A Perfect Mess

Steve Jackson is one of the nicest people I have gotten to meet in this journey called life, and that is the truth. Not only did he take my months of pestering him for an interview for this series with a smile, he was also the first ever phone interview that I did on my weekly radio show. He took time out of his Super Bowl Sunday to take questions from some DJ he never met about goofy shit like where the name "Pietasters" came from and was a gracious gentleman the whole time. Enter my friend Rob Alapick again. (keeps nosing his way into my blogs) Since he had been nice enough to set up my interview with Steve, I was excited to finally get to thank Mr. Jackson in person at Rob's house deep in the weirds of Pennsylvania when the Pietasters were playing a show with Hub City Stompers and Rudie Crew. I made my way all the way out to his house, which quickly filled with band members, friends, and the like. Steve Jackson shook my hand and was perfectly ready and willing to...

The Toasters have a special place in my heart. Many nights in the summer days of my late teens were spent flying around with the windows down and Dub 56 blaring from the speakers (...before you ask, purists...BOTH versions). They were partially responsible for pulling me into the wonderful world of third-wave ska  in the NY scene in the first place. Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down has been one of my unofficial theme songs on an average weekday at work for many years. It's also played quite often in my house, and is one of the most dancable songs I know with it's infectious beat. They are East Coast ska scene pioneers and have influenced and help launch a mastery of other bands in their wake.  Robert Hingley, better and most affectionately known as Bucket to most of us, started the band in New York in 1981 while working at a comic book store. That was long before the ska sound had caught on here in the states the way it has today. The band released albums through the...

A few months back, my friend and show promoter Rob Alapick dragged me out of my apartment to a show at the Stanhope House. It was down the street from me, and he promised me The Toasters. Even in my weepy state, I figured that was just what I needed to cheer me up. I ran into some good friends (pretty standard for a ska show) and was sitting around hunched over my diet coke licking my wounds, when out of the corner of the club I heard them hit the stage. Who in the world is this and why have I not heard them?! My feet were immediately tapping all over the floor. I forgot I was cranky. Rob informed me…this is The Rudie Crew. (to his credit, he had told me I would like them…) I was blown away! The bass lines and the horns grab you immediately, but then in comes the vocals with this fresh dancehall sound, and you are hooked. I was hooked. This is great, tight, danceable ska. This is summer nights in sweaty clubs, ants in your pants on the dance floor, fast-talking ska flavor. TH...

...hunting season is now open...and all DJ's are fair game... Can I tell you how many times we used to crank The Stubborn All-Star's "Open Season" in my younger days? I first heard it on a "Give Em' The Boot" compilation I think I found at Hot Topic, somewhere in the 90's. The 90's are a blur. I still find myself quoting it, playing it regularly on my radio show (it often opens my show, because how appropriate is that?), and probably annoying the ever loving HELL out of the people who live above where we presently broadcast from in Stroudsburg, PA with my obnoxious, loud singing and dancing. Of course I do this song no justice. The Stubborn All-Stars were led by none other than King Django. I have been chasing this gentleman for weeks. I can be really annoying when I want something, and he finally gave in. When it came time for me to launch my summer ska series on my radio show and my blog, I wanted to focus on the NYC scene...which of course...

I am a child of the NY Ska scene. Well, I am a young adult of the scene anyway. My high school boyfriend exposed me to this wonderful world in the mid-90's and I have been a devotee ever since the first time I got kicked out of a ska show at The Wetlands for underage drinking. Fast forward to 2012, a few grey hairs, and I can still be found blasting The Slackers any given afternoon on my agonizing North Jersey commute. It's happy music that reminds me of summer days and sweaty dance floors. Shows without egos. Horns, beer, and guys wearing suits and sunglasses. This summer, as I book my Slackers and Pietasters Booze Cruise tickets, I will be interviewing, show reviewing, and more or less harassing as much of the modern scene as I can for a summer series on the scene itself...what it was, what it is, and what it is poised to become. ...bring your pork pie hat, your best trousers, and let's dance... ~AJH

I have had this song stuck in my head for a week. Seriously, I wake up singing it. This Town, by Don Ryan. I got an e-mail a few weeks back from this gentleman. He sent me this video. I opened it up, gave it a good listen, and it has been stuck in my head ever since. I have posted it on Facebook. I have e-mailed it to friends. It's been blasted in my car speakers. I have said it before, it takes a lot to knock my socks off, especially musically. I am not easily impressed, and I see through the glitz and polish quite easily. But this...this is the real thing. Don Ryan is different. This is real music. This is real good music. I downloaded the whole album, Tangle Town, after giving this video a few good spins in my headphones. Usually when it comes down to needing to review music, I find the best possible method for me is to listen to it in my car. I spend a lot of time in my car. I am a commuter. A hardened, foul-mouthed North Jersey highway commuter. We are our own b...

Some of my earliest childhood memories were set to the soundtrack of the crack and pop of vinyl on the record player in my parent's living room. There were tapes too, but our household was one of records. Played loudly through the speakers that seemed so huge, they might as well have been suspended from the ceiling of Madison Square Garden. Dancing, singing, spinning in circles in the living room to the music that was so infused in my blood from such a young age that it seemed like part of me. Part of my family. Learning early that I could only dance so hard otherwise those wonderful sounds that escaped from those huge speakers would "skip". Nowadays, my own home is also filled with music all the time. I find myself still dancing, only now I have a child of my own, a son, who I delight in infusing with the music that means so much to me. Ours comes mostly out of my iPod or computer speakers. I look at my son...and I realize that while he knows what a record is (I st...