Saturday, May 13, 2006

Spring Report

The last two weeks have seen an explosion of green leaves on the trees, and the subsequent disappearance of long views and open woods. For me, this means a subtle change in thought patterns-- and a return to yearning for big waters: lake and ocean shorelines.
Last week, on a rainy- day trip to Boston, I played Robin my new song album HORIZON IS A SONG all the way through. Her comments afterward helped me realize that it is, indeed, finished. She got completely the radio conceit-- the sense of sonic variety, as she said, "just pulled from the air." So now it sits on the shelf while I let my brain churn away at ideas for the cover art.
As for the abstract sound-art project BETWEEN WATERS, its energy has subsided for a while-- you might say the lake level is down. There is one final movement/piece that needs to be composed and realized, but I'm just not hearing it right now, and attempts to force it have not worked. Perhaps some time on the water is in order?

Plenty of gigging with Rusty Romance. A couple of weeks ago we played a Birthday party at the Waterbury Center Grange Hall that has to rank as one of the greatest gigs I've ever been part of. A wonderful, fun-loving-- and discriminating!-- audience drew deep and engaged performances from us all. And the Grange was such a great setting, with its big stage, weird ritual thrones, and walls full of yellowed clippings. (Including the Times-Argus obituary of the great Vermont country-swing fiddler Don Fields of Pony Boys fame.)

I've also sat in a few times recently on steel guitar with Mark Legrand's new rockabilly-honky tonk trio, the Lovesick Bandits , in residency Friday evenings at Langdon Street Cafe in Montpelier. A great trio-- with my Rusty bandmate the majestic Dan Haley on guitar, rock-steady Mr. Noah Hahn on stand-up bass, and Mr. LeGrand himself on acoustic guitar and heartsick lead vocals. Lots of fun!

That's music. As for words, well, a few days ago I was out on a trail run when something happened: There arrived in my consciousness the first sentence of my next novel. I've been carrying around a little bundle of index cards scrawled with snippets of character studies and plot ideas for this book since last September. Now I've a place to begin. But that is, of course, literally another story.