What You Lean On

And so, follow me low/ You are what you lean on. --Trey Anastasio

I've been waking up in the mornings with T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alred Prufrock" in my head like a song, the words streaming like lyrics monotonously read in the voice I've fabricated for Eliot, having accidentally memorized the lines from my old Norton anthology. And indeed there will be time/ To wonder Do I dare? And do I dare? floating sleepily through my own vacant expression as I straighten my unruly brown hair. It's abundantly clear to me that I am not ready to face this day. The murky post-Thanksgiving semi-Seasonal depression has set in, the way it does every year for me and nearly everyone else at this latitude. The warm, sleepy sense of nostalgia faded with the cooking-smells from the corn-yellow kitchens of Michigan and we're left with nothing but the sullen pressure of The Holidays. I grow old, I grow old...

Last weekend, after the last of the leftovers were wrapped I had long since had my fill of my family's signature Thanksgiving dish (read: double Kahlua and Coffee), I headed West to Chicago to catch two nights of my favorite band, Umphrey's McGee. The epic two-night run loosely replaced a New Years tradition, which, this year, is being held in St. Louis. While I love my boys more than life, the trek to ol' St. Louie is a long one and I, alas, will not make it-- not to mention Umphrey's in Chicago is always must-see anyway, so this weekend was a no-brainer. Meeting up with fellow Umphreak Steph, who I happened to meet in the bathroom at this show, I hit I94 running, and we rocked into the Central Time Zone at about seven on Friday, ready to rage. And rage we did, hitting the run like a 2-woman storm of musical bliss and nerdery. From classic Umphrey's staples to soaring jams backed by the Chicago Mass Choir, the two nights of music left stars in my eyes and I can still feel the resounding amazement in my soul...

Still, as I sped back toward home on Sunday morning, wolfing down my requisite hangover Sausage McMuffin, the warm, fuzzy memories of the shows faded with every mile past the Windy City. The memories echoing through my head from the weekend-- the smooth bump of "Booth Love," the sought-after ecstasy of "All in Time's" climactic end, and the kaleidoscopic swirl of the stagelights melted into the horizon of the putty-gray Indiana turnpike, and it was increasingly hard to deny that we were truly headed back to real life.

So, increasingly clear to me was something I hadn't bothered to tell Stephanie, or anyone else, all weekend: on the following day was my first appointment with a therapist. Having stubbornly fought therapy my whole life, I had decided it was time to reckon with some issues I had noticed lurking from my dad's passing when I was a child. The only thing stronger than my stubbornness to talk to anyone about what had been on my mind for years was my staunch vow of secrecy I had taken towards the whole thing; I lived under a strong facade I had created over the years to convince everyone that I had somehow escaped the pain altogether (There will be time, there will be time/ To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet.). I was determined to have triumphed over my dad's death, and the rest of my past, without a single scar; like the Blues Brothers in that scene where they survive Carrie Fischer's flamethrower, standing up and merely brushing the dust from the wreckage off of their shoulders.

But the truth is, I didn't. And I've spent every year since filling the void created by my father's absence with everything I could find that brought me the smallest amount of happiness or joy. Most of all: music. I'm coming to the strange conclusion that maybe every song I've ever liked, every band I've ever loved, was-- at least in part-- replacing a small part of what I lost when I lost my dad. Maybe that relief I felt from that soothing shelter of the most amazing pieces of music was a replacement of those times I wasn't able to curl up in my dad's lap as a little girl, and let him tell me everything would be ok. Maybe those gentle words of wisdom from my favorite rock stars and poets replaced the lessons I knew I should have learned from my father.

I guess that's what I'm trying to reconcile. And I guess getting a little older, and a little wiser (ideally) is going to help me sort out all of this... because I guess sixteen years isn't long enough to reconcile the excruciating pain of losing someone you love. Regardless, I'm back in the real world (post-therapy sesh, and by the way, it went great!) and the view from here isn't so bad.

Hope is an amazing thing.


There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Fall '10. In a word: Crunchy.

...and I'm not talking about the leaves.

Deja vu? Yes-- that was (kind of) the title of my column in West Michigan NOISE! this month; and though I fear being redundant, I'm going to do a slight follow-up to that...

but only because I'm SO excited about the jam scene right now. Not just in town, but everywhere. It seems like the entire national scene, maybe even the world, is becoming obsessed with jam bands-- especially electro-jam (and straight up (loop/sample-based) electronica-- commonly known as "techno"-- as well), dubstep, and house music. And the bands dominating the movement-- EOTO, Umphrey's McGee, Bassnectar, Pretty Lights, Rebelution etc-- are gracing West Michigan stages this fall.

Umphrey's is rocking out Kzoo State Theatre TONIGHT (10/22) and I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED. The Pontiffs Maximus of jam, these guys bring the heat to any venue they play and bring mind-blowing, face-melting, (insert-really-good-rock-show-platitude-here) sets every time. I pride myself on knowing a thing or two about a good live show (no ego-- I just care), and these guys are it. *It. The next generation of movements spurred by The Grateful Dead, Allman Brothers, Gov't Mule, Widespread Panic, etc, we might just be witnessing history in the making with Umph's. Move over, WP, there are some new Boys in town.

State Theatre is not known for its rock-shows. It often favors more mellow acts (I've caught Ryan Adams and the incomparable Merle Haggard there before); perhaps because of the size, the layout, the classy decor, or any number of variables....... however, head to GR and you have a plethora of rowdier venues that were built to rock. Example: the Intersection. Housing bands of every persuasion, this venue is known for packing fans in to the seams and turning up the volume into one sweaty jam fest. And this fall, the Intersection is bringing us the bands to quench our thirst for electro-jam and dubstep: already home to acts like SuperDre, it's bringing in Rebelution tomorrow (10/23), dubstep legend Bassnectar the following week (10/29) and one of my top 5 favorite live acts of all time: EOTO!!!!!!!!! (on 11/07).

So check it out. And like I always say: don't forget your dancin' shoes.

"How I Spent My Summer Vacation"

     Last night I experienced the moment that I experience for one moment every year, and spend the rest of the year thinking about. I was driving and although it was only about 8 pm, and the sun was still shining, I felt just the slightest chill as the balmy wind blew over the skin on my arms. Right then, a gust of wind from the west sent a flurry of leaves tumbling across Westnedge in front of me, and it was undeniable: summer is on its way out.
    To be fair, it's barely halfway through August and I hope this doesn't inspire that creepy, panicky feeling of impending Winter, but it's happening all around us. Summer's almost over. And, like every year since elementary school when I would make ambitious lists of things I wanted to do or accomplish over the summer (go camping. draw a lot. have a garage sale. save $50. Wait, these are still my summer goals.) I find myself evaluating what I really did and really accomplished this summer.
     Fortunately-- or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it-- for me, I was unemployed for most of the summer (which you might have read on my Myspace blog). While this severely limited my possibilities due to financial constraints and the enormous amount of time and energy I put into finding a job (which I luckily found... at the beginning of August.) the freedom I experienced was enormously transformative in a number of ways: for one, the gift of spontaneity. And this was valuable in one major way: I went to a LOT of shows, many of which were unbelievably last-minute and, some might say, poorly planned. But that's how I like to roll.
     So, this year, the question I ask myself as I feel the Chill descend over Kalamazoo is this: was it really worth it? Sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the most beautiful days we see in Michigan? Depleting my savings, my brain cells and every ounce of my bodily energy to travel across the Midwest-- across the country, in some cases-- to go to shows? Splitting my commitment-less days both writing, and agonizing about how much writing I wasn't doing? The highs and lows, all the luck and misadventures: was it really worth it?!
     In a word: yes.
     Some highlights:

-Wakarusa Music Festival. The Festie that started it all (this summer, anyway). If you've been reading my MySpace blog, you'll know that Waka was the (in?)direct cause of my unemployment this summer (that and a mega-bitch named Pattie; yes, with an "ie"). And if you've talked to me for more than ten minutes this summer, you've probably heard all about it.
     Waka. I'm just now realizing I have not written about it at all. I think it was just too enormous an experience for me to even try to articulate. I'm going to take a deep breath and do my best to pocket-size it for you:
     My roommate Nick and my good friends Alex and Rachel crammed in my Vibe with a weekend's worth of supplies and took off for Arkansas one sunny morning in early June. We arrived at Mulberry Mountain nearly 20 hours later, having braved torrential thunderstorms for most of the drive and experienced a plethora of victories and setbacks alike. Setting up camp (the four of us, plus our friend Agata, her twin sis Anna and their buddy Zach, a new friend of ours and, we would find out, the embodiment of the word "party") we had no idea what we were in for: several days of INTENSE Southern summer heat (most of which we beat by escaping the site, driving down the mountain, swimming and napping on the banks of the Mulberry River) and, of course, some truly lifechanging shows.
    The one the comes to mind: STS9. If you are into any electronic music at all, I am sure you've heard of (and probably even like) STS9. On the second night of the festival, STS9 headlined, blowing our minds for several hours from Mainstage. If I don't wrap this up in one sentence, I will be here talking for hours: This show was truly one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.
    The next night at Waka was probably the thing I had anticipated and built up in my mind the most, mainly because My Band, Umphrey's McGee, was playing a night show (they had played the previous night; a daylight set at Mainstage, which was good but not overwhelmingly so). I was "that guy" for the entire drive down and few days leading to this show: talking my poor friends' ears off about how Umphrey's is "the best live show in America;" "the most mindblowing shit you'll ever see;" etc etc etc. Unfortunately, I had become separated from my friends by the time Umphrey's took the stage (due to an enormously long and enormously unpublishable story, or set of stories) and spent the show front and center, literally, with other equally vigilant Umphrey's devotees: new friends who supplied me with water and other refreshments and, though I was in the wake of a partied-out moment, I was able to rally and had the time of my life (I even appear on the concert DVD of that show. Available on UMlive.com.). With the help of my new friends (and, not to mention, The Boys From Chicago) I truly came back to life. And, silly me, I didn't even know I wasn't living yet. Which is why I love-- LOVE-- festies. And Umphrey's.
     But that is really what Wakarusa, as a whole, did: bring me to life. I re-discovered when I was there what it meant to have fun and enjoy life, and how little it truly takes (in the way of material things, sanitary conditions, etc) to thrive and love your life.

-Shows About Town
     The walkability of Kalamazoo in the summer, as opposed to any time of year, is remarkable and lends itself incredibly well to various show-crawls. And yes, I think of them as show-crawls and not bar crawls. Why not go catch bluegrass at Bell's, indie at the Strutt and rock and Papa Pete's And hell, why not a basement show at the end there? And if I was getting REALLY crazy, why not work in a jam sesh of my very own?!
     So that's exactly what I tried to do. And like I say, my funds were limited due to my job status, but we're lucky we live in a city where cover charges are seldom over $5 to begin with, and sometimes you can get in cheap-- or even free-- by showing up late. And while I'm not advocating this, as I believe fervently in supporting local bands and venues, it's not always impossible to slide in without paying a cover. Just sayin'.    

It was my pleasure to catch a variety of Kalamazoo bands this summer; among my favorites:
     --Re-renderings of some of my classic favorites-- namely, the new facade of Ender (they're acoustically delicious!) and Their Teeth Will Be of Lions, with their newly-solo frontwoman Jay Dykehouse.
     --Elm Street Riot. Easily one of my favorite Kalamazoo bands.
     --Kathryn Tapper. This new(er) chick on the block graced the first Kzoo NOISE! showcase at Old Dog; I was truly impressed and entertained.
     --Brandon Mann and the Reprimand. Brandon Mann: He's everywhere you want to be and more. In case you haven't noticed, Kalamazoo NOISE! loves BM&TR, and I am no exception.
     --Small Town Son. Alright, alright. I know I talk all the time about how I don't like country. But seeing them one balmy night at Old Dog, Oberon in hand, out on the patio right at dusk, I actually really enjoyed their good-ol'-boy swag, and their covers that even I knew. Oh, and they have a fiddle player who totally shreds.
     --Speaking of country: Brother Bill. There has been some controversy surrounding my review of Brother Bill's album, "Wild On The Whiskey," due to a then-anonymous commentor's disagreement with, and, I think, misunderstanding of what I was trying to say (which happens in this medium! and is my fault for my colorful, and sometimes irresponsible, word choices). And allow me to set the record straight: I REALLY LIKE IT! I ALWAYS HAVE! So when I caught them at Harvey's one night, I half expected a little tension between me and at least one of the fellas in the band. But luckily for me, their personalities are as easygoing and good-natured as their music, and everyone was really cool to me. It wasn't until later that I realized that in my review, and/or subsequent comment thread, I promised them all Jim Beam shots, and didn't deliver. Awful. If you're reading this, Brothers, next time-- sorry!

-More Umphrey's
     Yes, I am an "Umphreys Fan." This fandom is unlike any I've ever experienced. I feel like I am actually addicted to Umphreys shows. There is truly nothing-- nothing.-- in the world that makes me happier than being at an Umphrey's show: pressed up against the foot of the stage, jamming hard; spaced-out, sober, or anywhere inbetween. There's nothing like having not a single care in the world because your "world" doesn't exist outside of the show. That's what seeing Umphreys is like for me.
    And I know you're probably smirking at the very least right now and might even have a slew of anti-"hippie jam band" thoughts in mind, your hand twitching in reckless anticipation of clicking the "Comment" button and unleashing a diatribe in which Trey, Dave, or-- God forbid-- Jerry, could become casualities at any moment. Or maybe not, because if you don't know I love hippie jam bands, you have no business here.
    Just kidding. But seriously.
    Anyway, Umphrey's. The two shows Umphrey's played at Waka did not satisfy, but only stoked, my desire to go to Umphrey's shows. All. Summer. Since I first saw them last summer at Rothbury, my heart had ached to be at another Umphrey's show. I don't know what it is about their live show, but like I say, there's one main word that comes to mind: addicting. And if you ask anyone who's ever been to an Umphrey's show, they will say the same thing. Not to mention, almost anyone I've ever played Umphreys' music around has asked who they were and if I could burn them some. So anyway. I'm just saying, don't knock it 'til you've heard it. And seen it.
    But, in my observation, Umphrey's is more popular EVERY SUMMER, playing more shows on a wider plane to bigger, and more enthusiastic, audiences. And to be honest, I love it. But to be just as honest: in a selfish way, I kind of wish they were still the Midwest phenomenon that they used to be; I wish they still played Papa Pete's and needed couches to crash on in Kzoo (!). I wish I could walk up to them after shows and ask them if they wanted to hang out and talk and listen to Frank Zappa records on vinyl and drink tea in my living room. But, alas, they are far too cool-- and I am far too uncool-- for that to happen. But I can dream.
     Alas, I caught them twice at Waka; once in Ohio; and once for a VERY crunchy and extremely beautiful double-set at Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids. All were incredible, my favorite of which was the latter. On a hot, windy, gorgeous night, right at sunset, they threw down a truly unstoppable set, including one of my all-time Umphrey's faves, "Gulf Stream" (which, though it's not one they play very often, I called in the requisite drive-up-to-the-show set-prediction game) and a soul-satisfying cover of Toto's "Africa" which still makes me smile when I think about it.

-Land of Nod
    Ah, Land of Nod. If you read my rundown "Going Gonzo in the Land of Nod" on my MySpace (friends only; sorry! friend-request me if you wanna read it and can't.) then you already know everything that happened in those crazy, crazy 5 days I was involved with/ attending the fest.
     Unfortunately, there isn't a whole lot about music mentioned in that piece (I know; what?). It was really more about the experience. Which is really what Nod was to me. The lineup was so-so in the first place (aside from some killer headliners) and one of my most anticipated acts, Boombox (who we caught at Waka) was CANCELED. Bummer.
     However, I got to see not one, but TWO, sets by the incomparable Big Gigantic! The synth/ horn electro act (the brainchild of Dominic Lalli, aka my dream man) blew my mind on the Saturday of the fest, backdropped by the most glorious sunset I have ever seen in my life. If you are into electro at all and don't know Big G, please oh please check him out. It'll be so worth it.
     For me, the highpoint of the music at Nod was noneother than Kool Keith. Another show for which I was determined to be front-and-center (although there were probably only 500 or so people in attendance, so it was all too easy), KK (who moonlighted as his trippier alter-ego, Dr. Octagon) was everything I'd always imagined a Kool Keith show to be like.

So, yes, realistically, the summer is almost over. BUT: as always, there's plenty more to come. From up-and-coming local bands, to some big acts we're anticipating in Kzoo (for one, Ali Baba's Tahini; if you haven't heard of them, please search; I would just tell you but wouldn't that be anti-climacitc?) we are sure to be in the presence of some really amazing music in the coming days and months.

See you out there,
Meg [thevolumejunkie]

Kzoo Reggae and Bob Marley Festiv's Preview

Don't panic; "Festiv's" the plural form of a(n invented) word abbreviated by an apostrophe ("festivities"), NOT a possessive-when-it-should-be-plural form of a word sloppily truncated into an abbreviation (fe-STIVs, not FEST-ivs).

Now that we have that all squared away, it's that time of year again: the Bob Marley "Reggae Legend" Birthday Bash. There's only one way to forget that it is BELOW zero out: sink into the velvety old-school goodness of Kalamazoo's best venue, kick back with a Red Stripe or several and bob along to some steel drums and scratchy, syncopated guitars; skulk in the shadowy back rows of the main floor with your crew, or jam by the speakers where reggae throbs at skull-vibrating volumes. Either way, kick back and just watch and pay homage to everyone's favorite Aquarian rasta. One thing I love about this festival is that it knows no demographic; I've been several times and it's really just a bunch of people who want to chill out and have a good time together, and a reggae show is really conducive to that. No politics, no drama, no race boundaries or dress codes or age limits-- all things that should never be synonymous with live music, but are all too common at shows.
     My mom said one time that all reggae sounds the same. Defiant teenage arguer-for-the-sake-of-arguing that I was, I scraped what I could from the bottom of my humble reggae-knowledge barrel, pointing out nuances of styles and sub-genres like dub, roots, dancehall, ska (but you already know that spiel if you've ever actually hung out with your weed dealer [how IS your glaucoma these days?] or your token bohemian sibling [which in my family... is me]), citing everyone from Burning Spear to Peter Tosh to Wyclef Jean to Matisyahu to the godfather of reggae, ol' Tuff Gong himself. And to be fair to my 17-year-old  incense-burning, corduroy-pants-wearing self, there really is a wide array of reggae sounds, or other Caribbean sounds which are sometimes mistakenly called reggae (like reggaeton).
     However (and life is a series of "howevers") it's kind of true: reggae is definitely a very specific-sounding genre. But maybe that's why you can go to a show and dance with people who look like Jerry Garcia dancing with people who look like Questlove dancing with people like me, and we're all having the time of our lives. Reggae has a magical universality to it which makes it such an amazing, fun, and listenable genre to so many people.
     So... I've said it once and I'll say it a million more times: it's about the music, not the scene. Even if you think it's not your thing, don your best hippie duds (i.e. your worst regular duds)-- and your dancin' shoes-- and get your (slow mo) two-step on.


Well anyway, the lineup of Bob Bash this year is... well, what is always is: Zion Lion's headlining. If you live in Kalamazoo you've probably seen them at Island Fest, Art Hop, Mixer On The Mall (whatever the fuck that is) or any other of Kalamazoo's lame social gatherings that are sadly the highlights of our year as a town. Even if you haven't, I'm certain you've heard of them; if you really haven't heard of them, I'll spare you the suspense: mostly Bob Marley covers, no matter the occasion. And, hey, while I will sure as hell be jammin' along to the obligatory "No Woman, No Cry" cover (which I'm anticipating will be covered by every band who plays tomorrow night; just go with it; your cries of monotony will be drowned by a chorus of inebriated singers-along) I'm kinda hoping ZL will bring it with a crunchy reggae jam sesh (yes, I only say "sesh" now)-- or something-- because, frankly, in the past when I've seen Zion Lion, it's been a little pedestrian. Played-out; sleepwalky; predictable at best. But like I said, it's reggae; it's not going to matter. (If you want a preview, check 'em out here; and no, don't bother with MySpace. Damn the man mon!)
      But what I'm really stoked for is Dread I Sound, an experimental dub reggae DJ from Kalamazoo. Dred I Sound concocts amazing dub remixes-- some with the ambient, spacey trippiness of classic dub reggae, some a little more clubbish/ dance-oriented; some are delightfully both. I've never seen this guy play, so I'm not really sure what he's about or what to expect, but after checking him out, I'm thinking it's going to be a good show.
     There's a third band on the bill, "Indika," but when I searched for them all I found was an Italian dance-indie band ("Istintivo, sporco... cantano i Depeche Mode." FYI, "Depeche Mode" in Italian is Depeche Mode!) and I'm thinking it's not the same band. So we'll see what's up with that. (Although this Indika is kinda good!)

So, in researching for this post I came across exactly one other reggae-oriented act in Kalamazoo: Lake Effect . I'm disappointed to say that Lake Effect is not playing at State Tomorrow because they are the best local band I have heard in awhile; I know I say that from time to time, but I am refreshingly impressed by this band. Singer Terrell Thompson's silky vocals call to mind Umphrey's McGee's Brendan Bayliss, but with more soul and a feel that is even more free and effortless. Lake Effect is a little more island-inspired pop/rock (think G Love, Jack Johnson, the Meters et al) than "reggae," but the soul is there, the flavor is there and I dig it.
     I found them on their ReverbNation page (the best site ever-- make an account and find me!) which, I thought, had better music than what was posted on their MySpace; check out "Reggae 1" and my personal favorite, the funky freefall "Stand Up" (not a DMB cover, as I momentarily feared).

So... I'm thinking we're in for a decent show on Saturday (but Lake Effect, where you guys at?!). And, it would be an injustice not to raise the question: where the fuck are the reggae bands in Kalamazoo?!

See you guys there (and buy a sister a beer [I like Red Stripe]),
-thejunkie