jeff conlin - winter '07 archive

(mister blue skyyyyyy)
Been doing more music all of the sudden. Egg Babies had a fantastic show on Friday that I forgot to mention. I think this show's highlights were "Birdhouse In Your Soul", and a balls-out "God Gave Rock'n'Roll To You", Argent-style. Now we're in the studio making a compilation of the best songs so far. I never thought I'd enjoy playing in a cover band.

Not much else going on... time's ticking away very quickly, I need to start getting the house ready to go on the market, but am at a loss for just where to begin. Well, I'm at a loss for how to pay for the necessary repairs. Hopefully they won't be terribly expensive. I think its funny that there are things that I don't see as a major problem living with, but I wouldn't consider selling the house without fixing. I think I'd be very good at poverty.

Work's been in a groove. Its a shame I get paid so terribly there and have no real upward mobility. I kind of like the fast pace and constant shift of responsibilities. Then again, you can find that anywhere, usually with less overlordian bosses and better pay.

Its gone from 65 and sunny to 15 and snowy and back and forth for the last few weeks. I like seasons, but not all in one month. The house is, to put it gently, drafty. Though 65mph wind gusts are hard to stand up to. Otis and Shirley were conserving body heat.

The scooter is getting its CDI replaced (I think). Should be back up and running soon, just in time for a two-stroke, 90mpg, 60mph return to $3/gal gas. I locked it to Michelle's BMW two months ago and lost the key. My boss lent me a very old Black & Decker grinder that had the lock cut in less than 30 seconds. That's comforting.

I think I'm just typing because I haven't in a while. This is not a very interesting post.

(may we all turn into cats and dogs)

Alas, Mardi Gras is upon us and I have failed in my duties as a baby-eater (I heard a crack as I bit down on last year's King Cake). I completely lost track of seasons (the fact that the ground is still covered with ice and snow threw me off). My heartfelt apologies to Uncle Eddie and Aunt Val down in Louisiana...

I'd wanted to do Mardi Gras for a long time, but being able to do it last year (the first since Katrina) was amazing (but silly expensive - the only airline ticket I could find was first class, though it at least allowed me to arrive in New Orleans pre-drunkened)

Good thing I brought my camera. Eddie and Val's place, and a few great moments at the Krewe of Thoth parade were all I got, but they say it all.

(awwww)

Happy Varentine's Day!

(you will never change)
Well the water emergency was bad, but it could have been worse. The pipe that burst (and sent thousands of gallons of water filling in my crawlspace and turning my driveway into a luge track) wasn't the main line, but the feed to the hose bib, which was easily valved off and running water returned to the house two days later.

Now, to actually fix the hose bib is still going to be about $5000 in that it would mean tearing apart my kitchen and/or the back of my house. Or I could just remove it entirely and re-side that part as if it were never there. I can't wait to be rid of this place.

Been getting the urge to tinker around with music again... been a while. Some of it, like this accidental mashup of Bettye LaVette and Cygnus X happened only about 10 minutes into trying to learn a new realtime audio editing software (Ableton Live). An entertaining fluke.

This little idea was cranked out in about 20 minutes with the Roland Fantom. I think it started out as emo-jazz, but ended up as emo-jazz-lite. Bah, I can't help it! I should have moved to LA and tried writing interstitial segue music for hospital dramas.

Had a fantastic afternoon of driving my Subaru agressively on snowy backroads while listening to Vivaldi and wearing an LL Bean jacket. I really should get sponsored for moments like that.

(cool, clear, water)
12 degrees? No problem. 6 degrees? Sho' nuff. My main faucet was drip drip dripping all night long like it should. Once the wind died down and the snow came, the house warmed up and the view of the fields around me were absolutely beautiful. Last night, I got over 9 hours of perfect, undisturbed, uber-comfy sleep. I forgot how much I loved winter, not to mention how well my house does with a little forethought.

Today, the high was 25 in the sun... warmest day in a week.

5pm, I got a frantic call from my Rumanian neighbor. "You must come home now! You have lots of brown water in driveway, and a very loud roaring noise. This is very bad!"

(the yellow lens of Canton)
Wow, I feel so 1999 right now. Housed-up Brazilian music plays on the Nakamichi, I've got Photoshop and Dreamweaver running concurrently, and if you take a deep breath, you can almost taste the mahi mahi from Atlantic as the Digex or e-Magination crowd takes me out to dinner while Aeon Flux DVDs project on the loft's 20' outer wall.

No bursting economic bubble today, though (at least I hope not, keep your fingers crossed as my pipes are actually frozen - but thats another story) This winter's new palette is too cold to be an actual red, or blue... but too upbeat to be flat grey. Inspired equally by the beach at Montauk and by the snowy neon of Beale St. in February. I dig.

So Sara and I are back from Memphis (as well as the me-Munny! she made)

This was my third year in a row playing the International Blues Challenge, and by far the most amazing time I've had yet, even though we barely had time for anything but music, food, drink, and luv'n. OK, that doesn't sound so bad. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I've always thought the idea of a "blues competition" was a bit of an oxymoron to start with. Its hard to judge something that's such a core component of deep, dark Americana. Plus, to many of the participants, "blues" just means dressing up like John Belushi and Dan Akroyd and playing Stevie Ray Vaughan covers. I'm not saying that because I'm an elitist prick (well not much of one), but I think that thanks to the mass market, much of society has

forgetten the wide range of sounds and styles that true Blues encompasses (same with jazz, r'n'b, and even rock).

For the last two years, I played with the Westcott Brothers, a young, energetic southern rock/funk band who had a solid blues core. While scoring high on originality, judges were polarized when it came to technicality and "blues authenticity". We never made it past the semi-finals and usually just focused on enjoying the trip down and making the most of it.

This year, I played with Clarence Turner, whom I've been playing live music with for over 10 years now. Clarence is about as straight blues as it gets. Some Chicago, some southern, some back porch DC go go swing, but all authentic. He just does what he does, not what anyone else has done. Would the IBC understand? Yup.

Out of over 100 bands, we got to the final 10. We swept our venue (which had a few really good acts), and many of the judges came to us afterwards to tell us just how amazed they were with the simple, honest type of music we put out. I guess they really did get it after all. It helps that Friday night's performance was possibly one of the best sets I've ever played in my life, both individually and together as a band.

Unfortunately, that combination of high-energy playing, drinking, eating, luv'n and general debauchery that Memphis invites, combined with the fact that it was unseasonably cold and snowy for the south, takes a lot out of you. What's more, getting to the finals meant we had to drop any touristy plans and spend all of Saturday in meetings, hauling gear, then waiting for our stage call. They had us last on the bill, and sitting there for all that time, letting the weekend catch up, just sort of wore out our energy reserves. I was actually yawning backstage at the finals just before our set time.

We hit the stage and immediately noticed the monitor mix wasn't quite good (to put it nicely), our energy was far lower than it had been the previous two nights, and on top of that my keyboard shut itself down in the middle of the biggest solo of the set for no reason. We just couldn't find our focus.

I was a little hard on myself after the fact... there I was in the most legendary performance space in the south. I wasn't just in some building on Beale... I wasn't just in this competition... but it was the finals, on the hallowed wooden planks of the century-old Orpheum Theater. I could care less that we didn't place in the top 3... I was just upset that I didn't quite take in the moment; that I didn't take a step back, think about where I was and what I was doing, and summon EVERY bit of energy and concentration to give my best possible performance there. No excuse for that, but it just means next time I'll do it right.

So it sounds like I'm disappointed, but I'm not. Our performance on Friday was flawless, and will live on as the benchmark I need to strive for from here on out. The very fact that we got to the finals is a huge accomplishment in its own right. More importantly, it was yet another amazing weekend with Sara. We continue to just work. Despite the limited amount of free time (couldn't even squeeze in a side trip to my beloved Stax museum), we took a mini road trip 50 miles out into the country just to eat at a legendary chicken shack (Gus's in Mason, TN). It was worth it. Post-finals dinner was at the famous Rendezvous restaurant (though I couldn't convert Sara over on the dry ribs, she did step to the plate and put down a full order). I was also able to re-introduce her to the joys of moderate drinking and just having fun for fun's sake (grad school didn't completely kill her soul!). My cousin Matt and his fiancee Sherill came out, and as they are now getting famous for, helped further the debauchery as best as they could. I also met another cousin and her husband (Charlotte and Phil) who continue this tradition of meeting family for the first time and instantly getting along like we've known eachother for years.

Coming back to the DC/Baltimore area, to work, to my routine... is getting more and more frustrating after weekends like this. My angst about just picking up and starting over somewhere else is quickly turning into a wide-eyed hope. Sure, there are things I'll miss... but in the last decade or so as I've gotten to intimately know and love both people and places all over the country (and world), the concept of leaving things behind is quickly turning into a more circuitous idea of "I can't wait to see this again in a few years,"

(here to take your pornography)
Wow. Ignignokt and Err must be spinning and glowing right now.
"Can you hear this, or shall I turn it up for you?"

"Nerds get their pants pulled down and they are spanked with moon rocks."

(anybody else would surely know)
Sorry for the overtly blog-y last post (so says Rachel)... Sara and I had a great 10 days together. After everything else, this one cheesy eurotrash techno song randomly plays on the ipod on our way home from Montauk (or was it sushi?) and winds up being a little too applicable.

But yes, things are going really well with us. Who would have thought? Its been a very strange story so far... we're definitely not the people we were three years ago (thank goodness). Oddly enough, now as we're finding a strong relationship developing, her family goes out of their way to be difficult (putting it nicely). They've never met me. They don't know me. And while I do a decent job of not taking their prejudice personally, I really hate that it puts Sara in the middle, and automatically instills a sense of guilt in her, when she already has enough on her plate to worry about as an independent adult (not that they see her that way, of course). Livia Soprano doesn't even come close.

But the opressive weight of law school will be off of her shoulders very shortly, and the rest of her life will start soon after. She's a little anxious about that, but I'm jealous. Not to say I don't have an adventure ahead, either... I'm certain I won't be living in Maryland by the end of the year, and I think going back to school is in the 2-3 year plan. I feel like I didn't make the most of undergrad (few people do, I know), and I could use a new direction with some momentum. While my career track derailment a few years ago sucked at the time (in a lot of ways), I think it may wind up being a blessing down the road for me. As much as I bitch about my current employer, I have learned a lot at this job - mostly in the heady societal sense, though also within myself (if nothing more than knowing my limits regarding the relationship between quality labor output, feces from above, and a sense of general well being)

I have my review tomorrow (officially 2.5 years), and plan on being out of there at the 3 year mark. Anyone want to buy a crappy little house for cheap? Just needs some love and a few thousand dollars I don't have...

In a few days, I make my third appearance at the International Blues Challenge in Memphis, this time with Clarence Turner, representing DC. Its always a high point of the year... honestly, its all of my favorite things in one weekend. Music, drinks, food, Sara, and family (my cousin and his fiancee whom I've become great friends with over the last year - as well as another cousin of mine and her family, all of whom I haven't met yet).

The first time I set foot in Memphis, I felt a connection with the place. I tend to favor the scrappy underdog (again, consider my house, much less the city its in). Its a town with a complex history, a lot of conflicting interests and backgrounds, and a crossroads of cultural influence. Its almost like New Orleans but without the international flavor... just pure southern Americana. Gospel, blues, and jazz provided a soundtrack to the early 1900s, and rock'n'roll and soul came along halfway through the century. Elvis, shmelvis. No question Sun records was important, but If you know me, you probably know my fanatical love for the Stax record label. I really think its the brilliant, shining example of Memphis' legacy, not to mention American potential.

As a middle class white blues musician who grew up surrounded by what many consider to be the manifest destiny of black America (outer Prince George's County, MD) I think the draw is natural. While Motown was cranking out "black music for white people" in the north... a bunch of black and white people alike were cranking out "good music for all people" in an old movie theater converted into a makeshift recording studio situated in one of the most segregated cities in the country, in a time of excessively high racial tension. The house band was 2 black men and 2 white men... they couldn't even eat at the same restaurants, but they cranked out some of the most raw, enjoyable American music ever recorded, on their own and with the likes of Otis Redding, Eddie Floyd, Isaac Hayes, Sam & Dave, Mavis Staples, etc.

There are two fairly new museums in Memphis... one devoted wholly to the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Not to his life, but to his death. Its even added a new wing examining conspiracy theories and letting you stand exactly in the place considered by most to be place James Earl Ray pulled the trigger. And just down the street from that, you can stand in Stax Studio A where blacks and whites worked together in an effort to make butts wiggle worldwide. Guess which one I'm a founding member of?

I know racism is still a problem, but sometimes I feel like it is always on the forefront of public debate because some stalwarts of that generation can't let it go (more to the point, if they did, they'd be out of the job). I'm not saying there's not work to do... but in my experience, color and nationality just don't really matter to most people born after 1972 or so.

Did I mention my chingchong girlfriend made her cracka honky boyfriend the best smothered chops, dry ribs, sweet potatoes, cornbread, and collard greens he's ever eaten? I love my life.

(another place and time)

"It's only been a week
the rush of being home and rapid fading
failing to recall
what I was missing all that time in England

Has sent me aimlessly
on foot or by the help of transportation
to knock on windows where
a friend no longer live, I had forgotten

and everywhere I go
there's always something to remind me
of another place and time
where love that travelled far had found me

We stayed outside till two
waiting for the light to come back
we didn't talk I knew
until you asked what I was thinking

Brave men tell the truth
the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles
a woman holds her tongue
knowing silence will speak for her

and everywhere I go
there's always something to remind me
of another place and time
where love that travelled far had found me."

-Royksopp, Remind Me

(so it's like a Rachel? yeah.)

Well, its that time of year again, and your holiday potpourri of audio sits just to your right. Enjoy!

Been a good week. Christmas party at Brian and Kristen's which is always good for a laugh (combines airline employees, old-money Charles Village art patron types, motorcycle nuts, and Mount Vernon's most fabulous). Its possibly the best people watching ever. Especially as you continue to drink Scott's famous Cosmojitos (hey, its the holidays). Yes. They're comparing vests as a pug looks on. Probably my favorite picture this year.

The next day, after a long day at work, I found out the Walkmen show in Philly was sold out. I was supposed to meet old friends Gil and Laurie up there for Gil's birthday, but not getting in would sort of suck. I figured I'd just bail and recover from the previous night's shenanigans. "Do you know what today is? Its my birthday. So get up here." Well, ok... Philly is only 90 minutes.

Once in the club, we realized everyone there was looking for an extra ticket. This was going to be tough. After a pitcher or two of Yards, Laurie and Gil went upstairs, and I didn't hear from them for almost 20 minutes. I held their barstools much to the dismay of the defeated hipster army now crowding the downstairs, ticketless. But I didn't give up hope. Turns out, Laurie was upstairs, saying she mistakenly only ordered one ticket online and her friend drove a long way and its his birthday (none of these actual lies... technically). The sad girl act eventually yeilded a ticket, and earned Laurie my eternal respect and gratitiude (previously ripped away at age 12 when her mom yelled at my friend Robert and I for being in their house when Laurie was "not supposed to let anyone in the door", so we used the window. 6th grade love makes you crazy.)

While I'm not a rabid Walkmen fan... I've always dug their sound (especially in the winter), and the show did not disappoint. I think they sound better live than recorded... especially with the addition of the trio of mariachi-trumpet sirens. And alcohol.

Every good night of drinking and music with friends has to be capped off with a 3am diner meal. Little Pete's was the place. By then, memory had more or less shut down. Back to Gil's (architecturally kickass) apartment before consciousness shuts down too.

The morning came late, and brought with it strange sounds, which were easily ignored. Instead, we played with the cat. Shortly after this picture was taken, a loud slam was heard, and the cat changed direction midair, ears back, and took off to hide.

Gil's female neighbor had apparently just pulled a knife on his male neighbor, and he threw her against their front door. Screams and loud noises persisted. We nervously looked at eachother for a few seconds, then she screamed, "GET OUT" multiple times, while he screamed back, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" and another loud thud. Laurie called the cops, and I, for some strange reason, walked into their apartment and nonchalantly asked, "You guys need help?" They had large, thick strands of copper wire on the floor. Not sure why. He also claimed he'd been cut, but I saw no blood. Gil held down the hallway as the neighbors (also hungover) all poked their heads out to see what was going on. Then the cops came, and they wanted to look at everyone's apartments because they thought they were cool. And then we ate lunch. And that's a great weekend.

I had to get cat litter last night at 11:30pm. This can only (reluctantly) be accomplished at Wal*Mart. Strangely, so can the obtaining of one of these gems :

Indoor?