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Tag: music

Dear Pete Townshend

*An Imaginary letter I wrote to our Tree Audio client (we design and hand-build tube recording consoles), Pete Townshend of The Who, about My Generation.

Dear Pete Townshend,

As I made and soldered the cables for your Tree Audio recording equipment we just sent off to you, I thought about how I spent my early teen years listening to “My Generation” until I wore down the grooves in my album, while sulking, thinking about how misunderstood I was, how The Who really understood me and my generation, all of us raised in the shadow of the Flower Children with our own issues. Unlike the Woodstock crowd, the media didn’t care much about what my peers and I did or what we thought, didn’t follow our every movement, or put down our every waking moment in documentary film–only stopped to warn us that the free love-era had come to a scary halt with AIDS.

You got me, I thought. Then I realized The Who song was written for YOUR generation, my parents’ generation.

Whatever.

My generation, your generation, my kid’s generation… I think we can all relate to being misunderstood. So thanks for getting my anger. Every time you smashed your guitar, I knew you felt what I felt. Or I liked to think so.

Thanks,

Michele,
Your Tree Audio cable maker

Hippie Orgy Free Love
1960s: Free Love!
safe sex poster 1980s
1980s: Halt! Love is NOT Free. It’ll kill you. Play hide ‘n’ seek, instead.

 

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This American Woman Can’t Out Sorry a Canadian

Lesson From Last Night: An American Woman (a bit of a hint from last night’s show) canNOT out sorry a Canadian. Any American canNOT out sorry a Canadian. Believe me, I tried. I lost that Sorry Off in a big way.

Backstage (or whatever you call that narrow room with a window looking onto the floor below) at The Troubadour, last night.

Talented Musician Who Happens to be Canadian (extending his hand toward me): I’m sorry, have we met?

Me (extending my hand toward TMWHTBC): Ah yeah, millions of times. (Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration. About five times, quite a few years ago.)

TMWHTBC: I’m sorry? We have?

Me (seeing he felt awful for not remembering): Oh yeah, but don’t worry.

TMWHTBC: Really, we have? I’m so sorry.

Me: No, I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to… uh haaa, you know… make you feel badly for not…

TMWHTBC: I’m sorry.

Me: No. No. I.. I’m sorry.

TMWHTBC (with his right hand on his chest to convey his deepest apologies): Really, I am. So sorry.

You're not a true Canadian until you've apologized for saying sorry too much

I couldn’t top the sincerity of his sorry, so I just grabbed my foot and began lifting it toward my mouth. Then I slunked down The Troubadour’s kooky carnival stairs, feeling really, really sorry.

If you ever need to apologize to a Canadian just know you’re going to lose. Simply stick your foot in your mouth and skulk away, admitting defeat. Much quicker.

*As I often say, I make mistakes so you don’t have to.

Formula: 1 sorry Canadian + 1 sorry American = American skulking away in defeat.

(Note: My husband’s Canadian, so I poke fun with love. He used to play bass with Burton Cummings of the Guess Who. I took the below video of Randy Bachman–an old friend of my husband’s–and his band, last night after the sorry off.)

UPDATE!
Well, the planets must be aligned in some kooky new way, because this Canadian “Apology Act” just came to me via Instagram (I wasn’t even looking). Read it here: https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/09a03

Excerpted from the Ontario law site:
Apology Act, 2009

S.O. 2009, CHAPTER 3

Consolidation Period: From April 23, 2009 to the e-Laws currency date.

No Amendments.
Definition

1. In this Act,

“apology” means an expression of sympathy or regret, a statement that a person is sorry or any other words or actions indicating contrition or commiseration, whether or not the words or actions admit fault or liability or imply an admission of fault or liability in connection with the matter to which the words or actions relate. 2009, c. 3, s. 1.
Effect of apology on liability

2. (1) An apology made by or on behalf of a person in connection with any matter,

(a) does not, in law, constitute an express or implied admission of fault or liability by the person in connection with that matter;

 

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I Write. You’re Wrong. Errr…Mean.

Me: You know that Crowded House song, “Mean to Me”?

Ian, my husband: (Staring at his computer) Not sure.

Me: Yeah, you know it. (I begin to sing) “I’m down on my knees… So please don’t be mean to me.”

I think it sounds just like it. I’m sure he’ll nod his head in acknowledgement.

Ian: (Eyes haven’t moved from his computer.) It’s a good thing you can write.

***

Wow, so mean! Ouch. Ah, that’s okay. Ian’s not wrong. And as a musician/songwriter, he’s gotta be honest. Plus, I’ve admitted my lack of singing talent in this previous blog post.

Wow, so mean! Ouch. Ah that’s okay. I’ve admitted in this previous post my lack of singing talent.

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Los Angeles: More than Clichés

Yeah, LA is more than our clichés, but they do exist.

Cliché LA

Golden days

Summer haze

Pacific Coast Highway

Awesome waves

Screenplays

Valets

The Palisades

Silver Lake

Fake…

Boobs

Surfer dudes

Film debuts

Malibu

Attitudes

California Dreams

Palm trees

Plastic surgery

Itsy bitsy bikinis

Purple mountains majesty

Paparazzi

Graffiti

TMZ

Venice Beach

Slangy speech

Movie…

Stars

Luxury cars

Sushi bars

Award Shows

Chateau Marmont

Spago

Limos

Studios

Rodeo…

Drive

The 405

Blue skies

Pulled back eyes

Toned thighs

Chili fries

Hollywood sign

Social climb

I, me, mine

Gang Crime

Drive thrus

Swimming pools

Sparkling jewels

Glamour

Clamor

Rush hour

Want more

Power…

Trip

Sunset Strip

Film script

Set Grips

Hollywood gossip

Hoes and pimps

Star-struck

Nip and tuck

Make a buck

Life don’t suck

Taco trucks

Traffic

Psychic

Pornographic

Manic

Panic

Organic…

Sprouts

In-n-Out

Celebs bailed out

Droughts

Injected pouts

Golden State

Earthquakes

Lose weight

Get sedate

How much you make?

Old age can wait

Cuz…

Life is great…

in L.A.!

But if you look a little closer, you just might find the unexpected.

Here’s my slide show of just a bit of what I love about LA. All the great stuff is tangled, woven, and often hidden amongst and beneath LA’s clichés.

Written by Michele Miles Gardiner

LA punk band X, “Los Angeles”

 

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Delusional and Untalented

As a delusional and untalented child, I mangled many songs of the 1970s: Olivia Newton-John’s Have you Never Been Mellow; Minnie Riperton’s Loving You, and so many more, including (as I mention in this Los Angeles Daily News piece of mine) Debby Boone’s You Light up My Life.

Yes, it’s true.  I sang out in public without shame.  See this photo above?  I’m dancing and singing, as I often did.  And from the big hand gestures, I’m guessing the number I’m assaulting everyone in my vicinity with is Age of Aquarius.

And if I had more room in the Daily News piece, I would’ve included how I, as a Freshman (who should have known better by then), sang Linda Ronstadt’s Blue Bayou to my entire high school.  Yep, it was just me singing a capella – standing in the middle of the auditorium during a school rally.

So, yes, I was truly delusional… I say in the past-tense, while typing about my life into cyberspace as if anyone gives a damn.  Some things haven’t changed.

The dawning of the Age of Aquarius; yet my lack of talent did NOT dawn on me –

I did NOT sound like Linda –

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