Cooper Two and the Ghost Town Blues

“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”

- John Muir

Peale, Pennsylvania

Corn::rows. Corn::rows. Corn::rows. Corn::rows. Picturesque view. Trees; rocks. Trees; rocks. Trees; rocks. Fields. Woods. Rolling hills. Picturesque view. 

There are a lot of great dirt roads to creep along on in my hometown vicinity. By that I don’t mean being a creeper in the creepy sense but rather a creeper in the Jeepy sense. Priscilla is my Jeep’s name, she’s a Patriot and she named herself. She’s been good to me so far, I try my best to be good to her. She’s white like a queen’s horse and basic like a bitch. She’s a 5-speed, she’s durable and she loves taking it slow. Dirt roads are the best, change my mind. There are quite a few to choose from around here. I usually do a Turkey Street scoot every day after getting the mail, a loop around Drain Lick perhaps. A short journey out to Sylvan Grove at times, there are some great trees out there. That’s all on Drifting side. There are several local haunts of interest for the slow traveler. When the boys fall asleep after I drop Celie off at school I just drive around back roads and let them sleep awhile lest I wake them up taking them inside. Sometimes I cut across Pearce Hollow. It’s cathartic and metaphoric, taking it slow. I get to gather my thoughts between the onslaught of noises and responsibilities that has become my life. I get “alone” time. Plus, I get one on one time. Me and Bob Dylan. Me and Tom Petty. Me and [Insert Artist Here]. Me and Podcasters. Me and the closest I can come to a near silence, filled only with the creaks of Priscilla’s bones and a slow, looped roll of rubber over dirt. Our din mimicking the antiquated sounds of a wobbly suspension on a carriage over dusty road, my white mare pulling me through the trees. There’s something wonderful about Jeep rides; not being covered in kids, listening to their cries or screams, a brief sliver of time without demands when they are restrained and harnessed and I am at the reins. I’m basically Aunt Bethany from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: “I love riding in cars!” I like it when I’m driving, anyway. Or when someone I trust is behind the wheel, then it’s a good time. I’ve been on a few hell rides in my life, though. Luckily, I’ve been on some terrific treks as well.  

All of October I drove around taking in the foliage. Daily, I would witness these trees changing before my eyes. It seems to happen so slowly until one day you realize you are looking at the skeletal limbs and trunk of an empty tree you had just watched go through a brilliant display of transition. Full of leaves and color, a moving portrait and then bam—a few wind storms and some rain, a little drop in temperature, and they are gone. Lost forever, fallen to rot at the tree’s base, becoming nutrients for the next season’s show. It’s a cool thing to witness and I am glad to live where we get a good view of the seasonal changes but it can make you sad. It's kind of tragically heartbreaking. Imagine if you didn't know whether or not spring would come. Do you think the trees know their leaves will return? It's hard to keep in mind that the sun will swing back when it starts to move away and leaves us in darkness. The transition of fall into winter can be a hard symbol for that. The cold sets in and you can feel it in your bones.

I used to let my friend Leslie drive me around while I wrote. She’d take the wheel of my Dodge Caliber and we’d go on an adventure through the trees, into the woods, or sometimes elsewhere. She epically drove me all the way to Memphis, Tennessee for my 35th birthday. She also drove me down into Kato, once, and until then I had never been. Kato is a ghost town in her neck of the woods, accessed through Snow Shoe. It also happens to be where my paternal Pap hails from. It’s literally “a town that no longer exists”; it’s just roads through trees and some big rocks and a bridge, I believe. On August 29, 2013 Leslie and I drove to multiple locations as my daughter napped in the back seat, similar to what I do alone now with the boys napping in the back of the Jeep. I, with my trusted red-at-the-time Life Liver's Log spiral notebook in hand (to represent the Muladhara chakra, no less) wrote a song of sorts that day, still a fetus, each verse, a stop on our travels. As simple of a thing as that was, those were some of the best times I’ve had. All I ever really needed was a witness. Leslie came around a lot right at a time when I needed it the most. The years we spent together as friends will always be some of my fondest and even though they were some of my hardest, they were also some of my most "veil-lifting" times. I was writing a lot of odes and sonnets at the time. Manically writing; wound up as my base state, I could unwind and decompress on our car rides. The trees would help ground me. We were just two air signs looking for some earth. We could bullshit somewhat as well while I wrote because I am apt to and adept at dividing focus and Leslie was someone that I felt comfortable with and trusted because she was as equally forthcoming with me as I was with her. For some reason we spoke to each other, mirrored each other...understood each other? Leslie accepted me as me, whoever that was. She also put up with a shit ton of pressured speeches from me. I am grateful for her ability to witness me and for her tolerance of my soliloquies  and lectures which would take place in between the writing. She knew that I often spoke the truth so she took it even when it hurt. She was truly Rock Star about not just simply kicking my ass, though, because she could have, but she loved me and I loved her. Abrasion often rides shotgun with Truth. It polishes by rubbing and it’s often the wrong way. I was just trying to help her out, but the truth is I wasn’t always right. Sometimes I was just mad. She also once told me that I was self-centered. She wasn’t wrong; I was in the midst of an extended episode at the time. I tend to get grandiose. I also am highly distractible and can frustrate people if they need or want my undivided attention. I’ve used her comment for self-reflection ever since, because it hurt, as quipped truths often do. I have since apologized for my abrasive bluntness, or being a bitch, or what have you, and I am grateful that I did have that opportunity. She, in turn, has handed me a few hard, grinding truths as well. Leslie was a real gem, a Dusty Diamond, to be exact. She was a muse. She was a friend. We shared a true kinship. People like that are extremely rare and precious, like jewels in the junkyard of life. This I know to be true, especially when you have trust issues. Diamonds in the rough are a little dusty but shiny and priceless when given a polish. I considered her to be in my innermost circle of trust, which, at the time, only really included my husband. I told her things that I have told no other human or animal. I think it was a divine symbiosis, a mutual decompression. She, likewise, shared a lot of her secrets with me. Our companionship was just what each of us needed at the time. It was also one of the best gifts that she ever gave me and I am grateful for that. She made a real difference in my life. 

Heading back from the dust to the dirt, it’s a privilege to have so many dirt roads to take it slow and decompress on. Grassflat and Drifting are almost like sister villages, nestled on the mountaintop. I spent a bit of time there as a kid. My brother and I would ride with my father through Cooper Two to get there; it’s a dirt road that connects them named after the old Cooper Two coal mine. I’ve traveled this road many times in my youth but not as often as of late. These past months I’ve expanded the stretch of my local drives. I found Cooper Two surreally different because I always, for some reason, expect my childhood  ride home. That Cooper Two is long gone. So is that Grassflat and that Drifting for that matter. Last month during my foliage rides I moseyed out to Peale, which is connected to Grassflat but it also, in a haunting way, no longer exists. Oddly enough, Peale is the ghost town from my neck of the woods, like the mountaintop Kato. I hadn’t been down to Peale since April of this year, when I was still pregnant with Otis. People go to Peale for many reasons, mostly recreational now. The Red Mo race launches from there, of course. Four wheelers have access to Gorton through the tunnel and out to the Viaduct bridge through Peale. I used to ride out on 4 wheelers with my brother when we were kids looking for old bottles on the hillsides, pulling them out from underneath the layers of dead leaves and sediment like we were digging back in time. We found some pretty neat ones. People have camped, drove, rode, walked, and boated in Peale. Some people just come for the spirits, or in an attempt to lift or find theirs. Peale is almost a local Mecca, a local haunt for self-seeking and escape: holy ground. 

Peale, Pennsylvania was an old mining town founded in the late 1800s when the Beech Creek Railroad line was the main way into places. It once held near 2,500 people that relied on the coal mines or railroad for their bread and butter. It was owned by the coal company. After the town diminished with the active train line and mines, people slowly dispersed, some moving up into Grassflat. Several houses as well as a church are in Grassflat now that were from Peale. There were only two camps left in Peale when I was young and now there is only one, as well as a garage structure. One camp was burnt down years ago and it still makes me sickeningly sad. Only one real structure remains and the foundations of some things but you can walk out to look for the lone grave of Martha Renfrew, the only marked grave left in the Oakwood Cemetery. She was aged 14 years, 11 months by the inscription on her tombstone. This was all so fascinating as a kid. At some point, somebody put up a sign to mark the Oakwood Cemetery. I can remember this and it doesn’t seem that long ago but now the words on the sign have since been destroyed and nothing remains  aside from the side posts and a few small boards that a dark piece of fabric is tied to. The changes that this land has gone through during my lifetime alone are phenomenal. To think back farther to when it was a bustling hillside community of over 2,000 is about enough to blow your mind. 

Although not from the bustling Peale days, one structure has remained for at least my entire lifetime, and that’s the bridge, however it is really starting to show its age. Anyone local who’s anyone local has some memory of this bridge and probably that big crack in the side that seems so much bigger than I remember it being  every time I see it. But it’s a reminder that bridges will eventually crumble. Rebar protrudes from the cracking concrete, a strong skeleton that will only keep the bridge together so long. Time wears on everything; everything eventually turns to dust. I’d spent the past two months watching the leaves fall and transition, thinking of how many changes I have endured during my short lifetime alone and how many more await me. 

And so there I sat on the Peale bridge at the reins of Priscilla pondering the past with one too many ghosts riding shotgun. We try to reach back with our minds, like I dug with my brother into the dirt, excavating for any unbroken remnant to hold in our hands. Our shined up, dirt-plucked vessel can be a wonderful memento and it will even hold water but it’s place is in the past and therefore it’s a relic. 

Peale looks entirely different today than it did as a kid. The drive across Cooper Two is the same way. Entire hillsides are cleared. Peale Camp has burnt down. So many trees are gone. The landscape is drastically different and it hollows it out, making it seem less of a shelter but more of a marvel, because it opens up the hillsides to the expanse of trees and better shows the distance from here to there. You can get a glimpse of the forest through the trees now. It all seems so far away. Going to a ghost town is akin to visiting a graveyard.  Lost in time, a fog from long ago settles over your  mind. These hills used to be filled with homes, people, families...life. My gram’s sister lived in one of the last houses out here. Some were moved board by board to be reassembled in Grassflat. The church was moved. Peale was a once bustling country town set up with all the trappings of a city and is now a quiet place of refuge and recreation. The Red Moshannon has brought its race crowds, though, time has been unwinding here for decades, the mines still bleed into her beds and mark the creek with their rusted blood. Enjoy her splendor but don’t drink the water. 

The lines from the Day Song seem even more pertinent today, as well as my embryonic Dusty Diamond lines, in a ghostly way: "All alone with those inner demons...where's it hurtin' tonight girl?" In an attempt to understand the present we try to reach back into the past with our minds but the past will never come back to you. We remain haunted like these towns are by the specter of the past. But maybe it can be a friendly ghost? 

Verse 1:

I went to an old house sitting out in a field.

My body was shaking, my spirit was thrilled. 

Empty without the life that we bring.

Silent without the songs that we sing. 

Oh, but it’s still standing. 

And I think it always will. 

Verse 2:

I went to a town that no longer exists.

I give into whatever my spirit insists. 

Once upon a time, maybe we were trees.

Twin oaks, side by side, all in a dream.

Oh, but we’re still standing.

And I feel we always will. 

Verse 3: 

I went to a church that holds no services.

My spirit is pious, despite its perverseness. 

Echoes throughout with the sound of silence.

No evil, no anger, no hate, and no violence. 

Oh, and it’s still standing. 

And I believe it always will. 

Verse 4:

I went to the hilltop and gazed at the mountains. 

The clouds were rollin’ and my spirit was shoutin’. 

Open expanse of trees and sky; 

Will your memory never die? 

Oh, no, it’s still standing,

And I know it always will. 

CHORUS: 

On my way home I came to the crossroads,

I took a wrong turn into one of my episodes.

I got stuck in the mud, shed a little blood.

I’ve been having these visions for years,

Wiping tears through the forest of fears,

And I’m headin’ home the hard way. 

Boyd's Song: An Anniversary Tune

http://youtu.be/bL_lhRBiUAk

So I wrote this song about a year back about my buddy Boyd. It's a total day-in-the-life tune about our days together before he died. He was one hell of a guy and I was prompted to record this on the 5th anniversary of his death.

Rest in peace, Boyd!

I wrote this song last year with my buddy Boyd (in mind) that died on September 9th, 2010. So much sadness and heartache, but I think this song is silly and fun, just like Boyd, and is a testament to what he would want us to have learned from his life and death...remember the good times. Make your own music. Don't be so serious. Lighten up. Take a joke. Be yourself. Please don't mind the finches and the glitches; this was just on my iPhone this morning when I had a moment. Since we're sharing...and I have been silent...and he is always on my mind this time of year...I figured that I should record it in honor of the 5th anniversary of his death. He was very involved in it's creation. Love never dies; it only changes form.                               

Boyd's Song:  
I got me a grin bigger than a crescent moon,
I got me a guitar strumming out a simple tune.
Fire in the pit and dog at my side,
Nothing these sons of bitches ain't tried.
Hangin' with the pack and we're howling at the moon!
I got me a quarter I found in a shoe,
Bankin' on the eight, a little English on the cue.
"Tell ya what I'd do" if ya wanna try your luck,
Old school rules, wrack a game and break a buck,
Hangin' with the pack and we're howling at the moon!
(Chorus)
Woooooo woooo hoooo!
Woooooo woooo hoooo!
You've never seen Cool Hand Luke?!
Woooooo woooo hoooo!
One hell of a night, mornin' not so good,
Woulda slept right through afternoon if I could.
Head cracked open, too sick to get ready,
But I stopped throwin' up in time for Tom Petty!
Hangin' with the pack and we're howling at the moon!
Rollin' down the river; "it's a pirate's life for me!"
Nowhere on God's green earth I'd rather be!
Sippin' my potion from a plastic cup,
Feelin' alive and fired up,
Hangin' with the pack and we're howlin' at the moon!
(Chorus)

The Abrasive Side of the Sponge

So, I was watching Sponge Bob with Celie the other day and I laughed so hard and mused a bit.  It's a funny show, and sometimes I doubt my 3 year old is learning much from it, but I am, so it seems harmless enough?  Sponge Bob is THE man in this house.  He is the only show that can actually keep the kid hooked for more than 15 minutes at a clip.  I've never seen anything like it!  Are you kidding me?  Of course I shall embrace the Bob Pants!!  This is something we can both 'learn' from.

So, basically on this episode, Gary, thinking Sponge Bob too passive or what have you, orders him an accessory of sorts for sponges.  It's one of those rough and tough green abrasive sides!!  Sponge Bob puts it on and he loves it, marching down the street declaring "I have an abrasive side!! I have an abrasive side!!"  I couldn't help but laugh.  Some of us are just that proud of it, aren't we?

As Sponge Bob continues on his way, he soon finds that he can't control his other side, which is basically a green face on his back that randomly flips around and throws insulting remarks at his friends. He even tells off his grandma at a cross walk and refuses to help her across the road. For awhile he's sort of blissfully unaware this is happening, but then he begins to realize all of his friends are mad at him and he is filled with regret when he thinks of how he treated his grandma. The Awakening!

Abrasive is an adjective that according to Webster's means 'tending to abrade' or 'causing irritation'. Irritating. This basically means that Sponge Bob's other side was irritating to everyone around him. The things he would come out and say in almost a bipolar manner could be hilarious. Some things were just brutally honest. Other things were just down right mean. There are two sides to every sponge. I know people like this. People that seem to announce it as they parade through life. Others, like myself, don't really realize how the other side seems because our yellow side is so snarky, sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. I digress.

Ultimately, Sandy Squirrel ended up ripping the abrasive face right off of Sponge Bob's back. What a pal! That's what friends are for. We could all use to be a little more abrasive on some tough messes, and that's what abrasive sides are essentially made for, those ancient, caked on messes that give the most resistance. But for those softer, milder jobs, the other side of the sponge is more than sufficient. The abrasive side, which is used for tougher stains, is overkill for those gentle jobs. If it could only be controlled, maybe we could get the job done without scratching the china? No matter, squirrelly friends will always be willing to help you find your true face on the other side of the sponge.

Ode to Friendship

Kith and kin, I've got you covered,
Always by your side.
Never one without the other,
Like God, I will abide.

Stretch the limit of our love,
Your tugs will never break it.
My hand, for you, remains ungloved,
To grab, or hold, or shake it.

Memories older than the dirt,
Are housed inside our heads.
Good or bad, sometimes they hurt,
And fill our hearts with dread.

Take comfort in my loving vibes,
And charge yourself on me.
Whenever ready, you decide;
Generator to battery.

Ode to My Steward

She mans the wheel of my heart,
And drives me to my destinations.
Playing a very vital part,
And sharing in stellar conversations.

Her mind expands in volume,
Wrapping around her abstract thought.
When winds of change start to blow,
She learns all that she has forgot.

Through the forest trail she takes me,
Filling up my starving soul.
Kinship fueled by purpose,
United, we shall reach our goal.

Following the Gypsy Highway: Stevie Nicks at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theatre

STEVIE NICKS

Friday, June 29, 2012

Nikon at Jones Beach Theater

Wantagh, NY

THE TRUTH

I have been a Stevie Nicks fan since my early adolescence; I can’t exactly remember when I fell for her, but it was many moons ago, when her warm spiced drink of a voice first vibrated the bones and cartilage of my ears into submission.  I really got into Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks in my early teen years.  I was at a peak in my Fleetwood Mac craze in 1997 when their live album The Dance was released.  If that CD were a record, I would have worn through the vinyl; I listened to it so many times.  I greatly love Fleetwood Mac, but was also drawn into Stevie’s solo career, having always found a sort of solace in her voice and poetic imagery as well as her enigmatic and witchy iconography.  I remember listening to her Timespace album over and over in my room during high school, it was the first way I introduced myself to the majority of her work.  Luckily around that time her music was featured in Practical Magic and she was having a bit of a comeback of sorts.  I found Bella Donna, and so on and so forth until she was tied to my heart in a tight hormonal knot.  So for all of these reasons Stevie (Fleetwood Mac) was on my Bucket List.  I had to see her before I died!  Or she died!  I had to see her!  So in early 2012 when I heard that she was touring, I freaked.  I saw that she was touring with Rod Stewart for the Heart and Soul Tour, but I wanted to see Stevie alone.  I didn’t want to share her with anyone.  If she was sharing her stage time with anybody, I wanted it to be with Fleetwood Mac!  So I panicked, looking at the tour dates, and I found a couple of shows before she joined him where she was alone.  None all too close; I think I found three that were doable.  The beginning of the tour started in New York.  The Nikon at Jones Beach.  I could do that!  I franticly purchased tickets for my best friend, Hilary, and I for an epic drive and concert.  I realized it was 6 hours away...and right on the beach...and in LONG ISLAND!  At least, I THINK I realized these things at the time?  I purchased the tickets months beforehand and sat on the idea of having to drive that far and through the traffic I would have to in order to see Stevie.  I tried my best to remain Zen.    “Oh, I’m doing it.”  Finally, the day came.  It would be a journey of decently sized proportions to finally witness the live performance and essence of the woman whose music has been an emotional salve for me throughout much of my life.  In June of this year I traveled to see Stevie Nicks at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theater with my best good friend and it was “Bucket List Epic” in SO many ways! 

THE DRIVE

The drive to Long Island was basically insane and great, in a road-schooled, fight-or-flight, nervous-cool kind of way.  I had never driven through traffic like that in my life; I had never been on a 6 lane expressway as the driver in a vehicle before.  This entire trip was very symbolic of my growth and personal ability.  We were just a pair of best girls on an epic adventure, like Thelma and Louise, only hopefully not even remotely like Thelma and Louise, other than the car ride, and an added concert.  Maybe more like Gypsy 84?  Yeah, probably NOTHING like Gypsy 84, other than we were heading to see Stevie Nicks.  (Crazy movie; watch it if you haven’t.)  Best good pals...on a road trip to the big city beach venue to see a female rock and roll icon and put our feet in the water.  Instead of driving off of a cliff we were going to stand head to head with the ocean and look Stevie Nicks straight in the eyes.  Well, at least into her large sized eyes on the teleprompter.  This wasn’t just a concert; this was a journey of a lifetime.  No big deal. 

There really is no telling what can happen on a road trip adventure, so I kissed my child goodbye that morning and hoped to face this travel demon bravely and wisely.  I had a copy of printed directions and a Tom Tom, as well as a copilot; this would be fine!  It was only Hilary and I on this trip, the fate of the evening rested in our hands.  We were 6 hours away from the Nikon.  Would we see Stevie Nicks that night, or would our car plummet off of the George Washington Bridge?  There was no doubt in my mind that we would roll onto the beach, stand in the surf, and then view a momentous performance by Ms. Stevie Nicks as the sun sank into the sand.  Let’s went! 

Behind the wheel, I was on fire.  When faced with wild traffic and the expressways, I immediately went into the survival mode needed in order to traverse the roads with the city folk.  I had ridden into New York City and large cities before, although I had never driven into such an area myself until this point.  I wasn’t going INTO the city, but I was driving through the Bronx and heading at NYC and through it, on to the historical Long Island shore.  I made myself proud, real proud.  There were moments during this trip where I looked out at what I was driving through or past and I was taken back by the fact that I was commanding the vehicle.  “I’ll ride anywhere with you,” Hilary said upon our return.  We had survived tolls, city merges, The Bronx Expressway, a loop dee loop designed on acid.  I gained a lot of driving knowledge and experience on this trip.  It has prepared me for great things.  We arrived at Jones Beach on schedule.  We pulled into the Nikon elated with “GOAL” practically beaming out of my pupils and asked about gas, forgetting there were no service stations in the park.  We drove back into Long Island and got some gas for our home trip and bought lunch at an authentic Long Island deli before heading into Jones Beach for the evening of evenings.  I even made myself proud there, and we even talked to an authentic Long Islander that gave us directions to an excellent deli to eat at.  A sandwich and a drink and it’s back to the beach.

THE BEACH

The beach was centering; it was the calm before the storm, or afterwards, or the eye?  I’m not sure, it was something.  It seemingly took us forever to trudge through the sand, our shoes in hand, my camera dangling from my neck snapping pictures along the way.  It was a real in-the-moment moment.  The drive was the first leg of our journey, the first “battle”, our second was the ocean.  We were on a mission.  We had to get to that water.  It was the symbolic end of the drive.  GOAL!  Hilary had never touched the ocean before; she had seen it and been in the sand, although she had never submerged her feet into its lapping surf.  Its vastness is somewhat unnerving to her.  Understandably so, it’s as deep as the void, the metaphor is strong, but that’s another story and battle all together.  The prize was to sink our feet into that sand and let the tide pull away, burying our feet slowly; one of the best sensations in life.  I remember doing this as a child during our trips to the beach.  How could I describe to her how momentous this feeling was?  She simply had to experience it for herself.

Jones Beach was really neat.  You could see the Nikon across the Ocean Parkway in the distance while standing on the beach.  The sand felt amazing and we stood for what seemed like hours watching people swim and play, watching the waves come in and roll out, listening to the birds in the moment.  A part of the goal was accomplished.  We had made it there, at least!  We stood recharging ourselves in the wind of the waves for awhile.  Let’s roll on. 

THE NIKON

The Nikon is an impressive venue, a circus of sorts behind the gates.  There were booths and venders everywhere.  We purchased Zippo lighters from the Zippo booth; ironic, we travel all the way to New York and we buy Pennsylvania made Zippo lighters as souvenirs.  I also later got a Stevie Nicks t-shirt and magnet as swag.  The Nikon is an amphitheatre alongside the bay, open to the heavens.  The nosebleed section surely would have a bird’s eye view of the ocean, in this way I wondered if they could charge more for worse seats?  Ha!  We got yummy fruity drinks and then got settled in our seats and awaited Stevie.  We missed the opening act completely, but the timing was ultimately perfect, so who cares.  We were there for Stevie Nicks.   

THE STEVIE

Stevie is some kind of a musical goddess.  Ms. Nicks is truly everything she seems to be.  Not that I am biased but seriously if any one of you talks bad about Ms. Nicks I will backhand you with a vinyl copy of Bella Donna and choke you with a flowing scarf.  She was so very intimate with the audience and so emotional during her performance.  She had nice personal chats in between songs, talking to us like we were old friends.  She even started crying at the end during her “goodbye”.  She was conveying how important this night was to her, being the first night on her newly starting stretch of tour after weeks of battling voice problems.  The unconditional love and acceptance from her fans touched her in a way that we were able to experience first hand that night.  She honestly loves us.  

THE SETLIST

I was prepared for the setlist somewhat because I had familiarized myself with her 2011 setlist.  This was still the same tour, basically, promoting In Your Dreams, so I was so glad that I had done so because I was basically aware of every song that she would play for us that night, aside from their order and a few surprise covers.  I think she opened with Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll, followed by Enchanted, I believe.  We heard everything from Dreams, Gold Dust Woman, Landslide, Leather and Lace, Stand Back, Edge of Seventeen.  From her In Your Dreams album she played For What It’s Worth, which brought me to tears.  I had been waiting to hear that song and in a weird way, that's what this trip was all about, and I had a moment during its play under the moon light at the Nikon, 6+ hours from home...just me and my best good pal.  She also played from In Your Dreams: Soldier’s Angel, Secret Love, and Annabel Lee.  So many new songs, so many classics; so many songs that were so incredibly moving to experience live were performed beneath a gorgeous moon in a gentle wind.  This concert was the most emotional one I have ever been to in my life.  It was a triumphant, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar kind of feeling!  I cried and my heart pumped and I smiled and bounced.  Gold Dust Woman literally made my nipples hard.  Stevie Nicks totally gave me hard nips! Bless her darling heart!

THE ATMOSPHERE

It was a clear evening with crisp air and was slightly windy along the waterside.  The night air from the bay kept blowing up across the crowd, blowing up across Stevie Nicks.  Her hair and scarves and black flowing dress danced in its gusts like magic.  No hat for her on this night, for she surely would have lost it.  The wind blew her golden hair into her face continuously throughout the show, a shimmering air-made pyrotechnics show, making her all the more glorious and captivating.  The moon was ghostly and blanketed under a shroud of clouds.  We floated back to the car on a high that could never be relived, refelt, or recreated. 

THE VOICE

Her voice was like literal butter, melting down my ear canals and over my ear drum and inner bits like they were freshly popped corn kernels.  I couldn’t believe that I was hearing her voice in real time and not on a recording or on television.  I reflected on that fact and immediately my eyes welled up.  I had been listening to Stevie Nicks for so long.  It was a real life goal seeing her perform live, and she lived up to everything I made her out to be. It was amazing that she was having such problems with her voice because other than a few places, you couldn’t even detect flaw.  You wouldn’t even be able to tell she had no voice a few weeks prior.  She was obviously a little worried about it but carried on and she was marvelous.  I commend her for being so open and frank about her plight with the crowd and her love for everyone just seems so genuine and heartfelt.  She sounds just like herself, she sounds just like Stevie Nicks.  This, unfortunately, can not be said about everyone that you see live.  

THE DRESS

She dressed like a night gypsy, in her traditional flowing black shawls and scarves, with corsets and boots.  Toward the end of the performance she changed into a beautiful white ensemble.  During her performance of Stand Back she did the traditional spin, somehow managing not to fall in her huge platform boots.  She later said that the shawl was the original “Stand Back Shawl” from the video, I believe she meant.  I had been listening to this song hardcore for a week or more at the time and had hoped I would be able to hear it.  Later on the drive home it would be playing as I was speeding along the Bronx Expressway flowing with the night traffic. I was empowered in that moment.  Smiling to myself, I knew we would get home fine.  There were no worries in that moment.  I was driving home on the high of a major goal accomplished with my artistic vein pumping.  I was high on experience.

THE CONVERSATION

She carried on a conversation with the crowd like we were old friends, talking of things from years ago or preparing for this tour.  She was very emotional because of the height of the night; this was the first night of her new tour and her voice had given out a few weeks earlier.  She discussed her obstacles and her accomplishments, all in a tone that let you believe you could really be her pal.  She seemed like such an honestly cool woman, and she even commented on how she is remarkably like how she used to be before she became famous.  Her guitarist knew her back in the day before these days, and he plays with her now.  She said he can verify it.  Imagine, being friends with someone and then touring with them after they are a famous music icon. 

THE BAND

Her backup singers are made up of her sister-in-law and other women she has known for years.  Her guitarist she has known since before she was famous.  They all have a really good stage relationship.  The guitar is really great and the drummer was very enthusiastic.  They did an excellent job recreating her songs, especially considering the Fleetwood Mac ones were done without Lindsay Buckingham and her solo stuff was heavy on the synthesizer.  Stand Back was a good version and very fun, it sounded good, though obviously not like the original.  She spoke of how Prince came into the studio while they were recording it on her AXS Concert and laid down the synthesizer track and then disappeared.  Now two keyboardists can’t recreate what Prince did on that record.  But it was still a great attempt at recreation of the classics, and a wonderful show of the new stuff. 

THE GRACE

She was incredibly gracious with the audience, exiting the stage after the encore and the bow, but then coming back out to shake hands and greet all of the audience members in the front rows which is something that I had never seen before in a performance.  She was touching children and taking flowers.  There was a man by her side with his arm around her waste, lest she be swept away by a fan or the wind or fragility.  (Perhaps insurance against those boots?)  She was wonderful.  She was a lady and a true entertainer. 

THE LESSON

The drive home was rough, being that I left New York around 11PM and didn't get into native terrain until heading on 5:30.  After my copilot fell asleep I blasted Old Crow Medicine Show and sang to myself to keep myself awake.  There were some blurry eyed moments on the interstate but we rolled into town just as the sun was coming up.  I dropped off Hilary and went the long way home, stopping at the crossroads view to watch the freshly risen sun over the rolling hills of home.  I gathered myself and let what just transpired settle a little, and then headed on down the grove to put myself to sleep, a new woman.  This ride and concert brought out my inner feminine strength and was just what I needed at that moment in 2012!  "See, we don't need the guys.  We can go ANYWHERE!" Hilary stated.  True that!  It gave me an energetic burst that got me through more days of that year, and released a lot of emotion while giving some areas in my life a crystalline piece of closure.  It was kismet.  

Seoul Sisters

I'm on my way back from New York City.  It was an awesome day outing, but not exactly for the happiest of reasons.  My sister has been living in Korea for the past year and a half teaching and came home for an almost month long visit over her summer break.  It was a great visit, the time went so incredibly fast.  It's sad that it is over, but at least we had an enjoyable road trip to the big apple. My friend and I drove her out to JFK International for her 2PM flight.  She is in the air as I write this now.  As per her wishes, we chose to have a little city fun before returning home. 

I spotted fedoras for sale on the street as we were driving up 5th Avenue, so we parked the Caliber on 39th Street and hoofed it.  Coincidentally we went past the NYC Public Library!  I've explored the cement jungle several times before, but I had NEVER visited the library.  I was super excited to climb the steps and pass through the threshold!  And what a threshold it was; I stepped through the largest, most ornate door I ever had in my life.  The beautiful textured details and giant gold lion head knocker were just foreplay.  It was like a giant marble orgasm inside!  They had a shop and we bought some books and trinkets. I got Where the Wild Things Are and Oh, The Places You'll Go for Celie; two classics that she doesn't yet have and it will be neat to know they came from the NYC Library. 

It was an excellent day.  We had a nice trip out with my sister, and after dropping her off we were able to make a day of it instead of just a delivery.  I'm sure she'd love that we visited the library.  I took this picture on one of the huge globes they had in the Mapping room where we stuck a pin in central Pennsylvania on a map of visitors.  Pennsylvania girls in the big apple jungle!  Seoul, Korea is like New York City...only bigger...and foreign...and on the other side of that globe.  My sister walks the streets of that concrete jungle on her own, with ovaries [balls] of solid rock.  She will  return to her foreign job and her foreign apartment and reunite with her foreign coworkers and foreign friends.  I remain native...and I won't be reunited with her for another year.  I wish her well.

13 Fedoras, My Painted Face, and Endless Assumptions

The 13th Fedora!

It has been about a year since I purchased my black and white checkerboard fedora for myself.  I have dug hats in general much of my life, my dad seemed to always be sporting some fun head wear with or without a feather in it when I was younger.  Actually, hats did always seem to be on his head, but one of the main reasons for this was that he had no hair on the top of it.  Combine this with all of the outside work he did and he never would have stayed warm in the winter without his staple hunter orange beanie cap.  I learned the importance of head gear for warmth through him and over 8 years ago started to wear winter hats to save my body heat.  It worked magically, perhaps because my hair isn't so thick itself.  I felt so cold whenever I was without my hat.  It's funny how used to something you can grow.  When I adopted the fedora, or rather, when it adopted me, my constant wear produced the same separation anxiety when I was without.  I feel naked without one now.  I have half of my collection stacked in the living room and it is the last thing I put on when I am getting ready to go, and the first thing I take off when I return.  I have quite a few now; last year I got one for different events or occasions and happened upon some at other times that simply couldn't be rejected.  I often waited until they were on clearance and for awhile only paid $3 on average for most of them.  Today, I think the average is up to $7.  A few of them I received as gifts.  My parents got me one for Christmas, and my sister brought me one back from Korea that I can't wait to rock out this summer!  In all I have collected about a dozen fedoras in the last year. That's roughly one a month; not too shabby!  Recently, my friend Christal gave me my thirteenth fedora for a just because gift just because she is awesome like that.  It was my first official animal print fedora, which I find quite fitting.  And it was lucky number thirteen as well!

It is actually a rather breathable warm-weather fedora made of a mesh paper blend; not quite as warm as my black felt that I was already wearing the night Christal presented me with it, but I put it on when I picked her up for our mild Sunday night out.  Snazzy zebra stripes! She said I looked like Bret Michaels, but at least it wasn't a turban. I obviously don't mind looking ridiculous, as per my own definition of the word, that is.  Sometimes in public I forget that I am wearing a fedora because I generally do and am puzzled when people stare more than usual.  The same happens with my lip stick.  I forget my lips are bright red so you'd swear I was dressed for Halloween or something? It's just a hat; it's just lip stick!  I'm not the only woman to wear a fedora, they sell them at Walmart for fuck sake!

I don't necessarily enjoy the attention but I like being different because I like being myself.  There is a difference.  I was applying my trusted long lasting lip stick for a night out a few weeks ago and a male friend said all girls who wear make up as such do it for attention.  I FEEL I NEED TO MAKE A POINT!  Perhaps, I told him, I enjoy the angles of my face, I find them aesthetically pleasing, even.  Perhaps I even enjoy the contrast of the bright color against my pale flesh.  Painting a face is much like painting a portrait, only 3D and in makeup.  It's a very personal ritual, face painting.  Just because I wear a fedora and red lip stick doesn't mean I want the attention of every Tom Dickin' Creeper at the bar.  My make up is self love, it's me enjoying my femininity.  I'm sorry, but ironically, that has absolutely nothing to do with men!  My fedora is a form of self expression.  So, I'm just another poor girl 'asking for it' if I brighten my lips or wear a shiny hat?  Because I could only possibly be doing it for some outward form of attention?  Well, some women do, I give you that.  They build themselves up by the amount of attention they get from others.  That is how they feel loved.  This doesn't hold true for every woman.  The fact is, you have no idea what a woman is "asking for" unless you ask her.   In most cases, she probably isn't asking for anything!! Maybe that's your problem, men.  You assume too much.  Far far too much.

Regardless, the fedora does get some attention, not me.  It's like a tail, it has a personality of its own.  It has a fan base, some good, some bad.  I had one man tell me once that his friend told him that you have to "embrace the fedora".  That has stuck with me and remains one of my favorite found quotes.  Some man approached me and asked to buy my new fedora that night.  He apparently was a Bret Michaels fan.  A different night another man took it off of my head and proceeded to louse it up for me.  How dare you!  Another time, some drunk offered me a dollar to trade my shiny faux denim fedora for his ratty ass ball cap?  The nerve, the gall and the assumption!  I haven't lost one yet, and I'm proud of that.  Lay off the hat, you crazy Bret Michaels fans.  I'm expressing myself, over here!

Would you believe I have already moved on to number 14?  

Fedorin',

Missie Sue

The Control Spectrum: Nature's Dramamine

WHILE on the way home just now from Philly after Christal thanked me for letting her drive my car down I had a muse about car sickness.
Christal is an in control chick.  I'm not saying she has control issues, I'm just saying she is her most comfortable when in control of things.  I like that about her.  She also gets very car sick.  She thanked me because had she had to ride shot gun as I am or in the back of the car she would have become horribly ill.  She is okay or at best in a vehicle when driving and is doing an excellent job, I might add.  I thought about my sister and how she gets ill in cars as well.  I mused about myself.  I am not so bad, but I do tend to feel nauseous and unwell at times unless I am either A. Driving or B. Riding shot gun.  The back seat makes me sick.  I wondered if it could be a control issue.

I thought about the different powerful metaphors in the symbol of the vehicle.  Seeing it as a means of viewing reality, and a spectrum of control, I mused it was like this. 
While driving we are in control and at our best.  Christal is uneasy unless in the driver's seat.  She needs to create her circumstances and retain control of her vehicle to remain at ease.  I am the most at ease with controlling the vehicle, or with at least a driver's side view of the matter.  I can see what's coming at least and brace myself.  I am still at ease with this position on the spectrum.  The back seat, however, makes me uneasy.  I have been known to get head aches and feel nauseous and just basically out of sorts.  I'm not as okay with having vehicular blinders on, with not knowing what is coming at me or what I am heading towards.  I prefer to be aware, as opposed to back seat driving, following the chauffeur's intent, putting my full trust into their decisions and steering.  The chauffeur.  Who the hell is driving  this car anyway?

The more control we have over our situation the more at ease we feel.  But is the point to accept the lack of control?  If it is, then I fail.  Letting go, of anything, is one of the hardest tasks in the world.  We want to know, that we are either heading in the direction that we want, have hold of the reins, or at least are aware of where we are going.  It makes us physically ill to give up control and sit in the back seat, only aware of certain turns or attractions and able to see less of the road ahead.

But isn't that the point I'm always trying to make?  That we are to learn to accept chaos in all of its forms, to go with the flow of the river, limp through the air like a drunk thrown from their vehicle.  If you are slack and limp when you hit the ground you have a better chance of a soft landing.  We are not in control, but in a mutual free fall of sorts with our vehicle.  We are back seat driving off the cliff as I say. We need to let go and flow with the chaos.  This trip has taught me much. Sometimes you miss your exit and you have to move mountains to find your way home.  'If you never get lost, how will you ever find yourself?'

You're either the driver, the passenger or the back seat driver in life.  Perhaps there is a time to be each.  What seat do you prefer for the journey?  Are you okay with being lost?

Philadelphia Freedom!!

I am sitting here waiting for my snack, crackle, pop at the chiropractor with the family.  Celie is playing with toys at my feet actually being an angel tonight.  I'M SO GLAD.  I have to pack and prepare when we get back home for my LADIES TRIP to the 15th Annual Philadelphia Tattoo Arts Convention at the Pennsylvania Convention Center!!  An overnight adventure outing with grown ups!  Well, mostly. He he.  Just four girls hitting the road for an epic adventure and experience!

I haven't been out by myself for a very long time, and I can't remember if I have left Celie for this long with Joey before? Possibly once.  This is going to be the ultimate girls' night out, girls' day out, girls' trip out, party out, drink out, black out?! Let's hope not.  ....mostly.

I am traveling in the company of the fabulous Ms. Black List Tattoo herself and her entourage. We are the entourage!  Woo!  She will be having her unique new head tattoo judged in one of the categories at the convention.  It's a big deal!!!  We are pretty psyched.  We got a room only a few blocks away.  It should be a good time.

Back home now and I have everything pretty much packed and ready.  Throwing a load of my pants in the dryer for morning then heading to bed.  Big day tomorrow!  I am anxious for some kid free social time!!  We leave at 7:45.  Let's do this!! 

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 6

Lastnight I had a dream that I took the crystals down to look at them and they were white melted puddle-looking mounds on the plate.  I was obviously disappointed. I have no idea what this could represent, other than disappointment?  They almost appeared to be a white mold type of deal, as if they had started to rot and had "gone bad" in a way.  Spoiled.  That's what they were.  Molded over with a fuzzy coat.  I remember wondering why they would have gone bad, like so much rotten food.  Maybe they represent my creative aspirations?  Maybe in a way, I feel my creative side, the part of me that creates projects just like this crystal growing blogumentary, has gone sour or like so much of my molded food, has laid unconsumed so long it has been taken over by fungus.  Fungus...mold...it's what grows on things and eats them away when we don't.  Time.  Dormant fruit and time grow mold.  Mold is a growth, but a stagnant growth.  A growth in the wrong direction.  Either this project, I feel, is wrong or something about it.  Or...it's right, and my fear of my creative side rotting away is what it should teach me?

Upon inspecting the crystals today, I am fairly certain that I did something wrong.  The stones look dead, lackluster, and spent for some reason.  Maybe they've exerted themselves as much as possible.  I think their growth period is over.  They are FAR from the crystals in the picture on the kit.  I either took too much liquid out, didn't dissolve the powder enough, or just got a dud kit.  It is possible it takes longer than a week to grow?  You would think maybe they'd grow on.  I have no idea, I don't know crystals.  Mine actually look more like warts than crystals!  Glorified WARTS. Wart gem stones, I could maybe make wart wear?  Classy growths.

I don't know crystals.  I do know that I enjoyed having an experiment, I liked how easily I was able to share my phone pictures with my blog and create a post.  I liked doing a blogumentary style set of posts.  I liked getting back into the swing of my blogging after the crazy end of 2012 and the beginning of the new year. I was able to start the year off with something a little easier and more playful. 

All in all, with this experiment I have determined that I am not a scientist.  Not only that, but I apparently can't even grow a set of crystals from a kit from the dollar store.  But, I have also found that I can document it not working, express the physical change from rock to crystal or lack thereof. THAT is the power of playful creation.  I can track my progress, reflect, change, and continue.  I have the desire to make crystals out of rocks, and that's enough.  THAT...is a metaphor.

From Rocks to Crystals,
Missie Sue

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 5

10:45AM
As you can see there is a bit more crystal formation taking place. They are bigger today than last night. The crystals seem to be changing, even the pile of powder stuff under the stones seems to be changing. It appears to have less liquid and more solids. The protruding part of the pebble on the right is maybe close to 1/4 inch or more now.  It's a long road ahead, I feel.  I'm also, I think, regretting scooping out the two spoonfuls of liquid that I did.

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 4

8:00PM
There is some growth happening, I think. "Watch them grow right before our eyes!" My friend said jokingly as I placed the rocks in the tray at the beginning of the experiment. It has taken quite awhile, but it is actually obvious at this point that the crystals are growing and I really need to get a life.

I haven't measured them yet, but they seem to be protruding higher than before and close up they appear more "crystaly" and are starting some color changes. 

I'm starting to wonder how many days it would take for the rocks to look like the picture? I'm also curious as to why all this is happening; what are these crystals made out of? Some research would be useful at this point. I'll see what I can find. Until next time, they grow on!!

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 3

8:45AM
There has been some slight change over night, although nothing drastic. I'm assuming these things need many many hours instead of just a few like the instructions suggest. Perhaps I am just daft.

19 hours into it and there is a definable mound of growth on the stone on the right and the stone on the left isn't far behind. I need to find a small tool to measure the height with? The box claimed I think 1-3 cm, but I am not sure offhand what that would be in 'merican.

We'll see how the day goes.  Does light have any affect on them, I wonder? It's definitely green crystals we're looking at.

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 2

5:45 PM
It appears there is some slight change in the specimen however, so little that I am doubting my abilities to mix water and crystal powder, and measure things. I scooped off two spoonfuls of fluid from the tray because I thought perhaps I had the stones buried too deep because it appeared greatly over 3/4 of the tray. The sprinkled tops have maybe grown slightly, or maybe simply changed in appearance. I texted Christal about her rocks. She reports "minor" changes. I would classify mine as sub minor. 4+ hours in! We'll see what time does.

Crystal Growing: Blogumentary Pt. 1

Today is the day! Let's grow some crystals. I opened my growing kit earlier and acquainted myself with the directions. They suggested that I get an adult to help me with the hot water. Unfortunately, I was the only one around, so I helped myself.
Basically, you measure water in the dish, filling it up 3/4 of the way. The instructions say to pour that water into a container, remembering the level. You then get an adult to help you heat up water and fill the container to the same level. This seemed a little odd to me. I wondered why I wasn't simply instructed to heat the water I poured. Maybe that is just the way that adults do it? Anyway...
I filled a shot glass, heated the water, poured it into a glass bowl, and preceded to stir in 3/4 of the packet of crystals until all the crystal powder dissolved, or in reality, until most of it had. I poured the green liquid into the tray that came with the kit.  I then put the two pebbles into the liquid, and sprinkled them with the remainder of the powder. I have placed the container on a paper plate on the stove. It was approximately 1:30 PM when I was finished. Let's see if these things will look like the picture at all.

Christal's Growing Crystals

First off, let me say that Family Dollar is awesome. My tattoo artist friend Christal and I went to town tonight for some errands. We ended up spending the majority of our time and money there. We got some really good stuff though, good finds! Along with some killer pink zebra striped sheer curtains for her shop and some other random treasures she purchased two packs of Growing Crystals from the kids section.  The old school kits you may have seen, they've been making them awhile, I believe.  You just don't come across them that often, I reckon.  They cost like a buck fifty, they must be made for around ten cents in the worst factory and working conditions or something.  What ARE you, Growing Crystals?  Crystal Growing?!!  Explain yourself! 

IN RETROSPECT I don't know why I didn't snag one for myself, as they were only a dollar, I think. I was perhaps too excited about the buy one get one half off mirror and framed art sale, where I snagged some shadow box music art that should look slick in my living room eaves!  (Seriously, Family Dollar is awesome!  We are true Dimestore Diamonds! ...even if one of us needs to be talked down from buying a turban once in awhile.)  Anyway, after getting back to her house and excitedly opening one box and reading the directions she says about using one of her own rocks even with the kit. I wonder what they are made out of. I wonder how long it will take. Will it emit a noxious gas? Are they the color on the box? It says that you will start to see crystals within hours supposedly. Christal agreed to give me her box of green Growing Crystals ONLY IF I would blog about it, and "right away" at that, meaning tonight after the kid and husband were in bed...like now. The only thing is, I need to sleep. I don't have time to wait for growing crystals, so tomorrow morning I will begin the bloggity blogxperiment.

The Growing Crystals kit includes a tray, a pack of chemicals to be mixed with warm water, a stick to stir it, and two typical pebble-like stones. It is made in China, distributed by a company called Creative Kids Far East Ltd. Apparently they are located in Hong Kong. This pack was manufactured in a factory in Taicang, Jiangsu, China in August of 2012.  Instructions included! I'm excited and curious for the blogumentary experiment. I embrace the assignment! Thank you, Christal.  Tomorrow we will "create beautiful crystals and watch them GROW!!" ...and blog about it.  Let's do this!

A Room to Wait; No Time to Waste

I am sitting in the waiting room at the chiropractor. Our annual "Turkey Party" is tomorrow. I can't believe Christmas has come and gone and New Year's is quickly approaching. There are so many things that I wanted to accomplish this year that never happened, ideas and projects that have just died on the floor in a puddle of blood, failure to thrive, oozing from their thought bubble umbilical cords. I guess they were premature.  I am in the worst mood that I have been in for awhile right now. I feel like I am getting my monthly hormonal drop but have just finished my period. I feel the stress of tomorrow and all the things left to do and all the things I will never be able to do. Things have just been nonstop with the holiday, and then still working on a partial remodel of our bedroom and hallway because of our discovered mold problem, and having two print jobs due for Christmas, not to mention the one I was unable to fill by Christmas. Oh, and I just learned my therapist is not covered by our insurance at all, so we will have to pay out of pocket if I want to start therapy. Intake interview bill to come.   :/ I'm just a little stressed and disappointed with my effort this year and feeling like overwhelmed shit as of late. I wish I had the time or energy to blog about what has been happening. I have at least 5 posts for events in 2012 that I need to finish up. Sigh. The good news is my sister is home from Korea so she will be able to come to Turkey Party but the sad part is she has decided to work in Korea another year, so she is going back in about 3 weeks! So every minute we have together counts. I'm hoping for a smooth party with many memories and moments. (I can hope can't I?!) Turkey is almost 21 pounds. Tomorrow we will roast and toast!! Happy Holidays, everyone!

Old Crow Medicine Show @ The Electric Factory x 2

OLD CROW MEDICINE SHOW

The Milk Carton Kids

The Lumineers

@ The Electric Factory

Philadelphia, PA

August 4, 2012

It is a wonderful thing being able to see one of your favorite bands live.  It is even better being able to see that band more than once, especially in a fairly intimate venue.  I discovered Old Crow Medicine Show in early 2006.  I fell in love with them straight away!  I was in a musical funk, disgusted with the popular music on the radio at the time.  I detested most things that were offered to us via the main stream.  Ironically, I found OCMS’s old timey sound refreshing, even though it sounded like it had been around for decades.  I immediately made the crudest “mix CD’ I could for my best friends and passed the music along to them, because, let’s face it, it was awesome!  The music, the voices, the stories---it was all good.  We consumed their music like fuel and obtained all that we were able to from whatever sources we could find.  I was in the beginnings of dabbling with guitar play at the time and Wagon Wheel was one of the first songs I played.  Their music will always take me back to that time of my life. 

On the streets of Philadelphia, on route to The Electric Factory.

I was lucky enough to make the trip to see OCMS at The Electric Factory in Philadelphia in 2009 for The Big Surprise Tour.  It was amazing and one of the best performances I had been to at the time.  I got to see Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings in the Dave Rawlings Machine, which was very epic.  Old Crow and the gang put on a hell of a show!  After busting out into a very exciting rendition of Billie Jean in honor of Michael Jackson’s recent death, the night ended with everyone on stage together performing The Weight.  It was marvelous.  I was also lucky enough to see them again this year in August at the same venue.  It was interesting to compare the different line ups.  The first time I saw OCMS Willie Watson was with them, and his shrill, melodic voice was my favorite.  This second time I saw them they had Critter Fuqua, a founding member, with them again, but had also dropped Willie Watson.  It was a wonderful show, but I missed the sound of Willlie.  Overall, however, it was a great performance and it was interesting to compare the sounds and show of then and now while also being able to check out two great opening acts! 

On August 4^th there were two opening acts at The Electric Factory, The Milk Carton Kids, followed by The Lumineers.  We weren’t sure what the opening acts would even be when we ordered our tickets, so seeing these bands was just icing on the OCMS cake!

The Milk Carton Kids, an indie folk duo hailing from Los Angeles, California, I found very pleasing.  They were dressed in suits, reminiscent almost of the early Beatles or Buddy Holly, but their sound was more reminiscent of Simon and Garfunkel.  They came across as somewhat timid in their gentlemanly attire, although the lead guitarist was pretty bad ass!  These guys only formed in 2011, but have recorded two albums, Prologue and Retrospect.  I loved their sound. 

The Lumineers were excellent!  They have gained mainstream popularity lately after releasing their self-titled debut album in April of this year and it was a great surprise getting to see them perform.  They had great energy and were a crowd favorite.  Many of the people we talked to that night were there to see The Lumineers.  One fan in particular informed me that they had just recorded their first album, after playing together for ten years.  This person also informed me how members Jeremiah Fraites and Wesley Schultz bonded through music after the loss of Jeremiah’s brother, Joshua, in 2001.  I was also told how they played the NYC scene together with little luck, until moving it out to Denver, Colorado and meeting up with their cellist Neyla Pekarek.  Their fans were very into them and obviously knew their shit.  I think a good amount of the people were actually there to see The Lumineers.  Jeremiah was very interactive as the drummer and brought a bass drum up front to use by a microphone as he sang back up.  I had never witnessed upfront percussion that was so energetic before.  Wesley and Jeremiah were very enthusiastic and and Neyla was very impressive on the cello.  Their music is fun and on this night they even did a version of Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues!  They were a great show.

Old Crow Medicine Show is a great live band.  If you have never seen them, I highly suggest trying to catch a show!  They have an energy that is hard to capture in words.  Having seen them both times it was interesting to see how things change and how much things stay the same.  At the time of this concert I hadn’t heard their newest album, Carry Me Back, which had just came out in July of this year, so I didn’t know exactly what I was getting into, other than knowing what I got into last time.  The first show was great, but I hoped to be a LITTLE less intoxicated on this night! 

OCMS, as I said, are without Willie Watson now.  I’m not sure as to the exact reason of the split, but they told him to go eat a sandwich and wished him their best...or something to that nature.  He actually left to pursue a solo career in LA, I believe.  Their sound is the same and yet sadly different without him.  I had been watching a lot of videos on YouTube of Ketch and Critter performing together.  They have a great chemistry and sound amazing together so I looked forward to seeing them perform together live.  They also had a new man with them they introduced as Chance McCoy.  “I see what they’re doing with his tight pants and his long hair,” my friend said.  Chance was an obvious Willie Watson replacement, but a promising one at that.  It was in no way the same, but by the end of the show we decided it wasn’t that bad. 

The plus side to having Chance with them now was his ability to play more instruments.  He played the fiddle along with Ketch, and added a different feel to things; he was high energy and very eager on stage.  He was a good addition but still lacked the voice and presence that Willie Watson brought to the plate.  Overall they still had really good energy and it was jolly fun.  They were definitely enjoying themselves.  Ketch and Critter were great together and it was awesome to hear more of the original sound with them together again.  A lot of favorites were played, some old, some new.  Wagon Wheel just isn’t the same without Willie.  They played some songs off of the new album.  My husband, who was not with us at the first show, drove us down and was here with us this time.  We enjoyed beverages and listened to live music for hours while meeting and talking to some really good people.  We had a very good time at this show.  They ended the night with everyone on stage doing The Band’s The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down and then lastly Dylan’s I Shall Be Released!!  It was glorious! All of the bands were great, I recommend them, and I highly recommend The Electric Factory in Philadelphia.  It is a truly awesome venue!  

- Missie Sue

SOURCES:

The Milk Carton Kids: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Milk_Carton_Kids

The Lumineers: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lumineers

Old Crow Medicine Show: http://www.crowmedicine.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Crow_Medicine_Show