Posts Tagged ‘PJ’

‘Treme,’ Ep. 27: The Fat Man

DJ Davis (Steve Zahn) gains an audience with Fats Domino and his many gold records.

Paul Schiraldi/HBO i

DJ Davis (Steve Zahn) gains an audience with Fats Domino and his many gold records.

Paul Schiraldi/HBO

Born in 1928, Fats Domino enjoyed the first of his many hits — almost all of which were created in New Orleans — when “The Fat Man” rose up the RB charts all the way to No. 2. That was in 1950. Which explains all the records on the wall at his house, and the regal status he is afforded.

That, and other musical explainers, are in our latest Treme music recap, with WBGO’s Josh Jackson.

Patrick Jarenwattananon: Davis, proclaimed “the luckiest white man in America,” is finally getting some buy-in for his crazy RB opera idea. First, he collaborates — or tries to — with singer-songwriter Paul Sanchez.

Josh Jackson: Davis finds a sympathetic ear from songwriter Paul Sanchez, who knows a thing or two about creating a New Orleans-themed theatrical production. Sanchez collaborated with Colman DeKay on Nine Lives: The Musical, a paean to the city based on writer Dan Baum’s nonfiction account of New Orleans residents’ oral histories.

Of course, Davis has stratospheric aspirations. To recap so far, he’s gathered some local legends: Irma Thomas, Clarence “Frogman” Henry, Al “Carnival Time” Johnson, Robert Parker and Frankie Ford.

PJ: Then, through Davell Crawford, he gains entry into Fats Domino’s house. (I didn’t know Fats Domino was still around!) Of course, Fats isn’t exactly into it.

JJ: “I can’t sing opera,” he says with a sly laugh. Fats Domino doesn’t perform much at 84, and why does he need to anyway? Dude’s got a Cadillac-themed sofa! He no longer lives in his Caffin Avenue home, the Ninth Ward residence where he lived most of his adult life, and where Davis and Davell seemingly visit him. Domino now lives in a gated community on the West Bank of Jefferson Parish, across the Mississippi River from New Orleans. He still likes his Heinekens. (Hence the impromptu line in this version of his hit, “Blueberry Hill”). All those gold and platinum records — replacements after they were lost during Katrina — say what needs to be said.

PJ: While all this is going on, Davis quits WWOZ — after he’s confronted about nepotistic support of Annie’s band on air. We do get a miniature lesson on Cajun music, though.

JJ: We hear the very end of BeauSoleil’s “Flammes D’enfer,” which first appeared on the band’s excellent recording, Bayou Cadillac. Davis played some other notable Cajun music, as we discover in his back announce: “La Valse du Port Arthur” from the Balfa Brothers and “Valse du Opelousas” from accordionist Amedee Ardoin with fiddler Dennis McGhee. Those Ardoin recordings are some of the earliest documented Cajun music — with a racially integrated band, no less. Musicians and scholars universally revere their important historical influence. By the way, Steve Zahn’s pronunciation of these names could use some polish. I hope that was done in character.

PJ: And finally, a happy note, when he convinces a skeptical Irma Thomas to sing his “satirical”/”sardonic” piece, “The New Ninth Ward.”

JJ: She does it, but she “hopes they have a good ballad for the B-side.” Those are some funny-sad lyrics. Hit material it isn’t.

PJ: In other music this episode, we see Antoine take his student to hear another special lesson. That’s the clarinetist Dr. Michael White working with the Hot 8 Brass Band on New Orleans traditional jazz.

JJ: Dr. Michael White is teaching members of the Hot 8 Brass Band the old songs like “Bugle Boy March,” “Dark Sunshine” and “Shake It and Break It.” Here are informally educated street musicians “from around the way,” attending a workshop with a clarinet-wielding doctorate. As Antoine says, “There isn’t a musician who’s worth a damn who ever stops learning.”

It’s a teachable moment for Antoine’s student, Jennifer. Earlier in the episode, Antoine teaches “Careless Love,” another staple in the New Orleans tradition. When he asks how the lyrics affect the interpretation of the melody, he learns that his budding trumpet player cannot read words; she has a severe learning disability. The school is aware of it, yet they continue to pass her through a broken public education system. “Careless Love,” indeed.

PJ: We also heard Guitar Lightnin’ Lee play a song which was highly apropos for his strung-out keyboard player.

JJ: The tune is called “Missing Mama.” Sonny is about to lose another job.

PJ: To close the episode, we have a live performance from the New Orleans sludge-metal band Eyehategod, where Everett seems to be enjoying himself.

JJ: I’ll be the first to admit this was never my jam. I’m much more familiar with the preceding scene at Gigi’s, where Chief Lambreaux and his gang are working out to “Let’s Go Get Em” at Indian practice. Here I defer to NPR Music’s resident authority, metal enthusiast Lars Gotrich:

If New Orleans isn’t technically the birthplace of sludge metal — Seattle and Melvins have a strong claim there — it certainly represents the dive bar where everyone gets plastered beyond reasonable thought. Sludge metal does what it sounds like: Black Sabbath riffs trudge slower than Swamp Thing, with a bit of a Black Flag hardcore spit-take to swirl the filth. Often, there’s a good ol’ boy Southern rock swagger to it all. When I think about it, bands like Crowbar, Acid Bath, Kingdom of Sorrow, Eyehategod and Down (a bit of a “supergroup” featuring members of most of those bands) are kind of a distorted, feedback-damaged take on the NOLA funeral march. Sludge isn’t NOLA’s only metallic export, of course: Exhorder’s groove-heavy thrash paved the way for Pantera (an Austin band that featured Down vocalist Phil Anselmo), while Goatwhore is the Crescent City’s long-running black/death metal band.

Though I may get flak for it from Down die-hards (and I am one of them), David Simon does right to represent NOLA’s metal history with Eyehategod on this Treme episode. The band makes music that hurts: Squeals of feedback are like shots to the arm, with lyrics of drug-addled hatred for everything and everyone. Mike IX Williams is a confrontational frontman who either cares nothing for himself or cares too much about the world crumbling around him. Like many of his local brethren, he saw his home washed away during Hurricane Katrina. I suspect that may have something to do with the title of the song in the episode, “New Orleans Is the New Vietnam.”

PJ: Thanks again to Lars. Finally: Any good background music catch your ear? I noticed Irma Thomas returns for the end title song, “Anyone Who Knows” — which I gather was co-written by Randy Newman, among others.

JJ: I heard Aaron Neville singing “Hercules” while the Chief flirts with LaDonna at the bar. Killer bass line on that tune.

Most of Sonny’s French Quarter scenes feature music from C.C. Adcock, a Louisiana native whose career has taken him from California glam bands to zydeco and swamp rock. He records infrequently, but his Lil Band O Gold group and Lafayette Marquis band are worth a listen. We hear “Stripper Boogie” and “Harmonica Stomp” while Sonny is on Bourbon Street, and “Slangshotz N’ Boom-R-Angz” inside the strip club. Between Treme and True Blood, Adcock is getting a fat royalty check from HBO.

Article source: http://www.npr.org/blogs/ablogsupreme/2012/10/29/163741607/treme-ep-27-the-fat-man

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Fat and Back

Life is good when you’re a Dolce Gabbana underwear model. Blindingly hot women, invites to the most exclusive clubs, your name shouted at red carpet events. Luxury Italian sportswear fills your wardrobe and Moet flows with hip-hop video vigor. Your abs are shredded; pecs, rock-hard. It’s only natural that, at a career pinnacle like this, you would stop, pinch yourself through your new Prada suit and think, “Now’s a good time to get really, really fat.”

That’s exactly what Aussie personal trainer Paul “PJ” James did on Dec. 31, 2008, as he set out to add nearly 100 pounds of flab to his ripped 176-lb. physique — imagine The Biggest Loser, but in reverse. Bingeing would become his full-time job, and he wouldn’t put down the Ben Jerry’s until his formerly eight-pack abs threatened to bust the buckle of a size-48 belt. Then, like a trim phoenix rising from the ashes of a wood-grilled pizza oven, PJ would launch a full-scale workout assault on his plus-sized physique, torching his freshly acquired fat reserves and rebuilding the same lean, cut musculature that landed him, bare-chested, on the runways of industry giants like Versace, Jean Paul Gaultier and Calvin Klein.

Driving him: A yearning to empathize with his overweight and obese clients — people who would offer “excuses” such as “lunges hurt my knees too much” or “I can’t climb another stair — I can barely breathe!” — as well as demonstrate that, with dedication and the right tools, weight loss success is possible. In a sort of anti-New Year’s resolution, the 33-year-old Australia native pledged to pack on 50 percent of his body weight, maintain it and then shed it, all within 2009. In the process, he traded lat pull-downs for ham-and-cheese roll-ups and watched his deltoids vanish beneath a duvet of fat.

I had the pleasure of working with PJ over the past few years; the culmination of our work is Take It Off, Keep It Off: How I Went from Fat to Fit… and You Can Too — Safely, Effectively, and Permanently. In it, you’ll learn how the road from 6 percent to 32 percent body fat was paved with confidence-sapping potholes and clinically depressed roadblocks. PJ thought losing the weight would be easy; he never imagined he’d become legitimately addicted to junk food and start withdrawing from his girlfriend because he was ashamed of the way he looked naked.

Why would you do this to yourself — pack on nearly 100 pounds of flab?

As a personal trainer, I was getting more and more clients who were overweight and obese. These were people who had serious weight to lose, and all of the baggage that comes with that territory. But whereas I could train my fit or semi-fit clients with my eyes shut, I had no idea how to respond when a heavy client claimed he simply couldn’t muster the energy to walk for five minutes on the treadmill, or tried to explain how anxious and embarrassed she felt in a gym environment. As someone who subsisted on egg whites, grilled fish and steamed sweet potatoes, I hadn’t the slightest clue about life as an emotional eater or junk food addict. I found myself doling out general advice — “do more cardio” or “eat more vegetables” — and they responded with “You’re a freaking underwear model! You have no clue what it’s like for us.” What could I say? They were right. Their questions tossed me far outside my comfort zone and I felt almost reluctant to train them, like I was doing them a disservice. On a very basic and essential level, I couldn’t understand how difficult it was for an overweight person to get into shape, and had no clue as to the best approach to help them mend their eating habits.

What was your diet like before you gained the weight?

I’m a trained chef, so I’d cook myself healthy meals like grilled filet and steamed shiitake mushrooms, or sea bass with ponzu sauce. Lots of sashimi and certain sushi rolls — they offer the perfect protein-carb combination to fuel my workouts. I basically ate clean, enjoying whole, unprocessed foods like fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains and lean proteins instead of pre-packaged items, fast food or anything with a label.

And while packing it on?

Starting on New Year’s Eve, Dec. 31, 2008, my first fat-bomb meal included four lamb gyros, a heaping plate of BBQ, salad, bread and dips, plus a platter of fried fish for dessert… all washed down by eight cans of Coca Cola. My body, used to asparagus and egg whites, was so confused by the sudden influx of grease and salt that I gained 12 pounds overnight, primarily water weight.

For two weeks, I was in heaven. Tuna sashimi and steamed rice were quickly replaced with cheeseburgers and powdered donuts. Foods normally reserved for my Saturday “cheat day” were now up for grabs: bubbly mac and cheese, crispy buckets of KFC’s finest, savory ramen noodles, caramel ice cream and fudge-drizzled dessert pizzas. My buddy, David, owns a pizza joint called Crisp and he’d host me for weekly all-you-can-eat dinner sessions. In the mornings, I toasted the rising sun with three liters of chocolate milk, scrambled eggs and jam-slathered bread; at night, I would polish off an entire chicken before hitting the sack. Then I’d wake up and do it all again. Meanwhile, I reduced my energy expenditure to nearly zero. No lifting weights, no more swimming in the ocean, no Sunday golf outings. I dedicated myself to being a professional couch potato.

Was it awesome, having a “Get Out of Diet Jail Free” card?

The novelty quickly wore off as I saw my years of hard work start to disintegrate. The daily routine of gorging on breakfast, training clients, returning home for an early lunch, taking a nap, consuming lunch number two, watching TV and preparing for a gigantic dinner was taking its toll. I had traded lat pull-downs for ham-and-cheese roll-ups and, as a result, I was watching as my deltoids vanished beneath a layer of fat. I was normally full of energy; now I was lethargic, unmotivated, and dejected. I stopped socializing. My sex life basically vanished.

How did your clients respond?

They thought it was fantastic that someone would go to such lengths to walk a mile in their shoes, and I found that the heavier I became, the harder they worked and the cleaner they ate. It’s almost as if seeing me balloon before their eyes was the perfect motivation for them to not look like that. My client list actually exploded as word spread, with men and women specifically seeking me out because of my Fat and Back experiment.

Did your health suffer as a result of your little experiment?

Within the first two months, my cholesterol and blood sugar skyrocketed, and fat began to accumulate around my liver. Stretch marks tore through my skin as it strained to contain my man boobs and gut. Friends teased me for walking like a duck (in an effort to spare my chafing inner thigh skin.) As my stomach ballooned, a visible arch developed in my spine as it bowed under the excess weight. My ankles were perpetually swollen and my sleep sucked. By the fifth month, my doctor was strongly encouraging me to stop, for both my physical health and emotional well-being; my depression symptoms raised red flags in his mind and my cholesterol, blood sugar and liver enzymes were showing no signs of backing down. My physical therapist was worried that my spine would not straighten back out. But by that point, there had already been a good amount of publicity surrounding my experiment and I felt like I’d be letting everyone down. I wanted to experience those thoughts and feelings, no matter how disturbing they might be. Stopping a month short was not an option.

Keep reading about PJ’s experience in Take It Off, Keep It Off…

For more by Leslie Goldman, click here.

For more personal health stories, click here.

Photos courtesy of Blush Photography.

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Article source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/leslie-goldman/pj-james_b_1561243.html

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Leslie Goldman: Fat and Back

Life is good when you’re a Dolce Gabbana underwear model. Blindingly hot women, invites to the most exclusive clubs, your name shouted at red carpet events. Luxury Italian sportswear fills your wardrobe and Moet flows with hip-hop video vigor. Your abs are shredded; pecs, rock-hard. It’s only natural that, at a career pinnacle like this, you would stop, pinch yourself through your new Prada suit and think, “Now’s a good time to get really, really fat.”

That’s exactly what Aussie personal trainer Paul “PJ” James did on Dec. 31, 2008, as he set out to add nearly 100 pounds of flab to his ripped 176-lb. physique — imagine The Biggest Loser, but in reverse. Bingeing would become his full-time job, and he wouldn’t put down the Ben Jerry’s until his formerly eight-pack abs threatened to bust the buckle of a size-48 belt. Then, like a trim phoenix rising from the ashes of a wood-grilled pizza oven, PJ would launch a full-scale workout assault on his plus-sized physique, torching his freshly acquired fat reserves and rebuilding the same lean, cut musculature that landed him, bare-chested, on the runways of industry giants like Versace, Jean Paul Gaultier and Calvin Klein.

Driving him: A yearning to empathize with his overweight and obese clients — people who would offer “excuses” such as “lunges hurt my knees too much” or “I can’t climb another stair — I can barely breathe!” — as well as demonstrate that, with dedication and the right tools, weight loss success is possible. In a sort of anti-New Year’s resolution, the 33-year-old Australia native pledged to pack on 50 percent of his body weight, maintain it and then shed it, all within 2009. In the process, he traded lat pull-downs for ham-and-cheese roll-ups and watched his deltoids vanish beneath a duvet of fat.

I had the pleasure of working with PJ over the past few years; the culmination of our work is Take It Off, Keep It Off: How I Went from Fat to Fit… and You Can Too — Safely, Effectively, and Permanently. In it, you’ll learn how the road from 6 percent to 32 percent body fat was paved with confidence-sapping potholes and clinically depressed roadblocks. PJ thought losing the weight would be easy; he never imagined he’d become legitimately addicted to junk food and start withdrawing from his girlfriend because he was ashamed of the way he looked naked.

Why would you do this to yourself — pack on nearly 100 pounds of flab?

As a personal trainer, I was getting more and more clients who were overweight and obese. These were people who had serious weight to lose, and all of the baggage that comes with that territory. But whereas I could train my fit or semi-fit clients with my eyes shut, I had no idea how to respond when a heavy client claimed he simply couldn’t muster the energy to walk for five minutes on the treadmill, or tried to explain how anxious and embarrassed she felt in a gym environment. As someone who subsisted on egg whites, grilled fish and steamed sweet potatoes, I hadn’t the slightest clue about life as an emotional eater or junk food addict. I found myself doling out general advice — “do more cardio” or “eat more vegetables” — and they responded with “You’re a freaking underwear model! You have no clue what it’s like for us.” What could I say? They were right. Their questions tossed me far outside my comfort zone and I felt almost reluctant to train them, like I was doing them a disservice. On a very basic and essential level, I couldn’t understand how difficult it was for an overweight person to get into shape, and had no clue as to the best approach to help them mend their eating habits.

What was your diet like before you gained the weight?

I’m a trained chef, so I’d cook myself healthy meals like grilled filet and steamed shiitake mushrooms, or sea bass with ponzu sauce. Lots of sashimi and certain sushi rolls — they offer the perfect protein-carb combination to fuel my workouts. I basically ate clean, enjoying whole, unprocessed foods like fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains and lean proteins instead of pre-packaged items, fast food or anything with a label.

And while packing it on?

Starting on New Year’s Eve, Dec. 31, 2008, my first fat-bomb meal included four lamb gyros, a heaping plate of BBQ, salad, bread and dips, plus a platter of fried fish for dessert… all washed down by eight cans of Coca Cola. My body, used to asparagus and egg whites, was so confused by the sudden influx of grease and salt that I gained 12 pounds overnight, primarily water weight.

For two weeks, I was in heaven. Tuna sashimi and steamed rice were quickly replaced with cheeseburgers and powdered donuts. Foods normally reserved for my Saturday “cheat day” were now up for grabs: bubbly mac and cheese, crispy buckets of KFC’s finest, savory ramen noodles, caramel ice cream and fudge-drizzled dessert pizzas. My buddy, David, owns a pizza joint called Crisp and he’d host me for weekly all-you-can-eat dinner sessions. In the mornings, I toasted the rising sun with three liters of chocolate milk, scrambled eggs and jam-slathered bread; at night, I would polish off an entire chicken before hitting the sack. Then I’d wake up and do it all again. Meanwhile, I reduced my energy expenditure to nearly zero. No lifting weights, no more swimming in the ocean, no Sunday golf outings. I dedicated myself to being a professional couch potato.

Was it awesome, having a “Get Out of Diet Jail Free” card?

The novelty quickly wore off as I saw my years of hard work start to disintegrate. The daily routine of gorging on breakfast, training clients, returning home for an early lunch, taking a nap, consuming lunch number two, watching TV and preparing for a gigantic dinner was taking its toll. I had traded lat pull-downs for ham-and-cheese roll-ups and, as a result, I was watching as my deltoids vanished beneath a layer of fat. I was normally full of energy; now I was lethargic, unmotivated, and dejected. I stopped socializing. My sex life basically vanished.

How did your clients respond?

They thought it was fantastic that someone would go to such lengths to walk a mile in their shoes, and I found that the heavier I became, the harder they worked and the cleaner they ate. It’s almost as if seeing me balloon before their eyes was the perfect motivation for them to not look like that. My client list actually exploded as word spread, with men and women specifically seeking me out because of my Fat and Back experiment.

Did your health suffer as a result of your little experiment?

Within the first two months, my cholesterol and blood sugar skyrocketed, and fat began to accumulate around my liver. Stretch marks tore through my skin as it strained to contain my man boobs and gut. Friends teased me for walking like a duck (in an effort to spare my chafing inner thigh skin.) As my stomach ballooned, a visible arch developed in my spine as it bowed under the excess weight. My ankles were perpetually swollen and my sleep sucked. By the fifth month, my doctor was strongly encouraging me to stop, for both my physical health and emotional well-being; my depression symptoms raised red flags in his mind and my cholesterol, blood sugar and liver enzymes were showing no signs of backing down. My physical therapist was worried that my spine would not straighten back out. But by that point, there had already been a good amount of publicity surrounding my experiment and I felt like I’d be letting everyone down. I wanted to experience those thoughts and feelings, no matter how disturbing they might be. Stopping a month short was not an option.

Keep reading about PJ’s experience in Take It Off, Keep It Off…

For more by Leslie Goldman, click here.

For more personal health stories, click here.

Photos courtesy of Blush Photography.

<!–

Books by this author

–>

This Blogger’s Books from

Follow Leslie Goldman on Twitter:

www.twitter.com/LeslieGoldman

Article source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/leslie-goldman/pj-james_b_1561243.html

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