Tag Archives: music

June 30, 1989

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35 years ago today, I was 15 and trying to make a movie.

I did that a lot between 13 and 15. And, as would become typical later in life, it was a reboot of something I’d already done. There was room for improvement!

I had three guys helping me. Two I’d known less than a year, the other only a few months if that. I honestly don’t remember when he and I first crossed paths, but I really think it was that summer.

Most importantly, he had a VHS video camera, and agreed to come help make this film.

And I was pissed.

We were making good progress at first. We even went by everyone’s house to pick up “special effects,” which included a green floodlight, a red flood light, and two different strobe lights.

As I was directing, trying to get effects set up and tested, someone started playing Guns N’ Roses. Paradise City. And then they fucked around, all three of them. Swinging the floods around, lip-synching into a flashlight, spinning the camera.

I have this on tape. You can see and hear how irritated I am. We are Making A Film, goddammit!

I wasn’t gonna win, though. So instead of throwing a fit, which was typical in those days, I gave up and joined in, thinking that maybe if I did that, they’d get their zoomies out and we could get back to work.

We never did get back to work. Instead we spend the next several hours making “videos,” meaning, lip-synching to songs and recording it all on the VHS. I did “Comfortably Numb.”

And then we made plans to do it again.

Other people heard about it and wanted to join in. This kicked off roughly a decade in total of this odd past-time, known as “Videos.” To an outsider, most of it is probably really weird or stupid. I won’t argue that.

But that outsider wasn’t there, being a rock star for a few minutes a couple times a year, expressing all the joy and rage and angst our sixteen to twenty-one year old selves could muster from bands like Metallica, REM, Genesis, Social Distortion, Pink Floyd, and dozens more. One of my best was “Hey You” from The Wall. I fucking rocked that video.

Jesus, it was so much fun. As we got older and got jobs, we started spending real money on this hobby. Which I guess is normal for any hobby.

Most importantly, 35 years ago today, while I may not have known it at the time, something got kicked off that would last all these years later.

Not unilaterally. Not evenly. (Both to my everlasting regret.) But still here.

Elements and ephemera from that day suffuse my writing to this day. In MERCY RULE, I even wrote an entire scene in which some kids are making Videos, and it’s secretly one of my all-time favorite beats in any of my novels.

The passion, the heightened emotion, the drama and angst…the loyalty…

I write young adult, I write horror, I write urban fantasy, sometimes I even write high fantasy or dabble in some genre. In all of it, those guys are there. That love is there. That hope is there.

That hope that those who read my work feel seen and heard, the way I felt seen and heard giving my best David Gilmour impression with a wooden guitar in hand and fake microphone taped to a PCV pipe “mic stand” performing for an audience of thousands in my living room.

35 years ago today, something special began. I know that not everyone had or has what I did and do. Whether or not you were given that gift, I hope my writing and the community around it can extend it now.

Everyone deserves and needs a June 30, 1989.

You’re Someone’s Rock Star

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An open letter to the little boy in the first row of the Phoenix Symphony who conducted his way through the Star Wars and Indiana Jones themes, remaining seated but waving his arms as if the orchestra were following his every move:

Don’t ever change.

The world’s going to try kicking you down if it hasn’t already. Honestly, it was all I could do to not leap up and join you at the balcony railing during the symphony’s tribute to John Williams this afternoon. I didn’t, but I should have. Don’t you ever stop. You keep going, little John Williams fan, and never let anything anyone says to you change who you are.

Your biggest fan, Tom

Open letter to the Phoenix Symphony:

First of all, your Star Wars show several months ago was amazing. We will be coming back next time with our son. Today, your John Williams tribute performance made me my wife wipe tears from her face. (Okay, maybe things got a little blurry for me during E.T. And Jurassic Park. And Jaws. And Raiders. And Close Encounters. But I digress…)

The real highlight, the thing that will forever mark the Phoenix Symphony as a state treasure, came after the show was over and most of the audience had cleared out:

The aforementioned little boy was approached by the first chair violinist (apologies, as I may be wrong about her title and instrument; I’m under-educated in all the titles and instruments in a symphony). In any case, she came to the lip of the stage and talked with that little boy for several minutes. She then went backstage and returned with conductor Stuart Chafetz, who did not hesitate to bring the kid onstage with them both. Several people gathered to take photos, including myself from up on the balcony. I believe we could see his smile from up there.

That was a class act, through and through. Neither of those musicians had to come back out and talk to that kid. But his joy during the music was apparent; he just threw those little hands around like a pro during The Imperial March and the Raiders of the Lost Ark encore. Even from our remote seats, it was clear that he, the conductor, the violinist, and the family were thrilled and delighted to have a moment together appreciating each other.

Thank you for a wonderful show, and a touching moment of humanity and grace. We will be returning to the symphony soon and will be gladly contributing to the organization.

Sincerely, Tom Leveen

Then there was the ride home, in which my always-brilliant wife pointed out that we are all someone’s rock star.

John Williams will never meet that little boy in the front row, and we might never know what impact today’s symphony had on him. But we all “geek out” over something, Joy said. Maybe it’s the music of John Williams, maybe it’s comic books, maybe it’s video games…or maybe it’s Larry Fitzgerald or Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson or Maya Angelou or who knows! There are so many people out there that we look up to, people who inspire us, and who ultimately keep the world moving and changing and growing by sharing their talent with us. They give rise to the next group of creators and thinkers and athletes who propel us toward the best humanity can be.

God knows we need a little of that, yeah?

Coming so soon after the close of a rough year for myself and my family, this short little moment in time in which a conductor came out to shake hands and say hi to a thoroughly delighted fan reminded me why I keep trying to publish books, why I got a little breathless when I first met Laurie Halse Anderson and Judy Blume and dozens of authors and actors and celebrities. They are my rock stars. And if I’m someone’s rock star, may I always come out and shake hands and say Hello and thank you for enjoying the show.

I’ve seen some great people at Phoenix ComiCon; Edward James Olmos, James Marsters, Ron Perlman, Cary Elwes, and Amber Benson top the list for sure. They were kind, or fun, or cool, or all three, and usually something more. Joy and I tried at these short meetings to emphasize how much their work has meant to us, and they took our thanks with poise and grace. That’s what real rock stars do. I hope I can be one like they are.

But I think Joy is right, we are all someone’s rock star. We don’t need to be a “public figure” to be one. Our two high school drama teachers that my friends and I love so dearly are our rock stars. So are several booksellers, several agents, several editors, several musicians, several doctors.

I don’t know the name of the woman who met that little boy at the edge of the stage this afternoon.

But I know she’s a rock star.

P.S. To whatever caregivers were responsible for this little boy? A+, friends. You are raising that kid right. And for that, you are rock stars, too.

“But we made a record, so what the f***.”

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“I wrote this song in history class. And I failed the motherfuckin’ class. …But we made a record, so, what the fuck.” ~ Mike Ness, lead singer/songwriter of Social Distortion, on the song “1945”

“As a society, we actually have not yet come around to the very sobering fact that getting a college degree, no matter the cost, is not necessarily worth it. […] Nobody has any more illusion that a company is going to do anything but look out for its best interest, and that its best interest can change on a dime.” ~ Alec Levenson, co-author, What Millennials Want From Work (read the entire article here.)

Honestly, the world could use more punks right now.

Honestly, the world could use more punks right now.

I’m a pretty big Social Distortion fan. Thing is, it’s not just the music in and of itself; it’s also what the music has become for me, as well as seeing how frontman Mike Ness has evolved as a person over the years. I love that he was destined for the gutter or prison — and spent time in both — but picked himself up and pulled a career together and became an icon for millions of fans around the world.

Now:

What do I tell my son when I play 1945 in the car for the first time, and he asks me, “So can I drop out of school and form a band?”

Answer: No!

Or rather: Maybe, but not while I’m paying your bills. (That’s pretty much my default on any request — do what you want as long as I’m not the one who’ll have to pay for the consequences.)

Because the dad part of me and the Tax Paying Citizen part of me is like, “For god’s sake, you have to have a high school diploma. A two-year degree is even better, and a four-year even better still.” Not necessarily for job purposes, though that’s a big part of it; but because the more you learn in general, the better off you’re going to be in life. That’s all. Generally, the more education you have, the less likely you are to end up in the gutter or prison. (Although, hey, if you’re rich enough, you can break any law and not really suffer for it. I think we’ve all learned that in this nation, yes? Wall Street, anyone?)

At the same time…I hear Ness’s gravelly voice speaking to me from two decades in the past, and the other part of me is like “Fuck yeah, son. Just go do it. You’ll never need to know the square root of jack shit anyway. If you know what you need to do in this world, then go do it.”

Not only that, but how are we Old Folks supposed to, in good conscience, expect our kids in this day and age to take on $40,000+ in debt with no actual promise of a living wage afterward? That’s no way to begin a life.

Because of who I am and who I am married to, our family will pretty much insist on some kind of secondary completion for my kid, whether that’s a GED or high school diploma. We’ll also be encouraging post-secondary education, based on what my son’s inclinations and needs are (and, ahem, how much we can afford, which I do happen to know the square root of: Again, the answer is jack shit.)

But if there’s some other thing…some burning, white-hot desire he has to go accomplish Thing X…I don’t know if I can get in the way of that.

Mike Ness failed history class, but he made a record, so what the fuck. He does what he loves, on his terms.

Probably we would negotiate some kind of middle ground with our kid. We do want what is best for our son, and what is best might not always be in line with what he wants. Fair enough. But honestly? If he’s as smart as he sure seems to be already, and continues reading as much and as well as he seems to be, I don’t think there’s much to worry about. I graduated in the dead center of my class not because I was too dumb to do better, but because I was too smart for my own good. Smart kids aren’t always getting straight A’s — some of them are working in auto shops or building new apps or making new music or writing an directing plays. I was smart enough to learn how to game the system and get what I want. I don’t advise it, I don’t encourage it…

But Book #8 comes out in 2017, so I must’ve done something right. I “made a book, so what the fuck.” I wrote a play in my directing class, and I failed the motherfucking class, but I wrote and directed a one-man show that launched a theatre company that lasted 13 seasons, so what the fuck.

So. My official position as an author of novels for young adults (mostly), is this: Finish high school. For god’s sake, at least do that much. Not having a diploma or its equivalent is just a bad way to start your life. I do tend to believe that an undergraduate degree is a good idea, but not to get into an absurd amount of debt for it.

And in the meantime…if during all of that there is something you just have to do…then yeah. Go do it. School’s not going anywhere. I finished my undergrad when I was 40. Do I wish I’d finished earlier? Yeah. A lot. But I took risks — calculated risks — and wrote novels instead. (On that note, ask me how many schools will hire me to teach writing. Hint: Zero. Why? No degree. There’s always a trade-off.)

So yes, for my kid, I absolutely insist on finishing secondary education, and am 75% in favor of finishing a post-secondary/undergrad education. But man, if that metaphorical phone rings and your band gets a chance to tour, or your painting gets shown at a good gallery, or an agent wants to see more of your novel, or . . . whatever . . . then do it.

Make your record.

(Here’s a look at how Social D transformed over the years compared to when 1945 first came out.)

 

Punk’s Not Dead! Neither are you.

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What do you want to say?

What do you want to say?

Hey punk!

We need you.

The world needs you. Now more than ever.

Punk rock became notorious for a number of reasons, some legitimate, some not. But there was an ethos, an ethic that went with the style, or was supposed to, anyway. Like any movement—and I’d call it that, not a trend—it eventually became co-opted and whitewashed and dimmed to a memory of what it started off trying to do. Mohawks barely register on anyone’s radar any more (at least in my part of the country). Colored hair? You pay big bucks for that now. Doc Martens? Available everywhere. (For good reason. Those suckers go and go and go.) Piercings in various cringe-worthy places? These are born, in my opinion, from the movement of punk rock.

Then it died, or so went the story. I’d argue it never did, it just evolved. It shrank, to be sure, as the kids grew up and had kids of their own. Some former punks, no doubt, went on to prosperous careers in the banking or real estate industries. (Many became teachers. Let that sit for a second.) Others stuck to blue-collar roots. But that’s not unique to punk, that’s just life. Life happens. It’s the old joke about everyone is a Democrat until they own property. Ha ha. I get it.

Thing is . . .

Whatever may have been wrong with punk as a social movement, and these were mostly the acts of a few random outliers, not the entire band of punks themselves, they were pissed.

Punk grew from a dissatisfaction with the status quo. Stop me if any of these things sound familiar to you kids:

~ they opposed racism, institutionalized and social
~ they opposed fiscal policies that made rich people richer and poor people poorer
~ they didn’t want the comfy house in the suburbs insulated from the rest of the world
~ they wanted to shout and dance and slam around and take out their aggressions among friends
~ and they wanted to play loud music while they did it.

Maybe that’s romantic of me, but I’d point to voices like Youth Brigade and the Better Youth Organization as evidence that this was so.

Punk also had a DIY ethic second-to-none. They didn’t have money, so they did what they could with what they had. They used art—visual art, music, video, you name it—to get messages across to an also-angry American public who had no idea that they reason they were so angry was their perfect, square white world was teetering beneath them.

Again . . . sound familiar to anyone?

One thing the punks didn’t have was the internet, this thing that makes DIY the norm for everyone. The web leveled the field in ways that large corporations are still trying to recover from. Those of you who grew up with high speed may not fully appreciate the seismic shift the web caused and continues to cause.

So my question to you is: What do you want to do with it?

We need the punks back again. We need you, the better youth, to dig deep and protest those things that you know are unfair. Use your voice, your music, your art, your images—anything and everything you’ve got, because you know—YOU KNOW—the world is headed into hell right now.

Once again, the establishment that put us all into this mess is teetering on the brink. Just a couple more (nonviolent) pushes in the right direction, and we’ll have this thing beat. We might not all get along, and that’s okay; surely we can at least stop shooting each other and start taking care of the damn planet. Surely we can make schools a great place to learn about the world. We can find new ways to solve old problems like racism and sexism and all those other isms that keep giving this country and this world bruises and blood and funerals.

The voice of punk can do that unlike any other force.

This is perfect time to have a renaissance of punk. Its do-it-yourself outrage, its focus on equality and justice, about calling power into question…the world is primed for young people to stand up, stand out, and name things the way only young people can. Little kids instinctively know when to say, “That’s a bad choice!” As teens, younger people still have that sense of justice but now have the agency (and energy, and online resources) to act upon it. There’s no better way to take action than through music. Music is nonviolent. Music binds us together across generations.

Kids, if you’re pissed off and have always wanted to start a band–or a blog, or a site, or a movement, or a company–now’s a good time. Punk’s not dead unless we let it be. A lot of the old guys are still out there touring and making records. They’ve got kids your age.

So. You carry in your pocket a computer that could’ve sent people to the moon. What do you want to do with it? If you’ve got an instrument, start a band and post that. Write lyrics that matter deeply to you and to the world. Paint, draw, sculpt. Talk, scream, protest. Design, build, dance.

Do all these things for an earth that desperately needs your passion and enthusiasm.

Bring back punk. Do it yourself. Save us from ourselves. We need a voice—no, a million voices. How many of you are there, do you think? Find each other. Organize. Make change.

MOSH!

“Here comes the new generation
I hope they feel and fight the same way
As we did.
We’re going down, down to the streets below
Because don’t you know
I wasn’t born to follow.”
~ I Wasn’t Born To Follow, Social Distortion

image credits:
FreeImages.com/Orsi Buki
FreeImages.com/Carolien Baudoin

What Metallica Teaches Me

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Turn the page.

Turn the page.

So I’m watching this James Hetfield video, him at Guitar Center jamming a bit and talking about his early career with Metallica. About half way through, he starts playing this riff, and I think, “Could I ever learn to play that? I’ve got a Fender Strat electric and a Gibson Epiphone acoustic electric, surely I could learn to play that.”

Yes. I could. Gimme a year and practice every day, I could learn to play that riff.

But it would never be natural. It would never be second nature.

So here’s the hard truth: Writing fiction is pretty much the same way.

BUT.

It all depends on what you want out of it and what you expect out of it.

Jame Hetfield apparently worked at “a sticker factory.” Which somehow fits, I don’t know why. He might’ve ended up staying there, maybe becoming a sticker factory manager someday. (After all, someone has to be the sticker factory manager. There ought to be pride in that. There ought to be pride in every job, but our nation currently doesn’t really support that – but I digress.) Maybe old James would’ve quit and gone on to study music in college, and become a professor someplace. But he didn’t. He went on to become Metallica. Meh tal ih KAH!

But he’d still be playing guitar. I’d bet anything on it.

James Hetfield plays guitar because James Hetfield can’t not play guitar.

I write novels because I can’t not write novels.

What is it you cannot not do? That’s the thing you should be doing. You might still have to work at the sticker factory or become a professor to fund whatever it is. (I know this because it’s what I’m in the process of doing – preparing to get paid for something other than writing novels. I probably won’t work at the sticker factory, though.)

There is a world of difference – and generally, years of difference – between “I wanna be a rock star” and doing the work it takes to get there. As in music, are there flashes of wild success in fiction? Yes. Whether these authors are “good” or not is a matter of opinion, of course, just as tastes vary wildly with music preferences. But both musicians and novelists, like any artists, can also hit a nerve in a community at a right place and time.

Most of them, however, work their butts off to get there. And then double the effort once they’ve “arrived.” That’s the secret. That’s the trick. There isn’t another.

The reality is, I may never be a New York Times bestseller. Not for lack of trying or hoping. I may never keynote at ALA, again not for lack of trying or hoping.

But I keep thinking about these musicians I know, who make crap money gigging around the world, country, or neighborhood, and can’t imagine doing anything else. They cobble together a living, maybe with some teaching on the side or as a studio back-up. They’re doing what they want to do.

There is a price for that lifestyle, of course. Only you can determine if that price is worth paying. (If you can marry rich, go for it.) (Mostly kidding, folks.*) There’s health insurance and car insurance and retirement to think about (if you have a car). Rent or mortgage. Hey, ever pay for pre-school? That’ll shock ya. Oh, and food and clothing.

Among other things.

So what are you willing to give up to do that thing you can’t not do? What path can you forge to do that thing for a little or a lot of money?

Hope is not a business plan. Luck is not the foundation of a life-long career.

Figure out what you want, then make a plan to go get it. Take yourself out for a nice long chat sometime and really ponder this thing you want to do. If you can see yourself doing anything else, you should probably go do that thing instead.

But if THIS thing—whatever it is, be it music, writing, poetry, cooking, gardening, becoming a SEAL, whatever—if this thing you cannot breathe without . . . then figure out how you’re gonna get there.

Because you can.

That’s all. Love ya.

~ Tom

 

*Oft told story: Joy and I were at a dinner with friends of her family. Someone asked us what we wanted to do as careers. We both answered truthfully. The guy laughed and said, “An artist and a social worker. You’re gonna be rolling in cash, huh?” 

Well…maybe someday. But no, prolly not. 🙂

Things To Do While Still In High School #1 – Own the Angst

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While everyone else was out drinking, getting high, or, you know, going on dates with actual girls, I was doing this, with apologies in advance to any Depeche Mode fans:

Can you feel the angst? It drips from the ceiling. The story behind this video is not the point (it’s a good story, maybe for later). The point is, you should do this.

I don’t necessarily mean making an angst-ridden video, although I know that happens a lot on YouTube and elsewhere. (Here, I was going to post an example YouTube video, but I got too depressed reading the comments people were leaving. The shit people feel free to say online drives me insane, hence my novel RANDOM, which is inspired by real events and by events you probably have experienced yourself, statistically speaking.)

The reality is adolescent brains are cooking on overtime. You probably know that much. That’s not an excuse to do stupid or dangerous things. Don’t drink and drive, for example. Don’t get pregnant or get anyone pregnant (just trust me on that one, okay? You’ll be glad later if you dodge that).

But while I’m a huge proponent of #stayhere and not doing things your body or mind can’t recover from, I also believe you should be yourself, and experience everything there is to experience right now. Angst is good.  It can be harmful, but it can also be a lot of fun. It’s like, on the one hand, people are always telling you to grow up, and that’s fair; this is your origin story. The decisions you make today will reverb down through the rest of your life. They will. I promise, they will. Good and bad ones, they’ll stick with you. So make good ones.

But on the other hand, don’t grow up too fast, either. See, the other side of this “grow up” mentality that most so-called grown-ups won’t tell you is that this is when you should fail. You should reach for the sky and get knocked down. It’s so much better to do that now than in your twenties, and better in your twenties than your thirties, and so on. (We’ll talk about your twenties some other time. That’s a whole other mess.)

I’m not saying to be irresponsible. On the contrary, you should be exceptionally responsible, because that’ll pay off later. But go up and ask that guy that out! Ask that girl out! Go on adventures. Stay up till the sun rises once in a while. Confide your secrets. Give your heart to someone, and then survive when he or she tosses it casually into a woodchipper. Which he or she will inevitably do.

And when everything goes wrong, make an angsty music video.

Then go dance, sing, lip-synch, whatever. This is your time. Own it. Yes, be careful…but own it all the same. Life will settle down soon enough. Sooner than you can imagine. Don’t rush for it.

Maybe I’m telling you stuff you already know, in which case—good! I’m glad you’re out there kicking metaphorical ass and having a great time.

But if you didn’t know this, if you didn’t realize that this was your time to both shine and suffer, then I encourage you to try both. I’m not advising you this because I regret not doing it myself—I’m advising you this way because I did. We lived up every second of high school, good and bad, diving deep into whatever the moment brought. I got hurt. I hurt others. I regret the second one, but not the first.

I don’t write YA because I didn’t have a great time; I write YA because I did. And I want you to. All of you. All of us.

Anyway. Sermon over. Have a great weekend, huh?

And, P.S. Just in case any friends want to leave snarky comments, remember – I have your videos too. Don’t push me, man. Don’t push me.

 Take care, stay here, say words.

~ Tom