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| What I look like when I am very, very happy! August 19th, 2008 My, my, my... how time flies. I have been a bad little monkey as far as keeping up this website blog. I'm sorry. I have so much to catch up on that I am basically squinting my eyes and smacking my forehead trying to remember it all. Blame it on the sun or the waves, Or, as Milli Vanilli once said, blame it on the rain. NO matter how you slice it I am tres behind on giving you a little update on all things NAP-O-LICIOUS. So how should I do this? How do I possibly catch you up on this wild and wacky summer? Let me do it with pictures since I know that you're freakin busy too and truly don't have time for my rambling right now. Picture Number One: Private Party with Elvis Costello.
| Now lets just say, for the record, that we have opened and followed alot of famous people. It is a byproduct of living and rocking in the Hamptons. In general, it does nothing for me. People are people. Blah, Blah, blah... BUT ELVIS COSTELLO!! Are you flippin kidding me??? He is one of my all time FAVORITES. I mean. He's up there with Tom Jones. Rest assured I didn't throw any underwear at him but I did compliment him oh his fabulous dark blue shoes which I might add, only Elvis Costello could wear. Do not try that at home. Keep the blue shoes to Elvis. Presley or Costello but not you. I love Elvis Costello so much that I am geeking out and making a photo collage of us having been on the same stage. Yes. I geek for Costello. His performance that night was divine. Ambrosia. Cherubs singing upon a bed of fluffy white baby goose feathers after drinking alot of Jameson Whiskey. I have officially checked it off my "Things to do before I die" checklist. Sequoia Trees, Surfing on a full moon in Costa Rica and Elvis Costello. Check. Photo Number Two: White Trash Party 
| Ok. Next.... isn't there a saying like, "Imitation is the best form of flattery" or something to that effect? Yeah. Right. What if someone imitates you at a, ummm I don't know... how about a WHITE TRASH PARTY??? Does that make me one step behind a fake Cheeto smeared Britney? Lord knows I love my cheetos. Actually I happen to think it is really, really funny and that is only because it is done, to perfection I might add, by the fabulous Richard. I love Richard. He is my main bitch and has my back most of the summer. Girls check him out. Guys check him out. Everyone has the hots for dear, delicious Richard Holub. So if he wants to dress up as me for a party celebrating the white trash in the hamptons I say BRING IT ON! AND just for the record, he was a true gentleman and asked if it was cool to do BEFORE the party. As for the actual party it was a kooky, wonderful night and if you missed it then I'm sure you can catch me grabbing my bruised ass on stage in my homemade pink fur rug bra on HBO this winter as they were there filming everyone in there toothless glory. Lord help me. I kept saying to the guy filming, "You will set this up that it is at a WHITE TRASH PARTY right??". With my luck it will be juxtoposed next to some ritzy polo match chick. Keep your fingers crossed. How do I get myself into this shit?! Whatelse... Um I have been surfing alot this summer. To much. My brain is all numb and fuzzy and all I think about is waves and cold pizza. I have remained my son, "Dude" and have been wearing the same shorts for three weeks. Not really. But I have had quite a few people ask me how to I get my arms in shape. Here is my official answer: Play 6-8 hours a week of intensive guitar (if you want to work your legs then do it while surfing an amplifier and doing a backbend). Then paddle a surfboard about three to five times a week for anywhere from one to four hours *(babysitter required). Then Carry a 45 lb toddler up and down stairs several times a day while he swings at your face. Oh yeah and don't forget to sleep every night, upside down holding a twelve pound dumbell in each hand. Hee hee. Heee heee heee. Ohhhhh I love it. God I've missed this website. On a final note most of you know that Montauk lost a great man last week. Nick Deane, owner of our old stomping ground, NIcks on the Beach, passed away after a long battle with Cancer. You can send his wife Claire (who also runs the bar) a sympathy card at: Claire Dowling, Nicks on the Beach, 148 South Emerson Street, MOntauk NY 11954 Nick was a true lover of music and I have the fondest memories of him rolling up in his big old beautiful car, puffin on a stoggy and nodding his head to our cajun rythms. He always made a point of thanking me after my band played and always had a smile on his face. He will be sorely missed. As the summer sun starts to fade a little earlier in the sky each night, may you take time to look down at your feet and see their glowing siloutte against the sweet embers of a pure atlantic driftwood beach fire. In that moment you are truly alive. Thanks to all of you who continue to come out and support my band!!! You rock my world. Lady Atlas 
| Live Large and Play Hard baby! New Logo by MB Joyce June 30th, 2008 Holy Hot Sauce Batman I've got a new logo! It was time baby and man oh man did we nail it. I think it is quite hot and plan on plastering it on just about everything from tee shirts to toilet paper. Hee hee. That is once we get the production ball rolling. There is a follow up to this one where the chick is much more tattoo stylee... We will be unleashing THAT logo on sweatshirts later this summer. Anyway, you're one of the first people to see it and while it isn't particularly relevant to any world news it is quite ground breaking for me because I haven't had a new logo for like... ummm... forever. That's a pretty long time. Thanks to everyone who came out to our Memorial Day show. It was a goodie. My cousin, Phil Atlas (aka Chad Smith of Chili Peppers), really tore the roof off. He is SOOOOO bloody much fun to make music with... I must remember to hydrate well before he shows up as I sweat about 5lbs off in the 5 songs he plays. Also on checklist: Uber waterproof mascara. Did anyone ever see "Talledega Nights"? It's a comedy with Will Farrell who is a race car driver and in one scene he jumps into a car with a feral cougar in the back seat. That about sums up playing with Chad... you take your life in your hands with him behind the drums. It's a sweaty, rollicking, good old fashioned stomp into the heavenly spheres of Rock and Roll. Alright, I wish I could also show you the full on photo shoot I did two weeks ago at the Talkhouse with about 20 other people where we simulated a rock show butt naked. Yes, you heard it right. It was a very Austin Powers like deal though where everyone is buck ass but you actually don't see any illegal parts unless of course you want them too. Very artsy. Let's just say for the record that I don't go looking to do this shit but it just comes to me and really It was all Peter's fault. The Peter I am referring to in this case is Peter Honerkamp who happens to own the Talkhouse. Peter is kooky and brilliant and moody and all sorts of genius. Let's say that he and knows how to get the best out of people. So when he called me up and told me of his vision, this photo that was inspired by a previous photo a photographer did in Europe of everyone naked in a bar and how Peter wanted to up the anty and make it a naked rock show... well, how could I refuse? It was done by a great photographer out here and I just didn't want to see it and think, "Damn, why did I wimp out." So two Tuesdays ago I showed up at 6pm with my japanese robe and a dream and went for the gold. Actually it was a total hoot and the photo is HYSTERICAL and artsy. I love it and I'm sure you will be able to get a glimpse of it this summer behind the bar. I'm the naked chick on stage with the boa and the guitar and red boots leading the naked crowd into the frenzy. I am so glad I decided to take the plunge and do it. Life is to short damnit. Get in and swim. And just for the record, it's now official: I will never be President of the United States. Sorry Mom. So, although I am slightly repeating myself: May you take time to look down at your feet and find them on a carpeted stage with no socks in Red boots, with a boa around your neck, a guitar covering your coochie and 20 of your friends posing naked before you and laughing. In that moment you are truly alive. See you this Thursday and be prepared for a throw down! I aim to honor my new logo by kicking your ass with live music. Big Love and Broken Guitar Strings, Nancy 
| Be afraid. Be VERY afraid! #1 Feather Boas Shipment 2008! June 17th, 2008 So take a moment to observe the above photo. They are the hangover cuplrits of the upcoming summer. Look at them all innocent and coy, tightly wrapped in their little plastic baggies. No, it's not some form of bagged florescent liquid... they are a box of Boa Feather Mayhem! Feathers, feathers, everywhere feathers. I'm sure if Soundman Mike see's this photo he will flinch. He's still finding/picking bright plummage stuck inside stray crevises of the Talkhouse house amplifiers. Truly, in the summer, the soundpeople can tell if I've played the night before just based on the fact that it looks like a cat attacked a flamingo on stage. A tri-colored flamingo mauling would mean I rocked it hard into the wee hours of the night. It's almost become my signature so if, at some point in November, you are packing away your late night summer clothes and find a purple feather stuck to your party underwear just smile and know that you are an official part the the A team squad. In other words, you party hard. You will also note that I have some new colors brewing this year. A little yellow, orange and red. I was feeling a little festive when I ordered this boa motherload. This morning I woke up and listened to my bands second album, "Swagger", all the way through for the first time in five years. I saw it sitting on the counter in it's dusty cover and it had been so long since I checked it out. I just kind of reached for it, slipped it in the CD player and cranked it real loud. I left it at 11 all the way through. After the first few chords of the album I was immediately smiling because Johnny and I worked on that project through the summer of 2001 and each song brings back memories of us jumping in the pool during takes because his studio, at the time, had no air conditioner. I also remember having about two dimes in my pocket. I was SOOOO broke. Everything in life at that time was raw and on the wire and we recorded "Swagger" in the best and most beautiful way... with our hearts, hands and in Johnny's case, a small bit of vodka. About 200 gallons. When I listen to it I just think of being so young and the torture of leaving a long, old relationship that was nice and comfy but wrong and at the same time falling in love with someone new and exciting and well just still figuring out how to heal wounds that cut real deep and shouldn't, necessarily, heal without a scar. I had unexpectedly lost about four friends/family members in a space of four months and couldn't wrap my head around it. Anyway, what is my point... Ummmm... the point is that it felt REALLY, really good to listen to that album as I cleaned my kitchen and wiped up stray yogurt from my wild and wicked toddler. Something was calling me back in a way. Actually, I wouldn't say calling... I would say slapping both it's thighs and screaming at me like there was a tornado over my shoulder. It was like, "YO! HEY! GET ON IT GIRL! COME ON BACK THIS WAY!!!" We shall see, we shall see. Let's say my ears where open and the initial storm winds are starting to blow my very dry blonde hair.What else? Ahh yes. The horse race. So, so, so. So... "Big Brown" Triple Crown race had a much different ending then we had all hoped for. Alas, our band was playing the afterparty and the Belmont Stakes results made my personal job just a Weeeee bit harder. Just a tad. No one thinks of the after party when people actually LOSE but I guess I have a whole new respect for the band that plays the POST Superbowl parties for the Buffalo Bills. Ouch. Because this event was for the Triple Crown, we were expected to rock out over two thousand people on an all time gambling high. For those of you that have never been around WINNING gamblers let me just try to describe their energy: Turbo fueled jet crack cocaine double fisted jumping off the Niagra Falls naked, sweaty and screaming with asphalt ripped vocal chords kind of energy. Yeah. That is how gamblers party when they win big. Soooooo, Instead we had to buckle down and rock the socks off of about 700 people that were sad, slothy and in a state of shock from losing big. Something kind of got into my blood though. I was ready to rock. I, along with the band, took it as a personal challenge to cheer these people up. By the end of the night the dancefloor was drunk, singing and dancing. I was pround in a very bizarre way. All in all, even without the Triple Crown in house, we partied on. Mission accomplished. Everyone left feeling fine. They had gone for the old college try with this horse and lost but in life you have to, as I say, "Live large and play hard" OR, as the NY state lotto says, "You gotta be in it to win it!" OR as Madonna say's as Eva Peron, "Don't Cry for me Argentina!". Failure is great if you look at it the right way. I swim in it all the time and everynow and then I catch a wave and ride that bitch all the way into the beach. It rips off my bikini and I get a massive sand burn but I always come out laughing at the strength of the damn ocean of life. Respect. Ok. Now I am thinking of Cyril and laughing. Someone please take this keypad away from me. Enough navel-gazing. Hey before I forget check out these photos. To any musician, or person that knows Johnny Blood they are pretty funny. One is of him playing with the amp set-up the way he ALWAYS wants it to be and the other is when there is with very limited power for a beach party. See if you can note the difference in size. Everytime I look at that link I laugh. May you take the time to look down at your feet and find them dancing around to an old song that sounds brand new. In that moment you are truly alive. See you on the frontline and make sure you push aside the people that don't dance in the front row! Let's get those fuckers out of there. Play Hard and Live Large! Lady Atlas 
| Splint me up BABY! Memorial Day 2008! Photo by Nik Wilson May 27th, 2008 The difference between this post and the last is that I am typing this with a splint on my index finger. If you go down to the link below you will see it on my left hand. No I did not intentionally match it to my shirt but it was an added bonus! So in short typing is a bitch. Other fun past times include learning how to strum a few chords on my guitar and eating with my middle finger on the head of a fork. Being that it is my left hand, the chord making hand well, it proved for some very interesting C chord progressions and guitar face. Guitar face is what you get when you are really in the moment and not aware of the face you are actually making. Yes, it is the same face you make when you are surfing a decent wave or maybe well into a great round of sex. That face. I didn't say it was pretty. Sometimes people at shows get it too! All I know is that it happens when you are so focused that you don't even know what that you look like or really care. You're eyebrows are usually crunched and your either biting your lip or letting them hang open and loose in a form of an "O". We've all been there... and we all have photos of it (photos of us with Guitar face or guitar face during playing sports. I'd be very impressed if someone got a photo of the "other" activity that makes this face but I digress and NO, don't send me it via email. thanks anyway). So yes, it was a weekend full of guitar face and kick ass music. Who could ask for anything more?I'll write a little more later. Right now I gotta split. Just wanted to say THANKS for coming out this weekend and making some new records at the Talkhouse. You guys rule! I will write more later for sure. May you take time to look down at your feet and find then planted on a stage in 3 inch heel teal boots as lean fully backwards, let your hair freefall away from your neck, swig an Amstel Light and get ready to belt out another Chorus of "Highway to Hell" whilst a 21 year old male from West Virginia screams out that he loves you and you know he really doesn't. In that moment you are truly alive. Rock it sledge, Nancy 
| The Big Brown Posse: Sandi, Rick (Dutrow- Trainer), Atlas, Mike, Ronny and Richard! May 7th, 2008 Where do I start? The girl that never shuts up (that would be me) is at a loss for words. Ok... the silence is over: BIG BROWN WINS THE KENTUCKY DERBY!!! That happens to be particularly relevant because we played the pre-race party for the boys on Friday night in Louisville, Kentucky. I am slightly numb from it all and over the moon for Rick, Sandi and all of the Big Brown Posse. They've had quite a run and I love these guys like they are my brothers. I've played their parties for the last few years and am starting to gear up for our June 7th show where Big Brown will Race for THE TRIPLE CROWN!! Sweet Bombas... We play the afterparty and lets just say I'm renting a room up island that night. It's kind of like knowing the Quarterback for the superbowl favorite. Very exciting and nerve racking and butterflies. I don't know how these guys do it! I bet on one race and I nearly had a heart attack. My chest was pounding for a good half hour later and yes, I won, across the board 6,5 and 1. Good old Bretty King is back in my good graces! hee hee. Some of you may remember two years ago when I gave him some cash to bet and he got caught up in the pre race chat and instead of betting what I asked him to he bet an exactor and lost... meanwhile my initial bet would have won. Boys, boys, boys.. you got to love them. The Pre Race Chat that year was between the jockey and the owner so I guess I should cut him some slack. So, If you are a singer there are a few things you have to learn about going to the Races. Rule number one: Bring your SUCKERS! It's the kind of screaming you can't control. Kind of like jumping off a cliff... you really can't stop yourself from shouting like you are about to die. Primal. Well the same is true for horseracing. You cannot stop yourself from punching your fist in the air and screaming your ears, throat and brain out. It brings out the Braveheart in you, sans the blue balls and kilts. I felt like I was in third grade and my dodgeball team was in triple overtime with our red rubber ball sailing towards the goal post. THAT kind of screaming. Man oh man, I'm not a gambler but I can see how people get addicted to the feeling. It was a rush.So we flew back on Saturday morning for an Original Showcase at the Talkhouse because I am a jack ass dumb blonde. I mean. What the hell was I thinking? I basically missed a chance to stand in the winners circle of the Kentucky Derby with my brown boa. Life moment lost. BUT... I will tell you a secret. It was worth it! We had so much fun on Saturday night that by about three songs into the showcase I wasn't even missing my Kentucky Woodford Reserve! Our Original shows have really been getting a response and I thank all of you for coming out. YOU ROCK MY WORLD and I love you for it. Also, Happy Birthday DAD! He doesn't really read the site (thank GOD) but I still have to put it out there. Lobster Lou turns 71 today and is setting a great example for me on how to get older and still kick ass! Today he woke up and I called him to wish him a happy birthday and find out which restaurant we are taking him and my Mom to tonight. He said, "Well, I'm checking my lobster pots today and if I get some then we eat at home." Seventy-one and he's pulling up his ass cracking jeans, grabbin my mom and checking his lobster pots. His boats' is named "OOP-Si P/A Free". He has it glued on the back in black letters. Your now asking yourself if you read that right. Yes, you did, "OOP-Si P/A Free" . "OOPSi is actually 0.oo psi which means "No pressure" in terms that only an metalergist can know and love. "P/A Free" is another term that stands for "No Stress". So actually the boats name is "No Pressure- Stress Free". Leave it to a retired aerospace engineer to come up with that one. It makes "Large Marge" look like a no frills cornflake name. How can you NOT love Oopsi Pa Free? He also brought me my first fluke of the year which I must say I filleted with love! yesterday evening. Look at that beauty! I used to clean fish when I ran the Clam Bar at Napeaque in my college days. 20 Tuna at a time plus opening and steaming clams all day. They used to call me "one bad ass Mothersucker". I guess that's better then what they call me now:)! Ok, there's more. Today I planted my potatoes and my pumpkin seeds. IF you have a patch of rolling hill in sunlight I HIGHLY recommend that you go out and buy a package of pumpkin seeds and put a few in the ground. It is an absolute pisser to watch these things grow and then come fall you feel like they are your little orange puppies. DO IT. Or at least a little basil. Common, get your hands dirty damnit, it's spring! Ok. That's my last Martha Stewart moment. Sorry. I got a little carried away there but I have just been loving the sunny spring days we've been having. I'm done. As is custom: May you take the time to look down at your feet and find them off the cement ground at Churchill Downs because you are leaning over the green steel pole with your whole body and screaming, "COMMON NUMBER 5!". In that moment you are truly alive. Can't wait to see you all at the next show. I've said it before and I'll say it again: We are nothing without you! Rock it Nancy 
| Watch out, summer is coming... I never tire of this photo! Atlas Victim #27 April 29th, 2008 Ok. Running, running, running here. Running in my new sock monkey slippers this morning. They are very cute and keeping me from stressing out to much because really, how can you get that worked up when you are wearing monkeys on your feet? Just the same, things are nuts. We just got a confirmation for a Kentucky Derby party yesterday so we are busy in the office today booking flights and finding out if Babysitters can sleep over as it is in two days. Thus is the life of a rocker. It's not all feather boa's and Amstel Light. Right now I would pay someone 2K if they could find my cell phone. I am not even kidding. Yes, I've tried calling it. I fully expect to find it in my fishtank or some other bizarre place that only a toddler can think of. My dear two year old son Cash has a solid sense of humor and a keen way of hiding things that only he can find. Or not find. I will never know if it's intentional... all I can do is blackmail him with cookies and hope for the best. Big Kudos to Kelly Ripa for chatting up the band on "Regis and Kelly Live". If you missed it try using this link. It is from the HOST CHAT on April 21st, 2008. She starts talking about us about 10 minutes into the clip so if you are busy you can just fast forward it. Unless you want to hear her and Reeg talk about the Pope. Yup. The Pope and Atlas... who knew we would ever be in the same sentence. So here's the link: Host Chat with "Regis and Kelly LIVE!". YOU WILL HAVE TO FIND "MONDAY APRIL 21st!! at this link and load that day in. Remember, the part is 10 MINUTES IN on that clip. Enjoy! The only pitfall from this whole thing is that now my father insists on being called "Elvis" and wants to know why he's married to a lesbian... You will understand when you see the clip. Trust me. What else... um our birthday party show was, as Abby Levin would say, "RICHTER!". She uses that in reference to the Richter Magnitude Scale for Earthquakes. I quite like her little phrase and well, it fits quite nicely with our show last week. Off the charts. FUN FUN FUN. We all spent the next two days recovering from Rockoutitis, a rare disease when you rock out to hard and use your whole body past it's limit. For like four hours. It's probably similiar to what people feel when they run the NY marathon. The same except without the leg cramps or the splashed water on their clothes. ALSO, this past weekend: Thank you all for coming out to the B-Smith Show. We raised alot of money for Jordon Haerter, the young Sag Harbor man who was killed in Iraq last Tuesday. The sadness of this event is to much to process. I know his Dad and all I can say is thank you for coming and contributing. We are planning on building a monument of some sort with this money. More later on this but please add Chris and Joanne in your prayers these days. It is a situation for which there are no words. Ok. I gotta split. Love you all and yes, I will bring you back some whiskey from Louisville. May you take time to look down at your feet and find them in sock monkey slippers that your best friend bought you for your birthday. In that moment you are truly alive. Rock it Nancy
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