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First Letter to You of 2009
Welcome to the best 2009 ever. Glad you could be here for the show. It's that time of year when people make resolutions. That promise to the self to achieve a certain thing or things. My version of this is to make a list of goals.What's yours?
I've had "Travel to Europe" on these lists for years. I was honestly dissuaded by the Bush presidency. I'm feeling better now about traveling the world now. I realized a while back though that the main reason I haven't gone to Europe yet is because I'm chicken shit. That's right. I know who I am and that's the root of this. I'm afraid to go over there... by myself.
Look: if I go... er, WHEN I go to Europe, it'd be really nice to have some company. At least *a* companion. If that companion happens to speak French, Italian, Celtic and/or Spanish - even poorly - that'd be a huge bonus. Mostly though, I'd like someone to share the experience with, to reflect on it with later.
I was kinda holding out that I could book a tour there. In lieu of that, I may just have to figure it out to take a vacation. That'd be an interesting thing to put on my list: Take a Vacation. Really though, if you're a European promoter, I'd love to talk shop.
I have a Delta SkyMiles American Express credit card. Signed up for it a few years ago. Don't remember when, but at some point it dawned on me that if I would use it when I fill up my gas tank, then eventually all this touring would lead to enough Sky Miles to travel to Europe. Ostensibly, for free.
It's takes 50,000 miles. I'm above the 45,000 mark. I'll have all I need by late spring, early summer. So, who wants to join me for a 2010 trip to Europe?
It'll take some planning and this could be a once in a lifetime happening. Let's go for 2 or 3 months. Really dig into it. Sure, we'll do some of the tourist things - we'll have to - but let's live in a village for a few weeks. Become part of a family somewhere. Build some lasting relationships and plant the seeds for possible return trips. You can not do this in 10 days with a focus on the Colosseum.
We'll need at least 60.
In all my notebooks, I can not find a list of goals for 2008. Huh? I did, however, find a list of goals for 2007. It was interesting, aside from the whole Europe thing, I actually nailed most of it... by the end of 2008. The big one was paying back the friends that supported me in making Rust Belt Vagabond and Driver. Checked that one right off.
Some of it was personal, some professional. Most of it achieved. Soon, I'll have to set about making such a list for 2009. Time to think about what I want to do with myself. What do I want to do?
The following is a common comment
communicated to me by my community:
I really like your CDs, but you should record a live album.
Perhaps you've said this yourself. Well, I'm finally working on it. It will be on the list. It's already on the list in my head. Right ther at the top of it. In 2009, I will release a live album. With any luck, a companion DVD.
The real goal is to pay for it's production on my own dime. I've paid off my van loan. I can do this. Shit, I can do anything I set my mind to. Can't we all?
I've already filled up a number of pages on what songs I think I ought to include and what songs I should include. The initial list of potential songs had something like 45 titles on it. THAT will not happen. Remember this show biz axiom: leave 'em wanting more.
It hit me that certain songs - "New Clothes," "A Brother's Code," "MacGruder's Daughter" - that have been in the set for years are no longer available on a CD. The albums they were released on are out of print and will likely stay that way.These songs ought to be included.
Then there's the stuff that's never been recorded, like "Greg Klyma's Chicken Song" and "I-40, Roland, OK." These songs and stories are the main reason why I'm finally convinced to release a live album. You've been letting me know. In 2009, I will finally get on with it. I can be slow, but I'm reliable.
I hope your holiday rocked socks. I got to visit with my family for a couple of weeks which afforded me lots of time with the niece and nephew, the mom and dad, the brother and sister. They're the best.
You ain't so bad yerself.
~ gK ~
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Second Letter to You of 2009
Somewhere along the way, I learned how to make myself dinner. What once seemed an impossible dream is now a reality. I'm not even talking about opening a bunch of cans and nuking 'em in the microwave bachelor style. No, this was honest to goodness cooking of salmon, quinoa with mushrooms, a steamed artichoke and a tasty arugala salad with avocado, sprouts and Roma tomato. Even went to the store to buy the groceries myself. How very adult of me. Please... hold your applause.
The trip to the grocery store was inspired by the trip to get my oil changed. There's a quick lube place next to the grocery so it was very convenient to buy food. Who knew the oil change would turn into a story. I was presented with a concept I liked so I played along.
I prefer to do my own oil changes. Firstly, it's the one act of engine maintenance that I ever learned and retained. Secondly, it feels good to participate in the process. Three, I trust that it is changed when I see that I have changed it. And lastly, it takes a little more time, but it costs me only the price of supplies. I'm frugal and this works for me.
Oil change places and many mechanics will tell you to have your oil changed every 3,000 miles. This is largely a lie. Consumer Reports and your owner's manual agree that 5,000 miles is just fine, at least on newer vehicles. That's 2 oil changes every 10,000 miles instead of 3 every 9,000 (aka, money in your pocket). With the miles I drive on the income I live on, you too would change your own oil.
The friends I am staying with do not change their own oil. Therefore, they do not have a bin in their garage for me to spill my old oil into. Therefore, I was resigned to having to go to go in for service. With 4,996 miles logged since the last one, I pulled up and asked "how much for an oil change?"
"$38 for the change, check on all fluids and air pressure."
"That's bullshit."
Me and the fella had a brief discussion about how it's mostly paying for the convenience of speed and service. I shared how I'd rather just pay $15 for oil and a filter and do it myself, but I didn't have everything I needed this go around.
The guy says "If you want to go to an auto parts store and buy the stuff, you can come back here and I'll change it for you for ten dollars." I smiled and said "you're on."
A mechanic friend once told me that it is important to run the vehicle before changing the oil. Not counting a trip or two around the block, it takes me about 20 minutes to change my oil. I take my time sometimes and it's more like a half an hour. This whole experience came in around 45 minutes. It's a Tuesday and I have a pretty open sched through Feb.
Now, here's the thing, ultimately this only "saved" me a little bit of money. Supplies came in closer to $20 than $15 and there was the time it took to go buy the oil. Had I could have done this job myself, I would have spent the money on the oil anyway and now didn't have to make a second trip to the auto store with my waste oil. Somewhere in there, this all evens out for me, time wise and cost.
I returned with 5,001 miles since my last oil change and had the fella do the work for ten bucks. The cherry on top is that I found the whole experience entertaining. I got a smile out of it. You can spend more money and time at the movies and have less to talk about than this. Hell, it could turn into a song if I'm not careful.
Next time, I expect to be back to doing this job myself. I like being involved in the maintenance of my transportation. It's kinda like preparing my own meal.
~ gK ~
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Third Letter to You of 2009
With very few shows scheduled in January and less than that booked in February, I've had lots of time to visit with friends. I spent most of the first two weeks of this year in GA. That was the best job I have done so far of escaping the cold. I recall spending a couple hours outside in nothing but a soft cotton shirt and blue jeans video taping some songs on a porch in Marietta.
From Georgia I drove north to Knoxville, TN. Driving north alone is enough to drop the temperature a bit and add a pair of long johns to the wardrobe. My friends in Knoxville lost their heat the night I arrived. Oh, and a cold front moved through the region. The portent of that visit was revealed to me on a recent visit to the Ozarks.
I love hanging out in Eureka Springs, AR. I played shows there the second to last weekend of January. I arrived a few days beforehand and breathed in the Ozarks. It was a fine visit that included watching Casablanca with friends. Perfect. Chill. Eureka!
Talk of a coming ice storm sped my trip along. I was going to be in the Ozarks regardless for a couple of more days. The hope to visit with Jack Williams and his wife Judy and the thought that I might not be able to drive there by Tuesday got me on my way on Monday afternoon. I arrived at Jack and Judy's home on a clear sunny afternoon. We talked, used the Internet, used the electric stove and oven to make dinner... it was truly modern of us.
That night the freezing rain came. We went to bed in a heated house that had a night light on in the bathroom. We woke up without such amenities. The trees were only covered with about a half inch of ice at that point. It had been freezing rain for hours. It would continue through the day. By the time I left on Wednesday afternoon, some of the fallen branches had 2 - 4 inches of ice on them. One tree had fallen mere feet behind their van!
While I have failed miserably at avoiding the northern cold, it's been a month rich with visits. The time I spent with Jack and Judy was amazing. No electric. No stove. Judy heated water on the wood burning stove that kept the kitchen space and ourselves warm to make us tea and coffee, oatmeal and soup.
When I was a child, I recall playing cards, board games and such with my mom and perhaps a sibling. That word game - Boogle. Played it. Yahtzee? Yup.
Jack, Judy and I played Boogle and Yahtzee by candle and oil lamp light. We drank tea, told stories, made up jokes in the moment and generally kept each other entertained. There was something very Little House on the Prairie about it. There was something of personal nostalgia. There was everything present in the moment with friends who were getting to know each other better about it. And while I feel like I'm hardly doing it justice, I think you know what I mean. It was perfect.
~ gK ~
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Fourth Letter to You of 2009
You might not know if from my blogs or this letter, but I have been writing a bit lately. This year, I've probably written 8 or 9 songs. Not prolific, but it works for me. A few of 'em are already finding a home in the set. I'm sure if you've seen me live any time since early January, you've heard "Garbageman."
We're all familiar with a blessing that turns to a curse. Cliche enough because we've all experienced it. Recently I was in the interesting position of having a curse turn into a blessing. I had no idea until the whole deal was done and I could look at it with perspective. Here's what all happened.
Back in September 2008 I attended Ryan Fitzsimmons' wedding in Skaneateles, NY. Having no commitments on that Sunday, I decided to stay off the I-90, avoid the hefty toll and have an easy ride home on Rt. 5 & 20.
Well, I screwed up big time. With the way the speed limits goes from 30 to 55 to 45 to 55 to 45 to 25 and so on, I spaced, missed some signs and got pulled over while driving 50 in a 30. So much for avoiding that hefty toll. I was in court a couple weeks later on October 9 which turned out to be nothing more than an arraignment.
At my arraignment the justice informed me of something I thought I would have to defend: that I have a clean driving record. She further suggested that I should return to discuss this with the District Attorney. I was informed that the D.A. was only available on the second and fourth Wednesdays of the month. We considered our calendars and picked Wed. Nov. 26 - the day before Thanksgiving. Court would be in session and I would be in New York State. Perfect.
Then I got a letter. Ten days before this perfect court date, I was informed that the court building was moving and that all trials are being rescheduled. The date I was then given was Wed. Dec. 10. Not perfect. I had a gig booked in Rockville, MD.
I wrote a letter to the justice that I carbon copied to the D.A. I explained that with the economy being as it is some of my shows have been cancelled recently and that I could not afford just two weeks before Christmas to cancel a show and drive from Annapolis, MD to Seneca Falls, NY.
The DA you'll remember is only available the 2nd and 4th Wednesdays of the month. The 4th Wednesday of December was Christmas Eve. No court. I was going to be down south all of January and most of February. Would it be possible, being that this has already gone on a bit, to schedule me for the fourth Wednesday of February?
It turns out that while the justice and D.A. did read my letter, it was the court clerk who booked the make up date. I spoke with her on the phone. I'll spare you the dialog and share that this woman will not be winning any awards for public relations. She was aggressive and abrasive with me from the moment I noted my reason for calling. I ultimately had to ask her "Ma'am, have I done something to offend you?"
Despite my politeness in explaining my schedule and regardless of my letter, the court clerk upon my calling on the morning of Dec. 10 as she instructed me to do made my court date Wed. Feb. 11. I would be in Memphis, TN. The only possible way to make the court date in Seneca Falls would be to fly. Wonderful.
Check back later and I'll tell ya all about how the curse was a blessing.
~ gK ~
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Fifth Letter to You of 2009
Checking the price on an airline ticket has never been easier. Knowing that I would be in Memphis and would have to fly back to NY to appear in traffic court in February, I got online in late December and looked at prices.
It was amazing to me that flying from Memphis to Buffalo was $200 more expensive than flying from Nashville to Buffalo. This may have had to do with the airline I chose, I'm not sure. Whatever the case, I didn't buy a ticket that first look at prices.
Two days later when I saw that prices had gone up by thirty bucks, I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to do this now or else pay a lot more than it already felt worth. Using my credit card, I paid just under two bills for a flight from Nashville to Buffalo. From Buffalo, I would borrow a vehicle and drive to Seneca Falls - 110 miles east.
With no gigs in February, I was feeling pretty bruised by having to fly home for a court date that just as easily could have been scheduled for two weeks later when I would have been able to just drive down the road sans this flying business. It made way more sense to roll with the hand I was dealt than to wallow in the what ifs. I boarded a plane in Nashville at 11am Central time on Tuesday. I landed in Buffalo after 3pm Eastern that same day. Then, returned to Tennessee the next night after 10pm Central after my court appearance.
Tuesday night was really wonderful. It started out simply with getting a haircut from mom. I was looking pretty ragged and mom cuts my hair. Has most my life. Probably will until she can't stand or see or breathe. Even if she can't see I'll probably roll with it. It's mom. If there's anything I've learned from the friends whose parents have died, it's that you take in every moment you can with your folks while they're still here. Mom cuts my hair.
Later that night, I walked around the block and ate dinner with my brother-in-law and hung out with my nephew until my sister returned from running errands. Then, we all watch a stupid movie together. I didn't care about the movie in any way other than it was time spent with my sister, her husband and their son. Then, I returned to my parents' home and slept.
At 5:30am, my dad knocked at my door. By 6am, I had waken, put on my suit and eaten a quick breakfast. Then, dad drove me to Seneca Falls. He volunteered. I accepted.
If I call my dad right now, the conversation will likely go something like this: he'll say hello; I respond in kind; he'll ask how I am; I'll tell him; he'll inform me of the weather in Buffalo; I'll smile and nod; he'll say "here's your mother." Mom will talk to me for 8 days. Now, there have been times when my father talks a lot on the phone, but these are rare.
At 6 in the morning driving into the sunrise to go to traffic court, the man is a jabber jaw. Dad talked about everything under the sun. It was not like most of the time I've spent with him as an adult. It was fantastic.
On the ride home from court hours later, he would once again drive. We would once again talk the whole time. We stopped before getting on the Interstate for coffee and a bagel (he had the coffee, I had the bagel). We stopped again 30 miles shy of home to visit his 90 year old mother at her current residence. I made the suggestion. I'm sure that she don't remember it, but it meant a lot to my dad.
Court, in brief, was this: I signed in, my file came up in the docket, the D.A. called my name and I stood before him.
"How are you today?"
"Well, to be honest, I had to fly up here from TN and I'm a bit anxious."
"You were driving 50 in a 30. What was the hurry?"
"Honestly, sir, I wasn't in a hurry. A friend got married the night before and I was driving home waiting on my sister to deliver her child. I more less had all the time in the world."
"Greg, in New York State, 20 over the limit is five points on your licence and your insurance will double for the next 18 months. You have a clean driving record. I'm going to allow you to keep it. This will become a parking ticket - that's a non-moving violation - so there will be no points and you will have to pay a fine."
"Thank you, sir." Contain excitement.
I appeared before the judge who remembered me from October. We had a witty little exchange that I can share with you in person some time. I was fined $150 and no surcharge for the cost of court.
If I had not appeared in court, my insurance would have doubled for a year and a half. That would have created an increase in my expenses in excess of $1,300. The flight plus the fine totalled $350. The financial part of this worked out amazing well compared to what my worst case scenarios had dreamed up.
The fact that
flying in afforded me a visit with my mom and dad, my niece and nephew,
my brother, sister, brother-in-law and grandma, a home-cooked meal, a
haircut and four plus hours of conversation with my dad makes $350 seem
like a bargain. And to think, all the while leading up to it I was just
so burned about that bitch of a court clerk who had discounted my request
for a date I would be in state. It turned out that flying home for court
in Seneca Falls was the best thing to happen to me all year.
~ gK ~
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Sixth Letter to You of 2009
The past couple of weeks have been full of some fun adventure. City Museum in St. Louis is something that everyone I know should experience. Please, let me be your tour guide. Maybe we can rent a bus. We'll start in Boston, pick up friends in NY, PA and OH along the way and make a weekend of it.
Well now, if we're going to rent a bus, let's flesh this idea out a little. How 'bout we hang in St. Louis, but then we can travel farther west to Eureka Springs, AR, north from there to Lupus, MO and then on to Pomeroy, IA? I'll play shows, we'll dance and then travel back east. Who out there knows how to take care of this bus renting business?
This is a seriously fun time waiting to happen. Where do we rent this bus? How much would it cost per person? When's a good time a year for such a trip?
Friend, I was just in Pomeroy for the first time since 2003. Last time around I had recently met Byron in a moment of profound luck at my first Todd Snider concert. After a couple years of hearing "You must be into Todd Snider" and not really having a clue who Todd was, I finally saw him at the M Shop in Ames, IA in 2002. I walked in, set down and found myself next to Byron. Very good luck indeed.
Now, here we are in 2009. The Rust Belt Vagabond Spring Tour is two weeks in with two weeks to go. Following a show in Columbus with the Shaw Brothers and Eric Nassau, the van rolled onto St. Louis. A little cafe show earlier that night set the stage for an evening of fun. First swing dancing to a gypsy jazz trio at a speakeasy. Then, the City Museum. Ask me about it in person.
Shows in Reeds Spring and Lupus, Missouri finished out week one and got me all warmed up for a long awaited return to Minneapolis and St. Paul. Attendance was light, but once again the hang was worth the trip.
Man, David Stoddard, Charlie Roth and I played a songwriter in the round show at the Ginkgo Coffeehouse in St. Paul. With Charllie on guitar, rack mounted harmonica and kazoo as well as his stomp box, Dave playing guitar, accordion and piano, me on guitar, mandolin, harmonica and a little piano as well and all of us singing, we were a pretty hot band for a writer in the round. Check out Dave and Charlie live sometime... or online!
Our Story Studio in Fairmont, Minnesota is another gem of this tour. Three stories of cool in a fairly unlikely locale. I was sure the proprietors had ended up in Fairmont after moving out of some big city. I was wrong. Both Jeff and Denise were from right there in Fairmont and what a destination they have created. I can not wait to play there again and would love to have some time to visit for a movie night.
From Fairmont I returned to Pomeroy where Byron's hospitality remains unmatched. Byron LOVES live music and has brought some of his faves from all over the country to his hometown. My friend has nurtured the live music scene in his bar with all that love. All the listeners sit right up in front in Pomeroy.
I'm two weeks in with two weeks to go. I haven't blown out my voice yet and haven't been breaking strings neither. Over the next 14 days I'll play 9 more shows and a couple radio spots culminating in a return to the Ark in Ann Arbor where I open for John McCutcheon on Sunday April 26. Hope t' see you out there before it's all through.
Thanks for
checking in. Stop by again soon!
~ gK ~
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Seventh Letter to You of 2009
I'm in Michigan looking forward to playing shows in Lawton, Old Town Lansing and Ann Arbor. Earlier this week I played in Rogers City up there 'round Thunder Bay. They don't know it's spring there yet, but the rest of the state is hip.
Driving south from Rogers City, I was blessed with the flight of a bald eagle. I've been in a bit of a fog the past couple of days with all the driving and early wake up calls. I think I was on M-32 at the time. There it was gliding across the highway. I had business to attend to and no time for stopping. It was the first time I'd ever seen one. At first I wondered "Was that a bald eagle?" Then it hit me: what else could it be? I've seen pictures and nothing else looks like that. There's no mistaking the site. Amazing.
I'm down to the last three shows of the Rust Belt Vagabond Spring Tour 2009. It's been 3 to 5 shows a week for the past three and a half weeks. I'm holding up, but can certainly use some down time and solid rest. Soon, I'll be back in Buffalo for five days. I'm looking forward to a home cooked meal and time with my niece and nephew. Maybe a haircut too. Your narrator is looking a little shaggy at this point.
Have you seen the May/June issue of Dirty Linen magazine yet? I haven't seen it myself, but understand there's mail fom Dirty Linen waiting for me at home. Without being seen live in concert, I was interviewed in early January. So, the article will be based almost entirely on that conversation.
I do not enjoy being interviewed mostly because I feel I suck at them but also because I've never had interesting answers to stock questions like "How old are you?" and "What are your influences?" When you answer "Grandpa" to that second one, the interviewer laughs. Then presses further waiting for you to utter something like Willie Nelson or Steve Earle.
It's great news to have exposure like this in a major magazine. With Rust Belt Vagabond still being a new release and the coming live album, the timing couldn't be better. I just bought ad space in Dirty Linen for July through October to get the word out about the coming live CD.
Things are
moving along nicely with the recording. I've heard the mix and all the
edits are complete. Now, I have some behind the scenes work to do, like
getting in touch with the Harry Fox Agency about my cover of "My
Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys." The album will have to be mastered
and graphics designed. With any luck, the long-talked-about live album
will be out by the end of summer.
~ gK ~
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Eighth Letter to You of 2009
Have I mentioned just how much I love Boston? I don't know if there's room on the Internet to express it. I had been away for seven months when I returned in March and wondered a lot: how could I have been away from here for seven months?
Following the Rust Belt Vagabond Spring Tour, I was back in Boston for six days. The time flew by and now I'll be gone again until September. I have to talk with my booking agent about this bid'ness. I do believe absence is making my heart grow fonder.
In 2008, I was in town for the Boston Independence Exchange (BIX). My word playing self believes it should be Boston Independance Exchange. Quirky ol' me. You can learn about what all just went down by visiting their website: www.dancebix.com
Ya see, I've enjoyed swing dancing for quite awhile. Initially, solely as a spectator. Over the past couple of years, as a participant. In Boston, I fell in with the dance community. It's been a wonderful relationship. I've learned a lot and not just about dancing.
This year, I knew that I'd only be in town for one night of BIX and I was pretty busy.
On Friday May 8, I had a show at the Me and Thee Coffeehouse in Marblehead. It was a fine show and I was happy to be a part of it for sure. It did mean though that I'd have to miss the early dance at BIX. However, there was a late night - midnight to 4am - that I could make... Hmmm? Let me think this through...
With the concert in Marblehead on Friday night and then a May 9th gig 350 miles away in Phoenixville, PA opening for the Kennedys, the only way to make this all work would be to drive to the dance post Me and Thee concert around midnight, dance for a couple hours; then around 3:30am leave the dance and drive some of the distance to PA, sleep in my van at a rest stop in CT and finish the drive on Saturday.
Yeah, that sounds good. I'll do that.
As if being at the dance wouldn't have been enough, there was this fab bonus to being there. I heard a fun story from my friend Guy. Here's how I remember it:
Guy had spring break and decided he was going to take a road trip. He looked at the map and plotted out a route. From Boston, he drove down through Connecticutt stopping in NYC, Philly and some cities in Maryland and Virginia before turning north and heading to Pittsburgh. That was the trip.
In Pitt, Guy asked himself whether to turn east back toward Boston or call that friend in Canada and meet up somewhere being that he was so close. He opted for the latter, called his friend and they decided to meet somewhere halfway - Buffalo.
With no knowledge of Buffalo, but traveling with a GPS, Guy left it to his friend to decide on the meeting place. She gave him an address. He entered it into his navigator gadget and set out for the city I was born in expecting to land in front of a cafe, bookstore or bar.
Instead, upon his arrival in what he described as "the middle of nowhere Buffalo, NY" my friend found himself in front of a thrift store. An AMVETS. "What the?"
Guy's friend wanted to hang out and buy some dance clothes. So, they sorted through the racks. She found things. He found things. Then, realizing they had not explored the rest of the store, they began to inspect a variety of items. I can not recall it all. Somewhere in there they happened upon something of a gremlin or gnome.
Okay, enough of that. The adventure moved over to the cassettes. Guy figured they might chance upon some good blues. They could buy a tape, drive someplace, play the cassette and have a dance. I like the way he thinks.
Now imagine if you will a man rummaging through the cassettes and not finding any satisfying booty. Pick up a cassette... no. Others... no. Still another... what's this?
"Greg Klyma"
Guy found a cassette circa 1993 with my name on it. A homemade tape he says. Someone had drawn flowers on the label. No songs listed on the index.
My band released our first album (CD only) in 1995. Our second was out in 1996 on CD and Cassette. In 1993, 1994, the only thing I can think this could be is a tape I made for a friend or a tape someone recorded at a party. Or, hmmm? I did those demos at BCMK, but that would haven't homemade looking. As he shared this with me I laughed and probably moreso cringed.
I haven't seen it. I'm not really sure I want to hear it. I only learned to actually sing a couple of years ago. It's got to be horrendous.
Charmingly
horrendous, that is.
~ gK ~
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Ninth Letter to You of 2009
The live album that was recorded on March 29 in Buffalo at Sportsmen's Tavern is now mixed and mastered. Next step: getting the graphics designed. Then, off to the manufacturer. I'll keep ya posted on progress. For those interested in ordering in advance of release, I'll be figuring out details as the summertime approaches. If you're already receiving emails from me by way of ReverbNation, you'll be the first to get the scoop.
For now, I'm here at the Kerrville Folk Festival. It's just about 5am as I compose this. The day is a blur. Honestly, the weeks are as well. Lots of song circles. Plenty of jamming. So much to take in. Love. Friendship. Hugs. Songs. My Kerr cup is overflowing.
I've written a couple of songs. One that I can hardly remember. One that I can not stop playing. As much as songs and songwriting are the focus of this wonderful 18 day event, it is challenging to actually write while on the ranch. There's so much going on all around and finding a quiet space is damn near impossible. Even at 5am.
Aberration: I spent much of the day off the ranch. My friend Claude "Butch" Morgan invited me to play a show in San Antonio. We, along with BettySoo and Bruce Balmer, rolled south in Butch's van where we met up with Ken Gaines at Sam's Burger Joint. The five of us play 20-minutes each and then finished the evening with 2 songs a piece.
I played my new song for the first time at a show. It takes reps to get these things down. With all the practice around the campfires, I actually felt like I nailed it. A good feeling with a new song. Very vulnerable to share these things.
Here at the festival about a week ago, David Glaser played a Guy Clark song called "Dublin Blues." The third verse is my favorite:
I have
been to Fort Worth
I have been to Spain
I have been to proud
To come in out of the rain
I have seen the David
I've seen the Mona Lisa too
I have heard Doc Watson
Play Columbus Stockade Blues
It was this verse that jogged my memory. I knew I had heard this before. When David played it at camp, he informed that he had learned it for a gig he was playing with BettySoo. Knowing that she was the origin of my re-acquaintance with this song, I requested that she play it tonight at the gig. She did and dedicated it to me.
After returning to the ranch from San Antonio, I looked for Jonathan Byrd. We did not meet up. I made my way to the Crow's Nest and got the circle started there with Eastside Flash. After awhile, we were joined by Bayard Blain, Johann Wagner, Shannon Wurst, Brian Cutean and others. Eventually, Guy Forsyth made the scene. I was there in my blue corduroy jacket with my black hat still upon my head from the gig.
Regardless
of wardrobe and being in Texas, I was cold. It's rained here some the
past couple of weeks and the evenings are cool. The five to ten minutes
it took you to read this is an hour of me sitting here in the computer's
glow composing it. It's now closing in on 6am and I'm so chilly. It warms
me up a little to sing "I wish I was in Austin, mmm mmm."
~ gK ~
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Tenth Letter to You of 2009
I was recently informed that my letter here claimed that I was still at Kerrville - the Ninth Letter to You. I did linger on the ranch for a couple days following the festival, then had a week of shows in Texas. There then came a week with my computer at the shop, followed by several days of driving north and little time online. Man, I hadn't even given thought to update this thing. Thanks for keeping me honest.
Here I am back on the Net and, having been informed that I'm not at Kerrville, have been thinkin' to myself that, in an esoteric way, I still *am* at Kerrville. Many friends will understand this. Certainly the one who pointed out that I needed to get current with this note and, in particular, Mr. Vern Crawford... it can be this way always.
Ha! Before using "esoteric," I wanted to be sure I was spelling it correctly (your narrator fancies himself a thorough imp). So, I checked in over there at Dictionary.com and was happy to find that I'm a decent speller... at least on this occasion. I like the definition, too:
understood by or meant for only the select few who have special knowledge or interest
You surely have to have experienced Kerrville to understand why I might feel that in a way I am still there. A way meant for only the select few who have the special knowledge.
Ya know, I generally dig on synonyms, but I'm not sure "cabalistic," "abstruse," "recondite" and "hermetic" could replace "esoteric" in my earlier sentence (though, "arcane" might work). I really don't believe I've obtained a cabalistic knowledge hanging out on the ranch. There is nothing abstruse about this statement.
I'm undermotivated and there is business to be done.
I need to read a contract. I need to buy two more tires for my van (a story for another time). I need to take care of obtaining mechanical licenses for the live album. I need to figure out advance orders for the live album. I need to post some tracks from the live album on reverbnation. I need to book more gigs in the northeast. I need to acquire a plane ticket (can you help?). I need to spend more time with my niece and nephew (avuncular yearnings). I need to finish one of the books I've started. I need to dance a two step and a waltz. I need to learn more synonyms.
It's so difficult...
speaking esoterically.
~ gK ~
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Eleventh Letter to You of 2009
This summer has been a slow one here in the Klyma camp. I keep hearing about this - what are they're calling it? - economic slow down (aka recession). I've talked with other touring musicians and everyone seems to be having similar experience: fewer gigs than last year. So, we find other ways to keep ourselves busy, productive, creative, et cetera.
For those of you who are avid users of Facebook, there is now a Greg Klyma fan page for your social networking pleasure:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Greg-Klyma/211169460522?ref=s
My friend Kim is the administer of the page. She's great and I'm grateful. I'm personally maxxed out with web activity here maintaining this site, emailing what needs emailed and blogging on MySpace. That's my treshold. Weak, I know, but so be it. I'd rather be outside most of the time or practicing an instrument.
So you know, I'll be keeping in touch with Kim and having a role in some of the content on Facebook. Mostly it's there for y'all to enjoy. I hope you will. Carry on, friends!
Things being as they are, I have been reevaluating lately and coming to some conclusions about my touring schedule. This is the leitmotif of my past half decade. I've made similar observations previously only to stubbornly ignore my own conclusions. Now, there is decidedly more gold on one side of the scale than the other shifting the balance with a clear eye on the northeast.
From late March of this year through mid-May, I was working a lot. In April alone I had three to five shows a week. This happened, mind you, because in January and February I had so few gigs that I could spend all that time working the phone and email. And while the recession is a handy excuse, I know well that because I was so busy with gigs in April, that I slacked off on pursuing a solid summer schedule. It's a matter of focus and I may very well have adult onset ADD. Ha!
This process goes deeper than any of this business though.
My brother and sister have made me an uncle squared (hopefully not a square uncle). My avuncular desire to witness the children growing, support their parents and be more active in the children's development is at odds with being gone two to three months at a stretch.
My folks are now in their mid-sixties. My parents' parents mostly all died in their late seventies and early eighties with one exception. I hear in long-distance conversations about the work being done around the house and how they could really use my help. I selfishly consider beyond this what I would like to experience with them in this time of their lives while their minds are still sharp and their bodies able.
Gigs in Somerville and Cambridge, MA have been great. The swing dancing community in Boston is amazing. The fact that I can walk everywhere I want to go is a big turn on and there is no shortage of things to do seven nights a week. I have many friends across the country and don't wish to diminish anyone by saying this but I realize that I'm really part of a community in Boston in a way that I miss just about everywhere else, including Buffalo.
Then there's the fact that I've fallen in love. Bang! I've posted it on the Internet. My last relationship ended in the late spring of 2006 and I have been plenty guarded these past three years, dear reader. With my shield firmly in place, she snuck up from behind like a ninja, grabbed hold of my heart and declared ownership. When she gets scared, she says she don't want that kind of power. I don't want to pick up that heavy fucking shield.
When we next share time together, it will have been six and a half weeks between visits. Between hugs, kisses and two-step dances. It doesn't make sense to me anymore. Maybe it never made any sense. Maybe I'm just really slow on the uptake.
I've been in perpetual motion for eleven years. I have made a lot of friends on the road and love returning to so many places. A time or two along the way, I have found love and made a go of a relationship. I've been supported in full by my family. I have acknowleged time and again how very lucky I am. It's time to be more available to the ones that love me the most. It's time to accept what I have learned along the way.
I can still tour and still will. I just need to figure out a different model. I'm thinking out loud and may change my mind. You may not hold me to any of this. It just seems as I sit here in Denver wishing I was 2000 miles east that I could be living a more fulfilled life if I flipped my schedule to be home for a month or three at a time and on the road two to three weeks at a time instead of the reverse.
That's it outta
me for now. Thanks for checking in on me. Hope to see ya soon.
~ gK ~
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Twelfth Letter to You of 2009
The first time I looked at the clock this morning it informed "5:27 am." My usual response to this is simply to think that it cannot be correct, followed by rolling over and falling back asleep. Today it was met with math - it's 7:27 in New York.
Greetings from Montana. The state nickname is "Big Sky." Tilt your head back here any given evening and it's easy enough to see why. I'm spending a week in mountain time on "vacation" visiting with a long-time friend.
After laying in bed for an hour, I accepted that sleep would not return. I have no good reason for why I was awake so early. This had its own reward. The evening is not the only time to be amazed by Montana. Turns out, morning is pretty spectacular too.
Digial pictures of this scene taken with a phone are like listenning to MP3s of a symphony. I'm up in the mountains surrounded by breathtaking beauty on all fronts. I was sitting on porch this morning looking to the west watching the sun illuminate a pasture as fog and cloud cover hovered above the mountains. I've sat for hours watching it change. Without a moment to point to and say "That's when it happened," the morning grayness dissipated, the sky became blue and the whole world was flooded with light.
I am surrounded
by beauty and far from it. I am in love with this place I have been welcomed
to and counting down the days till I will drive away from it. I want to
be sharing in a moment that is mine to receive.
~ gK ~
ps. here's
the link to the Greg Klyma fan page on FaceBook:.
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Greg-Klyma/211169460522?ref=s
pps. Thanks Kim!
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Thirteenth Letter to You of 2009
I hate litter. I really hate when I get to the end of an exit ramp, look at the side of the road and see all the cigarette butts disgarded there. Pigs. I was in Arkansas in July in a National Forest. People leave emptied soda cans and plastic bottles everywhere. Sad.
That's not what I came here to write about though. I came here to write about kindness and those people ya meet when you get stung by a yellow jacket.
In my youth, I got stung by mean insects often. When I was a child - let's just say around 6 years old - I recall I got stung by a wasp. I'm not sure what I exclaimed when it happened. I hadn't learned the word fuck yet nor its multiplicity of uses. Let's just say I yelled out "mom!" or perhaps "owwwwwww!"
At the time, there was a couple renting from my parents in the upstairs apartment of the house I grew up in. The woman was a nurse. I only vaguely remember this. What I remember clearly is that she was home and came to my aid.
She slapped a mud pack on my little arm. Kind of cool. I'm not saying I remember thinking "kind of cool" but I have to believe that any six year old, particularly a boy, is going to be impressed with anything that involves purposefully slapping mud on oneself. I do have a recollection of a huge bump on my arm. Enormous!
I was picking pears at my mom's mother's house once as a teen. A yellow jacket landed on my face. I was on a ladder. Yellow jackets are agressive. That one stung me on the cheek. No mud that time. I recall a pack of baking soda being smeared on my face.
Up until a couple of days ago, I couldn't tell you the last time I'd gotten stung by anything other than mosquitos. Skeeters come to me with the same regard that the super morbidly obese give to the all you can eat buffet at Golden Corral. Bees, wasps, hornets and the like have all left me alone for years.
So, there I was a couple days ago sitting near the Hudson River talking to my mom on my cell phone. I didn't have coverage at the house I was staying in, but discovered that I had full reception at that river. Like I need an excuse to walk down to a river on a sunny day.
Well, next thing ya know, I lean back and...
At first I bit my teeth. Then I made some muffled noises (mom's first thought was that I was being mugged). Then I just yelled out "arghhhh." Again the question "What's wrong?" and at last the response "I got stung by a fucking bee!!" It actually wasn't a bee, but this was a triffling detail to get hung up on at the time.
We hung up.
I crossed the tracks of some high speed trains and knelt down by the Hudson. I plunged my left wrist into the water knowing well this was not Lourdes. I was trying to make a mud pack with my free right hand, but there's just a lot of stone on the banks, no dirt. In the seconds I was realizing how futile it would be to cup my hands and make repeated trips with water back across the train tracks, I spied a discarded 7 UP bottle (or was it Sprite?) there in the grass. Fucking littering pigs.
I filled the bottle with water and took it across the tracks. There I was able to make a good thick mud pack and cool my stung arm. After wiping my right hand on my jeans, I scooped up my notebook, hat and phone and started up the road to knock on a door or two remembering the baking soda remedy.
Despite the noise I could hear from inside, no one answered the first door I rapped upon. Then, I saw a little up a hill a couple walking groceries into their home:
"Hey there! (they turned to see) I was just stung by a yellow jacket and I was wondering (I stopped walking toward them now about 75 feet away) if you might have some baking soda that I could use to make a pack for this thing?"
They weren't sure, but they were willing to check. Turned out they did. I was now outside their door and sat as they brought out a little water in a plastic container, some Arm & Hammer, a spoon and some paper towel. They did seem a little apprehensive of this encounter at first. A feeling that made more sense to me when I learned in conversation that they had recently moved there from New York City.
We got to talking and I learned they are in theater. They were hoping to start a network for themselves in regional theater. This was interesting because the person I was visiting is (among other talents) an actress who is currently performing in a production of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Here I had approached them a stung man. There I was networking on behalf a local theater. Ya just never know.
~ gK ~
ps. a recent WORD OF THE DAY selection at Dictionary.com was bowdlerize. This letter was not bowdlerized.
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Fourteenth Letter to You of 2009
August was a varied month here in Camp Klyma, rife with bouts of insomnia and a long pause between good shows. It began in Montana and ended more less in Canada. September on through the year's end brings the promise of more activity, but for now, a little reflection on the month gone by.
I woke up August 1 in Livingston, MT, having just spent a week there. What a beautiful place. In that last week a July, a friend and I canoed on the Yellowstone River where we were blessed with the presence of an immature bald eagle at one turn and a fully mature bald eagle later down the course. Surrounded by the beauty of the Absaroka Mountains, having visited Yellowstone National Park in WY and being blessed with generous, entertaining, intelligent and engaging friends, it just didn't make any sense to be sad in this place. I was having a melt down.
That night, August 1, I played a house concert. All my friends attended and many of their friends attended. The house was full of good energy and good food. My host for the preceding week, the poet Marc Beaudin, opened the concert with a performance of his work. Then I played a set and got showered with love. It was the first show that felt like a show in over a month and a half. I'm a performer. I was doing what I love for people who appreciated it. The mysterious sadness I'd been experiencing lifted all away.
Following the pack up, I set out east. It's roughly 1,900 miles from Livingston to Buffalo. I wished to be home before my parents took off on a vacation that Tuesday. I drove 200 miles following the concert. On Sunday, I woke in MT, drove through ND, MN and WI into IL. It was now Monday and I was in the central time zone wanting to make it past Chicago. It wasn't in the cards. After 17 hours of driving, I fell asleep in a service area north of the city. I'd have to face morning rush hour.
I woke up that Monday with a pack of bikers surrounding my van and one sitting on my back bumper. That was new. I got out of my van, answered nature's call and did a little stretching before getting into it. "It" being Chicago traffic. I was approximately 1,200 miles into my journey and feeling driven, but morning rush hour was something I would have preferred to avoid and it was now drizzling. If only I had eaten a few more chocolate covered espresso beans the night before.
My visit to Buffalo was a blink. I saw my parents briefly, had supper that Tuesday night with my brother's family and then went to a networking event on Wednesday night before driving another 350 miles east. I'm in love. Leaving Buffalo at 10pm and driving until 4am was no problem. It was the easiest part of the whole drive.
What happens over the next 8 days is my business. Mostly it was great, but some outside factors played a role and your narrator was leaving earlier than he wished to. This occurrence of leaving created an interesting opportunity: I had learned only two days earlier that my high school class reunion was taking place that Saturday August 15. It's not something I would have gone out of my way to attend, but there I was on my way back to Cheektowaga and it was happening a mile away from home.
I had fun. I didn't expect to not have fun, but I hardly expected to have it, ya know. I just figured there'd be a lot of perfunctory social behavior going on: I see some people I hadn't seen in years, find out a few factoids about their lives and go home. I was there for hours and really enjoyed myself. It was really wonderful to see so many people doing so well in their lives. Everyone I engaged with was really happy.
More than a couple of times at the reunion, I said hello to someone while reading a name tag. More than a couple of times that night after I introduced myself, I was informed that I didn't look like me. Odd, I thought I looked exactly like me. In fact, through every haircut, facial growth, wardrobe phase and on, I have always looked just like me.
In the week that followed, I had a few conversations with my love. She had more going on in her life all at once than... man! Okay, just imagine one of those professional jugglers with 8 objects of various weights being tossed in the air while riding on a unicycle. It was kind of like THAT for her. I was sympathetic and understanding, but missing her like crazy and our communication dwindled. For me, insomnia kicked in.
I was giving myself all kinds of tasks to do around my parents house. I cleaned in the backyard, I built a lean-to for the mowers, I stacked some wood, I cleaned in the basement... I stayed busy and tried to physically exhaust myself, which I did. My body's need for rest was rivaled by my brain's insistence on staying awake. By thinking too much. By creating scenarios. By filling in blanks better left barren. Ya know, if you're awake all the time and a seed is planted, it just grows and grows and grows.
Then, there was Canada. I was presented the opportunity to open for Fred Eaglesmith in Toronto at Hugh's Room. A great venue and Fred sold it out. I played 20 minutes and killed. Considering my pay for the evening (zero dollars), it was great that I sold a bunch of CDs. I could do this with a clear conscience because I had done everything on the level at the border. That experience though brought something to my attention that was long out of my mind - my arrest in Colorado in October 1998. The disposition of my case was not in the national computer system. To quote Ricky Ricardo, I had some splainin' to do.
And a task to attend to when I got home... four days later.
The encounter at the border is a good story. I'm already using part of it in my show. With time, it'll either fall naturally away making way for new stories and experiences, or I'll just write a song about it all when it's been processed.
After playing something of a house concert in Cambridge, ON, I headed up to Pefferlaw for the Eaglewood Folk Festival. THAT was SO fun. A ton of great acts, lots of good songs, wonderful people and sacred grounds. I came back into the states feeling healthier for having attended the festival. My August was closing and had come full circle. I woke up September 1st and drove 350 miles east. I woke up Tuesday morning with my love in my arms. I slept soundly through the night.
~ gK ~
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Fifteenth Letter to You of 2009
October! How did it get here so fast? Where has it gone? So much has happened. As I stare down the final week of Autumn's star month, I recall what a fine time I've been having.
This month started out with a 10-day long tour that got reduced to 5 days in lieu of a last minute cancelation. I was on my way from the Lupus Chili Festival to Eureka Springs, AR to play a show at Chelsea's - the fourth anniversary of my first show at Chelsea's - when I got a call from Memphis: a part-time bartender at Memphis Mary's had died at age 30 from an aneurysm; there would be no show on Thursday. I played Eureka and drove home to Buffalo for an unplanned visit with my family. It was odd luck, but I was it took me to the place I needed to be.
On the way west from Tivoli, NY where I had played the last Tuesday of September at the Black Swan, I stopped in State College, PA for a night on route to Columbus, OH, where the tour would begin on Oct. 1. While visiting with friends in PA that night, I got to talking about mandolins with my friend, the mighty mighty Wiggus; long story short, I ended up purchasing a Pomeroy mandolin that he found for me online at MandolinCafe.com. I wouldn't see the instrument for two weeks. It was worth the wait. Now, I just can't wait to play it for ya.
In late September I got a phone call from Joe Crookston. Joe's a stellar songwriter and makes every show a spiritual experience. The call came as something of a surprise. He had a festival gig in Montour Falls, NY, saw from my schedule that I wasn't booked on Oct. 10 and wanted to know if I'd like to be in the band that night. I said I would definitely like to be in the band. Joe mailed me a CD that I picked up in Lupus.
I listened to it four or five times on the drive from Eureka Springs back to Buffalo. Then at home, played along with it a couple times. I was ready for the gig. I played with the hope and goal that Joe would like what I brought to the stage enough to want to have me on other gigs with him. It was really wonderful at the end of Saturday night's band gig when Joe asked me if I'd like to join him the following night at a house concert. Again, yes!
When the middle of October rolled around, I was still waiting to see my new mandolin. It had been shipped to Wiggus and met with his approval. That meant it met with my approval too, as I trust Wiggus implicitly with such things. The mando was now to be shipped to me, but that Monday was Columbus Day. It took three days to get to where I had been, shipping out on Tuesday. It arrived about four hours after I had left for Canada on Thursday. I would have to wait four more days.
In Ottawa, I had a glorious time. Partly for a visit with Dana Price. Partly for attending the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals where I got to hang with long-time friends like Jonathan Byrd and Joe Jencks, as well as make new musical friends like Karyn Ellis and Coco Love Alcorn. Karyn's CD, EVEN THOUGH THE SKY WAS FALLING, is my newest favorite album ever. I listened to it four times on the drive home from the conference. I've listened to it another 10 times before writing this.
The Undesirables - Corin Raymond and Sean Cotton - played a killer showcase set at OCFF. It should have been listed in the program as a workshop on how to showcase. Thirty minutes of "that's how you do that." I was inspired by it. On Oct. 23 when I played a 30-minute opener set for Beaucoup Blue at the Steel City Coffeehouse in Phoenixville, PA, I wrote out my set list with the Undesirables in mind. The owner invited me back, a bunch of people signed up on my mailing list and I sold some merch. Thanks guys!
Now as October is coming to a close, I find myself once again in Boston. I love it here. I spend most of my time in Somerville and Cambridge. I played on Sunday night at the Burren. I'll be playing on Halloween Eve at the Lizard Lounge as part of a triple bill with Ryan Fitzsimmons Band and Baker Thomas. It's a wonderful line up of greatly talented friends. I'll have my new mando ready to plug in. Oh man, oh man!
All the beautiful foliage is falling from the trees now. Soon enough, winter will be here. I'll make a little escape to the southwest when January comes. In the meatime, it's long johns and sweaters. The only thing I don't mind about the northeast cold is the opportunity it presents to warm things up. See you at a show, my friend.
~ gK ~
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Sixteenth Letter to You of 2009
Wednesday night, November 4, in Buffalo was really great. I played WBFO 88.7fm On the Border's Wednesday night Concert Series in Allen Hall on the UB South Campus. The theatre is a beautiful space. A number of friends and family made the scene and filled the auditorium with claps, laughter and yelps.
I listened back to the audio online and was surprised that the audience mic didn't capture the room as I remembered the experience. Like, when I played "Add a Little Love" the audience clapped through the whole song. It's hard to pick up on that, but it happened. They're clapping on the back beat with my stomping foot:
http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/wbfo/.jukebox?action=viewPodcast&podcastId=9603
There are also photos from that night posted here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/wbfo/4077500361/in/set-72157622739710270/
I haven't listened back to the whole show and probably won't. I'm too self-critical. I know the spots that will make me cringe. So, avoidance. On the whole, it was good as I recall. If you missed the broadcast, or were there and would like to relive it, enjoy the links above.
My calendar has filled up nicely going into the close of 2009. It starts with a bang in TX in 2010. I'm looking to record a new studio album next year and still have that DVD project in the cooker. If I could learn how to publish a book, I may get around to that collection of lyrics, stories and blogs that I've had in mind for a while.
Thanks for checking in on me. Gotta cut this one short and get in the van, my friend. See you at the shows!
~ gK ~
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Seventeenth Letter to You of 2009
Are you a coffee drinker?
The Fair Trade Coffee Company sponsors the Coffee With Conscience Concert Series in Westfield, NJ - a series booked by a friend of mine. This company not only provides the finest in acoustic entertainment on a regular basis -- where net proceeds go to charity -- but also roasts and sells Fair Trade & Organic Certified Coffees from around the world! Tasty on so many levels.
Do you need a stocking stuffer for a coffee drinker in your life? The link is http://www.fairtradecoffee.org
I'm an owner/member of the Lexington Co-Op in Buffalo. I'm a regular at the one in Cambridge. I know which natural foods stores I'll be shopping if I'm in Kingston, NY; Red Hook, NY; Eureka Springs, AR; Montpelier, VT; et cetera. Part of my cost of my food is supporting a local business, keeping the money in the local economy. I'm a fan.
I was at the Lexinton Co-Op in Buffalo on Saturday. I spent close to a hundred dollars on groceries. I'm certain that in a generic grocery store that same money would have bought me a third more food. At a Sam's Club or Costco, it would probably be more product than I alone could use. But what kind of food would it be? Where would the money end up?
I have learned through trial and mostly error over the years that the only sure fire way to make money as a traveling folk musician is to not spend any. So, I'm frugile. I pinch pennies. I drive 55 to save on gasoline costs and walk a lot when I have the option, like in Somerville and Cambridge! Generally speaking, I don't eat out.
When it comes to food, I like buying groceries; when I'm buying my groceries, I like to buy organic food and support the local co-op, which often costs more. Kind of a curious thing, I guess, considering my income. I just know that the food I acquire there is the best I can put in my body. In the absence of health insurance, I consider this preventative maintenance.
My mom's dad always said if you have your health you can always go make a buck. So, I stay as healthy as I can, partly from buying the best foods I can afford. It keeps your local enconomy healthy too. Everyone wins with better food.
~ gK ~
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