the clatter of keys

"the clatter of keys" has moved

2011-03-14T16:29:00.002-04:00

here's our new digs.....

http://theclatterofkeys.tumblr.com/

join us!!

35%

2011-03-14T15:35:00.002-04:00

this article first appeared here. and it was crafted with the help of my friends at the Future of Music Coalition.

The most important piece of furniture in the living room of my cabin in western Massachusetts isn't a comfy chair or functional table, it's a vintage radio and record player from the early 1920's. Almost as big as a modern refrigerator, it's a monument to a time when music had a physical presence that was hard to ignore. Next to it, you'll find my laptop and smart phone charging, taking a brief rest from their daily toil of communication, commerce, and yes, entertainment. Seeing them side-by-side reminds me that, while the core of what we love about music has remained constant through the years, the way we interact with it and its creators has changed dramatically.

Recently, President Obama made a bold commitment that can open up a new world of possibilities for musicians around the country. Speaking in Marquette, Mich., the president laid out a framework to ensure that 98 percent of Americans have access to the next generation of high-speed wireless broadband. His vision included a future in which young people no longer need to leave their hometowns to succeed because they are able to connect virtually with new education and business opportunities formerly only available in big cities.

This type of universal connection would not only transform our economic future, but also the future of music and our engagement with it. Along with dramatically increased exposure to new artists and sounds, high-speed Internet gives us unique and meaningful ways for us to deepen our connections with the acts we love.

As a recording artist, I'm dependent on the Internet for the basics of maintaining my career - everything from tour dates to record releases to my virtual storefront. For an independent musician like myself, the Internet is as essential as electricity. Artists make their home at the intersection of the old and new. When we create, we apply innovative ideas to transform tradition, making better sense of shared human experiences. Consistent high-speed access to the Internet is one of our most powerful instruments in this process.

Unfortunately, while many of us are reaping the benefits of this evolution, a staggering 35 percent of Americans don't have the high-speed Internet they need to participate. They are quite simply left out of the revolution.

I draw an incredible amount of inspiration from where I live. From the river that runs below my back porch to the quiet hills that surround my cabin in rural western Massachusetts, my surroundings are inseparable from what I write and perform. I wanted to find a way to share this experience with my fans and also tap into the artistic possibilities of the Internet.

In order to do this, I created an ongoing series of concerts called "Cabin Fever," broadcast live over the Internet from in and around my home. I like to characterize them as "Wayne's World" meets "The Judy Garland Show." These concerts allow me not only to share my surroundings but also share in what my fans are saying to me beyond the merchandise table and social networks, in an artistic format not limited by time or travel. The experience has offered the most inspiring work of my career and has brought home the incredible opportunities the Internet offers for connection, community and art.

That is why it is so important that we work to fulfill the commitment that President Obama laid out to bring high-speed wireless Internet to all corners of our country. Before wireless, those in rural communities like mine faced tremendous cost and infrastructure obstacles to getting connected. Today, access may be in reach of so many more Americans. As long as this access remains open and allows for direct participation, it could transform local economies and creative culture. In the same way that it makes my tiny rural cabin a concert venue of infinite size.

The time is now for this historic investment. We must urge Congress to support the President's call to ensure that every American has access to the economic, educational and artistic opportunities that universal access to high-speed wireless can create.

tears of a clown

2011-03-08T12:30:00.000-05:00

last night i watched a fantasic movie about bill withers, "still bill". besides his music being deep as all get out and more than standing the test of time, it was amazing to watch a man who is truly in touch with the humanity around him and his own feelings. and he is totally able to show it. or, really, he is unable to hide it, stuff it, or mask it like so much of "masculinity" demands.

the movie reminded me too of one of my favorite sports clips where then USC head-coach pete carroll (who got out before the shit hit the fan) brings in bill to speak to his team about the power of asking for help. i've probably seen the clip 10 times, and i cry every time.

on sunday miami heat coach erik spoelstra tweeted that some of his players were "crying in the locker room" after a season-series sweep of losses at the hands of the chicago bulls. it launched a monday morning debate about weakness, leadership, privacy in the locker room, and a coach's responsibility to protect his players.

so what if a basketball player was expressing himself after a loss, one that obviously mattered to him? why should emotional displays be limited to women? tears come from frustration, exhaustion, grief, anger, or joy. or any combination. or sometimes we dont even know why we're crying. those are my favorite tears.

when kevin garnett pounds his chest, screams to high heaven, then proceeds to dismantle his opponent, his intensity and display are lionized. tears are of the same coin, and whether it's bill withers or the miami heat, they show a whole, human man moving through the world. how exhausting must it be to maintain a masculine front, with so much going on inside?

ain't nothing neutral in how i feel

2011-02-18T00:44:00.002-05:00

it's late, here in grenada MS. i'm out on tour, and i'm just getting to the hotel after my 7th show in a row. 3 more to go before a day off monday in austin. so you can see why i have been behind a bit in my po-litical work. let's catch up....

there's some important net neutrality stuff happening this week. house republicans succeeded today in attaching an addendum to the upcoming spending bill that would block funding for the recently adopted FCC net neutrality principles. except now we call it "the open internet order" because the republicans have commandeered and poisoned the term "net neutrality". either way this is seriously important stuff. it directly affects how we will access information and how new applications and platforms are developed (and by whom). for a primer here. watch me talk about it here.

here's what i have been able to do this week, in between hauling gear, selling CDs, and driving our rented minivan through chicago, st louis, kansas city, oklahoma city, memphis and new orleans:

a letter to congress that myself and some other incredible artists have signed on to.

and a site that gives you 3 specific actions that you can take on this issue:

it's really easy to get involved. and the fight will continue on way past feb.17th.

green and yellow

2011-02-06T17:38:00.001-05:00

i just finished the latest version of my "Cabin Fever" webseries. episode 5 was "Songs About Sports". in it, i took wiz khalifa's "black and yellow", followed the lead of some awesome MCs (Prophetic & Pizzle, Lil Wayne) and did my own version for the green bay packers. go pack go!

you can watch the complete episode here.

lyrics below the vid, check em out, because i didnt get all of it right in the performance:

yeah, ah hah, you know what it is

everything i do, i do it big

3 feet of snow, that's nothing

western mass, keep on dumping

step into my cabin you know everything

green and yellow, green and yellow

cabin fever, we webcasting

green and yellow, green and yellow

2 teams, big game

1 quarterback droppin my name

hotter than the hottest flame

aaron rodgers spells it different

but we shine the same

i drop tracks like a quarterback drops back

tossing deep cuts off like a triple threat wild cat

not an athelete but still a player like that

green like the earth, yellow gold like money

the riches go to those who play as one, see

the politics of a non-profit corporation

i'm a citizen of a democratic packer nation

steel city's a dope place, yes

but i will never ever root for a rapist

the times, they are new orleans

2011-01-19T21:45:00.007-05:00

i've got a routine like anyone else in the northeast: work and snow. but i'm just getting back from breaking that routine and visiting a place that continues to be a touchpoint for every important conversation going on in our country.

i've been to new orleans now 8 times, 5 before and 3 after. i've been to play shows, to write, and to record an album. i've passed through with friends; i went once for a retreat with like-minded activist artists. this time i went for a novel purpose: vacation.

i did all the touristy things i never do. we rode the street cars. we ate at coop's, the camellia, and cafe du monde. we visited cemetaries and museums. we went to see brad pitt's houses he's building in the 9th ward. we walked and walked and walked. we stayed with friends. we slept alot. unconventional as it was as a "vacation" choice, we definitely got away from our own lives for a few days.

but new orleans has changed. it isnt the city i remembered from my last trip, taking small but firm steps toward recovery. or the city i had fixed in my mind from "before". it felt like an entirely different place.

perhaps it was the process of sharing it with someone who had never been there before that caused this feeling. perhaps it was my own life changing and shifting, such that i cant see a familiar place in the same way. this is, in fact, one of my favorite reasons to travel, re-read a book, or watch a movie again. how do we feel returning to the same place? it's usually that the place stays constant in its solid mass of buildings, streets, and natural contours, and thus we see the change in ourselves as we age and shift.

yet new orleans has changed in a way beyond what i know has changed in me. i dont know why this has surprised me so much. part of the magic of new orleans is that it has never been a place you could pin down or categorize. i have never been to any place like it, and at times, it can feel other-worldly. and when i say that it is a touchpoint for every important conversation going on in our country, consider what that means. economic recovery, urban renewal, arts economies, gun violence, race relations, gentrification, corruption, music, and politics- new orleans has something from experience to contribute to all these national dialogues.

but, for better or for worse, change in new orleans has always happened at a snail's pace. the government is notoriously slow, the erosion of the inner city has been like an acid river eating at the walls of a canyon, and the post-flood recovery has inched back. katrina was a sudden, but inevitable, cataclysm of water built on years and years of neglect, a man-made disaster fomenting for decades.

yet something has moved too fast now in new orleans. i think it is two-part.

first, i recognized some familiar signs that i have seen elsewhere traveling the country these last two years. vacant store-fronts sit next to vacant store-fronts. "for sale" signs emblazon house after house. there are more people lining up for services and fewer people on the streets outside their houses. in a time of foreclosures, unemployment, and isolation, the recession has left its inimitable mark here, as elsewhere.

secondly, there is a new tension in parts of the city. before going, a friend had warned us to be careful:

"new orleans isnt safe," she said, referring to some recent gun violence, sexual assaults, and a warehouse fire that claimed the lives of several young people. the underlying fear in her statement was that new orleans wasnt safe for white people.

i hate these kind of statements: alarmist on the surface, masking many more complicated factors underneath. rather than keeping any one person safe, they only make everyone more mistrustful and on edge. many people unconsciously conflate race and class, expressing class tension by perpetuating racial fears. this kind of thinking isn't new to new orleans, either. the tension that poverty brings has been a defining factor there for a long time.

we stayed in a neighborhood called the bywater, a place i have called home every time i have visited new orleans. the bywater is technically part of the 9th ward, but as its particular mix and motion became more pronounced, it acquired its own neighborhood designation. the bywater has been slowly gentrifying for the last 20 years. again the emphasis is on slowly.

so what was different this visit was this: a neighborhood that was for a long time a unique and vibrant mix of race, class, and occupation, has been suddenly infested by young white street kids. and it is not just in the bywater. it's in treme, the 7th ward, the upper 9th. here is an article from the times-picayune that came out while we were there. it explains who these kids are, but it also, rather predictably, leaves out a real exploration of the tensions they are causing.

this has happened fast.
and it's highly visible.
and it makes me so sad.
and it makes me uncomfortable.
and it makes me examine myself and my motives for being in new orleans. what am i contributing to the city as i visit each time- as a tourist or for work? when i walk around new orleans, am i afraid? if so, why? and why do i feel so sad about "new orleans being new orleans", that this dynamic city has changed again and will continue to change?

new orleans interrupts a lot of easy narratives with the hard facts of its reality. we saw this interruption on a global scale after katrina, a third world city made visible, a blight on the mythic narrative of our first world self-image (our dirty secret: in america, many many people- disproportionately of color- live in systemic poverty). in that same way, visiting new orleans interrupts my own easy narratives of a city where diversity exists without tension, where the grand unifier of music colors the landscape with a rose colored lens, where i can just pop in with my white-ness and economic mobility, soaking in the "real-ness" as i get inspired. and then i leave, back to my own comfortable, functional life. i'm trying to take responsibility for myself here. i'm trying to notice my own privelege, predilictions, and fantasies.

and then, i get mad.

no, crust punks, you dont get to just drop in with your dogs, jeans as tights, and thick framed glasses. somebody used to live in that abandoned house you're squatting in. ever wonder why they're gone?

reading rainbow- 2010 wrap up edition

2010-12-30T21:03:00.007-05:00

it's been too long since i took the time to write a blog. i am always so full of ideas, and less full of execution. who out there in the tubes can relate?

i do want to remind regular readers that i spent a substantial portion of my fall blogging over here as part of my "distillation 10th anniversary tour". if you missed it, you can still catch up and grab lots of free music downloads.

i usually try to do some kind of year end wrap-up on the blog. 2010 was a highly varied year for me... i began it with a grueling super DIY european tour (read: lots of trains, dragging around lots of stuff), and i ended it with the "distillation" anniversary project. in between i acted in a play for the first time, joined a softball team (though i had never played before), and went on tour to alaska. for a "down" year in an album cycle, i was incredibly busy.

2011 looks to be more of the same. i wonder if this is the new shape of "making" it in the music industry? we put even more irons in the fire, more pots on the stove, start more and more income streams. however, you want to put it, creative people in 2011 are going to be doing many more little things to add up to what the one big thing used to be. that suits my restless nature just fine. more on that as we get into 2011.

meanwhile, i thought the 2010 wrap up would be some thoughts on my favorite books i read this year. i've included links to more info about them, but please consider asking your local bookseller first before you buy online.

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers
tells the story of a small business owner who stays in new orleans as the katrina floodwaters rise. i could not put this book down. i have been to new orleans many times, and i have seen and heard firsthand what happened during the flood, but this book makes a page turner out of real-life. which just made me angrier than ever about the aftermath of katrina.

Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris
we liked it. we really did. in spite of ourselves and our best efforts otherwise, this book gnawed at that desperate place we all try to ignore, the place that says our cubicle is the best we can hope for. and so we told people about this book. we had to. we wanted to share that something that we couldnt name that made this book so good- not only to make sure we weren't left out of important book conversations, but really because in the end, we are all incredibly lonely.

Decoded by JAY-Z
ok, so i'm not totally finished with this one. it just came in the mail the other week, but i've been super into it. i'm not a JAY-Z fan. something in there hasnt connected for me. i'm still not, even though i hands-down love this book. i feel queasy when i read about JAY's constant devotion to capitalism (or entrepreneurship- depending on your politics). i think the exposition of lyrics is borderline pretentious. but i appreciate the honesty and the vignettes of day-to-day life leading to unique observations of humans.

State by State ed. by Matt Weiland and Sean Wilsey
what a great companion on my travels this year. i tried to read the relevant entries as i went to each place! 50 essays from non-travel writers... and each has a different connection to the state: tourist, native, moved there for a job, spent time there as a kid, never predictable. in the same way i was reminded of why i like "friday night lights" so much. you know there is gonna be a football game, but sometimes it happens early in the episode, or later, in part or whole, or sometimes it's just referred to: anticipated or in the afterglow.

Floodlines by Jordan Flaherty
i heard jordan speak at an event and had to buy his book after. it's a great history of new orleans, activism in the city, and ways that community has responded to the katrina flood. it also documents how the resistance community formed in new orleans post-katrina has impacted other social justice work outside of NOLA.

The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac by FreeDarko
is it cheating that my favorite book of the year is more graphic novel than wordy read? no! not when you love sports as much as i do! i got hipped to this book through an article on the freedarko blog that described rajan rondo as a shark. not in the usual "he's gonna kill you" way, but in this way that took into account a modern sense of dislocation, exacerbated by technology, and the unique emotional wallop of good sports story. the almanac breaks down the games of the top current NBA players via schematic diagrams, charts, and whimsicle illustrations. did i ever mention i want to start a second career as a sportswriter?

and as a bonus (just for you) i'll share my first book of 2011: Preaching with Sacred Fire: An Anthology of African American Sermons 1750-Present. i got it for christmas from somebody who knows exactly how to make my heart melt.

the fight for net neutrality

2010-12-15T21:13:00.005-05:00

if you've been following the news lately (or me for awhile), you'll know that on 21st DEC the FCC will be ruling on "net neutrality" (the ability to access legal, online content without interference, gate-keeping, or tolls from your internet service provider). i've worked on this issue for some time, from my cabin fever series to my latest "distillation anniversary webcast" this fall from chicago.

my friends at future of music coalition have posted this clear wishlist for the homestretch of this fight. check it out here.

and i thought i would take a sec and post the comments i submitted last spring to the FCC in support of clear net neutrality rules:

Comments submitted to Federal Communications Commission in support of Net Neutrality. Spring 2010.

Hello, FCC! My name is Erin McKeown, and I have been a professional musician, writer and producer for the last 14 years. I'm 32 and currently live in rural western Massachusetts, but my career has taken me all over the world, playing an estimated 200 gigs per year.

In those 14 years, I have recorded ten albums and 3 EPs for a variety of labels. I began on my own, releasing my music via the internet and touring while I was still an undergrad at Brown University. From there, I signed to a small independent label, Signature Sounds in 1999, a mini-major, Nettwerk, in 2002, and I am currently with the indie label Righteous Babe Records. Along the way, I have performed on "Late Night with Conan O’ Brien,” "Later with Jools Holland” and have been featured in theLondon Times, the New York Times, People Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, on NPR and many other fine radio stations at home and abroad.

As an independent artist with a committed fanbase, the internet is the engine that powers my career. I use it to disseminate information to my fans (tour dates, record releases, etc.), maintain a virtual storefront for my music and other merchandise, and interact with fans via my blog, social networks, and my youtube channel. I communicate with my support team — agent, manager, label, etc. — mainly via the internet and use my website both publicly and privately to present new work, move large files, and facilitate business transactions. I have almost 2,000 Twitter followers, more than 3,500 Facebook fans and an email list of over 20,000. To me, this represents the power of an independent artist to reach audiences across multiple platforms, all made possible by the internet.

This summer, I used the internet for a very specific project in support of my latest album. “Cabin Fever” was a series of "house concerts" that allowed me to continue to connect with fans, offset my recording debt and contribute to a broader conversation about how the internet fits into our daily lives. For the series, we broadcast live over the web from my house in rural western Massachusetts. Fans could subscribe to the series or purchase individual episodes to watch live or later on-demand. In passing the “virtual hat,” I connected to the longstanding tradition of communities coming together to support art. Each concert had a specific theme and location: my living room, my porch, my river and my front yard. Fans could chat with each other as they watched and even send in requests. In his keynote speech at the 2009 Future of Music Policy Summit, FCC Chairman Genachowski highlighted my "Cabin Fever" series as one of the most creative ways that musicians were pushing the boundaries of the internet for communication, commerce, and creativity.

I began my career in 1996, right as the internet was becoming widely available and affordable. My career has never existed apart from this technology, and I often feel that the internet and I have gone through some growing pains together. For as much as the internet has made communication with fans easier, self-promotion easier, access to music and video easier, it has also created an extremely crowded marketplace. As a 21st-century artist, it is a greater challenge to find and retain a mass audience than perhaps my predecessors experienced. That said, I now have more tools, direct access to my fans, and many more creative options to express myself via the internet than ever before. And I don’t need to depend on outside entities to determine how and when I communicate with audiences.

As a copyright owner and someone who makes a substantial portion of their income from record sales, the rise of illegal filesharing via the internet has had a direct and detrimental affect on my bottom line. However, I view with great dismay some of the tactics that ISPs, record labels, and copyright owners employ to disproportionately punish illegal downloaders. I believe we should shift the debate and resources away from punishing and policing and more toward the question of “how can we make being a creative person a viable vocation?” I do not think illegal downloading of content can be currently mitigated in any way that doesn’t impact privacy, fair use and the lawful exchange of material — audio, or otherwise. Future policy should not be guided by punitive or restrictive approaches, but rather by answering a basic question: does the policy inhibit expression and the cultural/economic potential of creative people?

Another important point to consider is access. For me, it’s a twofold question: how do I get online at home and how do I get online when traveling? At home, I currently use DSL bundled with my phone. My other ISP options would be cable or satellite. But do not own a TV, so DSL was the most affordable and appropriate option. However, in making that decision, I did not have any choice as to a DSL provider. I have regularly experienced issues with the quality of my connection, and, living in a rural area, resolution of these problems has been slow. I know people just a few miles down my road who still don’t have access to high-speed internet at all. There is also no wireless coverage where I live. I don’t think that a creative person or any other entrepreneur should be forced to relocate simply because they lack a connection to such a vital communications platform.

My life on the road is a different story. Internet access when traveling is a must. So much of my business requires constant communication that I’ve become my own office, and I require connectivity at all times. I choose to use an iPhone with a data package which has been extremely helpful, otherwise I end up at the mercy of a hotel that often charges charge me $25/day for slow internet (and even more for better speeds). Only in emergencies will I pay that much for internet, and even then it seems overpriced. For moving large files and activities like updating my website, I often find myself hoping that a venue will have a free wireless network that I can connect to. If I cant find anything else I will find a cafe, but it is not my preference.

Moving forward, it is vital that we expand broadband internet access to as many people as possible, regardless of location and socioeconomic status. As more of the world functions “virtually,” we run the risk of leaving behind vast segments of our own society. We should spend the money now, lest we end up spending lots more down the road. Why create a digital underclass when we have the option not to?

I also believe that net neutrality principles should apply to the wireless space. A different and perhaps conflicting set of rules for those two platforms would only result in more ways for companies to take advantage of consumers. I am suspicious of the argument that net neutrality would somehow "inhibit competition"— as I see it, there’s not a lot of competition to begin with. Net neutrality rules would be necessary and positive provisions that would encourage innovation and protect consumers (and creators’) right to expression.

I often think of "access" on the internet as equivalent to "speech" in the Constitution. Where we can freely access the internet, where we can speak freely, read freely, educate ourselves and others without interference, we engage in the same democratic process that inspired the vibrant and diverse country in which we live. The internet as it was conceived is a democratic place, allowing equal access to information.

Unfortunately, this isn’t always the case in practice. Just as not everyone in this country gets a fair shake, not everyone has the same level of access to the internet. But if it can’t be a truly free marketplace of ideas, then at least we should know what the rules are. An internet user is a consumer of information, and as such should be afforded the same protections and level of transparency that we’d expect to be placed on any other product. Net neutrality rules would be a major step forward in guaranteeing that all users — creators, innovators, small businesses and regular citizens — have the means to compete in a legitimate marketplace that isn’t slanted to favor only the powerful players.

As the internet continues to grow and evolve, I thank you for your efforts to maintain its openness and transparency.

the final inning + last free download

2010-11-23T20:52:00.003-05:00

the last download of this project is a live version of “the little cowboy” from our show on 8 OCT in Portland ME. it features the awesome slide playing of “distillation” producer dave chalfant. thanks to everyone who came out to the shows, watched the webcast, and took home some anniversary schwag!

as i wrap up the anniversary project, i’ve been thinking that being a musician is a little like being a professional athelete. if you’re in a band, you’re like a baseball team; if you’re me, you’re like a tennis player. but check this out:

in many of the same ways, the business of sports and the music industry reward youth. travel and performance are physically demanding, especially over a long period of time. you ride an emotional rollercoaster, getting yourself up every night for a game or a gig, and riding your adreneline until you crash- in victory or defeat. only to do it again the next day, in the next town. from the outside, the life appears glamorous, but behind the scenes the work of practice is hard and the down time is often incredibly boring. both demand endless self-promotion and an ego of a certain size and toughness to weather the grueling work and inevitable rejections.

older atheletes will tell you that what they lose in flexibility, speed, or stamina, they make up for with experience, wisdom, and wiles developed over seasons. the same is true with music. my listening skills only get deeper the older i get. my writing continues to hone itself of its own accord through repetition. what my hands can no longer do, i’m learning to do with my voice. the pleasure of music, the nuance in the art, is only growing deeper and more apparent to me.

doug glanville, a former pro baseball player, wrote a fabulous blog last year for the new york times. one of his entries described the end of an athlete’s playing career. as a certain pitcher said it, you never stop loving playing the game, you stop loving preparing to play the game.

when i read that, my heart leapt. i feel exactly the same way, and like in so many other ways in my life, sports is able to articulate something i couldnt otherwise put my finger on.

in the past few years, i’ve been building an identity and community outside the music industry. one that is more consistent and not based on someone else’s approval. i have a community that cares for me whether i have 2000 twitter followers or none, whether i have a new album or not. i’ve worked so hard for so long in an all-consuming business, that i didnt know the toll it was taking on my body or my spiritual life. now that i have slowed down, it’s painfully obvious to me.

i’m not gonna stop playing music. i can’t. it’s how i think, how i express myself, where i find joy and creative fufillment. i absolutely love getting to meet all the folks who have supported my music for so long. but in many ways, my playing days are done. the “distillation” anniversary project has allowed me to see that and to celebrate the hard work i’ve put in so far. i say that from a place of acceptance and excitement about what my future holds.

as i sit here this november, looking ahead to 2011, i’ve got an awful lot on my plate. i’m starting to write a new record. i’ll be heading to a few more conferences this year to share and connect with inspiring minds of all sorts. i’m going to put more time into my acting. i’m going to start a production studio. i want to do a bike tour and collaborate with some new artists. and, who knows, maybe i’ll go into coaching.

go west, young man + free download

2010-11-03T20:55:00.003-04:00

as i head to the west coast, this week’s download is “love in 2 parts”, which ends the album “distillation” and opens the anniversary shows. it is most definitely one song and describes a relationship i was in that was… shall we say, manic. it also mentions the incredible burden of rent in the bay area!

…………….

looking back on the early years of my career, i’m surprised at the kind of travel craziness i used to sign up for. i routinely hopped planes, cars, and buses in the same day- early in the morning, long after gigs, and often carrying obscene amounts of gear by my lonesome.

from the very beginning of my career, it’s been important to me to play as far and wide as possible. so even before it was financially feasible or responsible, i was trooping off to the west coast or overseas. i have always just wanted to be out there, beyond the friendly confines (and perceptions) of the northeast US.

so, in this dire economic climate, and even more dire music industry epoch, i’m heading out to the west coast to bring the “distillation anniversary tour” to Oregon, Washington, and California. my shoestring budget and creative travel decisions are reminding me of the first tour i ever did on the west coast, in the summer of 1998.

at the time, i had just finished my second year of college, and i was on my way to that rite of passage known as “time off”. but before i settled in for a fall of finding myself, i decided to play on the west coast. i had a few friends in LA who helped me get my first gig- at a place called “fais dodo”. i made calls and sent packages and eventually hooked up enough gigs to get me to seattle.

even though i was 21, i somehow was able to rent a car, which i gigged out of all the way up the coast. i remember stopping for a few days in san luis obispo, where the gig came with a night at the local hostel. then it was on to san francisco (first gigs: a berkelely house concert, then the bearded lady). from san francisco, i ditched my rental and got on a greyhound bus heading north. i stopped for a gig in redding, before hitting eugene and portland. i stuck around for a few days with friends in portland then headed up to olympia, seattle, and bellingham, again by bus.

i met alot of musicians like myself- hungry, happy, making it work somehow. i crashed with friends and did a lot of walking. and i carried everything i needed in a frame pack, including a tiny guitar amp. i brought one guitar and rolled a cardboard box of cassettes along behind me, strapped to a folding cart.

i felt exhilarated, playing for 20, sometimes 25 people. i wasnt tired. sometimes, i was scared, especially when i had a lot of time to kill and no place to hang my hat. i kind of marvel looking back on it now. how did i know what to do? how did it all work out so well?

philly works!

2010-10-18T20:57:00.001-04:00

philly works. it’s that simple. my experience as a musician playing in the city of brotherly love has been the model of what’s supposed to happen, when it’s supposed to happen, how it’s supposed to happen.

early on, i got hooked up with my friend jesse lundy, who was promoting with the awesome rich kardon at the point. they believed in me when i was still a wee pup figuring out my show. they set me up in little coffeehouses and opening for bigger acts in places like the TLA, until i graduated to my own shows at the point.

one of my favorite stories ever as a musician began one night at the point. i had heard susan werner at a folk festival in the summer of 1998. she blew my mind. i began to study her records and shows like a med student cramming for boards. i found out that she lived near the point, and through friends, had contacted her to invite her to a show i was playing there that fall. i put her name on the guest list that night, and after the show, i scanned the buzzing crowd hopefully, looking for her. i didnt see her, and felt disappointed that she had somehow missed the show.

about a week later, i went to my PO box in providence and found an envelope with a mainline return address. it was a typewritten note from susan werner! she had seen my show, but slipped out when the lights came on. she was so complementary and supportive and funny and tough, too. getting that letter was one of the sweetest moments of my young artistic life.

a few months later, i got the opportunity to open for susan at another special philly spot, the tin angel. it was the first of many nights on that fabulous, tiny stage. i got to watch a master work that room, and i took in every detail. 12 years later, susan is one of my closest friends, and our relationship has evolved way past my hero-worship.

just like new york, it was radio that changed everything for me in philly. bruce warren at WXPN and david dye at world cafe took a shine to “blackbirds”. they played my music, put me on their festivals, gave me so many fantastic opportunities to get in front of their loyal listeners. i’ll be forever grateful.

10 years later, i wouldnt be able to still be going strong without the belief and support of stations like WXPN. neither commercial, nor public, the listener supported model of radio is flexible, local, and responsive and grows relationships between artists and listeners.

from great promoters, to artistic heroes, to loyal radio support, philly has always been there for me. thanks philly!!

WFUV and Making It in the Cit-tay

2010-10-11T20:58:00.001-04:00

this week’s download is “la petite mort” (or “the oh estelle” song), from the original versionof Distillation. it tells the story of a wedding day gone wrong!

……

i went to school in providence RI, a medium-sized city with a gritty arts scene and a surrealist bent to its public art. living in a city was a new experience for me. i had grown up in a small town in virginia, and, at the time, it was far enough away from DC to feel like its own entity. today, with the swell of cookie cutter housing developments, it’s harder to make that argument.

i started my career in high school, and by the fall of my freshman year in providence, i was in full swing. i didnt have a car, but i could “tour” by taking the bus to boston, or northampton, philly, or… new york. i’d been to the City a few times as a kid, and then later to visit some older high school friends. but starting to play there seemed daunting.

what i remember most is how often i went. multiple times a month. and i also remember playing a lot for free or for tips plus a modest guarantee. there was that epic night in brooklyn with my friend trina hamlin where i took my shirt off during my set in an effort to get people to shut up and listen. there were many nights on the matchbox sized stage at postcrypt, under columbia. and a little later there were many nights at the old living room, on the corner of stanton and allen. i would be one of 5 acts that night, slowly getting more and more people to pay attention. i also dipped my toe into the sacred waters of the bottom line, opening for anyone they asked me to.

everything changed for me in new york when “distillation” came out. “blackbirds” marked my entry onto radio playlists for the first time. and for the first time i began to see how powerful radio could be. what radio did in a few months would have taken me years to get to on my own.

so i feel incredibly grateful that “blackbirds” caught the ear of my friend rita houston and WFUV. in new york, if you’re listening to songwriters, you are listening to WFUV. over the years, they’ve cultivated one of the coolest, most loyal, and fun audiences i have ever played for.

i remember one night, at the old knitting factory on ludlow. it was my first real headlining show at a proper venue in new york. i had my band, and one of my favorite songwriters, veda hille, was on the bill with me. standing center stage in a quiet moment, i was able to take a second and appreciate what i saw before me. to a packed crowd on the floor, and the people filling the little balcony, i said, “thanks FUV for playing my music!” the roar that greeted me was tremendous.

10 years later, celebrating “distillation” at the highline ballroom, i’m so happy to also celebrate my relationship with FUV. they’ve grown with me and continued to support my music through all it’s own left turns. the music business is a complicated and delicate tightrope walk, but i thank FUV for taking the risks with me.

light up the series of tubes + be a virtual audience member + free download of “queen of quiet”

2010-09-28T21:00:00.002-04:00

this week’s download is “queen of quiet (fancy radio mix)” – a remix from an EP of the same title. the original song appeared as the first track on “distillation”

……….

last summer, i had an idea: why not broadcast over the internet a series of concerts from my rural cabin and use them as a fundraiser for my next album? cabin fever seemed like a pretty simple and clever way to raise money and give listeners a unique experience.

turns out i loved webcasting. i got to interact with listeners in a new and intimate way. i got to act like a TV presenter or old-fashioned master of ceremonies. i got to bring in amazing friends as special guests. i got to create a visual style to match my music. i also got to solve audio and other technical problems. i love figuring out how to make things work!

i’ve been wanting to do another webcast and the “distillation anniversary tour” is an awesome opportunity to continue exploring how we can all use the internet for new creative purposes.

so, on oct 20, 9p EST, you can tune in and watch one of the “distillation anniversary tour” shows, live from chicago’s lincoln hall. like cabin fever, this webcast will be super interactive. there’ll be a chat window and twitter feed, and you’ll be able to request songs for the second set (remember, the first set will be distillation in its entirety).

but i also wanted to step up the visual experience. this time, there will be 3 cameras, a video montage made up of clips you send in, and we’ll be pulling in live feeds from fans all over the world. plus you’re going to get to hang with me backstage during the setbreak. in a few months, we’re going to offer an HD archive version that will have all kinds of extra footage. i even get to write a theme song and the bumps that will take us in and out of setbreaks.

to help me up the ante, i’ve partnered with web.illish.us, multidisciplinary design studio that produces live webcast experiences. it’s run by a fire-cracker of a woman, dejha ti. i met dejha last year at the future of music policy summit. we quickly recognized in each other kindred artistic and political souls.

dejha’s company and i are sharing the investment and splitting an equal profit from the webcast. we are sharing the risk and the reward in order to build a longer term relationship. i could have easily employed web.illish.us and funded the webcast myself. or, like many artists, i could have found corporate sponsorship for my event. partnering with web.illish.us is not only a choice to support and develop with a company i believe in, it also affords us creative tools not limited by my budget.

if you’re still reading this far, thank you! this webcast also fits into important work that i’ve been doing around maintaining a free and open internet. i’ve long been a public supporter of net neutrality. here’s a quick primer, but basically it describes a free and open internet absent of gatekeepers and artificial bottlenecks of service or access.

i have made deliberate choices in my career to maintain an honest and open relationship with listeners and to give them new and exciting music that is affordable. i have partnered with companies that i believe in and worked with people i trust. my webcasts are an extension of this philosophy. thus in the current climate of media monoliths and invisible hands, i see webcasts from independant artists as radical tools.

ever notice how when a company like american express sponsors a web event, it doesn’t cost anything? but think for a moment. do you really think it’s free? by allowing american express to brand and pay the overhead for a webconcert (whether the artist receives a fee or not), that artist has essentially sold their fanbase to american express. this sets up a disturbing trend. only artists with large financial (read: corporate) backing are able to offer these “free” experiences. just like in the old fashioned music industry, this has very real creative implications for the “have-nots”, those of us not on major labels or associated with other media conglomerates.

your webcast ticket price is going to myself and dejha, two women who are building relationships and companies that are outside the mainstream. in turn, we’re giving that money to the venue, lincoln hall, who is hosting us. to the crew who is filming. to the band that is playing. to cover our gas, our flights, our cameras and guitars. do the math and you’ll guess correctly that we’re not turning a profit or selling your attention to another company. your $8 means more than watching a webcast, it is a vote for a responsible, transparent, and creative experience. web.illish.us and i want you to be there!

download of “easy baby” + remembering my first gig at passim

2010-09-17T21:02:00.001-04:00

this week’s download is “easy baby”- recorded from the stage of club passim, cambridge MA on 7 december, 1997 and broadcast live on boston’s WERS. it’s part of “small deviant things, vol.1 1997-99″, my handmade archival series.

……..

in exactly a week, i’ll be heading over to boston to do a radio appearance on WERS and play a gig at club passim as part of the Anniversary tour. i feel incredibly lucky that my first time on the famous passim stage was broadcast live and documented for posterity. i can guarantee that on that cold sunday afternoon in 1997 i was not imagining what it would be like to play at passim 12 years later, i was just thrilled for the gig.

at the time, i was in my sophomore year of college in providence. i’d been seriously playing out for about 2 years. i’d made my first demo cassette (anybody out there have a copy?), and i was running my career myself. i spent a lot of time sending out packages and calling folks asking for gigs. passim was like the promised land; it was a real venue in a real city. i’d just played my first real new york gig at the postcrypt, was a regular already at northampton’s fire and water, but i hadn’t cracked boston or the venerable passim. i couldn’t even get my calls returned.

sunday afternoons, passim did a writers-in-the-round showcase and ERS broadcast it live. as i remember it, an old friend of mine, the songwriter andrew calhoun, called and mentioned that another artist (i’ve since forgotten who) had cancelled at the last minute. could i get up to passim in time to take her place in the round?

i remember being so concerned about whether i “belonged” in this historic home of folk music that i made a joke about it onstage. i wondered whether using my wah-pedal was sacrilege in that space. i was definitely overcompensating to prove i belonged no matter how adventurous my sound, because i actually hate wah-pedals and cant remember ever using one again.

so i slipped in through passim’s back door, literally and figuratively. in the years since, i have played numerous times on the campfire weekends and have settled into a yearly visit of 2 or 3 or 4 shows. not counting the times i have sat in with friends, it’s added up to many many appearances on that tiny stage.

right alongside the iron horse in northampton, the tin angel in philly, and cafe du nord in san francisco, passim has been the site of some pretty incredible moments for me. i’ve debuted songs there, completely flopped there, gotten standing ovations, and been surprised by what’s come out of my mouth (anyone remember my dream about theo epstein?). bringing “distillation” back to a stage where it was first welcomed is going to be a real treat.

Asheville NC + the story of the dress

2010-09-07T21:04:00.001-04:00

it’s finally here! today i head to asheville NC to start the “distillation” anniversary tour. i’ll be performing the record in sequence for the first time, solo, for an intimate audience in a tiny theater. pressure? i’ll let you know.

i don’t remember the first time i played asheville, but i know i’ve been going there regularly since “distillation” came out, and it’s a town i have always felt at home in. i wanted the anniversary tour to stop in towns where i’ve built my best and biggest audiences, so asheville is a great place to kick off.

…

a couple weeks ago, an odd question popped into my mind. when was the last time i put on the dress i wore on the cover of my first record? hmmm, not since the photo shoot, 10 years ago. and then i wondered, does it still fit? i rummaged around my house until i found it again, in a box under a box at the bottom of a pile of sartorial bits saved from all points in my 32 years.

i’ve been planning the “distillation 10th anniversary” for a couple months now, but it wasnt until i tried putting on the dress that the anniversary became real. looking at myself in the mirror, wearing what had been so 2-dimensionally familiar for so many years, i suddenly felt like i stepped right back into the record cover.

10 years ago, i ran out the door of my loft apartment in providence, late for a photo shoot with my friend pam murray. i ran into my building-mate, beth, in the stairwell.

“do you want to borrow anything for your shoot?” she asked.

i had a few pieces of clothing, a tape deck that looked like an old radio, and my friend keith’s cowboy hat in my hand. other than that, i didn’t have much of a vision for my record cover.

“sure, got anything good?” i said.

i stood in the door of her apartment as she rummaged around.

“you want this dress? it doesn’t fit me.”

“sure.”

“you want some stockings? though they might be too fancy.”

“sure.”

“how about my banjo?”

“i don’t play banjo, but sure.”

during the shoot, pam and i used every single thing i brought, in different combinations. pam had a giant green chair in her studio, and the dress, with its little pattern of green and blue flowers looked good against it. i put on the stockings beth thought might be too fancy, and, all stretched out, they kept falling below my knees.

“oh well,” i thought, “it’s a look.”

of all the things i might remember about what turned out to be an iconic and successful shoot, what i remember most is that i had bought my first tube of lipstick at CVS so i’d look professional. i’d never worn, let alone bought, lipstick before. without realizing, i bought a garish and unnatural pink. i remember crouching in front of a reflective surface and gamely smearing some on while pam set up her lights.

“distillation” was my first attempt at a lot of things. recording an album. designing its look. embarking on this new life as a professional musician. putting on lipstick for the first time.

what you don’t know can’t possibly hurt you. in fact, regarding “distillation”, i’d say that what you don’t know would only get in the way.

Rachel Maddow and I Write a Song Via Text

2010-09-06T21:02:00.006-04:00

yes, it's true. maddow, an old friend from the 413, made time in her busy schedule and corresponded with me via text on the subjects of the gulf, oil, iraq, and the ways everything is all connected. i took our conversation, wrapped it up in a slow second line, and called it a song. my new friends barkuna backed me up, and we debuted it in the low-pressure confines of The Town Hall, NYC. all of this to benefit the American Bird Conservancy. watch how it turned out below. the lyrics as they were written (but maybe not sung) are below that:

from baghdad to the bayou
in the desert or plaquemines
for every gallon of oil drilled
we wanna know where the payoff is
in the strip mines or the lower 9th
fallujah to la fourche
for every gallon of oil spilled
we're gonna organize for truth

who is watching the watcher?
whose hand is in the pie?
who is reaping profits
on the back of our coastline?
for every feather oiled
for every katrina refugee
for ever soldier in harm's way
we want accountability

"Distillation" 10th Anniversary Project + Tour

2010-09-01T15:47:00.003-04:00

this week, i'm kicking off my "Distillation" 10th Anniversary Project + Tour. i have plenty o fun things planned (including a tour where i will recreate the album). watch the trailer and visit the "Distillation" Micro-Site for a free download of the original version of "Blackbirds". PASS IT ON!!

cast

2010-06-02T14:50:00.007-04:00

all photos by kristin angel. copywrite 2010 the august company.

i've been keeping a secret these last three months.

no, i'm not pregnant.
no, i'm not ill.

no, my secret is, i've become an actor. like a baby found in a cave and then raised by wolves as one of their own, i joined the august company, a local theater ensemble, and acted in their latest show.

ever since i was a kid, i've dreamt about being in plays. i never dreamt about being a musician; it was just something that happened along the way. growing up, i suffered paralyzing stage fright that kept me from performance camp or community theater. it was ordeal enough to play a concert in the middle school band or the smallest piece in my yearly piano recital.

my senior year in high school, i bit the bullet and took Drama I. every day on the way to third period, i would take a quick detour into the girls room and throw up a little. i was wrecked with fear and anxiety. people in my family did NOT draw attention to themselves. and god forbid, if they were recognized for anything, that they might enjoy the spotlight. in my dreams, i easily broke this unspoken rule. in real life, it was much harder.

my theater teacher must have seen something in me that i couldn't see because she cast me in our one act play festival entry, and later as an evil stepsister in the senior class production of "cinderella" (worst musical ever)(why couldn't they have done "annie get your gun"? i would have nailed that sucker).

i began to slowly get over my anxiety about being on stage. playing music helped. for some reason, it was easier for me to stand up in front of an audience alone and sing a song i wrote about my deepest feelings, than it was to dress up in costume and pretend to be someone else.

in the intervening 14 years, i've spent the better part of my days on stage. i love it and routinely do things up there that surprise even me. the transformation from scaredy-cat to entertainer is still a mystery to me.

so imagine my horror to find, as i drove to my first read through this march, that i was full-on nervous. it had been years since i had gotten nervous for anything. not even playing solo to 10,000 people or being on late-nite TV. yet there i was with a gnawing pit in my stomach, my mouth getting drier by the second.

i thought i conquered this! i thought being in a play would be no big deal, that the hardest part was finding time in my schedule. apparently, i was back at square one with fear and anxiety.

over the last three months, i've experienced a crazy train of emotions. my first rehearsals were exercises in anxiety management. i'd wake up in the morning and have to trick myself into eating (crossword puzzles help). once i got to rehearsal, i'd feel my body- which has always been a reliable extension of my voice and musicality- betray me. i'd feel frozen and small, when i wanted to be warm and big.

my therapist offered me some choices:

THERAPIST
you could quit.

ME
no, i cant, these are my friends. and i'd be letting so many people down.

THERAPIST
if you fell down the stairs and broke your legs, you would have to quit, so...

ME
no, i cant quit.

THERAPIST
ok, then think about this. what kind of grade are you trying to get in this play?

oh, right. i am always trying to do things best. my ego works that way. it always has. sometimes it's made me crazy successful, sometimes it's been downright crippling. but in that instant, i was able to deflate and understand i was a student in a generous and soft classroom. no one was expecting me or needing me to be spectacular. i exhaled, and that's when things started to change.

about halfway through the rehearsal process, it became clear that the company needed some help with the music they wanted to do for the show: a cover of a righteous everly brothers tune, "gone", and an a capella adaptation of the traditional "wind and rain". it was no big deal for me to jump in and help make those moments musical. in fact, it reminded me that even if i was new or inexperienced or just plain paralyzed by this acting thing, i could contribute to the company and help make this show great.

something started to loosen in me. i stopped trying to high jump my limits, and i started to simply walk up to them. i accepted that i only had as much experience as i had, and that it was a long time ago. i let go of trying to compare what i thought i knew from being a musician, and i asked for help.

my fear retreated to a manageable level. by the time we got to running the whole show, i was simply busy. first i sang and played guitar, then i moved some set pieces around, provided an offstage line. Next i was on stage for a tiny monologue, a two-hander, an ensemble scene, then sang another song. and then it was over.

i have rarely felt so satisfied in a creative situation. to get to use all my skills in a 90 minute show was a complete joy. and i did find a few things that my musical experience helped with: second shows are always looser (ie, better); dont forget to warm up; "hurry up and wait" is an art to itself.

and now, about those wolves. i spend so much creative time alone. i write alone, travel alone, more often than not, perform alone. to get to share the love and the work of putting on an evening of entertainment was a revolution for me. and to be accepted by folks who are much much better at this thing called acting was the ultimate complement. it was like finding a big ole circus family that needed my particular act and fitting right in.

we musicians are a wierd bunch, but the story we tell is that actors are even wierder. they throw great parties, but otherwise they're just freaky. i think i understand why now.

being onstage is like getting really really high. honestly, it is the best high ever, and i have tried a few. like any good drug, once you've tasted it, you spend the rest of your life chasing down that first feeling. a favorite phrase of mine about drinking illustrates this:

"a martini is the closest thing to a spiritual experience, that isnt."

which is to say that we humans are really looking for something greater than ourselves, something outside our quotidian perspective and experience. drugs help, but ultimately fall short. i think the thing that happens between an audience and a performer comes even closer. to give a good show or to see a good show is to breathe a special air for a few moments. it charges us, inspires us, leaves us different.

as a musician i have experienced this high and found its release to be part of the show too. the physical act of playing an instrument or singing, somehow helps me not to get overwhelmed with this energy. i exhaust myself even as i rev myself up. like a good joint, time slows down and softens. then you come down, then you do it again the next day, ad infinitum. yet, as an actor, i found myself flying high in a new way, like doing lines of coke or way way way too much coffee. it built slowly over months of rehearsal, and reached a frenzy in a too-short run of 4 shows. i had trouble finding a way to release that electricity. what could i do with myself to come down?

cast party.

and so i found myself on saturday night packed elbow to elbow in a crowded kitchen. the music was loud, the people were boisterous, and i was bouncing around amongst it all like a happy pinball. the sweet tea sloshed about in my plastic cup as i hugged and thanked and laughed with a roomful of new friends.

and guess what? it's no surprise to this kid, but i want to do it again, and again, and again.

the august company cast for "gone":
pam victor, mark teffer, claire kavanah, kelsey flynn, amy koske, liesel de boor, rachel braidman, julian olf, scott braidman, sheila siragusa, kerry strayer, steve angel, dennis quinn

the drinking clock

2010-02-12T12:04:00.004-05:00

howdy web deizens! i am spending a day in my house for the first time in... well since ireland, uk, italy, france, pennsylvania, ohio, indiana, and michigan. whew!

last night i played a benefit for haiti at UMASS-amherst. i got to sing with the young@heart chorus, hang with my old friend martin sexton, listen to lenelle moise's amazing new poem about michael jackson, and meet an ambitious young acapella group, sonos.

i also saw the following tucked in a corner of the fine arts center prop shop. i stared at it for awhile, wondering exactly how this won-drous machine could possibly work. then i wondered if it was a joke. what do you think???

the thaw

2010-01-09T23:14:00.005-05:00

i was writing about dancing yesterday. it's been on my mind lately, how i use my body to react to music. sometimes i get frustrated that i have an instrument hanging on my neck so often. my favorite moments on stage are ones where i can put down whatever it is i am holding and move unfettered.

i wrapped up cultureweek2010 last night with a night of dancing to new orleans bands. perhaps because the APAP conference is this week, the musical offerings this weekend were vast. a new friend from new orleans was here in town, so i tagged along while she went around visiting her hometown bands.

after an amazing ethiopian dinner at meskerem, we started at sullivan hall. john ellis, paul sanchez, jason marsalis, and christian scott all took the stage in some form or other. there was tuba, trumpet, harmonica, vibes, and more, all mixing it up. it was early in the evening, and the crowd was moving like they needed more drinks. me too. i hadnt been to a club to just dance in awhile. you have to dance to new orleans music, but it took me a second to get going.

by the time we transfered to the bitter end to see rosie ledet, things had changed. i was feeling looser, and so were the hundred plus people packed into that tiny club.
i played at the bitter end once in 1997. i met one of my oldest friends that night, and duncan sheik tried to buy my $5 cassette with a $100 bill. i just gave him the cassette. wonder if he even remembers?

so we danced and danced to rosie as she played traditional zydeco music. more than once, i stopped dancing to think, this reminds me of afrobeat. both musics are primarly for dancing. they have simple forms. percussion and drone are key components. the washboard and the shekere clatter underneath the music and form a constant backbone. and the music just goes and goes. every song must have been at least 6 or 7 minutes. i really have no idea exactly because i danced until i got sweaty, which was a fantastic feeling in the middle of january.

i hate the way my body feels this time of year. and i hate the way my body feels when i dont get to loosen up and let go with music like rosie's. it took me a week, but i eventually warmed up and thawed out.

just.fucking.dance.

2010-01-08T22:15:00.008-05:00

every time i set about writing today, i find myself distracted. i was never the kid who put off writing the paper. i was the cranker who turned it out in one sitting two or three days ahead of time and then coasted into the due date. i dont want to think about my blog as homework, but i am starting to feel that way. i felt the same way the other day when i had to write up a set of comments on net neutrality and my internet usage for the FCC. i kept finding reasons not to write. why? am i really that obstinate these days that any whiff of assignment, even self-imposed, results in intractibility? (by the way, you too can file comments with the FCC. instructions here, due on jan14th)

someone either here or on FB recommended the museum of art and design (thank you!), which has an especially attractive pay-what-you-wish thursday option. i went last night with my friend moose, a gifted producer and composer. we each paid $10 and saw a fabulous exhibit of paper sculpture.

both "paper" and "sculpture" were terms taken loosely by the curators. the show featured so many interpretations of that intersection, it was mind boggling. can you really do that with paper? i kept asking myself over and over. the advent of the laser certainly helped. many of the most detailed sculptures were made using high-tech cutting technology. but as a whole, paper as a material seemed to inspire the very basic aesthetic of accumulation. monstrous stacks were laser cut or lathed; tiny cuts on yards of paper added up to vast scenes; a multitude of quaker oats boxes stretched from floor to ceiling; minuscule paper rolls became a table top size floral mosaic.

here's my favorite, Jane South's Wall:

after grabbing a quick bite in columbus circle with moose, i headed downtown to meet the swede, an old old friend and mentor. the swede has recently been hired to write a broadway musical. what an assignment! i dont even know where you would begin, but if anyone can do it, the swede can.

i feel honored that the swede has shared a little of her process with me, and it's led to some really good conversations on the how and why of musical theater. we were talking last week about how broadway musicals sometimes try to manufacture emotion (or something with the appearance of emotion) via musically complicated songs and flashy stage craft. i've observed that i connect emotionally with music via rhythm. if it doesnt have some type of motion and depth rhythmically, i'm not engaged. this set the swede's mind turning. if this were true for more people than me (which i think it is, whether people are aware of it or not), how can this come to benefit a broadway show?

so the swede is here in NY now doing a version of her own culture week, taking notes on other musicals. she managed to get some tickets to the new musical "Fela!" and invited me to come along. i didnt know too much about the show, but i certainly knew that we'd get plenty of rhythm.

"Fela!" tells the story of the afrobeat pioneer and political agitator fela kuti. it's unusual as modern musicals go- there is no dialogue and there arent any scene changes. all the action takes place on the stage of fela's club "the shrine", and the only spoken words are by fela himself. the music is primarily pre-existing fela songs, with a few new bits thrown in for continuity and plot (warning: this musical has no plot, and i didnt care).

i have always loved afrobeat, specifically the drumming and the horns. you can hear both the influences of afrobeat (funk, jazz, hi-life, cuban) and what it has gone on to influence (modern funk and hip-hop, rock, and beyond). in some ways, afrobeat is a linchpin in 20th century music, everything rotates around it. does anyone agree, disagree?

the music of fela survives broadway-ification surprisingly intact. part of that is because core members of antibalas, the brooklyn based modern afrobeat collective, are the house band. and somehow, the simple explanatory style of fela's music lends itself extraordinarily well to the broad gestures of big-time broadway. broadway composers tie themselves in knots trying and failing to write songs that have as much clarity and emotion as fela's music.

broadway lends itself so well to spectacle because it's the one form that marries dance and song inextricably. most purely musical performance doesnt feature movement and most dance performance either works with musical forms besides song or breaks apart the song form with gestures. it was invigorating to see music that i love simply reacted to. it was not re-contextualized, not broken apart, not re-interpreted. the dancers moved as you would have thought they should, feeding on the inherent elements of the music and amplifying them physically without commenting on them. perhaps that sounds like a missed opportunity, but i think it's actually the more entertaining and emotionally engaging choice. if the music makes you want to dance, then just. fucking. dance.

if you can find a way to see "fela!" you must. it absolutely blew me away- eye candy and ear candy and heart candy.

elevate, escalate, remember

2010-01-07T15:04:00.009-05:00

i got home last night from a friend's birthday party in the far away land of the Upper West Side, and was too tired to type. a contributing factor i am sure was the pounds of italian food i ate at gennaro. squid-blackened risotto, kale salad, truffle salad, more gnocchi, octopus salad, fettuchini bolognase, then mousse, flan, and tiramisu. happy birthday jane!

i finished up "zeitoun" the other night, tearing through the 4th segment of the book like a mad-woman. i needed to know what happened more than i needed to sleep. i love books like that, even though they make my head ache from all that reading and leave me short of breath from all that excitement. i am contemplating a move to new orleans, and a book like "zeitoun" mostly makes me want to live there. i have always wanted to be a part of the type of community that has formed there. although there is a part of me that is consistently horrified by every new story i hear about katrina-related atrocities, i also wonder if an event like the flood has to define a city forever. i suppose like any place, there's gonna be ups and downs, and new orleans just happened to have had a very very famous down. i need to think more on this.

so instead of reading last night, i decided to watch a film. the first one i saw on the shelf was "ladysmith black mambazo: on tip toe". i could do a whole entry on this documentary. maybe i will when i dont have too many other things to get to in this one. like most people, i heard of LBM when i saw them with paul simon on SNL back in 1985. "graceland" had just come out, and paul simon was BIG. i was too young to catch any of the debates swirling around the record (politics, expoitation) and i still havent resolved my feelings on all that (and i have a damn ethnomusicology degree).

what i remembered about that performance then is what also struck me last night watching this film. i am so taken with the substance of joseph shabalala's music- its subjects of god and hope, it's harmonic form, and the choreography. something about the dance language that LBM employs always catches me. i love the synchronicity, i love the small movements in time broken by bigger athletic gestures, the freeze-frame posturing and then the supple way the pose is broken.

the movie traces the history and influences of the isicathamiya style of singing and gives a brief timeline of the group. watching it, i couldnt help but think about another movie, paris is burning, about a similiar way that dance, fashion, and performance competition fufill a distinct social function in a culture. can someone with more time compare and contrast these two films? i know wont get to it until the spring, and i think there's something really rich there.

my big cultureweek2010 adventure yesterday was to go to the guggenheim with my friend Z, a wondrously talented musician, writer, and painter. she's got an eye and a mouth on her, all the better to view and provide running commentary.

the exhibit in the main hall of the guggenheim was a kandinsky retrospective. one of the first artists to be collected by the guggenheims, the show worked its way in a roughly chronological manner as you walked up and up and up toward the top of the rotunda.

i didnt know much about kandinsky, but it didnt matter because i like any experience of visual art. i especially like to see where someone's biography intersects their output. perhaps it is not fair to wonder where someone was living, who they were sleeping with, what they were listening to, what were they were reading might have affected their creativity (god knows i get cranky when people do it to me), but i find myself hungry to have that information as i look at a person's collected work.

i dont have all that much to say about kandinsky's actual art, but that i liked where it arrived by the time he died. as he closed in on his earthly end, he had discovered bio-morphic forms and pastel colors. picture ernst haeckel meeting bed bath and beyond, which is surprisingly engaging.

i'd never been to the guggenheim before and was completely stunned and overwhelmed by the space. i have rarely been in architecture that inspires such a physical reaction (see my entry ages ago on the jewish museum in berlin). but as i walked up and up and up into the museum, my heart raced, my head spun, and my mood shifted from calm and grounded, to ethereal and floating. i almost wanted it to stop because i felt like at any moment i would teeter over and fall... where?

one of the gifts of the space too is looking down through the spiral and catching glimpses of work that you saw a few minutes earlier. the feeling is a physical translation of memory. with distance, you see something differently. with distance, you can see a lot of things at once. because of the spiral, you walk a few more feet and look again, and some things that were near are now further, and vice versa. here's a pic i took from the top before the security guard made me stop.

speaking of memory, my favorite piece of art in the whole museum (and perhaps my favorite thing i have experienced all week) was anish kapoor's installation "memory". i wish i had written down my thoughts on seeing it before i watched this little movie about it, because the curator and the artist of course explain it more eloquently than i can, but i will say the following:

i was struck by the size of the object, and its relatively organic feel despite being made of giant steel plates bolted together. it was as though a big construction crane had laid a quivering steel egg in the too small room at the museum.

Z and i approached it from the outside on two different sides before we saw what the artist called the "aperature". approaching it, from a room filled with picasso and gaugin, i thought it was a modern rothko-type painting- a giant 2-D canvas that explored the color black. but as i got closer, i realized i was looking into a giant void, and that void was the interior of the sculpture. i took my glasses off, as if that would help; i stepped closer and further, nothing helped me make sense of what i was seeing. slowly, as my eyes got used to the darkness i could begin to discern the curved steel walls receding into an interior that was too big and too far away for definition.

thank you Art for the way you can disorient and dislodge my day-to-day.

intermission

2010-01-05T23:29:00.002-05:00

i spent the day stuck in front of my computer and on the phone dealing with Real Life. no worries, after a day of nose to the digital grindstone, i think i got done almost everything i needed.

i did go out to dinner in manhatten at frankies 17. there is one in brooklyn too. amazing italian food. we had beets and meatballs with raisins and tiramisu and cheesecake.

i was joined by my friend, the irish director jimmy fay. he's got a new sam shepard play opening at the atlantic next week. i'm not going to get to see it until later in its run, but it promises to be, as they say, a corker. jimmy is one of the smartest, deepest guys i know, and that's from only hearing about half of what comes out in his crooked irishman's accent. imagine if i understood everything he said.

translations from the good book

2010-01-04T22:33:00.005-05:00

i woke up today feeling hungover and tired from all the stuff i have been pouring into my days. besides my cultural diet, i am also gorging on old friends and long catch-ups. so i took today easy, kind of.

when my friend c.Love and i had coffee this morning, i asked her if she was doing anything interesting tonight.

"yes, trans, dolly, gospel."

that's really all i heard, because i got so excited by what she was describing.

"stop," i said."i want to be surprised."

so i ended up tonight at joe's pub in manhatten seeing an incredible transwoman perform the gospel-oriented repertoire of dolly parton, complete with 7 piece band and choir.

it's so rare that i see something i knew nothing about ahead of time, and i think it's a major contributor to being blown away. i dare say, that only the first time or the hundreth time you see a performer, it has the potential for real transcendance.

our lady J got me tonight. she re-arranged and re-contextualized songs like "the grass is blue", "traveling", "two doors down", "9-5", "the seeker", "i will always love you", combining hits and more obscure tracks, switching between secular and non-secular music. not only was she a killer piano player and arranger, she had 4 costume changes! i was taking notes.

listening to song after song, i was also struck by the depth of the writing. that was the real brilliance of the show for me and what makes dolly parton such a rich vein to mine for comment. not only does she write with humor and flair and craft, she also writes from a deeply spiritual place that anyone can connect to. it's tempting to love dolly parton ironically, for her exagerated appearance, for her gaudy production values, for all her shiny country sheen, but that's all sequins to make people buy things. only later do we consumers realize there is the heart of a true artist beating underneath the costume.

it's really important to me that we make a space in our culture for people who don't fit in narrow boxes, who would rather make their own categories. people like dolly parton. or our lady j. and that's how i think of myself, for sure. the category of erin. i am especially attracted to those who push at the gender spectrum, who shade it with finer and finer grades. when you combine that with good old fashioned show biz, then i'm a goner.

the spirituality of subtraction

2010-01-04T14:42:00.009-05:00

what happens when we take things away? i've been thinking a lot about that recently. perhaps part of it is because of the new year, and many resolutions involve giving something up. but i am thinking of subtraction as something even more fundamental and lasting than a new years diet. what happens when we abstain? what happens when we set limits for ourselves around consumption and accumulation?

i dont drink, smoke, or take drugs anymore. the subtraction of these items from my life has been miraculous. everything has shifted for me- my relationships to people, places, and things especially food, sex, and god. i am closer, clearer, and more present for all three. it's been a beautiful and i hope permanent shift.

i have always been a house purger. every once in awhile, i comb through my place and get rid of things. mostly clothes and shoes i no longer wear. but also music and books. i try to keep only what i need. i have three plates, a few glasses, 2 pots, and just enough cutlery. i find that when i want something i used to have or i need, i like looking at why i wanted it in the first place.

some of my subtractions are temporary. i like to give up meat every once in awhile. it gives my wallet a break and my intestines too. i feel lighter somehow. and then when i pick the meat back up, i feel my muscles rejoice at the new fuel. i also like to fast. i usually do a seasonal cleanse of some sort. it's great for me to think about my relationship with food and get a big old re-set by shifting that around regularly.

i saw two shows yesterday that seemed to fit in with my current thoughts on subtraction. the first was "wishful drinking", carrie fisher's one woman broadway show about her life. based on her memoir of the same name (which i listened to in the van on tour), she hilariously recounts her family history, her mental illness, and her addiction and recovery. i always find it inspiring when people share their addiction memories, though it's a very fine line to walk between engaging and off-putting. the writing in "wishful drinking" is so bulletproof and flawless, that it makes the very question of "is this naval-gazing self-centered bull?" completely irrelevent. see it or read it, now.

one of the things that carrie fisher regularly subtracts from herself is her memory. as a treatment for bi-polar disorder, she undergoes ECT, a modern version of shock therapy. one consequence is she often loses her short term memory (about 4 months of it). as she says, anything important that happened in the last 4 months will probably happen in the next 4 months too. for her, the trade-off is worth it.

i like this idea. i hold on to too much in my brain that i dont need. i am wondering how i can let go of more that i hold on to. in the same way i like to change my perspective on food or material posessions by subtraction, what can i let go of emotionally to live more in the moment? that's the question, right?

there is a song by one of my favorite bands, the bad plus, called "silence is the question". in my current thinking about subtraction, silence is the answer too. the space between notes, the quiet parts of the day. what happens when we remove the clatter?

after carrie fisher, i went to see the bad plus at the village vanguard. i'd never been to this historic club, as much as i have heard and loved plenty of recordings made there. i went with another musician, and we sat right up close, about 3 feet from the drum kit.

the bad plus- pianist ethan iverson, bassist reid anderson, and drummer dave king- create by deconstruction. or really, thats too kind a word. they create by exploding songs and letting the pieces fall where they may. sometimes the deconstruction is so sly that you guffaw out loud when you realize what they've done. other times, its so raw and volatile that you can only sit back and be overwhelmed by it.

the set last night was a mix a cheek and bombast, though leaning more heavily toward physical cascades of overlapping explosions. this most obviously manifests itself in the drumming of dave king, who gave a virtual clinic on the dissolution of beats and drum kits as we know them. however, occasionally, and for me, most importantly, silence became the question, and the trio deconstructed by placing big hunks of silence where there once was chaos. in those spaces, where king makes his kit sound like it is coming through your next-door-neighbors wall, where reid simply breathes and occasionaly plays a note, and iverson goes two finger, there is that shift of perspective that leads me to clarity. i feel the fast, the abstinence, and the clearing of my memory.