Jun18

Girl In The Mirror

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Empty SeatsWhen I at look at the music industry today,  I’m still confused as to where I claim to fit in. I am stuck in a world where Irving Berlin is King, where you don’t need more than a piano or a stage or a dream to make history. As singing is my only skill (is charisma a skill?), I am totally dependent on others to make music with me and for me. I don’t write. I don’t have the patience to master music software. I don’t play an instrument. I might thrive in an environment where a piano, a piano player and an enthusiastic attentive audience happen to be found in every living room, but that is certainly not the world we live in anymore.  So when people say ‘Hey Bridgitte – you’ve got ‘IT’, I say to them sure, but IT isn’t really enough. How about a half million dollars to make an album with professional musicians and producers? How about being 32 and counting in an industry obsessed with ‘young talent’? YouTube is saturated. iTunes is saturated. People’s ears are saturated. Where is my spot on this crowded stage?

There are alot of talented people out there. I’m a one trick pony in a world of thoroughbred horses.  It’s a damn good trick and I’m dead sure that David Foster is missing out on this pony ride. This has nothing to do with confidence. I sing as a way to connect with the world. I’m good at it. And people like it.

But the barriers are consuming. For a while I’ve been pretty determined to see if I could take it to the top. There is alot to be said for perseverance, I know that, though sometimes its seems like it’s all a matter of cash. With enough cash, almost anyone could make an album, work with the best and produce great music and get yourself out there. But that’s unrealistic in a world of dwindling resources. I’m becoming a hard core fan of simple living (like these guys), and sustainability. Not to be trendy, but in a real and true sense; our future on this planet counts on it.

For me it’s all or nothing. I don’t want to sing at weddings. It’s not fame I’m after. I play to win, not for the fun of the sport. I want to make an impact on the world in a large and positive way. I would use my success as a platform to enact change.  THAT’S what drives me. The music is just a vehicle, as you can see, I’m not ‘artiste’.  I sing cause I can, cause it forces it’s way outta me with little concern for what’s practical. When I sing, the passion you hear is not for the artform, it’s source is deep pain and it reaches for hope. That’s why i love singing old tunes. Lyrics that apply to real life, to real people, not simply propagating more nonsense in the world. Music, when hijacked to sell sex and images, is of no interest to me. I’d rather write a book. Or plant a garden. Some people have encouraged me to write a one-woman show and that idea always floats around in the back of my mind. How much would that cost?!

Life is short. I want to make every minute count. I want to make an impact. Can it be through music? Waiting for the freak chance that someone who’s someone out there will notice? Is making music videos and maintaining a Twitter account the best use of my time?  After the first few hundred hits roll in, I always think, but who have I helped?

 

Jun2

Lost my Voice, Lost my Mind

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A few days ago I lost my voice. I was feeling a bit scratchy, but my default setting in life is Invincible - so I just kept on singing. Headed straight into the studio, screeched out the Elvis song I had planned to blow people away with, came home with a shitty recording and No Voice.

Spent the next few days googling home remedies, not yelling at my kids, and wallowing in self-pity. I did things with ginger you are not supposed to do with ginger. I practically shot that shit up through my veins. I was desperate. “I’m so delicate, how will I ever make it through back to back concerts at Caesars Palace?” I asked myself. “Maybe my technique is all wrong. Maybe I don’t know how to sing at all. Maybe I’m fooling myself and should just go and do a course in permaculture.” All it takes is a little rock of my boat, and I immediately begin vomiting my guts up over the side. You see, I’m half Italian, so on the outside I’m all like “Hey, badda bing badda bang, I’m a tough guy” – but on the Jewish inside, in my kishkes, I’m a Bloomingdale’s Big Brown Bag of Nerves.

Smoking Ginger

Smoking Ginger

But now, a few days later, I’m back bitches. Ain’t nothing gonna keep me down. Even though I sound more like Barry White than Barbra Streisand at the moment. Even though I had to abandon my car at the side of the highway this morning. Even though I can’t find a single brand of deodorant that keeps me from stinking like road kill.

I am on the road to fame. Car or no car. I’ll put on my god damn roller skates if I have to. The show must go on.

May6

I See Happy People.

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Have you ever lost sleep because of the dream that never came true?

My dream has always been to sing for people, and make them smile.
So, you could imagine how tired I am, especially after all this time, 3 kids and a chronic guilt for not calling my mother.

Well, as they say, sleep is for the dead.
But sometimes it’s even hard being awake because of the excitement of seeing parts of my dreams becoming a reality. It’s exhilarating!

You see how I can complain and boast at the same time?! Now THATS talent.

Every Like. Every hit. Every comment. Pouring in from all sort of fun places, ranging from close to home to places I’ve got to Google to see where they are (North West South or East of New York?!). Connecting with people I never would have encountered had I decided to forget about becoming a pop star and focused instead on cleaning up the house so it doesn’t look like a frat party and and a preschool rented the same venue on the same day.

Please watch my first music video below. And let me know if it made you smile.
Or dance.
Or sing.
Or if you know anyone in the music industry ;)

Apr18

Swimming Mainstream

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I told someone once that all I wanna do is entertain. Sing alot, dance a little, make general merriment and leave a trail of smiley people in my path. “So be an event singer” he said. No. I ‘m talking about world domination here, not weddings and barmitzvahs.

One small thing, though, is that I’m not overwhelmingly mainstream.Image

Never have been, never will be. Oh how I’ve tried. This was not a decision to forge my own path in life, beat of my own drum or whatever. Tommy Hilfiger cut-offs, denim overalls one strap down, scrunchies, been there – done it. This here is a case of tried and failed. They say that in college the weirdos finally become cool. This did not happen to me, as students are expected to study and pass exams as well and I could not handle the pressure of either. I’ve had to wait for everyone to get old and have kids in order to find my cool. Pull it together better than post-natal moms? Piece of cake. So while every woman my age is at home thinking about how to be a better parent/person/employee/boss/homeowner/doctor/etc, I’m posting on Twitter (@BridgtteRaven #XD!!) and studying music videos, just to try and stay relevant. This is an epic fail.

As fun as it is to post shit about myself on Facebook though, a singer is meant to sing as well. But without a band on call during my free hours (see school calendar) and an audience waiting to be dazzled, YouTube becomes a girls best friend, cause Hey! if Bieber did it, so can a 32 year-old mother of 3 living overseas..right?

The YouTube platform is only really helpful if you are singing major hits that have been released within the past 3.4 seconds. If you catch them on their way up, you can ride that painted pony towards millions of hits in no time. This is a skill that requires stealth speed and total absorption in all things POP MUSIC, in addition to a sweet home recording set-up, long brown/blond hair, some sort of glove or hat, and bedroom decorated like you don’t give a shit even though its obvious you totally do. Also, every video must start with “Hey guys…”

I have shit for brains. I cant seem to figure out how to record from home at a quality any better than those al-Qaedai videos they release from caves. Still.

I also like old peoples music. Or dead peoples music. The first thing my kids ask me when a song comes on the radio is “Mommy, is she/he dead?”

Also, i’ve tried everything (read: alcohol) to try and write a song. No cigar. On a serious man-hunt to find a songwriter to write with me, not FOR me. I see songwriting like having a baby, it would be Great if someone else could do all the hard work, but I still wanna be around for the fun bits ;)

I have passed 3 rounds of X-Factor. Now it’s getting close to the final stage, and they’re prepping for my big debut on the boob tube. Leaving aside the fact that I’m meant to sing in what is essentially a biblical language, I have also been requested to prepare a Katy Perry song …. it’s called Hot n Cold, for all of you on Team Kitty Litter or whatever the fuck they call themselves. As a general rule, I do not like to artist-bash, but let’s just say that this is a far cry from Moon River…

That reminds me, I’ve got to come up with a name for my ‘team’ when I get one, don’t want to be caught unprepared right? I thought of Team B-Hip/Fly-Girls.

Can any of you all out there do any better than that?

Apr9

Shit Just Got Real

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Graffiti for Realists

Graffiti for Realists

It’s all good and well to go around telling people you are going to be a pop star, but it’s another thing making it happen. I thought this would be a way to get out of working, cause i em>really hated working, but it turns out that show biz might even be more work than real work. Ya, it’s a freaking dream come true to be working on a music career, but I’ve found recently that it’s also easy to get lost in the insane process – details, collaborations, time, money and Reality constraints…it can make you forget how incredible it is to finally be on the road to Stardom.

Tomorrow we begin shooting the video to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun – WOW – now that has taken serious effort to put together, and more than anything it’s the image of people watching it and hopefully smiling and dancing along that keeps the process exciting. I can’t freakin wait to share it.

All along the way I’m also constantly at work on new covers, seeking songwriters to collab with, trying to be a regular-Jane-cookie-baking mom to 3 very confused kids, and of course getting ready for the X-Factor which I’m really pumped to begin working on.

As for today, it’s all about the hair.
hair3hair4

hair1

Mar14

This Star Been Born

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I’m about one year from when I decided to rise out of the laundry basket and reach for the heights of international stardom.

And now, it’s starting to happen.
But you should see the clothes hamper, what a mess. A Star Is Born

Firstly, I’ve got second round auditions with Israel’s version of  ‘Idol’ which is called ‘A Star is Born’ (stop and smell the sweet scent of karma there). I nearly lost it in the first round, went in there armed with total shit songs – yet another occurrence of trying to suss out what other people want from me, rather than giving them what I give best (dont go there, sicko). Luckily they could tell I was unwittingly holding back, and at the last minute gave me a chance to give it to ‘em good with a charisma-packed Etta James cover. Whew.  Close one. Next time I’m going back TOTALLY Diva-ed out. They won’t know what hit them (mostly cause their English is shit).

They asked me to prepare 5 True-To-Myself songs so here’s the list:

1. Dont Rain on My Parade – oh no she did’nt – oh yes, I did.

2. Shout – fast paced, familiar 60′s classic – FUN to sing Crazy Lady style.

3. CeeLo’s Fuck You/Forget You – actually a straight up Motown song masquerading as modern pop. My playground song, lots of room for personal inflections.

4. Etta James ‘Something’s Got a Hold On Me – saved my ass in the first audition, gonna bring it back for another round in the ring.

5. __________ ??? HELP!!!!!!! Smack down your ideas in the comment section.

Lots of this stuff will overlap with the repertoire I’m building up with my new band “Ten Green Bottles” – Coming to a Venue Near You – Summer 2013. Practices start end of this month and I’m PUMPED to finally get on stage after all the studio singing I’ve been doing and shake what my mamma gave me alongside a real live band and audience (rather than the very enthusiastic one I’ve been imagining for 3o years).

The cover I worked on in London – “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” is playing 24/7 in my house – but unfortunately the only way you’re gonna hear it is if you park outside my building, but I can’t attest for what else you might here while you’re out there ;) I can’t release the song without a video (thanks a mil’ YouTube), which was looking really unlikely until yesterday when I gave birth to a 50 Ton Kick Ass Video Idea that is now incubating and will begin to take form when filming starts next week. Like all births, it hurt like a mother fucker on the way out, but all is forgotten now as I gaze upon it’s infant beauty, tickle it’s tiny toes, and dream of it’s success in the field of medicine and/or law.

I also submitted the song to an International Music Competition which is being judged by my life-long idol Cyndi effing Lauper herself, amongst other illustrious music peeps. Never was there an opportunity better suited to my unpolished, unconnected, almost-famous self.

Read this:

“Unsigned Only is a unique music competition designed for solo artists, bands, and singers all over the world who are not signed to a major label record company or any of its affiliates, subsidiaries, or imprints. The goal of Unsigned Only is to find an outstanding, talented performer: a band, singer, or solo artist…a newcomer or veteran…raw or polished – the “gem” that needs to be discovered. Unsigned Only is looking for the total package.”

TOTAL PACKAGE?
I got your package right here.
You bring the shmata, I bring the gem.

I don’t even care if I win (I lie.)

If Cyndi Lauper has listened to my song, maybe tapped her foot to it, I’m good. If she decides to take me under her wing and raise me as her own little super-star gosling, I’m totally up for that too. I’d actually settle for brunch and a mooch around Marshall’s.

Feb26

Takin it To the MAX

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Pimpin it Camden Style (UK, not NJ)

Today is a GLORIOUS day. The sun is shining. I’m wearing pastels to encourage spring to show its shy prepubescent face. That weird pimple-volcanic thing on my leg finally popped. Life is grand!

It’s been 2 weeks since I got back from the UK. Rock star to Shmata overnight. I eased back into the swing of things with viral asthma (childx3), finally dead car, wholesome whole living whole-lotta-cooking hosting opportunities, and a suitcase of clothes I don’t really need to unpack cause Moms definitely dont dress like THAT. No sweat. It’s all about outlook, right?

I can’t wait to share the song I recorded in London – a modern-dance cover of Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun. This was an exercise in moving away from the typically old fashioned over dramatic stuff I usually lust after. How Pop can I go? Well, not too far it seems. The song definitely came out great, but it’s clear I should stick to what I do best – my playground is where those great big long long notes lie – where there is room for heart and soul and unbridled campness.

What I did finally prove to myself was that I can do it. I can roll with the big boys. Hang with the homies. Rip it dip it swing it Gangham style while sipping a Harlem shake. Put me together with some professional musicians that find my nervous compulsive joke making tick endearing, and I can produce the goods.

Now the hunt is on for original music. This girl has had enough singing covers, nobody puts baby in the corner. (?) No. I don’t write music. I barely have enough discipline to write my name. I can’t sit down long enough to go to the bathroom. But there are songwriters out there. People like me, just looking to team up with the right person and make magic happen. If you write music that you can imagine a large portion of the gay community would love – I’m your (wo)man. I will sing it, and you can have (almost) all the money that will inevitably come from it. I just need some to cover my basic expenses, buy this ‘Double Sided Light Saver’ my 8 year old wont shut up about, and fund the (team of?) psychologists my kids will definitely need.

I just wanna sing.

Jan14

Incomplete

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I often wonder why it is that I feel so incomplete. That nagging feeling of emptiness, even after an honest days work and not screaming (a lot) at the kids. Almost exercising. Striving for my dreams. Not illegally downloading the new Justin Timerberlake song. Is that not enough?

It’s not fair really, is it? After all, I’ve checked off everything on the ‘Road to Completion Check List.’

  • Education: “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.”
    Dear Oscar Wilde, I disagree on both counts. Regards, Bridgitte B.A.
  • Marriage:  “You complete me.” Adam, Eve etc.
  • Kids: Reproduce your way to fulfillment in 3 easy kids!

Job. Check.
House. Check.
5G Wireless Wifi Hi-End BlueRay.mpeg4. Check.

…….Error: Not Found 404

In order to soothe the symptoms of incompleteness, there are always a few easy go-to areas to scratch that will always gain you instant, albeit temporary, relief. Spirituality is obviously one of those places. Thousands of years of holy, scholarly insight – surely there must be something in that, right?! Maybe I’ll pop over to the local synagogue. Amen. Boring. Get this thing off my head. Swipe a slice of moist cake on the way out. If I run I can be back in my pajamas slurping the coffee and I left on the kitchen table in less than 5. Good Shabbos and Good Bye.

Ok, how about the arts!? People have spent all eternity expressing their deepest yearnings through art. I am a singer after all. Sing for your supper, sing for your fulfillment? No. Singing is like sex. You gear up to it slowly (=woman), and once you’re in it’s like Woah Nelly this is fun, why don’t we do this more often?! Then it’s over. The itch is scratched and you can either fall asleep or go back to the abundant less-satisfying-than-sex+singing activities that fill our lives. Fun while it lasted, but over until the next time the urge to plug in the microphone comes up. (Enjoy those puns people).

The next few items hold no intrinsic value so I’m just gonna go ahead and plop them all together in one category:

Food. Pop Culture. Shopping. TV Shows. Vacations. Cosmetic surgery. More food. Drinking/Smoking. Internet games/memes/schemes/streams. So on and so forth. Mindless, unconstructive activities that slowly destroy our society yet provide shit loads of distraction from the nagging feeling of emptiness in spite of having it all. I swear, Twitter is the best thing since being born. Twitter allows me to continue as a semi-respected member of the community whilst on the side living out my wildest fantasies of being besties with the likes of @TinaFeyFansclub (one step closer), ‏ @JokesDog (cracks me up!) and @Joan_Rivers  (to die for!!). My Iphone is never out of reach, and therefore neither is my one-sided conversation with @Cher.

I’m middle class, middle aged and wanna give life the middle finger. Yes, that’s right – while millions of our fellow human beings are suffering from real-live-awful-shit, I’ve photo-shopped myself into the picture of the poverty stricken, war-torn town and claim, “Yea, me too. I suffer too.”

To be fair, I have given this a fair amount of thought. I’ve been carrying this around for quite some time now and I’ve done what I feel is a respectable amount of research into the matter. I spent my teenage years deeply absorbed in my boyfriend Camus, Nietzsche, Aristotle and dead celebrity biographies (lots to gain there people). All of my 20’s were spent in a cloud of ancient Jewish texts and long talks with people I will forever be indebted to. Oh, and of course, the predictable next step into Buddism. Who didn’t see that coming? I bore myself.

Everything I’ve mentioned above – it all makes up the current complexion my life. No regrets, no shame. We build upon the past, brick by each colorful brick. So what do you when some bricks are missing? When you look around and see straight through the gaping holes in your house and you realize that whatever you have managed to piece together is just not enough and you’re all out of ideas of where to get new bricks.

You snoop around other peoples houses, that’s what you do! Not just anyone’s houses, mind you, but the houses built by people you have a lot of respect for. People you know personally that blow you away, and people who you have not yet had the great fortune of meeting but it doesn’t matter cause you can find out anything on the internet.

I discovered 2 things by snooping:

1. Nobody’s house is without holes.

2. The bricks that happen to be the exact shape of my gargantuan gaps, are resting snuggly in the houses built by those people who have done good things for other people. Those who are out there DOING something to help improve the lives of others and the world we live in. The boy who competes alongside his paraplegic brother in triathalons. The neighbor who always knows when to bring over that dish that we told her we loved when we were last invited to Friday night dinner. Ellen. Amy Poehler. This woman. That guy.

I don’t have those bricks because I’m so damn caught up in my own nonsense. I don’t deserve those bricks.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t try, right? I can change. I can start now. Not just so that I  can ‘fill my gaps’, but so that it will all have meant something. So that someone else may benefit from all that I’ve been blessed with. It is possible.

Ok, fine, I’m not 100% sure about all this. But from my embarrassingly great distance I can just about approximate that it might work. I could be wrong. They do look heavy, those bricks, don’t they? And where am I gonna get a wheelbarrow to schlep them? And jeez ya know the holes aren’t really that bad unless it rains. But with environmental change and all it could start raining a lot more…so, well….it could be the perfect time to start. I’ll definitely Google it – “How to make a difference.”

 

Excuse me for a second, my phone is ringing, it could be Cher.

Jan7

The Power of Now

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A bagel, a friend. Toasted to perfection. Warm, brown and crunchy. Always there for me. Cool thick white cream cheese, kind and generous.
The diet, my nemesis. Turns away, ashamed and defeated.
Same time tomorrow?

Kids off at school, for now. The harum-scarum Elvis Presley Harum Scarumof the morning routine still lingering, their toys still scattered, dirty bowls and clothes, crumbs everywhere you step. The sweet combo of the silence in their absence and the happy chaos in their impending return.

Dreams and goals looming overhead, threatening and promising glory and disappointment. Every day tasks, irritating yet comforting. Write a book, mail the check. Record a song, clean the toilet. Invent new great thing, pick up milk.

The questions need answering. So does the phone. Great calamities continue to befall mankind. The best place to get sushi. God is that you? No, I don’t have time for a short questionnaire.

I want it all. Less is definitely more.

The power of now.
Must start composting.

Jan1

Dear Barbra Streisand,

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Hi. It’s me, Bridgitte.

You don’t know me. But you will soon. That’s not meant to sound creepy. Shit..ok sorry – just keep reading anyway, please.

I’m a big, big fan. Ya, I know you’ve got a bunch of those, nothing new right? I’m also a singer…but you’re like – THE singer, so ok no big whoop I get it. I’m from New York!! I’m Jewish!! I’ve got a big nose!! I LOVE a bargain….I’ve got kids…

Just trying to establish some common ground here. Give me a break, huh? I just wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that I love you. Not in that freakish mob fan way. Not in that SNL parody ‘Like Butta’ kinda way. Not in that  “Oh MY God I’ve seen like ALL your movies and I totally love Broadway and Glee and my absolute dream is to meet you..” way. Not at all.

More like the way that you love someone who has inspired you. Who you look up to. Who has never let you down. This kind of love that doesn’t need autographs and fan groups and memorabilia (ok FINE i Got the Barbra Barbie I could’t help myself).  It doesn’t matter if you have never met that person, seen that person, or even come close to having a light brunch at Sizzler with that person. It’s love nonetheless.

For a girl who loved music, and funny women, and New York and subtlety and integrity and full-blown beauty and charisma and and and … You were my everything. Of course, love is fickle. I admit, I may have cheated on you at times. There was a serious Elvis phase that did not make me popular at elementary school. And The New Kids On the Block definitely stole my heart and attention for some time during those awkward pre-teen years. But I always came back to you. Always back to ‘Funny Girl’, to my ever growing Streisand cassette tape collection and Karaoke machine. Thoughts of other women? Sure – Lucille Ball, Cyndi Lauper, Carol Burnett…can you blame a girl???

There was only ever one goal in my life. And that was to sing. It was never about copying, never a ‘wanna-be’ philosophy – Aren’t you the one who taught us to be ourselves — to be original?!?! Yes of course – a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls!! I get that – and I did it the best I could. But it’s hard growing up, the pressure gets to you, the detentions get to you – the system tries to beat it out of you. No Bridgitte, you cannot stand on tables in the cafeteria no matter how well you sing. No Bridgitte, getting the Class Clown award is not an achievement. Declare your major. Do your homework. What’s YOUR PLAN BRIDGITTE!!?? I’ve always known that the only thing I would ever want to do is Sing. But I got distracted Barbra.

I was alone alot as a kid. I was lost. As a grew into a young adult I began to doubt myself. The things that made me ME were things that began to embarrass me, began to make me feel that I’d never succeed despite them. How much good does some old fashioned wit and a hell of  belt do in this world where hard skills and big boobs are the way forward?

So I went searching. Oh, I never forgot you Babs – never moved anywhere without your music, never lived anywhere that didn’t have a mirror I could sing in to. Never lost my dream of becoming the Star and Inspiration that you inspired me to become. Every course I took in computers or whatever, every job I applied to knowing I’d already lost it, every time I tried to convince myself and everyone else I was someone different,  pushing my dream further away and out of site for the sake of practicality or spirituality – - lemme tell ya – that kind of denial causes alot of agida (For my non-Brooklyn readers Agida is Italian-American slang for heartburn but it can also mean mental aggravation. your welcome.)

But boy did I get lucky! Wait till you hear this Barbra!! Out of all this mess and confusion and searching – I found the one thing I needed to bring me to my senses. I found my best friend. I found him wandering just like I was wandering. Also searching and not sure for what. Also fallen through the cracks of the system, but with a shit load more common sense and discipline. Combine that with my good looks and sense of humor – you got yourself a hell of a couple! So I did him the favor of marrying him. And we started a family. And we still wander and search, but we do it together.

And that’s how I got here. Sometimes all it takes is someone else to believe in you…consistently, over 10 years, day in and day out, crying by night and messing up domestic duties by day.

“All I want to do is sing!” I cry.

“So sing” he says.

So I did. First a few times at home. Then in a studio. Then on Facebook and then with some videos on YouTube. Slowly slowly building my confidence, putting myself out there. And now – this video. Small budget, big chutzpah. Singing your song, you cool with that? The culmination of 30 years of singing into a mirror. And at the same time the beginning of something great. Something big. Because now I believe it – I believe in that little girl’s dream. I believe in my dream and in myself. And I have you to thank for that. For kindling that fire, for keeping it alive, for moving me with every song and making me laugh with every funny look -  consistently for as long as I can remember no matter where I’ve been, in a world that just keeps moving and changing and getting harder to live in. This is for us, from one Funny Girl to another. I hope you like it.