Weeknotes: October 14-18, 2024

Monday, October 14

I feel behind on pumpkin-acquisition and other fall imperatives. Where are my decorative corn stalks and knobbly gourds? I still have hanging ferns and a potted geranium on the porch. It's going to be November in a couple weeks and I'll be removing the screens and cleaning the windows, one of my favorite pre-winter rituals, usually done after daylight savings ends.

Lunchtime is a failure. For the second day in a row I drive out to Liberty Station to check my P.O. box and do a quick photo shoot, and for the second day in a row I find the lobby closed, this time for Columbus Day. Since I'm downtown, I hit up two different running stores to try and replace my worn out shoes, but don't find what I want. It's a waste of a trip. I console myself with a new $3 gel pen from Literati's pen bar, then head back to Ypsilanti.

Tuesday, October 15

Field Notes launches their quarterly edition notebook today, a series honoring bird artist Rex Brasher. I let my annual subscription lapse a couple years ago and haven't been able to afford it since. I'm devoted to this brand, but I just buy a 3-pack. Maybe next quarter I can go back to the annual.

CC comes over to rehearse for our Detroit gig next Tuesday. I feel rusty, but it's good to play with someone else and our voices soon fall into line. We spend a lot of time catching up and laughing, then waste 45 minutes trying to create some video content to promote the show. Content. That dreaded word. I suppose this blog is content. And all day I generate content for work. Technically, my job title is Content Editor, though I still prefer Pop Editor.  I miss the days when we all just made things, but "content" and "influencer" weren't really part of the lexicon yet.  

Wednesday, October 16

Islay has rediscovered Depot Town. The loud trailer noise that spooked her on the Forest Street Bridge in early 2023 seems to have finally faded from her memory and we are reclaiming it as the prime dog-walking territory that it is. The Milk-Bones generously laid out on the windowsill of Paula and Sinderella's Barbershop hold enough allure to get her across the river, though she's still very particular about how she wants our route to go. Over the weekend, I stepped out thinking we'd amble across the street and back, but we were gone an hour and a half. Other days I can barely get her off the porch. 

I finally get my Liberty Station photo and find in my mailbox the October edition of the Ann Arbor Observer and a copy of the new album by Halcyon Phase, an Ottawa band with a sleek, but earthy mid-to-late Pink Floyd feel. The band’s frontman Frank Smith has been very supportive of my own music and I’m glad to give his new record a listen later on my hi-fi.

Thursday, October 17

My instructor has brought cider and doughnuts to class from an orchard in Plymouth. I feel good about the work I submitted and my mind is sprouting new channels of creativity. I'm heading in a direction I like. Later I read that the Ann Arbor Symphony is doing a John Williams pops concert this weekend. When else will I get a chance to hear Superman, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones played live by a full orchestra?

Before band practice CC and I walk to the end of the block to gaze at the giant orange Hunter’s Moon, the brightest supermoon of the year. We both start singing Trip Shakespeare's "Look at the Moon." Our rehearsal is much more focused tonight. No content creation, just a systematic run-through of the entire set, tweaking harmonies and filing off rough edges. All week my playing has felt clumsy, but halfway through it clicks into place.

Friday, October 18

Neko Case is looking feral, as K describes it. She had a spare ticket to tonight's show in Royal Oak and has taken me along. After the inevitable 696 traffic we hit UHF Records where I buy a discounted copy of Chris Franz's Remain in Love memoir which has been on my reading list. At a cocktail bar next to the theater we watch other patrons lining up outside the venue. I haven't seen a lot of shows at Royal Oak Music Theater, but they've all been heavy hitters. Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians in 1992, Fleet Foxes in 2008, the Pogues in 2012. 

K's tickets are in the second row. I've never sat so close in a venue of this size. Lucy Wainwright Roche is the surprise opener and represents the family business well. Somehow she's only the second member of that songwriting dynasty I've seen live (I saw her brother Rufus a few miles away in Ferndale in 2001). She's surprisingly funny with a big earnest voice that fills the room. Neko, with her wild hair and signature skeleton pants, does look a little feral, an aesthetic emphasized by the sharp-toothed creature illustration on all her new merchandise. I've seen her twice before, but it's a real treat to be about ten feet away from the band. I get excited to examine all their gear. I'd forgotten that she mostly plays tenor guitar, an instrument you rarely see, let alone an electric one. At one point she breaks out a Martin dreadnought with seven strings. I've never seen this guitar before and an internet search later reveals it to be a D-7 Roger McGuinn model with a bit of extra jangle on the G string. Her songs are of course wonderful, dark and human, and she has one of the great voices of the 21st century.