((( Telecasting in Stereo )))

As long as I’m here, I might as well post this for the pure of heart, the strong of will, and the epitome of fans…

With the Fender Blues Jr. on the left and the new Marshall MG50FX on the right, I ran the Telecaster through the Blues Overdrive into the Phaser Tremolo and finally out of the Boss Space Echo, resulting in some weirdness that was a lot of fun to play and sounded H U G E. I give it to you because—as you undoubtedly know by now—I have no shame.




So just ignore 'em

To paraphrase Sun Tzu: Know your audience.

The Redneck Bar with its Random Judges is not my audience. It’s pretty obvious. So I thought I’d play another set, this time using one of the gracious Hosts’ names, sorta. They kept me up there for six songs. The Random Judges didn’t even bother scoring me. It’s my last set at the Redneck Bar. Listen for the sheer Why Not of it.

Here’s the set list:

Torch (song from around ’94)
I Don’t Wanna Sleep (around 2005)
Please Come Home (around 1992)
Your Letter (around 1990)
I Want You to Want Me (around Rockford)
Five Days (around 2003)


Yes, I brought an iPad. Because, that’s why.


So long, Redneck Bar!

Maybe it doesn't matter

So I thought to myself as I was rehearsing: this is ridiculous. You’re the only one who has any skin in this game. The Random Judges don’t care what you play, even if you write a song called A Song for the Judge Who Gave Me a Six in Originality Last Week.

I was right. It doesn’t matter.

I played a short set. Here’s the setlist:

I’m Up
See the Light
Your Heart Breaks Apart
Move On
A Song for the Judge Who Gave Me a Six in Originality Last Week (probably not a good song to play at work. Unless you’re a hooker.)*

The score cards are below. I was pretty much finished with this rodeo anyway.


I suppose I cared at the time.


I dunno.


“Great original!”, yet a 7 for Originality. Brilliant. That song is for you, buddy. And your mom.

* I considered a Bleeped version of A Song for the Judge Who Gave Me a Six in Originality Last Week, but I thought it might just be as pointless an exercise as performing at the Redneck Bar, so cover your ears, all you unattended-by-adults out there.