ROCKPILE on the road

Before LA, we did an overnight r&r in a Ramada Inn in Lebec.  Great oil painting of three cowboys steering a herd across the canvas.

Next day, in the Angeleno phalloidical hotel overlooking a freeway.  Yesterday’s rehearsal was a beautiful unfolding of separate artists coalescing into a working unit.

To top off the post-rehearsal joy, we ate at a Cuban resteraunt in Culver City at a long table surrounded by Michael & Terri’s friends.  Terri initiated me into some remarkable cuisine — plantains, green slices deep fried & ripe hunks glazed by sweetnes; soft warm bread brushed w/ garlic butter; oxtails; fish & beans & rice

…Today we go to the Billy Wilder auditorium for a soundcheck & then showtime at 7.  This is just a prelude of verbiage to come.  Sorry to be late.  Thanks again to Michael & Terri for putting up w/  me.  Onward!

David

Check out the first entry of the ROCKPILE video journal!
More coming soon.
Terri

Sleep is fairly hard to come by. (Ask David, I hear his groggy voice on the phone, offer to bring him a cup of black coffee. Don’t worry everyone, he’s still alive!) Today is rehearsal for Hammer Show (Oct. 8 at 7pm) at Johnny Lee Schell’s studio. We’re all ecstatic. Looking forward to seeing Johnny, He’s an old friend/co-writer on a bunch of songs and a few movie soundtracks, one of the few people who welcomed me as a collaborator when I hit the LA streets as a “songwriter” years back. Awesome guitar legend, what a treat to move this over to the poetry side of song.  And Joe Sublett, saxophonist extraordinaire, I met through Johnny back in those LA initiation days, another generous soul who befriended me when I came sneaking around. I met Theo Saunders in a Mexican restaurant in Venice, CA when David and I came to Beyond Baroque a year back to do a celebration reading for Philip Whalen Collected. I have seen videos of David M. and Theo, they have played together before many times, and I like it.  Looking forward to mix it up with him myself.   Debra Dobkin is a new friend. I hear she can play a full set of suitcases, drummer/percussionist (did you see the video of her and Richard Thompson in the back seat of a black taxi cab? wow!). John B. Williams is a legend too. What Jazz great hasn’t he played with. He’s coming all the way into town from Lancaster to bass it up with us for this grand ROCKPILE experiment.  Hat’s off to John B.  So I plan to read “I Murdered Elvis: The Nashville Journals” at the Hammer tomorrow. Mystified by the possibilities of collaboration with these magic minstrels.    Blues and Jazz and Rock. How will it come together? I know it will. Great musicians always find the language.– MR

Outside the Ramada Inn in Lebec, CA

When we pulled in last night at 9 pm ish, dozens of gray rabbits were hopping around the parking lot.

This golden, dry morning, just the roar of dozens of semi trucks, full of stuff, headed south.

Working on the first installment of ROCKPILE on the road video journal. So check back later!

Terri

Left Guerneville today at 11am and picked David up in Oakland. Stopped for a quick bite to eat and it took me about 5 minutes to explode on the subject of prima donna musicians and anyone whoever wanted to be a gate keeper!”Obscure,” I said. “Not in the least,” he replied. And that’s how it went down Highway 5. Poetry and music, the waft of manure over the fall brown valley farmlands. Stop at Harris Ranch to water the animals and more war stories. Rendezvous by cell phone. Hooked up there with old buddy/neighbor Joe running down the highway in his maroon vintage Supra to grab his daughter and friends in LA for the kickoff ROCKPILE show. More road buzz and enthusiasm than real eating. We talked Obama and Anarchy louder than the giant sportsbar TV and athletic surround sound. The guy at a table behind us had the hugest apple pie a la mode. And then we were back on the road, Joe way out in front of us, and my complaints continued about the scene and scenarios and the sad state of the arts. Not a business for poets. And so we consoled one another under a huge Just full yesterday)Moon. Stopping for the night in Lebec at the foot of the Grapevine. MR

FROM BOB MALONE:

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Tales from a Sunburnt Country, Part 1

New York to LA, LA to Sydney. After three weeks on the East Coast, I’m home for one day. Then it’s fifteen hours in the air, crammed into another Delta coach seat, Australia bound.

I arrive at 6:30 am. At 9:30 I’m on the phone with a newspaper writer in Melbourne, pulling off charming and witty in spite of the massive time displacement. Jet lag doesn’t accurately describe what it’s like coming here. It’s more like time travel. Wheels up on Tuesday, land on Thursday. I keep moving, a nap would be deadly. Lunch at noon, then ABC radio in Sydney for a live one with Richard Glover. He’s a fan and a real pro, it went so fast and smooth I had no sense of even doing it. If only they could all be like this.

Back at the shack at 4:00, another press interview. This time I’m talking to Maria, from one of the papers in Perth. A land so exotic and far away that even most Australians have never been there. I will be there in two weeks. I’m still on, but it getting harder now.

7:00 pm. We’re at a pub watching Pugsley Buzzard sing and play the piano. We’re doing a co-bill at The Basement in Sydney on Tuesday, and I’m sitting in to promote the show. Pugs sure can play the shit out of that piano. I have met my match, and I dig the challenge. I inhale a t-bone steak, play two songs, and head out of town with Mick the bass player to his place an hour south of town.

My head meets the pillow at 11:30, and I’m gone.

Awake in the am, the ocean booms softly below, the parrots call to each other in the trees. Paradise. Mick is set up here. We eat omelettes and drink strong coffee, get ready to go. Three hours to Canberra for another radio interview. We run out of gas within sight of a gas station, just as I am telling Mick how I love being on the road with him because he never fucks up. I figure he still didn’t fuck up because he ran out of gas so close to the station. The whole incident only sets us back 15 minutes.

Radio goes nicely. I banter with the host about drop bears and such, bang on the old upright. The horn section, who will be with me for the next four shows, is in the green room when I get back there. We have a quick verbal run-through of the charts, and then we all head out to The Great Southern Blues & Rockabilly Festival in Narooma. A hypothetical three hours away. There’s torrential rain, weekend traffic, and we’re stuck on a mountain two-lane behind an old camper with one of its rear brakes throwing sparks and fire. The trip takes over four hours.

In the backstage parking lot:

Me: “Where do we get our backstage passes?”

Parking Lot Guy: “I don’t know, mate!”

At the front gate:

Me: “Where’s the Albert King Stage?”

Front Gate Woman: “I don’t know, honey!”

Everyone here is on a need-to-know basis, apparently. But very friendly…

After much wandering in the pissing rain, we find the backstage entrance. Hugs all around with my good friends Gerry and Carmen Blaine. Gerry is the MC tonight. Candye Kane is ripping it up the next tent over, I want to drop by and never get the chance to. We say hi later via MySpace instead. Ahh, the modern world. Even as you gain something, you lose something better at the same time.

As showtime looms, the six-piece band I will be doing these shows with is finally assembled in one place. Half this band I am meeting for the first time. No rehearsal. They nail it. The crowd shows much love. It is a great night.

Back in my room at the La Salle Motor Inn, I have left my book backstage, and there is no wifi. Only the TV. No cable. A soul-numbing choice between “Thank God It’s Friday” or “Best Videos of the Eighties.” 1979 through 1989: was there ever a worse time for popular culture than those years? No, there was not. Disco, followed shortly by MTV and the drum machine. The music biz shot itself in the foot, and the patient never recovered.

This will be two days old by the time you lay eyes on it. And on the road, two days is a very long time.

Dear David,

This is totally weird. Are we really going on this magical mystery tour? Yes!!!!! Oh my god. This is insane.

We are packing now, you know to make sure we have it all together, files, cameras, computers, books, pills, clothes for driving, reading, lectures, sleeping, cold and hot, toiletries….wrapping up the house, putting it all in little bags for the road…insane, Terri’s making flyers for friend in New Orleans to hand out at open mics around town to get them to come out to our workshop open mic, sending out press releases to anyone I can annoy, blackmailing strangers and friends, we must have a full house, we got a great sushi restaurant (for David’s soul) for the night we arrive, and a big old get together at an amazing Cuban restaurant (Terri’s soul) October 7, the night before the show. I can’t sit still. Paying bills. I might even BLOG. Moving money around so I can pay musicians. Get Hammer contracts sent back so we can get paid. The Hammer calendar catalog came today, it looks very nice for ROCKPILE. Which hat should I wear? Evan Christopher plays Django’s “Low Cotton”. Spoke to Cosmos in London he’s as happy as can be, sets my mind more at ease.

I don’t think I am so much worried as I am plain just too excited most of the time. But I breathe when I can remember. And I remember to breathe right now. Ahh, I feel a lot better. Thanks for listening.

Love,
Michael

We apologize for the Events Calendar which is having a problem displaying November! It just vanished.Until we get the bug fixed, please make sure to look in the left menu bar, and click on “Gig Dates & Venues” to see detailed tour dates and locations! Hope to see you somewhere on the road!

TUNE IN! The night before we hit the road, Michael Franklin will interview us on Bottom Up Radio Network talking ALL ABOUT ROCKPILE!!

Bottom Up Radio Network
www.blogtalkradio.com/rabble
Michael Franklin interviews David Meltzer, Michael Rothenberg and Terri Carrion live!
“All about ROCKPILE”
Sunday, October 4th
8pm Central Time

Many incredible thanks to Karen Ivanis for her generosity. An amazing back story: Michael & I were in a plane going from somewhere to somewhere else & Karen squeezed through us to get to the window seat. The usual closeness but distance & then suddenly we connected & after a while Michael was telling her about Rockpile & she was telling us about working for Del Monte as a customer relations honcha — & amazingly Karen became excited about our project & wanted to help us from her side of the cacophony of dreams & drudgery. Karen is a deep soul to whom we’re deeply grateful.–DM

This begins some blog entries from fellow ROCKPILER Bob Malone who will be on tour in Australia as we begin the ROCKPILE Tour. Bob will join us in Chicago and St. Louis if he ever makes it back from down under (MR)

If It Sucks, I’ll Let You Know
I’m in New York, I have a headache, and I’ve got 7 bucks cash on me til I play my gig tomorrow. And I don’t even drink anymore. Some things never change. I, erstwhile denizen of the Apple, just played here, and I suppose this is where I’m supposed to tell you that the show went great, but who wants to hear that? I’m a professional, the show is supposed to go great. From now on, I’m just gonna tell you when the show sucked. That will make for a more interesting story. Mostly it’s getting harder to tell you anything at all. Technology has shortened my attention span to that of a single-celled organism. The only thing that has improved are my tweets…most days, it seems 140 characters are about all I have in me. I’m IM-ing and texting as I do this. And I’m no teenager. Where was I? Oh yeah, lots of shows coming up, around 30 between now and Thanksgiving. On two continents. Just added a Sept 25 house concert in Croton-on-Hudson, NY, Bodle’s Opera House is cancelled because they went out of business, and there are new reviews, and….look! A kitty! If any of the shows suck, I’ll let you know about it.– from Bob Malone

We are happy to add this event to our schedule (and calendar) while in Chicago.
Please update your personal calendars! Hope to see you there.

November 17 Columbia College Chicago
Symposium–Music and Poetry: The Art of Poetry Collaboration

5pm to 8pm
Columbia College Chicago
Ferguson Hall
600 South Michigan Avenue

Chicago, IL 60605
+1 312-663-1600‎

About: Since Kenneth Rexroth and Langston Hughes first collaborated with jazz musicians (but then Jelly Roll Morton claimed to have collaborated with authors, as well) poetry and music have enjoyed a special relationship. The subject ranges far and wide: Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, Allen Ginsberg’s manic rock combos, modern hip-hop, the singer-songwriter tradition of troubadors such as Bob Dylan and Lou Reed–the relationship between music, specifically jazz, and poetry has been percolating for generations. Sit in with these artists as they discuss this tempestuous relati Panelists include: David Meltzer, Michael Rothenberg, Art Lange, Dan McNaughton, Tony Trigillio, Ed Roberson, Dan Godston, Larry Sawyer, Francesco Levato, Terri Carrion, Bob Malone, and others.

Michael Rothenberg Petaluma Poetry Walk 9.20.09

David Meltzer reads “Brother”

Petaluma Poetry Walk- Aqus Cafe

Michael Rothenberg reads at Shelldance Orchid Nursery, 8-29-09 from ROCKPILE on Vimeo.

Michael Rothenberg reads “Interview With An Entertainment Vampire” with Terri Carrion and The Rabbles for Part 2 of Rockpile pre-ramble 2!

After much consideration and searching for kennels and doggie day care, all the logistics, twists and turns,  Terri and I have decided that it would be cruel and unusual punishment to try to bring Ziggy along. Due to our hectic schedule on the road, we would have to check him into kennels/daycare often, all around the country, and we feel we would be asking for trouble. There is no way to screen all these places sufficiently. Think about it, 5 days in each major city, that’s like 35 days in the kennel and very little time with us. Why bring him?  We would be running to appointments and breakfasts and lunch and dinner and we would be leaving him behind all the time. We are sad to leave Ziggy, but relieved at this decision. We will miss him! Fortunately, a good friend will stay in our house while we are away and she likes Ziggy and will take care of him here at the house. (Chiqui, our other dog, will go stay at his friends house in Cazadero).  So,  Ziggy will be safe and comfy at home with lots of attention all day. But Ziggy (and Chiqui) will be with us in spirit (if he wants). Okay, whew, what a relief. It was looking like a ASPC nightmare. Maybe I will start sleeping better. We will sure to bring pictures of our totem and call him every night!

Still pulling myself together after having witnessed David Meltzer’s amazing performance with The Rabbles, this past Saturday night, August 29, at the Shelldance Poetry Fest in Pacifica. This is the first time I have ever seen David go completely away from his written text to the entirely improvisational. And he was singing the blues! No dry recital from David! Serpent Power Resurrected and more. Wow! Terri and I kept on looking at each other across the audience shaking our heads in pleasure and disbelief. David just kept on pushing the edges and redefining the moment. The Rabbles got into the blues with him and together they had the audience mesmerized. I never know what to expect from David but it’s always inspirational. Inspired! Check out the video of this performance here now!

David Meltzer reads at Shelldance Orchid Nursery, 8-29-09 from ROCKPILE on Vimeo.

And I can’t stop thinking how much fun, and inspiring, it was to work with the Rabbles on my own performance of “Interview With An Entertainment Vampire”. The Rabbles are brilliant and generous musicians. They wrapped one of their original free fall compositions,”From Here to Oblivion” by J. Lee around “Vampire”, and gave “Vampire” a musical home. They went with me where I needed to go to get this musical infection out of my system. I was stomping hard on the stage and they seemed to like it!!! (Part 2 of the ROCKPILE Pre-ramble will be going up here tomorrow. Will let you know)

Hats off to the Rabbles, J. Lee (guitar/vocals/harpsichord), Marina Lazzara (gtr/vocals/toy piano) and Jamie Kimmel (bass/vocals), Dave “Crash” Mairs (drums/vocals/ and the secret weapon Dave Lovato (cello). Brilliant musicians and spontaneous composers with toy pianos and whatever kind of sonic peddle they could conjure from the metal. The Rabbles are incredible, it’s an honor to work with them, and we are already talking about doing it again. I can’t wait.

And not to ever forget Terri Carrion, she made it all come together, the defining character of the night of many characters. Terri in platinum blond wig, black tap shoes, stockings adorned with stars brandished an accordion that glowed in the dark! What a Vampire she was! She had the character nailed, the Vampire part came off like it was written for her. Was it? I don’t know but Terri has got a role to play for sure. Cover your veins!
——— Michael R

“sunday aug 23, leif showed up with koto and lou liberty with her
smaller taiko (taiko means drum so don’t say taiko drum, as like rio
grande river). i played some asian pentatonic scales on my alto. &
i’d have to say we sounded downright beautiful.

leif also brought his hurdy gurdy. as he says it is good for about 20
seconds of shock value. it definitely grabs your attention.

we did talk also about a gameplan for outpost gig. as lou said we
need a beginning, middle, and end. my feeling as well. what we also
discussed was that there not be any “dead air” to the performance, so
that some kind of sound be present at all times. tho this would be
more as what leif described as “uncluttered air” like subtle plinks,
plonks, tones, etc. or as lou used a taiko term “mah” or active
silence. as in dance, she said, where one is poised or moving from
one position to the next.

very enjoyable discussion as to how to create a poetry event that is
enjoyable. “do not bore ye ol audience with thy ego.”

i will try to get a something from the poets so we know what they
plan to do. on the one hand we want to accompany them, but also they
to be participants in what we do. how to make the event cohesive is
our task i believe. the beauty of free improvisation, as we have
found out, is that there are no wrong sounds if one is listening to
what everyone else is doing. that interactive element of surprise we
have come to be good at.

so saturday august 29, or sunday, august 30  or both at 1pm at my studio in placitas is the next
clambake.

i would also like to try setting up as if we would be on stage, so to
organize the sound projection for both ourselves and to an audience.
i will not be taking my rat fink drum kit to outpost for the gig, so
our drums will be those you bring. i am happy to use my conga tho, if
someone wants. same goes for the temple blocks or any other
instrument so desired, but choose your axe. of course there is a
visual delight to our vast array, which is part of the whole thing.

there should be much more discussion as to said gameplan. signals?
“uncluttered air” solos? sound dynamics? flow, et c”

—–JB Bryan

(David Meltzer)

IMPOSSIBLE MUSIC


Brilliant ideas arrive like celestial comets as Mercury conjuncts
Uranus. Think of your mind as a radio transmitter and receiver.
The Aquarius has one of the sharpest intellects of the zodiac. Paint
the town red tonight.

The old tale teller’s ploy: Where to begin? How to start? In the
middle of the night and day of you are the one, it’s always been
music and never words enough to say it, within it or beyond it.
Profound dyslexia. Metaphor abounds. But no way into what the music
is, was, does, reveals, conceals. Ammiel and yrs vaguely spend a late
afternoon in The Musical Offering cafe in Berkeley. “Ami” “El” =
“friend/beloved of God” (?) and “David”, singer/psalmist, the Temple
music director, in a delere. The music jones; Ammiel back from a
blitzgrieg at Amoeba in San Francisco and David fresh from a quick
taste at Berkeley’s mothership Amoeba, backpacks stuffed with CDs
zagging and zigging across crashed empires of diaspora and meltdown.
If you’re in the predatory imperial mode, one can buy and therefore
own any CD art wafer from too many disasters of class warfare,
racism, pimping between the two lines of defeat, exploiting the
exploiters. Hip-hop gangstas are square because they align with
market capitalism venality — hey, we’re fucking entrepeneurs; we
drive Mercedes and don’t pay taxes. We’re just like you, why do you
hate us?

When we talk of music it is about love impossible to speak of.

Jazz Kabbalah, the black & white of it, the page, the letters, ink,
its black absence its white presence

describe the revolutionary harmonic shift wrought by Debussy, Ravel,
Satie, a jazz pianist said, ‘Yeah, they’re playing the black keys’

the sounds made are colorless until pulled out of the air &
transcribed, not even trance- scribed, but blacked onto white onto
black lines of the page

don’t belive it: Scriabin & Huysmans — one shapes sound, the other
pages, but others see chromaticism as color-coded & kabbalistically
each letter has a musical equivalent or each word in Hebrew
explaining or deliniating a musical term is mutable & permutable —

thieves invent moral order;
crooks create classic art;
salesmen are at a loss even though they win when poets don’t

we riff our ruin into say-no amulets & say-yes run-the-lotto-down
dream-book number code
moving the move to alert
Publishers Clearing House to reroute its TV crew in the new SUV to my
front door

numbers & letters
notes & tones

immense hope of overcome & underpay plus underplay oy vey to
reach-out & pull into ongoing networks connected at the core of more