David Beach's Blog

The Michael Jackson Letters #3 (RE: MJ)

As you might know I've been having a correspondence with Michael Jackson (King of Pop) over several months leading up to his recent and untimely death. I can't express how saddened I am to know that he has passed. It was a shock and a disappointment. For I felt that he and I were close to coming to an understanding about music, life, and the follies of following your heart. Now Michael knows the answer to that ultimate question. And we're all left to wonder...

I have been slow to post the letters. I've been recovering from lung cancer and the peremptory surgery and chemotherapy. So far I have posted my original letter to Michael (which was really a shot in the dark-- I never thought he'd get it, let alone reply.)  Then I posted Michael's first letter to me. I wrote him back just as soon as I received his unexpected dispatch. It is presented unedited below. I have several more letters back and forth as we had started to become familiar, but I'm not sure when I will post them given the sensitivity to current events. We shall see...

For your reference: Letter number 1 (to Michael) -  Letter number 2 ( from Michael)

Mr. Michael Jackson
No Longer Neverland, CA
Rented Brentwood Mansion, Brentwood, CA

Dear Mr. Jackson

Thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to reply to my letter! Honestly I didn't think it would get to you. It always seems that you're on the move.  You must have good people or family around. Please give them my regards. After re-reading my first letter to you, I'm now surprised that you considered it at all. I think in my zeal to contact you, I tried too hard to impress. I apologize for my presumptuousness.

I appreciate you keeping my friend "Pinter" in your thoughts. He was a very special friend to me. I work every day to keep his memory from fading. Hold me closer tiny bronco buster!

I think your idea of an Osmonds reunion tour is fantastic! I'm not familiar with how to reach them or Jimmy specifically, but I'll give it a try. Do they have an Osmond Theater in Branson? If not, they should.

I have to be honest, before my first letter to you, I hadn't thought of you in years. I'm not one to follow publicity stunts or scandals. I do love music though and felt that the world needed to hear from Michael Jackson again, but not in the expected manner of flash pots, fans, and grand precision. Hence this correspondence.  However since my first letter, an unusual memory from my youth has been jarred back into my consciousness. And it's a memory of you.

It was the spring of 1983 and my family was in Los Angeles to visit relatives and to take in the sites. My great aunt and uncle lived in Culver City. Aunt Billie and Uncle Roger. They were wonderful and eccentric people. They ran a small art supply store and often worked with MGM Studios to supply their art department. My Aunt was a former beauty and would fill my head with stories of movie stars and glamor, while my uncle would teach me about the art of business and the business of art. It was a rare ocassion to see them, as they never left the area. My uncle wouldn't fly (after being a pilot in WWII), never drove on freeways, and only made right turns. My aunt seemed content in living her version of the Hollywood life. Their neighbor's son wrote the theme song to CHiPs!

Now I don't remember the particulars of what led up to the event I'm about to describe, so you'll have to imagine that my family somehow found ourselves in a state of serious peril. Earlier that day my father rented a car to get us around town. It was a green Renault made of tin and yarn. The cheapest one on the lot. Late in the day, we were driving from someplace to somewhere else on the 405 highway. The car had been failing all day-- stalling, clunking, sputtering, and toiling. I don't think it could go more than 35 miles per hour. This Renault was a shitty car, if you'll excuse my French.

As we approached the steep incline on the 405 leading out of the valley and into the better parts of LA (?), the feeling of dread and doubt was thick. Up we went, unsure of every moment. Would this shitty car make it? No. Sure enough, halfway up, the car stalled in the middle lane of the five lane freeway. My father swore like I've never heard in my life as he repeatedly tried to restart the car. My mother prayed. I mean really prayed. She prayed hard. My young sister was crying and I was peeking out the back window wondering when someone was going to ram us and end it all. Cars were speeding past, blaring horns, swerving out of our way. We were stuck. We couldn't get out to push... we couldn't abandon ship.

Suddenly out of nowhere a gleaming gold Cadillac came up behind us and stopped. It was driven by what appeared to be an African American woman in sunglasses. This woman indicated that she would push us to the shoulder of the highway. She was waving her arms all about and pointing. My father was confused by the glint but managed to put the car in neutral and release the brake. The gilded grill of the Cadillac eased its way up to the rear of the Renault and pushed the car out of harms way. Then she drove off. As quickly as she appeared, she sped away in a shiny blur.

An angel! My mother was convinced. An angel from heaven!

We were bewildered.

Soon enough the CHP (CHiPs!) and a tow-truck arrived and we set off to safety. We were still pretty upset in the truck. All four of us and the driver crammed on that bench seat. The clip board sliding across the dash as we pulled off the freeway. My dad still steaming, my mother thanking God, my sister wiping tears away, and me crushed against the passenger side door. The driver took a look at us.

"Hey! You all want to see Michael Jackson's house? It's right around here. It won't be more than a minute. You wanna see Michael Jackson's house don't ya kids?"

My sister and I peered up at him... unsure about the offer. Was this guy going to kidnap and murder us? Tie us up and peel our skin off? Our defences were down. We agreed.

Soon enough we wound our way through the tree-lined streets of what I believe was Brentwood. A tow-truck hauling a shitty Renault passing mansion after mansion. We turned a tight corner and eased up to a huge gate connected to an ivy covered brick wall surrounding a property. Past the gate was a brick or stone driveway leading up to a very large dark brick home with cut antique glass windows and a grand entrance.

"Well kids, that there is Michael Jackson's place. He lives in that big house all alone except for when Brooke Shields or Quincy Jones comes by for a visit."

I rolled down the window and strained my neck to get a better view. And as we started to drive away, I saw it. Parked back up the driveway... a gleaming gold Cadillac. THE gleaming gold Cadillac! I didn't say a word. I didn't want to spoil my mother's faith. But I knew right then and there that Michael Jackson saved my life. You, sir, saved my family's life.

I wonder if you remember that day? Why were you out driving? Why did you decide to help us? Do you remember? I'd love to know.

Thank you Mr. Jackson. I need to say that. Thank you for going out of your way to help some strangers. You were the Samaritan coming to our aid when others passed us by. You were my mother's angel. Thank you.

I hope this letter finds you well and this story gives you some kind of joy. I had totally forgotten about it myself until I decided to start writing you. I feel there's a reason for these letters. I don't think we have found it yet, but perhaps we're getting closer. And for now I remain...

Your grateful stranger,

David Beach
Santa Cruz, CA

The Michael Jackson Letters #2

I've decided to post the second Michael Jackson letter. I've been a little distracted, but I thought I'd might as well get this out. 

This letter is a reply from Mr. Jackson to the original letter I sent to him last year. It came exactly two week after I sent the original. This letter can be found somewhere on this blog but it's also here.

I will also post my reply a little later as this continues to be an ongoing correspondence. 

Mr. David Beach
Santa Cruz, CA

Dear Mr. Beach

Thank you for the letter that you sent. I received it in my suite in Dubai and it was also forwarded to me from The Neverland Valley Ranch. The weeds at the ranch have now grown knee high and I am very sad about that. There are no weeds in the desert.

Please let me express my condolences about your friend Jimmy. We lost so many friends on that terrible day of September 11. Jimmy will not be forgotten. Donny and Marie have a brother named Jimmy. He was always my favorite Osmond. His cheeks are like shiny red apples.

You mentioned tigers and goblins and many things in your letter. I like tigers but I don't know any goblins. They both can be terrifying. They both can eat your face as I've seen this happen in Las Vegas. 

Mr. Beach, children are very important to me. Children are more important to me than anything else in the whole world! Children are always the same size, they are always child-size. They have little arms that are chubby. I like how sometimes when you play chase, they are slower than bigger people. It's because their legs are also smaller, Jimmy. Children are like little adults. They also smell like bubblegum and popcorn and Woolworth's. And rubber.

I would like to hear more about your ideas. I'm always looking for ideas about my music. I have been speaking with many people about this. Have you heard of scat? Of scatting? This is one idea I am considering.

Jimmy, when will you be doing an Osmond family reunion tour? I would very much like to see this. I think many people in Dubai and Las Vegas would like to see this too. You could all wear matching sweaters and bow ties. Rainbows! 

Sincerely, 
MJ

The Michael Jackson Letters

It all started with an innocent letter.

I just thought I would write Michael Jackson a letter and offer him some advice, what happened next is still hard for me to believe. Here is the first letter. I'll post the replies and the ongoing correspondence over the next few weeks. enjoy??

Mr. Michael Jackson
Not Neverland, CA
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Giant Laser Eyed Robot Thing, Las Vegas, NV

Dear Mr. Jackson,

I am a big fan. But not really... eh.

Let me explain. I like the ABC Michael Jackson, Off The Wall Michael Jackson, and some of Thriller Michael Jackson. I am not a fan of the monkey carrying Michael Jackson. However, I have never knowingly called you "wacko-jacko".

Michael let me be frank, you need a makeover. And not some nipping, tucking, smoothing, and peeling kind of thing. I'm talking about a musical makeover. Hey let's face it, you're not a kid anymore. Am I right? You're like 50 or something. It's okay to get older. Everybody does it. Even Peter Pan got older in that Steven Spielberg version with the creepy lost boys and the precocious Julia Roberts. You don't have to dance the same as you used to. No more moonwalking for you!

I'd like to suggest a couple of ideas on how to resurrect your career. First let me tell you about a friend of mine.

This friend (let's call him "Pinter McGee") is three feet tall. Pinter is a three foot tall professional rodeo cowboy on the OshKosh B'Gosh Lil' Bronco Buster ProRodeo Tour. He rides and ropes miniaturized holstein cows and shetland ponies. Like you, Michael, he's had his share of ups and downs (and not just on the back of a tiny cow!!). He's been Lil' Grand National Champion nine times during the 1980's and 1990's. And has placed 2nd four times. Impressive! But ten years ago things took a turn south.

It was the summer of 1998 and Pinter was at the top of his game. He could rope a tiny pony faster than anyone in his division. He'd ride one tiny pony, then with a rope, capture another tiny pony, then hop off the first tiny pony and tie up the second tiny pony, all in about 15 minutes. It was quite a site seeing him run around! Sometimes his hat would fly off to the cheers of the crowd. He was very zippy!!

Around this time Pinter discovered the Internet and MMORPGs. He loved Ultima Online. He could become anyone he wanted. He could become someone other than who he was. The avatar that he created was a 6 foot 6 inch female necromancer from the city of Yew in the land of Britannia named Ellora Anwamanë. When he was in this world, he towered over all the other creatures. With his long sinewy legs and ample bosom, he became an object of desire for many Britannians of the former Sosaria (sound familiar Michael?). He became addicted to being someone else.

He spent all day and all night in front of his screen. He would no longer bathe. He would no longer sleep. He would drink nothing but cherry-cola Slurppees and eat nothing but Doritos. His stubby fingers became calloused and stained with orange nacho cheese dust. But worst of all, he would no longer ride his beloved tiny cows. They were left to wander in their cages.

Pinter's obsession turned him into a pale blob of his former self. He started to resemble a chewed piece of bubble gum that was stuck to a stool. His only function was to tap his fingers on the keyboard and dart his eyes on occasion. The only way he would communicate was through his alter ego, Ellora.

Inside the game and the world of Britannia, Ellora thrived. She would summon the dead and conjure the demon Nebrios to do her bidding. Ellora would strut and prance around like a woman in command and soon she became the Overseer of Terfin, the volcanic island once home to Lord Blackthorn's palace. In this role, Ellora (Pinter) had her way with many gargoyles. It was a dream come true for Ellora. But this dream would soon come crashing down around her.

It was a hot, dry summer afternoon. A wicked wind kicked up dirt devils that would cyclone and coat the teeth of the coyotes with a chalky red film. The rodeo was over for the day and it was time to go. Pinter's trailer had to be unplugged and hitched up to the Ford F150 and they had to get on the road to Tuscon. The school children would be there and OshKosh B'Gosh needed to sell their overalls. With a yank of the chord connected to the power hook-up, Pinter's screen went blank and he was left sitting motionless and blinking as the truck and trailer jerked into motion. There would be no sweet gargoyle action for Ellora Anwamanë and her minions tonight.

Michael, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, "why couldn't he just stay in Britannia in his mind?Why couldn't he just stay?? Why couldn't he be there forever?? He was so much happier! Why??"

Well Michael, I'll tell you why. Because the children needed him. They needed him to ride his small donkeys (donks). They needed him to rope and tie up those lil' ponies. They needed him more than he needed to dance akimbo in the moonlight of Minoc. It took a shock to the system for Pinter to realize.... the children needed him. And all of a sudden, he realized that he needed them too.

Just as the children needed Pinter McGee, so do the children need Michael Jackson. Michael, you need to come out of hiding and out from under your shroud for the children. Think of the children! You don't want to scare them with your squeaking and skipping and touching. No! You want to sing for them. Sing songs for their generation. Songs of joy and of handguns. It's time Michael for you to come back. The children need you, and the world needs you! You can bring our war-torn planet the joy it so dearly desires!

The music make-over that I mentioned above, will have to come in a different letter at a different time. I realize now that you must tell me that you're ready. You must want this Michael. I can't change you, you must want to change yourself.

I may not have all the answers, and I certainly have no business writing you. I mean I barley like you. But I think you of all people can relate to Pinter's story.

Sadly, Pinter perished during the fateful attacks of September 11, 2001. At 9:15 AM he was trampled by a rush of drunken rodeo clowns on their way to watch CNN. As he laid there, on the floor of the International House of Pancakes, breathing his last breath, he said to me... "tell my story. MJ must know!" It took me seven years and a restraining order from Michael Jordan's lawyer to finally figure out that my friend Pinter... meant you. The King of Pop.

Michael, please let me know that you are ready for a comeback. Please tell me that Pinter has not died in vain. I think he was put on earth for two reasons. To delight the children and rodeo fans everywhere and to inspire you to make music again.

Oh and "Rock With You" is a pretty good song.

Sincerely,
David Beach

David Byrne & Brian Eno - Everything That Will Happen...

Love this for many reasons...

1. Two of my favorite artists: David Byrne & Brian Eno
2. It was built on the Topspin Platform
3. The music is sweet!
4. Ian Rogers

Go there: Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

Why Do Band Sites Suck So Much?

This evening I had the misfortune to have to sift through dozens of popular band sites. I can't yet say why I had to do this, but that's not important right now. What's clear is that band sites suck.

The majority of them are one giant piece of flash. I can not for the life of me understand why a band would want their fans to wait and wait and wait for a flash file to load. Besides the creative ways designers display download percentages, nothing good can be said for flash only sites.

They are egregious examples of designer arrogance. This site by The Like made me want to step on my macbook. That's just one example.

The other kind of band site is the custom themed MySpace page. These sites tend to load heavy stylesheets and disrupt the natural layout of the myspace page. Not that these pages are great to begin with. But when bands like Broadway Calls push down the content and the player to display a gratuitous graphic, I have to wonder who benefits. Not the fan, not the band, but perhaps the dude that designed the graphic.

Why is it that the music industry and the web have had such a terrible relationship for so long? It seems to be a kind of trickle down effect. Recording industry leaders never had a clue what to do with the medium, so they hired like minded people to implement web initiatives. In turn these toadies hired designers and developers that wanted to create "experiences" that ended up being one-way band brochures.

Sure there are exceptions. I can only hope that companies like Topspin are working to give bands the tools they need to develop sustainable communities and businesses on their own. The more bands can get out of having labels market them online the better.

Black Francis and the Haunted Brookdale Lodge

I saw Black Francis/Frank Black/Charles Thompson tonight with @thesolster tonight. I've never seen him in person. In 1989 I had a ticket to see the Pixies at San Jose State, but the earthquake happened and things got messed up. I still have that ticket and always wondered what I missed.

The show was at the Brookdale Lodge in Brookdale which is in between Boulder Creek and Ben Lomond, which is near Felton, near Santa Cruz. In the Santa Cruz redwoods. There were about 100 or so people there and they may all have been wondering the same thing. Why is Black Francis here in the same room with us? He is playing tomorrow at the Hollywood Bowl supporting The Stone Temple Pilots. Perhaps he was wondering the same thing. To me it didn't matter. The show was great. He played mostly from his most recent releases, Blue Finger and Seven Fingers. Both worth getting.

black francis on 12seconds.tv

I had heard that the Brookdale Lodge was supposed to be haunted. There are stories of a girl that can be seen by the creek and other spirits that haunt inside. I don't know what to think about that, but I do know the place is trippy. I met up with Sol at the bar after the show while he was paying the tab, and the first thing I hear is "hey we're talking about ghosts". Then a guy at the bar in a Good Will Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt asked me if I thought ghosts were real. He said, "what are ghosts? Are they in the energy in our mind or from another dimension?'

I needed to have this conversation. It seemed like the right thing at the time. He wondered if ghosts were like the snakes you see when you wake up from a deep sleep. He said they proved that other dimensions were real with string theory. I hesitated to mention the "theory" part, but I like to think that life is more interesting than we understand.

I told him that they think there are twelve dimensions instead four (the fourth being time). And then he said; "you know why? Because there are twelve notes in an octave."

Right then and there, I knew that this guy, drunk at the Brookdale Lodge in the Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt was tapped into the crystal shit. He, knowingly or not, had the answers and was telling me how everything worked. "It's all in music, it's all in the vibrations of the notes."

I blinked at him then grabbed Sol.

If you want some answers, head on over to the Brookdale lodge. Hopefully a former Pixie will be playing music and a guy at the bar will shed some light on the mysteries of the universe.

The Replacements & The Minutemen

I picked up two of my favorite albums of all time today... Frist is the reissue CD of Let It Be by the Replacements. It sounds awesome. Better than ever really. Plus it's full of extra tracks. I first got it in 1985 for my 16th birthday from my good friend Pat Goddard. I remember that gift more than any other that year. It had a profound effect on me. It definitely changed my outlook on music. Maybe because it had Sixteen Blue, but I think more so because of Unsatisfied and Black Diamond. Ah hell it's all great.

I also picked up Double Nickels on the Dime by the Minutemen on vinyl. It probably tops my list of best albums. It's epic. Even though it's new vinyl, it sounds much better than any CD version that's been released. The CD mastering has always sucked, so it's nice to have it back on a "wax pancake" (hey Andy).

Listen: The Replacements - Seen Your Video
Listen: Minutemen - Shit From An Old Notebook

MP3 Jackpot

My friends at MP3 Jackpot and Muzic.com are doing some cool things. They scour the web for good free and legal music for your listening pleasure. Muzic gives bands a good band page and free hosting through archive.org. All copacetic.

Got more vinyl...

I picked up some more records last week and this weekend. Just a few more as I find them. So far I'm loving this... I just need a turntable (again, anyone out there that has a spare, i'm game.)

Here's what I got:
Oingo Boingo - Nothing To Fear
The Replacements - Tim
Eurythmics - Touch
Robyn Hitchcock - Black Snake Diamond Role
Fleetwood Mac - Rumors
Talking Heads - Fear of Music
Talking Heads - 77
Squeeze - Singles 45 and Under

... maybe some others i forgot. My rule is that I only buy used vintage records. And I try not to spend more than $4. More for double albums (Need Kiss Alive, Alive II... Star Wars ST... many Yes, and other high brow stuff). I also will only buy records that were not available on CD at the time of release or that I originally owned on vinyl. Makes a game out of it :)

Return of the Uptones

Update: I added some more information...

I went to Bookshop Santa Cruz this morning to look around before hopping on my Vespa and winding my way back home. I picked up the new Wired and glanced down at the stack of newspapers near the door. My brother was staring back up at me from the pile of Sunday San Francisco Chronicles.

Adam is in a band called the Uptones. He plays sax. The Datebook/pink section has a cover story about their comeback after 20 years written by Joel Selvin. I picked up the paper and couldn't stop laughing. It's so rad that they are being recognized again. You could say that I am tickled pink.

The Uptones formed in the early eighties out of Berkeley High School. Berkeley High was known for its incredible music department and has turned out some amazing musicians including Lenny Picket, Josh Jones, Miles Perkins, Benny Green, Dave Ellis, and Joshua Redmond. The latter two shared the horn section with my brother at different points (Kenny Brooks was in the band too, but I'm not sure if he went to Berkeley - maybe El Cerrito High).

In 1985, Adam was selected to be in the California High School All-Star Jazz Band with other musicians from around the state. The highlight of this achievement was playing the at the Monterey Jazz Festival on the big stage. We went to Aptos High School which had a similar reputation as Berkeley. Donny McCaslin, Jon Dryden, and Kenny Wollesen were there at the same time.

The band featured the top high school jazz musicians from the state. One of the trumpet players was a furry kid named Scott Jensen. Scott was from Berkeley and was in the Uptones. At this point the Uptones were already opening for big acts and even played the Oakland Coliseum with Huey Lewis for some reason (even then Ska was difficult to pigeon hole). They needed a sax player and Adam signed on, driving up to Berkeley every week from Santa Cruz to practice and gig. Adam has been with the Uptones since 1985 longer than any other member of the horn section at any time, I find it really odd that he wasn't mentioned in the article... he's even in the "before" photo standing right in front. Make no mistake, the horns are the soul of the band.

The Datebook article hints at this, but it seemed to me that they never really broke up. They were in constant flux and always seemed to be around even when they weren't. In the late eighties they stopped playing, but then got back together to headline a huge ska/earthday festival at the Greek Theater in Berkeley in 1990 or '91. Then a little later they released a live CD from a found DAT tape of a Gilman St. show. Adam went on to play with Charlie Hunter and Zulu Spear for several years, then moved to Brooklyn with his girlfriend and pretty much stopped playing. But the core of the Uptones kept going. Din, Paul Jackson, and Ben formed Hobo then Stiff Richards (all during the third wave revival of ska and punk ska). But it always seemed like they wanted to be doing the Uptones. The other bands didn't fit right...

The Uptones had the potential to be big... they were big in the Bay Area, but their timing was off to blow up worldwide. And Ska can be a sticky wicket. It has hugeness and niche-ness all at once and some people don't know what to do about that. They didn't quite click at the time. I think there are a few reasons why... while they were top musicians, their vocals were not that strong. They were also fairly political... they needed to go fully in that direction and bust ass or stick to more safe subjects that the frat boys and girls could dig. They were a huge influence on Green Day, Operation Ivy, Rancid, and the whole 924 Gilman scene but were not necessarily punk themselves.

Adam moved back to Berkeley with Erin about five years ago (got married and had an awesome baby Desmond) and rumblings started happening that the band might make another go of it... to make it. The timing is right for them now. First, they figured out how to use their voices and craft really tight songs. They brought on Moose who can wail, skank, and play guitar as one of the front men. The other new players including Jeanne on trombone are some of the best they've had. Now they have their first real album since, well almost ever (they released Out To Sea on 415 records in 1984, but it was difficult to tell if they wanted to be two-tone or U2.).

The album is called Skankin' Foolz Unite and it's a big ballsy barn burner. If you can't dance to this, you don't have legs. Maybe there will be a fourth wave of ska with the Uptones leading the way. It would be right if that happened.

Pick up a copy of the Datebook and check it out.

Here are a few tracks from various periods of time:
East of a Western Bay - Kenny Brooks on Tenor (Adam on Baritone Sax)
Rude Boy (live at gilman)
Out To Sea (from 1984 or something)
Listen to their new album... Skankin' Foolz Unite

More Vinyl

I picked up some more vinyl. Random stuff.

Yes - Close to the Edge (no idea why, but it's got to sound sweet)
Trio - Mini LP (da da da)
Marshal Crenshaw - S/T 1982 (someday someway)
Doobie Brothers - Minute By Minute (Smoooooth)
Elvis Costello - Imperial Bedroom
Elvis Costello - My Aim Is True

I really want to find albums by Oingo Boingo, Clash, Camper van Beethoven, XTC, Talking Heads, Replacements, Black Sabbath, and well anything else that looks cool, weird, or stupid. Now all I need is a turntable. Anyone out there have an old turntable that they don't need anymore?

Bought Some Records

I bought some records for the first time in almost 20 years tonight. I've decided that I'm going to start collecting them again. I don't have a turntable as of yet, but that will come in due time. There's something about the album and digging through record bins that I dearly miss. I had a literal ton of the things at one point but sold them all to get CDs (I've sold my CD collections several times to get computers and to fund my record label). So here are the random things I got.
Missing Persons - Spring Session M (my first concert)
General Public - ...all the rage (my daughter's into the English Beat and you can't get this anymore)
Elvis Costello - Punch The Clock (nuff said)
Ramones - S/T (180 Gram virgin vinyl pressing)