Snake Oil For Your Butt

With only a week's notice and after not nearly enough practice, the guys and I in Silent Muse played a show last night in Richmond. _sacrosanct_, again, at the Nanci Raygun club.

We arrived on time only to discover that early show had not yet ended. Someone had the bright idea of booking (at least) five bands for a show that needed to end before 10pm. It didn't, of course. One Bullet Short of a Massacre was the headlining act, playing the kind of roaring death metal that sounds not unlike a caravan of garbage trucks driving off the edge of a high cliff. I mean that in the best possible way. I actually do love the intensity of a live metal band and didn't so much mind the wait once I had adjusted my expectations for the night's schedule.

While several dozen kids punched each other silly in the mosh pit, I stayed back and chatted with a few homeless people that hang out in this club. One guy, while not admiring my jacket and continually greeting me with a friendly knuckle-to-knuckle fist tap sort of thing, did his best impression of a very drunken James Brown getting down to the musical stylings of One Bullet and friends. Another guy told his story about living in the Nanci Raygun whenever its doors were open, but needed to find a way to keep warm on the looming cold night that would greet him once the club closed later that evening. He was not drunk and seemed to help out unloading some of the earlier bands. Apparently the club sometimes pays him for odd jobs. I offered him the fries coming with my dinner (a rather good steak wrap) because I can't handle that much carbs in one sitting, but he declined, saying he had more food than he knew what to do with in his backpack. Good for him. Clearly, he was doing his best to manipulate me into giving him some cash. I like it when people work a little for the hand-outs. Normally, this guy sings on the streets for change, but tonight he was working his charm while others sang on stage. I liked his subtle, respectful style and I enjoyed the conversation, so I handed him a few bucks later that evening.

Silent Muse was the opening act, again, for ego_likeness. As always, they performed well. I'm glad there was a greater turn out last night than the previous time we shared a bill. They deserve large crowds. I should also mention, their vocalist has an unholy addiction to printed maps. krasota rigged the interior of my jacket with clips from which I could hang several maps. I walked up to the Ego Likeness merchandise table, opened my coat to flash my wares, and said, "Hey lady, you wanna buy some maps?" She appeared amused and perhaps a little guilty that her dirty secret was known. I gave her the maps at a steep discount. Free.

Our set went well. It was nice to play to a larger crowd this time, some of whom were quite enthusiastic. Also, I hear our sound was pretty damn good on the floor. Amazing, considering we barely had time for a soundcheck. It sounded great on stage. I think I could hear my own keyboards better last night than almost any other time I've performed, which is very useful when I'm improvising (whether intentionally or unintentionally). I am quite pleased with my performance last night. I nailed a lot of difficult parts that I had been creatively ruining in the few practices we managed to have prior to this show.

Speaking of music, I need to point out what a great season this has been for new music. I've picked up a lot of new CDs over the past several months, all of which I'd encourage anyone to give a listen. Bjork, Ego Likeness, In Tenebris, Morrissey, Nick Cave, Orbital, PJ Harvey, Tom Waits, and the forthcoming Mike Patton/Kaada album. All new releases this year, if not just this Fall. Oh yeah, and my band still has a CD available. For interested folks who don't live near me, we posted some info on ordering CDs. We're very unsophisticated at this point, so I'm sorry there isn't any true online ordering/paypal buttons/shopping cart type of things. But at least there's something. For anyone not adventurous enough to purchase a CD without hearing it, one of these days we're going to post 30-second samples from each of the EP's songs on the website.

Yesterday, when I started my car the engine rumbled with a deep growl and spoke to me. "GET OUT!" it seemed to say, before taunting me by locking me inside. Our car is officially haunted. We even have a certificate of authenticity to prove it, but don't ask me to show it to you because it's in the glove box. The glove box is hungry and quite willing to bite the hand that feeds it.

Yesterday, I pressed the button to lower the automatic windows so I could pay my exit fare at the university parking garage. The window went down, but the auto-locks started fluttering. Clicking and clanking urgently, trying to lock despite the doors already being locked. Later on, the courtesy lights did not turn on when my wife opened the door. However, when we started the vehicle, all the inside lights came on inside the car and would not turn off. The car became particularly feisty when seeliespright and dcunitedfreak tried to hop inside at the Mall crosswalk. The locks fluttered and refused to cooperate when we tried to open the doors for them. Finally, after getting them inside the auto-locks are gnashing like a demon's teeth. Sometimes only the driver's side door or one door in the rear. Sometimes, they all fire up, ratcheting and clacking like a mangled sewing machine.

We got used to driving around with all the lights on inside, but I'm not interested in running down the battery when the car is stopped. We pulled some fuses, attempting to exorcise the vehicle. We managed to shut off the persistent courtesy lights, but the locks still remind us that all is not well. Now, after having grown accustomed to driving around with all the courtesy lights ablaze, the normal darkness inside the car is quite unnerving. But as long as the exhaust pipe doesn't spew green soup and the engine not twirl around under the hood, I think we'll be all right.

Welcome back to Irreverent Interpretations of Ancient Literature with Professor ExplodingCat. Much time has passed since our last class and I see there is much sorrow in the student body. Levity is needed. And when I say levity, I mean Leviticus. Today, we will study excerpts from a transcript of an episode of "Divine Eye for the Mortal Guy" that directly addresses themes in the Books of Exodus and Leviticus. As you may know, this is the television show in which five gay (as in happy!) angels transform an unlikely prophet and his wayward people into an absolutely fabulous congregation of God fearing individuals.

( Divine Eye for the Mortal Guy )

Last night was my first out-of-town gig with the band (Silent Muse). We played in Richmond, opening for Ego Likeness. The club/bar Nanci Raygun was a nice location. Promoters and _sacrosanct_ event organizers, daq42 and blackradish were wonderful hosts. I believe I performed well. Mistakes were made and they were creatively covered. It is my job to make you believe I intended to hit that note. Usually, I can pull it off. After the show, I heard as many different opinions on the sound as there were people in the club. So, I have no idea what to believe. I think everyone heard a different show while watching the same one, which is a nifty idea. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of people, but the intimate crowd was pleasant and eager to enjoy the bands.

The performance, however, is only part of the experience. I'm finding that my time on stage does not contribute to my final opinion of a night as significantly as I had once thought it would. Belonging to a performing band appeals to my innate interest in having an experience outside of the average person. When I see a door that reads "Employees Only" or "Restricted Access" I always want to open that door. I am always intrigued by the process behind-the-scenes, going through the door beyond which the average Joe doesn't go.

I like showing up early at a nightclub or bar while it's still quiet and empty. I like exploring the club, seeking out all the dark corners and any extra spaces (if any) that the average Joe can't go. I enjoy the process of setting up and breaking down the band gear. I look forward to staking out my place on a stage I've never stepped on before, working around other bands' gear and compromising on available space. Soundcheck is always different as we test the system and acoustics of a new space. Also, I enjoy the brief warm-up opportunity soundcheck provides before it is our duty to be live entertainers. I like sharing small-talk with other musicians on the bill, talking shop or just chatting like normal people before or after we do the unusual act of performing for an audience. I'm typically rather shy about initiating conversations, so I also love being in the position where someone in my audience wants to approach me and initiate a chat. I'm always flattered and pleased to respond to any comment or question, talking freely and easily. I like sitting back and watching another band perform, knowing that I'm not only an audience member but also a performer--someone performing a job not everyone has an opportunity to do; being the man behind the curtain not everyone gets to look behind. When all of those aspects of an entire night fall nicely into place, then the 40 to 60 minutes on stage is just a tasty edible garnish on an already complete meal. Oh yeah, and the opportunity for free bar food and drinks is also nice.

For those not reading the journals of the other guys in the band, I should point out that we released an EP. So, for the curious, there is a genuine CD available for $5. Last night's show was sort of a CD release party.

On a whim I decided to try taking voice lessons, specifically the Bel Canto technique. I've never thought much about the mechanics of singing, but obviously some people have. So, I'm now intrigued by its history and the reasons behind different techniques. Bel Canto is very dependant on the Italian language and is intended to enable a singer to be heard above an entire orchestra in a room with proper acoustics. I listened to the student after me, a deadly serious opera student training to be a professional. She is one of the loudest unamplified instruments I've ever heard. I actually physically felt the sound waves bouncing off me.

Clearly, volume is important. But I'm a quiet guy. I thought the first lesson went well. I intuitively matched the pitches I heard on the piano without any trouble, which surprised me. But the teacher could not accurately assess my voice because I'm not yet singing loud enough. I am amused by this. It's a new goal for me. In order to be successful at this, I am required to be louder than I have ever been in my entire life. Anybody who has spent any time with me in person will know how odd this is. If I continue with the lessons, one thing I do hope to take away from it is the ability to be comfortable with being loud. I've already mastered silence.

Welcome to Mooreland, Indiana. Population 394.

This is the town in which my wife grew up and became the harrowing creature we know and love today. Let's take a walk down memory lane, or rather Broad Street, and try to get a glimpse into the small town life that shaped my wife.

Here we are on a nice, quiet street. Look over there! Why, it's Old Man Duncan's lovely house peaking through the lovely trees.

Hey, Old Man Duncan! Uh...looks like your house could use some new paint. And are those some holes in the walls? Old Man Duncan? I'm sure he's here somewhere. You know, he really ought to take better care of that lovely house.

Old Man Duncan?!? You home? Hey, there's something in the window!

Oh GOD! Old Man Duncan?!? Where's your flesh?!?! Aren't you cold? MOMMY! Make him stop swinging and rattling!

Welcome to Mooreland, Indiana. Population 393.

I made an emergency reading of this book, because the movie adaptation was just released. Sometimes, when given the choice between literary and cinematic experiences for my first exposure to a story, I will prefer the literary, if indeed the book was written first. This has been the case with Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. I hadn't intended to write a response to my reading of this book. I just wanted to have some fun, but my brain wasn't content with that.

( The post in which I over-analyze children's literature... )

Welcome, again, to Irreverent Interpretations of Ancient Literature with Professor ExplodingCat. We will continue our study of the Old Testament not through a lecture, but through a letter from my fan mail. I received a letter from Mrs. Mary O'Brien in which she writes, "My young and precocious daughter, Sally, was recently expelled from her Sunday School class. Sally turned in an essay entitled 'What I Learned From Reading the Bible.' The teacher was not amused with its content, but I was. And I think you will be, too. I find her young, fresh perspective very enlightening. I wish to share her essay with you and your students." Thank you, Mary. I agree.

( Sally's Bible Essay )

Anyone play chess? I was too tired to read last night. But my brain decided I wasn't too tired for chess. I made the mistake of playing the Chess game that came with OS X for the Mac. It killed me. Over and over. No matter what, it always had me at a disadvantage within three or four moves, followed by a slow death. It has been years since I've played with any regularity, so I'm not surprised by losing. But I would at least expect a few moments of glory. None. And yet I kept playing. After reading on some forums that the OS X chess game is nearly unbeatable, I didn't feel so bad. And I no longer wish to play it again. But now I'm itching for a game against an opponent, machine or otherwise, that isn't perfect. Even a long distance game, making one move a day via email or LJ comments would be cool.

Earlier this evening the wife dragged me off the couch and up to the Blue Ridge Mountains, fleeing the city lights in favor of darker skies. We drove to Big Spy Mountain where, after a brief hike up a hill in the darkness, there was a grassy clearing with a 360 degree view around the mountain. A lone stone bench is up there, begging for a sacrificial victim. The wife sat there and sought for a faint fuzzy smudge of light in the sky, an alleged comet.

Crickets chirped. A few wacky nocturnal birds twittered. The nearby trees rustled softy in the breeze. Otherwise, all was quiet on the mountain. I figured this would have been an ideal, peaceful moment to practice some Tai Chi. I get settled. Relaxed. I'm about to execute the first move when a lone howl resounds from the distance. The wife and I share an amused glance at each other. Before one of us can say, "That was pretty cool," a cacophony of yelps, barks, and howls sing out through the night accompanied by a solo, blood-curdling shriek. The racket of the dog pack echoes around the mountain top. Coming closer.

We figure the time was nigh to gather up our things and make a quick exit. The pack probably wouldn't have come bounding and slobbering up the hill at us. They could even have been on another mountain entirely--sound travels far in the still, quiet night. However, just to be safe, we hid in the car and eventually went for a long drive down the parkway. Being torn apart by wild dogs was pretty low on our list of priorities. But, now that I'm back on my couch, I can say, "That was pretty cool."