“Singers (and possibly listeners of music too) when they write or perform a song don’t so much bring to the work already formed emotions, ideas, and feelings as much as they use the act of singing as a device that reproduces and dredges them up. The song remakes the emotion — the emotion doesn’t produce the song. Well, the emotion has to have been there at some time in one’s life for there to be something from which to draw. But it seems to me that a creative device — if a work can be considered a device — evokes that passion, melancholy, loneliness, or euphoria but is not itself an expression, an example, a fruit of that passion. Creative work is more accurately a machine that digs down and finds stuff, emotional stuff that will someday be raw material that can be used to produce more stuff, stuff like itself — clay to be available for future use.”
I set up this show as a challenge to myself, since when I attempted to play here a little over a year ago things went very, very poorly. Since then, I’ve come to realize that more shameful than the fact that, IMHO, the Buzz Cafe doesn’t really care about music (and probably shouldn’t ever host it) is how, at my first appearance there, I huffed out without playing a full set. Sure, I had technical difficulties, and I chose to play on Halloween for some reason, and some guy sitting near me told me, sans prompting, that I looked like Kevin Smith (a detail I’d blacked out from my original recall). So there were extenuating circumstances that couldn’t be laid at the feet of the venue, that were just random…erm…happenstances. But then by playing just four songs and splitting, I merely became one more contributing factor to the hellishness, yes? The fact is, if one is going to play places cold, one is going to have Bad Shows. And in those situations, the challenge is to Avoid Piling On To The Fiasco by playing well in spite of it all. True, that kind of evening is nowhere near as fun as Connecting With An Audience…but in the grand scheme of things, it does trump staying home and watching TV, I think.
--Pic by Amy--
The Buzz is insanely convenient to our house, just four blocks west and across the Ike. It’s the requisite indie coffee shop anchoring the “arts district” of Oak Park. The plan was that Amy and Jill, both of them in the middle of a crazy work schedule, would come out to the early show, and afterward (it being a Friday and all), we’d go back to our place and watch scary movies and have this kick-ass soup Amy made the night before.
We rolled up on the Buzz at about 7:00, fifteen minutes before I was meant to play. Aside from the teenage staff, no-one was there. Literally. My name was spelled “Zander Point” on the chalkboard. Years ago, when booking a show over the phone, I’d mistakenly made flyers for my band’s Chicago debut as taking place at “Fireside Bulls.” (It’s “Fireside Bowls.”) But in this day and age, when shows like this one are booked via email… Anyway, no biggie. In fact, I just smiled with every hiccup. I was Challenging Myself. I was Righting The Wrong.
I set up in the corner, had a cup of coffee, and in came Jenn and Ada! In an instant, the crowd was doubled. And then who should I see in the back but Mark! Mark’s the brother of Greg, my former fellow-bandmate. He’s planning on moving to Chicago from Columbus and was moving some stuff up here when he thought he’d catch the show. Hadn’t seen him in years, so we caught up a bit. A couple other tables filled up, and then I started. I did it like this:
She Thinks I Still Care [George Jones] / The Next Thing You Know / Jay / True or Lonely / Where You’ll Find Me Now [Neutral Milk Hotel] / Bury the Lead / Get on With It / Good as Gold / The Ballad of Roy G. Biv / When You Were Young [The Killers] / I Still Miss Someone [Johnny Cash] / Everybody Looks Like Somebody Else / Cure for Insulin / Johnny Without June / West of Western / The Short List / Soda and Sympathy / The Condensation
I did the George Jones a capella. I did the Killers cover faster than I usually do, because folks were talking loudly towards the front of the place, and I wanted to take a break from hearing them. (More on that later.) “Bury the Lead” and “Get on With It” were in-front-of-people premieres. I was emotionally side-swiped by the Neutral Milk Hotel song, as it reminds me of suburbia, and I could see the streetlamps through the windows… As you can see, there was a painting of Rush Limbaugh looming over me the whole time, which was pretty surreal. Before the last song, the staff turned on the house music, which we (me, Amy, Jill, Jenn, Ada, Mark) took to mean they were ready for me to stop. But then they turned it off again. Very confusing.
There were a fair number of people towards the front, hiding from our happy little group in the back and chatting, chatting. Like other coffee shops I’ve played before, of course. Still, I totally soldiered on, and in my head I was letting them go: So this is the kind of place where people talk, okay, not their fault, don’t have to play here again after this, and their kids are actually kinda cute, so what the hell, just sing well anyway and keep the grudge off your face, okay, alright… I did a pretty good job of looking at people, which is something I’ve been training myself to do. It helps, actually. If you don’t do that, the performer / audience divide sort of yawns. I’m writing this off the top of my head, but it’s kind of like…you can’t “retreat within yourself” without the audience’s permission. I mean, if you want to get that intense, you can’t just barge in and start doing it — you have to wait until they “say” it’s okay… So looking at people when I feel like I’m getting too self-serious (or whatever) is a way of saying, “Hey, can we start over?” Hmm. That theory might need to cook a little longer. Anyway, looking at people when you play: It’s A Kick!
All in all, a good set. Hardly any mistakes. And hey — Jenn can’t take Ada to bars, obviously (she’s 4), so it’s good to play these TYPES of venues, right? Keep it on the sunny side. It was good to play for them and Mark and Amy and Jill. Yes! I came, I conquered, and some friends (and strangers, one hopes) got to enjoy themselves.
And yes, we went home, ate soup, and watched a zombie movie.
This was part of Raleigh’s “First Friday,” where they open up all the art galleries in town and have special events — music, food, drinks, all that good stuff. I “opened” for my brother Scott, a.k.a. The Monologue Bombs, who’s played this venue a few times before. We were surprised, then, to find that we were not playing inside the space, but outside under the stars. It was pretty sweet.
They had a taco truck set up, and we played sort of kitty-corner to it, facing the Boylan Street Bridge. You’ll have to trust me that the view was pretty great, though you can get a sense of it from the video above. I was extra-jazzed because the gallery is pretty much directly across the street from the first apartment I had in Raleigh, some 15 years ago. Boylan Heights is a really pretty neighborhood, with big old houses all on a slight hill. I had time to drive around there earlier.
Anyway, Scott and I checked the mics and spent a few minutes catching up with folks, pretty much all of whom I hadn’t seen since I’d been in town a year before. Soon enough it was time to start. I did it like this:
Your Silver Man’s Retired / The Next Thing You Know / Jay / Good as Gold / The Ballad of Roy G. Biv / The Oldies Station / Soda and Sympathy / West of Western / Johnny Without June / Capital Blvd.
Scott sang the first one with me, as well as “Johnny,” plus he whipped out the accordion for “Capital Blvd.” I intentionally bookended the set with old-school Raleigh jams from The Limitations of the Source Tape — you know, for the homies. “Capital” was actually Scott’s idea, and I was crazy-wary about it. It has some lyrics in it that I’m none too proud of, a decade-plus from writing it. But you know what? It actually came together really beautifully. Scott’s accordion chords swelled nicely with the guitar, and his harmonies held it together. It’s kind of the first country song I ever wrote, and if I think of it in those strictly-structural terms, it’s a pretty sturdy thing, if I do say so myself. Like with some other old songs I’ve done, I can sort of pretend it’s a cover, if that makes sense…
The other thing of note during my set is that about three songs in, the Raleigh chapter of Critical Mass showed up, doubling the size of the crowd in an instant. Made me feel at home.
Scott did his usual thing for his set, swapping guitar and piano and accordion. He did an especially lovely cover of Depeche Mode’s “But Not Tonight.” Towards the end of his set, I came up to play and sing on his “Dickinson Avenue” and “Floaters and Empties.” It’s the first time I ever played guitar with him and felt like I could keep up! It was crazy fun, and afterwards, we went out with some old friends and had a mini-pub-crawl. For no reason at all, we spent much of the evening discussing — and adding several verses to — one of the silliest songs ever recorded. Had a wonderful time. Peace, Raleigh! See you next time!
First things first: This wasn’t a Zapruder Point show at all. I was merely sitting in with Goner for the last three songs of their set on a Thursday night at Irish Pub Tir Na Nog. Still, I learned a lot just dipping a toe into a “proper rock” milieu…
I got into town the night before, and I attended Goner practice. Their practice space is mostly occupied by heavy metal acts, as half of the building doubles as a metal club by night. There was a poster for an upcoming Three Inches of Blood show that was particularly creepy. I stared at that thing while Goner ran through their “normal” set, getting well-spooked. We ran through the trio of songs I’d play and sing on — my own “The Next Thing You Know,” their “The Winter Pageant,” and a cover of Billy Bragg’s “Accident Waiting to Happen,” prepared special for the birthday of the Bragg-fan pub owner, which fell on the night of the gig.
I’d been practicing “Accident” alone for weeks, feeling like I was “strangling” its lone bar chord (a B-Minor). In my own music, with few exceptions, if I’m not playing just the lowest two strings, I’m usually just playing “cowboy chords.” I think these are also called “open chords,” but I’m not sure. Either way, they don’t require you to “bar” the whole fret with your first finger. Anyway, when I did so for the B-Minor in “Accident,” it sounded out of tune, and I attributed it to me being a sucky guitar player, who wasn’t accustomed to “the bar.”
Well, the cruddy-sounding quality cropped up during the Goner practice, and Scott immediately suggested it was my cheap-ass GUITAR causing the problem, not me. They handed me a Fender Stratocaster that belonged to one of the bands sharing the practice space…and it was amazing. Playing the B-Minor was easy AND it sounded just fine. Not strangled, not out of tune. This is one of those “no duh” moments greater musicians might’ve had before my ripe old age…but better late than never. To Larry and Aselin and all the sane, reasonable fellow musicians who have begged me to cut the $150 guitar nonsense…I hear you, finally. I will invest in a “proper” guitar and relegate my current Les Paul knockoff to “strictly two-string” status…
As for the show itself, well. I maintained my policy of not drinking beforehand, and I must say that I like that policy the more I employ it. Thing is, you’re really going to feel nervous either way, so why add fogginess into the mix? I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t catch the name of the first band, but they were hella catchy, kinda power-pop, proper bass lines and sweet singing. Goner brought it in the usual fashion they do, full-force rocking. Especially enjoyable was a reworking of a song of theirs called “Disappearing Sparks.” The harder they rocked, the more I feared my presence would spoil the soup. Did I mention how disorienting it is to check your instruments in a proper rock club? With the sound guy blasting whatever CD he has, and a (small, but big for me) crowd jostling a matter of inches from your tuning pedal? A tuning pedal whose battery decided to die right then and there? Whew…
Well, for all that, it went off well. I still blanked on some of the chords for “Accident,” which prompted me to promise myself a second musicianly promise: ALWAYS use chord cheat-sheets, if you’re doing a newish song. Afterward, I met some drunk dudes, of course. I’m just not used to rock shows, I must say. I enjoyed a Guinness, I talked with the fellas, and I got to know Katrina, head of Superfan Records (The Monologue Bombs, Starmount), who was as energetic, cool and funny as her label name would suggest.
We loaded and unloaded, laughing like in my old rock-band days. I went home with Scott, and we were asleep with a quickness. You can still give people the business and get a decent, non-passing-out night’s sleep, and Goner is proof positive of that. Thanks guys!
