It’s been a little tricky here in Nashville. No surprise. There’s a lot of things still going on back home, backlash from family stuff that I’m just not very connected to because I’m not there enough. It’s hard being away so much.
Here in Nashville the primary word I’d choose to describe my world is “wet”. I’m sure there’s some doppler image that doesn’t even bother with showing specific formations but shows the area as pretty much being under bombardment. We’ve been playing out about every other day – any more would be impractical with how much other crap we’re all having to deal with at the moment. In the background, the soundtrack of my Life is mostly provided by Reverbnation which may or may not be a good thing. Usually I set it to filter in some way or another but at the moment I’ve got it set completely to random and it just presses home the fact that the internet allows SO much absolute CRAP to be distributed. I’m listening to what appears to be the same hip-hop song over and over again… and I LIKE a lot of hip-hop so this isn’t some uninformed statement. A lot of electronica which I’m appreciating a little bit more, but man there’s a lot of bad artists out there.
Sunday night we went out and played at Cafe Coco which reminds me a lot of what would happen if College Perk got a paint job and then had walls shot down from space into it at random. It’s labyrinthine and bright and the only mar on its beautiful interior is the presence of a number of signs reminding you that there’s cameras everywhere and that if you’re in the bathroom for more than five minutes the staff is supposed to call the police.
Eep!
The gig itself was really good. West Mary exploded on stage – the best I’d ever seen them. They were passionate and exquisitely tight (refrains from metaphors here) and they had a good turn out… but I was utterly shocked to discover that most of the people in the slowly filling room were here to hear US. We met a lot of really cool people after playing one Hell of a show (if I do say so myself) and we hung out talking about art and randomness and eating tiramisu. Good times were had.
Yesterday we finally got out to see Nightmare Before Christmas (in the rain) in 3D. I highly recommend this simply because it’s good to watch this movie every once in a while. Though the message is perhaps a bit questionable, it makes me smile nonetheless.
Okay, it’s rainy and grey and I can’t really focus and all I really want to do is watch television, so perhaps I’m just going to pop in a Buck Rogers DVD and let my brain melt into Erin Grey’s curves.
It’s been a really good night. We’re hurtling from one gig to another – Norm’s River Road House was a basement venue of cold, cold stone and hot pizza with the best crust ever. It actually kind of reminded me of the Chef Boy R Dee (?) pizzas my mom made us when we were kids – except of course as children we’d never have stood for anything but black olives on George’s half and mushrooms on mine.
Watching Tony Laiolo play is magnificent and he truly is a great singer/songwriter. He’s a solid guitarist with an elegance to his licks that I don’t really touch with my aggressive attack and his words are beautiful and clever without ever falling into that with him.
But despite all the positive aspects of the night, I’m having trouble keeping my mood up. I’m just sad and wish I could spend a night curled on a couch watching something dumb and fuzzy. Buck Rogers is helping me a little bit, but we were dumb not to leave with a couple of discs of Friends or something.
smart-ass cleverness that owns so much of folk, that tongue-in-cheek wink that most singer/songwriters expect in response to their holier-than-thou metaphors is absent
It’s raining in Nashville and there’s a couple of people that I’m missing with a surprising intensity. Usually I feel like I’m getting away with something with my job – an unholy combination of Peter Pan and James Hetfield pushing the boundaries of the concept of growing up. But right now I feel the inconvenience of distance, tense and taut, the sky is clouded and close and the rain, rather than rippling on my skin and making my senses reel, makes it hard to see, makes it cold and makes me worry about the speeds we find so comfortable.