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WELCOME TO ISSUE #5 OF THE MZ NEWSLETTER!
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I have a lot on my docket over the next month, so I decided to rush out another issue while I have a few days off. As I’ve done with past issues, I asked our 82-year-old neighbor, Graciela, to read through it and offer any thoughts or suggestions. Graciela looked it over, then slowly shook her head and handed it back to me without comment. Her response was neither encouraging nor helpful. It might not seem like it, but I labor over these newsletters far more than I should. It's sad, really. I need to get a hobby. I'm 62 years old and I've never had one. Now that things are slowing down, I’m giving it some thought. Line dancing? Storm chasing? Civil War reenacting? Definitely not golf. I've never been golfing, and I'm not about to start. Nothing against the sport, but it doesn't seem like something that I could comfortably do wearing jeans. Plus, I'd probably I'd be one of those dipshits who throw their clubs in the water when they get frustrated. I think there's a name for "the water", but I've never been golfing.
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I GUESS MY BEST WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH
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I’ve written only one truly great song: An Open Letter to Lancelot Link, a track off my 2003 double CD of unused odds and ends, They Even Use the Hooves. The song is a paean to Lancelot Link and the other brave agents of A.P.E. (Agency to Prevent Evil), who acted as the last line of defense against the diabolical agents of C.H.U.M.P. (Criminal Headquarters for Underworld Master Plan). The agents of C.H.U.M.P. (Baron von Butcher, Dr. Strangemind, Dragon Woman, Wang Fu, Sheikh Ali Assa Seen, Creto, and Duchess) were a viperous crew. If not for the eternal vigilance of Lance and his faithful partner Mata Hairi, C.H.U.M.P. would certainly have prevailed, bringing about chaos and total societal collapse. Unless you've spent your life living under a rock, you're aware that Lance Link (brilliantly portrayed by Tonga the chimpanzee) was the title character of Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp, the 1970 live-action Saturday morning cartoon featuring chimpanzees with peanut butter smeared gums flapping their lips to overdubbed human voices. In 2001, it dawned on me that no song had yet been written to honor Lancelot Link. How could it be that a character beloved and revered the world over had yet to be celebrated in song? I immediately set to work to right this wrong. The words flowed freely. Emotions unfiltered, straight from heart to paper. For three days and nights, I scribbled furiously, with no thought of sustenance or sleep. At the end of those three days, I held in my hands what I was sure would be the song that I would hang my hat on, my pièce de résistance. The song that would finally generate sufficient royalties for me to buy a snowmobile. I headed into the studio immediately to put my lilting Irish tenor and prodigious piano skills to work. There wasn't a dry eye in the control room as I hammered at the keys and poured every ounce of my soul into the performance. But my magnum opus was met with silence by fans and critics alike. Devastating, soul-crushing silence. If a tribute to a 1970 Saturday morning cartoon that lasted one season and featured a cast of chimpanzees playing spies and evil villains couldn't propel my career to the highest heights, what could? I found myself at a crossroads: call it quits, or continue on knowing that my best would never be good enough to place me in the company of songwriting greats like Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Bruce Springsteen, and Orrin Hatch. I’ve continued on, but as a joyless shell of my former self. It's said that a career in the arts requires the soul of an angel and the hide of an elephant. I wish I had known this earlier, as I possess neither. In a sad attempt to salvage something from the heartbreak, I repurposed the music and melody for my song Seven Shades of Blue off my 2012 album, Roosters Crow.
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If you were to think of this newsletter as a TV program, this section would be the commercial. We hope you won't turn the channel. We hope you won't mute the volume. We hope you’ll give it the same close attention that you would a Budweiser Frog TV ad.
Weren’t those ads fantastic? So much fun! Yes, referencing a Budweiser Frog TV ad is an explicit acknowledgment that I have no fans under the age of 50. A QUICK RUNDOWN OF UPCOMING SHOWS: On Friday the 8th, the Hardways and I will be performing at the free Music in the Park Concert Series in beautiful Silver Bay, MN On Tuesday the 12th, the Gear Daddies will be making up our rained-out date at the Concert in the Commons series in Excelsior, MN (another free show!) On Friday the 15th, the guys and I will be playing our last official show of the summer at one of my favorite outdoor venues, Parley Lake Vineyard in Waconia, MN We'd sure love to see you one more time before the temperatures start to drop! Ticket links can be found below or by clicking on the SHOWS tab at MartinZellar.com. 8/8 MZ & Band at Music in the Park in Silver Bay, MN FREE SHOW! INFO/TICKETS 8/13 MZ & Band at the 318 Music Cafe in Excelsior, MN INFO/TICKETS 8/15 MZ & Band at Parley Lake Winery in Waconia. MN INFO/TICKETS 8/12 Gear Daddies at Concert in the Commons (RESCHEDULED) FREE SHOW! INFO/TICKETS Details and ticket links for the shows can also be found under the SHOWS tab at MartinZellar.com. INFO/TICKETS
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MY BRIEF CAREER IN USED CAR SALES
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This is a story of commerce. A tale of salesmanship and business acumen. A story, like most you'll find in my newsletters, that is likely not worth reading. This is the story of how I came to sell a rusty, broken-down VW camper van with deflated tires. In the mid-80s, I lived in a house in Minneapolis with Nic, Billy, and a couple of other fellow Austinites. It was located a couple of blocks down from the house pictured on the cover of the Replacements album, Let It Be. Actually, it looked a whole lot like that house. But so did half of the other houses within a mile of it. Many musicians lived in that neighborhood because the rents were affordable. At least if you had twice as many people living in them as the lease allowed. In general, we musicians didn't have a lot of money, and what little money we had was spent on beer and cigarettes. At the time this story took place, I didn't even have money for beer or cigarettes. I drank my roommate's beer and bummed their cigarettes. I also didn't have money for rent, and I would shortly be living in the Gear Daddies' practice space. The house didn't have a garage, but there was a parking space off the alley behind it. The space was occupied by a rusty, broken-down VW camper van with deflated tires. It was there when we moved in, and we never questioned why it was there or whose it was. A year or so after we had moved in, the city tagged the van to be towed. At that point, we decided to make a minimal effort to track down its owner. The landlord didn't know who the owner was, but as luck would have it, my brother knew a woman who lived in the house before us. She said it was her old roommate's van, but he had no interest in keeping it. She said that unless I wanted it, I should just let the city tow it away. I thought, what the hell, it’s free. The title was signed over to me, and just like that, I was the proud owner of a rusty, broken-down VW camper van with deflated tires. The pride of ownership didn't last long, as I quickly realized I had neither the money, skill, nor inclination to fix the van. And now I was possibly on the hook for a towing fee. I clearly hadn't thought this through. I didn't think a lot of things through back then. Luckily, one of my roommates wasn't a musician. He had his shit together. He was going to the U of M for engineering, and he just happened to have an assistant professor who restored old VW vans. My roommate called him up to ask if he might be interested in buying it. He said yes if the price was right. How much did I want for it? I had no idea what it was worth, but I knew I didn't want to pay a towing fee. After 10 seconds of careful consideration, I named my price: a case of Grain Belt and a carton of Camel Lights. I realized I might have set the price too low when he accepted my offer in less than two seconds. But a deal is a deal. I told him to get his ass over and tow it away before the city did. The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. I rose from the couch that we had hauled off a curb a week earlier to answer the door. A bottle of Grain Belt in one hand and a Camel Light dangling from my lips, I opened the door to greet a clean-cut middle-aged man wearing a suit and holding a case of Grain Belt and a carton of Camel Lights. "You must be the guy selling the van," he said. The End
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In this issue's edition of Meet a Friend, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Presley Haile. If you're not yet familiar with Presley, she's the young Texas singer-songwriter who joins me on the duet Better Off Apart and the song Boats Slowly Sinking off my last album, Head West. Presley is one of the very few artists who score a perfect 10 in every category that matters to me: voice, songwriting, musicianship, and character. I had two duet partners in mind as I was writing Better Off Apart, but as the process moved into the recording phase, those options (both of which would have been great) had to be scratched. Enter my friend Pat Manske. Pat is a drummer, producer, and engineer who co-owns the Zone Studio in Dripping Springs, TX. I worked with Pat on Roosters Crow, Head West, and a yet-to-be-announced project, and I'm sure I'll be working with him again in the future. It's hard to find a top-tier Texas singer-songwriter, band, or musician that Pat hasn't played with or recorded. His bar for what qualifies as a great musician is set very high. So when I called him and asked if he had a female vocalist he could recommend, and he answered without hesitation, "I sure do", that was enough for me. I booked the studio time. Pat put me in touch with Presley, and I sent her the tracks. She wrote back very sheepishly saying, "I love the song, but it's in a really bad key for me. Would it be possible to change it?". Changing the key required re-recording all of the guitar and bass tracks, as well as my guide vocals. I hesitated, but my faith in Pat's judgement tipped the scales. My son Wilson and I headed back into my studio and re-cut the necessary parts. I sent Presley the new tracks, and she replied with, "This is perfect! I promise to knock your socks off!" That kind of confidence from a 21-year-old was impressive. I flew to Austin a few weeks later to record her vocals. She arrived at the studio, introductions were made, and Presley headed into the live room. The second Presley opened her mouth, my jaw dropped. I looked to Pat with wide-eyed amazement, and he was looking back, nodding, with a "can you believe it?" smile on his face. True to her word, Presley knocked my socks off. Even as Presley was making her way through Better Off Apart, my mind was running through other songs I could use her on. I was already planning on adding a subtle backing vocal to Boats Slowly Sinking, so I quickly scribbled out the lyrics for her. Once again, the moment she started to sing, I was blown away. The "subtle" backing vocal I had planned kept getting pushed up in the mix until the volume almost matched mine. From that first meeting, I would have bet the farm that Presley would go on to great things. She recently signed with Columbia Records and is already out on the road opening for major artists. Her star is rising quickly, and I couldn't be happier. Or less surprised. Presley and her incredibly talented (and funny as hell) partner, Nick Brumley, have opened my October shows at the Parkway Theater for the past two years. I was thrilled and honored (and honestly surprised) when they said they’d love to join us again this year. Presley is a sweetheart, but I doubt her label or management will allow her to slum around with us much longer. There's a dictum in the music business that you want an opening act to be good, but not so good that they make you look bad. I throw this advice out the window when I have Presley open for me. Presley outshines me, period. I'm happy with the name I've made and the career I've built, but Presley is an artist of a caliber that you're lucky to cross paths with in a lifetime. You just have to bow down to her level of talent. And having her on the bill allows me to sit in the crowd as a fan to watch her set. And if it isn't yet clear, I'm a big fan of Presley Haile. Please do yourself a favor and give her fantastic new EP, Off to Find a Sunny Day, a listen. Tickets for our October 11 show at the Parkway Theater can be found here.
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Much has been made of my martini-soaked nights in Vegas with Frank and the fellas (and what ring-a-ding nights they were!). Still, they can hardly hold a candle to the 18-karat mayhem I experienced on the set of Cannonball Run. That cast was more star-studded than one of Frank's après-show soirées at the Sands! And did we make merry? Oh, baby! These fresh-faced Hollywood hipsters weren’t my usual crew, but they welcomed me like a brother. Of course, having Dino in the cast was a blessing. His pungent musk of English Leather, J&B, and stale cigarettes was a comforting presence on set. Dino and I would sometimes break out a little of our nightclub patter for the cast and crew, and baby let me tell ya, those cats went apey for it! And did I lay a little soft-shoe shuffle on ‘em? Did Jayne Mansfield have to sleep on her back? They don’t call me Mister Show Business for nothin’! Secrets are sacred amongst the cats and kitties in Tinseltown. What happens on set stays strictly hush-hush. But since it’s just you and me, I'll play it loose! Lean in close, and I’ll lay a little tittle-tattle on ya! Burt Reynolds: I've known some ladies' men in my day, but Burt was in a league of his own. He was suave and swarthy and gettin' more tail than a 747! And, oh baby, could that cat dance! After we’d wrap for the day, the crew would clear a table in the craft service area and Burt would hop right up and lay an eye-popping hornpipe on us. Talk about trippin' the light fantastic! Dom DeLuise: Lock the pantry, pussycat! I’ve never seen a man put away more pizza rolls! And I've broken bread with Marty Allen! But don't let that schlubby facade fool you, my man Dom was gettin’ more than a little “hey hey” himself! Farrah Fawcett: Wow-ee-wow wow! What a ripe tomato! Farrah was a sweet chick, and easy on the eyes, but she and Burt were scotch and rocks at the time, so it was strictly hands-off. But can’t a guy dream?! Roger Moore: Smooth as silk? You bet! But that cat was meshuggeneh! Ol’ 007 polished off a fifth of Chivas at the wrap party, then proceeded to stick his schmeckle in the spinach dip! Adrienne Barbeau: Oh, mama, what a set of charlies! And a helluva ping-pong player, to boot. Jack Elum: My goggle-eyed brother from a different mother! What a gasser! While playing strip whist on a shooting break, Jack and I had Terry Bradshaw and Mel Tillis down to their leopard-skin briefs. Aye yai yai! Made me wish I’d lost both of my peepers! Baby, let me tell ya, there are times, and there are times, and those were some times! Yowza!
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WHAT’S NEW AT MARTINZELLAR.COM?
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A reminder that we work hard to regularly add new content to MartinZellar.com. Since sending the last newsletter, we've added another Pulitzer-worthy blog post about a nightmare show and uploaded new photos to the photo album. You can watch a new lyric video for An Open Letter To Lancelot Link by clicking on the VIDEO tab. My poor wife spent six hours of her life putting it together. Precious hours that she'll never get back. Can you imagine having to listen to that song over and over again? I feel terrible. If you enjoy the video, please consider sending her some flowers. For my part, I spent an hour or so on the internet searching for Lance Link images. I considered that time well spent. You'll find a bunch of other videos there, as well. If you're so inclined, please hit the follow button for my YouTube channel. If you've missed earlier issues of the newsletter, you can find them in our recently added newsletter archive.
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PAST CONTEST WINNER & NEW CONTEST ANNOUNCEMENT
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The lucky winner of the coffee klatch with Randy and me is James H of Edina, MN. Congratulations James! We've already been in contact with James, and we're working on a mutually agreeable date for all involved. It will likely be a short meetup, as most folks can only take about 15 minutes of listening to Randy prattle on about his shot glass collection before they start looking at their watch. If the details can be arranged soon, we'll include a group photo, along with a detailed description of what everyone ordered, in the following newsletter. Moving on. This issue's contest prize will be a handwritten and signed page of whichever of my song lyrics you choose. Or, if you'd prefer, I'll write out and sign a page of someone else's lyrics. Are you an Al Jolson fan? If so, I will happily write out and sign the lyrics to Toot Toot Tootsie. A warning in advance that my handwriting is genuinely awful. And I mean REALLY awful. But if I were to try hard to keep it neat, it wouldn't be my handwriting. Good luck, everyone! Remember, you're already entered into the contest if you've signed up for the mailing list. If you're curious about our privacy policy or how we select contest winners, please check out my early blog post at MartinZellar.com, which explains both.
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I'll be honest, I've only included this word search to stretch the newsletter out. To do this puzzle, you would need to print it out. If you are seriously considering this, I would suggest watching old episodes of Green Acres online as a better use of your time. But if your heart is really set on doing it, here's the link to print it out.
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On the rare occasion that I'm having difficulty coming up with fresh and engaging content, I will lift an observation or story from Sammy Davis Jr. and claim it as my own.
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Photo/artwork credits: Skeleton MZ artwork: Billy Dankert Gear Daddies at Riversong Music Festival: Renee Broughten Martin, Presley Haile, Nick Brumley: Amanda Holm
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