City Called Las Cruces

Exhausted, yes.  But also energized by the taste of red chile enchiladas, sight of fuschia Crepe Myrtle, cacophonous sound of the practice hall, arid feel of desert sunshine, and the unmistakeable smell of the choir room.  And strangely nostalgic for all that heartache associated with my struggle to finish a music degree.

After years of cutting my jazz teeth on Chicago stages, I was invited back to New Mexico State University for the Jack Ward Invitational Choral Festival last weekend.  I remember my junior year of high school, my Concert Chorale was invited way back in 19--- er, in the 90's, and the excitement of sharing the stage with real college music students.  At that time of my life, I didn't plan on going on to study music.  I guess I eventually came around. 

Every year during music school, we did this festival.  Invitees were NMSU Choir alumni with successful careers in opera or education.  Although I tried my hand at both, I rested assured that I would never be invited back for either discipline.  The genesis of this invitation was actually a newspaper article about my knitting.  My university choir director, Dr. Alt read between the lines, and recognized that in addition to knitting up a storm and becoming a marketing maven in Chicago, I was also still performing.  We chatted on email and she invited me to do the concert.  We focused on gospel selections, including my favorite song to sing, Josephine Poelinlitz's arrangement of City Called Heaven.  Both the Deming High School Choir and NMSU Choirs were outstanding in their performances, and all came together for the gospel tunes.  There are no words to describe what it is like to sing that song with a strong choir of 100 behind you.  Religious or not, you're gonna feel the spirit.  As an encore, my university voice instructor Chris Sanders, and my dear friend Della Bustamante joined me onstage for our rendition of Bridge Over Troubled Water/This Little Light of Mine.  To be found on the stage with those two ladies, the greatest talents I know--I'm starstruck and the luckiest girl in the world to collaborate with them. 

I was truly honored to be invited back to my alma mater, give some lessons, and hopefully impart some knowledge to high school and college music students.  Thank you Dr. Alt and NMSU Choirs for having me.  True to my rebellious fashion, I will not include recordings, or even pictures of  the show, but a recipe from my reception.  Enjoy!

Carrot Ginger Soup

Soup:
4 lbs carrots, diced

1 large sweet onion, diced

4-6 cups vegan bouillion ("Better Than Bouillion" is best)
1/3 c. grated ginger
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
Salt and pepper to taste


Yogurt:
1 c. plain Greek yogurt
1 Tbsp. honey
5 sprigs of thyme, chopped
Optional sunflower or pumpkin seeds to garnish

(The yogurt is best when made 24 hours before serving) Add thyme and honey to yogurt, mix thoroughly, and refrigerate overnight.

Sweat onion in a large stockpot with olive oil, until translucent. Add carrots, ginger, and bouillion. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 40 minutes, or until carrots are soft. Puree soup with an immersion blender. Return to stockpot and warm over low heat.

Serve soup with a schmear of yogurt and a sprinkle of seeds, and impress the heck out of your guests!

We We Love Love Davy Davy

I met Davy. 

I've been waiting for this day since I was 9.  I fantasized that the Monkeemobile would break down in my neighborhood, and the boys from Malibu would knock on my door for help.  I would be able to make them grilled cheese sandwiches while they waited for a mechanic.  Back then, I couldn't listen to More of the Monkees with anyone else in the room.  It was an intensely personal moment when Davy whispered the girls' names in Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow).   I was pretty sure he was singing to me.  Their car never broke down on Mackland Avenue, but when I won three tickets to see Davy last weekend, I figured fate was finally on my side.

During the concert, he did a couple songs that surprised me, including Papa Gene's Blues (a Mike song) and No Time (SUCH a Micky song), and they were both wonderful. Oh, and he started the show with about 20 minutes of only moderately funny, Don Rickles-y offensive humor. I don't want to be too critical when we had free seats, but he really could've started with a song. One of my concert buddies moaned, "Boooo-ring" during his awful spiel. She's 10 years old, so she gets a pass.  Honestly, the girl made a glittered sign, and deserved to hear Valleri!  Her mom dutifully covered her eyes when Davy unbuttoned his shirt and did a spicy hip-bump to "The Stripper." This little trouper, out way past her bedtime, was the sole reason we got backstage to see Mr. Jones.

As Davy strutted out to an instrumental Daddy's Song, I deferred to Michele, who is a world-class concert veteran, and autograph-getter.  My mouth said, "I'm following you."  My 9-year-old heart was saying, "Oh please oh please help me figure out how to meet Davy, oh master of fandom!" We waited.  And waited.  And just when it seemed like they weren't going to let us backstage, the owner of the club noticed our 10-year old partner in crime.  It was like a scene out of Paper Moon.  She was just about to fall asleep, holding her little sign reading, "We WE Love LOVE Davy DAVY."  Suddenly energized, we trotted downstairs and entered his room.

The thing that struck me was that his eyes looked a lot lighter in person. And I was too scared to talk to him or shake his hand. So I let my friends do that for me. I manned the camera while they said cheese. He was obviously tired after his show, which had no air conditioning. He stayed extra long for all his diehards to come through his dressing room, so I didn't want to start blubbering and freak him out.

If this inspires you to spin some Monkees discs, here are a couple of my favorite dark horses:  Someday Man from Instant Replay, and Long Way Home from Pool It!.  So, that's one checkmark off the bucket list. My next target is Micky, for sure. Hopefully I'm not as sweaty when I meet him.

Yer Trash

Sheer terror.  

As I exited Roosevelt University's Audtorium Theater, I was overcome with the fear that I wouldn't remember every comedy nugget from my evening with David Sedaris, of which there were a boatload.  I suppose I should point out that it was our evening with Mr. Sedaris.  I bought the tickets months ago, technically as a Christmas present for Marky, but it was a semi-selfish gift knowing I'd be his date.  How I adore stepping into a historic venue, complete with gold leaf and frescoes, nestling into a springy chair that lets me sit upright, placing my jacket below it, confident that my garment is in no danger of Mr. Pibb or nacho cheese stains.  Before any show begins, I tend to rate the audience, for they are equally, if not more responsible for my evening's enjoyment.  Hundreds of iPhones went black as the opening speaker received hoots and hollers for mentioning NPR.  This was an A+ group.

The theater nerd that I am, I couldn't shake the feeling that the tall guy sitting in front of me would tarnish my view of the stage.  When the diminutive, buttoned-up Sedaris took to the podium, I silently laughed at myself for worrying about missing a performance move.  He wasn't going anywhere, and we were there to listen.  And laugh.  It's been awhile since my head flew back and I cackled about fatty tumors, Irish setters having sex, or a reheaded "Crazy Mutha Focka" with corn rows.  For those of you (if you're reading this, how could you let me down like this) who haven't cracked open a piece of David Sedaris literature, yes, some of the humor is surprisingly lowbrow.  Lowbrow, modern, liberal humor, tied up with a carnation pink Windsor knot.  

The fact that David Sedaris can so harshly judge an altruistic Holiday Inn clerk for having a messy car, then 15 minutes later admit he did a charity gig for some "fucked up kids," is so human, and real, I just want to squeeze him.  His story about the crochety neighbor in When You Are Engulfed In Flames is one such instance of contradiction.  He simultaneously hates and loves this shitty neighbor, and as a reader, I came close to tears from laughter and sadness over the course of 5 pages.  

Mr. Sedaris read to us a selection of essays, diary entries, and stories from his yet unreleased Bestiary.  The philosophical views of lab rats, the ennui of married dog life, and an in-depth look at air travel from security checkpoint to complimentary beverage - just a few of the subjects he masterfully narrated to a loving audience.  He wrapped up the evening with a brief Q&A, and recommending a book, Tim Johnston's Irish Girl, which I can't wait to be creeped out by.  

We topped off the evening with fancy coffees and sandwiches at the Artist's Cafe.  The respectable, bejeweled, public radio-listening patrons in the cafe had also been at the show.  With their indoor voices, none of the conversations included the phrase "Crazy Mutha Focka," but just like us, I know they were all thinking it.  

Finally Got My Wings

Last night I shared the stage with one of the coolest bands in the city, The Honeybees.  A last-minute benefit left them without a backup singer, and since I knew a few songs from my audition last year, the lead singer, Barb, hit me with an email.  If it'd been more than a half-hour gig, I would've been a little nervous, but still wouldn't have passed this chance.  

After a full day of the ol' day job, and my big debut as a designer in a fashion/art studio opening in Pilsen, I made my way to the Cobra Lounge for this half-hour rockabilly set.  Long day.   Barb had told me it was a punk bar, and asked if I had something punk/retro to wear.  Aside from black nail polish, I'm about as un-punk as they come, so I went full retro with pearls and a French twist.  When I walked into the Cobra Lounge, my teeny tattoos dropped to their knees and worshipped at this altar of full sleeves and teardrops.  My happy harmonizer vocal cords quaked with every gutteral screech from the preceding thrash band.  But I felt 100% comfortable.  The patrons were friendly, and the sound guy even let me place my Flip Video Cam on his plexiglass (possibly bulletproof) partition.  "Cheat" is my favorite song from their catalogue, and I have a big fat role in the vocals, so check it out.  

The sweet set of Honeybees songs we performed may not have broken any glass, but when we sang "Be My Baby," I spied a dude tattooed up to his neck, smiling and bobbing his head like a schoolgirl.  At the close of the show, Barb handed me a bracelet in thanks.  Her friend in Las Vegas crafts these handstrung bangles with alphabet beads.  Mine reads "Boozer."

Thanks for a great night, Honeybees!!

For The Love of Concerts

It was tough, but I pulled the memories of 50 concerts I've seen. I guess I don't go to enough concerts, because I had to dig pretty deep to get this list together. Lists tend to bore me a little unless there is a nugget of information included. I will list 50 concerts and a fact about each. And I tried my best to list the order in which I saw them.

1. Ronnie Milsap - I was about four. Mom says I fell asleep and Ronnie Milsap kissed me on the forehead at the end of the concert.

2. Cyndi Lauper - Saw her once when I was 8, once when I was 28, and once again at 31.

3. Huey Lewis - 5th grade. I screamed so loud, the guy next to us plugged his ear.

4. Faith No More - 9th grade, Mike Patton suggested the audience "Jerk. Off. To. The beat," and my stepfather was horrified.

5. Robert Plant - Same concert as above. I had absolutely no appreciation for the rock royalty I was witnessing.

6. Nelson - Had tickets, but the show got cancelled. I was so ready for this concert, I feel like I saw it.

7. Deep Blue Something - College. I had a broken foot, and wanted so badly to go see them sing "Breakfast at Tiffany's." I started to limp out after that song, as did several other audience members. DBS turned the lights on and reprimanded the exiters, calling us Hootie and the Blowfish fans.

8. Robert Earl Keen - Age 19, at a 21 and up concert in a small bar in Santa Fe. Stepdad had to sign a waiver, but ordered me a rum and coke when we got to the table.

9. Eagles - Again, had tickets, but concert was cancelled. When the Eagles rescheduled months later, I listened to the show on the grassy field outside the NMSU football field.

10. Ian Moore - Opening act for the following two. They were out of tune, but I still love them.

11. Bryan Adams - Honestly, one of the tightest bands I've ever seen. Surprisingly, when Bryan sang, "Got my first real six string---------" very few people in the audience could finish the line for him.

12. Rolling Stones - And finally, the headliner. This was the VooDoo Lounge tour, and it was great, but I was really unfamiliar with their music before this.

13. Harry Connick, Jr. - Harry invited a male audience member to dance on the stage with him. The crowd went crazy, and Harry decided to let about 20 other people up there, too.

14. The Monkees - Mom took me to see them in Las Vegas, where I got an autographed novelette signed by Micky, Davy, and Peter. Then I saw them again in Las Cruces, when they performed for the Miss Teen USA Pageant.

15. Brian Setzer at Conan O'Brien taping - In line for Conan in 1996, we overheard that there was a former member of "Cats" on the list. When we sat down to watch, much to my surprise, I saw an obscenely plaid jacket backstage. I knew at that moment, we had heard the tail end of a rumor gone wrong.

16. Davy Jones/Bobby Sherman - Diablo stadium. I touched Davy's hand.

17. Fleetwood Mac - 1997, Houston, with my brother. Chris scored the tickets secondhand by telling a guy that his little sister played "Landslide."

18. Willie Nelson - Sandia Casino with Mom. He played EVERYTHING with no stops in between. His little sister banged away on the piano, and her long tresses obscured her face thoroughly.

19. Liquid Cheese - Great local ska band in Las Cruces. You cannot help but dance the whole night.

20. Arrogant Sons of Bitches - I think these guys opened for Liquid Cheese at El Patio? They were fun, and played a Radiohead cover that was totally rad.

21. Ten Tenors - no, not three, TEN! - Donnie, Megan and I (and possibly a few others I can't remember) went to see this Australian group in El Paso. They went from Puccini to the BeeGees seamlessly.

22. Bob Schneider - Ashlee forced me to go see this guy at Schuba's. I wasn't interested. Until the moment he stepped onstage. Possibly the quickest I've ever fallen in love with a performer. Ask Ashlee to do her impression of me dancing, looking over my shoulder, and smiling at her the first time I saw Bob. Subsequently saw him at Martyr's, Double Door, and the Metro.

23. Jason Mraz - In 2003, Donnie called to tell me Jason Mraz would be performing near him in Cleveland. I happened to have a couple days off. I jumped in the car and drove alone from Chicago. Jason was magical, although his audience, I could have lived without.

24. Raul Midon - One of Jason Mraz's openers. Blind R&B guitarist/singer. We waited outside the concert to meet Jason, and after about 20 minutes, here walks Raul with his assistant. He had mentioned that he was from New Mexico during the concert, and we shared our New Mexicanness with him. He stood and sweetly talked to us for a long time. Jason never came out, but we didn't care.

25. Ben Lehl Band - Hot Cakes. That's all I have to say.

26. Lyle Lovett and his Large Band - 2004, Marky came to visit me in Chicago. Jonathan, Ashlee, Marky, and I sat in the grass at Ravinia for Lyle. I got my first chigger.

27. The Roots - Rieckelman and I drove 1 1/2 hours in the torrential rain to Milwaukee to see Summerfest. We stood on the bleachers, and the rain was so bad it was like taking a shower. That's probably why the guy next to me got completely naked.

28. JC Chasez - 2004, Isaac came to visit Chicago, and we saw JC at the House of Blues. JC, screwed up the words to "Dear Goodbye," blaming it on his mom's presence in the audience. It was adorable.

29. Maroon 5 - Adam Levine traded places with the drummer, and they performed "Highway to Hell."

30. John Mayer - Headliner for Maroon 5. Stage lighting so beautiful, I wanted to cry. Chum Chums smuggled a cigarette into the Pan Am and shared it with me.

31. Gogol Bordello - Bar none, the worst show I've ever been to. Don't lay a trip on me. It SUCKED. We walked out after one song.

32. Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise - Robert Bradley is a dirty old man. First show I ever saw at the Double Door.

33. Joseph Arthur - Got to the concert VERY late--only heard the last song. Second show I saw at the Double Door.

34. Persistance - 2005, Andy's Jazz Club. Before I joined the band.

35. Etta James - Ravinia. She doesn't have the chops she used to, but it was great to hear her live.

36. Tom Jones - When Tom Jones walked out on the stage after Etta, the place got a little hotter. He was solid as a rock.

37. Linda Eder - Did you know that people walk up and put quarters on the stage throughout her show?

38. Bernadette Peters - Bernie's husband died just days before this show. I don't know how she got through "Being Alive" without collapsing.

39. Everyday People - A friend at work turned Kelly and me on to this Austin band. "I'm a regular nine to fiver, a coffee and cream survivor." That's us!

40. Rodriguez - Sheppy and I saw this show on October 28th, 2006 at the Sav-Mor Lounge. They played the entire Thriller album.

41. The Swell Season - This was the first time I had fun after Marky got sick. I felt simultaneously guilty and exhilarated. It was like going to church. I lost my nerve when Glen Hansard asked the audience if someone would be willing to come on stage to help him sing the song from "Once." I'll never forgive myself for passing up that oportunity. Glen is far and away the most gracious performer I've ever witnessed. He said "Thank you," probably 43 times.

42. Jamburglars - Chum Chums and I saw the tail end of Danny and Scott's band at El Patio after seeing "Enron: The Musical" at NMSU.

43. Mike Doughty - 2007, Marky and I sat in the upper level of the Vic and enjoyed being adults. "Fort Hood" is really great live.

44. Tegan and Sara - Their music has never made much of an impression on me, but their banter is hilarious. One of them admitted she had diarrhea for an entire year.

45. B-52's - A main attraction at the True Colors tour. They did all the favorites, and Kate sounds and looks great.

46. Bumpus - Matt suggested I see this band for the backup singers. I told Kelly, and she jumped at the opportunity. We saw them at Martyr's, and I can't wait to see them again. I talked to one of the backup singers after the show, and got completely starstruck. Kelly had to talk for me.

47. Tina Turner - FINALLY, MY IDOL!!! United Center, October 2008. I bought tickets for me and mom as a surprise. Chris and Monica got tickets for me as a surprise. Oops! We all went together and successfully scalped one of the extra two tix. Tina was outstanding. I cried through the first four songs, and was thankful no one saw.

48. Liza Minnelli - I finally saw Liza at the Venue in Horseshoe Casino in Hammond, Indiana. She is masterful at phrasing. And she sat on a stool for most of the performance, wearing a headband.

49.Elton John - My first time at Wrigley Field. Won the tickets at a karaoke contest (I was the only contestant, so I never actually had to sing anything). His sunglasses were very demure, with a simple rhinestoned "EJ" on each lens.

50.Billy Joel - Same concert as above. I fell in love with "Zanzibar" this night. Billy swatted at flies all night like a lunatic. He was one of the most engaging performers I've seen. He let his roadie sing "Highway to Hell." Deja vu.

Thank you, Old Fart. Thank you Judy.

Last night I had the opportunity to grace the stage of one of the highest class establishments in Chicagoland.  In an effort to protect its anonymity, I'll call it "Feet Smeller's."  Also dubbed "The Cougar's Den" and "Blowjob Palace," Feet Smeller's boasts the allure of a frat party and the charm of a pig's slop trough.  Probably responsible for 85% of drunk driving accidents in the greater Wheeling area, Feet Smeller's has never let me down when I really need to see vomit splashed tenderly upon at least two of the 4 ladies' johns.  But enough about the fabulous venue.  Let's get to the patrons.  

We finished our first set without much issue.  Business has been slow since the economic downturn, and the cougars have moved on to greener plains.  Freakonomically speaking, it makes me wonder if people are so strapped for cash that in addition to drinking a few less lattes a week, middle aged women are cutting down on seeking extramarital relations.  Body glitter is a major expense.  Anyway, I chatted with the band, ate some dinner, kept to myself for the most part.  Then the second set.  I should really learn not to leave my seat.  But a girl's gotta get to the bathroom.  As I briskly walked to the back room, I heard someone grunting, "Hey.  Hey.  Miss.  Hey."

I usually ignore people.  I hate to admit it, but if the best you can come up with is, "Hey," I'll probably pretend I have a hearing problem.  But the voice persisted, and a female voice joined in.

"Miss?  Hello?"  So I turned my head.  A nice-enough looking elderly couple sat in the back corner, and they waved me over.  Upon my approach, they both started talking.  The gentleman started.

"We've seen you before," the lady said.

"Oh, really?"  Always be nice to returning patrons.  "Thanks for coming to see us.  Where did you see us before?

The gentleman replied, "Oh, it was Tommy Pescorelli."

Was that any kind of answer?  "Oh, where was that?"

"It was Athens, Georgia," he confidently answered.  

Ok, I really had to pee, and this conversation was going to have to end soon.  "Oh, that wasn't me.  I've never been to Georg---"

"It was twenty years ago," the lady interjected.  "Tommy's son."  I shook my head and began to turn to leave, trying not to make the poor drunk lady feel badly for calling me old.  "No!  It was La Cave!"  

"Oh," I gave in. "I have played there.  Tommy was the owner?"

"No," the man argued, "he's just a friend.  You played there.  You wore a white dress.  Or a yellow dress."  He seemed very sure of himself, but I had finally found my exit.

"Well, I always wear black," and just as this useless conversation was about to come to a neutral end, it took the turn I should have taken seconds earlier.

"Because of your weight?"  

At that moment, I turned on my heel and resumed my brisk walk to the vomitorium.  Seriously?  What did I do to deserve that question?  When we started the third set, I couldn't help but feel some resentment toward the entire crowd.  The Feet Smeller's diners are some of the lamest on earth, and this is far from an isolated incident.  For the first song, I really wanted to make a snarky dedication to the couple in the back, but they were already gone.  And that's what really eats me.  I didn't get the last word.  Through the rest of the evening, I dreamed up great comebacks for that comment.  Here are some ideas:

1. "Well, your fatass wife is wearing white, and she's cool.  I mean, you can hardly detect the Depends through her elastic track suit pants."  

2.  "I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but that would be impossible since the E.D. probably got the better of you around age 80."  

3.  Spill a drink in his lap.  It wouldn't matter if it was hot or cold, because the Depends would protect him from any real harm.  

4.  "You'll have to excuse me, the smell of Ben Gay is making my nauseous, and you better catch that bus back to the home so you don't miss Matlock."

5.  "Thank you for keeping my ego in check"

 Rather than wallow, I grabbed a bottle of Riesling on the way home, and popped in Judy Garland Live at the Palladium.  This was one of the first (if not the very first) times Liza sang with her mom on stage.  Little Liza sang, fought off Judy's attempts to grab her mic, stroked her mother's hair, and ruled the entire show.  Those two were masterful at portraying modesty and graciousness.  I wish I could pretend like them.  

About halfway through this post-hepatitis croakfest, the boys in the audience start yelling, "I love you!"  Judy returned the affection happily.  

Then they made the request.  The request she hated.  

Who wouldn't be sick of Dorothy?  She had made so much music in her short life, but all they wanted was to hear "Rainbow."  This shell of Judy had also been utterly upstaged by her teenage daughter.  She sweetly protested.   When more requests flew at her, she sharply assured them it was on its way, knowing the hit was last on the set list.  If you ever have the chance to watch this concert, don't listen to the words she's saying, just listen to her tone and watch her body language.  Then try to imagine what she's really saying inside.  It's a good thing she didn't bring a gun to that performance.  

After the duets, it was time.  Judy looked for her favorite audience member.  "Liza?  Liza, will you come out here?  Just sit here in front."  Liza dutifully sits cross-legged in front of her mother and adores her.  I think Judy sang about 2 1/2 words before beckoning the crowd to sing along.  She tells Liza to sing, too, but Liza was smarter.  She silently stared at her mama, beaming, holding her hand.  And the audience did all the work.  It was beautiful.