highway to the danger zone.

If there’s one song that exemplifies my general hatred for ’80s love ballads it would have to be Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” from the Top Gun Soundtrack. I literally get sick to my stomach every time I hear it. It’s the reason why I can’t watch the movie anymore. And it’s got everything that makes a song terrible: Woman singing about how she’d like a man to take her breath away? Check. Bass line that sounds as though it were produced by some sort of unidentified flying object? Check again. Snare drum with enough reverb to drown Michael Phelps? Check yet again. To quote the great Abraham Lincoln, “Listening to this song is like purchasing a one-way ticket to Pukes-ville.”

So I beg of you, please keep all that “Almost Paradise”, “I’ve Had The Time Of My Life”, “Islands in the Stream” love duet bullshit away from me. In fact, just keep anything written by anyone named Kenny away from me: Kenny Rogers, Kenny Loggins or even that country clown Kenny Chesney just to be safe. They all suck in my opinion.

What do you guys think of '80s love ballads?

midas touch.

Most people I know wouldn’t describe the five hour drive from San Jose to Los Angeles as pleasurable. I, being the weirdo I am, love the desolate trip down the Interstate, for it grants me the opportunity to create one of my favorite things in the whole wide world: the road mix. Eighty minutes of slammin’ tunes to keep my company and I entertained while making the trek down to the city of angels, as well as a chance to show off my top-notch musical taste to the world. Unfortunately, my intentions to impress don’t always go as planned.

(An actual conversation that took place on my last drive to L.A. with the girlfriend)

GF:  I like the mix, but what’s with track number five?
Me:  You serious? What’s wrong with Midnight Star?

GF: I don’t like it. What’s with you and the funk tunes anyway? That’s all you listen to.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Me: (singing) I’ve got the midas touch – everything I touch turns to gold, oh sugar.

GF: Nobody likes funk music anymore but you. Change the song pleeeeese.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Me: This is blasphemy! Blasphemy I tell you!

This conversation between my better half and I got me thinking. Was I really the only guy still listening to mid-tempo funk tunes these days? I really didn’t think so. Maybe it’s because I was born in 1981, but for my money’s worth, it doesn’t get any better than the post-disco electro-funk put out in the early ’80s. Songs by funk acts like the Dazz Band, Gap Band, Lakeside, and Earth, Wind & Fire have frequently filled track space on my road mixes, not to mention the hours of fun-filled steering wheel drumming I have enjoyed because of them. So I silenced the nay-sayer of funk riding next to me, and yelled “Give me synthesized bass lines or give me death!”

the east coast family.

A couple days ago I came across some of my old cassettes from when I used to tape record the radio as a youngster. You see, sometime around ’91 or ’92, I had taken a liking to locking myself in my bedroom and recording the radio when a favorite song of mine would come on. This way, I’d be able to rewind the song as many times as it took to memorize the lyrics and recite them on the playground the following day.

One of the tapes in particular, grabbed my attention. It had a blue J.A. sticker on the front and looked as though it had been played at least a thousand times. I quickly took the tape out of its case and put it on. Immediately, it was like I was back in the 5th grade again. Playing tetherball and four-square. Wearing cross-colors and Hammer pants. My good old friends Michael Bivins, Teddy Riley and Devante Swing were all back, helping me chase girls at recess. Man o’ man. Listening to this tape was the absolute shiznit.

Just when I had finished doin’ the humpty hump, a song came on that had pretty much jump-started my love for music altogether: Motownphilly. Three minutes and fifty-six seconds of new jack swing at its finest. Dallas Austin on the production, Bivins on the guest appearance, and Boys II Men on the smooth harmony vocals. Clown if you must, but this song single-handedly led to my very first music purchase ever. In fact, I loved this song so much that I saved up the seven dollars that I received for mowing my grandparents’ duplex lawn for two weeks just so I could buy the album that it was on, Cooleyhighharmony. Of course, my mom had to drive me to the Wherehouse to do so, but that’s besides the point.  

Bow ties and flat tops. ABC BBD. Check out the vid here.

While cooling on South Street.

we will never forget.

When I was nine years old and my little brother was seven, we took a summer trip back to Portugal to visit our grandparents. One night while we were there, my dad and a couple of our uncles made us do a dance number to entertain our grandparents just after dinner had finished. The song: “Baby Don’t Forget My Number” by Milli Vanilli. It was nightmare. Neither of us wanted any part of it. Imagine the look on our little faces as we were forced to embarass ourselves in front of folks who had never even heard of Milli Vanilli, much less the song itself. Luckily, just as we were getting to the bridge of the song, an unsuspecting neighbor of theirs walked in the front door and saved us from our train-wreck performance. Thank you old neighbor, oh thank you!

On that note, I’d like to say thanks to Milli Vanilli for teaching us how to make asses out of ourselves while performing for family members in foreign countries.

Watch a clip of Milli getting busted lip-synching in late 1989 during a live performance on MTV (see here).

blame it on the alcohol.

During my undergrad days at San Diego State University, a roommate and I started recording songs in a basic bedroom studio that we had set-up in our place. The two of us would sit in there for hours on end, trying our best to one-up each other with different musical ideas and newly-discovered sound effects (courtesy of N-track, in case you were wondering). Throughout each recording session we always remained conscious of how our friends back home might react to our creations, as we would often compile finished songs for them to listen to over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. It was trial by error back in those days, and we loved every minute of it.

Sometimes one of us would have to leave a recording session to go to class (our parents were paying for a college education afterall), and would return to find that the other had already laid down a fresh bassline, piano part, or hi-hat pattern to listen to. It was complete freedom. No rules to the tunes, just a couple of music-loving dudes doing what they did best: laying down tracks.

Cuicacalli Suites Dorm, Room 346. (Circa 2003)

What we found worked best while making these songs was a healthy combination of alcohol and Led Zeppelin records. The alcohol (in the form of Bud Light usually) kept us loose, while the Led Zeppelin records kept us on the introspective tip. Every time we would load Led Zeppelin IV into the laptop and pop the top off one of those aluminum cans, we knew we were in for another musical journey. We’d talk about the band for hours, sometimes focusing solely on the lyrics to “Stairway to Heaven”. They were brilliant fucking times. In fact, this classic pairing of beer and Led Zeppelin would be revisited time and time again over the years for inspiration, as we went from making bedroom studio tracks to writing songs for a 6-piece funk-rock band based in San Diego.

Due to the positive influence that Zeppelin and beer have had on my creative process over the years, I now present to you a challenge for the next time you’re enjoying a tasty beverage of your own: 

Step 1. Kick back a couple of cold ones. 

Step 2. Listen to “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin and debate the existence of the after-life with a close friend.

Step 3. Check out the music video for “Typical” by Mute Math. The video features the band performing the song backwards, which took them 3 weeks to learn.

Step 4. Sync up the classic film The Wizard of Oz (1939) to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon (1973) album and experience the dark side of the rainbow. It’s a trip. Read more here.

Step 5. Watch This Is Spinal Tap (1984), a rockumentary about a fake British rock band long past their prime. You will laugh your ass off.

Step 6. Track down a cassette tape of “Diamonds & Pearls” by Prince and listen to that shit until the tape pops.

Step 7. Repeat.

Prince loves you.