I feel I must come clean with something in my past. For the last 4 months I have been posting blogs to a different location with I must admit, a somewhat guilty conscience. It's not that I didn't WANT to tell you, it's just that I was afraid. I didn't think you'd understand. You see, I've been an intern at an interactive design agency in town for four months and counting. It's sad to admit that music, in fact, is not making me too much money and I must supplement with other work. I'm crossing my fingers for the day when that happens, but for now, that day includes a job. Normally my mantra is what happens at the day job stays at the day job. I want us to have a fresh start and nothing between us. So here: take it, read it. It's not much, but it's all I have to offer right now:

http://www.concessionsofanintern.blogspot.com/

I love you,
Evan

First I should admit to the liking of an occasional conspiracy theory, here and there, now and then. Second (because the MLA handbook says you have to have one), here is a strange coincidence that I managed to put together all by myself, with no help from the media.

Concerning the tragic death of the all-too-young Heath Ledger, what is most intriguing is the appearance of his final character role, the Joker. I couldn't help but feel like I've seen this character before. Possibly a dream, or worse, reality. Then it struck me that a movie not too long ago a similar tragedy occurred with similar strangeness surrounding it.

If you recall, the 1994 release, The Crow you should remember a familiar make-up covered character-noir. Brandon Lee (son of famed martial artist/movie star, Bruce Lee) took on this dark role, depicting a ghost-in-purgatory trying to avenge his own death. This is not unlike if Tim Burton directed Ghost and cast Johnny Depp instead of Patrick Swayze. To get to the point, Brandon Lee dies tragically from a gun that was supposedly firing blanks, but clearly it wasn't.

In the same vein, as most of you know, Heath Ledger died just post filming The Dark Knight where he reinvents the role of The Joker. A much darker, sinister Joker from ones past and a much darker role than Ledger had ever played. What is most surprising is the similar make-up direction and the similar attitude. And coincidentally, they both dies at age 28.












Sincerely,
Sherlock McHugh

I was thinking- nay, pondering over how great it feels to be truly excited about something. Not the kind of mock euphoria you get when your favorite show comes on. And certainly not the kind of manic grin you give when assuring a small talker that things are going well. I'm talking flat out joy, tearing up at the thought, don't know what to do with yourself, ready to take on the world kind of excitement. Hopefully we've all been there a time or two but just as mysteriously as it appears it can vanish like viewing a mirage a step too close. You want it back immediately but your not sure how to get there. I paid my excitement some attention the other day and realized one thing (at least) that floors me and propels me at the same time: great songwriting. Yes, I will agree that this is simple and generally universal, but also a rarity to be sure. I was listening back to Ryan Adams' Love is Hell and became immediately aware that I haven't paid enough attention to these lyrics that I seem to sing unconsciously. As a side note, yes, I sing in the car; most unashamedly and unabashed. If you see me singing in the car as so many do, feel free to laugh or point because it will most likely go unnoticed; end side note. As a songwriter, when I experience songwriting at the top tier I generally have the urge to rush home and write some heresy of my own to add to the ever-growing pile. Will it ever be heard, distinguished, or even loved? In the moment it doesn't really matter. I don't pretend to know how to write good songs and I'd never feel comfortable teaching some workshop that boasted good technique. This moot point will not, however, dissuade me in those moments of excitement and inspiration from rejoining the marathon of writers in search of their perfect song. A few other mentions in the affecting me category as of late are: David Wilcox and The Brilliant Inventions (the new songs are killer; expect great things)

So that's one of mine, but I wonder what makes all of you sing? (sing=live with passion)


See you soon,

evan

Everybody at one point or another searches themselves on the internet just to see what comes up. My results normally include an Evan McHugh that writes outdoor books from Australia. A recent addition to the search is this video. Notice the soundtrack and the rare knitting enthusiasm. Simply amazing.

Let me start at the very beginning.

I drove due to the lack of anyone knowing how to drive a stick anymore. To see Garrett Moore's rebuttal to my previous posting of reasons manual shifting could come in handy, even crucial, click HERE

Mobile: Given that this was on a Monday night, not a bad turnout. I was getting over three days of 101° fever the week before and didn't feel great leading up to the show. By then I was medicated with ibuprofen, robitussin, and some good local beer. Needless to say I didn't feel a thing. Met The Damnwells and Ari Hest; nervous, but tried to act cool. Some key friends/fans showed their faces and assured me it was not because of me. Got a hotel and the front desk made me prove I had played that night to give me a discount. It took a tired 20 minutes. I took much continental breakfast out of spite and hunger.

Birmingham: Workplay is a great venue! Good crowd came early for my set. Well, not specifically for my set, but they listened politely anyway. All I could see from the stage was little blue lights that looked like a regiment of fireflies standing in mid salute. I was told it sounded good. The Damnwells rocked my face off. Thanks to friends for letting me crash on a couch.

Nashville: Equally cool venue at The Mercy Lounge. As I played my set they experimented with the lights. I glowed some, then dimmed, then saw the whole audience, then saw no one, all in one song. I felt good about it, but then I was told the sound was terrible. Too much of everything I believe was the consensus. Thanks to Marissa for a leather couch that I stuck to all night, you're a doll. I love this town, possibility of moving there? We'll see.

Atlanta: Took a pre-show nap on my own couch; glorious. There was a wedding party/reunion concert upstairs before I went on which explains the elderly sightings. I played for them. I rocked hard. They broke hips. Very fun night indeed. Slept in my own bed.

Charleston: An off-beat venue to be sure. People were very nice, got some video footage. I might post some of it. Sold some CD's. I got smoked in darts by David. People bought me beers. I politely drank them. Slept on a floor. Happy to have slept on a floor.

I'm thinking at this point that I need to teach David (2nd leg tour manager) how to drive a stick. I'm restrained by a love for life and a fear of insurance companies. I drive on.

Charlotte: I did my best impression of metal/punk. Nobody bought it. Everyone said it sounded like Simon & Garfunkel; except without Garfunkel. Made a mental note to work on my impressions. I dominated Tekken 2 in the mini-arcade. Fire was not seen. Arcade Fire was, however, heard later that night. Covered Cathedrals for those Jump fans. Really it was for myself. Couldn't stay in town because of NASCAR. We got frightened and left that night for Greensboro. The Super 8 treated us kindly. Dave couldn't sleep because I stayed up watching Wedding Crashers.

This is the point where I break down and teach Dave to drive a stick. It was a short lesson in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He stalled many times and thought it to be fun.

Kill Devil Hills: The Outer Banks Brewing Station has food and beer that is scrumtualescent. I ate and ate and ate and drank and played and drank. More video was captured through a new-fangled motion capture device. It was sad to leave the guys, but good to know I'll see them again at some point. Thanks guys!



Thank You to everyone who came out!! I'll see you soon back in your town.

Evan

Let me take this second to publicly thank Ari Hest and The Damnwells for allowing me to tag along on the southeast portion of their tour. I'm headed up to sound check at Smith's Olde Bar here in Atlanta and I feel quite lucky to be able to watch two amazing bands play night in and night out. They are great people to know and have been more than accommodating to me. If you do not know who they are then go immediately to their pages and check them out:

Ari Hest
The Damnwells

In other news, I'll be performing at the Highlands Summerfest on Sat. June 2nd at 2:30ish. Can I just say (without clicking together some ruby slippers) that there's truly no place like home. Even if it's only for a night.

-Evan

Setting aside my endless longing for a morning americano from the neighborhood Starbucks (which is where I happen to be at this very moment), I am reminded that Birmingham, AL (2 of 7 stops) is pretty much just like home, but with 4 million less people and 2 million less Starbucks. It's not quite Europe but I will take it.

Did you ever ask a friend to come with you on a trip to ease the burden of driving only to realize an hour in that he can't drive a stick? Thank you Garrett. And a future thank you David. Let's just once and for all say everyone should learn to drive a stick. There are emergencies in life that call for this skill, which happens to be way easier than at once patting your head and rubbing your belly. It's the rubbing that always gets me. So aside from the aforementioned reason to program manual shifting into your repertoire here are some others that might come up:

1. Zombies are taking over. You have two options: be eaten or drive away in the first car you see.

2. Nuclear fallout. Gasoline rationing has turned into leather skinned chaps wearing leather skinned chaps (see Beyond Thunderdome) fighting in cage matches and Ford now seems to only make the 5 speed Focus with standard anti-tank armor and optional seat warmers. Advice: take the seat warmers; assless chaps can get a bit breezy.

3. Your new job as a Valet. Listen, buddy, don't park my car if you can't drive it. If I come out and see you pushing it towards me don't think just because you're sweating you get a tip.

4. Circus catastrophe. You're front row at Ringling Bros and despite your fear of clowns, 32 assorted red noses pile out of a car each tripping over the first one who caught his size 22 on the running board. 31 concussions later, all eyes are on you (because you're the closest) to the wreckage. Meanwhile, the ringmaster is being chased by a tiger who caught fire and a strongman screaming infidelities. Be a hero, conquer your fear of clowns, and get them to the hospital where other clowns will help cheer them up with the best medicine...amphetamines.

5. Smokey and the Bandit. Most likely, you'll never have a mustache quite like Burt Reynolds, but at least now you can drive like him.

6. Crime doesn't pay. At least not when you're a getaway car driver who just can't get into gear. "alright fellas, got to make it over this hill. Push on three!" Low speed chases almost always end badly.

7. Your the (moon) man. 2045. The new lunar colony has abolished automatic moon rovers for the reasons mentioned above. Don't get stuck hovering when the light turns blue (the new green) and chance getting literally mooned by teens; because it's not as funny as you remember it. And that space helmet is so last week. Faux paux indeed.

I think I proved my point. And with that I will say see you soon in a city near you. I'll be the one driving a stick.

Evan

As an update to my aforementioned goals for the 2007 year, I give you the status of said objectives:

1. Read More: or never. I have in fact read less than I did in High School during the Beowulf semester.

2. Watch less television: I have succeeded so far, but plan to be sucked in by such classics as The White Rapper Show, The Real Housewives of Orange County, reruns of Full House/America's Funniest Home Videos, and various religious programs boasting knowledge of the world's end.

3. Learn some new covers: in progress, though I will not reveal which ones so come to a show.

4. Work out: I bought some new dumbbells and got tired taking them from the store to my house.

5. Write daily: right. Just like I floss daily.

6. Grow taller: I haven't measure myself but the sky seems just about the same distance it used to be. Also I've avoided basketball hoops because they seem to hold over my head the fact that I'm white; literally, they hold it just out of reach over my head. Bastards.

7. Invent something: not sure if this counts, but I discovered a new way to dis-invent something. It involves proving once and for all that we don't need that product and/or service. For example, the other day I got a dental hygienist to admit that he/she doesn't floss regularly. This proves that floss is not necessary and therefore, not a valid product. There is a bill going to the floor (#414) later this year that states if someone dis-invents something, the said person will receive all monies that would have gone to that product for one year. After that time the public is free to spend their money elsewhere. I don't know if I'll make any money because inevitably it'll be the year that no one buys floss. I didn't buy any last year, did you?

8. Survive a round-house kick from Chuck Norris: Chuck has been busy cleaning up the state of Texas in rerun fashion, but I did run into a stop sign with my face due to a failure to look in front of me and failure to yield to an oncoming metal object; at least that's what the report said. I still maintain that the stop sign hit me. I seem to have come through it with no permanent injuries.

9. Clean my place: I did dust off my new dumbbells.

10. Put out a record: DONE!!!!!!!! As you might have seen the CD Release is Feb 28th at Eddie's Attic. I'm very excited about the way it turned out, including the artwork which was done by one badass designer that goes by Ryan Hoelting. Come out and celebrate the conclusion of my #10 New Year's Resolution. Bring everyone you know and pick up hitchhikers on the way there. Please spread the word about the record and let's get it out there! See you all soon.

-Evan

If one was apt enough to recommit themselves to the same thing each new year, it would be me. I'm what you'd call a sprinter; good for the short run, lousy for the long. Some of these are new to the list and some are oldies but goodies, as they say. So with no further gilding of the lily, and no more adieu, I present 2007 in list-form:

1. Read more. For my money there is no more interesting a read than the Bible. Further more, there are a few old Vonnegut paperbacks I've yet to crack, the final two books of Stephen King's The Dark Tower, Jack Cavanaugh's next in series- The Adversaries, more Sherlock Holmes' adventures, maybe a Chaucer, Swift, or Dumas; or any anything else that catches my fancy, but probably not anything on the best-seller lists (I think there's plenty of better stuff that is time-tested)

2. Watch less television. With the invention of tivo-like time savers I should be able to get in and out with rummaging through the rest of the garbage that goes with the few good programs; namely Lost, 24, Heroes, Who's line is it anyway? reruns, and pretty much anything on AMC or TCM.

3. Learn some new covers. I always have a running list of songs I'd like to do live at some point. Here's a list inside of a list to list a few:
a. Everybody Here Wants you, Jeff Buckley
b. Pink Moon or Northern Sky, Nick Drake
c. Abraham, Martin and John, Dion
d. While My Guitar Gently Weeps, The Beatles
c. Take me Home Again Kathleen, traditional Irish
d. Anything by the Smith's
*more to be added later, I'm open to suggestions.

4. Work out. Let's face facts here: I'm getting older, slower and uglier. Its time I started doing something to counter the effects of Newton's famous discovery and the reason I can't dunk. (or at least the main reason)

5. Write daily. This could include, but is not limited to songs, blogs, iambic pentameter, short stories, tag lines, novels, novellas, russian plays, lists of any kind (such as the seven dwarfs, places to go on a date, all the smurf names I can remember, degrees separating me from John Cusack, or possibly all the cars I've owned and since discarded in the last five years) left-handed, stream o' consciousness, letters, emails, thank you notes, and of course my signature (just in case)

6. Grow taller. This is subject to the appearances of miracles/acts of God for the purpose of me dunking and/or changing light bulbs easier.

7. Invent something. This is the year Brookstone goes down. I can feel it. I can feel it with my new and improved INTUITION® - "Now men can harness the power fomerly cornered by the female market! Turn that frustration into ammunition when you tell her what she's thinking and what she's going to do about it. Men shall never again fear those four little words, 'We need to talk'."

8. Survive a round-house kick to the face from Chuck Norris.

9. Clean my place regularly. This is an oldie, but a necessity. Two more loads of laundry and then my winter cleaning is at a close.

And finally...
10. PUT OUT A RECORD! I will do it if it kills me, I promise. We're close, this I also promise. You will like it, a third promise.


Happy New Year to all, and to all a good year!

Evan

I don't profess to know much about anything really. Having said that, I think I know a lot about how I don't remember people's names. I do remember faces. That's one talent. Its always around the holidays that you meet up with so many people and it drains you of any short term memory (except faces, for me).

Take for instance the show at Smith's on Sunday. (at this point I want to interject a thank you to all who came out and supported; I had so much fun and hope that you did as well) So I met a lot of people, then I met more people and forgot the first people's names and then I went to try and fix my zipper to my Mr. Rogers sweater (as mrs. manilow put so eloquently) and I forgot everyone's name except for my own and a handful of the seven dwarfs (I couldn't place bashful, but then I guess I never could). So as I desperately held onto dopey and sleepy I resorted to what most of you do when you forget a name. You pull out the "hey girl" and "what's up man" like you've gotten past that whole formal name thing. Maybe some of you even give people nicknames like "tomcat" or "scout" or "tall drink o' water"; anything to avoid acually using the name you can't think of anyway. I do the same, (except for the nickname thing because maybe your cat named tom just died, or you've never been the same after being dishonorably discharged from the boyscouts due to some incriminating evidence pointing to your use of a lighter instead of two sticks, or you're new memebr of AA and all you've had to drink are painfully tall glasses of water) so I wanted to address the issue should there be one in the future.

I want to remember your name, I do. Its just that my mind tells me that your name is Bill two seconds after you tell me its Nick. I don't mean it. It would be better if you placed more emphasis on the fact that I remember your face than what you name is (I will dodge and weave around your name anyway). Maybe we should all where nametags? Or you should, assuming you know who the guitarslinger is you've gone to see. I'll wear one if you will. I think this will help not only me but you'll feel better about going to talk to that person you've been eying all night. Please continue to introduce yourself and I will remember eventually.

thanks, evan