beautiful, funny, sad & true

Guess who got a DVD of Metalocalpyse the other night? Thank you, Maddy!

She’s the one who told me about the show, and that I needed to see it. I watched a couple of episodes online, thinking it would be kind of a guilty pleasure, but I got hooked on it and ended up watching every single episode before they got pulled off of WebSiteLikeTV. I’m not going to lie; I love the show. It’s a cartoon about a fictitious heavy metal band called Dethklok. It’s hilarious, and gruesome, and completely brilliant. And now I have the DVD, so I can watch it any time, and share it with friends too. I suppose that by now you’re probably familiar with the function of DVD’s, so maybe that last sentence was superfluous, but enh. . .I stand by my choice. Last night I found used copies of Once and Paris Je T’aime, so that was nice, too, but ohmygosh. Can’t get enough of the trials and tribulations of Dethklok.

Tonight is the play reading group, and tomorrow is a Breanna gig, but what I’m really looking forward to this week is working with Andrea on her CD up in the little town of Welches all weekend. We’re going to attempt to finish all of my instrumental parts. Keep your fingers crossed. Among other things, this will involve loading a ridiculous amount of amps and guitars and keyboards and other things into my little Honda. If it’s really comedic, I’ll be sure to get pictures of it. I wish I had a picture of the back seat of Lara’s car filled with a bunch of my instruments during the Dirty Martini recording sessions. We had to roll down the window, and drive around with the cello case sticking out. That was a classic moment.

Finally, I can share with you one of the new songs that I’ve played on recently.

It’s a beautiful song by Bryn Loosely called “Please”, and it’s from his soon-to-be-released album called “The Wrecker.” I played electric guitar, xylophone (which I just found out the other day is not a xylophone, but is in fact a large glockenspiel), and cello on this particular song.

Check it out!

The weekend was great, but today I’m struggling a bit to keep my head above the metaphorical waterline. I got some troubling news from a friend yesterday, and some even more troubling second-hand news about another friend today. I’m a bit anxious about all of this, and I hope everything turns out okay with both of them.

Both of the gigs this past weekend were fantastic, and very different from each other. Breanna’s was one of the few where I finally felt really good about my cello playing, after doing it for three and a half years now. Crystin’s was really fun because it just felt like coming home again. Everyone who performed was a close friend who I haven’t seen in months, or sometimes even years. The gig was even at the MississippiPizzaPub, which is where Crystin and the band cut our proverbial teeth, and played more than anywhere else. I’ve probably played there with her at least fifty times. One of my friends from Seattle came to the show, and as a surprise she brought some of my other friends from here to the show as well.

In other news, I spent much of yesterday doing some more research for my 80’s Röck series, which is to say I dinked around online for most of the day while I did a few loads of laundry. I think Yacht Rock has got to be one of the funniest things I’ve seen in ages.

I’m looking for a typewriter to use. If you have one, and I can use it, can you please leave me a comment or something? I have an idea for a picture, and it involves the use of a typewriter. Please and thank you!

Had an interesting discussion the other night about introverts vs. extroverts. One guy was saying how he used to be such an extrovert that he couldn’t even relate to introverts. The other guy–who turned out to be a missionary–said that he would never dream of hiring an introvert for a missionary. . .um. . .position. (I swear I didn’t intend to write that!) After thinking about it for a while–I am an introvert, after all–it occurred to me that C.S. Lewis is possibly one of the best-known and best-loved missionaries (of a certain type) of all time, but he certainly wasn’t an extrovert. He just quietly wrote stories and novels that explained his viewpoint, which then sent beautiful ripples throughout the world. So I guess what I’m saying is that there’s room for all types.

Religion–even this tiny bit–is a very rare subject for me to write about here, to be sure. Enjoy it while you can.

Okay, so that good story I was promising.

I’m not quite sure how to tell it, but it involves two accordions and a member of the Decemberists.

So at the show on Friday, there were three groups. The first was a group from Alaska, the second was Susie and the band, and the headlining band was the person whose CD release party it was. I was quite happily surprised to find out that DecemberistsAccordionist was playing in the headlining band, because I think she’s really great, and finally I’d get the chance to meet her and tell her so. It’s also gratifying, in a different way, because I get the chance to be on par with lots of the people who I’ve looked up to for a long time, as a participant instead of merely an observer. Making good connections and new friendships like that is always a great feeling.

Accordions are like cellos, in that they’re fairly uncommon, and people tend to use only their own for years on end. Whenever you get the opportunity to play someone else’s, you tend to take it. She wanted to try my accordion, and I wanted to try hers too, so we did, and it was really fun. She’s got a really nice one too; very small and light and easy to play, and sounds very much like a musette. Mine’s huge and heavy, but it has a wider variety of sound possibilities.

There was an impromptu bluegrass jam session happening backstage in the green room, involving DecemberistsGuitarist, DecemberistsAccordionist, MississippiStudiosJim and a really amazing girl fiddle player. I could have listened to that all night. CellistSkip joined them too, and then they asked for different songs. I was sitting and listening–not playing, because there was already an accordionist involved–and then Skip started playing “Comfortably Numb” by HugelyFamousPinkEnglishBand. I grabbed my accordion then, and started to play the really high violin part, in harmony with what Skip was doing. Super fun and hilarious. The real show always takes place backstage.

By then the first band had finished, and it was Susie’s turn to play, so we went out onstage. Sounded great and felt great, but on about the third song, one of my accordion straps broke. I ran off stage and grabbed a chair to sit on, but it was still pretty much impossible to play. The song came to an end, and I told Susie what was up, and ran offstage again. She started to tell a story, I think. I don’t really remember, to tell you the truth. I was too busy freaking out.

Jim took a look and said, “Maybe we can fix it,” but we couldn’t. It had snapped in the fatal spot. I asked for DecemberistsAccordionist, but she was nowhere to be seen. Someone went and found her, and she very generously allowed me to use her instrument for the remainder of the show. Extra special mega-thanks to her for saving the day.

Tonight I’m taking it to the repair shop for some new straps. Can’t live without the accordion at all; it’s my bread and butter instrument, and yes, I do know which side the butter goes on.

Saturday I drove up to EmeraldCity to play guitar with Brandon and the band. It was really fun, as usual. His mom happened to be in town. I didn’t recognize her at first–it HAS been fifteen years, after all–but she refreshed my memory, and she’s a really sweet lady. So our first two sets were flawless, but by the third set, my pedalboard started acting up and losing power. Sheesh! Two weeks ago, the metal screw that tightens the hair on the cello bow broke. Friday it was the accordion strap. Saturday, the pedalboard was freaking out. What’s next?? Never mind, GearGoblins, I don’t want to know.

After the show, the three of us went to FamousRestaurantThatRhymesWithPennies. I got back to LittleBrothersHouse at 3:30 a.m. It was a really great time all around.

My mom was also at LittleBrothersHouse this weekend, and I haven’t seen her for a few months. It was a really good–if short–visit, and you’ll be glad to know that on Sunday we made Mister T sandwiches. I swear those things are going to catch on.

CatZooey is back with her owner now. It was great to have her staying here, but it’s also nice to have my place back. I spent last night cleaning like a maniac. I still have more to do, but it’s quite an improvement over the way this place has been lately.

So yeah; quite a weekend, indeed. Here’s to plenty more just like it.

It’s 11:30 p.m., and it’s a very stormy night.

Nights like tonight are the nights that I really miss my old Taylor House apartment. You know, the one on the third floor of the hundred-year-old mansion. The one with the beautiful views of the city from three different directions. The one that I could watch fireworks downtown during the Rose Festival, the Starlight Parade, and on Independence Day. The one from which I watched almost every single sunset. The one that I called the Rock Star Factory. The one in which I learned how to play the accordion and the cello. The one in which I learned how to become a recording engineer and producer. The one in which I went from being a regular guy with a crappy job to a really talented guy doing what he was meant to do with his life. Basically, it was the place I lived when I learned how to do (and to be) all of the things that I’m doing (and becoming) now.

On stormy nights like tonight, the wind would beat the rain against all of the windows, and threaten to blow the roof off of the building, and I loved every minute of it. In fact, the more the wind howled, the more I enjoyed it. I would crack the window open, turn off all of the lights, turn off all of the music, light a candle or two, and just listen to the wind. I’d sit at the window and look out over the lights of downtown, or, on the warmer stormy nights, I’d stand outside on the fire escape, drinking a glass of wine, daring the wind to blow me down.

I wish I would’ve had a camera back then, because the sunsets alone were priceless. But then there are the countless memories of Katrina Petrovisky-Mouskewicz (the best cat ever), Amber and her fearless blind cat Kati and her mischievous rat Hannah, Craig, Kevin, Jeri, Meechai, Pelsang and the constantly rotating crowd of Tibetans, Erika, Daniel and the constantly rotating crowd of Brazilians, Henry, Morgan, Kristi, Amanda and Simon; the house parties until 4:00 a.m., Decemberists sing-alongs until the wee hours, mix CD’s which I still cherish and enjoy to this day, Jake and Skip flicking cigarettes from the fire escape to the street below, endless hours of recording my parts for Crystin Byrd’s “My Silence” CD, S.S. Flint and her pencil drawing, Jaime and Becky’s “Bus Song” and “12 Step”, rolling up the rug and recording the sound of Laurena the flamenco dancer weaving her magic spell, playing the cello badly while Andrea played the piano beautifully, climbing onto the roof for no reason at all, reading in the sun on the fire escape, seeing BoringFish again, walking with my guitars to the recording sessions at Jackpot, and a myriad of other things.

Here are some pictures of the apartment and me at the time. I have more, but they’re not on this computer. The best ones of all are the ones in my mind, anyway. The two gables on the right (top floor) are that apartment. Yes, I had a fireplace. And yes, I used it often.

I lived there for three and a half years, from when I was 30 and change to when I was 34. Moving out of there, while it wasn’t easy, was the right thing to do at the time. Sure was sad, though. It was by far my favorite place that I’ve ever lived, and I fully appreciated it the whole time I was there. I look back on it fondly as the place that I lived during the biggest changes of my entire life.

LoveItLoveItLoveItMissItLoveIt.

[edit: Incidentally, my gesture in the bottom picture has prompted a few questions. Since Crystin Byrd is the one who took that picture, I was doing an imitation of something our bass player and his girlfriend at the time used to do, which was to randomly make that face and gesture, and at the same time make the sound of a hissing cobra. It was very funny, and they would do it all the time. They might sneak up on each other in the kitchen, or it could be just as likely to happen when they were sitting and watching a movie. They could do it in a romantic and funny way too.

So there you have it. Not that it’s going to make any more sense, but at least you know the context, and that it’s not a “Hey, baby, lemme grab ya” expression or anything.]