Monday, October 29
Sometimes a group of people form a nexus around which a certain period of time seems to orbit, during which time they seem to occupy a supranormal portion of each other's worldspace. That is, this lonely planet collides with another network of individuals and for a short time we appear to be more closely linked than we actually are. This weekend I found myself constantly in the company of the lodge two residents (Bobby, Nate, Dave) and the girls (Jessie, Elena.) Not all that constantly actually, just enough that I felt their presence. A lot of it has to do with this site, which is still a novelty to them and which they frequently bring up in conversation. For some reason it's wearying, I'm not sure why.
Anyway, this was the group that seemed to applaud most vociferously during our performance last night, which makes me a bit apprehensive because I couldn't get past this layer of unconditional support (which as nice as it is was based more on friendship than on the music) and get a sense of what sorts of more objective responses we were evoking. Perhaps that will be forthcoming. Rebecca said something about the performance having its good and bad points, but she has yet to elaborate. Other than that though, I have heard markedly little criticism. The compliments that stuck with we most were from Corey (one of the sweetest people I know; he said something about our music, even though it was rough, being "the kind of thing that just grabs you") and Chang (the baddest motherfucker on campus, when he is on campus, with a Matador recording contract, who told me "you have everything it takes to be a great musician." Even ambition, which I suggested was lacking. He suggested concentration, which is probably true, but I'm not sure exactly how he meant it - perhaps focusing my attention to a smaller number of instruments, or perhaps just the group focus required, for instance, to end songs in a less sloppy manner. Jessie said "that doesn't sound like a compliment." But it was.)
Before each group went on, I led them through a talk-down of the set, in the Adam Rogers tradition. (I'm not sure if it had not occurred to them to do this, but I stepped in to make it happen.) I think this kind of regrouping before a performance is incredibly important, although less so in a case like this when excitement rather than anxiety prevails. Before going through the arrangements, the Keller Method each revealed our costumes. Corey was Bootsy, as Jason identified on first try, and he looked fabulous. Leaya was a sleek cat, Jeff a ski-bum, me Waldo once more, without the camera this time. Jason had his face covered with a handkerchief, and introduced himself as Kadava Darachina, which Jeff found a bit unsettling. I feel bad about Jason; he seems like a neat guy, and I always find myself trying to get him to do something differently, just being assertive since nobody else in the band has a mind to. That's true of the group in general; I find myself taking a marked leadership role just for the sake of efficiency in rehearsals. I think they understand why, but it still makes me feel a bit guilty. Unlike usual, I experienced the concert quite cogently and patiently, rather than having it all whiz by quickly. However, I still want to record it just as a series of experiences:
Lovefool I spent trying to keep the split option on on the PSR, before I realized that the voice preset affects that feature as well; I missed a lot of the things I try to do, but at least I got the Frankie Valli lick in . . . as I stripped down to the sleeveless striped shirt, donned a beret, strapped on the accordion (the straps needed a last minute re-tying), I heard somebody in the front row saying "oh that's so cute" "is he really going to play it?" . . . I didn't even barely screw up the chords, thanks to my brilliant idea to stick tape on the E and F buttons . . . as I sat on the throne I looked down at Corey's shoes and felt immensely comforted by them . . . by the middle of Sour Times I was able to hit the double bass in the middle of the second measure of the pattern with much greater frequency . . . the d+b at the end went pretty well, and it turned into a solo at the end of the song . . . Close to Me rocked, very groovy and fun to play . . . the regrouping for Inflight was much more tense; it was out the back door, and Joel seemed anxious about getting on before people grew more impatient, or maybe he was just anxious about playing . . . it felt like such an arrival as we started into IFA, and it all went so well, especially the orbiting vocals building to a pitch when the bottom dropped out . . . until the end, which was fairly muddled . . . I gave my planned intro to take-off, talking about when i wrote each part of the lyrics ("I haven't written the 3rd verse yet") - I sang "Get Me Away from Here" instead . . . I came into my grinning demure wide-eyed little boy persona . . . I could barely hear my singing - was I in tune? could anyone hear the lyrics? . . . Matt and I couldn't decide how to end it . . . safe again back behind the drums, with Alan at my side, Lullaby went well, although it could have grooved more . . . the waltz sections were fast, and I didn't emphasize the three much - more of a 6/8 afro thing . . . everyone seemed to love "radical honesty," which was no surprise. again, my flute was probably out of tune. copies of the lyrics were circulating. i forgot the swing chorus, but then i played it anyway. and then it was over.
Most everyone I've talked to had positive comments (Erik: "pretty good set, ross. what was the name of that last song? radical on a stick?). It made me feel pretty okay. I had a good time. LTD (Erik and Dan Consiglio's tribute to Pigface) rocked the house in the way that only an SK1, a drum machine, a little box with lots of twiddly knobs, a Miss Piggy one-note override keyboard, and a gold plastic pig can. I still don't think I would have much patience for that kind of music (screamy industrial) on record, but it is sure cool live. I foolishly stayed for the Warriors, who did typically so-so renditions of Dave Matthews, U2, Nirvana, two Radiohead tunes (how 90s can you get?), and a long but occasionally interesting instrumental jam, mostly between Corey and Ranmal. More people showed up (Bryn, Amy, Kate) although more had left. I put my tambourine around my head and walked home.
I realized that I had left the milk in Rubin's car, so we walked to C lot to retrieve it. Of course, I took in the one bag of groceries that I saw, which did not include the milk. As far as I know, it's still in his trunk. Or else someone took it for the concert. Either way, I discovered something interesting this morning: cereal (at least oatmeal squares) in cold water is really good.
let the wind take your troubles away
Anyway, this was the group that seemed to applaud most vociferously during our performance last night, which makes me a bit apprehensive because I couldn't get past this layer of unconditional support (which as nice as it is was based more on friendship than on the music) and get a sense of what sorts of more objective responses we were evoking. Perhaps that will be forthcoming. Rebecca said something about the performance having its good and bad points, but she has yet to elaborate. Other than that though, I have heard markedly little criticism. The compliments that stuck with we most were from Corey (one of the sweetest people I know; he said something about our music, even though it was rough, being "the kind of thing that just grabs you") and Chang (the baddest motherfucker on campus, when he is on campus, with a Matador recording contract, who told me "you have everything it takes to be a great musician." Even ambition, which I suggested was lacking. He suggested concentration, which is probably true, but I'm not sure exactly how he meant it - perhaps focusing my attention to a smaller number of instruments, or perhaps just the group focus required, for instance, to end songs in a less sloppy manner. Jessie said "that doesn't sound like a compliment." But it was.)
Before each group went on, I led them through a talk-down of the set, in the Adam Rogers tradition. (I'm not sure if it had not occurred to them to do this, but I stepped in to make it happen.) I think this kind of regrouping before a performance is incredibly important, although less so in a case like this when excitement rather than anxiety prevails. Before going through the arrangements, the Keller Method each revealed our costumes. Corey was Bootsy, as Jason identified on first try, and he looked fabulous. Leaya was a sleek cat, Jeff a ski-bum, me Waldo once more, without the camera this time. Jason had his face covered with a handkerchief, and introduced himself as Kadava Darachina, which Jeff found a bit unsettling. I feel bad about Jason; he seems like a neat guy, and I always find myself trying to get him to do something differently, just being assertive since nobody else in the band has a mind to. That's true of the group in general; I find myself taking a marked leadership role just for the sake of efficiency in rehearsals. I think they understand why, but it still makes me feel a bit guilty. Unlike usual, I experienced the concert quite cogently and patiently, rather than having it all whiz by quickly. However, I still want to record it just as a series of experiences:
Lovefool I spent trying to keep the split option on on the PSR, before I realized that the voice preset affects that feature as well; I missed a lot of the things I try to do, but at least I got the Frankie Valli lick in . . . as I stripped down to the sleeveless striped shirt, donned a beret, strapped on the accordion (the straps needed a last minute re-tying), I heard somebody in the front row saying "oh that's so cute" "is he really going to play it?" . . . I didn't even barely screw up the chords, thanks to my brilliant idea to stick tape on the E and F buttons . . . as I sat on the throne I looked down at Corey's shoes and felt immensely comforted by them . . . by the middle of Sour Times I was able to hit the double bass in the middle of the second measure of the pattern with much greater frequency . . . the d+b at the end went pretty well, and it turned into a solo at the end of the song . . . Close to Me rocked, very groovy and fun to play . . . the regrouping for Inflight was much more tense; it was out the back door, and Joel seemed anxious about getting on before people grew more impatient, or maybe he was just anxious about playing . . . it felt like such an arrival as we started into IFA, and it all went so well, especially the orbiting vocals building to a pitch when the bottom dropped out . . . until the end, which was fairly muddled . . . I gave my planned intro to take-off, talking about when i wrote each part of the lyrics ("I haven't written the 3rd verse yet") - I sang "Get Me Away from Here" instead . . . I came into my grinning demure wide-eyed little boy persona . . . I could barely hear my singing - was I in tune? could anyone hear the lyrics? . . . Matt and I couldn't decide how to end it . . . safe again back behind the drums, with Alan at my side, Lullaby went well, although it could have grooved more . . . the waltz sections were fast, and I didn't emphasize the three much - more of a 6/8 afro thing . . . everyone seemed to love "radical honesty," which was no surprise. again, my flute was probably out of tune. copies of the lyrics were circulating. i forgot the swing chorus, but then i played it anyway. and then it was over.
Most everyone I've talked to had positive comments (Erik: "pretty good set, ross. what was the name of that last song? radical on a stick?). It made me feel pretty okay. I had a good time. LTD (Erik and Dan Consiglio's tribute to Pigface) rocked the house in the way that only an SK1, a drum machine, a little box with lots of twiddly knobs, a Miss Piggy one-note override keyboard, and a gold plastic pig can. I still don't think I would have much patience for that kind of music (screamy industrial) on record, but it is sure cool live. I foolishly stayed for the Warriors, who did typically so-so renditions of Dave Matthews, U2, Nirvana, two Radiohead tunes (how 90s can you get?), and a long but occasionally interesting instrumental jam, mostly between Corey and Ranmal. More people showed up (Bryn, Amy, Kate) although more had left. I put my tambourine around my head and walked home.
I realized that I had left the milk in Rubin's car, so we walked to C lot to retrieve it. Of course, I took in the one bag of groceries that I saw, which did not include the milk. As far as I know, it's still in his trunk. Or else someone took it for the concert. Either way, I discovered something interesting this morning: cereal (at least oatmeal squares) in cold water is really good.
let the wind take your troubles away
