I have suffered from migraines since I was a kid. I remember when i was in elementary school, I got a horrible headache every time it rained. I didn't know they were migraines until I was about 24, when I realized that the "headaches" I would get were beyond any pain that a traditional headache brings. I didn't bother to take Advil because even three or four pills did nothing to stop the pain, and the nausea that accompanied the splitting pain was aggravated by ibuprofen.
Anyway, enough about pain. This isn't a search for pity; it's just a fact. I suffer from Migraine.
A few years ago, I was getting 8-10 a month. Think about that. Every 3rd or 4th day, you are in such pain that you just can't function. I understood why Virginia Woolf might walk down the lake, or why Vincent would cut off his ear (both famous Migraneurs, FYI). It was debilitating.
Imagine the worst hangover you have ever experienced, and multiply it by 10. That is a migraine. Horrible light sensitivity, vomiting, the feeling of an icepick being jabbed in your skull. And I'm delirious. Between cold chills and sweat, and crying at the inability to sleep it off.
I've come to know it well over the years, mostly by becoming in tune with my own body -- its reactions, quirks, pains, swells, etc. I know redheads suffer more from them, and pain medicines don't work as well on us. I learned that my grandmother had migraines, and would tie a scarf around her head. This trick helps me fall asleep. I learned that marijuana is prescribed to California migraine sufferers as one of the best preventative treatments.
All the legal medicines for migraine made me more ill on a regular basis. I grew my own Feverfew, took extra zinc and vitamin B, all the herbal remedies. Some helped, but my friend Migraine still called several times a month. When the pains got so regular and bad, I began keeping a diary of everything. Food, weather, my body, etc.
The worst discovery was that avocados and bananas are extreme migraine triggers for me. Most wine is a trigger. For some reason, Pinots are usually okay. Cheap alcohol will give me a headache long before I've even got a buzz. It's been a nice excuse to only drink the good stuff. When a man offers to buy me a drink, I say, "I'm drinking Crown and Soda, which i know is expensive, but I'll buy it myself rather than drink Early Times."
Anyway, I've mostly been able to control them. Occasionally, when the storm front comes through on the same day I had too much dairy and a piece of dark chocolate, I will suffer. And I say, "I should have known better."
I hate being a picky-eater, but that slice of cheese or glass of wine is no longer worth the migraine.
And recently, I think I'd discovered a new migraine trigger, which may very well have been there all along ... gluten. People talk about gluten this and gluten that, and I don't even really understand what gluten actually is. (Library trip tomorrow for some science books.) But I know that I gave it up for three days, then had one piece of focaccia bread, and was down with a migraine within an hour.
So i'm experimenting with this gluten-free thing for a bit. It's harder than anything I've ever done. And I've been a vegetarian since high school. Vegan when I choose. That's all easy. It's the gluten-free thing i'm finding difficult.
Anyone out there doing it? Advice? Anything you've learned?
And as for you Migraineurs, i recommend a brilliant essay by Joan Didion called, "In Bed." She writes beautifully of her friend, Migraine.
Other famous Migraneurs: Thomas Jefferson, Georges Seurat, Claude Monet, Vincent Van Gogh, Lewis Carroll (his hallucinations during migraines were said to have been a huge part of Alice in Wonderland), Virginia Woolf, Julius Caesar, Sigmund Freud, Napoleon, and Elvis Presley.
Maybe they should've avoided gluten. I don't know. I'm at a loss. I've had two migraines in the past two weeks. Not as bad as I've had in the past. But ten times worse than a bad hangover.
Anyone else? Just curious.
***
Sorry to not have an exciting life-on-the-road blog.
If you want that: Nashville was fun. I ran into my pal, Shannon Lawson, and we decided to put an impromptu show together in Louisville on Friday, July 11th at the Monkey Wrench. 10:00pm . $5. And it's Shannon's birthday that weekend, so come sing one to him. And my birthday is soon soon soon ... so maybe sing to me too:) I'll be there, unless I have a migraine.
About once a year, I take a Meyers-Briggs test. It's different every time. It always feels like I know exactly the right answer to choose to get the desired score. Sort of like a Cosmo Quiz, or answering the essay question with what the professor wants to hear. My best subject in life was always school, so getting the appropriate score on the Meyers-Briggs personality test is fun game to me.
I'm a "Thinker," by nature, but i'm a Thinker who wants desperately to be a "Feeler." So I live like a "Feeler," and on tonight's personality test, i was an ENFJ. Last time i was an INTP. It's more fun to live like a Feeler. Then you get to order the Bourbon Ball Pancakes on a Wednesday afternoon, just because you feel like it. When I'm living that way, it's like being in the circus. The good kind of circus.
I've been over-thinking everything, to the point that I feel kind of crazy. Of course, I'm surrounded by musicians all the time, most of whom are probably certifiable. You kind of have to be to do this by choice. I can understand why most of the world self-medicates, whether it's smoking a joint or popping a Prozac. Tonight, my drug of choice is a glass of White Shiraz, borrowed from my neighbor, since it's Sunday and I couldn't buy a bottle of wine in Kentucky.
I think that part of why my head is spinning is that I've been in Louisville for almost two weeks now. I am going insane from being in one place. Yesterday's jaunt to Bloomington was well-needed, but didn't really count as a road trip.
Usually, when my head starts spinning, I escape with a 19th-century British novel. The problems of that era are so simple and charming. It's easy to get lost within them, and forget about all the wackiness of our own world which we have so brilliantly messed up.
I'm reading The Thirteenth Tale right now, (a new novel, not 19th century) which is doing an OK job of getting me out of my head. But whenever I close the pages, I'm right back to head-spinning.
I'm ready to hit the road again. I don't care if I'm playing accordion in the band, selling merch, doing publicity, or tour managing. I'll do any of those things, although honestly, I hate selling merch. I'd rather play music. Or at least just bring me along. I promise to be charming and entertaining and supply plenty of interesting facts about roadside attractions.
Apologies for the extremely introverted blog. Most of my friends can't handle the thought of living out of a suitcase and a van, but that's really the only thing that sedates me these days. It's better than a glass of White Shiraz anyday.
Wherever and whomever you are, I hope to come visit you soon.
You might notice the United Kingdom tour-dates on my myspace page. My passport is valid, and I can't wait to hop the plane to Europe. If you live over there, or you have friends who do .. please drop me a line. I'd love to meet up with whomever. I'm really a very chipper person ...
Question posed by a blog commenter: Do female musicians get male groupies?
I'm not sure about that. I've definitely had some creepy old men look at my chest for an uncomfortably long time. But there's a different vibe when it's male superfans versus female groupies.
I actually saw women -- seemingly normal women -- pretty much throw themselves at the band.
I should also point out that there were two females in Days of the New during this past trip, and not once was I propositioned, nor was Rachael. And I am not complaining. Thanks for not following me back to my hotel, guys.
The band is really not a hard-rocker-trash-the-hotel-room type of band. In fact, I'm wondering if any bands out there are actually like that anymore. It seems to me that groupies have this idea in their heads that they need to act totally crazy and promiscuous because, well, that's what rock stars are used to. So, really, it's just the drunk girls who end up trashing the hotel rooms and therefore making it impossible to actually get to bed at a reasonable time.
Drunk girls, Bartenders, Superfans, and Normal people, let me offer you some suggestions:
1) That ring on the 4th finger of his left hand means something, or he would have taken it off before the show started. Why must you persist?
2) Just because the girl is selling merch does not mean she is sleeping with anyone in the band.
3) Sometimes there are actual, real-life, female musicians ... not just "band girlfriends." In fact, why would a traveling rock-n-roll band ever bring a girlfriend along? The guys would spend the entire time arguing with their girlfriends, explaining that the breast-flashing was entirely unprovoked and that orange girl followed us back to the hotel of her own accord.
4) We requested a non-smoking hotel room because we don't want you to light up in our room.
5) I'm sure your boobs were very expensive, but that does not mean i want to see them.
6) Drunk isn't pretty.
Maybe I'm just a very boring rock-n-roll musician. I mean, hell, I spent my day in Atlanta at the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library. Maybe these band members act different because they allowed two girls in their band.
****
Hmmmmm... what else?
I brought along a delicious bottle of Four Roses Single Barrel Bourbon, for after-show hotel-room sipping. I did not share with the drunk girls.
"Touchdown Jesus" in Monroe, Ohio, remains one of my favorite roadside attractions. Have you seen it? Also known as "Drowning Jesus", or "MC 62 Ft Jesus." It never ceases to amuse me.
***
Michigan
Do any of you live in Michigan? And why?
I should say that Peter and I stayed in beautiful Saline, Michigan a few weeks ago, and had a charming lunch in Ann Arbor. But really, it was May and sunny and warm. Michigan is sooo soo soo o very cold in the winter, that the only times they can do construction work is in the summer. So after a long sucky winter of freezing your toosh, you're ready to get outside, and it takes 2 hours to drive 30 miles because of all the road construction? What kind of an existences it that? Do you choose Michigan? Or does Michigan choose you?
Warning to you travelers: It might take 3 hours to drive the 60 miles from Detroit to Toledo. I-75 South is closed for the foreseeable future. Bring along a GPS and train it to "avoid highways."
****
There is lots of youtube footage of the Days of the New gigs from the past week or two. Have a look if you like.
***
I've finally got some confirmed dates in ... the United Kingdom! See you in October. Who lives over there? Want a houseguest? Or a house concert? Cheerio!
I read Water for Elephants a few weeks ago. It's about a young veterinarian during the Great Depression who hops a train car and finds himself working in a circus. Antics ensue, as expected, but they are emotionally heavier than you might expect.
Touring with Days of the New was a bit emotionally heavier than anticipated, both good and bad. Maybe instead of the circus analogy, I should go with a thrill ride analogy.
Anyway, I have about ten different blogs in me, so I might space these out over a few days.
This is also difficult to write because I am constantly amazed at how many people read this blog ... and those people who copy and paste it onto other sites, like freakin' WikiPedia for example! I'm sure the Days of the New message boarders are a'watchin'. And that's fine; i have no secrets. I just know that people often misinterpet the written word, so I have to think think think before I write write write. I don't like writing that way.
I feel like I've been on the road for months. It's a good feeling, but I'm tired. Usually a four-day tour wouldn't phase me, even with lack of sleep. But I had a wonderful time traveling with six of the coolest people I've ever met.
We rented Peter Searcy's WonderVan for this leg of the tour -- complete with DVD player and captain's chairs and a built-in cooler I had not previously noticed.
Life in a van is probably different from life on a tour bus, but you still spend a lot of time with the same people. And these particular people were a brilliant match. The only person I would have added to the mix would be Mr. Searcy himself, only because we have the silliest and funniest conversations. I wish he had been there too because he would have loved to hang out with the Days of the New crew.
Travis traveled in another van, but the rest of the band was together.
Some highlights from the van:
First, I should explain that I am a laugher. Seriously, when something amuses me, I can laugh and laugh and laugh to the point where other people are uncomfortable because, well, maybe there was more to the joke that they didn't get, seeing as I am still laughing. I don't laugh at everything, but when something tickles me, I am seriously tickled. So that overly-sensitive funny bone, combined with slap-happiness from lack of sleep, yields wildly funny times in the van.
The overnight drive from Chicago to Detroit (so we could make a 9am soundcheck, which totally didn't happen because apparently Michigan closes all its roads during the summer) was especially funny. By sunrise, the kiddos in the back (yes, Paul, you are "kiddo" too) were watchin' a movie and Gareth, who graciously drove all but 100 miles of the journey, announces that he is watching a movie too. "It's called Trucks." Wow, did that have me in hysterics. For a solid ten minutes. To the point of tears. I still laugh thinking about it. I mean, think ... it's like he was watching a movie, but he wasn't, and it was a really boring movie, just starring a bunch of truck butts. Trucks! Ha! (There's an extra special thrill laugh to a joke when it is immediately followed by a thorough explanation of exactly why it is funny ... oh, the level of silliness in my brain is sometimes unbelievable. Hee hee.)
Paul also managed to snore a bit, which is cool. But when we hit some bumpy bumpy roads in Chicago and Paul's snores undulated with the van's movements, I couldn't hold in my laughter. He was like a snoring beat-box, with a DJ scratching his snores back and forth. Then he woke up and asked me to change lanes, which I did, but only because i was laughing so uncontrollably that i swerved a bit.
Then there was that ear massage from Malcolm after the Detroit show.
I think maybe my odd sense of humor comes from being an only child. I spent a lot of time entertaining myself, telling myself jokes, reading joke books, listening to funny songs, writing. Now that I mostly live alone, I also spend a lot of time amusing myself.
Imagine me writing "Future Mr. Used-to-Be" ... when I came up with that, I laughed heartily, probably even guffawed, then spent another hour, totally amusing myself with verses. I've done that with a lot of songs, so maybe that's why I like writing funny, clever, lyrics. It amuses me so.
Back to the van ... there was that ear massage again.
It turns out that half of the van was mildly Jewish, so Malcolm amused us with an assorted variety of JewJokes(tm). They were particularly good because of his New York accent. Lots of grandmother stuff that made us giggle, which was totally okay because, like that Seinfeld episode of the guy who converted to Judaism just for the jokes ... we were all allowed to laugh.
Really though, anything Malcolm said was hysterically funny.
There was that other time in Ohio somewhere where we saw a Continental -- you know the kind that JFK was shot in -- at a gas station. And Malcolm and I decided to be from Boston and New Zealand, respectively, and go talk to the guys with the sweet old car. So Malcolm says, "Wow, bro', that car is wicked awesome." And I'm trying to hold a straight face with a New Zealand accent, when the car's owner says "You from Boston, bro?"
And then ... we watched Talladega Nights. Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly have the same effect on me that the rest of the van does ... total uncontrollable laughter.
They must all be sick of hearing my giggles by now. But that Rachael's got some wit on her. And Gareth destroyed me several times over. (Still laughing over the simplicity of "Trucks." I guess you had to be there.)
Paul had me laughing mostly because he insisted on keeping his GPS system on the whole time, even though Gareth's GPS system on his Blackberry was far superior. So the GPS girls were arguing, then Paul would switch his to French, which was hot and all, but was like an obnoxious french backseat driver. After a while, i just had to laugh at that too.
And then ... that ear massage.
More about the tour, shows, hotel antics, girls, etc, later.
The sensational drummer Paul Culligan -- a good friend too, except that he can never spell my name properly -- picked me up last week to head out on the road with Days of the New. He brought every drum he's ever owned, so there was very little room in the car. But my accordion made it safely.
I don't have any wild stories, though things certainly seemed wild.
Two vans broke down. There were several rental cars involved. Lots of hotels. A late-night escapade to the gated-in hotel hot tub. We were busted, but not until much later in the evening when the hotel clerk said, "I saw you in the hot tub." He apparently didn't care. Either that, or he appreciated our ninja-like moves.
I DID see another boob, this time in Clarksville, Tennessee. A nice woman asked me to sign hers, then she asked some other band members, and it just popped out at some point. And yes, I caught it on video, but I won't be posting it. Sorry.
I have been taking oodles of video lately, but haven't had the time to edit it into anything exciting. Maybe I'll make a huge behind-the-scenes for a DVD-extra release.
Played a fun show at Lakeside yesterday with my band. It was 95 degrees, and we were at a swimming pool, so I played the whole show in my swimsuit. And swam during my break. I was able to pull off an inward from the high dive, purely from muscle memory. I figured I'd try it. If i busted my head, it would be a hell of a way to go. "She died during intermission," would've been the family joke. My mom was born during intermission (True story -- her dad was a trumpet player, went to the hospital for the birth between sets, then went back to the gig for the 2nd set.)
I thought the Days of the New shows went well. There's already some YouTube footage from fans of Days of the New. Check out how I played the English horn parts on the accordion. magic!
Tonight I'm playing with the Big Band again .. singing some Doris Day, some Judy Garland, some Gershwin ... good times! Back on the road with Days this weekend. Chicago, Detroit, Toledo. Forward ho!
And now for a pirate joke: What did the pirate say to the prostitute in the echo chamber? YO HO Ho (ho ho ho...)
I have been single for about two years now. This is not an advertisement. I absolutely love it.
One of my favorite parts about being single is that I feel no guilt when I tour. I never have to call home, or tell anyone where I am. My Mom is MySpace savvy and she can check my tour schedule, or my status if she's really feeling saucy. My adorable, sweet, and huge dog, Guinness, is tucked away safely at Chez Kaelin (thanks, parents), where he gets to sleep in a king-size bed, eat people-food, and play frisbee with my dad and George. He's even got his own wading pool over there. It's to the point where he goes on a hunger strike if I bring him back to my house.
Anyway, I've been on the road a lot lately and have had many adventures.
Let me share!
I was in Nashville briefly on Tuesday and Wednesday, where I hung out with some business friends, who also happen to be personal friends. I ate at the Noshville with Gina, sans Megan. I had a dream meeting at one of my favorite record labels. No worries, I'm not signing with anyone; I still have every intention of staying independent. It was just so cool to meet the folks there.
I drove back to Louisville just in time to catch Back Door Slam playing a show at Waterfront Wednesday. Their tour manager is a great friend of mine, and I think the guys in the band are pretty excellent dudes as well. They are 20 years old i think, and from the Isle of Man, (where the cats have no tails!) but Dave plays guitar like Jimi Hendrix. It's straight-up blues-rock, but it's pretty awesome to watch.
Anyway, I stayed out far too late, considering I had a 6am flight to Philly the next day.
Philadelphia Adam Brodsky picked me up at the strangely confusing Philly airport, and we went directly to breakfast at the Morning Glory diner. Delicious!
Then Señor Brodsky took me on a walking tour of Independence Square and the surrounding areas. I'm a total history nerd, so I loved seeing where Dolly Madison lived, and where the Declaration of Independence was read. Adam pointed out that the Declaration of Independence is really the best break-up letter ever. "When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to break up with you, you crazy crazy country, then you just simply have to. And here are all the reasons why."
I was rather disappointed by the Liberty Bell, being all cooped up behind a glass building. I mean, it's already cracked, so what's the problem with keeping it outside?
We explored an old cemetery -- i love old cemeteries -- and talked to a gravedigger. Well, really he was a conservastionist, and not at all a gravedigger, but gravedigger is much more exciting. He was digging up an old sunken tomb and raising it back to ground level.
So all this was done on foot by about 11am. I wandered over to the World Cafe, where I ran into Miss Laura Shine and lots of other folks I knew from "the biz," shall we say. Running on lack-of-sleep and adrenaline, I basically ran around all afternoon catching up with friends and making new ones. I love radio conferences! Plus the music is great ... I danced my booty off to Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings and drank weird "Non Comm-tinis" at the World Cafe.
I was only in Philly for a day before I had to catch a plane to Chicago. But I caught up with the Back Door Slam crew again in Philly for a brief hug and hello. Then... a train to the airport and a plane to :
Chicago Peter Searcy picked me up at O'Hare, with amazingly good timing. I mean, isn't it the biggest airport in the country? And he arrives at the EXACT moment that I step onto the passenger pickup? That's why we're pals.
We played at "The Lodge," a strange club in Lisle, one of the 'burbs. There was a ski hill there, a moose above the fireplace, and a flock of Jack Daniel's girls. You know the ones ... the wear incredibly small shirts and skirts and are always blond.
Peter and I played a kick-ass acoustic set and Seven Mary Three followed with a kick-ass rock set. And a brief acoustic set in the middle, where I played accordion and piano with them.
May I return to the subject of my love life now? Is it possible to have a crush on a band as a whole? Because I have a composite crush on Seven Mary Three. Hi boys, I know you're probably reading this, so now you know. I had 7M3 withdrawal on Sunday as Peter and I left Toledo, and I discovered this dark secret. I wish you had little TigerBeat lunchboxes that I could buy with your faces on it ... you know the ones that say things like, "Casey's my favorite!" or "Tommy's favorite color is red!"
But seriously, if you haven't heard their new record, go listen. It's really beautiful Americana-rock, and there are some really fantastic songs. Right now my favorite is "Break the Spell," because it's been stuck in my head since Sunday. "Hammer and Stone" is beeee-yoo-tiful. Their songs are catchy and smart. I mean, really, the band had a Number-1-song-of-the-year with an SAT word in the title. Listen to the record, Day and Nightdriving, and if you're a radio friend of mine, play the record!
Okay, enough. I promise not to act on said crush, boys. I'm a professional here.
In fact, I'm done with musicians. Getting involved with a fellow musician always means disaster somewhere down the road. i prefer to channel my crushes into severe accordion solos. Or at least getting a drummer to carry my keyboard.
Ooh ooh! In Chicago, one of the Jack Daniel's girls decided to take her shirt off and offer her bosom up to Peter and I. Now that's rock'n'roll! When her advances were shockingly denied (i think the direct quote was "no! no! no! no! no! no! no!") she stormed off to take her clothes off for some motorcycle dude. Most of the JD girls were nice, and so was this one, I guess. She just liked to undress a bit. Come to think of it, it was really hot in the club.
Detroit was interesting. The green room was uneventful there. Peter and I found a sweet little Mexican joint, just north of Canada, and followed that up with a round of miniature golf. I lost. Actually, I made a nice comeback and evened up the score right around the giant hippopotamus, but was defeated by the simple straight shot where the hole was on the mound. Peter killed me in that game.
Club Bijou in Toledo was loud, but a nice place. I'll be back there in two weeks with another band. There's a Dejà Vu next door. I've never been to a strip club, so I thought I'd check it out. Unfortunately, it closed right as I walked in. But fortunately, back at the hotel, the most brilliant movie of all time, Showgirls was on cable. That Elizabeth Berkeley is such a good actress.
In Louisville today, but leaving tomorrow night for a weekend run with .... Days of the New. Yes, you heard it here, but I suspect you didn't hear it here first. Rumors abound. They are probably not true. Ask me if you want confirmation on things; I love fact-checking.
In summation: Boobs seen this week: 1 Composite crushes on bands developed this week: 1 Books read this week: 1 (Water for Elephants) Cities visited this week: 7
brigid.
p.s. Go buy my record at earx-tacy! I'm rising back up the charts ... and it would be good to be floating again:)
Currently
listening
:
Day & Nightdriving
By
Seven Mary Three
Release date: 2008-02-19
When I was a kid, I remember my friends were always having to go get allergy shots. I thought I was the strong one. My friends were always sick, missing school, blowing their weak little noses, and I was sniffle-free in my school desk, quietly memorizing my state capitals.
It's payback time.
Living in grass-free New York City for six year destroyed all immunity I had to the Ohio Valley. When I moved back to Louisville several years ago, I had what I thought was a year-long bronchitis. Wrong.
One of the most joyful days I can remember is when Claritin went over-the-counter.
But the past few weeks in Louisville have been absolutely horrific on my respiratory system. I don't know if the pollens are out of control, if my dehumidifier is failing me in the basement, or if I have finally developed an immunity to Claritin.
I've tried loads of allergy meds. I've done the local honey thing. I'm about to try bee pollen, at the suggestion of a friend. Really, I hate taking medications. I'd rather just eat right and not put crap into my body.
So yesterday, I got a neti pot. I first heard about them from Six Feet Under. Then my friend Wendy came through Louisville on tour a few weeks ago, and she brought her trusty neti pot with her. After this weekend of playing loads of shows and being unable to breathe, I decided to go for it.
The lovely Catherine at Whole Foods picked out a cute little turquoise neti pot for me and did a great mime imitation of how to use it. And when I got home, I poured warm salt water up my nose and it drained out the other one, along with a whole bunch of icky gook. Then I blew my nose for about five minutes. Then I could breathe. I could taste things. Amazing.
I've done it three times so far. We'll see if it can fix my clogged clogged sinuses for good.
The CD Release show was fun fun fun. The Air Devils Inn show was fun fun fun. My trip to Chicago was grand. More about that another time. Next week, I'll be in Nashville, Louisville, Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit, and Toledo. I can't wait!!
* Jason at earx-tacy had the best comment on the Elvis story when he likened it to: Batman randomly showing up at his door at midnight and saying, "I need your help for a mission!" Yes, the Batman light definitely appeared in my sky.
* I am amazed by how many people read my blog. I'm also sort of embarassed that people copied and pasted it onto many other websites because I don't want Mr. Costello to think I'm some sort of stalker freak. But I suspect he knows better. Maybe I'm just paranoid.
* I was the subject of a sermon! At a church! A real church. Who would've thought a weird little Jewish-Catholic-Agnostic mutt like me would be inspiration in a church?!? Apparently, I am a good example of moxie. (I think I might title my next record: moxie. What a good word.) Do I get some sort of certificate? or plaque?
* I went to Chicago last weekend and played a little bar. The Ladybirds from Louisville were there the following night, so I left a drink in the well for Sarah. But the surly bartendress never gave it to her. Oh well.
* I took an architectural riverboat cruise, wore lots of sunscreen, but got completely burned on my scalp, where my braids parted. But i know SO much about Chicago history, and I think Captain Kevin, our tour guide, should be a preacher.
* My family-friendly CD Release party was fun. My not-so-family-friendly party will be this Friday at Air Devils Inn. 10:00. Come join the rock.
* I didn't sleep for four days after playing with Elvis Costello. Which made my Live Lunch even more exciting.
* I sold a bunch of CD's at several shows, which made me think no one would buy it from earx-tacy. But i am the 2 seller at earx-tacy this week, just behind Death Cab for Cutie. So apparently, some of you bought it from them. And that is extra cool because it counts for SoundScan and the Nielson ratings. So thanks.
* I voted this morning. In college, I was a political theory/philosophy major. My advisor was a big proponent of abstention. She's right; my vote has never made or broken a race. But for some reason, I still voted. I wish they still gave out those stickers that said, "I voted today." Or at least a gold star.
* I head to Philly next week. Then Chicago. Then Michigan. Then Toledo.
* If you're in Louisville, please buy my CD from earx-tacy. I've got quite a home equity line to pay off. And if I have to foreclose, I'll just move to Nashville, then you'll never see me again.
I'm not feeling particularly creative today. Maybe that's because I'm up to my neck in receipts and bank statements. Today is business Brigid.
Bye!
Currently
listening
:
Momofuku
By
Elvis Costello & the Imposters
Release date: 2008-05-06
First, let me point out that my Mom wrote "Omg" in a text message.
I was still grinning madly in my car when I read the message, stopped at a red-light on Broadway, on my way to the Palace Theatre, for a soundcheck with .... ELVIS COSTELLO.
You know how you have a wireless internet connection in your house? And you get to name it? Well, mine is named Elvis. And the password is Costello. For years, that's been the code. If you know where I live, swing by and use my wireless internet. I figure if my neighbors are cool enough to guess the password, -- most people guess "Graceland" -- then they are cool enough to use my internet.
Anyway, the point of that is that I am a HUGE Elvis Costello fan, and I have been for quite some time.
I don't know where to begin in this blog. I should explain how this all came about, but right now I want to recap the nights' events before I forget.
So I'll start with the voicemail.
"Brigid, This is, uh, Elvis Costello. I'm down at the radio station here, and I've been given your number. You wanna give me a call? --. That's --. Bye now."
I'm not sure what came over me, but an overwhelming sense of confidence. I immediately returned the call, and he answered on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Hi there, it's Brigid, your accordion player."
"Brigid, darling, how are you?"
"Fantastic, thank you, you?"
There was some brief chit-chat, and he asked if I could be at sound check at 4:30. No problem. I hung up the phone.
Then I screamed. I screamed, and I squealed. I jumped up and down like I was in a Molly Ringwald movie and the popular boy just asked me out. I continued to scream. I went outside to see if there was a neighbor or someone I could tell.
* * *
4:30ish
Laura Shine mentions on the air that I will be playing with Elvis Costello at the Palace that night, which fuels the "Omg" text message from my mom. And about 10 phone calls from random musicians who want to play with me at the Palace, who don't understand that I'm not opening for him ... that I am going to be an Imposter! Well, an imposter Imposter.
I'm canceling my afternoon's lessons and calling Peter Searcy to get him to bring me my electric accordion, which I had left in his studio.
This town is so small. Word spreads quickly. My phone is ringing like mad. It will die shortly there-after from responding to text messages. (Sorry i didn't respond)
* * *
So I am whisked into the Palace by several production managers. The Imposters are on-stage already, but Mr. Costello is not there yet. The guitar tech, Bobby, is tuning up Elvis's twelve beautiful guitars, including a 1956 Les Paul and a brand new Taylor 12-string. So beautiful. Jeff, the soundman, asks me if my accordion is electric (yes), and he breathes a sigh of relief.
I mill around a bit backstage at the Palace, which is the most beautiful theatre I've ever been in. It's built to look like an Italian villa, with the ceiling charmed to look like the night sky (just like the dining hall at Hogwarts). I introduce myself to the Imposters, who are super-nice, although Steve Nieve doesn't seem as thrilled about my presence as the rest. I don't care. Steve Nieve is my hero. I learned to play rock-n-roll keyboards by listening to him and Chuck Leavell. I am meeting Steve Nieve!!!
Then I hear a beautiful voice asking, "Is she here yet?" Just as he asks this, Elvis Costello turns his head and looks right at me. I smile widely (actually, I don't think I had stopped smiling since his voicemail) and shake his hand.
"So good to meet you," I say.
"Thank you so much for coming down here," he says. Really, now. Imagine this. Elvis Costello is thanking ME for coming down to soundcheck. As my mom might text: Wtf????
I am re-introduced to the band, and then step aside while the boys soundcheck. Then it is my turn. What song am I playing? I'm not sure, but I don't care. This is why I learned all of my scales in piano lessons years ago.
Elvis looks at me and says: "B-flat."
And he launches into a three-quarter-time version of Lou Reed's "Femme Fatale." He even looks over and whispers in my ear, "It's just 1-4 in the solo part." I am in heaven.
I think at first he thought it would be fun to have a local musician play, but during soundcheck, he figured out that I really am a professional musician -- not just a girl in pigtails with a gimmick.
My favorite thing in the world is playing in other people's bands. I love performing my own stuff, but if you've ever seen me play in Peter Searcy's band, you've seen that same goofy ol' grin I have on my face when we are making music.
Good music with good people. That's all I want.
* * *
Dinner.
So Patrick, the production manager, graciously invited me to dine with everyone downstairs for a catered meal. I didn't much feel like eating, but how could I refuse?
I headed downstairs where the Imposters were lingering around the buffet line. They joked about the hazing rituals for new Imposters. Pete was first to the food, but I followed right after and helped myself to a plate of green beans and potatoes that I barely touched. There were several tables, but I sat with the boys in the band. Elvis was not around, and I figured he would eat in his own dressing room.
He came in and sat down right next to me, with a typed and printed set list, and immediately started talking about what songs should be cut/added. It was a totally normal thing to happen before a show. Peter Searcy and I do this every night on the road. Honestly, this didn't feel any different, except that I had never played any of the songs before. Talking to Elvis or Steve was completely normal, and I wasn't the slightest bit nervous. Every few minutes, I had to remind myself that I was eating dinner next to Elvis Costello and sitting at the same table as the Imposters.
We got to talking about bands I play in, and my new record, and other accordion players he knew in Nashville. We talked about a polka player we both knew, and I mentioned that I had played a party several months back with this polka player and Cowboy Jack Clement. Elvis exclaimed, "Cowboy Jack?! Have you seen his movie? Do you know him?"
"Yes, I do. I've got his number; should we call him?"
We didn't call, but i told the story how I had played musical saw with Cowboy Jack Clement.
And that's when Elvis Costello said to me, Brigid Kaelin (oh my freakin' god!!), "You play the musical saw? Do you have it with you?"
So he grabbed a guitar, and we rushed to a rehearsal room to jam on the musical saw. We talked more, and Elvis realized that I am indeed a professional musician, not just some chick with a CD, and said I should probably play on more than one song. I, of course, agreed! Then Steve Nieve, the king of the theremin, was interested in the acoustic theremin, AKA the musica saw, so I gave him a brief lesson.
I think Steve was opening a bit more. I hadn't yet told him that he was my hero. Some things you have to keep to yourself. For a while.
Anyway, we decided to play "Mr. Feathers" during the encore on the saw, and Jeff the amazing soundman set up microphones and we soundchecked the saw.
(By the way, I am still freaking out. Right now. As I type this. I haven't come down. I just ran into my friend Judd at Heine Brothers and passed some of my crazy energy on to him. eek! eek! I played with Elvis Costello last night!)
* * *
The show.
Elvis Costello and the Imposters took the stage at 8:04. No opener.
I went out in the audience to listen, but I immediately went backstage. Why? Because, although it sounded better out front, I didn't have a close-up of Steve Nieve's fingers. I stood by Bobby the amazing guitar tech all night and watched Steve work his genius.
I sang along backstage to "Veronica" and "Red Shoes," and clapped enthusiastically like a big nerd. No one backstage is supposed to clap, ha. But i didn't care.
Then, he says something like: "So I was down at the radio station today, WFPK (well he said WFPX at first, but Su in the front row corrected him, so all's well), and they told me about this local girl who plays a demon piano accordion." And I could hear the screams from the side of the stage. (Thank you !!!!!!!) "So we thought we'd bring her out to play a little. Please welcome Brigid Kaelin."
I strutted out with my accordion and my red shoes. The angels definitely wanted to wear my red shoes because I tell you, heaven can't possibly be any better than where I was at that very moment. Standing ovations before I started, Elvis grinning ear-to-ear, and me ready to rock.
So we played "Femme Fatale," and the whole crowd screamed during my solos, and he did this a cappella part at the end where we all went off-mic and just sung that part of the song "she's a femme fatale she's a femme fatale" and i kept looking down and seeing people i knew and wondering how they got such great seats then looking to my left and seeing elvis costello wink at me and thinking holy hell, I am on stage.!!!!!!
Aaaaaaaack!
But still, I wasn't nervous. I'm more nervous right now, blogging about it. Last night on stage, it was pure music. I was playing great music with phenomenal people. To the most appreciative audience I've ever encountered. In the most beautiful city. In the most beautiful theatre.
As i floated off the stage, I heard Elvis say, "We're gonna bring her back later to play something else."
He rocked the show away, and I came back during the second encore.... with my MUSICAL SAW chair in place.
Positioning yourself in a skirt, seated, with your legs spread enough to hold a saw, is a feat in itself. But then Elvis started the creepy little tune off his new record. It reminded me a lot of "God's Comic," which is a personal favorite of mine. "Mr. Feathers" was awesome.
Those of you who took pictures -- please email them to me at brigid@brigidkaelin.com Please!!!
After "Mr. Feathers," Elvis whispered in my ear, "Now let's play some rock and roll," in that dreamy accent. I picked up the accordion and he started into "Pump it Up."
I mouthed to the fabulous bass player from across the stage, "What key?"
"B." (Thanks, Davey!)
And did we ever pump it up.
The crowd was jumping, the band was rocking, and I was right next to Steve Nieve again, who was playing brilliant little riffs.
Being far more comfortable talking with my hero on-stage than I was in the dressing room, I decided to have a little fun with Mr. Nieve. He was playing a little riff. And I repeated it right back to him on my accordion. He did another one, and I repeated it back. This time he noticed. He looked at me cock-eyed, like he was almost about to smile. He played something more complicated. I gave it right back. Then we had a little game of call-and-response between the organ and the accordion. I rocked a bit. Elvis came over and stood right next to me as I ripped into a solo. He also introduced the band during the rock-out portion of the song. Davey on bass. Pete on drums. Steve ..boards. And Brigid on musical saw and accordion. I got a freakin' BAND introduction!!!! I was an Imposter for a night! An Imposter Imposter, I guess, but an Imposter nonetheless.
And at the end of the song, as I was unplugging, Steve Nieve turned to me and said, "Do you need me to carry that off-stage for you?" He grabbed my accordion from me, and scurried off-stage.
Oh My God, Steve Nieve just carried my accordion off stage.
I think I love him.
That's when I decided to tell him, "Steve, you are my hero. I didn't want to tell you that earlier. But seriously, playing with you has been the coolest part of all of this.
Hugs all around backstage, and they rushed back for two more rockers. I ran out into the crowd to jump and scream and sing, "Peace, Love, and Understanding," at the top of my lungs.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, Elvis Costello, for being adventurous and for being a real musician. And thank you, Steve, Davey, and Pete, for allowing me into your magical world for an evening.
Oh yeah, those angels DEFINITELY wanna wear my red shoes.
Derby, Mint Jubilee, 7M3, Parties, Garde
Current mood: busy
La la la la la.
That's a little line from my new record: La, la, la, la, la.
I put it in there, intending to find lyrics to plug in, but decided that the "La la la" actually fit the song better. And i've been singing that a lot lately. "La la la la la," because honestly, I just feel like singing.
It's spring. People are happy again. I am sleeping far too long because my allergies are so bad I can't open my eyes in the morning. But I don't care. It's warm.
I planted part of my garden on Sunday. Post-Derby gardening. Every gardener in Louisville knows you musn't plant before Derby. This makes the Sunday after Derby especially auspicious.
I've got a front yard full of edible plants. The chives have the most glorious purple globe flowers. The oregano and mint are on opposing sides of the sidewalk eying each other suspiciously .. which one will jump the sidewalk first? And my tomatoes live in a little island bed in the middle of my front yard. Yes, I am that neighbor who plants the vegetable garden amidst her landscape plants in the front yard. Stop by, help yourself to some basil. Just don't eye me oddly for putting peppers by the shrubbery. Your little boxy hedge row looks nice, and it keeps your yippy dog in your yard, but you can't eat it.
* * *
Derby.
I just love Louisville this time of year. The celebrations began three weeks ago, but I was out of town so often, i only caught the last week.
Thursday night, Peter Searcy opened for Seven Mary Three at 4th Street Live. We played at the Angel's Rock Bar, where the waitresses don't even have to get dressed to come to work. I think I wore more when I was a lifeguard. These girls strut around all night, ejaculating syringes full of J-ello shots into the mouths of drooling out-of-towners. My parents came to the show. It was nice of my dad to pretend not to notice the girls. To their credit, the servers were all super-nice.
The Seven Mary Three show was fun. I played accordion with them again on "Upside Down," a Gram Parsons-esque tune off their new record. We also rocked out "Dead Flowers," and the crowd cheered wildly at the "Kentucky Derby Day" line.
Bedtime Thursday evening: 5:30am
Friday morning: Oaks Day! Brunch with Peter and Layla, and a bunch of running around. Then Stacy Stiletto painted my face all vintage glam, while Trudy gave me a big ol' Rita Hayworth 'do.
The Mint Jubilee!
If you're going to wear a red satin dress, then you've got to go all out with it. No hiding behind black flats or a ponytail. I donned the reddest lips you've ever seen and let my curls fly down my back. It was fun fun fun.
I joined Mr. and Mrs. Peter Searcy down the red carpet special celebrities-only VIP entrance to the Mint Jubilee at the Galt House, where photographers snapped photos and reporters snatched soundbytes. Regular, plebian, party-goers took out their cel phones to take photos of us as we walked in. Granted, they had no idea who we were. It's all about the framing.
When I ran into some photographer friends of mine there, who were on assignment for Louisville Magazine, we had oodles of fun pretending they were the paparazzi. Several times, I walked through the room, and they ran up and took about a thousand photos of me, exclaming, "Ms. Kaelin, Ms. Kaelin, over here!" A few other party-goers had their photos taken with me later, just because they thought I was someone famous. Hee hee hee, so fun.
I then party-hopped over to the Greys' house, where Danny Flanigan and the Rain Chorus were playing. Again ... i made quite the entrance in my red satin dress, followed by my friends in their tuxes. Even Danny Flanny didn't recognize me.
Maybe I should have been insulted when people said, "oh my god, i didn't recognize you; you look so pretty!!!!" But that would be a silly silly silly way to take that.
I like playing dress up. I mean, if you're going to wear a red dress, you can't be a wallflower. Actually, I think it's impossible to be shy with a red dress on.
Bedtime Friday evening: 7:00am
There is no last call during Derby.
Saturday, Derby Day
I stopped by a Derby party around 11am, after four hours of sleep, and grabbed some "breakfast." Then went home and cleaned up a bit, heading back out to a party around 1:00pm. Then, mostly party-hopped the rest of the afternoon and evening.
I danced a bit at the Johnny Berry show, but I couldn't handle the smoke. Bedtime: 2:30am Ok, this is beginning to feel like a captain's log, so I'm just going to stop. I have much sleep to catch up on.
****
Come to Live Lunch at WFPK in louisville on Friday! Or listen to the streaming broadcast at www.wfpk.org. Noon-1pm, Eastern time, I'm playing for an hour with my band.
Saturday May 10, i'm playing a set for Kentucky Homefront, a live-audience radio taping. Shannon Lawson will be there too, so expect much fun and good ol' Kentucky music.
and mark your calendars: Louisville CD Release Party: Sunday, May 18, 4:00pm @ St. Francis of Assisi. It's free and it's all ages.
chipper
indescribable
busy