Sunday, November 23, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Gearing up for Musical Hanukkah Celebration Year 3
It only took ole Chelle here two years to figure it out, but when there's a message taped to her phone, waitin' for her in the morning, and when that message don't say nothin' but "Be at your phone at seven, your time, Wednesday," it means one thing and one thing only.
Time to talk up this year's Musical Hanukkah Celebration over in Riverview.
Yeah, yeah. I know. We don't live nowhere near Riverview. We be two time zones over and at least a thousand miles away. So what's Chelle doin' talkin' this thing up?
You boys and girls who're regulars know the answer to that. The Musical Hanukkah Celebration is the baby of the one and only ShapeShifter. And that means fat ole Chelle gets the skinny from the luscious Mitchell Voss himself. He's probably the only man who could tell Chelle when to get herself by a telephone. He's worth it every time.
Except, luscious Mitchell Voss… he ain't the best with the hellos. Know what Chelle hears when she answers the phone? "We've got our best charity yet for this thing."
No Hello? Where's the How Ya Doing, Chelle?
"It's the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation. Stable. Been around awhile. Famous 'cause of some movie I never saw. And we're moving into the Rocket Theater this time, too," Mr. Luscious said. "It's bigger. The stage is bigger and it holds more people. The backstage area's nicer, too, so we can have a few more guest stars. We're pulling out the stops this year. And wait until you see the t-shirt. We're making more of those, too. People want to buy 'em online and help support the cause. Since it's such a good cause, we're all for that."
There you go, boys and girls. We get t-shirts this year if we ain't gonna make the trek to Riverview. And why would we? We got us some great weather this time of year. Gettin' on an airplane might cost so much, you gotta sell your favorite band t-shirt on eBay, and that's before you get to the airport and they call for a cavity search. No, boys and girls. Let's stay put. There's a great local scene here y'all should be explorin'. Chelle's got a rundown of who to go see later on this week.
That don't mean you shouldn't buy those t-shirts when word gets out that you can. Any donation's sure to make those little kids happy and grateful. It's all about bringin' music to the kids, remember that. A kid who plays the flute now might turn out to be tomorrow's Mitchell Voss. We ain't gonna know until that kid gets the chance to make some precious music.
For now, you heard it here and you heard it first: ShapeShifter's Musical Hanukkah Celebration. Gettin' bigger, getting' better and with t-shirts for all, not just the folk who make it inside. Gotta love that. Chelle sure does.
If you're new around here, this whole Musical Hanukkah Celebration thing has got to seem as though it's from left field. Click here to read the beginnings.
While the characters in this piece aren't real, the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation is. Profits on the upcoming t-shirts and The Demo Tapes will go toward this great effort to keep our kids musical. There will be more details and hoopla to come, I promise. And a lot more fiction, too, building up to this fun event.
You may ask why I'm blurring the line between real life and fiction like this. The answer's easy: Today's clarinet player might be tomorrow's million-selling lead singer. Every child all deserves that dream.
Time to talk up this year's Musical Hanukkah Celebration over in Riverview.
Yeah, yeah. I know. We don't live nowhere near Riverview. We be two time zones over and at least a thousand miles away. So what's Chelle doin' talkin' this thing up?
You boys and girls who're regulars know the answer to that. The Musical Hanukkah Celebration is the baby of the one and only ShapeShifter. And that means fat ole Chelle gets the skinny from the luscious Mitchell Voss himself. He's probably the only man who could tell Chelle when to get herself by a telephone. He's worth it every time.
Except, luscious Mitchell Voss… he ain't the best with the hellos. Know what Chelle hears when she answers the phone? "We've got our best charity yet for this thing."
No Hello? Where's the How Ya Doing, Chelle?
"It's the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation. Stable. Been around awhile. Famous 'cause of some movie I never saw. And we're moving into the Rocket Theater this time, too," Mr. Luscious said. "It's bigger. The stage is bigger and it holds more people. The backstage area's nicer, too, so we can have a few more guest stars. We're pulling out the stops this year. And wait until you see the t-shirt. We're making more of those, too. People want to buy 'em online and help support the cause. Since it's such a good cause, we're all for that."
There you go, boys and girls. We get t-shirts this year if we ain't gonna make the trek to Riverview. And why would we? We got us some great weather this time of year. Gettin' on an airplane might cost so much, you gotta sell your favorite band t-shirt on eBay, and that's before you get to the airport and they call for a cavity search. No, boys and girls. Let's stay put. There's a great local scene here y'all should be explorin'. Chelle's got a rundown of who to go see later on this week.
That don't mean you shouldn't buy those t-shirts when word gets out that you can. Any donation's sure to make those little kids happy and grateful. It's all about bringin' music to the kids, remember that. A kid who plays the flute now might turn out to be tomorrow's Mitchell Voss. We ain't gonna know until that kid gets the chance to make some precious music.
For now, you heard it here and you heard it first: ShapeShifter's Musical Hanukkah Celebration. Gettin' bigger, getting' better and with t-shirts for all, not just the folk who make it inside. Gotta love that. Chelle sure does.
If you're new around here, this whole Musical Hanukkah Celebration thing has got to seem as though it's from left field. Click here to read the beginnings.
While the characters in this piece aren't real, the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation is. Profits on the upcoming t-shirts and The Demo Tapes will go toward this great effort to keep our kids musical. There will be more details and hoopla to come, I promise. And a lot more fiction, too, building up to this fun event.
You may ask why I'm blurring the line between real life and fiction like this. The answer's easy: Today's clarinet player might be tomorrow's million-selling lead singer. Every child all deserves that dream.
Labels: charity, Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Mitchell Voss, Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation, Musical Hanukkah Celebration, Sunday Scribblings
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Behold Me
Now, if you know Chelle LaFleur like you supposed to know Chelle LaFleur, you know all too well what sort of ShapeShifter fan I am. I am sayin' right here and now that I could go head to head with any other ShapeShifter fan out there and beat 'em when it comes to trivia. And that any other fan bit? It includes their own Mommas and Poppas. Maybe even the boys, themselves.
So I don't know what local townie Bradley thinks he's doin'. Oh, no, not the gettin' married part. That's the part that makes sense. So do all the wedding plans, with the flowers and the cake and fire hall and the decorations and all that.
Where it all falls apart is where he looks at me and says, "Hey, Chelle, what do you think about us using Behold Me as our first dance song?"
Okay, now. No one's exactly lining up to marry ol' Chelle's fat self here, so maybe I'm a little bit out of touch with what's hot in the world of weddin's these days. Maybe I am. I'll say that up front. But last time I checked, you was supposed to pick a slow song, something that gives a man and a woman reason to snuggle up in each others' arms while everyone watches and coos about how cute you are. Behold Me is no slow song. So Bradley, what's your plan, boy? You and your beautiful bride gonna hold hands and lead the head banging? You really think Great-Grandma's gonna get what you two be doin'? Won't she fall out of her wheelchair if she tries to follow along?
Now, Chelle here sees another problem entirely with this plan of Bradley's. And that problem's the meanin' of the song. Behold Me isn't some sappy plea from the outcast high school girl who wants to get herself noticed by the quarterback. Oh, no, sir-ree. Behold Me's about more substantial stuff.
Just to make sure Chelle was hearin' things right, I went right to the source. My main man, Mitchell Voss.
Now, you all know about Mitchell Voss. They call him a dragon, and for good reason. So Chelle here wasn't exactly expectin' to hear laughter when she told Voss what was up.
"They want to what?" he asked and nope, there weren't no laughin' going on. At least, I don't think that noise was laughin'. Count me in that group who thinks that boy don't know how to laugh.
I told that handsome man I was callin' him to see if the song's about what I'm thinkin' it's about. And like I said, ol' Chelle may be fat and slow, but no one knows ShapeShifter better.
"Behold Me is a song about a homeless guy who wants to be noticed and seen. Maybe helped," Voss said. "There's nothing romantic about it. I mean, s---, this is ShapeShifter we're talking about. We don't do romance.
"On the other hand," he said, "more power to this couple if the song holds that much meaning for them. Maybe one of them was homeless. Who knows? It's not the song I'd pick and no, Chelle, don't ask. I'm not telling you a damn thing about my life."
Boys and girls, lemme tell you somethin'. When Mitchell Voss married that pretty little artist of his, do you know who the first media person he called was? Do you know how many dreams of Chelle LaFleur's got trashed with that phone call to that first rock reporter? And that boy thinks he ain't gonna tell me a "damn thing" about his life?
Seems that Bradley's pulling a Mitchell Voss on me, too. Chelle picked up the phone and tracked that boy down, but if he knows why he and his lady picked Behold Me for their first dance, he ain't sayin'. Whatever.
You heard it first and you heard it here, right outta the horse's lips. Behold Me's a song about homeless people, not the adorin' gaze of lust.
Once again this week, I had a million ideas when I saw this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: wedding. I thought of letting Pam dream about her wedding to Mitchell. Lyric was going to put together special wedding baskets in the store. I even played with ideas for Roadie Poet and Deadly Metal Hatchet.
In the end this won. Hope you like.
For more Chelle, use this link.
For more Mitchell, use this link.
For more ShapeShifter, use this link.
So I don't know what local townie Bradley thinks he's doin'. Oh, no, not the gettin' married part. That's the part that makes sense. So do all the wedding plans, with the flowers and the cake and fire hall and the decorations and all that.
Where it all falls apart is where he looks at me and says, "Hey, Chelle, what do you think about us using Behold Me as our first dance song?"
Okay, now. No one's exactly lining up to marry ol' Chelle's fat self here, so maybe I'm a little bit out of touch with what's hot in the world of weddin's these days. Maybe I am. I'll say that up front. But last time I checked, you was supposed to pick a slow song, something that gives a man and a woman reason to snuggle up in each others' arms while everyone watches and coos about how cute you are. Behold Me is no slow song. So Bradley, what's your plan, boy? You and your beautiful bride gonna hold hands and lead the head banging? You really think Great-Grandma's gonna get what you two be doin'? Won't she fall out of her wheelchair if she tries to follow along?
Now, Chelle here sees another problem entirely with this plan of Bradley's. And that problem's the meanin' of the song. Behold Me isn't some sappy plea from the outcast high school girl who wants to get herself noticed by the quarterback. Oh, no, sir-ree. Behold Me's about more substantial stuff.
Just to make sure Chelle was hearin' things right, I went right to the source. My main man, Mitchell Voss.
Now, you all know about Mitchell Voss. They call him a dragon, and for good reason. So Chelle here wasn't exactly expectin' to hear laughter when she told Voss what was up.
"They want to what?" he asked and nope, there weren't no laughin' going on. At least, I don't think that noise was laughin'. Count me in that group who thinks that boy don't know how to laugh.
I told that handsome man I was callin' him to see if the song's about what I'm thinkin' it's about. And like I said, ol' Chelle may be fat and slow, but no one knows ShapeShifter better.
"Behold Me is a song about a homeless guy who wants to be noticed and seen. Maybe helped," Voss said. "There's nothing romantic about it. I mean, s---, this is ShapeShifter we're talking about. We don't do romance.
"On the other hand," he said, "more power to this couple if the song holds that much meaning for them. Maybe one of them was homeless. Who knows? It's not the song I'd pick and no, Chelle, don't ask. I'm not telling you a damn thing about my life."
Boys and girls, lemme tell you somethin'. When Mitchell Voss married that pretty little artist of his, do you know who the first media person he called was? Do you know how many dreams of Chelle LaFleur's got trashed with that phone call to that first rock reporter? And that boy thinks he ain't gonna tell me a "damn thing" about his life?
Seems that Bradley's pulling a Mitchell Voss on me, too. Chelle picked up the phone and tracked that boy down, but if he knows why he and his lady picked Behold Me for their first dance, he ain't sayin'. Whatever.
You heard it first and you heard it here, right outta the horse's lips. Behold Me's a song about homeless people, not the adorin' gaze of lust.
Once again this week, I had a million ideas when I saw this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: wedding. I thought of letting Pam dream about her wedding to Mitchell. Lyric was going to put together special wedding baskets in the store. I even played with ideas for Roadie Poet and Deadly Metal Hatchet.
In the end this won. Hope you like.
For more Chelle, use this link.
For more Mitchell, use this link.
For more ShapeShifter, use this link.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Sunday Scribblings
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Deadlines
Lots of you come up to me and try to keep me from leavin' shows when I got to. I try to be nice and all, but boys and girls, Chelle's got a deadline here. If she don't hit that deadline over at The Trumpet, her review don't make the paper. Capiche? And since the whole reason Chelle's got a job is to review bands for The Trumpet, if she don't make her deadlines, she don't get a paycheck.
You heard it first and you heard it here: Let Chelle make like Cinderella and get to the paper on time.
Another attempt at Velvet Verbosity's 100 word challenge! This one wrote itself, but I still like the first one better. If you've never met Chelle before, click on her name and check out her bio page, which includes links to more of her journalistic endeavors.
You heard it first and you heard it here: Let Chelle make like Cinderella and get to the paper on time.
Another attempt at Velvet Verbosity's 100 word challenge! This one wrote itself, but I still like the first one better. If you've never met Chelle before, click on her name and check out her bio page, which includes links to more of her journalistic endeavors.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Velvet Verbosity
Monday, April 07, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Photographs
How many of you faithful readers remember that day when Chelle was waxin' poetic about how we all flip CDs over to read the track listing on back, even though the track listing don't mean doo doo until you hear them songs?
Here's another puzzle for you to spend some free time thinkin' about. And that's the pictures of the band. You ever stop and look at them? I mean really look, not just notice what band's t-shirt they wearing or whose hair is longer than yours, or if the chick is hot or not.
Chelle LaFleur looks for more than that stuff. Every time she sits down to review a new disc, she takes out that booklet and leafs through it. She reads them liner notes -- and she knows who's smart enough to thank her in 'em, too. She reads the lyrics, and you betcha, she studies them pictures. You can sometimes get a lot outta those pictures. When you gotta write a review of that music blarin' outta your speakers, you gotta do more than say whether or not it's good. You gotta say why. And you gotta sound smart, too. No easy feat when you're Chelle LaFleur.
Let me share a secret with you since I'm in a good mood and all. Lookin' at those musicians, boys and girls, helps a music writer figure out what to say. And to sound smart doin' it, maybe even smart enough to get a bonus from the bosses 'cause your quotes get picked up all over the place and you be giving the paper a good name.
Try it at home. The picture staring, that is. Go on, you be Chelle for a few. Just don't go on expecting to be like me and see them words you's about to write in this here Trumpet, you hear? That gig's reserved for yours truly. You, you're just tryin' things out. You on a mission to find out how right old Chelle is.
Sit and stare at that picture as you listen up. Really stare. Can you figure out what that band's tryin' to tell you? They for real, or is there some poseur action happenin'? You wanna hang with them? Even if they ain't what you'd listen to every day until the laser wears a hole in the disc, are they any good? And you gotta answer why or why not for all these questions Chelle's throwin' at you.
What's with this music you be hearin'? Can you figure it out? That picture helps, don't it. You get it all sudden-like. It goes into new dimensions.
You peeps in bands out there, you think about that picture you busy dreamin' of and posin' for when you're home alone, just you and your mirror. What you tryin' to tell us out here, safe in our cars and our bedrooms and blarin' in our earbuds? Use that picture of you and talk to us. It don't all have to come outta the speakers.
You heard it first and you heard it here. Pictures really are worth a million words.
Ahh, the Poetry Train. Hop aboard!
Here's another puzzle for you to spend some free time thinkin' about. And that's the pictures of the band. You ever stop and look at them? I mean really look, not just notice what band's t-shirt they wearing or whose hair is longer than yours, or if the chick is hot or not.
Chelle LaFleur looks for more than that stuff. Every time she sits down to review a new disc, she takes out that booklet and leafs through it. She reads them liner notes -- and she knows who's smart enough to thank her in 'em, too. She reads the lyrics, and you betcha, she studies them pictures. You can sometimes get a lot outta those pictures. When you gotta write a review of that music blarin' outta your speakers, you gotta do more than say whether or not it's good. You gotta say why. And you gotta sound smart, too. No easy feat when you're Chelle LaFleur.
Let me share a secret with you since I'm in a good mood and all. Lookin' at those musicians, boys and girls, helps a music writer figure out what to say. And to sound smart doin' it, maybe even smart enough to get a bonus from the bosses 'cause your quotes get picked up all over the place and you be giving the paper a good name.
Try it at home. The picture staring, that is. Go on, you be Chelle for a few. Just don't go on expecting to be like me and see them words you's about to write in this here Trumpet, you hear? That gig's reserved for yours truly. You, you're just tryin' things out. You on a mission to find out how right old Chelle is.
Sit and stare at that picture as you listen up. Really stare. Can you figure out what that band's tryin' to tell you? They for real, or is there some poseur action happenin'? You wanna hang with them? Even if they ain't what you'd listen to every day until the laser wears a hole in the disc, are they any good? And you gotta answer why or why not for all these questions Chelle's throwin' at you.
What's with this music you be hearin'? Can you figure it out? That picture helps, don't it. You get it all sudden-like. It goes into new dimensions.
You peeps in bands out there, you think about that picture you busy dreamin' of and posin' for when you're home alone, just you and your mirror. What you tryin' to tell us out here, safe in our cars and our bedrooms and blarin' in our earbuds? Use that picture of you and talk to us. It don't all have to come outta the speakers.
You heard it first and you heard it here. Pictures really are worth a million words.
Ahh, the Poetry Train. Hop aboard!
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Tuning Down
Now, I don't get what all the howlin' and cryin's about. Seems legendary singer Sammy Spencer is reuiniting with the last two living original members of Scarred Heart. That ought to be good news and we all oughta be celebrating this. Scarred Heart was, for you too young to know your roots as proper as you should, one of the bands that brought the words Heavy Metal into our world. They took Johnny B. Good and taught him how to bang his head.
Scarred Heart's die-hard fans been yowlin' for a reunion for years now. Chelle here been one of 'em 'cause she never got to see them live the first time out, and that's one of those things that's gotta get fixed so Chelle can die a happy woman. News of the reunion was met with a big cheer here at the Trumpet's office, and around the world, too. It was a heck of a sound; I'm surprised you missed it. Cows in heat don't often walk around New Orleans, you know what Chelle's sayin' here?
Now comes word that fans are threatening to boycott. Seems that Sammy Spencer can't reach those high notes that make Chelle's kinky hair stand on end. Seems that in thirty years, Sammy Spencer had the good fortune to grow himself up. For men, that means their voices get lower and they can't get up to those high notes no more.
Oh, sure there are a few who can. But Chelle wants to know if they can do it outside of a recording studio and with the taped voice track turned off. If so, she wants to see what they got in their pants. It's either nothing 'cause they've been snipped so their voices stay high, or else there've got something making them mighty uncomfortable…
None of those options fit the Scarred Heart style. Remember, boys and girls, this was the band that was all about keepin' it real back before keeping it real was a trendy thing. This was the band who made us all sit up and realize that not everyone kept it real.
That means there won't be vocal tracks piped in over Sammy's real voice. That Sammy's not going to hurt himself to bring us his famous high notes.
What it means is that the band's changing the tuning of their songs, so that Sammy can sing 'em the best way he can. 'Cause we all know: Scarred Heart's gotta keep it real.
Keepin' it real is what you so-called fans are now having hissy fits over. Seems you'd rather have fake music in the name of it bein' like the albums you probably never replaced once vinyl went out of fashion. You don't want to know that your hero's gettin' old and can't hit those high notes. You want it fake.
You peeps are spoiled. Let Scarred Heart tune it down. Let 'em show us that they can still rock with the best of them. And quit your bitchin'. Save it for the next time ShapeShifter's resident hottie Mitchell Voss refuses to take his shirt off during a show. Now that, that is a thing to whine about.
You heard it first, and you heard it here: Let Sammy sing it the best he can. He'll still rock your socks off.
Why aren't you riding the Poetry Train?
Scarred Heart's die-hard fans been yowlin' for a reunion for years now. Chelle here been one of 'em 'cause she never got to see them live the first time out, and that's one of those things that's gotta get fixed so Chelle can die a happy woman. News of the reunion was met with a big cheer here at the Trumpet's office, and around the world, too. It was a heck of a sound; I'm surprised you missed it. Cows in heat don't often walk around New Orleans, you know what Chelle's sayin' here?
Now comes word that fans are threatening to boycott. Seems that Sammy Spencer can't reach those high notes that make Chelle's kinky hair stand on end. Seems that in thirty years, Sammy Spencer had the good fortune to grow himself up. For men, that means their voices get lower and they can't get up to those high notes no more.
Oh, sure there are a few who can. But Chelle wants to know if they can do it outside of a recording studio and with the taped voice track turned off. If so, she wants to see what they got in their pants. It's either nothing 'cause they've been snipped so their voices stay high, or else there've got something making them mighty uncomfortable…
None of those options fit the Scarred Heart style. Remember, boys and girls, this was the band that was all about keepin' it real back before keeping it real was a trendy thing. This was the band who made us all sit up and realize that not everyone kept it real.
That means there won't be vocal tracks piped in over Sammy's real voice. That Sammy's not going to hurt himself to bring us his famous high notes.
What it means is that the band's changing the tuning of their songs, so that Sammy can sing 'em the best way he can. 'Cause we all know: Scarred Heart's gotta keep it real.
Keepin' it real is what you so-called fans are now having hissy fits over. Seems you'd rather have fake music in the name of it bein' like the albums you probably never replaced once vinyl went out of fashion. You don't want to know that your hero's gettin' old and can't hit those high notes. You want it fake.
You peeps are spoiled. Let Scarred Heart tune it down. Let 'em show us that they can still rock with the best of them. And quit your bitchin'. Save it for the next time ShapeShifter's resident hottie Mitchell Voss refuses to take his shirt off during a show. Now that, that is a thing to whine about.
You heard it first, and you heard it here: Let Sammy sing it the best he can. He'll still rock your socks off.
Why aren't you riding the Poetry Train?
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Poetry Train
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Thursday Thirteen #68 -- Bands Abound
Good thing I finished this early this week; the week's sports news (scroll down) has me bummed out.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Go check them out, or come back and check them out. Let me know if there's anyone you want to see more of around these parts; you may have noticed lately that I'm itching to expand the world, get into some new things. Since I aim to please (although I believe that if I please everyone, I'm not being honest somewhere along the line), if you continue to inspire me the way you have in the past, I'll strive to bring you bigger and better all the time.
 |
1. ShapeShifter, obviously. And admit it, you're a ShapeShifter fan even though you don't like heavy metal. 2. Deadly Metal Hatchet. The fledglings around here. They suck, but they're fun and sometimes, you need fun. 3. Walter Cicewski. He's one of those guitar guru-types whose backing band is a revolving door. Many of his backing musicians go on to huge musical careers, thanks to what Walter taught them. He's never had huge success, but it's been huge enough for him. 4. Hammerhead. You'll meet them when you get to read Trevor's Song. You'll never forget them. If you can find the few passing mentions of them on this blog, more power to you. 5. Tech Support. The ShapeShifter roadies got together during a band hiatus and decided to make some music. 6. Carrion. I haven't done much with them yet, but stay tuned. They have a part in a current WIP. 7. Bitterness. Same thing. 8. Temple of the Book. If you're too rushed to read the whole blog about them, here's what Chelle has to say: They're not all acoustic, they don't wear ponytails and the only glasses were the ones they were drinking their beer out of. And they rock. Hard. Geoffrey, the guitarist, might be able to out head-bang some of you regulars, and that's no joking on Chelle's part. 9. The Gathering Rising. I created The Gathering Rising in response to literary agent Nathan Bransford's blog about the many books he'd been seeing queries for that involved those two words in their title. I asked Nathan what kind of music he liked to listen to, and created this band in his honor. I think his tates lean too literary for him to represent me well, so this wasn't a kiss-up on my part. It was just something fun to do. 10. Nerdvana. I created them around the same time as The Gathering Rising. 11. Vanessa Kontempt. You guys haven't met her yet and I'm not sure when you will. She's a girl from Riverview, the only band on this list to be from there other than ShapeShifter (which is funny, given what a musical mecca Riverview becomes). Cross Britney with Courtney Love, throw in some Susan magic, and you've got Vanessa. The woman's a disaster. 12. Jim Shields. A guy sort of like Ozzy. ShapeShifter was touring with him (and his latest backing band) when Mitchell's hair turned green. (You mean you missed Green Hair Week? The shame!) 13. Jock La Feet. Another New Orleans band; Chelle's review of them was her first appearance here on the blog. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Go check them out, or come back and check them out. Let me know if there's anyone you want to see more of around these parts; you may have noticed lately that I'm itching to expand the world, get into some new things. Since I aim to please (although I believe that if I please everyone, I'm not being honest somewhere along the line), if you continue to inspire me the way you have in the past, I'll strive to bring you bigger and better all the time.
Labels: bands, Chelle LaFleur, meme, Thursday Thirteen
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- ShapeShifter fans
Now, you may not have heard this here first, but you're hearing the truth here first. That counts for a lot in Chelle's book.
I just got off the phone with my favorite rocker, Mitchell Voss, and this is what he had to say:
For some reason, we couldn't take the bus from the hotel to the arena, so the promoter sent a limo for us. It should have been a twenty-minute drive. An hour later, our tour manager gets out of the limo and walks up the side of the road to see what's going on.
Turns out, a car broke down. They can't even move it off to the shoulder, it's the middle of rush hour. Traffic's a disaster. Our tour manager comes back to the limo and says the car's driven by three girls on their way to … you guessed it. Our show.
Trevor, Daniel, and Eric aren't stupid. They're also lonely. Or, they were.
That's right, girls and boys. Those ShapeShifter boys smelled opportunity and they didn't let anything stop them. Those girls with that broken-down car got the star treatment on their way to the show. They got to watch the show from the special VIP section with Mitchel's wife, the most amazing Kerri Voss, and they got to be the after-show party, as well.
Chelle here knows how many of us dream of this happenin' to us, even you guys out there. Like any good music reporter, I tried to find those girls and get their take on the night, but that handsome Voss man wasn't coughing up any names.
So girls, if you're out there and reading this, drop me a line, will ya? You just went and lived yourselves a dream and the rest of us, we want to know all about it.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. ShapeShifter loves their fans.
I just got off the phone with my favorite rocker, Mitchell Voss, and this is what he had to say:
For some reason, we couldn't take the bus from the hotel to the arena, so the promoter sent a limo for us. It should have been a twenty-minute drive. An hour later, our tour manager gets out of the limo and walks up the side of the road to see what's going on.
Turns out, a car broke down. They can't even move it off to the shoulder, it's the middle of rush hour. Traffic's a disaster. Our tour manager comes back to the limo and says the car's driven by three girls on their way to … you guessed it. Our show.
Trevor, Daniel, and Eric aren't stupid. They're also lonely. Or, they were.
That's right, girls and boys. Those ShapeShifter boys smelled opportunity and they didn't let anything stop them. Those girls with that broken-down car got the star treatment on their way to the show. They got to watch the show from the special VIP section with Mitchel's wife, the most amazing Kerri Voss, and they got to be the after-show party, as well.
Chelle here knows how many of us dream of this happenin' to us, even you guys out there. Like any good music reporter, I tried to find those girls and get their take on the night, but that handsome Voss man wasn't coughing up any names.
So girls, if you're out there and reading this, drop me a line, will ya? You just went and lived yourselves a dream and the rest of us, we want to know all about it.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. ShapeShifter loves their fans.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, fiction, Mitchell, Poetry Train, ShapeShifter, touring
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Tech Support
So while ShapeShifter's busy takin' some time to themselves, not that they should or anything, it seems their techs went and got all antsy on us. Just like a lot of us ShapeShifter fans do when there's nothing new to report.
Instead of sitting around and moaning about how they can't wait until the band is active again, Bobby, Cookie, Creek, and Chuck decided to make some noise of their own.
That's right. These four brave souls who put up with my ShapeShifter boys night in and night out have decided to form their own band. They called themselves Tech Support, which is a clever enough name if you don't know what they do and the ways in which techs really do support the men they work for. The women, too.
So this new Tech Support band's busy playin' all the spots around Riverview. Never more than a day's drive away, just in case their bosses need 'em for something. You know: fix a string, tune something, tighten a drum head. Doesn't sound hard. But yours truly guesses that once you get used to the prima donna treatment, there's no going back.
Not that Chelle's calling those ShapeShifter boys prima donnas.
Well, okay, she is.
She'd love to do it in person, too. Face-to-face and all that. After all, how's a rock writer supposed to write about rock if she don't get a chance to listen to it?
That means that any of you who're thinkin' of takin' your pretty little selves out to Riverview to check out Tech Support live and in person, check with me before you jump in your rental car. Chelle here don't drive. She needs a lift to the gigs. And you can be there to watch what happens when she calls the ShapeShifter boys prima donnas to their faces.
I bet those Tech Support boys will laugh the whole time they're agreein' with me.
What? You STILL haven't joined the Monday Poetry Train? No rules, people, no rules! (or is that the problem?? Hmmm? Also, scroll down a post for a new thing I'd love to see the world join me in: Sunday Best. You decide what's best and talk about it on Sundays. How easy is that?
Instead of sitting around and moaning about how they can't wait until the band is active again, Bobby, Cookie, Creek, and Chuck decided to make some noise of their own.
That's right. These four brave souls who put up with my ShapeShifter boys night in and night out have decided to form their own band. They called themselves Tech Support, which is a clever enough name if you don't know what they do and the ways in which techs really do support the men they work for. The women, too.
So this new Tech Support band's busy playin' all the spots around Riverview. Never more than a day's drive away, just in case their bosses need 'em for something. You know: fix a string, tune something, tighten a drum head. Doesn't sound hard. But yours truly guesses that once you get used to the prima donna treatment, there's no going back.
Not that Chelle's calling those ShapeShifter boys prima donnas.
Well, okay, she is.
She'd love to do it in person, too. Face-to-face and all that. After all, how's a rock writer supposed to write about rock if she don't get a chance to listen to it?
That means that any of you who're thinkin' of takin' your pretty little selves out to Riverview to check out Tech Support live and in person, check with me before you jump in your rental car. Chelle here don't drive. She needs a lift to the gigs. And you can be there to watch what happens when she calls the ShapeShifter boys prima donnas to their faces.
I bet those Tech Support boys will laugh the whole time they're agreein' with me.
What? You STILL haven't joined the Monday Poetry Train? No rules, people, no rules! (or is that the problem?? Hmmm? Also, scroll down a post for a new thing I'd love to see the world join me in: Sunday Best. You decide what's best and talk about it on Sundays. How easy is that?
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, musicians, Poetry Train, Riverview USA
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #55 -- Thanks for the Disaster!
Let's face it. Part of what makes Thanksgiving so much fun is seeing what sort of memories you'll leave the table with. Our friends in Riverview (and music reporter Chelle LaFleur) have had some memorable meals.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
If you're not sure who Mitchell is, be sure to follow the link in the first mention of his name. That'll take you to his bio page, and from there, you'll see a list of outtakes and Thirteens about him.
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1. There was the year when Mitchell and Trevor were 20 and they stumbled in to dinner, late, Trevor stoned and Mitchell drunk and stoned, and decided that turkey flambe was the main course. Sonya, who was about to put the cooked bird on the table when this happened, wasn't amused. 2. The first year that Chelle was living alone, she decided that the best way to celebrate her independence was to make Thanksgiving herself. Not sure how to cook, let alone roast a turkey, she microwaved it. For an hour. What she was left with resembled the shrunken heads she'd seen her elderly relatives use for voodoo ceremonies. Those creepy elderly relatives were all too glad to see her when she showed up for dinner. 3. One year, Pam accepted the invitation of some vegetarian friends for a Tofurkey dinner. She made sure they served fish the next time she ate with them. 4. Inspired by Mitchell and Trevor's lame attempt at flame, Val decided to try it herself. The apricot brandy glaze was a success. The flambe wasn't. The bananas foster that was an alternative to the pumpkin pie was. 5. When he was a teenager, Eric and his brothers had a pumpkin pie eating contest. Problem was, their mother had baked the pies for a church dinner. They learned fast how to bake a good pumpkin pie. 6. Amy called it a disaster the year Mitchell was allowed to carve the bird for the first time. Until he did, Amy had visions of herself becoming a surgeon. After Mitchell sliced that baby perfectly, she knew surgery wasn't going to be her thing. 7. Eric's family is still traumatized from the year the TV broke and the football game was tied, with two minutes left and the home team set to score. The ball was intercepted, the visitors won the game -- and Eric's family missed it. 8. The year Patterson was called away from the table for work. He didn't come home until after the kids were in bed. 9. The year Eric's dad decided to invite the entire congregation to a Turkey Bowl -- and broke his leg on the first play. The Turkey Bowl turned into an annual event for about ten years. The broken leg became legend. 10. The year Hank came home in time for dinner, upended the entire contents of dinner into Jenny's lap, and turned Trevor into a punching bag. Yeah. That'd be a disaster. Trevor couldn't eat solid food for a few days after that one. This is not the only time Trevor had loose teeth around Thanksgiving, poor guy. (here is the reference to the other time) 11. The second year Chelle tried to cook. Instead of making voodoo turkey breasts, she set the oven on fire. Thankfully, she was quick-witted enough to put it out before it spread and destroyed her apartment -- or worse. This was the last time Chelle tried to cook. Anything. 12. Then there was the year the band was on the road. This was before the days of nice hotels. No one was terribly surprised when they came down with food poisoning. 13. Lastly was a disaster only in Val's eyes. She made a wonderful feast for the band. And I do mean feast. They ate it all, somehow -- and ruined her night by having another of their burping fests at the table. The boys, of course, thought it was the best Thanksgiving ever. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
If you're not sure who Mitchell is, be sure to follow the link in the first mention of his name. That'll take you to his bio page, and from there, you'll see a list of outtakes and Thirteens about him.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Eric, meme, Mitchell, Pam, ShapeShifter, Thanksgiving, Thursday Thirteen, Trevor, Val
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Byline Chelle LaFleur: The Heroin Diaries
Now, listen up, folks. Chelle here don't often step outside her fictional world and into Susan's, but today, she's just got to. What Susan saw the other day just burned us both up too much for me to keep quiet. And since we all know that when Chelle talks, people listen, she let me have the floor for this one.
You see, Susan stopped in at the Borders on McKnightmare -- she swears that's the street name but ol' Chelle's got her suspicions -- to pick up Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries already. Good thing she got the chance; she's only been reminding the Tour Manager to go and do it for her the past five weeks or so. Good thing that Tour Manager don't get paid for his gig, or he'd be out on his hiney.
Back to the book 'cause this is what it's all about. Mind you, that there book's been on the Best-seller list since it came out, back in October. You'd think a best-selling book would be near the front of the store, right? On them best-seller racks?
Nope. Susan had to ask for help finding the book. Stuffed away -- I gotta say it was face out on the shelf -- in the music section.
Now, I ask you. Is that where you'd go look for a book about a drug addict? Hidden away on a shelf, not in plain sight? And what about this so-called soundtrack to the book? Where's it at?
People, people, people. I don't care how big a jerk Nikki Sixx might be -- I hear he's not, but even if he was -- he deserves better than this. Susan's not even a hundred pages in and already, she's over at her own computer, typing away on a post about it. She's gotta rave. She's ready to make them kids she calls The Opening Act read it, even though they're way too young to get more than "Drugs are bad" outta it. This book's got power. This book oughta be required readin' in schools 'cept all them biddies who scared of their shadows would have a fit at the idea that Nikki Sixx is a bigger nudist than my good friend Mitchell Voss. But still, this is beside the point.
This is actually all about the marketin' of this fine creation. 'Cause let Chelle tell you, them marketers missed a hell of an opportunity to blow the roof off the way things get done.
First off, how many other books have come out with their own soundtrack? Where's the push to sell the book and the music together? The music biz is so busy whining about how nobody's carin' enough to buy a CD, but here's a chance to change that. Instead of makin' someone pay full price for the music while you give 'em 20% off on the book, how about a package deal? Throw in a coupon for a free t-shirt while you're at it. But for goodness gracious, you marketin' wanna-be geniuses, don't leave it up to rock writers like me to tell you how to do your jobs! You just might wake up and find that you're outta your job and it's now mine. Just 'cause I can do it better'n you don't mean I want it. I like what I do.
And how many studies have we been seein' lately about how people ain't buyin' books no more? I ain't gonna go through the whole song and dance again, boys and girls. Go read the paragraph before this one. You might need the reminder already. This is where I mention that Nikki's said he's giving part of his bucks to charity, too. Hello? Raising money for a good cause? Why aren't you with me, people?
Here was a chance for y'all to work together. Music and books, just like in Susan's vision, comin' together in this whole package where they make each other better even though the one can get along just fine without the other. Best of all, a lot of music people, they don't read much. Same goes for a lot of book people -- they don't listen to a lot of music. Cross those folk over, show 'em a new way, people!
Here was a chance for y'all to sit up and smell a new day. And you blew it. Hidin' a best-seller in the music section. Not offerin' a package deal on the music and book together.
No wonder book sales are down and Susan and Rob Zombie are the only ones buyin' CDs anymore. You people in charge, you just don't get it. This was as plain on the noses on your faces, but God forbid you look in the mirrors.
Marketing people. Is this the sort of garbage they teach you in college? Then Chelle's damn glad she didn't waste her time.
Note from Susan: While I fully understand that those front displays are all paid placements and that the issue in my not finding the book was because someone at Pocket Books didn't pony up the cash, maybe what Chelle and I ought to point out is that, with minimal publicity, this book sits at #16 on the November 18 edition of the New York Times Best-seller list for Non-fiction (see link above), and that this is its fifth week on the list. Maybe it'd still be in the top ten with a bit of help. And to be fair, I didn't even see Slash's new autobiography anywhere in the store, which is listed as debuting at #8 on the list. (Because let's face it, if I'd seen it, I'd have bought it, too.) As for the Rob Zombie comment, I heard an interview with him on my beloved XM radio, and he admitted to being the only person left who buys CDs anymore. Since I still do, that means I'm in rare company; I think Zombie's a genius.
And by the way, Chelle and I wrote this last week; I've since finished the book. Go get it.
You see, Susan stopped in at the Borders on McKnightmare -- she swears that's the street name but ol' Chelle's got her suspicions -- to pick up Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries already. Good thing she got the chance; she's only been reminding the Tour Manager to go and do it for her the past five weeks or so. Good thing that Tour Manager don't get paid for his gig, or he'd be out on his hiney.
Back to the book 'cause this is what it's all about. Mind you, that there book's been on the Best-seller list since it came out, back in October. You'd think a best-selling book would be near the front of the store, right? On them best-seller racks?
Nope. Susan had to ask for help finding the book. Stuffed away -- I gotta say it was face out on the shelf -- in the music section.
Now, I ask you. Is that where you'd go look for a book about a drug addict? Hidden away on a shelf, not in plain sight? And what about this so-called soundtrack to the book? Where's it at?
People, people, people. I don't care how big a jerk Nikki Sixx might be -- I hear he's not, but even if he was -- he deserves better than this. Susan's not even a hundred pages in and already, she's over at her own computer, typing away on a post about it. She's gotta rave. She's ready to make them kids she calls The Opening Act read it, even though they're way too young to get more than "Drugs are bad" outta it. This book's got power. This book oughta be required readin' in schools 'cept all them biddies who scared of their shadows would have a fit at the idea that Nikki Sixx is a bigger nudist than my good friend Mitchell Voss. But still, this is beside the point.
This is actually all about the marketin' of this fine creation. 'Cause let Chelle tell you, them marketers missed a hell of an opportunity to blow the roof off the way things get done.
First off, how many other books have come out with their own soundtrack? Where's the push to sell the book and the music together? The music biz is so busy whining about how nobody's carin' enough to buy a CD, but here's a chance to change that. Instead of makin' someone pay full price for the music while you give 'em 20% off on the book, how about a package deal? Throw in a coupon for a free t-shirt while you're at it. But for goodness gracious, you marketin' wanna-be geniuses, don't leave it up to rock writers like me to tell you how to do your jobs! You just might wake up and find that you're outta your job and it's now mine. Just 'cause I can do it better'n you don't mean I want it. I like what I do.
And how many studies have we been seein' lately about how people ain't buyin' books no more? I ain't gonna go through the whole song and dance again, boys and girls. Go read the paragraph before this one. You might need the reminder already. This is where I mention that Nikki's said he's giving part of his bucks to charity, too. Hello? Raising money for a good cause? Why aren't you with me, people?
Here was a chance for y'all to work together. Music and books, just like in Susan's vision, comin' together in this whole package where they make each other better even though the one can get along just fine without the other. Best of all, a lot of music people, they don't read much. Same goes for a lot of book people -- they don't listen to a lot of music. Cross those folk over, show 'em a new way, people!
Here was a chance for y'all to sit up and smell a new day. And you blew it. Hidin' a best-seller in the music section. Not offerin' a package deal on the music and book together.
No wonder book sales are down and Susan and Rob Zombie are the only ones buyin' CDs anymore. You people in charge, you just don't get it. This was as plain on the noses on your faces, but God forbid you look in the mirrors.
Marketing people. Is this the sort of garbage they teach you in college? Then Chelle's damn glad she didn't waste her time.
Note from Susan: While I fully understand that those front displays are all paid placements and that the issue in my not finding the book was because someone at Pocket Books didn't pony up the cash, maybe what Chelle and I ought to point out is that, with minimal publicity, this book sits at #16 on the November 18 edition of the New York Times Best-seller list for Non-fiction (see link above), and that this is its fifth week on the list. Maybe it'd still be in the top ten with a bit of help. And to be fair, I didn't even see Slash's new autobiography anywhere in the store, which is listed as debuting at #8 on the list. (Because let's face it, if I'd seen it, I'd have bought it, too.) As for the Rob Zombie comment, I heard an interview with him on my beloved XM radio, and he admitted to being the only person left who buys CDs anymore. Since I still do, that means I'm in rare company; I think Zombie's a genius.
And by the way, Chelle and I wrote this last week; I've since finished the book. Go get it.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Heroin Diaries, Nikki Sixx, Rob Zombie
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Castle of Tunes
For this week's Poetry Train, Rhian asked us to come up with scary stuff. This situation, based on real-life happenings, has been giving me nightmares. Pretty scary.
Now listen up, girls and boys. We got a problem on our hands and it's up to us music lovers to solve it.
Most of you know 'bout that chain of live music joints called Castle of Tunes. It's a good chain; they ain't the problem here, so don't go burn them down. Good people work for them. They open their doors to bands you probably ain't heard of yet, and they make sure the bands come from all walks of life and on one night or another, they try to suit the music fix for every single person on the planet. Castle of Tunes just might take over the world but that ain't the problem here.
The problem starts with the people who own the land some Castles sit on. Those people decided that certain bands -- like Hammerhead or Deadly Metal Hatchet, Carrion or Bitterness -- don't have the family values that the big, land-owning corporations like. That those bands I just mentioned, they aren't good enough for people who spend money at the big corporation's theme parks, movies, books, and all the other things they try to make us buy.
You see, music lovers. I know you do. They've crossed the line. They've gone from suggesting what we should buy to telling us what we can't buy. Which in this case, that be music. Live music. The kind that feels good and is loud and ugly and noisy and some of it's Satanic and some of it's violent and Lord knows that in the case of Hammerhead, it's sexual, too. Some of it's the sort you wouldn't be caught dead listening to. And some of it, you can't get enough of.
That scares the big corporation people. So much that they won't let these bands play in the places built on land they own. Because, you know, someone might have fun or find some sort of inner peace or something from music they don't approve of. God forbid.
Music lovers, it's time for us to stand up and put an end to this. Unless you're under eighteen, no one's got a right to tell you what you can and can't listen to, and if you're under eighteen, take a few minutes and educate those people who think they're your dictators. You never know where a new fan will come from.
The big corporation's gonna refuse to be educated. We gotta deal with them the way our parents dealt with us when we were kids and we were bad: ignore 'em. Ignore their movies, their theme parks, their cute cartoons and those stuffed animals you guys like to give us girls. Spend your money on the bands. Buy t-shirts. See if the boys in Deadly Metal Hatchet will stuff a Hatchet, and give that to your girl. It'll hurt less when she uses it on you.
Take yourself to the other clubs. If you hear a band's been thrown out of Castle of Tunes, go see 'em at the place that's got the nerve to take 'em in. Make sure that place earns lots of bucks from that show. Let the corporation see how much green stuff they lost. Make 'em understand that they can't control us music fans.
We got the power on this one, boys and girls. Let's use it. And once you do, be sure to lobby for ol' Chelle here. She might be out of a job once the big bosses at the Trumpet read this piece. That's okay. Chelle's got to fight. 'Cause once people stop bands from comin' 'round town, Chelle's gonna be out of a job anyway.
Want more Chelle?
Here's her bio.
The first Chelle piece: Jock La Feet
Bitty Bands
Now listen up, girls and boys. We got a problem on our hands and it's up to us music lovers to solve it.
Most of you know 'bout that chain of live music joints called Castle of Tunes. It's a good chain; they ain't the problem here, so don't go burn them down. Good people work for them. They open their doors to bands you probably ain't heard of yet, and they make sure the bands come from all walks of life and on one night or another, they try to suit the music fix for every single person on the planet. Castle of Tunes just might take over the world but that ain't the problem here.
The problem starts with the people who own the land some Castles sit on. Those people decided that certain bands -- like Hammerhead or Deadly Metal Hatchet, Carrion or Bitterness -- don't have the family values that the big, land-owning corporations like. That those bands I just mentioned, they aren't good enough for people who spend money at the big corporation's theme parks, movies, books, and all the other things they try to make us buy.
You see, music lovers. I know you do. They've crossed the line. They've gone from suggesting what we should buy to telling us what we can't buy. Which in this case, that be music. Live music. The kind that feels good and is loud and ugly and noisy and some of it's Satanic and some of it's violent and Lord knows that in the case of Hammerhead, it's sexual, too. Some of it's the sort you wouldn't be caught dead listening to. And some of it, you can't get enough of.
That scares the big corporation people. So much that they won't let these bands play in the places built on land they own. Because, you know, someone might have fun or find some sort of inner peace or something from music they don't approve of. God forbid.
Music lovers, it's time for us to stand up and put an end to this. Unless you're under eighteen, no one's got a right to tell you what you can and can't listen to, and if you're under eighteen, take a few minutes and educate those people who think they're your dictators. You never know where a new fan will come from.
The big corporation's gonna refuse to be educated. We gotta deal with them the way our parents dealt with us when we were kids and we were bad: ignore 'em. Ignore their movies, their theme parks, their cute cartoons and those stuffed animals you guys like to give us girls. Spend your money on the bands. Buy t-shirts. See if the boys in Deadly Metal Hatchet will stuff a Hatchet, and give that to your girl. It'll hurt less when she uses it on you.
Take yourself to the other clubs. If you hear a band's been thrown out of Castle of Tunes, go see 'em at the place that's got the nerve to take 'em in. Make sure that place earns lots of bucks from that show. Let the corporation see how much green stuff they lost. Make 'em understand that they can't control us music fans.
We got the power on this one, boys and girls. Let's use it. And once you do, be sure to lobby for ol' Chelle here. She might be out of a job once the big bosses at the Trumpet read this piece. That's okay. Chelle's got to fight. 'Cause once people stop bands from comin' 'round town, Chelle's gonna be out of a job anyway.
Want more Chelle?
Here's her bio.
The first Chelle piece: Jock La Feet
Bitty Bands
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Poetry Train, Rhian/Crowwoman
Monday, September 03, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- The Gathering Rising
Welcome back to the musings of fictional musical journalist Chelle LaFleur!
So Chelle's been keeping this spot humming lately, hasn't she? And she's not stopping now. She's not allowed, not so long as the city's humming like it's going places. Wouldn't that be nice.
That's why it's so important that all you out there in newspaper land get off your rears and get out to experience for real some of what Chelle's so busy writing about. I don't do this so you can stay home, peoples. I do it so you all know where to best spend your precious entertainment dollars. In other words: I suffer so you don't have to.
The Gathering Rising is the latest discovery that Chelle just can't stop raving about. A band out of Omaha, they look like Nerdvana would look if Nerdvana were trying to look like contemporary geeks. Yeah, you know the type; they're what Chelle had expected Temple of the Book to be. Cerebral. Electronic. The sort you get stoned and listen to. Not that Chelle or anyone at the Trumpet gets stoned or advocates getting stoned, mind you. It's just that anyone who does might get more out of the music. Ready for a big word? Aural. Grab a dictionary; Chelle di. Expand your mind. That's what aural means. That's what The Gathering Rising does. They may not have screaming guitars, but they've got a cool name and a sound that indie rockers will dig. And while Chelle hopes that indie rock never takes over the throne from good ol' Rock and Roll, she's thinking that The Gathering Rising can break away from college radio and make bunches more fans.
You heard it first and you heard it here: If you see Chelle in a Nerdvana or The Gathering Rising t-shirt, don't be shocked. The best metalheads are those who know there's more to music than heavy.
This was actually inspired by literary agent Nathan Bransford's not-so-recent comment about book titles involving the words Gathering and Rising. That, of course, inspired this. I was going to make them a metal band, but just for Nathan, I made them more the sort I think he'd like. Which sort of explains right there why he's probably not the right agent for me.
At any rate, for more top-tier writings and poetry, check out Rhian's poetry train! And join in, will ya?
So Chelle's been keeping this spot humming lately, hasn't she? And she's not stopping now. She's not allowed, not so long as the city's humming like it's going places. Wouldn't that be nice.
That's why it's so important that all you out there in newspaper land get off your rears and get out to experience for real some of what Chelle's so busy writing about. I don't do this so you can stay home, peoples. I do it so you all know where to best spend your precious entertainment dollars. In other words: I suffer so you don't have to.
The Gathering Rising is the latest discovery that Chelle just can't stop raving about. A band out of Omaha, they look like Nerdvana would look if Nerdvana were trying to look like contemporary geeks. Yeah, you know the type; they're what Chelle had expected Temple of the Book to be. Cerebral. Electronic. The sort you get stoned and listen to. Not that Chelle or anyone at the Trumpet gets stoned or advocates getting stoned, mind you. It's just that anyone who does might get more out of the music. Ready for a big word? Aural. Grab a dictionary; Chelle di. Expand your mind. That's what aural means. That's what The Gathering Rising does. They may not have screaming guitars, but they've got a cool name and a sound that indie rockers will dig. And while Chelle hopes that indie rock never takes over the throne from good ol' Rock and Roll, she's thinking that The Gathering Rising can break away from college radio and make bunches more fans.
You heard it first and you heard it here: If you see Chelle in a Nerdvana or The Gathering Rising t-shirt, don't be shocked. The best metalheads are those who know there's more to music than heavy.
This was actually inspired by literary agent Nathan Bransford's not-so-recent comment about book titles involving the words Gathering and Rising. That, of course, inspired this. I was going to make them a metal band, but just for Nathan, I made them more the sort I think he'd like. Which sort of explains right there why he's probably not the right agent for me.
At any rate, for more top-tier writings and poetry, check out Rhian's poetry train! And join in, will ya?
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Poetry Train
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Nerdvana
Now, you all know that it's part of Chelle LaFleur's job to be a busy girl. Bands come to town, Chelle's there in the audience, reviewing the show for this here Trumpet newspaper. Bands get ready to come to town, Chelle's on the phone with them, getting interviews so her precious readers have a clue or two about the bands playing our lovely city and might actually turn out to check out something new.
Anyone who's been reading this here space for awhile knows how many different bands Chelle sees. And that being the music critic means that Chelle sometimes has to go hear bands who she wouldn't download if you paid her to. Not that they're not good. They're just not her style.
That's the case with a band just breaking into the national music scene. You say you love music? Then go check them out, but don't be expecting to run into Chelle LaFleur out and about the town inside of one of their shirts. Actually, they have a pretty good name: Nerdvana. Maybe if they want to win this city over, they can comp me the 4XL ol' Chelle needs and she'll even wear it to a ShapeShifter show. Chelle's used to sticking out in those metal crowds.
She stood out in the Nerdvana crowd, too. Turns out saying Nerdvana's the polar different from ShapeShifter's being gentle with you good readers.
They're from Baton Rouge, of all places, so you'd think they'd rock. Their name Nerdvana screams of the irony and alternative rock you Tulane types dig so much. We'll save the irony and alternative rock for another time 'cause there's nothing ironic about Nerdvana. Alternative… yeah, they're an alternative to most of what's out there, but alt radio ain't gonna be hugging these guys and making nice on them so fast.
Good thing I'm not Nerdvana's manager 'cause for the life of me, Chelle can't figure out which radio station to stick 'em on. They belong with the Golden Oldies and poodle skirts and sock hops. They got that harmonizing thing going, they're four boys with crew cuts and ears that stick out and square glasses and probably pocket protectors, too. Their guitar player holds his axe so high that Mitchell Voss gets arm cramps just looking at them, but then again, if anyone wears their guitar lower than Mitchell Voss, I'd like to meet him. Or her.
The best way Chelle can put it is that these boys croon. The old men who sang the standards before they were standard? They're up there in heaven, where all good crooners go, cheering these boys on. Seriously. You could play Nerdvana in the middle of any of those oldies and unless you listened to the words, you'd think their songs were as old as the others.
Maybe they'll turn out to be nothing more than a novelty, which is fine with Chelle LaFleur, who refuses to put on a poodle skirt 'cause that's just disrespectful to poodles everywhere. But you heard it first and you heard it here: Nerdvana's doing something different. If you can take their kind of music, make sure you look into 'em.
Anyone who's been reading this here space for awhile knows how many different bands Chelle sees. And that being the music critic means that Chelle sometimes has to go hear bands who she wouldn't download if you paid her to. Not that they're not good. They're just not her style.
That's the case with a band just breaking into the national music scene. You say you love music? Then go check them out, but don't be expecting to run into Chelle LaFleur out and about the town inside of one of their shirts. Actually, they have a pretty good name: Nerdvana. Maybe if they want to win this city over, they can comp me the 4XL ol' Chelle needs and she'll even wear it to a ShapeShifter show. Chelle's used to sticking out in those metal crowds.
She stood out in the Nerdvana crowd, too. Turns out saying Nerdvana's the polar different from ShapeShifter's being gentle with you good readers.
They're from Baton Rouge, of all places, so you'd think they'd rock. Their name Nerdvana screams of the irony and alternative rock you Tulane types dig so much. We'll save the irony and alternative rock for another time 'cause there's nothing ironic about Nerdvana. Alternative… yeah, they're an alternative to most of what's out there, but alt radio ain't gonna be hugging these guys and making nice on them so fast.
Good thing I'm not Nerdvana's manager 'cause for the life of me, Chelle can't figure out which radio station to stick 'em on. They belong with the Golden Oldies and poodle skirts and sock hops. They got that harmonizing thing going, they're four boys with crew cuts and ears that stick out and square glasses and probably pocket protectors, too. Their guitar player holds his axe so high that Mitchell Voss gets arm cramps just looking at them, but then again, if anyone wears their guitar lower than Mitchell Voss, I'd like to meet him. Or her.
The best way Chelle can put it is that these boys croon. The old men who sang the standards before they were standard? They're up there in heaven, where all good crooners go, cheering these boys on. Seriously. You could play Nerdvana in the middle of any of those oldies and unless you listened to the words, you'd think their songs were as old as the others.
Maybe they'll turn out to be nothing more than a novelty, which is fine with Chelle LaFleur, who refuses to put on a poodle skirt 'cause that's just disrespectful to poodles everywhere. But you heard it first and you heard it here: Nerdvana's doing something different. If you can take their kind of music, make sure you look into 'em.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Poetry Train
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Screaming
… now that I've pretty well shredded that Alabama band, let me tell you about this t-shirt I got from the good souls who work for Deadly Metal Hatchet. They sent it in size 4X, so that right there tells you they're serious about having me wear it and not use it to wash the car I ain't got. It also tells me that they care about ol' Chelle LaFleur here 'cause let me tell you, having something made in a 4x costs extra bucks.
Now, most of you know all about Deadly Metal Hatchet. They're an okay band, one of those bands you always want on your bill 'cause they'll help pack the joint and if you're smart, you'll take a cut off their merchandise sales, too, 'cause people can't get enough of that Hatchet. They're not dumb, either. They'll be the first to tell you that they'll never be able to pull in more than five thou peoples a night. They're about the Hatchet more than the music, they know it, and they don't care, so long as their merchandise sales are good.
This t-shirt they sent me's got the Hatchet on it, of course. It's sticking out of what my medical editor says is a lung and let me tell you, she had a good old time showing me all the different parts of a lung, all of which are right smack there, right where they ought to be. Anatomically correct and all that.
It's a cool shirt. My medical editor said she'd have stolen it if it were her size, so I got on the phone and tried to mooch one for her. They'll be in the stores soon, so keep your eyeballs peeled for 'em and keep off my medical editor's clothes.
Before y'all go out, though, there's one thing you need to know about this latest Deadly Metal Hatchet shirt. It's a black shirt with white print. White print that glows in the dark and makes fat Creole women like yours truly here scream when they walk down a dark hallway and see their size 4x besom glowing at her.
I told you first, and I told you here. Chelle LaFleur screams. Deal with that fact, and get your own damn shirt. Mine's hidden at the bottom of the pile 'cause if it's not, it glows all night long and keeps me up, staring at all those anatomically correct lung parts.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. Deadly Metal Hatchet shirts and bands from Alabama. Both make ol' Chelle scream.
Now, most of you know all about Deadly Metal Hatchet. They're an okay band, one of those bands you always want on your bill 'cause they'll help pack the joint and if you're smart, you'll take a cut off their merchandise sales, too, 'cause people can't get enough of that Hatchet. They're not dumb, either. They'll be the first to tell you that they'll never be able to pull in more than five thou peoples a night. They're about the Hatchet more than the music, they know it, and they don't care, so long as their merchandise sales are good.
This t-shirt they sent me's got the Hatchet on it, of course. It's sticking out of what my medical editor says is a lung and let me tell you, she had a good old time showing me all the different parts of a lung, all of which are right smack there, right where they ought to be. Anatomically correct and all that.
It's a cool shirt. My medical editor said she'd have stolen it if it were her size, so I got on the phone and tried to mooch one for her. They'll be in the stores soon, so keep your eyeballs peeled for 'em and keep off my medical editor's clothes.
Before y'all go out, though, there's one thing you need to know about this latest Deadly Metal Hatchet shirt. It's a black shirt with white print. White print that glows in the dark and makes fat Creole women like yours truly here scream when they walk down a dark hallway and see their size 4x besom glowing at her.
I told you first, and I told you here. Chelle LaFleur screams. Deal with that fact, and get your own damn shirt. Mine's hidden at the bottom of the pile 'cause if it's not, it glows all night long and keeps me up, staring at all those anatomically correct lung parts.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. Deadly Metal Hatchet shirts and bands from Alabama. Both make ol' Chelle scream.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, Deadly Metal Hatchet, fiction
Monday, June 04, 2007
Byline Chelle LaFleur: Temple of the Book
Have you been over to Rhian's poetry train? Have you jumped on???
Have you joined Dewey's comment game?
Are you ready for my summer reading contest???
Now, on to what you're here for. The fiction.
Now, you readers know that ol' Chelle LaFleur can bang her big fat head with the best of them. And you readers know that ol' Chelle LaFleur can rock out with the best of them. That's why Chelle LaFleur is so much more than just a music critic.
Chelle LaFleur's gotta earn her keep at this here Trumpet newspaper, and so Chelle got to go out one night and check out Temple of the Book, one of those three-man, acoustic bands where all the members wear their brown hair pulled back in ponytails and they all have John Lennon glasses on. The whole audience would be pale-skinned or else would be all dredlocked up. I just knew it.
Has Chelle told you lately that she's the world's stupidest journalist? Has she?
Temple of the Book is three dudes, yeah. They're not all acoustic, they don't wear ponytails and the only glasses were the ones they were drinking their beer out of. And they rock. Hard. Geoffrey, the guitarist, might be able to out head-bang some of you regulars, and that's no joking on Chelle's part.
I may have been the only dark face in the crowd, but don't think people don't know who Chelle LaFleur is. I been to lots of shows and seen lots of bands and that was the first time I got a shout-out from the band onstage. Well, okay, there was that time that the ShapeShifter boys started asking if I was there, but that was different. This was a band who was glad to see ol' Chelle, and who said they played harder 'cause I was there. I don't think praise gets no better than that.
The shame of all of this is that, typical of this city, no one came to see Temple of the Book. There were about thirty of us there. What's the matter with you people? Are you really dumb enough to think that our music clubs will stay open if no one shows up at them? Do you think these bands can make it and make a new name for the city without your support?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, it can be hard to figure out what sort of music a band plays. Some of them don't do themselves any favors, picking those brainy names that makes them sound like they should be wearing John Lennon glasses. But don't a night checking out a new band beat that tired old TV show you didn't want to watch in the first place?
You rockers ought to get over yourselves and check this band out. Three guys: one guitar, one bass, one drummer. The bass player sings some of the smartest, most with-it lyrics I've heard. I know this first-hand not just 'cause I heard them, but because they wrote some of them down for me. Look here:
You say you mean it
You back it up with actions
And when push comes to shove
You push right on back
That's from the song called Braveheart. Yeah, it was a movie or tall tale or something. But think about it. Think what it's saying in today's world. You gonna let yourself be pushed around and made to live a life you don't want to live? You know how tired I am of hearing you people whine because someone's pushing on you and not letting you have your own way. Well, here's your power. Take it and make some changes already 'cause Chelle's sick of hearing the whining.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. Temple of the Book. Check them out.
Have you joined Dewey's comment game?
Are you ready for my summer reading contest???
Now, on to what you're here for. The fiction.
Now, you readers know that ol' Chelle LaFleur can bang her big fat head with the best of them. And you readers know that ol' Chelle LaFleur can rock out with the best of them. That's why Chelle LaFleur is so much more than just a music critic.
Chelle LaFleur's gotta earn her keep at this here Trumpet newspaper, and so Chelle got to go out one night and check out Temple of the Book, one of those three-man, acoustic bands where all the members wear their brown hair pulled back in ponytails and they all have John Lennon glasses on. The whole audience would be pale-skinned or else would be all dredlocked up. I just knew it.
Has Chelle told you lately that she's the world's stupidest journalist? Has she?
Temple of the Book is three dudes, yeah. They're not all acoustic, they don't wear ponytails and the only glasses were the ones they were drinking their beer out of. And they rock. Hard. Geoffrey, the guitarist, might be able to out head-bang some of you regulars, and that's no joking on Chelle's part.
I may have been the only dark face in the crowd, but don't think people don't know who Chelle LaFleur is. I been to lots of shows and seen lots of bands and that was the first time I got a shout-out from the band onstage. Well, okay, there was that time that the ShapeShifter boys started asking if I was there, but that was different. This was a band who was glad to see ol' Chelle, and who said they played harder 'cause I was there. I don't think praise gets no better than that.
The shame of all of this is that, typical of this city, no one came to see Temple of the Book. There were about thirty of us there. What's the matter with you people? Are you really dumb enough to think that our music clubs will stay open if no one shows up at them? Do you think these bands can make it and make a new name for the city without your support?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, it can be hard to figure out what sort of music a band plays. Some of them don't do themselves any favors, picking those brainy names that makes them sound like they should be wearing John Lennon glasses. But don't a night checking out a new band beat that tired old TV show you didn't want to watch in the first place?
You rockers ought to get over yourselves and check this band out. Three guys: one guitar, one bass, one drummer. The bass player sings some of the smartest, most with-it lyrics I've heard. I know this first-hand not just 'cause I heard them, but because they wrote some of them down for me. Look here:
You say you mean it
You back it up with actions
And when push comes to shove
You push right on back
That's from the song called Braveheart. Yeah, it was a movie or tall tale or something. But think about it. Think what it's saying in today's world. You gonna let yourself be pushed around and made to live a life you don't want to live? You know how tired I am of hearing you people whine because someone's pushing on you and not letting you have your own way. Well, here's your power. Take it and make some changes already 'cause Chelle's sick of hearing the whining.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. Temple of the Book. Check them out.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, dewey, fiction, musicians, Poetry Train
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Flipped
With apologies to Karen!, who was expecting to see this posted earlier.
I swear, you'da thought my desk was hostin' Christmas the way the whole greedy office buzzed around here the other day, sniffin' around for handouts. What do you mean why? You think Chelle LaFleur's not worth sniffing around?
This one time, you just might be right, but don't let that get to your head. It's the mail that was so hot. A good ten packages stuffed full of CDs showed up, all at once. Looks like record company folk really do care that I know what I'm writing about when these bands roll through town.
Now, don't no one go telling them that I know more'n I let on. You really think I get all hot and bothered over a record company thinking I'm so dumb, they gotta send me lots of CDs and press kits about their bands? Got any clue how much money someone'll make on eBay once I'm dead?
Even funnier than the fact that I've got these folk snowed is the way my coworkers react. You'd think they're in a record store or somethin', pickin' up all my new music and turning it over, as if the back cover will tell them the secrets of the universe or somethin'.
Ever notice that? How every single person on the planet picks up a record, a cassette -- yeah, remember those two things? -- a CD, whatever, and turns it over and gives it a good, long look?
Seems to your friend Chelle here that if the universe wants to give up its secrets, it'll do it inside the record and let it come out that way, in the music. I've never seen anything on the back of a CD 'cept a pretty picture -- okay, I've seen plenty of ugly ones and even more boring ones. -- and some really small print that hurts Chelle's old eyes.
You heard it first and you heard it here: It's a waste of all our time time to flip a disc over and read what's on the back, but I dare you to try and stop yourself before it's been flipped. Like women who want to keep their mouths shut when they put mascara on, we just can't stop.
I swear, you'da thought my desk was hostin' Christmas the way the whole greedy office buzzed around here the other day, sniffin' around for handouts. What do you mean why? You think Chelle LaFleur's not worth sniffing around?
This one time, you just might be right, but don't let that get to your head. It's the mail that was so hot. A good ten packages stuffed full of CDs showed up, all at once. Looks like record company folk really do care that I know what I'm writing about when these bands roll through town.
Now, don't no one go telling them that I know more'n I let on. You really think I get all hot and bothered over a record company thinking I'm so dumb, they gotta send me lots of CDs and press kits about their bands? Got any clue how much money someone'll make on eBay once I'm dead?
Even funnier than the fact that I've got these folk snowed is the way my coworkers react. You'd think they're in a record store or somethin', pickin' up all my new music and turning it over, as if the back cover will tell them the secrets of the universe or somethin'.
Ever notice that? How every single person on the planet picks up a record, a cassette -- yeah, remember those two things? -- a CD, whatever, and turns it over and gives it a good, long look?
Seems to your friend Chelle here that if the universe wants to give up its secrets, it'll do it inside the record and let it come out that way, in the music. I've never seen anything on the back of a CD 'cept a pretty picture -- okay, I've seen plenty of ugly ones and even more boring ones. -- and some really small print that hurts Chelle's old eyes.
You heard it first and you heard it here: It's a waste of all our time time to flip a disc over and read what's on the back, but I dare you to try and stop yourself before it's been flipped. Like women who want to keep their mouths shut when they put mascara on, we just can't stop.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction
Monday, March 12, 2007
Susan Speaks: What Set Chelle Off
I read a very nice blog via my feedreader. It posts all sorts of cool (and not so cool) jobs for freelance writers. And while I'm not a freelance writer, it's still neat to read and see what's out there. You never know where the road we're on will wind up, I figure. Besides, even if it's not something I need personally, you never know when a character or two might.
The list of job postings that went up on Sunday sorta horrified me, which is why you're not getting a direct link. The typos. Oy, the typos! I've been reading this blog long enough to have an idea that they didn't come from Denise, who runs the site. But come on now, folks... why would any self-respecting writer want to work for you if you can't tell the difference between you're and your. Heroin and heroine. Breath and breathe.
If you've been following the exploits of Chelle LaFleur, you've seen her harp on this sort of thing in the past. Namely when I messed up as I wrote a piece for her, and all you groupies caught it for me. (thank you for that, too)
So it seemed natural to let Chelle loose on the subject again. And while I'd have ranted more about how important it is for potential employers (and literary agents) to represent themselves more... well, Chelle may be fictional, but she's her own woman.
If you need to catch up on her exploits, search my tags for Chelle. And anyone who can tell me how to make an index -- or who wants to do it for me, just for the link love and bragging rights -- please, speak up.
Oh, and check to make sure your feed's turned on, will ya? I'm talking RSS or Atom, not Feedburner. I'm a Google Reader sort of girl. (why does that make me feel all flirty and like I should be kicking up my heels and batting my eyelashes?)
Talk at you soon...
The list of job postings that went up on Sunday sorta horrified me, which is why you're not getting a direct link. The typos. Oy, the typos! I've been reading this blog long enough to have an idea that they didn't come from Denise, who runs the site. But come on now, folks... why would any self-respecting writer want to work for you if you can't tell the difference between you're and your. Heroin and heroine. Breath and breathe.
If you've been following the exploits of Chelle LaFleur, you've seen her harp on this sort of thing in the past. Namely when I messed up as I wrote a piece for her, and all you groupies caught it for me. (thank you for that, too)
So it seemed natural to let Chelle loose on the subject again. And while I'd have ranted more about how important it is for potential employers (and literary agents) to represent themselves more... well, Chelle may be fictional, but she's her own woman.
If you need to catch up on her exploits, search my tags for Chelle. And anyone who can tell me how to make an index -- or who wants to do it for me, just for the link love and bragging rights -- please, speak up.
Oh, and check to make sure your feed's turned on, will ya? I'm talking RSS or Atom, not Feedburner. I'm a Google Reader sort of girl. (why does that make me feel all flirty and like I should be kicking up my heels and batting my eyelashes?)
Talk at you soon...
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Susan Speaks, writing process
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- More about Typos
Here I go again
about typos. Sue me, all right? I'm a journalist even if I never went to school for it. But maybe that's why it gets my goat so much, you know what I'm saying here, people? If Chelle LaFleur can find a way to spell right, so can you.
Yes, it's that simple. No, don't you dare come whining to me about how busy you are and how something like spelling shouldn't matter. It does and it should. If I can hustle to make my own bills and still take the time to spell right, so can you.
Besides, we live in a world that's more and more about our computer screens. We don't see faces no more; we see pictures and while y'all might have some pretty darn interesting body parts, that's something else you gotta consider.
Here's the deal: The Trumpet here is looking to hire some freelance writers, now that they've gone and put me on staff full-time with a salary and everything. We all know they did this so I'll stop writing for every news outfit in town and so they can keep me for themselves, but that ain't the issue, here. What it's all about are these applications we've been gettin' in at the office.
"I wanna be a righter."
I kid you not, that's what one application said. You wanna be a lefter, too? You wanna get an interview? Work with real people and not monkeys or your greased-up right hand? Learn how to spell.
One kid came into the reception area wearing a dirty red hoodie, pulled up and looking like it hadn't been washed in a year or two. Alls we could see was his nose, and that didn't look too clean, neither. I kid you not. And this small voice comes out, "I can write music reviews."
Well, people, lookie here. That's Chelle's job. No one said nothing about writing music reviews.
Look. I meet folk like you daily. You all wanna have a glamour job like ole Chelle's. But to get where I am, and to get to the point where you can write a column like I do and use slang like I do -- but you'll notice it's all spelled right slang -- you gotta impress. You gotta make people believe that you can do the job from the first second they lay eyes on you.
You can't do that if you can't spell. Take two seconds and look up those words in the dictionary. You just might learn something along the way, and learnin's always a good thing. Use that word you just learned and make someone think you're smart.
I remember a day when being smart was sexy. Well, in this corner of the world, that hasn't changed. Smart is sexy. Good spelling is hotter than hot. And being professional from the get-go is what'll get you where Chelle is.
You heard it first and you heard it here. You may not get to where ole Chelle is, but if not, it's only you that's holding you back.
about typos. Sue me, all right? I'm a journalist even if I never went to school for it. But maybe that's why it gets my goat so much, you know what I'm saying here, people? If Chelle LaFleur can find a way to spell right, so can you.
Yes, it's that simple. No, don't you dare come whining to me about how busy you are and how something like spelling shouldn't matter. It does and it should. If I can hustle to make my own bills and still take the time to spell right, so can you.
Besides, we live in a world that's more and more about our computer screens. We don't see faces no more; we see pictures and while y'all might have some pretty darn interesting body parts, that's something else you gotta consider.
Here's the deal: The Trumpet here is looking to hire some freelance writers, now that they've gone and put me on staff full-time with a salary and everything. We all know they did this so I'll stop writing for every news outfit in town and so they can keep me for themselves, but that ain't the issue, here. What it's all about are these applications we've been gettin' in at the office.
"I wanna be a righter."
I kid you not, that's what one application said. You wanna be a lefter, too? You wanna get an interview? Work with real people and not monkeys or your greased-up right hand? Learn how to spell.
One kid came into the reception area wearing a dirty red hoodie, pulled up and looking like it hadn't been washed in a year or two. Alls we could see was his nose, and that didn't look too clean, neither. I kid you not. And this small voice comes out, "I can write music reviews."
Well, people, lookie here. That's Chelle's job. No one said nothing about writing music reviews.
Look. I meet folk like you daily. You all wanna have a glamour job like ole Chelle's. But to get where I am, and to get to the point where you can write a column like I do and use slang like I do -- but you'll notice it's all spelled right slang -- you gotta impress. You gotta make people believe that you can do the job from the first second they lay eyes on you.
You can't do that if you can't spell. Take two seconds and look up those words in the dictionary. You just might learn something along the way, and learnin's always a good thing. Use that word you just learned and make someone think you're smart.
I remember a day when being smart was sexy. Well, in this corner of the world, that hasn't changed. Smart is sexy. Good spelling is hotter than hot. And being professional from the get-go is what'll get you where Chelle is.
You heard it first and you heard it here. You may not get to where ole Chelle is, but if not, it's only you that's holding you back.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, typos
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Bitty Bands
As part of the Debut a Debut contest that Erica at Writing Aspirations and I are throwing, I thought that I'd start featuring some of our debut authors, too. First is Lila Shaara, whose Every Secret Thing is one of the debuts you can win copies of -- an autographed hardcover or an audiobook on CD!
Now, on to Chelle and what she's got to say today.
Now someone had better explain to me just what's goin' on here. Okay? I'm listening, so you all had better start speaking.
Now see here. I know I've encouraged letters and feedback from you all. And for the most part, what you people have to say rocks. I like that you don't hold back in your letters, and I like even more that you show me some respect when we meet up face to face. Not a lot; just enough.
What I don't like is this recent bombardment from you all about my horn-tooting of those little bands out there. Why? What's your issue here? Don't you know how big bands get made? They start out as little bands and they slug it out and they find a way to make sure they stand out. If they stand out enough to catch my cynical old ears, so much the better, don't you think? Have you ever known me to go nuts for a band that was so terrible, you changed the radio station every time they came on?
Well, you gotta account for taste in there, too. But my track record speaks for itself: every single bitty band I've told you about has found their way to success of some size, and all of it's been deserved. Sure, some of 'em broke up before they made it as big as they could have, but that's the nature of bands, boys and girls. They're made up of people. People don't always get along.
Sort of like you all and me, right now. 'Cause sure as I know my name's Chelle LaFleur, I know that you ain't feeling this bitty band love the way I am. And I don't know why, unless you're just perfectly happy to keep on doing the same-old, same-old.
If that's the case, then you shouldn't be taking up the air I'm tryin' to breathe, you know what I'm saying here, boys and girls? I'm here to find good music and not care about how big their arenas are or how gigantic their heads are or how humongous their staffs are, pushing their great big news down my fat throat. It's about the quality of the music, and damn if I care who's making it.
Okay, unless it's those ShapeShifter boys, but they're another story. They're one of those bands who earn your respect, just because they're so damn cute, and so damn into what they're doing and we all know they won't be a bitty band for much longer.
So quit'cher bellyaching at me already. If no one looks for the next ShapeShifter, how's anyone gonna find them?
You heard it first, and you heard it here: Bitty bands rock. C'mon out with Chelle and give 'em your support.
Debut a Debut! Don't forget!
Now, on to Chelle and what she's got to say today.
Now someone had better explain to me just what's goin' on here. Okay? I'm listening, so you all had better start speaking.
Now see here. I know I've encouraged letters and feedback from you all. And for the most part, what you people have to say rocks. I like that you don't hold back in your letters, and I like even more that you show me some respect when we meet up face to face. Not a lot; just enough.
What I don't like is this recent bombardment from you all about my horn-tooting of those little bands out there. Why? What's your issue here? Don't you know how big bands get made? They start out as little bands and they slug it out and they find a way to make sure they stand out. If they stand out enough to catch my cynical old ears, so much the better, don't you think? Have you ever known me to go nuts for a band that was so terrible, you changed the radio station every time they came on?
Well, you gotta account for taste in there, too. But my track record speaks for itself: every single bitty band I've told you about has found their way to success of some size, and all of it's been deserved. Sure, some of 'em broke up before they made it as big as they could have, but that's the nature of bands, boys and girls. They're made up of people. People don't always get along.
Sort of like you all and me, right now. 'Cause sure as I know my name's Chelle LaFleur, I know that you ain't feeling this bitty band love the way I am. And I don't know why, unless you're just perfectly happy to keep on doing the same-old, same-old.
If that's the case, then you shouldn't be taking up the air I'm tryin' to breathe, you know what I'm saying here, boys and girls? I'm here to find good music and not care about how big their arenas are or how gigantic their heads are or how humongous their staffs are, pushing their great big news down my fat throat. It's about the quality of the music, and damn if I care who's making it.
Okay, unless it's those ShapeShifter boys, but they're another story. They're one of those bands who earn your respect, just because they're so damn cute, and so damn into what they're doing and we all know they won't be a bitty band for much longer.
So quit'cher bellyaching at me already. If no one looks for the next ShapeShifter, how's anyone gonna find them?
You heard it first, and you heard it here: Bitty bands rock. C'mon out with Chelle and give 'em your support.
Debut a Debut! Don't forget!
Labels: books, Chelle LaFleur, contest, prizes, Writing Aspirations
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Musical Hanukkah Celebration
Now, why aren't other cities' local scenes smart enough to do somethin' like this? I'm talkin' about what my favorite band's got going on in the city of Riverview this time. Don't be sad if you missed the news; they almost snuck this one past yours truly, herself. Almost.
Ready for this? It's brilliant. It's worth copying. They threw a musical Hanukkah party for the members of the local music scene. Anyone involved -- roadies, musicians, promoters, journalists -- could get in for a ten buck ticket that they had to get in advance and buy through KRVR, the radio station that's so high on the Riverview scene that Bobby Bands, himself, is trying to horn in on their turf. (I hear they had the balls to turn his ten bucks away, too.)
For fifty bucks more, you could jam onstage. With the sponsors of the night: ShapeShifter. And since everything from the food to the club to the labor was donated, all the money went to one of those "keep music in our schools" charities that are so hot right now.
Took me two days, but I got hold of ShapeShifter's Mitchell Voss. "It was Eric's idea, really," he said, and handed the phone over. For someone who usually lets his guitar talk for him, ShapeShifter's Eric Wallace had a lot to say. Here's some of it.
"Monday is the quietest day in the entertainment industry, so we picked it, figuring that no one would be committed elsewhere. And since Hanukkah runs for eight days, there's always a Monday during Hanukkah. We can do this for years to come, and I hope we will.
"Why Hanukkah if no one in the band's Jewish? Well, my dad and I were talking about this, wondering if the Jewish kids ever feel bad that Santa doesn't come to their houses--"
He got interrupted here by my favorite blabbermouth. "Look, Chelle. We have Christmas parties out the wazoo. New Year's Eve parties. You can't turn on a fucking radio without hearing Christmas carols until you're blue in the face and stuffing a CD in the player so fast, you break the fucking thing. It's all about Christmas around here."
"So we figured," Eric said. "That we'd honor the religion that was around before Christianity but gets drowned out this time of year. We'd have a Hanukkah party and celebrate our music scene at the same time. After all, Hanukkah's a holiday of rededication. It just seemed to fit with the idea of reminding everyone that we're still into the local scene. It doesn't matter how big we get; it all starts at the local level. Just like the rededication of the Jews' temple."
"And we managed to talk the cook into making potato pancakes for everyone, too," Mitchell laughed in my ear. Ooh, baby. Laugh away.
Focus, Chelle. This was a good thing. Over three hundred people turned out, and they filled the fifty spaces for that big old jam with the superstars themselves. That was an extra fifty bucks for that honor, remember. Once you do the math, you get a pretty nice $5500 for charity.
And then those ShapeShifter boys topped that. They matched the take, making a cool $11,000.
Eric said his father's church was also going to make a donation in the name of the Riverview Musician's Hanukkah Celebration, and is going to work throughout the year toward getting more of the city's religious folk of all denominations and faiths involved for next year. The funds won't stay in Riverview, either, but are going to Music Lives, a foundation that spreads the wealth and the message across the country. This is important, Mitchell told me, "because without music in the schools, some of us won't get to sing in the choir and find out that we can do more than croak. That's what I got out of choir. That and the chance to be around all those girls in their concert best. Man, that alone made being in the choir worth it."
So, c'mon. This is one bandwagon worth jumping on, and go figure that it's ShapeShifter leading the way. Again. Y'all laugh at my face, tellin' me I'm nothin' but a ShapeShifter groupie, but if they're doin' stuff that's this good, why aren't you one, too?
You heard it first and you heard it here: Musical Hanukkah Celebrations are going to be sweeping the country. Get involved now.
(a note from Susan: While Chelle LaFleur, our slightly single-minded journalist, and ShapeShifter are as fake as the Musical Hanukkah Celebration, the Music Lives Foundation isn't. Endorsed by Paul McCartney and Fidelity Investments, they're helping keep music in our community's schools. Check out their website; read the stats about how music helps our children. And if you've got an extra $50, for the price of a jam with ShapeShifter, you can make a positive impact on the world. If you can't do fifty, do what you can; their minimum is five. Go on. Skip that latte and donate instead. And be sure to tell them you heard about them here.)
Ready for this? It's brilliant. It's worth copying. They threw a musical Hanukkah party for the members of the local music scene. Anyone involved -- roadies, musicians, promoters, journalists -- could get in for a ten buck ticket that they had to get in advance and buy through KRVR, the radio station that's so high on the Riverview scene that Bobby Bands, himself, is trying to horn in on their turf. (I hear they had the balls to turn his ten bucks away, too.)
For fifty bucks more, you could jam onstage. With the sponsors of the night: ShapeShifter. And since everything from the food to the club to the labor was donated, all the money went to one of those "keep music in our schools" charities that are so hot right now.
Took me two days, but I got hold of ShapeShifter's Mitchell Voss. "It was Eric's idea, really," he said, and handed the phone over. For someone who usually lets his guitar talk for him, ShapeShifter's Eric Wallace had a lot to say. Here's some of it.
"Monday is the quietest day in the entertainment industry, so we picked it, figuring that no one would be committed elsewhere. And since Hanukkah runs for eight days, there's always a Monday during Hanukkah. We can do this for years to come, and I hope we will.
"Why Hanukkah if no one in the band's Jewish? Well, my dad and I were talking about this, wondering if the Jewish kids ever feel bad that Santa doesn't come to their houses--"
He got interrupted here by my favorite blabbermouth. "Look, Chelle. We have Christmas parties out the wazoo. New Year's Eve parties. You can't turn on a fucking radio without hearing Christmas carols until you're blue in the face and stuffing a CD in the player so fast, you break the fucking thing. It's all about Christmas around here."
"So we figured," Eric said. "That we'd honor the religion that was around before Christianity but gets drowned out this time of year. We'd have a Hanukkah party and celebrate our music scene at the same time. After all, Hanukkah's a holiday of rededication. It just seemed to fit with the idea of reminding everyone that we're still into the local scene. It doesn't matter how big we get; it all starts at the local level. Just like the rededication of the Jews' temple."
"And we managed to talk the cook into making potato pancakes for everyone, too," Mitchell laughed in my ear. Ooh, baby. Laugh away.
Focus, Chelle. This was a good thing. Over three hundred people turned out, and they filled the fifty spaces for that big old jam with the superstars themselves. That was an extra fifty bucks for that honor, remember. Once you do the math, you get a pretty nice $5500 for charity.
And then those ShapeShifter boys topped that. They matched the take, making a cool $11,000.
Eric said his father's church was also going to make a donation in the name of the Riverview Musician's Hanukkah Celebration, and is going to work throughout the year toward getting more of the city's religious folk of all denominations and faiths involved for next year. The funds won't stay in Riverview, either, but are going to Music Lives, a foundation that spreads the wealth and the message across the country. This is important, Mitchell told me, "because without music in the schools, some of us won't get to sing in the choir and find out that we can do more than croak. That's what I got out of choir. That and the chance to be around all those girls in their concert best. Man, that alone made being in the choir worth it."
So, c'mon. This is one bandwagon worth jumping on, and go figure that it's ShapeShifter leading the way. Again. Y'all laugh at my face, tellin' me I'm nothin' but a ShapeShifter groupie, but if they're doin' stuff that's this good, why aren't you one, too?
You heard it first and you heard it here: Musical Hanukkah Celebrations are going to be sweeping the country. Get involved now.
(a note from Susan: While Chelle LaFleur, our slightly single-minded journalist, and ShapeShifter are as fake as the Musical Hanukkah Celebration, the Music Lives Foundation isn't. Endorsed by Paul McCartney and Fidelity Investments, they're helping keep music in our community's schools. Check out their website; read the stats about how music helps our children. And if you've got an extra $50, for the price of a jam with ShapeShifter, you can make a positive impact on the world. If you can't do fifty, do what you can; their minimum is five. Go on. Skip that latte and donate instead. And be sure to tell them you heard about them here.)
Labels: challenge, charity, Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, donate, fiction, Hanukkah, music, musicians, rock and roll
