Stage 6: Commence

California Brazil Camp
Day 0

I was awoken at 4:27 am by the 100lb rottweiler belonging to one of my roommates. I couldn't go back to sleep. I spent the better part of yesterday preparing for an 12 day trip that will take me from Lakewood (bus to)

DIA (plane to)
see mom in San Francisco (car ride to)
Calistoga (car ride to)
Santa Rosa (shuttle to)
Brazil Camp in Cazadero for a week (car ride to)
Santa Rosa (shuttle to)
San Francisco (plane to)
San Diego (shuttle to)
Carlsbad (shuttle to)
Toxby's wedding in La Jolla (shuttle to)
Carlsbad (train to)
see brother in Oxnard (car ride to)
see Grandparents in Montebello (car ride to)
LAX (plane to)
Denver (bus to)
house sit for 3 weeks.

So... I had to plan accordingly for a week long camping/music trip a 10+ hr day of travel and a wedding immediately following said day of travel. Driving around Denver in a car with no AC when it's 98 degrees is miserable. Having to shop made it worse. I hate shopping. I HATE SHOPPING. I HATE SHOPPING. 60 year old Dude at Wal Mart wearing the green IZOD polo shirt with his collar popped while rocking the socks with sandals was a highlight. The amazingly cold thrift store off of Alameda in Lakewood was as well.

Yes, when I talk about shopping, I am not rolling into Macy's and Banana Republic... I'm popping in wally world and tha A. R. C.

It's now 7:34 am on Saturday, August 20th. I'm sitting at Denver International Airport, where I have been for the last hour and a half. It'll be another hour and a half til I leave. I am on my second night of less that 4 hours of sleep following an awesome gig with Adam Stern and The High Country Gentleman at The Westin Hotel in Avon, Colorado. I'm tired and a little delirious but excited to get to San Francisco to see my mom and eventually head to the 1st day of California Brazil Camp for an intensive week of Brazilian music and culture learnin. To quote my good friend Spanky, "He goin to learn that International music... ain't no Country 'n Western in International music"

View from the office at The Westin

I'm not sure if I have it in me this morning to be witty (not that I ever am witty) or descriptive or interesting. Heading to camp is another step in my journey of my... drum... journey? For the last three months I've been keeping a practice log of various exercises/techniques I've been working on; almost on a daily basis, when time allows. My playing has improved steadily. Obviously, the trip to New Orleans had a tremendous impact on my career and I'm thinking that CBC will do the same.

--Ha... a guy just passed in front of me at the airport wearing a shirt that said "I Love Bacon" People watching at the airport is fun.

I think I might be off the grid for a week or so but I'm going to attempt to document my experience at the camp and I might even try to write a review and submit it to Modern Drummer to be published. How Bout Them Plantains?

Okay, kiddos. Y'all enjoy yourselves and I'll be in touch soon.

Oh, went for a nice hike at Chicago Lakes in between Evergreen and Idaho Springs, close to the base entrance of Mt. Evans. I saws a bear. Here are some pics (not of the bear).

New Orleans: You Complete Me

Dear Mrs. Easy - or should I call you Mrs. Big? Mrs. Crescent? The Big Crescent, or, perhaps The Big Croissant as an homage to your French heritage. Speaking of French; fries sound really good right about now. Thank you French people for your freedom potatoes and wine and women with hair 'neath their arms. I appreciate it all except for your snooty Maitre'D with the shiny pointy black shoes. He can go to hell. And why do your women like to smoke so much?

That French girl in Inglorious Basterds is hot.

...but what's with the smoking, lady?
Her name is Melanie Laurent and that in itself is sexy.

I like her hat. In fact, I liked the hats that the women in New Orleans were wearing, it reminded me of when I was in France as a young man, searching for love in art galleries and clinging to the notion of having a romantic rendezvous at the top of the awful tower. The really amazing thing about that life changing experience in France is that it never happened because I've never actually been to Europe because I hate Euros -- not the people, the currency. It looks stupid.

faire tomber la pluie
"make it rain"

Honestly, I started this post on July 21st and it's now August 9th. I forgot where I was going with this and what I intended to write about. I have noticed that this is my 4th post about New Orleans and I should probably move on to a new subject. I'd endeavored to give a blow by blow recap of my trip to the birthplace of American music but an adequate use of language to describe what an impact this city had on me is elusive at best.

Ned Sublette is far more eloquent and, uh, published. Read this book:

Musician, musicologist and longtime New York resident, Sublette revisits his Southern roots and recounts a 2004–2005 pre-Katrina research sojourn in New Orleans in this blunt, eloquently humane and musically astute memoir—a worthy companion to his acclaimed The World That Made New Orleans, a music-laden cultural history of the city to 1819. Sublette delves into some quintessential dynamics of modern American popular culture—including racism and poverty as well as restive imagination and invention—through the prism of his childhood in virulently segregated, early rock 'n' rolling Natchitoches, La., and the fraught but idiosyncratic culture he finds in pre-flood New Orleans. If discussions of Elvis, early rock 'n' roll and hip-hop millionaires straight out of New Orleans's projects inevitably rehearse familiar narratives, Sublette carefully marks them out as part of a larger personal and social landscape. Sublette's sensitivity to the precariousness of a system that collapsed completely after he returned to New York is more than mere hindsight; his worldview dovetails movingly with his turbulent and alluring subject and its dogged rebirth.

Think the American Government has the best interests of it's constituents in mind when a national disaster strikes? Love or hate George Dubious Bush? Watch this:

Want an audio escape to the city from anyplace in the world:

http://www.wwoz.org/

Want to know what it's like to happen upon a brass band on Frenchman street? (Hint: An epic dance party erupts in the middle of a busy intersection)


A few random highlights of the trip:

• Walking down Frenchman street (akin to 6th st in Austin, TX; cultural epicenter of concentrated music venues in NOLA) hearing brass and drums pour out of every third door
• Noticing fliers posted for upcoming drum clinics by both Billy Martin and Stanton Moore (with Johnny Vidocavich)
  
  
  
  
• Bumping into Billy Martin (MMW) after watching Mike Clark & The Headhunters perform at The Maison
  

• Meeting Adam Deitch at Billy Martins excellent Drum Clinicli>

• Taking the ferry from Algiers to The Quarter and chatting with Stanton Moore who was on his way to do an interview with WWOZ, an instore performance with Galactic at the incredible Louisiana Music Factory, the drum clinic with Vidocavich, play with his trio at Jazz Fest and a late night show with Will Bernard and Robert Walter. I think he said he had 31 gigs in 7 days
  
  
• Seeing The Roots (with John Legend), Dirty Dozen Brass Band, The Decemberists (surprisingly awesome), Dr. John (best performance of the day) and Tom Jones at Jazz Fest
  
• Eating Beignets and drinking fresh squeezed orange juice at Cafe Du Monde the morning before flying home
  
  
  PAY THE HONOR BOX!
  
  

Go To New Orleans!
Thank you.

Boredome Reigns! So Does Junk Food

It's Sunday, June 26th, 2011. The brilliant blue sky above my head is dotted with fluffy pillow clouds the color of Gandalf's beard. Forest green Aspen leaves flutter in the breeze while black and white Magpie's leapfrog each other, screaming "mag-mag-mag" in the tall Colorado pine. I'm listening to Robert Plant and Allison Krauss harmonize "You can't buy my love" in a upbeat, jangly, bluesy fashion.

"YOU SHALL NOT BE BORED!"

Today, boredom has found me.

I'm slightly punch-drunk from a very late night of playing music to spun-out top spinners. Unconscious to the living world, save for the pursuit of the next beer-shot-bump cocktail, the half eyed visor brigade cavorts rhythmically to the organ jazz-funk of Jimmy Smith's Root Down. I open my eyes following a 2 bar drum fill, punctuated by the short burst of high frequency sound wave explosion of wood meeting a 16 inch crafted alloy disc. At this moment, I understand the power I have over a buffet of sweaty elbows, knees and asses. Should I push the tempo? Should I modify the dynamics? Where is the rest of the band at? Did I build the keyboard solo too much? Did I leave room for the guitar to send it to the next-next-next level?

I approach the line of the unconscious, but I'm never quite able to attain the existential like quality of Csikszentmihalyi's notion of "Flow" . The relentless energy of the dancing crowd is absorbed by the band and immediately manifests itself in a crescendo of harmonious interplay between guitar, bass, keys and drums...

I wish I could tell you that the scenario I've just described resulted in a frenzied mob of humans clamoring for more! louder! longer! I can't -- It's simply not the case, until, of course we are actually done playing for the evening. That is when the chants of "One More Song!" and my recent favorite, "More Cowbell!" seem to slur their way through the air, followed shortly by the always annoying, "BAR'S CLOSED - EVERYONE OUT!" Now, I am generally afforded the privilege of staying after hours and enjoying an illicit nightcap but I think it's a less than civil way to get the attention of the bleary eyed patrons to tell them the night, unfortunately, is over.

The exercise in prose has temporarily cured me of the boredom, an affliction to which I'm rarely bothered by. As a child, I was simply not allowed to be bored -- or to even mutter the "B word." I am always filling my days and nights with activity, frequently not involving watching television or helping old people. Though, today was difficult as I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, restless and racing. I stumbled out of bed to discover another beautiful summer day in the Colorado mountains. I started a pot of coffee and rummaged through the fridge for a proper Sunday morning breakfast of left-over grilled squash, zucchini, spinach and onion and combined that with a remarkably well prepared 2 egg omelet, shredded chedda (didn't have feta) and topped it with a chiffonade of garden-fresh basil.

Today, I will practice! Today, I will exercise! Today, I will not help old people! Today, I will better the my existence on the planet and the existence of others -- except old people. I scarfed down the eggs, pounded the coffee, ripped off my shirt and screamed for all the villagers to hear

"I'm tired"

What a freakin waste of a beautifimous day in the "Land Of Milk and Honey." Hell, I didn't even have the stamina to pony up the the bar that is WALKING DISTANCE FROM MY HOUSE! I picked up the acoustic guitar and plucked a few chords. I checked my email and facespace 37 and 24 times respectively. I sat. I stared at the ceiling and the aforementioned Aspen trees. I ate, in sequence of events, (eggs), peanut butter and jelly, of which I burnt 4 pieces of bread in the process -- white rice with soy sauce, pretzels dipped in peanut butter, a blend of Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips and Sanita's (only $2) white corn tortilla chips. I dipped a few in roasted red pepper hummus. I drank two and a half 8oz glasses of a 2 liter bottle of Coke I bought for a recent camping trip**. For dinner, I had grilled cheese and half a plus-sized bottle of yellowtail shiraz. I'm providing this pertinent information because anybody still reading at this point certainly has less going on in life than I do. Suckas!

From The Drummers Chair brought to you by: Sun Chips, Sanita's, Coca-Cola and Yellowtail.

If you've been keeping up on the blog... ha... HA HA HA HA HA! then you've been privy to my plans to take over the world. Remiss of what I have previously composed today, I have remained on track to fulfill all of the goals that I stated, with slight modification. I think that I'll bypass the cruise ship to stick around my beloved state so I may enjoy the wrath of Ullr for another season.

On that note, I bid you adieu. Soon to follow, long over-due pictures from New Orleans. And scroll down for more pictures that I took that will make you jealous.

**Summer Solstice Camping Trip 2011
Outside of Leadville, CO
SUCKAS!

NOLA Jazz Fest Pictures

If you happen to be a fan of music, a performer of music, a purchaser of music or, simply a lover of music, you must attend this festival and the city of New Orleans. Oh yeah, the food doesn't suck.





























A plethora of more great pics to come. I'm tired of reminiscing -- I miss it badly!