Brown. Everything has to be brown. Definitely. Black speakers won't do. If you get black speakers, it's all you'll pay attention to. You'll be miserable. Dude, I'm right there with you, brown all the way. Brown laminate and if it's a little greasy and chipped, all the better. Hang on, what's this... (I click furiously on the listing title, too-eagerly watching the little rainbow-spinny thing next to my cursor, my credit card vibrating in my wallet.) Bose 201 Series 3's...dude check these out... Interesting...what's that thing on the top? Hold it I'm looking. Oh shit check it out - you turn that thing and it moves this little flap in front of the tweeter so you can like, aim the sound or something, No shit? That's crazy. They look good though. How big are they? You don't want something tiny. Small is fine. Tiny is not fine. Nah...

I had a fun time this past Friday playing with my friends in Axemunkee - I'm hoping to play a lot of bass this year, and the opportunity to sub for my buddy Chris was irresistible. Especially since the gig was downstairs at the Cantab Lounge, a legendary Cambridge dive with ambiance to spare. They've dubbed the room "Club Bohemia," and it's appropriate. The management is lucky there are no windows in the basement, because I'm sure in the harsh light of day the place looks every inch the grubby hole that it is. But this place works. It's got vibe, man! They have these little round tables where all too often I've found a lot of empty floor space. It's really kind of inviting, as if to say "Hey you, here's a stiff chair and a sticky table on which...

The year has become an increasingly difficult unit of measurement for me to rely on. Not only has my concept of time and the pace at which it consumes (think velociraptor) changed as I've aged, I've also embraced my recent, awkward tendency toward nostalgia that has me looking ever backward, searching for comfort and meaning in the music, images, and heroes of my past. I don't want to relive those times -  honestly, you couldn't pay me enough - it comes down to the lens through which I'm viewing these these early influences. My adult mind has locked onto the afterimage of my high school treasures. Everything glows with new depth and a sort of classic sheen that makes it all seem visceral and relevant again. While this ongoing retro-dive has a way of obscuring the here and now, I'm still...

My family chose to keep it simple this year - no overwhelming trips to the mall, no electronic gadgetry, no outlandish excesses (unless you count the food, that's one excess we'll allow). Lucky me, I didn't even need to share my Amazon WishList or drop hints. A few of my favorite things found their way under my tree anyway. After thoroughly enjoying some Hesse on my iPhone, I have to admit I'm looking forward to continuing my exploration with a proper printed medium. The Glass Bead Game is something I've been meaning to read for about 15 years, and this paperback copy of Narcissus and Goldmund is a bonus. Generally speaking I prefer robots, vampires, and your garden variety supernatural yarns to philosophy and existentialism. But I think this will be good for me, and besides Stephen King won't have anything...

This month, alongside the requisite Dr. Seuss and pop-up books I read to my daughter every night, I managed to squeeze in a couple of novels. One of them, The Road by Cormac McCarthy seemed to resonate with one of my studio projects.

The book is DARK. Seriously dark. A post-apocalyptic nightmare of a book that will haunt you for days after you’ve finished grinding through McCormac’s staccato, heart wrenching delivery. This tale of a nameless father and son, wandering, surviving in a burned-out world has got me on the hook to read more from the man who gave us No Country for Old Men.

Lacking a name for this Jeff Beck-inspired guitar instrumental, I chose to name it after the book. As with anything I post here, I welcome discussion and feedback.

Listen to “The Road”