Monthly Archives: January 2009

Even More Music

Here is another self-penned Heck track called Meeting with Bea “Elsa” Bubb, about just that. It’s your typical evil ska Klezmer psychedelic stomp track, so popular with “the kids” these days. Recorded live in my living room!

meeting-with-bea-_elsa_-bubb

Thursday at Meadow Park with Dale

Well, I just got back from speaking to the sixth graders of Meadow Park Middle School in Beaverton, Oregon. I have to say, it’s been a while since I’ve encountered such an attentive, enthusiastic, and respectful bunch! I spoke at their morning assembly, playing the Heck song on my trusty, rusty guitar, inflicting my feeble PowerPoint skillz upon them, reading a chapter, then ending with a new creative writing exercise I may incorporate into “my act.” I picked five brave students to join me on stage and write a couple of sentences on notecards I had prepared. The notecards began and ended with sentences I had written, in this case, detailing the horrors of a rabid monkey outbreak at their school. The ending sentence of one card was the beginning of the next, so that—when finished—we had all created a story! After going through a box of my nifty new Heck cards and singing some autographs, I was interviewed by Meadow Park’s film and video club. Perhaps, if I’m not too embarrassed at the sight of myself first thing in the morning embarking upon a series of unfortunate tangents, I may post the video. Again, thanks to the students, distinguished faculty, and not-so distinguished faculty that made this appearance possible!

Here is the story we wrote at Meadow Park:

“Someone capture those monkeys before they sling pop everywhere!” shrieked Mrs. Hattendorf as she ran down the hall. As the monkeys ran down the hall they were making a titanic size ball of poop. Then Mr. Whitten came into view playing “We Will Rock You” on the flute to stop the monkeys. But then he was engulfed in the titanic size ball of poop.

But no one had seen Mr. Whitten for hours. No one.

No one cared, but hey thought he went to Heck. And they thought he turned crazy. The Devil made Mr. Cookson his assistant.

The mad gleam in Mr. Cookson’s eyes ignited the fear of the students trapped in the janitor’s closet. Ripping us out of the closet to Ms. Williams. Then Ms. Williams tied us to a chair and force-fed us.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten stewed monkey meat!” Ms. Williams said, licking her lips.

Ms. Williams jumped off the walls and said that she loved the stew. Then Ms. Williams walked down the hall with her clacking high heels, just as Mr. Doyle had corralled all of the rabid monkeys into Ms. Valentine’s office. But was it a case of too little, too late?

Then the monkeys ran rampaging out of the office, after breaking up the office into smashed pieces.

“Where would these monkeys go when they die, anyway?” asked Mrs. Hattendorf to no one in particular, before shrieking “Someone capture those monkeys before they sling poop everywhere!” as she ran down the hall.

More Music

OK, I guess when I mentioned posting music in the weeks to come, I really meant in the minutes to come. Like, now. So here is another song that I like to call Damian’s Song (No No No). It’s a bad song about a bad kid whose life turned out badly. It’s also a bad song by a bad guitarist whose solo turned out badly. Maybe I mean bad in the way that used to mean good (but I probably don’t).
damians-song-no-no-no

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music

…which is a terrifying thought. It begs the question “what music would endow land mass with unnatural life?” Is this even morally sound? Not the sound of music, per se, but the ability to animate rocks and dirt? It’s just creepy. Speaking of which, here is one of a series of Heck-based musical numbers I will be posting in the weeks to come. This first song is a little ditty called Christmas at Grizzy Mall which, to the best of my knowledge, is about Christmas at Grizzly Mall. Enjoy, or at least grudgingly tolerate.

grizzly-mall