Whaa.....?  

No time to explain, just check out Episode 1 and I'll tell you later!

Be well

JM

It is a life that I am proud to provide for her, and easily the life that I would have wished for when I was 25.  And I'm thinking about 25 only because I've ben listening with fresh ears to "Enjoy Your Dessert," my first solo album that I recorded at that tender age back in the summer of 1997.  After avoiding that disc for many years and being hyper-critical of myself, for some reason I am now able to appreciate it for what it is: me, at 25, bringing my first batch of "good" songs to a proper studio and going hog-wild all by myself (with super-engineer Charlie Martinez and a few select guests here & there).  Any flaws that I can pick out now are only a result of my own inexperience and naivete.  (It's not easy being green.)  But I'm pleasantly surprised at how well my songwriting holds up (IMHO), and I was not shy about throwing down some fat moving basslines!  

The short backstory is that I was reacting to some of the recording sessions I'd been doing in NYC back in 97.  ProTools was just starting to take over, but the technology was still very new and most engineers didn't know how to handle it, so mots of the tracks sounded like caca-doody-poopoo: cold, metallic, harsh and artificial.  I was also tired of being told what to play, how to play, and being buried in the final mix.  I needed to blow off some steam and DO MY OWN THING. 

So "Enjoy Your Dessert" was all me, all the time, recorded on 2-inch analog 24 track tape.  All edits were done with a razor and sticky tape.  When I put the fretless thru my MXR phaser pedal, the phaser was "printed" to the track and not sent to "another track just in case."  (Just in case…what?  I've decided that I want the phaser, and I'm not changing my mind!  Time's a-wasting, let's go!)  Creative decisions were made quickly, and lived with.  And 13 years later, there are few (if any) regrets.  

If you're curious to hear what me at 25 was all about, "Enjoy Your Dessert" is still available here.  And 2013 marks the 15th anniversary of EYD, which ought to mean some kind of commemorative re-release, right?  Hmm, I still have the tape reels…

"Don't die with your music still in you."

- Wayne Dyer

Be well

JM

who do you think you are not blogging on a regular basis? you can't leave me hanging like that. for years i've faithfully stopped by your site in order to get my regular jpm fix and you give me nothing since september 9. i might as well cancel my internet. what the hell else am i gonna do?

Wow.  You have to admire young Thomas' ability to simultaneously convey both righteous indignation AND high praise!  One should also admire his ability to snap me into action, since…well, here we are.

So to his question: why have I not been blogging?  A good question, which forces me to go deep and ultimately question just about everything I've been doing with myself and how I've been doing it.  My site has mainly served to present and promote myself and my various musical endeavors.  (There's been no "master plan" at work here; my only goal has always been to make good music with good people.)   

When I launched johnmontagna.com in 2004, I was touring with the Alan Parsons Live Project for a considerable amount of weeks out of each year, so there was much to blog about: international travel, thousands of screaming fans, etc.  I also kept a full playing schedule at home in those days, with a handful of local artists who were building new careers from the ground up.  And so it went for several years, with much news about playing and plenty of time during the day to share my tales from the trail with you. 

And then came Francesca, my darling little girl who entered the world in May 2008.  When people who have children tell you that it changes your life, those words are woefully inadequate.  

First, your body re-boots itself.  In my case, this re-boot came in the form of crippling lower back and leg pain caused by a pair of herniated discs.  Forced to re-think how I use my body, I spent 3 months in physical therapy.  As I prepare to enter my 40s, I am now stronger and leaner than I was in my 20s.  (Lifting a 35-pound child, a folded stroller and a stuffed diaper bag up the stairs out of the NYC subway?  No problem!)

And then comes the mind.  When a tiny, defenseless creature who knows nothing about anything is dependent on you for everything, you learn quickly to silence the voices in your head that have been critiquing your every move since music school and, in the words of George Carlin, DROP SOME OF YOUR NEEDS.  Your existential dilemmas, your gen-x post-modern whining and navel-gazing about your "purpose" and "direction" and such nonsense grinds to a splendid halt.  "You and you alone" no longer matter much, and I am here to tell you that it is a tremendous relief!

The "suffering of the artist?"  Gone.  Artistic integrity and creative satisfaction are completely my responsibility now, and both will come from wherever and whenever I decide.  When I'm in my black suit, laying down disco grooves on Saturday nites for rich muckety-mucks in swanky ballrooms, I no longer grumble; I proudly take their 1% cash and use it to fuel my 99% lifestyle.  But when I sit in with my buddies in Wonderous Stories for their regular Wednesday nite classic rock grab bag set at KJ Farrell's  on Long Island, I hit the stage like a bomb and move as many molecules as possible.  And thanx to ProTools and SoundCloud, I write and record my own stuff and share it with the world at a comfortable pace and on my own terms! 

And so, this is where I am right now.  On my couch in sweatpants and bare feet, with a glorious NYC October sun streaming thru the living room window, Jill at the office, Francesca at school, coffee in my tummy.  There's laundry, vacuuming and dishes to be done (always), and errands to run before I pick up Francesca at school.  I may also squeeze out another bumper for WTF with Marc Maron.  Tomorrow nite I'll be back at KJ Farrell's with Wonderous. 

Are all of these things worth blogging about?  Up until now, I didn't think so.  Of course I have my thoughts and stories to tell about my daily experiences, but I can usually condense them to 140 characters on Twitter (and directly from my phone, at that), but Thomas' note has pushed me to work harder and try harder.  But this has always been the case with Thomas; when we attended Berklee together back in 19-shut-your-mouth, his monstrous bass chops and super-human musicianship always put the fear of god in me, sending me back to the woodshed to practice my ass off and never, EVER slack off.  So maybe I will share ALL of my stories and let you, the audience, decide if they are blog-worthy. 

Thank you all for your continued support, faith and enthusiasm.  And Thomas: thanx for kicking my ass yet again.  Love you, bro.

Bass Bros!  L to R: Wes Wehmiller (1971-2005), Thomas Fiorini, JM

Be well

JM

Then the week flew by: Labor Day day off play date first day of school private event band showcase second day of school weekend.  Whaaa..?

Here I am, home for a week, and still floating between my many lives: rock-star-for-hire, father/husband, local working musician, house keeper, citizen of New York City.  I'm rushing to finish the upcoming CD of my music from the top-rated comedy podcast in the nation, contending with as-yet-unfulfilled orders for the recently-released Hay Jude disc, and Google-mapping directions to tomorrow's house party in MT Kisco, NY with Godfrey and the boys (hot & fresh off a summer of touring).  All the while, I'm doing my best to maintain a happy home for my ladies.  And for the record, I will be memorializing the 3,000 souls who left this earth 10 years ago in my own quiet way: living peacefully on Sunday, spending time with my most precious loved ones, and TURNING THE TELEVISION OFF.

I apologize if it has taken me too long to send you your Hay Jude disc, or if too much time has passed between blogs/videos/Beatles reviews/email blasts/etc.  Life keeps happening, and it will not wait for me to edit tour videos or update a website.  Fortunately, I have a small-but-dedicated audience of people who know that Life comes first for me, and I don't take any of you for granted!  

That being said, I think I need an intern.  And a vacation.  

Be well

JM

I've never believed in end times, apocalyptic prophecies, or any of that nonsense, and I still don't.  But after 3 weeks on the road and bus-induced sleep deprivation, Mother Nature's bitch-slapping of NYC had me confronting and challenging my own iron-clad belief systems.  And it was terrifying.  (First an earthquake, now a hurricane.  WTF?)  

Despite all appearances, I was a nervous wreck for a few days.  I started to wonder if I'd actually be spending the end times on a tour bus going thru Kentucky, Illinois and South Dakota.  Panic and dread were making it hard for me to focus.  Onstage I felt like I was phoning my performances in; backstage I was avoiding people because I had nothing to say and couldn't make eye contact with anyone.  I was nervous, restless, pacing around the venue, constantly moving as if I were trying to get away from myself (which I was).     

Mindful living is knowing that we can decide how we react to our experiences.  That's why lukewarm cups of bitter-tasting coffee don't get tossed across the catering room in disgust.  That's why I didn't kick the speakers in when the bass amp crapped out 2 nights ago during soundcheck.  I was keeping it together and behaving rationally, but my anxiety and frustration were still simmering under the surface.  

But last night, I put an end to it.  Nervous, edgy, anti-social…that's not me.  That's not who I am.  Tensing every muscle in my body, in an effort to suppress uncontrollable sobbing fits, doesn't help anyone.  My job right now is to be a calm, reassuring voice on the phone to my family, and then get my ass onstage and rock out.  And that's what I did last night, with the help of my awesome band mates and our tough-as-nails crew.  

I took a deep breath and made the decision to let go of my fear and panic, and act from a place of strength and calm instead.  I hit the stage and let the music wash over me and rejuvenate me, as I have my entire life.  Last night's show in Aurora, IL rocked harder than ever to the sellout crowd, and we all knew it.  The post-gig vibe on the bus was jubilant, as it can only be after a kick-ass, sold-out show.  We all deserved the credit, but I was relieved because I was back, baby.     

Of course I'm concerned for the well-being of my loved ones, and for the well-being of my city.  But my loved ones are doing everything right, and they've got it under control.  My dad is at my place, taking the air conditioners out of the windows.  Jill is strong, smart, and cool under pressure.  Our apartment is in a brick pre-war building, and it's stocked with groceries, flashlights and batteries.  My family is handling their circumstances calmly and efficiently.  I should be doing the same thing.  

I'm incredibly fortunate to do this job, and I'm living the dream.  I'm also a fragile human being sometimes, and occasionally anxiety gets the better of me.  I'm not afraid to admit this, but I'm also not afraid of facing it down and defeating it before it stops me in my tracks.  I also can't always do it alone; I'd like to take this moment to thank Steve Murphy, Toni Freeman Greene, Ian Williams, Mark Volman, and Barron Melton for their calming words of reassurance when I needed to hear them the most.    

Be strong, New York.  Don't be scared, but don't be stupid either.  This, too, shall pass.  

Be well

JM

So let's jump right into it: I do not enjoy being on stage left. I need to be stage right. I'm right-handed, which means that all of my bass playing action happens to my left. I need to look at my left hand working the neck, and see the entire band just past that. It's the only way I can truly connect with my bandmates, "direct traffic" when necessary, etc. When I'm at stage left, it's as if the band is behind me, and I'm constantly looking over my shoulder at the band. Doesn't look good, doesn't feel good.

But: there's two other bassists on this tour: Gerald Johnson (Dave Mason's guy), and Charlie Torres (Rick Derringer's guy). Both monster players, both sweet cats, BOTH LEFTIES.  (What are the chances?)  Hence, bass world is on stage left, majority rules. Honestly, it's nothing I can't handle, and I can certainly be flexible to accommodate my bass brethren. As a great artist once said, "It does disturb me, but I rise above it...I'm a professional."

Gerald was the bassist with the Steve Miller Band for many years; I asked him if that's him on the "Joker" LP and he said "Yep!" Holy crap...my buddy in Oregon sent me a DVD-R of the quad mix of "The Joker" which got nearly constant play in my living room for a while. Can't believe that I'm hanging with the cat who laid down that sweet syncopated shuffle thang on "Your Cash Ain't Nothin' But Trash!" Photos of his lefty P-bass will follow. Meanwhile, Charlie is a buddy of Murphy's from forever, and spent last night on the bus with us playing some great new music for us. Before the end of this tour I will snatch up the new CDs by both Ozzy and Deodato.

Okay. Time to hit the laundry while I still have a chance.

Be well

JM

Happy Together is just too much friggin' fun.  This gang of artistes, band and crew puts on the most enjoyable 2 & 1/2 hours of music I think I've ever been involved with.  Last nite at Chumash was our last show for a few days, and even though it was a "casino set" (20 minutes each, all artistes slashing their set lengths down to "sampler plate" size) we all rocked it hard.  So proud impressed with all of us, with our level of cooperation and communication to make huge changes on the fly with no hassle whatsoever.  Special mention to stage tech Ray, who switched out a blown 4X10 cab so fast that The Association hardly noticed anything unusual going on behind them!  We really are Happy Together.

Today is strictly a travel day; the band flies across the US to Bergen, NJ to meet up with the HippieFest bus.  Then it's on to Wilkes-Barre, PA for tomorrow's first HF show for us.  Felix Cavalerie, Gary Wright, Rick Derringer, Mark Farner and Dave Mason await.  HF is sort of like Happy Together's pot-smoking older brother, who has his own room in the basement with a more expensive stereo system.  (Happy Together is 45s in mono, HippieFest is LPs in stereo.)  Band will have very little time for pleasantries: meet the artistes, run each set at soundcheck, hit it.  This is what we do.  

I will make it.  I will stretch, shower, pack my stuff effectively, and be in the lobby 10 min before the call.  Even though my body is struggling to awake, and my stomach is saying "Really?  Lobster mac & cheese at midnight?  Have you learned nothing?"  Phone and iPod are fully charged, "plane clothes" are laid out.  Paper trail of receipts was organized yesterday, no more scraps littering the Swiss Army knapsack.   

Cloudy and cool in Santa Barbara, don't have anything with long sleeves with me.  Will pick up yet another hoodie from the road to protect me from unexpected temperature drops (bus and most venues are arctic-blast air conditioned).  Let's move! 

Be well

JM

Ozark Fairgrounds was HOT.  Literally, as in real-feel temps of 104.  Giant outdoor festival stage, covered only with a lighting rig.  Amps and DI boxes hot to the touch.  Stage almost burning my feet thru my shoes.  Sweat dripping in our faces during soundcheck.  Honey bees circling the catering area during dinner.   I would like to thank my beloved Spector Rebop bass for coping so diligently with the drastic changes in climate: cold overhead bin, hot rental van, cold tour bus, hot stage, my sweaty hands.

What else happened…oh yeah: Jim Yester, vocalist and guitarist and founding member of The Association, didn't make the gig.  Not sure what happened, possibly a cancelled flight, faulty GPS, something of that nature.  I'm sure I'll get the full story when I see him tonite.  The remaining Associates (Russ Giguere and Larry Ramos) still delivered the goods, but Jim's absence necessitated some quick changes to their set.  Long story short, their 1966 debut hit single "Along Comes Mary" was sung by…ME.  

This is where 15 years of singing first dances at wedding gigs pays off.  I pulled the lyrics off the internet, pasted them into a text file in the largest type possible, propped the MacBook up on a guitar amp and, if I may say so, nailed it dead in the pocket.  If you're not familiar with the song, or its crazy hazy 60s lyrics ("when vague desire is the fire in the eyes of chicks whose sickness is the games they play…" etc), click here to check it out.

We have just pulled up to the Fraze Pavillion in Kettering, Ohio.  I have to believe that this magical place will have fresh hot coffee, and a comfortable empty room for some yoga-type stretching.  I'm having a harder time sleeping on the bus than I used to, but I'm doing my best to counteract the road lifestyle with some healthy maintenance: stretches, LOTS of water, power naps, etc.  I also have Mark "Life-extension" Lindsay coaching me on vitamins, exercise, and overall self-preservation so that I can continue rocking out into my 60s and beyond as he has (Lindsay is 69, and can kick your ass you punk).

More videos and blogs and such to follow.

Be well

JM