people is place

Your thin lipped, toothy smile, surrounded by grizzled, tan pallor. Your Jeans, too short, hanging loosely around your minuscule frame. Your spindly fingers grasping the bar, cutting elbows jutting behind you. Bottles line the wall. Posters blanket the ceiling. We are enveloped in the smoke stale air. The fan turns and I am alone. This darkness, this dirty dreary edgy hole. No window. Light floods from the small stage. Light lingers around the bar. Light peeks from the top of the soundboard. Stacks of chairs line one wall, the wall covered in posters and shimmering spectres of the past, thousands of staples. Thousands.

I once had a dream that I was compelled to remove those staples one by one. Hours of bloodied knuckles and splintered wood rewarded with a tetanus shot and a cold Budweiser. As I drained the last drop from the bottle, the walls of the bar started to crack and then crumble. Each in turn fell backward...leaving only the roof above us and beyond it, the starry sky brilliant.

Jaimers

is right now in her 17th hour of labor. Jaime is my best friend. She's been my best friend since 7th grade and she's having a baby. Right now. At a hospital over 500 miles away from where I sit at this very moment.

Excuse me while I freak out a little. I've tons of friends who've had babies. Heck, I helped to bring Canaduh's little girl, Indiana Scarlet, into this world. But, this? This is Jaime. This my best friend, my Shirley, my Diana. She's the Dino to my Jerry. She's the straight man with the great looks and good sense. And yes. I just compared myself to Jerry Lewis. Under the right circumstances, most of my friends would say that's pretty accurate, especially if there is a robot, a fingerpuppet, or a Mark Kozelek within 50 feet of me.



I've always done my best to keep Jaime up on whatever I'm listening to (which really means that since we were kids, I've commandeered the radio whenever possible. Sometimes that didn't work out and thus I know all of the words to "Cheeseburger in Paradise".) and get her out to shows when she'd come down to visit. One night we went out to the Nick to see the Goodies. It was really the first time I'd ever seen that light in Jaime's eyes. You know the light. Here's the best way I know to describe it:

Go to a Flaming Lips show. As Wayne Coyne walks out with a strobe light attached to his chest/People in Furry Bunny Suits run out into the audience/the whole audience throws confetti in the air at the beginning of a song, turn around and look for the light. This certain type of smile. The wheels are turning and there is warmth in that expression.

That is the smile that crept across Jaime's face as Holiday Childress took the stage in bowler hat and three piece suit. I've been to hundreds of shows over the years and that particular show is in my top 10. I've actually seen better Goodies performances, but to see it with Jaime, for her to enjoy it so much, made it something extraordinary.

Prediction

This morning I awoke with glitter on my pillow, my shoes covered in cheese, and my knees terribly sore from channeling David Bowie.

It's going to be a banner year.



(Picture courtesy of DC)

Swiftly Converted

Another from Archives of Earfood:

Written on Thursday, September 29 2005 after experiencing a pretty breath-taking surprise on a late night at the Nick:

The Posies were the reason that I was standing at the bar last Wednesday night, drink in my hand, joy in my heart. I had waited ten years to see them play and sat there in quiet anticipation with my little notebook and my circle of friends. It was early and the Posies weren't to play for a while yet. Richard Swift and the Sons of National Freedom took the stage for their sound check. I turned my head sideways for a glance as they all turned and tuned their thoughts and instruments...then a wall of sound burst forth. Who are these guys? What is this? Everyone at the bar around me stopped for a moment and looked up. The music was a haunting, solid, intricate affair, traces of ragtime, sweet and sour, full of driving melodies. It was not like anything I've been listening to lately, but then again, walked along side the recent work of M Ward and Sufjan Stevens with a little skip and a wink. I helped myself out of the leopard clad barstool and walked over to Jason Maston, Richard Swift's merch guy to get the 411.

Jason smiled warmly as I sat on my knees on the Nick floor staring up at him with an excited questioning glance...he told me that Richard writes everything, recorded almost everything on his albums. Everyone on the tour, every musician is a good friend of Richard's who wanted to come out and support him. Jason referred to Richard as the one area of his life that he really believes in. I saw that devotion in these amazing musicians throughout the set, each playing off the other, Rich Young and his tight accommodating rhythms, Byron Hagon, trading places with Swift at the keys, then effortlessly switching back to another keyboard and laptop with a face full of busy intent. Bassist Eli Thompson sang quiet harmonies as Erick Cole stared patiently at the floor, long arms caressing the guitar with each gentle note. I'm not sure if it was a surprise at all when Swift began to play the keys at one point and every member of his band put down their instruments, walked off of the stage and around to the front. They stood, arms folded, glistening, happy, into the moment as if they had come to the show just to see him play.

The lyrics to each song were searching, desperate, regretful, yet strangely jubilant. I felt as if I had walked up the stairs into the attic of an old vacant house, and had found numerous treasures of an era long pastbut with each memento, each quiet song reflected the hopes and fears and slightly sarcastic turns of a more contemporary memory.

Richard Swift originally released his two LPs the Novelist and Walking Without Effort on Californias Velvet Blue Music. In 2004, they were re-released as a double album under Secretly Canadian. Richard and the Sons of National Freedom will continue touring this fall. Check out their schedule, home movies, and tour diary on their website at www.richardswift.us