Tales of the Roadie - Part 1

Crazy stuff happens when the band is on stage. It is the nature of humans to do retarded stuff when under the influence. I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to le performers de Brat Pack that they don't see most of it from stage. I think I'd like to start blogging some of the asinine stuff I see. I call my new series "Tales of the Roadie." Here's my first story:

We were in Taylorville tonight...at Bailey's! Cool club, cool people. But in any crowd that size, you're bound to find your occasional drunken moron. So it goes like this: It's the middle of the second set. These two dudes stumble in, and when informed that there was a cover charge, they immediately got that look on their face that they were special somehow and could argue their way out of paying the cover. (It's a classic facial expression that any door guy immediately recognizes :)

So here's what dude #2 says to me. "You want me to pay X bucks?!? It sounds like a ~friggin'~ jukebox!" (expletive replaced...this is a family blog after all :)

It took me all of 2 milliseconds to realize how rediculous his argument was. What better compliment could he give? I responded, "That's cause they rock." Both dudes paid, but then again, everybody pays when Sixteen Kendell's is at the door.

Who Will Save the World?

The Brat Pack doesn't usually notice anything going on in today's world, but a superstar and a supervillain from our favorite decade have entered the political arena with stunning messages directly related to the 80s! Decision '08 is going to be tough, but at least we'll be partly able to understand it!

Trouble in Paradise

With certain members of this band, I have grown accustomed to deviance from expectation. I have learned when to pursue disciplinary action and when to catch a plane to Paris. But I have perhaps been lulled into a false security with regard to our impeccable, even spectacular, masters of the four and five string basses. Today I learned (thanks JVH!) of a terrible scandal which appears to center around the most perfect being of all - Mr. G. Menudo! (Alas, I should have paid closer attention to The Apprentice and developed a steely resistance to Menudo's charms. He blinded me with silence!) While I am not at liberty to elucidate this most flammable allegation, I can use the opportunity to remind the rest of the Pack about the importance of a thorough understanding of those portions of your contracts specifying which gifts you are not authorized to accept from redheads (e.g., smiles, teddy bears, and - most grievous of all - the monkey.) Now if you will excuse me, I have a plane to catch.

Heard Any Good Jokes Lately?

Tiffany walked into a bar. She never saw it coming.

Knock knock! Who's there? Madonna. Madonna who?
Knock knock. Who's there? Madonna. Madonna who?
Knock knock. Who's there? Orange. Orange who?
Orange glad I didn't say Madonna again?

Why did Prince and the Revolution cross the road?
It was the chicken's day off.

P.S. While PeeWee may have declined to be our myspace friend, 1411 other folks aren't taking any chances!

Once Again, Democracy Prevails

It's official, and the votes have all been counted at least once! There was a three way tie for the ideal Blogger's Vacation period - one day, one week, and none at all - with a smattering of folks choosing "one month" and "as long as possible."

Miraculously, our other open poll ended in a tie too! Kermit dancing sexy and TOMMY slipping Yoda some tongue were deemed equally frightening, while half as many people cast their vote for St. Pat birthing Pat Benatar. Trailing behind in a penultimate toss-up were Jacko the Smurf Chick and Jesse's pedicure. Tied for distant last (AKA not scary at all?) were Papa Smurf's flailing headstock, Larry's donkey kick, and a tantrumming Baby Smurf.

It has been our pleasure to demonstrate that a true democratic process CAN flourish, even if only in the blogosphere, even if restricted to 80s trifles, and even if we're the only ones voting.

Excuse #7: Would You Believe... Lost at Sea?

Park bench I can imagine. Eating from the garbage too. But I'm not falling for your inward-seeking-shoegazer con this time, Lauper. I choose to think of the Brat Pack's brief lapses of consciousness (and detours from expectation) as inevitable forays into the creative realm, ritualized gatherings to recall and serve an ancient, hallowed purpose... that's right, rehearsals to learn more hits from the 80s! So stop lying (refer to section 5a.vii. of your agreement) and focus on the business of getting down with your bad selves.

Excuse #6: Communion with Nature

And so, devastated by TOMMY's superior wisdom and sickened by blondacity (or blondie-ism, if you prefer 90s reductionist terminology to the classical,) I sought comfort in the loving arms of spring's return. Yes I wandered transcendent through the flora, contemplating happiness and meaning and bunnies, merrily passing the weeks without a care, sleeping on or under park benches and eating from the garbage, until the gnashing of teeth of our blog's millions of readers startled me back, and it was time to get in the van and go to the gig.

Excuse #5: Creative Differences

Perhaps you would accept a modified version of excuse 4. The truth is that TOMMY TUBULAR and I had a big falling out about what qualifies a person as blonde. For a few weeks, I stood by my belief that the wig is everything, but eventually, through science and reason, TOMMY's top research assistant Josh of Seagulls persuaded me of the roles of cybernetics and chromosomal misbehavior in authentic blondeness (or blondacity, the preferred 80s term.)

Excuse #4: Alien Abduction

Equally plausible is the scenario that in the future or in a parallel universe, everyone associated with The Brat Pack and this blog was lifted into a spacecraft and carefully studied for what corresponds in earth time to the last three weeks, hypnotized into believing they'd paid a visit to Thanos Las Vegas and/or experienced a cosmic rupture, and deposited at a casino just in time for the gig.

Excuse #3: Technical Difficulties

Our silence can also be attributed to multiple complications in various hardware software connectivities, these arising from a massive warp in the space time continuum, occasionally referred to as the space gash. New Wave Dave and Josh of Seagulls have enlisted our old pal GI Joe to assist with the coming investigation. Rest assured, it's coming! Our talented trio of researchers will leave no space gash unexplored!

Excuse #2: Disciplinary Action

Ms. Lauper, the primary user of our thesaurus, has been on double-secret extra-strength exclusionary probation as a result of serious breaches of contract, namely violations of subsections related to hair care and preserving the dignity of any imaginary creatures she might impersonate.

Excuse #1: We've Been Real Busy

Yeah, we haven't had much time for blogging because we've been hanging out at Las Vegas Thane's pad working on tunes with his cat.

No More Goofing Around

I know I promised we'd never do anything as silly as the St.Patrick's Day Celebration Festival Party Shows ever again. But then I was kidnapped and hypnotized and led astray the very next weekend. But I really really promise now that we'll get back to business as usual for the coming April Fool's Day/Guido and Larry Birthday Blast/Time Change Extravaganza weekend, you know, taking ourselves very seriously and showing the world how much we all still have to learn from the 80s.

Guido's Birthday

As many of you know, Guido Menudo has a birthday this Saturday, April 1st, and boy, does he have an April Fool's joke planned for you! So come on out to Big Guys South in the ancient city of Midlothian this Saturday night.

That's his roadie on the left, picking his bass up from the shop. Those animals mounted behind her are all going to be part of his birthday feast.

You Thought We Were Stupid LAST Weekend

We're about to prove there's more to the Brat Pack than dressing up like silly green unrelated-to-the-occasion characters! Yeah, we're older and wiser now and will never screw up like that again.

We Have A Winner!

It's official! The polls have closed, and your votes on what is undoubtedly our world's most critical issue have been counted, some twice. By a landslide, Walkin on Sunshine is considered to have the juiciest of all bass solos, with a solid majority of 55% (32 votes.) TOM's mysterious supporters have hinted that they like it best because it takes the least time away from important guitar stuff. Apparently Bang on the Drum is dull and boring, earning only 21% of votes (12), with Head Over Heels not able to claim much of a lead (24% or 14 votes,) and that only thanks to Guido discovering how to vote multiple times.

How We Got Ready for St. Patrick's Day

In preparation for the huge green binge of the next two days, New Wave Dave did a lot of research on how the saint who led away Ireland's snakes came to be honored by so much beer and whiskey. Did he also drive out the monkeys and the elephants and the kangaroos, leaving nothing but potatoes and leprechauns and little pots of gold? Whatever, thanks a lot Pat! After cleaning up the sulfur explosion in his top secret basement laboratory, Josh of Seagulls synchronized a fleet of laptops for our massive instant message party at Tommy G's (now a hotspot). We've had the Jessbot on a charger since Sunday, following reports that his persistently low battery was upsetting female fans. TOMMY TUBULAR has been making out with the Blarney Stone in order to preserve his reputation as the most persuasive debater on earth. Menudo's on a secret mission, to be revealed next weekend at the Copper Dragon. And I spent the whole week at the Old School Dance Party Hip Hop Boot Camp, only to be suspended for letting a guest star show up with her hair a mess - no fair! - but at least I'll get to hang out with Guido. If he calls.

Get a Comb

We might at first be tempted to turn to the Blondie papers for guidance in how to deal with repeated instances of egregious hygiene. As it happens, the fault does truly lie with our own Lynndi Lauper who bears responsibility for the actions of all subcontracted guest appearances. If a hairstyle is too much to ask, then a brush may be useful. If no brush, comb, pick, or set of fingers can perform the magic we seek, Ms. Lauper may find herself with the weekend off too.

Think Donnie Brasco

Guido says he needs the weekend off to be with someone very special, someone from out of town with beautiful blonde hair. According to TOMMY, blondes are becoming extinct; he read it somewhere or saw it on TV, so it must be true. Anyway, I'm getting suspicious of Guido's time off, since you can barely recognize him in disguises like this one, and weird things happen right after his mysterious vacations. The last time, I got a phone call from Blockbuster about late movies. The time before that, nasty letters from the library about overdue new wave magazines. And pretty regularly, Big Brother just happens to show up at Guido-free gigs to issue double-tickets for fighting for our right to party AND for partying like it's 1999. I suggest everyone watch what they say around sweet sweet Mr. Menudo.

Irish or Not, Here We Come

So what if it's lederhosen?

So what if we're a delicious smoothie of German, English, Greek, Mexican, Sicilian, Puerto Rican, etc., and only one part Authentic Dubliner?

All we need is a whip, some green stuff, and the will to rock, and we'll be kissing the Blarney Stone as lovingly as the next guy.

Just Around the Corner

Behold!
The Shame and the Glory!

The greatest drinking holiday of them all approaches. It's enough to turn The Brat Pack green.

Where in the World is TOMMY TUBULAR?

In a recent comment, Jesse Van Halen brought up a very real concern, namely that TOMMY TUBULAR seems to have been sucked through the lampshade and into a parallel universe, never to be heard from again. If you can help us find him, you will be rewarded with RAWK forever.

Most Awesome Crossword Winner Ever!

Jeff Hintz, Quality Assurance Technician (is that the guy who makes sure stuff isn't crumbling or does he take complaints?), is so smart that he solved the St. Patrick's Day Crossword Puzzle with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. And he solved it faster than anyone has ever solved one of our mind-benders! For this triumph, he will receive an UNOPENED (yeah, Larry, you heard right) copy of Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease DVD #1!

Go Lampshade!

This Saturday, TOMMY was either delayed at Menard's or abducted by aliens and then deposited in a subtle condition (in truth, he was the only Packer sexy AND smart enough to attend the 150th Mardi Gras.) Then, all of a sudden, Mister T Washington made a rare and fabulous appearance up front with the guy in the dress! Booties were shook.

Sexy AND Smart!

After several weeks, TOMMY TUBULAR, last-minute winner of the sexiness poll, finally cracked the code, solving the TOMMY trivia crossword puzzle that had everyone else stumped! For this triumph, he wins an all-expense paid trip to Taylorville this Friday night. And we'll bring him back too!

New Brat Pack Instrument

Jesse VanHalen has a new keyboard idea that I think you're all going to love.

I think the picture is pretty self-explanatory.

Say What?

Tommy G's is now a hot spot! You can stick your kids over in the germphobe's nightmare next door and sit around all day blogging and tipping your bartender, and then when we show up for the St. Patrick's Day extravaganza, we'll bring our laptops and IM each other whenever one of us goofs (Hello McFly!) or thinks the others should look up (Fight!) That's not just gnarly, it's bitchin.

Now It's a Triple Dog Dare

Some would have given up hope by now. Bass players and their stupid union have way too much power. As if it wasn't enough for them to control all three branches of government and to get away with concealing hundreds of TOMMY's sexiness votes (yeah, pollhost called to report this suspicious activity), now they attempt to bully those of us playing in the higher frequencies. What has the world come to? The phone is ringing off the hook with people crying about how tonight they won't get to see the Jungle Party Love a Lot Care Bear AKA Guido Menudo, and how uncool the rest of us are for not being fully credentialled taco joke tellers. And now Sixteen Kendells, clearly an agent of the union, has taken to dropping little hints that he has somehow assisted New Wave Dave in asserting his superiority at Daddio's. Hey Kendells, I didn't get an MA in crypticology for nothing! But you don't have to worry, Joliet Jen and Dennis Myspace and Matt Myspace Plus Honeys, the non-bass playing segment of this band has plenty of ego strength, computer hacking skills, and sexy threads. We will not be intimidated tonight. We will kick to the gods of rock more gloriously than ever. And we will turn those bossy bass players all the way down in our monitors and do just fine without them!

C'mon, New Wave, I Double Dog Dare You!

Okay, New Wave Dave, you've made your point. You can win the sexiness survey anytime you want, whether it's by commandeering a hundred computers, hacking pollhost.com, bribing the wireless gang down at Espresso to vote for you, or hoodwinking TOMMY TUBULAR devotees into using those funky paper ballots and then saying they don't count because you're scared of papercuts. Go ahead! Everyone knows that in a contest of who rocks hardest, even such very dirty tricks will not help you!

Why Bass Players Need a Union

More secret spy photos from our Christmas party (these taken by the party crasher with her special third eye implant camera) show an early attempt to organize and the tragic results. I'm in the background doing my best to bust the nascent union, trying to confuse Menudo and New Wave with praise for their vocal performances. There's Larry laughing behind their backs, and since everyone knows that all sound engineers are bass players, I can only figure him for a potential scab. Later, Sixteen Kendells, who claims to know so much about bass players and their unique occupational hazards and fears of inadequacy, suggested Larry hit the road after he said something very rude about guitarists.

Cheesecake baby

word has it that some sax-player-recruiting' no-good-keyboard-playin' robot requested homemade cheesecake last night. He is (as usual) too late, but...because he's so damn adorable, I thought I'd comply (so here's your picture JVH)...if Lynndi calls me, I'll give the recipe...

Lynndi in Charge

I know I probably shouldn't be publishing this photograph, but I thinks it's important that you - the Brat Pack fans, know the truth behind this band.

Lynndi Lauper rules with an iron fist. And she's not afraid to use it to keep everybody in line. Just look at poor Tommy Tubular - he talked about only giving 105% effort before the show at S2X instead of the Brat Pack's customary 110%.

Needless to say, he gave 112% effort that night. Way to go Lynndi!

Proof That We Aren't Lip Synching

Once when we played in Rock Island, some guys brought that question. Maybe they were tricked by our magical 20th century electronic equipment - you know, how could we rock so hard without megaphones? Or maybe they couldn't believe our dead on performances, such as forgetting the words to Material Girl in just exactly the same spots Madonna goofed on her hit single. Perhaps they figured five people as sexy as we are (refer to sidebar survey) and with such terrific dance moves could only be professional models and therefore not likely to carry a tune. Fortunately for us, as we venture to the Quad Cities this weekend, I have compelling photographic evidence from the last gig there. It demonstrates that we are, in fact, a hologram, and therefore could not be lipsynching.

What If I Am Injured by the Second "T" in "Hott"?

Due to the recent Bass Players Union takeover of this blog, and owing to their excessive display of forbidden linguistic oddities such as "booty" and "hott," of which they are apparently fully credentialled users, I am beginning to fear for my safety, not to mention job security. What if their subsonic ultraglam wavelength shakes that extra "t" loose, and it smashes me in the forehead like a flying headstock? The Brat Pack had many a fabulous chick singer before me (that's Madawna on the left and Gloria Newton John on the right), and I'm sure they'll carry on without me, but you better pray they don't cut corners by doing drag again.

Lovingly, Madawna Shared Sweet Rhymes

Madawna was the first of many fabulous chick singers in The Brat Pack. She continues to watch over us, making sure we stay 100% romantic for this holy holiday. Today she sent along several enchanting entries from a Washington Post competition. We adore you too, baby!


Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
But I only slept with you, because I was pissed.
*************************

I thought that I could love no other
Until, that is, I met your brother.
**************************

Roses are red, violets are blue,
sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,
the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
**************************

Of loving beauty you float with grace,
If only you could hide your face.
****************************

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot,
This describes everything you are not.
******************************

I want to feel your sweet embrace,
But don't take that paper bag off of your face.
*******************************

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
************************************

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife --
Marrying you screwed up my life.
************************************

I see your face when I am dreaming,
That's why I always wake up screaming.
*************************************

My love, you take my breath away --
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
*************************************

My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go To Hell."
*************************************

What inspired this amorous rhyme? --
Two parts vodka, one part lime!

Tasty Treats

Jessie Van Halen, a.k.a. Jessco White, suggested to me recently that the brat pack may be looking for a head chef, and that, moreover, I, Jaybriel, might fit the bill. He is under the mistaken impression that I am the same person as the writer of the blog Better than the Rest(aurant), found here: http://eatingcheznous.blogspot.com . I encourage him to check his facts First

Mr Van Halen, or is it White, is clearly wishing he could eat my famous 7-layer nachos, purchased serruptitiously from the T.B. on University avenue. Are they endangered. I think so.

New Wave Dave's Night Off

What does New Wave Dave do on his many nights off from the Brat Pack? I'm glad you asked! Here is a short list of his important duties as back up Brat Pack bass player:

• Rewatch all movies starring one of the Cory's
• Clean, press, and organize the band's parachute pants collection
• Test new 80's props for durability, flexibility, and fun-ability
• Master the facial expressions of Anthony Michael Hall
• Write petition to bring back New Coke
• Do 80 push-ups and 80 sit-ups
• Relax with a good issue of Tiger Beat
  

Oh Why Did the Grammies Have to Suck So Bad?

Prince without a Revolution? Aerosmith with no Run DMC? Sting on his own, no Police protection? It's enough to make a man act like the Easter Bunny. As if this wasn't confusing enough, I didn't notice a single appearance by Flock of Seagulls, AC/DC, the GoGos, Bon Jovi, Blondie, or Devo. Were they backstage gagged and bound by all those bodybuilder divas? They didn't even have the ghost of Michael Jackson there to judge a moonwalk contest. On the upside, there was a pretty convincing Madonna impersonator, and some guys who looked a little like U2 won something or at least acted like they did.

Like DJ Katy Said It Would Be

That's DJ Katy squashed somewhere among us at S2X in Cool City. She told us we'd do it, she told the audience we'd do it, so we altered the space/time continuum and set up at http://myspace.com/bratpack80. New Wave Dave was the mastermind, but he's not evil enough to poison the guys who already claimed "bratpack" and "thebratpack" over there. Don't worry - there's time, and I'm on the case. We already have friends and fair-weather friends and friends of friends and friends who act like they don't recognize us when they see us in public and friends who make us not need enemies. But we couldn't let the world's hottest DJ down, right?

I Told You GI Joe Was Trouble

Didn't I warn you that GI Joe is always ready to drop trou? Even after Sixteen Kendells hauled him off the Tommy G's stage this weekend, he snuck right back on just in time to slip out of the shiny silver Brat Pack Dancer pants and show off his stylin' briefs. He wasn't even drunk or anything!


Here's more proof of his bad influence. With the tiny spy camera hidden in my corsage at our Christmas Party, I snapped these photos of Joe telling TOMMY how funny it would be to smash a beer bottle over the mouse's head once they lured it in with promises of rock stardom and cheese. Poor TOMMY - everyone's trying to spoil his image. I wouldn't be surprised to learn it was Joe who slipped me the mickey (careful, that's a pun) that made me think TOM was a Willy Wonka toy.