Alex Radus: Tour-Blog

today my host, Top Notch, drove me far into the mountains, past a little town called Nederland, right to the continental divide. we found a no-parking sign, parked under it, and began threading our way through the pine trees. our plan was to see how close we could come to the glacier at the other end of the trail before we had to turn around. our secondary plan was to have more fauna luck. today on the potential fauna menu was bobcats and bears. a sign warning "intense mountain lion activity" seemed very promising, though in my mind it only conjured images of mountain lions on ropes courses or mountain lions attempting to plan a wedding or something.

there was a much longer sign dedicated to potential bear sighting luck. it started with never ever feed bears, and listed other things to do in regards to bears and food. finally it got around to listing things regarding humans being food, and after many assurances that bears rarely attacked, were vaguely well-meaning, and were more scared than you (which i don't buy, after all bears shit wherever they want, remember?), the list finally got around to the good stuff, namely, what to do when it's clear beyond a reasonable doubt that you are going to be bear food.

"Fighting Bears" it read. Under this heading it advised you find a weapon to use, and suggested as potential choices sticks, stones or binoculars. I was not previously aware that binoculars were so effective against hulking, half-ton wild animals, but apparently so. Perhaps it is because they are typically on a long string used for hanging them about the neck. Then they may be wielded as nunchucks, also known as nuchako, the Oriental hand weapon for defense against frontal assault. This would level the playing field between man and bear by extending the reach, and assuming the bear did not deftly tear them from your grasp before crushing you, binoculars could be formidable in this fashion.

Secondly, binoculars could be used against bears by harnessing the energy of the sun. Set carefully at the exact angle, one could direct the sun's rays through the binoculars backwards, and focus them directly on the eyes of the approaching beast. This would blind the bear, buying time to escape, taunt the bear further, or feed it something. This may also prove difficult, however, for getting the proper angle may be impossible in the time allotted before being delimbed. It may be just as simple to convince the bear to look through the binoculars at the sun of its own accord.

What I think would be much safer, is for the park rangers, once they've collected your $8 per car admission fee, to issue each hiker a magnifying glass with a sharpened handle tied to a long string. This would have all the personal defense benefits of binoculars, without needing such expertise to wield.

Alas, neither Top Notch nor I would have any reason to defend ourselves, as we had no fauna luck whatsoever. No bobcats, no bears.

We also didn't make it to the glacier which is a few hours hike in each direction. However, these small failures aside, we had a wonderful time and the scenery was fantastic. Realizing we had set our goals too lofty, Top suggested we make it a point to at least touch snow before turning around. I thought this was a neat idea, but quietly decided that it would be my personal goal to hit him with an August snowball before returning home.

Climbing a particularly steep section we turned a corner around a large boulder to find a rushing waterfall, and beyond it, a section of ice the size of a bus. We climbed past the fall, to where its rocky banks were somewhat close together, leaped over the rapids and climbed down a rock face to the ice. I got there first and quickly scooped up two snowballs. Not wanting to wing them at Top Notch as he descended the rock face, but unable to hold them, I put both in my pocket, and once his feet were on solid ground, threw them decisively at his chest. For today my goal was accomplished. Check.

Last night's gig at the Sink was great! I really had a blast and everyone from the previous night came...and even more. By the stage the Sink has these skinny slatted windows, and below was a small sill where I put my drinks. In between songs I went over for a sip and looked out the window. There was a pretty girl there waving at me. So I waved back. Then she came up and kissed the outside of the window, which I thought was gross and cool. It was flattering to be sure, but I did not kiss the window back. Kissing girls is fun. Kissing dirty bar windows is not fun.

The Sink is covered in artwork. I mean, on the actual walls. It's really cool and would probably take about a week to really look at all of it. One of the most clever is that a few feet from the men's room there's a door painted on the wall to look exactly like the men's room door. The manager Ian told me that on a really busy drunk night it's fun to just camp out there and watch drunk guys smash into the wall. According to Ian, the most stubborn of the lot try to open the fake door repeated times. I'd like to see that. I might go back tonight and just sit there.

I have two days off to rest my voice and my bleeding finger before playing Denver on Tuesday night. I'll be playing with my friends Smooth Money Gesture. They've got a great buzz going on out here in Boulder; I'm looking forward to seeing them!

binoculars,

Alex

today i went tubing on a creek designed by the army corp of engineers. it's designed specifically for tubing. see, these are the kind of things the government should be spending money on. blowing things up and building them again is pretty cool, but is it cooler than a mile of pool, drop, pool, drop? no, it isn't. demonstrably.

what made it even better is that it was seriously batwings today. however, PJ told me that the water was about 2 feet lower than normal; we weren't careening quite as much as we normally would be. so we're going to have to go back. that's fine. super fine.

when i was little i loved it when my parents had parties or even just one other couple over. something about falling asleep (probably at about 8pm) to the voices of adults and music in the other room made me feel safe and quickly lulled me to sleep. i suppose that's why it's still so easy for me to pass out in the middle of parties, which i did after my show two nights ago. except it's not always safe. sometimes people put shaving cream on you and put birthday candles in it and light them and film the whole thing.

i'm not saying this happened to me. it didn't. but it could. i know this because it happened to a guy who wouldn't stop screaming annoying things at one of my concerts once. there's pictures of that somewhere. mwah ha ha.

no, this last mid-party ass out was much more benign. gina said that when she shook my leg i smiled. so i guess i smile in my sleep in the middle of parties. it reminds me of home. some girl kissed me while i was sleeping. that was alright i guess. i was sort of nonplussed at the time and remain so.

later i woke up to people screaming about going night swimming. i thought this was a great idea and shot out of bed at once all ready to go. then i went back to sleep. it's probably for the best. josh swam into a wall and really fucked up his face. although someone else said jeremy jumped on him. i like it when injuries have two contrasting explanations. i think it's an important thing to understand that truth is relative, especially when it comes to drinking and getting hurt.

i was also tired because earlier that day, before the show, pj and hillary and gina and shelby and i went for a hike. it was beautiful and we had some serious fauna luck. we saw an 8-point buck and a fox. fox are cute. sort of like catdogs. at the end of the trail i climbed up on this high lookout and had a 60 degree arc view of eastern and southen colorado. gorgeous.

yesterday i sang for roughly 4 straight hours. i'm still kicking. i'm a rockstar. thunderbird was delightful. wonderful people and delicious food and we went to a party afterward where for some reason all the girls were dressed up for roller derby or something. it was kind of hot and weird all at the same time, which is about the best combination there is.

i didn't fall asleep in the middle of this party however, but there's always tonight i suppose.

Yesterday morning I woke up at 7. At 7:30 I had eggs. By 8:30 I was at Philadelphia airport. 9 o'clock--in a bullet-proof isolation booth. At 9:15 a man with rubber gloves on asked me why I was nervous.

"You have rubber gloves on," I thought. But instead said, "um...I'm fine." Sure, totally normal. This happens every day, nothing to be concerned about. I'm standing spread-eagle and you're touching my ass. Typical Wednesday.

He also asked me if I was one of those guys who got all hyped-up on Red Bull. I'm not sure what that means, like there's a type. I've had Red Bull like, once, and if anything low blood pressure is probably my biggest health risk. Perhaps he was trying to get me to slip and say something like "Oh no, sir. It's probably all the blow. I always need a key or two before I fly."

By the end of the frisking I found out that he lived in New Jersey and is an avid piano player. Neither of us can read music though, so we bonded on that.

At 10:15 I began reading "Ender's Game" as the plane wisked me to Charlotte, NC.

(At 1pm today I finished "Ender's Game. Goddamn I want to save Earth.)

the first thing i saw when i got off the plane in denver was that the men's room moonlighted as a tornado shelter. appropriate, considering i'd been spinning since morning, showering the surrounding area with looping circles of debris...

...but i didn't know that yet. first i had time to eat a bagel, which brings me to my next point. why the fuck are bagels so small once you leave ny, nj and pa? i thought it was just new hampshire, but no, colorado too. uncool. Bagels and peanut butter are a real tour staple. The keep me full for hours which is no small feat. But I'm just going to have to start buying entire loaves of bread for lunch if this keeps up.

so it wasn't until i was finished with my bagel and had taken the weirdly enthusiastic underground train (ala Serius Cybernetics Corporation "It is my pleasure to open for you and close again with the satisfaction of a job well done") to the baggage claim, that i found US Airways had lost my luggage. which wouldn't have been such an issue if it was just clothes. i've worn/slept in the same outfit for days on tour, and while normally my companions are quietly judgmental, i rarely care.

However it WAS an issue cause ALL my merch was in there. Rookie tour mistake. Never check all your merch. or your laptop for that matter. So I had to play one show without merch (US Airways delivered my bags at 4am last night!) which isn't bad all things considered. Although I could have sold CD's to the nice quiet attentive crowd, but instead I made $11 in tips which I promptly spent in a bar.

But I'm in Boulder, CO and I have my merch now and things are looking up. Less spinning, less debris.

Meg White is even CUTER in person, and Jack White effing ROCKS.

I've seen orchestras, 11-piece brass bands, gigantic lick-crazy rock crap starring 15 guitar players jamming on 1/4/5 ala rocknroll hall of fame induction horseshit, and none of the above sonically filled a room the way those two did last night.

Fuck eleven. Jack had his amp on 80. Really. His amp goes up to 80. It's seventy louder. And I'm pretty sure Meg was jumping on her bass drum pedal at some point. She may have kicked it through the stage and into the sub-stage netherworld where bands like striper claim they had orgies. and they probably did. but who cares? even orgies don't rock as hard as the white stripes. unless maybe it was an orgy WITH the white stripes.

(oh great. now everyone googling 'orgy with the white stripes' is gonna be directed to my blog. faaantastic.)

Portland is a hilarious city. It's so clean and pretty and drunk. There's so much music...great great music. I went to see a band called The Awesome on saturday night. Guess what? They were....wait for it...wait for it...awesome. My new friends Sly Chi are equally awesome. R&B, Funk with Kelly at the helm who is pretty like Jacky O and ON POINT like Aretha.

And oh yeah, I played some shows too. Dogfish, the Stadium, North Star Cafe. All excellent experiences. I'll be shipping off to Portsmouth today to play at Dolphin Striker. Recently, over a few drinks my friends and I cringed, assuming that the name had something to do with spearing and/or killing dolphins for food. Portsmouth is, after all, a port city. Someone suggested it be renamed Seal Clubber. I thought Baby Kicker was a good one. And someone else suggested Puppy Puncher. I think they're all good ideas. But for clarity's sake, we'll say I'm playing at Dolphin Striker tonight. I hear it's a great venue. I'm excited to see it.

After it's all over we can begin to muck up the water again with other monikers like Grandma Pusher and Kitten Spoiler.

Speaking of Kitten Spoiler, my friend Jen went to a bridal shower the other night. Though there was a verbal altercation, through a series of miscommunications Pat and I were informed that there was a 'bridal shower brawl.' When I talked to Jen again, I asked how the ladies night slugfest went. She was appropriately confused. But something good came out of it because I think Bridal Shower Brawl and Ladies Night SlugFest are GREAT names for bands.

I'm not naming anyone specifically, but perhaps someone could get in touch with all those freaking bands that used the [verb] [person's name] formula of band naming,
ya know, bands with names like Breaking Bob, Naming Robert, Pushing Suzy, Waking Phil, Hollering at Mike, Fooling Lindsay, Eating John, Annoying Everyone. (see? I just named 8 crappy bands that probably already exist without even breaking a sweat). Maybe someone could get in touch with them through their Manager/Dad, and let them know that I've come up with some GOOD names for bands.

OK...so I'm actually paying for this internet time cause I'm kind of stranded in Portland for reasons that are complicated and fun, and I think I only have, like, three dollars left, so I better shove on. Stay cool, dear readers, stay cool forever.

Alex

"I'd rather claw my eyes out."

That was an exchange I had a few minutes ago...at 7:30 am.

This morning I woke up in the backseat of a car...not mine, just A car. There was a person in the front passenger seat. I was pretty sure his name was Adam. I shook him awake.

"Adam...Adam...where are we? What are we doing here?"

"Gnnnnnuuuuhhhhh."

"Oh."

I still don't really have the full story, but the ride home made me SICK.

I was informed by my host that last night was "a frickin catastrophe," so that certainly goes to explain some of it. The rest, presumably, I ought to be able to explain on my own, but can't.

However, fricking catastrophes aside, Portland is AWESOME with, i gotta be honest, maybe the best girl/guy ratio ever. The show last night went really well. I have a date with Camp Hawthorne. I hope they call. They're gonna be my ticket for this tour's 3rd lake swim. That's right. 3 lakes so far. Jealous much? Then we're gonna play music by the fire. Then we might make friendship bracelets. It's all up in the air. No promises. But I hope they call! I've never had a date with an entire camp before. Exciting.

Oh I'm sick. Going back to bed. Goodnight.

Alex

on tuesday night I fell asleep in a bar. that's ok, though, cause it was also a church, and I was definately looking for sanctuary. on my first night with no place to sleep, I thought I was down on my luck. So, like anyone would do, hundreds of miles from home with nowhere to sleep, I woke up, picked up my guitar and joined the bluegrass jam on stage. "Something will work itself out," I figured. After a quick study I figured out the chord progression and jumped in the fray. Almost immediately the fiddler turned to me and over his crooning bow said, "Remember me?" "Um, no...," I said, embarrassed. "It's Abram, from Elkins, West Virginia!"

Oh man...I love tour.

Abram, and now I saw Amanda (who was playing upright), had both been my students many moons ago in Elkins, and they looked different, all grown up and playing the shit out of their instruments. It was great to see them. And it was great that they helped land me at Mary and Steve's farmhouse in The Middle o' the Woods, NH.

In the morning we caught up a little more and walked out to see the bay. On the way, I'm fairly sure we all contracted poison ivy and lymes, but that's for time to tell.

I tried to check in with you, dear readers, a little earlier, but to no avail. As I crossed into Vermont on my way to Montpelier, I passed a rest stop sign which read "Vermont Welcome Center---WIFI." I was sold and pulled off the highway.

This Welcome Center must have cost the state of Vermont at least a million dollars. It had neat displays, interactive stuff, random monitors in the wall displaying nature scenes, and what was referred to as a Living Machine System, which is way more interesting for you to imagine than for me to describe. It also had a gorgeous view of the mountains. I parked myself on a couch overlooking the scene, plugged my laptop into the wall and prepared to tour blog away.

*maybe it should be hyphenated...tour-blog. Yes, it does sound amphibious.*

...prepared to tour-blog away.

But some weird Vermont screen came up and asked me to login to something or other...finally I walked over to the Welcome Center Man and said "Er...is there something I'm supposed to know about the WIFI?" "Yeah," he said, and reached for a nice, full-color, glossy flier that must have cost the state of Vermont a mint to produce.

"Thanks," I said, and began to read. The first thing I saw besides how pretty it was, was a list of per-minute prices. "Oh!" I said..."I get it...you charge."

"Yeah," he said, "The 'F' in WIFI doesn't stand for 'Free.'"

I thought this was clever in a total-asshole sort of way, and told him that if he was going to work in a Welcome Center, he really ought to actually be somewhat welcoming.

Zing...who's next?

So instead I sat on a table outside and played my new song. Before I left I toured the Living Maching System, refilled my coffee three times, peed twice and took a map of the state of Vermont...just to show him I could get free stuff if I wanted.

After that it rained, and rained and rained and it was total white-out and I almost crashed (again) twice. At one point it was just too much and I pulled into a rest stop to wait it out, but about 20 feet in from the turn-off there was a small river pouring over the road. Some total nuts were driving through it, and I watched a few cars almost get washed into the ravine. But my spot wasn't ideal either, and the cars trying to get into the rest stop after me were now nearly rear-ending me before careening into the new river. I weighed my options and decided the safest possible thing to do was to reverse onto the highway and then accelerate really, really fast. I did. It was probably about as safe as being rear-ended or driving into a river, but somehow I got away with it.

Montpelier is a cute little town with perhaps more bookstores per-capita than New York, but this is NOT a bad thing. I asked the barista at the gig what Wednesday night shows were typically like. "DEAD," she replied.

Oh.

But thankfully she was wrong. I had a lovely little audience and by lovely I mean, really quite attractive. It was nice. The sound was good, the lights were dim, a group of pretty girls were playing UNO quietly in front of the stage...really, all you could ask for in a gig.

The band after me was very good, but they were having some trouble. They'd taken a bus from their hotel to the gig, but there was no way for them to get back. I offered them a ride if I could crash on their floor. They agreed. Then we found out the the town their hotel was in was actually under water. Shit. So they crashed in town and I drove on to dear Burlington, VT, where I am currently falling in love with a pretty, smart and very witty city by a giant lake where I went kayaking yesterday and whispered sweet nothings into the waves. We're going out again tonight...wish me luck! I think she likes me.

Alex

so, the cd's only been out and available since saturday, and already a handful of people have said something akin to the following...

"hey, so and so burned your cd for me. it's awesome!"

and I'm all: "heh heh...Greeeeat."

so, let's do this now and forever hold our peas.

yes, burning is stealing. and it sucks for the artist. sucks sucks sucks. but here's what else...i get it. i do it too.

so i'm not the captain of the morality squad coming to tell you about piracy. you know. you've heard it all, and it has or has not already stopped you.

but here's a new perspective. here's why I think I should be different in your eyes.

remember when cd's came out? well, anyone younger than me might not, but for the rest of us, here goes. remember when they said that it was a new, cheaper technology, and they were going to 'try it out' at $10 per album, and when it caught on they would lower the price to $3 or $4 per cd? remember?

yeah, they did that. what are cd's now? $18? $19?

and fuck that is right. so if you ever see a cd of mine for $18 or $19, burn the fuck out of it.

but i don't sell my cd's for that. why? cause I don't have yachts and hummers and porsche's and gigantic mansions that i need to maintain. i don't have a crippling addiction to blow and i don't have to pay people to have sex with me.

i sell my cd's for $10. and i think that's perfectly reasonable. the money is not going to some corporate music asshole. it goes to me, which ties into the next reason.

next reason? when you buy my cd, you not only get a great cd that i've put lots and lots of work into, you also help insure that the next show you come to is bigger and better than the last. i do all my own booking and publicity and it costs lots and lots of $. I want to put on good show for you. I want to be able to pay the great musicians on stage with me enough to stick around.

so is that enough? i can think of more, but it boils down to this. if you're going to burn my cd, probably nothing i'm going to say will stop you. so here's some alternatives you can try...

burn only few of your favorite tracks...

burn only mp3's

burn the cd and then cough grossly on it right in front of the person you're giving it to. tell them the doctor only thinks its a minor lung infection.

just please, please, please, please leave SOME incentive for them to maybe one day actually purchase the cd.

or, better yet, just tell them to buy it. or buy it for them...they're your friend after all. And if you've bought it in the last few days, chances are I am too...

Alex

actually, I would like to post script this with shout outs to some of the people in the past few days who have really gone above and beyond.

at the lizard lounge two friends i watched hang out all night came and each bought cd's from me. they could have easily just bought one and burned it.

*thank you*

at the stone church in newmarket and great duo named 'nice and naughty' purchased two copies of the new cd. same story...easily could have burned it.

*thank you*

at the lizard lounge, not one but two people offered to overpay me, one by $5 and one by $10. Instead, I gave them copies of "Devil" and "LoveMe" to give to friends.

*thank you*

trust me. it's waaaay more important to me that you have my cd than that I have your money. but i'm just like everyone else. I gotta make money or change jobs. to all of you who've been honest and supportive, thank you sooo soo much.

yesterday's drive play list...

Moby - 'Play' fucking rock!
can't remember
Me - "I'm a Pistol"

wrote a new song in the car. my favorite alltime place to write! actually, that was most of today's playlist too. like to play it for you. here it goes.

I'M A PISTOL

i shot down 'ugly hat' on a street in charlottesville
she watched me from the crowd and said i like the way you kill
now you come home with me you could use a little rest
i holstered my guitar and fell asleep on her breasts

and the tractor-trailers haunt me
as we scream around the turns
man you hit the brakes so hard
you'd think by now i'd learn
i'm burning gasoline
but i don't need to say goodbye
i'm a young man
i'm a pistol
and i'll never die

they say i never had a chance to be a kid
they say i used to smile and then i never did
i settled all that on a road to west virginia
you can't stay angry once monongahela hits ya

then a runaway from staunton
told me not to fix my mistakes
let the cracks be cracks
the cracks are where the soul escapes
and he sang me a melody
so wrong it made me cry
i'm a young man
i'm a pistol
and i'll never die

my uncle alexander gave me his name
i got his pocketwatch where he had it engraved
they found his body but found nothing to explain
he took the secret of his death to his grave

but a hotel room
is as good a place to go
as any railroad man
or road-dog picker ought to know
it's a hell of a thing to wander
and never wonder why
i'm a young man
i'm a pistol
and i'll never die

when I woke up this morning my bed was rocking back and forth...reminiscent of...well, ya know. i was alone, so i had to search for other explanations. I googled "cambridge" and "earthquake," but no dice. Maybe the T runs under the house.

also, they're totally right about eating pizza before bed. fuck that. at least the aliens had the decency to teach everyone the dance moves before liquidating us.

on my right wrist I have one of those dorney-parky-type plastic paper cuffs on. the kind they give you when you go into concerts or whatever to tell if you're old enough to drink, allowed to go backstage, whatever. Mine says "MUSICIAN." So it's official. In case you're interested, my barcode is 49024. So in case you want to know what genre I play, what I think about the Taylor 610 versus the 410ce, or any of those questions I can't or don't want to answer, from now on you can just scan me and see my entire MUSICIAN profile.

Speaking of people with records, I walked past a group of cop cars yesterday in Davis Square. Someone had been arrested and was sitting in the backseat. He was filthy and surly and as I walked by, he punched the inside of the cop car window. It was awesome. To stop him from breaking the window, and presumably cutting himself horribly, the cops rolled it down. Then he started shouting cool things like, "No No No! It was ATTEMPTED B & E!

An hour later I walked by again. This time they were putting him in a paddy-wagon. I guess because it had no glass for him to punch. As the cop shoved him in the back, he entertained the small crowd by shouting, "They're gonna kick me in the face!"

Oh, coooool.

The lizard lounge is red and silky and covered in robes and the sound is awesome and Tom Bianchi is awesome and lots of people who played were either good or interesting. Some were both, like The Mule. He's on myspace, but he says he hates it and only checks it once a month, but I guess you can look him up somehow anyway. I told him I thought his genre was Meat and Potatos. He was nonplussed. I get it. I hate it when people tell me what my genre is. But I do it anyway like a big jerk.

I'm going to drive to Newmarket, NH today to play at the Stone Church. I hear that place is groovy and I'm excited. I hope I can find a Guitar Center along the way. I want to check out a Taylor I'm thinking of purchasing.

Thanks to everyone I met last night, and thanks for picking up CD's. Oh, and I went to a mechanic this morning about that awful noise from my engine. He says he thinks I'll make it home.

Marbles,

Alex

ps...I just got yelled at by Myspace for not putting in a subject header. It said I HAD to. I'll show them.

i'm sitting in my cousin's apartment in cambridge, ma, drinking someone else's coffee that came from this cool vintage looking can with dust on it. i don't know how old it is. it's good.

and oh, it's good to be on tour again.

cd release was a blast. the band played oh so well. thanks pete and lance and gabe. i think this is the beginning of a beautiful bandship.

and now that the nyc cd release is behind me, i can begin to promote the philly cd release. what? did you think there would just be one? silly rabbit. Tin Angel, September 9, 2007. Also starring Maria Woodford, Latebloom and Duende. We're gonna do it up right!

The George Washington Bridge is a circle of hell. But it's ok that Dante missed it; it hadn't been built yet. I can't even count how many accidents i passed between GW and Providence yesterday. One was cool. it involved a tractor trailer. not that people's misfortune is cool...but, cmon, everyone likes a good tractor trailer accident. I was in an accident once with not one, but NINE tractor trailers. And IT WAS AWESOME.

Yesterday's driving playlist:

Mark Knopfler - 'Sailing to Philadelphia'
Oingo Boingo - Assorted
Cassia Eller - Live
Wilco - 'Kill Your TV' (or something like that)
Emerson College Radio - Here I listened to about 3/4 of a version of the Beatles "Birthday" (or whatever it's called) sung by Bugs Bunny, and then I turned it off.

Songs I started writing in car--3
Times stopped for gas--1
Creepy men in rest stop gas station--2
Accidents narrowly avoided--2
gigs played--2

Speaking of which, last night it Providence was great. AS220 is a sweet little art space/music venue/bar. Real nice stage...we didn't even plug in or use mics, which i like from time to time. Smallish audience, but very attentive and almost all bought cd's. Thanks! Check out the folks I played with sometime...Ryan Fitzsimmons, Chris Capaldi, Mary Ellen Casey.

I'm slithering out to the lizard lounge tonight for some hot music action. talk soon,

Alex

On Feb 14th Alex Radus won Society Hill Playhouse's 3rd Annual Singer/Songwriter Competition: Valentine's Day Sucks 3. The competition was a benefit to raise money for Bckseet Productions' upcoming world debut of "Hung on a Blond Ponytail: An Act of Rock." The evening was a great success with wonderful musical performances by some of Philly's finest - John Glaubitz, Mark d, Janice Rowland, Ted Wioncek, and headliner Ashley Phillips - also featuring, of course, a lovely and supportive audience! Thanks to all who came out to show the love!

Not getting any action this Valentine's Day? Then jump in the BCKSEET for Valentine's Day Sucks 3! This evening of rock and raffles to benefit Philly theatre company BCKSEET Productions will be held on Wednesday, February 14 at the Society Hill Playhouse's Red Room. As it has in years past, the musical bill will spotlight refreshing local talent, featuring Ashley Phillips ( www.myspace.com/ashleyphillipsband ), as well as Alex Radus (www.alexradus.com/home.html), mark d ( www.myspace.com/markdflipmusic), Janice Rowland (www.myspace.com/janicerowlandmusic), John Von Glaubitz (www.myspace.com/johnglaubitz ), Ted Wioncek (www.myspace.com/tedwioncekandnickmuni ), and emcee Anthony D'Amato (www.myspace.com/anthonydamato ).

The party starts at 8 PM, and the musical acts begin performing at 9 PM. Seating is general. Tickets are $25 and include a drink from the Red Room's bar, a raffle ticket for fabulous gift certificates and door prizes, and a compilation CD of Valentine's Day Sucks artists. Drink specials will also be offered throughout the evening. Tickets are available at the Society Hill Playhouse, located at 507 South 8th Street in Philadelphia, or by calling 215-923-0210.

Lance Davis (www.myspace.com/latebloom) and I are putting the final touches on my new record, "Love Me Like You Hate Me." I really can't wait to get it out to you all. Lance an amazing producer/engineer - just doing an incredible job. This album has been such a joy to record - I really hope not only our hard work but our passion for this project comes through in what you'll be hearing. Stay tuned for the release date!

Alex

A big thanks to the Lehigh Valley Music Awards for their nod this year. Congratulations to all the winners! My good friends Maria Woodford, Dave Cahill, Pete Lutz and Ian Thomas were nominated as well...check them all out at www.theirnames.com

Check out the awards at www.lvmusicawards.com and .org

of what sort of an adventure is calm? where does it yearn to know?
where does it yearn to be?

and where do its feet take it?
if it has feet. are they more obedient than my own?

would calm keep me in my bedroom - keep me from removing the sheets at night to place my feet on the floor?

my feet. over which i have or choose to exercise no control. they take me so many places with so little reason.

my unreasonable feet. who pain themselves to assuage my heart.

my feet do not make me stronger. they make me farther. but they try. their intentions are good. they kick out one after another, out and down. and my knees are accomplices. and my hips. each doing its part. pivoting dutifully. my torso must be inon it as well. for it twists slightly to and fro. my arms swing like silly pendulums when they're not coursing through the air, illuminating some corner of logic - revealing spider webs and useless brilliance. to this end my shoulders are employed as well.

my head dips and bobs. nods frequently. shakes on occasion and tosses its mane. and that great hole of piecemeal symbolism. that great rift of nonsense chatters on and on. steaming for its overuse. brimming over with delusional conjectures, imaginings. going over. coming back. taking note, returning later with a blank pad and no memory of being there.

the ground looks the same. but there - that elm. it wasn't there before but a few paces off. and then it was winter. a dead elm. yet here it is green with growth. but there are yellow leaves upon the ground. yellow everywhere and amber. cracking underneath these feet of mine that now plow their way through snow.

and have we a circle? no, christ. too easy, too easy. there must be something else, something i'm missing.

i'll see it soon.

just keep moving.

PART 2 OF PHILOSOPHY IS DUMB COMING SOON!

time's doing nothing but ticking
my feet want to fly but they're sticking
i'm gonna be right here
to see this through
i'm gonna be right here
i've got things to do
i'm gonna be right here
here until the end

and you can see my eyes
and call them blue
you can see my eyes
and call them blue
you can call them blue
i'm alright with the truth

there's no point in talking if you're lying
there's no point in talking if you're lying
and you talk so much
you talk every day
what are you saying now?

take all your memories and build a small town
get the hell out of your bedroom get on the street and walk around
you gotta build yourself
up from the ground
you gotta build yourself
up from the ground
and do it by yourself
no one said it wasn't hard

there's no point in living if you're dying
there's no point in living if you're dying
and you die so much
you die a little every day
what's the matter now?

put on your robe and grab your gavel
forget what you've been told
forget the apple

you gotta put your hands out in the dark
you gotta put your hands out in the dark
put out your hands
and feel your way around

you gotta see yourself and call it a spade
you gotta see yourself and call it a spade
you gotta see yourself
and not be afriad at all

and you can see my eyes and call them blue
you can see my eyes and call them blue
you can see my eyes and call them blue
it's alright.

alex's ep "the devil and the pumpkin" is now available for digital download at www.philafunk.com

also available (for the first time) is duende's 2-disc farewell concert. recorded at the legendary listening room Godfrey Daniels, the show spans duende's 5 year career, including many previously unreleased songs.

go to www.philafunk.com and browse for "alex!"

philafunk.com is an interesting new service I found down here in philadelphia...sort of myspace meets itunes. Check it out!

i'm just another fucked up person
a walking disaster
a whirling tornado

coming through your town
and fucking up buildings
picking up chevy's
throwing them through shop windows

somehow despite this
you've found reasons to love me
you love me so well
well i love you too then

angel of mercy
it barely describes you
you've got forgiveness
tatooed on your wings

when i was younger
i made a discovery
i found that i couldn't
trust in my memory

and laying there realizing
i could forget things
i thought 'i'm fucked. now
i'm really fucked up now'

cause A. did it happen
if i don't remember it
and B. if it did
then what was the point of it

and i started spinning
and gathered momentum
centrifugal force put my
back to the wall

27 years
and a handful of days
i've got a hole in me
the size of an earthquake

laying waste to everything in my path

27 years and a handful of days
i've got hole in me
the size of an earthquake

gathering speed with nowhere to go


look out this window
and tell me what you see
i see a cloud and a park
and an oak tree

but when some people
look out here
they see their destiny

i wish i was like that
i wish i was like that

so i keep trying to find myself
in the grand scheme of things
dressing like waldo
so i don't blend into anything

spinning in circles has its advantages
centrifugal force keeps your back to the wall

waking
into the great blank pre-dawn page
woman follows whim downstairs to the coffee maker

outside
a great milky canvas pulls itself over the
world

later
moonlight and mirror
finds a perfect sinuous line
hidden underneath a dress

1. Faulty Planning

Had I set out with one goal in mind, I suppose the evening would have been a smashing success. At the time it was easy to blame the liquor for all the bad touching and passing out, but I now maintain it was a case of faulty planning.

It is well known that even in a long and well nourished life there is a finite amount of food and beverage to be consumed. It then easily follows that there is a finite amount to be forcefully regurgitated.

In this case I should have vomited in Fresno.

But I was in New Orleans and little can be done to reconcile the two.

I had two goals.

One was to become as stinking drunk as possible. To this end I made quick work. The second goal was to maintain a sense of dignity and caution while drinking in an unpredictable and dangerous city.

After completion of the first goal I realized the second was in direct conflict and immediately abandoned it.

2. Sensitivity and Compassion

there were, as I see it, which is through a considerable fog, two main factors that lead to such faulty planning. I hadn't had a stiff drink in over three months. There are many that would say my mistakes began there and I would be inclined to agree. Another was the loss of 22 lbs in the same amount of time. Though my income suggested I limit my finite intake of nourishing meals, all this weight was not actually lost by me personally.

11.5 lbs had actually been erased in the form of my fat, sick cat, Mozart.

It would not be wholly inaccurate to say that my cat died of dysentary, but it would not be true either. Moreso my cat was killed because of his dysentary. Patience and compassion are frustrating virtues. For example, while entertaining guests one might find patience and compassion strained as an undeservedly sick and well-meaning cat drags a mountain of wet shit across the carpet in a noble, useless effort to put some of it in the litter box. I did not watch the guests leave. I did not pay for the professional carpet cleaners. And I did not say much of anything when mom off-handedly mentioned Mozart was dead.

3. Immediately Forgot

My companion was beautiful and sober, making her equally desireable and unattainable. I remember her saying something like, "You're drunk and out of control...please stop." A suggestion to which I enthusiastically agreed and immediately forgot. Two hours later while falling into some people I remembered this sage-like advice. It sounded very reasonable but unlikely to help at the time...so I decided to find a nice curb and vomit on it.

What happens next time? Find out in "Straw Hats!"