Radio, We Meet At Last

I had a dream last night/early this morning.  It was incredibly vivid.  It was intense.  It was probably one of the most insanely awesome dreams I’ve ever had and I remember damn near all of it clearly, which is rare for me.  I will tell you about that dream; but not just yet… No, that’s what we like to call a teaser.  You can’t go to a movie and see the sex scenes and/or Jaws during the opening credits–well, I guess you could; but if I saw a movie that started with Jaws having sex, I think I’d probably be minus a head due to all the head-splodin’ that would inevitably follow.

But it couldn’t honestly be any less important… What IS important is the following sentence:

Tomorrow, Monday March 21, 2011 marks the day when my very first radio promotion campaign begins.

I am now grinning very large and I may or may not be flexing while wearing giant sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt–some things are not for you to know; you must simply wonder.

Yes, my friends… My album has been sent to a great many radio stations and is being actively promoted to these and other radio stations nationally.  I know that I am usually rather silly and full of jokes; but let me assure you… This is quite real and I am really beyond excited, happy and nervous.  All my life I have wanted to be on the radio.  I never dared to dream, when I was younger, that it would be MY songs and I especially never even dared to think that it might be ME singing–I eventually, obviously, DID dare to dream these things; but you already guessed that.  I simply cannot tell you how unbelievably excited I am about this.

So basically, it works like this:  The packages were sent to hundreds of radio stations and program directors at said radio stations and so on and so forth.  We were picked up by a very selective and very esteemed promotions company by the name of Powederfinger Promotions. What Powderfinger Promotions does is they act as our Public Relations representative to the radio stations. They have a very good reputation for only representing what they deem to be “good” acts (I use ‘good’ because opinion is always just an opinion and I’m in no position to say what’s good and what isn’t in a factual sense); and because they have a good reputation with radio and press, they are respected and they can help open the door.  Not any different than any other business really; if your friend tells you that a restaurant is good, you’re many times more likely to try it out than to just go on your own accord.

But, I would at this time, like to take a moment to thank David Avery–the president and owner of Powderfinger Promotions–for “discovering” me and going out of his way to make our business dealings extremely professional and quite honestly a pleasure.  We’ve spoken at length with David and recently with Brian Packer over there and those guys are absolutely awesome!  Thanks guys for believing in me and Vicki and my music.  (besides, they promoted Umphrey’s McGee and you guys KNOW how much I love that band.  Jas Patrick hearts Umphrey’s McGee, lulz)

Now, the Powderfinger guys are great and they’ve been incredibly helpful and gone out of their way to make sure we were looking smart and in our Sunday best for the radio stations and apparently, we’re pretty damn snazzy because there’s some more cool shit to tell you…

I was on the phone with my broseph, Mac, and I’m telling him about going live on Monday and all that jazz.  Well, I tell him that our name got listed on TripleAradio.com (awesome) and we’ve made the front listings for being added to the radio lists on the 21st–super awesome.  He’s all like “that’s cool man” and I hear some clicking around on his end of the phone line (he was either eating shellfish or he was surfing the net).  He suddenly says, “HOLY SHIT DUDE!”  And I was like, “Dear me, Mr. Mac, whatever could have caused you to exclaim so suddenly?  I do hope there is nothing the matter?  Are you feeling quite well, Sir?”

Yeah, I said it just like that.  I’m one polite mutha, let me tell you.

So Mac tells me that I’m listed in the “Buzz Cuts” which is basically saying that my music is one to be “watched” or something along those lines–you know, like ‘with a bullet’ or the ‘hot list’ or whatever I need to say to get you to understand that they think I’m the shizz-nitto-bang bang.  Super mega awesome sauce, am I right?  Yes.  Yes I am.  But it gets better…

Not only am I listed in big red fonts in the “Buzz Cuts” section; but I also happen to be sandwiched smack dab, right in the freaking middle of EDDIE VEDDER AND BEN HARPER!  Yes, you may now applaud politely and it is even considered couth to let out a reserved “hear hear” or ‘jolly good!’  Me, on the other hand, I ran out into the street in my comfy pants and spilled wine all over my head from fist pumping without putting my wine down first.  The neighbors thought I had lost my mind.  As I ran around bear hugging them all and jabbering about how I was in an Eddie Vedder and Ben Harper sandwich, I believe someone was able to decipher my yelps of joy into basically what I was trying to convey–more or less.  They lowered their weapons and cautiously approached me to congratulate us.  It was awesome.

Of course, right at the height of my self-wine-drenching and running up and down the street, Vicki came home driving the big red hotness (our touring van).  She of course immediately began to apologize to our neighbors and let them know that I should probably be on medication; but I explained through cheers and fist pumping that we were listed next to Eddie Vedder and Ben Harper.  She looked at me a little funny; but I showed her and then she started to believe me.

Oh yeah!  And the whole time, Mac was on the phone alternately laughing and hooting and hollering; so it was rather a surreal experience for me–the neighbors didn’t know I was on the phone… They later told me that they simply thought I had snapped a little and was having a congratulatory glass of wine with an invisible friend.  I do that sometimes.

I understand that some of you may not really be that impressed or think it’s that big of a deal–I mean, it’s not like Eddie called me up and told me that I rock his face or anything.  To that I really can only tell you that I’ve always liked a lot of Pearl Jam’s music–I especially really liked the “Into The Wild” soundtrack that Vedder did alone; but I’m not a super fan of him or them.  They’re great, I dig them; but you know how it goes.  Ben Harper?  I fucking LOVE that guy.

I know this is going to sound funny; but I love Ben Harper because he’s a musician and songwriter after my own heart–yes yes, I’m AFTER HIS heart, but be quiet and let the nice man write his blog.  Harper’s music is all across the board.  Jazz, rock, blues, soul, funk, R&B, folk, etc.  Just like your boy, Jas.  No, I didn’t model the way I write after him or anything so far as that; but Ben showed me that it was okay to write a Latin-jazz-rock song and then follow it on the album with blues-rock jam and never have to say why or that I was sorry.  We all know the Beatles did it as well; but they could get away with anything–Ben solidified the idea for me that is was cool to be me and fuck it if people don’t understand.  Never mind that the man has created some killer KILLER music over the years.  One of the things I want to do before I die is open for Ben Harper.  No shit.  He’s one of the cats I look most forward to meeting one day.

It’s easy to forget, with Eddie Vedder and Ben Harper on the list, that I am ALSO listed in there with some really fantastic musicians besides those two legends.  The National, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Natalie Maines, Caitlin Rose, Katie Herzig, Matt Nathanson…  Dude!  It’s nuts!  And there I am, little ole Jas.  Just wow.

It really is an honor to be listed with alongside these people and I’m just mad frigging stoked, let me tell you.

Ah yes!  My dream.  I had nearly forgotten…

I was asleep, as I usually am when I’m dreaming–well, I do kind of daydream a lot; so well, this was sleep dreaming and there wasn’t nary a dirty thought about my lovely wife anywhere in sight–she was there though.  Vicki and I were kind of hanging out in a neighborhood or a field or something… I really don’t know because we were getting into a plane and I didn’t notice the surroundings.  The only thing I know is that it didn’t seem out of the ordinary on the ground.  We boarded a jet–like a Learjet–and proceeded to fly that bitch.  No, we are not pilots.  Yes, we flew it like a boss.

As we are gaining altitude, I look out the windows and I notice there are storms, cyclones, lightning strikes and destruction all around us and pelting the hell out of the ground on which we once stood.  I think, whew!  We’re in the clear.  But then the cyclones turn human–though still made of churning storms and debris, they just have human shapes and are appearing to try to claw at us and the plane and they make a mad dash at us!  We pilot away from them and gain speed and confidence.  The storms coalesce into one giant storm that just looks like a huge cloud of destruction; but it can’t keep up!  It is dissipating rapidly as it tries one final time to cripple our craft and my heart stops as the cloud turns into a huge monstrous face that looks as if it wants to swallow us whole.  Right around this time I notice Vicki is laughing joyfully and I relax and floor it.  (I don’t know if you can floor it in a plane; but I’m no pilot so be quiet and let the nice man finish his blog)

The monster-face-cloud screams a terrible scream and breaks apart into a beautiful sunny day.  I look at Vicki and she says, “See?  Flying is easy!”

So, me being as in tune as I am with the universe–I’m like a psychic-shaman-Carl Sagan-hippie–I can TOTALLY tell you what this dream means.  It’s rather obvious that the plane is symbolic of a taco and the smoke is representative of the fat cells that inevitably follow taco consumption.  Therefore, Vicki and I will soon learn how to “out-run” fat cells by being on the radio and eating more tacos and cheeseburgers on planes.  As we all know, if you eat in one time zone and fly to another, you go back in time and negate the calories of the cheeseburger.  Science.

BAM!  I wake up and it’s a lovely morning.  My cat Phoebe starts immediately purring and trying to headbutt me out of bed to see to her morning noms.  I get up and go about the arduous task of waiting to see if any of you have found this blog because of hearing me on the radio.  Fingers crossed, my friends; fingers crossed…

In summation, I close this 2000 word or so blog with saying yet again that I have wanted desperately all my life to hear my music on the radio.  It’s not a “famous” thing or a ‘rock star’ thing or anything to do with glory of self.  I know, I know… You hear that shit all the time; but it’s true.  Rock stars are remembered for the clothes they wore, the drugs they did, the women, the life, the exploits… I don’t want any of that.  I love my wife, I like an occasional suit and tie; but I pretty much dig converse and hats and t-shirts.  I like a little wine and low calorie beer.  I do enjoy food; so I’ll probably never be the golden haired ab-god, sigh… No, I’m a pretty simple guy.  I love to make people laugh with ridiculous blogs and good times around a table piled high with great food, good friends and decent wine.  I like to sit around with those same and new friends and pick up my acoustic guitar and sing for them.  I LOVE to sing for people either onstage or off–specifically, my own music, though I have been known to do the random cover song from time to time.

No, dear readers, I don’t give a shit if you remember ME or not.  What I want you to remember is my music.  That is nearly never silly or fluffly.  Nope.  My music is where I pour all the essence I have in this life.  It’s also the place where my wife pours all her life energy as well.  We just want you to listen.  Being on the radio is a great joy for us and we hope a million gajillion stations put us in heavy rotation and all the world hears my debut album.  We spent a great many years on that album, money and time that we couldn’t really spare and have definitely “suffered” for our art.  I’d do it again, and pretty much do every day.  I will not stop.  It’s all I’ve ever really known how to do; so I hope that somewhere, sometime you find a song or seven of mine that you really cherish and enjoy.  When/if you do–remember that I say thank you for listening.  Thank you for listening.  Thank you for listening.

Finally… Thank you for reading.

Your fan,

Jas Patrick

bam