• The eventual, consistent smiles when strangers understand my t-shirt in the featured image above.  Who doesn’t enjoy seeing a s’more as it chases itself down?  I love how completely clueless the graham cracker is…just stupidly going along for the ride behind the maniacal chocolate.  The marshmallow doesn’t stand a chance.  Nor should he.
• The outro from Frank Ocean’s “Self Control,” off the blond album…oh my god.  The emotions.  The lyrics are great (once understood and decoded a bit; the man has consistently surprising depth), but it’s the layered vocals, with that perfect reverb.  The detailed nuance of each sung syllable.  The phrase matching he does as tracks of himself are added.  5 Franks?  6?  It’s so inspired, feels so loose and raw, while being beautifully executed.  Clean.  Powerful.  This song owns me right now.
• The Rainbow children’s soap/clay from Lush.  So fun for 6 year old Rubin to mold, squeeze, lather, crumble under running bath water, and wash himself with.  He learns to conserve a cool product so he doesn’t waste it, and I get to teach him the word disintegrate. And Lush gets a deserved plug for being the amazing company it appears to be.  Win-win-win.
• The reprise of “Solo” from blond, featuring the incomparable Andre 3000.  It’s so fast and flowing, enunciated in efficient machine gun rhythm. But his content is king.  It’s funny, thoughtful, empathetic to women, and angry at some young whippersnapper rap pretenders who don’t write their own shit.  The track stops cold when you want a lot more.  He’s one of the best rappers alive, whether he’s offering product frequently or not.
• This World Cup.  Holy hell, the speed and skills on display from the likes of France’s Kylian MBappe.  The malleability of Paul Pogba’s game, and how he has happily accepted a less flashy, but sorely needed, set of midfielder duties in the French team’s two-way game.  The statuesque grace of Belgian goalie Thibaut Courtois, who shouldn’t be as agile as he is for looking like an awkward 7 foot tall 11th grader. Every 4 years I fall in love with soccer all over again, but intermittently I never choose to engage in Premier League or anything else.  So I am the quadrennial target of innumerable think pieces; “IS THIS FINALLY THE TIME THAT SOCCER IS GIVEN ITS DUE AND GROWS IN AMERICA BLAH BLAH BLAH…”. Save it. I am very happy with my current soccer intake.  I genuinely, curiously give a shit twice a decade. And right now I can’t get enough of it.
• Tracks 2 through 8 or so from Courtney Barnett’s “Tell Me How You Really Feel.”  Especially, “Nameless, Faceless” with kindred spirit Kim Deal on backing vox.  She’s sung it live at a festival with both twins from The Breeders.  Barnett is the best thing going in her timeless brand of minimalist, direct punk-infused rock songs. Plus she’s funny as hell, and has just the right level of disdain in that deadpan delivery.
• The ingenious Fuego propane grill.  It has a 20” x 20” footprint that makes city balcony life much more comfortable.  And every inch of the cooking surface conducts heat equally.  It’s also gorgeous, designed by a guy who designed Beats By Dre. Been making lots of veggie burgers for me and my girl.  But last night while she was out of town I made a steak rubbed in one of the awesome spice concoctions via Stoner Rock BBQ. The “Not So Gentle Butcher’s Rub” was incredible on a bone in ribeye.
• The wherewithal, schedule, and savings to enjoy an afternoon watching the World Cup with this view:
• 

  I watched France-Belgium while enjoyably bleeding chips at the 2-5 game at The Shoe. There was eventually more tv, and less of this guy.
• In succession I have been consumed by the songs “Nikes,” “Ivy,” “Pink & White,” and “Solo” on the aforementioned blond by Frank Ocean. I hereby declare it the best album of 2016. Who cares if it took me until summer 2018 to know it.  Sue me.

Sometimes you don’t ask for a radical change of professional life, but you look up a few months later and realize how much you’ve had time to notice.

Gratitude.  Always.  Surround yourself with people and experiences that remind you to stay in touch with it.

Allow me to explain myself.

Mom was an opera singer and a voice teacher. She also knew that Bill Terry was the last National Leaguer to hit .400.

Dad once was a sports writer, and is my favorite baseball fan.

He also can detail musical evolution within the 15 Shostakovich symphonies.

My oldest brother Jon plays the bass, slide guitar, banjo, dobro and pedal steel. He was once considered a Don in the Chicago Bluegrass Mafia.

My other older brother Bobby was a center fielder on a really good high school team, for which I was the bat boy. The team bus picked me up at elementary school for away games.

My passions have always been split, equally. I was the kid racing from tennis practice to trumpet lessons. A trip to New York usually meant both Yankee Stadium and Lincoln Center. I’ve chased concurrent dreams, and professions, in both music and sports for as long as I can remember.

I now often go from radio shows directly to sound-checks. I sometimes sing 15 songs at a sold out concert, go home to watch a game on tape delay, then host a show in the morning.

I am a very fortunate man.

So an event like Hot Stove Cool Music this past Friday night at Metro is powerful bliss.

Hey, look! There’s Max Crawford, an original member of Poi Dog Pondering and now the leader of the Total Pro Horns, who also happens to run the electronic scoreboards at Wrigley.

Hey, that’s our emcee Lin Brehmer, a fine high school pitcher and Cubs season ticket holder who is also the best rock and roll DJ in the city.

Who’s starting the show on bass? It’s the organizer of the whole night, Len Kasper. He’s relieved that the Cubs game he just called did not go extras or have a rain delay. He’ll try to get home at a reasonable hour, because he’s doing the national game the next day on Fox.

Our greatest living baseball writer, Peter Gammons, is over there tuning his guitar as he preps to play a Paul Butterfield Blues Band song called “Born in Chicago.”

The musicians we get to play with include members of Smashing Pumpkins, Local H, Shoes, Wilco, Bob Mould, and Rage Against The Machine. In the middle of the show, Rick Nielsen and a couple other members of Cheap Trick show up and take the stage.

Every one of them loves baseball.

These realms, the two that I will always inhabit, are not that different.

Friday was a passionately played sandlot game.

You figure out who can play shortstop, who wants to catch, and who ought to be put safely in right field. There aren’t many young lefties who pull.

Who’s the best fit for this high harmony on “Surrender”? Which guitar players will step up and nail “Cherub Rock”? Whose amp should we make sure not to turn up too high?

Introduce yourselves, practice for a bit, then play. I mean, really play. Pay attention to one another, listen and watch to find the best way to make magic.

I’m torn right now as to my favorite personal moment of the night.

I stumped the Hall of Famer Gammons with my favorite baseball trivia question in the green room. For the record, Theo Epstein got it later with his first guess.

I got to sing and front “Monday” with a full horn section, Jimmy Chamberlin from Smashing Pumpkins on drums, and Wilco’s own John Stirratt on the bass.

We’ll go with 1 and 1a.

“Worlds colliding” isn’t a fair description.

Life is ours to create, experiences and interests ours to curate.

Friday night was a perfect, unforgettable night in the world I live in. And I know there are millions who live there with me.

Epstein’s guitar playing needs some work.

• Matt Spiegel co-hosts “The McNeil & Spiegel Show” 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Monday-Friday on WSCR 670-AM. Follow him on Twitter @mattspiegel670.

Hot Stove, Cool Music was held Thursday night at the Metro. I’ve been looking forward to it for months, following the lead of the tireless and enthused Len Kasper. There were lots of schemes and plans. Len has grabbed the reins of the musical side of this thing and made it better every year. I’m really happy to help him with it.Last year, the headliner seized an opportunity to grandstand. This particular attempt at being a fearless truth-teller was woefully misguided.  He embarrassed himself with inaccuracies and downright foolishness. He bummed out a group of organizers and participants who deserve far better.

So this year, Theo Epstein called in the big gun.

Eddie Vedder, what a gem. Warm, mellow, kind. He paid for his longtime guitar tech and monitor person to fly in. He decided he wanted his favorite Cub growing up, Jose Cardenal, to be there. So Eddie flew him in.

Eddie was pleasantly surprised at the musical competence at our rehearsal, because we got the right guys Pros. Great players with good vibes, who did their work to learn everything and showed up ready to go. The rehearsal stretched long, arrangements were adjusted by good ideas, and he showed what a generous musician a big-time rock star can still be.

Joe Shanahan and the Metro are the perfect host and venue. That place reeks of historic rock credibility, and it sounds amazing when it’s full.  Every year, this is my favorite green room.  Musicians, baseball execs, radio people, Hall of Fame writers, random former Cubs and/or Red Sox.

Green room

Early in the night, I turned a corner and eavesdropped on a moment: Theo and Jose Cardenal one-on-one.

Jose: “You’re doing a great job, man…”

Theo: “Thank you Jose. This is a special team to work for, and you’re a part of it.  I want you there when we win, OK?”

Jose: “Yes, yes, man … I’ll be there, thank you.”

TO READ THE ENTIRE ARTICLE, WITH LINKS AND STORIES GALORE, CLICK HERE.

You’ll see why I taught a vocal part to these guys.

One night Max Crawford came out to join Tributosaurus as we became Elvis Costello. Max transcribed the hauntingly ethereal Chet Baker flugelhorn solos on “Shipbuilding,” and it was a highlight of the night to do that with him. Afterwards, we reveled and discussed; the soundman had used some reverb and echo on the 2nd solo, as a nod to a similar effective production moment on the recording. But…then later when talking with soundman Sergio, I complimented him on the reverb. He said “yeah…it just kind of seemed to fit what he was doing. Glad you didn’t mind.” Sergio had never heard the song Shipbuilding, ever. He was just nudged and inspired somehow to do EXACTLY what producer Clive Langer had done on the record.

So, what to glean from this beautiful moment?
1) A good soundman is a band member, listening and aesthetically reacting along with us.
2) Somewhere, Chet Baker appreciated Max’s playing, transcription, and the night’s vibe in general, so he pushed Sergio’s hand towards the reverb.
3) Live music continues to offer cosmic, emotional, powerful connections across dimensions.
4) I’m an eternal hippie.