Weeknotes: April 29 - May 3, 2024
As spring progresses, my note-taking habits are loosening up. I skipped Weeknotes last week. That’s fine. I may hit pause more often throughout the summer. I’m enjoying being outside and working in my yard.
Monday, April 29
I'm sleeping with the windows open again and the birds wake me around 5:30. It's always robins. The local harbinger of early morning. There are days when I'd like to sleep in longer, but spring feels especially friendly right now and I'm happy to hear my neighborhood come to life. The lilacs on my street are in bloom and the volunteer tulips next to the sidewalk have risen to attention. Rain showers move through as frequently as trains. Everything is leafing out and I'm into all of it.
I listen to Mdou Moctar's wild Funeral For Justice album while Islay and I meander up the street. She pauses and sniffs every invisible station while I vibe to the North African guitar shredding lighting up my synapses. After work I sit on the bed and email venues, trying to put together a small weekend tour in July. Soliciting gigs is one of the most thankless tasks in music, but I'm trying to keep my calendar relatively vibrant, so I suffer through it.
As evening rain comes and goes, I record a demo of a song I wrote in 2022. I have so much unreleased material right now, I'm trying to get it all down and figure out what to do with it. It's humid and warm and I keep the studio window open, allowing the night sounds to permeate the tracks.
Afterwards I watch Top Chef. I'm not much for reality TV, but I started watching this show for first time last spring while ramping up for my album's release. It became an easy stress reliever and now I just enjoy it. Kristen Kish is still getting her rhythm down as host, but I like her. And I like that the new season is in Wisconsin, a state I have a lot of affection for.
Tuesday, April 30
All yard, all night. A trip to Lowe's for a few more retaining wall bricks, some flowers, a new wren house, and a tropical plant to inaugurate this year’s Fronds Lounge. I listen to an old Afrobeat mix while I weed and build my little decorative wall next to the shed. Then I move the morning glory seedlings from their planting trays into their forever home under the back fence. The transfer is a little rough, especially for the celestial blues. I hope they recover. I build a chicken wire enclosure around them until they're old enough to start climbing. I've had trouble with rabbits and will take no chances this year.
After working on screens all day, I forget how satisfying yard work can be. I build a fire in the pit and Nick brings over a mini-keg of some German kölsch he was gifted. We make a proper Tuesday night of it. He tells me a story he read about a 19th century diver in Duluth who discovered a lake beneath Lake Superior called Lake Inferior. It seems fake, but we have a lively discussion about it before digressing into synthpop bands. This is how I want the rest of the summer to go.
Wednesday, May 1
At the Michigan Theater to see Phil Rosenthal, whom I know very little about. K has been hired as the moderator and managed to get me a comp ticket. Outside the venue I run into some old friends and we walk in together, catching each other up on the past 4-5 years before heading off to our seats. Steely Dan plays over the P.A. and I look around the room, suddenly aware of all the bald middle aged heads in my vicinity. Most of them are pulling it off to some degree. My head is too large and lumpy to be shaved. The world will have to endure my hair loss in realtime.
I look at the security guy at the stage left door and remember playing the Michigan Theater in 2007 when we opened for Patti Smith. It was our first union gig and as we pulled our various cars into the alley behind her bus, a crew of stagehands came out and insisted on loading in our meager gear. It was a lot of nervous "you have to hold it this way or the back falls off" and "be careful, the handle is broken" as we trailed behind feeling like idiots. We had fun exploring the various dressing rooms and backstage corridors with Jesse and Jackson who got us the gig. It was such a thrill playing this legendary theater where I saw so many important shows. Patti and her band were so kind and most of us ended up drinking together at Arbor Brewing after the show.
K does a marvelous job in her first moderating gig. Very professional, at ease with her lavalier mic, interviewing another traveling foodie in front of 1500 people. Phil comes across as very likable and I laugh out loud several times. He also understands show business and the effect of a long pause. I've never watched his show. Anthony Bourdain was always my food and travel guy. At one point Phil describes his original pitch to PBS: "I'm like Anthony Bourdain if he was afraid of everything."
Thursday, May 2
It's my brother's birthday. A Taurus in Michigan gets the full spectrum of weather. He has had dreary 40° birthdays and sweltering ones in the high 80s. He is a man who loves a cool overcast day (a trait we share), but there is no denying how lovely today is. Sunny, mid-70s, a light breeze, and full of promise. We meet up in early evening for a family cookout in his backyard. Everyone is in high spirits. My dad and I discuss the Steve Martin documentary on Apple+ which we both loved. We all talk about our yards and compare the costs of hanging plants. I got my petunias at Lowe's, but I'd like some more baskets for the front porch. I have to leave early to get to band practice where we continue working on two new songs. From one family gathering to another.
Friday, May 3
The Bar at 327 Braun Court -- colloquially known for the past 12+ years as "Bar" -- is closing next week. Eric held a private friends and family blowout last weekend which is already lodged firmly in my highlight reel of fond memories. Tonight I go early for a more casual happy hour meetup. I met Eric through K sometime in the mid-2000s and we've been friends ever since. She and I were regulars at Bar for its entire existence and I hate to see it go. As most other businesses have left the deteriorating Braun Court, Bar was its anchor, a warm little neighborhood cocktail lounge, relatively unassuming from the street, but a haven for those in the know. It's a loss for Ann Arbor and especially for Kerrytown, a district not known for its nightlife.
We sit upstairs chatting with Eric and Danielle behind the bar. My brother and Jenny show up. Jenny designed Bar's logo and illustrated each of its quirky drink menus which would change several times throughout the year, usually with the seasons. Eric points out that the title of the final menu "All Good Things," is also the title of Star Trek: The Next Generation’s series finale, one of several pop culture Easter eggs he's planted among its pages. This is very on brand for Eric. He set out to create the fun, low-key neighborhood bar he'd want to hang out in and that's exactly what it has been for so many of us. More friends trickle in throughout the evening and we spill out into the old brick courtyard which will likely become another highrise or condominium. Cities change. It's not the first beloved Ann Arbor business I've said goodbye to (R.I.P. Middle Earth, Peaceable Kingdom, Hollander’s, etc.) and it won't be the last. I hug my friends and walk up the street to my car, unsure whether or not that was my last drink at Bar.