FAVORITE CONCERTS 2009

I probably attended less live music performances this year than I have in many years. That's primarily due to two factors: 1) the economy and 2) I've been performing myself at open mics and colleges at least every other weekend. Nevertheless I did manage to attend quite a few outstanding shows, the most musically exciting and emotionally ecstatic are listed below:

Lesley Gore, Yoshi's SF
Lily Allen, Warfield
Lesley Gore, Feinstein's, NYC
Deadlee, Project Artaud
Dwele, Yoshi's Oakland
This Time Next Year, Blake's Berkeley
Solange Knowles, Alameda County Fair, Pleasanton
Maxwell/Common/Chrisette Michele, Concord Pavilion
Dorian Wood, Homo A Go Go, SF
Pet Shop Boys, Warfield
Nellie McKay, Yoshi's SF
This Time Next Year, Bottom of the Hill, SF
Ashford and Simpson, RRazz Room

Also enjoyed Petula Clark; Tim'm West; Jeremy Gloff; Jack Jones

FAVORITE RECORDS 2009

2009 was one of the best years ever for music and it was easy to make a list of my favorite records. The only problem is that the list is so long! There are a couple of surprises, namely my favorite record of 2009, because it didn't even come out this year but a couple of years back. Those who follow my blog and facebook and twitter postings already know...my favorite record of 2009, hands down is (drumroll, pop ingenue opens the envelope):

DEADLEE - ASSAULT WITH A DEALEE WEAPON

Not only is "Assault" one of the finest, most ferocious and committed rap records of all time, it had a huge impact on me personally and on my music. When my next record is released in fall 2010, just how influential Deadlee has been in my new sound will be apparent...and look for a collaboration with Deadlee on that project, too!

THE REST OF THE LIST;

Ashanti, From the Vaults (Japan only release, rare & unreleased and better than all her domestic CDs combined)
The Bird and the Bee, Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future
Bry'NT, Porn Star II: The Director's Cut
Chris Brown, Graffiti
Chris Cornell, Scream
Common, Universal Mind Control
Drake, So Far Gone
Drew Mason, Paradigm Shift
Duffy, Rockferry bonus tracks
Dwele, Sketches of a Man
Jay-Z, Blueprint 3
Lily Allen, It's Not Me, It's You
Mariah Carey, Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel (career best)
Maxwell, BLACK Summers Night
Musiq Soulchild, OnMyRadio
Pet Shop Boys, Yes (official & bonus remix discs)
Q-Tip, Kamaal the Abstract
Ryan Leslie, Transition (underrated, overlooked, off the chain)
Salvimex, Uniendo Fuerzas (also came out a couple years back, this one is made to blast out of your car speakers)
This Time Next Year, Road Maps and Heart Attacks
Tori Fixx, Fixxology

Also loved these 2009 releases by Amerie, Gossip, Lady Gaga and Ting Tings

Already getting into the brand new records by Mary J Blige, Timbland, Annie, Alicia Keys, Clipse, Trina's Mixtape with DJ Pain1, Lil Wayne and Robin Thicke

Advance Warning: Tori Fixx "RE-Fixxology" will set your pants on fire!

Drew Mason: The Music's In His Soul

It's not often that a relatively new, unknown young artist comes out of nowhere and makes an album so fresh, so competitive that it literally blows the top rap glitterati out of the water, but that is the case with Drew Mason and his new recording, "The Paradigm Shift." From the opening rap dancehall stomper, "Get It On" to the closing anthemic "This Music's In My Soul," Mason delivers what is no doubt the best out hiphop recording of 2009 and a very strong contender for finest rap album of the year.

Mason honed his skillz as a youngster in military school and at Madison Media Insitute in Wisconsin and released two solo rap albums as "Lil" Drew Mason, notably "Trials and Tribulations" in 2005. Relocating to San Diego to intern at Capricorn Studios, he did more than learn recording techniques while there: he came to terms with his sexuality and recognized that if he was to continue rapping authentically and honestly, he would have to make a crucial decision. Whether to come out as a gay man and rap about his experiences, or stay in the closet like so many of his peers, possibly garnering hits but not being true to himself. Mason chose to reinvent himself as an out and proud gay rap artist. As he states several times on this project, notably on the rousing, uplifting "Preach:" "I'm a gay white rapper and the next Tupac." No equivocation, no apology, he's way past that. He is telling his truth and illuminating the interior lives of his listeners.

"The Paradigm Shift" is chockfull of should-be hits, from the passionate, implacable "In A World All Alone" to a surprisingly spiritual "Unity," and tells the story of his journey from closeted rap hopeful to California based out hip hop rap star in jams like "Flippin It Poetic," the irresistible "G-R-I-N-D" (I defy you to listen to it and not have it on repeat in your mind all day long), and "Big Up to Cali." "No More Mister Nice Guy" opens with gay rap superstar Deadlee serving notice that "this faggot's off his leash" and he is not kidding, y'all! Don't look for us to be yo bff or fit into whatever slot is comfortable for you - this ain't no Will and Grace shit! And then there's "This Music's In My Soul" which closes the album on a note of unity and celebration, and has an awesome companion animated video that is airing on LOGO now.

Production from the superb DJ Pain amongst others is off the Richter from start to finish, and "Paradigm Shift" is on bump from beginning to end. It can't have been an easy transition from Lil Drew to out rapper Drew Mason, but he has pulled it off with aplomb, no doubt inspiring many young folks as he does. Which brings me to my original thought: could "Paradigm Shift" really be the best rap album of the year? Eminem came and went, at first dazzling but ultimately leaving a bad taste in my mouth; Common, Q-Tip and Jay-Z dropped brilliantly done crowd-pleasers, further cementing their reps; Lil Wayne hasn't reclaimed his groove; and Drake lives up to his touts. But as far as straight-up REAL hip hop, "Paradigm Shift" is the real deal. Drew Mason tells the truth about his life and the lives of others who are still pathetically unrepresented, marginalized and buffoondalized and does it with style and panache. Plus I dare you to play this record just three times and not become addicted!

Never Being Boring: Pet Shop Boys at Warfield, San Francisco

IN MEMORY OF DENNIS ALLEN SIDMORE RIP DENNIS

It's the early 1990s. All my friends are either dead or dying from AIDS. I'm working at the Post Office doing data entry 8-12 hours a day, feeling real sorry for myself and fighting a formidable drug and alcohol problem that I couldn't seem to shake. I was full of rage, and had no clue that underneath all that anger was a massive load of straight-up fear. My best friend, Dennis, had gone from movie-star-good-looking to cadaver-with-a-sense-of-humor in what seemed like no time. I used to visit him every day, sit and talk, play with my dog, Cujo Marie, a dachshund-chihuaha mix that I left with him when I moved out a few years earlier.

Dennis and I had been lovers for a few years. He had enough money that I didn't have to work, but I had too much pride not to. I was unhappy at my drone job at the phone company, and having limitless spending money did allow me to quit working there and pursue one of my dreams: to work at a record store. I landed a night manager gig at Odyssey Records on Telegraph in Berkeley, about a block from campus. This was back when record stores stayed open until midnight. This was back when record stores - and records - actually existed as viable businesses. I had a lot of fun on that job, but drugs were rampant and Dennis and I began partying. Eventually I moved out and got my own place in Daly City and went back to the phone company.

We remained friends and kept in touch. I struggled with my addictions and Dennis got clean. He even became a drug counselor for a few years. I ended up moving back onto his property in Oakland and renting one of the cottages he had there. I had a new job and life was looking up. Dennis was in love and I got along well with his new partner. Then they began having problems and Dennis relapsed and acted out for a long time. His ex introduced me to crystal meth and I ended up strung out for the next 10 years.

Dennis got real sick real fast. I began trying to get clean, but I couldn't seem to do it. One day I was over his house after my latest relapse and he just chuckled in that froggy croak that passed for his voice and said, "Don't give up, Jimmy. You're just simple enough that recovery could work for you."

I didn't take offense. I always knew Dennis was my friend and, hey, I was very aware that I was not the brightest bulb in the batch. I went to work that day and did my data entry. The only good thing about the job - aside of course from the money - was that we could listen to CDs all day. I remember listening to Pet Shop Boys' "Behavior," especially the song, "Being Boring," and I felt like it summed up everything gay men had been going through, from moving to the city in search of freedom, to wilding out, to the epidemic , and I used to cry softly as I sang along and keyed up the mail. I didn't really care if anyone saw me and, anyway, no one was really paying attention to this sad old burn-out. Just one of many at the Post Office.

A couple of weeks later, Dennis' mother called me. She told me that Dennis would not be at home that morning and that I should come to Summit Hospital immediately as it appeared he was close to death. It happened so fast, man. I got there in time to sit by him and hold his hand and tell him I loved him. He had this big-ass mask on his face but he squeezed my hand real tight. I left in tears and went to work. A couple hours later, his Mom, Marie, told me that my best friend was dead.

I was bereft. My heart was broken. Marie and I became good friends in the aftermath of Dennis' death. No one else knew him the way that we did, and at the time, AIDS was considered a horrific plague. People used to openly say that gay men should be shipped to Alcatraz and left to die. It was a terrible time in many ways.
.
I finally got clean and stayed clean. I began helping other people to get clean also, and that became my saving grace. I became a volunteer at the Center for AIDS Services in Oakland and was able to make a little difference. Marie and I remained close until she passed away. My life changed in many, many ways. Surprising everyone including myself, I morphed into a singer-songwriter. On my first album, "Better Late Than Never," I wrote a song called "Gone Not Forgotten," part of which was about Dennis and no one else:

"You said I could be somebody
You said I already was
Gave me space to chase my dreams
All for love, all for love
Then you ran wild and you got sick
Sat with you every day
I know I'll see you one fine day
I'm still here, baby

Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...but not forgotten
No, no not forgotten"

So are you wondering how The Pet Shop Boys concerts at the Warfield in San Francisco ties in with this? Do you feel cheated because you expect my usual glowing review? Well, the shows were fantastic. I met a bunch of folks there and ended up right up front. The Pet Shop Boys verbalized so many things I didn't have words for at the time about the experience of being gay in the 1990s and beyond, and their shows are incredible. And both nights when they closed the show proper with "Being Boring," I sang along and cried, so grateful to have had a friend as true as Dennis Sidmore, and so grateful to have survived and have the life I live today.

"Cause we were never Being Boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never Being Boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
Cause we were never Being Boring
We were never being bored"

Tennant/Lowe

RIP Dennis Sidmore. I miss you. You're gone, but not forgotten. I still feel you in my heart.

SIDEBAR: I learned the other day that back in the day The Pet Shop Boys and Deadlee were talking about doing a song together. Deadlee is working on his next album. That collaboration would be pure magic. I don't think it's too late to get that idea going again!

Musical Heroes: Pet Shop Boys, Ari Gold, Deadlee, Lesley Gore

Ari Gold's new video debuted online at afterelton.com last week. It's for his ballad,"I Can Forgive You," a mature reflection on accepting the circumstances of a messy love affair gone awry, sung with the panache of Justin Timberlake with the kind of flexible, gorgeous voice Timberlake probably wishes he could muster nowadays. It's from his terrific "Transport Systems" CD, and differs from other R&B break-up ballads in that Gold is singing it to a man. Like the other songs on his record, he addresses issues currently intrinsic to the gay male experience, like the crystal meth epidemic ("Feeding the Fire"), the pleasures of casual encounters ("Ride to Heaven") and dealing with guys on the downlow ("Mr. Mistress"). It's joyful addictive dance-pop and Gold sings it all in his honeyed tenor without apology or grandstanding. He is who he is and he sings about his life as it is. I can only imagine the positive impact he has on young gay boys coming up and listening to his music.

That got me thinking about my musical heroes and their impact on me, and I realized that they all fall within the LGBT umbrella. The Pet Shop Boys who gave voice to my experience long before I was able to; the brilliant rapper Deadlee, whose ground-breaking, rule-smashing raps have set the template for new generations of outhiphop stars like the gifted Bry'Nt and vociferous Bone Intell and who has served as my muse and inspiration ever since I began exploring his work this year; and Lesley Gore, the 60s pop icon who came out of the closet and released her most mature, fully realized recording simultaneously.

It struck me that in my ongoing journey of self-discovery and personal growth (I almost gag writing those words but they're accurate), my embrace of musical artists who are open about their sexual preference and create music from their experiences was as authentic and organic as it was unconscious until now when I put it together. I know it's a sign of emotional, spiritual and mental health. I guess you don't know what you know until it's time for you to know it.

So I follow my musical heroes with enthusiasm and passion and I use what they do to encourage me to continue creating my own music. I saw Lesley Gore perform twice this year, at Yoshi's San Francisco and Feinstein's New York City, and when she sang the classic Billie Holiday blues, "Little Girl Blue" and chose to change the pronouns to "little boy lost in search of little boy found," I was far from the only person in the club with tears in his eyes. Ari Gold is working on his next project, touring and appearing off-Broadway. Deadlee is hard at work on his third recording, undoubtedly the most hotly anticipated out hip hop record ever, and continuing his unceasing outreach and support of the artists who have come behind him. The Pet Shop Boys' "Pandemonium" tour hits San Francisco tomorrow night and you know I will be there!

So this is a love song in words to my musical heroes, thanking them for the music, the courage, the inspiration, the balls to be who they are in a world and an industry that is still rife with homophobia. They each are so talented that they could have made it without being out and open, yet they chose to be who they are and their art and our culture are immeasurably enriched. Do yourself a favor and check out their work - vital, fresh and exciting. You won't regret it. You have my word on that!

Jim Allio Takes "Second Chance" to Club Sapphire

Ever wonder what it might be like to write, record and release a couple of records and yet never have set foot on a nightclub stage to sing your material, or even sing into a microphone while performing live? Maybe not, but that was the case with me, Jim Allio, the writer of this blog and the singer-songwriter responsible for two CDs, "Better Late Than Never" (2007) and this year's "Second Chance." I'd been asked to perform several times in the past couple of months, and last Saturday, I bit the bullet and did a two-song set at Club Sapphire in San Francisco. What was it like? I'll tell you all about it, but for those who don't know, here's a brief history:

1 - My friend, Martin, is moving and sells me his 4-track tape recorder for $100, showing me how I can use it to create up to four vocal tracks. I start playing with it, doubling my voice or singing one man harmony duets with myself. When I play them back, I think, "Huh...I used to sing better than that."

2 - I take a Voice class at Laney College with Professor Lucy Kinchen. She teaches vocal technique and encourages students to perform one of the five songs she has her class learn each semester. Terrified, but wanting to get the full experience, I do "Moon River" at the end of the semester and am shocked when I get a great response. I continue taking the class.

3 - I start running into folks who have taken the class with me, and who ask me to sing background on their records, or do duets or trios with them, or even adlib with their jazz band. I begin to feel encouraged, although I notice every time I get up to sing, it's a crap shoot whether I will let the fear overwhelm me. Each semester I sing for the class and in Laney open mikes.

4 - I begin hanging out with a local Oakland hiphop hopeful, Skarlo Paine. We drive around town playing new beats and tracks he is creating for his first record. For some reason, I'm not shy around him, and I riff off the cuff lyrics or just vocalese as we drive. It's fun.

5 - Paine learns I have a whole book of poems or lyrics lying around and looks at some of them, then asks me to consider writing a lyric for one of this tracks and then sing it. This becomes the song, "Help Me," which he includes on his 2005 record, "Distorted Melodies," and, surprisingly, it becomes the best received tune on the record.

6 - Paine next suggests I do my own record, with him producing, creating beats and tracks, and collaborating with me on the melodies. I'm not scared. I'm excited. We record off and on for a year and a half and in February 2007, "Better Late Than Never" is released and receives a good review in the East Bay Express.

7 - I continue taking Voice with Ms. Kinchen and perform several of the songs from my CD for the class and at Laney College open mikes. Stage fright is real but I keep getting up.

8 - I start work on my second CD, this time producing and arranging it as well as writing the lyrics and melodies. It becomes "Second Chance" and is released in February 2009. Friends begin helping me make videos of songs from the record to put on YouTube and that process begins making cracks in the wall of my stage fright. I also realize that people are genuinely digging some of the songs and that bolsters my confidence as well.

9 - Through a series of flukes and coincidences that, in hindsight, were obviously meant to be, I meet the rap star, Deadlee, and spend several nights hanging out with him and talking about everything under the sun, with a big emphasis on music and performing. He advises me to perform anywhere I can and to take an acting class. He has a heavy personal impact on me and my confidence inexplicably grows even more. Later he tells me he loves my CD and plans to write a review on it, and that sincere encouragement pushes me to the next level.

10 - Friends begin introducing me to other musicians and performers as Jim Allio, the recording artist, and I don't shy away. I begin to be asked to perform. At first I demur, but then I remember what Deadlee recommended, and I recognize that these doors are opening so I can walk through them, and I accept my first gig.

So here I am, at Club Sapphire on Sacramento Street, at a video shoot and birthday party for a Burmese pop star, Zadanya, a friend of my homie, writer-activist Randy Wong. I bring tracks for five songs with the vocals wiped and it is decided I will sing a couple of them between band sets. I'm nervous but not unreasonably so. This isn't ghetto Laney. This is a big party, 200 guests, all dressed up, and the only folks I know are Randy, Zadanya and another singer, Buschie. I realize with a start that I've never sung live with a microphone but decide to cross that bridge when they hand the mic to me.

Soon I'm sitting on stage waiting for them to cue my first song, "Wonderful Life." I get up and just start singing. I'm surprised that I'm not all that nervous now. The mic is no problem. I look around at the crowd. Shit. Most of them ain't payin' me NO mind, dog! This doesn't piss me off. It has the opposite effect. It relaxes me. I let go and just blow. I know the set is being filmed and I even play to the camera a bit. Buschie steps onstage and hands me a rose. I'm so surprised it doesn't dawn on me to kiss her on the cheek so I just say thanks, don't miss a beat and keep singing.

My second number is my most ambitious, "Little Boy Lost," a six minute ballad that changes tempo several times and requires me to go within and sing from my soul. I discover I'm able to go there, and I notice peripherally some folks appreciating what I am doing. Zadanya approaches the stage twice thinking the song is over and I tell him, "Not yet, almost" and keep going. It feels wonderful. I reach the end of the song and hold the last note a little longer than I do on the record. The crowd applauds warmly and I'm done.

I feel great. Later I see the videos and I'm okay with them. I learn that the chewing on hard candy has to go, but overall for my first time I am happy. I know I can do this and now my next challenge is to find other places to sing and do it on the regular. And I will.

The past few months I've been writing lyrics like crazy. My notebook is already half full and is my most constant companion. Some melodies are coming and I've started a few tracks. Record #3 is beginning to shape itself, but it won't be out until 2011. Until then, I will continue singing my songs in public and honing my performance skills. Now I know I can do this!

Videos of my live performances can be found on YouTube. Just search for "Jim Allio" and you'll see them.

Dorian Wood Burns Down the House at HomoAGoGo

I attended two days of the four day long Homo A Go Go festival, relocated this year from Olympia, Washington to San Francisco and saw a number of excellent LGBT acts, including Tim'm West with Dunce Apprentice and Sam Sax, and Jeremy Kloff. I'm inspired to submit my own music to the festival for possible inclusion next time. But the hands down highlight of the acts I caught was the incredible Dorian Wood from Southern California and his band, comprised of four (!) accordions, a drummer and a guitarist. Together they made some of the most joyful and spiritual noise I've been privileged to experience in a very long time. I take Voice from a teacher named Lucy Kinchen at Laney College in Oakland. Every semester the class learns and performs a Negro spiritual, and the process is reliably uplifting and illuminating. Dorian Wood brought the same spirit to the SOMarts stage this past Sunday.

I first encountered Wood when he sang the chilling hook on Deadlee's brilliant "Vengeance," then didn't recognize the same voice doing the beautiful hook on Salvimex's evocative "Tributo A Mi Tierra." Finally, watching a youtube video of Wood, Deadlee and Johnny Turok touring pyramids in Mexico, the light bulb went on as I watched him walk and sing with the most beautiful voice imaginable, that this was the real deal, a vocalist par excellence. I began exploring youtube videomaterial on him - and there is a treasure trove of clips worth seeking out - and there I found not only a serious singer-songwriter but an absolutely insane performance artist who might come out on stage with a veil over a pillowcase over his face, or dressed up as an animal, or sporting a porkpie hat and macho swagger. Intrigued, and learning he would be performing locally at HomoAGoGo, I downloaded his recent EP, "Black Pig Suite," and discovered a true original, fiercely reconciling cabaret, rock, pop, blues and spirituals in one musically challenging and invigorating package.

So I came to HomoAGoGo this past Sunday with eagerness and high hopes for an inspiring live show. I was not disappointed. From the rousing opener, "Pigfeed Blues" from the aforementioned EP, to the crowd-pleasing "The Real" with its succinctly relatable refrain, "no one breaks my heart and lives," and "The Mutual," Wood brought uncommon focus and commitment to his lyrics. And then there is his voice - a true force of nature, he goes from a whisper to a growl to a torrent of emotion to a howl and took me with him every note of the way. He may be the finest new singer - and he probably will hate being considered "new" - I've run into in years. As a singer, I appreciate what he does and I can't help but be a little envious of his instrument and what he is able to do with it.

The too-short set culminated in an extended version of "Well Well Well" from his heart-rending "Bolka" project, which I just bought yesterday after his show and am already hooked on. Wood began by asking the audience if they had been to church that morning and started singing the name Jesus over and over, finding new emotion and nuance each time, before launching into a fearless take on the song that was more church than any of us had likely been in many a day. He walked to the very lip of the stage and roared, growled, howled and just went all the fuck off like a man possessed in a riveting performane that had jaws dropping and folks cheering simultaneously.

Tough, sexy and spiritual, with songs that are challenging, deep and rewarding and hell yes that voice, Dorian Wood is indeed one of the finest singers I've ever heard. I look forward to other - longer - live shows by him and his next musical project. It will no doubt be worth seeking out.

The Land of Golden Dreams: Burmese Fundraiser

It's strange how sometimes you can do something for one reason, and something entirely unexpected comes out of it. This past Sunday, I attended the aptly-named "The Land of Golden Dreams," a fundraiser for the San Francisco Bay Area Burmese (aka Myanmar) Community Center, as well as a US 2010 Census Promotion. There is no community center yet, hence the fundraiser, and the census promotion is to get Burmese listed as a separate entity on the 2010 US Census. That way they can have a more accurate count of how many Burmese are in the US. At this point, they are lumped in with Chinese, totally incorrect. I was there at the invitation of my friend, activist-writer Randy Wong, and expected a relaxing hour or so eating Burmese food and maybe listening to some music. The fact that buying food tickets was a way of supporting both worthy goals was icing on the kasaba, as they say.

The first thing I noticed when I parked my car on the hill above Capuchino High School in San Bruno where the event was held was a loud and hot sounding rock band. "Cool!" I thought. "Rock music!" Then I realized they weren't singing in English. Even cooler! Once on the festival grounds, I saw there were tents over all the food tables, hundreds of folks milling about, and that rock band playing at the entrance to the school auditorium. I called Randy on his celly and he joined me, showing me around, introducing me to many people. It seemed he knew everyone. I think he did! Interestingly, he told everyone we met that I was a recording artist and songwriter. He suggested I sing with the band, but at first I thought he was just joking.

By now I was famished. Randy insisted I try a few of his favorites: steamed yellow tofu with cilantro and peanut sauce (tasty! and it's tofu! revelation!); what I thought was fried fish but turned out to be fried squash; and faluda, a strawberry custard swimming in ice cream - scrumptious. I made a donation to the fundraiser and bought some food tickets which I presented at a dessert table. $5 netted me two big baggies full of Burmese sweet treats!

We went into the auditorium and looked at some wonderful photographs taken in Burma as well as some beautiful paintings. I was introduced to Valerie, Miss Asia 2004, among many other titles, stunning...As we stopped at tables supporting the census change and highlighting issues in Burma today, I got a quick education in Burmese history. I learned that the yellow handkerchief pictured above portrays one of their most revered heroes - and political martyrs -General Aung San and his cabinet, who were all assassinated in a meeting by mercenaries hired by a British colony, leading to the violence, oppression and suffering that continues unabated in Burma to this day.

The next day the unjust sentencing of General San's daughter, Suu Kyi, was globally condemned. Cutting her sentence in half is not enough. Just like North Korea, Mynamar doesn't give a fuck what the world thinks.

As I was preparing to leave, Randy introduced me to Tomas, who he said was a Burmese pop star. Tomas suggested I sing with the band, if not today, then in a couple of weeks. Turns out Tomas is a well known singer who goes by the name of ZaYanDa, and Randy wangled an invite for me to his video shoot/birthday party next Saturday evening, where I will sing something from my CD, "Second Chance" (live debut of the material) and likely sing with the band, as well as appear in the video.

It's amazing sometimes how you can attend a function just to hang out with a friend and end up having a totally different experience than what you expected. Warm and wonderful people, great music and excellent eats - this was indeed the Land of Golden Dreams!

Dwele: Sketches of the Man at Yoshi's Oakland

The first time I saw Detroit neo-soul r&b crooner Dwele perform was several years ago at Space 550, a huge club in San Francisco's warehouse district usually reserved for gay circuit parties. He opened for Slum Village, the legendary and now-defunct D-Town rap high priests, in what was essentially a glorified track date, and didn't take the stage until after 1 AM. As soon as he stepped out, though, the wait and the late hour faded and Dwele served notice that he had arrived. Slum Village brought him back to sing the hook on their classic "Tainted" - so irresistible it launched his career - and Dwele was well on his way.

Discovered by the late great producer J. Dilla, Dwele (full Swahili name Andwele, meaning "God has brought me") has seen his career grow by leaps and bounds from singing hooks to opening track dates in the middle of the night to playing prestige gigs like the Yoshi's Oakland engagement I was privileged to attend last night. Drawing from all three of his well-received albums, "Subject," "Some Kinda..." and the current "Sketches of a Man" - quiet storm and urban contemporary format linchpins - Dwele showed up at Yoshi's with a horn section, two superb backup vocalists, drums, guitars and a ridiculous keyboardist, and replicated the phat full swoony sound of his records. Disarmingly easy going with a personal style to match his smooth vocals, Dwele had the sell-out crowd in the palm of his hand from start to finish.

Specializing in slyly observed tales of romance and money in the urban milieu, Dwele opened with the atypical but jammin' "Body Rock" from "Sketches," and launched into a seamless progression of songs that played like a high concept album come to life. The crowd went nuts for his evocative "Old Lovas" and witty "I'm Cheatin'" (he's cheating on his girl with his girl, she's like two women in one) with their sophisticated but singalong-able choruses, and had us with him all the way on the straightforward and steady rockin "Flapjacks" complete with adroitly placed male audience participation. By the time he left the stage to dance with various women, the audience was in a frenzy and he played us perfectly. My only quibble is that I wish he had sung the hook to "Flashing Lights," the off-the-chain Kanye West collabo that hasn't left my iPod in close to two years.

Too soon the show was over and my tablemates and I looked at each other and laughed. He fully inhabited the old show biz adage to leave them wanting more - and we do! If you have a chance to catch Dwele's show, he will be at Yoshi's for the next two nights. If he's performing anywhere near you, do yourself a favor and check him out. You won't regret it.

Jim Allio "Kiss It Up to God" Lyrics

KISS IT UP TO GOD

When things don't go my way
And I wanna run run run
When I don't know what to do or say
Can't fix it, look for answers
Can't fix it, look for answers
But none come, none come, none come, none come

When there's nothing left to do
And no one, no place to go to
I finally remember to turn to you
And let go, let go, let go

Kiss It Up to God when I'm lost without a clue
Kiss It Up to God when I'm lonely and so blue
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God

When somebody does me wrong
And I wanna pay them back back back
When I wanna get revenge
Bide my time till they forget their attack
But it doesn't work, doesn't work, doesn't work
No it doesn't work, doesn't work, doesn't work

Finally I remember say a prayer
Wish all good things for them
Though I don't really mean it
I'm not there
I do it anyway, find the words to pray
Yes, I do it anyway, find the words to pray
And turn it over, turn it over, turn it over, turn it over

Kiss It Up to God when I'm lost without a clue
Kiss It Up to God when I'm lonely and so blue
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God

(Yeah) Kiss It Up to God when I'm lost without a clue
Kiss It Up to God when I'm lonely and so blue
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God
Kiss It Up to God, Kiss It Up to God

(Instrumental, then repeat chorus twice and fade)

Words and Music by James Allio
Copyright 2009 whitechocmusic

A Visible Life: RIP E. Lynn Harris

I'm glad I was already sitting down when I learned this morning that E. Lynn Harris had died. Reading the news in a post from a Facebook friend was like getting punched in the stomach. E. Lynn Harris dead? How can that possibly be? Oh my God...and then, typically, but I'm not through reading him! I was waiting to see what he'd come up with next!

It was that way with me and E Lynn since the beginning when I encountered his "Invisible Life" at the Barnes and Nobles outlet at Jack London Square in the midst of an unusually dark and troubled period of my life. The cover art - all blurred and phyne-ass folk - caught my eye and when I scanned the synopsis I knew I had to give this new author a shot. I brought the book home, opened it up and was instantly hooked. Harris was telling stories of people I knew living lives I understood and opening the curtain to lives I didn't. Downlow men, of whom I'd known my share, men of color, who comprised the majority of my homies, angry and conflicted men - the shock of recognition when I ran into myself was almost more than I could take. But I kept reading. Harris was a wonderful writer who specialized in short chapters that kept you turning the pages to find out what happened next, kinda like the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys cliffhanger mysteries I loved as a kid.

But Harris did more than just tell engrossing, laugh-out-loud, talk-to-the-book stories. In a time when AIDS was rampant and my friends were dying one by one, when sending gays to Alcatraz for quarantine was actually discussed (crazy, but I remember when it was), when the churches turned their back on homosexuals, when paranoia was at its highest, he wrote about young All-American African-American men who were closeted out of fear and what it cost them. He demonstrated with heart , wit and passion just how the Black church and the downlow subculture was contributing to the decimation of a whole community.

But this was no sociological treatise, though you could break it down as such. Harris loved his characters, even the gold diggers, even the family members who turned their backs on their gay sons and brothers, even the closeted bisexual football player, Basil, who spewed anti-gay venom in early books and had sex with men on the side. I often suspected he loved Basil most of all. His characters were three-dimensional and they struggled. Many appeared in several of his books, which could be read as continuing installments or as stand-alone works of can't-wait-to-see-what's-next fiction.

It got to where I couldn't wait for the next Harris book and would be at the bookstore the day they came out to buy them. Once my friend, Tony, who volunteered at the Center for AIDS Services with me, beat me to the punch and showed up with "Abide With Me" before I even knew it was out. And I well recall the Saturday I was at an airport bookstore in Houston and asked the clerk if she had "Not A Day Goes By," knowing damn well it didn't come out until the following Tuesday and she grinned, reached under the counter, and handed me an advance copy! I swear I knew God was lovin' me that day...

Maybe eight years ago, E Lynn came to San Francisco to read and meet fans at A Different Light, the pre-eminent Castro Street bookstore. I ended up in the second row. He came up to the podium in understated but full sartorial splendor and engaged his audience reading the first chapter of his new book. He had us laughing and nodding our heads as he read about a particularly wicked dinner party, and then he told a couple of personal stories before opening it up to let us meet him one by one.

This was my moment to let him know how much his books had helped me, how they had held my hand in dark dark times when I thought I might never emerge, how they had let me know I wasn't alone and things would get better. I wanted to tell him how he made me laugh and how he helped me understand things about myself and others I may not have gotten any other way. I had promised myself that if I ever have the chance to tell my heroes what they mean to me, I will do it, no matter how nervous or tongue-tied I feel. I've done it with Lesley Gore, I've done it recently with Deadlee.

And I did it that warm summer night with E Lynn Harris. I took that moment. I told him what I needed to tell him and his eyes welled up with tears and then mine did. It was contagious! We hugged and thanked each other. There was a long line of fans behind me and it was time to blend back in with the Castro Street throng.

RIP E Lynn Harris. You're already missed.

Deadlee, Johnny Dangerous, Tori Fixx "Pick Up The Mic"

From the opening booming synth chords of "No Fags Allowed," the anthemic Deadlee/Dutch Boy collaboration, "Pick Up the Mic" serves notice that we are embarking on a journey into barely charted territories: the diverse convergence of sound and words that makes up the burgeoning homohop (aka outhiphop) movement. Director Alex Hinton filmed more than a dozen LGBT rap artists for three years all over the United States, in concert and in their homes, and has created a vibrant, no-holds-barred look at the music and the musicians who make the music.

From the start it is clear that outhiphop artists are very aware that they are bucking the hiphop trend by being "out" and rapping about their real life experiences, which include their LGBT identities. Some have a clearly defined mission and imperative (Dutchboy, Deadlee, Tim'm T West), others hope to use their homohop notoriety as a springboard to mainstream success (Johnny Dangerous, God-Des), some are consciously political (Deep Dick Collective), others pointedly carnal (Dangerous, Tori Fixx) and others a combination of all of the above. These are brave writers and performers who have the courage of their convictions and make the music they want to make and say what they want - or possibly need - to say to a hugely underserved audience, LGBT rap fans, and there are hordes of us.

Among the many highlights are Aggracyst's emotional discovery of fellowship and camraderie and recognition that he is finally not alone in making this music; Miss Money's discovery that Dutchboy is actually bisexual; Tim'm's meeting with an ostensibly straight wanna-be rapper near Christopher Street and his adept, aware handling of the situation; God-Des' aching desire for huge mainstream acceptance; Juba Kalamaka's incisive delineation of what makes him do this music.

The many musical segments, most truncated, are the real highlights of this smart, well thought out film, and show the artists doing what they love doing. Johnny Dangerous' beat-heavy syncopated music is shown here to great effect, as is the prolific Tori Fixx's undeniably catchy material. Fixx is also shown to be more than just an artist, but a producer, manager and mentor, mantles many of the artists here have adopted, to their credit. Bay Area rapper Jenro looks like a serious contender based on the range shown in her two numbers.

Four Deadlee songs are featured here: the previously mentioned "No Fags Allowed," soulful, searing "Good Soldier,"" the in-your-face and horny "Suck Mah Gun," and the raunchy collaboration with Johnny Dangerous, "Crack Hit." Possibly due to all the musical spots, Deadlee primarily figures in the film as occasional sound bites and validation and encouragement for the artists who have come after him. However, he shows up in the generous (42 minutes) extras on this DVD, sharing his coming out story as do several of his peers, and, significantly, letting us into his private life with his then-partner Drastiko at home. This particular segment is as revolutionary and political as anything in this documentary given the climate engendered by Prop 8 (Prop H8).

"Pick Up The Mic" is an important, powerful and fascinating film, a peek inside a musical subculture that continues to grow and thrive. Kudos to Alex Hinton for putting his camera where his heart lies and celebrating these talented, determined and inspiring artists.

Spencer Day "Vagabond"

Los Angeles based singer-songwriter-pianist Spencer Day returns with his debut CD on the Concord Jazz label. Acclaimed as a smooth and jazzy vocalist in the tradition of saloon singers from Sinatra to Buble, Day distinguished himself by being out, by writing much of his own material, and not relying solely on the classic American pop and show tune standards that he could have easily built a career on. Citing the influence of Burt Bacharach, Roy Orbison and Dusty Springfield (sheesh, two out of three are dead), Day weaves a magical spell from the very first track, "Till You Come to Me," setting a very urban scene of yearning in a crowded humid noisy city. I can easily imagine the 60s Dusty Springfield singing this and several more of Day's sleek and urbane compositions. Likewise, the sinuous, complex, string-heavy arrangements really are reminiscent of Bacharach's 60s work with Dionne Warwick, and Brazilian flavors blend seamlessly into his mix.

Born in Utah and raised in rural Arizona, Day incorporates light country into his sound on songs like "Everybody Knows," a terrific song about the pressures of living in the closet. Day's vocals here range from measured and controlled to an urgent belt that appears off and on throughout this excellent record to perfect effect. "Weeping Willow," and "Tuesday Morning (Maybe)" reveal a very specific and thoughtful perspective as well as a bracing sense of humor. Several songs, like "Joe" and "Better Way," betray the young man's concerns for the world-at-large and young gay men in particular that is heartening.

Spencer Day has been blessed with a wonderful vocal instrument and rapidly evolving songwriting skills and he is a solid fit for the Concord Jazz label. "Vagabond" should catapult him into the upper echelon of modern singer-songwriters right alongside Rufus Wainwright and his ilk, and he deserves it. Don't be surprised if he is a household name before long due to the engaging and sophisticated music found on "Vagabond."

"Vagabond" will be released September 8, 2009, but will be available in advance of that date at live Spencer Day performances. In the San Francisco Bay Area, he will appear July 24-26 at Yoshi's San Francisco and July 27 at Kuumbwa Jazz in Santa Cruz. More info can be found at www.spencerday.com/.

This Time Next Year's Tour Launch Party at Blakes

Equal Vision Records hosted a tour launch party for their new rising alterna-punk stars, This Time Next Year, at Larry Blake's on Telegraph in Berkeley, a block from the UC Berkeley campus, and plenty of punk rock lovin' students showed up to show love for the band. This Time Next Year have been touring behind their two indie EPs nearly constantly and have built up a loyal cadre of hardcore fans for their unique blend of punk, rock and alternative pop. They did not disappoint fans with a solid set that mixed old favorites and new material from their full length Equal Vision label debut, "Road Maps and Heart Attacks," due in September. The only thing rowdier than the band was the mosh pit in front of the stage that grew wider and bigger song by song until it threatened to swallow up the vocally adept lead singer, Pete Dowdalls, who didn't seem to mind jumping into the crowd one iota. TTNY has developed into a crowd-pleasing band that has a blast on stage and takes its audience with them every badazz beat of the way. Can't wait for the new record. In the meantime, a couple of new tracks are available on itunes, and there is a real cool white vinyl 7-inch single available, too. Check them out at myspace.com/thistimenext year.

Jim Allio "Little Boy Lost" Lyrics

Lyrics for this song from "Second Chance," video storyboarded by writer Kate Britton, to be shot and directed this week by Britton, look for it on youtube.com and facebook soon.

LITTLE BOY LOST

The cars swoosh by in the middle of the night
The cars drive by with their boomin' systems
The wind whistles down 14th Avenue
The fog rolls in
And I feel sad
Disappointed
I feel sad

Little Boy Lost, little boy blue
You came to the big city
In search of someplace you could do you
Little Boy Lost, little boy blue
Out here on your own
And you don't know
No, you don't know what to do
Little Boy Lost, little little little boy blue
Thought you found true love
But that love wasn't true
Little Boy Lost, little boy blue

(Latin Party Interlude)

Little Boy Lost, little boy blue
You've lost your way and realize
No one's gonna rescue you

You thought you found the pot of gold
At the rainbow's end
All you really got is a lot more old
You were bought and sold
And bought and sold again
Just the same old fool's gold
You can't even find a friend, my friend
No one's gonna rescue you
It's all on you
So what you gonna do
Tell me, what you gonna do

Little Boy Lost, little boy blue
You came to the big city
In search of someplace you could do you
Little Boy Lost, little boy blue
Out here on your own
And you don't know
No, you don't know what to do

Little Boy Lost
Little Boy Lost
Little Boy Lost
Little Boy Lost

copyright 2009 by whitchoc38music, written by James A. Allio

Ladies of the Lake (Merritt)

Twelve years ago I quit smoking because my best girlfriend, Alyssa, had quit and I was, I think now, feeling competitive. At the time I was smoking three packs a day, and it was another bad habit that needed to go. They told me that every cigarette smoked represents a feeling stuffed and not felt, so I shouldn't have been surprised when I fell into depression. I got help from my physician and one of the things he recommended was exercise, so I began walking around Lake Merritt, the beautiful lake in the heart of Oakland. Eventually I began jogging and loved it, but more on that later.

The first Wednesday I walked the Lake, I noticed two rowboats in the center of the Lake filled with women dressed in white with blue scarfs and sailor hats, just rowing around the Lake. What a trip! I thought. I wonder who they are. For the next several years, every Wednesday morning that I was down at the Lake, they were there, too, and I got curious

Turns out they are called The Ladies of the Lake, and they are a group of women who have been dressing in sailor uniforms and boating on the Lake since 1916. Damn! 1916!?! Over the years, generations of women from the same families have taken up the mantle, and there are always ladies interested in joining. Sometimes one boat is out there, frequently two and once in a while, you spot three of them. Unless it's raining, you can count on seeing them. They're so goofy, such an atavism in a city known more for gang wars and urban blight than genteel activities, but that's the real Oakland for you, a city full of paradox and beauty to match the rough side the media emphasizes.

A couple of years ago I was in a bad car accident, injured my left foot and was left with what doctors told me was a permanent limp. They also told me I would most likely never be able to jog again and would just have to adjust, particularly since my job involves intense physical labor for several hours a day. They said I could walk the Lake occasionally but that was it.

About five weeks ago, I was doing just that when I realized I was no longer limping and thought, "Hey! Let me just try jogging again!" Five weeks later, I'm almost all the way around the Lake (3.5 miles) without stopping and I am ecstatic. I was a regular at the Lake and every day I run into folks I used to see on the daily and we are so happy to see each other. It feels so good.

And nothing felt better than the first Wednesday morning I was back at the Lake and spotted the Ladies of the Lake, rowing their boats, chillin' like villains and assuring me that this day, like so many others, would be chockfull of unexpected delights and joys, if only I pay attention and keep my mind open. I love me some Ladies of the Lake!

Forever Michael & Farrah

When I heard Farrah Fawcett died yesterday, I was saddened even though it was not unexpected. I remember seeing Farrah in this great old sci-fi flick, "Logan's Run," and immediately being taken with her, and then of course she took over everyone's imagination as Jill in "Charlie's Angels." Teenage boys' bedrooms - and not a few teenage girls - were not official without her famous racy-for-the-time poster. She always reminded me of girls I went to school with, grew up with, worked with, hung out with - pretty, funny, down-to-earth and fun to be with. Over time she completely surprised me by morphing into one of our finest serious actresses, blowing my mind particularly with her scorching performances in the grueling "Extremities" and "The Burning Bed." It became evident that beneath the sunny ultrablonde prototype was a woman with issues, insights and a lot to say. At times over the years her acting career was overshadowed by her eccentricities and personal difficulties, but her pure talent was never diminished. It was undeniable. When I heard she had passed on, I thought, ahhh, I hope now she is at peace.

Then I learned Michael Jackson had died. At 50. So young. I was at work when I learned and we all were shaking our heads and speechless. I was a little bit in shock, a little bit incredulous. As the day moved on, the memories came flooding in. The Jackson 5 on tv, Michael a ball of fire with a prodigious vocal talent. The way that group ruled radio for a time. The time when I was off work for three months with hepatitis and went into San Francisco and found his early solo LP, "Forever Michael" in a record store on Polk Street for 99 cents, brought it home and fell in love with the songs and his transitioning voice. I learned that album by heart and, years before I had even a glimmer that I would be singing and composing myself, I would stand up in the living room of the cottage I rented in Daly City and perform the entire record to entertain myself.

Then there was the time I was on the first post-trick date with Bob, who later became my partner for a couple of years, and we went to a disco below North Beach in the City frequented by bisexuals, open-minded young straights and gays, and heard and danced to "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" for the first time. That electric percussion avalanche that opened up that record snared me immediately, and his work with Quincy Jones ("Off the Wall," "Thriller") captured my imagination as well.

Yesterday was a sad day, and it got sadder as the day got longer. There had been great things happening earlier in the day that had me happy and smiling, but by the time I got off work, I had been on the verge of tears several times, feeling the loss. I watched the news when I arrived home and saw that hundreds of people had converged on the Embarcadero in SF and had a spontaneous dance party with Michael's music. It was still going on when the 11 PM news aired. I wished I hadn't been at work. I felt connected to those folks.

This morning I woke up and I could feel the tears close to the surface again. As I jogged around Lake Merritt, they came up a couple of times and I let them. Fuck it. There's nothing wrong with feeling grief, even for people I don't know personally, especially true icons like Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. In their own unique ways, both artists informed, inspired and shaped my dreams, and I'm grateful for them. I hope they're at peace after all their trials. Their legacy will live on, and I can tap into their spirits through their art whenever I choose to, or, like today, when I walk past an open door, and "Thriller" is washing out into the street.

Deadlee, D'Lo, Sean Dorsey and the Fresh Meat Festival

"People don't look past the skin," said transsexual pioneer Lou Sullivan. I may be paraphrasing, but the sentiment resonated with me over and over as I attended three out of the four Fresh Meat Festival performances at Project Artaud in San Francisco this past weekend.
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Chatting with one of the board members at intermission on night 3, the affable Stacey, I was asked why I had been to three of the shows. I told him that I am a huge Deadlee fan and he rarely rarely plays in these parts and I was taking advantage of the opportunity to immerse myself in his live show. I had never seen him in person before and had heard he was great. Plus I had a list of questions in my wallet that I planned to ask him if he consented to be interviewed for this blog. But more on that later...

So Fresh Meat Festival is a yearly event, akin to an old school variety show, of the cream of the crop of queer and transgender perfomance. I really had no expectations beyond seeing Deadlee, and to my surprise and delight, my mind was blown by each of the ten acts showcased here. The Taiko Ren drummers opened the show on a fierce intense note, combining rhythm and athleticism and merging the two with pure joy. Zoe Balfour and Citabria Phillips seemed to lift off the floor in their frenetic ballroom dance stanza; the Barbary Coast Cloggers were exhilarating and exciting, even bringing Gwen Stefani and Pharrell into clogging bliss territory; Mind Over Matter Dance Company, which closed the show, had us cheering, laughing and seat-dancing throughout their too-brief set.

ryka aoki de la cruz was enchanting in her "Alternator Domme" piece, which began with a broken alternator on a drive up Highway 5, transitioned through searching for an auto mechanic, getting the money by doing a dungeon domme gig involving a feisty chihuaha, and ended with some sweet revelation, musical and otherwise. StormMiguel Flores sang two evocative and musically sophisticated songs he wrote that had me spellbound. Shawna Virago also sang two numbers.

The Sean Dorsey Dancers (Dorsey, Juan de la Rosa, Brian Fisher, Nol Simonse) did an excerpt from her suite, Lou, that transported me to a whole other place, putting the entire evening into a spiritual context for me. Yep, I said spiritual.

D'Lo, a Tamil Sri L.A.nkan-American, was almost my favorite of the evening, proving herself an astute social commentator and a consummate actor, emerging as her loving and conservative mother in full Sri Lankan dress, and morphing into her b-boi persona, dispensing mordant ruminations on the importance of friendship and connectedness in a world that is often hostile.

Of course, if you read this blog, you know my feet were barely touching the ground waiting to see Deadlee perform live. He began with an angry spoken word piece written during a college tour, and moved into two of my favorite Deadlee 2213 songs, the dance anthem, "Nasty" and the riveting and erotic "Carnival in My Mind." Deadlee was straight up ferocious! He not only exceeded my expectations and hopes, he proved himself a superb performer, able to bring the goods in any venue, gay or other, and left me hella hungry for more. Now I can't wait to see him mount a full show. Hell, I'd travel to see that one!

And the interview questions in my wallet I planned to ask him for this blog? After the first show, we met and clicked hard, talking for an hour, and hanging out post-show the next couple of nights. I did ask him plenty of questions, but it wasn't really interview mode. It was more like two gay men talking candidly about their lives and experiences, and getting to know a new friend. Man to man, artist to artist. Pulling stuff from the time we spent laughing and chopping it up doesn't feel appropriate. The interview will have to wait until another time. The questions are still in my wallet, though!

At intermission one night, I was chatting with the ASL person, Jenny, and enthusing about how much we dug Deadlee and wondering how she was going to sign some of his more explicit lyrics. It struck me then and there just how grateful I was to have followed Deadlee to this gig to encounter a whole world of thought, art and performance with transformative powers. Fresh Meat, I will be back!

Enemy: Lyrics

En-en-en-enemy-my-my
Enemy-my-my, enemy-my-my
Enemy, enemy, enemy

Why are you so mean?
Is everything okay?
It just doesn't seem
Like you need to act this way

Enemy, enemy, enemy
Enemy, enemy, enemy

Why are you so mean?
Is it to hide the pain?
Or to separate yourself
So you don't see we're just the same?

Enemy, enemy, enemy
Enemy, enemy, enemy

(Spoken) I see you
I see you walkin' around the job
With your head held high
Like your shit don't stink
Never really paid you no mind
So why you wanna fuck with me?

Why are you so wack?
Is it to hide what you lack?
Better not have a heart attack
I'll keep on walkin' and I won't look back

(Now) enemy, enemy, enemy
Enemy, enemy, enemy
Enemy, enemy, enemy

(Spoken) I keep tryna figure out what I said
What I did or didn't do
You know, I just don't get it
I wouldn't put you through all this
But even if it's over
I can't think of you as...

En-en-en-enemy-my-my
Ah ah ah

Words (and Music) by James A. Allio
Copyright 2009 whitchoc38 music

Lyrics: "Damaged Goods"

By request, I'll be loading lyrics to the songs on my CD, "Second Chance" periodically. Here's track one (all tracks written by me, Jim Allio)

DAMAGED GOODS

Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods

Got tired of sittin' on the shelf
Got up, went out lookin' for something new
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods

And so I brought this on myself
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goo-oods
Damaged Goods

Don't tell me what I should and should not do
No, no
No, no!
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Da-yeah-maged Goods

Can't stop when it feels this good
It feels so good
Fire's too hot when I'm around you
It feels so good
It feels so good

Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods

Can't say I didn't see it comin'
My eyes, my eyes were wide open
Yes they were
Damaged Goods
Uh yes they were
Damaged Goods

Can't stop once you got me hummin'
Don't know if I'm comin' or goin'
Damed Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Yeah, ee-yeah yeah yeah yeah

Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Now Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goo-oo-oooooooooods, yeah

Don't know which way this thing is gonna go
I can't call it, I can't call it
Don't know what's 'round the corner, down the road
I can't call it, I can't all it

Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Might turn out bad
But it feels too good
It might turn out bad
But it feels too good

Don't call me your victim
I volunteer
I'm Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods
Damaged Goods, Damaged Goods (repeat)

Copyright 2009 whitchoc38 music

KATE NASH: Criminally Overlooked

There's a ton of them out there right now: British blue-eyed soulstresses commanding airplay, record sales, magazine covers, Grammy awards, tabloid fodder. There's Amy Winehouse, of course, and Lilly Allen. There's Adele and Duffy, and no doubt scores of others waiting in the wings. They all mine similar veins of 60s retro-themed turf, bluesy-jazzy fare with Motown and girl group overtones and tres moderne lyrics that push the envelope for what used to be called "girl singers." They're pretty and stylish and have perfect voices leaning to the pop side of soul, but they differ from the Lulus, Sandies and Lesleys and Dustys, Nancys and Petulas, in that their songs are peppered with profanity and sexuality is not alluded to, it's explicitly delineated. This is 2009, after all, 10 years after Alanis went down on an ex at the movies, and the girl-next-door is almost an atavism.

Enter Kate Nash, possessor of a terrific and number-one-in-Britain album, "Made of Bricks," that for some strange reason hasn't achieved the same level of success and notoriety here in the United States as her talented peers. I saw her perform on Kimmel and Letterman and the other late night talk shows when she was over here and her material impressed me as well as her fierce keyboard work. I liked her voice and her presence was attractive. I thought, yep, here's another one of those Brit girls inheriting the Lisa Stansfield mantle and taking it to the next level, it's good to hear new voices walking around in old shoes.

Then I downloaded the album, played it and bam! I fell head over heels in love. Great voice, well thought out but not overwrought musical settings, and the songs! Shit. Nash has a unique point of view, a finely developed sense of humor and is happy to share her self-effacing and wry self with her audience. Her beats, almost uniformly piano based, pulse and pump perfectly with her smartass songs like my favorite, "Dickhead" ("Why you being a dickhead for? Why you being a dickhead? Why you being a dickhead for? You keep fuckin up situations") that make me chuckle and instantly recognize my own sometime interior monologues. No, wait! "We Get On" is my favorite, the "It's My Party" update where Johnny checks out Kate's ass and she gets a little too tossed. No, no, it's "Mariella," about the friend who commits suicide to a steady Chiffons bounce. It's so hard to choose a definitive favorite, because every song, from the irresistible "Merry Happy" and its steadily increasing breakneck pace to the UK #2 smash, "Foundations," perfectly encapsulating a relationship that's flushing down the toilet, is wonderful to listen to, laugh with and sing along to.

Kate Nash fell down a flight of stairs, broke her foot and was housebound and unable to move for a time, so her mother bought her an electric guitar which she taught herself to play and began writing songs. She booked a gig at a local pub, recorded a couple of demos, put up a my space page, hired a manager and then a producer, a savvy blend of young business woman and music nerd, and it's worked for her. She may have been criminally overlooked here in the US so far, but I doubt that will last. She is working on a new record, reportedly more of a punk sound, that should be out by the end of the year. If it's anything like "Made or Bricks," we are in for a real treat.

TIM'M WEST: Godfather of OutHipHop

Poet-rapper-performer-professor-singer-songwriter-speaker blogger-recording artist...Tim'm West is the personification of a post-millennial Renaissance man, an artist extraordinaire who could make a go in any one of those fields but keeps busy in all of them. He is a man on a mission with the courage and hubris to put himself in the public eye as exactly who he is: a proud, complex gay man confronting personal issues in public forums and making enormous headway in opening minds. He also has inspired a couple of generations of young people coming up, and his work provides encouragement and support for his peers and elders.

Years before the expanding gay hip hop movement (or homo hop, as it's sometimes called) was all over the media, West was one of the founding members of DDC, Deep Dick Collective, conscious rappers addressing gay issues and whose gay members were all the way out. Just their existence at Pride festivals and clubs all over the Bay Area, where I first encountered them, was confrontational, and their recordings were avidly circulated in the community. Their joy at being valid hip hop artists dealing with unspoken issues was contagious, and they developed a rabid following. West remained accessible and active in political and gay rights communities while pursuing his musical dreams, and actively supported and advised other artists trying to engage some of the musical areas he and DDC were pioneering.

Then in 2004, West stepped out from the pack he helped create with his first solo recording, "Songs From Red Dirt," a superb melding of conscious rap, beautiful vocals and melodies, and heartfelt stories about Tim'm, his life and experiences. "Red Dirt" catapulted the homo hop movement into the musical stratosphere and proved, once and for all, that a record about one gay man's experiences could be exhilarating, danceable and addictively listenable. It quickly became my favorite record of that year and I can't tell you how many people of various persuasions I turned on to this true masterpiece.

In the intervening years, Tim'm West has continued his multi-hyphenate pursuits, publishing books of poetry, teaching students at various universities across the country, leading workshops, performing spoken word and music all over the damn place. He has released two more solo CDs, "Blakkboy Blues" and "In Security: The Golden Error," which, if there was any justice in what's left of the music industry, would find homes on alternative radio everywhere. They are cutting edge contemporary and remain fresh and vital, as they still deal with issues that mainstream artists shy away from.

Tim'm West, the Godfather of OutHipHop, is perhaps our most important voice. Yes, his singing is beautiful, his melodies compelling, his words clever, funny, from the heart and to the point. Crucially, he is still out there presenting his truth no holds barred, opening doors for others to follow, and pursuing new dreams. He's still a young man. Long may he reign.

You can check out, download and order Tim'm West's music at iTunes. cd baby and amazon. I've said it before: Do not sleep on Tim'm West. You'll really be missing out.