I’d like to propose a hypothesis:

We spend our lives gradually becoming less cool, while trying harder to be more cool, until finally one day we give up trying to be cool altogether and just start living.

EXHIBIT A: I bought a kimono today.

This is either a flagrant attempt to hold on to some semblance of semi-ironic, next-level cool, or it is me throwing up the flag of surrender; finally at peace with the fact that I am not cool anymore, and maybe I never was—or at least I haven’t been since like age 12.

All I know is that I was sitting in my apartment, drinking some coffee, reading a book, wearing some dumb-ole sweatpants when it dawned on me: this activity would be way more amazing in a kimono.

So I hopped on Etsy and bought a men’s knee-length, silk, floral kimono which will arrive in approximately 7-10 days.

I can’t fully determine whether this is simply an attempt to attain peak comfort, or some secret attempt to harness the aforementioned ironic-cool. What I can tell you is that definitely not cool. I am at least self-aware enough to admit this.

It may have been actually cool to have a kimono back when I was around eight years old or so (the same age when things like ninja throwing-stars were cool), but it is certifiably not cool to have a kimono as a 32 year old bachelor who lives alone.

It might in fact be a sign that things are about to get a whole lot weirder for your pal Lucas. A kimono purchase feels like the beginning of a real slippery slope doesn’t it?

Let’s face it, it also might be more than a wee bit problematic in terms of cultural appropriation for me, a blatantly white man, to be purchasing a piece of traditional Japanese clothing. However, in my defense, I will say that I definitely do not plan on going out in public wearing my kimono—in this is a behind closed doors kind of activity.

By the way, I am openly willing to have a friendly, open-minded debate with anyone about whether or not it is ok for me to wear a kimono in my apartment. I am sincerely not sure where my opinion falls on the topic. But be warned—I will be debating you while wearing my kimono. And if you win, I will disrobe. So it is a bit of a lose-lose situation for everyone honestly.

Anyway, I digress. My point is that whatever my kimono purchase is—an attempt at comfort, simple retail therapy, a slippery slope, or cultural appropriation—one thing is sure: it is not cool.

EXHIBIT B: I’ve been working on an album for five years.

Five years! Five years!!

I’ve been stuck in a limbo that should be familiar to anyone who’s ever attempted to create some kind of art for the public eye (or ear). Namely, that terrible, stagnant battle between overconfidence and insecurity.

At its most extreme it is that dual sense of 1. “I am secretly an artistic genius and everyone will acknowledge this as soon as I release my art,” and 2. “This is not good enough and people are going to think it sucks or disregard it entirely.”

And what the heck does any of this have to do with being cool? Well it all reeks of an inflated-ego that is trying too hard. And that my friend, is the complete opposite of cool.

What is encouraging, is that I am finally getting around to releasing these songs this year, insecurity and overconfidence be damned. It is time to get my little song babies out into the world of other people’s ears and brains and see how they might grow, flourish, and falter.

I have not decided on the release date just yet, but mark my words it will happen this year. Go ahead and consider this vulnerable little ditty of mine a down payment:

It’s Ok to Miss Your Dog

Again, at age 32, I think I find myself right at the point of still trying to hard to be cool, yet also ready to stop trying. Both my kimono purchase and my album release are vivid examples of both. Both are both.

EXHIBIT C: This picture of my niece Emily.

If you are reading this, you will never be as cool as Emily is in this picture. And it is precisely because, by her very nature, she is not trying.

Sure she looks cool with her sunglasses and stripes on, but she doesn’t care to be. She’s wearing those sunglasses because the sun is in her eyes. She’s wearing those stripes because they contain an in-swimsuit floatation system and she cannot swim! Doesn’t care to learn either. Also, look at that little shovel full of sand. She’s here to dig, and you literally cannot stop her.

In conclusion, all of us can posture and try a million different ways of making ourselves look cool. You can buy a kimono, release an album, or even ride a penis-shaped rocket to space while wearing a cowboy hat. But you will never be as cool as a two year old with sunglasses on. So don’t even try.

So Thursday evening I was all set to play a show with my band Kangaroo when I learned that the venue double booked the stage that night. They had recently moved their weekly drag show from Friday to Thursday and somehow that fact didn’t reach the ears of the guy who booked us to play. And apparently the drag show has a little more clout than four unknown Brooklyn rock bands because they got the spot. I wish I could say that this is the first time one of my bands got bumped for a drag show… but its not.

The good news is this gave me more time to work on my daily songs. Hope you enjoy them!

February 5 — Fine Wigs

February 6 — Space Peyote pt. 1

February 7 — Space Peyote pt. 2

February 8 — Postcard Shopping in Barcelona

February 9 — It Will Probably Be OK

February 10 — The Grand Sand Temple


dennis-rodman-dive

So a couple of months ago I was waiting on the C train listening to an old man play what sounded to me like Bach on his electric piano. Despite his lowly stage and modest pay, he was playing beautifully and so I looked around to see if any of the other awaiting subway riders were noticing his performance. To my delight I looked up and saw one young woman listening with rapt attention. After dropping a couple of dollars in his keyboard case, I boarded the train and ended up standing right next to that woman. So I did what few New Yorkers ever do, and I struck up a conversation with a stranger on the train. I asked her if she was a musician, and she said no but that music was a big part of her life and that she was actually involved in film (acting, writing, directing, producing, etc…). We chatted about a short film she was producing and eventually I told her that if she ever needed anyone to score her films, that she should call me. I gave her my card, bid her adieu, and got off at my stop, satisfied with the exchange, but not exactly expecting anything to come from it.

Well, I must have made a good impression (either that or she couldn’t resist the low, low price I promised her), because a few weeks later, she called me about scoring the short film that she was producing. Sidenote: kids, it turns out you should definitely talk to strangers, because they’ll end up hiring you to score their films. So for her privacy and my own entertainment I’m going use a completely made up name and call this producer Lilliandra (I estimate there’s an 85 percent chance Lilliandra is going to read this blog, so I hope you enjoy your made up name, Lilliandra). Lilliandra was working alongside the writer/director/star of the film— let’s call her Nira— to put the finishing touches on the work. The film is a comedy with a surprising dramatic turn set at a low-key house party in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Both Nira and Lilliandra admitted that there are some editing issues, and some suspect acting on the part of one of Nira’s costars, yet overall I found the film charming, funny, and heartfelt, and Nira shines as a magnetic personality onscreen (off-screen as well in fact). I was happy to be a part of the project, and after some direction from Nira and Lilliandra, I began writing and recording the music for the film. After a week of hard work I had something I was excited to show them, so we set up a meeting at Nira’s Greenpoint apartment.

Yet after showing them my work, I could already see the unfortunate truth on their faces: the music was not right. In a nutshell, the music stepped on the humorous parts and over-dramatized the dramatic parts. Despite the fact that Nira and Lilliandra let me know this very delicately, I’m ashamed to admit that internally I felt very defensive. I thought “didn’t they know how much work I had done… and this music is really good…and I’m giving them a low, low price so they should be happy with what I gave them… etc.” Yet all of this was simply the ego-trip of a rookie film composer faced for the first time with some real life critique of his work. If I am going to continue in this business (which I certainly hope to), I need to grow thicker skin and be perpetually open to direction, critique, and even outright rejection. Lilliandra and Nira were right after all— I had stepped on the jokes, and over-dramatized the drama.

Ultimately, however, I was guilty of something more egregious than simply writing bad music. I had essentially used this film as a forum to show off my abilities as a composer, rather than simply trying to help tell the story. The music was in fact “good” in the sense that it was well crafted and sounded nice, but it was the wrong music for this film. Nira and Lilliandra were going for something more nuanced than what I had presented. My music was outshining the film at the expense of the story.

Likely most of us at one point or other have been guilty of bolstering ourselves at the expense of the larger community or project that we are a part of. In the least we’ve all seen it in the losing basketball team with a selfish “all-star” taking all the shots (I’m looking at you 2015 Kobe Bryant), or the band with lazy songwriting that simply serves as a forum for the lead guitarist to shred painfully long solos (I’m looking at you jam-band scene). Yet the best and longest lasting actors, musicians, athletes or workers in any field are not those who do everything to make themselves look better, but those who realize that they are a part of a bigger picture and simply play their part very well (I’m looking at and applauding you Dustin Hoffman, Dennis Rodman, Steven Drozd, and everyone of their ilk).

Last night I met again with Lilliandra and Nira. I had made many adjustments according to the direction they gave me, and as a result the film’s story and personality was much more clear than it had been in the previous incarnation. We had a pleasant and productive session of simply fine-tuning the musical elements, rather than having to completely re-work them. The night was fun and fruitful because we were all on the same page, telling the same story, and each playing our part.