psych

by pieces of moments

So nothing happened. I was sure that when I awoke this morning and pulled open the super heavy, light blocking curtains in my hotel room that I would see wind, rain, and measurable destruction from Ike. Instead, I was blinded by the light and the following sequence of thoughts ensued:

Uh…sunshine?

Wait.

Really?

…Sleepy stumble toward tv…

Turn on tv

( *click*)

…wait for picture…

Ike has gone straight North and missed San Antonio completely?

You mean we’ll have an audience at our show after all!?

Therefore, it was a hot and sunny day. Of course, we were inside for the majority of it with sound checks, rehearsals, and the show taping itself, but that’s fine. Our Boston bodies had already been turning to align with autumn in the East, so all this Summer revisited was a tad bit too shocking anyway.

The show taping went really, really well. The audience was great, the performers did a great job, and Chris even busted out a new transcription he arranged of Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box”, which was actually quite effective. The slower tempo with which he treated it really took the song from being morose rock to being a heavy and darkly saturnine litany. After the show and the flurry of autograph requests for both Chris and all the kids, our first Texas show of the two-step set was done.

Back at the ranch (the ‘hotel’…hey, I’m just tryin’ to keep that Texas flavor, ya’ll) while we were all grabbing a post-show snack, one of our producers recounted an amazing story from his long history in music/radio production about hanging with Quincy Jones while he was putting together Michael Jackson’s Thriller album. I know, right? How amazing would it be to have dropped in and hung out with Mr. Jones and all those amazing musicians while they were laying down the tracks to one of the seminal albums of our modern music era? Then Tori, our light designer, was telling us all about Burning Man this year (her second year attending the festivities). She told us that this year there was a This American Life camp out there, so amongst all the craziness here was this group that would sit down every afternoon and gather ’round to listen to a broadcast (podcast, I’m assuming since it was a daily ritual). In the midst of a conversation about what everyone had been cooking recently I somehow came up with a tv show concept for Johana that would actually be really amazing. So…I can’t tell you what it is for the sake of protecting the intellectual property of the concept, but suffice to say it’s pretty awesome.

Tomorrow we have the day “off”, which happens every now and again with shows that are scheduled nearly back to back like these two. The Alamo is just a couple of blocks down, so I thought I’d have a look tomorrow so I can remember it later like you’re supposed to (and to satisfy my rampant obsession with historical points of interest), and maybe I can also use the bit of down time to finally get over the last lingering remnants of this useless cold I have been lugging around in my sinuses.

Now I’m going to flip through my airport purchase of Travel+Leisure Magazine and dream that I, too, have a house in the Cotswolds.

P.S.

You know, if this could portray real time you would see all the time I spent sifting through Nirvana songs trying to think which one is really my most favorite. The thing is, they are all so good and the collective bunch of them define a particular period in my life, much like many other young adults my age I would guess. But then again, I have always been absolutely abysmal at picking favorites of anything.

This whole Nirvana moment reminds me of this totally beloved olive green wool cardigan I found in this ridiculous second hand shop in St. Paul, Minnesota as a teenager. That sweater was one of the loves of my teenage life and I called it my Nirvana sweater since it looked a lot (well, not so bulky) like the one that Kurt Cobain wore when they did that marvelous historical document we the public know as their MTV Unplugged concert. Man, I miss that cardigan. I wonder what happened to it. I think I lost it in the shuffle of constant motion that was my college experience, but now I’m getting tired – and therefore sentimental and wordy – so I’m gonna stop while I’m ahead and switch gears to a brief compare contrast. I think you will find this interesting.

Up first, the original: Nirvana with their eponymous “Smells Like Teen Spirit”…

Next, the covers…

I leave you to judge the outcome, but hey, at least our girl Tori Amos knows the lyrics…

From the sublime to the ridiculous as Paul Anka decides to swing it…

And just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more exotic…

You guessed it…it did…

Finally…Patti Smith brings it back into more dignified territory…

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