Another Janovitz Chose the Wrong Profession!!

And Scott wasn't the last of us boys to get involved in such foolishness. Truth be told, I love that we are all songwriters. It definitely was motivation for me having Bill as my older brother. Everywhere I went on tour I heard essentially the same exact questions in interviews. But it never bothered me except to say that I found it terribly disappointing that that was the only thing "writers" had on their list.

The thing that impresses me the most about Scott, and perhaps even more so Tom (aka Sodafrog~post to follow), is that he has been able to grow as a songwriter, so much so that his music is a lot different than either Billy or me. Admittedly, my songs in the Cold Water Flat days were closer in genre to Buffalo Tom than either that of Scott and The Russians or Tom~Sodafrog. Being any of us as human beings has its ups and downs, but being a Janovitz in this town as a musician...well let's just say that the names proceeding yours is always that of the rest of the boys. I've seen it a million times. There are writers who are so predictable, that you could call them "Old Faithful." Some are such fans of one that they seem to resent the rest. It's a weird thing.

But each time I go see or listen to any one of them, I become so proud. For whatever reason, my siblings are all very talented individuals...and I use that word in its literal sense. And, if that weren't enough, they are also very giving folks. And the latter far outweighs the former.

And these pictures tell that story of a giving person...to me, at least. What I mean by that, and I addressed it in the post about my brother Bill, is that, if you are the real deal, you will be giving a great deal of yourself on a nightly basis. And that is so exhausting in my experience. Frankly, at the time, it was not something I could sustain as a touring musician. If folks who make a living exposing their soul each time they perform don't take a lot of time off and pursue some sort of other outlet in a different direction, they will die young. And there is plenty of evidence to support my argument.

I realize one could easily say that this post is ridiculous. That I feel the way I do because of my relationship to Scott. And I realize that pictures are just that. They are still shots and don't tell the whole story. But they capture moments. And that's how I try to live. Moment by moment. And when I look at Scott here, I see two things right away. I see a great performer and someone who isn't just singing about liking big buts (though I think Scott has always been a fan of the big butt...you should have seen the girl who asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance). There is way more substance.

I have no doubt that I find these types of connections with my brothers because they are just that. But it's these same connections that were and are made for me with the music I choose to listen to like a lot of us. It's just a lot easier when you don't think your siblings suck. And I don't think Scott sucks. On the contrary, it is quite good in my humble opinion. And the Russians need your help so that their record sees the light of day. And the deadline is soon. Support local music. It's right under your nose.

(someday I will learn how to use html and post the link right here to get to the Kickstarter website to donate some money towards the Russians LP. In the meantime it is right over there on the right) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Alone Pt. 3

She looks lost and innocent enough to believe whoever takes her hand to lead her to her family. She has an old soul. Every time I look at her, I feel helpless. Let me project some more of my own personal baggage. It seems as though she is looking for her mom at some event. And when I look at her eyes, I feel like Cameron Frye when he looked at that painting and gets drawn in by the little girls face. Not that I am comparing my work to a master and leading pioneer of impressionism like Seurat. But the part of this series that is such a great exercise for me is that it teaches me to see further than taking pictures has already done.

But again I return to the infinite aloneness we are all in the midst of. Right now, we are on a planet that is in a constant state of evolution. And a lot of people are not aware of the fact that we are still coming out of an ice age. It's that. That aloneness. In some ways, we are totally insignificant in our existence. Regardless or your religious or personal beliefs, what could we possibly matter in the grand scheme of things? To think otherwise is, to me, so sickeningly pompous. But here we are together.

I believe we all have three parts to us. The flesh...the anatomy of the animals that we are. Then we are also comprised of the mind. But the two are also, more often than not, inextricable. The third is that part of us that we are able to separate entirely. To observe ourselves. And that is where this whole thing rests. In that part of "us" that stands there and realizes that what we just said or did, for instance, is utterly ridiculous. We do it all the time. We talk to others close to us and therapists about it in hopes that we are not as ostensibly insane as we think we are. Or, more frighteningly, how insane we know ourselves to be. We are. We are all insane. And the sooner we all admit it, the better off we will be.

If we were able to share with someone our experiences...the way we experience life, we wouldn't need all these self help books (And in the interest of candor, I am writing one myself). It would be like "The Green Mile" where Paul Edgecomb takes John Coffey's hand. John says "...I got's to show you a little bit of what it's like for me each day..." If we could simply take one another's hand and just send it along through that channel so that someone else can actually "Walk a Mile" in your shoes we would stop judging others almost entirely. We would be better people. But we can't. So we write songs, paint or create in some way an expression of ourselves. To show the insides of you to another. And when we get close to conveying that to another person and that is reciprocated we call it love.

Giant Kings!!

Jesus, man!! If any of these faces are familiar, you too have paid far too little to be able to say that.

The story behind The Giant Kings isn't entirely clear to me at all. But that allows me to indulge my already ahead of itself brain and just see what happens. As I stated in my profile, which seems more of a disclaimer then anything else, some of this will be true or at least be based in truth.

I know Duke's real first name. And I'm sure there are many of us that do. However, you are on your own with getting it out of him. But that has nothing to do with the story.

It seems as though, in no explicable manner mind you, that Chris Cote discovered his voice later in life then I can understand. How do you not know you can do that until now? Or at least somewhat recently. But I'm certain there isn't a song he can't sing in whatever key you fucking feel like throwing at him. He'd probably have no idea if on one night the song was in A and the next night the same song was in E Minor. He just finds it in there and out it comes. And he's easily one of the funniest guys I know. Something else he might find lucrative. If only...

So one day, Duke (whom we will herein refer to as "Duke") hears Chris and that's where it all began, at least in a more immediate sense. The thing is, if you were to be able to go into "Duke's" "Library of Music" inside his head, and how it all comes together when he plays, you will find endless names and genres and styles and countries you never heard of.

So how do you realize a dream?? Well, it certainly helps to know the likes of any number of folks in this town with talent in spades. And the cast of characters in The Giant Kings is just one collection of them. And there are so many more. You can find more here on my pages as well as just going out and looking for it. That's right...look for it! Its there, man.

The Giant Kings cover a lot of terrain. I'm still hoping, begging, pleading and, at this point kind of demanding, Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come." Between me and the hundred or so others in attendance, there are hundreds of songs we'd kill to hear. One of the fan favorites is definitely Dr. John's "Such a Night." The restraint that Kevin and "Duke" display during their respective solos is the most enjoyable excruciating experience I've ever had. I once told them both that "being at a Giant Kings show I felt like I was having sex with all of you." Oddly enough, they both took that as huge compliment.

So go see The Giant Kings twice this month and have easily the best sex of your life in front of everyone.

What was to be?

Well...this went from being a Buffalo Tom post to more of a Bill Janovitz, Ordained Minister of Rock AND Roll "blog-up."

Admittedly, he's my only big brother. He was the guy who brought The White Album into a house where you really only heard three things regularly. One was The King. Both folks could agree on that one (they did at least for the sake of appearances). For dear old dad, it was (and I think, still is) Johnny Mathis (I still put Johnny's Christmas record in my top three along side Vince Giraldi/Charlie Brown and Doris Day). For mom, it was The Carpenters.

So a great deal of the impressions made on me and, sometimes (like in the case of Nina Hagen) forced on me, were made by Bill. We did (and bought, I might add) the whole thing with "Abbey Road/Paul without shoes/Dead/his apparition picked up hitch hiking in the English country side" thing ...hook, line and sinker. We would sit in his room and spin Revolution 9 backwards to hear Ringo say "I killed Paul" with "Paul" being all drawn out and slow like. Those were the days.

But as a photographer, and being only as objective as any brother can be, Bill is the obvious subject. He is the heart and soul of that band like it or not.

The most profound thing about these shots to me is the way he still hurls himself around the stage with an almost unconscionable abandon. Now that he has gracefully looked "the hill" square at the top and said "Fuck You!" it is starting to become too unsettling to watch anymore. So I guess this is also kind of a Swan Song for me.

By the way, I used up two 8 GB cards at this show last June. That's a lot of fucking pictures, in the dummied down way!! There is so much more to chose from. Obviously both Tom and Chris are absent. But don't worry...I'll get to them in a Buffalo Tom post soon.

It truly is something to look your dream right in the face and really question it for the first time. I can only imagine what that must have been like for my brother (or any one of us) to become the "Part Time Man of Rock" (which is bullshit, by the way. He seems more busy these days and maybe even happier playing the way he is now). But he remains the same. In these pictures I see the same dude who, when he got his first Yamaha acoustic (which he still has. I wrote a few songs on that little guitar that made me the wealthy author who writes this for you now), lit up brighter then anything on the tree. That was it. He was through. From that moment on, he had to do one thing. And, in a way, it is a very singular thing. Everything else becomes second or third fiddle...if that.

Then a a great, tremendous, beautiful, caring, loving, adoring, patient (blah, blah, blah) wife. Then later on a daughter. ***NOTE: those of you who know me are aware of my affinity for my niece. Some of you don't yet, but you will soon enough. But for the sake of leaving the "dead horse" alone right now, I'm only going to say this once. She is easily the greatest human being who's ever graced this planet or, perhaps, universe. She also kind of saved my life. I long to see her if for only one reason. She restores my faith in the ability of another human being to love unconditionally.*** Buf Tom/Bill fans have heard a thing or two, both musically and otherwise, about this special person. And then Will...wow. For me it is in some ways like looking at myself. But he is no doubt his father's son. And is tremendous as well, as if the others were not enough. I love going there to visit. You walk into a home filled with love. My niece and nephew make a "b" line for my legs and hug away. Sometimes to the point of happily losing the circulation momentarily. "Life Vicariously" is what I call it.

But I can't sit through even a single song if I don't feel like the person delivering the message is not the real deal. That it's not real. It's not honest. Or...if it is honest, it totally sucks anyway. But for all of his faults, and we ALL have a great many of them, he is all consumed with it. Bill and I survived the experience of being in the same bands for a while. But even then, after rehearsals (and certainly shows) he was spent. He gives you everything he's got and a lot of folks don't appreciate the toll that takes on your soul after 30 years. And Bob Dylan said (and I'm paraphrasing) "...never to give people 100 % because they will always want more."

About three years ago, Buf Tom were playing this very same club. The Figgs, with one of my younger brothers Scott as a new member on keys, were opening the night. Scott and his band The Great Bandini were in the finals that night right down the street so he had to run after the set which was surprisingly short for a Figgs show. Scott's group lost the WBCN (RIP) Rumble (really???) that night and that's a story for another time. There were a lot of friends there that night. BT opened with Treehouse and it was as if they just came from the studio in LA with The Water Sisters in tow. Big Red Letter Day came out in 1993 folks. You do the "Age Math." I was blown away. I couldn't believe that they could still summon that spirit so many years later. Fucking, Bravo!! How to make me proud and maybe greener, Billy Boy.

So, to perhaps sum up and put into more perspective, I will leave you with this. On the night I just mentioned, Billy saw two old timers getting into it right there in front of him. He said (and I'm paraphrasing again) "Hey man...there's nothing I find more depressing then two middle age guys fighting at a rock club..."