Things I've done lately

November isn't a month with a lot going on around these parts, but I've managed to keep occupied. Last Friday, I won tickets to see the band Dawes play live at Studio M at the Triple M radio station.  I'd heard good buzz about Dawes live, though I was a little suspicious after reading about their connection with Jonathan Wilson and the whole Laurel Canyon crowd.  I wasn't able to attend their Friday night show at the Majestic, so the chance to see them free in a very small room that afternoon was much appreciated.

Triple M gave out free beer and Blue Sky soda before the show, an unexpected bonus.  Not being a soda or beer fan, I still appreciated the thought.  After drinks were distributed, approximately twenty of us were led down to the studio where Dawes was already set up on a small stage.  They played four songs, and were interviewed for about half an hour.  It was interesting to be part of a future radio broadcast - a little bit like being in a TV audience.  I enjoyed the performance, although judging from some of the questions in the interview, I'm guessing I don't have a much better feel for the full Dawes live show than I did before.  According to lead singer Taylor Goldsmith, they don't typically use acoustic guitars at all.  The studio performance consisted of one acoustic guitar, and three voices - the bass player didn't attend, because he doesn't sing.  Maybe I'll catch a proper Dawes show sometime.  From all I've heard, good things seem to be ahead for the band.

On Thursday, I saw Anthony Bourdain at the Overture Center.  I'm a fan of Tony's various TV shows and books, but I wasn't sure what to expect from his live appearance.  As it turned out, more of the delightful same: trash talk about various Food Network personalities, anecdotes about Top Chef, rants and advice about traveling and eating abroad, and a lengthy Q&A session at the end.  Someone asked a leading question about high speed trains in Wisconsin, earning a huge laugh and big applause when Tony - clearly getting that he had suddenly become part of some inside joke - nevertheless spoke in favor of high speed rail.  Listening to the crowd's reaction, I again wished Dane County could somehow secede from Wisconsin.

Between those two activities, I had a birthday.  There was no big trip or serenades this year, but I had a very pleasant day and heard from many friends and family members.  Plus, a coworker friend brought a birthday treat to work on my behalf.  Someone else baking your birthday treat: highly recommended.  And this afternoon: Harry Potter!

Posters

I was home sick one day last week, and figured I might as well make myself useful.  I proceeded to dig out and catalog all of the posters I've acquired and not hung up over the past eight years or so.  Nearly all are music-related: a mixture of show posters, album posters, and generic artist posters, with the odd music documentary poster and ... 1996 U.S. Men's Olympic Gymnastics Team poster ... thrown in.  Again: these are posters that have been stored in two closets in my home, mostly unframed, not doing anybody any good.

Q: How many posters were there?
A: There were fifty-seven posters.

I know this makes it sound like the Hoarders production crew might be stopping by at any moment, but I swear you'd never know to look at my closets that they harbored fifty-seven posters.  They take up so little room propped flat against the wall!  Even rolled up in groups, they're deceptively unassuming.

Of course, I didn't buy all of them.  Some were torn from windows or doors after a show, some were included with the purchase of an album, some were freebies from friendly record stores.  Still, perhaps the knowledge that I have fifty-seven undisplayed posters in my house ought to prevent me from ever purchasing a poster again.  It's true that I have curbed my poster-buying in recent years ... but sometimes I can't resist.  I'm a sucker for local venue posters, or posters from shows I'm proud to have seen.  I keep thinking that I'll frame more of them, and I will!  Really!  If nothing else, this project reminded me that I have some gems that deserve to be enjoyed.

But where to put them?  Between the spare bedroom and my office at work, I already have a respectable total on display.  The living room and hallways could accommodate many more, but it's not the design aesthetic I'm striving for in the main living areas of my home.  I could rotate the posters that are on display now.  Maybe I need to explore the untapped potential of bathrooms.

Here are a few of the posters I cataloged last week.  The others can be found in this Flickr set.  Any votes for which ones should be framed (and/or actually hung) next?

A jet plane and a big idea

For a long time now, I've wanted to see a show at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville.  I've seen The Avett Brothers live twice, and thoroughly enjoyed both concerts.  So when the Avetts announced a pair of Halloween shows at the Ryman earlier this year, including one on Saturday night, I thought, "Hey, I should go to that."  And I did.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals opened the show, calling out a surprise guest on one song for a duet: Kenny Chesney.  I honestly wasn't sure if it really was Kenny Chesney at the time - it seems it was - but he did sound good.  Grace Potter's crew was dressed in NASCAR gear for Halloween, and Grace claimed that she and her bassist were dressed as "professionals ... not professional musicians."

The curtain closed between sets, keeping stage preparations a mystery.  In the meantime, the well-costumed crowd entertained itself by singing loudly along with "Living on a Prayer" and "Rocket Man."  Eventually, the lights dimmed and the curtain parted to reveal a suitably creepy Halloween setup.  The band, dressed as mummies, lurched onstage and hammed it up before beginning the show with fitting opener: "Die Die Die."

Judging from reports of Friday's show, the Avetts varied the setlists widely across the two nights.  I was happy to hear "In the Curve," and "SSS," even if I missed "Laundry Room."  Bob Crawford, Seth, and Scott all took solo turns on Saturday.  "Murder in the City" was the first song of the encore, with Scott sporting a new tiara along with the mummy costume - an interesting juxtaposition with the simple, heartfelt lyrics of the song.  I think I've seen "Murder in the City" each time I've seen the band, but this was the first time I heard Scott sing "my brother" and "my father" in place of "sister" and "mother." (The other two times, I think he substituted wife and daughter.  It's a versatile song.)

Two hours after the show began, it ended with Grace Potter and a couple of her band members dancing on stage with the Avetts, and Scott and Seth cutting off pieces of their mummy costumes to hand out to audience members.  I left the Ryman happy on Halloween Eve - and even returned for a backstage tour the next day before my flight home.  I'm pleased that I can check the Ryman Auditorium off my list of places to visit - and very pleased that I saw The Avett Brothers one more time in 2010.

 

Historical intrigue

Joseph Very Quarles (Senator)

On a recent visit to Kenosha, I unearthed the abstract and title for my parents' house.  It's a sizable document, detailing the ownership of the land the house was built on, and eventually the house itself.  Included is a charming map of the sector of land first purchased in 1839 and then divided up into plots.  The map is from 1920, and I love it because all the streets and avenues had their old names.  Seventy-fifth Street was Selma Avenue.  The little park was already there on the median in the middle of 27th Avenue, but 27th Avenue was called Erie Street.

Included in the abstract are various Last Wills and Testaments, by which the land passed from one owner to the next.  At some point around the middle of the nineteenth century, it was owned by Ann Quarles.  Her last Will and Testament was among the most interesting, bequeathing such items as a portrait of herself (to her baby granddaughter), and a portrait of her deceased son (to another of her sons.)  She also left a gold watch, chain, and "appendages" to a Joseph V. Quarles, or, in the event of his death before her own, to his wife.

I'm not sure of the relationship between Ann Quarles and Joseph V. Quarles, but Ann appointed Joseph and a man named Michael Frank as the executors of her will.    The rest of the will detailed specifications for what should happen to her estate.  Four thousand dollars was to be taken from the total remaining after the sale of all her properties, invested in real estate bonds, and the interest earned was to be split yearly between two of her sons.  The remaining total from the sale of her estate was to be split between her three daughters.  There were more clauses for various eventualities.

This was all kind of cool, but none of those later details grabbed my interest like Article III of the will.  Before Ann Quarles went into specifics about her estate, there was Article III.  One sentence.  "To my son Samuel Quarles I leave the sum of Twenty Five Dollars."

OH SNAP.

That was the one and only time Samuel Quarles was mentioned.  I have a hundred questions, of course.  What did Samuel do to piss off his mother?  Was he a genuine scoundrel, or did he just, say, marry a kitchen maid?  Why bother naming him in the will at all?  It had to be for vindictive purposes, right?  The whole family would come together for the reading of the will, and Samuel would be humiliated in front of the largest possible audience?  

Things only got more interesting with the next document in the abstract, a notarized statement by Michael Frank.  In it, he refused to be an executor of Ann Quarles' Last Will and Testament.  Why would he refuse?  Too much on his plate?  Or was it possible that Michael Frank didn't approve of Article III, and wanted nothing to do with the will?  Obviously that's wild speculation, given that this probably wasn't among the top ten most outrageous things you'd find in a will, even in the 1800s.  And it looks like Michael Frank was a busy guy.  Still, I wonder.

It may be possible to find answers to some of these questions.  The Quarles family was prominent in Kenosha.  A quick Google search shows that there were at least four men named Joseph V. Quarles (each man kept passing the name down to his son).  The first was a notable Wisconsin pioneer.  His son was a lawyer, eventually mayor of Kenosha, and a Wisconsin senator around the turn of the century.  One of them was the Joseph V. Quarles named as executor of Ann's will (and left a gold watch).  I don't know how Ann Quarles was related to Joseph, but that should be one of the easier mysteries to solve.  Beyond that, I'm not sure.  Scour old Kenosha newspapers for mentions of Samuel Quarles?  Look for a marriage certificate?  Talk to someone who knows Kenosha history?  If only they had the internet back in the 1800s.

I have no idea when I might find time to delve into this, but I'm happy to have a little history project for a rainy day.  Okay, to be honest ... probably a whole lot of rainy days.  

Kindergarten, 1973

I posted this once before, years ago, but I came across it today while cleaning out some files.  It's cute.  And it's been a slow week.  So - here it is again.

This is pretty much my family's only good brush with fame story, so I have to keep it alive.  (For a larger version, click and zoom.)

Blue lake and rocky shore

Last weekend, Allison and I took a trip to Maine.  We spent Friday night in Portland, Saturday in Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, and then drove back to Portland on Sunday.

I loved it.  We picked an excellent time of year to visit.  Friday was rainy, but Saturday and Sunday were sunny and beautiful, with temperatures in the low 60's.  Perfect weather for a day at Acadia among the spruce and fir trees next to the ocean.  The park wasn't too crowded, and the wildness was palpable.  Even though the coast of Maine has been settled longer than central Wisconsin, nature feels much less tame there than it does here.  Falls colors weren't at their peak, but well on the way.  We hiked the Ocean Path from Otter Point to Sand Beach, part of the Jordan Pond Shore trail, around the summit of Cadillac Mountain, and caught a beautiful, chilly, blustery sunset at the Blue Hill Overlook.  We even saw a bald eagle.

The shops and scenery in Portland were charming, and even on Friday we didn't let the rain stop us from exploring.  We poked in and out of stores - there's a lot of pottery in Portland - and took a monumentally gusty walk in the rain along Casco Bay.  On Sunday morning we found the Maine Historical Society, and I paid a fascinating visit to the Tate House Museum before I left on Sunday afternoon.  I now know what I want to do when I retire ... I was born for docenthood.

On every step of the trip, sometimes by accident, Allison and I dined well.   A restaurant with hanging herbs in the small dining room, a chowder house, Jordan Pond House in Acadia, a funky cafe in Bar Harbor, S.O.S. for brunch in South Portland, drinks at a majestic bar that used to be a church.  And everywhere - stores, restaurants, hotels, museums, the park - people were incredibly friendly and helpful.  Maine knows how to make an excellent impression.  

With my shiny new star-spangled tennis shoes on

On Tuesday, September 28th, everyone in the world came to downtown Madison.

Well, maybe not everyone, but I can't remember a day when I was presented with so many big-name opportunities in my own city.  The National and Owen Pallett had been scheduled for months at the Oprheum, and the Drive-By Truckers were at the Majestic.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, it was announced that President Obama would hold the first of four "Moving America Forward" rallies in Madison.  Ben Harper would be the musical guest.  Last week, I heard Jason Isbell was performing for free at the Wisconsin Veteran's Museum Tuesday afternoon.  And just a couple of days ago, The National was added to the Obama rally bill along with Mama Digdown's Brass Band.  Daaaamn.

I was nearly paralyzed by all the choices, along with horror of the downtown crowds and diverted traffic that would doubtless await.  In the end, I decided I could attend the rally - or try to - and make it back to the top of State Street in time for The National's show.  Surprisingly, I didn't have trouble finding a spot in a downtown parking garage.  I was lulled by the relative calm of State Street into grabbing a coffee and newspaper before moving toward Library Mall to find the end of the line.

Hahahahahaha!  By the time I found the end of the line, I'd walked with throngs of others from the base of Library Mall at Park and Bascom Hill south to University Avenue, west to Charter, north on Charter to Linden, and a few blocks west down Linden.  That's the better part of a mile, folks.  And people continued to arrive behind me.  (I'm not counting all the people who cut, which must have at least tripled the length of the line in front of us.)  Was it even worth it to wait?  Library Mall isn't that big, and I knew it would take at least an hour to get back once the line began moving.  But, I was there, so figured I might as well try.

It did take more than an hour - I walked through the gates as Tammy Baldwin began her speech - but I did get in.  Hooray!  It was too full to get anywhere near the front of the stage, to put it mildly, but walking around behind the stage gave intermittent views at relatively close range.  I got there just in time for The National to come out and play two songs, "Fake Empire" and "Terrible Love."  More speeches followed, including an appearance by Russ Feingold - proving rumors of his skipping the rally to be false.  Ben Harper played some songs.  I took in the scene, which included an impressive number of cops and men in suits and sunglasses, a few black choppers overhead, and honest-to-goodness snipers on the roof of Memorial Library.  Then Tom Barrett introduced Barack Obama, the first sitting president to appear in Madison since Harry Truman.

I enjoyed Obama's speech (and the fact that he talked about getting up to shenanigans in Madison when he first moved to Chicago, and got in a few Bears-Packers barbs).  But in the back of my mind, I was also thinking, "Crap, I need to make it back to the Orpheum."  I didn't have to worry about the show itself, since the band was still there watching the president's speech.  Still, I hate cutting things close.

Finding my way out of the security labyrinth proved more difficult than entering.  From where I stood at the rally, I could see State Street a mere block away, overflow crowds bunching around the security barriers.  So close, yet so far.  In order to get there, I had to walk up Observatory Drive and essentially cut across campus and back.  I still wound up arriving before doors at the Orpheum, since the show's start time had been pushed back.  A long line greeted me, but by then "long line" was a relative term.  Once inside I confirmed that the high stage was back, which meant arrival time didn't matter much anyway.

Owen Pallett was great in the opening slot - another reminder that unfamiliar openers aren't just something to be politely endured until the main act.  As Owen played the violin (and keyboard) and employed a looping technique, I couldn't help thinking of Andrew Bird.  Pallet's style seems a bit more classical and less ... whimsical?  The songs aren't really similar, but I can now safely say I enjoy both.  I particularly liked the song about the skyline of Toronto.

Around 9:15, The National took the stage.  Though this was my first National concert, my interest in the band was in fact sparked by a live performance.  Totally unfamiliar with their music, I happened to be watching Letterman earlier this year on a night when The National was the musical guest.  They played "Afraid of Everyone," and by the end of the song they had made a big impression on me.  Over the next few months I picked up and became very familiar with their three most recent albums, which served me well on Tuesday.

It's always interesting to see a band live for the first time.  I had some notions of what a show might be like based on their music and a few interviews and reviews, but of course the reality was something different.  I expected them to put on an intense, energetic show, which they absolutely did.  I didn't expect them to be as funny as they were between songs.  People apparently love to play "Slow Show" at weddings, even though, in the words of one of the Dessners, "This is the song where Matt talks about his dick."  Matt Berninger pointed out that the whole song isn't about his dick ... it's mostly about getting married.  There were anecdotes about the Dessners' cousin, Jeff, who played hockey for the UW and now sells insurance in Minnesota, and how Mrs. Dessner disapproved of a particular song because of all the yelling, and thought early on that they ought to find a pretty girl to be the singer.  (Matt concurred.)  Lots of talk about Obama - the band had met him for the first time that day, and were still riding high.  "He looked super nervous when he met us," Matt joked.  He later told the crowd that they'd been trying to figure out what to say to the president.  Drummer Bryan Devendorf's sentiment of choice?  "You rocked it, sir!"  Matt added that Bryan had been wearing dark glasses and a headband at the time.  "And then [Obama] ignored the rest of us and went off to do shots with Bryan."  

That was between songs.  During songs, the band was all business: which is to say, they gave an emotional, energetic performance.  Being a first-timer, I don't know what their concerts are typically like, or which songs might make longtime fans check their watches.  From my perspective, though, the setlist was excellent.  Songs I'd been hoping to hear were there: "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks," "Abel" (the song with all the yelling), "Afraid of Everyone" (for the media), "Bloodbuzz Ohio" (dedicated to the swing states), "Fake Empire," the slow-building anthem "England."

Toward the end of the show, Matt noted that this was one of the best days they'd ever had.  The performance of "Mr. November" was especially appropriate that night, and though Matt didn't venture off the Orpheum's eight-foot stage, he did drape himself halfway over its edge, a sea of hands reaching out to touch his back and shoulders. And I couldn't have been more surprised to find myself near tears at the end of "Terrible Love," shouting the refrain over and over with the the band and 1500 others.  "It takes an ocean not to break."  I don't know what it means, exactly, but at the same time I do.  What a cathartic song.  In the end, that's what the best rock concerts can offer.

Back in August, I had to decide whether to see The National in Milwaukee or The New Pornographers in Madison.  I chose TNP.  Would I choose differently now?  I'm not sure.  Reason says I'd still go with the show in town, but it would be a much tougher decision after Tuesday.