Tuning in to Cinder Bridge ... and out again

As I mentioned earlier, Cinder Bridge is going to be on the radio next Friday. Yay!

Naturally, we want as many people to hear us as possible. To that end, I sent a message out to our mailing list explaining that even if they didn't live in Tucson, they could still catch the show. All they had to do was go to KXCI's website and hear us streaming. I provided instructions on how to do this.

Not long after the e-mail blast, I received the following panicked e-mail from my mother:

OK, I just checked the link to the station you'll be on, to be sure we could hear it. I got it in just fine, BUT NOW I CAN'T TURN IT OFF. Do you know how I do this? I clicked off it, like you would do for an email, but it's still playing. Forever??????

I wrote back, asking what she meant when she said she clicked off "it." What was "it"? Maybe she had closed the browser window instead of whatever app was supposed to play the music.

Yep. Her next e-mail said that my dad fixed the problem by quitting iTunes.

Parents are so cute when they try to use technology!

Opening acts rock

Ron and I haven't gone out of our way to find opening acts. Maybe it doesn't occur to us because our sets tend not to exceed two hours. Opening acts come in handy when the main act would otherwise have to play for a long time. For instance, in the Music on the Mountain concert series, performing artists are given five hours in which to do their thing. Those who don't want to collapse onstage opt to let other people play before them, which is how we scored a two-hour slot in next week's MOTM.

I thought of it as sort of a utilitarian thing. But now I'm reassessing.

Ron the Drummer happened to know a guitarist, Lucas Barber, from a vitamin store he frequents. Lucas was interested in playing with us. We liked what we heard on his Myspace page, and we said yes. He and buddy Brad Sconzert, another guitarist, played a half hour set at our Cottage Bakery gig last night.

Sharing the stage with another band made everything more fun. The cross-pollination was nice too. The people who came for Lucas and Brad had never heard of us, but they liked us.

So yeah, we've got to do this more often.

Les Paul

Les Paul died today of complications of pneumonia. He was 94.

You probably know that he built one of the first solid-body electric guitars. I had not known until today, however, that he also invented the first eight-track recorder.

A nice obit, one of many, is here.

Lalago will never die

At our last gig, Ron the Drummer and I did a CD exchange with percussionist Will Clipman, swapping a copy of Highways and Hiking Shoes for Pathfinder. I don't often listen to world music, but I liked Pathfinder. His music moved.

Tonight I played the album for my boyfriend. As he listened, he asked, "What is world music, anyway?"

That stumped me. I know it when I hear it, but I'm not sure how to define it.

"I mean," he continued, "what does world music exclude?"

Yeah, good point. This is the problem I had with the "alternative" label when alternative music was becoming a thing. Alternative to what? Everything is an alternative!

Oh, I know what they meant. But eventually alternative became mainstream in its own right. And the name didn't change.

This doesn't seem to bother anyone but me.

Sadly, the worst music genre name I know is the one we belong to: adult album alternative. At least "world music" and just plain "alternative" don't sound like they were invented by a marketing committee. Not as much, anyway.

Sometimes I try to come up with more descriptive terms for the kind of music we play. This hasn't gotten me very far. No one thinks "coffeehouse stadium rock" or "angst pop" are nearly as clever as I do.

Screw it. I'm just going to start making up words.

"So what kind of music do you play."

"Primarily lalago, but we dabble occasionally in free frizz."

"...?"

Music on the Mountain

I finally got to catch some Music on the Mountain performances today. For the uninitiated, Music on the Mountain is a summer concert series held every Sunday at the top of Mt. Lemmon, just outside of Tucson. People who go can enjoy good music and the great outdoors at the same time. Because of the altitude -- and this is key -- they can do so without melting into a puddle.

It's such a good idea, I'm a little surprised nobody thought to do it before Bonnie Vining and LAVA (Live Acoustic Venue Association) started it this year. (And I'm not just saying that because Cinder Bridge is going to be playing up there in a couple of weeks.)

In addition to hearing Duncan Stitt, Brad Fritz, and Chuck Wagon and the Wheels, I finally scored Duncan's new CD, Shortcut to the Promised Land. I'm very psyched.

A night at the Glass Onion

Glass Onion gig has come and gone. All in all, things went quite well. Some highlights:

• Before we began, the Glass Onion hosted a book-signing. The book, called Memories of Elvis, was about (unsurprisingly) people's memories of Elvis Presley. The writers stuck around for part of our set, and we took a short break while they raffled off one of their books. When they headed toward the door, I announced that Elvis was leaving the building. I'd been waiting all night to say that.
  
  
• A two- or three-year-old toddled about the room for a while. I got nervous whenever he came close to the door (what if he opened it and ran out?) or our huge speaker (what if he pulled it down on top of himself?). I knew other people were watching him. He never got too far out of range without some adult reining him in. Still, I wondered. If it looked as though he were about to do something dangerous, at what point would I need to stop singing and yell for help?
  
  
• A woman wandered in after most everyone else had called it a night. She'd never heard of us, but she stuck around until the end of our set and bought a CD. I love it when we're able to hook a total stranger.
  
  
• A musician with a reputation for excellence also heard us for the first time and liked us. Feels pretty good when we make a positive impression on someone who really knows something about music.
  
  
• Succumbing to chocolate temptation the previous night didn't affect my singing one bit. I feel vindicated.
  

Substance abuse

"Have you decided on dessert?" the waiter asked.

I knew I shouldn't. Cinder Bridge would be performing tomorrow night, and sugar and dairy tend to gunk up your throat. My general rule is to abstain from both for 24 hours before singing in public. But here I was, celebrating a friend's birthday, eating at a nice restaurant for the first time in a good while, and the last item on the menu was screaming my name.

"I'll have the flourless chocolate cake," I said.

The cake arrived, along with banana gelato. I consumed rich, delicious chocolate and guilt in equal measure. When I got through a little over half of it, I stopped and let our waiter box it.

Then came the remorse. Had I really needed dessert that much? Granted, it wasn't all that likely to cause big problems. The 24-hour rule is kind of arbitrary. I still had the rest of the night and a good part of the next day to let the effects pass. But I should've held out, you know, just in case.

Later, when I got home, it occurred to me that my personality is all wrong for the music scene.

How many musicians take the stage liquored up or coked up? How many need a joint or two before they feel relaxed enough to perform? In that context, why worry about half a slice of cake and a tiny bit of ice cream?

My lifestyle is squeaky clean! I deserve chocolate!

This rationalization has been brought to you by the letter Q and the number 9.

* * *

If you happen to be reading this from Tucson, come see us at the aforementioned gig. We'll be playing at the Glass Onion on Friday, Aug. 7, from 7 to 9 p.m. Directions here.

I promise not to have any more chocolate 'til then.