My Crib is on Cribs… Sort of

October 13, 2009

Recently, I moved into a sick place in Hollywood that also happens to be Danny Bonaduce’s house.

So you can imagine my surprise the other day, when during an aimless channel surfing session I suddenly caught a glimpse of something that resembled my pad on CMT Cribs…

For real.

There was Danny Partridge, in the flesh, strutting around my kitchen in a tank top like he owns the place. I’m not sure how many times your house has been on TV while you’re watching it on TV, but let me tell you, its fucking weird.

Danny shows off the fridge. I glance to my right… yea, that fridge.

Danny shows off his priceless 17th century Morrocan tea table. I glance down and realize I should maybe find another place to put my tuna sandwich.

The most surreal part was watching Bonaduce actually show off the plasma TV in the living room while we were watching him show it off on the same plasma TV — like a ghetto MC Escher painting, but without all those crazy stairs.

A close second in the surreal department was seeing who else’s crib was on the same show:

John Rich’s.

That’s not immediately funny to anyone but me. But hold on for one more backstory.

John Rich is a country singer. He lives in Nashville at a place called the Ploughboy Mansion — the world’s largest luxury log cabin, replete with indoor pool, nightclub, and shooting gallery.

Yes, indoor shooting gallery.

The home was originally built by Barbara Mandrell, a country singer who — while apparently ubiquitous in the 80’s – is not even remotely recognizable to anyone under the age of 30.

Little known fact — I actually lived in this house while touring with Tim McGraw and Big & Rich a couple years ago. John’s manager, who owned the property at the time, happened to ask me one day where I was staying while the tour was in Nashville…

(More backstory: because Tim McGraw is big time, he doesn’t have to tour for months on end like most musicians – he tours for a week or two, then goes back to his home in Nashville for a few days to chill. Everyone else on the tour also gets to go home and relax, which is a huge bonus if you live in Nashville, like most people on country tours do. I was in college at the time though, so I didn’t really have anywhere to go).

… so when John’s manager asked me where I was staying, I sheepishly replied “Red Roof Inn.” To which he casually said something like, “That’s fucking ridiculous!” and graciously tossed me the keys to the Ploughboy, instructing me to take my pick of any of its 10 guest rooms (by the way, thanks again Marc — that was incredibly awesome of you).

So long story short, not only was ONE of my cribs on TV, but TWO of my cribs were on TV back to back.

Sort of. Not really.

It was still pretty cool.

Meeting Aaron Bay-Shuck

October 10, 2009

I roll up to BLD in a checker cab.

BLD appears to be one of those swanky Hollywood lunch spots where actors order egg-white omelets with extra shallots and agents yell into cell phones between bites of seared ahi.

The valet approaches me with a pink ticket in hand, mockingly offers it to me as I step out of the cab, then slides it back in his pocket with a smirk… dick.

I open the double glass doors and glance around. Blackberrying furiously at a table in the back is Aaron Bay-Shuck, Director of A&R for Atlantic Records.

Alex is wrapped in a snug-fitting hoodie, designer jeans, and low top Nikes. He’s sporting a shaggy haircut and a few days of authoritative stubble in a way that says, “I don’t have time to groom because I’m too busy making gold records.”

Alex is a good dude from LA. We met serendipitously a few months back, the fates of Hollywood having aligned our drunk asses within 5 feet of each other at a trendy nightspot off Sunset. I don’t remember how that meeting went or what topics were discussed, but it ended with a business card and an offer to check out my demo if I ever made it to LA.

Three months later, I’m here. I don’t have a demo. Alex agrees to meet me anyway. Alex is a good dude.

Alex went to school back east and graduated into a treacherous job market. Determined to break into music, he took a job as a temp at a label, working for office decaf until proving himself indispensable. He clawed his way into a full-time position and shimmied up the totem pole quickly. It’s hard not to respect that. He’s a scrapper like me, we get along well.

Conversation flows smoothly, our spring water is refilled generously. I order the blackened catfish sandwich with remoulade, Alex opts salad. We discuss my background, my music, what I hope to accomplish. Alex shares his story between bites of butter leaf lettuce. His specialty is hip-hop – he tells me he’s the guy who broke 3 platinum rappers every person I know has on their iPod.

He says this so simply and matter-of-factly I have zero doubt he’s for real. He doesn’t use qualifiers like, “I helped discover ” this guy or “I was involved with the development” of that guy. He says “I broke T.I.” I believe him.

It turns out I’ve written a lot of choruses for rap tracks. I’m encouraged to bust one out on the spot.

I’ve always been more than willing to perform on demand anywhere, anytime, much to the amusement / entertainment / sometimes-annoyance of my friends. But we’re in a fairly expensive restaurant during a crowded lunch hour, so I’m not sure how my hooks will be received by neighboring patrons. But when you get an open look, you take the shot… so up I square.

Reaching for a salt shaker, I improvise a sodium beat and spit. The girls at the table next to us freeze conversation mid-“and then I was like—“ and cock an ear in my direction. I consider pausing, but this is LA, so I assume this scene can’t be all that unusual.

After 4 bars, Alex bobs his head approvingly and smiles, “yeeeah.” Epic pass. I’m not surprised he likes it, but I’m surprised he isn’t surprised he likes it.

Learning I have nothing recorded, Alex volunteers to get me into Atlantic’s studio next week. “Just cover the sound engineer,” he says, “and we’ll take care of the rest.”

This is a hell of an offer. I say thank you and really mean it.

We adjourn BLD and make for the exit. Alex reaches for his pink ticket. “Did I see you pull up in a taxi?” he asks.

“Um…yeah.”

He offers me a ride.

“Time to get a whip,” he says.

Word.

Live Show #2 in Hollywood Brings 800 Fans

October 9, 2009

I decorated the room myself, as evidenced by the keyboard doubling as hat rack.

The first live show last week brought 400 fans, and show #2 on Sunday topped out at 820.

For the record, 820 people would fill the Viper Room 2 and 1/2 times, son.

At this rate, I’ll be selling out MSG by next year…

Over the course of 3 hours, we played a few original tunes, rocked a Kanye cover, chatted with the crowd, even took some requests.

“Whiskey and Cocaine” is quickly becoming a crowd favorite. This week, we also debuted “Your Disaster” in its first ever live performance.

We’re hoping to have recordings of those tracks available soon. I can only stand to hear “Where can I buy that song?” so many times without a valid answer.

Next week’s show is slated for Sunday at 6pm PST.

Apparently, we’ll have 1600 people onboard for that one :)

How To Win A Radio Contest

October 6, 2009

So KROQ is having a contest.

It’s not a random “Be caller 127 and win Iron Maiden tickets” contest — this one seems to require some modicum of skill.

Submit a picture + caption of yourself demonstrating how hard you party, and win tickets to a private party at Bardot in Hollywood this weekend.

So first I scouted the competition. I checked the website — most people’s pictures show them doing keg stands, beer bongs, pounding JD from the bottle, etc. with captions like “YEEEAHH BOOYYY!!!!”

I decided to go a slightly different direction — here’s my picture with caption:

Picture #1 is me with a girl at Moon in vegas. Picture #2 is me proposing to a chinese slots manager at planet hollywood.

In the 4 hours between pictures #1 and 2, I:

* consumed 11 jack & cokes
* attempted to fight a lamp
* asked a bathroom attendant for written directions to miami
* lost a danceoff with a dwarf (for real)
* got slapped HARD by girl in picture #1 for calling her 6 different names in 10 minutes
* was ejected from moon while complaining that the bartender served me a watered down drink… the drink was water
* stumbled into the casino, promptly blew $300 on one bet in roulette, cause I “always bet on black”
* took a 20 minute nap in the corner of a moving elevator

The nice chinese lady in picture #2 also rebuffed my advances, but comped me and my buddy a free breakfast buffet. Sweet.

UPDATE:  this entry won the contest

Have You Forgotten? (9-27 Reddit Tribute Song)

October 5, 2009

On 9-27-09, my favorite website came under attack.

Reddit was assailed by shadowy cowards who hate our way of life.

It was the kind of day that should be commemorated by a shit-kickin-salute-the-flag Toby Keith country song in the key of G…

Surprisingly, Toby wasn’t available, so I did the honors. Here for your amusement, via a $5 laptop mic, is “Have You Forgotten (9-27 Reddit Tribute Song)”

[audio:http://dl.dropbox.com/u/111986/Paz/Paz%20-%20Have%20You%20Forgotten%20%289-27%29.mp3]

Paz – Have You Forgotten (9-27 Reddit Tribute Song)

First Show, Packed House. 400 Screaming Fans!

October 4, 2009

Key Club capacity: 371. Internet capacity: 405

Played my first (solo) show last night for a packed house of 400 in Hollywood.

But the crowd was from New York.

The crowd was also from Chicago, Paris, Tokyo, and Madrid.

Around 7:30pm pacific standard time, I kicked off my first live show on Justin.tv. All it took was a webcam aimed squarely at my grill and a 6-string acoustic guitar to get things popping.

The show started well enough, attracting a modest 15 viewers or so.

But once I laid into the first track, “Whiskey and Cocaine,” the comments started coming…

“Yo, this kid is actually good!”

“Other people should see this, start inviting!”

“Donde esta la biblioteca?”

Pretty soon, I had a multilingual crowd of 403 viewers cheering me on, chatting away in their native tongues, and occasionally requesting T.I. tunes.

And who was I to disappoint? I mixed in a little Whatever You Like cover for the dirty south fans :)

The only thing missing was stuff to sell – everyone kept asking where they could buy the track I was playing at that moment, and I had absolutely nothing for them.

Other than that though, the show was a smashing success.

I’m planning to be back next Sunday, 6:00pm PST.

Let’s see if we can break 1,000 next time — that’s like 3 Key Clubs packed to the rafters, but with less stale beer and urine smell.