:: dreaming of schemes ::

The musings, politics, frustrations and triumphs of an extrovertedly introverted musician from Philadelphia, PA.

Next shows: Blue Scheme: Wed., November 12 (blue scheme on last), Grape Street Pub [Manayunk], w/Lazlo and Secret Society, 105 Grape St., Philadelphia, $5, 21+, Doors at 9:00 pm
Wed., November 19 (blue scheme on first) Malokai's/Club 218 South [Center City], w/TBA 218 South St., Philadelphia $6, 21+, Doors at 9:00 pm
Fri., November 21 (blue scheme on second) Tokio Ballroom [Center City], w/Wellstar and Heather G 122 Lombard St., Philadelphia $5, 21+. Doors at 8:00 pm
Yellow Brain: Saturday, December 27, Fergie's Pub, 1214 Sansom, Philadelphia, 9:30pm

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:: Wednesday, May 28, 2003 ::

I can’t stop thinking about…

Music. Music. Music. Music. Frikkin’ music. Glorious music. Despair and bliss.

Music makes me do bad things and it makes me do good things. But unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the good thing it makes me do is to propagate it and share it with others. One of the bad things is that sometimes it makes me isolate myself and willfully put distance between myself from others in order for me to have the time to work on it so that I can share the music inside me successfully with everyone.

Why do I have this desire? I think sometimes it’s easier for me, an extroverted introvert, to explain myself to others. But it’s still a passion. So why do I have this passion? You know, thinking about this gets me thinking about the nature of passion. Is it a true feeling? Or is it a self-indulgence born of wanting to be completely overtaken by something–-anything? Here’s one way of looking at it: if you’re at church, and the music stirs into a frenzy and you start speaking in tongues and you feel that you’re overtaken by the holy spirit, are you really overtaken by the holy spirit or is it just your desire to be consumed that drives you to act this way? Does it really matter?

Late night questions. With late night answers: beer.

I didn’t drink enough at the show we had tonight. I’m doing my best to compensate now that I’m at home, but I’ll still fail. Which is fine. I do need to get up for work.

Dammit. Bittersweet dammit.

We played L’hexagone tonight. We didn’t have a practice beforehand. I actually had a practice before the show with Keith DiStefano and Peter Gaudioso, from Yellowbrain. We did some groove and some jazz. Keith invited a trumpeter and a saxophonist. I learned some new songs, but blew some chord changes that I should have known how to play. I feel better now, but I hate ruining changes, and ruining them in obvious fashion. I'm a better pianist than that, dammit. But sometimes I'm not. And part of being able to grow is to accept my failings and striving to improve upon them. It's also important to not necessarily think of failings as failings, but as issues that I can work on to become a better pianist. I can do that, but it's still hard. Even though the past is the past, I've got a tough memory to erase.

I thought tonight's show at L'hexagone went off well. Noah was pleased when I told him this—apparently I never think any of our shows are good, so the fact that I was happy with this one spoke those proverbial volumes. More accurately, often I don’t feel happy with my own performance. And though there were still things that I know I could have done better, I felt a lot better about it in general. A number of friends were in the house tonight, some of whom I hadn’t seen in a while, and some of whom had never actually seen Blue Scheme actually play (they’ve seen me and Noah play at Fergie’s backed up by the capable Peter Gaudioso and James “Super Duper” Cooper—good as they are, it’s not the same as the actual five of us). My friend Brooke came to see us tonight, and I was awfully happy to see her—I don’t know if she knows how happy I was, as I’m either a book so open that it’s transparent, or so painfully stoic that my happiness looks like indifference and my indifference looks like a slowly escalating fury. She’s an awesome singer and songwriter, and her presence at Fergie’s Open Mic has been missed. Her voice is sweet and earthy, a lovely reddish-brown. Sort of like the taste and color of Puerh, my favorite tea. I felt bad that I couldn’t play a song of mine for her that she likes. I hadn’t played it in a while and I couldn’t remember it too well. But I’m really flattered that she thinks that highly of it. It’s called “The Moment,” and I guess I never really liked it that much, not so much because I think it’s a little sappy, but more that it was sappy without having a muse to inspire the sappiness. Oh wait, it did have a muse—a person I sort of ran into a few days ago. But I’m not going to get into that here. Even so, the inspiration for it was fueled more by the desire to be in love (hell, or even lust or like) as opposed to actually being in anything concrete.

It’s sort of funny—I’ve got an unfinished love song for almost ever girlfriend I’ve ever had (so not that many unfinished songs, heh), but then I go and finish a love song to the idea of a girlfriend. Go fuckin’ figure.

My good friend Jenny also came and brought some friends with her. Tonight was her birthday, and I was honored to sing Happy Birthday to her with Noah backing me up (his intro to the song was interminably long, but at least no one knew what the hell we were doing until I started singing, or at least as far as I know, no one knew what we were doing). It was good to see her—I’ve missed her quite a bit. We both suffer from the same bad habit: not calling or returning calls in a timely manner. The good thing is that we both understand it and never hold it against the other. She’s a wonderful person with a good heart—one of those types of people that you really feel blessed to know.

My friends Chris, David, and Joel also came, and it was great to see them and to play for them.

I love to play. I love to play. I love to play. But sometimes I feel a little empty afterward. I’m not always sure why, and when I have an idea as to why, it varies. Sometimes I think it’s because I fear that I won’t be able to reach or touch as many people as I hope to with my music. Sometimes I think it’s because I fear it’s not that good. Sometimes I think I don't like it anymore, and I want nothing more than to be away from it, for a time approaching forever, but not quite as long. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. There are always sometimes. Sometimes seems to be a major theme in my songs. Joel mentioned that to me sometime ago (that wasn’t intended) and I have to agree. I think it has to do with the amount of uncertainty that I think is present in my life. I can’t live with it, yet I can’t live without it.

Goodness. All these “I think,” “I think,” “I thinks.” A little uncertainty would certainly be an understatement.

You know, I can shape and mold music anyway I’d like. It never hurts me or seeks to do so. It never accidentally damages me through any fault of its own. Any problem I end up having with it stems from my own problems. Or at least seems to.

Enough of this. I can ramble forever. Coherence is a virtue. I will be virtuous in the morn.

:: Anam 4:05 AM [+] ::
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