Weeknotes: October 21-25, 2024
Monday, October 21
Battleground state fatigue. Two weeks unil the election and it's just a relentless slog of unwanted emails, texts, and TV ads. I listen to Death's classic debut Scream Bloody Gore over coffee and oatmeal. I hope it's not a harbinger of the violence we're all afraid will occur after November 5.
I remember when my brother first bought this album on cassette in the late-'80s. We were power metal guys (Iron Maiden, Helloween, Fate's Warning) and had never heard death metal. Jamie was already into punk and some thrash. He bought it because it seemed audacious and kind of funny. A band called Death with a bunch of skeletons in robes drinking wine on the cover. I was about ten or eleven and they were pretty heavy for me, but I was still rapt whenever he put them on. It was kind of scary and exciting, like when he gave me his Walkman and told me to go into the closet, turn off the lights, and listen to "In the Beginning" by Mötley Crüe. Shout at the Devil sounds lightweight now, but there was some great glam-Satanist theater to that intro that really tapped into the zeitgeist of the era.
I went to the John Williams pops concert over the weekend. I took my mom; we had a pub dinner then went to the symphony. Very classy. Honestly, it was one of the most transformative concerts I've seen in years. Even more than power metal, John Williams' film scores are the true music of my youth. They go straight into that special part of my soul where hope and green things live. My face hurt from smiling so hard and when I wasn't smiling I was crying, especially during the Superman march, Star Wars end credits, and E.T. theme. Damon Gupton was the guest conductor and proved to be an effective showman and emcee. Some of the players had costumes on; a few witch hats, a toy shark affixed to the top of the harp. We thought they were going to hold out and deny us the Raiders of the Lost Ark theme (we'd have gone all Scream Bloody Gore on them), but of course it was the encore. The joy of life was in that room.
Tuesday, October 22
This New Yorker cartoon has been making the rounds again. The first time I saw it on Instagram, my reaction was not humor, but heartbreak. Something about this wounded, yet resilient candy corn moved me. I think of it again today when our Detroit gig suffers a last minute cancellation. Some things can't be helped, but I always feel a real displacement whenever a gig falls through. I work hard to prepare for my shows. I'd rather be playing a gig than almost anything else in the world.
After class I turn on WCBN and drive home with the windows down. The DJ is playing some gloomy slowcore track that suits my mood. I give Islay a meandering walk, then take myself up to the bar where I sit by the window with my laptop and work on a school project. A musician friend stops in for a beer and we chat for a while about all the work that goes into preparing an indie record for release. The two drinks soften my edges and predictably, I emancipate most of the cash in my wallet. After the bar, I head across the alley to the pet store and buy a trout squeaky toy. Feeling more buoyant on the walk home, I pause on the Forest Street Bridge to watch the Huron charge down the corridor of trees past Frog Island. It's right downtown, but if you stand just so and squint, no urban landmarks are visible. What a joy to have this view so close to my house. Despite the canceled show, I've rescued my night from the jaws of despair. Echoing Mr. Candy Corn and his plucky self love, I think to myself "Well I like me."
Wednesday, October 23 - Friday, October 25
The fall weather is uniformly beautiful, even when it's overcast. I see it out the window, on dog walks, and during errands and commutes to class, but I'm so busy I find myself working late into the night and letting tasks I'd normally have given all my attention to slide by. I submit the final assets for Last Known Address, a commission for the Ann Arbor District Library that has occupied my energy for the entire year. I celebrate with a quick burst of self admin; I stop by the local Democratic office for a window sign, get my oil changed, and get my flu and COVID vaccines. I largely avoid the news and listen to music instead. St. Lenox, Bud Powell, the Hardy Tree, the Dream Academy, Amyl and the Sniffers, Kirsty MacColl, Howard Jones, Grateful Dead (R.I.P. Phil).
