The Mr. Mike VIP Experience


Do you think you are a Very Important Person? If you have enough disposable income, we’ll pretend to think so too!

For a limited time, we here at Mr. Mike’s Mostly Musical Mashup are offering a rare glimpse behind the scenes of a real live rock show.

For the insane price of $998.97, you get:

  • Meet & greet with Mr. Mike himself, or an incredibly life-like cardboard cut-out, or a green screen where we can superimpose his image.

  • Individual photo opportunity with Mr. Mike. We guarantee that his hands will be kept in view of cameras at all times, with none of the grabbing and groping you get at many of these events. You may feel free to grab and grope Mr. Mike. He enjoys that kind of thing.

  • Mr. Mike will sign any piece of memorabilia you bring, from CDs to Mike Power Atomic Man action figures. Please do not ask him to sign any body parts. We are still in litigation over the last Meet & Greet.

  • Commemorative VIP doohickey of some sort. We are still working on this part.

Get your tickets here

Enter the code MRMIKEVIP when ordering your tickets to take advantage of this once-or-twice-or-however-many-times-we-can-get-away-with-in-a-lifetime offer.

See you at the show!

DISCLAIMER: Anyone attempting to enter a code, redeem a golden ticket, or wander backstage at any time before, during, or after the show, will be handed over to the proper authorities for psychological evaluation.

Bands of Co-Conspirators

band collage3 (1)

I have been making music for over 40 years and have had the good fortune in that time to have worked with some insanely talented people. In my college dorm, in my wife’s office, even in my parents’ basement, I found musicians, singers, and songwriters who astounded and challenged me. It is impossible to say how much I learned from each of them. I only know that every note I play comes from a foundation we built together.

I was tempted to harangue some, all, or as many as I could persuade, of my previous co-conspirators, to join me for this show, but new phases sometimes require new faces. My instinct this time around was to work only with artists I hadn’t worked with before.

The first one added to the roster for this show is a man, like me, who has played for many years with many bands. His bands include Letters From Home, The Providers, and the Snook Brothers. He is the wonderful guitarist Vinny Armanino. How wonderful? You can pick up a ticket and find out. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

Get your tickets here.

Vinny and I – and the rest of the fife and drum corps jug band orchestra and fellow-travelers – will spend the next month preparing a uniquely memorable experience for each member of our audience. We would love to see you there.

Here is a recording by one of the 1990s version of my co-conspirators named Late Model Humans, performing one of the songs that will be featured at the show: You’re The Only One (I Think).

In your chain I’m just a link
A valentine that isn’t pink
Like all the others in a blink
I’m gone like water down your sink
But if you’ll give me one more drink
If you’ll just give me one more drink then I’ll say

You’re the only one, you’re the only one
You’re the only one, I think
You’re the only one, you’re the only one
You’re the only one, I think

Next time we’re down at the bar
And you say this time I’ve gone too far
That I just want to drink and play guitar
Like I’m some kind of fucking star
I’ll pound down another drink
I’ll pound down another drink and I’ll say

You’re the only one, you’re the only one
You’re the only one, I think

What can I do to make you stay
Why do I always have to say
You’re the only one for me, girl
Why do I always have to say
You’re the only one, you’re the only one

This is no ordinary thirst
I’m fighting off the family curse
And still I know it would be worse
If I was alone in this universe
A universe as black as ink
But if you’ll give me one more drink then I’ll say

You’re the only one, you’re the only one
You’re the only one, I think

Coming Full Circle in NYC


Thirty five years ago, I moved to New York City, into a friend’s apartment at 4 Saint Mark’s Place. On September 22, I will be performing a show at the Kraine Theater, four blocks away from that first apartment. I’ll be playing songs that I wrote during the years I lived in Greenwich Village, songs I wrote when I lived on the Upper West Side, and ones written in my current home in the Bronx.

Get your tickets here.

The city has changed a lot since my first days here, hanging out in clubs like the Ritz, the Limelight, Danceteria, and CBGBs, finding new experiences that seeped into my songs. In music I found the power of melody and poetry to inspire and soothe and reveal and heal. I would love to share some of these experiences with you in the city that always will be home to me.

Here is a recording from the mid-nineties, by an early incarnation of Late Model Humans, of one of the songs I’ll be performing: New York City.

One night only…

Please note that this post will remain at the top of my blog until the show. Scroll down for more recent posts.

For one night only – Sunday, September 22 – you (yes, you) can experience a show that is a little different from other shows you’ve seen. I hope you will come to the Kraine Theater at 85 East 4th Street in Manhattan and witness Mr. Mike’s Mostly Musical Mashup.

Get your tickets here.

I will be performing original songs written from the 1980s to this year, including ones originally recorded with Late Model Humans, and performed at CBGBs, the Bitter End, and Kenny’s Castaways. In addition to the songs there will be instrumental pieces, original poetry, visual art, and a few surprises.

I hope you can join me on September 22, as we find out together just what Mr. Mike’s Mostly Musical Mashup is all about.


I Love You So Bad It Hurts (LIVE)

The second song I played at an open mic recently is one of my favorite originals of the past few years. Musically, it’s a simple progression that’s made a little fresher by putting a capo on the 10th fret so that the guitar almost sounds like a mandolin. Lyrically, each verse repeats the first line at the end with a little bit of a twist caused by the lines in between.


I love you so bad it hurts
with a kind of pain that I don’t mind at all
I love you so bad it hurts

I love you so much I don’t
have anything left for anyone else
I love you so much I don’t

I love you so much I can’t
drink enough so I can forget
the way your love burns like a lit cigarette
but I love you so much I’ll never regret
that I love you so much I can’t

I’ve loved you so long I can’t see
all the way back to the morning before
my love came knocking around at your door
and I might as well just admit that I’m yours
’cause I’ve loved you so long I can’t see

I’m Not Afraid (LIVE)


Fear is the challenge
to overcome or to succumb
and either way your work’s not done
Once you think you’ve got it licked
you’ve only learned half of the trick
Just because you lose, or win,
doesn’t mean a goddamn thing
the next time that the fear begins


They say the fear of public speaking is the greater than the fear of death, which makes some sense to me since we all know from a tender age that we will die but there is nothing to say that we will speak in public. That is one bullet we can dodge. And the devil you know is always more palatable than the strange one.

By my blurry count, I have taken to the stage between 40 and 50 times and, like everything in life, each could be the last but so far this is just the latest. I wrote this song about fear a few months ago and performed it last week at Mary O’s on Avenue A between 2nd & 3rd. If you’re in the neighborhood drop in for a meal or a drink but don’t tell Mary I sent you. She wouldn’t know me from a hole in the wall.


So here’s a fucked-up thing that happened….

Yesterday I saw an ad on Craigslist that piqued my curiosity. A guy was looking for a guitarist to learn a set and perform it live tonight at the Bowery Electric. I told him I could do it.
I took a half-day off from work to meet the rest of the band and rehearse the set at Rivington Studio on the Lower East Side. You’ll have to take my word for it that I am not a vain man, but I was pretty fucking hot. On guitar.

After the rehearsal I went home to feed the cats and my own hungry belly that had tasted nothing but a buttered roll all day, and to take a nice cold shower since I was sweating from all the hard work I’d done, creating art. Then I took a couple of trains down to the Bowery.
At 10:30 we took to the stage. The drummer assembled his ridiculously elaborate collection of cymbals – seventeen of them. The bass player and I plugged in, tuned up, and were ready to go. But the guy who brought us together – the singer, and writer of the songs we were to perform – was nowhere. 
A call was made to the missing man. We assured the soundwoman that he was on the train and would be there momentarily. The next call we got was from the hospital where he was being treated after he fell and smashed his head.
Part of me wanted to stay at the bar and get drunk but the better part of me said to go home. I actually stood on the sidewalk, leaning on my guitar case, pondering. On the way home, everywhere I looked – I mean literally everywhere –  were people hanging on each other, kissing and giggling, including a couple practically rubbing against me on the subway. And my one and only love is on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
The guy was supposed to pay me $150. 
That’s more than anyone has ever paid for my art.
Is it mere coincidence that it looks like a casket?