Jammin' With Todd
Tuesday, July 28, 2009

This picture came courtesy of my friend Emory Joseph, who you can see next to me on the far left. That's Todd Snider, one of my favorite songwriters, in the middle. This was snapped a little more than a year ago at Banjo Jim's in what was one of those special, memorable, musical New York City nights.

Todd rolled in to Banjo's with his buddy Kevn Kinney near the end of a Newville Session, a singer-songwriter showcase hosted by Brooke Lundy (the redhead to my right). Brooke, Emory and I formed a sort of backup-singer line and Keith Christopher (to Todd's right) dubbed us, "The Visible Panty Line." (Keeping track so far?)

Todd ambled up on stage and asked himself, "What should I play?"

I yelled to him, "Play "Easy Money!'" A song I learned a long time ago from my friend Bob Wire.

Todd looked at me with wide eyes and a big grin and said, "You KNOW that one?"

Sho' 'nuff. We played songs 'til LATE. That night was stupid fun.

Just last night I lamented the fact that I've shelled out too many bucks for lame concerts. I made a list of people I'd pay to see and Todd Snider was at the top.

Because the only time I've seen Todd Snider so far, I was on the damn stage with him!

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Rough Night At The Office, Good Party
Friday, July 24, 2009

(Real live bleeding fingers...)

Looking forward to my fourth Banjo Jim's Happy Hour tonight. If my guitar playing is a little rustier than usual, at least I have a dramatic excuse.

I got my beat up pretty good and had my left hand chomped by a police dog in Jersey City early Wednesday morning.

I was out at Shayni Rae's Electric Truckstop Tuesday night when I got the call. Jersey City police shot and killed a woman who stabbed one officer in the head and another in the arm. It's been a real rough week for Jersey City police. Days earlier five officers were shot by a shotgun-wielding criminal. One died.

I went first to he hospital and then to the scene of the incident, a four-story brick apartment building on a block that the police spokesman had warned me moments earlier was "bad." The crime scene was still active, and a cop with a canine guarded the buildings' front door.

I talked to around a dozen people and then a stocky man in his 20's wearing basketball shorts, a basketball jersey and a ballcap walked out of the building and past the officer. I walked up to him, apologized for bothering him, and explained that I was a reporter helping out with a story about the shooting. I asked if he'd seen or heard anything.

The man stared at me for a few moments. Then he lunged at me and knocked me to the ground with a haymaker. I hit the cement and the guy pummeled me with punches and kicks, bashing big lumps onto the back and sides of my skull.

I'd love to tell you that I fought back with kung-fu moves, but in that fight my move was to curl into the fetal position and protect my front and face. I also knew my only way out was to get that cop's attention, so I hollered at him.

The cop came over with the dog and pulled the guy off me. The excited German Shepherd's jaws snapped around. The guy was still trying to hit me, and I was still trying to fend him off. Somewhere in this melee the dog bit my left ring and middle fingers. Blood dripped down my hand.

Another cop came over to restrain the guy and when the guy tussled with him, the cop hosed his face down with mace. As the man went down the dog bit his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles. The man lay in handcuffs on the pavement naked from the waist down.

(Grainy cell phone pic of cops looking down at the guy. Note to readers: don't want your bare ass shown on my blog? Please refrain from kicking the holy living shit out of me.)

More cops flooded the scene and, not knowing my story, threw me up against the wall ("Get your fucking hands in the air! Who the fuck are you?"). When they saw my press badge one said, "His story checks out."

They put me in an ambulance and took me back to the hospital. Doctors cleaned my wounds, x-rayed my hand and gave me a tetanus shot and an antibiotics prescription.

My attacker came in a separate ambulance. They wheeled him right past me in the emergency room.
We meet again, Jersey City Medical Center.

Later, a cop came up to me and said, "Do you know who that guy is?" I told him that the man never said a word to me, even as he beat me. "That's the son of the lady who was killed," he said.

Some people hate journalists for exactly that reason, that we dare to talk to people who have just gone through tragedy. I can see the point, but I still think it's the right thing to do. Talking to witnesses, often family and friends, keeps police and public officials honest. It also helps show the world what goes on in inner cities.

I'm very conscious of the fact that in my job I talk to a lot of people on the worst day of their lives: the day their son was murdered, or the day their mom died. I try to approach everyone on the street as sensitively as I can, fully aware that anyone I meet might have just lost someone they cared for. I'm not new and I'm not a fool. If somebody tells me to fuck off, especially if I know they're victim's family, I do. I'm polite on the streets, not pushy.

I also give people carte blanche to react any way they want. Heaven forbid if it was me in their shoes, I don't know what I'd do. I've been punched in the eye and cursed out. I've also had families bring me into their homes and show me photo albums and home videos. For everyone who gets angry at a reporter for asking them about someone they lost, another appreciates it.

When the cop told me this guy was the son of the woman the cops shot, it made me feel low. That guy had a bad night, and then he got maced, stripped and hauled to jail. I had no way of knowing that's who he was, and I had no intention of making his night worse (conversely, I had no intention of getting stomped either).

The whole incident just made me feel bad.

Until the next night when I went out and partied with Tony Bennett.

Dude, Tony Bennett, Brandy Wood & Me. "Hey Tony, next time you're on stage, why not try making a face like this one?")



Thanks Tony.

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The More You Suck, The Better You Sound
Saturday, July 18, 2009

A day after doing another good, solo-acoustic gig with my 12-string guitar at Banjo Jim's , I was harp guy, guest Mississippi Saxophonist.

Saturday morning and early afternoon I recorded three blues songs as the mouth organ player for probably my favorite band in New York, The Izzys. These guys play dirty, gritty rock and roll that SWINGS. Singer/songwriter/guitarman Mike Storey's been cool enough to invite me to perform with them on harmonica several times and I love it. Playing with this band is like lassoing a stuntplane - it's an exhilarating ride but hold on, it gets intense.

Mike says he's going to release the three songs we recorded on iTunes. He's threatening to call the EP, "Blues Orgy."

At night I played with another favorite NYC band, Spanking Charlene at the Lakeside Lounge. They had me blow harp on a cool new tune called "Where Are The Freaks?"

I love the harmonica, especially blues harp. For you non-harp players, there are two basic styles of playing harmonica. One is called "straight harp" where the emphasis is on notes you blow, the other is called "blues harp" where you emphasize notes you suck. I play blues harp some, but not too much, on New Heathens songs and even less during my solo gigs (though I am playing more straight harp on a rack; hey if you're doing the Dylan thing you gotta' DO the Dylan thing).

If a solo is required, the harmonica is the only instrument I can do it with. That being said, I can get the job done better than most of the clowns who call themselves harp players in these NYC clubs (not to toot my own horn, or harmonica as the case may be).

However my skills on blues harp I can attribute to one simple, unique fact: it's the only instrument where the more you suck, the better you sound.

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In Support of Cool Animals: Sharks & Buffalo
Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Some fur & fin stuff...

Saw a great segment on the Rachel Maddow Show last night, pitched and produced by the great Tina Cone, about shark attack survivors lobbying congress to protect sharks. Excellent stuff!



(Bonus points for anybody who can recognize the same Guadalupe great white in the segment above in footage from my own great white YouTube, which I'll take any opportunity to link to this blog.)


Also dug this open letter to Mt. Gov. Brian Schweitzer about buffalo in Montana on New West. Dude who wrote it thinks a lot like me. To get a 'gist of the contentious viewpoints on both sides of the "buffalo roam" issue, read the public comments (note who kicked 'em off...)

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Thanks Terry!
Monday, July 13, 2009

Some awfully nice pix courtesy of my friend Terry Truelove who, in addition to having one of the best names on earth, was nice enough to come out to Banjo Jim's last Friday with her husband John Truelove of the band Coppersonic.






With Charlene McPherson.






"Proud Highway" with "Banjo" Drina Seay.

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Sequel

Banjo's Round II featured a duet with Banjo Drina and a woman you've read about here before whose music I adore, Charlene McPherson. The gig also featured an appearance by superfan Minerva (who has seen me play in five states) and her pal Lisa. Paul Thornton, who attended with his wife, commented on the flailing I gave my new Washburn 12-string and suggested I call the event "Nate Schweber and his Wild Washburn." I'll take it under advisement! See you this Friday, 7 p.m. sharp.

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Sequence
Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Just thought I'd share.

New Heathens -- "Hello Disaster"

1. Crybaby
2. I Thought You Were My Friend
3. Responsible
4. Thankless War
5. Don't Think I Can't Stop (Just Because I Don't)
6. Pig Pen
7. Only Gets Better
8. Feelin' Lucky Again
9. Proud Highway
10. 27 Years
11. Bastard Like Me

Coming soon...

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Not EVEN Cryin' Wolf
Monday, July 6, 2009

Did my first gig with my new 12-string guitar at Banjo Jim's last Friday. I stayed in tune and had a good time. Thanks to my friend Eileen O'Sullivan (wife or Rich from Fourteen Feet) for the pix.

Remember, I'll be at Banjo Jim's every Friday at Happy Hour (7 p.m. sharp!) for the whole month of July. I'll play stuff from the first New Heathens record, as well as tracks from the brand new record...

Speaking of that long-awaited record, it's finally mixed, mastered AND sequenced. You didn't even read it here first. Roscoe confirmed it on his blog.

Last week I met with my great friend Michael St. George (who did my beautiful Banjo Jim's poster plus the last Gram Parsons tribute poster). We talked about cover art. That'll be the last piece of the puzzle we need before I send it to the factory for (minor) mass production.

I'm not EVEN cryin' wolf, this record is comin'.

And it's a good 'un too.

Apologies to anybody who tried to surf into this site during the day or so it was down. Back up and running again.

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It begins again...
Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Nate Schweber, live and free at Banjo Jim's,, on the corner of 9th and C in the East Village, every Friday happy hour in July. Show starts at 7 p.m.

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