I’m in a ClickHole video.
I’m in a ClickHole video.
We’ve been doing a lot of recording as of late with The French Goodbye. Layin’ down some vocal tracks over last weekend with Greg Norman, but here’s a test pressing of our upcoming 7″ of our past live show at Lincoln Hall. People still listen to vinyl, we tell ourselves.
After refusing to paint his own apartment for 7 years, Sean Ellis broke out the pair of jeans he’d been saving in order to help friend paint a restaurant.
Experts suggest Mr. Ellis had no intention of helping until he remembered the old pair of jeans, located underneath his hamper.
“Well, I guess I could help. I’ve got these jeans,” he said.
After putting on a pair of withered Chuck Taylors, Mr. Ellis returned to the bedroom saying, “Ooh, I think I have a old trucker’s hat too!”
My band The French Goodbye recorded basic tracks this weekend. Did a whole little road trip to Bloomington, IN and hunkered down for two days at Russian Recording. Home of some damn fine cats:
Josie: The constant companion in the control room. Content with sleeping on the warm cabinets and demanding attention and food.
Coop: Pretend you had two furry footballs duct-taped together. That would be the size Cooper the cat. Good for hugs on the couch and moderate use of cat-pillow.
Vivian: What a Disney princess of a kitty. Gorgeous eyes that stole your heart, quick to hide, but also quick to return and admit she’d prefer a belly rub.
Then we also had celebrity cat, lil BUB. THE lil BUB. Smaller in person than you’d imagine, she was happy to be held by her dad, be constantly photographed by us, and chill out under the couch. Her adorable snores reminded us all she was present, and our pictures with her reminded us she is very, very popular on social media.
If you’re a band in need of a good engineer with a good space and gear, and need that creativity bump that comes with a band retreat, I give all the high fives to Russian Recording.
I recommend not being allergic to cats if you record here.
Last night the video for The Nurse Novels “Unbreakable Pocket Comb” premiered at The Midwest Film Festival.
The video was directed by Justin Reid Tvedt, produced by Tony Mendoza, and stars Irene Marquette, Peter Renault and Aarón Alonso. Tony and I destroy the set in between a few shots as well.
Glad to finally be able to share this.
A jack-o-lantern sat staring off into the distance on a porch. The edges around the opening to his eyes, nose, and mouth were darkening. His face slowly curled inward as he quietly imploded. This time on the porch gave him a lot of time to think. About the falling leaves, about people passing by him, about death.
Another pumpkin sat outside jolly and whole. It was decided his fate was to sit happily on a stoop, uncarved and plump until long into the winter. Hands were too clumsy to carve him so the family let him age. On the outside he looked confident, commanded the season in a decorative way. And even though he was rotting on the inside, he stood strong until one snowy December day, he sighed and collapsed in on top of himself.
Other jack-o-lanterns on the block had a more sudden departure. A swift kick demolished three of them at once. In the morning, their pieces lay strewn about on the sidewalk.
“I’m not ready to be compost,” thought the jack-o-lantern.
The jack-o-lantern was given the official name “Jack” by the family who carved him. It was a title that supposedly gave him a personality and defined his character. Made him stand out. But in truth, Jack never really felt comfortable in this face he was given. He felt it was hastily created. Jagged. His features weren’t defined as much as the other jack-o-lanterns he saw. His appearance was frozen into a careless, toothless smile of feigned astonishment. Vacant eyes staring in fake disbelief as if someone spoiled a surprise party for him and yet he still had to act like he didn’t know.
He wasn’t even given a votive. So he sat blankly in the dark as clueless as everyone. He was mad.
“I can help,” he thought. “I can light the way and keep away whatever frightens you in the dark.”
Even despite his facial expression, he felt like he could muster a snarl if the right ghost crossed his path. There were no ghosts, but the family’s cat perched by him and kept him company.
In the beginning of his stay, the family moved Jack around the house. First on the porch, then on the window, but eventually he was brought in and sat patiently on the kitchen table, facing the hearth. He felt hollow inside–not just because his insides had been roasted and devoured, but because he started to think those seeds were the only reason he existed.
“They don’t care about me,” said Jack.
“What makes you say that?” asked the cat.
“I can’t look outside anymore.”
“They like seeing your face. You’re always smiling,” said the cat.
“They just want my seeds.”
“Sounds like a way of saying they care about what’s inside of you,” the cat said smugly, pleased with his statement.
Suddenly pumpkin understood why he was there. He wasn’t looking outside at a world who didn’t need him, he was looking inside at his family. A family who loved his insides and didn’t care about the way he looked. They liked his company during Halloween even though their time together was limited.
That single thought brought him peace. And so, throughout the remaining weeks of November, when cardboard witches and cotton spiderwebs were put back in boxes, the pumpkin sat proudly standing guard and slowly said goodbye to his family. His skin folded in on itself and his smile seemed less surprised. He eyes sagged in quiet contemplation. His expression wilted, but not his spirit.
The family put the pumpkin outside in the crisp autumn air to preserve him longer–he didn’t mind–but the pumpkin didn’t particularly want or need to see the winter’s snowfall.
“Pumpkins are for fall, not winter,” he thought.
The pumpkin once believed he was dead the moment he was plucked off the vine. Being carved was just a quicker way to exit this world. But as he watched his family smiling by the hearth he realized he was like them in some ways. It wasn’t dying he was experiencing, it was life. He left the cozy womb of the pumpkin patch and lived until his body had had enough. Both him and his family knew when it was time to say goodbye to one another. And so they did. And it was a happy Halloween.
Can’t wait to be able to share this short video, but if you’d like to see it sooner than later, you can join us November 4th and see it on the big screen.
Chicago indie rock outfit The Nurse Novels will premiere a music video for the song “Unbreakable Pocket Comb” as part of the Midwest Film Festival Advertising Community Shorts Night.
The video was directed by Justin Reid Tvedt and produced by Tony Mendoza, who wrote and recorded the song with The Nurse Novels.
Tony and Justin collaborated to create a story of passion set in a paper craft world, inspired by the elaborate artwork found on the covers of romance novels.
It features Irene Marquette and Peter Renault as a troubled couple on their way to somewhere out of reach, with Aarón Alonso as a villainous ranch hand. Meanwhile Thea Lux plays drums to Tony’s Farfisa organ, until they too unravel.
Justin employed in-camera special effects to achieve a childlike sense of realism. The sets – both oversized and miniature – were constructed with cardboard, construction paper and glue, adding a whimsical hue to an otherwise dark tale.
The Midwest Film Festival Advertising Community jury selected this video to be showcased at this year’s shorts night, held at Landmark Century Centre Cinema.
After the festival the video will be available via Vevo and Vimeo.
The Nurse Novels “Unbreakable Pocket Comb” Music Video
Midwest Film Festival Advertising Community Shorts NightTuesday, November 4, 2014 – 6pm
Landmark Century Centre Cinema
2828 N Clark, Chicago
$10 general admission
Hollywood: Don’t age.
Renée: But…I have to?
Hollywood: Look young.
Renée: But you hate plastic surgery.
Hollywood: Listen, there can only be like, two older women on screen at a time. Ignore every decrepit, sagging, pockmarked leper of an overweight male actor over 60 who has consistently worked regardless of his fluctuating waistband or decaying youth. You’re not Judi Dench or Meryl–don’t bring up LuPone, she’s stage. Anything goes there. Those two hold the only spots right now. You either have to battle them to the death as they did with their predecessors or just stop pursuing what you’ve dedicated your life to and let us criticize you regardless. Cool?