To begin, it is worth mentioning that the 2009 experience for me was not unlike getting unceremoniously dumped by a succession of brain damaged boyfriends who weren’t even cute or good in bed and I never should have liked in the first place. Which is to say: The harsh treatment that I received from the year 2009 was completely fucking uncalled for and probably, mostly my own fault.
I’ll be the first to admit that I did not adapt well to the abundant feast of bad news, failure and ego bruising that I got hit with last year but at the same time, I am not bitter. It’s more of an Irish amnesia kind of thing with me, that I forget everything but the grudge. Definitely not the same thing as bitterness. Am I right or am I right?
Besides, from my rich experience in the entertainment business, crushing disappointment and mercurial conditions are a few of the more charming attributes that keep me chained to the radiator like a neglected but eager puppy. And when I say business, btw, I mean nothing of the sort. I write songs and sing them, so c’mon, who the fuck are we kidding? What I’m trying to articulate is that although I peddle in a low art form and should have done something more substantial with my life, like scraping gum off the asphalt at Dorchester High with my teeth during summer vacation, I am sort of unemployable in any other field. And the Boston Public Schools aren’t hiring. I checked before I even mentioned it.
Here’s the thing: I know for a fact that the worthy accomplishments in life are born when life gives you lemons. Lemons that flirt with you at the bar all night then make out with a girl you don’t like and give her a ride home in a new Porsche 911 only to find out later that you got stuck with the bar tab and your car won’t start. So then you turn those lemons into vodka + sleeping pills! Stupid lemons. Wait. I forgot what I was talking about. Whatever it was, I’m sure it was pithy.
Sometime around last Spring, I ended up doing the ol’ FB re-connect with my old pal, Linus Of Hollywood. We were all, “Blah, blah, blah… Let’s get together and write hit songs for Disney starlets!”
This kind of songwriting mission rarely bears fruit because it’s a thankless, speculative and usually futile task unless you’re:
- A masochist
- Dr. Luke
Ignoring any of that, Linus and I got crackalackin’ and started writing.
As a teenage hit making juggernaut, the collaboration was sort of hopeless due to our lack of giving a shit about that kind of music extremely high standards. We kept writing anyhow. Then things got kind of awesome. So we started a band called Palmdale and now I’m happy again. LET’S TWENTY-TEN!!!!!
Coming Soon. Get Wasted, the boneriffic debut by Palmdale!