I want to be upfront with you about the way I’ve felt lately, and I know that you feel the same way I do considering how close we are (both figuratively and physically). I need you to know that the decisions you make have a profound effect on my happiness and general comfort level—and I must say, your decisions lately have inevitably led to a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness on my part, hence this letter.

You see, it all started with your latest purchase: a pair of briefs… underwear, at the local designer clothing store. For years now, you have done right by me, taking great care in purchasing what I like: boxer briefs. Generally, and in my humble opinion, I think you look far more attractive in them; they are loose and casual, comfortable and dynamic in their flow and adhesiveness—I feel quite at home in them.

Now, I am all about self-exploration (I mean, come on, we’ve had our fair share of creative shenanigans together—you remember that time with the rubber bands?), and I certainly want you to try new things, or in this particular case, retry new old things that you used to do 20 to 25 years ago when you didn’t have a choice (Christmas was always socks and Fruit of the Loom briefs from mom and dad—hi mom and dad), but I digress.

Look, I was fine when you came home with the first pair of brand new designer briefs from the store a week or two ago, but then (as if to add insult to injury) just a few days ago, YOU-BOUGHT-TWO-MORE-PAIR! What on Earth were you thinking? I’m getting the sweats and chills just thinking about it—it’s like I’m stuck with this decision in much the same manner as I am your leg, and I don’t like it! It’s like my creativity and general comfort level suffocates, as the borders of your briefs draw closer and closer to me with every wash and dry cycle—those 100% cotton abominations of nature! YOU… should be ashamed! That wedgie you are feeling right now up your fault line is no fault of mine and you know it—think of the cocoa brown stains that could happen if you weren’t thorough! What would a lady friend think of that? Neither of us wants or needs another dry spell. Answer me!

[deep breath] I’m sorry…

I need to know: is it something I did or said? Look, I love you… and I want you to be happy. Talk to me; we can work this out. I just want everything (specifically, our underwear) to be more like how it used to be—when the things between us were fresh, more boxer-brief-like, and consensual.

Sincerely,

Your Testicles

Although described as a Greek slave, Aesop is attributed as the creator of many popular fables including, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” “The Goose That Laid The Golden Eggs,” “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” and more to the point of this blog, “The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes.”

Most biographical material found on the man is panned by experts as being mythical (with good reason)—furthermore, an overwhelming majority of historians also question whether he actually was the author of the fables that are attributed to his name. Considering that most fables were passed down by word of mouth and that a few of Aesop’s fables have been found in earlier works in writing dating back to Ancient Egypt, Ancient India, Assyria, Babylonia, and Sumer—I share their scrutiny. It’s fair to question whether Aesop even existed.

Whatever the case may be, I find fables fascinating because of their elegant moral and practical message summed in a concise story often using animal protagonists. The relevance of their message has managed to traverse thousands of years and many languages, and has even found its place in popular religious texts such as the Bible. For example, the Gospel of Matthew (7:15-16), Jesus said, “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them.”

Wise words… and if I may add, I worry about far more than just false prophets.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSJEbj2H1pA

THAT SHEEP AND THOSE SHEEP
Words and Music by Mike Vitale

a wolf in a meadow
came across a body
a lamb who had perished
wandering from its herd

the wolf had a notion
disguised is woolen shoddy
to infiltrate their ranks
with an appetite so naughty, singing

that sheep and those sheep will be all mine
sure enough a few followed behind
then the few became the whole herd
a flock of sheep that hung on every word

supper time
the shepherd went home
he left his herd alone

the wolf would conceal
his snarl and bloody grin
and preach of forgiveness
amongst his new brethren

the fruit of his words
a labor towards fruition
to feed his hungry urge
and shady disposition, singing

that sheep and those sheep will be all mine
sure enough a few followed behind
then the few became the whole herd
a flock of sheep that hung on every word

supper time
the shepherd went home
he left his herd alone

supper time
the shepherd went home
he left his herd alone

Having done a few college and university tours all by my lonesome, I can attest that having company makes all the difference.

In fact, just a few days into my first tour up the West Coast, I found myself deeply starved for human interaction: I remember having a quite an interesting and long winded conversation with some random dude on the street in Seattle who was trying desperately to sell me crack or a hand job only moments before… and if hindsight truly is 20/20, I think I should have been doing this a long time ago, and I don’t mean smoking crack, accepting hand jobs from strangers, or having longwinded conversations—I mean touring with dudes like Cory.

We had a lot of fun on our brief stint up the West Coast—

April 18th 2010 – Visalia House Concert
April 19th 2010 – 210 Café in Visalia, CA
April 23rd 2010 – Red Rocks Café in Mountain View, CA
April 25th 2010 – The Kilns in Bend, OR

but in all honesty, Cory beat me to the punch in terms of blogging about it in a very engaging fashion. So, if you find yourself yearning for a more comprehensive and chronological account of our exploits, I invite you to check out Cory’s blog (not to mention his music):

http://coryjoseph.com/?p=218

More blogs coming soon (I have a lot to write about), so stay tuned.

- Mike

So, like a complete idiot, I didn’t snap any shots from the stage when I played the first round of the Best Acoustic Showcase for the Orange County Music Awards, however, luckily, some people with professional camera equipment did.  So through the magic of my blog, I thought I would share a couple of shots from January 26th at The Gypsy Den in Santa Ana.  I can honestly say that every musician killed that night and it was an absolute pleasure sharing the stage with my friends Kurt Hunter, Brittany Bontempo, and Marc B. It was also awesome to make new friends The Vacuum Bell, I hate you just kidding, and some of the members of Canvas.

For more coverage of this year’s Orange County Music Awards, you can visit the following links:

http://www.ocmusicawards.com/
http://www.ocmusicawards.com/blog/

Thank you to everyone that came out—I think the OCMA’s estimated that there was around 225 people that came out to support that night!  I hope you all had fun.

Can you find yourself in some of the crowd shots? It’s like “Where’s Waldo,” but without the stripped shirt.

- Mike

So, I’m in the process of a booking a spring tour with Cory Joseph in late April/early May along the West Coast!  We are going to be playing college/university campuses, house shows, venues, etc..

We are always looking for help in terms of places to visit and play, so if you are interested in helping us out by setting up any of the above mentioned, nothing is out of the question.  Leave a comment below and we’ll get back to you right quick.

However, more importantly, we need a name to christen our tour.  Here are some suggestions that Cory and I both came up with this morning:

a.)  Two Guys, one cup [this seemed a bit gross to me].

b.)  The Italian Stallion Tour

c.)  Two guys, one Mike.

What do you think?  Leave a comment below with some suggestions and we’ll pick the best one and carry it with us as our shining moniker as we travel the West Coast like a bunch of gypsies.  Bring it on.  Ready… go!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_nm9X1q4PM

Latchkey Kid

Words and Music: Mike Vitale

Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room

Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says no TV if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again

I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid

I recently had the luxury of sitting down with myself to conduct an exclusive interview.  Having interviewed and/or spoken to several artists just like myself, I was definitely looking forward to the conversation regarding various topics.  However, while on a surface level, Mike seems like a wonderful person, in my own humble opinion, it became increasingly apparent as our interview unfolded that he doesn’t handle questions very well—you decide.

Mike:  So, what was the inspiration behind this interview with your self?

Mike:  Well Mike, I think a one-half serving of Playboy’s Playmate of the Month interviews, and God knows what else—I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.  It’s like the story behind the breasts, except—I don’t have breasts.

Mike:  Well, we should probably be moving forward to the first question.

What are your biggest turn-ons?

Mike:  Wait, isn’t this the second question?—never mind.  I guess you’re the expert.  Hmm, turn-ons… definitely when someone asks good questions—and a sense of humor: I like that.  You seem to lack one of these traits.

Mike:  What are your biggest turn-offs?

Mike:  Talking to myself: this conversation is over.  Just kidding.

Mike:  What’s the worst place for a guy to hit on you?

Mike:  Pretty much anywhere.  I had a guy hit on me at a bar a few months ago—I was shocked by his horrible singing voice, and he was taken aback by my preference for vagina.

Mike:  What’s the worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard?

Mike:  It’s less of a pickup line, and more of an effort to get my attention.  The same guy I mentioned previously was snapping pictures of me from the table next to ours trying desperately to make eye contact with me—I think he had his fair share of wine that night and was craving some Italian.

Mike:  What’s the best or most creative pick-up line you’ve ever heard?

Mike:  What is it with you and pickup lines?   I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone use a pickup line on me before—I’ve had someone buy me a drink.  Does that count?  My roommate asked me once if my parents were retarded—I said, no.  He then qualified this with “you’re pretty special.”

Mike:  What approach is most likely to work with you?

Mike:  Are we talking about boys or girls?  Honestly, where the hell are you getting these questions from?

Mike:  What signals do you give to a man when you want him to make the first move?

Mike:  You seriously took these questions straight out of a Playboy Playmate of the Month interview, didn’t you?  Did you consider reversing the gender to make this appropriate and applicable in terms of a standard interview?  What can someone possibly walk away with here?  They’ve learned nothing about me!  Can you ask me something meaningful?  I don’t know—perhaps something about my new website that just launched, or maybe my new E.P. that just went on sale today?  How about something about iTunes, and how they take 33% of an artist’s profits right off the top, and how it’s better to buy the music directly off an independent artist’s website.  Maybe something about buying my new CD online at http://www.mikevitalemusic.com.

[At this point, I seem noticeably flustered].

Mike:  I’ll ask the questions, thank you very much.  Have you ever been in a situation when two men competed for your attention at the same time? Who won, and why?

Mike:  This is ridiculous—I’m done [removing microphone from collar and throwing it on my chair as I walk away].

Latchkey Kid
Words and Music:  Mike Vitale

Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room

Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says, “no TV” if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again

I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid

SELF:   “I bet other people don’t visit Capitol Records that often either.”

So from this minor leap in logic, I took the next big jump in assuming that you care and decided to write a blog about it.

Crack of Knuckles.

So, first thing is first: how about some photos?  This is the sink from the Capitol Records Mastering Department bathroom:

Now, personally, I feel that this sink says volumes about their mastering work—however, these two points are sufficient:

1. It fits one small infant—not that I’ve tried: more of an observation and less of a truth—I didn’t have a baby handy.
2. While music may or may not be born in this department, like this bathroom sink, they do a fantastic job of making music clean and presentable.

If putting out a record is liking birthing a baby, then mastering might be like a gentle wipe with a moist cloth on that infant afterwards: Lord knows I struggle to get my music to smell and look good, especially after I’ve been pushing it through my proverbial creative uterus for a long time—at least it feels that way.

With that being said, I am tickled to death with how much life Kevin Bartley brought to the album and I can’t wait for you to hear it.

This is Kevin—he’s the dude that mastered the disc and an all around nice guy:

Unrelated to Kevin, I was noticing on the way to the bathroom (as their hallways adorned these trophies) that countless other artists with mullets have had their albums mastered here.  Here are a few:

You know, to quote Richard Marx:  “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be right here waiting for you”— and certainly, here he is.

I’m debating growing my hair out in a similar fashion to follow suit—it seems like the thing to do.  Granted, not all of their artists have mullets, so it’s not necessary:  I was just thinking in terms of my business to party ratio and where those two ideas meet on my head.  For example:

He’s all party and no business (I’m talking hair, not music… George Harrison is amazing), and he mastered here also—I’ll get back to you on the whole mullet thing.

In terms of being wowed, this was one of my favorite albums growing up!  Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd changed my life  I feel honored to have the same mastering team working on my music:

In the meanwhile, it’s nice to be on the inside for once and I’m glad that you could join me:

See you back on the other side.

- Mike

PS

I’m thinking CD release party real soon, with a band.

PSPS

If you like these musings about my life, I added a function at the top right hand corner of this wordpress blog where you can Subscribe to them by adding your email address!  I would like that—feel free if you desire.  It’s wonderful having an audience.

Step 1:  Keep your mouth shut.

Step 2:  Keep it shut.

Step 3:  Wow, that was tempting, maybe I should speak up… no I’m resolute.

Step 4:  Don’t make eye contact.

Step 5:  Was that a camera flash?

Step 6:  Woops, I looked.

Step 7:  Wait, did he just wink at me?

Let me explain.

It all started off as an innocent evening of music going.  I was out to watch two of my many favorite local talents, Yeah, Brother, and Danny Maika.  At the conclusion of Yeah, Brother’s set at McClain’s Coffeehouse, I rendezvoused with two friends of mine, Max (who plays Banjo in the group Yeah, Brother) and his lovely girlfriend, Taryn, for an evening of minimalist debauchery at another local haunt of mine, The Pint House in downtown Fullerton a few blocks away.

Now, Taryn, Max, and I arrived just in time to catch Danny’s set.  Having my heart set on getting a little heady, I ordered a few pints of Guinness, and if I were to measure my progress in getting pissed by glasses consumed, I was somewhere around 3 or 4 before my interesting predicament occurred.  It all started with a note:

“So, whatcha drinkin’?”

The note was passed along to me from a young lady I am an acquaintance of, sitting at the table next to us.  Now, for the record, Brittany was not the author of the note; she was just the messenger.  In fact, the penman was a dude next to her whom I had made eye contact with briefly and gave a friendly smile (mistake #1 for those of you who may be keeping count).

Now, that evening, I was running under the assumption that everyone at the neighboring table are friends of one another.  Since I knew a couple of people in their group, and I was bouncing back and forth talking with various individuals seated there, I didn’t think much on the note I received, and cordially replied verbally to the written inquiry by saying to the gentleman out loud, “Guinness” (mistake #2).  I resumed my conversation with Taryn and Max, enjoyed listening to Danny Maika, and went on with my evening as planned.

As fate would have it, when our waitress magically appears at the table again with another round of drinks for Max and Taryn, she also happens to have a pint of Guinness that I didn’t order.  I was perplexed and pointed out that I didn’t order this drink, to which she replies, “Yes, I know.  He ordered it for you,” pointing to the author of the note; he waves.  Decision time:

a.)   Do I accept the beer from the stranger at the table next to me?

b.)  Do I refuse the beer?

I’m not one for being rude or un-cordial, so I accepted the beer and enjoyed it (mistake #3).  By doing so, perhaps I implied any number of things to the gentleman that bought me the beer:

1.    My cordial smile and head nod when we made eye contact earlier in the evening meant something more than “hello.”

2.    Like the Skittles ads, I taste the rainbow.

Unfortunately for him (and awkwardly for me), neither of these are true, however, at this point, it was too late.  I spent roughly the next 45 minutes avoiding his heavy drunken gaze and continued efforts to flirt from 10 feet away.  These included awkward long stares that I couldn’t help but notice from my peripheral as he tried in vain to initiate a visual exchange by persistently snapping photographs of me with a bright flash; he then would follow this with several stares or gestures that made Taryn laugh hysterically next to me.  At this point, I had already been taking flack from her considering my acceptance of the free drink and my explanation that I think it carried intentions beyond getting me drunk.

At the conclusion of Danny’s set, my drunken admirer invited himself over for a friendly chat, in which case, I stuck around for a minute or two, and then excused myself to go use the restroom.  Upon my arrival back, I catch the tail end of Max, Taryn’s, and my not-so-secret admirer’s conversation about him being an Interscope Records recording artist who was dropped from his label because his music was “too dark.”  I thanked him for the beer, after which he replied, “my pleasure” with a hint of facial grimace, and then he left.

Joey, if you ever end up reading this, I mean no offense and find your advances flattering, however, I prefer to keep the company of a woman.  I can’t help it and hope you understand.  Please don’t take offense, and thank you for the Guinness; it was cold, delicious, my favorite, and I appreciated the gesture.  If I can carry anything home from this story, I think it’s cool that we (as human beings with feelings and passion) are progressively moving towards a world where one man can hit on another in an open public space and the worst thing that happens is a blog.  My hat goes off to you Joey (and I mean that with the most respect possible); you know who you are and you are proud of it!  I wish more people could truly say that about themselves.

So, until the next time I get hit-on by a man, or until I find something else to write about, this is Mike Vitale saying, salutations, and thank you for reading.

- Mike