Cherished fans,

How are you?

That’s not a throwaway comment. I want to know. Write to us. Email us. Talk to us at a show. Do you like us? Do you want more of something? Less? The same amount, but in a different style or with a different attitude? We are a work in progress, and while we take great pride in the inherent qualities which we think will soon thrust us into a blinding and emboldening international spotlight, along the way we can gain from tips from those we serve: You.

We serve you, so in a way you are our boss. Kind of, but not really. After all, we are the band, so it seems weird to say you “rule” us in any way. Maybe it’s best if we both think about the relationship in whatever way is most gratifying to each of us, and we’ll just kind of stay out each other’s business in that department.

I love you guys.

Anyway, it is with humility but plenty of optimism that I report on the Joel Newton Earth-tet’s goings on on the French Polynesian island of Bora Bora.

If you’ll recall our objectives as stated in the last post, we set out here to get drummer Cedric laid and then find a local musical hero with whom to rehearse and then win over the musical hearts and mind of the relaxed, primitive and naked Bora Borans. 

Success has been mixed, but there’s more good than bad. 

It turns out people here wear clothes much like people in Nyack and other locales we’re acquainted with. Gauguin seems to have misrepresented things in his paintings, which depict nudes very casually and widely distributed across the land. At any rate, Cedric had to learn from scratch the art-form that his passion for science caused him to neglect for decades – that of acknowledging and then acting on male sexual desire in a manner that results in intercourse or at least heavy petting. I kept telling him that half the fun is getting them undressed, when in fact we all know the undressing only accounts for about 20% of the fun. (Of course, I am only talking about fully consensual sex. We’re not talking Bill Cosby moves here. All JNET’ers adhere to the highest moral standards. Bassist Janice is no exception. And none of this applies to me, as I’m happily married. Just wanted to make that clear.)

Anyway, Cedric seems to have succeeded. He’s got a shit-eatin’ grin on his face most days, and it isn’t from eating shit.

And there’s more good news. Remember that our chief objective is to put on an epic show with a local musical hot-shit. Someone who can ingratiate us into the Bora Boran mainstream and help us prove that our uniquely rich brand of art-meets-populist music can make waves with some of the most beautifully tranquil and unassuming people in the world. A people whose simplicity and open-mindedness are likely mirrored across the globe, providing a roadmap for our imminent journey to planetary triumph.

To this end, master Tahitian drummer, Pani Geilani, joined the band after hearing about our affiliation with Taylor Swift. It turns out he thought she was a goddess. I was unable to contain my opportunistic urges:

me: Taylor Swift is a goddess.

Pani: Really?

me: Kind of.

Pani: Then how did she play with you?

me: Goddesses get bored being in Goddessland. Sometimes they like to play with earthly bands, including hot jazz-funk-pop operations.

Pani: But she’s more of a country-rock-turned-pop singer. What role did she have with you guys? What does she know about advanced harmony and chromatic passing tones?

me: Wait, you know about that stuff? I thought your people were simple and primitive, and often unclad.

Pani: You racist ignoramus.

me: Just kidding. And you look great in clothes. Do you want to join the band?

Pani: For how long?

me:  Till Tuesday, when we fly to Afghanistan.

Pani: Just kidding, I am usually naked.

Me: You’re hired. Is there a Denny’s around here?

Pani: There is. A naked Denny’s.

I still don’t know if Pani will be dressed or naked for the gig, and we haven’t decided where we’re playing, but he assures me that he can not only drum up popular interest in a show but also procure a venue: apparently his younger brother, Jo, age 9, walks all 16 of Bora Bora’s Mayor’s dogs daily and is overdue for compensation. Early chatter would have us believe that we’ll be be playing at either Town Hall, the Mayor’s backyard (next to the chicken coop) or, quite dramatically, on the rim of the central volcanic mountain.

I’m told the Denny’s is right next to the volcanic spot we might be playing at.

I’ve also learned enough from my 5 weeks on the road with JNET to know that when locals tell you there might be a Denny’s, there might not be a Denny’s.

**quick note: as I’m sure you can understand, JNET’s logistical ups and downs lead invariably to emotional ups and downs, and there have been moments, frankly, where we’ve all turned to the bottle. Nonetheless, I’m happy to report that we’ve so far resisted the excesses that have poisoned so many other epic bands. Case in point, the one time I mimicked a classically ballsy (and reckless) Jimmy Page move, I had the good sense to keep the bottle corked.

Anyway, beautiful fans, including the normal American ones, I love and thank you for the push you’ve given me and Cedric and Janice. I also thank the generous Dr. Ivana Vakov. We shan’t let you guys down. After traveling the world and meeting and positively impacting all sorts (millions, maybe billions) of people of all accents and skin colors, we will return to you, beloved American brethren and sistren, and knock your pants off with newfound worldliness and globarrific mojo. We know that as great as America is now, our humble contribution can only make it better. We’re gonna have so much fun in the process.

And even if things get really bad and we are killed by, or brain-washed into joining, the Taliban, or if we decide that we just can’t return to America as long as Chris Christie is in it, please remember that our roots are in Nyack, and Jones Beach (area) and Dayton, and ain’t no one takin’ that away from us, unless they’re ready to pay us a lot of dollars.

Serious love,

Joel and the Earth-tet gang

Cherished Joel Newton Earth-tet fans. How are you?

We’re in the air right now (heading South, somewhere not too far from Hawaii). We’re in an airplane: becoming big rockstars, but still haven’t learned how to fly on our own.

Wanted to update you briefly on our goings-on:

MAJOR RECAP #1: Our Jones-ish Beach concert of last Tuesday (less than a quarter-mile from the official JB concert site) was amazing. We got 23 legible signatures on our mailing list, and I made meaningful eye-contact with many more an adoring fan. As has been discussed, the audience was naked, probably drunk, and almost definitely overstuffed on complimentary ham sandwiches.

So we feel good. Except for our guest, Billy Joel. He got stung in the testicles by one of Dr. Ivana Vakov’s giant carbon-sucking jellyfish while being theatrically ballooned off our floating stage. One of its tentacles had surreptitiously slithered up through an electrical conduit onto the stage and wrapped around Billy’s mic stand. When he did his signature bawdy move with the microphone, it zapped him where it counts. Poor Billy was still grabbing his noticeably swollen nuts in the air and grimacing while paparazzi gathered around our limo to catch the landing. All press is good press.

MAJOR RECAP #2: Our Dayton dairy farm gig with the Dolores J. Stangaroni Elementary School Orchestra was also a big success. Our first gig without a superstar guest, I held my own in the vocal department, and we slayed the audience with a mix of sizzling jazz-rock-fusion originals and choice pop hits from the last few decades, with sophisticated musical restylings. The only problem is that the Satan’s-horns-evoking double cutaway of my Gibson SG electric guitar apparently didn’t sit well with some of the more God-fearing in the crowd, many of whom had driven to the gig in tractors. Mistaking me for Diablo himself, 30 or 40 of them grabbed pitchforks from their wagons and decided to end the concert early, by chasing the band to the city limits on foot. Thankfully, local hero, Dr. Ivana Vakov, whose Nobel prize (for proving that the Earth is hard and crunchy on its surface but much more chewy at its center) and whose warm reception by the Nathan McFliggle Institute for Earth Sciences was the reason we came to Dayton in the first place – Dr. Vakov talked the angry mob down by synopsizing her scientific work and promising each one of them $100 cash (from her NASA grant).

The rude zealots still didn’t sign our mailing list or buy our JNET mugs and pencil erasers, but they did refrain from killing us, which was nice.

So….

We are off on the next leg of our quest to become global superstars by melding exquisitely refined jazz-funk music with catchy and pulsing pop genres, often with the help of big name stars (we’ve already been through Billy Joel and Taylor Swift, and almost Ted Nugent – see early posts). This has all happened in about a month, so we’re feeling good about ourselves. Cedric and Janice are feeling so good about themselves that they had not one but two lunches at Denny’s today.

In a few hours we will arrive in Tahiti, and then Island hop to the luxury, peace and simple, often naked lifestyle of Bora Bora.

Our goals here are four-fold:

1) Procure voodoo dolls and punish the silly people from Dayton.

2) Find sultry naked women for Cedric to engage with. Ever since a travel agent showed him some of Gauguin’s paintings from his Tahiti period, Cedric, making up lost time from forgetting to have sex for 30 years, has been under the impression (as Gauguin too may have been) that sex in French Polynesia is like saying, “Hey, how ya doin?” in other parts of the world. I hope he’s right.

3) Find a local musical hero with whom to do a sensational concert, which in turn will help us:

4) Prove to the world that we can win over not only sophisticated audiences (Nyack, Long Island’s beach set, etc), ordinary folk (Dayton), eventually evil and demented barbarians (Afghanistan’s Tora Bora region), but also relaxed, primitive, and typically naked people (Tahiti and Islands).

We realize our earth-circumnavigating aspirations and desire to surpass all other bands in history is slow in bearing fruit (it’s been over a month, and we’re only half-way around the world, and we haven’t even booked our gig there yet), but we are relaxed, proud, and confident. Apple wasn’t built in a day. The Rolling Stones are still touring, so I guess they still think they have something to prove. Menudo is pretty much washed up and, apparently, has no Dayton following.

So, please, dear fans, please raise a glass to us, as we rocket onwards. We couldn’t do it without you. Mostly us. We couldn’t do it without us.

xo,
Joel