Valentine’s Day At Arlene
What to say? Like that, it’s over. Valentine’s Day. The benefit show. Done, over. It’s the next morning — I broke my “daily journal” routine yesterday ‘cuz I was movin’ non-stop. So, here’s what happened, and how it felt…
I was nausious all the way downtown. I always am. Rosa was setting up her drums when I got to Arlene. Jeff showed up and we quickly line checked, but didn’t soundcheck. Once Ian, the soundman, got word of how many acts were playing (12!), he got us started. We had 20 minutes. So there I was, already, playing Em to G, singing “This Valentine / This 45 / Keeps me awake / Keeps me.”
It was a great, allbeit short.
I remembered to enjoy it.
Bright Lights & The Open Range
I am bone tired.
Been up late painting.
Been putting in long hours at the MTV. Stayed late tonight to deal with the Waylon Jennings obituary. I made a great image of him in high-contrast black and white, holding his guitar, looking towards the sky. My father was a big fan, mostly of his stuff with Willy Nelson. His passing reminds me of watching “The Electric Horseman” when I was a kid. I think we even got to see it in the theater. Robert Redford played a cowboy unwilling to be tamed by fame and bright light of Vegas.
I, of course, wanted the bright lights, and the open range.
Still do, I guess.
Everyone’s Coming Of Age
I was completely rockin’ out like Jackson Pollack last night, painting and bouncing around my apartment to “For Nancy (‘Cuz It Already Is).” I got so excited with what I was doing, with all the ideas I had, the plans for an art show/performance, all thematically linked, that I couldn’t fall asleep.
I’ve been wanting to paint on square panels for a while, at least since I started “painting” again (prior to maybe junior high school) last summer — and rectangles just weren’t cutting it. So I went to the lumberyard (right here in Hell’s Kicthen!), got 8 pieces cut to 6″x6″, spread four coats of gesso on each, and got to it. Now I’m outa’ blue.
I know nothing, really, NOTHING, about painting. I’m just figuring it out as I go, like I did with guitar (for better or worse). One minute I think I’m getting it, and I like what I’m doing, then it sucks and I wanna’ quit. Perfect. Like life. still, I’m really into it.
I went to a screening of the Britney Spears’ movie tonight. Really pretty awful, but then, when I was in the demo that’ll totally love it, I was into “Footloose,” so I was trying to cut it some flack. To its credit, it raises issues of date rape, teen pregnancy, and pre-marital sex, though without naming or showing any of it.
In a lot of ways, the story is alot like “Mo’ Hart,” the screenplay I wrote last summer and still hope to shoot with my brother. It’s basically a story about leaving home, placing your parents into some kind of context, breaking free of childhood issues, and, in the end, growing up to become a big star.
Isn’t that everyone’s coming-of-age fantasy?
Non-Stop Corporate Wanker
A non-stop corporate wanker day, excepting the 10 minutes I took to spam the mailing list about Thursday’s show, and the five minutes I spent reading E! Online’s gossip column. Looking forward to going home, playing guitar, painting and finishing “In Cold Blood.”
Creature Of Habit
It’s raining outside. Sounds cool, soothing. A better day. Woke, dealt with laundry, went for a bike ride along the Hudson. Was gray and wintery, but so nice to be out, and look up the wide river.
Back home, I let the adrenaline left over from dodging cabs on 10th Avenue motivate me to do more errands. Found the Salvation Army in my ‘hood. Went to the army/navy (closed!). Got some other stuff.
Jeff came over and we ran through the set twice. It’s a short one. We’re trying to wedge five songs into 25 minutes, which sounds easier than it is when your songs are as long as “Summer’s Gone.” Then we started figuring out some other tunes, especially Peter Gabriel’s “Digging in the Dirt,” which we both agree is genius, and would like to do someday.
Walked through the rain to West Side Sushi, where when I left, they joked “See you tomorrow!”
Guess I’m a creature of habit.
Say Anything
Night is falling on Hell’s Kitchen. It’s not been a day of terrific accomplishment. I didn’t make it to the army/navy store for pants, or Lee’s Art Supplies for blank canvas. I didn’t buy new socks, or get my laundry to the laundromat. I didn’t do anything, except a get a haircut, read a few chapters of “In Cold Blood,” and write a song.
It’s called “Say Anything.” Yes, like the movie. I was thinking of it as a Valentine, of sorts. A completely un-embarassed love song. (I don’t do much of that sorta’ thing.)
I like the verse (“Say anything, say yes, you’ll be mine / Because this silence is just killing me all the time”), and the pre-chorus (even with it’s placeholder lyrics), but I think I need to take the chorus to a darker, less poppy place.
Breaking Up With Pete Yorn
I’m in the middle of a fairly awful day. My tooth is killing me. It’s a baby tooth, a molar, one of four or five that never fell out. So they need to be pulled and replaced with implants. Neither cheap, nor fun. So, of course, I’ve been procrastinating well over a year. But it’s gone too far, and they have to come out.
Meanwhile, I’m listening to Brit Pop’s latest darlings, Starsailor, trying to break up the Pete Yorn, I’m and still, still, still not feeling it. I keep trying, but the guy’s voice annoys me for some reason. I don’t like when people sound contrived, like they’re trying to make their voice sound overly distinctive. Which is in opposition, I think, to most people’s opinion on vocals. People like Mariah Carey, for God’s sake. Britney Spears. These are not natural singing voices.
Anyway, I’ve been working on booking shows in Philly and D.C. A potential Indianapolis show fell through when I had the gall to ask whether I could be paid for my 1000 miles of travel and 30 minutes of performance. Also, I’m working on booking shows as an opening act. I’ve asked The Nields and Ellis Paul, neither of which worked out for now, but look promising for the future.
I’ve also been in touch with Julia Kent, the cellist on “Down” and “Bone” (from “Crash Site”) and really want to do a show or two with her and Rosa, one of the drummers who plays with me. That’d be amazing, and will happen eventually. Next up, though, Rosa, Jeff Domanski (on bass) and I play five songs at the God’s Love We Deliver benefit at Arlene Grocery on Valentine’s Day at 7:30. That’ll be cool.
The Soundtrack Of My life
It was cold and snowing this morning, gray outside. I woke from a dream where some girl was smiling at me amidst great flooding. I had a major headache (vodka), way back in the gray matter (where the dream came from). I was drinking coffee and reading Rolling Stone. I don’t know if it was inspiration, exactly, or the just urge to write something simple and good, but a few chords popped into my head, and on the radio they were talking about investing in gold, so I plugged my acoustic into my amp, and wrote “Golden Wings,” a big-rock mid-tempo thing.
“I’m gonna’ rise up and seize the reigns / We’re gonna’ fly on golden wings / I’ll take you / I’ll take you / Away from all of this.” I know, sounds kinda’ cheesy, and maybe it is — big rock power chords and earnest lyrics. But it felt good and hooky, and, when I recorded it onto mindisc, it clocked in at exactly 3:30 — perfect pop song length. It’ll be a good set opener at CB’s next month.
Meanwhile, in contrast to big power-chordy rock, I’ve been listening to Pete Yorn’s “musicforthemorningafter,” like, non-stop. Like Ryan Adams’ “Gold,” I fought and fought the hype, but eventually caved in and listened. And man, it’s an amazing record. He doesn’t reinvent anything, but neither do I. There are wisps of Wallflowers, or David Gray, or Dave Matthews. Bob Mould even. It’s totally melodic and rhythmic, simple but textured enough to be a process of discovery. Songs like Yorn’s “Sense” and Adams’ “Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard” are the fuel, the soundtrack to my life.
