22nd Sep2005

The Lost Adventures: The Lion King Audition

by Will


“I’m me again, baby! I’m back!”

So, where have I been? “We’ve been waiting a whole month for Post #450,” you say. Well, I had it all plannned out. If comics have taught me anything, it’s that round numbers, such as 450, equate a special occasion. Sure, you could say that I should’ve reached #450 over a year ago if I’d been posting everyday like other good bloggers, but I digress. In any regard, an event like this usually involves a new headquarters, a new status quo, a back-up story, and a death. I was really gonna WOW ya, but something was missing. Most of the components were in place, save one. It’s funny how life works sometimes…

Originally, I was going to use this post to debut the reason behind my recent lack of funds. That’s right, you were going to see the new West Lair! I got an apartment. Finally, I can get out of this Negroid Golden Girls lifestyle I’ve had to endure for the past 2 years. At last, I would have a place of my own, where I could hide from the discussions of Ben-Gay and Old Testament God vs. New Testament God. I would have my Fortress of Solitude.

Anyway, I signed the lease back on September 1st, and I was gonna move in Labor Day weekend. My Cousin Joe was gonna help me, mainly ’cause he had a pickup truck. Now, few of you have been to a West family function, but those of you who have (Tarek), have surely met my Cousin Joe. He’s basically like a brother to my mom (first person with the Southern incest jokes gets it!), and he’s one of the few father figures I’ve had in my life.

So, Cousin Joe was all set to help me move, but come Saturday morning, I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t packed up a thing, and I had no desire to rush crap into a box. So, I called Joe to tell him not to worry about me; we’d do it next weekend. He wasn’t there, so his wife, Rose, said she’d give him the message.

Fast-forward to about 3 hrs later: we get a call from Rose saying that Joe had been rushed to Washington Hospital Center. The Golden Girls jump into action, and we make our way down to the hospital. Turns out, Cousin Joe was washing his truck and had a massive heart attack. We were in that hospital all night, from 5 PM Saturday to 11 AM Sunday morning. The staff tried to brace us for the worst, but nobody wanted to hear it. Cousin Joe passed away Sunday morning. I still haven’t moved.

Since then, time has been wrapped up with funeral arrangements, as well as life’s other little dramas. The family hasn’t been taking it so well, and I can only think, “So, it begins.” You see, Joe was a year younger than my mother. I always felt that when the dying started, it would be like a domino effect. These people have been together all of their lives. They grew up together, moved north from Alabama together, and they don’t know how yo be apart. I fear it’s like when a husband dies, and his wife dies 6 months later. It’s a cohort effect, and Joe fired the opening salvo. Selfish, I know, but all I find I can be lately is selfish. I guess it’s my defense mechanism. I keep thinking how close I was to witnessing the heart attack. Had I not called, he might have had the heart attack WITH me, while moving MY crap. I don’t know if I could’ve handled that. No hyperbole there, I truly don’t think I could have held it together had that scenario transpired.

But here I am. I’m still alive, and I guess I’ve got that’s what I’ve got to work with. A lot of people think I’m a pessimist, but I feel it just comes with living with the old folks. Many of you don’t realize it, but I have to worry about things that most people dont even think about until their 40’s. And now I’m more worried about the gals than I have been before. But there’s my milestone post. There’s my death. This is no publicity stunt. He’s not coming back.

Anydangways, I also wanted to give y’all a nice back-up story, A hidden tale that few people know. You see, about a year and a half ago, I took a little blogging hiatus. Prompted by a bunch of personal drama that simply hit the fan, there are about 3 months of my life that went undocumented. One such event, I’ve hinted at, but never fully revealed. You see, right before I started working for H&M, I had delusions of actually continuing the whole singing thing, and I auditioned for the National tour of “The Lion King”.

In my unemployed days, I used to troll the classifieds in the Arts section of the Post, looking for auditions. Since I was still in my “I’m Will West” mindset, most of the community theatre productions were beneath me. I mean, I was THE Black voice of Cornell A Cappella! Cornell! A Cappella! “Today Show”! Surely, that meant something. I would have to wait, until a role came along befitting my stature. One day, I saw it: The Lion King. I mean, besides “Porgy and Bess” or “A Raisin in the Sun”, it’s probably the most sure thing in theatre if you’re Black. And if they aren’t doing colorblind casting!

Since I was days from starting H&M, I figured it was God’s way of saving me from the sad, dreary life of the proletariat. He would deliver me to the stage, to the spotlight that was destined to be mine. I was sure of it. All I needed was the right song. Immediately, I called up my old drama teacher, and we started to brainstorm. She wanted me to do something from when I was Pippin, but that wasn’t enough. She suggested a song from when I was in Hello, Dolly, but I was having none of it. I felt I needed a Disney song, but nothing actually from the Lion King. After all, it’s kinda dick/facetious to go into an audition with an air of “You know that song you guys sing? Well, I sing it better!” Anybody out there who’s sat through people auditioning for them knows exactly what I’m talking about. Finally, I settled on “A Whole New World”. It had been our graduation song (*gag*), but “Aladdin” is the next best thing to “The Lion King”, at least musically. I’d be showing them that I can sing “the Disney way”, without slaughtering one of their signature numbers.

I practiced for a week. I had it down. But the night before the audition, I decided to showboat a little. I realized my sheet music wasn’t in the right key for me, so in order to use it as accompaniment, I’d need to transpose it. Now, we’re gonna get musically technical, so try to bear with me. I downloaded a program, and moved the song to a range that I could sing, both comfortably and well. But when I was done, the song had about 8 accidentals. You know those little “flat” symbols? Yeah, I had 8 of them. But whatever, it’s Disney. They should be able to follow that, right?

When Last Call did the Today Show, it was really hard warming up vocally that early in the morning, so I decided not to sleep. After all, I could sleep after the audition. I spent all night practicing and warming up. Auditions were taking place at Howard University, so I was scared there was gonna be a LOT of competition. I mean, casting the Lion King at Howard is like finding Bush supporters at the 700 Club. I expected PANDEMONIUM, with a hip-hop soundtrack. I figured there would be lines around 12 city blocks, as we all vied for a chance to have our 15 minutes of fame. So, got down there at about 5:30 AM. Auditions started at 10:00. What did I find? Nothing. A whole lotta nothing. Plus, it was February and FREEZING. Plus, security doesn’t like random Black guys hanging around buildings. Even at a Black school! Go figure…

Around 11:00, the Hippie Chick shows up. You know the type. If you’ve ever been in a show, you’ve met her. She’s the girl who’s all about “The the-ah-tur”. You never know when she’s acting and when she’s living. It all blends together in a fake, blah soup. So, apparently, she’s all nervous, ’cause all she does it dinner theatre and she doesn’t know what to expect. Plus, she’s scared of her chances, seeing how it’s a Black show. Man, that was priceless. She was scared that she might face discrimination. I’m not gonna get preachy, ’cause it’s not what I do, but that schadenfraude was just what I needed at the time. Guess I should’ve known what was coming to me.

Soon, other people start to trickle in. You’ve got typical “stage dad” going, “My boy can sing. Watch my boy sing. Do that thing you do, boy!” You’ve got “classically trained Black chick”, who should be doing arias rather than hakuna matata’s. And you’ve got “sad R&B wannabe brother” who really just wishes he’d been in Soul for Real (whatever happened to those fugly Dalrymple boys?). You know the kind: all he can do is wail, but rather than music, what he emits sounds more like what I’d cry if I got my penis caught in my zipper.

And they’re all looking at me, like “Why’d you bring the White girl?” But I DIDN’T! Hippie chick came on her own. Just ’cause we were the first ones there didn’t mean she’s MY fault. Story of my life…

So, they start lining people up, and you’d have thought there were ribs up for grabs or something. Somehow, I actually get to go first, seeing as how some people had vouched for the fact that I’d been the first person there. So, finally, it was the moment of truth.

I walk into the room, and hand my music to the guy at the piano. I warn him about the accidentals, but he doesn’t seem worried. But here’s where I started to worry. He had just sat down as I walked into the room. They were running late, and he’d never even warmed up at the piano. Now, an expert should be able to play on any piano, but it’s still a good idea to get a feel for your instrument prior to performance. So, he starts banging out my music like a retarded kid trying to smash ants. I mean, he wasn’t even near my scale. But I’m just singing away, in MY key, him in another. I tried to give him some death glares, hoping he’d straighten up, but this only mademe look worse. When he was done, I knew I was done. Then, began the Q&A part of our morning.

“So…’William’, what have you done…musically?”

“Well, not much lately. I did a cappella and glee club in colege, but not much since I graduated. Mainly just karaoke hereand there. I’ve been in touch with my old music teacher, and we were going to work on some things.”

“Yeah…well, it might be a good idea to hook up with your ‘music teacher’. You know, to add a little more…technical ability to your…’natural gifts’.

That last line was the one that did it. It was a harsh, modernized, personalized “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

“Well, thank you for the opportunity. *fake smile* It was a really great experience.” And I walked out.

I kinda lingered for awhile, trying to understand what had just happened. I was NOT the best thing since sliced bread. I was NOT as great as I had made myself believe. And I WOULD be reporting to H&M on Monday. But hear me out, it was NOT my fault. Yes, my ego was out of whack, and I was in a bigger pond, but that was NOT my fault. I am my own worst critic, and I RARELY give myself credit. Heck, I never even thought of myself as “Will West”; that’s a caricature that other people had forced on me after concerts and whatnot. But I was ready, as ready as I could ever be, and I sounded GREAT! I wanted it, and I could taste it within my grasp. How it slipped away, I don’t know. Well, I DO know. It was the guy at the piano. But I guess what I will always wonder is “why”. Well, I guess everything happens for a reason, and I don’t have many complaints about the past year. In any regard, I saw the show about 3 weeks ago. It was good. A lot different than the cartoon. But it was nothing to write home about. Just something to blog about, apparently…

Here’s that variant cover. If youve been to James’s site, Jeen’s site, or the site of James’s e-mistress (Oh no he di’nt!), this’ll look familiar. Everybody on the avatar wagon!

avt_wilberforceclayborne_large-797888

10th Aug2005

RARB Likes Me! They Really Like Me!

by Will

“I love Connect Four. If my entire family died and a stranger offered to play Connect Four with me for a full afternoon, I’d skip the funeral and blame it on car troubles.”

Well, RARB has put up the review of “Straight Up”, Last Call’s latest CD. I had NO part of this CD, so it’s not like it makes or breaks me, but they’re still my boys, so I care.

http://www.rarb.org/reviews/554.html#

The BEST line of the whole thing: “Straight Up provides the most heterosexually dubious track list I’ve ever seen from an all guys group.” Not only do I agree, but that about sums up my entire life…

Anyway, I NEVER thought I’d read LC compared, favorably, to Off the Beat and the ‘Bubs. Who’da thunk, right?

Well, it’s certainly an ambitious album, as most of the reviews will attest. It seems like they’re catching Hell for using the a cappella equivalent of Kanye West and The Neptunes to produce the thing. All they did was start doing what every other group with a wad of cash to blow did. But I guess people expected more of LC or something.

Anyway, the CD never really screamed “Last Call” to me, but I liked it. Plus, the girlfriend liked it and outside of a few UMD Faux Pas references, I think she may be embarassed by the whole a cappella thing, so I guess the CD’s got “convert potential”…

04th Jul2005

Back To The Minors: From A Cappella To Karaoke

by Will

Today’s Episode: “Back to the Minors”

So, let me tell you about the cutthroat world of karaoke: you’re only as good as your last performance. And, you see, my problem is that I never know when to stop…when to leave well-enough alone.

About every 6 months, I feel the need to get back in the saddle and sing. Since I no longer have an a cappella outlet, I usually find myself at karaoke. My normal place is Cafe Japone, ’cause Eduardo and I kinda “discovered” it a few yrs ago.

Anyway, I usually go around a holiday, and I go alone. As much as it may surprise some, I’m still very shy and get stagefright with the worst of them. I’d rather be with strangers than with friends.

So, i normally sing about 3 songs, and it’s that third one that I should always leave off the list. You see, my first two songs are “One More Try”, by George Michael and “Hello”, by Lionel Richie. Now, I’ve got to say that I’m not usually a favorite a karaoke. The key to success is picking a “crowd song” that everyone wants to sing, like “Sweet Caroline.” But I dont play by the rules. I’m the guy who has to sing the slow songs. But don’t knock my choices. I’ve almost had marriage proposals for singing those songs, I shit you not! But what happens is, I get off on the accolades from the first 2, and usually choose a bad song for #3. Normally, it’s song I’ve never done, but have enjoyed singing along to on the radio. And, normally, it bombs, and it’s amazing how quickly your “fans” turn on you.

Tonight was one of those nights.

I was bored as crap, Shelly was having a “girls night”, and nobody else was returning my calls. So, I found myself at Cafe Japone. I got my drink, and chose my songs. Sure enough, I chose “One More Try” and “Hello”. Due to lack of shuffle, they ended up back to back. At first, the crowd didn’t know what to make of me. The night had been dominated by some kind of South American summit, and they had commandeered the playlist. My songs came on, and they warmed up to me. Yup, still had it. But I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I HAD to choose a risky third.

While I was choosing my comeback track, this chick came out of nowhere and kicked ASS on Leann Rimes’ “How Do I Live”. Now, that’s also my Karaoke Achilles Heel: competition. There are 2 kinds of people at karaoke: 1) The Crowd Song Drunk and 2) The Competitor. You see, I usually enter the arena as the latter, but it’s only good when everyone else is the former. When another #2 enters, it’s “Oh, shit.” It’s kinda like when another Black guy would enter that frat party back at Cornell (C’mon, y’all have seen “Not Another Teen Movie!). Anyway, it blows the wind out of my sails and makes me all self-conscious.

So, she knocked the song out of the park, and the lines were drawn in the sand. It was between me and her, and she had the advantage that she was in the party of South Americans. Her fanbase was loaded (Nice, play on words, Will). So, it was time for my encore, which I had already decided would be my final song of the night. Go out on top, right? WRONG. What did I choose? “Flying Without Wings”, commonly known as a Ruben Studdard song.

Now, I say “commonly known” because the Ruben version is the one that 9 out of 10 people know. But anyone with knowledge of European pop (and I figured the South Americans might know this, too) knows that it was originally a #1 hit by Irish boyband, Westlife. Now, this was my first mistake: choosing an obscure song. My next mistake was trying to reinterpret it. I’ve always hated Ruben’s version. I felt he played it safe. So I decided to sing the Westlife version, but the backing track was for Ruben. Also consider the fact that there were different chord progressions, and it’s not like I had practiced it before. I was singing without wings, and didn’t have a parachute.

So, I got up, did my thing, but my thing wasn’t good enough. Early into the song, the South Americans were booing me, as if I’d scored in the wrong goal or something. I persevered, and finished the song. My reward? A lone clap from someone in a corner. Everyone else had either intensified their conversation or just forgotten that I was even up there.

Now, let me tell you about my fans. There was this “reverse 3’s company thing” going on next to me at the bar. This chick was there with her 2 gay guy friends, and they were just chillin’ with some sushi. After my first set, they were like, “You were awesome!” I went on to tell ’em it was only because of a cappella. They asked where I’d gone to school/sung, and I told ’em Cornell. The girl had actually heard of Last Call, and I instantly had friends. Another guy friend showed up, and he leans over and says, “So, I hear you’re incredible at this”. Now, this was following Clone Leann had done her song, so I wasn’t feeling too confident. I told him, “Well, it’s really all about your song choice.” Man, was I sorry to be right. My song choice, “Flying without Wings” was NOT a good one, and my new friends did not notice me again. In fact, you could tell they were going out of their way to not really look at me, so as not to have it be awkward. Funny how that works…

So, I got my check, which took forever, and I walked out into the DC night. I only do this every 6 months because of nights like this. It takes me that long to get back on the horse again. I wondered if I still had it, I found out that I did, and then I took it too far. During the 6 months, I’ll go to the redneck karaoke and hone my skills. The “minors”, if you will. You see, at redneck karaoke, everyone’s a drunken crowd singer. You might get the “pro”, but he’s not competing. He just brings his own CDs, and REALLY gets into the songs. But it’s all about him, and no one else in the bar. It’s a good place to get your courage back because your ability to make friends and fans is directly proportional to how drunk you’re all willing to get. And that’s never a problem. DC karaoke is chock full of former a cappella, Capitol Hill interns, looking for one last shot at glory. And they always kick my ass. I don’t know if it’s really a vocal thing, or if it’s the thoughts in the back of my head saying, “They have great jobs and great lives. They don’t NEED this. They’re doing this for fun.” I wish I could say the same, but I put all my eggs in this basket ’cause I’m an attention whore. I NEED this. I think back to the college days when I was singing and happy, and the world was my oyster. I was gonna rule the world when I graduated. Well, I kinda ruled a department at H&M for a while, but that was about it.

Karaoke, to me, is a test to prove that my college career was not in vain. Most people use college to network and study; generally plan for their futures. I, on the other hand, used college for singing. It brought me confidence and took the stress off, but a cappella’s what consumed my college career. So, unlike a graduate degree or some specialized skill, what I took away from college was singing. And karaoke is the only place I can get any use out of this. Wow, I guess college WAS in vain. I know, some of you are gonna say, “Don’t sell yourself short, Will.” And, I guess you’re right. But, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go practice. I’ve got a rematch in December…

06th Apr2005

Last Call SUX

by Will

Tonight’s Episode: “Join Me Brother In Song Tonight-The Last Call Story”

Starring Meredith Baxter (she dropped the Birney), Valerie Bertinelli, Judith Light, and Chad Lowe.

Wow, that movie would suck! All the f-list acting Lifetime money could buy, and that movie would be an utter turd. But I still kinda wanna see it…

Anydangways, last weekend, Lip, Cape, and I went to Cornell for Straight Up 10, or as we fondly refer to it, “Last Call SUX”. ‘Cause we do. But in a good way.

As far as LC is concerned, we had special guest stars out the wazoo. But you won’t care if you didn’t go to Cornell. Jed Farlow, Pete Bronski, Keith “Let Me See That Thong” Herrador… For anybody out there with a vagina, we had the Latin lover known as Eduardo, wooing the laides with his Freddy Mercury-channeling-Gay Elvis rendition of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”. We had a rare appearance by Jonny Wu, AKA Armani Jonny. Anthony “Gooseberry” Cuccia made an appearance. We even had LC Superfan Lenora Lee. All in all, it was a pretty good showing for the LC alums.

The show was TIGHT. The current group was tighter than I’ve ever heard LC, and they’ve got some AMAZING members. Jamie kicking ass on a Temptations song?I was also jealous of the comedy. I worship at the feet of ANY man who can pen a skit called, “Pimp My Couch”!

The alums performed a set, where I got to sing Depeche Mode’s “Somebody”. While a part of me would’ve loved singing “Lean on Me”, Nishant’s incredible on it, and it’s rightly his song now. When people come to an LC show, they beg for that song, but they’re begging for his rendition. Rightly so…

After the show, we all went to “go get fucked up at the Chariot”. That was a fun afterparty, hands down. I lost track of the Alabama Slammers, and the next thing I knew, DT and I were doing shots of Tequila and Lemon Drops. I’m SO not a shots kid, but I’ve gotta let those theatre kids know I can hang! Plus, it was DT…

After the debauchery at the Chariot waned, we headed over to the Kurnos crib for the after-after (No, babe. There was No hotel lobby!) But that was THE BEST AFTER, AFTER I’ve ever been to!!! It was a fucking cauldron. But it was hot. It was kinda like the “I’m a Slave For U” video; nothing but people, alcohol, and sweat. The place started reeking like a locker room, but we were too drunk to really care. And somehow, I lost track of everybody I knew at the after-after. i mean, they had to be there somewhere, and it was a SMALL apt, but familiars simply disappeared. I did, however meet cool, new people. Jules, you rock! Dan Chang, you are a dancing fool! Jonny, I now know what rhymes with “shlabbid bump”…

I think the beauty of the weekend was the reconnecting with old friends. During the show, there was a skit about the facebook, and how pervasive it’s become, but also how useful it can be. Both live friends and e-friends, I have been on a reconnecting HIGH. Kim B, it was awesome seeing you again! Tarpinian, it was great seeing you; maybe next time the dancing aliens will make a visit. Bridget, who knew the Chordials’ ‘Snow White’ could dance like that? All you AKPsi’s, “In U…&I….”, kiddies! Tat, you’re a musical genius! G, can’t believe you’re a fucking traitor…but you know I love ya 😛 And Tarek, I knew you were coming. You knew you were coming. Why’d we have to go through those hoops?!!

Anyway, this is kind of a ramble post ’cause I felt I should write something. To all you old friends, and all the new ones, it was an awesome weekend. Keep in touch, and I hope you enjoy the site!

*Guests of williambrucewest.com stay at the Economy Inn while in Ithaca.
**If you didn’t get a shout-out, it’s ’cause I was prolly too drunk to remember you. No worries, you’re in my heart, somewhere….

17th Mar2005

Boston & The West-1

by Will

Zorak, it is OK if you are afraid of me. Most sissies are!”

BOSTON!!!

So, a few weeks ago, Shelly and I embarked upon a journey to America’s chowdah capital. Yes, folks, we’re talking BOSTON, MASS! For the uninformed, this trip was actually Shel’s Christmas present to me, and it was certainly the best present I’ve received in quite some time.

Our adventure began on the morning of February 24th, as we prayed the airports would stay open long enough for us to leave this God-forsaken town. There was more snow blowing around than on a model’s bathroom counter! But we hoped that the planes would stay aloft just to spirit us to our long-awaited, and well-needed vacation.

Either way, we made it to Boston, and received the longest cab tour possible. Way to pad the fare, my man! Imagine our surprise when we pulled up to the fabulous and magnificent Omni Parker House.

This hotel was like a palace! It was beeyootyfull! And my typing “beautiful” like that is exactly the reason we had NO BUSINESS staying there. The staff looked at us like, “What do you all think you’re doing here?” But the joke was on them, for we had reservations. Check-in was smooth, except they conveniently forgot to give us the key to the minibar. A problem we’ll soon rectify.

Anyway, we got started on the room service, a practice that would become quite common and welcome over the weekend. The dude brought the food, and I didn’t know a damn thing he was saying. What kind of weird patois do they teacj you Bostonians? It was like speaking to a drunk Kennedy (was that redundant?). Either way, it’s like a fast, New Yawky slur, topped off with random tidbits regarding the Sox. I was gonna need a Stiglitz guide to understand these folks!

Later that evening, we navigated the T system and found our way to Malden to have dinner with Big T and his sweet lady, Dawn. Tarek met us at the station, and we went grocery shopping with him. Apparently, he was going all Iron Chef that night, and preparing some sort of Mega Feast. When we’d finished shopping, we got to meet Dawn, who was even nicer than she’d come off electronically (after all, all my prior dealings with her had been over the phone or internet). But she’s a great girl and she kicks the ass of any of other Tarek Girl. We went back to their place, and had a HOT swinging session! I keed, I keed! No, they both prepared a lovely feast for Shelly and me, as we educated ourselves on the finer points of Tivo. We also got to meet their pet, who for the moment I’ll refer to as, “The Turtle Formerly Known as Otto Von Bismarck” (For more details, visit http://www.livejournal.com/users/palaedorian )

Tarek should be a chef! If you’d seen the presentation of this meal! Chicken fried rice, served inside a pineapple! Dumplings! Satay Gai! Chicken & pasta! Mint Ice Cream log! IT was all so de-lish! After dinner and the tour, we were off to visit Alisa, Shelly’s friend from high school. Well, the journey wasn’t that smooth. We kinda got lost on the T system. That bitch is confusing! I think it’d be easier to dig a hole to China than try navigating Boston on the subway. (Jenn’s gonna respond to this post, and all she’s gonna do is talk about that very line right there-bet you $20!) We found our way to the surface, but the surface dwellers were of no help. We were in the theatre district, and the patrons did not seem to see us.

So, Saturday was a split-up day: Shelly was gonna have a Girls Day, while I was gonna hang out with T. Originally, I wanted to record. It’s been awhile, and I wanted to throw together a new song to put up on the site. But when I woke up, i wasn’t really feelin’ the singing. Instead, I wanted Tarek to show me “his Boston”. My main sights to see were Cheers and the Harbor. other than that, anything was fair game. Before meeting up, though, I wanted to check out the neighborhood, as well. For starters, our hotel was next to one of the biggest Borders Books that I have ever seen. But I knew better than to explore that without Shelly. So, my mission was used CDs. You see, Boston’s got a lot of colleges. Which means lots of college kids. Which translates into big exchange scene for music. I figured I could find some premium used swag if I knew where to look. So, I hit Strawberries and bunch of other places, totally cleaning out Boston’s Elton John inventory. I’m sure they’re thanking me, and I can’t exactly explain this recent Elton kick. The man is awesome, though! A fucking loon, but awesome! But I digress…

After going in the wrong direction, i finally meet up with Tarek and Dawn. We decided to head to lunch in the North End, where there are more Italian restaurants than day laborers at Home Depot. On the way, we stopped by Newbury Comics. Let me tell ya, Newbury Comics is well-known chain in the Northeast that specializes in music and comics. Did y’all hear me correctly? Music and Comics. I’m gonna need a towel….

After Newbury, we looked all over the North End for a good, cheap lunch. We were in that nexus where restaurants were just finishing lunch and preparing for dinner, so the race was on. We found a nice little place. Kinda cliche. The sort of place you see in movies, where everyone who works there’s related and they’re yelling to each other at different ends of the restautant. Stereotypes be damned, the place was authentic. And I felt like such a fat kid ’cause I ordered a small pizza, but they told me they had a new kid working and the guy had accidentally used the large pans. So, I got a large but was charged for a small. Man, that was a LOT of pizza.

Anyway, we all decided that we’d go for karaoke that night, along with some of Alisa’s friends. I was excited ’cause it was KARAOKE!!! But T and Dawn weren’t so sure. They’re early birds. Didn’t want to mess up their sleep cycles. I gotta respect that. I kinda wish I had a sleep routine. But in a way, they’re like an old married couple. Yup, OLD MARRIED COUPLE!!! I’m gonna get a response for that! Anyway, I also thought it would be a great time to see Austin, an old buddy from Cornell, so i called him and invited him to the night’s festivities. Dawn and T decided they were in for karaoke, too. Shelly and the girls broke off, while the law offices of West, Sultani and Hersey checked out H&M and Filene’s. “You went to H&M on your vacation?” Yeah, I did. I had to check it out. See if they were meeting their standards. And they weren’t. I almost cussed out the bitch responsible for the Men’s dept. ’cause she was SO scared I was gonna mess up the rack! Amateurs… I headed back to the hotel, while T&D Productions headed back to Malden to get ready.

I caught up with Austin, and he was going to meet us at the bar. But When Tarek and Dawn found out how late we were planning on going, they bailed. Understandable, but they missed a good time. We ended up at this little redneck bar, but they took their karaoke seriously. Now, I love me some karaoke, but I’m a crooner. I don’t do “fast songs”. I do “make ya panties wet” songs. Yeah, I said it. Interesting fact: James uses me on his sex CD. Not quite sure how I feel about that…who am I kidding, i fucking LOVE that! So, imagine my chagrin when the ladies told me no slow songs. Apparently, they frowned on that at this particular bar. In the meantime, enter Austin.

Let me tell ya, Austin is one of my favorite people from Cornell. It’s funny, too, ’cause we didn’t start talking until around late junior yr, but he’s definitely one of the rare people who fall into the “I get Will and where he comes from” category. That’s a rare breed. In the past 2 yrs, our only contact had been online, but I knew I HAD to see him before leaving Boston. So, he walked into the bar, and pulled up a chair. And so began the drinking. He hadn’t heard me sing in awhile, and i was feeling a bit apprehensive, so he felt I needed some “lubrication”. He introduced me to Jagermeister. Now, understand if I was a bit apprehensive; no one I know has a good Jager story. they’re always like, “Dude, I had some Jager, and then next thing I knew, I’d killed a guy. Damn, was I sick the next day!”. But it didn’t take much coddling for me to give in. I must say, that stuff was good. We kept pounding them and Jack & Cokes as we waited for my song. In the meantime, Alisa’s friend did a mean rendition of Ice, Ice Baby. Eventually, my song came up: “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg”, by the Temptations. Now, I’ve never attempted that song before but, in my drunken state, I was convinced I’d be able to channel the spirit of David Ruffin. To be honest, I don’t remember much of that performance. People cheered and stuff, but I equate karaoke to college a cappella: there’s a certain audience that enjoys it, and if you’ve got the right group of people, you could shit in a bag and they’ll still cheer for you. Regardless, it was fun and oddly therapeutic. We talked Austin into hanging out longer, and while we tried getting him back to the Omni Parker, he invited us to his place. We felt bad ’cause we didn’t wanna disturb his girlfriend, who was under the weather, but we went back anyway.

At the door, we met Tizer, the best dog in the world! He was awesome! So smart and frisky. Why is his name Tizer? Well, it’s actually short for “Appetizer”, a jab at the totally un-PC notion that Asian people eat their dogs. I thought that was a hilarious way to buck those kinds of stereotypes. Anyway, Shelly fell in love with Tizer, while Austin and I got all philosophical about our Cornell experience. I felt bad leaving Shel out of the conversation, but Austin and I had similar Cornell experiences, and it was so great to finally have someone to just vent to and get a lot of stuff off of my chest. And did we mention how awesome Tizer was? I wanna dog…So, around 4 Am, we bid Austin adieu and got a cab back to the hotel. It was a GREAT evening, and it kinda makes me wish Austin lived closer…

On Sunday, we found ourselves back in the North End, at a different Italian place. The food was INCREDIBLE. I’m not a person who’s used to “good” food in establishments. I can pretty much eat anything, but I rarely walk away thinking, “That was an incredible meal.” It usually borders on, “Man, I’m so full of shit right now!” Anyway, I find myself waking up, longing for that food lately. And I can’t even remember the name of the restaurant. Maybe it wasn’t really there…

We headed to Malden for sushi with Tarek and Dawn. I lost my sushinity and liked what I tried. Spider rolls are the bomb, and i find myself craving them like it’s my job! Philadelphia rolls, on the other hand, kinda suck. Can’t deal with that cream cheese in there. SUCH a weird consistency! Anyway, we went back to their place and watched the Oscars while consuming chocolate cake and Andre. What is Andre? Only the BEST cheap champagne this side of a 7/11! Check it out today! Soon, we were taken back to the T, and said our goodbyes to Tarek and Dawn. We didn’t spend as much time with them as we could have, but I enjoyed what time we did spend together.

On the ride back to the hotel, Shel and I had one final laugh about the billboard up on the train for 1-800-SAFE-BABY (I know that’s too many characters, so I’m sure I got something wrong there), Anyway, we’d seen these ads since our first day in town, and they were always funny in a sick kind of way. Apparently, Boston has a sizaeble newborn abandonment problem. So, if you have an unwanted baby and you’re thinking of dumping it somewhere, you call this hotline, and they’ll tell you where you can take your baby and avoid prosecution. A good service, no doubt, but it kinda makes ya wonder how big the problem is when there are ads for it EVERYWHERE!! I wish I’d stolen one of the ads from a train…

On the flight home, somehow, the flight attendant took an immediate liking to me. I guess that’s what I get for reading a comic/toy magazine in public. All of a sudden, there was an incessant stream of fanboy questions, such as “Which comic movie would you like to see that hasn’t been made yet?” Don’t get me wrong; these are my people, but you’ve gotta deal with them in doses. It’s a different story when you’re a couple thousand miles in the air, with no means of escape, PLUS this person is responsible for your comfort. Better put on a smile. Especially if you want a crack at the liquor cart. He was a nice guy, and I could totally go on for hours about comics stuff, but I had to harness it in public.

Epilogue:

Flashback: While I was in Boston, it was the weekend of the Montgomery County Auto Auction. I couldn’t go, but Mommy was really excited about it. Her mission was to get me a car, She’d always promised, “If you get your license, I’ll buy you a little car.” So, after my cousins had had success at the auction, she decided that she was take that route as well. So, the mission was simple. My only specification? “Don’t buy me anything ugly.” So, all day Saturday, I was tense ’cause I was supposed to be a good guest for Tarek, but i was also wondering whether or not I had a car. So, around 7, I called Mommy and asked how the auction had gone. She sounded kinda distraught, and i was getting worried. She started with some story about a nice Lexus she’d seen and bid on, but how it was snapped up for about $15K. And then she trailed off. I got kinda testy and asked if she’d bid on any other car. She wasn’t cooperating, which just got me more stressed. Finally, she said, “I got you a car.”

There it was in my driveway, lightly dusted with snow. Yup, she got me a 1993 Anniversary Edition Honda Accord, or as I like to call him: the West-1. We’ve still got some work to do, such as buy a new battery and a tire, so the West-1 will be in drydock for a few more weeks, but stay tuned for the unveiling.

And that, folks, is the tale of a little trip to Boston. I’d like to thank Tarek, Dawn, Alisa, Erin, Austin, and the staff of the Omni Parker House.


(not actual car)

06th Feb2005

Will Answers Your Questions!

by Will

WILL ANSWERS I

  • If you were stranded on a desert island and could only have one CD, one food, and one tv character with you for three years…. what would they be?

    If I only had one CD, it would have to be “Journey: Greatest Hits”. Laugh if you wish, but this CD has EVERYTHING. Plus, as cheesy as people like to remember Journey, they inspired every major pop/soft star today. Now, you may not exactly like these styles of music, but greats such as Mariah Carey (the Good Mariah, not the hooch Mariah) list them among their top influences.

    Plus, you’ve got any style you want on one disc. For a romantic slow song, you’ve got “Faithfully” or “Open Arms”. For the pensive, brooding song, you’ve got “Send Her My Love.” And the sheer bombast of “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” would motivate me to construct my Raft To Freedom.

    One food? That would have to be Monogolian BBQ from Cornell Dining. There’s a reason it was voted #1 dining hall in the country. Plus, I DID live off of it for an entire year. I ate it everyday, sometimes twice. Ask anyone. It’s how I got my Sophomore 30!

    One TV character? The Adam West Batman. Come on, is there ANYONE more entertaining? This guy was the George W. of Superheroes; just looking at him, you knew he had NO BUSINESS in that role, wearing that suit, but he overacted hard enough that it was SO bad it was good.

    Plus, it’d be hilarious to spend 3 yrs with him, as he kept pulling stuff out of his utility belt, such as Bat-Shark repellant, which would inevitably fail to provide rescue or safety. It’d kind of be like an experiment to see how far a man must fall before he cracks. ‘Cause I get the feeling that, for the 1st yr, he won’t even take off his mask. He’d take off the cape, maybe even the suit. But I feel like he’d be stark-ass naked on that island just wearing a cowl, and you can’t PAY for that kind of stranded entertainment.

  • For the sake of posing a more original question:

    Have you ever written any songs of your own?

    -Karlos

“More original question”…I smell a catfight! Anyway, no, I haven’t written any songs of my own. Why? Because that part of my brain doesn’t work. It’s true!

You see, I’m a smart kid. I’m at a place in my life where I can honestly say that. BUT,
don’t get “abstract”. I can think outside of the box, but the creative, like lyrics and poetry, eludes me. You have to hit me in the face with a dead cat to understand poetry.

I get the themes, such as Winter is Death, yadda yadda, but when someone is trying to
convey their feelings, I get lost. That’s why I hate when people are like, “Listen to this
song -the lyrics mean so much to me.” And the song turns out to be “Glycerine” or something, and all I can say is, ‘Wow, I love this song. It’s awesome!” And they respond with, “It’s not awesome; in fact, it made me consider taking my life.” No joke, I’ve been in these situations.

I tried to write songs, but they all ended up as those country-esque “I’m so lonely” songs, and there are really only so many times that it should be legal to rhyme “heart” & apart” or “alone & phone”. Hell, what did people rhyme with “alone” prior to Bell’s nefarious, yet convenient, invention?

I have, however, composed songs. You see, prior to the a cappella, I played piano for 10
yrs. When I started singing, I had to use the piano part of my brain. Now, when i was
playing, I was “classically trained” (am I the only person who hates how pretentious tha
sounds?) , but I only used that to play all of the cliche parlor songs, such as Fur Elise an
Moonlight Sonata. My true passion was New Age. Laugh if you want, but nothing calms
me down like Enya & “Pure Moods”. So, I started composing New Age music. I had a
Music Technology class in high school with synthesizers and stuff, so by graduation, I had a good album’s worth of material. But, get this, the school went under, and they have no idea where my disc is. If that shit resurfaces…

But my New Age claims to fame are “Silver”, named after my mother, and ‘Ellie’s Mirage”, written for my grandmother, who loved to hear me play.

Oh, and I play a MEAN rendition of the Star Trek: Voyager Theme!

17th Jan2005

Williambrucewest.com “We Don’t Stop Playing…” Tour 2005

by Will

Williambrucewest.com “We Don’t Stop Playing…” Tour 2005

Yes, we’re coming to a town near you, to bring you all the Will West goodness you’ve come to love online. Come meet Will & have a drink with him. The more he drinks, the funnier he becomes (at least, that’s what that hooker told me…)

Anyway, come along the fantastic voyage, ’cause we’ve got some great guests lined up. Some of these guests include Shelly, Tarek, Austin, James, Jenn, Lip, and a whole cavalcade of stars. If you’ve ever wanted to meet any of them, or if you just wanna tell ’em how you’re such a big fan of their work, come on down!

Tentative Schedule

1/25 Website Launch Anniversary Summit, TBA

1/29 Washington, DC Washington DC Comic-Con

2/24 Boston, MA Bones Annual Conference

2/25 Boston, MA Tarek Sultani Memorial Golf Tournament

2/26 Boston, MA Jed Farlow Guitar Workshop

2/27 Boston, MA Where’s Evan?!! Austria?!!!

2/28 Boston, MA Harvard Square Encore Performance XV

4/1 Ithaca, NY Last Call Presents: Last Call SUX, Straight Up X

4/2 Ithaca, NY Last Call Presents: Hungover With The Hangovers

4/3 Ithaca, NY Last Call Presents: We Didn’t Go To Harvard, My Black Ass!

There will also be frequent, private shows in Silver Spring, MD. But you’ve gotta know somebody to get on that list…

More Dates To Be Added

Let me know if you wanna be on the Street Team!

22nd Dec2004

Quarterlife Crisis

by Will

Today’s Episode: “Dangling Plotlines Revealed”

Everyone seems to have a “Quarterlife Crisis” post, so I figured I’d weigh in. You’re about to learn some things I haven’t really discussed herer before.

So, a year ago today, I had a nervous breakdown. Was it medically diagnosed? No. But I know enough to know what a nervous breakdown entails; I was a psych major. I had all of the symptoms. I wasn’t hospitalized or anything…that came about a month later.

You see, coming back home was the hardest transition I’ve ever had to make. I’ve been to Russia, France, Italy, The Today Show…I’ve been all of these places, but I still wound up back at home. Who’s fault was that? Well, we’ll get to that. The bottom line was that I’d experienced life and seen the world, but when the dust settled, I was back in the same bed, looking at the same War of 1812 wallpaper that I’d grown up within. It’s sort of hard to see where you’re going when you can’t truly convince yourself that you’ve been anywhere.

I didn’t look for work while a senior. That would’ve been the smart thing to do, but I was more interested in grades. I had “majored” in a cappella for the first two yrs, and my grades went to shit. Junior yr, I decided to focus more on school. Part of that was probably because Jennine was a freakin’ braniac, and I felt insecure as “the dumb guy”. Was I dumb? By no means, but I sure wasn’t a shining Cornellian. Nothing like good old envy & competition to remind you how unsatisfied you are…

Since my grades had declined during the first two yrs, my goal was simply to graduate with a 3.0. Not that hard, right? I mean, for all practical purposes, it was a “B”. I was totally an “A” student in high school, so a little more work would do the trick, right? Wrong. Those 4 semesters kicked my ass. Did I improve? Yes, but I focused more on closing Cornell out the right way, rather than investing in life after Cornell.

Did I get my 3.0? No. I got a 2.97. For goodness, sake! a 2.97! I worked like I’d never worked before, but what was I left with? I missed my goal, and I didn’t have a job.

What did I want to do with my life? Well, I think I took the easy approach: I wanted to do something concerning my interests. I loved toys, so….you get the picture. I was gonna work in the toy industry. Yup, just like “Big”. That was going to be my job. Did i ever really think I’d get said job? Not sure. I mean, I’ve pretty much gotten everything I’ve wanted. I’m an only child. We’re spoiled. I had certainly painted an image in my head of pursuing that career, but can I really say I tried?

I need support. I hate it, but I deal on external attention. I feel that I would’ve been great in the toy industry, but no one else seemed to think so. I had NO support. Maybe people felt, “Oh, he’s just chasing a foolish dream.” Either way, no one was in my corner.

I came home, and my family just ignored any goals I had. All I heard was, “You need to work in the federal government!” Day in and day out. That’s all they had known. They couldn’t have survived private industry, so they took the easy road. They wanted to act as if they were all about “job security”, but mainly they wanted me to take the “safe route”. They didn’t really have faith in any of my ideas. I SO wish I was a stronger person, but I can’t say that I am. That truly affected me…

I’d hear my mother talk on the phone. Everyone would call, asking, “What’s William doing? Does he have a job?” I’d hear her launch into this little spiel about, “Well, he wants to work in the toy industry…” but her inflection clearly stated that she was belittling the whole thing. She’s all I’ve had for all of these yrs, and she has no faith in me. That hurt.

All of this kept building, from October to December. Day in and day out. All they did was guilt me that I wasn’t doing more. reminding me that I’d “gone up to Cornell.” I can’t tell you have much that bothered me. It’s not like I really had a choice. I HAD to go to Cornell. Yes, great school, but didn’t know what I’d do with it. It was a blessing and a curse. Insecurity issues…

So, here’s why this is all so bad. Wanna know a secret? Wanna know my biggest fear? My biggest fear is that my mother will die before I’m completely independent. Yes, I’m 22 and it’s sad that I don’t know how to do a lot of things, but acknowledging that is the first step to solving the problem. Anyway, a lot of people may have this fear, but how many of them have a 66 yr old mother? Yes, you can go at anytime, but the older you get, the more likely the odds. I have a mother and two aunts who are all 60+. Let’s face facts: I’m going to be alone one day. We all are. But will that day be soon? If so, I’m not ready.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t LIKE being dependent. I want SO BADLY to be independent. I want to know the experience of driving your own car. Of returning from work to your own, quiet apartment. I want to experience stumbling home at night and not worrying about waking up anybody. I didn’t like where my life was. I was too old for this. I’ve done too much, and lived too much, to go back to this. This was all of the stuff that was boiling inside of me for those long months.

I have been chided and protected from everything, but also at the cost of my own individuality. Who am I? I don’t know. I have been living for other people for SO LONG> There are people who say, “Be your own person, etc”. But it’s not that simple. I can’t just shrug these people off. But they expected SO much of me. It was too much to handle. I only knew who I was expected to be. And I did my best to fulfill that role. What did I want? I think I was bothered by the fact that my father wasn’t here to offer either a pro or con. Were mommy and the aunts pushing me in the right direction? Sometimes, you need to a good “con” to appreciate how good the “pros” are. But there was no one to offer that con.

So, that’s what kicked it off. I miss my dad. How? Not sure. Didn’t really know him. And that’s the point. I don’t know what I got from his side of the family. Is that where the insecurity comes from? Is that why I’m initially shy with people? Since I wasn’t getting what I needed from those around me, I kinda retreated into a “What Would Daddy Do?” mindset. This was bad because I had no clue what Daddy would do. So, I got even more lost. Neglected the approval of the living, I sought the approval of the dead. Sooner or later, it turned into “What would Grandaddy do?” or “what would Pam and Doyle do?” (For the record, they’re my half-sib…or at least, they would’ve been). Anyway, they were all dead. Not the healthiest of circumstances.

After that longwinded rant, I guess I should focus on December 22, 2003. What happened that day? Well, I had hit bottom. And my birthday was coming up, and I was nowhere I wanted my life to be. I guess it’s nobody’s fault but mine. But I was lost and had no direction. So, I just kinda blew up. Exploded. Can’t describe it. I had been volatile for some months, and Mommy felt I needed medication, but at this point is was very Me vs. Them. They all wanted their lives easier, I felt, which is why they wanted me on medication. I kept telling myself, “They are the crazy ones!”

But I just…I want to write about this, but I can’t. Not because I don’t want to share, but it really can’t be written. You truly had to be there. But it was not pretty. And I just kind of went off on Mommy about how I was here because of her. She’d never let me learn to do for myself. I didn’t know how to do a damn thing for myself, and it was only a matter of time before she’d leave me like Daddy did. It destroyed me that i was SO helpless. But I never created that model. I’m a loner. I could’ve and would’ve learned how to get on by myself, had I not been robbed of the chance. I never asked people to do for me, and I’ve never been lazy, expecting them to do for me. But I wasn’t given the chance, so I never learned. The beauty of this whole phase of life was Mommy, who had been the czar, tried to adopt this tough-love, fend for yourself attitude that just didn’t gel. I have lived for her for 22 years, and it seems like it’s all for show sometimes. Yes, she’s proud, but how much of this stuff would I have done if not forced. yeah, I’ve had some great experiences, but I’ve also had some bad. How the fuck was I supposed just up and cold turkey do for myself, when I knew nothing? Yes, many people do this all the time, but it was so unchracteristic for her. As sick as I may have been, I definitely feel it was two-sided. She was neither supportive nor encouraging about the whole sitaution.

So, after the emotional eruption, the likes of which I’d never endured prior, we talked. I mean, really talked. We got to the bottom of a lot of this stuff I’d never shared. And she promised we’d work through all of this. She didn’t know how deeply my fear of abandonment ran. Here’s an example of how bad it is: I don’t let anyone of them call me before noon. Why? Because they’re all late sleepers. Anytime I kept a phone call in the morning, I say to myself, ‘Brace yourself. This is gonna be that call.” It may sound crazy, but you’ve never been me.

During this talk, we made a promise that we were going to change all of this. We’d work through it together and help me come to some new understanding. Well, that was December 22, 2003. But it was FAR from over.

Now, he we are, one yr later. But why do I feel in the same place? Yes, I have great people and things in my life, but why so unfulfilled? Why is this supposed to be so hard? People like to say, “You’ll look back on this and laugh”, but I doubt it. You laugh about the time you farted in church. This, this is not a laughing matter. Has anything improved? Yes, many things. But why don’t I feel as if I’m making ANY progress?

I hope this hasn’t changed the way any of y’all thought about me, but it needed to be said. Don’t get me wrong. I’m much better now, and I love my family to death; don’t think this was an attack at them. It just explains what happened during what I’ve referred to as my “blogging hiatus”. I was gonna give it up. Had nothing to say, and life was going nowhere. One year later, blog’s in pretty good shape. But the rest of me…

Sorry for the downer. Tomorrow, I’ll return to posts about chipmunk death penalties and the joys of Baywatch. You know, the stuff I’m famous for…

28th Oct2004

The One Where Carlton Plays Me In The TV Movie…

by Will

OK, I think I’ve completed the “Race Traitor” blog series…

I am so NOT a race-centered, Black Power kind of person. Anyone can tell you this. My a cappella group members ROUTINELY reminded me “Hey, I’m Blacker than you, Will!” My fucking a cappella group! Can you imagine being punked by an a cappella group? That’s like being an able-bodied, healthy person who loses the Special Olympics! That’s wrong, I know. But I had to get the point across (Love you, Last Call!)

I was the laughing stock of Cornell’s Africana Dept because I wasn’t Black enough. I was “pre-encounter” as they liked to call it.

Well, fuck ’em. I bamboozled them into signing off on my joint major, and for a pre-encounter boy, I sure have a pretty certificate that says otherwise…

I’m Black enough to get away with the jokes, and isn’t that really all that matters? 😛

Anyway, I’m not sure where all those posts came from. I think it was just stuff I always wanted to say, but felt I shouldn’t.

Anyway, I figure it’s time to stop before Ossie Davis and his NAACP pals show up at my door, looking pissed.

‘Cause you know what’ll happen next: They’ll kill me. But wait, there’s more.

Next, they’ll make a movie about it. It’ll be one of those BET Originals. AKA, “Shit not worth the film it’s on, starring Shemar Moore.” I swear, Shemar Moore is a beautiful man. Even I must admit that. He’s like the male Halle Berry. But he couldn’t act his way out of a Taiwanese whorehouse. For some reason, though, he’s the modern day Robert Redford of Black Cinema, which, as I’ve already covered, means nothing. Anyway, I’ve gotten off track.

So, they’ll make a movie about how vile and brainwashed I was to spout such evil about my race. But here’s the kicker. They’ll create some random, non-existent character for Shemar to play. He’ll be from the wrong side of the tracks, where they didn’t celebrate Halloween and he’ll really be into getting shit for free. They’ll paint it like we grew up together or something. I mean, he brings in the female viewership, so he’s a given.

In the meantime, I’ll, of course, be played by an aged Alfonso Ribiero. Yup, Carlton Banks, himself…

But the real turning point of the whole film will be the Snoop cameo. You know, where he and the Wayans Brothers work on the same garbage truck that drives down Ruby Dee’s street. Do I know Ruby Dee? No. Have I ever met her? No. But, it’s in the contract. There’s gotta be a role for Ruby Dee.

OK, I’ve done enough, They say “bad things come in threes” and this marks “Crazy Will’s A Racist” post #3. I really need to stop blogging drunk, and I need new material. Starting to feel like Jeff Foxworthy or something…

18th Oct2004

Drama of Jupiter?

by Will

OK, even though I posted highlight quotes, I think the quote of the weekend was :

“It’s a travesty that Evan didn’t record ‘Drops of Jupiter’!”

You know, a lot of people come up to me and tell me this. My question is: What do you want me to do about it?

I mean, seriously! That’s like if I went up to someone and said, “You know, your kid’s alright, but he’d probably be cuter if he didn’t have Down Syndrome and all…” I mean, you’re insulting me to my face, and it’s supposed to just roll off of me?!!

What’s this supposed to accomplish? People tell me this like they expect me to agree with them. Well, I DON’T.

This was, like many things in life, a political move. And sacrifices must be made. We, in Last Call, made the decision to make the CD representative of the current group at the time of its release. Evan was gone and Eduardo was gone, hence no tracks by them. Yes, Anthony’s “We Built This City” got on, and I had nothing to do with that. I was told it was because it was done and the money had been spent.

But people act like they expect me to say, “You’re SO right. I’m nowhere near as good as Evan and I’m ashamed to have my voice on there where his should rightly be!”

I’m not gonna say it. Evan was/is great, and we got a TON of mileage off of that song, from the Today Show to the ICCAs, but Evan had also had a solo on a CD. I hadn’t. Surprisingly, that comes into play when discussing potential album tracks. When this was recorded, I had NO IDEA I’d end up with 3 tracks on the CD, but I ain’t complaining. A group is about evolution and change. Simply, it was someone else’s turn.

Did we HAVE to record Drops? No. That wasn’t solely my call. The group decided, and now the very same people are the ones who’re quick to tell me how unworthy I am to be singing the solo.

People forget about politics. HAD we brought back older members to sing their songs, YEAH, Evan would be on Drops, but Eduardo would have been on Keep, and other solos would’ve changed hands as well. So, sorry folks, your loss is other folks’ gain. I’m not the only one who benefitted from the whole thing.

Plus, as I’ve said before, the review board at RARB liked my rendition, so there.

But, if anyone out there is STILL upset that I sang the song and not Evan, and they’re clamoring for their Evan version or their money back, well I’ve got a live track featuring him with your name right on it. Drop me a line and I’ll send it to ya. Maybe then we can all move on….

Man, I’ve gotta stop this drunk blogging…

Pages:«1234567»