Walking Me Home

*photo by Paul Janovitz

Friends are always asking me how I can stay out so late every night, because I have not asked myself, I always say something to the effect of, "I don't know."

Maybe part of it is that I believe that the second set is always better... and because the last song will be the part that comes to me in my dreams at night, and the moment of a night that lives among my nostalgic sentiments.

A few weeks ago I went to Toad on a Monday night. This has been part of my life for only a few years, where some people started the tradition fifteen years ago. But on this night, I had been there for many hours and was just exhausted- tearfully so. I walked out at the set break around midnight, and began my usual walk from Porter Square to Davis. I got halfway up Orchard Street, and without hesitation, I turned around and quickly walked back to Toad. The band was just finding their way back to the tiny stage, and I settled in again as if I had never left.

This is just one example of a time where I have started home and then returned to the music.

Last night I walked home from Toad around 2am with a couple of friends who lived near me. I felt calm and aware that I would be doing this particular walk from a Monday night Tim Gearan show, for the last time. As I walked the last stretch alone, all the memories flooded back to me. Snow storm nights, and rainy nights like last night- A heart full of love for Tim's songs, and a pure adrenaline rush from experiencing his band.

There is something invigorating about that walk. I am not a lonely woman walking home from a bar in the middle of the night on a Monday. I am someone who LIVES. I take it all in- the feeling is unmatchable, and irreplaceable. Along the way home at night, the streets are pretty quiet, and all the places where I watch people scramble from in the daylight are left unmoving and in waiting. In that quiet the horns from the Tim Gearan Band stretch out of the dark, the rain beats in time, in the distance the car wheels pass over rough terain, and that is Timmy's voice. The music is always playing, it is always mine.

So it really isn't gone is it... so why are my eyes full of tears?

Monday night, I could never forget you.

You Can Help

If you are a part of the Cambridge or Somerville music/film community or if you just love it, YOU CAN HELP US BRING THIS DOCUMENTARY TO THE PUBLIC.

In the next weeks I will be putting up footage of the Incredible artists who generously donated their talent to our benefit at Club Passim nearly 2 years ago. If you enjoy these awesome artists and their songs, consider giving to the cause!

You can either make a donation, or give your time and energy. We need talented film editors and much more. Email me at folkfilmproject@gmail.com to find out what you might do.

Donors write and send checks to DER, with our names or the project name in the memo line. (On And Off Of Mass Ave) Make sure you include your address so they can send an acknowledgment letter.

Cynthia Close
Executive Director
Documentary Educational Resources
101 Morse Street
Watertown MA 02472
www.der.org

Thanks again to everyone who attended our event, or who participated as an artist. We love you all and that is why this film should see the light of day.

The first video is of our friend Chris O'brien. Antje Duvekot sings, and Lyle Brewer plays electric guitar.

Meghan Says...

Meghan says that "it is the end of an era around here."

It was a just a few months ago that I wrote how beloved the Tim Gearan Band is to the local fan community, and how there is no place like Monday night at Toad. Will we ever know such an epic residency like this again? (The band will be playing at Atwood's going forward... good news if you were not attached to the Friday night version of Tim's band.)

In the remaining weeks look for me at Toad as I record memories from the regulars that helped to create the energy and magic over the years. This piece will be available to view at the Deli Magazine website, probably at the end of September.

In other News...

This weekend is the incredible Club Passim Campfire Festival in Harvard Square. Tickets are offered at a lower price this year, so if you're around, it's well worth the $10. I will be there all weekend, either at the merch table or enjoying the music.

AND

I have made a little fan page for The Giant Kings on Facebook, please join. Check out this fabulously fun band twice this month at the Lizard Lounge! I have started a poem about them- that's how cool I think they are. (Duke Levine, Kevin Barry, Chris Cote... COME ON) Maybe I will post it here when I am done.

:kiss kiss:
*Check out this blog for more photos by David Griffin.

Mia Dyson: Through This Town

Check out my little article about fab Australian songstress, Mia Dyson over at Not Your Average Folk.

Best Birthday Ever

Nobody could have ever made me believe that I would grow to be this lucky, this... loved. I am certain that I have the greatest family of friends imaginable.

A month ago I envisioned myself going to hear live music on my birthday, not too long after that there was an entire show of my favorite local musicians playing a show at a truly great bar in honor of it.

Susan Scotti is the force behind this highly anticipated (at least by me) event happening on July 28th at Atwood's Tavern in Cambridge. Susan is a diamond.

Here is the place to RSVP and get more info. The music is for everyone, so I hope that you will come.

Peter.

Peter Mulvey tells some of my favorite stories. Many he will sing, and others he will simply state- whatever way he chooses, you will surely laugh, and you will go away with something greatly bizarre or hysterical to tell your friends.

This is my blog, so I am allowed to gush. I LOVE PETER, Peter's songs, deep voice, and way of being. If you see a live Peter Mulvey show, and you have even a little bit of passion in you, he will take your world and turn it upside down. One Mulvey-loving friend has fantasized about him reading the Yellow Pages aloud to her, and another has a tattoo of his likeness on her arm.

Here is a man who impresses to astonishment, yet can't help but promote his artist friends more than he has ever promoted himself. He doesn't stop at that, he will endear you to places you have never seen, and perhaps never will. Peter reveals it all through his own experience, and that experience always seems touched with the magical.

He is no secret in this life, and I have no special news to share.

It is just Peter.

Border Nights

Going to see favorite musicians at Club Passim is one of the best things about living in the Boston area.

Ten years ago, after dinner at the Border Cafe, I walked past the window of the club and saw a stage and a roomful of audience. The restaurant is across the alley from Passim. It did not take me long to find my way through the doors and into the world of live acoustic music. Now I am at the Border a few nights a week after shows (and usually after helping stack chairs). The Border is among my home sweet homes.

I could not begin the count the times where I have taken refuge here on long Campfire festival days... the people I have met, the stories, the insane laughter, and OH, that glorious country music that always reminds me of my childhood home of Tucson, Arizona. If you're gonna play in Texas, you gotta have a fiddle in the band... or any number of Dixie Chicks songs.

This post is a note of affection for my favorite local margarita haven. When I am there, I am with my beloved pals from the world of Passim... I currently recommend the Patron margarita.

Hello Spring

I have been looking at everything around me in great detail lately. I imagine that is partly because I carry my camera around with me all the time, and partly because everything is suddenly more lit up, the way spring will.

Last night at Toad, the guy sitting next to me at the bar wanted to know what I was writing about it my notepad. I told him that I was taking notes for an article, and though I had been moments before, at that time I was writing about an old obsession I had with a musician in the room.

He said he had a lot of ideas, and was creative, but that he could not write well. I asked him how he knew that. He looked surprised, but I think I saw something in his eyes, a little bit of untapped talent, perhaps. Everyone's story is worth something, maybe I will get to read his someday.

You say Potato, I say Cayamo

Before Cayamo, if asked to go on a cruise- actually live on a boat for a week, no would be my simple response. Only for the love of Patty Griffin did I jump at the chance to go out to sea, facing the worst of my childhood imaginings.

Some of my male cousins have tattoos of the praying-hands of Jesus, or rose covered crucifixes- I have a little kite tattoo on the back of my neck. The kite represents a song of Patty's, from her record, Impossible Dream. (My grandma loved the Virgin Mary, my mom loved Elvis- like them, I am lovingly devout.)

Cayamo is an event put on by Sixthman. I like what it says on their website about their goal, Our mission is to connect passionate music lovers with the artists and bands they love as well as the ones they have yet to discover. Our goal is to break down walls between our artists, fans, and partners to invent unique experiences that cater to our community's infinite affinities.

Lyle Lovett and Shawn Colvin were among other headliners returning to Cayamo after the 2008 debut. Having seen countless killer shows, and having visited several beautiful beaches last year, I could find no reason not to return to do it again. I was joined by some of music-loving friends, and it did not get old to spend day after day watching great musicians perform their songs. (and getting to order every single desert off the dinner menu every night)

I did not discover any new artists, but I did get to see Darrell Scott for the first time. I had heard good things, and I knew I was very late to the table when it came to hearing his work. From what I understand, Darrell was a choice of Buddy Miller's for Cayamo- though Buddy himself did not make it on the boat due to a recent medical setback. I only heard a few songs from Scott in-between attending other shows going on at the same time, but I am definitely going to try to see him when he gets back to the Boston area again. (also, if we get Buddy and Darrell on Cayamo 2010, that would be grand.)

It seems among my companions, Kathleen Edwards was a favorite. I am a fan from years back, but getting to see her do 3 shows in a week, is still a thrill. It may just be how I am when I like something, but I like her songs so much, that every time she plays, it is like hearing her for the first time. I imagine that even very talented artists can find it difficult to set themselves apart from their contemporaries, a girl with a guitar is not a rare creature. She has a distinctive voice, and to-the-point lyrics. Kathleen is the best at rocking out, while still getting hold of you in an intimate way. Yeah, special. When we heard that Kathleen was coming on Cayamo, I asked my friend Gilly, what are they going to do next, give us all a million dollars?

Probably the best thing about a vacation like this, is seeing how many people there are who listen to songwriters, and not just pop music icons. The kind of fans who clap for banjo solos, who listen intently to the quietest songs. Fans who know the release dates of a dozen new albums- and who read all the liner notes. We stand together in lines as if there were a new Star Wars movie coming out. The wait is part of the song.

Barns and Pastures

As if the individual players in these musical collaborations were not cool enough, you can also marvel at the creativity that goes into what I have heard from them lately. I like Barn Star and Pastures of Plenty.

As I have said before, Zack Hickman is a master at bringing new sounds to old ones, and using the brilliance that already exists here among us in the Boston music scene, to do it.

Put Mark Erelli on stage in a suit, and immediately start fanning yourself- the man's voice alone, could make a proud man cry. If you get a chance to see Mark and Zack together, I think, DO. (not difficult these days, since Zack played on and produced Mark's latest record, the two have played together frequently.) I am a fan of the two men, and I hope for another chance to see them with the rest of this incarnation of Barn Star, Taylor Armerding and Charlie Rose, soon.

The show was at Toad, the house was full, and all of it embodied what I cherish about local music- seeing the musician and fan community rally for the love of song.

Alastair Moock has been putting his Pastures hootenanny together for nearly ten years. This time the gig was at Club Passim. (and on the night before the folk venue started serving wine and beer for the first time in fifty years! This alone makes for a memorable night.)

The audience had the pleasure of hearing and seeing Sarah Borges, Sean Staples, Laura Cortese, Nic Gareiss, Michael Dinallo and Paul Kochanski in action- with Pastures, the lineup is always this good. Moock's site reads, "the list of guests over the years reads like a who's who of New England folk and roots musicians." Some past players include Lori McKenna, Kris Delmhorst, Meg Hutchinson, and Tim Gearan... *swoons*

I am going to talk about Sean Staples, since that is what I tend to do... in general. Staples is, of course, "a prominent member of the Boston area roots music scene," as it says in his bio on the Session Americana website, but alongside prominent, should be beloved. (and not just to me, though I am likely near the top of the list of his biggest fans.) It is not just his smooth, lonesome sounding voice, or his killer mandolin solos, but the man has a presence that is sweetly missed when not among the players at his regular gigs.

At the Pastures show, Sean did a song that he heard a line cook do in Ireland. I want to thank Alastair for making it possible to hear it, and for giving me a sweet peck on the cheek, without even knowing how much I love to be kissed hello.

Bon Voyage, Darling

Our much adored friend Darlington has chased a dream to London, England. We miss her everyday, and await a joyous reunion.

I met D at Club Passim, where she was working when Cindy Howes and I drank too much Charles Shaw white wine at the Passim Christmas auction. But Ah, that Darlington she is a lovely sight to behold. (sober or not)

This video was captured at my apartment in Somerville, in Rose's little office. Friends gathered to say goodbye to Darlington... while she apparently had not a clue that this montage was being created in her honor.

She wore a smashing outfit that consisted of a delicate bit of lingerie with coordinating accessories.

xoxo

You Had To Be There

I have missed maybe two nights of Session Americana's ongoing Lizard Lounge residency, in the last couple of years.

SA is: Billy Beard on drums, Jon Bistline on (mostly) bass, Jim Fitting on harmonica, Sean Staples on (mostly) mandolin, Ry Cavanaugh on (mostly) guitar, and Dinty Child on (mostly) any old thing. They all sing. (loyal, adoring shout-out to former bass player, Kimon Kirk.)

The band is described on their website as, "a suitcase drum kit, an old electric bass, a bunch of acoustic instruments, a field organ: this format feels very theatrical and though the musicians face each other, the audience feels drawn into the circle by the warmth, joy and camaraderie that emanate outwards by the all-star cast of characters seated around the table."

If only these words painted the scene in the slightest- if only mine could. That is how you feel when you come the Lizard on a Tuesday night for the first time, when you go to tell someone about the show, but there is no way of telling. That is why, with Session Americana, you had to be there.

There are musical fiascos, inappropriate inside jokes, curious covers, and more beer replenishment than you will ever see on one little table, ever. You can do anything you want, just don't talk/laugh loudly during the quiet songs. (if you are anywhere close to me, don't make noise during ANY song) The band (mostly Ry) does not invite it, and will give you a good talking to.

Thankfully they don't play year-round, it helps to keep my record in-tact. The earth pulls me there even when I am sure I am taking time away... the earth, or my heart. The Session players know how to make you sing out joyfully and still break your heart. Brokenhearted is on my list of to-do, this and every Tuesday night in Cambridge.

Session Americana

Anne, Antje, and One Longfellow Square

Even after my throat started aching from the laughter and chatter, I kept right on going. I am now safely home at 2am.

Tonight I went to Portland, Maine for a concert at One Longfellow Square. I joined my friends, Ellen, Anne, Frank, and Antje for a gig. It was a tight fit in Antje's car with just the necessary instruments, though I am grateful that we made the occasion festive by traveling together.

Running an hour late for sound check, we eventually arrived to Portland in great spirits. I felt the beginnings of what might turn into some much needed holiday cheer. The venue was well above average in the singer-songwriter scheme of things, I would say. We pulled up in front to unload, and saw posters from previous bills, along with an impressive blown-up one of Antje. (I was quite happy that Sam Amidon was among the posters, he is a current favorite among us at 952.) The outside trees were lighted turquoise, and decorated with spheres in white. I have a fondness for great lighting, and it only got better once inside the building. It was an active yet calming environment. There were candles lit, unique light fixtures, and flowing drapes throughout the space. It made for some lovely photos.

We set up the merch while the very kind staff at One Longfellow showed us the menus for the Thai restaurant across the street. I enjoyed some scrumptious drunken noodles with shrimp and a beer, as Anne took the stage for her set. She did an awesome (unplanned) version of her song, Underdog, that seemed to delight the already praise-worthy audience. At the intermission a handsome, perhaps too-young man, walked right up to her and said, "I think I am in love with you," in a serious tone that I was slightly unnearved by. You might call it sweet.

Antje's set was very satisfying, it had been a while since I had seen her play. I can earnestly say that I expect her upcoming release to be among the best of 2009. I have a feeling that her choice of Richard Shindell as producer is right-on for the new songs. In-love looks ridiculously good on Antje- and sounds great to the ears.

The audience cleared out and our tired pack lounged about the venue for a while. Frank and Ellen entertained with some amazing/hilarious Jewish-New Yoker accents. When Ellen gets to being silly, that is my favorite time. The ride home became such the drowsy laugh-in, I could not even mind taking the last shift as driver... (I am pretty sure this whole entry is going to need a rewrite!)

ON AND OFF OF MASS AVE: the film

Years ago, while attending Vermont College, I began writing about favorite songwriters. This was my effort to keep focused on school when my heart and free time were so clearly devoted to experiencing local music.

Sitting at Toad one night, I looked around me and I knew there needed to be a preservation of the music community that I was so attached to. So much had already come and gone, and I had missed a lot of it. Still, I drew on the unending magic of the Somerville/Cambridge songwriter scene, I visualized capturing it in a way that documented a little of what had been, and what is living and thriving here today. That is how (along with my roommate, Brian Schwartz) I came to shoot tape after tape of video footage, and why people are still eagerly awaiting this film... we all want to capture our beloved corner of paradise.

It is the way you might fall for anything- one minute you are encountering someone or something, and next you are all swoons and devotion. I got to know local music as it lent itself to me. I connected the dots, then after putting myself in front of every dinky stage around, I discovered a community of artists who generously give their talent to one another, night after night, song after song. Many of them have been playing music together for decades, others are just discovering each other's music. To be able to take part in this as an audience, and often times a friend, is something I will never take for granted.

In fact, most of the recorded music I listen to from day to day is by local musicians- I own a lot of music that is great and that I love, only, nine out of ten times I simply put on the music of people who play around me. I could listen to Timmy Gearan any night of the week, and there's a good chance that if Sean Staples, Jimmy Ryan, or Duke Levine are out playing somewhere, I will want to be there. Same goes for the glorious ladies, whose voices can stop any fool in their tracks. It might be Lori McKenna, playing a half-secret show, or the magnificent Jennifer Kimball, lending back vocals that will make you shake your head in wonder- I am always shaking my head in wonder it seems...

*photo credit, Jon Strymish

Brief

There are usually fresh flowers at our apartment in Somerville, we have Jess to thank for that. Most of the time we leave them in a vase long beyond their moment of glory- like the ones sitting in front of me at this very second... wounded, deep purple, and yellow centered. They continue to die with rugged elegance.

Returning from the grocery store is Brian, (home from Obama-working in Iowa! and now unemployed.) tosses the latest issue of Vanity Fair on the table- it has a delectable photo of Kate Winslet on the cover, and promises that she will "bare all." He rips pieces of sourdough off a fresh loaf of Iggy's, and he shows me, with delighted, raised eyebrows, a brick of Presidente brie cheese...

Brian's bread, Jess's campanella flowers- (and Rose's ukulele songs, though away for the weekend) There has been so much shared food and shared life here, I can hardly ever feel sad.
~

Music = Life

Some time a ago, I caught something- it was bad. Always a music lover, it was inevitable that my condition would either sustain itself or grow uncontrollably. My natural obsessive nature made it very likely that this mostly healthy sickness would be at the center of my current existence.

That is where I find myself today, at 31- In absolute love with local music, out five nights a week, at least, purely devoted. When not out seeing Tim Gearan at Toad, Atwood's, or the Burren... if not at the Lizard Lounge for Session Americana... I am privileged to be seeing my favorite musicians and musician friends play at Club Passim and other venues around town.

Of all the sprouting incarnations in town, I must say my favorite is definitely Sub Rosa, a "secret society of friends and strangers" at the Lizard Lounge. Hosted by the deliciously talented Rose Polenzani, Sub Rosa is an ever-changing musical performance of originals and covers by Rose's community of songwriters and players, with one guest stranger chosen to play a couple of songs and be interviewed by Rose. One of the things I love most about Sub Rosa, is that there is very little, if any, rehearsing. When there is magic, and there often is, it is real and it is unforgettable. (here is a video from youtube, for your enjoyment.)

Speaking of the songwriter community and of musician friends, last night I went to see Chris O'Brien at Atwood's. Chris is currently at work on his second record, after much success surrounding his first full release, Lighthouse, in 2007. Chris was a Finalist on "A Prairie Home Companion" for the People In Their Twenties Talent Contest, and was the 2007 New Artist of the Year on WUMB.

I was really loving Chris last night, though he is already a high-energy performer, he came into himself even more with the cast of players who accompanied him on stage. If you have ever seen Josh Ritter with his band, you will probably remember the mustached bass player, Zack Hickman. This man has unstoppable momentum, and a sharp, elegant style made all his own- and well, he is ridiculously awesome at everything he does. Also playing, newer to Josh's band, guitarist, Austin Nevins. Austin is among my most beloved local players and he's someone you just want to be around for his humor and for his very essence. These two have a dynamic onstage chemistry that makes for an always impressive sound. Charlie Rose played banjo, and Mike Piehl was on drums- you could not go wrong. It was a blast.

At home in Somerville

In the late nineties I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts. A humble brunette from the desert city of Tucson, Arizona... I was traumatized by the brilliantly-preppy reality that were the Harvard University students walking past my Mass Ave window in alien discussion.

In my never-swam-in-the-sea mind, I saw my retail-bound future as tragic, yet somehow I felt hopeful and inspired living among the chic New English... girls with painfully-short nails, and academically-handsome guys who rowed and played chess daily.

I stayed long enough to feel inadequate, but eventually made home in a half dozen other Boston neighborhoods. I found a diverse refuge in Jamaica Plain, a narrow-halled, mothball-smelling paradise in the Fenway, and even lived with a female construction worker in a South End brownstone. She collected toy novelties... ever see a cardboard, life-sized Shirley Temple in a window that overlooked Columbas Avenue? That's the place.

Today I live in what we lovingly call "952." Davis Square, Somerville.