Thursday, May 21, 2009

I grew up in Oregon. I think we all know at this point. Oregon is rainy. Check. This brings out slugs and worms. Gotcha. This, however, does not bring out waterbugs. Strange, I know. I did not encounter a waterbug (what I thought of as a giant mutant cockroach until someone was kind enough to explain the subtleties) until moving to New York. I wouldn't say that I have a fear of them, or a hatred even. It is more that when I look at one I am morbidly fascinated by my own capacity for gut-wrenching disgust. I physically start to seize up like I am going to vomit, and yet I continue to gaze upon the little prehistoric critters. I have a similar reaction to the thought of chewing on a popsicle stick or a bit of an aluminum foil gum wrapper.

This is all just a precursor to the fact that above the urinal in my place of employ, there has been a dead waterbug for at least a year. The little mother walked in the cracks between the ceiling tiles and hit a dead end..... literally. My guess is that it just swung its mad little legs until it died from overexertion. I think a lot about this waterbug, which I have named Wanda. I don't know why, it just seemed right. I have to look at Wanda everytime I use the urinal, not because of any kind of intellectual curiosity or to overcome my disgust, but because I am convinced that one day, as the decomposition process proceeds, Wanda will fall on the head of some poor office sucker and that person will wet themselves. Well, that sucker is NOT going to be me. I drink a lot of water at work, so I see Wanda about 5 times a day and have started identifying with her a little. I mean, sometimes you're just going along all fine in one direction and everything is peaches and ice cream cones and The Carpenters on the radio and POW, dead end. I mean, if you're lucky, you can back up, or turnaround, but what happens when you get in that metaphysical ceiling tile joint? Absolutely scares the bejeezus out of me.

Recently, upon returning to work from tour, I noticed that there is now a second waterbug nestled up snug behind Wanda, also dead. I have named him Bill. I am now thinking a lot about Bill and how he didn't learn from the example immediately set out before him. This is a new level of anxiety for me. Good times. Wow. I have a lot of time on my hands at work.

Three gigs coming up with a load of musicians known for their inability to be pigeonholed and actively avoiding dead ends.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday
(if you try and imagine that in the voice of Al Roker, it is mildly funny, but only it, don't do it, I don't care, it really depends on how bored you are)

6 pm
Magical Listening Hour
Steve Swell
Louie Belogenis
Michael Attias
Nate Wooley
Downtown Music Gallery
13 Monroe Street

We're doing an early show at DMG, who are now fully underway with the Sunday shows again! Come in, buy a million records, maybe pick up a copy of Crackleknob!!!
then, I will take a train, plane, car, rickshaw, tricycle and megalodon with a saddle to quickly quickly quickly get to:

8 pm
CRACKLEKNOB CD RELEASE PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mary Halvorson
Reuben Radding
Nate Wooley
Issue Project Room
232 3rd Street

This is one of my favorite groups and two of my favorite people who happen to be amazing musicians in the world. Crackleknob was released on HatHut Records and is being favorably reviewed by the media machine, so come see us play, give us hugs and let's drink! The next day is a holiday!

please note that both of these gigs are on Sunday. If you come to both, I will give you a handshake, manhug and say something really positive to you (you gotta love that deal)

Take a day off, you deserve it.

8 pm
Nate Wooley Quintet Premiere
Matt Moran
Josh Sinton
John Hebert
Harris Eisenstadt
The Stone
2nd Street and Avenue C

This is a new group that I'm trying out. Wrote some new music. Will try playing something different on the trumpet. Let's see how it goes!

Here's hoping that we all scurry on the floor in the sun this summer and don't find ourselves in a ceiling joint with no escape in sight!


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