years ago

I have/had a rotating set of musicians I used to love - still do - who's photos rotate through at the top of the blog. Once I can remember how I made all of that happen I'll update the rotation. I can do it!

Let's talk obituaries. Over the last two years I've been hit smack in the face with what I'll call, innocuously, shitty obituaries of folks that I really admired. The lack of newspapers - actual handheld paper - has created a massive gap in the historical record. When someone used to die we'd pay for an obit to be put in one or two local papers relevant to the deceased. It wasn't perfect, but it did notify at least some people, likely got passed around, and eventually would become a part of our collective records when digitization started. What's happening now is two fold: First, social media has become a bit of an excuse to not write a proper obituary for someone with an assumption that there is somehow now a record of their life. Second, and it follows directly, is that if one is written it's not only a lame excuse for that person's life it actively creates a void where they once lived. It's depressing. Imagine 50 years from now your grandchildren trying to piece together your life and finding only "Lived. Died. Service on Sunday" in some shit online database. I'm willing to let some of this slide if we'd take it upon ourselves to write proper summaries of someone's life; I don't need the paper to necessarily be alive to contain it. But, as noted, it's the missing tactile medium that has somehow forgiven us the duty to record history. It's someone's duty, let's call it yours and mine.

To the three folks in the last two years who've been failed by our laziness, I'll try to set it right. If and when I see you again, we'll talk.
 

488IS Det 47

About three weekends ago I swung by Peterborough NH to pick up my friend Fuz for a journey to Cambridge for a show by Jason Eady. We'd coordinated - it's not like I just whipped a shitty into his driveway and said, "let's roll!" I've been to any number of Jason Eady shows but while living up here in New England have tended to drive home afterwards. What that limited was beer and whiskey/whisky so for this trip we spent the night in town, both within walking distance of the venue. Jason was coming up after the previous night's show in NYC and ended up in awful traffic so we just slipped our get together to post show at an Irish bar down the street. Fuz and I did pre-show beer/whiskey/whisky, ate some shwarma, and kicked in the venue door when we are goddamn ready to go in. Here's a picture of said venue, Lilypad, so you can get an idea of how rough it really is out there. 

The show was really great. Sophie Gault opened - played acoustic - and I swear I was listening to Lucinda Williams. First song was actually a Lu cover. Fantastic voice, great songwriter, and has a new album out that includes a duet with Gabe Lee. Really, really enjoyable. Jason finally rolled in (I think) during her set and stopped by to say hello before heading up. As usual, the best voice, the best songs, the best stories. I'll tell you all again - dude is as good as it gets. I'll relay a funny story of his, and make it short. He was in bar with another artist buddy down in Texas and they decided they needed to write some songs together. His friends says, "let's go do it, I live just a few block away." They head out with their guitars and as they get outside see that it's raining pretty hard. "How far did you say you're place was?" asks Jason. "Well, it's further in the rain," comes the response. Further in the rain. They laughed, went back inside for drinks, but eventually got around to writing a song called "Further in the Rain".

The trip was memorable for more than just the show. It's great to see friends - Fuz and I used to go to dinner in Crete, have a few drinks, and laugh at the young crew folks who stayed out all night. (To be honest, even though it wasn't all night, I do remember us drinking too much one night, post-Tamman. One night.) To imagine being that far away, and that young, to picking him up in the countryside of New Hampshire is crazy to think about. Makes me think of the few others from that period who'd fit that mold. It was all a bit reassuring in a strange way.