henriette + howe [barbican 04/2006] : by nickie divine
howe on 04.30.06 @ 09:36 AM GMT [link]
Howe's Journal ....a book of lies
Howe's Journal ....a book of lies
Sunday, April 30th
APRIL 2006
Sitting on the fence of dense coincidence
0 – being asked by the harley riding sister of poca cosa restaurant if I could please set it up to have bob dylan come and have her restaurant cook for him after hours. I tell her there’s no way I can hook that up, and then end up doing it by not trying too hard.
1 – I get comped tickets from dylan’s new guitar player due said mexican dinner. result is, out of the 10.000 people there, our seats are directly just behind tom larkins (our old drummer from the 80s and johnathan richman’s current) and patti keating (rainer’s widow) who had bought their tickets months ago…and whom are also seated exactly behind winston watson (our other old drummer from the 80s and bob dylan’s for 4 years) with alison (our mechanic ) …just all thinking how weird the coincidence is ….until matt ward and his wife shows up and sits exactly in the seats in front of them.
2 – next morning, mentioning to matt over breakfast at the poco cosa restaurant where dylan and band had ate …that the opening set by merle haggard was thick with reminder of how I spent the 70s here in tucson listening to him because of my room mate, curtis jon tucker, always playing him. Within moments, chuck tucker walks in the restaurant, jon’s brother, whom I have not seen in 20 years.
3 – landing in newcastle the next day to play a solo show. When they sat up the piano, they tell me last time they set it up was for daniel johnston. …which is the reason I have traveled this far, unknown to them, to play at the daniel johnston tribute in london day after next.
4 – on the crowded train to london the next day, the family sitting next to me tells me they recognize me from the barbican they saw me host in 2001, which is the same venue I am headed to play now, but haven’t played since the show they mentioned.
5 – seeing vic chesnutt and his manager and how they both talk a lot about mark eitzel, whom I haven’t seen in years. And then me going off alone to italy the next day for a show, and upon return to london the day following, running into mark at the airport, him flying in from sweden.
6 – then waiting to meet mark at an almost empty bar that last night in london, easter sunday, when a fellow comes to the table to ask if I just did a show with john doe in los angeles the week before. He was there, though he never heard of me before, but liked the show and bought all 3 cds.
I only had 2 there however.
7 – the end.
howe on 04.30.06 @ 09:21 AM GMT [link]
Sunday, April 2nd
thøger + howe - red sand meander-thals
howe on 04.02.06 @ 10:43 AM GMT [link]
now ...almost - the end of march 2006
Last night john trudell came to town. He accompanied a film based on his life.
It’s was a powerful thing. When he took the stage afterwards, his stance was one of “intelligent coherency”. That was the crux. He fielded questions, all of which were mostly muddled in similar incoherency, a babble that must have been brought on by his proximity or the confusion of hearing the questioner’s own wordings crumble in mid air. He would bring the point back around in his patient way; back to his stance.
He was impossible not to embrace.
The murder of his family will forever be too severe to erase.
Music was the thing he seemed to count on most after it was all said and done.
I wanted to help him record more of his songs but got lost in the moment to ever make it known. I had met him briefly by accident 20 years ago at a pow wow in down town LA moments after we had just bought our new born baby a doll handmade by an indigenous fellow there. She still has it. But trudell has left the building again. Dang.
- -- - - - - - --
The massacre of the brian harvey family is also unshakable.
This occurred on new year’s day 2006 and was barely represented in the news.
No follow up. Just some horrific details of the method of the murder and, eventually, news of an apprehension of the suspects. But it serves to raise the bar on man’s inhumanity to man at it’s most incoherent. It does not makes any sense in any way.
-- - - -- -
Back in hollywood, when our daughter was almost 2 years old, a woman called ‘spock’ would baby sit on occasion. Spock managed some performers at that time, including lucinda williams, and that’s how we got to meet then. it was at a tiny sea food restaurant/bar there where me and lucinda hunched over the bar all night long after we both finished up our gigs there. And it was also the same night john convertino and i first played out as a duo, which we then continued for a year to come world wide.
Since paula brown had been playing bass in giant sand, and our marriage was then on the rocks, and since chris cacavas needed to work on his own band, it seemed that for the umpteenth time the line up was about to change. But this time I was ready to do something completely minimal. Something I could count on no matter what. I would go it alone if I had to, but asked john then if he wanted to give it a shot as a 2 piece.
I knew it was possible to pull off a 2 piece because of witnessing another 2 piece band that spock managed. They were doing it very well. They were called ‘house of freaks’
and that was brian harvey’s band.
- -- - - - --
Next week I’ll be heading back to LA. I hardly ever go back there, but have been invited to be a guest at a weekly show that john doe hosts. I cannot refuse. His old band X were one of the very few that would come to tucson back in 1980. They were, and still are, my favorite band to see live. And billy zoom is the reason I play a gretsch guitar […and maybe neil young too.] But the drag is the same night I have to play LA, is the very same night lucinda is coming to tucson to play. Dang.
Anyhow, it is a strange and wonderful thing when you end up having conversations with sonic heroes you chose when you were young and so impressionable. Same with robert plant. There is a point during casual dialogue when it kicks in, like pavlov’s dog, that the sound of their voice triggers some crucial knee jerk hoo ha from so many years ago when you were ripe and in dyer need of such sonic deliverance.
Yeah, well, sometimes its fun being a human. Incoherent, but fun.
- - - - - -
Next month bob dylan is playing tucson too and only 6 blocks from our house.
His opening band is merle haggard. Last time I saw merle here was when he played outside at the dog track with the lonesome desert trains moaning through his set.
How can I not see that show. How many years can they have left in them?
Problem is that it’s the same day I should be leaving to make my gig in newcastle, england. with a day to rest first after the long travel. So I will take the plane a day later instead and show up the very day I am supposed to perform there, which is a very dangerous gamble these days for me.
Look what happened at that hamburg gig when I only traveled 8 hours the same day I had to play. This time it will be about 20 hours all in. but newcastle is my favorite town to play in england. Something happens there during the shows that always seems similar to a soccer match. The crowd explodes when you score a good song.
And there is always a ton of fiery dialogue from the crowd, which makes it all the more fantastic. They never say thanks there. They say “champion”.
Then 2 nights after that I will partake in a tribute to daniel johnston at the site of our london “gig of the year” back in 2001, the barbican. I met Daniel back in 1986, the year before we had our daughter patsy. paula and I went to Austin to see if we should move there.
It was too hot for us then, and none of our friends there had any air conditioning. Nor did my old van. But I remember going down to the mcdonalds, where daniel worked to talk with him. He seemed like a sweet kid then, and I loved his homemade cassette only release of ‘hi how are you?’ and I liked the idea that he could handle playing about 3 songs a night at his live shows and then had to make a run for it out the rear window of the venue. That made sense to me somehow. If you could nail the evening shut with just 3 songs, then all the better. But since that would be impossible to explain to a promoter, they would think you were 2 six packs short of a full case, it would seem a coherent way to exit. I have not spoken with him since though, but funnily enough was considered, many years ago, to produce a record for him on atlantic by the same fellow, yves beauvaix, who would oversee rainer’s tribute record, “the inner flame”, that was brought to him by robert plant. Whatever.
Anyway, the only other thing I remember about austin then besides daniel and the hellish heat, was stopping in the continental club on the way out of town. I forget why, but I only went in to the club for a minute. There was a band that just begun and no one else was in the place. Just me and them. I remember how great they sounded that night, the singer in the most torn up jeans ever with ratty blond dreads. But they had a wonderful guitar attack, loud and deadly. Anyhow, paula was still waiting out in the van, I had to leave, but I was held there for I don’t know how many songs. I get like that still when something grabs me like that and time becomes elastic. Anyhow, the band that night turned out to be soul asylum. Yip.
- - - - - -- - ---- - - --
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
howe on 04.02.06 @ 10:38 AM GMT [link]
giant sand - up in anywhere, france - feb/2006
howe on 04.02.06 @ 10:30 AM GMT [link]
feb 24 - mar 17 = 2006
I went to france the other day. St. malo. They wanted giant sand for a festival there.
Ok. But I forgot it was a festival until I started to play the set. It is important not to play like you are in a small club to a festival crowd. They are not all your people, they have been getting high for hours if not days, and they will never be able to understand any gamble of the usual sonic endeavors steeped in the sensitivity of the improvisational moment of impact. You have to understand that to play to a festival crowd. So I should not have chosen a newly written piano ballad based on the state of affairs of the mucked up world at large. No sir. But zipping out of it with the piano to the tune of “shine on harvest moon” cracked me up enough to be able to then explode with a burst of tightly strung rockers for most of the set on guitar. When a woman came on stage and grabbed my hat to sashay up to the mic with lovely hip sway, I decided to keep it all business and yanked the hat back to my head without missing a beat in mid song. Thus, I am a yankee. The look on her face then was like she just woke up out of a spell, naked in front of a 1000 people. 10 years ago maybe we would have had a waltz instead, but not now. She ambled off the stage bewildered. Dang it.
Then rainer came on the big screen from our silent running video clips, and I had to stop everything and have them turn him way up. After that, I lost the thrust. When I began to engage severe guitar again, the rental amp blew up. I slid to piano and pounded out a rag while the stage crew switched out the amps.
Usually in europe, we always have a crew to help with things. Most times in the states we never do. The last time we had a serious roadie along, we turned him into the “friends of dean martinez”, which of course begat calexico. So sometimes it just seems like good luck to go out with no crew. Like there in france. Just 4 guys setting their own stuff up and playing some songs no matter what happens. And when something does go wrong, then that becomes part of the survival ethic. So, as I pummeled the piano, I peripherally kept an eye on the new amp that was being set up, and seamlessly switched then back to guitar to commence with the same song that was self edited so many triplets ago. We were mostly loudly coherent that night.
I hope.
- - - - - - - - - -
The next day I was off by myself. Train to paris. Nothing but a cold rain to greet me.
Same usual hotel there. Same favorite restaurant. Same soup de poisson. I am resembling that of an aging traveling salesman. I am living the so called good life as a character in “death of a salesmen”. My dad was a salesmen back in the day. I even allow myself the wearing of a turquoise bolo tie, albeit thrift store acquired, but still, one of the very things that we hated 25 years ago when we would get to open for X.
The next morning I met with the parisian business people, then another train to belgium to continue now to promote the next record. This is about when I think I began to get confused.
I was just in the thicket of all things giant sand, playing a lot of the new songs yesterday that will be on the next record, but now doing interviews in paris-brussels-amsterdam-london on the “ ‘sno angel” record coming out next week, but then landing directly back in new york for a solo tour that will still represent the last release from september, arizona amp and alternator, until I land a few days later back in ottawa to rehearse for the first time for the following month tour with the gospel choir, songs I recorded 2 years ago with them.
When I hit Ottawa, I was told of the 5 star review in mojo for ‘sno angel, and 4 more stars for AAAA. I could not rehearse very well that night thinking how much I did not sound like what I thought a 5 star recording artist should sound like and therefore, instead, how much I sucked.
Before all that, I babbled on about the record in brussels for 2 days.
Same thing in amsterdam. But apparently when the interviewer got done with me, he looked confused and then mumbled he was now late for his next appointment across town with joey burns. Meanwhile for me it was breakfast in brussels, lunch in amsterdam, and then the day would end with a late night dinner in london. Death of a salesmen style.
- - - - - - - - -
New york was good once I got over my arm hurting from the day of travel getting there. I opted for dousing it with a medicinal vodka ace bandage applied from the inside, administered one bar at a time, there alone wandering the streets of brooklyn until a friend found me at the 5th bar. The night ended with me playing congas in a brazilian bar to a dj, and then getting in a cab and waking up at the hotel.
Death of a salesman maintenance again.
The show in Brooklyn was very good. Great crowd and great people running the south paw venue there. Great piano too. It was a pleasure not to drink at all. The arm seemed to behave. No pain. After the show the frigid winds turned against us humans.
I ambled off alone and found a car service back to the hotel. The room was large.
- - - - -
Then up to canada. Montreal crowd was surprisingly full at the show and was also the first time me and drummer jeremy gara got to play again since we recorded ‘sno angel so long ago. Him and I were asked to open for a wilco stateside tour, but jeff tweedy opted to take the high road and head into rehab then. The tour emerged the following year with calexico opening, and jeremy had become the drummer in the arcade fire.
I headed to Ottawa next and during my solo show there, brought up the entire 14 piece band and choir for the last half of the set. It was a stunning sensation. I have never felt anything like this. Never had this feeling playing music before. If the idea was crazy to begin with, then what you have is a loco motive. And that is what it feels like when it all kicks in, choir and all, the train really starts tearing up those tracks.
- - - - - - - -- -
Then I was off again to a tiny town called kitchener at a sweet little soulful club there called the boathouse. It reminded me of pennsylvania. There I would meet the joan bissen who used to be married to that incredible piano player in the blasters, and herself a formidable player. 7 hour train ride there though had left me weary though.
- - - - - - - -
Next day I headed to toronto. I never do in-stores anymore, but since I have this cherished feeling that canada usually knows what it’s doing, I agreed to do 2. The one
in montreal was severely delightful and surprised me how many folks showed up, even though it was minus 20 outside. Now this one in torornto yielded my old buddy who shows up here when I play; mary margaret o hara. She is a hoot and a half and I adore her. She has a rare spirit that can stir the molecules in an entire room to a sizzle. Her sister looks just like her and used to be in a show called second city tv . Rainer and patty and i would never miss a show back in tucson when it was a ghosty tv town. So seeing her also reminds me of those best of times.
The other funny thing was a cd I discovered while there. They turned me on to this incredible gospel choir recording from 1971 doing only bob dylan songs.
A very good omen.
- - - - - -- -- - --
So then finally I get to go home and wrap myself around the family.
The very next week is sxsw, and it always feels great not to go there anymore.
Not because I hate it, but because we had about a decade of great memories from doing it since 1989 when john and I were a 2 piece. After so many years there, they began to give us our own night to fill up with any bands we wanted to. We would have bands that no one heard of yet, but I knew were ‘lifers’; folks going to stick around and make a sonic difference. Medesky martin and wood, grandaddy, matt ward, vic chessnut and such.
And I also don’t go cause it’s my son’s birthday the weekend they have it.
But its good to have the bands roll through town here that are heading there. Good to see some old friends and check out some young bands without having to go anywhere.
So scout niblett came though town about then. Always love to see her. She alone is still is my favorite rock band. Had her and her new drummer stay here at the house. We went down and recorded a song at wavelab for good luck. A little bow wow wow cover mixed with the obvious bo diddley.
That same night she was set to play at solar culture. When we went down there, her set had been pushed back an hour and I was already restless and tired. I’m not good when bands go on late anymore. The moon was full and I opted to just head out alone for a bit before coming back to see her play. It was still bizarrely cold for the desert this time of year. I got in my truck and went to see where it would take me. I wanted to be alone for just a little while. I figured it was the moon.
That’s about when I realized I did not recognize the street I was driving on, which was impossible since it was down town tucson. I was driving up the wrong way on a one way street was why. Everything was turned around in a perspective you never see.
This was a shock. How did I do this ? I had not been drinking at all but I did feel a bit out of my mind. I blamed it on the moon.
So I yanked the car around and headed out of there. Drove up another block and then carefully chose the correct bar to head into. Figured maybe a single single malt might settle the restlessness. I picked the congress grill because maybe I needed a sandwich too. I got in there and tried to listen to the inner hunch to figure where to sit. I looked around and found the right seat to settle into.
Not a big deal. Sat down. Ordered up. And after a few minutes, the only table with people at it that were facing me, although clear down the other end of the restaurant began to stir and a woman started to walk toward me from it. I didn’t look at her at first. Kept just mulling over the newspaper in front of me, until she actually stopped at my table and said “excuse me, but I am the girl from the bottom of the canal”
[at this point it would behoove you, the reader, to scroll down here and go back and read my halloween story here in the diary section to get the full impact of this impossible moment]
She and her friends were headed to texas and only stopped in tucson for a moment, to take a break from the endless drive and get some food before continuing. And so it was at these precise few moments I happened into the same joint they randomly chose, and also just happened to actually sit in a seat that faced each other, just minutes after she told her friends the story of that fateful night at the bottom of the canal.
As we were dazzled by proximity, she recalled to me the very thing I said to her when she resurfaced from that torrid muck of canal dip, half frozen, half drowned;
“Now what’d you go and do that for ?” said i.
Apparently this has become something of a catch phrase now back at her local bar.
dang.
- - - - - - - - -
howe on 04.02.06 @ 10:23 AM GMT [link]
red sand in st. malo
howe on 04.02.06 @ 10:04 AM GMT [link]
