Real talk. Last night a young organization called AMP, Asheville Music Professionals, hosted a gathering at ISIS on Haywood Road. The topic for exchange was healthcare, which is a historical issue for artists of all mediums. In the new government format, it is supposed to be easier for folks to get medical coverage, but the reality is most folks in the entertainment industry didn't have medical coverage to begin with. So, where do the funds come from to cover what is now a mandatory minimum of sorts, in order to participate in the existing healthcare paradigm?
I was not only looking forward to last night as a new addition to the AMP mailing list, but as a chance to discuss an issue I feel a great deal of passion for. As someone who has been forced into the western medical paradigm for the bulk of my life, I have experienced everything from full medical coverage as a young child through college years under my parental wings, through years of calls from bill collectors after an emergency surgery as a newlywed and young mother. For many years I let health concerns ride as I waited out 5 digits of debt from the surgery a decade earlier. I am now blessed to have received medicaid and have therefore not been affected by the changes of the Affordable Care Act. I believe in socialized medicine almost as much as believe in holistic and preventative healthcare. I believe my medicaid is a godsend as I am finally able to receive routine diagnostic procedures and a few physical therapy sessions a year in case of emergency. If I can get a recommendation from my clinician, when I finally see them later this year..... I have had to reschedule due to being late on more than one occasion. .....if they approve chiropractic care from someone who is willing to go through the absurd amount of rigamarole the government expects to receive compensation from medicaid, and provided I can come up with the triple digits for intake, I can receive 8 or 9 adjustments in 2015. For these affordances, I am incredibly thankful.
I am saddened by the realization that I can not write about last night's gathering because of my own sordid health issues. It will sound ridiculous for someone who is on the public dole to desire more, but the reality is the tools that are sometimes necessary to lift people from poverty are not available. The reason I have been late for the doctor, as well as court dates, meetings and missed entire memorial services is the reality of immobility. The reality of driving automobiles that can kill other people. The reality of public displays of emotion that overwhelm and cripple. The reality of judgment and internal chaos that others are unable to define in social scenarios and other soft circumstances.
I am humbled to remember the modus operandi of the villasonican movement and disclose my own mortification about the potentials of toxic explosions in public bathrooms or the inability to get up and down stairs without asking for help. I am sometimes immobilized by my thoughts and my fears and my horrid recollections of stolen moments or public humiliations. I am also immobilized by seething pain in my joints and piercing accumulations of sensations that are difficult to describe. When a kind stranger asks, "are you okay?" as you suppress the ghost of a knife or the sting of a sense memory misfire, it is difficult to know the polite way to dismiss oneself without one's own bitter judgments rising to the surface.
I have asked the system about advocates and have even found a neighbor who has volunteered to accompany me places, like last night, that I can somehow justify spending a few dollars to fit in with a social lubricant or a ginger ale and some for my friend. Now the conundrum brings me around to the question of who helps me get through the time and energy to get past the obstacles in my doorframes.
I share these thoughts as a real outcry to think on the issues of healthcare that still loom in our culture. I invite you to continue to discuss what some may seem as political issues to lie dormant on a battlefield smeared with the blood of our loss. The issues burn brighter than the demons that toast our demise outside of Buncombe County. Cheers to the death of tough love.
Answers are begged. Solutions lie unused and experiments go undone every day.
I live alone with a child who deserves more.
Infinite gratitude goes to James Roberts, my step father, who continues to pay for my EMDR treatments every week, as 4 of the 5 therapists I have seen in the last few years have discontinued medicaid coverage. Also, to my therapist at Hickory Nut Gap Farm who is continuing to accept medicaid, while several therapists at Horsesense continue to tangle with the system for their right to provide services to the poor.
For a final dose of real talk, in all honesty the best medicine to make me function as I continue to refuse the piles of pharmaceuticals prescribed to me, is a little red wine in the evenings, a little irish cream in my morning tea or coffee, some tobacco and the forbidden maryjane. Obviously, however, while my medicaid has no limits to the hundreds of thousands of dollars it would spend a month to provide me with their drug of choice, I can't possibly afford the mild lubricants and pain pacifiers that are MY choice. I am often floored by the judgement of those who have found a way to thrive in the world, less survive in the world, and say that those in poverty don't deserve these types of products. Most people in poverty are there for reasons you can only imagine from your spoon fed media choices. Most of the poor folks I know deserve every puff and swallow. I haven't even mentioned the Crown Royal I have chosen to celebrate with for 25 years, nor the champagne and white wine I used to keep on stock, with organic juice and such and such and so on...... when I was a working woman who deserved such accoutrements. I accept your judgement as you read this. I harbour my own.
Today I shall revisit the local Buncombe resources to find out about preventing my power getting cut off tomorrow, which would spoil the produce that we collected from the blessed ABCCM (Asheville Buncombe Christian Crisis Ministry) who stocked us up with food for thought, as well as our bodies, last week. On a higher note, we have surplus toilet paper and I am very thankful for my deodorant, my collection of hotel shampoo and some awesome handmade soap from my friend Mariah. Mariah, you rock. The soap you made is delightful and makes me think life is worth the living after all.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Friday, November 7, 2014
sid talks to birds
another musical story written as if t'were a song
another lack of contingents of space
that may strike a chord that went longer than seen
as it struck what is next on the lawn in between
... ... ...
he said she's an angel
i said she's the bomb
i find myself talking to spirits
whenever the stereo is on
brothers make words out of thin air
telling their stories in songs
i find myself clinging to ether
as eye script out another throng
of words and movement
that beg for more levels
of colors and wires and jazz hands... legs...
...people that see where the weight needs release
and where more friction can tame the beasts
that lurk in the shadows
along the way
as we tame the highways
and children that ride them
like seaweed that
dances in waves
inside the booth
they say sooth
what's the truth
the youth
one day in the lab and i had to ask at least one question
if not a thousand
she said rock and roll is a crazy business
marty said
welcome to the music business
you're fucked
standard ruck appeal leaves curbs
like curves in danger
rolling up my drive without an alibi
giving me a reason why
to look at you like a stranger
don't make me scream at my mama
get the fuck back in the house
because you think you recognize
my route my shout my spouse my snout
living behind an old cracked house
singing my stories in the dirty south
she talks to birds
that's the word i heard
we can all rest assured
there is not yet a way
another lack of contingents of space
that may strike a chord that went longer than seen
as it struck what is next on the lawn in between
... ... ...
he said she's an angel
i said she's the bomb
i find myself talking to spirits
whenever the stereo is on
brothers make words out of thin air
telling their stories in songs
i find myself clinging to ether
as eye script out another throng
of words and movement
that beg for more levels
of colors and wires and jazz hands... legs...
...people that see where the weight needs release
and where more friction can tame the beasts
that lurk in the shadows
along the way
as we tame the highways
and children that ride them
like seaweed that
dances in waves
inside the booth
they say sooth
what's the truth
the youth
one day in the lab and i had to ask at least one question
if not a thousand
she said rock and roll is a crazy business
marty said
welcome to the music business
you're fucked
standard ruck appeal leaves curbs
like curves in danger
rolling up my drive without an alibi
giving me a reason why
to look at you like a stranger
don't make me scream at my mama
get the fuck back in the house
because you think you recognize
my route my shout my spouse my snout
living behind an old cracked house
singing my stories in the dirty south
she talks to birds
that's the word i heard
we can all rest assured
there is not yet a way
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
sound tribe section C
Disclaimer: I apologize in advance for run on sentences, grammatical errors and extreme opinions. The following subject has had me in a place of exacerbated emotional anxiety for the last 36 hours. I hope that through expressing the following thoughts and sharing ideas toward a more enlightened paradigm, we can all come to a place of understanding ourselves and our loved ones and peers more completely and unconditionally.
Despite an expressed history and love for music and the scenes that it creates, as well as the long held belief that music is the only religion I could ever be forced to choose, I am entrenched in an emotional storm that contains an air of responsibility and a sense of shame. As I enjoyed houseguests Sunday evening, it was assumed I had already gotten word of the travesty of drugs and live music that converged at Thomas Wolfe this past Saturday night. I was told 9 young men and women were taken to the hospital from ketamine related overdoses and that 2 were in what western medicine calls "critical condition". The fact that Jeffrey was the first person to ever guide my eldest son on hand drums some 17 years ago, in a home I was blessed to inhabit with he, Colby Miller, Tate Erickson and Forrest Smith for my re entry to Asheville after my divorce, creates an added confusion about histories and trajectories. A goddess called Kara was my futon neighbor, and if memory serves, Colby was also a surfer that summer. As a sidenote, Colby went on to manage STS9 during their subsequent "rise to fame" aka paper ticketed shows in high end venues. We were all blessed by the goodness of our friends and embarking on a shared journey that is the village so many enjoy. The village where, this past Saturday night, ACEntertainment, Thomas Wolfe Auditorium and Sound Tribe Sector 9 made a profit off of a party where humans fell prey.
There has been much discussion on local social media political groups about the right to place blame on an overtaxed police chief who has a short staffed police force working overtime for tax dollars. I am of the opinion a lack of cops was not the problem. I would like responsibility to be placed on the drug dealer who sold dirty merchandise, first and foremost. Whether this person was ultimately found and convicted is not known to me, but I am willing to bet the victims can work together to trace details back to a guilty party. Whether "proper" civil servants deliver "proper" paperwork and follow "proper" channels or the hippie mafia ties them to a phallic symbol in the center of town and throw rotten tomatoes and eggs at him for a week, while he alternately burns up and freezes in our gorgeous rainbow of weather, I care not. My point is that accountability is due and the police chief is hardly the problem. Nor is the venue or the promoter's desire, or lack of desire, to pay an abundance of security or surround the place with overworked law enforcement. That said, it seems relevant to mention that several arrests were made for misdemeanor charges of marijuana possession. While 9 people were being taken to the hospital for pharmaceutical overdoses, the dozen cops on the premises made time to hassle and ticket patrons for possession of a joint. A joint?! If you are not in the know, this is a miniscule amount of herbal medicine known to relieve anxiety aka social lubricant aka sensory enhancement plant. It was also stated, by reputable media sources at Asheville Free Media, that the patrons charged had long hair in the style of dreadlocks. Really Asheville Police Dept?? We aren't past these stereotypes yet? To me, this is worthy of an equal amount of shame as is due the dirty drug dealer.
Regarding prevention, which is what this worstcase scenario should inspire, I am of the opinion that law enforcement might be great for stampedes and crowd control at entryways and emergency exits, in case of fire or natural disaster, but that they have no place in the realm of free spirited individuals enjoying live music. What has been implemented as early as the 1960s by large rock venues and artists, such as the Rolling Stones and the Grateful Dead, is an employed faction of medical professionals supported by a volunteer force qualified to assist in emergency situations around exhaustion, dehydration, crowd induced anxiety and experimental drug usage. I have personally worked on medical teams, based on state licensure as a bodyworker and healer, for over 15 years. I was a member of a safety team at Harmonic Convergence, a festival at local venue Deerfields where STS9 performed, in 2002. I was hired by Colby Miller to assist with patrons who were struggling with the aforementioned issues on an around the clock basis. We had enough members on our team that at no point in that 3 day event was there not a team of designated, sober professionals available to assist in the presentation of mental distress. This precaution was made to protect the patrons, the venue and the reputation of the artists, who included local legends GFE and Strut.
Personally, as a performing artist, I believe that there comes with notoriety an expected level of responsibility to your fan base. I believe this on a spiritual level, as well as on the premise of physical connectivity and appreciation for those that financially support your vision and the implementation of it. I believe bands like the Grateful Dead and Queen set precedence by creating an environment where people could freely experiment, with the knowledge that the artists they were inspired by actually cared about their safety and the authenticity of their experience. They showed this by implementing teams throughout their scene that provided support for the variety of alternative lifestyles that their music attracted. In the example of the Dead, they founded protection for the newly sober through the Wharf Rats, who provided 12 step support at their events. They also had educated factions of their entourage who served as walkabouts, serving those actively participating in experimentation with hallucinogens and alcohol. Queen made no secrets at their live shows of their sexuality and the prolific education of their fan base around protected sex and other safety rules that kept sexual experimentation healthier than it might otherwise have been. While these designs were in their earliest stages in the 1970s, they set a protocol for protecting one's circle, regardless of how large and infinite your circle becomes.
Using this weekend's local example at Thomas Wolfe, I would like to address the fact that STS9 is a group of grown men who have worked very hard for decades creating music that is sonically designed to heal and create growth without the use of external substances. I have used their recordings for literally hundreds of healing sessions in my decades as a bodyworker and Reiki Master. They are a picture or health and welness who I am sure would have stopped the show themselves and assisted in aiding their fanbase, had they had any awareness of what was happening just beyond their feet. The Asheville Police Department stopped the show and, according to local news sources, gave the artists no immediate explanation of why. If the lights could have been turned on, educational announcements been made, I am confident that their fan base could have come together in a process of healing and transition that would have allowed the show to go on after an interim of communication, acceptance and understanding. This leads the next level of accountability on the local law enforcement that jumped the gun, pun intended, and without explanation. It is also my understanding that they promoted a false media blitz about having glass bottles thrown at them. It is my further understanding that glass bottles are neither sold at the venue, nor allowed into the venue. This blatant discrepancy and misrepresentation of the truth is both abhorrent and unacceptable.
Finally, in the face of obviously demanded precautionary measures, this tale deserves addressing in future fashion by the entity who is responsible for putting an event together. As a promoter, I believe in providing staff who are prepared to provide not only educational information about the recreational opportunities that might prevent themselves, but also to deal with any mental or physical situations that might arise due to either crowd manipulation or emotional triggers caught unaware by maximum levels of phenomenally enlightening music, as well as the myriad of human challenges in between. One of the miraculous things about the power of music and the science of sound, is that there is an unknown factor that implements it's influence. Some call it musical magic, some call it emotional freedom, some call it God. In this example, we look to Ashley Capps. Ashley has been a form of mental mentor to me for almost 15 years. I first worked for him at VanHoy Farms and went on to work for him at Bonnaroo, the Orange Peel and Deerfields. One of many events was Mountain Oasis, a prime example of another worstcase scenario where the presence of drugs outweighed the staff's ability to create a safe and nurturing environment. I am of the opinion that part of natural protocol utilized at large scale festivals can also be applied to one off events at indoor venues. Just because participants are in an enclosed, and seemingly safe space, we have come to a transition in our culture where predators are dominating the game. What we don't need is more undercover cops. What we do need is medical professionals and their support staff in bright colors, available for providing a safe and nurturing environment that fosters healthy experimentation and spiritual growth. Music is church for many of us and in the new paradigm of humanity, more of you will come to understand the architecture that sound provides and the utopian element that music can orchestrate. In the same way that the music industry at large places subversive controlling tones in pop music, artists like STS9 utilize the same science to create audioscapes that contradict mass media control and instead provide a soundtrack that promotes growth and healing. Mind what you listen to, as it is the architecture of your mind.
Regarding the far reaching influence of ACEntertainment, who are the seed source of much of our local music here in Asheville, as well as the primary influence of local music in Knoxville, TN and a great many musical hubs in the southeast, I would love to see the addition of existing safety teams and medical staff to smaller venues, that they already incorporate in their larger scale events. I would also like to see artists stepping up and playing an integral role in taking responsibility for the scene that they create. No phishin. Musical acts that create a scene rampant with drug use, egoic condescension and pedophilia have no place in a healthy culture.
Right here in Asheville we have a company called FLOW: Functions Logistics Operations Works. They provide Safety In Sound through medical and security personnel staffing, as well as waste management services, production equipment and support, gear and equipment rentals, catering and more. With the combined experience of a staff who all have decades of individual experience, as well as personnel who are medical professionals, FLOW Event Services is reliable and wonderful to work with on a professional and personal level. If you are a promoter or artist in our region, I encourage you to learn more about FLOW at www.floweventservices.com and consider hiring them to support your events. Especially if you know you have a fan base that likes to experiment with external chemical influences. There is no reason for us to stimulate already existing tensions between law enforcement and regular humans, already horrifically escalated by the soon to be defunct massively over funded federal government's "war on drugs", which we all recognize as a financially motivated war on human beings. It is time for us to destroy the paradigm that supports a privatized prison system, the black market primarily fueled by dirty legislators and dirty law enforcement and the death toll that continues to escalate as we sit idly and wonder what will happen next. It is time to speak out and to take a stand. While you yourself may not participate in experimentation, nor see the medicinal value of external chemical sources like cannabis, psilocybin or ayahuasca, it is a fact that you know and care for someone who does. It is our human responsibility to create a safe space for humanity to prosper and evolve. Otherwise, we are allowing our species to reach extinction prematurely.
If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.
Namaste. Let the music play.
Despite an expressed history and love for music and the scenes that it creates, as well as the long held belief that music is the only religion I could ever be forced to choose, I am entrenched in an emotional storm that contains an air of responsibility and a sense of shame. As I enjoyed houseguests Sunday evening, it was assumed I had already gotten word of the travesty of drugs and live music that converged at Thomas Wolfe this past Saturday night. I was told 9 young men and women were taken to the hospital from ketamine related overdoses and that 2 were in what western medicine calls "critical condition". The fact that Jeffrey was the first person to ever guide my eldest son on hand drums some 17 years ago, in a home I was blessed to inhabit with he, Colby Miller, Tate Erickson and Forrest Smith for my re entry to Asheville after my divorce, creates an added confusion about histories and trajectories. A goddess called Kara was my futon neighbor, and if memory serves, Colby was also a surfer that summer. As a sidenote, Colby went on to manage STS9 during their subsequent "rise to fame" aka paper ticketed shows in high end venues. We were all blessed by the goodness of our friends and embarking on a shared journey that is the village so many enjoy. The village where, this past Saturday night, ACEntertainment, Thomas Wolfe Auditorium and Sound Tribe Sector 9 made a profit off of a party where humans fell prey.
There has been much discussion on local social media political groups about the right to place blame on an overtaxed police chief who has a short staffed police force working overtime for tax dollars. I am of the opinion a lack of cops was not the problem. I would like responsibility to be placed on the drug dealer who sold dirty merchandise, first and foremost. Whether this person was ultimately found and convicted is not known to me, but I am willing to bet the victims can work together to trace details back to a guilty party. Whether "proper" civil servants deliver "proper" paperwork and follow "proper" channels or the hippie mafia ties them to a phallic symbol in the center of town and throw rotten tomatoes and eggs at him for a week, while he alternately burns up and freezes in our gorgeous rainbow of weather, I care not. My point is that accountability is due and the police chief is hardly the problem. Nor is the venue or the promoter's desire, or lack of desire, to pay an abundance of security or surround the place with overworked law enforcement. That said, it seems relevant to mention that several arrests were made for misdemeanor charges of marijuana possession. While 9 people were being taken to the hospital for pharmaceutical overdoses, the dozen cops on the premises made time to hassle and ticket patrons for possession of a joint. A joint?! If you are not in the know, this is a miniscule amount of herbal medicine known to relieve anxiety aka social lubricant aka sensory enhancement plant. It was also stated, by reputable media sources at Asheville Free Media, that the patrons charged had long hair in the style of dreadlocks. Really Asheville Police Dept?? We aren't past these stereotypes yet? To me, this is worthy of an equal amount of shame as is due the dirty drug dealer.
Regarding prevention, which is what this worstcase scenario should inspire, I am of the opinion that law enforcement might be great for stampedes and crowd control at entryways and emergency exits, in case of fire or natural disaster, but that they have no place in the realm of free spirited individuals enjoying live music. What has been implemented as early as the 1960s by large rock venues and artists, such as the Rolling Stones and the Grateful Dead, is an employed faction of medical professionals supported by a volunteer force qualified to assist in emergency situations around exhaustion, dehydration, crowd induced anxiety and experimental drug usage. I have personally worked on medical teams, based on state licensure as a bodyworker and healer, for over 15 years. I was a member of a safety team at Harmonic Convergence, a festival at local venue Deerfields where STS9 performed, in 2002. I was hired by Colby Miller to assist with patrons who were struggling with the aforementioned issues on an around the clock basis. We had enough members on our team that at no point in that 3 day event was there not a team of designated, sober professionals available to assist in the presentation of mental distress. This precaution was made to protect the patrons, the venue and the reputation of the artists, who included local legends GFE and Strut.
Personally, as a performing artist, I believe that there comes with notoriety an expected level of responsibility to your fan base. I believe this on a spiritual level, as well as on the premise of physical connectivity and appreciation for those that financially support your vision and the implementation of it. I believe bands like the Grateful Dead and Queen set precedence by creating an environment where people could freely experiment, with the knowledge that the artists they were inspired by actually cared about their safety and the authenticity of their experience. They showed this by implementing teams throughout their scene that provided support for the variety of alternative lifestyles that their music attracted. In the example of the Dead, they founded protection for the newly sober through the Wharf Rats, who provided 12 step support at their events. They also had educated factions of their entourage who served as walkabouts, serving those actively participating in experimentation with hallucinogens and alcohol. Queen made no secrets at their live shows of their sexuality and the prolific education of their fan base around protected sex and other safety rules that kept sexual experimentation healthier than it might otherwise have been. While these designs were in their earliest stages in the 1970s, they set a protocol for protecting one's circle, regardless of how large and infinite your circle becomes.
Using this weekend's local example at Thomas Wolfe, I would like to address the fact that STS9 is a group of grown men who have worked very hard for decades creating music that is sonically designed to heal and create growth without the use of external substances. I have used their recordings for literally hundreds of healing sessions in my decades as a bodyworker and Reiki Master. They are a picture or health and welness who I am sure would have stopped the show themselves and assisted in aiding their fanbase, had they had any awareness of what was happening just beyond their feet. The Asheville Police Department stopped the show and, according to local news sources, gave the artists no immediate explanation of why. If the lights could have been turned on, educational announcements been made, I am confident that their fan base could have come together in a process of healing and transition that would have allowed the show to go on after an interim of communication, acceptance and understanding. This leads the next level of accountability on the local law enforcement that jumped the gun, pun intended, and without explanation. It is also my understanding that they promoted a false media blitz about having glass bottles thrown at them. It is my further understanding that glass bottles are neither sold at the venue, nor allowed into the venue. This blatant discrepancy and misrepresentation of the truth is both abhorrent and unacceptable.
Finally, in the face of obviously demanded precautionary measures, this tale deserves addressing in future fashion by the entity who is responsible for putting an event together. As a promoter, I believe in providing staff who are prepared to provide not only educational information about the recreational opportunities that might prevent themselves, but also to deal with any mental or physical situations that might arise due to either crowd manipulation or emotional triggers caught unaware by maximum levels of phenomenally enlightening music, as well as the myriad of human challenges in between. One of the miraculous things about the power of music and the science of sound, is that there is an unknown factor that implements it's influence. Some call it musical magic, some call it emotional freedom, some call it God. In this example, we look to Ashley Capps. Ashley has been a form of mental mentor to me for almost 15 years. I first worked for him at VanHoy Farms and went on to work for him at Bonnaroo, the Orange Peel and Deerfields. One of many events was Mountain Oasis, a prime example of another worstcase scenario where the presence of drugs outweighed the staff's ability to create a safe and nurturing environment. I am of the opinion that part of natural protocol utilized at large scale festivals can also be applied to one off events at indoor venues. Just because participants are in an enclosed, and seemingly safe space, we have come to a transition in our culture where predators are dominating the game. What we don't need is more undercover cops. What we do need is medical professionals and their support staff in bright colors, available for providing a safe and nurturing environment that fosters healthy experimentation and spiritual growth. Music is church for many of us and in the new paradigm of humanity, more of you will come to understand the architecture that sound provides and the utopian element that music can orchestrate. In the same way that the music industry at large places subversive controlling tones in pop music, artists like STS9 utilize the same science to create audioscapes that contradict mass media control and instead provide a soundtrack that promotes growth and healing. Mind what you listen to, as it is the architecture of your mind.
Regarding the far reaching influence of ACEntertainment, who are the seed source of much of our local music here in Asheville, as well as the primary influence of local music in Knoxville, TN and a great many musical hubs in the southeast, I would love to see the addition of existing safety teams and medical staff to smaller venues, that they already incorporate in their larger scale events. I would also like to see artists stepping up and playing an integral role in taking responsibility for the scene that they create. No phishin. Musical acts that create a scene rampant with drug use, egoic condescension and pedophilia have no place in a healthy culture.
Right here in Asheville we have a company called FLOW: Functions Logistics Operations Works. They provide Safety In Sound through medical and security personnel staffing, as well as waste management services, production equipment and support, gear and equipment rentals, catering and more. With the combined experience of a staff who all have decades of individual experience, as well as personnel who are medical professionals, FLOW Event Services is reliable and wonderful to work with on a professional and personal level. If you are a promoter or artist in our region, I encourage you to learn more about FLOW at www.floweventservices.com and consider hiring them to support your events. Especially if you know you have a fan base that likes to experiment with external chemical influences. There is no reason for us to stimulate already existing tensions between law enforcement and regular humans, already horrifically escalated by the soon to be defunct massively over funded federal government's "war on drugs", which we all recognize as a financially motivated war on human beings. It is time for us to destroy the paradigm that supports a privatized prison system, the black market primarily fueled by dirty legislators and dirty law enforcement and the death toll that continues to escalate as we sit idly and wonder what will happen next. It is time to speak out and to take a stand. While you yourself may not participate in experimentation, nor see the medicinal value of external chemical sources like cannabis, psilocybin or ayahuasca, it is a fact that you know and care for someone who does. It is our human responsibility to create a safe space for humanity to prosper and evolve. Otherwise, we are allowing our species to reach extinction prematurely.
If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.
Namaste. Let the music play.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
in the beginning
Welcome to my world. We aren't really going to go all the way back, but we'll start with July 4th, 1997. The beginning of my relationship with the pocket of the music industry known as the festival circuit AKA the jam band scene AKA americana on the road.
Thanks to a welcome reconnect with a favorite percussionist, one Andrew Mrozkowski, I found myself in downtown Greensboro, NC enjoying a 4th of July celebration put on by one Bob Robertson, front and center for a band that will always hold a sacred space in my heart. Some of you will remember their name: FOLKSWAGGIN. They formed at a vigil the night Jerry Garcia died and spent the next 5 years taking us all on a journey of healing and self discovery. I had never listened to the Grateful Dead, nor anything that could be remotely related to a jam. Having been raised on pop music, with a foundation of vinyl which included 70s rock, classic country and classical, my mind was suddenly opened not only to a whole new sound, but an entirely new way to approach a career in the music industry.
I was a year into the last 17 years of single motherhood and the idea of any type of family was beyond enticing. The group of people that surrounded Folkswaggin was to be the first real family I had ever had. Melissa Hinnant, the Holder sisters, Mr. Hylton and Jason and Christina Blaylock, Shane Lee and David McCracken became a collective that I found to provide not only a new musical awareness, but ignited a craving for harmony and a safety that consistently supported those manic Sundays that had terminally haunted my youth. Although they may have been reluctant to allow this crazy newcomer a pass to production, the inevitable had no choice but to prosper. With the gift of connectivity to Bob, I found a path opening up before me that could not be denied.
Over the next few years, I volunteered for Bob as he grew a festival scene that would come to bring national artists from around the country to the sacred ground of North Carolina. Not only was I introduced to the jam band scene, but introduced to a wealth of my own unknown history through americana music and bluegrass. It didn't take long to realize that my grass was blue. Smilefest originated as a day fest at Castle McCollough in Greensboro and grew to join with the Little King scene of Green Acres just west on I40. By the time I jumped on the bandwagon we found ourselves celebrating music on an island in the middle of a lake and I was the backstage liaison from the 420 Cafe to the artists camp. We celebrated love, life and the pursuit of musical excellence at many spots along the way. While we ultimately found a home at Deerfields, here in Asheville NC, I personally began growing up during our years with Casey VanHoy at VanHoy Farms in Statesville, NC.
VanHoy proved to be place where we could convene to dream and manifest connectivity with artists that would last a lifetime. This is the spot where not only was I blessed to bring my older son, Ian, and introduce him to the beauty of excavation, crystals, bonfires and dancing, but welcomed my younger son, Joshua, into the festival world. This is the land where he was blessed to be introduced to the world by his father, Mark Griffith. Joshua was Simba for a day, and despite the loss of fatherhood he has known, this memory will always burn brightly in our cosmos.
This is the spot where I was blessed to meet and work with countless idols, including David Grisman, Jeff Sipe, Bela Fleck, Futureman, Larry & Jenny Keel, Keller Williams and the Lord of the Strings Vassar Clements. During these early years I was living between Clemmons and Winston-Salem in a spot called Lewisville. While putting the past behind me and hosting the ghosts of my grandparents on the daily, I was blessed to have this sacred spot in Statesville filled with love and friendship that allowed me to grow past my prideful beginnings. For these years of growth and learning, I am forever grateful.
It was also a time to learn from and begin to acknowledge so many artists I admired that would eventually become my neighbors as I considered the path to Asheville, NC. I was blessed to watch my son fall in love with Caroline Pond of the Snake Oil Medicine Show and be influenced by countless good men, like Jason Krekel, Phil Cheney, the Pond Brothers, Woody Wood, Mark Shimick, as well as all the amazing people we worked alongside. I was blessed to be reunited with church camp friends from our early days of escapism to college dorms under the guise of god. Gil and Ken were the first brothers I felt like actually respected me as their sister and gave me a safety net to sleep. Falling in love with amazing Matts and Jumanji and countless adorable brothers who gave me the freedom to ride with Scarecrow wherever the wind blows. I knew I was a baby, and it was okay. These were the days where I learned the safety to walk on stage. I will be eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to kick off one summer with the National Anthem, thanks to the goddess Niki Harrison, as well as perform with the children of the summer with my son on stage. Ian stood on one side of Vassar, and I stood on the other. We were surrounded by the talents of Larry & Jenny Keel, Curtis Burch and Rex McGee.
During this time I was also blessed to be taken to my first Merlefest by my aunt Diane Smith and volunteered the next decade in Wilkesboro, NC in order to devour as much incredible music as humanly possible for 4 days every spring. It was here I was first exposed to so many incredible artists, like Sam Bush and Chris Thile, who I have been lucky enough to work with many more times over the years. The Kuger Brothers, the Avett Brothers, Tift Merritt, Jim Lauderdale, Peter Rowan, Dolly Parton, John Paul Jones and countless others who I am sure will be mentioned in future blogs. One year, I sent Jim over a dozen cassette tapes with entries to the Chris Austin Songwriting Contest, formerly nailed by David Vai, and was blessed to utilize that same mailing to separate the church and state that was my relationship with my father and step mother. The entries were prepared with wraps and oils on a large glass table in their Texan den. Inside the glass was an altar to Michael Jordon, but their pentacostal ways believed my sentiments, intentions and aromas to be a sacrilege to their home and I was thrown out after a quick trip to the post office, soon to be rescued by one Blythe Hatcher and delivered to Austin for the 2002 SXSW.
SXSW was another groundbreaking entry in the life of a music industry dream. There I was blessed to become acquainted with royalty like Bonnie Simmons, Ethan Hawke, and Roy Carter, which led to a week in California later that summer soaking up the Snake Oil Medicine Show and many more great acts at the High Sierra Music Festival. This was also the trip that conceived one Joshua David Aragorn in San Francisco. I was totally stoked to become friends with Jonathan Schwartz, who took me under his wing and introduced me to a horde of awesome folks. We spent one epic night running around with the guys who founded JamBase and got to swing the scene with Umprey's McGee, Particle and so much more talent than I could readily absorb. He also let me crash in his awesome room, was a perfect gentleman and gave me a Relix wardrobe that I wear to this day. The cherry on the proverbial sundae was an introduction to beautiful brainiac Aeve Baldwin. At the time she was the new editor of Relix Magazine, who went on to become the Editor for all of Zenbu Media. She and I spent 5 hours sitting on the patio at Roy's in downtown Austin, drinking wine and making time to weave our visions together with laughter and tears. A few weeks later we both became pregnant and came to believe over time that our little beans were destined for many great things. She and her favorite aussie, Alex, were gifts to my cosmos and allowed me to bring my children to NYC for the ride of a lifetime. Two weeks of spiritual growth and unison with the streets of my favorite haunting grounds.
All this goodness also led to one global trajectory that shall be evident in future writings but shall only be mentioned today, in a final act of gratitude to all those moments where my mind took a turn at dysfunction junction and it was surely time to go talk to BOB. The blues are self evident and the brothers never stop coming. One summer at VanHoy Farms I was blessed to work for two great men, who I will write more about later. One Warren Haynes and one Ashley Capps. After a premenstrual moment of disdain and the limited publication of an essay called Bonnaruination: the Walmart of Festivals, I was invited to come work the 1st Bonnaroo. I quickly wrapped up a recording session in Baltimore MD at Nottingham Studios and struck out toward Manchester TN at 11pm on a Monday night. Tuesday morning was the beginning of a decade of Mr. C taking me to school and back, by providing a venue where I could check in annually to test my body and mind to it's absolute limits. Although, many a downfall occurred on that sacred ground, many a graduation was felt. I will be eternally grateful for every strained shit, every blister, burn and bellyache, every magic moment at the feet of another idol and every friendship that survived the chay.os. Hell, let's be honest, I am also thankful for every relationship that met it's bitter end. We were all at the bottom of a learning curve under those circumstances and many a good man and woman have found a place there to continue to thrive and overcome. Many a love lost and found. To sit at the feet of Bonnie Raitt, John Medeski and Jim Jarmusch makes every step through the mire worth it. To stand at the feet of Kris Kristofferson, Les Claypool and Stevie Wonder makes walking through the feces of others bearable. You may think not, but it's 100% true.
Along the way, we all find our scents and sense of power and freedom. We each have a destiny to fulfill and a vision to develop and devour. There are still countless songs to be written and dances to be danced. Together we grow, laugh, learn and live to our fullest potentials. Alone we wonder. Alone we find the space to loosen the grip on reality and together we wander without losing. These are merely a few highlights of history, herstory, and I hope you will come back to read more stories and find updates on the current wave of sound and sacrifice the musicians you love bring through the small picture window that is my perspective. Here in Asheville NC, we are blessed with live music every night and a wealth of talent that live in every direction. I hope I can find my way out of the box to tell you about it on a regular basis. Until then, rock on.
Thanks to a welcome reconnect with a favorite percussionist, one Andrew Mrozkowski, I found myself in downtown Greensboro, NC enjoying a 4th of July celebration put on by one Bob Robertson, front and center for a band that will always hold a sacred space in my heart. Some of you will remember their name: FOLKSWAGGIN. They formed at a vigil the night Jerry Garcia died and spent the next 5 years taking us all on a journey of healing and self discovery. I had never listened to the Grateful Dead, nor anything that could be remotely related to a jam. Having been raised on pop music, with a foundation of vinyl which included 70s rock, classic country and classical, my mind was suddenly opened not only to a whole new sound, but an entirely new way to approach a career in the music industry.
I was a year into the last 17 years of single motherhood and the idea of any type of family was beyond enticing. The group of people that surrounded Folkswaggin was to be the first real family I had ever had. Melissa Hinnant, the Holder sisters, Mr. Hylton and Jason and Christina Blaylock, Shane Lee and David McCracken became a collective that I found to provide not only a new musical awareness, but ignited a craving for harmony and a safety that consistently supported those manic Sundays that had terminally haunted my youth. Although they may have been reluctant to allow this crazy newcomer a pass to production, the inevitable had no choice but to prosper. With the gift of connectivity to Bob, I found a path opening up before me that could not be denied.
Over the next few years, I volunteered for Bob as he grew a festival scene that would come to bring national artists from around the country to the sacred ground of North Carolina. Not only was I introduced to the jam band scene, but introduced to a wealth of my own unknown history through americana music and bluegrass. It didn't take long to realize that my grass was blue. Smilefest originated as a day fest at Castle McCollough in Greensboro and grew to join with the Little King scene of Green Acres just west on I40. By the time I jumped on the bandwagon we found ourselves celebrating music on an island in the middle of a lake and I was the backstage liaison from the 420 Cafe to the artists camp. We celebrated love, life and the pursuit of musical excellence at many spots along the way. While we ultimately found a home at Deerfields, here in Asheville NC, I personally began growing up during our years with Casey VanHoy at VanHoy Farms in Statesville, NC.
VanHoy proved to be place where we could convene to dream and manifest connectivity with artists that would last a lifetime. This is the spot where not only was I blessed to bring my older son, Ian, and introduce him to the beauty of excavation, crystals, bonfires and dancing, but welcomed my younger son, Joshua, into the festival world. This is the land where he was blessed to be introduced to the world by his father, Mark Griffith. Joshua was Simba for a day, and despite the loss of fatherhood he has known, this memory will always burn brightly in our cosmos.
This is the spot where I was blessed to meet and work with countless idols, including David Grisman, Jeff Sipe, Bela Fleck, Futureman, Larry & Jenny Keel, Keller Williams and the Lord of the Strings Vassar Clements. During these early years I was living between Clemmons and Winston-Salem in a spot called Lewisville. While putting the past behind me and hosting the ghosts of my grandparents on the daily, I was blessed to have this sacred spot in Statesville filled with love and friendship that allowed me to grow past my prideful beginnings. For these years of growth and learning, I am forever grateful.
It was also a time to learn from and begin to acknowledge so many artists I admired that would eventually become my neighbors as I considered the path to Asheville, NC. I was blessed to watch my son fall in love with Caroline Pond of the Snake Oil Medicine Show and be influenced by countless good men, like Jason Krekel, Phil Cheney, the Pond Brothers, Woody Wood, Mark Shimick, as well as all the amazing people we worked alongside. I was blessed to be reunited with church camp friends from our early days of escapism to college dorms under the guise of god. Gil and Ken were the first brothers I felt like actually respected me as their sister and gave me a safety net to sleep. Falling in love with amazing Matts and Jumanji and countless adorable brothers who gave me the freedom to ride with Scarecrow wherever the wind blows. I knew I was a baby, and it was okay. These were the days where I learned the safety to walk on stage. I will be eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to kick off one summer with the National Anthem, thanks to the goddess Niki Harrison, as well as perform with the children of the summer with my son on stage. Ian stood on one side of Vassar, and I stood on the other. We were surrounded by the talents of Larry & Jenny Keel, Curtis Burch and Rex McGee.
During this time I was also blessed to be taken to my first Merlefest by my aunt Diane Smith and volunteered the next decade in Wilkesboro, NC in order to devour as much incredible music as humanly possible for 4 days every spring. It was here I was first exposed to so many incredible artists, like Sam Bush and Chris Thile, who I have been lucky enough to work with many more times over the years. The Kuger Brothers, the Avett Brothers, Tift Merritt, Jim Lauderdale, Peter Rowan, Dolly Parton, John Paul Jones and countless others who I am sure will be mentioned in future blogs. One year, I sent Jim over a dozen cassette tapes with entries to the Chris Austin Songwriting Contest, formerly nailed by David Vai, and was blessed to utilize that same mailing to separate the church and state that was my relationship with my father and step mother. The entries were prepared with wraps and oils on a large glass table in their Texan den. Inside the glass was an altar to Michael Jordon, but their pentacostal ways believed my sentiments, intentions and aromas to be a sacrilege to their home and I was thrown out after a quick trip to the post office, soon to be rescued by one Blythe Hatcher and delivered to Austin for the 2002 SXSW.
SXSW was another groundbreaking entry in the life of a music industry dream. There I was blessed to become acquainted with royalty like Bonnie Simmons, Ethan Hawke, and Roy Carter, which led to a week in California later that summer soaking up the Snake Oil Medicine Show and many more great acts at the High Sierra Music Festival. This was also the trip that conceived one Joshua David Aragorn in San Francisco. I was totally stoked to become friends with Jonathan Schwartz, who took me under his wing and introduced me to a horde of awesome folks. We spent one epic night running around with the guys who founded JamBase and got to swing the scene with Umprey's McGee, Particle and so much more talent than I could readily absorb. He also let me crash in his awesome room, was a perfect gentleman and gave me a Relix wardrobe that I wear to this day. The cherry on the proverbial sundae was an introduction to beautiful brainiac Aeve Baldwin. At the time she was the new editor of Relix Magazine, who went on to become the Editor for all of Zenbu Media. She and I spent 5 hours sitting on the patio at Roy's in downtown Austin, drinking wine and making time to weave our visions together with laughter and tears. A few weeks later we both became pregnant and came to believe over time that our little beans were destined for many great things. She and her favorite aussie, Alex, were gifts to my cosmos and allowed me to bring my children to NYC for the ride of a lifetime. Two weeks of spiritual growth and unison with the streets of my favorite haunting grounds.
All this goodness also led to one global trajectory that shall be evident in future writings but shall only be mentioned today, in a final act of gratitude to all those moments where my mind took a turn at dysfunction junction and it was surely time to go talk to BOB. The blues are self evident and the brothers never stop coming. One summer at VanHoy Farms I was blessed to work for two great men, who I will write more about later. One Warren Haynes and one Ashley Capps. After a premenstrual moment of disdain and the limited publication of an essay called Bonnaruination: the Walmart of Festivals, I was invited to come work the 1st Bonnaroo. I quickly wrapped up a recording session in Baltimore MD at Nottingham Studios and struck out toward Manchester TN at 11pm on a Monday night. Tuesday morning was the beginning of a decade of Mr. C taking me to school and back, by providing a venue where I could check in annually to test my body and mind to it's absolute limits. Although, many a downfall occurred on that sacred ground, many a graduation was felt. I will be eternally grateful for every strained shit, every blister, burn and bellyache, every magic moment at the feet of another idol and every friendship that survived the chay.os. Hell, let's be honest, I am also thankful for every relationship that met it's bitter end. We were all at the bottom of a learning curve under those circumstances and many a good man and woman have found a place there to continue to thrive and overcome. Many a love lost and found. To sit at the feet of Bonnie Raitt, John Medeski and Jim Jarmusch makes every step through the mire worth it. To stand at the feet of Kris Kristofferson, Les Claypool and Stevie Wonder makes walking through the feces of others bearable. You may think not, but it's 100% true.
Along the way, we all find our scents and sense of power and freedom. We each have a destiny to fulfill and a vision to develop and devour. There are still countless songs to be written and dances to be danced. Together we grow, laugh, learn and live to our fullest potentials. Alone we wonder. Alone we find the space to loosen the grip on reality and together we wander without losing. These are merely a few highlights of history, herstory, and I hope you will come back to read more stories and find updates on the current wave of sound and sacrifice the musicians you love bring through the small picture window that is my perspective. Here in Asheville NC, we are blessed with live music every night and a wealth of talent that live in every direction. I hope I can find my way out of the box to tell you about it on a regular basis. Until then, rock on.
Friday, August 1, 2014
the optimus must be freed
27 hours of dizzy dichotomies. ghosts that fall around my roots are felt to the extremes of my energetic tentacles. all i can think is free the octopus.
i think that i am played with or foolish and regardless of which energy i allow to compel me, the push and pull is not a sensation i long for with this level of transformation. part of getting to the clarity of fullfillment in the many areas i desire satisfaction is allowing choice. change requires choice.
voices run like syrup across the flesh of my mind. enlightenment waiting in the innermost pockets of my most private thoughts. all the words that they read and only a fraction of the overspill. overkillage. mileage into the darkest abyss in moments of shame and industrialized patterns of off-center technique and shadows of virgins with a soundtrack of rock or roll. the darkness comes in moments when i hear shouting or billiards crack or "fuck the who". i want to have my own double bass so i can climb on top of it and make music like i've never heard. i want to tell you things. i do not wish to be your nin. anais in tatters on a dance floor under the moonlight, wondering who she really is to you.
as i finally release boundaries again. worn of trying them on. learning how they work. after all these twists and fits life turns the table to a speed so slow it is impossible to know when i've landed or if we are still creeping to the next click. boom. power is an illusion that is undaunting to me for smoke and mirrors are one of the simplest of the complex games. the ability to recognize one's self and find your way home without the physical reflection of vision... with power may come the golden cow but how becomes however and when the smoke clears the reflections are infinite to the point of becoming mundane.
i look back at an idyllic sound that i use to hear in my mind and realize that the sounds i hear each day are sweeter than those of another time, be it my past or fantasy and i realize in the know of no truman show there is no need for projection. no call for future this or past that. only you. and i am you to she and him and then we each come around again. please know what draws us forward as we let nothing enter between us that is not guided by voices of our own desire. set us free.
i think that i am played with or foolish and regardless of which energy i allow to compel me, the push and pull is not a sensation i long for with this level of transformation. part of getting to the clarity of fullfillment in the many areas i desire satisfaction is allowing choice. change requires choice.
voices run like syrup across the flesh of my mind. enlightenment waiting in the innermost pockets of my most private thoughts. all the words that they read and only a fraction of the overspill. overkillage. mileage into the darkest abyss in moments of shame and industrialized patterns of off-center technique and shadows of virgins with a soundtrack of rock or roll. the darkness comes in moments when i hear shouting or billiards crack or "fuck the who". i want to have my own double bass so i can climb on top of it and make music like i've never heard. i want to tell you things. i do not wish to be your nin. anais in tatters on a dance floor under the moonlight, wondering who she really is to you.
as i finally release boundaries again. worn of trying them on. learning how they work. after all these twists and fits life turns the table to a speed so slow it is impossible to know when i've landed or if we are still creeping to the next click. boom. power is an illusion that is undaunting to me for smoke and mirrors are one of the simplest of the complex games. the ability to recognize one's self and find your way home without the physical reflection of vision... with power may come the golden cow but how becomes however and when the smoke clears the reflections are infinite to the point of becoming mundane.
i look back at an idyllic sound that i use to hear in my mind and realize that the sounds i hear each day are sweeter than those of another time, be it my past or fantasy and i realize in the know of no truman show there is no need for projection. no call for future this or past that. only you. and i am you to she and him and then we each come around again. please know what draws us forward as we let nothing enter between us that is not guided by voices of our own desire. set us free.
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