So I don’t know much about Philadelphia. Nothing beyond my Junior American history class trip when I met the German foreign exchange student, her name escapes me, but I seem to recall that she was interested in me. Me. That attraction, imagined or real, was the first real twinge of an adult persona, maybe understanding that I just might be “good lookin’.” Although my confidence waned after she was sent home to the “Olde Country,” no internets in 1989 and no one knew what the fuck an emoticon was… I slowly moved back to my old disappointed self, cynical about girls. Love from afar… not an effective romantic mantra.
I’m off topic, I know. Well… anyhow… Dave Hadley and I pull onto Broad Street and get this… people are parked in the middle of what would the British call a central reservation. It was un-nerving. The cars were just parked, clubs locked into the driving wheel… fending off the sneaky and the ne’er do wells… out of control. At first these machines appeared to be turning left…a long line, a long wait. But as we moved down the street their lamp-less head lights became more apparent, to the point where I felt compelled to turn to Dave and asked, “Does this seem strange to you?” To which he replied, “Yup.”
Can you believe it? I mean… wow… just parked in the middle of the street… like no one’s business. Cars to tired to park on the side of the street… giving up and sputtering to a halt there, smack fucking dab in the middle. It wasn’t just one block but all of them. It’s been a while since I’ve been that uncomfortable in traffic.
Cultural/Social rules probably vary in the automobile world, no? I mean… in Germany, they probably have some sort of strange driving thing or parking peccadilloes… I’m sure of it… they probably parallel park cars while smoking pot and talking to seventeen year olds about how they are cool and would like to go to the homecoming dance… then end up being deported.
Soon enough we make it to the Tritone… somewhat akin to the old Café Tattoo… the tables and the chairs have a semi cafeteria feel… carpet that claims all that falls onto its matted sticky threads. Each table swivels or careens, which ever you prefer, in unanticipated directions… as I type this I have negotiated several hairpin twists. Blogging… TO THE EXTREME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Slo and Shakey, I shit you not… their names are playing some blues… guitars sound good… they know what they’re doing… oh and Monday Night Football is on tonight… Eagles vs. The Redskins… with McNabb playing for Washington. I am made to understand that this situation could become volatile…
Our set: a bit shakey in the confidence area... slo in tempo... overall, pretty and good. arrows and rocks emerged as the stand out track... solid connections and my voice, in fine form, smoothed out the delivery... worth something, I believe. Closing time and no real leads on a place to stay... we end up eating a red roof inn in new jersey. there are no snooki's where we are staying... june star is in the red...
Gas: -26
Tolls: -9
Hotel: -68
Beer: -8
Parking: -4.50
Total Monies Out: 115.50
Less Payment from the show: 15
Total Monies In: 15
-100.50
Okay New York!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
where have i been?
i have been to north carolina
i have eaten pork in several parts of north carolina
i have played a hookah bar
i have sold cd's to service men from camp lejuenne
i have played the whiskey in annapolis
i have driven 8 hours at a stretch
i have met a man named pappy who dispensed advice on marriage
i have played three really great sets with the band
i have had a wasp caught in my hair
i have imbibed north carolina's best craft brews
i have looked after the small details
i have glanced over the big details
i have been encouraged by music on the road
i have been concerned about money issues
i have been researching cities on the eastern seaboard
i have been in contact with my inner child
i have been in a time out
i have been reading thomas merton
i have been in awe of my friends
i have been writing music
i have been buying vinyl
i have been listening to chet atkins "teensville"
i have been to the mountain
i have been thinking about all of you.
grimm
i have eaten pork in several parts of north carolina
i have played a hookah bar
i have sold cd's to service men from camp lejuenne
i have played the whiskey in annapolis
i have driven 8 hours at a stretch
i have met a man named pappy who dispensed advice on marriage
i have played three really great sets with the band
i have had a wasp caught in my hair
i have imbibed north carolina's best craft brews
i have looked after the small details
i have glanced over the big details
i have been encouraged by music on the road
i have been concerned about money issues
i have been researching cities on the eastern seaboard
i have been in contact with my inner child
i have been in a time out
i have been reading thomas merton
i have been in awe of my friends
i have been writing music
i have been buying vinyl
i have been listening to chet atkins "teensville"
i have been to the mountain
i have been thinking about all of you.
grimm
Friday, October 01, 2010
a different router
my 2005 dlink di 624 is acting wonky. i'm now on my wife's computer... a nearly unused piece of technology which she bought... in 2005 as well... pretty cool huh? but it works great...
so i don't care for the term "Charm City." i was reading the fist couple of stories from the new book, "City Sages" and the term Charm City keeps coming up... floating around and careening into any effective sentences, tainting them with its oily fingers.
i guess charm city is supposed to relay some sort of mystery, some sort of magical allure that one cannot resist. i see more as a mischevious child who has stolen your car and took a dump in the back seat. but, you just can't help but temper your anger and fall in love all over again.
blech.
the term charm city apparently came from ad agencies in 1974 to draw people back to the city. baltimore in the seventies was a city on the decline. there was nothing really charming about it... apparently... i was two, at the time and couldn't really give much of first hand account other than i remember being a bit fussy about some creamed corn.
but when you look at populations... from about 900,000 in the 50's to 700,000 in the 70's... to now... which is right around 650,000 the trend becomes obvious. the nickname... charm city seems to be laughable almost... i think charm is too light of a word... i'm from bel air, harford county... middle class white suburban.. in 1972 there wasn't much in bel air... a main street... quaint... farm... almost rural... i don't know if i legitimately qualify to be a biological baltimorean... but i have to say that i love my city and i do sense a connection... a realness. dirty, cold, and resilient. something that says, "go on."
recently when talking with david andler from bima (baltimore independent music and arts fest)his main point was recognizing baltimore musicians and that he was disappointed in how baltimore bands leave town to get recognized or signed elsewhere and one of the ideas for bima was to allow a spotlight to shine on our bands... and baltimore should be a supportive place for music.
i nodded my head in approval, but i also knew that one of my strategies for playing music full time was to get out of baltimore... not move away... not adopt another city... but to spend more time on the road and outside of charm city... june star will always play baltimore... every little gig we can get... to quote chris plummer... "I'll play in a bank parking lot on a Sunday, man." from a performer's perspective, that statement demonstrates both self sacrifice and epic failure.
conversely, looking at the audience side of it... there is a question of where audiences go... here's what Tim Heaney says on his myspace page, "I like live music. Here in Baltimore, that means I spend a lot of time by myself in empty rooms." he has pictures to prove it.
where is this all going? i have know idea really... other than i don't think we should call baltimore charm city... here are some other slogans...
baltimore: it's in the blood
baltimore: you can't wash it out
baltimore: endurance is half the battle
baltimore: get some! before it gets you
grimm
so i don't care for the term "Charm City." i was reading the fist couple of stories from the new book, "City Sages" and the term Charm City keeps coming up... floating around and careening into any effective sentences, tainting them with its oily fingers.
i guess charm city is supposed to relay some sort of mystery, some sort of magical allure that one cannot resist. i see more as a mischevious child who has stolen your car and took a dump in the back seat. but, you just can't help but temper your anger and fall in love all over again.
blech.
the term charm city apparently came from ad agencies in 1974 to draw people back to the city. baltimore in the seventies was a city on the decline. there was nothing really charming about it... apparently... i was two, at the time and couldn't really give much of first hand account other than i remember being a bit fussy about some creamed corn.
but when you look at populations... from about 900,000 in the 50's to 700,000 in the 70's... to now... which is right around 650,000 the trend becomes obvious. the nickname... charm city seems to be laughable almost... i think charm is too light of a word... i'm from bel air, harford county... middle class white suburban.. in 1972 there wasn't much in bel air... a main street... quaint... farm... almost rural... i don't know if i legitimately qualify to be a biological baltimorean... but i have to say that i love my city and i do sense a connection... a realness. dirty, cold, and resilient. something that says, "go on."
recently when talking with david andler from bima (baltimore independent music and arts fest)his main point was recognizing baltimore musicians and that he was disappointed in how baltimore bands leave town to get recognized or signed elsewhere and one of the ideas for bima was to allow a spotlight to shine on our bands... and baltimore should be a supportive place for music.
i nodded my head in approval, but i also knew that one of my strategies for playing music full time was to get out of baltimore... not move away... not adopt another city... but to spend more time on the road and outside of charm city... june star will always play baltimore... every little gig we can get... to quote chris plummer... "I'll play in a bank parking lot on a Sunday, man." from a performer's perspective, that statement demonstrates both self sacrifice and epic failure.
conversely, looking at the audience side of it... there is a question of where audiences go... here's what Tim Heaney says on his myspace page, "I like live music. Here in Baltimore, that means I spend a lot of time by myself in empty rooms." he has pictures to prove it.
where is this all going? i have know idea really... other than i don't think we should call baltimore charm city... here are some other slogans...
baltimore: it's in the blood
baltimore: you can't wash it out
baltimore: endurance is half the battle
baltimore: get some! before it gets you
grimm
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
critical juncture
hey there... got the promo cd's... so i can continue to promo!
yes...
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
gig
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage 50 times
one article
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
your cd ends up on ebay
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
return to sender
i could do this all day.
grimm
yes...
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
gig
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage 50 times
one article
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
your cd ends up on ebay
one sheet
cd
envelope
postage
return to sender
i could do this all day.
grimm
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
water water anywhere
"Thats how you do it, don't hot dog it, now. Use both hands! Don't hot dog it."
I want to believe my father coined that phrase, "don't hot dog it"; probably not, but I'd like to think that. we were playing catch, the front yard carpeted with grass... jungle grass that barely gave under foot. Dad would throw the ball as high in the air as he could, a pop fly. Youthful perception dictated his strength combined with a tennis ball's mass would send it to the mesophere.
Of course, it wasn't too far in the air. I could catch the pop-fly. Now, 25 years later it dawns on me... in this lil' recollection, neither my father nor I liked baseball. Not a homerun. Not a pitch. Not a game, really. We had gone to Memorial Stadium a few times... but my it was my mother whom loved baseball.
The link, besides DNA, I have with, Pop... as I call him... is bad movies, more on that in later blog. Sailing became his passion for a long while. Our first boat was an Ensenada 19, a nineteen foot stronghold of spiders. The earliest memory of that boat was right after he bought it; we packed in mom's fake wood paneled corolla wagon... and drove to some development, I'll never remember where... but, I remember it was dusk and drizzling. The boat didn't look like any sailboat I had seen before... most boats I had seen had a raised cabin with little windows you could spy passing vessels... spacious cabins where you might engage a pirate in sword play... the Ensenada 19 did not live up to these fantasies.
But my father's excitement bubbled over, if he could have, he'd a jumped on the deck right there on the trailer in a white american suburb, hoisted the sails, lowered the keel, and set off to navigate the Cul-de-sac. he didn't though. We drove home, he-excited, me-nonplussed.
The idea of sailing has a sort of romanticized hold on the male of the species... we see it in poetry, novels, films... the man and the sea... some salty, iron wrinkled man with white brillo scruff squinting his slate dry eyes into a distant horizon... he talks of the mystery of the sea... "the sea, she's a cruel mistress, but ye have to obey."
ARGH.
For my dad though, he didn't romanticize the sea and all her briney peccadilloes. he felt free on the susquehannah. really, not until right now, as I click keys and sip my coffee, did such a realization appear. On the water perhaps, my father felt equal to everyone else out there. The rules couldn't be simpler. You only go as far as your skill allows, your attention to winds and currents, the weather forecast... these factors mattered in piloting any vessel. Here my father controlled his movement... as well as or better than most folks.
My dad found freedom, too. In childhood, my father contracted Polio leaving him with a withered leg resulting in a severe limp. Despite the disease he swam, biked, played tennis. Working his body twice as hard as the other boys, men, he excelled and usually rose to the top... maybe not rose... that indicates a certain ease... he pulled himself to the top. But on the water... his legs weren't necessary for sailing, of course my brother and I were the crew... but he was free... the dry land and the doubled effort had no say in what he did on the boat. boats cut through water and if conditions are right, they glide unimpeded, unobstructed... like birds. If that were the case, every trip we took on the boat allowed my dad to truly breath, truly move.
grimm
I want to believe my father coined that phrase, "don't hot dog it"; probably not, but I'd like to think that. we were playing catch, the front yard carpeted with grass... jungle grass that barely gave under foot. Dad would throw the ball as high in the air as he could, a pop fly. Youthful perception dictated his strength combined with a tennis ball's mass would send it to the mesophere.
Of course, it wasn't too far in the air. I could catch the pop-fly. Now, 25 years later it dawns on me... in this lil' recollection, neither my father nor I liked baseball. Not a homerun. Not a pitch. Not a game, really. We had gone to Memorial Stadium a few times... but my it was my mother whom loved baseball.
The link, besides DNA, I have with, Pop... as I call him... is bad movies, more on that in later blog. Sailing became his passion for a long while. Our first boat was an Ensenada 19, a nineteen foot stronghold of spiders. The earliest memory of that boat was right after he bought it; we packed in mom's fake wood paneled corolla wagon... and drove to some development, I'll never remember where... but, I remember it was dusk and drizzling. The boat didn't look like any sailboat I had seen before... most boats I had seen had a raised cabin with little windows you could spy passing vessels... spacious cabins where you might engage a pirate in sword play... the Ensenada 19 did not live up to these fantasies.
But my father's excitement bubbled over, if he could have, he'd a jumped on the deck right there on the trailer in a white american suburb, hoisted the sails, lowered the keel, and set off to navigate the Cul-de-sac. he didn't though. We drove home, he-excited, me-nonplussed.
The idea of sailing has a sort of romanticized hold on the male of the species... we see it in poetry, novels, films... the man and the sea... some salty, iron wrinkled man with white brillo scruff squinting his slate dry eyes into a distant horizon... he talks of the mystery of the sea... "the sea, she's a cruel mistress, but ye have to obey."
ARGH.
For my dad though, he didn't romanticize the sea and all her briney peccadilloes. he felt free on the susquehannah. really, not until right now, as I click keys and sip my coffee, did such a realization appear. On the water perhaps, my father felt equal to everyone else out there. The rules couldn't be simpler. You only go as far as your skill allows, your attention to winds and currents, the weather forecast... these factors mattered in piloting any vessel. Here my father controlled his movement... as well as or better than most folks.
My dad found freedom, too. In childhood, my father contracted Polio leaving him with a withered leg resulting in a severe limp. Despite the disease he swam, biked, played tennis. Working his body twice as hard as the other boys, men, he excelled and usually rose to the top... maybe not rose... that indicates a certain ease... he pulled himself to the top. But on the water... his legs weren't necessary for sailing, of course my brother and I were the crew... but he was free... the dry land and the doubled effort had no say in what he did on the boat. boats cut through water and if conditions are right, they glide unimpeded, unobstructed... like birds. If that were the case, every trip we took on the boat allowed my dad to truly breath, truly move.
grimm
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
substitute for another guy
Big Show on Friday! Are you going...? you should go? yes... you should go!
CD Release show is coming up... have you bought your tickets yet? you haven't? You should...
Why wouldn't you? Come on! You've got to go! Come on...
okay
back to my posts about the hampden post office...
out of the corner of his eye he noticed the dark sliver, the overhead florescent lights hummed reassurance, coaxing him forward. his fingers flitted nervously as he held his package, anticipating its placement. is it too soon? is that slot big enough to handle his load? his clothes started to feel tighter, his mouth went dry. slowly he lifted the stuffed envelope in to position, the edges of the mail slot and the package touched gently... a kiss. held his breath, closed his eyes and tentatively applied pressure to the back of the plump yellow parcel, destined for Los Angeles. the opening refused his offering, he felt his forward motion slowing to halt. he opened his eyes and stared with desire and violence. teeth clenched and eyes narrowed, "oh, you'll take all of this... don't deny me, don't deny ME!" with a renewed, burning passion he switched his stance to that of a man holding closed a gate against the marauding barbarians, howling and desparate to loot and ravage whatever they find. He gripped his package by both hands and pushed forward while tugging and swiveling left to right, left to right, Left to Right, LEft to RIght, LEFt to RIGht!, LEFT To RIGHt!, LEFT TO RIGHT! Suddenly all resistance gave and he found his fingers wriggling in the slot... the cool air from the mail room touched his digits. He didn't realize it at first, but he was panting, drops of sweat sliding down his face, settling in the dimples of his cheeks. A rush of warmth and elation washed over his frame, his soul. Conquest. He straightened his back and stared at his victory, his eyes widened... above the slot read, "LOCAL DELIVERY ONLY."
okay... this is the last installment of this sort of thing... i was thinking i might go on with it... but it's just silly!
grimm
CD Release show is coming up... have you bought your tickets yet? you haven't? You should...
Why wouldn't you? Come on! You've got to go! Come on...
okay
back to my posts about the hampden post office...
out of the corner of his eye he noticed the dark sliver, the overhead florescent lights hummed reassurance, coaxing him forward. his fingers flitted nervously as he held his package, anticipating its placement. is it too soon? is that slot big enough to handle his load? his clothes started to feel tighter, his mouth went dry. slowly he lifted the stuffed envelope in to position, the edges of the mail slot and the package touched gently... a kiss. held his breath, closed his eyes and tentatively applied pressure to the back of the plump yellow parcel, destined for Los Angeles. the opening refused his offering, he felt his forward motion slowing to halt. he opened his eyes and stared with desire and violence. teeth clenched and eyes narrowed, "oh, you'll take all of this... don't deny me, don't deny ME!" with a renewed, burning passion he switched his stance to that of a man holding closed a gate against the marauding barbarians, howling and desparate to loot and ravage whatever they find. He gripped his package by both hands and pushed forward while tugging and swiveling left to right, left to right, Left to Right, LEft to RIght, LEFt to RIGht!, LEFT To RIGHt!, LEFT TO RIGHT! Suddenly all resistance gave and he found his fingers wriggling in the slot... the cool air from the mail room touched his digits. He didn't realize it at first, but he was panting, drops of sweat sliding down his face, settling in the dimples of his cheeks. A rush of warmth and elation washed over his frame, his soul. Conquest. He straightened his back and stared at his victory, his eyes widened... above the slot read, "LOCAL DELIVERY ONLY."
okay... this is the last installment of this sort of thing... i was thinking i might go on with it... but it's just silly!
grimm
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
on my desk
blakes' poetry and design
three by flannery o'connor
four short novels by herman melville
the wit of sir winston
the musician's handbook
wallace stegner angle of repose
4 months of receipts
my lamp
a freshly emptied bowl of oatmeal
my laptop
checkbook
interesting?
getting excited for the disc, a few days
and it should be here in all its
duplicated glory.
spoke with sam sessa of the baltimore
sun yesterday, we'll be doing another
baltimore unsigned... this will be our
third time in... which is cool...
i have begun a love affair with
the post office. we see each other once or twice
a week. i'll walk casually down the block
and gently tug on the front doors. we all
know why i'm there, yet we don't say it out
loud. there is a glance; there is an offer;
there is an exchange, a release, and then
there is satisfaction. tristesse.
my needs being met, i walk back to my house.
maybe i should start a new career or writing
postal romance stories...
Linda's tongue slid between her pouty lips, glistening, nervous. the stamp, waiting in anticipation with its back side up, quivered slightly. she dabbed her moisture on the small postage guarantee completely and gently. the stamp, once dry, now sticky thick with glue, ached to be handled and pressed firmly in to a corner, trapped and manipulated by her hot fingers, the ultimate submission. before she could catch her breath, it was over. her eyes slowly refocused on the egg shell white envelope and in the upper right edge Gloria Steinam knowingly smiled up at her, a forty-four cent mark by her feminine ear. Linda smiled back, fulfilled and grateful.
grimm
three by flannery o'connor
four short novels by herman melville
the wit of sir winston
the musician's handbook
wallace stegner angle of repose
4 months of receipts
my lamp
a freshly emptied bowl of oatmeal
my laptop
checkbook
interesting?
getting excited for the disc, a few days
and it should be here in all its
duplicated glory.
spoke with sam sessa of the baltimore
sun yesterday, we'll be doing another
baltimore unsigned... this will be our
third time in... which is cool...
i have begun a love affair with
the post office. we see each other once or twice
a week. i'll walk casually down the block
and gently tug on the front doors. we all
know why i'm there, yet we don't say it out
loud. there is a glance; there is an offer;
there is an exchange, a release, and then
there is satisfaction. tristesse.
my needs being met, i walk back to my house.
maybe i should start a new career or writing
postal romance stories...
Linda's tongue slid between her pouty lips, glistening, nervous. the stamp, waiting in anticipation with its back side up, quivered slightly. she dabbed her moisture on the small postage guarantee completely and gently. the stamp, once dry, now sticky thick with glue, ached to be handled and pressed firmly in to a corner, trapped and manipulated by her hot fingers, the ultimate submission. before she could catch her breath, it was over. her eyes slowly refocused on the egg shell white envelope and in the upper right edge Gloria Steinam knowingly smiled up at her, a forty-four cent mark by her feminine ear. Linda smiled back, fulfilled and grateful.
grimm
Monday, September 20, 2010
inside via outside
strangely alive
borne by fingers and feathers
halo overhead
and locked by a knot
worried hearts
beat until they become leather
fired hard
without notice; we are lost
spun by winds
whispered by currents
only and until
tips of mountains speak
will we need
the horizon, again
directionless
doesn't mean, free
borne by fingers and feathers
halo overhead
and locked by a knot
worried hearts
beat until they become leather
fired hard
without notice; we are lost
spun by winds
whispered by currents
only and until
tips of mountains speak
will we need
the horizon, again
directionless
doesn't mean, free
Thursday, September 16, 2010
carrying out plans
it's a simple process...
make a list,
do some stuff,
check off the list...
not rocket science.
items that have remained unchecked:
book pittsburgh
book detroit
book indianapolis
book cleveland
these are proving to be harder than both
the north and and the south
ugh.
i'm reminded of a story tess gallagher told about raymond carver...
she was talking about cleaning out his closet after his death and
finding a note in a shirt pocket... it was grocery list he had made
not too long before his impending death from lung cancer...
the list (i am paraphrasing):
cereal
hot chocolate
paper towels
Paris?
Africa?
Australia?
i think i'm starting to like lists... maybe stretch out a bit...
maybe i can blog the list of things to do and then comment
when i completed them? wouldn't that be interesting?
perhaps not.
so far on my list:
house things:
shower (maybe)
call carpenter
help murray move glass table top
start laundry
music things:
mail out posters to NC
mail out promo cd's
contact press links in NC
contact the following bars:
Memories Charcoal Grille
Whistling Oyster
Diablita's
James Joyce
Riptide by the Bay
Kooper's
The Still
O'Lordan's
Sunset Grille
log in to No Depression
update web sites
get tires on van checked and fix spare
put gretsch guitars on craigslist
quite a list.
grimm
make a list,
do some stuff,
check off the list...
not rocket science.
items that have remained unchecked:
book pittsburgh
book detroit
book indianapolis
book cleveland
these are proving to be harder than both
the north and and the south
ugh.
i'm reminded of a story tess gallagher told about raymond carver...
she was talking about cleaning out his closet after his death and
finding a note in a shirt pocket... it was grocery list he had made
not too long before his impending death from lung cancer...
the list (i am paraphrasing):
cereal
hot chocolate
paper towels
Paris?
Africa?
Australia?
i think i'm starting to like lists... maybe stretch out a bit...
maybe i can blog the list of things to do and then comment
when i completed them? wouldn't that be interesting?
perhaps not.
so far on my list:
house things:
shower (maybe)
call carpenter
help murray move glass table top
start laundry
music things:
mail out posters to NC
mail out promo cd's
contact press links in NC
contact the following bars:
Memories Charcoal Grille
Whistling Oyster
Diablita's
James Joyce
Riptide by the Bay
Kooper's
The Still
O'Lordan's
Sunset Grille
log in to No Depression
update web sites
get tires on van checked and fix spare
put gretsch guitars on craigslist
quite a list.
grimm
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
world in a world
i've moved my laptop to the basement.
big move. the computer, the cable, the coffee
and then the table.
the tours star to peek over the atlantic
we just picked up a show with bitter ruin from
the u.k.
it will be in wilmington NC... OCT. 17th @ the juggling gypsy.
where do club names come from?
proposed club names:
the blender
my amoeba
the veldt
mind space
the nucleus
cloud 10
pink motel
office max
tire dump
warner's pit
hair mouth
the whizz
gary's fantastic depot
wilted fern
ugly's
mass appeal
tongue tomb
spiffy
the sheath
turner's
hooch's
upper deck
kiran's blade
okay... i'm bored with this.
grimm
big move. the computer, the cable, the coffee
and then the table.
the tours star to peek over the atlantic
we just picked up a show with bitter ruin from
the u.k.
it will be in wilmington NC... OCT. 17th @ the juggling gypsy.
where do club names come from?
proposed club names:
the blender
my amoeba
the veldt
mind space
the nucleus
cloud 10
pink motel
office max
tire dump
warner's pit
hair mouth
the whizz
gary's fantastic depot
wilted fern
ugly's
mass appeal
tongue tomb
spiffy
the sheath
turner's
hooch's
upper deck
kiran's blade
okay... i'm bored with this.
grimm
Friday, September 10, 2010
west coasting
so a week away to the west coast and the triumphant
trumpeting of high hopped libations had their say.
they spoke in tongues, their taste bitter to crisp.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... the flight home was rough
got to hang out with patrick hughes, brief stay as a
drummer for the june star. saw his band, mneumonic sounds.
groovy drum loops with live drums and sparkles. thick
bass loops and synthesizer sighs... one word, atmosphere.
they were very wonderful and i enjoyed the event... the
lyrics have that semi girl sound of the ingenue and the
chanteuse if that is even possible. elegant and crushing.
inspiring. so i've returned to emails and getting
back into making lists so i can check them off! selling
some guitars! my two gretsch duo jets are for sale!
i'll even autograph them. that was a joke. sort of.
ha ha... tomorrow 12:30 june star plays the hampden fest
for the best 20 minutes of your lives. if i were you
i'd go. we're going to be awesome... a brilliant flame
of americana! rally your friends... invite your enemies!
all will not be lost.
oh... i think i wrote a new song somewhere along the line.
groovy... check back later? send me a message.
grimm
trumpeting of high hopped libations had their say.
they spoke in tongues, their taste bitter to crisp.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... the flight home was rough
got to hang out with patrick hughes, brief stay as a
drummer for the june star. saw his band, mneumonic sounds.
groovy drum loops with live drums and sparkles. thick
bass loops and synthesizer sighs... one word, atmosphere.
they were very wonderful and i enjoyed the event... the
lyrics have that semi girl sound of the ingenue and the
chanteuse if that is even possible. elegant and crushing.
inspiring. so i've returned to emails and getting
back into making lists so i can check them off! selling
some guitars! my two gretsch duo jets are for sale!
i'll even autograph them. that was a joke. sort of.
ha ha... tomorrow 12:30 june star plays the hampden fest
for the best 20 minutes of your lives. if i were you
i'd go. we're going to be awesome... a brilliant flame
of americana! rally your friends... invite your enemies!
all will not be lost.
oh... i think i wrote a new song somewhere along the line.
groovy... check back later? send me a message.
grimm
Friday, September 03, 2010
Time out
Hey ho...
Quick check-in. Out of the rotation blog wise...
I trust that you are fine and well... My new
Old guitar will be in my hands by next week... Excitement
Yes that is all right now... Will check in later?
You are all very cute
Grimm
Quick check-in. Out of the rotation blog wise...
I trust that you are fine and well... My new
Old guitar will be in my hands by next week... Excitement
Yes that is all right now... Will check in later?
You are all very cute
Grimm
Monday, August 30, 2010
waking up to the new role
teenagers.
they're waking to that penultimate day of leisure. sleeping in? nervous butterflies flitting around. a summer spent apart from friends and activities. no books for certain. now the pressure increases. the sweat begins to appear. the normal disaffected posture quietly shifts to cope against embarrassment or insecurity.
i sit blogging. for fifteen years i too went through the above process... not a as badly as the kids... but as a teacher i felt the same way. now, i don't. i have left the building and i sit at my computer and try to figure out how to get people to give me money.
mmmmmmmm... money.
now there is backwards mapping. road maps... shifting money from this account to that account... beg to play here... hope to play there... the stress is less... the difference is self discipline, right?
for so long my internal clock was tuned to the school clock... "must wake at 4:30 am to get to work" and now, "i want to sleep until 9 am" not feeling successful... must get up earlier and work harder... today wasn't bad but still. hard to feel like i'm pursuing a career when the overall feel of the job is drastically different than my previous money making profession.
odd
indeed
uploading artwork. thinking about my blog. must practice music. must find a routine. routine will find me. new guitar was bought... 1946 Gibson ES 125. really good shape... it's being refretted now by philtone guitars... it sounds like a stick of butter wrapped in bacon. mmmmmmmmm.... wrapped.
okay... maybe i'll post twice today.
grimm
they're waking to that penultimate day of leisure. sleeping in? nervous butterflies flitting around. a summer spent apart from friends and activities. no books for certain. now the pressure increases. the sweat begins to appear. the normal disaffected posture quietly shifts to cope against embarrassment or insecurity.
i sit blogging. for fifteen years i too went through the above process... not a as badly as the kids... but as a teacher i felt the same way. now, i don't. i have left the building and i sit at my computer and try to figure out how to get people to give me money.
mmmmmmmm... money.
now there is backwards mapping. road maps... shifting money from this account to that account... beg to play here... hope to play there... the stress is less... the difference is self discipline, right?
for so long my internal clock was tuned to the school clock... "must wake at 4:30 am to get to work" and now, "i want to sleep until 9 am" not feeling successful... must get up earlier and work harder... today wasn't bad but still. hard to feel like i'm pursuing a career when the overall feel of the job is drastically different than my previous money making profession.
odd
indeed
uploading artwork. thinking about my blog. must practice music. must find a routine. routine will find me. new guitar was bought... 1946 Gibson ES 125. really good shape... it's being refretted now by philtone guitars... it sounds like a stick of butter wrapped in bacon. mmmmmmmmm.... wrapped.
okay... maybe i'll post twice today.
grimm
Monday, August 23, 2010
movement on the ground
there are many bits and pieces to the process of putting out a disc... strategies and schemes that i don't think most folk know about...
one sheet: the one piece of paper that hopefully answers the questions of who what and where...
artwork: pics of the band, pics of the artwork, design that is appealing to the eye and not ironically opposed to the subjects within the songs...
presskit: formal introduction to the world
the emailing... OMG... the emailing... many emails... here's what I sound like:
Hi there, I'm Andrew Grimm from the Baltimore based Americana type band, June Star...
yup... sometimes I call myself Andy Grimm... Andy just seems a bit friendlier...
today's goals... contact all of my NC Carolina Press Links... send out promotional discs... whoo hoo...
thirlls and chills...
Grimm
Friday, August 20, 2010
piece meals
sacry monster music... that's what mark mulcahy said
about the songs his band, miracle legion... we playing.
what rough tunes belch from hampden? my friend william
butler yeats would have been proud? maybe. maybe not.
new songs are starting to bubble to the surface and
our jobs will be to boil down the rest. cut the fat
and preserve the goodness. the question remains... will
we be saying anyhting new? yes. the topic, the motif,
the what's it all about? will certainly be new...
inventive... fresh imagery for the horses.
several songs come from fawm 2010. however, new ones lurk
just off stage... on the catwalk, to sexy for this blog no doubt.
funny that they emerge at this point. saying hello.
maybe the songs will be about forgiveness...
forgive me,
grimm
Monday, August 16, 2010
things of the past
june star stuff:
good rehearsals! meeting with morphius... will take the blue pill...
blog junk:
the lamp on my writing desk comes from my mother's desk. acutally, my writing desk is my mother's desk. and here i sit, where she sat, it was her chair too, and i write. my scribbles are far different from hers. my clickety clack to her scratching. my thoughts posted to some nebulous network and nether worlds, her's posted to family. she also balanced her check book at this same desk. wow. imagine the adding and subtracting she used to do.
let me not get too far from the muse. the thought should regain focus, peer in and discern that very sense of what parents give us. dna for sure... lessons in guilt... denial... love... betrayal... forgiveness? forgiveness, that's the one i want to talk about. the power of forgiving.
of all the things humans can do to destroy one another forgiveness swings a heavy bat my friends. sure, guns and bio-tech warfare are pretty devastating... physically. their collateral damage? emotional wreckage, right? how could someone do this to antoher human being? man, i've asked that too... and not necessarily when someone hurt me physically... contrary to hurting someone, forgiveness takes away the power, that threat, those fears whose sole purpose is to degrade and deconstruct. not to mention the personal release forgiveness allows. the allowence of sleeping and dreaming... the bitter ball at the pit of the stomach bubbling when you see the person or hear a name. yes, that feeling launches from its perch away from you and into dissipation.
healthy options for the living include: letting it go, not taking it personally, understanding where someone is going or where someone has been. allah, jesus, buddah, zorlock the space god could be symbols for these ideas or tenets.
but aren't these ideas human to human? what of the monsters that lurk just on the inside, around the gloaming hours? then forgiveness is about personal survival... saving yourself... sparing yourself... discovering the wonderful traction that supports or even encourages resilience and salvation.
the monsters cannot be held accountable for their actions can they? can they be explained... monsters aren't human so how could we rationalize them as cognizant of their actions? i know, forgiveness doesn't keep us safe from their physical attacks... but again, that emotional twinge, your inner sanctum, where you live, home, your room, your dreams, your pride, your kitchen, your heart, your "self", those are the temples forgiveness defends... a shield,the force field. bitter roots find zero ground... the monsters can be caged... but so can you, the resentment incurred from monstrous activities feeds from self pity and loathing. think of a drive in... think of that large wooden screen where images are projected... the film showing tonight: What happened to me and look how awful it is! starring: you know who. why watch it? you've already lived it. take down the screen... do not allow the past injuries to reflect on the present opportunities or those endeavors will hint at bitterness...
enough, enough.
grimm
good rehearsals! meeting with morphius... will take the blue pill...
blog junk:
the lamp on my writing desk comes from my mother's desk. acutally, my writing desk is my mother's desk. and here i sit, where she sat, it was her chair too, and i write. my scribbles are far different from hers. my clickety clack to her scratching. my thoughts posted to some nebulous network and nether worlds, her's posted to family. she also balanced her check book at this same desk. wow. imagine the adding and subtracting she used to do.
let me not get too far from the muse. the thought should regain focus, peer in and discern that very sense of what parents give us. dna for sure... lessons in guilt... denial... love... betrayal... forgiveness? forgiveness, that's the one i want to talk about. the power of forgiving.
of all the things humans can do to destroy one another forgiveness swings a heavy bat my friends. sure, guns and bio-tech warfare are pretty devastating... physically. their collateral damage? emotional wreckage, right? how could someone do this to antoher human being? man, i've asked that too... and not necessarily when someone hurt me physically... contrary to hurting someone, forgiveness takes away the power, that threat, those fears whose sole purpose is to degrade and deconstruct. not to mention the personal release forgiveness allows. the allowence of sleeping and dreaming... the bitter ball at the pit of the stomach bubbling when you see the person or hear a name. yes, that feeling launches from its perch away from you and into dissipation.
healthy options for the living include: letting it go, not taking it personally, understanding where someone is going or where someone has been. allah, jesus, buddah, zorlock the space god could be symbols for these ideas or tenets.
but aren't these ideas human to human? what of the monsters that lurk just on the inside, around the gloaming hours? then forgiveness is about personal survival... saving yourself... sparing yourself... discovering the wonderful traction that supports or even encourages resilience and salvation.
the monsters cannot be held accountable for their actions can they? can they be explained... monsters aren't human so how could we rationalize them as cognizant of their actions? i know, forgiveness doesn't keep us safe from their physical attacks... but again, that emotional twinge, your inner sanctum, where you live, home, your room, your dreams, your pride, your kitchen, your heart, your "self", those are the temples forgiveness defends... a shield,the force field. bitter roots find zero ground... the monsters can be caged... but so can you, the resentment incurred from monstrous activities feeds from self pity and loathing. think of a drive in... think of that large wooden screen where images are projected... the film showing tonight: What happened to me and look how awful it is! starring: you know who. why watch it? you've already lived it. take down the screen... do not allow the past injuries to reflect on the present opportunities or those endeavors will hint at bitterness...
enough, enough.
grimm
catching the fever
june star news: none... except look at all the freaking dates we've booked... holy sugar... look at 'em... yowza!
album release: Oct. 26th
cd release show: Nov. 6th @ Patterson Theatre/Creative Alliance
blog stuff:
the true measure of whether "anything" is worth anything can be found by how quickly the low subconscious impulse to acquire matches the passion that created said "anything." musically, dj's used to know this secret. spin the record and kids go crazy... kids go dancing... kids go buying. funny to think our tastes hinge on the choices or impulses of kids. we come to believe that anything purchased en masse by a younger generation reflects the quality of any product.
what a disaster to be reduced to a demographic and not even know it. someone much older and much smarter lays out the clothing, music, political ideology, and socially acceptable for younger more "independent" generation.
i remember the label generation x... then generation next... now, i know i'm behind the curve..., but generation text? pretty funny, pretty sad. that's what they said about my youth collective... cycle cycle, right?
the funniest,saddest thing i'd seen was when my brit. lit. class read 1984 and i posed the question about whether or not the basic premise of the novel was a possibility in current times... over half of the class said, never. this is america... we don't do things like that... the gov't. wouldn't allow it. insert shivers here.
gov't. isn't bad. conception and execution however, that could use some tightening up. right? several times, on television mind you... characters will mention the importance of senators... a high office and that always seems to strike me as odd... i've been conditioned to believe that senators are either criminals or incompetent rubes that can't get their jobs right... or maybe, they figured it out... whatever, my cynical chip is engaged... at all times.
so, i've also been reading Time Life Home Blogging Books on how to connect two seemingly disparate topics... how trends are formed through youth shopping sprees and gov't. control. on page 47 of the Time/Life series... it says, "To connect between to seemingly disparate subjects can appear difficult. However, with some patience and trust in your audience, the common ground will make itself apparent."
so, okay. it will make itself apparent through the crazy conspiracy theorists... lady gaga is really a republican stooge meant to distract us from the real issues... gaga stands for... Girl Agent Grievous Amusement.
okay... i've gotten bored with this... i shall navigate the blogging topics slowly... metaphorically... perhaps... but i will not navigate a ship... through murky waters? tough rapids... treacherous waterfalls... no... i will navigate a my vessel... actually... i'm beached... i'm stuck... mired. so i guess i will be pulling that vessel... thereby becoming some wonderful quasi-vessel... a cyber tugboat. what was it thoreau said? "we do not ride the railroad, it rides upon us."
so true.
grimm
album release: Oct. 26th
cd release show: Nov. 6th @ Patterson Theatre/Creative Alliance
blog stuff:
the true measure of whether "anything" is worth anything can be found by how quickly the low subconscious impulse to acquire matches the passion that created said "anything." musically, dj's used to know this secret. spin the record and kids go crazy... kids go dancing... kids go buying. funny to think our tastes hinge on the choices or impulses of kids. we come to believe that anything purchased en masse by a younger generation reflects the quality of any product.
what a disaster to be reduced to a demographic and not even know it. someone much older and much smarter lays out the clothing, music, political ideology, and socially acceptable for younger more "independent" generation.
i remember the label generation x... then generation next... now, i know i'm behind the curve..., but generation text? pretty funny, pretty sad. that's what they said about my youth collective... cycle cycle, right?
the funniest,saddest thing i'd seen was when my brit. lit. class read 1984 and i posed the question about whether or not the basic premise of the novel was a possibility in current times... over half of the class said, never. this is america... we don't do things like that... the gov't. wouldn't allow it. insert shivers here.
gov't. isn't bad. conception and execution however, that could use some tightening up. right? several times, on television mind you... characters will mention the importance of senators... a high office and that always seems to strike me as odd... i've been conditioned to believe that senators are either criminals or incompetent rubes that can't get their jobs right... or maybe, they figured it out... whatever, my cynical chip is engaged... at all times.
so, i've also been reading Time Life Home Blogging Books on how to connect two seemingly disparate topics... how trends are formed through youth shopping sprees and gov't. control. on page 47 of the Time/Life series... it says, "To connect between to seemingly disparate subjects can appear difficult. However, with some patience and trust in your audience, the common ground will make itself apparent."
so, okay. it will make itself apparent through the crazy conspiracy theorists... lady gaga is really a republican stooge meant to distract us from the real issues... gaga stands for... Girl Agent Grievous Amusement.
okay... i've gotten bored with this... i shall navigate the blogging topics slowly... metaphorically... perhaps... but i will not navigate a ship... through murky waters? tough rapids... treacherous waterfalls... no... i will navigate a my vessel... actually... i'm beached... i'm stuck... mired. so i guess i will be pulling that vessel... thereby becoming some wonderful quasi-vessel... a cyber tugboat. what was it thoreau said? "we do not ride the railroad, it rides upon us."
so true.
grimm
Sunday, August 08, 2010
posts for the post
So… blogging bloggers… here we go… the run down, the skinny, the how do you do!
Mum’s… fun time interesting lineup… june star was fabulous… we played some spirited versions of new and old tunes… thunder from the new album… spectacular in its simplicity and swelling pedal steel… some rockin’ versions of hard working miner and saint reaffirmed our status as baltimore’s most incredible rock band in Baltimore, according to the City Paper’s 2014 Reader’s Poll.
Sound in Stone snuck on in to Federal Hill towing a 12x8 trailer to their 8 passenger van… seems more like they were planning to live on the road and never go home… their set was lively despite few folks in the audience… some sort gypsy rock and roll three part harmony tuba stuff… strange and good…
Healing Hearts were playing their first show… some jitters aside they closed their eyes and played well… they got through it… important with that first show, right?
I’m on the road right now with Mark McKay… we’re in Hamilton, NY… the home of Colgate College where Mark matriculated and graduated… quaint joint for certain… two kind of main streets… two theaters… we played the palace theater… and as I type… I’m looking across some sort of lake… staying at the white eagle hotel… a series of cottages and great big lake… pleasant weather… good times… when we checked in last night we heard this music coming from one of the bigger cabins here… and curious we slinked on in to take a look…
The entire staff of the hotel were dancing and haing a great time! Man… it was cool… they were dancing so close… well… I’d never seen anything like that before… so sweaty and dare I say… suggestive in a dirty way… I happened to be standing next to this younger looking woman… I mean… almost a child as far as concerned… when I noticed she’d locked eyes with one of the dancers… he motioned for her to come closer and they disappeared into the crowd all entwined and pulsated… I hope they had the time of their lives.
Oh… our promo shots are done… here’s one…
See ya…
grimm
Mum’s… fun time interesting lineup… june star was fabulous… we played some spirited versions of new and old tunes… thunder from the new album… spectacular in its simplicity and swelling pedal steel… some rockin’ versions of hard working miner and saint reaffirmed our status as baltimore’s most incredible rock band in Baltimore, according to the City Paper’s 2014 Reader’s Poll.
Sound in Stone snuck on in to Federal Hill towing a 12x8 trailer to their 8 passenger van… seems more like they were planning to live on the road and never go home… their set was lively despite few folks in the audience… some sort gypsy rock and roll three part harmony tuba stuff… strange and good…
Healing Hearts were playing their first show… some jitters aside they closed their eyes and played well… they got through it… important with that first show, right?
I’m on the road right now with Mark McKay… we’re in Hamilton, NY… the home of Colgate College where Mark matriculated and graduated… quaint joint for certain… two kind of main streets… two theaters… we played the palace theater… and as I type… I’m looking across some sort of lake… staying at the white eagle hotel… a series of cottages and great big lake… pleasant weather… good times… when we checked in last night we heard this music coming from one of the bigger cabins here… and curious we slinked on in to take a look…
The entire staff of the hotel were dancing and haing a great time! Man… it was cool… they were dancing so close… well… I’d never seen anything like that before… so sweaty and dare I say… suggestive in a dirty way… I happened to be standing next to this younger looking woman… I mean… almost a child as far as concerned… when I noticed she’d locked eyes with one of the dancers… he motioned for her to come closer and they disappeared into the crowd all entwined and pulsated… I hope they had the time of their lives.
Oh… our promo shots are done… here’s one…
See ya…
grimm
Monday, August 02, 2010
the game and its pieces
the game is called "booking a tour" and it's hours and of fun.
Object:
align 5 shows together in both a chronological and regional sequence.
Obstacles:
you are relatively unkown, people lack imagination, you are relatively unknown
Directions:
1. Gather your materials (press kit, contacts of venues, patience)
2. Roll the dice (email the venue) if talent buyer emails you back (this could take 1 day to 4 weeks) move forward two spaces. If there is no response, role again.
3. Repeat steps 1 and 2 at least 30 to 40 times a day.
Seriously... booking cd release tour for October and it's starting to come together...
Tue. October 19 @ the Town Pump Black Mountain, NC
Wed. October 20 @ Snug Harbor Charlotte, NC
Thu. October 21 @ the Cave Chapel Hill, NC
Trying to fill in the 17th and the 18th... Monday and Sunday night... yikes... not much fun at all... but i'm getting back into the spirit of the whole thing... I've been working on November and now, today! I begin December... January... we're going to back to the South... whoo hoo...
status of the album,
master, complete
artwork, near complete
photos, wednesday
shows coming up... this Friday at Mum's... you bums... get out there... twil be fun.
grimm
Object:
align 5 shows together in both a chronological and regional sequence.
Obstacles:
you are relatively unkown, people lack imagination, you are relatively unknown
Directions:
1. Gather your materials (press kit, contacts of venues, patience)
2. Roll the dice (email the venue) if talent buyer emails you back (this could take 1 day to 4 weeks) move forward two spaces. If there is no response, role again.
3. Repeat steps 1 and 2 at least 30 to 40 times a day.
Seriously... booking cd release tour for October and it's starting to come together...
Tue. October 19 @ the Town Pump Black Mountain, NC
Wed. October 20 @ Snug Harbor Charlotte, NC
Thu. October 21 @ the Cave Chapel Hill, NC
Trying to fill in the 17th and the 18th... Monday and Sunday night... yikes... not much fun at all... but i'm getting back into the spirit of the whole thing... I've been working on November and now, today! I begin December... January... we're going to back to the South... whoo hoo...
status of the album,
master, complete
artwork, near complete
photos, wednesday
shows coming up... this Friday at Mum's... you bums... get out there... twil be fun.
grimm
Saturday, July 24, 2010
rare earth
so it's hot out... oppressive and rending... what rough beast slouches towards bethlehem? big ol' heat index it what. that ringing in my ears turns out to be an air conditioning unit.
summer lurches on.
we are at the middle... the end becomes reality, and our priorities kick into gear for fear of not accomplishing them.
the fall awaits.
cool weather... the stereotype television reporter will say, "Relief is on the way!" because the heat is extreme... but then they will retort in a few month's "Relief is on the way with spring time coming around." As it is too cold... i dislike stereotype cliched acting.
probably why i never liked teachers all that much... talking about sitting on a tropical beach with their toes in the water and a waiter bringing them some fruity mixed drink... pathetic.
the same teachers who complained about students and how important teaching is to the world and their salaries were too low... it makes me sneer. venemous.
i think i'm happier where i am, now. of course i send emails to talent buyers who never respond... which makes me think that perhaps those people don't exist... and someday... i hope to meet them... they are harper lee... they are jd salinger... they are howard hughes... without the money or literary credibility...
funny.
grimm
summer lurches on.
we are at the middle... the end becomes reality, and our priorities kick into gear for fear of not accomplishing them.
the fall awaits.
cool weather... the stereotype television reporter will say, "Relief is on the way!" because the heat is extreme... but then they will retort in a few month's "Relief is on the way with spring time coming around." As it is too cold... i dislike stereotype cliched acting.
probably why i never liked teachers all that much... talking about sitting on a tropical beach with their toes in the water and a waiter bringing them some fruity mixed drink... pathetic.
the same teachers who complained about students and how important teaching is to the world and their salaries were too low... it makes me sneer. venemous.
i think i'm happier where i am, now. of course i send emails to talent buyers who never respond... which makes me think that perhaps those people don't exist... and someday... i hope to meet them... they are harper lee... they are jd salinger... they are howard hughes... without the money or literary credibility...
funny.
grimm
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