A Word About George Carlin

I just read that George Carlin passed away today.  I have to say, when I read the headline, it took my breath away.  I started shaking my head and a very real sadness came over me from loss of somebody I’ve never met but who has made me laugh so hard, so many times.

When I was a sophomore in college, my roommate and I slept on bunk beds in the corner of the room.  One night as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I put on some headphones and listened to Carlin’s Back In Town CD in my portable CD player (remember those?).  That’s the one that starts with the 8 ½ minute-long rant about abortion, and how the people who are against it are usually those “you wouldn’t wanna fuck anyway.”  When he got to the part about how a proper feminist protest should include castrating guys in parking lots with a Coke can, I burst out laughing so hard that I couldn’t stop till tears were streaming down my cheeks.  Naturally, my roommate woke up with a violent startle and asked me what the hell was so funny.  I told him don’t worry about, just go back to sleep, and I left the room to listen to the rest of it.  I spent that night and many more laughing my ass off while marveling at the man’s insight and ballsiness.

George Carlin was funny, to be sure, but more than that, he was somebody who was never afraid to say what was on his mind.  He wasn’t just a comedian; he was a great American anti-bullshit crusader.  Whether it was about politics, religion, or general human nature, Carlin’s jokes carried a powerful subtext that screamed, “Wake up and stop listening to the bullshit they’re feeding you!”  Even when his humor was at its basest, it was delivered in an intelligent manner with the intention to expose his audience to a deeper reality beneath the euphemisms.  To me, George Carlin was the best example of an entertainer who never apologized for being himself, and who never settled for less than unflinching honesty.

He was a true inspiration, and he will be missed.

George Carlin, R.I.P.

David Baron Launches Solo Career with New EP

Singer-songwriter and pianist David Baron has launched his solo music career with a new self-titled EP. The EP features 6 original tracks that display Baron’s expressive voice over a powerful piano rock sound.

In songs like the bitter rocker “Love Is Just A Lie” and the heartwrenching ballad “Shadows On The Inside”, Baron’s soaring vocals and confessional lyrics capture what it felt like at some of the most important moments in the artist’s life, from growing up as a kid in South Florida to searching for love as a post-grad on the west coast.  “They’re the most autobiographical songs I’ve ever written,” says Baron. “It made sense to simply title it David Baron, because every note and every word of these songs says ‘This is who I am.’”

Baron co-produced the EP with Grammy-award winning producer Stephen Short, who discovered Augustana and has worked with such artists as Phil Collins and Remy Zero. The tracks were recorded at Archon Studios in Los Angeles with engineer Aris Archontis.

David Baron was formerly the lead singer and songwriter of the San Francisco-based rock group The Spins, which he formed as a freshman at Stanford University. After 5 years, Baron split with the group in Fall 2007. He plans to take his new songs out on the road in an upcoming tour with his new backing band.

David Baron

1. Love Is Just A Lie
2. Standing Still
3. Shadows On The Inside (Shelly’s Song)
4. Kids
5. Nothing To Fear
6. Say You

Produced by Stephen Short and David Baron

Mixed by Aris Archontis

Words and Music by David Baron

David Baron - Vocals, Piano, Acoustic Guitar
Greg Pajer - Guitars
Steve “Shag” Aguilar - Organ
Alex Budman - Sax
Andrew James - Bass
Blake Paulson - Drums, Percussion
Jes Hudak - Background Vocals

New EP Now Available in the Store

The new David Baron EP is now available for purchase at the online store at davidbaronmusic.com!

Go to the store now for the new EP and exclusive merchandise from David’s previous band, The Spins.

Welcome to the new site!

Welcome to the official David Baron website! Click on the links below to check out exclusive content on David’s Myspace, Facebook, and iLike pages.

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 

7 Great Breakup Albums

1. Bob Dylan, Blood On The Tracks

Standout tracks: “Buckets Of Rain”, “If You See Her, Say Hello”

Of course. The record against which all other breakup albums are measured, this Everest of Emo contains all the components of a great breakup story: finding love (“Simple Twist of Fate”), hating your lover (“Idiot Wind”), losing said lover (“You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go”), musing on lost love (“If You See Her, Say Hello”), and finally coming to terms with it (“Buckets of Rain”). Great breakup albums guide us through hard times because of their power to give voice to our heartache. In this one, the best songwriter of the modern age sets the stage for all great breakup albums to follow.

2. Josh Rouse, Nashville

Standout tracks: “Street Lights”, “Carolina”

He isn’t as ubiquitous as Jason Mraz or Jack Johnson, but for sheer pop bliss I’ll take Josh Rouse, one of my all-time favorite singer-songwriters. His voice sounds like a less depressive Jeff Tweedy, and his lyrics range from the whimsical to the heartbreaking. The production is glossy but still soulful (not an easy feat), and the string arrangements and horn sections lift the melancholy to grandiosity. Its warmth just envelops you.

3. Bruce Springsteen, Tunnel of Love

Standout tracks: “Two Faces”, “Brilliant Disguise”

One of Bruce’s most underrated albums, this chronicle of his ill-fated marriage to model Julianne Phillips is also one of his most revealing and personal. After the mega hit Born In The U.S.A., the Boss turns his perceptive eye on marriage and commitment. “Nobody knows, baby, where love goes,” he sings, “But when it goes, it’s gone, gone, gone.” It’s his Nebraska for the bedroom: the death of love told stark, cold, and matter-of-fact. This is music about love for adults.

4. Weezer, Pinkerton

Standout tracks: “Across The Sea”, “The Good Life”

Rivers Cuomo can’t get no lovin’—and he’s pissed! In 35 urgent minutes, the Buddy Holly look-alike spits bile at himself, his mother, and every female who’s denied him some booty. The barely-mixed tracks perfectly capture the band’s frenetic energy and Cuomo’s temper tantrums, which feature lyrics that are frequently raw and disturbing but never dishonest. On Pinkerton, Weezer turns blue balls into art.

5. Of Montreal, Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

Standout tracks: “Gronlandic Edit”, “The Past Is A Grotesque Animal”

Love the line: “There’s the girl that made me bitter/Want to pay some other girl to just go up to her and hit her!” Don’t we all? Of Montreal is digital pop music with attention-deficit disorder, full of random musical tangents with multi-layered keyboards and a liberal use of auto-tunage. It’s also fronted by the genius Kevin Barnes, who turns his cryptic lyrics into some unbelievably catchy songs.

6. Beck, Sea Change

Standout tracks: “Guess I’m Doing Fine”, “Already Dead”

From the very first guitar strum of “The Golden Age,” Beck and producer Nigel Godrich transport us into the bleak and beautiful world of a relationship ruined. Beck the Ironic Hipster is nowhere to be found—just sincere heartache delivered in that trademark monotone of his. Word has it that he wrote all the songs in just 2 weeks after he split with his fiancé of 7 years. It’s a heartwrenching story; luckily for us, Beck finds the beauty amidst the tragedy.

7. Ryan Adams, Heartbreaker

Standout tracks: “Oh My Sweet Carolina”, “In My Time Of Need”

Ryan Adams started his solo career with this brooding, stunning breakup album that has some the best moments he’s ever put on tape. The guy’s output is ridiculous—in the year 2006 he released 3 studio albums, one of which was a double album—and while some decry this as an inability to self-edit, I just think the dude has killer work ethic. Even if his records are at times uneven, he’s one of those artists for whom I’ll buy everything he releases because his greatest songs are some of the best I’ve ever heard.

My First Kiss

It wasn’t my first peck on the lips (that was during a John Patrick Shanley scene for drama class). Nor was it the first Spin The Bottle make-out session (thank you Hebrew School!). This was the first kiss. You know the one I’m talking about—where time stands still, the earth stops spinning on its axis and the angels in your head cry out, “Hallelujah!” even though you have no idea what you’re doing and you inevitably use way too much tongue.

It was the summer before sophomore year, on a campground somewhere in Utah. She was a Jersey girl, but to protect the innocent, let’s keep names out of it.

We found each other on a charter bus in the southwest United States. It was me, her, Scott, and about 40 other teens whose parents had signed them up for this traveling summer camp called a Teen Tour. We stayed at college dorms and campsites on the way to some of the biggest tourist attractions in California, Utah, Arizona, and Nevada. Scott and I flew out to meet the group in San Francisco, the starting point of our three-week journey.

I noticed her immediately. She was fair-skinned with dark brown hair, the kind of girl whose pale cheeks turned pink when the wind blew cold. I remember she looked best right when she woke up. One morning, I watched her come out of her tent at our campsite in Lake Tahoe. She was draped in sweaters, her arms folded across her chest as she shivered from the chill. It was the first time I was overcome with this urge to want to kiss somebody…and it was immediately replaced with the horrifying realization that I’ll never have a chance with this girl.

You see, up until that point, some of the more influential gossipers in junior high had branded me as a dork. And I couldn’t really argue; the evidence against me was stacked too high. I was the piano-playing, Broadway-singing, boisterous prepubescent nerd whose round features begot an athletic disability unseen by anyone else on the basketball court. During little league scrimmages, I silently prayed to get picked on the team that wore shirts—not skins—because let’s face it: no one wants to pass the ball to the slow kid with glasses and bitch tits.

It was a predicament. I had zero confidence around girls, yet I badly wanted to profess my love to the prettiest, most popular girl on this summer excursion. Luckily, this Teen Tour provided a unique opportunity. Sure, back in junior high bullies would routinely shout “Hey pianist!” (as in, “Hey, PENIS-t!”) as I walked down the halls. But here, nobody knew who I was. I could leave my dork ways behind and become someone new, someone bold, someone cool.

It took the entire three weeks to build up the nerve to tell her how I felt. Finally, three days before the trip was over, I found myself standing next to her while waiting in line for ice cream at the Bryce Canyon Visitor’s Center. No one else was around, and I knew it was my only chance. So I took a deep breath, and with the most romantic Shakespearean prose I could muster, I tapped her on the shoulder and uttered:

“I uh…really like you.”

Three terrible, interminable seconds of silence.

Then: “Um, David, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Ok, so it didn’t go exactly as I planned. But rather than pester her (or worse, follow her into the bathroom), I kept my distance, put a smile on my face, sat a few rows back from her on the bus and pretended that I wasn’t fazed. Later that night, as we were sitting around the campfire, she leaned over and asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. We left the group and strolled over to the tents by the lake. As we walked towards the water, I could hear the distant crackle of roasting marshmallows over the constant chatter of my own teeth either from the nerves, the cold, or both.

I apologized for putting her on the spot earlier that day. She said it was okay. She said she actually kind of liked me too. I felt this surge of confidence sweep through me, so I turned to her and said, “I really want to kiss you right now.” And right there, by the lake, under the stars and the shining moonlight, I had my first kiss.

Things were never the same after that summer. I grew a couple of inches, got contacts instead of glasses, cut my hair, and stopped wearing criminally short shorts. I walked a bit taller, smiled a little broader. By the time I was a sophomore, getting the big part in the spring musical and playing the hell out of a classical tune wasn’t so uncool anymore. But most importantly, I didn’t care what anyone else thought about me. I never felt like a dork again, because I had my first kiss.