The Fine Art of Being Unprepared

I’m joking in the title.  I doubt there is any real art to knowing how or when to show up to things unprepared.  I generally am a fan of a good plan.  Often when unpreparedness happens it pretty much sucks, but I try my best to pull things together.  Once in a while, though, being unprepared leads to something profound.

For someone who was about ready to throw in the proverbial towel when it comes to music, I’ve wound up with quite a few good gigs this year.  There is something to be said for not worrying too much.  Ohio continues to have some kind of cosmic pull – I have connected with great, loving yoga and kirtan community there, which balances well with getting to perform with The Mutant Mountain Boys there for SubGenius and Devo happenings.  I’ve been to Ohio twice this summer and wouldn’t be sad at all if I managed to schedule my way back once more this year.

I didn’t feel terribly prepared for any of my gigs this last time out.  At Kundalini Yoga & Wellness in New Cumberland, PA, I played music for yoga, followed by a short kirtan with my old friend JD Stillwater.  That is supposed to be freeform and intuitive, so a lack of set list is fine, if not ideal.  JD and I worked well together.  I appreciated the practice with spontaneity and listening.

I’ve been working with a lot of changes this summer – focusing on health, having internal consciousness and intention exploration stuff – and it has been leaving me in a state of busy-brain.  So much was going on in my mind that the long drive to Cleveland didn’t seem to help me solidify the house concert set for that next night.  I mean, I knew essentially which tunes I would do, but I didn’t feel particularly balanced and rehearsed when I arrived and had to quickly set up the sound system (while making friends with the host’s four awesome dogs).  The show turned out just fine.  The people and the energy were better than fine.  I was even surer about this Cleveland-area vortex that has seemed to open up in my life.  Still, I’d like to find a more easeful pattern when it comes to travel and gigging.  It continues to be a work in progress.

The main reason for this last trip was to make my way out to A Not … TOTALLY Dev-o Tribute Night at The Summit in Columbus.  I absolutely love playing with The Mutant Mountain Boys, and when we were asked to do this show, I started working on booking gigs right away to make the unexpected travel reasonable. Well, we made it there, and we played the gig.  We weren’t terribly prepared.  Samantha was jet-lagged after flying in from Tucson and was running on almost no sleep.  I was pretty exhausted, too, so how could Jim exactly get on a wavelength with that?  We all could have played better, so… we were just ok.  We had an amazing, energetic show at 16X-Day.  Perfectionist that I am, I am (almost) ok with not having been 100% for this one.  We talked about it later and hope to plan future shows so we have at least 24 hours in the same place together to rest, regroup, and rehearse before we hit the stage.  We all had a good time anyway, Lieutenant Dance was fabulous, there are some great pics posted, and the impetus for a late August Devo fan event with friends was started again.

At one point relatively early in the evening, Thomme Chiki, the organizer of the event, asked people if they had any stories or pivotal life moments to share about Devo.  There were two disco ball piñatas in the house and I stepped up to tell the story of how I’d been in the audience during the New York portion of filming for the “Disco Dancer” video and how that was an exciting time for me.  I’m not sure why I didn’t think at that time to tell more of the story:

It was at a club called The World.  The band played a few tunes, then prepared to record for the video.  They did several takes of “Disco Dancer” and the audience gave their enthusiasm.  I didn’t quite “get” this particular song or why it was the single, but I was of course ecstatic to be present for anything Devo.  Afterward, the crowd started to disperse and the club turned into a regular dance space.  After a while, I was dancing and turned to see Mark Mothersbaugh who had come out of the dressing room/green room area and was crossing the dance floor.  I went into instant groupie mode, beelined toward him and asked, “Mark, can I have your autograph?”  He said yes.  I looked blankly for a split second, then said “I don’t have any paper.”  Duh.  I asked him to please wait, and I told him I’d find some.  So there is one of my major heroes standing on the side of the dance floor kind of aimlessly while I scurry around looking for paper.  Bizarrely (though maybe not so strange for 1988), the first piece of paper I found was a tri-fold AIDS info pamphlet that had fallen to the floor.  It said “AIDS, Sex, and You.”  I handed it to Mark and he gave me the most bemused look.  I apologized and told him it was just the first thing I could find.  He wrote “No sex is safe and also good.”  I didn’t think that was very sound information, but hey, I had just prompted Mark Mothersbaugh to write something about sex, which I found to be pretty awesome.  He wrote an “xo” and signed his name.  I thanked him.  Then I got even more bold and asked him if he would like to dance.  He said, “No, I have to get back to Jerry.”  Then he paused, looked at me, and said “You’re very beautiful,” before he disappeared back through the door.  I was pretty much in heaven.

~~~

At The Summit last Friday night, the MMB were getting ready to leave and something gave me the idea to seek another autograph.  I picked up a black and white flyer for the event from one of the tables and thought it would be cool to have Thomme Chiki sign it, since he’d done so much to put the night together.  I didn’t know him so well, but always thought of him as a cool and dedicated spud with encyclopedic knowledge of Devo and probably lots of other things.  I asked him half seriously if he’d sign the flyer, and when he said yes, I thought that would be a really great souvenir. The next question was, “Do you have a pen?”  I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think I did.  I started to dig through my bag.  The first thing I came up with was a tube of red lipstick.  I said, “You could sign it in lipstick.” He made a funny kissy face, but then took the lipstick for real and went to the other side of the club where there was either a mirror or a mirrored section of the wall.  I could see he was putting on the lipstick.  When it started to take kind of a long time, I realized he was doing this quite seriously.  I had assumed that if he did it at all, it would be taken as a big, goofy joke (interesting bit of gender stereotyping I did there).

I was stunned by the image I saw walking back toward me.  It was a simple, sweet and graceful androgynous beauty.  I was basically rendered momentarily speechless.  He returned the lipstick and said quietly, “Thanks for sharing.” He kissed the flyer.  I rather awkwardly vied for a lip print on the cheek.  I had not at all been prepared for this aspect, this physical manifestation of the beautiful in-between to show up in that moment.  I was engrossed – It was moving and exciting to be so taken off-guard.  Reflecting on it now, I see a gorgeous, encouraging reminder that this place/non-place where I live and love and write is absolutely real – and here is another soul, perhaps gliding through a similar journey.

I suppose I would do well to try my best to be prepared for most things.  Virgos prefer order, they say.  But at least when it comes to autograph-seeking in Devo-related contexts, being a bit out of sync has so far worked quite well.

~~~

I am booking concerts and events in Ohio and worldwide!  Inquire at bookings@robinrenee.com and visit me at www.robinrenee.com.

The Steve Forbert Chronicles

I went to see Highway of Sight, Steve Forbert’s cell phone photo exhibit, this past Saturday at the ART629 Gallery in Asbury Park. I had been feeling a little anti-social all day, so it really was a good thing to hear from Nancey, my good friend and concert-going buddy, who convinced me to quit cocooning and come out and play. Thanks, Nancey—I appreciate that! The two of us have such fun hanging out and being Forbert groupies together- How could I miss this one?

As I came in the door, I was surprised by Steve, who said hello, remembered my name and that he had seen me the week before at his show at The Record Collector in Bordentown. I am not sure he remembered that I interviewed him for the 2008 Songwriter’s Market. He couldn’t have known that a few years ago I was contemplating using the title of this blog entry as the title of a book. The book would be based on a slice of autobiography – soul-searching in the years around my father’s passing and other lesser life complications – with the backdrop of my strange pursuit of this quietly enduring folksinger. For a long time I have also wanted to write about the power, mostly positive, I think, that exists in music hero worship, and the bonds and creativity borne out of fandom. When I heard about the recent publication of I Think I Love You  I felt scooped, but whatever—I have different insights and stories to tell. There are quite a few books living in my head. One day, some of them will escape and find themselves written down, I promise.

The photos were simple, telling bits of Americana and curious things found along the trail of a touring musician. In this show, Forbert seemed to favor repeating items – like soda bottles or rows of eggs – that reminded me of early industrial innovation. I was checking out the images, wondering why an artist finds a particular fascination, or vice versa. The artist himself had been affable and talkative with attendees all evening. He managed to surprise me again and out of the blue walked up and asked, “So what’s the deal?” He wanted to know about the town I live in, and which photo was my favorite. My fave of the moment was “Glass Stems in Case.”

His question got me to confront something I had only idly mused over before:

Seriously, what is the deal?

Why this cyclical fixation (and the requisite goofy crush that goes with it) on the unassuming Steve Forbert and his live performances? I have the records and CDs, but it is mainly about the live show. I’ve seen him more in concert than quite a few of my other fangirl obsessions like Steely Dan, Gary Wilson (I know, he doesn’t play that much), and even Devo.

Though it is fun to revel in the mysterious nature of my adoration, I can say a little about what draws me:

Storytelling. Forbert is a solid craftsman of songs of struggle, love, work, and everyday greatness. He is afraid of neither politics (“The Baghdad Dream,” the ever-evolving “Oil Song”) nor humor (“Strange Names – New Jersey’s Got ‘Em)”. One of the surprising byproducts of the emergence of kirtan chant into my life was a lessening of the impetus to tell stories in song. When you are at OM, what more is there to say? I feel the stories reemerging now, and can look to the art of cutting to the core of basic human experience in Forbert’s best tunes for guidance.

He loves his career. I have heard him say more than once that he is grateful for the early success of “Romeo’s Tune” because it has enabled him to do what he likes for all these years. Another artist might be forever angry that meteoric success didn’t continue unabated. Steve seems to get that he has a good life and a really cool gig going on.

Perfect timing. Honestly, I believe this all started back in the day the first time I heard WMMR play “Goin’ Down to Laurel.” My heart melted and I was changed in some intangible way. Later, “Romeo’s Tune” was the summer love theme playing in my head as I would travel hours by bus and train to Connecticut to see a girl I was crazy about who I’d met at summer camp.

He is earnest. The language he uses is often matter-of-fact, sometimes cute, and may deal with pain, but is not meant to cause pain. He can write a personal or cultural critique without the cutting cynicism that I actually love from other artists. A Steve Forbert song is like an antidote to an overdose of bitterness. His body of work tells us that he really wants the best for the world and all of us in it, without even so much as a devolutionary twist.

Inspiration. Whenever I’m nervous about whatever it is my next move ought to be, I remember these immortal words:  “You Cannot Win If You Do Not Play.”