Weeknotes: November 18-22, 2024
Monday, November 18
It's mid-afternoon and I'm standing at the end of my block with Islay who is examining a hedge. Across the street a band loads out of an upstairs apartment. The first guy has a freshly-sculpted mohawk and a guitar case and is followed single file by two mismatched bandmates with amps and drum gear.
At work we are assembling our year-end lists, both for the company and as individual editors. I have some focused listening to do. At dusk I head out on foot and find myself wandering though Highland Cemetery, listening to Arooj Aftab's Night Reign on my headphones. It's a good cemetery album, more seductive than spooky. As night falls, I see a woman walking a dog in my direction down the dark wooded lane and turn around so as not to scare her. On my way out I pause at the gate which is eerily lit by a high purple streetlight. Now I'm listening to the Shovel Dance Collective, a U.K. folk group who sound a bit like Ireland's Lankum. Their slow, brooding version of the old maritime ballad "The Merry Golden Tree" is a masterpiece. I love these new dark trad bands.
Tuesday, November 19
Parallel to my work-listening, I continue with my A-Z vinyl census, flipping records all morning while I work. The tile-laying in the bathroom continues and poor Sebastian the contractor endures my Jacques Brel, Brownsville Station, and Lindsey Buckingham. I know he has good taste, though. Last week I snuck in there while he was on a break and was surprised to hear Toumani & Sidiki Diabaté’s beautiful kora duets coming out of his bluetooth speaker. That’s one of my favorite albums of the past decade.
In class, my instructor has a bad head cold, but gamely soldiers on. We print out the posters we've designed and turn them in for grading. Each student was assigned a famous designer to emulate in their poster. I got the Swiss raconteur Stefan Sagmeister whom I like, but has a much messier aesthetic than I do. I chose to do all my lettering by hand and while I think I was marginally successful, I don't love my final product.
Wednesday, November 20
"I'm thinking about giving this song a persimmons-based title."
I've convinced John to drive to Detroit with me to take in a random weeknight bill at Moondog Café. I've been meaning to check out this venue for months and I had tonight free. We drink fizzy CBD sodas and sit in an old church pew with about a dozen other people listening to a local artist called Duck Duck Chicken (the persimmons fan) followed by Melanie A. Davis, a touring artist from Kentucky. Her partner and guitarist is named Fate McAfee (what a name!) and he plays a wonky old Silvertone eclectic with uncommon grace. Melanie plays a '70s Alvarez J-200 copy. Both of them are fantastic guitarists with a symbiotic sense of rhythm and clever, well-built songs. Duck Duck Chicken is no slouch either. He plays a whimsical instrumental set of guitar, keyboard, and drum loops that at times reminds me of Michael Rother's sunnier krautrock moments.
Thursday, November 21
The first snowfall of the season. I open my curtains to a pleasing vignette of autumn fading into winter. There are still green leaves on some of the trees and big white flakes hammer down on them, heavy and wet. Around 6PM, I drive out under the last traces of daylight to go get my hair cut. I enjoy this time of year. There is something comforting about the industrious, end-of-rush hour, busy holiday darkness. It invokes a very specific type of coziness. I like to be in a well-lit shop or out amid the bustle before everyone goes home and settles in for the night.
Friday, November 22
Around 11AM Sebastian puts the final touches on my bathroom. I've been without a functioning shower for ten days now, relying on the mercy of friends and neighbors. It's like being on vacation 5% of the time. Mostly normal life, but with a bit of regional shower tourism.
In the evening I play on a bill of solo singer/songwriters at a club a few blocks from home. CC is at the Gillian Welch concert in Royal Oak, so it's just me up there. On a whim I play half the set on my Telecaster and get a little shouty on a couple songs. Otherwise, it's a nice low-key vibe. I visit with my old upstairs neighbors who moved to California at the beginning of the year. I'm surprised to learn that they have been reading this blog, getting a boots-on-the-ground survey of their old neighborhood. I'm glad to have had gigs the past three weekends.