First Blog of 2010

Happy New Year!  Indeed. 

SO: do I need to keep a blog separate from the one on my website?  I love blogging, and naturally I want to reach as many readers as possible.  What do y’all think?  

Lemme know.

Be well

JM

Reno w/APLP, 8-14 & 8-15

Wednesday morning, just getting it together to blog about the double-shot of Alan Parsons Live Project in Reno last weekend.

 

It was exhilarating, both in its simplicity and complexity.  Simple because we’ve played at John Ascuaga’s Nugget almost every year since 2003; 2 consecutive nites in the same venue, which is housed in the same structure as the hotel, and the airport pickups and drop-offs are usually in a limo, and there’s a great jacuzzi by the pool, and you get your meals comped and the staff is great so no problem there.  Complex because half the band was missing!  

 

That’s right: with Godfrey, Manny and Steve previously engaged on the HippieFest all summer and unable to get out for the pair of Reno dates, some subs were called in.  Alastair “418″ Greene had already performed guitar duties with us in LA, San Diego and Vegas last week, so no worries there.  Then Mr. Parsons made two more calls: one to keyboardist Tom Brooks, who learned an impossible load of keyboard stuff in record time, and one to legendary drummer Chester Thompson.  

 

Yes, THAT Chester Thompson.  Zappa, Weather Report, Genesis, drum duets with Phil Collins, Chester Thompson.    

 

Anyway.  One four-hour rehearsal/soundcheck later, we were ready to hit it and quit it.  Any loose musical ends were unnoticed by the audience, who gave us a tremendous response.  Perhaps it was the slight edge that any band gets when there are several new players who are still getting comfortable with the material; in any case, we raised the Goblet Of Rock on high for two consecutive nites, and I GOT TO PLAY WITH CHESTER THOMPSON!  (There, I finally said it.  Very cool.) 

 

Another discovery this weekend?  The merch table; it’s the new after-party!  Hanging out at the merch table, fresh off the stage with the Glow of Rock still on me, I sold more CD’s than ever before.  Many thanx to all of you in Reno who purchased “Senza,” and special thanx to Alastair “418″ Greene for reminding me how to truly work it. 

 

Home until September, busying with some local action.  Keep on checking in for new stuff all the time!

 

Be well

JM

 

 

At it again!

Traveling to Reno for a weekend hit with the Alan Parsons Live Project.  Got home from the West Coast Triple Play late Sunday, did some laundry and got in quality time with Franchy & Jill, and now I’m back out thru Sunday again.  iPod is loaded with fresh ELO, up-to-the-minute photos of Franchy are on the Mac.  Life is grand.

 

Watched “Real Estate Intervention” on HGTV last nite.  Listening to the score, I heard a string pattern and drum beat that sounded familiar; realized that they were both loops that come built-in with GarageBand on the Mac.  So it’s now THAT EASY to score a TV show?  

 

We’ve come a long way, haven’t we!  Quincy Jones spent the better part of the 60′s and 70′s busting his ass writing and arranging scores for Ironside, Roots, The Pawnbroker, etc., and basically worked himself almost to death doing it.  Now we open up a pre-installed computer app, click and drag a little, and presto!  Instant Cash.  Interesting. 

 

Meanwhile, I’m looking around for an online music service that allows me to upload,  and then sell, one song at a time.  I record one song at a time, and I no longer want to wait until I’ve got ten of them finished and mastered and printed on shiny discs with artwork to bring them to market.  Any ideas?  Send us your thoughts to jm (at) johnmontagna (dot) com.  

 

Be well

JM

 

 

Home 4 a minute

Home late Sunday nite/Monday morning. LA, San Diego and Vegas was some fun. Enjoying three full days of blessed down time, before heading out again on Thursday for a weekend hit in Reno. Until then it’s Trader Joe’s, Yo Gabba Gabba and my own bed. Life is grand!

Video and photos being edited as we speak, stay tuned.

Be well

JM

Leaving Las Vegas

I can see it.  Tomorrow morning.  Up with the sun, stretch, wash face.  Put on clothes that have already been laid out, grab bass and bags that were packed last nite.  Open door, scan empty room one last time.  Got everything!

Boogie down the hall, push elevator button and wait.  Take out iPod, scroll thru photos of Francesca.  Ding!  Ride elevator to the ground floor.  Bolt thru through the casino, dragging suitcase and dodging cigarette smoke, oxygen tanks, and button-down short-sleeved shirts with drawings of flames on them, until reaching the gigantic double glass doors.  

Get to front desk.  ”Checking out of room #@% please.”  I didn’t eat one morsel of food in this establishment, and the bottle of water in my hand came from backstage last nite, so there are NO INCIDENTAL CHARGES and I am free to go without signing anything or spending any dollars.

Drop off suitcase and bass with bell desk.  Push gigantic double glass doors open, step outside and savor the hush of no casino noise.  A few strides to the corner, run across dangerously wide 4-lane street to Starbucks.  Use remainder of yesterday’s per diem to purchase latte and muffin.  (Breakfast buffet?  I don’t think so.)  Stand in the ‘bucks for an extra second and imagine that it’s the one on the corner of Court Street and Wyckoff Street in Brooklyn.  

Bust out of the ‘bucks, back across dangerously wide 4-lane street back to casinohotel.  Get suitcase and bass from bell desk, slip bellman a few dollars, and park my carcass on a bench outside with my Starbucks until airport courtesy van arrives.  When up he rolls, load bags and bass into the trunk, and settle into the bench seat with ELO on the iPod asking the sweet talking woman to slow down.  I’m closer to home already. 

Maneuver through airport situation smoothly, make it to the gate with minimum hassle, and board the aircraft.  Reach cruising altitude, put iPod back on and Freddie asks me to find him somebody to love.  Land at LAX, change planes.  Board second aircraft, and John tells me that he wants Yoko so bad it’s driving him mad.  That’s when I drift off to sleep, only waking up as we begin our descent into New York’s John F. Kennedy airport.  

De-plane, get my bags off the carousel, hop in the taxi and jam thru the nite down the Belt Parkway, roll up to the pad.  Up the elevator, tiptoe thru the door, leave bass and bags to be unpacked in the morning.  Slide into bedroom, squeeze into bed next to both of my babies.  Home.  

I can see it.  

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