Have We Lowered Our Standards?

I think The Roomba is a cool invention, but I don't want to hear it sing.
These days I seem to be surrounded by robot music. I turn on the TV or the radio to hear auto-tuned vocals and artificial instruments, manufactured music, rife with imitation inspiration.

I'm saturated by soulless soul music, refurbished rock, and counterfeit country. It's amazing to me that most people aren't bothered by it. In fact, they don't even seem to notice it. It's as if they hear with their eyes. If the pop star looks good and fits the image they prefer, well, that's good enough. Never mind that the guy can't sing or play, or write his own songs. Can he dance? Does he look good? They'll buy that CD.
I recall the lyrics of Tom Petty from his song "Joe:"

"Bring me a girl

they're always the best

you put 'em on stage

and you have 'em undress

some angel whore

who can learn a guitar lick

hey, that's what I call music"

Right on Tom! Exactly! ...except that you left out the part where instead of learning that guitar lick, they just lip synch and do the choreography someone taught them. - but who cares?
I DO! I think music is important. It matters. The music of an era tells the story of that era. It matters.
Music and all art exists for a REASON, and the reason isn't just money.
Bands once formed in a natural way. Kids on street corners, or in their parent's cellars and garages got together and made the music that they believed in. I used to go into a music store and see a dozen kids trying out guitars and drums. Not anymore.
Kids had guitar heroes, favorite drummers, keyboard players, bass players, etc...
Those days are gone. I don't blame the kids though.
In a world where most schools think their music classes are unimportant, how can you blame the kids?

In a world where radio has been segmented into segregated playlists, how can you blame the kids?
They simply aren't exposed to a wide variety of music. American Idol will not fill the creative void.
I learned more from disc jockeys than I did from any other source. But disc jockeys who play what they want to play, are a thing of the past. How can a kid learn about great music? Not from a D Jay, not anymore.
I'll quote Tom Petty one more time:

"As we celebrate mediocrity
all the boys upstairs want to see
How much you'll pay for what you used to get for free
And there goes the last DJ
Who plays what he wants to play
And says what he wants to say
Hey, hey, hey
And there goes your freedom of choice
There goes the last human voice
And there goes the last DJ"

Well said, Tom.
If a person eats only swill, then the only judgment he can make is what kind of swill he likes.
So music is beginning to suck, and as it continues, we lower our standards.
A kid can only make judgments based on the tiny universe he or she hears.
So I guess it's up to us to teach our kids about good music, because the schools don't care, and the D Jays are extinct.
BUT...
There are still great songwriters, singers and musicians out there.
You have to dig a little deeper to find them, but they are out there and you can tune it in, if you try.
Keep your standards up! Listen to good music.
Seek it out, play it loud and show it to other people.
Support your local musicians and songwriters. They're still out there fighting the good fight.
Rock on...

A Short Anectdote...

I was sitting there in a nice little restaurant the other day, having lunch with a friend, and there was a table of six teenage girls sitting across the room from us.

They were laughing and giggling and I started to wonder if they were looking at ME.

That's when I realized that I was wearing my Bunghole Liquors T Shirt.

Bunghole Liquors, Salem, Mass.

When You're Going Through Hell, Keep Going

I'm writing this so I remember.
I'm also writing this to motivate myself, and to explain what happened.

I was scheduled to have rotator cuff surgery on my shoulder on Dec 16th. I needed it for sure, because I couldn't work or play guitar without pain.

Two weeks before the surgery I thought I had the flu. I see now that it wasn't the flu. It was something far more dangerous.
I stayed in bed with vicious headaches and nausea and all I could do was sleep. I was having trouble breathing. I felt lousy.

When it was time for the shoulder surgery, I didn't tell the doctor what was going on.
I had waited 3 months for this surgery and I needed to get back to work and to begin playing and recording again without any setbacks.
I wanted that surgery dammit!

This was supposed to be a simple arthroscopic day surgery.
It wasn't.
The surgery itself went OK.
After the surgery they had trouble bringing me back around. My vital stats were very bad.

They kept me in the hospital for a couple of days, then they let me go home, feeling awful, and all doped up on strong pain meds.
I hadn't done any Christmas shopping, and my good friend Frank offered to drive me where I wanted to go after a quick follow-up visit to my pulmonary doctor.
The doctor took a quick EKG test, looked at the results, shook his head and said, "Amazing. I can't believe you are still functioning."

My blood oxygen was 72 and my heart rate was racing into the 120's. He sent me straight back into Winchester hospital.
No Christmas shopping for me. Frank drove me there. He was my ambulance driver and my taxi guy on the same day.
That hospital stay is just a blur to me. I couldn't tell you a thing about it.

They let me out just in time for Christmas Eve, feeling terrible physically and emotionally for ruining Christmas.
My wife made me a nice dinner. I had a few glasses of wine, and then, stupidly a couple of drinks. I knew I shouldn't, but it was Christmas Eve, and I was feeling so low, very melancholy. A blue Christmas, for sure.

The next morning I had trouble getting up. I had trouble breathing, and my heart kept racing.
While opening presents, I just keeled over.
My wife sent me back to bed, and luckily, she came upstairs to check on me.
I was incoherent. She took my pulse, my breathing was shallow, and she couldn't wake me.

The next thing I remember, I was being carried down the stairs by four EMT's.
Red lights were flashing and my neighbors were standing on their steps gawking at me as they put me into the ambulance and whisked me away.

I remember coming in and out of consciousness in the intensive care ward. I was suffocating, sucking air, with my heart pounding so loud it sounded like a freight train in my head. They put an oxygen mask (which didn't fit) over my nose and mouth, but I couldn't breathe. I threw up into the mask and began thrashing around as they held me down. I was choking to death and scared out of my mind.
I actually felt a seperation between my self and my body.
I don't know how to explain that to you, but I felt myself rising, as if discarding my sick body.
They ripped the mask off. I gasped for air. Everyone was telling me to keep breathing, and not to give up, and I remember telling my wife, "I'm dying!" in between gasps.
But another part of me was struggling to keep breathing, and after a long time they got my breathing back under control.
That was the longest night ever. I never slept. I only went in and out of consciousness.
I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid I'd never wake up.
The sun came up, and the hospital came back to life, from a spooky quiet place to a bustling beehive of activity.
Don't get sick on Christmas night folks. You won't find many people on staff.
The rest of this stay was a blur to me. I was pretty much out of it, mentally. I don't even know how many days I stayed.
Then they let me out.
I didn't do well when I got home.
Getting to sleep was hard, I had to pack my shoulder in ice, and I couldn't get comfortable.It throbbed but they wouldn't allow me to take any sleeping medication for fear of screwing up my breathing and heart rates.
I had to tough it out.
I kept waking up suffocating, gasping for air, with my heart racing, dizzy and faint, very weak, not having a wonderful Christmas time. And let's not forget the shoulder. It's a painful operation, but they wouldn't allow me to take any pain medication, because it slows down the breathing.

Worst of all, though I needed sleep, I was afraid to sleep, and every time I drifted off I woke up gasping for air, desperately sucking for wind, with my heart doing a drum solo.
That happened so many times I just couldn't stand it any more, and conacted the pulmonary doctor again.
He had told me to see a doctor who specializes in my problem (bi-lateral diaphragm paralysis) at Tufts Medical Center, in Boston.
So, there I was, on New Year's Eve...in another emergency room, being admitted to the hospital for the 4th time in 16 days.
I spent another 3 days there. They were long lonely days, but thanks to my family and my friends, I got through it.
I learned a few things:
My wife really does love me, and she's part angel.
My son is a fine young man who helped out around the house and shoveled a lot of snow without me. I think he's gonna turn out just fine.
My best friends really are my best friends.
Lot's of people care about me.
I need to show them I care about them more often.
I need to take better care of myself.
We all need each other.
Being grateful helps you enjoy life much more.
There's a lot of people who have it a lot worse off than we do.
Also:
Most nurses have bad breath. (They seem to wash down garlic with coffee a lot)
All hospital food tastes like toast.
Fat guys should never wear robes that tie in the back.

I'm home now, beginning a new phase in my life, beginning to recover.
This is going to be a long road ahead and it's going to take lot's of small steps to get there, but I'm gonna get there.
I'll make a comeback. Just watch me.



I'll never forget the Christmas season of 2009, even though I'll always want to.
It was an unfolding nightmare of sickness, pain, punctured by the most terrifying moments of my life.
Not much of a holiday.
Several times I was in fear of dying. And it all began with what should have been a simple operation.

Be carefull out there. Take care of each other. Take care of yourselves!
Tell the people you love that you love them.
Let's make this a happier, healthier year!

Kenny Hogan
January 4th, 2010

Peter From Frammish

So I'm asleep and I'm dreamin', and in my dream my phone is ringin', and I answer it.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Ken Hogan?"
"Yes."
"It's Peter, from Frammish."
"Who?" 
"Peter, from Frammish." 
I said, "From where?"
And he says FRAMMISH!" and he sounded annoyed.

Sometimes in dreams you just know something. 
I knew that he was calling to offer me a job. Frammish was some kind of company, I guess...
So, in a delighted tone, I said, "OH! Peter! From FRAMMISH!"


...and then my wife's alarm clock went off...BEEP!BEEP! BEEP! ...and I woke up.
She says, "What were you saying?"
I said, "I was talking to Peter from Frammish."
She said "Who? What are you talking about?"
I said "Peter, from Frammish. He was offering me a job."
"I'm Peter, from Frammish."
She said "Stop saying that!" and she got up. 
She was fishing around in her drawer for some socks or something, and I just had to say it again...
 "It's Peter, from Frammish."
And she turned around and said "SHUT UP! 
ENOUGH with this  Peter, from Frammish!" 
And she walked out and slammed the door, and left.


...And I found myself laying in bed confused.
I didn't get the job. My wife was mad at me, and there was no way I could get back to sleep.
All because of that asshole Peter, from Frammish.

The Razor Blade Story

So yesterday morning I woke up a little crispy with a medical need for coffee.

Blurry eyed, I drove to Stop & Shop. I bought some of those razor blades from the future that are so expensive and important they require a special bullet-proof tamper-resistant unbreakable plastic case which also has a wireless radio alarm built into it.

I'm not making this up!

I guess people must steal these blades a lot for them to go to such extremes, but it seems a bit ridiculous to me.  
I mean, it's a pack of razor blades, not the Hope Diamond. But it's in this special museum display box.

Anyways, I go up to the Dunking Donuts inside Stop and shop and I order 3 giant iced coffees and 3 bagels.

I needed this coffee very badly because we drank like the wind the night before.

The lady behind the counter was from some miserable country and could not speak English, but I was able to communicate, that I wanted the 3 bagels and 3 giant iced coffees using  a series of elaborate hand signals, slow motion pronunciations and a bit of rumba dancing.

I also inquired about purchasing the million dollar space age razor blades there at the Dunkin Donuts vestibule. 
She made some noise like a lama choking on a golf ball and took my money.

My head was throbbing like a carnival ride as I tried to juggle the bag and the coffees on the way back to my van.

I got home somehow without spilling anything. (A miracle)

Now I opened the bag to discover that she only gave me one bagel, not three. I clearly told her by pointing with three fingers and doing the Watusi, that I wanted 3 bagels, but alas, there was only one bagel in the bag.

I gave the bagel to my son and began inhaling the gigantic coffee.

Then I noticed that the futuristic interplanetary razor blades were still in their bullet-proof radio protected viewing shrine. Juanita had failed to remove the anti-theft see-through safe these razor blades came in.

So I grabbed a large flat-headed screw driver and attempted to pry the case open.

It was not possible.

It could not be done.

God knows, I tried, but It could not be done.

I started chopping at it like OJ Simpson and I almost cut my fingers off. I needed those fingers too. 

How else was I gonna make signals the next time I needed coffee?

Finally I gave up. This wasn't helping my throbbing head at all.

I would not be shaving on this day.

I considered going back to Stop & Shop, but my wife told me they were closed for renovations.

I decided to keep the blades in their impenetrable bio-dome as a piece of art for my home.

Then my brother came over.

I showed him the beautiful blades from Mars in their fabulous viewing case.

He said he could get it to open. 

"Put it in a vice and hit it with a ball peen hammer," he said, "Maybe try a hack saw."

Then he said, "Give it me me. I'll JUMP ON IT!"

So he took it outside on the patio, and began jumping on the tiny museum case.

He's a big dude and he was jumping up and down on it like Wrestle mania, but it wouldn't break!

"This God-damned thing won't break," he yelled, and he was all out of breath and sweating from jumping on it like a gorilla.

"Gimme a brick! Gimme a boulder! I'll get the God-damned thing open!"

So he grabbed a big rock from the garden and started slammin' it and grunting like a cave man. 

He was mad now. "What's this made out of? Kryptonite?"

Finally after about ten or twelve good whacks it broke open, and the blades fell out and there was this weird radio device inside!

Somewhere miles away alarms were probably going off. Flashing lights at the Gillette factory, the blade police were jumping on their motorcycles...I don't know...but no razor cops showed up, so I guess he must have shattered the homing device.

That's the end of the story. I gotta go shave now.

Steely Dan Plays Gaucho - Wang Center, Boston, July 24, 2009

In 1980 Steely Dan's Walter Becker and Donald Fagen used 42 studio musicians and 11 different engineers to record the album "Gaucho. It took them a full year, even though the album has only seven songs on it.
They are known for their obsessive perfectionism.

Last night I saw them play this entire album in sequence from beginning to end.
I was astounded!

In a word, the entire show was Impressive.

The sound was perfect. I've never heard a better live mix. Crystal clear vocals and all instruments perfectly balanced. It was good and loud, like a rock concert should be, but never painfully loud like some shows
I've seen.
The lighting was mood inspiring and well synched to the music. At times the lighting was dramatic and beautiful.
As for the band:
Every musician on that stage was impressive as hell, but none more than Kieth Carlock on drums.
Kieth, who was voted #2 in Modern Drummer's reader's poll, is a true monster drummer.
Visually exciting to witness, this guy has the chops and the good taste to know how to use them.

Jon Herington shined last night in the intimidating role of lead guitar.
Playing guitar for Steely Dan is no easy job. This is complex music and it takes skill. Jon replicated the solos of the great Larry Carlton and others capturing the tones they achieved perfectly.

Walter Becker played a blue Stratocaster mostly in the out of phase position, clean and bluesy with some tasty jazz licks and the rhythms were spot on. He also sang Daddy Don't Live In That New York City No More, later in the evening. I didn't expect that one, and it was a pleasant surprise.

Donald Fagen was of course the star of the show, a truly gifted songwriter and keyboard player, he gave it everything he had.
Now I admit that he did flub up a few lyrics here and there, but it was amazing to me that anyone could record an album and remember all the words to it 30 years later, especially when you consider that they have never played that album in it's entirety until last night. So he gets a free pass.

The female singers were fantastic, especially during Babylon Sisters, and Hey Nineteen.
The entire crowd sang along to,"The Cuervo Gold, the fine columbian," and the mention of "sweet things from Boston, so young and willing."

I felt a true chill during the song Third World Man. This song was surprisingly powerful played live. The horns were extremely powerful, and the drumming kicked ass. It was visually stunning with the lights so perfectly matched to the music.

When they finished the entire album from start to finish, there was a stunning response from the crowd. I knew I'd seen something very special.
I would have been very satisfied with just that but the night had just begun.

They launched into so many great memorable songs, I can't remember all of them, but I can give you a list of the high points:

Highlights Of The Setlist:

My Old School - Amazing! Horns were killer in this song, and he mentioned Berkeley School Of Music.
Parker's Band- Who would have expected this one? And who would have expected the girls to sing it instead of Fagen?
Peg- Flawless. Sounded just like a record on a phonograph.
Reelin' In The Years - The original version, not the jazz version. Great harmony guitar work.
Don't Take Me Alive- Ouch!
Deacon Blues- My favorite Steely Dan song put a lump in my throat because it brings back memories.
Home At Last - Horns again rose to the occasion, and that shuffle groove from the drums, so nice!

they ended the night with "Dirty Water."
Of course the Boston fans ate that one up and sang along.

Not only was this amazing band able to deliver the goods by replicating their former records, they also improvised brilliantly. I loved it!

One funny tid-bit: In a restaurant, before the show, the waiter asked if we were going to see Steely Dan. We said "yes."
He told us "He's great. I never realized how many great songs he sang."

Kenny Hogan's Blog - The Deep Fog Monologues: Synchronicity On Rollercoaster Road

Kenny Hogan's Blog - The Deep Fog Monologues: Synchronicity On Rollercoaster Road