I played with Will on and off for over 10 years. He was a perfectionist; he was an enthusiast; he was sometimes difficult to work with. Regardless, he was always a devoted friend and endearing advocate. He was quick to point out flubs, but even quicker to praise when you nailed something. He was maddeningly meticulous: demanding what notes to play and on what string and fret, what harmony to sing when and how to enunciate the words and phrases, and even to what to wear on stage — bottom line is that playing with Will made me a better musician and performer. I’m grateful and honored to have had the opportunity to create music with him.

Will wore his emotions on his sleeve. You knew when he was happy, angry, proud, or sad. And his emotions were dynamic — as expressive as his music and as big as his heart. The last time I saw him was in Paul Eckberg’s basement. We were rehearsing "Oh No the Radio," "Good Old Days," "Coming Up Roses" and other greats from Owsley’s pop-rock repertoire. He was lacking his normal zeal and passion, but I never saw a suicide in his future. If only he could have taken his own words to heart, “…One day you will wake up and you’ll be able to forget the sadness – get into the gladness of love and it’s way, and you will not fight it…”

I love you and miss you brother. May your soul rest in peace.

“Peanuts! Get your peanuts!” That’s the melodic phrase the vendors from the Toledo Mud Hens baseball games used to chant while roaming the stadium bleachers at the Lucas County Fair Ground when I was just a kid. And although their origin is believed to be Peruvian, peanuts are as All-American as baseball. Jimmy Carter was a peanut farmer; Charlie Brown lives in the Peanuts comic strip; and kid’s across the nation grew up eating PB&J sandwiches.

Back to my M&Ms… peanuts are delicious and versatile! Peanuts are a culinary companion and best friend to all sorts of foods: sweet, savory, spicy, nutritious and decadent.

The nut has also had a tasty influence on music. No one can see Snoopy or Linus and not imagine the incredible music of Vince Guaraldi; “Salt Peanuts” has been performed by countless jazz musicians like Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and others, and inspired the seductive Supersax album cover with the two nudes holding saxophones sitting in a bowl of peanuts (see featured Image); And don’t forget one of my favorites, that angst driven song by the Police off of “Outlandos D’Amour” entitled, you guessed it, “Peanuts.”

Think I’m gonna listen to that album now and sit here until I think of something to write about…

Hi there.  Tim, the drummer here.  No, further back… way back in the dark recesses at the rear of the stage.  That’s where you find drummers.  There are two reasons for that: That’s where the rest of the band wants us and that’s where we want to be.  Why?  Who knows?  Could be evolution I guess.  Years ago drummers use to be front and center pounding out rhythms across vast distances, not only grooving but communicating at the same time. The original Social Network so to speak. 

Yeah, those were the good old days.  Then along came a guitarist to screw it all up.  Soon it’s all about him. And then to follow was the keyboard and synthesizer, horns, back ground vocalists and a bass player (…that was actually a good idea), add in a few dancers and you can see how the drums just got pushed further and further back.  It could be that or maybe just an ego thing.  Kind of the trickle down theory from the front of the stage to the back. Survival of the fittest.

Not that I’m complaining.  It’s actually an interesting vantage point.  So often a fly on the wall kind of experience.  Yes, from my lofty throne I’ve gazed at more butts than I could ever count.  The  big, the small, the lovely, the turgid and the ordinary butt, just to name a few kinds.  Occasionally that might be my only view, depending on how tight the stage is.  

Other times the stage is so large it’s downright lonely out there.  I’ve played on stages from Red Rocks to Little Rock (…got “paid” in pizza and beer);  from The Grammys in L.A. to little ole Grannies in a nursing home;  from Radio City Music Hall to the corner of some dive bar in Indiana (…no stage whatsoever) opening for a band called Ass Master 2000.  That was back when the year 2000 was still in the future.  (It just now occurred to me that perhaps 2000 was not in reference to the year…)

Speaking of the future, I’ll post something soon.  Maybe we’ll delve into what it was like growing up under the influence of the greatest Rock and Roll city in the world!  Post your guesses and stay tuned.

Tim

Ever open your shades at night, put a makeshift spotlight on you, grab your randall knife (or your tennis racquet – or your cheap shit guitar), and lipsynch to “Renegade” by Styx?  Done. Own that t-shirt!

Since those early obsessive years, well, we are now in the later obsessive years.  Music has been and always is on around me (use to drive people nuts meeting with me…) and over my 44 years, 35 of them have been in direct contact with it in some form.  My first piano teacher Horton Rowe (worst breath in the world) would try to get me to do it his way; I just wanted to learn George Winston’s “Autumn” by ear.  No offense to the keyboard players, but guitar is so much cooler (and I always say keyboard players trying to look and move as cool as guitar players – to no avail) so I started down that path.

And I’m still on it.  Harder today than I have been in years.

I’ve pretty much done every gig in the music business besides working at a record company.  In my heyday, I toured in hair metal bands, booked festivals and huge shows, slept 8 guys in a Motel 6 with two beds, got so drunk that I fell out of the van – hit my head – and thought I was being abducted by aliens (that’s a long, long story)…the list goes on and on.

And I’ve been pretty much to the top of the music business mountain, culminating in some incredibly interesting interactions with the likes of Irving Azoff, Kanye West, Lyor Cohen, P-Diddy, Robert Plant, among hundreds of others…

And now here I am, an old guy by “traditional music biz” standards, going after music with a vengeance.  Music also informs my investing strategy, as well as my ongoing pursuit of what the new business of music will look like.  Being a creative is hard on so many levels, but I cannot think of much other work I’d rather be doing.  The business itself is pretty damn shitty in spots (the intersection of art and commerce is a wacky interchange) but in it’s purest form, music is hard to beat…

Been thinking about dusting off that favorite instrument and giving it another whirl?  What’s stopping you?  You are, my friend, and there is no time like the present…

Marko

Beta Press Circa 1985

It’s been over 25 years since I’ve fronted a band and it’s a bit strange that I’m going at it again when most musicians my age are hanging up their instruments for a more sensible lifestyle. So why now and why Punching Clowns?

I have an insatiable desire to create. Luckily, I have never denied myself that privilege and, in fact, have had several successful ventures outside of music that exploited my gift of producing and creating. But music has a primal and intimate allure; it is superior to all my alternative creative outlets.

A list of (sometimes conflicting) adjectives come to mind when I think about why I love creating music. It is therapeutic, personal, communal, tactile, painful, joyous, and most of all fulfilling. And the miracle of a song is that it can say nothing and everything at the same time while eliciting passion, remembrance and change.

Being in a band is all this and more combined into a juvenile synergy.  It’s a committed cooperation that’s fun and liberating.  Punching Clowns are my brothers and best friends. I’ve know Tim and Mark for a long time and, just like with family, take the good with the bad. I don’t know where this venture will take us – for right now I’m just happy to be on the journey.

Doli

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