The Next Gig: The Salon's New Year's Eve Eve

frankly, i prefer hanging out on new year's eve eve -- there's less hassle in general, things aren't too crowded or touristy and if you find the right situation, you can lounge and have fun in a high octane enviornment with a minimal amount of fuss.  new year's eve has turned into a real amateur hour in this town. there are all these things that you're supposed to do -- like going to times square to watch the ball drop, for example -- that aren't really that much fun at all.

you want fun? here it is: the salon's new year's eve eve.

this happy gathering of well-heeled swing scene stalwarts is an annual, elegant, non-stop party of epic proportions: over 40 performers -- jazz musicians, banjo pickers, burlesque dancers, djs spinning 78s on vitrolas and the like -- take over 3 floors of the dl, a beautiful newly restored hotspot in the lower east side.

each floor will have a different band, a different vibe. the first floor will be dedicated to the 1920s -- a lot of hot jazz from red hook ramblers, a lot of crooning from gelber and manning and of course lovely tunes to dance to from dj michael "the barber" haar of the ragged phonograph program.

he's not the only dj, either. each floor will have one.

the second floor -- the red room, lined with red walls, laced with red chandeliers and studded with red furniture -- will be filled with blues from ron sunshine and his band.

the third floor -- where i'll be, for an early set -- has a beautiful water fountain, huge tropical trees and a retractable rooftop that's kind of breathtaking because you can feel the clear expanse of sky hanging just above your head. i'll be with my quintet the hot five, playing an extra special first set crammed with billie holiday's rare sides and well known tunes. i'm out by 10pm and then george gee and his orchestra takes the stage for the rest of the evening.

the hot five:

todd londagin: trombone, vocals

hilliard greene: bass

warren smith: drums

al street: guitar

patience higgins: tenor sax

now, doesn't this sound like a fun night out?

if you can't lindy, don't sweat it -- just show up early for a complimentary dance lesson.  there's hand crafted cocktails for your drinking pleasure, of course.  and yes, lots of burlesque all over the place.

i'm looking forward to dressing up like its 1935, seeing a lot of familiar faces from the swing scene, sitting in with ron for at least one song and going home early, like a sensible little bird. after all, i'll be chirping on new year's eve, at the astor room.

doors open at 7pm. they'll be ripping it up until 2am, easily. get your tickets in advance here for $25. (vip tickets are available, too.) the cover at the door is $30 but here's a tip: if you say "yehoodi" at the door, they'll give you $5 off.  huzzah!

see you there!

right now

right now/at this moment/currently, i'm

1. probably curled up on the sofa and having an after dinner/before bed hot toddy
2. reading the devil in the white city
3. heading to spa castle this week
4. wondering what i'll wear for this year's new year's eve eve bash. (if i can get back into what i've got, i won't have to buy anything else...)
5. totally in love with my fitbit one
6. eating clean for the rest of the month with mpb
7. doing a wintertime kccm castor oil challenge
8. rewriting my musical the billie holiday project
9. submitting said musical to nyc theaters next week as a christmas present to myself
10. taking guitar lessons from this guy

Tender Moments with G. Calvin Weston, Part 1: "In my office! NOW!"

Having started his 30+ year career as a musician with harmolodic saxophonist/composer Ornette Coleman at the tender age of 17, it's safe to say that G. Calvin Weston is a drummer of epic proportions.  It's his innate musicality, however -- a seemingly indefatigable desire to emote vocally, as a countertenor would, augmented by a verve towards sound and vision -- that makes him four dimensional as an artist.  One would think he was from the deep South.  Calvin is grounded and yet he is ethereal, a heady mix of what can only be described as a sophisticated hick that is refined and aware, set adrift upon the performance stages of the world.

We just came off a European tour with James "Blood" Ulmer, hopscotching all over creation and then some.  I would say that Calvin and I became what most people would describe as fast friends but that isn't exactly true. The truth is, Calvin and I met and realized that somehow, we already knew each other. At least, that's the way it felt on my end.

How does he describe it?

It was after the gig, when we were at the bar at Kunst & Kulturhaus in Oblarn, Austria that Calvin turned to me and said, with a great deal of astonishment, "Do you realize we only met four days ago?" Then without warning, before I could fully express my mutual wonder and admiration, he smiled broadly, threw his hands up triumphantly as though he'd just made the touchdown of a lifetime and yelled at the top of his lungs, "It's like you fell out my balls!"

If I wasn't mortified the first time he said it, the third time probably sealed it for me.

Of course, the back end of the bar roared its approval and applauded raucously. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. All I could do was cover my face with my hands. Later, I remember thinking, well that was a compliment, really -- as only Calvin could give.

And that's pretty much G. Calvin Weston -- in a nutshell, so to speak.

Once they were up and positioned and tuned, Calvin had the habit of calling his drumset his office. There were too many moments when he would insist that I photograph him there.  It is with this in mind that I give you a pastiche of images from any given soundcheck from our happy jaunt through the Rhineland and beyond -- Calvin, hard at work, in his office.



Rehearsal, Music Hall Worpswede -- this is our sound engineer Joerg Mohr's home base.






Porgy & Bess, Vienna Austria



That's a glimpse of Joerg, moving and repositioning that drumset for the 5th time.



Cinema Paradiso St. Polten, Austria





Altes Kino, Landeck Austria



BIX Stuttgart Germany





A-Trane, Berlin Germany -- with Joerg checking Blood's monitors.



The view as I tilt open the backstage door.



At Altes Plandhaus in the round, Cologne Germany

We had big fun in Oblarn!

As we drove through the Swiss Alps into Oblarn, I remember thinking that it looked like something out of a German fairy tale: it was a simple little village at first glance -- such pastoral surroundings replete with cows and sheep, and then wooden bric-a-brac trim and shutters framing pastel-colored houses that were sandwiched together just so, with snow capped mountains that imposed themselves upon you in every direction, hovering just out of reach, heavy with fog and wonder. Only the cars that zipped through the narrow streets made it all tumble into the present day.  I was genuinely surprised to see cottages tucked into so many crevices in the mountains. If I were a little kid, I would think that’s where all the happy little goats and rams live.

As soon as we got near the venue, Calvin snapped to it abrubtly and remembered exactly where to park and how everything was situated. As it turns out, he was there in April with bassist Jamaaladeen Tacuma and guitarist Vernon Reid as Freeform Funky Freqs. There was no internet in the hotel but the venue – Kunst and Kulturhaus, built in the 12th century – had wifi and luckily, it was open for immediate load in. From there, everything exploded into a million beautiful particles that continue to shine. What a big surprise. Oblarn turned out to be the sleepy little place that wasn’t so sleepy after all. The food, for example, was tremendous.  I had the trout, which I loved. I should have gotten the lamb, which was astonishing. (Isn't Calvin nice to let me eat off of his plate all the time?) Mark had the beef stroganoff, which tipped the scale towards fantastic. Unfortunately, that was enough to send us to bed, or at least a good little nap. When I eat that well, I know I'm going to sleep like a child.

In spite of a momentary snag during the set – Blood thought someone was videotaping the show and he stopped everything to figure it out – things only got better from there, really.  The music began to shift into overdrive early on. I distinctly remember the feeling of being blown back by the sound of Blood’s guitar – like a jet engine, churning and unwinding – and not being able to stop my body from flinching repeatedly. And then I looked into the audience and saw another girl who was having the same reaction. The visceral response is an honest one.

The audience was warm, enthusiastic and genuinely appreciative. Later, as I went to search for something to eat, I found the bar and more people. Hans gave me a long narrow beautiful bottle of local schnapps. I can’t get it anyplace else, I can’t order it online. What a conundrum. To me, local things are really the best there is because they are so inherently unique. As commercialism threatens to turn everything into a strip mall, such things grow more and more precious. And sacred, somehow. I don’t usually drink and I just loved it. It tasted like pears and elderflowers. Treat it like medicine, Hans intoned. I am absolutely drop-dead terrified that I will break it before I return to Harlem, so I wrap it very carefully in a thick towel and bury it in my luggage everytime we stop and go. 

No one behind the bar had ever heard of mescal – my personal favorite. I think I’ll send some as a thank you. If I could, I’d leave a bottle of high grade mescal in my wake, everywhere I go that loves me.  When it’s done right, it’s the absolute limit.

I had to leave eventually for the sake of my voice -- my physical body is my instrument and if I don't get the rest I need (and not strain my voice by talking in loud bars) I won't be able to sing. It doesn't help that I have GERD, either. 

On the other hand, Mark and Calvin closed the place down. Calvin is a big kid but I think that Mark is still recovering…

My #1 Eat Clean Inspiration: Annette Larkins

lean, strong, vibrant, healthy - with a glowingly pretty, wrinkle-free complexion and plenty of energy to spare. who wouldn't want that? then again, i suppose the real question is, would you be willing to give up eating garbage to have all of this?

the first time i saw this story in the video below about mrs. annette larkins, it freaked me out so much, i didn't eat meat for a week. i'm not the kind of person that can't make it without a hamburger ever other day but if what little meat i consume is damaging me as much as i think it is, i'm ready to make the jump - if not to veganism, most definitely to eating clean. as a matter of fact, i stumbled onto the eat clean program after i saw this. it's been slow going since then but thankfully, i haven't looked back.

this 70 year old lady - a resident of miami/dade county, by the way - has maintained a raw vegan lifestyle for 27 years. she grows what she eats in her backyard - everything from nuts to aloe - which she calls her fountain of youth. she simply doesn't eat anyting that's cooked.

absolutely no cosmetic surgery whatsoever. amazing, right?

here she is with her husband of 54 years.

people usually assume that she's his kid. he takes medication for diabetes and high blood pressure daily. he looks like he's falling apart - especially in comparison to her.

i honestly believe that after a certain age, you can't eat and drink whatever you want without paying a high price for it - especially nowadays when so much of what we consume has been genetically modified and is loaded to the absolute hilt with salt, fat, sugar, additives, antibiotics, preservatives and lots of other colorful and interesting things that our great-grandparents would never consume.  they'll put anything in food these days. anything.

i'm growing towards eating clean and after 3 very solid go-rounds, i'm very nearly there - totally over starches like rice and potatoes, carbs like pasta and fast food like mcdonalds. i can even keep salt and sugar and fat at arms length without freaking out too much. i do have a permanent weakness, however, for chicharones. (God help me.)

don't get me wrong. i've always stuck to a pretty healthy regimen. the thing is, i've hit a fork in the road, so to speak. i have to work harder to maintain it all and i feel myself giving way sometimes - eating the wrong things, not hitting the gym for a week, falling off in one way or another. when this happens, i see and feel it almost immediately. 

i can't slack off anymore. i've got to get a grip. i mean, seriously. look at annette!

Today's Sermon

here's a video sermon (!!!) from today's service, with pastor carter conlon of times square church -- Prayer For a Desperate Hour.  watch, listen in and be blessed.

wait - whodidwhat, now?

apparently, myspace is making a comeback. this should be interesting. (hm. better find my passwords and update my junk...)

The new Myspace from Myspace on Vimeo.

the charleston sc short list

i can't leave here without these five things:

1. benne wafers
2. muscadines
3. black pudding
4. palmetto roses - my favorites!
5. vidalia onions - i know the season for growing them is over, but maybe someone has pickled a few...

progress: fitness, clothes, life

“Fashion can be bought. Style one must possess.” — Edna Woolman Chase

good news, sports fans: i'm getting my body back.

every season, i fight for it all over again -- the size 4 body i had when i came to new york city a million years ago. i don't fight for it out of vanity, either. sure, it's a job requirement. pulling this off certainly feels like a full time job. and yes -- after years of living hand to mouth with absolutely no insurance whatsoever, i consider maintaining a lean, strong, healthy body with exercise, clean food and vitamins to be preventative medicine. the real reason is that i'm simply too cheap and/or broke to buy new clothes.  i love my vintage dresses, pencil skirts and what little designer items i have too much to throw them away.  i'm not trendy enough to keep up with what's hip.  wearing the latest fashions takes a lot of money. most of that stuff looks pretty tacky on me, anyway.

why, it's almost as though i'm about to get a new wardrobe because i'll be able to wear all these clothes i haven't been able to fit into in ages.  more on that some other time.

what's my big secret? i stopped eating garbage and got my butt to the gym everyday. i try to make it happen in the morning because although i love the way exercise makes my backside look, i really don't like doing it. and no, i'm not a morning person.

here's an interesting little clip about how little exercise it takes to change your life.

Source: youtube.com via Queen on Pinterest

ten things

i'm getting ready to skip town with blood. in my head, my bags are already packed -- sort of. one of them is practically empty to make room for all the stuff i'd like to bring back, like kirschwasser and kindereggs (just in time for halloween!) and of course, something strange and unexpected, like a vintage pair of lederhosen. (just in time for halloween!) who knows what i'll find, if i look hard enough.

believe it or not, i need a separate zippered container in my suitcase for all of my beauty products -- because frankly, my left leg could drink up one of those travel sized bottles of lotion overnight, all by itself. and no, i'm not even going to get into how thirsty my thick, thick hair is in its natural state.

this is my latest list, spun out of me haphazardly on the way to the gym:

1. zantac
2. grether's pastilles blackcurrant glycerine drops
3. universal adaptor
4. digital recorder
5. humidifier
6. slippery elm tea
7. small (but powerful!) mini-speakers
8. collapsible water bottle
9. collapsible to-go container
10. motrin

there's got to be a better, more efficient way to travel internationally -- without paying a lot of fees. maybe this is it.

I don't get it

Why would Mr. Peanut want to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll?

Good hair

(Thanks, Chrissi J!)

see how beautiful harlem is?

stunning, right? taken earlier this afternoon as i was zipping down the cherry walk on my bike. enjoy.

saturday classics

when i was a kid, it wasn't really saturday unless i spent the morning watching bugs bunny in my pajamas. so of course nowadays something in me wants to oversleep, crash land on the couch in my underwear and watch cartoons.  i can't think of a better way to start the weekend.

i don't understand people who think that television is bad. i think there's something fundamentally wrong with them -- especially when they watch tv shows on whatever computer they use.

it's not an idiot box. it's whatever you make of it.

i love bugs bunny -- but more importantly, i love chuck jones. he was and still is a constant inspiration. through those wb cartoons, i learned about opera, slapstick, vaudeville and consequently, the proper usage of the lazzi from the classic commedia dell'arte tradition.  because you really can't do comedy without understanding the anatomy of the lazzi -- and nothing teaches it to you like a good bugs bunny cartoon. 

of course, i learned a lot of novelty tunes and tin pan alley songs. sometimes i even sing them on my gigs. more on that some other time.

a few thousand words

i almost forgot.

here are a few stellar moments from a performance of an as-of-yet untitled piece that i'm growing with dancer/choreographer francesca harper. its an exploration of billie holiday's life and times through movement, music and multimedia. these moments photographed here found us dancing to the sound of her speaking voice, edited from an interview that she did with mike wallace, accompanied by pianist jeremy bacon.

we did this at the first ever harlem arts festival in the newly renovated marcus garvey park ampitheater. huzzah!

this performance has clung to my heart ever since for several reasons. first of all, it happened on my birthday. i really felt as though something wonderful was born on that stage that day. or maybe it was growing out of the pit of me all along. what it was, i can't say exactly. i remember feeling especially overwhelmed by it all. and grateful.

secondly, i danced -- something that i was always made to feel that i was incapable of doing. more on that some other time.

interestingly, francesca has instigated all of this movement in my life -- or at least, tilted my perspective enough to make me believe that i can do it. and i am doing it -- professionally. i met her at a boardwalk empire audition for jazz dancers. we both got the gig and i've been kicking up my heels (more or less) ever since. it's so important for me to challenge myself, to do things i've never done before, to push myself outside of my comfort zone, to try new things. if i don't, i will not grow. and if i don't grow, then really, what's the point?

 as kenyatta beasley watched me dance with the francesca harper project, i think he was totally overwhelmed.   "i didn't know you could do that," he kept saying, like a mantra.

"neither did i," i replied breathlessly.

and lastly? afterwards, kenyatta remarked, "you danced for me today. you dancing was a gift you gave me." and him saying that felt like the best birthday present i had ever gotten and would ever get, ever ever ever.

Lillian Lopez, Rest In Peace

 I couldn't help but take notice when I heard about the passing of Lillian Lopez today, at the age of 76, from cancer.  She was an original member of the 70s dance group Odyssey, the one who sang their biggest hit, Native New Yorker.  I quite liked the group. I thought they were breezy, lush and elegant.

It is understood that emotional connectedness to a song - having it belong to an important person or situation, for example - is what sells it and keeps it alive. Immediately, my mind floated back to the moments when I would ride around the city with Ralph on our way to God knows where, blaring this song. The way that he would stop, sometimes in mid-conversation, to sing these particular lyrics emphatically will be forever engrained in my memory.

And love, love is just a passing word 
It's the thought you had in a taxi cab  
That got left on the curb  
When he dropped you off at East 83rd

Click here for a colorful and interesting blog/blurb/review of their self-titled album. (Totally forgot about the Good Times episode.) Interesting tidbit: they were managed by (a then unknown) Tommy Mottola.

Election Protection? There's an app for that!

there's a jillion apps out there for everything that you can think of -- from the mind-numbingly idiotic to the daily necessity. sorting through a veritable sea of options at the flick of an eye is the way we define ourselves digitally and stitch together the ordinary moments in our modern lives. in the best case scenario, an app will make the world -- or at least, your world -- a better place.

along comes election protection, an app that puts all the information you need to know about voting -- including the rules and regulations for each state! -- in the palm of your hand. this could seriously hinder voter fraud and give everyone an instant civics lesson.

from their website:

In order to meet the needs of the Digital Age, the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, National Association of Latino Appointed and Elected Officials Education Fund, New Organizing Institute, Rock the Vote and Verified Voting Foundation have joined forces to deploy the Election Protection Smartphone Application to provide all information and resources, in English and Spanish (branded Ya Es Hora), that voters need to fully participate in the 2012 elections.

what a brilliant idea.

stats say that most people who use cell phones prefer smart phones, most people of color use smart phones and the smart phone usage is strongest amongst african-americans aged 18-34. why not reach people of color right where they are -- on their smart phones.

i suppose that would shed some light as to why black folk and latinos dominate twitter, for example. but i digress.

wouldn't it be great if everyone had this app?

pause, shift gears and go

i'm eating clean for the next 30 days -- and working out diligently every single day with my boxing coach -- to jumpstart my system, dropkick myself into fall and give myself a boost physically. whatever seasonal sluggishness i feel needs to dissipate. i have way too much work to do.

i even joined a workout group, to keep me on the straight and narrow. the sticky part? taking "before" pictures and weighing in every week.

everything feels like a new beginning, somehow. the rain is off and on all week and i want to feel sad about it but its washing away the filth in the streets and making everything new all over again, especially when the devil beats his wife. 

yeesh. it almost feels as though i'm saying goodbye to the sun.

Happy Labor Day, y'all!

"A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depend on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving."  -- Albert Einstein

I hope everyone found a way to enjoy what has become the unofficial last day of summer. The great news of the moment is, now that the season is pretty much over, i've found a way to grill in the ghetto.  And I didn't do it on the sidewalk.

I can't believe summer is about to be over.  Time is flying, crazy fast. If you're in Gotham, here's some things to do in the month of September that might soften the blow.

big dreams, scary moments

Source: Uploaded by user via Queen on Pinterest

 

I don’t know where my ideas come from. I used to think I dreamed them up but sometimes when I take a long walk, they jump me in the street and drag me away. I resust, of course. But I know when they stick when I can’t stop thinking about them. Unfinished songs -- bits of lyrics and imagery and feeling -- spilling all over my clothes and making my hands sweat. A twist to a one act that I would never have considered if I hadn’t gone down that street and run into that guy and had that conversation. Hearing an argument and writing it down compulsively.  Sneaking away from a bunch of screaming, cavorting friends to sing a strange melody into my phone. How ever do they want me, pretty much.

Tuning into all of this is where the fun begins. Having the discipline to organize all that flotsam and keep chipping away at all of it until it grows into art – well, that’s fun, too. What am I saying. Nevermind my student loans, hanging from my neck like an invisible noose. When things are purely creative, it’s a fun life.

And now, as everything shifts –body weight and waiting games and weighty matters, summer into falling into the back of my closet, the sun moving away from me dejectedly – I am starting all over again, as usual. Twitter – yes, Twitter – has presented several challenges that are going to clean me up and out just in time for me to be bright and shiny and new in time for the new year.

Joan Crawford was right. Everything is discipline.