So my brother's girlfriend Julia is a diehard NKOTB fan, and her and her girlfriends, now of legal age and with a little disposable income, followed the New Kids on their reunion tour back in '08. They went all out, getting limos and backstage passes and all the goofy shit that a 10-year old girl would want to do to follow her favorite group in the universe, but with the means to do so since they are all now of a certain age.

One of said girlfriends is some sort of event planner or project manager or what have you, and she was in touch with the New Kids' agent or manager or something, and she convinced said agent/manager/drug dealer to let her throw a benefit for the New Kids' charities (women's shelters or kid's literacy or women's literacy, I dunno). One or a few or all of the New Kids were supposed to attend the event.

Anyway, This all went down back in October, and a few weeks before, Julia's girlfriend got word that, unfortunately, the New Kids had to cancel and wouldn't be able to make it out to the event. On the plus side, their manager/agent/baby mama apparently was able to book another group of that era to make an appearance at the show.

I was at my brother's place for a bonfire, Julia was there. Over our beers and hot dogs Julia told me "The New Kids can't make it out for that benefit show! I'm so angry!" And while she was clearly upset by it, she made my life with the next sentence out of her mouth. "They're sending out The Fat Boys in their place! What the hell!"

Now, you might not believe this, but there was a time when beatboxers were once heavily in demand in the rap world. The Fat Boys, The Skinny Boys, Doug E. Fresh, Biz Markie... they were all actually popular AT THE SAME TIME! These days, it's a novelty, as most beatboxers don't rap, and most rappers don't give a shit. I always have; I founded the Scribble Jam Beatbox Competition in order to showcase these beatboxers and to build a network that might not have otherwise existed. After Scribble Jam dissolved, I didn't really know or meet anyone else that I could build with, and to hear that The Fat Boys were two degrees of seperation away from me was a godsend. Their beatboxer, Buffy, one of my all time favorite people ever, sadly passed away back in 1995 and while I would have loved to have performed with him, I would find unbelieveable pleasure in performing in his stead, to bring together one of my favorite musical acts of all time.

"Julia. You have to do me the biggest favor anyone has ever done anyone ever in their lives!" I told her. "GET ME IN TO THAT BENEFIT, AND HAVE YOUR FRIEND INTRODUCE ME TO THE FAT BOYS!!" At this point, I realized that I was actually strangling her and giving her noogies. After apologizing profusely, she agreed. About a week later, I saw her again, and she told me that it was on, and that I would get to meet Prince Markie D, Kool Rock Ski, and some dude she called Uncle Louie.

I got to the event, which was at a Roller Rink filled with extremely attractive women in tight clothes and roller skates, traveling round and round to a soundtrack entirely made up of NKOTB tunes that the girls on the bus in 4th grade used to sing ad nauseum. It was just as obnoxious to hear these grown-ass women singing the same stuff, but the jiggle factor was high, so I stuck around and hung out. I met Prince Markie Dee first, and when I told him that I would love to work with him, he kind of politely smiled and said "sure," as I'm sure he's heard that about 50 times per day for the past 20 years or so. "Come find us at the afterparty," he said and walked over to take some photos with some sexy women.

Then I met Uncle Louie, their manager. He explained, "You wanna beatbox? Alright. Later on, I'm gonna go skate first."

Several hours passed. I spotted them several times throughout the night, waiting for a good chance to approach them again while slurping on a soda and pretending to be nonchalant. The afterparty was at a club literally attached to the roller rink, and Julia's girlfriend asked me if I could help set up some things in there. I left the rink to do so and in coming back, I found that the Fat Boys were gone! In the words of Smoothcast guest K.O., I had my chance, and I blew it.

I freaked out, wondering where the hell they went, when I saw Uncle Louie coming in from the back door of the club. I rushed back over there, and as he passed me, I kind of grabbed his shoulder and said, "Hey Uncle Louie! Listen, I was wondering if I could beatbox for you?"

He looked at me smiling, maybe a little tipsy. "Sure. Go for it." If there's one thing most beatboxers (good ones anyway) will tell you, there's nothing good about beatboxing in a noisy club. I can project my voice better than most people, but even the greatest set sounds like little clicks and pops in the storm of a crowd of talking people and a DJ spinning in the background. "Can we go outside real quick?" I asked. He looked at his bodyguard, a beefy Italian dude with a Yankees cap on. "It's cold outside. Real cold."

"I'll just be a minute," I told him. The pressure was on. I walked outside and knew immediately what he was talking about. The wind cut to my bones, and I had on way more clothes than either of these cats. My impromptu audition was quicker than I wanted, but I got my point across. About a minute in, his bodyguard, possible a little glassy eyed, gave me a hug. "You ripped it!"

"I ain't finished yet." I told him. I kept going. By the time I was done, Uncle Louie was literally slack jawed.

"Send me a video!" He told me, shaking my hand and smiling. "I need people to see this!"

"I'll get it to you tomorrow!" I told him. That night, I beatboxed again for Kool Rock Ski, we talked about all kind of things, including how to eat right (dude looks like a drill instructor these days) and I chatted up Uncle Louie some more. I didn't get a chance to talk to Prince Markie Dee, but a few hours after my encounter with Uncle Louie, he got a wireless mic and asked me to beatbox for the crowd. I went off several times my friends. It stands as the highlight in a not-particularly-illustrious career. The next day, and for a few days afterward, I wasn't able to record my video, as I was too busy telling everyone how dope my Saturday night was, and instead, I convinced my friend Eric (who, many years ago, gave me the name Smooth Lou) to record a video of me at his house in Bensenville. With all of that said, here is the video.

After many months of wondering when, if ever, I would hear from Uncle Louie, he called me up a few weeks ago to let me know that I'll be performing with them, Doug E. Fresh, BIZ MARKIE and all these other great, great performers. It's truly amazing to me, but hopefully after more fits and starts than I care to mention, this will be the beginning of something big. In case you're wondering, this doesn't mean I'm a member of The Fat Boys. Uncle Louie explained it to me thusly: "Think of it as the biggest audition of your life." The venue seats 10,000, which is about 5 times bigger than the biggest audience I've ever had. I've been working on some dope stuff and I hope to impress everyone.

Thanks again to Uncle Louie, The Fat Boys, and to everyone else for all of their help and support, and I hope to see you all at a show real soon.

Just chilling right now, at O'Hare, waiting for a flight. I set my homepage to smoothlou.com (which I recommend to you as well!) in an attempt to force myself to add things to it. So far, not so good. What better time than waiting for an aeroplane then. And what town am I lucky enough to be leaving for? If you guessed "Indianapolis" you're right. Also, if you guessed "that seems pretty boring" you'd be right too. I've got my lunch of champions (read: Gardettos original recipe and a Coke Zero unnamed soda) and sitting beside me in my laptop bag is my handy AKAI LPK25 portable keyboard. This thing is fantastic; I've been messing with it for about 3 days now, and since I'll be somewhere I know next-to-nothing about, I've got nothing better to do than to start cranking out the jams. I've been performing shows using other, more talented people's instrumental tracks for years, and I've never recorded any of these songs that I really like, so I'm making beats for them that will essentially, at first, be total ripoffs sound-alikes. What can I say? The best way to learn anything is to start with what you know and move forward from there. If it works out, I'll post it here in a few days. If it doesn't, well, I won't quit my dayjob after all.

Here's a rouuuuuuugh version of the song as I worked on it with my brother. Let me know what you think or contact me HERE. Thanks.

At My Best in Love



I promise you like I promised a dear friend: 2010 will be the year of living well to spite my enemies, the number of which seems to grow as I grow older. I'm working on my photoshop skills, as you can see here. They're, well, okay for a guy who's a human beatbox (as long as you don't count Scribble Jam's inaugural Beatbox Champion A-Train of course).

There's a glut of podcasts coming your way in t-minus 3-2-... well, soon. I don't have an internet connection at the crib -- part of being a member of the working poor I guess. We have new podcasts from horror movie director Tony Wash, old school Smoothcast regulars Robert Gallegos (see if you can spot me in this Johnny Rev video you lucky devil), Kevin (KO), and many more... not Mandy Moore though. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's great too, but if Carrianne can't book her it won't work out...

2009, you broke me man. You kicked me in the knee and peed in my eye, and you told me again and again to just give in and lose and die... But I wouldn't do it, and with the sympathetic ear of people who love me, and people who held me up and carried me when I couldn't go any further (and I hope you know who you are), I made it through. Or at least, I hope to! Honestly, the year is still 24 and-a-half hours from completion, and there's a chance, as miniscule as it may be, that I still might not make it.

So reader, if you wake up on 12/31 to the infotainment news channel of your choice, and there's a story in the local briefs about, gosh, I dunno, a bus full of chimps smashing into an apartment and the lone tenant being crushed by the bus and subsequently trampled about the face and neck by the aforementioned great apes, know that it was me, and that I died doing what I love -- watching monkeys trample things.

And to 01/01/2010 12:00:00.01, you are the starting line for what I hope and pray will be the year I've been working up to my entire life, and in the event that anything major and noteworthy (or, let's be honest, miniscule and blogworthy) happens in 2010, YOU blog reader, friend, confidant, YOU will be the first to know about it.

Sincerely,

Smooth Lou