Saturday, December 29, 2007

A Chat with Hootie and the Blowfish: The Interview

In the world of modern music, bands arrive and disappear like sinking Titanics. However, there are those certain musical outfits that, despite their current obsoleteness, come up in conversation every now and then under the guise of “hey ,what ever happened to those guys?” Hootie and the Blowfish is the quintessential band that everyone kind of, sort of remembers. With their smooth beats, silky vocals and “cool enough to make your face explode” vibes, Hootie aided by the Blowfish can be reminisced about with the best of them, easily on par with Ace of Base and, to a lesser extent, Marcy Playground. You’d be hard pressed to flip through a karaoke book without finding “Only Want to Be With You”, then not singing it. “Holy My Hand” is a song that undoubtedly has been downloaded on Limewire countless times (three times). And who could forget “Let Her Cry”, besides mostly everyone? Truly, Hootie and the Blowfish have made their mark on fairly recent American music, according to their moms.
I was fortunate enough to catch up with Hootie and said associated Blowfish at an Arby’s, where they were all enjoying the same roast beef melt. They appeared to be in fine spirits, as Arby’s makes damn good roast beef melts. I pulled up a chair to their booth and shook each of their hands; they were all there – Hootie; Blowfish; Blowfish; Blowfish. With so many questions racing through my mind, I began the interview promptly.
Q: Before we begin I’d just like to say it’s an honor to be able to talk to you guys.
Hootie: Thanks man, it’s always great to be out of the house.
Blowfish 1: Plus, I’d had about enough of his mom’s cooking.
All: (laughter)
Q: So guys, is it tough to be Hootie and the Blowfish? I mean, do you still lead normal lives?
Blowfish with Hat: What’s considered normal, man, you know? I wake up every day like anyone else, and brush the hay off of myself like anyone else, and sneak off the farmer’s land like anyone else, and go through my neighbor’s trash like anyone else.
Hootie: It’s tough though man, it’s hard to go anywhere without not getting recognized.
Blowfish 1: Yeah, I totally know how the Beatles must have felt. You know, before they were famous.
Q: So Hootie…
Hootie: That’s not my name.
Q: It is. So Hootie, what have you been up to?
Hootie: Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time on some side projects – finger paintings, macaroni necklaces, that sort of thing. But you know, every now and then I like to kick back and just play some music. Unfortunately, my Phil Collins – The Hits tape is getting pretty worn out.
Q: I see, and how about the other Blowfish?
Blowfish with Hat: We have names, you know. For instance, my name’s Mark. Very few people know that.
Q: Well there’s a reason, no one gives a ***t’s ****.
Lazy Eye Blowfish: I for one have taken this little “career hiatus”, if you will, to spend more time with my kids. Well, not my kids, but some kids.
Q: So let me ask you this, why did you guys break up?
Blowfish 1: That’s an odd misconception people seem to have. We didn’t break up, we just kind of stopped.
Hootie: The record company stopped returning my calls, I mean…when I used to have a phone. We took a hint, but we’ve got some big plans for the future.
Lazy Eye Blowfish: Yeah, we’re going to turn “Only Wanna Be with You” into a Broadway musical. I didn’t think America was ready in 1997, but a lot’s changed since then. For instance, I can no longer afford gum.
Blowfish with Hat: We’ve also been trying to use Hootie and the Blowfish name to launch a successful line of contraceptives. So get ready for Hootie and the Blowfish Custom Douches!
Q: Now I want to address Hootie for a minute here.
Hootie: My name’s Darius! Darius! Not Hootie!
Q: Oh is Darius like your stage name?
Hootie: No, it’s my real name. I was never “Hootie”.
Q: Oh I get it; have to remain covert in public. I’m still going to be calling you Hootie, because I like saying the word Hootie.
Hootie: (expletives)
Q: Is it tough as the leader of the band, to carry this legacy with you?
Blowfish with Hat: I’ll field this one. Yeah, it’s really tough to walk through a gas station on a Sunday afternoon, and see your Grammy winning album on sale at the register for $0.75 next to the matches, which cost a dollar. I mean, there’s your face on the cover, and you feel like when the owner kicks you out for drinking YooHoo’s and putting them back, he’s going to recognize you and start some awkward fan conversation. Luckily it never happens. Maybe the next gas station.
Q: Now, rumor has it that there is a “lost” member of Hootie and the Blowfish?
Blowfish with Hat: Yeah, that’s pretty much all of us.
Q: So do you guys have any favorite songs of yours?
Hootie: Probably “Only Wanna Be With You”, as along with most of America, it’s the only song of ours I remember.
Blowfish 1: Yeah, I agree. Did we do any other songs?
Lazy Eye Blowfish: I’m very partial to our early work, like the first half of “Only Wanna Be With You”. By our later period, you can really sense the disenchantment within the group, say about the last minute of the song. Then there was our “psychedelic phase” from about 1:13-2:38. Less said about that, the better.
Q: Where do you guys think you fit in to the music scene of today?
Hootie: Well I personally feel that right now we’re kind of on the sidelines, cheering the participants on.
Blowfish 1: We’re kind of a looming threat though, you know? I mean, current musicians probably are shaking in their boots thinking “Oh geez, I hope Hootie and the Blowfish don’t come back. Their silky smooth vibes will knock us right off the charts and probably end my career. Man I’m really scared. My name is Maroon 5!”
Lazy Eye Blowfish: And we don’t want to rock the boat.
Q: Fair enough. I want to ask you about the meaning of some of your lyrics. In “Only Wanna Be With You”, you wrote “Sometimes you’re crazy/And you wonder why/I’m such a baby yeah/The dolphins make me cry”.
Hootie: Yeah, those words are my babies. My poetic, awesome babies.
Q: Did the “dolphins” represent orphaned African babies during that strife filled era of genocide during the early nineties?
Hootie: No. I’m terrified of dolphins.
Q: If you had one message to send to America, what would it be?
Blowfish with Hat: I would definitely say – Hey everyone, dig peace, love and understanding. Music is beautiful.
Hootie: I’d say believe in the power of love.
Lazy Eye Blowfish: I’d say if you have any spare clothing or towels, please donate them to me so I can use them for blankets and pillows. Winter’s coming, after all.
Q: One more thing guys, before I go – how about a song?
Hootie: Song? Oh right, we were musicians. Mark, stop hogging that sandwich!
Blowfish with Hat: I’m the “hungry one” of the band, remember? I’m notorious!
Hootie: (slaps Blowfish with Hat)
Blowfish with Hat: (slaps Hootie)
Blowfish 1: Quit it, you guys! This is why we can’t do nice things! Well, this and the fact that we all have single digit salaries.
Q: Well I think I’m just about out of questions guys. Uh…I guess thanks for this.
Blowfish 1: Oh it’s been our pleasure.
Hootie: Now we have a question for you.
Q: Sure, shoot.
Hootie: Uh…can we have a ride home?

Sunday, December 9, 2007

The Weekly Reader

Greetings connoisseurs of the printed English word, and thank you for picking up the latest in The Weekly Reader (pronounced “reed”er). For those of you looking to dig your eyes into a thick, succulent novel, you’ve arrived at the right place. I’m sorry I never got answered the letters of all my loyal readers last week complaining about my scathing review of “The Encyclopedia Britannica Volume 6. GE-HI”, but I simply did not at all care for the characters of Germany and William Henry Harrison. They just were not likeable, and I stand my ground on that stance. In journalism school, they always teach you to stick to your point and that’s the one I’m adhering myself to. But enough about the past, on to this week’s batch of readables! (pronounced “red”ables)
Though the publisher’s mentioned something to me over the phone about a shipping mistake, I nevertheless received their box of five books promptly on Wednesday. Now as you all may know, Wednesday is usually the day I walk Hortonstance. As you also all may know, Hortonstance is my favorite pet ferret, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway ,I decided to leave Hortonstance constipated this week and dive right into this cornucopia of creamy wordly goodness. Ready to read, readers? (pronounced “red”y to “reed”, “read”ers)
I propped my feet up on the nearest available ottoman and cuddled next to my favorite bed light and cracked open the first novel on which I could lay my grubby mitts – The Bonesetter’s Daughter by Amy Tan. The story follows the life of Ruth a San Francisco career woman who makes her living by ghostwriting self-help books. She has little idea of her mother's past or true identity. What's more, their relationship has tended to be an angry one. Still, Ruth recognizes the onset of LuLing's decline--along with her own remorse over past rancor--and hires a translator to decipher some mysterious packets. She also resolves to "ask her mother to tell her about her life. For once, she would ask. She would listen. She would sit down and not be in a hurry or have anything else to do."And as she did in her earlier The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan uses these conflicts to explore the intricate dynamic that exists between first-generation Americans and their immigrant elders. A lot more stuff happens too, but I don’t want to spoil any surprises, and invite you to investigate for yourself –for Chinese-related adventure awaits with this thrilling read!
My reading skills were next given free rein to stretch their bony arms with the next novel in this week’s batch, The Bonesetter’s Daughter by another author, seemingly also named Any Tan. The story follows the life of Ruth, a San Francisco career woman who makes her living by ghostwriting self-help books. She has little idea of her mother’s past or true identity. What’s more, their relationship has tended to be an angry one. One would suspect that if I enjoyed one Chinese ghost writer-related novel, I would enjoy another. Not so. Alas, The Bonesetter’s Daughter did not tickle my fancy bones the way they had been tickled with The Bonesetter’s Daughter. I wonder if Amy Tan 1 realizes that she has a sound-alike competitor writing novels with the same name, cover, plotlines and characters. Either way, Granted, the bar was set relatively high, so a letdown was almost inevitable. Still, a valiant effort by Amy Tan 2.0. Ah well, no matter – we press on.
The third bookly volume that I had the pleasure of visually deciphering via means of piecing together a series of words and their respective meanings was the Amy Tan’s novel The Bonesetter’s Daughter. The story follows the life of Ruth, a San Francisco career woman who makes her living by ghostwriting self-help books. She has little idea of her mother’s past or true identity. Though this is clearly an age-old tale as old as time, the repetition and lack of originality sticks out like a sore thumb on a bloated marmoset. Now perhaps it is unfair to Amy Tan 3 that I’ve read Amy Tan 1 and 2’s book first, and the comparison is inevitable. But hey, if life wasn’t unfair, I’d have won that Babylon 5 lunchbox on ebay and not been outbid at the last minute by user “spankyNY95”. I have nothing left to say about this story, except that I don’t like it and it’s smelly. We press on.
The forth binded assortment of printed pages that I often refer to as “book” throws some diversity into the mix, and is a welcome departure in this somewhat monotonous series of “books”. I was delighted to unwrap this hardcover edition of The Bonesetter’s Daughter by Amy Tan, who I will refer to here as Amy Tan IV, because Roman numerals make me feel rich. While the story was nearly identical to the previous three (the middle third contains a surprising twist involving Ms. Frumption’s independent jockstrap company), I did find that this book was a much better instrument for killing the cockroaches in my apartment.
At this stage in any reviewer’s process, he is tired, cranky, sick of reading, and full of valium. Needless to say, I was in dire need of a pickup after this very mixed bunch of books by various Amy Tans. Let me tell you, my prayers were answered by the unlikeliest of sources – The Bonesetter’s Daughter by an author whose work I initially thought I was unfamiliar with – Amy Ta. However, after further investigation, I realized the bottom left flap was folded over. Mending this revealed that in fact, an Amy Tan v.5 had exploded onto the novel writing arena. Let me tell you, this up and comer is truly promising, as this tale had me at the edge of my seat during the entire read, though I’m sure the valium had something to do with it. Every page was like a roller coaster hijacked by a drunk, seizure-prone terrorist. I simply could not put this masterwork of literary brilliance down, and I give it my coveted nine thumbs up rating. Amy Tan-tastic! So, in summation, The Bonesetter’s Daughter was way better than The Bonesetter’s Daughter, but could not achieve the dizzying heights established by The Bonesetter’s Daughter. On the other hand, The Bonesetter’s Daughter is worth a look if you find it lying in a dumpster somewhere, and The Bonesetter’s Daughter is suitable for only lining the bottom of ferret cages. Alright, hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s edition of The Weekly Reader. Stay tuned next week when I review a bunch of novels all called A Thousand Splendid Suns.

Mike's Writer's Strike Memory Scrapbook

Let’s face it gang, the life of a Letterman page is anything but easy. However, we all enjoy being there and the experience is something that we will cherish always in our lives. Forever. However, everyone in the Letterman page program has been thrown a curve with the current writer’s strike – putting us in a very strange, disenchanted position. During this timultuous period, I decided to keep a memory scrapbook so I can capture this exact strike-filled time of my life for future reminicing sessions. Here now, is Mike Hadge’s Writer’s Strike Memory Scrapbook. …

Strike Day 1: Wow, so I got a call from Jennifer Ray today, telling me that the writer’s have gone on strike and that we won’t be working for the next couple of days. Sweet – 4 day weekend! Nice! Time to get my biz-ooze on.

Strike Day 3: Okay, got another call from Jennifer Ray today, letting me know that we’re not going to be working for the rest of the week. Okay, that’s cool – it just gives me the week off. Suh-weet ass! Time to get my biz-eer on!

Strike Day 5: Man, this time off is great. I’ve got to catch up with some old friends, and watch some old Tivo’d episodes of Pushing Daisies. Ha, guess I won’t be falling behind on that show during this writer’s strike. It was great, I didn’t even wear socks today! Wow, I don’t think any bad could possibly come out of this strike. It’s like I get a free vacation with a job just waiting for me in the meantime! Awesome! Gtg, gotta go get my biz-udwiser on!

Strike Day 6: Omg, I haven’t gone outside in like three days, can you believe it? Lol.

Strike Day 7: Um…so…we’re not working for the next few days, either apparently. Thanks to Jennifer Ray for letting me know so soon, so at least, I mean, I can make plans for the next week. This break is a tad bit longer then I’d originally expected but hey, it’ll be…fun…fine…fun and fine. I’m sure the writer’s will work something out before long and we’ll be back in the saddle in no time. It’s cool though, I didn’t even have to wear pants today! Oh that reminds me, I have a shindig with the other pages tomorrow - gotsta set my alarm for 2:30PM, bright and early.

Strike Day 9: Man, I hope we get back soon, I’m getting a little antsy. I mean, I randomly asked a woman for her ID on the street today, just to make sure she was over 18 – she was. (Still got it!) Also, I saw a homeless man in the subway clapping to the beat of his own nonsensical ramblings for spare change. That man makes more money than I currently do.

Strike Day 10: Money has gotten a bit tighter than normal – who knew a $200 check could go such a long way? – but I’ve taken it as an opportunity to be a bit more creative. For instance, for lunch today I invented a dish I like to call processed American Cheese Surprise. Well, it’s really just American cheese…but it’s on a napkin. Surprise! Free life is still sweet though…I rewatched some of those Pushing Daisies episodes just to see if there were any jokes I’d missed the first time. There weren’t. Check this out though – I didn’t even put a shirt on today! Rock and roll!

Strike Day 11: What day of the week is it? Isn’t that so funny, I don’t even know anymore! I drank for the 12th day in a row at this point, but it’s not a problem or anything. It’s just casual, I could stop whenever I want. Stop looking at me like that, scrapbook! Well, it’s 5:30 in the AM, bout time I retired to my quarters.

Strike Day 12: Someone wrote on my facebook wall this morning, that was kinda cool. Also, I got a neat email ad for 20% off an item at Borders with my rewards card. Things are starting to turn around, methinks . I feel like any day now we’ll be right back in the game, yeah, anytime now Jennifer Ray will call with fantastic news! I’m sure of it! Also, wore nothing today.

Strike Day 12 (updated after call): Alright, not working for another…week….stay strong…breathe…

Strike Day 13: Rolled out of bed at 3:46PM – just in time to see the sunset! My breakfast today was remembering a time when I had a Nutrigrain bar. Yes, remembering it. But things may turn around – there have been rumors that Letterman is planning on paying his entire staff until the strike is over! Finally, a change of luck!

Strike Day 14: Jk.

Strike Day 15: I’d have shaved today, but I can’t recall the specifics of the procedure. Lord, I would choke a nun to be able to tell someone to put away their cell phone. Is that so much to ask? Got another call from someone congratulating me on getting paid during the strike. It was the first time I’d called my grandmother a c*******ing s*** c*** ***hole.

Strike Day 16: Woke up, checked email, ate, retired to quarters.

Strike Day 17: Woke up, cried, retired to quarters.

Strike Day 18: Woke up, retired to quarters.

Strike Day 19: Retired to quarters.

Strike Day 20: Chckled emale..noshowz..thanksgivisxk….contempl8ing peacvecorrr…..

Strike Day 21: (Page in scrapbook eaten)

Strike Day 22: (writing not legible…but smells like seizures.)

Strike Day 23: (crude drawings of ugly stick figures holding picket signs with the word “righters” and an arrow pointing to them, there are also stink lines coming up from said stick figures. It’s all just very immature, really)

Strike Day 24: lalala

Strike Day 25: All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boyAll strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy All strike and no page makes Hadge a dull boy