Market

I have still been unable to blog from my phone... I'm going to contact Sprint's customer disservice department later today, I think, and attempt complaining again.

Currently, it's a little after noon, and I have only just woken up a little bit ago. I had some wicked strange dreams (I was a prosecutor on a cruise ship that sails black seas under blacker skies? I helped two girls that I liked back in middle school get out of some kind of trouble...).

I am incredibly tired... my body is telling me that I worked too hard yesterday, playing at the Farmer's Market in Gloversville. I played for three hours straight! No breaks. There was a steady flow of people, so I didn't want to stop and miss my chance to sell a CD or pick up a tip.

I had a great time playing and I did pick up quite a bit in tips. I also came home with a loaf of bread (which is delicious, by the way), that was given to me as a tip from the guy who makes his own bread.

I had a couple of weird experiences at the Farmer's Market this time around. I must warn you in advance that I'm going to tell it like it happened, which means reader's discretion is advised.

I was playing along about an hour into the gig when this hippie-ish looking cowboy appears at the muffin table next to were I was playing. He was loud and obnoxious, which complimented the shirt he was wearing. It read: I have the DICK, so I'm in CHARGE. He was wearing dark sunglasses, had a bushy goatee, and wore a cowboy hat. He was most definitely drunk.

Dick-man -- as I will now call him -- walk in front of where I was playing. He started calling out songs he wanted me to cover. (I thought to myself, If he says Freebird, I'm going to hit him over the head with my guitar case.) He suddenly got on this Michael Jackson kick. "Play, um, um... that one song by Michael Jackson... what was it called... c'mon man, um, um, Thriller! Play Thriller." I finished my song and explained that, No, I don't know any Michael Jackson, even Thriller, Billie Jean, and, yes, I can moonwalk, but, no, I'm not going to do it. He then switched to country. "Can you play country? You better play some country." I told him that I could play, Folsom Prison. He said, "Play Boy Named Sue." I told him that I don't know Boy Named Sue and that I would play Folsom Prison. He said, okay, and proceeded to walk behind my PA system and attempt to push me away from the microphone. I stopped playing the intro and said: "No. I'll sing into the mic. You sing loud." Then, I pointed to where I wanted him to stand. I played the song and Dick-man sang the last word in each line about two seconds after I sang it. I wish I had a picture of me playing with an oh-my-god-get-this-guy-away-from-me look on my face, while Dick-man posed and sang in his ridiculously inappropriate T-shirt. The song finished and he told me to play something else. I played Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan, but explained that this was going to be "our last one together." Dick-man knew about a 10th of the words and sang them after I sang them. Part way through the song, he left my side and danced in front of where I was playing. He began yelling to me to turn it up and play louder. At the end of the song, I told him I wasn't going to turn it up and play louder because I was asked to play at this level. He then walked over next to me again and said in an angry, aggressive voice, "I'm going to take your guitar out of your hands and kick your fucking ass." I stared back at him. He said, "You don't think I can do it?" I said, "I do think you can do it" in a calm voice, "but, I don't think you will do it." Dick-man softened back up and said, "No. I won't do it." Then, he walked off to "yell at the judge" (the city judge takes part in a lot of community building activities and often comes to the Farmer's Market). Dick-man did yell at the judge and then returned to me to tell me what he had done. I was in the middle of a song and ignored him. Then, he patted me on the back like we were buddies and left.

After the gig, I was packing up and the Farmer's were packing up, when I tattooed guy walked into the pavilion. He began asking one older farmer-lady what I was doing and if I sounded good. He mumbled a lot and made odd gestures with his hands. He was clearly high on something. The farmer-lady made a comment that she was waiting for her husband to pick her up. The high-guy said, "Why are you always talking about your husband? Is he going to drive here in his truck? And then are you going to do him?"

I looked at the high-guy and said, "That was incredibly inappropriate." He went on to say that people fight in Gloversville and that it happens at night, but not during the day. He told us as a warning that we should watch out. I thanked him for the advice and he walked away mumbling and making hand gestures.

Other than Dick-man and High-guy, I had a great time playing. I had some young "fans" watching me play for multiple songs while their parents kept saying that they had to go. The kids kept saying, "No. We are having fun. We want to stay."

Victoria Bouffard -- fellow singer/songwriter -- stopped by for a while toward the end of my set. She took some pictures, which I downloaded from facebook and posted here:



Tips and bread:







The fans:







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At open mic this past Thursday, the caffe was crowded!! It was a one song night and I decided to play You Don't Know How it Feels by Tom Petty. I invited Dave Scheffel to play Harmonica and Rik Kent to play Djimbe. It came out pretty good, I think. I got people to sing along, so that was cool.

Wallflower

When I was 18 or so, I unofficially made a list of things I wanted to do before I die. I didn't write these things down (thus, the unofficialness) and, so, I have no record other than my vague memory of making the list to go on. I don't recall how many items there were on the list, but they ranged from really ridiculous things (like: learn to rollerblade backwards) to things that are really totally, super-ridiculous and probably wouldn't ever happen anyway (like: marry Winona Ryder). My 18 year old self was a much different person than my current self, but we share many similarities (like: ridiculous sense of humour and slight inability to take life too seriously).

Yesterday, I accomplished one of the items on my list.

In the late 90s (when I was 18 -- yes, you can do the math), I was a huge fan of the Wallflowers. 6th Avenue Heartache hit a note the first time I heard the intro. My dad gave me their CD (wait, I think it was a cassette first...), because he worked for the company that manufactured them, and I steadily became entranced by their songs. Little by little I became obsessed and -- like any teenage girl -- began putting posters and pictures up all over my room. I built a shrine to Jakob Dylan, which included photographs I had bought and magazine pictures that I had cut out. I bought a black fedora (which I still wear). I also grew a small goatee, like Jakob's and started to cut my own hair because I read that Jakob cut his.

I have sense grown out of my obsession, but continue to love the band and Jakob's songs, collecting all of their CDs and watching videos of their live performances on YouTube.

I have been dying to see the Wallflowers play live again, but they haven't toured very extensively and always missed upstate NY. There were some times when I contemplated making a trip to the city to see them or to Buffalo or other nearby cities, such as Boston, but the dates never matched up well with my schedule of family gatherings or holidays or work.

Which is why I was incredibly excited to see that they were coming to Northern Lights.

I bought tickets.

Stephanie and I saw them play last night.

In the past ten years or so, I have made it a point to attempt to meet the band after the show. No matter what band I was seeing, I would hang around afterwards. I have been successful on many attempts, usually tagging along with slutty looking girls who want to have their breasts signed, or by just trying to appear non-threatening to the security guards so they wouldn't yell at me and make me go away. I have met two of my favorite musician's recently: Aimee Mann and Shawn Mullins. I wrote about them on the blog after it happened.

Meeting bands has been really cool. Some of them have even asked, "Do you play?" Adding that they "thought so" or "could tell." But, none of the bands or musicians that I have met were the Wallflowers. And -- because I was obsessed with them at age 18 and arbitrarily decided to make an unofficial list of things I wanted to do before I died -- I had to meet them, or risk not achieving all of the things on my ridiculous 18-year-old-self's list of things to do before I die.

The doors to Northern Lights opened an hour before the show. We got there a half an hour before that and waited in line. Once we were let in, Stephanie and I walked straight up to the stage where we stood behind the first line of people who already took up the leaning-against-the-stage position.

The opener was a solo acoustic musician who had a laptop back him up with all of the excitement and talent of a karaoke machine. He got way into his songs and walked back from the mic jamming his head and strumming really hard. Stephanie said that she wasn't impressed by him. I didn't like his voice or the karaoke back up, but I appreciated the fact that he wrote original stuff.

After an hour long intermission (still not sure why it needed to take an hour), the Wallflowers came out. Jakob was the last one to take the stage and the moment I saw him, I began to smile and even laughed a little out loud. It was a little like my first time to Yankee Stadium. I watched so much baseball on TV and when I went to my first game and walked out onto the mezzanine and saw the field and the scoreboard and everything, I was awed. It looked familiar and yet surreal.

I still have some Wallflowers posters up around the house and some pictures of Jakob. Seeing him in real life was awesome. Familiar and surreal. And a little bit of my 18-year-old-self's obsession came back.

I took some pictures. They came out blurry. Here are the best ones:









They opened with Angel on my Bike, which was pretty cool. (I just realized I could probably go song by song here and talk about each one, but that would be incredibly long-winded and unnecessary). Some of the songs they played were 6th Avenue Heartache, One Headlight, God Says Nothing Back, Three Marlenas, Nearly Beloved, Empire in My Mind, Shy of the Moon, etc. I sang along with each song and it was excellent.

At the end of the show and the place began to clear out, I talked to one of the security guys. I asked him if we could walk out the back way and stand near the tour bus. He said, "no." I said, "we'll stay out of the way, we just want to wait and see if the band will come out." He said, "no." I asked if we could walk around the building from the front. He said, "no."

We walked out the front doors and proceeded to walk around the back.

Along the way, we ran into to three women who had just driven their car back by the tour bus. They said they had been yelled at by security guards and told to leave. The five of us walked together around the back of the building toward the bus. We got yelled at and walked back. I stood in the shadows and watched as two sluttily-dressed women casually walked over to the tour bus smoked cigarettes by near it. I started to get pissed that the slutty girls were allowed to hang out while I was not.

Soon, two more girls joined our little group and proceeded to tell us that strength in numbers could over power the security guards. One of the girls made a point to say that I was at a disadvantage because I don't have boobs. I agreed. They walked toward the tour bus and were allowed to hang out. I said, "let's go."

Stephanie and I walked to the bus and hung out with the slutty girls. We talked about the show and singing along and being fans, when I noticed that the entire band, sans Jakob, was outside of the tour bus talking in small groups with other people who had gathered. I approached Greg Richling -- the bass player who had been with the band since the beginning -- and talked to him about seeing the band in '98 with Sheryl Crow. He asked if I played and I said "yes." He said, "Yeah, I kinda thought so." I told him about my solo acoustic thing and he talked about how difficult it is to be on the same page with your band mates, which is why he and Jakob are the only original members. He talked about how life gets in the way and you aren't always able to keep the same commitment that you once were. We then talked to Fred, the drummer, and Bill Appleberry, who is their keyboardist. Bill was cool, and also asked me if I played. We talked about performing and baking (his last name is Appleberry -- how can you talk to him about baking?).

Then we met Jakob. We didn't quite talk to him; it was more like goofing around. He was very silly and quite witty. I told him that Stephanie wanted to get her picture first, but I didn't think it was fair. He said that there aren't many things he's willing to fight over, but that this was one of them. I took their picture:



I told them to make funny faces. Jakob lowered his eye lids. It was silly, but makes it look like he is winking. Stephanie will tell you that he is winking at her. I will tell you that I was holding the camera and so he was definitely winking at me.

I asked him to sign my CD cover and asked him where he buys his hats. He explained that you have to go to the "gentleman's stores" in downtown areas. I explained that we were in the middle of nowhere and there is really is no downtown in Clifton Park. Stephanie took our picture:



I told him that he wasn't supposed to make a silly face in my picture and that he had to do a serious-Jakob-Dylan look for another one:



I, of course, blinked... urg.

In the end, we met all of the members of the band (Stuart Mathis, the guitarist was the last who we talked to) and got all of their autographs. After Jakob went back to the tour bus, we talked with Bill Appleberry again. He wished me luck on my music thing and I wished him luck on his.

We walked past the security guards that had yelled at us and said we couldn't wait by the tour bus and proceeded to head to the car. Some of the slutty girls were showing off the places on their bodies where the band had signed them to each other. I wondered allowed if they knew that the marker was going to wash off, and if they cared.



On the way to the car Stephanie told me that she thought Jakob Dylan was hot. This was a surprise because I had been making the statement to her for many years and she has always disagreed with me. In fact, she has made it a point to say that he is ugly and has asked me to take pictures down. I'm glad she changed her mind, so I can keep the pictures up. Stephanie will also tell you that Jakob flirted with her and that I am jealous. Maybe I am. Either way, at least I say that I fulfilled one of the pieces of my ridiculous 18-year-old-self's list of things to do before I die. I met Jakob Dylan and shook his hand.

Sprint

Sprint is being uncooperative and has decided to take away my picture mailing privileges, which means I can't blog from cell phone. I'm quite perturbed by this, especially since I am paying for unlimited picture mail capabilities. The issue is that, even though I am paying for unlimited picture mail, I am not paying for unlimited data usage. It doesn't make sense to me either. I plan on trying to work it out with their customer disservice department so that I can have my unlimited picture mail back without paying extra for it.

In the mean time, I have to post pictures and blog the old fashion way.

Lena's this past Thursday was a great night as usual. It was one of those summer days where you felt like you could stay up all night. Maybe that was because I had Friday off from work for the holiday. I played Passenger and God Says Nothing Back by the Wallflowers. I took a picture of the facade with the new guitar lights and tried to send it via picture mail to the blog. It failed. Here it is:



The following day, I slept in. Relaxed most of the day until the afternoon when I went to Stephanie's uncle's house to ride his motorcycle. I fell off multiple times, including the wicked face plant that certainly would have broken my nose if not for the helmet and face shield. At the end of the day, I learned how to ride (and more importantly: stop) and only ended up with a long scratch down my right knee. It happened when I fell off the bike in a field that I drove off the road into. So, I can't even call it a road rash. It's more like a field rash.

That night, I hung out with some friends. We went to Saratoga and ate at Moe's, which is a slightly classier Taco Bell with real meat. We walked Broadway and caught some bands that were playing as part of their Fourth of July Celebration. I took some pictures of my friends in Bluesology, but they came out blurry -- the pictures, not the friends.

On Saturday, we had a little gathering/BBQ in the backyard. Stephanie's brother bought and brought some fireworks, which we shot off, and some sparklers that the nephew played with. Later in the evening, we had a fire going in the fire pit and roasted marshmallows and had S'mores. This soon became a how-many-marshmallows-can-you-put-in-your-mouth-at-one-time contest. Stephanie's friend, Leigha, won with 10. My friend, Bill, was going for 10 when he cracked up laughing and began hurling marshmallows all over the place. Which, I might add, was the best part of the contest. Some pictures to prove my point:







After the how-many-marshmallows-can-you-put-in-your-mouth-at-one-time contest, we played Trivia Pursuit Pop Culture Edition. Stephanie and I came in second (of course, there were only two teams by the time the game ended).

Today, we went to our friend, Maurizio's, Fourth of July gathering/birthday. Maurizio is of course a musician/songwriter and his cake was this:



Which is pretty cool!! There was a ton of food and I definitely overate. I'm actually going to log off in a sec and fall into a food induced coma, which should last the night.

Then, it's back to work.

Inside the Open Mic Finale

A quick posting here with two videos at the bottom. They are two parts, and as a whole make up the final episode of Inside the Open Mic, my video series. It is a two parter because it features myself and I am long-winded and ramble. Toward the end, there is a song about peanut butter... If you've missed any episodes of the series, or want to go back and watch one you liked, there is a video player located at www.jamesfrederick.net/inside.shtml that contains all of the episodes. Or go to YouTube and type in "Inside the Open Mic" and you'll find them all. Enjoy!

Robots in Disguise

Open mic was incredibly crowded this past Thursday. I got picked late in the drawing, but miraculously the first slot was still open. So, I played first -- well, first after the host Kate Blain played one of her own. I played Walking; Standing Still and Walls by Tom Petty. I love Walls. I wish I had learned it sooner. I received a good response from the huge crowd.

The following day, I brought my guitar to a training for my job. It was the the third day of the training and I was beginning to build some rapport with the people that I sat near. During one break, I played a couple tunes, one of which was Passenger. After the song, one of the trainees said, "Do you mind if I make a comment on the song?" I said, "no" and she went on to say that I must have been really depressed when I wrote the song. I don't remember her exact words, but she talked about parts of the song and the feeling that she got from it. I was pretty excited that she totally "got" the song. It was like she had analyzed it for weeks. She was so knowledgeable about it. I was very impressed.

Later that night, I went to see Transformers 2. I could probably vent about all the things that I didn't like about it for days... but, I did enjoy the story and the action, of course, was plentiful. I didn't like the robot that turned into a girl. That was really random... it was more Terminator than Transformers... The other thing that really irked was the two "stupid" robots. They were basically retarded robots and were meant for comic relief. I found them to be annoying and really quite stupid and pointless. Speaking of comic relief... there was too much of it. Too much stupid funny. I mean, you are fighting giant robots here that are going to destroy the planet. This is serious. Not funny. Lastly, the story focused mostly on Optimus Prime and Sam, which left all of the other Autobots to be pretty much non-existent for most of the movie. They showed up in battles and disappeared randomly. There was a blue Autobot at one point in the film. He was MIA for the rest of it. Weird.

I went to the movie with a huge nerd friend of mine, Bill. While waiting in line, we were trying to remember the name of the guy in Quantum Leap -- not Sam Beckett; his friend who talks to Ziggy. We couldn't think of it so I texted my brother. He knew. It's Al. In the theater, before the movie started, Bill was talking about how he liked the word "chided" but never used it. He said, "I should use it more often." I responded, "You're such a dork for not using 'chided' more often." The guy sitting next to me cracked up laughing.

In more music related news, I finished the final episode of Inside the Open Mic. It features me. I may upload it later today. It's actually a two parter because YouTube only allows you ten minutes.

Pics From Caffe Lena 6/24

Intermission. So, here are a few pics of David performing. Sounds great! Your missing an excellent show. Getting to hear some songs I've never heard him play, including the Tom Waits version of 'Down
Town Train.'

Pics From Caffe Lena 6/24

David Fey at Caffe Lena 6/24

I'm writing from Caffe Lena. David Fey is playing the emerging artist series and I am here to listen. I'm mostly sitting alone, except that Rik Kent is sitting nearby with Laura his girlfriend. I was
also introduced to some of David's family and had a nice conversation about live music with two live music lovers. Before coming here, I ate dinner (leftover Panera) at Uncommon Grounds and checked my
facebook. Which, by the way, still drives me insane with its non-compatability... After dinner, I stopped at Borders and bought Pete Yorn's new CD. I also looked at every book in the fantasy section
before buying Mostly Harmless, the last Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy book. And the show is starting, so...

David Fey at Caffe Lena 6/24

What's On My Mind

It's the 21st and I haven't done a true blog since the 14th. In between I posted a couple pictures with words from my cell phone. A true entry, however, is now due.

Even so, I don't really have a whole lot to post about. I covered open mic from the open mic. I didn't do anything Friday night because the friends I typically get together with on Friday both had lousy excuses, but excuses non-the-less ("It was a long day at work and I have a headache" and "there is chick involved"). Saturday was a family gathering on Stephanie's side. I became a jungle gym for a period of time as a nephew and second cousin of Stephanie's crawled all over me in acrobatic-like ways. I also watched a lot of Dora the Explorer and was referred to "anti-social" at one point for hanging out where there were cartoons instead of where there were people socializing. This morning I went out to eat with Stephanie, her brother and his family, and their parents for father's day... (shit. I just realized I forgot to text my dad... *texting* ... he is in Florida visiting his dad for the weekend). Anyways, we had breakfast for lunch and at 5:15pm I am still quite full.

There are really only two things on my mind right now. 1) Transformers 2. I am dying to see the movie. I just teased myself by checking out a new trailer online. My excitement level went from a 10 to a 110 in 90 seconds. I just can't get enough giant robots that turn into cars and have to save the world from evil giant robots. The movie opens Wednesday and I am tentatively going with my flaky friends to see it Friday. We were going to make plans about seeing the movie while hanging out this past Friday, but -- as previously mentioned -- we did not get together.

The other thing that is really on my mind right now is the Wallflowers. I wrote about their upcoming concert at Northern Lights a few posts ago. I was pretty stoked then because I was under the impression (thanks to the 'news' section on the Wallflowers' website) that their departed keyboardist/organist was rejoining the band for the tour. Friday, while not hanging out with my friends and stalking bands that I like out of sheer boredom, I discovered this is not true. Instead, they will have a past producer of theirs playing keys on the tour. I'm very torn about how I should be feeling. On the one hand I am very excited to see the Wallflowers live, but I'm disappointed to learn that not all of the Wallflowers will be there. It was like I was given this piece of sweet news and then was told it was all a lie. I'm a little broken up about it.

In other news, I am learning a few new covers to perform. I'm really digging Walls by Tom Petty. I'm also learning You Don't Know How It Feels, but will only be able to play it for certain crowds. For example, I don't think the farmer's market people will hire me back if I am singing, "Let's roll another joint!" I'm also learning God Says Nothing Back by the Wallflowers. Maybe I'll play one of them this week at open mic.





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Some items cleaned off from my phone:



Confusing set of signs. This is located at my old high school right next to a speed bump. I don't even think there's enough road to get a car up to 55 mph.

And this is a short video of South Star showing me one of the few lighter tricks that he knows. I thought I'd test the video capabilities of the camera phone. Not great. But, damn it, Jim. It's a phone. Not a video camera.

Lenas 6/18

I forgot/didn't-have-time to send this last night at open mic. I was very busy 'speed hosting' because the list of performers was so very long. The night ended at 11:30. There were some great songs,
two excellent spoken-word artist, and Knuckles who plays song by cracking his knuckles. He did a sweet job on the Scooby-Doo theme song and received a worthy applause. Anyways, i had time to take a
quick pic in the men's room near a quote from one of my songs.

Lenas 6/18

Lenas 6/18

Hi-O from open mic. Its a packed house here and a fairly long list. And a lot of first timers. Its been a good night with some sweet spoken word. I played 'rainy day' and 'whats up' by four non
blonds. Tom pentkowski suggested I do the cover and I'm glad he did. It went over very well.

Lenas 6/18