I'm a sucker for clever, I'm a sucker for catchy tunes and I'm a sucker for orginality. I've watched this video several times and I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to finally post. I figured between all us music wonks over here that someone would have already done so, but alas. For this, my apologies.

Our loyal readers like to keep us posted on the coming and goings around Sweet Talk's homebase while I'm "at Large" playing music critic. Not surprisingly, they feel the best way to stay abreast of the local crew is to read the Gloucester Police Blotter.

Lately the CD pile has been swelling to unsustainable proportions.  Sweet Talk receives anywhere from 50-75 a week and has been lagging behind separating the wheat from the chaff.

In an effort to promote good cheer amidst our  24/7, fear-mongering news cycle, we bring you the first of what we hope to be regular doses of....drum roll....Some Good News: Because Everyone Needs Some. It's no water-skiing squirrel, but at least we are trying.

5) BeardHead.com: What happens when a couple of mountain freakers get together and try and figure out how to make a living without having to leave their "high" altitude. I suggest the "Viking."

4) SeatGuru.com: Being the Editor At Large I do my fair share of air travel, and when not ensconced in the warm womb of Jet Blue, Seat Guru is a must visit. Billing itself as "the ultimate source for airplane seating, in-flight amenities and airline information," it also helps land those coveted upgrades to first class. (Thanks to Will for the insight.)

3) Midomi.com: Being tone deaf and reluctant to admit ignorance when not knowing a song on the radio, this site offers a very cool little tool where you can sing or even hum a tune in order to search for it. Allows me to keep my cool guy, music guru, know-it-all rep intact.

2) 8Tracks.com: A new, simple way to share music for technophobes. My first pass at making a mix tape since 1988. Great Times.

1) FuckYouPenguin.blogspot.com: Having lived through the late '90s, where it seemed the sole use of the Internet was to send endless pics of cute animals with inspirational sayings, this refreshingly irreverent, no holds barred blog where the author "tells cute animals what's what" gives me hope that eventually people will restrain themselves from constantly forwarding the e-version of a "Hang In There" kitty poster. Yes, that means you, Mom! (Thanks to our intrepid reporter Buckshot Johnson for the link.)

I made a Venn Diagram that explains this site's briliance: Hang In There

When I was in 8th grade, I had two teachers who changed my life. One was Mrs. Downes who kindly fostered my passion for creative writing, and the other was Mr. Dore who proved reading of great literature to be as important as listening to great music. This yin and yang, this one-two punch of mentors on my pubescent and malleable mind set my future course, which, gratefully, I still tread.

However, I am most indebted to them for introducing me to the words of John Updike. As our school was a mere mile or so from the house America's most distinguished living writer called home, both teachers made him a staple of our advanced syllabus to great effect: "Yes, you too could grow up to be a literary giant who lives down the block."

To belabor the point, one afternoon  Mr. Dore assigned Updike's, "A&P" for homework. Our moan and groans at such an extended page count even for a short story quickly turned to jeers when Mr. Dore also announced a substitute teacher would be leading the class discussion the following day. Tempted  to shrug off the assignment given the lack of authority becoming a surrogate teacher, I still thought it best to at least skim the pages.

Upon learning the narrator to be a teenager near my own age, working a summer job as a bag boy, a menial beat similar to my profession as a lawn mower, who noblely lusts after three slightly older teenage girls, easily identifiable by own hormone-addled self, all set in the next town over from my own, I hailed Mr. Updike a clear master of his craft. Imagine my surprise when the next day the substitute was none other than the author himself. He sat on a stool in front of our drop-jawed class and recited the entire story with the panache and skill of a wizened raconteur. 

Fortunately, it was not the last time my paths crossed with Mr. Updike. For the following three birthdays I chose first-edition hardcover versions of his short stories and essays from our local book store which were neatly inscribed by the author himself. My blatant idolatry centered not merely on his ability to capture untamed sentiments and unnamed passions in exquisitely sculpted prose, but through the New Yorker, his ability to chronicle my bittersweet and beleaguered affair with the Red Sox ( "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu") and worship for fellow literary giant and fellow Masshole, Jack Kerouac ("On the Sidewalk") with such efficiency, humor and dexterity a budding wordsmith could only dream of emulating.

One day while sneaking a joint on Crane's Beach, I stumbled into Mr. Updike, who frequented the stunning sand dunes to help a skin ailment of some kind. I sheepishly nodded hello and asked if he was writing something new. He mentioned he had just finished his latest and with an obvious nod to my heightened state of being, added with a smile that I was sure to enjoy it. It turned out to be Witches of Eastwick, which not only ended up being filmed on the same beach, but eerily one scene in particular was shot in the very same spot of our encounter.

It's not often we rub elbows with our heroes, and it is even more rare when they surpass expectations. Owing so much to the man and his talent that any celebration or adulation would seem cursory and inept, tonight, with a blizzard threatening, I simply will pull out his Assorted Prose, pour three fingers of Oban Single Malt and let Mr. Updike lead me on a literary tour of my youth; counting my blessings with each turn of phrase.

RIP

Being Editor at Large means, well, one is at large a great deal. When one holds such a post for a top notch music magazine, it generally means a lot of time is spent on the road, catching artists in their natural habitat.  Over the course of 2008 Sweet Talk did just that. I manged to see shows in fourteen states and four countries, as a journalist, fan, rookie roadie, and even a producer of several festivals. While I did not manage to see as many club gigs as I once did ( a second child will do that to you), I obviously ingested my fair share of the world's best drug, live music. Therefore, I present my highly opinionated top ten songs experienced in the flesh in 2008.

I have a four year old son that has seen the first Star Wars trilogy 5 times.  Yes, he is junkie and the "Force" is the smack. Yesterday on Santa's Lap, he went into a didactic analysis of how Lando Calrissian is both a good guy and a bad guy before asking the bug eyed, red nosed jolly old elf for Jabba's Barge AND a Sarlacc Pit.

Okay, face the white page and hope some words start to flow. It's true I have been living under a rock of late and I have no idea what hot bands are doing what in the last month or so, but the one thing I can tell you is I have feverishly kept track the economy, and how it has quickly soiled my professional career.  Therefore in order to try and cure my ever increasing holiday blues, I am making an early New Year's resolution to stop watching CNBC, NYSE and every other piece of media that capitializes on fear. The vultures will no longer pick at my weak and fragile state of mind. 

I need to retreat and re-group in the womb of my music collection. That's right I am going into hibernation with just my pen, my music collection, and what's left of my liquor cabinet. 

One bright spot that deserve mention before I head into the cave:

Some of the crew attended a wedding in a very warm and sunny climate south of the border last week.  The whole event took place on the grounds of a 5 star 62 room spa. Suffice it to say the place was the benchmark for relaxation and luxury, and almost everyone in attendence realistically could not afford to be there. However most of us laughed at the absurdity of the situation and decided to go big and worry about the finacial consequences on Monday. 

After a great warm up Thursday evening, Friday night's after party turned old school as people sat on the deck over looking the ocean and took turns pulling up gems on the ipod.  My Morning Jacket's version of  The Velvet Underground's "Oh, Sweet Nuthin" from Bonnaroo 2008, a bunch of Ryan Adams, Sharon Jones' "How Do I let a Good Man Down" were highlights but after listening and gigging to Aretha's alternate version of "Rock Steady" TWICE, we called it a night.  Sometimes you just can't go any higher.

What made this even more blissful was after the spectacular wedding ceremony, while grabbing our seating assignments, we were amazed to discover that all the tables were named after Aretha tunes. To add to the head shaking coincidence, much of the same small crew from the previous night was seated at "Rock Steady".  After hours and hours of sweaty dancing, flips off the stage, star gazing, full fireworks, and the happy couple waltzing off down the beach, the DJ finally dropped the hammer and played the track in all it's mega watt glory. Sometimes you just can't go any higher.

"Let's call this song exactly what it is... what it is what it is.... ROCK ... STEADY"

While this is the normal version you can hunt down the Alternate Mix on the essential Funk collection: What It Is! Funky Soul & Rare Grooves: 1967-1977 (Disc 3)