Choo Choo: A Moue Review

Another review by yours truly. This time for a Swiss, 60's pop-rock band called Choo Choo. Worth a listen or two, even though the music isn't necessarily my favorite. 

At Least the Skiers are Happy

Up until December 25th, everyone in Wisconsin wishes for a White Christmas. However, once the gifts are unwrapped and the get-togethers are done, most say, "enough already with the white stuff." But the snow continues to fall well into March, sometimes even April.

This past Tuesday forecasted heavy snowfall overnight which would result in school closings Wednesday morning. But children woke up disappointed to find a light dusting that just made things look pretty again. Then early this morning the snow piled up slowly but surely, and has continued all day.

As many despondently trudge down their driveway's, shovels and snow blowers in hand, for about the hundredth time this winter, other folks are loving this day more than any other of the year.

North America's largest cross-country ski race, The American Birkebeiner, is being held today in Hayward, Wisconsin. Now in it's 36th year, this race tests a skier in just about every way possible, physically and mentally. Since I haven't put on cross-country skies since I was five, I don't have personal experience on the trails. But this lady does.

I had the pleasure of being one of the thousands of spectators watching skiers brave this incredible journey last year. At the time, I was in a journalism class and for a final project my group decided to cover the Birkie (as it is affectionately called by it's participants). The class had a twist though. It was a topic specific writing course, on food of all things. So we covered the Birkie from the perspective of what fuels these skiers on the trails.

Once I have a full winter in Wisconsin to train, I intend on tackling this 52 kilometer trail. Last year as I was filming this little documentary, I was having a blast. The overall good feelings everyone has and the help-eachother-out nature of the Birkie is contagious. Which is why every winter skiers from across the world experience a Birkie Fever relapse.

An Update

Check out my Best Job in the World Application! Time is running out!

Sick and Unproductive

A sinus infection has rendered me weak and unproductive for the past five days. I've had to rest my voice all day just to make it through my shows. Even then my throat felt raw and abused by the end of the night. So I really haven't been up to much lately.

This mix-tape I did for Moue Magazine made me feel like I've actually accomplished something. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go Netti Pot myself.

Dear Mr. Lincoln...

Seeing as how it's your 200th birthday, I'm asking you for a favor. It seems this must be a good year for you. I figure you don't have much else to use your birthday wish on since Obama's in office and all, so would you mind throwing your birthday wish my way?

You see, I'm applying for this job. Not just any job The Best Job in the World. It's in Queensland, Australia, specifically Hamilton Island in the Great Barrier Reef. Basically, I'd chill on this island, do touristy fun stuff, and blog about it. 

As you can see Mr. Former President (is that what I call you?), I've come to enjoy blogging quite a bit. By browsing through this site, you can see that I have the necessary skills to do this job and do it well. I can write decently, podcast, take some ok photos, and make embarrassing videos of myself. I know a lot of this stuff didn't exist during your presidency, but just as Barack. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to show you how all this works. After all, he has nothing better to do....

I've been dreaming of swimming in this coral reef system ever since the first time I put snorkeling goggles on. Now, I have the opportunity to live there, blog about it, and make a nice salary for my efforts. 

The people at Tourism Queensland need to realize how much of an asset I would be if they hired me. I hope they can see this via my video application, but they may need some more convincing. Can you use your birthday wish to help them, and me, out? Maybe even write them a letter. Doesn't have to be quite as lengthy as the Emancipation Proclamation, but perhaps a recommendation letter from beyond the grave? That'll sell it I think. 

Anywho, I hope you have a happy birthday. Oh, and thanks for the incredible job you did leading this country during some difficult times. You laid the ground work for this amazing man we have as president today. Thanks.

And I have to ask, is there a letter somewhere in the White House that you wrote addressed to the first black president? Because you had to know this day would come. I bet there is one. Barack has probably already found it. I understand. It's secret between you and him.

Again, Happy Birthday, and thanks in advance for your help.

Can't Complain about Being American, 

Shawn Connelly

P.S. I didn't realize you and Darwin shared the exact same birthday! Tell him I say hello.

Kadman

Before I left for London, I did a small music compilation article for Moue Magazine. I'm looking to do quite a bit more writing with them, starting with this review of Kadman's debut album Sing to Me Slower. It seems they liked the review, so perhaps you will too. 

I'd post the review here, but I want Moue to get the traffic. So check it!

Chapter 6

On Monday night, I went to the windy University of Wisconsin - Green Bay campus to watch a fantastic a cappella group live in action. I had seen Chapter 6 a number of years ago when they sang at UW - Stevens Point. They were just as amazing the second time around.

With crowd pleasing favorites like their "Wizard of Oz" medley/storytelling, "Change the World," and "Eleanor Rigby," it's easy to see why this group has been going strong for twelve years. Arranger and live sound producer Mark Grizzard joins the guys on stage for an autobiographical piece he wrote called "7th wheel." It's a hilarious musical look into the guy behind the guys on stage. My personal favorite is "Pinball Number Count" which any die-hard Sesame Street fan, such as myself, would recognize in a heartbeat.  

On their latest album, With the Windows Down, the group nails a fantastic version of Coldplay's "Clocks," as well as croons their way through another Grizzard original, "There I Go."

As charismatic as they are vocally talented, these guys are worthy of your time if they come your way performing, and worth your money. So visit their site, buy a CD, and support musicians through this economic hardship.

Tracks on Tracks

Yesterday, I started seriously training for the Green Bay Marathon. I'm relatively unemployed, have some time on my hands, I've wanted to run a marathon since starting college, and if I don't do it now, who knows if I ever will.

I've been running regularly since I first got to London, after all, Regent's Park was in my backyard. But yesterday, I penciled in my training schedule and planned out some distanced routes via mapmyrun.com.

This site is fantastic. If you are a runner, or even if you are not and just want to see how long of a walk it really is to the grocery store, this is your most helpful tool. It opened my eyes to some routes I would have otherwise never found, and even experiences I never would have had...like today's.

I mapped out a route that went down a desolate county highway that eventually met up with railroad tracks that I'd follow back home. I can see why hobos love traveling by train. The tracks are peaceful and quiet, carved right through serene wilderness. I came across deer tracks that went right along the rails and undisturbed mounds of snow. It was all so beautiful. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the tracks to ensure I had good footing. Then as I was looking down at the ground ahead of me, I saw splotches of blood.

I glanced to my left, and there, with his head buried in the snow, was a fox. Perhaps a wolf. I couldn't really tell because of his decapitated-looking state. Stopping my run, I got down on my haunches and just stared at this poor creature. Initially, I tried to piece together his death, CSI style: a few spots of blood on the tracks, a head nuzzled into the snow, perhaps even missing. I couldn't be 100% but I'm sure human intervention had something to do with his death. Upseting is hardly the word. Poor thing.

The head buried in the snow confused me the most. Almost like he knew his time was coming and didn't want any fellow creatures to see the deathly look in his face. It was such a solemn moment, out there on the tracks with only a fox's soul to keep me company. I just stared at him for the longest time. Thinking about...I don't even know what.

I finished my run. Began to stretch and thought it'd be worth it going back to that deceased animal with my camera. A little morose, I know, but (and this is going to sound even more morose) this scene had a certain solemn beauty in itself.

I took my photos. Then heard the familiar sound of a train whistle in the distance. I ducked off the rails, got my fox in the foreground, and watched a train go by closer than I have ever seen one before. I tried to include some pictures with the following video, but the video resolution made them look awful. The music I think fits the moment. Written and recorded by good friend Jim Priniski.

Blogging: Scrap-booking on Roids

Yes, I scrapbook. I am a heterosexual male, and I scrapbook. At least I used to / hopefully will be in the near future. In my closet I currently have three grocery bags, each containing a scrapbook which is either empty or near empty and all the "scraps" that I intend on adhering to the pages. Allow me to digress and reminisce for just a few paragraphs before I get to the point.

One bag consists of all the pictures, brochures, ticket stubs, and other junk that I didn't throw away from the summer of 2005, when I worked as an entertainer at Idlewild Theme Park in Ligonier, Pennsylvania. I played three guitar sets, two small group shows, and three nightly main stage shows a day. Plus every so often I had to do "live action" theatre with kids in the "Wild West" section of the park. We made the wee ones into deputy sherifs and had them help wrangle up some bank robbers. There were about twelve of us entertainers. We all lived in a ski chateau on the highest peak in the state. We were all in our early 20's and enjoyed a good time, so a good time we had.

Another bag contains all the accouterment for completing a scrapbook from the next summer which I spent in Maui, Hawaii. I worked as the arts & crafts director at a Boy Scout Camp in the West Maui Mountains. This little gig snuck up on me unexpectedly. The job was mentioned to me in passing by a scouter in the Wisconsin area. A completed application and a few emails later, I was on my way to Maui. Granted the job didn't pay the best, but after a couple months on Maui, I had completely broke even, including the flight. Not bad. The best part of the summer, though, was hanging out with my old friend and first ever boss, Scott, as he is now living on Maui with his wife and daughter. The beauty and attitude of this island is intoxicating. As is the feeling I get when I tell people, "yea, I lived in Maui...."

The third bag is even heavier than the first two, but it's content spans twice as much time. During college, when I moved into my first house at the beginning of my junior year, I began a scrapbook to document all the good times and a few of the bad. It's a great representation of the hard work I did at UWSP as well as a look into the intense amount of fun my roommates and I had at 1525 Briggs. This scrapbook is more complete because I tried the "create-it-as-it's-happening" approach. This method worked wonderfully until, just like my blogging at times, I got way behind. I have catching up to do.

Now, even though I have a little extra time on my hands, I do not feel compelled to complete these books of memories. The reason why is this little site of mine.

I took out the "college years" scrap book last week and attempted to put a dent into it. Nothing happened. I am now much more interested in this digital version of my life/memories. Paper, scissors, and glue no longer tickle my fancy like they used to. But it's easy to see why.

Lately, I've been reading a lot of blogs, friends' and some randoms as well. It seems to me that a blog has so much more to offer than a big book of scraps. Not only can you post your thoughts and words, but pictures, video, and audio as well. I'd like to see a book that holds all that (besides a MacBook....ha, get it?) A blog is also viewable by whoever you want to see it. Which for me is all the more motivation to do it. Sure, you can share a scrapbook with guests when they come over. But more often than not, I think that a guest feels obligated to look through my memories and he/she doesn't necessarily enjoy it. With a blog, on the other hand, whoever can read it whenever he/she wants, and if no one reads it, really that's fine too. But in the meantime, I'll just keep writing as if someone out there actually is reading.

So there, I love blogging. Is that the thesis statement I was aiming for with this post.... I'm really not sure. That's the other thing about blogging, well for me at least, it's total stream of conscience. For that, I apologize, but that probably won't change.

Though, I will add that I'm not completely giving up on the art of scrap-booking. I'll find the motivation to do those three books sooner than later. I think it's important that everyone keep in mind the physical world that we all once functioned in, whether it's completing a scrap-book or sitting down and actually writing a letter. It weirds me out sometimes this think of all the time and effort I've put into this digital life of mine, and to consider that with one server crash, it could all be gone. However a wise man once said:

What takes a lifetime to build can be destroyed in a night, build anyway.

This Christian Bale Thing

It's been all over the internet and the celebrity talk shows. Christian Bale's tirade towards his director of photography Shane Hurlbut. I don't much enjoy celebrity gossip but I do want to comment on this little rant filled with more cussing than a hockey locker room. 

Bale, an iconic actor who makes more money with one movie than the average American makes in a life time, can't simply act through a lighting designer walking around a little bit behind the camera. Keep in mind that Hurlbut was only doing his job, which is to make Bale look good. 

It sickens me to think that there are divas in the world like Bale. Hard to please actors are always spoofed about, but until this audio leak, I never thought it was all that bad. Thanks Christian for proving me wrong. 

So, I had no reservations playing with this audio clip and combining it with an earlier work of Bale's. Who knew that this innocent little Newsie would grow up to be such a "prick," which is one of Bale's choice words throughout his rant. 

WARNING: Explicit Content (which is all Bale's fault, not mine)

This mix, however, puts my little creation to shame. If you like clubbing music and lots of swearing, download it. 

WARNING: More Explicit Content (again, Bale's fault)

Briggs Street

Situations like this were not uncommon at 1525 Briggs Street....and I miss it.

Four Stars for Country

Here's a review of my latest performance with Daddy D productions, written by Warren Gerds, critic for the Green Bay Press Gazette:

Darren Johnson and a countrified Daddy D Productions lineup has a particularly entertaining show going in "Classic Country."

A lively audience that cheered practically every song and skit on opening night Friday added oomph.

The show opens in high gear with "Rocky Top" and continues with zip from there.

For a sample of the variety, here's a winning sequence:

• After a comic bit as NASCAR types, Shawn Connelly as bit dim racecar driver and Doug Dachelet as a pit commentator romp through "Beer Run."
  
• Johnson strolls out as a scruffy guy pushing a broom to drawl-sing the spoof, "King of the Road."
  
• Anna Snyder and Dachelet bicker a bit as a live-in couple to set up "You're the Reason Our Kids Are Ugly."
  
• Changing pace, Shelly Emmer pours on glamour in a lovely gown as she croons "You've Been Talking in Your Sleep."
  
• Johnson returns as buck-toothed Skip Church, the Sunday morning drive time DJ on WMOO Radio, No. 1 in Krakow. Out from the astounding character fly hilarious jokes, stories and rooster squawks.
  

In the band are Ryan Thompson, who is nimble on guitar and mandolin and in song; Ryan Sette, bass; Jeff Hinnendael, drums; and Jeni Funk, keyboards.

The ensemble scores with good stuff in country songs of 30 or more years ago — corn, love, dance zest, melancholy, comedy, faith, harmony, warmth, fun, heartbreak and more.

Big pluses are Johnson and Thompson for their versatility and Connelly for his flair for building a story into a song, such as "Kaw-liga."

And yes, in that picture I am wearing a snowmobile suit...

Shut Up, the Commercials are on

Every Superbowl party has its share of spectators that care more for the unique million-dollar adverts than the game itself. In all honesty, I was one of them. That is until the fourth quarter. Tough break Cardinals. 

But this year I feel advertisers did more than just razzle dazzel us and try to make us laugh. I think they tried to educate us as well....

Pedigree’s adoption drive taught us that dogs truly do make the best pets:

Budwiser has had some of the best ad campaigns in recent history, from frogs to the articulate Wazzup, but now they show us that dogs can train horses.  

 Who isn’t going to buy a bag of Doritos and try this:

Cars.com showed us all how even the most confident amongst us, like David Abernathy, have issues with purchasing a car:

 

E*trade displayed that this economy is effecting everyone, especially babies:

 

Sobe taught us that changing your image so you fit-in with every other sports drink is ok, it’s called peer pressure:

 

Bridgestone taught us that it’s easy to get your tires jacked, even on the moon.

Coincidences

Throughout college, I never did much pleasure reading. If I had the extra time to read, I felt extremely obligated to review for that biology exam, re-read the chapter on chord voicings, or review that German lieder for tomorrow's performance just once more before I went to sleep. Reading for my own enjoyment just didn't happen for close to four years of my life. Sad.

Within the past year and some change, however, I always seem to find myself immersed in a book that more than coincidentally coincides ridiculously well with wherever I am in my life. It all started with an anonymous stranger handing me Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.

On October 12 of 2007, I spoke as the student body representative at the naming ceremony of our newly renovated University Center. The student body chose to name it after former Wisconsin Governor and former UWSP chancellor, Lee Sherman Dreyfus. He was known as the students' chancellor, a man who could always be found walking around campus with his bright red vest, willing and ready to talk with students about issues important to them. He was truly on their level. When he first came to the University in the late 70's, his inaugural address to the student body started: "Hello, my name is Lee Sherman Dreyfus. Yes, my initials are LSD, and I'd like you all to come on a trip with me."

Due to his rapidly failing health, he wasn't able to attend the ceremony. But it was imperative that we held the ceremony while he was still alive. My speech addressed Gov. Dreyfus and what he had done for the University and the state, as well as addressed the student involvement in the planning of this multi-million dollar project.

At the reception following the ceremony, an older gentlemen walked up to me. He said, "I worked closely with Gov. Dreyfus during his time here. He would have been extremely proud and touched to had heard your speech today. I want to give you this..." That's when he handed me a copy of The Alchemist. "I can tell from that speech that you'll be going places. That's what this book is about." He signed the inside: "Shawn, listen to your heart, MC Graw, Colorado.

I placed the book on my shelf with all the other I'll-get-around-to-them-someday books. There it sat until December when I started packing for my trip to Thailand. A group of 13 UWSP students were about to embark on a month journey to work with at risk Thai children. I was on my way out of my room when I looked at my bookshelf and hastily grabbed the book. "Meh, I need something to read during this 22 hour flight." Having no idea what this book was even about it turned out to be the best read for a globe trotting adventure.

It's about a shepherd boy named Santiago and his journey. Throughout the read, I couldn't help but compare myself to the boy, as I too was making an incredible journey at the time. Besides the cliche "the journey is the reward message," the book is full of lessons that I will carry with me forever:

"I don't live in either my past of future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. Life will be a grand party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now"

"The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. No heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams"

"You don't have to understand the desert: all you have to do is contemplate a simple grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation."

"Time is another of these things we need to help ourselves to go through life, but it does not exist"

The most relevant part of this book for me and my journey was it's talk of a universal language. A way the world communicates with one another, not via tongues and sounds but via a fabric we are all woven into. Working with the children at DEPDC, I truly heard this language, as none of us students spoke Thai, yet we came to develop some of the tightest bonds with the Thai children over the short time we were there.

My other book coincidences aren't quite as deep, yet still just as relevant to my life.

I came home from Thailand and literally the next day was thrown into the classroom. Culture shock. I just returned from a month in a country that no where near resembles the states, teaching at a school where the children would otherwise be in forced labor or sex slavery. What is the point of sitting in this classroom when there are real problems in the world which my time and effort could be going towards? I couldn't stand the thought of pointless classrooms, until I found myself studying close to the exact same thing in two completely different classes.

Geography and journalism. I used to think they had nothing in common, besides the fact that one can write about the other. My journalism class was topic specific focusing on food and travel writing. Here's where the liberal thinking of UWSP got the best of me. My geography class basically revolved around how the spread of humanity has desecrated our planet. One such issue is the over-production of, well, everything to sustain, well, everyone. Food production ties in of coarse. From over-fishing to over-farming and depleting nutrients in the soil, humans are using more than mother earth can give us. While I was learning the technical side of this from my geo class, my journalism teacher had us reading Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma and The United States of Arugula by David Kamp, both of which addressed food production on a more personal level.

Now, I've always been a closeted anti-establishment kind of guy. But these two classes simultaneously bombarded me with a "here's how shitty the human race is" kind of mentality (in geo we screened some incredible documentaries, including Who Killed the Electric Car, it'll make you hate corporate America, if you don't already). So if you want a discussion sometime on capitalism, our environment, and the food we eat, I'll be happy to share some heated opinions.

On a more positive side though, my journalism class also got me to read Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl. As a New York Times food critic, her incredible writing has me thinking about food more than I ever thought I would. Plus, her writing really inspired me to write more. Now, I have this blog that I feel obligated to write on all the time......

Kidding, this is kinda fun.....

Following that spring semester, I immersed myself in The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. As if Ruth hadn't inspired me enough to write, Randy was the writer who started it all. While this book of little short lessons should not have taken me all summer to read, I wasn't in a hurry to get through it. I tried to take each little lesson to heart.

Getting around Europe, I let Rick Steves enlighten me to the places I was visiting. Better than a text book, but not quite a leisure read, but rather informative in a fun way. This book wasn't so much a coincidence as it was an "ok, I want to know about the places and things I'm going to see." However, my next read was coincidental all over again.

I kept seeing subway posters for The Whole Truth by David Baldacci, and being stranded at Luton airport for six hours finally brought me to buy this international thriller about a second cold war. This read was extremely fun because the action takes place all over Europe, particularly in the places I had just been on my continental tour. It was the first time I could say "sweet, I've been there." Since being back home, I turn on the telly or read an article and say "sweet, I've been there" quite often.

The tube and bus rides get long without something to read, and sometimes you just can't stand those evening newspapers. So as soon as my flatmate was done with The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini I snatched it up. Again, having no idea what it was about, I dove in. The book takes an in depth look into the life of modern Afghanistan while following a boy from childhood to his adulthood exile into America. This book opened my eyes to the lives of the people around me while I worked in the London neighborhood of Harlesden, where I was one of the only white people. The food, lifestyles, and all around culture described by Hosseini mirrored what was going on all around me.

After The Kite Runner, I stuck to my iPod and evening newspapers to entertain my commutes.

Finally, to what I'm reading now: Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. This saucy little tale is about Greek gods living mortal lives in modern day London. Yet again, another pleasant surprise. As I was reading last night at a little coffee shop in Green Bay, there was a scene that took place "somewhere between Euston and Kings Cross." For a visual, I pulled the Tube map out of my jacket pocket, as it has been there since my return home. Just like in The Whole Truth, I can read along and say, "sweet, I've been there." 

I try to look for these little coincidence in life, however lately, I haven't had to look hard. They are in black and off-white on the pages of the books that I happen to come by. The word coincidence, though, has such a benign connotation. I feel they are little messages, reminders, or signs from the universe around us...from God, if you will. As I learned from The Alchemist, there is a fabric that binds us all, the world and the universe it exists in. If we can learn to listen to this web of our lives, I think we'd be all the better for it.

And speaking of coincidences, I was thinking a lot today about what I am doing, where I'm going in the next few months. Then in the middle of writing this I received a message from a friend wondering if I wanted to work with him in Alaska.... I'm listening and the message is coming in loud and clear.

Back in the Saddle Again

This past Thursday I went back to my roots and did what I did best, rocked. 

It's been quite some time since I've gotten in front of an audience with a guitar, drums, my bass, and some raw voices. I had the opportunity to sit in with Magna Cum Loud for a gig in Winona, Minnesota. Their bassist couldn't make it. So I soaked up his glory, along with cheap drinks and a free hotel room.

Cum Loud is an adrenaline filled rush of rock straight to your temporal lobe. Being on stage with them for that hour and a half was certainly an experience for all eight people that were listening....

Despite the attendance, the gig revitalized my rock senses that I've missed so much over the years. Since Thursday, I've been playing too much guitar and looking for more opportunities to get on a stage with it.

One of which will be this Tuesday at Ned Kelly's in Green Bay. I'll be sitting in with an open jam, so if you are in the area, swing on by. If you're not around, this is just the beginning. I must satisfy this craving.