Da Goddess

I’ve mentioned the musical instruments throughout the house. I know I have. Did I mention the studio? Did I mention the light system? Yeah, I’m for real. This is how I live.

And this is what it looks like during a break in the playing.

Every once in a while, I go through all my favorite videos on YouTube and just sit there, enjoying.

Here is of my favorites. Odd, but still a favorite. And it’s not just because it’s Zach (although it helps). I think it’s the utter playfulness of the video itself. Whatever. I had to watch a couple times.

And now I must go bring up the other half of my right lung.

P.S. I’ve posted this before, but I’m posting it again because we should all laugh today. Oh, and if watch closely, you might catch a glimpse of me in the audience.

I’ve been watching LD from my perch upstairs. He’s down in the studio, listening to his Cheap Trick CD (yeah, I went old school on his ass for his mini-gift). He’s sitting at the drums, quietly playing along.

Beats us dancing in the kitchen in our socks, which was just weird.

Okay, what’s really weird is the fact that 30 years ago, this was MY favorite album and I was all excited over it. Now it’s his. And he’s all excited about it.

By the way: CHEAP TRICK ROCKS!

Had to do it.

Because I can. And then I must sleep. This post has already kept me up longer than it should. Like an HOUR longer. Silly me can’t code.

Oh, and by the way, note to self and other interested parties: using a new computer means none of your old files are on hand. No rhino watermark, no awesome fonts, and arrrrrrrrghh! And the current java doesn’t work with WP. I can’t seem to find the older version to download yet. Sigh. All my favorite settings with PSP X2 have to be re-entered. Just sayin’ cuz I can’t seem to stop.

Only edits were cropped to size and the addition of LRP. Otherwise, SOOC.

In the last photo: Tab, Buster, Doug Gay (Tab’s drummer), and I want to say his name is Mike…but that last guy, I’m not 100% on at the moment.

This was a hassle getting the photos posted. Enjoy because I may kick the computer to do what I want it to do and it’s not doing it.

Two words: Tab Benoit.

OMG

Awesome concert.

Gave the band the heads up on a jam just around the corner after and they showed up. Cool fucking night.

And yes, I’m just sayin’. So sue me.

Got to hang out with some of my favorite people ever. Great music. Got LD a couple of surprises.

Best news is that Tab’s in town for another show and that means more great entertainment for me. Sometimes…life is very good.

“I woke up this mornin’…”

Such are the lyrics of “The Short Blues” by Neil Innes. That’s it. The entire song. Seriously.

I shouldn’t know that, but I do. Now you do, too.

Just sayin’. I’m so going to stop saying that. Sigh.

And how appropriate that I should post something so brief. My blogging has been entirely too lax, but I’ve been busy getting ready for Little Dude’s arrival on Sunday. For some reason, I thought he was getting in earlier in the day and it turns out he’s getting in after 8pm. Argh! Why did I do that? Oh well. I suppose I could change the flight.

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Also, for some reason, I thought Christmas was on Thursday next week. Uh, nope. Not this year. D’oh! My blonde runs much deeper than previously thought.

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At the post office yesterday, I noticed a sign on one of the bulletin boards (behind glass) touting Angels. I thought it quite wonderful to see the folks at the post office supporting such an awesome group. Go USPS! Go Angels!

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I’m apparently living in a time warp (and yes, I, too, am thinking Rocky Horror — which I just watched this weekend, twice — as I type that). Blame it all on my roots…I showed up in boots and I’m listening to a lot of country music lately. Actually, I’m listening to a very wide range of music, but country’s featured prominently. Yesterday was Dan Seals. Today it’s Garth. I’ll return to Dan again though because there are just to many good songs to pass up. Not to worry, the blues is still king around here. Country is just blues with a twang.

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While I’m on the subject of music, go do yourself and your loved ones a big favor and buy Patti’s daughter’s CD — Pleasures of Hope. This is seriously one of the loveliest CDs I’ve heard in a long time. Alex may have been 17 when she recorded this, but there’s a great deal of maturity in her playing. I gave a copy to Buster for Christmas (early) and awoke to beautiful Celtic music the other morning. We listened to the CD several times through as we cleaned and decorated the house (with instruments, not Christmas stuff…we’re weird around here). I actually danced about as I swept the floor, imagining myself at an old fashioned dance (kind of like when I go to the Rendezvous dances). There’s not a bad song in the bunch and I dare even the most hardened of you to not fall in love with the music. That’s right, I’m daring you! I should note that we had the CD blasting (that’s Buster’s thing) and the recording holds up very well.

So, go pay Patti a visit or you can order the CD directly from CD Baby. Go on. I’ll wait. (You can thank me later.)

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While you’re in the shopping mood, you may buy me the Canon 7D. Yep. Still at the top of my Christmas list. Again, I’ll wait for you to do that and then come back.

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As I mentioned earlier, LD gets in town on Sunday, so blogging will be sporadic and I will NOT be taking the computer with me when I go to San Diego for Christmas. I’ll try my best to do a little creative publishing and to have something of substance to share. No guarantees though.

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Computing just got personal.

Gotta run. The computer is wanting to update and I have to close all applications to do so.

Aren’t you glad you stopped in to read my blather?

P.S. For some reason, old school gmail has decided to not show chat anymore. What’s up with that?

P.P.S. Is there anyone interested in last year’s Christmas blues?

Especially little old bluesmen.

I just got a call from one. Like right now. He was flirtin’ with me from the get-go. Offering to take me on a cruise. (Second time I’ve had that offer this year…why oh why don’t I have my damn passport already??) Anyhow, after I get some sleep, I’ll call him back and we’ll go meet to look through photos I took of him playing a few songs with the band. We’ll flirt plenty back and forth, I’m sure.

And with any luck, I’ll have a wonderful new friend who can show me Vegas through historic eyes.

P.S. I knew I had this guy. He was making eyes at me from the stage, mugging for the camera. Not just anyone’s….mine. And then when we were talking later, he kept trying to look down my shirt. Old or not, he has the spark.

Ran into an old blues pal last night at — get this — Hooters.

So, I sat down in the booth while Buster went to comb his hair. I looked over at the bar (we’d almost sat right there!) and this guy looked awfully familiar, except he had more hair than I remembered. I kept trying to imagine my friend with hair. I kept looking. It got to the point where I was pretty sure someone was gonna tell me, “if you keep staring at me like that, you’ll have to buy me flowers.” I wasn’t staring to be rude, I was staring because I thought I knew the guy. Finally, I asked Buster if I should just go say hello…knowing full well I would go do it anyway. I mean, I figured if I was wrong, no big deal, right? And so I got up, walked over, and said hello. Sure as shit, it was him.

Two minutes later, I’m being introduced to the guy responsible for getting my friend his record deal, to the guys in the band, to just about everyone in the whole place. I was treated like a long lost friend. It was just so cool. Better still, he lives here part time and is willing to sit for some photos for me. And we should be doing an interview as well — it’ll likely be better than the first one we did years ago in a hotel room with a bunch of drunken partiers. Hey, come to think of it, that was the first time I’d met Buster…weird! (Cue Twilight Zone music)

I’ll let you know when we finally get to do this.

In the meantime, here’s my favorite song by the Stoney Curtis Band.

See? No hair in the video! Now he has hair. This is why I was confused. Plus I couldn’t see his nose ring from the angle I was at.

There’s that old saying, “the Lord works in mysterious ways.” Yes, indeed.

I woke up not feeling terribly on my game today. Yesterday. Whatever. (It’s just after midnight and still “today” to me.) My back was doing very bad things. I was having odd pains. It just wasn’t how I wanted to wake up feeling.

I knew I had to do whatever it took to get to feeling better because I had a trip to the airport ahead of me. I also figured there’d be a long conversation or two coming up and I wanted to be prepared for whatever, how ever long it took.

I didn’t count on a few other things that happened though. Not by a long shot.

Like, what the hell was REO Speedwagon doing playing a gig for ice dancers? With Rick Springfield? On NBC today. What’s up with that? Insanity? A sign of the apocalypse? No, wait…the sign was the long haired male ice dancer (the blond) who started rockin’ out way too enthusiastically behind the band at the end. And Rick “wanna play my guitar with me, little skater girl” Springfield cozying up behind some skater babe. It was bizarre. In the extreme.

And the day only got weirder after that.

To start, I met a couple who used to live in San Diego. One of the first things the woman asked was, “are you into the blues?” I think my emphatic response was suitably convincing. And there were a few other questions she asked that made me smile, that gave me hope. One of the questions was, “how much do you charge for photographing a band?” Another question was one that was appended with an observation that kind of thrilled me. Nothing major. Nothing that really needs to be shared with the general populace, just something that struck a chord and made me smile.

I guess I should backtrack a bit. Okay. So, I drove to the airport — sans directions (I was feeling confident) — to pick up Buster. I made it there on time and without problem. He didn’t quite understand where I was parked, as I bucked his “system” and didn’t park where he normally parked, but we still found each other without fail. However, I wasn’t allowed to drive home. No, he wanted to take control. Fine, fine. Such a guy thing. Whatever. Anyhow, he asked if I wanted to go see a show because his friend had just texted him about this thing (he was performing and they wanted a good audience) and of course I said yes. I’m a show whore, apparently. Tell me there’s something amazing going on and I’m all over it. Anyhow, despite the jet lag, Buster was up for this as well.

So we get to the Hilton and find B’s friend (the guitarist) and they start talking and suddenly it’s all, “oh, there’s that bassist…” which led to us going over to talk to the guy who, in turn, ends up being one half of the couple who used to live in San Diego. That led to our discussion of a variety of things, which led to some possible work. Synchronicity, baby. Not only are they into blues, they’re also into jazz. He plays bass. She sings. She also acts. And I now have the names and numbers of about 40 different people I “should really know here in town for the kind of work” I do. Yeah. (See this? I’m smiling.)

Oh, the show? Fantastic! Lani Misalucha stars in “Voices”. This woman is phenomenal. I can’t think of any other way to put it. She has a beautiful voice, a fun sense of humor, and she’s surrounded by a lot of talent. It was simply one of the most amazing couple hours I’ve spent here. She sang everything from Britney Spears to “Nessun Dorma” (from Turandot). Her range was incredible. And she had a little “voice trouble”. If that’s her show with a little voice trouble…I mean, seriously, this woman has some major pipes. Anyhow, if you’re coming to Vegas, look up “Voices” at the Hilton. You won’t be sorry. (I kind of can’t wait to have LD here because I want him to see the show…somehow…some way…)

The mysterious ways…as if I needed something more beyond the great entertainment, followed by a very good light dinner, I came home to find a special something in the mail. After crying and hugging Buster and then crying some more, let’s just say that it was really one of the most significant pieces of mail I’ve ever received. Everything is much clearer. Everything is starting to make sense a little more than it did before.

Thank you, God. Thank you.

I can breathe a little better now.

P.S. The cat is ignoring me as I suspected.

Despite feeling low because I’m away from the family, I’m easily cheered. Go figure.

First, as I was putting fresh sheets on the bed last night, the cat decided that was the greatest thing in the world and he went absolutely nutso. He was running around the whole upstairs. In circles. (My cat Lindsay used to do that, too, but not over bedmaking.) He was meowing up a storm. Thoroughly enjoying himself. At one point, he decided he was worn out and plopped himself down on the comforter. I needed to move it and I picked it up with him snuggled in the folds. I set him gently on the floor and he just looked up at me and meowed. I giggled. I’d been giggling the whole time he was being silly. It was amusing. Then, when I finally crawled in bed this morning, he decided he wanted company and did the typical kitty purr/rub/meow thing until I scratched under his chin and behind the ears. He misses Buster, that’s for sure. Okay, I do, too. But if I’m going to have to rattle around in a big house alone, I’d rather do it with PJ by my side, under my feet, etc. Easily amused, indeed.

A huge smile crossed my face when I realized the premiere of Six Generations of the Blues was tonight. Unfortunately, we don’t get the channel. But it’s online! Woo hoo! Why is this such a big deal? My friends are featured in this documentary. Yep. During part II, at 23:25, there they are. Plus, it’s an all around great look at the blues and has my darling Honeyboy in it. Anyhow, Chris James and Patrick Rynn are two of the best contemporary purveyors of traditional Chicago blues. Yeah, sounds like a contradiction, but these guys are the real deal. Basically my age and yet you could plop them down in the late 40s, early 50s with Muddy Waters and they’d fit right in. They’re better than good, they’re great! (If you go watch the doco, the song they play — “Mr. Coffee” — at the 23 minute mark on pt. II is my favorite.) Also performing is the equally great Bob Corritore. I don’t know their drummer in this setting. Anyhow, I am so pleased the guys are getting some attention because what they do is so incredibly special. They are special. So deserving. By the way, Mr. Coffee is their dear friend Tomcat Courtney.

I thought I’d be going out late last night to a local jam, but ended up having too much fun with the cat (see first paragraph). However, my hair ended up looking fabulous. Woke up with it still looking fabulous. Kind of a shame to let it go to waste with just me staring at it in the mirror. I may have to find a jam tonight. Or not. Depends on how I feel in a couple hours.

Oh, and there’s another thing that has me smiling. I caught a sneak peek of the show Meet the Natives on the Travel Channel. It’s totally delightful. The premise is interesting — send a group of men from an island to the U.S. and let them have the American Experience. Each man is special and has his own charm, but I, of course, was quite taken with Kuai, who is called “The Happy Man”. As described on the Travel Channel website: “His job at home is simply to generate love and happiness, and as he says before leaving for America, ‘I will make them happy! It’s great!’ He hugs, smiles and giggles his way around America, connecting with everyone he meets.” How’s that for a job? I love it!

So there it is. I was down in the dumps and I just happitized myself. I wish I could do that all the time. Guess this “new life, new attitude” thing has been good for me.

Now, please, everyone go watch Six Generations. Make me even happier.

Each Monday, we’d love to have you join us here and at Toy. We feature a visual prompt that will hopefully stir you to remember something — something grand or something simple and plain — write what you feel. Just let yourself go and rememebr when.

Please link up with Mr. Linky below or at Fractured Toy so we can come visit you!

Music. It’s been a part of my life since Day One. My grandfather played music for us all the time. Live music. He could play just about any instrument. And he did. But at home, I recall our little Fisher Price Music Box record player with the five plastic records and songs like “Hickory Dickory Dock” and “Edelweiss”. We also had a regular record player and I’m pretty sure I drove my sister crazy with my endless playing of “Waltzing Matilda”. Of course, that all changed when she got me hooked on Bobby Sherman, the Partridge Family, and the Monkees. Yeah, I listened to all that. I sang along, daydreamed about meeting my music idols, and kept the music playing as often as possible.

Still, despite the records and all, I’d keep going back to the time spent with my grandfather. There was something about the interaction, sitting side-by-side at the organ and being taught middle C, how to play “Alley Cat” (when to chime in with “meow”), and then having little concerts for my grandmother after a lesson. Records didn’t and couldn’t compare to that, but in a way, they served as an extension of the musical education my grandfather gave us kids.

Like any kid, however, I grew up to develop some diverse musical interests. My older sister (once she hit her teens) introduced me to Tommy Bolin, Journey, Led Zeppelin, Foghat, Fleetwood Mac, et al. (At one point, she took me to see Pablo Cruise at the fair.) Then there was my own exploration into rock and I’m sure my parents rolled their eyes as I placed Blondie’s Parallel Lines on my Christmas list, but they bought it for me anyway. Back then, I’d also walk down to 7-Eleven and buy lyrics magazines (they had those!) along with my teen mags and the occasional 45.

Because I had a big sister, I oftentimes found I was ahead of the curve musically. And I definitely wasn’t afraid to branch out. I’d listen to the local college radio station or watch Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert and soak up everything I could. I discovered Frank Zappa, Cheap Trick, the Ramones, John Cougar (back when he went by that name and I became a fan of his version of “I Need A Lover” instead of Pat Benatar’s) and a million other bands that my friends had never heard of.

I’d go to dances down at local swim and tennis club (that’s SoCal for “rec center”) and request songs from bands the DJs didn’t know. Same thing with mainstream local radio stations (there were nights when I couldn’t get the college station because of where we lived). I’d call, I’d ask, I’d beg and plead and the DJs had nary a clue. Eventually they caught up. As did my friends. I stayed somewhat ahead of the curve until just after high school, when I got too busy to pay attention. (Notice how I virtually ignored any dabbling I might have done with disco beyond anything that appeared on Parallel Lines? Yeah, I did that on purpose.)

At some point, work (and money) became more important than music. Oh, it was there in the background. I was still buying albums and tapes like crazy, with Cheap Trick and Jimmy Buffett (an unlikely pairing, but whatever) leading the race more often than not. Concerts weren’t a priority unless I went with a boyfriend (to see Buffett, the Who [their first Final World Tour], John Cougar [Sky Show], Simon & Garfunkel [1983…and I was so sick with a fever of 103 that I remember very little of the show] and more than I can recall thanks to faulty wiring in my brain). It wasn’t until I got tickets to see Fleetwood Mac and took my sister (yes, my big sister!) to the concert, that I once again felt that surge, that thrill of live music run through me the way it should. First, it was the fact that I took my sister. Second, it was because I took my sister. But there it was. I had started that concert thing again and I went every chance I got.

At some point, I saw Bob Seger twice in one week. Once in San Diego, once in Los Angeles. Rod Stewart…I could have seen him every night of the week and been happy. The thrill of live music was in me and I couldn’t not go.

I also went to a few concerts down at the old Bacchanal (it’s now a computer store). The best of all shows was Mick Fleetwood (swooooooooon!) with Pete Bardens. The worst: Tanya Tucker. Don’t ask.

It makes me a little crazy to think of how much music there’s always been in my life and how much I have missed out on because of work, finances, kids, or just plain occasional disinterest. But there it is.

Now, music is often at the center of what I’m doing to the point where I’m so busy doing things, that I miss out on the actual performance. That’s sort of what happens when you’re helping out behind the scenes. Still, I work to find a way to get my fix and I’m very fortunate to have friends who make that possible (you know enough people in bands and there ya go).

For me, the real reward with music is being able share it with others. I love to bring music of all types into my children’s and friends’ lives. Even my mom and dad and I (I was going to say “play musical CDs”…as in “musical chairs”, but that’s silly) occasionally share music. It’s nice to have a broad enough love of music where that can happen. That’s what I want for my kids. They don’t have to like everything I like, just as I certainly didn’t go for everything my dad played (Herb Alpert’s Whipped Cream & Other Delights and anything Chuck Mangione, anyone?). But it did give me a foundation, as did my grandfather’s big band, ragtime, dixieland music did from which to grow, and somewhere I could return for comfort and familiarity. I want my kids to have that, too.

Boy, when I get down to it, I can ramble, can’t I? And this certainly isn’t as eloquent as I’d like it to be. Whatever. It was absolute free association that drew me through it beginning to…well, right about here.

So what about you? When you think of records, what comes to mind? Play along on your blog and Remember When. Hit up Mr. Linky to add your story so we can remember along with you.

Going through my last several shoots (prior to the camera going caput), I’ve been trying to pull shots I know the bands will like. I’ll be sending images to them and trying to get them displayed on the blues society site as well. Also trying to get myself pumped up for a birthday party for a singer this weekend.

Anyhow… First up is Hugh Gaskins & the G-String Daddies.

A lot of the performers gathering for this party are people I know. Some, however, I’ve only exchanged emails with for the most part. Then there will be a couple of rather noted performers and that would be fun. Especially if I could find a camera to use. Better believe I’m going to be looking for gear to borrow! I want to be able to give the hostess a CD of the images afterward so she can remember how much fun her birthday celebration was.

I know. Me showing up somewhere without a camera shouldn’t be a big deal, but that’s who I am. I’m the photographer. People expect it. In fact, last Saturday, I got in my friend’s car to head out to our big competition finals and she looked at me as if I were crazy. “Where’s the camera? Aren’t you going to shoot today?” And then I told her what happened. “Girl, we gotta get you a camera. That’s your job! That’s you.” Yes, yes it is.

We’ll see what happens. I also have Train Song Festival on Saturday with LD. I love wandering around down at the park and listening to the stories and music. It’s the perfect time of year for this. But it also feels weird to be going sans camera. As will next weekend when I have another blues event with rare performances and big blues artists in town.

I’ll figure it all out. I always do.

In the meantime, I have lots of photos to sort through and lucky you…you get to see them!

For what it’s worth, one of my photos is currently gracing the inside page of a new CD booklet. Unfortunately, the artists credited the wrong photographer. Since I know them pretty well, I emailed them and they’ve promised to correct it with the next pressing. I wasn’t too upset. Just want to make sure my name is out there so the next person who wants photos comes to me after seeing that one, you know? Yeah, you know.

It’s a start.

And you better believe the moment I get the corrected copy, I’m adding it to my list!