At 1:30 a.m. I went to bed, still unsure of what the final election results would be for my state. I woke up this morning slightly more hopeful that the little blue bubble I live in was intact but not all the precincts had reported their tallies and no concession speech had been made.
My husband is not a US citizen and therefore cannot vote. I’m all alone on election night to tough it out. He knows our state’s elected officials but he doesn’t know the national picture. The ins and outs of who controls the Senate and the House and the ramifications of losing that control are things he understands in the abstract but he doesn’t get worked up about it like I do. He’s never been to Kentucky or Georgia, he doesn’t know anyone who lives there, he doesn’t see why I care so much about it.
I care about it, even for governors of other states where I will never live, because I want to move the center. As a nation, I want the discourse to be farther to the left. I think that is actually where people are, they just don’t know it or know how to articulate it because the loudest voices are so far to the right. I want a Tweet like this one from Ben Casselman to not be a head-shakingly sad but true state of affairs.
So voters want a higher minimum wage, legal pot, abortion access and GOP representation. Ok then.
But there were some small flickers of hope out there yesterday. Pennsylvania has a new governor, New Hampshire sent the carpetbagger Scott Brown packing, I still live in my comfortable blue bubble. I just wish there were more parts of the country where people hadn’t voted against their own best interests.
Like my husband’s compatriots sing, try to keep on keeping on.
Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy – Satanic Reverses
Holding my daughter on her first Election Day, 2001.
I hope you all got out and voted today. I tried to vote this morning but I had to drive my daughter to school again today and when we pulled into the parking lot of the school where I vote, it was clear that I wouldn’t be able to get in and out quickly enough to get her to school on time. I’m glad to see everyone getting out and doing their civic duty but I wished we could have gone in together. I’ve been taking her to vote with me since she was two months old but in recent years I end up swinging by after work so it’s been a while. They’re studying forms of government in school and I thought it might make it all seem a little less abstract.
There were still people coming and going when I stopped to vote this evening but it was quiet. It’s not an especially upbeat election season. My state doesn’t have a senate race this year, my representative will be handily re-elected, it’s just the local seats and the race for the governor’s seat. Fingers crossed for that one. Nationally, I’m much less optimistic and down years make me nervous. Jittery even.
This song fit my mood today. It’s from 1992. Let’s repeat that. 1992. What the fuck, America.
Normally I am not around at 3pm on a Monday afternoon but there was no bus transportation for my daughter’s school today and my husband couldn’t pick her up so I took the day off and took care of some local things as well. I turned on the radio and hit the button for the local college station. The DJ said he was going to be down in New York on Friday for Peter Hook’s show at which he and his band are playing Low-Life and Brotherhood back to back. The DJ decided to play both albums in their entirety as a kind of tribute.
As “Love Vigilantes” started up I said, “Oh, I love this song!” and turned it up and started singing along. A surefire way to embarrass your young teenager.
I then launched into an unasked-for explanation about why I was not also going to this show. Lots of the usual logistical reasons but also I’m not sure how I feel about the whole Peter Hook playing New Order and Joy Division songs with the Light and New Order playing without Peter Hook thing. Bands break up all the time or kick someone out, get a new drummer, but this is weird and uncomfortable, like when a couple you know breaks up and you still want to be friends with both of them but they want you to choose sides. I can’t do it!
To say my daughter didn’t care in the least is an understatement. She was further perplexed by my insistence that the voice singing these songs should be Bernard Sumner, even though I acknowledged that he isn’t a “good singer” which is really all my daughter seems to notice at this point in her musical development. Then “The Perfect Kiss” came on and I said, “Oh, I love this song!” Eye-rolling in the passenger seat.
But she wasn’t asking me to change the station and any chance I can get to expose her to music that isn’t on the top 40 station is a good thing. I tried to explain how just because someone may not be a great singer doesn’t mean that the way they sing isn’t great. I don’t think I convinced her but I like to introduce the idea to her. I am not immune to the power of a beautiful voice, far from it, but I love a lot of bands with singers that would never make it in an a cappella group. And I love them, in many cases, not in spite of but because of that imperfect voice.
We made it home and I went in and turned on the stereo so I could pick up where we left off in the car. “Sunrise” came on and I heard her laugh as I said, “Oh man, I LOVE this song!” and she wandered into another room. Just wait, I thought to myself. Just wait.
Lately I’ve been on a Scottish bands kick and last week I bought myself a ticket for We Were Promised Jetpacks with The Twilight Sad opening up. I am hoping there will be a bit of banter in between songs so I can hear those incredible accents and barely understand a word of it.
I don’t know why there seem to be so many shows I’d like to see in the coming weeks, and I missed a bunch back in October that I would have gone to if other commitments hadn’t gotten in the way. In the same week that I am going to the show above, there are at least two others on my radar. There are a couple in December too. None of these are actually near me either. Why is it always like that? Feast or famine.
I had high hopes for today’s NaBloPoMo efforts but it’s nearly midnight and my WiFi keeps crapping out, leaving me with just my phone. I wanted to start out strong but I guess there will just be some times when you actually do have to phone it in.
Perhaps against my better judgement, I have decided to try and do NaBloPoMo this year. I know a number of people who used to do it but it has fallen out of fashion with most of my online friends. So why am I bothering? My posting has been spotty lately, to say the least, and I am hoping it might get me back in the groove.
It seems appropriate though since what inspired me to start this blog in the first place was the 30-day Song Challenge. A friend of mine posted it on Facebook and I thought I’d play along. It was fun, even if some of the daily themes must have been thought up by someone who doesn’t really listen to music the way my friends and I do. Frequently I really wanted to post some explanation for why I picked a particular song for that day’s theme and Facebook, at the time, limited your post length so it wasn’t like you could really get into it. Having a blog where I could do that, but not be required to do it every day or follow some set guidelines, sounded like a great idea.
So 3 1/2 years ago, I took a Tumblr site I had used as a Couch25K tracker, deleted all those entries and started my music blog. A little less than a year later I bought noisycats.com and started a version on WordPress that contained the entries I was posting to Tumblr, but not all the stuff I reblogged. Reblogging and all the other people who are sharing stuff are the great things about Tumblr. The commenting and messaging features, not so much. I had a guest post coming up on a friend’s site and I was hoping to get a bunch of new readers who may not have had Tumblr accounts and who probably wouldn’t have been familiar with the whole Tumblr culture.
Today the two versions of Noisy Cats exist together just fine, I feel, and since I’m the one doing them, that’s all that matters. I like the clean WordPress version and the categories and easy commenting that it allows. I also like reblogging cool, fun, and interesting things that my Tumblr friends post mixed in with my own longer entries that are less common on Tumblr. Lately though, I’ve been doing more reblogging and less writing of my own and that’s the easy way out (for me, and what I’ve been trying to do content-wise anyway).
So National Blog Posting Month, here I am. We’ll see if by month’s end November spawned a monster or if it forces me to try harder and write entries that are worth reading every day. Be patient, guys, ok?
* My daughter looked over my shoulder while I was watching the video and said, “Is that guy a belly dancer or something?” I haven’t laughed that hard in days.
I went to see Matt Pond a couple of weeks ago. Though I’m not all that familiar with his stuff, I knew a few songs and it felt like it had been a long time since I’d been to a show. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be just him or the whole band but it turned out to be the whole band, including a cellist.
The line up was a bit confusing because the show was originally billed as being just two acts, both singer-songwriters performing solo, then Matt Pond was added, and listed just as Matt Pond. I wasn’t really sure who would be on first or who the headliner was supposed to be, and if Matt Pond was performing solo or with the band.
First turned out to be Rose Cousins from Nova Scotia. The crowd was thin, but polite, as I guess you might expect for the first slot on a triple bill.
Second was Anais Mitchell. Let me just say that I’m not well-versed in women singer-songwriters. It’s just not what I’m usually drawn to. There are a few exceptions here and there but overall I prefer a band to a solo performer. So I was very surprised to discover that by the time Anais Mitchell got on stage, the room had filled in considerably and the majority of people seemed to be there for her. Even more amazing to me was that the people who were the most enthusiastic, singing along to every song and enthralled by her presence, were nearly all big, burly, bearded guys. Not your skinny little bearded hipsters but, can easily pull off a lumberjack for Halloween kind of guys. Plus one tall skinny guy just off of a work in a suit and tie and pointy shoes. Nearly all of those big guys left before, or shortly after, Matt Pond PA came on. It didn’t take long between each act because the stage was already set for Matt Pond PA (honestly, I don’t know if adding the PA is what determines it’s the band instead of just the man but I’m going with that assumption) and both women just played a guitar that they carried up there with them. There were outdoor lights strung up inside and they never dimmed those so it made it feel like they never turned down the house lights. Between the thinning crowd and the weird lighting I felt bad for the band but they didn’t act like they minded and made it seem like they enjoyed being in a more intimate setting. He tweeted something to that effect the day after so I decided to stop feeling guilty on behalf of the weak turnout and weird lighting.
Speaking of a weak turnout, we had only five kids trick-or-treating tonight. I think that might be a new low. Always buy candy you’ll be happy to be stuck with, that’s my rule of thumb.
Squeaking it in under the wire for Tape Deck Tuesday, today’s tape was another one-album-on-each-side tape. Recorded in March of 1991, side A was The Real Ramona by Throwing Muses and side B was Gold Mother by James.
I first heard Throwing Muses back in college from my friend who loved 4AD bands. She was from Rhode Island so they were like home town heroes to her. I’ll admit, I didn’t love them right away, but I really liked that they were different and some of Kristin Hersh’s lyrics struck a chord with me from the very beginning. I wound up listening to their first album quite a bit because of that friend and eventually I bought the Chains Changed EP, The Fat Skier (pretty cool, 45rpm on one side and 33 1/3 on the other), and House Tornado. I’m pretty sure I have the CD of Hunkpapa in a box someplace too.
This tape is the only copy I have of The Real Ramona though and consequently, it had been a really long time since I’d listened to it. I’d forgotten how good it was. Part of the reason I’m posting this so late is because I had a hard time deciding what song to pick. Counting Backwards and Not Too Soon were the “big hits” but I like a lot of the other songs better. I think I’ll be keeping this tape in the car with me for a while.
About a week ago, I was absent-mindedly surfing around late one night and got to thinking about my friend Rebecca. We were great friends when we were both living in DC but then we’d both moved on to other places and other things. I’d kept in touch with her sporadically but our paths hadn’t crossed in quite a while.
The last place I’d known her to be wasn’t really all that far away from me and I was thinking that I should get in touch and see if she had time to meet up some weekend afternoon this fall. When I didn’t find her listed among the faculty members of the university I figured she might be on leave or maybe she had taken a position at a different school and did a search for her name.
The search results puzzled me for a second. It was her, but why was it written in the past tense? I clicked into one, then another, and felt the blood rush from my head. These were obituaries. I did another search. Same results. How was this possible?
I must have read those tributes to her a dozen times each, looking for some indication that this wasn’t real. I couldn’t believe it. I was just going to see if she wanted to meet for coffee and now I was reading that she died in July from pancreatic cancer. She was three years younger than me. I swore it hadn’t been that long since I’d last done a search for her and seen her faculty profile and thought, wow, great for her! I’ll have to send her a note and catch up!
Only I never did send that note. I thought about it but then got busy, as you do, with work, the kids, etc. She’d pursued her PhD and followed her passion and was teaching at a great university. My life, married with two kids, living in a small town, seemed so ordinary compared to what I imagined hers was like. I easily talked myself out of contacting her because I thought, she’ll be busy, she has her academic friends and probably won’t have time.
When I read the obituaries, they all told about her contributions in her field and how talented she was and what a gifted teacher and how much students loved her classes. They were wonderful, beautiful portraits of my friend, and while I certainly recognized her qualities and traits, they all more or less began from the point when our paths diverged.
I’ve spent the days since learning of her death thinking about her and how much I admired her perseverance and passion. There are only a handful of people in my life about whom I can say they did what they always set out to do and Rebecca was one of those people.
Rebecca (left) and me in 1993(?)
I met Rebecca back in the early 90s when she came to DC after graduating college and had an internship at the museum where I worked. The internships were all unpaid so usually our interns either had some scholarship to support themselves or parents who funded their way. But Rebecca was supporting herself so she had taken a job working at the gift shop in the National Air and Space Museum. Have you ever been there? Let me tell you, it takes real dedication to your ideals to spend eight hours a day selling freeze-dried ice cream pouches and pens with the space shuttle floating back and forth to teeming hordes of kids and worn-out parents, so that you can have the opportunity to spend your off days cataloging slides with me in a photographic archive two floors underground.
Rebecca had a great laugh and a beautiful smile. I was always impressed with how well put together she looked. Even though she was just as cash-strapped as I was (more so maybe) she looked much more professional and stylish then I ever will (the picture is proof of this). She was the best whisperer I have ever met. You could be sitting three feet away from her and have no clue that she was carrying on a phone conversation but if you were the person on the other end of the phone, you had no trouble understanding her. Once she moved on to another opportunity at the National Gallery of Art, I didn’t see her as often but we got together outside of work frequently. We had orphans’ Thanksgivings together and we’d meet up for lunch or go grab drinks in the evening. We hung around together often enough that eventually my roommate and one of her roommates started dating.
I remember when she took her first trip to Italy and how excited she was to finally see things she’d only been able to read about. I remember how excited she was for me when I quit my job to go to Europe. A lot of people thought it was a foolish idea but she understood why I felt I had to do it. I went to visit her when she moved on to graduate school at Williams and was struck again by her dedication to her goals. Williams seemed so remote to me but she saw great opportunities and took advantage of everything the program had to offer. But mostly I’ve been thinking about what a great friend she was. I think about her warmth and her support and trust. Once the miles and the months separated us and I saw her less often, we were always able to pick right back up where we left off when we would get together or talk on the phone.
There is never enough time in life for all of the things we want to do. I am so deeply saddened that Rebecca is gone already and that I squandered the chance to see her more often. But as sad as I feel, thinking about her leaves me with a smile on my face. My only consolation, in reading those obituaries, is to know that she really did live her life in color, vibrant color, and that she shared that passion with so many other people. That is how I am going to remember her and I will try to honor her by carrying her spirit of fun and warmth with me and sharing that with others.
Back in the beginning of the summer when we went up to visit my mother and I found those boxes full of old letters, I came across the letter that came with the tape I listened to today for Tape Deck Tuesday. I’d lost this tape at one point. I hadn’t realized it had fallen down below the cover that went over the spare tire in my first car. I sold that car when I left Maine to go to grad school in Wales and most of my stuff was at my mother’s house in storage so I just assumed the tape was there. It was a few years later when the guy I’d sold the car to had a flat tire and found three tapes hanging out there in the compartment with the spare. He dropped them off at my mother’s office and the next time I visited my mother, I reclaimed them.
The tape itself is like a time capsule but finding the letter is even better. Who could have predicted that the friend who made the tape for me would tell me a story in this letter about missing the sold out Breeders show and then continuing on to another classmates house which happened to be in the town where I now live. He describes meeting up with this friend who worked at a movie theater nearby and got them in to see Singles for free. I know exactly where this is, though 22 years ago, when he wrote it down, I had no idea. I was living in DC at the time and he was finishing up his senior year of college.
I also would not have remembered that the tape was a belated birthday present. He included a playlist from the college radio station where he was one of the music directors. It was for the week that began on September 20, 1992 and contains many of the albums the songs on this tape came from. He had taped some cut out words, ransom note style, to serve as the title of the tape and for both sides. I had a hard time deciding on a single video so while I was cycling through the videos, I decided to just make a playlist. I couldn’t find two of the songs and one or two are either different versions but without further ado I present:
Brach’s Perkies Circus Peanuts (Side A)
PJ Harvey – Dress
Buffalo Tom – Velvet Roof
Tom Waits – Cold Cold Ground
Billy Bragg – She’s Got a New Spell (Peel Sessions)
Mark Eitzel – Western Sky
The Breeders – So Sad About Us
Blake Babies – Temptation Eyes
Action Swingers – Watch Out
Seam – Look Back in Anger
Yo La Tengo – Upside Down
Juliana Hatfield – I See You
Superchunk – Slack Motherfucker
John Zorn – Phonecall
The Stairs – Weed Bus
Seaweed – Squint
Drop Nineteens – My Aquarium
Spiritualized – 200 Bars
BonTon Electric Orange-Colored Cheese Popcorn (Side B)
Miracle Legion – Little Blue Light
3Ds – Dreams of Herge
Revolver – Since Yesterday
Polvo – Channel Changer
Shrimp Boat – River of Wine
Big Star – Nightime
The Golden Palominos – Alive & Living Now
Nick Drake – Time Has Told Me
Pale Saints – Kinky Love
Madder Rose – Baby Gets High
Verve – All in the Mind
Sonic Youth – Nic Fit
The Vaselines – Son of a Gun
The Leatherwoods – Happy Ain’t Comin’ Home
It was a tough choice but I decided to go with the Breeders track for the connection with the letter. I hope you take the time to check out the playlist, especially if you’re not familiar with any of the songs.
Friday was my birthday. It was a beautiful day outside and I didn’t have to think about dinner which is a present in and of itself. I don’t like making a big deal of my birthday anyway, especially when it’s not a milestone number.
Befitting a low-key birthday, we watched the last two episodes of the series we’ve been binge-watching on Netflix. That might not have been the best idea. It had an open ending and I found myself awake at some dark hour wondering what would have happened next? It took me at least an hour to fall asleep again. My husband said he’d had weird dreams all night that were influenced by the show.
The combination of marking another year and finishing a tv show, yes, even something as trivial as a tv show, left me feeling pensive. What’s next? What do I do now? It isn’t that I need a new show to watch (though, suggestions are welcome*) but rather, that unanswered question at the end of the series got me thinking about the static nature of my life here at 47.
My kids are now 9 and 13 and I have more wiggle room at home because they’re more independent. But this treading water I’ve been doing, the steady job, the sensible shoes, the shows I didn’t see because it was an hour away on a school night, has meant I’ve drifted a little with the current. I haven’t looked up to see where I should be going. I have a long way to go still and I probably ought to start thinking about how to get to someplace that isn’t here. Where and what that is and how I can get there are questions I don’t have the answers for but the world is not waiting for me to figure it out. “The kids are coming up from behind.”
I’m losing my edge But I was there
* We don’t have regular tv service, just a Roku box with Netflix, Hulu Plus, etc. I hardly ever watch tv since we stopped getting cable but now and then, having something to watch that isn’t a full-length movie really hits the spot.
Noisy Cats 