How Does One Face Rejection? (this may be my shortest blog ever)

            Any way you can. 

It’s nearly always humiliating, but you just do.

M. Lanning 10/26/12

TSA and “The Mandolin Strings Incident”

      It ws 2004 and my first flight out of La Guardia airport to do the show, “Almost Heaven, The Songs And Stories of John Denver” in Denver, Colorado and as usual, had my mandolin in tow. It’s small enough to bring on board and previous to this “incident”  I had flown with it over 15 times since 2001 (9/11) all across the country to various shows. Being my first flight out of that airport I didn’t anticipate any problem taking my instrument with me. I had always flown out of JFK on most all of my previous flights (Newark on occasion) and I expected this flight to be no different than all the others, going through security and such.

I put my computer/personal items bag through the detector first (at that point you didn’t have to take your computer out as you do now) and then my mandolin....the worker at the monitor stops it and says “What’s in the mandolin case?” I told her there was a crystal, a tuning fork and a mandolin capo and 3 sets of fresh strings, worth about $60. Then this TSA worker opens up my soft case and says that i can’t take the 3 sets of strings on board. I tell her i’ve never had a problem before and asked to see the supervisor.  She calls one of the heads of security. 

        One of the supervisors comes over, opens my soft case and sees the 3 sets of strings and says, “You can’t take these on board with you” to which I say, “I’ve never had a problem before and these are always in there in case I break a string or have to replace them all”. She still insists that I can’t bring them on, that I should “mail them to myself”, directing me to the Post Office downstairs. I remind them that it’s Sunday and the Post Office, including their branch, was not open on Sunday. (I noticed that the steel gate was pulled down over the office when I walked by on my way to security). She persisted and, having no other options, I literally shoved the 3 sets of strings into her hands and said snidely “Here. Learn to play the mandolin”.....God! I was pissed! $60 down the drain! A first. I’ve had my run ins with airlines and occasionally airport security (like the time after the last show of a certain Orchestra I was singing with, the whole band had partied all night and everyone had made it through airport security, exhausted and still a little drunk, until it was my turn to go through security with my mandolin.....wait.....that’s another whole blog!)

Anyway,

As I am walking down the ramp to the plane, a little more than pissed off about losing the strings it occurred to me...

Apparently, I needed “fresh” strings to strangle somebody!

BECAUSE I HAD STRINGS ON MY MANDOLIN!!!

Ok, it might look a little odd for me to be de-tuning a string on an instrument in the middle of a flight and I totally get the “security” thing, but come on.....REALLY!?

 (Not to mention I always carry one extra set in my computer bag! Wait a minute...those might have been spare used strings! :o)

M. Lanning 7/18/12

Dear MTV, fuck you...OR “I’ve got no time for you, right now, don’t bother me”, from the song, “Don’t Bother Me” by George Harrison

Perfectly written line by someone who did not suffer fools gladly. I know, I’ve seen it firsthand. But that’s a tale for another time.  I will say that George did some of my favorite videos. Self effacing, funny as shit, some of them cutting edge and some just plain silly.

Videos have almost ruined music for me. And I say that as “old school” as possible. And if you have a problem with me not falling dead-over-heels with Madonna or her latest incarnation, Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj a trois entourage or ten thousand tons of bling, and five thousand silly-ass ways of messin’ with your hair, take a flyin’ fuck at a rolled up lyric! IT AIN’T ABOUT THAT!! At least not where I’m comin’ from...

It's about the music, stupid! It’s about saying’ someting within the song, within the lyrics. I happen to believe that one of the most challenging things you can do is try to tell a whole story or convey true emotion or an idea in 3-5 minutes. And not by shoving it in your face, either! I mean, if it’s in your face, fine, but the “don’t hit me over the head with it” type approach.

I find it ironic that the film “Alice’s Restaurant” is playin’ on the TV box as I write this rant. I am a “tyrant” of my age. I cannot be cured. I believe in peace, love and the 3 minute single as art form. Even if it wasn’t a hit, so long as it was interesting and told some kind of story, or informed or moved me or grooved me in some way, I’m a fan. My generation may or may not have blown it, but it was one hell of a ride! Besides, Gov. Rockefeller almost called in 50,000 troops to break up Woodstock (good thinkin’ Einstein!) and they seeded the clouds to make it rain and it was the largest gathering of people in one peace, all groovin’ in completley different spaces in the same place.....oh, shit, never mind!

     And MTV....you suck. You’ve sucked for a long, long time. Now you suck even harder, given that it’s not even “Music Television” anymore. It’s consummerism at it’s highest crasseristic. (I just made that word up...sue me!) You started this shit and you couldn’t even find a way to finish it!

Don’t get me wrong. There are some videos that knock me out! “Video Killed The Radio Star” by The Buggles immediately comes to mind. After all, it was the very first vid played on “MTV”. There were a lot of others as well, too numerous to count. A lot of The Foo Fighters vids come to mind right away. Clever, innovative, funny, and actually took you on a short journey that you weren’t expecting sometimes.

      But.....(and I’m certain this is a real “GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN!” moment for some of you) you’ve taken away something invaluable. The ability of the individual to take his own ride within the music. Not that you even fuck that up anymore. You’re too busy tryin’ on the teenage pregnancy thing as hit show shit, or climbin’ into a hot tub with a bunch of yahoos (oh, Southerners, I have such respect for you now....you can be from Jersey and be a yahoo too!) and all these folks on all these shows are tryin’ to keep their dreams of huge piles of money stuck in their ears alive somehow while reciting “the Bronx cheer” (a Bronx cheer is to make a noise signifying derision, real or feigned. It is made by placing the tongue between the lips and blowing to produce a sound similar to flatulence. Thanks Wikipedia! I’m a supporter...and I mean monetarily).....’cause ain’t that the be all and end all of life, as Eddie Izzard so blithely put it? Isn’t that the ultimate goal of the American dream? Having a shit pile of money? Or, as Peggy Lee put it in song (a beatiful single, I might add) “Is that all there is?” (one of our Mom’s favorite songs on the radio in the ‘60s) Can’t we “get ourselves back to the Garden?”. For a good dose of songwriting tale well told, listen to “Wooden Ships” by Crosby. Stills and Nash. Such a crushingly sad, wonderously beautiful tale told by a bunch of magnificent singer/songwriters. It makes me want to say,”Can i just leave now?” I’ve tried my best to fight this beast some call “progress” (beauty is in the eye of the beholder). A lot of us got lost in the Kent State-Jackson State massacres and Altamont tragedy (thanks, you Rollers of Stones! Way to fuck that one up! Not that I don’t adore your music but, REALLY!!??)

  What the dying dream did was left us wanting....and wanting....and wanting some more. Good little consumers again!  Woo hoo! Let the selling to America begin! (What was George Bush's advice after 911? "Go shopping"!!??) With the advent of the ‘80s and John Lennon’s assasination (don’t get me started on that one) we were left with....you guessed it.....MTV! The ultimate tool of Yuppiedom! As soon as those assholes discovered the big pile of  money under the MTV Rock (pun intended), we were left with “The Reagan years” (the “Great Communicator” my ass! Someone with the onslaught of Alzheimers sneaking up behind him and falling asleep in front of the Pope and testifiying before congress during the Iran/Contra scandal by saying “I don’t remember” or “I don’t recall’ several times.....oh, please! Read “Sleepwalking Through History” by Haynes Johnson for more information) Someone who said (when he was Governor of California) “We could bomb the hell out of Vietnam, turn it into a parking lot and be home before Christmas” What a lovely sentiment! Well, we lost that war and I had several friends in my neightborhood come home in boxes or worse before that debacle was over.

I did get a little off subject here, but I’m pretty sure what my point was is that music is an amazing part of our culture, our lives and to have that trivialized by someone slamming images into your head about what they think you should think the song is trying to tell you, instead of letting you make your own mind up is typical in this day and age of “Insant gratifacation takes too long” (Carrie Fisher’s line, to give credit where credit is surely due!) I’m getting crotchety as I get older and I am impatient for people to wake the fuck up! I always try to break off these rants with a tidbit or a quote.....I will quote Crosby, Stills and Nash’s brilliant song “Woodn Ships” once again....

“Silver people on the shoreline, let us be, we are leaving,,,,you don’t need us”!.....Who’s with me?

PS: Name some great singles, if only for yourself sometime, go back and really listen to them and see if I’m not right.....they are a unique art form in and of themselves.....

M. Lanning 06/03/12

Musical Civil War Battles Won and Lost and Meeting My Favorite Basketball Player of All Time

     It was 1999 and battle weary men from both sides, North and South, from the Frank Wildhorn/Jack Murphy/Greg Boyd musical, “The Civil War” were slated to sing The National Anthem and a halftime show for a playoff game between the Atlanta Hawks and the New York Knicks. We had worked out a stellar arrangement of the anthem under the very capable direction of Dave Clemmons, at the time one of the featured soldiers in the broadway show and doing double duty as a casting director. Clem (as he is affectionately called by those that know him) is now one of the most well respected casting directors in New York and teaches college level classes all across the country in all facets of theatre. He is also an expert musicologist in nearly every genre, not to mention a music trivia nut (oops! i mean “expert!) and one of the best judges of the voice I’ve ever known. (I can see his head swelling as he reads this!) 

The Knicks had their game faces on and egos well polished and there was no getting near them before the game. We were put in an unused locker room at Madisan Square Garden to warm up and at the last minute were told to put on Hawks and Knicks jerseys to represent North and South (oh, this is goin’ to go over REAL WELL!) It was bad enough that Geno and I (Confederate and Union Captains, respectively) had to wear our swords for the halftime show. But I am getting ahead of myself. 

  Thankfully, we didn’t have to don the shitty idea jerseys for the singing of the National Anthem. Now, these guys, as well as the rest of our magnificent cast are still collectively known to this day as one of the best singing casts to ever grace the broadway stage. Period. Most of us had been singing together on and off for various readings and the out of town try outs (what they call the pre-broadway run) since ‘97. We were some sangin’ fools to put it mildly.

  Sadly, and much to our chagrin, just the Northern and Southern soldier cast were picked to do the anthem and then the halftime show. As we were waiting to go onto the court to do the anthem, I was standing right next to Magic Johnson, my favorite basketball player of all time. So close, I could have stepped on his huge ass foot! So desperate I was to say something to him I naturally think of nothing and I led the guys out onto the court to sing. We.Were.Spectacular! The crowd went apeshit! Our arrangement had the perfect blend of flowing in and out of unison and harmony! We didn’t even rehearse that much as I recall, we had just sung together for some time already, it was just kind of natural. It was glorious and we walked off the court to tumultuous applause and screams!! Even the ushers were saying it was one of the best versions they’d ever heard. 

And There was Magic Johnson, reaching out to shake my hand since i was elected to lead the guys on and off the court, effusive with praise, saying how amazing it was and vowing to come and see our show (don’t think he ever did). He shook every one of our guys hands just as generously as all the stories we’d heard about him.

Well, then comes time for the halftime show and we don “The Jerseys”, Hawks representing the South and Knicks representing the North. Right out of the “Really Bad Idea” playbook. Gene Miller The Southern Captain and me the Northern Captain, strap our swords on, all of us feeling like dorks and thinking we looked ridiculous, march out to sing “the halftime show”.

The presentation started with a song I opened the show with, “Brother My Brother”....and the only monitor system or any way we had to hear what we were doing was the Garden P.A. system. Talk about an impossible task! It was fine for the National Anthem because we sang that without accompaniment, but for the presentation we were singing to a track that was coming out of the P.A. system. I could barely find “one” (the beginning of the track!) Somehow, I got into the start of the tune and we had arranged it straight into another song from the show “By The Sword/Sons Of Dixie” only to start hearing boos from the crowd! That’s right, the same lame ass New Yorkers who loved our version of the 

National Anthem were now full of overpriced beer and wanted to see tits and ass, not some dorkos in jerseys, marching around the court singin’ some broadway tune! Maybe they were pissed off because the I think the Knicks were gettin’ beat or some shit, but it was nontheless humiliating as hell! We went from being the coolest to the lamest in only two quarters! And the cherry on top was that we weren’t even bein’ paid for our humiliation. We were doing it to promote the show. Oh yeah, they gave us some tickets way up in the nosebleed section. WOO FUCKIN’ HOO! By the end of the 3rd quarter the Knicks were gettin’ their asses handed to them in a diaper and a lot of us just split, but again, I’m getting ahead of myself.

After being somewhat destroyed by the drunks in the cheap seats and being escorted off of the court, there was Magic Johnson again, shakin’ everyone of our guys’ hands and sayin’ things like “don’t worry about those fools, I used to get booed by them all the time”. It was about the only redeeming thing the experience held for us except for knockin’ ‘em dead before the game with the National Anthem.

The real thrill of it for me was meeting one of my sports idols and having him say how great we were. I think I remember saying something stupid about how I was from LA and used to take my boys to see the Lakers play a lot, and I’m your biggest fan (‘cause he probably ever heard that before) but Magic, if somehow you are reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart for redeeming one of the more embarrassing moments of my musical life. You are truly a sweet soul.

Oh yeah, AND THE ORIGINAL CAST OF “THE CIVIL WAR” ROCKS!!! It’s just a real shame we didn’t get an original cast album out of it.....

M. Lanning 5/02/12

The hand of the devil...(or, most people would give their right arm to be ambidextrous!)

     When I was 6 years old, I spent the first 2 weeks in 1st grade in Southern California (Ah, progressive Southern California!!), where I was being allowed to use my left hand to write with and I remember being excited about learning to write, finally! My mom had taken me through my 1st grade reader that previous summer and words held a special fascination for me that I’ve had to this day. For 2 weeks it was, a, b, c...the whole alphabet! Then my dad got some job that landed us in Indiana and we moved to some small town aboout 20 miles west of Indianapolis called Danville. CULTURE SHOCK!! For someone so little, I remember being frightened of moving away from my little friends in the neighborhood, from everything I knew to be normal in my life. What I was not prepared for at all was how threateningly different it was to be. 

My first week of school was weird enough, but during one of our recesses that week I remember getting on the merry-go-round and saying to all the other kids, “Alright everybody! Let’s pretend this is a spaceship!” and some really fat kid on the ride said (and i will never forget this) “Shut up kid! That’s stupid! This is just a merry-go-round.” My little self felt it had died and gone to hell. I remember thinking, ‘”This kid doesn’t know how to play at all” and then I said, “Alright, then let’s pretend it’s a tank!” and he said something like “Your the new kid, aren’t you? Just shut up or I’ll beat you up!” Now, I was never afraid of a fight, (that came later when I broke the shit out of my nose, but that’s a whole other blog!) but that kid was a big ass fatso! I was devastated. I ate my lunch alone all that week not knowing anyone, not that any kid extended themselves to me. I went home sad and hating my new school.

Sometime later in the next few weeks we had our first writing lesson. I naturally put the pencil in my left hand thinking nothing of it and the old biddy, ex-nun of a 1st grade teacher came over, slapped my hand with her ruler and said “Put that pencil in your right hand! Only the devil uses his left hand to write” or something to that effect. Again, I was completely confused and totally devastated, not to mention being terrified! (I grew up Irish Cathoic) Besides that, the only kid that was nice to me was the “mentally challenged” boy that was sitting next to me (we used to call them “retarded” back in the day, but that’s not PC) and he was using his right hand. I thought, “If he can do it, so can I”. It was much harder than I thought. It didn’t feel natural in the least. I was really struggling and started to cry and I remember this bitch of a school marm yelling at me! Did I mention I thought I’d died and gone to hell? It affected everything I tried to do growing up! Playing sports was particularly difficult. I always wanted to be Sandy Koufax, my favorite baseball player, the legendary left handed pitcher for my favorite boyhood team, the Dodgers.

Well, the next few weeks I was still struggling over that horrible experience, not wanting to go to school anymore, feeling ashamed. I finally decided to tell my mother about what had happened (it seemed my father was always away on business). When I got home that particular day, I found my mother sitting on the stairs that led up to our bedrooms, crying.

      I was so upset to see her that way (I was six, remember). I remember her sitting me down and telling me our father had left us! I vaguely remember her giving me some kind of “you have to help me now and be the man of the family” speech through her tears. (I was the oldest of the 4 of us kids, but still only 6!) I completely buried what I was going to tell her of what had happened to me that day, trying my best to comfort her. 

        Somehow, mom got us back to California and held onto the house they owned jointly. She went back to school, all while raising 4 kids and got her Master’s in Education and went on to be an amazing teacher, always wanting to give back. (those of you fortunate enough to have known my mother know what a brilliant, amazing soul she was....I feel bad for anyone that didn’t get to meet her)

This full memory came spilling out during therapy when I was a single parent of my own two children many years later. I could never understand why my handwriting was so shitty and took typing in high school (not that I was any good at that either!) At least I could read my own handwriting and thank God for the tape recorders that came out later after high school! And I have gotten a little better as a typist over these many years. It took a spcecial therapist to coax the memory out of me somehow who is a friend to this day (God bless you Carol! You helped me more than you’ll ever know!). Here was the awesome assignment she gave me.....Carol told me to go home that day after our session and write something using only my left hand! Brilliant! What I wrote was an Irish limerick. I memorized it and have it still, written down somewhere in one of my many journals (I’m sure it’s probably in my FSS...fucking storage space as I like to call it in Solana Beach, Ca.)

I find it ironic that I became a writer, especially of lyrics, poetry and now this blog. I’m also working on my life story, my memoirs, I guess you’d call them, of which these are a part.....one of the reasons I started a blog in the first place. You know, to practice writing. And, I can eat with either hand, throw a baseball with my left hand, shoot a basketball left handed and bat left or right (not that I can hit worth a shit! :o)

Oh! I almost forgot! The limerick I wrote?

Here it is.....

“Everthing’s this way, not that

 Every which way and not pat

 I will take no stand, nor make any demands

 I am what I am and that’s that!”

.....and thank God for the typewriter and now the computer!...I’m still not very good at it, but at least I can go back and correct it without wearing an eraser down to the nubbins!

So, if you think I’m a little weird, I’m fine with that. My brain is still tryin’ to figure all this stuff out.

M. Lanning 3/27/12

Meeting my favorite actor and one of my favorite singer/songwriters....2 completely separate stories I’m gonna tie together.....

Here goes nothin’....

It’s the mid ‘70s and my band Jiva (Geevah) is flyin’ high. Our eponymously titled LP was “in the can” (done) and some test pressings were made. Our Label owner and executive producer, George Harrison had invited Ringo into the studio several times to hang out with us during the sessions and we got friendly with him. He’s was riotous fun and a great hang! Ringo ended up inviting us to his house in the hills above Sunset Blvd. for a big party he was hosting. Of course we accepted, not really knowing what to expect.

We arrived fashionably late (but not too late) and the shindig is in full swing. First thing I notice is David Crosby crossing the front door in search of a joint or some such substance and the next thing I see is Plant and Page (yes THAT Plant and Page) sitting on a “conversation pit” couch with about 5-6 women (big surprise!) in a sunken living room. The first thing I think is “I need a drink, quick! Hell, 3 drinks!” After about 3 or so cognacs (nobody counted back then and I was pretentiously “cognac cool”), I found myself by the pool sharing a joint with and picking Led Zeppelin’s John Paul Jones’ brain about recording technique and other recording geek topics, having a great conversation when I really had to go to the bathroom. I excused myself telling him of my need to pee and wanted to continue our conversation when I got back. I walked through the front rooms and around the corner down the long hall that led to the bathroom and there, standing all alone, was my favorite actor of all time, Peter Sellers! As I’m walking down the hall, I am desperate to make some kind of conversation, feelling very shy and overwhelmed. He looks as though he’s studying a painting on the wall across from the bathroom door, hands behind his back, waiting to use the bathroom. Now, if you’ve never seen his film “The Party” it’s high time you did! 

Suffice it to say he plays a bumbling Indian actor, accidentally invited to a big film producer’s dinner party and pure insanity ensues. Needless to say, it’s one of my favorite Sellers films and funny as shit! So I get this idea and say in a Hindi dialect, “That is a very nice painting you are looking at. I was admiring that painting not 45 minutes ago!”

He didn’t miss a beat and answered right back in the same dialect, “Yes! It is very nice, but I have been waiting for bathroom LONG TIME!” as he literally screamed it through the bathroom door! Three guys come out, (obviously just finishing up some lines of cocaine, yes my children, COCAINE!) and offer up apologies to “Mr. Sellers” (so sorry...blah, blah, blah....) and “Mr. Sellers” goes into the bathroom. A few minutes later there are three other people waiting in line behind me and he comes out, gives me a smile and walks down the hall to rejoin Ringo’s party. I go in and pee and coming back out. As I am walking back into the fray, there he is at the end of the hall wearing that famous “Peter Sellers cat-that-ate-the-canary grin”. I think it a little strange until he says to me, “You do that dialect very well, young man. Are you an actor?” I told him I had been on and off since age 9, but I’m also a musician/singer/songwriter and my group, Jiva, had just finished up our first album. He says, and I quote “You mean you're George’s band? He gave me your music and I’ve been listening to it all this week! Are the rest of the boys here? I’d love to meet them!”. My. Jaw. Drops. To the floor. I answer back “Why yes! Yes they are! Stay right here and I’ll round them up!” I frantically run around the party gathering up “the boys” and one of our managers Jack Reed practically screaming at them “Peter Sellers wants to meet you guys” And it was like WTF!!?? They follow me over to where Peter is (at this point I’m thinkin’ it’s “hey Pete, hey Mike!”) and he proceeds to tell us how much he enjoys our music and asking us how we enjoyed the process of recording, who were the writers of the songs (back then, we had decided to share the credit, ala Lennon/McCartney, so it was Lanning/Hilton/Strauss as writers with our drummer sharing in the publishing....and Reedo, if you are reading this, you were the glue and set the groove, my brother, and deserve more credit then you ever got at the time)

So, Here we are sharing with my favorite actor of all time stories, like the time George kicked Sly (of Sly And The Family Stone fame) out of the studio after surprising us with inviting Sly into a session, knowing we were big fans. Super disappointment Sly was, with an entourage of 6-8 people, all coked out of their nuts and then Sly sits at the console and starts trying to direct the session, all while lining up coke for his minions! After quietly pulling Sly aside and asking him and his people to leave, George shyly apologizes to us for inviting him “I didn’t know he was a traveling circus” if I remember correctly, was what George said....(Side note: in all of my years in the business of show, I’ve never met a more beautiful soul than George Harrison....but he did NOT suffer fools gladly! And he was one hell of a funny human being!!!) 

But yet again, I digress. We are hanging out with Peter for what seems like over an hour when Miami Steve Van Zandt, Max Weinberg and Roy Bittan, all from Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band (Bruce wasn’t there...at least not to my knowledge), pull me aside and ask, “Can you introduce us to Peter Sellers?” (I have since reminded both Max and Steven at different times several years later that I had introduced them to Sellers at Ringo’s house and of course they remembered meeting him but didn’t remember me introducing them, of course!....ahh, the glamorous life!) I remember thinking “is this really happening??” Here I am introducing my new best friend Peter Sellers to one of my favorite bands (courtesy of George, we had seen them recently at The Roxy on Sunset during the “Born To Run” tour...they were spectacular!! A true force to be reckoned with in rock and roll...) 

We party on into the night and around 3-4 am Peter can’t find his limo driver so we end up giving him a ride home in our Van!!

I remember thinking “I can die now”....I’ve worked with a Beatle and met my favorite actor and HE likes OUR music!!! Wow...just....wow!!! (a semi-fictional account ended up in a novel of a dear friend of ours, writer Chris Corbett called “Coast Highway” a good read you can find online at Amazon and Barnes And Noble) 

So, I told you that story to tell you this one.....

Years later, one of my best friends (since high school I had known and loved all the Hiltons like a second family...we grew up, all of us, playing music together) and old band mate from Jiva, Thomas Hilton, and I had loosely reformed into “Cosmic lightning Bolts Of Reality, Manifesting On This Plane For Your Enjoyment” (yes, that was our name....we tried to pick as unpretentious name as we could :o) with another friend of ours, drummer Steve “Coyote” Tomaino. We played this place called “The Sagebrush Cantina” on a regular basis for several years, from the mid 80s to the late 90s.

One Saturday afternoon we are setting up for a 4-8 pm slot when I notice someone watching us set up. It’s Bruce Springsteen!!

He’s casually leaning on the side of the entrance, and I walk over to him, introduce myself and say, “You know Bruce, I introduced Peter Sellers to some of your E Street mates at Ringo’s house back in the 70s”. He says “No shit!” and asks me which ones and asks me my name and the name of the band. He gets a huge kick out of our name laughs and I say, “We also have something else in common you don’t know about. We’ve both written songs for Dave Edmunds”. Again, he says “No shit!” (Bruce had written “From Small things Mama, Big Things One Day Come” for Dave, also one of my faves from Dave!) and I said “Yup! But I’ve written 2 songs for him and you only wrote one!” He burst out laughing at that and decided to stay and listen to our entire first set, telling us we sounded great and wishing us the best before takin’ off. (Dave ended up recording a third song of mine called “Beach Boy Blood (In My Veins)” a year or so later, but that’s a whole other story!) Yup! I have had some life, don’t ya’ know!

PS: Several years after that while living in NYC, around 2005, I am doing one of several benefits for "Rockers On Broadway", a charity event created by my friend, Donnie Kehr and Pete Townsend when they were working on "Tommy" on Broadway together and co-produced by another dear friend Cori Gardner. It was themed "A Celebration of The 60s" and it was to benefit "Broadway Cares, Equity Fights Aids" and "The Path Fund" which provides music education for under funded schools. Steve Van Zandt was one of our special guests along with The Rascals. We were doing some photo ops and I was standing next to Steve waiting to take a picture when I leaned over and whispered to him, "Remind me later to tell you about the time I introduced you and your band members to Peter Sellers at Ringo's house in '75" and started to walk away. He grabbed my arm and said, "What the fuck did you just say?" I repeated myself and he shook his head and said " Wow, Ok!". Later I turned in a version of Joe Cocker's "Space Captain" and as I walked off stage, one of the assistant stage managers came to me and said, "Mr. Van Zandt would like to see you at his table right now". Well, who could refuse an offer like that, especially since I set him up? I spent the next 15 or so minutes at his table explaining the whole story to him! He was very amused and pretty amazed after all that time!

M. Lanning 02/22/12