List 1: Live Concerts

Saturday time-waster: favorite live concerts (in the order I think of them):

1.  Paul McCartney, Atlanta, 2002.  This was my dad's anniversary present to my mom.  He told me he was going to get tickets and asked if I wanted in.  I did, but I didn't want it to be too Brady Bunch-ish.  Fortunately I said yes, get me a ticket, because it was the single best concert I've ever been to (and probably will go to).  Paul McCartney has every reason to act arrogant, and yet all throughout the concert he seemed genuinely appreciative of (and surprised by) the audience's response.  Sometimes you go to concerts and it's like a huge effort for the group - the band isn't into it, and they almost make you feel silly for being excited.  Really, the Beatles' front man had every right to be that way.  But no.  Every time he finished a song and the place went wild, he'd look up with this surprised smile on his face, like he was thinking "oh, you liked that?"  He played for three solid hours - no warm up act, no break - and gave three encores.  Finally he came out and said, "You have to go home!"  Everyone screamed "no!" and he laughed and replied, "Well, I'VE got to go home!"  All these years and he is still a fantastic musician and performer, but like I said, his attitude really made it even better.

2.  the everybodyfields, Bristol, 2008 (or possibly 2007...not really sure on this one).  the everybodyfields is a now broken up Americana band from Johnson City (they say Knoxville, but don't listen).  They got a name for themselves, even getting picked up by Ramseur Records out of NC.  Every time I saw them prior to (and after) this concert, it was outside.  That's what I was used to - standing in the sun (or freezing at night), sweating, and probably smelling like beer because someone accidentally spilled it on you.  That's appropriate for some concerts - the Americana "newgrass" movement can get pretty raucous, and it's fun to be standing up and screaming like it's punk rock.  Anyway, I never realized that that was not the best way to see the everybodyfields until I heard them..in a library.  My JC friends and I all loaded up one day to see them, and I'm thinking we'll be outside, we'll be standing up...and then we go into a regular-sized room and sit in seats.  Already I am confused...we're going to sit down through the concert?  The only time I ever saw that was on VH1's Unplugged.  But man, was it incredible.  One of my favorite songs of theirs is "Lonely Anywhere," which was somewhat fitting for where I was at the time (just out of grad school, no idea what to do with my life).  Again, I was used to hearing it outside, but in this intimate, enclosed setting...it was incredible.  In the middle of the song is a brief pause, and I can still hear it in my head - the way the silence echoed around the room.  In that split second, you could hear a pin drop.  The performance nearly moved me to tears, not because of the lyrics, but because of how Sam and Jill sang them.  It was beautiful, and I'm never going to question a concert in a library again.

3.  Dave Matthews Band, Knoxville, 2001.  I think I've seen DMB a handful of times by now, and I've since stopped following them.  I still like the same songs I loved in high school, but honestly, they are a link to the past and not really part of my present.  Anyway, during my junior/senior year, my best friends and I went through a big DMB phase.  I don't know who or what started it, but we loved DMB.  And just before graduation, the group came to Knoxville.  We scored tickets, and even though they weren't together, we all shared that experience.  It was maybe the last big thing we did together as a group before going our separate ways.  I remember us being close to UT's campus, and talking with my friends who would make that their home.  We had fun, we always did, but it was sort of bittersweet - I knew in a few months we'd scatter.  I still remember feeling that way when I think back to that concert, but now it's followed by the comfort time brings, and the knowledge that just like good music stays good no matter your address is, your friends will always be your friends.


4.  The Avett Brothers, Knoxville, 2007.  My problem with seeing the Avett Brothers now is that they are too big.  I don't want to sound like one of those music snobs - someone who only likes bands no one else has ever heard of and drops them the moment one of their songs is played against a car commercial.  What doesn't appeal to me is the crowd that comes along, because I am not a fan of crowds (and unfortunately, the AB concerts get more and more like frat parties).  I was lucky to see the Avett Brothers a few times before they got big, which meant less people.  Probably this was one of the last times, and is definitely one of my favorites.  I caught it with a Johnson City buddy, and Seth and Scott (and Joe and Bob), as always, rocked.  Their albums are good, but part of the reason people like them so much is to see them perform live, because they always put on a show.  I think this was the first time I saw "Pretty Girl from Chile" performed live...and if you know that song, you know the transition at the end that makes it so memorable.  They always play it up!

5.  Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers, Owensboro, 2011.  This was one that I almost missed.  I kept seeing promos all summer that Steve Martin was coming to the ROMP Festival...and yet I waited until the last minute to buy tickets.  I cannot explain why.  I love bluegrass (especially "newgrass"), I love Steve Martin, I love music festivals that haven't been totally overun by people.  There was no reason for me to not go to this.  Finally I got my mind around that, and found myself sharing the same breathing room as Steve Martin.  I didn't have the best seat, but did make it up from when he first came out to get a photo.  After that, I was content to sit towards the back and enjoy the music.  And let me tell you, this man can play.  Forget comedian Steve Martin - this dude is a serious musician.  Well, serious until he cracks jokes between songs...or sings something like "Jubilation Day" or "Atheists Ain't Got No Songs."  Yeah...he's still Steve Martin.  And he gives one helluva performance. 

6.  Transiberian Orchestra, Johnson City, 2005.  My boyfriend at the time loved TSO, and introduced me to them 3 years before.  I immediately loved their albums, and when we were at TTU, we had a chance to see them live at the Ryman in Nashville.  It was a good concert, don't get me wrong...but the Ryman's kind of a big deal.  Which means, all you better do is play, because you don't want to damage the auditorium.  I didn't realize that until we saw TSO again two years later, at Freedom Hall.  Apparently when they are not in a historic venue, they have pyrotechnics.  And they also make it snow.  Again, not just a concert, but a performance!  The BF was part of the fan club, so we had close seats.  Ever since, nothing gets me in the Christmas spirit quite like power chords, headbanging, and fireworks.

7.  The Washington Sax Quartet, Chattanooga, 2000.  Now for something completely different!  On Leap Day 2000 (it's crazy I remember that), my Dad and I went to either Baylor or McCallie (private schools in Chatt) to see WSaxQ.  (Fun trivia - this is the group that plays the intro/transition music to All Things Considered on NPR).  This was back when all I wanted to do was be a professional musician and/or composer.  I had just turned 17, and that's what I wanted in life.  This group was pretty well-known in the saxophone world, so Dad and I shot down to Chattanooga to catch their performance.  What's cool is that they played all kinds of different stuff - classical pieces, covers of the Beatles, modern works they had written.  It was all over the board.  But two things stood out to me:  first, their cover of Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings."  Typically you hear that piece performed by, well, more than just 4 saxophones, but that group nailed it.  The build up to the crescendo and that four note climax is just incredible.  If you're familiar with the piece, you know that after the climax is a pause - a couple of seconds of silence.  Once again, the silence was deafening.  I forgot there was a number of people sitting in the same room, which makes me believe we were all captured in that same moment. 

Coda:
The second thing I remembered about that concert was what happened after - when I got the group to sign my CD.  "I play saxophone too," I told them proudly, as only a new 17 year old can.  "And I want to perform and write, just like you.  Do you have any advice?" 

At that, one of the members looked me straight in the eye and said, "Yes.  Get out now." 

At first, I thought he was being an ass...but 12 years puts things in perspective.  I have a complicated relationship with music - one built around obsession and neglect, which is now relegated, when I am the musician, to solitary basement concerts.  Such a relationship is flaky and possibly unreal, sure, but it also has nothing to do with my livelihood. 

Words - now, that's something stronger.  I can make a life with them.  But if I had made music my life, I would have hated it.  And too much of my life is invested in music for that to happen.

On Obi-wan

I had a teacher - one of those remarkable teachers that you know at the time is remarkable and know every moment you are in class, you are learning more than you know.  She taught us and cared about us: the tough love you need as a high school sophomore and the actual love you need as a graduating senior.  She was young, but she got sick during my senior year, when my friends and I had her for AP English (many of us taking that class just to have her one more time before leaving), and she died the next year.  And that day was ten years ago today, though it was late when she died and I would not find out until ten years ago tomorrow.

-  -   -   -

Today I taught class and planned some college events and lived life as I normally do.  I got home and saw the memorial on facebook, and that's when I remembered.  Then people started posting stories.  Memories.  And it hit me: she had written a poem for my class, and likely she did it for every class, but we were the last ones, the last ones to have her for the full year.  I have carried this poem with me always, because its truths become more self-evident with each step towards what I guess is adulthood, or, maybe more accurately, life.

I went to the spare closet, where I keep four liquor boxes full of paper-stuff.  This paper-stuff has traveled with me through the decade, accumulating with each new location.  Every new zip code and mailing address I'll tell myself, "I am going to sort through this."  But I never do.  So, I had to dump it on the floor, knowing that the poem was somewhere, because I had typed it up to tape up in my first office, the first moment of the first day of the first year that I had to teach.  I typed it painstakingly, making sure to keep the same punctuation and format, and proofing to make sure I typed "swift," which I rarely wrote, and not "shift" or worse, "shit."  I typed the poem and carried it with me because she taught us all so much and even if I didn't want to teach, or thought I didn't want to teach before I actually had to do it, I still wanted to be just like her.  It was a good reminder.

So I unearthed the paper-stuff and with each new layer, there was more to remember.  More than just her.  People found in clippings I'd kept.  These others had left too, checked out early either by their own choice or something else's.  Papers I'd written as a college student, a graduate student, a teacher, with handwritten comments left by individuals I respected.  Pictures of friends who had long since left, or whom I'd long since left.  Boxes of this.  All part of a past I'd collected for over ten years, and still don't know what to do with.

Why hang on to it, why cart it around from state to state?  It should all be recycled, it should be burned, it should be thrown away.  I know this.  Papers are not people.  Pictures are not memories.  But eventually they are a physical representation of who you are.  With each new face, I saw who I'd become since knowing them, since last seeing them.  Who I am still becoming.  Who I still was. 

So it remains a reminder, for now.  Not a shrine.

"Armed and Dangerous"'

May 7, 2001

By: Sherry Godsey

I have given all that was mine to give-

Knowledge 

Love,

An example of courage, and

Swift kicks in the shorts.

You are not ready for the real world...

(I know this, for no one ever is).

You are as ready as you will ever be, armed with your-

Faith,

Resolve,

Thirst for independence, and

An education fit for queens.

You are dangerous now,

Ready to take on the universe.

Try to remember the universe is also ready to take YOU on, with-

Lions, Tigers and Lovers,

More knowledge than will fit in your brains,

Sleepless, worry-filled nights, and

Demands that will scare you awake.

Remember.

Remember.

Remember.

It is all you really have to sustain you.

Mixed Metaphor Jamboree: What I think about when I think about writing

I couldn't run for shit five years ago.  Despite always being active and relatively in shape, I could not run.

That sounds weird, I know.  Running is basically fast walking, and people typically nail that down before they can remember.

But it's more than that, apparently, and if you're thinking about things like distance running, everything matters.  Like how your feet hit the ground and how far apart they are and where your arms and hands are and even how you breathe.  That stuff all matters.  The little stuff you never notice, it determines whether you'll get it or not.

Which is why it took me about four years to get it somewhere near "right."  And I only know it must be right - right for me, maybe - because I can do it regularly and I don't hurt after or feel like I'm going to pass out.  This is success.

All this to say, when I think about writing, when I think about teaching writing, I think about running.

Part of the problem of teaching is that we teach things we are good at.  Things we enjoy.  And unless you wind up teaching graduate courses, you will have classes that half of the students do not want to be there.  I've watched colleagues battle this and even thought it myself: they love the content, so why don't the students?

Because writing is like running.  Some people can do it naturally.  Some people can't.  If you can't do something easily, chances are it becomes something you do not care for.  Hell, I took a grade reduction in middle school gym any time we had to run the mile, because I didn't want to deal with the hassle of not being able to do it right (or do it at all).  And again, I wasn't the inactive kid - I was good at sprinting and biking and swimming and sports.  I just couldn't run.

But running is like writing, and the idea is that you have to start small and apply it.  You don't run a mile, you walk for five minutes and jog for one minute.  Then repeat.  Then repeat again the next day.  And you don't write a full essay, you write a paragraph.  Then repeat.  And repeat again the next day.

The trick is, you have to actually do it, because maybe half of these skills is mental but that's not the half that actively produces anything.  It's just the inspiration and motivation.  We're all authors in our heads, but the "real authors" put words on paper and show it to people.  That's a big step, but you gotta walk for five minutes before you can jog for five.

And those of us with the pen on the other side of the table?  We're the ones with the stopwatch, maybe not keeping time at first , just acknowledging the success of another lap as the runner passes by.  Because writing is like running: it gets easier with practice, but you gotta get your feet on the ground.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control

Oh right. I had this thing I wrote in once. And then I stopped. Such is my downfall.

But thank the gods for technology, eh? Since I apparently can't remember to update from my laptop, Apple's taken care of adding a blogger app (which, annoyingly, is just for iphone...meaning I'm seeing it on a much smaller scale on the ipad, which I also have to sit upright rather than longways, otherwise I'm typing sideways. Man, first-world problems.)

Anyways, I've been reading some great stuff in the last...uh...two years. So I'm gonna get back on writing about that pronto.

Oh, and the ipad. I have to clarify this, because I usually don't own anything expensive brand-new. I won this sucker from a skill game for two dollars. Two dollars, man, and it was a buck a chance. I know the company probably made a few grand off of people trying for it, but I'm the lucky jerk who got it for less than the cost of a good cup of coffee.

What makes it better is I wanted one. But I wanted it like I want a moon rock, or a date with Ed Helms or something. Think pipe dreams, and then go beyond it. If I had that money to drop, I could never justify it because it is totally not a tool for productivity (hence, blogging).

So the reason I have this ipad (and the reason I am mentioning it) isn't because I am a hipster. It's because I have really good hand-eye coordination (thanks, video games!) and am sometimes just really, really effing lucky. Not a bad combination at the end of the day.