4.07.2004
jump you bastard (s)
I can't believe that over the last few days I've smoked a pack of menthol cigarettes called "Caribbean Chill" that smelled like rank toxic candy. What am I thinking? What are they selling? This morning it's back to good old Camels, though I suspect my lungs and my wallet would really love to return to 'rollies', i.e. hand-rolled smokes. They're fun and the tobacco feels good. I recall that when in Argentina, I didn't smoke that much and felt considerably better. Then again, the weather was in the 70s-80s, I was walking what seemed like miles every day, I slept a lot (siestas are a goodness), and I wasn't working. I'd like to reiterate that it was warm. Here in CLE we've been experiencing a warm snap in the 50s. Whether this trend lasts through the weekend is anyone's guess.
I awoke this morning sooner than I thought I would and with considerably less difficulty than expected. The three glasses of wine served by the lovely Hannah at Duck Island Club last night felt as if they should have done me in. Lord knows that with the company I was keeping--Lawrence Daniel Caswell on turntable, vocals, and conversation (left side), and Erin Elizabeth Phillips on conversation (right side) and liqueurs--I should have been a big sloppy mess. I exercised control, however, and stuck to my budget.
Erin and I talked about our sad neglect of the written (and read) word. I came to an understanding of Bobby Womack's "If You Think You're Lonely Now"--in vino veritas! Earlier that day I'd listened to a two-song comp that Brian Straw has been passing out in preparation for a string of Cleveland dates as well as some touring with one of his muses of inspiration Shannon Wright. The songs are, I believe, "Absent", and "Bleeding Sun", one of which might be with the Six Parts Seven backing him up. I'll remember when I check the disc out at work. Matt Wascovich is either out in Europe or touring with his friend, experimental turntablist Maria Chavez. Kiddo will be recording its next album at the end of April. The Dreadful Yawns are saving up their pennies to finish their next record. The New Lou Reeds are supposed to get our collective act together and record at some point in May or June. I learned that Hannah's first band--Jump You Bastard-- is ready to play out. I learned that I don't really like brown rice. I saw new photos from Argentina and am ready to return. My friend Michael (who now fronts the most excellent Boatz, a pop band such as CLE has not quite yet heard) used the term "free n' easy" to describe music of the Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, and the like. That's what I've been listening to, because I'm trying to get to that same place the music is attempting to reach. I realize I really don't like NPR's programming. I wish Thomas Mulready would post more about the music we're trying to do at the Beachland that more Clevelanders should really know about.
Here's what I have to say about all of this:
"Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view"
I awoke this morning sooner than I thought I would and with considerably less difficulty than expected. The three glasses of wine served by the lovely Hannah at Duck Island Club last night felt as if they should have done me in. Lord knows that with the company I was keeping--Lawrence Daniel Caswell on turntable, vocals, and conversation (left side), and Erin Elizabeth Phillips on conversation (right side) and liqueurs--I should have been a big sloppy mess. I exercised control, however, and stuck to my budget.
Erin and I talked about our sad neglect of the written (and read) word. I came to an understanding of Bobby Womack's "If You Think You're Lonely Now"--in vino veritas! Earlier that day I'd listened to a two-song comp that Brian Straw has been passing out in preparation for a string of Cleveland dates as well as some touring with one of his muses of inspiration Shannon Wright. The songs are, I believe, "Absent", and "Bleeding Sun", one of which might be with the Six Parts Seven backing him up. I'll remember when I check the disc out at work. Matt Wascovich is either out in Europe or touring with his friend, experimental turntablist Maria Chavez. Kiddo will be recording its next album at the end of April. The Dreadful Yawns are saving up their pennies to finish their next record. The New Lou Reeds are supposed to get our collective act together and record at some point in May or June. I learned that Hannah's first band--Jump You Bastard-- is ready to play out. I learned that I don't really like brown rice. I saw new photos from Argentina and am ready to return. My friend Michael (who now fronts the most excellent Boatz, a pop band such as CLE has not quite yet heard) used the term "free n' easy" to describe music of the Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, and the like. That's what I've been listening to, because I'm trying to get to that same place the music is attempting to reach. I realize I really don't like NPR's programming. I wish Thomas Mulready would post more about the music we're trying to do at the Beachland that more Clevelanders should really know about.
Here's what I have to say about all of this:
"Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view"
jump you bastard (s)
I can't believe that over the last few days I've smoked a pack of menthol cigarettes called "Caribbean Chill" that smelled like rank toxic candy. What am I thinking? What are they selling? This morning it's back to good old Camels, though I suspect my lungs and my wallet would really love to return to 'rollies', i.e. hand-rolled smokes. They're fun and the tobacco feels good. I recall that when in Argentina, I didn't smoke that much and felt considerably better. Then again, the weather was in the 70s-80s, I was walking what seemed like miles every day, I slept a lot (siestas are a goodness), and I wasn't working. I'd like to reiterate that it was warm. Here in CLE we've been experiencing a warm snap in the 50s. Whether this trend lasts through the weekend is anyone's guess.
I awoke this morning sooner than I thought I would and with considerably less difficulty than expected. The three glasses of wine served by the lovely Hannah at Duck Island Club last night felt as if they should have done me in. Lord knows that with the company I was keeping--Lawrence Daniel Caswell on turntable, vocals, and conversation (left side), and Erin Elizabeth Phillips on conversation (right side) and liqueurs--I should have been a big sloppy mess. I exercised control, however, and stuck to my budget.
Erin and I talked about our sad neglect of the written (and read) word. I came to an understanding of Bobby Womack's "If You Think You're Lonely Now"--in vino veritas! Earlier that day I'd listened to a two-song comp that Brian Straw has been passing out in preparation for a string of Cleveland dates as well as some touring with one of his muses of inspiration Shannon Wright. The songs are, I believe, "Absent", and "Bleeding Sun", one of which might be with the Six Parts Seven backing him up. I'll remember when I check the disc out at work. Matt Wascovich is either out in Europe or touring with his friend, experimental turntablist Maria Chavez. Kiddo will be recording its next album at the end of April. The Dreadful Yawns are saving up their pennies to finish their next record. The New Lou Reeds are supposed to get our collective act together and record at some point in May or June. I learned that Hannah's first band--Jump You Bastard-- is ready to play out. I learned that I don't really like brown rice. I saw new photos from Argentina and am ready to return. My friend Michael (who now fronts the most excellent Boatz, a pop band such as CLE has not quite yet heard) used the term "free n' easy" to describe music of the Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, and the like. That's what I've been listening to, because I'm trying to get to that same place the music is attempting to reach. I realize I really don't like NPR's programming. I wish Thomas Mulready would post more about the music we're trying to do at the Beachland that more Clevelanders should really know about.
Here's what I have to say about all of this:
"Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view"
I awoke this morning sooner than I thought I would and with considerably less difficulty than expected. The three glasses of wine served by the lovely Hannah at Duck Island Club last night felt as if they should have done me in. Lord knows that with the company I was keeping--Lawrence Daniel Caswell on turntable, vocals, and conversation (left side), and Erin Elizabeth Phillips on conversation (right side) and liqueurs--I should have been a big sloppy mess. I exercised control, however, and stuck to my budget.
Erin and I talked about our sad neglect of the written (and read) word. I came to an understanding of Bobby Womack's "If You Think You're Lonely Now"--in vino veritas! Earlier that day I'd listened to a two-song comp that Brian Straw has been passing out in preparation for a string of Cleveland dates as well as some touring with one of his muses of inspiration Shannon Wright. The songs are, I believe, "Absent", and "Bleeding Sun", one of which might be with the Six Parts Seven backing him up. I'll remember when I check the disc out at work. Matt Wascovich is either out in Europe or touring with his friend, experimental turntablist Maria Chavez. Kiddo will be recording its next album at the end of April. The Dreadful Yawns are saving up their pennies to finish their next record. The New Lou Reeds are supposed to get our collective act together and record at some point in May or June. I learned that Hannah's first band--Jump You Bastard-- is ready to play out. I learned that I don't really like brown rice. I saw new photos from Argentina and am ready to return. My friend Michael (who now fronts the most excellent Boatz, a pop band such as CLE has not quite yet heard) used the term "free n' easy" to describe music of the Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, and the like. That's what I've been listening to, because I'm trying to get to that same place the music is attempting to reach. I realize I really don't like NPR's programming. I wish Thomas Mulready would post more about the music we're trying to do at the Beachland that more Clevelanders should really know about.
Here's what I have to say about all of this:
"Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view"
4.04.2004
steeltown stringsnap
I'm still shaking off last night's sleep, still rubbing my eyes red, adjusting to the cold and the light of what appears to be a January day. In fact, it's April. April is not being kind to the Midwest. What have we done to offend the gods of weather? Maybe just us being here in CLE is offensive enough.
I'm at Lucky's again (thank you, Lucky's, for the rad Dells and the ultra-quick online hookup that I can't have at home), with food and drink and the ability to update this blog. I'm here to share with you my tales of Pittsburgh and the 31st Street Pub's "anniversary" show.
First off, the Cynics bailed, as mentioned in my last post. Fortunately, Barbara (from Get Hip), as well as Gregg and Michael from the Cynics were nice enough to come out and say hello. Of course, it's never just a 'hello' from Gregg--he's a chatty guy! Fortunately he's got a sense of humor to match his garrulousness. The lineup ended up being the Black Tie Revue and the Break Up Society. Ed and the Break Up guys played upbeat, loquacious and eloquent pop; the Black Tie Revue gleefully tied bands like Superchunk and Archers of Loaf to the Cure and other such Euro-trash. But since they're from Pittsburgh and not Brooklyn, NY, they aren't so beholden to coolness and style. Yet they were up there having so much irrepressible fun rockin' their anthems that we of the Cobra Verde camp couldn't help getting into their set. I'd love to see them somewhere with better sound, especially to hear singer Anthony's rock yelping and the keyboards rockin' in the back.
BTR went on first; Break-Up Society went second; then we loaded up our crap and hit the stage with little to no fanfare yet a decent-sized crowd standing attentively. We ran through the usual set we've been playing for a while, but since it's been a good 3-some years since we played the Pub, we didn't worry about redundancy. In fact, I'd like to think that we packed an additional can of whup-ass in Mark's scruffy minivan. We hadn't lost a step since the Little Steven fest over five weeks ago. As we barrelled through every song and bounced around on the miniscule stage, people applauded--rather gently, I might add--but never left. So I'm assuming they did, in fact, like it. Every crowd has its own internal, spontaneous mechanism, so that even though they might be into a band, I suppose they might not feel like yelling their lungs out. I'm fine with either. As long as people stick around long enough to say 'hi', and 'thanks' or whatever, I'm pretty pleased.
So there we were, ragin' full on. John does this funny thing on stage where he tries to hit me with his tambourine. This time I upped the ante and chased him onto the dance floor waving my bass, while desperately trying to play whatever song we were manhandling at the time. Of course, all this running around and goofing off winded the hell out of me. Argentina's made me too soft for this kind of rock action! I wanted to get Tim in on the action, but he was hiding in the wings, wailing away. At times I feel bad that I bounce around too much and get in his way. I'm going to have to think of a way to get him up and in front where people can see him do his thing, which he does very, very well.
"And then, tragedy struck...". I don't exactly recall when my low E string broke. Now, unless you're a bassist, you probably don't know that this is usually the biggest, heaviest string, and if it's wrapped as tight as my strings are, it would take considerable effort to snap this mother in two. Lo and behold, I did it. How this minor disaster occurred is a mystery to me. I knew that we had only two more songs to go. I said into the mic, "We've got two songs, I've got three strings. Anyone got a bass I can use?" No dice. Which meant I had to dip deeply into the bag of transpositions to fake the funk on "Here Comes Nothing" and the AC/DC stylee of "Modified Frankstein". Without the low E, that song ain't shit. Since I didn't have time to tune the string down, I pulled out my brand-spankin' new Cobra Verde pick [editor's note: Friend of CV, Chris Wasson, took the time and care to make us our very own CV guitar picks! And pickholders, to boot! Big, big props to Chris!) and mashed "MF" to oblivion. I was strumming so damn hard, I felt like Lawrence Daniel Caswell beating the stuffing out of whitey in Big Black Africa. We got asked to do one more song--"Catalog", which is a cinch with just three high strings. It didn't have much in the way of woof, but hey, you can't win 'em all.
That pretty much concluded the night. We hung out, thanked Joel at 31st Street for the hoagies he bought for us, and packed our respective toys and headed the hell back to CLEve.
I sure hope to heaven I have a low bass string. Yikes!
E
I'm at Lucky's again (thank you, Lucky's, for the rad Dells and the ultra-quick online hookup that I can't have at home), with food and drink and the ability to update this blog. I'm here to share with you my tales of Pittsburgh and the 31st Street Pub's "anniversary" show.
First off, the Cynics bailed, as mentioned in my last post. Fortunately, Barbara (from Get Hip), as well as Gregg and Michael from the Cynics were nice enough to come out and say hello. Of course, it's never just a 'hello' from Gregg--he's a chatty guy! Fortunately he's got a sense of humor to match his garrulousness. The lineup ended up being the Black Tie Revue and the Break Up Society. Ed and the Break Up guys played upbeat, loquacious and eloquent pop; the Black Tie Revue gleefully tied bands like Superchunk and Archers of Loaf to the Cure and other such Euro-trash. But since they're from Pittsburgh and not Brooklyn, NY, they aren't so beholden to coolness and style. Yet they were up there having so much irrepressible fun rockin' their anthems that we of the Cobra Verde camp couldn't help getting into their set. I'd love to see them somewhere with better sound, especially to hear singer Anthony's rock yelping and the keyboards rockin' in the back.
BTR went on first; Break-Up Society went second; then we loaded up our crap and hit the stage with little to no fanfare yet a decent-sized crowd standing attentively. We ran through the usual set we've been playing for a while, but since it's been a good 3-some years since we played the Pub, we didn't worry about redundancy. In fact, I'd like to think that we packed an additional can of whup-ass in Mark's scruffy minivan. We hadn't lost a step since the Little Steven fest over five weeks ago. As we barrelled through every song and bounced around on the miniscule stage, people applauded--rather gently, I might add--but never left. So I'm assuming they did, in fact, like it. Every crowd has its own internal, spontaneous mechanism, so that even though they might be into a band, I suppose they might not feel like yelling their lungs out. I'm fine with either. As long as people stick around long enough to say 'hi', and 'thanks' or whatever, I'm pretty pleased.
So there we were, ragin' full on. John does this funny thing on stage where he tries to hit me with his tambourine. This time I upped the ante and chased him onto the dance floor waving my bass, while desperately trying to play whatever song we were manhandling at the time. Of course, all this running around and goofing off winded the hell out of me. Argentina's made me too soft for this kind of rock action! I wanted to get Tim in on the action, but he was hiding in the wings, wailing away. At times I feel bad that I bounce around too much and get in his way. I'm going to have to think of a way to get him up and in front where people can see him do his thing, which he does very, very well.
"And then, tragedy struck...". I don't exactly recall when my low E string broke. Now, unless you're a bassist, you probably don't know that this is usually the biggest, heaviest string, and if it's wrapped as tight as my strings are, it would take considerable effort to snap this mother in two. Lo and behold, I did it. How this minor disaster occurred is a mystery to me. I knew that we had only two more songs to go. I said into the mic, "We've got two songs, I've got three strings. Anyone got a bass I can use?" No dice. Which meant I had to dip deeply into the bag of transpositions to fake the funk on "Here Comes Nothing" and the AC/DC stylee of "Modified Frankstein". Without the low E, that song ain't shit. Since I didn't have time to tune the string down, I pulled out my brand-spankin' new Cobra Verde pick [editor's note: Friend of CV, Chris Wasson, took the time and care to make us our very own CV guitar picks! And pickholders, to boot! Big, big props to Chris!) and mashed "MF" to oblivion. I was strumming so damn hard, I felt like Lawrence Daniel Caswell beating the stuffing out of whitey in Big Black Africa. We got asked to do one more song--"Catalog", which is a cinch with just three high strings. It didn't have much in the way of woof, but hey, you can't win 'em all.
That pretty much concluded the night. We hung out, thanked Joel at 31st Street for the hoagies he bought for us, and packed our respective toys and headed the hell back to CLEve.
I sure hope to heaven I have a low bass string. Yikes!
E
