Category — Podcast

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (19.7MB)

Since our recent relocation, Kira and I have been filling our space with things. We’ve opened boxes, that had been sealed for years, to revile in our pasts and have scoured the internets for giveaways that may help us fill the empty space. We’ve visited junk stores and high-end retailers. I’ve spent most of the time being a grump about overpriced overseas plastic products and Kira has made sure to allow me my requisite geocaching interludes as we have crisscrossed the city.

Among all the options for buying ‘new’ things, we’ve come to find that there is one form of used purchasing that seems to sit well with us. The estate sale. It’s a no-pressure, make me an offer, cultural time machine of an experience. The products are immaculate, meaningful, and interesting. We’ve acquired bits and pieces of our home that were once a beloved part of someone else’s home, not just the discarded junk from the dorm. Our can opener, a runner, a tin cup that is the kid-brother to my beloved camping cup (photo), American Flag pins, and the $5 Braun MP80.

Now normally I wouldn’t be too eager to pick up just any MP80. From my days of coming home for lunch during the summer, after hours of waterpolo practice, and flicking on the tube to get my 45 minutes of rest in, I’ve been a devoted follower of the Jack Lalane. His enthusiasm, energy, and the practicality of the machine really sold me. I’ve never owned one, nor even used one, but the daily info-mercial told me it was a good decision and I’ve stuck to that advice. That is until my good-buddy ChadlyD gave me some advice. ChadlyD Everybody! Mr. ChadlyD didn’t go with the Jack Lalane. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked him about his decision making skills, but he maintains that the Jack Lalane simply doesn’t hold a candle and I needed to get out there and explore the  world for what it is, and not what television wants me to think it is. Humbled, I had to agree.

So here I am, in a home that is on the edge of the Pacific ocean, filled with the debris of change and the ensuing sale and I’m looking for a can opener and maybe a bread knife, because we don’t have those yet, and what do I find? A supercharged MP80, clean and ready to go. A small green sticker was affixed to the device that read, ‘juicer $5.’ Twenty minutes later I had two American Flag pins and a new power tool and I think the video tells the rest.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (4.2MB)

In 2009 my good friend, 蛋糕, was kind enough to collaborate on an exciting and difficult a cappella project. With the meager tools we had at the time and our genetically limited vocal range, we threw all we had at this temperamental art project.  Like many of our ideas at the time, the song began to develop around our foreign disposition within the big red goose. By the time we had hammered out a general tune and enough lyrics to sustain our creative thirst we’d stepped right into the competitive language learning market and, by my scale, came out better than expected. So go ahead and plug this one-take a cappella-draft in between your NoRain and Free Fallin’ road trip exercises and you may find yourself learning a little language and culture.

Enjoy!

Original song and lyrics are filed under it’s original published date: 2009-07-06 

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (0.0KB)

This was a very hot day.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (2.2MB)

“Happy Birthday”

Out of tune, un-practiced, well appreciated.

YeeHaw!

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (333.5MB)

June 1st I debuted my banjo talents in front of the Stanford Graduate School of Business (estimates of 500+ people) in a standing room only environment. My frist run at a public performance. I have to say I can do a lot of things in public without batting an eye, but this Really pushed my limit.. phew.

To begin, turn it back one week to May 25th when I received an email. It asked for a banjo player to do a song. Not much else. So I accepted and learned what terms I’d accepted. I would be playing a recent pop song featuring a banjo playing at about a million miles an hour with three other people on a stage for .. some people. Oh, and by the way, “we play in one week.”  More so, we didn’t have the sheet music, so figure that out too.

Now I’m not too clever when it comes to writing music, but after some YouTube lessons and I exercising my ears about 40-dozen times, I did my best to work-up a short score for my 5-string duties. After three days, I had the TAB down and could begin practice. In celebration of my achievements, I went on vacation for the memorial day weekend.

Returning Tuesday, with one day left, I set my fingerst to work, in the dark practice of a solo musician playing to an invisible band, as they exercised sixty miles away. Those living within earshot became quite tired of this new annoyance in their life.

Wednesday morning, with a little more than 12-hours to go, I drove to Palo Alto and worked in about forty-five minutes of band time before they had to return to their coursework and I to my leisure. It was the only rehearsal we would have before playing nearly ten and a half hours later at 9:20 PM. With the others off to class I reflected on my whirlwind of a week and the serene calm I must understand in order to perform. I came out of my trance and walked onto the stage, presenting the best we could do for a sloppy drunk crowd. Aside from a few kinks and the stiffness of a frist performance, the show turned out just ‘fine.’ (fortunately, my mic was turned down and mistakes went without much notice – I assume.)

Now I’ve got the performance bug.. hahaha.. Enjoy the show.