<![CDATA[CONCERT CAST - FIELD NOTES]]>

<![CDATA[CONCERT CAST - FIELD NOTES]]>Mon, 13 May 2024 07:30:37 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[The Regenerative Power Of Pop Music]]>Thu, 27 Jul 2023 15:47:37 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/the-regenerative-power-of-pop-musicI can’t help but wonder, was this pop concert the culmination of my healing journey through heartbreak, or rather, the start of a new love cycle?

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The heartbreak journey that takes you down many emotional paths. Depression, displacement—for me, denial that I would ever want to be in love again. And during each stage of my process, the perfect breakup song would seem to serendipitously appear and like a lyrical blanket, insulate my cold heart.

Starting with Carol King lamenting, "It's too Late," transitioning into Little Dragon’s, “No Love.” Then it was Peter Tosh bellowing, “Why Must I Cry,” and as of late, “Last Goodbye” by Jeff Buckley. And many, many, other songwriters were there for me too. Yet, these songs are a double-edged sword inadvertently reinforcing despair. The truth is, they made me kind of calloused towards love too.

But when I ventured into the Maine Savings Amphitheater at the waterfront in Bangor, Maine to photograph contemporary pop stars JAX, MAX, and Big Time Rush, I feel giddy and carefree, and dare I say, start to see love through a sparkling lens of optimism again. And I can’t help but wonder, was this pop concert the culmination of my healing journey, or rather, the start of a new love cycle?

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When I arrived at the newly renovated amphitheater to grab my photo pass, chunky clouds were crawling across the sky, the glowing summer sun was dipping behind the galvanized fence, and a cool breeze was coming off the nearby Penobscot River. Hundreds of young people, adorning handmade shirts and clutching bedazzled signs requesting songs or kisses, were patiently sitting, while countless others, wearing perma-grins, continued to stream in.

I pulled out my Canon 5D, double checked my batteries, and slid into the photo pit in time for Jax, a 27 year old singer/songwriter from New Jersey who cut her teeth in the pop industry on “American Idol” and as of late, has blown up on TikTok.

She bounced onto the stage wearing a ‘90s-inspired tracksuit, giant black platform boots from Hot Topic, and a blonde ponytail with a life of its own. Her songs range from the joys of babysitting and mentorship, slaying ex-boyfriends, and to finding new love. One of my favorite photos that I captured was of Jax and her guitarist, singing back to back, the Forrest Gump and Bubba of power pop. Even her stage banter was wicked fun. But the highlight came when she brought her performance down into the audience. Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to Michael, a 24-year-old from Boston with a sign that read "I want to sing Victoria's Secret with You!" She sauntered off the stage towards him and together, her and Michael, who had retro Happy Day’s glasses, sang into the mic her hit song, “Victoria’s Secret.” A 21c pop anthem that criticizes the company and its concept of beauty.

When I caught up with Michael afterwards he was shaking with joy. Elated. When I asked him why he loved Jax he said, “Because she is so body positive and I just love her genre." Modern pop isn’t typically my go to style of music or genre, but having this new experience lifted my spirits in a way I didn’t expect and I was only one band in, needless to say, I was excited to see MAX perform next.

Named a “top popstar to watch” by Billboard magazine, MAX models, acts, and collaborates with K-pop stars like BTS's Suga. He's been on hit Nickelodeon TV shows and movies and recently headlined Seoul Jazz Festival in South Korea. As the roadies plugged in the final XLR chords, the giant screen at the back of the stage lit up in yellow with black MAX lettering. Like a magnet, the barricade attracted so many wiggling fans, including myself. Through the eye of my lens, I could see that every step he took across the stage was deliberate, as if he was savoring the energy of the moment. His outfit was incredibly stylish and his smile was the epitome of charming. He was decked out in bright orange pants, an abstract Rothko-esque tricolored nylon top that hugged at his biceps, white kicks, and black crescent moon shaped glasses. Within seconds of arriving at the center of the stage, he leapt into his first pop song. I knew that he was going to be an energetic performer, but wow, my shutter speed could not keep up with him! He was high kicking, spinning, jumping, dancing, all while maintaining a focused vocal range, pitch and tone.

Many of the songs on his forthcoming studio album, spread a message of being true to who you are, wearing what you want, loving who you want, and creating a safe space where everyone can feel accepted. The heartfelt anthem, "Lights Down Low," was his breakout hit, garnering millions of streams and, according to Yahoo News, has become a universal expression of love.

MAX says that he wrote ‘Lights Down Low’ soon after he began dating a woman named Emily. “And I knew I was just gonna write a song that I wanted for her,” he confesses. “I just wanted to dedicate something to her. I just knew she was it, and I knew I was gonna marry her. It was wild. I just literally knew.”
In fact, he proposed to her by singing it.

Love takes center stage in every aspect of his artistry. From his heartfelt lyrics to his electrifying performance and genuine dedication to connecting with his fans. At the end of his set, he announced that he would be at the merch booth signing autographs. In my experience, when a band makes this promise, it is met with a laissez faire audience response, but not here. Within seconds, young people were flying towards the merch booth.

The line formed screaming fast, extending almost back to the stage and I was floored by how quickly Max appeared. Within seconds of announcing the autograph session, he magically jumped onto the merch table, waving to his adoring fans. After a quick towel off, (he was dripping with sweat), he began signing autographs one by one. I stood in line with his fans, giddy as hell. The excitement to see a pop star up close is adrenalizing. Being amongst the hoards of happy fans made me feel so young, carefree, and alive. It’s wild how cute boys, energetic music, and new friends can have this effect.

As I made my way back towards the stage to prepare for the headline performance, MAX and two bodyguards zoomed past me with a trail of excited girls in hot pursuit. It was a sight to behold.

I had no idea what to expect when getting ready for Big Time Rush (BTR). When the venue went dark and spotlights beamed down onto an LED paneled platform, silhouettes of the singers wearing matching outfits gradually ascended from beneath the stage. That’s when I knew I was in for a boy band ride.

In a “Star Trek”-like formation, they stood together, beaming with gratitude, the crowd’s anticipation mounting like the Second Coming. I zoomed in to get a closer look at the guy and was sucked in by Logan Henderson's celestial dimples. Swoon. A hot boy serenade is enough to send you to the moon!

With the drop of the booming beat, the band exploded into a choreographed dance, and when the smoke machine blew off, I climaxed. The combination of documenting such an fun performance with my camera, the unbridled energy of the fans, and my proximity to the band, made me positively euphoric. I let go and screamed full-throated my M***&^% face off. Who cares if I broke professional photographer protocol? It was absolutely cathartic to break into a new phase of love with such abandon.I was a teenager again screaming in support of love and possibilities. And, let’s be real, for hot guys singing to me! From dance rock hits to ballads, BTR covered the spectrum of love songs. I’m no expert on boy band culture, but in my opinion the band lived up to tradition and expectations. I mean, everyone was simply sublime.

After a few songs in the pit, I made my way to the back of the amphitheater where lasers painted the night sky. I watched from afar a group of young people twirling to the show. It was as if the music had unlocked a hidden door for me, one that I haven’t walked through in years; where inside, innocence and open hearts dance freely.

I fully acknowledge that I experienced this show through bubblegum-colored glasses, but we all know that the dark night of the soul through heartbreak is intense. So to have this new feeling felt dizzying. And The energy exchange between bands and fans was a rejuvenating reminder that love is meant to be playful, naive, and downright fun.
With renewed enthusiasm, a newly thawed heart, and a reaffirmed belief in the power of music, I took a sizable, if trepidatious step forward to join the dancers, eager to embrace the potential of falling in love again, just like the kids these days.

Special thanks to Danny Schneider, Nicole Rosiak and Jessica Peterson and to all the musicians in this episode for making music that lifts us up to where we belong.
For more rockumentary podcasts exploring concert culture, listen and subscribe to Concert Cast on Itunes or wherever you listen to podcasts.

]]><![CDATA[A paradox wrapped in magic: My backstage tour at the Grand Ole Opry]]>Wed, 07 Dec 2022 08:00:00 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/a-paradox-wrapped-in-magic-my-backstage-tour-at-the-grand-ole-opry

It was a small group of us that signed up for a backstage tour at the Grand Ole Opry, all from somewhere else, Idaho, Colorado, Maine yet unified in our curiosity. However, during my tour, I’m faced with a podcast conundrum: Do these backstage experiences take away the magic, or enhance it and I’m left second guessing my own podcast about concert culture. But when I embrace the spirit of a tourist, it allows me to move past my overthinking and discover that the most magical takeaway is my own personal history with the venue.

At 4 pm sharp electronic doors opened, (think haunted house at the Magic Kingdom), and we were ushered into a very lavish living room. Much like the haunted house ride at Disney World, we're surrounded by picture frames on a digital carousel, swapping out photos of music legends every 10 seconds or so. I took a seat and within minutes, a 3D version of Garth Brooks and his wife, Trisha Yearwood appeared. This was not a video, not a hologram, but the in between version of hologram and standard video projection. They dove into history of the Opry with carefully edited clips assembled to pull at the heartstrings. The music, the choreographed lights and the script were so emotional, I was both moved by the history of live music and also the production value.

But in the same moment it felt like I was being force fed the importance of the venue. I had already bitten the lure and was on the line. I could see the value of a sparkly marketing piece to attract me, but they already had me onboard. Over done or was I already overthinking? After the emotional lubricant was applied, came the tour. Another set of animatronic doors swung open and we were now in the lobby of the theater watching... more videos. If the first video didn’t impress the importance of what we were about to do, this video made sure to do that for us. Then we were ushered by a very perky guide with perfected punchlines and an even perkier rhinestone belt.

And you know, that is one reason why I enjoy these kinds of tours. They are bottled up and packaged just right. Homogenized and safe. Embracing experiences designed for tourists allows me to not think too hard, rather just go with the flow. However, I indulged in considering my own podcast paradox. Concert Cast was created to evoke deeper feelings of concert culture by talking to people at the heart of the industry, or, like the backstage tour does, to lift the veil on magic. The inquisitive nature of Concert Cast and heartfelt curiosity, like this backstage tour, is what keeps me producing. But now I have something new to consider: where should the curtain fall?

We walked through another set of doors and were officially backstage. The lighting was more sterile, and the ceilings so high you could barely see the top. Some stagehands were pacing, waiting for musicians and I wonder if they feel like animals in a cage when tourists come through.

We turn a corner and are ushered into a TV studio where Hee Haw, a country-themed television variety show was filmed and where new TV specials are now too. There was a huge drop screen and a balcony for a TV audience along with lighting rigs and tresses. And then, you guessed it, another video explaining the importance of the room. From there we were ushered into the dressing room area which felt like the lobby at an office complex, complete with a guard behind a desk checking IDs. What caught my eye was a little post office where members of the Opry receive fan mail. There were the plaques of all the country stars and so many great pictures. We walked down a long hallway as the guide explained to us how each dressing room is designed differently, and mentioned musicians who prefer which room and why. (By the way, Dolly Parton loves the purple themed room with crystals.)

Each room had its own vibe and decor with a multitude of colors and patterns. And they were super clean and appeared barely used. Honestly, they felt more like a hotel room and I was a little disappointed they didn’t have more marks of the musicians who used them as sanctuary before a show. There was no sign of grit, no sign of a story.

From years of interviewing bands backstage at venues, there really is a sense of magic in the walls, but the backstage area here felt superimposed. I was fascinated by the mystery of what they were covering up. What party stains did a cleaner spend hours removing? What is the real narrative of the venue? If country music is known for antics, these backstage areas felt a bit too polished. When I asked the perky guide with a rhinestone belt about any shenanigans, she had a bottled answer that I am sure is partly true; the artists are on their best behavior because they want to be invited back. Now the backstage area held a narrative of privilege and success – and reverence like a place of worship.

She then showed us the main lounge area where The Archie Campbell Mural was the centerpiece. The painting was drawn in 1966 for the cover of a souvenir book and then installed as a mural in 1981. The image depicts a night at the Opry where a bunch of cartoon characters, similar to a Where’s Waldo setup, are dancing all over the stage and having their own little life. This mural was the only relic that truly showed character of the backstage area because there was no sheen, and the guide explained how it was water stained from the 2010 flood. That detail, more than anything else she shared, grabbed my attention. The waterline was about 4 feet off the ground indicating that the stage upon which we were about to walk was once underwater. Bouncing back from that disaster is a true testament to the power of this place and its people. And that it is memorialized in a mural depicting joyful cartoon characters is unexpected. This was the realness that I was looking for and aim to tell in Concert Cast episodes. The challenges that a venue or artist endures is where the story starts and that shared, human condition is what I love about podcasting. The magic is in the story - the real story.

As we walk towards the stage and turn a small corner, we are met with a massive auditorium filled with rows of cushioned church pews. And while we are not performers, I think we all understood the wow factor musicians feel as they step onto the stage and take in the majestic scene. Now I get what Garth and Trisha shared in their moving welcome video.

Blocked off sections of instrumentation on stage hinted of a museum, less the do not touch signs, and then we were, at long last, steps away from the infamous “circle” that was explained to us ad nauseam in the videos. This 4X4 circle is where so many artists stood at the Ryman, the former home of the Opry, and then they moved this patch of wood to the current location in the 70’s. There is a stark difference between the circle and the stage. This and the cartoon mural were the only elements in the house that showed its age. The wood grain in the circle was light and weathered, like a high school gym beaten down by years of basketball playing, the history of the piece of wood dazzled in the lights. It’s funny how we make regular objects into metaphors, projecting our own wishes, hopes and dreams onto something that has no heartbeat. But it is this that makes the live music experience so fascinating to me, imagining all the people that once stood in our shoes and will stand there once again. Venues are mythological, and we personify the building to better connect. But again, this is a contradiction of live music venues, because to many people, venues are considered just a building, there is no mystery or magic about it.

While on stage, I did feel like an imposter, there is a sense of getting too close to the magic, and, like the static electricity of being shocked back into reality. Do these tours take away the magic, or enhance it? As a podcaster who is inspired by moments like these - I do penetrate the 4th wall by taking listeners behind the scenes and sharing the realness of being backstage before a performer goes on. Because to me, the magic is in the mundane but it is also in the mystery of what goes on backstage.

But on a tour like this where we feel like we are at a zoo or museum, it can feel like sacrilege or something, cheapening the experience. However, for many, it will be what they tell their friends about when sharing travel stories about Nashville. I am not a musician, so I did not feel worthy to stand in the circle. But I stepped inside to absorb the creativity; the collective feeling of humans longing for a moment to be seen and heard, and to share their passion. After a stop at the gift shop and dinner in Opryland, I'm back in my pew for the show.

More videos played on the monstrous big screens, driving home the history of this place but this time, it was out of context and unnecessary. The videos hijacked our imagination, replacing it with their own narrative. Concerts are subjective and showing too many videos that curate a feeling aren’t fair to people who want to experience things on their own terms. A bit deflated and with no real choice, I sunk into the videos and waited for the music.

The Opry is a long-standing radio performance, so the host comes out to introduce each band and then in between their acts, which are only 3 songs or so each, stagehands come out to reconfigure the set up for the next band. That was super cool to watch. And I love how the entire night was like scanning the radio, where different genres of country were heard, and before you know it, you were onto the next band. It was definitely a great experience in this day and age of short attention spans.

But the real magical part of the night for me was knowing that my parents once sat in the audience, back in the 90’s when both Clint Black and Garth Brooks performed on the same night. Sitting on the pews, transported me through time. I love that venues are a connective thread across generations and l got lost thinking of my mom and dad, being here together at my age enjoying music. Like an apparition going back in time, my mind's eye watched as they walked through the door, found their row and then watched the musicians step onto the stage for their moment in the circle. This unexplainable feeling is enchanting. The feeling of unity and togetherness is hypnotic, it moves, it breathes, it is invisible. When I left the venue, my system felt shocked, not by the bitter Tennessee winter air, but by a mini revelation of how cynical I can be. People enjoy the backstage tour and, truly, so did I. There is a reason that 20 of them run daily.

The joy of being a tourist, letting go and being swept up in the lore is to be open and curious, and that is also what I aim to offer through Concert Cast. To talk with people who live and breathe live music. Sharing stories and reflections doesn’t demystify, rather it makes a connection and brings the listener inside the magic. I think that works when the story revealed is real and not pasteurized for preservation.

]]><![CDATA[Concert in a Cave]]>Wed, 27 Apr 2022 15:48:01 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/concert-in-a-caveMoonshine, mushrooms and a mythical night of music.

I’m on my way to see a concert in a cave, at a venue called, The Caverns. The celestial beauty of my drive down dark switch back canyon roads in Pelham, Tennessee felt like a nocturnal migration to a sacred gathering place. My car was practically on autopilot, destination: possibility.
Once I turned onto Charlie Roberts road, there were graveyards, trailers and old Pontiac Grand Ams. Horses living on small farms were illuminated by headlights as they noshed on their evening hay. I was definitely in the country and already inside an unforgettable experience upon arrival.
When I pulled into the lot, I was greeted by a local in a Carhartt coveralls, bundled up against the cold. His accent was thick as syrup as he directed me to park in the row of trucks. When I got out, there were two people sitting in the bed of their truck discussing the dosage amount for their mushroom trip. As for me, I didn’t need any substances that night - I was riding high from being one step closer to making my music venue dreams come true!

I grabbed my jacket but knew I wouldn't need much layering. Between my surging adrenaline, all the dancing that was about to go down, and the cave’s constant temperature of 55, I bared the short, cold walk towards a blazing fire that signaled the start of the line to enter the venue.
Standing in line by the roaring campfire, people checked our bags and scanned our tickets. I walked by tour buses parked next to barns and was drawn to the cave’s entrance lit up in neon pinks and purples.

A man in overalls strolled by me, mumbling something about moonshine. The slope into the mouth of the cave was gradual but the momentum of anticipation and the buildup of the journey swept me up and practically carried me inside. The cave was just on the other side of a curved doorway. It was a bright chalky room, super expansive and boundless. I walked by the merch table, where a very long line of people were waiting to purchase a custom made poster to commemorate the night.

Like everyone else in the cave, I’m looking around, mouth agape. Like where am I? If you have ever been to Red Rocks, this place felt like an inverted version, but more homestyle and way less stairs. Easy conversation is made along the railing, naturally talking about the venue and other common travel talk topics; it feels communal. Before long, I notice out of the corner of my eye that the band is lining up, instruments in hand, waiting to be escorted on the stage. …
Once 8pm hits, Railroad Earth plugs in and plays a new song titled, “Bird in a House”
Just another bird in the house / trying to get out / I want to join my own kind that's all.

We were all at that time, birds in the cave, but not wanting to get out. Hunkering down for a bit, fluttering with joy to be inside such a unique experience. The temperature was comfortable and the sound quality was too. I had wondered if the cave would swallow the sound or provide an opportunity for echo, but I was happy with no obvious sonic annoyances. John Skehan, the mandolinist, played on, and I rode the rail for a bit. After the 3rd or 4th song, I began my orbit around the venue to experience the different pockets of people's energy.

There was a lot of room to dance and I had a great time saddling up next to the lighting designer who was so full of creativity, bouncing around behind the console like a DJ. But rather than playing music, he was playing the lights. Spinning and toggling and moving dials to orchestrate lights with the music. Blues, yellows, whites, patterns, lasers, they were all dancing on the cave walls, and because the ceilings were rather low, it felt like I was under a blanket of lights.

I eventually danced my way out of the cave back to my car and back down those dark country roads, onto the highway and back into the city. My first foray into a subterranean venue was unforgettable and I’d like to make it a stop on my seasonal migration across the country.
Naturally, now that I’ve seen a concert in a cave, I’m stoked to record a podcast in a cave. I want to know about the venue’s backstory, the geology…so many why’s and hows! This was one of the coolest live music experiences I have had and sharing a full on audio immersion with you would be just as cool. If you know the area, give me a shout with intel!

]]><![CDATA[Tik Tok Live: Where is the music?]]>Mon, 07 Feb 2022 20:05:15 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/tik-tok-live-where-is-the-music

TikTok is a cultural nexus for discovering new music, so why is is TikTok LIVE so weird?

Snowed in and snuggled up, I scroll through TikTok. I love discovering new music, watching duets, laughing at videos that are so relatable, listening to music critics talk about albums and, yes, I have even bought makeup because of a tutorial. The algorithm has pinpointed my interests and has done a great job at keeping me online, dare I say, for hours at a time. But before I know it, I’m pulled into a TikTok LIVE, and find myself in a blizzard of the bizarre, a parallel universe.

From ASMR, to people sitting on their phone eating, random games involving ping pong balls, sloppy karaoke, tarot card readings, deformed humans staring listlessly into the camera, the list of weird goes on. My Reddit search on “Why is TikTok LIVE so different from the TikTok FYP” found no answers either. Just similar complaints.

Even more so, when it comes to music, why does TTL, for the most part, feel like a surface level open mic night where the majority of musicians are more concerned about their appearance or reading comments that are about themselves? Where are all the touring bands?

TikTok is a cultural nexus that has changed the way we listen to music and has upended the industry. Recent news of a new pop group arising from a TikTok hashtag challenge underscores the platform’s power in music. The videos on my FYP page are innovative and fun but on TikTok LIVE it’s the polar opposite for music; a creative chasm - what gives? At the height of pandemic, I, along with over 2 million streamers, watched The Weekend perform as an avatar for a TikTok LIVE concert and at that point, I was on board with the platform being a creative tool for musicians. And since that avatar concert, there have been a plethora of polished performances by pop music's biggest names where the production value, albeit vertical, is as dialed as the Grammy’s. And even during the onset of Corona, artists gravitated to the platform like crazy because it offered a cool chance to directly connect with the audience. But now that live shows have come back, there is a music void on TikTok LIVE. Is the answer simply - the lack of energy exchange and that the TTL platform diminishes the art? And is our attention span too short to watch musicians on TikTok LIVE?

Now that we have had time to allow the LIVE experience to percolate into our music experience, for me, I enjoy LIVE’s when fans are recognized; it is an elevated form of connecting. When your favorite artist actually says your name, answers your questions, plays your favorite song, you feel seen and heard. At an in-person live concert, you can only pretend the lead singer looked at you and smiled.

And while TTL will never replace the buzz and thrum of being at a live concert, is there an opportunity for musicians, amateur and professional alike, to create a balance on TTL? Or is it just a waste of time because the algorithms are in charge? Tech Crunch posted in December that TikTok is testing new desktop streaming software, opening the doors for new ways for creators to engage with their fans. So far the software (TikTok LIVE Studio) looks to be geared for gamers, but the beta app has me optimistic that it can be used for musicians as well.
Hint: stream a past concert and break down the performance.

For now, I will continue to leave the comfort of my FYP and periodically scroll through TikTok LIVE in hopes of connecting deeper with concert culture.

]]><![CDATA[LA LIGHT]]>Thu, 27 May 2021 23:05:33 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/la-light

After I wrapped on a video production in LA, I masked up and explored. I was in town producing a promotional video for Samsung on Matador Network to support the Galaxy S21 Ultra (watch here). I had never been to Downtown LA before and while I was pandemic-hesitant to leave the hotel, my curiosity won over my fear.

When it comes to exploring a new place, especially solo, there is an indescribable force of energy that takes over. I feel as if there is a magnet within me, and something exciting is pulling at me. The force took me from the 29th floor at the Westin Hotel, down to Flower Street. It was about 2 o’clock on a sunny Sunday and, at first, I was really weirded out by seeing everyone in masks, but with each block it became less strange and clearly requisite.

I turned onto the jewelry district and was window shopping, not for giant diamonds, but rather for the reactions from people dazzling inside who were trying on rings and necklaces. Even masked, seeing people light up when trying on expensive jewelry is way more fun. From the jewelry district, I turned onto the theatre district and was enamored by the beautiful art deco venues, although weathered and shabby, they were radiating; the marquees were a thing of beauty.

And then, I was jolted out of my gaze by jazz music. At first I thought it was coming from a store and then the closer I got to the source, I realized that it was being performed by actual musicians. Not those within a protective live stream, but the real life kind of the before time. My internal magnet had found its attraction…live music.

The piccolo trumpeter and the accompanying violinist were playing in front of il caffè ’ located on Broadway. And even though we were in the shadow of the eastern Columbia lofts building, the pièce de résistance of LA architecture, the musicians were beaming and I felt re-awakened to the joy of travel surprises like these.

At that moment, I was caught between the feeling of jubilation and also prohibition. For a year, this entire experience of enjoying music in public has been forbidden. My smile was as zestful as the orange juice I was sipping. It was like putting my toe back into the pool of music and culture. Frankly, I really wanted to rock a cannon ball right in the middle of the cafe!

After my moment of music zen, I continued exploring, meandering through different districts, and as the sun began to set, I finished my trip at Pershing Square Park, where the purple bell tower transfixed me with its illusory angles. COVID may have stunted LA’s cultural renaissance and put it in the headlines as a hot spot, but for this east coast girl, LA is where I saw the light spill through the cracks and where I felt my musical compass spin once again.

]]><![CDATA[Trains & Tunes]]>Fri, 30 Apr 2021 19:49:29 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/trains-tunes

Riding the Amtrak Pacific Surfliner in CA 2020

With my Walkman in one hand and my train ticket in another, I ran down the track as fast as I could. My backpack was shuffling from side to side and my headphones were tangling my hair into a wad of wire, but I didn’t care and it didn't matter. Despite my best efforts, I missed the train. It was dusk and, besides the cluster of pigeons, I was the only one on the track. And to be honest, I didn’t quite know where I was; somewhere on the Bordeaux coast of France. I walked back up to the booth and the attendant told me in half French and half English how the next train to Barcelona wasn't arriving until the morning. I was in a town that I had not planned for and it was both scary and exhilarating. Being my first backpacking trip around Europe, I had only read about these unexpected moments, the ones where how you react reveals what kind of traveler you are.

There was no one to help me, but me. It was 2011 so cell phones were not a travel tool at this point; I had a tattered map and my Lonely Planet guidebook. The town was very dark. I had no idea where I was or, really, who I was at that age, but I knew that I had to keep walking.

Navigating dark streets in search of the hostel was its own type of adventure and when they said it was full, I felt gut-punched. I was directed to a nearby hotel that had 1 star from LP and I didn’t care. I entered the room and practically passed out with my backpack on. When I woke up, the sun was shining through the most colorful panes of stained glass; a welcoming sign that I was going to be ok. I recalculated my Euro points, got a strong cup of espresso and was early for the morning train. When I walked down the same stairs and onto the same track I had been on just hours before, I was not the same tangled girl. I was now a traveler who reveled in the unexpected.

I jumped onto the train and pushed play on my Walkman. I journeyed up the coast of France into Spain. What started out as a summer backpacking trip turned into a year and a half of living abroad. From rolling fields in Germany to the coast of Spain and whizzing through people's backyards in Austria; I loved sleeping in bunks with strangers who, with the help of booze and card games, became travel friends. Watching a full moon dip in and out of mountaintops from the window of my sleeper car as we crossed into Croatia and then waking up to border patrol banging at my door demanding to see my passport was exhilarating. Every time I stepped onto a train, I knew something interesting was going to happen, and even though I was traveling solo - everywhere I went - my Walkman was with me.

Prior to leaving on my Euro trip, I burned about 30 CDs ranging from Bob Dylan to Tupac. I put them in a blue CD wallet and depending on the mood, flipping through my scribble of titles, I would choose the moment’s tune. My go to was always STS9 (Sound Tribe Sector 9), an electro jazz band from Santa Cruz whom I first fell for in college; and they are the only band I have roadtripped all over the country for. From Maine to New Mexico and all the way to Red Rocks, I have seen them close to 90 times. I guess you could say they're my closest and most consistent travel companions. Their album "Artifact" is a musical journey that is spiritual and uplifting and, for some reason, always seems to match the way I feel when traveling.

When I was on a train traveling up the coast of Vietnam, Artifact played and this time not on a skipping CD but a digital album on my phone. That train trip was so cool because of how different the culture is there. We traveled through lush jungles, stopping in small towns where locals would sell us food and coffee through the windows. I took a sleeper car one night and when I arrived in Hanoi, it was dawn. I wandered the streets and with every step fell in love with the city. Watching shop owners sweeping was poetic to me, and so was a woman performing tai chi - it was so peaceful, I cried.

As I write this Field Note from my spacious Pacific Surfliner Amtrak train car, in part due to the pandemic and also in part because I'm almost at the end of the line, STS9 is playing. From my window I see kids jumping along the surf, silhouetted by the setting sun, and while Sound Tribe’s song “Somesing” bursts through my headphones like rays of light, my love for train trips and all the correlating memories are ablaze. While in quarantine for so long, the memories were repressed and the feeling of going anywhere started to feel impossible. But tonight, I feel reinvigorated and my wanderlust to see more by train has been activated.

Sound Tribe hits differently the older I get, but when I listen to them while riding a train, I always feel young. I feel like that girl running down the track - running to find herself.

STS9 at the El Ray in Albuquerque, NM

]]><![CDATA[Spark of Wonder]]>Wed, 10 Mar 2021 20:36:02 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/spark-of-wonder

Lawrence Ferlinghetti outside his San Francisco store in 1998. PHOTO: REUTERS

The spark of an idea is a mysterious yet wondrous thing and how that spark can feel like a supernova, generating the power to begin a creative journey is a true gift. The irony is that the moment of occurrence can be quickly left behind in favor of the concept. And oftentimes, it takes an external event years later, to remind you of that spark.

For Charley Ryan, Co-Owner of Brooklyn Bowl and guest from EP 04 it was, sadly, the February 22 death of 101 year old Lawrence Ferlinghetti that reminded Ryan of the moment when the design idea for the Brooklyn Bowl came to him. (Ferlinghetti is the famed writer and co-founder of the of the iconic City Lights Booksellers and Publishers.) Ryan, like many across the internet, was inspired to share his connection to Ferlinghetti and the source of his spark. With his blessing, I share an excerpt from Ryan’s text.

“When I arrived in SF in '72, I stayed in a grotty little basement room at my aunt's house on Funston, near Golden Gate Park. Within a couple of days I made my pilgrimage to North Beach and City Lights. It was a quiet evening in the store; almost no one else was in there.

But a man with an older woman I took to be his aunt or maybe even his mother was there, and he was pointing out notable works to her. It was Allen Ginsberg! I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. Even then I thought to myself, "There's no way he comes here very often." But there he was, a wonderful omen as far as I could see.

About 36 years later I was struggling with what might be our design theme at Brooklyn Bowl. Everything I'd come up with seemed clumsy or arbitrary or both. I felt the same (or even worse) about others suggestions.  I came home one night and, without knowing why, walked over to a bookcase and randomly pulled out a slim volume. My hand chose a copy of Ferlinghetti's most famous work, A Coney Island of the Mind, that I'd purchased that long-ago night in his store and somehow still possessed.

This collection of poems evokes the tattered, soulful, past its prime glory of the old amusement park and carnival grounds. I looked it over for a couple of minutes before the obvious dawned on me: Coney Island is Brooklyn. We are Brooklyn Bowl. We can grab the rich iconography and visceral hustle of the carnival, even though Coney's at the other end of Brooklyn. An astounding slice of Americana. Eureka!
RIP, Lawrence. Thanks for the help, and especially the delivery of good omens.”

Some ponder that his gloomy tone in, "A Coney Island of the Mind" gives a glimpse into Ferlinghetti's state of mind, and perhaps it does, but I found a spark of hope in the pages. I had never heard of this book of poems so I started with his most famous, “I Am Waiting” and was surprised to read it was less about Coney Island motifs, and more about “perpetually awaiting a rebirth of wonder.”

I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

At a time when all of us are waiting for the rebirth of live music, Ryan’s story serves as a reminder to trust the spark and honor the people who create the source of inspiration, like a chain reaction, it is a gift that keeps on giving. Brooklyn Bowl is a full on sensory experience and now we can thank both Ryan and Ferlinghetti for creating a space that sparks wonder and will soon reignite our souls. Rest in peace Lawrence; we are overdue for a “long careless rapture” and will embrace it in your honor.

Listen to Charley Ryan's Concert Cast Episode Here

]]><![CDATA[ANGELIKAH HAS ENTERED THE WAITING ROOM...]]>Mon, 18 Jan 2021 23:31:29 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/angelikah-has-entered-the-waiting-room

I was so nervous while I waited for Angelikah. This was, after all, my first ever interview over Zoom and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. After what felt like 45 minutes of meticulously placing items around my head so that my laptop camera could present personality, she emails to say the link is broken! Great start to your first Zoom interview, Kyle! While my clammy hands emailed her an updated link, I forced myself to take a deep breath. And had to remind myself she might be nervous to meet me too; we are, after all, strangers meeting over a strange technology because of a pandemic. All of it is just strange.

ANGELIKAH FINALLY ENTERS
I was put at ease with her friendly smile. The perk about Zoom is the window in which we see each other. There is focus, there is vulnerability, there is sustained eye contact unlike a normal interview backstage ripe with distractions and hubris, especially after a fabulous performance. Yes, a Zoom interview lacks the energy exchange of being in person, but I was grateful to have an instant option while in isolation to process a recent performance of hers at an empty State Theatre and learn more about this emerging artist. I couldn’t take my eyes off her and before long, we created a virtual bond.

For the past 10 years I have traveled to venues and interviewed bands, fans and music business professionals for a web series I created right after college. The settings of my interviews ranged from sitting on a tiny stage in Brooklyn with a band called Phantogram, to a dank basement at the Mercury Lounge in NYC with a band called, Wave Machines, to walking along the streets of Amsterdam with Keller Williams before his show at Melkweg, to interviewing Queen Ifrica under a tent in Jamaica for the annual Rebel Salute Reggae Festival. These interviews were super fun, very DIY (some might say cheesy), yet through it all there is genuine passion for talking to bands and sharing stories about live music.

In all my years of interviewing bands and live music professionals, I never once had one digitally, let alone about such a brooding subject (interviews are typically happy feature pieces), so I was somewhat paralyzed- but my desire to listen to people share their point of view, grew stronger. Turmoil reveals truth and ushers in change and so fortunately with Zoom, from the Coast of Maine, I could try and help document their thoughts and share mine too within 20 minute podcast episodes. If everyone else can adapt, so can Concert Cast.

Despite COVID, Concert Culture is still actively generating incredible stories. My Zoom interviews in Season 2 (plus two socially-distant interviews) are not about commiserating but rather proving that connections can still be made and we are all on an accelerated path forward.

AMPLIFIED APPRECIATION
Speaking of acceleration, when I produced Concert Cast Season 1 it was my way of cherishing music venues and their importance to a shared concert experience. Concert Cast celebrates my love for music venues and shines a light on the people behind the scenes that make live music happen. Little did I know that as soon as I released it it would become instant nostalgia and that, unfortunately, a pandemic has shown the value of venues to our society. As they say, you don’t know how important something is until it is gone.

I can't wait to get back to interviewing fans and bands in the heat of the moment at a live show; we can agree there is an energy there that Zoom will never capture. But for now, I’ll be patient and Concert Cast, like the rest of the music industry will continue to adapt to bring you the stories of the Concert Culture warriors and musicians inspired by everything happening today. When we get to the other side, our venues will be stronger than ever and we’ll all return the favor with amplified appreciation.

Listen to Angelikah's Concert Cast Episode Here

]]><![CDATA[Entry: 01 Choose your Own Adventure]]>Thu, 08 Oct 2020 07:00:00 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/entry-01-choose-your-own-adventure

Where to begin? Now that you’ve discovered Concert Cast the Podcast, it’s up to you to wind your way through the episodes. Concert Cast was produced as a linear experience, but episodes can also be listened to in any order. Perhaps by topics that resonate most. If concerts are your compass and venues are the destination, consider this your field guide to uncovering Concert Cast episode by episode; experience by experience. Now, go forth and choose your own adventure in listening…here are a few entry points into Maine’s music scene.

If you love DISCOVERING A NEW BAND, listen to:
Episode 6: All Roads Music Festival

Walking and talking with the festival promoter and co-creator, Meg Shorette, I learned a lot about her process of transforming historical buildings into pop-up music venues for the night. One of the venues is a historic movie theatre called, “The Colonial". When I walked in, the smell of popcorn permeated the air, and concertgoers were milling around trying to decide which band to check out. I heard a siren-like voice coming from downstairs, and I followed it. The music guided me through a series of lower-level passages, which led to a subterranean movie theatre turned concert stage. I found a spot in the back and got lost in the dizzying sounds of Portland based singer Katie Matzell, who was singing “Better Late than Never,” a new age jazz song. I had never heard of her before, but I was an instant fan. I love those kinds of moments - discovering new music live and on the spot.

If you like HEARING ABOUT THE CREATIVE PROCESS, listen to:
Episode 13: Northern Maine with Ben Cosgrove

Going into my interview with Ben Cosgrove, I was admittedly really confused by his music. His artist statement says that he makes “instrumental music that explores themes of landscape, geography, and environment and straddles a line between folk and classical music.” What does that even mean? And how does he get there? I felt that, in order to really get a sense of his style, it was best to go to the source of his inspo: nature - so we went for a walk through the snow in Stockholm before his show at Eureka Hall - Maine’s most remote music venue. To get to the core of his process, I had to ask a series of questions, and then, it finally clicked. Now, when listening to his music, especially the song SALT, I know exactly what he means and can use my own metaphors and stories to make it come to life.

If Covid has you CRAVING A ROAD TRIP Listen to:
Mini-Casts: 3,4, & 5: Travel Tales with Jon Fishman Of PHISH

It brought the biggest smile to my face to hear how the legendary Jon Fishman talked about being a long haul truck driver as a fallback career to drumming. He even once considered being a taxi cab driver! And to say that Fishman is a road trip warrior is an understatement. In the early days when the band toured around the country in a van, Fishman was always the “DD” - the driver and the road DJ! As a podcast host, listening to his road trip stories from earlier days with the band was just as fun as hearing him talking about playing at Madison Square Garden. But surprisingly, it’s the silence in between venues, when there is nothing to talk about, when you need a break from sound, that was also one of our most interesting conversations. It was also fun to hear him tell the story of finding the most epic Mexican restaurant one night after a show in the midwest! Our conversation was filled with awesome moments like this - and his stories were a great reminder to why we all love road tripping - the unexpected!

If you like MUSIC VENUES AND HISTORY, listen to:
Episode 1: State Theater Portland, Maine

To me, every venue has a voice, including a special history - and researching the State Theatre in Portland , Maine became a jaunt through years past. I mean, it was once a porn theatre! Then I got to speak with Lauren Wayne for the first episode of what would become my baby, my podcast. I met up with The musical high priestess of Portland, Maine who took me on a daytime tour of the venue to tell me more about some of the history, operational logistics and of course, stories including the one about the very firs performance she hosted after a major renovation was complete. The jam band called MOE. was playing and the fire alarm went off! Can you imagine having to evacuate the building on the first night? Luckily, the guests were allowed back in once they cleared up the commotion, and now the venue has another story to tell!

]]><![CDATA[Entry:02 Kick it into Cruise Control]]>Tue, 06 Oct 2020 21:18:34 GMThttp://concertcast.live/field-notes/entry-02-kick-it-into-cruise-control

Continuing on the theme of discovering Concert Cast the Podcast, I’d love to take you through another collection of episodes visiting the four vistas of concert culture: the creative process, venue history, live music and roadtripping. Concert Cast was produced as a linear experience, but episodes can also be listened to in any order. Perhaps by topics that resonate most. If concerts are your compass and venues are the destination, consider this your field guide to uncovering Concert Cast episode by episode; experience by experience.
Now, let’s continue our adventure together...

If you love Discovering New Music - then listen to:
Episode 2 & 3: Jon Fishman talks about memorable performances and being a radio DJ

The red On Air Sign was glowing when I walked into the radio booth at WBFY 100.9 Community Radio Station in Belfast, Maine. Jon Fishman was sitting on a wing backed leather office chair which was tearing at the seams, talking about a Stevie Wonder Song he played and then riffing on it… The show is called The Errant Path, and it relates to his DJ style of meandering around the music and finding interesting connections between songs or musicians. He has been a music aficionado since high school, was even a DJ at Goddard College in Vermont, he just loves following connections and careers of musicians. This episode will make you listen to music in a new way and inspire you to invest more time in knowing the people behind the instruments.

If you love The Creative Process the listen to:
Episode 15: The Ghost of Paul Revere

Getting to hang out in the green room with The Ghost of Paul Revere before they took the stage sounds glamorous, until you hear that the green room is actually the daycare of the ski school! Everything was pint size! But it made do for the purpose a green room serves, to chill out and get into headspace before performing. I was able to get a cross section of points of views from their manager, sound engineer and from all band mates, but I was so curious about Griffin's song writing process. Considering Maine is a state that you have to drive everywhere to get somewhere, I wanted to know if he came up with songs while driving?
Griffin: My voice memos on my iPhone is like just full of half-baked ideas or like things like like how to just get down. And like Tom Waits spoke on that very well. As as Tom Waits speaks on most things very well, he was talking about how if a song pops in your head and you'd like, it's your duty to pull over immediately and capture that moment because it's fleeting and it'll it'll disappear and it might be the greatest thing you've ever thought of and I very much agree. Like it comes in waves for sure.”
Being at a live show, belting out their songs in unison is a wonderful experience, to know that they were written on the side of a road in the middle of Maine is even better. Listen to this episode for more thoughts from Griffin on music venues and touring.

If You love Venues & History - then listen to:
Episode 7: Ellsworth Feat. Fogtown

Stepping into Fogtown Brewing Company in Downtown Ellsworth for a beer and some music, you can sense that this was “once something else.” The building is huge, cavern-like, so big it once was a parking garage for Greyhound Buses, a paper mill for all the lumber that moved through town and a storage facility for the Grand Theatre. The best is when Jon, Fogtown’s co-owner, tells me this story:
Previous owners have come by. One in particular, Matt Strong who used to own this building when there was like a telephone parts manufacturing something going on in here. He's come in sat at the bar. Looked up at the ceiling. And just said huh. And I was like What. What are you talking about. What's what are you looking at. So well see those patches of new spruce and pine that have patched up the old like hundred year old hemlock. I put that in because a truck came [00:41:00.0] in the loading dock and like busted through the floor on the on the floor above us and the tires were hanging down through the ceiling and they had to winch it out somehow and then put a new wood to patch the holes up so but he was fascinating.
Once you’ve experienced Fogtown, you can’t undo it. Listen to this episode to learn more about Ellsworth’s live music scene and take in a show from Beach Trash, a punk band fronted by a lobsterman by day and drag queen by night.

If Covid has you Craving A Roadtrip then listen to:
Episode 11 - A Road Trip Downeast to visit Maven & Pickled Wrinkle

When Driving Downeast to visit my friend Emma Thieme at her studio in Cherryfield I always take the scenic route. Known as Blackswoods, Route 182 is like entering a fairytale book. Winding roads and gorgeous lakes. Little pull offs and mountain views. The drive is short lived but so damn pretty, which is ironic because it is also the site of Maine’s most notorious ghost stories.... This road eventually brings you through Cherryfield where Maven Studio is located. Maven is handmade leather bags and motorcycle seats by Emma Thieme who also happens to star in a music video I directed called, "Love at Last Light". I capture her riding her motorcycle on Blackswoods en route to meet with her lover at a lighthouse. She is so inspiring and this area inspires her work :
“ I want to think of it as gritty and raw and like yeah not refined and I have found over the years that my designs change based on where I live. I'm realizing that like the hardware makes a really big difference and I'm looking at what's around me because this is just such a rough hard working area..”
After checking out her studio, we head to Pickled Wrinkle in Prospect Harbor. This road trip takes you around Schoodic Peninsula, though awesome fishing towns and all the way to Schoodic Point; Maine's best kept secret (till now). At Pickled Wrinkle... a place where
“You'll have a clam diggers sitting next to a millionaire and they're hanging out and buying each other drinks."
This restaurant and music venue is the best in the area and the building has an awesome history as well! Road tripping around Downeast Maine is exciting because it is so rural with so many back roads to explore, sure there are some Dollar Stores and eye sores but this part of Maine is a place of no distraction, it sings a different tune, it is gorgeous and it is waiting for you.

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