Sunday, December 17, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
It's been a long time (c) Rakim
Yeah, I know. But holla at a player when you see me in the streets. Been running around and haven't really had much time (or haven't taken the time) to update this site. I'll be better. I'm gonna start going to some Clips games again pretty soon, so that'll give me more pics and strange stories, presumably.
Couldn't sleep last night (probably on some post-Thanksgiving "itis" (c) Dave Chappelle) and stumbled down stairs at 3am to watch HBO. Stumbled across the old movie called Myra Breckenridge starring Raquel Welch. What a strange film. This trailer gives you a little insight.
Basically Raquel plays this dude who had a sex change and comes back to wreak havoc on his old crew, trying to blur the lines between what makes a man a man and what makes a woman a woman. Movie was mad disturbing and mean-spirited and not even really entertaining, and yet, between Raquel's fine self and a young Farrah Fawcett (playing -- you guessed it -- a naive blonde) your boy couldn't stop watching. Plus, it had a little bit of Hollywood trivia in it: the great director John Huston playing her/his uncle, a creepy looking Mae West playing a singer and future film critic Rex Reed playing the male version of Raquel.
For those who've been asking, the album is done. Mark 1 is working on the final mix and it's going to be called Sunshine in October. I'll be back to talk about each song individually later but for now, here's a track listing.
1. Intro
2. Make Your Body Move
3. The Do-Over
4. Avondale Aphrodite feat. Cedric Clark
5. Around My Way feat. Sonny Blaq & Trenekia Danielle
6. Special Lady
7. Work to Do
8. The 25th Hour
9. Somethin' Wicked This Way Comes
10. Ridin' (Thru Ya Hood Tonite)
11. UFO
12. Sunshine in October
12 songs strong. I'm really proud of it. Hopefully, we can start getting some MP3s up pretty soon, so you can hear it.
Otherwise, just chilling. I'm about to have my own podcast pretty soon, so be on the lookout for that. Right now, it looks like I'll be reading some of my old Intrepid articles, a la some of my classic gigs at Karma Coffeehouse from a year ago. Speaking of Intrepid, my latest piece "Awkward Moments" just came out last week.
I heart John Legend. My love for the song "Maxine" is beginning to border on obsession.
And the mystery of why so few black people found their way to a Seinfeld set suddenly becomes clearer.
RIP to a great, great film director, Robert Altman.
One.
Couldn't sleep last night (probably on some post-Thanksgiving "itis" (c) Dave Chappelle) and stumbled down stairs at 3am to watch HBO. Stumbled across the old movie called Myra Breckenridge starring Raquel Welch. What a strange film. This trailer gives you a little insight.
Basically Raquel plays this dude who had a sex change and comes back to wreak havoc on his old crew, trying to blur the lines between what makes a man a man and what makes a woman a woman. Movie was mad disturbing and mean-spirited and not even really entertaining, and yet, between Raquel's fine self and a young Farrah Fawcett (playing -- you guessed it -- a naive blonde) your boy couldn't stop watching. Plus, it had a little bit of Hollywood trivia in it: the great director John Huston playing her/his uncle, a creepy looking Mae West playing a singer and future film critic Rex Reed playing the male version of Raquel.
For those who've been asking, the album is done. Mark 1 is working on the final mix and it's going to be called Sunshine in October. I'll be back to talk about each song individually later but for now, here's a track listing.
1. Intro
2. Make Your Body Move
3. The Do-Over
4. Avondale Aphrodite feat. Cedric Clark
5. Around My Way feat. Sonny Blaq & Trenekia Danielle
6. Special Lady
7. Work to Do
8. The 25th Hour
9. Somethin' Wicked This Way Comes
10. Ridin' (Thru Ya Hood Tonite)
11. UFO
12. Sunshine in October
12 songs strong. I'm really proud of it. Hopefully, we can start getting some MP3s up pretty soon, so you can hear it.
Otherwise, just chilling. I'm about to have my own podcast pretty soon, so be on the lookout for that. Right now, it looks like I'll be reading some of my old Intrepid articles, a la some of my classic gigs at Karma Coffeehouse from a year ago. Speaking of Intrepid, my latest piece "Awkward Moments" just came out last week.
I heart John Legend. My love for the song "Maxine" is beginning to border on obsession.
And the mystery of why so few black people found their way to a Seinfeld set suddenly becomes clearer.
RIP to a great, great film director, Robert Altman.
One.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Who Dey?
Last night, while I was gagging over Notre Dame's comeback win over Michigan State, I was at DJ Mark 1's place going over some of the songs that we plan to record. I had written to a beat CD he gave me and I outlined four songs for him, "Make Your Body Move," "Something Wicked This Way Comes," "UFO" and "Avondale Aphrodite." The last two are holdovers from the late 90s, but they're hip-hop classics in my mind and I want them to get their day on wax. I'll keep you posted, but it's looking like a match made in heaven right now.
Amped that my Bengals held it down against them garbage Steelers. (Plus Carson and T.J.'s multi-touchdown days will look good on my fantasy league.) Speaking of Pittsburgh, I stumbled across news of a tribute to this Steel City icon. I was always indifferent to Warhol's art but one of the last things I did was take a trip to his museum in downtown Pittsburgh. For an artsy cat like me, that was a cool experience. More Pittsburgh discussions: pray for the Duquesne basketball players that were shot a week back. As details are unfolding, it's looking more and more suspect for the woman that let the shooters in. I just remember when I was at Pitt, local thugs were ALWAYS turning up at parties, running game to our chicks, etc.
It's like that scene in School Daze when local cat Samuel L. Jackson and his flunkies was hating on Laurence Fishburne (who looked too old to be in college even back then) just for being young black college kids. I just wish young brothers could learn to respect one another's hustle. Whether you running the classrooms or the streets, I feel like we all in the same struggle.
The Whitney Houston-Osama bin Laden "love story" is taking another strange turn. First, Whitney leaves Bobby to join bin Laden's herum, now we come to find out this fool might be dead? Maybe Bobby's got more pull than we thought. Or maybe (and this is more likely), the rumors of bin Laden's demise have been greatly exaggerated. I was just kidding about Whitney leaving to join Osama's herum. But it sounds logical.
And speaking of bin Laden, how long does Bill Clinton have to be out of office before Republicans stop blaming him for everything I know Clinton and the Democrats have done some crooked mess too, but really, the hate for this cat is relentless and unnecessary. Political parties is like gangbanging, straight up.
You have to catch Katt Williams' HBO special ASAP. Another talented Ohio cat (that's right, Dayton is in the house this time) taking the entertainment field by storm. He riffs on Michael Jackson, Hollywood politics, getting shot -- and a whole host of other topics non-stop. I just wish it had been longer. Straight up hilarious. The Michael Jackson part alone is genius. There's a new sheriff in town.
Amped that my Bengals held it down against them garbage Steelers. (Plus Carson and T.J.'s multi-touchdown days will look good on my fantasy league.) Speaking of Pittsburgh, I stumbled across news of a tribute to this Steel City icon. I was always indifferent to Warhol's art but one of the last things I did was take a trip to his museum in downtown Pittsburgh. For an artsy cat like me, that was a cool experience. More Pittsburgh discussions: pray for the Duquesne basketball players that were shot a week back. As details are unfolding, it's looking more and more suspect for the woman that let the shooters in. I just remember when I was at Pitt, local thugs were ALWAYS turning up at parties, running game to our chicks, etc.
It's like that scene in School Daze when local cat Samuel L. Jackson and his flunkies was hating on Laurence Fishburne (who looked too old to be in college even back then) just for being young black college kids. I just wish young brothers could learn to respect one another's hustle. Whether you running the classrooms or the streets, I feel like we all in the same struggle.
The Whitney Houston-Osama bin Laden "love story" is taking another strange turn. First, Whitney leaves Bobby to join bin Laden's herum, now we come to find out this fool might be dead? Maybe Bobby's got more pull than we thought. Or maybe (and this is more likely), the rumors of bin Laden's demise have been greatly exaggerated. I was just kidding about Whitney leaving to join Osama's herum. But it sounds logical.
And speaking of bin Laden, how long does Bill Clinton have to be out of office before Republicans stop blaming him for everything I know Clinton and the Democrats have done some crooked mess too, but really, the hate for this cat is relentless and unnecessary. Political parties is like gangbanging, straight up.
You have to catch Katt Williams' HBO special ASAP. Another talented Ohio cat (that's right, Dayton is in the house this time) taking the entertainment field by storm. He riffs on Michael Jackson, Hollywood politics, getting shot -- and a whole host of other topics non-stop. I just wish it had been longer. Straight up hilarious. The Michael Jackson part alone is genius. There's a new sheriff in town.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Septembro
What's happening? Been so busy, my head's been spinning. The main development in my life is our new home-based business. No B.S., we made our initial investment back in, like, a week. If you're trying to get out of your day job, or just need some extra money to pay that car note, holla at me. I've seen the light.
Working on some songs, r&b and pop as well as my long awaited collabo with DJ Mark 1. I'm actually going to start writing for that on Wednesday. I got a rejection for the short from the Hollywood Film Festival today. I'm numb to rejections now. I know how my work affects the streets and regular people who are tired of the okey-doke. My time will come. It's just a matter who wants to make money first.
Speaking of which, why didn't y'all go see Idlewild? Me and wifey saw it twice. That movie was amazing. Quit sleeping. And get off your butts and go cop that Game Theory while you at it.
Happy cause I just saw them wack Steelers get shut out by Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, er, I mean, Jacksonville.
(You know Leftwich look like the world's most famous Scientologist rapper.)
Things are going well, just hectic. Between the writing, the day job, the new business, the commute and home life. But just wanted to drop in to say hello.
Damn, EVERYBODY'S downsizing.
Working on some songs, r&b and pop as well as my long awaited collabo with DJ Mark 1. I'm actually going to start writing for that on Wednesday. I got a rejection for the short from the Hollywood Film Festival today. I'm numb to rejections now. I know how my work affects the streets and regular people who are tired of the okey-doke. My time will come. It's just a matter who wants to make money first.
Speaking of which, why didn't y'all go see Idlewild? Me and wifey saw it twice. That movie was amazing. Quit sleeping. And get off your butts and go cop that Game Theory while you at it.
Happy cause I just saw them wack Steelers get shut out by Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, er, I mean, Jacksonville.
(You know Leftwich look like the world's most famous Scientologist rapper.)
180x180.jpg)
Things are going well, just hectic. Between the writing, the day job, the new business, the commute and home life. But just wanted to drop in to say hello.
Damn, EVERYBODY'S downsizing.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
What I'm listening to
It's been an interesting summer with so much more on tap as we head into fall. On the horizon loom new albums from OutKast, The Roots, Lupe Fiasco, Mos Def, Common and others that I love. There's so few cats I'm genuinely feeling nowadays, I get excited when the ones I'm supporting actually put out new stuff. Partially thanks to a mini-CD spree I had at Best Buy lately and partially thanks to another raid of my sisters' old, left-behind LPs back at my mom's crib, this is what the kid's been on lately.
Pharrell -- In My Mind
It took me a couple spins to really appreciate but it's been getting heavy rotation in the Silver Bullet since I came back from Ohio. I've heard people saying this album isn't quite what they expected, but I think people just like to complain. I mean, he gave you the deceptively simplistic synthezied beats, he rhymed about Ice Cream, BBC and the seemingly endless parade of models who love his dirty draws. You want cameos, he gave 'em to you: Jay-Z, Nelly, Slim Thug, Snoop, Kanyeeze. So what if half the album sounds like Michael Jackson circa 1981? A lot of contemporary R&B is going in that direction. You think Beyonce's new album is gonna sound any different? You think Justin Timberlake's new album is gonna sound any different? And since when is sounding like the album that Mike woulda dropped between Off the Wall and Thriller a bad thing. A lot of Maroon 5's Songs About Jane sound like outtakes from Dangerous and that album went triple platinum!
Also gaining this album major cool points is track 13, "Our Father," the most sincere "thankyouforlovingmeJesuseventhoughI'mascrewup" song this side of Donny Hathaway's "Lord Help Me."
Corinne Bailey Rae -- Corinne Bailey Rae
I cannot stop listening to this album. I was semi-skeptical initially. Determined not to dig the first single, "Like A Star," even though VH-1 Soul kept playing it non-stop. Convinced that her whole persona was just a ploy by the government to distract me from the war in Iraq. She seemed too neatly packaged: how you gonna have a raspy voice, play the guitar and continue my unbroken string of crushes on bi-racial European chicks (from Sade on down to Zadie Smith) It seemed too good to be true. And then I bought the album.
What I like most about the album is that it sounds like a bunch of friends got together and made an album, with little deference to the grind of their daily lives. I know a lot of albums are made under those circumstances, but this album sounds like it. Rae's voice swoops, glides, and is more powerful than her wispy countenancy (or even her poetic name) would ever suggest. Her range of influences extends from Led Zeppelin to Erykah Badu and you actually hear those influences on this album. (Good, if I hear one more synthetic sounding R&B cat say their favorite singers are Donny Hathaway and Stevie Wonder, I'm punching them dead in the chest.) She reveals far more promise on this debut than simply being the "next Norah Jones," as some have labeled her. She sounds more like simply "the next."
Al Green -- I'm Still in Love With You
This album, like most of Al Green and Willie Mitchell's classic '70s work, is beyond reproach. In all it's southern-fried glory, this December 1972 release is simply one of the most soulful albums ever made. It sounds like heated up greens at your cool uncle's speakeasy at 2 in the morning, while the most beautiful girl in town is whispering in your right ear and the air is a vibrant shade of orange that you've never seen before. I don't have to tell you about the title track. If I do, there's something wrong with you. "Simply Beautiful" might make a Negro's eyes water up. "Oh, Pretty Woman" puts Roy Orbison's more well-known original to shame. And did I mention that "Love and Happiness" is on this album? Exactly. It's ridiculous. Go find someone you like and throw this jammie on. You won't be disappointed.
P.S. I know crate diggers might say I'm on the late freight, but at least relistening to this album solved my two year mystery of where Kanye got that sample for Consequence's "Gettin' Out the Game" that was on my voice mail for, like, four or five months.
The Jacksons -- The Essential Jacksons
As you probably already know, I have weird fascinations. About a month or two ago, I got really obsessively intrigued by the music of the Jacksons. Not the Jackson 5. The Jacksons. The group they became after they left Motown (and thanks to Berry Gordy, their name as well). The group that both preceded and weathered Michael's transition from almost washed up former child star to international phenomenon. The group that gave us so many disco era hits that Michael's success with Off the Wall seems as though it should've been less shocking in retrospect.
So I copped the CD and was floored by songs both familiar ("Blame It on the Boogie," "Can You Feel It," "Shake Your Body Down to the Ground") and unfamiliar ("Find Me A Girl," "Show You The Way To Go"). Say you will about Joe Jackson and his boot camp like relationship with his kids, but he masterminded and navigated the most talented and successful bunch of siblings in the history of recorded music. (I hear you Bee Gees fans, but Joe and Katherine had 10 kids and darnit if they didn't all have a hit song at one point. Except LaToya.)
A lot of negativity surrounds the Jacksons' name, and admittedly, a lot of it, they've brought on themselves. But if you need a reminder of how gifted the family from 2300 Jackson Street could be when they were all focused, you don't have to go further than this album.
Pharrell -- In My Mind
It took me a couple spins to really appreciate but it's been getting heavy rotation in the Silver Bullet since I came back from Ohio. I've heard people saying this album isn't quite what they expected, but I think people just like to complain. I mean, he gave you the deceptively simplistic synthezied beats, he rhymed about Ice Cream, BBC and the seemingly endless parade of models who love his dirty draws. You want cameos, he gave 'em to you: Jay-Z, Nelly, Slim Thug, Snoop, Kanyeeze. So what if half the album sounds like Michael Jackson circa 1981? A lot of contemporary R&B is going in that direction. You think Beyonce's new album is gonna sound any different? You think Justin Timberlake's new album is gonna sound any different? And since when is sounding like the album that Mike woulda dropped between Off the Wall and Thriller a bad thing. A lot of Maroon 5's Songs About Jane sound like outtakes from Dangerous and that album went triple platinum!
Also gaining this album major cool points is track 13, "Our Father," the most sincere "thankyouforlovingmeJesuseventhoughI'mascrewup" song this side of Donny Hathaway's "Lord Help Me."
Corinne Bailey Rae -- Corinne Bailey Rae
I cannot stop listening to this album. I was semi-skeptical initially. Determined not to dig the first single, "Like A Star," even though VH-1 Soul kept playing it non-stop. Convinced that her whole persona was just a ploy by the government to distract me from the war in Iraq. She seemed too neatly packaged: how you gonna have a raspy voice, play the guitar and continue my unbroken string of crushes on bi-racial European chicks (from Sade on down to Zadie Smith) It seemed too good to be true. And then I bought the album.
What I like most about the album is that it sounds like a bunch of friends got together and made an album, with little deference to the grind of their daily lives. I know a lot of albums are made under those circumstances, but this album sounds like it. Rae's voice swoops, glides, and is more powerful than her wispy countenancy (or even her poetic name) would ever suggest. Her range of influences extends from Led Zeppelin to Erykah Badu and you actually hear those influences on this album. (Good, if I hear one more synthetic sounding R&B cat say their favorite singers are Donny Hathaway and Stevie Wonder, I'm punching them dead in the chest.) She reveals far more promise on this debut than simply being the "next Norah Jones," as some have labeled her. She sounds more like simply "the next."
Al Green -- I'm Still in Love With You
This album, like most of Al Green and Willie Mitchell's classic '70s work, is beyond reproach. In all it's southern-fried glory, this December 1972 release is simply one of the most soulful albums ever made. It sounds like heated up greens at your cool uncle's speakeasy at 2 in the morning, while the most beautiful girl in town is whispering in your right ear and the air is a vibrant shade of orange that you've never seen before. I don't have to tell you about the title track. If I do, there's something wrong with you. "Simply Beautiful" might make a Negro's eyes water up. "Oh, Pretty Woman" puts Roy Orbison's more well-known original to shame. And did I mention that "Love and Happiness" is on this album? Exactly. It's ridiculous. Go find someone you like and throw this jammie on. You won't be disappointed.
P.S. I know crate diggers might say I'm on the late freight, but at least relistening to this album solved my two year mystery of where Kanye got that sample for Consequence's "Gettin' Out the Game" that was on my voice mail for, like, four or five months.
The Jacksons -- The Essential Jacksons
As you probably already know, I have weird fascinations. About a month or two ago, I got really obsessively intrigued by the music of the Jacksons. Not the Jackson 5. The Jacksons. The group they became after they left Motown (and thanks to Berry Gordy, their name as well). The group that both preceded and weathered Michael's transition from almost washed up former child star to international phenomenon. The group that gave us so many disco era hits that Michael's success with Off the Wall seems as though it should've been less shocking in retrospect.
So I copped the CD and was floored by songs both familiar ("Blame It on the Boogie," "Can You Feel It," "Shake Your Body Down to the Ground") and unfamiliar ("Find Me A Girl," "Show You The Way To Go"). Say you will about Joe Jackson and his boot camp like relationship with his kids, but he masterminded and navigated the most talented and successful bunch of siblings in the history of recorded music. (I hear you Bee Gees fans, but Joe and Katherine had 10 kids and darnit if they didn't all have a hit song at one point. Except LaToya.)
A lot of negativity surrounds the Jacksons' name, and admittedly, a lot of it, they've brought on themselves. But if you need a reminder of how gifted the family from 2300 Jackson Street could be when they were all focused, you don't have to go further than this album.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Home again
People who know
Say you can't go
Home again
But if you ask me
I'm happy to be
Home again.
-- New Edition
TOLEDO!!
Held me down. My first trip home in a year and a half was just the break I needed. We wrapped our final edit/mix of the film the previous Tuesday and I took a copy home to show to family and friends. They loved it. And it seemed deeper than just, "We're gonna support this because our son/nephew/cousin/uncle/childhood friend made it." There were genuine critiques, laughter, appraisal, support. The kind you can only get in the only city that's been down since day one.
I was amazed at how the city never really seems to change. Niggas swore they'd stop by and holla at me and didn't. There still aren't a lot of quality jobs for people in their 20s and 30s.
Gino's Pizza still has the best pizza in the world. And that big old crack house at the main intersection of Detroit and Bancroft is still a big old crack house.
But perhaps I protest too much: Downtown seemed livelier than ever. Malls were being built or refurbished all over the place. The weather was humid but lovely, a welcome respite from the scorching oven that was California. Kids from my church that I once coached in our 9-12 year old basketball league are now elated college students or lanky high school seniors. The suburbs are flourishing ridiculously. It was the first time, probably ever, that I wasn't running back to the airport when it was time to leave.
We drove to Pittsburgh to visit my alma mater. It was my first time there since my graduation way back in '98. It looked the same, but different. There was so much construction! But I walked wifey, my mom, and my nephew Eddie through all the old haunts: the Cathedral of Learning, the Student Union, Stephen Foster Memorial Theater, Hillman Library, the Towers, up and down Fifth Ave. and Forbes and Lothrop Street.
It was the coolest trip down memory lane. It reminded me of a time when I had nothing but time, before day jobs, before L.A. hardened me in the way that it hardens all it's residents, before I was taught to doubt the relevance of my writing. We ate an expensive Italian restaurant downtown before stopping past PNC Park and Heinz Field (boo Steelers! yay Pitt football!), then we headed back home.
The rest of the time, we were just visiting relatives and resting. I ran into my boy Stormy Dai, who told me wild tales of his days touring with Cash Money Records, about his recent tracks on Juvenile's latest album, and his pending trip to Miami, which could be monumental for blowing up his career as a hip-hop producer. You stay with it, partner. We hung out at a studio near the old DeVilbiss High School, where I watched him record and mix a promo for a local radio station.
Next thing you know, my boy Reshard takes me to this cat Henry's basement studio over on the North side and we're recording a beat and rhyming over it. Some of my bars:
J Gil on the mike, the Midnight Marauder
Knocking niggas out like I was Sgt. Slaughter
Run up on me quick, I don't think you oughta
Pillage your whole village and escape with your daughter
She tried to bolt, I caught her, sold her, then I bought her
Reenacted next Thursday on Law and Order
Reshard remains the best friend I'll ever have and the coolest person I'll ever meet. Our friendship continues to amaze me. Everyone's doing good though, for the most part. My nieces and nephews are hanging in there, the ones i saw at least. Mom is doing fine.
I just can't express how therapeutic the trip was. It gave me and the wife the kick in the pants we needed to charge ahead with our plans.
As of yesterday, I sent off applications for Shawn Parker to five film festivals: Hollywood, Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor, Cleveland and San Francisco. Down the horizon -- Sundance, Slamdance & the Pan-African Film Festivals. Also, there's a short film competition sponsored by BETJ that I'm excited about.
What? Time Warner's taking over for Comcast? Better have my VH-1 Soul.
Say you can't go
Home again
But if you ask me
I'm happy to be
Home again.
-- New Edition
TOLEDO!!
Held me down. My first trip home in a year and a half was just the break I needed. We wrapped our final edit/mix of the film the previous Tuesday and I took a copy home to show to family and friends. They loved it. And it seemed deeper than just, "We're gonna support this because our son/nephew/cousin/uncle/childhood friend made it." There were genuine critiques, laughter, appraisal, support. The kind you can only get in the only city that's been down since day one.
I was amazed at how the city never really seems to change. Niggas swore they'd stop by and holla at me and didn't. There still aren't a lot of quality jobs for people in their 20s and 30s.
Gino's Pizza still has the best pizza in the world. And that big old crack house at the main intersection of Detroit and Bancroft is still a big old crack house.
But perhaps I protest too much: Downtown seemed livelier than ever. Malls were being built or refurbished all over the place. The weather was humid but lovely, a welcome respite from the scorching oven that was California. Kids from my church that I once coached in our 9-12 year old basketball league are now elated college students or lanky high school seniors. The suburbs are flourishing ridiculously. It was the first time, probably ever, that I wasn't running back to the airport when it was time to leave.
We drove to Pittsburgh to visit my alma mater. It was my first time there since my graduation way back in '98. It looked the same, but different. There was so much construction! But I walked wifey, my mom, and my nephew Eddie through all the old haunts: the Cathedral of Learning, the Student Union, Stephen Foster Memorial Theater, Hillman Library, the Towers, up and down Fifth Ave. and Forbes and Lothrop Street.
It was the coolest trip down memory lane. It reminded me of a time when I had nothing but time, before day jobs, before L.A. hardened me in the way that it hardens all it's residents, before I was taught to doubt the relevance of my writing. We ate an expensive Italian restaurant downtown before stopping past PNC Park and Heinz Field (boo Steelers! yay Pitt football!), then we headed back home.
The rest of the time, we were just visiting relatives and resting. I ran into my boy Stormy Dai, who told me wild tales of his days touring with Cash Money Records, about his recent tracks on Juvenile's latest album, and his pending trip to Miami, which could be monumental for blowing up his career as a hip-hop producer. You stay with it, partner. We hung out at a studio near the old DeVilbiss High School, where I watched him record and mix a promo for a local radio station.
Next thing you know, my boy Reshard takes me to this cat Henry's basement studio over on the North side and we're recording a beat and rhyming over it. Some of my bars:
J Gil on the mike, the Midnight Marauder
Knocking niggas out like I was Sgt. Slaughter
Run up on me quick, I don't think you oughta
Pillage your whole village and escape with your daughter
She tried to bolt, I caught her, sold her, then I bought her
Reenacted next Thursday on Law and Order
Reshard remains the best friend I'll ever have and the coolest person I'll ever meet. Our friendship continues to amaze me. Everyone's doing good though, for the most part. My nieces and nephews are hanging in there, the ones i saw at least. Mom is doing fine.
I just can't express how therapeutic the trip was. It gave me and the wife the kick in the pants we needed to charge ahead with our plans.
As of yesterday, I sent off applications for Shawn Parker to five film festivals: Hollywood, Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor, Cleveland and San Francisco. Down the horizon -- Sundance, Slamdance & the Pan-African Film Festivals. Also, there's a short film competition sponsored by BETJ that I'm excited about.
What? Time Warner's taking over for Comcast? Better have my VH-1 Soul.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
More Shawn Parker pics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We're going to start editing the film in earnest next week. The music's coming along, provided by superproducer Mark 1. I'm getting back into my normal life. Cut off the minifro and everything. Anyhow, life's good. Here's some more photos, via Jay Davis.
The morning after: Erika (Grace Tejano) and Shawn (Jason Gilmore)
Erika (Grace Tejano) & Shawn (Jason Gilmore)
Meredith (Stephanie Lange) throws Shawn a curveball.
Tricia (Ayana Nataki) & Robin (Jaimyon Parker)
Shawn (JG) & Donnita (Trenekia Danielle)
Tryin' to impress this chick.
Donnita at dinner (Trenekia Danielle)
The scene of the crime, lol. (w/sound mixer James Ridgely & DP Rob Neal)
Rob Neal (Director of Photography & Editor) He's a Toledo dude, too. And yes, that is the camera we shot on.
Independent filmmaking at its finest.
What happened to Donnita? Go see the movie.
The morning after: Erika (Grace Tejano) and Shawn (Jason Gilmore)
Erika (Grace Tejano) & Shawn (Jason Gilmore)
Meredith (Stephanie Lange) throws Shawn a curveball.
Tricia (Ayana Nataki) & Robin (Jaimyon Parker)
Shawn (JG) & Donnita (Trenekia Danielle)
Tryin' to impress this chick.
Donnita at dinner (Trenekia Danielle)
The scene of the crime, lol. (w/sound mixer James Ridgely & DP Rob Neal)
Rob Neal (Director of Photography & Editor) He's a Toledo dude, too. And yes, that is the camera we shot on.
Independent filmmaking at its finest.
What happened to Donnita? Go see the movie.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Do I really need a permit to shoot on my own property?
(and other things overheard on the shoot of HOW SHAWN PARKER FELL IN LOVE)
Saturday 6amish Mood: happy and nervous
Early Saturday morning. Six o'clock or so. I'm hyphy. Crunk. Excited. The first day of the rest of my life. But yet, I'm nervous, apprehensive. Wondering if this is all going to work. There are several unanswered questions: 1) We haven't firmly established if my sound mixer and my small DV cam will work together. 2) I don't know if any of my extras will actually show up for the scenes that I need them in. 3) I don't even know if I'm up to the task of acting, directing and doing 34 other things throughout the course of an 25-page shoot schedule over two days. (Yes, that's what I said.) But everything is set in motion. By hook or by crook, I've got my cast (although a small percentage of cats who sent headshots and said they were coming to the audition actually came -- hence my unexpected appointment as the male lead), my cinematographer and editor (one in the same, my editor Rob Neal also became my DP after a host of DPs found a way to ignore my e-mails and general requests), my sound mixer, complete with equipment, my locations (except for one, which has been agreed to, but makes me nervous). We're ready to go.
We convene upon the first scene, both in the script and of the shoot. Shawn has just finished getting it on with a trophy wife, then she disses him, then her nine year old son wanders into the room, looking for his parents. Shawn disses the kid, but not before he answers his cell phone and tells another woman that he's at the hospital giving blood. And this is, like, the first three pages of the script. I gave us two hours to shoot the scene at my wife's cousin's friend's condo in Ladera Heights. Everyone showed up on time, which amazed me. But then my worst fear was confirmed, as it took us just over an hour to get the sound together. My DV cam is tiny, it took us awhile to figure out whether it was better to go through an adaptor or run the sound straight through a cable to the camera. I was getting nervous as the clock ticked. Director, keep morale up! I kept rehearsing with the trophy chick, Erika (the alluring Grace Tejano) and her son (Jarrod Silcock).
(all film stills by Jay Davis)
Once we got our technical difficulties together, the scene was relatively effortless. A lot of this was because Grace and I had rehearsed a lot. We packed up our things, about a half hour behind schedule and bounced to the next location.
Saturday 11amish Mood: Confident
We're shooting the scene where Shawn gets fired from his high paying corporate job at an office at the Normandie Church of Christ in L.A. Rob finds a basketball in the parking lot and soon, me, him, my sound mixer Jim Ridgley and still photographer Jay Davis are shooting around and reminiscing on our younger, leaner days. (This is particularly sad since me, Rob and Jay are all still in our 20s.) This is one beauty of film crews -- that people from different walks of life can bond over making a film -- that most unnatural of processes. My wife (who doubled as lead actress, set decorator, caterer and 24 other things) shows up with Subway sandwiches and drinks. Willard's office is perfect, just hot (the recurring theme of the day) and after we adjust some things in his office to make it look more corporate, we're ready to roll. I'm in this scene with the gifted Stephanie Lange, who plays one of thiose corporate chicks who is so evil she can smile while she's firing you. The very first take, Stephanie was cheesing so hard, I burst out laughing right after I called cut. We did the reverse over the shoulder shots, nothing too spectatular, and I sense that my small crew is gaining a small bit of respect for my acting chops. Or at least that's what I tell myself.
Saturday -- 2:30ish Mood: It's dark and Inglewood is hot.
The longest, most drawn out section of the shoot took place at my cousin Quake's apartment, which he was gracious enough to let us borrow for the day. Mostly because a) we have scenes that involved suicide attempts, arguments and physical altercations, some of which I never had the chance to storyboard; b) the temperature inside his apartment that day was 213 degrees; c) some of his neighbors are hella loud; and d) Jason Gilmore likes to bite off more than he can chew.
We have to be gone by 5:30 because I have extras who are supposed to be meeting me at my house for the big club scene we're shooting tonight in my guest room. By 5:30, we feel halfway done. Light is a constant problem. I start getting into one take mode, where I'm trying to do everything in the first presentable take. Rob and Jim keep talking me out of it. We don't leave till, like, 7 something. On the last scene, we get into a minor altercation with the next door neighbors who go out of their way be as loud as possible when we polite ask them for five minutes of silence so we can shoot the last scene. I'm feeling like Terrence Howard in Hustle & Flow, like, do I gotta go give these niggas some weed or something? They persist and thankfully, miraculously, their noise doesn't pick up on our footage.
It takes us forever to unpack because we brought so much stuff to feminize my bachelor cousin's apartment. On our way out, the knuckleheads next door try to block my sound mixer's car in the middle of the street. WHY ARE YOU BEING A HATER?!?!?!?!? I'm thinking my phone's going to be blown up with constant friends/associates because they showed up at my crib and I wasn't there. But, despite my steady stream of e-mails, phone calls, and MySpace bulletins, I only get one call.
Saturday 8ish Mood: Tired and Wishing It Was Over
I arrive at my house exhausted. Still I have to shoot the club scene, where my character and my wife's character meet for the first time, as introduced by mutual friends Robin (Jaimyon Parker) andTricia (Ayana Nataki). Everybody's jovial except me. Outtakes show Jaimyon and Rob trying to cheer me up and me hitting them back with one word answers. I'm trying to direct all the set ups and stay in character and direct the extras. I recruit Jay and my next door neighbor, Mike McCarty to be extras. Rob pushes my set up against the wall and suddenly, the need for 7-10 extras becomes unnecessary. Dude is a genius. It all works out well in the end at 11pm. But not before I get a call from Quake saying that I locked his girl out of his apartment and since he's out of town, I need to take care of that. (She later got in without my assistance, but I didn't find this out until she called me back at 7 the next morning.)
Sunday 2amish Mood: Restless
Can't sleep. Puzzling over everything that happened Saturday. I can't believe I'm shooting a film. Nervous about the scene at the tuxedo shop on Sunday morning because the store's manager was so flippant with her yes. It made me nervous that she never called me back when she said she would or that I had to remind her who I was and what I wanted each time I called. Then, in the middle of the night, my phone rings. It's my cousin George. His girl is trippin'. He wants to come over and crash. Sure, I think, I can't sleep anyway.
We talk for awhile and then I leave him on the couch in our living room. We wake up the next morning, have a makeshift communion (as we would've normally, all being regular churchgoers) and I recruit him and his son to be extras for the tux scene. The one that all my other so-called friends found a way out of and that I'm wondering if we'll be able to get into anyway.
Sunday 7:30amish Mood: Sleepy but strangely energized
We shoot a conversation scene on a lovely row of shrubbery on Kareem Court right across the street from the Forum. Once again, we are right underneath LAX's flight path and there are joggers all around but we get it done in more than enough time. We run over to Rogers Park to see if we can quickly shoot a scene that I planned to shoot last. But it's some loud brothers over there playing tennis. This morning, it seems everyone in Inglewood is at Rogers Park. We decide, instead, to shoot the scene on a backlot inside my gated community -- one that serves as a parking lot and also looks like one.
Sunday 11amish Mood: Overeager
I'm right. The tux shop was supposed to let us in at 11 to shoot for an hour before they opened at 12. But they're not here. So we sit in front of the store for almost an hour. Me, Rob, Jim, Wifey, my cousin and his son, and Ed Cotter, a marvelous actor who's playing the tuxedo store owner. At 11:55, an employee opens up, claiming to know nothing of our shoot. This doesn't surprise me. But she tells us we can shoot for twenty minutes. My crew and cast jumps into place like gangbusters. We shoot around a couple of early customers who seem respectful of what we're doing. The manager arrives at ten after. It's clear that she completely forgot about us. We knock out the last (chronological) scene of the film and are out of the door by 12:40.
Sunday 1pmish Mood: Celebratory
After the tux scene, I consider the rest of the day child's play. We have some scenes in my living room & dining room and the final scene in the back lot. The living and dining room scenes go well. My composer Mark 1 drops by to do a cameo as a waiter in a makeshift restaurant scene with me and Jaimyon. Wifey picks up Taco Bell. It's awkward to passionately kiss your wife in front of a film crew as two scenes required. Rob's like, "You need to get more into it." Got me feeling like Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide Shut or something. It's crazy. But we make it good. My friend Tabitha stops by with a cooler full of water, snacks and candy. Today is going much smoother than yesterday.
Sunday 6pmish Mood: Persecuted
So we're down to the last scene. It's simple. Me and wifey walking down the street, passing cars and engaging in a verbal tug of war. Jim mikes us up because I chose to shoot in a slow zoom to make up for our non-existent dolly/steadicam. We're interrupted, often, by airplanes, but then, 20 minutes by a woman sitting on a nearby porch, who asks what we're doing. We tell her we're shooting a film and ask if we're disturbing her. She says no. Adds that she's just being nosey. Okay. Her husband comes outside, watches us for another 20-25 minutes. Finally, when we're almost done, he walks up on us, out of nowhere.
"Do you have a permit to shoot here?"
"No. But I live here."
He goes on to tell me that he's the president of the same intracommunity organization that turned me down when I sent them a letter back at the beginning of May requesting to use our community clubhouse to film a couple scenes. (I didn't know they had rejected me officially, because they never responded to my letter. A secretary who was at the meeting told me over the phone that they had rejected me, but her reasons were vague. Still, even though a written request is supposed to be met with a written reply, I found other locations for those scenes. To me, this was a separate issue: I didn't think I need to ask permission to shoot land on a camcorder that I partially own.)
"I mean, we're almost done. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to leave."
And I'm thinking, leave? Where am I going to go? Four units down to my house. Then, he jumped on the phone like he was calling the cops or something, get out of here. For the most part, we had everything we needed. We were just going to grab a couple of closeups for insurance. But Boss Hogg was so meanspirited with his hateration that I realized it wouldn't be worth my time. Unimportant people need to cling to whatever little status they can cling to. So we walked home, amazed/frustrated that we'd shot all over L.A. with nary a problem and that cats was hating on me in the place where I rest at. But that's the way goes. One monkey didn't stop a show. The film is in the can.
And it looks good.
Mood: Proud.
Saturday 6amish Mood: happy and nervous
Early Saturday morning. Six o'clock or so. I'm hyphy. Crunk. Excited. The first day of the rest of my life. But yet, I'm nervous, apprehensive. Wondering if this is all going to work. There are several unanswered questions: 1) We haven't firmly established if my sound mixer and my small DV cam will work together. 2) I don't know if any of my extras will actually show up for the scenes that I need them in. 3) I don't even know if I'm up to the task of acting, directing and doing 34 other things throughout the course of an 25-page shoot schedule over two days. (Yes, that's what I said.) But everything is set in motion. By hook or by crook, I've got my cast (although a small percentage of cats who sent headshots and said they were coming to the audition actually came -- hence my unexpected appointment as the male lead), my cinematographer and editor (one in the same, my editor Rob Neal also became my DP after a host of DPs found a way to ignore my e-mails and general requests), my sound mixer, complete with equipment, my locations (except for one, which has been agreed to, but makes me nervous). We're ready to go.
We convene upon the first scene, both in the script and of the shoot. Shawn has just finished getting it on with a trophy wife, then she disses him, then her nine year old son wanders into the room, looking for his parents. Shawn disses the kid, but not before he answers his cell phone and tells another woman that he's at the hospital giving blood. And this is, like, the first three pages of the script. I gave us two hours to shoot the scene at my wife's cousin's friend's condo in Ladera Heights. Everyone showed up on time, which amazed me. But then my worst fear was confirmed, as it took us just over an hour to get the sound together. My DV cam is tiny, it took us awhile to figure out whether it was better to go through an adaptor or run the sound straight through a cable to the camera. I was getting nervous as the clock ticked. Director, keep morale up! I kept rehearsing with the trophy chick, Erika (the alluring Grace Tejano) and her son (Jarrod Silcock).
(all film stills by Jay Davis)
Once we got our technical difficulties together, the scene was relatively effortless. A lot of this was because Grace and I had rehearsed a lot. We packed up our things, about a half hour behind schedule and bounced to the next location.
Saturday 11amish Mood: Confident
We're shooting the scene where Shawn gets fired from his high paying corporate job at an office at the Normandie Church of Christ in L.A. Rob finds a basketball in the parking lot and soon, me, him, my sound mixer Jim Ridgley and still photographer Jay Davis are shooting around and reminiscing on our younger, leaner days. (This is particularly sad since me, Rob and Jay are all still in our 20s.) This is one beauty of film crews -- that people from different walks of life can bond over making a film -- that most unnatural of processes. My wife (who doubled as lead actress, set decorator, caterer and 24 other things) shows up with Subway sandwiches and drinks. Willard's office is perfect, just hot (the recurring theme of the day) and after we adjust some things in his office to make it look more corporate, we're ready to roll. I'm in this scene with the gifted Stephanie Lange, who plays one of thiose corporate chicks who is so evil she can smile while she's firing you. The very first take, Stephanie was cheesing so hard, I burst out laughing right after I called cut. We did the reverse over the shoulder shots, nothing too spectatular, and I sense that my small crew is gaining a small bit of respect for my acting chops. Or at least that's what I tell myself.
Saturday -- 2:30ish Mood: It's dark and Inglewood is hot.
The longest, most drawn out section of the shoot took place at my cousin Quake's apartment, which he was gracious enough to let us borrow for the day. Mostly because a) we have scenes that involved suicide attempts, arguments and physical altercations, some of which I never had the chance to storyboard; b) the temperature inside his apartment that day was 213 degrees; c) some of his neighbors are hella loud; and d) Jason Gilmore likes to bite off more than he can chew.
We have to be gone by 5:30 because I have extras who are supposed to be meeting me at my house for the big club scene we're shooting tonight in my guest room. By 5:30, we feel halfway done. Light is a constant problem. I start getting into one take mode, where I'm trying to do everything in the first presentable take. Rob and Jim keep talking me out of it. We don't leave till, like, 7 something. On the last scene, we get into a minor altercation with the next door neighbors who go out of their way be as loud as possible when we polite ask them for five minutes of silence so we can shoot the last scene. I'm feeling like Terrence Howard in Hustle & Flow, like, do I gotta go give these niggas some weed or something? They persist and thankfully, miraculously, their noise doesn't pick up on our footage.
It takes us forever to unpack because we brought so much stuff to feminize my bachelor cousin's apartment. On our way out, the knuckleheads next door try to block my sound mixer's car in the middle of the street. WHY ARE YOU BEING A HATER?!?!?!?!? I'm thinking my phone's going to be blown up with constant friends/associates because they showed up at my crib and I wasn't there. But, despite my steady stream of e-mails, phone calls, and MySpace bulletins, I only get one call.
Saturday 8ish Mood: Tired and Wishing It Was Over
I arrive at my house exhausted. Still I have to shoot the club scene, where my character and my wife's character meet for the first time, as introduced by mutual friends Robin (Jaimyon Parker) andTricia (Ayana Nataki). Everybody's jovial except me. Outtakes show Jaimyon and Rob trying to cheer me up and me hitting them back with one word answers. I'm trying to direct all the set ups and stay in character and direct the extras. I recruit Jay and my next door neighbor, Mike McCarty to be extras. Rob pushes my set up against the wall and suddenly, the need for 7-10 extras becomes unnecessary. Dude is a genius. It all works out well in the end at 11pm. But not before I get a call from Quake saying that I locked his girl out of his apartment and since he's out of town, I need to take care of that. (She later got in without my assistance, but I didn't find this out until she called me back at 7 the next morning.)
Sunday 2amish Mood: Restless
Can't sleep. Puzzling over everything that happened Saturday. I can't believe I'm shooting a film. Nervous about the scene at the tuxedo shop on Sunday morning because the store's manager was so flippant with her yes. It made me nervous that she never called me back when she said she would or that I had to remind her who I was and what I wanted each time I called. Then, in the middle of the night, my phone rings. It's my cousin George. His girl is trippin'. He wants to come over and crash. Sure, I think, I can't sleep anyway.
We talk for awhile and then I leave him on the couch in our living room. We wake up the next morning, have a makeshift communion (as we would've normally, all being regular churchgoers) and I recruit him and his son to be extras for the tux scene. The one that all my other so-called friends found a way out of and that I'm wondering if we'll be able to get into anyway.
Sunday 7:30amish Mood: Sleepy but strangely energized
We shoot a conversation scene on a lovely row of shrubbery on Kareem Court right across the street from the Forum. Once again, we are right underneath LAX's flight path and there are joggers all around but we get it done in more than enough time. We run over to Rogers Park to see if we can quickly shoot a scene that I planned to shoot last. But it's some loud brothers over there playing tennis. This morning, it seems everyone in Inglewood is at Rogers Park. We decide, instead, to shoot the scene on a backlot inside my gated community -- one that serves as a parking lot and also looks like one.
Sunday 11amish Mood: Overeager
I'm right. The tux shop was supposed to let us in at 11 to shoot for an hour before they opened at 12. But they're not here. So we sit in front of the store for almost an hour. Me, Rob, Jim, Wifey, my cousin and his son, and Ed Cotter, a marvelous actor who's playing the tuxedo store owner. At 11:55, an employee opens up, claiming to know nothing of our shoot. This doesn't surprise me. But she tells us we can shoot for twenty minutes. My crew and cast jumps into place like gangbusters. We shoot around a couple of early customers who seem respectful of what we're doing. The manager arrives at ten after. It's clear that she completely forgot about us. We knock out the last (chronological) scene of the film and are out of the door by 12:40.
Sunday 1pmish Mood: Celebratory
After the tux scene, I consider the rest of the day child's play. We have some scenes in my living room & dining room and the final scene in the back lot. The living and dining room scenes go well. My composer Mark 1 drops by to do a cameo as a waiter in a makeshift restaurant scene with me and Jaimyon. Wifey picks up Taco Bell. It's awkward to passionately kiss your wife in front of a film crew as two scenes required. Rob's like, "You need to get more into it." Got me feeling like Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide Shut or something. It's crazy. But we make it good. My friend Tabitha stops by with a cooler full of water, snacks and candy. Today is going much smoother than yesterday.
Sunday 6pmish Mood: Persecuted
So we're down to the last scene. It's simple. Me and wifey walking down the street, passing cars and engaging in a verbal tug of war. Jim mikes us up because I chose to shoot in a slow zoom to make up for our non-existent dolly/steadicam. We're interrupted, often, by airplanes, but then, 20 minutes by a woman sitting on a nearby porch, who asks what we're doing. We tell her we're shooting a film and ask if we're disturbing her. She says no. Adds that she's just being nosey. Okay. Her husband comes outside, watches us for another 20-25 minutes. Finally, when we're almost done, he walks up on us, out of nowhere.
"Do you have a permit to shoot here?"
"No. But I live here."
He goes on to tell me that he's the president of the same intracommunity organization that turned me down when I sent them a letter back at the beginning of May requesting to use our community clubhouse to film a couple scenes. (I didn't know they had rejected me officially, because they never responded to my letter. A secretary who was at the meeting told me over the phone that they had rejected me, but her reasons were vague. Still, even though a written request is supposed to be met with a written reply, I found other locations for those scenes. To me, this was a separate issue: I didn't think I need to ask permission to shoot land on a camcorder that I partially own.)
"I mean, we're almost done. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to leave."
And I'm thinking, leave? Where am I going to go? Four units down to my house. Then, he jumped on the phone like he was calling the cops or something, get out of here. For the most part, we had everything we needed. We were just going to grab a couple of closeups for insurance. But Boss Hogg was so meanspirited with his hateration that I realized it wouldn't be worth my time. Unimportant people need to cling to whatever little status they can cling to. So we walked home, amazed/frustrated that we'd shot all over L.A. with nary a problem and that cats was hating on me in the place where I rest at. But that's the way goes. One monkey didn't stop a show. The film is in the can.
And it looks good.
Mood: Proud.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
RIP Billy Preston 1946-2006
I know everyone's waiting to see what I have to say about my film shoot from this past weekend (in short, it was crazy, but outstanding) but I had to take a little time out upon news of the passing of Billy Preston this morning. For those who don't know, Mr. Preston was a musical giant. An acclaimed singer and pianist, he played behind Ray Charles, Little Richard, Aretha Franklin, The Rolling Stones and The Beatles (amongst others) before launching his own solo career which produced such hits as "Will It Go Round in Circles", "Outa-Space", "Nothing From Nothing" and "With You I'm Born Again" featuring Syreeta.
While working on a story about Sly Stone in the summer of 2000, I befriended Sly's sister Rose, who put me in touch with Mr. Preston. One warm summer day, I drove to his home in Ladera Heights, where he introduced me to his family, then held court with me for nearly an hour on his upbringing, his troubles and most importantly, his love and respect for music and the phenomenal talents he has been blessed to play with.
The piece was slated to run in a national magazine but a new editor took over and ixnayed the previously agreed to set up. So I held it. My only regret is that I wasn't really into the Beatles when I met him and, for that alone (especially now that I've seen the Let It Be movie), I could've asked him so many more questions.
So here's the interview, in its entirety.
Black music is losing.
Elevate.
JG: You had such a prodigious childhood and you were playing at a young age, but overall, what was your childhood like?
BP: Overall, it was a very nice childhood. I’m from a very musical family, a Christian family and my mother played piano and my older sister also played. There was always a piano in the house. My sister started playing when she was three and I did too.
JG: Who were your first big influences?
BP: Wow… Ray Charles, of course. Ray Charles and the reason is that his music was gospel, it had this gospel vibe. And I really related to him. I used to put my choir robe on and pantomime to his music. So he became my idol then. And then, of course, a lot of the gospel musicians that were big at the time: Curtis Dublin, Herbert Picard, Reverend James Cleveland and a lot of the piano players that were playing in those days were a great influence to me. I grew up with Andrae Crouch, who was also a musician, we were in a group together called C.O.G.I.C. We used to always listen to the records and learn.
JG: I once read an article on Sly Stone where you were once quoted as having said that you met him at a party where you were listening to Ray Charles. Tell us a little bit about your friendship with Sly Stone.
BP: Well, Sly’s like a brother. He’s like…. We’ve always considered ourselves 50% of each other. Because when we play together, it’s just magic. It’s just a wonderful experience. Sly is just… Sly! You know, he’s a character. We both had dreams at the time to form a group. It was at the time that the Beatles were big and we said, we’re gonna have four cats. We’re gonna be the black Beatles, except we’re gonna call ourselves The Sons of Ray. It was gonna be me, Sly, Larry Graham and Freddie (Stone). At the time, I was on Capitol Records and I was working with Ray and I told Ray about Sly and he got excited that we were going to form a group and name it after him. So I got Ray to produce the session. But it so happened that Sly was late, he showed up to the session late and I was so hurt because here we’ve got Ray Charles waiting on Sly! I think Sly was a little scared to be in the presence of Ray. We did do the session but nothing came of it. After that, Sly went on back and formed the Family Stone and he called me to come up there and work on his project.
JG: That was you playing the electric piano on “Family Affair?” I love that.
BP: Yeah, that was me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
JG: Have you seen Sly lately?
BP: No. Not too many people have seen Sly lately. I want to see him. I hope that he gets it together to the point he’ll come back and we’ll get to play some more. I talk to Rose (Stone). I haven’t spoken to Freddie recently, I’ve tried to call him a couple times. You know, he’s a pastor now. I’m happy for him. But I haven’t seen Sly. I always ask Rose how he’s doing. He seems to be okay, but he’s not… there’s something happening with him, I don’t know.
JG: How well did you know another musical idol of mine, Donny Hathaway? I know that he redid a couple of your songs. [1971’s “Little Girl” and 1973’s “Lord Help Me”]
BP: Yeah, he did the heck out of them. I didn’t really know Donny that well. We met in New York and hung out a few times. I really didn’t spend a lot of time with Donny. Donny was kind of a different, really strange person.
JG: How so?
BP: I think he was really introverted. So he wasn’t really an open type cat. We sat one time and we talked but we didn’t hang out or anything. But he was a genius, really something else.
JG: So what are you working on now, that we can look forward to?
BP: I’m getting ready to do a pop album. I’ve been doing a lot of gospel, that’s my roots. Me and my sister started a gospel label. We’re working on different projects there. I have Lucinda Tatum, who’s a great narrator and we did a project a few years ago called Words and Music, so we’re working on her next album. My sister’s kids have a group too. I also work at church with my sister, she’s the minister of music at Brookins AME. I play the organ at the church. It’s a joy because all these years, we’ve worked at different churches, but we’ve never worked together at the same church.
JG: Do you think there’s anything about you that’s been misunderstood?
BP: Yeah, but it’s all a growing process and you live and learn. You make mistakes and you just get up, you don’t stay down. You just have to regroup and start over or do whatever’s necessary. I’m grateful for the experience of whatever I’ve had to go through. I’ve gotten stronger by all of it. And I thank God that my gift is still there and my mind and my spirit. So it’s okay.
JG: How were you able to maintain in light of your more serious legal issues? [In the 1980s and 90s, Preston was convicted of insurance fraud and battled drug and alcohol addiction.]
BP: Well, through God. Through my spiritual experience. Really getting back to my purpose, what God put me here for. It really grounded me. It separated me from everything, so it had to ground me. I had nothing but myself and the Lord to deal with, so that really did me good.
JG: Did you have any points where you felt like, “Well, maybe this is it? I can’t go back.”
BP: Well, I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing I want to go back to. It’s always about what’s ahead. What’s past is past. I’m not trying to recapture the past and go back and do the things I did before. Even though I still sing the same songs forever. But I’m reaching for the future. I don’t live in the past.
JG: Okay, I just need to know where in the world did you come up with “Outa-Space”?
BP: Yes. (laughs) There was a new instrument that had just come out, the clavinet. I rented it for the session. And I was just playing it, I put a wah-wah pedal on it. I was just playing around. And I just came up with this little groove. Just automatically, the band caught on to it. We took one take of it and that’s the record.
JG: Wow.
BP: It was just one take, man. It was magic. That’s what happened with “Space Race”, the synthesizer had just come out. I rented it for the session and we came up with this little tune and it was a classic. The world of music is just so exciting right now because of the technology and the new instruments they’re making now. I’ve got a guy in there now, wiring up some stuff for me. Music is just a wonderful thing and there’s always something new to look forward to.
JG: How did you get cool with The Beatles?
BP: I met the Beatles in 1962. I was on tour with Little Richard. It was supposed to be a gospel tour but it turned out to be rock and roll. I went with him and played rock and roll for the first time. The Beatles were a supporting act on the show. So we became friends then, and then we started hanging out. They asked me about America. I didn’t see them again until I was on tour with Ray Charles in England and George Harrison came to the show. He sent a message for me to come by the studio the next day. I went by and they were all there recording and everything, so they said, “C’mon and play.” So I sat in and they asked me to come back and help them finish their album. I did three albums with them: The White Album, Abbey Road and Let It Be. That was a great experience, they treated me like a member of the family. We became like brothers. It opened a new avenue for me because it was the first time that I ever got to sing on a record, the first time I ever got to co-produce a record. So, it was a great experience.
JG: How close do you think you came to actually being a member of the group?
BP: I was. I was actually a member. Had they stayed together, I probably would’ve been out there with them. But they had stopped touring at that time. The last time we performed together was on the roof of Apple. I was kind of upset about it. (laughs) It would’ve been really nice. But by my being there with them, I understood all the hassles that they were going through, you know, with their business and money missing. And it seemed like, “God, if the Beatles aren’t being treated right, then what hope could I have?” They were kind enough to let me out of the contract because they were having so many problems.
JG: I saw a quote that Andy Summers of the Police said about Miles Davis, where he said that you could basically trace the history of black music through following Miles’ career. As I was looking at your career, I was thinking that someone could say the same thing about you. Out of all those people that you’ve played with, who awed you the most?
BP: Who awed me the most? I don’t know. A lot of people admire me and that’s a great thing. I’ve admired Ray Charles and, in fact, you mentioned Miles Davis, I met him once at a press conference and he came in and took me out to his car and played me a track called “Billy Preston.” I was blown away! That was a great honor for him to do that. I don’t know, it’s guess it’s a mutual admiration society amongst artists and musicians. We all appreciate each other for what we do. It’s not a competitive thing. It’s just appreciating each other.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Budgets, Shoots, Schemers and Friends
Between increased responsibilities at the day job and the steady progression of my short film, I feel like my head's about to explode. But I can honestly say that God has been guiding my efforts, creating ways where there previously wasn't.
As of today, I have: all my locations set, all my cast in place, and my crew is almost in place, sort of. I'm trying to get on the same page with my sound mixer, who seems really interested in the script, but may be booked up the weekend of the shoot.
Here's some low budget facts:
1) The short's entire payroll is coming off my lone credit card.
2) We're using four rooms in my house for scenes.
3) We're shooting an after dark scene at a park notorious for its late night drug transactions.
4) I've been so busy playing director, I haven't made time to learn my lines.
5) We wanted to shoot two scenes in the clubhouse in my gated community, but they turned me down because they "didn't have enough time to research what my shooting would entail." Everytime I drive past the place, I throw eggs.
6) Everyone's been hating on my camera, but its lack of long range focus will force me to make tighter shots. Which is good.
Went out to the Project:Involve shorts fest last week sponsored by Film Independent over in Hollywood. Some pretty decent work there, but I just wanted to see what I was up against. Took my Toledo friend Rob Neal, who's my editor, and may possibly end up being my cinematographer as well. It was good to catch up with him as I hadn't seen him years. Yet I think it's fate that we reconnected, just before I embark upon what could be a very important turning point in my life. Today, me and the wife drove around L.A. most of the day, doing pick up shots of the great city of Los Angeles for what I hope to be my opening credits. (It's my 400 Blows tribute. Cats who know me, know I will pay tribute to Francois Truffaut's films whenever possible.) I really think that's why my scripts ran into problems with the Hollywood types. It's bad enough to be a person who is heavily influenced by European filmmakers in this color by numbers movie climate. It's even worse to be that way and be black. THEY CAN'T SEE ME.
Haven't been alongside the Clippers during their playoff run. Haven't had time. My Pistons have stumbled into a Game 7 with a Cavs team playing way above their heads. (Really, Detroit's just been playing way BELOW their heads.) I'm so angry about the way the series has gone, I've become numb. The refs are giving LeBron respect like he's already Jordan, and my crew are not playing Detroit Pistons basketball. They're not playing Detroit Shock basketball either. They're barely playing Detroit Country Day basketball. And I'm talking about the junior high team. It's sickening. I have obsessed over this series to a state of Zen. Whatever will be will be.
In addition, as if I weren't busy enough, I'm copyediting a few articles for the as yet unnamed Intrepid Media Short Story collection, which will be released this fall. ("The Meaning of Michael," an old short story that I wrote about a jazz trumpeter who reunites with estranged, legendary father was thankfully accepted to the collection.) The last few rejection letters from my essays are beginning to trickle in, including very nice rejection letters from The Sycamore Review and The Missouri Review, which have encouraged me -- as much as a rejection can encourage anyone. I'm also working on a very late late addition to my book of essays called "The Simple Life" (it's about my marriage and the ins and outs of marriage in general). I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, but I feel like I'm in the middle of a storm.
If the Clippers win their series, I don't know if I'll be at the games. But, thanks to the regular season, photographically, I'm covered either way.
RIP Johnnie Wilder, Jr.
Alvin Brown is my first cousin's son. You heard it here first.
As of today, I have: all my locations set, all my cast in place, and my crew is almost in place, sort of. I'm trying to get on the same page with my sound mixer, who seems really interested in the script, but may be booked up the weekend of the shoot.
Here's some low budget facts:
1) The short's entire payroll is coming off my lone credit card.
2) We're using four rooms in my house for scenes.
3) We're shooting an after dark scene at a park notorious for its late night drug transactions.
4) I've been so busy playing director, I haven't made time to learn my lines.
5) We wanted to shoot two scenes in the clubhouse in my gated community, but they turned me down because they "didn't have enough time to research what my shooting would entail." Everytime I drive past the place, I throw eggs.
6) Everyone's been hating on my camera, but its lack of long range focus will force me to make tighter shots. Which is good.
Went out to the Project:Involve shorts fest last week sponsored by Film Independent over in Hollywood. Some pretty decent work there, but I just wanted to see what I was up against. Took my Toledo friend Rob Neal, who's my editor, and may possibly end up being my cinematographer as well. It was good to catch up with him as I hadn't seen him years. Yet I think it's fate that we reconnected, just before I embark upon what could be a very important turning point in my life. Today, me and the wife drove around L.A. most of the day, doing pick up shots of the great city of Los Angeles for what I hope to be my opening credits. (It's my 400 Blows tribute. Cats who know me, know I will pay tribute to Francois Truffaut's films whenever possible.) I really think that's why my scripts ran into problems with the Hollywood types. It's bad enough to be a person who is heavily influenced by European filmmakers in this color by numbers movie climate. It's even worse to be that way and be black. THEY CAN'T SEE ME.
Haven't been alongside the Clippers during their playoff run. Haven't had time. My Pistons have stumbled into a Game 7 with a Cavs team playing way above their heads. (Really, Detroit's just been playing way BELOW their heads.) I'm so angry about the way the series has gone, I've become numb. The refs are giving LeBron respect like he's already Jordan, and my crew are not playing Detroit Pistons basketball. They're not playing Detroit Shock basketball either. They're barely playing Detroit Country Day basketball. And I'm talking about the junior high team. It's sickening. I have obsessed over this series to a state of Zen. Whatever will be will be.
In addition, as if I weren't busy enough, I'm copyediting a few articles for the as yet unnamed Intrepid Media Short Story collection, which will be released this fall. ("The Meaning of Michael," an old short story that I wrote about a jazz trumpeter who reunites with estranged, legendary father was thankfully accepted to the collection.) The last few rejection letters from my essays are beginning to trickle in, including very nice rejection letters from The Sycamore Review and The Missouri Review, which have encouraged me -- as much as a rejection can encourage anyone. I'm also working on a very late late addition to my book of essays called "The Simple Life" (it's about my marriage and the ins and outs of marriage in general). I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, but I feel like I'm in the middle of a storm.
If the Clippers win their series, I don't know if I'll be at the games. But, thanks to the regular season, photographically, I'm covered either way.
RIP Johnnie Wilder, Jr.
Alvin Brown is my first cousin's son. You heard it here first.
Friday, May 05, 2006
A long week
Man, this has been a long week. I'm thigh deep in preparations for my short film, which I am now starring in, as well as directing. I've been pounding the pavement for a cinematographer and sound mixer, but as yet, people have been slow to respond. I know this isn't a big-budget production, or even a feature, but man, it's about the work! I'm trying to give cats a chance to be a part of something and it's like nobody's trying to feel me. Like the audition last Saturday, I was supposed to have 15 black men show up for the lead part of Shawn. Only two came. They were both decent actors but they just weren't what I was looking for.
I'm not Shawn on the surface, but I know him. I have willed myself into greatness before.
My locations are coming into place slowly but surely. Thankfully, three scenes will be shot in dressed up sections of my home and a couple others (hopefully) within the gates of my guarded community. Go Inglewood!
Consequently, Game 5 of the Nuggets and Clippers will have to be my last. I just don't have the time or money right now. Besides, the bigger papers were starting to move in and it was beginning to look like the Scoop was going to get the short end of the stick. (I don't even have time to go into the ups and downs I went through trying to lace you with these pictures.) But I'd like to thank the Clippers organization for the opportunity. Game 5 was John Blaze, the Clippers were pretty much in control th whole time, and I got to holla at David Aldridge (very humble cat) and Adam Morrison (remember when I talked about him a few months ago, scroll down to the bottom of the page if not).
Not to mention, I've got increased responsibilities at the day job. This is all going to be a tough juggle for the next month. The good news is, my film is cast. There is no bad news... just obstacles to be overcome. Meanwhile, go sniff around on IMDB sometime. You may be surprised at what you find.
I guess that's it for now. LeBron is erasing the doubters. But we all know it's still all about my Pistons. Word.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Clippers-Nuggets Gm 2
Monday night was bananas. Ok, I know some of you know that I do photography for the L.A. Scoop and consequently, cover Clippers games. I've been to about nine games this year and have a ton of pictures to show for it. Anyway, I missed Game 1 due to my housewarming but I wasn't going to miss anymore games, no matter what was going on.
The playoffs are no joke. I know what the players must feel like because even as a spectator, you can feel the energy in the air. I'm looking around me, I'm seeing Billy Crystal and Frankie Muniz (Malcolm from Malcolm in the Middle) and Jay Mohr and Penny Marshall. I'm seeing random NBA cats like Nate McMillan and Jay Williams (the ex-Duke one) and Mike Dunleavy, Jr. (that cat is TALL in person) milling around. I stand just inside the entrance. David Aldridge walks past. Kiki Vandeweghe. Doug Collins. Elgin Baylor with his fine wife. The crowd: a sea of red, not quite like a Nebraska home game circa Tommy Frazier, not quite like a Bloods convention, but getting there. And I continue to marvel that I've somehow talked my way into this gig -- and shot enough decent pictures to keep me around, but somehow, it all seems a little surreal.
Fifteen minutes till game time and I'm walking to my seat. I'm in front of the Clippers' bench, three seats in from the basket. This is prime real estate. I can't believe it.
But I have to snap out of it quick: as I'm approaching, some chubby, funny-built Newman off of Seinfeld looking cat is standing with his camera, complaining to one of the Clippers' staff. He's standing over my spot, pissed.
"The L.A. Scoop? Who the hell are they? What they doing over here? Have you heard of that paper? Who the hell gave them this spot?"
He goes on and on, failing to recognize that I'm right behind him. But I'm about my business. I step around him and take my seat. I ignore Stay Puff and begin pulling out my camera. I don't see him looking at me, but I feel him. Refrigerator's mood changes from angry to salty. He knows I heard him. He waddles up to me, all inquisitive, like, "Are you with the Scoop?"
"Yes."
"Where are you guys based?"
"South L.A."
"Are you a weekly paper or a group of papers?"
"A weekly black newspaper."
"Oh, 'cause I'd never seen you before."
"I'm usually on the other side of the basket, but I've been here."
(Scintillating story continued below.)
(Before and after? Just playin', Earl.)
The playoffs are no joke. I know what the players must feel like because even as a spectator, you can feel the energy in the air. I'm looking around me, I'm seeing Billy Crystal and Frankie Muniz (Malcolm from Malcolm in the Middle) and Jay Mohr and Penny Marshall. I'm seeing random NBA cats like Nate McMillan and Jay Williams (the ex-Duke one) and Mike Dunleavy, Jr. (that cat is TALL in person) milling around. I stand just inside the entrance. David Aldridge walks past. Kiki Vandeweghe. Doug Collins. Elgin Baylor with his fine wife. The crowd: a sea of red, not quite like a Nebraska home game circa Tommy Frazier, not quite like a Bloods convention, but getting there. And I continue to marvel that I've somehow talked my way into this gig -- and shot enough decent pictures to keep me around, but somehow, it all seems a little surreal.
Fifteen minutes till game time and I'm walking to my seat. I'm in front of the Clippers' bench, three seats in from the basket. This is prime real estate. I can't believe it.
But I have to snap out of it quick: as I'm approaching, some chubby, funny-built Newman off of Seinfeld looking cat is standing with his camera, complaining to one of the Clippers' staff. He's standing over my spot, pissed.
"The L.A. Scoop? Who the hell are they? What they doing over here? Have you heard of that paper? Who the hell gave them this spot?"
He goes on and on, failing to recognize that I'm right behind him. But I'm about my business. I step around him and take my seat. I ignore Stay Puff and begin pulling out my camera. I don't see him looking at me, but I feel him. Refrigerator's mood changes from angry to salty. He knows I heard him. He waddles up to me, all inquisitive, like, "Are you with the Scoop?"
"Yes."
"Where are you guys based?"
"South L.A."
"Are you a weekly paper or a group of papers?"
"A weekly black newspaper."
"Oh, 'cause I'd never seen you before."
"I'm usually on the other side of the basket, but I've been here."
(Scintillating story continued below.)
(Before and after? Just playin', Earl.)
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