We often travel under silver light. It’s a talent, to come and go in the rain, to load and unload in the mist. Usually we can get things in and out of the car without getting soaked, the weather not turning its serious attentions on us until we’re well under weigh. And here we are, well into the Western panhandle of Maryland, and the rain is ricocheting off of everything, forming vast clouds around the trucks and obscuring the mountains ahead of us. Sunlight off to the North is tunneling through the cover to gleam that beautiful silver all around us, as the sky fades from that dark kitten shade of soft grey up to be the beautiful glimmer of fresh Martin silk & steels.
And we’re off! Back on the road, hurtling towards Indianapolis. I try not to place more than four hours of distance between individual shows, and today’s nine is just about inexcusable – but also unavoidable. Last night we had Danielle Miraglia in from Boston, MA as a featured artist at Java Mammas, and that wasn’t a show I could turn over to a guest host.
Petal Blight – the biggest band to ever get fit into my open mic. I’m not interested in other people trying for this title, btw. One guitar, a fiddle, an upright bass, a theremaneer and a vocalist are QUITE enough, thank you! (Confederate Flag update – because of how the pics have found their way into the Journal – the images and the text are about a week apart, for which i apologize – however it means that the fact that the open mic pictured ABOVE is when Confederate Flag guy came back, having removed the flag from his truck the week before, but now wearing one on his back – is good and timely!
Danielle has long been one of our proponents up North – her singer/songwriter showcase at the Burren has long been a staple of our wanderings through the most unnavigable city in existence. Beyond that, she’s a great performer. Focused on the trad side of old blues, she writes a couple of tunes here and there, stomping and swaggering her way through rhythmic sets on her old Gibson guitar, accompanying herself with brassy harmonica solos and swinging golden hair. She’s one of those immaculately beautiful women who you’re afraid to look at for too long, because you KNOW other people aren’t as subtle and must stare and stare and stare.
I’m proud of my open mic. Danielle Miraglia is a professional from a big scene. She’s nationally known – and I could bring her to a little coffeehouse in a tiny town in the outer suburbs of Baltimore City and give her a decent night. Someone described Danielle as a “a dimunitive, blond-locked freight train”.
Orion absolutely positively agrees.
We had a packed house, we had a great audience – all the things I advertise. Sometimes I grow fearful – especially as the kids in town are growing feisty and feverish with the changing of the weather, I’m always worried that Java Mammas will become more known as a pre-teen hangout for kids trying to out-tough one another… but every Thursday I’ve just got to remind myself that the moment I TALK to one of them, even in the midst of the swagger that I personally have so much contempt for, they’re eager to help out, eager to be a part of what’s going on around them. Willful, arrogant isolation is what I see as one of the biggest problems with the Youth of America (yes, I’m writing like I’m OLD) – and contempt for all that is Other – and it’s important for me to note that for most of our population, for as much as they like putting on those colours, the Java Mammas crue is populated with talented, fun, delightfully weird people.
Speaking of colours – the truck came back sans it’s Confederate flag. I didn’t get a chance to ask him about it.
I’m often not good at speaking my mind. I’m fortunate enough to be surrounded by people that I LIKE that I don’t have a lot of philosophical arguments. We agree to disagree on some fronts, but in general the world is smooth. It means that when things DO rankle me I often just ignore it. I need to focus on having an in-between place, the part of me that starts more conversations. Not argumentative and not aggressive… the trick with that, of course, is that people are so USED to being judged that they often respond as if they’re being attacked even with the gentlest of approaches.
I must practice!
I only feel the desire to start conversations with people who have interesting symbols attached to them though. The uninteresting, blatant and stupid? I just want… well… the huge truck in front of us dangling a set of chrome testicles off its truck hitch? I want some bolt-cutters and a stack of “spay or neuter your pet” stickers. Or perhaps a chrome vagina? Shh… just pretend I’m not speaking!
