Tonight’s open mic was incredible. We had out-of-towners A’tris in from Massachusetts and they truly put on a spectacular show. Their singer, Mason, was absolutely unreal, flying notes out of his mouth – so beautiful. He truly had something special in his soul making for a passion that I rarely ever see in other performers. Absolutely amazing.
Part of the magic of the night. As Adam Day continued his performance, NOMAD wandered outside and returned having picked berries from the bushes somewhere outside. I know I shouldn’t encourage grazing, but a friend passing around his new-found treasures just seemed to fit in with the beauty of the night as a whole.
The dazzling Adam Day performing as the feature at Java Mammas in Reisterstown, MD. His night was absolute magic.
This is what happens when I leave NOMAD to his own devices near my camera. It is one of many photographs and by far the least incriminating.
A’tris was like nothing I’ve ever seen. But at the end of the night Heather had picked up an admirer that resulted in her feeling like she’d need an escort to her car. I’ve had my stalkers before, but the way such creatures go after women is entirely different. There’s an assumption that women are supposed to just sort of … enjoy the attentions lavished upon them by drunks and sociopaths. Ugh… rob, let’s not rant now…
In any case, we usually come back to Heather’s parents’ house to watch some television or something after the open mic – but tonight I’ve been exposed to a movie called Bad Girls that is supposed to be funny but is really just a bunch of bad situations for a quartet of cowgirls. Just as I’m thinking, jokingly, that there were no women in Westerns but the ones in the whorehouses – it is revealed that they are all ex-ladies of negotiable affection and over the course of the movie they are beaten, taken advantage of, stolen from – and yes – I’m sure it’s all going to turn out all right and it already looks like everyone’s picking up manly, cowboy Love interests, but movies like this leave a bad taste in my mouth. Is it supposed to be empowering? They can’t shoot straight and I just want one good punch to be thrown… and even though Drew Barrymore’s breasts just look amazing falling out of that dress, it looks like our heroines will have to be rescued. All we need is a rape scene for me to have to go throw up. (edging in on just that and I retreat to the basement)
Sigh.
In any case, earlier in the evening – during the actual open mic – I was a much more optimistic creature. And earlier than that? I actually got to be the guest teacher for a songwriting / guitar playing camp. I got to teach a bit about what goes through my head while I’m writing and I learned dramatically about how different my own vocabulary is from a music student’s. We sort of stared at one another blankly for a bit until I translated my own concepts of motif and texture and contrast to riffs and timbre and dynamics. Very interesting. I’m not entirely sure if the kids were into what I was doing, but they did seem to like it when I did the string scrapes with my nails.
Train stations are beautiful points of departure. So much warmer than airports… I think I’ve got a song about that somehere….
The teachers sort of hold their breath, worried about how I was going to answer…
Hehehe. I’m a bad human.
