Author Archive for Linda Chorney



I have never met a nicer “star” than Michael McDonald, who prefers to be called Mike. From his roadies to engineers to band members, they were the nicest people I have ever worked with…as The Opening Act.  (Also the name of my documentary!)

Did you know that some “stars” have it written in their contracts for lets say limo drivers, hotel staff, band members and other humans “not to look directly in their eyes. Only speak when spoken to.” I can guarantee that Mike Mcdonald would burst out laughing to think of such demands. I have opened for many major acts, and they have all been very nice, in truth, however, none of them actually sat side stage to watch my set, (to the best of my knowledge), and then went on to thank me during their set complimenting my performance to the crowd. Wow. I was touched when Mike did that for me…and even hugged me after I finished my show.


This film begins at my soundcheck, where I got the first hint of kindness from Mike McDonald’s crew, as one hooked me up with a tuner, while the other checked my sound in the house, as an extra set of ears for John the house sound man for The Fox Theatre in Tucson…also a smiley guy!

Bla, bla, bla…check it out. This is my free concert for you. And if you enjoy it enough, perhaps consider investing in one of my albums!?  Like my new one, Oysters! Or my (name drop alert) Grammy Nominated Emotional Jukebox!


(Please excuse the low volume, there was a technical glitch. Just turn it up to 11.)



I go back to being a fan of Mike McDonalds golden vocals when he recorded with Steely Dan. And then of course with The Doobie Brothers. It was such an honor sharing a venue with him…and his entire band and crew.






anti-social media

It’s ironic that most of you will read my anti-social media via social media. The fact is that social media is a complete ruse. It has sucked in a large portion of the population to participate in nonsense. And the worst – or best part about it (depending on how your life is) is that it enables you to escape your real life. Yes. Social Media enables one to escape their reality. The reality that surrounds them. Their closest relationships…thus making them anti-social.

When you are completely sucked into this scam, you are not present in your immediate environment. The world is big, and your access to it spreads you thin. It allows you to not be present.

Why is it a ruse? The machine has you believing that tweeting is important. Yes, it is a great way to get word out of stuff you want to promote…or to share something clever to say. I mean, look at how clever Donald Trump is! Now the entire world can see how clever Donald Trump is 24-7! Or recruit idiots to join isis. And we are all paying for it. What is twitter worth?

While twitter’s net worth increases, real relationships decrease. I know it has cost me dearly. How? Well, my “social media” director happens to be my husband. Although it is kind and generous of him, he spends time every day increasing my twitter followers, by reaching out to them and following them, in hopes that they will follow me back. Woopie! I have a bunch of followers, where maybe 5% actually read what I have to say. And I read about 5% of what they have to say, because only 5% of the time are they actually saying something. And now these fuckers have you believing that your worth is valued by the volume of twitter followers you have. And the world is buying it, hookline and sinker. People actually look at how many twitter followers you have, (in the entertainment world, at least) to decide if you are somebody.

Am I somebody? I dunno. What happened to quality, not quantity?  The anti-social media world fucked that up. Not to sound arrogant, but if you are going to say something. SAY SOMETHING! Not hashtag you, you, and this and that. What the fuck does that mean? SAY SOMETHING! Amuse me. Every boring person on the fucking planet has a twitter account. (Am I an asshole, or what?)  But then there are the 5% who amuse.

Am I one of them? I hope so. And when I have something I would like to share, that I think might be beneficial to a stranger; because it might make them laugh, or relate to, or even act as a mini-therapy session, because what I might be bitching about is something they bitch about too, (perhaps in the form of a song) then, yeah, I hope what I am tweeting is productive….thus, I do not tweet often.

But according to my social media director, I have to keep tweeting to stay in the game. So on occasion, he has taken the liberty to tweet for me, and it causes a huge fight. “I would never say that!” Then after the too familiar argument, does it really fucking matter? Who is reading this shit anyway?!

And now we come to the 95% of tweets that mean shit. And responding…or not. And how often one monitors these useless pieces of information interrupting my life. Here I am enjoying a good old program on the boob tube, Sunday night at 10 pm, PST, when I hear a “Blink-a-dink” sound. It’s the sound of my husband’s fucking iphone, which he holds as dear and close to his body as his dick, alerting him to an incoming tweet. Ooh! How exciting. Then another, and another. (And an echo of that same annoying sound coming from his computer as well!)

What is so important that you have to read, and respond to this 95% of garbage right away… at this hour…interrupting your life…or more imperatively, interrupting my life? It is anti-social. And I just think it is sad that so many people fill the void in their life by escaping it.

I am anti-social media, because it causes the participants of the inner-circle to be anti-social. #getalife. #antisocialmedia








This blog will be short and sweet…unlike the Secret Service.

Yesterday I went to a Bernie Sanders Rally in Tucson. Everyone was in great spirits, as we waited in line for an hour before the doors opened in the blaring sun of Tucson. We came equipped with lots of water.

The four in our group had 1 clear plastic bottle of water, and 3 metal containers. We were informed that the metal containers could not be brought in, but the clear plastic was acceptable.

Damn it! I paid 15 bucks for this one I bought in Hawaii at a National Park, and the others are like 10 bucks a piece.

“Okay, you guys save our places in line, and Eli (my nephew) and I will run back to the car (1/2 mile away) to put the water bottles back.”

We dashed to the car, and I brought back 4 clear plastic water bottles full, returning with enough time before the doors actually opened.

I go through the security check point outside, and a guy in full black combat gear says, “You can’t bring in that water bottle.”

I respond matter of factually without raising my voice, but just confused:

“But they told us that clear plastic was okay?”

He barks back – I mean really sternly, uncivilly, with as much authoritarian attitude, which could easily instigate controversy as you can imagine barks back:

“I don’t care what anyone told you. I’m telling you, get rid of the water!!”

I said:

“Okay, jeez, this is a peaceful gathering. There’s no need for the attitude.”

He says:

“Get rid of it.”

(His tone equivalant to saying, “Keep your hands up in the air where I can see them!”)

I decided to not hit back with another comment. I could just imagine him slamming my face down, breaking my nose on the table where they were looking through people’s belongings at the checkpoint.

The guy walked away to another screening line. (Maybe he needed to walk off the potentially dangerous situation…a situation where someone questions his manhood. I mean, look how threatening my gang is!)


That’s when I noticed these thugs uniforms – they clearly said, “Secret Service” on their vests.

Is that the job of the Secret Service? To harass citizens at all costs, for potential threat to presidential candidates? Or is he just another asshole in a uniform, abusing his power?

Really, I muttered under my breath to the other guy, left watching me FINISH MY WATER, (no way I’m wasting it, even though it will make me pee every friggin’ 20 minutes for the next hour)…who was also a Secret Service guy, “That guy needs a Valium.”

Fortunately that guy didn’t slam my face into the table. But it made me think…if I were black, what would have happened? And I bet this happens all the time to black people for just about anything. And these professionals, rather than putting out fires, light the fucking match.

Now, that being said, the second guy, who I did make my what could be considered wise-ass statement to–about the dickhead–did nothing. So, not all guys in uniforms are unworthy of being in their positions. But those who are hotheaded bullies are dangerous, and should be removed from any position of power where citizen’s lives matter.









Everybutty wants to be someone!

With very few exceptions, we’d all love to have our own star in Hollywood! Even if you’re an engineer, doctor, sanitation worker, hooker…we all want to be someone! Right?

Of course taking yourself too seriously is something I don’t tolerate too well.

That being said, I wrote a song, called “EVERYBUTTY”. It’s my token silly Ringoesque song on my new album, Oysters.  With just a hint of sarcasm. No. Really?!


I call it “Everybutty” vs. “Everybody,” simply because the charming, talented co-producer, engineer, Oscar Autie, is from Cuba, and has a very thick accent. It’s so infectious that I asked him to record his vocal on the song.  His pronunciation is priceless.  Thus, everybutty was coined by the man I fondly refer to as “The Everybutty Guy” on the album credits.

Scott and I filmed the music video below, in Los Angeles during Grammy week, while attending several cool parties, like the Soiree. If anybody wants to be someone…it’s in L.A.

Several fellow musicians/Grammy members –  partook with a light-hearted, fun energy. And just about anyone of them could have their own star on Hollywood Blvd. It’s a question of timing and luck…and talent, of course.

But we also went to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and Venice Beach, where everybody wants to be someone, too. Street musicians, homeless people, various artists, tourists from around the world putting their hands in the imprints of stars’ hands in the cement.

It is part of human nature. And although this is a silly little song, I’m hoping its message clicks.

As an experiment, I had Scott photoshop my name onto one of those stars, and posted it on facebook, with the caption:

 I have officialy “made it”. Wow!

Much to my pleasant surprise, the majority of people thought it was for real! And honestly, although I had made it, literally, just for kicks and to promote my song, I was really humbled by the supportive response…and it made me feel like I have made it! Yeah. I want to be someone!


So, without further a doo doo, may I present “EVERYBUTTY”.


Special thanks to the G’s for participating (as I spontaneiously threw a camera in their faces)…they were amazing! And to Harry Perry, an iconic fixture on Venice Beach. I was so grateful that he wanted to be in the video. And that kick-ass band, I am embarrassed to say, I forgot the name! Please, if you know them, please share this.  I asked permission to all involved. You are somebody! (as the song says).




Dear Bernie,


I love you. I believe in you. I’m doing my best to spread the word of the Bern.

My Dad was all for Hillary. I asked him to join me at my house,

for your debate with Hillary in Iowa. When the debate was over, he looked at me and said,

“Wow, Linda, you’re right. He is brilliant. I get it. I’m voting for Bernie Sanders.”

I’m not against Hillary…I’m just for you.

Your rally in Phoenix was the first I have ever bothered to attend. It was inspiring. I took my video camera. And I am proud to say I am one of your contributors. (And I am a frugal musician.)

FOR THE PEOPLE is a song I wrote before you were running for President. The chorus asks, “Who’s gonna fight for the people? Who’ll make it right for the people?”

Well, I think that person is….(drum roll)…YOU! (duh)

So without further adoo doo, may I present my song and music video FOR THE PEOPLE, and hope there is a chance that you watch it and consider using it for your them song as you enter your rallies! 

(The video and the song are two different things, thus when I express myself with politically incorrect visuals in the video..they can be removed if you want to use anything.)

It has been picked up by a couple of facebook pages dedicated to you. It’s a long shot that you’ll get this…but it was also a long shot that you would have a chance at becoming our next President…





I’m trying to talk myself off of this familiar ledge.

“Linda. You’ve been here before, 6 other times, questioning when your albums are ready to fly into the atmosphere for the world to hear.  People tell you, you’re the only one who can hear that one thing that wasn’t loud enough, or too loud. You’ve combed over every note for over a year! Let it go!” How neurotic is that?

Why am I clinching my jaw, even as I write this? I just want my new album; my latest child, to be the best it can be! My last album was nominated for a friggin’ Grammy! But I had an enormous budget for it, due to the generosity and kindess of Jonathan Schneider, aka, The Rock Doc. When you’ve got money, its easier to produce a stellar album. Duh. Its kind of like when you build a house. How do you build a mansion on the budget of a shack? I guess no granite counter tops…or hiring a symphony. If you have a fat budget, you can build the house of your dreams. And if your fireplace is off center, because you or someone else fucked up on the measurements, you can fix it, because you are rolling in the dough. But if you are out of cash…you have to live with it. How sucky is that?

So, no doctors this time. I had to write my own prescription, and pay for it, out of pocket. Does that mean I compromised on quality? Nope. I was so lucky to have the highest callabor musicians and engineers, and best studios on this album. Some were even generous enough to give me a very friendly rate, because they actually wanted to be on the album! How cool is that?

But besides the fact that first and foremost, I put the pressure on myself to deliver the same quality as Emotional Jukebox, I feel I will be put under a microscope by some rooting for me to fail. How dumb is that?

Well, I have to get it done this week. I have promised my “Patrons” to deliver in time for Christmas. Yes. My patrons. I was the original “kickstarter”. Everytime I put out an album, I include an insert in the booklet of my CDs, with a list of supporters, who pre-purchase a load of CDs…and get to say they are patrons of the arts! This year, I was fortunate enough to have a bunch! How awesome is that?

So now I don’t want to let them down, either. I want them to share my album with pride and enthusiasm. So it has to be great……. Is it?

Now I’ve got the artwork. The album cover. Is it good enough? Did I really put a photo of myself naked, at age 55, on the cover? Yup. That decision will help curb the anxiety.

Which brings me back to that ledge, and now my bare ass is hanging over the edge of it! Okay…okay…all of my naughty bits are where they should be…covered.

I just want all of the bits in my album to be where they should be.

Well, my jaw is still sore from clinching, and after expressing my crazy voice in my head trying to figure out if the album is ready to go, to quote a line from my title track, Oysters…





Art Director, the incredible, talented Scott Fadynich!


The players:  (Thank you all!!)

Philip Anderson – electric bass

Oscar Autie – recording engineer, co-producer, mxing, percussion, background vocals, Everybutty guy.
Kenya Autie – background vocals
Evan Bausch – rhythm tracks

Kevin Bents – hammond, piano

Peter Booras – drums
Trevor Junior Brewis – drums
Nona Brown – background vocals
Andy Burton – vox, hammond, accordion, clavier, strings

Eduardo Corzo – piano, clarinet

Kiki Ebsen – organ, accordion, harpsichord, harp, melotron, piano
Dale Edwards – background vocals
Hunter Fadynich – background vocals
Scott Fadynich – background vocals
Heather Hardy – violin
MJ Lee – violin
Kevin Lucas – marimba, percussion
Jeff Oster – trumpet, flugelhorn
Rich Pagano -drums, percussion
Jack Petruzzelli – electric guitar, bass
Edward Roth – piano, hammond
Ron San Miguel – background vocals
David Sands – stand-up bass, electric bass, background vocals
Craig Schumacher – mixing engineer
Trevor Sewell – electric guitar, banjo, proper Englishman chat
Lisa Sniderman – ukelele, background vocals
Paul Speer – electric guitar
Glen Spreen – string arrangements
Angelo Tomandl – harmonica
Andy Zamenes – background vocals
OYSTER CHANTERS Drunkin crowd at Trevor Sewell’s shows – Northumbria University @ Newcastle, The Voodoo Cantina @ Darlington and The Burton House @ Burnopfield, Scott Fadynich, Ethan Sasz, Paul Chorney, Dolores Carl
El Cerrito Studio, El Cerrito, CA
WaveLab Recording Studio, Tucson, AZ
Philip Anderson – bass
Chris Burr – vihuela
Manny Celaya – violin
Angel Duran – classical guitar
Ramon Munoz – guitarron
Michael P. Nordberg – Electric Guitar Picker
Brian Phillips – percussion
Jesse Rojas – trumpet
Tommy Baker – bass, background vocals
Zach Biron – boy vocalist
Jeff Davison – hammond, background vocals
Alan Goodrich – drums
Alizon Lissance – accordion
Robert Jacobs, Elaina Vrattos Jacobs, Brook Meggs, Bedford Youth Performing Company
Arlan Feiles – keyboards, mix
Ed Roth – piano
Glen Spreen – string arrangements
Chris Tedesco – violin
Robert Xeno – recording engineer, co-producer





What a drag it is getting old?! That is an understatement.  I decided to cover Mother’s Little Helper on my album Emotional Jukebox, because, although I have a great deal of respect for Mick and Keith, I AM THE WOMAN IN THE FIRST PERSON feeling it! What does a 25 year old Mick Jagger know about getting old?!  I say, “Hah!”

But there is much more to the story, when it comes to the music video. I started filming as my mom was dying, a year ago…today. She was battling cancer, in and out of the hospital with pneumonia, which the doctors told us would eventually kill her. But she was hanging in there.

Then the heart attack came out of nowhere. Now she’s in ICU. (mid-Nov, 2014). But the doctors say she is going to pull through!! Dad and I were at the hospital every day, hanging with mom as she got stronger. They would take her for walks. We would spend at least 8 hours a day there. So I figured, what the hell, why don’t I take this opportunity to start filming Mother’s Little Helper? Mom would get a kick out of that. She was my biggest fan.

So I asked the nurse if she could get me one of those silly caps, and that plastic breathing mask. She hooked me up, and when mom was taking one of her walks, I jumped into her bed in ICU, and held the camera with one hand, as I filmed myself. Dad was in the room with me, giggling. We needed a little comic relief, I’ll tell you. (That was after I had jumped into an empty ambulance parked outside of the hospital! And roamed the halls with my camera, envisioning myself on a gurney being wheeled into ICU.)

I also envisioned a super hero come to save women with Valium! After all, the song is about Valium. Duh. That was all I had imagined for the video.

Then…my mother, put in rehab, for some fucked up reason, is diagnosed with…death. We bring her home from that excuse for a rehab facility, and hospice comes in. Now I need a valium.

We get her home on Thanksgiving Day. And she died sometime after midnight on that Sunday. We are coming up to the one year anniversary of losing Shirley Ruth Chorney, on December 1st. What a drag?

Afterwards, I went away with Scott for some much needed R&R. While visiting some friends, we discovered they lived with….hundreds of Galapagos Tortoises. My mom collected turtles made out of everything. Precious stones, ceramics, crystal, you name it. I asked if they would mind if I took some pictures with the tortoises. They said, sure! Then, I thought to myself, that very second, “Holy shit, what if I did some footage for Mother’s Little Helper with the tortoises?” Tortoises are the oldest living things on the planet, and mom loved them! My friends were kind enough to say, “Go for it!”

Scott shot, as I gently got to know these lovely creatures. They are remarkable.

Now all I have to do is fly through the air in my homemade super hero costume, with floating pills! How the heck do I do that? I call Harry Findysz, my great buddy who owns Southern Arizona Video Productions. He also filmed my music video, The Cantina.

I cut up a shirt, grabbed a bottle of Valium, and let the genius take over…(you will know I am being sarcastic, if you click on the vimeo link….) Here is an exclusive look behind the design factory, sunrise, morning of filming.


I just finished editing last night, and here is the video. Dad saw it, and cried, because of the sad memories at the end of Mom’s life. I, for some reason, feel closer to her when I watch it, because she was alive in those scenes. But I also feel her pain, and am reminded of all of the pills she had to take for her cancer. I miss you, Mom. I wish you could have seen this music video. I can hear your laugh now. And my new album coming out, will be the first one you won’t hear. What a drag.

And lastly, I’m just sharing the shrine I made for my Mom, out of some of the turtles she collected. The silver piano on top of the shrine, which sits on top of the piano that my mom gave me, contains some of my mom’s ashes. I use some of the charms from a bracelet of hers, including an Egyptian queen, because she will always be our queen.



P.S. Once again, it will be interesting to see how all of this time and effort and expense in putting together a new music video will pay off in anyway, other than a few thousand youtube hits. WHAT A DRAG.









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Linda Chorney

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February 2017
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