Friday, November 9, 2007

Cat Power, Regina, and The Black Eye





My friend Melinda introduced me to this fascinating, enigmatic young artist named Chan Marshall, who records under the moniker of Cat Power. She has a deep sultry voice that is dripping with pathos and sadness, and communicates a journey that, in one way or another, many of us have shared...a year or so ago, just as her record "The Greatest" was being released she went into treatment for alcoholism, and when she returned she decided that the healthiest thing for her was not to return to the temptations and rigors of the road in support of the new album (record companies and fans didn't see the wisdom in that move). She got major criticism, but she stood her ground and now is doing what she loves, with clarity and purpose for the first time in her young career. I am very impressed with not only her music, but who she is and what she has to say to the world.

Last Tuesday I accepted the invitation to attend a show at Stubb's with one of my coolest college friends...Amanda. Actually to call Amanda cool is redundant...the girl defines cool! You of course know that I am NOT in college, and am approximately 100 years old, so that makes this invitation all the more remarkable, but Amanda had an extra ticket and so we hit P. Terry's on Lamar and Barton Springs for a burger basket and then headed to Stubbs to see the young, delightful, Russian singer/songwriter, Regina Spektor. You must know that the name Regina holds fond memories for me of a beautiful lass who was the object of my affections in high school (Glen Oaks High School), named Regina Phillips. She was a vision of loveliness, who dated the school studly man, Gary Duvall (who was actually a really nice guy) and played tight end on the football team and center on the basketball team (Gary..not Regina). Yeah...I had no shot. Interestingly enough though, at the end of our senior years Regina and I were voted Mr. and Miss Glen Oaks (I'm pausing here not for the oohs and aaahs, but for the shocked silence)...yeah, it didn't make any difference...I still had no shot. Anyway, Regina Spektor did not need my "Regina" approval in the least for the sold out crowd hung on her every voice tremolo and clever line. The music was haunting at times and raucous at times and she used her voice as an instrument like few performers I've ever heard live. It was a real treat...I loved the show, and even though Amanda and all three of my girls, (and many many many folks) beat me to the punch...I'm a Regina Spektor fan.


Cleveland is my 17 month old Great Pyrenees (add about 100 lbs. to the puppy picture on the blog and you can imagine this big boy) who is my lone full time boarder these days. He's a frisky, happy, clumsy, loyal, monstrous ball of white fur. and other than snoring loudly when he sleeps, barking at every squirrel in the yard and eating more than me, he is a great pal. Except on Monday...when he gave me a black eye. I have had a few black eyes in my time...though none lately. I got in a fight with a kid on the playground when he called my cousin a bad name around the age of 8. He got the worst of it in the end, by the way (though I am in no way sanctioning needless playground violence) because my sandlot homeys came to bat for me...literally). Speaking of baseball, my sophomore year, my Glen Oaks HS occasionally fighting Panthers team was playing a regional playoff game in Opelousas, Louisiana on one of the worst dirt infields I've ever played on in my life. It was a routine ground ball (although my coach, Willis Stelly used to say, "Gentiles, with you in the infield, there is no such thing as a routine ground ball"...thanks coach) that hit a divot that looked like a pothole and popped up and hit me square in the eye. I chased the ball down and threw the runner out, but by the next inning my eye was swollen closed and I was on the bench holding an icepack on my eye with my baseball glove (hey...it was cold!). Anyway, I digress...Monday I dropped a bit of the sandwich I was working on in the kitchen, and bent down to pick it up. Cleveland, no surprise, was there before the sandwich morsel hit the ground. My head is down, his head is down and when he sees my hand reach for the tasty morsel, he jerks his head up to look at me, and crushes his huge noggin against my huge noggin...right around the ole eye...voila...my first shiner since Opelousas, Louisiana.

So that was my week...how was yours?

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

So it’s late at the warehouse and I got a bit off task and decided to see what my mentor was up to. Turns out brother D had a good week…mostly. I mean; you made the best of the black eye…bringing back memories of playground gang ups, unpredictable grounders and a chance to share a VERY cute photo of Cleveland. That is GOLD!

I can’t help but feel jealous that you get to hang out with the coolest of the coolest. Actually, Amanda goes beyond cool…the embodiment of free, daring, courageous, creative, brilliant and beautiful. I want to be her…not like have a sex change, although that would be interesting, I mean all out there…free in spirit, bold in character, brave and dangerous…something I lost about twenty or more years ago. CRAP! Why does getting old make me so un-cool? Why did I choose to be un-cool…and can I change? I don’t know…that would take courage…another element of coolness.

My Stubbs moment was Issa, the artist formerly known as Jane Siberry. Issa performed at Blue Rock this past Thursday. Laura and I arrived early, gave Judi Sawyer some love, and then found a nice spot on the leather couch, stage left. I was expecting a Folk Singer, and Issa caught me off guard. Tilting my head to the side like a dog listening to a piccolo for the first time, I struggled to understand what was happening. Issa was so far out-of-the-box it was, and still is, impossible to align her music with any particular genre. Beyond the tilted head, I found myself drifting on a spiritual journey that captured and violently raped all my senses…forcing me to question everything. What music should be or can be…to my own vision of what Jesus would be like today, right now…in our time, on our streets. It was the definition of a mind fuck. A half hour after the performance had ended…I found myself still seated on the leather couch…tears flowing, brain scrambled…heart searching. It messed me up. It was good.

Today, tonight…this morning, I’m searching for what it’s all about. Why am I here? What’s it for? Why does it seem bigger than my imagination? What’s important…what’s not? Who am I? Who are you? What is God? Where is God? Why does He want me to struggle with EVERY FRICK’N THING!?!?! How about flowers? I like flowers. Flowers are simple and beautiful…right? NO! Flowers are beautiful…but simple? NO! Of course their not simple…that’s what I’m talking about. Look at anything beautiful and there is nothing simple about it. Is Amanda simple? NO! That’s the struggle…nothing is simple. Complexity is spirit. I guess that’s why I need to quit trying to figure it out…right? YES!

I’m toast, thanks for listening. See ya in the morning…or in couple hours.

S

Anonymous said...

you realize that your wonderful daughters have known about cat power for quite some time...

Anonymous said...

Trust me on two things: 1) I saw the shiner and it was bad-ass; 2) Amanda gets all her coolness from her mother.

Anonymous said...

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