Muchness and Light

Well I know you will remember, 'cause the music is forever.

It's been a really busy year for me. 

• I finished losing 115 pounds.
• I had three surgeries to removed 120+ square inches of skin.
• I went to South by Southwest for the first time.
• I got to see both my beloved The Gracious Few and LIVE with their new lead singer on the same night.  (Plus some other band.  I forget.)
• I fell in love with the Mynabirds.  (Missing Patsy Cline song – "We Made a Mountain")
• I finally got to see the Afghan Whigs live and to meet Greg Dulli in a dark alley behind the Masquerade.  (And Ric McCollum and John Curley.)
• I filed for divorce.
• I released my first novel. 

Even with all of that, there's still something missing.

Wednesday night, I will finally get to see Concrete Blonde live. 

"What's the big deal?" you ask. 

Well, let me tell you. 

Sometime during my freshman year of high school, I went one weekend afternoon to the Southside Festival, which was a great little outdoor music and arts thing that used to take place in Five Points South in my hometown of Birmingham, Alabama.  Five Points is a funky little area, artsy and eclectic—and it was much less dirty then than it is now.  (At least it seemed that way.)  My friends and I hung out there on weekends and sometimes after school, sitting around the fountain, bullshitting and getting into far less trouble than we probably deserved. 

So this specific day when I was 14, some record label promo people were passing out albums to the crowd.  Yes, vinyl, in the 12x12 sleeve, and for free.  They handed me two: Pleased To Meet Me by the Replacements—who I saw play at Sloss Furnaces a couple of years later—and Concrete Blonde's self-titled debut.  I tromped up the rickety stairs to Charlemagne Records and also bought a Billie Holiday best-of collection, as well as Metal Circus by Hüsker Dü. 

(It was a very eclectic day.  For those in the know, I ran into Broderick Brakefield and Bryan Simmons, who'd missed their ride the night before and had been running around down there, barefoot, for a couple of days.)

I went home and locked myself away in my bedroom, planting myself on the floor in front my stereo.  I might even have stacked the records on the turntable.  I loved them all, each in their own way, but I adored Concrete Blonde. 

It was the first day of a now-26-year love affair from afar with the incomparable Johnette Napolitano. 

As I've discussed before, I'm an alto.  (Really, a contralto.)  I don't have a lot of patience for wimpy soprano voices.  And Johnette's voice was the farthest from wimpy I'd ever heard.  It was deeply female with the most amazing breath control ever.  Ever.  (Those booming notes aren't higher; they're simply bigger.) 

I was blown away.

So this goes on for years, but somehow I miss them live, over and over and over.  I was too young for the clubs they played.  My ex-boyfriend was an asshole who beat me up the night before we were supposed to go to Atlanta to see them.  I lived in Huntsville where they never played anymore.  They broke up. 

I was supposed to see them two summers ago during their Bloodletting anniversary tour.  I had ruptured two discs in my back and was in so much pain that I had to give the tickets away.  (I cried.  A lot.)

So when I went to Variety Playhouse with Growler and Mandypants a few weeks ago (for the Psychedelic Furs, thank you very much), I was thrilled to see that Concrete Blonde would be playing on December 19^th.  Finally, finally!, I get to do this shit after twenty-six years. 

It's the voice and the lyrics and the fact that she plays bass.  She does the most wonderful covers of Leonard Cohen and Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, in part because her voice lends itself to that.  But my favorites, undoubtedly, are the ones with the complicated harmonies, where Johnette seems to wrap her own voice around itself. 

And, ultimately, I owe Johnette Napolitano my life. 

There are a couple of people who know this story.  If you're one of them and you're hearing (reading) it for the dozenth time, I apologize.  This anecdote was in the first draft of what would become Persona Non Grata: A Story of Junkture.  It was cut entirely when I fictionalized the book, though Concrete Blonde still made mention.  (page 81, at the end of chapter 6—you can search inside the book on Amazon, btw) 

NOTE:  This is still incredibly difficult for me to go back to, to put myself in the place where I felt the things I write about below.  I can deal with a lot of my shit, but this is one of the most personally-shameful moments of emotion in my forty years, and I'm not callous about this. 

The horrible ex-boyfriend (Damien) and I had broken up for what would be the last time.  After four tumultuous years with him, I was a mess.  I was devastated when we broke up.  For the third or fourth time since I'd known him, I decided that ending my life was the only way I would ever be able to deal with the pain. 

I had a plan.  I had the implements.  I was crying vicious tears while driving on I-65 north in Birmingham, determined to do it as soon as possible.  My little car had a cassette deck, and my very favorite tape was a home-recorded, 90-minute thing that had Concrete Blonde on one side and Bloodletting on the other—my two favorite Concrete Blonde records.  Bawling my head off, I intended to listen to "Bloodletting" and all of the subsequent tracks from that records, all so dark and somber.  It's an amazing record, but all I wanted was to let my own heart find its reprieve in that sadness. 

Instead, what I got was "True", the first track from the other side of the tape. 

Well when I've had enough

I'll get a pick-up truck and I'll drive away,

I'll take my last ten bucks just as far as it will go.

 

Well sometimes I'm easily fooled,

Take a painful step and I get knocked back two.

I do all I can and it's all I can do to be true.

And if I had the choice I'd take the voice I got

Cause it was hard to find.

You know I've come too far to wind up right back where I started.

And they tell me who I should be,

I'll never let those monkeys make a mess of me.

I am who I am and it's all I can do,

But I'm true.

One more sunrise

Open my eyes up – true

One more sunset

Lay my head down – true

They talk you up and then they talk you down

And you begin to doubt.

Sometimes the reasons seem so very far away.

But I'd stop breathing today,

Cause if I can't walk proud, I'd rather walk away.

I do all I am and it's all I can do,

But I'm true.

I'd give all I am and I'd give it to you.

So true.

That was what I heard, instead of a song of a crack in the mirror and a bloodstain on the bed, about being turned into the walking dead. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed into the otherwise-empty car tearfully. 

I went home instead.

So every time I get really down, feel really lost and can't find my inner compass, that's where I go back, to that piece of time (still so fresh inside my mind) and remember that moment of pause that saved my life. 

Was it really Johnette Napolitano that saved my life?  Not directly.  But I don't know that I would've been listening to anything else, or that I could've heard anyone else quite so clearly that late afternoon.  But I did hear it, thankfully.

So now, twenty-six years into this love affair, her music is still so often the soundtrack of my life.  And of Tierney's.  Six Concrete Blonde songs were included in my playlists.  All of my friends know how much I love her.  Half of them love her, too, because I introduced them. 

Tickets for Concrete Blonde at Variety Playhouse are still available.  Wednesday, December 19^th, at 8:00 p.m.  I'll be the first show for me and Growler, as well as for Tierney.  Come say hi.  I'll be the glittery Amazon belting out every last song. 

SXSW - Day 4

Day 4 in Austin came way the hell too early, as usual, but I dragged my ass toward a shower and breakfast before catching my shuttle back downtown.  I hit one panel on licensing, a Day Stage set by the Big Pink, and then decided, "Screw it!  It's St. Patrick's Day!"

By noon, 6^th Street was painted with all shades of green.  I'm a good Irish girl and made a point to find a good Kelly green tank top to brighten my day.  I wandered for a while, listening and watching, and was surprised to realize I was ravenous.  Chupacabra Cantina it was for some great Tex-Mex tacos.  And some Jack.  The hot bartender bought me a second round.  Turns out he used to play hockey for the former Atlanta Thrashers' feeder team, and his ex-wife used to babysit for Ed Kowalczyk, former LIVE frontman.  (More on that later.)

Jack and Ginger and I danced our way down 6^th, and we were immediately drawn to this voice coming from inside Friends.  It was sand-in-your-ass-crack gritty and awesome.  Turns out it belonged to Austin blues singer Rachael Crawford, and it was totally worth the chafing.  She did the best version of "Folsom Prison Blues" I've heard since the original. 

But Jack and Ginger and I had big plans for the evening.  After four good dances, we decided to shuttle our way back to the hotel for a shower and a quick nap.  Candlebox was doing a short acoustic set at the Bayou Lounge at 7 p.m.  I watched them do "Cover Me" and "Far Behind" then walked with Kevin and Sean over to Antone's for the Microsoft Big App on Campus party, hosted by the Gracious Few.

I was in the door quickly, at the front of the stage where Chad Taylor normally stomps.  The Canvas Waiting opened, their set including a fabulous cover of New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle", which holds a very special place in my heart.  I totally approved. 

Then my groupie love, the Gracious Few, took to the stage.  I hadn't seen them since May and was thrilled that they opened with "Silly Thing".  It's my song.  I loved it long before my path intertwined with theirs, and it's one of those songs that can sweep me away to a deeply, personally happy place, every single time I hear it.  TGF holds the spot for two of my top-five favorite songs (the other being "Labor of Love"), so it made me stupidly happy to start the night with it.  (No, Kevin, I don't blame you for not singing it with me this time.  For so many reasons.)  They were good.  They were my band.  And I was overjoyed to feel that pulsing rhythm that has been the soundtrack to so many miles of the most recent part of my journey. 

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 Blahblahblahblah from Microsoft.  Then came LIVE.

 

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 So, the boys from LIVE had been on a hiatus for nearly three years, mutually cutting ties with Ed Kowalczyk.  This was their first public show with their new lead singer, Chris Shinn.  They'd played a private event in York, PA, on Monday night.  I was supposed to have been at that show but had a last-minute family emergency that prevented me from going.  I was heartbroken at having missed such a special event in the life of the band I've loved for nearly twenty years, but it was unavoidable.

Chris had previously been with Unified Theory.  He also released a self-titled solo record in January that I really love.  It's a grown-up album and wasn't at all what I expected when DH gifted it to me during surgery recovery.  But I was concerned that Chris was too first tenor for the LIVE catalog.  (Later in his career, Ed's voice settled more toward his falsetto, but there are certain songs that even my natural contralto can't quite reach, when I have to pop up an octave to maintain the melody.) 

The guys came out to the first strains of "The Dam at Otter Creek", which was the song to open the best LIVE shows I've ever seen.  The whole set list was good—though I was very surprised to see "Freaks" on it.  There was nothing from Mental Jewelry, which was a little disappointing, but there was also nothing from V or Birds of Pray or the wretched Songs from Ed's Big Head Black Mountain.  It was fantastic to see Chad Taylor stomping and playing Ruby Lou.  Chad Gracey was out from behind the Plexi panel and pounded the fuck out of his drums.  I saw Patrick Dahlheimer smiling more on stage than I can remember having seen in years.  Sean Hennesy was kind enough to play the part of Adam Kowalczyk for the evening, even though that meant he had three straight sets with three different bands.

Chris seemed visibly nervous, and who can blame him?  The LIVE fans are rabidly split about whether or not they can support "their" band without Ed.  I wondered about it two years ago, too.  But this is totally up to Chad and Chad and Patrick, and I was more than willing to give a chance to any singer with the balls to step into that groupie firestorm.  Does he sound just like Ed?  No.  But there's a similarity there that lends his voice to the old songs.  Having been to dozens of LIVE shows over the years, I couldn't help but see the shaven ghost of Ed stepping across the stage, passing through and around Chris as he did his own thing.  But he did his own thing, and it was good.  I am looking forward to seeing where these guys go now that they're really opening a new chapter of their career. 

More Microsoft blahblahblah.

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Strangely, it was my first Candlebox show.  I was never a huge Cbox fan (Kevin, you were right—I always loved LIVE more.), but it was interesting to see how different he is on stage from one band to the next.  You don't notice it as much with guitarists, who can hide behind their instruments, but there was a different onstage persona that came out of him for each band.  My heart is still with TGF, but I knew enough Cbox to sing along and have him put his mic in my face, like he always has.  Okay, yeah, so it was "Far Behind", but I have my strangely personal reasons for liking that song, just like everyone else does.  (Well, except that I didn't get laid to it.)

After the show, though, was my favorite part.  Walking past the bar, I heard, "Stephanie!"  I turned to see Chad Taylor standing there, who I hadn't seen since May.  Big hugs and laughter.  "Gracey said to me, 'I think that skinny girl is Stephanie,' and I said, 'No way!'  Oh my God!  Look at you!  You were right in front of me for the entire Gracious Few set, and it wasn't until I came out with LIVE that I realized it was you!"  He promptly took me by the hand and twirled me around to see the difference that even the last forty-five pounds (and a new belly button) had made.  I knew I must be doing something right if even the rock stars can see the difference. 

I was exhausted, having stood and danced in the same spot for five hours.  Two of my very favorite songs were played that night ("I Alone" is on that list, too.  Strangely, Chad and Chad and Patrick, you have four of my five favorites.) , and it was exhilarating to be swept up in the music and the moments I love the most. 

I bravely stomped around Austin in my Big Girl panties and my persona non grata t-shirt, on my own for five days, and I loved every second of it.  Even my nervousness and being in a strange city, on my own, served only to invigorate me, and I splashed my muchness all over that fucking town—in my own way, sparkled with purple, just like I always do.

So make your siren's call and sing all you want.

I knew the first time I heard "Little Lion Man" that I really liked Mumford & Sons.  It was a darkly catchy little tune with huge, open harmonies, and I love nothing more than a great harmony to hook my voice around.  The entire debut CD, Sigh No More, is really fantastic, with its heavily-accented British folk sound. 

When Brits use a banjo, is it bluebloodgrass music?

When tickets went on sale for Mumford & Sons at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta, I was in the midst of Spring Break travel.  I knew I wouldn't be available to get tickets during the regular sale time, so I opted to buy presale tickets a couple of days before.  In theory, they were shitty upper-tier, dress circle seats.  In reality, there's really not a bad seat at the Fox.  The acoustics are so good, and you really can see everything going on.  Yes, I would've preferred to be closer to the stage, but I'm glad I even got a ticket to the sold-out show.

I got to the Fox in time to see the opening acts, Matthew and the Atlas and The Low Anthem.  It was more if the same indie folk pseudo-rock.  Both acts were very talented, certainly, but it wasn't enough to blow me away.  Except for The Low Anthem doing a song called "This God Damn House".  Singer Ben Knox Miller asked the audience to use their cell phones to call the person next to them when he gave a signal toward the end of the show.  It created a beautiful multi-lights effect, but it also created this strange reverb/static/noise/feedback that was breathtaking over this hauntingly sad song. 

 

Mumford & Sons took to the stage to thunderous applause.  I don't have the set list (I never keep up with that, you know.), but I think they played the entire album during their two-hour set.  I couldn't think of a track they didn't play.  Marcus Mumford (Marcus Yumford) plays guitar and a kick drum at the front of the stage.  He took to a full kit for one of the last songs of the evening, and it was amazing.  (Beware, Kevin Martin.  I may have a new singer-drummer groupie love crush.)

They did several new songs, as well, including one during the encore that I really wish I'd been able to record.  It was a still-untitled track that Mumford said they were still in the process of writing.  He said they'd been working on it during sound check and that the crowd would become part of the writing process.  Spin me 'round/just to pin me down/on the cover of this strange bed/Spin me 'round/just to pin me down....  Everyone leaving agreed it was the best new song of the night.

The most amazing part of the show was when they managed to quiet 8,000+ people to perform two songs, "Timshel" and "Sister", totally and perfectly as acoustic songs.  No mic, no PA—just Mumford, his guitar, and four interwoven voices. 

 

The sound was great, the light show was fantastic, and they worked the crowd into an intimate frenzy.  It was truly like an 8,000-person drunken pub sing-a-long.  The energy reminded me a lot of the first time I saw Dave Matthews Band, in Birmingham in 1995 or so.  Under the Table and Dreaming had just come out, and he was playing with Dionne Farris, half of whose band was from Alabama.  They collectively did a ten-minute version of Bob Marley's "Exodus" that was mind-blowing.  I was on the front row for that show.

I've been to a lot of concerts in my life, and this Mumford & Sons show has jumped high on the list of best shows ever.  Nothing will likely ever beat Leonard Cohen at the Fox in October 2009, but what the hell could, honestly?  There's also a LIVE show, the week The Distance to Here came out, and we were on the front row.  It was the last night they were touring with Jimmie's Chicken Shack, and it was a ton of pure, raw fun in the steamy, pouring October-in-Alabama rain.  And then there's that Gracious Few show in Chicago, but it's special to me for so many other reasons that have nothing to do with the show itself, so I don't know if I even include it in my list.  (Sometimes my love for The Gracious Few has nothing to do with my fandom, you know.) 

If you get the chance to catch Mumford & Sons on this or any tour, do it.  I will be there next time they're close, and I will do whatever it takes to be in front.  I'm at a point in my life where I can afford to be elitist and spend too much money for better seats, and I fully intend to do so.  It was a spectacularly wonderful musical evening that I will remember for a very, very long time.

I really, really, really love you

A few days ago, I posted a little story about Vain Edmund and his band of minstrels, the Singing Heds.  It was a silly little story, rife with sarcasm.  A couple of people commented that they didn't know what the hell it was about, which is fine.  A lot of readers did know the back story, though, and I've gotten several comments about it.  With one exception, the commenters have been in agreement with me. 

However, one reader said, "I didn't like the blog post about the Princess and Vain Edmund, and not because I am blindly loyal to Ed K., but because I found the mean-spiritedness of the piece to be in direct contradiction to the expectation of "muchness and light," I was led to believe I might find here. I felt diminished myself after having read it."

In all fairness, she left me that comment publicly on yesterday's post, in which I requested that readers de-lurk for a day and tell me who you are.  (Please!  Feel free to do that any time.  Really.)  I'm not at all upset by the feedback.  It's her opinion, and she's definitely entitled to it.  But she did inspire me to step from behind the guise of the blog and explain the story and why I wrote it.

 

I have mentioned many times that I have been a die-hard Live fan since I first saw the video for "I Alone", roughly 1994.  I know I was working at the indie record store, and we had received promotional material for Throwing Copper.  I did a huge wall display, including a poster of the Screaming Ed Head.  I loved that poster so much (Why don't you marry it?) that I kept one back for myself.  It was never stapled or taped or tacked up to a wall.  It sat in a tube in a closet for about fifteen years, until July 2009.  (More about that it a bit.) 

My first Live show was a general admission show at Vanderbilt, again around 1994.  DH and I went to see them in Nashville.  Sponge and Love Spit Love opened.  I was fucking blown away by the live Live experience, and that show is one of the reasons why "t.b.d." and "I Alone" constantly waffle between numbers 1 and 2 in my list of favorite songs of all time.  ("The Soft Parade" by the Doors, and "Silly Thing" and "Labor of Love" by the Gracious Few round out the top five, not necessarily in that order.)

We tried to see them a few weeks later in Knoxville.  Pete Droge opened and was just fantastic.  I remember all these girls thinking Matt Gracey was Ed Kowalczyk, when he was running around on stage before the show.  Unfortunately, it turned into a nasty crowd, and DH had to drag my ass out before I got into a serious fist fight.  It was bad. 

Over the next fifteen years, I would see Live dozens of times, in large venues and small.  Several times I was front row.  I remember buying my first front row tickets over the phone from Ticketlink, for a show in Birmingham, AL.  It was the morning of Princess Diana's funeral, and I'd been up all night watching the procession.  I can still hear how surprised the guy on the phone was when he pulled the front row. 

My favorite opening acts were, without question, Pete Droge, Luscious Jackson, and Jimmie's Chicken Shack. 

I was able to sit in on two separate private acoustic sets Live did for radio station winners.  At one of them, I was very pregnant, and it was the first time I felt the baby move to music.  (It was "Dance With You", which will still make me cry.  I used to sing it to the boys when they were babies.)  I couldn't listen to "Lightning Crashes" at all during either of my pregnancies, because I would cry for hours afterward.

 

 

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My last Live show was at Chastain in Atlanta.  It was August 17, 2008.  I had no idea it would be my last, or I would have better pictures, not taken from on my phone.  They played with Collective Soul.  It was a good show, certainly, but not one of my favorites.

 

Then July 8, 2009, I went to see Ed Kowalczyk do a solo acoustic set at Eddie's Attic in Atlanta.  It's a really small venue, and everybody has played there.  It was a fantastic show, really, and I finally had the chance to have him sign my poster from 1994. 

At the time, the official break-up hadn't quite happened, though there had been rumblings for a while.  He had launched his EddieKLive.com site and was referring to himself as Eddie K, because that was what his friends called him, or so he said.  I remember commenting to DH that it smacked of Prince when he tried to break out of his contract with Warner Bros.  Ed signed my freaking LIVE poster as "EK Live '09".  Asshat. 

So the "hiatus" is announced.  Chad Taylor publicly vents about the break-up, though we'd seen tweets from both Chads for weeks and months prior to this.  The Gracious Few is born.  Both Ed and the Gracious Few release their debut CD's in September 2010.  Both of them sat on my desk for weeks until I was finally able to listen.

I fell instantly in love with The Gracious Few.  Really, I was blown the fuck away, and rightly so.  I've discussed my groupie love of them many, many times and will probably continue to do so for a while. 

Not so much with Ed's CD's, Alive.  The title's mildly (and irritatingly) ironic, but the music was everything I didn't like about the last couple of Live albums.  I've listened to it twice and have no intention of hearing it ever again. 

I've read and heard a lot of interviews with both Chad Taylor (the most vocal of the Live/TGF members) and Ed Kowalczyk about the break-up.  Chad and DH and I had a lengthy conversation about it at the Masquerade in Atlanta in October, after my first Gracious Few show.  Let me be clear: I have never once heard Chad Taylor, Chad Gracey, or Patrick Dahlheimer make a malicious or disparaging remark about Ed Kowalczyk as a person.  They have always been very, very careful when talking to me to never, ever attack him--as I have experienced those multiple conversations. 

There were serious allegations made by Chad, Chad, and Pat about Ed having screwed them financially and professionally.  I had no reason not to believe their story, but I didn't really have a reason to blindly buy into it, either.  So I went online and pulled the public court documents.  They're lengthy and detailed and filled with legalese, as I expected.  There were no substantial surprises in the complaint--I'd already been told all of the accusations against Ed. 

Ed's response, albeit through his attorney, though, was awful.  It smacked of ingratitude and self-aggrandizement.  Based on how I interpreted it, he basically said his friends and former band mates could passably be called musicians, and that he had carried them for years, that their contributions to Live were minimal at best.  He plainly believed that he was the driving force behind the band and that it would not have succeeded were it not for him.

Again, Ed Kowalczyk was my groupie love crush for fifteen years.  I'm also well aware that sometimes legal posturings are just that.  But this was just ugly.  It made me ashamed to have ever been so enamored of him.  I gave it a couple of days and let it sit.  Then I removed myself from his fan club, mailing list, and Facebook page. 

A few days ago, someone posted a link to a recent interview with Ed, who is currently on tour again in support of his record.  There were two specific quotes that irritated the shit out of me:

"I was responsible for all the lyrics and music for Live, so the writing process didn’t change much at all for me."

Um, no.  No, you weren't.  There's always been some inkling of doubt as to whether or not Ed really wrote some of Live's biggest hits, at least by himself.  Regardless of anecdotal information, there are numerous of tracks that were credited to more than just Ed, even on something as basic as the album liner notes.  Lyrically, perhaps it is all Ed.  But to completely dismiss twenty years of contributions by your friends and band mates makes you a megalomaniac.

"I love to rock; that’s where my passion lies and my album is heavy."

If Alive is heavy, I'm a short, skinny little thing.  Oh, wait....

So was I perhaps a bit mean-spirited in my Vain Edmund story?  Okay, maybe.  But that interview was incensing, as were so many of his comments over the last year-and-a-half.  I had something to say, and I stopped short of calling him a lying, back-stabbing asshole.  That would just be mean. 

When I took Ed out of the equation, and I gave the Gracious Few a fighting chance, I realized how much my love for Live had nothing to do with Ed Kowalczyk, especially on the last couple of albums.  The driving force of the music that I love rests squarely on the shoulders of Chad Taylor, Chad Gracey, and Patrick Dahlheimer.  No one was more surprised to learn this than I was.

And the truth is, it still makes me sad.  I found a box recently that contains all of my Live memorabilia.  There are dozens of signed CD's and t-shirts and passes and ticket stubs.  The Frisbee I got for doing some street team stuff.  I drank my coffee this morning out of my Live mug, but I was too sad to hang my Live ornament on my Christmas tree this past year.  It still feels like a bad break-up, and I can't listen to their music right now without drinking a little bit.  It's bittersweet to sing along to "Heaven Wore a Shirt" and "Iris" and "Feel the Quiet River Rage".

So I've moved on, yes, to the Gracious Few, but not because they're Live and Candlebox.  Even with the three remaining members of Live, the addition of Kevin Martin and Sean Hennesy created an entirely new beast.  There are hints of each of the parent bands, of course, but they've really created something new and astonishingly good.  And I love the new guys as much as I love the old (!) ones. 

Live and their music is intimately tied to my own history--including the beginnings of my marriage, the births of my children, and the salvation from a couple of nervous breakdowns.  "t.b.d." was the first song I ever played in my car when I got a car with a built-in CD player.  "Beauty of Gray" is still the best song for me to test how warmed up my vocal chords are, because I can hit the actual notes or take them up an octave to try my upper register. 

If I'm critical of Ed Kowalczyk and how I perceive all of this to have played out, that's my right as a long-time, financially-supportive fan.  And to express my disdain about anything is one of the things I do best.  The truth is, if I didn't care so much, it wouldn't still be bothersome. 

Chad Taylor was right when he said they all got what they wanted--Ed got a solo career, and the rest of them got a rock band.  I just hope Ed realizes exactly the debt he owes to the rock band. 

 

 

Is it money, is it fame, or were they always this lame?

                Once upon a time, there was a princess.  She was young, kind of pretty, and something of an Amazon.  She loved music, all types of music, and spent hours upon hours delighting in the sounds of the minstrels who traveled through her kingdom. 

                One day, as she traveled through the streets of her city, disguised as a common, busty serving wench, she happened upon a post nailed to the door of the local tavern:

 

One Night Only

The Singing Heds

Tonight!

 

                The princess was intrigued.  The Singing Heds, she thought to herself.  I've never heard of these musicians.  She was especially entranced by the drawing of a man, his mouth open in song and his brow furrowed in deep emotion.  He looked almost angry, but there was something magnetic about his eyes.  And his close-cropped hair, almost like it was shaved, made the butterflies in her stomach do a little dance.  Carefully peeking around to be sure she was unnoticed, the princess carefully tore the poster from the tavern door and darted back to the castle.

                Princess called her handmaids to her quarters.  "Draw me a bath!  I need to be fresh and beautiful!"

                The servants went straight to work, preparing a hot, fragrant bath for the princess and helping her wash her flowing, strawberry blonde locks.  The princess chose her favorite gown of shimmering purple and wove matching silk ribbons through her hair.  She donned her very favorite pair of black velvet calf boots with fancy buttons, and she left the castle for the tavern. 

                The drinking establishment was crowded already, filled with boisterous rebel rousers who were already filled to their brims with mead and ale.  The tavern was dark and warm, and it took a moment for Princess's deep green eyes to adjust to the dim of the torch-lit room.  But there!, just walking onto the stage, was the band of traveling minstrels, the Singing Heds. 

                The princess slid into a shadow along the back wall of the room, trying her best to remain unnoticed.  She darted her eyes to and fro, trying to determine which of the handsome, young minstrels was the man from the post she'd secreted from the tavern door that very afternoon.  She had, in fact, rolled the parchment into a small tube and tucked it away into her skirts.  She hoped the young man would be educated enough to write his own name, to scribe his signature on the drawing, as a memento of the evening. 

                First to the stage came a cute man--Why he's barely a boy!  They all are!--with a tambor affixed to his hip.  Next were two more comely men, each with well-trimmed beards and dark locks.  It was hard at first to distinguish between them, except that one situated himself on a low stool with a gamba between his legs, while the other sat nearby with his lute poised on his lap. 

                And then, there he was!  The handsome young man from the post!  His freshly-shaven head gleamed in the torchlight.  The princess giggled to herself as she noticed the dark unibrow above his brooding eyes.  She knew from her studies that such a trait was a sure sign of virility in the eastern areas of the Continent.  Perhaps this man could make a great mate for even a princess!

                "Hullo," the young man said, addressing the crowd.  "Thank you for welcoming us to your great city!  Here's a little ditty we wrote just for you!"

                The Singing Heds played their beautiful music, and the Princess was swept away by the dulcet tones.  All four men were obviously gifted musicians, but she couldn't tear her eyes and ears away from the singer.  He was handsome and magnetic.  His voice rose to the rafters of the tiny tavern and took her heart with it.  She was in love.

                They played to the applause--claps and whistles of appreciation were intermingled with the tinkling of small coins tossed to the foot of the stage.  After the music was quieted, some of the patrons left for their own homes, humming and singing with each other as they traveled the cobblestone streets in the dark.  Others stayed in hopes of meeting and talking with the minstrels.  Some admirers bought tankards of ale for the musicians, and a tawdry female would occasionally lift her skirts a little too high, trying to garner their attention. 

                The Princess watched all of this unfold, from her shadowy perch near the end of the bar.  She watched as the young singer laughed and chatted with the men while his mates packed up their instruments.  The singer smiled pleasantly at the forward young women but gave them very little notice.  Finally, Princess stepped out of the shadow and toward the stage.

                The barkeep had not noticed the princess all evening and gasped when he saw her.  The straggling drinkers stepped back and bowed as the princess walked toward the minstrels near the stage.  The singer looked the princess squarely in the eye and smiled, though certainly he had to have known she was of some import, dressed in such fine garments. 

                The princess extended her hand to the singer.  "Thank you for sharing your music with us this evening.  Your tunes were quite fine, and I very much enjoyed watching your performance."

                The singer grasped the princess's fingertips and bowed deeply, kissing her hand.  "Thank you, milady.  I am Edmund.  These are my companions, Chadwick, Chadwick, and Patric."

                "Two Chadwicks?" Princess laughed.  "How confusing that must be!  But I am pleased to make your acquaintances.  I am Princess.  This is my city, though my husband thinks me far too flighty to be out in such a manner, for no other reason than to see and hear the sights of the commoners.  Alas, good music is of utmost importance to my soul!"

                Edmund laughed.  "Indeed, Princess.  Tell me more of your husband.  The prince, is it?"

                The princess and the singer talked for a length of time, discussing music and politics (though the singer seemed to know very little of workings outside his home realm) and religion (of which the singer initially seemed to believe one thing, then another, then another).  Princess, however, was so infatuated by Edmund's voice and eyes and perfect smile that she completely ignored the shortcomings of his personality. 

                She knew the hour was growing ever later, and she had to return to the castle before her husband became ill with worry.  She slipped the rolled parchment from her skirts and handed it to the singer.

                "Would you be so kind as to sign this for me?  As a souvenir of the evening?"

                Edmund smiled and nodded, retrieving a quill and inkwell from the barkeep.  In huge letters he scrawled his nickname "Ed'D" and drew a stick figure of a little man. 

                The princess clapped her hands and squealed with delight.  "How wonderful!  I would also like to have the Chadwicks and Patric sign their own names!"

                Edmund's smile froze, but his expression turned suddenly dark.  "Oh, Princess, there's no need for that.  They're just traveling musicians who contribute very little to the sound of the Singing Heds--well, only what I tell them to contribute anyway."

                Princess was puzzled.  "But they seem to be such talented instrumentalists!"

                Edmund nodded in agreement.  "Without a doubt, they are wonderfully adept players.  Alas, they are only players.  They do not write the music we play.  I, Your Highness, compose all of our tunes."

                Chadwick, Chadwick, and Patric were standing to the side of the stage, listening intently to the conversation.  The princess glanced toward the three young men, and Chadwick the Lute Player took that as a sign to speak his mind.

                "That's not entirely true, Princess," he said firmly.  "I helped write the third and fifth and eighth songs we played tonight."

                "And I helped with the second and seventh," added Patric.

                "I also helped with the seventh and the twelfth," interjected Chadwick the Tambor Player. 

                The princess turned again to Edmund, her expressing pressing him for an explanation. 

                "Well," he stammered, "I wrote all of the lyrics.  They do help write some of the music, sometimes."  He lowered his voice dramatically.  "But their input is really very limited.  That's why I receive added monetary compensation when we perform."

                "You are paid more than your colleagues?"

                The Chadwicks and Patric nodded in unison, stepping closer to the princess and the singer.  "He receives a singer bonus," they said.  "Aren't all singers paid a little more?"

                The princess cut her eyes toward the three musicians and shook her head.  "No," she said, "they aren't."  She regarded Edmund thoughtfully for a long moment.  Purposefully, she turned her back toward him and walked to join the other musicians.  "Gracious Gentlemen," she began, "I believe I would like to hear you play your music, without the assistance of vain Edmund."

                The three musicians gasped.  "Princess, he's our friend!  We could not carry on without him!"

                The princess laughed.  "No, your friend would never put himself so high above you.  He is what I like to call 'a megalomaniacal asshat of a douche bag'."

                And so the princess invited Chadwick the Lute Player, Chadwick the Tambor Player, and Patric the Gamba Player to stay at the castle.  She gave the autographed parchment to Edmund the Egomaniac and had him escorted from the city immediately, inviting him never to return.  Princess knew there would be another singer soon enough, and perhaps additional musicians who would like to collaborate with these talented young men.

                Edmund went on to other kingdoms and other cities, singing the songs he'd written with his so-called friends while telling everyone of the joys of being a solo musician.  There were fools and village idiots, certainly, who believed his tales of grandeur.  But there were also true fans of music who could see through his fucktardness and knew the real reason why his eyes were brown.  

Adam Taylor is a genius! Give him $1!

My friend Adam Taylor has launched a Kickstarter campaign for the forthcoming CD for his band, also called Adam Taylor, ironically enough.  I kind of went back and forth about whether or not I should do a blog post about this.  I mean, it's not really Alice-y, and it's not really about me.  But I've written about him before, and some others, and this is a project that's really close to my heart.

So I'm going to take a moment to ask you to consider helping Adam Taylor.

I first learned about Adam through his older brother, Chad Taylor, on his Facebook last fall.  Chad is a founding member of both Live and the Gracious Few, my previous and current favorite bands, respectively.  Chad is also an accomplished music and film producer, and an all-around nice guy.  Chad and I had met and chatted many times before he asked his Facebook fans to give his brother a listen, so I thought, "Why not?"

Turns out, Adam's a genius.  Seriously.  His music is smart and funny and really damn good. 

And guess what?  He's not Chad. 

Musically, he's nothing like his older brother.  They didn't really grow up together; Chad was already a young musician with a burgeoning rock band, Live, by the time Adam dropped into the world.  There are similarities in their personalities and their work ethics.  They're both cute brunets with facial hair who love their friends and family.  Oh, and they both play guitar.  That's about it. 

Seriously, I'm sure there's something more, but don't expect Adam to play like a younger version of Chad.  It's just not happening. 

But when I gave Adam a shot, I realized I adored his music.  He did an interview with me about my fiction project, much like Kevin Martin (Candlebox, the Hiwatts, the Gracious Few) did, and it turned out that I really liked the guy.  He's just nice.  He's also an amazing performer, as I discovered for myself at Smith's Olde Bar in December 2010.

So now he's almost finished recording his new album but needs help raising the $6,000 to make the CD and go on tour.  I can't imagine that anyone wouldn't hear Adam Taylor and go, "My God!  This kid's a genius!"  (Okay, so maybe not everyone would say it.  But even if you're a die-hard metal freak who doesn't like anything but four guitars speed battling for screech, you have to admit the guy is unbelievably talented.) 

The music business is a nightmare right now, and the economy sucks.  But budding musicians need the opportunity to have their talents heard and judged.  Please consider supporting him, or some other musician, by donating $1, $5, $10, or whatever you think their music is worth to you.  Think of yourself as a neo-Renaissance Patron of the Arts.  Great classics of art and music would never have been created were it not for the original patrons and groupies who paid to support their favored aesthetics. 

You can go to his Kickstarter page and watch his video.  You can also check out his debut EP, Play the Piano Drunk, though my Amazon aStore links at the right of this page.  If for some (insane) reason you decide that he's not worth your $1, take a look at some of the other projects being featured on Kickstarter.  I guarantee you'll find something that tickles your fancy and could use your help, and you can say you were there when. 

  

No other slayer, no-how.

So I'm having a crisis of confidence today.  I'm in the middle of writing a fiction piece that's been brewing for a long time.  I'd let it sit for ages, busy with life, I guess.  I was a productive member of society, but I wasn't really working on anything for me.  Until this past October.

For my birthday (August 27th, for future reference), Dear Hubby bought me tickets to see the Gracious Few in Atlanta at the Masquerade.  I have been a LIVE fan since 1994 and had seen them dozens and dozens of times, under all kinds of circumstances.  The official announcement of their hiatus (read, "break-up") in 2009 wasn't surprising in the least, but it was painful.  All those years of built-up groupie energy were just... gone.  At the end of their time together, the Gracious Few was born, made up of Chad Gracey, Chad Taylor, and Patrick Dahlheimer of LIVE, plus Kevin Martin and Sean Hennesy of Candlebox.  (I was also a Candlebox fan, though not nearly to the same extent.  Kevin was too much of a pretty boy for me (in the 1990's anyway, compared to Ed Kowalczyk and his shaved head).

So, anyway, the Gracious Few CD came out September 14th, and it sat on my desk for nearly two weeks before I could bear to open it.  It was like meeting Dad's new girlfriend for the first time.  I wasn't really sure I would tolerate it, let alone like it.  What if she was a total strumpet?  Where would I be then?  When I finally did give it a listen, I fell head-over-heels in love.  It's a really fantastic rock album.  It's not alternative, it's not adult contemporary, just balls-to-the-walls rock.  And it's really good.  (Try it!  You'll like it!)  It's one of a handful of albums I have ever immersed myself in for weeks on end.  My poor boys were subjected to it three and four times a day.  Three months later, it's still my favorite playlist for working out--it makes me want to sweat!

   DH and I went to the Masquerade, sat in the will-call line, made it inside.  Six Shot Revival was surprisingly good and had some hard core fans in the audience.  American Bang was fun.  Then the Gracious Few came on.  There were maybe 150 people there (based on what I saw when I turned around from the

front), nothing like the thousands upon thousands both LIVE and Candlebox have traditionally entertained.  (Interestingly, TGF was playing in the Hell theater.  GWAR was upstairs in Heaven.  Their fake blood ended up dripping through the ceiling in Hell before the show was over.  It was fucking weird.)  I could go on ad infinitum (read, "ad nauseum") about why I loved that show and that music and that band.  That was the first night I got to sing with Kevin Martin from stage.  (Though I haven't seen the video or pictures, I grasp desperately to the hope that it didn't suck like it did in Chicago in November.) 

Something happened for me after that night, though, that kicked my ass into gear.  I went home and started writing again, working on this story that had been stagnating for two or three years.  This all happened to be timed with the realization that I'd lost my muchness.  DH let me check out of my life for a couple of days, and I went to Birmingham to see TGF again.  I had a remarkable time hanging out with them the night before the show, just talking about anything and nothing.  I holed up in my hotel for most of my two days in Birmingham and wrote.  And wrote and wrote and wrote.

I realized I had some verisimilitude issues.  I needed some details that I couldn't really research online, and I certainly didn't have the experiential knowledge to fill in the gaps I was finding.  I took a shot in the dark and emailed Mr. Martin and asked if he would be willing to chat with me in Chicago, before yet another TGF show.  I openly admitted that I didn't necessarily expect a response, let alone willing participation, but I was in a "nothing ventured, nothing gained" mood.  To my delighted surprise, he agreed to meet with me.  We met at the venue and talked for about an hour, the evening before the show.  I had tons of questions, and he had unexpected answers for me.  My brain churned for days, I emailed him more questions, and I was writing even more.

I was at less than 12,000 words at the first of October, leftovers from when this process had originally begun.  As of yesterday, I'm up to 95,973, and I'm about two-thirds of the way through the story, I think.  Here's the rub:

I can either continue on this path that I have laid out for myself and these characters, or I can backtrack and change direction all together.  To go forward is new, but based on a concrete past determined by the choices I have already made, both in the story and in pre-production notes.  The subject matter at this point is emotionally challenging and will continue to be so for a while.  There will eventually be a good resolution; this is ultimately a love story.  This path was planned long, long ago.  The original snippets of story were written based on these ideas and this plan.  But it's hard.

Or, I can go back and undo the harshest parts of the story and still continue on to the resolution.  It would be easier, less likely to be judged harshly by the third-party eyes that will eventually be laid on it. 

Do I want to paint the white roses red?

All day, I've been going back to the Jabberwocky.  Tim Burton's version of the Jabberwocky, mind you, slain by Alice on Frabjous Day.  The Jabberwocky is definitely the embodiment of my crisis of confidence, as it was for Alice.  Her path to slaying the Red Queen's pet with the Vorpal Sword has been laid out in the Oraculum.  Her path seems to have been decided by choices made in the concrete past.

                Alice stared at the picture of the horrible monster that was winging its way toward them.  She saw her golden hair flying as she wielded the Vorpal Sword, but she still couldn't imagine how it would feel--the thunk of the blade slicing into flesh, the scrape of its long sharp claws against her pale skin.  She was not a killer.  How could she kill anything...let alone Underland's most dreaded creature?

                Overwhelmed, Alice turned and ran out of the courtyard.  She bolted through the castle and out into the gardens until she found the hedge maze, where she threw herself onto a garden bench and wept.

                "Nothing was ever accomplished with tears," observed a voice.  Alice lifted her tear-streaked face and looked around.

                "Absolem?"

Absolem, the Blue Caterpillar, is spinning himself a chrysalis to transform into a butterfly.  Alice begs him not to go:

                "I need your help.  I don't know what to do!"

                "I can't help you if you don't even know who you are, stupid girl."

But Alice does know.  She tells Absolem, and reminds herself, of all the wonderful ways in which she is Alice Kingsleigh.  She draws upon the power of that epiphany and straps on the armor and sword of the White Queen's champion.  Alice steps up to slay the Jabberwocky.  She comments to the Mad Hatter that it's an impossible task, but then she reminds herself that she sometimes believes "as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

The Jabberwocky doesn't see Alice as his enemy, though; that's the Vorpal Sword.  Absolem tells Alice, "Remember, the Vorpal Sword knows what it wants.  All you have to do is hold on to it."  As Alice fights, she remembers the six impossible things she has learned while in Underland.  And while she's working through her own issues of self-confidence, the Vorpal Sword continues to battle the Jabberwocky, seemingly of its own accord.  Alice jumps in the air and slices the Jabberwocky's head off.

                Alice was too exhausted to speak, but the dead creature's head seemed to say everything.

Alice always had the choice to not fight.  The events detailed in the Oraculum weren't guaranteed to come true until they had actually happened.  Even though she had the support of her talking animal friends, ultimately it was Alice's decision, as she learns before her battle:

                "Alice," said the White Queen, "you cannot live your life to please others.  The choice must be yours because when you step out to face that creature, you will step out alone."

I have the choice to not follow the illustrations of my Oraculum, to ignore the character sketches and story outlines that were decided so long ago, based on some inspiration that I may or may not remember.  I don't have someone else to be my champion now.  Perhaps I let my Vorpal Sword, my thoughts and words, run of their own volition and finish this battle.  Can I believe my own impossibilities and let myself slay these misgivings?   

This choice is solely and squarely on my shoulders.  How I wish I could run to a hedge maze and cry!  I'm sure my Absolem would remind me to not be stupid and to know who I am, were he not tangled in his own gilded chrysalis. 

Adam Taylor is adorable!

Adam Taylor is adorable, but he would never admit it.

His dark, unkempt curls and boyish good looks totally belie the wit and wisdom of his music.  The young troubadour from Lancaster, PA, is celebrating his 20th birthday by setting off on a road trip with singing partner Kate Young, playing several dates across Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee, beginning December 6th at the Ephrata Main Theatre in Ephrata, PA. 

"I love traveling," he says.  "I write all my songs in the car.  I love driving.  I love the journey, the adventure."

Taylor claims the likes of Charles Bukowski and Tom Waits as his influences.  He is mature and inquisitive for his age, and it shows through his deeply perceptive and observant lyrics.  His melodies are deceptively simple--widely influenced by rock, folk, bluegrass, and ragtime. 

Taylor's first EP, Play the Piano Drunk, was recorded while he finished his senior year of high school.  He covers such topics as media obsession, body image, and raging jealousy, all with a melodic ease that's indicative of his constant effort to be a successful musician. 

"The people who are successful are successful not because of their talent. Talent is the icing on the cake.  Persistence: that's what breeds success."

Taylor has learned a lot about hard work, especially from his older brother, Chad--a founding member of both LIVE and the Gracious Few.  Adam Taylor says the brothers have fun learning from each other and sharing their similar opinions on how a record should be made.  Chad Taylor produced both Play the Piano Drunk and Adam's forthcoming LP, due out in March 2011. 

"Chad was kind of the first person to give me tough love.... What I learned from him is that... if you want something, if you truly want it, you'll work for it."

Taylor is also quick to note that his success thus far is due to more than just his own hard work and talent.  He openly credits his band members--Kate Young, Mike Giblin, Jason Hoffheins, and John Fritchey--with helping him create the sound that is Adam Taylor.

"My band name is my name, you know?  I don't want it to be about me.  It just so happens that my face is my brand."

Taylor spends a lot of time promoting his brand.  He actively posts on his own Facebook wall and engages fans, whom he calls only "friends", about topics ranging from his own music, to short films, to politics.  He says it all begins with good content. 

"If I create something cool, and you like it, you'll share it.  That's what engages people.  I try and create conversations."

He began a conversation with his friends in mid-October, about which Christmas songs they liked.  In less than a month he announced that his free Christmas gift to them was finished.  Taylor says he decided against doing a cover of a Christmas song to avoid being "trite".   He released the download of an original track, "Mrs. Mistletoe", as well as a video, at noon EST on November 26th -- Black Friday.  He describes his song as "damn catchy".  He's absolutely right.

 

At the end of the video, he asks his audience to make a donation to Lancaster-based Music for Everyone, a non-profit that helps fund music education in schools and in the Lancaster County area. 

"Music budgets are being cut everywhere in schools," he explains.  "Extra-curricular activities like my middle school jazz band are what made me who I am today.  I think music was my very first step to opening my mind, and I think it is for a lot of people.  The world's next Bob Dylan is sitting in gym class right now, and I'm not okay with that."

Friends and fans spread the word about "Mrs. Mistletoe" quickly across Facebook.  Taylor says he's pleased with the number of downloads so far and is "blown away by the response."

Ultimately Adam Taylor hopes people will listen to his music and share it with their friends.  "I want to write the record that people listen to when they've got their friends in the car, shouting every lyric with the windows down."

Adam Taylor (with Kate Young) will be performing with Granville Automatic December 6th through December 14th.  For more information on Adam Taylor, or to purchase tickets, visit www.adamtaylormusic.com. 

 

Monday, December 6, 2010 at Ephrata Main Theatre, Ephrata, PA

Tuesday, December 7, 2010 The Pour House Music Hall, Raleigh, NC

Thursday, December 9, 2010 Lexington Brewery, Asheville, NC

Friday, December 10, 2010 Smith's Olde Bar, Atlanta, GA

Tuesday, December 14, 2010 New Faces Night at The Basement @ Grimey's, Nashville, TN