Michael Engberg: News

I spent the last week in June at the annual convention of the GFA (Guitar Foundation of America), held this year in Austin, Texas. I almost hate to admit that it had been about 30 years since the last time I had attended such a convention (in St. Louis at that time, and I was approaching my senior of college, then). All in all, it was a very interesting and rewarding experience this time around (and I will spare everyone the drama of that previous experience, 30 years ago; a long story and really not worth getting into).
This time out, I heard several very fine performances. I particularly enjoyed Paraguayan guitarist, Berta Rojas, Croatian guitarist Ana Vidovic, and Russian flamenco guitarist Grisha Goryachev. And this is in no way meant to slight Pepe Romero, who played the opening concert for the convention, as well as a fine performance of the Concerto de Aranjuez on Saturday evening of that week. But while this was my first time to hear Pepe in concert, I have been aware of his place in the world of guitar for some years (he was inducted into the GFA's Guitarists Hall of Fame this year), and I have heard him often on recordings. The particular thrill with the other aforementioned players was in discovering new and exciting performers. All of them played with stunning clarity, execution and interpretation. It's the kind of playing that typically makes me want to go back to my room and practice (alot!!!).
On Wednesday of that week, I played hookey from the convention, and Pony and I cruised Austin's clubs on 6th street to hear the variety of live music featured there. We found a place called Darwin's Pub and stopped in for a drink. On walking in, there was a singer-songwriter/guitarist who, I have to say, was pretty unremarkable (three of the four songs we heard him play were esssentially the same tempo and using the basically the same strum pattern....yawn). I can't remember his name, and that's probably to his advantage at this point. But he was followed by a rock band that consisted of four of the toughest butch dykes I had seen in years (forgive me; I know that may be very politically incorrect, but their demeanor earns such a colorful description). The name of the band was "Girls Will Be Boys", and whatever first impression made by their swagger and appearance, I have to say they had a really good sound; sort of a cross between punk and southern blues, with just a hint of jazz by way of the lead vocalist. In short, I liked them.
I caught a couple of workshops, as well as a couple of private lessons. One workshop was somewhat provocative: that of a Brazilian guitarist named Marcus Tardelli. He was joined by his manager, who did alot of speaking on Tardelli's behalf (Tardelli having some limits to his use of English at this point). The manager described Tardelli's evolution as an artist as "a program of self-directed exploration of the guitar" which is a rather creative way of saying that he is largely self-taught. One of the more unusual features to his approach to playing is occasionally bringing the thumb of his left hand up from under the neck to play on the fingerboard (usually as a small barre, or sometimes just a single note). And occasionally he would use the back of his index or middle finger tip to create a small barre. All of this is presumably to allow some unusual chord voicings. Now, I don't necessarily have a problem with this as such (I have since been messing around with it a little on my own, and I can see where it could possibly be useful on occasion). But, in addition to this, he generally had his guitar on his right leg, which was then elevated a good bit by a footstool, which resulted in his right shoulder being hiked up a good bit. And it looked like he was using this shoulder and the right arm to sort of clutch the guitar (to perhaps provide some sort of stability?) for those occasions when he did this unusual application of his left hand. In this I had some concerns, because it at least looked like there would be a good bit of tension involved. Since it was a workshop, I had a chance to inquire about this, but Tardelli insists there is not tension involved. I still have my doubts. At one point I rather boldly asked, "How old are you?" I was told he is 33 years old. Forgive me, but I would be curious as to how this particular posture and approach holds up in another 15-18 years. I don't wish the man any ill, but in this particular matter he goes counter to almost every guitar teacher I have come to work with and respect. In addition, I saw a bit of bouncing in his right hand, which again tends to indicate tension. Much of this can be forgiven when you are still relatively young, but less so as time marches on.
In addition to the workshops, the lessons, and the concerts, I spent a great deal of money on several books of music and nearly a dozen new CD's, which means the convention will be with me for months, or even years to come. Still, I am resolved that I won't wait another 30 years before attending another GFA convention (I may even consider next year, in Columbus, Georgia).

It has been far too long since my last log entry. In the interim, I have celebrated the first anniversary of marriage to my dear wife, Pony. We have added a third cat to the household (I'm told that five is the number to avoid; as four is when you become the eccentric cat people and five is when you become the crazy cat people). And I continue to teach at Arapahoe Community College, in Littleton, Colorado. Among my teaching duties (and one of my favorites) is teaching a group called the Pop/Rock Ensemble. Depending on who signs up in any given semester (and what they play, and how well they play), we pick songs from the last 50 years or so of Pop/Rock history and work them up. I have a healthy contingent of 12 students this summer, which includes 3 drummers, several guitar players, a keyboard player, and a few vocalists. Early on this semester, one of the guitarists suggested that we should find some worthwhile cause to play for (other than just an end-of-semester concert for a grade). I told him I'd keep an eye out.
Not even a week went by when one of my private guitar students (at the Olde Town Pickin' Parlor, in Arvada) told me about a friend of his, Brad Bailey. Brad was laid off from his job over a year ago (so, among other things, this means a loss of his health insurance). Then, a couple of months ago, he was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. He has a wife and two teenage daughters. It was decided by the Pop/Rock Ensemble that we would organize an evening of music to raise money for Brad and his family.
This event is taking place on Tuesday, April 27th, at the D-Note (in Olde Town Arvada). It starts at 5pm with a middle school jazz band that includes one of Brad's daughters. At 6pm, I will do a set, followed by the Abbey Rogues, who play an eclectic mix of medieval, renaissance, celtic and balkan music (and yours truly, is of course a member of this fine, if somewhat eccentric band). At 8pm, the jazz band, Zazemi, will play, and the Pop/Rock Ensemble will take the stage as the headliners at 9pm. To say that the range of music that evening will be eclectic could be understating it a bit. Everything from jazz to blues, to folk, country, and many styles of rock will be featured. The Pop/Rock Ensemble will be playing tunes by the Beatles, Buddy Holly, the Clash, the Sex Pistols, Dire Straits, Bare Naked Ladies, and many more. And by the way, I need to say in the most straightforward fashion, that I am mighty proud of my students; not just for the performance that they are about to give, but for the fact that they have taken up this cause of helping out some folks who could use a hand.
So, anyone reading this, if you are in travelling distance of Arvada, want to hear an evening of great music and make a positive move on the karma wheel, come on out and join us (and feel free to bring along 42 of your closest personal friends).

I was playing a wedding in Breckenridge recently (wedding season seems to still be running). It was a site called Griffith Lodge, and a beautiful piece of earth, indeed. I was there to play for the ceremony, and was situated just behind all the guests. The plan (not unusual) was to play about 20 or so minutes of prelude music, then begin the processional. In this case, the bride and groom had requested an old celtic tune that I do, "Star of the County Down". I was to start it for the groom and his groomsmen to enter from one direction and take their places, and continue as the bridesmaids (and one bridesman...whatever), the two flower girls, and, finally, the bride made their way from another direction down the aisle.
All was going well. The tune in one where I can play it more or less as long as necessary, but there's a natural place to sort of build to a climax, and it looked like that should coincide nicely with the appearance of the bride. All was going well until the arrival of the Flower Girls. They were sisters (or one could only assume, given how much they resembled each other); about ages 8 and 4, I would guess. They were moving along, strewing flowers along their way, and got to just about even with where I was sitting and playing, when the younger flower girl (doing justice to any mule one would ever meet), stopped and would go no further. Her older sister, noticing that her sister had fallen behind, came back and tried to gently grab her sister's elbow to nudge her forward. Little Sister then grabbed a handful of flower petals out of her basket and pelted her older sister in the face. About this time, it was everything for me to just keep playing (with a straight face, no less).
Still, Little Flower Girl did not move. Mom finally had to come and bodily lift her out of the tableaux. Older Sister then continued down the aisle, followed by the bride.
Still, this is just the sort of thing that tends to make a wedding memorable. Later, after I'd packed up my guitar and equipment, I went to give my regards to the bride and groom. They were posing for pictures. Just as I got there, the photographer was making his best effort to coax something even vaguely resembling a smile out of two scowling flower girls.
Well, good luck with that.

It was sometime in July when I came home to find this skinny, grew critter curled up on one of the chairs on the front porch of our neighbor, John. He approached me with a low, somewhat pitiful meow, and a hop that heavily favored his left-rear leg. I called Pony out, but between the two of us, we couldn't quite ascertain the nature of his injury (Pony could not detect any fever from infection, nor could discern a break). Pony said that his characteristic hop reminded her of Tigger (from the Winnie-the-Pooh stories), so the name stuck.
We took to feeding him to help him heal, and allow him the luxury of not having to move about to much. Pony told me that he was not originally feral, or he would not have recognized the dry food we shared with him as something edible.
He did heal up, and took to wandering a bit. But he remained a frequent visitor; moreso over the last few weeks (as summer began to turn to Fall, or so I thought). It got to where he was there to meet me whenever I emerged from the house, or returned from a day at the college, or my latest gig. Many times, I would sit on the front stoop with him in my lap, wanting nothing more than a lot of stroking.
"Sometimes you pick your cats, and sometimes your cats pick you," I said to Pony. And between Tigger and me, we wore her down and convinced her that the house could accomodate a third cat.
A friend of ours (who happens to be a vet) told of us a clinic where we could get him neutered, get him shots, get him tested for feline leukemia and/or FIV (the feline version of AIDS). Last night (Monday night), we put the other cats upstairs while we let Tigger into the house and sequestered him in the spare bathroom by the kitchen. Pony took him to the clinic first thing this morning.
Tigger tested positive for the FIV. There is no cure; only the danger of infecting other cats. We had agreed that the most compassionate decision under such circumstances would be to have him put down. Pony was good enough to wait until I got home from work to give me the news.
I am a bloody, sentimental fool.
I have only known this little, grey critter for a couple of months, and yet I am sobbing over the loss of him (heaven help me if/when something should happen to our other cats). It can be argued that, this way, he died a bit more peacefully. All I can say is that we tried to do our very best for him.
We really, really tried.

I have donated money to Obama to help combat the misleading attack adds being used by the healthcare industry and/or Republicans. I have called my congressman, and am getting set to send letters to the two Colorado senators. I don't go to the townhall meetings. I don't believe in getting rude and shouting inanities, like "keep government out of my Medicare!" (one of the biggest demonstrations of idiocy I've heard in some time). There was a moment when my father was going off on Obama's "socialist" agenda. Meanwhile, he has engaged a lawyer and the two of the have met with a federal judge to have my mother declared eligible for chapter 19, so that the state may take over her nursing home care. I fully support this effort on my father's part. My mother has just recently been placed in hospice care, and the nursing home bills (some $5,000 per month) are killing Dad. Still, there was one moment where I quietly pointed out to Dad that this is just the sort of "socialism" he has been ranting against.
Ideally, I'd like to see some sort of single-payer system. My wife worked for the Australian government for several years, and as a consequence has much to say about Australia's government-run healthcare system. She is frequently appalled when hearing about people going bankrupt, losing just about everything, because of some health crisis. She has also pointed out the savings that are possible with a single-payer system, and the fact that even with such a system, Australia still has private health insurance companies that offer supplemental policies (for better care, or elective surgeries, such as plastic surgery or whatever). In other words, it would not doom America to adopt such a system. One of the things that contribute greatly to the strength of American culture was our ability to recognize a good idea when we saw one, then use it (or even improve on it). But then again, the notion of universal healthcare was first discussed in this country in 1915. And it has been shot down ever since by opponents generating the most outlandish and irrational sorts of fear. They are hard at it again this time. And the problem is that fear is so very irrational. It can override almost all objective, intelligent thought.
Failing a single-payer option, I would at the very least want to see a "public option" offered. We need something that stands a chance of keeping the private health insurance companies at least moderately honest. It seems to me that most people recognize that the present situation is not sustainable. Something has to be done.
Something has to be done.

Admittedly, it's been awhile since I've added a blog entry. Over the summer, I taught a songwriting course at Arapahoe College, and we had an end-of-term concert at the D-Note in August. Then there was a trip to Iowa to see family. My mother has been in a nursing home for nearly a year now. The Parkinson's is taking hold on her with each passing day. While we were out there, we joined the rest of the family in meeting with a hospice nurse (Mom's doctor has recommended hospice care at this point). It is my father and my youngest brother (Tom) who see Mom every day, and they take the brunt of the stress and grief that goes with that.
Most of the time, I think that I've come to terms with things. Parkinson's goes in only one direction. My mother is dying. Most of the time, I think I have processed that bit of information. But then, every once in awhile, something will hit me in just the most perfect way, and send me into tears. 'To be expected, I suppose.
So now the Fall semester has begun at the college. I have some 19 private guitar students, plus Music Theory and the other classes. It promises to be another very busy season. But sometimes busy can be good.
Still, I've GOT to make time to finish the various recording projects I've been tinkering with (for ages, now). And there's this book I've been threatening to write for... well... for years, now. I have vowed to finish a first draft before the year ends, so I need to get a bit more serious about that.
One day at a time, I guess. Do the best with the time you've got (God, that sounds entirely too platitudinous!).

In the summer of 1977, I was working for the Des Moines County Conservation Board. Most of the time, I helped mow the grass of the county parks. And once in awhile, we were dispatched to flush out one of the park outhouses (putting this summer job on the short list of some of the worst jobs I have ever had to do between gigs, as it were). It was a job to help earn a bit of extra money in preparation for college. I had just graduated high school, and was looking forward to attending Coe College, where I would earn my bachelor's degree in music.
I remember a Friday afternoon in August, on one of those particularly bad days (when the odious job of cleaning the outhouses left me smelling ever so ripe), that my Dad had picked me up from the job, and, as we drove from Mediapolis back to Burlington, we heard on the radio the announcement that Elvis, the King of Rock, had died.
I thought about this on Thursday afternoon as my wife and I were driving home from an afternoon of running errands. The sky was weeping from one of a series of afternoon storms that we had seen over the last few weeks. And we heard over the car radio that Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, had died of a cardiac arrest.
So Michael and Elvis both shared the title of "King" in the entertainment industry. And, ironically enough, Michael was married for some time to Elvis' daughter, Lisa Marie.
But I wonder how much farther the comparisons may eventually go? Will Neverland become a tourist site like Graceland (it seems almost more suited for such, what with the carnival rides, a potential petting zoo, video arcade, and whatnot)? Will people become as fixated on Michael as some fans of Elvis have? Will there be Michael Jackson impersonators playing shows in Vegas? Who knows?
But, on a more personal level, Michael Jackson and I were born in the same year. I have outlived him (not a huge accomplishment, there). It seems very sad to see someone pass so suddenly. Michael Jackson lived longer than Elvis, but fifty does not seem at all that very old to me anymore (clearly!).
I was reading somewhere, recently, that Julia Child's career didn't really start until she turned 50 (the same with the composer, Rameau, I believe). At this point, no one would make any great comparisons between Michael Jackson's career and my own. I am sure that folks reading will this present blog may find it extremely presumptuous that I even mention myself in the same breath with Michael Jackson. No, I will never match his accomplishments, to be sure. My career will never be confused with his.
But his passing is just one more reminder to me that the gift of life is quite fragile. Every day must be used as fully as possible. There is much that I still wish to do before I leave this earth (something Michael Jackson and I likely share with the vast majority of people).

George Hinkle was a gruff, barrel-chested bear of a man, with a flowing, white beard that would have done St. Nicholas proud. He'd served in the Navy back in his youth, and, by the time I met him, he was a machinist with his own shop and a good dose of years behind him.
He came to me looking to learn to play the guitar. It wasn't always easy for him to shape his big, meaty fingers onto strings and frets, but he worked at it with the same attention and determination he'd shown to anything else he put his mind to.
After awhile, we became friends, and the lessons evolved into something of a barter system: he'd help me keep my battered old van running, and in return I'd show him something new on the guitar, here and there.
For a few years, I would set aside the better part of a day to visit George at his machine shop. We'd chat a bit, and maybe go to some favorite greasy spoon restaurant he knew about for a bit of breakfast or lunch. Then we'd come back, look at my van and see what needed doing. We might have to travel over to the auto parts store to pick up a thing or two (and chat with the guys he knew there), and we'd usually end up changing the oil along the way, as well. And somewhere in and amongst all this, we'd break out the guitars and do a bit of playing. It was a good friendship.
George had Type 2 Diabetes, and he had a diet he was supposed to be adhering to, but he wasn't all that great about keeping to it. He had the glucometer and the bag of lancets to test his blood sugar, and he had the insulin to use in case the blood sugar was on the high side. And that was pretty much how he tended to things.
It was some years ago that one of my favorite guitars was stolen out of that van of mine, and I was understandably very upset about that. Around about the same time, George's wife turned in bed one morning to find George had passed away in his sleep. Peacefully enough, as I understand it. His was not a bad life, all in all. He left behind a couple of kids and a lot of friends who were glad to have known him. Suffice to say, I was doubly upset to lose two friends within the same short span of time. And even though I do believe George had a good life, all in all, he was 57 years old when he passed away, and I can't help feeling that was too soon by a good deal (especially since I turned 50 myself, just last October).
I'm thinking of George these days. I had my visit with the dietician at the Kaiser Permanente clinic last Monday. I was also issued a glucometer, with the lancets and strips and all. In showing me how to use it, my blood was tested for the third time in about ten days. The first test has shown a blood sugar level of 120, the second one was 126 (which is borderline diabetic, and hence the glocometer, and the session with the dietician). The third test was 119, so I was heading back into better territory, as it were.
It is the opinion of the dietician (and alot of other people willing to volunteer an opinion) that if I could drop about ten pounds, I just might dodge this bullet; drop the blood sugar "naturally", without having to resort to medication, insulin shots, or whatever.
The "natural" method, then, involves a bit more exercise, and a diet of about 1800 calories per day. I'm off to a decent enough start: I've managed to hit the gym everyday since Monday (just taking today off, with plans for maybe a long walk this evening). And I think I've been coming in fairly close for hitting the calorie target. But that has been something of a challenge. It's not just a matter of smaller portions (although that's a big part of it), but some foods have to be amended, or just outright eliminated.
But this is where I find myself thinking about George again. I remind myself that I have a choice. A real choice. I can learn this new discipline, or I really can just eat whatever I want, whenever I want. And, in doing so, I could very well end up diabetic, with all the complications and griefs that can come with that. And I could shorten my time on this earth. And although there is much about food that I dearly love, there is much more to life than just what I eat (or how much).
So I remind myself that it is my choice; that is within my power to decide the quality of my life and the shape of my future.
And so I am also reminded of Alcoholics Anonymous. The folks at AA realized long ago that if you tell a person they can never have another drink for the rest of their life, they WILL have a drink. They will look at an imagined span of weeks, months, or years, and their resolve will collapse under the weight of all that time. So AA teaches you to take things "ONE DAY AT A TIME"; because most folks can handle a day. So you say, just for today, I will not do this thing.
For years, I've been telling my guitar students about this disciplinary strategy. What works for taking a destructive thing out of your life can also be used to incorporate a constructive thing into your life, I tell them. I suggest that they take it one day at time regarding their practice, and not worry about the weeks, or months, or years, that it may take to become a "good" guitarist.
One day at a time.
Now, I am confronting that wisdom in a new and very direct way. I need to be more attentive, more conscious about my exercise and my diet. If I think about going years under such a regimen, I could get angry and rebellious (easily!!). So it's a one-day-at-a-time thing for me, at this point.
Now, I also want to stress that I am not looking to obsess about this health issue. I don't want diabetes (or the threat of it, at this point) to define me. On the other hand, there is something else that all of this has brought to my attention in the last week or so. I have become aware that the vast majority of this blog, quite intentionally, has been focussed on music, in one way or another. And it still will be, to a good extent. But music itself does not exist in a vacuum. It is informed by the life around you. The things that bring you joy, the things that challenge you, all that is life somehow finds its way into the music you make (or at least I believe it should be so).
And I would say that paying attention to the threat of diabetes, the influence of my genetic heritage, and.... all of that, causes me to think about what it means to live and to make music. It makes me look at the various flowers and vegetables that my wife and I have planted over the last few weeks, and admire the growing things. It makes me look outward a bit more, and I think that is all to the good.
And I have been made to realize that there is this distinct possibility that I won't live forever, and therefore I should maybe move a bit more aggressively on some of the dreams and plans that I have contemplated over the years. There is much to do, and I really don't know how much time I'm going to have to get everything done, so I may want to get to it with maybe a little more urgency. And so you find your inspiration from wherever it may come.
By the way, that guitar that got stolen out of my van was recovered about a year later. I named it George, and used it in recording much of my second and third CD's.
Here's to you, George.

Sigh.
Look, I really do think about my health. What's that handy little catchword? Proactive. I try to be proactive about my health. I exercise, I don't smoke (no cigarette has ever polluted my lungs), I meditate regularly (have been since high school), I don't drink to excess (the occasional beer or glass of wine, and no hard liquor in years).... all of that.
And I get my annual physical. And I do listen to the doctor. The last few years, the doctor has been saying that the blood glucose level is a bit high (103 in 2006 and 2007, and 102 in 2008), and I know that I have a something of a sweet tooth, so I decided to do something responsible about it. I used the season of lent as an excuse (and I think I may have written a bit about this in an earlier blog, but... oh well). I actually started a couple of weeks before the beginning of lent, about late January.
I gave up sweets, for the most part: no cakes, candies, cookies, pies, or other vehicles of processed sugar. I traded in Lucky Charms and Coco Krispies for healthier cereals (like Cheerios, and whatever). The only thing that passed for a treat was unsweetened apple sauce, lowfat yogurt, and a box or cup of raisins, here and there).
And it was not easy. I mean, I did have a sweet tooth, to be sure. But I looked at it as sort of a zen bhuddist exercise in awareness (and an exercise in will power, of course).
So I was actually rather looking forward to my next visit with the doctor and seeing how my disciplined paid off.
About a week ago, the doc had me go into the lab for a blood test, so we could have the results on hand during the exam. The doc shows up with the results of the blood test. Glucose level: 120!
Holy shit!
Wait a minute! (I ranted). I told the doctor all about my new diet and all, so, seeing as how I had skipped breakfast that morning (and sort of fasted by default), he had me do a second blood test.
The results of the second blood test: 126.
Borderline diabetic.
And now I have an appointment for Monday to see a dietician, and to get a glucometer, to measure my blood sugar on a daily basis.
My wife has had to endure my ranting. And she's been very good about all of this. She immediately went online to do a lot of reading up on this subject, and bought a few books, as well.
Me, I listen to what she's read, and take it in. But I have to admit that I am still in anger and denial mode. And bargaining. Bargaining is in there, as well. Because, after all, the bargain I had made with my body was, I will do these healthy things, I will exercise and watch my diet and all that, and you... body.... will appreciate that and stay healthy. And by the way, I still feel very, very healthy.
But I have to admit that this shit scares me some. First of all, there is a history of type 2 diabetes in my family (my father was diagnosed with it when he turned 50, and I just turned that magic number myself last October). But that is why I have exercised and done all these other way healthy things. I was trying to better my chances. I read somewhere that, especially after age 50, genetics only account for some 20% of your health and longevity, and the rest is lifestyle.
Now, I am feeling that I have little control over this shit. I mean, I did the stuff I was told to do, that was supposed to improve my circumstances, and instead of the blood sugar going down, it went through the roof.
There's another issue to all this: healthcare. Yes, I have health insurance, but it's with a whopping huge deductible, and a Health Savings Account that is as yet still woefully under-funded (between paying various bills, plus trying to keep a 401k afloat, I'm stretching every dollar as far as I can). I know I'm not alone in this. My main stategy for healthcare has been Stay Healthy. Don't get sick. When I talk about all those proactive measures I exercise (including exercise), it's because I am trying to avoid, as much as possible, succumbing to that giant sucking sound that is the U.S. healthcare industry. My wife (having enjoyed the "socialized" Australian medical system for most of her life) is appalled to learn of the many people who are forced into bankruptcy from one medical crisis. And really, it could happen to me. I try to be careful. I work damned hard at it, in fact. And that is just one more reason, why having something like borderline diabetes rear its ugly head, after all my efforts, is frustrating and a bit frightening.
So I hope that this country might figure out a healthcare program that actually helps cover folks; folks like myself, who are trying really hard to maintain a productive life of some quality, and don't relish the thought of losing everything because of a medical condition or crisis that overwhelms all your precautions.
Yeah, I'm still ranting. There is still a great deal of anger (and some bargaining, and maybe a little bit of denial). Some degree of depression is bound to find its way into the mix as well.
So if I could only find a clever way to channel this into a good song or two....

I recently had an exchange of emails with a representative from a Farmer's Market (won't mention the name as such, but it's a town north of Denver that rhymes with "older"). I've played some other Farmer's Markets, particularly the South Pearl Street Farmer's Market, in Denver (check my calender for when I'll be appearing there this summer). This latest Farmer's Market expressed enthusiastic interest in having me join their other performers; giving me a list of possible dates that I could consider signing up for. Nowhere in that email was there any mention of compensation for the musicians, so I asked about that.
Ah. Well. It's for tips, y'see. Oh, and you can sell your CD's, of course. And get some valuable exposure that may lead to other gigs.
I admit that it's a point of pride, but I want to get paid something for the work I do.
There was one time that I was talking with a local coffeehouse about playing at their place, and they, too, had a "tips-only" policy. "Look," I told them, " I've been playing professional gigs for over twenty years. I have a Bachelor's degree and a Master's degree in music. I have several thousand dollars worth of instruments and sound equipment. No offense, but I have more experience and a greater investment in instruments and equipment than the barristas who make your cafe lattes, and I am sure that if you asked THEM to work for only tips, they'd laugh at you as they walked out the door (and maybe give a one-fingered salute, as well).
Again, I admit, it's a point of pride (at least offer a something: even a minimum guarantee equivalent to what you pay your other employees).
I've had "discussions" with other musicians about this. I consider it a case of valuing who you are and what you do. Sure, there are times when you might consider waiving compensation. If you're playing an open stage, using that venue to try out new material or introduce yourself to a new audience, for example. Of if you're donating your time and talent to a charity you really believe in. But if you want to make a living as a musician, ask for a living wage.
SOMETHING!
So yeah: I consider it a little bit of an insult when someone asks me to play for just the tip jar. Even wait-staff at a restaurant gets a base pay (miniscule as it might be; and don't get my wife started on how unjust she finds that compared to the wages that waiters make Australia).
And to my fellow musicians out there: if you allow yourself to be used in this fashion, you will have only yourselves to blame. Again: value who you are and what you do. After all, it's sort of a given that you have practiced at being good at what you do. You've learned the songs (maybe even written a good number of them). If you don't value who you are and what you do, why will anyone else?
And that's my little soap-box sermon for today.

There is an old zen parable about a student who goes to ask a master about enlightenment. They sit down to tea, and the student starts explaining all that he has learned to prepare him for whatever wisdom the master may have to share with him. As he talks, the master pours tea. And it pours, and pours, until the students cup is running over and the tea is spilling everywhere.
"Stop! What are you doing?!?" the student shouts.
"How can I offer you anything if your cup is already full?" replied the master.
I have been reminded of this parable of late, as I have been practicing my "mindful" season of Lent. Having removed myself from radio and television, having taken myself from various sugary sweets (all cakes, candies, pies, cookies, and whatnot), I have been noticing, more and more, the benefits from doing so. On a level of basic health, I have lost at least five pounds, and I feel better. My body is more loose and relazed. And my head feels clearer, although I feel that is also due to the increased silence that I have imposed upon myself.
Don't get me wrong: I am not looking for some sort of acknowledgement of sainthood, or whatever (reminded, at this point, of something in one of the gospels where Christ points out that those who loudly proclaim their virtue receive their reward in doing so, but it is not the "true" reward).
No, I mention this because (as I have mentioned before, and recently) I want to remember this. There are good reasons for me to adhere to some of these changes past Easter, when I have the option of reverting back to my old ways.
In addition to the noticeable improvements in health I have mentioned, I have written one new song entirely, the lyrics for choruses of two more songs, and music for three others. A friend of mine who has known me for several years remarked just a couple of days ago that he can't remember when he's ever seen me so creative. At this point, I think it could be very easy for me to have at least one album's worth of new singer-songwriter material, as well as perhaps another album (at least!) of solo guitar instrumental work (and that doesn't include the projects for the Abbey Rogues and the Hays-Engberg duo).
Meanwhile, I am also learning more: about songwriting, about music business, about audio production.....
And in the midst of all this creativity and learning, I am also learning more about loving someone deeply and fiercely. Pony has become my closest friend, my dearest companion. It's probably no coincidence at all that so many postive changes have occurred since she came into my life. I don't wish to gush like some puppy-lovestruck schoolboy, but I am full of profound joy, and she is a very big part of that.
So, the ensuing months are filling with new gigs and the prospect of many new and interesting things to come. I was informed yesterday that I will be providing music in May for an awards dinner at the Littleton Historical Museum (on the 14th of May, actually). The very next day, we begin our trip to Oregon and Washington, playing some coffeehouses, clubs and house concerts, and finally seeing a part of the country that I have long been very curious about.
What a long, strange trip it will be (I expect).

The most recent assignment in my Music Business class was to create a business plan. I told them to pretend I was a banker considering them for a small business loan, and make it as professional and persuasive as possible.
One of my students (I won't use the name) submitted a lovely plan in a brown plastic file cover, well-typed, lots of detail. In describing the services that his business looked to provide, he put:
- Audio recording
- arranging and composing
- copulation assistance

Now, spell check did not alert him to his mistake, because, in fact, the word was spelled right. It did not even alert him to a grammatical error, because it was used in an appropriate way (grammatically speaking, that is). And when I confronted the student about it, he said he meant to write "compilation" (something very different, needless to say), and was not even aware what the word, "copulation" meant (might have to look it up in the dick-tionary).
Sorry: bad, cheap pun, at the expense of my student (and another reason not to use his name).
Still, it made for a bit of entertaining reading as I was combing through the assignments.
It is Spring Break for Arapahoe College at present (all most over, actually; classes resume this coming Monday). I've been using the time to try to catch up on a few things, while also allowing a bit of down-time, as well. I've been able to fit in some extra sessions at the gym, which always helps my mood. I have been working out on a fairly regular basis for some years, now, and I believe I have become a true endorphin junkie. Between the gym visits and my recent giving up of sweets, I've managed to drop about five or six pounds (and feel mighty good about that as well). I have to admit that reducing the sugar intake in my body does actually feel different, and better. And with the silence that I've been lving in for my most recent lenten discipline, I have come up with music for three songs, and lyrics for the chorus of another. I really need to pay attention to the lesson in all of this.
Also, Spring Break has allowed me to do a bit more recording for the Abbey Rogues, and move a few things ahead in terms of studio/recording activity.
All this fresh, creative activity seems very much in the spirit of Spring, and new growth and all. And before I get too gushy and cutesy, I think I'll leave it at that.

Yep. It's that lenten season again. And, once again, in the spirit of the season, I have given up the chatter of radio and tv (with the exception of watching DVD's with the wife). This year, I have also given up sweets: no cookies, cakes, candy, or pies. No processed sugar (although I do allow myself a bit of natural maple syrup on the occasional batch of waffles or pancakes). The dietary resolution is a new thing, but arguably long overdue. There is a history of diabetes in my family (my father is currently wrestling with type-2, which he acquired about ten or so years ago). And the last couple of annual physicals revealed a high blood sugar count in the blood tests. So this is a good thing (definitely!). I substitute somewhat with raisins and bananas, here and there (and that maple syrup I mentioned). But mostly, it's meant a rather dramatic reduction in between-meal snacking. And I have to admit that I am feeling better.
I started my latest lenten discipline about a week before the official beginning of lent. It was partly inspired by the annual winter fund-drive/begging campaign on public radio (certainly inspires me to turn the radio off). In the past, I have allowed myself to listen to CD's in the car, on the drive to and from work. But the newest car (our Honda) is a somewhat old thing, with a cassette player instead of a CD player (and I tossed out the vast bulk of my cassettes ages ago). So I am driving in silence. It's not all that bad. I can hear my thoughts alot better (something I believe I have mentioned from doing more or less the same thing last year).
Also (which I think I mentioned before), I find that lenten discipline is very complementary to some of my bhuddist leanings. Bhuddism teaches you to be "mindful"; to become more aware of the present moment. Deliberately choosing to leave the chatter of the radio off, or deliberately choosing not to have a sweet snack of some kind seems to do much to make me more aware of the present moment. So it's something of a consciousness-raising exercise.
So while I deprive myself of sugar and chatter, I am organizing that tour of the Great Northwest that I have mentioned in a previous journal entry. No definite dates or venues confirmed as yet, but hopefully something very soon (stay tuned).

A good friend of mine (thanks, Kristen) has been trying for some time to get me up to Oregon and Washington to do a bit of touring and playing. We are finally putting together plans to make something like that happen. The main targets are Eugene and Portland and Seattle. As tours go, it will be a bit brief: just a couple of weeks at the end of May. But we (my wife, Pony, and I) are looking forward to the adventure. In addition to Kristen in Seattle, we have some friends in Eugene, and look forward to meeting alot of new friends with the journey.
I've been going through alot of old repertoire in anticipation of this. There are the songs that I've written over the years (more than just what is represented by "The Way of the Wild Heart" CD), plus instrumental music of various styles. But there's also the medieval/renaissance stuff that I've done with Bedlam Abbey; that and the celtic and balkan music I've done with the Abbey Rogues. There's a handful of cowboy songs I've done with my old friend, Ernie Martinez, over the years. And there's a good mix of country, folk, blues, rock, and jazz standards from a long and rich career of playing in all those styles.
I am also hoping to break in some new original material. I've been teaching a songwriting class at Arapahoe College over the last couple of semesters. And along with giving my students assignments to get their songwriting muscles working, it's been an opportunity for me to do the same (sort of "walk the walk", as it were). This is my 8th year teaching at Arapahoe, and with each passing year, I learn something new for myself, and find new ways and reasons to get more creative.
The home recording studio is continuing to grow and evolve, and I am recording projects for both the Abbey Rogues as well as the Hays/Engberg (violin/guitar) duo. And with the latest songwriting activity, I look forward to one or two new personal projects, as well.
Meanwhile, there are rumors that Arapahoe is going to expand its commitment to a recording program, with something that will start to resemble an ongoing recording facility, some new equipment, and perhaps an expanded curriculum somewhere down the road (there is talk of creating a certified two-year degree in recording engineering).
All of which is guaranteed to keep me busy for a long time.
Now, if Pony and I could just avoid catching any more colds.....

As is my (somewhat compulsive) habit, I am listening to NPR as I write this blog. This, after I just spent a good hour or so playing computer games.
Resolution #1: play less computer games.
Resolution #2: cut down on listening to NPR.
With all due respect to NPR. I am a thorough news junkie. Besides listening to NPR, I watch MSNBC, read Time and Newsweek and Rolling Stone, and occasionally catch snatches of Ed Schultz or Air America. But the thing is, all of this is proving a terrible distraction. I need to spend more time writing, composing, learning to use my Sibelius, Reason and ProTools software. And so it is: less feeding the news addiction, more doing the creative work-stuff.
So, in the spirit of the creative work-stuff, I want to try to do a bit more writing on a more regular basis. Including this blog (although my wife does not regard this as a "proper" blog at all). Still, I'm going to try to find something to note here on perhaps at least a weekly basis. Since this is the Many Hats Music website, I still look to keep the blog mostly centered on things pertaining to music, entertainment, and the business of such. And in that spirit, I would like to mention (and recommend) a book that I recently acquired: "Remix", by Lawrence Lessig. It is a book about the confrontation between the copyright laws and the old business models of the music and entertainment industry (developed through most of the 20th century) and the new digital culture that promotes a "share-ware" attitude. It addresses questions about how can musicians, writers, and others who deal in intellectual property might still be rewarded for their creative efforts, while acknowledging that the old monopolistic business models are no longer as effective, or even relevant. I am only a few chapters in, but already I find it an easy read, full of useful and insightful information. For any other musicians out there, dealing with these issues, I recommend it highly.
On one level, I am still on "holiday". The community college where I teach is on break until mid-January, so my teaching load is considerably lighter at present. I have actually had a few days with no gigs, no lessons, no classes: feels rather like a real vacation. Still, there are things that demand my attention (even moreso, since there are things I need to try to accomplish before I am once again in the thick of teaching classes and lessons). My new wife and I are putting together all the necessary materials to present to Immigration (it's called something else these days, but I can't remember the exact acronym; all I know is that it is now part of Homeland Security, and more bureaucratized and laborious than ever, from what I can see).
In addition, I am doing some of that work-related reading, and re-organizing some of my notes and plans for the upcoming semester. But the biggest thing is looking to sort of retool my performing career, as it were. I am looking at the music I play, and what I've played in the past, and I am trying to get a sense of how it all fits together. It's an existential challenge for just about any musician, I think: who are you, and how do you sell your own unique self to potential audiences?
Over the years, I have written some of my own stuff, and I am ready to stretch those old muscles and start writing some new songs. I have also played everything from folk to blues, to jazz, to rock, country, and you name it. Where do I take all of this experience from here? It's all part of who I am, and I do feel that audiences today can accept something fairly eclectic. But they still have to have some way to get a handle on you (as it were). Like many a musician, I am looking for how to make that connecton with an audience "out there". And along the way, I am constantly learning how to better do the business of music: everything from how to better exploit digital and internet technology, to staying on top of copyrights, ASCAP membership, marketing, promoting my own label, organizing tours, etc.
So, another resolution: describe this learning process in this blog in a way that I hope will be interesting, entertaining, and useful to other musiciains along the same path.
Later today, we go to visit with my friend Roman and his kids (his wife, Roxanna, is travelling somewhere in Egypt at the moment; otherwise, she, too, would be joining us). Along with a few other friends who gather with us, we will honor an old European tradition of eating sauerkraut on the first day of the year. According to tradition, doing so is supposed to assure you of a prosperous year. I have been joining my buddy, Roman, and his family on the first day of the year and engagining in this tradition for some 16 years, now. Over that time, circumstances have got gradually better. I have gone from singing telegrams and temp jobs to teaching private lessons, teaching classes at the college, and playing some good gigs. As I said before, I am hoping to add writing and composing into the mix to a greater extent. So, for me, and for my family and friends, and for everyone else, I wish 2009 to be a very interesting, excity and prosperous year.

It's the longest night of the year. One of my friends also informed me that Dec. 21st was designated World Orgasm Day (okay, then). For me, last Sunday, Dec. 21st, was the day that I married.
My wife's name is Leone, although she is known far and wide by the nickname, Pony (quite far and wide, actually, since she is from Australia). We met about 30 months or so ago, at the Pennsic War (an event run every summer by the Society for Creative Anachronism, which I would encourage you to look up at SCA.org, if you're not familiar with the organization).
It has been two-plus years of an easy friendship that has grown into a deep and abiding love. I have played guitar for hundreds of weddings, and have heard countless couples talk about marrying their best friend. I know what they mean. I have also heard the cliche that love comes when you are no longer looking for it, and I understand the truth of that one, too.
Over the years, I have been fond of saying that I measure my wealth by the quality of my friends. With my wife, I have become an exceedingly fortunate one, indeed. And my life is richer than I could have imagined.
And it is true that part of what entered into our scheduling of the wedding was the fact that Pony's mother is visiting with us until late January, so she was able to be present for the wedding. And I am lucky in that I have acquired a mother-in-law who is very pleasant company.
So it's been a good Christmas this year. And it's been a pleasant break in many respects. But I am getting itchy. It's time to move on with various projects. I think I have mentioned before the book, "How To Be Your Own Booking Agent", by Jeri Goldstein. It is a book that I use in the music business class that I teach at Arapahoe College. In the first chapter, there is an exercise, where you are called to envision where you want to be in ten years: what you want to be doing, how much money you want to be making, what sort of music you want to be playing (how many CD's you want to have recorded by then), etc. You are encouraged to be bold; 'don't limit your dreams.
After you do this ten-year plan, then you are supposed to do a five-year plan, in which you take into consideration where you say you want to be in ten years and say, "If I want to be at this point in ten years, then I must be at THIS point by five years."
Upon completing the five-year plan, you then do a three-year plan (if you expect to be at such-and-such a place in fives year, then you have to have done thus-and-so in three years). And finally, you then extrapolate all of this into what you must attempt to accomplish within the next year.
Admittedly, any such plans are not written in stone, and can change over time. But the point is, by have a plan, by mapping out a career stratey, as it were, you stand a greater chance of achieving some (or even all) of those goals).
I have done this exercise before, on a somewhat limited level, but I am now looking to work through this process in a much more deliberate way. And my spouse is committed to helping me identify and achieve these goals (she is looking to be come my personal manager, as it were). So Many Hats Music will now have at least one more head to handle those many hats.
Everyone recognizes that the economy is in a precarious place, and there are many who look to the future with a great deal of anxiety. But I am hopeful. I look to the future with an invitation to become as creative as possible, and with a companion to travel into the bold future with me. From the longest night of the year, we head to brighter days. Yeah, that's something of a cliche, too, but it's a good one, for all that.

I was invited to return to Coe College, where I earned my bachelor's degree lo so many years ago, to do a lecture on the effect of digital technology (and the internet in particular) on the music industry. In addition, I was asked to perform a recital. The recital was divided into two parts: the first half would be classical guitar repertoire, the second half would be more my own choice, as it were; things from my three CD's, or other original tunes and arrangements.
The pieces I chose for the first half were all mainstays of the classical repertoire; things I'd played hundreds of times in restaurants, coffeehouses, private parties, weddings and what have you. I should have been able to do them in my sleep. And yet, as I walked onto the stage of that old recital hall (where I had sweated out many a performance as a student), I was seized with a stage-fright.... no, a panic, I think.... that I could neither explain nor dismiss. My right hand started to tremble uncontrollably (reminding me of my poor mother, who was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease some 16 years ago). To put it mildly, the first half of that recital was disappointing; certainly for me, and I am sure quite as much so for my audience.
Right.
After the intermission, I walked onto the stage again; this time with both one of my steel-string guitars in addition to the nylon string I'd used in the first half of the show. I started with a set of three celtic pieces that I'd arranged, then followed with my own arrangement of a couple of Beatles' songs, and on to some orignal pieces from my CD's. I sang a few songs from my "Way of the Wild Heart" CD. I finished with "Bula Learns To Dance" (the title tune from my third CD). There was no nervousness, and there were no mistakes. I was totally within the moment and enjoying myself thoroughly. I had no regrets at all about the second half of my program.
But as I reflected back on the whole experience, I feel I had a an epiphany of sorts; maybe more than just one, in fact.
First, as to the material in the first half, it seems that there are still old demons in my psyche that wait to come out at unexpected moments. I can't recall the last time I had such an intense spell of stage fright. I'm not sure what brought it on, but it is something I want to investigate and learn to deal with.
But just as important, if not more so, was the state of mind I had in the second half. As I said, in the second half, I felt entirely at ease and in my element. Really, the difference between the two halves of the program were like night and day. And one of the most basic revelations I had following that experience was that the second half showed me the path to my bliss.
At the end of the performance, I was met by my old composition professor, who squeezed my arm firmly, gave me an encouraging look, and said, "You need to express yourself!"
I've been told this before, of course. I've even said something along the same lines to some of my students over the years. But this was perhaps the most vivid lesson on the subject that I can recall.
I have seen some fantastic virtuoso players of classical guitar. And there are several reason why I cannot reasonably believe my own path lies in that direction. I love the classical guitar repertoire. From very early on, it showed me the possibilities of the guitar; that it is more than just something to strum while singing. And I believe the technique and the discipline of the classical guitar tradition are very useful to me. It becomes a way to focus, as well as to meditate. But it is not my path, as such.
Many times, I have had students (young boys, mostly) ask me who I thought was the greatest guitarist. And my reply has been that there is no such thing, really. How can you compare Jimi Hendrix, Andres Segovia, Chet Atkins, Joe Pass, Django Rheinhardt, and Eddie Van Halen and say that one is better than the rest? On the other hand, I could say that I can identify each of those players within some 5-10 seconds of hearing them play. And many other players, besides. And I think that is more important: that who you are comes through so clearly in what you play and how you play that it is unmistakeable to the listener.
Playing classical guitar, my own voice will not be heard. It will be drowned out by other players (and yes, better players). But I do have my own individual voice. I do have my own path, and my own way to express what I have learned and lived. That is my path. That is what was made most clear to me in the wake of that recent performance at Coe College.
So, once again, I feel I have graduated from Coe College; and a little wiser for it.

It's been way too long since last I wrote in this blog, and I have resolved to try to be more faithful to the spirit of this feature.
It's been another busy semester at Arapahoe Community College. A couple of particularly interesting and enjoyable experiences this time around have been the Pop/Rock Ensemble and the Songwriting Class. The Pop/Rock Ensemble ended uip with some half dozen students this semester: a drummer, one student who switches between guitar and bass guitar, and three students (two sisters and their brother) who each play keyboards and sing. We've been working on some CSN&Y stuff, some stuff from They Might Be Giants, Pinball Wizard (from the Who), and other stuff. This is only my second semester of handling this ensemble, and it is a very changeable thing by its nature (depending on who enrolls and what they can sing and/or play). Basically (so far as I see it, anyway) anything in the realm of Rock and Pop music from the last 50 years or so is fair game, which allows alot to work with.
The Songwriting Class has been a bit spotty in regards to attendance, sometimes, but it's been fun actually working with the students and discussing issues of lyric writing, as well as the challenges of setting lyrics to music (or vice versa, as the case may be). There are some other students who have expressed an interest in this class for next semester, so I look forward to building this particular class into a more active program.
And along the way, I am looking forward to being a bit more active in my own songwriting. And who knows? This could result in another CD project or two, further down the road.
Meanwhile, I continue to build up the home studio (the better to accomodate all these creative activities). Also, I am slated to return to Coe College (where I got my Bachelor's degree, lo so many years ago) to give a lecture about the changing face of the music industry, as well as play a recital there. The recital will be a mix of some more or less traditional classical guitar repertoire, as well as some "more personal" stuff (material from my three CD''s, as well as a thing or two from upcoming projects). I am looking forward to the experience.

The new semester at Arapahoe Community College started on the 18th of August. In addition to the classes I have taught before (Music Theory, Music Business and Law, Beginning Guitar Class, Pop/Rock Ensemble, and Audio Production), I have had a new class added to my schedule: Songwriting. It's a small but eager group of some 4 students, but that means we can dig into some of the nuances of songwriting with some detail. I am using a couple of books by Pat Pattison (a teacher at Berklee of Boston) that address the craft of lyric writing, adding bits about chord progressions, song structure and a little talk about rhythmic grooves along the way.
There was a lyricist named Sammy Cahn (he wrote the song, "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow"). Sammy had his rule for a good song: if you could play the song slowly (like a ballad), and it still sounded good, it was a good song (try this with some of the disco and/or rap/hip-hop tunes, and see if they survive Sammy's test; for that matter, try it with just about any song).
I find this a useful test, actually. It helps you to evaluate the strength of a melody, how well a line of verse stands up to the greater scrutiny of a slower tempo, and what harmonic richness might be in a song, often hidden by a faster groove.
So the semester is a busy one. It usually is, and this time just a bit more busy than usual.
The Denver Classical Guitar Society will be hosting their second Classical Guitar Student Competition in the Spring of 2009, and I have two guitar students at ACC who are looking to take part in this event. They are very ambitious, and are willing to let me work them like dogs to get them ready. It will be a bit of extra work for me, as well, in helping them to get ready, but it's an exciting thing, for all that.
On a totally unrelated note, Wednesday (the 10th of Sept.) was the day when students who had qualified for financial aid were to collect their checks. This happens every semester, of course, and it's always a bit of a circus. There is a line that winds, serpentine, through the halls of the college's main building.
As I was walking past this long line, I saw a large (and I mean LARGE) man dressed entirely in pink: pink shirt, pink slack (and not something like sweat pants, either, but pink dress slacks), matching pink shoes and cap (and all exactly matching in the shade of pink). Very strange.
I was talking to Max (one of the building management staff) a bit later in the day and asked him if he had seen the man in pink.
"Oh yeah, man," said Max, " he's a pimp."
"You're kidding me!" I said.
"No, no, really," replied Max. "If you looked close enough, you'd see a number tattooed on his arm that designates what turf he works. He's a pimp."
A pimp. At the college.
Wow.
This triggered a few thoughts. First of all, the man was in line to collect financial aid. Actually, as I thought on that, I suppose that most of his income is probably not reported (given its illicit nature), so I suppose, on paper, he probably looks like a candidate for financial aid.
I'm thinking that maybe he was going for some business classes?!?!
Then I got to thinking that maybe it made sense, in a way. I mean, that a pimp, who chooses to take college classes, should attend Aparahoe (emphasis on the last syllable, you see).
Yes, an awful pun. If you've been reading this blog for awhile, it won't really surprise you.
Take it easy.....

This is an old story from my days in graduate school:
My first year of graduate school (at a midwest university I'll hold off naming), I came out one morning to find a big ol' dent on the back fender of my car. Now, while it's true that I was a poor graduate school, and my car was not one of the newest or finest things on the road, I was still pretty pissed. In fact, probably because I was a poor graduate student, and this car was the best I could manage, I was particularly pissed.
There was no note; no indication whatsoever as to who had hit my car. But one of the neighbors in the apartment complex saw what happened and took down the license plate number of the car that had hit mine.
So, with that number (and a description of the car), I managed to track down the owner and confront him. At first he balked; tried to deny it all. But I told him I had a witness and that if he really wanted to try to wriggle out, I would be fine with going to the police. So he sort of caved in, but he asked if he could pay me with a check, rather than going through his insurance company. He didn't say so in so many words, but he didn't want to go through the insurance company because then his wife would find out about him spending the night with someone else at my apartment complex.
And the kicker: this guy was the professor of "Business Ethics" at this university!
I think about this when I hear stories about Enron, or the sub-prime mortgage crisis, or oil speculators, or Cheney and Halliburton and KBR (and their no-bid government contracts). Or when someone quotes the movie, "Wallstreet" where Michael Douglas' character says "Greed is good!"
Or on a level more relevant to my own profession: when someone like Jennifer Wallace, of Elegant Entertainment, declares bankruptcy and skips out of Colorado, owing thousands of dollars to various musicians.
An extra note on the Elegant Entertainment debacle: Jennifer and her pals did some pretty interesting pricing. What I can speak of from personal experience is where they booked me to do a gig playing Santa for an auto parts comapany. They were paying me $75 (and claiming that was the best they could do, given the company's budget), while they were charging the company some $300.
This entry could rapidly get very preachy. But the bottomline is: it's about greed. It's about ethics. It's about the golden rule of doing unto others as you have others do unto you (and not the business school version, which would have you do unto others before they can do unto you).
'Nuff said (for now, I guess).

First of all, it seems that the United States is over-populated with guys named James (or Jim). My father is named James. I have a cousin Jimmy. And I have three good friends named James (or Jim), and one of those guys has a neighbor named Jim.
I mention this because my friend, James and his neighbor, Jim came over last weekend to help me finally finish the wiring of the input plates for the recording studio. These are the XLR plates (female on the recording space side, and male to lead into the DAW on the control room side), plus a couple of quarter-inch jacks to handle either the headphone bay, or even to plug in a guitar, if one should desire.
One small step at a time, the studio is getting together and getting better and better.
In a similar way, recording projects are moving forward. There are almost a dozen tunes in various stages of progress for the intended Abbey Rogues CD. And Julia Hays came by the other night to help drop a track for our duo project (two different projects, actually: one is a demo of wedding music, while the other is hopefully something a bit more commercially viable).
Everyday, I try to move forward on one project or another, even if it is only in small degrees. Everyday, I try to keep the guitar work moving forward, or to write a bit on my intended novel, or to learn something more about the recording equipment (and apply that hard-earned knowledge).
What's that old Chinese saying? "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step"
There's another motto that I try to use on a regular basis, and that's the old Alcoholics Anonymous motto: "One day at a time". It's trying to do something each day, basically making each day count, that is all important.
Primarily, I try to get in some guitar work each day (and the more the better, but at least a little). I am trying to expand that concept into other areas: composing, writing, exercise.... At some point, one does sort of hit a wall. That is, there are only so many hours in a day; only so much that one can realistically hope to accomplish. So I keep the guitar as the steady, the mantra, and try to include the other activties on at least some sort of semi-regular basis.
It's all about discipline. It's a hard-earned, hard-learned lesson that I wish I had exercised a bit more ardently in my youth. But there's no use in wallowing in regret.
I realize that this particular blog is going to come off sounding preachy. Just how "entertaining" or "enlightening" it may prove for anyone who comes visiting the website and checking this stuff out..... hard to say. On some level, I do hope that other musicians who feel they are banging their heads against a wall might find something useful here. It's all about making the most of each moment. I know very well how much time can be wasted in dwelling on past mistakes, or doubting yourself. I've gone through all of that (in spades!).
I can't remember just when I first heard of mythologist Joseph Campbell, and his advice to "follow your bliss", but I have taken that advice to heart. And from what I can tell, that means trying to make the most of each day, and don't spend too much time worrying about what did or did not happen yesterday, or last year, or whatever. And in a similar way, you can't get too hung up on the future either. The future will find you. "Seems to me, what you want to do is grab hold of the present moment, and build that future one day, one moment, one minute at a time.
Okay, that's enough of a sermon for one day. Next time, I'll talk about torturing cats, or cats torturing me, or something.

The learning curve continues to be a bit steep. I am working on the home studio; which includes everything from learning the finer points of my Korg 3200 DAW, to working with ProTools on the IBM, to installing drywall and electrical boxes (and this with the good help of various friends and a couple of my guitar students).
By the way (for anyone else looking to construct their own home studio), there is some new drywall material called QuietRock (ask for it at a drywall dealership; Home Depot is not likely to carry it, at least not at this time). It's a bit pricey, at $65 per sheet. But one sheet has the sound-absorption capacity of some eight layers of "regular" drywall (it really is very quiet). There is also insulation designed for extra sound absorption as well. Combine these two materials, and you can do alot to fix up that home studio.
Next on my list is assembling the rack for mounting the patch bay and various special FX, finishing with the installation of electrical boxes, for xlr input/output plates (plus a couple of 1/4" jacks, to accomodate a headphone bay in the recording space). That's alot of the "hardware" side of things. On the "software" side is practice with the recording gear itself (including the ProTools, which is seemingly a life-long project in learning how to finesse that software). And, somewhere down the road (hopefully not too far down the road) will be acquiring a machine to print and record CD's. The ultimate goal is to make audio production for Many Hats Recordings as much "in-house" as possible (even down to desiging and printing jewel-case inserts and doing shrink-wrapping.
Actually, CD sales are going to be a somewhat limited prospect in certain respects. Reading up various music industry articles, there are people working to make MP3 technology with higher audio fidelity; so digital downloads will not only become more ubiquitous, but will start to offer reasonable competition to the sound one gets from a CD (although there will always be people who like having that physical object in their hands, or the impulse buyer at your gig who wants something to take home).
For recording artists (in addition to CD's and digital downloads), more and more are looking at licensing their music for tv, movies and advertising (and ringtones!). The nature of the industry is definitely changing, but that doesn't mean everything has to look so very dire. Some old business models are dying, but new opportunities are coming along, as well.
At the same time, I was reading an article in Rolling Stone about a revival of interest in vinyl albums. And coincidentally, I have recently received two new emails inquiring about my old, first album, Machingbyrd's "The Road To Forbidden Ecstacy". I must confess to a bit of amazement at this new interest in a project I did nearly 30 years ago. I am getting raves for this music that I would have loved to receive back then (but don't mind it at all at this time, either).
I have a very small cache of virgin copies of that album in storage (still in the shrink-wrap and all; although I would be quiet willing to tear off the shrink wrap for the purpose of signing them, should that be more desirable). I don't really have enough copies to worry about flooding the market (and I'm not sure how much of a market there really is, anyway). It's all good, really, but I would hope that some of these folks who are expressing so much enthusiasm about my youthful recording efforts might be willing to check out some of my recent CD's (they might find something there they'd enjoy as well).

I used to often tell the story of my grandfather Engberg. He made bathtub gin during the Prohibition, and was a trumpet player who played in the community band, as well as some of the dance bands that would come through town, from time to time. I have one vivid memory of my grandfather. I was probably about five years old, and there was a family reunion of all the Engbergs and Kochs (my grandmother's side of the family; I am equal parts Swedish and German on my father's side). The family reunion began as a picnic in one of the town parks, and eventually everyone made their way to the Nira tavern. This is thetavern that Grandfather Engberg started, once Prohibition was repealed. There was a new song on the jukebox, a thing called "The Twist", with Chubby Checker. There was a dance that went with the song, and everyone was talking about it, but noone was brave enough to get up and try to do the dance. No one but me and my grandfather, that is. Everyone else smiled, or laughed, as the old man and the five-year-old boy danced to the Twist. But I cherish that memory.
For years, I would give Grandpa Engberg credit for my being a musician (and perhaps for some of the bold spirit that has moved me through life). Then, one day, I played at a retirement home where a few friends of my mother lived. I told that story about my grandfather, and afterwards, my mother said to me, "just don't forget that I played the organ and the french horn, and a good part of your talent comes from me, too."
Very true.
Not only that, but my mother has been a registered nurse, a small business owner, a teacher, a real estate agent, and so much more, over the years. There was a particularly hard year, when my father was gravely ill and bedridden for months. My mother, out of necessity, got her own insurance license and ran Dad's insurance agency (while still taking care of us kids, and Dad). Her drive and spirit has been relentless, and almost legendary amongst my oldest and closest friends.
There are many wonderful and/or colorful memories of Mom from over the years. There was the time my brother, Steve, and I did some sort of stupid thing, and our mother said, "How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"Seven," I replied, and got my mouth washed out with soap.
In addition to the various achievements I have already listed, Mom was also a Cub Scout den mother, leader of a girls' drill team, and spear-headed several of the town charities. She was a foster mother for a few years, and stayed in touch with our foster sister for years afterward.
Like her father, she has occasionally been accused of being something of a workaholic. What I can say on that score is that Mom was not fond of just sitting around idle. She has always wanted to be doing something.
Some fifteen or sixteen years ago, Mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. In her typical fashion, she took the news head on, and studied everything that was known about the disease. Over the years, she has worked diligently with the doctors to keep the progress of the disease at a minimum (sometimes to the point where some people who did not know her well questioned whether she really had Parkinson's).
I have no problem with giving my mother credit for some of my musical talent. But I would add that it is from her that I have inherited much of my own native drive and energy (and my imagination). From her, I learned not to simply accept things as they are (especially if I wasn't satisfied with the status quo). From her, I learned both how to meet obstacles head on, as well as to practice a measure of discretion from time to time (which has served me well when negotiating with agents and clients, on occasion).
I was hearing a piece about the woman who started the tradition of Mother's Day, and that she wanted it to be a simple remembrance of mothers (and not the incredibly commercialized excuse for the greeting card industry it has become). I try to adhere to that spirit, and I am deeply in debt to my mother for the many, many things she has done for me, given to me, taught me and inspired in me, over the years.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Your proud son,
Michael

About ten years or so ago (on a Sunday afternoon, as I remember), I was relaxing on my futon couch after a gig at Stella's coffeehouse (somethings haven't changed all that much, I guess). When the phone rang, and I was told the person on the other end of the line was Mike Engberg, in Nashville, Tennessee.
You must understand that Michael Engberg isn't one of those particularly common names. It's not like Smith, Jones, Cooper, or whatever (a movie came out his weekend, called "Forgetting Sara Marshall", and National Public Radio found at least three Sara Marshalls to interview about suddenly gaining some measure of notoriety). No, Michael Engberg is not all that common, really; which is why I have actually come to embrace my name. There was a time when I toyed with a stage name. On first moving to Denver, I tried going by the stage name of Iowa Jones (with a nod towards both Indiana Jones and Utah Phillips, as it were), but I wasn't really all that comfortable with it. At some point, I figured that my given birth name was good enough. Moreover, if folks like Dan Fogelberg, or even Art Garfunkel, could get along in the entertainment industry without changing their names, I figured mine wouldn't have to be too much of a handicap, in the long run. In fact, I figured it would help me stand out from the crowd a bit.
So here it is that I get this call from another Michael Engberg (although I think he prefers to be called Mike instead of Michael, which may be some small measure of distinguishing between us, perhaps). The Nashville Michael Engberg was surfing the internet, looking to see what might be found under his name, and had run across my website. It's when he mentioned that his wife's name was Rebecca (which is the name of my ex-wife) that I started to look for the ghost of Rod Serling in the corner of my apartment (and would swear that I could hear the faint strains of The Twilight Zone theme song).
As I understand it, the Nashville Mike Engberg works as something of a Nascar mechanic, or something along those lines. Anyway, he claims that he knows several people in the music industry in Nashville (used to be neighbors with Chet Atkins, I believe).
We haven't talked in the ten years or so since that first phone call, but I got an email from him the other day, where he suggested we might get back in touch, and he offered to be of some help in maybe getting my songs out among some of the music industry folk he knows in Nashville.
So.... why not? And if, by chance, someone were to pick up one of my songs (or I even go down to Nashville and manage to make a name for myself, as it were), I imagine it would make for a pretty cool human-interest story that one Mike Engberg proved helpful to another.
It just gives me one more reason to gather my various songs together in one or another demo version. And yes, I think I need to give the Nashville Mike Engberg a call, and see how he's doing.
I hope he's doing well.

I have to admit that I am rather looking forward to Spring Break (which officially starts on Monday, the 10th of this month, but effectively begins today, Friday, the 7th). I am looking to spend a couple of days visiting family in Iowa, but I am most looking forward to getting in a lot of extra guitar practice and making some progress on some of the recording projects I've been working on. The recording studio remains very much a work in progress. I still need to insulate and drywall one wall, and do some painting and installing of some of the acoustic tiles. But I have managed to get some good recording done, even as these various details remain to be finished. I am still hopeful that I might have two or three new CD's ready to go by sometime this summer.
Also, I'm having a good deal of fun expanding my knowledge of both ProTools and Reason. And I am looking forward to taking my music in some new directions. I am looking to a a good deal more composing (in a variety of styles), and having the expanded use of recording and MIDI technology makes for a lot of exciting new ideas.
Meanwhile, my roommate, Pony, has headed off to continue her globe-trotting. She just spent a few days in New York, and is now headed to Prague (and from there to Italy, Thailand, and eventually back to Australia). I can look forward to seeing her again sometime in late July, but, in the meantime, it's a bit quiet on the homefront. Of course, she has left me in a new house and with two young cats (Zebie is about six months old, and Sam is nearly three months old). Granted, the cats provide a form of companionship (to be sure!!). Suffice to say they are a good deal more active than the turtles (who are surviving the cats, thanks to a wire mesh cover on their terrarium, and they don't have much interest in the cats).
In short, life goes on, with plenty to do and hardly any time to be bored.
In regards to the music, the music industry is in such flux these days that it gives everyone, from major labels to the individual musician a reason to assess where you are and where you want to go. In some ways, it can be one of the best opportunities for musicians. The internet has made it possible to get your stuff out there in a way never seen (or should I say heard?) before. On the other hand, it makes it more challenging to find a way to stand out from all the other excellent musicians also trying to be heard.
To that end, I face a steep learning curve: learning new things about internet and website usage, computer graphic design, mixing and mastering, digital downloads, ringtones, and much more (not to mention keeping up with some of the business/legal aspects of a changing industry).
Spring Break, indeed!!