Dawn Xiana Moon: Intelligent folk pop with influences from jazz and traditional Chinese music. From Chicago.

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Saturday, November 27, 2004

Adventures in Northern Michigan, Part I

Last weekend felt momentous--little was actually different, but it felt different, like I was stepping into the next phase of my musical career. It was the first time I've taken a couple of days to play in cities both reasonably far from my home base, one right after another; with one more stop, I could have called it a Northern Michigan tour. As it was, the trip wasn't quite a tour--I know, I sound like I'm making a big deal out of two days--but it was filled with adventures ("Um, where's the road?"), crises (almost an hour after we were supposed to have left town: "Where's Steph?"), and interesting characters ("Alex got shown up by a one-handed guitar player!").

Crisis #1 began on Friday afternoon. Alex was coming on the trip to sing and play keys and Steph was coming to sell merch and make the weekend that much more fun. But at 2:55pm she was nowhere to be found… and we'd planned to leave Ann Arbor at 3:00pm at the very latest. We called her cell phone but she wasn't answering--odd for her, but I was running late gathering musical equipment from various sources anyway (it's a challenge gigging regularly without your own functioning guitar and sound system). Alex called Godiva to see if Steph was still at work for some reason, but she'd already left so we figured she'd be home in a few minutes. Along came 3:30pm. And 3:40pm. Still no Steph, and she wasn't answering her phone. At that point we had to leave because we were running the risk of being late for the show that night.

Crises #2 and #3 began an hour later. Probably half of my guitar songs require a capo and I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten mine. And between myself and Alex, we'd forgotten/made incorrect assumptions and he didn't have music. Fortunately, Crisis #2 only lasted four minutes and 20 seconds thanks to Alex's phone, his friend James, and James's computer, who located the nearest Guitar Center. When we got to Saginaw, we took a short detour--a half hour roundtrip--and were set. Crisis #3 was resolved dictating chords to Alex as I drove along the freeway, a frustrating process hoping that I was telling him the correct ones since for me piano and guitar parts are all muscle memory, not chord names or progressions.

Adventure #1 revolved around Guitar Center in Saginaw. After a five-mile detour--not so bad, in light of later mishaps--we found the store in a strip mall, next to Best Buy. When I walked through the glass doors, I was greeted by a friendly employee; when I told him I needed a capo, he started pulling one of each available type from behind the counter so I could take a look at the various brands. I realized what he was doing and I pointed to the specific one I wanted so he wouldn't have to pull any more off--I was in a time crunch, remember--and told him I also needed medium nylon picks. At that he realized that I play the guitar and we started talking about music, trading website info for our respective projects. Alex said something about not being able to play and Don, my new friend, quipped, "Everyone can play guitar--I've got one hand and I can play!" He went on to explain that he plays a left-handed guitar upside down and holds the pick with the stub of his other arm. I was impressed, and Alex felt silly.

Adventure #2 involved missing our exit--and not seeing another one for eight miles (I was tempted to turn around at one of the gravel medians that the police use--there were two--but it was so dark that I couldn't see them until I was right on top of them, and that's illegal anyway). That little mistake took around 10 minutes and 16 miles.

Adventure #3 involved another unintentional detour, this time totaling 26 miles. Our directions from Yahoo Maps were slightly off--they instructed us to head toward Gaylord (which I found out later that night is pronounced "GAY-lerd") but Petoskey and the show were in the opposite direction. We figured that out when we stopped at a gas station/general store strangely reminiscent of Florence, Ontario--perhaps all small towns have similar places?--and asked if we were going the right way. Interestingly enough, during this adventure we passed a Caution: BUMP sign twice (once heading the correct direction, once not) and never saw or felt the mysterious bump. However, at that point it was nearly 8pm and the woman at the counter told Alex that it was an hour and a half drive to Petoskey. Trouble: the show was supposed to start at 9pm. Which brought us to Crisis #4.

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Friday, November 19, 2004

Phantasms and Anchors

You leaned into the cheap diner booth, and it metamorphosed into the interior of an old train, padded and warm and gleaming wood. Amber light. I was on your right, comforted by the familiarity of your arms, chest, the stubble of your unshaven chin, disquieted by the promises and retractions hanging pregnant in each syllable from your mouth. Then looking at the scene from an outsider's perspective through the window, drawn to the lamp glowing in the corner and touching feet. Hovering as the train sped by. Back in an embrace, to a pulse that was becoming home--but I didn't know if I wanted to go back.

Earlier in another prognostication of this chimera, the choice was clearer--I couldn't, I had no desire. But in a season of feebly suppressed doubts and shifting shadows on the sundial, the offer seemed more enticing.

However, reality offers few remedies for the advancing tide. Of the possible alternatives to pianos in dark rooms, none are wise. Permissible, but not beneficial. As they have been for months.

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Monday, November 15, 2004

Call Me Scrooge (for another two weeks)

Christmas is my favorite holiday--or season, as the case may be--and that time of year used to start after Thanksgiving. But I don't know if I've just missed the transition in recent years, but this year Christmas started after Halloween. Halloween. Somehow going from ghouls and witches to baby Jesus and evergreens is a bit sudden of a change, at least in my book. I kid you not, a week ago I was in a car without a CD player (my music player of choice) and was flipping through the radio dial when I discovered that one Detroit station has already started to play a continuous string of Christmas carols. And as much as I love those songs, I don't want to hear them for another two weeks. Likewise, my roommate Steph, who works for Godiva, says that all of their decorations are up already--they've been for a while, actually--and Starbucks is covered with white paper wreaths. When I was at Meijer yesterday I saw stacks of candy canes and red- and green-foiled chocolates; Alex was actually confused at first and thought that they were leftover Halloween candies on sale. But no, the over-commercialization of American culture creeps upon us steadily, and who hasn't felt the pressure to start Christmas shopping? You know the stores can get away with jumping into tinsel-clad displays so quickly because we the people are buying into this as a culture; they're selling merchandise as soon as they bring it out, so of course they'll continue to move up the start dates every year.

I, for one, refuse to think about buying presents until the day after Thanksgiving. We need to stop the madness. Anyone else with me?

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Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Adventures in Canada, Part II

Or how to pretend you've been to Europe for a weekend without getting in a plane. Read Part I here.

While we were in the restaurant, the torrents started. And they didn't last long, but apparently some of the streets in Stratford (European Name #1) are really low and we plowed through river after river. Then came the sea. And the car drowned. We were buried in water three feet deep--if we'd have opened the doors the interior would have flooded immediately--and the car stalled. And wouldn't start again. After a slew of frustrated tries and anxious prayer, we were finally back on the road, contending with foggy country highways so dark you couldn't see more than five feet in front. Between calling Alex's father, a former mechanic, at 1:00am, directional confusion, crossing the Thames River (European Name #2) twice, worrying that the car was going to die--the "Check Engine" light alternately flashed and stayed solid--and non-existent visibility, it took us over three hours to make it to London (European Name #3) and Steve's apartment, what should have been a half-hour drive. (During the last 20 minutes of that drive, Alex and Melanie started laughing hysterically for unknown reasons. And couldn't stop.) We were greeted at the door by Daryn, whom I'd never met... and no Steve. So after deluge of stories about our misadventures to the poor stranger, who very kindly humored our need for not-us interaction after being cooped up in small spaces too long, we decided to hunt down our host, who had left the apartment hours ago in an attempt to guide us to the appropriate street by standing outside. Luckily, finding him was not as difficult as it very nearly could have been.

We spent the next morning eating fresh scones (courtesy of Steve and his culinary skills) and learning the merits of various types of teas and how one should brew them for optimal flavor (courtesy of Steve and his virtu) and the afternoon tinkering with the car, which was still unhappy, exploring Stratford, and consuming chocolate. That evening's production was again disappointing; as one reviewer put it, "The production of Macbeth... is not the worst one I've seen, nor is it the best. But it does have one unique distinction: It's the most boring." Lucy Peacock (Lady Macbeth) was overwrought and peaked too quickly; by the end of the play, when she becomes insane, she had nowhere to go--which was a shame, because that part is one of the most coveted by actresses in theatrical repertoire. Graham Abbey (Macbeth) was wonderful when he was enraged, but lacked the ability to enliven the rest of his speeches or understand the inner turmoil of his character. However, the lighting breathed life into a minimal set and Sarah McVie (Lady Macduff) gave a vocally beautiful performance.

After the production, we stopped in to Molly Bloom's for a dinner of fish and chips, one I'd been anticipating for weeks prior. We were lucky enough to catch an Irish band, and Alex made more new friends by singing along to songs he didn't know (in a noisy pub, who can tell?). By then Melanie was falling asleep, so we headed back to London--in a normal timeframe, since Steve was there to direct us--and dropped Melanie off at the apartment. The rest of us had a wonderful conversation on relationships in a café, hiding from the madness of Devil's Night in a college town and the requisite scantily-clad sorority types.

The next morning saw another breakfast of scones and tea (though since I was sleeping Steph ate my share); we finally left our Canadian friends in the afternoon and made the trek back to Ann Arbor. Too late we decided to take the Detroit tunnel home rather than Port Huron (a desolate drive) and spent some time in confusion, heading in the right direction but on unknown roads, trying to find the freeway that went toward Windsor (European Name #4) before it was entirely out of the way. We'd been driving through nothingness long enough that everyone was concerned that we were lost (and we were nearly out of gas and hadn't seen a station almost since we'd left London). Alex was calling a friend near a computer for internet directions when Steph saw a sign for Florence (European Name #5), a small town with a few houses and a general store. Finally, an inkling of civilization. And to someone who spends little time in the country, it was just that: an inkling, albeit with nice people. The little aluminum-clad store was fronted by two ancient gas pumps and a third of it was sectioned off into a greasy restaurant. But we got directions and loaded up on chips, chocolate, and cookies and were back on our way, stopping in Windsor for Chinese food.

We crossed the border easily--the guard didn't even check our IDs, quite a different experience than the one I'd had trying to get back into the country a year before. Then we were home, and back to life in its normal shape.

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Thursday, November 04, 2004

Adventures in Canada, Part I

This year's annual road trip to the Stratford Theatre Festival was filled with the expected adventures in unexpected events, from flash floods to general stores in the middle of nowhere. The makeup of the participants varies every year, and this time the old crew was gone, replaced by a handful that was no less fun. Year One consisted of Ryan (and yes, Ryan is a girl)--a dancer and choreographer, Tait--a specialist in Tolkien, anime, and anything British, and myself--a musician, writer, and student of theatre. Year Two consisted of the original crew, Patrick--an architect and composer, and James--a debater and political science major, with a visit from my Canadian friend Steve. Year Three, after many trials and tribble-ations, consisted of myself, Melanie--a poet and swing dancer, Alex--a singer and video gamer (if you've been to a concert lately, you've probably heard him sing with me), and Steph--an art historian and one of my roommates, with plenty of time with the aforementioned Steve and his roommate Daryn.

On Friday afternoon, I received a phone call from Melanie, whom I'd told about the trip the night before, confirming that she could come; after playing for the U-M vs. OSU Blood Battle Diag Day in the middle of campus I jumped in a car with the other three and said goodbye to Ann Arbor for a couple of days. We took the Port Huron bridge to Canada for the first time--I've spent most of my life in Metro Detroit, so Port Huron is further north than I'd usually travel--driving through expanses of corn fields and power lines with little to break the monotony. Canada wasn't much better, and throughout the weekend it was nearly impossible to find gas stations when they were needed; all the rural highway prompted a frustrated Steph to say, "Canada's so sparse. How can it have nothing in it?"

We made it to Stratford and the Festival Theatre just in time to watch Henry VIII. Alex spent probably half of the performance in the lobby instead of the auditorium, becoming friends with the bartender ("hey, the guy at the bar says there's a punk band playing at this curry shop tonight--want to go?"). But things worked out for him since the production wasn't entirely engaging--little dramatic tension, one standout acting flop (Walter Borden as the hypocritical Cardinal Wolsey), wonderful costumes, a few standout acting successes (Graham Abbey as a sincere King Henry, though he was unexceptional in the title role of Macbeth the night after, Seana McKenna as the long-suffering Queen Katherine, Sara Topham as the charmingly innocent replacement, Anne Bullen/Boleyn). After the show, we went to a restaurant that I'd visited in the past and some of us played the part of the loud American (read: Dawn disavows being the typical American traveler). And then the adventures began.

* Props if you caught the Star Trek reference.

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Monday, November 01, 2004

Election Issues, Part II

In my last post, I covered three of the issues that I'm watching in this week's election from the perpective of a person of faith who cannot feel entirely comfortable with either presidential candidate. To sum up the last post: Bush's non-existent foreign policy frightens me--and the international community--and his environmental record is atrocious. However, Kerry's adamant pro-choice and liberal voting record in the Senate make strong the likelihood that he would, assuming some of the current ones retire, appoint Supreme Court justices that would support the silent genocide (and yes, the word "genocide" is appropriate because the majority of abortions are performed on lower-class, minority women) of our time. I don't have time to cover all of the election issues I think are important, but here are a couple more that concern me. After this I'm taking a hiatus from politics.

Stewardship and Fiscal Responsibility
Our leader is charged with stewarding our country's resources and using/appropriating them responsibly. In this area John Kerry's voting record shines: while he voted against Bush's tax cuts (which were for brackets all across the board), he supported measures that aimed tax cuts at lower- and middle-income taxpayers rather than the rich (those making more than $200,00 a year) and voted to give presidents line-item veto power and force spending cuts to meet budget targets. On the other hand, George W. Bush turned the $150 billion surplus he inherited into a $450 billion deficit because he forgot to pair his tax cuts with spending cuts. When Congress tried to step in by saying that they would not pass his prescription drug benefit if it exceeded $400 billion over 10 years, the administration, who wanted to pass the bill, fudged the numbers. Adjusting for inflation, this year we spent as much on nuclear weapons as Reagan did during the height of the Cold War. But our soldiers overseas are lacking armor, and we aren't in an arms race now; we've been asking other countries to reduce their stockpiles of nuclear weapons. Bush revived research for the mission shield defense system--which would have done nothing to prevent 9/11--but his budget for FY 2005 includes an 18 percent cut to the Office of Domestic Preparedness’ First Responder Program, which directly affects law enforcement officicals' ability to prevent and respond to terrorist attacks. Has the administration lost its ability to prioritize financial matters?

Character
It's probably futile to weigh which candidate is better or worse in this area, but I'll give a few examples for each. Although Kerry isn't as much of a flip-flop as the Bush campaign claims, there is validity to some of their arguments. He originally supported the No Child Left Behind act, which he now criticizes, opposed the death penalty for terrorists, which he now supports, and voted against the Gulf War for lack of a true international coalition--which in that war we actually did have--but now chides the younger Bush for failing to assemble the coalition that his father did. And while he talks about fighting special interest groups, in the last 15 years Kerry has raised more money--$640,000--from paid lobbyists than any other senator. However, Bush's presidency is marked by overconfidence, a refusal to allow dissension, even internally, and a lack of openness and thus accountability to his electors. In a government "by the people, for the people," the people need to know what's going on. But Bush has urged agencies to refuse Freedom of Information Act requests and has nearly doubled the number of classified documents. His Clear Skies initative was a misnomer, weaking pollution controls by grandfathering in the worst of the coal burning power plants. Bush uses religious language, which comforts many Christians, but how is he using that language? "And the light shines in the darkness. And the darkness will not overcome it." But he uses those phrases to refer to "the ideal of America" rather than in their original context, which points to Christ, to God. And this should at least give us pause. We must ask the question: are we turning our country, our nationalistic ideals into idols? While Tony Blair met with British church leaders to discuss the war in Iraq, Bush refused to meet with leaders who opposed the war in Iraq or merely wanted to raise questions, not even Methodist clergy, clergy from his own denomination. He wouldn't discuss the issues, to whatever conclusion. And I can't even begin to touch on both candidates' inaccuracies and outright lies during the debates, for example Bush "forgetting" that he does in fact own a timber company and Kerry's systematic distortion of facts about the economy.

Whether or not these men claim to be Christians, do their actions truly reflect their vocally-declared beliefs? And if they are, as I believe Bush is, does that faith alone qualify them to lead our country?

Faith can cut in so many ways. If you're penitent and not triumphal, it can move us to repentance and accountability and help us reach for something higher than ourselves. That can be a powerful thing, a thing that moves us beyond politics as usual, like Martin Luther King did. But when it's designed to certify our righteousness--that can be a dangerous thing. Then it pushes self-criticism aside. There's no reflection. 'Where people often get lost is on this very point. Real faith, you see, leads us to deeper reflection and not--not ever--to the thing we as humans so very much want: Easy certainty.
--Jim Wallis

God be with us tomorrow.

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