Friday, September 14, 2012

The Morning Reign Return, 2012


The Morning Reign
Bob Baker, Ric Seaberg, Craig "Cac"Chastain, Gene "Geno" Heliker, Doug "Shadow" Heatherington


"The Morning Reign" rock band, of which I was a member, was founded by five Willamette University students and one Oregon College of Education student in 1966, as I have railed on about on this blog several times. My 2005 entry, “The Morning Reigns”, clears up the universal controversy about the fact that another group of the same name was doing business about the same time in California. Other entries mention experiences we Reign Guys enjoyed during the time we were together, 1966-1972. In sum, 12 young men played in the band over time.

I have really missed all those guys over the years. There is something magical and memorable about that time in my life, not just the attention were were getting, and the music itself, but I think, most importantly, the comraderie we shared was pretty much of a miracle. Just imagine, 6 guys, around 20 years old, and that is young!, in a basement, working so closely together to make a song sound good. “What’s that chord you’re playing right before the bridge Bob?. Is that a B? Would you try a Bsus, that’s gonna sound way better I think”, that kinda stuff. 

We all had our place in the band. Craig, aka “Cac” was our leader, he was the oldest, had actually graduated from Willamette, did the official stuff, took the calls and made business decisions, and handled the money. Looking back, and knowing him as I do, I can tell you that Cac was always a great President of The Morning Reign. He was honest, kind, hard working, and, I should add, (and this is truly agreed upon by all who know him), funny as hell. None of us could ever have asked for a better big brother. Craig played rhythm and lead guitar, and sang.

Doug, aka “Shad” our second oldest member, who had also graduated from Willamette, played bass, and did lots of other things for the band, including wardrobe care. Doug was always spearheading the loading of the equipment after the gig while I was off slacking and talking to females. This tended to piss Doug off. Doug played a mean and driving bass, and has a funny streak of his own. I made a wedding cake for Doug once, and also was best man at his wedding. I love that guy.

Gene, aka “Geno”, is rightfully acknowledged as the musical director of The Morning Reign. Gene is unendingly talented, is charming, funny, (we’re all funny), can fake a killer English accent, (well not really but he’ll try it on you if he is 20 and thinks you’ll buy it). Gene and I wrote most of the original tunes we did in The Reign. We wrote alone and together, but almost always contributed something to each other’s songs. Gene plays lead guitar. And if you aren’t sure what to play, he’ll show you, always kindly and with encouragement. Oh wait I forgot to mention that Gene is an incredibly good singer, some a’those fuckers have it all. 

Bob Baker, above left, was our first keyboard player, and played with us for several years. Bob can hold his own on the keys, but his biggest strength, besides bein’ so damn cute, is his killer singing voice. Im not sure but I think the guy might have perfect pitch, and we would have him share the high harmony parts with Cac, which those guys consistently nailed. When Bob was called to the military, we struggled until we found another capable player. Bob has lived most of his adult life in small town Eastern Oregon. He looks and acts ridiculously healthy, and he will probably live to be 150.

We had five drummers over The Reign Years, but Howard Holland and Steven Tate were in the band longest. Both Howard and Steve can play with the best of them. And Steve is the best singing drummer I ever heard. Even better than Levon Helm, rest his soul. 

And lastly there’s me, I’m the singer, or as Cac used to sarcasically yet lovingly call me prior to the ravages of time, “face man”.

And I cannot fail to mention our good friend and keys magician Larry Sieber, our last keyboard player, who unfortunately passed away in 2010. Larry and I were very close. During The Reign Years, Lare and I were sometimes at odds. But it turned out, as the years went by, and we got real jobs and families, we had more and more in common, particularly being handy with tools, and we both spoke handyman and construction fluently. I miss Larry terribly. Yet another funny Reign guy. And oh man could he talk. I read a poem at Lare’s funeral, and I swear to you it was the hardest thing I have ever done. 

Enter Salem, Oregon film maker Chuck Stenberg, who emailed me a couple years ago looking for Reign information, since he was anticipating his making of a documentary about early NW rock. As the months passed, we Reign members were interviewed for his film, and then, Chuck settled on the main topic of a film highlighting the career of our friend Ed Dougherty, who has been operating as a promoter in this area going on 50 years!! Back in the day, we played hundreds of dates for Ed. 

An hour of Chuck’s awesome film is going to be shown on October 20th at the gig described in the poster below. And get this.... The Morning Reign, that’s us!, are rehearsing to play a rockin’ 40 minute set. Meeting with the guys a couple days ago and running through our song selections (what we are gonna play is a secret) was so great I can't begin to describe it. Suffice it to say the The Morning Reign are on a tear, and we are going to blow your mind. 



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Sunday, June 03, 2012

Wait 'til You See



Sometime in 1968, my old band, the Morning Reign, traveled to LA to appear on the awesome TV show, "Happening 68", in a band contest, as I have mentioned before on this blog. Prior to hitting the road, we had successfully booked a few dates in LA, to keep us busy while we were on the road. We played a prom for Kasey Kasem, whose daughter was graduating from high school, and a couple other random dates. One evening we backed up The Box Tops, on a high school stage with other LA bands, and played to a throng of appreciative teeny boppers. Then we ran to our vehicle like the Beatles. It was awesome.

After the gig a couple of gentlemen, Mark Wildey, who had produced The Kingsmen, and Joey Paige, a recording artist and producer, approached us to record some of our songs ASAP, and we went into the studio the very next day in LA to lay down a few tunes, on their dime. Also awesome. After returning to Portland, we sent more original material to LA, including a song I had written and was especially high on titled "Wait 'til You See". We heard back shortly from them that, along with other songs they had chosen at publishing houses for us to record, they wanted us to record "Wait 'til You See". Completely awesome. A song of mine recorded in a pro studio with pro recording peeps!

It was a blast recording the song, there at "Nashville West Recording Studios", (where the Iron Butterfly had recorded IN-A-GADA-DA-VITA), in LA, in 1969, with my troops. The recording garnered some interest from RCA, and may have become a hit later for the Turtles, or The Morning Regin, but alas, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. That incarnation of The Reign included Gene Heliker, Craig Chastain, Doug Heatherington, Bob Baker, Howard Holland, and me. The producers of this session also brought in a trombone player and an additional pianist.

A friend of mine, Chuck Stenberg, has recently been kind enough to transfer all the old Morning Reign lost tapes into mp3 files, now you're in trouble. Here is "Wait 'til You See". Of course the tapes had been lying in a closet for over 40 years, so the quality surely isn't what it was when first recorded. But I know you'll get the idea.

Click here to play the song "Wait 'til You See"

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Monday, February 27, 2012

The Blessing and Curse of Consciousness



Damn it to Hell. Our precious little 10 year old Bichon Frise, Pippi, shown above when she was a pup, is fixin' to slip this mortal coil, having received the diagnosis of terminal
cancer a month ago. Pip has been such a fantastic dog, super smart, playful, (even now), a real gift of a pet and a shining light in our family structure. Every night, when Blaine gets home from work, she runs to him like a long lost friend, and licks the ever lovin' snot off him, after having launched herself onto his lap from a suitable chair. We are going to miss her terribly when we finally have to put her to sleep. Shit.

Pip has been an inspiration to me in my creative life, as I've watched her from puppydom through her transition into an adult. I am her master. She always comes to me
first, relies on me as her primary human, or as they say in Bichon circles, her "hudad" and spends a lot of time on my lap, squeezed next to my computer, receiving what I
call her snuggily buggilies, there I go again being a doting baby talkin' ridiculous dog owner. 

 Pip inspired my tune "The Bichon Song", yet another nichey Seaberg novelty, but which appears as my second most purchased song on iTunes, owing to the legions of awesome Bichon owners who love their "little white pets" as much as we do. And now, I present to you, in collaboration with my sick and perfect Pipster, a new rockin' little ditty titled "The Blessing and Curse of Consciousness", please listen with earbuds or headphones. 

Dogs. They are just the most fantastic creatures. Man, and woman's best friend. No offense to you lovely cat lovers. What a delightful and wonderful bond we have formed with Pippi Longstocking Deatherage Seaberg. I dedicate this song to her. 

 C'mon Pip let's get you a treat.

 Click here to listen to The "Blessing and Curse of Consciousness"

 My story in annoying detail:

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Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Don't Tell Jen

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Thursday, December 29, 2011

Green Tea!


I have been a coffee drinker for all of my adult life. Love the stuff. The fragrance of fresh ground beans, give me a break. Nothing like it. I like to buy a pound bag of, oh, say, Stumptown Coffee's "Hair Bender", and then, while I am putting the groceries away in the kitchen, just open that sucker up, and reef up a few capital nose hits right off the bag to torture myself til I get a cup made.

But long about turning 50, coffee started kinda buggin' the tummy, with it's acid content, so I started slowing down a bit, and then, had a full blown episode or two of GERD, look it up, it hurts, it's scary, it's your stomach saying, stop fucking with me, you're old now. Marie brought me home some green tea to try, much to my skeptical dismay, I mean much to the skeptical dismay of Mr. Acid Stomach Can't Drink Coffee Weepy Depressed Brooding Old Guy, Moi.

One Sunday morning, we brewed up a cup, she had her regular latte, and then we sat in the garden trying to wake up, she, enjoying the fresh hot perfect beeyotch latte, and me over here with my no more coffee for life jail sentence green tea.

I drank that cup down, and as we awoke 'midst the chirping of birds and the fragrance of our summer garden, I suddenly realized, I felt like I had a jolt of caffeine in me. I was all talkative, and of course, my first thought was, holy shit, green tea is fucking good! It might even be great! I think I'll have another cup!! So I drank another, and fully discovered, on that day, that the English aren't so damn stupid after all. Tea rules! And also Elspeth Huxley, she's English, wrote The Flame Trees of Thika.

I could go on and on about the discoveries I have made about green tea over time, it's medicinal qualities, the fact that it doesn't bother my stomach, how I've learned to love the taste and the mellow glow I get from it in the morning (and evening), but I am typing this on my iPhone with my index finger so let me just say, discovering green tea and enjoying it so much has been just great. For me. Here's the wikipedia entry for green tea.

So I like to share the news, though I am certain I do not possess the fundamentalist gene so you, you can take it or leave it, whatever. For me, wow, it's been a blessing. I still drink coffee, one cup, half decaf, almost everyday, but I'm really a green tea guy.

So my pal Grant, that guy up there with me in our kitchen, has been contemplating cutting down on the coffee. So I offered to show him my green tea routine tonight, and fed him some red meat too, cuz we're both grizzled and hardcore iron pumpin' dees dems and dose kinda lumberjack types.

When Grant arrived, I started my primer by showing him my green tea, which I purchase at Portland's Foxfire Teas on SE 11th. I really like the owners, Quinn and Katherine, and they have a nice store, great service, and tea knowledge. "Tea is Fun", is their motto, and they're right!

The way I make my tea is by putting a teaspoon of loose leaf tea (I'm now using "Jade Fire") into a 2-cup Pyrex measurer with cold water. Then I microwave it on high for 3 minutes. Then I wait a few minutes, and then pour it through a small strainer into a large mug. I immediately put the leaves back into the Pyrex container with water and start it in the microwave, so it will be ready when I've finished drinking my first cup. Most days I toss an ice cube in that first cup, cuz I'm a no nonsense gotta move dude and I've got shit to accomplish, and I want my tea to be the right temperature to drink NOW!




















The photo on your left is the teaspoon of loose leaf tea floating on top prior to microwaving. The photo on the right is post microwaving, with the tea leaves starting to unfurl and flavor the water.



Ok so I'm certain there are tea aficionados who may read this blog and pass out cold when they see how I make tea. I dunno. Not too formal over here I guess. But I sure love that green tea!
Try it! Especially if that coffee is taking its toll on you. Thanks for reading this. Now go get some good loose leaf green tea!!

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Friday, December 23, 2011

I Love To Vomit




Every summer, for the last few years, my daughters Stacey and Amy have kindly allowed us to host our 3 grand daughters, Caitlyn, Caledonia, and Ellery, for several fun filled and Disney channeled days. Here they are, pictured with Marie, who anticipates their arrival all year long, dreaming up crafty and messy stuff to to, which leaves

us with wonderful memories and, occasionally, a paint spattered deck table. Last summer, we also visited the new Wings and Waves water park in McMinnville, Oregon, which features an actual Boeing 747 sitting atop the structure. It was a blast.

Time can move a bit slowly sometimes for the young ones, I mean, with all that
energy and free time, but we keep them busy. Well, ok, with a nod to Hannah Montana.

This past summer, on, oh, maybe the second day of their visit, Caitlyn, (pictured on the right) my daughter Stacey's youngest child, got all crafty. At some point during the day, as I sat in my easy chair, dozing off on some kiddy sit com, Cate handed each of us a fan she had made, pretty much like the one I've recreated above, and instructed us to write something about ourselves on each fold of the fan. Then, I guess, you read them out loud and maybe learn something about a person, or even, heh, get a laugh.

I wrote down a few things right away with my Sharpie, drives a van, owned a bakery, some other stuff, but when I got to the last fold, that mischievous part of grandpa came out, as I scrawled, knowing fully it'd be well noticed, "Loves To Vomit". I had almost forgotten about it when, a couple hours later, Catey held it up in my face, and with a look that said, "grandpa, you've finally lost it", announced loudly to the room, all giggly, "Grandpa loves to vomit!!" Of course, turning over this kind of info to three little girls aged 6-9 is going to get you some hoots, and basically, non-stop attention for 48 hours or so. Bingo!!

Some weeks later, oh Lord, say it isn't so, I heard a little chorus come down, and punched it into my iPhone, just for safe keeping, and then, as I walked the dogs, said to myself, "Nope, not gonna happen. There cannot be a song in this world written by me that is titled I Love To Vomit. I mean, surely this is something that even Ric Seaberg cannot abide".

But that dang little chorus kept coming in, and I had to admit, when I sang it, I laughed, and thought about how others (well, Cate, Calla and Ellery!!) might laugh too, having been there when the original I Love To Vomit caper went down, there in the TV room at Grandpa Ric's and Grandma Marie's crib.

So well, now the song is complete, having been written, recorded, and sung by me. My buddy Tim Ellis, my loyal and adequately nutty guitarist, is just the greatest for joining me in my, shall we say, less than mainstream numbers, and as you'll hear, once again, nails this sucker.

The process of writing a song, and going down the path of crafting the song so that it says what you want it to say, and sounds good, as you add instrumentation and vocals along the way, is just the bomb, for me anyway, and is a thread that has been running through my life since I was 13 years old. You get the basics recorded, drums, bass, a scratch lead vocal, and then the surprises start to happen. "Oh my God that falsetto harmony part on the chorus is perfect! Tim, that signature part you put in the second verse, I love it! Lets put it in all the verses!'. That kinda thing.

But something especially awesome happened this time, as the process of recording "I Love to Vomit" continued. One evening, after Tim had played his parts, I sat Marie down to listen to the song for the first time. I explained to her how, well, I knew it was really weird, and that I knew I was surely out of my ever lovin' gourd, I mean, to write and actually record such a song, and I admit, she pretty much had a look of agreement on her grille.

Near the end of the song, there appears a rap section, where the singer makes an even stronger case, admonishing the listener to do all things that might lead one to enjoy the finer pleasures of hurling. After I played Marie the song, and she had a better idea of where I was going with it, she said, "Okay honey, firstly, i know you very well, and I can attest to the fact that of all the people I have ever met, you are the person who hates to vomit most. Secondly, you have definitely and completely lost it, you are mad, I married a crazy person, you have catapulted yourself completely and utterly off the deep end this time and.....I'll do the rap."

Marie loves rap, and I sometimes hear the lilting sounds of Eminem or some other rap god blaring out of her home office as she answers email or writes tracts of her own. Or I will be sitting in the kitchen, and the bass line of one of her many rap selections will rattle the fire extinguisher which hangs on the kitchen wall, as I sit, wide eyed, crunching down an asian pear. So I knew it was a natural. And it took about one second for me to say, YESSSSS, you do the rap, PLEASE do the rap!!!!!!!!

I thought she might need a little extra inspiration, I mean as we each contemplated her impending rap performance, so I went online and bought her some gear, which she can be seen modeling here. Ah, Marie. My pluperfect spousal enigma. One minute, worried to death over whether or not the birds in our backyard greenway are getting enough to eat as we enter winter. The next minute, thrown' down some sorta gang signs on her husband's blog. On the street, they call her Marie D. Chill a.k.a. Luscious Money. Here's an interview with Luscious.


It's Christmas week, 2011. I am going to say right here and now that this song is not a Christmas present to my grand daughters. But we love them so much, and they do all figure into the creation of this wacky thing, so I hereby dedicate the song to them. Cate, Calla, and Ellery, you rock. And well........ so do we. I mean me, and Luscious Money.

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Sunday, November 20, 2011

Christmas 1949





Before there was reel to reel audiotape, and cassette tape, and 8 track audiotape, and CDs, and other forms of digital recording, there was "wire recording". People would buy wire recorders, mostly portable size, (but heavy as hell) like the one shown above, or even consoles, like the one shown below, and then, through through the miracle of modern technology, pull out a little mic, and record, using the machine, while a thin wire, like a really thin picture wire, would spool by. Much like the later tape recording machine, only with wire instead of tape. We had such a machine in our home, console style, almost exactly like the one shown here, when I was very small, and a good supply of these little wire containing boxes, available at Sears and other

fine electronics stores. My grandparents lived in Chicago, where I was born in June 1948, but my folks had settled in Portland, Oregon. My sisters Elaine and Julie came along later. My folks were tight with my Dad's parents, and they would visit at least once a year, though in those days the trip was more difficult, I mean, even by noisy propeller aircraft. But during the months that my grandmother, Hildur, and my step-grandfather, J. Edward Martin, were in Chicago, one way we all stayed in touch was by, you guessed it, the wire!

We would gather round the wire recording machine, on say, someone's birthday, or a holiday, or when my Dad got a raise, or I had a song to sing, and record onto the wire, which would then be sent off to Chicago, for Hildur and Ed's edification, and pleasure. We would get back a tape now and then, my grandma going on about their latest trip to Europe or the Orient, or the turmoil in The Christian Science Church hierarchy.

When my grandfather Ed passed away in 1978, my grandmother moved to Portland, and I swear, brought every little gadget and morsel of her entire life with her. Like shoe boxes full of those little rain bonnetty things ladies used to get at cosmetic counters and tire stores as schwag. But luckily, one thing she brought that received great approval, by me especially, being an audiophile, was all those wires my folks sent off to her when my sisters and I were little. Bonanza! There is nothing quite like hearing the sound of your own voice, and personality, at say, 5 or 8 years old. I hope I have mellowed some since those days of being a loud mouthed egomaniacal little boy, but really, when I hear myself on those wires, I feel compassion for the child. I like him. I want to help him. I'm glad I AM him.


Christmas Day, 1949. Ricky is 18 months old. My folks, Lorraine and Bob, and my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Clair, are gathered on Pine Street in SE Portland where we lived. The house, photographed here in 1949, still stands. The fragrance of strong Swedish egg coffee and fresh Oregon Douglas Fir fills the air. The wire recorder is switched on. "What's that, Ricky?"


So I humbly present to you the original wire recording of Christmas at The Seabergs 1949- https://ricseaberg.com/track/1960888/christmas-day-1949 And here are are couple more photos of me when I was a kid. I mean to placate my egomaniacal streak.







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Monday, November 14, 2011

Freaky Irrational Whiner


Turns out, I kinda like the tv show Bridezillas. Where they find these folks, I dunno. But even if the producers make it very clear that they want controversy and tell the brides to be as bitchy as they possibly can, still, they blow my mind. The gal pictured above, maybe she got a layer of lemon cake on the wrong tier. Good reason to try to make everyone around you miserable on your wedding day I guess.

But the real reason I wrote a song titled Freaky Irrational Whiner is that my friend Jim was complaining one day about some mundane thing, not even like real complaining, and then called himself an irrational whiner. So just to tease him, i said, "dude you're a freaky irrational whiner." Those words rolled offa the tongue so nicely, and since I am a song writer, and a humorist of average intelligence, a song was born. Thanks Jim.

And lest some of you may think I am somehow given to misogyny, or that my lyrics have somehow been inspired by my own wife's behavior, well, I can't help what you think. I fabricated the story in the song just to use the title. Marie loves Bridezillas too, and rubs my shoulders when we watch it. Oh man, Marie, she is a rational and wonderful partner, and only complains when I turn the basement light off on her. And when contractors and gardeners wreck her plants.

Tim Ellis and I have now recorded over 150 of my songs together. I can't thank Timmy enough for his magnificent guitar parts, which basically turn my tune smithing into actual songs. His parts on Freaky Irrational Whiner, which you can listen to for free here, are kinda like crack. Tim is no guitar playin' amateur. He is kind of a whiner though.


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Friday, November 11, 2011

That's One Hell of an RV Park

That's Marie and I in the photo above, sitting pretty in some lovely Oregon RV park, a couple years ago. We love our Airstream, as I have waxed on about here many times, and even took the tripod along, apparently, to catch Ma and Pa Kettle at their most relaxed.

Last summer Marie's side of the family staged a large family reunion, in southern Oregon, where Marie grew up. We thought about taking down the trailer, but this time we thought we'd take two separate vehicles, since Marie's mom Ethel had been staying with us for a few days just before the reunion. My son Blaine and I took my rig, my Sprinter, which is fully equipped for a disabled guy like Blaine, with a powerful lift on the side and a van seat made just right for him to transfer into from his wheelchair.

Blaine and I stayed at the Seven Feather's Casino, in Canyonville, Oregon, while Marie and Ethel stayed at Marie childhood home in Cottage Grove. It was a whirlwind stay, with Blaine and I actually winning at the casino, then there was the reunion, and we all ended up in Cottage Grove at Mom's where we did some fixin' for granny. On the last day at the casino, I mentioned to Blaine that I had seen that a large RV park was under construction at the casino site, on the mountainside, and that I wanted to drive up there before we left Canyonville to check it out. We had some breakfast, loaded our gear and our fortune, and headed over to The Seven Feather's RV Resort. As we entered, we could see that about half the park was already finished, and loaded with RVs, a beautiful lodge looking swimming facility, lush landscaping, man, the works. Just a beautiful RV park, which gets me all fired up, because I love trailers and Airstreams and the whole schtick, and am also given to bingeing into superlatives, owing to the fact that I am my father.

Anyway, lest I go on and on about it here, I mean about how absolutely awesome The Seven Feather's RV Resort is, suffice it to say that it is just well, absolutely awesome.

Some weeks later, I heard a little melody come down, and before you know it, a new song was born, and that's just how that happens. After I laid down the rhythm tracks, using software and Garageband, my friend and magnificent guitarist Tim Ellis came over. We had a great day today, recording his parts on four songs. Hope you like this one.


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Friday, September 23, 2011

Mayhem at the Guggenheim


My friend Randy McCullough, a very good songwriter and bassist from Austin, recently moved to New York with his wife Barbara, who transfered there for her job. Randy has been enjoying himself, I can tell, by his frequent emails and stories of their life residing within walking distance of Central Park. He sends me songs, I send him songs. I miss Randy. I'm glad they're having a great time in New York.

Ran's latest email included the story of their recent trip to The Guggenheim Museum (of modern art) with a visiting relative. I just cracked up as I read the story, which started with a certain enthusiasm for the sightseeing day ahead, and ended with Ran slipping on something and planting his foot squarely on a work of art, much to the shock and awe of other museum patrons. As they climbed the staircase to see other art, they could look behind them, and as far as three floors up, still see the footprint he had left on the canvas sheet he had defaced.

The second I finished reading his email I began writing the words to a new song, "Mayhem at the Guggenheim", which was the subject of his email. I pulled out my laptop, cranked up my bluegrass band, and recorded the tune. Click on the title below to hear it. Headphones or earbuds please!

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Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Pee Bottle Song


I'm tryin' to have a good attitude about getting older. I'm 63 now, Social Security has kicked in, and I can get the Patty Melt at Dennys for half price. Mostly, I'm doin' pretty good. The brain is working quite well. It's the bod that has its problems. I'm not gonna go into those problems here. I have plenty of cronies to commiserate with. There is a sudden Fellowship of Infirmity Sharing that forms right about this age.

But I have always loved to cut up, and laugh, and still do. When I was about 40, and just beginning to feel the affects of aging, like say, occasional stiffness, I saw an older person on TV quip that, when he gets down on his knees for some reason, before he gets up, he asks himself if there is anything else he can do while he's down there! This totally cracked me up, since I could already identify, and I have been giggling about aging ever since.

So I hope you will enjoy my latest musical endeavor, which is a rockin' little number, and written for my baby booming friends with the ol' weakening bladder. Man I wish I didn't have to pee so often.

My Buddy Tim Ellis, who is a magnificently accomplished musician, plays guitars on this tune. He didn't balk when I asked him to play on this recording, so that makes him at least partly responsible for this song being in the world.

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Sunday, August 14, 2011

Man Cave Sunday


The only thing I like about the days growing shorter in summer is the fact that football is just around the corner. When I was younger I loved to play football, and now, watching it is almost as good as playing was. Pro, college, high school, intramural, all of it. I just plain love the sport.

After I became an adult, I realized also that, along with the crisp fall air and apple cider, one could receive other fine gifts during football season, like the killer tailgate party or, as I have recently taken to calling it, man cave sunday. Man cave sunday is described as the moment when all your buddies, (girls allowed) come over to your sweet man cave and eat, drink, and watch a football game, say, when your alma mater is playing, or your home town team. The adult beverages flow, the sushi rocks, the chicks are wearin' tube tops, and the hollerin' is heard for blocks. What a blast. I wrote a song about it. Tim Ellis plays guitars. That's Danny Shauffler, the crazed Crazy Eights sax man on sax. Dude can blow.


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Saturday, July 16, 2011

Bed Bugs


Ok so maybe the whole bed bug scare is nothing more that another case of "worst case scenario news". I mean, the media goes off ad nauseum about any number of things that turn out to be not so bad after all, maybe this is one of'em. Still, every time I hear a bed bug story, some poor soul has to burn his house down to get rid of his bed bugs, or some neighborhood has to be fumigated, or a whole hotel, yuck. We've had enough trouble with ants over the last few years, and I know I don't want any of those critters in my bed.

So I'm driving along listening to NPR a couple weeks ago, and I am enjoying the Rick Steve's show. He interviewed his own son, who apparently travels and writes too, and then Rick interviewed an owner of a Youth Hostel. During the conversation, this fellow brought up the subject of bed bugs, and how they have been a real problem in the Youth Hostels, not his of course. But I was a bit taken aback, I mean, not really good advertising for the Youth Hostels of the world. Thought I'd write a song about it. Heh.



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Wednesday, May 04, 2011

KNIGHTZ


1962. I am in the eighth grade. Mom dropped me off one morning in the tiny Atkinson parking lot, on a warm Spring Portlandia day. I strode in my black low top converse and white socks toward the school door, and suddenly, I saw, to the right, our grade school principal, the perky and respectable Mr. Petersen, whom my mother spoke highly of. Mr. Peterson stood around 6’ tall and had a big brown styin’ haircut. “Well, Ric!”, he spoke as I passed, “just a second.” Mr. Petersen locked his car door and walked toward me, with a warm smile. “I want to talk to you Ric”, he spoke. “So it’s almost time for graduation, Ric,” Mr. P said, and stuck his hand out to shake mine, white guy style. “Ric, you’re a great kid, and it has been a real pleasure and honor being your principal these past years. Now you’re going off to high school, and you are really gonna make your mark up there. I just bet a day will come when I will hear that you are the student body president of that high school! So let’s get our day started shall we?" We walked into the school his arm over my shoulder, very warm and encouraging but not weird at all. I felt special.

So I go to high school, and I did become the vice president of the senior class, and I did run for class president once, but I was sick in the hospital, no kidding, when running for office speeches were given, and lost. But the other guy was gonna win anyway cuz he was more popular and also had the mo.

And during high school I was president of a YMCA high school club named KNIGHTZ, which I had joined almost like one joins a fraternity. I was elected president of KNIGHTZ by my peers, so I did spend some time runnin’ shit. But what I was thinking about tonight was, that each letter in KNIGHTZ stood for something. Kindness. Nobility. I cant remember. (maybe intitiative) Generosity. Humility. Tolerance. Zeal. I was driving down the road and I suddenly thought, geez, if everyone would just drive kindly, generously, with tolerance, there wouldn’t be any wrecks. Or way less, he said to the skeptics. And these words have rung true in my ears all these years, and I believe I have held these values up in my mind, and thought of them as something to live up to. Crazy. But striving to be in “KNIGHTZ, to be a member, turns out to be a really good thing. And Mr. Peterson’s kindness! Wow. What a star, makin’ a kid feel good about himself.

So I’m just sayin’ this stuff cuz it just reminds me to be kind, and generous, and tolerant, and to be nice to the kids and take a minute to tell them they’re great. I mean, so they don’t turn into Crabby Appleton. Mr. Petersen, Yo! The words you said to me that day, I dunno, I can’t remember exactly how it went. But I remember your eyes, and I remember that you told me I was doin’ good. I have remembered that moment and attempted to live up to your expectations all my life. Good move.



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Sunday, May 01, 2011

The Coffee Song



I have been working on these lyrics for over 5 years, just wanted to share. We do need our waker-upper, eh?

The Coffee Song
Copyright Ric Seaberg 2011

Americano latte macchiato breve, bring me some caffeine please
Frappuccino 6 shot, sugar free, extra hot'n one of those Chinese teas
We don' work for nothin', we got bills to pay
But if you ask why I do it, this is what I'll say.......
Chorus
I'm jus' keepin' my Starbucks card in the black
That's why I do it, that's why I break my back
t'keep my Starbucks card in the black

Roll me outa bed yo, grande espresso, to get me back on track,
If you wanna treat me, then you can meet me, down at the coffee shack
I got some mean expenses....I guess that says it all
And when I'm on my knees today, workin’ in the driving rain
Chorus
Solo
Bridge
I don' need no mansion, no Mercedes Benz
All I need to satisfy, is the last and greatest legal high!!

Americano latte macchiato breve, bring me some caffeine please
Frappuccino 6 shot, sugar free, extra hot'n one of those Chinese teas
I try hard to wreck my jeans, yet another pair
Well I may not get rich this way, but I don't really care.....

Chorus, then
Last chorus
I'm jus' keepin' my, keepin' my Starbucks card in the black
That's why I do it, that's why I break my back
t'keep my Starbucks card in the black



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