Here is something you should know about me.  Modesty aside, I am made of magic.  I know some of you are Rationalists and believe in only what you can physically sense.  Your imagination(?), your sense of wonder, stops at about the molecular or atomic level.

I believe that we are all of the same fabric.  At a quantum and cosmic level, we’re all part of the same expression.  Is that New Agey enough for you?  We think that our brains are separate from our bodies.  Our modern science and medicine is just catching up to the fact that the mind has influence over the body.  Heck.  We’re just catching up to realizing what we eat affects our body and mind.  We think that we are separate from … everything: each other, space, time, etc.

Of course, I also believe that time isn’t linear.  In some sense, if we could experience or perceive ourselves from another mathematical dimension, from a certain perspective Time is all now.  It’s a point.  Forward, backward, fast, slow, dilating, contracted.  Okay.  Fine.  Even if that’s true, what does it have to do with you or me?  Beats me.

You may be right.  I may be crazy.  But I’m just the kind of … what was I saying?  Oh right.

I tell you this, though.  There are times when things flow.  When I’m in a certain “mood”.  Things come together; I feel uplifted, and it feels like the Universe — Life — explodes with synchronicity, serendipity, coincidence, opportunity, momentum.  It’s a wave of happenstance.  I usually don’t stay on it long.  Hanging the cosmic 10.

If you know me long enough, you’ll see what I mean.  One day I’m going to ride these waves all the way to shore.  It’s gonna be something.  Come with.

Happy Halloween!

I just got back from the gig at ArtSpring in Silver Spring.  With Quineice and Sadie and Lyle.   Khadijah and Maceo were holding things down, of course.  Hook on the sound board.  And a surprise fan in the audience.  Good stuff.  What a pleasure.  I’m a lucky dude to know such good, talented people.  One of my favorite things in life is to see my friends — my closest friends, my aces — meet each other.  Plus making music together?  Oh wow.

Quineice is such a powerful but empathic vocalist and musician.  She’s amazing.  We didn’t practice for today.  We talked via email about a list of tunes.  I learned them, practiced, made some very loose lead sheets.  Got there and she laid them down like we’ve been playing together for years.  She can belt, she can croon, and she can work the energy level of a room at will.

Sadie has a beautiful voice.  The word “siren” comes to mind.  She’s got a shy thing going on when she performs but she’s an old soul.  There’s so much music to her.  I think she’s made of the stuff.  Composes great tunes or interprets standards in that fresh, beautiful way that great vocalists do.  We rehearsed/jammed a few times and what I like to do is just start playing something.  Anything.  A vamp, a tune.  She’ll instantly pick out one of my chords on her Nord.  Bam!  And she’s got it.  Or she’ll start randomly singing, vocalizing over it.  Packing up, I’ll intentionally commence to noodling and she’ll start singing something that would bring an audience to tears or to their feet.  I am in hog heaven, let me tell you.  Only problem is, every time she sings something I’m sitting there wishing that I were recording it.

And Lyle, of course.  I’ve known Lyle since college and he’s always been a great player.   Some 17 years later his musicianship is off the charts.  But he is so underexposed, it’s a shame.  You know when people say “consummate musician”?  I could write a concert’s worth of music featuring Lyle and you would come away wanting more.  I’m serious.  Flute, soprano sax, tenor, alto, keys.  All those different voices come in at just the right time to say the right thing.  He’ll make you, your music and your band sound good — professional and polished — no matter what.  Now if I could just get him on retainer.

And Ne’a Posey.  Wow.  She and her band were on it.  You know.  You play and then see someone else play and think, “I want to play like that.”

With all of that creative energy floating around I felt inspired to do some cornet practicing when I got home.  Excited about the Paruba double-bowled mouthpiece I bought on eBay.  Taking a cue of brilliance from Lyle L. and Todd M., I got in the car, drove a safe distance away from the apartment buildings and practiced.  I stink.  No chops.  But it’s fun.

New Songs

Here are two roughs for tunes that I wrote recently, which will hopefully feature Sadie and Todd, respectively:

City Lights

The Fountain at Upton Park

Finale 2010 (Music software geek talk)

Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve reached a tipping point in music productivity.  I make charts for these gigs, right.  You get a good group of talented musicians together, put some well-crafted charts in front of them, and they’ll make music out of those things like you wouldn’t believe.

Any recordings you’ve heard from past gigs with the full band?  No rehearsals involved.   We’re reading charts on the spot.  Easy for me since I wrote or arranged them, but the band pulls it together, makes it dynamic.  Makes it music.

So I was excited today when I figured out something in Finale 2010.  First of all, you can insert chords above the measures to make a lead sheet without attaching it to a note.  No more hidden layer bullcrap.  That’s one thing.  But I had a lot to chart and spent a lot of time last night and this morning tediously entering chords.

But today I got fed up and was running short on time and looked at the online manual to see if there were any shortcuts.  And guess what.  You can type in the chords now.  You just have to know the chord suffix symbol number.  So I started to mindfully keep track and captured the Chord Suffix Symbol window and made a PDF out of it.

Magic.  Freaking magic.

So now I can type the chords in.  Like writing an email (except for the memory lag and hesitation trying to remember those codes).  Keyboard shortcuts, ladies and gentlemen.

Plus, you can “hyperscribe”.  Got a MIDI keyboard hooked up, right.  So for the melody, I can play and it’s transcribed into the charts.

Type in chords.  Record the melody.

Lead sheet for a tune in 15 minutes instead of, like, an hour.

I’m a monster!  And just in time for Halloween.  Go figure.

Joe Squared, Sunday 11/1, 8-11pm

That’s where I’ll be.

• Sadie Flick – vocals
• Todd Marcus – bass clarinet
• Me – guitar
• Devon Petty – bass
• Amin Gumbs – drums

You should be there, too.

I give you Skiffy.

I find Hugo and Nebula nominees and winners.  That’s a good way to find things.  I think they usually have … like the human interest story is usually as (or more) prominent than the science fiction aspect.  Maybe that’s a generalization, though.

Hugo Award for Best Novel List

Nebula Award for Best Novel List

There’s no guarantee, though.  I’ve read most of “Rainbow’s End” by Vernor Vinge, for example, and couldn’t make it through.  Boring.

Frederik Pohl’s  “Gateway” was psychological sci fi.  It was pretty good.  Not enough exploration for my tastes, though.

By the way, I try to respond to all blog comments.  Sooner or later.  Just so you know.

My you-have-to-read-this list

(not including Octavia Butler or Neal Stephenson) is:

“Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang”, Kate Wilhelm

This is one of my all time favorites.  The unforeseen consequences of the clones meant to continue humanity are truly alienating.  I got lost in the setting, too.  Wilhelm’s exploration of the unpopulated Mid-Atlantic is mesmerizing.  She’s also the only author I’ve read where the climax isn’t based on violence.

“Dark Door”, Kate Wilhelm

Wilhelm’s crime-solving couple encounter an extra-galactic phenomenon.  Great premise and characters.

“Altered Carbon”, Richard K. Morgan

This is one of the few books I’ve read more than once.  So good.  Noir mystery/thriller in a future where a person can be stored in a small vial/chip and bodies are “sleeves”.  Morgan is X-rated but it fits the rawness of the worlds he creates.  There’s not much more satisfying than when Takeshi Kovacs goes ape-s—.

“One Second After”, William R. Forstchen

An EMP blast brings American society to a halt.  Some of the reviews I read criticized this book as being a right-wing fantasy.  But the issues are real and the consequences educational.  And terrifying.  We’re balanced on the head of a pin.  Without technology, electricity and infrastructure do we know how to survive?  I don’t.  Take a second and imagine no electricity and no working machines: no lights, computers, cell phones, radios or cars (except for antiques), no refrigeration, air conditioners, heating, no more food deliveries.  Food?  Water? Medication?  Now imagine a few million people looking for food and shelter.

“The Artifact”, Patrick Astre

This was fun.  Some of the characters (and the ending) are a little lightweight compared to the action, but still.  What I really appreciated is that the artifact is alien.  And by that I mean that it’s not anthropomorphized.  Well, only in the author’s attempts to understand its motivation.  It can’t be reasoned with.  It has a mission.

“The Quiet Girl”, Peter Hoeg

Not really sci fi, per se.  But the characters are memorable and the feel is haunting.  Kaspar Krone is an acoustically gifted (an extreme understatement on my part), retired clown who sets out to find and rescue(?) a mysterious little girl KlaraMaria.  She’s the only “silent” person he’s ever encountered.  It’s a wild ride and a little confusing at times but I thought it was beautiful.  You know how there are some books where you miss the characters and the place after you’re done.

“The Road”, Cormac McCarthy

There aren’t many books that reach me the same way that Octavia Butler does, but this is one of them.  It’s amazing but bring your anti-depressants with you for this one.  Genius.

“Daemon”, Daniel Suarez

I”m looking forward to the sequel.  It’s a fast-paced thrill ride of the … uh … summer roller coaster, you know, mile a minute.  Hold on to, um, the edge of your seat.  It’s a little twisty turny, too.  A tech gazillionaire leaves behind a post-humous distributed network of nearly artificial intelligence level daemons to coerce people into carrying out an agenda.  An agenda of what, I’m still not sure.  To oppose the slowly constricting controls of government??   By the end of this one you won’t be sure who you’re rooting for.

“Blue Light”, Walter Mosley

Imaginative and naturalistic.  Just how I likes ‘em.  A kind of cosmic storm blows by the earth.  Those struck by the blue rays of light become the embodiment of themselves, talents and actions.  I was hoping for more books like this one.  Mosley does have “Wave” and there’s “Futureworld”, a collection of stories, but he left a lot to explore in the “Blue Light” world.

“METAtropolis”, Jay Lake

This is a collaboration by a few authors.  Their goal was to re-imagine the metropolis, city living, society and structure.   Beyond cities.   It’s not particularly exciting most of the time but it does explore possibilities and makes efforts to avoid sci-fi cliches and conveniences.

Artemis Fowl

If you like young adult or kids’ stuff, Eoin Colfer’s “Artemis Fowl” series is great.  By the way, Colfer was tapped to write a 6th Hichhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy book.  I haven’t read it yet but it was just released.

Not sci fi, but still…

• “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”, Stieg Larsson
• “The Girl Who Played with Fire”, Stieg Larsson

The female protagonist, whose name I don’t know how to spell because I “read” via audiobook, is a force to be reckoned with.  She’s got a brutal tenacity.  You definitely would not want to make an enemy of her.

As long as I’m in the non-sci realm…

Anything by Adrian McKinty.  The “Dead” series is great, especially listened to.  That Irish accent is intoxicating.

• “Dead I Well May Be”
• “The Dead Yard”
• “Bloomsday Dead”

I’m in a writin’ mood.  Yet I don’t seem to be in a frame of mind to sit myself down and write.  Gonna have to do something about that.

I’ve read a bunch of sci fi books recently (not including the two Dr. Who ones, which were entertaining):

• “The Accidental  Time Machine”, Haldeman
• “Gateway”, Pohl
• “The Mote in God’s Eye”, Niven

And today I finished:

• “The Cat Who Walks Through Walls”,  Heinlein

First, I should say that I keep getting these guys confused so I’ll probably get some names mixed up while I’m writing this.  All of them made me think that I freaking miss Octavia Butler.

SPOILER ALERT!

“The Cat  Who  Walks Through Walls” was absolutely horrible, by the way.  Apparently it’s more digestible if you’ve read other Heinlein books.  It was a painful read, though.  Kind of a mess.  It started off as a self-described but interesting cliche of a mystery-thriller with a garrulous tongue-in-cheek tone and then about a third of the way in switched gears to devolve into … what.  A free love, time traveling/bending, reality unraveling meandering with an inexplicable amount of genealogy.  It was almost like reading the first few chapters of the Book of Matthew.  Why?

My theory is that when writers get to the point of fame, seniority and the license that popularity affords them, there enters an uncomfortable level of self-awareness.  And cynicism?  Almost too much of their personality makes it to the page.  You realize that it’s not their characters talking and interacting. It’s the author and the author’s blatant views and philosophy.

I’m going to swallow my race thing for now.   Heinlein, I read, pushed the envelope on that.  Seems like too many of these guys don’t/didn’t have any black friends, though.

“The Accidental Time Machine” started with an interesting concept.  A time machine that only jumps forward in time and exponentially forward.  The protagonist travels to the future at first a few years ahead, then hundreds, then thousands, hundreds of thousands, then millions of years in the future.  I was very disappointed that Haldeman skimmed most of those worlds.  It was such a smart book in a lot of ways but I guess it was never meant to be totally fleshed out.   Anyway, the exception (sigh) was the theological technocracy era where the MIT grad student protagonist picks up a beyond beautiful, innocent virgin but a virgin with no sense of sexual inhibition.  Blonde, of course.  “What is ‘pee-nis’?”  Well, okay, she didn’t actually say that but she might as well have.  The zero gravity hand job scene?  Really??  But the rest of the future worlds were just blips.  Sentient bear society, future LA and artificial intelligence collective, only humanity behind a walled off Australia, giant robo-monster on the moon but where is everyone?

They were just stepping stones on the way to a future advanced enough to have the technology to travel backward in time instead of just forward.

I dunno.  Not that these guys aren’t great writers or even visionary to some degree.  But now I see why these are the B-sides, so to speak.

Bored

I am aching for some good, smart science fiction!  I think I’m bored.  That’s the problem.  There are lots of different kinds of sci fi lit out there and apparently I  need to find some new good stuff.  I’m tired of the sermonizing.  Tired of the juvenile sexist wish fulfillment.  Tired of epic treatises on interplanetary politics/economics.  Tired of futuristic medieval societies.  Tired of thinly veiled allegories of the issues and countries/ethnicities of the day.  Tired of books that are love stories or otherwise mediocre dramas resting on a feeble plinth of sci fi . Tired of books where all of the alien mystery and intrigue is just there for mood and setting.  You know, the ones where the author avoids explaining or sometimes even exploring.

Like in “Contact”.  Did you see that movie?  Jodie Foster’s character travels in an alien-prescribed vehicle to some other part of the universe and when she meets an alien it turns out to be her father.  Ugh!  Well, it was an alien appearing to her in the form of her father.  After enduring all of that boring, rehashed faith vs. science dialogue.  What a cop out.  I’m talking to you, Carl Sagan (may you rest in peace).

Even when there are actual aliens they’re all humanoid.  What’s up with that?   How many stories have you read where the alien life is actually alien?  That’s why I really liked “Babylon 5″ and Astre’s “The Artifact”.    The former had all kinds of alien species interacting.  Lots of humanoids but also interacting with other … things.  And unfathomably ancient, advanced and otherly.  Gets the mind to racing.

There are a lot of post-apocalyptic books out now.  They all look the same.  Rational protagonist juxtaposed with religious cult.

I am acutely fatigued with obsessions with and critiques of organized religion.  Faith vs. reason.  Science vs. religion.  Technology vs. spirituality.  I think it’s a false dichotomy to begin with.   Too many authors, imo, have a none-too-subtle axe to grind.  And it’s a reactionary, nyah-nyah kind of axe.   But seriously, all of these utopian/dystopian or post-apocalyptic books are too concerned with making worn out points about the faults and weaknesses of organized religion.  And there will be more, no doubt, especially since pissing off religious people is an effective polemic, a great way to get media attention and therefore a great way to make money.  Well, that and the fact that the abusers and abuses of religion deserve to be lambasted.  But I’ll be avoiding them if I can help it.

Anyway, there’s the fight-the-system ilk.  “Daemon” was good, if not suffering from some form of literary ADD, and there’s going to be a sequel.  It’s fast and clever and hip.  The Traveler series, on the other hand, was repetitive and preachy but at least it had a story line to it.  Maya was the worst Harlequin ever, by the way.  In the first book she broke every one of her own tenets and had FAIL written all over her.  Her performance went downhill from there.

So I’m looking for the next thing.  I’d like to read more Kate Wilhelm sci fi.  She’s good.  Maybe I need to just get away from the dudes for a while.

BSG

It does help that I’ve started watching the Battlestar Galactica series.  Mid-way through season one.  It’s good.  Solid.  Smart.  Intriguing.  Gripping.  Moody.   I am seeing or foreseeing a little slippage, though.  I guess character studies are expected.   And some other cliches, especially with series, but I’ll sit on my pre-judging so I can just sit back and enjoy.  I really am enjoying the atmosphere so far.  They’ve switched gears from the Cylon battles and attack to the more psychological enemy-amongst-us.

Any suggestions?

These are not book reviews.  I haven’t read the books.  I listened to interviews and radio programs with the respective authors.  It’s more an editorial.  My opinions on the topic not an analysis of the books.

Whitopia

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113543979

This is interesting.  So that’s where you all are going!  The “exurbs”.

The author was also interviewed by Verna Avery Brown on WPFW.  I found it interesting that the questions she asked were … it’s like she was expecting early 20th century style racism when that’s not where the author is coming from.

It’s more about social/market forces, opportunity and security.  Plus an appreciation for ethnic diversity that applies to various cultures — food, music, dance, theater — but not the social consequences of living near or in the inner city with poor minorities.  The post-gentrification phase.

He also concluded that it’s more about class than race.  That’s what I gathered from the interviews.

“Did I Kiss Marriage Goodbye?”

Once or twice a year I hear this.  My hip Christian friends will know the name, Josh Harris.  He wrote “I Kissed Dating Goodbye”.  He’s kicked off a movement that continues to make waves in the evangelical Christian world.

I’ve written about this before and probably will every now and then because radio programs play these episodes a few times a year.

I’m not going to get into it too much, but the gist is that you don’t create intimacy with someone unless you intend to marry them.  That obviously means no sex, no living together, no kissing and no being alone together so as not to lead to temptation.  All social events are in groups.   You’re not dating.  You’re courting.

Josh Harris has since made a point of saying that this is what he did and he’s not saying that it’s for everyone.  It’s not a mandate.

But like I said, it’s kicked off a kind of movement or theme.  There’s also an ongoing discussion in the Christian world about single women.

There are some who say that Christian women should be a certain way.  Not aggressive, not assertive really when it comes to men.  That a woman should be feminine and inviting — without being immodest or flirting — so as to attract a man.  In some instances, they say that dating is a no-no because it creates expectations and false intimacy.  And that if she’s single well beyond what she wants or expects, then it may be God’s will for her to be single and celibate for her entire life.

Sigh.

If you’re a single woman and you want to get married or find a significant other, go for it.  I’m not one to give useful advice on dating and romance, but (paraphrasing something someone else said) unless you expect to marry the UPS, FedEx or pizza guy you’d better get yourself out there and make an effort.

The same person, can’t remember who it was, said that dating and relationships allow you to grow.  A lot of times the first guy you fall for, that attraction may be out of some kind of need or expectation.  It may not be entirely healthy.   You have to grow and learn about yourself through relationships with others.  That doesn’t mean you have to sleep around or sacrifice your principles.  You don’t have to dress like a rock video vixen.

Being slightly socially retarded myself, I can sincerely say that you may have to express interest in a guy.  Or you may have to be the one that says, “Hey, this friendship could be more than a friendship.”  You may have to initiate.  It may not be ideal or traditional, but it’s for real.  And you may get a “no thank you”.  That’s okay.  Not fun but it’s okay.

When I hear these Christian women talk about how God may not send them a husband so they’ll just try to mentor young women who are in relationships or to be an aunt-figure to young men and offer their help to married couples …  it’s so damn depressing.

And then someone always says at the end of the program, well one day we’ll all be the bride of Christ.

I wish you could see the look on my face right now.

I don’t care what you believe.  I don’t care if you’re an evangelical Atheist or the holiest of Christian holy rollers.  You’ve got one Here and Now.

Don’t buy into this madness that if you don’t have something it’s because it’s not meant to be.   If you applied that logic consistently, you would die of thirst or starvation or disease.  I can sit in my apartment and say that if God wanted me to be healthy he’d send me food.  But if I don’t get up every weekday and go to work to get paid so that I can go out and buy food and prepare it, I’m pushing up daisies in about a week or two.

Christian or otherwise, it’s your life.  You have to live it.

… said the guy who hasn’t left his apartment today.

Can I say that?

I guess I should qualify that statement.  I hate Adams Morgan on Friday and Saturday nights.  And maybe Thursday nights, too.

Oh wait.  I should warn you.  This blog entry is not interesting.  There’s no point, really.  No moral to the story.  No story.  Just externalizing.  It’s been a while since I stretched my writing muscles.

Character Development

I’ve been a little raw lately.  After having Leika euthanized I’ve been kind of withdrawn.  Haven’t really been in the mood for people.  And my father had a mishap and is in the hospital.  Luckily that’s not too, too serious.  He’ll recover after a few weeks of physical therapy but that was sobering.   I visited the family this past weekend for the first time in, what, a month?

I wrote the following in one of those “25 things about you” flurries that was going around Facebook earlier this year.  It’s about Leika.  It is apropos.

Leika, my dog, is my daemon. Even when she’s not around, she’s around if that makes any sense. If you’ve had a dog or cat before you know what I’m talking about. Even when they’re not around or after they’re gone, you’ll hear the sound of their nails on the floor or the clink of their chain. She’s always at my heel, whether she’s there or not. Whenever you’re with me, imagine that there’s a shepherd-ish mutt sitting by my feet or walking beside me and you’ll have a more accurate and real Gary experience.

Anyway, I did get out a little.  I’ve been out for some quality time with a few friends.  Worked on some music.  That’s always a good thing.  Good friends who remind me — in the midst of grief — with their presence and availability that life can be normal and good and will go on.

A few people have asked me if I’m going to get another dog.  I’m a little surprised that they expect me to.  But no.  I can’t do … that … again any time soon.  Besides, having a pet is a lot of work and responsibility, especially when you’re on your own.  It’s not fair to a young dog in particular to be alone all day.  I did that for years in Cali.  Plus you have to train them and what not.  It’s an investment and I don’t have another 15 years or so of that in me right now.  It’s the end of an era.  I’ve accepted that and now it’s time to adapt to the new era.  It’s kind of the same except I can go straight from work to the movies or to hear some music.  Don’t have to go home at all if I don’t want to.  I could go on a last minute weekend trip.  I have a little more flexibility and freedom.

The Setting

So.  The tone of this blog up to this point?  That’s been my state of mind, more or less.  That was my state of mind when I went to Adams Morgan on Saturday night to see a friend play at Columbia Station and return a CD.  I just want you to have a literary sense of the disparity.  Like Michael Douglas’s character in “Falling Down” when he’s sitting in the traffic jam, the buzzing fly, the booming music, the stifling heat, the explosive frustration.  Setting the tone, the mood.

I found a spot on 17th after circling the area for a while.  Pensive, I walked toward 18th via Kalorama.  You have to be careful in Adams Morgan, by the way.  There’s a fair amount of crime.  It’s a very diverse crowd: yuppies, college students, professionals, DC types, thugs, high schoolers, gay people, lots of cops.  It’s a real mix.  That’s generally a plus in my book.  Of course, when they’re all drunk that’s not really my scene.  And something about A.M. brings out the a-hole in people.  Maybe because it’s crowded and congested.  There are some people who’re looking to start something, too.  A friend told me he saw two guys in one of the stores exchange some words once and one of them pulled up his shirt to the butt of the gun.  My friend made it sound like an adventure.  I’ve had dudes roll by in their cars and randomly shout harsh things.  Not sure what my role is in that situation.  I think I’m supposed to shout back and then a car load of dread-headed dudes is supposed to get out and kick me around for a while until the cops show up.  Or don’t.

First thing I saw while walking toward 18th was two drivers almost mix it up.  You know how it is.  You turn a corner on a tight street only to realize that another car is coming toward you.  Honks ensued.  Normally that would be the end of it.  But no.

“What the f— is your problem?”

“What??  F— you, bitch!”

“Oh.  No.  F— you.  What?  You want something?  Get out of the car!”

“F— you!”

“Get out of the car, you f—king bitch!”

All of this screamed nearly hysterically back and forth by the two women driving.  It went on for a full two minutes or so.  In one of the cars, I saw a guy in the passenger seat reach over and touch the woman’s arm to calm her down and keep her from getting out of the car.  Apparently, she was ready to have a fist fight right there on the street.  I just kept walking.  That’s what I do.  I don’t want or need to see it.  I don’t care.  I’m on my way.

Columbia Station was crowded.  I’ve never seen it crowded before.  Then again I’ve never been there on a Saturday night before.  I managed to get my friend’s seat that she had occupied while on her set break.  Ended up next to a very drunk, loud woman who was also a singer.  Pretty.  But drunk and loud.  A, um, healthy young woman, shall we say.  Bustin’ out.  But loud and drunk.  My veneer began to crack.

Behind the band, a large plate glass window with a view of the people sitting on the patio and the passersby.  Lots of drunk frat boy types grabbing and hanging on each other like they tend to do.  Hitting on women walking by.

“Hey, dude.  I don’t think she likes us.”

There was a tall thin young woman dressed like a catholic school girl with pigtails and a bare midriff.  Standing with her back to me and on the small of her back someone had written WWJD with a cross between the W and the J.  Entertaining.  And of course a drunk guy who probably felt about 100x cooler than he was able to be while that intoxicated trying to talk to her.

By the way, I don’t know how many of you are lone wolves like myself, but I learned something.  If you go to a crowded place by yourself and grab a table, you’ll be bumped around a few times for larger parties.  It’s a business and 3 > 1.  After getting bumped twice, I had enough.  I guess if you’re solo you’re supposed to hang out at the bar, but I don’t make a good sardine so I passed on that one.  I wanted to stay until the end to see my friend off because she was moving across the country.  But the sound of a drunk, uninhibited singer sitting in with the band and my standing around awkwardly and self-consciously was enough to top off my crowd-tolerance tanks.  I went out to get some air.

And as I often do, I started walking and just kept going.

Up to the corner of 18th and Columbia.  Same block, different world.   That’s where the McDonald’s is.  Along the way, club girls in line for slices of pizza.  Leering drunk dudes.  Couples walking down the sidewalk at various stages of flirting and fondling.  Usually you’ll find black dudes hanging around outside of the McDonald’s.  They usually look homeless and some of them panhandle.  That’s my recollection, anyway.  Saturday night there were a few guys who looked to me like they had just auditioned to be the posse in a Li’l Wayne video who were there for the purpose of harrassing women.

“Hey.  Hey, miss.  Hey, miss.  Hey.  Hey.  Hey, miss.  Come on, girl.  Hey.  Hey.  Can I talk to you?  Hey, miss.”

When the women ignored them the dudes would curse at them.

“Bitch.  F— you with your rat-looking face.”

Something like that.  There were two girls walking in front of me.  They were slow so I walked around them.  As they were passing one of the McDonald’s Gang, he reached out and touched her arm and not so subtlely touched her chest in the process.  She ignored it and kept walking.  He had a sly grin on his face and turned to one of the guys like, “You see that?”

Another female friend of mine had a similar experience that resulted in her getting physically assaulted.  Reminded of that, it pissed me off to see it happen with my own eyes.  But I just walked on.  What can you do.  That’s Adams Morgan on a weekend.

Saw two guys and a woman.  Back on 18th by way of the western approach on Kalorama.  One of the guys was cursing up a storm.  Not mad-cursing but F-bomb-every-other-word cursing. Loud and cursing.   I was thinking, how does she feel about that?  Like, is that her boyfriend’s friend and they’re hanging out and this dude is being a complete, loud asshat?  Or is he her boyfriend and she’s just cool with that?  I tried to read her expression but, oddly, couldn’t find one.

I walked around for a while, wary of the group of young black guys that I had seen three times before.  I guess they were just walking around, too, but you’ve got to stay on your toes.  Can’t let your guard down.  Lots of robberies and fights there.  It gets gnarlier around about 3am, too, by the way.  When all the bars and clubs close. Everybody’s on the streets and is f—ed up on something.  Consider yourself warned.

Now, if you know me you know how the night ended.  Want to take a guess?

That’s right.  A late dinner at El Tamarindo.  Steak al Caballo this time.  Oh man it was so good.  Not healthy, maybe, but good.  A thin steak with two sunny side up eggs on top, rice and beans.   What can I say.  I’m a foodie.

Darn this introvert personality.  Adams Morgan on a weekend definitely takes it out of me.  Dread it.  It amazes me that people are so into it.  The whole clubbing, barhopping scene.  I can’t relate.  I went with some friends one night years ago to a club there.  Had to get out of there.  I had planned to have a drink, relax and maybe even dance with the chicks we were with.  But those places put me so on edge.  Like I was born to be a body guard or something.  I go into hyper alert survival mode.  There is no relaxing.

So I took off and went to El Tamarindo.  Met up with a friend and had a good, relaxing time.  It’s good for what ails you.

One of my nephews started playing saxophone in school.  I went up to Baltimore to give him a music lesson yesterday.  He’s very hard on himself.   Have you ever seen someone make a mistake and then have a mini-tantrum at themselves?  You musicians know how music is.  When you practice you make constant mistakes.  It takes hours of shedding over days/weeks/months/years to really be able to express yourself like you want.

Now imagine if flubbing just one note or holding just one note too long makes you feel like you don’t deserve to live.  So it’s never just a music lesson with him.  It’s kind of like therapy.  And it’s frustrating for people who tutor or teach him.  I’m hoping that I can help.  I tried to communicate:

1. Mistakes are a part of learning.  Practicing means that you’re attempting something challenging so you’re not going to get it right the first, second, third, or even the one hundredth time.
2. If someone were sitting here in the room with us saying things like, “You’re stupid.  You’re never going to get this.  You can’t do anything right.”  What would you think about that person?  What would other people say to that person saying mean things to you?   Well, guess what.  You’re doing that to yourself.  You’ve got to get past mentally/emotionally abusing yourself.  You have to show yourself the same love, respect and patience that you’d show your best friend.
3. Yes, I make mistakes and express frustration, too.  (I brought my pocket trumpet with me so we could play together, which was both fun for me and very helpful for him, especially since it’s been so long since I’ve played a horn.)  But it doesn’t hurt.  It doesn’t hurt me when I mess up.  It doesn’t make me feel bad about myself.  I just keep going.

He did make a lot of progress, musically speaking, though.  I was able to answer some questions.  There aren’t other musicians in our immediate family.  I’m usually pretty good at figuring out the way to reach people when I try to teach/tutor.  You know, get a feel for their learning style, quirks and psychological motives.  All learning comes with personal baggage attached.  Some people feel inadequate, some feel like they have something to prove, some want to show off, some want the approval of a teacher, some want attention or quality time, and so on.

Fascinating, frustrating and rewarding.  All at the same time.

Anyway, I started writing the above to say how much fun I had playing the trumpet again.

Unfortunately, when I ordered the Cecilio pocket trumpet, I bought the less expensive one.  The one without the fancy valves.  So the valves stick.  Very frustrating.  Beautiful instrument but … I guess I’ll have to see if it can be repaired or adjusted.  I’m cleaning the valves as I type.  I washed them and now they’re drying.  We’ll see what happens.

Today I whipped out the ol’ cornet I bought from a pawn shop years ago.  Oiled it up and it sounds pretty good.  I don’t, but I can feel the potential there.  A little control returning.  Man, it feels so good.  We’ll see where I am in a few weeks.

Expect to hear a little trumpeting on future recordings.

I had Leika euthanized today.  Her heart stopped beating on October 3, 2009 4:03pm EST.

She made it to sixteen.  Just barely, but she made it.  I guess that’s a ripe old age for a dog.  16 x 7 = 112.

I apologize to everyone who should have gotten the chance to say goodbye.

If you read the blog before this one you know that she was sick last weekend.  I gave her some table scraps.  Very few, but still.  She got sick but then got better.   I live on the 2nd floor and the only way to get to terra firma is down the cement, horizontal slat stairs.

Anyway, she was able to go up and down the steps this week.  Friday night I got home from work and she was a bit shaky, but managing.  This morning, Saturday morning, same thing but … something was off.  She didn’t seem to be in pain, but she was walking stiffly.  Not in pain, as far as I could tell but not in great shape.

Last night, Friday night, I put the leash on and we went on to the landing.  She walked to the top of one flight of stairs, looked at it and turned around.  I nudged her toward the opposing stairs, same thing.  She looked at them, turned around walked back to our door, stopping mid way to relieve herself right there on the landing.

Getting desperate, was I.

Ever since last weekend I’ve been trying to brainstorm some way to easily carry her up and down the stairs.  She wouldn’t let me lift her, bodily, and I’ve been afraid to hear another shriek of pain even though she wasn’t having stomach issues any more.  I’ve been looking at things online.  Looked for a plastic kennel that I could carry, maybe.  Big duffel bags.  And this morning I set my mind to it.  I’m part engineer and when I set my mind to solving a problem, it usually gets solved.

I looked for giant duffels at Full Metal Jacket in Alexandria.  Nothing.  But there was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever in the store who followed me around and insisted that I pet him/her.  Such clear, big, brown soulful eyes.  That made me more determined to do right by Leika.

I went to REI.  None of the fancy backpack bags were big enough.  Eventually, a young woman asked if I needed help.  I said no at first and then I said, “Okay, I’ve got a strange question for you.”

I told her about my situation and that I was trying to find a way to carry an old, infirmed dog.  She listened, commiserated where appropriate.  I expected a blank expression and  sincere but misguided help from her.  But she said that she used to carry and/or lift her dog into her tree house.  I was like, “Of all the people I could have asked for help, I got you.  Is that lucky or what?”

I walked out with a XXXL REI duffel bag and a self-inflating sleeping pad that would fit inside for support.  Of course, the only problem was how to get Leika to sit in it.

I stopped at Safeway on the way home and picked up some dog food.  Forgot the snacks like a dummy.

When I got home, Leika was laying there, but she didn’t get up.  When she did get up it was evident that she didn’t have full control of her legs.  She could stand but walking was a chore.  She was previously diagnosed with having a possible brain or spinal tumor.  Ever since her illness last weekend, the neurological issues seem to have been exacerbated.

Usually when I open the patio screen she charges out.  Or she walks purposefully out, if she’s sore or stiff.  Today, she started to walk out but it was like her legs locked up on her.  So she just sat down because that’s all she could do.

And that was it.  No way in hell she could do stairs.  She couldn’t even support herself to go to the bathroom.  And she whined once in frustration, I think.

I called the vet and asked about euthanizing her.  There was nothing I could do to help her, to fix her.

Ultimately, the tarp trick worked to lift her into the giant, padded duffel.  It worked perfectly.

When I bought this stuff today, I thought I would just be helping her to avoid the stairs and that we would have months if not a few more aging, slow years together.  I didn’t think it would be for her final voyage.

I was there at the end.  Something I had promised to do and was kind of afraid that some circumstance would arrive that would prevent me from being there for her.  But I was there.  It was quiet and peaceful.  As always, the staff at Sacramento Veterinary Hospital were professional and compassionate and helpful.

Fourteen and a half years of friendship.  We’ve driven across the country between the Bay Area to Baltimore together three times.  When she stayed with my grandmother and aunt in Baltimore, I would drive up every weekend to pick her up.  Then drive back to drop her off.  Because I had promised her long ago (I was the third person to adopt her) that I would never abandon her.  Yes, I did actually make a promise to a dog.  Word is bond.

It’s so quiet.  So empty.  I keep expecting her to be in the other room.  To see her tomorrow.   It’s surreal.  An hour ago she was here.  An hour later … she’s gone.

Goodbye, Leika.

No more leashes.

No more collars.

No more fences.

Run, girl.

work

Today is the first day of my second week at the new job in Arlington.

It’s good stuff.  It’s my usual web designer/developer role.  It’s a pleasure to be able to get my hands dirty with design.  It’s been too long.  There are some really interesting design projects to tackle.  Lots of them, actually.    Good people, good work, yet another great location.

I really am lucky to have worked in some of the best spots in the country.  It’s pretty amazing when I think about it:  Cupertino, Sunnyvale, Palo Alto, Los Gatos briefly, San Franciso South of Market, Chinatown/Penn Quarter in DC, K St., and now Arlington.  Just a few blocks from Ballston Mall.

By the way, I have to thank Alejo, Dave, and Michael M., the design team I worked with at NAVTEQ.  I picked up so much good stuff from them.  Design patterns, techniques, interacting with colleagues, documenting designs, Adobe InDesign for design work, templates, workflow, online resources, conferences, seminars, DC design groups.  And how to be a UX team of one, when necessary.

I’m still trying to get the commute down.  And parking.  The one free, non-permitted parking spot in Arlington, apparently, is about a half mile from the office so that’s what I do.  It’s okay for now.  The weather’s nice.

That area is impressive in its way.  Virginia Square, Ballston.  Adjacent to the library and Quincy Park.  It’s clean and hyper-civilized in that spotless, nice but annoying if-the-world-were-run-by-a-condo-association way.  And everybody is jogging.  No matter what time I go out or get in or walk around people are jogging.  It’s great, but it kind of freaks me out.  Who are these people?  How do you have time to go jogging at all hours the day?

I think white folks (sorry S.F.) are going to live forever, if jogging contributes to health.  Live forever and eventually get their knees replaced with bionics.

Oh, and not Metro.  Commuting via Metro would be nice if it were, like, 2 or 3 stops.  You know, you could walk if they have delays.  You get to be among the pre-occupied masses.  But I kind of like driving (especially since my schedule is a little flexible.)

music

I’ll be playing this Sunday at JoJo’s.  Just two songs.  I’ll be accompanying Khadijah/Moon.  And that’ll be good practice for our gig on October 11th Saturday morning at the Green Festival.

After that I’ll be playing at Silver Spring at ArtSpring on October 31st.  Accompanying Quineice and playing a few with Sadie.

I’m looking forward to that.

what else

There’s not much else going on.  It was a bad weekend for the d.o.g.  Poor Leika.  People, don’t give your dog table food.  I thought that she wasn’t going to make it to 16 (in October).  It was that bad.

I cooked something, but I think it had gone off because it messed with me a bit.  And I had given just a few scraps — very few — to Leika.  And she suffered for about 48 hours.  We went out, down the stairs after a rehearsal on Saturday night.  Did her business and I thought she was okay.  Just dragging a little.  It was pouring rain and we were soaking wet.  I was thinking that maybe the humidity was affecting her joints?

But she couldn’t get back up the stairs.  She tried three times but just couldn’t do it and that’s a bad scene on those stairs.  They’re not like a wood stair case.  They’re cement risers — horizontal slats only.  She was in pain when I tried to help her or tried to see if she’d let me lift her.  I touched along her back and hips to see if it was a nerve or arthritis thing,  Then I touched her stomach and … let’s just say there was no mistaking that sound.

I have a ramp in the car for her that I got a while ago when she was having issues with her joints.  So I got her in the car.  Sat there for a bit to think of what my options were.  Actually drove to the emergency place, but by that time she was able to lay down.  So I sat there for a bit thinking about the cost — possibly upwards of a thousand dollars if they ran tests and kept her for observation.

I drove back home and just sat in the car with her a while.  Until about 2am.  I’m kind of ashamed to have not just taken her to the emergency place, but I decided to wait until morning to see if she’d get any better.  She seemed to be coping — no vomiting, no diarrhea, no blood — and I wanted to wait until Monday to take her to my regular vet if necessary.

It took me about half an hour to figure out how (and with what) to get her up the stairs.  I managed to get her to lay on a tarp I keep in the car, made a big sick-dog burrito out of her, and managed to lift it by the fabric and get her up the steps.  It wasn’t easy, but it worked.

Mental note: I’m going to have to figure out a way to deal with something like this in the future.

By Sunday evening she was much better.  Fed her a little bit of plain rice, which can help a dog’s stomach when they’re having problems.  I went out for a bit, came back and she was on the futon, which is a good sign.  Well enough to climb on and off it.  She was able to do the stairs.

On the mend.  Much better now.  And back to her regular, distracting antics.

supposed to be doing something right now

You’ll notice the amount of writing for these topics.  That’s in proportion to mental energy spent over the past few days.

Work is cool.  It’s … filling, if you know what I mean.  I get home tired.  Haven’t been blogging, Facebooking, or IMing excessively.  That’s a good sign but obviously I’m still trying to get things in balance.  Social life is still a shambles but with occasional quality time with some truly beautiful people.

I really have to slow myself down at work.  I’ve been compulsively going at the work projects.  I can’t keep up that pace indefinitely so I’ll have to exercise some discipline and save some for the home stretch.

And that’s all.

How are you dong?

Here are two quotes re: health care for you:

“This is not a political issue.  This is a moral issue and it’s time to fix it.”

“If [Pres. Obama] accomplishes health care that will be the end of America.”

What America needs, imo, is Health Care and not just Health Insurance.

Oh.  And there’s a sign that I wish I could show you.  Oh wait.  I can.  I’ll just pause the TV and take a pic with the iPhone camera.  Pardon the CRT scan lines.

In particular, observe the “Obama: R.I.P. American Dream 1776-2008″ sign.  I’ll get to that in a bit.

Facebook Status Wars

Do you remember a week or two ago when that wall post was going around Facebook?  You know.  The “No one should die because they can’t afford health insurance” status.  Frankly, I was shocked by some of the responses.  Obviously, the responses were political.  I don’t believe that my friends, especially the good Christians, really disagree with that statement on its face.  I am 100% sure that they don’t want poor people or their children or some of my relatives to suffer and die just because they either can’t afford health insurance or because they can’t find a job that will provide health insurance.

And I’m sure that my Christian friends don’t laugh insidiously at the thought of Jesus, their Lord and savior, telling that cripple dude that was lowered through the roof that unless he could prove that he could pay — I’m sure Jesus and the apostles could have used a few more donkeys or sandals or something to spread the good word — he was S.O.L.

I know this.

And yet the responses were reactionary, childish and, frankly, immoral.

Like the sarcastic rejoinder:  “If you believe that no one should ever die and puppies should poop rainbows and money should grow out of the ground, post this as your Facebook status.”

The other day someone said that a friend of his thinks that people who are rich or successful deserve better health care.  That’s bordering on eugenics via corporation/maximum profitability.

What does that have to do with people who are literally dying because they can’t get coverage because of a pre-existing condition?  Sorry.  You already have cancer so there’s nothing we can do for you.  That … is rationing.

I’ve mentioned this before.  I’ll mention it again.  Last year I was in the emergency room and saw a Caucasian soldier walk up to the receptionist with a young woman.  He asked what his options were because his pregnant fifteen year old sister was having complications.  He said that he couldn’t afford to pay and that his medical benefits didn’t cover her.  The receptionist said that, of course, they would treat the girl.  And he asked, how will I pay for it?   And the receptionist said, “Don’t worry, sir.  We’ll treat her.”

And of course, they did.  Who is going to pay the bill?  When he’s deployed in Iraq or Afghanistan, will a $10,000 emergency care bill be waiting for him in the mail?

Why, I ask myself, are all of these outraged, frightened people old and white?  Why, I wonder, are all of these Medicare/Medicaid recipients so adamant that they retain their health benefits and are terrified that the system will be improved for sub-seniors?  I’ll get to that in a bit, too.

The First Amendment

Town halls.  Joe Wilson.

I’m tired of people ,who I can only imagine listen to Rush or Glenn Beck or Sean Hannity, crying foul when the unruly mobs intentionally and strategically preventing discourse at town halls are described negatively.  You, sir or madam, are full of s—.  There’s a right to free speech and assembly.  There are also consequences.

People showed up at some town halls, even one where the President was speaking, with loaded guns.  Legal for them to do so.  And they were all treated as citizens expressing themselves as long as the situation was relatively calm.  A few years ago, protestors were being kept in Free Speech Zones — let me say that again — Free Speech ZONES!!!

Apparently, it’s okay to disturb the peace and to be aggressive, even physically, and to form an angry mob.  It’s okay to compare the President to or outright call him Hitler.  It’s okay to pray publicly that the President will be killed or conveniently die.  But somehow criticizing people for being assholes is somehow suppressing free speech??  How’s that work again?

Note that I’m not necessarily criticizing (yet) what they were saying, but how they were saying it in angry, paranoid, ignorant mob form.  Following a strategy.  Not that they weren’t often real people with real concerns and fears.  But they were real, misinformed people using specific tactics from right-wing and anti-reform quarters.  They are real people who believe outrageous lies.

And that’s a shame because they have some real concerns that aren’t being heard.  These are people with children and grandchildren, all of whom should have the best health care possible.  These people mobbing the town hall meetings want the best for their families.  They’re concerned about the deficit (all of a sudden), which is a legitimate concern.  They want to make sure that any reforms don’t have unintended consequences by way of Byzantine legislative interactions.

They may not think that reform needs to be comprehensive.  Or that it should/could be accomplished in stages — rolled out.  They’re afraid of government bureaucracy and what that could mean for when they and their loved ones need quick and responsive care that requires approval for procedures.

But do we hear that?  Nope.  We see an angry crowd shouting at a congress person for not answering a question.  And then shouting down the congress person when he or she tries to speak.  Then they rail about death panels, Nazis, the death of America, Socialism and anything else that could possibly scare them.

To my Republican and Conservatives friends, please don’t let the paranoid and the conspiracy nuts become the voice of the political and social Right Wing.  Birthers, Deathers, Tenthers.  All being pandered to by legislators.  It’s a shame.

Scared White People

This probably doesn’t mean you if you’re still reading this.  The same as when I complain about some black people on the Metro I’m not talking about everybody.  I’m talking about some, which just happen to be the most vocal or visible.

Note that when the Clintons were trying to reform health care people were not wailing and gnashing their teeth in the streets about it being the “end of America”.  They weren’t crying on TV about how they’ve lost “their” America.

I’m going to use the word racism.  Maybe xenophobia is a better word.

I tried listening to Sandy Rios’ podcast.  She was president of Concerned Women for America for a while.  Now she’s back in Chicago(?) and has a radio show.  I couldn’t listen because she has, apparently, gone off the deep end.  To paraphrase her, she said:

“I don’t care what anyone says.  Obama did not have the same upbringing as us.  No matter what you say.  He is not one of us.”

Of course, Glen Beck said that Obama is a racist that hates white people.

Obama has “over and over again” exposed himself as “a guy who has a deep-seated hatred for white people or the white culture. I don’t know what it is…”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t like white people, I’m saying he has a problem,” Beck said. “This guy is, I believe, a racist.”

Look at this and observe Pres. Obama’s intense hatred of white people — like his mother, grandmother and entire maternal side of his family, his classmates and colleagues.  Oh, the utter hatred in his eyes.

There is a population of white people who are afraid of black people.  Well, they’re afraid of change.  The thought of a black president — expressed by a woman interviewed on NRP who said that she was afraid that if Obama were elected black men would push her off the sidewalk — is disconcerting to this population.

These are the people who say that they feel like “their America” or the America that they knew and loved is gone or is in danger.  Anyone who says or holds a sign that says that America ended in 2008 — racist.  Not in that they hate all black people or that they think they are inherently superior to black people.  They’re racist because they’re afraid of black people.  They’re afraid, maybe, of some kind of revenge for the sins of the United States of America against minorities and against its own tenets and founding principles.

They, in their strange fear-twisted reasoning, think that a black president wants them dead.  They are willing to believe that Obama wants to set up government panels to hasten their deaths.

Not because they’re stupid, but because they’re frightened.  Fear short circuits rationality.  Ignorance is much easier than the work it takes to accomplish something useful.  Saying “No” is much easier than proposing a viable alternative.

The Upside

But I refuse to be all doom and gloom today.  It’s a beautiful day.  I’m off work for the week and have no idea what to do with myself.  I do know that I don’t want to be inside all day.  Man.  I want my bike back.

Anyway, the brilliance of the Obama Adminstration’s strategy is that they set a goal to have the health care bill passed before Congress’s recess in August.  That goal was not achieved, but in failing to reach it the conversation and proposed legislation is farther along than any of us would have imagined.  And even those who are adamantly opposed to a public option … well, I’m hoping to hear something substantive from them.

We’re actually reaching the point of discussion as opposed to just shouting, punching, loaded guns and biting each other’s fingers off.  That’s progress.

Meanwhile, America, how about some preemptive health care?  I’ve been really happy to see a lot of people exercising and making better eating choices.   Coming home from work I see middle aged black women going for their evening walks.  Some in groups.  That is such a great thing to see.

To everyone making an effort, keep it up.  You’re doing good work.  It’s the best health care you can have, to take care of yourself.

I’m with you.

I think I’ll go outside and take some pictures.  Have a great day, everyone.

Here are the four tunes I have recorded at my gig at the Potter’s House last Friday night.  The playlist mode is so you can listen and enjoy as you read this.  Or laze around sipping on your beverage of choice.

Playlist

Recap

As always, there was so much talent at the Potter’s House the other night it was amazing.  Many thanks to and much appreciation for Khadijah aka Moon.  She is all kinds of awesome and is a force of a nature — in the best of ways.  Keep it up.

It’s an honor to participate in these events.

With this band you’ve got the wind at your back.

• Lyle Link – Tenor Sax, Soprano Sax, Flute
• Todd Marcus – Bass Clarinet
• Harry Appelman – Keys
• Steve Zerlin – Bass
• Amin Gumbs – Drums

And I was on guitar.  As I said at the gig, with these guys I could stand up there all night in front of them, play one note and the audience would walk away thinking I was the best guitarist in the world.

I’ve pointed out some highlights below.  Just things I noticed here and there that stand out.  But these guys were working it all night.  Steve turned all of those one chord jams and various vamps into lyrical music.  And Harry provided all kinds of color, texture and comping.  Amin is rock solid.  He’s like a library of grooves and feels and it all happens right when and how it should.

I point out the rhythm section because the horns and vocalists and such have a lot of visibility when the rhythm section sometimes doesn’t get its props.

When ft.  Quineice (4:26)

Download (right-click this link and “Save as…”)

• Tenor sax and bass clarinet together are like two brothers.
• 0:40 – Lyle breaks out the flute.  Such a nice texture.  I’ll have to remember that.
• 4:15 – The guitar and flute do a fill at the same time and you hear those voices blend.  Nice.

The Toad Wants to Be a Prince (Solos) (4:04)

Download (right-click this link and “Save as…”)

This came off even better than I had hoped.  Alas, the gods of recording-your-own-gig are fickle and have a cruel sense of humor so, of course, the H2 ran out of space about 8 measures before the charted/”orchestrated” melody — the highlight of the song.  So it goes.

• Check out Amin on this one.  He is a beast! (It got even better during the part of the song that didn’t make it to the recording.)
• Todd and Lyle solo together up front.
• 2:25 – The Rhodes solo over the crunchy atmospheric guitar is pretty sweet.

The second half of the song kind of goes like this (the sample I made for the band):

Except it sounded a hundred times better with real musicians playing real instruments and making something beautiful out of it.  How Amin played the DnB groove and rocked all the highs and lows, I don’t know.  But he did.

Mr. Crazy ft. Quineice (4:32)

Download (right-click this link and “Save as…”)

Q is amazing.  I’ve got to fess up here.  We pushed the tempo on this one but Q took that and turned it into energy.  You go, girl.

You Don’t Know What Love Is/I Dream ft. Ozara Ode (12:54)

Download (right-click this link and “Save as…”)

Lord have mercy.  What can I say about Ozara.

• 5:17 – Check out Todd’s solo and the interplay with Ozara.
• 6:06 – Ozara breaks it down. Yes she does.
• 7:08 – Poetry
• 7:20 – Todd doubles the bass line.
• 10:52 – The horns lay down some harmonized pad.
• 11:54 – Check out Lyle’s soprano sax solo as we take the song out.
• 12:20 – Soprano sax and distorted guitar.  I dig it.