George Pelecanos, Michael Patrick MacDonald, Tom Perrotta, Joe Pernice, Warren Zanes, Neal Huff at Interim House benefit May 29, 2008 

Just a warning, right from the get-go.  There is nothing really substantive in this message, and the information contained herein may or may not be true, fair and/or balanced.  In fact, every time we write to you, ostensibly to update you about the artistic renderings of Joe Pernice, we’re really just trying to drive traffic to our online store.  This seems especially crucial at this particular moment, as we, like every other red-blooded American retailer, are eager to get our grubby mitts on your economic stimulus check.  I used mine to pay down my credit cards, but we’re hoping you’re less selfish. As for what I can tell you about the goings-on at Ashmont Records, Inc., the truth is that I can only deduce that recording is about to commence again.  They don’t tell me anything, but I am smarter than I look.  First, Menck calls and asks if I can get Red Sox tickets in July.  Joe undoubtedly put him up to this, because he knows that Menck has a way with the ladies.  They are both under the mistaken impression that I have “juice” around here.  They are also under the mistaken impression that if I did, in fact, have “juice” I would use it for their benefit.  And, they are under the mistaken impression that I am a lady.  Second, Bob just called to let me know that he would be by later today “just to say hi.”  This is a ruse.  I’m guessing that they ordered more recording equipment (charged to my credit card no doubt) and he is going to sneak it up onto the third floor of MY house, where I am no longer allowed.  There’s a big sign on the door that says “No Girlz Allowed.”  Third – and this is the most telling thing – my cable package has been suddenly and inexplicably upgraded to include MLB Extra Innings.  Joe is hard at work on his book.  I know this, because he’s obviously laying the groundwork for his libel defense.  Every day I get a new skype message that says, “There’s a character in the book who works for a big indie record label, but I just want you to know that she’s not you.”  “That record company lady character?  She has a thing for bands in Nova Scotia, but seriously, she’s not you.” “That A&R lady in the book I told you about is Irish Catholic and grew up in a hard-working white American neighborhood in Boston with New Kids on the Block, but I swear to God, she’s not you.”  Anyway, if you’re close to Boston and want to be one of the first to hear Joe read from this book in which a character based on me does not appear, he’ll be reading as part of a  benefit we’re planning for Interim House on May 29.  Also reading are our pals George Pelecanos, Michael Patrick MacDonald, Tom Perrotta and Warren Zanes.  You can find info about that event here:  www.ashmontrecords.com/raisetheroof <http://www.ashmontrecords.com/raisetheroof> , and about its accompanying auction (where you can bid on tickets to watch a Sox game from Theo’s box) at www.interimhouse.cmarket.com <http://www.interimhouse.cmarket.com/>. Joe’s not doing press right now, but our indomitable mascot, Charlie Ashmont is.  He was interviewed yesterday by a reporter from the local NPR station, though he would only lick her microphone.  He is going to be featured in a piece about doggie DNA, because he got some PRETTY surprising results.  I’ll let you know when that will air.  Speaking of the Dalmation/Corgi cross previously known as Charlie Ashmont the pitbull, and also speaking of exploitation, we have Charlie Ashmont tees back in stock and in new colors.  We also have an exciting new Charlie Ashmont item – the reusable grocery bag.  See, we’re a green company, and to prove that, we ordered these green bags, which were flown from the west coast to our merch people in Texas, who then printed on them with some kind of ink and then shipped them via jumbo jet to us in Dorchester.  Now, what we’d like to do is package them up in some mailing materials, drive to the post office, and send them to you in all corners of the earth via air mail.  See, we’re saving the earth one doggie bag at a time.  The bags are available in the store, but if you order over $50 worth of merch, we’ll send you one for free.  www.pernicebrothers.com.  

So it would seem that the position of Pernice Brothers’ biggest fan is open now, with the untimely passing of Tim Haslett. Tim was an insatiable music fan, a crusader for social justice, and a lovely man. He was brilliant, but not condescending, committed but not close-minded. His passing leaves me full of regret, as he was one of those people I always meant to spend more time with and never did. It is entirely possible that many of you reading this learned about the band from Tim; he was something of a zealot when it came to the Pernices. I went to his memorial service today in Cambridge, where “Our Time Has Passed” was played, and it was nice to hear the varied perspectives on his too-short time on earth.

My fondest memory of Tim happened around the time we released The World Won’t End. As is our custom, we offered a special home made fan club-only CD, the “Sandwich” EP, with a pre-order of the record. He’d been assigned by Spin to review the record, so he already had an advance, but he insisted on paying for another copy with the bonus CD. But, he wanted to get it as soon as possible. I assured him that I would mail him the first one I made. He asked if he could please come pick it up the minute it was done. So he drove to Dorchester to get the first one off the burner.

On second thought, maybe the position of biggest Pernice fan isn’t open. On second thought, I think we’ll just retire Tim’s number, which, as I recall, was 1/893.

Joyce
Dorchester, MA

I know we’ve been quiet. You know how I know? Because we’ve been so quiet that even the “why are you guys so quiet?” emails have stopped. I suppose I could take that as a sign that all of you have moved on to the next “best band you’ve never heard of,” which would be okay - we certainly didn’t ask for or expect product exclusivity. But since at some point, Ashmont Industries will release some kind of pop culture artifact - format, artist name, medium, etc. to be determined - I figured I should write. Plus I miss (most of) you. As you’ve heard from both Joe and me before, there has some kind of clandestine recording going on in fits and starts at our state of the art (for 1996) recording studio in an undisclosed location that my neighbors are nice enough not to complain about. At this point, things have been quiet up there, because we’re waiting for our economic stimulus refund checks to arrive before we can afford to turn on the electricity again. We may not need record labels, but we do need electricity to manufacture the rock. What I can tell you with unequivocal certainty and unwavering faith, is the sometime in the future, something will happen. Also, just to get in front of the story, I want to make it perfectly clear that outside of Joe’s and my time as a signed artist and an A&R rep respectively, we have never been with or been a prostitute, respectively. In the meantime, Joe is still holed up in the NorthMidwest Territories somewhere, working on the great Canadian novel. He’ll be making the trek down south to the resort town (in 1649) of Dorchester, Massachusetts to do what will probably by the first public reading of the new material. On May 29, he will appear with the most gifted writers whose personal emails we have, at a benefit for a local halfway house for alcoholics and drug addicts. Michael Patrick MacDonald, George Pelecanos and Tom Perotta will also appear, and it will be hosted by our pal Neal Huff, whose recent turn as Michael Steintorf on The Wire has made it difficult for me to believe his self-serving lies ever again. But I think he’s telling me the truth when he says he’ll be there, despite the fact that there’s no quid pro quo. Anyway, if you have any interest in attending, follow the link below. Tickets are a little steep - $50 - but it’s for a very good cause.

http://www.ashmontrecords.com/raisetheroof/ Also, we’re reprinting the Charlie Ashmont shirt, which is the best-selling t-shirt in the history of our company, having just surpassed “I Hate My Life.” Please don’t tell Joe that the dog is more popular than he is. Don’t tell the dog either, because frankly, he has become impossible, and his contract is almost up. I don’t want to get into a protracted negotiation about use of his likeness. Anyway, there were many of you who asked to be notified when it’s back in stock, and now’s your chance if you wanted a particular color. Check out the American Apparel web site for shirts in THESE STYLES ONLY: men’s 2001 and women’s 4305. Please note that this design (which can be seen in the store at www.pernicebrothers.com) only looks good on a light colored shirt. If you are interested in a particular color, let me know. I want to place the order next week, but I won’t be looking for payment until the shirts are actually in. Or ever really. It’s not like I have any recourse except for NOT sending you a shirt. I haven’t heard from any of the guys in the Pernice Brothers touring and/or recording bands, except for Bob, who hates me because I no longer have the juice in Boston to procure tickets to sold-out shows at the Middle East, and thus, he probably missed Jonathan Richman. There is nothing sadder than the formerly powerful, not matter how tiny their former fiefdom actually was. Anyway, if you see any of the other guys, tell them I said hello. As for me, I am recovering from St. Patrick’s Day, having heard one too may bad jokes at the South Boston St. Patrick’s Day breakfast. I keep meaning to ask Joe if they celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in Toronto, but I honestly think it was that very holiday that chased him out of Boston in the first place.

Anyway that’s it for my not-very-informational non-update. Just didn’t want you thinking we were idle. JL

Dorchester, Mass.

www.pernicebrothers.com

Greetings Everyone,

I have not been this far out of the loop since before I was ever in any loop. I beg your pardon. For an overwhelming majority of the last twelve years, I’ve thought about little more than writing, recording and playing music. As most people reading this already know, I signed a book deal with Riverhead/Penguin Books last summer. Since then, I’ve been chipping away at a novel and an album. It goes without saying, in addition to the aforementioned artistic endeavors, I have also been an exemplary father, a model husband, a co-captain of industry and the possessor of a Cal Ripkenesque, unblemished driving record.

I’ll begin by talking about the book. There’s isn’t much I can say, except that it’s written in the first person, is set in the mid 1990s on Cape Cod in the off-season. And my narrator doesn’t have a name. I might name him Joe just to beat to the punch anyone who thinks (incorrectly) he’s me. Or I might name him Bob and let my brother mop up for once.

I’ve been enjoying writing the book a lot. I have never worked ostensibly alone on a project of this size. Making a record involves—thankfully—a good number of people busting their humps. As for the book, it’s just me, the odd sounding board friend, and my editor. (The latter, outside of being a woman less than half his age and not Italian, reminds me of my father and his approach to my adolescent love life: If you want my advice, I’ll gladly give it. Otherwise, I’ll be over here watching Wild World of Animals until the shit hits the fan.) 

When will the book be done? Though my deadline is a handful of months away, I like to think of that deadline not so much as a soft one, but as one on wheels.

Speaking of I-don’t-know-when-it-will-be-finished-or-when-it’s-coming-out-or-what-it’s-called, a record inches its way toward completion. All kidding aside, vocals, mixing and mastering are all that remain. After that, it becomes more Joyce’s problem than mine.

When Chappaquiddick Skyline and Big Tobacco came out, I answered a ton of questions—way more than I had figured—about why they were called what they were. Fair enough. Some people wanted to know. That doesn’t mean I feel like going through that again. I’m going to think long and hard before I put a band name on this little honey.

With the exception of a track here and there, Ric Menck, James Walbourne and I played the instruments. My brother recorded it. It’s my most spare album since Chappaquiddick. I like the songs a lot, especially: “I Can’t be around People,” “Easy to Leave,” “She Should of Came,” and “The Adulterer’s Moustache.” I’m sure you can tell by the titles, we’re shooting for stardom with this one. I’m tired of making a living releasing my own records and being respected by a coterie of people I respect. I want to be adored. I gave up reading while I’m writing my book, just so I don’t steal by mistake. (The same way I don’t listen to The Beatles or Dylan while I’m making a record.) So, I got into TV more, just to unwind, The Next Great American Band in particular. Loved it. I realized more than ever, the music I make has more in common with the reconditioned auto parts industry than it does with mainstream music. And thank God for that. I live for rebuilt alternators.

I guess that’s about it. I’ve said too much already. Joyce gets nervous when I talk about stuff that isn’t finished yet. Nervousness leads to irritability which leads to poor physical health which leads to…you see where I’m going with this? 

JP

Toronto 1/28/08