I can't really fathom the oil spill. For several reasons, I can't wrap my mind around it. I think part of that is some sort of emotional response my immune system impinges on me to keep my literal cranium from exploding into a fine pink, brain-colored mist, or from flying over to BP headquarters in jolly-old and raising the issue personally.
Part of it is not being able to comprehend the literal physics and physical size of the disaster. I understand that a methane pocket caused the Deepwater Horizon to explode and sink and that there have been half a dozen methods to stop the poisonous sludge from gushing into our ocean waters. By far the worst part of this disaster were the hard working guys who perished as generators and rigging exploded around them like the materialization of hell itself.
The ocean and its immensity have always frightened me on a primal level. Have you ever looked at a ship-wreck in dim, under-water light while scuba diving and not had the immediate urge to be topside? Throw in some barracuda and I'm officially soiling my wet suit during my hasty ascent. Not to mention we haven't explored more than about five percent of the ocean, one percent when talking about the sea floor itself (where I hear only the most terrible sea monsters prefer to spend their days). The National Ocean Service says that the vast majority of the ocean is dark, no light can penetrate below 3,000 feet. Dark AND unknown? No thanks.
The ocean's getting even darker, with oil. It's all I can think about, trying to comprehend how it happened, and more importantly, how the hell it will be stopped before the August relief-well dig completion. The worst part? There is not much I can do sitting here, high in the rockies, except send hair clippings for oil-absorbent buoys (done the day after I got my customary post-tour hair cut).
This sense of helplessness led to great satisfaction when I read this morning that the feds will be investigating both civil and criminal cases against BP. And while we are talking about the current administration (isn't this a music blog?) I'd like to say, unabashedly, that Obama is doing a good job. He's pragmatic, responsive, doesn't make America sound like a bunch of red-necks, and has pushed legislation through which will make Americans healthier and prevent bankers from getting too much wealthier. Bush sat on his ass while domestic issues like Katrina ate at the soul of our country, while lying to the public on the premise of starting wars of aggression, a war which has gone on to be the longest engagement in our history, unless you count the pointless, counterproductive money waste we call the "war on drugs".
As it turns out, nature herself might be the saving grace of this whole situation. While BP rejects inventors and scientists, the ideas of those who've known something like this was going to happen and put their dollars into stopping it, there is a multitude of thought and innovation being put into how to fix this. You can find it all over YouTube. But the real fix might be nature's built-in protections against oil which is, after all a naturally occuring substance itself. Scientists say plant-matter can recover from one good oiling, although the second or third will kill it off. Microscopic organisms in the ocean can eat oil particles. Warm sea water facilitates the evaporation of the oil off the surface.
In the interim BP needs to stop using environmentally harmful dispersants, keep the oil off the coastline and let nature do what she does with the thousands of naturally occurring oil leaks on the seabed floor all over the world.
If it is found that BP management was criminally negligent in their safety precautions, precautions protecting the very world which allows them to breath air, taste their caviar or feel the wind in their hair while riding in the Rolls, all while blindly preparing to decimate a region already embattled with nature, then heads should roll as an example that the Earth, our Mother, is not to be fucked with.
Wednesday, June 2
Saturday, May 22
Summer is here..
Summer is here.. - Trevor Jones's MySpace Blog | - New Album and Summer Plans
Summer is here in Colorado, evidenced by the mojito party about to go down in my parent's house for my best friend from childhood, Mike, who is getting married in July. I admire him and admire his fiance even more for putting up with the guy. I can't see myself getting married, my profession simply prevents it, for one. Put by Tony Montana, a mutual idol for Mike and I both, "In this country, you gotta make the money first."
So how do you make money as a musician? Not by selling physical copies or downloads of your music. We in Frogs have a decent shot at that, only because our record label is small, independent and most importantly, cool. But for most of rock history bands gave all their money to the label who for some reason, wanted it back after recording costs, mastering costs, mixing costs, limousine and cocaine costs, and fluffy pink pillows on the hotel beds during the entire recording process costs were all factored in. Thank the rock gods we live in more moderate times.
No, to make money as a musician you simply play your backside off. This is inevitably a good thing because while you're spending all day writing blogs and updating facebook instead of practicing, a show every night provides three hours of shedding and shredding that makes you think in real time, although you have to be able to take the same musical risks you would in practice so you can grow, even if it means falling flat on your face first. This is a point the industry analyst everyone loves to hate, Bob Lefsetz, makes a lot, that the music is the only thing that can save the music now. I just wonder if we as a people have time for the epic rock song anymore, now that the internet has replaced baseball as our national pastime. Musician's wages haven't gone up since the 70's but that doesn't mean a couple hundred bucks for just a couple hours of indulging in your art is bad pay at all. It's all about the frequency with which you can book and keep gigs. I'm playing at the farmer's market this month, on Sunday's with my keyboard playing alter-ego in the Stereo Assassins, even driving across the state to play two gigs in the same day on some days. A positive attitude and willingness to travel go a long way.
No travelling today, however. I'm playing just up the highway in Denver at Jordan's Bistro with an old friend tonight. First I need a mojito.
Summer is here in Colorado, evidenced by the mojito party about to go down in my parent's house for my best friend from childhood, Mike, who is getting married in July. I admire him and admire his fiance even more for putting up with the guy. I can't see myself getting married, my profession simply prevents it, for one. Put by Tony Montana, a mutual idol for Mike and I both, "In this country, you gotta make the money first."
So how do you make money as a musician? Not by selling physical copies or downloads of your music. We in Frogs have a decent shot at that, only because our record label is small, independent and most importantly, cool. But for most of rock history bands gave all their money to the label who for some reason, wanted it back after recording costs, mastering costs, mixing costs, limousine and cocaine costs, and fluffy pink pillows on the hotel beds during the entire recording process costs were all factored in. Thank the rock gods we live in more moderate times.
No, to make money as a musician you simply play your backside off. This is inevitably a good thing because while you're spending all day writing blogs and updating facebook instead of practicing, a show every night provides three hours of shedding and shredding that makes you think in real time, although you have to be able to take the same musical risks you would in practice so you can grow, even if it means falling flat on your face first. This is a point the industry analyst everyone loves to hate, Bob Lefsetz, makes a lot, that the music is the only thing that can save the music now. I just wonder if we as a people have time for the epic rock song anymore, now that the internet has replaced baseball as our national pastime. Musician's wages haven't gone up since the 70's but that doesn't mean a couple hundred bucks for just a couple hours of indulging in your art is bad pay at all. It's all about the frequency with which you can book and keep gigs. I'm playing at the farmer's market this month, on Sunday's with my keyboard playing alter-ego in the Stereo Assassins, even driving across the state to play two gigs in the same day on some days. A positive attitude and willingness to travel go a long way.
No travelling today, however. I'm playing just up the highway in Denver at Jordan's Bistro with an old friend tonight. First I need a mojito.
Thursday, May 13
After New Orleans
I feel like I have culture shock after spending a month in New Orleans with Frogs Gone Fishin' and moving back to Colorado for the summer. That's pretty strange, I grew up in Denver and have spent so many weekends romping in the mountains where I'll locate myself this summer. Something about NOLA has just become so entwined, so complimentary to my lifestyle and profession that living other places seems strange.
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
I love Colorado. Right now I'm staring out the window across an alpine valley at Beaver Creek mountain. The May weather has left still-white patches of snow where the sun hasn't uncovered the greenery beneath and my favorite part about the Beav, mythic cloud cover that wafts down the valley all day like a mountain out of Mordor or something. At night the lights from houses nestled into the hills glimmer at the base of the towering mountain. The way we as humans have come to interact with nature here in Colorado is beautiful. Then again, it's easy. Save for some cold winter months, we simply lack the fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami's that make life uncertain elsewhere, New Orleans for example.
Maybe its New Orleans' embattled relationship with nature that stirs my affinity for the city, but I know I become more emotional about NOLA than just about anything in life. When the Saints won the big one early this year I reacted by tearing my shirt off, crying, and running around the house at the Super Bowl party... all in the company of other grown men. I think one of the biggest problems in describing the "soul" of the city of New Orleans is just that, talking about the "soul" of a city, its food and music and culture, all sounds so cliche to non-believers, non-knowers. New Orleans carries so many cliches that getting people to picture the town as a whole, beyond Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras, is difficult.
Its scary how accurate that new Treme show is on HBO. The show is so true to NOLA that I wonder how someone without a fair amount of experience with the Big Easy can enjoy the extended scenes of musical performance and geographically specific dialogue. As a band we know five or six musicians featured on the show personally. My alma mater, Tulane, is bashed repeatedly by John Goodman in his ranting monologues for their post-Katrina policies. Even the Times-Picayune has a column dedicated to all the subtleties of Treme originating from the names, places and faces in NOLA. New Orleans is a town as deep as it is diverse, as deep as you want to take it. If you found the oldest lady living near Audubon Park, walked in her dusty dark house, and asked her about the craziest thing she'd ever seen living in New Orleans, your jaw would melt and mind might warp listening to stories about a town that has seen its share of fire, flood, prostitution, gambling, drugs and violence, problems which never really went away. Treme is the oldest black neighborhood in America and the very center of much of the music that comes out of New Orleans today and yesterday. That places it high in the running for being the center of musical creation in America, the center of rhythmic structure that went on to be our main artistic export to the world, Jazz.
And that's right, I cried when the Saints won. I said it and I'll say it again. I cried during the newly elected mayor's inauguration speech. I almost cried during the first episode of Treme when the characters are just returning from their Katrina exile. Maybe it is because I was one of those in exile and can't fathom that type of loss after living in NOLA my whole life, but both the struggle and triumph of New Orleans turns me into an absolute emotional, weeping little girl who can't keep the waterworks turned off.
How my feelings toward NOLA and the desire to live there all translate into musical opportunity is a complex issue. We make more money in Colorado, yet have also spent vastly more time building up a fan base here. New Orleans is a much richer creative environment and the sense of community as a whole makes Colorado look like the white bread capital of the world, if you get my drift. Colorado smells fresh and clean, New Orleans smells like salt water and saltier fish and gardenias. I'm torn.
You trade nature for culture between the two places and as an artist, I have to choose culture. If I did anything else for a living, I'd probably want to live in Colorado for the rest of my life. I just saw an article yesterday about how Denver has the third best economy in the nation out of 366 metro areas surveyed by Policom (never heard of 'em but that name sure does sound official).
Both NOLA and Colorado are beautiful places to live and I'm lucky to be able to switch between the two. The culture shock goes away after a couple days. I'm gonna go take a hike...
Wednesday, March 31
NOLA BOUND
from frogstour.com:
Last night was our final stop of tour and we're now headed down I-85 toward Atlanta. The crowd in Greensboro, NC was super responsive and and a nice way to end a tour of varied crowds in lots of new venues and markets. There's an adjustment all musicians have to make when they leave their comfortable home pond for other lily pads. The crowds will always be smaller and less receptive than your good people back home. We miss Colorado most on nights when the creepy sound guy, over sized door man and randy bartendress are the only three souls in the club, most likely peeved they have to work at all with such poor attendance. It's not your fault... March Madness, rain, certain other jam bands who seem to follow your every scheduled stop on the road, all compete for people's attention. More than likely these people have never heard of you, so you make sure and treat the ones who have as best you can.
But there are those nights... Dayton, Chicago, Charleston, Greensboro.. when people get DOWN! The crowd dictates how you play, they even play you. Even when just a few people are dancing hard, it can be better that a packed room full of sedentary listeners. And watching four girls dance makes it easier to play than a whole room of dudes who just want to know what kind of Monster Cable you use, trust us.
Other shows... Nashville, Milwaukee, Aimes, Cedar Rapids... are for friends. Some of these people have supported us unconditionally from the beginning and show up, rain or shine, competing John Mayer concert or not, and give us hope. Hope sounds like strong language, like we are in a life or death situation and this is just music, people. But making that adjustment from comfortable regional musician to striving touring artist takes a commitment to rejecting attachments like knowing exactly where you'll fall asleep that night or where you'll be in three day's time. Fans and friends really help that process along and make the whole ride fun.
So, in addition to friends and fans, we'd like to also acknowledge all the beautiful freaks we've met this time around the nation. You make touring REALLY interesting. Whether it's walking into a house filled with sleeping bodies all over the floor, dreadlocks and patchwork pants everywhere, or rowdiness that only college parties can really accomplish, thank you, funky freaky people of the USA.
Tour isn't technically over just yet, because it's that time of year again, time for our yearly residency in the musically epic city of New Orleans. Last year we finished up with a gig at the historic Maple Leaf Bar on Oak St., uptown. Since then, we threw a 10-band festival at Red Rocks and Trevor even sat-in with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Now we are kicking off our NOLA stay with two Wednesdays in a row at The Maple Leaf and returning to CO in May with a gig alongside the Dirty Dozen Brass Band! That will all correspond with the release of Actual Natural on Mountain Size Records which was just mastered by two-time Grammy winner David Glasser and is being pressed as we speak with artwork by TRIPP, the psychedelic poster czar of Colorado himself.
New Orleans is always a productive time for us and new songs are always learned and written. There is so much to pick up down there, both musically and otherwise. The colors of the flowers and houses are even visually overwhelming. We look forward to playing with our musical friends , as well. The level of musicianship in NOLA is unparalleled in most parts of the nation. For now, keep your eyes peeled for the release of Actual Natural in a couple weeks and come visit us in New Orleans. Yeah you right...
Last night was our final stop of tour and we're now headed down I-85 toward Atlanta. The crowd in Greensboro, NC was super responsive and and a nice way to end a tour of varied crowds in lots of new venues and markets. There's an adjustment all musicians have to make when they leave their comfortable home pond for other lily pads. The crowds will always be smaller and less receptive than your good people back home. We miss Colorado most on nights when the creepy sound guy, over sized door man and randy bartendress are the only three souls in the club, most likely peeved they have to work at all with such poor attendance. It's not your fault... March Madness, rain, certain other jam bands who seem to follow your every scheduled stop on the road, all compete for people's attention. More than likely these people have never heard of you, so you make sure and treat the ones who have as best you can.
But there are those nights... Dayton, Chicago, Charleston, Greensboro.. when people get DOWN! The crowd dictates how you play, they even play you. Even when just a few people are dancing hard, it can be better that a packed room full of sedentary listeners. And watching four girls dance makes it easier to play than a whole room of dudes who just want to know what kind of Monster Cable you use, trust us.
Other shows... Nashville, Milwaukee, Aimes, Cedar Rapids... are for friends. Some of these people have supported us unconditionally from the beginning and show up, rain or shine, competing John Mayer concert or not, and give us hope. Hope sounds like strong language, like we are in a life or death situation and this is just music, people. But making that adjustment from comfortable regional musician to striving touring artist takes a commitment to rejecting attachments like knowing exactly where you'll fall asleep that night or where you'll be in three day's time. Fans and friends really help that process along and make the whole ride fun.
So, in addition to friends and fans, we'd like to also acknowledge all the beautiful freaks we've met this time around the nation. You make touring REALLY interesting. Whether it's walking into a house filled with sleeping bodies all over the floor, dreadlocks and patchwork pants everywhere, or rowdiness that only college parties can really accomplish, thank you, funky freaky people of the USA.
Tour isn't technically over just yet, because it's that time of year again, time for our yearly residency in the musically epic city of New Orleans. Last year we finished up with a gig at the historic Maple Leaf Bar on Oak St., uptown. Since then, we threw a 10-band festival at Red Rocks and Trevor even sat-in with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Now we are kicking off our NOLA stay with two Wednesdays in a row at The Maple Leaf and returning to CO in May with a gig alongside the Dirty Dozen Brass Band! That will all correspond with the release of Actual Natural on Mountain Size Records which was just mastered by two-time Grammy winner David Glasser and is being pressed as we speak with artwork by TRIPP, the psychedelic poster czar of Colorado himself.
New Orleans is always a productive time for us and new songs are always learned and written. There is so much to pick up down there, both musically and otherwise. The colors of the flowers and houses are even visually overwhelming. We look forward to playing with our musical friends , as well. The level of musicianship in NOLA is unparalleled in most parts of the nation. For now, keep your eyes peeled for the release of Actual Natural in a couple weeks and come visit us in New Orleans. Yeah you right...
Sunday, March 28
Southern Air
The air is just sweeter down here. Pulling into Charleston was like emerging from a cold dream into a new paradise. Only hours before I had gone to sleep on a cold mountain highway in Appalachia after driving all night till dawn and now woke near the beach, saltwater smell drifting through the cabin. The beach felt replenishing. After months of trying to stay warm under layers and layers of clothing in the High Rockies, I couldn't help but jump in the salty Atlantic three or four times, cold water, waves and all.
The show on King St. was packed and rowdy. We were told the female/male ratio here is 7-1. In the Vail Valley it's one female for every seven dudes. I'm moving to the beach...
Something about the South promotes a heavier, slower way of playing music and leading life, for that matter. Of course, in my mind nothing can compare to New Orleans in the Spring. The flowers, sun, music, festivals, and beautiful people mix about in a heavy stew of history and funky energy and the result in spectacular. We'll be there by Friday. You are welcome to come visit!
I'm writing and playing guitar every day in the RV. This is the absolute best way to travel down the road in America and observe America, 55 mph at a time.
Who needs a tour bus?
The show on King St. was packed and rowdy. We were told the female/male ratio here is 7-1. In the Vail Valley it's one female for every seven dudes. I'm moving to the beach...
Something about the South promotes a heavier, slower way of playing music and leading life, for that matter. Of course, in my mind nothing can compare to New Orleans in the Spring. The flowers, sun, music, festivals, and beautiful people mix about in a heavy stew of history and funky energy and the result in spectacular. We'll be there by Friday. You are welcome to come visit!
I'm writing and playing guitar every day in the RV. This is the absolute best way to travel down the road in America and observe America, 55 mph at a time.
Who needs a tour bus?
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