Podcast: The Haymarket Squares on Saturday Night Showcase

Mayhem - Imelda May

Imelda May, winner of the 2009 Meteor Award for best female artist, is an Irish-born rockabilly revival singer,  influenced by Elvis, Wanda Jackson, and Billie Holiday.  Imelda released her third album, 'Mayhem', in 2010 (yeah, so I'm a little behind on my reviews, get off me).  She writes of relationships, love and the inevitable obsession that accompanies them (what? isn't it inevitable?  just me? okay).  Imelda's style, both musically and sartorially, is rockabilly greaser, touched with jazz and blues.  I have added learning to put a liberty curl in my hair to my bucket list.  Lately I've been really into the rockabilly revival, following artists like Sally Ford and the Sound Outside and JD McPherson, both of whom are bringing back this danceable country-influenced rock 'n' roll genre from the fifties and sixties.  Imelda May came on the scene in 2003, making her one of the pioneers.

On 'Mayhem', the title track and the single 'Psycho' showcase Imelda's particular brand of neo-rockabilly as well as her vocal acrobatics.  'Kentish Town Waltz' is a sickly sweet love song at first listen but upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a bit more cynical in its definition of true and lasting love ('We killed each other and loved in time').  Plus it taught me my new favorite term of endearment - "mo chroi"or "my heart" in Gaelic.  In other tracks she reveals her obsessive tendencies ('All For You') but at least she admits it in 'Sneaky Freak' ("I'm creepy!  I'm sneaky!  I'm freaky!").  Billie Holiday's influence is bewitchingly apparent in 'Too Sad To Cry', a jazzy track punctuated by moody horns that reveals vulnerability for which Imelda's sultry voice is a perfect medium.  'Proud and Humble' touches on religion and she does a passable, if not particularly inspired, cover of 'Tainted Love'.

Overall, 'Mayhem' hits its high points with the jazz and rockabilly throwbacks 'Psycho', 'Mayhem', and 'Too Sad To Cry'.  'Eternity' and 'Inside Out', frankly, are a little frightening ("I love your bones and your sticks and stones... I love your wits and your wobbly bits", though I gotta admit I adore those terms -- wobbly bits -- hehehe).  'I'm Alive' and 'Proud and Humble' are a bit too cheesy, lyrics are pushing it on the trying too hard scale for me.  There were points where I really wish she would have taken her voice to the next level.  I think she could have gotten more strength out of it, and what a lovely, strong voice it is.  I'd give this album a 6.7.

She's certainly got a point about this part of our lives we call 'love', though.  Mayhem, indeed.

Dear Brian

Today was one of those days.  One of those days when nothing in particular is wrong but nothing is right.  Hope is gone; the world is wrong.  You know... Monday.

I think of you often but I don't feel sad often.  I think maybe something is wrong with me.  Why don't I miss you more?  Why aren't I more sad?  Or at least, sad more often?

I'm trying to pack up the hotel room but I can't.  Someone said something, it bugged me more than it should have so I am laying in bed and watching darkness fall over the parking lot and the canal.  It reminded me of you.  Something has been reminding me of you a lot lately... what?

I remember the time, when our friendship was young, you told me I was too good for any of the punks in this town (thank you for that).  I think about when you and I left that party so we could go skateboarding at the OM park.  That night, you told me one day when you were rich you would pay for all the single mothers in town to go on a spa day (still waiting).  I try to imagine putting together a trivia team without you on it.  What's the point?  I remember when we got drunk and ate Jilberto's and rocked out in your bedroom until dawn.  When your girlfriend broke up with you because you wouldn't tell me I couldn't sleep in your bed... with you in it... with no pants on.  All of the times you visited me in Boulder.  When you came to my mom's funeral.  When you came to Old Chicago after my mom's funeral and told me... shit.  I can't remember what you said after my mom's funeral.  Well isn't that the pits?

Remember when me and you and Derek went to Village Inn and I got a "you park like an asshole" card on my windshield?

How about more recently... like when you came to help LeeAnna and I with our shit hole rental?  And picked up that dresser and carried it out all by yourself?  God I thought you were going to break yourself... but you didn't.  Or when I was having such a crap summer and got drunk by myself and you and Mark came and played Trivial Pursuit with me all night?  And then when I started puking you carried me to bed... at least I think you did.

Why are you gone?

Darkness fell.  Horizon Drive is hideous.  

I ran a 5k and... I won!

Okay, okay... if you ask the race organizers, or any of the 24 people who had times lower than mine, they might say, technically, I didn't win.  However.  I ran a goddamn 5k.  And I ran all of it.  And I did it for my mom.  So... I won.

It's called the Son Run and it's only in its second year and it benefits uninsured cancer patients.  I'm sure if you're reading this you know me personally and you knew my mom personally and you know that she was an uninsured cancer patient.  If you didn't, now you know.

We're 34 minutes short of my mom's 62nd birthday.  Who gets old and dies before their 62nd birthday?  It seems that 62 should be an age when people are looking at retirement... retirement is really close and it's like a second youth.  A time that you finally have the time and the money to do all the things you dreamt of doing your whole life but didn't because of money or kids or time or whatever.  Also, the time you begin to have grandkids, possibly the greatest thing about having kids.  My mom missed out on all of that.  She never retired, she just went on disability.  She was diagnosed when her first and only grandchild was two.  She didn't get to really relish being a grandma because she was always too sick.  I remember not being able to leave him with her because she was too weak to lift him out of his crib.

This isn't intended to be about my mother's illness or death or what she missed out on. I may have had a glass too many of pinot noir.  This is intended to be about my triumph in running the 5k.

I learned a great deal from my mom.  I am similar to her in many ways.  My dedication to my health is not one of them.  She wasn't terribly unhealthy, but she never took a proactive stance towards her body and her health.  Sometimes I resent her for this.  Sometimes I think if she had taken better care of herself, she wouldn't have gotten cancer and wouldn't be dead.  This is one of the reasons I have become increasingly dedicated to preserving my health.  In a way, I did learn it from her.  I learned it from her in more of a "what not to do" way.  The strange thing is, she died of lung cancer, but she quit smoking when she got pregnant with me, over 25 years ago.  Admittedly, my obsession with my nutrition/exercise is largely due to vanity.  But I can't exclude the effect that watching my mom get treatment, fight, and ultimately fail to prevail had on me.  As God is my witness, I will do whatever I can to ensure my son will never go through with me what I went through with my mom.

So, back to the 5k.  I've only ever run one once before, and I was drunk then and I think I walked most of it.  So I consider this my first one.  Sure, I work out often, but whenever you require your body to do something new, no matter what shape it's in, it's going to throw a fit.  And throw a fit my body did.  My ankles ached before we left the parking lot.

As I circled the loop, with my eardrum-damaging earphones in on high volume, listening to The Givers with their workout-inspiring single, "Up Up Up", I thought of my mom.  Fortunately, the energy it took to keep my legs in motion limited the cognitive power of brain, almost to the perfect point of simple, clear thoughts without the cloud of overthinking and overanalyzing which usually impedes my thoughts.  So, I thought of my mom in simple terms.  I thought of her face; I pictured her smiling face at the finish line with a look of pride.  I imagined her looking down from heaven, proud of me for running this race.  Proud of me for running the race of life I run every day out of dedication to myself and to my son.  I thought of her health and why I do the things I do to take care of myself; largely out of respect for her.  I thought of the one-year anniversary of her death which passed last month and her second birthday I will spend without her.  That's tomorrow, which makes all of this all that much more relevant.  I thought of my sister.  Certainly, she is not the only family I have left, but she is the closest family, save my son, that I have left.  I miss her deeply, especially during these difficult times.  I often wish she were here with me to share them with me in a way she just simply can't over the phone.

I finished the race.  I did it.  I did it without any help from anyone; I did it based on my own strength and determination.  I see it, a bit, as a metaphor for my life.  I run and I run and usually I feel like I'm not getting anywhere and a lot of the time I want to quit and I don't see the point.  But I keep going, for whatever reason, whether it's my son or my mom or my sister or my man, and once in a while there's a small victory, like a finish line where strangers cheer for you and someone hands you some water and a raffle ticket.  Of course, in real life, after that small victory, you hardly get a chance to catch your breath before there's a new race to run.  Sometimes, I feel like I'm running two or three races at once, and if I finish one, there's another waiting to begin.  However, this small victory this morning, in running and finishing my first 5k in 29 minutes (7th in my age group, yeah!) was a symbolic victory for me.  I'm encouraged that I can run and finish any race whose start line is placed in my path.  And, goddammit, I'll do it for the right reasons and with my head held high.  And... go!

Tetsa River (originally posted 5/27/08)

Tetsa River Campground is where I write from tonight. There is, of course, no wireless internet here, in fact, there is no electricity or running water for that matter. There are horses, though, trees, and a babbling little creek. I decided to try something different tonight, that is, I decided to stay at a B&B in the middle of nowhere instead of a cheap motel in a creepy city. And I'm glad I did. It's beautiful here. Quaint and rustic. This compound has cabins, a little store, above which are the B&B rooms, even gas pumps ($1.60/liter!!! Glad I filled up in Fort Nelson). There are horses everywhere, including a tiny baby one.

Not much to write about today. Again, 13 hours and over 600 miles, and I haven't even crossed out of British Columbia yet. God, this place is huge. The terrain today, however, was much more uniform. It's as though the geography knows it has plenty of space to spread out, stretch its proverbial legs, and it does just that. It's in no hurry to cover mountains, valleys, forests, and fields all in the span of a few hundred miles, as areas such as Colorado must, if they are to preserve their topographical and ecological diversity. It has thousands upon thousands of miles to make gradual, almost imperceptible transitions between landscapes.

Anyway, I will have to track down some internet tomorrow, in order to post this. I think they will turn the water and electricity back on in the morning, but I doubt internet will come on with it. But I like it here and if there wasn't such a strong draw further westward, I might be tempted to camp out, so to speak, for a while.

28 May 2008; 8:30 a.m.

Holy crap! They do have wireless here! And friendly old cowboys and homemade cinnamon rolls. Paradox Paradise.

Prince George, BC... (originally posted 5/26/08)

... is a very disconcerting place. I covered two countries today, and not no sissy more-like-a-state-than-a-country European countries, we're talkin big North American countries here, real countries. 600 miles. 13 hours. I'm tired. Prince George freaks me out. I can't wait to leave. Why are all the hotels booked up? Creepy.

600 miles, 13 hours, and two countries, not to mention about a half dozen different types of terrain, provided a blossoming opportunity to make my recently-endeared observations. Which I did. Unfortunately, the very same factors that made today so rich also rendered the mind weakened and beat down to a point of near collapse. Thus, I must now recluse into this cheap hotel room, distancing myself from any type of intriguing or enthralling narration of the day's adventures. Apologies for that.

Just a few of the more interesting things that happened to me today:
1. Got pulled over north of Seattle for having studs in my car. The tire kind, not the man kind. Got off anyway.
2. Canadian people are very friendly. Except, of course, border patrol. Still, no problems there.
3. I'd forgotten how beautiful Southern British Columbia is.
4. Everything is flooding. Lakes, rivers, the bowls of normally-dry meadows. Seems this is not a problem confined to Western Colorado. Probably the same causes. I saw a horse grazing on algae in a fenced-in swamp, presumably it used to be his paddock.
5. Found myself driving the wrong direction on a street in downtown Prince George. More accurately, a fellow driver found me driving the wrong direction on a street in downtown Prince George. I assumed all the streets in downtown Prince George were one-way, just like all the other streets in all the other downtowns (they call them "city centres" here) in all the other towns all across the country... wait, this is Canada. Everything is backwards (read: everything makes more sense) here. This was, of course, about a half an hour ago, and my delirium is, even now, I think, fairly evident to you, dear reader.
6. I spent too much money on the Comfort Inn last night, so I've resolved to stay in cheaper motels from here on out. I can't imagine why I would have paid $60 for a crappy continental breakfast... Well, maybe because the Comfort Inn was a lot less creepy than the PG Hiway Motel in Prince George. Actually, even the Days Inn was creepy here. I think there is just an air of creepiness in this city which... well, creeps into everything in or around it. I hope I don't leave here reborn as a creep.
7. I noticed a billowing plume of smoke about 50 miles outside of Prince George, and when I finally got here and began driving down the hill into town, there was a big building all ablaze. There were people who drove up the hill just to see it and had traffic stopped all the way down the hill. Cops had to come and "move along, there's nothing to see here" everyone. I should turn on the news and see what that was. I hope no one was inside...

Seattle (originally posted 5/25/08)

... is where I am now. I spend a good deal of time thinking on things while I'm driving, making observations and such, so I figured I would share a few of the less embarrassing or private ones. I woke up this morning in a little town in Montana name of Dillon (yes, there is also a Dillon, CO, but the similarities end there). I then drove to Butte, which is a strange, unassuming, almost naive (from what I could tell driving around, I never actually got out of my car there) city. It's overlooked by beautiful, but I couldn't tell how beautiful because they were capped by low-ceilinged clouds, mountains, and I think it might be called Butte because of the orange-colored rock-quarry looking thing that guards the city from the west. Butte is all casinos and churches. Downtown (they call it "Uptown") Butte had about 10 historic brick buildings, of which nine were churches and one was a saloon. I spent most of my 30 minute-visit to Butte driving around calling "coffee," which is how I look for things. I think it's probably a good thing I never found a traveling companion since some of my habits, not the least my habit of looking for things by calling their name (it works more often than you'd think, though it did not work for my passport... yet), could be construed as annoying or maybe even abrasive. I finally found some coffee at "Hot Shots" drive-through espresso. Not delicious, but coffee nonetheless.

So that's Butte, MT. I drove through about 10 other medium sized and about 50 small-sized cities today but I'm tired and so that's all you get to hear about. Anyway, Butte was where I spent the most time and made the most observations. My mind is far more keen and alert at 9:30 a.m. than it is at, say, 6:30 p.m., at which time I was in George, WA, at the Gorge Amphitheater hoping to run into Nick. I didn't actually expect to find him among the thousands of people there, but needed a break so I went and hung out outside the entrance to the music festival and watched the hippies and goths and emos stream in to see Death Cab for Cutie anyway. The Gorge is a pretty cool venue, sitting right on the top of this huge, well, gorge, which the Columbia River flows through.