The Red Accordion Diaries

This whole blog started as a writing exercise, a promise to myself that I would write daily. Writing prose is easier than writing lyrics, at least it is for me, and blogs are a special form of writing. They are visible to all, but generally recognized as a lesser form of the genre. At least it has been until recently, when bloggers lately are viewed similarly to columnists of yore.

It amazes me how many readers I have, and it amuses me how most of them nowadays know me more for blogging than for singing. It also makes me incredibly aware of what I write about, to the point that I second guess myself constantly.

Sometimes when I know I need to blog, but I'm having writers-block or just feeling uninspired, I will write about what's on my mind. Sometimes that stuff is personal, so I don't go into ALL the details ... partly because I know that people I don't know are reading .. and partly because people I DO know are reading.

For example, I've been worried about Monday's Christmas-Present Blog for the past two days. First, I'm worried that I upset my own parents by making it look like they deprived me at Christmas time (Mom said last night that I have "selective memory." I say she's the one with a family history of Alzheimer's, and I bought that Nintendo with my own money.) Second, it's bugging me that Friend-with-a-Truck's family will think I'm nuts, although that's clear enough if they read my blogs with any regularity.

It's easy to hide behind a song. Songs can be fiction, and a lot of mine aren't even about me. But the audience chooses their own interpretation and relate it to their own lives. I love that about music. Most people think "Future Mr. Used-to-Be" is about my life. I can tell you right now that it was inspired by a laaaaaaaame guy that my Best-Friend-from-First-Grade dated a few years ago. You may or not believe me, and that's okay.

When you're blogging, it's harder to hide. Now, obviously, I don't WANT to hide, or I wouldn't be writing a public blog. It's just that there are some parts of my life I don't want to advertise, and there are some friends of mine who don't need funny stories about them splashed across my public Facebook page. So they have monikers, like Friend-who-Cooks-Pancakes or Friend-with-a-Truck or Best-Friend-from-First-Grade. And I'm sorry if you wish I'd use their real names; I'm not going to, for their sake, not for mine. I talk too much as it is.

Anyway, the balance of all this blogging-real-life-stuff has just been on my mind. Maybe it's time to get introverted and start writing songs again. It's been a while.

Here's a little secret: I rarely ever have band rehearsal. On some level, I envy those bands that get together twice a week, but mostly I like the element of improvisation that comes from little-to-no rehearsal. Blame it on my jazz background, but I prefer it that way. I love the communication that comes on stage ... when I play a 7th chord and my bass and guitar players know that means the next chord is up a 4th.

Also, I am just impatient and don't like to practice. It's like when you took piano lessons as a kid and you hated practicing, but you loved being able to play the songs. It's also why my band is made up of three killer professional musicians. Steve Cooley doesn't so much need a rehearsal, you know?

We got together last night for about an hour because I've got some new tunes that are kind of weird. I write a lot of unexpected chord changes, and it's not really nice to spring them on the band during a live show.

I was bummed because Scott (drums) couldn't make it at the last minute. I didn't miss his drums so much as I missed his jokes. He's the funniest person alive. Seriously.

Peter and Steve are good at making me laugh though, and they are also killer professional musicians. We could have absolutely played these new tunes without one minute of rehearsal, but it was really fun to get together. I love sitting around in a room, listening to Steve mess around with a new toy pedal and playing the perfect riffs when he's never even heard the song. And I love my total amazement when I realize that Peter, who is the new King of Pop, is playing a honky-tonk bass line like he's done it his whole life. I end up sitting there listening to them so much that I forget my own songs.

Anyway, it was nice to play music with the boys again. I should do that more. Sure do wish I could put them in my pocket and take them on the road. I'm not afraid of sounding like an a**: I've got a great band.

Come out on Thursday, Dec 17th, to the Monkey Wrench at 8:00. $5. MC Watkins opens with a few songs right at 8:00, then my band should be on by 8:20. Should be a good time, if you're interested in hearing the boys and me play: Brigid Kaelin, Peter Searcy, Steve Cooley, Scott Lankford.

This was a jam-packed weekend, but mostly I did Christmas shopping. Believe it or not, it's a pretty foreign concept to me. My family never really did anything big for Christmas or Chanukah. I'm an only child and didn't grow up really close to my few cousins. I was amazed when my friends would get 10-15 presents each, all big-ticket itmes like Nintendos or computers. I was happy with new underwear and a Hawley-Cooke gift certificate (and I still am, for those of you shopping for me. Except Hawley-Cooke is long gone, so if there's any way you can give me gift certificates for Library Fines, that would be awesome). Even in grownup life, my family is not big on the gift-exchange, and I haven't made a real Christmas list since I last wrote to Santa Claus.

But Friend-with-a-Truck's family is pretty big on the gift exchange, so I am learning how this works day-by-day. I am troubled by it, and I feel ridiculous that it's bugging me. You'd think it would be a simple concept, right? Not so for this over-analyzer. I'm confused by lots of things, but mainly it's the logistics. Are we supposed to buy presents directly from other people's lists? Doesn't that take the fun out of it? Or is the list truly a useful device, like a wedding gift registry, so they don't end up with 20 salad spinners or Wii Fits? What if you find the absolute perfect gift, but it's from a Thrift Store? Is that rude or weird?

Anyway, I spent the weekend wrestling with these questions and stressing out a bit over something that I know deep-down is really quite simple. Buy presents for people. Don't worry about it too much. It's the gesture that's important.

Oddly, I feel like I understand American Christmas much better now. I always wondered why people were stressed out during the holidays, or why they felt the need to buy-buy-buy, and this whole Jesus-Consumer Debate, which I never understood because, well, we were neither into Jesus nor Extreme-Gift-Giving, so it wasn't really an issue. I get it though, and I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing. It's a nice excuse to buy something reeeeeeeally nice for someone.

I'm staring at a corner of my house which is now piled up with packages (and lots of packaging, which makes my stomach turn a little as my mind drifts to landfills and all the wrapping paper that will be used and thrown away this year) and I'm feeling a few things. First, I am sick at the sight of all the packaging and gift wrap and I'm wondering how weird Friend-with-a-Truck's family will think I am if I try to recycle the wrapping paper or if I wrap all of their gifts in the Sunday comics like my dad always did for me. Secondly, I feel oddly American and looking forward to seeing a big Christmas morning. Thirdly, I'm kind of excited to give these folks their gifts, to play with some of these toys. Fourth, I clearly need to get more presents for my parents. I really think the Library should sell Overdue Fines Gift Certificates; that would be perfect for them.

Off to the shops!

You know what I'm talking about ... when you haven't been to the grocery in weeks, or maybe you just don't feel like cooking even though you bought all those ingredients. And somehow you are perfectly okay with eating noodles with butter. Or just a big bowl of frozen broccoli (microwaved, of course). Or peanut butter and apples with a toasted cheese sandwich -- not grilled, because that would involve getting out the butter and dirtying up a pan that you definitely don't feel like washing. It's a genre of food in its own right, and it's something you certainly don't talk about with your friends.

I was in Nashville a few weeks ago, staying at my attorney's place (I hope someday when I'm hugely wealthy and someone is interviewing my attorney for the story of my life, she tells the story of how the poor, struggling artist used to crash at her house after shows because hotel rooms weren't an option, even though, really, we just liked to hang out and drink bourbon and play Tori Amos songs on her piano.). Anyway, I was there, along with her husband and my Friend-with-a-Truck, and we were trying to figure out what to do about dinner. Nothing sounded particularly good, and we didn't feel like going out. Problematically, there wasn't quite the right variety of ingredients in her refrigerator. There were some great options, just not quite a whole meal.

Then someone suggested we just eat "Single-person food," and somehow, we all immediately relaxed.

We've all eaten single-person meals before, but there is much progress in being able to eat Single Person Meals in front of another human being... to admit that you're perfectly okay with noodles and butter (which is what I ate) ... or with toast and just-past-the-expiration-date gouda ... or better yet, with boxed macaroni-and-cheese.

It's nice to feel that relaxation of not having to put together a perfectly balanced meal just because you may have an audience. At the same time, maybe it's time to go to the grocery store?

I was explaining to some new friends over the weekend (yes, while I was in The Bahamas ... sorry I couldn't resist mentioning it just one more time) how touring is neither glamourous nor profitable. I love being on the road, and I think I'd travel non-stop if I could afford it. But that's just it: it's essentially a non-profit venture. Unless you're playing a big festival with expenses covered, you're generally not making any money. Then my new friend said, "Why do you do it if you don't make any money?"

This took me off-guard because it's really a valid question. Clearly, I'm not an artist for the money, but I felt like an a**hole to respond with, "Art is not about money." So I paused to think about it for a while. Why DO I do this? I was on the fast-track to a Network News Producer when I was barely 20 years old, and I left it behind ... to be a musician? That's crazy. Maybe my friends were right. Besides, booking tours takes so much time and energy, not to mention all the press calls and posters you then have to mail, then the actual time and money it takes to travel. But it's just not an option to not do it.

As an independent artist in an age where people expect music for free, being on the road is one of the only ways to keep your name out there or actually sell a product. But that's not why I play either. That's over-simplification. I really have this bizarro need and drive to sing for people. In public. I will never be one of those artists who focuses on the record, and writes in their basement all day, and never performs. I can't do that. Sometimes I wish I could. But recording is my least favorite part of the business. I absolutely love being able to connect with an audience.

It's clear to me that for my own sanity, I need to tour more. That makes me laugh because I sound like a weirdo hippie artist who just needs to create and perform. But it's a question of what makes me happy, and apparently, entertaining a crowd with music makes me happy. Seems so simple, right?

So with that in mind, I'm very much looking forward to next week's show in Louisville. I might even bake cookies for everyone to show just how much I appreciate y'all letting me entertain you. Chocolate chip or sugar cookies? Those are the only ones I do.

I love my job. I've got a gig in The Bahamas this weekend. Hopefully it'll make a much better blog than my oh-so-exciting Cleveland tour blogs. The musician life is really not that glamorous, but it sure does feel awesome this weekend.

You know that scene in Annie when she first arrives at Daddy Warbucks's mansion? They show her around briefly and ask her what she wants to do first. She looks around thoughtfully and replies, "The windows. Then the floors. That way if I spill..." Then all the servants laugh heartily and sing a song that explains to her she doesn't have to do any work and her mind is absolutely blown.

Well, that's how I feel when I saw the house in the Bahamas where I'm staying this weekend. Except no one sang to me. That would have been pretty awesome though.

Yeah, I know, it's cold and crappy in Louisville and most other place in the US, so you might not care to read about the High of 81/ Low of 79 weather we're having here in Freeport, Grand Bahama. Sorry 'bout that. I'll be returning to reality on Monday, when I'll surely begin the yearly spiral into Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'll get my due.

For now, though, I don't play until Saturday night, so I'm enjoying palm trees and oceans and Bahama Mamas. All in the same time zone as Louisville.

I spent the whole plane ride chatting with my cohorts on this adventure and therefore got no sleep on the plane. Vacation mode kicked in in the Atlanta airport, as demonstrated by the spicy Bloody Mary. Tyra talked me into another cocktail on the second flight -- I love to fly, but lately I haven't been so good with the turbulence. Vodka helps.

Immediately after arriving at Tyra's house here, and ogling the beautifully decorated rooms and stunning views, we headed for Banana Hut or something. Unfortunately we couldn't find the boat key, so we had to take the car. No one's in a hurry here, so we sat at a picnic table on the beach for a long time (in American minutes) before the server brought us menus.

We ate lunch and rather than waiting around for our check, we walked out to the beach. And laid down. And put our toes in the water and our towels on the sand. I was a bit dehydrated after the Bahama Mama I'd had with lunch, so lying on the beach wasn't the best move for me.

But it was glorious. I've never seen water that turquoise, and Tyra tells me it's all muggy in comparison. Pity me, right?

(meant to post this yesterday, but we only just got the internet on, sorry!)

I'm rackin' up the frequent flier points this week. Having just returned from Texas yesterday, I wake up at 5:00am tomorrow to catch a flight. I know what you're thinking: Poor, poor pitiful Brigid, always flitting and fleeing. 'Tis the life of an adventurer and musician, and don't pity me too much... tomorrow's early morning flight is to The Bahamas. I'm playing there this weekend, so if you've got any friends in Freeport, send them to Shenanigans.

Come to think of it, this'll make the third country I've played in a bar called "Shenanigans," having also played one in the US and one in Liverpool (Go Gerard!!!). Maybe I should do an entire world tour. Could someone please compile a list of all the world's Shenanigans? And maybe also get booking info and detail a sensible routing? Maybe THAT could be my Nouveau Thoreauvian memoir ... in which Brigid spends a year traveling and playing pubs called Shenanigans. What sort of sponsorships could I get out of that one? And by the way, please don't steal that idea ... I think I'm on to something...

Anyway, just a few thoughts before I leave town:

1) Quit hatin' on HullabaLOU. So it isn't aimed at your target demographic, so what? When something big comes to Louisville, I think we should support it and quit all the factions. So Richard Marx isn't the hippest guy ever. Who cares? Churchill Downs is über-cool for using its venues for more than just horse-racing. (That Stones concert in 2006 was one of the best concerts ever.) And now Louisville's got TWO big music festivals in the same month. We should be telling our friends all over that our town rocks.

2) I got a press copy of the film They Came to Play, (go watch the trailer!!) which is showing one-night-only this Friday, December 4 at Village 8. I'm not sure why a cool indie-flick like this is at Village 8, but apparently The Village, as we called it in middle school, is branching out. I haven't finished watching the film yet, but it's awesome so far. It's about the International Piano Competition for amateur pianists. If you've ever taken a music lesson in your life -- whether you were forced to or it was your choice -- you should check out this film. It's won all kinds of awards, and it's charming and entertaining. Can't wait to finish it... and write a full review. Perhaps from the Bahamas...

3) I like when I get press copies of things. You should send me things. I'll blog about them, and then a few thousand people will hear about your stuff. Especially send me things like chocolate and bourbon. Remember, I'm still working on my annual Holiday Gift Guide! PO Box 5803 Louisville, KY 40255-0803. 'K, thanks!

4) Mark your calendars now, please, for Thursday, December 17 at 8:00 pm. My band is playing an intimate show at The Monkey Wrench. It's our Christmakuh Party! Dreidels on the tables and ornaments on the bass player.

Off to look for my swimsuit ... I'm going to go meet me some Bahamians!

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Brigid Kaelin