This one time at a hippie electronic music festival…


I rarely play music festivals but I’m playing Shambhala this year and it got me thinking about this funny shit that happened at festival I played a long time ago. Usually, I go to these things alone, play, and get out as quickly as possible. It’s just not my scene. but this one time, it was a drivable distance from NYC so I invited a few friends with me and we made a night out of it. The plan was to take some shrooms and some molly and whyle the fuck out. My friends needed minimal prompting so it was an easy sell.

It was a super duper backwoods hippie festival in New Hampshire. We arrived on the grounds, got the lay of the land and pretty much had like 4 hours to kill before i had to play. My friends had no obligations so they took shrooms right away but I had to wait til after I was done “working”. I decided i was gonna pop my molly halfway through my set and see what happens. I did and , with like ten minutes left, it kicked in. For real, it was the most fun I ever had playing in my life. By the time I got off stage, I was HIGH. Right then, a camera crew starts to interview me. Reminder: I was so high…but I was also beaming cause my Serotonin was doing cartwheels in my brain. I willfully and joyfully do the interview and thank god it never surfaced cause I bet I looked like a complete saucer eyed psycho.

After I got off stage I located my friends and I took the shrooms , while my friends took their molly. They had been tripping for a few hours at this point and , adding the molly to it, were pretty far ahead of me. Because I was an artist, I had access to a special “backstage area” which was basically open farm land and a cabin where artists could chill, eat and use the bathroom. We were all tripping and decided it would be a great idea to go there and pee and be indoors for a little cause it was pretty cold out. But also, the whole “changing of scenery” quest one does when tripping was in full effect. We walked down this long, almost pitch dark pathway, lit only by scattered glow sticks (of course it was cause festival). We go the house and entered the main room. I recall it being pretty empty. maybe one of two people in it. There was a couch there so my friends and I b-lined for that. basking in the comfort of the couch, one of my friends needed to use the bathroom but just as she got up to do that, a very intense man in a pink fur coat came in and the other people in the room seemed very focused on him. Turns out, he was one of the festival paramedics (I actually named a song after him cause it was such a bizarre sight to see a guy who looked like the lead singer of Midnight Oil , in a pink fur , NO SHIRT underneath and some weird colorful raver pants be the person who might just save your life). Anyway, turns out a girl had locked herself in the bathroom and was unresponsive. The only girls in the room where my two friends. They turned to us and asked if anyone could go in and check on her. I guess they wanted a girl to go in , in case she was exposed or something. I was happy to not be an option cause I was way too high and that would literally be the last thing I wanna do…possibly find a dead person…ON SHROOMS? no thanks. But one of my friends reacted as if it was nothing and was like “Sure, I’ll do it”. This this day, that blows my mind. I don’t know if you’ve done Mushrooms before but taking responsibility in social and public situations is pretty low on the list of desired activities. I once had a near meltdown with friends , while shrooming, cause none of us wanted to go get a bottle of water from the bodega. We were scared of THAT concept. So, imagine being super high and being asked to go check if some random girl is maybe dead on a toilet. But my friend did that…and the girl was alive. Just passed out. She made sure the girl wasn’t in any compromising positions and send in Doctor sunflower to check on her. My friend was in the bathroom for what felt like an hour (but was probably like 2 minutes) so when she got out we are ready to GTFO there, Like, I’m not a “vibes” guy, in general. but in that moment, I was MR. Vibes and the vibes were dark and ominous so we needed to not be in there anymore.

Majestic black horse with hoof raised.


We stepped outside and it was like the cold air washing over us changed everything. The heaviness of that other situation evaporated and we were back on our path. We walked around the secluded area where only artists could be. It was a farm so we passed a horse.I almost didn’t believe he was real, at first. Ever seen a horse when you’re tripping? It’s something else. Pretty sure I tried to talk to her and told her how majestic she was. Or not. But it was something. The cold was becoming overwhelming so we decided we would go warm up in my friends car and listen to music. We got in and my friend put on “Drunk in love” by Beyonce and, I gotta say, it seemed like the best song ever at that time. I remember blabbering in about the production and being just blown away at the whole construction of the song cause I was absolutely tripping my balls off. I mean, it’s a cool song but high me REALLY felt it. Which is very funny to look back on and makes me kinda wish i had video of me in that moment so I could show future generations and be like “That’s what high people do”.

So, after we warmed up in the car, we decided to brave into the actual festival. This was a little nerve wracking but also kinda exciting. We walked on the campus and the first thing I saw was one of those art tents. At these festivals they often have these “shops” where people sell their art. It’s generally art based on drugs or hippie shit and, to the sober eye, is terrible. Well, when I saw it in that condition i was like “ohhhhhhh I get it now!”. Keep in mind, I still didn’t think it was good but I finally understood the appeal of it. And my mushroom mind went down that path for a while, which was amusing, to say the least.

So we are just walking around the grounds, It’s pretty dark and all the people passing us seemed like shadows. We decide to check out one of the music tents cause what else are we gonna do? Now, I’m no fan of EDM. In fact, I kinda think it’s the worst. That said, when on the right combo of drugs, I’ve been known to be more lenient to certain kinds of music. We walk in this tent and bunch of extremely high scattered hippies were dancing to music that can best be described as what would happen if you put some cymbals and a robot in a dryer and set it on “fuck your ears”. Not even in my highest state could I tolerate it so we dipped out. It should be noted that one of my friends who was with me came up in the NYC club scene and was very down to stay so sorry to her. Couldn’t do it.

I think we meandered around for a little more and decided it was time to leave. My friend who drove us there had been high for , i dunno, 6 or 7 hours so she felt confident about driving us back to out hotel a mile or so away. It’s 4 am in new hampshire in the middle of nowhere so it’s not like there was much activity. At least that’s how we justified doing what we definitely shouldn’t have been doing…driving anywhere on mushrooms and molly. So, we did it. She drove. she drove great. It wasn’t far and we didn’t see another car on the road. I’m pretty sure she drove like 25 miles per hour the whole way. The entire time, assuring us she was good. It was misty out and it actually looked very beautiful , as things tend to look when you’re high on mushrooms. We go to the hotel and she parked saying “Wow, I can’t believe i just made it here”. Score one for bad choices that pan out!

We got into our shitty Days Inn hotel room. The girls shared one bed and I had the other. we milled about, cleaned up and had high conversations for a while until we all eventually fell asleep. The next day we woke up, braindead as ever, and headed back the city.

A few days later, I get a text from one of the girls asking me if I had any bug bites on me. I did not. Then the other girls responded (it was group text) “Umm,..yeah, I’m covered in them”. WHELP…turns out the bed they slept in had bed bugs. OOOOOOOPS. Me being the lucky piece of shit I am, avoided it entirely but they go devoured. Go days Inn. They took all the proper precautions and were fine but , apparently , being covered in bed bug bites really sucks. All i could think about was those bed bugs sucking that drugged up blood and tripping their faces off before they died from an overdose. What a way to go out.

So, yeah, that was the last festival I played. Can’t say I’ll ever do any of that again but it was certainly memorable. And isn’t that what life is all about…memories? and Bed bugs. And festival paramedics dressed like club kids. God bless America.

Blockhead live 2012


So, a common question people ask me at shows is “Hey, are you gonna upload this set anywhere?” To which I typically respond “Nope” cause, in 2017, my live show is really one of the last ways I can rely on making money as a musician. So, you know, I gotta keep my shows exclusive so people have a reason to come see me play. It may be flawed logic but I’ve always ran with that. Welllllll…Perhaps I’m getting softer in my old age but I figured I change my ways…kinda. I happened upon a recording of an old set of mine. I don’t know where it was from and the only clue was “2012”. It’s a little under an hour but it gives you an idea of what I typically do live. Mixing and matching parts of all my records, as well as throwing in stuff from all over. Soul, hip hop, even country music. Nothing is out of bounds. I’ll also add that the levels and quality of the mix aren’t perfect (I didn’t record it so I didn’t get to fine tune any aspect of any of how it sounds). So keep that in mind if the levels seem iffy at times.
So, yeah, this ones for all the people who’ve been asking over the years. My hope is that you’ll hear this, think it’s cool and come see me do it lives sometime. So, lemme roll these dice right quick…
Enjoy!

Answers for Questions Vol. 296

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What’s up everyone? How’s life? Great.
This is, of course, Answers for questions. You ask me stuff, i answer. I need questions though…that’s where you come in. please send me questions about ANYTHING to phatfriendblog@gmail.com or leave them in the comment section below. Also, I’m accepting “Ask Dr. Tony” Questions as well , if you’re having life problems.
This weeks batch starts out interestingly as I basically am asked to make up a story on some “creative writing 101” shit…but it was fun. So, feel free to ask me those kind of things as well. Why not?

After a night of extremely heavy drinking, you awake to find yourself in the back of cement truck, wearing clogs and dungarees. The King of Sweden has passed out next to you, there are grapes all over the floor and, in the distance, a village is on fire. How did it happen?
The night started out like any other. I was passing through Stolkholm , on my way back from some tour dates. Having a day off, I was roaming aimlessly around the city. Bored, I sheepishly enter a bar and have a seat. Some Soccer is on TV and the place is pretty riled up. I don’t give a fuck about soccer but some dude next to me really does and keeps buying everyone drinks. I am no exception. As the night progresses, I talk more to this man and learn he is the “King of Sweden”. Well, that’s what he says. He’s actually just a really drunk Swede who loves company. Nice enough guy and everyone seems to know him well enough. They call him “Kung”. After a few hours, I am properly wrecked. The whole bar is. I guess some local Soccer team won something or whatever but the party does not stop here. Along with a group of about 20 people, we all leave the bar and head to our second destination. We hop in various cars. Weird cars. Some are sports cars, some look like they belong to the city. Threre’s even a tractor and a garbage truck…an american garbage truck at that but I was too drunk to ask any questions.
We drive for what seems like hours (it was probably like 30 minutes) and pull into a grape orchard. I didn’t even realize that could exist near Stolkholm but I guess it does. Everyone takes their shoes off and runs towards a small wooden shack in the middle of the orchard. Keep in mind, I don’t speak swedish so I’m just kinda blindly following whatever these lunatics are doing. With my shoes in hand, I get to the shack and am handed some clogs. “Des, a fur stompin!” says the woman who gives them to me. “Also, you might to take off your pants! it get messy!” she said in broken english. So, I take off my pants, put on the clogs and enter the shack. Inside, there’s a huge vat of grapes. We are hear to stomp on grapes…doesn’t seem sanitary but, hey, the fuck if I know how wine is made. Everyone dumps into the vat and just starts stomping around. It’s actually a pretty fun drunken activity. Everyone seems to really be enjoying themselves. I notice that, as this goes on, the act is getting more and more aggressive. As if this is more of a mosh pit. I see people start to throw one another down. All of a sudden , in my drunk stupor, I realize this isn’t some normal grape stomping party. No…this is a battle royale. At that moment. a small blonde man jumps on my back and tries to take me down. he’s small enough that I just flip him over my shoulder. I see as he falls into the pit, a collage of feet, stomping away at his petite frame like so many grapes. It’s then when I get scared and realize I must make an exit. Doing my best Beastmode impression, I lower my shoulders and plow through a sea of drunken swedes. I get to the edge of the vat and barrel roll over the side. It’s only like a 5 foot drop so I land safely enough. Partially cause I land on a pile of passed out bodies. Are they dead? I don’t really know. Not trying to find out. The action in the vat is such that I am able to sneak out the cabin unnoticed…but here I am…Alone in a swedish wine vineyard with no pants. I look in the distance and see a few of the people ambling towards the garbage truck. I figure they might be my only way out of there. Right then, I notice a pile of pants outside the door. I can’t find mine but I find some really awkward dungarees that don’t really fit me, but fuck it…they will have to do. I stiffly run towards the garbage truck, clogs kicking up dirt as I go. The two guys are now in the front seat and the garbage truck is pulling off. I make it just in time to hope in the back without being noticed. As I jump in, I crack my head on the side on some big metal part of the truck. I pass out.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out but, when I awaken, I’m sitting there, in clogs and dungarees. Grapes everywhere. I look in the distance and the entire vineyard is ablaze. I turn my head and see “The king of Sweden” , laying there with a little smirk on his face, eyes half shut in that “still drunk” kinda way.. I ask “What the fuck just happened!?!?” and he looks at me and says “Soccer, man”.
The end.

i like to think of myself as a highly functional stoner. what do you suppose the odds are i’m bullshitting myself?
I’ve definitely met many high functioning stoners so it’s not totally impossible. i do think the average stoner who thinks that doesn’t realize what being functional can truly be like but, yeah, you got a chance. I’d say, if you can read a book, make reservations or do your work while high AND be effective, you’re good at being high. Congrats. But if being a functional stoner means not forgetting to pick your kid up from school, might be time to reevaluate your life.

are you able to keep houseplants alive? do you keep any houseplants?
I have never tried but I’d imagine , if I wanted to, I would be very good at that. I’m one of those people who, if I get a regiment, I stick to it. So, if watering a plant became something I did every day, then I’d do it. That said, I travel way too much for that to work and I never wanna be a person who asks another person “Hey man, can you water my plants while I’m gone?”.

from your travels, what do you suppose the best alternative to nyc is for a person who wants to live cheap? if you ever had money troubles, would you move out of nyc? where would you go?

I mean…there isn’t anywhere like NYC that’s cheap. It wouldn’t be cheap cause everyone would wanna live there.
I guess somewhere like Toronto would be my first choice. It’s not cheap but, compared to NYC it is. It’s a fun city.
Or maybe , if you want that old NYC feel, Philly. Again, not the same as NYC at all but it’s an east coast city with flavor and history. Can’t say I’d ever wanna live there but it’s at least nearby and not Boston.
If I came into money problems and couldn’t afford NYC, I really don’t know what I’d do. San Francisco would be my second choice but that’s as, if not more, expensive as NYC. Honestly, I’m thinking it won’t be an issue cause I own my apartment. Worst case, I can live here for cheap, forever. Maybe even rent it out for a profit, and live off that.

what do you do when you get really fucking bored at home?
I bask in boredom. I spend the bulk of most of my days at home, bored and I love it. I watch tv, I watch movies, I play video games, I eat, I eat more, I look at the internet. I’m very content doing nothing. Honestly, it’s when I’m bored that I make the most music too. So, it kinda works itself out. To me, boredom at home isn’t a bad thing…cause it results in me doing things I love doing anyway.

When you were a kid, do you remember the first music you heard that you loved? When did you first hear rap?


The first song I recall ever hearing that i loved was “Eye of the tiger” by survivor. I was in Maine with my family (my dad taught at an art school up there for the summer) and it came on the radio and I distinctly recall freaking out over it and singing it over and over again. That and the theme to “The greatest american hero” are my earliest memories of music.
The first time i heard rap was not long after that, maybe two years…when the movie “Beat Street” came out. i was about 8 years old. I made my mom take me to it (and she did, which still blows my mind to this day). The Santa rap was the first I ever heard and I was obsessed the second I saw it.

The black cloud people

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Bear with me here cause this all connects in a very loose manner.
I was on a plane the other day , earbuds plugged in, ready to watch two free episodes of “Blackish” cause, well, that’s what was available. The plane was seemingly boarded and I had the whole aisle to myself. Sufficed to say, I was psyched about that. Out of nowhere, 5 more people bustled onto the plane , two of whom plopped down next to me. They were a young couple. At first glance, I’d say they were ,at most, 22 years old. I paid them little mind as I was invested in Blackish at this point and, also, I’m not a chatty traveler. The couple however, did not subscribe to the same game plan. Within moments of fastening his seatbelt, the guy (who was sitting next to me) turned to me as if it was his job and asked “So, you from Dallas?” (I was flying from Dallas to Austin). I removed my ear buds and asked “beg your pardon?”. He repeated his question and I said “nope, just traveling through”. In general, i try and not get into why I’m on planes (I’m doing shows 99% of the time) much cause then it becomes that awful game of “Have you heard of me?” with a stranger who has most certainly not heard of me. I always say “I’m just here visiting friends”. Insistent on continuing this convo (something I noticed a GREAT deal of people do while traveling in the southwest. You motherfuckers LOVE some small talk), he then asked me “So, what do you do?”. This is yet another question I dance around for the same reasons I don’t like telling people I’m in town to play a show. It always ends up with me having to half-assedly describe what kind of music I make to someone who doesn’t really give a shit either way. So, i opt to say “I’m a DJ”. Which is funny…cause I’m not a DJ at all. But , for some reason, it at least relieves the questions of “What kind of music do you make?” and the dreaded “What instrument do you play?!!?”. But this kid kept digging so we eventually told him the truth, he wrote “Blockhead” down in his Iphone notes with promises of checking me out (to be honest, I believe he actually will) and pushed ahead with the discussion. He informed me that he was working his first real job now and how exciting it was. He spoke of how his office was so funny cause he worked with a mormon, a catholic and a jew! He also dropped in that he was a baptist and that his dad was a preacher. He dropped that in various times in the conversation, in fact. The girl with him ,who I later learned was his new wife, was chiming in here and there but he was driving the conversation. They even mentioned going to Turkey recently and how it was weird cause everyone there looked like a terrorist. Cool! Somehow, politics came into it and , man, there is nothing I wanna do less than talk politics while flying through the air, strapped into a seat I can’t jump out of. Add on I’m talking to a 22 year old texas baptist and his child bride and it’s like X10000000. He starts going on about Rand Paul and hillary Clinton and all this horseshit I don’t care about. Was he right? i don’t even know. I don’t follow politics. From the conversation, i learned they were both conservative libertarians. I also, gathered they were both a little racist and definitely weird about sexual politics as well. The think Black people and jews are fine but they’d be pretty bummed if their kid married one.
Like, they probably support gay rights but also wouldn’t wanna share a bathroom with one.

Now, here’s the thing…i say all that to say this…
I’m a patient person. I’m also a person who avoids conflict. Sure, i could have made this interaction awkward a number of times. The fact this kid was just blurting out all the crap at me , assuming I was gonna ride with it was actually pretty confounding to me. He knew I was a liberal yankee. But regardless, i took the high road…or the cowards road, Depending how you look at it. The way i see it, me arguing on a plane with a 22 year old baptist kid isn’t helping anyone. Not me. Not them. Not the people sitting around us. Sometimes, you just gotta let shit go. Especially when it’s some harmless yet completely oppositional lifestyle type thing. These two went to church their whole life, They probably had sex for the first time AFTER they got married. The were raised to believe in certain things that couldn’t be farther from my reality. But, hey, good for them. That’s why they’re who they are and I am who i am. So, like i do in most social interaction, I opted to keep it light and friendly. It would eventually end and my life would go on unscathed.

This interaction got me thinking about two very specific types of people. People with bad luck and people who SEEMINGLY walk under black cloud. One type just seems to have negativity follow them where ever they go. Not cause they bring it upon themselves but cause , for some reason, life hates them. People who have friends dying around them all the time. People who get their houses broken into. People who , inexplicably , just seem like they eat shit all the time. Life just seems like an endless string of misfortune and there truly isn’t an explanation for it. I’m sure my baptist friends would bring god into this but I’m prone to think these types of people just are given a raw deal in life for no reason. They’re good people. They’re kind people. They are people who, if in the same situation as me on that plane, would’ve reacted just like me and their life would simply continue once they got off that plane. Shitty as that life may be at times, it wouldn’t be disrupted by a harmless , if not annoying, chance interaction with some kids on the plane. Those are the bad luck people.

The black cloud people…well…that’s a different story. Black cloud people are those who THINK they’re unlucky but are, in fact, assholes who control their own destiny and choose wrong ALL THE TIME. They are entitled. They have chips on their shoulders. Maybe it’s due to pride. Maybe it’s just the have bad reactions. Maybe it’s cause they’re unaware of their own temper. Whatever it is, it makes their life a series of “unexplainable” mishaps that lead to problems…constantly. ” Oh man, I dunno why but me and this dude got into a screaming match on line at the bagel shop. Second time this week!”
Well…i wasn’t there…but I could venture a guess that whatever happened was AT LEAST 80% your fault. AT LEAST. Cause, as we know , normal sane people don’t get into screaming matches at bagel shops. No, the Black cloud people roam the earth in a smelly dust bowl like Pig pen from Charlie brown, wondering why everyone is out to get them. Not realizing that pig pen just needs to take a fucking shower.

In the situation i was in on that plane…had i been a Black cloud type…I would imagine it would have ended in yelling and possible interaction with a air marshall. If i was that black cloud person, I’d later tell all my friends about these two assholes I met on a plane who started with me about politics and how I let them have it. i would be proud of this. Probably cause, as a black cloud person, I am guided by my own pride. My big , dumb, cunty pride. It’s funny how that word can mean both such good things and bad things. There are so many things an individual can be proud of. But your ego is no one of them.
So, if you’re reading this and feel like you are “bad luck” kinda person, ask yourself this…do other people close to you get in arguments and fights with strangers on a regular basis or is it just you? Do you constantly feel slighted by everyday things that most people don’t even react to? Do you ever feel like a situation could have been avoided if you just simply didn’t say what was on your mind? If the answer is yes or even maybe to either of those questions, guess what? I got great news for you. YOU DON’T HAVE BAD LUCK! Nope…you’re just an asshole. A black cloud over you at all times , pig pen, pride fueled asshole. And the sooner you realize that, the better. Cause…hey, it’s never to late to just hop in the shower.

The Haunting

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I am very much a “take life as it is” kinda guy. I don’t believe in much. God, ghosts, aliens, conspiracy theories. I’m a skeptic by design. With these types of things I look at it as , while anything is possible, most things aren’t probable . Sure, Aliens could exist. In fact, it would be weird if we were the only life forms in this entire universe. But some yokel getting dragged up into a spaceship and tested with different gauged buttplugs? Sounds like an excuse some guy would use to tell his wife to get out of admitting he’s possibly gay. I’m not saying it has NEVER happened, but I doubt it.

So, let’s talk about ghosts. Here’s the thing about those guys. I’ve always felt that, in order for ghosts to be real then there’s a chain of things I don’t believe in that would also be real. Like if ghosts are real, that means, our souls are real. If our souls are real, that means there is a higher power, if there is a higher power, does that mean there is a heaven and hell? Obviously, all these things don’t connect up perfectly but once you start considering one, it opens up the reality of another, all the way to the point where an Athiest , such as myself, might be like “wait a minute….”. So really, my disbelief in ghosts has as much to do with that as it does with me thinking dead people just die and that’s that. I mean, considering how many people die all day, every day, if ghosts existed, we’d be overrun by them. There would be like 200 ghosts in every room of every house. It’s not like death ever stops. But, still…every now and then some weird shit happens and you have that X-files moment. Here’s mine…
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So, around 7 am yesterday, i was awoken by the sounds something clattering in my apartment. I live in a duplex. My bedroom is downstairs and the sounds came from upstairs. I would normally freak out, get a bat , head upstairs and see what the sound way but, honestly, I was so tired that I rolled my eyes , accepted “Hey, I could be murdered right now but , on the off chance it’s nothing, I’d rather be asleep”. Lucky for me, nothing happened. When I finally did wake up and head upstairs, I had already forgotten about the noise that woke me up hours earlier. As I reached the top of the stairs, though, I was quickly reminded. Atop a dresser I have, is a collection of Chachkis (sp?!?). Things people have given me over the years. Weird stuffed animals, small art pieces, funny action figures. Shit like that. These things have all been placed atop the dresser and fashioned in a way to display them. They also haven’t been adjusted or moved in months. Reaching the top of my stairs, i see 3 or 4 of these guys scattered around the floor. All the pieces on the floor were fairly light plastic pieces. The type of things that could have just given away to months of time and shifting. However, I look up and there’s this one piece…it’s an old clay head my dad had made. It’s about the size of a coke can and weighs about 2 pounds. 2 pounds doesn’t sound like much but it’s certainly enough weight to keep something in place in a room with no wind. This piece had not only moved about 5 inches but it was turned half way around. What the fuck. I check my doors. They were both locked. I look to see if anything else had been moved around. Nothing. Clearly, I have a ghost. Now, I was surprised by how quickly I accepted this as fact. It was like “aww man…i gotta a ghost now? Ughhh”. Kinda like how one might react to finding out they have allergies.

I started to think about this ghost.
First off, who the fuck is he/she? How long has he/she been here? Why here? I’m pretty sure ghosts don’t only exist where they die…but I’ve never heard of someone dying in my apartments history. I could be wrong but still..if that’s the case, this ghost BEEN chilling for a minute. He/she has seen some shit. Then I started thinking about how boring the life of a regular ghost must be. Like, if ghosts like this are real…do you realize they spend all day watching people look at their computers, watch tv and masturbating? Like…this ghost has seen me jerk off sooooo much. Sure, occasionally he/she gets lucky and sees a little sex show but still…I wonder if he/she watches or just kinda throws his/her ghost hands in the air and floats out the room in disgust, the second I take out some coconut oil.
Being a ghost sounds boring as fuck. Beyond that…it seems like a person who is forced to watch a tv show they may or may not have interest in. My life isn’t exciting. I work on computers. I chill hard. It’s very low on drama. Perhaps, by knocking over my chachkis, the ghost was telling me “Hey dude, I’m dying over here (lol, get it?), step up the entertainment!”. Who knows? For all I know, this ghost could be from the 1800’s and just be so fucking confused by literally every facet of my life. Like he/she could look at something as simple as my microwave and just be like “I don’t get it!!!!!”, let alone a man pleasuring himself to internet porn.

So, yeah…I might be haunted. The other possibility is that I have a rat loose in my crib but I’m refusing to believe that cause I don’t wanna have to move. I really hope it’s just a ghost. Ain’t nobody got time for rats. Fuck all that noise. Ghosts>rats

WhenGhostsGetBored

Notes From the Road: March/April 2016

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I used to write these more frequently. Probably cause , when I’d tour I’m be surprised by something or weird things would happen on occasion. Well, that hasn’t been the case the last few times i’ve hit the road. The Song remains the same. Airports are still airports. The lifestyle of “drive/fly, hotel, soundcheck, eat, wait, play show, back to the hotel, sleep, repeat” is pretty much the gold standard for my touring life. It’s not glamorous. It’s lazy and , somehow, exhausting. I’m not complaining, of course. It’s always fun performing for fans, meeting the people from all over who have been effected by your music. That’s the good part. It’s certainly better than having a real job. I think , all I’m saying is, my lack of “notes from the road” write ups has more to do with the monotony of the lifestyle. It doesn’t help that I barely drink when I tour and I don’t party at all cause sleep is so much more crucial. All that said, I was reflecting on a recent tour I was on with Eliot Lipp (We’re hitting the west coast for 4 dates in early may , btw. Check http://blockheadmusic.com/ for more info) and a few interesting stories…And they both take place in the south. My apologies if anyone involved in these stories read this and feel slighted but, you know what? You’re were fucked up and out of line so perhaps you earned this one. No names were spoken…cause i don’t know your name. So, hey, it’s all good.

The first story takes place in Lexington, Kentucky.
I had never played there before. It was a tuesday night so , in all honesty, expectations were low. Not cause of lexington but cause of the day of the week. Well, around 9 pm, I pop out to man the Merch booth (I work my own merch cause it’s more fun than sitting alone backstage and, also, it helps sell stuff better). Sitting there, watching the early crowd I notice that this crowd is unusually drunk. It’s 9pm…on a tuesday , yet, it feels like mardi gras in this bitch. I have casual chats with a few people. The typical “Hey, man, you know where the coat check is?” interaction comes cause people don’t know what I look like and need to check their coats. But, I’m also chatting with fans, taking pics, signing stuff. Business as usual. Eliot Lipp goes on and he’s doing his thing. during the middle of his set, an older women walks up to the merch table. She’s probably in her early 50’s. Not your typical Blockhead/eliot Lipp fan. Within moments , i can see she is very drunk. Wasted. All kinda of fucked up. She’s also got a somewhat unhappy look on her face. “I need your help!” huh? She proceeds to tell me about her son. He’s 17 or 18. He’s a budding musician who plays many instruments and lives in her basement. “I want you to talk to my son!” So many questions are racing though my mind. WHo? Why? Where? When?
Before I can ask one, she swivels her head towards the stage, points at Eliot and says “He can do this!”. She pauses…” I mean…I know he can do that!!!”
Okay.
So I ask “Well, is he here?”
“Noooooo! He’s at home but I need you to talk to him!”
“But….why?”
“He needs someone to tell him how to do this! He’s so talented but he needs guidance!”
Bear in mind, this is all said in the form of screams and in a the form of an argument. She seemed livid by the whole interaction. I calmly replied “Well…here’s the thing…if he’s not here, I can’t talk to him”
“No, give me your number and you will call him!”
“I’m not doing that…besides…I’m not one to teach anyone anything. What kinda music does he even make?”
“He makes shit like Sparklehorse but I want him to do this kinda music (pointing at Eliot once again)”
I had no idea who Sparklehorse was but, later when I looked it up it became clear that this woman just losing her mind in thinking , even though her son does one thing, he should focus elsewhere. She kept coming after me about “helping” him, Like i’m some sort or successful record label A&R man and all I could tell her was “Hey, you just gotta support what he does. Keep having his back…but a talk with me? That’s not gonna help anything…” this conversation kept devolving until she was pretty much ice grilling me from across the merch table. Furious. She slammed her fists down on the table and walked away as if I told her we didn’t accept food stamps. As she walked away, I just sat there, somewhat befuddled by what had gone on. Did i really just get yelled at by a mom at my own show? Like…it didn’t even make sense. Her rage, the fact her son makes an entirely different genre of music and plays instruments and she was talking to me like I was fucking Quincy Jones with the key to the secrets of success. Had she forgotten I was playing in Lexington on a tuesday? Who knows. Anyway, I let it go and it was now my turn to play. I was doing my set per usual. At one point, I look down towards stage left and see this woman, leaning over the barricade…motionless…staring a hole in my head. The only way I can describe the look on her face was that of the evil old woman from the Goonies. There was just…visible disdain shooting right at me. I just kind of ignored it and kept going. A little while later, I check down, and she’s now seemingly fallen over the barricade. It’s possible she walked around it and then fell down…but…I dunno. That’s a whole lot of work. Someone in the crowd noticed and the security picked her up off the ground and carried her away. I later heard, she had driven there and the people from the venue , wisely, wouldn’t let her drive her car. After all, she was as drunk a 14 year old girl. I guess she put up a stink about it and was eventually arrested.
The next day, i receive this message in my facebook music page inbox
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The punch she’s referring to is one she exchanged with my tour manager…who she thought was me before she even met me. Clearly, it was black out city after that. I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t even remember the merch booth exchange.
I think the moral of this story is this…Don’t pre game too hard. If it’s 9 pm and you’re already sloppy, you’re night is as good as over. Also, be good to your children. support them in their art. And if their art doesn’t happen to be the kind of art you want them to do? Tough break. It’s not all about you. Let them breath and find their own direction.

Okay, so the second story is more an explanation…
When i saw the tour dates of where I was playing, I was happy to see Atlanta on the list. I love Atlanta. I have great shows there. The people are great and it’s just a fun city in general. The club I was playing, Iris, was not a familiar name to me. I figured, hell, what do you I know. I’m not from ATL so it’s probably fine. The first day of promoting shows , I start getting an immediate influx of “Why are you playing at the Iris!?!?” from people on facebook. I’ve literally never seen such a negative response to a venue before. In my mind, how bad could it be? It’s got good sound and place for people to stand? Seems like that should be enough. I went back at forth with some of the complainers trying to explain that but, the more i did that, the more other people would add on “nah, man…it’s really the worst…”.
So, what would normally be a highlight show for any tour down south was now under the black cloud of doubt. It didn’t help when I saw how it was being promoted. It was a rave, basically. They spoke of giveaways, bottle service and “the iris dancers”. To be clear, all this is fine and dandy. It’s just soooooo not the scene I’m in. I make hip hop beats with weird samples and limited 808’s. No triplets. Not bass drops. It’s just not my style. So, this only made me more anxious heading into ATl.
We finally get there and I see exactly what I’m dealing with. It’s a club. Like a straight up club. I got thoroughly frisked walking in…DURING SOUNDCHECK. Literally the first time that’s ever happened. The dj booth was on an extremely high , multi tiered stage (which was cool for me cause I didn’t wanna be stuck on the floor level in a literal booth). Everyone who worked there was nice. The promoters were nice. Honestly, as much as the room felt “wrong” , part of me was relieved that maybe this wouldn’t be that bad cause all the involved parties were seemingly into what was going on.
WHELP….nah.
When I got on, this dude was just playing a set of some heavier bass music. The room was pretty packed and very excited. I look down into the crowd and see a sea of young ravers…there’s all sorts of raver balloons and glow sticks being handed out to the crowd. That’s odd. I get on, take the mic and greet the crowd. Typically , if I’m headlining a show, when I do this, I am met with some sort of reaction. After all, People are there to see me, right? On this night…I’m met with a quiet murmur. Okey dokey. SO, I start my set. Within moments I see the floor start to clear. There were two other room of music going on. I can only assume they were the correct kinds of music for such a venue cause that’s where everyone went. Looking into the crowd, there were some people into it. People who knew my music. But, for the most part, it was confusion. About 15 minutes into my see, I see a bunch of girls on the side of the stage. I assume these are the “Iris girls”. From what i can gather, they are hired to dance there, dressed in lingerie. Umm…okay. So they saunter out on stage and start attempting to dance to my set. Here’s the thing…I don’t think they know how to dance to something in the 95-100 beat per minute range. They looked noticeably uncomfortable. The stuck it out for a song or two then retreated, exchanging looks of “wtf is this shit?!!?”. It was fine with me cause, honestly, scantily clad dancing women and my live set don’t make much sense. I’d be better off with a crew of break dancing midgets. My set continues on and the crowd is thinning even more. All I can think about it “Man…I’m in ATL and this is the show I’m playing…” and it’s bumming me out. At some point, the Iris girls come out again but this time they have bags of balloons. The throw them into the crowd and the crowd seems to love it. In fact,the love it so much, they just start loudly popping the balloons at a rapid rate. So that sounded cool. Much like the firecracker scene in “Boogie nights”.
The peak moment during my set soon followed. I looked down at the front of the stage and I caught a glimpse of this one girl. She was literally sitting there frowning with her arms crossed. Like…who took your teddy bear?
I guess at some point, this inner rage boiled to the surface and she felt it was time to take things into her own own hands. I’m actually happy I got to see this all happen as it unfolded. I saw her, barrel roll onto the first tier of the stage (it was about 4 feet off the ground) and, like a zombie in world war z, jump into action, climbing a second tier on the stage to get to my level. She had a look on her face. It was just pure anger.She got up to where I was, ran around the booth and I felt a firm tap on my shoulder. I turned and saw her eyes shooting death into mine but before she could get out a word, the bouncers grappled her up and dragged her ass off stage. It was nuts. So much fury, in the name of bass.
My set finished in like 10 more minutes and went out with a whimper. I said thank you to the crowd and the response might as well have been me asking if any one has seen a blue nissan parked in a tow away zone.
As i walked of stage, i was bummed. It was a waste of a chance to play in ATL. I ran into the sound guy and he was very kind about it. “Man, i like what you did up there but I have no idea why you played this place”. I agreed. He went on to tell me that, typically, no matter who’s playing that main room, it’s packed to the gills. So, I basically did the impossible and cleared the room of people who are not discerning at all. I then ran into one of the promoters and kinda was like “ooof…that was rough…” He was understanding and explained they were trying to do something new and perhaps open me up to a different fan base via this crowd. Cross branding. Which, in theory, isn’t a bad idea. I mean, shit, If I can come away with 5 new fans from that crowd the next time I do a show down there…that’s not a bad thing. But, still…it felt like a waste. I don’t play that area much and, when I do, I wanna do it for the people who actually wanna see me. Not a bunch of 20 year old ravers who only wanna hear bass drops for 4 hours. But, hey, i got paid so I can’t really complain.
But, yeah…ATL…Hopefully I’ll be back in the right place next time. I look forward to seeing you guys.

That’s all I got. i had a great time otherwise and I can’t wait to hit the west coast with Lipp. You guys never disappoint. See y’all soon!

Answers for Questions vol. 239

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Hi Everyone! Welcome to another edition of “Answers for questions”. You ask, i answer. Wanna be a part of the magic? Well, it’s as simple and thinking of a question and asking me. Do that first part, type it and send it to me via email (phatfriendblog@gmail.com) or leave it in the comment section below. Ask anything you want. all i ask of you is to try and make it interesting. Get creative. Okay? Great. Can’t wait to hear from you.

Where was the sketchiest place you’ve ever done drugs?
I’ve never really been one to do hard drugs in sketchy places (or at all ,really). When I’ve done molly or shrooms, it’s been in safe environments. Does smoking weed count? Cause I’ve definitely smoked weed in some unsavory places. Creepy apartments in the hood, run down shacks in the burbs. Those kinda places.
In general, when I think of being the least comfortable getting fucked up I always think back to this random house party I went to in high school. Some girl from my school had a place in long island and invited us city kids to come party. I had assumed it was some fancy mansion type shit. We get there and it looked like a juggalo’s asshole. A fucked up little house with a lawn that looked like it had been burned. Out back there was a pool with brown water in it filled with years of discarded beer bottles. Her friends were all local scum bags doing weird drugs I had never seen before. The kind you get a super markets that aren’t meant to be drugs. I was just drinking 40’s like a civilized man. At one point, i was on some filthy couch with a friend and some random townie. He was smoking something that wasn’t weed. He proceeded to go on a long rant about how blacks and jews are taking over, casually dropping N-bombs like it’s nothing. It was literally the first time I had been around a truly , out the box racist. Shit blew my mind. My friend and I (both partial jews) just nodded and crept away when his high kicked in enough to not notice us. That was a shady night for sure. Half cause of the whole scene but also cause it was in the middle of nowhere and I would have no idea how to get home had I not had a ride.

I’m sure this has been covered before, but which rappers/producers do you think have the best twitters, instagrams, etc.?

Let’s be honest, musicians (ESPECIALLY rappers) are awful at social networks. Instagram is a little easier but twitter? Goddamn…Thank god for the “mute” button.
That said, there are some people who do a great job.
My man Elaquent’s instagram is mad funny. El-P has a good instagram. Rob Sonic is always good on both twitter and instagram. Open mike Eagle has a good twitter.
You know, looking at it now, it’s not that rappers/producers have a bad social network presence (I’m sure there are plenty of people who feel that way about me, btw) it’s just they post shit that doesn’t interest me. I’m sure their fans are into it. But things like pics with their friends I don’t know, food, tour buses, and their pets? Eh, I’m good on that.


If you had to be in a group like franky valley and the 4 seasons, which guy would you be?
Tiny super high pitched front man?
Low key super deep voice dude?
One of the mid range guys?
Why?

Hmm…that’s tough. It depends if we’re talking about my actual singing capabilities or if this is more about personality. I’d say, singing wise, I’d probably be a mid range guy but I can kinda hit some of those high notes when I sing from my throat. But , if you mean in a more metaphorical sense, I’d be the low voice guy. Kinda in the background but ,at the same time, holding it all together.

When does rap with rock influences cross into rap rock? Or is there a line at all?

Like when does it work? Rarely. I think the only time it works is when it’s done naturally. Also, all parties involved have to have an intimate understanding of what makes good rap music and what makes good rock music. The problem with the mixing of those two styles is that you got one rock guy and one rap guy. Neither really understand the other genre with any real depth so they’re taking the other persons word for it. There’s no middle ground for someone to be like “But wait, that’s corny!”. I’ve long said that the meshing of rap and rock has sucked since run dmc/aerosmith. There have been a few exceptions where people were able to find a really nice happy medium. Honestly, it works best when the rock dudes understand rap. Then they can kinda get in the pocket and adhere their styles to what the rappers do. Cause when rappers try to “rock out” it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone involved.

Where do you see yourself in 20 years?
let’s see…I’ll be a few years from 60.
I have no idea. I imagine I’ll have a kid or two. I also imagine I will not be touring or making rap beats anymore. Man…20 years from now is a scary prospect. So, I’mma go with “I’ll be a person who died in the great manhattan consuming tidal wave of 2032”. That’s an easy answer but as likely as any other bullshit I’ll come up with now.

In high school did you ever skip class, vandalize, or cause ruckus?
I was not that kind of kid. I mean, I did dumb shit but never on a major level. I didn’t get in fights or fuck up school property (outside of drawing on desks).Although I did possibly assist in throwing an entire desk out of a 3 story window. I can’t confirm or deny that though.
I don’t think I even skipped classes, which is funny cause I was someone who didn’t give a shit about school. But I was also someone who didn’t really think outside the box like that. Skipping class had consequences (being in school more) so I figured why bother?
What i did do was get kicked out of class all the time. I was somewhat of a class clown/wise ass and would get thrown out of class on a fairly regular basis for saying dumb shit. It was always in the context of the class though. Like, in 8th grade, I had this unmarried orthodox jewish guy teaching us sex ed. I didn’t know much back then but I was pretty sure he was a virgin. so, I thought it was funny that he was teaching us about sex. I once asked him ” But…What does sex feel like?” and he got furious and bounced me outta class. After that, I made it my mission to ask him uncomfortable questions about sex. He eventually kinda gave up on scolding me and just told me to shut up every time I had a question. It felt like a personal victory.

My woes about Drakes woes.

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This is a pointless little story but I figure I’d share it cause it’s friday and who cares?
Man, being old and out of touch sucks. Especially when you actually do make a tiny effort to stay somewhat in the loop. Even when you do that, there’s always going to be something that flies over your head. Where slang is concerned, I generally don’t follow it but I can figure out what it means. Words like “Fleek” or “Thot” come around and all you need to do is hear them in a certain context and you get it. You’d be a fool to use them in real life but, still, you can at least understand them. Other terms,however, are not as simple.

Case in point, this Drake song “Know yourself“. Admittedly, I’ve been running some tracks off the new Drake mixtape. Judge me with all the rap snobbery you got but, you know what? I’m old, very likely know more about rap than you and I can like what I want to like so blow me. Still, while I do tip my hat to drake a little I also think he’s fairly ridiculous. But that’s neither here nor there. This is about a line in a drake song.

So, in this song, there’s a break in the middle (Go to 1:31 in the above video to hear it) and he goes into exclaiming “I was runnin’ through the 6 with my woes!”. it’s the pinnacle of the song. Every rap listening teen knows that part. There have been gifs, vines and everything. Now, I know “The 6” is toronto. That I know! But, when I heard this line I was kinda fascinated. Like “What a fucking weird thing to say!”. I imagined Drake, walking around Toronto , with his hood up just thinking about his life issues AKA his woes. I thought he might be on some Aceyalone shit. I mean, let’s be real, Drake is nothing if not an emo dude. It would make sense for him to pace around Toronto with a lot on his mind. He’s definitely a cryer. I dunno…the whole thing just seemed like a strange, bold and interesting choice of words for him to use. Add on that it’s followed by him saying “You know how that shit go” and it seemed like the sentiment was real. Yes, drake. i do know how that shit go. I’ve had a lot on my mind and walked around the city , trying to make sense of it all. What a relatable sentiment, Aubrey. I was even in Toronto a few weeks back and that song was in my head like crazy. I was walking around Toronto singing it to myself. It was somewhat embarrassing, now that I look back at it but , hey, music does what it does.

Flash forward to me at the YMCA this past monday. I play ball there a few times a week and it’s filled with a wide variety of people. One major type is teenagers. (Unrelated but, holy shit, teenagers are the fucking worst). So, I’m shooting around with some people before a game and one of the kids starts rapping that verse from “Know yourself” in it’s entirety. Other chime in. a few grown men even get in on the action as well. I say “Man, it’s crazy how drake made an anthem about being sad”. The kid that started the sing along looks at me and says “Huh?” and I say “yeah, like he’s got you all singing about how he runs around his city crying and shit…” this was met with patronizing laughter and the kid explaining to me that his “woes” are his boys. Most likely a shortening of the southern term Whodies. Well, fuck me. I felt 200 years old. What a let down. i won’t lie, it’s made me like the song less. I much prefer the idea of drake and his actual woes over the visual of drake and his corny friends going clubbing. Goddamn it. Oh well, this whole topic got me running through my social network timelines with my actual woes. But you know how that shit go.

Answers for questions vol. 236

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Hi there. Welcome to answers for questions. You guys send my questions about any and all things, and I give you my take on them. Why? Cause why not. If you have anything you wanna ask, email that question to me at phatfriendblog@gmail.com or simply leave the question(s) in the comment section below.
Also, wanna give a strong shout out to the people who came out to my shows this weekend in texas and Abq. I had a great time. Check me this week in Brooklyn, cambridge and burlington. ore info here: http://blockheadmusic.com/
Anyway, let’s get into this weeks batch…

Do you have any bad memories from your life that physically pain you? Like when you think about them they just make you cringe?

I’m thinking physical pain here not mental anguish. The ones that make me cringe years later are all physical.
I got two that come mind. One was when I was around 22. I was playing basketball at the park and I went up for rebound. I used to jump pretty high back then so I was fairly high off the ground. I can clearly recall my brain saying “Your ankles are pretty loose right now” as I came down and , for some reason, I landed directly on the side of my right foot. Of course, it folded over and turned. I heard all sorts of pops and collapsed to the ground. I had twisted my ankle many times at that point but this was next level. I was curled up on the concrete for like 5 minutes. Turns out I tore three ligaments and I was injured for about 9 months or so. That shit sucked.
The other thing I recall is more visual. I was maybe 8 or 9 and at some summer party with my parents. There was a huge backyard there and I was running around like a little asshole. I guess I wasn’t paying attention (as little assholes tend to not do) and I ran into this rod that was sticking out of the ground. it dug into my shin and pretty much cut me to the bone. It was weird though cause I didn’t slice me. It jammed in, pushed my skin back and just exposed nothing but white. It wasn’t even bleeding that much. Also, I could push the skin back down and you would barely notice it.To this day I have a scar from it but it was the weirdest injury I’ve ever had.

Have you ever (while travelling) been so way beyond tired that you feel as though you’re about to start crying?

I’ve been close. Pretty much every time I go to europe there is a day or two where I pull an insane all nighter. This one time , I played a show in northern poland at this film festival. I flew in, arrived in poland at 8 am (1 am EST). I was supposed to be picked up then but our ride was like 1 or 2 hours late. When he finally comes, I find out we have to drive another 3 hours north to where the festival was. We do that, and I’m awake the whole time. Partially cause I can’t sleep on moving things and also cause this dude was driving like a psychopath. It was truly terrifying. So, we finally get to where we need to be and it’s like 1pm (9 am EST) and I think I’m gonna get to sleep now. Thing is, I thought we had a day off before the performance. Turned out, it was actually in about 5 hours. My friend, who I was traveling with, got to go to bed but I had to stay up and do sound check and pretty much had no chance to even lay down until after the show (that ended around 11 pm). So I just stayed up. By the time it was time for the show, I was feeling like my heart may stop. I did the set, almost fainting couple times during from pure exhaustion. At the end of that whole thing, I had been awake for about 48 hours in a row. There’s also that thing that , when you’ve been up for that long, it’s actually hard to fall alseep. Your body is so haywire it can’t settle down. It was awful. That kinda thing has happened to me a few times and always in europe. I’ve never cried cause of it but I definitely have though I might die or go crazy. Travel is a motherfucker.

regarding a comment you made in answers for questions vol. 232, why boycott all 7-11s in NYC? are they all that different from the Duane Reades?

That’s easy. Daune reade’s are a new york thing. They’re from the tribeca street names Duane and reade. While there are way too many of them, they’re still something that was birthed here.
7-11 , however, is some suburban shit. We didn’t have them here until about 5 years ago and we were doing fine. we have bodegas. Those are our 7-11’s. They’re all privately ran and they all are a little different. Sure, some bodegas suck but they serve a purpose. Corner stores open 24/7. That’s a very specific NYC thing.
Aside from being something we didn’t need, 7-11 signifies what’s going wrong with nyc right now. It’s as if they’re bringing in these suburbia based chains (denny’s, house of pancakes, dairy queen, etc…) just to make tourists and transplants comfortable. By doing that, they’re making this city like every other town in the US. NYC has never needed that stuff. We have good food here. Diners, pizza spots, and anything you can imagine that’s available 24 hours a day. We have perfectly fine corner stores all over. All this does is make it harder for those places to survive. I wouldn’t mind a while back cause those places didn’t thrive here always. A dunkin donuts opened up down the block from this place called “The donut pub” on 14th street. The donut pub is an institution that has been here forever. Dunkin’ donuts was clearly trying to take over. Well, fuck them cause it didn’t work. They shut down about 2 years later cause no one fucked with them. They all went to the donut pub. With 7-11, that’s not happening. Dumb motherfuckers are going there instead of the local bodegas that have been around forever. It’s a real telling sign of what’s going on right now in NYC and it’s not good.

What’s the coolest thing you can do for free?
Hmm…like in what respect? As a tourist? As a basic human?
Have sex. Play basketball. Go to the park. Murder a drifter. Any of those things are free and really really cool.

Have you seen that De La Soul is currently using kickstarter to fund their new “self-sampled” album? Do you have any thoughts about this?
Nope. Can’t say I’m too up to date on kickstarter or what rappers are using it. Self sampled? what does that even mean? Like they’re sampling their own music? That makes no sense and , on top of that, sounds really shitty. Also, why would you need a kickstarter to sample yourself? I could easily google this and get the correct info but, alas, I care that little so I’ll just stay right here, assuming shit until told otherwise. Also, the whole “help me raise money for my album!” shit on kickstarter is corny. Albums aren’t THAT expensive to make. Especially rap/electronic type of music. De la has been around for decades. I’m sure they can afford it.

How many sexual partners is too much for a women to be a long term girlfriend?

I think if, as a man, you’re so concerned with the number of sexual partners a girl has had, you better apply that same code to your own life. Men care way too much about how much a girl has fucked before they fucked them. Who gives a shit? It’s not like it’s really gonna make her vagina loose. If anything, she’s probably better at sex because of it. What happened before you has nothing to do with you. Stop being insecure pussies and worrying about peoples pasts. Unless all her sexual partners happen to be close friends of yours, it shouldn’t matter. I’m more weirded out by a 30 year old girl who only had sex with 2 guys than a 25 year old who’s fucked 50. So, to answer your question, 1 sexual partner is too much. Real men only date virgins and settle for nothing else. Also, if you flap your arms hard enough, you can fly. I swear to the lord almighty above.

If you to choose one beer to drink for the rest of your life what would it be?

Guinness cause it’s the only beer I like. I don’t drink beer. It’s filling and , in general, I don’t love the taste. I used to drink 40’s in my youth but, once I could afford liquor, that was my drink of choice. I never went back. Nowadays, I’ll only drink beer if I feel like a Guinness or if there is literally nothing else available. Also, I’ll sometimes have a beer at the end of a long night of drinking cause I know that another liquor drink will put me too far over the edge. But, even when I do that, I’m drinking whatever is the most watered down pissy beer the bar has.
So, yeah, not a beer guy.

Answers for Questions vol. 235

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G’day everyone. Welcome to “Answers for questions”. You ask, I do my best to answer. If you’d like to ask me anything…go nuts. Email me questions to: phatfriendblog@gmail.com or leave them in the comment section below. Get creative. The better the question, the better the answer. Let’s gooooooo…

How old were you when you went to your first bar?


Good question.
I remember this very clearly. Back in the early 90’s, the NYC bar scene (at least downtown) was like the wild wild west. No one got carded. No one cared. This was pre-guiliani. So, the first time I went to a bar was new years eve, a couple months after turning 15. To be clear, I had drank a fair amount before that (house parties and 40’s from the bodega) but we never tried actually going to bars until that night. My two friends and I had nothing to do so we figured it would be fun to try out. Here’s the thing, I looked a little older. Mainly cause I was a tall kid. I was already 6 feet tall at this point. My face looked like a baby though. One of my other friends was similar to me. Tall but with a young face.The third friend, however, was the dead giveaway. He was shorter, chubby and had MASSIVE braces. Like you could see them from the moon. He was also the most outgoing of the three of us so it made for a funny situation.
I don’t know how we decided on what bar but we landed at this place called Mars bar. Little did we know, this was an nyc institution. It’s was a punk/biker bar we had walked by a million times. I suppose we chose it cause it looked like a dump and we figured we had a better chance of getting served at a shithole than somewhere kinda nice. We were right.
We go in and it’s full of adults. Obviously…it’s a bar. I can’t begin to fathom what people in there must have thought. We were clearly three children, dressed like 15 year olds in 1991, ordering drinks like “gin gimlet” or “margarita” cause we had no fucking idea what we were doing. There is a certain type of nervousness that went with ordering drinks at a bar as an underage person that is it’s very own thing. It’s as if you’re just waiting for someone to pull back the curtain at all times. I can’t imagine how timidly I must have ordered my drink but I’d be shocked if it wasn’t whispered. My brace faced buddy though? He was in there chatting up the bartender and ordering like it was owed to him.

Another thing I should add is that, we went SUPER early. It was new years eve and we must have gotten in there around 8 pm. Add on that were were novices with the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel and it was a short night. There was a window of fun in there though. My brace faced friend was hitting on every girl in there and that was hilarious. Watching a chubby, brace wearing dork with a fucking Jim Morrison shirt on trying to bag a 27 year old gutter punk girl ,with green hair and cloths pins in her eye brow ,was the best. He was on fire that night…until he wasn’t…around 10 or 10:30 we had had our fill and were way too drunk. We walked outside and my friend with the braces began to vomit violently between two cars. The rest of us weren’t feeling too hot either. We dumped out barfy bud off at his house and my friend crashed at my place. We both also eventually barfed and passed out before midnight. I distinctly recall the sounds of celebration coming from the streets outside my window , as the room was spinning while my eyes were shut.
Lessons were learned. The next day was my first hangover.
Years later I would go back to that bar as a legal drinker and it always bugged me out how small it was. It felt huge that first night. Sadly, it closed a few years back and is now a bank or a duane reade. 😦

It dawned on me while listening to Eric Sermon’s verse on Housing Things that there are quite a bit of classic rappers that were successful despite their speech impediments. Off the top I’d put the RZA at the top of the list.

What are some of your favorite lispy rappers or rap moments?

Well, Kool G rap is probably my all time favorite rapper so that’s one right there. Lil Fame from M.O.P. is another one. Phantasm from the Cella Dwellers.
Sermon and Rza are in there as well.
You don’t really see rappers with speech impediments anymore. It’s kinda similar to how, back in the 70’s a pop singer could be terrible looking as long as the talent was there but , now, that kinda thing is very rare. I highly doubt speech impediments have stopped existing so I gotta think that no one in the current era is giving those guys a chance. It’s too bad too cause , as with all the dudes listed above, it can work nicely. Unless the got a stutter. Sadly, i can’t see rap ever embracing a real deal stutter.

Do you ever sing in the shower? How’s your singing voice in general?

Not with any regularity but I have done it in my life. If I have a certain song trapped in my head and need to exorcise those demons, singing in the shower often helps.
My singing voice is decent. I can hold a tune, harmonize and I’m decent at mimic-ing other people voices. That said, I’ve got one of those voices that is not good or bad enough to work in any real context. Like, even in something like Karaoke. I’m that weird middle ground where I won’t be funny cause I suck and I won’t be impressive cause I can really sing. I’ll just be the guy who can kinda sing okay. I sang a good amount on the Party Fun action committee album and on Aesop’s song “Cook it up“. You find my vocal stylings on those if you really want to feel the full impact.

why do you think Aes is seemingly only getting better (and more popular)? like what quality of him as a person forces his (other than 08-10) consistent and ever-evolving delivery?

i mean his rhymes and beats have both gone from ‘this dude is really good’ to ‘this dude is one of the best’; few people have it in them to actually ‘progress’ as artists to the degree that he has.

HOW DOES HE DO IT!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

I’d say cause he works really hard and won’t allow himself to be half assed. He is easily the most focused artist I’ve ever seen and his work ethic is epic. I think a lot of artists who have been making music and locked down their fan bases get comfortable. Aes has never been like that. He always wants to improve and even move outside his own comfort zone.
It’s funny to me when I meet fans at shows who say shit like “Man, you guys need to remake float!” cause he’s SOOOOO much better now. I realize people have this emotional connection to his older stuff (and my older stuff, for that matter) but, if you step back he’s so much better now than he was then. It’s not even close.

I turn 26 this year and thus will no longer be under my parent’s health or dental insurance. Gross teeth scare the shit out of me so I’m afraid of not being able to afford to go to the dentist. I’ve graduated college but am still looking for that full time job with benefits I’ve heard rumors about existing. So this begs the questions: How do you rank your teeth? Perfect straight and white? False? Somewhere in between? Do you go to the dentist? How do you do health and dental hygiene things? What is your insurance situation?

My teeth are cool. I never had braces. I didn’t have a cavity until I was in my mid 30’s. I got lucky. Admittedly, I don’t go to the dentist very often. I went maybe 3 years ago. My health insurance doesn’t cover it so I’d probably only go if I felt I had an issue. As far as I can tell, I’m all good right now. I try and take care of my teeth and my history of healthy teeth definitely gives me some comfort.
Outside of that, I do have health insurance that I pay way too much money for. My doctor is kind of a shit head (he gave my antibiotics for something that was clearly an allergy related sickness) but , on the bright side, he’s very available and , anytime I feel sick or hurt myself, I can walk over to the office five blocks away and get checked up on relatively fast. So that’s nice.

Have you checked out: ‘Fuck, That’s Delicious?’. How do you feel about a rapper commentating about food? I love many if these episodes, but I work in the food industry. How does the other-side of the coin feel about these cross-overs? I know you’ve been asked foodie questions before, but I would like your insight.
I have and I love it. Bronson is a hilarious and entertaining dude. I can’t imagine any rap people taking issue with him doing that show. I mean, the dude was a cook. That alone makes it perfectly logical. To me, it’s no different than Anthony Bourdain or Andrew Zimmern. I love those kinda shows so, to me, it was a no brainer. I think they should give more rappers food related shows. Like take some closed minded (food wise) rapper who only eats fast food and make him eat some high end cuisine. That would be awesome.

What’s your favorite time of day?

Depends on the day. I’m somewhat of a night owl but I’m also not someone who does much at night. I basically loaf around. But, to me , my favorite part of a day would be when I play basketball or eat a good meal. in general though, I don’t get too specific with that kinda thing. It should also be noted that my days can easily just kinda blend together. I don’t do much some days so the difference between 11 am and 6 pm in minimal.