Pure Live Bluegrass Joy

AaaAAaAaaaaAAAa!!!

That’s what I have to say about the concert I saw last night at the Sheldon with Bela Fleck (banjo), Bryan Sutton (guitar) and Casey Driessen (fiddle). AaaAAaAaaaaAAAa!!! It was mind blowing! As a musician, I always pay rapt attention to an instrumentalist’s hands. Anyone who has read former live reviews of mine will know that I have often said that “fingers are flying” etc. But I have never seen the likes of this. Whoa dang!

Bela was the main attraction of course. He’s widely regarded as the best banjo player in the world. It’s funny that just last week when I was home, I was playing some bands for my dad and he said, “I just never thought you would like bluegrass.” I’ve admired it, especially the fiddle and mandolin, for some time, but I didn’t start getting into it until I fell in love with Nickel Creek and Chris Thile. My dad’s biggest objection to bluegrass is the banjo. He says the twangy strings get on his nerves after a while. “It always sounds the same.” Well, I wish my dad could have seen Bela. Good Lord in heaven. He can make the banjo sound ways no one would have ever thought. Did you know he released a whole CD of classical pieces? Bach, Beethoven etc. all on the banjo.

But Bela (pronounced Bayla) wasn’t the only virtuoso on stage. Chris and Bryan delighted me. Chris had on a floral shirt, jeans and bright red plasticky-looking shoes with a swath of gold from the bottom center to the heel. Hilarious. His fiddling was superb. But as a struggling guitarist, I was supremely amazed by Bryan. Wow.

Now onto one other live event. Two weeks ago, I got to see the Avett Brothers perform at Off Broadway. Man, what a treat. They are a young bluegrass trio from North Carolina. Two brothers on the guitar and banjo and a friend on the bass. Cute too! While this also is bluegrass, it’s a different beast. I mean, the guys above are mind-blowers. These young guys are just great performers, fun, talented and so enjoyable. Bela, Chris and Brian are instrumentalists who have mastered their genre. They were shy and uncomfortable speaking, but still very humorous. The Avett trio is not shy. The banjo player liked to shake his bushy head of hair and his brother shuffled his feet in the cutest way while he jammed. This is what some might call new grass. A progression of what our grandparents played for our generation. Same instruments, same ideas, but just given an edge. I had a blast at this concert. I even got my friend Steve to dance a couple tunes with me. I’ve really fallen in love with some of the Avett songs, especially Swept Away on Mignonette. If you like this genre at all, I highly recommend that CD.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

So I had my unemployment benefits appeals hearing on Tuesday. It sucked to be on the phone with my former boss and the head of personnel. It sucked to hear their voices and antagonism. But I kept myself together and I think it went well. The guy asked a lot of questions about break times and whether or not I might have been on the internet during breaks. Our District never talked about breaks. I mean, by law, we are supposed to get them, but no one took specific breaks. It was always a “get your work done” thing. So they couldn’t prove that I wasn’t on break while online. It was interesting too that when he found out that my boss monitored my internet use from her computer through the network, he didn’t ask me “Did you know she was monitoring you?” No, he said, “Did you know she was spying on you?” The word spying has heavy negative connotations. But honestly, both sides made good points and I think it could go either way.

I pray that it goes my way because I really need the money that I would get in back checks for the last 6 weeks or so. But it’s likely that I will start working temp soon. Next week, I am going to be landscaping a friend’s yard. After that, I will pursue a part-time job or temp work. Time to start saving money for my new plan.

Sick

I am on my third day of a bad sore throat that seems to be getting worse. I had to force myself to take a “sick day” even though there are tons of things I should be doing. I just stopped by the library to get a new book on CD to keep myself entertained. I’m quite unhappy about not having medical insurance. I know it is worse-case scenario to think this might be strep or something, but if it’s not getting better by day three, what am I supposed to think? And how long does something like that take to get out of your system when you have no anti-biotics? I mean, I don’t have time for this. I have a life I am supposed to be figuring out what the hell to do with! Hmph.

A Late Zoe with Cornmeal

I’ve been online so little lately that I didn’t get to talk about the great time I had at the Zoe Jam Music Fest a couple weekends ago. I went to volunteer my time (for a free ticket). It was a superbly perfect weekend for camping and I had a blast.

One band that I really liked, Cornmeal, wasn’t even on the bill. They dropped in from the Chicago scene and stole some of the show. I didn’t see a full performance as I had to leave the fest early, but I did catch a few songs and picked up both their CDs. One song in particular tickles me to death. Enjoy and check out their site if you like Bluegrass!

I wanna get me some of that lovin, like I never had before
Like the kind in a drugstore novel that they sell at the grocery store.
Oh just by chance a harlequin romance, now wouldn’t that be fun

I wanna meet someone, I wanna fall in love, I wanna get me some

I want to hear my heartstrings singing like the sound of a martin guitar
I wanna feel my knees start knocking like a picking on an old banjo
I wanna hear my heart start thumping loud like the beatin of a big bass drum

I wanna meet someone, I wanna fall in love, I wanna get me some

Yeah I wanna get me some of that lovin like you seen on the silver screen
Like the kind where the big war hero comes marching home again
And he plants a kiss on his little miss to last an eternity
I wanna get e some, yeah, I wanna see

I want to hear my heartstrings singing like the sound of a martin guitar
I wanna feel my knees start knocking like a picking on an old banjo
I wanna hear my heart start thumping loud like the beatin of a big bass drum

I wanna meet someone, I wanna fall in love, I wanna get me some

Ooo meet some one ooo fall in love ooo get me some ooo have some fun

Read by the Author

Books on CD read by the author are always a special treat. They don’t often have the same theatrical verbal skills, but they do know exactly the way a line is supposed to be read and what it means.

Anyway, earlier this week, I listened to the short book Bleachers by John Grisham, who also read the book. The story has a “Friday Night Lights” feel to it. A high school football team under enormous pressure to go all the way in a town that lives and breathes the game. But this story was more about the coach and how at the time of his imminent death, his former players have gathered. Each one is trying to decide if they want to celebrate their coach’s life and successes, or if they want to curse him for driving permanently into the depths of their minds and steering their lives long beyond the torturous practices and games of their teens.

The book is only a little over four hours long. It might peak a little early, according to me anyway, but I enjoyed it to the end. And I passed it on to a former high school foot ball player in a town that supplied all those pressures. He said it hit a little close to home. It’s an enjoyable, short venture and I do recommend it. I’m glad that Grisham is taking paths away from his law mysteries.

Not So Late-Night Talk

I spent last evening with my eldest sister Shelley and her daughters. I’ve talked about them many a time on here. The 17-year-old, the 11-year-old and the two-year-old. What a crowd. Love them to death.

It wasn’t long after 9 when the girls went to bed. Bristy could have stayed up later of course, but didn’t want to. I was happy. As much as I love her, I wanted to talk to my sister alone. Still, Krianna kept coming out with her little blanket and big brown beseeching eyes wondering where Mommy was. Shelley was breaking routine to talk to me. Normally, she and Krianna would curl up in bed together at this time. But sometimes, you need to be a big sis. (Even though your two-year-old throws a fit every time her aunt tries to hug her mom. She doesn’t want to share.)

Talking to Shelley about life-changing decisions is more poignant than talking to someone else. There’s a lot to it, but let’s just say her life took a different route than she had planned. She doesn’t regret to my knowledge, but she certainly has the experience to talk to me from. Still, she mostly listened as I tried with great difficulty to explain how confused and lost I feel. I work myself into such brain-cluttered tizzies sometimes that I can’t even find words.

But being a completely new, third-party listener, she really picked at the heart of what I was saying I wanted. What I was afraid of and more. She asked what the worst thing that could happen was. She reminded me that I was surrounded by friends and family who would never let me starve and always find room to take me in if I needed it. And she told me to be risky. Be risky. What do I have to lose?

And so, thanks to my sister, I am starting to think bigger again. She also was finally the person to get through to me on sitting down and making a list of my options. With 10 options with all their accompanying baggage running around in my head, no wonder I want to throw up with tension sometimes. She said I might write them down with their plusses and minuses and find out that there are really only 4 options. And then I should pick one and throw myself into it. It doesn’t help that I am one of those indecisive people I have ever met. She suggested picking from a hat.

But yes, I am thinking big. I am thinking dreams. I am thinking that I have one life. I am thinking that a year isn’t a long time. I am thinking… well… I will share that when I’m more solidified in my schemes. Gosh knows I have had enough of them over the years. My closest friends can tell you that. But a pluthera of dreams can only translate into some of them coming true. I hope I can make that happen.