this one was particularly syrupy

good morning ~

(click the link / mean eyed disco ball shadow to listen)

My Big Breakthis one was particularly syrupy

today’s track is me continuing to learn how to use this new sampler and synth I just got and having the time of my life, haha

I don’t have any upcoming gigs to plug, but I am in fact suddenly looking for work, particularly in the months of December and January. Got anything for me? I excel at many things and have done many things for money, here is a small list: writing (esp. bios / liner notes), graphic design (esp. merch), soundtracking film and video, remote recording, live music event production, live sound, DJing, etc. I am also food safety certified in New York State and am an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. I am taking gigs and would also accept a new steady day job if ya got one handy, thanks.

The first sign that things were going well was that everything we needed to get into the car crammed in there with little to no effort - I didn't even need to cradle a guitar in my lap. For some reason we listened to a lot of Neil Diamond as we made our way south.

It was the faintest glimmer of that us-against-the-world mischievous fun energy that being on tour sometimes gives you. We hadn't really earned it - I would end up sleeping in my own bed after each of the gigs - but I savored it anyway. Was there ever an alternate reality where I actually made a go of it all the way and continually got in the van? I've never been brave enough and - more importantly - not enough people have determined that they want to get a cut of whatever money I'm making from playing music. It's served me as a deeply nourishing, non-commercial practice - nearly every single important relationship of my adult life has come from my obstinance to remain a musician. So I felt happy bopping along and noting the quality of the production on "I Am, I Said" while posting a little Instagram story of Lea giggling in the front seat. Come to the show tonight.

Somewhat last minute my buddy filled in on the bill and he kindly invited me to play a couple of songs with his band, songs that I don't think we've played together in, like, four years. During soundcheck I was too preoccupied with remembering the parts to really clock what I was feeling, but they wrung my heart out when we played them for real. I always hear our lost friend's voice on these tunes, but when Jackie soared and hit the harmonies I felt a jolt run through me that made me want to run from the room. Everyone would be healed if the work of it was easy, though, so I played the guitar solo as best I could, a heavy shot of medicine.

The milling around felt so good - I wanted to keep catching up or meeting these folks forever, at this familiar bar from my past that feels one million years away from where and how I live now. The neighborhood was aggressively unfamiliar to me, though, and I couldn't accurately remember who lived nearby or even in the borough - four years absent from New York City is like being gone 20 years in any other city in America. Isaac told me about his ambient garage project while the last of the paying customers filtered out and at an unreasonably late hour we got back into the car, one guitar less ballasted. 3am is so relative - I stay up that late often for dancing or for work but this one was particularly syrupy.

When we finally got in the sauna I could feel the heat of it drawing a deep and ancient exhaustion from somewhere below my gut - long tensed muscles unclenched as I sweat. And the icy spray of the outdoor shower shook something loose. I was clearer than I'd been in weeks, the edges of my vision sharp. We all chatted but I wasn't really paying attention. I was unreachably sleepy and after I got my clothes back on and while everyone else ate their dinners I splayed on the white, low-slung couch in the shadow of the gong and counted disco ball glimmers until I promptly fell asleep. I wasn't out long but the world had changed completely in the 20 minutes I was dreaming. Now here is the after.

The opening gong bath was phenomenal - following some plaintive singing the big, round sheet of metal thundered tremendously, bending its eerie tones as it swung to and fro on the stand. I was quite nearby and I could hear nothing else - all frequencies, present and shimmering, a deep basso profundo rooting me to the cushions. I will admit that I kept intermittently falling back asleep and in doing so completely lost track of time - I know not she began nor for how long she played and I bobbed in and out of conscious attention, a buoy gently clanging. The set ended as it began with singing and as the gong finally stopped ringing out I could feel every single follicle and every single mechanism of my inner ear.

The room is so lovely - an intimate scale, soft carpets, everything smells good, the ceilings are tall enough to evoke a church but not towering enough to make you feel smaller than the creator. But the room is also not necessarily set up for a five piece guitar band to play, plus Lea sings particularly quietly on this material. The house PA serves the room fine but it was just a hair too quiet and so it caused us to listen deeply and play more sensitively than we might of at a more traditional bar venue. It was the most prepared I've felt to actually conjure something - the ritual magic of the afternoon and of the evening had done its work.

Hard to describe the actual sensation of playing a set - it felt "good" and the music sounded "good" and that is perhaps the truest thing I could say. There was an ease, too, to the playing of the music, and I found myself enjoying everyone else's contributions instead of anticipating what I might have to do next. I finally learned the songs, or did the songs learn me?

But what about you? When was the last time you were in a sauna? When was the last time you heard a gong IRL? How fast are things changing in cities you used to live in?