John Krane: News

Haiti needs help right now, and if you're not Pat Robertson or Rush Limbaugh, you've probably got enough of a heart to want to help. For whatever reason, though, you might not have gotten the opportunity. I know how it is.

But check it out, here's a website you can go to in order to make a donation: Operation Smile.
Go there and donate anything--anything at all--and forward the receipt to johnkrane at gmail dot com, and I'll send you a track from my upcoming album and add your name to the liner notes. Just to make it fun, the amount you donate will correspond to the size of the text. So if you donate $1,000, the entire album cover will pretty much be your name.

Please help the people if you can.

Part of my routine with this website is to check for new links, as they let me brag about good reviews and cry in the shower about bad ones.

I ran across a Spanish website today that linked to the main page here. One poster copied the DB album cover (without the title of the album, of course, no sense in crediting an image you're stealing):

And another promptly posted:


As one commenter put it: "ajjajja, qué brutal, Scrapp".

But that is so awesome. I just wish I knew who the water-drinking guy is. My hope is that he's the Spanish, water-drinking, tubby form of Brad Pitt with a longer wiener who makes more money.

Alas, I unfortunately look a lot more like the kid from Bruce Almighty, a movie made famous by nobody seeing it. I give you Johnny Simmons:

And me:

_{Lettuce pray.}
I decided to fly out to Johnny Simmons house this week. Our exchange:

JS: Did you have to knock so hard, Jesus, my mom's gonna...holy crap, you're ugly!
ME: Hey, same to you. I'm you from the future!
JS: What? No you're not!
ME: Yes I am.
JS: Prove it.
ME: OK, fine, let's see...you're going through awkward times and you have acne. You have sex in cars and you don't like your parents.
JS: Oh my god...it's uncanny...
ME: Also, your penis is enormous.
JS: What? Not really.
ME: Then you must tell people that it is enormous. Start thinking of metaphors.
JS: This doesn't make any sense...
ME: Like, my penis is like the swine flu on super-steroids, because it's big enough t---
JS: Ok, ok, why are you here?
ME: I'm here to warn you, Johnny Simmons.
JS: Is it about my pubis?
ME: No, that is fine. In fact, it is enormous, too. I have come here to warn you about starring in Evan Almighty. You must not do this.
JS: Uh....I was already in that. I didn't exactly star. But that was 2007.
ME: Then I am...too late...oh, Lord, let my enormous penis save me from this!
JS: You're not really me from the future.
ME: Yes, I am! Now away, in my Back To The Future style car!
JS: That's not a DeLorean. That's not even your car. That's one of mine. Give it back.
ME: Did you have sex in it?
JS: No.
ME: Then goodbye! Away I must go! To, the, Future!
JS: And I saw you slip your album into my mailbox. Take that out. I'm not listening to that crap. I saw what they wrote on the Spanish discussion boards.
ME: Maybe you should go star in more family-friendly Apocalypse films.
JS: It's, like, so obvious you didn't see the movie.
ME: It's so obvious you don't read your scripts.
JS: At least I can book time in a real recording studio.
ME: Well, it's been nice chatting with you, Mr. Johnny Simmons. Any last words?
JS: EVERYONE SHOULD BUY YOUR ALBUM BECAUSE IT'S SO AWESOME! ALSO NILSSON COVER!!

Meanwhile, new album's on track for a possible December release. We'll keep you updated.

Not like the Staind song.

So, what has I been up to? Studying grammar of mine, to be sure. Also, working on my new album, Sun Dog, which will have a killer song up here very soon.

I'm also issuing a call: anyone who wants to be on this album can. You don't have to be very good at an instrument (hell, I'm not), you just have to have an idea. Email me at johnkrane at johnkranemusic dot com if you've got recording equipment and you want to be part of an epic CD, or if you're around the St. Louis area and want to drop by to record something.

Of course, I have final call on how the sounds are used on the CD, but no one cannot contribute. I'm especially looking for a good female singer and any concert instruments.

The response so far on my Facebook page (add me by searching John Krane on Facebook) has been pretty spectacular. Tentatively, this album will involve a full set o strings, numerous bassists and guitarists and drummers, Polish lyrics, Polish singers, clarinets, flutes, odd ambient sounds, and more. Get in on it.

King Of Pop

Michael Jackson is dead at 50, no doubt due to some weird circumstances or a medical condition that will be clearly detailed by the media over the next few months. Jokes are rolled out--he's starring in Thriller 2, little boys' pants are being flown at half-mast, etc, etc.

The thing about this is, people should not mourn the passing of the man Michael Jackson. Dude was, at worst, a pedophile, and at best a weird dude with some goddamned kids. He can be pitied or hated, or if you're feeling really empathetic you can blame that noise on his dad. Not my game, but do what you'll do.

The music should be remembered, though. This was a dude who made Free Willy 2's soundtrack shine. He was the best child prodigy since Mozart, yeah, I said it, bringing soul music to new heights when it was already at new heights, and the dude could barely piss in a toilet. Thriller and Bad were completely brilliant. He may be the only pop artist to become as popular as the Beatles while still being artistically valid. Sure, he was commercial, too, and weird as hell, but that doesn't affect the music.

When I heard that the King of Pop died, I could have cared less. He's not making another Bad. I have no desire to buy his new products and endorse his fucked up ideas and fucked up life. My first feeling was relief--awesome, he's done. He can't do anything else. No more Jacko.

It made me go watch the Thriller video again, though, and somewhere during those electrifying 14 minutes I thought to myself, damn, we should have been mourning for the last 20 years. Because somewhere along the line, a musical genius died, and it sure as hell wasn't of heart failure yesterday.

You got guys like John Lennon, who was by all rights an asshole, and you can say, "it's alright, because he tried to better himself and helped move peace forward." And that's completely true. And you've got guys like Phil Spector, who is an asshole, and you can say, "looking back on his contributions, they really weren't that great, and we realize that now that he shot a woman." Fine.

Michael Jackson, though, was a genius who spun too far out of control, and he may have been a terrible, awful, or simply misguided human being in his last few years, but that doesn't make it any less terrifying when he looks up at his date with cat eyes and yells "GET AWAY!". It doesn't stop your feet from moving involuntarily, tracing out invisible light-up flooring. It doesn't stop your mind from instantly queing up the music, including every single instrument down to the most minute detail, when you read the words "I Want You Back," in this article, little Michael's voice swooping up to hit the high notes and making little girls swoon all over the country, back when it wasn't all creepy for him to want that to happen.

And yeah, there are the trials, the masks, the balconies, the fires, the Pepsi, the Jesus juice, the monkeys, but let's keep that in a different annex of our little culture, okay? Let's mock the man all we want, but don't miss out on the music just because the dude was weird.

First demo from the new upcoming album, Sun Dog:

Thanks to the British podcastDalecast for playing three of my songs in a row on the show the other night. If anyone would like to put my music on your podcast, please feel free.

One of my favorite songs that I've written, very old, though. Another live one from The Wedge in St. Louis.

Speaking of St. Louis, anyone in the area should be sure to check out my band, Japanese Bat Bomb, playing this Thursday at the Stagger Inn in Edwardsville.

Here's a Leonard Cohen song, from a live set in St. Louis.


Leonard Cohen writes the best songs, is all.

Doris, Buzz and Friends Digital Download is on sale on this here website that you're on right now, only $5. Buying it helps me get the new album done.

Just click that button, and be sure to put your email address in the "comments" space. You'll get a link to download the album in your email shortly. Paypal is the most trusted online purchasing company in the world, so your information's safe.

Well, thanks to you guys, Doris, Buzz and Friends has had a very successful run since I'd released it last summer. There are thousands of downloads on torrent sites, and sales have been solid, too.

I figured it's time to start something new, something way more acoustically centered and bigger, and something that can be performed more easily live.

I've begun writing a new album that will hopefully be finished sometime in March. No working title yet.

Getting it duplicated will take some extra time (apparently CDs cost money), but check back here frequently--I'll start posting mp3s and demos, and if you're subscribed to the mailing list, you'll get a free single soon.

Thanks to all of you that come to the site--traffic's been really spiking. Especially from China, for some reason. To the Chinese viwers, 嗎/吗!

Note: I got bored, so I wrote this to help the writers of Scrubs save time when writing their television series.
(Cure something from Iron and Wine, or Feist, or The Shins, or Iron And Wine Featuring The Shins and Feist)

JD: You know, sometimes, friends will be there for you...

(cut to shot of Turk frowning. A hand appears on his shoulder. He smiles.)

Sometimes, they can't be.

(cut to shot of Turk frowning. No hand appears on his shoulder. He is a very sad surgeon.)

Sometimes, they want to be, but can't.

(cut to shot of Turk frowning. That one asshole doctor looks over. You can tell that he wants to comfort Turk. He doesn't. Both of them look sad.)

But in the end, what really matters is that they support you.

(cut to shot of Turk frowning, then smiling, then walking away. JD does the same. Outlandish last joke inserted right at the end to mix it up in some episodes. Other episodes are far too serious. Cut to a shot of someone dying instead, or Zach Braff finding something serious out and saying, "Oh, damn..." right as the music hits the last chord).

(Fade to emo)

Some ads have been added to the pages to help pay for the costs. You can help out by buying a CD for one of your loved ones, eh?

New music coming soon.

(buy my record)

All kidding aside, I'm completely OK with the fact that a walrus playing a saxophone will make more money than I ever will.

Some people don't have $10 to spend at iTunes, or think that 192Kbps sucks. So, I've added this option: for only $5 (via Paypal, the safest money-exchange platform on the Internet), you get Doris, Buzz and Friends in high-quality mp3 with newly written liner notes and CD art. You'll also get an exclusive track, not available ANYWHERE. Not even at your mother's house.

Click this button to buy with any debit or credit card.

And if you've already bought the album, and you don't want to pay for it again, shoot me an email (johnkrane at gmail dot com) and I'll hook you up.

As many of my hits are coming from For The Love of Harry, a Harry Nilsson blog, and much of the coverage of Doris, Buzz and Friends centers around how I'm wearing Harry Nilsson's robe in the cover of the iTunes version of that album, I thought it'd be appropriate to post a few words about the one and only Harry Nilsson--mainly for those of you who haven't heard him.

In the summer of 2006, I bought a copy of Harry Nilsson's Nilsson Schmilsson after reading a good review of the re-release. The album was all over the place. The first two tracks are Beatlesque pop that are as catchy as anything written by the friggin' Beatles themselves, followed by a quiet blues number, a very Beach Boys inspired lullaby, hammering rock, the blueprint of the modern rock ballad (Without You), novelty songs, everything.

I instantly loved it. I listened to it while walking to school, while dropping out of school, while in love, while my band broke up. Every time my life changed, Nilsson had a song for it, always in good humor, always beautiful, always perfect.

I bought Son of Schmilsson, soon after, and I realized that humor has a place in serious music. This cat was different--he'd sing, "You're breaking my heart, you're tearing it apart / So fuck you!", but without any of the venom that the lyric would indicate. And he'd make it real.

I own nearly every recording that Nilsson ever made, and when his treasured robe went up for auction, I bought that too--partially because I was drunk, yes, but mainly because I'm unashamed for my affection of the man's music. He embodies everything I've wanted in music; humor, love, perversity, hedonism, sweetness, pop. Perfection.

In his later years, his recordings got rougher, his pristine voice began to fail, but his personality always came through. Nilsson isn't all that I listen to, but he's absolutely a crucial find for any musician who hasn't yet discovered that the heart of a song lies in the heart of an artist.

So Nilsson is important. That's that. I hope you find the time to check him out.

Two new photos are up in the photos section. I owe a thanks to Jason Stoff for taking them, and for coming over to my house and putting up with me.

Listen to my songs for free in "Songs," read reviews in "Press" and buy the album (please) at "Buy" or by hitting up your favorite online music website (iTunes, Rhapsody, Napster, etc.)


This front page is where I post musings and writings, like this one.

A NOIR STARRING TOM
The beer was cold, bitter, and ugly, much like Tom himself as he struggled to maintain his vice-like ass grip on the shoddy wooden surface of the bar stool.

He'd been to worse bars, but no place in the world had the smell of desperation and dog farts like Danny's on 46th street, the sort of place where you'd get into a fight every night if you weren't afraid of getting lockjaw. All around him, the ghosts of industry floated, men who'd failed at their jobs and marriages and now spent their days and nights squandering what little time they had left playing darts with pocketknives and a can of Spaghetti-Os.

"This is a cold beer," he said, waving a cigarette like a baton at the grey, bald bartender, who was smoking a cigar as his fat rolled over his belt like a tidal wave of Jelly hitting New Orleans in the middle of a hot summer day.

"Yep," said the bartender.

"I've never seen a beer served on the rocks before," Tom said, causally picking his nose.

"We mind our business here," said the bartender.

Tom nodded, a grim smile briefly dancing across his features as he expelled a gust of flatulent wind. A sharp crack! went through the bar, but the mood wasn't lifted by Tom's anal acrobatics; it was too dreary of a place for scatalogical pick-me-ups.

Suddenly, the door opened. Several of the bar patrons instinctively headed for the bathroom, thinking that this was last call, but it wasn't; no, there was plenty of time for drinking, and now, there was plenty of reason to.

She stood like an Amazon, eight feet tall and blonde hair all the way down six of 'em, hands like beartraps and eyes like a pregnant steer. Her dress clung to her body, giving her the appearance of a freshly rolled stick of Marmalade sushi, and she scanned the bar with her nose pointed toward the ceiling.

"You," she said, a low Soulja boy grumble, pointing at Tom. "What did you just do?"

"Say, there, I'd think a girl like you could take a guess," Tom said, rubbing his Spiderman handkerchief on his barstool. "I made wind, baby, and you should know that I plan to make a lot more in this here city."

"I've been looking for you," she said. "My name is Viceroy."

----TO BE CONTINUED-----------

It's been a while since I've plugged my CD. I will never make thirty million dollars unless I do, though. So here's what IndieUpdate said about myself and my music:

""This St. Louis-area singer and songwriter brings, first of all, a bit of The Beatles from earlier days, as well as a bit of the Gilbert O’Sullivan feel. However, there is some hidden humor here, so listen closely. In fact, those who have listened to this young artist from the beginning invoke the name of Randy Newman. Listeners new to John Krane should also be prepared for interesting electronic keyboards, sounds and background pieces. It will be fascinating to some." [buy the album]
Don't take their word for it. Especially since they said, "Some" when they meant "everybody in the world."

Here's what Willard from the Nilsson blog For The Love Of Harry said:

"Doris, Buzz & Friends should appeal to pop lovers of all kinds (Krane's vocals compare admirably to Paul Simon's)." [buy the album]
The album has well over 1,000 downloads, but not so many buys. Why? Because why pay for something you can get for free, right?

Well, right. I'm somewhat in the same camp, because I'm poor. But at the risk of sounding like a punk, I've got to make a living. And I'd love to do nothing but play shows and make music, so help me do that by buying my album or promoting it to your friends. Maybe send me an email and say hi, or burn my CD for a friend, or talk to folks who book shows at your favorite local bar. All of these things help.

I'm really happy with everyone's support, and I'm very happy with Doris, Buzz and Friends and how successful it's been so far. So thanks, and please continue to spread and support indie music.

I woke from eight hours of sleep, my eyes still red from the night before. I heard a desperate groan escape my throat an mix with the sounds of tired birds singing hideously enough that they might as well have been Soundgarden.

Throwing on my robe, I opened the door to my room, knocking over an old accordion that isn't mine (gotta stop hanging out with mid-1920's era street buskers), and looked to see my house vacated. Some good Samaritan had cleaned the physical debris, but the acrid smell of stale beer pierced my nostrils like a bullet through tapioca. Also I think there was some tapioca on the floor. I hoped.

Cracking an egg into a dirty pan, my only relevant thought was, goddamn it, there's no way around it. I'm going to have to buy a mop today.

Toto, with flying hands playing flute-synth leads, has been trapped in a library somewhere in Not Africa. Despondently, their lead singer, who almost certainly is also an English teacher, wanders the hallowed halls, wondering whether he can find a book that can adequately explain how to pick out good wrist-warmers.

Suddenly, and without warning, nothing happens. He continues wandering the library, occasionally looking at the sexless but attractive librarian who sits with crossed legs reading a book that may be about Africa. Nobody knows.

Toto, meanwhile, is playing on a book.

Finally, at his wit's end, our hero goes to pick out a book. He pulls one off the shelf, inconspicuously titled "Africa." A spear lights the whole fucking library on fire. The librarian looks slightly alarmed at this, although not really panicked. Since the library is an open '80s music video set, she will probably escape. Still, she curses herself for stacking the books in easy to spear piles.

Our hero pulls the same book off of the same shelf again. This time, other members of Toto are behind the book, singing. He pulls the same book off of the same shelf several times. These shots are cut with pictures of a not particularly high-quality globe, which shows us what the continent of Africa is shaped like.

Finally, Toto, their thirsts for Blessing Rains Down In Africa finally sated, begins to fade out. In the thrilling conclusion, we see our hero, parched from the cleansing fires that surround him, tired, ugly, and infectiously bored, pulling the same goddamn book off of the same goddamn shelf.

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been working on new music for the folks that bought the album, and I've been trying to figure out a way to offer them exclusive content.

In the meantime, here are links to buy Doris, Buzz and Friends, which ForTheLoveofHarry says "should appeal to pop lovers of all kinds ", and which one music lover like yourself have called "one of the most fun albums I've heard in a long time," click the button below.