An Amazing Animator

Over the last many years (almost 2 decades actually… time is flying by) I’ve been connected in one way or the other to kids entertainment. Children’s music and kids video primarily, having sold, marketed, packaged, funded or helped in development.

I still troll about online looking for new and emerging entertainment products and keep a special eye out for unique or innovative filmmakers, animators, story tellers and other creative types. As a quick aside, check out http://www.crackle.com/ for some interesting new online shows. I have to admit my favorite is “The Roadents,” a series of animated shorts about two guinea pigs traveling cross-country in a 1983 Winnebago.

Back to the post. Last week I came across a very interesting and exciting animator out of Spain, Carlos Lascano. He uses 2D and 3D hybrid animations, live-action content and other techniques to create a surreal environment that pulls you into a new reality. The emotion he evokes with his drawings and without a word of dialogue is impressive also. I hope you enjoy these four projects I’ve embedded from his site.

Dreams And Realities

Last week I had lunch with Matt- a nice young gent full of dreams. He is an aspiring illustrator/writer/animator that is in a life and death struggle with his dreams and his reality.

He is working for a good company and making a good living to support his young wife and new child. Like many people, he is also wrestling with a dream, or maybe an aching feeling- not quite yet crystallized and clear- that he was made to do something else. He wanted to meet to bounce his ideas, sketches and stories off me to see if I thought he had anything of value buried in the dirt and rocks of what his hands and mind had created.

He let me choose the place to meet for lunch, but I insisted he pick wherever he wanted to go. God bless him- he chose Pei Wei Asian Diner. Extra-Extra Spicy Kung Pao Chicken over salad was my choice (here in Nashville, you have to say EXTRA twice to really get a decent burn going- most Asian places that serve food to an abundance of middle-Tennessee white folks think you mean ‘just a tiny bit past mild’ if you only use one).

We chatted away while eating, and about half-way through our food, the portfolio came out and we got down to business. He slid across several scripts, drawings and concepts talking me through his ideas. As he got into the details of each story and character, he started to light up. I love to be around passionate people. Creators. Dreamers. The energy and sparks fuel me and push and prod me to stir up my own dreams.

He was now fired up, moving at full speed, practically spitting steamed rice at me as he described several ideas for television shows, online comic strips, animated video series and a kids book.

I held all my thoughts, observations and questions until he was finished, making sure he knew that was what I would do for fear he would think I was disengaged. I know from experience it’s best to let creatives mind-dump without interruption. They need to pour out an amazing number of words to make sure you taste the full flavor of what they are trying to communicate. After my comments and questions, I laid out what I thought he should do next with the ideas. I am not sure he will take my advice.

I remember several years ago a young lady that worked for the same company I did. She was one of our regular receptionists that were in charge of getting executives lunches or setting up food and drink for meetings when not on desk duty. After a year or so of saying ‘hello’ or ‘have a nice weekend’ when walking in or out of the front door, I decided to get to know her. She had moved to Nashville because one of her dreams was to become a singer. The other dream was to be an actress. Singing won out, so she was taking her shot working as a receptionist for one of the top music companies in the world hoping to get discovered somehow.

After a couple years, with nothing materializing, she decided to move to LA. Just up and move there- no family or friends to support her. She had a dream, a clear vision and a plan, and by God, she was going to do it.

I last saw her three years ago while in Los Angeles on business. I had a meeting at a major studio and on my way out to my car afterwards, I ran into her, totally unexpected, in the lobby of the building. I hadn’t spoken to her since she had moved to LA and didn’t know what she was up to. She was living her dream. Her current position wasn’t much beyond her former receptionist title, but outside of the office she was an actress. She had managed to get an agent, a series of head-shots, and had landed several spots as an extra on various television shows (including Friends). She was having fun, making progress, and could see light at the end of the long office hallway.

So the question I have is- will Matt take the plunge? Will he really chase his dreams? He is between a rock and a hard place, with a wife and child to support (THE PRIORITY), currently employed with a good income and benefits (COMFORT), but leaving no time to really pursue his dreams and hone his craft (RISK AND REWARD).

That is the challenge. That is the battle we are all in- unless you happen to have landed your dream. It is an epic battle between that what we must do, and that which we dream to do.






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Lame Claim To Fame

It is said most people have some connection to fame. It may be 15 minutes worth personally gained through some event or achievement, or it could be a friend or relative that makes it big in Hollywood or Billboard.

Mine is lame. I went to Gaithersburg High School in Gaithersburg MD from 1982-1984. I remember sitting in algebra class and meeting my next desk neighbor Doug. While getting to know him I learned he played guitar in a band that had neither a name, a sound, or any experience playing in front of anyone. I was in.

I told Doug I played keyboard and guitar (I didn’t include that I played them very poorly), and he invited me to hang with the guys. Later that week they invited me to join the band- they were fascinated that I could play a few chords while looking anywhere except the keyboard. Over the next few months we practiced several times a week getting to a point where we could play in front of people without driving them out of the room. We named ourselves Entranzit. I have no recollection why.

After almost a year of playing at house parties, Knights of Columbus halls and other sundry venues, we got our “big break.” We entered a battle-of-the-bands that pitted us against the fave band from rival Seneca Valley High School- “M.I.A..” We slaughtered them. They were horrible, and the only thing they did that was interesting was take an old acoustic guitar and smash it to bits on the gym floor at the end of their set.

That was pretty cool.

Fast-forward 10 years- Entranzit was long-gone, and I had just recently moved to Nashville with my family. On one fall night I was taking out the garbage when my wife ran outside excited and called me in the house. “Mark and Dean are on TV!” she said. My response was, “who?”

I went inside, saw that she was watching VH-1’s Artist of the Month, and the show was going on about a band I had never heard- Hootie and the Blowfish. There on the screen was Mark (guitar), Dean (bass) and a couple guys they must have met in college to complete the new manifestation of M.I.A..

That was even cooler.







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Great Night

As I write this it is just after midnight and I arrived home about ten minutes ago. This will be a brief post, and a shameless plug for a band I manage named the koo.

Tonight the guys played their third show in as many nights, and did a killer job playing a full 45min set at The Pond. The venue is a hole in the wall bar in Franklin, TN, but the place was packed out- SRO.

I have heard them play live many times, but tonight was the best set I have ever heard from them.

You can check out their website and hear three of their tracks here: http://myspace.com/thekoo

So far, they have had over 23,000 plays of their music from the site, plus a bunch more off their Purevolume.com page. You can also check out some pictures of the band from a recent show here:
http://public.fotki.com/cscottphoto/shows/thekoo/

The only remarkable event of the evening besides the great show was when one girl sitting at my table was so into “Assbeater” (the last song of the koo’s set) that she knocked her drink into her lap. I got her napkins.

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You Eat What You Kill

In October my wife and I took our daughter K to Rome for her 13th birthday. To many this may seem extreme- including my wife. A friend of mine told me about how he and his wife gave each of their 2 daughters THE birthday gift at 13 instead of 16 or 18. The reasoning? I can’t recall really- but I remember thinking it was very logical.

Our ground rules for our 4 girls are simple:

1. For your 13th birthday you can ask for anything in the world you want

2. We can not borrow any money for the gift

3. We must be able to afford it (this is the best one- a sliding scale that can be adjusted in any year, with any daughter, because of our dictatorial powers. Unfair, I know, but Michelle and I are relatively benevolent dictators)

While K opted for a trip to Rome, L our 11 year old is laying the legal groundwork for her claim on a horse. I am considering an amendment to add a 4th line item requiring the gift to not incur any long-term or continuing costs.

The trip was wonderful (at the time of this writing, there are some snapshots on this page). Throughout our time in Italy I noticed an abundance of street performers. There was the “drunk” passed out by the wall of the Pantheon completely dressed and painted in grey to match the street and gate. If anyone dropped a coin in his box, he stirred and looked around, took a drink, and promptly passed out again. There were mimes, dancers, and balloon artists. One of the few musicians we saw was a man at Piazza Navona that was playing guitar left-handed with the strings still strung for a right handed player. I have been around many guitar players in my life, some of them left handed, but I have never, ever seen anyone able to do this.

The statue-still Statues of Liberty were aplenty, as were the Pharaohs. These are two of a special genre of street performers whose sole talent is to stand perfectly still on a soap box, and bow when someone gives them money.

One such Pharaoh, wrapped completely in a shiny gold sheet and wearing an expressionless gold metal mask, was doing an excellent job staying completely still and staring straight ahead. Until a 3 or 4 year old, unwatched by his mother, decided that whatever was in the can on the ground in front of Pharaoh must be interesting.

The young boy approached the loot, squatted in front of it, and was smart enough to shoot a glance at both his mom and Pharaoh to ensure they weren’t watching him. The boy made his move, reaching his hand inside the tall can. Pharaoh was not happy. He broke character, and started to watch the boy with wide eyes (its surprising easily to read emotion in the eyes, even when someone has a mask on- especially if you know that person knows he is getting robbed).

I jumped in to help. In a firm and gruff voice I told the boy “NO.” His arm sprung back, and his smile disappeared. He was caught. My Pharaoh was pleased. The boy made 3 more attempts, each ending with his retreat after my barks. Not once did his mother see what happened until she led him away. As they walked by, passing Pharaohs riches, the boy failed at one more half-hearted attempt at the money.

Street performers are pretty good examples of the old hunting maxim- now adopted by consultants and lawyers- You Eat What You Kill. While many people work for distant gains (saving for retirement, long-term investing, major projects at work that could create an end-of-term bonus, etc), these folks are working hard to get lunch money in the next 10 seconds.

As I ponder my next career move, I have met with a few folks that encouraged me to start my own business- and this maxim- you only eat what you kill- has been repeated to me by 3 people. It is both scary and exciting, and I look forward (I keep telling myself) to see what happens in the coming months.

Open Mic Night

Last night the nearby elementary school held an open mic night to raise funds- inviting all kids, K-8, to get up on stage and show off their talents. Ticket price- $2 for adults, $1 for kids. No sweat.

My 8 year old daughter decided she wanted in. She played a short piece on the keyboard. My two oldest, despite their strong vocal and piano abilities decided against performing for fear of looking stupid in front of their friends.

That was a tip-off to a trend that became evident as the show began. Here is the rundown on the evening’s entertainment:

• About 60 people showed up. Not a bad audience size, but at the ticket price charged I doubt we will be getting any new Apple’s for the computer lab.
• First up- an 8yr old boy played drums while his dad played guitar, then his 5 year old sister sang the ever popular “Hit The Road Jack” hitting all the notes square on the head.
• Next on stage was a 9 year old boy bravely singing a song while looking like he was going to puke.
• Loved the next performer- an adorable 5 year old girl. She tried to sing the song “Jesus Take The Wheel” but, bless her heart, she forgot the words after about 5 seconds, and left the stage looking very sad while the music played on until the soundman awkwardly hit the stop button. Ouch.
• V was next on the bill. A very confident and silk-shirted 9 year old girl sang a pop song- the title of which I couldn’t quite figure out. She finished, received appropriate applause, and the MC came up to thank her and introduce the next performer. Just then, she pulled a note out of her pocket, handed it to MC, and after a second or two of confused looks by him and the soundman, she jumped into her second song- “Don't it Make My Brown Eyes Blue.” After that, she announced she would sing another song- “Jesus Take The Wheel.” The audience was stunned as she turned open mic night into her own concert. The little 5 year old that attempted the same song earlier was not amused.
• A 10 year old girl played “Yesterday” on the electric guitar after only a few months of lessons (she did great). Only bad moment there was when a 4 year old boy in the audience loudly asked his mom if the 10 year old was a boy. She was quickly followed by a trio of 8 year olds singing Aly & AJ’s rendition of “Do You Believe In Magic.” Fortunately, you could hear Aly & AJ’s vocals.
• My girl A was up next. She sat at the keyboard and opened up her piano book- but had no where to set it. The MC helped by placing a music stand in front of her, perfectly blocking her face from every single person in the audience. Very funny. She did a good job and played the part with few mistakes.
• Fave performance of the night was next. Two 5th grade girls, with one iPod between them, stuck one earbud each in their ears, and proceeded to sing an Al Yankovic parody song. No one but them could hear the music. Very, very funny. Especially during the instrumental parts.
• The night was capped off by the only middle school kids of the night. 5 friends that got up and sang the Veggietales theme song. Their performance was worthy of a Saturday Night Live sketch.
  

What I noticed about the night was that all the performers (except for the last group of kids) were 10 years old or under. Something happens to us right about 10-11 years of age. We become very self-aware, self-conscious, and afraid of looking like a dork. I love the wonder and fearlessness of many younger kids. They inspire me, and amaze me at some of the things they do and say. Something to be learned there.






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Promise Me You Will Never Grow Up

My heart hurt yesterday. While I do have a few extra pounds on me (well…more than a few), and I don’t exercise as much as I should, I assure you it wasn’t that kind of pain. It was more of a heart-ache. I have “lost” some people in my life and it hit me hard last night.

K, my oldest, performed in her school musical. She had a great part- a few solos, good dialogue, and an overall stellar performance. The other kids in the show did an awesome job as well. It was one of the best middle-school musicals I have ever seen (granted- this was only the second). There was one particular part in the musical that impacted me far deeper than I expected. K walked out on stage to start off a scene and it hit me hard. “Who is that woman?” She’s not my little girl, that’s for sure. She looked like she went from 13 years old to 18 in a matter of minutes.

While one half of my brain continued to pay attention to the show, the other half started diving deep into thoughts and memories. Where are my little girls? I remember K and L holding onto my neck as I walked around with them, each with their feet firmly planted in my hands. I remember them crawling into my lap and hugging on me, asking me questions, kissing all over me. I looked to my left and saw L and my two little ones, A & R, and sure enough…they looked older too. It’s as if some magical dust was sprinkled by the witch in the musical that made my girls age several years at about 7:30PM last night.

I think what might have contributed to all of this was a recent decision to convert all of our old High8 video tapes to DVD. I dropped them off at Wolf Camera, and within a couple of days, we had amazing DVDs of all our family movies. They even create a couple music video’s out of several scenes. The last month or so we have been watching them, and the kids are fascinated at who they used to be. Me too.

I unconditionally love my four girls, just as they are now, and am excited to see who they become. That does not take away, however, the longing I have for who they were 5 or 10 years ago. Those kids are gone forever.

Before I had kids, I remember people telling me that I will not truly understand love until I do. Romantic love is just one part of love- to have children, to love your neighbor, and to love God completes the circle. After Michelle and I had our first, we got it. Really got it. But no one told us about the pain that goes along with having children. Well- maybe during child-birth Michelle figured that part out.

For me, the pain started soon after the love. That pain becomes most evident when your child gets physically hurt, or sick, or loses a favorite toy, forgets something at a restaurant or theatre- and breaks into tears, weeping and gnashing of teeth that is worthy of an academy award. The hard ones are when a friend betrays them, or a mean kid at school hurts them with words. It is shocking how personal their pain becomes. How it feels like the pain is completely my own. It makes me love and appreciate my parents even more.

These next few years are more critical than ever. I want to be there for my oldest two as they become women, to support, encourage and challenge them to continue to grow in grace, to love God and others, and to make right decisions. I also want to have a fresh heart and mind with my two youngest- to do the same things with them I did with my oldest. Man, this is hard.

Report From The Traffic Chopper

Have you ever watched someone perform or present something to a group, and everything go horribly wrong? Perhaps they were extremely nervous and speaking almost nonsense, or they tripped walking on stage, or even were just plain not-good at it. Something like a bad wreck on the side of the road happens. And the audience is the rubber-necker.

At the Curb Café last night I saw the koo perform a set after a young aspiring songwriter/guitarist/vocalist did an unnecessarily long opening spot. If you have happened to read my posts the last two days, let me stop here and assure you I don’t normally go to multiple clubs and live music performances in a week. Or even a month. This week has definitely not been normal.

The opening act (Nick was his name, I think) had a bunch of spirit. He strutted boldly and confidently from table to table in the small club introducing himself to patrons and mentioning his name and that he would be performing soon, and thanking us for coming out. I must admit- in all my years of attending live music performances that was a first.

He started to play at 9PM. Just him, his guitar, and 2 bottles of water. Immediately, a 3 car pile-up happened on stage. God bless him- he couldn’t hit any high notes (he actually sounded just like me and a million other guys singing in the shower with a luffa for a mic wailing out the high notes in off-key falsetto), flubbed his chords, and on a two occasions even put a song in a holding pattern mid-chorus while he tried to tune his guitar.

He seemed to think he was nailing it. Very confident on stage, trying to conduct witty between-song stage banter, and eliciting nervous laughter and wide-eyed glances between friends at tables. It was just plain awful. But he tried, and he seems like a genuinely nice guy.

I don’t know what his goals are, or why he was performing last night. Maybe he just loves to play the guitar and belt out a tune, and for the same reason millions of people around the world go to karaoke bars, really enjoys inflicting his talent on others.

Let’s assume though, that he wants to make it in music. At what point will he either practice and play himself silly and hit a level of quality, or finally figure out that he isn’t that good? Will he realize it himself, or will someone, like a merciless panel of judges from American Idol, whack the machete of “feedback” right through his skull?

On the way home I turned on the radio…interesting…in a matter of minutes I heard two bands (actually one band, and one solo artist) perform that I know very well, and also know couldn’t sing a good lick just a few years ago. For various reasons both had been thrust into a position of leadership within their respective units, and had to pick up the reigns of lead vocalist from a departing member. Within a relatively short period of time, and after diving headfirst into the work of vocal training and development, both have emerged as quality vocalist each with their own unique sound, and both leading the way to multiple gold records.

So…is that within each of us? I am not speaking about music specifically- it could be anything. Can anyone grab hold of a dream, and even if performance or track record is just average (or in Nick’s case, bad), drive themselves to greatness with good coaching and a real commitment of time? How does this impact Nick? Should his friends, several of which were at the show last night and rooting for their buddy, not let him know how bad he sounds right now but just encourage him? How does this impact me? Or you? What dreams have we put on hold, or dropped, that should be picked up again?

I think the potential for greatness is in everyone. I truly believe that anyone- any ordinary person- can do extraordinary things. I hope Nick keeps at it. I also hope he keeps his day job.