a boy but we are blessed with our baby girl regardless"? Bullishit! You wanted a boy and a boy it will be! 2 months old, 6 months...2 weeks...does't matter. The kid's crying anyway, let's get this party started!

Yes, I believe in getting what you want, when you want it. With a chop chop here and a tuck tuck there noone needs to know nothing, and you and your newborn will be just as g-d...er....man made you!

Like the Obama campaign says, the time for change is now, before your infant knows what it is.

An Up and Comer Asked Me For Music Career Advice...I Thought I'd Reprint It So I Don't Forget My Own Advice

Sing the truth. 

Sing from your heart. 

Don't follow any trend or try to sound like anyone else. 

Be honest with yourself. 

Be kind. 

Don't try to write a hit, just write because you love to. 

Sing on key, always...every note if possible. 

Make music out of love, nor for money. 

People can always tell when you're doing it for money. 

People can always tell when you're doing it for money. Always. 

Be yourself, there's only one of you. 

Everything will fall into place if you follow these simple truths.

Gnat's Landing

The beautiful landscape as seen through a grimey windshield adorned with splattered bugs....yes, it's Gnat's Landing!

Why don't people have toilet paper coming in to the house the way we have tap water?
You know, it's always there should we need it. Like a service. The heating bill, the water bill...the toilet paper bill...

Join me here at Ready Or Scot for weekly, daily, monthly and sometimes minutely writings.