Monday, December 27, 2010

dogma flippers

Had my last morning with my brother, his wife and baby. The usual nearly broken heart, saying goodbye after 3 short days of basking in Baby's total radiance. 3 sweet days.
Had lunch in town with friends, then subjected myself to an intense but short and focused shopping trip: flippers, snorkel, mask, waterproof diving pouch for keys and wallet, a sunshirt so I don't scorch my back while snorkeling, sandals, a tiny umbrella, a collection of Steinbeck short novels, some Hemingway, a bag of apples and oranges. I got in and out quickly, but even so... it's a bit of a horror show out there. Humans at their greediest, rudest, most impatient. Boxing week is just depressing beyond belief. I'm not depressed, hurray, thank God, but still very aware of the pitiful hollowness that balloons after the big anticlimax of Christmas Day. So many people looking over-sated, apathetic, disappointed... am I just projecting this? I sat waiting for the bus, and a homeless man came up to me and asked, after a lengthy preamble, if I'd give him some money. I offered him my apples and oranges, and he turned them down politely and moved on. I watched as every other person shook their heads at him coldly before he could even start his spiel; a man behind me cracked an ignorant joke. Mm, the radiant spirit of Christmas. I walk by many beggars on the street, and do nothing to help - it feels awful and I hate it. But if I am approached by anyone who has something to say, I will listen. Can't we at least afford each other that much respect? How quickly people must lose their faith in mankind, when they are treated like criminals, like dogs, ignored and waved away. There's a girl who comes by that bus stop often. She's homeless, smells and looks terrible, has rotten teeth, sores all over her face, glassy eyes... I gave her some money once, so she always tries me for a handout. She looks disappointed if I say no, but will sit and talk to me for a while, and I just would like to take her home, bathe and feed her, give her a soft bed and clean clothes, take her to the dentist and the doctor, give her a job, say, with horses, surround her with kind people, give her a bloody chance. I don't follow any religion and have mixed feelings about any kind of dogma, but I really think that we are painfully lacking in spirituality, even basic ethical code. Any kind of belief in a power 'greater than oneself' tends to make people feel more connected to each other, maybe even be more concerned for each other's welfare. The absence of it makes these de-religionized holidays so bizarrely satirical, at least in these bull-fighting arenas of super-sale-blowouts and frantic gift exchanges...

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Thursday, December 23, 2010

hell yes

...just discovered that Kaki King is playing in Vancouver on March 12. Right after I get home. This is stupidly awesome! God, I wonder if she'll get my letter before then.

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Sunday, December 19, 2010

They say everything is Blues

Something that is always interesting, as an artist, is how people try to compare your work to someone else's. Everyone does this - I do this - it's just natural to want to relate somehow, through something you already know. Sometimes the comparisons make me happy; most often they don't make any sense to me. Sometimes they infuriate me. Musicians I've never heard of, or I've never listened to, or worse of all, musicians I can't stand. Lots of singer songwriters play the piano. But with almost all of them, and I say this factually, it's arpeggiated simple chords, plunky triads on the quarter, 8th notes on the last beat and a half - sometimes syncopated, the occasional 'dramatic' 7th added in, major for happy and minor for sad, repetitive and predictable. Sitting in doctor's waiting rooms, standing in line at the grocery store, there it is, over and over and over and over again. I IV I IV I IV ad nauseum, and then a I VI II V I in the chorus. My GOD!
So look, I'm just gonna say it. I am not a Tori Amos fan. Never have been. Never could get through an album. (No disrespect.) Sarah McLachlan, not a fan anymore. "Fumbling towards Ecstacy" was a masterpiece and I'll never stop loving it, but most everything after that doesn't do it for me. But people compare me to those 2 women all the time. I'm hoping that's just because it's their only point of reference. Because honestly, there ain't NOTHING in my music that resembles what they do. People say, 'No, I definitely hear some Tori Amos in your music.' No man, no you don't. There is no Tori Amos in my music, because I have never listened to Tori Amos, have never liked Tori Amos, would not ever have been influenced by Tori Bloody Amos. Dig?
All right, rant over.
I have 4 major female songwriting heros: Kaki King, PJ Harvey, Joanna Newsom, and Bjork.
Kaki King: A kind of demon guitarist and songwriter, the antithesis of primping diva. She writes the most beautiful, complex, moving music. Not pretty - but really beautiful in the larger sense - to the senses and all the other faculties that have no name. I have spent so many hours walking around this island with her music in my ears. First time I heard her, I remember being hit by a kind of stunned dumbness. Cause there just ain't nobody to compare her to. Watch this: Kaki King and more Kaki King
PJ Harvey: a through-and-through authentic irreverent un-self-conscious performer. She doesn't write music to please - it makes me happy to listen to her music even when I don't like it, because it's just so her own. She delivers everything with total, raw conviction. She's a little scary too. I like women that are scary. PJ Harvey - rid of me
PJ Harvey - the piano
Joanna Newsom: this woman is no slouch. Epic, dream-like songs, bizarre and floridly ballsy. Brilliant poetry. Her voice is strange and captivating, and her 1st 2 albums gave me hundreds of hours of totally enraptured listening. I'm not in love with her latest album, but I'm okay with not always enjoying or getting what I want from artists. She deserves her freedom- and what the hell do I know? But just listen to this: Joanna Newsom. So excited to see what she'll do next.
Bjork: it's obvious. She's a genre of music unto herself. She's Queen of some unnamed country. I actually cannot listen to her very much anymore, because most of her songs are time capsules that take me back to really heavy potent times in my teenage years, when I listened to her constantly. The instrumentation, her voice, ah God - it was all a revolution. Bjork
And an honourable mention goes to...
Fiona Apple: where did she go? I suspect/worry/have this feeling that she hasn't been well. Her album "When the Pawn" was amazing, but since then I feel she's been the victim of overzealous producers. The arrangements are ridiculous, just not good. The piano lost its role, drowned out by fluttery flutes, too much percussion etc. I hope she finds herself again - she can be such a powerful performer. This was a good year for Fiona: Fiona Apple

Other musicians that I am owe a lot of influence to: Brad Mehldau, Neko Case, Jeff Buckley, Keith Jarrett, Tom Waits, Nina Simone, Leonard Cohen, Esbjorn Svensson, Tin Hat, Billy Holiday, Nick Drake, Edith Piaf, Siouxsie Sioux, Alice Babs, Bad Plus, Billy Strayhorn, Andrew Bird, Radiohead, Astor Piazzolla, Avishai Cohen, Pinback, Death Cab, Stravinsky, Ravel, Part, Grieg, Faure, Debussy, Schumann, Whitacre, Scriabin, Bach, Rachmaninoff, Villa-Lobos, Barber, Mozart, Reich, Copland, Glass, Brahms.
Feeling somewhat better today. It's been nice to have time/the excuse just to lie in bed and watch youtube videos of my favourite musicians - get all stoked up with ideas and inspiration. By the way, today is Monday, not Sunday as this post says. Which means I only have 2 days of work left before holidays, and then my trip. Crazy. I have a couple of musical goals for my time away. One is to re-learn my pieces on a small, portable, non-weighted-keys keyboard (surprisingly, no small task), and to play standing up. This'll be weird when I've had 25 years of sitting at a piano. I also want to play at least one gig while I'm there, with said keyboard, in said position, but it's not manditory. My other goal of course is to write more music. Some people have been saying that my lyrics are very very dark and that they'd like to hear me write a happy song. Well, I've tried. But fuck that. Writing 'dark' songs makes me happy, so there. Everyone loves darkness - it's at least half of what we are.

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Saturday, December 18, 2010

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
Have you heard this? It's actually a legitimate sentence in English. 3 different uses of the word: Buffalo (city), buffalo (the animal) and buffalo (the verb= bully). If you add in the unnecessary articles, it suddenly makes sense:
The Buffalo buffalo (that other) Buffalo buffalo bully, (themselves) bully Buffalo buffalo.
Whoever thought of this is brilliant. I love this kind of stuff. Nerding out!
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You must have heard of this blog, '1000 awesome things.' I just found it today and I like it. Somebody discovered how good it feels to make gratitude lists. I do that sometimes when I'm in a dark hole and it does help. There's an infinite supply of good stuff in life, and the more you notice, the more there seems to be. Here are 10 awesome things I like today, and they're not very exciting but yes, super awesome:
1. Apple lime juice
2. Tylenol
3. Hot toddies & whiskey with an ice cube
4. Having someone around to fetch you things
5. Crazy-ass dreams that leave you with weird but interesting feelings for the people in them
6. Kids' cereal
7. The soft and wet sound of rain
8. A phone that doesn't ring
9. The big couch
10. This guy: maru the stunt cat
Nrrr, nrr, nrr nrr nrrrr, Into the Depth !!!!

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The waves just knocked me over

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Warming up to it

I'm afraid I just can't help myself. I'm crazed with anticipation. My beloved BC coastal wilderness, I will miss you. I will miss those misty moist mossy lungs of the Earth. I almost can't believe anything else exists right now. But I am hungry, hungry, hungry for sunshine - I hope I'm not being a traitor to my native land. These pictures are from my first, solo trip to Maui. I just had to cry when I arrived there, because it is so impossibly beautiful - the air just wraps you up in sweet rich life.

Just imagine the way this sand feels underfoot. You can't. It's too soft for words. It's so fine it actually becomes part of your skin. You almost can't wash it off.

Look at these trees! Just look at these amazing peg-leg roots! Like some kind of crazy cartoon.

One of the north-shore beaches at dusk - 2 blocks away from the Monastery I stayed at.

Sugar cane fields line the roads in Paia. Everything has this golden hue - both from the sun and from the red-brown soil that works its way over every surface.

The coastline along the Road to Hana. Thick, dense jungle. Sheer cliffs dropping down to the sea.

Upcountry, heading up the slopes toward the volcano. Ranch lands, views of the other islands in the distance. Goat farms, lavender fields, hillsides covered in tufts of something that looked like heather, like some tropical version of the Scottish highlands.

Black sand beach - so hot!

The Stupa at the Tibetan monastery where I stayed, lit up in celebration of Buddha's birthday. Which is different all over the world. (It's the full moon day of the sixth month of the Buddhist lunar calendar, which would be the fourth month of the Chinese calendar, except in years in which there's an extra full moon, and then Buddha's birthday falls in the seventh month, except where it starts a week earlier. In Tibet it's usually a month later; in Japan, Buddha's Birthday always is April 8.... ?!)

The western mountains, on the hot, dry side of the island. Pineapple and mango plantations line the roads.

Pewter light.


A little bit scared. Though it was the one and only shark sign I saw on the island.

Front of the little monastery. There were cats, and bunches of apple bananas hanging outside the doors. Kind, kind people. And Huge harmless spiders. I'll go visit when I'm there.

When I'm there... When I'm there... When I'm there...

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Monday, December 13, 2010

Well, well

I am an optimistic person. I don't understand pessimism; I'm not a cynic or a skeptic and never have been.
The other day I had a conversation with a friend about optimism, and hope versus delusion. We both have had 'wishes' come true in our lives many times and we both believe in the big 'Possibilities' of the Universe. And we both have big dreams. The question is, (to paraphrase my friend)"how do you let yourself dream big without setting yourself up for disappointment?"
Hmm. I didn't have much of an answer then, and I still don't now. It's one hell of a fine line. I have ambitions that I am afraid to speak aloud, for fear of offending the Universe with my audacity. If I realize, at some ripe old age, that those ambitions were a fool's dream, will I be broken and dissatisfied with my life?
I dunno... I don't think that can happen - or at least, I'm determined that it won't. I'm possessed with a crazy sense of inevitability right now. It's the sense that surely something will come of my efforts and my dreams. It's not really a hope. I'm not hoping for anything concrete - that would be the setup for failure. I think the Universe needs room to manoeuvre. I don't understand how or why things seem to line up in the cosmos at the right time and place to make certain miracles happen, but I know that it's too much of a mystery to give it deadlines or requirements. I wouldn't want to narrow the possibilities by asking for something too specific anyways. I also know that in order for something to happen, my actions have to give it an opening. I have to have faith in the imminent unfolding of actions and reactions. If I plant enough seeds, something will grow; creation is the most basic law of this world.
Maybe it's just about finding a balance between having the openness of vast possibility, without grasping at specific outcomes...
I write this, thinking about the tinge of disappointment I felt after my show the other night. I tried not to have any hopes or expectations. Well, how realistic is that? I believe what I said about my optimism, but my thoughts and feelings don't always pay attention to my beliefs. Good thing thoughts and feelings are fleeting. I still believe what I believe, even after a bumpy ride. Something will grow. Something has to grow.

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Sunday, December 12, 2010

The big little CD release

The thing is, you just can't anticipate what an audience will be like, and you just never can know what people are thinking or feeling. There were people at my show that I was really pleasantly surprised to see. But I didn't get to talk to most of them post-concert. They came, they left, and I'll probably never hear from them about what they thought. I don't like that part very much. Only one person has emailed me since then with feedback. (Thanks, SB!) Many people who promised to come didn't come. I don't like that part so much either. It's hard, hard, hard, being a performer and a really sensitive person to boot. On the other hand: I loved performing; I was relaxed and on my game and the band rocked it hard. If I could re-stage it, I just would go for a more intimate venue - the audience felt far away, and I couldn't connect with them. They were politely attentive, but reserved. It was not a great feeling. I was talking to my bass player about this, and he said, "Look man, your music just isn't all that accessible." (Well, except for 2 of my songs, he did concede.) "There's a lot of layers - it takes a few listens to know what the hell is going on." True, it's not love-at-first-listen kind of stuff. Which is hard to remember when I've played it 5000 times and it seems dead simple and obvious to me. I suppose I really just need to find my audience. I wouldn't expect my friends and family to enjoy 95% of the music I really love and listen to, so why would I expect them to love the music I write?
Well, c'est la vie. I nearly broke even for the show, and passed out a lot of CDs. And most importantly, I'm getting more and more connected to the people who make that "95% of the music I love" that the average person doesn't like. The next step: get the album reviewed. Build press. Just stay calm and carry on.

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Horses

I'm reading Cormac McCarthy border trilogy now. Guess I've got horses on the brain. No, in the brain. Wild horses. My brain is overrun with feral, skittery horses. Lots and lots of time spent taming and training them. There are horses who've been there my whole life and are still ornery old bastards, but mellowing out with time. Then there are horses who come in, raise shit, and finally get chased out by the others. Some horses wander in and settle down right away - have a calming effect on all the others. It's a crazy herd, all right. On a good day, when they're all harnessed up, they can pull me with the force of a jet engine, anywhere I want to go. But a freak storm makes 'em bolt, frantic, pulling in a thousand different directions, and then it's sheer hell to bring them each home, calm them, talk them down. There were a few forks of lightning on Friday night and my herd scattered like bats out of hell. Just reigning them back in now, one by one.

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Thursday, December 9, 2010

Defragging

One theory I have heard about dreaming is that it's the brain's way of defragging. This makes sense to me. I tend to have a similar cast of characters, and similar settings in my dreams these days. But the scenarios change drastically. I'm thinking about last night's dreams, and the shift in tone. Yesterday's conversations, and the thoughts they provoked, made enough of an impact on my mind that even in sleep my brain was trying to adjust my outlook to reflect these new ideas. I am totally fascinated by the brain. If I had to pick another career I think I'd be a neurologist. If just one little thing changes in, say, our 'belief' system, think of how many thousands of situations we have to adjust to. I just think it's very exciting when you can see/feel this in action, watch it happening in your dreams.
Show tomorrow.... people only seem to rsvp when they can't make it. So lots of people aren't coming, that's all I know. But I don't mind. They already know me, know some of my music. My only real hope is that there will be some people there that I don't know - fresh, unbiased listeners. That's the scary shit. That's real.
As I'm sitting here, my cat is behind me on the couch, biting my head. He's a real biter, once he realizes that you can take it. Ouch, now he has my ear. I trust him, though. We all show our affection in different ways. I feel like I could easily let myself write for hours this morning. A lot of blogging backed-up, lots of things to say. But I've got to practice.

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Sunday, December 5, 2010

the cave

Every day the light is different in the morning. Today, there is a veil of pale yellow over the mountains, a soft mist reflecting the sunlight. Everything is tinged with a saffron-grey hue... except, now it's gone. It changes so quickly.
Yesterday, I walked to a new beach, and found a cave. It's not very deep, but still magical - and only accessible at low tide. It felt so warm and safe - I wanted to make a little home there. But the tide was coming in, so I crept out on some rocks and found a smooth place to stretch out, just barely out of the reach of the waves - and with nothing but the open sea before and below me. Bright sun, a thousand liquid sounds, brief visits by sleep. Nothing lacking in a complete happiness - which to me is a sense, not only of pleasure, but of both stillness and flight, ease and unattachment. The ocean somehow takes me over... my whole being reflects its basic nature, becomes liquid and unseparate from every molecule, spread out and shifting over thousands of miles, with no need for direction or worry of fate.

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Saturday, December 4, 2010

the flock

The Gods know how to do it, all right, to give me what I need when I need it most. Sure enough, here I have a day off at last, and it's a perfect winter day out there waiting for me like a patient suitor. For this girl, what a dreamy date - warm sun on my face, sweet wind songs in my ears, all the huge universe right above my head to converse with.
I can rest up this weekend, now that I've cleared off the heavy work-load, and really just play. I'll have to do a bunch of practicing, but it'll be fun and easy, just keeping things fresh for my show next week. The CDs are finished, stacked in boxes in my room. They look beautiful, and I smile everytime I look at them, knowing each package has an unknown fate. Each is like a carrier pidgeon, with potential to take some kind of a message.... to someone.
That's all for now - my legs are itching to move.

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Wednesday, December 1, 2010

My grandmother makes more money than you do

Well well-a-well,
I printed off the last sheet and got to the post office 5 minutes before closing, got the precious post-date stamp, got the grant application out of my hair. Then I went next door and spent 10 dollars on gourmet chocolate for dinner. Well well-a-well, I think I deserve it. I ate some on the way home and laughed out loud when I heard myself think, "This is it, baby. You're an artist. This is your life." Jesus Mary & Joseph - so it is.
Now I get an hour of lying-around-reading-Bukowski time. Nothing takes the edge off a grant-writing-hangover like Bukoswki. Real plain, real dirty.
"You and your typewriter. You and your tiny checks. My grandmother makes more money than you do!"
This is it, baby.
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