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Old Journal Entries

October 2003

Okay, there have been massive fecal flingings because of my lack of updates here. So I've promised myself to change my habits and keep on this thing. So here's a little back track before we get up to speed.

The Oglala Commemoration
June 26, 1975 was the date of the "Incident At Oglala," the firefight that put Leonard Peltier in prison for two consecutive life sentences. And this summer was the 4th annual observation of that event. They had wanted me out there last year but it fell through on my part so this year was a must. I flew out on the 25th and came back on the 28th. It was wonderful.

Robert Quiver met me at the Rapid City airport at just about noon on the 25th. I was operating on about 2 and a half hours sleep but I'm used to that. We headed out of Rapid for Pine Ridge. Last time I was out in these parts was a couple of years back in November when I took the trip with Vince Herman of Leftover Salmon. Vince, his wife Kim, and their little son Silas, who fell in love with a puppy and convinced his parents to let him have it, bringing it all the way back to the Colorado mountains and naming it Jim Page. Yes, "Jim Page," you got a problem with that? I spent a lot of time then riding around the reservation with Robert Quiver, and on the last day, as it was getting dark and we were heading back from Rapid City, Robert said to me, "I used to wear glasses." He had been driving the whole time. It's a story I've told many times. This time I noticed that he had new glasses, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

It's big country out there, the wind is real long, taking a thousand miles to get to you. And it's got grain in it, food from the land that it blows over. I think you could live on the wind if you had to. The hills are rolling and endless, green with trees. I had to see into the distance and let it roll over me, to stand out in the wind and eat. You can't just go all that distance to somewhere and not take it in. One of the problems with flying is that the distances seem to disappear. I'm not saying it's bad to be able to travel in less time, but when so much geography is between one place and another, so much history of nature, so many stories, I think we need to slow down and give honor to the depth. So I stood outside in the wind for a while. I had to.

Then some of us headed out to the place on the edge of the badlands where Anna Mae's body was found. Anna Mae Aquash, assassinated in February of 1976, still mysterious, still nagging like a thorn in the side of the beauty of this place. So we told stories, we were silent, we offered tobacco, and we set it into ourselves that this was the place of a deep event. And events leave their mark on things. You have to acknowledge that.

They had me out in a motel in Nebraska. To get there you have to go through the little town of White Clay. White Clay has a stated population of 14. It consists of two liquor stores and a grocery store that sells liquor. There's also something that looks like an auto parts store but its too beat up to be able to tell. The stores have iron bars and steel mesh on the windows and doors. It looks like they expect to be raided by angry mobs. The predominant color is gray and there always seem to be number of damaged natives hanging around, waiting for the stores to open or for someone to give them the money they need. For a town of 14 the net income is astronomical, somewhere between two and three million dollars, all coming from alcohol sales to reservation Indians. Pine Ridge is dry, White Clay is not. It is the closest thing to a killing factory I have ever seen.

Next day the event itself took place. It began with a gathering at the cemetery where Anna Mae is buried, along with Joe Killsright Stunts. A couple of hundred people gathered and then began the walk a mile or so down the road to the Jumping Bull property. This is where the events of 1975 took place. There was food and a give away for the kids. John Trudell was in the area and he said a few words. We gave honor to the memory of Nilak Butler who had passed away a few months earlier. Nilak was a friend of mine and I had not been able to attend the funeral so it was good to be there for this. Goodbye Nilak.

The evening's event took place in a high school gym. There were about a dozen acts on the program, including a young rap duo called Indian Era, a solo rapper called Storm, and at the end, my favorite, a Lakota rock band called Steel River. No lie, they are as good as Los Lobos, clean, solid players. Of course if you don't like Los Lobos then this won't mean much. Forget I brought it up…

I wound up back on the reservation the next day at KILI radio, hanging' out and flinging the feces with friends. Went into Rapid City later on to have dinner and spend the night at Bruce Ellison's house. Bruce is one of Peltier's original attorneys. Trudell was there, along with Winona La Duke (former vice presidential candidate…), Fay Brown, and Barry Bachrach, with his son Ryan. Barry is an attorney. He's new to the Peltier story but he's full of energy and righteous indignation. I went with Barry and Ryan out to the airport the next day and we got to hang out a bunch. They are good people and things look possible when they are around. Leonard Peltier has been inside now for 26 years. Too long if you ask me….

……

Oregon Country Fair in July. The finest gathering of non linear humanity on the planet. Always good to go. Always exhausting, always worth it.

……

Played Bumbershoot this year. The organizers had contacted me and Artis the Spoonman to ask if we would help out with the new Busker Stage. Busking is, of course, the wonderful art of street performing. People seem to either love it or not know what to do with it. Festival organizers usually hate it because many of the buskers are better than the acts they've booked. It must be frustrating when some flamboyant fire juggler on a unicycle gets more applause then the rock star in the arena. Oh well… But Bumbershoot is put together by a team of people headed by a guy who was a busker at one time. So there's an understanding there. So Artis and I booked the stage. It was a lot of work but I think we did a pretty good job. And when the big weekend came, with headliners like REM, it was the Busker Stage that everybody wanted to write about. All the TV and radio, the news paper people, they all came out to encounter the strange new phenomenon. This was only the first year. 2003 was making history. 2004, there will be more.

…….

So this is the end of the longest continuous stretch of dry heat weather I have ever seen up here. It was driving me crazy until I got my bicycle overhauled. Then things got better. And now I'll have the rain to deal with when it comes, as it will any time now. I'm beginning a new CD project called Seattle Songs. Over the years I've written a batch of songs about this wonderful place. Katy helped me apply for a grant to do the project and I got accepted. Some songs are already recorded. Some will be recorded new at Kearney Barton's studio. What better place? Kearney is responsible for the "Seattle Sound" that got famous in the 60's. The Kingsmen, Paul Revere, they all recorded at Kearney's. And he's good too. He's got those wonderful old Neuman microphones.

A note on the Seattle Songs CD. Should be out in December in time for the holidays. For those of us who don't have a great deity in the sky who sends his children down every once in a while to play with our heads, we have the solstice to celebrate. I mean almost anything will do as an excuse to kick out the jams, right? So sometime in December there will be a CD release gig, probably at the Tractor Tavern in Ballard though I can't promise that. I would love to get away from bars anyway. Why is music always age exclusive? What are we trying to hide from our children?

I am in Boulder Colorado right now. Hang out a bit, play at a Ward Churchill's Class at the University. And participate in the Four Directions Walk, a sensible alternative to Columbus Day. Why bother with Columbus? Do a little digging and you'll find out. He was not a nice guy, it was not the way they told us in school. And we owe it to ourselves to deconstruct the mythologies and replace them with something better. That's what this is all about…

June 2003

Alright, I know, it's been a long time and I said I was going to update this on a regular basis. So much for my sense of time. It's not that there hasn't been a lot going on. The Irish tour last fall was excellent, a whole month's worth of gigs, all booked by a wonderful character named Martin Egan. Martin is a song writer and knows what a person needs on the road. Well done! Christy Moore showed up for the last gig, along with Val, his wife of all these years. It was great to see him again and to reconnect on a real level. He called me the next day with the idea of us doing a gig together where we both sit on stage at the same time and trade songs. More on that later.

The plane ride home was long and airless as usual, leaving me dry and hollowed out. I developed a sore throat which quickly turned into laryngitis. I'd never had it before and had always considered it to be a joke. But the joke was on me - man, that's no fun! I had to cancel two gigs and croak out the third.

Time went by… Operation Recreate The World In Our Image was heating up and so was the resistance. Massive demonstrations were hitting the streets everywhere. I did a real interesting gig in Bremerton, which is a naval shipyard. A bunch of peace activists had gotten together to create an event where people from all over the region would converge in the city park on that day and form the shape of a peace sign. Then a photographer would climb up a tall ladder and take a photograph. This would be turned into a postcard and sent around as living proof of the people's intentions. It was a good thing to do.

Time passed again… George started to really build up the GoGet'Em rhetoric and things were getting ugly out there. I was telling myself and everybody else that they weren't going to do it, they weren't going to go into Iraq. Not after all that opposition, all that public outcry. Even the New York Times said, "There are still two super powers left in the world, America and world popular opinion." I was so sure. I had a California tour coming up in March, with a little break at the beginning to go to Nashville.

Nashville! Now there's a name. What's Nashville like? I would soon find out… I've got a friend who does music production all over the world and he had an idea that involved me and Nashville. Okay, I'm ready! So I played in Eugene on the 7th and drove down to the Bay Area the next day. On the 9th I flew out to Nashville. Next day I was in the Sony studios with some of the best session players around, and I'm serious! I mean, these people leave smoke behind themselves when they play. And easy, so easy to work with. It was amazing, we did 13 tracks in 11 hours, which is totally ridiculous, but that's what we did. And all the while I was thinking of that old song about "Nashville Cats," and I'm thinking everything they said was true. This place is amazing…

Then… back to California to pick up the tour. Everybody's on edge, you can feel it because Bush isn't backing down, Powell is being the good General Lap Dog that he is, and all the rifles seem to be aimed at catastrophe. I remember when it started on the 19th, I was playing a gig that night at Espresso Garden Café and people in Baghdad were getting blown to bits. It was a strange feeling. Leftover Salmon played the Great American in San Francisco and I got up to do When Johnny Comes Marching Home. The usual happy crowd was quiet for that one.

Katy came down to join me and we went back up the coast via Mendocino, Garberville, Arcata. Back in Seattle, it's a good old town, under all that Paul Allen glitter and Starbucks strut. Seattle.

So… Another tour, to Ireland again, with a little DC and Philadelphia thrown in at the beginning. The Cherry Tree in Philly with Chris Chandler and Anne Feeney, I was told that we were probably the last acts to play there. It's hard to keep the folk venues alive way out there. The DC gig was actually Takoma Park, part of a series. And if you've never been to Takoma Park in the spring time you need to go. One of the most beautiful places on earth. Anyway…

Off to Ireland again and no mercy this time. I arrive May 6th and I start playing on the 7th. Why hang around, I always say. Good gigs all around and Ireland is still my favorite other home. I have to admit that I lost it on the second day when I stopped for gas at a convenience store. While I was paying for the gas I noticed the magazine rack and saw something called "Victory In Iraq," or something like that. It was a thick glossy thing put out by the American propaganda forces to keep the myth going. Like I say, I lost it. I picked it up and showed it to the poor girl behind the counter. "Did you know that you guys were selling this here? This is pure American propaganda, war lies. Ireland is supposed to be neutral, why are you doing this?" And on, and on. I finally had the sense to leave. It is a problem though, and Ireland is supposed to be neutral.

But then, a week or so later I did a benefit for some people who had gone onto the air strip at Shannon and damaged an American war plane. The US has been using Shannon as a refueling stop, again breaking neutrality. And these brave people took it upon themselves to make a physical stand for their principals. For their efforts they are facing serious prison time. But they have my thanks, and the thanks of a lot of other people as well. Thank you. (See www.ploughsharesireland.org)

One of the gigs was in Belfast at a singers club. Belfast is a wonderful place, always has been. But it's so much more wonderful now that the political scene is moving. You can still see the guard towers on some of the hills, and the cop shop is still a fortress in the Falls, but Belfast is alive with possibilities now. My friend Maxi was there and I spent the night at his place. Maxi runs the Andersonstown School Of Traditional Music. As a part of the reconstruction, the school helps to get people in touch with their heritage. Music from under the thumb. And what can be more seditious than culture when seen through the eyes of the big thumb? Belfast. Expect great things.

Gigging back to Dublin through Portadown, a real good scene kept alive by Rodney Cordner. You find the best music and the best people in the places they tell you not to look. Here's to ya!

I'm skipping around here, I have to, I'll be here all day otherwise… The last gig was in Dublin at a place called Whelan's. Christy Moore had agreed to show up for this gig and he was going to bring Donal Lunny with him. We were going to play together. Cool! So we talked it over back stage and agreed that the best thing to do would be to create a set list of songs that would go back and forth - I would sing one, Christy would sing one, then me, then him, and so on. Donal would play with us both. We would be a trio. The first set was me solo, after all it was supposed to be my gig. But I was so psyched up about the second half that I made a mess of some of the tunes. Oh well, the spirit was there.

Then we all came out for the second half. The first song was Woody Guthrie's "Pastures Of Plenty," with me doing the singing, Christy playing bodhran and Donal on bazouki. Stunning… Then Christy sang Sacco and Vanzetti, and so it went back and forth. We finished with "Didn't We," my song about the WTO Seattle uprisings of 1999. Christy wants to learn this one, and I can't think of a better man to sing it. I remember the old days of Planxty and The Moving Hearts, when Christy would organize the big gigs at the stadium for the H-Blocks and the anti nuclear gigs. Christy's always there.

That was a great gig, let's do it again soon…

So I flew back just in time for the Northwest Folklife Festival. I got in Friday night and was on the grounds Saturday morning. I was never known for my intelligence… But Folklife is great and I wouldn't miss it. We did a workshop on the last day, Memorial Day, about the ancient folk art of busking. It was me, Jim Hinde, Artis the Spoonman, and Carolyn Cruso. It was an hour and a half and very fulfilling. The reason for having the panel was to create a conversation between the buskers, or street players if you like, and the festival staff, and the general public. Busking is always an awkward subject and is generally misunderstood. Some people thinking it's just begging. Many people think that buskers can't be very good or they would be in theaters making big bucks. The real spark of it, the heart of it, gets missed in all the fog. And the Foklife administration has been coming down kind of hard on the buskers over the past few years, so some of us thought this would be a good idea. And it was. Ever see a panel discussion get a standing ovation? Well, that's what we got…

My stage gig happened later. Billy Oskay played with me and we were the last ones on that particular stage so we got to stretch out a little. It felt great! Goodbye Folklife, just when I was starting to wake up it was over. Next day I just stared at the wall. And here I am.

Kick me if I don't write again soon.

November/December 2002

Okay, so I said this wasn't going to be as regular as it could be. An on-again, off-again sort of thing. Anyway, I've been on the road for almost six weeks now, I have two dates left in Ireland and then a couple of hangout days in Dublin before I go home. Everybody says "how do you like the rain" and I say "it's just like home, Seattle."

Anyway, all the gigs have been good. All except one, where I was expected to be an interesting character with a guitar over in the corner during and after-wedding drink fest. That was a mistake. But I decided long ago to never have a bad gig, so I made the best of it, passing the guitar around and singing when I could. I got in one fairly long improv about the whole affair and everybody came unglued. That made the night.

As for the rest, what can I say. Ireland is the finest country on the planet for a person like me. Folk music is understood for what it is: the music that comes from the community and goes back to the community. No bullshit (well, very little…) just good tunes. And the audiences are generous enough to allow people to develop in public, giving rise to an ever expanding pool of great players.

I was still jet lagged for the first few gigs, which can lead to some great performances. In Dublin it was a club called The Cobblestone, a wonderful human sized room with a soft darkness, great sound and all the rest. Then off to Nenagh, Wexford, and all around the place. Dana Lyons was in the country at the same time. He's a good songwriter guy from Bellingham, recently famous for Cows With Guns. (cowswithguns.com) In fact, he's having a hit with that song here at the moment and that's why he was over, traveling around doing radio and drop-in appearances. Dana's very friendly and good on stage so people liked him. We didn't get to hang out too much but we can do that later, this is for touring and getting into things.

It seems like everywhere you go people say it will only take two and a half hours to get there. Then five hours later you roll into town. I got good at taking naps. Not really sleeping but floating for an hour or so. In Nenagh a friend showed me a Famine grave yard, where he said a thousand people were buried. It's a hallowed place, you can feel the depth. They say that there was plenty of food in Ireland during those times, but the British government was taking it all. I'm told that Queen Victoria was asked to make a contribution to famine relief - she agreed but stipulated that in order to not be accused of favoritism she would give an equal amount to the dog and cat hospital. Thanks. At the same time, the Choctaw people in America, who had just gotten off of their Trail Of Tears, took up a collection of seven-hundred and ten dollars and sent it over. I guess that shows how much royalty is worth.

In Tullamore I got to hang out with Tony and Liz Holleran, old friends from the old days. Tony is a school teacher and guitar player and a real good singer and song writer. Together with his friend Dominic they are a duo called Far Tulla. Every Monday in Tullamore they go to a local pub and play music - no sound system, just sing like you mean it. Great fun. I played the next morning in Tony's class for a group of about 30 nine year olds, then hit the road.

Up in Belfast things aren't what they used to be. When I first got there in '79 there was a demilitarized zone in the city center where you went shopping. It was all fenced off and you had to go through security checks to get in (like we are doing now at the airports…). I remember going to a music store in those days, having my ID checked to get into the area, and then ringing the bell at the door to the store. They looked at me from inside and then hit the buzzer and the door opened. Now that's all gone. Now you just walk around as you please. And you rarely see soldiers. The police stations still look like forts - they are, in fact - but you don't see all the armored personnel carriers. The peace process broke down a few weeks ago over some flack about spying, but it'll get back on track. It reminds me of when Richard Nixon was trying to figure out a way of getting out of Vietnam without losing. "Defeat With Honor," that was his saying. And I think that's a lot of what's happening here. Some people just hate to lose…

Anyway, in West Belfast, in Andersonstown, there's the Andersonstown School Of Traditional And Contemporary Music. A wonderful affair, it's run by a friend of mine named Maxi, and his friend Valerie. Always on a shoe string, always looking for funding, they organize a lot of classes in the different instruments and disciplines. I didn't get to play there this time but I will next. Andy Town, it's the best. The music, the murals, the hands-on history of the place. Humanity, an incendiary evolution.

Back in Dublin a couple of nights ago, where I played at a place called Whelans. It's a great venue with great sound and a balcony. It was a special event, I guess. I was presented with an award for "thirty years of service to the anti-nuclear and environmental movements." The award was a beautiful hand carved wooden bowl, made from bog wood. Christy Moore was there with Val, his wife of all those years. It was wonderful to see them and was the main event of the night for me. Christy and I go way back. If you don't know, he's probably the best ballad singer on the planet. (ChristyMoore.com)

I found out while I've been here that the United States military has been using Shannon Airport here in Ireland for refueling. Shannon is a commercial runway, not military. There have been several major protests out there. Ireland has a supposed neutrality and this is definitely not neutral. Many people seem to be concerned that our president has gone psychotic and I have to agree with them. My country, America, has become very dangerous indeed.

The big thing coming up on a lot of people's agenda is the European Social Forum, which happens in Italy next week. The social forum is the "yes" side to the "no" of the anti-globalization actions. That is, where the actions say "we don't want this kind of world," the forums say "this is the kind of world we want." And that's the best news of all. International gatherings to map the future. Our future.

……much later… About a month later. I'll get into the habit of this eventually and then it'll really be smooth. For now take it as it comes. I've been home for a while, getting back into being "American." Culture shock is weird coming this way. The neighbor was out struggling with something one day, a big wooden filing cabinet that he had strapped to the roof of his car. We came out of the house just in time to see him there and he asked if we could help him take it down. "Sure, no problem." We got it down and then in through the fence onto his porch. I couldn't help but notice how awkward he was, embarrassed even, that we were helping him. Let's help you take it inside, we said. Oh no that's fine, more embarrassed. You sure? Yeah, I can take it from here. It probably weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. In Ireland there would have been no question and no problem. You just jump in and help out. Nobody's embarrassed, its no big deal. And you don't think about repayment. I felt sorry for my neighbor, and then I felt sorry for all of us.

So here we are, back in Bush's America. This is early December, and I was asked to play at a rally downtown today. It was a city-wide student walk out, in opposition the US war plans. High school students mostly, and they were great. The energy and the willingness to jump right in. I wish I'd had that kind of brains when I was their age. There was no sound system so I stood on top of a small wall and sang as loud as I could. Everybody listened, everybody understood. They are so much smarter than I was when I was that age.

Once I got out of high school in '67 I just started getting stoned a lot. Playing guitar and getting stoned. Things were happening up in Berkeley and in San Francisco, all over the country. The Vietnam war was going on, people were coming home in bits and pieces. But I didn't know anything. Now I feel like I'm looking into the alternate reality of myself. It looks good.

I almost said "they give me hope," but it's different than that. John Trudell used to talk about "hope." He used to say that only when there is no hope will something get done. I used to think that was a cynical thing to say, and maybe it is, but I agree. Hope is something you see out of the corner of your eye. Hope is waiting for Godot. Hope means you're not doing anything but maybe somebody else will. Hope means god will intervene if he feels like it. I'm told that hope was one of the objects in Pandora's Box. Hope is a lottery ticket.

I had a conversation with a friend about this a week or so ago. She was upset and wanted to have hope. I said I would never want to take that away from anybody, but to me it's about doing something. She asked me, well, what makes you get up in the morning if you have no hope? I said I'm really interested to see what happens. There's millions of us, all of us thinking and expanding, experimenting, stretching and scheming. I want to see what's going on. That's why I get up. And when I saw all those high school students downtown, I was glad I did.

My theory: the anti war movement is huge. The feelings of resistance to Bush and company are enormous. "They" don't want us to know how many we are. Very soon we will find out. Very soon.

October 2002

Blast off soon enough, up into those great high clouds. American Airlines. Now that's a name with a charge on it. I'm in Washington DC, the nation's capital, or at least that's what they call it. I suppose it's one of the capitals, the others being in Wall Street and the various Disneylands. And running through the whole thing is the Imperial Need, the unspoken jones for conquest that informs so much of our national behavior.

Here's a little test you can try out yourself. Next time you're at a party or hanging around with friends just pick a person at random and ask them, "How many people were killed in the Gulf War?" Nine times out of ten they'll say, "Oh, not very many, only a hundred or so." At which time you can remind them that Iraqis count as people too and you can watch them get embarrassed. And these are not bad people that you're asking, these are good people, as most people are. But even good people can be hypnotized and hypnosis takes a while to overcome.

Jim Hinde and I had just such an experience not too long ago at a restaurant in Seattle. Jim's a great singer and songwriter around town and he and I were asked to play a couple of songs to the clientele in the outside patio. We each sang something unflattering to the current administration and were challenged by a young fellow who looked for all practical purposes to be a football player on a night out. Jim's a Vietnam vet so he carries a bit more weight in certain circles. So we sat down with the football player guy and his friends and began talking. The subject was the "war on terror" and current US war plans. I asked him the question and he answered as predicted. The door was open now and things got interesting. Jim's a very patient speaker, and I can be too at times, so we talked with them for about an hour. When it was time to leave the football player got up and stuck his hand out to shake. "Thanks," he said, "that's the best conversation I've had in a long time."

I think people are more mysterious and hidden than they seem to be at first glance. For all the flags that you see around here I don't think there's that many people who would really tell you that it's okay to blow up children and wedding parties. You just have to get through that veneer.

Ireland coming up, gotta get packing. Chris Chandler is taking me to the airport. Chris is a wonderful spoken word artist and hopefully a good driver. I'll find out soon enough. My ticket says I'm flying out of "Reagan Airport" but most everybody around here refuses to call it that and sticks to the old National name. That's another good sign. I mean, who ever invented the idea that we're supposed to do what we're told, anyway? Somebody with a lust for power, that's who. I say do what's right no matter what they tell you. We're smart enough to know the difference…

…Later… I've been in Ireland for four days now. My new agent, Martin Egan, is a wonderful character, a great singer and song writer himself. With a good healthy disdain for the music business. The Industry. We never needed it and we don't need it now. It's on the run, from MP3s, from kids with home studios and computers, from tapers who trade live shows, from people like us. Mick Jagger and Keith Richard are on the cover of this month's Fortune Magazine. Rolling Stones, Inc. The article says that at nearly 60 Jagger may seem a bit old for a rock and roll star but that's just the right age for a CEO…

Anyway, Martin, the agent, has arranged for me to receive an award for "30 years of service to the environmental and anti nuclear movements." Not quite true, but it's happening anyway. It goes back to "Hiroshima-Nagasaki Russian Roulette," which I wrote back in 1974 and first sang here in '79. I remember very well. It was at the Ballisodare Folk Festival. I had been told that there was a real strong anti nuclear movement going and I figured if I could get that song heard maybe something would happen. It did. After Ballisodare I was invited down to the Carnsore Point Anti Nuclear Festival the next weekend. It was an amazing grass roots activist event of music, politics and culture. One unforgettable memory is of a group of people surrounding two plain clothes Special Branch cops, kind of like the FBI, and escorting them off the grounds, chanting, "Branch out! Branch out!"

Well, Christy Moore was there and he liked the song and started playing it. When he organized his new band, The Moving Hearts, they released it as a single and put it on an album that entered the charts at number 1. The song took on a life of its own after that and entered the folk culture. And now, 23 years later, there are windmills at Carnsore Point. Victory!

Anyway, things are only starting here. Played the Cobblestone last night. A bunch of radio interviews, etc, coming up. Have to get the rental car and get on the road soon. Martin gave me a cell phone to use so I can be reachable at all times.

So I'll keep this going as much as I can. Check back for more…

August 2002

Okay, so this is my journal. Not a diary or anything even so regular and dependable as a field report, but rather the on again off again observations of a long time traveling guitar player. Music gets you into things and that's what this is all about.

It took me forever to get this site up and running. I guess I was afraid of what it would lead to. But after a while I just got pissed off at my own pace, seeing everybody else get out there, and I figured it was time to jump in. See what sort of trouble I can get into…

Well let's see, I've got two CDs on the burner right now. One has already been out but now it's got a new cover and layout. Music From Big Red, with Billy Oskay and Mark Ettinger. I think it's real cool, big fat sound with acoustic bass and violin. The WTO song's on that one. The other CD is a compilation, a temporary retrospective. It's called Human Interesting and it was the most difficult project I've ever done. My friend Bonnie started pushing me to do it. I would try to ignore it but she would keep asking, "How's it going?" So I asked Billy and he was enthusiastic too. Billy's got a studio and we went to work there. I gathered up a bunch of old tapes and DAT recordings. Everything I could find. I thought we could put a bunch of live stuff together with out-takes and studio tracks. Make it real thick.

Ever listen to yourself after the years have gone by? It can be real embarrassing. It's like they always say about jokes and funny stories - you had to be there. A lot of that stuff I brought down just didn't cut it. But we worked and worked and listened and made up practice orders to listen to. I still kept trying to avoid it. But now Billy was on my case. There was no peace.

Finally we got it done and we sent it off to the mastering plant in San Francisco. Or rather, Billy and I flew down with it all. We spent two days is a little closet with a bunch of electronic gear and no sleep. But it was worth it, I think.

Now I have to get both of them out in time for the Country Fair. The Oregon Country Fair. I play it every year. It's probably the best party on the face of the planet…

So I have to get this running and see what happens. Life's too short to waste around and fidget. You gotta jump in with both hands.

One more thing. I just got a new guitar - new for me anyway. Chris Ramey gave it to me. He's on the links page, check him out. Chris was one of my early heroes way back in the California days. Nobody plays like that anymore. No music school, just the real thing. The music breathes and moves to its own time. Anyway, Chris has gotten into buying and selling older guitars. Epiphones and Gibsons mostly. And the guitar that he gave me is the guitar that I used to play all those many years ago, only better. A 1965 Epiphone Texan, sunburst. It's got the neck that you love to play and the tone that you can't say no to. If god was a guitar player, that would be the ax.