It never fails that something strange happens to me every time I play Delaney's. Whether it be a drunken patron/semi-famous actor jumping up on stage and singing with me, whether it be a request for Hootie and the Blowfish, whether it be 47 cents dropped into my tip jar ... it's never dull.

And so it was last night, as well. Near the end of my first set, a guy came up to the stage to request that I do a toast. Sounded innocuous enough, so I agreed. But I should've waited for the punch line, I guess, because he wanted to toast to the recent death of Saddam Hussein.

He said he and his buddy were both Marines, just back from Iraq, and that he wanted the bar to raise their glasses with them to celebrate the dictator's execution.

Now, I'm no Saddam apologist. He was a ruthless bastard, and the world's probably better without him around. But it just seemed a little inappropriate to raise a toast to someone's death, particularly when I disagreed with the Iraq invasion all along and have no idea why we're over there. Moreover, my reservations about the death penalty in general made this an even more difficult request.

But I also didn't want to disrespect Marines. I'm told that's not a good idea. And I certainly want to support those who put their lives on the line to fight, even when I don't agree with the cause.

But the guy wasn't letting up. He asked me two or three times if I would comply with his request.

So when my second set started, I got up and told the audience:

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could direct your attention to my left, the two men sitting over there are Marines just back from Iraq. I'd like to raise a glass to them. They wanted me to raise a toast to Saddam Hussein's execution, which seemed a little inappropriate and morbid, so I will instead raise a toast to their service to our country. We are all thankful for people like them. Let's all give them a big hand."

Pretty smooth, huh? Potential crisis (of both conscience and fisticuffs) averted.

And I am now considering a career in politics or hostage negotiation.

I'm a little behind on this project, as I wanted to have most of my lyrics posted here before our Art Bar show tonight. Or at least the lyrics to songs that haven't been recorded yet. But here's "New Lows":

New Lows

The light's been faint now for so long--
It's been so slow to dim and fail--
It might not ever really die at all.
Is that worse than living in the dark,
When I've got just enough light left
To see that I can move but have to crawl?

I am in the throes,
And if I have hit new lows,
Then let the lid be sealed.
We're on a level field.
I spat back and fought,
And I did what you could not.
My eyes were never closed.
My eyes were never closed.

They say to strike first at the heart.
You should attack instead my spade
'Cause down here nothing else will scare cold men.
It's not for fear I'll tunnel out.
It's fear that I'll dig deeper still,
'Til everything above me crashes in.

I am in the throes,
And if I have hit new lows,
Then let the lid be sealed.
We're on a level field.
I spat back and fought,
And I did what you could not.
My eyes were never closed.
My eyes were never closed.

Some wretch inside me fights for ground.
He sees allies all around,
And no reason he can't ...
Win.

Sometimes I lie down when I'm spent
And stare up at the firmament.
I wonder if "escape" is the right word.
Why rush to get back to a place
Where dreams are spoken but ignored?
At least down here I know my dreams aren't heard.

I am in the throes,
And if I have hit new lows,
Then let the lid be sealed.
We're on a level field.
I spat back and fought,
And I did what you could not.
My eyes were never closed.
My eyes were never closed.

(Music and lyrics by Kenley Young. All rights reserved.)

Seen and Discovered

It's like I birthed an industry--
Blaming every sinner here, save me.
I know I threw the switch, I gave the order.
The sticky guilt is withering.
I tried to smash it all to smithereens.
Maybe you came up short; I came up shorter.

I've seen enough to know that no one's clean.
That much was blue/red on your screen.
I've seen all roads I take start from that night,
But I've discovered I'm no light.
I've discovered I'm no light.

I was in a foreign realm,
Neither by my guns nor at the helm.
And in some perverse way, that was a kindness.
That night I drove home speeding--
My knuckles and my spirit bleeding.
Was coming back just one more act of blindness?

I see I'm young, but then I've seen so much.
And I have made that act my crutch.
I've seen some beasts that have me fit to burst,
But I've discovered I'm the worst.
I've discovered I'm the worst.

Since there are worse things in this world to breed than fear--
Since I was flailing and since grief was gauche that year--
Since it feels better to lash out than sit back down,
I slouched right back to town.

I see I'm young, but then I've seen so much.
And I have made that act my crutch.
I've seen some beasts that have me fit to burst,
But I've discovered I'm the worst.
I've discovered I'm the worst.

(Music and lyrics by Kenley Young. All rights reserved.)

School's back in, sucka.

And Pint Night at Delaney's is always the best gauge. It was packed to the gills last night, which made it really warm inside. And whenever Patrick and I would take a break from playing, I'd walk off stage to find a big sweat stain on my shirt where my guitar had been. I know, right? Gross.

But still fun. Initially, the crowd was kinda dead and unresponsive, at least through the first five songs or so. But "I Want You to Want Me" proved to be the turning point. ("Who can forget the charisma of Rick Nielsen or the magnetism of Robin Zander? What about the tunes?") From then on, the crowd sang along with every chorus they knew. It was so crowded that at times it drowned out the PA.

We got the occasional bad request (Alice in Chains, Bad Company, etc., which we dutifully performed), and I had to make it clear as usual that the stage area was a "Freebird"-free zone. But overall, the customers were polite and generous. I tell ya, if I could score a gig like Delaney's four or five times a week, I'd quit my real job in a heartbeat.

I didn't always think that way.

There was a time when I never would have even considered playing cover music for a living. I looked down my nose at those kinds of bands, thinking either they weren't talented enough to write and play their own music, they couldn't cut it as original artists, or they just simply had poor taste in music.

But as I've gotten a little older, having played rock music in some form for about 12 years now, I realize that The Dave Matthews Cover Bands of the world are living the dream. Seriously. No sarcasm intended. I mean, they're playing music for a living. That's more than most failed rock bands can say for themselves. These bands might not have "made it," might not have had a radio hit, might not have had success with their own material. Most bands don't. It's freakin' hard out there for a pimp.

But cover artists find a way to make it work. Some make more money at one gig than I make in a month. They are their own bosses, and they get to drink on the job. And I'll say it again: They are able to make a living playing music.

That's pretty incredible. Even if you're playing "Freebird" every night.

But some lines even I won't cross.

(I kind of cobbled these lyrics together from an old poem I wrote a few years ago. As I was writing the melody, I realized the chorus progression fit perfectly with the poem's rhyme pattern. Normally, it doesn't work that way. Normally, I have to create the melody first and then write words that will fit. So this was a cool experiment for me.)

My Armor, My Mercy

Beware of vultures bearing gifts,
And mind the lookouts we can take in shifts.
We'll swallow those who get too close
And learn to join the side that pays the most.

The minute that I lay my armor down,
Someone's gonna turn to me and say,
"The man I knew would've never let me drown."
And I will have to turn that friend away.

There is no right, there is no wrong.
There's only pain for those who wait too long.
Go back to bed; I'll rescue you
When I'm sure it's convenient for me to.

The minute that I lay my armor down,
Someone's gonna turn on me and say,
"The old you would have never let me drown."
And I will have to turn that friend away.

My mercy,
It deserts me sometimes.

There's always right, there's always wrong.
The catch is I'm not one to play along.
Give me fuel to get things done,
And I will cast my lot with anyone.

The minute that I lay my armor down,
Someone's gonna turn on me and say,
"The man I knew would've never let me drown,"
And I'm gonna have to turn that friend away.

My mercy,
It deserts me sometimes.

(Music and lyrics by Kenley Young. All rights reserved)

After many moons, the final mixes of our demo are in our hands ... for the most part. There's still a little tweaking to be done on one song, but for all intents and purposes, the tunes are done. Two of those final mixes can be found right here on our MySpace profile. I will get them up on our Web site -- www.howtovanish.net -- very shortly.

The best thing about this news is that I finally was able to join TAXI, the independent online A&R service. Here's the deal: You join TAXI for a fee, and then you get access to specific lists of what record companies, films and studios are looking for. For instance, a label will say it's looking for a pop/rock band with a sound in the vein of The Killers or OK Go. And so you submit your demo. But by being a TAXI member, you're not sending in unsolicited material. They represent you, in effect, and they screen all submissions. So some submissions get forwarded to the labels, who have come to trust TAXI's judgment. It's a pretty successful formula. Just ask Columbia's own Crossfade (formerly Sugardaddy Superstar).

So we'll see what, if anything, develops. I was encouraged after I attended a demo critique at the Atlantis Music Showcase in Atlanta last month. I sat down for a 15-minute session with a three-member panel. They had good things and bad things to say, so I left feeling a little unfulfilled. But a few days later, I got an e-mail from one of the panel members, saying she dug a lot about the demo and that it had promise. She also happens to do some work with TAXI, so it just seemed like another sign that I ought to join up.

As I said, you can hear two of the completed demo songs here on MySpace, and if you want to find downloadable versions, you can purchase them from www.broadjam.com for 99 cents, the same way you'd do on iTunes.

That's all for now.

We're getting ready for our Nov. 16 headlining gig at Art Bar, and today was our first rehearsal with John Stout on drums. I'm pleased to say it went swimmingly, just as I surmised. John picked up the songs as easily as I pick up beer steins, and everything seemed to flow smoothly.

We're debuting a brand-spankin' new song at the show called "My Armor, My Mercy." I'll post the lyrics here later. I've played it once before at an acoustic gig, but this will be its first electric treatment.

This may be the last How to Vanish show for a while, as everyone is leaving town shortly. Bass player Geoff has technically already left and is courageously driving back and forth from Augusta for this gig. Drummer Robbie left a couple of months back for Texas, and guitarist Patrick is headed for Alabama for a professorship gig.

So that just leaves little ol' me, again. Was it something I said?

Am I too much of a taskmaster? Do I have B.O.? You'd tell me, guys, right?

Right?

In any case, the plan is to keep playing music in some way, shape or form, either with another new lineup or all by my lonesome. More details when I know them.

Peace out.

Something pretty surreal happened to me last night at our Delaney's gig. We were in the final stages of our final set, when a drunken patron ambled up to the stage and said he'd pay me $50 if I let him get on stage to sing "Betterman," by Pearl Jam.

No matter that we'd already played that song earlier. For $50, I'll let pretty much anybody have the stage, and I'll even sing backup.

Well, I wasn't really prepared for just how horrible this rendition would be. Patrick and I struggled just to keep up with him because he didn't really seem to grasp the whole verse/chorus/verse/chorus thing.

Anyway, the song mercifully ended, and he let out a few more unsolicited Eddie Vedder-like yelps and screams. And then he left the stage.

Only after we had finished playing for the night did I find out the truth: This drunken patron is a co-star in the Kevin Bacon flick "Death Sentence" that's filming right here in Columbia. Before this film, his biggest role so far was starring opposite Mark Wahlberg in "Four Brothers," directed by John Singleton.

Just to check things out for myself, I asked the guy for his name, and he told me it was Garrett. Armed with this knowledge, I visited Internet Movie Database (imdb.com) and, sure enough, I found him. Check the link below:

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1330560/

So Garrett, if you ever happen to find this posting while Googling yourself, I just want to thank you for giving me a brush with stardom in little ol' Columbia, South Cackalacky. It was a pleasure, and you seemed very nice and down to earth. Hollywood could use more people like you. Come by and sing with us any time you want while you're in town.

But, technically, you do still owe me $50.


 

"Drive," by The Cars. Man, I love that song.

A top 100 song, I think.

I felt like Friday's show at The Red Tub with fellow singer/songwriter and Georgetown native Matt Williams was a fine success.

We drew a fairly large and diverse crowd, and for the most part it seemed like people were really listening to the music.

Matt and I are kinda coming from different musical directions and working toward different goals, but good songwriting is good songwriting, no matter the idiom. Matt's been touring for more than a year now, and it shows. He's become a seasoned performer who's at ease on stage and knows how to converse with the audience and how to tell a story with his music. It's always a pleasure to share the stage with him, and I hope we'll be able to do it again soon.

I got to play some material that normally doesn't get showcased with How to Vanish, and most of it got a good response. I played some older Fling songs like "No More Than Enough," as well as some solo stuff that not too many people have heard, like "When His Hands Are Touching You" and "Before the War." And I threw in some How to Vanish fare for good measure, including "Turn Me" and the relatively new "Seen and Discovered."

I wanted to perform at least one song together with Matt, and we actually got to do three. Well, really more like one big song. We played the Beatles' "Abbey Road" trifecta of "Mean Mr. Mustard," "Polythene Pam" and "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window." It was a show-stopper, quite literally, because we closed with it.

Maybe next time we'll try to finish out the album.