I'm watching an old VHS copy of "E.T." this morning. Classic. It got me thinking of how you never know what the future will bring. Who knew that cute little girl would become a lush by eleven, show Letterman her boobs in her twenties, have a spred in Playboy (not really much of a "spred"), and that I'd make her the theme to an early G. Cool tune (which, by the way, is available for purchase on this site. Never too early for Christmas shopping. The song "Drew Barrymore" is found on the CD, WHO DIED AND MADE YOU ELVIS?) which mentions everybody's favorite peanut head, E.T.! Full circle, baby, it's the circle of life... hakuna ma ta ta. By the way, yes, I've got a thing for Drew Barrymore, but not too much of a thing (that didn't sound right, did it?) to see "Charlie's Angels". Sorry Drew (she might read the Butch Blog, you never know. Stranger stuff has happened. I once slept for 40 minutes on a stranger's couch in St. Louis while Celtic music was blasting out a stereo decorated with beer and hockey paraphernalia.) May the force be with you. Wrong film maker, same time period (about the time when the cat that sings for Everclear was a scared white boy in a black neighborhood.) Take care. Later, Butch

Last night was quite productive. Jay and I spent some time working on the drum tracks for the new CD. Hopefully, it'll be out before the end of the year. These things take time and patience. Thankfully, he and I work very well together. We listen to each other and are constantly trying and discussing new ideas. We worked on getting the kick to sound like we wanted, same with the snare. Then we added 2 electric rhythm guitar tracks, one clean, one dirty. We also added an acoustic guitar track to the whole thing. It's weird but the acoustic mixed in with the 2 electrics all blend in to make one big rhythm guitar track. The song we were working on was an upbeat, edgier tune called "50 Miles". It's not an acoustic guitar song at all, but that acoustic mixed in the back gives it so much more life, makes it much fuller. Listen to all The Stones stuff and you'll hear an acoustic guitar way in back. It's on old recording trick. Finally, we added my lead vocals. We still have to re-record Jay's lead guitar tracks, as well as Chris' bass, and then add backing vocals and possibly some tambourine. It's a long and arduous process but I feel really good about finally getting this disc rolling. In total, we'll do 11 or 12 songs for this release. Rob's drums are done as far as recording. He'll still have to record any percusion parts (tambourine, shaker, etc.), and all his backing vocal parts. Jay and I will have to go back to each drum track and EQ the hell out of them. Actually, it's Jay who does all the technical stuff. I just sit, listen, and offer up ideas. As you can see, it's quite a beast to tame. Time and patience will hopefully deliver us a killer sounding record. Take care. Later, Butch

Take a deep breath. Exhail slowly. Clear your mind. Tell yourself over and over again that it'll all work out in the end, that this too shall pass. Take another deep breath, repeat process as long as it takes. That's my tip for today, as that's where I find myself today. You know how sometimes you feel so tired (even though you've had enough sleep) that every little thing seems like a big deal? OK, maybe it's just me who feels like that from time to time. Anyway, there's a certain panic and anxiety that seems to creep up. In the end (as I keep reminding myself over and over again), I'll get past all this and it will all seem so trivial. "Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny", sang The Boss in "Rosalita". I'm with you, Bruce, it's just that today it seems like it would've been a good day to pull a Brian Wilson, and stay in bed. Although I know, deep down, that's actually the worst thing one could do. I remind myself, as I always do, that I'm blessed and lucky to have the life I do. There are so many others who are in much more dire straits than I. My difficulties are minor. Little things that seem, and that's the key word here, seem, to all come at the same time, start to add up. It gets overwhelming. I know we've all been there. I've been there many times, and I'm sure I'll visit many times more. I've just never had a daily blog before, a place where I write out what's going through my head at the moment. Oh well, enough on this. Time to stop cryin'. Time to take a deep breath..., take care. Later, Butch

Yesterday, I mentioned the bad soundman at a recent out of town gig. Today, I would like to explain further. Besides the fact that he leaves his soundboard to either go to the bar for a drink or go to the back kitchen to play grab ass, he likes to "wire" things up himself. At the end of the set you can smell the electrical burn that occured to the speaker cab stage left. Sure, during the load in, he was big man on campus, showing his little troll friends the wiring job he'd just completed. But alas, in the end he was left with a fried cab. Now you might be saying to yourself, "Butch, don't be a girly man. Why should you care if he choses to burn his equipment?". Well, besides the fact that I think we'd sound better if the speakers weren't full of fuego, there's the issue of me feeling like Sean Penn in "Dead Man Walking". See, his "wiring" also must've screwed up the grounding on the wall socket my amp was plugged in to. Basically, once I was touching the strings on my electric guitar, and my mouth was touching the mic (mixed with spit, of course, to make a better connection), I saw Jesus. It was a flash of pure white that surrounded my eyes, my brain, my entire being. Pure white, almost angelic. I thought I heard the voices of my dead relatives telling me I had to go back, that it wasn't my time yet. Besides that, it hurt. Not like I was shoed in the nuts, but more like I was stuck in the microwave with the cat and the popcorn. To top it off, after my date with ol' sparky and the flash of lightning, I look up to find an empty sound booth. He was back in the kitchen trying to score some free yum yum sticks (luncheon meat with ginger). Here I am feeling like Bruce the shark at the end of the JAWS attraction at Universal Studios, and sound ass is stuffing his face with yum yum. But enough of that. I'm glad I got it out. I needed to. It's good to purge. I feel better, thanks for listening. Take care. Later, Butch

Busy as bees are we. We finally started recording the new CD. The weekend started with a gig in St. Augustine. We took a different route than usual, and saw plenty of ol' Florida on the way. We ate barbeque in the middle of nowhere. Got back to Tampa and to bed around 5:30 AM, only to wake up by 9. Long day. Because we know the material for the new CD so well, the sessions this weekend went very smoothly. We were able to record 10 drum and bass guitar tracks in 2 days. We achieved what we set out to do. Are we tired? Of course, but the train is still moving forward so all are happy. It's a happy train. We're staying focused, getting through the crap that sometimes goes along with this whole thing. The soundman on Friday was just as bad as he was the last time we played that gig.. At least he's consistant. But what are you going to do? You go out and play your set. You play it as if the soundman was the best thing going since Hawaiian Punch Red. Attitude is everything, and staying positive is king. The new songs are sounding great. Now Jay and I will complete the guitar tracks, followed by all the vocals, and finally the mixing and mastering. It's such a long process, at times really really exhausting. I'll take live gigs over going into the studio any day. I've always been like that. Hopefully, by year's end, there will be a new CD to hear. I'm anxious to finish this recording and get to writing the next CD. It's not that I'm tired of these songs, infact, I'm thinking this might be some of the best stuff we've ever done, but it's time to meet some totally new songs. Time to shake hands with what's coming up next. That anticipation is what keeps me going. The thought that there's always something new, something fresh, right around the corner. A new beginning is where it's at. Not that the past is bad, but I always need to be looking ahead, looking forward to the next adventure. Take care. Later, Butch

Sorry this blog is being written so late in the day. I usually write these during the week in the early AM, but today I was side tracked. Seems I had the idea for a short folksy/countrified dity concerning gypsies, California, weather, and love. The story seemed so clear to me. Once the tune enters my head, I've got to get to the pen and paper, and the guitar, and let that baby be born. It's needs to breath. Then, for the next few hours, I'll hum it over and over in my head, refine the meter, and pray for it to move on out of my head so that another sibbling can be conceived. It's a gift, I guess, the tunes I hear in my head (some of you may disagree, ie, those who think I'm talentless). Sometimes, when my "water breaks", and it's 11 PM on a Tuesday, and I'm tired and need to go to sleep, I call it a curse (some of you may agree, ie, those of you who think I'm talentless. I don't care, I love my children). Anywho, that's why the blog was late. The songs complete, though. Hopefully, I'll play it out soon. It was written for the acoustic guitar and harmonica, so it will be played while the guys are on break. Tonight we're in St. Augustine. Let's pray for a soundman who knows what he's doing. More on that tomorrow. Take care. Later, Butch

Katrina, Rita. Leave it to a woman to show up in town unexpectedly, raise havoc, and leave you wet, thirsty, and homeless. What's the deal? And these hurricanes are getting bigger and badder. It's like the NBA. Shaq and Yao are bigger, Ron Artest and Ben Wallace are badder. Kobe's just Kobe. Can't a playa play? All coastal citizens have to be getting paranoid every time they hear the word hurricane. Did you see how fast people were leaving Galveston? The last time they had that type of traffic out of town was when the State Fair Hog Contest was moved to Austin. (I'll be here all week. Try the veal.) Imagine if the storms didn't have nice friendly (and in these two cases) female names. People would double freak if the Weather Channel reported Hurricane Saddam was on the horizon. Or Hurricane Lucifer, Hurricane Hitler, Hurricane Throckmorton! Being a Florida resident my entire life, I guess I'm pretty lucky to never have been hit head on. Sure, I've had work, gigs, and vacations canceled due to a hurricane, but I've never been washed out...although I have experienced a woman showing up unexpectedly, raising havoc, and leaving me wet, thirsty, and homeless. Go figure. Take care, Later, Butch

Well today my head is spinning, my mind filled with so many numbers and dates. No time to worry about Jen and Oprah, or even Gilligan. It's business mode. To say the band is busy, or has things "in the works" would be an understatement. As you achieve, more is needed to keep moving forward. More time, energy, money, etc. Such are the thoughts in my head this morning. Now, don't get me wrong, this is good. It means the band is pressing forward, not content with being an Ybor City fixture. The leap has taken place, and now one must do and deal with what happens once the leap has been made. As in everything, there is good and easy, and there is hard and long. The main thing is to stay focused, and in doing so, stay positive. It's not taking yourself too seriously, it's just expecting more, both from yourself and the situation. 2006 is going to be different than any other year for us as a band. We've been busy before, but I have a feeling this will be busy like we've never known. 2005 is going out in a roar. I expect 2006 will have us visiting places we never thought of, and working harder than we ever thought we could. I'm focused and ready. It's time "to give this game a ride", as John Fogerty said in "Center Field". "Put me in , coach, I'm ready to play". Take care. Later, Butch

So Jennifer Aniston told Oprah she's ready to move on, and the Nelson twins turn 38. Wow, what an exciting time to be alive. Things are what you make them. I hate Oprah. I think she talks down to her audience, and they still flock to her like blind sheep. I can't really feel bad for Jen. Why do you make your personal life everybody's business? Leave that to that kooky (that's right, with a "k") Tom Cruise. Let him jump up and down on a sofa, let him argue with people on TV, let Mr. Risky Business run his junk business in the tabs, but not you, Jen. You were a "friend". I refuse to discuss the two blond whimpy rockers. Sorry to all Nelson fans, but as I stated during the Lightning's Stanley Cup run, "Enough's enough". Things are what you make them. I won't watch Dr. Phil or American Idol, I'm happy gas prices are going down, I'm sad but accepting that the Cubs had another crappy season, and I miss Gilligan. (I think another Christmas "List" is coming on. By the way, our Christmas CD, "A GROOVY Christmas and a COOL New Year" is available for purchase on this site, and does include the song, "The List". You can never start Holiday shopping too early.) Yes, I am cranky. Yes, I am tired. Yes, I will get over it. Until then, remember, things are what you make them. And I will make them sunshine, not clouds; birds, not mosquitoes; ice cream, not gruel. So... HAPPY BIRTHDAY NELSON TWINS!!! Take care. Later, Butch

It's the little things that matter. My lunch today is a PB & J with a Pepsi Vanilla. But wait, it gets better. We just booked a gig in late October in a little college town in Northwestern Georgia. You know what that means: sweater weather! I love sweater weather for several reasons. It's something we don't get to do to often down here in Florida, if it's the right sweater you'll look smarter (HINT TO CORKY: add some big round glasses and you're a shoe in with the Mensa crowd), and it's an awesome addition to the ladies (see "Driving To Canada" lyrics). Besides all that, I'm stoked because another one of my life long goals has been reached. I've climbed Everest, and I'm like Sylvester Stalone in Philly, doing my victory dance at the top for the whole world to see. The goal was lofty. I remember watching "Eddie and The Crusiers" religously thinking, "One day, I want to play a college homecoming gig." Remember when The Cruisers played Fairly Dickenson in Jersey (it's in the Madison/ Morristown/ Whippany area for you geography buffs)? Then Eddie went kind of postal 'cause he was a high school dropout and his self esteem was crappy and here were all these "rich college kids". Eddie was a rock and roller, a low life. Man, what a turning point in my life. And now I'm playing LaGrange College's Homecoming (it gets super better: we're opening for a Journey cover band. "Anyway you want it, that's the way you need it, anyway you want it.) I want it with chicks in tight sweaters. Rock on! I feel bad for Karen, our manager, as this will be her first "van" road trip with us, and we are sure to crank the jackass level up a notch or two. I mean, c'mon, cool weather, a college bash, and Journey? Jay's already claiming he will visit his old frat house (he's an alum) and get "stupid". I can't wait. Christmas has come early. Take care. Later, Butch

Last night I met Elvis. I was playing a little dive out in Largo (as if Largo would have big dives... oh, wait, it probably does). I introduced the song "Elvis Is Not Dead" ( a favorite of both Chicago natives Tommy T. and Johnny O.). It's from the CD, "Honeylove", which by the way, is available for purchase on this site. You can never start Christmas shopping too early. Anyway, I intro the song and this really really really drunk kid with a Hungry Howie's crest emblazing the left brest of his flour ladened golf shirt screams, "I'm ELVIS!!!". What? He then comes up to me and produces a Dearborn, Michigan driver's license announcing his name is indeed Elvis. Who knew! I guess I had it right when I wrote the song. Forget the fame and fortune. I do this job because of the amazing people I meet. Take care (I'm kinda tired and only have 3 gigs and 2 days to go). Later, Butch

Tonight we begin with the first of 4 shows in 3 days. Also, for the first time, we'll do 2+ hours of nothing but original music. We've got some good guys, The Burners, warming up the crowd with some covers before we hit the stage around 11:30. I'm really looking forward to playing our songs for that length of time. I'm confident with the material, and every time we play with or open for another band, I'm always like, "I wish I could've played that one, but time ran out", after we've finished the set. For the next 2 nights it's our music for 2 hours, period. It's been a long time coming, being able to do that. I'm ready to go. I know come Sunday night (a half hour set with like 4 other bands down in Ybor), I'm going to be exhausted, but satisfied. I've been told that before we go on, when I'm getting the set ready, etc., that I get blinders on as I start to focus on the gig. Well, for this weekend, I think my blinders are going on as I type this (8:15 AM). I'm anxious to see if our music can keep the crowd going for that length of time. I know I've got to be on, at my best, but relaxed enough to get through to the crowd, make that connection. After endless cover gig marathons, I'm so ready for the challenge. Tonight another door is walked through, another chapter begins. And after all, isn't that what makes it worth while, fun? I'll keep you posted. Take care, Later, Butch

A few nights ago we played 4 songs at a small blues bar way out on the edge of town. Every so often we'll do that, go to a jam night where we know someone in the host band, where they'll let us play as a band, not pair us off as jam nights are designed to do. We do it for a few reasons: play out new material, allow "someone" to hear us play live, make a contact, a short practice, attract a new supporter, or because Rob wants to hang out with some musician friends, play, drink beer, and not be bored sitting at home. Actually, this jam night plan was fueled by Rob, and has worked out well. I think it came to him more from a desire to play as often as possible (the guy would play drums every night if he could, and even used to host a jam night at a local club as well), then strictly from a business idea. Regardless of the reason, it's something we'll do once every few months, especially if there's a lull in our schedule (which means if we're off a full weekend!). What I found very interesting, and very comforting, the other night, was the realization that our original music has a little bit of something for almost any kind of club. Granted, we couldn't play a jazz, Latin, or death metal bar, but we can fit into just about every place in between. After we get a sense of the place, we'll discuss if we want to go edgy, twangy, or straight up. I'm very comfortable with that. While our style cancels us out immediately from some clubs, I think in the long run it allows us to play so many more clubs than if we were pigeon holed into one specific genre. It's also a good (as Jay reminds me of) style to grow old to. We'll never have to get out of the spandex with our stuff. Building confidence in your material is very important. I think the jam last Tuesday did that for me. Karen also sold some tickets for an upcoming show to new found fans in the crowd (she's always working), and Rob, well... he drank beer. Take care. Later, Butch

Jackass. What a wonderful expression. My friend Jim introduced the true meaning of the word to me several years ago. He would repeatedly call everyone he saw a jackass. To me the word said so much, held so much emotion. Very deep. Since then, I've used it, abused it, and made it my own. The band has nicknames that only we share between us. Mine is "Jackass". "Hey, Jackass, what are we playing next?" or, " Hey, Jackass, what time are we meeting for rehearsal?", that sort of thing. Sometimes Rob calls me Cuban or Cuban Jackass. It's lovely. (Jay and I, though, for some strange reason, refer to each other on the phone as "Playa", but only when we're on the phone.) Jay's nickname is "Corky" because he's portly, and sometimes I swear he is retarded. Rob's is "Red Neck", 'nuff said. Karen is "BB'" for British Bulldog. I referred to her as this once on a telephone radio interview for a station in Daytona Beach while we were road tripping it through Alabama. Sometimes Jay calls her "Dutchess" but that's because he's a "Corky". Now if you had the look of Michael Stipe crossed with Powder, what would your nickname be? We call Chris "Baby Alfred", and I think it suites him perfectly. He got it as a baby from his mom. I love that little minx, Baby Alfred. So back to me, I'm "Jackass". My cell phone's message every time I turn it on says, "Hello Jackass", and that's alright with me. See, jackass is like "Good Fellas", it's what we are, how we are, the way we view the world, and our place in it. A jackass is someone who makes mistakes, knows he's going to make mistakes, accepts himself as being that way, never takes himself or life too seriously, and thus gets by with a smile. That's me: I'm a jackass and proud of it. Now a REAL jackass is a jerk. We don't like that. Take care. Later ... jackass, Butch

Remember I said "the calm before the storm" a few days ago? Well here come the rains. Yesterday the band received great news: we've been selected to play a showcase gig for record/TV/movie type big wigs in Jacksonville in November as part of some international showcase festival. Kudos to the lady that runs the business end of this ship, our very own British Bulldog, Karen. Her hard work is paying off. The opportunity for us to play, and for Karen to "mingle" the VIP parties we have access to, is awesome. As with everything in this biz, nothing's ever simple and easy. The dates for Jacksonville mean whatever (and there's quite a bit of whatever) gigs we were playing now must be dealt with. Schedules must be looked at, switched; phone calls made, emails written, phone tag played. Again kudos to BB: her work is never ever done. Such is this thing we call a band, and the business of a band. Many think it's strapping on a guitar and having fun, and it is, but it's also much more. We all spend so much time, so much of our families' time, trying to mold a Venus out of this Play Dough. In the days that follow I'll keep you posted on Jacksonville, and all that it will take to get us there. And once all the crap has been straightened out, I'll strum that first chord on my Telecaster, and all will be forgotten (that is until we get the next bit of good news). Thanks Karen. You are the gas this engine runs on. Although we run on high test (don't you dare say I'm a diva), we're starving artists, so please remember to keep your prices in check! Take care. Later, Butch
P.S. Do we get a free car wash? (What the hell does that mean?)

As the painting was wrapping up, the Spring cleaning kicked in (even though it's Fall, lots of crap to throw out). It made me think of my song ideas... no, not the crap part, jackass, the throwing old stuff out part. I never throw any song ideas away. Not musical or lyrical. You never know when you need a song, a chord change, or even a line. It's cool to look back and find one line that became a whole other song. I've been thinking of going back to my notes (some are in a notebook, others in a box, page after page on loose leaf, napkins, deposit slips, etc.). There's an old song I haven't messed with since 1996 maybe. It's called "Delaware". The lyrics are on the inside cover of a Hunchback of Notre Dame (Disney's) coloring book my son had left in the car. I'm thinking it might go well on this new CD we're working on. It's funny how a song almost 10 years old could work well with songs just a few weeks old (remember titles such as "50 Miles" and "Six Feet (Out the Door)", they'll be the new "Somekind of Boyfriend" and "April's Lips" for the new CD). Anyway, it just amazes me how a song that doesn't seem to fit at a certain time can fit so well years down the road. Sometimes it's the feel, sometimes the direction of the band, sometimes the way the guys in the band play style-wise. It's so many things. "Georgia Red Clay" was written in '88, and not recorded till 2001. Then some songs are written on a Tuesday, rehearsed on a Thursday, and played out that weekend (eventually being recorded in the next few months). I guess the thing is to never toss anything away. Save everything for a rainy day 'cause when writer's block hits, it's like a hurricane. The rain goes on and on but you're ok, you've got that old milk crate of ideas to help pull you through, get your creative juices back on track. Sometimes all it takes is some forgotten lyric to kick an idea into action. The whole process is very odd, never having a certain formula. I guess that's a good thing for several reasons: it never gets dull or boring, and you never get nervous that you'll never write another song. Hope springs eternal (even though it's Fall). Take care. Later, Butch

Ahh, what's in a name? It's an age old question, one which Shakespeare asked so long ago in "Romeo and Juliet". It was that "rose by any other name smelling as sweet" thing. Anyway, I was reminded of this today when I got a call while hanging out in the paint aisle at the Home Depot (yep, still doing the paint thing). It was my old friend Jim. He was jokingly reminding me that I've turned my back on the Latino community and embraced the Irish (I am a Notre Dame fan). You know, the whole stage name thing. I started thinking again about "what's in a name?". If a music fan landed on Earth from Mars and saw the name Red Hot Chilli Peppers, he's got to be thinking Tex Mex. If Tom Petty looked like Justin Timberlake, the Heartbreakers would have you thinking beautiful, dancing, matching fashion wearing pin ups. The point is, would Raoul Zayas and Groovy Cool sound better, or even matter? Would Butch Ryan and Monkey Corpse be the best way to go? How about Raoul and The Butchers? Or Butch and the Z's? Who knows, who cares. In the end, it's the music that matters. Red Hot Chilli Peppers means Flea's funked out bass, not three Mexican guys with trumpets. Butch Ryan is what it is: the music, the style, the originality (fueled of course by the influences). Gracias Jim for getting me thinking. This blog was probably going to be about painting or Tommy Lee attending college (have you seen that?). See you on Monday. Take care. Later (hasta lluego), Butch

Well it's Friday and I'm off. No gig on a Friday doesn't happen to often for us. On a personal note, I will use the time to paint the dining room. Painting, that's something I'm really really bad at. Infact, all types of handy work are a bad idea. I can't change a door lock, hang a ceiling fan, or fix the sink. I CAN, however, MC your next bash. I CAN say really really bad jokes, so bad that you'll be laughing (although you may be laughing at me, not at the jokes). The point is we all have things we can do, things we can't. We need to accept that and live with it. For example, Rob, our drummer, can drink beer and smoke cigarettes, but he can't discuss John Milton's "Paradise Lost" with you. Big deal. Sometimes you don't need to discuss Milton, you need a friendly ear to listen to you over a Coors Light and a Winston. Thank you, Robert. Chris, the bass player, can discuss Milton, and he can also discuss Jenna Jameson, but he can't work with macaroni arts and crafts. Who cares, I love that little minx. Jay, well, he's good with sausage, God bless'em. So today's tip: accept and cherish your talents and don't worry about your weaknesses, somebody else will do that for you. Take care. Later, Butch

Not much going on these days in band camp. Being from Florida, however, I realize it's the calm before the storm. We'll do 4 shows in 3 days starting on the 16th of this month (see website "shows" list for details), then head back out to St. Augustine the following week before coming home for 3 plus hours of sleep and then heading into the studio to finally get this next CD going. October has us all around the Sunshine State, while November has us road tripping it towards the Midwest again. In between, Hurricane Relief gigs (possibly even going out to Louisianna). Yeah, like I said , the calm before the storm. I guess we all find ways to motivate ourselves. Whether it's simply the gigs, the music, the friendship, the road, or in one person's case (JAY) the thought of endless sausage in butter, with some sausage thrown in to add to the taste. Yup, this rock and roll thing is glamorous. Then again, I'm not sure what I'd do with myself if I wasn't giging, recording, generally having a guitar around my neck. I can't complain, it's what I do, who I am. Like I've said before, I keep Warren Zevon in mind, "enjoy every sandwich". You never know when the day will come where you'll be forced to only eat soup. Take care. Later, Butch

Ode to Gilligan (R.I.P. Bob Denver). When you stop to think about it, if it wasn't for Gilligan, we would've missed so much growing up. Some of the tunes that define, and have defined this band ("Dirty Girl", "Drew Barrymore") would never have made it to this songwriter's degenerate mind. In the late 70's Gilligan was rerun heaven every afternoon for a 13 year old Cuban boy from Tampa. My brother Richard and I would get home from school, kick off our topsiders, get a big bowl of Cap'n Crunch, and get ready for... GINGER! Whoa, what a redhead. The tenderloins of the Catholic schoolboy would never be the same. And if it wasn't for Gilligan and his merry mix-ups, the Professor's seaweed/coconut radio would've ended the series after a few short weeks. Episode after episode Gilligan would screw things up so efficiently, so "Gilligan" like, that we were assured more Ginger, more fire, more grrrr (oh, behave) for years to come. For those that didn't see what I saw in Ginger (or Maryann, when I was feeling less "animal", more "sensitive"), and hated Gilligan for screwing things up, I say back off. Two wrongs don't make a right BUT two Wrights make an airplane, and three rights make a left. The G man is probably hangin' out with Elvis, John Lennon, Jim Morrison, and the Skipper right now. Not bad company. Thanks little buddy. You did what you did well. In the end, that's all we can ask for. Take care. Later, Butch

Rock and roll is like pasta. Carbs = guitars. While every kind of pasta has carbs, every form of rock music has the guitar as its foundation. If it doesn't have a guitar in there somewhere, you're eating tofu. When thinking of classic rock, taste your basic spaghetti with marinera. Led Zep, with Jimmy Page's leads being that great big juicy meatball. Alfredo fettuccini is your punk/ska flavoring (The Clash, The Police, etc.) Bow ties? Queen. Angel hair, The Eagles. Want something thick? Metallica, AC/DC = lasagne. Now if you're wondering where we come in, it's simple. Have you ever been under the big tent at a Catholic school carnival? The accessible spaghetti dinner created by the working man, Luigi, with the help of a few dads from The Knights of Columbus. That's us. You know what your getting, and while you're at it, why not try to throw the baseball and sink Father Butch in the dunk tank? Come on, gimme yer best shot! Is that all you got? YOU THROW LIKE A GIRL!!! Take care. Later, Butch
P.S. I'll probably be taking Sundays and Holidays off, just so you know.

The water is still working it's magic on my cold. Only problem now is that I'm peeing every 15 minutes. It's always something, but I guess something is better than nothing. Case in point: last night's gig was a bit slow people-wise. Guess the gas armagedon has folks shaky. Anyway, a group of desperate housewives are celebrating a birthday. They're drinking, dancing, mixing in shots every so often. A buddy of the band's, from Spies and Parsons, sits in to sing the Stones' "Dead Flowers". I see this as a chance to table dance for the housewives. I'm up on the table strumming my Telecaster, shaking the junk, doing what it takes to get the place going (and make a little gas money). Song's done, I'm done and, hey, nothing to show for it other than they did have a good time taking pictures of my ass with their cell phones. I'm thinking (as Bill Murray's Carl did in "Caddy Shack") how 'bout a little somethin', you know, for the effort? Now as I stated earlier, something is better than nothing. One of the desperate housewives comes up to the stage during the next song and stuffs a dollar in my crotch. Not a fortune, but a third of a gallon of gas. Remember, something is always better than nothing. Take care. Later, Butch

Spoke with Airball last night (he's my Chitown connection). Made me realize how much we need to get back there next summer for a gig. Chicago is a great town. About last night, good gig. Band was tight. I think everyone is pretty excited about the new material we're playing live. Can't wait to get them down on tape. Tonight and tomorrow night's gigs will be on one of my favorite stages. Should make for a cool weekend. Speaking of cool, as in cold, I've still got mine, although I was told by a friend drinking lots and lots and lots of water would help. It has, I'm feeling better. So today's tip: drink lots of water and feel better (unless, of course, if you're drowning. Then lots of water would be bad). Back to the new material, these songs are really growing on me. It's so important for us to play them live for a bit before we record them. It's like buying new jeans: they look great when they're new, but it's once they've been really broken in do you appreciate them. That's enough rambling for today. Take care. Later, Butch

The first of the Butch blogs, and I've got a cold. The band is as busy as ever. We start a run of 3 shows tonight, then 2 days off for the Labor Day weekend, and finally 3 days of studio time starting Tuesday of next week. We'll get down drum tracks next week for a new CD we hope will be out by the end of the year. Then in the upcoming months I'm sure this blog will be full of details concerning the rest of the recording at Jay's studio. Between the studio and the live gigs, we're keeping a tight schedule. We hope to get all around Florida, with another short Midwest run at Thanksgiving (up as far as Tennessee), before we head back to the UK in March. As for the summer of '06, either an East coast run up to Jersey and NYC, or another Chicago/Midwest run, or combine both for a much longer tour. Either way, we'll have many adventures "on the road "(in the van) in the next 10 months or so. Ahh, the life of an original rock'n'roll band! Believe me, it's not so glamourous but we have a good time. Remember what the late great Warren Zevon said on Letterman when asked if a dying man could share some sort of new found knowledge with the rest of us, "enjoy every sandwich." Think I'll make mine a Cuban. Talk to you soon. Later, Butch