Dinner with a Divorcée (Moto-i 5.8.13)

(blank 2) (Moto-i 5.8.13)

Long, Long, Long

Poorly recorded last night at the Moto-i open mic, which I live down the street from. Yes, I live in Uptown. I am supercool.

A common prayer for the overattached (Moto-i 23.4.13)

(Starts with some banter about being blocked on facebook...blargh. Skip to about one minute to hear the tune) Poorly recorded at the Moto-i open mic, which I was pretty drunk for. The bartender is a real swell guy who knows the meaning of the words "whiskey" and "neat." Brand new tune written in the last week. It is quiet and might need work but who knows?

Happy Anniversary (Moto-i 23.4.13)

words came for this one during a bad impression of Jeff Tweedy that happened last week. performed at the very friendly Moto-i open mic Tuesday.

(blank) (Moto-i 7.5.13)

The kid grew up in a very quiet, very white suburb of Minneapolis, a situation which he didn't much enjoy. He escaped to the east coast to attend A Very Expensive New York Private School, which was an okay experience but apparently he didn't make any friends there.

No matter. Because eventually he was found by the father, and he always had the spiritual support of Big Dave the Rag Man. But still, the kid was in a bad way, lost, down & out in a gutter somewhere in Yonkers when the father flew down on a hawk, riding the soundwaves of "Caroline, No", "Sunny Afternoon", "She's a Jar", "Heretics", "Strawberry Letter 23", "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings", and saying words that James Baldwin, Henry Miller, Michael Eric Dyson, and probably Don DeLillo would say, which went a little something like this:

“Get up off your ass, there’s work still to be done and no one likes a quitter.” Or something.

That shook the kid right to his bones. So, he got up and the crowd cheered. He dusted himself and his guitar case off, and the crowd responded positively once more. He pounded the rest of his Steel Reserve, too, to which many in the crowd turned away disapprovingly but you can’t argue that it’s not a good deal for what you get. He lit a new spliff, and he hit the road, headed for LA. The crowd just shrugged at that.

Well, sorry to say, wizard people, despite his loose lips and his willingness to take chances, the kid didn’t  quite make it to the coast. But he did get a new name.

Some think it was just something silly he came up with to rub his roommate and confidant the Rag Man the wrong way. Others think it was from his interpretation of the god fearing southerners, who used to say, in that very special drawl, "lard lard, that brother can't drive.” Because he crash landed his sedan in Little Rock and for some reason hasn't found the desire to leave yet.

So there he stays, spending his days reading and petting his cat, plotting his revenge from the grips of obscurity. And Brother Lar only has one question. Can you help him?

Spencer English and Sara English both did. Spencer with his deft knowledge of Pro Tools and Sara with her patience and her wit. Molly Rector did, by keeping poor Brother Lar grounded despite his spiritual aspirations and lofty sense of self. Lauren did, because that’s what sisters do. But can you? Because he needs you to listen, if even just for a moment, and tell your friends that he’s out there, a musical evangelist looking for a home.