I had a long day that involved time in four counties and use of four transit systems; I volunteered at WFUV in the Bronx, took MetroNorth and a Beeline Bus to therapy in Westchester, took a bus and MetroNorth to Grand Central Terminal, the subway to the World Trade Center, and the PATH to Jersey City for a house concert by Abbie Gardner and Craig Akin. I’m tired out just writing that.
I’m insane so I get to WFUV before 6 AM, as I supervise the volunteers and want to be there before they arrive. I’m a person that thinks of waking up at 8:30, early. Jim gets there late, 8 AM, on Friday so I can leave it to him to take care of things first off. When I arrive I discovered to my horror that the student on kitchen duty last night did not set up the coffee so whoever gets to the station first in the morning just has to turn the pot on. I had to do that which meant no coffee until it was brewed. If that does not ensure my martyrdom and sainthood then there’s something wrong with the system.
Along those lines Carmel said something horrifying when pitching for contributions. She said, “You spend money on things, such as coffee, not as important to you as WFUV.” I’m sorry, I love WFUV but the thought of something being more important than coffee is blasphemy. Laura and I were both shocked. To make it worse, I was pouring my coffee at the time. Does this count as hate speech? It is certainly anti-Caffeinetarian. I know that Lori not LORi is with me on this. Now I’m shaking again from just thinking of this. I better drink my second cup of coffee to regain my inner peace. That’s better, the fog has lifted and the bright sunshine is shining through. Now I can see Laura’s point that Carmel meant to say, “Fancy Coffee’” Coffee is clearly a necessary to a happy life.
After doing my seven-hour shift I strolled across campus to the train station. I love that it’s so easy to get to therapy from Fordham University. Of course to get to Keating Hall, where the station is located, it’s a 25-minute walk. That’s fine as long as it isn’t raining or beastly hot. Just cold I can dress for. Rain threatened yesterday but none came while I walked.
I was so tired that it took me a while to gather my thoughts for therapy. I was able to make something clear to my therapist that I hadn’t before. I thought of anecdotes that illustrated the point I wanted to make. I’m not nostalgic, I don’t get excited at hearing the music or watching the TV of my youth. I just think of them as old. I do get nostalgic about people. That’s what I told her about.
Then I took the bus, to the subway to the PATH to walking to Spiral Sounds Concerts, aka Gidge (jidge) and Loyse’s (low-ease) house. It’s nowhere near me but I’, a regular. I’ve been to more shows there than anyone that doesn’t live in the house. They have great taste and their good friends.
When they started the series I suggested artists to book and one of the first was Abbie Gardner, who is not just great but also lives in Jersey City. She was joined last night by her husband, Craig Akin. By cosmic synchronicity I had seen Abbie exactly 10 years earlier. The pictures showed up on Google photos. She did that gig with Phil Minissale. Phil is the one that introduced Craig to Abbie. I love it when a plan comes together.
The way the timing works out I am almost always the first one to arrive at Spiral Sounds. That means I’m often put to work either setting up or working the door. Last night I did the former until Loyse was finished with setting out the food. I like doing that. The music is on the second floor so someone need to wait downstairs to answer the door and check people in. For reasons that I don’t understand I enjoy doing this and saying, “No, I am not the host, I just got here early.” My brain is weird.
As I saw her ten years ago, I obviously have known Abbie a long time. I think I met her in 2005. It wasn’t with Red Molly but when she subbed for Pat Klink at a We’re About 9 show at Chris’s house. I have seen Abbie in so many configurations; with Red Molly, duo with Anthony da Costa, duo with Pat Wictor, solo, duo with Craig, in a band with her father Herb Gardner, and hosting The Slide Sessions. I’m sure there have been more. I’ve seen her play for thousands at Falcon Ridge and in a tiny room with me a few other people. She’s family.
No matter how much I like a person I won’t see them that often if they don’t play great music. Abbie sings, writes, and plays dobro and occasional guitar. Craig is the best bass player that I know. His home bass was jazz, as was Abbie’s, so he can play anything. What I love best about the duo shows is that they have musical conversations on their instruments. It’s the instrumental equivalent of a duet.. While they are both string instruments there’s little else in common between the dobro and standup bass; the contrast makes for an alluring texture.
They did old songs. They did new songs, originals and covers. I heckled, the surest sign of my love. They did a Christmas Song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Abbie used her standards voice which is quite different from her blues voice. They didn’t do the holiday song I wanted, Abbie’s original, Burning Down the Christmas Tree that she cowrote with Mark Allen Berube. I’m evil. Abbie isn’t, she and Craig donated half their take to the Grace Church feeding the homeless project. That’s not fair to Abbie, she’s evil, she’s just trying to earn her salvation with good works. That’s better, I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.
In a rarity I was not the last to leave. I was tired and had close to a two-hour trip home. I didn’t get there till midnight, I left for WFUV at 5:25 AM. I did not go right to sleep, I had to wind down first.
My goal for today is to not get dressed and spend as much time as possible in my easy chair with my legs raised. When I got home there was quite a bit of swelling in my legs. I am doing a good job accomplishing today’s goal. I woke up a little before eight, made it to my chair, did a few things, then slept in the chair until noon. I had been quite sleep-deprived. I spent the morning in the hypnopompic state, that gives me a feeling of well-being. It’s the closest I get to the land of the lotus eaters.
Tomorrow I’m back at WFUV for a nine-house shift. John Platt is still on hiatus and Bob Sherman is off to be a snowbird, so I get to leave four hours early. I saw Bob today, putting the final touches on Sunday’s show. At least I got my Bob fix. He is such a delight.
I just closed my eyes and immediately got into hypnopompic dreams. I was at WFUV and Linda said that before I post this blog she had to show me something. That’s what it’s like, I’m suspended halfway between reality and dreamworld. I never saw what she wanted to show me. When I slipped back into dreamworld I was with Deni Bonet, not Linda. If this is posted later than you like blame my friends, not me.
Wise Madness 