the True Margrit Captain's Log

IRONSONGs, Lunar Eclipses, Viral Spiral

2011-12-26T00:56:00.000-08:00

Debut of IRONSONG!
This comically gloomy artwork was the "promotional" poster for a long-ago gig I shared with the terrifically talented songwriter, Robert Geller. We recently reunited for the very first installment of my new songwriters in the round series: IRONSONG--at the ever welcoming, Dolores Park Cafe.

Also circulating songs with us was Lea Carey Grant who sings like an angelic bird and writes clever, pretty, and often theatrical popsongs. Our songs floated down a meandering stream of consciousness with topics and metaphors like snow, birds, politics, airplanes, and literature catching the currents. At one point, Amy Meyers popped in and we got her "up" on stage ( there's not really a stage at Dolores Park Cafe--but you know what I mean) to play a tune or two. Bonus!

Meanwhile:
In the wee hours of December 11th I blearily noticed the moon looking a bit odd--"hmm," I thought, "when I went to bed it was full, but now it looks like a half moon? What the?" Soon enough I realized the dealio. It was the total lunar eclipse of December 2011! And gorgeous! My inner cavewoman watched it in awe, thinking: "Me like Mother Moon, but tonight she is strange. We must sacrifice a virgin carrot to appease her wrath". It also crossed my mind that 2012 is coming and some predictions of doom have been associated with that date. Fear fire foes famine. Trans fats. Or not if you follow the official Vulcan, Hobbit, or cicada calendar. It's all in the trappings of perspective. Looky here--from over yonder. Yknow.

Kate, Kat, and Me
A few weeks later I returned to Dolores Park Cafe for a more "regular" show with kate kilbane and the cellar doors, and Kat Downs. Damn. Those party people sure can kick some musical ass!

PLUS:
I awoke a few days ago to a posting on our facebook page listing me as one of the finalists for Keyboard Player of The Year on Sunset Island Music--oooh! That makes a pianoplayer's day. And if that weren't enough, an online talent search we undertook to interest the bigwigs at Spectra Records (wherein we needed to get a minimum of 250 fans to listen to our tunes to get to Spectra's review stage) went healthfully viral, giving us over 2,000 listens (and counting) ooh! Thanks y'all!!!

The year ends the year begins.
The days are so short this time of year, that dinnertime is right after breakfast. Soon enough it will be a new blank page on the calendar. Let's raise a full glass to a sweet sweet 2012.

The Thirty Names for 50,000 Words for Snow

2011-11-11T07:56:00.000-08:00

Why does the caged poet sing? What and how she sing? Let me count the ways. The words, names, numbers, slip sneakily through the bars off into the night. Each day dawns with the challenge and charge of having & needing to have more to say. Always more...oh you amusing muse.

In honor of this rampant multiplicity, there's a sub-genre in the True Margrit Catalog--the "number songs". What do I mean? I'll show you! For examples: On our 2010 album,"The Juggler's Progress" we had: "500 Years" and "50,000 Names . On our upcoming album we will feature "The Five Hundred Block of A Thousand Oaks" and the mathematical-metaphor-laden,"Obvious Solutions". Mmm, mathy. And so on, unto eternity, with a mobius strip of songs reeling through a massive, metaphorical, and magnificent player piano.

Now listen!

Long ago, in 1999 we released, "Deceptively True" which included, "The Thirty Words for Snow" -- which was a song in my 1997 rock opera/ song cycle, "Tune Into Radio Brain". So, imagine my surprise to hear that one of my very favorite artistes of all time--the one and only, illustrious, fabulous Kate Bush--has a new album about to drop this very month! Guess what it's called? "50 Words for Snow"!!

Whoa. What are the odds? Is it a case of sympathetic magic--like begets like, so simply writing songs with numbers in the title/lyrics multiplies the chances of meeting your song's doppelganger? If the number is higher will there be more doppelgangers? I'd say that is not a very scientific explanation. But it's all I got at the moment.

Or? As it happens My birthday is July 28th and Kate Bush's is July 30th. My song, "Thirty Words for Snow" was actually debuted in San Francisco on July 31st, 1997, the day after Kate Bush's 39th birthday, and her song, "50 Words for Snow" has 14 characters-- and the letters in my first and last name add up to 14. Which clearly explains everything.

I am the daughter of a scientist, after all. Trust me.

Anyway. In tribute to this numerologically propitious synchronicity, and on the magical date of 11/11/11 (All ones! Nothing is bigger than one!) we offer a special free download "single" called: 50,000 WORDS FOR SNOW and it will entail: TWO SONGS FREE (cuz singles were two songs in olden times--side A + side B = single. Nothing is bigger than a single). Thus, you get: "The Thirty Words for Snow" AND "50,000 Names" for free.

The number for the price is zero.

A zero. It's a circle. It has no beginning, middle, or end. It goes on forever, it is eternal, it never stops. But it never starts. It mysteriously contains the entirety of the ever-expanding cosmos. It holds the great nothingness of the void. It will afford you hours of entertainment. And scare the bejesus out of you. And lead you gently home.

There's so much more to say--but I'm trying to keep it to fifty thousand words or less.

Luckey's Streak

2011-10-31T15:56:00.000-07:00

October 28th
Just a tee-tonsey sliver of pie for breakfast. Holy Mother of Julia Child! That is rich luscious, pumpkiny, and chocolatey--and admittedly, a little fibrous. All in all, a success. There was a pumpkin..and then we went to work and there were pies. If only the music biz were that easy.

As pie.

We hop into vehicles and go south. We meet my brother and nephew Elan for lunch in Portland. Much conversational fun and many noodles are had by all.

We hop into vehicles and go farther south. It rains. We drive. We get to Luckey's Cigar Store Club in Eugene, OR, and heave gear within the club and go out for some dinner. For yes--we are already hungry again. It's mysterious. Digestion.

(Laspe of Time for Dinner)

Back at the club Jimmy Frank (aka James Betzer) opens the show up. He belts and sings like an angel, working through a super duper set of originals --peppered with some cool covers ("Mrs. Brown You've Got a lovely Daughter", for one). Bird Erichsen ( aka Brad Erichsen) gets up and sings, in fact, like a bird with a totally different type of lovely, bluesy, tunes with fancy guitar licks. He includes a cover of "Trouble" by Cat Stevens--hearkening back to the Cat Stevens-filled year we were roommates in the Haight--aw, Brad! Yay!

We pop up and do our True Margrit best to follow such excellent acts. Though a bit fatigued from a week of gigs, crazy hours, and much bacon fat, we plow mightily through tunes from "Seaworthy", "The Juggler's Progress" and our upcoming album. I make another shaky foray with the ukelele on the wee songlet,"Like You". And the new ballad "You Could Be Anything" shows its wry face, too.

At last, we play the final notes of the tour, get the hell offstage, and head out into the moist Oregon night, tired, yes, but it's a good healthy-humming-tired. I can picture how Halloween costumes all across the west coast are being shed, partiers are yawning, and blankets are being situated to warm the slumbers of all the weary. We flow through tree-lined streets of Eugene and on and on, to the crescent Moon, past Mars, to places where sleep makes songs new.

Milady Robot

2011-10-31T13:39:00.000-07:00

A little more about October 26th:
We drive merrily back to Tacoma after the Christo's show (in Salem, Oregon), buzzed from their delicious food, from playing a well-received, fun, and excellent show. To top it all off the staff played Kate Bush after our show (and before, too) and we love her. More about Kate Bush soon...

(photo by Bob Goldstein)

We get back to Tacoma and we all get to sleep pretty promptly. For tomorrow is another gig.

October 27th
We head in two separate cars to Mandolin Cafe as Andrew has an errand to attend to. Guided by Droid's fallible GPS, Gary & I take a route that lands us in sluggish traffic making us a wee bit late--we get to the venue 15 minutes before showtime. Oops! Andrew is almost set up and we whisk about getting our gear and whatnot all together. Somehow, we are actually playing our first song by 6:15 ish...and all is fine. As it happens, this 2nd half of the tour consists of three shows wherein we get to play over an hour. We do enjoy this freedom, and amongst the rock, old and new, I take the time to do my new itsy-bitsy ukelele ditty, "Like You", plus a solo piano tune, "Casseroles and Thunderstorms" (and in this case, on a real baby grand). Nice!

After the set there is much chatting, hugging, and visiting to be done--all manner of dear friends, dear family, and dear colleagues have shown up. My head spins a little at the very heartwarming-ness of it all. AWWWWWWWW, you sweet humans. I loves you ALL.

Though some of us have partaken of the Mandolin Cafe's yummy snacks, we are all still hungry for the imminent snack Andrew is planning to cook when we get back to his house: the fish that dare not speak its name. Yes it's true. He has a massive halibut fillet he is going to bread and fry in bacon fat. Oh mercy.

Gary & I speed off into the night charged with the important task of procuring tartar sauce ingredients. We locate a Safeway, grab the items ( mayo, shallot, fresh dill) and leap back into the car. But where are we? Uh oh, we are lost...but no! We have GPS. Gary turns on the audio option and the directions are issued in that imperious, flat, run-on, computer-generated voice--in this case it is female...ish. When "she" manages to make the phrase: "take-the-ramp-to-the-port-of-Tacoma" mash into one very long word that does not sound like English (it's closer to Elvish spoken by a machine), we dub her: "Milady Robot".

Such diversions notwithstanding, we get home in time for me to whip us some tartar sauce (greek yogurt, mayo, dill, diced shallots, and some homemade dill pickles of Andrew's). The fish is already swimming out of the bacon grease. And into my mouth. Oh my lord. It's good. You'd have to be made of stone to be unmoved by such deliciousness, on such a night. So say we all--even Milady Robot.

Meanwhile.

For a side dish we are eating some tasty sci-fi broccoli that came from Heather & Andrew's Little Eorthe organic veggie box. There are a growing constellation of pumpkins piling up from several weeks' worth of boxes, and we have been discussing all week how to cook them. I look at the clock and say:

"I bet we can cook a pumpkin pie by midnight". It's 10:45 and Andrew high-fives me in the customary ritual acceptance of a culinary challenge. It's on.

We grab the prettiest pumpkin, cut it up, remove its seeds and get it cooking in a REALLY hot oven ( just shy of broiling). Meanwhile we decide that yesterday's brownies must be reconstituted into the crust. We crumble the brownies onto a baking sheet and they go into the very hot oven as well--in this case to crisp up. Gary heroically goes back to the store to get heavy whipping cream. We melt a stick of butter and stir it into the brownie crumbs, then mash them into the bottom of two pie pans. For good measure we poke chocolate chips into the crust: more chocolate = better. We mix up the piping hot pumpkin flesh (once we speedily extricate it from its skin) and spin it up in the mixer with eggs, maple syrup, butter--and that heavy cream Gary brings. And of course we add the requisite pumpkin pies spices--cloves, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon. We pop the two pies in the oven. It's 11:55.
Whoa. The colossal mess we've made is really something to be proud of.

The pies take an hour to bake, and we are getting very punchy...

They come out looking and smelling spectonkular. We are too tired and it's too rich to partake tonight (right before sleeping)--but tomorrow, well, we won't need Milady Robot to navigate our pie-laden forks to our mouths.

The San Francisco Treat

2011-10-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

October 26th
To Salem from Tacoma we zoom. And when we arrive we are delighted by the True Margrit posters plastered all over the front of the venue, Christo's Lounge (+ Pizzeria). On some of the posters we are called the "San Francisco treat". Nice.

We have a good feeling about this gig. And we are right!

Kyle the talented, good-natured, and conscientious sound guy sees to all our audio needs with easygoing aplomb. Lisa and Mike Learn make sure we have drinks, make sure we order food for after the show (the fragrances of baking pizza garlic and love are AMAZING to the nose up in here), and once we play, they listen to every note of every song with delight. Plus the rest of the generous crowd gives back as much love as we put out. Our chests swell up with the pride of taking part in the great tradition of live performance--let it live on. Like it does here at Christo's. Best gig.

The Chicken That Dare Not Speak Its Name

2011-10-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

October 24th
Monday's pork-shoulder
That Andrew roasts slowly for long hours
Then gently stews in chili verde--
Tomatillos, peppers, garlic--
This he lovingly spoons over cheese enchiladas (melted cheese liquid gold)
And it is eaten with joy (and two colorfully contrasting salsas:
spicy tart red cabbage & avocado/citrus/pomegranate)
Followed by ice cream, cookies & action movie

October 25th
Tuesday's free-range organic chickens soaks in buttermilk
All day
Until Andrew dredges the pieces in spice & flour
He fries them in bacon fat
We eat and groan
And yearn for bigger stomachs

ROCKtobering

2011-10-25T12:53:00.000-07:00

Dear readers, here's a recap of what's gone down in October thus far:

Sunday, Oct 9th at YOSHI's San Francisco LOUNGE--ooh
Sonic Zen Records/ Bay Vibes has been running a songwriters unplugged series at Yoshi's for a few years. October is their last month at that venue, so I'm glad I got to play on account of the fancy factor, meeting the nice people involved, and the free sushi.

What was it? Three songwriters trading mini-sets: Lisa-Marie Johnston, Lea Grant, and me in this installment. It's not quite the truly Attention-Deficit-Disorder-friendly format of switching between performers after one song, but mini-sets nonetheless keep the evening rolling along. My voice refused to warm up, but it didn't matter in the end: I plugged away at some brand-new tunes--and dare I say it, it was strangely invigorating being the sloppy, slap-happy, slacker/savant of the evening (and alliterative, too). Lisa-Marie and Lea both sang flawlessly, they have rad tunes, and we had a great supportive attentive group digging it all. There were thrills, chills, and spills of sake. Domo arigato Yoshi's and Bay Vibes.

Saturday, October 15th 2011
Noe Valley Harvest Festival (Church Street & 24th--next to Happy Donuts)
Sunshine!! Yes, sunshine-- though common in California, is notable if you saw us here last year: it was the opposite day last Harvest Fest. Yes, spare a sad emoticon for True Margrit getting deluged by the deluge in 2010. In addition to sunshine, 2011's Noe Vally Harvest fest featured a tall raised stage---ooh.

Kif, the child-prodigy Noe-valley phenom, did a short sparkly set before we played. He' a tough act to follow, and as we took the stage we felt like ancient and gigantic hulks in contrast. However, we soon received love from the horde--for, once we started playing, wildly gyrating 4-year-old fans began kindergarten moshing in front of the stage--most amusing (and distractingly hilarious). We debuted the new song, "Goldstar" incorporated into a medley with "Superhero Drugs" ( among other wholesome treats). During our ballad, "Great Praise, the moshing halted, and at one point I looked down and standing right below me was a wee girl listening intently with eyes narrowed with an intensely pensive mien, as if pondering the existential ramifications of the lyrics. Whoa. We wound up our set with "Comforting the Castaways". Then the dog costume contest took the stage and blew us away...that's show biz.

PS The Noe Valley's Farmer's Market just released a compilation CD (upon which we have a song: "Please Move Your Car"). Proceeds help them keep having an AWESOME famer's market--which is great for everyone.

Thursday October 20th
1st Driving Day for 2011 Autumn Adventure/ The Chicken that Dare Not Speak Its Name Tour
(Bad Road Food (part 1)--Salt Salad and Bloody Chicken
Gary and I managed to leave SF by 8:00 am. And if you aren't impressed you don't know any musicians. That's an early bird in these parts.

We made pretty good time all the way up to Weed, CA where we stopped for Gary to grab some coffee and a scone. We decided to zoom on to Ashland, OR to eat at The Wild Goose--a rare eatery right off the freeway that is not a chain, and is often pretty palatable. We got there in due course and settled down to our lunches. Unfortunately, my smoked salmon cesar was mercilessly salty. It was so wildly overdressed with too many anchovies, smoked fishes, and parmesans combining on too little lettuce (and with the added insult to injury of stale croutons) as to fill me with a rare sodium-fueled indignation. Chalk it up to mis-ordering. I thought, "The next meal will make up for it."

Uh oh. The worst was yet to be visited upon my stomach.

We met up with the infamous Reverend Marc Time (of Sunday Morning Hangover and Eugene Storefront Art Project fame) at the Pioneer Restaurant--which is somewhere between Junction City and Salem--or somewhere. Whatever. Don't go. This truckstop diner has no reason or right to be good--and it isn't! I ordered chicken --the menu said it was "broasted" which I must have misinterpreted, because it was simply fried chicken. The wing tasted pretty good, actually-- although barely deserving of the name fried chicken next to Andrew's diabolically great version of which we fantasize often. After devouring the wing, I took a big bite of the breast--which (though it sounds funny) was sad. Instead of the running of clear juices that signify thoroughly cooked fowl meat, there was blood to be seen. I say: gross. Naturally, there were profuse apologies from the Pioneer staff--and new chicken was whisked to me. Well, it took twenty minutes, but who's counting. Anyway. Marc was amused, because when we ate there another time he witnessed me when I sent back tepid tea (which I believe he thought was diva-ish of me, but bloody chicken is an actual safety issue...Marc). I texted Andrew to warn of my imminent case of salmonella/ botulism but spellcheck changed it to "salmonella/ nihilism". That too.

Friday, October 21st
Tour Kickoff Gig in Olympia at 4th Ave Tavern!
(the redemption of Cambodia via Tacoma)
Before the show we needed to eat something really great to fortify us for the rock and to make up for the previous day's food horrors. Heather & Andrew recommended a Cambodian restaurant near their house called Mitapeap ... ok, I'm not sure how it's pronounced, but luckily this conversation is written so I don't sound so bad... but the point is: if you're in Tacoma you must eat there, it's AMAZING. Great cold spring rolls--so fresh! Evanescent stir-fried catfish, sublime wonton soup. It's no joke.

Replete with deliciousness, off we went to Olympia and 4th Ave Tavern to play our gig. There we heard sets from Lijie and Roxi Copland, and then we burned through a dozen of our tunes, tore down our shit, chatted with peeps, and took off. It was 2:30 am when we got back to Andrew's and we were starving...all over again--crazy! But then, it was 8 hours since dinner, we realized. Heather & I shared the leftover soup from Mitapeap. So good. Lord bless the to-go container and she who takes the time to request it ( Heather). And to all a good night.

Saturday, October 22
Portland's Mississippi Pizza Pub
I must disclose (in the interest of full disclosure) that my very own brother books this venue. But slow down haters, before you cry nepotism on my house, just know that we were booked TWICE on our musical merits alone at this fine establishment before Dan worked there, thus showing we are not recipients of special treatment.

Anyhoo. Andrew sped us down to Portland, pulled up the truck to the venue, and we heaved gear out onto the sidewalk. Dan arrived, chatted with us (but didn't hug because he had a terrible cold), the band in the early spot finished their set & dragged gear out the door, we rustled gear in, set up, and commenced our tunes.
It sounded quite nice. It's a nice venue! During the set I tried to shout-out to both upcoming acts, but I blanked on their names: I called Dream Cannon Dream Weaver and I called Gloom Catcher River Empires ( their old/ alternate name). Dammit! mental weakness aside, we had some extra nice versions--especially of "Comforting the Castaways". The 50 minutes went by in an eyeblink--oops we were supposed to do 45. Well... what's five minutes among bands? We took our gear back out the door and tucked it into the truck for the night. The other bands got up and did their thing, we ate an excellent half pepperoni/ half mushroom pie, we listened, we visited with Dan & my nephew, Elan (aka Might Misc. We visited with Andrew's colleague, songwriter, Eric Stewart, then we headed back to Tacoma. Done and done.

Sunday, October 23
Seattle: EL Corazon
Well, I do not think we have yet found the perfect venue/ bill for True Margrit in Seattle as of yet, but El Corazon was surprisingly fun and had these attributes in its favor: a big loud stage on which to rock with Andrew's full drumkit, a bill with a big loud lineup, it's all ages, and there was an amazingly attentive audience made up of the bands and their fans. And amongst the hard rock acts we got to hear the fantastic Mary Lambert who has an insanely pretty-but-also-raw-versatile voice and strongly realized tunes with layers and ribbons of meaning.

Plus. Something interesting always happens when we play in Seattle--at our first gig in town, we met Heart's drummer, Ben Smith, who was drawn into the bar we were playing when he heard "Opposite Man". Another time, a woman told me she liked the "rigatoni" I played on the piano (not sure--did she mean arpeggio??). And once, we had sausages from a cart at 1:30 am after our gig--that is all kinds of sublime.

On this particular occasion, we were all ever-so famished after the show--dinner had not happened. We drove around in the obligatory rain (rain in Seattle--what?). We found a strip with many restaurants, we chose Pho Cyclo cafe and trooped in. The staff sadly shook their heads at us. And we turned away dejectedly. Perhaps in pity of our tragic demeanor, they changed their collective mind and shepherded us back in.

Oh joy oh soup
Hot curling steam rises
Oh broth so rich
Oh basil so piquant
Beansprout so crunchy
Friend or Pho
After your show
To Cyclo Cafe
Go

A Tale of Two Pianos

2011-08-29T11:35:00.000-07:00

It was the best of rehearsals, it was the worst of rehearsals, it was the age of clicktracks, it was the era of elastic tempo, it was the season of unavailable studio time, it was the spring of Gary arranging a session at Studio Trilogy (with audio Jedi, Justin Lieberman helming the engineering).

The thing was, we decided Gary & I should concentrate fully on playing, take off our customary engineer hats, and be pampered by recording somewhere really rather fancy--so we did!! Ooooh the microphone collection! The preamps! The compressors! The consoles--SSL & API ( for those who know and will also say "ooh")! The accommodating staff gamely moved away the 7-foot piano they had set up for the session and moved in their other 7-foot piano, which I had to confess I preferred, and that was, unfortunately, in a different room ( see above photo)!

And how was it?

It all went swimmingly. Without getting freaked out, rushed, or even mildly stressed, we recorded all the songs we planned on (although we did indeed break many a sweat--this is rock after all). I attribute this success to good planning, practice, the excellence of the Studio Trilogy staff, and eating regular meals including breakfast--the most important meal of the day. We even made dinner the 2nd day--Andrew got an 8-lb pork shoulder and rubbed it with smoky paprika and other splendid rubbing spices, I dressed up some cabbage, carrots and onions with Greek yogurt, mayo, vinegar, and sugar into a creamy sweet/ sour slaw, Andrew popped the pork into Studio Trilogy's griller/smoker Weber, and we went off to play for 8 hours. It was all ready to go at the end of the session. Andrew chopped up the meat in the proper pulled-pork style, Gary busted out some Everett & Jones barbeque sauce (local and insanely good) and some french rolls and all the folks lucky enough to be hanging out (strangely more numerous than expected) set to: pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw. Beguiling. Everyone who could fit more in their stomachs had seconds. And all smacked their lips and sighed happily.

I believe the pulled pork party more than made up for having to move the piano...which, by the way was TOTALLY the right choice. The original piano was very nice and ever-so mojo-rific(it has been played by the likes of Stevie Wonder and George Winston!!) but not for me and the demands of the True Margrit sound. The piano I ending up playing is brilliant, bright yet full, with great thunderous yet clear bass notes, and above all, fun to ply my piano-rock upon. It was so nice to have choices--the second bowl of porridge was just right.

It's far far better piano I played today than I have ever played these songs upon before...

breakfast!

chilling

Vietnamese sandwiches for lunch

This is where I sat and played and played and played.

a big room with big drums

We Are Not Not Amused

2011-08-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

I read a massive tome about Queen Victoria this spring. I learned as much as (or more than) I'd ever wanted to know about the long-reigning monarch-matriarch's life, who very name conjures up the final days of Britain's Empire-ishness, the era of industrial revolution, and the proliferation of Victorian houses. She was an intriguingly contradictory human who appears to have experienced moments of great insight well ahead of her time as well as dire lapses of vision not uncommon to her era. She was skilled in working the drawing room, assuredly open, wisely innocent. and she kept all around her guessing. She was capable of royal rages and of wild understatement when displeased, when she would say (famously): "we are not amused". Significantly, she kept a diary quite religiously, which has allowed history to peep into her brain. I shall attempt to adopt her habitual journalistic habits--it may be amusing...

July 20th
Andrew arrives in the bay area on a plane from Sea-Tac. He shoots right over to the studio and sets up his drums. Other gear is also assembled by Gary & I, and in due course we play some songs. Sadly, we sound a bit rusty. Maybe tomorrow it will be better...

July 21st
We do have a somewhat more palatable practice this time. We keep an eye on the time, because Gary's niece, Jaci (not to be confused with Nurse Jackie, even though they sound similar) is cooking the band ( and Sarah and Heather!) dinner! We don't want to be late. At the stroke of 7:45 we hurry over to Gary's place which is redolent with the glory of garlic fumes. Jaci has made garlic bread, pasta, and her grandmother's ( or was it her grandfather's?) meat sauce. Andrew whips up one of his famous Ceasar salads, and we promptly set to with gustatory gusto. Mamamia...and I don't mean that in an ABBA sort of way. Jaci's father's side of the family is Italian ( not the Hobish side) and she has treated us to her culinary heritage and not only are we soon satiated but also much hilarity arises, aided by the wine Gary uncorks from his mystery cellar. Suffice it to say: it was amusing.

July 24
We have another band practice followed by a meal. This time Andrew throws together a basa stir fry (a Thai catfish we can get here in the mission at Sun Fat Seafood Company for ridiculously cheap--especially in light of how delicious it is). We all gobble it up,and Heather and Andrew zip off to the airport and fly home to Tacoma.

Five DAYS LATER
July 29th
Andrew drives back to San Francisco with his big D'Amico drumkit. Why? Well may you may ask. We are fixing to do the first set of recording sessions for the new True Margrit album. Excitement is in the air. But where will we record basic tracks? We don't know yet! Oooh the suspense.

July 30th
Rehearsal! For, tomorrow is our big gig with Kate Kilbane and Debora Iyall!
July 31st
This morning we indulge in our traditional Sunday bacon & eggs breakfast before the big gig. Most fortifying. We arrive at Bottom of the Hill, there are soundchecks; then fans, family, friends, strangers, and familiar faces gather, the show starts. It ebbs it flows, there are sweet tunes, grooves, rock, some dancing, much applause, some birthday cake ( it's my birthday--AND Robert AND Dakota's birthdays too)! and all too soon it is done. Sigh. An amusing day to be sure. {someone wrote this excellent sentiment on our mailing list at Bottom of the Hill: "Love you True Margrit"--see photo above}

August 4th

Off we go to Sacramento. We get caught in a bit of traffic, and we all have uneasy flashbacks to the long long long drive to Texas last year. Here I am again, packed in the little "jumpseat" behind the main cab. Ooof.

We get to Naked Lounge early, and being hungry we set off for some hunting and gathering. We are forced to choose between these two fine establishments:

Jim Dennys Lunch or Bangkok 12

Bangkok 12 Thai restaurant wins, and it is quite delicious--in particular we relish the fried calamari. Revivified, we head back to the venue where Sonic Glow rocks the stage first. We
are next, and we do our best to serenade the entire central valley. Mededoora playes last, beers are quaffed, hands shaken, goodbyes made and we roll back out to the freeway that leads to other freeways, that lead to San Francisco, where we can sleep, soon enough, and dream amusing dreams.

Elves Don't Cry

2011-07-26T22:19:00.000-07:00

Tuesdays in June were noteworthy (in addition to the fun gig described in the previous post) for a limited theatrical engagement of The Lord of the Rings Extended Edition! YES! LOTR on a big screen. On Tuesdays! Why? Well the Blu-Ray of the extended version just came out, so what better way to pimp it than to show if off on the big screen--Peter Jackson: he's clever that way. Some of you may not, could not, did not care. But I do, fervently care about Frodo & Co. Oh Sam. I am glad you are with me.

I admit it--it still makes me cry, even though I know how it all ends. And have known for years due to myriad multiple re-readings of the books.

And then Harry Potter's final chapter came out mid-July --and this culmination generated further fantasy fan tears (ok, ok, including mine). Obviously, it pushes some buttons for some of us--one either has the sci-fi/ fantasy gene or one doesn't. There's nothing for it--that's just the way it is.

And the High Elves sail west with Dumbledore, Gandalf, Frodo and Harry . Merry & Pippin practice polyfidelity with Hermione. Ron Weasley and Sam start an organic farm in Yorkshire where True Margrit will play gigs once a year.

So. Don't cry! The Hobbit movie ( part one) comes out in 2012...and meanwhile we start off on a new True Margrit recording quest this very summer, with reluctant heroes, narrow escapes, bravery and fellowship--right after our gig at
BOTTOM OF THE HILL this Sunday
(7/31/11).

ps it's my birthday show!

Les is More

2011-06-28T10:46:00.000-07:00

No speakers. No mics. No amps ( well--ok there was a mini-bass amp for electric bass). No subwoofer thumping. No spotlights, explosions, confetti, or pitch correction. Just three acts playing their tunes--and it was simply fab and I was ever so proud to be part of it.

What it was was this:

On Tuesday, June 7th Gary & I scooted over to Les Wisner's deceptively modest and increasingly-legendary music spot Bazaar Cafe, for a special rare unplugged show. We were appearing as special guests of Kate Kilbane and the Cellar Doors and their June residency. Stove (a duo extracted from Griddle) was originally booked to play as well, but a last minute family emergency got in the way. Kat Downs of Sit Kitty Sit, at the 11.9th hour, valiantly stepped up to join the lineup.

I started off the night with a few tunes with Gary & then I debuted the (newly revised) version of "You Could be Anything". This is a tune that was originally started as a Writing Exercise Challenge between Kat & me. Somehow we came up with the line we were both to incorporate into a new song--"a straight dude gay for Dave". I did in fact put that line in a song but the tune went off in a different direction and eventually it sloughed off the lyric sheet. These things occur--rewriting. I do a lot of it! That very night I also played two other BRAND new tunes that went back to the drawing board a few times.."Goldstar" (about celestial infatuation) and the very newest, the melancholy waltz, "Apology to a Pigeon". Presumably, the band will be tackling these tunes when we are all together in a few weeks...oh yes.

Kate Kilbane & the Cellar Doors sounded fantastic in unplugged glory. Their songs shine in every setting and I suspect if you heard them coming out of a broken speaker on a Hello Kitty toy telephone they would still sound sublime. That's just how it is--they're scary talented. My favorite song is the chill-inducing, "Chariot Rise" which is from their rock opera, The Medea Cycle. This is what you should do: if they play, go.

Kat Downs played selections from the Sit Kitty Sit repertoire- which also shone bright acoustically. Lest anyone forget, Kat is a TOTAL BADASS piano-player and magnificently risk-taking songwriter with serious vision. Dude. Her drummer, Mike Thompson--an utter rockstar, couldn't ply his mighty crafts in the cafe setting. However, Kate Kilbane conveniently brought along a cajon (a wooden box, big enough to sit upon that sounds remarkably like a quiet kick & snare & highhat) and Mike gamely tried out the instrument for the first time and filled in for the The Cellar Doors absent percussionist--and accompanied Kat on some of their regular tunes.

How can I sum it up to those who weren't there? It was more than the sum of its not-inconsiderable parts--and yet, a night so unpluggy, stripped down, and sleek! The air seem suffused with the glow of a shared secret--on this night, this was the place to be. All the performers thanked Les for hosting us and I couldn't resist the punny epithet: Les is more.

Quantum Mechanics, Marmalade, and Steroids

2011-05-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

Have you missed me dear readers? Hell's bells, I've missed YOU. I know it was a long hiatus. I wanted to leave a respectful margin after the milestone of the release of TRUE GRIT. Fear not, the time has been well spent! I have been writing songs rather than blogs--a process whose end result will be available for your delectation by and by (once we record said tunes and make them available to you the listener via a myriad of venues: download for sure, or affixed to disc, or maybe vinyl, or maybe wax cylinder; so much is possible and the future is perfect until proven disastrous.

Speaking of spatial-temporal matters, I have been reading about quantum mechanics and string theory and hyperspace. I'm no physicist (though I come from a short line of short physicists, of course), but I find it very intriguing nonetheless, and have found it to be fertile fodder for metaphors. I like the idea of multi-dimensional/ alternate universes, and the idea that the possibility of time travel is implied by higher maths and geometries. Y'all will hear some of this percolating into the songs (again--I know, for, to those listeners who have pored over SEAWORTHY and THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS it's one of the theme threads I like, and which I am excited to once again weave into the as-yet-untitled new album which will complete some sort of pop-music triptych. And which may, who knows, one day spin off into a theatricalized version of the entire grand rock opera. Or not.) Anyhoo. You'll see. And the best of all the five senses (where music is involved, you'll hear.

Upcoming Shows Department
With the writing chugging along, and the first set of recording sessions for the new album on the horizon, we are also easing back into some gigging. First up I'll be playing an acoustic, (mostly) solo show (Gary will join in on some tunes) at Bazaar Cafe in SF on Tuesday June 7th. This event is part of the fab Kate Kilbane's June residency at Bazaar ( speaking of rock operas, she has a TOTAL doozy, the astonishing Medea Cycle). And if this weren't enough, Kevin and Xifer from GRIDDLEhave aduo called STOVE and they are playing too. I say: Oooh.

Furthermore: please save the date of JULY 31st at the time of 6pm-9pm for we will be playing at BOTTOM of the HILL again with the above-mentioned Kate Kilbane and her band the cellar doors... AND, wait for it....DEBORA IYALL ( of Romeo Void fame)!!!! It is my birthday show, so your presence (but no presents) are requested!

Department of Delicious
Top Three Snacks Eaten in the Past Week:
3) Proper English scones with butter and Fortnum and Mason Dark Lime Marmalade. It's marmalade from a fancy-ass store in London. And if you don't eat wheat or butter, I'm sorry. Just sorry.
2) Greek Yogurt with apple and flax seeds. I'm obsessed with this and if a day goes by without it, that, my friends, is a day wasted.
1) Lavash grilled chicken sandwich from Progressive Grounds Cafe in Bernal Heights in SF. Why is it so good? Chicken, mozzarella cheese, hummus, zucchini, glazed onion, and tarragon. It's WAY more than the sum of its parts--even though it has a lot of parts.

Department of Afflictions
Meanwhile, we went on a hike in the redwoods for Sarah's birthday (at Sam McDonald Park), I contracted a case of poison oak (well, a case of contact dermatitis from encountering poison oak). This is the third spring in a row this has happened--I guess it's particularly juicy and potent in the spring. And I'm, apparently, particularly susceptible. It starts in one spot and then goes creeping all over my skin, so the doctor prescribes a few weeks of prednisone--a strong steroid for those who aren't familiar. It makes my mind race about, and makes me tend to stay up even later than usual, reading books or writing lyrics (and I snack even more voraciously than usual with those notorious steroid munchies). And maybe I get a little 'roid rage...y'know, just a little grouchy.

I will try to keep a cool objective scientific head about the whole experience. Maybe in the wee hours I will have an insight into quantum theory or I'll envision clearly images of vast expanses of the cosmos heretofore unavailable to my brain. And find that perfect line for a tune. Better living through chemicals. Or maybe I will just eat a scone & think of England.

Department of Non-motorized Vehicles
I have learned to ride a bike! And I love it so very much. I am learning the best bike routes around the Mission--I rode to and shopped at Rainbow Grocery a few days ago. The next big expedition will be to ride up to Golden Gate Park via THE WIGGLE. What is The Wiggle? It's a bike route from the Mission to Golden Gate that cleverly AVOIDS HILLS using geographical and topographical forethought. Perhaps if I study enough quantumn theory I can design a wiggle route to make time and space compress and it will be instantly be the day of our next gig.

Cuz I can't wait to see y'all.

The True True Grit

2011-01-12T09:58:00.000-08:00

Of course we get the question from time to time--where did your band name come from? My name is actuallly truly spelled Margrit--nope, it's not an affectation, it's the spelling used by my mom's friend, my namesake, Margrit Vanderin. And then there's the book, True Grit. It's now been a movie twice over, and yes, we do indeed make reference to it in our band name. But how when and where does one find one's inner grit? And which grit is the grittiest?

In the fine novel by Charles Portis there's a sustained bone-dry wry tone as` the slightly tall-tale follows the wild-west odyssey of Mattie Ross (a frighteningly capable teenage farm-girl with a stubborn streak of epic proportion) who wants to wreak revenge on her father's rather pathetic murderer. She seeks a man with "true grit" to help her pursue the villain into the Indian Territories. She falls in with a U.S. Marshall, the alcoholic, one-eyed, semi-murderous, tough-as-nails, Civil War veteran, Rooster Cogburn as her guide/ foil. In the massively successful Academy Award (trademark inserted here) winning 1969 version we get some lapses of tone from the original story--especially with the unbelievably lame theme-song, and occasional moments of cutesy-ness. But the screenplay stays firmly tethered to its source in plot, atmosphere, and dialogue, and Kim Darby offers a bracing (although overly-gritty, that is, abrasive) Mattie Ross. But this version features a career-topping performance by John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn, pretty much defining the role and himself. And there's an amusingly florid turn by Glen Campbell as the vain (and in the major departure from the book, doomed) Marshall Le Boeuf.

It's hard to imagine being faced with the job of trying to re-make such a classic, but the Coen Brothers new version is ever so gorgeous--the screen drips with golden western light the very color of cowboy nostalgia, nighttime skies are studded with burning blue stars, winter aspens appear stark and Ansel Adamsesque against the snow, horses go galloping kinetically across the prairie. The brothers Coen's script adheres largely to the novel's text, but fails to generate quite the same nuanced flavor of sweet/dark humor of either the book or the 1969 film. The new version is both more formal, with its hip film homagery and super cool editing wizardry, and yet more offhand with Jeff Bridges' Rooster Cogburn dypsomanically muttering his lines into his beard, and peering with knowing keenness out of his one good eye. The new Mattie Ross, played by the excellent Hailee Steinfeld, is more matter of fact and naturalistic, and yet, somehow more mythic. Her story in the hands of the flmmakers, ends up less as ripping yarn and more aesthetically stimulating, catering more to the cerebrum than the gut. And it's darker and colder, and somehow more cartoonish--particularly Matt Damon's delirious offering of comic relief as the ridiculous (and indestructible) Texan, Le Boeuf.

Be that all as it may, can the book or the films or the band answer the question of which grit is the genuine article? Grit is the irritant/catalyst that generates pearls inside of oyster shells. Grit can cause the friction that rubs off a superfluous surface. Grit is more than skin deep--so, it's not the grit on the outside that matters. Jeff Bridges' Rooster Cogburn is missing his right eye, John Wayne the left. Some Le Boeufs die, some live. All of the Mattie Rosses are tough enough to take action against a sea of trouble (making her the opposite man to all the Hamlets soliloquizing through the centuries). Maybe grit can't be explained--only experienced. Grit is more than the sum of its parts. You can tell where it's been by the debris, but there's no knowing where it's heading. Fake grit turns to rust and tarnish. Through the tests upon inner mettle that chisel away pretense, real grit reveals new identities and vistas. And whether you're dealing with murderers & horse thieves, or wrangling a touchy chorus & quarrelsome chord cycle, grit will get you stomping your foot & singing along. And saying, "damn! I like that! But I'm glad someone else tried that, so I didn't have to!"

Blur at the Bottom of the Harvest of the Noe Valley Aubergine

2011-01-03T23:28:00.000-08:00

Andrew stayed in town for three weeks in October. We rehearsed a handful of new tunes. We played some gigs. This last clump of shows followed in the wake of over fifty appearances this past year. So. The last full band appearances (and really, the past 18 months) have blended together into a single glob in my head. Here's the glob:

We launch into our set opener. I pound the keys. The kickdrum thumps, cymbals shimmer, the bass vibrates the whole stage. Some smiling faces peer up at us from the side of the stage. I smile back. Riffs. Chords. Basslines. Backbeats. Tunes. I sing the words of "Syllable": "wish I were a centipede" and I mean it, dude! The lyrics of "Lucy", "Opposite Man", "Emily". Gary harmonizes, miraculously matching my jagged phrases. The song is winding up. Vaulting onto the piano I demonstrate the love that dare not speak its name. I hop off the keyboard. Applause! Thanks y'all!! I sip a tasty beer. We ease into another tune. The set ebbs and flows and pitches and yaws and wows and flutters. We play "50,000 Names" followed by "Opposite Opposite Man". "Bow-legged Romeo shrugs down the street, the wind at his collar and a poem in his teeth". The audience has been watching curiously, appraising, and now when the drums make their surprise entrance in the middle of this stealth ballad, they are drawn into the storyline and forget themselves--just like us. "Comforting the Castaways" maintains the collective state of suspended disbelief. Then "Make Them Beg" snakes through its syncopations and reaches an insistent peak. I knee and stomp the piano clanging discordant bliss while the bass rumbles and duels with the drums. Applause! The show is done. We drag our instruments offstage into a waiting vehicle. It's raining. Sad streets steam silently silvered in the smoky fog. We drive away from the venue. Towards home.

Trial by Juri Street

2010-12-10T09:53:00.000-08:00

Juri Street is in San Francisco. It is one block long. Gary lives on it (not on the street--he does have an apartment, y'all, and we promise that if one of the members of True Margrit becomes homeless, well, you'll be the first to know, kind readers).

On October 3, 2010 we played at the 2nd Juri Street Block Party. The last one was in 2008. 2009 was skipped for some reason--I don't have any data on why that is. In any event, this year was fabu. We played a nice long set, there was a totally groovy/lovey vibe happening, we enjoyed some super tasty foods (it's a potluck!), and I received (in a trade for a copy of "The Juggler's Progress") a LAZERKASOO!!!( yes a kazoo that has a lazer attached and makes pretty/ outerspacey/ Spencer Gifty images while you hum!
And if you still don't believe me, you can check it out it on facebook:
Lazerkasoo).

People of the Juri Street, I must emphasize: the only thing that was a trial about this event was that there were too many nice humans to meet, too many scrumptious treats shared out on the tables, and generally too much fun for one wee afternoon.

PS--it was a benefit for sfsmiles.The verdict: terrific.

A Dangerously Big Head

2010-12-03T22:52:00.000-08:00

On October 1st we played at Kate Goodnight's rad women's music series:
Womengig--at Caffe Trieste! We kicked off the night, roaring into our set with some newer tunes ("Comforting the Castaways", "Obvious Solutions", "Unreliable Narrator") and some older faves ("Syllable" and "50,000 Names"). What with our exuberance and the love coming back at us from the crowd, it was as though an electric beachball was being passed from the stage to the audience and back with sufficient energy to light up Emeryville, San Jose, and Poughkeepsie. We were to be followed by our dear friends, the evening's illustrious headliners, Judea Eden Band. But alas, we couldn't chill out! We had to scoot over to Oakland, for our video, "Opposite Man" was being screened on The Great Wall of Oakland.

Rushing out of the club after the set made us feel a little sheepish, a little silly, and a little bit like rockstars--we were going to a screening of our video, after all, on a HUGE wall, a rare occurrence indeed.

We zoomed over to Oakland and managed to situate ourselves on a roof for an excellent vantage to watch the video. And what a surreal rush: before our gig-induced adrenaline even had a chance to wear off, we experienced our video projected to 100 feet by 100 feet! YOW! My head was three stories high! Neat-o. And scary--for this literally massive representation of my noggin coupled with the grandiosity of having a show wherein my figurative /interior head was expanded--well, that was a bit much for my poor metaphorical neck.

We zipped back to Caffe Trieste to catch the 2nd half of Judea's set--nice! Luckily, as the night wore on, our heads inevitably returned to more customary dimensions--fitting into hats, cars, through doorframes, and into our quotidian, humble, comfortably neurotic lovable psyches. Phew.

There Was a Lot of Glitter pt 2

2010-11-26T15:25:00.000-08:00

As some of you dear readers know, beyond writing tunes for True Margrit, I also score films. Recently, I composed a score for director/writer Scott Boswell's "The Stranger in Us", which has generated quite a buzz here in San Francisco at the Frameline Festival; plus it screened at many festivals around the country, it has won some awards, and garnered great reviews--including in Variety Magazine (wow). In addition to my original score, two True Margrit songs were featured in the film--"Opposite Man" and "Opposite Opposite Man".. Scott and his producer, Cheryl, just negotiated some deals for worldwide DVD distribution of the film, and to add to his other fab special features on the DVD package, he and Sarah Dunham (the director/filmmaker/magician behind our videos: "Opposite Man" and "Syllable" cooked up the plan to include a new music video for "Opposite Opposite Man" with both footage from "The Stranger in Us" and of the band.

There was a bit of a crunch with the deadline, so Andrew flew into town from Tacoma for an extra special weekend. We had a top-secret shoot at an undisclosed location, and all I can tell you is that (as sometime happens in True-Margrit-related activities) there was a lot of glitter. "Opposite Opposite Man" is a pretty intense song, so by the end of the shoot (what with the hypnotic repetition of the tune and the glitter flotsam & jetsam) it appeared that the Horsehead Nebula, the Crab Nebula, and The Tree of Souls were whirling about in our heads. Whoa, dude.

Here's a silly document of the glitter cleanup after the shoot--if you look closely at the street, you can see the glitter swirl when we shake the dropcloth.

The above shoot was in September--now it's almost December and we will unveil the "Opposite Opposite Man" video in a few days on youtube--and there will be a premier-screening in San Francisco, as well. So, stay tuned.

The Opposite Band

2010-08-17T22:29:00.000-07:00

Saturday August 7
We stop at Pea Soup Andersons on Highway 5. We get to SF around 7:00 pm. We sleep.

Sunday August 8
Off we go to Bottom of the Hill at the crack of noon. We meet the (MANY—it varies from show to show, but today they are ten) members of Family Crest. Family Crest plays first. They are VERY adept at what they do, which is definitely in the Arcade Fire kind of vein, but with more pop-soul-tinged vocal stylings, and more aggressively orchestral flavorings—and occasionally even embracing Gypsy-meets-Celtic-music-meets-chamber-music moments to keep the listeners guessing and wondering. And they are cute as buttons.

Next up is the worldwide premiere of our new music video, OPPOSITE MAN—directed by filmmakers, Sarah Dunham & Chelsea Walton. The screen goes up, Sarah pushes ‘play’, the video kicks in, and we are as excited as HELL to be sharing it with the folks here today. The video looks AMAZING—from the time-lapse, and tilt-shift, to the radiant saturated colors, to the wild glowing white grid backdrop—splendid! I’m so proud.

It really strikes me, upon seeing it on a biggish screen, how much Sarah and Chelsea totally nailed it—the video fits the song in this super-cool way. Multiplicity. Choices. The time lapsed/ tilt-shifted scenes of humanity moving through the cityscape convey that pseudo-brave shell of ironic distance that belies the vulnerability underneath. Don’t we all sometimes wish we were the opposite man? But as soon as you get the opposite of what you had, you want the NEW opposite, don’t you? That’s that fleeting myth embedded in an unreachable past in a hall of reflecting mirrors wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a sweater.

And the dog’s in the cradle, and the cat’s in the cupboard, and Bono’s in a villa, and the pea’s in the pod, and the butter’s on the table, and the bacon’s in the pan.

We leap into our set after the video, while on the floor a whole sassy dance-section forms and organizes some fancy moves custom-made on the spot for each tune--very amusing. We do some bangup versions of tunes from SEAWORTHY and THE JUGGLER’s PROGRESS, plus some newer ones: “Blazing Wheel”, “Obvious Solutions”, Superhero Drugs”, and “Comforting the Castaways”. All of these are on the docket to be recorded… and soon! And how!

In a blur our set is over and the final act , McCabe and Mrs Miller takes the stage. They are a super-duper-supergroup (each member being a big star in his/ or her own right) and show no mercy as they croon, roar, whisper, and scream, and pummel their instruments and vocal cords in the name of Sunday afternoon rocking. Very impressive, very cool— and it’s a great ending to a great day of music.

The bands’ gear is cleared and carried away to waiting vehicles, the final drinks are quaffed, farewells are made, and the last cars drive off. The night is young and there will be a variety of companionable gatherings with beverages and foods and all other manner of refreshments, but that part of our mission where we get up onstage and play for you nice people is completed (for now) and though it is sad it is over (for now) it is also satisfying to know in our guts, in our bones, and in our very cells that what we just accomplished was a summer tour well-done. North, south, east, and west, we chased the cardinal points to shows in Washington, Oregon, and California--playing at an organic farm, a burlesque show, a jazz club, a restaurant, a café, at big and wee nightclubs. We answered interview questions, we appeared on the radio, we traveled far, we drank beer.

We did our best to rock you.

Mim's the Word

2010-08-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

In the morning we receive an email from David Bash generally thanking all the performers and asking if anyone accidentally took a black jacket from backstage at the venue—Steve Barton is missing his groovy 60’s coat. Andrew fesses up—he thought is was Gary’s jacket so he scooped it up & tossed it in the truck. Oops. We get in touch with Steve and make the joke he’s probably pretty sick of: “your jacket’s in the Valley, but you’re not”. Ouch. He’s totally gracious and agrees to meet us at our venue before the gig to retrieve his cool garment.

We get to tonight’s venue (TRIP) at 5:30-ish and Steve shows up promptly. We hand over his jacket; and it turns out that both his cell-phone and a copy of his new, unreleased album are in the pockets DAMN. We are glad all these items are safe back with the owner. To make up for our bad behavior we give him some True Margrit CDs and he gives US a copy of his new CD to check out! WOW—what a guy!

We get our gear onstage while Shane, TRIP's amazing sandwich artisan, makes us all the MOST mysterioously scrumptious sandwiches. We eat these with relish (actually, with pickles).

Soon enough, though, we greet friends, and then it’s time to play. Andrew has a whole table of high-school friends there cheering us on; Gary has a quite a crew tonight, as well. Super-sweet. We blaze through a few tunes and then my sister Mim Eichler Rivas (yes, she’s that famous as hell author), and her husband Victor Rivers (also famous as hell) arrive. YAY! We greet them (well, to be more accurate, we all intone: “MIM” in an oblique reference to Galaxyquest), and then carry on with the rock.

After the gig we mill about on the sidewalk and eventually formulate a plan to go to Jerry’s Deli. There, we chat and eat and have a nice little after-party. Matzo-ball soup, chopped liver, chopped salad, burgers, and cheesecake are all consumed by one or more of our group. And then somehow it’s after midnight. Our friends/family are all looking weary. We are a bit sleepy too, but not very--we are getting tough. After that epic journey to Texas, this trip (though not a complete piece of cake) is certainly way mellower.

We zip back to Grenada Hills in half the time it took to get to Santa Monica due to the late hour and its attendant lack of traffic. And now the air has cooled down, the palm trees are silhouetted in the streetlights, their leaves gently sussurating in the night breeze. And tomorrow: yea though we travel through the Valley of Central California, I will fear no odor.

Margrit & Margaret

2010-08-13T00:51:00.000-07:00

Thursday, August 5
Picture this: I write a blog about how I undertake a mission to cook all the recipes in Margaret Cho's cookbook...no wait...wrong universe.

OK. Picture this instead--since this DID happen:
International Pop Overthrow Festival at the Echoplex in Echo Park in Los Angeles! IPO is indie-music tastemaker, David Bash’s baby—and his baby is now a teenager, this is the 13th year (time for a bar-mitzvah) that he’s been traveling to and from NYC, Liverpool, Seattle, Los Angeles (among other locations ) creating scores of super lineups of indie-power-pop joy. We are proud to be part of such a cool institution—in fact this year we are on the IPO compilation CD. Hence, if you go to any of the shows you can pick up a copy and you’ll get our song, “SYLLABLE” for free (and 65 other cool tunes by bands you will be psyched to know about).

We are up first tonight, so when we get to the Echoplex we just carry our gear right up to the stage and set it up and check it. Done and done. We get swag on the merch-table, Done and done. It’s still over an hour before our set, so we repair to TWO BOOTS pizza next door. I always get a TWO BOOTS slice when I’m in the Village in NYC; I had no idea they had expanded to LA. I say: YUM! We are all pretty much ravenous, but we only get a single slice—for now. There are many items on the menu we want to experience, but I for one, must not be too terribly full whilst rocking. But after the show—I intend to eat the face off of a calzone (as Christina Kowalchuk would say).

We go back downstairs to the club and in walks Gary’s friend, the clever funnyman, Jim Earl (of the Clutter Family--oh, and Gary just mastered their CD). Jim is accompanied by his friend--the brilliant, hip, and fabulous Margaret Cho--ooh! How cool! We try not to say anything too ridiculous to her, since we are such total fans of all her work.

And then it’s time for us to rock! We explode into “500 Years” and it’s super fun to play on such a big ol’ stage. We burn through our set in what seems like nanoseconds (but it’s actually our allotted 25 minutes), and then it’s time to take a bow and carry off my piano.

We sell and sign some CDs, and chat with Jim Earl and Margaret Cho, who give us warm and fuzzy feedback--especially Margaret, who says many enthusiastic and encouraging words about our music, genre, and our performance thereof--and this, I must say, my friends, is most inspiring and thrilling indeed. She tells me she is working on her music these days ---which is supercool--and that she has a keytar...(Ok this link is a crazy one with Rick and Adam Wakeman--just saying). Margaret informs me that the old keytars from the 80's are "bullshit" but the new ones are great--this is a good tip and when I (inevitably) can't resist the urge any longer, and go ahead and acquire my very own personal keytar, I will be forewarned and forearmed. She and Jim then take off to fulfill their quest for pie. Mmm, pie.

The next band starts up: The Shebangs! We just played with them in SF in January at El Rio. Now here we are on this massive stage. They have an awesome set, followed by Steve Barton –who also plays a superb set. WOW! And hey--we are everywhere that Steve is (well, twice in 24 hours--as will be related in the next blog). This is a damned good show of which we are proud participants.

At this point our returning hunger makes our interest in music become detached and visions of TWO BOOTS pizza draws us back for more of the fine fare. We go order and split a chicken parmesan sandwich and a saprasetta mushroom and artichoke calzone—it is pretty delish. As we munch our second dinner we look around. Wow. Everyone looks famous— for example, I keep thinking the guy across from our table with the pepperoni slice looks like a guy from Star Trek New Generation...right?

And now, because pie was invoked during the course of the evening, we go now in search of dessert. We end up only a few doors down at Masa. We are ALMOST turned away, but once the owner is assured we will take something sweet to go, he personally sets us up with bread pudding and carrot cake. He tells us that if we don’t like the bread pudding we can come back & get our money back. He is very confident. He informs us that it’s actually croissant pudding—specifically, it’s made with chocolate and almond croissants. Good LORD!

When we get the treats back to Lynn’s house and try them, there is much rejoicing-especially over the bread pudding. AMAZING! It is should have a star on Hollywood Boulevard. I just know it's Margaret Cho's recipe--and I know, I just know she can cook it while singing and playing her keytar!

With these comforting visions dancing in my head--and eggs, sugar, butter, chocolate, and marzipan pirouetting in my belly, I slumber sweetly.

Tasmanian Angels

2010-08-11T23:58:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, August 4

The guys arrive at my place a mere two hours later than they said they would and we’re off to Los Angeles (actually, our first southern Cal date is in Sherman Oaks at a fancy schmancy restaurant). Andrew drives like the wind through the central valley. It is boiling hot today (you guessed it, we have no AC), and with the aromas from Cowschwitz, Pea Soup Andersen's, and other loathsome Hwy 5 landmarks, we are glad to make serious tracks.

We arrive at our host’s abode—once again the lovely Lynn is putting us up/putting up with us. Overcome with a crippling torpor we drape ourselves on the furniture for a wee rest before the shower queue begins.

Soon enough we are off to Sherman Oaks. When we get to Cafe Cordiale we do a walk –through. Well. White tablecloths. Low lighting, hushed tones. We’re gonna bust up this quilting-bee, neighbors and gentlefolk.

We start loading in our gear, and one of the other performers, Rod Fritz (who is here all the way from Australia), arrives. We feel like we are old friends, since we’ve been shooting posts, emails, and info back and forth on facebook and reverbnation . His girlfriend, Tania from Tasmania, is totally bubbly, charming, and blessed with good looks beyond mere mortals; within a few moments we are all getting along famously & sipping drinks at the bar. Shortly this particular configuration alters, because my “uncle” and “aunt” Phil and Mary show up; we repair to our own table to chat. Meanwhile, Athena Murray starts up her set—and a very excellent set it is.

Rod gets up next and sings like and angel (and with much stage presence). I had checked out some of his tunes online, but he sounds even better in person. Tania and he beam at each other while he plays. She tells me about each song.

She says:

“ Oh this one is the absolute BEST” and “This one makes me cry” and other such commentary. Aw, cute. She takes a break from shooting pics of Rod to pose for my camera.

Then it is time for True Margrit to stand in front of the red curtains. Ooh red. We feel kind of swanky. The sound is quite nice and we play through our set with the volume down a few notches from eleven (but just a few)--Andrew has a smaller kit than usual, and is hitting the skins with blastix instead of sticks. We will not alarm digesting diners—well, not too much. Tonight’s version of our new tune, “ Comforting the Castaways”, is particularly tasty. We dedicate our closing song to Mary and Phil due to it being their anniversary, and then the show is over.

We sell a few CDs, sign up a few new fans on the mailing list, say farewells to our peeps, and meanwhile Tania tries on, selects, and purchases one of our t-shirts. She and Rod are coming up to San Francisco this weekend and they assure us they will come to Bottom of the Hill and grace us with their friendly faces. Rejoicing at that thought, we ride forth towards Lynn’s house where we’ll soon enough get to slumber.

Marc Time Flies

2010-08-10T00:27:00.000-07:00

Brad~

Sunday, August 1
The guys retrieve me from Brad’s at the crack of 10:30 and we hasten to KWVA where we are to appear in an interview on the Sunday Morning Hangover with Marc Time. He has requested that we bring some rarities, so we share some instrumental versions of songs from THE JUGGLER'S PROGRESS, some outtakes from Seaworthy, and some of my demos of new songs. Marc is an excellent, entertaining, quick-witted radio personality. He asks us interesting questions and makes us feel welcome…well most of the time-- he does start to snore with comical loudness into his mic when I go off on a ( perhaps dull) description of using a whole–tone scale in one of the rare tracks we play, “Desperate and Dumb”. Damn, dude! How rude…and I admit—hilarious! And useful--for the rest of the tour, we use this snoring technique on each other to curtail overly-lengthy diatribes, explanations, and lectures any member of True Margrit may try to bore ourselves with.

After the show we meet Brad at Studio One Café for a spectonkular brunch. Yum. Best French toast. Ever. And a damned good Benedict. And now, somehow, it’s almost 3pm—DAMN! We gotta jet! We get on Highway 5 and point vehicles toward San Francisco…and two full days break from the tour, but I know this time will fly.

Mark my words.

I Live at my House

2010-08-09T23:54:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 31
On the way down to Eugene (where we play TONIGHT) we stop in Portland and have lunch with my brother Dan Eichler—yay!!!

We zoom onward to Eugene and soon enough the True Margrit band is convening with Andrea and Joey at Rogue Brewery consuming delish items like beer, Kobe burgers, reubens, and more tater tots. Mmm, tots. Thus fortified, we walk down the block to our venue, Luckey’s Cigar Store. Teresa (who heard us for the first time last week at the Rock Bar gig is there, having driven down from Portland --which is so very flattering! The New Mexican Revolution kicks off the night with some hearty, excellent, quirky-rock-meets-Americana in the family tree of both Tom Waits and Nick Cave—nice! We especially love the tune where bassist Emily picks up her trumpet and performs a super pretty brassy fanfare. Oh yeah.

The NMR finishes their set with a flourish and we pop up to the stage and roar into a set. We are egged on to new heights by the crowd--particularly by a dude doing some dancing that includes furious pogo-hops, jumps, skips and general arm-flailing. It makes me feel that Eugene is very hospitable—I feel quite at home.

After a few songs he inquires politely:
“Are you gonna play that songs about bruises to your ego?” I gape for a moment—he’s quoting my lyrics!

Finally I answer:
“ Oh, right, oh yeah, ‘Syllable’! Totally. We are definitely playing it!”

He says:
“I heard it on Snap Crackle Pop on KWVA. It’s your best song—but I love them all, so far…” I high-five him by way of thanks. SWEET!

We continue onward, making the Luckey’s stage our home away from home. We slam through our set with full-on rock forces, playing well past midnight. After the show we sell some CDs to various folks, our friends Andrea & Joey take off, we meet the crazily dancing guy (James B) who announces that we are now his favorite band. YAY! I LOVE IT! I give a CD to David Gizara from KLCC who wants to play “Make then Beg” on his jazz show—nice! A great night!

Gary & Andrew head back to Marc’s, but I hang at the bar with my bud, Brad E (a brilliant guitarist--and part of Luckey’s bartending staff). I’m going to crash at his place, so I chill while they close up shop. They are just about to shut the doors when it is determined that a woman, we’ll call her Mabel, is passed out on a couch in the dark. The staff tries to get her to her feet, but to no avail. Not to be defeated, a rolling office chair is produced and Mabel is wheeled out to a waiting cab at the curb. Brad and I opt to go with her to make sure she gets safely home. But alas, Mabel is not able to conjure up her address. When asked where she lives, she can only muster:

“My house!” Hellfire. The cabbie does indeed remember her former apartment, however, it appears she has moved--and to where, it unfortunately remains a mystery. After a few stops around Eugene, some of her close friends are located and she is bundled into her homies' waiting arms and we speed off into the night. Well—what’s left of it.

For, as I finally lay head to pillow and drift off, I hear birds a-stirring and there’s a distinct lightening of the sky.

It's a Little Eorthe After All

2010-08-07T21:05:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 30th
Today we are heading to a potluck /openhouse/concert at an organic farm (Little Eorthe Farm run by Carrie Anne Little & Ken). I throw together some tater salad with olive oil & boiled eggs & celery & capers & onions and we promptly leave for the very farm from whence said taters sprang –whoa. We don’t have super far to go from Tacoma—we are going just outside of Orting, WA. When we arrive we set up our instruments on a brand new stage that looks out over a field facing a wooded ridge. WOW! This is gorgeous. I wander about, checking out the pigpen, trying to photograph the alpacas. They are very distrustful, as they have recently been shorn and they slip away when I come near. The sheep are more social and crowd around to be scratched and cooed at.

I meet our hosts, Ken & Carrie, who are SUPER cool and they go to great lengths to make sure we all have a drink—there are four kegs with housemade beverages: porter, mead, IPA, and carbonated wine. I slurp down a big cup of mead and it’s delicious--- and damn it, I’m drunk. Ken tells me it’s about 15% alcohol. Oops. Just then a big fat platter of roasted chicken arrives (the chickens were clucking, hunting, and pecking these very fields just days ago, but have been sacrificed for the delectation of all of us lucky enough to be here at this party to taste them.). And they are delicious.

After three pieces I feel more sober --which is good, because we presently launch into our set. The sun sets while we play tunes. The first stars line up on the horizon like ships on a quest, dew settles on the fields, and the audience bundles into sweaters, jackets, and blankies, delicious drinks in hand, as they settle in for a good listen. In this dusk of exactly blue we play “50,000 Names”. As I sing, I perceive the deepening sky overhead in my peripheral vision and it feels chockfull of possibilities—way more than 50,000.

In due course, we wind up our set and Deborah Page Band sets up (except for Andrew who is all ready to go, of course). While they prep their show, Monica regales the crowd with some standup in the bawdy, ribald vein, sending the crowd into gales of mirth. The band launches into their moody-sweet music as the stars blaze forth mingling with the onstage lightshow of lasers and swirling colors. The moon rises into a nest of glowing clouds, adding another note of mystery to the proceedings.

After the rockshow is completed there are hugs all around, then the crowd drifts into the night. We tear down the gear and chat with a few late-arrivers. Our hosts have long retired to their repose. They have to be at the Proctor Farmer’s Market at 7:30 am.

A farmer’s work is never done.

Exposure

2010-08-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, July 28th
Before hitting the pillow in the wee hours, I find a little prezzie from Heather resting upon said pillow: a card and a Fran’s salted caramel. For it is my birthday, my friends. In the late late morning I arise and indulge in some strong black tea and some vocal and cardio warm-ups. Thus fortified I’m ready to face my year. I work for a while on some lyrics for a new song called, “Absolute Zero”. I receive birthday calls from friends & family. Meanwhile, as the afternoon wears on, aromas of the most appetizing nature are wafting about causing much growling in my stomach. Andrew is frying up his famous Bacon bacon fried chicken, Gary is baking his famous chili-cheese cornbread, and Heather is roasting organic veggies famously. YUM! Soon we eat, joined by my Tennesse friend, Anne Turpin, who now lives in Tacoma! There is also birthday cake and good cheer, and a lovely and filling time is had by all.

Happy birthday to ME—nevermind Candace.

Thursday July 29th
We arrive at 4th Ave Tavern not knowing who, when, how, which, wherefore, or moreover. The club booked us and Gina Belliveau originally, but then added a burlesque show to the evening. Do we go first? Does the burlesque show include ponies? Is Andrew going to be asked to play rimshots while dancers expose body parts? The suspense is soon to end. We bring in the gear and Ben the good-natured (and we will soon learn talented) sound-guy spells out his plan to mesh the two shows by alternating sets—a sandwich , if you will. We get set up on our quadrant—well, almost half, really--of the stage. The other section will have the risqué dancers prancing naughtily. Or nicely, or both, depending on your proclivities.

Soon enough the crowd arrives--rather dressed up in evening-ish wear and looking eagerish in their dresses and fancy pants. People like near-nudity, it’s a well-worn fact. The show commences with Gina Belliveau accompanied on some songs by her friend Claire. They play a set of super-sweet tunes that is well-received by the filling house.

Then the burlesque players shake their moneymakers, strut, and grind with a healthy dose of humor and to great approbation of the audience. We follow their set with a short but sassy set of our own, closing with "MAKE THEM BEG" (which feels particularly apt tonight). This is, in turn, followed by more nearly-nude dancing. One dancer does her bit to Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls, an arresting performance which climaxes when she dislodges two cheese burgers from her loincloth/pants and eats them (except for the portions that are mischievously spat out upon the startled but very amused crowd).

Then the dancers turn the stage over to us (in the name of rock) for the rest of the evening and we set forth on a journey that takes us well past midnight. There’s a changing of the guard with the rock-hungry crowd filtering in while the burlesque-satiated crowd filters out. Amongst those with an appetite for both shows I see the nodding and smiling woman from the Jazzbones show—nodding and smiling once again (sweet)! At one point a posse of women arrives that exhibit some enthused dancing while we play. I mention that we are from San Francisco and they all holler and hoot and laugh—it turns out they too are from the bay area! They particularly dig “500 Years” , and during the 7/8 section as the piano and bass accents are thundering, and the drums shatter the sound barrier, they throw cash at us—fives and ones go swirling about mingling with all the eighth notes, generally filling the air with anarchy and love. Whoa.

After the gig we hit King Solomon’s Reef next door. We are joined at the diner by she who nods and smiles (we are then properly introduced and I learn that she is Cat). Josh, who really dug the set and thus bought our CD, also comes along; and (in a rare co-mingling of the burlesuque and rock camps of the evening) Janine, the burlesque troupe’s fearless leader also joins our table for some food and chatter. We all get tasty snacks in the genre of burgers, tater tots (deep-fried, mind you), grilled cheese and tomato soup, and such.

Giving and receiving exposure is strenuous and we are hungry--and the food tastes divine.

Seattle Two Ways

2010-08-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

Monday, July 26th
Many hours of sleep roll by in technicolor REM for me. AWESOME! I feel revivified. In the morning I work out whilst Andrew is just working.

We all head up to Seattle on this gigless night. Andrew & Heather meet a cousin of Andrew’s for a fancy seafood meal. Gary chills in the park meditatively overlooking the Pacific, then chows down on fancy seafood at a different eaterie. I wander about meditatively, drink free tea samples, wander more, and finally eat fancy seafood at yet another restaurant. We re-convene for tasty beers and a highly elevated & rarified salami platter at Pike Brewing Company ( since our seafood dinners, fanciness notwithstanding, were on the light side).

We head back to Tacoma where we all listen nostalgically to selections from 90125 and Big Generator by Yes, to which Heather & I do some moving interpretive dance. Needless to say there’s not a dry eye by the end of the night.

Tuesday, July 27th

Back up to Seattle we go—this time we shall rock. We get to the (Jewelbox Theatre) and find that it is ever-so cute. It is a bar/restaurant/theatre all at the same time--which is no small feat--and we get to play on their wee stage in the theatre area. Deborah Page Band
(for which, in an instance of music-scene-incest/ cross-pollination, Andrew plays drums) sets up first. They coat the stage with Deborah’s tunes, swirling lights, lasers, fog synths, e-bowing, and mega atmosphere –sweet! Then True Margrit hurtles through space balancing precariously on a sassy stack of songs—zoom! Finally, the evening is topped off with the athletic, honeyed, mellifluous voice & piano of Katrina Litz accompanied by her sparkling drummer’s finger-snapping grooves—wow! And I say again, wow.

We go back to Tacoma with rock in our veins and hunger in our bellies. And we snack upon arrival, 2:30 am though it is. Yum.

The Leg Bone's Connected to the Jazzbone

2010-08-05T14:17:00.000-07:00

Saturday July 24th
My cousin Brook (& Mike's!) boisterous wedding festivities exact from each participant a payment of tears (and chuckles) of the type that friends and kin tender with joy and pride on such occasions. In other words--there's nary a dry eye in the Portland city park where the nuptial ceremony takes place. The reception continues in the same vein, with exuberant toasts to the cute and awesome bride and groom. When the party is over, all retire replete with good cheer, good food, drink, cupcakes, and sparklers.

Sunday, July 25th
A smaller group meets in the a.m. for bagels & just a bit more family time. Afterwards I grab a ride with my cousin, Jon F Geffen to head back up to Tacoma--for Andrew and Gary await and there's a gig tonight! The traffic is gnarly & I grow weary in the eyeballs due to the summer afternoon glare on the highway.

It takes four hours (twice the usual travel time) and I arrive kind of last minute-ish. Gary & Andrew trot off to the venue du jour, Jazzbones, to load-in--graciously conceding that I might welcome a breather before I head over to join them in rock.

I chill for a bit, chatting with Heather, thus bringing my brain back to earth after its journey to the outer reaches of the galaxy’s spiral arms brought on by the lightspeed visit with glorious family and extensions thereof.

In due course, we scoot over to the club Jazzbones and find Gary & Andrew already ensconced next to a tidily arranged merch-table, tasty beers in hands. The drumkit is against the far wall all assembled and ready to be whisked up onstage when it’s time for rock.

I peer about the room. Something seems different—the murals? No they were here before. Well, they are fetching—shiny reddish-hued depictions of music-related actions such as drumming and sax playing. Hmmmm—maybe it looks changed because I was so wildly sleep-deprived last time (as recounted in the October blog: HUMPDAY), and I’m merely mildly sleep-deprived at the moment.

The band playing has a Fender Rhodes. I flashback to the first time I met Gary during a solo set I was playing at the Albion in San Francisco and he McGyvered my Fender Rhodes when it broke down (it broke down a lot, the damned thing, but it sounded GREAT) --and I was able to finish my set thanks to him.

Now, back in present tense , it’s our turn. We place our gear onstage and wallop the hell out of it for several songs. It sounds good. The hand bone’s connected to the piano-bone.
The piano-bone’s connected to the drum bone, the drum bone’s connected to the bass-bone. Hear the sound of True Margrit. Amen. I’m looking out as we play. A woman smiles and nods in time through each song from her table close to the stage. Presently, another woman breathlessly approaches the stage and asks me to sing ‘happy birthday’ to a girl who’s turning 21.

I ask:
“What’s her name?” She pauses.

She says:
“Wait”, and scampers back to the bar. We play some more tunes. She returns. She says:
“Candace”, and jets back to the bar.

I strike a chord and sing:
“Happy birthday to Candace/ you’re turning 21/ Happy birthday Candace/ now you’re free to be a lush.” A heartwarming sentiment, really. We wind up our set, tear down, load the truck, and drive away from Jazzbones. Again.

This gig’s connected to the last gig
The big gig’s connected to the humble gig
That next gig’s gonna flip your wig
Dem gigs dem gigs dem funky warm and fuzzy gigs

Dem Bones shows up a lot...here...
Or here...

Between a Rock and a Coffee Place

2010-07-29T01:18:00.000-07:00

After the rehearsal for my cousin Brook's wedding, we repair to the rehearsal dinner/ blockparty/square dance. Pretty nifty. Pizza. Ice-cream. Bluegrass. I mingle with my family tree and then when the time is up, Gary & I scamper off to the venue for tonight's show--
ROCK BAR and Coffee Lovers Cafe. They can't seem to choose between the two: Coffee or ROCK , so they wave both banners, presumably the ROCK one at night, the COFFEE one in the day. Fair enough. It's a nice high-ceilinged space with an itty-bitty bar on one side, with a wall separating it from the couches and short-order kitchen/cafe on the other side. AH. SO. Hence the dual personality.

Even though we are in Portland, opening the show is another bay area band, CALLOW. Their music effortlessly walks the tightrope stretched between atmospheric rawness and carefully constructed arrangements...kind of like, rock-meets-coffee. We all enjoy! Then we play a nice long juicy set of our own. Our extra-special audience members include a sizable coterie of Eichler/Geffens and Andrew's long ago babysitter from when he was wee. Mindblowing. We do our best to entertain. And send out interesting contrasting vibes as befits the evening's running theme. Be aggressively groovy! Shuffle and groove along, but-- with an edge. YEahhhehjhhajehjgggggooooooood. Like that.

The important thing is, my mom really digs it.

MY MOMMY!

Prelude to the Summer 2010 Multi-tasking "Healthy" Birthday Tour

2010-07-29T00:24:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, July 20th
I'm in the locker room at my gym extracting my swimming gear from my backpack. Bathing suit. Check. Goggles. Check. Earplugs. Check. Bathing cap. Check. Thinking: yeah, cool, I'm fitting in one more trip to the pool before our tour.

Gary calls. He says:
"UH--I really need another day--how do you feel about leaving Thursday instead of tomorrow?"

I say:
"I'm cool with that--no worries, man".

He says:
"Great. Hey-I'm really going to make an effort to eat healthfully on this trip. I'm bringing some bananas and apples, and carrots for the car."

I say:
"Absolutely! Me too! Texas was CRAZY! The way we ate. I'll be bringing some veggies and such!"

I swim. I make a trip to Rainbow Grocery for the proscribed healthful snacks to eat in the car. I dawdle on the way home. At home finally. Answer emails, laundry into the washer, play some piano. After all, I now have a whole other day to pack. The afternoon wears on. Sarah & I walk up to Bernal Hill for sushi dinner at Moki's. Then we watch a dvd, and then it's late. Oops I didn't pack. But I assure myself I will pack in the afternoon, and so planning I drift off to slumberland.

Wednesday, July 21st
Laundry into the dryer. Working out at the circuit gym. Playing a lot of piano. Then, it's 6pm...oops. I haven't packed. Sarah & I go to Pomelo for dinner since I was too busy playing the piano (and ostensibly packing) to cook. We return home. Then it's 10:30. Oops. Better pack. I pack.

Thursday, July 22nd
Oops it's 2:30 am. Shit. I sleep. I arise at the obscene hour of 6:30 am. Gary arrives at 7:30. We pack up the car & set out.

I say:
"Have you had breakfast?"

He says:
"No".

I say:
"Is Dynamo Donuts open?"

He says:
"Uh oh." Because once they are invoked, the Dynamo Donuts must be eaten. And they are ever so good. I have a Fleur de Sel Caramel. Gary has a Bacon Apple. Oh lord. We head north.

We pass Mt. Shasta in the noonish time. We are growing hungry, donuts notwithstanding. It has been four hours since Dynamo, after all. We stop in Weed, CA for some chef salads (very very good for us). Gary's friend, Sylvia Massey, owner & chief engineer of the AMAZING Radiostar Studios, drops by to say hey while we lunch. But soon enough she has to return to her session and we are once again zipping up the 5.

Our next celebrity meal is in Eugene, OR with Marc Time and Barb at Noodle House. Then on to Portland we go. We arrive at my brother's house at 9:30pm, delivered right into the bosom of my fabulous family. My brother, Dan, his wife, Karen, my mom, Sonya, my sister, (another celebrity) Mim Eichler Rivas, and my nephew (another celebrity) Elan Eichler are ALL here!! YAY! I LOVE Y'ALL!!

So this is the deal--this is the multi-tasking tour, and tomorrow I will:
1) go to the wedding rehearsal ( I'm playing a bit o' piano for my cousin Brook Geffen's Wedding)

and

2) play a gig with TRUE MARGRIT

Phew.

Everybody's a Critic

2010-06-12T12:33:00.000-07:00

A few years ago when a friend of mine was hanging out in my studio, she sat down at the piano and launched into a new song she wanted to share with me. I was enjoying the tune when, on the downbeat of the 24th bar, my cat Fuschia (an often ungainly feline) hurtled towards the piano and projectile-vomited onto the floor about five feet from my musician buddy. It was gross (and a little hilarious). Well, I thought. Everybody's a critic.

Why this precious moment came to mind today and took on a certain resonance I will presently relate.

This afternoon in an email from my friend Kimberlee, I learned that her zine, TOIL , got a cool shout-out in NARCOLEPSY PRESS REVIEW. She told me that my short-story, "Raven's Nest" (featured in TOIL #3) got particular special attention (in her words it received comments of a "starry-eyed" nature).

Oooh.

Naturally, I wanted to check out any celestially-inclined approbation being dispensed upon my writings, so I did some googling. An Australian zine-review blog came up (Blackguard) which had a review of Narcolepsy Press Review--apparently NPR's a zine only, there's no website. So, depending on the dictates of my need to hear what was said about my story, I may have to seek out the zine in question at the neighborhood zine-store (and yes we have those in San Francisco, cuz this is one cool town...in many ways).

Now, whilst I researched, I learned that googling "Narcolepsy Press Review" and "Margrit Eichler" dislodges from the cyber-chaos a rather negative review of True Margrit's 2005 release, SEAWORTHY on a myspace blogger page. I won't bother going into it in much detail--suffice it to say, my lyrics were referred to as, "purple prose" (I just use this parenthetical time-out to instruct, not to split hairs, but the words in songs are verse, not prose, though my lyrics may well refract violet hues in some prim prisms), the review went on to assert that listening to SEAWORTHY was "unpleasant", and then finally, my singing was unexpectedly praised...hmmm the latter was well-done. But the rest. Damn. Oh well.

On the other hand. If you were to google "True Margrit" and "Alan Haber" you will get Mr. Haber's site --buhdge.com-- with his wildly glowing review of our new album, THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS, wherein he bestows so many ego-inflating smiles and similies upon the True Margrit name that it's a wonder we aren't more insufferable. Among other nice comments, he declares:

"...following up the mastery of the knockout Seaworthy, is another propulsive, piano-as-attack-dog master-craft lesson in how to roll out the pop by investing the entire rainbow of emotion, peppered by a bubble of crusty ambivalence, in songs about foibles, follies and honest mistakes. Played, once again, by the ace, core trio of piano magician Margrit Eichler, bassist Gary Hobish and percussionist Andrew Bacon, Eichler's highly literate songs roll like little 3D movies--music made for IMAX theaters, widescreen imaginations, and air pianists everywhere...Set your CD device on play and prepare to be stunned with a song cycle that has no equal in these early days of 2010. Cherish the progress of this musical juggler. You too will wish you were the opposite man." (ALAN HABER, buhdge.com 3/28/10)

WOW~! I think he REALLY likes us. I say: Thank you, sir! Thank you.

I begin to digress. The point being. One reviewer's jewel-beyond-compare is another blogger's atrocity. We all have our proclivities, our likes, dislikes, loves, and hates. And I for one welcome them. For, how do we know the light of passion without the dark of revulsion? And the impulse to generate utterances, responses, and commentary is as old as cave-paintings, as natural as breathing. So, blog on bloggers! Comment commentators! Review (and re-view) reviewers! Masticate and ruminate and dispense discourse and opinions!

I may only post links & extensively quote the reviews that please me (my vanity presses me to assure the reader that we get WAY more positive than the negative genre) but that's my prerogative here on my cozy home blog. Sue me! I like to write rejection letters to rejection letters! I'm a critic too! I learned from my cat.

No Time for Seafood Cuz We are True Margrit of SF

2010-05-16T10:22:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 18th of the 2010 SXSW Haiku & BBQ Tour..a novella

Sunday, March 28th
I don't know what fare Andrew and Gary throw together for breakfast over at Gary's place, but here we indulge in good old-fashioned Sunday brunch carbs and fat. BACON! EGGS! CHEESE! BUTTER! TOAST! ELIXIRS!

Then I shower & then it's time to go. Just like that. We get to Bottom of the Hill and haul in the usual gear, plus a video projector and screen for the BIG "Syllable" Video Premier. Oooh. A birthday cake is cleverly arranged and acquired for Gary, thanks to heroic efforts by Mike. And...we are ready to go and the big show starts.

Palace Family Steakhouse are up first. This show is their guitarist, Brad's last gig, as he's moving to Boston. The band purveys an hysterically high-concept tribute to a real (although, now defunct) restaurant in the Mission. As it happens, Palace Family Steakhouse's empty shell sits less than a block from my home. It is closed now, and not really missed. It was simply a gross place to eat (and perhaps a wretched hive of scum and villainy)--but it's an epic place to sing about, without a doubt. The band does a medley of mostly Queen tunes with the lyrics adjusted to reflect a more steak-centric universe. At one point dancers dressed in cunning steak costumes appear and dance a pot-pie de deux. VERY entertaining. Fave moment: digging the lyrics in, "We are the Steakhouse"--which was to the tune/riffage of "We are the Champions". Instead of "no time for losers, cuz we are the champions of the world", Palace Family Steakhouse offers up: "no time for seafood cuz we are the steakhouse of the world." Nice. So uplifting.

I would be scared to try to follow such a performance, but Jill Knight is the perfect woman for the job! Joined by her star lineup of Pam Delgado & Jeri Jones and Rob Strom ( of Blame Sally & Pam & Jeri Show fame), Jill smoothly transitions the day from comedy-punk-opera to California folk-rock with that super bad-ass groove in which she specializes. AWESOME!

Next up is the music video premier of our song, "Syllable"! Sarah positions the screen and hits play. Why am I nervous?? No pressure! Just enjoy! I look around and listen to the laughter and applause. The crowd really digs it! YAY! Me too! it looks good big! GREAT JOB, directors Sarah Dunham & Chelsea Walton! You make us look good.

Then we leap up onstage and ROAR through our set. We feel the love flowing in a complete circuit: crowd to stage, stage to crowd, and it sure is great to be back in our hometown. As of late, we have been fond of starting shows with, "Make Them Beg"--so we play that first. BANG--! Other tunes from The Juggler's Progress follow in sound, fury, and blurs of light. Halfway into the tune, "The Juggler's Progress" (our album's title track, natch), I catch a glimpse of Dianne Nola working her way to the front of the room. She's wearing a very cute Heinz 57 sauce-themed outfit in honor of Gary's Heinz 57 Sauce Birthday. We add a few extra bars for her to do some tapdancing (that's her tapping on the album, too!). Her performance is relished by all. Then, all too soon we are done. We close our set with a full-octane version of "Syllable", after which my keyboard is thoroughly abused like a sacrificial lambchop, the stage is cleared, and the crowd sings, "Happy Birthday" to Gary. Cake is served at the merch table.

The final set set of the night comes from Clair and there is much moshing, fist-pumping, hooting and general hollering. The natives are pleased! Maria Stanford's powerhouse vocals rise above every series of terracing rock crescendos that her super-group delivers. Chills and thrills of the rock persuasion are experienced by one and all. They end their set taking a spin through, "Whole Lotta Love"--which perfectly rounds off this whole magical night. I'm not fooling.

Now that was a show, if I say so ourselves.

Many--but not all--participants repair to the True Margrit after-tour-party for libations, pizza, and socializing. Let is be said that it is not a terribly scandalous event, but nonetheless a proper party, with at least one guest adorably passed out on the couch, and two others whose degree of indulgences hampers the hand-eye coordination that would be required to pick up slices of fruit. In the end, all who are still inebriated take cabs home and no animals are harmed in the making of this party.

Margrit shuts the front door
The last guest has departed
"well, I'm back", she says

Live Long and Prospero

2010-05-13T08:27:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 17th of the 2010 SXSW Haiku & BBQ Tour..a novella

Saturday, March 27th
Today we finally get to see our kind Southern California host, the fabulously cool Lynn, which pleases us to no end. She seems genuinely happy about the Star Trek flask--she didn't have one yet! HAH! Excellent! We done good. She and Andrew do a bit of catching up, we all make sure to grab a shower, and then, sadly, we must take our leave.

We drive north. It is an absurdly pretty day. The golden state. They aren't joking. We thread through Malibu, and up up the coast past Santa Barbara. Man. The breakers roll in, the water is a profound indigo, the hills roll up and down and around decorated with luscious curly greenery. We've been to lots of exciting new places, but the California coast, well, it sure is a pleasure to travel here. Except--uh, are we out of gas? The next town? Sixty miles. Uh oh. Will we indeed run out of fuel and get stranded? Shipwrecked, as it were, here on this little isle of a truck, in the wilderness with visitations from strange phantoms sent by an old wise wily wizard named Prospero who's pissed off at his brother, due to court-related intrigues...no wait, that's the plot of The Tempest.

Our nailbiter comes to an end right when the final few wisps of fumes exit the carburetor. Phew. We're here--a town with a gas station. That was close. Gary and Andrew celebrate with some fast food sandwiches, but I opt for some Lara bars. For now...

It now appears we underestimated the time it will take to get to our venue in San Luis Obispo. So, when we arrive, we pretty much have time to set up, say hey to our friends (one of whom is Andrew's very first girlfriend from high school!), and start playing. I hastily down another protein bar and the bartender plies me with some enchanting hazelnutty beer. Well, ok, that's breakfast and lunch right there.

We launch into an epic set--the only really long show of the whole tour. It's really nice to stretch out and play some older tunes, such as: "All of the Atoms Strung Together", or somewhat current ones we've neglected as of late, like, "Girls Just Break Your Heart", and the brand new: "Obvious Solutions", and so on. But even an hour and a half set goes by like a blur, somehow, and once again we are hauling our gear back into the truck.

Now I am ready to eat a whole porpoise, so we ask for some dining suggestions from the doorman at our venue. He sends us to a pizzeria a few blocks away. It is perfectly adequate, but I can predict that I will be eating a mighty mighty big breakfast tomorrow in San Francisco. For we have decided to drive all the way back to San Francisco (even though it's four hours) rather than spend another night on the road. Andrew is looking kind of blurry and dazed so Gary takes the first shift at the wheel.

Two hours later, we make our last pit stop of the tour where Andrew buys yet another Rockstar to guzzle and thus fuel this last leg. At this point I'm beyond putting two syllable together and I drift in and out of oblivion, my face mashed into my pillow. And then it really happens. Really really. We are in San Francisco. It is 3:15 am. We wearily unload my stuff into my place. Then the guys speed off into the night.

I pour a glass of revivifying sparkiling water...yum. And, ooh, there's bacon in the fridge. Bless you Sarah! Tomorrow: breakfast = me eating bacon. But it's four a.m. and I have to be at soundcheck for our "Syllable" Video Premier (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY GARY & welcome home) show at Bottom of the Hill in 12 hours.

Waves beat at the door
The past's already prologue
To another show

Eighth Notes and a Pitcher of Beer

2010-05-11T16:51:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 16th of the 2010 SXSW Haiku & BBQ Tour..a novella

Friday, March 26th
In the morning we take the liberty of brewing some of Lynn's Taylors of Harrogate tea. Yum. Now, that's a proper English tea. In the resulting heightened caffeine-fueled state I hunker down in my room and finalize some lyrics to a new song: "Comforting the Castaways". For the next album...

Andrew and Gary do some work on their computers. We line up the shower queue, we all get to freshen up, dress for the gig; and before we know it, it's time to hit the 405 Freeway heading for to Santa Monica where we are playing tonight, at our current favorite Los Angeles indie-rock venue: Trip .

I have a little gold-chain necklace which has developed a knot, and I begin to obsess over it in the truck. I seem to tangle it worse the more I labor over it. DAMMIT. We get to the venue. The guys go in. I keep working on the knot. It's rather like songwriting--untying strands of metaphors. Or storylines. Or melodies and hooks and riffs. There's got to be a beginning, middle, and an end. When it describes that arc, well, that's when it's done... I almost have it. As I ruminate over this concept/ chore the dusk thickens and I can't see the damned necklace anymore. I give up and work on a setlist for tonight's show. Gary comes out to the truck to tell me there are excellent sandwiches to be had inside and offers to order me one--thanks, man!

Shortly, I go in to eat my dinner. Gary was right. The sandwich is no joke--a freshly grilled pannini with turkey & pesto & cheese. Hell yeah. Good timing-- I was feeling small and weak, we didn't really eat a meal today.

The first act goes on. There are a few people there for them. The second act goes on--and more listeners arrive. My sister---the amazing and outrageously talented writer, Mim Eichler Rivas shows up! YAY! My very own sis!!! Strolling in soon after her are the wonderful, hilarious, and wise Uncle P, and our dear friend and colleague, Niall Fordyce, one of the few and far-flung guitarists who have played with True Margrit in recent years. Then a whole crew of Andrew's high school friends mustered via Facebook arrive. And then his friend Betsey, who he met at Berklee School of Music, also makes an entrance. And then a standup comic friend of Gary's walks in. YES, now it's a real party! And the bar continues filling up. I have a pitcher of Stella Artois from which vessel nobody else seems to be partaking...what the hell? C'mon, help me out, y'all! But I promptly forget about these libational issues--it's time for us to play! We get up and roar through our first few tunes. Hello Santa Monica! Hello Santa Claus! Merry March! Weeeeeee! We play a particularly snappy version of "Blazing Wheel". Yes. That's right! And then we execute a handful of other tunes with extra gusto. When we get to the spot in, "500 Years" where the meter switches over to 7/8 for a few bars, I see both Niall and Betsey from Berklee looking downright joyous. But then, there's nothing like odd meter for a nice rambunctious statement of fact--like: we could hang out always in drab old 4/4...OR NOT! AH HA!

All too soon, we are done playing and we drag our gear out to the street to tear it down & re-pack the truck. We chat with the whole motley posse and make a plan to meet for some grub at fairly nearby deli (for, it is now hours since the fancy sandwiches). Some of the party falls away, but a goodly portion are waiting for us when we make it to the restaurant. We are a bit slow arriving, what with dealing with our equipage. And though we hardly want to admit it, but of course we got lost on the way there. The sting of the mortification is softened by the joy of communing with family & friends, and is further ameliorated by the matzo ball soup (the balm of generations). A moment of peace.

And I sigh.

Been Through the Desert on a Pizza with no Name

2010-05-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 15th of the 2010 SXSW Haiku & BBQ Tour..a novella

Thursday, March 25th
In the morning Ricky gets up and whips up a frittata for us all. Oh! Dreamy! We devour it gratefully and head over to the London Bridge. Yes, London Bridge. Oddly enough, a Victorian era Thames bridge from Londontown is here in Lake Havasu City, AZ. Weird and wonderful. We go and take a few pics. While I'm doing some (admittedly ridiculous) poses gesturing at and perhaps even straddling a statue, with Ricky (who is a serious pro photographer) snapping shots, a tourist comments, "that would look better if you faced the other way from the camera."

Ouch, sir. What is being implied? We all stare at him in disbelief--how rude! Andrew starts walking after him and haranguing him telling him he should never speak to women that way, who does he think he is, why is he creepy and inappropriate? Thanks Andrew, you are hero du jour. Well. Some folk don't know that dynamite comes in small packages.

On this peculiar note, we set out across the rugged lands. Soon we pass out of Arizona and into California. And on we go, our route passing just south of the Mojave National Preserve--a landscape not for the faint of heart, where only the toughest flora and fauna can flourish and the long miles are open to the sky, wind, sand and all they deliver.

And it's like. Oh. My. God. We are driving through the desert, right? And we are, like, TOTALLY thirsty. What's up with that?

We stop at a lonely gas station/ oasis for relief. They have two massive windmills and signs in their shop that warn patrons not to complain about the prices here, for, as the signage explains, the prices fairly reflect the cost of running this desert outpost, installing windmills, paying their staff. At any rate, we are grateful to them for providing this much needed stop in the desolate tracts of the Mojave. So be it. We continue on our route watching the horizon bake in the glare.

Finally, we hit Barstow and we select the local Sizzler for our lunching destination. Hey, the salad bar has actual veggies--it's better than...well, better than worse food. When our server learns from Andrew that we are a traveling band, she wants to take a photo with us. Naturally, we oblige. She informs us that this Sizzler is home to all the Barstow celebrity sightings. When actors are here in town shooting a film they eat here. She has quite a collection of pics of musicians and actors. She has met Vin Diesel and Lucy Liu--among other luminaries. She displays a few snapshots for us on her phone. Well then! It is very flattering to be included.

On we go. We witness the highway threading through scrubby sands, and the Joshua Trees swirling past. In time, the mountains rise up before us. And then, at long last we are descending into the mighty Los Angeles basin. The sun sets. Oh my, it's time for this drive to be over. We feel all dried up and withered and spent from the accumulated fatigue, duress, action/inaction of automotive travel, and desert air. Gratefully, we arrive at our hostess, Lynn's home and creep out of the truck gripping our luggage. Lynn, once again, is graciously letting us stay at her comfy home while we play gigs in L.A.. However, she is not here this evening and we are on our own reconaissance to figure out why when how and what foodstuffs we might nibble on before we hurl ourselves into the blessed beckoning oblivion of sleep.

Of course, we first log onto the internet for awhile. Then we discuss where to display the present for Lynn--Andrew found her a very shiny pretty Star Trek flask (she is a hardcore Trekkie). Should we leave it casually on the kitchen table, the shelf? Her dresser? Then we try to decide on a DVD to watch. The hour grows later. Now when the topic of dinner re-surfaces, we are all non-committal. Pizza seems to be the idea that appeals--but from where? Who delivers? Where are we? Can we agree on toppings? I'm partial to a mushroom-only pie, Andrew prefers a meat-festival and Gary--well, he's just more flexible about pizza. The discussion grows almost heated. We repair to different rooms in sheer exhaustion. From our various chambers it can be heard that we are all chuckling, too. After all, this is hilarious. A pizza battle. And it's just the Mojave talking. And two weeks of the road. And meat is gross on pizza. Finally, Gary starts making calls. No one will deliver. Or they are closed, or they don't take credit cards--or understand a word Gary says. Weird. Somehow it takes an hour to sort it out, but he prevails and now Gary is hero du jour--he successfully orders us a half veggie and half sausage/ pepperoni/ bacon pie that comes in forty-five minutes. We eat our slices peacefully in separate rooms. The pizza: not bad. We all feel a bit better at this point, with a certain sheepishness we say goodnight.

Land without pizza
There must be an oasis
Gary saves the day

Interview with a Hamburger

2010-05-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 14th of the 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--
(a novella)

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010
After far too little rest, we stir once again when the fancy coffee starts making itself known via celestial fragrances emanating from the kitchen. Teresa downs of the some elixir with the guys and sails off into her day. I dash a tear or two from my eye. Aww. Damn! It' been so very fun to see friends on this trip, but then it's over before you know it!

We get ourselves to an eatery. We need sustenance of the bacon & egg persuasion and then we need to get our sorry sleepy asses on the road, pronto. We have a long way to go to make our radio interview by 2:00 at Northern Arizona University's KJACK RADIO in Flagstaff. There are various reports on the driving time--some folks say three hours some predict five. But the experts agree: it all depends on the weather.

As soon as we get on the highway it starts snowing. Andrew is filming the snow flurries out the window with his phone, intoning in his best suspense-movie-trailer-narrator-voice: "The conditions: perilous. The temperature: dropping. The altitude: high. The time: short. The music: good". We all cackle. Another long day coming our way.

The snow, as it turns out, doesn't last long or stick on the road--and we zoom into Flagstaff pretty much on time (it took about four hours). We require remedial assistance finding the right building, but once a DJ meets us in the parking lot, and we are escorted safely to the station, we can feel relief that we have made it. Phew. The staff get us situated with chairs, headphones, and microphones, and we begin our interview. We do a full fun one-hour show and good times are had by all, with Music Director Ben Wake interviewing us and spinning tunes from our CDs, and Stan helping him out and the rest of the whole cool team supporting the production technically and otherwise.

I record a station ID after the show & then ask the KJACK team the ever important question. Where can we eat? Ben hesitates not one instant. "Diablo Burger". He says. And we listen.

And we aren't sorry once we are biting into the succulent local grass-fed beef burgers served on English muffins with the Diablo logo burned right into the bread in an extra special bonus classy touch... and for those of you who just tuned in: we are talking with a Diablo burger from Flagstaff, Arizona. Hi DB! You are just delicious! Well, you're welcome! So, DB, where do you draw inspiration? What are your biggest influences? Who is the best chef frying up burgers today? What's your favorite song? Oh. Sorry, I ate you.

We have one more leg of travel left for today's trip, so it is good we have eaten so heartily. We also stock up on some good-looking chocolates from a nice Flagstaff candy-store. After all, chocolate is the preferred post-hamburger food group. We begin nibbling it in the truck right away.

Fully-loaded on protein and sugar, we head west with zest. We are to stay with Gary's great bud, Ricky, in Lake Havasu City tonight. Just three hours away...or well, maybe more. The sun sets over the high mountain desert. It's another XTC evening. Andrew & Gary sing along. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that familiar with the XTC oeuvre, but I dig them mightily when I hear them. And thus, we are all chilling, enjoying the tunes until we near Lake Havasu and we try to follow the web-generated directions to Ricky's abode. We are directed in a very wide loop that ultimately deposits us at exactly the same intersection of the same thoroughfare where we exited the highway. HELLS BELLS! This detour costs us almost a month. A year! A DECADE! Finally, we call and Ricky talks us through the proper route to his house. And thus, we park and we drag in our belongings. In our spent state, we exhibit poor posture slouching wearily at his table, though we are not so weak and tired as to be unable to enjoy snacking on the delightful array of treats he has provided for our delectation. Nor to preclude the quaffing of refreshing beverages. Oh yes. Thank goodness for you, Ricky!

It is not long before I excuse myself and head to my room--for tonight we all have separate chambers. Yes. This is deluxe.

However, it is late and tomorrow: to California! So, right now: to dreamland.

Dynamite Comes in Small Packages

2010-05-04T10:32:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 13th
of THE 2010 SXSW MARCH into SPRING HAIKU & BBQ TOUR--a novella

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010
I wake up and smell the coffee. Fancy coffee. Teresa's roommate, Heinz has a super-cool uber high-tech coffee-maker that can be set to have a steamy frothy beverage ready at any specified appointed hour. Apparently, it roasts the beans, then grinds them, then brews a single immaculate cup, one at a time. Then it darns your socks, feeds the cat, answers your emails, saves the planet from trash-piles, and writes an award-winning one-act play for your consideration.

Maybe I drifted back off and dreamed that last part. I emerge from my sleeping-bag nest, yawning & stretching.

Teresa goes off to work while Andrew & Gary drink perfect coffees. We all get out our laptops and engage in a variety of computing activities. Eventually, our fancy turns lightly to thoughts of breakfast. On our friend Iris's recommendation we hit the Frontier Restaurant--to which we can walk from our Albuquerque home base. Very convenient. We all order and devour items with green chilies--and we are satisfied....for now. There are more more chilies out there in this town, just waiting to be devoured. And we are the hungry-for-spice band for the job. Yep.

The remaining time left before the gig is taken up with:
1) Gary & Andrew's fabulous new hat purchases at Lobos Men's Store.
And:
2) A bit more laptopping for the guys. I workout whilst singing & warming up my voice--one of my favorite multi-tasking approaches to life on the road.
AND:
3) Planning and then eating dinner with our dear friend Kimberlee who has taken our quest for a proper New Mexican meal seriously. She guides us to an establishment that provides chilies--both green AND red in abundance--smothering various delectables (for example: tamales, enchiladae, and such). She also instructs us on the finer points of sopaipillas: how to put honey in the sopaipilla, then pick up a bite of, say, green-chili enchilada with the honeyed sopaipilla, and then munch morsels of conflicting-yet-harmonious flavors all together now. YES! We like. And thus fortified with spicy foods, we head to our show at
The Orchid Chamber--a groovy Hookah Lounge with cushy seats, moody lighting, and much sweetly-scented tobacco in the air.

We set up on the stage (actually, it's an area that's appears to be designed to be a private booth, which gives more of a vantage point to an array of hookahs than the crowd--but I decide to assume that these inanimate objects really dig me) and we rock some tunes from The Juggler's Progress + more. I see flashes from cameras and various video cameras rolling, so I know we are being well-documented. Good. As it should be.

After our set we receive some glowing commentary from the listeners. Especially effusive is the doorman. He tells me, "I really love your band, and you are just great! Dynamite comes in small packages!". First, this phrase makes me think of green chilies--but then, while I reflect on how flattering this statement really is, he adds "I should know". And thus, we get to bond over being short--he is none too tall, although not as short as me.

Presently, I sit down with Teresa, Rebekkah, and Kimberlee. Rebekkah points out that next time we come through, we should stay with her at her capacious abode--there would be separate rooms for all band mates. Ooh, no earplugs, no drummer banished to the front porch for extra-loud snoring. Heaven! We hastily improvise a haiku about it.

When this year's next year
In Albuquerque again
At Rebekkah's, yo.

But one hopes, this soaring poetry will not even appear to belittle our fine hosts--we are more than ecstatic to be staying with Teresa and Heinz and the fancy coffee-maker. And when we return to Teresa's we run an extension cord out to the porch so Andrew can have a little heater going out there. It's really quite cozy.

Meanwhile, Gary & I are crashing again in the living room. Unfortunately, he is awakened repeatedly by explosive sinus noises I'm producing as a result of breathing/singing in the hookah-smokey environment (and possibly the higher altitude in Albuquerque). He tosses pillows down onto my pallet from his perch on the couch, but to no avail. I snore on. Dynamite comes in small packages.

Wilting at WIndmills

2010-05-03T00:45:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 12th of the 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--a novella

Monday, March 22nd, 2010
Tell me why I don't like Mondays? Today, it's chiefly due to the sad reality of getting up so early. We imbibe caffeinated beverages with our hosts, thank them profusely for putting us up /putting up with us, we return all our possessions to the truck, and with collective deep breaths we start into a very long travel day. Across Texas we go. The sun gets higher. We are making good time. We are cooking with gas. We have the proverbial pedal to the metal. We are totally lost. Serves us right for operating under the aegis of so many travel cliches. We realize we are heading towards Dublin (Texas, not Ireland)) instead of Abilene. Dang.

We pull over in a cute little town--Comanche, maybe? I take pictures of an appetizing doughnut shop while Gary consults all two maps we have. He figures out a route to get us back on the way to Abilene. We zip along the amended route and only lose half an hour...or so. It's cool. It's cool. We are going to the home of our Albuquerque host, Teresa, and she will be fine with our updated arrival time--as long as it doesn't get pushed back too many times.

As we get hungrier, we fondly recall last night's mighty meaty meal. Andrew philosophically notes in haiku form:

"Happy happy cows
Do not know what is in store
Yummy yummy cows"

So true, Andrew. So true.

When we are an hour out of Abilene Gary logs on to the internet to do a search for a catfish restaurant. We haven't had fried catfish yet. And time's a-wastin. We won't be in Texas much longer. He compiles information and maps and triangulates the results. His plan works like so many highly advanced quartz crystal satellite-telescope clockworks all chiming in harmony with the accuracy of a super high-tech Moon colony of the not too distant future.

1400 hours
True Margrit approaches Abilene from the south on Texas State Highway 84, merging on Busness Loop 20, then exiting from the Business Loop at Pine Street.
1415 hours
True Margrit is seated in Joe Allen's Restaurant. The band orders food.
1500 hours
Band very very full. Fried catfish is the star, but the homemade breads are divine as well.

After our feast we take a look around at all of Joe Allen's horse-racing memorabilia. He's the owner of Pepper's Pride--a record-breaking thoroughbred with 17 consecutive wins! Wow, cool. But we can only delay the inevitable so long--we must get back in the truck and get to New Mexico.

We heave ourselves back into the groaning vehicle and speed off across west Texas. We pass some windmills. Then more windmills. Then more. I snap some photos of their shiny white hi-tech aerodynamic forms standing proudly on the prairie against blue skies festooned with fat fluffy clouds. More windmills. That's way more than Beggar's Canyon back home, uh, I mean the Central Valley, in California. We check into it. The web informs us that we are passing through the Horse Hollow Wind Energy Center, which is the largest wind farm in the world. Splendid. It's pretty to look at--AND it's GREEN. Right here in Texas. The future. Catfish, windmills, alive alive-oh. I melt into my pillow for a power-nap. sidghkjkgjkjsfg

I awake to a discussion between Andrew & Gary with liberal use of coding/html, nomenclature. I instantly drift off again. I dream that under duress the band must join a cult located at "the other house" of the folks we met in Granbury (who are super-nice, I must point out, in real-life and not at all cultish). To escape we have to make use of guitar picks on a rotary telephone. We can't get a dial tone and I shout,"help!" and then in reality I wake up. The guys are very quiet, just driving along...did I actually yell? On this trip Gary has already informed me that I snore--but do I also talk in my sleep? I sure hope not.

The sun is setting over some mesas. Hey! We are in New Mexico! We listen to some XTC--a favorite of Andrew's. After a few more hours, we arrive in Albuquerque where we get snarled up with our routing and temporarily drive in the opposite direction. Oh. My. God. NO no no. Personally, I might burst into tears. Or flames. Gary cradles his head in his hands. Andrew is a driving machine, but at this juncture, even he is starting to wilt.

Luckily, we are soon enough driving back towards Albuquerque, and in moments we are reunited with our lovely friend, Teresa. Acting the fabulous hostess, she makes sure we are instantly drinking revivifying beverages--and that we are receiving the proper gentle ridicule for our ever-weakening route-finding abilities that appear to be declining in direct proportion to our expanding fatigue.

And now we all can sigh in relief, pleased to be out of the truck and faced with the prospect of extended quality time on pillows in the immediate future.

The Ideal Texas BBQ Moment

2010-05-01T10:16:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 11th in the 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour-a novella

Sunday, March 21st
I awake in the zone of 10:00 am, not entirely sure where I am, or why...hmmm. Oh yes. Rock music. In Texas. The band is True Margrit and they're out spreading the word about their album "The Juggler's Progress". It all sounds familiar. I try it on for size. Yes. It fits.

And now. Perhaps it is time to get up and forage for some strong black tea.

I emerge to a Sunday morning bustle. Our hosts are getting ready for a trip overseas, but we are going to tear them away from their preparations for a bit, for we have a lunch date in the early afternoon at Austin's much-lauded Tex-Mex restaurant, Maudie's. YUM!

I hang out and chat with Julie for a bit. The laptops of all who are present litter the dining room. The internet is utilized. Showers are taken. Phone calls are made. And it's now time for lunch.

We progress in caravan-style to Maudie's. There is a wait, but we are assured it's worth it. There's a Goodwill Shop nearby so Gary & I opt to peruse the wares until our table is called. In due course, we get our table, we sit down & order, and our food arrives. Although I was instructed by many friends to get migas in Austin, I am swayed by the prospect of mushroom enchiladas. I'm not disappointed. They are all that I love--cheesy, corny, savory, mushroomy. I also love the chips--super thin and super crispy. I have heard diners refer to properly prepared deep-fried food as "light" when the item is:
1) crunchy
2) not visibly dripping with oil

Personally, I think this is ridiculous. Don't fool yourselves! It cannot in any caloric sense be calculated accurately as light--it's deep fried! But it can be delicious. Like these chips dipped in the Maudie's salsa. Very addictive, very tasty.

We go back to the house. Andrew fluffs a pillow, lies back on the couch, and composes himself for an afternoon nap. Gary retires upstairs as well. I receive phone calls that lead to a spontaneous mini-Oak Ridge reunion. David Snyder AND Jeanie Haber drop by and we all have a dandy old time catching up.

The shadows lengthen. Talking is hungry work--the time has come. The votes are in. Five out of six Austin residents agree that The Salt Lick is the best BBQ in town--except it's not exactly in town. It's a bit of a drive to the highly recommended location. Jeanie must depart. Julie & David have dinner plans with their daughter. But David Snyder is in. And thus the members of a very sleep-deprived band (plus David Snyder) go on a drive on the band's one day off. In the name of The Ideal BBQ Moment.

We get to The Salt Lick after dark. Nighttime adds to its mystique. The pit is so massive I imagine it as a circle of Hell, and the cooks with their utensils are like demons with pitchforks heaving the mighty slabs of beef like unshriven souls being forced closer to the flames. Amen.

We can't narrow down our desires, so we pretty much order one of everything they have--except turkey. Turkey is where we draw the line. The meats and sides all come out simultaneously and it is all truly a glorious array of Americana in edible form. But the baby-back ribs are the best of all--texture: succulent, flavor: sweet salty smokey tart rich--all at once. We all moan voluptuously. There is no way we can eat all this. Not even. The remaining food stuffs two of the extra-large takeout vessels completely to the brim.

Julie has retired but David is still awake when we return. He had demurred when we offered to bring them something from The Salt Lick. But when we hand over the leftovers he eagerly clutches the containers, his eyes alight.

And he sighs.

An Outing with Batman & Robin

2010-04-28T22:37:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 10th in the 2010 SXSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--a novella
Saturday, March 20th , 2010

Morning comes really soon when you go to sleep at 4:30 am. Ye gods! What were we thinking? Well... hellfire. We start the shower queue while Michelle & Kurt fry up eggs, and butter toast, and brew coffee. Bless them.

There is no wiggle room on departure time today. We have to get to Dallas for an in-store appearance and it's in an hour. Then we have a four hour (ish) drive to a ten o' clock show in San Antonio. Are we insane? Probably. Shut up.

We pile into the vehicles and pull out of the garage. I'm riding to Dallas with Kurt and Michelle--a welcome break from the claustrophobia of my jumper-seat nest in Andrew's truck...or is it claustrophilia under which I operate...? Hmm.

We arrive at our first venue (Bill's Records--yes a REAL record store!!) and a solo performer (KEG) is making real-life-hair-metal magic. He's rocking out on his axe to drum-loops, flicking his tongue in time to manic double kick drum patterns, leaping perilously off the stage virtually into the arms of the groovy dads & their kids and a couple of substantial-looking biker-types--and our handful of fans---all who appear to be quite genuinely entertained. We're up next.

As I carry in gear I receive the first in a series of reactions to the t-shirt I happened to throw on this morning. It features an image of Batman & Robin making out with the general outline of their embrace cleverly forming a fat red heart encircling the whole romantic moment (it's rather sweet). A sixty-something fellow sees the shirt and delivers a small soliloquy about how jealous he is of me living in San Francisco where anyone can be anything they want-- unlike here in Texas--and then he bursts into tears. I hug him, wondering at the long tale of sorrows that a human might endure alone. I swear.

Excusing myself, I go to the restroom to dab at my eyes, put on some fresh eyeliner, pull myself together. This is the whole point of going on the road: to really connect with new people. And it could enlighten you. Or break your dang heart.

Meanwhile, Keg winds up his set with a stage-dive that almost lands him in the cash register--and now it's time for True Margrit. We play some tunes and hand out stickers to all the kids. A few adults take them too--who doesn't like stickers? And we have some pretty ones. The kids laugh when I jump on the keyboard. We wind up our set, tear down, pack up the truck. We know we need to get on the road, but it's hard to say goodbye to Kurt & Michelle--they've traveled many miles with us, listened to three shows, and hosted us in their home. Oh hell. Here we go. Bye, y'all!!

We are instantaneously lost. DAMMIT ALL! It happens to be near Lamar Street. Every town in Texas has a Lamar Street & we ALWAYS get lost near it. Seriously. LAMAR!

But we right ourselves quickly and speed off for points southwest. As we near Austin we start seeing the billboards for a BBQ restaurant that sports a cartoon of a distraught-looking bovine beast. Andrew lets out an anxious moo that goes with the image. It makes us all cackle hysterically. It's going to be a long day.

We stop for fuel at a massive restaurant/gift-shop/gas-station. The wind is blowing unpleasantly cold gales off the lonesome plains. We hurry inside. They have BBQ. Hmmm. We are actually hungry. Predictably, we are soon all sitting down to a gas-station BBQ lunch. It is good! But no, it's not Andrew's Ideal Texas BBQ Moment. Not yet.

We drive on. I doze off with my face mashed into my pillow. Oof. We stop for fuel and I buy some revivifying chocolate. The cashier says to me,"Heh heh. where's you get that shirt?" I laugh & confess to him that I stole it from my roommate. Batman & Robin continue to be an icebreaker today.

The sun sets. We are still two hours from San Antonio--at least. We drive on. I warm my voice up singing along to some Led Zeppelin. The guys are patient.

We finally pull in to our venue, Gig-On-The-Strip around 9:00 pm. It's a funky fun storefront space packed with mis-matched couches, Indian bedspreads, strings of X-mas lights. Some nights it ends up being an all-ages hangout for students going to UTSA & other local schools/colleges. Ruben, the proprietor greets us jovially and gives us bottles of water. I settle into a couch to write a setlist. Andrew heads to the bar next door to get a before-gig beer.

When he returns we drag our gear through the back door. It swings shut and locks us out several times and one of us has to go sheepishly around to the front door. Fooled me once, twice...oops.

The first act goes on--3D Friends --a singer/performer with cool loops, effects, excellent melodies, and a sweet tenor. He informs the crowd that this is his first gig-- wow, well, he's a natural! He's followed by the very talented James Merryman, a Harry Potter-esque singer-songwriter and keyboardist with great ease as a performer and wizardly levels of moxie.

And then it's our turn. We place our gear onstage and have at it. Instead of our road weariness dominating the set, some devil-may-care late-night fury has taken possession of us and we hurl ourselves into the grooves, and the melodies mean something new for this exact moment in this city, on this planet, right here and now. I see all eyes in the room riveted on us and suddenly every beat is expanded into a long history of boisterous rhythm, sound, and vibrations. We rock the house.

I exit my keyboard at the end of the set and a young woman reclining upon a velvety couch catches my eye and says: "Flawless". Wow--thanks! I love that kind of review! A few more comments of a glowing persuasion are offered to us from others. NICE!

A guy at one table asks, "hey what's on your t-shirt?"

I say, "Batman & Robin sharing a special moment...I'm so glad those lonely superheroes found each other. I just wish The Dark Knight could make an honest man of the Boy Wonder." The table chuckles. Hey! I'm here all week. Well...only another hour, actually.

I hang by the merch table. One well-coiffed youth approaches and wants to know if I've seen the movie, "Milk". I tell him I did see it & that in fact, I saw at the Castro Theatre near where Harvey Milk had his famous camera shop. He looks pleased about this story and then he buys our CD. We shake hands companionably, if somewhat formally. Folks are quite polite here in Texas.

We pack the truck. Once the adrenaline starts to wear off, I am ravenous. Gary & Andrew are non-committal about their current food needs, but I ask Ruben for a Mexican restaurant recommendation. He draws a wee map to his fave place and send us on our way. With this power of suggestion Gary & Andrew are soon on board for this last stop before we finish the today's giant travel loop. After a few false starts we find the eatery and settle in to a table. The guys both order an ultra-turbo-mucho-meat burrito with bacon, pork, beef, and --god knows, a turducken, maybe. I get two tacos-- a veggie one and a potato chorizo one. They are, like a buck and half each.... wow! Cheaper than the Mission in San Francisco! The chips are super crunchy, thin, and perfect and with the garlicky salsa, quite heavenly.

After the edge of hunger is taken off, we look around the room. How about that--the place is filled mostly with guys on dates with each other. It's as if San Francisco's Mission and Castro Districts had gotten married-- a straight-up traditional taqueria that can't even think straight. Oh yeah--I remember then that Ruben had mentioned to us that the gay bars were letting out & the restaurant would be packed. It's a proper environment for Batman & Robin. Interestingly enough, nobody here comments on my shirt.

Satisfied from our delectable repast we pile in our trusty vehicle and turn northwards to Austin--and Julie & David's comfy home and the beds that beckon like beacons. There we will sleep in. And tomorrow is our only day off (on this entire trip) from BOTH gigging AND driving. And it's Sunday. God bless America.

The Wilds of Texas

2010-04-26T12:49:00.000-07:00

Being Chapter the 9th of The 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--a novella

March 19th, 2010
After such an arduous day-unto-night, we can't help but arise this morning only partially refreshed. But we are nonetheless ready to conquer the wilds of Texas. Tonight we have an adventure in store--a trip to an appealingly artsy-sounding venue called Studio 216 in the town of Granbury, TX. We head out as early as possible--that is, around 2:00 pm.

Soon enough, we are lost. As Andrew & Gary negotiate the discrepancies between real life highways versus web-derived maps, I log on to the internet. To my delight I learn that a journalist for the Las Vegas Weekly--April Corbin--was at our show at Boomers the week before and has written a piece called: "Hey, there’s a band--and someone humping a piano". Hey, she really likes us! I read the article to the guys, and we are all cheered by this good press in Vegas. Lady Luck, indeed.

This encourages us to carry on with our expedition--we can do this! But all around us are only fields and picturesquely grazing cows...and no township of Granbury in sight. The sun is going down. The cattle grow strangely sinister. Are they carnivorous? What if this venue is fictitious? What if we can't find Granbury? What if we run out of gas? What if we have to find a ranch and barter for food and shelter? What if the only way to procure dinner and a place to sleep puts me at the tender mercies of a ranching family's grown-up daughter who is not interested in Andrew & Gary, but takes an uncommon shine to me.

The farmer's daughter
I had to take one for the team
Don't be mad baby

Luckily, we soon drive into Granbury's cute historic-looking town square. Phew-- well, that's a relief. Nearby is Studio 216 which is in a house converted into a recording studio/ performance space and the folks there are delighted to meet us, telling us they can't wait to hear True Margrit. Sweet! They send us down the street to the "other house"--apparently a husband and wife team run this whole deal, and they feed everyone at their home before the show. How totally groovy! We walk in the rambling old home and there are hugs all around as though we'd met many times before and we are guided to the kitchen to dish ourselves up servings of roast pork and taters. Then we are directed to a big table in a grand old dining room that feels homey or haunted or both. There is all manner of crackers & cheeses & cookies laid out for ready consumption. More snackings! Our hosts tell us to help ourselves and let us know we can crash here this evening if we need a place to stay. Then they wander off to settle back in on the long front porch in the Texas dusk, leaving us with two teenaged girls and a boy who smile at us companionably and return to their conversation.

Once we are filled with succulent pork and tasty tubers, we walk back to the venue. The show was ostensibly to start at 7:30 it's now 8:15, but nobody seems to mind--not the staff or the customers. Everyone is here to hang out shooting the proverbial breeze with friends, to enjoy music and have fun. No pressure.

The first act is about to go onstage and I wander outside for a peep at the stars. For no particular reason, I suddenly feel fragile, small, and far from home. I swear. Even the constellations are bigger in Texas. I make a few phone calls to various friends and siblings but nobody's home. Oh...yeah. It's two hours earlier on the west coast. Finally, I catch Heather on the phone. We chat and have a larf or two. Awwww. She always cheers me up.

After I'm done with this bolstering phone call, I go back inside and grab myself a beer. There now, that's better. The next band--Trouble in the Wind--are in mid-set. I check out their tunes with relish--they are original, catchy, and have very cool lyrics. Their terribly handsome mustachioed lead singer (Robby Gira) radiates the charisma of a tragic poet from a costume drama bio-pic about Rimbaud, Keats, or Baudelaire--but with rootsy rock. I'm captivated. Don't be mad, baby.

Their set ends and now we are on deck. We get our trusty instruments onstage. The backdrop is a large unframed canvas conveying a moody orange dusk populated by a migrating flock of blackbirds. With the fictional fires of this sunset influencing us, we burn through the songs like sparks among so much kindling. HELLS YEAH! The crowd makes us feel welcome and loved, and thus incited, we play the best that this moment allows. Time expands and contracts, the music thunders and pulses and presently our show is done. We start the packing of the truck.

While he tears down his drums in the parking lot, Andrew chats with his good friends Kurt and Michelle. These fine folks are planning on hosting us in their home tonight once we leave Granbury and head...north? East? Hmmm? I receive high fives and knuckle bumps from departing listeners. Gary organizes the merch-case and packs it away. We maintain an unhurried pace as we work-- we are conserving some vital juice. For tomorrow's itinerary promises another intricate Texas adventure map that may demand much of our will and yet reward us in soul-expanding ways we cannot possibly foresee.

But though it is now past 1:00 am, the night is not over yet. We are invited back to "the other house" for some post-gig snacking for which the members of True Margrit & Kurt & Michelle are all game. So, after the gear is stowed we convene at the homestead where we see many of the same folks who were at the show. They are mostly local youths helping themselves to a yam casserole from the oven or sampling more meat & taters & drinks & slices of cake. The homeowners occasionally appear and nod pleasantly at the gathering and pass through to another chamber. There is good-natured banter and a giddy late night buzz that comes from the shared experience of staying up late in the name of rock. We catch glimpses of members of the other bands as they whisk mysteriously around corners into various nooks, crannies & niches of this rambling dwelling. I guess they are all crashing here tonight...

However, we soon must depart, as we have miles to drive to get back to... where are we going? I'm not entirely sure where Kurt and Michelle live. I do know that it's closer to our next gig than Granbury is, and that's why we are heading there. And because we can catch up more with Kurt and Michelle. And because that is where we will soon rest our rock-weary heads.

Chapter 8-Unnatural Selection

2010-04-20T23:26:00.000-07:00

(Being Chapter the 8th of True Margrit's 2010 March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--a novella)

March 18th, 2010
Around 9:30 a.m. I crack open an eyelid and remember---ooh, today is THE BIG DAY
(well, there are other BIG DAYS but this is one). First, we have a meeting with our radio promoter at the Austin Hilton and he says he just may have some good news for us--which makes us feel famous. Then we have time to gather our wits and perhaps sample some Texas BBQ delicacies--and then at 7:30 we play our first gig at South by Southwest at Darwin's Pub.

When I come downstairs Andrew is already on coffee number two and is all situated on Julie & David's dining room table, his laptop whirring. Witness the early bird in action, generating websites like so many feathery nests! And also tweeting with avian abandon about True Margrit.

I drink some tea, raiding Julie & David's jar of fancy honey. Yum! I reflect upon the phenomenon of humans eating bee secretions, it's all natural...if you're a being known as bee. For humans, it's an unnatural selection. And I perversely relish that.

Gary emerges from his esteemed repose and in moments we are all tapping away companionably at our laptops. Soon enough this scene of cozy domesticity must end--it is time to line up the shower queue. Despite my laggardly morning behavior we get out of the house and into the truck and on the way in a more or less timely manner.

When we get to downtown Austin it is catastrophically slow driving around, what with the hordes of festival participants milling about en route to shows, panels, and appointments with plates of smoked pork. Andrew is getting mildly flustered. Where to leave the truck? Andrew wildly inflates the likely number of garages we will find in which to park. We bicker about it in haiku.

Parking garages
Billions is hyperbolic
Probably. Shut up

We park in the Marriot garage, we get ourselves to the Austin Hilton, we meet our music biz contact, and we ceremoniously sign some papers that could be the first steps that lead to... well, I don't want to jinx it, but we might get songs on TV! We'll see. Our finger are crossed and hope is detectable in the spring air. Or is that BBQ?

After this propitious occasion, we go to the Blind Pig Pub and visit the Performers' Booth to sign in at the Red Gorilla Fest. Red Gorilla is one of the numerous satellite events that orbits South by Southwest, caught in the gravitational pull of this behemoth rock festival phenomenon. The Red Gorilla organizers are super nice and generously direct us to the Blind Pig's back deck. There is free food, live music, free ear plugs being handed out, and apparently some celebrity is taking pics with fans... we go upstairs to investigate. Gary & I graze on the meat & veggies being offered, but Andrew is apparently saving himself for the Ideal Texas BBQ Moment. He disappears for a bit. He comes back presently to inform us that if we want to queue up, we can take photos with the guy who played Mini Me--it's some promotional offer via an a earplug company, or caffeine drink, or--who knows really. We get in line and I have a camera at the ready to capture the shot of our shaved-headed rhythm section posing with this recognizable celeb, with his similar coiffure. In a moment, Andrew comes back chagrined. Gary looks disgusted.

"Oops," Andrew chuckles. "I called him, 'Mr Me'-- I was trying to be respectful and all--and then he wouldn't take a photo with us cuz I don't know his real name..."

"Did you not know his name either?" I ask Gary. Gary shrugs no. Oh well. I hear someone nearby whisper, "Verne Troyer, y'all!". We move on to another venue...one with great BBQ, perhaps.

We wander about taking in the sights, sounds and smells of daytime South by Southwest. Festival-goers are already drinking, musicians are playing tunes, the crowds are listening to tunes-- some are starting to look a bit worse for the wear...hmmm, and it's only Thursday. We run into a San Francisco duo, The Ferocious Few, playing on the street next to The Hot Dog King. I have heard them playing many times in my hood (most memorably on Election Night 2008 at one of the zillions of spontaneous street parties in San Francisco celebrating the big regime change). Gary recently mastered their CD, so he says hey to them.

Lunch is a hard decision with so many tantalizing options from which we must select a single experience--almost an unnatural selection to be forced to make--but after all, we only have one stomach each. We finally settle on sandwiches at a BBQ stand that has a fragrant mini-smokehouse behind their counter/ truck. As we sit enjoying our tasty-as-hell pulled pork, we see more San Francisco friends! David Katznelson of Birdman Records happens by with his wife and they hang out chatting for a few moments. How about that! Maybe if we sit still eating we will see more San Francisco compatriots passing by...

After lunch we visit an Austin treasure: the Tears of Joy hot sauce store. Gary & Andrew are hot sauce connoisseurs, so we are here for quite a spell, as they try the samples, ask question, and shop. I witness a hot sauce incident-- one of the proprietors dares a young man to try a toothpick-tip sized drop of some hot sauce that is basically pepper spray. The guy tries it, then starts coughing, then runs out on the street, coughing violently, then comes back in and buys a pint of milk (conveniently available in the cooler). After the milk his coughing subsides. Whoa. Gary tries a minuscule taste of the danger-sauce also from the tip of a toothpick--his eyes go slightly wider, but he otherwise keeps his cool. He points out that perhaps she gave the other guy more of the fiery stuff. She is impressed. Gary shrugs humbly--he is a pro. Andrew and he both joyously buy some various rare hot sauces. I observe all the foregoing with amused detachment. Hot sauces are definitely one of those perverse unnatural selections--but not mine.

It is now time to get to our venue. We accomplish the necessary juggling of gear to Darwin's Pub from the parking garage. As I labor round the corner from 6th Street with the burden of my keyboard, I see our friend, the fabulously talented singer/ keyboardist, Kevin Seal of the San francisco band, Griddle!! WOW! He gallantly grabs my keyboard from me and takes it to the club. Thanks, man! Then like a puff of smoke, he's off into the night--he's the head of the video department for Pandora and he has a LOT to document here in Austin.

In due course, we set up our gear and play our set. During the evening here at Darwin's, the crowd has ebbed and flowed with the festival's intricate and multifarious tides, but towards the last third of our set, listeners have filled in the remaining seats to check us out. We end the set with a febrile version of "Syllable" and I jump off the stage to high-five almost everyone standing or sitting by the stage. I love adrenaline. In honor of our venue's (possible) namesake, Charles Darwin, I invoke adrenaline as a TOTALLY natural selection which I can enjoy either perversely or non-perversely. Come to think of it, when saber-toothed tigers chased my ancestors, they who were the most hopped up on adrenaline survived to generate scions who could make more scions who could in turn become adrenalized whilst making music even though saber-toothed tigers are now extinct and there is no tangible need for fight or flight. Thus, becoming adrenalized while playing rock music is both a natural and an unnatural selection. Yep.

During our set I spotted my dear old friend from Oak Ridge, Tennessee, David Snyder listening and smiling. After the show he and I have a blast catching up on old and new times. We wander about Austin watching street performers and chatting.

At this point it has been HOURS since the BBQ lunch, so True Margrit and David Snyder deem it is high time we go out for Vietnamese food. I am feeling the sense of relief that washes over one after a big gig. I devour a massive plate of noodles. Yum. Someone tells a joke or perhaps an amusing anecdote. I laugh so hard my contact lens flips into a little ball way up in the farthest northern reaches of my eyelid. Ouch..it is time to go home.

We get lost briefly on the way back to Julie & David's house. DAMMIT! it's hard on the old pride to call for help--again. But soon enough we are back at our current base camp and I'm able to extricate the crinkled contact lens from my eye and give my beleaguered eyes a good rinse with saline solution.

Phew. And with clean eyes, full stomach, and ringing ears I slumber.

Chapter 7-Fathers and Sons and Mothers and Daughters and Chicken and Waffles

2010-04-14T10:53:00.000-07:00

(Being Chapter the 7th of the 2010 SxSw March into Spring Haiku and BBQ tour--a novella)

At the very crack of dawn--well, ok it's already 8:30---we all shuffle kitchenwards from whence the fragrance of coffee is emanating and Kenneth is cranking out Julia Child-style omelets. Oh. Yes. I have been working on my JC omelet technique--and I'm not bad at it. But as we learned on the previous tour, Andrew TOTALLY has it down. And Kenneth's version of the JC omelet, we learn today, is damned good, too.

I start quoting my favorite lines from the "Omelet Show" episode of Julia Child's 1960s show, The French Chef (I recently watched it at home, as I have the dvd set).
"Wait until the butter FOAMS, but don't let it BURN or it will taste CHEAP!" I squeak out my weak impersonation... Heh heh, terrible. But Meryl Streep portraying Julia Child in "Julie and Julia"--now, that is TOTAL genius. Dude.

We all munch on our omelets and toasts companionably. We chat & chat & smile & laugh and it's getting a wee bit later than we ever intended to leave. Oops. But it's my Aunt! My Uncle! MY MOMMY! They are amusing. And they are family. Finally we tear ourselves away. Bye, Mom! I love you--see you this summer in Portland at my cousin's wedding!! Mom looks a bit teary and I blink away a tear or three myself...

It's after 10:00. Uh oh. We have a house of cards schedulewise, with two different appointments in two different cities...we will just do out best. Off we hurry, and of course we are once again foiled by the disharmony between Texas roads and web-generated maps. HELLFIRE!

Then, when I call to warn the radio station folks at KANM in College Station, TX that we will be a teeny bit on the late side, there seems to be some question as to whether they even remember we are on the way. Uh oh. And then at about two hours into this four hour drive, Andrew gets a very unexpected call from his biological father, who suggests that they meet-- tonight--he's been following the band's progress on Facebook. They have never spoken before, but he lives nearby, well sort of--two hours from Austin, anyway. It could happen...mind-blowing.

Meanwhile, will we get to our radio interview on time? We scramble. We arrive in College Station. The staff of KANM scrambles, too. The Music Director, Grant, interrupts a nap to come interview us and play some True Margrit tunes for the listeners. All is well. And then we skip off to Austin-- we have our first SxSW event to attend. We are trying to get to town before 6pm for a party thrown by our distributor, BURNSIDE DISTRIBUTION CORP. And maybe if there's time, Andrew will meet his father...??

We do make it into town in time to catch the last band playing at the party. It's the reunion of a locally legendary punk band who beef up their stage show with the special guest appearance of a gymnastically skilled exotic dance troupe dressed skimpily and employing an official Olympic Regulation Stripper Pole in front of the stage for impressive gravity defying exertions that might be making the crowd dig the event even more--possibly--or, it is also possible that they couldn't eclipse the music any more than this, unless they were to smash all the band's musical instruments to powder. That's the question with gimmickry: if the special effects, explosions, fire, naked dancers are unrelenting will the listener really be listening or just looking? Are rock shows more rock and roll with them and hence greater than the sum of their parts--or less than? Well, it's all in the deployment, no doubt. I did hear negative comments murmured after their set. Nonetheless, I would STILL like a trapeze performance during OUR shows. No one else agrees. It is impractical, it's true. I would settle for an omelet-cooking demo. Or at least a Van der Graaf Generator experiment between songs.

The party breaks up. The crowd walks blinking out of the club into the Texas sunlight. We banter a bit with our distribution peeps, mill about, chat up a few folks about our SXSW show tomorrow night. Andrew disappears down a side street. Gary & I schmooze a bit more then go locate our drummer. We find him a few blocks away. He's got his computer out on the bar at a fancy-ish restaurant. He's working. And drinking some cold beers. He tells that us his father is going to come meet him here...in a while. WOW! I wonder if his head will just explode. Ouch.

I'm very hungry now and this particular restaurant is too pricey for my budgetary considerations. Gary is game to hunt and gather with me and experience local food-- let's go! We don't get far before we are seduced by the Fried Chicken and Waffle truck. We chow down happily on these oily delicacies and go back to check on Andrew.

No bio-parent yet. Just as we prepare to head out again, a man enters the restaurant. He scans the room and there's a moment we can see him in profile. He has Andrew's exact jawline/chin. Whoa, he is shorter but there's a VERY strong resemblance. Genes. Is there nothing they can't do? This is Andrew's father. He sees us and comes over to the bar. We make intros all around. And then Gary and I make a graceful exit--they have some catching up to do.

We stroll down 6th street and marvel at the massive crowds forming into lines at all the super-famous Austin rock venues. It is now dusk. We are filled with fried chicken and anticipation. We pass club after club in which bands are kicking into their sets, guitars ringing, cymbals crashing, applause breaking out. This night is alive with the immediacy of loud rock music being played by living breathing humans and breathing living listeners crowding in to listen and watch and enjoy...and drink beer. I stand in the middle of the street for a moment and take in the clashing genres doing battle in the air: distorted headbang-inducing guitar tones mingle with delicate acoustic fingerpicking, a lazy bluesy lick is superseded by a manic thumping kickdrum and the splash of a high-hat, all blanketed by a general low mid range ROAR and HUM, and is that, yes, a bagpipe being played by yonder dude in a kilt.

We see many BBQ restaurants on our survey around Austin and experience regret about not having room in our stomachs for more meat. We wander for a few hours, but ultimately we end up at the venue we are appearing at tomorrow, Darwin's Pub. We listen to the Clea Roddick band's set. They have the same instrumentation as us--piano/voice, bass, drums--so I feel emboldened to go say hey. She tells me that they normally have a much bigger band, but, as they traveling from Canada they kept it simple for this trip. Ahhh, that's too bad--I like trios! That's the ideal lineup for a band.

We turn around and steer in the direction of where Andrew and the truck are parked. But Gary is now peckish and is forced to order some BBQ from the Stubbs BBQ takeout window. He says it's a bit dry-- but it must be pretty good, because he manages to choke it down.

We meet back up with Andrew who has survived having his mind completely blown what with the three-hour synopsis with his father. We get out the directions to our hosts' place. It is supposed to be ten minutes from downtown. We drive for twenty minutes. We have to face it. We are lost and have to call for help--fortunately it's not very late yet. Julie and David guide us expertly to their lovely house. We get out of the truck and they commence helping us carry our stuff in--WOW!

"No, please, you don't have to help!"
"oh no, we are glad to!"

OH my goodness! This is serious hospitality!

They offer us drinks and we all settle in in the living room for some conversation. Julie and I try to remember the last time we were together, but it has just been too long--fifteen, twenty years? We were neighbors growing up, her cat was my cat's mom, and Julie (and her sisters) used to babysit me when I was a youngster in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Whoa. Later, Julie and I both lived in Knoxville while I was in high school/college. We reminisce about going to see Yes in Nashville. Yeah. Ok. And now Julie's a mom with a nine-year-old daughter. We talk about how great my mother is. I know. She is the sweetest. I tell Julie that I saw my mom this very morning. But that seems like twenty years ago. And now my mind is a teeny bit blown, too.

When I finally lie down and compose myself for the night's repose, I can still hear that musical stew from the streets of Austin in my mind's ear. In my mind's eye, I can see the faces of everyone we talked to today. I can see a diagram showing generations of lineage of my family and Gary's, and Andrew's, and Julie's.

Presently, I sleep.

Chapter 6- Croissants in Texas

2010-04-11T23:37:00.000-07:00

The 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour (a novella)
Chapter 6--Croissants in Texas

March 16th
Today we are to see some of my relatives (and play a gig in Dallas). My Aunt Judy & Uncle Kenneth live in Grapevine, TX--our next stop. It just so happens that my mom, Sonya Eichler, is visiting them. A wee family reunion-yay!

We scoot down the road looking forward to the lunch promised by my uncle & aunt. The guys eat Sonic drive-through breakfast sandwiches to tide them over, but I opt to wait, trying to minimize my fast-food intake. I eat a Lara bar. Scrumptious. I'm hungry in half an hour. We have two more hours to go...at least. Dang.

We miss our exit on account of fatigue and being slightly misled by our internet driving directions (this problem becomes an ongoing thread--the mapping databases on the web are no match for the convolutions & complexity of Texas roadways). We are lost and now forced to call Judy for help. She rights our route and we soon arrive at their lovely book-filled abode. They have at least 25 or 30 of my mom's paintings adorning their walls--amongst the artwork of other friends & family. NICE!

They promptly seat us at the kitchen table & feed us tasty salad & butternut squash soup with crystallized ginger. Yes. Yes. Yes. Aunt Judy offers us a choice of desserts: bundt cake with cream-cheese frosting or poached pears? I answer, "both". Everyone looks at me. What?? I'm hungry and a glutton--revile me, ridicule me, just don't call me late for dinner.

We hang for awhile, but then, one by one we all succumb to the siren call for sleep. A collective naptime ensues. The next thing I know, Mom is telling me to wake up & get ready for my gig. Whoa. I was COMPLETELY out cold. I jump into the shower.

We get it together to depart early for Dallas to allow time to hit a Guitar Center on the way and purchase that drumhead that Andrew STILL needs--oops. We have directions but they go awry. Where is Lamar Road?? We give up and go to the venue.

We all take a collective breath when we arrive. On the Texas leg of the tour, this show is appearance number one in a series of six engagements in five days. Let's pace ourselves! We carry our gear in, we set up. I get a can of Shiner since I've heard it's a classic Texas beer. Mmm. Tasty. We play our set, we tear down, we listen to much of the other band's ear-bleedingly loud set. They too are headed to Austin for South by Southwest--a common destination this week. We hand out True Margrit stickers to all who want them. We chill after the show with some friends and my relatives, and then head back to Grapevine. Done and done. Not the most auspicious beginning to our work-week of rock--but from minute seeds do forests grow.

We are all ravenous when we get back to Judy & Kenneth's home. They whip up the most scrumptious pastrami sandwiches on flakey buttery croissants which they expertly grill in their pannini press. YUMMY as hell, although, perhaps not exactly authentic local Lone Star State fare. But somehow appropriate--we Californians are misfits here...square pegs... castaways...interlopers, like croissants in Texas.

Thus fueled we go to our separate nests to dream of BBQ, glory, and rock. Bring it on, Texas!

Chapter 5- In Which We Learn Who Else Snores

2010-04-10T11:06:00.000-07:00

Claire and Steve go off to work, their daughters go off to school. We dally briefly and then get on the highway heading east. It's another travel-only day in which we mean to get ourselves not only to Texas, but across the dang state all the way to Abilene. It's far--hundreds o'miles. Get along little dogies.

We zip through Southeastern Arizona and cross into Texas. While we fly through El Paso, I catch some glimpses of the dusty hilly streets of Juarez, Mexico on the right. Past the freeway interchange knots and strip-mall constellations, we presently move into a region of desert ruled by high winds and black stormclouds wheeling slowly across horizons. I hug my pillow and drift into fitful sleep for a few minutes at a time. I'm getting hungry.

We stop at a gas station and Andrew is delighted to discover a whole line of Doritos super-spicy chips and he buys them all. One flavor is called something like, "Explode Your Head", another is,"Detonate the Neighborhood", and the final threatening flavor is, "Thermonuclear War" (well...maybe not those exact words). When we get back in the car Andrew cracks open the mildest one. I sample one--a single chip makes my eyes water. Delish. Ouch.

We drive on.

We hit Odessa, TX at dinnertime and end up at a pretty decent Mexican restaurant that us slightly fast-foody, but with really good chips and tortillas. The salsa bar is impressive too--with smokey hot, green, and mild options. Yum.

We drive on. We see patterns of red lights out in the unknowable distance at various heights. Finally, we put it together that these lights are connected to windmills, but in the dark they appear to float like unquiet souls in the ether.

We drive on. The night is long, the darkness thick, and Texas big.

At 1:30 am we get to our destination--a Motel 6 in Abilene. As Andrew finalizes the paperwork, Gary and I notice a chart inside the vending machine. There are certain items that have a stylized green leaf icon to indicate they are lowfat. The granola bars have a leaf. The fig newtons have a leaf. And so do the condoms. Haha. Some joker.

Andrew gets his own room in which to snore. Gary and I are roommates. We can't seem to agree on whether or not the heat should be on, so we compromise--I get the bed next to the heater which is turned off--which makes perfect sense to us at this hour and condition of sleep-deprivation. I apply preemptive earplugs and slip into blessed unconsciousness. Gary is awakened in the wee hours by a peculiar purring sound. It is me. Snoring.

I wake myself up
It turns out that I snore too
Throw pillows at me

Chapter 4-Sweat Girl

2010-04-10T01:03:00.000-07:00

The 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour
Chapter 4--Sweat Girl

We are loathe to leave in the morning--Brendan is a very interesting guy and there is some good chatting going on when I arise. I want to hear it all & participate but leave we must. We don't have a gig tonight, but we have deserts and state lines to cross, and...god knows. And to add to our general sleep-deprived disorientation, it's daylight savings today--but we don't gain the hour yet, because our next stop is Arizona which doesn't observe daylight savings. Except in the Navajo Nation, we are duly informed by the internet.

Maybe it's because we didn't get to eat at a buffet in Vegas, but we end up at a 7.99 All You Can Eat Prime Rib Buffet in Laughlin, NV. All we have to do is sign up for the River Palms Casino Players Club to get that extra good price (that is, three big bucks off). And the prime rib is quite good, but of course, we all gorge. And pay the higher price of biliousness. Ooof.

Somehow the stop in Laughlin takes almost two hours...what the hell??? Did we slip into some alternate gambling dimension/ dementia and inadvertently play some unconscious hands of blackjack? We hastily get back on the road.

We are heading to Tucson where we are to stay at the home of one of my oldest & dearest friends, Claire . I have known her my entire life--our parents were friends before we were born. I have countless poignant, hilarious, and heartwarming memories of growing up in east Tennessee with her. For example...once, when we were 8, she kicked me in the stomach & knocked the wind out of me (it wasn't on purpose, I don't hold it against her at all, and I'm sure I was being a punk-ass). Another time, we had a picnic in the woods behind her house (I recall that we had some cubes of salami and crackers), and we both got a bunch of ticks on us. Yuck-o. And on another occasion she gave me a really heartfelt birthday card in which she kindly referred to me as a "sweat girl"--Claire was never the best speller. Possibly my favorite memory of our youth is of Claire coming to school in 6th grade with a lollipop stuck in her hair (it was one of those bright-red cinnamon-flavored cube pops). Apparently, Claire and her sister Susannah had had a tussle & Susannah threw the lollipop at Claire whose hair was long & tangly--it just lodged up in there. I can just picture their mom, Joan-Ellen, sending them off to school in dire resignation. And then, there we were in class and our teacher paused in the middle of a sentence to scrutinize the situation on Claire's head, while Claire chuckled good-naturedly. And that's how Claire is--she is simply good-natured, always ready to see the humor in bizarre situations and ready with a kind word of encouragement to others who may also have siblings or life itself throwing sticky things (or worse) at them.

It has been several months since I've spoken with Claire, so needless to say, I'm looking forward to seeing her and catching up. We keep calling her with updates. The sun goes down over some saguaros, and we are still hours away from Tucson. Dammit!

Finally at 11:30 pm, we arrive, we get the sleeping arrangements sorted, the guys are situated, Claire says goodnight to her daughters & hubby, and then Claire and I can hang out chatting unto 2 am. It's good to be a sweat girl again.

Chapter 3—Lady Luck

2010-04-08T23:54:00.000-07:00

The 2010 March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour (a novella)
Chapter 3—Lady Luck

(March 13th)
In the morning the first thought in our collective brain is about Frank over at the GRIZZLY ROCK CAFE bragging about his breakfast...in particular, his signature recipe for sausage AND bacon gravy. We head over to the cafe in order to check it out. We are not disappointed. Andrew’s chicken fried steak is the size of a village (and it fact takes village to eat it--we all have some). It is smothered in a gravy that is indeed deliciously sausagey & bacony. Wow. Our server (who is a bit Jennifer-Aniston-esque) puts Gary’s pancake down on the table. It is not perfectly round, but instead looks like a cuddly beast of some sort--we all admire its adorable ears.

Gary says, “Oooh, cute. A Mickey Mouse pancake.” The waitress practically stamps her foot in indignation.

“Where are you?” she demands. Uh oh. We have angered the Jennifer Aniston of California’s central valley. It takes us just a moment & then we all realize the pancake represents a bear, not a mouse--we are at GRIZZLY ROCK CAFÉ. Of course. Haha.

Waitress indignant
That's no Mickey Mouse pancake
Recall where you are

As we are taking our leave we admire the slabs of tri-tip which Frank piles on the smoker in the patio. Dude. He is not messing around.

Down the road we go, hauling proverbial ass, through mountain passes , past windmills, through the tumbleweeds, and miles and miles of desert. Around dusk we start passing the isolated outposts, the neon oases, with rollercoasters and casinos that soon give way to that ultimate monument to compulsive behavior that is Las Vegas.

Vast expanse of sand
The light beam from the Luxor
Can be seen from space

We stop by the home of this evening's hosts (Brendan & family) & briefly chat and get a suggestion for somewhere delish for dinner. Brendan sends us to an excellent Chinese restaurant not far from our club. When we get there, Gary & Andrew are amazed there are no slot machines. But the truth is, not every business in Las Vegas caters to gambling. Just 99%. In any event, the food is superb. We are lucky we know Brendan--we would never have found this eatery.

We arrive at our venue--Boomers Bar--just in time to join in a debate with the sounds guy and other bands about the lineup for the evening: who when why how. For whatever reason, it shakes down that we are to go on first using one of the bands
(DEVILCAR's) drum & bass setup. This suits us just fine. It's not getting any earlier. We hurriedly get our asses up on the stage and roar into out set. The stage itself is adding some pretty extreme resonances in the lower frequencies blurring out everything but the bass, but we just barrel through--what the hell are you gonna do, right? There are three bands waiting to play. It's not brain surgery. We rock the tunes. I jump on the keyboard. The crowd thickens continually (like a good sauce) and warms to us and our ways. And then it's over.

I'm feeling social and a teeny bit inebriated, so I'm strolling about offering the email list to all takers. One guy hands me his beer while he signs up. He hands back the list & I walk off sipping his beer. He hastens to my side and regains his beverage--oops, apologies! Well, can you blame me? Your beer is better! I got this crappy PBR.

Sign up on our list
I will gladly hold your beer
Sorry I drank some

We enjoy Devilcar's set and then we load up the truck. But do we go home & get a well-deserved night of much sleep? Nay! We head to The Strip. The irresistible pull of neon draws us bugs to the shiny pretty lights. We wander like lost souls in various rings of Hell for a few hours. Ersatz cityscapes and sunsets, blinking lights and tinkling bells, tourists and coeds, and hookers and gamblers and drinkers. The charms of Vegas. We head back to Brendan's where we all fall into a proper stupor for a few hours.

Brendan makes three beds
In separate rooms no less
Snore on! Who will hear?

Tomorrow is a travel-only day. Piece of cake, right?

Chapter 2--All Roads Lead to Turlock

2010-04-02T18:17:00.000-07:00

The 2010 March into Spring Haiku BBQ Tour (a novella)

Chapter 2--All Roads Lead to Turlock ( March 12th )

We arise not particularly refreshed (on account of insomnias one through four--see previous blog). Kevin whips up a massive breakfast of English muffins, bacon, eggs, and we slurp up cup after cup of black tea. OH YEAH. We talk politics, we all have our laptops out, Kevin & Danielle's kitten, Daisy, creeps into my duffel bag--just a normal day in True Margrit-World.

Presently it's afternoon. HOW long is the drive to tonight's engagement in Nevada City, CA? Not very far- but perhaps we should motivate? The shower cue starts. I'm last and I'm slow too. Now we are pushing it time-wise- oops. We pile into the truck and blast off. We head towards the mountains. There is snow on the peaks.

We realize suddenly that we don't technically have an address for the TV station where we are to appear live in an episode of "Mountain Beat" in... uh oh, one hour and a half! Out comes the modem dongle and we find the info on the web. Phew. We arrive at NCTV
one hour before showtime. The crew hustles us into the studio and we all scurry about prepping. There is a slight disconnect in communique about what we as a rock band need equipment-wise to hear ourselves (that would be monitors-which the station does not have, as they usually have acoustic acts) so out we go to the truck for more gear--and then there's more prepping and then we hear the words:

"Thirty seconds...five, four, three, two..."

LIVE television! WHOA!! That's like, NOW! The host- the very personable, April Miranda--interviews us and then cuts us loose to play our songs.

I feel pretty shaky at first and somehow manage to tangle my hands into a knot during the bridge of "The Juggler's Progress". But the rest of the show-interview, playing tunes, is mighty fun. Andrew & I begin one of the ongoing themes of the tour-- a hilarious battle over who gets the last word cueing the end of songs.

We are winding up our last tune and the credits roll. Earlier, April had requested that we keep the music going through the credits. But the song is over. I jump on the keyboard an extra time-or three. Gary and Andrew are making glorious racket unto the hills. This goes on for as long as is humane. I creep behind Andrew's kit and start pushing him. Haha! Take that! I almost knock him off his throne. He lunges, tackles me, and we are down. His glasses fall off. The damn credits are STILL ROLLING and Gary is still thumping away majestically on his bass. HELL's BELLS... the credits are still rolling. Andrew asks, "are we out?" I step back up to the mic & say, "hi". And then, finally, the credits end. Phew. We are so badass. Or maybe silly. Hard to say. Both.

We visit with April and the crew for a bit, then turn our vehicle south. The plan is to cut into some of the miles between Nevada City and Las Vegas- as Vegas is where our next engagement is.

We make it to Turlock. Now, if you've read the post TURLOCK & LOAD
from the 2009 Oct/Nov Tour blog, you know that we played at GRIZZLY ROCK CAFE
in Turlock, AND that the proprietor Frank is a bit of a folk hero to us on account of his mad-skills in the kitchen (especially with smoked meats-and his buffalo chicken sandwich brought Andrew to tears with its perfection). Naturally, we stop there to eat. Gary & I both repeat our previous choices. I have the smoked tri-tip sandwich-simple, delicious. Gary has the peppery Grizzly Burger. Andrew is seduced by the Prime Rib Sandwich-and it turns out to be a most formidable opponent which almost vanquishes our drummer. Then we are too full to drive any more so we make our way to Turlock's Motel 6 (after a few false starts with other less worthy- read, cheap-- motels).

Andrew is consigned to his own room to merrily snore in privacy. Gary, who is beyond exhausted by now since he was kept awake much of the previous night by Andrew's snoring, now drifts off to slumberland and treats me to some impressive snoring of his very own. Damn it. Will there be a night we ALL get rest?

Grizzly Rock Cafe
We all eat some beef
Getting ready for Texas
Where the cows are big

Insomnia #5
Gary also snores
It's louder than the freeway
I throw some pillows

The 2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku & BBQ Tour--the novella

2010-04-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Chapter One:
The Road to Hell

March 11th
We all intended to start the tour in a leisurely and sane fashion, so, we agreed to leave no later than 2:00 pm, get up to Sacramento by 4:00--thus beating rush hour, and leaving time for a nice meal--and then we could proceed calmly and resolutely to OLD IRONSIDES in Sacramento, CA for the first gig of the tour. These intentions were dashed. I went off for an 11:00 am "correction haircut" to the previous day's coiffing imbroglio, Andrew discovered a hole in his kickdrum and had to go purchase a new head at Sam Adato's. As for Gary, he had- well it wasn't clear what exactly was going on. He said, "I'll be lucky to make it by 4:00- and giving you an update will only slow me down." Gary Hobish: International Man of Mystery

Thus. It was 5:15 when we left San Francisco, zooming down 3rd Street to get on the Bay Bridge at the 6th Street entrance. Good or bad intentions notwithstanding, we were now, finally on our way, after all the preparations, contacting clubs, poring over maps, hoarding nuts and berries, at last- zoom!

I sent out a wee email reminder/ mailer to our email list, using Andrew's new mobile modem "dongle". We decided we should call the truck the TMMCTCC (The True Margrit Mobile Communications and Technology Command Center). Very catchy...

Somewhere- maybe around Vallejo-- I started writing haikus for the blog. It made sense--short, concise, easy to type in the constricted and wiggly environment in my little nest in the auxiliary seat behind Gary & Andrew. The haikus become a definite thread when we would later unravel--for example whilst getting (temporarily, of course) lost in Texas.

We got to the club in plenty of time, set up our gear, and soon enough we were plowing mightily through our first set of the tour. The Juggler's Progress, Superhero Drugs, 50,000 Names, Emily, Heaven Knows, 500, Years, etc... it felt good! The last time we'd played together was in Eugene, Oregon on February 13th. A month ago- but we weren't really that rusty- just all the more ready to rock. The crowd gave us smiles, headbobbing, and general love, which always improves our sound.

Afterwards we sold a few CDs to the more enthusiastic listeners, drank some beers, and enjoyed excellent sets from The Only Men and THE INVERSIONS.

Then we were very very very hungry. The Only Men's excellent drummer
(and our gracious host for the evening's rest) Kevin Gailey went with us to hunt and gather for dinner. We found a delish Chinese restaurant, chowed down on all manner of hot and sour soup, fried pork, shrimp, beef, and veggies. YUM!

Finally it was 1:30 am... time for the sleeping. We headed to Kevin and his wife Danielle's lovely home in Elk Grove, got ourselves situated, and (some of us) soon drifted off to slumberland

Insomnia #1
Suburbs are quiet
I hear all the clocks ticking
Faint distant traffic

Insomnia #2
Awake three am
I really have to sleep now
Songs are in my head

Insomnia #3
Andrew is snoring
Gary is mad and tired
Sleep is important

Insomnia #4
Gary wakes Andrew
With curses and imploring
Please get your own room

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day of rock...

2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku BBQ Tour--DAY FIVE

2010-03-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

"Not just fuel & food"
At the next exit
Maracas and whips in case
We lose the drumkit

"Texas is Big"
When I shut my eyes
Still see the landscape moving
Where is Motel 6?

"Gary & Andrew drinking ROCKSTARs"
Some beverages
Can level the peeing field
Next exit--please stop

"Insomnia #6"
I wake myself up
It turns out that I snore too
Throw pillows at me

2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku BBQ Tour--DAY FOUR

2010-03-19T13:42:00.000-07:00

"Primitive" by Andrew
Me Tarzan you Jane
Me write good haiku, yes? No.
Thank you Jane. Thank you.

"Prime Rib 7.99" by Gary
Let's lunch in Laughlin
All you can eat buffet beef
Just like in our song

"After Eating All You Can Eat"
Generating fumes
Delay climbing in the truck
It's still in my pants

"Arizona Hosts"
Tucson is farther
Than anybody expects
Claire is so patient

2010 SxSW March into Spring Haiku BBQ Tour--DAY THREE

2010-03-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

"Grizzly Rock Cafe Breakfast"
Waitress indignant
That's no Mickey Mouse pancake
Recall where you are

"Las Vegas at Dusk"
Vast expanse of sand
The light beam from the Luxor
Can be seen from space

"Boomers Bar #1"
Play in the back room
Music makes strangers and friends
Listen together

"Boomers Bar #2"
They seem to like it
Our song about Las Vegas
Called 500 Years

"Boomers Bar #3"
Sign up on our list
I will gladly hold your beer
Sorry I drank some

"The Strip"
Shiny yet sleazy
Canyons of neon and chrome
So vertiginous

Guests #2
Brendan makes three beds
In separate rooms no less
Snore on! Who will hear?

SxSW March into Spring 2010 Tour--Day Two in Haiku

2010-03-14T12:06:00.000-07:00

Breakfast #1
Bacon eggs muffins
Kevin cooks a masterpiece
We are fortified

Departure #2
Nevada City
Is just father than we thought
Unloading real fast

Television
Cameras are on
The first two verses go great
Eek I flub the bridge

Television #2
The song is over
I try to knock Andrew down
He's bigger than me

Turlock
We're getting hungry
Let's hit Grizzly Rock Cafe
Frank serves great grub

Turlock #2
We all eat some beef
Getting ready for Texas
Where the cows are big

Insomnia #5
Gary how you snore
It's louder than the freeway
I throw some pillows

2010 SxSW Tour -PHOTOS-DAY ONE

2010-03-13T11:47:00.001-08:00

2010 SxSW Tour-in Haiku (Day One)

2010-03-12T19:51:00.000-08:00

San Francisco
We can't leave town yet
Haircut stress broken drumhead
Perhaps we're not sane

Departure
Still not ready
Margrit forgets her keyboard
Pack the truck let's go

TMMCTCC (True Margrit Mobile Communications and Technology Command Center
I blog in the truck
World wide web on the dongle
That is what she said

Sacramento
Though we depart late
OLD IRONSIDES right on time
We have a great gig

Hungry
After rocking out
We go out for Chinese food
Our waitress is hot

Guests
Kevin and Danielle
Graciously host in Elk Grove
Their pets are so cute

Insomnia #1
Suburbs are quiet
I hear all the clocks ticking
Faint distant traffic

Insomnia #2
Awake three am
I really have to sleep now
Music in my head

Insomnia #3
Andrew is snoring
Gary is mad and tired
Sleep is important

Insomnia #4
Gary wakes Andrew
With curses and imploring
Please get your own room

Bee Hives Behave

2010-02-18T12:59:00.000-08:00

Sunday, February 14th, 5:30 am
After the soothing buttered toast I drift off like a little bitty baby. Until... huh? what was that? Somebody stirs downstairs & I awake to a feeling of total disorientation. Where on the green and pleasant earth am I?? It takes moment or two but then I recall it all: the tour, Eugene, Luckey's last night, we are crashing at the home of our kind & gracious hosts, Marc & Barbara. Oh yeah. I nestle back into the blankies & covers. And then something in the insect kingdom stings the hell out of me, right on my chest...not far from my heart...

OUCH! IT BURNS! IT STINGS! Mostly it hurts. WHAT THE?? A spider? A scorpion? A tsetse fly? A nazgul? There will be no sleeping until I can find some local anaesthetical numbing agent. I bustle to the bathroom & rifle through the drawers. Sorry Marc & Barb--necessity! Here. Anti-itch ointment. Duly slathered I find relief & eventually make my way back to slumberland.

Alas, it is all too brief--we get up at 8:30 to prep for our appearance on the Reverend Marc Time's radio show, Sunday Morning Hangover. After my shower, I find a dead bee in the bed. Evidence. So. I'm not allergic--or I would surely be dead as hell with that super efficient delivery of bee toxin to my chestal areas. But I don't have any signs of reaction to it--not even hives. Perhaps that was the problem for this lone mysterious indoor bee--no hive.

After some much-needed caffiene Gary & I run out the door. Andrew is now too sick to join us on the radio, but stays behind and to man the tweetdeck with a blow-by-blow account to the fans. Yowza.

We get to the radio station in plenty of time-- well not really. Actually, we have 5 minutes to set up my keyboard, headphones, the wee amp, etc etc etc. There is a certain feeling overcoming me--mmm, I think I know, it's STRESS. Marc Time buzzes us into the building, but since Gary is still recuperating from knee surgery, I'm lugging my pared down radio-rig up the stairwell. Which is fine--I'm ever SO buff. Gary holds the door, organizes gear--he does all he can to help. I charge up the steps carrying the keyboard past the correct floor. I realize it, turn around and--oops I fall two steps. Ouch. Somehow I catch the keyboard before it goes sliding down the steps. Sheesh. That would have been bad.

In due course all the gear is situated, connected, dialed in, and we enjoy a fun hour with the fab Marc Time. We chat, Marc plays tracks from our three CDs, I play some brand-new tunes solo ("Superhero Drugs", "Everything", "The Charms of Hope","Blazing Wheel" and the experimental collage: "The Best Spam Ever"). Meanwhile, Andrew is tweeting from the comfort of Marc & Barb's house. Very efficient--not bad for some sleep-deprived, busted-knee, bee-stung, virally-challenged, touring musicians.

After the radio show we have a fancy farewell meal at ZENON with Marc, Barbara, Brad and the band. And then, though we hate to say goodbye, off we go--Andrew to the north and Gary & I to the south.

We will be back together soon enough--we are going to Austin, TX and playing shows on the way there & back--a trip that starts up on March 11th. See you then.

Feeling Luckey

2010-02-17T19:41:00.000-08:00

Saturday, February 13th
Andrew sleeps about 12 hours, but his voice still sounds like gravel pouring through a didgeridoo. We go out for brunch while he hunkers down for an additional nap. Poor sickly thing.

Gary & I eat at Bread & Ink Cafe with my brother, Dan. It is quite delish--I do recommend it! After our meal we say our goodbyes to my bro & go south on Highway 5 toward Eugene, where our next rock destination awaits.

We load in at Luckey's Club around 9:00 pm. We are jovially met by old friends--my roommate of yore, Brad Erichsen (who works at Luckey's!), and Andrew's fab friend from his Berklee School of music days, Andrea! This lifts the old spirits right on up, to say the least.

It is the birthday of the booker for Luckey's --the velvet-voiced, SAM HAHN. He plays an excellent set to open the night (including but not limited to covers by both Elvis Costello & Jim Croce--now, that's a rare juxtaposition). We pop up onstage & do our set after him, and then the Eugene act, Just People start in on their own songlist

Whilst being plied with many beers and shots by Brad and his co-workers behind the bar, we receive glowing compliments from Eugenians in the bar, behind the bar, over & under the tables. The praise and the alcohol go right to our heads and the room spins a bit, lights gleam, colors swirl, faces smile. Let's toast the last club date of this winter 2010 tour! Cheers! Another round?...well...

All nights wind up & so eventually we load up the vehicles, and drive towards our hosts' abode. Andrew's voice is so low & scratchy he is doing Yoda quotes from
THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. We are obsessed with the scene when Luke says: "I'm not
afraid." and Yoda says, "You will be. You will be". Andrew's voice sounds perfect for this line and we laugh maniacally. Somehow, the line morphs into, "You furby. You furby" which makes us laugh even harder. I picture a furby toy...and they kind of look like Yoda with fur, don't they... well, it is very very late.

We get in about 3:30am & we all have a piece of buttered toast. Yum. But now we have about 6 hours before we need to depart for the radio station for the final event on the tour. Oooof.

Stumptown

2010-02-17T11:18:00.000-08:00

Nobody is in a terribly good mood in the morning. The average amount of sleep that anyone managed to get seems to be two hours. Yikes. Feeling a wee bit fragile. Gary takes the initiative & procures breakfast sandwiches for all. Our hero. Thus fortified we are able to start the day.

We load up our luggages, toss them into the car, and pile ourselves into two vehicles--for, after the shows in Oregon we will be parting ways. Andrew will head back up north to Tacoma, and Gary & I will go south to beloved San Francisco. Gary & I enjoy some Beatles in the car & sing out, warming up our voices--the show in Portland starts early.

We arrive at Mississippi Pizza Pub in Portland, OR about 20 minutes before the show is supposed to start. Oof. Feeling rather fragile again...but we are here! The kindhearted Sheila has pity on me & grabs me some refreshing drinks whilst I gather my wits & my musical equipage. The gear is placed onstage in due course, and our fabulous opening act, the legendary Jenny Hoyston plays her fab set. Ahhhh--such a pretty voice!

We get up and do our thing. In addition to those who came specifically to hear True Margrit, there are an abundance of toddlers and youngsters watching (and of course their parents), clearly they're especially intrigued with Andrew & his battery & battering of drums. They mill about staring, dancing, waving their arms as if conducting an orchestra. It is sweet, funny, and so surprisingly surreal that I feel slightly feverish.

However, Andrew is DEFINITELY feverish. After the show he can barely speak, except in a scratchy basso profundo. He's sounding like Harvey Fierstein-- or a male Brenda Vaccaro...Kim Carnes? Rod Stewart? You get the idea.

Uh oh. We still have one more show ( Eugene!)--and a radio gig, although, Andrew doesn't have to be at the radio. Can he make it? I believe in him.

After-Party of the North

2010-02-17T10:29:00.000-08:00

Before the show at BOB's JAVA JIVE came to a close, I received a series of phone calls from my nephew, Elan Eichler. He was stopping by the club, no, he couldn't make it in time, ok, he was stopping by the house.

The band got back to the house and received Valentine's cookies from Heather--aww SWEET! Literally. I did some laundry (as described in the previous post), we all snacked, Andrew headed to bed, Gary & I watched some Colbert Reports. There came another series of Elan phone calls/ texts--we are on the way, wait-what's the address, now we're lost. They arrived at 3 am.

Needless to say, we were getting a bit tired but we were all having a great time hanging out. Andrew emerged from his chamber, Gary retired. It got very very late--so late in fact, that it was very very early. So... apologies to all who attempted slumber and could not achieve it. Our bad.

Not for the Faint of Heart

2010-02-16T09:50:00.000-08:00

BOB's JAVA JIVE is a gloriously and truly funky dive located in an industrial section of Tacoma, WA, known as Nalley Valley. Roman Meal bread has its headquarters there, as well as Nalley Valley Chili. Uh...yum?.... or yuck? I've had Roman Meal bread--it's pretty good toasted with butter ( what isn't good with butter?). I have not had Nalley Chili...

Anyhoo, if you click on the above link you can see that Bob's is shaped like a coffee pot. We hope to play in every drinking and cooking vessel available in nightclub design--it's a goal. Help us achieve it, my fair readers. Send us info on other clubs built in the shape of .... spatulas ( spatulae?)? Bowls? Pots? Pans? Decanters? Micro-planers? Bongs? Or?

The interior decor of Bob's Java Jive is a study in all-welcoming diversity-- really quite festive in a madcap sort of way-- with slightly limp paper stars and dollar bills pasted on the low ceiling by the bar--not to mention a hamburger lamp, a teddy-bear lamp and a myriad of other shiny kitsch pseudo-talismanic objects. The backroom, where the music happens, boasts nautical and mountain-themed murals, an abundance of resplendent x-mas lights, and naugahyde banquettes. You can almost hear a sassy waitperson offering you fries with your rock. (They do actually serve burgers & fries...Andrew had some.)

Some of our friends' friends' friends came in and walked right back out--they looked kind of freaked out. Perhaps it was their first time in a real-life dive? We won't hazard a guess about what motivated their hasty departure. Faintness of heart.

So, the ever-amazing Press on Randy opened the night up with an excellent set of his sweet, wry, poppy, arty tunes. We then heaved our gear up on stage and blasted-off through our set into which we poured all available rockfuel (I mean, "rock it"
fuel). It felt good. Included in the set were a particularly vicious version of "True" ( from SEAWORTHY) and possibly our best live version of "Opposite Opposite Man". If you split the dive, friends, you miss out.

Our friends from the CEDARWOOD DOME--EAT MARY-- closed the night with their garage-band-meets-Janis Joplin stylings. They put the RAW in RAWK.

After the show it became apparent that when we loaded in at the back of the venue (where it was very dark), I had trod in poo. Bummer. As soon as we got home much washing of despoiled items ensued. Not for the faint of heart, indeed.

But the night wasn't over yet...

Over Le Top

2010-02-11T13:59:00.000-08:00

Off the members of True Margrit go towards their gig in Olympia, WA through rain and... well just rain.

They arrive at Le Voyeur and hoist the gear from the truck into Le Voyeur's back room which is a study in blue and red and black.

And lest we forget, the room is merrily festooned with diverse accoutrements such as an...eggbird? A dead bird...a must-have for any discriminating backroom venue's feng shui.

The Hungry MCs open the evening up with some badass rhymes. Margrit is brimming with pride--The Mighty Misc, aka Elan Eichler, is her fab brilliant genius nephew! Her head almost explodes.

True Margrit take a turn on the stage to much approbation from the crowd, and then are followed by some freestyling with The Hungry MCs and some of their very special guests. True Margrit gets back up for one more set and Andrew ( who has a shocking cold) pounds our some particularly vicious fills. And thus incited to fury, Gary thumps majestically on the bass, Margrit brutalizes her keyboard and does True Margrit go over le top? Peut-etre. Mon amies, this is Le Voyeur! What else can they do?

Day off at the Dog Park

2010-02-10T12:41:00.000-08:00

A bald eagle at a Tacoma dog park. Good thing it didn't dive down upon the wee canine scampering below.

Seattle!

2010-02-10T11:12:00.000-08:00

We arrive a bit early at our venue Fuel which is inexplicably guarded by a blue pig. I never get to the bottom of the porcine reference--although there is a pork sandwich on the menu. We hang at a table, waiting for the sound man to arrive. There are many televisions--for, Fuel is a Sports Bar AND a rock club AND restaurant. So many things to so many humans.
We load in our gear, soundcheck, play tunes and tear down. Two young men approach , one clutching a Champagne bottle, the other a camera. They ask to take a photo with them. They are shipping out to Afghanistan tomorrow. One tells us about how he loves this country--even though he is from Jamaica & he's ready to lay down his life. we all shake his hand & feel humbled--we are just musicians, after all.

The very loud and very talented Smile for Diamonds plays after us, then Press On Randy--aka Seamus Tomkins. He is a mad scientist with a totally massive arsenal of pedals, laptop, gadgets, and great tunes. We enjoy his set & then we depart humming his hooks, turning headlights towards home.

Bellingham: 48.75°N 122.48°W Elev. 30 ft

2010-02-10T10:16:00.000-08:00

We arrive in Bellingham at dusk. The sky has deepened to a robust Navy blue. There's a light breeze that is chilly. We take some flyers for the evening's show to a few locations along the Artwalk route (a monthly gallery crawl). We meet Django from Seatthole--the folks that made our t-shorts & stickers. He kindheartedly takes some flyers to distribute to artwalkers who pass through his gallery. We also drop off flyers at Merch-bot--a super fun store where we meet Jayda.

We wander over to the Shrimp Shack and have a fried seafood feeding-frenzy. Yum. Especially the cod.

Presently we get over to tonight's venue: The Green Frog/Acoustic Tavern. When we arrive the Tavern is completely full of folks who are grabbing guitars off the walls (where they customarily hang, it becomes clear), and strumming & singing & jamming. Jolly nice.

We take our time setting up our gear, many folks-songs are sung. Peanuts are eaten, shells tossed floorward, beers are swallowed with relish.

When we are ready to launch into our set, the awesome Terry-behind-the-bar lets the crowd know in no uncertain terms that there is a cover to support the musicians and those in the bar will no be paying it, thank you very much. And pay up they all do, and all who come through the door for the whole night. Wow! we need him on the road with us at ALL TIMES!

I like his latitude.

We play two long sets--the second one is a bit easier going once the monitor situation is sorted ( always challenging to play when one can't hear oneself). The peeps listen attentively, sip the excellent beer that Acoustic tavern purveys, and many folks sign the mailing list.

Around 12:45 am we wind up our 2nd set. We call it a night and are just kicking back with our nightcap beers, when a quartet of folks come in and beg us for a tune. We play two--always glad to oblige ( well.. often glad). They buy a CD or two and then it is late and thus time for pizza next door ( for it is now 7 hours and many many songs since the Shrimp Shack).

Thus fortified we pile into the truck and set a heading south, singing as we go.

Our Dome Away From Home

2010-02-04T23:08:00.001-08:00

Wednesday night. Milton, WA. Rain drizzles. True Margrit drives up to the CEDARWOOD DOME. It is duly noted by the band that it is, yes it really is a dome--quite large, really, in the geodesic persuasion. It is painted flat white and not garishly festooned with neon or other unnecessary architectural accessories. Outlandish yet matter of fact--there it stands, as if to say by its very presence: "but of course Milton has a large geodesic dome/nightclub. Of course".

Inside on the ground floor, an enthusiastic and somewhat inebriated Wii bowling tournament is underway. The members of True Margrit carry their gear up the left-hand staircase that is (naturally) curved--following the dome's circular outlines. The stage is most commodious with enough room for an 8-piece band, and dancers, and horn section..the True Margrit trio will have to make do with spreading out in a rock chevron formation. There is an area projected straight out in the middle of the stage for the lead singer to loom above the audience. This spot is considerately equipped with a silver pole--just in case there will be a stripper...or other gymnastics displays?

It is surpisingly smokey in The Cedarwood Dome (the members of True Margrit haven't played in a smoking club in a long while but it brings back memories of even smokier venues) and there is even a smoking section in the balcony that is a kind of groovy hookah lounge.

The first band plays--Eat Mary is their name. They have a jam-band-meets- Janis Joplin-for-jello-shots aura.

True Margrit plays. There are drunken moves being busted on the checkered dance floor. The final set-closing tune is robustly celebrated with hoots and hollers from the patrons on the floor, the hookah lounge, and the loge.

One of the most effusive hooters is Steve who approaches Margrit and promptly begins lauding her with great approbation. It comes out in the ensuing conversation that he is:
1) from Tennesse ( near Cookeville)
2) a trucker here with his friend, Dave who is also a trucker from near Cookeville
3) he is none other than the winner of the downstairs bowling tournament. And
4) he emphasizes the point that his excitement to have won the Wii is surpassed--by far--with the thrill of discovering True Margrit.

He asserts:"Y'all could be the next Nirvana--I can't wait to see y'all go PLATINUM!"

This is very delightful to Margrit. After all, she grew up in Tennesse.

The International Man of Mystery, LEVI LYON--the promoter-- puts the icing on the cake after True Margrit's set by announcing to the crowd: "Go catch True Margrit at Bob's Java Jive next Thursday--cuz they won't be playing these small clubs for long!"

The True Margrit trio is pleased! This is truly their dome away from home.

Pics of the Week

2010-02-03T08:54:00.000-08:00

AT EL RIO ( photo by Tom Erikson!)

Here's that massive moon we all enjoyed this week --on the way to our Willits show.

travel day...

hmmmm--did we take a wrong turn?

Juggling & Progressing

2010-01-31T22:35:00.000-08:00

Well, last weekend was our big video shoot, then during the week we rehearsed, learned a new song ("Obvious Solutions") and then on Friday night we got to play at EL RIO for our international album street date celebration for THE JUGGLER'S PROGRESS. It was a spectacularly fun night that started with an excellent set from soon-to-be uber famous, Blair Hansen who wowed the crowd with pitch-perfect powerhouse vocals & strumming fusillades. Then we took the stage & launched into a magically robust version of, "Make Them Beg" which, due to time restraints, we weren't able play at our Bottom of the Hill show in November. We got so much love from the crowd --which only egged us on to dizzying unforeseen heights, and hence, throughout the set there was no telling what might happen next (well, that's how it felt, friends). After our set The Shebangs burned through a super fun set of their catchy pop. Oh yes yes yes. There was so much socializing & chatting & toasting with friends that it got very late before we all headed home to slumberland.

The next day we were perhaps a teensy bit worse for the wear but we bravely drove up to Willits for a show at Shanachie Pub which is a sweet venue populated with some extra nice folks who listened attentively, got their very own copies of "THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS" and generally spread the good vibes. We did two long sets which is always fun for us, cuz we can play more of our tunes-- and more is better. As a result, it was quite late when we headed back down the 101 to San Francisco ( we got back in town around 3 am. Oof).

Sunday afteroon saw us back on the 101 going south to San Jose for an in-store at Streetlight Records. Notwithstanding the colds Gary & Andrew were now harboring, we arrived, we set up, we played, and we went home...for now...

This week we head back up to Washington & Oregon for lots o' shows:

February 3 at THE CEDARWOOD DOME in Milton, WA. Yes, we are playing at A DOME!!!

February 5 at The Green Frog/Acoustic Tavern in Bellingham, WA

February 6 at Fuel in Seattle, WA--with Press on Randy

February 10 at ALL AGES early show at Le Voyeur in Olympia, WA with the HUNGRY MCs (featuring ELAN EICHLER!!!!)

February 11 at World Famous Bob's Java Jive with Press on Randy (again--yay!)

February 12 at Mississippi Pizza Pub in Portland, OR--with
Jenny Hoyston!!

February 13 at Luckey's Club in Eugene, OR.

February 14 on the radio at 11 am on Sunday Morning Hangover.

Please tell your friends/ family/ adversaries about our shows! We are always glad to meet new friends!

,

SO MANY True Margrit Irons in the Fire

2010-01-25T10:17:00.000-08:00

Isn't that expression odd? "Irons in the fire"--are we branding cattle? Nay! And yet, are we not ranchers of songs? We are. Oh yes. Get along little dogies.

Anyhoo. This week, my friends, is chock full of Margritty goodness!!

For one thing, you can catch us live at our Official Celebration for the International Release of The Juggler's Progress Show at
EL RIO This Friday (January 29th 9pm)!

Also playing: The Shebangs !! and
Blair Hansen!!!!

For those who just joined us--you may ask "what is this Juggler's Progress of which you speak?" Why, it is our new album, that's what. available at Amazon, for example.

Meanwhile...

This past weekend, in an epic 14 hour shoot, we generated footage for not one, not two, but for THREE TRUE MARGRIT MUSIC VIDEOS (as seen in the above still shots). We were in the genius and capable hands of co-directors SARAH DUNHAM and CHELSEA WALTON who whisked us through "mouintain climbing" location shots on Bernal Hill, lip (& hand) synching in the Absolutely True Sound studio, a parking lot pillow fight, and a therapist session scene. We had KAT DOWNS (a brilliant singer/songwriter/pianist) all day applying & re-applaying fab makeup to the band and generally assisting and spreading the good vibe and mirth that was prevalent all day. Props go out also to our production assistants: Jon Carl, Alex Pena, and Sureena Mann (who all rock so hard)!!

Meanwhile...

After our EL RIO show we are heading back out on the road:

Saturday, January 30th: Shanachie Pub in Willits at 9pm-11:30 (!!)

Sunday, January 31st at 4 pm we have an in-store at Streetlight Records in San Jose.

and then up to Washington & Oregon for some fun and dandy shows up yonder.... including but not limited to:

February 3 at THE CEDARWOOD DOME in Milton, WA

February 5 at The Green Frog/Acoustic Tavern in Bellingham, WA

February 6 at Fuel in Seattle, WA--with Press on Randy

February 10 at Le Voyeur in Olympia, WA with the HUNGRY MCs (featuring ELAN EICHLER!!!!)

February 11 at World Famous Bob's Java Jive with Press on Randy (again--yay!)

February 12 at Mississippi Pizza Pub in Portland, OR--with
Jenny Hoyston!!

February 13 at Luckey's Club in Eugene, OR.

February 14 on the radio at 11 am on Sunday Morning Hangover with Marc Time!!

ps We are also rolling out some new fun top-secret stuff in the upcoming weeks, so stay tuned.

The Juggler's Progress is in Motion!!

2010-01-15T09:20:00.000-08:00

So, do you know fair readers that Tuesday, January 19th, 2010 is the Official International Street Date for our fab new album, THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS!!

(wacky photo from our location scouting expedition for our upcoming music video shoot)

We are doing the first Juggler's Progress tour of 2010 starting in the bay area on:
Friday, January 29th
at El Rio
with Blair Hansen and The Shebangs.

And then: Streetlight Records in San Jose on the 31st, and then up to Washington & Oregon for some fun and dandy shows up yonder.... including but not limited to:

February 3 at THE CEDARWOOD DOME in Milton, WA

February 5 at The Green Frog/Acoustic Tavern in Bellingham, WA

February 6 at The Mix in Seattle, WA--with Press on Randy

February 10 at Le Voyeur in Olympia, WA.

February 12 at Mississippi Pizza Pub in Portland, OR--with
Jenny Hoyston!!

February 13 at Luckey's Club in Eugene, OR.

February 14 on the radio at 11 am on Sunday Morning Hangover with Marc Time!!

ps Gary & I were at GRIDDLE's 10th anniversary show at the
Rickshaw Stop last night--AWESOME!!!!

pps just a reminder--you can text "haiti" to 90999 to donate $10 to the Red Cross in support of the Haitian people who need help to recover from the earthquake.

In 2010 We are all Gonna Win

2009-12-30T09:12:00.000-08:00

Wow. 2010...that sounds so sci-fi. In about 36 hours we will be done with that difficult challenging decade we all just endured. I, for one, am ready for a new, better, greener, funner, and sweeter decade--that last one was a doozy, wasn't it?. Let's go!

So I know the question uppermost in your brains is: what's coming up for your favorite San Francisco-based, sweet & surreal piano-pop trio (yeah-that's us, True Margrit). Well, most significantly, in a mere three weeks it will be the Official Street Date for our REALLY RAD new release THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS (get it on AMAZON)

We will be performing on the west coast in January & Februray to kick off a whole progress of a JUGGLER's PROGRESS year!

First we will be in San Francisco on FRIDAY, January 29th at EL RIO!!! we will be appearing with the incendiary BLAIR HANSEN and Southern Cal's STEELWELLS!

Then ( among many other dates) Washingtonians can enjoy us in Seattle on February 6th at The MIX with the truly amazing PRESS ON RANDY.

In Oregon will be in Portland on Friday, February 12th at Mississippi Pizza Pub appearing with the uber-hip, JENNY HOYSTON

PLus.. more dates TBA in Eugene, Olympia, Tacoma, etc etc etc.

We will get to see y'all--so we win! And if you so choose, you get to hear us! Hence, we are all winners, we twenty-tenners.

The Blur at the End of the Year

2009-12-13T12:40:00.000-08:00

I always picture the last few weeks of the year like a stream of water speeding up as the last bit goes down the drain--time seems to zoom by at the end of the year, doesn't it? It's almost a blur.

Anyhoo. Many many many thank yous are in order to SO many people for making 2009 a fab & fun & fancy year for True Margrit. Here are two important categories (some of you are in both category 1& 2! You rock)

1) Thank you SO MUCH to everybody who downloaded "Syllable" for the
Playlist 7 Contest!!!. Thanks to YOU we were featured on a few sites including This one ( and other links & massive email blasts) & we thus got exposed to all kinds of new fans & even made some $$$ AWESOME! We do fervently thank YOU!!!

2) A big thank you goes out to all you heroes & heroines who came to the shows on the tour --with a particular hometown tip of the gratitude hat to you rocking throngs at Bottom of the Hill Album Launch!! Virtual hugs go embracingly out to you music-supporting-sweeties.

In other news:

We are doing both a press campaign & a college radio campaign & they are both going REALLY well--THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS has been added to over 80 new radio station libraries and it's in regular rotation on 40 of those 80! More on that coming up in 2010. We will post the reviews of THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS as they come in...!

We will be back out on the road in late January/ early February corresponding to the OFFICIAL STREET DATE release for THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS Our San Francisco show to mark that occasion will be on Friday, January 29th at El Rio with Blair Hansen & The Steelwells from Southern Cal!!!

All the tour dates are not nailed down for sure yet--as it it being booked as we speak--but it looks like we'll be in Seattle on February 6th, Portland on February 12th + dates in Eugene, and Tacoma, etc. are forthcoming. More on that as it gets sorted...

In other other news:
Some local stars have been sighted at my project studio ABSOLUTELY TRUE SOUND recently...

for example:

Monica Pasqual (of Blame Sally) recorded a couple of tunes with me that are slated for her upcoming solo release!

and...

I'm producing the upcoming Clair album. Here's Maria Stanford!

and one of our feline stars: FUSCHIA!

One for the Ages

2009-11-17T11:56:00.000-08:00

After taking Saturday, November 14th REALLY easy--we all sleep & eat quite a lot-- Sunday, November 15th 2009 dawns, clear and cool with breezes out of the west. The members of True Margrit rise somewhat later...I wake up from a dream about the show in which GRIDDLE perversely insist on playing their set at 4:30 am in the Steve Allen Theatre (the Hollywood venue where we played the Tomorrow Show last week) instead of the scheduled time/place of 1pm at BOTTOM of the HILL. But, haha, it's just a dream. Andrew also relates his peculiar anxiety-type dream about today's show--in his dream, he has to order around a militia at gunpoint to get the show rolling without a military coup halting the proceedings...

Whoa.

We hurriedly undertake our last-minute preparations: bathing, eating lots of protein, procuring the promised complimentary donuts, loading the truck (and filming the loading in stop motion--for today we have a professional film crew of: Sarah Dunham, Heather Carawan & Chelsea Walton)! WOW!!

We get to BOTTOM of the HILL and there is a bevy of activity that continues to rise to a fever pitch right up to showtime. The members of GRIDDLE, TRUE MARGRIT, and 20 MINUTE LOOP greet each other affectionately and with the eagerest anticipation of the day's forthcoming rock.

GRIDDLE jump into the ring first with a SMOKING version of "BOXCARS" from their 2004 album "Turning Violet". WOW! They are sounding ...simply perfect! And the set continues in that vein--crisp & pumping versions of their catchy smart tunes. Hot damn! And as if this sublime rock weren't enough, their set also includes a performance art element: singer/keyboardist Kevin Seal is wearing a white jumpsuit and has placed a rainbow of sharpies at the disposal of the audience so they can pop up onstage and decorate him as the band plays. Most amusing...

So very excellent is their performance that I have a minor misgiving or two about following Griddle's spectacular set, but these shallow insecurities fade into the ether as the act of playing music pulls us into that special zone where time is both expanded and contracted and stretched and the melodies reel out their shapes and the piano chords ring and the bass thumps and the cymbals shimmer the air and I look out into the packed house while I sing and am truly joined and filled with this supreme moment of the public communing and sharing of the magic of live music.

Whoa, indeed. Not to mention: Dianne Nola's tapdancing is so vaudevillian and fabulous during THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS's titletrack (you guessed it) "The Juggler's Progress", that the crowd bursts into spotaneous applause--spiffy!. And our other special guest, SYMON MICHAEL blasts his bari sax into the stratosphere reprising his role as heard on "500 YEARS" on the album.

Lastly, 20 MINUTE LOOP take their turn, and it is a bittersweet glory if there ever was one--sadly, this is to be their last show as a band after 10 years of bandhood. They play a selection of sparklingly brilliant songs from all four of their TRULY inspired releases. The whole room is with them every wry lyric, every phrase of two-part harmony, and every jangly-sweet riff, and as the show finally comes to a close, there is not a dry psyche in the room.

There is much milling about & hugging and we invite the all the bands to our after-party. The truck is swiftly loaded and we are off to the ranch to chill.

The after-party is also Andrew's birthday party. We are homored by the presence of most of the members of the three bands, much pizza is eaten, a bowl of guacamole is decimated, beer is drunk, birthday cake is served. Very very very nice. When Kevin takes his leave, I hear him say to Gary:

"Great show....one for the ages". If Kevin Seal says it, friends, you KNOW it's true.

But the after-after-party is not over yet for the inner inner circle. Andrew is still drinking--a prime source of entertainment and pathos. He becomes a bit emotional....hungry...kissy...& we all wax surreal

Goodnight. Our work here is done...for now.

Friday the 13th--or, Turlock & Load

2009-11-17T10:18:00.000-08:00

We hasten up the pike To Elk Grove and arrive at Kevin & Danielle's lovely airy abode around one am--oops, we are kinda inconsiderate. Kevin doesn't bat an eye at our late arrival, and in fact stays up chatting with us, offering us beers (Andrew continues his evening's impressive beer-count) and San Pellegrinos (that's what Gary & I opt for--yum--so refreshing after rocking out!)

Kevin then introduces us to Linus & Lucy the basset hounds. Linus is particularly taken with Andrew--the affection certainly goes both ways. They have a wee growling dialogue--Andrew goes, "Grrrrr" and Linus replies, "Grrrrrr". Awwww.

Our host, Kevin!

I drift off into a dream about a puffer fish in a takeout carton that Andrew growls at. The puffer fish responds: "GRRRRRRRRR". Whoa.

We meet our supercool hostess, Danielle, in the morning and enjoy a rousing political discussion about the slowness of paradigm shift in Elk Grove, CA. Sigh.

It is getting up on noon somehow & we are RAVENOUS--it's been over twelve hours since our pub grub. We set out to hunt and gather.

Sadly, we end up at Mimi's which has a surreal Vegas-like atmosphere & decor, and the food: ick. After we eat the oily salty stuff, I reflect that I would have gladly bactracked to Sacto for a real meal...ah, live and learn.

yuck

Anyhoo. We drive on to TURLOCK and head to KCSS the college radio station in Turlock that has songs from THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS in regular rotation!

We meet some nice peeps there and give out various promo True Margrit items for some random & lucky CSU students...ooooh.

We then hit the evening's venue-- The Grizzly Rock Cafe--even though it's only 3pm. Frank the booker/ proprieter/ Roadhouse-chef extraordinaire sets us up with the password to go online, and we all bust out our laptops in a row at the bar and do some computing/ blogging/what have you. Geeky? Yeah. But Frank's bartender tells us he always prefers the bands who sit at the bar with their laptops. So there.

In due course we set up & play, and some of the peeps are quite taken with us, and some are tapping their toes, but looking around a bit perplexed. After all, we are bit different from the usual fare at the Grizzly Rock. But Frank really wanted to share our sound with the good folk of Turlock. So we do in fact rock out. And after the set we sell & sign a few CDs & chat with various Turlockians (and our kind hosts who came down from Elk Grove to hear the show). Then Broken Trojans starts in on their set of rockin tunes.

Meanwhile, we order some of Frank's delicious sandwiches (I have the tri-tip sandwich *YUM* with Frank's amazing home-made BBQ sauce), Gary has a scrumptious peppery burger, and Andrew is sent into ecstasies over the buffalo chicken sandwich, pronouncing it PERFECT. Thus loaded with protein, we pile into the truck (Gary driving, as Andrew is ,,, well, hammered). We come back over the Bay Bridge around 1:15 rocking out to Jethro Tull's, "Thick as a Brick" to which Andrew lustily sings every lyric. We are fatigued, yes, we are bruised, we are scratched from carrying drum hardware, yes, one of us is recovering from knee surgery (GARY! You champ!)--but we have our sights eagerly locked on the next show: OUR BIG ALBUM LAUNCH MATINEE at BOTTOM of the HILL--in less than TWO DAYS!

The suspense is killing me....oooooh.

PS Pictures of Glitter!

2009-11-17T09:35:00.000-08:00

Oops-- a bunch of pix were taken from The Fox and Goose show--why not share them with you, my friends?

True Margrit action shot...

our name in lights

Cory & Laura B from Hot Mix 106 pose with us after the interview

True Margrit action shots...

There was a lot of Glitter

2009-11-14T01:54:00.000-08:00

Sunday, November 8th: another travel day... we plan to zoom up Highway 5 back to San Francisco! We leave as early as we can bear to (considering that after getting back from the Tomorrow Show we went to sleep sometime after 4 am). And we do our best to zoom. But we are still one hundred miles from San Francisco when the sun sets.

We pass through a landscape that looks a lot like THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS album cover.

Go figure.

Lapse of time....three days off--yes sir yes sir three days off!

Thursday, Nov 12th. We hasten over the dubious Bay Bridge (PLEASE: FIX IT!) towards Sacramento. We are to play tonight at the awesome Irish Pub & rock venue The FOX and GOOSE.
We arrive at our destination quite early, so Gary & Andrew start in on the chocolate stout. I'm not quite ready for my beer--but soon, soon....

We decide to set up our gear before our interview with Hot Mix 106 ( all I can say is:...!!) which is at 7pm (before the show). We unload the gear from the truck, set up the gear, eat some yummy pub grub, I apply glitter liberally to my face, and our interviewers Cory & Laura B promptly show up & ask some questions which they record for a piece on Hot Mix 106 about True Margrit. And then it's time for the opening act RACHEL LOMAX to start. Rachel plays some SUPER COOL music--intricate, melodic, zesty, and clever. All the members of True Margrit love it. She is accompanied by James Clark on guitar who plays some extra tasty sweet licks & harmonies that blend perfectly with Rachel's tunes.

I order my own chocolate stout ( it really does taste like choclate!). We dive into our set and have a grand old time playing for this happy warm crowd, who send love our way. As the rock simmers & boils & I jump up on the piano, somehow my microphone keeps getting knocked off the stand. Don't know my own strength...oopsie...or it's the chocolate stout talking. All in good fun and rock.

After the show I have a hilarious chat with James the guitarist during which we become very silly--I love it! I try to convince him to come to our CD RELEASE in San Francisco, but we reason that as he'd be traveling from Sacramento, he'd have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn (as they say)... no, earlier...the rectum of dawn...nope, the colon of dawn... NO NO NO--the acid reflux of dawn!!! Haha. Gross. And funny.

We also talk about the viral nature of glitter. I notice that from shaking hands with me, he has acquired glitter on his face. And others in the club have also fallen prey to my insidious glitter conspiracy and are be-flecked with the shiny stuff. Mwa ha ha.

All thing must wind down, so we hurl the gear in the vehicle & head to Elk Grove where lives our generous host & hostess (Kevin and Danielle) who are putting us up for the evening. Off we go, leaving a cloud of dust--and of course, glitter.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow Show

2009-11-13T17:49:00.000-08:00

Notwithstanding the above date that I'm posting this entry-- for the purposes of the story I'm telling y'all it is now Saturday, November 7th 2009.

Since our gig tonight isn't until midnight, Gary & I head down to Hermosa Beach & visit more of my family! YAY!

That's my very own sis, MIM EICHLER RIVAS who is famous and cool.

...and her hubby, my bro-in-law (also hella famous) VICTOR RIVAS RIVERS!

and Eli my nephew--destined for all kinds of greatness, mischief, and music!

Though Josie the Jack Russel looks alluringly at us, we nonetheless head off to prepare for tonight's event:THE TOMORROW SHOW. After a delish meal of smoked tri-tip & taters & home-made rolls that ANdrew & Lynn whipped up (WHOA!) we get ourselves & our gear to the Steve Allen Theatre.

When we take the stage we are thrilled to see that the show is standing room only! WOW! Sold out! FUN! Adrenalin! Yay! Like three little rock vampires, we are feeding off the humans in the room, and we bring the rock up yet another notch and plow through our mini-set with fervor. Since this is a variety show with comics, knife-throwers, and jugglers, the juggler generously agrees to juggle during our tune "the Juggler's Progress". It is pretty much perfection--popular with the us AND the audience. At the end of our last song, I'm busting some kind of silly stage-move twisting and gesturing on the big finishing note when my foot connects with my hat (which has somehow fallen off---hmmm) and I surf for a few yards and then go down flat on my ass right as the songs ends. Hilarious! Awesome!

There are tons of peeps here we are thrilled to see & be seen by, including but not limited to:

EBAN SCHLETTER (the fabulous friend and genius who also happens to be one of our many former drummers)

AND could it be? really?? OH MY GOD!

HARVEY SID FISHER!!!

Of Astrology Songs fame + so much more!

Wow! We ARE in L.A.!! we will remember the Tomorrow Show tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow....

Trip to Trip

2009-11-13T10:32:00.000-08:00

We head over to Santa Monica around 2pm to grab a bite & chill. The traffic is---well, it's L.A. ... y'know. By the time we park, we are getting the low blood sugar, grouchy, sleep-deprived, we live out of suitcases, we have been around each other a LOT feelings that make it hard to think straight enough to choose a restaurant. And there are so many options on Santa Monica's 3rd Street Promenade. Somehow, we are mysteriously drawn to Cafe Monsieur Marcel. And there it is. We harmonize culinarily and share an order of the Cafe Monsieur Marcel charcuterie plate--which, when it arrives, clearly puts the cute back into charcuterie!

Thus fortified, we walk unto Santa Monica and...WAIT FOR IT....ok, here it is: we do a bit of shopping (!!!!) at Wasteland (no go), a spice store, (Gary scores some spice), and Leonidas Chocolate (we all score something here, natch). We then hit Kathmandu Boutique and Andrew buys some presents for Heather & himself & we meet some super-sweet new friends!

And now it's time to head to this evening's venue:TRIP. We arrive when the hilariously snarky bartender is setting up for the evening and a few other quiet drinkers are peering meditatively into their beverages. We strike up a conversation with a very intriguing dude from Australia who is in the film & TV music licensing universe (ps: I hope he likes us!)

In due course, the opening act goes on, customers/fans/friends/family arrive (including our delightful former guitarist NIALL FORDYCE and his lovely wife ANDREA) and we take the stage for our rock du jour. And it is good. Yes it is.

Sadly, our late night snack at Du-Pars is not so very good. It's best to generally draw a veil over the ill-fated repast--but the question that rings in our ears/stomachs as we head home to sleep is: how extremely tepid can tepid get?

SOUTH!

2009-11-12T00:06:00.001-08:00

It's now Thursday, November 5th and we head off for Los Angeles around 10:30, newly revivified ( to a certain extent) by our downtime in San Francisco.

We make excellent time, shooting past the usual landmarks in California's vast Central Valley. The windmills. The sad and massive beef cattle holding pens of Harris Ranch--which some locals with a dark comic bent refer to as,"Cowshwitz".

We also see a cloud shaped like a giant crab

I have made this trip many times with True Margrit-- and also many times with my former bandmates in Sparrows Point

On one such trip we went to Magic Mountain...today it is looking foreboding in the dusk...

At 4:15 we arrive at our hostess, Lynn's, fancy abode in Grenada Hills. I jump in the shower then we jump back in the car & head to Hollywood. We get to MOLLY MALONE's while King Washington is soundchecking. These guys sing like TOTAL angels. Wow!

We are using the club's drums and bass rig so, Andrew just puts up his cymbals/snare, Gary his bass & of course I get my trusty lusty keyboard up onstage. Soon enough our friends, fans, and family are arriving and it's time to rock. The sound is super duper clear, so we can all hear each other and play EVEN better than usual. Ahhhhhh, fun.

After the show we are VERY HUNGRY & our beloved Canter's Deli is SO CLOSE! Off we go--that is, the members of True Margrit + Gary's compatriot Gary Mollica (aka Nervo) from the infamous Berkeley band, THE JARS

My friends, I lived in West Hollywood briefly, quite near Canter's. But I was a vegetarian at the time, so I never got the Reuben back then, But now...now.

Hot Dogs, Sandwiches, Kids

2009-11-11T23:37:00.000-08:00

Nov 2 is to be a travel day--after which we have two whole days off before our Los Angeles shows.

After a tasty breakfast at Golden Harvest in Eureka we head south-that is, after the waitress runs out to the parking waving Gary's credit card which he left on our table. The ongoing theme of feorgetting our belongings continues...

The scenery is quite lovely traveling down Highway 1.

And tasty is the food at our second stop at PASTA FARM--although the offering of "Hot Dogs, Sandwiches, Kids" on their menu is a bit disconcerting... wait a minute...

In due course, we come over the Golden Gate Bridge and enter into the bliss of our three nights + two days off--home, in San Francisco.

Going to California

2009-11-11T22:09:00.000-08:00

Sunday, November 1st, 2009, 7:45 am: I am awakened by Andrew who is intoning my name in a mysterious dialect that utilizes a very soft r --sorta like: "mawgwit". Ugh--that wasn't very much sleep. But we have to drive down the coast to Arcata, CA & it's pretty far.

We get ourselves all bundled into the vehicles and off we go down Highway One. About an hour out of Newport, I realize I'm not wearing my necklace. DAMN! I left it on the bedside table at the bungalow. And thus begins the portion of the tour wherein we forget many personal and/ or professional items--or better yet we THINK we are forgetting them, some actually turn up, not lost after all. The point is, we are very sleep-deprived. I call the motel & they agree to mail me my missing jewelry. Nice.

We arrive in Arcata at Muddy's Hot Cup around 3:30 and set up our instruments slightly wearily. It's a good thing we are doing this show in the afternoon--we won't have much steam left later on, that's for sure. Our opener, The Phoebes do a lovely set of gentle tunes, then we get rowdy for our portion of the show, and then it's all over. We tear down the gear, stuff it in the truck, and go across the street for some good vegetarian hippie food. We are definitely back in California.

Of Vampires and Meat Pies

2009-11-11T13:50:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, October 31st 2009 we drive down to Newport, Oregon to Nana's Irish Pub. It's a wee pretty town with a gorgeous beach.

We meet Nana's three proprietresses who are all dressed as fetching vampires and who treat us like royalty with:
1) a bungalow to sleep in
2) a SCRUMPTIOUS Nana's meal including fish & chips, meat pie, and sausages with glorious fixins ( and later bread pudding--yum!)
3) all the beer Andrew can drink (this amount is not inconsiderable, my friends)

We play three sets ( yes, this is a long long long night ) whilst costumed & bedecked & progressively more inebriated Newportians and tourists swirl through the room, doing the Newport Halloween Pub Crawl. It is quite a sight to behold. We meet many nice folks both during our sets and during the breaks--it is a very chillaxing scene. Some buy our CD, some tip us in chanterelles (!), some give us their own CDs...altogether most hospitable.

Even the funnest parties must end though, so as the hour grows late we tear down our instruments, pop them in the car and head wearily and pleased to our cozy bunglaow. Trick or treat, dude.

More is Betterer

2009-11-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

The next morning (Friday, October 30th 2009) dawns damp. I reflect upon the mountain named Mt Rainier and how its name could be properly interpreted as an adjective--because you know my friends, there are mountains in states that get a few inches of rain, and mountains in states that are more rainy, but Washington--the home of the volcano in question--is just rainier.

Anyhoo.

Around noon we realize we won't make it to our meeting with our distributor peeps ( Frank & Bill at Burnside Distribution Corp if we don't leave for Portland in ONE HOUR.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK.

We leave at 1:20. Not bad for a bunch of musicians. A few updates to Frank & Bill are required to push the meeting back...but we do in fact, make it to the final appointed hour and have a nice chat with those nice folks.

Then we head to this evening's venue:
Mississippi Pizza Pub.

First things first! I have one of my free slices. DELICIOUS! I have the second. More is better. And more than that is betterer. The opening act Here Comes Everybody plays a set of their fine tunes to a lot of costumed grade school children--this is unexpected & cute.

The room shifts demographics as we take the stage and we rock out with mostly adults--although a few kids are out on the sidewalk making devil's horns through the windows at Andrew as the show progresses. It is Friday night, after all. After the show some of the remaining kids come in and ask me to sign their True Margrit stickers. I do, and they leave clutching their autographed stickers. One wee one returns about ten minutes later and compliments my piano playing. I thank her. She informs me that she plays piano and I tell her to be sure to keep it up.

"I will", she states emphatically.

Adorable!

Some nice women who had spent the whole show sending good vibes at us approach and tell me I'm "riveting" to watch-- which is so very flattering--that in fact makes my day. Praise is good --more praise is better! And more... you know.

We head over to my brother's domicile where we are once again crashing, and hang out with Elan & his friend Brett unto the wee hours. Oops--- we should really try to get more sleep, we have a long drive tomorrow. But we were having fun -and more is betterer...

Cougars & Cougars

2009-11-11T12:45:00.000-08:00

It is late when I rise the morning after the Jazzbones gig. I resolve to take Ernest the canine on a nice long walk on our day off. Just as I'm leaving with dog in tow, Andrew informs me that a cougar has been sighted in a neighbor's tree, mere blocks away. Hmmm. Scary...but the cougar already hit on me last night and I survived--after all, I'm brave!

As it turns out, Ernest & I are not to be the feast of a carnivore and we arrive home unmolested and undigested by either type of cougar.

Perhaps the power of suggestion works its dubious magic, for that evening Heather & I carnivorously roast game hens.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Hump Day

2009-11-04T00:03:00.001-08:00

So. It's Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 and the gig we are to play tonight is the SEVENTH SHOW in as MANY DAYS. We know rationally that we get Thursday off --but today Thursday is as far away as Mars.

We once again require diner food to jumpstart the day's rock--this time Gary & I hit Old Milwaukee Cafe. Friends, I have one word, well ok two: homemade scones.
Yes ma'am. Split open before delivery at the table with a generous jam dollop already applied. Yes.Yes.Yes.

Anyhoo.

At 7:00 pm we arrive at Tacoma's fancypants jazz/blues supperclub, Jazzbones. On Wednesday nights they have been trying out a new series put on by XIL Records featuring rock bands, jagermeister specials, and suchlike. As we load in our gear we can overhear a particularly hammered foursome of women growing progressively rowdier. After we are done tucking our instruments away on benches & into corners, I hit the restroom. The hammered ladies are in there. One, a brawny blonde in a snug bustier, is telling her friends how much she has been working out.

She says, "Check out my biceps!" Her friends make a cursory glance at her arms. "No no no! Touch it!" she bellows, "TOUCH IT!!!" I chuckle and head for the exit. She whirls around, remarking, "I like your style". She leans in, pivots my shoulders, and I assume she's going for a hug, but she kisses me on the mouth--although, as my head continues in the arc I had started when she first turned me around, it's more of a graze than a smooch. Whoa, lady. I hardly know you--how about wining and dining me first? I make a hurried escape, amused.

They return to the bar shortly quickly getting even more sodden, making out with each other, cackling, and dancing while the first band bangs through some sloppy punk-garage-pop. Abruptly they take their uneaten birthday cake & disappear into the rainy night. Just in time for our set! We go on & the nice crowd, modest in size though they may be, eggs us on to new heights of piano-pop fury. We attack the songs as if they had been very naughty indeed. My keyboard is severely abused, of course.

After our set, Andrew's uber-buff trainer ( a lovely and gentle person, mind you) approaches me and says, sweetly, "Would it be wrong to say I want to..." and then he propositions me in no uncertain terms. Wow--so flattering! I guess it's my night to be popular. What is it about Jazzbones??

He also tells us we are "two notes past genius", which we all truly love to hear.

The final band plays some excellent punk rock, starring their lanky left-handed drummer. Amusingly enough, they have an answer song to "Member's Only" ( our tune from SEAWORTHY, if y'all recall, about my disturbing dream about having a penis). Their song is called--apparently--"Vagina". Hilarious.

It's pretty damn late when we load the gear back into the truck and head back to the ranch for precious precious sleep and a WHOLE DAY OFF!!!

WOOWOO!

Food & Sleep: Day-Six-Without-a-Break

2009-11-03T23:59:00.000-08:00

Come morning, the voice in our heads intones:

"Hey True Margrit! You just played five gigs in five nights across two states, riding autos, trucks, and ferries playing for teens,toddlers, hipsters, baby-boomer parents, bikers, and punk rockers! What are you gonna do NOW!???"

BREAKFAST AT SOUTHERN KITCHEN!
yummy

This is a corn cake (so good it could be called a porn cake).

Fried Okra--way better than the version from Ramsey's Cafeteria in Knoxville... it's a hit!

and the remains of my fried catfish ( perfection) with black-eyed peas & collard greens.

Thus fortified we stride into our day robustly and make it in plenty of time to the THE SWISS PUB where we are playing a Get-Out-The-Vote event for the local Democrats. KIM ARCHER and her super-talented band open the evening up with a big set of big versions of big songs. Next up, we play our very own big tunes, and we all relish the big stage and the detailed sound coming back to us through the pumping monitor system (especially Andrew).

Afterwards, we enjoy hanging with the diverse, fun, politically-savvy group of folk. This group includes the Pierce County Auditor candidate Julie Anderson who buys our CDs--yay! Unfortunately, we hang out so long that the kitchen is closed--DANG! I am now thinking longingly of blankets, pillows, and horizontallity. We go home & snack, for though tired, we are also hungry yet again, Southern Kitchen notwithstanding...that was HOURS ago. And then we do sleep.

Tell Me Why I do Love Mondays

2009-11-03T22:59:00.000-08:00

I wanna rock the whole night down.

So, after our mellow stay in Portland, OR, we head back up the pike to Olympia, WA ( who routed this madcap zigzag tour--oops, that's me). We arrive at Charlie's Tavern as Monday night football is ending and the opening band, SLUGBAIT sets up their gear. They roar through a rousing set of garage punk joy, and we see that our task this evening is clear: to rock. And so we do! We tear through a pumping set of tunes and get pretty fired up in the process. A drunken soul keeps appearing onstage with me, waving a Halloween decoration --that is, a rubber ersatz severed hand with fake blood. He staggers about with it at his loins, but nobody reacts much to his foolish pranks. A few songs later he appears at my right side plinking some keys on my piano while we play "Make Them Beg"I swat at him, rather effectively I must say, and keep playing. He splits--not just the stage, but the bar, too. Off into the night he goes to interrupt someone else's gig where others will perhaps find it more amusing.

After our set, we meet some nice local peeps, sell some CDs, and chat with members of SLUGBAIT-- who have been together since the early nineties--and I say: more power to them! After all, there has been a True Margrit band about that long, too--more power to us!!

Anyhoo, we are pretty tired at this point in the evening--it is now the fifth of seven gigs in a row, and we do feel it...rock gods though we are.

So, we call it a night and turn our headlights towards warm & cozy beds. Tomorrow is another gig. And the day after, too...

What Was In-Store?

2009-11-03T17:31:00.000-08:00

What indeed was in store for us after that crazy crazy night in Olympia??

( you can read about that crazy day/night--October 24th, 2009--here...)

Well, on Sunday October 25th, 2009, we rushed our sleepy selves from Tacoma, WA to Portland, OR for a 5:00pm in-store at Music Millennium. We did our darndest to sing pretty & rock out & not go hurtling off the balcony whilst we played for the nice folks hanging out listening and/ or shopping. We left some copies of our albums at the store to be acquired by lucky Portlanders, and we headed off with my Portland Eichler family members (Dan, Karen, and Elan) to a super delicious meal at Cha Ba Thai Restaurant

We chilled out through the following afternoon, and then headed off to Olympia for our next gig in the early evening. Sigh. Seeing my family is the BEST!

In Memoriam, Jason Wertz

2009-10-29T14:22:00.000-07:00

We received the shocking news that our friend, Jason Wertz passed away unexpectedly a few weeks ago. Jason was the loving partner of our session bassoonist, Ned Howey. Our hearts go out to Ned, Jason's family, my roommate James who was his best friend, and all of Jason's many other friends, clients and admirers.

Jason always seemed like a kind of a post-modern prince to me--a wildly intelligent, witty, charming, prickly, sweet, and complex being whose high standards motivated all around him to just be... well, better. He excelled in his field--architecture--but he was also literate, super-savvy in the ways of pop-culture, and famously fashion-conscious. You definitely felt cool if he complimented something you were wearing.

Jason lived at our loft for a few months when he first moved to San Francisco from New Orleans. I treasure that time I got to know him, and how we bonded over the Simpsons, Lord of the Rings, the absurd cuteness of our cats, Battlestar Galactica, and the hilariousness of the word, "dauphin". I remember him coming home after meeting Ned and how he had a big crush on this tall rehead & how we jokingly conjectured about what the name Ned was short for...Nedward? Or?

I hope Jason won't disapprove of a quote from Hamlet to sum up how sorely we'll miss him:

Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight sweet prince;
and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Of Rock, Brawls & Ladycops

2009-10-26T14:48:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, Heather & I head out for a wee hike with Ernest in tow. Heather is driving Andrew's truck, and we get pulled over on account of Andrew's expired tags. The Policewoman is benevolent ( after a very serious show of sternness), and opts not to ticket Heather, but comments that two years is a REALLY long time to let the tags lapse. We sheepishly drive on. Heather calls Andrew to inform him.

We hike through some leafy, mossy, damp, autumnal woods by a creek. Nice.

Later that evening, we arrive at Le Voyeur in Olympia, load in our gear, then hang out in the bar whilst the excellent opening act Press On Randy sets up his laptop, pedals, effects, a Roland 1680 (perhaps), and tinkers & preps. Meanwhile, Halloween is making its presence known.

We go into the Le Voyeur's infamously gritty back room--it's a rectangle of cinderblocks that was decorated, one would guess many decades ago, and now glories in scabrous red & black paint in a generally geometric display of points, triangles, arrows, and shards. For Halloween the room has been desultorily festooned further with white sheets draped here & there--perhaps representing mummy wrappings...(??)

Press On Randydoes an electrifying set & we are all totally mesmerized. I had heard his tunes & loved them online, but live is even better!

Next up is True Margrit! We launch into our best set of the tour (thus far) and receive much love from the locals--which only eggs us on to make more rock harder & louder & funner.

Finally the night is closed out by the uber-talented Paul Mauer who has, possibly, the most hilarious stage banter ever. It would be hard for me to do justice to his voluminous manic vitriol--but suffice it to say, he calls swine flu "hamthrax" and he goes on one tirade that involved great ire at a disgruntled music listener, pulled pork, barbecue sauce, and various internal organs....whoa~

Afterwards we hang with the nice Oly folk, sell some CDs, and then load on up the truck. As we walk out into the alley behind Le Voyeur, an octet of young men come bursting out of the back door of a nearby bar. They commence waling on one another with fists and feet--and seem unusually focused on removing each others' garments. We are a little shocked and watch dumbly as this obscure ritual unfolds. The cops arrive in about a minute and break up the bizarre brawl.

We hit the road but barely make it one block before we are pulled over. Of course....the expired tags--oopsie! A cheery but firm policewoman greets us and warns Andrew to take care of his lapsed tags--and lets us go without a ticket.

Phew--ROCK ON!

Shooting Pies

2009-10-24T17:16:00.000-07:00

In the a.m. after our Cozmic Pizza show, we chat with our hosts--Barb and Marc Time for a spell. Barb rescues feral cats and makes sure they are spayed/neutered. She introduces us to the cats she is feeding and helping. Marc tells us about the Mysterious Case of the Junction City Panty Burglar, and thus edified we hit the none-too-dry road.

Breakfast @ Pioneer Villa, truckstop/restaurant-- many pies, thick bacon.

We sit down at our Pioneer Villa table & Andrew, having missed the pie shoot, inquires if we shot the pies, and it is confirmed-yes, pies shooting has been accomplished. All in a days work.

Through the downpour we zip back up HWY 5 to Washington. After a brief stop at Andrew's house for a very perfunctory cleansing of our travel grime, we hasten to the Vashon Island Ferry at Point Defiance . Just in time we get over to Cafe Luna & have a nice Friday night show with a warm & attentive group of Island folks. We do two massive sets including many songs from SEAWORTHY & THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS. Since there are wee ones there, we gamely attempt the rarely performed, "Duckie Blues". When we announce we have CDs for sale one of the kids runs up to me & asks which CD has that duck song--cute! Well, maybe an online single will have to be recorded one of these days.

Puget Sound --or is it? I just had this perverse thought of claiming that this is a pic of The Riviera--or Guam--or Poughkeepsie. But y'all would see right through that....

ok getting punchy--more tomorry!
xxo

Cocorrection

2009-10-24T16:14:00.000-07:00

Oopsie! In regard to the ps on the previous post:
Koko wasn't Coco she was Koko! AND--she was a lowland gorilla, not a chimp. But still...

COCO

2009-10-23T01:33:00.000-07:00

Hmmmm. The names of the two most recent venues we've played at start with the letters "co" (that is, the COMET TAVERN in Seattle and COZMIC PIZZA in Eugene. If you splice together two "co"s'like so: "COCO" you get the name of a club in San Francisco that no longer exists ( THE COCO CLUB) where Gary & I used to play with former lineups of the True Margrit band and Andrew used to play with other bands--but we didn't know him yet. But then we met him and the rest is herstory.

Anyhoo, we journeyed up to sexy Seattle on Tuesday for the COMET TAVERN gig. We had some scrumptious fish & chips at Pike Street Fish Fry (I hasten to say they were EVERY BIT as good as the fish & chips I enjoyed in England--just saying...hastily)

Well-fed & greasy we go play our gig and have a rip-roaring time at this venerable dive ( with some excellent acts including the transfixing Motopony

and the sultry Alicia Dara)

After the gig we are.... you guessed it HUNGRY! After all it's been 6 hourse since the fish & chips if you can believe it! SO we head to MONSTER DOG--a Seattle street vendor of the highest caliber!

We are filled with meat and thus fortified can make it home for some shuteye.

Our next gig is in Eugene, Or (who BOOKED this tour...oh I did)

We zip down Highway five and in exactly four hours we are at our next venue COZMIC PIZZA

The angelically-voiced HALIE LOREN
opens the night with a lovely performance. We step up to the stage & do a zippy, sweet, poppin, set & then we head off into the night.

ps--Coco was also the name of that really smart chimp who learned sign language and said really touching & clearly sentient sentiments...just saying.

THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS is available DIGITALLY ...NOW!

2009-10-20T00:52:00.000-07:00

YES! The digital release of our album is today: OCTOBER 20th! It's available everywhere that offers music digitally--for example...iTunes! If you want a physical CD with all the pretty artwork, lyrics, liner notes, and suchlike you can Pre-order THE JUGGLER's PROGRESS

Or better yet, come to a gig--we will have CDs at them all , oh yes yes yes (including at our BIG ALBUM LAUNCH LUNCH BBQ matinee at Bottom of the Hill on Sunday November 15th at 1 pm with 20 Minute Loop & Griddle)

And don't worry! January 19th is just around the corner and it is the OFFICIAL regular release/street date. Heehee! Wow, it's fun for us to have all these different special events, dates, and milestones--we hope you enjoy it too. The suspension is killing me!

YAY!!!

ps a bit more about Bob's Java Jive

2009-10-20T00:35:00.000-07:00

1)Duke Ellington reportedly played there once!
2) At the end of our set someone called out offering to have my children-- ie, a very friendly crowd!
3) The headquarters for Roman Meal Bread is across the street!

Next up: SEATTLE's COMET TAVERN

... and soon: look out for the True Margrit Cooking show-- a tasty new series...yum.