Incoming Mail



on Facebook to T Max
(spelled Tee Max on Facebook only):

My thoughts are with you T.  This is such a huge loss for the Noise, and for you personally. I did not really know Joe, except for the reviews he wrote in the Noise, which could be baiting, funny, sarcastic, withering, or stubborn, but always truthful (at least the truth as he saw it!). I recall while interviewing him for my Globestory about the Noise’s 30th anniversary in 2011, that I found him to be all those things…but also engaging, friendly, humble, happy to talk, appreciative, and maybe even a little surprised somebody took the time to ask what he thought. His insights and comments (along with my other terrific interview subject, Francis DiMenno)—both published and un-published—made the piece much stronger and deeper, more warts-and-all complete.

Jonathan Perry (The Boston Globe)



The Noise,

This response may be a little late, but I’d like to thank Nancy Neon for her generous review of my band Gary Shane & the Detour at the Cantab on 6/13/09: “Gary and company lay down an authentic bluesy vibe… He resonates an immense joie de vivre,” and “He exudes vitality that shines from his eyes.” At first I thought it was written by Rita and Lolita (whom I still can’t decide which is more desirable)—because they chose that night as Live Show of the Month in the issue prior to the review. Heartfelt thanks to Nancy, Rita, and Lolita for realizing I can still pull it off with grace and style, even though I am confined to my seat due to MS.

Gary Shane Lavenson (…& the Detour)



Comment on

Thanks for taking the time to comment on my eBook A Musician’s Complete Guide to Sound. I just wanted to say that I ran an ad in the December issue of the Noise with the intention of pointing the musician readership to the Kindle/ Amazon version of the eBook, which can be purchased for $7.99 and also includes a freeiPhone app on Amazon and iTunes.

Thanks, Bill Winn


T Max responds…

By reading your e-book, I learned some pretty simple things I can do to improve my sound at every gig I play, and how to improve my communication with a sound person at the show. Every musician should read this book to pick up some important basic techniques for improving their stage sound.



My friend Corin Ashley called me in Autumn 2011 during the darkest time of my life. It was a period that I never expected and pray I’ll not ever revisit. It felt terrible to be alive back then and even the diffusive grace of time passing has not given the memory any charm. Shit was BAD. I had fled L.A., having made a sickening mess of everything there, and was literally hiding at my parents’ house on Cape Cod, not seeing friends or returning phone calls or emails and trying one last time to either get sober or just die already.

Sweet, undeterred Corin. He had mailed me a handwritten (!) letter at my last rehab in Texas that June so I texted to thank him when I returned from there to my self-imposed house of exile on the Cape. We exchanged a few more texts in the following weeks and then he did a ghastly, unthinkable thing: he called me. On the phone. He wanted to know if he could come visit me and catch up. He could bring a guitar and maybe we could do a bit of writing. Y’know, if we felt like it. To this day, I don’t know why I said yes because lordyknows I was not in the fucking mood, but I did. I said yes.

Corin made the drive from Boston to Falmouth on a grey weekday morning, arriving in my parents’ driveway with a *crunch crunch crunch* of his tires on the classic Cape Cod bed of busted seashells and small, smooth stones. A little panicky, I pushed aside a drawn curtain and saw Corin through a slice of window out of one twitchy eyeball. He had two styrofoam cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and a guitar case. I relaxed a tiny bit. I stepped outside to meet him on my mom and dad’s porch. We hugged and I think I might have smiled. Then, as friends of two decades will do (even when one of them is a fragile, almost unfamiliar ghost), we sat down and wasted no time filling each other in with events of our recent lives. Turns out, I had no trouble at all barfing all over him with every messy detail that had landed me where I was and he had some good stories, too. The sustenance of human interaction was like an explosion of oxygen and light after living in a paper bag for six months. I devoured his company. After talking for 10 minutes or seven hours (who knows??) we actually got inspired and wrote some cool stuff together that day. We also toyed with some new song arrangements for the album he was getting ready to record at Q Division, the beloved studio where most of the music of my career was made: Cleo, Cherry Marmalade, Josie. Q was my home in happier times, which was most of my 20’s well into my 30’s. I couldn’t bear to think about it.

Nevertheless, soon after that, I found myself driving up to Q Division in Somerville, at Corin’s request, to lend my ears, opinions, and pipes to his incredible songs and vocal performances. He was making an album. He was living his life. His rich songs and miraculous voice made me feel like I had a contribution to make. A purpose. So I practiced acting like a regular person by interacting with actual people who had come together for the purpose of committing Corin’s songs to tape.

What Corin didn’t know, nor did I, I suppose, was that during this brief period, he gave me the chance to grasp onto tiny bits of those critical, beautiful pieces of myself that I truly feared had vanished forever: Music and friendship and humanity. Hope.

I adore you Corin, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you invited me into your brilliant creative brain and kind heart. I am honored to have taken part in the making of your latest musical creation.

As of January 24, 2013, I have been sober for 19 months and most everything, although different than I ever would have imagined, is starting to get good again. New Lion Terraces, Corin Ashley’s album, now finished and ready to go to press, marked the beginning of my re-introduction to my own life. Art can really do that!

If you’d like to help Corin put New Lion Terraces out properly, which is to say on vinyl, the medium that his eccentric, lush, warm, tape-y songs deserve, go to his website. Your earholes, my soul, Corin’s ever-patient wife Darcey and their son Harrison will all thank you.

Love, Kay Hanley



Hello, good people of the Noise. The 7CS would like to thank you for the kind words you had for our little old band in the February 2013 issue. We’re all long-time readers and to see our name pop up twice (Mr. Curt and Francis DiMenno) in the same issue was thrilling.

Thank you very much,

The 7CS


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