skeleton of an invisible man

Adam texted at 3:30 that he couldn't make 4:00 rehearsal. He was pissed, but two conference calls with HBO "came up". I texted him back asking him to make sure HBO had my new number and proceeded to Dumbo where our already skeleton-crewed Less rehearsal was down to Rob and I. 

I've been tired of playing drums so I pulled out the Guild and found a space in which to maneuver with some ideas Rob had. At the end of our second burst of energy, I started thinking of Aaron Stout, and I felt a vastness stirring in me, with words to say and melodies to spit.

You left at dawn to be first in line for the beheading. You came back wide-eyed and asked me do you realize where we are heading. It's been hard to talk to you.

The words are not the thing yet. It's the feeling. Here's some more:

.......(uh)......

Okay, I can't think of it now, but this line - the one I can't remember -  woke me from my sleep the other night and it was good. And it's somewhere in the dusty apartment I call my head.  It went something something something something, "over the bridge unabridged, from 1 to 5."

Today was a day not to think about Motherlodge too much. I got up at 5:30 a.m. and went to the Fulton Street Social Security Office to apply for a Social Security card.  With my birth certificate and marriage license I was approved. If I'm lucky I might get it before we leave for Louisville.

On the way out of the building, I was mocked by the security man at the door for not holding the door for a blind man. But I was confused. I'd just gone through applying for the SS card feeling like no one was going to be convinced that I was who I was. Walking out to see the blind man who had no regard for me, my first reaction was to feel even more convinced that I was not there. And on top of this, the guy was going in the wrong door. So I didn't know what to do - Do I help him go through the wrong door, or direct him to the - "HEY!" (before my thought was complete the security guard was on me) "That's great, sir! Thank you. Thank you for holding the door for him! Can't you see the man is blind?" 

I had my reasons, but reasoning aside, as they say, the facts the facts: Today I stood aside and made a blind man open a door himself. I did some cool shit, today, too, but this is the story to end the day with.

And this completes today's blog from Ray - the guy who still sometimes thinks more than he acts.

Motherblog 12 Mar. 2009

Needs for the day: 1) help with contacting for Louisville High Schoolers who WON'T be leaving town on Spring Break. We need volunteers. We need actors. We need responsible drivers.  2) someone to contact potential food sponsors for our meals. 3) someone with printing capabilities to help with programs the week of Motherlodge.

Commence naval gazing...

We lost Moby a few days back.

Okay. That's just fun to write. Really, we never had him, he's just cool enough to have considered coming to Motherlodge. He thought it sounded like fun, and said he'd check his schedule. I can't argue with him passing us up to play a benefit for transcendental meditation with Jim James and Sir Paul McCartney.

"Hopefully next year!" said Moby. 

Yes Mobes, yes.

I can see why J.K. McKnight visualizes a ship for his Forecastle Festival. Organizing our humble first Motherlodge feels like equal parts witnessing and navigating the balance between natural systems and structures that have uniquely different behaviors and rhythms. (Like ships to water, venues to bands, or, say Brigid Kaelin and Shannon Lawson.) Yet somehow amidst the crashing of seemingly unrelatable manners, THE VESSEL that is the thing takes on shape and a direction.

Seriously - this wasn't the best Motherlodge for Moby. Or Jim James or Paul McCartney for that matter. This is the year for me, Traci, The Rud, Melanie, Bill, Derek, Myron, Matt, and everyone else who is going to be involved in Motherlodge to discover what it is.

Motherblog #1

Bill had another great idea. 

"Why don't you blog about the Motherlodge as its coming together, that way next time you'll have notes on what happened and what to improve on."

My first note of what to improve on has been with me since day one - never schedule as many shows with me in them again. But there was no way of avoiding that this year. To start, the only way I could imagine filling 8 days was to think of the people and ideas within my reach. 

The Opening Concert is going to be the last thing that ultimately comes together, which figures, because it is the mission statement of Motherlodge. And like every good mission statement, it eludes containment like a dolphin covered in vaseline writhing on the deck of a tuna boat.

To start, the centerpiece of the concert is meant to be the audience, not the performers, but how exactly do you get people to come without a good reason? So tonight, a little over 2 weeks out, I am scrambling with the list of performers to advertise. The poster has yet to be made (!) It is going to say "10.00 suggested cover. Pay what you can. Just come." The emphasis is on just come. It stems from an idea that Chef Tim at Salvation Army and I feel strong about - everyone at some point can use a free meal. But for some reason, we attach a meaning to the kind of person that accepts a free meal. And this is block one in us being able to understand ourselves and anyone else in the context of our community. I hope some people who can barely afford the cover pay, because we will give them something worth paying for. And I hope some people who can afford to don't, so they can enjoy being taken care of. Don't get me wrong - we need to make money from the show. Quite a bit of money would be great, because the idea of Motherlodge is that everyone gets paid as well as possible. But for this, our opening concert, it is more important to stress community. There are nearly 1300 seats to fill. Just come.

The name of the opening concert is a tricky bugger, and I imagine at this very moment our co-organizer Todd Hildreth stretching his best German Mother Frown across his face as he reads some of the titles we have come up with for the opening concert.

But I should share some ideas before I get to the title options (which, by the way, are only options in my head because Tim and I settled an hour ago on a title - I'm just still pondering in my usual Ray way.)

So, some backstory - a few years ago - 15 or so actually, Craig Wagner and Joseph Castriota and I came up with a concert idea for our jazz trio. We were students at Bellarmine at the time and in our short jazz careers we had what I now think was a surprising knack for arrangements of spiritual songs. We also loved the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar (the funky one with Ian Anderson and Murray Head). So Bellarmine College (at the time they hadn't found their way to University status) could only say yes to our idea to do a themed concert of music that turned a secular eye to the last story of Jesus.

Keep in mind, this was long before Mel Gibson or Southeast Christian. 

I'm not sure what I mean by pointing that out, but there it is.

We never ever addressed the idea of Jesus resurrecting because we thought it was the part of the story that sold out the intelligence of the people who found inspiration in the man's story. In terms of song selections, we had some missteps. I really had no business singing "Simple Song" or "They Won't Go When I Go". And one year, when Craig failed to edit down a video we borrowed, the program ran with 4 excruciatingly long minutes of a televangelist hitting his peaks accompanied by overdubbed fart sounds. 

But by the third year, there was a focus and drive to what we were doing that made for some of the best theater, music, and live art that I've ever participated in. 

These days we are post Gibson and present Southeast Christian (a Louisville Church that has the budget to take out full page adds for their Passion spectacular show that sells out their church which seats thousands). With the Jesus story staying current with the modern temper, I don't see anything wrong with the next gospel contextualizing Jesus as an X Man, or a South Park character for that matter. But what has changed for me since our last concerts has come from living in New York: whatever you believe had best be of use to your neighbor or else it's not worth a shit. And by neighbor I don't mean the neighborhood, the demographic, the high school. I mean everyone sharing this world with you. 

In his poem "Motherlodge", Kipling writes, "We met upon the level and parted on the square". He talks of the distinctions of religions recognized in the outside world, but of the little consequence they had inside the Motherlodge. (Which was, by the way, a Free Mason lodge).

Sure, Kipling didn't speak of women or homosexuals, but giving him the benefit of the doubt, we arrive at what I hope will be the core of the concert on the 29th - a warm, inviting place where everyone is welcome and encouraged to belong. Because of this it is my hope that Jesus stories are just part of the meditation, and that we land more firmly in the contemplation of everyone's story.

Tim and I like the title: "The Passion Fruits". I also like "SUP". Whatever it's named will taste and sound marvelous.