Kulak’s Woodshed

Wes Dildine and Clive Kennedy at the recent FOLKTACULAR event in Santa Monica
(pic by markbludigital.com )

I was backing my good buddy songwriter Clive Kennedy at his recent show opening up the local mini-folk-festival FOLKTACULAR. Clive and I have done numerous shows together over the years. He’s a fine writer, superb vocalist and one of the most offbeat, funny, quick-witted and disarmingly charming performers you will ever see. Playing shows with him requires that you be ready for anything because he will make quick changes to his material and he can take whatever happens in the room and make it a part of the show. We have a lotta fun.

So much fun that I’ve accepted an invitation to join him as he delivers a quick set tomorrow night at legendary singer/songwriter hotspot Kulak’s Woodshed.
Come on by and check this out: Beverly Micken’s show will also feature Melanie Mayron and Kathryn Gallagher.
THURSDAY Feb 21st at 8pm
KULAK’S WOODSHED
5230 Laurel Canyon Blvd North Hollywood, CA 9160714046_10151381169254130_697285354_n

Talking Crap

TedJackass
Well I won’t be taking any journey’s to the center of Ted Nugent’s mind anytime soon. The right wing booster and gun control opponent from Michigan was visibly  present at the State of the Union address and had some colorful comments to air to anyone who’d be willing to listen as he added to his recent litany of  tiresome psychotic tirades.

MSNBC was more than willing to poke the bear a bit, as well they might because poop “jokes” get pretty worn out coming from the mouths of kids, and it seems like ol Ted might be just a hair too long in the tooth to pull any excremental metaphors -er- outofhisass with any hope of being taken seriously. With Democrats like Obama it might seem like Republicans are totally unnecessary but it does encourage me to see the right so successfully shooting itself in the foot. Forming a circle and then attacking everyone inside it…that’s usually the left’s tactic for self destruction.

Folktacular

404400_4721263703404_1234387642_nI’ll be backing up my good friend singer/songwriter and spectacular individual Clive Kennedy at the upcoming Folktacular event at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica this Sunday at 2pm. Come on down and check this cool  event.
Also performing well into the night will be: Dan Bern – Julie Christensen – Robert Morgan Fisher – Bob Woodruff – Freebo – Calico – Bill Burnett – Chad Watson & Pam Loe – Alfred Johnson – Jeff Kossack – John Zipperer – Jeff Gold – Sabrina & Craig – John M – Sandy Ross
Seriously, tho, we  really go on at 2pm.
click on the flier to go to the event’s facebook page:

Folktacular

Blue and Red

KellJosieWedding

Completely unrelated picture of Kelly and daughter Josie at the recent Silver Phial wedding of Patrick and Cheryl (pic by Sarah Morrison)

I’ve been working with Kelly over at NervousWorld East and we’re adding to the band set this month: A Place For Me (from the CURMUDGEON album)
and Blue and Red (which has been an acoustic only number up till now, but we’re adapting it for the big Mister Nervous sound, baby)
Should be able to disclose some upcoming show dates shortly. Keep watching ’cause it kinda looks like we’re coming into a bigger year in ’13.

We’re also gonna finally be recording some of the stuff from our live shows (like Crystal Girl ).
-WES

It makes me nervous

13097_10151418068326069_545594793_n
It makes me nervous when the LAPD is so rattled that they’ll pump lead into a pickup truck apparently containing two Asian newspaper delivery women because it resembles the truck that may be in use by a suspect in a cop-killing.

From what I’m reading and hearing today, the cops have good reason to be more that a bit freaked out by the fact that a highly trained ex LAPD officer with military training and an attitude bent on violence against them while feeling he has “nothing to lose” is hunting them.

But, c’mon boys, that wasn’t Bonnie and Clyde in that pickup, keep it together and serve and protect first.

Oh, wait, it’s the LAPD… duck and cover, folks.

 

Can you hear me now?

MNintolerable
I’m tweaking the design of the website since the full on clutter of the previous design was so pathetically incompatible with your cool new devices making the whole blog a cruel and useless joke.

Since my tech skills are pretty much lacking this may mean the blog might look a little klunky  for a while until I get it together…but the idea is to get back to the seriously opinionated brilliance of the misternervous.com we all remember so fondly…  or not.

The point is I’m so totally RIGHT about STUFF that you oughta get into/back into the habit of listening to me… and,of course, my awesome band.

Memphis TN

As I’m sure I’ve already mentioned I’m a lucky man to have Chelsea around. She walked into my door shortly after I realized that I’d gone about as far as I was going to get without a girl around – I’m just a better guy in a relationship – and one of the things she excels at is putting together an itinerary for seeing the cool stuff wherever she travels. When she got anxious for a vacation and found an opportunity for us to head to Tennessee for a bit there were 2 places I was certain we had to be: Nashville and Memphis.

Well you give this gal a chance to organize that and you get a pretty awesome couple of days. We pulled into Memphis and she’s already found the place to dine. At Pearl’s Oyster House I had a caesar salad and chipotle BBQ shrimp entree that made my eyes roll up into my head – the food was that good. Then over to Beale Street because that’s where the music is, right? It was certainly colorful right away walking over and seeing the still operating vintage trolly cars… rounding the corner it was clear the street is ready to party as the police block off the area so folks can stroll past the venues and restaurants without any interference from traffic. Sadly as we wandered past the horse drawn carriages and into a giftshop right at the west end of the action the first music I heard was a grotesquely over-played version of Hendrix’ Little Wing (the guitar player wanted to make sure he whanged through every damn lick he knew as fast as he could go whether they were appropriate for the mood of the tune or not). This was the tone of the sounds coming out of most of the music venues we passed as we headed down through the gauntlet of wildly partying white folks reeling up and down the street. Clearly it was a vacation paradise for those looking to imbibe a lot of alcohol and listen to watered-down blues and cruise-ship ready R&B classics. Maybe your experience of this area was better than mine (and I know I can be more than a bit judgemental about music) but this was not the stuff I came to town to listen to… so with a few exceptions we passed by these bars with a quick listen from the front door and moved on.

As we reached the top end of the street I heard something that did make my ears perk up. A small combo of guys were out on the sidewalk in front of an archway that’d seen better days playing some real gutbucket blues to an empty sidewalk. Big Jerry had virtually no audience… and one guy who looked like he was possibly living out on the streets passing the bucket for ‘em. We put some ducats into the bucket and then bought one of their homegrown cds. After a number or two I went over to the fellas and thanked them for being there and playing the first of the real shit I’d heard since we started up Beale Street. They asked if I was a player and if I wanted to sit in, but we were all pretty beat from travelling and so we bid the guys goodnight and I promised to return the next evening with my axe. Returning the next night I found these fellas were not around (I can only hope that means they found a profitable houseparty or some other place to play where they were better appreciated).

Our next day in Memphis was filled by our visits to Graceland (some part of me wanted to see Graceland… and the Jungle Room and the Trophy Room did not disappoint!) and the National Civil Rights Museum. Now Graceland was exactly what you would expect: a reasonably cool tour of Elvis Presley’s famous mansion and grounds  surrounded by some pretty henious tourist-trap-crap. F’rinstance I was thrilled that my admission included the ’68 Comeback TV Special exhibit ( Elvis’ career-redeeming television show where he shed the wretched refuse of his movie career and got back to playing rockNroll, baby) only to find out that the exhibit is a big giftshop with a small video monitor that plays truncated clips interspersed with fatuous factoids and a couple small benches in the corner. Silly me, I was anticipating a theater playing the entire show. And , seriously, do not expect to find edible food anywhere on the property. So: did we enjoy out tour of Graceland? Yes, yes indeed!

Lorraine Motel

Wes stands in front of the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis at the Lorraine Motel where Dr. King was shot in '68 and is instantly overwhelmed with emotion.

The National Civil Rights Museum was the gem of our time in Memphis. So huge and packed with so many exhibits and encompassing so much information about so many events and time periods we were only able to make it through the main building (which is built inside the actual Lorraine Motel) during the time we had to spend there. Do yourself a favor and give yourself a whole day for this experience as it is an amazing place with so much to see and absorb. The place overwhelmed me with the amount of information packed into each room,the intensity of the larger visual exhibits and because the instant I stepped onto the grounds of the Lorraine Motel my emotions overtook me and I teared up. Which, according to the gentleman at the front desk where I paid my admission, is far from unusual.

Well after that we had another great meal, some more great cocktails and tried Beale Street once again. The next day we moved on to Nashville, about which I’ll tell ya soon.

SOME PIX OF THE TRIP ARE HERE

- Wes D

Competition vs Co-operation

Is it you or is it me, Los Angeles? I’ve been casting about trying to figure out how to say this for weeks. Yesterday I was at an Eastside spot called the Thirsty Crow checking in with my friends The Sundowners and meeting long-time Sunday resident _princessFrank for the first time.

Wes at the jam

Jam time

Talking with some friends outside we started discussing Competition vs Co-operation among local musicians. We all fell on the side of  camaraderie, because it’s hard enough being a performer without the added b.s. of working to edge out someone else who’s  just trying to get their thing up and running and successful.
Little story here: The first time I went to the long-gone Hollywood Coffee House HIGHLAND GROUNDS on a Wednesday night and signed up for the super-popular open mic I walked into a wonderland. I watched the stage for a few sets but the real show was out on the patio where circles of pickers were jamming and trading songs, many of us meeting each other for the first time. Sharing the playing of music for the pure joy of playing the music. I’m thinking: ” I am HOME! I’m gonna love LA! This is how it’s s’posed to be”. Well that never happened again. In all the times I went back the room was packed with anxious, jealous wannabes all waiting for their ten precious minutes onstage like they’re about to get “discovered”… and glaring daggers at one another. Yecch!

I grew up raised by and around folk musicians on the east coast and that meant frequent gatherings of players and singers to eat, drink and sing & play music till they were spent. I remember jams in houses, churches, before and after shows, in festival parking lots, campgrounds, wherever 2 or more pickers met. Man, I thought that was what life really was ’till I got out into the alleged  “real world”. Those of you who know me already have no doubt heard me ramble on about how I cannot understand why groups of talented musicians get together to party and nobody plays a note. I like getting folks over to my place to party and make music (cuz after a couple beers all I wanna do is jam, baby!).

Mom&Dad

Mom and Dad

The idea that I might ever become “rich & famous” as a musician is a long-dead barely-desired fantasy. The possibility that I might ever even earn my living with music often seems a distant near-unattainable goal. Music is what I do because I have to do it to remain sane. What do y’all think about that? Who’s with me?

- WES D

Don’t bury me ’cause I’m not dead yet

I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’m still mystified I can’t do it anymore and I’m not satisfied…

Happy Dad Kelly with lil Josephine

Happy Dad Kelly with lil Josephine

Seriously, folks, happiness is wonderful but it apparently still doesn’t fill the void that only rocking out can satisfy. We’ve been taking most of the last year off, and it’s been grand without the band  in a lotta ways.  I’ve been in a very fine place since Chelsea walked through my door and stayed… and Kelly’s been basking in the glow of marriage and fatherhood since the arrival of his adorable daughter last summer.

Chelsea

Chelsea

Jana & Josephine

Jana (guitarist from the Monthlies) & daughter Josephine Wininger

But let’s face it… happiness just ain’t enuff for those of us who just  gotta rockNroll. After a while something irresistable builds up – until it’s clear the big noise is either gonna break out …or yer gonna explode.

So this summer Mister Nervous is back out there. And I’ll be checking in here much more frequently.

It’s not like I even have a choice… clearly I’m addicted to big guitar for life.

-WES

Why, yes, I am happy

I can be intensely shamelessly cynical about a great many things, but never never about love. No doubt this will make many of you squirmy and uncomfortable. I know that seeing someone expressing a belief in the power of love, even the existence of such a primal and subjective emotion, gives a lot of folks a swift pain. “We’re too cool for love, we cannot accept it as a concept, we believe it is the epitome of self-delusion…” I cannot and will never agree. Those of you who find the very idea of love hopelessly un-hip may feel free to look elsewhere for some detached entertainment.

Min Siegel d. 2007

I’ve lost more than a few people and things over the years for which I held a nearly indescribable affection. The first truly epic love of my life ended four years ago when I lost my Min, the one woman I thought I would always have in my life. That loss didn’t dim my belief in love, but it shook my faith in my ability to survive this world and what I held to be true about life. I have written many songs about this experience during these last few years. I sincerely hope I have written all that I need to on that subject.





Today I find I wanna talk about a more joyous perception of existence. This year I feel myself coming back to life, and after 4 years of unrelenting darkness of the soul that’s one hell of a jolt.

WES & CHELSEA in the breakfast nook of "The Fifi" at the Hicksville Trailer Palace

You see: a few months back a young woman walked through my door and stole my heart right out of my chest in a matter of hours. I am not at all sure she’s gonna appreciate my shining this spotlight upon her because she doesn’t share my obsession with spilling my guts in public as a form of art. But as a writer of songs it’s my primary goal… to be as honest and true as my limited abilities will allow. I believe that it’s instantly possible to separate the bullshit artifice from the genuine article when you listen to a song. If it doesn’t ring true it belongs in the circular file. Well, the truth is I have been smitten by this girl in a way I never expected to feel again.

For my recent birthday this adorable creature took me out to the desert to a destination called the Hicksville Trailer Palace, a wacky motel comprised of vintage auto-trailers all tricked-out in hilarious/bizarre themes. We stayed in a purple and gold trailer with chandeliers, a bar, a femme vanity, three glowing wig mannequins (their disembodied plastic heads floating above the bed) and a glorious silence beneath a star-studded desert sky. I can barely remember the last time I was this… happy. So thank you Chelsea, for waking me back up, for renewing my faith in my own worth, for giving me something other than grief to cling to, for reminding me what it’s like to feel that need to cherish and protect another human, for being the new great love in my life.

Mister Nervous' God of drum thunder KELLY and Monthlies.' guitar gal JANA were recently wed.

As I look around me I see many other examples of love’s power to triumph over the daily grind of life on earth. Our awesome drummer Kelly was just recently wed to his lovely and talented lady Jana at a small ceremony, they have moved into a new home and look how joyous they appear. In the coming days our friend Michael (from The Sundowners, a band already near & dear to the heart of Mister Nervous) will be wed to his betrothed Tanya…

It's wedding bells this month for Sundowner MICHAEL and his gal TANYA!

and bandmate Dennis will officiate. More on that awesome weekend kicked off by a public pre-wedding party in Pasadena with The Sundowners, Jinsai and Mister Nervous later on.

I’ve been mostly absent from this space, this blog, for several months now.  I was busy being happy and reacquainting myself  with that sensation privately. Mister Nervous has not hadda night on the boards since our show back in January with The Monthlies. That’s all about to change Memorial Day Weekend.

Sadly in the midst of  this love-fest I must absorb the passing of one of my favorite bands in Los Angeles. The aforementioned Monthlies. appear to be no more. This saddens me because I loved that band beyond expression. The bandmates themselves appear to be doing well: Wes O’Lee and Chris Hall have lovely girlfriends, Jana married Kell, and Nick’s already found another band to apply his sweat and savage beatmaking to. I will miss the Monthlies as a band not only because they are my friends, but because the intensity of emotion called up by some of their songs was/is overwhelming (how many nights did I spend where at some point or another during the set I actually felt I had to keep it together as one or another of the band’s songs brought on a lump in my throat or a moistness to my eyes(?)… whatta sap I can be!). So if The Monthlies rise again I will be standing stage front once more. And that is how I judge what music, to which performers I unashamedly pledge my fandom… you gotta kick my butt with your ability or break my heart with the heartfelt truth of your songs. Nothing else will do.

Yeah, I’m actually a huge cornball: “I wear my heart on my sleeve”… but what the hell’s the use of keeping it in a lockbox? I am still too cynical to believe that songs, or love, will change the world. But they can change your little corner of the world, or – at least – love can change mine.

-WES D