SHOWS IN MARCH:

Thursday, March 20th, 2008 Boulder, Golden, Denver, Arvada, or elsewhere, CO?
HOST A HOUSE PARTY WITH SAM!
Sam is available this night for a house concert (public) or private party in Colorado! Contact info@samshaber.com if you have questions and are interested in hosting the evening! We'll let you know what's involved.
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Friday, March 21st, 2008 5:00 PM Golden, CO
I-Club in the Student Center
Colorado School of Mines
1600 Maple Dr.
Golden, CO 80401
800-446-9488
http://www.mines.edu
Price: Free
Sam plays at the School of Mines! All-ages welcome.
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Saturday, March 22nd, 2008 8:00 PM Denver, CO
Sam Shaber & Rob Drabkin
Swallow Hill Tuft Theater
71 E Yale Ave
Denver, CO 80210
303-777-1003
www.swallowhill.com
Price: $10/12 adv, $12/15 day of show
All ages welcome! Don't miss this special double-bill.
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Hello hello hello! Happy New Year! Happy CHINESE New Year! Happy Valentines Day! Happy Presidents Day!

No, you did not secretly get taken off this list, and YES I did fall off the face of the earth. So sorry. I know your lives have been empty and cheerless without me.

Well, we're not--

Shut up. You've been empty and cheerless. Just humor me.

I wasn't hiding. I wasn't in rehab. Or Thailand. Nothing that exciting, I assure you. I've just been gearing-up to release this new project with the new pop/punk/rock band, "the happy problem." It's kept me off the road for a few months, recording, planning, hiring band members, scripting videos, and other such developmental activities. The recording is finished, featuring members of Gnarls Barkley and The Fray, but no more words on that just yet. We will certainly let you know when we're ready for take off.

In other news, I have a new obsession. Oh it's a big one, people. Bigger than celery. Bigger than Green Day. Possibly even bigger than "Brokeback Mountain."

(And yes, I am so ripped apart by Heath Ledger's death, and no, I can't even talk about it.)

This obsession brings forth deep, guttural sounds from my vocal chords on a regular basis. It causes me to start hyperventilating at the TV screen. It haunts my dreams. It makes it impossible, sometimes, to focus on a conversation.

Well, do tell, Sam! This should be good!

Oh it is, people. Ready?

Ready! Oh, YEAAH Baby. We're ready.

Well, I am obsessed with getting a puppy.

Oh. We thought it was going to be something juicy and sex--

Yeah, well you people have your minds in the gutter, I know that. No, this is not that kind of guttural utterance. This is the kind of guttural sound that arises from me when, say, watching the Westminster Dog Show recently and the beagle, THE BEAGLE, came strutting out on the Astroturf, past the dowdy-clad judges, and full of innocence, pep, verve, and an enthusiasm emanating from every puppy-like cell of its little spotted body.

"UUUNNNNNGHNNNUH!" I groaned in painful ecstasy. This was better than sex, people. This dog, Uno, Uno the Beagle, was just about the most painfully gorgeous living thing I have EVER seen.

And I am driven to distraction on a regular basis by this obsession. Like just yesterday when I attempted to write this jolly epistle to you, had it all planned-out and it was brilliant, let me tell you - deep, darkly witty, enlightening and self-promotional all at the same time, (what else could you ask for in a monthly email newsletter?) Yes, I was totally ready to rock your email world, when suddenly two men with a black lab/boxer mix PUPPY came by my table at the café. And at that point, it was just all over. There ensued an hour-long conversation about the who what where when and how of this puppy; who she is, what breed, where they got her from, when they got her, and how they're training her. She came over to me, licking and chewing on everything, almost swallowing my iPod headphones, and then the iPod itself, and she was softer than the most expensive Gund teddy bear ever invented. And she was REAL. And SO WARM. Oh and did I mention SOFT?

Yes, Sam, you did--

Don't interrupt me. Anyway, said email newsletter did not get written, so here I am, safely sequestered in our tiny apartment in Hollywood, an apartment too small (one room) and inhabited by two people too busy (George and me) to care properly for a dog. Here in this puppyless vacuum, I can finally concentrate and let you know what's been going on. But you see, I know it won't last. Because I know that just outside that door lurks a tiny toy Yorkie, owned by our reclusive neighbor across the hall. And I know that a few miles to my left, in Los Feliz, live two adorable French bulldog puppies, Luna and Mars, the newly adopted children of our friends, proud parents Mike and Rey. And then of course there's the delicious cocker spaniel I encountered on my walk in the Hollywood Hills yesterday. Everything just stopped for a moment while I went over to her at the gate of her house, petting, cooing, groaning in ecstasy, and then quickly leaving before someone called a restraining order out on me.

When did this obsession begin? That's the weird thing about obsessions. Once they're in full-swing, you can't imagine your life without them. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment they started is hard. It's the same thing with phobias for me. I had a horrible fear of fire when I was six - thought about it twenty-four hours a day, planned my life around possible escape routes, rewrote my mental list of what I would take with me when our apartment blazed-up, (which I assumed it inevitably would), and even being scared to go to the bathroom when I was out with my parents, in case the restaurant caught on fire while I was in there and they either died or got permanently separated from me.

This phobia came on slowly and as the result of a few different incidents. One of which was the charming family film "Lassie Come Home" in which, I believe, our trusty guardian Lassie saves an entire family from a burning house. Around the same time, I saw some dry documentary on PBS about what would happen if an oil fuel truck collided with another vehicle on the highway, (it would blow up, btw. Saved you some time there, eh?), and there was also some Brady Bunch episode involving fire.

Or maybe it was just the Brady episode when they're in Hawaii and they learn about tarantulas and voodoo at the same time. That was plain scary enough to kick off a phobia about anything, I think. Anyway, point is--

Oh, there's a point, Sam?

PEOPLE, THERE IS ALWAYS A POINT. You should know that by now. GEEEZ.

Ahem. The point is, from some combination of these vague incidents, I suddenly was thrust into a year-long obsession/phobia regarding fire. And then just as ambiguously, the phobia ended and I was fine. No longer needing to fall asleep with the bedroom door in a certain amount of openness, no longer needing to keep the radio on all night to fall asleep, no longer "holding it in" until I was sure it was safe to leave the dinner table for a moment to relieve myself.

And similarly, I am now obsessed with getting a puppy. Not in a way that affects my routine bathroom habits, but it does make it hard to concentrate when a member of the canine species is anywhere near by. And it's weird too, because it began with very small dogs - the pursey ones - the ones we're totally embarrassed to admit we like - and now it's pretty much evolved into anything that chases balls (or doesn't), pants (or doesn't), and can be attached to a leash in a city park and taken for a walk.

UUUNNNNGHGHUGNGUH.

See? There it is again. I didn't even SEE a dog that time, I was just thinking about the two that kicked it off for me. They are Jax and Ginger and they are owned by my former-tour-manager-and-now-sister-in-law, Julie. (I set her up with George's brother a couple years ago and, well, let's just say it pays to work for the Shaber.) Both dogs are mutts and both dogs are tiny. Jax is some kind of teensy Gonzo-looking black poodle with a sorta schnauzer face, and Ginger is part Chihuahua, part Papillion, and just part delicious. Jax is more energetic and Ginger likes me more. My love is just completely split between the two. Plus Ginger loves to have her stomach rubbed - really she is a total whore for this activity - which means we are soul-mates, as I have pretty much the same problem. A problem that caused me to continue to sleep with teddy bears well into adulthood. I just need something THERE, in the belly region, in order to fall asleep. Who knows why?

And from Ginger and Jax, I graduated to beagles, specifically the wonderful Phoebe and Rigby (as in Eleanor), proud canine children of my friends Bob and Melissa. Phoebe is obsessed with her ball, and specifically with having humans throw it as far away as possible so she can rise to the challenge. And Rigby has a colorful zigzag down the middle of her back and is just obsessed with lickin' and lovin'. These are the dogs who literally CURED me of my allergy to dogs. (The cat allergy is still alive and kickin', sorry people.) But I now can nuzzle, cuddle, schmoozle, (no idea - just sounds like something one would do with a dog,) and kissle with doggies all I want.

But, we still have the one-room-wrong-lifestyle issue, and therefore, no matter how cute Uno or any other Westminster Best in Show is, we will not be getting a puppy anytime soon. I ache to think of all the adorable unadopted canine children in shelters around this country. I thrill to see one of them in my dreams, being the one I adopt and love for all time, (okay, roughly thirteen years), and I "UNNGHUHGGHUH" when I see one on TV.

And for now, that is all I can do.

Phooey.

But at least I can tell you that I'll be in COLORADO next month!!

(Not much of a segue there, eh? Oh well - they can't all be gems.)

Just playing two shows - sort of a "goodbye" to the Sam Shaber solo touring life before this new band project takes over. So if you'd like to come say "goodbye" to Sam Shaber with me, hope you can make it! I have a cool new skirt I might wear, and I'm enjoying my currently "Chili Red" hairstyle. Maybe you will enjoy it too!

And I am still trying to fill that one extra night in Colorado, so if you're interested in hosting a house concert or a private party on Thursday, March 20th, just reply to this email and we'll tell you what you need to know. And in the meantime, find your leashes, grab a chew toy, leave some food in a bowl, and SEE YOU OUT THERE!

-Sam
p.s. witness the cuteness of Uno!

SHOW IN DECEMBER

Thursday, December 13th, 2007 8:00 PM Mays Landing, NJ
Careme's
Atlantic Cape Community College
5100 Black Horse Pike
Mays Landing, NJ 08330
609-343-5000
http://www.atlantic.edu/aca/cafeSeries.htm
Price: $35
Advance purchase highly recommended - call 609-343-4907 or e-mail simmons@atlantic.edu for tickets. All-ages welcome!
******


We begin, with a devastatingly cute picture of a puppy:




And finally we come, plodding, dripping, slushing, and shopping, to DeShamberber. Ahhh.

But not really "Ahh" at all, is it? No, not so relaxing. More like--

WACKA ACKA ACK ACK RACKA WAH!

Because that is the sound our hearts make as we frantically try to catch up on everything we still haven't done this year. We still haven't started our holiday shopping, we still haven't used that gift certificate from last year that's about to run out, we still haven't signed up for all the Apple Care warranties and frequent flyer clubs, and we still haven't gotten to Bed, Bath and Beyond to use that 20%-off coupon that is STILL sitting on the kitchen table and expires VERY soon.

Dang.

BUT, regardless, here we are. The end of the year. The end of a crazy year, I might add. Debates, fires, floods, wars, writers strikes, and oh yeah, Britney and OJ back in the spotlight.

Oy.

Husband George has been dutifully picketing every day in the Valley outside the Universal gate, marching back and forth across the driveway every time the light changes. Someone with too much time on their hands (i.e. another striking writer) figured out that the picketers walk nine miles a day on the picket line. Good thing too, with all the donuts and pizzas and frappucinos the kindly celebrities keep dropping off. We've all heard about Eva Longoria's pizza delivery a few weeks ago, but have you heard about Ahmet Zappa's delivery of Starbucks? Or the visit from Sinbad (with more Starbucks)? Or Jon Cryer's drop-by the other day to do a few rounds across the street and back? Or the mysterious truck last week handing out hundreds of cans of Hansen's soda?

(Okay, it was a Hansen's truck. Not so mysterious.)

Also on the picket line, new discoveries have been made, such as the purpose of those ominous black tar circles at the crosswalks of some streets. Turns out, they are there to signal the light to change when a car pulls up onto them to wait. Which also means, if a particularly lazy or cell-phone-distracted driver doesn't bother to pull all the way up and sit on that circle, the light never changes for them. George and his picketers have watched this phenomenon several times. However this is followed by the other phenomenon which is that said driver is often SO lazy or SO distracted by their cell phone conversation, that they don't even seem to realize they're sitting there, not moving for ten minutes.

Come on, Los Angelinos, please get it together, eh?

Two weeks ago was the really big Writers Guild rally all along Hollywood Boulevard. To show my spousal support (and because I heard there would be free food) I went with George, grabbed my I SUPPORT THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA sign, (and a free cupcake from the box sitting next to the signs), and headed out into the throng. Within moments, I was handed a pro-strike bumper sticker by none other than Justine Bateman.

Yeah, like Family-Ties-Justine-Bateman. And other-more-recent-stuff-I-haven't-seen-Justine-Bateman. Pretty cool, eh?

She handed me the sticker and smiled, and I smiled back at her, and--

"Hey!" Justine Bateman said to me. Did I mention it was Justine Bateman?

Yes, Sam, please continue.

Right. So, "Hey!" Justine Bateman said to me, "Where'd you get that cupcake?"

"Rrght ovrr thrr by thh sgnns," I mumbled, with a mouth full of cream cheese frosting.

"Oh, I bet that's Simon," said my new friend Justine, referring to the cupcake man. "Was it Simon?"

I could only shrug, still having my mouth full, and also having no idea who Simon is, and wondering how all celebrities seem to know not only each other but also all the cool people in the world, like the ones who make the amazing cream cheese frosted cupcakes.

Justine moved on.

But that was ok, because moments later we were being entertained by none other than Alicia Keys on a small flatbed truck. "Alicia Keys believes in us!" we all thought as we bounced our big red and black signs up and down to the music and watched her give the high-energy performance. "Alicia Keys is with the writers!" we shouted to each other, smiling. "Alicia Keys is one of us and that is why she is singing on this flatbed truck in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard!" we decided. We surely felt this in our hearts and shook our signs harder.

Then Alicia Keys spoke.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! Okay everyone. Now I'm going to do a song from my new album. It's coming out this week…"

Oh. Alicia Keys has a new album coming out. THAT'S why she's on that truck.

Disillusioned, we put our signs down for a bit, which actually freed up a hand to eat the amazing cinnamon scones we'd just been given. Perhaps by the famous Simon.

And then Alicia was done, a few moments of confusion passed, and suddenly we were off and marching. MARCHING! Me! Marching with the striking writers. Shaking my sign up and down for all I was worth! Feeling the solidarity! Fighting the corporate greed of the big conglomerates! YES YES YE--

Wait a minute - is that Deborah Messing? OH my god, it is. I was marching right behind Deborah Messing. Sam Shaber and Deborah Messing, marching together for the rights of the writers. Oh YEAH.

Wait a minute - is that Larry David? LARRY DAVID, YES IT IS! Sam and Larry marching together for the rights of the writers! What a great day--

Wait a minute - is that Garry Marshall? Oh- and hey that's Chris Parnell from Saturday Night Live! And wait- is that? IS IT? OH MY GOD IT IS.

Sandra Oh.

(Those of you who love Sandra Oh, as I do, just had your hearts stop for an instant. Those of you who don't watch TV however, are so bored right now, you could probably skip this month's blog entirely.)

The point is, marching for the rights of the writers is a pretty great thing. If you live in LA or NYC, definitely head down to your nearest Writer's Guild picket line and you're sure to get some good sightings.

And really we need to support them. They're only asking for what we all want - to be paid for doing our jobs. Remember, like when that other assistant quit, and even though you were sort of glad because they were SO totally annoying to work with, you were also really frustrated because that suddenly meant you were being given TWICE the amount of work for no additional pay? Remember how you felt powerless because the corporate heads of state would just fire you and replace you if you didn't just do all that extra work for free?

That's just what the media conglomerates are doing. All those "webisodes" we love to watch late on a Saturday night when we're pretending we're ok with not having anything better to do, those are WRITTEN by WRITERS who aren't getting paid for doing them. They just have to do the extra work or get fired. And every time you watch a free show online, the advertisers are paying the conglomerates to have their annoying commercials in your face before the episode starts, but the writers aren't getting any of that either. BUT NOW! Now we have a chance to stick it to them! Stick it to AOL Time Warner who always raise your cable rates and lose your emails without remorse! Stick it to NBC UNIVERSAL who no longer sell The Office on iTunes! Stick it to THE MAN!

You know how powerless you feel every time your credit card raises your rates, or the cable company refuses just to give you the IFC channel, and instead makes you pay extra because they're "bundling" it with MTV6, VH9, and the WWF? Or like how Verizon said it was only an extra $5/month for unlimited text messaging, but then it turns out to be only 250 messages, so that your next bill has an extra $25 on it, which quickly turns into an extra $35 because of taxes and mysterious service fees?

THIS, people, THIS is what is known as THE MAN.

Now imagine if you could go on strike, meet a lot of other really cool people who totally understand your love for your job and how hard you've struggled to get anywhere with it, and your anger at being taken advantage of by corporate, AND get some free donuts and Hansen's soda?

It's enough to make you want to shake a sign up and down in the air.

Seriously, though, I don't know what it is about those picket signs, the sturdy but lightweight wooden stick they're stapled to, the bright colors, the big rectangle over one's head, but something about them just makes me want to shake 'em up and down. Especially after the sugar rush of a few free cupcakes.

SO.

That's what I'VE been up to.

But enough about me, let's talk about MY DECEMBER TOUR! Yes, all one show of it.

Sam, one show is not a tour. One show? One lousy show?

People, first of all, it's a tour if I damnwell say it's a tour, so don't question me. And second of all, it is NOT a lousy gig, it is actually a very COOL gig in the culinary institute of a very cool college in a very cool town in snowy southern New Jersey.

AND, it's already sold-out, apparently.

Wha??

Yes, this is what they tell me. BUT, if you live in very-cool-New-Jersey and are interested in coming to this show, definitely contact them and find out for sure what the story is. It ain't over til it's… I mean, it ain't over until the fat lady can't get a ticket… you know what I'm SAYIN'?

Sorry. Bit punchy right now as I type this. Punchy for good reason though! It's almost the end of the marathon run of studio time here in Los Angeles, getting the new band album ready for your precious ears! Yes, every day and night since November 26th (that's the Monday after Thanksgiving - yeah, it feels like a lifetime to me too) my wonderful producer Ethan Allen and I (no ottoman jokes, please) have been tucked away in a small garage in the ultra-hip Silverlake neighborhood, rocking away with the new recording!

Well, every day and night that is, except for the two days when we had the whole band in a bigger studio in the much-less-hip Van Nuys neighborhood to record the big drums, slamming bass, and pounding guitars. That was a good two days. Not only because it involved more free food, but because on said instruments were none other than the drummer from THE MOTELS, the bassist from THE FRAY, and the guitar player from GNARLS BARKLEY!

Aaawww, yeeaah. Sammy gots herself some HOT players, people!

And not only hot, (and I mean that), but also the NICEST and most talented folks you could ever hope to meet. AND they also enjoyed the free food, which made us instant friends.

So I can't tell you more right now, but just trust me when I tell you to put "Bigger Speakers" on your holiday list, because you are going to want to crank this jam up LOUD, my friends. Like punk rock loud. Like sign-shaking, stickin-it-to-the-man, Sandra-Oh LOUD.

The one thing I can tell you, is that we are no longer called The Bones. Yes, I too, was very sad to see this perfect and perfectly-applyable name go, but alas some metalheads in Sweden have gotten to it first, and while I can't say I'm a huge fan, I do admire their good taste in band names. And yes, I could've forged ahead and just vowed to become a global force with my The Bones, before they are able to do it with their The Bones, but they already have about 12,000 more "friends" on myspace, so to avoid a future lawsuit, I have let it go, and am now in an identity crisis of epic pop punk band proportions.

But, name or no name, we shall prevail! And I hope to have something to sell you sometime in the new year. In the meantime, hope your 2007 was good to you, hope you have a great DeShamberber and a wonderful holiday season, and if you live in super-cool-New-Jersey, hope to see you out there!

Sam
p.s. Why don't we end the way we began? With another devastatingly cute photo:

NEW "SASSY" EP AVAILABLE NOW at iTunes, CD Baby, and www.myspace.com/samshaber. "Sassy" is energetic, raw pop - perfect for road trips, parties, or just mopping the kitchen! Download away...
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BOOK SAM FOR YOUR HOLIDAY PARTY!
Now is the time to book Sam Shaber for your holiday party! If you were thinking that a little humor and music and maybe some hair flailing would top off your holiday evening perfectly, email us here or call 917-453-0502 and we'll give you the details (and even
references!). Dates are available in December and January all along the East Coast.
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And now...

HELLO!

How's that for a cheery opening, eh?

So somehow November started and I didn't pay attention - it just snuck up on me like a… like a… well, like a lion in a candy shop.

I have no idea…

The point is, I'm writing to you on a plane headed for one of my favorite states - Colorado! Yes the "boutique" Colorado tour starts today in Fort Collins, a lovely little town with a railroad track right down the center of it - like as in literally you're sipping your soy latte in the great café known as Avogadro's Number (a goofy yet slightly pretentious name for a goofy yet delicious college town café) and suddenly the earth shakes, your soy foam wobbles, and you look to your left to see a MASSIVE engine passing by down the MIDDLE of the street. Just like that. Ho hum. No, nothin' weird going on here in Ft. Collins, we're fine, just a typical day with a %*&$! TRAIN driving through the middle of town…

But really the point is that I've been enjoying myself in Los Angeles lately, gearing up for the new recording with The Bones, but also learning a few things. Thanks to my friend Laura (once featured in this here epistle as my "much disgruntled friend Laura," when we were carded by a sixteen-year-old waitress and denied the Irish lagers we had so justifiably earned by riding our bikes over an hour to Pasadena to get to the damn pub in the first place), thanks to Laura, I found myself at a non-profit bike shop learning how to change a tire on Monday.

What?

That's right. The wonderful Bicycle Kitchen in LA is a non-profit bike advocacy organization which, among other wonderful events, hosts a women-only bike maintenance workshop on Monday nights. And it's FREE.

How great is life? Just when you think we're all burning up and getting shot and fighting unwinable wars and pissing off the entire Middle East, along comes a FREE women-only bike maintenance workshop - AND right next door to a gelato place. Eh?

EH?

(Scary, isn't it, how good we've all become at tuning out the tragic events happening constantly. Our mental defense mechanisms might render us completely lobotomized in a few years' time. Or completely dominated by some fascist force which actually does care.)

Sorry.

OK where was I? Oh yes, the Bicycle Kitchen.

So I learned how to remove my rear tire (always had the front one down, but with all those dirty, greasy cogs and chains and whatever on the back, I'd never attempted the rear tire…) and I learned how to take both the tire and the tube off the rim, check the tube and tire for rips and leaks, patch them both temporarily, (with a dollar bill! who knew?) and put it all back together. I also learned how to adjust my gears, handlebars, and spokes. I learned about chain tools and tire tools and lights.

Now I just need to get a flat tire so I can show off my new skills.

Ok, I'm not really gunning for a flat tire, but I do know that as wonderful as the women at the Bicycle Kitchen were, (and great punk rock hair too, by the way!) and as much as I feel I've fully grasped all the concepts of basic emergency bike repair, I will forget absolutely everything they've taught me if I never have to do any of it again. Or, like, for a year.

For instance, I was once shown very carefully and lovingly by my father how to change a car tire in case I ever got a flat on the road. That was in 1992, and I've never had a flat tire. Do you think I have any idea how to change one now?

And yet, even with the greatest of bike maintenance skills, there are still occasions where one will get into a bind - like a recent ride with Laura where suddenly her chain SPLIT open, fell PLOP onto the ground, and there we were, two invalid bike riders standing in the dust by the off ramp from the 5 into Griffith Park, thumbing a ride. How could we fix that sitch, people?

And after much pleading from husbands and girlfriends on cell phones to NOT thumb a ride, a beautiful thing happened. Not only did someone pull over and stop to help us, but that person was driving an EMPTY minivan. I mean EMPTY as in NO SEATS in the back. And we were soon to find out the even more impossible dream that the reason this man owned a minivan in the first place, and the reason he'd taken to seats out, was --

We know, Sam! To capture and rape young, helpless women found stranded by the off ramp to the 5!

No, people. Calm down. This was not a capture and torture situation. Ahem. The reason our new friend had nothing in the back seat was because he is a huge bike rider! Not only a rider, but what we call an ADVOCATE. A BIKE ADVOCATE rescued us from our plight and put our bikes right where his usually goes, in the back of his minivan!

What's a bike advocate, Sam?

Okay, I don't really know, but if nothing else, it means he knew the nearest bike shop and whom to ask for once he dropped us off there. He also knew that we would be just fine in their capable hands.

BUT WAIT! I haven't even told you the best part. This wonderful man's name was Peyton Skelton - wonderful firstly because it's so unusual that even in my thick, disintegrating brain, I could never forget it - and wonderful secondly… drum roll…

I said, drum roll.

Drum roll, Sam?

Just go with me on this one. Do it.

Okay, we're doing the damn drum roll. Now please get on with it, and this better be good.

Peyton Skelton is a lighting technician!

For THAT you made us drum roll? Why, we oughtta gr---

No no, not just any lighting technician. Peyton Skelton is the lighting technician on GREY'S ANATOMY!

Ooh, that IS a good one.

See? This is what I'm saying. Now of course Peyton was way too humble to be bragging about this esteemed job title while Laura and I sat, exhausted and relieved, in the now-Burbank-bound minivan. But he did mention being a lighting technician and he had a little label with his name on it that had strayed to the passenger seat of the minivan which means it then left the minivan forever when it stuck to my butt, and I discovered it a few moments later as, bike all fixed, we got back on the road. So I peeled off the label and went home to look Peyton up, just for sh*ts n' giggles, and there he was, listed on the crew of my favorite show of all time.

I still have the PEYTON SKELTON sticker in my bag. I can't bring myself to throw it out. Is that sick?

So I'm not sure why I went to the Bike Kitchen after all, since apparently I do better NOT having these skills. Maybe next time I'll get rescued by Clive Davis. Or PRINCE. I mean hey - it's Los Angeles after all. Anything's possible.

And, if nothing else, I also got to experience the amazing gelato place next door to the Bicycle Kitchen. Why is it amazing? Because they have flavors such as Chai and Mangoberry, and two scoops are only TWO DOLLARS, AND you can fill up on all the FREE sprinkles and nuts and sugar crystals your rotting teeth desire! I mean really, people, FREE TOPPINGS? It's like a revolution.

I, myself, chose one scoop of "Pear & Mint" (which looks like "spearmint" without the "s," the way they have the label on their freezer case. Okay the line was a little long so I had some time to think.) And one scoop of - wait for it - Green Tea with Toasted Rice. I mean, oh my god. And I put sugar crystals(!) and rainbow sprinkles on the whole thing and… okay now I'm hungry. But suffice it to say, a great time was had by all. Then I rode home in the darkness with my new bike lights, didn't get a flat, didn't run into Peyton again, and arrived safe and sound.

I've also been taking in some of the local customs in LA - such as the huge Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festival at Halloween. The Saturday before Halloween, they take over the historic Hollywood Forever cemetery and build elaborate altars, perform native Mexican dances and music, and sell muchos de tamales! George and I headed over and had ourselves a mucho bueno time, (so much for my Spanish, eh?) wandering between the altars decorated to honor and celebrate the dead, and the costumed revelers with their huge feather headdresses and little skulls attached to the backs of their heads.

And on Halloween itself, I found myself at a pumpkin-carving/pool party in the Valley. Now how LA is THAT, eh? Oh yeah, I still got it, people.

I also amused myself (and apparently no one else) by creating a special Halloween drink for the pool party - I call it a Spiked Eyeball. It's lager and hard cider in a clear glass with two drops of blue food coloring (turning the whole shebang green, you see) and then a spike sticking up into a chocolate ball in a foil wrapper designed to look like an eyeball. How great is that??

(Except, being that it's LA, the chocolates had melted in our kitchen window before the party, so the eyeballs looked - well, more like mushy pieces of foil with a toothpick stuck into them. But it's the thought that counts.)

And now here I am on the road again, ready to enjoy a few nights in Colorado! I'm calling this a "Boutique Tour" because it's just three shows in one state - quite an unusual trip for me, who is used to driving eight hours a day, through four states at a time, playing for six weeks straight. BUT, there's lots still to be done on the new album project and lots more pools to swim in back in LA, so must forge ahead and get back before they drink all the soy lattes--

Okay, I have no more pool parties to attend, I just felt like making this a boutique trip.

And thanks to everyone who's bought their digital copies of the new digital EP, "SASSY"! Don´t' forget you can download single songs at iTunes or buy the whole thing from CD Baby, or straight from www.myspace.com/samshaber. And don't miss the ridiculous animal slideshow I spent an entire Saturday putting together (again, for my own amusement) - if you've ever crooned over a kitten or pined for a puppy or begged for a bunny or…

I could go on like this for a looong time, people.

Clearly, Sam.

The point is, and there's always a point somewhere, I made a little slideshow set to music on my myspace page which I'm very proud of and which I've been making into DVDs for friends and family. I call it "Rock the Cuteness" - because again, I'm very amused with myself - and you can see about five minutes of it at www.myspace.com/samshaber, and then you can wonder what the hell I've been doing with myself these days if I have this kind of time!

So I hope your Fall is going well! Time to fasten my seat belt, put my tray table up, and shove this computer under the seat in front of me, keeping the area around my feet clear, (see? I really am on an airplane right now.) And hope to see you out there!
Sam

SHOWS IN OCTOBER

Thursday, October 4th, 2007 7:00 PM Buffalo, NY
Concert and Music Biz Q&A with Sam Shaber!
Medaille College
18 Agassiz Circle
Buffalo, NY 14214
716-880-2127
medaille.edu
Price: Free to Medaille Coll Community
Get a chance to ask questions about life in the music business from an industry pro! All ages welcome.
******

Friday, October 5th, 2007 8:30 PM Durham, NH
University of New Hampshire, Wildcat Den
83 Main St.
Durham, NH 03824
603-862-1586
unh.edu
Price: Free
Sam returns to UNH for another great performance!
******

Saturday, October 6th, 2007 6:00 PM Clayton, DE
Delmarva Folk Festival
16th Annual Delmarva Folk Festival
352 Downs Chapel Rd
Clayton, DE
delfolk.org/Festival2007/fest.htm
Price: adv $20 mem/$25 non-mem, DOS $30
Sam plays at 6:00pm. All ages welcome! Camping too!
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Welcome to SamOcttha ShOctober!

This is the third time I've started this monthly epistle. I was going to talk about nostalgia and the smells of Fall, but that was boring me. Then I started telling you about the new BONES ALBUM which starts recording later this month, but I didn't want to give anything away.

So now here we are. Third one's the charm, eh?

What I REALLY want to talk about is my new favorite obsession, The Fratellis. Blasting through my headphones as I type this. This band is so amazingly amazing that my vocabulary breaks down when I start to write about them.

Try, Sam.

Okay. Well The Fratellis have a lot going for them. First and foremost, they are Scottish. Say no more.

But it goes so much deeper than just their alluring and enviable heritage (and accents.)

The Fratellis are that band that you play over and over and over again and they make you feel good every time. They make you slap your steering wheel and wonder where they've been all your life. They make you smirk at all the passers-by who aren't privileged enough to have this rousing, raw, smirky music pounding through their iPods.

Yes, I did the steering wheel slap with Green Day as well, but that was an angry, emotional slap. I was beating out the world's problems on my little Mazda. Slamming George Bush in the head with each FWAP.

(That's not an anagram. That's supposed to be the sound your helpless palm makes when it slaps your steering wheel. It really is a fruitless exercise, people.)

But the steering wheel slapping that goes on with the Fratellis is laced with joy, with energy, with smiling, exploding, stomping, hilarious ecstasy. It is Highland dancing, lager swilling, friends jumping, loving music, complete with lyrics that make no sense.

And I mean NO SENSE.

But do we care? NO! Because we're too busy jumping up and down to notice. Too busy FWAPPING our steering wheels or running with our iPods on, through our own personal music videos.

The Fratellis are one part Beatles, one part Pogues. They have a little Billy Joel. Maybe a dash of Katrina and the Waves (sorry, but it's true and it's the greatest guilty pleasure you'll ever know) and they are also slightly Jet.

Of course Jet are slightly everyone else, so…

But where do we hear this revelatory band, Sam?

Good question! Well until the world of email allows people to add soundtracks to their newsletters (which I'm sure won't be far away - if it's not already here. Anyone?) Until then, you'll have to take your lazy-ass fingers over to your internet browser and type Fratellis into your GoogleYahooAsk box. (Does anyone use Ask.com? That whole Jeeves the butler campaign was mighty confusing.)

Anyway, once you have found your Fratellis (or MY Fratellis, as I like to think of them) on myspace or iTunes or their own website or wherever, you must find and listen to "Creepin' up the Back Stairs", "For the Girl," "Henrietta," and well, just listen to everything - you won't regret it, I promise!!

Especially make sure you check out the song "Flathead." It's the tune that was featured on an iPod commercial recently and you thought it was Jet but NO, it was my marvelous Fratellis!

The only sad thing involved with my new favorite band is that I actually got to see them live not too long ago, thanks to my good friend Stacey who is always looking out for my musical well-being and improving my life with the bands she turns me on to, but at the time we went, I was a Fratelli virgin, and while the packed, hot Troubadour was totally jumping that night and I had a great time, I had not yet become the worshipful fan that I am now, and thus the night was unable to reach its full potential. Now that I love this band, they are selling-out much huger venues and I can't get tickets. Of course.

Huger?

Yes, I just invented that word. See? That's what The Fratellis do to a person. They make them create words. Which is possibly why their songs make no sense. For example:

Okay, there's no example. I just found a website with all the Fratellis lyrics and actually they make a lot of sense. I think I've just been jumping up and down and fwapping so much, I didn't pay attention.

And I was about to quote some Fratellis lyrics for you here, but I'm worried their true brilliance won't shine without the music playing at the same time, so you're just going to have to pick up that lazy a--

Yes, Sam. We heard you the first time.

Great. It's settled then. I expect your full reports on my desk(top) by Monday.

Oh, I slay myself.

Oh, we know, Sam. We know only too well.

In other news, I have two more obsessions to share with you this month. Some of you may remember my strange interest in fountains - something I discovered a couple years ago. (I discovered the interest in fountains, not the existence of fountains themselves. I already knew they existed.)

Right. Anyway, point is, I've had run-ins with some great fountains this past month, including a classic at Lincoln Center. But my new favorite (sorry, Seattle Center) is now the crazy black granite, hockey puck-shaped fountain in Detroit's Metro Airport. The streams start from the outside and shoot into the middle in different sized arcs. But they don't always keep a continuous stream. Often they are just worms of water flying through the air into the center! I don't know how the fountain-makers did it, I don't know why these little "worms" of water don't just drop straight down once they're released, but they fly through the air, keeping to their orbit, and creating this overall impression in the fountain of grown-up solid water streams with little baby streams jumping up and over into the center. Like salmon swimming upstream maybe.

I was good for about fifteen minutes on this fountain. Until two successive people hit on me and I had to escape to my airport gate.

My only complaint about this hockey puck worm salmon fountain (other than the airport vagrants hitting on people around it) is that the best view of the thing would clearly be from above - to get the clearest image of the worms versus the grown-ups - but you can only stand level with the thing and see it from the side of the action. They should build a fountain balcony around it and serve lattes.

I always support the serving of lattes.

The only way to see the fountain from its proper viewpoint is with the help of this little elevated airport train thingy at Detroit Metro that goes inside from one end of the terminal to the other. You get a gratifying bird's eye of the granite hockey puck from up there, but only for about 4 seconds while you're standing in the train looking over the terminal out the other side, waiting for the doors to close. And then it's gone.

My last obsession of ShOctober is "TransAmerica." Yes, I realize this movie came out two years ago and we've already been through like two Oscar cycles since then, but I'm a little slow to the take, ok?

Thanks to Netflix, I was armed with TransAmerica on the Midwest tour last week and it haunted me completely. I kept starting to talk about it on stage - with no punch lines ready or anything - just a complete uncontrollable urge to tell the world about this wonderfully unexpected movie and the young actor who plays Felicity Huffman's son. I hope this guy can act as well when he's thirty-three as he's acting when he's twenty-three because his talent is so pure right now. (Says Sam, the revered film critic. Not.) And even though he's playing a hardened teenage street hustler and male prostitute, he still manages to look like a little, innocent, scared child half the time, which of course is the point.

Shaber, what kind of movies do you LIKE?

I know. I know. I'm into all the kooky stuff. (And I didn't say "kinky" I said "kooky." Minds out of the gutter, people.) If you want to have a Sam Shaber Movie Night party with your friends, here are the films to show:

1. Sid n' Nancy
2. Dogs in Space (good luck with this one - it's only on VHS and very hard to find, but it features Michael Hutchence as the lead singer of a fictional Melbourne punk band from the late-70s, and everyone lives in a filthy squat and parties all the time.)
3. My Beautiful Launderette (possibly Daniel Day Lewis' first film? Nothing like a laundromat and a gay Cockney/Pakistani love affair. That's got Shaber written all over it, eh?)
4. TransAmerica
5. Moonstruck

Moonstruck, Sam?

Yeah, well, I'm not TOTALLY crazy.

6. When Harry Met Sally (again, not TOTALLY…)
7. Comedian (Jerry Seinfeld's documentary about doing stand-up. A MUST for any artist!)
8. Thelma and Louise (you don't remember how truly great this movie is until you watch it again. Trust me.)
9. Quicksilver (I just haven't seen this one in years and I'm suffering from acute Fall nostalgia, so if you include this Kevin Bacon bicycle-messenger-makes-good epic in your party agenda, please invite me!)

And of course, what would a Sam Shaber Movie Night be without the piece de resistance…

10. BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN

Of course.

Of course! So as you can see, my film taste is not the most highly cultivated. A film school student would be appalled. Not a Citizen Kane, or a Fellini, or even a Taxi Driver in the whole lot. Just drugs, trannies, yuppie romance, punk bands, and gay sex. What a selection, eh?

And on that disturbing note, now I must leave you. Or really you must leave ME, because you've gotta have something more important to do, don't you? But if you find any great fountain websites or new bands you want to share, please reply to this email address! And if you're going to be in Buffalo, NY, Durham, NH, or Delaware this month, hope to see you out there!!

Be well,
Sam

"Sassy" - the new digital EP from Sam Shaber! Available now at iTunes and www.myspace.com/samshaber. "'Sassy' is uplifting, college road-tripping, foot-kicking, energetic raw pop."

SASSY is now available on iTunes! Visit www.itunes.com and search for Sam Shaber.