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.

Movement on the Home Front. Literally and Figuratively.

I moved into a new house a couple weeks ago. For this I am pleased. My
new house carries tons of internal and external character. It's orange
on the inside and out, which is unique and brightens the place up.
I've seen several characters mounting these small motorcycles and
riding them through the neighborhood..the strange thing is they're
like dune buggies, but set in a completely new urban environment. In
fact, yesterday, I saw some kids riding these very motorcycles on the
track outside of our house. There's nothing more frustrating than
getting circled while running around a track in 100 degrees. It's
close to being without water for one week and then trying to find your
way into a caged water park. These kids that surrounded me on their
bikes like a tyke gang asked me how many laps i'd been running: this
was extremely important to them. Their inquiring excited my memory,
and I remembered that this is MOST important to an 11 year old. The
MOST important question to an 11 year old boy, or at least to me when
I was eleven, is " how many?" "how much?"....they simply have no time
for people that cannot achieve physical excellence at insane rates.
This boy really cared about how many laps I had ran and the amount of
time that I had been there, because he'd asked the latter question
first. Astounding. Oh..11..where have you gone?

I am about to go into the studio to work on my third release. I cannot
express how excited this makes me. I really feel as if it's my 2nd 1/2
release because ADVANCEMENT only has 7 songs...in the modern age, it's
hard to classify that as purely "a record"... as a matter of fact, I
called it an EP to settle the scores. I'm happy about this particular
record because it's looking much more celebratory in it's own way.
With ADVANCEMENT, it felt just like that in many senses. It felt like
a move forward and that's all. Completely necessary, but more mental
than spiritual in approach and kind of all over the place. I'm working
with a similiar team that contributed to ADVANCEMENT. I've also
co-written tons for it. Don't worry, there are no 'featuring' slots on
it. No Akon or Pastor Troy..anything like that Although...that would serve it in a way...negative or positive, I
cannot say . When I co-write, I leave it there. It's also communal,
this effort, with the co-writes and short story book. There's a label
thats putting it out as well. Rebuilt Records out of Athens, GA. Jason
Harwell runs it, and I think he's the personification of directed,
convicting, underground music...with his principles and all. Stay
tuned.

Fare Thee Well Hard Drive

As far as anyone can tell...my hard drive died last night after 3 years
of hard work in my mac G4 power book. Bad news is, I didn't back up
some important documents that most definitely need some backing up. So,
I called a friend who has the power with all things computer and he
said my last hope was to freeze the drive (literally) to retrieve all
of the needed data..this was astounding to me. Anyways, my friend Jason
saw how much this was affecting my health as I was pacing back and
forth and trying to put together a rescue plan for data retrieval. So
he took it, and he'll mess with it...he might freeze it....for now, no
laptop.Just using whatever I can find. The POINT: Losing something like
a laptop makes me realize the unbelievable amount of time I spend
investing into machines. My friend Sarah and I were talking the other
night about this problem. She told me that it's almost like a part of
us (our humanity) has already become so dependent on technology that
it's like we're clones... an extension of ourselves. It's very unusual
how people,relationships, and connections become so disposable. This is
so, obviously, for an array of reasons, but I'm saying technology
proves as a very solid barrier for true,organic human interaction. It
provides tons of resources and connections that would otherwise be
unattainable. But it seems to de-humainze a whole lot. I could explain
why, but it's sort of ambiguous to me...I mean it's in the early stages
of my own processing. There's also the question of how it's
(technology) used...whether it's as an aid or abandaid. Simply questioning, that's all.

Last
week, I went to a local farmers gathering where folks were invited for
$10 to eat locally raised and grown pork, beer,biscuits and collard
greens.I can't recall the name of the group that put it together, but
visit my chum Cameron's blog..it's to your right...he invited me to
this event and I owe him $10 for getting me in. The place was vibrant
with conversation, laughter, and farm people. You could tell the
farmer's children had an element of non restraint that was completely
attractive. They had land... they grew and raised food...from means to
end....from seed to plant. The farmer's seemed to maintain a
nonchalant, open disposition that was unlike the city or suburbia folk I'm accustomed to. One farmer even offered me a job on his farm after catching a glimpse of the VESPA t-shirt I had on. He told me I could ride 1 of the 2 engine-less VESPAs he owned on his farm. Part of me wanted to take him up on it. These seemed like a peculiar people who had survived some of the violence of technology. I'm sure they may have computers and/or TVs
, microwaves, fax machines. But these people seemed to understand
process, sun, earth, and what not. There's an inherent connection
there. It inspired me in a roundabout way. God bless the farmers.