French Crime Wave: Pierrot Le Fou (August 24, 2008)

So I’m pretty sure I broke the second toe on my right foot because it looks like an “L” and it is talking to me a lot. Only now I am realizing how far away I usually am from my feet/toes… I really do ignore those little guys. And I have tripped over the cellar door handle outside my apartment for the last time. Message received.

Fortunately last night I was able to forget my little toe-problems and absorb 110 minutes of the brilliance that is Jean-Luc Godard. Right now (through September 11) the Film Forum is hosting The French Crime Wave, and as you might’ve guessed, I am very excited. I saw Pierrot Le Fou, which was fantastic. I almost feel like I can stake a claim in its epiphany just through witnessing it. The use of color was profound and, as we share national colors with France, the political/social relevancy was undeniable. I only wish we had a few more things in common with the French… c’est la vie.

Anyway it’s hard to think of a sore toe when there are people with scissors going through their necks.

I walked home, writing ferociously as I went (this is how I injure myself), and soaked up the city with new skin. I felt like I was on fire, if not like poor Ferdinand, then at least metaphorically. It is such a blissful event to disappear inside of a masterpiece of art and then emerge newborn. Ah, inspiration.

If you missed Pierrot Le Fou you can order it on TCM, Criterion, or you can get a used copy on Amazon. After watching it I highly suggest listening to some Serge Gainsbourg, and especially “Ford Mustang” and “Comic Strip” with Brigitte Bardot – POW!

I was all wound-up afterwards and debated making jam since the pluots I got earlier were mealy… but I settled on pluot tapioca, which is actually quite nice. (Soak 1/3 cup tapioca pearls in 2 1/2 cups freshly made almond milk* for a couple hours with 1/2 tsp cardamom and a bit of salt. Bring to boil and then reduce heat, stirring for five minutes. Remove from heat, add two cups of the chopped fruit and 1/4 cup maple syrup. Cool and enjoy. Sometimes I add fresh basil or coconut or whatever feels right.)

Now it’s back to walking around on an ice-pack. Have a great Sunday!

* For fresh almond milk: Soak 1 cup raw organic almonds in 3-4 cups of water. After a couple hours remove the almonds, peel off their skins, and place the naked nuts in blender or food processor with enough of the soaking water to cover. Grind. Then add remaining soaking water and blend smooth, strain with a cheesecloth/strainer, and you have yourself some delicious stuff. You can add a bit of salt or perhaps dates/agave to sweeten. I save the crushed almond bits in the refrigerator and use them as a facial scrub – just take a bit and make a paste with warm water. You’ll save a lot of money and you’ll smell/taste great

French Crime Wave: Pierrot Le Fou (August 24, 2008)

So I’m pretty sure I broke the second toe on my right foot because it looks like an “L” and it is talking to me a lot. Only now I am realizing how far away I usually am from my feet/toes… I really do ignore those little guys. And I have tripped over the cellar door handle outside my apartment for the last time. Message received.

Fortunately last night I was able to forget my little toe-problems and absorb 110 minutes of the brilliance that is Jean-Luc Godard. Right now (through September 11) the Film Forum is hosting The French Crime Wave, and as you might’ve guessed, I am very excited. I saw Pierrot Le Fou, which was fantastic. I almost feel like I can stake a claim in its epiphany just through witnessing it. The use of color was profound and, as we share national colors with France, the political/social relevancy was undeniable. I only wish we had a few more things in common with the French… c’est la vie.

Anyway it’s hard to think of a sore toe when there are people with scissors going through their necks.

I walked home, writing ferociously as I went (this is how I injure myself), and soaked up the city with new skin. I felt like I was on fire, if not like poor Ferdinand, then at least metaphorically. It is such a blissful event to disappear inside of a masterpiece of art and then emerge newborn. Ah, inspiration.

If you missed Pierrot Le Fou you can order it on TCM, Criterion, or you can get a used copy on Amazon. After watching it I highly suggest listening to some Serge Gainsbourg, and especially “Ford Mustang” and “Comic Strip” with Brigitte Bardot – POW!

I was all wound-up afterwards and debated making jam since the pluots I got earlier were mealy… but I settled on pluot tapioca, which is actually quite nice. (Soak 1/3 cup tapioca pearls in 2 1/2 cups freshly made almond milk* for a couple hours with 1/2 tsp cardamom and a bit of salt. Bring to boil and then reduce heat, stirring for five minutes. Remove from heat, add two cups of the chopped fruit and 1/4 cup maple syrup. Cool and enjoy. Sometimes I add fresh basil or coconut or whatever feels right.)

Now it’s back to walking around on an ice-pack. Have a great Sunday!

* For fresh almond milk: Soak 1 cup raw organic almonds in 3-4 cups of water. After a couple hours remove the almonds, peel off their skins, and place the naked nuts in blender or food processor with enough of the soaking water to cover. Grind. Then add remaining soaking water and blend smooth, strain with a cheesecloth/strainer, and you have yourself some delicious stuff. You can add a bit of salt or perhaps dates/agave to sweeten. I save the crushed almond bits in the refrigerator and use them as a facial scrub – just take a bit and make a paste with warm water. You’ll save a lot of money and you’ll smell/taste great

Rocky Mountain Folks Festival (August 18, 2008)

Right now I’m sitting in the Denver International Airport. There are large fields of satellites and a long strip of car rental lots, but otherwise there’s just flat, empty land – I would never think a major city is nearby. I feel like I’m on another planet, for various reasons. (“Plane” and “planet” are so similar, yet so different – compare origins: PLANE – early 17th cent.: from Latin planum ‘flat surface,’ neuter of the adjective planus ‘plain.’ The adjective was suggested by French plan(e) ‘flat.’ The word was introduced to differentiate the geometric senses, previously expressed by plain 1 , from the latter’s other meanings. PLANET – Middle English : from Old French planete, from late Latin planeta, planetes, from Greek planētēs ‘wanderer, planet,’ from planan ‘wander.’) We wander in planes and on flat planets.

I’m excited to go home. I do not like flying. At all. I freak out. I usually deal with anxiety by cooking like a madwoman and making a great mess and then cleaning ferociously (see above), as I did before I left. I think it’s an attempt to feel in control. Right now I am WISHING I were cooking because there isn’t anything edible around. I made a delicious vegan Irish Soda Bread for the trip out here – I can post the recipe later if I remember it.

Anyway, the road to Lyons… My journey began at the United self-service check-in at LaGuardia. I spent ten minutes in frustration until I realized that I was flying American. I survived two very full flights, thankfully. As I was watching everyone crouch and stoop in misery, waiting to exit the plane, I couldn’t help thinking how remarkable it is that more things don’t go wrong. Sure, flights are delayed and canceled and you have to pay to check bags and no one treats anyone with respect or consideration and it’s nearly impossible to find real food and it smells weird and flying is generally really unpleasant – these things make it even MORE remarkable that more people don’t freak out and kill each other or themselves. Any plane that lands makes for a fantastic flight. That is my one and only condition. Please land in one piece, on earth, on a runway, at my final destination. Whenever I fly somewhere I never really “land” until I complete the trip – knowing that I have to get back on the plane for the return trip holds me in the air even after I touchdown. So it’s been a really disorienting weekend. For the first day I thought I was in Chicago, then I thought I was in Alabama…. (I like the word “air-port.” It’s simple.)

This weekend Lyons experienced torrential rain and unusually cold weather (the Loveland Pass was closed due to snow). Of course I packed tank tops, flip flops, and other August clothing, so I was incredibly grateful to arrive at the festival Friday morning and receive a nice long-sleeve shirt in a gift bag courtesy of ASCAP. I also had my yoga blankets, which I wrapped around me like the lion in the Wizard of Oz when he’s doing his “king of the forest” bit. But I think it’s safe to say all of us were cold and soaked and shivering and chattering for the first forty-eight hours of the fest.

The Folks Showcase kicked off the weekend, and the crowd was a joy to play for. As with Telluride, I was honored to be included in this line-up of talented songwriters and wonderful people. With the Planet Bluegrass shows it always feels like family – very comfortable to be around everyone and no egos. Chuck E. Costa wowed us all with his well-crafted songs and pumpkin pie-voice, and everyone brought something special to the stage. I spent most of the day huddled under the backstage tent, taking advantage of the plentiful hot water and good company of Molly Venter, who earned second place. I also got to see Priscilla Ahn and Madi Diaz at the Wildflower Pavilion, which was another sweet escape from the rain.

Cari Minor getting ready to go on:

Buddha:

Shawn Mullins singing in the rain:

The view from backstage – Dar Williams:

So you all know I’ve been a fan of Josh Ritter for a while… but Friday evening I felt like I was seeing him for the first time. He was channeling something big, and I swear there was this amber glow about him. It was a radiant performance, and because he was solo I could appreciate his stellar songwriting in a new light. In fact, he made it stop raining.

Josh before he sang the rain away:

We were all very sad to see him go and the rain quickly returned. Up next was Patty Griffin, who was also a joy to see. I’ve only heard her Impossible Dream album, so it was a treat to discover her live. There’s no one like her, and I had serious jacket envy:

Then, my favorite of the weekend: Amos Lee. He’s on tour right now, and you know it’s a good show when you’re thinking “I hope he’s heading East” before he’s even finished his set (he’s heading West – boo). One of the best performances I’ve seen in my life. Again, I wasn’t familiar with his songs, and now that seems positively tragic. He has this folk-soul-hip-hop-sexifed rock thing going on that works very well. And he is hilarious – Ann Marie and I were doubled over when cookies emerged and we were treated to a “dip your cookies in the milk, ya’ll” rap as well as a lesson on controlling one’s hips and a temporary ban on “Dr. Suess-dancing” that is so prevalent at festivals.

Amos Lee making some serious love:

My teeth were stampeding antelope when I got back to my car. I declined offers to share a tent and instead headed back to Ft. Collins to a hot shower. I stayed with my cousin and her boyfriend, who is a wonderful young man despite having never heard of Nirvana (like, the band). They are moving AGAIN and were so generous to accommodate this wet rat of a relative. Thanks, guys.

After a very short night of sleep I couldn’t face the rain again, so I spent Saturday morning writing, stretching, and drying my blankets and clothes. Then I got to Lyons just as the sun was coming out to play a songwriter-in-the-round set with Chuck, Robby Hecht, and Mike Morris. The audience was really attentive, as there was a high proportion of songwriters in attendance due to Song School, which was the previous week. This was also kind of intimidating… but I did my thing and after the crowd cleared out I met up with my friend Lara for dinner while Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers soundchecked in the pavilion:

After catching the end of Greg Brown and a little bit of Nanci Griffith (I confess I didn’t stay) I was thrilled to discover that my rental car wasn’t stuck in the mud.

Greg Brown:

Sunday, the sun came out, appropriately. It remained cool, but we were dry so spirits were high. I got to Lyons in time to see Molly, Nathan, and Cari play their round at the Wildflower Pavilion, and all were great. Nathan was singing as I approached and for a moment I thought they were playing a Dylan song. He has this one song about “I still cook for two” that I loved. Cari had a fantastic song about Botox. And Molly is ready to explode. She’s like Ingrid Michaelson with a fiery soul. Her songwriting is pristine and her performance shows that she has gone deep and found center. Look her up now so you can say you knew her when.

I caught Ellis next, who I had never heard of before. She’s absolutely brilliant. Her voice is Edie Brickellish, though I hate to compare because she is completely individual. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She is otherworldly – or maybe superworldly. She gives off energy, on stage and in person, of being on a higher, enlightened plane (there’s that word again). Her sweetness, her joy, her pristine voice, her uniqueness are all an inspiration. She shared her own airport adventure about arriving at the airport with all necessary information except she didn’t know what airline she was flying, and she said that life is kind of like that – going from gate to gate, searching for vital information. Fortunately she made her flight, and I’d like to extend that happy ending to her analogy.

Ellis:

Then I headed back to Main Stage to see Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, who I’d been looking forward to for a while. Again – sheer joy. From the kazoo solos to the interpretive dancing, these guys are a good time, and they completely succeeded in their mission to spread happiness to all present.

Rocking the keytar and the kazoo before some high-energy interpretive dance:

I attracted a shadow over the course of the weekend and I tried to get lost in the crowd for a bit… then met up with Molly, Melanie, Sarah, Kim, and Ann Marie for some hardcore Dr. Suess dancing stage-left during Missy Higgins’ set with her beautiful drummer. And band. The weekend was filled with so many talented women! Girl power.

Missy Higgins and her beautiful band before they stripped-down and braved the St. Vrain River:

Tim O’Brien followed Missy, and there’s something undeniably loveable about him. Then KT Tunstall came out and rocked out – she had everyone on her feet, howling at the moon. Her band was great, but the highlight for me was watching her build a one-woman band on her loop pedal for “Black Horse & the Cherry Tree.” She is the real deal. Her Viennese bass player was rocking an awesome retro look, and I sneaked a picture during Tim O’Brien’s set:

KT Tunstall:

After more dancing, hugs, and a drive back to Ft. Collins I snuck into my cousin’s new home, which is above a barn in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect for them, as she loves horses and they enjoy being away from town… I was a little freaked creeping around this barn in the middle of the night with dogs barking like mad, but there was a key under the “Wipe Your Paws” mat and I passed out as soon as I slipped out of my very muddy sandals.

Now I am sitting beneath the pilots (I am on the floor so I can plug in my laptop) and one of them is saying how she’s “so done with this” and quitting at the end of the month to wait tables… I was feeling okay but now the anxiety level just went up to orange. Deep breaths…

Of course gratitude is the best antidote to fear, and I have a lot to be grateful for – SO MUCH MUSIC that I got to drink in this weekend, beautiful friendships, and the wonderful opportunities from Planet Bluegrass. I can’t wait until next year!

Funny – Stephen Kellogg just rolled by with his suitcase. Anxiety level is back down to yellow.

Rocky Mountain Folks Festival (August 18, 2008)

Right now I’m sitting in the Denver International Airport. There are large fields of satellites and a long strip of car rental lots, but otherwise there’s just flat, empty land – I would never think a major city is nearby. I feel like I’m on another planet, for various reasons. (“Plane” and “planet” are so similar, yet so different – compare origins: PLANE – early 17th cent.: from Latin planum ‘flat surface,’ neuter of the adjective planus ‘plain.’ The adjective was suggested by French plan(e) ‘flat.’ The word was introduced to differentiate the geometric senses, previously expressed by plain 1 , from the latter’s other meanings. PLANET – Middle English : from Old French planete, from late Latin planeta, planetes, from Greek planētēs ‘wanderer, planet,’ from planan ‘wander.’) We wander in planes and on flat planets.

I’m excited to go home. I do not like flying. At all. I freak out. I usually deal with anxiety by cooking like a madwoman and making a great mess and then cleaning ferociously (see above), as I did before I left. I think it’s an attempt to feel in control. Right now I am WISHING I were cooking because there isn’t anything edible around. I made a delicious vegan Irish Soda Bread for the trip out here – I can post the recipe later if I remember it.

Anyway, the road to Lyons… My journey began at the United self-service check-in at LaGuardia. I spent ten minutes in frustration until I realized that I was flying American. I survived two very full flights, thankfully. As I was watching everyone crouch and stoop in misery, waiting to exit the plane, I couldn’t help thinking how remarkable it is that more things don’t go wrong. Sure, flights are delayed and canceled and you have to pay to check bags and no one treats anyone with respect or consideration and it’s nearly impossible to find real food and it smells weird and flying is generally really unpleasant – these things make it even MORE remarkable that more people don’t freak out and kill each other or themselves. Any plane that lands makes for a fantastic flight. That is my one and only condition. Please land in one piece, on earth, on a runway, at my final destination. Whenever I fly somewhere I never really “land” until I complete the trip – knowing that I have to get back on the plane for the return trip holds me in the air even after I touchdown. So it’s been a really disorienting weekend. For the first day I thought I was in Chicago, then I thought I was in Alabama…. (I like the word “air-port.” It’s simple.)

This weekend Lyons experienced torrential rain and unusually cold weather (the Loveland Pass was closed due to snow). Of course I packed tank tops, flip flops, and other August clothing, so I was incredibly grateful to arrive at the festival Friday morning and receive a nice long-sleeve shirt in a gift bag courtesy of ASCAP. I also had my yoga blankets, which I wrapped around me like the lion in the Wizard of Oz when he’s doing his “king of the forest” bit. But I think it’s safe to say all of us were cold and soaked and shivering and chattering for the first forty-eight hours of the fest.

The Folks Showcase kicked off the weekend, and the crowd was a joy to play for. As with Telluride, I was honored to be included in this line-up of talented songwriters and wonderful people. With the Planet Bluegrass shows it always feels like family – very comfortable to be around everyone and no egos. Chuck E. Costa wowed us all with his well-crafted songs and pumpkin pie-voice, and everyone brought something special to the stage. I spent most of the day huddled under the backstage tent, taking advantage of the plentiful hot water and good company of Molly Venter, who earned second place. I also got to see Priscilla Ahn and Madi Diaz at the Wildflower Pavilion, which was another sweet escape from the rain.

Cari Minor getting ready to go on:

Buddha:

Shawn Mullins singing in the rain:

The view from backstage – Dar Williams:

So you all know I’ve been a fan of Josh Ritter for a while… but Friday evening I felt like I was seeing him for the first time. He was channeling something big, and I swear there was this amber glow about him. It was a radiant performance, and because he was solo I could appreciate his stellar songwriting in a new light. In fact, he made it stop raining.

Josh before he sang the rain away:

We were all very sad to see him go and the rain quickly returned. Up next was Patty Griffin, who was also a joy to see. I’ve only heard her Impossible Dream album, so it was a treat to discover her live. There’s no one like her, and I had serious jacket envy:

Then, my favorite of the weekend: Amos Lee. He’s on tour right now, and you know it’s a good show when you’re thinking “I hope he’s heading East” before he’s even finished his set (he’s heading West – boo). One of the best performances I’ve seen in my life. Again, I wasn’t familiar with his songs, and now that seems positively tragic. He has this folk-soul-hip-hop-sexifed rock thing going on that works very well. And he is hilarious – Ann Marie and I were doubled over when cookies emerged and we were treated to a “dip your cookies in the milk, ya’ll” rap as well as a lesson on controlling one’s hips and a temporary ban on “Dr. Suess-dancing” that is so prevalent at festivals.

Amos Lee making some serious love:

My teeth were stampeding antelope when I got back to my car. I declined offers to share a tent and instead headed back to Ft. Collins to a hot shower. I stayed with my cousin and her boyfriend, who is a wonderful young man despite having never heard of Nirvana (like, the band). They are moving AGAIN and were so generous to accommodate this wet rat of a relative. Thanks, guys.

After a very short night of sleep I couldn’t face the rain again, so I spent Saturday morning writing, stretching, and drying my blankets and clothes. Then I got to Lyons just as the sun was coming out to play a songwriter-in-the-round set with Chuck, Robby Hecht, and Mike Morris. The audience was really attentive, as there was a high proportion of songwriters in attendance due to Song School, which was the previous week. This was also kind of intimidating… but I did my thing and after the crowd cleared out I met up with my friend Lara for dinner while Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers soundchecked in the pavilion:

After catching the end of Greg Brown and a little bit of Nanci Griffith (I confess I didn’t stay) I was thrilled to discover that my rental car wasn’t stuck in the mud.

Greg Brown:

Sunday, the sun came out, appropriately. It remained cool, but we were dry so spirits were high. I got to Lyons in time to see Molly, Nathan, and Cari play their round at the Wildflower Pavilion, and all were great. Nathan was singing as I approached and for a moment I thought they were playing a Dylan song. He has this one song about “I still cook for two” that I loved. Cari had a fantastic song about Botox. And Molly is ready to explode. She’s like Ingrid Michaelson with a fiery soul. Her songwriting is pristine and her performance shows that she has gone deep and found center. Look her up now so you can say you knew her when.

I caught Ellis next, who I had never heard of before. She’s absolutely brilliant. Her voice is Edie Brickellish, though I hate to compare because she is completely individual. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She is otherworldly – or maybe superworldly. She gives off energy, on stage and in person, of being on a higher, enlightened plane (there’s that word again). Her sweetness, her joy, her pristine voice, her uniqueness are all an inspiration. She shared her own airport adventure about arriving at the airport with all necessary information except she didn’t know what airline she was flying, and she said that life is kind of like that – going from gate to gate, searching for vital information. Fortunately she made her flight, and I’d like to extend that happy ending to her analogy.

Ellis:

Then I headed back to Main Stage to see Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, who I’d been looking forward to for a while. Again – sheer joy. From the kazoo solos to the interpretive dancing, these guys are a good time, and they completely succeeded in their mission to spread happiness to all present.

Rocking the keytar and the kazoo before some high-energy interpretive dance:

I attracted a shadow over the course of the weekend and I tried to get lost in the crowd for a bit… then met up with Molly, Melanie, Sarah, Kim, and Ann Marie for some hardcore Dr. Suess dancing stage-left during Missy Higgins’ set with her beautiful drummer. And band. The weekend was filled with so many talented women! Girl power.

Missy Higgins and her beautiful band before they stripped-down and braved the St. Vrain River:

Tim O’Brien followed Missy, and there’s something undeniably loveable about him. Then KT Tunstall came out and rocked out – she had everyone on her feet, howling at the moon. Her band was great, but the highlight for me was watching her build a one-woman band on her loop pedal for “Black Horse & the Cherry Tree.” She is the real deal. Her Viennese bass player was rocking an awesome retro look, and I sneaked a picture during Tim O’Brien’s set:

KT Tunstall:

After more dancing, hugs, and a drive back to Ft. Collins I snuck into my cousin’s new home, which is above a barn in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect for them, as she loves horses and they enjoy being away from town… I was a little freaked creeping around this barn in the middle of the night with dogs barking like mad, but there was a key under the “Wipe Your Paws” mat and I passed out as soon as I slipped out of my very muddy sandals.

Now I am sitting beneath the pilots (I am on the floor so I can plug in my laptop) and one of them is saying how she’s “so done with this” and quitting at the end of the month to wait tables… I was feeling okay but now the anxiety level just went up to orange. Deep breaths…

Of course gratitude is the best antidote to fear, and I have a lot to be grateful for – SO MUCH MUSIC that I got to drink in this weekend, beautiful friendships, and the wonderful opportunities from Planet Bluegrass. I can’t wait until next year!

Funny – Stephen Kellogg just rolled by with his suitcase. Anxiety level is back down to yellow.

Rocky Mountain Folks Festival (August 18, 2008)

Right now I’m sitting in the Denver International Airport. There are large fields of satellites and a long strip of car rental lots, but otherwise there’s just flat, empty land – I would never think a major city is nearby. I feel like I’m on another planet, for various reasons. (“Plane” and “planet” are so similar, yet so different – compare origins: PLANE – early 17th cent.: from Latin planum ‘flat surface,’ neuter of the adjective planus ‘plain.’ The adjective was suggested by French plan(e) ‘flat.’ The word was introduced to differentiate the geometric senses, previously expressed by plain 1 , from the latter’s other meanings. PLANET – Middle English : from Old French planete, from late Latin planeta, planetes, from Greek planētēs ‘wanderer, planet,’ from planan ‘wander.’) We wander in planes and on flat planets.

I’m excited to go home. I do not like flying. At all. I freak out. I usually deal with anxiety by cooking like a madwoman and making a great mess and then cleaning ferociously (see above), as I did before I left. I think it’s an attempt to feel in control. Right now I am WISHING I were cooking because there isn’t anything edible around. I made a delicious vegan Irish Soda Bread for the trip out here – I can post the recipe later if I remember it.

Anyway, the road to Lyons… My journey began at the United self-service check-in at LaGuardia. I spent ten minutes in frustration until I realized that I was flying American. I survived two very full flights, thankfully. As I was watching everyone crouch and stoop in misery, waiting to exit the plane, I couldn’t help thinking how remarkable it is that more things don’t go wrong. Sure, flights are delayed and canceled and you have to pay to check bags and no one treats anyone with respect or consideration and it’s nearly impossible to find real food and it smells weird and flying is generally really unpleasant – these things make it even MORE remarkable that more people don’t freak out and kill each other or themselves. Any plane that lands makes for a fantastic flight. That is my one and only condition. Please land in one piece, on earth, on a runway, at my final destination. Whenever I fly somewhere I never really “land” until I complete the trip – knowing that I have to get back on the plane for the return trip holds me in the air even after I touchdown. So it’s been a really disorienting weekend. For the first day I thought I was in Chicago, then I thought I was in Alabama…. (I like the word “air-port.” It’s simple.)

This weekend Lyons experienced torrential rain and unusually cold weather (the Loveland Pass was closed due to snow). Of course I packed tank tops, flip flops, and other August clothing, so I was incredibly grateful to arrive at the festival Friday morning and receive a nice long-sleeve shirt in a gift bag courtesy of ASCAP. I also had my yoga blankets, which I wrapped around me like the lion in the Wizard of Oz when he’s doing his “king of the forest” bit. But I think it’s safe to say all of us were cold and soaked and shivering and chattering for the first forty-eight hours of the fest.

The Folks Showcase kicked off the weekend, and the crowd was a joy to play for. As with Telluride, I was honored to be included in this line-up of talented songwriters and wonderful people. With the Planet Bluegrass shows it always feels like family – very comfortable to be around everyone and no egos. Chuck E. Costa wowed us all with his well-crafted songs and pumpkin pie-voice, and everyone brought something special to the stage. I spent most of the day huddled under the backstage tent, taking advantage of the plentiful hot water and good company of Molly Venter, who earned second place. I also got to see Priscilla Ahn and Madi Diaz at the Wildflower Pavilion, which was another sweet escape from the rain.

Cari Minor getting ready to go on:

Buddha:

Shawn Mullins singing in the rain:

The view from backstage – Dar Williams:

So you all know I’ve been a fan of Josh Ritter for a while… but Friday evening I felt like I was seeing him for the first time. He was channeling something big, and I swear there was this amber glow about him. It was a radiant performance, and because he was solo I could appreciate his stellar songwriting in a new light. In fact, he made it stop raining.

Josh before he sang the rain away:

We were all very sad to see him go and the rain quickly returned. Up next was Patty Griffin, who was also a joy to see. I’ve only heard her Impossible Dream album, so it was a treat to discover her live. There’s no one like her, and I had serious jacket envy:

Then, my favorite of the weekend: Amos Lee. He’s on tour right now, and you know it’s a good show when you’re thinking “I hope he’s heading East” before he’s even finished his set (he’s heading West – boo). One of the best performances I’ve seen in my life. Again, I wasn’t familiar with his songs, and now that seems positively tragic. He has this folk-soul-hip-hop-sexifed rock thing going on that works very well. And he is hilarious – Ann Marie and I were doubled over when cookies emerged and we were treated to a “dip your cookies in the milk, ya’ll” rap as well as a lesson on controlling one’s hips and a temporary ban on “Dr. Suess-dancing” that is so prevalent at festivals.

Amos Lee making some serious love:

My teeth were stampeding antelope when I got back to my car. I declined offers to share a tent and instead headed back to Ft. Collins to a hot shower. I stayed with my cousin and her boyfriend, who is a wonderful young man despite having never heard of Nirvana (like, the band). They are moving AGAIN and were so generous to accommodate this wet rat of a relative. Thanks, guys.

After a very short night of sleep I couldn’t face the rain again, so I spent Saturday morning writing, stretching, and drying my blankets and clothes. Then I got to Lyons just as the sun was coming out to play a songwriter-in-the-round set with Chuck, Robby Hecht, and Mike Morris. The audience was really attentive, as there was a high proportion of songwriters in attendance due to Song School, which was the previous week. This was also kind of intimidating… but I did my thing and after the crowd cleared out I met up with my friend Lara for dinner while Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers soundchecked in the pavilion:

After catching the end of Greg Brown and a little bit of Nanci Griffith (I confess I didn’t stay) I was thrilled to discover that my rental car wasn’t stuck in the mud.

Greg Brown:

Sunday, the sun came out, appropriately. It remained cool, but we were dry so spirits were high. I got to Lyons in time to see Molly, Nathan, and Cari play their round at the Wildflower Pavilion, and all were great. Nathan was singing as I approached and for a moment I thought they were playing a Dylan song. He has this one song about “I still cook for two” that I loved. Cari had a fantastic song about Botox. And Molly is ready to explode. She’s like Ingrid Michaelson with a fiery soul. Her songwriting is pristine and her performance shows that she has gone deep and found center. Look her up now so you can say you knew her when.

I caught Ellis next, who I had never heard of before. She’s absolutely brilliant. Her voice is Edie Brickellish, though I hate to compare because she is completely individual. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She is otherworldly – or maybe superworldly. She gives off energy, on stage and in person, of being on a higher, enlightened plane (there’s that word again). Her sweetness, her joy, her pristine voice, her uniqueness are all an inspiration. She shared her own airport adventure about arriving at the airport with all necessary information except she didn’t know what airline she was flying, and she said that life is kind of like that – going from gate to gate, searching for vital information. Fortunately she made her flight, and I’d like to extend that happy ending to her analogy.

Ellis:

Then I headed back to Main Stage to see Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, who I’d been looking forward to for a while. Again – sheer joy. From the kazoo solos to the interpretive dancing, these guys are a good time, and they completely succeeded in their mission to spread happiness to all present.

Rocking the keytar and the kazoo before some high-energy interpretive dance:

I attracted a shadow over the course of the weekend and I tried to get lost in the crowd for a bit… then met up with Molly, Melanie, Sarah, Kim, and Ann Marie for some hardcore Dr. Suess dancing stage-left during Missy Higgins’ set with her beautiful drummer. And band. The weekend was filled with so many talented women! Girl power.

Missy Higgins and her beautiful band before they stripped-down and braved the St. Vrain River:

Tim O’Brien followed Missy, and there’s something undeniably loveable about him. Then KT Tunstall came out and rocked out – she had everyone on her feet, howling at the moon. Her band was great, but the highlight for me was watching her build a one-woman band on her loop pedal for “Black Horse & the Cherry Tree.” She is the real deal. Her Viennese bass player was rocking an awesome retro look, and I sneaked a picture during Tim O’Brien’s set:

KT Tunstall:

After more dancing, hugs, and a drive back to Ft. Collins I snuck into my cousin’s new home, which is above a barn in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect for them, as she loves horses and they enjoy being away from town… I was a little freaked creeping around this barn in the middle of the night with dogs barking like mad, but there was a key under the “Wipe Your Paws” mat and I passed out as soon as I slipped out of my very muddy sandals.

Now I am sitting beneath the pilots (I am on the floor so I can plug in my laptop) and one of them is saying how she’s “so done with this” and quitting at the end of the month to wait tables… I was feeling okay but now the anxiety level just went up to orange. Deep breaths…

Of course gratitude is the best antidote to fear, and I have a lot to be grateful for – SO MUCH MUSIC that I got to drink in this weekend, beautiful friendships, and the wonderful opportunities from Planet Bluegrass. I can’t wait until next year!

Funny – Stephen Kellogg just rolled by with his suitcase. Anxiety level is back down to yellow.

Goodbye July (July 31, 2008)

I just saw my friend Audrey Ryan play the Living Room. She has a killer voice and the last song she played, “I Should Be Alone,” was one of those songs that you can inhabit, rather than simply hear. She looped her guitar as she beat the kick drum with her right foot and the tambourine with her left and all I could think was, yes, you SHOULD be alone because nothing could make this song more perfect right now. She’s a one-woman band, and a great one at that. The lyrics were killer, too – something about I don’t want to be a toothpick in a little piece of ham and “I spent my twenties watching DVDs with a man I didn’t love/ What is this disease?”

It was a good music day, for sure. I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with a brilliant three-year-old who told me “I want a red guitar like the one Jerry plays in ‘Uncle John’s Band.’” I swear to god. She also said before we went outside to play in the sprinkler and blow bubbles and make flower soup we had to “wait until after ‘Scarlet Begonias’,” except it sounded more like “skalabagonas.” Thanks to this one child my I now have faith in the future of our species. Her parents are obviously doing a marvelous job. We watched the Dead play “Uncle John’s Band” at least ten times before the bubble-blowing commenced, and each time was as mesmerizing as the first.

Rewinding a little further, this past weekend was the Great Waters Music Festival in Wolfeboro, NH and I am happy to report that I won the songwriting contest. A nice thing to add to the resume and the piggy bank, and it was pretty cool to share my water songs while listening to the waves lap against the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. I met some fantastic musicians, including Emilia Dahlin (last year’s winner), Anais Mitchell, and Catie Curtis. Saturday’s highlight was the guitar-violin duel during the Waybacks’ set, which had me dreaming about the violin for days. I just might be ready to dust it off, though I won’t be playing like Warren for many lifetimes.

A tornado passed through NH the day before the festival, and we’ve been having some nice summer storms in here in NYC, too. These two pictures were both taken around midnight – the lightning made it as bright as day, as you can see:

I thought that was cool.

Also of note, a couple days ago I played the Living Room with my friend John Houx, who is one of my favorite songwriters and performers. He makes me want to lock myself in a cabin and write until my eyes bleed. Which is kind of what I do… minus the eye-bleeding. That’s gross. I debuted a couple of songs I’ve written since I’ve been home… once the harvest comes I’ll stick some mp3s up here for all of you.

Other music news… went to Ten Out of Tenn at the Canal Room Tuesday night. I’ve been a fan of Tyler James and Andy Davis for a while, so they were my faves. I really wanted to hear Trent Dabbs‘ “Riverbell Garden,” as it makes my knuckles dance… it looked like a fun tour to be a part of, as everyone was backing each other up and rotating songs. Of course nothing could touch “I Shall Be Released,” which ended the night in a big sing-a-long in the middle of the room. Dylan is always there. His music truly is oxygen. What would we be without it? Would we be?

Lastly, I went to Coney Island for the first and last time for the Siren Music Festival. I spent less time at the festival than I did on the subway, though – I liked Broken Social Scene a lot, but the sweat, screaming, and garbage was more than I could handle. I am so inspired when I see people swarming to these festivals where you can’t see a damn thing – it’s wonderful that people care that much about live music. (Or maybe it’s the pina coladas.) I just can’t do it anymore. I gave that up after IT (though I’d do it all over again to hear that “YEM“).

The sunset was stunning.

Hello, August. Where did July go? Hope you’re all staying cool.

Goodbye July (July 31, 2008)

I just saw my friend Audrey Ryan play the Living Room. She has a killer voice and the last song she played, “I Should Be Alone,” was one of those songs that you can inhabit, rather than simply hear. She looped her guitar as she beat the kick drum with her right foot and the tambourine with her left and all I could think was, yes, you SHOULD be alone because nothing could make this song more perfect right now. She’s a one-woman band, and a great one at that. The lyrics were killer, too – something about I don’t want to be a toothpick in a little piece of ham and “I spent my twenties watching DVDs with a man I didn’t love/ What is this disease?”

It was a good music day, for sure. I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with a brilliant three-year-old who told me “I want a red guitar like the one Jerry plays in ‘Uncle John’s Band.’” I swear to god. She also said before we went outside to play in the sprinkler and blow bubbles and make flower soup we had to “wait until after ‘Scarlet Begonias’,” except it sounded more like “skalabagonas.” Thanks to this one child my I now have faith in the future of our species. Her parents are obviously doing a marvelous job. We watched the Dead play “Uncle John’s Band” at least ten times before the bubble-blowing commenced, and each time was as mesmerizing as the first.

Rewinding a little further, this past weekend was the Great Waters Music Festival in Wolfeboro, NH and I am happy to report that I won the songwriting contest. A nice thing to add to the resume and the piggy bank, and it was pretty cool to share my water songs while listening to the waves lap against the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. I met some fantastic musicians, including Emilia Dahlin (last year’s winner), Anais Mitchell, and Catie Curtis. Saturday’s highlight was the guitar-violin duel during the Waybacks’ set, which had me dreaming about the violin for days. I just might be ready to dust it off, though I won’t be playing like Warren for many lifetimes.

A tornado passed through NH the day before the festival, and we’ve been having some nice summer storms in here in NYC, too. These two pictures were both taken around midnight – the lightning made it as bright as day, as you can see:

I thought that was cool.

Also of note, a couple days ago I played the Living Room with my friend John Houx, who is one of my favorite songwriters and performers. He makes me want to lock myself in a cabin and write until my eyes bleed. Which is kind of what I do… minus the eye-bleeding. That’s gross. I debuted a couple of songs I’ve written since I’ve been home… once the harvest comes I’ll stick some mp3s up here for all of you.

Other music news… went to Ten Out of Tenn at the Canal Room Tuesday night. I’ve been a fan of Tyler James and Andy Davis for a while, so they were my faves. I really wanted to hear Trent Dabbs‘ “Riverbell Garden,” as it makes my knuckles dance… it looked like a fun tour to be a part of, as everyone was backing each other up and rotating songs. Of course nothing could touch “I Shall Be Released,” which ended the night in a big sing-a-long in the middle of the room. Dylan is always there. His music truly is oxygen. What would we be without it? Would we be?

Lastly, I went to Coney Island for the first and last time for the Siren Music Festival. I spent less time at the festival than I did on the subway, though – I liked Broken Social Scene a lot, but the sweat, screaming, and garbage was more than I could handle. I am so inspired when I see people swarming to these festivals where you can’t see a damn thing – it’s wonderful that people care that much about live music. (Or maybe it’s the pina coladas.) I just can’t do it anymore. I gave that up after IT (though I’d do it all over again to hear that “YEM“).

The sunset was stunning.

Hello, August. Where did July go? Hope you’re all staying cool.

Goodbye July (July 31, 2008)

I just saw my friend Audrey Ryan play the Living Room. She has a killer voice and the last song she played, “I Should Be Alone,” was one of those songs that you can inhabit, rather than simply hear. She looped her guitar as she beat the kick drum with her right foot and the tambourine with her left and all I could think was, yes, you SHOULD be alone because nothing could make this song more perfect right now. She’s a one-woman band, and a great one at that. The lyrics were killer, too – something about I don’t want to be a toothpick in a little piece of ham and “I spent my twenties watching DVDs with a man I didn’t love/ What is this disease?”

It was a good music day, for sure. I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with a brilliant three-year-old who told me “I want a red guitar like the one Jerry plays in ‘Uncle John’s Band.’” I swear to god. She also said before we went outside to play in the sprinkler and blow bubbles and make flower soup we had to “wait until after ‘Scarlet Begonias’,” except it sounded more like “skalabagonas.” Thanks to this one child my I now have faith in the future of our species. Her parents are obviously doing a marvelous job. We watched the Dead play “Uncle John’s Band” at least ten times before the bubble-blowing commenced, and each time was as mesmerizing as the first.

Rewinding a little further, this past weekend was the Great Waters Music Festival in Wolfeboro, NH and I am happy to report that I won the songwriting contest. A nice thing to add to the resume and the piggy bank, and it was pretty cool to share my water songs while listening to the waves lap against the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. I met some fantastic musicians, including Emilia Dahlin (last year’s winner), Anais Mitchell, and Catie Curtis. Saturday’s highlight was the guitar-violin duel during the Waybacks’ set, which had me dreaming about the violin for days. I just might be ready to dust it off, though I won’t be playing like Warren for many lifetimes.

A tornado passed through NH the day before the festival, and we’ve been having some nice summer storms in here in NYC, too. These two pictures were both taken around midnight – the lightning made it as bright as day, as you can see:

I thought that was cool.

Also of note, a couple days ago I played the Living Room with my friend John Houx, who is one of my favorite songwriters and performers. He makes me want to lock myself in a cabin and write until my eyes bleed. Which is kind of what I do… minus the eye-bleeding. That’s gross. I debuted a couple of songs I’ve written since I’ve been home… once the harvest comes I’ll stick some mp3s up here for all of you.

Other music news… went to Ten Out of Tenn at the Canal Room Tuesday night. I’ve been a fan of Tyler James and Andy Davis for a while, so they were my faves. I really wanted to hear Trent Dabbs‘ “Riverbell Garden,” as it makes my knuckles dance… it looked like a fun tour to be a part of, as everyone was backing each other up and rotating songs. Of course nothing could touch “I Shall Be Released,” which ended the night in a big sing-a-long in the middle of the room. Dylan is always there. His music truly is oxygen. What would we be without it? Would we be?

Lastly, I went to Coney Island for the first and last time for the Siren Music Festival. I spent less time at the festival than I did on the subway, though – I liked Broken Social Scene a lot, but the sweat, screaming, and garbage was more than I could handle. I am so inspired when I see people swarming to these festivals where you can’t see a damn thing – it’s wonderful that people care that much about live music. (Or maybe it’s the pina coladas.) I just can’t do it anymore. I gave that up after IT (though I’d do it all over again to hear that “YEM“).

The sunset was stunning.

Hello, August. Where did July go? Hope you’re all staying cool.