Summer Re-Cap and Looking for God's Phone Number

Well, this summer was a whirlwind of time. I played more music than I ever have during one season. I've begun to shift into a period of time that I always really enjoy: home (more on this later). In June, I toured with the incomparable Richard Julian. I recommend picking up his latest release "Sunday Morning in Saturday's Shoes". We ran into early weather roadblocks and even had a show cancelled in Des Moines due to flooding. We didn't trust the fancy GPS to navigate us through flood water, although it seemed completely capable somehow. Learned a whole lot about song writing from Richard on this run. Every night his show never rusted over. His songs have layers and layers of unassumed richness. In July and the first part of this month, I opened a slew of dates with my gracious and good friend, Jon Mclaughlin. These dates took me to a part of the country that I'd never seen before-The Wild West and New Orleans. I'd seen landscapes similar to these, I think, in an airplane before. From the top, not linear/flat. From the top, it looks like a bunch of crumpled up construction paper undone and laid on top of varying sizes of rock. Everything was extremely new and mesmerizing to see. Seems like all dinosaurs were born on the road from Houston to New Orleans. It looks like God got experimental on the vegetation there while taking breaks between hammering on the sun and moon. Or something like that!
Anyway, everyone should check out Jon's new record that's releasing early October. I really enjoy a tune called "You Can Never Go Back"...It will make you move. We had a major good time riding scooters around for a day exploring the great city of Seattle. Here's a picture of us before take off. Shown here is Jon's band (experienced riders) and me (non-experienced):



Now, I'm here. Trying to figure out who I am and where I'm from once again! Learning how to get back involved in serving in several different capacities and ways. Remembering that God does speak, and it's my job to stay still and to try listening for it. Then submitting to it. The music has never really come out well unless God's propelling the whole operation, not me. I was joking last week with a friend about trying to find God's phone number (weak metaphor..i know) and likening it to prayer. Maybe, He's at the very back of the crowd behind our circumstances and worries pushing forward. Maybe, He's flailing a piece of paper up in the air with that very number on it. By the time we reach Him, maybe, it's blank. Might have been all he could do to get near.
Micah

NoiseTrade Widget

To Sting or not to Sting?

Last week, the me and the band found ourselves in the grand midwest, foreclosing any hopes of catching a visually stimulating aesthetic on the road. I will say that the serenity within Ohio, and most particularly Indiana, provides within itself a sort of stimulation that pierces enough on its own. We also were listening to a whole lot of the Bon Iver record which is just really dang good. Anyway, we had some time on Saturday to kill. I caught Ryan Horne (of Ryan Horne and his own smoking army), James (bass), and Chris (drums) completely mesmerized on camera. Here:





You're most assuredly making your own presuppositions. What could captivate such an elusive audience? A seemingly impossible audience of grown people with their own agendas and precious free time. Maybe news of harsh weather approaching the area? The You Tube video of the british children biting at each others fingers? billiards on ESPN2? Try this on for size:






That's right...the audaciously blond god of the Police, Sting. These guys watched a whole lot of this DVD. This photo is taken from Sting live at the OMNI in 1983. The Omni was the home (before its removal) to Atlanta icons Dominique Wilkins and Spud Webb and, apparently, this bizarre showcase of the Police in their arena prime. A time period that I cannot and will not understand. Other than I was born the year later. I would liken the whole concert to an out take of the middle part of "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom", where there's loads of over aggressive tribal warriors howling (in their own dialect I assume) for the removal of our dear Harrison Ford's heart. There was nothing cohesive about this DVD. Which made it completely awesome and engaging. Sting 4 life.

Paul & Katie's

Tonight, I'm at Paul and Katie's house. They live in Cumming which is around 30-40 minutes north of my house in downtown Atlanta. I met Paul sometime back (2 years), and he's a very reliable/ responsible friend/brother. His wife, Katie, is pretty pregnant right now which is a beautiful thing. She's also a force. I come here basically every week because they offer an array of life's best gifts including but not limited to: proper meals, bigger/softer bed than mine, quiet...but the greatest of these is a constant basic friendship. Paul makes music too. He's started a studio called DOMAS. I've dabbled in becoming a session guitar player at DOMAS. Paul kind of thinks that I am, so I'm coming closer to think I am. They're moving to Athens soon, and I'm positive I'm going to have a hard time letting them go. I like coming here week in and week out. It's (my time here) truly deeply embedded into my strange existence. When you don't have but a couple of constants, you cling to the ones you got. Here's to Katie & Paul's.

11.19.07-Thanksgiving and the Parade Phenomena

Monday's aren't so bad as people say. I don't have a conventional
schedule either, really. Today wasn't a good Monday, though, as my
lack of dental insurance has delivered the proverbial financial sting.
Looks like I need a sum total of three root canals as a result of my
bicycle wreck some two months ago. All of you really should (If you
haven't already) take a thorough look at my catalogue of music and
consider buying some songs for loved ones to lift their Christmas
spirits and lower my dental bill.
Everyone wins.
It's mad hot outside for mid/late November. I remember a scorching
Thanksgiving Day when I was seven years old. At that point in my life,
Thanksgiving was (unfortunately) just as much about the Macy's Day
Parade as it was being thankful. I don't know why. Parades are so
strange. And expensive too. Tradition...sure...I get it. They're very
strange, though. Large blow-up characters, dancers in Santa-wear,
special appearances from famous singers, and whatever else. I don't
think I'd find parades strange if it weren't for the inordinate amount
of hype that surrounds them. Man, people would lose their minds if
there were no Macy's Day Parade. Those same people probably have
hefty, long conversations about things that are mostly secondary in
any context. The flavor of salt. Salt is salt, man. But, I had a way
better perspective as a seven-year-old than I do now. So, parades must
serve some public service, because my seven-year-old mind was a
creative force, and I thought parades were dope. I'm convinced that I
would have no limits as an artist if I had access to my seven-year-old
mind; however, I would have to convince my seven-year-old self not to
focus soley on athletic portrait drawing. Always a catch.
Here's to being thankful in the midst of moderately hard times. It's
what I'm trying to do these days.

Micah

Record Done but Laptop Stolen.

I have taken a serious hiatus from the blog world, and there is no good reason for it: truth be told. However, some shifts have happened..some good and bad. Someone stole my lap top. The lap top has recently had a tumultuous journey as I just replaced the hard drive recently. She served me well for about 3 years. And whoever stole it: I reckon you needed it more than I did. The good news is..we finished the record...it's done. We spent 2 days finishing mixes and tweaks this past weekend in Nashville. Our friend Stephen Gause did a wonderful job of setting the sonic tone and coloring these tunes. I cannot wait for this piece to hit the streets. It's the fruit of hours of labor, coffee drinking, arguing over lyrics/arranging, creating characters, meeting real ones, getting lost in a song, getting found in a song, and, finally, breathing deep. I'm coming up to New York again. If you're there we should go to Virgil's in Times Square. It's not particularly a New York experience, in fact, it's a southern BBQ joint. But I don't care, it tastes good. By the way, the laptop is getting replaced. Bam, bam, body slam.

Micah

Sandlot Baseball + Studio= Blog

We're going to make it after all. I was talking to a friend about our
'pre-release' or 'currently-working-on-a-record' nervousness/anxiety
this morning over coffee. It's something that I didn't have during the
process of my first record. Why should I? Nobody listened to my music
anyway. I was excited about 1000% percent of the time before, during,
and after the process of it. Just working on a record was an end in
itself. There's a certain excitement that's prevalent in the air, or,
at least, in my own air that's reminiscent of the old days - you know,
three years ago. James Gregory and I have been at work making what
will become "PAWNSHOP" or something like it - a 12 song collective of
jams that my consciousness no longer had room for. Here are the
tentative titles of said jams:

Down, Down, Put it Down
I'll Find you in Ohio
She Uses Love Like a Cuss Word
Rev. Ramshack Run
We Could Take the Back Roads
Looking for a New Way
What Would I Do Were They Free?
Easier to Read
We Came Alive Tonight
The Grandest Prize
The Autobiography of Milton Burrows
Your Name is

It's a strange time to give birth to a new musical project as world
issues on a grander scale show themselves strong. War and sadness
going hand in hand. The UN has yet to really get their hands dirty in
Sudan. Thirty percent of my tax dollar goes into military spending.
That bothers me in a general way, but if I were to have that going to
something, it would be nice to know that some of that coin is heading
to fight genocide. It's a do or die issue. I'm not nearly as aware and
pro-active as some folks I know, but any attempt to create a
collective sympathy for a drastic cause seems worthwhile. Even a
simple blog is a worthy medium.

Right now, my pal Tom Yarbrough is bringing Appalachia straight into
the urban skyline. Tom has his banjo and is using it on this tune
we're working on called "Looking for a New Way." It's a sonic monument
built to both Moses and Martin Luther King, Sr. A wild thing about the
recording process this time is the timeline. It has involved two
really intensive schedules at two different times of the year and two
trips to Europe in between. I never thought to go to Europe, and I
never thought to record half a record in January and half in August.
Tons of surprises. Camping out here in Nashville has been quite a
wonderful couple of weeks. I have one more to go, and I'm kind of
dreading it. The past couple nights have been particularly exciting
because of this NEXT BIG NASHVILLE event. I just happened to land in
town during this event. There are tons of really good acts playing
every night at different venues in town, and I think I haven't had
this much fun since sandlot ball. My friend Robbie played sandlot ball
when he was younger while I played in a proper league across town in
Decatur. I kind of hated playing in Robbie's league because they
planned a sandlot league. You actually had to pay to play as well.
That' s absurd only because the whole idea of sandlot baseball is
grassroots and underground. You have to call it rec ball, not sandlot.
Sandlot ball is avant garde, backyard, magic. Plus, in Robbie's
league, they didn't keep score. Unforgiveable.