Monday, April 19

How do you not love this, seriously?

Number one, in unrelated news no one cares about, I finally have a job after months of unemployment.

Number two, I am answering my email again SORRY IF ANYONE TRIED TO GIVE ME A TIP

Number three, this article is just fantastic. I also love Jonathan in a way that both mystifies and annoys my loved ones. It's part of my charm. So I laughed my way through this guy's article about his wife cracking her head open at a Jonathan Richman show. I can only hope that I find someone who also tolerates my love of Jonathan and frequent Jonathan-based puns.

There she was: the love of my life — the woman who helped me seethrough the painting, so to speak — dazed and bleeding on the floor of The 5 Spot. Panic gripped my brain, blood trickled from a gaping wound in her head, and a murmur went through the crowd as everyone turned their attention from the stage to the woman splayed on the ground. Frantic thoughts buffaloed through my consciousness: Was she OK? How did this happen? Were we gonna miss Jonathan Richman's second set?

She had to have known, even in her concussed state, that my loyalties would be torn. She may be my one true love but he, on the other hand, is Jonathan motherfucking Richman, patron saint of nerdy punks and quirky pop tunes. The first time she went to my parents' house — back in North Reading, Mass., right off 128, just past the Stop & Shop, natch — she had to take the very lengthy, very detailed "Modern Lovers Walking Tour." She knew that Richman is my Elvis, the performer who had most shaped my life and my skewed views on love and romance, and who taught me almost every trick I know when it comes to wooing a lady.

We went to Government Center — we didn't put any stamps on any ledgers — and we'd been through the Lonely Financial Zone by the sea. We had been to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, though we didn't have the money to see the room where they keep the CĂ©zanne. We had walked through the Fenway in the afternoon, our hearts in our hands. We talked about how we would grow dignified and old, and how nobody ever called Pablo Picasso an asshole. We walked around on a summer morning, bop-she-bop-she-bop, enjoying the breeze and the smells of the dawning, bop-she-bop-she-bop — if ya catch my drift.

Read the rest here if you want to, and I assure you, you do. It's one of the cutest and most enjoyable things I've read in a while.

Tuesday, April 13

Letter to the Argentinian audience

In Banbang there is a poem-presentation letter of Jonathan for the Argentinian audience. He says something like this:

“Hi everyone, I’m an American singer and guitar player. I’ll be playing a while in your country with Tommy, my drummer.
I don't know what songs I’ll sing. I don't have a previous set-list, and I even change the lyrics because on stage I think on the moment, in the communication with the audience.
I’ll sing in different languages, not with a perfect grammar because I sing with the heart not with the head.
If I see you after the show and I don’t talk to you, please excuse me! It's not a joke, my vocal cords are weak. No words after the show.
I don’t think about a concert, not like a singer-songwriter, I invite you to a party where the music is… us!”

WTJU Radio Show

Shaun Cullen sent us this announcement:

"This Tuesday, April 13 from 5-7 p.m. EST, I will be hosting a Jonathan Richman marathon on the University of Virginia college radio station in Charlottesville, VA, USA, WTJU 91.1 FM. My show will feature two hours of non-stop Jojo classics and rarities from all phases of his career. You can listen anywhere in the world, just visit our website at, and don't hesitate to make a donation to our independent, non-profit, volunteer radio station".

Thursday, April 8

Barcelona, Sala Apolo, 10th March 2009

Film maker Manuel Huerga recorded this long video (more than 36 minutes!) of last year's show in Barcelona.