I made several omissions in my last music post but only one that I feel needs immediate attention.

At the Ne'er Do Evers CD release there were many good bands, but one that is worthy of it's own blog was Wild Honey. Front man Jon Warren's new project, Wild Honey has picked the best of the best for it's members including musicians from Twilight Procession, Rocketship Park, and Balthrop Alabama. The Matchless show was only Wild Honey's second gig, but I expect big things from this band. And so should you. They are currently working on their first album, which I'm pretty sure will be coming out on Serious Business Records, the Hoboken based indie label (check out their sight for all the other amazing bands the represent!).
Wild Honey plays sweet and history rich songs, love songs, and rock/psychedelic masterpieces, too. Any fan of singer/song writers who also shred and rock are bound to love this band.
Keep watching Wild Honey.

It seems like everyday has been about new music, or new art, or new events. So I'll start at the end and go backwards.

Yesterday I "helped" Caithlin screen print t-shirts for her upcoming tour.
When I say Caithlin, I mean Caithlin De Marrais of Rainer Maria fame, who has a new solo album out on Brooklyn's End Up Records.
When I say upcoming tour, I mean she's leaving tomorrow for a more than three week (with a break for Thanksgiving) tour of the South East, Texas, Chicago, and than the North East. You can find a full list of tour dates at her myspace. And I suggest you take note and make it to the show that's closet to you, no matter how far that might be, as she will be touring with Owen and El May and every show is sure to be amazing!
When I say "helping", I mean I basically stood around trying to sound like I know what I'm doing, and not to be awestruck. When you go to her show, pick up a shirt!

Friday was the Ne'er Do Evers CD release party. If you were there, you know how much it rocked! If not, catch them again on the 21st of November at Hank's Saloon in Brooklyn. I marvel at the fact that so many "big", "successful", "mainstream" bands can't manage to make three awesome records in a row, but the Ne'ers have done just that. Without a clunker in the mix, 100% Wrong is pure Ne'er Dos, but shows growth and depth. The record is definitely a departure from previous releases (a new song from bassist/singer Matt Moon is one of the notable and happy additions) but retains the feel of the Ne'er's punk/pop/alternative/experimental roots. Buy 100% Wrong at the End Up Store and all other records via Neerdos.com.
For all those who in MA, The Ne'er Do Evers are playing Cambridge on Nov 14th.

Several weeks ago, Chris, Mike O, and I went to see the Exit Stencil showcase for CMJ. Exit Stencil represents some of my favorite indie bands working today. One band I always try to see when they are in town is Mystery Of Two. Part Pere Ubu, part Television, Mystery Of Two is a fun and exciting band to watch and listen to. they are load, energetic and hardcore on stage and demure, sweet and accommodating off. Perhaps not the most well known or famous band on the label, MoT is it's heart and soul, running it and the awesome DIY space, Tower 2012, in Cleveland.
An unexpected treat of the showcase was getting to see Hot Cha Cha, Exit Stencil's all girl rock band! When I hear "all girl rock band" I think of scantily clad, affected, boring music. Hot Cha Cha is absolutely not that. They are scantily clad, but with a personal and interesting style. They are affected, but in a way that is part robot dance, part performance art. And Hot Cha Cha are NOT boring. Their music is interesting, provocative, and well played. Basically they turn my idea of an "all girl rock band" on it's ear.

Music is happening all the time in my life, it seems. This is only the tip of the iceberg, but hopefully it will keep you busy for a while.

Technically, I live on Long Island.
Brooklyn is part of the bigger island, Long Island.
But nobody really thinks of it that way.

I have been out to the area of Long Island that is called that only once.

Actually that's not true, when I was young my parents had a friend who was obsessed with visiting things. she would get it in her head that she wanted to visit every cranberry bog in the tristates and that would be our weekends for months at a time. One such drive was to visit every semi-nearby light house. We must have visited fifty or more. I'm sure that we ended up at Montauk Point Lighthouse on some weekend excursion.

But the time that i can remember was last April, when Chris and I went for our spring getaway. The trip was only a few days, but it definitely left an impression on me. Long Island strikes me as a paradox, and I want to learn more about it. in my mind Long island was all Fitzgerald novels and scenes from the movie Pollack. Driving out there, much of it was idyllic like I pictured it. The drive was all pine barrens, windmills, odd religious camps, and winter downed roadside vegetable or seafood stands. But most of it was suburban strip malls, ugly highway and "quaint" gaudy over-priced high-end boutiques. Chris and I managed to relish in the former group, finding plenty of interesting spots to go and things to see, and laugh at the latter. And we went to the right place, it seemed, when we arrived in Montauk. Being there in the absolute Off Season, Montauk struck me as a working peoples town. The townies seemed to be hardy, tough folk, waiting, drinking, working and preparing for the onslaught of summer invaders. Few if any roamed the streets in the day, no other tourists were in town at the time we were there. We milled, snapping photos, and exploring back streets, while the regulars went to the post office, or the hair salon. It was like vacationing in your home town, where there is nothing to do. But to us it was an amazing adventure! All the hotels and motels were empty, all the attractions were closed, but the beach was still beautiful, and the food was still a treat. We walked the beach with townies walking their dogs, a mile of sand between our two parties. The shells are amazing! Living close to the Jersey Shore, some of the most beautiful beaches on the planet, I have seen wonderful shells. But Long Islands currents pull shells and other oceanic debris from all along the west Atlantic. And washed up on Montauk's shore you find interesting, startling, and magical things. Everywhere we went there was off season magic. We saw colonies of stray cats and people, walked along rocky shores, saw deer and Indian graveyards, boats and lobster cages, returned to our motel to watch lame science programs on cable TV, every turn was a discovery. We never did get to go up to the Lighthouse but sat on the hard rubber seats of playground swings in it's shadow. The trip may not have taught me much about Long Island and I haven't done much research due to my hectic schedule, but maybe going back out there will help. Or maybe we just want to go back, and see what else we can find.



















See more photos in the Mo and Chris vacation set on my flickr.

Fiction:
"I take the tube from her. Our hands touch, the tips of our fingers touch. Just the tips. But a little spark travels between. I uncap it and spread it on my lips. It burns. As I inhale with the shock, it burns into my nostrils. It's so cold, a cold burn. I reapply to feel it all again. I have the urge to smear it all over my face and into my eyes. Let the burn wash over me. I look up then, around, and she's looking at me, head tilted as if asking a question. But she's silent. She turns her head suddenly, like an animal hearing a distant, vaguely interesting noise.
'Here,' I recap the lip balm and try to hand it back to her.
She turns back to me, looks at the tube in my out stretched hand. Instead of taking it, she grabs my other empty hand, that's limp at my side. Our palms cup together, and she pulls me off across the parking lot.
'come one,' she says.

Reality:
I walk towards the end of the bar farthest from the open door, to help someone, or to get something. I can't remember now. And I hear... a noise. A collision. A bang followed by grinding, twisting, scraping, sliding. An oh my god. I look up to see people running, shouting, worried, surprised. And I see past them, out the multi paned door and windows. My vision becomes a tunnel and now all I see are the two cars, almost melded into one, coming towards me and my bar. I have no thoughts but my whole being is calling out for the cars, the accident, to stop before it smashes the thin corner of the bar entrance between the doors and the open windows, kills my patrons, destroys my work place and my hangout, leaving only a bloody, glass scattered wreckage. Isn't this supposed to be happy hour? The cars turn and slide together and hit the police call box that stands vigilant at the street corner. They come shockingly, but almost gently, to a messy halt mere feet from the entrance to my bar. I have my hands to my head, willing it. Who's calling the police? People from inside and out swam the scene, I call 911. Someone asks for a glass of water for one of the victims. Someone needs another beer. Sirens chatter, the police and ambulance arrive, and everyone clusters at the narrow corner that was so nearly demolished. One car door is opened and it rests on the side of the building by my still open front door. Patrons who were smoking come back inside looking for their half drunk beers and with their eyewitness accounts. Patrons mill back to their tables but the conversations are all about only one thing, now. Patrons request a stop light, or a whiskey. A man outside is pinned in the car. The EMTs get him out and murmurs of what it's like spread back from the door towards the bar. People are taken away to hospital. Now the crowd that was outside checking out the scene come in, they need a drink. Everyone wants beer and I never stop pouring.

"The air was full of music. So full it seemed there was room for nothing else. And each particle of air seemed to have it's own music, so that as [one] moved his head he heard a new and different music, though the new and different music fitted quite perfectly with the music that lay besides it in the air."

Music so loud as to fill the air.
Music that is noise, and that is joy.
Music that is tone, and toneless.
Music so loud that it congeals the air like pudding.
Music that makes the air solid.
Music that makes people fight, or cry.
Music which makes your bowls quiver.
Music which arouses.
Music which repulses.
Music that is meditation.

"New themes, new strands... constantly involved themselves into the continuing web. Huge slow waves of movements, faster dances that thrilled through them, tiny scintillating scampers that danced on the dances, long tangle[s] whose ends were so like their beginnings that they twisted around upon themselves, turned inside out, upside down..."

Music which is sound, and touch.
Music that makes the air vibrate.
Music that makes your small hairs stand on end.
Music that knocks you down.
Music so thick that it supports you.
Music so big as to fill your head, and body.
Music so full as to make your eyes brim with tears.
Music to dull all pain.
Music so loud to make your fingers numb.
Music to surround.

"... [one's] mind sank further and further under the overwhelming weight of the music. The visions that were woven in his mind by the million thrilling threads of music as they were pulled through it were increasingly a welter of chaos, but the more the chaos burgeoned the more it fitted together with the other chaos, and the next greater chaos, until it all became a vast exploding ball of harmony expanding in [the] mind faster than any mind could deal with."*

Music to isolate.
Music that is love, and hate.
Music that is solid and intangible.
Music which make your blood pump.
Music which makes your brain burst.
Music that is nothing but sound waves.
Music that is art.
Music that is a mountain.
Music that is a flood.
Music that is a holocaust.

My Bloody Valentine @ Roseland Ballroom, New York, NY, 9/22/08



*excerpt from Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

While observing Shabbos, you can't ring your neighbor's doorbell.
Even if your house is on fire, even if it might spread to theirs.
A woman, not Jewish, from three houses down, rings the bell and shouts to bring the kids out. All the kids.
The boys go to a friends, the loud woman holds the baby on my porch.
Baby's first fire.
The girls are old enough to stand on the street with the crowd.
The flashing lights of the firetrucks arrive and draw everyone who lives on the street from their beds.
Some were already there, now all the neighbors stand in pajamas on their porches.
Everyone in pajamas.
Except the firemen.
The firemen are silent, dressed in boots up to their knees, and hats, and tanks on their backs that look like jet packs. They don't talk.
Four fire trucks with lights spinning. The red is fine but the whites flash and burn my eyes right to the back of my head.
The air smells of burning rubber and electric wires. It's wet and heavy from the rain and from the humidity. The mosquitoes are enjoying the last of summer. The baby is in my landlady's ample lap and asleep despite the roar from the four fire trucks.
Until the fire is out the firemen don't talk, but then they laugh and joke for a minute before hauling the hose away from the hydrant and on to the back of the truck. It takes thirteen men to haul the hose.
My landlady's daughter, the loud woman who rang the bell, takes photos of the firemen and sends them to her friends in Florida. All on her cell phone. All in this moment.
The baby smiles, her eyes flutter and her mouth opens and closes, all in her sleep. she's dreaming and the fire trucks pull away. The lights still flash but fade into the night.
The milling crowd disperses.
I head back up stairs, to bed.

I woke up way earlier than I was intending today. This is the first morning since being home that I could have slept in a little. Except that I couldn't bc there was street cleaning, garbage trucks, and construction, not to mention Jewish chatter, going on out side my windows which have to be open bc it's so darn hot.

I thought, 'New York is very different than Vermont,'.
And I thought, 'this sucks.".

But then I made some coffee, went out to the porch to see the plants and flowers grown up like crazy since I have been gone, heard the Brooklyn Parrots chirping in the trees behind my house, pet Bippi, did the dishes from the amazing meal I had with my amazing boyfriend last night, and got ready to go to a job that I love.

And I thought, 'This isn't so bad...'
'In fact,' I thought, "I'm glad to be home.'

I am sitting on the grass, the setting sun heating my back, listening to The Stockwell Brothers play folk tunes to a lively crowd. Mom and I just ate cold fried chicken, bread, four kinds of salad (potato, pasta, slaw, and green), and a chocolate chip cookie. We are relaxing on the common while we dog and people watch, sway and sing along. If everything was this easy to support, I'd become an activist.

EDIT:
After writing this blog, mom and I went home and watched a show about the life of Pete Seeger. He's playing up here in a few weeks, a rare appearance.
Watching him totally put this little blog to shame. This blog was more than a little bit just a joke. But seeing Pete made it a bit insulting, too.
Pete Seeger, now 89, had an amazing life. Watching a show about it made me think about how so much of his protest songs were relevant today (especially the one that goes "support our troop, bring them home, bring them home) only there was no one singing them. And no one going out and saying what he did. No one is getting blackballed for what they believe in. Not in the same way. I'm not sure if our society is more scared or more lazy now than it was then.
Pete started the Think Globally, Act Locally movement on a grand scale. I am a big supporter of this idea. I'm big supporter of community and working together. But when Pete says it, things get done. He cleaned up the Hudson, for fuck's sake.
Writing this silly little blog and hours later seeing a true american hero made me think that I have to put more energies in to the world around me. It's a direction that I have been edging towards for some years now, gaining momentum in the last few. But I am starting to realize that I have to be even more aware, even more conscious of my actions, maybe live even more on the fringe if need be. I need to research more, learn more, talk more, educate more...
There's a lot more that I need to do to make the world around me a better place.
There's a lot more to be done.

Right now my life is all about:

Being drenched in sunlight as I drink my morning coffee.

The humming bird that comes every morning to drink from the flowers we have on the porch and look in at me as I drink my coffee.

Long and lazy breakfasts that are full of chatter and last til noon.

The library lady who never whispers.

Driving down roads we never have before, just to see where they go.

Getting to the lake in the afternoons when everyone else has gone home.

Swimming with fishes and climbing on rocks.

Napping on the beach listening to the waves and the wind.

Reading in the sun.

Trying new food, sharing so I can try everything.

Thrift stores.

Making the bed, so that it is always crisp.

Eating soft serve, EVERY DAY.

Missing my beast, friends, and lover.

Rolling the windows in the car all the way down, so that my hair blows crazy.

Looking at the sky.

Farmers markets and fresh produce.

Blueberries.

That about sums it up.
-m

Here is a little blog containing a little poem I wrote before I left for Vermont.
The first part is true the rest is made up.

I have the tendency to keep things whole
I like things as they are
but when I see you I want to smash at you
to break you like glass
shattering

Hopefully I will have more soon, this is just something to put a pin in it.
Best,
-m