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

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Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Acoustic Rendezvous

Recipe for a fantastic night: add one Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter and his drummer to five Chicago-based singer-songwriters (make sure that at least one of them plays multiple instruments), introduce and stir. With the bike getting stolen and various other issues, it'd been a frustrating week, but Monday made everything better.

The amazing Amanda Sena, who books the Acoustic Rendezvous series at Silvie's Lounge, opened up the night with her band; she was followed by Adam Stahlberg, who's only played the guitar for a couple of years and the piano for less. After my set, Kara Kulpa, Shelley Miller, and Jeremiah Birnbaum shared the stage, the effect being an acoustic band of singer-songwriters backed by a drummer (complete with a hard-shelled suitcase in place of a bass drum). And since a couple of my swing dancing friends were there, we took the opportunity to dance.

It was wonderful seeing Kara and Shelley again--we'd played together as part of the Indiegrrl tour last fall. And I was finally able to try Shelley's famous vegan chocolate chip cookies. I know, they don't initially sound appealing to non-vegans (I'm not one either), but in actuality they're delicious: dark chocolate is vegan, and they're full of brown sugar. The cookies were so good they found their way into my improvised song for the night. (The last time we'd played together, Shelley's cats--and their propensity make breathing impossible, stupid allergies--found their way into the improv song as well.)

You had to feel bad for Adam--no one could remember his name. I'd heard stories about Jeremiah through Shelley and Kara, so when I met him in person, I already knew who he was, and likewise he'd heard about me as well. And everyone knew Amanda because she did the booking. But through multiple shout-outs from the stage, people would mention the other musicians by name and say, "The guy who played second--sorry, I can't remember your name, but everyone give him a hand too!" And he was the only person that played a set without Kara, who has a marvelous ability to improvise on mandolin and violin, whether she's actually heard a song before or not. (In fact, she jumped onstage as I was starting my second song, which is brand-new.)

It's the life of a musician: well-paid (a mere $8 in tips per performer) but happy.

^ Top | 2:28 PM | | |

Friday, August 25, 2006

Ant Offensive

I'm waging war against the ants that have invaded my kitchen. I don't know where they came from, but despite our best efforts, my roommate and I can't seem to exterminate them. Scott threw away a glass jar filled with brown sugar because it became infested while I was gone. (Throwing away the entire jar, glass and all, was rather excessive, though I can certainly understand his horror.) And he put the jar of white sugar in the fridge--it's an odd place for sugar, but the ants haven't found it yet, so there's some logic in the choice.

Ants are persistent little creatures. You think you've eradicated them only to see a tiny army emerge as soon as you leave a cup on counter, remnants of a chocolate milkshake still hugging the bottom of the glass. Needless to say, we're washing all of our dishes immediately now, and I'm too paranoid to let just-baked cookies cool in the kitchen anymore (better to let them cool on the coffee table in the living room, a place the ants haven't discovered yet, and make smaller batches so I can eat them in their entirety).

I'm probably making the situation sound worse than it is: if you were to walk into my kitchen right at this moment, the likelihood that you would see an ant is low. But leave some food out and watch them materialize. Ant traps are in order.

^ Top | 11:32 PM | | |

Linkage

My birthday is in two days. Want to buy me a present? :-)

I'm told this was the #1 song in Europe. Maybe I'll do my next concert in costume? Gotta love 'em, but Europeans are weird.

If you needed more proof. (Watch the other video first though.)

A little video to make you smile.

Two excellent quotes from an article passed along by my uncle: "It might be a good rule simply to avoid any prestigious task. If it didn't suck, they wouldn't have had to make it prestigious." "Math would happen without math departments, but it is the existence of English majors, and therefore jobs teaching them, that calls into being all those thousands of dreary papers about gender and identity in the novels of Conrad. No one does that kind of thing for fun." As someone who graduated with an English major, I would have to agree.

Find the answers to all your questions about grammar.

One family I stayed with while on the road has famous children. It's hilarious.

Another funny spoof video.

OMG, Paris Hilton has released an album. Of music. To quote the Guardian article: "'I know music,' she reassured the Sunday Times children's section. 'I hear it every single day.'" Curiosity intact, I found one of her music videos on Google--and only made it halfway through. Maybe I should give up on music now--who cares about that tiny little problem of actually being able to sing in order to call yourself a singer? It worked for Britney and Ashlee Simpson.

Bush (as in President) beatboxing.

For only $1.54 million, you too could have a floating bed.

The Last Supper, Star Wars style.

^ Top | 12:26 AM | | |

Thursday, August 24, 2006

The End of the Tour and More Thievery in Chicago

After playing in Goshen, Thomas and I were nearly chased off the road by a bunch of bikers, complete with leather and all--well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but we did make them mad (how, I'm not sure, since Thomas was driving and I wasn't paying much attention at that point). Luckily, it didn't take long before we found our entrance to the freeway.

I'm such a sociable person that sometimes it surprises me when I feel a keen need for space--but when I got home I spent a fair amount of time being antisocial; even I can use up my allotment of words for the week. I met so many amazing people while I was on the road, but talking almost nonstop (and how I love to talk!) for two weeks means that I needed a break when I got back to Chicago. It was so good to just sit and read a book for hours.

The unfortunate part about being home? I left my bike (which I've used for only a few days) locked on a street close to mine for less than 24 hours, and when I got back to it, both of the wheels had been stolen. It's maddening, especially since it wasn't that long ago that my car got broken into and my CD player and a third of my CDs were stolen. I can't win.

^ Top | 10:27 PM | | |

Monday, August 21, 2006

The Radio Flyer

The most memorable part of playing at Lemonjello's: one of the guys at the concert told me that he came because he'd seen my poster at the venue and thought I was cute. Hey, whatever it takes—I'm glad he and his friends were there.

After the show, I met up with more old friends, Cat M. being the leader of the pack. She and Melissa were feeling a little crazy--after they succeeded in confusing Thomas and me by turning onto a street labeled "Road Closed," they pulled a little Radio Flyer out of the car and proceeded to put on bike helmets. Mind you, it was at least 1:00am by this point. They squished themselves into the little red wagon and scooted forward, legs dangling, until Brant took pity on them and give them a push down the hill; apparently they'd done this many times back when they were students in Ann Arbor (who knew?). After a few more trips they convinced everyone else--except Thomas--to try their joyride. The hill wasn't steep enough to make the trip truly exciting, but it was amusing to see a bunch of twenty-somethings (the youngest of us was 24) acting like they were all in high school, somewhat concerned that cops or annoyed adults were going to break up the fun.

When it started raining, the party took a detour to Meijer to pick up chocolate chips and made our way to Cat's house, where we feasted on fresh chocolate chip cookies and talked until the wee hours of the morning, finally falling asleep in her living room.

^ Top | 10:12 PM | | |

Sunday, August 20, 2006

On Cell Phones and Being a Monkey

Shortly after I woke up, I discovered that Lauren’s family has a Kawai grand piano. And it’s beautiful, both aesthetically and sonorously. Apparently Lauren’s mother is a great lover of live music, so after lunch she tentatively requested a couple of songs. I was more than happy to oblige, and Lauren assured her mother that I am, in fact a monkey who loves to perform. What struck me as funny was when I asked what I should play, Lauren’s mom kept saying, “Play something you like,” which amused both myself and her daughter since I wrote almost everything I play. Of course I’ll play something I like—I certainly don’t do this for the money. (Two people were walking down the street. One was a musician. The other one didn’t have any money either.)

The night before I’d realized that I’d left my cell phone charger back in Redford, Mich., an hour and a half drive away, so I was in a bind; I spent the afternoon calling Sprint and various other places in the hope of tracking down another charger. Every person I talked to looked at me in disbelief: “You should get a new phone. We don’t have chargers for those anymore, they’re too old.” The best solution I could find was a Radio Shack charger with a combination of end pins, one of which would fit my (apparently ancient) phone. The catch? It cost $30 and was in Grand Rapids, Mich., which would be a significant, though not wholly terrible, detour. Just as I was about to give up hope, I stopped by another Sprint store on a whim and they managed to find the correct charger. The best part? “How much does it cost?” “You can just have it—I don’t have a bar code for that one, so I guess it’s free.”

In between all of the cell phone madness, Lauren convinced me to go rock climbing—in the middle of a store. In Lansing, Dick’s Sports has a climbing wall in their store, which resides in the mall. It was an unlikely spot, but I chose the intermediate wall (it was my third time ever doing this, after all) and spent about 15 minutes making my way to the top amid Lauren’s encouragements (she was more amused by the prospect of watching me than climbing herself—and she was wearing a skirt). Just a few minutes of work, and my arms and hands were tired for hours. Literally—even after playing that night’s concert in Holland, I could feel those muscles.

^ Top | 2:37 PM | | |

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Lansing, Mich.

I had a lovely surprise at Magdalena’s Tea House on Thursday—my brother, fresh off a plane from Singapore with its 32-hour flight, came to the concert. And he brought me a bag full of Asian goodies: pandan chiffon cake, little sponge cakes, and two of the largest bags of Pocky (the best kind comes from Japan rather than Thailand) I’ve ever seen. Yum. That night was also the first time in about two years that either of my parents had come to one of my shows; I realized how odd this was when I was singing a couple of autobiographical songs and couldn’t look at my mom, who’d arrived with my brother. It’s a bit awkward singing lines like “My parents, they said, 'You used to be so ambitious as a child / Now that decisions matter, what's happened to you?'" when your mom is in the audience, even though the song has its share of humor at the situation.

Thomas and I shared the show with MJ Bishop, an alt-country singer-songwriter from Seattle. For the first time in our tour, Thomas shared the stage with a fellow West Coaster (and he was happy about that—we’d made California jokes all tour). After the concert, Thomas headed out with a friend and I continued my habit of eating at diners post-show with a handful of people I hadn’t seen in ages. Quote of the night, courtesy of Bryan K.: “It’s always funny to watch the dog interact with a live crab. He’d be excited, and then clip! And he’d run away. Then curiosity would get the best of him and he’d be back.”

^ Top | 12:01 AM | | |

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Venue Closing

My apologies to anyone who showed up at the 4 Seasons Internet Café tonight—I didn’t know it was shut down until an hour and a half before the concert was supposed to start. Thomas and I were halfway to the coffee shop when I called to make sure I had the right cross-streets; the woman who answered the phone said, “The internet cafe closed today. We’re going to reopen as a restaurant.” Confused, I told her that I was on the music schedule for the night. “The music is the problem. We’re closed by court order.”

^ Top | 10:33 PM | | |

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Senators, Kids, Pastors and Poetry

It was a rare opportunity: for a minute or two, no more than three, Thomas was playing for a US senator. Carl Levin stopped by Brothers Coffee and Tea during Thomas’s set, and after he left, Sarah, the barista, was so excited that she taped his receipt to the counter for all to see. The funny part is that while he was ordering his drink, no one recognized him. Fame is such a relative thing.

But even better than playing for a senator who didn't notice, Thomas played for a blond-haired kid with a shy smile who couldn't have been more than seven years old. Aiden was fascinated by the music and at one point started dancing. After he tired of dancing, he pulled a chair as close to the stage as he could go (which was only a foot away) and had a front-row seat for some great music. Unfortunately, he and his mother had left by the time I took the mic.

After the concert, Thomas and I found out that our planned sleeping arrangement had fallen through (“there was no room at the inn”), and Sarah's parents, who had come to the show, graciously offered to take us in. They were incredibly hospitable, and I found out that world really is a small place: Jonathan is the pastor of a local church that has ties to the church I went to in Ann Arbor.

it ain't aiden
aching, arguing
aiden's dancing, dangling feet
fingering fanta
lovely little prince
playing with numbers
way past frown
tumbling
down
to
dawn
it's me
mending, minding
my frown, waiting
for dawn
--Jonathan Mays, 8.14.06

^ Top | 8:20 PM | | |

Monday, August 14, 2006

Pasties and Nachos

When I was five, my family traveled through much of continental US before returning home to Singapore; although I don’t have many memories from that trip (I was too young), I do recall going to the Pictured Rocks. I saw those Rocks again yesterday from the vantage point of Miners Castle. After that bit of sightseeing and eating a true UP pastie (pronounced PASS-tee, rather than PAY-stee—continuing my apparent trend of mispronouncing local words, I used the latter pronunciation only to be greeted by laughter from my more knowledgeable friends. But what’s a PAY-stee? According to Dictionary.com, “The term properly refers to nipple-concealing devices formerly worn by strippers in concession to indecent-exposure laws”), Dan, Thomas, and I played at the 231 House of Muses, a space that’s both an art gallery and music club.

You could tell Dan was hungry: onstage he kept talking about the nachos he was going to make as soon as the concert was over and he got home (home currently being the cabin his family stays in every summer for a week). True to his word, when we got back to Thunder Lake Dan started cutting up vegetables and cooking meat—even though it was 3:00am by that point. The three troubadours feasted on nachos and Dan’s famous salsa, finally calling it a night (morning) an hour later.

This leg of the tour is done: Dan's off for a couple of days before heading to Minneapolis, and Thomas and I are on our way to the Lower Peninsula. It's sad to break up our little group, but I'm sure we'll all be playing together again soon.

^ Top | 2:01 PM | | |

Saturday, August 12, 2006

On Being a Rockstar

We’re driving through Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—Dan’s in the brown relic of a police car, guiding myself and Thomas in the minivan behind. We stopped in Escanaba, Mich. to get coffee at the 8th Street Coffeehouse and ended up with a tour of the café, including its secret parts. Locked in the room in the basement is 30-foot-long vista of miniature mountains, stores, houses, and even a tiny carnival—the room is home to the local model train club. It’s one of the coolest things I’ve seen on this tour.

Last night’s concert at the Premier Café was fantastic—I sold all of the rest of the CDs I’d brought with me, all the CDs left from the initial run of the EP. We had 40-50 people in a space designed for 12. And they listened. Two-thirds of the audience had come because of a newspaper feature about the show—a photo of yours truly was the cover of the entertainment section. But the true rockstar moment of the day came when I was walking down the street in Manitowoc and stumbled across a music store. The woman at the counter asked if I needed help, and I said that I was just looking around, killing time until my show: “Oh, that’s why I recognize you! Your picture was in the paper!”

We would have been homeless for the night if not for Beth, who offered us a place to stay as we were packing up—she and her roommate Heidi were tons of fun, and we ended up exchanging songs in their living room until the wee hours of the morning. Translation: Heidi missed the concert, so she requested songs from the three of us itinerant musicians, and we managed to convince her and Beth to strum a little bit on their guitars as well.

It’s so good traveling with Dan and Thomas—they’re hilarious, and we feed off each other really well, both onstage and off. There’s a wonderful energy from this combination, and I’m lucky to be traveling with such great guys.

^ Top | 3:15 PM | | |

Friday, August 11, 2006

Oshkosh, Wis.

It's a cross-country combination of performers: Thomas from San Francisco, whose songs are collectively known as Waypastfrown (he managed to confuse a reporter on this point), Dan Vaillancourt, the funktified folk-man from Midland, Mich., and myself, now representing Chicago. The three of us joined forces last night for the first of three shows in Wisconsin and upper Michigan. Serendipity seems to be a large part of being a musician: Thomas and I met almost a year ago at a showcase for Just Plain Folks in Chicago, a place neither of us were living at the time, and spoke for a grand total of about 15 minutes in person before this tour, and I met Dan because he was playing a show at a café a few blocks from my house—after the concert, he asked me if I was a musician because I laughed at all of the musician jokes, and over the next months we got to be friends.

I'm typing this on Thomas's laptop (a Mac, gasp) as we drive from Oshkosh to Manitowoc. Thus far we've only driven past a couple of the prototypical cheese outlets; what we did find was a gas station filled with Mexican groceries. Last night after our show we went to the bar across the street to hear another musician that knows Dan (more serendipity: they’d played a show in Marquette together last year), then went to another local spot to meet up with Cassie, who graciously allowed the three of us to invade her house last night. Thomas probably had the strangest experience at the bar—he was deep in (one-sided) conversation with a local drunk who kept spitting beer as he talked, and eventually the rest of us stepped in and saved him. Back at Cassie's house, the guys were hungry so she fed them hot dogs (which, unfortunately, she cooked in the microwave rather than testing out the possibility of making Dan eat the hot dog popsicles that I thought would be amusing). It's good being a girl on tour with two guys: I got the couch last night while both of the guys slept on recliners (very cute, they were lined up perfectly next to each other). And Thomas has carried my keyboard through most of our instrument moving.

This morning Cassie bought as all breakfast at IHOP (thanks!!) and we stopped at the New Moon Café again to fill up on coffee and use the internet before heading off to our next stop.

^ Top | 6:07 PM | | |