heidicuda's Blog

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

I have a gentleman’s agreement with my boyfriend. I will refrain from getting new tattoos if he detoxes from aspartame, the crud found in Diet Coke and just about everything else unfit for human consumption. Truth is, I love each and every tat I own but the canvas that my body has become feels just right as it is. However, the urge will always be there. Por ejemplo: I was interviewing a couple of four legged thrashers, i.e., skateboarding bulldogs who shred on wheels, and one of them was named Tillman. (below, of soldiers and puppies/photo clip Paul K. Siegmund)

I asked his owner why he named him Tillman, and he said it was a tribute to Pat Tillman, the young soldier/athlete who gave up multi-million dollar endorsement deals to serve his country. I used a photo of Pat Tillman, who got killed in the line of duty in Afghanistan, in a package I produced about the bulldogs, who will be featured in this year's Rose Parade. I couldn’t get the image of the soldier out of my head. What he sacrificed, how much he must’ve loved his country to give up the superstar lifestyle that awaited him, how he opted for the sturm und drang of life during wartime. The fact is, I want a tattoo of Tillman, the photo you see above with that look of dogged determination. But I gave my word, and I’ll have to settle for the heart-shaped American flag I inked the week after 9/11… Check out Tillman's canine namesake featured in our story (click this link to view it). In a stroke of genius, Fox 11 editor Shaka Armstrong added a hot hit of rapper Lupe Fiasco's ode to life on wheels, "Kick Push," as a tribute to those with the tenacity to soldier on in this lifetime. It is, after all, a dog's life. xoxo hsc

(below, thrasher pup/photo credit Rodger Howard)

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

I ain't gonna lie. I love me some West Coast rap. The weird thing about my career is it was a Left Coast rapper that lured me to Lost Angel-eez. I was a young chica fresh out of Berkeley living in Frisco, minding my own beeswax when a gent with the name of a king offered me two tix to the very first Lollapalooza. Those were my salad, er tequilla, daze. I was living the Kerouac life in the Fillmore district and every day led to another night where knocking back shots in smoky bars listening to cool music seemed the most intelligent thing to do.  

So there I was at Lollapalooza '91 at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in NorCal getting an earshot of the O.G., Ice T, and his rap/metal band Body Count. Now, keep in mind, I thought I was down, uknowhuhmsayin'? I'd gotten my degree from U.C. Berkeley, I'd read Malcolm X and listened to Marvin Gaye and Public Enemy. I believed in my heart I knew what time it was. But the O.G. blew all that out the door when he hit the stage. The man invented reality rap, and he laid it on a mainstream audience in a most revolutionary way. Suddenly, we were transported to South Central. We all felt and saw the inequities, we got a front row seat to gang warfare and the troubles the community was facing with the police.

 Needless to say, I decided the man deserved his own book, and I pursued the project the way a pitbull pursues the pantleg of a robber creeping over his fence. Some day I'll fill you in on the deetz, but the bottom line is: Ice T and I wrote the first book of rap, "The Ice Opinion: Who Gives a ****?" It was published worldwide and the rest is gangsta history. It's now taught in colleges across the country, including my alma mater and it's that project that moved me to SoCal, a complicated barrio which I will never leave.

So there I was a few weeks ago, in Watts, interviewing a new Left Coast rapper, Jay Rock, whose skills make him the most likely to succeed in '09. (below, Fox 11's Julio Duran, Jay  Rock and Cuda)

He's the first kid straight outta Nickerson Gardens to get a major record contract, and irony of all ironies, it's with Warner Bros.--the same label that dumped Ice T when his songwriting got too real.

Nevertheless, Jay Rock's got a true shot. His single, "All My Life in the Ghetto," conjures up the spirit of the Westside so beautifully, you'll be rolling in your 6-4 in no time.

When Fox 11 photog, Julio Duran, and I met up with Jay Rock at his home, it was for our latest half-hour special, "Promises to Keep with Tony McEwing." Focusing on Locke High School in Watts, "Promises" is the sixth in a series of academic documentaries I've written and produced about the new Civil Rights movement.... the work of a few who are doing all the heavy lifting to revamp the education system from the bottom up. Jay Rock's featured in Part 2, and despite the fact he's a Locke High statistic--didn't graduate, didn't go on to college--he's taking his street smarts and encouraging kids to seize the day and take advantage of the new opportunities they have at Locke for a proper education.

Truth be told, I pray for Jay Rock each night. He's a good kid who's still caught up. He comes from Blood turf, and it's reflected in his music. Ice T came from Crip turf and the day he took off his rags, he left much of the drama behind him.

In the words of the O.G., Ice T: "My lethal weapon's my mind." Truly, a terrible thing to waste.... xoxo hsc

(below, me and Julio down by the schoolyard)

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

Arrgh. I'm a lily livered landlubber and the idea of going on a four-day entertainment cruise with two thousand horny people sloshing down the hatches initially gave me an imaginery case of the norvo virus. Nevertheless, when duty calls, call me Horatio Hornblower. If the job entails giddying up on a Carnal, I mean, Carnival Cruise ship to document the hedonism that is the Kandy Kruise (watch video link!), then hand me a mic flag and get out the way. With my boyfriend out of town, I sailed the seas of cheese solo, armed with a good book and dirty thoughts. (below, ship's ahoy) 

The annual Kandy Kruise, featuring a world-class poker tourney, hot music acts, burlesque shows and a bevy of babilicious broads, is staged by the good folks behind the Karma Foundation, a superb party entity that assuages its conscience by raising money for charity. The cruise ship sailed gently down the coast to the Mexican Riviera, where we were treated to stunning views of Me-he-ko and a day-trip to Ensenada. DJs Scribble, John Huntington, Mr. E and rockers Schwayzie kept the various decks jumping 24 hours a day with bodies in motion to the ocean.

Okay, so if you've been reading this column for awhile you know I'm a serious investigatory reporter. I've put bad guys outta business, helped change legislation and have been chronicling the new civil rights movement in a series of half-hour, academic specials.

But now, when I walk into the Fox 11 newsroom, the only thing anyone wants to talk to me about is the Kandy Kruise!?! Anchors are lining up to set sail on next year's love boat, and it seems everyone wants to know, "Were the women really that hot?"  (below, the Kandy Girls)

A serious investigation revealed: "Yes!!!" They were hot, smoking hot, unbelievably beautiful. And the Karma Foundation honchos cull the earth to find the loveliest she-vixens in the land. I met Russian, Romanian, Carolininan, Scottsdalean, Gardenian, Hesperian and Northridgean femme fatales. In fact, there were so many beautiful women, they started to cancel each other out. The rare birds with the crooked noses or dimples in the derriere start to look a shade more interesting.

Not that the boys seemed to notice. They were boogying across the deck like bug-eyed kids in a Kandy store. I mean, c'mon, there were ling-gurr-ee shows, bikini contests, beauty pageants, and women wearing nothing but a smidge of paint and pixie dust. In the woids of Buster Poindexter, it was hot hot hot.

At one point, I began to feel a bit sorry for a blow up doll who'd been innocently batted around the dance floor like a cheap piece of plastic. But as my cameraman pointed out, "It looks like she's having a good time."

So all's well that ends well....  xoxo hsc

(below, he dressed like Captain Stubing, but I think it was Gopher)

 (photos: Giovanni Solano)

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

The last time I kicked it with the Damned, the legendary UK punk band was performing a Halloween show at the Hollywood Athletic Club. It was 2001 and Fox news camerman Bob Keet and I were hanging out on the group's tour bus with singer Dave Vanian, who was vamping it up in white face paint, an elaborate velvet cyclops headdress and a classic gentleman's tuxedo from the 1920s.

Since its inception in 1975, the Damned continues to perform to adoring audiences worldwide, who revel in its Gothic sense and sensibilities. And Californians continue to benefit year after year as SoCal has come to be its annual Halloween home. Tonight, for All Hallow's Eve, the House of Blues on the Sunset Strip is the lucky dog to showcase the theatrical super heroes, who will be joined by the Adolescents and the Wooly Bandits in an Indie-103 sponsored show. On December 12, the group is releasing a new album, "So, Who's Paranoid?" stateside.

I caught up with Damned founder, guitarist and vocalist, Captain Sensible, right after a taping of
"The Craig Ferguson Show," which airs tonight.

Me: Did you ever expect to be doing this for nearly four decades?

Captain Sensible: No. If I did, I think I would have come up with a better stage name (he laughs. Real name: Raymond burns).

Me: How did Craig Ferguson treat you guys?

Captain Sensible: The funny thing is, he got his start as a drummer in a punk band in Scotland. He said he started the band after seeing the Damned perform. He told us all this backstage before we played. He says the Damned led him into show biz. So that's pretty cool.

Me: So many bands you started with in the mid-70s only lasted a year or two before burning out. But you've endured for decades. What's the trick?

Captain Sensible: Early on when we just started out, we were fortunate enough to tour with T.Rex, who told me "Forget everything else. It's about the songs. Get a good melody together and make it memorable." Till this day, that's what I love. Some screeching guitar, some power riffs. You know, Cheap Trick's still got it, and for the same reason. Those are good songs, good melodies.

Me: How pivotal has the Offspring been in introducing you to a new generation (note from Heidi: The Offspring's singer Dexter Holland signed the Damned to his Nitro label in 2001 and the OC band also covered the Damned hit, "Smash It Up" for the "Batman" soundtrack.)

Captain Sensible: Oh I love those boys. I went to see "Batman" when it came out. When the song ("Smash It Up") came on, I started laughing my head off. Not because it was a particularly funny part of the movie, but because I could hear the sound of cash registers.

Me: Yeah. That must've made you boys a nice chunk of change.

Captain Sensible: We had no idea 30 years ago this would still be going  on. Tonight, it's going to be crazy in L.A. I don't no how we're going to squeeze everyone on the list. Lemmy from Motorhead will be there, showing up last minute, grabbing a drink at the bar. Slim Jim Phantom's coming out. Sky Saxon from the Seeds. It's fantastic for a bunch of old farts.

Me: Inspiring new punk farts along the way....

Captain Sensible: That's really the best part of punk. That anyone can put together a band, it's not overblown. No one can say it's stupid or dumb. Kids pick up instruments and write protest songs. And there's always plenty to protest.

Me: Has it been a good life?

Captain Sensible: Not too bad. You meet some nice people and all the beer's free.

.... xoxo hsc

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

I'm a super sucker for bluegrass music, 'specially when it's outdoors, the air is warm and the scent of fresh-roasted corn wafts delicately in the air

That's just what I got on Saturday afternoon, as I hitched my daughter to our buggy and zipped out to Underwood Family Farms in Moorpark for an autumn hootenanny that was all hoot and part nanny (baa aa aa aa).

Oh it was a scene, man. There were 600-pound pigs, a corn maze that had us in a twist, some rockin' out to the Whisky Chimp Band and the Triple Chicken Foot, and an animal show that starred a pair of cuddly rodents.

Just what the doctor ordered for a hardened city slicker. At the ripe ol' age of 10, I mourned my lost youth on the day I finished reading "Charlotte's Web," because I didn't believe spider's could talk. Well, our trip out to Underwood gave me back some of that youth by teaching me pigs could fly. It warms your heart to know a country fair is just a few miles north where the crow flies, even when you're from the big city.

Back to those pigs, we met some hogs with feet that barely touched the ground as they raced to their slop. The pig races continue at Underwood Family Farms' Fall Harvest Festival this coming weekend, Oct. 25 & 26, where you'll also get an earshot of zydeco, folk and bluegrass by such artists as the Boney Mountain Mamas and the Catterwailers. Tix are ten bux on weekends, and three during weekdays, with the festival continuing through Halloween. Be sure to pick your own pumpkin on the way out. As you can see in the photo above, I brought my own.... xoxo hsc

L.A. Girl/L.A. World

I got the call around noon.

The offer? Two tickets to paradise. A terrace suite at the Hollywood Bowl to see Neil Diamond on a hot October night.

I’ve been in and around nightclubs since the age of 11, and Diamond is the last great artist I had yet to see live. After last night’s show, I’ll carry him in my heart always.

It was my night alright. While thousands of motorists opted to grow long in the tooth on the Highland Ave. offramp, counting stars while they missed the opener, I parked for free at the Metro and hopped an underground train non-stop to the Bowl.

Best buck-twenty-five I ever spent. After soaking in the neon lights of Tinsel Town for a sweet second, I hotfooted up Highland. I didn’t want to miss a moment of his two-hour performance. When I got to my suite, it turned out I was sharing it with Steve Appleford from Rolling Stone, who I hadn’t seen since a Jayhawks show at McCabe’s in 1992, where post-show we knocked back watered down tequila at the Ski Room while listening to Neil Diamond on the jukebox. (How’s that for kismet?)

It was only the third time I’d danced since I quit drinking five years ago, and it felt so good. The first time was in Germany when I fell in love, the second at Jamie Foxx’s Oscars party and third time’s a charm. It was during “Cherry, Cherry” and Neil wouldn’t take no for an answer. He got everyone up off their bums where they stayed and swayed all night.

And lemme just tell you, when Neil Diamond performs, there’s no fluff. It’s all him, no filler, no choirs from Harlem, no opening acts or juggling monkeys. He gives it to you, straight, no chaser. So if he’s gonna put out, at the age of 67, the least you can do is get off your ass and dance.

Cher was among the revelers last night and he reminded her from the stage that the last time they’d been to the Bowl together was in ’66, when he was performing with his rock ‘n’ roll review and she was Sonny’s sidekick.

Didn’t matter that four decades had gone by. Diamond’s music is just as vital today, maybe even more so. It’s uncanny that so many songs of heartache were written by a person with such a positive spirit. Midway through the show, I realized there isn’t any performer who can pack more of an emotional wallop into a simple turn of phrase than Diamond. He's like a poet-pugilist.

I wasn’t the only one with a tear-streaked cheek when he started to sing, “Play Me.” Its purity and simplicity, like a minimalist painting. In anyone else’s hands, its lyrics--“You are the sun, I am the moon, you are the words, I am the tune”--would come off as pokey and twee. A trite little ditty in need of a rewrite. But when he sings those words, it hits you in places you didn’t even know you had.

I watched him last night, with his grace and ease that makes it seem at times as if he's merely floating across the stage, and I thought about all the other performers I’ve seen. With the exception of Elvis, I’ve seen them all, or at the very least, all I care to see. And I couldn’t come up with a category for him. He’s like this inexplicable national treasure, a solitary man, a party of one.

As he sang songs off his new album, “Home Before Dark,” a Rick Rubin-produced marvel that shows he’s still incredibly relevant knee deep in his sixth decade, I thought how few performers continue to record songs of value after a couple of lucky hits. With Diamond, I guess it’s never been about luck. To wit, the first track on “Home Before Dark.” It's an epic, seven-minute song of heartache (but aren’t they all?) titled “If I Don’t See You Again.” Its quiet reflection on love and pain and longing is as good as any song he’s ever written and then some.

As the big screen at the Bowl played Super 8 tape of him with his family in Brooklyn as a kid, looking like a Jewish James Dean, Diamond sang about his youth and his dreams of being a songwriter. The crowd was still, just taking it all in, the knowledge that they were witness to greatness. A greatness made even grander by his humility, his constant reminders from the stage of just how grateful he is to do what he does. A unfeigned humbleness, not part of any act.

And just when you think he’s played every song you came to hear, he sits in a chair as if he’s just an average Joe belly up to a bar and says, “L.A.’s fine, the sun shines most of the time and the feeling's laid back….” You can feel the burn in the audience, a heat radiating from the inside, and by the time he winds up to, “But I got an emptiness deep inside and I’ve tried, but it won’t let me go….” it’s like we’re all grasping to envelope our souls with his words.

As the traveling troubadour recites the song’s finale, “I am, I cried, I am said I, and I am lost, and I can’t even say why. Leavin’ me lonely .... still….” it seems so clear to me. We all came out to hear his simple, raw, pure, poetry so we could fill up those empty places that hurt us deep down inside with whatever it is that Neil Diamond has.

It’s some kind of magic.... xoxo hsc

(Performance photos Jared Milgrim; Portrait by Jesse Diamond)

When Charlie Paulson decided to name his band Black President, he didn't have Barack Obama in mind

"I was thinking more along the lines of Chuck D, Nelson Mandela, Samuel L. Jackson in 'Pulp Fiction,'" says Paulson. It was 2004 and the name was more of a reaction to the current administration than anything else, he says.

I've never seen Paulson, a bad arse guitarist who gave the band Goldfinger it's signature style, without a gee-tar in hand. For years covering the Hollywood club scene, I'd look up and find Paulson on stage, lending his talents to anyone worth playing with. I'd pop into Club Make-Up and find him on stage backing Dee Dee Ramone or a bevy of drag queens.

He's a guy who simply loves what he does. 

(Paulson, second from left)

"There are people that play music because they think it's cool," he says. "And there are people who are born to do it because they don't have any ****ing  choice. I'm 37, I could have found a much more comfortable way to make a living. But instead, I pick up my guitar and derail my life all over again."

And thank God for that. With Black President, a hot hard band with attitude AND a message, Paulson's finally found a perfect fit.

"There's so many musicians that just follow trends," he says. "All I ask is that music is sincere. I just got off the Warped Tour and I guarantee, there are days that some of these guys wake up and don't know what band they're in. They don't have a statement to make but they've got the factory issued sideways haircut."

He says the anecdote to all that emo crap are such bands as the Bronx, Rise Against, Against Me and humbly, he'd like to add Black President, which fulfills his personal quest of being in a band that's a cross between "Fear and Nazareth."

"This band is so liberating for me," he says. "I get to hang out with three dudes who were all my friends before we formed a band so we've got this amazing brotherhood." For Black President, he teamed up with vocalist/guitarist Christian Martucci (Chelsea Smiles) and hardcore east coasters Roy Mayorga (drummer) and Jason Christopher (bassist).

Lyrically, the band's self-titled debut album, which just came out on Cobra Records, represents all the things Paulson says he's ever wanted to say.

"You know when you're comfortable with somebody, you say whatever comes to mind? Or those things you think of saying after the fact that would've been the perfect comeback? Well those are my lyrics on this record," he says.

As for the name of the band, which even garnered some coverage in the Washington Post, Paulson says it's been more of a curse than a blessing.

"It was supposed to be a middle finger," he says. "I started writing the songs after Bush's second election. Obama began making waves after we were already a band. I'm going to vote for him but he's not who I had in mind when I came up with the name. He and Biden will at least try to do the right thing.... but are choices suck."

Black President, however, doesn't suck. Check them out tonight at the Key Club with Unwritten Law.... xoxo hsc

L.A. Girl/L.A. World Let's just lay it on the table: I love boys from Jersey. Always have, always will. Although I'm a native Cali girl--NorCal by birth, SoCal by choice--those East Coast boys with the souls of poets and the passion of a million waves crashing on the Jersey shore ... well let's just say, they had me at, “How you doin’?!” My boyfriend's from Jersey, my boss is from Jersey, my best friend's from Jersey, my favoriteX is from Jersey and my coolest penpal, Danny DeVito, is from Jersey. I always tell my single pals if they want to find true love, find a boy from the Garden State. They mean it when they say, “I love you.” Their parents taught them about respect. They’ll throw down for you in a heartbeat. Bottom line: They know what it means to be a man. So it's no surprise that I fell head over heels for Gaslight Anthem. If this band from New Brunswick hasn't stolen your heart by track three off its new album, "The '59 Sound," go back to your Miley Cyrus beaaach. (FYI, you can catch Gaslight Anthem live with Rise Against, Alkaline Trio and Thrice at the Hollywood Palladium on Oct. 31, Nov. 1, and Nov. 2).

I knew Gaslight Anthem was from Jersey 30 seconds into the first song, a succulent post-punk tribute that swoons with rock and soul. “The ’59 Sound,” newly released by SideOneDummy—home to wicked great music--opens with the sound of a record needle quietly scratching over and over. It’s the hush of a thrashed piece of vinyl that’s been left on the turntable too long, but you’re too bizzy getting bizzy to do anything about it. It quickly leads you to the title tune and images of Bruce Springsteen, the Cure, the Doors and Tom Petty start dancing in your head. In other words, all things great and wonderful.

I caught up with frontman, Brian Fallon, and asked him to splain a few things:

HSC: How come I knew immediately Gaslight Anthem was from New Jersey? Just by the sound...

BF: Because we’re the underdogs. I’m from the Shore. Everyone’s always looking down on us because we’re in the shadow of the City. It’s honest, working class music. I come from a place where everyone tells the truth. You get what you get and that’s what we do with our music.

HSC: How is it possible to merge a sonic landscape with elements of Springsteen, Tom Petty, and poets like Joe Gittleman (from Avoid One Thing and the Mighty Mighty Mighty Bosstones)?

BF: It’s because we all bring something different to the table. Alex (Rosamilia), our guitarist, is totally into the Cure and that’s why you hear that reflected in our music. If I was just by myself, I’d sound like Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan, but Alex paints these really beautiful landscapes with his guitar. No one in the band (which also includes bassist Alex Levine and drummer Benny Horowitz) tells the other guy what to do, we just share everything. I learned that from Bono. He said, “Share everything,” and that’s been my mantra. It doesn’t matter who does what, at the end of the day, you’re all still sitting in the same van, in the same lousy hotel room, playing the same shows. It keeps things honest.

HSC: Just like a good Jersey Boy. Tell me why mommas raise nice boys in New Jersey?

BF: Well my mom wouldn’t tolerate any less. She got me into music in the first place. She was in a folk band in the ‘60s called the Group Folk Singers. They were all Jersey Girls who met in college in DC. I started writing songs from the age of 11.

HSC: I also tasted a lot of soul in this record. Pinches of Marvin Gaye and Otis. What’s up with that?

BF: Yeah, a lot of this record was born out of my love of soul music. I love Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, I’m also obsessed with Elvis. I feel like this record could have been written in 1978 just as easily as 2008.

HSC: What’s New Brunswick like?

BF: It’s a small city, college town, a lot of people just come in for the season and then abandon it. It’s almost like people are just passing through, like a port station. You can stand on any corner there, and just watch people come and go and you’ll never see them again.

HSC: Tell me about the name, Gaslight Anthem.

BF: It’s a reference to the Gaslight Club in the ‘60s where Bob Dylan learned how to be Bob Dylan. It’s also about burning the midnight oil, how to keep on trucking no matter what you have to face. You just keep going until you make it through. You know, do or die.

xoxo hsc

(photo Lisa Johnson)

Tony Valdez is a gentleman and a scholar. His "Midday Sunday" show is a fab forum for community affairs, and the veteran Fox News reporter has hosted the program for nearly two decades. I was lucky to be a guest on a recent Sunday, and Valdez graciously gave me the opportunity to talk about the work and the music. (click on the highlighted word links above and check it out, por favor). You rock Tony .... xo hsc 

 (Hot shot of Tony doing his thing, courtesy of my pops, Paul K. Siegmund)

Best part about making my way around the UK is everywhere I went, they were playing Amy Winehouse. Boutiques, cafes, restaurants, pubs, all celebrating the music of the damaged muse. She sounded even better in her own country and despite the tabloid crapola, you could tell how much the citizens of Londontown cherish her talents. Got that diva on my nightly prayer list for sure.... In any case, below are some snaps of the fun I had directing a film on kids who couldn't give two shites about celebrity tabloids, but rather, immersed themselves in learning about the lives and works of English literature greats--authors who did hard time and/or burned at the stake while fighting for the freedoms of the pen.... Below, Bobbie got Gat (or Heidi Does Parliament).... 

The kids are alright.....

The River Cam in Cambridge

Cambridge Professor Malcolm Guite, who gave us an earshot on John Milton, my hero

C.S. Lewis'  backyard

 The crew, before....

 The crew, after....

If you're suffering from the bittersweet symphony that always accompanies the pending doom of Labor Day, head to San Diego on September 6 and revel in the knowledge, that in SoCal, we can claim on endless summer.

As Slightly Stoopid brings its succulent brew of smooth Cali reggae stylings to San Diego's Open Air Theatre, all you'll be pondering is just how right the Beach Boys were when they declared no end in sight of warm nights, hot girls and cool ocean breezes.

Slightly Stoopid, with its part-ee vibe and Dead-like jams, formed as teens in Ocean Beach and were quickly scooped up by Skunk Records, an indie label founded by Sublime's Bradley Nowell and producer Miguel Happoldt.

Childhood chums Kyle McDonald and Miles Doughty, who share vocals, bass and guitar duties, headbanged their way into the music biz as huge fans of Motley Crue, Guns 'N Roses and Metallica, and in 1995, just out of their tween years, founded Slightly Stoopid and never looked back.

"We've been sentenced to life on the road," says McDonald, who says the band averages about 200 shows a year. Stoopid also includes musicians C-Money (trumpet/sax), RyMo (drummer), DeLa (sax) and Oguer "OG" Ocon (congas/harp/percussion).

Despite thumbing its nose at major labels, the band's attracted a mondo fanbase (known as Stoopidheads) and put out its new and crazily titled album, "Slightly Not Stoned Enough to Eat Breakfast Yet Stoopid" on its own label, Stoopid Records.

The September 6 show marks the final date and a homecoming for the band's "Tailgate 2008 Summer Tour," which also features Pepper and legendary reggae greats Sly & Robbie.

Doughty says the main reason Stoopid's opted to do things DIY is because they wanted to maintain 100 percent creative control over their career.

Listening to the new album, it's clear that freedom reigns. Just as Sublime never fit any industry mold, Slightly Stoopid is in a class by itself, as comfortable covering a Grateful Dead song (check out the smashing version of  "Know Your Rider") as creating fab new jams like "On and On" and reminding kids to just say no on "No Cocaine."

"We keep it real and our fans appreciate that," says Doughty. "And we're in it for the long run. There are so many bands who take the major label route, get a hit song and are able to milk it for a year or two. Then they scratch their heads and try to figure out, just what they're gonna do for the rest of their lives. We have longevity and we've worked hard for it."

If Stoopid is as Stoopid does, then these boys ain't so dumb.

xoxo hsc

Back from the UK and it was definite anarchy... As soon as I can find my digicam cable (which i put in a very special place thus, the fact it's MIA) i will be uploading/downloading some killer pix from the journey.... And please be on the lookout for a cool as 'ell interview with the band Slightly Stoopid... Nothing dumb about those boys, who were discovered at the age of 15 by Bradley Nowell of sublime.... Not a bad pedigree... xoxo hsc

Am directing a film documentary in Londontown and will have an earful and an eyeshot for you next week.... The weather and people are brilliant and have fallen madly in love with Cambridge....  Went "punting" today on the Cam (i.e., a lazy river ride) and can no longer live without Costa Americanos.... Am writing from Niche, a ruby red bar with the only non-alcoholic beer in the entire UK.... It's poised on Regent Street in the heart of Cambridge and the DJ-owner Marcus spins a fab blend of vintage soul on Wednesdays.... Me and my ragtag film crew are "Bowfingering" about Britain and have managed to piss off every security guard in this great land... They take their no-filming policy quite serious but being a crafty Loose Angle-eez news producer I've managed to have my way regardless.... Am filming  a dozen young writers who are exploring good and evil in Western Literature (from Tyndale to Tolkien) and so far we've learned, freedom rocks.... Before I sign off, please take a moment to watch my latest Fox News half-hour special, "A League of Our Own with Tony McEwing".... Long live South Central.... xoxo hsc