We still have no idea what the musical costume is going to be this year, but I am beyond hyped to head down to Atlantic City on Sunday for Phish's highly anticipated Halloween show. Between this concert and the ING NYC Marathon that follows exactly one week later, I am hopped up on anticipation and getting less and less sleep every night. Be sure to hit up Run Schiff, Run! in the coming days for all things Marathon, and in the meantime check out this short MTV feature from 1996 detailing Phish's Halloween performance of the Talking Heads' Remain In Light. Because Music Television used to cover, you know, music. We miss you, Kurt Loder! [Saw it here]
So, what's it gonna be Sunday night?
Showing posts with label phish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label phish. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
WTF It's April? [Schiff Happens Quarterly Review]
College basketball is over,* baseball has (finally!) begun - it's April. In what feels like a flash, we're already a quarter of the way into 2010. It's time for a look back - and a look ahead. In the spirit of my recent return to the workforce (more on that momentarily), it's time for an official Schiff Happens First Quarter Review.
Entering Q1, Schiff Happens was at a crossroads, still reeling from the epic suckfest of a year so brutal it can't even be spoken of by name. Yet out of the shitheap came a glimmer of hope, dreams of promise for a great year in 2010. There were big challenges and high expectations ahead.**
We started off Q1 by bidding a bittersweet farewell to the Greatest Reality TV Show in the History of Ever. I was high from all the hairspray fumes I inhaled getting ready for the finale party, so it took me a few extra days to let it go. Not to worry, though, fist-pumpers. Looking ahead, we should be lucky enough to have Sitch, Snooks, Pauly D and the whole gang back in our lives - hopefully late Q2, almost certainly early Q3. As if it were possible, the show will become even less Jersey, as season 2 will take place in Miami.
Another Q1 highlight: The Schiff Happens name made the jump across the pond. I was interviewed by a BBC documentary crew and poised to appear alongside such Internet royalty as Al Gore, Tim Berners-Lee and Bill Gates. However, the BBC web player only allowed you to access the show from inside the UK. Oh, sweet irony! I wondered, "If you get interviewed by a prestigious international television network for being the guy who defriended his facebook friends for a free Whopper, and nobody in America can watch it, did it really happen?" It's the age-old philosophical conundrum. However, I am delighted to report that as we enter Q2, the show has at least made its way to YouTube. Enjoy the video below and have at it in the comments.
My primary Q1 objective was always to get a job, but due to financial constraints, that missive quickly morphed into "Generate income by any means necessary." I found myself taking a part-time gig shilling sneakers in one of New York's oldest sporting goods stores, which, as part-time gigs go, really wasn't bad. Frankly, it forced me to drag my ass out of bed in the morning, shed the Snuggie of unemployment, and begin to rejoin the rest of society. In the end, I'm grateful that the opportunity came along. As always seems to be the case, my job search was a case of feast or famine, and after months of turning up nothing, contacts were being established and networks were expanding almost immediately upon starting my new role. Within a few weeks I was interviewing and, I am excited to say, accepted a brand new full-time job. I try not to to mix business with the proceedings around here, but I will say that I am working at one of the top young internet companies around right now, I'm surrounded by bright, focused people in a laid back atmosphere that encourages creativity, and am extremely well-nourished thanks to the greatest office kitchen I have ever been around.
In addition to getting me re-focused and refreshed, working in the sporting goods store also led to something of a running renaissance for me. Spending so much time around running shoes, runners and the sport of running in general inspired me to sign up for a half marathon and train seriously for the first time since my high school glory days. All of a sudden, I'm on a team for charity and committed to run the ING New York City Marathon in November. More on all this to follow in the weeks and months ahead (and trust me, there will much more because you're all going to be donating), but for now I hope you'll direct your attention to Schiff Happens' most recent side venture: Run, Schiff, Run! Follow my awesome Tumblr for every mile - if you ever run with me or come watch me cross a finish line, I'll be sure you get a cameo. Running: an unexpected Q1 development that created new goals to carry us through Q2, 3, and 4. Who knew?
In the final post of Q1, I promised a future post on Festival Season, but looking ahead to Q2 and beyond, it's simply an impossibility that Schiff Happens will be able to attend one of the most perfectly constructed festivals in recent memory (of this generation?) or make a repeat appearance at the big 'Roo, which gets ever-more enticing each time you put it away and come back to it. So what does that leave us, musically, going forward? For starters, a lot of vicarious living. I've been loving The Kickdrums' Indio Sessions mixtapes for the last couple of weeks (Day 1, Day 2) and am excited for the release of Day 3 to complete the set. We're also left with prayers for miracles. There's a less than minuscule, impossible chance that I may be in New Orleans with the new job for the last 3 days of April, positioning me perfectly for Weekend 2 of Jazz Fest. Send the good vibes my way, people!
Mostly, though, we're now charged with creating an old-fashioned summer tour out of the local shows at our disposal, unaided by a huge festival to help catch all the big names of the now. That means Lupe Fiasco (with opening act b.O.b., which, truth be told, I may be more excited for) this Saturday night at Irving Plaza. That means I'm still intrigued by the possibility of checking out newly reformed Sublime With Rome at Roseland Ballroom in May. I know it's not the same without Brad, but Sublime remains one of my favorite bands of all time and I'm willing to see what Eric and Bud have to offer with a new frontman. That means the big musical story of the summer will be Phish. Again. A year after I said 5 shows in one summer was too many, I'll be heading out to 4 in 3 cities from late-Q2 to mid-Q3 Amazing how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
The end of Q1 has brought back the gorgeous weather and Sundays in Central Park that we longed for throughout the snowy, frigid winter. We've got more than a few excellent positives to build on as we forge deeper into 2010, a year that began with such high hopes.*** The seeds have been planted and we're on the verge of greatness, now we just have to see it through. Of course, we can still improve - not a single Springsteen mention in an entire quarterly report?! - but so far, 2010, you're so money and you don't even know it.****
*Sitting down to author this post as the starting lineups are being introduced. I don't see it shaking out this way, but I really hope Butler takes down the Dookies. Wouldn't be the first time Schiff Happens looked on and blogged in amazement while an unlikely upstart took down Coach K's cake eaters.
**I'm still dreaming of a world where Butler beats Duke in the NCAA Championship. Still don't think it will happen, but the Bulldogs are putting up a fight (down 2 with the ball 8:21 to go in the 1st half)
***High hopes including watching Duke lose in the NCAA Tournament Championship Game... to Butler. Bulldogs have the ball with 13 seconds left, trailing by just 1. If this happens, anything truly is possible for us good guys in 2010. Could it be???
****Gordon Hayward just missed a potential game-winner for Butler that was nearly identical to Sean Singletary's game-winner vs. Duke in the game referenced above. Freakin' Duke. At least Singler got trucked on the final play. This game is over, and this post needs to be too. G'night, Canada!
Entering Q1, Schiff Happens was at a crossroads, still reeling from the epic suckfest of a year so brutal it can't even be spoken of by name. Yet out of the shitheap came a glimmer of hope, dreams of promise for a great year in 2010. There were big challenges and high expectations ahead.**
We started off Q1 by bidding a bittersweet farewell to the Greatest Reality TV Show in the History of Ever. I was high from all the hairspray fumes I inhaled getting ready for the finale party, so it took me a few extra days to let it go. Not to worry, though, fist-pumpers. Looking ahead, we should be lucky enough to have Sitch, Snooks, Pauly D and the whole gang back in our lives - hopefully late Q2, almost certainly early Q3. As if it were possible, the show will become even less Jersey, as season 2 will take place in Miami.
Another Q1 highlight: The Schiff Happens name made the jump across the pond. I was interviewed by a BBC documentary crew and poised to appear alongside such Internet royalty as Al Gore, Tim Berners-Lee and Bill Gates. However, the BBC web player only allowed you to access the show from inside the UK. Oh, sweet irony! I wondered, "If you get interviewed by a prestigious international television network for being the guy who defriended his facebook friends for a free Whopper, and nobody in America can watch it, did it really happen?" It's the age-old philosophical conundrum. However, I am delighted to report that as we enter Q2, the show has at least made its way to YouTube. Enjoy the video below and have at it in the comments.
My primary Q1 objective was always to get a job, but due to financial constraints, that missive quickly morphed into "Generate income by any means necessary." I found myself taking a part-time gig shilling sneakers in one of New York's oldest sporting goods stores, which, as part-time gigs go, really wasn't bad. Frankly, it forced me to drag my ass out of bed in the morning, shed the Snuggie of unemployment, and begin to rejoin the rest of society. In the end, I'm grateful that the opportunity came along. As always seems to be the case, my job search was a case of feast or famine, and after months of turning up nothing, contacts were being established and networks were expanding almost immediately upon starting my new role. Within a few weeks I was interviewing and, I am excited to say, accepted a brand new full-time job. I try not to to mix business with the proceedings around here, but I will say that I am working at one of the top young internet companies around right now, I'm surrounded by bright, focused people in a laid back atmosphere that encourages creativity, and am extremely well-nourished thanks to the greatest office kitchen I have ever been around.
In addition to getting me re-focused and refreshed, working in the sporting goods store also led to something of a running renaissance for me. Spending so much time around running shoes, runners and the sport of running in general inspired me to sign up for a half marathon and train seriously for the first time since my high school glory days. All of a sudden, I'm on a team for charity and committed to run the ING New York City Marathon in November. More on all this to follow in the weeks and months ahead (and trust me, there will much more because you're all going to be donating), but for now I hope you'll direct your attention to Schiff Happens' most recent side venture: Run, Schiff, Run! Follow my awesome Tumblr for every mile - if you ever run with me or come watch me cross a finish line, I'll be sure you get a cameo. Running: an unexpected Q1 development that created new goals to carry us through Q2, 3, and 4. Who knew?
In the final post of Q1, I promised a future post on Festival Season, but looking ahead to Q2 and beyond, it's simply an impossibility that Schiff Happens will be able to attend one of the most perfectly constructed festivals in recent memory (of this generation?) or make a repeat appearance at the big 'Roo, which gets ever-more enticing each time you put it away and come back to it. So what does that leave us, musically, going forward? For starters, a lot of vicarious living. I've been loving The Kickdrums' Indio Sessions mixtapes for the last couple of weeks (Day 1, Day 2) and am excited for the release of Day 3 to complete the set. We're also left with prayers for miracles. There's a less than minuscule, impossible chance that I may be in New Orleans with the new job for the last 3 days of April, positioning me perfectly for Weekend 2 of Jazz Fest. Send the good vibes my way, people!
Mostly, though, we're now charged with creating an old-fashioned summer tour out of the local shows at our disposal, unaided by a huge festival to help catch all the big names of the now. That means Lupe Fiasco (with opening act b.O.b., which, truth be told, I may be more excited for) this Saturday night at Irving Plaza. That means I'm still intrigued by the possibility of checking out newly reformed Sublime With Rome at Roseland Ballroom in May. I know it's not the same without Brad, but Sublime remains one of my favorite bands of all time and I'm willing to see what Eric and Bud have to offer with a new frontman. That means the big musical story of the summer will be Phish. Again. A year after I said 5 shows in one summer was too many, I'll be heading out to 4 in 3 cities from late-Q2 to mid-Q3 Amazing how the more things change, the more they stay the same.The end of Q1 has brought back the gorgeous weather and Sundays in Central Park that we longed for throughout the snowy, frigid winter. We've got more than a few excellent positives to build on as we forge deeper into 2010, a year that began with such high hopes.*** The seeds have been planted and we're on the verge of greatness, now we just have to see it through. Of course, we can still improve - not a single Springsteen mention in an entire quarterly report?! - but so far, 2010, you're so money and you don't even know it.****
*Sitting down to author this post as the starting lineups are being introduced. I don't see it shaking out this way, but I really hope Butler takes down the Dookies. Wouldn't be the first time Schiff Happens looked on and blogged in amazement while an unlikely upstart took down Coach K's cake eaters.
**I'm still dreaming of a world where Butler beats Duke in the NCAA Championship. Still don't think it will happen, but the Bulldogs are putting up a fight (down 2 with the ball 8:21 to go in the 1st half)
***High hopes including watching Duke lose in the NCAA Tournament Championship Game... to Butler. Bulldogs have the ball with 13 seconds left, trailing by just 1. If this happens, anything truly is possible for us good guys in 2010. Could it be???
****Gordon Hayward just missed a potential game-winner for Butler that was nearly identical to Sean Singletary's game-winner vs. Duke in the game referenced above. Freakin' Duke. At least Singler got trucked on the final play. This game is over, and this post needs to be too. G'night, Canada!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wherein I See Phish and the World Series for $5 Total [Rest Of 2009]
We're coming down to the wire and there's no time to lose, so here's the rest of The Best Rest Of 2009.
A few months after the most glorious concert experiences of my life, a friend of mine was offering around extra tickets for the last leg of Springsteen's tour, which included a mini-residency at Giants Stadium. These concerts would be the last for Bruce in the venue that vaulted him into worldwide arena rock superstardom, as the new Giants Stadium (and I'll be calling it that regardless of whatever corporate name gets stickered all over it, so deal with it, Jets fans) is set to open in 2010. Clearly I had to be there and jumped at the chance. I was met with an interesting choice: General Admission floor seats for the second-to-last night, or 100-level seats for E Street's last ever Giants Stadium show? For some, it seems like a no-brainer. Go for the tour and stadium closer, where the band is bound to pull out all the stops and, given the historical significance of the venue, there may even be a special guest or two. However, recall my Bonnaroo epiphany and you'll see why I made the choice that I did. It simply had to be the floor. After being so close to The Boss that I could see the sweat flying off of his pumping Jersey fists, there was just no way I was opting for the seats, even if it meant gambling that the second-to-last E Street show at Giants Stadium would measure up to the finale. Observe below to see why I clearly made the right choice.
My favorite part about this is that more than once in the video you can clearly hear me muttering, "Where's The Boss man? Where is he?" only to have him emerge into view mere feet from our position. My second favorite part is the fact that we somehow managed to not notice the mini stage in the center of the floor just to our right until Bruce was standing on it. We were just in the right spot at the right time, and you're just going to have to believe me that it worked out that way. Oh, and 60-year-old Bruce crowd-surfing a solid 40 yards. I guess that's my third favorite part. It's the story of 2009 in a nutshell, really. All-time highlight memories sporadically cropping up amongst an otherwise murky sea of confusion and doubt.
This now puts us right smack in the thick of October, my favorite month of the year. If ever there was a saving grace for 2009, it was October. Not only did it include the aforementioned Bruce experience, but the YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES! If you know me or have read this here blog at all, you'll know how much the 2009 MLB Playoffs lifted up my Worst Year Ever. Some of you reading right now may have been there for this guy's birthday celebration, watching me jump for joy during Game 2 of the ALDS as A-Rod tied it with a HR in the bottom of the 9th and Teixeira walked it off with a wall-scraper in the 11th.
In the next round, I was able to score tickets for the Littlest Bro (who is ironically the biggest of we 3 Schiff Brothers) and I to see the Yanks take care of the Angels and capture their 40th pennant in Game 6 of the ALCS. Of course, our first attempt to see the game was rained out, but, as we saw time and time again in '09, out of the FAILstorm emerges a WIN. Because of the rainout, Littlest Bro was forced to head home, so myself and Middle Bro went to drop him off with our Aunt and Uncle who were heading back to Jersey after seeing John Stamos star in Bye Bye, Birdie on Broadway. That's right, folks, Uncle Jesse himself. Here at Schiff Happens, we have sung Stamos' praises before, but never did we expect to actually meet the proprietor of the Smash Club.* However, the stars aligned that night, leading to one of the greatest pictures ever taken of the Schiff Brothers.
Yes, I'm well aware that only half of my face is visible. I stand by my statement. Note to all of you out there who will now attempt to stake out the Stamos: Try to avoid saying "Uncle Jesse on 3!" just before you snap the picture. Ask Littlest Bro about it.
As October turned into November, the Yankees ended nine long years of frustration with World Series win number 27 and another parade down Broadway. Yes, I'm well aware that complaining of the Yankees "struggles" is ridiculous. I apologize for nothing. I also should probably mention that I was in the house to watch the Bombers take down the Philthadelph in Game 2 of the World Series alongside Middle Bro, which was especially satisfying since we got to chant "Who's your daddy?" at Pedro Martinez all night. Probably should also mention that it was free. Hey, I said the highs were all-timers.
The final positive of 2009 was Phish's fall tour. For the first time ever I decided to try and check out an entire multi-night run, procuring tickets for Wednesday and Friday nights at Madison Square Garden, and Saturday night at my alma mater, The University of Virginia's John Paul Jones Arena. Of course, Thursday - the one night of the four I went into without a ticket - was the night of note. I joined my friends at the bar near MSG for their pregame, and just as I was about to go do a lap around the arena to scour for an extra, the guy next to me at the bar leaned over and said, "You need a ticket? Here you go." He pulled out a mail order ticket, I managed to mutter something along the lines of, "Are you serious?" and he said, "Sure, why not? I was gonna eat it anyway. Buy me a beer and it's yours." So, for the price of the beer I was able to ensure that I saw "Fluffhead" for the first time live. I'd call that a victory. Of course, that was also the night I learned that Jonathan Larsen, creator of RENT, died of an aortic aneurism, and didn't even have a little bit of AIDS. I'd call that a loss. A major loss. I have never felt so bamboozled in my life, and to be honest, I'm still getting over it a little bit. The story will have to wait for another time, because I'm getting emotional just thinking about it, and because quite frankly, it's 8:30 on New Year's Eve and we've all got some drinking to do.
So before you head out to whatever loft party, watering hole, or slump buster you're hitting up tonight, take a minute to view perhaps my favorite video of 2009. I call it, "How Not To Shoot a Concert Bootleg," and when you consider that this hilarious piece of pure, unadulterated FAIL was shot just moments after the incredible joy and good fortune captured in the "Hungry Heart" video above, it's the perfect sendoff for 2009, the Worst Year Ever. May 2010 be the most epic of WIN for all of us.
Happy New Year.
*Wow, definitely didn't remember that the original Stamos post was Yankees-related. Weird. Awesome.
A few months after the most glorious concert experiences of my life, a friend of mine was offering around extra tickets for the last leg of Springsteen's tour, which included a mini-residency at Giants Stadium. These concerts would be the last for Bruce in the venue that vaulted him into worldwide arena rock superstardom, as the new Giants Stadium (and I'll be calling it that regardless of whatever corporate name gets stickered all over it, so deal with it, Jets fans) is set to open in 2010. Clearly I had to be there and jumped at the chance. I was met with an interesting choice: General Admission floor seats for the second-to-last night, or 100-level seats for E Street's last ever Giants Stadium show? For some, it seems like a no-brainer. Go for the tour and stadium closer, where the band is bound to pull out all the stops and, given the historical significance of the venue, there may even be a special guest or two. However, recall my Bonnaroo epiphany and you'll see why I made the choice that I did. It simply had to be the floor. After being so close to The Boss that I could see the sweat flying off of his pumping Jersey fists, there was just no way I was opting for the seats, even if it meant gambling that the second-to-last E Street show at Giants Stadium would measure up to the finale. Observe below to see why I clearly made the right choice.
My favorite part about this is that more than once in the video you can clearly hear me muttering, "Where's The Boss man? Where is he?" only to have him emerge into view mere feet from our position. My second favorite part is the fact that we somehow managed to not notice the mini stage in the center of the floor just to our right until Bruce was standing on it. We were just in the right spot at the right time, and you're just going to have to believe me that it worked out that way. Oh, and 60-year-old Bruce crowd-surfing a solid 40 yards. I guess that's my third favorite part. It's the story of 2009 in a nutshell, really. All-time highlight memories sporadically cropping up amongst an otherwise murky sea of confusion and doubt.
This now puts us right smack in the thick of October, my favorite month of the year. If ever there was a saving grace for 2009, it was October. Not only did it include the aforementioned Bruce experience, but the YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES! If you know me or have read this here blog at all, you'll know how much the 2009 MLB Playoffs lifted up my Worst Year Ever. Some of you reading right now may have been there for this guy's birthday celebration, watching me jump for joy during Game 2 of the ALDS as A-Rod tied it with a HR in the bottom of the 9th and Teixeira walked it off with a wall-scraper in the 11th.
In the next round, I was able to score tickets for the Littlest Bro (who is ironically the biggest of we 3 Schiff Brothers) and I to see the Yanks take care of the Angels and capture their 40th pennant in Game 6 of the ALCS. Of course, our first attempt to see the game was rained out, but, as we saw time and time again in '09, out of the FAILstorm emerges a WIN. Because of the rainout, Littlest Bro was forced to head home, so myself and Middle Bro went to drop him off with our Aunt and Uncle who were heading back to Jersey after seeing John Stamos star in Bye Bye, Birdie on Broadway. That's right, folks, Uncle Jesse himself. Here at Schiff Happens, we have sung Stamos' praises before, but never did we expect to actually meet the proprietor of the Smash Club.* However, the stars aligned that night, leading to one of the greatest pictures ever taken of the Schiff Brothers.
Yes, I'm well aware that only half of my face is visible. I stand by my statement. Note to all of you out there who will now attempt to stake out the Stamos: Try to avoid saying "Uncle Jesse on 3!" just before you snap the picture. Ask Littlest Bro about it.
As October turned into November, the Yankees ended nine long years of frustration with World Series win number 27 and another parade down Broadway. Yes, I'm well aware that complaining of the Yankees "struggles" is ridiculous. I apologize for nothing. I also should probably mention that I was in the house to watch the Bombers take down the Philthadelph in Game 2 of the World Series alongside Middle Bro, which was especially satisfying since we got to chant "Who's your daddy?" at Pedro Martinez all night. Probably should also mention that it was free. Hey, I said the highs were all-timers.
The final positive of 2009 was Phish's fall tour. For the first time ever I decided to try and check out an entire multi-night run, procuring tickets for Wednesday and Friday nights at Madison Square Garden, and Saturday night at my alma mater, The University of Virginia's John Paul Jones Arena. Of course, Thursday - the one night of the four I went into without a ticket - was the night of note. I joined my friends at the bar near MSG for their pregame, and just as I was about to go do a lap around the arena to scour for an extra, the guy next to me at the bar leaned over and said, "You need a ticket? Here you go." He pulled out a mail order ticket, I managed to mutter something along the lines of, "Are you serious?" and he said, "Sure, why not? I was gonna eat it anyway. Buy me a beer and it's yours." So, for the price of the beer I was able to ensure that I saw "Fluffhead" for the first time live. I'd call that a victory. Of course, that was also the night I learned that Jonathan Larsen, creator of RENT, died of an aortic aneurism, and didn't even have a little bit of AIDS. I'd call that a loss. A major loss. I have never felt so bamboozled in my life, and to be honest, I'm still getting over it a little bit. The story will have to wait for another time, because I'm getting emotional just thinking about it, and because quite frankly, it's 8:30 on New Year's Eve and we've all got some drinking to do.
So before you head out to whatever loft party, watering hole, or slump buster you're hitting up tonight, take a minute to view perhaps my favorite video of 2009. I call it, "How Not To Shoot a Concert Bootleg," and when you consider that this hilarious piece of pure, unadulterated FAIL was shot just moments after the incredible joy and good fortune captured in the "Hungry Heart" video above, it's the perfect sendoff for 2009, the Worst Year Ever. May 2010 be the most epic of WIN for all of us.
Happy New Year.
*Wow, definitely didn't remember that the original Stamos post was Yankees-related. Weird. Awesome.
Welcome to 2009, Now Get The F Out! [Rest Of 2009]
Alright, so the Springsteen Bonnaroo story was a little long-winded, but deservedly so I think. If you haven't already, check the Picasa stream for all the highlights of Bonnaroo '09. The general gist of the festival is there, but with so little left of this year, we've got precious little time to waste as we continue to remember the So, right after we made it back from Bonnaroo, I moved downtown and was fired from a shitty job that I hated anyway for showing up late to do something I wasn't hired to do in the first place. So it goes. It was a pretty miserable experience to have to deal with, but I figured it was life's way of telling me, "You'll thank me later."
A few weeks later, the night before I was supposed to fly down to Florida to watch one of my fraternity brothers walk the
Allow me to pause here, if I may, during the Cape May portion of this recap, to acknowledge that while 2009 may have been the WYE, it brought us perhaps the greatest television show of the Aughts. Of course I speak of the now-legendary Jersey Shore. I'm not going to dwell on this too much, especially since Cajun Boy has done such an admirable job of keeping us up to speed on all the fist-pumping madness over at Animal NY, but isn't it fitting that 2009, which was beyond awful, gave us a show so far beyond awful that it's truly amazing? I groaned in disgust when I first learned the premise of Jersey Shore, but I'm already hoping for a second season*** and tonight's new episode is pretty much the only part of New Year's Eve that I'm looking forward to (Aside from, of course, saying "Good thefuck riddance!" to 2009. You really can't understate just how craptastic this year was).
Actually, this seems like a good time for yet another short commercial break, but chill out, Freckles McGee - The Rest Of 2009 continues momentarily. In the meantime, amuse yourself with one of the most talked about viral videos of the year below. Snooki Punch '09, never forget.
Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy
*Another 2009 phenomenon, by the way: My friends getting married. No, I have no idea what they're thinking either. I mean, uh, Mazel Tov, guys! Many happy returns! Hope getting married questionably young during the Worst Year Ever works out for you!
**Totally worth it.
***MTV, if you're out there, I have a few friends from back in the old neighborhood that you have to meet, ASAP!
The Worst Year Ever is Finally Over [It's safe to come out!]
Well hey there, stinky britches! Didn't see you hangin around. I thought everyone had left. I certainly got the hell out of there. I guess after the Thriller was gone I just couldn't see a reason anymore.Look, I have no idea why I abruptly vanished from these airwaves way back in June. This year just sort of shook out that way. Sure, the good moments included some all-time memories, and I intend to give thanks for that. However, for me, navigating through 2009 mostly felt like spelunking through a long, dark cavern of suck. I know I'm young in the big scheme of things, but this was by far the worst year I have ever experienced. And so, with that in mind, Schiff Happens presents to you not the Best Of, but simply "The Rest Of 2009." Here's hoping that we remember the few good times and otherwise ready ourselves to say good riddance to bad rubbish in the final moments of this decade. I can't promise that 2010 will be better, but can it really get any worse?
I guess I should probably begin where I so rudely left off by finishing the story of Bonnaroo. The short version is that we saw a bunch more music, attended the lamest Lebowski-Fest of all time, and witnessed the coming-true of my live music wet dream - Bruce and Phish, together on stage - from the front freaking row. Now you might be thinking to yourself, "Schiff, what in your wide fist-pumping world could possibly top rocking out to a Trey vs. Bruce 'Glory Days' guitar battle from mere feet away?" And you'd be right to ponder that question - until you heard the tale of Schiff's Epic Bonnaroo '09 Springsteen Miracle.
This isn't even the greatest story to come out of Bonnaroo '09. I know, seriously.Saturday night's E Street set was obviously the most anticipated moment for our Bonnaroo group, and we decided we were going to rock out from the pit, or not rock at all. This proved to be excessively easy, as all we had to do was stand in a line beside the main stage while watching Wilco's set. Tough life, I know. Soon enough after Wilco finished up, the line was moving and we were there. And I mean there. Front row. Center. FIST. I had come prepared with my new video camera, knowing that I wouldn't want to miss a moment. The show came and went and E Street of course brought the power, as they do night after night after night after night. You all have seen the setlist by now so you know all the highlights (If you haven't, Backstreets has your back. Light scrolling required). Growin' Up. Thunder Road. Hell, Santa Claus even came to town. But what made this show a life-changer for me and our crew was our spot. When Bruce came down into the crowd during the "Badlands" opener, we were feet away. When Bruce brought a delirious hippie chick out of the crowd to Courtney Cox with him during "Dancing in the Dark," we could hear her squealing with joy. And when The Boss motioned for all of E Street to join him in the crowd for the final flourish of "American Land," we were feet away from the most hard-rockin accordion you ever saw. After that, I knew I'd only be able to see a Springsteen show from the floor for the rest of my life. How could I return to the seats after that experience? The best part? I captured all the highlights in 720p thanks to my trusty camcorder.
Needless to say, after the show we were wiped, so we took a seat toward the back of the main stage field to reflect and munch on some snacks. With the big stage closing for the night, a nearby festival vendor started shouting, "Free food!" Clearly we jumped at the opportunity, powered through a plate of some sort of festival grub or another, and headed back towards Centeroo to get started on Saturday's late night sessions. Approaching the fountain, I paused for one of my famous paranoid patdowns, checking each of my pockets for vitals. Wallet. Check. Phone. Check. Car key. Check. Video camera... Video camera?! In my haste to get up and chow down on free food, I had forgotten to grab the camera, which I had taken out of my back pocket and placed on the ground beside me so as not to crush it when I sat down. I grabbed my brother and cousin and we raced back toward the main stage.
Predictably, the entire area was closed off, with security guards flanking the entrances. I pleaded my case with a few of them to no avail. "Please!" I begged. "I know exactly where we were sitting!" Refusing to resign myself to the lost and found, I raised my voice one last time and demanded to speak to someone in charge. An older gentleman approached, looked me in the eye and asked if I could really take him to the exact spot where we were. "If I don't," I replied, "then you can give me a hard time. How about that?" He agreed and we were off again, trying to put as much distance between him and us so as to maximize our search time. I mean, I had an idea of where we had been, but it was dark and that field is huge. Soon we reached what I thought was the spot and frantically started looking around. I noticed an enormous truck circling the premises and feared that I'd find my camera in the shape of a pancake. My brother and cousin weren't seeing it. The truck passed by. Still nothing. My body froze over in a cold sweat. Then I heard someone calling out to me. It was the security geezer. He had caught up to us. My heart sank, fearing our last gasp was over. I honestly don't even remember what he said to me. All I remember is looking up, and seeing him toss something towards me. A black pouch. My camera case. Inside...the camera, fully intact! In that moment, my friends, I became the Luckiest Guy at Bonnaroo '09.
The true miracle here isn't just that we found the camera. It's that if we had not, the world would have been deprived of this. And this. And of course this. And you wouldn't all get to relive with me the greatest moment of my concert-going life. Observe below and enjoy while I steel myself for the rest of what I have to believe is the first-ever "Rest Of" countdown. Clearly I thought that the highs of '09 were few and far between enough to include in a single post, but we're going to have to make this a multi-parter. I promise I won't abandon you like last time. Believe in the Promised Land that is 2010.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Bonnaroo Tales, Vol. II: Can I Live While I'm Young?
Friday morning was cloudy, which is part of the reason I was able to sleep so well. But the other major factor was our campsite itself. It was the festival setup I've always wanted. Along the way from Jersey to 'Roo via JMaddy, we picked up my college freshman cousin and 5 of his hometown buddies. They rolled down Highway 81 from Boston in a rented minivan, and from the start clearly had no idea waht they were walking into. To the yoots' credit, they did a great job festivaling once we were down there. They all seemed to have a great time, and despite being grossly unprepared -- "Whoa, you guys brought a cooler?" -- really contributed to the campsite, namely with caffeine and liquor. Friday morning I was able to chug a mugful of Starbucks right to my brain thanks to a 150 year old device that I had never seen or heard of before. According to Wikipedia, "French pressed coffee is usually stronger and thicker and has more sediment than drip-brewed coffee." Oddly, I found myself saying the same thing about the fresh pressed product I left in the toi-toi a few minutes later.
We spent the better part of Friday morning foraging around our neighborhood for various necessities and sundry items. We found a perfect flagpole and doubled the height of our crucial campsite landmark, the sweet California bruin flag. We wandered across the campgrounds and slugged through a bunch of mud to hang out for a bit with Adam's friend from college and my homegirl Hippie Katie, then wandered back and had a delicious lunch of turkey sandwiches and ham grilled cheeses, all courtesy of the legendary Meatbag Magician. Fat and satisfied, we ventured to Centeroo and caught the end of Santigold's set.
Santi kept the crowd bouncing, but capturing the attention of myself and many of those around me were a pair of sign language interpreters perched on an edge of the soundboard area. I always find this hilarious. They were mouthing every lyric, dancing to the beat, half signing, half raving with all kinds of sassy, hearing impaired gusto. I'm not saying deaf people shouldn't go to festivals, but no matter how well somebody lip-syncs and keeps a beat... I mean... they still can't really hear the concert, right? Someone might want to send me to sensitivity training for this, but I just don't get it. It was funny. Forget it, moving on.
Adam, Mike and I agreed that Al Green was not to be missed, and we were all too happy to watch one of the true legends smiling from ear to ear as he glided and pranced around the main stage, sweating through a red-vested three-piece suit as the evening sun continued to beat down. Green may not heed the farmers' almanac, but he still has the moves. He also still has his way with the ladies (although you could say he had a rough go of it with his women at first), tossing roses into the crowd and stopping more that once to lament that he couldn't jump into the audience and spread a little bit more love. "These people came out here to love me, not to hurt nobody," he declared. And damn if I didn't want a piece of the Reverend right then and there.* The most important thing that he still had -- that voice. He can still hit those sweet soulful notes, and god bless him for it, I hope he can forever.
*Guessing this is the closest I'll ever feel to being Catholic.
As soon as Al Green waved us goodbye, we realized that we had made our way up to a great spot right up against the rail dividing the pit from the rest of the crowd, and decided to stay put and stake our claim to that land in the name of Schiff during Beastie Boys, before Phish's late night set. If I could take a mulligan on one Roo decision, I would take it right here. Beasties vs Byrne was easily the most awful scheduling conflict of the weekend going in, and I agonized over it until the moment of truth came. I made the mistake of valuing our spot on the rail over seeing the music that I knew would maximize my experience. Next time I get the chance to see the man who wears the Big Suit, I'm going to make sure to take it. It's not that I didn't enjoy the Beasties' set, but I knew exactly what was coming, having seen them once before. Always opt to see a new show for the first time, especially if it's an artist you love. I consider myself a live music veteran, but this decision was total amateur hour. I knew I flubbed it the entire time, too. I just didn't pull the trigger on it because I was so into having that spot for Phish, who were involved in the second worst Bonnaroo scheduling conflict -- against Public Enemy. It would have been cool to see P.E. perform "It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back," and everyone knows how much love I have for ya boy, but I was left uninspired to make that move after seeing the Worst Fake Flav of All Time. I must have screamed "Flava Flaaavvv!" at this assclown a dozen times, and not once did he respond. If you're out there, bullshit Fake Flav, you suck. You mean to tell me you're willing to parade yourself around dressed like an asshole, but not act the part? For chrissakes, you're sitting on your fat, useless ass reading the fucking paper! Everyone knows Flava Flav can't read! Disgraceful.
Point is, you can't go back, only forward, and inevitably we made it (finally) to the first main event of the weeknd: Phish on the main stage, Friday night at 11. It was a high-energy performance right from the gate, featuring another Chalkdust Torture opener like we had seen in Camden (Best show of the early summer tour leg? Methinks yes.), and the strong set of Divided Sky, Possum and Down With Disease hyping the action in the pit and around us to its first real fever pitch of the weekend. But after 8+ hours on my feet and the never enjoyable Wading In the Velvet Sea beginning to take form, I told Adam I had to get out of there. I recharged with a festival gyro and bottle of water, and after an entire night of overvaluing our precious rail spot, packed in amongst a few particularly insufferable Phish heads, I fittingly caught the hard-charging highlight of the festival to that point from a wide open patch of grass toward the back of the field. After Wading in the Velvet Shwag mercifully wrapped, the boys rolled through Harry Hood - always a personal favorite, though this version wasn't quite the pure joy of the previous Tuesday's Jones Beach edition - then covered Highway to Hell for the first time in over 12 years, jammed into 2001, and segued from YEM > Wilson > YEM in what felt like a moment of accidental perfection to close their set at 2:15am. An appropriate cover of the Beatles' A Day in the Life shut down the main stage for Friday night (at this point Saturday morning), and we ventured over to Girl Talk to close out the late late session.
Greg Gillis provided us with a predictably fun dance party, but I think at that point, for us it was just a little bit of noise that we didn't have to think too much about. Something to keep us bobbing and energized long enough to make it back to camp and crash. Before we did, we needed one last quick conversation about our strategy for Saturday -- the big day. Bruce Day. We decided we'd drive it to Firenze (we named our camp after our second landmark flag, a purple banner bearing red fleur de lys, purchased in Florence) for a cookout dinner pregame around 5, then hit up our same spot 3 hours or so before The Boss. That same, overrated spot. We didn't know that our well-intentioned plan wouldn't come to fruition, or that this would turn out to be the best thing that could have possibly happened to us. Content with our agenda, still spinning and exhausted from our long day of music, and with the sun rising on our first nearly 36 hours of Bonnaroo, it was time to make that move.
Pillow.
Face.
Friday, June 19, 2009
The Bonnaroo Tales, Vol. I: Runnin' On Empty
Yea it's taken me a while to talk some Bonnaroo. It's taken me a while to talk some anything. Well...tough. Sorry, that's all I have to say about it. Oh, that, and you're gonna wait a little longer as I recap the festival day by day. You like it.
It's often said that life isn't a sprint--it's a marathon. For this guy, the past 3 weeks or so have been some sort of delirious mash-up of the entire race. There's been a lot of talk among my circle recently of racing and running and living lots of life in a short while, and I feel like that's what I've been doing since I last posted, lo those many moons ago.
Bonnaroo is a literal and figurative time warp. As you make your way to the festival – at least if you’re truly road trippin' it – the miles and hours pile up and the journey feels interminable. Though we arrived in Manchester around 7:30 Thursday evening and made it inside after only a short wait (leaving us exactly enough daylight to set up camp and avoid a torrential downpour -- 'Roo Success #1!), some unfortunate souls are made to wait upwards of 5 hours to physically enter the festival grounds from the highway. The whole experience can feel like a never-ending odyssey. But once you reach your destination, the opposite effect occurs. Time seems to simply melt from one music-filled moment to the next. By the time the festival hits full stride, you’re not quite sure where one day starts and the next ends, and the places you’ve come from and intend to be going to at festival’s end feel like 
distant planets from a bygone time. On top of this dreamlike state of consciousness brought on by the long journey, oppressive Tennessee heat, sprawling music schedule stretching from noon until 4am daily, and never-ending stream of wild and crazy people, the state of Tennessee spans two time zones. Apparently there’s a sign that indicates when you’ve crossed over into Central Time, but no one in our car got that memo, which made for a confusing start to the trip when we had to figure out what time to go see Passion Pit on Thursday night. So it goes. If the whole festival experience has a time warp element to it, this confusion was probably the most appropriate way to start. Passion Pit were jumping at This Tent, we danced around, unnecessarily circumnavigated the entire campground in pouring rain on the way back to our spot, dried off and went to bed. It was the best night's sleep I'd had in nearly a month.
It's often said that life isn't a sprint--it's a marathon. For this guy, the past 3 weeks or so have been some sort of delirious mash-up of the entire race. There's been a lot of talk among my circle recently of racing and running and living lots of life in a short while, and I feel like that's what I've been doing since I last posted, lo those many moons ago.
In the last two weeks I saw Phish in New York and New Jersey, drove to freaking Canada and back (a return trip that took 12 hours door-to-door and a Baseball Roadshow that deserves its own post entirely), and ran my Yankee Stadium record to 4-0 on the year so far -- all while looking for a 3 bedroom apartment in Manhattan. All this immediately followed a week that had completely rocked my world. I found myself reuniting with slews of old friends, and even a couple of exes. I have crammed what feels like a lifetime's worth of chaos, stress, action, confusion -- and yes, fun -- into a relatively short amount of time. There are many tales yet to be written, but the big one - or at least the story that best encompasses all of what I've been feeling these last few weeks - is Bonnaroo.
Bonnaroo is a literal and figurative time warp. As you make your way to the festival – at least if you’re truly road trippin' it – the miles and hours pile up and the journey feels interminable. Though we arrived in Manchester around 7:30 Thursday evening and made it inside after only a short wait (leaving us exactly enough daylight to set up camp and avoid a torrential downpour -- 'Roo Success #1!), some unfortunate souls are made to wait upwards of 5 hours to physically enter the festival grounds from the highway. The whole experience can feel like a never-ending odyssey. But once you reach your destination, the opposite effect occurs. Time seems to simply melt from one music-filled moment to the next. By the time the festival hits full stride, you’re not quite sure where one day starts and the next ends, and the places you’ve come from and intend to be going to at festival’s end feel like 
distant planets from a bygone time. On top of this dreamlike state of consciousness brought on by the long journey, oppressive Tennessee heat, sprawling music schedule stretching from noon until 4am daily, and never-ending stream of wild and crazy people, the state of Tennessee spans two time zones. Apparently there’s a sign that indicates when you’ve crossed over into Central Time, but no one in our car got that memo, which made for a confusing start to the trip when we had to figure out what time to go see Passion Pit on Thursday night. So it goes. If the whole festival experience has a time warp element to it, this confusion was probably the most appropriate way to start. Passion Pit were jumping at This Tent, we danced around, unnecessarily circumnavigated the entire campground in pouring rain on the way back to our spot, dried off and went to bed. It was the best night's sleep I'd had in nearly a month.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Strikes and Gutters, Ups and Downs
It's been a long, draining week -- the kind that leaves you shaking your head, speechless, numb. When faced with a similar situation toward the end of The Big Lebowski (perhaps my favorite movie of all time, and one that has been there for me time after time), the flawed, if not passionate, Walter Sobchak is left with just one timeless thought:
"Aww, fuck it Dude. Let's go bowling."
I always thought that meant that when times get shitty, you turn to the things that have always been there to comfort you, even if they seem excessively ordinary and couldn't possibly offer more than a momentary escape. Maybe deep symbolism was never intended. Either way, I'm goin bowlin tonight.
Appropriately enough, as I ready myself for my first ever NYC bowling experience, I find an abundance of Dudeness on the interwebs. First:
"The New York Yankees have announced the addition of strictly kosher food offerings and Shabbat accommodations at their November 2009 and January 2010 Fantasy Camps. Glatt kosher food will be provided by Weberman Foods with OK supervision, and a Friday “Dream Game” will be played so Shomer Shabbat Jews can participate."
Walter would certainly be there, except he has to take Cynthia's Pomeranian bowling while she and Marty Ackerman are in Hawaii.Walter Sobchak Approves [Fack Youk]
And secondly, Bonnaroo thought they didn't completely make my summer enough when they brought Phish, Bruce and the Beastie Boys (arguably the 3 cornerstones of my proverbial musical pyramid) together under one festival, so they decided to throw in their very own Lebowski Fest at the air-conditioned Bonnaroo Cinema tent. I guess now I need to bring along my purple Jesus Quintana bowling outfit in addition to my big suit. The big 'Roo starts exactly 2 weeks from today. There's your long overdue countdown alert. Meet me there for a much needed White Russian.
Bonnaroo Cinema [Bonnaroo.com]
The Dude abides.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Wherein the Subway Turnstile Dashes My Hopes [Life Imitating Art]
Sometimes your personal soundtrack syncs with your life just a little bit too perfectly. Case in point, as I'm heading home from work today, I'm head-nodding along to a Phish song called "Possum."
For those that don't know (or don't care about that damn dirty hippie music), "Possum" is a bouncy little number in which the singer "Was driving down the road one day, [and] someone hit a possum." The refrain of the tune culminates with a three part harmony on the word "Possum," held for as long as the lungs will allow, followed by the shouting declaration, "Your end is the road!"
So, as the song is nearing it's jammed out conclusion, I enter the subway station and see the train parked in the station, open doors beckoning. Charging for the turnstile I quickly swipe my card and attempt to run to the waiting train, but feel myself slammed backward by the stuck turnstile as the LED indicator lights up "Swipe Card Again." The subway doors close and I hang my head in defeat, perfectly in sync with the song's final crescendo, having reached the end of my road.
Of course, I got on the next train and returned to the comforts of home. Ol' Possum wasn't quite so lucky.
For those that don't know (or don't care about that damn dirty hippie music), "Possum" is a bouncy little number in which the singer "Was driving down the road one day, [and] someone hit a possum." The refrain of the tune culminates with a three part harmony on the word "Possum," held for as long as the lungs will allow, followed by the shouting declaration, "Your end is the road!"
So, as the song is nearing it's jammed out conclusion, I enter the subway station and see the train parked in the station, open doors beckoning. Charging for the turnstile I quickly swipe my card and attempt to run to the waiting train, but feel myself slammed backward by the stuck turnstile as the LED indicator lights up "Swipe Card Again." The subway doors close and I hang my head in defeat, perfectly in sync with the song's final crescendo, having reached the end of my road.
Of course, I got on the next train and returned to the comforts of home. Ol' Possum wasn't quite so lucky.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Opening Day is for everyone [the one with dinosaurs!]
Another Opening Day is in the books, and although the Yankees really let me down, it was still by any measure another fun and festive Opening Day. My favorite part was that it was chock full of baseball related goodness completely unrelated to anything happening on a field today.
First up, a bunch of fackin' hippies are going to kick off Phish's tour at Fenway. Thankfully, I'll be in Canada when this happens, so I won't even have to consider attending. Yes, we've established that I enjoy my Phish music, but if you've ever experienced the sardine-can seating at Fenway or stood next to a hippie you can imagine the olfactory misery that will ensue on May 31. If I have to say anything nice about it, the promo video for the concert on Phish.com is fan-fackin-tastic. In fact, these videos have been somewhat of a Phish 3.0 revelation. You may recall that the last such clip, announcing the band's late summer tour, eventually led us to the Fagot Farm in Georgetown, TX. I'll get you linked up to the rest of those vids at the bottom of this post, but I'm getting away from my intended point, which is that today's concert announcement gave me occasion to revisit what is widely recognized* as the greatest musical moment ever at Fenway Park. It had to be, because I witnessed it firsthand during my only visit to see the Green Monstah.
(*not recognized by anyone)
It happened during an annual summer baseball stadium pilgrimage. In 2007, the destination city was Boston, and our crew unsuspectingly -- and drunkenly -- stumbled into a moment that really was beyond description. I know that's a corny way to set up the clip, but it's true! And that's saying nothing of the fact that my memories of these baseball trips are often wobbly at best.
The second bit of opening day fun that happened today was a shout-out from Deadspin. This comes as no surprise, of course, given that we're famouser than Captain Kangaroo around here, but it made me happy that the internet got to enjoy one of my favorite road trip moments, the T-Rex first pitch. Going into Chicago/Milwaukee 2008, we weren't sure anything could top the previous summer's national anthem moment. Little did we know we were about to witness a Ceremonial First Pitch Fail 65 million years in the making.
I was stunned to see this linked on Deadspin personally, because it is in fact Schiff Happens original footage. My 2 favorite comments were Hurdleguy04 on YouTube mocking Wurm's cackle, and Buccos on Deadspin being spot-on hilarious.
So there, I'm totally capable of doing an Opening Day post that everyone can enjoy. And I didn't even gripe about the fackin Yankees (I let Jay take care of that).
Now let the UNC rout continue for one more half so that I can win some money and the ACC can once again dominate the Big 10. If only my overrating of the ACC overall hadn't let me down in the first 2 rounds, I might be able to do better than second place. And yes, I really picked UNC over Michigan State in the final and still can't win my pool.
In other words, Happy Opening Day, Happy Spring, welcome back Baseball.
Phish 3.0 tour announcement videos:
Late Summer 2009
Summer 2009
Hampton
Bonnaroo (only sort of related, but come on, it's been a while since I mentioned it. Speaking of which, you're still invited--65 days!).
First up, a bunch of fackin' hippies are going to kick off Phish's tour at Fenway. Thankfully, I'll be in Canada when this happens, so I won't even have to consider attending. Yes, we've established that I enjoy my Phish music, but if you've ever experienced the sardine-can seating at Fenway or stood next to a hippie you can imagine the olfactory misery that will ensue on May 31. If I have to say anything nice about it, the promo video for the concert on Phish.com is fan-fackin-tastic. In fact, these videos have been somewhat of a Phish 3.0 revelation. You may recall that the last such clip, announcing the band's late summer tour, eventually led us to the Fagot Farm in Georgetown, TX. I'll get you linked up to the rest of those vids at the bottom of this post, but I'm getting away from my intended point, which is that today's concert announcement gave me occasion to revisit what is widely recognized* as the greatest musical moment ever at Fenway Park. It had to be, because I witnessed it firsthand during my only visit to see the Green Monstah.
(*not recognized by anyone)
It happened during an annual summer baseball stadium pilgrimage. In 2007, the destination city was Boston, and our crew unsuspectingly -- and drunkenly -- stumbled into a moment that really was beyond description. I know that's a corny way to set up the clip, but it's true! And that's saying nothing of the fact that my memories of these baseball trips are often wobbly at best.
The second bit of opening day fun that happened today was a shout-out from Deadspin. This comes as no surprise, of course, given that we're famouser than Captain Kangaroo around here, but it made me happy that the internet got to enjoy one of my favorite road trip moments, the T-Rex first pitch. Going into Chicago/Milwaukee 2008, we weren't sure anything could top the previous summer's national anthem moment. Little did we know we were about to witness a Ceremonial First Pitch Fail 65 million years in the making.
I was stunned to see this linked on Deadspin personally, because it is in fact Schiff Happens original footage. My 2 favorite comments were Hurdleguy04 on YouTube mocking Wurm's cackle, and Buccos on Deadspin being spot-on hilarious.
So there, I'm totally capable of doing an Opening Day post that everyone can enjoy. And I didn't even gripe about the fackin Yankees (I let Jay take care of that).
Now let the UNC rout continue for one more half so that I can win some money and the ACC can once again dominate the Big 10. If only my overrating of the ACC overall hadn't let me down in the first 2 rounds, I might be able to do better than second place. And yes, I really picked UNC over Michigan State in the final and still can't win my pool.
In other words, Happy Opening Day, Happy Spring, welcome back Baseball.
Phish 3.0 tour announcement videos:
Late Summer 2009
Summer 2009
Hampton
Bonnaroo (only sort of related, but come on, it's been a while since I mentioned it. Speaking of which, you're still invited--65 days!).
Monday, March 30, 2009
No Texas festival for Phish, says Fagot farmer
Watch as a local news anchor introduces this story, describing how a video on Phish's official site went viral and created rumors of a late summer festival on a Georgetown, Texas farm. Then watch as the ensuing story, starring an unfortunately named farmer with a sweet mullet who confirms that there is no chance of Phish holding a summer-ending festival on his property, seems itself to have been scripted for viral glory. Small-town irony, gotta love it.
Fans tracked down the Fagot farm from his promotional video posted on the band’s web site.
Fans tracked down the Fagot farm from his promotional video posted on the band’s web site.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Ticketmaster hates Phish fans [Another Epic Fail]
Well, it happened. Luckily, nobody but a couple of fackers and, according to the stats, no less than seven of their lovable lady friends noticed it, but yesterday was the first flat tire along the Schiff Happens road to Bonnaroo. Yes, friends, I skipped a day on the Bonnaroo countdown.
I have no excuse for this egregious error, but here are some potentially reasonable explanations as to why this happened:
As soon as I saw this was happening, I went into frenzy mode. I @replied to a Twitter user called @imtrappedintime, the first person I saw tweet about the secretly released tickets. Feeling like I was working within an extremely limited time window, I eschewed the phone and instead instant messaged anyone I could find online who might care. I navigated the Ticketmaster site and, to my amazement, broke through to an order page. I actually backed out, with tickets in hand, out of sheer disbelief. I was able to get through a second time (nothing short of a miracle if you recall what happened the last time Phish tickets went on sale), and was staring at a 4-day, General Admission pass to what will no doubt be the jewel of the late summer tour. At this point, I am simultaneously having two separate IM conversations that both look something like this:
I waited instead of celebrating, mostly because even after I saw that my order had gone through, I found it impossible to believe that any of what had just transpired was real. How had it happened? Was there a friendly fan working for Ticketmaster? Was it a planned move by the band to thwart second-party scalpers (this was a prevailing rumor immediately after the tickets became unavailable again)? Was it simply a glitch that would inevitably be heartbreakingly corrected? There was no way to know for sure, and thus no way to be anything but cautiously optimistic. At least not for a couple of minutes, until, sure enough, I got the confirmation email. Then the payment hold on my online checking account statement. Holy shit, it was really happening. I scored the motherlovin golden ticket!
And then, a few short hours later, I met Slugworth in a back alley, and he buttfucked that golden ticket right out of my hands. In an epic case of, "I never should have gotten my hopes up because it was always too good to be true," Ticketmaster declared that the tickets had been released in error, and that all orders would be canceled.
Now, Ticketmaster is apparently within their rights to do this in the event of this kind of unintended premature sale, as their terms of service (which I am quite aware that I agreed to simply by clicking "Submit Purchase") state. However, in light of the aforementioned LiveNation disaster, the controversy surrounding the Ticketmaster/LiveNation merger, and recent condemnation of their shady practices from influential artists like Trent Reznor and Bruce Springsteen (throw a fist!), I can't help but think of all the great PR Ticketmaster would have received if they had simply decided to let the purchases stand. They could have said, "We effed ourselves a little bit, but scores of loyal fans got tickets, and that's ultimately what Ticketmaster is here to provide." Instead, they bent us all over and stole our Everlasting Gobstoppers. Again. As usual.
It stings to have the Golden Ticket in hand momentarily only to see it ripped away, but in the end, I'm no worse off right now than I was when I woke up yesterday. I've put in my official lottery request, and I'll be damned if I'm not due to win one of these things. I'm remaining optimistic, but my experience last night taught me that I'll always have to be prepared to be let down as long as Ticketmaster/LiveNation is the only way for me to procure the tickets necessary to go see the live music that I love so much.
The point, dear reader, is that I got wrapped up in other things and lost sight of my goal -- those Bonnaroo festival gates, miles from sight, inviting me to join the summer's biggest party. However, there's no reason to fret. We've still got our spot in line and will continue to count it down from here on out. In light of this most recent Ticketmaster disaster, I think it's only right that we pick up the countdown with a little bit of Bonnaroo artist Nine Inch Nails. Between Mr. Reznor's aforementioned tirade against Ticketmaster, and the fact that several of Nine Inch Nails' albums -- The Downward Spiral, Further Down the Spiral, Pretty Hate Machine -- could be used to describe the company, it just makes sense. I've always been fascinated by NIN but a little bit too terrified to fully dive into their catalog, so I look forward to freaking the living piss out of myself as I prepare myself for their set at the 'Roo just 83 short days from today.*
UPDATE: Phish have issued their official response. Nothing really surprising there. The bigger update is that Ticketmaster sent me and the rest of the melancholoy Phishheads a letter explaining the situation, which included the following conciliatory paragraph:
Fuckmylife Ticketmaster.
*If you don't want your precious childhood memories corrupted forever, or if you hate to laugh, then don't watch Kermit the Frog's rendition of "Hurt."
I have no excuse for this egregious error, but here are some potentially reasonable explanations as to why this happened:
- I have an actual job with actual work to do that doesn't involve sarcastic riffs on Philly sucking, the biggest loser in the history of reality television, or mustaches.
- I spent a few hours back at the doctor's office, including a subway voyage from work to the Upper East Side that was a pile of fail at every turn for absolutely no reason. On the plus side, I received a clean bill of health and was able to conclude my 24 hour Holter experiment, which ended with the same nurse who had hooked me up to the device on Tuesday violently ripping electrodes off of my torso and saying, "I told you it was gonna hurt." Of course, she saved the lone electrode that was deeply embedded in chest hair (the rest were on the sides of my abdomen) for last, building the nervous anticipation for my unplanned partial chest waxing. I may or may not have exclaimed "IAMSPARTACUS!" at the moment of detachment.
- I participated in the latest chapter of "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People," authored by the friendly scalpers at Ticketmaster. I smell a story....
As soon as I saw this was happening, I went into frenzy mode. I @replied to a Twitter user called @imtrappedintime, the first person I saw tweet about the secretly released tickets. Feeling like I was working within an extremely limited time window, I eschewed the phone and instead instant messaged anyone I could find online who might care. I navigated the Ticketmaster site and, to my amazement, broke through to an order page. I actually backed out, with tickets in hand, out of sheer disbelief. I was able to get through a second time (nothing short of a miracle if you recall what happened the last time Phish tickets went on sale), and was staring at a 4-day, General Admission pass to what will no doubt be the jewel of the late summer tour. At this point, I am simultaneously having two separate IM conversations that both look something like this:
ZOMGPHISHPASSESONSALEWTF?!?! What do we do? Do we buy them? Are we even going to go? Is this real? WTF is going on? Should I click submit? I'm gonna click submit. Did you submit? What do I do what do I do WHATDOIDO I'MFREAKINOUT!!!I don't know what came over me, but once my UVA fraternity buddy said he had submitted his request, I had to do it. Spontaneous $200 purchases for events that are months away and will be taking place across the country generally do not show up anywhere in the Schiff Happens playbook. It's just not something I do. But I did it. And then I waited....
I waited instead of celebrating, mostly because even after I saw that my order had gone through, I found it impossible to believe that any of what had just transpired was real. How had it happened? Was there a friendly fan working for Ticketmaster? Was it a planned move by the band to thwart second-party scalpers (this was a prevailing rumor immediately after the tickets became unavailable again)? Was it simply a glitch that would inevitably be heartbreakingly corrected? There was no way to know for sure, and thus no way to be anything but cautiously optimistic. At least not for a couple of minutes, until, sure enough, I got the confirmation email. Then the payment hold on my online checking account statement. Holy shit, it was really happening. I scored the motherlovin golden ticket!
And then, a few short hours later, I met Slugworth in a back alley, and he buttfucked that golden ticket right out of my hands. In an epic case of, "I never should have gotten my hopes up because it was always too good to be true," Ticketmaster declared that the tickets had been released in error, and that all orders would be canceled.
Now, Ticketmaster is apparently within their rights to do this in the event of this kind of unintended premature sale, as their terms of service (which I am quite aware that I agreed to simply by clicking "Submit Purchase") state. However, in light of the aforementioned LiveNation disaster, the controversy surrounding the Ticketmaster/LiveNation merger, and recent condemnation of their shady practices from influential artists like Trent Reznor and Bruce Springsteen (throw a fist!), I can't help but think of all the great PR Ticketmaster would have received if they had simply decided to let the purchases stand. They could have said, "We effed ourselves a little bit, but scores of loyal fans got tickets, and that's ultimately what Ticketmaster is here to provide." Instead, they bent us all over and stole our Everlasting Gobstoppers. Again. As usual.
It stings to have the Golden Ticket in hand momentarily only to see it ripped away, but in the end, I'm no worse off right now than I was when I woke up yesterday. I've put in my official lottery request, and I'll be damned if I'm not due to win one of these things. I'm remaining optimistic, but my experience last night taught me that I'll always have to be prepared to be let down as long as Ticketmaster/LiveNation is the only way for me to procure the tickets necessary to go see the live music that I love so much.
The point, dear reader, is that I got wrapped up in other things and lost sight of my goal -- those Bonnaroo festival gates, miles from sight, inviting me to join the summer's biggest party. However, there's no reason to fret. We've still got our spot in line and will continue to count it down from here on out. In light of this most recent Ticketmaster disaster, I think it's only right that we pick up the countdown with a little bit of Bonnaroo artist Nine Inch Nails. Between Mr. Reznor's aforementioned tirade against Ticketmaster, and the fact that several of Nine Inch Nails' albums -- The Downward Spiral, Further Down the Spiral, Pretty Hate Machine -- could be used to describe the company, it just makes sense. I've always been fascinated by NIN but a little bit too terrified to fully dive into their catalog, so I look forward to freaking the living piss out of myself as I prepare myself for their set at the 'Roo just 83 short days from today.*
UPDATE: Phish have issued their official response. Nothing really surprising there. The bigger update is that Ticketmaster sent me and the rest of the melancholoy Phishheads a letter explaining the situation, which included the following conciliatory paragraph:
In addition, we’d like to show our sincere regret for this error by providing you with a gift certificate in the amount of $50.00 that is redeemable for any purchase for tickets to qualifying events on Ticketmaster.com or through our call centers as long as your order was in accordance with our standard order guidelines. You should receive this gift certificate in the next two weeks.So some small bit of good has come out of this... I guess. "We set you up for heartbreak -- oops, our bad -- but please enjoy this 50 dollars, which you can attempt to use next week as you inevitably get shut out of the same tickets you already had in your hand because we've sold them all to scalpers."
We are sorry that we were not able to provide you with the tickets you ordered and hope that we will have the chance to serve you better in the future. We encourage you to visit Ticketmaster at the scheduled onsale for Phish at Red Rocks currently scheduled for Thursday March 26, 2009 at 12:00 pm MT.
Fuck
*If you don't want your precious childhood memories corrupted forever, or if you hate to laugh, then don't watch Kermit the Frog's rendition of "Hurt."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Bonnaroo Countdown is on!
The Jersey fists take over Manchester, TN in 91 days. Will you be there?
Today, Bonnaroo announced that this year, festivalgoers will have the chance to live their Bonnaroo dream. There will be over a dozen Xbox 360 kiosks set up in the Arcade Discotheque, which will allow yours truly to play Rock Band 2 on the big screen and wow tens of music lovers with my button mashing skills. The best party game ever comes to the biggest party of the summer. It was only a matter of time.
Speaking of which, it will only be a matter of time until the big 'Roo kicks off - in fact, June 11 is exactly 3 months from today. In just 91 measley days, the Schiff Happens caravan - space still available, inquire within - will invade Manchester, Tennessee, and I'll be damned if we don't have ourselves a good old-fashioned countdown from now until then.
Here's how it's gonna work. Every day from now until Bonnaroo, I'll pick a band from the lineup, maybe drop an interesting little knowledge nugget on you (some bit of trivia or anecdotal nonsense) and give you an audio track or a video sample of their work. With each passing day we'll get more acquainted with the musical company we'll be keeping at Bonnaroo until finally the big day will be upon us.
How much longer did he say? Only 91 days?
I have a feeling this endeavor will grow and change a lot over the course of the next 90 days. That being said, if you have a favorite band or song from among the vast initial lineup (more still to come, where are the comedians?) and you feel that you can hype them up better than I can, by all means let me know. Email me and we'll set it up. I'd love to see what others come up with.
So to kick things off, we're going to keep it real simple. With 91 days until Bonnaroo, allow me to introduce you to one of this year's headliners, playing Friday and Sunday night on the main stage... Phish! Phish are 4 dudes who started a band at the University of Vermont. Individually, Trey Anastasio, Mike Gordon, Page McConnell and Jon Fishman are incredibly talented musicians. Together, they are a revolutionary band who pioneered a movement toward group improvisation and extended jam-grooves, and pretty much the most colossal touring force in the history of music. Or, as Rolling Stone calls them, "The most important band of the Nineties." They are defined by the aforementioned qualities, as well as blending genres from rock and jazz to funk and bluegrass, hiatuses (2 extended breakups during their more than 20-year history), hosting large-scale festivals for upwards of 85,000 people at a time, and their insanely loyal fans who are willing to follow the band anywhere, pay any price, take any risk, and ingest any substance in order to enjoy just one more Phish show. The band recently reunited almost 5 years after their last farewell show, the emotional but musically underwhelming Coventry festival in Vermont. I was one of those lucky enough to wade through the mud all weekend and hear Phish sob through half-hearted versions of their once-epic hits at Coventry. Wasn't quite lucky enough to attend this weekend's festivities in Hampton, VA. Whatever, at least I didn't have to hang out with these cretins.
Anyway, Phish are back in top form and ready to rock all of our summers, so as we embark on this countdown to Bonnaroo, Phish and I welcome you to return to this space each day for just a little bit more hype. It is in that spirit that I invite you to come waste your time with me. 91 days to go, friends (and today is almost over). As always, I only want to know one thing.
Who's comin with me?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
It took me a long time to get back on the train
Sweet poster art by AJ Masthay
I've missed out on a lot this week, but if there's one way to end an unintended blog hiatus on my part, it's the end of Phish's latest hiatus. As I followed the action from Hampton, VA, two things really stood out.
First, the band appears to have rehearsed itself back into vintage form. There were some high points during their last run in 2004, but those highs were quickly surpassed by a monstrous first set Friday night, and from there the hits kept coming throughout the weekend. Yes, time flies by quickly -- it doesn't feel like it was that long ago when Schiff Happens (with younger bro in tow) was in the stands in Brooklyn, hailing the beginning of the end of Phish 2.0. However, by the time things finished up late last night, even the best of '04 felt like a distant memory. Phish 3.0 is officially here, and charging hard to regain the crown of "Most Powerful Touring Force in Music."
Photo by C. Taylor Crothers
Secondly, a shitload has changed (and happened in general) since the last time I or anyone else saw Phish live, at their now infamous "farewell" festival in Coventry, Vermont at the end of that same '04 tour. Back then, I couldn't even get a cell signal to call home and tell my parents, "Don't worry about me, I'm just hiking 10 miles through Vermont cow pastures after abandoning our car and all our gear on the side of the highway to go camp out in a festering mud puddle and watch a jamband play like a shell of its former self with a bunch of hippies for 3 days. Seriously, I'm fine, but I have to go -- I just had a brownie and it tasted a little funny." This weekend, I was following on Twitter as setlists and photos were posted in real time, and short of having an online audio/video multicast available (side note to Phish management: I would have happily purchased and watched this, pay-per-view style), watching the posts roll in on Twitterfall while listening to my favorite version of whatever song they were playing and checking out the live photos surprisingly put me in the middle of the action. It was the first time in my long, storied history of internet time-wasteage that I've ever followed a live event on the web like that and actually felt like I was in on the experience. Very different from following your team on the Yahoo gamecast, for example. I've always kept it pretty ghetto when it came to cellular telephone devices, but after this weekend, "Upgrade to iPhone/Blackberry" jumped at least 15 spots on the list of things to do before summer.
Other things have changed, too. It's tough to believe that Phish have been gone, lingering in the wings, for almost 5 years. In that time I have lived and traveled abroad, graduated from college, lived in 4 different places and had 3 different jobs in Stamford, CT and New York City, growing a little older and a lot more confused with each passing day. While Phish were getting their heads straight, rediscovering and reinventing themselves, I was attempting to do the same thing. Wouldn't it be nice if you could call time-out on life, Zack Morris style, go on a little life hiatus, work out all your issues, figure things out, then pop back in on life and come back with a vengeance, better than ever before?
Unfortunately, life has no set-break, and doesn't allow for such soul-searching hiatus periods. Seven days off from blogging is apparently as close as it gets. I could take this thought a lot further, and probably will at some point, but that's enough existential musings for one Monday. Not like you haven't seen it already, but I'm sure you're much more interested in the full setlist and a few more of these awesome pictures from this weekend's Phish concerts (see the rest of the official photos and setlists here). And in case you're interested, soundboard recordings of all 3 shows are currently available for free download on Phish's official music store, LivePhish.com. FLAC and CD options are also available if you're against free music.
Photo by C. Taylor Crothers
In closing, I'm bummed as hell that I didn't get to attend this weekend. Not only was it the return to top form of one of my favorite bands ever, but it would have been the perfect setting for a reunion with my old UVA cronies. For someone who isn't even from there, nobody gives more love to the big V-A than this guy. I guess I figured that karma would bring it back to me, but somehow I was the only one of my friends who didn't end up with tickets to like 7 shows. Not that I'm bitter or anything, just that much more geeked for June to get here already. From Camden to 'Roo Jersey, I'll certainly get my fill of Phishiness. As always, I only have one question: Who's comin with me??
PHISH Hampton 3/6/09
I see Trey. He looks glorious.
Set One:
Fluffhead
Divided Sky
Chalk Dust Torture
Sample In A Jar
Stash
I Didn't Know
Oh Kee Pah Ceremony
Suzy Greenberg
Farmhouse
NICU
Horn
Rift
Train song
Water in the Sky
Squirming Coil
David Bowie
Photo by Jeff Kravitz
Set 2:
Backwards Down The Number LIne
Tweezer
Taste
Possum
Theme from the Bottom
First Tube
Harry Hood
Waste
YEM
Photo by C. Taylor Crothers
Encore:
Grind
Bouncing Around The Room
Loving Cup
PHISH Hampton 3/7/09
Set one:
Back On The Train
Runaway Jim
Brian & Robert
Split Open and Melt
Heavy Things
Punch You in the Eye
Gumbo
Reba
Mexican Cousin
It's Ice
Halley's Comet
Beauty of a Broken Heart
Guelah Papyrus
Lawn Boy
Run Like An Antelope
Lawn Boy
Photo by Jeff Kravitz
Set two:
Rock & Roll
Limb by Limb
Story of the Ghost
Piper
Birds of a Feather
Wolfman's Brother
Prince Caspian
Mike's Song >
I Am Hydrogen >
Weekapaug Groove
Character Zero
"It was a Wolfman's Brother"
Photo by Jeff Kravitz
Encore:
A Day in the Life
PHISH Hampton 3/8/09
Set One:
Sanity
Wilson
Foam
Bathtub Gin
Undermind
AC/DC Bag
My Friend, My Friend
Scent of a Mule
All Of These Dreams
Maze
She Thinks I Still Care*
Army of One
Tube
Cars Trucks Buses
Free
Frankenstein**
Play it, Cactus!
Photo by Jeff KravitzSet Two:
Down With Disease^
Seven Below
The Horse >
Silent In The Morning
Twist
2001
Moma Dance
While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Wading In The Velvet Sea
Slave To The Traffic Light
"It's a guitboard."
"It's a keytar".
"Is it a keyboard or a guitar?"
"Exactly."
Photo by Julia Mordaunt
Encore:
Contact
Bug
Tweezer Reprise
*George Jones original, sung by Mike
**with Page on Keytar...(Schiff Happens: freakin' keytar!)
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