To be quite honest, I never thought I would see this day come. But sometimes life takes a twist or a turn somewhere and affects the thing you love the most: your passion, your life's blood...your band. It is in fact my very passion for the music of Match Party that has brought me to the decision I'm addressing. As of earlier this week, I am no longer performing behind the Match Party drum kit. I cannot dedicate the efforts and consideration it deserves to it anymore, and therefore, I refuse to continue at any less than 1000%. I'm not writing this blog from a viewpoint of sadness, however. While the temporary situation and surrounding emotions are sprinkled with sadness, I have nothing but wonderful things to say about my experience as a whole.

The other members of the band know how much I've appreciated my time with them. They would see it week in and week out as we wrote, rehearsed, and rocked. This band will always be a piece and a part of me, even as I stand in front of the stage at future shows instead of the back. Adrian, Aris, I love you very much.

I would like to thank Rich Sarnicola and Project IO Studios for taking a chance with us collectively to harness one of the best learning and growing experiences we've ever had recording We Can Go Where We Wish. That studio would also give us the most intimate listening party I think a band has ever had anywhere, and ironically enough, our final practice.

In order of their respective time period of membership in Match Party, I'd like to thank Oleg, Joe, Pete, Denise, Steve, and Red for their contributions and added flavors to the Match Party sound over the years. All of your input was cherished and respected, and I feel we all grew as people and friends through music-making. And speaking of added flavors...

...that brings me to the Match Party fanbase. That's a word I feel funny even using but is applicable when describing an audience. What I loved about our audience was that, on top of your undying support for almost a decade with this lineup and 11 years for me personally, beyond that, you were and are our tried and true "Circle Of Friends." High school reunions that were the furthest thing from Disney brainwashing scams would occur at Match Party shows, show after show after show. They kept us connected...friendship through music. So, at the risk of sounding hokey and cliche (neither of which I am, just so you know), thank you from the bottom of my heart, my mind, and my sticks for giving me the best decade of my life, a piece of time that will forever remain frozen "In Time" that I can lay claim to now as the best even though I have plenty of years left in me. Out of respect for each and every person that has been a part of our audience, this is one gargantuan and all-encompassing THANK YOU. I do not want to risk omitting a name from this list of many, many people. Remember, Match Party is NOT a retired band...come support them with me as soon as they take the stage again.

After a third of my life, two amazing records, over 50 shows, over 50 songs, a quarterfinal spot in a national competition, close to 500 rehearsals, from the chance to play anywhere from Maxwell's to backyard barbeques and the chance to get so angry at a promoter that I'd throw my own equipment off the stage piece by piece, I can say without hesitation that I will never regret any of these "Moments." I thank everyone that has ever paid at the door and given the doorperson our name, everyone that's ever snapped a picture, everyone that's ever given us applause and attention, and everyone that let us do what we did the only way we knew how to do it: with heart, with pride, with love, with honor, with instruments and feelings, and with life itself.

In closing, I would like to direct you to a link of my favorite Match Party performance footage, caught on tape by our dear friend, the late Melinda Davila. Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space. (Sorry, I couldn't resist. Whoever catches that reference, kudos to you.) What I really meant to say was, ladies and gentlemen, the greatest power that Match Party was ever able to create: the incredibly heartfelt, forget about life for five minutes, let's scream it for everyone to hear...the "Swing"-a-long.

Thank you all so very, very much. I love you.

Shawn Corby
Drummer, Match Party (1997-2008)

I feel like you tried to talk to me today. I've heard U2's "With Or Without You" on the radio, at home, in bars, loudly and frequently. You were there with me when that song was the soundtrack to five minutes of transcendence, as we came to grips with the roles we were meant to play in each other's lives. We never went backward after that night...that song always makes me miss you; today, it did a number. While I do remember the joy every one of your breaths brought me, even during our little confusing spell, I still have trouble with you not being around anymore. I'm sure I always will. To quote the  survey you took and posted, specifically, a question revolving around memories, "I don't miss any. I still have my memories." I read these things saying "you will die at 64" and "in my sleep at 88," and think, what the fuck did you ever do? I can only imagine what else you would've gotten accomplished, what wacky stories you'd have for me this time around on the phone, what movie you'd want to watch next, what game we'd invent at the diner. Well, if you can hear me on the other end of wherever you called me from earlier today, this is just to let you know that I got the message. Thanks for reaching out. You were always so tremendous at that. I miss you. I love you. I'll never forget you.             

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN2VqFPNS8w

This video is the greatest. Catchy as fuck too. Indulge, people. Trust me.

This past weekend, I attended WrestleMania 24 in Orlando, Florida. I was one of the 74,635 people in attendance at the Citrus Bowl (which has no parking lot...just a heads-up should you decide to visit it yourself someday), ready for the WWE’s biggest show of the year. It had been three years since my last Mania, and man, was it worth the wait. I witnessed history that night, as Ric Flair put his 36-year career on the line against Shawn Michaels, the wrestler Flair handpicked to bring out the best in himself. On any other night, Michaels is my favorite wrestler. That was not the case on Sunday night, March 30.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, wrestling’s scripted, I know. Scripted does not exactly mean fake, though. And as far as Flair/Michaels, the handpicked part of the story blurs the line between script and reality. There is a respect level unmatched by any other sport in pro wrestling. Fans and wrestlers alike remember what sacrifices these performers make day in and day out, making their own travel arrangements to get to their matches around the world on a capped salary with a cut of merchandise sales. They make an absurdly smaller amount of money than other pro sports players, and don’t really care. Their passion lies in their work...getting paid for their passion is merely a bonus.

Flair was the first ever active wrestler to be inducted into the Hall of Fame, which occurred the night before. I was there in person for it all, watching the man burst into tears multiple times as he thanked each and every person that has helped him in some way throughout his career. Ninety minutes later, he had to go, only because they needed to edit the footage down for a TV broadcast that evening. I think he would still be there thanking people and would have missed his match at Mania. He was that genuine in his appreciation for those that took the 36-year ride with him. Not once did he brag about his accomplishments. Not once. He recognized that they all required at least one other person, namely, an in-ring opponent, in order to become a reality.

Everyone that watches wrestling pretty much knew that Flair was building up for a send-off. He is just shy of his 60th birthday. He wanted to lose in a match in an area that gave him one of his first chances to shine all those years ago in local Florida territories. Wrestling brands used to be separated by territory until Vince McMahon of the WWE had a global vision, which is good and bad in its own ways. That’s not what I’m here to talk about. He wanted to bow out gracefully and put on a performance that people half his age could be blown away by. So he picked Shawn Michaels. No good guy/bad guy storyline, no grudge match, none of that. One of Michaels’ monikers is "Mr. WrestleMania." Flair wanted him to prove it, and wanted to prove to himself that he could still put up the fight of his life after all these years. The Citrus Bowl was not disappointed in the efforts of these men.

The match of almost 30 minutes included Michaels missing a moonsault off the center ring rope to the outside announce table. These tables are kind of designed to collapse beneath wrestlers as they go thorough them in high spots of matches. Well, this table didn’t cooperate, and Michaels folded like an accordion on the arena floor after only five minutes of action. He toughed it out as he always does. Michaels and Flair both have a history of bad back injuries. Flair broke his back in a plane crash in 1975 that supposedly ended his career. Sixteen world titles and 33 years later, Flair seems to disagree. Michaels was out of in-ring action for almost four years after major back surgery but still gave Steve Austin, and wrestling fans, one of the best efforts of his career at WrestleMania 14. Watch the match, you can see the pain he is fighting through. Flair kept up with Michaels every step of the way, even executing a top rope high cross-body of his own. They locked each other in lengthy submission holds, both regular and inverted figure-four leglocks. In the end, it was Michaels’ superkick...well, three superkicks, that got the job done. I’ll never forget that last kick. You can see Michaels say, "I’m sorry. I love you," before delivering the blow. That was not scripted, I can tell you that. Neither were the tears in both men’s eyes after Flair’s final three-count. Michaels grabbed Flair’s head on the mat and told him something that only the two of them will ever know. They wept, then Michaels left, allowing Flair to bask in his farewell. I choked back tears of my own as the man kissed his family at ringside and took his final walk down that aisle as an active wrestler. Everyone in that building was chanting. "Thank you, Ric! Thank you, Ric!" Believe me, it was everyone. I was looking around me as it was happening. The rest of the card was extraordinary as well, but this match had so much history and emotion and reality tied into it, making it that much more special. I feel lucky to have been in the building for that, I truly do.

Back at my hotel room, I told my friends how sweet it would be if Flair appeared the next night on Raw to delievr a farewell speech. The next night, my wish was granted, and it was just as magical as the night before, if not moreso. After Flair thanked his fans and was ready to depart, HHH’s music hits and Flair receives a 20 minute good-bye from his peers that was organized by the locker room, unbeknownst to Flair. A friend of mine said he heard a Flair interview on the radio earlier in the day. Flair said he knew they had something planned for him but was told to stay away from the Amway Arena for most of the day so they could surprise him. Did they ever accomplish that mission. It was not only one of the most touching moments on a wrestling broadcast, it was one of the most touching moments of life that I’ve ever been privileged to witness. If you saw it, then you absolutely understand what I’m speaking of. Go to WWE’s website and watch the footage, wrestling fan or not. It will change your life.

While I’m sure that players on baseball and football teams love and respect each other, they would never go out of their way on live TV to do something like this. Well, not for less than $20 million, anyway. I bought a copy of the Orlando Sentinel newspaper before boarding my flight on Monday and was appalled by just about every "journalist’s" coverage of WrestleMania. The coverage was not backed up by any research whatsoever. One guy went out of his way to assure readers that he doesn’t buy into it throughout his entire article. Another called the wrestlers juiceballs, even going as far as to say that the steroid scandal in baseball is more acceptable because it’s a legitimate sport. He interviewed fans in the arena, quoting them all as saying they don’t care if the wrestlers are on ’roids as long as they’re entertained. What they were really saying is that they respect what these men and women do and do not care if their personal lives are a mess or drug-addled. They still show up and do their job because they love their job and their fans. This reporter obviously doesn’t know what happened to Jeff Hardy this past month, or how eleven or so wrestlers were suspended last year for failing drug tests. He’d rather just write down what the media already tells society about wrestling. He was a carbon copy critic that did no research to back up his argument. He also went out of his way to make us wrestling fans look moronic. I apologize for wanting more out of a sport that watching guys with sticks scratch themselves, spit snuff and occasionally hit a ball that’s thrown at them over a far away fence for a ludicrous sum of money. I like to be entertained, and that is in no way, shape or form entertaining. And that’s coming from a person who hit an inside the park homerun at a baseball game when he was nine years old. I do research, even hands-on sometimes, before I criticize things.

The best article was written by a gentleman who ordered the event on PPV. He was entertained, regardless of the underlying stories of steroids and scripts that most media forums exploit when covering wrestling. He got the point and respected the product for what it was without embarrassment. This event brought the town of Orlando an insane amount of revenue but these reporters are too proud to be wrestling fans. The way I see it, they’re too afraid to admit that, as a whole, wrestling is more "real" to its fans, or in general, than any other sport. One of these idiots even called the Big Show the Big House. Some research of the product, huh? How he got on the front page is anyone’s guess.

I hope each and every one of these journalists that performed absolutely no journalistic duties and, therefore, do not merit an ounce of respect for their recycled and unoriginal wording, happened to watch Raw when Flair said good-bye. And I hope that, whle they would never admit it in print, that they were affected by the genuine nature of the Nature Boy. They should be ashamed to collect paychecks for writing lies. They should go back to every movie theater they’ve ever watched a film at and ask for their money back, being that movies are, in essence, more fake than pro wrestling. Wrestlers are being themselves when the bell rings. I cannot say that about Tom Cruise or Katie Holmes when the camera is rolling. I’d be a liar, and I can’t be one of those. I don’t work at the Orlando Sentinel.

Thank you, Ric Flair. As a fan and as a person, thank you for the years of smiles you brought to my face and for the tears you brought to my eyes as you bid farewell to the sport of kings. It was an honor sharing it with you.

Shawn Corby
Cliffside Park, New Jersey              

I'm not one to normally send a mass email, unless the band is playing and I'm promoting, but I think you all should see this and show those you can show as well. It's an eye-opener, and I learned that lots of things I'd think as a joke to myself in passing may not be jokes. Like Sirsy says, "Make your own revolution." Start here. And remember, revolution doesn't have to be violent or harmful. This country was founded on the ideals of revolution, and those very ideals have been manipulated to stand for everything they aren't supposed to. Revolution has to be American, plain and simple. If you don't oppose this, and least do your potential, unborn children a favor. Don't have any. They don't deserve to be brought up within the confines of this lunacy. Let's do the right thing and care about what happens here when we're gone. Let's not be politicians. I am not a media member attempting to instill fear, but rather a hopeful citizen of a beautifully theorized country who gives more than a damn about having a heartbeat. I sincerely hope you do as well.

Love,
Shawn

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PpMdTmVMpo

Today is a special day for most as far as time-honored, American pastimes go. It's Super Bowl Sunday, and a hometown team is involved this year. Everyone is excited; the air is alive around here; the streets are buzzing with hope; bars, restaurants, and living rooms are filling up with diehard dreamers. And my mind could not be farther from any of the celebrating.

Last year at this time, one of the best friends I'll ever have in my life was overcome by tragedy. My friend, Melinda, who was in the Army, lost her life by way of a freak accident. A piece of bread from a sandwich tore a hole in her esophagus at a Super Bowl party and lodged itself there. People that were extremely qualified to perform CPR had no success in doing so. The lack of oxygen left a vibrant and unique woman with irreparable brain damage after sending her into a coma. Four days later, she was gone.

I know full well that a football game is not to blame here. Distinguishing between a party and the visions my mind has created based on this accident seems downright impossible, though. I can't be at a party making sure everyone is chewing their food a hundred times per bite. The Super Bowl has honestly never meant anything to me, and it sucks that it does now for all the wrong reasons.

A ray of hope that blasted through all of life's garbage was silenced without warning when Melinda had her accident. She and I were brother and sister because of what we shared as friends. She got me so well, it was uncanny. And she could do so whether we went a week or a year without speaking. Her guts, spontaneity, and raw emotions were things I deeply admired. I still do as I look at her picture right now, thinking about how ridiculous it is that she is in an Army outfit. She got tired of paying rent and of being sedentary, so she joined the Army. When she wanted change, she sure as fuck went after obtaining it. Our all-nighters at diners were some of my favorite moments with a person. We made a checkers set out of napkins and placemats once. We'd park and listen to albums from start to finish. The last time I saw her, she filmed a Match Party show and we watched movie after movie at my apartment. I could talk to her about women...she liked women more than I did. It is possible to be in love with a friend and simply remain friends. I should not be speaking of her in retrospect, and it will never make sense that I have to do so.

She was the first of four people I knew who passed away in 2007. Every one of those people were younger than I am. None of their passings are understood. I lost Big Daddy (Frank) at the end of 2005...he was younger as well. At least with elderly people, there are warning signs and opportunities to make peace with losing them as you're losing them. How do you rationalize five deaths within your group of peers before the age of 30? You don't, plain and simple.

I'm not here to bitch about them being gone, though it may have seemed that way up until this sentence. I don't miss them because they're gone; I miss them because of who they should have been to the world...and were to me. I don't miss Frank because he was drinking while on pain medication. I don't miss Melinda because she choked. I don't miss Anthony because he was senselessly murdered. I don't miss Joel because he had a seizure in his sleep. I don't miss Steven because his life overcame him. I miss all of them for the same reason. They were five of the single most liveliest bunch of human beings that any other human being could ever encounter. They were different, special, refreshing, real. They were what those who step on others on a daily basis without conscience should aspire to be and wish they were. They didn't give a shit about what the world thought of them. They possessed these qualities long before they passed away, and they still do. I would have nothing to say if they didn't.

Today I grieve over what Melinda and my other friends have left me longing for: their voices, their laughter, their tears, their touch, their humanity. Their lives. In grief, I celebrate the enrichment their lives have lended to my own. They are all inspirational building blocks to my life's story. If you have taken the time to read this, I hope somehow that they have become a part of your life as well.

Next time I see you all, we're going to have one sick fucking party. Mark my words. May my love reach each of you as you all show your love through me today and always.        

        

Hey everyone. First and foremost, we would like to thank all of you who were able to readjust your schedules and make it to our Bodog Battle show last night. You all deserve a round of applause for turning up the volume from off the stage (and on as well with that beautiful "Swing"-along!!), and for making our night truly special. As you've heard by now, the extremely tough competition came down to two bands, and we were not picked. But that doesn't mean it's over! A third band will be selected via a Wildcard voting process through Bodog's website. EXTREMELY IMPORTANT: THIS IS ALL IN THE HANDS OF MATCH PARTY'S SUPPORTERS! YOU CAN VOTE ONCE EVERY 24 HOURS, AND VOTING ENDS ON MONDAY, DECEMBER 17TH AT MIDNIGHT. This competition has been a great thing so far, and we'd love to keep going and meeting more talented musicians that respect what the others are trying to accomplish. AND WE ABSOLUTELY CANNOT DO THAT WITHOUT YOU ALL! Please take a few minutes out of your day to help us continue on with Bodog! Some of you are already registered with Bodog and have been voting, but for those who haven't, please follow the link below. Once there, click the vote button next to our name, then click "Fan Signup" and follow the instructions. As always, Match Party appreciates and loves what you do for us! Thanks everybody!

Match Party
VOTE NOW!!

Hey all. It looks like the show originally scheduled for December 8th at Blender (Gramercy) Theater has ben moved to to Monday, December 10th at the Lion's Den on Sullivan Street in NYC. Same time, same deal with the tickets, although we're still waiting to find out if we can sell the old set of tickets or if we need new ones. We shall keep you posted. Keep the 10th of Decmebr open, not the 8th, for the Bodog Battle. Thanks in advance for the support. Get tickets soon!

Shawn
     

Man...this blows. Yet another day at home from a great job because of an awful cold. I don't know how my coworker Pam worked through this if she felt this bad. I must say. she's pretty tough. I know I'm bitching, but that's what sick people do, and you know what? I feel that sick folks have the right to do so. We don't ask for this. Colds and injuries and pain and all that crap make no sense.  Stupid bodies breaking down even though we take care of them. I wonder why I live in this area sometimes, though I cannot fahom that there are people out there who don't experience four seasons in a year or know what snow looks like. I can't believe I'm typing about snow right now. Anyone else think this barrage of Christmas commercials is a bit much this early in the season? I liked it when I was little and the presents were the exciting part. That part drives me fucking crazy now, and makes as much sense as this bastard of a cold that is making my computer screen look blurry. I need to go check if I'm drooling on myself. I hate whining and complaining, I really do, but there are times when you just have to. So, I'll sign off with this for everyone to think about: I just watched "The Price Is Right" (without Bob Barker!! Drew Carey's funny and all, but it's definitely strange) and one of the prizes in the final Showcase Showdown was a giant American flag. Are you serious? Shouldn't it be up to YOU and you alone if you want to own one and be patriotic or whatever? I'll be patriotic by saying that sucks. So do Rockettes commercials and tissues when your nose is falling off of your face. I should be writing cover letters right now. That rant felt nice, though. I'm supposed to go see Jimmy Eat World in the city tonight, but I'm having a problem standing to take a whiz. Awesome! OK, I'm seriously done now. Thanks for reading.