The letters he fails to write are fire to be used against the predicament of place she finds herself in. In time, he will see by the light of that fire padlocks picked, a way cleared ahead. Her pastures are her own to burn; let her have the torches. The skies above are no longer off limits to anyone with the power to spread feathers and lean into the wind.

50 word stories, written by yours truly, will begin appearing here on a semi-regular basis. Yes, you’re welcome.

Love,
Matt

Living Color

Because my tastes are so divergent, it becomes incredibly difficult to decide on one album to listen to for the rest of my life. So that album has to satisfy lots of my musical interests, even if it won't satisfy them all. And of course, it needs to have at least one anthemic song that compelled me to buy it in the first place. So dig it: my One Album For the Rest of My Life is…

PRIDE, Living Colour's Greatest Hits.

The guys in Living Colour established themselves as one of the definitive black rock bands of the 1980s and 90s, helping form the Black Rock Coalition with bands like Bad Brains and others. "Cult of Personality" was a huge hit, and my introduction to them. When I bought the album, though, I realized they were so much more than that. These guys were super-musicians, trained at the best music schools NYC had to offer. Their music wasn't just wild freak out guitar solos over heavy solid grooves, tighter-than-a-gnat's ass pocket and the most powerful singing in rock since Tom Jones or Freddie Mercury. No, no… the guys in LC were just as adept at funk, jazz, African high life music, drum and bass, reggae, and at least one of the best power ballads that criminally never seemed to get much play on the radio: "Broken Hearts."

Full confession: I cry when I hear that guitar solo, EVERY DAMN TIME. Something about the way it plays against the incredibly tasteful BASS solo just before it is perfection in a power pop song you NEVER hear anywhere else.

Why I don't just choose Vivid, from which both "Broken Hearts" and "Cult of Personality" hail, as well as the groove pop of "Glamour Boys", can be found in the wider scope of PRIDE, which contains tracks from all the other recorded output available to that point (no Collide-o-scope or Chair in the Doorway yet), including a RIDICULOUS live version of the Talking Heads' "Memories Can't Wait" as well as darker tunes from the Stain album. Of course, there's also the title track to Time's Up, as well as the aforementioned high life sunshine of "Solace of You". If you can't get up out of your seat to dance and smile to THAT track, you may just be dead. And hey, Living Colour doing dirgey, dubby tunes like "Happy Times" and "Visions" are way better than anyone else doing similar things.

Corey Glover has one of the best voices in rock. So good, in fact, that he toured as Judas Iscariot in Jesus Christ Superstar a few years ago. Vernon Reid's guitar skills are just mind-blowing, and Will Calhoun's drumming is peerless. I still miss Muzz Skillings, the original bassist, whose groove held it on lock for the first 2 albums. Of course, I can't complain about his replacement, Doug Wimbish, who has remained in the band since and thrown down some of the tastiest basslines on both fretted and fretless bass I've every heard. And hey, he was also the original house bassist on the Sugar Hill Gang's stuff way, way back when he was a teenager.

So, for that one-stop shopping of heavy metal, funk, jazz, power ballad, high life and such, PRIDE is my go-to for that desert island disc.

My wife found a mandolin pick when cleaning this weekend.

Reminded me that I picked up the instrument this summer but stopped playing it because she thought it was too loud, carried too much through the apt. I’m going to start up again tomorrow…

loudness be damned. ;)

The scene opens on the wooded acreage of a tony prep school somewhere in the burbs or maybe in a rural area of the state. Could be New England, or maybe just Bucks or Delaware County closer to home. There are teen boys and girls flitting hither and yon, dressed well for school, and I’m on campus, not sure if I’m a teacher there or somehow just passing by. An former teacher from my high school days, Mrs. Posey, appears at the door of the school to call students inside, sees me, waves, and asks me how I like Playboy of the Western World. This might make sense, as she teaches that in her class in waking life, and I’ve just recently seen it at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival, but that last time I saw her in waking life was back in November, before I had any plans to have seen it. Is she spying on me through my dreams? Inception?

Before I can process this, Greg Wood, Philly-based actor of stage and screen, goes running by, flustered, and dropping papers from his open briefcase. He is wearing a robe, sort of like a judge, sort of like a teacher at graduation ceremonies, but this is autumn in the dream. Why’s he wearing it? Maybe he’s cold, or maybe he’s doing it for flair. This doesn’t compute for me, as Mr. Wood’s style is not flashy or over-the-top, so the extra flair of wearing robes like this is Eton or one of the English prep schools causes me some Greg Wood-related cognitive dissonance. But, even in his hurrying, he turns to me and says, “It’s Matt isn’t it? Have you done any Shakespeare since our workshop together?”

I’m shocked Greg Wood remembers this, as this workshop was 11 years ago, and he and I have not been in the same room or kept in touch in any way since. I want to say, Why yes, Greg, I’ve done improvised Shakespeare as part of ComedySportz Philadelphia, but my mouth fumbles around that, and he runs off to class.

Just then, there’s some beautiful girl, who may have been played by Scout Taylor Compton from the Halloween remake done by Rob Zombie, who knocks into me, knocks the both of us down, and then helps me up, and begins to dust me off, while sheepishly grinning and apologizing for being clumsy. She mentions something about only being graceful while tapdancing, and sure enough, she actually has tapdancing shoes on. She mentions she’s in the school talent show, and I should come to see it. She also mentions that she’s missing a trombone player for the musical number she’s dancing to. Why one needs a trombone player to accompany any tapdancing is anybody’s guess, but the bell rings and she runs, clumsily, off, tap tap tapping away into the school.

Just then, my ComedySportz castmate and pithy, funny lady extraordinaire, Jessie “Actual Retail” Preisendorfer, appears and says, “Matt! Here, can you learn trombone in 4 days for the talent show on Friday? There’s a tap dance number that NEEDS a trombone solo of the song Hot Cross Buns. Can you do it?” Despite being asthmatic, and having never played a wind or brass instrument before, I say, “Sure, Jessie! Lay it on me!” and she does, and then SHE runs off toward the building, to teach math.

Then, there’s a montage as I sit out in the gazebo outside the school, and quickly learn how to hold the trombone, and build an armature in my lips, and blow sweet, trombony phrases like Antoine Batiste from Treme. The show comes, Scout sees me with the trombone, runs over to hug me, falls, gets back up with aforementioned sheepish grin, and clunks quickly backstage, while tossing a “You’ll do great, don’t let me down!” over her shoulder.

Onstage, the band starts playing, I’m laying out til that 8 bar stretch of Hot Cross Buns, and Scout appears and starts dancing, and she’s… terrible. Truly horrible as a dancer. A lot like when I go to dance when the music’s on, but there’s such joy on her face, the crowd winces and smiles painfully along. She turns to me, our eyes lock and I put the trombone to my lips…

and the slide falls out as my solo begins.

BLACKOUT.

Though I live in a large metropolitan area with many types of drivers, it irks me no end that people seem to refuse to use their turn signals. I can almost forgive it in highway traffic: we're all going the same direction, after all. When it comes to residential/city grid driving, though, my blood pressure begins to rise.

At intersections, I'm waiting and trying to observe the rights of way. Inexplicably, I get the high beams flash from the car opposite me in traffic, trying to Morse code the driver's thoughts or even worse, trying to elicit my own thoughts. The driver looks visibly frustrated, and mouths, "What the hell are you doing? GO!" almost every time, and I do, but as I pass through the intersection, I see them make that right or left turn. Seriously? Use your turn signal!

It only gets worse at T-intersections. You need to make a choice at those intersections, and here's brohams or sistah-friend, just SITTIN' there. How bout you make a decision? It's one way or the other, friend. And yet… drivers STILL lack the bare minimum competency to flick that little turn signal to let the drivers behind, and to the right or left of them KNOW their driving mind.

I yell.

Sometimes i think I'd be better off back where I was, taking public transit. Until I remember: I live in the land of SEPTA, the land of "We're Getting There".

F that.

I joined the Philadelphia cast of ComedySportz five years ago in 2005, and attended that year’s tournament in Los Angeles. It was amazing seeing hundreds of improvisors who do the same thing I do, coming from 22 different cities across the nation. There was even a team from Manchester, England! That experience proved to me that this improvisation thing I got myself into was a much larger thing than just 30 or so people I did it with in Philly.

Since then, Philly as an improv city has blown up, putting it nearly in the same ranks as New York City, Chicago and LA, both in terms of talent and the sheer number of people and groups performing in town. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, July 15-17th, the longest running show in town, ComedySportz Philly gets to show its stuff to that wide nation of improvisors, both CSz and non-CSz related.

Oh, and did I mention… there’s a team from Berlin, Germany now? Vee haf vays of making you laugh!

I’m not onstage with any of the teams Philly is fielding against our out of town brethren this week (we have 40 members of the company and only 12 spots, so no big thang!), but I will be stage managing one night, and taking in the funny the rest of the nights from the players’ loft at World Cafe Live in West Philly. I HIGHLY suggest you all get come out one, two or all three nights! You can get your tickets here.

You’ll probably see spots on 6ABC, and hear them on the radio at B101 this week. That’s us! Come on out! If you wanna laugh with improvisors from around the globe, and your hometown audience, come on out. But… if you don’t like laughing, stay home and watch reruns of something depressing.

The Black Keys, Brothers

Reviewed in a little more depth by a guy I directed years ago, The Black Keys‘ album Brothers continues to expand the duo’s songwriting chops, while still remaining firmly rooted in electric blues from the likes of Junior Kimbrough. This album features far more old R&B influence than previous albums have, and to great effect. Think Lloyd Price’s “Stagger Lee” meets Kimbrough’s “Get Your Hands Off Her” played by two white guys. Recommended if you like: blues duos, white guys playing the blues, singing through Green Bullet microphones.

Best “Ad” for an album I’ve ever watched.

OK Go, Of The Color of the Blue Sky

I’ve mostly resisted bands like OK Go, with their huge, nearly orchestral pop sound, but on the strength of XPN‘s rotation of “This Too Shall Pass”, I’ve become a fan. That song is anthemic, huge, and I can’t stop singing along with the simple chorus of “when the morning comes”. I’m still spinning it, and kicking the tires. I’m finding elements of Beck and Flaming Lips and something that feels like the Talking Heads. I guess it makes sense; I also recently picked up Vampire Weekend’s debut disc, and OKGo played after VW works for me. Maybe it’ll work for you… when the morning comes? Recommended if you like: Beck, Flaming Lips, Talking Heads, hipsters with iPhones, going to Kung Fu Necktie on Front St in Philadelphia

Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, The Wages

I dig the Reverend and his wife Breezy. They manage to make Charley Patton style acoustic blues sound like punk rock, without changing the instrumentation or the amplification. Though the Rev’s brother Jayme left the band, their new drummer Aaron “Cuz” Persinger plays almost exactly like him. So shouldn’t I like this album more? I should, especially since it contains a version of a Big Damn Band/Jason Webley song I love, entitled “Two Bottles of Wine“. But honestly? This record is mostly rehashing familiar territory, and the aforementioned inclusion of “Two Bottles of Wine” is live, but too fast/chaotic to do the song justice. Still, I’d rather listen to this stuff rehashed than almost anything appearing on commercial rock radio.

Do like the man says, “Clap Your Hands”.