03/04/2020
Open Slowly Wordsmith
12th Edition- February 28, 2020
I’d like to count-in this edition with my new method of song-starting: “McDonald, Darwin, Lincoln, Lemon.” It has the “1” on the “Don” and ends up sounding a bit like Def Leppard’s “Rock Of Ages” except in my familial tongue. It’s an appropriate way to finish off another birth-month, as I jump head first into another year of attempting to gather useless wisdom while allowing my connection to modern culture to further deteriorate. Middle-aged mystification is a real thing, and it takes a very conscious effort to relate to the things that my kids and my students find interesting and amusing. If given a free day without any kids, I generally fall into that comfortable pattern of things that take me back to my youth. Juxtaposed against the struggle to be “cool” with current, I understand why some people have high-blood pressure and stress related illnesses. How does one avoid the realm of cranky, old commoner? It takes work- hard work...and sometimes we just don’t have the energy to do the job. That’s okay- we all seem to have this same experience, so we should be able to provide ample support for each other even if it takes the form of a periodic whiny bitch-fest. As Trent Reznor says in his song that my band, Tuberous Bush Crickets, has chosen to humbly imitate, “We’re In This Together Now”. I tried a similar sentiment with The Prime Ministers by writing “Livin’ The Team” but for some reason I feel like I’m missing some of the dark symbolism of the NIN song. I don’t think Trent cares too much if I create a positive message for my own purposes- even if his song is supposed to be about our apocalyptic demise under the weight of our own pathetic decisions...or something to that extent.
Back to my opening- where I referred to four individuals that share my birthday, February 12th. After some friendly Facebook reminders about these prominent figures of my past (shout out to Christian Burke of Ethos, a worthy twelfth-born as well), I decided to create a four photo, framed memorial to these guys- which I will snapshot for the O.S.W. page at some point. Abraham Lincoln was the first one chiseled into the wood of my youth. I can remember kids at Christiancy Elementary (Go Cobras!) calling me honest Abe (even if my behavior didn’t always reciprocate) and the teachers always acknowledging our common day. For two school years of my teaching career, I dressed up like Lincoln on this date wearing the beard and hat with a black suit. Most said it was a valiant attempt, but my much shorter, thicker self-image ruined it for my posterity. Chronologically from my memories, the unique Tiger center-fielder Chet Lemon was the next notable due to my obsessive collecting of baseball cards and appreciation for bulleted information. He was a World Champ in 1984, characterized by his hustling style while patrolling the spacious Tiger Stadium outfield and while scampering around the base paths playing small-ball. He would make great diving catches where he would completely lay-out and sacrifice his body, or he would make the routine catches with hot-dog, one handed sass. He would slide head-first into every base if needed, dirt flying through his semi-afro and batting gloves flapping his ass. He was so much fun to watch, as was that entire 1984 Tiger team (Bless You Boys! says my 45 record of that song). My brief infatuation with Charles Darwin came in the form of a chosen research project sometime during junior high. I admit that, at the time, I didn’t have a full understanding of his work and theories, but I knew there was a feeling of controversy surrounding him. It took me a while longer to process all of the information and draw my own conclusions. He now represents the kind of intellectual bravery that I respect, and I admire his quest for truth in the face of a society that strongly discouraged his type of thinking, and by that I mean a society that was relatively not far removed from burning people at the stake for saying anything that might be considered anti-establishment or sacrilegious. These days it seems that the majority has agreed to simply allow his ideas to coexist with reasonably equal weight depending on the investment of the individual. The more invested in an idea, the less people are willing to listen to alternatives...and the more outlandish the justification becomes. Where do I stand? That’s a whole book that still probably doesn’t answer the question...but that’s life (great song that The Winonas covered after listening to the Sinatra version). Finally, we have Michael McDonald. The man with the golden voice (because it can sound like a brass instrument). I heard his voice when I was very young but didn’t know who he was. Songs like “What A Fool Believes” and “Keep Forgetting” that I didn’t know by name, but there was this guy with this mind-blowing voice singing words that I couldn’t comprehend because they were more like pitches coming from a french horn(?). Eventually I learned who it was, and I began to try to imitate his voice without caring what lyrics I sang. It was a game like “sing every song like Michael McDonald” for craps and giggles. Later came the SNL skit and Yacht Rock episodes and the Steely Dan documentary during which the guys at the mixing board are dumbfounded by the blinding rays of vocal tones coming from Michael’s backup performance for the song “Peg”. I have not seen him perform live (yet) and I look forward to our birthday duet that will happen after I hold up my large sign that explains our shared celebration. Maybe that’s what we’ll sing together...Kool and The Gang’s “Celebration”...but in Michael McDonald voice...for me at least. He will just...be him...with his voice...the actual voice of Michael McDonald.
My birthday wasn’t spent in the friendly confines of O.S.W. (can I say that, or is that only allowed for Wrigley Field?) but there were plenty other days during the Wintry month to grace it with the presence of fine musicians and good people. The cold season seems like it will finish up with strikingly less snow removal being done at the Gratiot building this year. My last outdoor work episode there blessed me with a pleasant All Tax interaction for once. A woman came out their front door with an enthusiastic curiosity for my battery powered snow shovel. She asked what it was and I explained that it was helpful for the minimal cost, but it was limiting in that it only threw the snow in one direction (holding off on any boy band jokes until I had more information regarding her musical tastes and possibly punny sense of humor). I also explained that it used an 82 volt lithium battery that was compatible with all of my outdoor equipment. She seemed intrigued to the point that I could imagine her going back in the office and beginning a shopping session on Amazon. After she went back inside, I remembered that I forgot to tell her about its cumbersome weight and how my back could only sustain short sessions of usage. Oh well- maybe she’s married to Magnus Ver Magnusson or the Mountain from Game Of Thrones...or maybe a woman of the same stature since I have an equal opportunity imagination. The studio can be quite cozy with the warm amplifier tubes glowing and good spirits flowing to supplement the fickle furnace. Rehearsals have been fairly regular with the aforementioned groups and no virgin visitors this month that I can remember. Todd Wicks’s songs are taking shape into LP form and it’s been fun playing with Todd’s brother, Joel, on drums again. Such a gentle soul and cool dude with an acute sense of when to play with power (excessive would be easy for a guy of his strength). I’m still happy with my contributions on guitar, even if my memory fails me sometimes between practices. It will be exciting to see where the songs go, and maybe another video is in the cards(?) I was in two videos for Todd’s songs, one where I was the drummer and another where I was the driver. We used Lucy (Amy’s name for my 1972 Mustang convertible, black on black) and cruised around the East Side using O.S.W. as the depot. Fun stuff that can be checked out on YouTube- “Who Makes The Rules” and “(One Way) Out Of The City”. Lucy is still conveniently in the shop (kudos to Rob at Auto Hospital) trying to rehab and get game ready by the summer. Tuberous Bush Crickets continued to crank out new tunes, as we jammed out the music on several occasions so that we could continue the same writing process of instrumental demo recordings being taken as my homework. I finished the lyrics at the end of the month and sent the new vocal laden arrangements to the boys via text. The TBC cast is awesome about making me feel like the creations are worthy of the time and effort, and they do an admirable job of constructively clipping things where it’s needed when we gather to play these takes. It would be nice for us to acquire another gig at some point soon to keep the fires burning for rock glory (or local band obscurity- they’re both fun, but the former is more financially beneficial). With Spring right around the corner, my life is about to be feverish with responsibilities that don’t involve playing music. I agreed to coach girls’ soccer at my school again during April and May, and three of my four kids will start hitting the little league ball diamond as well. I’d like to stay busy on Gratiot too, so it looks like I’m booking up pretty quickly already. So I won’t “just sit here and ruminate...with my navel to contemplate”- if you can put your finger on that 90’s gem/89X staple. Contrary to the Gandharvas’ song, you know how long this lasts.
