1.29.2004
toasty in tremont
Goddamn. I am sure am dying over here. I could swear I've got the bloody heat cranked up, and it doesn't make a whit of difference. I'm also fiending to get out--I'm like a dog, truly, just hankerin' to be let loose off his leash--but the abominable cold reminds me that maybe it wasn' t such a bad idea to stay indoors.
It's been mad-nutty-crazy here at the 2109. I feel like I've been practically sleeping on the couch at the Beachland, what with the spate of big shows (my 12 hour day with the Rickie Lee Jones gig comes to mind) and small instances of filling in the blanks whenever the need arises. I asked my friend Jeff-O about what my title should be there, and he said, "intergration specialist". I rather like that: i've gotten to be that guy who fills in the blanks. After all my years of botching job after job, it's nice to come to a place where I feel wanted and useful. At any rate, given all the big-hearted whackos and weirdos who hang out at the club, I don't feel like my slight incompetencies are any big risk!
Another reason I'm staying in: next week's a big 'un. Tuesday I embark on my first-ever performance with those avant-rock-jazz-improv gurus and dear pals of mine, Vernacular. Man, it's been years since I've slung the bass in such a setting. Not since the days of little side projects like Hoobajoob (which was members of my old bands Viva Caramel and Proletarian Art Threat, helped out by saxman Alex Henry) and UHM (which was me, Jeff-O, and Cleveland's wild genius Sean Carney, whose presence is missed very much in town), have I come close to anything like Vernacular. For many years, such music wasn't my thing, but now that I'm in bands where form and structure are part and parcel of the music, it's refreshing to actually be able to cut loose and simply rely on my ears and my fingers. Playing free stuff is an intense experience--it's such a physically and mentally demanding act, like yoga or working out. Whereas I like to think of rock as more of a struggle. I should amend that: playing with CV is more like a halloween dance party, New Lou Reeds are like a casual in-house basement jam session, and Hook Boy is quite a bit more formal; think stage band or some such. Vernacular will be a great new addition to my experiences, I hope, and to top it all off, I'm going to be playing with Brian Straw. Not only is he a friend, but he's someone I musically and personally respect very highly. I sure do hope folks come out--i s'pose it's going to be time for a mass-mailing/press release of some kind to plug the gig, though it is rather late in the game for media coverage.
The night after the Vernacular gig, I'm going back to Edison's with the New Lou Reeds for a repeat performance of our "acclaimed" Thanksgiving show. I do hope things work out and that we can return frequently. The vibes were good there last time, to be sure. There's a lot to be done in NLRsville: now that we have the CDs, we need to fire them off for review, try to generate a little bit of dough for ads online and in print, book shows, write songs, record...it's a daunting task, but I'm up for it. Likewise with Cobra Verde. Aside from our crazy February, we're going to see how the "Riot Industry" video fares on the airwaves, deal with the tentatively titled covers record "Save the Song, Kill the Singer", and hopefully start working on a new record. All this, and hopefully some springtime touring, too. Hook Boy is laying back and regrouping for what we hope to be a constructive spring/summer; Mike's been sending out his disc and hoping that people will bite. He'll be playing more solo gigs in the meantime.
As you can see, it's been quite a bit to take on. Yeah, staying home was the right thing to do tonight. I've been stuck in shoptalk mode for the last several weeks. Booking, PR, practices, all that jive. I'm in a locked groove, a room without a door, and since it's horrible outside, I don't have much impetus to go a-strolling in order to get my mind off the various battles I've got to fight. I suppose the alternative is to finish up the books I've started (namely, one on the French Revolution that I've barely cracked), go see some flicks (for some reason it's hard for me to get around to that), work out (which I've been really remiss about), and hang out at places where the rock n' rollers don't go. Unfortunately, that means time and money, and at this stage in the game, it doesn't seem so judicious to go blowing either one.
I will, however, most likely be at the Odeon in late February, when the Free Times Music Awards come down like a comedic rubber hammer on the town of Cleveland. In yet what seems to me patently absurd, I've been nominated "best bass player". Less absurd is Cobra Verde's presence as "best hard rock band" and our man Tim Parnin as "best guitarist". I think that these awards are absolutely cockamamie, mind you. And not a little embarassing. I was actually very much out of the loop when my name went to print in the Free Times; it wasn't 'til a gal I know from my days at that rag--Courtney Baker, who handles the entire awards deal--emailed me at work and said, "how can we get you to go? Ron [ex-coworker and bandmate for numerous years] said you wouldn't show up." The thought in fact had crossed my mind that I'd find something better to do other than stand around, drink bad beer, and be all snarky about the very existence of a "best" in a podunky village like ours.
However, the following things happened: my beloved Ma and Pa saw the nomination, and were elated. It was as if I'd once again become legitimized. They're so excited for me, I can't even think of being cynical and jaded. If it makes them happy and proud to see me grab that silly ol' hunk of metal, tin, and plastic that I'm assuming the FT Award is made of, I can do that for 'em.
The other revelation I experienced was running into a friend of mine who's a photographer of note in town, who complained to me that "too many people know me. There's nowhere I can go by myself, and that's just annoying!" This person had a point--when one achieves even the slightest modicum of success (loosely-defined), people will in fact hound you with questions and praise. After a while, you want to forget about everything you've done or will be doing and you want to just close the door in order to simply be, hanging out in your house or apartment without exhibiting an ounce of interest in the mountains of junk that have become your life and that have threatened to overrun you like weeds in an unkempt yard.
But I said to my friend, "Well, at least people notice and they obviously care what you--or people like you and I--do. And I suppose if it makes them feel better and feel a part of something greater, then it can't be too bad, can it?" I was shocked at the New Agey blather I was spouting, though it was the only way I could articulate an idea of gratitude and thankfulness strong enough to diluate the cynical, jaded--and maybe even selfish-- idea behind my friend's original comment. I was shocked that I sounded like Linus of Peanuts fame, always acting the sage with some concise truism. Where was my blanket?
Of course, this person kept on complaining. So much for introspection. Nevertheless, I'm going to go to the goofy awards ceremony, which I'll view as the equivalent of the Christmas parties so many of us have experienced through our jobs--lightweight, inoffensive, tongue-in-cheek attempts at recognizing a great idea while obviously acknowledging the tired trappings and shopworn holiday sensibilities. On Awards night, we're all going to be taking it easy, drinking, laughing, and generally realizing that it's all a disposable goof.
It's been mad-nutty-crazy here at the 2109. I feel like I've been practically sleeping on the couch at the Beachland, what with the spate of big shows (my 12 hour day with the Rickie Lee Jones gig comes to mind) and small instances of filling in the blanks whenever the need arises. I asked my friend Jeff-O about what my title should be there, and he said, "intergration specialist". I rather like that: i've gotten to be that guy who fills in the blanks. After all my years of botching job after job, it's nice to come to a place where I feel wanted and useful. At any rate, given all the big-hearted whackos and weirdos who hang out at the club, I don't feel like my slight incompetencies are any big risk!
Another reason I'm staying in: next week's a big 'un. Tuesday I embark on my first-ever performance with those avant-rock-jazz-improv gurus and dear pals of mine, Vernacular. Man, it's been years since I've slung the bass in such a setting. Not since the days of little side projects like Hoobajoob (which was members of my old bands Viva Caramel and Proletarian Art Threat, helped out by saxman Alex Henry) and UHM (which was me, Jeff-O, and Cleveland's wild genius Sean Carney, whose presence is missed very much in town), have I come close to anything like Vernacular. For many years, such music wasn't my thing, but now that I'm in bands where form and structure are part and parcel of the music, it's refreshing to actually be able to cut loose and simply rely on my ears and my fingers. Playing free stuff is an intense experience--it's such a physically and mentally demanding act, like yoga or working out. Whereas I like to think of rock as more of a struggle. I should amend that: playing with CV is more like a halloween dance party, New Lou Reeds are like a casual in-house basement jam session, and Hook Boy is quite a bit more formal; think stage band or some such. Vernacular will be a great new addition to my experiences, I hope, and to top it all off, I'm going to be playing with Brian Straw. Not only is he a friend, but he's someone I musically and personally respect very highly. I sure do hope folks come out--i s'pose it's going to be time for a mass-mailing/press release of some kind to plug the gig, though it is rather late in the game for media coverage.
The night after the Vernacular gig, I'm going back to Edison's with the New Lou Reeds for a repeat performance of our "acclaimed" Thanksgiving show. I do hope things work out and that we can return frequently. The vibes were good there last time, to be sure. There's a lot to be done in NLRsville: now that we have the CDs, we need to fire them off for review, try to generate a little bit of dough for ads online and in print, book shows, write songs, record...it's a daunting task, but I'm up for it. Likewise with Cobra Verde. Aside from our crazy February, we're going to see how the "Riot Industry" video fares on the airwaves, deal with the tentatively titled covers record "Save the Song, Kill the Singer", and hopefully start working on a new record. All this, and hopefully some springtime touring, too. Hook Boy is laying back and regrouping for what we hope to be a constructive spring/summer; Mike's been sending out his disc and hoping that people will bite. He'll be playing more solo gigs in the meantime.
As you can see, it's been quite a bit to take on. Yeah, staying home was the right thing to do tonight. I've been stuck in shoptalk mode for the last several weeks. Booking, PR, practices, all that jive. I'm in a locked groove, a room without a door, and since it's horrible outside, I don't have much impetus to go a-strolling in order to get my mind off the various battles I've got to fight. I suppose the alternative is to finish up the books I've started (namely, one on the French Revolution that I've barely cracked), go see some flicks (for some reason it's hard for me to get around to that), work out (which I've been really remiss about), and hang out at places where the rock n' rollers don't go. Unfortunately, that means time and money, and at this stage in the game, it doesn't seem so judicious to go blowing either one.
I will, however, most likely be at the Odeon in late February, when the Free Times Music Awards come down like a comedic rubber hammer on the town of Cleveland. In yet what seems to me patently absurd, I've been nominated "best bass player". Less absurd is Cobra Verde's presence as "best hard rock band" and our man Tim Parnin as "best guitarist". I think that these awards are absolutely cockamamie, mind you. And not a little embarassing. I was actually very much out of the loop when my name went to print in the Free Times; it wasn't 'til a gal I know from my days at that rag--Courtney Baker, who handles the entire awards deal--emailed me at work and said, "how can we get you to go? Ron [ex-coworker and bandmate for numerous years] said you wouldn't show up." The thought in fact had crossed my mind that I'd find something better to do other than stand around, drink bad beer, and be all snarky about the very existence of a "best" in a podunky village like ours.
However, the following things happened: my beloved Ma and Pa saw the nomination, and were elated. It was as if I'd once again become legitimized. They're so excited for me, I can't even think of being cynical and jaded. If it makes them happy and proud to see me grab that silly ol' hunk of metal, tin, and plastic that I'm assuming the FT Award is made of, I can do that for 'em.
The other revelation I experienced was running into a friend of mine who's a photographer of note in town, who complained to me that "too many people know me. There's nowhere I can go by myself, and that's just annoying!" This person had a point--when one achieves even the slightest modicum of success (loosely-defined), people will in fact hound you with questions and praise. After a while, you want to forget about everything you've done or will be doing and you want to just close the door in order to simply be, hanging out in your house or apartment without exhibiting an ounce of interest in the mountains of junk that have become your life and that have threatened to overrun you like weeds in an unkempt yard.
But I said to my friend, "Well, at least people notice and they obviously care what you--or people like you and I--do. And I suppose if it makes them feel better and feel a part of something greater, then it can't be too bad, can it?" I was shocked at the New Agey blather I was spouting, though it was the only way I could articulate an idea of gratitude and thankfulness strong enough to diluate the cynical, jaded--and maybe even selfish-- idea behind my friend's original comment. I was shocked that I sounded like Linus of Peanuts fame, always acting the sage with some concise truism. Where was my blanket?
Of course, this person kept on complaining. So much for introspection. Nevertheless, I'm going to go to the goofy awards ceremony, which I'll view as the equivalent of the Christmas parties so many of us have experienced through our jobs--lightweight, inoffensive, tongue-in-cheek attempts at recognizing a great idea while obviously acknowledging the tired trappings and shopworn holiday sensibilities. On Awards night, we're all going to be taking it easy, drinking, laughing, and generally realizing that it's all a disposable goof.
1.25.2004
"you've got mail!"
Well, hell, ya'll. Seems like I haven't seen any of you in quite a while! Hoo! Lemme dust myself off and get de-iced....
In short order: Hook Boy and the New Lou Reeds played two fine shows this week; HB opened for April March in front of a mellowly enthusiastic wine-sipping audience, while the NLRs got last night's spot opening for our friend Carol and her band, the Tough and Lovely, as well as Detroit's raunch-queens the Demolition Doll Rods. Both nights, the boys and I were pretty relaxed, despite the fact that prior to the April March show I'd had "A Very Bad Day", and was ridiculously tired; and with the NLRs, we took tempos and feel down a notch, which was probably something the drink n' dance crowd wasn't really in the mood for. Alas. Overall, reactions veered toward the positive.
Allegedly, Hook Boy is taking a break due our needlessly convoluted schedules. However, we all like playing with one another so much that we can't possibly stay away. It looks like we may be regrouping soon to craft, brainstorm, drink beers, and play some fun, laid-back music. The future's wide-open on this one.
Meanwhile, things are going gangbusters with the New Lou Reeds. We're doing a longer set at Edison's, Feb 5, and then a late-night WCSB set on my friend Eric's show on Feb 13. If anything, we'll be getting a bonafide recording of new songs that Stephe's cooked up since the first record. As this all happens, we're gonna do press mailings, practice more, and take care of what I like to call housekeeping issues. Color me psyched!
As you may have read before, February is Cobra Verde month. Ooh, clawd have mercy! I'm gonna be rockin' myself silly. And, in a late-breaking development, I may be playing with my good pals Vernacular on the avant-rock tip at Spy (of all places! I'd better polish up my debit card and wash my dope threads). That gig will be happening Feb 4th, and I think that if I keep my fingers crossed extra hard, Brian Straw may be playing along as well.
Nope. It don't get no better, folks.
In short order: Hook Boy and the New Lou Reeds played two fine shows this week; HB opened for April March in front of a mellowly enthusiastic wine-sipping audience, while the NLRs got last night's spot opening for our friend Carol and her band, the Tough and Lovely, as well as Detroit's raunch-queens the Demolition Doll Rods. Both nights, the boys and I were pretty relaxed, despite the fact that prior to the April March show I'd had "A Very Bad Day", and was ridiculously tired; and with the NLRs, we took tempos and feel down a notch, which was probably something the drink n' dance crowd wasn't really in the mood for. Alas. Overall, reactions veered toward the positive.
Allegedly, Hook Boy is taking a break due our needlessly convoluted schedules. However, we all like playing with one another so much that we can't possibly stay away. It looks like we may be regrouping soon to craft, brainstorm, drink beers, and play some fun, laid-back music. The future's wide-open on this one.
Meanwhile, things are going gangbusters with the New Lou Reeds. We're doing a longer set at Edison's, Feb 5, and then a late-night WCSB set on my friend Eric's show on Feb 13. If anything, we'll be getting a bonafide recording of new songs that Stephe's cooked up since the first record. As this all happens, we're gonna do press mailings, practice more, and take care of what I like to call housekeeping issues. Color me psyched!
As you may have read before, February is Cobra Verde month. Ooh, clawd have mercy! I'm gonna be rockin' myself silly. And, in a late-breaking development, I may be playing with my good pals Vernacular on the avant-rock tip at Spy (of all places! I'd better polish up my debit card and wash my dope threads). That gig will be happening Feb 4th, and I think that if I keep my fingers crossed extra hard, Brian Straw may be playing along as well.
Nope. It don't get no better, folks.
