Stop The Tiny Voices

An Open Letter to Joe Henry:

Mr. Henry:
A few years ago I received a mix CD that contained a wonderful gem of a song that compelled me to wonder why no one would give that fucking bug a new song to sing ("Bob and Ray"). Shortly thereafter I started a strange relationship with your music and have become, much like the friend who provided me with my "in" to your music, a musical missionary spreading the Gospel According to Joe.

You provided us with such a challenging few years. The quadrology of "Trampoline", "Fuse", "Scar" and "Tiny Voices" illustrates a most curious mutation in your music. You swang through pop, jazz, country, ballads, darkness and humor. It culminated in "Tiny Voices" which, even after two years of solid listening, is in solid rotation and touted by such luminaries as myself as one of the best albums of the new millennium.

My wife had joined me in loving your music. She, in fact, has admitted to a little crush on you. I suspect it's those dark, brooding songs that did her in.

However, Joe, you've gone away. Your website lists no live dates since 2004. You've not addressed a tearful nation since January. As best I can tell, you've spent some time with Aimee Mann and maybe eaten a little stir-fry.

The last few days, I've been listening to quite a bit of your music again. And enjoying it more than ever. Yet, I feel like someone who seeks his guru only to find the mountaintop empty.

I don't mean to rush you, or even pressure you to produce. However, a word of encouragement. Perhaps just a nod of acknowledgement to us fans. Maybe a nice streusel in the mail. Something. Anything. Just a little news would be nice.

However, Mr. Henry, since we've not heard anything from you I've decided to take drastic actions. I have decided, by using my
Radio Science Fiction Twin, to convert as many people to your music. I've loaded it with 15 great Joe Henry songs from "Curt Flood" to "Flower Girl".

Not drastic, you say? No, it's not. But they will be writing letters to your management asking, "What's Joe doing? When's he going to come back and please us fans?"

And once your management gets a whiff of the palpable anticipation of your adoring fans, then they will see opportunity. With opportunity comes pressure and with pressure comes a new album.

So, Mr. Henry, the way I figure it, you have two choices.

1. Give us a hint of what comes next. A cryptic message on your website. A random set at a dingy club. Anything. We will be happy, know that you're out there waiting for us and we'll descend back in the shadows. Or,

2. The aforementioned pestering.

The choice is yours, Mr. Henry. We don't ask much. And I guarantee, with the songs I've chosen, the conversions will be swift and easy.

So what is it? A fan army? Or a quick scribble on your site?

Sincerely,

Gary O'Brien

P.S. Hiring actors to portray you does not count and will not satisfy our lust for music.

Stupid Blogger

Why isn't it updating my comments? Sigh.

Bad news, too. My uke broke over the weekend. I'm now stringed-instrumentless. It joins my guitar in the pile of dead instruments. Granted, the guitar can be fixed. The uke, well, it's a goner. Thinking of getting a Fluke or a Flea., but I had other plans for that cash.

Sigh.

Oh, and news flash. Guess what three-year-old rode a bike without training wheels this weekend? Granted, it was in the grass, but the point is she repeatedly went about 20 or 30 feet without crashing. Now she's trying to figure out how to get started and balance. I swear, that kid could fly a jet if she decided she wanted to try.

So, if The Physicist (or his wife) is out there and not too sore from his own crash, any suggestions on how to foster this biking interest? She has a picture of Lance Armstrong on her wall, has a favorite cycling team (granted, based on name) and even pretends she's racing when we're out riding. There's a few local criterium and a minor weekend of racing coming up, perhaps I'll take her to see one. Based on courses, I fear they will be lame.

Anyway, any cyclists have suggestions?

Be Not So Nervous . .

Here's a digi-treat. It's from "The Collected Jeff Tweedy" boot that circulates. I'm not supposed to pass it around in MP3, but hey, you guys don't use FLAC, do you? No. So if you want the lossless files, go find them. I'm too lazy to look up the performance date on this one.

But, for me, it's appropriate. I've talked about it before. It's an old Bill Faye song (yeah, I hadn't heard of him either) that deserves to be heard. I sing this song to Gert all the time. And, given the last post, maybe she needs to sing it to me. Hell, we could all learn from it. For one week only. Get it while it's hot.

Jeff Tweedy - Be Not So Fearful

Kids Can't Escape

One Girl Band,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

My wife touched on it yesterday, but I still find it hard to believe. Gert is starting pre-school in a week and a half. Real pre-school. At a real school. As part of what she calls "Early Hild Chood" education.

How is this possible? Do you realize this means that it's been four years since I started this blog? Nearly four years since I left the corporate world to do whatever it is I do now? When did she grow up?

Ah, you say, she isn't grown up. But you're wrong! Matilda has taught her to write her own name. You tell Gert how to spell it and she can write it in giant, but accurate, letters. She even recognizes the letters when she sees them on a sign or in a book.

Last night I asked her if she read her new book and she said, "Yeah, I read it by myself. I didn't know the words so I made up my own. It was about baking."

Even stranger, she is now sitting down and listening to Junie B. Jones books. Chapter books that are written for first graders. She loves them and follows the story over multiple nights.

She can recognize Lance Armstrong on TV or in a photo. She can nearly ride a two-wheeler without training wheels. She even has a favorite cycling team (which is Liquigas, which is pronounced "Leaky Gas" . . . I wonder why she likes that one).

I just don't know what happened. She's not the little lump with cute sausage arms. She's . . . a girl.

When she went back to Grandma's after vacation, I told her I was going to miss her all day because it was the first time in a while I wouldn't see her.

"Don't worry daddy," she said, "when I get home you'll be the first person I see."

Sigh. I only have to live with this sense of pride and sadness until I'm 100 years old and lose my mind. Only 68 more years.

Proofs

My wife and I have discussed this many times. Why should you love Mates of State?

It's an easy, four-step process.

1. Kori Gardner. She has a sense of joy, perhaps too much, when she enters every song. It's infectious. You have to wonder, if she's so happy about her job, why can't you be?

Evidence: Proofs

2. Woah-oh. It's my new mantra.

Evidence: Goods

3. Divergent Harmony. Hard to explain. Kori and Jason sometimes have what feels like a divergent harmony. As if they are battling for the melody before they come together in a harmonious chord. It's addictive. Seriously.

Evidence: Hoarding it for Home

4. Organ. And plenty of it. Credit again goes to Kori.

Evidence: Ha Ha

Yeah, Jason's cool. But Kori makes Mates of State. At least for me.

That is all. Go buy all their albums. I've made it easy for you. You have no excuse. Kori and Jason deserve the attention.

Flickr Vacation Stream

Day 1 - The Cabin 3,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

Yeah, I joined in the Flickr bandwagon. It will officially start to suck tomorrow.

Anyway, uploaded some vacation pics. Click away. Enjoy.

Sam

I'm afraid I have some sad news for my first post back from vacation. Our little buddy Sam Wood, who was so valiantly fighting leukemia since last September, passed away on Tuesday. Despite his bravery and attitude, his little body just couldn't handle what life had thrown at him.

Needless to say, everyone who has been touched by Sam or his mom are heart broken.

However, it is important to remember that it's not the importance of the contribution of the life, but the life of the contribution. Though Sam was only with us for two short years, his legacy can go much further if we support childhood cancer research in his name. Sam's story touched a lot of people. Perhaps his life can continue through our philanthropy.

If you'd like to donate to the Maryland chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, for whom Sam was a Youth Ambassador, in his name, just click here.

Or, you may make a donation directly to Johns Hopkins Pediatric Oncology Unit in Sam's name here.