TIME.

So many people run for the train
Disheveled and breathless and desperate,
Complaining of lateness for whatever cannot begin
At a destination they have yet to be in
Whereas I walk my own pace
And in doing so
Cultivate presently all that I know
Which is; Time is illusory,
The clock is a grid
As at odds with itself as the ego and id
And when I walk with purpose
I'm taking My time
Instructing the outcome events in my stride
Conscious that I am creating my world
Out of moments I carry with me and unfurl
Like I'm splattering paint on a bare, empty canvas
Or spilling light into unknowable dark
And more often than not I have witnessed
The train tracks flooding with sparks
At the moment my feet touch the boarding platform;
My arrival's departure from what is the norm
Allowing me freedom and fluidity
To float through the threshold with unparalleled ease
As I hear 'Stand clear of the closing doors, please'
I smirk to myself because I've learned the secret
While holding the handrail or finding a seat,
I'll get there when I'm meant to, I'm certain of this
If I'm clenching my jaw and squeezing my fists and
Fighting against that which has no existence
Outside the confines of my very own mind
Spinning and spitting and cursing my own time
It takes on a power in staunch opposition
To me til I'm on an impossible mission
And soon won't comply to my petty resistance
And when I need help offers little assistance
To what I imagine, in ill-conceived notion,
That chaos should grant me it's utter devotion
Why so many struggle and so many fail
To recognize rational reason. The rail
Is as fictional now as an old fairytale;
A journey enchanted and every detail
Of it's plot strung together like cars on a cable
Fabled to run on a structured timetable
But time doesn't tell you and me what to do-
YOU make time, when you make time work for you

GROUPIES.

The vernacular. What is and what isn't.
Common misconceptions, misunderstandings, and misuses of terms.
Let's set the record straight shall we?

By Laurie Lehner


It drives me nuts when people confuse these terms and their meanings so I thought I'd take this opportunity of supreme boredom, joblessness, and solitude to define them, once and for all. So here's the truth... According to me...

Fan.
You know the hits, you buy the music, you go to shows. You show your support for the artist(s) with your money, your time, your ears and your heart.

True Fan.
The above applies, plus- You've got all the unreleased shit, you're in the fan club, you stand in line for tickets. You accept the music and the artist(s) into your life. You wear the t-shirts, you understand the music they make and believe in what they're doing in the world, you care about the band as if they are your secret friends. They are.

Die-hard Fan.
All of the above, plus- You go above and beyond to express your love for and to the artist(s). You make signs for the concerts, you run like hell to get a good spot in general admission, you go to as many shows as your financial scenario will allow and then some. You befriend other fans of the band solely based on the fact that you've got that in common and forge some real and genuine friendships with those folks. You promote the artist(s) to non-fans, you get a band-related tattoo, you make your favorite tune your wedding song. Most likely you've been a fan for years and years. You do anything and everything you can to feel as connected to them as possible at all times. And you do whatever's necessary to bestow yourself with the full experience, whatever that means to you. If you have to wait for hours in the rain to see the tour buses speed by, and that's what fills your heart with joy, you'll do it.

Superfan.
All of the above AND the band knows who you are, digs your devotion and when your paths cross, as they might, they respect you for being you. You're a cool chick or dude and someone the band, band member or rockstar has become accustomed to seeing at the gigs or posing for a quick pic with from time to time. You exchange a kind word, they know your name, remember details from your previous exchanges and they enjoy making your acquaintance. You may even be a comforting sight, valuable opinion and/or something of a lighthouse for them in the dark and stormy seas of a fast-paced business within their whirlwind lifestyle.

Fair-weather fan.
You "love" your favorite band until they make an album you don't like, play a set you don't like, release a song you don't like. You'll find a grievance about ticketing, seating, touring, things beyond the band's knowledge or control and find a message board on a fan site to bitch about it. Odds are this has less to do with them and more to do with you as a person and your tendencies toward spewing your dissatisfaction when things don't 'go your way'. As in every kind of relationship, sometimes it's beautiful and sometimes its a shitstorm. You're either in or you're out.

Crazy fan.
There's an element of negativity or malice involved. You "want" something from them you think you are entitled to or they aren't even aware they "owe" you. Attention usually. They can spot you from a mile away. And so can their security. Just be cool, alright?

😝Fan girl/boy.
You're annoying about it. You chase the artist(s) around like a dog after a firetruck. Your over-the-top obsession is juvenile and only other fan girls/boys can even tolerate to be around you. If you come within earshot of the artist(s) or closer you scream, ask stupid questions, and quote band stats to them. ("Remember that solo you played on 9/18/02?!?" They don't.) You've got no finesse and don't know how to behave around someone who excites you. This is most often confused for and referred to as "groupie" by the layman, which couldn't be more inaccurate or insulting to the true groupie. Read on.

Backstage sneaker.
You are a fast talker and either literally sneak or swindle your way in behind the scenes. You're not afraid to ask for what you want directly, which does inspire the likelihood of your achieving it. You've got to be a little pushy, but likable, to be successful here. Your actions are a bit risky but the reward is high so you're willing to take the risk. The skill here is directly proportional to how famous the band is, as it becomes increasingly difficult to do on the large scale. Only a certain type of personality can pull this off, let alone repeatedly. (I, personally, find this most objectively impressive as I do not have what it takes.)

⚠Celeb Hanger-On. (Vibe Sucker)
Somehow you get backstage. Either you 'know' someone on the show (acquaintance or removed family relation to band, crew, management, or venue worker) or someone you know does and you nagged them until they gave you the extra pass just so you'd shut up about it. This is not to say that anyone who fits the criteria is a hanger-on. (Scoring a sweet ticket and a backstage pass doesn't make you a vibe-sucker. I don't mean to imply that I would begrudge anyone their 15 minutes with their favorite celebrity just because they are a casual guest.) This term refers specifically to someone who doesn't particularly give a crap WHO they get to hang with, as long as the 'who' in question is famous. It's thrilling for most everyone, myself included, to encounter a random celebrity. People who are famous themselves even enjoy it, because, let's face it, everyone is a fan of someone. And most everyone gets a kick out of seeing someone in real life that has only been viewed on film or in a magazine. But in this case there is a 'distance' involved. Some degrees of separation. You're not exactly, unwelcome, but there's no good reason for you to be there either. And you know it. You're only around because shamelessly trying to befriend a famous person in general, regardless of who they are or if you're even a fan, makes you feel cooler than you feel by consorting with the regular folk. You later name-drop and brag about your experience with good fortune to anyone who will listen. You add nothing to the scenario per se. You just suck all the awesome out of everyone cool and talented in the room as if you can harness it within yourself. You cannot.

Stalker.
You. Are. Dangerous. Your obsession has crossed over into psychosis. You've created some kind of scenario in your head with the artist that doesn't, has never and will never exist. You're lurking around every corner and can't see that your warped view of the rockstar/fan relationship is not reality. You try to communicate with the artist(s) and if you are in any way successful at that, what you communicate is very confusing because they don't know what you're talking about. You try to force the fiction you've manifested therefore frightening the artist(s) and causing them to retreat and keep you as far away as possible. You are completely out of touch with reality and cannot be trusted.

Star-Fucker
Seemingly self explanatory, perhaps not. In my opinion, this term relies more on your headspace than your body. There is a great divide between the glitzy glamour facade of 'the rockstar' and 'regular ol' you'. And YOU'RE the one who puts it there. The star recognizes that they themselves are just a person, but you do not. They may enjoy how you view them and there can be a mutual, albeit shallow, gain. But in the end, you're only mind-fucking yourself.

Slut.
Music or no music. Band or no band. Rockstar or no rockstar. Sluts are sluts. Period. You hand out sexual favors to the crew in exchange for tickets or passes. Might as well be a handful of dollars. You're a prostitute. No one values you as a person or respects you in the slightest. You are used, passed around, thrown away like a used tissue and ridiculed after you've gone. Get off your knees, girl. You're better than that.

Wife/Girlfriend.
Not a Groupie. At any given time you are either one, the other, or neither. You could perhaps be a 'former' groupie, ("I'll tell you where wives come from. They come from the third row." -Willie Nelson) And in that case; Congratulations! You've broken through the elusive forcefield. It's not an easy task. I'm envious of you and it's probably well-deserved. But most likely you're just a girl who met a boy when the boy had a dream which you supported and you are the only one since deemed worthy to be entrusted with the queen's scepter. You've been around since the tour bus was a smelly old broken-down van and you were one of the original *muses (*see muse). You may even be the mother of the rockstar children. You're livin' the good life on all surface fronts. Beware of groupies.

Groupie.
You love the band and the band loves you back. Its a flat out lovefest. You are the chosen one and receive extra special treatment from the band and crew. They appreciate YOU specifically being there, as your presence brings an element that no one else's does. Being a true groupie is a skill that cannot be learned or taught. It's an indefinable quality you possess which flows freely and is blatantly apparent to everyone who shares a room with you. You are magic. You are, within yourself, something of a celebrity and somehow harness what that is without necessarily possessing the creative skill of those whom you admire. However, many groupies are quite talented artistically and otherwise in their own right. You are the promoters, the truly successful rabble-rousers, cheerleaders, and crowd-pleasers. You are the dancers, the singers, the optimists, the spirited, the free-flowing flower children, the joy rakers and the love makers. You are the psychics, mediums, the clairvoyent, the gypsies, the nomads. The ringleaders, the acrobats, the firedancers, the freakshow, the whole damn wild, wonderful, colorful circus. You are musicians, poets, writers, journalists, artists, and human time capsules who become the moments of rock and roll and meaningful art and music you experience in the unique way you are able to. And you see it as an honor, as something to be respected, not abused and you recognize the remarkable blessing bestowed upon you  There might be more of a discreet interaction between the two parties, band and groupie, or there might not be. Either way, you are given the opportunity to be 'around' and you know how to be cool about it. You are INVITED (without asking or trying, see *Backstage Sneaker) into the show, backstage, to private parties, to the hotel, on the tour bus. You forge genuine friendships and relationships with the artists and crew. While you idolize the band and may be in awe of their talent and lifestyle, you are naturally somehow, perhaps inexplicably, a part of it. You slide right into the pre-existing atmosphere but also bring something unique and interesting with you to the table. There is a MUTUAL admiration between you and the band. I can't stress that enough. You are intrigued by what they do and they are intrigued by what you do. If the affection is one-sided, I'm sorry to tell you, but you are a fan. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) BEING A GROUPIE DOES NOT NECESSARILY MEAN THERE IS SEX INVOLVED. Sometimes there is, sometimes there isn't. Just like real life. But unlike real life, there exists a fairytale land no one knows about, through a door no one can see, to which, you hold the key. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. And you are a groupie.

❗Supergroupie.⭐

My gosh, you've been flying around the music scene, shining your light and shaking your ass with so many top acts for so long they gave you a big, red cape! Your stellar reputation precedes you. You walk into a show and people you've never met know who you are. You command the scene with your mere presence and eyes are on you just as much as they are on the guys on stage. You are a powerhouse of mystique with a side of awesomesauce. You are, in a word, LEGENDARY. Go on, girl.

Band-Aid.
A term, I *believe coined by Cameron Crowe for the 2000 film Almost Famous. I've used it in reference to myself when I'm in a situation where the term 'groupie' is or will most certainly be misunderstood and I only have the time, will or energy to explain what it isn't by comparison as opposed to what it is. I don't love it, but I don't hate it. It's a synthetic term for a word who's name has been dragged through the mud by envious on-lookers, the 1980's, and those claiming or mistakenly perceived by others to be groupies but who are actually just sluts or fan-girls. Back in the days of rock n' roll, bands were called 'groups'. A girl who got to hang around with the groups were called 'groupies'. It's as simple as that, kids. Referring to a 'fan' as a 'groupie', then or now, is merely an exaggeration meant to portray, and mildly poke fun at, the depth of said fan's devotion to their favorite group by either an on-looker or the fan themselves. The real life and times of the true groupie is sacred and such a mystery, such an anomaly that, over time, the hyperbole has replaced the definition.

💓Muse.
Your personal relationship with the artist has reached such a height that you inspire any number of varied emotions within them which in turn is reflected in the unique way they express themselves. (All artistic mediums apply.) The most common of these emotions being lust, longing, even love. If the artist of your affection loves you, they are as enamored as you are with them by all that you are and write their songs, music and/or lyrics for you, to you, about you, in your honor or with you in mind. You inspire and therefore have become a part of the music you love. It is THE HIGHEST honor.

And there you have it. The terms of the trade clearly defined and officially stated by yours, truly. Hope you enjoyed reading it. I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Loveyoubye.


Conversations w/ my Better Self (Break Ur Mould)

I look at myself like I'm somebody else
And I'm observing this situation from somewhere faraway
And I talk to myself like I am somebody else
Somebody tellin me that it's gonna be alright
Somebody beggin me to fight the fight

I've been here before, when I was somebody else
And I might be back this way again
But by then I'll be someone new
And I'll give it another try cause that's all I can do
But if I come back I'm comin back for you

And I know you're gonna take me to that other place
Cause I see the invitation written on your face
Tho I can't make out all your letters
I believe I'm getting better now I know the way

And I'd like to think it's by your side where I belong
Cause I helped you write the lyrics to your siren song
And if you wanna get em all to know your name
And you're still losin at your own game
You might be playin wrong

I wanna blow on your dice before you throw your roll
I wanna send all your circuits into overload
I wanna spark your fuse then I wanna watch you explode
I wanna get out ya way so you could take your shot
And I'll bet your bottom dollar that it's all you got

I wanna break your silence and then I wanna break your mould

And I know you wanna take me to that other place
Cause I see the implications written on your face
And if you wanna get him at his little game
Because you got yourself a little fame
You might be playin wrong

I wanna blow on your dice before you throw your roll
I wanna send all your circuits into overload
I wanna spark your fuse then I wanna watch you explode
I wanna get in your way so when you take your shot
You get alla this cause alla this is whatcha got

I wanna break your silence and then I wanna break your mould

I wanna blow on your dice before you throw your roll
I wanna send all your circuits into overload
I wanna spark your fuse then I wanna watch you explode
I wanna get out ya way so you could take your shot
And I'll bet your bottom dollar that it's all you got

I wanna break your silence and then I wanna break your mould

(I look at myself like I'm somebody else
And I talk to myself like I am somebody else
Somebody on their knees beggin me to fight
Somebody tellin me that it's gonna be alright)

(I've been here before, when I was somebody else
And I might be back this way again
But by then I'll be someone new
And I'll give it another try cause baby that's all you or I can do)
But if I come back
If I come back

I'm gonna blow on your dice before you throw your roll
I'm gonna send all your circuits into overload
I'm gonna spark your fuse then I'm gonna watch you explode
I'm gonna get out ya way so you could take your shot
And I'll bet your bottom dollar if that's all you got

I'm gonna break your silence and then I'm gonna break your mould

I wanna blow on your dice before you throw your roll
I wanna send all your circuits into overload
I wanna spark your fuse then I wanna watch you explode
I wanna get out ya way so you could take your shot
And I'll bet you your last dollar that it's all you got
I wanna break your silence
I wanna break your silence

I'm gonna break your silence
and then I'm gonna break your mould

Arson

/>
All I remeber is the smell, the taste of embers in my face, the wall of yellow light, the crackle, the height, the song that I was humming as I detonate the night. Mmmm...
Well, I'm dancing in this cage and I bang my knees up and they bruise for days and I don't know why there's blood on the floor and I don't recall the sound of my own breath anymore. And I looked to you, and you showed me the sky and said, "I shot you down because you flew too high". And the key turned and my eyes burned and I heard the music play, Mmmm...
If there's a chance I could get away
It passed long before this song I sing today.
I can't fly, run, got no shotgun then I heard the voices say... 'Arson'
Mmmm...
Keep breathing into the flame. It isn't real, it's just a game and we're all gonna die anyway. Keep breathing with your face to the floor. It's only believing that you aren't you anymore.
I will not act or play stupid for fools, blind to the machine can't see we're just working tools while you use me to my full extent, while I say 'Please' and 'Thank You' and wonder where I went. And you can't take it. And you can't take it down. And you can't take this fire from me until I burn this shit to the ground.
All I remeber is the smell, the taste of embers in my face, the wall of yellow light, the crackle, the height, the song that I was humming as I detonate the night. Mmmm...

Today

was the most perfect, magical, satisfying day.

One Hell Of An Open Mic Night

(article excerpt. on Examiner.com!!!)  :) :) :)

...host Jason Liles singing an outstanding cover of The Black Crowes "Oh Josephine," with harmonizing vocals from Laurie Lehner. Lehner, who would also have a gorgeous, powerful solo set, will be filling in for Liles as host while he tours with his band.

In a perfect summary of the community feel, Lehner says, "It's like a Monday night on Broadway -- people come when they're not with their regular work, just to jam out with each other."

VIDEO- http://www.examiner.com/local-music-in-new-york/a-sample-of-hell-gate-social-s-open-mic-night-video

Continue reading on Examiner.com: One Hell of an Open Mic Night - New York Local Music | Examiner.comhttp://www.examiner.com/local-music-in-new-york/one-hell-of-an-open-mic#ixzz1L2rdEjXb

http://www.whyleaveastoria.com/profiles/blogs/when-musicians-dont-leave

KEANU by Laurie Lehner

I wrote this song about 6 years ago. One of my first ever!

I was out with my girls in the summer, after dark
We were uptown, the 70's, near Central Park
Friday night cocktails, cool breeze in the air
outside a trendy new lounge with a club downstairs

And it was cosmos and gossip amid Marlboro smoke
then a stranger leaned over as I was tellin' a joke
"You guys got a cigarette?" were the words he spoke
it was Keanu Reeves, sippin' on a Jack and Coke

And then we said, "Sure!"
And then he said, "So, what's the occasion?"
And we talked with Keanu a little bit more
And found ourselves tossing him cigarettes 'til a quarter to...
2, 3, 4!

Keanu, I need to sit here all night waitin' for you
to bum another smoke from me
Keanu, the time flew. It's been great, now it's late
but it was awful nice to hang with you

Then he held my hand in a lengthy embrace
And a sad, sad smile came across his face
And as he stood from his chair to wave goodbye
I could have sworn I saw a tear in Keanu's eye...

And then he said, "...Whoa"
And then he just started quoting Shakespeare
And we said, "Hey, Keanu, it'll be alright
Just imagine we're sittin' here next to you for the rest of the night"
'Cause, Keanu I'd love to sit here all night waitin for you
to bum another smoke from me
Keanu, how I love you
'Cause now you're so much more to me
than just 'that guy who starred in Speed'
Keanu...

-Laurie Lehner

True story, Every word. I think it happened in 2005 at Evelyn Lounge in NYC which is, sadly, no longer. ;)

ARSON

All I remeber is the smell, the taste of embers in my face, the wall of yellow light, the crackle, the height, the song that I was humming as I detonate the night. Mmmm...
Well, I'm dancing in this cage and I bang my knees up and they bruise for days and I don't know why there's blood on the floor and I don't recall the sound of my own breath anymore. And I looked to you, and you showed me the sky and said, "I shot you down because you flew too high". And the key turned and my eyes burned and I heard the music play, Mmmm...
If there's a chance I could get away
It passed long before this song I sing today. I can't fly, run, got no shotgun then I heard the voices say... 'Arson'
Mmmm...
'Just keep breathing', that's what I say. It isn't real, it's just a game and we're all gonna die anyway. Keep breathing with your face to the floor. It's only believing that you aren't you anymore.
I will not act or play stupid for fools, blind to the machine can't see their just working tools while you use me to my full extent, while I say 'Please' and 'Thank You' and wonder where I went. And you can't take it. And you can't take it down. And you can't take this fire from me until I burn this shit to the ground.
All I remeber is the smell, the taste of embers in my face, the wall of yellow light, the crackle, the height, the song that I was humming as I detonate the night. Mmmm...

FUCK LOVE, MAKE ART

For the past few years, we've assigned a motto to each year. A theme, which can manifest itself as a resolution for the next year, a prediction or sometimes a description for the year as it's unfolding. It can be an ironic observation, or a change or improvement we'd like to see/participate in for ourselves. Correction, truthfully, I don't even know if we can take credit for these. The year really chooses a name for itself. We just identify at what point it becomes undeniable that the year has done this.  We feel out where everyone's at in this 'life of an artist' thing we embark on together as a joyful family of such people and a sort of general status emerges, or a median, and after enough deliberation under the influence of talent juice and other creative stimulation, hilarity ensues, like it do. And we laugh and laugh and rejoice and make it offisch. Based off of feelings, conversations, musings and ambitions for the next commemorative pressing of the national theoretical reset button.  Once chosen, we call upon it frequently during rants, cheers, pep talks and other necessary moments in time.

 In 09, it happened in February. We were making awesome silly homemade ROCKIN' anti-Valentines to hand out to the band, our friends and some to leave on the tables as band propaganda for perspective fans at the Pie Boys' gig at L.I.C Bar 2/14/09 (where they debuted this song)
Using index cards, construction paper, sharpees, glitter pens and those crazy scissors that cut and leave a border design(!) we adorned them each with original and personalized designs and sayings, while very high, and watching Coming to America!
Some of my favorites were;
I <3 the Band
I <3 my Weed Guy
Love is Dead. Long Live ROCK!
Condoms are expensive, Let's just be friends!
I like your face from the left side.
My cat thinks you're sexy.
I like your sparkly blue eyes.
HEY! --> (I'm not with this guy)
FRIENDS! (go down on each other, right?)
...and many others! (that I can't remember)
*** UPDATE*** (Found the old journal)
Suck it, Love!
Sorry, I'm taken! (Unless you're a musician...)

"No More Bullshit Tour 09".

 It was about 1/3 of the way through 2010, during/after March Madness we appropriately realized, for better or for worse, in terms of how we viewed this year like it was a room we were trapped in ever swiftly filling up with an unidentified, possibly toxic, liquid substance we were hilariously "Balls Deep in Twenty-ten". That realization was solidified when we experienced the double-entendre of the phrase's initial intention, which referred to how hard we were gonna roll into this year.

As for 2011, I think there is an overwhelming vision looming of artistic revolution. That is certainly true of myself, and it seems, all my magical lady friends. Everyone's pumped. Everyone's ready. It's happening now. now. now! It's time to turn the adoration and affection for talented boys and other rock stars inward. I suspect it will do me more good that way than it has so far. Believe in ME! Support for ME! Success for ME! This is the year we all get it together and make it happen, but this time for REALSIES. It's a reinvention on a motto of yesteryear. And it's about damn time. After all, everything good needs replacing. 2011;

AS 4/23/07

4/23/07

A swirling aura of calm and light. Surrounding. This innate sense of quiet beauty. Private and intimate.  Incubating it until I'm ready to share it with the world as now it may be contaminated. Inevitabilities of that which is Universal, revealing themselves AS a secret whispered between two connected souls and, in understanding have always been one, presently acknowledge. AS a soft inviting beam of light rises of a dark place. AS a first meeting of eyes in a world where we do not see each other. The ultimate understanding. Acceptance. Approval. of everything I am. Clouded with self-doubt, these years of uncertainty absolved. AS. You kneel before the son of God asking only permission to celebrate Him. He places His palm upon your humble forehead and echoed in your mind you hear, as if hearing were for the first, Child, You Are Worthy. And you arise AS one filled with love, and power of mind, with soul enriched and so, with capability of hand. A freedom, a wisdom allowing purest accessibility to that which you have only dreamed could be. Imagined so. A state of being long awaited with a faith which betrays the skeptic.  With a truth which invalidates the jaded.  With such certain divination, which annihilates the cynic.  An all-devouring apocalyptic renaissance beginning within and spreading outward in concentric circles.  AS rippling kinesis bleeds illumination to the farthest reaches of the Universe and back again.

Road Trip to Mars 2008

My little prophet on guitar coming through must be millions of me's here for only one you so you waited and you weighed it and the heavier that it grew on your mind made you want to, made you wonder What if. Is this some kind of a rouse but you keep singing your blues to your brown haired, green eyed, seventh row muse Do you steal her aside no you just wave from your ride so if you meant what you said then i think that you lied Cause we were LIVE! from Here comma Here, USA where you just rolled in today so they can all scream while you're playing with my depth perception between here and the moon til the gravity lifts and when there's none left in the room I'll float upside down til my eyes fill with stars and the people around me drive their hybrid cars on my Road Trip to Mars you got me hitchin to Venus but I don't need their gasoline cuz it flows intravenous He found me in the stratosphere that you kept in between us now you look back down to earth to see me straddling his genius Inside your disaster and fighting to get just a little bit closer is not what I'm after. I've loved you from here but I'm here for the show,sir If you can't escape from the jaws of the image you had that you never proposed her It isn't my bad. Still I'm just a smiling face on a poster Strangely confused, she'll no longer excuse all the things you don't do despite the words that you choose to be the man that you are living light years apart in your fantasy lost and forsaken your art to me you all are the same cuz you'll all fuckin tease us but you all like to fuck and don't you all look like Jesus up there breaking our bread and bleeding our wine when your Bordeaux drips from the same vine as mine My little prophet on guitar coming through must be millions of me's here for only one you so you waited and you weighed it and the heavier that it grew on your mind made you want to, made you wonder What if. Is this some kind of a rouse But you'll keep singing your blues

Albums I Don't Have

This is a list of music I LOVE and am very familiar with, but don't actually own a copy of. Instead, when I go to record stores, I visit with them. Find them alphabetically in the stacks and grin like a fool as I remove them each from their beds, say 'hi' to my dear friends and think about an extraordinary encounter I've had with something to do with the record, before returning them to their respective homes. I like it that way. Makes it feel more...honest. This is rock n roll. You can never really hold on to any of it.

(Click on the box on the top right corner of the page for music samples for these albums, and more!)

Them Crooked Vultures
"Well if sex is a weapon then SMASH! BOOM! POW! How do ya like me now?"


Here's the story. February of last year saw this supergroupie's dream band at Roseland Ballroom, and at the forefront of my musical agenda. Tickets were general admish and astronomical (in the hundreds) and I haven't had a spare dollar on me since the 90's when I was a kid and we still told ourselves it was worth something. So we circled the block a few times with a smoke we had bummed  from the guy at the stage door, who was in a full snowsuit. Oh yeah it was FREEZING and we stood outside and danced around that door for HOURS before the show. And we looked cute. I mention this because women know that 'cute' and 'warm' is a choice you must make. At one point, around 7pm, the door swung open and Josh Homme appeared hanging out of it with a Corona in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other (looking sexier than I was prepared for... after all, we were there for Grohl) to welcome Fred Armisen from SNL where they had musical guested the night before. We made eye contact. It was awesome. Also, John McEnroe sauntered up to the door and gave his name to the guard who found it on a list and allowed him into the sold out show. "Who the hell does McEnroe know?" It's still a mystery. And then there was us. Giddy and goofy and literally dancing on the street to the music of the opening band that we could hear through the wall to keep warm. Excited for the show we didn't have tickets for, as usual. A crew guy wanted us inside. He did the best he could to come up with some tickets. No avail. The show is about to begin when the snowsuit clad door dude we had bummed a smoke from earlier appeared (I'd be a dirrrrrty liar if I said this wasn't our plan from the start) asking 'Do you ladies have tickets?' 'Nope!' He goes inside and several minutes pass. He walks back out the door, crosses over to us and, like a spy, says, "Alright ladies here's what's gonna happen. In 2 minutes when he's done with his cigarette, you're gonna follow this guy inside, you're gonna walk fast, he's gonna dump you in the crowd, you're gonna have a good show. Sound good?" And we're IN. We followed instructions perfectly (you must ALWAYS) and landed at the bar, got us a beer and maneuvered ourselves up against the right side of the stage, 15 ft from JPJ with a clear shot of the Grohl, in a tank top, dumping the water from his bottle over his head and shaking out his long dark hair. Oh and drumming like the best alternative animal ever. It was rock and roll pornography, for free. Thank you life! You know why? Cause we were supposed to be in there. Cause we REALLY appreciated it. If you're meant to be somewhere, you know it, and you get in. Money can have absolutely no bearing on the scenario. The love is strong, you get in.

All Rebel Rockers
"I Say Hey I'll be gone today but I'll be back comin' around the way. It seems like everywhere I go, the more I see, the less I know but I know one thing, that I love you"


Say Hey (I Love You) was instantly my favorite song and turned out to be the band's first top 40 Billboard hit, featured on this record. I learned the words to this song while I was on the road with the band in the summer of '08, when Michael would teach it to each new audience. "This is a new song. I wanna teach it to you. It goes like this. 'I say Heyyyyy..." (and the audience would sing it back to him, 'I say Heyyyyy'...) And he would go through each line of the chorus, with the audience echo, and then start the song, so everyone could sing along.
Then the album came out. And it hit the airwaves. And the next year when Michael would introduce the song to a new audience in a new venue, he started off just like the year before, "This is a new song. I wanna teach it to you. It goes like this. 'I say Heyyyyy... But now, everyone was already singing along.


Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King
 "He'll never catch her, but he can't stop trying"


 Yes. It's true. It's like, too precious to touch.
Roi. I got to see Roi's 2nd and 3rd to last performances. Blessed. He walked into a crew party in Camden in '07, stood right next to me for seconds while he surveyed the room, then quickly decided it was too much, and walked out again. I'll never forget it.
I got a big ol' sweaty hug from Boyd at that party. A real hug. His huge joyous grin inches from my face as he listened to me babble about his musical genius, and his tee-shirts.


I want it on vinyl.

Fate

You brought me to her house and we sat around with the crew
Yeah, you brought me to her house and went off and made music like you do
And she handed me a cup of water and I never knew
that she expected you to stay, cuz she thought she was with you

And how can I still be tormented by how you are and what you've done?
Why do I look around the room and see myself in every one
of the beautiful and dutiful girls who've sacrificed a soul
to the lost cause that is searching for your light in the blackest hole

Cuz all of us in love, and once in love, with you just wanna be
sure that what it is about you that we love will someday see
the sunlight someday when you emerge from underneath that weight
and I'll be standing in the back and smiling because it's fate

One day you meet a guy who takes your breath away from you
and you fall madly, and gladly, too
And you think that he's 'the one' and something's finally gonna work
and a year and a half later you're still finding out how wrong you were

So I brought me to her house and we sat around discussing you
Yeah I brought me to her house and wound up making music like we do
And the bigger picture here resides outside the frame of mind
that pits woman against woman for the sake of all mankind

Cuz all of us in love, and once in love, with you just wanna be
sure that what it is about you that we love will someday see
the sunlight someday when you emerge and I can hardly wait
to be standing in the back and smiling
or maybe I'll be dancing in the front and smiling at you
cuz I do believe it's fate

~by Laurie Lehner

Keys

I lived my life out one summer. I was born, I lived and I died.
He said, 'I'm the drummer'. And he took me for a ride.
I said, 'Where is this going?' He said, 'I just wanna hang'
I said, 'No, I meant your music' He said, 'I just wanna bang'

You set it up for what you lack
You hit the road and it hit you back

Dead of winter the air is frozen to my face
My cold heart melted when I saw him slap his bass
The only thing I had a handle on was holdin on to something of it's own
Why am I holding court in jest, playing second best to the successor of the throne?

So I threw off my crown and ran into the night
So I begged you a little, that's okay, right?

I showed you yourself, you showed me the door
Hey, that's okay, maybe you won the battle but, Im'a win the war
Was mid-November, fall. He was handsome. He was tall.
The people travel wide and far to hear him shred on his guitar.

Piano man, Baby please, don't take me home, just give me your keys...

~by Laurie Lehner

The Waterfall

When the boundaries of my world collapsed
Space expanded, time elapsed
and the matter and anti-matter shook
Now only she and I know how
how our minds altered the radio
And only you can see the real me but you don't look

The more I give it, the less I get it
So I just live it and let it all go
Nine years to the day before
What have I done? What is it for?
I must have learned here more than I've earned here
But I don't know

And maybe I can't make a dime
Maybe I don't even like this rhyme, you know
Honest work and honest words are so hard to find
And maybe I can't fall in line
But maybe I could show you a good time
Maybe I'll show you that there's no time
Let me blow your mind

Tell me it's 'Yes. I wanna do it.'
So I'm a mess, I'm working through it
Haven't we all been less than we wanna be?
Still baby it's you, who wins the glory, and me,
who can't even tell the story,
On the sidelines with the plot lines,
Too linear. I'm free.

See, I could watch but I won't view it
when I could just seep right into it
But I just can't seem to bring myself to do it, no
And I feel the weight of this inertia,
Not just a feeling when it hurts ya
It's a stop sign that you decline, go

When I met you a new world began
and it was written by your hand
And I didn't try to understand
I just gave you everything I had
I gave you love, I gave you space
Man, I gave the land on which I stand
Now I don't know this place
I have no ground at all
I am The Waterfall you chase
and I wanna rain over your body
while I'm dripping down your face

~by Laurie Lehner

*1st recording. Rough. A few days after i wrote it

I've Got Nothing 2009

I can make you think that you're the congruent equation
I can make you wanna be the one
I can make your mark, regard the writing on the wall
I can make you feel anything at all

I feel a slight reserve tonight to go to any detail
I hold the cards close to my chest
It's more or less the words, I guess, that help it sound peculiar
So I've heard, or so I've inferred and so I've deterred

But there's something in the air out there that gives a girl the feeling
She isn't gonna live forever long
And 'what ifs' only weaken you if the 'what' is unappealing
And what it is ain't never been wrong

See I have danced in the devil's fire
And I think he wishes he were more like you
Baby I have held the hand that held the hand of doom
And I was ten steps ahead before you walked in the room

Or I'm bluffing. And I've Got Nothing.
I don't have a clue and I can't tell the truth
Think I'm bluffing? It's all or nothing so
Throw 'em down and look around for the joker's goof
See, all you needed was a little proof

That panic-stricken look of shock enjoys your face as
you think about what you have seen
I can turn your red sevens into black Jacks or Kings or Aces
And you can win this one on me

I can make our stars collide, convince the sun to suicide
if I think the moon deserves her day
Got a way to make the mighty winds engage, the seas enrage
I can make it rain

Or I'm bluffing and I've Got Nothing
You can't see it with your eyes is it's only disguise
So I'm bluffing. If you feel nothing then
I don't know what to do to get through to you

Baby, you know I'm a fool and what I'm sayin isn't new but
You know I got it. And I got it all over you.

~by Laurie Lehner