Great thanks to the folks who came out to support Songwriter’s Square this past month. We featured the excellent vocals and guitar wizardry of Ali Handal, the grizzled folk and blues of James Houlahan and the always entertaining and hilarious David Lucky.
We also recorded the show for an upcoming podcast! (Keep yer eyes and ears open!) See a ton of fun photos from the show HERE. -BB

I was driving in my truck, which is where I do most of my music listening. The volume on the radio was down because I’d been on the phone (using a hands-free device, of course). The call had been over for some minutes when I suddenly became aware of an infectious groove somewhere in the cabin. “What’s that?” I thought, as I reached hungrily for the volume knob.

It was Houlahan’s new CD, Multitudes, which I’d left in the player the night before.

I turned it up. The song was “Rock Star (Dedicated to the Ruined Heroes of the Sunset Strip).” I danced along to it, as much as one can dance and still stay between the lines on the road.

Don’t be fooled by that song title: Houlahan’s groove is anything but hair metal. What you get instead are choice bits of late-sixties Dylan, Let It Be, Let It Bleed, early Creedence, the clanking of Rain Dogs-era Tom Waits, and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot-era Wilco noise.

James Houlahan blends his influences with a strong melodic sense and vivid imagery to create a strong (and sometimes strange) brew: a trumpet duets with a violin over throbbing bass and distorted vocal on “Mystery Earth Song”; a grinding slide guitar fights to escape an angry beehive on “Marcy’s Lament”; and fat, seventies lead-guitar wailing blots out the string section on “Rock Star.”

Lyrically, Houlahan’s lines have an almost biblical or mythical sense of mystery and beauty, such as in “Mystery Earth Song,” where he sings of how “from my chest grew a purple rose that fire could not destroy.” His imagery captures the imagination while his music tickles the backbone.

Multitudes swings and intrigues. You might even shed a tear. (I did.)

We’re all chasing numbers: ticket sales for a concert, views of our YouTube videos, CD sales, ranking in Reverbnation, subscribers to our newsletters or mailing lists, likes on Facebook, followers on Twitter, contributions to a fan-funded campaign, endless variations on 8 notes.
The best way to boost our own numbers is to reach out to a friend and boost theirs – the reciprocal action is magical.
Streetlight Cadence, (above) a young quartet I discovered at a music conference, is nominated for EIGHT separate Nā Hōkū Hanohano awards for their THIRD album done with a Kickstarter campaign that raised FIFTEEEN THOUSAND dollars. One category is Entertainer of the Year. That’s a fan-voted award, one per email address until May 6. Please vote NOW! They’re also asking all fans to sign up and boost their video likes in AireLive an online/app music popularity/fan contest with a $300,000 cash prize that could pay their rent for a year. Deets in this quick YouTube tutorial.
Did you know that YouTube has free production facilities right here in LA for anyone with 10,000 subscribers? I’m at 856 right now and could use just a hair over NINE THOUSAND more. Please click and subscribe.  NSFW, don’t open with young or offendable ears around.
Did you know that the Lyric Hyperion seats 60 people? If you’re headed to the May Songwriter’s Square show, invite a friend. NO EMPTY SEATS!
Britta Lee Shain, she of the brand new memoir about her life and love with Bob Dylan in the late 1980s, is a twitter newbie. Please show her some love in the twitterverse right here. She’s got a brand new music CD coming out at the very same time. That girl has been putting in 20 HOUR days for months. Let’s show her some LA love.

I was working on a new song recently that I just knew was a man’s story. He – the singer inside my head – sang, “Just tryin’ to be a better man.” It fit the line in my verse just right and held the meaning of the song. The only problem was I knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable performing the song. And it was a good song that I wanted to perform.

So I found ways to neuter the song, to tell the same story but without it needing to say “a better man.” I played the revised version for a friend and asked if it felt more like a man or woman’s story. She said, “It’s definitely a woman’s story.” LOL. The entire time I was writing and recording a rough demo, I was still hearing that man singing inside my head. What made it a woman’s story to my friend? Was it the mention of not liking snow? Or hating rodeos? What made it a man’s song to me? Being stubborn? Who knows?

These days, I see a lot of emphasis placed on writing authentic stories. Stories that ‘ring true’ in a personal way. I like it when one of my songs can evoke feeling from a listener – any listener. But since I can’t experience everything in this world, I’ve come up with a mantra for my songwriting. Write authentic fiction. Authentic fiction is a story you make up – but decorate with familiar realism.

So the next time you write a song, here’s a prompt. Take a walk on the wild side and write from the perspective of the opposite sex. Just be as authentic as you can as you tell your fictional tale.

My very good friend and imminent superstar, Rod Melancon (above), has a new video and new album, LA 14. Watching the video for “Perry” put me in mind of how this all got started.

Yes, I was there when Video Killed the Radio Star.

It was the early 80s and I was working as a nightclub DJ in Houston, Texas, for a national chain (McFaddin-Ventures) that pioneered the cavernous nightclub concept with Élan and then Confetti (both would go on to inspire The Palladium in NYC). At Confetti, we weren’t just DJs, we were artists; mixing rock into disco into country into oldies into punk—and having it all make sense. Our inspiration was a guy named Grif Palmer, a native Texan who’d gone to LA, completely absorbed the KROQ culture and had been lured back to Houston to serve as Program Director for all MV DJs.

Grif was (and still is) tall, handsome and charismatic as all get-out. He had a fearless, swaggering cocksurety about him when he’d say things like: “I’m gonna slam into Tainted Love and you’re gonna go crazy.” This was hardcore, Technic 1200 turntable vinyl-mixing. My fellow DJ pal Wyatt Magnum and I emulated Grif’s ability to seamlessly keep a dancefloor going by using, say, the moment where Fee Waybill in Talk to Ya Later by The Tubes sings: “I’ll just see you arouuuuuuuuund—!” to slide into the drum intro of I Fought the Law by The Bobby Fuller Four. Then, on the cold end of I Fought the Law, execute a flawless BPM backflip-downshift to London Calling by The Clash, followed a disco segue into Let it Whip by The Dazz Band. You get the idea.

Music videos were all the rage. ZZ Top frontman and longtime Houstonian Billy Gibbons was rumored to have written the entire Eliminator album, while sitting right outside the Confetti DJ booth. Every Friday night MTV would have a “world premiere” of a new music video. Thriller by Michael Jackson blew everyone’s mind. Some videos were dynamic and highly cinematic—Summer of ’69 by Bryan Adams, for example. Others cost about 75¢ to make—but were amazing (B-52s, Yello—a lot of Chroma Key, greenscreen). Videos from songs/groups in the 50s, 60s and 70s were rescued from obscurity and brought into the mix. We mixed videos in and out of records; Grif came up with the idea of video and audio “comedy drops” from movies, standup comedy and TV. It was off the hook and wild.

“I’m not a jukebox,” Grif would say, “I’m an artist. I create—the dancefloor is my palette.” We all wanted to be just like him.

So, when the local QUBE Cable affiliate held auditions at Confetti for a “local host” to do two-minute hourly news segments about the local music scene, I was shocked when I beat out my mentor, Grif. But Grif was magnanimous and said “Congrats! You’re gonna be great, Doc.” (That was my DJ handle, Doc Roc—I’m still trying to live that down.) They also selected a female co-host named June (who’s on-air name was June Sparks) but she soon left.

QUBE caught a little flak from MTV Corporate for what they were doing. But MTV quickly realized that having a “reporter in the field” (me) could be advantageous. I began interviewing acts passing through town like Ratt, Romeo Void, Patty Smyth of Scandal (I’m still infatuated), Adam Ant, Deep Purple—it was quite an ego trip. My segments aired nationally—but never with me in the frame. Locally, however, it was my show every hour on the hour. I’d get recognized in public. I had an MTV silk jacket. I met Martha Quinn. She and I were fellow “VJs.”

After a couple of years, my boss at MTV (Doug Herzog) called on the morning of December 31^st, 1984, and said, “Hey, we’re starting up a sister channel for MTV tomorrow called VH-1. It’s like a grown-up version of MTV. But we have zero news segments in the can. Willie Nelson’s doing his New Year’s show at the Summit—why don’t you go down and cover the press conference at noon?” My co-producer and best friend Michael (“McDog”) McDugald and I dutifully dashed down to the Summit and said, “We’re with MTV.” They looked at my silk jacket and let us in.

We covered the press conference, which was a big yawn, and hung out for the sound check. No one booted us (“We’re from MTV!”). I asked if we could interview Willie for “the new MTV channel.” They said, “Sure, you want to interview Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash too?”

Now, let me explain something. When I became a nightclub DJ, I left my dreams of being a singer-songwriter behind. It just didn’t seem like a viable career path anymore. I couldn’t beat ‘em so I joined ‘em. Willie, Waylon, Johnny and Kris were skeptical when they saw me with my MTV silk jacket—but I had been preparing my whole life for this moment. I asked questions and referenced songs, events and artists that pretty much blew their minds. Johnny Cash especially warmed to me and shared a story about Kris Kristofferson landing a helicopter in his front yard in order to hand off his demo tape. I recently saw this now legendary event in the annals of songwriting reenacted on the TV show Drunk History. But I was the one who broke that story nationally and it was the first news story ever to air on VH-1. (We covered lots of ground that night, here’s a sample.)

At one point, I mentioned to Willie (on the bus, in a cloud of herb) that I’d played many Austin bars back in the day while attending the University of Texas. He asked, “Do you happen to have any songs I need to hear?” In that moment I realized that I very much needed to get back to songwriting—music industry trends be damned. I realized how much I missed it and how much I hated spinning records by The Thompson Twins. Within the year, the Texas economy tanked, I fled to LA and found further work as a DJ and as a VJ on The Movietime Channel alongside Greg Kinnear and Richard Blade. But from then on I reclaimed my dream to be a singer/songwriter and when the coffeehouse resurgence of the 90s hit, I was more than ready. Thanks, Willie.

Grif Palmer became a big wheel in stage lighting and sound; Wyatt Magnum filled in for me on a couple of MTV assignments and is now CEO of the LA-based The Magnum Music Group; McDog is a wizard in home automation; Billy Gibbons is a gazillionaire who lives not far from me. The night Confetti Houston closed down for good, Wyatt Magnum and I made a tape called “The Night Confetti Died” with all our patented “Pop-Slamma-Jamma-Segues.” Billy Gibbons can be faintly heard in the background banging on the door—he’d heard us playing all these oldies and wanted to hang out by the booth, but club was shuttered, the doors were locked and we couldn’t hear him. Sorry about that, Billy.

Not sure what became of Doug Herzog—oh yeah, he’s President of a little outfit called Viacom.

MTV and VH-1 are out of the music video business. But their influence is still strongly felt on YouTube and the Internet.

Which leads us back to the super-talented Rod Melancon. The video for Perry is damn good. Rod is damn good. He’s on track to become one of those rarities: heartthrob good looks and genuine singing/songwriting talent. He’s doing a “Residency” every Monday night during the month of May at The Silverlake Lounge. Go see him live and download his free EP.

Tell him, “I want my MTV.” And that Doc Roc sent ya.