Someone asked me to post the lyrics to THICKNESS, so here you go. You may be surprised to learn that 'the thickness' isn't necessarily referring to what you think it is... or is it?
THICKNESS
Masochistic reminiscing
My ears ring with things you said
Lips fixed to revisit kissing
Just need someone to knock you out my head
Bind my senses to the bedpost
Gag me with the taste of you
Run for days and still be too close
Drug I stay addicted to
But you would never fall apart for me
So I don’t know why letting go’s so hard for me
Blame it on the thickness
That kept me ‘round
Cuz you fucked me up and spit me out
Stuck in love and sick of it
Let you get me down
Need to get you out my head somehow
Drowning in your tea cup ocean
Deafening silence, loud and shrill
A fool to entertain the notion
Hard pressing you against my will
Agonizing revelation
All is coming clear to me
Through your sweet manipulation
Love I swallow bitterly
How the hell did I get be so dense*
That loving you makes any fucking sense?
Could it really be the thickness...
I'm gettin' so sick of this...
* thick = dense = stupid
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
THIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!
The SUGARTANK EP is on iTunes today. For those of you who don't know, SugarTank is the musical alter-ego of Jamie, one of the main characters in my novel, SHORTCOMINGS. I produced this little collection of songs on my own (you should know, it was all put together on my MacBookPro, so it's got a homemade vibe... all ME) as a companion piece to the book. People have been asking me about new music and while I'm working on other projects, I thought this was a nice way to appease the hardcore "Angels" and share some original music that ties in with the story...
As a thank you to all of you who have been so patient and eager to hear what I've been doing, I'm giving away the song THICKNESS.
Thickness by DarrylStephens
Simply click on the 'down' arrow on the right and the song will download for free.
And check out the rest of the EP on iTunes. Thanks babies!
As a thank you to all of you who have been so patient and eager to hear what I've been doing, I'm giving away the song THICKNESS.
Thickness by DarrylStephens
Simply click on the 'down' arrow on the right and the song will download for free.
And check out the rest of the EP on iTunes. Thanks babies!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
eBook Conversion for Shortcomings
I've been asked this a few times and I just wanted to make a note of it somewhere so I could remember this answer...
If you need to convert the PDF of Shortcomings to a Nook-friendly file format, download Calibre for free here.
If you need to convert the PDF of Shortcomings to a Nook-friendly file format, download Calibre for free here.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Envious Moon Lyrics
The lyrics were posted on The Darryl Stephens facebook page around the time the song was released... but here they are for anyone who missed them. Glad you guys are liking the remix. Thank you!
By the way, click on the DOWN arrow on the link to the remix (far right) to download...
By the way, click on the DOWN arrow on the link to the remix (far right) to download...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
ENVIOUS MOON REMIX
The song was remixed for the video release party in March. Logan Alexander and MDoc Williams got together about a week before the party and cranked this out. For some reason, with all the commotion around the party, we never got around to mastering the track, so we never released it. As it turns out, the track ended up on a mix CD that my friend Camilo got a hold of and he keeps telling me how he's been playing the track non-stop. So... I decided I'd share it with you guys too.
Enjoy... 01 Envious Moon (Indasoul Remix Produced by Marc 'MDoc' Williams and Logan Alexander) by DarrylStephens
Enjoy... 01 Envious Moon (Indasoul Remix Produced by Marc 'MDoc' Williams and Logan Alexander) by DarrylStephens
Monday, August 8, 2011
Andrew for the Second Edition...?
As some of you know, I'm about to release SHORTCOMINGS for wide distribution via amazon.com and book stores. I've been re-reading the book and getting feedback from a few people who have read the book in its previous incarnations. I'm considering replacing Andrew's back story... It would be PART FOUR and we would pick up with Danny and Colin in PART FIVE. I love the story and people have responded really well to it, but I'm not sure if, in the context of the rest of the book, it just comes off as distracting. Andrew is a supporting character and while his back story does give some insight into how he ended up at Androfiles, I'm not sure if it would come off as superfluous.
Obviously, this is something I have to decide on my own. If I had a proper editor, I would consult them. But I'm just wondering if you guys have any thoughts on the subject... Chime in.
Obviously, this is something I have to decide on my own. If I had a proper editor, I would consult them. But I'm just wondering if you guys have any thoughts on the subject... Chime in.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
SHORTCOMINGS on Facebook
At the advice of my friend Fabrice Tasendo, I've started a Facebook page for SHORTCOMINGS to help spread the word. The first thing I'm planning a YouTube video answering YOUR questions about the book that you post on the FB wall. So pop over, find the "Like" button, come up with an interesting question and tell your friends! And thank you, as always, for the support. ;)
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
New YouTube Channel
You can find the Envious Moon Video, the It Gets Better clip and various reels at TheDarrylStephens channel on YouTube.
Soon, I will be responding to your questions about SHORTCOMINGS and giving you the inside scoop on the play I'm doing in LA next month called "The Interlopers."
Stay tuned...
Soon, I will be responding to your questions about SHORTCOMINGS and giving you the inside scoop on the play I'm doing in LA next month called "The Interlopers."
Stay tuned...
Monday, May 2, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Andrew
Andrew was sitting in his bedroom, stunned, practically paralyzed with fear, when he heard his father’s truck pull into the driveway. He heard the back door creak open and shut...and then the chair slide along the kitchen floor as keys jangled against the table. He could hear his mother’s quivering voice but couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Of course, he knew exactly what she was saying. She was telling his father that she had walked in on Andrew with his best friend Clem that afternoon. She was no doubt sobbing and sniveling as she recounted how she’d dropped the laundry basket when she stepped in to find Andrew with his mouth full, sitting on his bed facing Clem, whose pants were around his ankles and whose hand was wrapped around the back of Andrew’s neck. She was probably managing to somehow make the whole thing about her, asking what she had done for God to punish her so, going on about how hard the whole ordeal had been for her and how she’d never be able to forget the image that had been burned into her mind...
Then...the kitchen went silent.
Andrew said a prayer, turned around and watched his bedroom door, waiting breathlessly for whatever calamity was to come. But nothing came. He sat there staring at the door, his red hair soaked brown with sweat, for forty-five minutes. No one ever came in. He finally stepped outside his room, the floor creaking beneath his bare feet and walked toward the top of the stair case to try to hear what was going on in the kitchen. Nothing. Silence...
So he went back into his room, lay in bed facing the wall, his tongue running back and forth against the back of his unbrushed teeth and eventually, he fell asleep.
He woke up the next morning, showered, ate breakfast and made his way to school alone. The house was as eerily silent as it had been the night before. On any other day, while he was getting dressed, he would hear his father’s work boots clomping down the stairs, the back door slamming shut and the truck backing out of the driveway. Normally, when he’d go downstairs five minutes later to eat, he would find his mother in the kitchen watching something on the 700 Club, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette at the table. But on that day, neither parent was seen or heard. Andrew ate quickly and left twenty minutes early so he could walk to school and get there before first period. He couldn’t bear waiting around for his mother to offer him a ride through her gritted teeth of self-righteous disgust.
But as he walked down the street, the morning sun shining in his bright blue eyes and the crisp Ohio air filling his lungs, he was warmed with a sense that everything was going to be all right. His mother was most likely too racked with Christian guilt and self-pity to go public with the information. And his father obviously just didn’t want to talk about it at all. Dad hadn’t wanted to talk about much of anything for a long time...
For years, Andrew’s father used to drag him out to baseball fields and into batting cages. Every summer would begin with everyone in the house hoping against hope that Andrew had grown out of his ‘awkward phase’ and that he would finally take to the sport that for some reason meant everything to his dad. But they’d all stopped hoping by the time Andrew began high school. He knew that his father had given up on him a long time ago... As it turned out, that very apathy might have been Andrew’s saving grace. His father may have already been too bored with being disappointed to even bother addressing the whole blow job in the bedroom fiasco. Maybe it would all just blow over. Ha! Blow...
Andrew knew that he and Clem would just have to get through the next four months and then they would both be at University of Chicago. That’s when their real life together would finally begin... They’d be able to stay up late to watch their favorite Madeline Kahn movies together in bed. (Andrew was obsessed with “Clue” while Clem couldn’t get enough of her Mel Brooks stuff.) They could play their R&B divas loud and proud--Jennifer Hudson, Mary J. Blige and Mariah Carey, just to start--without any sideways glares from their CMT-fixated kinsmen. And they would get to hold hands and kiss each other on the lips whenever they wanted, which would be all the time.
Andrew had already started having recurring dreams of the two of them waking up in the same big bed with the sun shining in through the giant bay windows of their modest future apartment. Hardwood floors and homemade curtains. Walking distance from the famous Halsted Street in Boys Town. Just thinking about how simple and genuine and sweet it would be left him all choked up ...
Clem didn’t show up at school that morning and his cell phone kept going straight to voicemail. By the time lunch rolled around, Andrew was sick to his stomach with worry. He skipped fifth and sixth period to walk to Clem’s house and make sure everything was okay. He decided on the way to stop at home to drop off his book bag and brush his teeth.
When he turned the corner on to his street, he saw them right away. There were trash bags lined up along the sidewalk outside his front gate. As he got closer, he saw that the bags were filled with his clothes and all his things. His Spelling Bee trophy from fourth grade had been broken and the bottom half was poking out of a plastic bag. His personalized cover to his favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird, was on the ground next to the bags but the book itself was nowhere to be found. There was a chain with a deadbolt lock around the entrance to the front gate. He dropped his book bag on the sidewalk and hopped over the fence. When he got to the front door, he found his key didn’t fit in the lock. He walked around to the back door, his heart racing, terrified, and found the same thing. He banged on the door, hoping to see or hear his mother stirring inside. Nothing.
He banged and banged on the door until the flat side of his fist was red and raw, then he slid down the back door, scratching his face against the peeling paint, his body shaking uncontrollably. When he finally collapsed into a pile of quivering limbs on the back step, he began sobbing. He cried until his body went into convulsions because he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Then he just whimpered and choked because his eyes had dried out...
When the sun went down, he was still laying on that back step. Nobody came home. Nobody opened the door. Nobody called. He went to dial Clem again and got a recording that the phone he was using was no longer in service. It was really happening. His parents were completely cutting off their only child because he was in love with another boy.
He got up, wiped his face and walked unsteadily back toward the front gate. Mrs. Acton, the old lady next door, was watching him from her front porch, smoking a cigarette, shaking her head and sucking her teeth. She knows... He hopped over the fence and rifled through the trash bags for a jacket and as many clothes as he could fit into his book bag. Then he walked to Clem’s house.
Clem’s father answered the door, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes, and stood in the doorway with so much revulsion in his eyes that Andrew was honestly scared for his life. He could feel all the muscles around his knees turn to jelly... “Clem don’t want nothin’ to do with you. Now don’t be callin’ and don’t be tryin’ to talk to him and you stay the fuck away from him.” Then he slammed the door in Andrew’s face.
Andrew stood there on the front porch, his eyes glazing over as locks and bolts were fastened on the other side of the door. This isn’t happening. This is not happening. When he finally walked away from the house, he saw Clem looking down from an upstairs window. His cherubic face was lifeless and detached and a purple bruise above his left eye was barely visible behind the shadow of the lace curtain. Clem shook his head, ‘No’ just before he let the curtain fall in front of his face and he backed away from the window. Andrew understood. It was all over. Nothing could be done.
When Andrew finally fell asleep on a bus station bench that night, he dreamt of the same future apartment with hardwood floors and homemade curtains. But instead of Clem at the kitchen table, it was his mother, chain smoking, sucking her teeth, glaring back at him with her purple, bruised eye. Sadly, her clear contempt felt absolutely normal to him.
How long had he known that his parents didn’t like him very much? How long had he been accustomed to them holding him at arm’s length? How long had they been walking around him rather than looking at him and addressing him directly? How long had they been merely tolerating his existence in their house?
They seemed to have recognized something untoward in him before even he had managed to comprehend what is was that made him different. By the time he had been able to qualify his attraction to other boys as something they probably wouldn’t approve of, their hearts had already hardened. He couldn’t even remember a time when the three of them had been openly affectionate. His parents didn’t even seem to like each other very much... And it was that lack of tenderness, that emotional indifference that had made him so eager to start his new life in Chicago with Clem. As normal as his loveless home-life had become, he never stopped believing that there was more in store for him. He knew that the God he loved and honored wouldn’t let him down.
Then his entire world shattered. A nightmare come to life...
The next morning, he paid forty-five of his last four-hundred and twenty dollars for a bus ticket to Chicago. As he watched Ohio’s flat green landscape drift past from his window seat, he said one last prayer for his parents. He asked God to forgive them and watch over them, because he knew he would never see them again.
And he closed his eyes and imagined Clem walking into their future apartment... His curly blond hair glowing like a halo and his angelic face smiling, strong and safe. Love would prevail. Because it had to.
Of course, he knew exactly what she was saying. She was telling his father that she had walked in on Andrew with his best friend Clem that afternoon. She was no doubt sobbing and sniveling as she recounted how she’d dropped the laundry basket when she stepped in to find Andrew with his mouth full, sitting on his bed facing Clem, whose pants were around his ankles and whose hand was wrapped around the back of Andrew’s neck. She was probably managing to somehow make the whole thing about her, asking what she had done for God to punish her so, going on about how hard the whole ordeal had been for her and how she’d never be able to forget the image that had been burned into her mind...
Then...the kitchen went silent.
Andrew said a prayer, turned around and watched his bedroom door, waiting breathlessly for whatever calamity was to come. But nothing came. He sat there staring at the door, his red hair soaked brown with sweat, for forty-five minutes. No one ever came in. He finally stepped outside his room, the floor creaking beneath his bare feet and walked toward the top of the stair case to try to hear what was going on in the kitchen. Nothing. Silence...
So he went back into his room, lay in bed facing the wall, his tongue running back and forth against the back of his unbrushed teeth and eventually, he fell asleep.
He woke up the next morning, showered, ate breakfast and made his way to school alone. The house was as eerily silent as it had been the night before. On any other day, while he was getting dressed, he would hear his father’s work boots clomping down the stairs, the back door slamming shut and the truck backing out of the driveway. Normally, when he’d go downstairs five minutes later to eat, he would find his mother in the kitchen watching something on the 700 Club, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette at the table. But on that day, neither parent was seen or heard. Andrew ate quickly and left twenty minutes early so he could walk to school and get there before first period. He couldn’t bear waiting around for his mother to offer him a ride through her gritted teeth of self-righteous disgust.
But as he walked down the street, the morning sun shining in his bright blue eyes and the crisp Ohio air filling his lungs, he was warmed with a sense that everything was going to be all right. His mother was most likely too racked with Christian guilt and self-pity to go public with the information. And his father obviously just didn’t want to talk about it at all. Dad hadn’t wanted to talk about much of anything for a long time...
For years, Andrew’s father used to drag him out to baseball fields and into batting cages. Every summer would begin with everyone in the house hoping against hope that Andrew had grown out of his ‘awkward phase’ and that he would finally take to the sport that for some reason meant everything to his dad. But they’d all stopped hoping by the time Andrew began high school. He knew that his father had given up on him a long time ago... As it turned out, that very apathy might have been Andrew’s saving grace. His father may have already been too bored with being disappointed to even bother addressing the whole blow job in the bedroom fiasco. Maybe it would all just blow over. Ha! Blow...
Andrew knew that he and Clem would just have to get through the next four months and then they would both be at University of Chicago. That’s when their real life together would finally begin... They’d be able to stay up late to watch their favorite Madeline Kahn movies together in bed. (Andrew was obsessed with “Clue” while Clem couldn’t get enough of her Mel Brooks stuff.) They could play their R&B divas loud and proud--Jennifer Hudson, Mary J. Blige and Mariah Carey, just to start--without any sideways glares from their CMT-fixated kinsmen. And they would get to hold hands and kiss each other on the lips whenever they wanted, which would be all the time.
Andrew had already started having recurring dreams of the two of them waking up in the same big bed with the sun shining in through the giant bay windows of their modest future apartment. Hardwood floors and homemade curtains. Walking distance from the famous Halsted Street in Boys Town. Just thinking about how simple and genuine and sweet it would be left him all choked up ...
Clem didn’t show up at school that morning and his cell phone kept going straight to voicemail. By the time lunch rolled around, Andrew was sick to his stomach with worry. He skipped fifth and sixth period to walk to Clem’s house and make sure everything was okay. He decided on the way to stop at home to drop off his book bag and brush his teeth.
When he turned the corner on to his street, he saw them right away. There were trash bags lined up along the sidewalk outside his front gate. As he got closer, he saw that the bags were filled with his clothes and all his things. His Spelling Bee trophy from fourth grade had been broken and the bottom half was poking out of a plastic bag. His personalized cover to his favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird, was on the ground next to the bags but the book itself was nowhere to be found. There was a chain with a deadbolt lock around the entrance to the front gate. He dropped his book bag on the sidewalk and hopped over the fence. When he got to the front door, he found his key didn’t fit in the lock. He walked around to the back door, his heart racing, terrified, and found the same thing. He banged on the door, hoping to see or hear his mother stirring inside. Nothing.
He banged and banged on the door until the flat side of his fist was red and raw, then he slid down the back door, scratching his face against the peeling paint, his body shaking uncontrollably. When he finally collapsed into a pile of quivering limbs on the back step, he began sobbing. He cried until his body went into convulsions because he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Then he just whimpered and choked because his eyes had dried out...
When the sun went down, he was still laying on that back step. Nobody came home. Nobody opened the door. Nobody called. He went to dial Clem again and got a recording that the phone he was using was no longer in service. It was really happening. His parents were completely cutting off their only child because he was in love with another boy.
He got up, wiped his face and walked unsteadily back toward the front gate. Mrs. Acton, the old lady next door, was watching him from her front porch, smoking a cigarette, shaking her head and sucking her teeth. She knows... He hopped over the fence and rifled through the trash bags for a jacket and as many clothes as he could fit into his book bag. Then he walked to Clem’s house.
Clem’s father answered the door, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes, and stood in the doorway with so much revulsion in his eyes that Andrew was honestly scared for his life. He could feel all the muscles around his knees turn to jelly... “Clem don’t want nothin’ to do with you. Now don’t be callin’ and don’t be tryin’ to talk to him and you stay the fuck away from him.” Then he slammed the door in Andrew’s face.
Andrew stood there on the front porch, his eyes glazing over as locks and bolts were fastened on the other side of the door. This isn’t happening. This is not happening. When he finally walked away from the house, he saw Clem looking down from an upstairs window. His cherubic face was lifeless and detached and a purple bruise above his left eye was barely visible behind the shadow of the lace curtain. Clem shook his head, ‘No’ just before he let the curtain fall in front of his face and he backed away from the window. Andrew understood. It was all over. Nothing could be done.
When Andrew finally fell asleep on a bus station bench that night, he dreamt of the same future apartment with hardwood floors and homemade curtains. But instead of Clem at the kitchen table, it was his mother, chain smoking, sucking her teeth, glaring back at him with her purple, bruised eye. Sadly, her clear contempt felt absolutely normal to him.
How long had he known that his parents didn’t like him very much? How long had he been accustomed to them holding him at arm’s length? How long had they been walking around him rather than looking at him and addressing him directly? How long had they been merely tolerating his existence in their house?
They seemed to have recognized something untoward in him before even he had managed to comprehend what is was that made him different. By the time he had been able to qualify his attraction to other boys as something they probably wouldn’t approve of, their hearts had already hardened. He couldn’t even remember a time when the three of them had been openly affectionate. His parents didn’t even seem to like each other very much... And it was that lack of tenderness, that emotional indifference that had made him so eager to start his new life in Chicago with Clem. As normal as his loveless home-life had become, he never stopped believing that there was more in store for him. He knew that the God he loved and honored wouldn’t let him down.
Then his entire world shattered. A nightmare come to life...
The next morning, he paid forty-five of his last four-hundred and twenty dollars for a bus ticket to Chicago. As he watched Ohio’s flat green landscape drift past from his window seat, he said one last prayer for his parents. He asked God to forgive them and watch over them, because he knew he would never see them again.
And he closed his eyes and imagined Clem walking into their future apartment... His curly blond hair glowing like a halo and his angelic face smiling, strong and safe. Love would prevail. Because it had to.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
SHORTCOMINGS
So the book is done. The cover art is complete. And I will be posting links to where you can get it in the next two days. I'm self-publishing it so you can get it sooner than later... in paperback and as a digital book.
Here we go!
Here we go!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Testing, testing...
So we (me and Logan and Rory and a couple of others) have been deliberating over what songs will be recorded, mixed and mastered for the album... I've produced about thirty and we're looking to use about fifteen. We're kind of on the fence about this one. The beat is hot, but the hook isn't super catchy. What do you guys think?
Ain't Worth It (Demo) by DarrylStephens
Ain't Worth It (Demo) by DarrylStephens
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Art & Soul
I was in Chicago last weekend... Unfortunately, I got sick, so I'm not feeling too chatty right now. But here's a little snippet. ButterFlySoul was AMAZING!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
C/U
So picture me, standing in between B.Scott and Rockmond Dunbar, singing along to this...
(And B.Scott knew the words too.)
There's only one man I know who would bring that cross section of black glitterati into the bowels of Silver Lake (parking at Satellite/formerly Spaceland is ABYSMAL!) and have us all bobbing our heads to a sound so unique. (Well, Rockmond may have yawned once or twice, but I'm sure it was just past his bed time.)
Patrik-Ian Polk, creator of Noah's Arc, has been touring with Fol Chen on and off for about a year. I saw them play twice in Echo Park last fall and really fell in love with the band's energy. The front man, Samuel Bing, thrashes around behind his hair, strumming his little guitar like Saturday morning cartoons are blaring and he's on a major sugar high. Bass player, The Booksman, pulls out a trumpet for certain songs (who does that?) and Gmo the drummer bangs like he's on fire and trying to douse himself with sweat for the entire set.
The two shows I saw at the Echo, Patrik was standing at the edge of the stage, waiting to sing his songs. He's got a surprisingly beautiful singing voice--I was there to hear Dax Shepard tell him so in person. But at the show last night, he was center stage, rocking out the entire set. Touring has nurtured the performer in Patrik, as he has seriously transformed into an impressive stage presence. B.Scott and I kept remarking on this little clap dance he would do when he wasn't singing. It's so bizarre and specific, it's already a signature move. I can see myself imitating it when I blast Part II: The New December. I think it was genius to pull him out of the corner and stand him right next to Samuel. Patrik is six and a half feet at least and Samuel (I keep thinking his name is Adam) is something like five foot, four inches. The image totally compliments the band's otherworldly sound.
Samuel (Adam?) told me last night was their last show for a while, so I'm glad I got to see them. But more than anything, I was really inspired by Patrik's transformation. I shot the video for my first single a few weeks ago and I found it surprisingly challenging to really embrace my inner rock star with people watching me. I think we all probably dance around our bedrooms and lip sync while sitting in traffic. But doing it for real IN FRONT OF PEOPLE is harder than I thought it would be. Seeing Fol Chen last night reminded me that it's okay to shine with the lights on.
(And B.Scott knew the words too.)
There's only one man I know who would bring that cross section of black glitterati into the bowels of Silver Lake (parking at Satellite/formerly Spaceland is ABYSMAL!) and have us all bobbing our heads to a sound so unique. (Well, Rockmond may have yawned once or twice, but I'm sure it was just past his bed time.)
Patrik-Ian Polk, creator of Noah's Arc, has been touring with Fol Chen on and off for about a year. I saw them play twice in Echo Park last fall and really fell in love with the band's energy. The front man, Samuel Bing, thrashes around behind his hair, strumming his little guitar like Saturday morning cartoons are blaring and he's on a major sugar high. Bass player, The Booksman, pulls out a trumpet for certain songs (who does that?) and Gmo the drummer bangs like he's on fire and trying to douse himself with sweat for the entire set.
The two shows I saw at the Echo, Patrik was standing at the edge of the stage, waiting to sing his songs. He's got a surprisingly beautiful singing voice--I was there to hear Dax Shepard tell him so in person. But at the show last night, he was center stage, rocking out the entire set. Touring has nurtured the performer in Patrik, as he has seriously transformed into an impressive stage presence. B.Scott and I kept remarking on this little clap dance he would do when he wasn't singing. It's so bizarre and specific, it's already a signature move. I can see myself imitating it when I blast Part II: The New December. I think it was genius to pull him out of the corner and stand him right next to Samuel. Patrik is six and a half feet at least and Samuel (I keep thinking his name is Adam) is something like five foot, four inches. The image totally compliments the band's otherworldly sound.
Samuel (Adam?) told me last night was their last show for a while, so I'm glad I got to see them. But more than anything, I was really inspired by Patrik's transformation. I shot the video for my first single a few weeks ago and I found it surprisingly challenging to really embrace my inner rock star with people watching me. I think we all probably dance around our bedrooms and lip sync while sitting in traffic. But doing it for real IN FRONT OF PEOPLE is harder than I thought it would be. Seeing Fol Chen last night reminded me that it's okay to shine with the lights on.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Award Tour...
I watched the Golden Globes last night and I was a little ashamed of how me and my friends get so judgmental during award shows. We all become major fashion/hair/makeup critics, sitting on the couch, sucking our teeth in our T-shirts, talking shit about every single person who passes in front of a camera.
"The sleeves on that dress are hideous. What is that, a table cloth?"
"Her makeup looks like it's trying to get away from her face."
"He got old."
For YEARS, I refused to get too dressed up for award shows/gala events, figuring that if I was casual enough, people would think I was arty and too cool to care. The truth was that I couldn't afford a nice suit. And... quiet as it's kept, I still can't. HA!
Anyway, I came across some old red carpet/award photos and I figured I'd share... I'm posting these so you can see how glamorous I am NOT (Noah fans often expect a fashion extravaganza from Darryl and are sorely disappointed) and to remind myself that I have a long way to go before I make it on to anybody's Best Dressed list, so I should probably shut up until Gucci and Hugo Boss start sending me free shit.
(If you are Hugo Boss or Gucci and you have free shit, call me.)
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
I heart Stephanie Vovas
I've had the pleasure of working with many talented photographers. One of them is my friend Stephanie Vovas. I got to see Stephanie out with friends last weekend and I was reminded of this shoot we did a while back. My ace homeboy Stephen Bowman did the makeup and our friend Aviva did the hair. These are all OUTTAKES from the shoot, courtesy of Stephanie herself. (I even included one with HAIR so you can see the direction the shoot ended up taking...) The lovely lady with the long legs is a model named Algo.
Stephanie is doing big things and her work is going to be all over the place very soon. Watch out for her.
Stephanie is doing big things and her work is going to be all over the place very soon. Watch out for her.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
My Cousin, Cameron Boyce
My little cousin Cameron is BLOWING UP! He's been in big budget features like EAGLE EYE, MIRRORS, GROWN UPS... and something called The Legion of Extraordinary Dancers. Check him out...
He hasn't hit puberty yet (although last time I saw him, he had long hair and was clearly aware of how cool he was) but he is already showing up his older cousin. I guess fierce runs in the family, huh?
Congrats to Cameron and his ridiculously proud parents and grandparents. And hey to Maya too!
He hasn't hit puberty yet (although last time I saw him, he had long hair and was clearly aware of how cool he was) but he is already showing up his older cousin. I guess fierce runs in the family, huh?
Congrats to Cameron and his ridiculously proud parents and grandparents. And hey to Maya too!
Happy Birthday Rahsaan Patterson!
"Where You Are" was the first song of Rahsaan's that I ever heard...
Rahsaan's new album BLEUPHORIA will be in stores this spring. The first single, "Easier Said Than Done," is available now on iTunes.
Little insider info... I co-wrote a song on the record called "Crazy" that he and I have already labeled 'the club banger.' Look out for it in April.
SUPPORT REAL MUSIC!
Happy Birthday Rah! We're not even going to talk about all the ones and elevens going on today... :)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Hot off the press!
Just got off the phone with my team. I booked a short film called STRONGER. It's a gay role (surprise surprise), but I honestly didn't imagine I would get the job. I am set to play a soap opera actor...in a modern twist on a Strindberg play.
I'm going to go ahead and just tell you it's about ten pages of me talking non-stop and I'm sort of terrified... But it will be interesting to see how it turns out! I shoot later this month.
See? This blog just became TOTALLY RELEVANT. (I wouldn't post something like this on FB or twitter...)
I'm going to go ahead and just tell you it's about ten pages of me talking non-stop and I'm sort of terrified... But it will be interesting to see how it turns out! I shoot later this month.
See? This blog just became TOTALLY RELEVANT. (I wouldn't post something like this on FB or twitter...)
ENVIOUS MOON Video Stills. (photos by LAMI Group)
(And a special shout out to Rory Arnold for insisting I start this blog. It's long overdue!)
Friday, January 7, 2011
WHO?!?!?
Just to get you up to speed, my name is Darryl. I'm an artist prone to activism...
I'm best known as an actor, but I also write stories and screenplays and I make music...
This blog is where you will find updates on all of my work. My novel will be coming out some time after my first music video... and the album will be released later this year. Check in here to stay updated on everything 'Darryl.' This is your direct link into my world. Stay classy, San Diego. And thanks for stopping by...
I'm best known as an actor, but I also write stories and screenplays and I make music...
This blog is where you will find updates on all of my work. My novel will be coming out some time after my first music video... and the album will be released later this year. Check in here to stay updated on everything 'Darryl.' This is your direct link into my world. Stay classy, San Diego. And thanks for stopping by...
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