I sound AMAZING in my car

Last night I went to a rock and roll concert, stayed out too late, and witnessed my first doobie smoking in a long time. As souvenirs I have a fading "Over 21" stamp on my hand and an exhaustion headache that probably has a lot to do with drinking three glasses of the Fillmore's house white, served in plastic tumblers.

But it's all worth it because Patty Griffin was a revelation. I didn't just love her, I lerved her, which is like love, but with extra feeling and much welling up.

Here she is, singing Heavenly Day (which, by the way, should totally be your first dance song at your next wedding).

I spent most of the concert fantasizing about being able to sing. I sometimes think people who can really sing must never be sad. I've spent a lot of time thinking this about Aretha Franklin. I mean, why cry when you can belt? Of course, history does not bear out this philosophy. A lot of people who can sing are tortured and depressive and end up choking on their own vomit. So, there's that.

Still, I wish I could learn this song so I could sing it to the Mister on our upcoming 10th anniversary. Wouldn't that be cool? Wouldn't you just get all choked up? Not on vomit. In a good way.

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Next time on Up Mama's Wall : Should you have that second baby (or please join me in the exhausting chaos that is my life).

Leonard Cohen would never Twitter

I have told my writing students many times that beginning a piece of writing with the words, "I don't know what to say," is, to say the least, lame and lazy.  But, um, I don't know what to say about Leonard Cohen.  I don't like to read about music and I've already documented my own history with music bullies, so let me just borrow some wise words from the Mister and say, Leonard Cohen means that shit. I got to see him in concert last night and he was just so commanding and funny and human and spry and vulnerable and dapper and humble.  And the lyrics.  Oh, the lyrics. 

What I kept thinking as he would fall to his knees in his natty gray suit and sing to the floor (nay, plead to the floor) was, this is exactly why I hate Twitter.  On the spectrum of human expression, Leonard Cohen and Twitter fall on opposite ends.  And I chose Leonard.

Click here and watch and you might choose him too.

And by all means, feel free to try to convince me that Twitter is great.  It's not going to work, but I am interested in the argument. 

A thing I like

This cartoon found on, yes, Twitter, (click to se a bigger image) 

and sent to me by my dear friend H. 

Matt the Electrician and my musical life

During the summer of 1981, I was at Buddhist camp in Vermont and I made the mistake of telling one of the cute brothers from Canada that I liked The Who.  He had asked me about my  favorite bands and since I had recently heard The Who and liked them, I thought this was an acceptable answer. This was my first, painful lesson in music coolness.  He laughed in my face and then squinted up his eyes like he was dealing with a real snake.  "What's your favorite song? What's your favorite album and can you name the order of the songs on it? Name the band members."  I could, of course, do none of this stuff.  It hadn't occurred to me that you were not allowed to like music in a casual way and not know anything about it or its band-of-origin. I just liked that song that went "Who are you, who-who, who-who. . ." At least that's how I thought it went.

I stared blankly back at his adorable suntanned face until he gave up on me with a little disgusted puff of air and went off to tell his super-cool older brothers about how I was a total poseur who didn't know anything about The Who. 

This experience sort of scarred me and my scars were not helped by the fact that my brother started making fun of my musical tastes when I was seventeen and he was TEN (what's wrong with John Cougar Mellencamp, I ask you?) and the fact that I can not—simply can NOT—remember song lyrics.

So, I've never been big into music.  I like music, but I'm always sort of intimidated to express my opinions. What if some guy who has memorized the order of every Led Zepplin album starts to question me?  What if I have to admit that I once studiously memorized EVERY word to EVERY song on Thriller, or someone tries to force me to defend early Madonna? Easier just to keep it to myself.

Until now.

A thing I like 

My friend Jen gave me a CD called One Right Thing for my birthday and I just recently opened it and stuck it in the car stereo, and I've just got to say that I heart Matt the Electrician so much I am sort of beside myself. Why, you ask?  Because he's funny and he writes songs about everyday things, and he often thumps on the wooden part of his guitar, and he plays the banjo, and his music sounds to me like the smartest, most fun train ride in the world.  And, that's really all I can tell you. Listen for yourself. I just can't get enough of "Change the Subject."