It has been a while

Apologies for the lack of stories and updates. I have been working on a lot of new writing and am gearing up for a trip to New Zealand beginning June 7. I will post new writings from life in Dallas and a recent trip to New Mexico shortly. Happy spring!

Iceland's as happy as Iceland can be

My heart goes out to the Icelandic people. It is a bittersweet situation because the people have effectively caused Parliament to call a snap election (yeah democracy!) but the credit crisis continues to cripple the economy. I know that few care about Iceland as much as I do, but as a destination for the casual traveler it has so much to offer. So if you are in a position to travel this year, go there! They need your money and you need a destination that won't break your bank. Where else could you go swimming outside (yes, all of the pools are outdoors) in thermal spas in the middle of winter? The countryside is breathtaking and you may even see the tiny horses! If you want to go somewhere that is savage and beautiful now is the time.

So give me coffee + t.v.

It is 6 degrees outside. I'm pretending like it is at least 50. I just heard from Chris at my record label this morning and the release will be pushed back until late February. In the meantime there is a lot of new stuff on the horizon! I need to listen to that new David Byrne/Eno album again...

Dinner With Madame President

Mary Therese Winifred Robinson (1990-1997) was the first female president of Ireland––remarkable for a nation that only decriminalized things like divorce and homosexuality in the 90s. She served for seven years and transformed Ireland into a progressive republic. She is a human rights advocate and resigned from the presidency after her first term to work as the High Commissioner for Human Rights of the United Nations and visited Tibet and South Africa, among other places. And then there was the time where she and I broke bread.

My brush with greatness isn’t as random as it sounds. I took an Irish history and society seminar as a university student and my professor said that President Mary Robinson might come and speak. How he managed that is a mystery. He may have not believed it himself––the former president of Ireland? In central Ohio? Give me a break!

Luckily, the anthropology department had the money to bring her to one of our classes for a Q & A and dinner at our village’s only four-star hotel. I can’t remember if she came for another speaking engagement too because it seemed like a lot of trouble for a world leader to end up in your little village.

The night before I thought of some questions to ask, but didn’t know where to start. I was still in shock that my professor asked me and other fellows in the sociology department to attend the dinner.

Our classroom was in the newest building on campus. The new car smell would hit you as soon as the sliding doors opened. Everyone from the class filed into our room and around the graphite conference table. After sweating for five minutes, she appeared.

Madame President was much taller than I had imagined, or maybe it was just because she had a few inches on my professor. He introduced her to our class and she proceeded to tell us about how life in Ireland has drastically been transformed in the past 15 years. There weren’t many questions. Everyone looked like they had something to say but were too afraid to say anything for fear of sounding like an idiot in front of a world leader. The class ended as quickly as it began and I heard sighs of relief as I went back to my building for a nap before the big dinner.

As night came I agonized over what to wear and ultimately settled on the smartest outfit I could muster in my scant wardrobe: khakis, a starched white shirt, black loafers and a dark green corduroy blazer that was given to me the Christmas before. I met a fellow classmate outside of my building for a ride to the hotel. We didn’t have anything to say to each other because of the mounting anxiety over how to act once we arrived. As she parked her Buick, our professor greeted us with his wife and we walked inside of the inn to meet the President. The university paid for her lodgings in the hotel and was already present as we were seated. I had no idea that she would sit next to me though!

My professor went around the table introducing the student fellows and other professors attending. There were around 10 of us in a side room, sequestered from the public. I looked up at my friend from class who was across the table. As Madame President began to talk, we sat perfectly still like we had rigor mortis. I left the corduroy sport coat on but the sweat began to bead. My eyes kept darting around the table and everyone else appeared to be more reserved than normal, but Madame President kept entertaining us with stories of tea with the Queen of England and her close friendship with Nelson Mandela. There were a lot of wide eyes and nods between sips of ice water. Then it was time to order.

The food was alright, though I expected more from a four-star hotel. Most of us ordered some variety of chicken including Madame President. There was more talk of distant travels and some of the professors chimed in with their own experiences doing field work in the Irish-speaking Gaeltachts or on the streets of Tehran. We students still sat paralyzed, nodding and laughing nervously like people do on a first date. No one had the audacity to order anything alcoholic, though the professors and Madame President had a nice looking Cabernet. She was enjoying herself a bit too much and grabbed my arm and swayed while I chatted with my anthropology professor. I just smiled and went with it.

Before the night drew to a close I was able to ask Madame President a bit about the Irish language and if it is on the rebound like Welsh. She said that she hoped for the best, looking lost in thought. Then we shook hands and I left because I wanted to walk back to my apartment. It drizzled, but I didn’t mind one bit.

A little something...

...to get us through the winter friends! First Eno/David Byrne album since 1981s "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts" is a miracle. "Everything That Happens Will Happen Today." It is very pop, but weird pop in a way that only these two could conjure. Listen, listen!

Yuppy Flu

Happy 2009 all! Several stories are almost complete and will be up on this site soon. Life has started to get a bit hectic because I am getting ready to relocate to Dallas for a little while, so that is where I will be basing all music and writing from for the better part of the year. If you ever make it down, message me and you will have a place to stay while you are in town! I think a visit to Good Records is a must for anyone. Jamie got me Joy Division's "Closer" and Fugazi's "The Argument" on vinyl for xmas from there. Be jealous! ;)

I am obsessed with Land of Talk's album, "Some Are Lakes." Check it out.

The artwork is nearly finalized for "Good Morning, Hummingbird!" and we are looking at a late January or early February release date for that here in North America as well as in pockets of Sweden, Germany and Japan. Fun fun fun! Possible tour dates to follow this year.

Even though the new album will have its wider release soon, I have another album's worth of material that I am molding. I don't see a release this year for it, maybe in 2010. We shall see!

Jamie and I have decided to go backpacking in Mexico sometime after I move and get a new job since airfare to Mexico City is so low from Dallas. Yeah Aztec ruins!

Until next time!

(Lot of links! I just realized!)

The man in the jar

I still cannot finish this new song and it is driving me nuts. Work was slow today because most people have begun their holiday break. It was two above zero on the way downtown and the only thing keeping me together was my iPod. The office was bare and once again I felt caged, or like a dude in a jar. But it's alright. There's tomorrow and then my holiday begins and continues until January 6. It will be a frantic first month of the year because I am planning a move that has been almost a year in the making. I will be heading south and looking for new work. I am still considering the Peace Corps as well and teaching. We'll see what happens. The most important thing is that I will be able to see my girlfriend everyday. It will be so great to be done with long distance love! I will post a new short story that I have been chipping away at when it is done, but if it isn't up until next year then I wish everyone a happy holiday season!

Tundra

Today is one of those days that is so cold that you feel like your limbs will fall off before you even get in the car to go anywhere. Spent most of the day mixing a new song, recording bass parts and writing another new one. Yesterday I finished the artwork for the official release of Good Morning, Hummingbird. It is below.



It will be out in January on Series Two in the US and Canada, Vollwert in the EU, Fraction in Scandanavia and Apple Crumble in Japan. I am going to curl up in my sleeping bag and watch this History Channel show that I just got from the library on cannibalism. I know, random.

Top ten places

Here is a list of the top ten places that I want to visit in my lifetime:

10. Thailand
9. Poland
8. Iran
7. Norway
6. Mongolia
5. Brazil
4. Patagonia (mainly the Chilean side)
3. Kazakhstan
2. Faroe Islands
1. Ethiopia

Kazakhstan

Okay, so this may seem random, but I really want to go to Kazakhstan. Other than being a former Soviet republic and the completely fictional escapades of Borat, not many know what it is all about.

Oddly enough, Kazakhstan is on the top of my list of places to visit--- along with Chile, Argentina, New Zealand and the Faroe Islands. But why Kazakhstan people ask?

I don't have a good answer. Other than being the ninth largest country by area in the world, it is mainly open space. When I read Michael Pollan's book, The Botany of Desire, I learned that apples are native to southeastern Kazakhstan, near the city Almaty (which literally means city of apples or something like that). The city is known for its mountains (the massive Tian Shan mountains are minutes from city limits) and apple orchards. It would be cool to interview horticulturalists.

After querying numerous magazines with my idea to visit Kazakhstan to a resounding 'no,' it is back to the drawing board. Maybe someday soon!

Old Blue

Old Blue

My mom found a cobalt hoodie for me in one of those Carhartt stores years ago. I must have been 14. Whenever it was cold enough outside for a sweater, on it would go. I wore it through most of middle school, all of high school and until the last few weeks of college. It had a hole in the right hand pocket that had been sewn countless times and smelled like trees. Both pockets had innumerable holes from one inch My Bloody Valentine and Velvet Underground buttons. But I didn’t mind.

In college, many of my friends would spot the hoodie to identify me in a crowd. It appeared in 95 percent of all photos and was even used as a pillow several times on my trip to Iceland. And now it is gone.

I don’t mind, really. An ex-girlfriend hijacked old blue and it remains lost in the shuffle. Even though some of my friends are nostalgic for it, I dismiss the longing with a feeble shrug. There are times when it would be nice to wear it again, but nothing lasts forever and time marches on.

Perhaps in my subconscious I didn’t ask to reclaim what was mine because there are more hoodies out there. Or maybe it was just growing up.

After the loss, I went hoodie shopping with one of my good friends at Target and bought one in dark green. It isn’t the same, but gets the job done!

112?!

Apologies for not posting anything for the past month. I will post new writings shortly, and there are many pieces to post! Firstly, I wanted to congratulate everyone who I worked with on the Barack Obama campaign. We did it! I enjoyed every minute of canvassing, phone banking and sharing stories with all of you.

Secondly, I wanted to share a link to today's BBC. I have the day off work because of Veteran's Day here in the States. For much of the world, it is Armistice Day, the celebration of the end of WWI. Today marks the 90th anniversary, and this article highlights the four oldest veterans of the war. They are ages 112, 110, 108 and 107. To me, it is unbelievable that these four are still living. I cannot imagine what horrors they faced in the trenches. For them to still be with us to tell the tale is a cause for celebration. I do not believe that war is just and I am not into military history like some people. But I recognize the difficulty that these four people faced and hope that my children will never have to face such horror. They fought so we don't have to. I hope that I live to be 112...

The Console War Shake Things Up With New E.P.

These are perilous times by no stretch of the imagination. People are losing their savings, consumer confidence is at its lowest levels in decades and the term “indie” has very little to do with bands who set out on an independent path of distribution and touring. We are living in the age of the digital download, where most only listen to their compiled tracks in transit. Mind you, there is nothing wrong with that. The ease and convenience of a download has revolutionized the way we approach and listen to music. But as songwriter Bob Mould recently said, “We are living in an age where music isn’t sacred.” Rarely do we sit alone or in good company listening to an album, taking it in. The Console War’s new E.P. “Cut the Cables” is an exception.

The D.C. duo of Brian Young (guitars, loops, keys, vocals) and Billy Copps (drums, keys, vocals) has always had an affinity for the ethereal, cerebral and angular. Both have been in numerous bands together for the better part of this decade and formed the ‘War in 2005. After their formidable 2007 debut L.P., “Shards,” they played numerous shows in the D.C. area and were back at work on this year’s “Cut the Cables” E.P. The five songs pack a punch that has been rare in this year’s releases.

“Cut the Cables” functions as an air tight unit that should be taken in one sitting. Each track builds on the last, culminating with the demented carnivalesque keyboard drone, thundering toms and looped guitars of “Lines of Communication,” the set’s most emotionally wrenching. The middle half engulfs Kraftwerk’s hypnotic rhythms (“Cut the Cables”) as well as the hauntingly sparse abstractions of Slint and other Touch & Go bands from the 90s like Don Caballero. “Ship of State” is a solid midpoint showing a band who can build layers of momentum while keeping listeners waiting for the next turn.

“View From Down Here” is a gem. A dead ringer for the seminal D.C. group Beauty Pill, it also evokes the ethereal quality of early 90s English shoegazers Slowdive with Young’s fuzzed out guitar loops at the end. “Pipe or Gun,” sets the tone as the opener with Copps’ eerie electronic work and deafening drum breaks mid-song.

Ultimately, “Cut the Cables” shows lots of promise for this sonically tight duo. Sitting in a room with the lights out as it blares from the stereo is enough to make us feel that music can indeed be sacred again.

Listen at www.myspace.com/theconsolewar.

The stars at night, are big and bright...

17.07.08 6ish a.m. en route to Milwaukee Int'l Airport en route to Dallas, TX

The flight was kind of surreal because there were only six people on board…I counted. I felt uneasy because there was a creepy middle-aged woman who was ticketed in the back of the plane, but moved up to the seat in the row directly next to mine and I kept seeing her stare out of my periphery. Haven’t you seen anyone read a book lady?

This is a completely random observation, but U2’s first album, “Boy,” is freaking superb. It is such a shame that this band, who were as punk and edgy (no pun intended) as anyone turned into this caricature of their former selves. On the other hand, that may just be Bone-O, (sorry, Bono) since everyone else in the band is at his mercy. But this record, “War,” and “Joshua Tree” were such great records that the rest of their horrid career doesn’t even matter.

Ireland in the 1980s was a volatile time, and U2 were the musical nonconformists who gave the Irish people hope in a time of hopelessness. It was practically a pariah state, regarded as the most underdeveloped nation in Western Europe. It is a miracle how in 2008, Ireland is one of the most prosperous nations on Earth. It’s about time after 800 plus years of English oppression and civil war. To say that this was all heavy shit is an understatement, but at least we have “Boy.”

To all of the naysayers---pick up a copy of “Boy.” The Edge’s guitar work is truly gorgeous and his tone is near perfect. Bono sounded like a punk rock siren in those days, belting out every line as if his life depended on it. Larry Mullen’s drumming is superb and thick and Adam Clayton’s sparse bass work sets a darker tone than on any other record that they have made, save “War.”

I never thought that these guys would give me the chills, but after listening to the epic centerpiece “An Cat Dubh,” I am trembling.

21.07.08 9:53 a.m. Milwaukee Int’l Airport

I am still reading The Fish Can Sing, another Halldor Laxness novel. It is a mix of Kurt Vonnegut’s wry wit with Gabriel Garcia-Marquez’s poetics.

On Friday, Jamie and I left for Austin. I had wanted to go there for years. Ever since I got into music and heard about SXSW it was always somewhere that I had to see. The three hour drive from Dallas was more impressive than I thought it would be. After the hour-long trek out of Dallas city limits (it sprawls forever…and ever) the bigger sky leads way to vast open spaces with nothing more than a few barns on the horizon. The Texan countryside is mainly grassland, unlike other rural areas that I am familiar with. Any crops would probably be scorched from the blistering summer sun. Humongous Cumulus clouds are layered like cakes and stand frozen in time. It is a nice snapshot of what Texas probably was in the days of the cattle outposts.

The landscape is barren, but not as arid as images of Texas may conjure. The true desert does not begin until west Texas, which is easily a good 10 hour drive in light traffic. It is also not like the pancake flat plains of Dallas, which more closely resembles the Midwest but with more buildings. These grasslands are semi-arid and look like deserts with short, bristly grass and those squat, nubby trees that would not be out-of-place on the Serengeti or other savannahs.

At dusk with our tune blasting, nothing else mattered. The golden and red colors at the horizon made the 105F (40.5 C) day bearable. Austin was smaller than I expected, but was excellent nevertheless. Almost all of the quirky shops, bars, and venues were on 6^th street, which also leads up to the Texas State Capitol building. Again at dusk, the view of the Capitol, which is on a slight incline, is breathtaking.

Jamie and I had dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant on 6^th street and we both ordered their Pho to see how it compared to other places. The décor was pretty trendy and pretentious. The wall was covered in huge blow-up 16 X 24 NYC photos. The Pho was great, but not as good as my Pho place in Cleveland! Note to everyone- Pho Hoa (or Superior Pho) is the best Vietnamese place ever.

We must have walked up and down the main drag a dozen times, people watching and looking for somewhere without shitty music to get a drink. Naturally, the weekend that I go there are no good gigs coming to Austin. I guess I will just have to go back in the fall when everyone and their mom will be playing! So we opted for hanging out in a green space near the Capitol and watched an insane homeless man who looked like he escaped from a psych ward minutes before (still wearing his hospital scrubs) got on a city bus. After that, we finally settled on a bar, but left within five minutes because there was no AC and the temp was still ridiculous. So we hopped to another bar but it was creepy and empty. Finally there was a cozy spot with a middle-of-the-road alt rock cover band playing and we had a couple of beers and talked about random things. It is crappy to be in a long-distance relationship, but it is so true that the time you do spend together is so much more valuable!

Drained from the day, we drove back to our campsite after that one bar. Yes, we went camping in Texas in July…why?! Because we are warriors! No, but seriously, it was unforgiving and I will never do that again in such punishing heat.

The tent was easily 20 degrees hotter because there was no breeze at night and we had to keep it zipped so critters wouldn’t come in. It was one of the worst nights of sleep in my life, no question. I couldn’t get cool and the sweat wasn’t evaporating off of my skin and all I could think of was that this must be what Malaria is like.

For a first proper camping experience (you heard that correctly) I had a great time. There is no one better to go with than Jamie, who has been doing it since she was in the womb practically. I learned from the master! I eventually drifted into a light sleep and woke up the next morning to those perfect skies that described on the trip down here. I also couldn’t stop taking photos of the wild cacti that grew like weeds around the perimeter of the state park. We packed up shop and headed south to San Antonio.

…………………………………………………..

It took about an hour and-a-half to get to San Antonio from Austin. It is decidedly different because it looks more like a colonial Mexican city. It is also surprisingly compact and the Alamo sits in the center of town, unlike in a vast field of nothing as Hollywood would like you to believe. It was crawling with tourists, surprise, surprise.

The river walk was pleasant but looks artificial, even though it is real. We had a late lunch that this ridiculously good Mexican restaurant. It is pretty much as close to authentic as you can get in the States because San Antonio is about three and-a-half hours from the border. Fresh tortillas, tomatillo enchiladas, sweet chips and Tecate beer hit the spot times 800. Being so far south makes me want to visit Mexico more. Mexican culture permeates the city not only in the food but in the people---we saw dozens of cars with Mexican license plates. San Antonio is a winner and I will be back!

21 July 2008, en route back to Cleveland

I don’t understand business travelers. Seeing people fiddle about with Excel spreadsheets and Blackberry’s on board my early morning flight back up north got my gears grinding. Shouldn’t they have prepared for whatever they needed to do prior to their flight?

To the uptight dude sitting diagonally from me:

Honestly, is it that difficult for you to relax for TWO FREAKING HOURS? I don’t care what you do for a living, but no one is *that* busy. If you aren’t prepared for your presentation, client meeting or what have you by the time that you are mid air to your destination, don’t you think that your chances of being prepared when you land and arrive at your destination are SLIM-TO-NONE?! Read a book that you have been itching to read for a while or catch up on sleep for godsake!

Probably My Son Tune

After 10 years of recording and playing gigs, I am finally signed to a record label (albeit small!) Well, kind of...

The song "Worth Every While" will appear on the upcoming Series Two Records compilation. It is based out of Omaha, NB and the guy who puts out the records/ compilations also does booking for bands worldwide, so hopefully some doors will open. I am cautiously optimistic.

Other bands on this comp. are from Croatia, Germany, Canada, Denmark, New Zealand, Indonesia, Japan, Norway, Finland, US, Mexico, etc. It should be interesting to see where this goes!

The mornings are always young

I just finished reading Independent People by Halldor Laxness. Check it out if you dig Garcia-Marquez or Faulkner.

That jukebox in the corner blastin' out my favorite song...

...the nights are getting warmer, it won't be long
won't be long 'till summer comes...
now that the boys are here again

I just wanted to add that it is so difficult when I take walks and blast Thin Lizzy on my iPod because I really want to pump my fist in the air and do air guitar, but don't want to be taken for insane. Yep, Phil Lynott has that intense of an effect on me.

I love "Jailbreak" to pieces. In addition (but unrelated), I just heard the greatest New Order compilation ever. It has 7" and 12" alternate versions of every single that they released in their 27 year career. It is simply called "Singles" and has a leaf on the cover. Check it out!

No habitat

I was just thinking the other day about how much I miss record shops. I used to work in a grocery store and I would get tips from old ladies and suburbanites because we had a service where you could pull up to the curb and have your groceries loaded into your car (but that can be an entirely different story). Every week, I would save up all of my tips and go to the record store to peruse the aisles. Since they have been declining steadily in sales around the country, there are fewer places to visit and the joy of the mom and pop record store is rapidly becoming a faded memory.

I think that everyone has their own store. Mine was My Generation on the west side of Cleveland. It closed its doors four years ago after staying in business for two decades. A part of me died. Now I go to Borders and sometimes see other My Generation regulars, thumbing through the new releases, leaving empty handed.

We are like deer without habitat.

It has already been two years?!

A meditation from my book Smash Your T.V. and Have Adventures:

I miss the way that it rains in Reykjavík. In the morning when you wake up, you can barely hear the whispering cadence that the water makes on the window. I hate the way the rain falls elsewhere––droplets the size of my thumb print hit the Earth. Reykjavík is misty––the rain gently embraces your body. I wish that the feeling could last forever. Sometimes if you stop thinking so much, you can hear the wind whistle in time to the shower.

Ride an Effing Bike!

I was thinking about melting down all the cars in the whole world, Making brand new mountain bikes for all the boys and the girls -Jeff Ott

At last I am free. With gas prices hitting all-time highs every day of the week, I have taken a radical step forward by riding my bike at all times except for long hauls and to work because my office is nowhere near a bus line. So I am doing a Morgan Spurlock-esque experiment, tipping my hat to his work in “Supersize Me” and the TV series “30 Days.” Who knows how long it will work out, but I may as well try because gas prices will continue to rise and I love biking. It is such a great way to see your world for what it is really worth.

Today, for instance, I rode to the bank because I needed to deposit a check and some cash. I have been biking to the bank for years because it is ten minutes from where I live, but today made me more cognizant of how impractical it is to drive anywhere in my community. The town where I live is pretty hilly and going down the inclines adds great natural speed, even though the climb is a big laborious.

I am always surprised at how unkind the roads are to pedestrians and cyclists. I shouldn’t be fazed by it, but it is difficult to not be upset when the odds are stacked in favor of motorists. At one cross walk after another, the button for crossing is out of commission and whenever I do have a chance to cross, I barely make it because some moron in an SUV inches toward me like a vampire invading the crosswalk space. I don’t think that I will ever get over things like this because they lack basic levels of respect for well-being.

If more people decided to cycle, then the world would not be as tense. It improves balance and is one of the best things that you can do for yourself if weight loss is your mission. It is such a shame that it is still not taken seriously here as one of the most energy efficient modes of transport. The car has been of major focus to happiness and the fulfillment of aspirations because of conglomerations like GM who instilled the car culture mentality into American minds as early as the 1950s. In reality, they only emit carcinogens into our atmosphere, raise blood pressures, and encourage all things sedentary, leading to the “obesity epidemic” that the American media has a tizzy over.

There is an easy and cost-effective solution: RIDE AN EFFING BIKE! A bike! Two wheels and a seat! I don’t know about you, but I feel so much better, even cleansed, after biking. Whenever I drive, I feel drained and irritable. No matter what, I love my bike, even though it is 12 years old, has a slightly bent front wheel, and makes a squeaking sound that gets on my nerves.