Of Worms and Men The Journal continues…..

Is it my imagination or is it just the time of year, it has rained for the last 10 daze straight, the grey sky allowed only momentary sun breaks which almost reached biblical proportions in their contrast. In the word of the last song of Robert Altman’s “Nashville” ….it don’t bother me!
I have reached new Zen heights in my yard work even borrowing a ladder and a handy Korean hand saw to practically take down a mid sized Alder tree, Bonsai a couple of bushes and debranch a row of Blue Spruce. I still have several large trees that need to be removed but I will gladly let a professional ($1000) take care of that.
Where I have painstakingly brought in loads of new dirt, hand sifted from the edging material from all over the yard to build up the front area, reseeded it and fertilized it and let the rain bring it to life…………..has turn out to be the private recreation area for the local Mole population, they have set up Condos and no doubt an underground Pool area with chaise lounges and Badminton. Large humps of rich soil bubble up effortlessly in the most pastoral green fresh new growth. This rich plankton is full of worms that I personally and lovingly placed there as part of the new worm relocation plan that I have been participating in. I have dealt with these simple and apparently happy hairy creatures for as long as I have lived here and though I generally recognized the earth to be hard and rocky, these guys can only see the positive in everything. I also have come to grips with the fact that they can have the back yard all they want, but now have returned to the very front of my domain, making their mark in a very obvious way for all the world to see.

The music…………maybe you would like to hear about it. I am writing again, everyday, I love the process though as in everything in life the hardest part is “getting started”! But I have, and I am intrigued by the results. Every Wednesday I meet up with my local jam unit, W.D., Brian and Skip and we Jam out the arrangement possibilities and work out difficult passages that I have inadvertently written. We just run these songs through the paces and whittle them down to an Ear friendly length, change keys, tempos, work out bass lines and have fun with it. Sometimes we even realize how Krappy the piece was in the first place and edit it into oblivion.
The gig’s are fun too, I especially enjoy my work with Dale the Coyote on the Keyboards, we are jamming and grooving up a storm. In the cover world of these local bars and clubs where the audience is used to musical renditions that are recognizable as the original song, we get away with total freak versions, bastardized arrangements and downright irreverent takes of their favorite songs.
And, Boy is it fun.

I am beginning to realize that 4 and ½ months back home is going to fly by like a blink of an Eye, especially compared to the same amount of time on the road this summer, so I will make use of every moment, except when I vegetate in front of the Boob Tube, and work real hard and have a new project ready to record in Europe.

Love to all of you

Back Home Again

Hello again and welcome back to the fast track of my life and career as I fill you in with the ins and outs of the daily grind of singer/songwriting troubadour string surfing 12 string addict home owner fellow commuter gardener handyman cook and the ultimate survivor of economic upheaval and financial turmoil and all that goes with keeping one step ahead of the sheriff and his posse.

Though it is hardly as dramatic as described above I am an artist of life and I realize that more than ever when I return home from a long four and one half month tour to this beautiful home nestles in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains up a dead-end street off on the upper cul-de-sac of Pellerin Road. This humble split level wood stick construction with about an acre of park like trees and bushes, bamboo and ferns, lawn and rock gardens, stone walls and wisteria has been my home for 27 years, where I raised a beautiful boy and had a challenging marriage, both of which are long gone. My son, Thomas was killed in a horrible accident in 1999 and Anne partied her way out of my life years before that. But still I keep very fond memories of them both from those years, especially those ten years where I was the primary parent and took loving care of our boy through the early part of his short life, school, sports and many trips to Europe to see his Grandparents. Being a working musician for over 40 years has worked out perfectly in this endeavor since I would be home all day of him and head for the gigs when he went off to bed. We toured together for many years before he started school and in the summer we would find ourselves in the coolest places all over Europe where we enjoyed the food and people of many cultures. Thomas thrived in this diversified world of global stimuli and grew to be a tolerant and kind young man. I remember him always taking up the cause of the underdog and helping his fellow school buddies who were less fortunate, seeing the good in every one, especially stray dogs. Boy, did he love animals and aspired to be a vet.

But dreams and hopes for the future can come to a crashing halt as it did for all of us on that horrible morning of January 9th in 1999.

I have lived in my own private hell for these many sad years, waking every morning to the realization that this loving human, who I loved more than anything in this entire world is gone forever. Words will never describe the depths that my soul wallowed in and the utter despair that I still feel today. Time heals nothing……but work does.

One of the main reasons I tour Europe relentlessly, this year 135 days and 94 gigs, is because in this activity and work I have the illusion of relief. A small break from the constant reality of loss. By traveling relentlessly and gigging in extreme amounts, I put on over 12 thousand miles this summer, I not only work off an immense debt load that I accumulate from recording and home improvements, I also receive small respites from this dark cloud of pain and loss that I constantly feel. The sheer overwhelming work load allows me moments of actually not letting this hurt surface for a while. I have found that the relief of these breaks are worth the work overload.

Besides I get a lot of writing in during these travels, I play so much guitar that I return home as a monster of the 12, not quite the string surfer that I was at the peak of my abilities in the middle 90’s but I feel myself evolving as a mature voice and artist of this instrument. It is a great feeling to know that you are not standing still in your craft.

My interest in writing is the reason I keep this journal and the revelations therein are based on my need to come clean and reveal the true feelings and background of the inner workings of my life. Thank you for letting me share this with you and I hope that your understanding and interest in me as a musician and human being is enhanced by this candidness.

The Glam and the Mundane

Hopping off the plane in Seattle is not as glamorous as on may expect, first the immigration and custom riggarmaroll is as humiliating as trying to cross the borders into Bulgaria in the 60’s. Then on the tarmac I am greeted by Thor, my faithful house sitter and sidekick in hiking, rockwork and beer swilling, drives up in a dilapidated pick up truck instead of my classy soccer mom mini-van and informs me that a cloud of smoke and horrendous noise emanated from my hood and that the vehicle was doomed. Seattle traffic has become worse in my absence and the growth of the SUV phenomenon has turn 405 into a giant swap meet.
@ home my mail reveals that my health insurance has been cancelled and a pool of liquid in back yard indicates that the septic system is defect. And those are only the highlights, but I will not bore you with any more details of this nature, after all you are under the impression that I am a big recording artist and I do not have to deal with these mundane day to day setbacks personally. Suffice to say the first three weeks of my return were entirely dedicated to stabilizing the home front and getting back on track, which entailed digging a 20 foot long, 4 foot deep ditch, weeding and edging the yard, cutting back shrub’s and trees, clipping hedges, getting my car through a failed emission test and putting on a new license plate with 007 on it, telephoning and negotiating the rest of my gig schedule for the northwest area and enjoying the comforts of this groovey house.

So, for all of the above reasons I was not able to keep up this journal, though that is a flimsy excuse because in all matters of writing it is just a matter of starting, the rest goes by itself. But I must say I did enjoy all the physical labor and then a session of yoga as well as cooking for myself again, though I did love being @ my mom’s this summer, she cooked every lunch and it was mainly out of the garden.

So the gigs are turning out cool though some of these new Buzz Inn ones have some strange vibes attached. For one I show up @ the Mukilteo gig to see 60 Japanese engineers wolfing down steak, leaving no room for my eager fans to get to me. @ other locations it seems that I am the designated replacement for failed Karaoke nights and the remnant patrons take it personally against me for ruining their chances @ star search. But thanks to Cindy I have been strategically placed to perform @ 5 different Buzz Inn locations opening a totally new era in my musical life.

It is absolutely great to be playing with Dale the Coyote on the Keyboards again, last night we were played to rehearse for 4 hours in Issaquah and we went through some old songs spiral notebooks of mine and had a real gas jamming to new and old tunes. Great to see you again, Dale.

Well it is Sunday morning and I am still in my bathrobe, it is time to shake it and break out some domestic chores, sorry to shatter your illusions of my grandeur but my life is very real and I plan on keeping it that way.

I would love to hear from long time and new journal readers if you feel like making contact.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.

Day 22

Daze have past, a blitz of gigs and miles of roads, about 3000 klicks, some rest time and one stretch of grueling autobahn mania with 9 gigs in a row. Tonight I play the last one and I look forward to the quiet highway @ one AM. It will be Sunday, no trucks allowed on the autobahn. Tommorow back home after 6 hours sleep I will shower , spiff myself up and appear
as the star guest @ the Country Freunde Rhein Main annual Summerfest. The weather has been unpredictable causing me to have to reset up my EQ 3 times a night once, in, out in,!
Last night it rained monsson style with 4 hours of lightning, constant and close.. in the states I would never play in these conditions, I would have turned off all my gear....but they tried to convince me that European power systems have a safeguard...I made my last will and testament and asked to be buried over the nearest cliff in Lucky.

Day 21

Holland was great. I knew it would be as I sound checked @ 11:00 AM, after enjoying sa swim in the adjoining lake and a morning Yoga stint. I played a really relaxed set with lots of table climbing for show points, sweet cheek kissing to keep my female fans hooked and stunning instrumentals that made every guitar player in the house look up. I know my craft and I love it when the audience gets into it. That night as I raced home I renamed Betsy to Lucky. In other words, I´m lucky if I get there, but the old Merc reacts like the gentleman he is and gets me through 2 hairraising traffic events and I ame at home around 12:oo midnight, in time to sleep and soundcheck@ 10:00 AM in Kronberg for a gig with the Helt Oncale band.
Now I get 5 daze off and I am @ Horti´s camp on a lake. I feel great!