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Thom Dunn is a Boston-based writer, musician, and utterly terrible dancer. He is the singer/guitarist for the indie rock/power-pop the Roland High Life, as well as a staff writer for the New York Times’ Wirecutter and a regular contributor at BoingBoing.net. Thom enjoys Oxford commas, metaphysics, and romantic clichés (especially when they involve whiskey), and he firmly believes that Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" is the single greatest atrocity committed against mankind. He is a graduate of Clarion Writer's Workshop at UCSD ('13) & Emerson College ('08).

The new Roland High Life album is out today! →

Well folks, it’s been about a decade since we last released or performed any music … but the new 5-song EP from my indie rock band the Roland High Life is now available on Spotify, iTunes/Apple Music, BandCamp, and everywhere else you might want to find your tunes!

We arranged and recorded all of these songs over a single weekend at a house in Vermont. They weren’t fully written that weekend — me and Walker, my co-front-man for the band, had been working on songs intermittently that we’d share with each other. But we put them all together, arranged them, and recorded the tracks pretty quickly on our own. For a self-produced work in a basement in Vermont, I’m pretty god damn proud of the work that we pulled off, and I’m very much looking forward to what’s next for the band.

I wrote this song about a few people I know in real life who have succumbed to the crippling addiction of fucked up Trumpian conspiracy theories. I think the Americana-blues-punk vibe we landed with here really encapsulates our vision for the future of the band. The song also explicitly references David Graeber’s economic theory on Bullshit Jobs, which I think everyone should read.

This is a Walker jam (aka my best friend, and the other lead singer in the band). He had sent me an acoustic demo of this a few years back, and I think we landed in a pretty rad Jimmy Eat World-esque area in this. It’s a banger for sure, helped along by Chris the Drummer laying down a sick bass line.

I had originally imagined this as more of an AJJ-esque folk punk song; you can find my solo version of it on Spotify as well. It’s a lot more politically direct than our other Roland High Life thus far (even when we have gotten political), but I think we hit on something good here. Walker convinced me to play it like a Springsteen song that my audience already knew, and that’s exactly how we recorded it. I also threw down some mandolin and lap steel guitar on this track, to really mix it up.

This is actually an older Roland High Life song that we never quite recorded right. I’m not sure if this one is perfect, either — maybe a little too slow — but it’s still the best we have so far. It’s a love song to my cherry red Gibson Les Paul Junior, and I definitely accomplished what I set out to do (i.e., writing a song about loving music that’s also overly sexualized in a weird way). I originally wrote this at a time in my life when I was prone to over-complicating songs, but I do think that the look-at-me-i’m-so-clever music theory games that go on in here are still pretty cool.

Another Walker jam, this one started off as more of a Billy Joel knockoff, and Walker wasn’t sure if it would fit with our rock vibe. But Chris, our drummer, said that he’d been listening to lots of Teenage Fan Club lately, and as soon as he said that, I was hit with a Teenage Fan Club-style version of the song in my head. Or at least, that’s what we were going for; the final product is a little more ambient power-pop, and very much us, which makes it even better.

Plus that snare drop right before the second verse is sick.



So uhhhhh I just signed with a literary agent? So that's cool?

That's right: I just signed with a literary agent! The Kepner Agency was so impressed with my Irish Boston supernatural punk rock noir tentatively titled Pints of 'Gansett Make You Strong  that they want to make something happen with it!

Excuse me while I go dance over here in the corner.

In the meantime, you can listen to the official unofficial Pints of 'Gansett Make You Strong soundtrack to tide you over, 'cause publishing takes a while.

REVIEW: King Dork by "Doctor" Frank Portman

I gave this 4 stars on GoodReads but it's really a 3.5. I'm generously rounding up because it reminded me of my excitement when I got to open up for Dr. Frank's band, the Mr T Experience, in high school.

Overall, I really enjoyed King Dork. Tom was a funny narrator in his anti-Holden-Caulfield-but-still-so-Holden-Caulfield way, and as a former aspiring punk rock star myself, I definitely saw a lot of me and my high school friends in the story. That being said, I was disappointed with the exposition-y ending. As a writer myself, I was somewhat bothered the whole time through with how much of the story was told in summary exposition, but I was willing to give it a pass because it makes sense diagetically with the narrator that this is how he would convey this story (similar to Holden Caulfield in that way). But Tom's main two journeys -- Fiona, and the relationship with his dead father -- were literally summed up and resolved without any effort on his part (even his hospitalization, though it certainly made sense that he wouldn't have a good memory of the specific events leading up to it, was so blasé: "and then I was hospitalized for a month because I got beat up NBD.").

All that being said: it's probably a good book to help get adolescents into classic books and help with their vocabularies (and the glossary was *hilarious*).

Also, the women in the book left...much to be desired. In some ways (again, diagetically, that is, within the world of the story), I got it, because it was absolutely how a 14 year old King Dork would probably talk about and depict women. It certainly sounded like some of my friends at 14, anyway. But as an adult feminist male, it was a little, well, exactly the kind of subtle misogyny that people are finally and rightfully paying attention to, and I wish had been approached with a more deft hand.

Anyway, here's the MTX song "King Dork," which actually has very little to do with the book (which I assume was named more for brand recognition than anything else, as this is generally seen as one of Dr. Frank's "hits," if you will).

Joe Strummer's Original Handwritten Lyrics For "London Calling"

The late Joe Strummer would have been 62 years old today, and probably just as pissed off at the world as he ever was. To celebrate, here are his original handwritten lyrics for "London Calling."

The future's still unwritten, boyo.

The future's still unwritten, boyo.

And as a little added bonus, here's the Joe Strummer version of "London Calling" from the 2003 Grammy Awards, featuring Bruce Springsteen, Dave Grohl, Elvis Costello, and pretty much everyone else ever.

Attack of the Literal Grammar Nazis

Today on "Idiotic Psychopaths Desperately Hoping For Public Relations Damage Control," following on the recent news of the NRA asking their members to maybe not show off their Open Carry rights by "casually" bringing assault rifles into restaurants even though it is technically legal in some places, my buddy Jake retweeted a cryptic link from Heeb Magazine, which in turn led me to this remarkable gem:

Yes, that is a tweet from the actual real-life official twitter of the American Nazi Party, in which they are being fascistic about grammar. They are literally Grammar Nazis.

Perhaps more disturbingly, I agree with them. Good grammar IS important. I share personal philosophical beliefs with the American Nazi Party. This realization was slightly disconcerting, of course, so I decided to peruse their Twitter feed to see what other kinds of causes they tweet in support of. Things like...animal rights...sustainable organic foods...they're vocally pro-life...and encourage a straight edge lifestyle (less surprising than it should be)...they're anti-corporation, and support local businesses....ooh, and they also love Moms! Er, wait a second...

Okay well then so ignoring that last little hashtag there, and the swastika, and the specification of "Aryan" moms above all, maybe Neo-Nazis aren't so bad? It seems they care about a lot of the same things I care about, or the things that people like me care about. That's kind of weird, right?

Oh. Well. Nevermind. We're now back to your regularly scheduled supremacist scumbags. Still, this is certainly a lesson in the banality of evil — that for all my touchy-feely artist progressive politics, I could (unfortunately) find some commonality with the American Nazi Party. And in a weird way, I kind of respect their attempts to police the grammar of their followers. Poor language skills often (though not always) betray a lack of education, and, well, they wouldn't want us got-dayum libaruls to think that modern-day Nazis are ignorant, now, would they?

Ahem. Right. Anyway.

Discovering this horrifying corner of Twitter reminded me of a happy little tune I used to sing with friends when I was just a wee young lad haunting American Legion Halls across Connecticut. It went a little something like this:

REVIEW: Polarity by Max Bemis and Jorge Coelho

Polarity

As much as I enjoy Say Anything (the band fronted by writer Max Bemis), I was hesitant to pick up this comic because, well, the premise sounds exactly like the pseudo-autobiographical premise of their first album "...Is A Real Boy," which kindofsortamaybe chronicled Bemis's descent into super-powered bi-polar disorder -- except that, while recording said album, Max Bemis was actually diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and locked himself up for a while. But, the book was on sale for $4 on ComiXology, so I figured hey, why not.

While I tend to be the kind of person who connects with comic books more the writing than the art (although I do love a good collaboration), I'd first look to say that the artwork on this book is PHENOMENAL. It's slightly cartoonish, but not a childish way, and accurately portrays hyperviolence, superhero action, internal mindscape struggles, and hipster culture. As for the story itself, it didn't shy away from the fact that it was a slight variation on the story that Bemis has told several times already. The basic premise is that Tim is an artist and self-loathing hipster who suffers from bi-polar disorder, and after he's institutionalized and begins taking pills, he can't create his art. So he goes off his medication, and soon discovers that his untreated condition literally gives him superpowers. But maybe he's too dangerous, and maybe there's a Shadowy Government Organization trying to create an army of Bi-Polar Super Soldiers? Meanwhile, his art is getting better, and he meets a girl.

Overall, it's a pretty enjoyable story, and while applying science fictional concepts to mental illness is nothing new, I actually think that Bemis does it in a pretty fresh way -- by essentially saying that yes, mental illness IS a superpower, but the same way that traditional superheroes suffer from their extra-human abilities, maybe it's still better if you take your pills and try to function like a normal person. That being said, I'm not sure how this book would read to someone who was unfamiliar with "hipster" culture. The main character spends a lot of the book criticizing everyone around him for being hypocrites and poseurs, and ultimately realizes that he's just the same as the rest of them. If you're familiar with Say Anything's music, Tim's rants are all basically pulled straight out of the song "Admit it!" As far as cultural critique is concerned, it is an interesting analysis of hipsterdom that I mostly agree with, even if it is a bit misanthropic (which works well in a loud rock song, but feels different as internal monologue).

That being said, I wonder how someone who was outside of or unfamiliar with "hipster culture" would feel about this book. It's very insular, and some might even say that hipsters criticizing hipsters for being hipsters is THE most hipster thing possible, and while the story does acknowledge that irony (while also criticizing irony as the cheapest form of hipster self-defense), it never quite transcends it. I suspect that if you weren't already aware of and/or immersed in that post-art-school-Williamsburg-landscape, you'd think, "Okay, so these are a bunch of Urban Outfitters asshole who are too cool for Urban Outfitters and this main character is kind of an unlikeable dick who judges everyone around him for being fake judgmental assholes -- why should I care?" And if that's you, I might suggest that you're better served by listening to "Woe" and "Admit it!" by Say Anything, which pretty much sum up the book.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Just Dance, Mother&$%#ers!

In case you missed out on seeing Boston's premiere all-male hard rock Lady Gaga cover band at the Midway this past weekend, you're in luck: we got the whole thing on tape! Well, technically on built-on digital flash hardrive but, you know, whatever. The audio quality is a little rough (because isn't it always?), but you get the gist. You can watch a playlist of the full set over on YouTube, but here are a few gems from the night: "You & I"

"Bad Romance" 

Plus we had a few surprises this time in the form of non-Gaga female pop artists (because frankly, Gaga's catalog is kind of limited, and we needed new material). Like this:

New Lady Gaga Song!

In anticipation of this Saturday's Alejandro & the Fame show at the Midway Cafe in JP, we put together another quick demo of one of our songs. So, sorry, this isn't a new Lady Gaga song, but rather a better version of an already existing Lady Gaga song, done by us. This isn't the final mix or master, but it's a good idea of how we rock (and if you really feel like bringing the mosh and punching someone in the face, fast forward about 3 minutes for the breakdown 'cause it's awesome)


Turn It Up, Folkin' Loud!

About a year and a half ago, I had the idea to record an album of classic punk cover songs, done in a folky / bluegrass style. I got most of the demo / scratch tracks down, but then of course, life got in the way, as it often does. But now that I got some fancy new toys in my musical arsenal, I decided to revisit it. And so without any further ado, here's the first track of the album that would (and someday might still) be called Folk In Drublic: "Radio" by Rancid. Except, ya know, with less growls, more banjo and lap steel.

[soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/75025377" params="" width=" 100%" height="166" iframe="true" /]

(Banjo by my buddy Andy Michaels)

Wow. Our Town. Wow. Okay.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPwJ-8cGXpI] I say this with no personal bias -- not because my wonderful girlfriend, the producer of this fine production, has been busting her ass for 10 months to make this show as a reality, and not as an employee of the theatre company that is presenting the show.

David Cromer's production of Our Town at the Huntington is one of the Desert Island All-Time Top 5 Most Moving Shared Communal Experiences I have ever had in my entire life.

Perhaps it's especially poignant for me when I think of the friends that I've lost in recent years, but I watched the show on both Tuesday and Wednesday night, and I couldn't stand to watch it for a third time last night for our opening because I was already so overwhelmed with emotion. Three days in a row, and I think I would be eternally reduced to a sobbing puddle of flesh lying in fetal position on the floor. Yes, this show is so good that I literally could not watch it a third time (although I will probably go back at the end of the run, and hopefully catch some things I missed the other 2 times, because there's so much to see in the nothingness of this production, and as the play itself suggests, we can't possibly appreciate all of it when it's happening).

Anyway, there's a video I made up there about the show. I cannot stress enough how powerful and poignant this production truly is. Our Town might be seen as hokey and sentimental and high school-y to many people (though oddly I grew up in Thornton Wilder's hometown and never read or saw the show once, although I did play lots of shitty punk rock shows at Thornton Wilder Memorial Hall), but man, David Cromer just gets it, in a way that'll just blow your mind.

(Also don't read the review in The Boston Globe because [a] it's douchey, [b] IT SPOILS THE END OF THE PLAY, and [c] it's douchey. Yes, Our Town has been around a while, so there are certain spoilers that are now beyond the statute of limitations, but to spoil what makes this production so remarkable -- and to spoil it in such a nonchalant manner -- is awful. If this guy had reviewed The Sixth Sense when it first came out, he would have said "And then it turns out that Bruce Willis was dead the whole time which was totally brilliant and stunning -- I mean, that is to say, if you're one of those people who enjoys brilliant and stunning things or whatever. But otherwise, meh.")

Music To Soothe Your Jangled Innards

Quick update about a few events I've got coming up. One, I'll doing a show THIS Friday, December 14 at the All Asia in Central Square, Cambridge with my / Boston's premiere all-male hard rock Lady Gaga cover band Alejandro and the Fame. These shows are always a blast for everyone involved, and are almost always guaranteed to sell out, so make you get there (lookin' at you, People On The Other Side Of The River Who Missed Our Last Show Because It Was Allllllll The Way In JP Oh BooHoo). Admission is a scant $6, and we hit the stage around 10:30pm! I'm also excited to announce that I'll be performing a short set for MORTIFIED at Oberon on Saturday, December 22. For those who haven't heard of this, MORTIFIED is a night of performance in which real-live grown adult humans read horribly horribly embarrassing things from their high school journals / AIM transcripts / etc, and hilarity ensues. And so, during my set, you'll be treated to some particularly painful gems that I dugout from my high school and middle school songwriting notebooks. Ever wonder what kind of angsty tunes I wrote when I was 14 (including "Dot of my 'I'" and instant never-classic "Fuck You Hotchkiss Lane")? Here's your only chance to hear them live! More information to come when I got it.

And finally, I was asked to write up a few scripts for the 2nd Annual Boston One-Minute Play Festival at the Boston Playwrights Theatre, January 5-7. I believe the evening as a whole contains about 100 one-minute plays (yes, really, but c'mon, that's barely an hour and a half!), so I'm sure there's going to be some great variety. And if you don't like a play, well, just wait one minute! I will say that writing a play, complete with a status quo, conflict, rising action,and denouement is remarkably more difficult than you might expect it to be, but I'm pretty pleased with what I came up with (and I should be blogging a bit more about it soon over at their website).

That's all for now, folks! See you Friday!

Basketcase

Truth be told, I've always thought The Fourth Green Day has the best job in the world. He gets to reap all of the benefits of being a rock star, without any of the hassle -- no publicity, no scandals. Hell, he doesn't have to write the songs! He just plays the parts on tour (and let's face it, Green Day doesn't write particularly difficult tunes). But he still gets the chance to stand on stage and rock out to an adoring crowd, and get paid handsomely to do so. If you offered me that gig, I've take it in a heartbeat.

"The Other Guy In Green Day" on Five By Five Hundred

Last Caress

Every year, I tell myself that I'm going to do #NaNaWriMo, but sadly, I never get very far. November is always an incredibly busy time of year me, and it's not like I'm not writing or working on other things; it's just a difficult time to focus on cranking out those 50,000 words. Still, I use the time I would otherwise dedicate to #NaNoWriMo to work on any of those other projects, including those kind of horror-punk-rock-young-adult story I've been throwing around (tentatively titled "Last Caress" after my favorite song by The Misfits). Over at Five By Five Hundred, I've included a small excerpt, comparing the local punk rock scene to the creation of a living Frankenstein-esque monster (yes, I realize that Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, but it would sound kind of ridiculous if I called it a 'Frankenstein's monster-esque monster,' right?)

"Where Eagles Dare" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

(side note, "Last Caress" by the Misfits is also, without competition, the single greatest pop song ever written about killing babies. Just, uh, just sayin')

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F39UP1mjAnc&w=420&h=315]

How Are You?

On Thursday, March 25th, Mitchell Dubey was murdered in his home in New Haven. I never knew Mitchell myself, but he touched the lives of countless people whom I've known, and left a lasting, positive impact on these people and the community of which they are a part. Last night, his friends put together a benefit concert for Mitchell's family, who has suffered a great deal in the past year, and successfully raised over $23,000, and completely sold out Toad's Place, a famous music venue in New Haven. It was a glorious sight to behold, a celebration of his life and the things he loved. (And yes, that is a GIANT photo of me getting a wristband from the doorman at the concert. Embarrassing. I wish they could have featured someone else who knew Mitchell personally. But, I'll take it.)

I feel strange that I never had the chance to meet Mitchell, but he touched the lives of so many people that I've known a long time, and left a lasting, positive impact on a community that I care greatly for, even though I don't live there anymore. I don't want to rob my grief from those that actually knew Mitchell and were so greatly affected by this loss, but I was overwhelmed by the amount of love on display last night. Mitchell Dubey left a mark on the lives of so many people that I have known, and so, by extension, his life has affected mine, and I think that is the very definition of community.

This week's post on Five By Five Hundred is dedicated to Mitchell. It was inspired by an interaction that I had at the show with my old friend Jerry Morgan. We haven't seen each other in a long time, and have never done well keeping in touch, but I think we were both happy to see each other, barring the circumstances. Jerry knew Mitchell through the bicyclist and vegan communities in New Haven, as well as the music scene, and when we both asked each other how we "were," we both understand what it meant — what has your life been like since we last spoke, excepting the detail of your friend's gruesome murder. Fortunately Jerry always remains positive, and took our "How are you?"s in good humor, and it sparked a conversation.

Before I link you selfishly to my writing, here's a video of Mitchell taken by a complete stranger in California several years ago. It only makes me wish I knew him more.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fmh9FBDAvwo&w=425&h=349]



Check out "Three Words" on FiveByFiveHundred.com