(A post-script as a pre-script... I don't really go back and edit these, but... enjoy!)
Good Lord.
It's been a while. Welcome back. Hope your journeys have been fulfilling and enlightening.
Good Lord, mine have.
Wee... how scary a blank piece of paper is.
In my awesome and wonderful songwriting class, our teacher has been giving us tons of ways to deal with a blank piece of paper... different ways of thinking, tricks to get your mind out of blocks, random assigning of chords...
but it's still a little scary now and then.
The great unknown.
I'm discovering just how painful writing can be.
Say the wrong words, take them in the wrong context... you start wars.
But with the right words you can heal, teach, educate, and enrich.
My first outlet was with words.
Music came second.
And today I remember this.
So, it's Thanksgiving. A time to reflect. A time to be thankful. A time to be still.
Stillness is something I have been HORRIBLE at, up until my 30th birthday.
When you move around all the time - you never stop. Stopping is good. One must rest, one must heal, one must listen, one must be still.
If you're not still you (or at least me) find yourself adapting to all sorts of bizarre things. Humans were not meant to spend hours upon hours in a car. It's not organic. It's not normal. It's too fast.
You loose yourself to the running. You loose yourself to the speed. You don't think anymore, you just do. Reactionary. Impulsive. Rash. Not thinking. Doing.
And when I realized all that, I came crashing down. HARD.
Turning 30 was catastrophic for me.
I discovered I'd been running since I turned 21. Running away from home, running away from anyone and everything. Being the rebel. Not listening. Just doing. Act first, and pick up the pieces later.
When you run, you can't think straight. You're only worried about getting to point B and yourself.
But you're not really worried about yourself. You become a machine. Throw a bunch of stuff in your car so you won't forget anything, start the engine, throw on a CD, and loose yourself to the road.
Yes, yes, yes. That can be good.
SOMETIMES.
The weeks before my birthday, I'm thinking...
"Oh my God. My 20's! I haven't done enough! I must run more! I must do more crazy stuff!"
Then one day, your worst nightmare comes true.
You're 30.
Your twenties! They're gone! Holy shit! What are you going to do?!
Well, for me it was sit in a car, cry my eyeballs out, and basically act like a selfish idiot. Wanting to cry out for help, but not knowing what to say, how to say, or even what the hell to ask for. Needless to say, I am thankful that I have the support system I have that allowed me to go through that nonsense with some dignity.
Apparently this kind of break down is a normal thing for people that have a nasty habit of always moving around.
Moving around started for me as a child.
We moved at least every couple of years. The first two moves are pretty devastating, but then you get used to it. Leave things in boxes, knowing that they'll have to be re-moved eventually.
Moving didn't stop in college.
Every year? A different place.
That's a good thing, right? Sure! Adaptation is a wonderful trait.
And then I turned 30.
I realized pretty quickly that my 20's were not all they were cut out to be. Graduated college. (That was good.) I had a ridiculous amount of fun playing in bands, touring the United States and Europe, making tons of new friends, and basically being ridiculous.
But... what did I do?
Sure, yes... "I had a ridiculous amount of fun playing in bands, touring the United States and Europe, making tons of new friends, and basically being ridiculous."
But what did I do? What deeply mattered?
Graduating. Teaching. Owning my own business. Making people happy through music. Making good life-long friends. Helping to raise a little boy. Watching my students grow and become amazing adults.
That's what mattered.
Not the fact that at one point I could drink half a bottle of Jameson without batting an eye. Stay up late singing songs till my fingers bled. Getting attention I never had before as an awkward teenager. Driving all over creation always operating on half-awake status.
I hear that's how they do torture. They keep you half awake and delusional.
I can hear you. "Yeah, sure, that's great... what does this have to do with 'Thanksgiving Peonix?'"
Easy.
I finally had a chance to stop these past few days.
Park my car, and not move it for a while.
From 23 to 30, I had been making some really bad decisions in between some really good decisions. These past few months leading up to 30, I felt as if I had become a fireball burning out of control. Mass destruction. Everything coming to a fiery end.
I guess Billie Feather had to do with with as much gusto as humanely possible.
And this led to a cold night with me crying in my Loretta. Not even knowing what to feel or how to feel it. Taking it out on everyone. Completely and utterly selfish.
But that's your 20's, eh?
And what happened? Somehow one of the most amazing men in the universe managed to get me back into the house, to eat a piece of wonderful birthday cake, and start to calm the hell down.
The burning was stopping. The ashes were beginning to gather.
Since October 24th, the embers have grown cold. I have a rather lovely pile of mess at my feet.
And now, here, in my middle school/high school bedroom, I feel like a tiny baby bird.
Weak. Small. With big glossy eyes. Alone. Defenseless.
Which causes one to look inward.
Who is Billie?
What does she want?
You've crashed, you've burned, you've raised all hell, you've done it all that any self-respecting rebel would and could do...
But now what?
And here I am. Back to where I began. With words.
A tiny baby bird with her words.
A much smarter, more together bird, but a tiny bird. Fresh from the flames.
I like the phoenix idea. I like rebirth. Welcome to half of my cusp... the Scorpio.
Everyone has something they attach to. An element, a symbol, a movie character...
Mine's a fire bird.
I am weak. I have damaged myself. I have ruined things I hold dear.
But! In these past few days of stillness, I am healing. Raising from ashes. Learning to love myself and to recognize what it is that drives me. What makes my heart skip a beat. What makes my pulse race.
I decided to start looking back at the beginning and what made me happy as a little girl.
Writing. Dancing around the room to music. Strumming on my guitar. Watching the sunlight through the windows. Cowboy boots. Quilts. Performing on a stage. Making people happy.
As easily as I can navigate social situations, I'm an introvert. Maybe I'd been fighting that.
But, I like being still. It's nice.
Sure, I enjoy movement.
But, after burning, you become a little more cautious.
You value things more.
Images burn. They can't sustain. Strong foundations and strong buildings do not burn. They stand the test of time.
So, here I am, finding my foundation.
A tiny bird, learning to use the legs she burned up.
Accepting that I am going to be weak for a while, until I learn and earn the right to use my wings. To watch. To listen. To help others.
I am not a cartoon character from the realms of some dark honky tonk.
I am a girl born in the mountains of Pennsylvania in a mobile home. Raised surrounded by love, family, and wild open woods. My head reluctantly filled with values and morals. Lessons on how not to lie, and how to treat others as you wish to be treated. To nurture. To help others and things grow. Because when you don't have a lot, you value what you do have. You work for it. You work on it.
I am girl who loves country music from when I lived in Knoxville, Tennessee. I started my first country band in the 4th grade. (True story - we played the heck out of some pre-recorded Diamond Rio) It's in the water over there, I promise. :)
I am a girl who loved turning her amp up to 11, cranking the drive as loud as it would go, dressing in goth makeup, and playing punk rock. Learning how to wrangle a guitar much like you learn to wrangle a bull (I'm pretty darn good at mechanical bulls, by the way) and laughing the whole time.
I am girl who loved running through the woods with her friends in Granite Quarry, making up new trails and paths on my bike.
I am a classically trained guitarist, who worked her tail off to get her degree. I remember that awesome feeling when I got my piece of paper and thinking "If I can do this, I can do anything."
But... what are you now, little bird?
I'm a student. I'm back in school to be a teacher. To enrich others lives. To help them find happiness. I repair instruments, bring them back to life so someone else can find their joy. I'm no longer the bar fly (yes, I still love whiskey, bourbon, good beer, and the occasional gin and tonic AND LORD KNOWS I love a good jukebox). I no longer want to stay up until 6 am till my fingers bleed. I don't need a scene, newspaper, or anyone else to justify or explain my musical endeavors or myself. I am a musician, and I love the music I play. I only play music I love, with people I love. I don't have tattoos because I'm too busy paying off my musical instruments. (Not that I don't want one, or that I don't have a design that I've been sitting on for years...) I don't have the deepest southern drawl (although I've been south of the mason-dixon line since I was four). I have a military jacket with patches on it because I couldn't afford a bad ass punk rock motorcycle jacket when I was a teenager. I like sweaters and snap button shirts. I will damn well be buried in my cowgirl boots. I like all music. I adore lyricists.
Quite frankly, my dear... this little bird doesn't give a damn about what you think of me in the past.
What I do give a damn about is my friends. My loved ones. My family. My studies. My music. My honor. My integrity. My professionalism. My well being. My health. My future.
When you take time to think and reflect, you realize what matters. You grow. You take time to look in the mirror, see all the damages, and go... "Okay. All I can do is go forward from this point."
And there you have it.
I am thankful for the stillness.
I may have ruined everything in my burning, but now I am still.
Quiet.
Reflective.
Growing up, yet again.
I hope to goodness this helps someone be smarter than I was. Maybe we all have to go through it, but hopefully you won't make as many mistakes as I have.
For all my intelligence I like to think I have ( :) ), my emotional intelligence is clearly a little slower to catch up.
They never teach you emotions in school. Apparently you have to deal with those when you get older with a therapist. :D
But! Yes!
I am so thankful today. Thankful for my 30's. Thankful for growing up. Thankful for my awesome friends. Thankful for my family. Thankful for my fantastic bandmates. Thankful for words. Thankful for music. Thankful for the chance to be alive.
Hug your loved ones close. Life is short.
God bless you all, and goodnight.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Bridesmaid dresses.
Today was an interesting day.
It seems all events in my life converge suddenly.
The old "when it rains, it pours" deal.
Today was not only my four year anniversary with my boyfriend, but it was also his birthday, and the day that I helped my best friend Heather choose her wedding dress.
Oh my God.
My best friend chose her wedding dress.
I watched her mother cry.
As if in a movie. There was the woman I had known since I was in sixth grade, crying her for daughter.
Time moves so very fast.
When I look in the mirror, I still feel like a teenager. Sometimes, I am even mistaken for one. (YAY!) But moments like today remind me... no. You're a grown woman, and time moves very quickly.
My best friend Heather was so beautiful today. No, I didn't cry on the spot today... but I did on the drive home. My sweetie. My best friend. My one and only. Going off and getting married.
It's wonderful! It really is!
That she has met a man who she loves enough to say "yes" to.
I remember us as little (well, preteen) girls. Talking about Star Wars, Sailor Moon, David Bowie, The Monkees, everything! I remember looking over at her and thinking, "Yes. This is the only person in the whole wide world who will ever understand me. The only one who will ever accept me for who I am. All the way. No questions. She knows me better than I know myself." Stealing away at lunch hour in high school, to go sit on the Theatre Arts stage and eat lunch just the two of us, because we couldn't stand anyone else.
Boys, school, life couldn't tear us apart.
But today, watching her try on dresses... I couldn't help but be moved. My baby girl is all grown up.
I know, whatever. Girly BS.
But it's true. My partner in crime has found her partner. It's beautiful!
And she looked over at me, and said I needed to stand out since I was the Maid of Honor.
Honestly, when it comes to Heather, I never wanted to stand out. I just wanted to hide, like two girls on the theatre arts stage at East Rowan High. I don't mind standing out when it's a show... that part of me comes out... the outside Billie. But inside? I keep that pretty darn well guarded.
Because, honestly... who wants to talk about books, Star Wars, the latest anime, my new science fiction series, what gorgeous new dress we found, what constellation is currently in the southern sky, when the next meteor shower is, when soccer practice is going to be, the new guy on the swim team, my high school crushes, kendo, how best to dress up for the Aerosmith/Kiss concert, what new song I'm learning, writing a novel, sharing stories, how David Bowie and David Jones have the same name, how we're going to travel the world, what shade of blue she should paint her room, what the Ouija board said, that K-Mart had the Star Wars figure I was looking for, what eye-shadow is best for dark rocker makeup, how I was going to sneak out of the house, how it was okay to be who we are, that Sears had bellbottoms on sale, where did you get those cool new socks, how fast we went in the car around the Rowan county back roads, who could recite Monty Python lines, who could sing every part of The Labyrinth, quizzing each other on Star Wars malarky, how I wanted to move to England, work on our British accents so we could blend in, how we could change the drama club script to match our own desires, what the best flavor of ice cream was at Charlie's, check out my drawing that I was working on, that I just bought a pair of awesome black leather pants, talk trash about other girls that we didn't like, and generally dream about what our future was going to be like...
Heather always did. She always listened. She always accepted my craziness, and made me feel loved, whole, and okay with everything me.
When it's Heather? I don't want to stand out. I want to be just Billie. Hidden, proud, and happy of her special day. The ultimate support system. A pillar. A guardian.
I know... silly, huh?
You think little Miss "I'm gonna go play upright bass and do all these crazy motions with it!" would wanna stand out.
Not when it's "me".
But Heather knew me when I learned my first song on guitar. Heather knew me when I wrote my first song. Heather saw me before anyone did. Heather believed in me when no one else did. Heather made me feel okay.
"HEATHER! LISTEN! Check this out! Hear this guitar thing I did! I'm so happy!" And the phone was on the floor next to the guitar. "Can you hear it?" "Yes, Billie! *insert her wonderful laugh* I can hear it."
It's weird to think of myself as ever NOT having an instrument. Just being a girl that doodled and wrote in a journal and did crazy things just because.
She knew Billie before I was Billie. The dorky girl in braces and glasses. The one who made road runner calls down the hall and pissed everyone off. :) And she made the same road runner calls.
And there she was today... in a beautiful wedding gown.
I know... weddings are just silly technicalities. She's loved her man for a long time.
But, still.
I felt like the Doctor today.
I know, brace yourself, a Dr. Who reference! OMG!
Watching his companions go through life. Smiling that beautiful half smile and raising an eyebrow.
If you know what I am referencing to, you get it.
I know I am not loosing her, but gaining a brother. Another addition to the great big family of friends I have.
I don't let many people in my deep close circle. Very very few. Heather is my right hand. My partner in crime. My Super Monkette!
She's my oldest friend.
And she's going to be a beautiful bride. I am so proud to be in her wedding, and even prouder that she considers me special enough to be the Maid of Honor.
Yeah, so... I'm crying again.
Good Lord! Growing up is WEIRD.
I am thankful for all the wonderful friends and family I have that have helped me through the crazy times and stuck with me.
Everything changes. Everything comes and goes. Everything evolves.
It's the holding on that hurts. When the current starts tearing at you and you're still holding onto the same branch. It's a lot less painful and enjoyable if you just float. Enjoy the ride.
Heather and I will never be the same little ladies we once were. One of her bridesmaids had her daughter (flower girl!) along for the wedding dress picking. She kept giving me the biggest hugs. She was ADORABLE. And I kept thinking... we were once like that. Once little girls who loved glitter and pretty dresses. Sparkly things. Happy things. Uninhibited smiles... just beautiful.
But now we're older. Still the same happy smiles, but with a lot more living behind them. And, a lot more to go.
I'm so proud of the beautiful woman my friend heather has become, and proud that she is still in my life. What a beautiful bride she will be! Her finance is one lucky guy. The luckiest, I think!
Oh, and we talked about going paint balling in dresses for the bachelorette party. Cheers!
What's this week? More grad school goodness. Whoo! I feel like it never ends.
Hug the ones you love and call your dear friends. They're wonderful people and need to be reminded of how wonderful they are.
Adios for now, my lovelies.
Hugs,
~Billie.
It seems all events in my life converge suddenly.
The old "when it rains, it pours" deal.
Today was not only my four year anniversary with my boyfriend, but it was also his birthday, and the day that I helped my best friend Heather choose her wedding dress.
Oh my God.
My best friend chose her wedding dress.
I watched her mother cry.
As if in a movie. There was the woman I had known since I was in sixth grade, crying her for daughter.
Time moves so very fast.
When I look in the mirror, I still feel like a teenager. Sometimes, I am even mistaken for one. (YAY!) But moments like today remind me... no. You're a grown woman, and time moves very quickly.
My best friend Heather was so beautiful today. No, I didn't cry on the spot today... but I did on the drive home. My sweetie. My best friend. My one and only. Going off and getting married.
It's wonderful! It really is!
That she has met a man who she loves enough to say "yes" to.
I remember us as little (well, preteen) girls. Talking about Star Wars, Sailor Moon, David Bowie, The Monkees, everything! I remember looking over at her and thinking, "Yes. This is the only person in the whole wide world who will ever understand me. The only one who will ever accept me for who I am. All the way. No questions. She knows me better than I know myself." Stealing away at lunch hour in high school, to go sit on the Theatre Arts stage and eat lunch just the two of us, because we couldn't stand anyone else.
Boys, school, life couldn't tear us apart.
But today, watching her try on dresses... I couldn't help but be moved. My baby girl is all grown up.
I know, whatever. Girly BS.
But it's true. My partner in crime has found her partner. It's beautiful!
And she looked over at me, and said I needed to stand out since I was the Maid of Honor.
Honestly, when it comes to Heather, I never wanted to stand out. I just wanted to hide, like two girls on the theatre arts stage at East Rowan High. I don't mind standing out when it's a show... that part of me comes out... the outside Billie. But inside? I keep that pretty darn well guarded.
Because, honestly... who wants to talk about books, Star Wars, the latest anime, my new science fiction series, what gorgeous new dress we found, what constellation is currently in the southern sky, when the next meteor shower is, when soccer practice is going to be, the new guy on the swim team, my high school crushes, kendo, how best to dress up for the Aerosmith/Kiss concert, what new song I'm learning, writing a novel, sharing stories, how David Bowie and David Jones have the same name, how we're going to travel the world, what shade of blue she should paint her room, what the Ouija board said, that K-Mart had the Star Wars figure I was looking for, what eye-shadow is best for dark rocker makeup, how I was going to sneak out of the house, how it was okay to be who we are, that Sears had bellbottoms on sale, where did you get those cool new socks, how fast we went in the car around the Rowan county back roads, who could recite Monty Python lines, who could sing every part of The Labyrinth, quizzing each other on Star Wars malarky, how I wanted to move to England, work on our British accents so we could blend in, how we could change the drama club script to match our own desires, what the best flavor of ice cream was at Charlie's, check out my drawing that I was working on, that I just bought a pair of awesome black leather pants, talk trash about other girls that we didn't like, and generally dream about what our future was going to be like...
Heather always did. She always listened. She always accepted my craziness, and made me feel loved, whole, and okay with everything me.
When it's Heather? I don't want to stand out. I want to be just Billie. Hidden, proud, and happy of her special day. The ultimate support system. A pillar. A guardian.
I know... silly, huh?
You think little Miss "I'm gonna go play upright bass and do all these crazy motions with it!" would wanna stand out.
Not when it's "me".
But Heather knew me when I learned my first song on guitar. Heather knew me when I wrote my first song. Heather saw me before anyone did. Heather believed in me when no one else did. Heather made me feel okay.
"HEATHER! LISTEN! Check this out! Hear this guitar thing I did! I'm so happy!" And the phone was on the floor next to the guitar. "Can you hear it?" "Yes, Billie! *insert her wonderful laugh* I can hear it."
It's weird to think of myself as ever NOT having an instrument. Just being a girl that doodled and wrote in a journal and did crazy things just because.
She knew Billie before I was Billie. The dorky girl in braces and glasses. The one who made road runner calls down the hall and pissed everyone off. :) And she made the same road runner calls.
And there she was today... in a beautiful wedding gown.
I know... weddings are just silly technicalities. She's loved her man for a long time.
But, still.
I felt like the Doctor today.
I know, brace yourself, a Dr. Who reference! OMG!
Watching his companions go through life. Smiling that beautiful half smile and raising an eyebrow.
If you know what I am referencing to, you get it.
I know I am not loosing her, but gaining a brother. Another addition to the great big family of friends I have.
I don't let many people in my deep close circle. Very very few. Heather is my right hand. My partner in crime. My Super Monkette!
She's my oldest friend.
And she's going to be a beautiful bride. I am so proud to be in her wedding, and even prouder that she considers me special enough to be the Maid of Honor.
Yeah, so... I'm crying again.
Good Lord! Growing up is WEIRD.
I am thankful for all the wonderful friends and family I have that have helped me through the crazy times and stuck with me.
Everything changes. Everything comes and goes. Everything evolves.
It's the holding on that hurts. When the current starts tearing at you and you're still holding onto the same branch. It's a lot less painful and enjoyable if you just float. Enjoy the ride.
Heather and I will never be the same little ladies we once were. One of her bridesmaids had her daughter (flower girl!) along for the wedding dress picking. She kept giving me the biggest hugs. She was ADORABLE. And I kept thinking... we were once like that. Once little girls who loved glitter and pretty dresses. Sparkly things. Happy things. Uninhibited smiles... just beautiful.
But now we're older. Still the same happy smiles, but with a lot more living behind them. And, a lot more to go.
I'm so proud of the beautiful woman my friend heather has become, and proud that she is still in my life. What a beautiful bride she will be! Her finance is one lucky guy. The luckiest, I think!
Oh, and we talked about going paint balling in dresses for the bachelorette party. Cheers!
What's this week? More grad school goodness. Whoo! I feel like it never ends.
Hug the ones you love and call your dear friends. They're wonderful people and need to be reminded of how wonderful they are.
Adios for now, my lovelies.
Hugs,
~Billie.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Hey You.
How have you been?
If you were here I'd offer you a cup of coffee and a piece of my fantastic quilt that my mother made for me for Christmas.
Quilts are like resonator banjos to me - the heavier they are the better they are. This quilt is like an old Gibson banjo in other words. Only my mom just made it for me for Christmas.
And, yes, I just used a musical instrument to describe something.
Yes, I do that often, I know.
Have I said how good it is to see you again?
Let's paint a picture.
It's... oh.... 20 something degrees outside, our road is still solid ice along with it's buddy the driveway and we're kinda stuck until it warms up. Not so bad. The sky is that well-known milky snow sky color, and everything is just still for the moment. It reminds me of the Feather farmhouse in the winter before everyone wakes up.
At this point, I would like to thank my father, The Eagle Scout, for teaching me how to build a proper fire. For those of you that don't know, prepare to be enlightened... http://www.wikihow.com/Build-a-Fire. Nothing like Dr. Who and a roaring fire. Yes ma'am!
I just found out that there are only two seasons (Well, one full season and a bunch of specials) with my favorite Dr. Who, David Tennant (oh, let's have another one!). I'm vetoing Matt Smith although I have been told by several of my Dr. Who counterparts that I should give him a chance and that he is quite good.
GIVE HIM A CHANCE?! Oh yes, there's a good idea. The Dr. Who you're really into just packs up and leaves, regenerates and all that rubbish, and yeah... it's all okay, right? HELL NAW! I need some time! I ain't no Rose Tyler! (Although, if my Doctor did regenerate into David Tennant I'd be like..."Okay, this one is okay. He can stay.") I stick by my man!...ah hem... Doctor.
Have you figured out I am a mega nerd yet? If not, well, it's kinda the way it goes. Might as well shake hands, accept the fact, and move on. I have a Star Wars coffee mug sitting right next to me at the moment. Because Billie Feather had to dress up in everything Star Wars to ride the Star Wars ride at MGM Studios when she was a little teenager. At least I had fun!
Maybe not a mega nerd... I like sci-fi stuff. "Like" like a big old stuffed animal of sci-fi I could cuddle with and nuzzle my nose into.
Clearly the coffee just hit me. Damn you organic Rain-forest Blend! I wonder what else is in that rain-forest...
ANYWAYS.
A snow day is most certainly welcome as of late. There's so much going on my head hurts. John's back in school, which has changed our relationship dynamic. Not in a bad way, just... you know... an evolution of sorts. I'm really proud of him for stepping up to the challenge. I'm filling out applications and getting ready for my audition at Central University for yet another guitar degree - but this time I'm not stopping until I have a doctorate. Unless, of course, some crazy thing happens along the way. What in the holy heck am I gonna do with a doctorate in music? Teach at a university, and happily spend the rest of my days playing music in a Frank Lloyd Wright type house mixed with some ideas from Myst, and more than a touch of Japanese temple architecture. With a library/record room. Maybe even get a dog. By the time I am 39 (EEEPP!!!) I should have it all in order. (Maybe?)
I leave Sunday night straight from a show to Clarksdale, Mississippi with my father (he's being a real trooper, and being the second driver). I'm recording a bunch of blues songs with a bunch of really talented singers. It should be a lot of fun.
After that I believe I will be at The Thirsty Beaver (I love Mark and Brian, I hope we all grow old together!) with (GASP!) the bo-stevens for Super Bowl Sunday (No STEELERS?! Booooo. I'm wearing my Steelers jersey anyways. Probably bring my Dad too since I am neglecting our annual Superbowl Party duties by playing a show.) Come on over and say hello. Maybe help me boo the Patriots. Why? Because of Tom Brady. Why do I not like Tom Brady? I dunno, he's just fun to pick on because he has no other real issues in life. He beat the Steelers once. UNCOOL.
But then THE STEELERS SHOULD HAVE DONE BETTER. Step it up boys, step it up!
Not that I can throw a football to save my life. But I can wear the heck out of a jersey and kick a soccer ball!
I have mad soccer skills.
Not really, but I like to pretend I do.
It's nice having a five/six year old around to play soccer whenever you want. And he never gets tired. "Hey Little D! Let's play soccer!" "Okay, Big B!" Nice.
I can, however, swim team with the best of them.
Coffee refill! BRB.
doo, doo, doop, da, doo...
BACK!
Well, it looks like the Billie Feather and the Hallway Waltz are coming into the world. I've got a wonderful bassist and drummer on board, and I'm looking for a multi-instrmentalist/harmony (Chapel Hill/Durham/Raleigh area?) singer to round it out. What's it gonna be like? Folky/Americanay/Punky something. It's basically all the songs I've been writing since I picked up a guitar finally having a place to go. I've had a ton of people ask me about my own stuff lately, and I thought... well, I guess a little low pressure, low commitment thing wouldn't be so bad. It also gives John a bit of breathing room since he needs more time to focus on school.
Speaking of all that, The Rosewood Bluff has a TON of awesome shows lined up. Cash Bash Winston-Salem being one of them (I'll be playing bass not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES in one night!). I'm waiting until after Clarksdale to get my head back in the Rosewood Bluff game, and I'm sure you'll hear all about them on the John Howie Jr. and The Rosewood Bluff facebook page.
The P-90's?! Still kicking! We're doing a show with The Bleeding Hearts at The Cave in Chapel Hill on February 8th. So, if you like spead-up old school rock and roll, (what we like to think of as 70's punk) it's the show to be at. And The Cave makes you feel like you're in the band. :)
All right. Gonna take a shower and get to it. Maybe try to see if the roads are open enough to make it to Waffle House. Mmmm... maybe. I can hear Loretta the Volvo saying "NUH-UH!" from here.
And, yes, coffee in the shower. Or tea, as my cousin likes it.
Love, love, love,
~Billie.
PS- It's still cold outside. Brrr!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Ben Gibbard and Awesome Punkness.
No, Ben Gibbard didn't bring out his awesome punk band. (Although that would be fantastic as well, I am sure.)
Instead, he brought two guitars (an Epiphone and Gibson to be exact) and put pickups in the piano from the coffee shop upstairs in the Haw River Ballroom and sold out one of the most beautiful venues in the SouthEast.
Where did I get to sit? THE FRONT FREAKING ROW.
I mean, really, the only way I could have been closer would have been to be up on stage with him.
It's weird.
There are some musicians that I want so desperately to rock out with on stage, get inside the show, and help them rule a venue for a night. Like a little army of musical goodness.
As an aside, I am lucky. I've pretty much had the chance to play music - even if it's just a few minutes - with everyone I have ever dreamed I would make music with. (That's still living on this plane of existence that is.) Except maybe Loretta Lynn... but Jack White is close enough. :)
AND THAT WAS FREAKING AWESOME. But anyways.
Back to what I was talking about...
There are some musicians I would never want to rock out with on stage.
(I know... SAY WHAT?!)
Ben Gibbard is one of those guys.
I have ADORED his songwriting since I first heard "Such Great Heights" on a mix CD that a boy in high school gave me as a present (I know... mix CD's! Almost as old school as mix tapes!) back before iTunes made it easy to give the person you love a CD of rare and fantastic love songs. I heard that song and decided that I had heard the most perfect love song ever written. No really. I had no idea who it was, no idea what band it could be, and we didn't have "SoundHound" to help figure out a song.
And, at that time, it was too new to be found on the internet. BAM! Can you imagine that time ever existed?
It should be noted at this point I had not heard the entire Beatles catalog yet, nor ventured into the world of popular music very much, so this random love song on this mix CD was a huge deal.
Sitting down with my guitar in my college practice room (Yes, I should have been working on classical guitar studies, but instead) I found myself playing that song over and over again until I finally figured it out. Delighted, my favorite love song was now mine. It wasn't until months later that I figured out who wrote it.
Let's flash ahead, shall we?
I'm front row at The Haw River Ballroom... dork-face Billie was super prepared with her cup of coffee at the ready to sit and listen all night long. It's a little strange being on the other side for once.
Ben starts his set, and begins it with... what? Yup. "Such Great Heights".
He may have done that to save the crowd from shouting it over and over and over again until he played it and causing general distraction, but it caught me off guard.
There it was. The song I'd spend hours going over in a practice room, trying to figure out exactly how the songwriter would have played it... right in front of me. "Farmer chords" and all. Perfect.
I'm sure I looked like a complete fool with my head tilted and smiling the whole time, but it was exactly what I wanted. A cup of coffee, a guitar, and one of my favorite songwriters.
Sure, I love a big stage show. I fell in love with Aerosmith at a young age on the Nine Lives tour with all the pyrotechnics and stage flair and I love punk music with all it's crazyawesomefunness. (I'm tossing this "L" word around like it's nobody's business, huh? Meh. Not my problem. :) )
But... bring it back to it's most simple point and it reminds me of that moment when the elegant solution is finally found. When the puzzle in finally solved. That missing piece finally slips into place.
Simple chords, a box of wood with six strings, someone to play it, and one person.
Perfect.
Elegant, simple, and perfect.
I'd have it no other way.
I've put off seeing him in Death Cab for Cutie or one of his other fantastic incarnations, just because I remember that moment in my practice room with me and guitar. I wanted to see that, yes, my favorite songs started out the way that my songs do - just a person and an instrument. Nothing else. No fancy clothes, no beautiful boots, no million dollar sound system, so perfect make up...
...just a person and their instrument of destruction.
Yeah, I think that's how John ultimately won me over. Sitting on the couch, he'd call out to me the magic words,
"Hey, can I play something for you?"
It's as if someone just invited to me a priceless musical concert for two. At that moment, I'm the most luckiest girl in the entire universe.
I'd hear all my music that way if I could. Maybe that's why I'm attracted to minimalist music, or music taken down the the bare elements... power trios, duos, solo acts - there's something really special there. Maybe that's why I love teaching one on one. There's magic and power there. It's the foundation, and without a solid foundation the whole structure falls, no matter how fantastic it is.
So, adoration of my boyfriend and Ben Gibbard aside... what did I take away from the concert?
Happiness.
I have a guitar, I can play some chords, and I like to write.
Why did I ever stop doing that? Why did I ever put that to the side in pursuit of other things?
Not saying that those other things are not worth it, but part of me has been missing something.
The part that will always be satisfied with just a guitar, notebook, and pen.
Sure! My songs may go NOWHERE. No one might care, no one might ever come to one of my solo concerts, nor book one.
But I don't care. They have this wonderful outlet now where you can record yourself and put it out on the internet for all to see. All the shame and all the glory. No one may care, but years from now... I still will. And that's what makes me feel whole, strong, and able to face the whole world every day.
So, yeah, the punk band. Where does that fit?
I've been putting of the punk band for a number of reasons... Dillon's family moved away and we were unsure as to what was going on, Josh talked about changing jobs and was in the middle of a move to a new place, and John and I were wrapped up in The Rosewood Bluff and our own lives.
We met for the first time in months on Saturday, and... I must say... it's like that band has evolved light years. Maybe it's that old saying - set something free, and if it comes back, it was always yours and meant to be. So, there were three were, in Josh's new pad, drinking coffee like the old days and going through the set list for the upcoming shows. Josh is telling me how he discovered that the recording of our new cover was different from the tab online (BWAH?! Is this our bassist talking?!), and Dillon nailed the solo in... oh... ten minutes?
So, if you get the chance, stop on by one of our upcoming shows. The P-90's are really getting good.
Maybe it took a lung infection on my part (Yeah, try going through one of the biggest auditions of your life with no freaking voice, and having to cancel a bunch of important shows... it'll humble the "rock star" outta you real quick) and stepping away from the band, going through some crazy life changing, and general quarter-life crisises for a while for all of us to get our war game perfected and really appreciate the music we make.
I mean, really... we're all very lucky. We get the chance to do what we love and want to do. Not many people get to that point.
So, that's what I felt last night sitting in the front row. Very lucky and very thankful. Sometimes life gives you those wonderful, beautiful, perfect moments that you never dreamed would happen. When the light breaks through and the puzzle is solved. The equation makes sense. The Ah-ha Moment.
There was my favorite love song... played on a guitar by the gentleman that wrote it less than five feet away from me. Sure, he missed a chord, but it made it that much more real. I felt the most vulnerable I have ever felt sharing that moment with a sold out room of people, and that took a while to work out in my head... but... yes, this moment really happening. I never need to meet Ben, shake his hand, or tell him how much I admire his songwriting. I just needed that moment. Clock out and call it a sucessful day.
It reminded me of hearing John sit on the couch and play my favorite songs. Just sheer joy beyond explanation. All the years of hearing a sonic recording... all those collectors who try so hard and spend so much money to get the recordings to sound as real as possible...
...it's never as good as the real thing, I hate to break it to you. :) In all the heartbreak and awe of realization, nothing is as fantastic as seeing happen with your own eyes and ears. I've been rather blessed by this crazy universe.
I remember when my college buddy Heather Wible would look and me daily and ask... "What is your most beautiful thing of the day?".
What a lovely way to look at life.
Speaking of which, I have business to attend to known as bedtime.
Until we meet again!
Hugs,
~Billie.
Instead, he brought two guitars (an Epiphone and Gibson to be exact) and put pickups in the piano from the coffee shop upstairs in the Haw River Ballroom and sold out one of the most beautiful venues in the SouthEast.
Where did I get to sit? THE FRONT FREAKING ROW.
I mean, really, the only way I could have been closer would have been to be up on stage with him.
It's weird.
There are some musicians that I want so desperately to rock out with on stage, get inside the show, and help them rule a venue for a night. Like a little army of musical goodness.
As an aside, I am lucky. I've pretty much had the chance to play music - even if it's just a few minutes - with everyone I have ever dreamed I would make music with. (That's still living on this plane of existence that is.) Except maybe Loretta Lynn... but Jack White is close enough. :)
AND THAT WAS FREAKING AWESOME. But anyways.
Back to what I was talking about...
There are some musicians I would never want to rock out with on stage.
(I know... SAY WHAT?!)
Ben Gibbard is one of those guys.
I have ADORED his songwriting since I first heard "Such Great Heights" on a mix CD that a boy in high school gave me as a present (I know... mix CD's! Almost as old school as mix tapes!) back before iTunes made it easy to give the person you love a CD of rare and fantastic love songs. I heard that song and decided that I had heard the most perfect love song ever written. No really. I had no idea who it was, no idea what band it could be, and we didn't have "SoundHound" to help figure out a song.
And, at that time, it was too new to be found on the internet. BAM! Can you imagine that time ever existed?
It should be noted at this point I had not heard the entire Beatles catalog yet, nor ventured into the world of popular music very much, so this random love song on this mix CD was a huge deal.
Sitting down with my guitar in my college practice room (Yes, I should have been working on classical guitar studies, but instead) I found myself playing that song over and over again until I finally figured it out. Delighted, my favorite love song was now mine. It wasn't until months later that I figured out who wrote it.
Let's flash ahead, shall we?
I'm front row at The Haw River Ballroom... dork-face Billie was super prepared with her cup of coffee at the ready to sit and listen all night long. It's a little strange being on the other side for once.
Ben starts his set, and begins it with... what? Yup. "Such Great Heights".
He may have done that to save the crowd from shouting it over and over and over again until he played it and causing general distraction, but it caught me off guard.
There it was. The song I'd spend hours going over in a practice room, trying to figure out exactly how the songwriter would have played it... right in front of me. "Farmer chords" and all. Perfect.
I'm sure I looked like a complete fool with my head tilted and smiling the whole time, but it was exactly what I wanted. A cup of coffee, a guitar, and one of my favorite songwriters.
Sure, I love a big stage show. I fell in love with Aerosmith at a young age on the Nine Lives tour with all the pyrotechnics and stage flair and I love punk music with all it's crazyawesomefunness. (I'm tossing this "L" word around like it's nobody's business, huh? Meh. Not my problem. :) )
But... bring it back to it's most simple point and it reminds me of that moment when the elegant solution is finally found. When the puzzle in finally solved. That missing piece finally slips into place.
Simple chords, a box of wood with six strings, someone to play it, and one person.
Perfect.
Elegant, simple, and perfect.
I'd have it no other way.
I've put off seeing him in Death Cab for Cutie or one of his other fantastic incarnations, just because I remember that moment in my practice room with me and guitar. I wanted to see that, yes, my favorite songs started out the way that my songs do - just a person and an instrument. Nothing else. No fancy clothes, no beautiful boots, no million dollar sound system, so perfect make up...
...just a person and their instrument of destruction.
Yeah, I think that's how John ultimately won me over. Sitting on the couch, he'd call out to me the magic words,
"Hey, can I play something for you?"
It's as if someone just invited to me a priceless musical concert for two. At that moment, I'm the most luckiest girl in the entire universe.
I'd hear all my music that way if I could. Maybe that's why I'm attracted to minimalist music, or music taken down the the bare elements... power trios, duos, solo acts - there's something really special there. Maybe that's why I love teaching one on one. There's magic and power there. It's the foundation, and without a solid foundation the whole structure falls, no matter how fantastic it is.
So, adoration of my boyfriend and Ben Gibbard aside... what did I take away from the concert?
Happiness.
I have a guitar, I can play some chords, and I like to write.
Why did I ever stop doing that? Why did I ever put that to the side in pursuit of other things?
Not saying that those other things are not worth it, but part of me has been missing something.
The part that will always be satisfied with just a guitar, notebook, and pen.
Sure! My songs may go NOWHERE. No one might care, no one might ever come to one of my solo concerts, nor book one.
But I don't care. They have this wonderful outlet now where you can record yourself and put it out on the internet for all to see. All the shame and all the glory. No one may care, but years from now... I still will. And that's what makes me feel whole, strong, and able to face the whole world every day.
So, yeah, the punk band. Where does that fit?
I've been putting of the punk band for a number of reasons... Dillon's family moved away and we were unsure as to what was going on, Josh talked about changing jobs and was in the middle of a move to a new place, and John and I were wrapped up in The Rosewood Bluff and our own lives.
We met for the first time in months on Saturday, and... I must say... it's like that band has evolved light years. Maybe it's that old saying - set something free, and if it comes back, it was always yours and meant to be. So, there were three were, in Josh's new pad, drinking coffee like the old days and going through the set list for the upcoming shows. Josh is telling me how he discovered that the recording of our new cover was different from the tab online (BWAH?! Is this our bassist talking?!), and Dillon nailed the solo in... oh... ten minutes?
So, if you get the chance, stop on by one of our upcoming shows. The P-90's are really getting good.
Maybe it took a lung infection on my part (Yeah, try going through one of the biggest auditions of your life with no freaking voice, and having to cancel a bunch of important shows... it'll humble the "rock star" outta you real quick) and stepping away from the band, going through some crazy life changing, and general quarter-life crisises for a while for all of us to get our war game perfected and really appreciate the music we make.
I mean, really... we're all very lucky. We get the chance to do what we love and want to do. Not many people get to that point.
So, that's what I felt last night sitting in the front row. Very lucky and very thankful. Sometimes life gives you those wonderful, beautiful, perfect moments that you never dreamed would happen. When the light breaks through and the puzzle is solved. The equation makes sense. The Ah-ha Moment.
There was my favorite love song... played on a guitar by the gentleman that wrote it less than five feet away from me. Sure, he missed a chord, but it made it that much more real. I felt the most vulnerable I have ever felt sharing that moment with a sold out room of people, and that took a while to work out in my head... but... yes, this moment really happening. I never need to meet Ben, shake his hand, or tell him how much I admire his songwriting. I just needed that moment. Clock out and call it a sucessful day.
It reminded me of hearing John sit on the couch and play my favorite songs. Just sheer joy beyond explanation. All the years of hearing a sonic recording... all those collectors who try so hard and spend so much money to get the recordings to sound as real as possible...
...it's never as good as the real thing, I hate to break it to you. :) In all the heartbreak and awe of realization, nothing is as fantastic as seeing happen with your own eyes and ears. I've been rather blessed by this crazy universe.
I remember when my college buddy Heather Wible would look and me daily and ask... "What is your most beautiful thing of the day?".
What a lovely way to look at life.
Speaking of which, I have business to attend to known as bedtime.
Until we meet again!
Hugs,
~Billie.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Thursday, Take Two!
Hey! Look! I did it!
Isn't it three times, and it's a habit? One more week, and I'll be a regular Thursday blogger!
I don't have long. My brain is on shut-down mode, and it's almost past my bed time. There's a huge conference at The Haw River Ballroom tomorrow (Switchpoint, I believe - someone correct me if I'm wrong), so I'm getting up early to help for a few hours, before heading to the repair shop, then back to Winston-Salem to teach, then BACK to Chapel Hill to play the Cave. Dinner happens somewhere in between, I promise.
And my car has started to idle funny (miles, maybe? Hmmm, clearly my car didn't ask for my lifestyle). Not looking forward to checking that one... but I'll figure something out.
What's happened in the past week?
I have new contacts!!!! HURRAY!!! I can finally see again! Thank you Downtown Winston Eye Care Center for being so gosh darn convenient. I didn't have time to navigate Stratford Road (yay traffic) but the new location is pretty sweet.
I'm also super excited because I finally have dual P-90's in my Les Paul. YEEEEHAWW! I didn't get the chance to crank up The Evil Twin at my studio, but I did get to hear it on a clean setting, and, boy... those pickups don't mess around.
May I guitar-nerd for a moment? You can sit back and let your eyes glaze over for a second until I get this out. This won't take long.
So, I ordered the pickups from Lindy Fralin (they're the best I've heard out of the repair shop so far... the Lollars are pretty spectacular too), but Lindy's 1950's P-90's are my favorite for the chainsaw grind and high end scream I'm going for. It looks like he even baked them for me after I gave him the description of wanting to sound as much like Johnny Thunders on LAMF without losing some 50's retro-ness. Nicely done, Sir! The only thing I miss on the Fralin's is the fact that you can get the Lollars with your name inscribed on the back of the pickup, it's a pretty cool touch, I must admit. Kind of reminds me of getting one's ipod engraved. :D Oh, and they hum cancel if you put it on the middle pickup setting. Awwww yeah. For those extra quiet moments. (Bwah?! In a punk band?!)
Through the routing process (no, that part I didn't do... I don't trust myself to rout my own guitar. Plus, if I mess up I'm the one that has to look at it and curse myself forever - no thanks!) the discovery was made that, indeed, I luckily obtained one of the maple top/mahogany bottom-ed Studios. MEGA score. Take that, Les Paul Standard!!!
Back to other things, besides my really beautiful, awesome sounding guitar - (Hey, I've waited on this mod for a loooooonnnng time, I have to boast just a little - he's my little sports car I'm gonna drive around town on Sunday just because I can) -
THIS WEEKEND'S SHOW REPORT! (cue theme music... I'm envisioning the Star Wars opening theme...)
Friday -
The P-90's are back at The Cave with The Pheurotics (our other band had to cancel, so they stepped up to the plate!) and the rock starts at 10:00 PM. New pickups included. Come make a fool of yourself and have a blast - that's what punk shows are for. We're here for you.
Saturday -
RECORD STORE DAY!!! Whoopie! John Howie Jr. and The Rosewood Bluff are doing an in-store during the day at SchoolKids Records in Raleigh as part of the festivities, and I'm too tired to remember the exact time. Keep an eye on The Rosewood Bluff facebook page for up to the minute details. It's an entire upright bass set, so it's a rare Bluff moment indeed. And... my first record store in store. I'm elated.
Apparently, John is taking me on a date Saturday evening. We're going to see a real live movie and a have a real live night to ourselves. Rare!
Sunday -
Band pictures for the Rosewood Bluff (FINALLY HAPPENING, if it doesn't rain on us) and a show at The Nightlight with Joe Fletcher and the Wrong Reasons. This should be an absolute blast. Come join us!
Then, it's back to normal on Monday. Normal being working in a guitar repair/building shop. Not too bad.
It seems like everyone in Chapel Hill who owns a Taylor guitar had decided to smash through the back of them, or at least that's what I've been doing a lot of lately - so fair warning for all you Taylor owners... :)
BEDTIME. Gotta go.
Love to you and yours, wherever you are.
~Billie. (and her rekindled love affair for her Les Paul)
Isn't it three times, and it's a habit? One more week, and I'll be a regular Thursday blogger!
I don't have long. My brain is on shut-down mode, and it's almost past my bed time. There's a huge conference at The Haw River Ballroom tomorrow (Switchpoint, I believe - someone correct me if I'm wrong), so I'm getting up early to help for a few hours, before heading to the repair shop, then back to Winston-Salem to teach, then BACK to Chapel Hill to play the Cave. Dinner happens somewhere in between, I promise.
And my car has started to idle funny (miles, maybe? Hmmm, clearly my car didn't ask for my lifestyle). Not looking forward to checking that one... but I'll figure something out.
What's happened in the past week?
I have new contacts!!!! HURRAY!!! I can finally see again! Thank you Downtown Winston Eye Care Center for being so gosh darn convenient. I didn't have time to navigate Stratford Road (yay traffic) but the new location is pretty sweet.
I'm also super excited because I finally have dual P-90's in my Les Paul. YEEEEHAWW! I didn't get the chance to crank up The Evil Twin at my studio, but I did get to hear it on a clean setting, and, boy... those pickups don't mess around.
May I guitar-nerd for a moment? You can sit back and let your eyes glaze over for a second until I get this out. This won't take long.
So, I ordered the pickups from Lindy Fralin (they're the best I've heard out of the repair shop so far... the Lollars are pretty spectacular too), but Lindy's 1950's P-90's are my favorite for the chainsaw grind and high end scream I'm going for. It looks like he even baked them for me after I gave him the description of wanting to sound as much like Johnny Thunders on LAMF without losing some 50's retro-ness. Nicely done, Sir! The only thing I miss on the Fralin's is the fact that you can get the Lollars with your name inscribed on the back of the pickup, it's a pretty cool touch, I must admit. Kind of reminds me of getting one's ipod engraved. :D Oh, and they hum cancel if you put it on the middle pickup setting. Awwww yeah. For those extra quiet moments. (Bwah?! In a punk band?!)
Through the routing process (no, that part I didn't do... I don't trust myself to rout my own guitar. Plus, if I mess up I'm the one that has to look at it and curse myself forever - no thanks!) the discovery was made that, indeed, I luckily obtained one of the maple top/mahogany bottom-ed Studios. MEGA score. Take that, Les Paul Standard!!!
Back to other things, besides my really beautiful, awesome sounding guitar - (Hey, I've waited on this mod for a loooooonnnng time, I have to boast just a little - he's my little sports car I'm gonna drive around town on Sunday just because I can) -
THIS WEEKEND'S SHOW REPORT! (cue theme music... I'm envisioning the Star Wars opening theme...)
Friday -
The P-90's are back at The Cave with The Pheurotics (our other band had to cancel, so they stepped up to the plate!) and the rock starts at 10:00 PM. New pickups included. Come make a fool of yourself and have a blast - that's what punk shows are for. We're here for you.
Saturday -
RECORD STORE DAY!!! Whoopie! John Howie Jr. and The Rosewood Bluff are doing an in-store during the day at SchoolKids Records in Raleigh as part of the festivities, and I'm too tired to remember the exact time. Keep an eye on The Rosewood Bluff facebook page for up to the minute details. It's an entire upright bass set, so it's a rare Bluff moment indeed. And... my first record store in store. I'm elated.
Apparently, John is taking me on a date Saturday evening. We're going to see a real live movie and a have a real live night to ourselves. Rare!
Sunday -
Band pictures for the Rosewood Bluff (FINALLY HAPPENING, if it doesn't rain on us) and a show at The Nightlight with Joe Fletcher and the Wrong Reasons. This should be an absolute blast. Come join us!
Then, it's back to normal on Monday. Normal being working in a guitar repair/building shop. Not too bad.
It seems like everyone in Chapel Hill who owns a Taylor guitar had decided to smash through the back of them, or at least that's what I've been doing a lot of lately - so fair warning for all you Taylor owners... :)
BEDTIME. Gotta go.
Love to you and yours, wherever you are.
~Billie. (and her rekindled love affair for her Les Paul)
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Bluffycakes and Thirsty Beavers.
Hey again. Yeah, it's been a while... but I told you I'd come back, didn't I?
So, Thursday is going to be "blog day". I've put in on my calendar, marked it in ink, highlighted it, and made it a date for myself. Hopefully this time it will stick.
WHEW!
Crazy. Where to start? I've given myself 30 minutes, and the clock's ticking.
I'm also doing this at the same time "SoundCloud" is loading and attempting to find my musical friends. Well, it's crashing. Apparently, I have the amount of musical friends on my Facebook account that would cause a website to crash. :) That's a wonderful thing! I'm lucky to have so many musically inclined buddies.
You can do it, little website!
My mom keeps bugging me to do Hallway Waltz stuff (as does my brain, since I tend to lose my favorite punk songs all over the house. GRRR! Don't worry, they're coming. Eventually. I promise.
So, where am I?
In Winston-Salem, sitting at Krankies Coffee downtown (I work for the other Krankies, the one in the silver airstream - Yeehaw!) and allowing my brain time to wind down from teaching, repairing, and driving all over creation.
Earlier today, I'm driving down Franklin Street (because all the secret back ways through Chapel Hill are currently being "worked on" in some form or another) which allows me time to almost crash into the car in front of me several times due to my attention deficit people watching. A guy passes by the car in a punk rock vest with an awesome Misfits back patch. Before I could snap a picture and send it to John, the car behind be decides to honk at me for not moving fast enough down a pedestrian laden street. I wave.
Chapel Hill would not be complete without someone honking at me in frustration daily. I've learned to embrace it and laugh about it. I'm also getting a water gun soon to squirt at them.
That's not assault, is it? I mean, it's just water... and it's just a car window... right?
ANYWAYS.
Proof that Franklin Street's proud punks are coming out of the wood works and starting/restarting/joining/rejoining the scene revolution. I love it! Take that, naysayers!!!!!
And there was that girl with the awesome cowgirl boots. Party on, my dear.
Enough about Franklin Street!
Shows.
Friday found me at the Cave playing bass with STAG (Micheal Rank's band, formerly of Snatches of Pink - John showed me the MTV episode of him and Sara Romweber. I wanted to steal Micheal's boots and Sara's hair!) with Mr. Howie Jr. on drums. It's the first time John and I have gotten to be a rhythm section together, and we had a BLAST. Normally, it's him telling me what to do (kinda) or me telling him what to do (I try, doesn't work so well :) ) but it was a fantastic change of pace to have us both in the backline. It gave us a chance to make funny faces at each other, or have me smile at his cues/drum faces. The show went well, and we had a good crowd. What a fun night!
Saturday was a long day - we woke up from a late night ("What time do we have to be in Winston again, Billie?" "Oh, we have to leave in an hour." Grumblegrumblegrumbleshowergetdressedloadthecar) only to be shuffed to Winston-Salem to play PhuzzPhest. We were the first act on a 1:00 on Saturday. One of my students turned up and it made my day! The P-90's played really well (go team!) and I was impressed by everyone's ability to be awake and ready to play the show. I'm blessed to be in such great bands. John's drum gear took some rigging (meh, it's punk rock!) but ultimately it went off without a problem, even with poor Dillon recovering from having an organ removed only days before. It was the first time we've played PhuzzPhest, and I hope we'll get to do it again next year! I hung out for a little bit to catch some of the bands (it's amazing... I've been playing live music in this town for almost 10 years, and I STILL don't know all the musicians!) and was really excited by all the different bands this town produces. WS pride, beeotches.
I did feel a little out of place in my ripped jeans, studded belt, and Ramones shirt... but I just can't embrace the skinny jeans movement. It's a cool look, but sadly I wasn't built for skinny jeans - they bring back memories of having to wear stirrup tights in elementary school. Same with big 80's glasses... they look cool on some people, but after having to be forced to wear them as a child I just have to pass. :)
But! Even if I felt a little out of place at first, it was clearly all in my head. I ran into friends Ryan Synder and Richard Emmett as well as some old school Werehouse crew, and felt welcome.
I head on back to my studio (John decided to crash there after the show... he had the much harder lead singer job later), pack up another round of gear for the Rosewood Bluff, and truck on down to Charlotte to play The Thirsty Beaver.
I love The Thirsty Beaver. If you haven't checked it out, please do. It's only one of the coolest bars ever - covered in old honky-tonk awesomeness.
The crowd felt a little wilder this time - ladies dancing on the bar (Why never men?! Huh?! I mean, I'm all for the ladies having a good time, but throw a girl a bone! Howie, it's you next time), a bachelorette party, etc. - but the Beaver never fails to please. It was good to see old friends and make some new ones, and had a blast with my favorite country band - The Rosewood Bluff.
I us Junior and his Bluffycakes. I know, it makes no sense. But it's fun to say.
Try it!
.....
See?! Told ya. BLUFFYCAKES!!!!
Anyways.
We'll see you soon, Charlotte! We're coming back to the Snug Harbor next time, and I'm pretty excited since we're playing with The Overmountain Men - and Bob from the Avett Bros. Yay! Upright bass players unite!
I got to spend Easter Sunday at The Haw River Ballroom (I'm a guest barista! It's so fun, and pretty out there - stop on by and say "Hi!" some Sunday) doing the opening shift, then back home to wake a sleepy Howie with an Easter basket (you'll have to ask him about the lipbalm he got :) ), take a short break, and then on to Salisbury to see my mom, dad, and brother. It'd been a while, so it was good to catch up. I miss them often - even if my brother is only 30 mins away in Raleigh. Life's just too busy sometimes.
Okay, thirty minutes up. Gotta hit the road again.
I've got nothing but Loretta Lynn songs stuck in my head. The P-90's are at The Cave on April 20th with Slawterhaus 5 (Winston-Salem, represent!) and hopefully we'll have Fist City up to snuff by then. I can't wait to do that cover. I'll even wear my Fist City shirt. Promise.
The Bluff is back in Chapel Hill this week at The Nightlight on... GASP!... SUNDAY! April 22nd with Joe Fletcher and the Wrong Reasons. Catch us there or the day before at SchoolKids Records in Raleigh for our Rosewood Bluff instore for Record Store Day!!!! I've always dreamed of playing an in-store!
Play an in-store.. CHECK!
PS - that means you have to show up, little brother of mine. MUAHAHAHA.
For real this time... gotta go. I got boys to get home to who are probibly wondering where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks I am. Catch y'all in Chapel Hill, Winston-Salem, or Saxapahaw real soon.
Or, you can just listen for the person getting honked at for pissing other drivers off in Chapel Hill. There's a 80 % chance it's a pollen-covered black Volvo with band stickers. Make sure to wave!
Hugs, and.... Bluffycakes. (Bet you said it, didn't you?! BLUFFFFFYCAKES!!!!)
~Billie.
So, Thursday is going to be "blog day". I've put in on my calendar, marked it in ink, highlighted it, and made it a date for myself. Hopefully this time it will stick.
WHEW!
Crazy. Where to start? I've given myself 30 minutes, and the clock's ticking.
I'm also doing this at the same time "SoundCloud" is loading and attempting to find my musical friends. Well, it's crashing. Apparently, I have the amount of musical friends on my Facebook account that would cause a website to crash. :) That's a wonderful thing! I'm lucky to have so many musically inclined buddies.
You can do it, little website!
My mom keeps bugging me to do Hallway Waltz stuff (as does my brain, since I tend to lose my favorite punk songs all over the house. GRRR! Don't worry, they're coming. Eventually. I promise.
So, where am I?
In Winston-Salem, sitting at Krankies Coffee downtown (I work for the other Krankies, the one in the silver airstream - Yeehaw!) and allowing my brain time to wind down from teaching, repairing, and driving all over creation.
Earlier today, I'm driving down Franklin Street (because all the secret back ways through Chapel Hill are currently being "worked on" in some form or another) which allows me time to almost crash into the car in front of me several times due to my attention deficit people watching. A guy passes by the car in a punk rock vest with an awesome Misfits back patch. Before I could snap a picture and send it to John, the car behind be decides to honk at me for not moving fast enough down a pedestrian laden street. I wave.
Chapel Hill would not be complete without someone honking at me in frustration daily. I've learned to embrace it and laugh about it. I'm also getting a water gun soon to squirt at them.
That's not assault, is it? I mean, it's just water... and it's just a car window... right?
ANYWAYS.
Proof that Franklin Street's proud punks are coming out of the wood works and starting/restarting/joining/rejoining the scene revolution. I love it! Take that, naysayers!!!!!
And there was that girl with the awesome cowgirl boots. Party on, my dear.
Enough about Franklin Street!
Shows.
Friday found me at the Cave playing bass with STAG (Micheal Rank's band, formerly of Snatches of Pink - John showed me the MTV episode of him and Sara Romweber. I wanted to steal Micheal's boots and Sara's hair!) with Mr. Howie Jr. on drums. It's the first time John and I have gotten to be a rhythm section together, and we had a BLAST. Normally, it's him telling me what to do (kinda) or me telling him what to do (I try, doesn't work so well :) ) but it was a fantastic change of pace to have us both in the backline. It gave us a chance to make funny faces at each other, or have me smile at his cues/drum faces. The show went well, and we had a good crowd. What a fun night!
Saturday was a long day - we woke up from a late night ("What time do we have to be in Winston again, Billie?" "Oh, we have to leave in an hour." Grumblegrumblegrumbleshowergetdressedloadthecar) only to be shuffed to Winston-Salem to play PhuzzPhest. We were the first act on a 1:00 on Saturday. One of my students turned up and it made my day! The P-90's played really well (go team!) and I was impressed by everyone's ability to be awake and ready to play the show. I'm blessed to be in such great bands. John's drum gear took some rigging (meh, it's punk rock!) but ultimately it went off without a problem, even with poor Dillon recovering from having an organ removed only days before. It was the first time we've played PhuzzPhest, and I hope we'll get to do it again next year! I hung out for a little bit to catch some of the bands (it's amazing... I've been playing live music in this town for almost 10 years, and I STILL don't know all the musicians!) and was really excited by all the different bands this town produces. WS pride, beeotches.
I did feel a little out of place in my ripped jeans, studded belt, and Ramones shirt... but I just can't embrace the skinny jeans movement. It's a cool look, but sadly I wasn't built for skinny jeans - they bring back memories of having to wear stirrup tights in elementary school. Same with big 80's glasses... they look cool on some people, but after having to be forced to wear them as a child I just have to pass. :)
But! Even if I felt a little out of place at first, it was clearly all in my head. I ran into friends Ryan Synder and Richard Emmett as well as some old school Werehouse crew, and felt welcome.
I head on back to my studio (John decided to crash there after the show... he had the much harder lead singer job later), pack up another round of gear for the Rosewood Bluff, and truck on down to Charlotte to play The Thirsty Beaver.
I love The Thirsty Beaver. If you haven't checked it out, please do. It's only one of the coolest bars ever - covered in old honky-tonk awesomeness.
The crowd felt a little wilder this time - ladies dancing on the bar (Why never men?! Huh?! I mean, I'm all for the ladies having a good time, but throw a girl a bone! Howie, it's you next time), a bachelorette party, etc. - but the Beaver never fails to please. It was good to see old friends and make some new ones, and had a blast with my favorite country band - The Rosewood Bluff.
I us Junior and his Bluffycakes. I know, it makes no sense. But it's fun to say.
Try it!
.....
See?! Told ya. BLUFFYCAKES!!!!
Anyways.
We'll see you soon, Charlotte! We're coming back to the Snug Harbor next time, and I'm pretty excited since we're playing with The Overmountain Men - and Bob from the Avett Bros. Yay! Upright bass players unite!
I got to spend Easter Sunday at The Haw River Ballroom (I'm a guest barista! It's so fun, and pretty out there - stop on by and say "Hi!" some Sunday) doing the opening shift, then back home to wake a sleepy Howie with an Easter basket (you'll have to ask him about the lipbalm he got :) ), take a short break, and then on to Salisbury to see my mom, dad, and brother. It'd been a while, so it was good to catch up. I miss them often - even if my brother is only 30 mins away in Raleigh. Life's just too busy sometimes.
Okay, thirty minutes up. Gotta hit the road again.
I've got nothing but Loretta Lynn songs stuck in my head. The P-90's are at The Cave on April 20th with Slawterhaus 5 (Winston-Salem, represent!) and hopefully we'll have Fist City up to snuff by then. I can't wait to do that cover. I'll even wear my Fist City shirt. Promise.
The Bluff is back in Chapel Hill this week at The Nightlight on... GASP!... SUNDAY! April 22nd with Joe Fletcher and the Wrong Reasons. Catch us there or the day before at SchoolKids Records in Raleigh for our Rosewood Bluff instore for Record Store Day!!!! I've always dreamed of playing an in-store!
Play an in-store.. CHECK!
PS - that means you have to show up, little brother of mine. MUAHAHAHA.
For real this time... gotta go. I got boys to get home to who are probibly wondering where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks I am. Catch y'all in Chapel Hill, Winston-Salem, or Saxapahaw real soon.
Or, you can just listen for the person getting honked at for pissing other drivers off in Chapel Hill. There's a 80 % chance it's a pollen-covered black Volvo with band stickers. Make sure to wave!
Hugs, and.... Bluffycakes. (Bet you said it, didn't you?! BLUFFFFFYCAKES!!!!)
~Billie.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Check it! I did it! I wrote another entry!!! I deserve a cookie. Or, well, a really nice glass of wine. Neither of which are in my general vicinity, so if they are in yours, please partake with grand blessings.
It's good to see you all here again, I hope you enjoy the visit.
Before I go too far, if you are of the more visually inclined side of the universe, please visit my Facebook photo journal entry of this weekend's shenanigans at...
(http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.539669871757.2030226.166600182&type=1&l=af205b72a8) or HERE.
Okay. Yes! What's gone on this past weekend. Amazingly, it's only two hours away from Friday as I write this. Yippie! Time flies when you have a full schedule.
Friday found The Rosewood Bluff in Spindale, NC for a live/on-air appearance at WNCW 88.7 - one of the biggest and most popular Americana stations in the world. The best one, in my humble opinion, but maybe that's because I can get it on my radio in Winston-Salem and Salisbury when I visit mum and dad. :) Spindale and Isothermal Community College are truly in the middle of nowhere, but worth every minute of the "are you sure we're going the right way?" conversation. One of the most state-of-the-art broadcasting facilities I've ever been in, and lead by a wonderful group of talented, brilliant, and kind-hearted people. I mean, I'd be happy too if I all I had to do all day was play records and artists I love for an audience who appreciates it!
The studio was color coded, which make me smile profusely. No more No. 1 plug, No. 6 hook up, input No. 25, or microphone No. 2. like I'd seen all my life... instead it was, "Billie, you're the yellow one." Yellow? Not black or grey or some other "normal" cable color? Awesome. Awesome. And then, some more awesome.
It's the small things, yes?
It's a funny thing to play live on a radio station. It feels like you're in practice... or maybe as if you and your buddies got together to "play" radio. Or well, mine did. Okay, maybe it was just me and my brother K. C. with our Dad's stolen...um, borrowed tape recorder. Anyways! You see that people are listening on the computer, but it's all just dots and numbers when you're locked into a sound proof room. After you get over the nervousness, it all just becomes one big goofy giddy time... "Hey, guess what?! We're on the FREAKING RADIO!!! This is RAD!" And then you drop a note, and you're like... "Oh, man... we're on the radio. Better not do that again."
All in all, it was a wonderful experience. The people at WNUW really have their stuff down, and are truly fantastic human beings. For a moment, I got to say... "Gillian Welch and David Rawlings stood right here!!! In this room! The one I'm standing in!". I'm not sure if everyone in bloggity land knows who they are, but I do love their music dearly.
After we say our goodbyes to the 88.7 crew, we load up the Volvo station wagon and head on back down the mountain to my other hometown, Winston-Salem to play The Garage.
I love the Garage. Maybe it's because I will never get over the giddy butterflies of the first "real" club I ever was given the chance to play. I owe a lot to Richard Boyd and the bo-stevens for dragging me into the fray and getting me addicted to playing live music.
Our friends, (and The P-90's bass player Josh Caldwell's brother-in-law) Andy Vaughan and the Driveline drove down from Richmond. VA to join the Rosewood Bluff on a two-day mini-tour. It was the new Rosewood Bluff's line-up first time at The Garage, so we weren't quite sure how it'd go... but, man, the band sure is sounding fantastic. I know I'm biased, but I'm also EXTREMELY critical of my own work and projects - I am really proud of the Rosewood Bluff. The Garage, as many will tell you, is probably one of the best venues in the United States if not the entire world (I've only seen Belgium, Holland, France, and London, so take that as you will) with wonderful sound/soundman Brian Doub and the greatest club owners (Kim and Richard Emmett) to boot. I know it sounds like ass kissing or maybe even some silly hometown pride... but, nope. I'm not alone in this. You owe it to yourself to visit this (historical? Sure!) place and soak in some good vibes. As I said once before, this is the only bar I will ever feel comfortable going solo to and staying all night.
Okay, so now that I've said my two cents about how much I adore The Garage, let's get on with the show.
The Hawkeyes from Pittsburgh, PA opened (HELL YEAH WESTERN PA!!! Go Steelers) and they reminded me more of a band the P-90's should play with. Cowpunk with a hard punky edge, these guys put on a energetic show no matter how many are listening - which says something about a group. I've seen groups just give up when there's only a few watching (hey, I've been there), and I always want to cry out... "HEY! I'm here! And, I wanna be here! And! I want to support your music. AND! I really want to enjoy your music, so rock out for my sake, PLEASE?" I've found myself in those situations a few times, then looking inward and telling myself, "remember when you were sitting in your bedroom practicing guitar to no one and you would have sliced off one of your limbs to be playing on stage in front of anybody?"
That being said, The Hawkeyes delivered.
Next up was Andy and The Driveline, and they're always fun to see. For some reason, I feel like every time I see them, one more cowboy hat magically appears on the stage. I can't blame them - I remember when I bought my first pair of real cowboy boots, got all excited, and wore them to a gig. I felt like I had just solved some sort of personal mystery, and the cowboy boots were the missing link. I haven't stopped wearing them since. As Greg Bell once told me, "Sometimes, the scene finds you."
Enough about clothes though, onward to music!
The Driveline poured out a healthy dose of twang and country music standards (14 Karat Mind comes to mind) and I even saw a few snap buttoned shirt outfitted ladies in the back getting down with their yee-haw selves! Hey, why not?
The Rosewood Bluff took the stage last, and it's always so satisfying to play in a band that locks in from the first song. I'm filled with a bunch of crazy band hurrah lately. The show went great.
I adore the bands I'm in, and that's a very harmonious (HA!) place to be.
I'll spare you the adventures we had later that night in my studio that involved trance music and a missing bottle of wine. It just won't have the proper delivery online.
ASHEVILLE! I love Asheville. I can't afford to live in Asheville, or, well, I've never discovered a way to make it work... but I sure do love to visit. Everyone that we ran into that night was super sweet. For some reason, I feel like certain places in Chapel Hill can have this cold, stand-off-ish vibe (okay, okay, or anywhere else for that matter... maybe it's just the places I find myself ending up in) but everyone up there seemed in good spirits. I mean, if I had to wake up every morning to a beautiful mountain view and tons of outdoorsy stuff to do I'd be in good spirits too! We got there two hours early (WHAT?! Early?! I know.) and kept trying to figure out how to sleep in the car. Wasn't gonna happen. However! Coffee in a double decker bus? Yes, please!
We played in a spot called MoDaddy's which was wonderful fun, and the owner/bartenders were great. It's on the same block as The Orange Peel. John even had a guy make him a collage and put it in the tip jar. No, really. A collage. Of Two Dollar Pistols stuff. Kind of amazing. Kind of... WTF?!
After a solid show and big hugs to Andy and the guys, we headed off down the mountain back to Chapel Hill. Nathan's first comment in the car? "I sure do miss my wife." [Nathan and Amy were married recently in the coolest way possible... four weeks into the relationship they were married, and didn't tell a soul until six months later. :) "Loose lips sink ships, Howie." That in mind, they are some of the most solid and level-headed people I have yet to meet.] It hit home, and fueled the three-ish hour drive back. "Come on, John, we have a man to get back to his wife!"
Gabba Gabba Hey Y'all. Hope you're safe, warm, and loved wherever you are.
Until next time!!!
Love,
~Billie.
PS- Being 28 is weird. Looking at 30 is starting to freak me out. Guess I gotta make these last two twenty-something years kick arse!
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