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Hey there... hope you're having a great week...
So, a few weeks ago, I mentioned to you that I was gonna start using this newsletter/blog for non-music related writings (along with continued new music announcments, etc). And, after having spent the last couple weeks writing whenever the urge struck, I figure it's time to start throwing some of them out to you... Hope you like 'em... :)
(By the way... just so I'm being clear here... the point of these new blogs/newsletters is nothing more than hopefully making you smile a bit. Maybe get inspired from time to time... Like you, I love getting the random funny video or inspirational email that makes my day easier, and if these can serve that purpose for you... awesome. Thanks ahead of time for reading...)
That said........
My son is addicted to Josh Groban.
There. I've said it. My work here is done... (haha) Seriously, it all started a few weeks back when I was watching my son, and (drum roll, please)... I ran out of material. To those of you who have kids, have ever watched someone else's kids, or have ever even MET kids (which, barring you having been raised by the Unabomber in the deep recesses of the Montana mountains, is all of us), you know what I'm talking about here. We all have our go-to material. That thing you do when meeting a kid for the first time - a funny voice, a goofy gesture, SOMETHING that gets you by so you can seem at least somewhat interesting and engaged. (my material of choice, incidentally, is the 'mishearing the age' bit... 'How old are you Katie?' 'I'm seven.' 'You're NINE?' 'No, I'm seven.' 'Fourteen? Really? You don't look old enough to be fourteen...' 'No, I'm SEVEN!' Inevitably, they're giggling as they try to convince you of their real age, but the bit only lasts a minute or two and then I'm back to square one...... man....... I gotta get some new material... :))
ANYWAY, I digress... Once you have your own kids and they're yours 24/7, the few go-to bits stop mattering for the most part. But, on days when you're really tired and rundown, and your kid is looking to you to entertain him or her... out they come. And, on this day, I'd used up whatever meager tools I had in my arsenal. Which left me basically staring at Renn thinking 'Oy... we're hanging out for another two hours... what now?'
Enter Josh Groban.
I'd Tivo'd the Josh Groban 'Awake' concert a few days prior (mainly just out of passing interest in seeing his stage setup) and for some reason it popped into my head. 'Nice...' I thought. 'I'll put that on and it might hold his attention for a few minutes. Long enough for me to get a cup of coffee, at least...' Had I realized the maelstrom of Groban-infatuation that would inevitably take over my life as well as the lives of my unsuspecting wife and daughter... I would NEVER have put it on. But, I didn't. And, I did. So, out it came... The first few notes filled our living room, and as the glorious music hit Renn's ears, I can only describe his reaction as... well... damnit, I'll say it... it was magical. His posture slackened, his eyes glazed over, and you knew, just KNEW... he'd been whisked away to some mythical place where rainbows sparkled, birds sang, and Josh Groban himself crooned from the top of some far-off mountain... I swear, had there been a Hugh Hefner smoking jacket and a snifter of brandy nearby, they wouldn't have looked out of place on Renn in that moment.
So, Groban's singing, Renn's transfixed, and all is good. But, in my haste to pacify, what I didn't REALIZE was that the Grobe-man was working some centuries-old magic I'm, as yet, unaware of. Driving his sweet operatic-twinged melodies deep into my son's cerebellum, he was, by all accounts, taking over my son's psyche. Not a day passes by now when Renn, entering our living room, doesn't jet straight for the remotes, pick them up and start shouting (in an increasingly frantic tone) 'Osh? Osh? Osh?! Osh?!!' The only solution to which is to let him watch part of the concert. The problem therein being that he always wants to watch the SAME part of the concert... the Woman in Somalia. God bless America, if I were granted one wish right now, I think it would quite possibly be to remove that song from the face of the earth. I'm not ripping on the song, by the way. It's fine. And, before any of you diehard Groban fans start thinking I'm tearing into the Grobe himself, I promise I'm not. He's an incredibly talented and accomplished guy... but, in my opinion... something best taken in doses. And, if I have to hear 'Woman in Somalia' one more time, I swear on my kids college tuition that I may have to shove a fork in my ear to end the suffering.
Anyway, after weeks of this ritual, we've become somewhat accustomed to the sounds of Josh's voice flowing through our household, but it doesn't change the fact that Barb and I are longing for a newfound love of Bob the Builder sometime... ANYTIME soon.
So, kids... the moral of this story? Go listen to Josh Groban. Judging by my son's reaction, no matter WHAT'S going on in your life... Groban's good for what ails ya.
:)
Gavin
Pearls (Woman in Somalia):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0l6uhqamjA
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