I sure wish I was going to Cleveland next weekend. Not because my former classmates will be celebrating a 20th high school reunion. (Thanks to the magic of Facebook, I feel more than up to speed with anyone I’d care to be…up to speed…with.  Ahem.) No, the reason it’d be cool to be near the North Coast next Saturday 8/1 is because, by sheer coincidence, the Jehova Waitresses are ALSO reuniting that night at the Grog Shop.

Back when Rotary Ten was just graduating from talent shows and getting “real” gigs “in the city,” our favorite band to play with was the Jehovas. (Or the Waitresses. We called ‘em both.) If memory serves, Linda and Kevin Roy moved to Cleveland from New Jersey, to form a new band and to see what would happen. Between us, the Walk Ins and the Waynes, a semi-scene coalesced — more of a shared attitude than a shared sound. Non-chest-thumping rock had a hard go of it in early-90′s Cleveland. (Like Christian Slater said in Heathers, “This is Ohio. If you don’t have a beer in your hand, you might as well be wearing a dress.”) So even though they had a violin and Rickenbackers, and we had a Moog and actually liked Nine Inch Nails, our shared comparative bookishness made us allies.

This was the first musical “scene” I’d ever been a part of. What a total kick, to be barely out of high school and hanging around with all these serious songwriters. They were rock stars to me — only when I met them, they were all exceedingly nice. One particularly memorable night we played a multi-band benefit at the Cleveland Playhouse, and the Jehova Waitresses actually had Scott and I guest with them on their rendition of the Beatles’ “Golden Slumbers / Carry That Weight.”

The Jehova Waitresses went through a couple lineup changes, and for a few years they recruited the crazy-talented songwriter Alan Grandy (previously of Terrible Parade, now of Sputnik) on bass guitar. After college, we moved to Ithaca, then Raleigh, and I sort of lost track of what they’d been up to, how they’d eventually moved back East. Just a few months ago I was wandering through Amazon, and I dug up a used copy of a CD they’d recorded long after we’d left town. Less than a month later, Linda messaged me (again, the magic of FB), saying they were returning to the scene of the crime.

So I must say. If you’re in Cleveland August 1st, head on over to the east side and check out some fine multi-harmony folk-rock. And if you think of it, yell out “Opportunity” for me.

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The thing looks absurd on my desk, but maybe that’s because it’s got my 2004 iBook flanked to the left, while I try to keep track of what needs moving over, and figure out how. Many questions remain, but what I’m sure of is what I’m most psyched about: that everything on it, including my iTunes library, Garageband files, and AIF’s for burning Zapruder Point CDs, will fit EASILY, and it will ALL back up onto a single external drive.

Even before I got the iBook, I knew I’d have to play storage games, knowing my music would never fit on the 40 (really 30) GBs. Lately it was getting even more headachey (!!!), with me offloading some musical stuff onto thumb drives, etc. What a relief to say goodbye to all of that, even if my dreams of wireless keyboards and mice are deferred. (Hey: If “settling” for a slightly less shiny-and-new computer is how the economic crisis trickles down to me…then I have a lot to be thankful for.)

In other news, while I was driving around Cleveland, I borrowed a more-80′s-than-70′s John Denver mix I’d made for Mom about a year ago. I was floored not just by how many words I still remembered, but by how perfectly within my range all the vocal lines fit. Singing “Some Days are Diamonds” at the top of my lungs while cruising 480 was a blast.

Now that I write that, it occurs to me that whenever I put on John Denver at home, I can’t resist singing either. Makes sense, even if it’s not the coolest thing to admit to. I was raised on this stuff. Aww yeah:

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