kitschtacular.

The sun was so bright Saturday, with my stack of CDs and traveling companions, one who was kind enough to provide me with a cup of coffee for the road, driving to the other side of the heart of it all, escaping the haze and smog enveloping the skyline for the greenery of the lands to the west and the clearness of Ashtabula blue sky.

The reason for such ventures was to help out a friend of mine from my Kent days who's getting married to someone truly wonderful. The venue for the reception is a Western-themed steakhouse on which we inflicted Martha Stewart tissue paper puffs of pink and peach. "You're going to love this place. It's kitsch heaven," she tells me and it is, replete with reliquaries of John Wayne bullets, movie posters of films I've never seen, and sculptures of cowboys and Indians.



We channelled Georgia O'Keeffe and stuck white tissue paper flowers in the eyes of the steer's skull over the dining room and tried to make it look girly and wedding-ish. "I think this is awesome, the guests will probably think it's weird..." I'm not really good at this whole party-planning decorations thing so after tying string to big paper puffs, I ended up at the table with her mom's boyfriend and her brother talking urban planning and other territory I'm a little more adept in.



While out in the exotic lands to the west, we took goofy tourist pictures underneath the World's Largest Rocking Chair next to a feed store, and soaked in the miles of green space and open sky.



After the festivities, we drove up to Geneva-on-the-Lake to indulge in even more uber-kitsch. I can't believe I've never been here before, because it's unlike any place I've ever been. It was once the premier getaway for the likes of Henry Ford and the Rockefellers, and my grandparents honeymooned here post WWII. It's hard for me to imagine it as a place that was once genteel. I also can't imagine renting a summer cottage here ever. At least Put-in-Bay has a quiet half of the island. Still, it was a great way to kill an afternoon.







Hot sun, an endless parade of bikers in Harley gear, women with big poofy bleached coiffures, pale teens with green hair and miscellaneous piercings working at the arcades, all manner of greasy food, countless headshops selling tie-dyed t-shirts, blacklight posters, and hippie dresses, and souvenir shops hawking fake wanted posters, hemp necklaces with the stars and bars, and even more biker couture. If you ever wanted a pin that read "I'm a Trucker's Girlfriend," this is the place to get it.



I did, however, score some nice earrings at Gypsy Rose's Mamas and Papas. Every storefront was blaring either country or classic rock, and from one end of the 'Crooked Mile' to the other, I heard Bad Company, Foreigner, Def Leppard, Poison, and Whitesnake.







It seems that back in the day, there were actual good shows to be seen at the Cove, not just cover bands called Bon Journey or whatever incarnation of Skid Row or Mushroomhead that's still touring.



Incidentally, this mural on the side is getting destroyed to make way for new renovations, but I'm glad I shot it before it vanishes.



This totally does not look like Jimi Hendrix.



We did not discover what the Exciting Fascination was.



On the way back, we drove through the vineyards of wine country, though we were all dehydrated and sleepy and didn't feel like being around more partying boomers so we drove back to Clevelandia and I've realized I really don't like driving when it's sunny out, though Kyuss is fantastic driving in the burning sun music.



Came back to feed the kitties, hang out at my apartment with the new neighbors before Muk came over, woke up with sun poisoning and missed church, took my sister to the Hessler Fair, and slacked around with my dad in the basement Sunday night listening to the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. I opened my windows and let the cool night breezes in. Summer is looking hot and beautiful already.

interlude

Instead of clay, I ended up eating dinner with the parents, as we wait for Baby and I'm thankful that my dad's doing better than he was, and I came back trying to figure out what to do with the rest of a cool night, not wanting to stay inside, not wanting to go see anybody's band, not wanting to do anything too epic.

So I drove down to the art walk in Tremont to wander and explore, because it's easier to walk alone in the dark when there's a lot of other people around, and I'm always up for gazing at beautiful things, but after being in awe of gorgeous illustrations, generic Cleveland skyline photos and overpriced jewelry just wasn't all that exciting, and the people-watching seems to get less and less arty and more, well, swanky, all the time. It was definitely date night or girls night out and there were hipster parents with little kids holding stuffed monkey animals and yuppie parents with kindergarteners in button-up shirts and ties eating at upscale bistros.

But one can't have an art district without affluent self-styled connoisseurs who can afford to eat at those restaurants and buy boutique clothes and paintings by local artists so they don't totally deserve the wrath of a younger self yelling "DIE YUPPIE SCUM" out my car window on one of my late night drives when they dashed out in front of my car and I freaked out. At least there's not enough of them to drive the rent up as the population of My Fair City plummets to new lows. I'm still not crazy about that whole culture at all, but as far as necessary evils go, they're not quite so bad.

The music was louder coming from all the bars and as I walked up the street I noticed a lot of people standing around by the ice cream shop and then saw a young guy playing the cello. As I got closer, even though I'm not classically trained, I could tell that he was really, really good.

There was a girl with him playing violin and they sounded incredible, as they worked through their repertoire. I wish I knew my composers better because I definitely heard Vivaldi and Bach but there were other things I recognized and couldn't remember who they were by.

I really didn't care about seeing everything else so I sat on the park bench feeling like I had my own private concert, watching the passerby either walk on to the next thrill or stop and listen in wonder, and dropped three dollars in the hat by his feet because it was the least I could do.



I suck at writing about music even though I do it a lot but it was just so perfect, with the cool night smelling of flowers, the beauty of the instruments meshing together perfectly and watching people play who truly enjoy what they're playing and are better than I could ever try to be and just everything about it was so perfect in part because I didn't expect it and it was something more than I could have ever hoped for.

transcendence

The Supermoon of Doom doesn't look so strange as I come home, having been gone since 7 this morning... work, ceramics, my first City Music Experience, dinner and convo where we both started nodding off.

The church parking lot was full by the time I got to St. Ignatius, which I love because it reminds me of pictures I saw a kid of the Hagia Sofia, with its tall marble pillars, arabesque/romanesque flourishes, carved marble, the soaring of the ceilings as we found stray seats here and there on the pews.

It was unpretentious and packed with those of us who can't afford to go to Severance but like to get our culture on and this was a welcome stand-in. I like going to these kind of things by myself because I can get lost in the music but one of my friends who's a violinist and named her pets after composers found me and I joined her.

To watch someone perform a beautiful piece having mastered their instrument is something beyond words and I was spellbound, getting those shivers up my spine when I'm moved in ways impossible to explain, leaving me speechless and in awe that I had just seen and heard.

ice cold ice cold ice...

I feel bad for my fellow peons who were on their way to work or already there before the powers that be decided to close down for the day. I woke up to my bed shaking and the house shaking, hoping that since it's a hundred years old it's been through these kind of things before.

The salt of the earth people don't get days off like this, the trucking company next door is busy, my dad is still working and so is my kind-of-dad-in-law, while yours truly is chilling at home drinking tea and listening to music.

I could rant about the idiocy in my country and the world right now but I think I'm going to get some things cleaned up, get my paints out, and use this day more wisely since I've already slept away the morning. Noisy guitars, dreamy vocals, and hopefully some beauty created as a result...

the post looks way more gothy than it really is.

Though I don't know where the goth kids disappeared to... I don't see nearly as many teens around who seem to dig the Cure and Bauhaus, even in Lakewood. Vampire novels, guyliner, and bands that your parents and older siblings just don't understand, sure, though the teenage angst soundtrack seems to do with overly long band names and a whole new kind of bad haircut.

I don't even know what's big anymore, though my teenage cousin just discovered the existence of G'N'R and Van Halen and my younger sister complains about all the wannabe "indie" girls she works with.

Black clothing, due to its timelessness, slimming qualities, and ability to coordinate well with anything, will probably always exist in one form or another, even for those of us who are now Grownups in the Working World.

Meanwhile in grownup land, I'm trying to straighten out a rent money snafu with my landlord, got over being a little salty at the lazy boomer fellow peons, and thankfully scored some free fruit, checking for new concert listings, I'm now holding down the office and waiting more or less for the phone to ring.

The rest of the world rages on, for people who are trying to actually change things instead of buying into their dear leader's platitudes, the talking heads continue to blather, and I just want to go out into the beautifully dreary grey with a camera and drive around listening to music. I drove past Lakeview Cemetery last night listening to the song below just as they were closing the gates and realized I haven't been there in almost two years and never in winter.



And as many times as I've been there, I still haven't found or shot this lovely monument that's probably showed up in every angsty kid's black and white photography class portfolio. The place is just so big and it's generally not a good idea for young females to wander lonely as a cloud through graveyards bordering East Cleveland near sundown.



Can't wait for a few more hours of sunlight to get out there again.

obligatory what did I listen to this year post

End of the year music.

I'm constantly late to the party, and I tend to like stuff by people who are dead or don't live on the same continent or stuff that came out last year that I just got around to checking out. There were a lot of albums where I loved maybe three or four songs but I couldn't get through the whole thing without skipping and therefore they don't make the cut. Here's what did.

Jimi Hendrix - Valleys of Neptune

Usually I'm wary of posthumous releases of "unheard material" which usually means junk from the vaults snatched up by nostalgic boomers that stayed buried for a damn good reason. Hip-hop fans are also guilty of this syndrome as well (hello Tupac!).

Still, while most of these are demos and such, the release is incredibly solid (even though I would have loved to hear vocals on 'Sunshine of Your Love') and having his watercolor paintings in the liner notes is a nice touch and it makes me remember how tight his band was and the guitar playing that is still stunning and incomprehensible. "Valleys of Neptune" is more mellow but stands up to the best of "Are You Experienced?" and the wailing guitar on "Bleeding Heart" and the instrumental "Lullaby for Summer" give me the shivers down my spine that all good music should.



Gil Scott-Heron - I'm New Here
I can't do Gil justice, but his first album in forever but his now aged and craggy voice reminds me of old blues records and the dark minimalist production fits it perfectly. It doesn't sound anything like "Whitey on the Moon" or "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" but I hope he gets clean and keeps the bleak and beautiful coming.




Janelle Monae - The ArchAndroid

I really don't know who to compare Janelle to, but there's so much in here that I can't even classify it, the classic retro feel with the sci-fi concept album that namechecks Phillip K. Dick, and gets pigeonholed into a genre known more for slick videos and no sonic substance.

Even Diddy couldn't screw up this sprawling epic that bounces from classical interludes through some amazing pop songs that would be on Top 40 radio in a perfect world, not to mention the Fela Kuti-esque funk of "Dance or Die," psychobilly freakout of "Come Alive," the deliriously trippy "Mushrooms and Roses," and the Renaissance sounding "57821."



Bonobo - Black Sands
This got some serious play on my show this past year, sounding incredibly good at 5 in the morning and also painting late at night. For those of us who miss trip-hop, this could be construed as background noise but I love the mixture of organic and electronic, violins, and ethereal yet soulful female vocals that also makes it a formidable live act.



Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings - I Learned the Hard Way
This was a crazy year for me, starting out with having to kick someone out of my apartment, a hefty dose of unrequited love (or crush at least), a serious bout of depression, and then my youthful indiscretions/creative aspirations landing me in court, and then watching my living situation implode in a matter of weeks. There was a whole lot of crash and burn that happened this year. In the meantime, the song below became an anthem of sorts for me, a kiss-off and catharsis all in one, to not let lousy people ruin my life.

Charles over at My Mind's Eye hooked me up with tickets to see her live with some friends and their grandma and not only was it a fantastic show, but the antics of drunk suburban crackers on their one night out just made it even more amazing.



Honorable mentions go to the Roots - How I Got Over, Vieux Farka Toure's live album, Bassekou Kouyate's 'I speak Fula," and probably others that I can't think of right now...

I learned the hard way...

We met up for dinner and walked down to the Rock Hall to see Sharon Jones, and while the acoustics of the venue weren't exactly ideal, she puts on a great show and it sounded great, I had some of the best company I could ask for and was immensely entertained by the phenomenon of White People Who Think They're Groovy Dancers of which there were many. My friends' grandma came along also and she had a great time, even taking us up to the front of the stage with her for the encore, smiling at the security as they moved aside the velvet rope for us.

I had so much respect watching her and thinking of all of us who know that we've got some serious gifts and go through life being told we're not good enough that we're too short or too tall or don't have the "right look" and go on with daily life and then, after the longest time, someone finally gets it and those gifts are appreciated and shared with the world.

I love the song below because this has been the complaint of almost every girl I know who feels like less of herself because of the way that the eyes of her companion wander. One of my friends who went through a particularly nasty breakup said this song articulated everything she felt and made her feel somehow less alone. To hear a singer telling women they don't have to settle and for men to appreciate the good thing they've got is something so rare and it was just this awesome thing.



There was a spectacular fireworks show going on at the ballpark, so we drove over the bridge to Tremont singing along to the Police to watch the rest of it and did our usual late night pancakes and coffee having decided that we were too sleepy for meteor showers and afterparties.

The rest of the weekend was family from out of town and the usual suspects and my lack of sleep catching up with me. I took a nap between my show and work this morning in the breakroom and I'm hoping that the coffee is strong today, because I'm going to need it.

The rest of the weekend I took pretty slow, hanging out with the family in from out of town, the usual suspects, working on photos, not sleeping, and now I'm trying to figure out how to catch up on that when the summer's ending and I just want to stay up all night.

shine your darkness on me.

On the same idea of laws...

This is one of my favorite T-Bone Burnett songs that sadly isn't accessible on Youtube.

You can listen to it here ... it's gloriously noisy and apocalyptic, especially coming from someone usually associated with "O Brother Where Art Thou?" and Bob Dylan's born-again years.

The laws of God and the laws of man
The laws of man, they don't carry
The same weight as the laws of God
Or the laws of nature in the nomenclature

Do we want to inject
The concept of sin into the constitution?
Is this really necessary?
Does this not make you somewhat wary?

Shouldn't sin be left to the laws of God
And to the laws of nature?
Can we trust this to the legislature?

And shall we trust sin to the wisdom
Of the criminal justice system
Which can't handle the criminals we have now?
Why create a whole new class of them?

Isn't crime dealt with by the laws of man?
Isn't sin dealt with by the laws of God?
Isn't crime dealt with by the laws of man?
Isn't sin dealt with by the laws of God?

If sin were dealt with by the laws of man
Everybody would be in jail for life
In solitary confinement with no one to go his bail
Or else would have gotten death, maybe I should save my breath
But this lunacy is bound to fail

But there would be no one to get the food
Or run the machines, mercy on us, dude

You shine your darkness on me
I am blinded by the darkness

the warmth

I was driving out to the east side Friday night and kicking myself for not having a camera to take photos of the double rainbows over the steel mills and rows of trains covered with amazing graffiti.

There will be many days this summer to compensate for that.

And the new Janelle Monae is rocking my world, doesn't sound like anything else, and in a perfect world she would be a worldwide pop star and not Lady Gaga... it's bouncy, literate, and epic, never thought I'd see a mashup of epic classical intros, renaissance sounding folk interludes, Outkast-esque beats, Fela meets Radiohead meets Prince meets... damn.





It's week two of housesitting and dogwalking and so far I've met the Puerto Rican guy around the corner with a pit bull/yellow lab mix, the older Cambodian man the next block over with a pair of shih-tzus, loads of little kids, bored teens, and a girl named Sugar who's lived here three weeks.

It seems like people get more social if you've got a pet because even if you have nothing else in common, you still have something to talk about.

And this weekend ended up making up for the annoyances and frustrations of the last few and I somehow ended up on the east side for everything... girl time over falafel and Indian style coffee, art museum, hippie watching at the Hessler Street Fair and exploring the Cultural Gardens, and then more good conversation and good people, playing with babies and eating biryani before going back to let the dog out again and put more of the garden in.

I've never really been a huge gardener because I hate being out in the sun, and I find a lot of these urban gardening people a little overbearing, but we had about two feet of unused space next to the parking lot that was overgrown with weeds.

I experimented with some sugar snap peas and those are growing on the other side, and today we put in squash, watermelon, and cucumber seeds. I have no idea if this will work but it's worth a try.

you got me...

I got my hair cut and caught up with a friend of mine Friday night and then just chilled. There's always that initial "my hair is gone" shock I go through but it's so nice to have it shorter again but long enough that I can tie it back if needed.

And thanks to Cleveland Scene, me and a friend got to see the Roots for free on Saturday night down at the lovely Allen Theater. The setlist was almost the same as the last time they came through but it was still a great show.

Our seats were up in the balcony, and at first we were wondering if it'd be not as good since last time we were up so close, but I had a good view of the stage and managed to get some blurry photos without my flash, while trying not to get kicked out by the ushers in red jackets who'd been giving us the side-eye since we got there. It's harder to work at crowd at a venue like that with everyone in seats and such, but the energy was there.





I didn't end up going to the afterparty at the b-side because I'm more of a live music girl than a go to the club person. I've tried the famous dj thing before and it's not me, all those people doing see-and-be-seen. I get a rush off live music, and live for those shivers when it just sounds so good.