Sunset over Whitesboro, TX, taken off Hwy 82 on Christmas Eve.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Audition day
Ok, it's taken me a long time to follow up on my audition. Get used to it, lady and/or gentleman. It may take some kind of brain-computer mind meld invention before I get up to speed with this blogging thing. I expect Mr. Jobs will have it figured out by the end of the decade. And for those uninterested scrolling down, here's the beginning of the story.
The weather Tuesday morning was relatively awful, by North Texas standards. Which means, not particularly awful at all according to anyone who lives north of Sherman. We are a bunch of chicken littles. And on the roads, we're dipshits. Put those two together when there's a wee bit of ice on a bridge and the news stations start a casualty count. Seriously, we had a small dusting of freezing rain overnight and something they call 'freezing fog' that morning, bridges were a little icy and schools were closing. Yes, it was a miserably cold, ridiculously foggy, all around craptastic day. But bad enough to close a school? Are you kidding? This town needs to grow a pair, and I'm not talking about the kind hanging from the tow hitch on my neighbor's F-150. Well, ok, I sort of am, but those are the kind of 'pair' that cause folks to think black ice doesn't apply to them.
Anyway, there was concern expressed for my safety in getting to my audition for this 50s/ rockabilly/swing/ blues jump & jive band. No need to worry, because that was hours away, and the sand trucks were working overtime on the bridges. Roadways on land were fine. It was 70* two days prior, for pete's sake. But just because I figured traffic would be awful, and I would be venturing into a land unknown, I did try to leave a bit earlier. Fortunately the audition was at 8pm so there was a good amount of time to get gussied up.
Traffic and the roads, as I suspected, were just fine. I managed to get myself lost on the way, but I had figured that into my travel time already. Fifteen minutes to spare, and I arrive at a 50s bungalow with an aluminum Christmas tree in the window. Yep, complete with revolving color projector. The band is auditioning someone else in the back and the 'main guy', owner of the house and studio, had asked his girlfriend to come and greet the nervous little chickies. So since they're running behind, I sit for a bit with her and admire the home, which has belonged in his family for over 50 years. Main Dude walks in and he seems supremely excited to see me. I think it was the sweater- everyone really got a kick out of it. (score!)
The band rehearses in his converted garage. Quite packed with people, instruments, amps, a washer/dryer and other bits and pieces. Let's see.. arranged in a thin, pressed oval, we've got a sax player, keys, gee-tar, drums, bass and trumpet. An open, mocking mic stands between the bass and trumpet. This is where I squeezed in, less than a foot away from the opportunity to increase my vibrato with a strategically placed spin cycle.
Introductions. Pleasantries and did you see my sweater? My throat is dry. Let's begin.
Well, I can't say I hit it out of the ballpark, but I don't know that I was too terrible. Definitely forgot lyrics here and there (and there.. and -oops- feedback.. maybe they didn't notice me miss the lyrics there.. and whose bright idea was it for me to bring my tambourine? Note to self: you can not double task during an audition), generally sounded ok (except for that supremely unwise reach for a glory note. apologies to all alley cats), and tried my best to have personality and fun. Either they like me, or they're all impossibly nice. But man alive, these cats are good. Really. good.
I walk back out through the house and the band takes a break as well. The next audition hasn't arrived yet, so the girlfriend offers me snacks and something to drink. She and I chat for a bit more, and at one point I glance around and see that Main Dude is standing in the kitchen, looking at us with a big grin of approval on his face. Oh dear. He goes back outside and she tells me that despite the fact he has been very successful in his other musical ventures, this particular band, with this particular music, is his Dream. I thanked her for not telling me that before the audition. Because, you know, no pressure.
Time to go home, though. The next girl arrives with her husband? boyfriend? and they both go back to the studio. As they walk by, the air gets heavy and thick with the unmistakable scent of.. sweater envy. "Sing your heart out, chica," I think, "you might win the talent portion, but I've got eveningwear slammed." Can't imagine where her friend is going to be- maybe he'll sit on the washer? Either way, I don't want to hear any of it and it's just time to go. My 'check engine' light blessed me with its presence on the way down, and just in case I blow up, I'd like to do it as close to home and as far away from midnight as possible.
Gather my things, final goodbyes, get in car, call home. I set off for a long drive, feeling nothing but tired.
The weather Tuesday morning was relatively awful, by North Texas standards. Which means, not particularly awful at all according to anyone who lives north of Sherman. We are a bunch of chicken littles. And on the roads, we're dipshits. Put those two together when there's a wee bit of ice on a bridge and the news stations start a casualty count. Seriously, we had a small dusting of freezing rain overnight and something they call 'freezing fog' that morning, bridges were a little icy and schools were closing. Yes, it was a miserably cold, ridiculously foggy, all around craptastic day. But bad enough to close a school? Are you kidding? This town needs to grow a pair, and I'm not talking about the kind hanging from the tow hitch on my neighbor's F-150. Well, ok, I sort of am, but those are the kind of 'pair' that cause folks to think black ice doesn't apply to them.
Anyway, there was concern expressed for my safety in getting to my audition for this 50s/ rockabilly/swing/ blues jump & jive band. No need to worry, because that was hours away, and the sand trucks were working overtime on the bridges. Roadways on land were fine. It was 70* two days prior, for pete's sake. But just because I figured traffic would be awful, and I would be venturing into a land unknown, I did try to leave a bit earlier. Fortunately the audition was at 8pm so there was a good amount of time to get gussied up.
my uncle's letter sweater from 1960. Before I noticed the name sewn into the sweater, I thought it was my father's. They both lettered in tennis!
Check out the Laverne shirt!
Traffic and the roads, as I suspected, were just fine. I managed to get myself lost on the way, but I had figured that into my travel time already. Fifteen minutes to spare, and I arrive at a 50s bungalow with an aluminum Christmas tree in the window. Yep, complete with revolving color projector. The band is auditioning someone else in the back and the 'main guy', owner of the house and studio, had asked his girlfriend to come and greet the nervous little chickies. So since they're running behind, I sit for a bit with her and admire the home, which has belonged in his family for over 50 years. Main Dude walks in and he seems supremely excited to see me. I think it was the sweater- everyone really got a kick out of it. (score!)
The band rehearses in his converted garage. Quite packed with people, instruments, amps, a washer/dryer and other bits and pieces. Let's see.. arranged in a thin, pressed oval, we've got a sax player, keys, gee-tar, drums, bass and trumpet. An open, mocking mic stands between the bass and trumpet. This is where I squeezed in, less than a foot away from the opportunity to increase my vibrato with a strategically placed spin cycle.
Introductions. Pleasantries and did you see my sweater? My throat is dry. Let's begin.
Well, I can't say I hit it out of the ballpark, but I don't know that I was too terrible. Definitely forgot lyrics here and there (and there.. and -oops- feedback.. maybe they didn't notice me miss the lyrics there.. and whose bright idea was it for me to bring my tambourine? Note to self: you can not double task during an audition), generally sounded ok (except for that supremely unwise reach for a glory note. apologies to all alley cats), and tried my best to have personality and fun. Either they like me, or they're all impossibly nice. But man alive, these cats are good. Really. good.
I walk back out through the house and the band takes a break as well. The next audition hasn't arrived yet, so the girlfriend offers me snacks and something to drink. She and I chat for a bit more, and at one point I glance around and see that Main Dude is standing in the kitchen, looking at us with a big grin of approval on his face. Oh dear. He goes back outside and she tells me that despite the fact he has been very successful in his other musical ventures, this particular band, with this particular music, is his Dream. I thanked her for not telling me that before the audition. Because, you know, no pressure.
Time to go home, though. The next girl arrives with her husband? boyfriend? and they both go back to the studio. As they walk by, the air gets heavy and thick with the unmistakable scent of.. sweater envy. "Sing your heart out, chica," I think, "you might win the talent portion, but I've got eveningwear slammed." Can't imagine where her friend is going to be- maybe he'll sit on the washer? Either way, I don't want to hear any of it and it's just time to go. My 'check engine' light blessed me with its presence on the way down, and just in case I blow up, I'd like to do it as close to home and as far away from midnight as possible.
Gather my things, final goodbyes, get in car, call home. I set off for a long drive, feeling nothing but tired.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sound and vision
One of my favorite people introduced me to this video a while back. It is now one of my all-time favorite covers, with a fabulous video to match.
http://pitchfork.tv/videos/the-sea-cake-sound-vision
http://pitchfork.tv/videos/the-sea-cake-sound-vision
Monday, December 22, 2008
Volcano on the horizon
Gorgeous, gorgeous sunrise this morning, like lava spilling across the sky. I'm very thankful I was awake to see it.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Neck sticking-outing time
T-minus 23 hours and I will be far away (for a Tuesday night!) in Arlington on an audition for a band. It's been a long time since I've done this. Life, as it will, has gotten in the way since the last band I was in. Granted, my experience turned out to be less than stellar so I guess I can admit that I allowed life to get in the way for a while. But the time has finally rolled around to where I am tired of not singing. Yeah, I was in a few musicals here and there, appeared with a local chorus during their Christmas show a few times.. all good, very good experiences. Especially this latest show with the chorus.
At any rate, I decided I wanted to sing in a band again. Not just decided I wanted to- I'd been feeling that way for quite some time- but decided I was going to do something about it. For reals. And that's the part that gets scary, right? Wanting to do something is safe, but actually doing something is the risky, you could fail and make a fool of yourself part. So I had to get through a lot of self-sabotage first:
Crap.
And now I've done it. Crap! I've found a few bands and I've responded to their ads. Crap!
There have been three ads so far that look good. The first one I responded to looked, I thought, to be pretty close to what felt.. I dunno, risky with an element of difficulty but definitely inside my musical comfort zone. It's a duo who want a woman to sing jazz and standards. Good enough; I'm a big fan of jazz, and who doesn't like a girl from Ipanema every once in a while? (I hear they're lovely.) Another plus- they've been pro on their own (individually and together) for thirty years. They've responded back to me and want to meet, do an audition. And this is great, but something keeps nagging at me. I finally figure it out- they seem schlocky. A guitar, a saxophone, and vocals. All the rest- keyboards, drums, etc- is filled in by looping midi. That's it- I'm just a little ooged out by singing Jobim while being backed up by the unflinching rhythm of the Yamaha "Samba #4". 'Listen to your gut,' says Gin, who is emailing me from the safety of her own home, far away from me and any buffet-related weaponry.
Second ad. Moving right inside my comfort zone, here we have someone looking for a partner to do acoustic covers like Norah Jones, Sarah McLachlan and that sort of thing. Definitely a direction I'd like to investigate. I'm gonna let that one rumble around in my head for a few days because OHMYGOD I'm responding to this next one:
50s- 60s era full band: sax, trumpet, bass/ stand-up bass, drums, keyboard, male vocalist/guitarist. Old-school jump blues, swing, rockabilly. Lookin' fer a ladysinger.
Oh. hell. yes.
So now I'm trying my hardest to memorize four - yes, just four- songs for this audition tomorrow night. They sent all auditioners (auditionees? auditties?) a list of six songs from their repertoire, and we were to prepare three or four. I didn't get the music until Thursday, I think. Left me with the whole weekend and Monday to learn them, and how is that not enough time? I dunno. Ask my brain, which is being less than cooperative.
At any rate, I decided I wanted to sing in a band again. Not just decided I wanted to- I'd been feeling that way for quite some time- but decided I was going to do something about it. For reals. And that's the part that gets scary, right? Wanting to do something is safe, but actually doing something is the risky, you could fail and make a fool of yourself part. So I had to get through a lot of self-sabotage first:
I'm too old. I'm too overweight. I don't have enough experience. I don't know how to communicate to other musicians.I expressed all these doubts to Gin at lunch a few weeks back, and she promptly stood up, grabbed her La Madeleine tray, and hacked at my neck with the thin bit. One of her mottos is 'you don't know if you don't try', and she did a fantastic job of reminding me of this, as well as adding a lot of wind to my sails. (not to mention a lot of blood to my neck and shoulder areas.) I left that lunch feeling pretty good, and immediately started looking for bands. 'She's right', I thought, 'I am who I am and screw it.'
Crap.
And now I've done it. Crap! I've found a few bands and I've responded to their ads. Crap!
There have been three ads so far that look good. The first one I responded to looked, I thought, to be pretty close to what felt.. I dunno, risky with an element of difficulty but definitely inside my musical comfort zone. It's a duo who want a woman to sing jazz and standards. Good enough; I'm a big fan of jazz, and who doesn't like a girl from Ipanema every once in a while? (I hear they're lovely.) Another plus- they've been pro on their own (individually and together) for thirty years. They've responded back to me and want to meet, do an audition. And this is great, but something keeps nagging at me. I finally figure it out- they seem schlocky. A guitar, a saxophone, and vocals. All the rest- keyboards, drums, etc- is filled in by looping midi. That's it- I'm just a little ooged out by singing Jobim while being backed up by the unflinching rhythm of the Yamaha "Samba #4". 'Listen to your gut,' says Gin, who is emailing me from the safety of her own home, far away from me and any buffet-related weaponry.
Second ad. Moving right inside my comfort zone, here we have someone looking for a partner to do acoustic covers like Norah Jones, Sarah McLachlan and that sort of thing. Definitely a direction I'd like to investigate. I'm gonna let that one rumble around in my head for a few days because OHMYGOD I'm responding to this next one:
50s- 60s era full band: sax, trumpet, bass/ stand-up bass, drums, keyboard, male vocalist/guitarist. Old-school jump blues, swing, rockabilly. Lookin' fer a ladysinger.
Oh. hell. yes.
So now I'm trying my hardest to memorize four - yes, just four- songs for this audition tomorrow night. They sent all auditioners (auditionees? auditties?) a list of six songs from their repertoire, and we were to prepare three or four. I didn't get the music until Thursday, I think. Left me with the whole weekend and Monday to learn them, and how is that not enough time? I dunno. Ask my brain, which is being less than cooperative.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
If Princess Leia had cats
Gertie and Grace, practicing their roles as Earmuff Cat #1 and #2 in the next Star Wars movie.
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