My Gibson Les Paul

Quoteboard: Tom Ford

"Just because I've become spiritual doesn't mean I can't love crocodile."

Phish Bowl

When a time tested band like PHISH makes a holiday run through the worlds most popular arena on New Year’s weekend, it would be a sinful event to miss.  That’s why my wing man and I made our way to row S on the floor 20 minutes before the show started to make sure we were in the thick of it from the very start.  Well, we were in the thick of it all right, and we came out with a few unsuspecting treats.

Now, the treats at a Phish show come in all different forms.  From the hysterical pre-curtain convo I had with some loon in a tie-dyed T-shirt and 2011 glasses carrying his “meat stick” from the New Year’s Eve show the night before, to the foursome from Vermont’s cover of Walk Away by the James Gang in the middle of the first set that almost blew the roof off the Garden.  The entire night that makes up a Phish show is part musical improv and part magical mystery tour.

To walk into one of their concerts is to jump into a giant Phish Bowl.  These four musicians have got their gig down to a complex science.  Their original songs and the covers they choose take you on an exploratory journey through power chord rock, jazz fusion, bluegrass, funky grooves, country sing-along, and some hippie dippy geeky nonsense that in my opinion doesn’t translate well to the studio albums that Phish puts them on.  Well, my opinion doesn’t matter in the phish bowl, and their loyal fans devour every bizarre note, lyric, and crowd participation moment the band has to offer.  When you mix this cultural concoction and play it through light man Chris Kuroda’s kaleidoscope, the result is an amazing 3-hours of sensory overload. 

They opened the new year with My Soul featuring one of the most basic blues riffs known to the guitar, and the show got a lot more complex and heated from there.  I couldn’t possibly identify their one-word title songs from my place in their fan base, but I was pretty alone there.  As soon as the first note of a new song was released every tweaked fan in the Garden raced to call it – “TUBE dude!” followed My Soul, giant smoke plumes followed, and off we all went on our journey. 

Phish got the entire Garden crowd to bounce for the reggae-like intro to Guelah Papyrus, they played fan favorite Divided Sky, and then hit hyperspace with their blinding version of Walk Away.  I’ve only seen a few bands raise the roof of the Garden to a level like that and I couldn’t help paying them the ultimate concert accolade, aloud to myself as I looked around M.S.G. – “fuckin’ awesome.” 

They touched my oddball favorite Phish album “Farmhouse” with Gotta Jibboo, then again in the second set with a slow and trippy version of Twist.  (I still think that was their best studio album life to date, but I haven’t given them all an equal listen.)

The first set ended with a great chance for Page McConnell to stand out from his post at stage left behind the piano as he pounded away the dramatic chords of Walls of the Cave.  He and guitarist Trey Anastasio are truly impressive showmen and great musicians.  Trey goes nimbly back and forth between blues scales and classical arpeggios and it is next to impossible to figure out where his fingers leave off and his custom Languedoc guitar begins.  One thing is certain.  He is the conductor of the 5-man orchestra known as Phish (remember their fifth man, Chris Kuroda.)

I don’t have as much good to say about bassist Mike Gordon since his incident with the daughter of a Hell’s Angels biker only 9 miles from my house, but let’s not get into that.  He’s a kooky looking bass player that anchors the band pretty solidly.  I really don’t have anything to say about drummer John Fishman.  The guy plays drums in a dress and they named the band after him.

Set two was equally amazing.  They covered Crosseyed and Painless by the Talking Heads and everyone followed the directions in the chorus "saaaaaaail away!”  Then Twist, Simple, the mellow crowd shaker Sneakin’ Sally thru the Alley, and back through Kingston Jamaica with the Makisupa Policeman reggae chant.  They ended set 2 with a driving version of David Bowie and walked off to darkness.

Nobody thought for a second they were done.  It had only been about two and a half hours of music, it was Saturday night, and we we’re in New York – Phish had to leave it all out on stage.  They came back on for Fee and then shocked the crowd for a finale.  Page McConnell grabbed a ferocious keyboard guitar, took center stage and they blasted out a psychedelic roof raising version of Edgar Winter Band’s Frankenstein.  Chris Kuroda took a final opportunity to let the crowd know that the light guy is part of the band because this encore was among the most memorable in my 25-year history of concert attendance. 

I came into the Phish Bowl very relaxed with no expectations.  Like I said, they aren’t my favorite band and they're still not.  However, I walked out wishing there were three more sets and saying to myself – “I’ll come back if they do.”  In fact…I grabbed one last treat on my way out the door.  Madison Square Garden sure is one funky Phish Bowl.

Bring it to New York BITCH !

Saluting "Brute" Krulak

“Being ready is not what matters.  What matters is winning after you get there.”

- Victor “Brute” Krulak

 

Victor Krulak lived from 1913 to 2008.  He saw action in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.  He was a highly decorated marine that hoped to become the next Commandant of the Marine Corps.  Unfortunately, in 1968 President Lyndon Johnson chose someone else, so Krulak retired on the spot.

Historians have said Krulak’s prior comments to President Johnson criticizing the restraints placed on American military operations in Viet Nam resulted in his being passed over for the post.  For expressing those opinions, I just saluted his picture.

p.s. – Victor Krulak’s son Charles Krulak became the 31^st Commandant of the Marine Corps serving that post from 1995 to 1999. 

That is one bad ass gene pool.

Veteran's Day Tribute to a Warrior

Luckily when I make mistakes as a trader, nobody gets shot at or killed.

I experienced a light mental ambush when I heard ECB President Jean Claude Trichet say that he didn’t believe the US was devaluing its currency.  I calculated, as dollar bulls were capitulating around me, that Trichet had just cleared the path for further dollar debasement and Euro appreciation, knowing full well about the battles his currency was about to face.  Obviously there is dissension among his ranks and holes in his armor.  I thought I heard him shouting – “BERNANKE – TAKE ‘em OVER THE HILLTOPS!!” but it wasn’t quite clear with rockets going off all around me.  I thought we should be prepared for the Battle of €1.45. 

As it turns out the inherent issues in Europe have already manifest themselves with Portugal and Ireland trading record spreads from Germany on a daily basis, and the currency has gotten slaughtered.  If it were war my troops wouldn’t have lived to see the light of day.  But it’s only Wall Street where men come to compete at different levels every day.  I get to live through all of those mistakes and keep trying my best.

On the right you will notice that the first man I pay tribute to is the warrior for having vastly more courage than I do and for protecting my way of life.  At a time when the freedom to pursue your dream and the right to life are becoming more and more precious – we damn sure ought to take the time to honor these guys on VETERAN’S DAY.  The lazy bond market and clumsily suited bankers get the day off today but merchants and warriors of trade are at their desks trying to make sense of global markets.  If any of us had the courage and valor of a Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta in this business – they’d probably have been able to retire a long time ago. 

Sergeant Giunta, is 25 years old and the first living recipient of the Medal of Honor – the highest accolade in our military system.  In operation “ROCK AVALANCHE”, in an Afghan mountain ridge, his platoon walked into an L-shaped ambush where, as he put it, “There were more bullets in the air than stars in the sky” and they were being ferociously attacked at close range.  His team was split up and Giunta began following his instinct – “I didn’t have time to think at all, and I didn’t even think about having to think – we were just going.”  During the battle his buddy Josh Brennan went unaccounted for but Giunta had to press on.  By the light of the moon he noticed two of the enemy carrying Brennan away.  He shot one of them in the head, wounded the other, and eventually got Brennan airlifted out of the fierce battle, comforting his friend with eight bullet holes in his body “Dude, this time you’re really going home.”

Salvatore Giunta’s buddy Josh Brennan died the next day at a U.S. military base and shortly after receiving his medal of honor Giunta accepted no credit, rather reminded everyone of the valor of his fallen comrades.

“Every single person that I’ve been with deserves to wear it, deserves to…They are just as much of me as I am.  This isn’t a one man show.”

Be a patriot, be a leader, and be a good teammate at your job and in life but most of all be thankful to our warriors today.  Protecting our cozy way of life isn’t a one man show.  It takes thousands of men like Salvatore Giunta.

Gimme the Gas'

Gaslight Anthem had their first shot at a big time venue Thursday night, September 30th, and they knocked it out of the Music Hall with passion, pace, and a certain musical humility, if there is such a thing in rock n’ roll. When your lead singer introduces the final encore with - "This is the coolest thing we've ever done. I thought I was going to be a gas station attendant.” – you know the band is over the moon about playing Radio City. 

I’ve been listening to Gaslight since their album The ’59 Sound came out in 2008.  If you don’t own it, in trade speak, you’re “short 59 SOUND" and it is rallying.   Start to finish the album takes you on a tour of what the band is all about which is good old fashioned punky rock n' roll.  Pair that with their equally well rounded follow up American Slang, and I've got a reason to be talking about these musicians on the cusp of greatness.  Slang packs that patriotic 'tude that we need more of and doesn't hesitate to genuflect toward the Big Apple in what may be their most impactful chant life to date The Queen of Lower Chelsea.  

Did you grow up a good girl, 

Your daddy's pride?

Did you make all the right moves,

Take all the right drugs right on time?

American girls, they want the whole world

They want every last little light in New York City.

Gaslight does nothing fancy.  They are a garage band operation on the order of Kings of Leon.  They employ the time tested rock formula of singer, guitars, base & drums, they just do it a lot better than most.  Their recipe for success is taking a tremendous amount of passion and firing out to crowd via lead singer Brian Fallon.  The band can bang chords and they will make you stomp your feet to the beat but Brian, like all great lead singers, puts the band into the next class.

Let's get this out of the way now - the comparisons to Bruce Springsteen, whom I vehemently detest, need to stop and they need to stop immediately.  A good band can’t come from New Jersey without Bruce intervening to give them his stamp of approval, a chance they can't refuse to warm up for him, and a cameo on stage at one of their shows.  Gaslight guitarist Alex Rosamilia adds a consistent ability to resurrect anthem type riffs from the same old guitar chords and packs more personality into hammering his E string than the entire E Street Band throws off in a concert tour.  Fallon has pride in Gaslight Anthem and he didn't miss an opportunity to respectfully comment on the incessant references to the Puss', I mean the Boss - “I think it’s one of those things we’re gonna have to wear until it wears out.”  Believe me, he’s none too happy that the music press has him living in Springsteen’s shadow and he doesn’t deserve to any longer.  If you need comparison bands for Gaslight Anthem - try Third Eye Blind, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Green Day, or Social Distortion on for size.  What separates Brian from Bruce is that Brian can actually sing and he's James Dean cool.

On Thursday night they covered some of their best stuff like Old White Lincoln, Miles Davis and the Cool, and I'da Called You Woody Joe in a one hour set of 17 songs, and then came out and blew everyone away with a 7 song encore that included American Slang, The Patient Ferris Wheel, a trippy version of The Queen of Lower Chelsea, and a powerful Backseat to close it.  The crowd was jumping from the get go until the house lights went on, the buzzes were big, and that's how it's supposed to go the first time you play Radio City Music Hall. 

They were a sight to behold on their big night in New York, and even though they hail from across the Hudson in the swamps of Jersey, I'm happy for them anyway.

After all, they're an American band.

I've never felt so strange
Standing in the pounding rain
Thinking about what my mother once said
MAYBE I SHOULD CALL ME AN AMBULANCE