Crushing Krisis

Category Archives: lyndzapalooza

Making Music Work: Should You Say Yes To Everything?

Thursday, September 3, 2009

This a post in my new column, “Making Music Work,” where I take a look at the challenges facing local, indie musicians.

As a musician it’s hard to say no. But, should you always say yes?

There are a lot of positives to saying yes. More chances to play, which means more experience and more audience. Networking opportunities. A chance to pad your resume of shows. In the words of actress and singer Ashley Davidson Hughson, “work begets work; you never know who might be in the audience that night.”

Except, playing your music isn’t all about you. It’s about your music. It’s about your fans, both old and new. It’s about the person running the room making a profit. It’s about other acts on the bill getting exposed to a new audience.

With that in mind, when should you say no? I polled my network of professional and amateur performers, and we came up with these major reasons. Continue reading ›

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Hindsight

Friday, May 15, 2009

Can I just put something in perspective for a moment?

My free time has been devoted to event planning on at least a weekly basis since November of 2007. That’s one and a half years of constant event planning.

We spent two months planning our engagement party. Then wedding planning started in the background of planning LP’s There’s a Stage on My Lawn for last May (coming on the heels of my major advertising event at work, which I adore).

Then wedding planning was in the forefront while I background assisted on LP’s Summer Mixer. Towards the end of wedding planning was honeymoon planning, as well as the beginnings of planning LP’s BYM Fest. And, since the wedding it’s been lots of BYM Fest (plus my major advertising event at work, which I still adore).

So, as of Sunday I will be NOT planning an event for the first time in eighteen months.

Wow.

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A Back Yard Music Festival

Friday, May 15, 2009

Six years ago my friend Lindsay had a birthday party with music. With tongue in cheek she called it “Lyndzapalooza.” I carried all of my meager musical equipment down the street to her apartment on my back and we partied to a full day of our friends’ musical talents.

In each of the intervening years Lindsay threw another party, and I helped with each. Starting in 2007 the party become more of a festival – both in execution and atmosphere.

At the moment I am getting dressed to head out to Snipes Farm, where tomorrow Lyndzapalooza (LP) will host their first full-scale musical festival as a recognized non-profit.

In that shift from party to festival, we kept something very important in place: LP is a place to share and listen. The first year people played that had never had a set of their own before – including Gina and I, separately.

Even though our scale is bigger now, the concept remains the same. We’re combining a bill of bands about to get signed with some who’ve never played a show of this scale, and everyone gets hefty, full-length sets. Lindsay, Gina, and I spent the past two weeks interviewing those artists, and each article is an awesome snapshot in the development of a major talent on the Philly scene.

I have different levels of touchy-feely feelings before and after our festivals each year, largely dependent on how many times I skipped lunch, dinner, or sleep leading up to the festival and how many times I feel frustrated, angry, or incapable during the festival.

This year my pre-festival feeling is achievement. As college students we didn’t plan for our musical kegger to transform into a non-profit organization. The us of then could conceive of such a thing, but I don’t think any of us expected it to transpire.

Yet, six years later, here I am inviting you to come out tomorrow to BYM Fest to enjoy ten artists (including our duo Arcati Crisis) playing from 2pm until close to midnight, rain or shine, for just $20.

I think you’ll love it. I think college-us would have loved it, too.

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Philly: Seen on the Scene

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I didn’t do quite as much crazy seenery this past week, but in making it an eight-day week of scenery I made this post extra-long.

Oh, also? I’m an obsessive-compulsive singer/songwriter/lunatic who had kinda forgotten why he was a journalism major.

I quite explicitly did not do any kind of scene seeing over the weekend, save for a brief interlude at K&L’s housewarming party, where every person from every part of my life all collided in one shiny-drunk lump. Seriously, it could have only been odder if my mother was there. Still, much fun had.

Every Wednesday: LP Open Mic @ Intermezzo (3141 Walnut)
Hosting an open mic is a nervous endeavor. Sometimes it seems as though no one will show up, yet you find the lineup extending past closing time. On other occasions the room seems full, but you still wind up vamping for an hour by yourself at the end of the night.

Every Monday: Open Jam @ Connie’s Ric Rac (9th just under Washington)
Take note of this momentous occasion – I went to an open mic that I don’t host for two consecutive weeks. In fact, next week I’ll probably be back for a third.

Why? Because Connie’s Ric Rac is like Cheers with a 1000 watt sound system and a pet snake. Everyone wants to know your name, and they all hush up when you play a quiet song.

I’ve met Matt Teacher once before, and in that venue he was introduced to me as a songwriter, but at present he mostly plays and records with bands in Sine Studios, where he is the owner and engineer along with best friend Mike.

Similar to Gina and I, the two of them connected in the eight grade – with the difference being that they connected as a band right away and knew by high school graduation that they wanted a career in music. They attended college separately and came back together to open Sine Studios. It looks ultra-nifty from their website, and at 22nd and Walnut it’s virtually around the corner from my office .

Matt and I talked about our endless acquisition of recording gear and how in high school I used to sample too low and wind up sounding like The Chipmunks when I tried to burn a CD. Although he was perhaps too humble to mention running Bon Jovi’s protools rig the last time he played Philly, Matt did cop to recording the Sleepwells disc, as well as working with Lickety Split host Dani Mari, and Ric Rac’s house band The Discount Heroes.

When I pressed him as to whether the in-the-family recording roster meant Sine might also be a label, he demurred: “We’re working in that direction.”

Having done some basic flexing of journalistic muscles I thought had permanently atrophied since college, I pushed my luck a bit and asked if I might stop by for a tour sometime. Matt, being awesome, one-upped me and said I should aim to come to one of the studio barbecues over the summer.

I detest making so facile a comparison as to Stevie Wonder, as Aaron Brown’s delivery leaps across the R&B divide to rock in an instant, as on the stuttering 6/8 tune he delivered mid-set (“fragile”?). It’s as if Adam Levine from Maroon 5 could actually sing as well live as he does on the record, and then decided to cover an obscure Rufus Wainwright take on a Stevie Wonder song. That’s what Aaron sounds like.

The great thing about Ric Rac is that it’s got a big stage, complete with amps and a kit. Bands just get up and go. In that vein, I loved loved loved Try Angles – a two-piece playing a blues stomp that I am journalistically required to compare to White Stripes. Except, I actually like Try Angles – there’s meat underneath the riffs, aerobic and thick. A new unfinished song fucking leapt across the stage for our necks in a tangle of blues and prog. And, I DON’T EVEN LIKE THIS KIND OF THING.

I briefly quizzed drummer Adam after their set. What was their deal? How did they compel me to like them so much?

Apparently singer Matt C. has done his singer/songwriter thing for an eternity, but Adam added himself just in September to create their special alchemy. Adam professed love for jazz and Zappa, and I honestly believe they both come through in his skin pounding. Also, he was just a nice dude – when I expanded on my recent wedding he said he wanted to do a dance because I have good music and a good life.

Seriously, Ric Rac is Good People.

(Good lord, can you imagine if I start bringing my laptop to every open mic, going all embedded journalist on all the natives? Can you seriously keep up with a 3000+ word weekly column?)

Tuesday: I took a nap
It was awesome.

Every Wednesday: LP Open Mic @ Intermezzo (3141 Walnut)
Yes, we’ve circled all the way back to Intermezzo, with Gina hosting this iteration.

This week was more of the unexpected – a full house of Lyndzapalooza artists – Gina and I (both solo!), my new client Joshua Popejoy, Aaron Brown (again!), Brian Flanagan (playing awesome new tunes), and John Glaubitz (who we did not manage to tempt to play).

I’ll spare you the rapturous rapture about these guys – they’re all great. They kept our guests pinned to their chairs for the duration of the evening until AC took over to play to a small-but-appreciative crowd of stragglers. We nailed a particularly impressive “Don’t You Want Me” – I was in super-good vocal shape, which I further flaunted by singing an additional solo set of “Like a Virgin,” “Since U Been Gone,” my new “Message,” and an acappella verse and chorus of “Take on Me.”

We closed down the shop with “Noncommittal” and chat of breaking the fourth wall, and headed back to the car.

Coming up!
There are seemingly a thousand shows that I want to see tomorrow night, so I’m thinking you should go to some of the ones I can’t make it to.

Melodic hard-rockers Tremor will be at JR’s bar @ 22nd and Passyunk. Personal favorite Up the Chain splits a bill with The Great Unkown @ JD McGillicuddy’s, 2626 County Line Road in Ardmore. Alexandra Day opens for Kate-fav Carsie Blanton at Barrington Coffee House

As for myself and Gina, we will be installed at the esteemed Ric Rac to catch The Discount Heroes monthly showcase, a stellar bill of Blueberry Magee and His Hot Five, Shackamaxon, and Hezekiah Jones. It’s only $10, rather than the kidney or lung you might expect to contribute to gain entrance into such a show.

Next week I’ll be hitting Ric Rac again on Monday for Katie’s February swan-song, as well as maybe Time at 13th and Sansom on Tuesday, but if I find some ambition I could truck up to The Draught Horse on Temple’s campus to hang out with LP Artist Josh Albright at his new open mic.

Alternately, if you’re free on Tuesday you can head down to The Shubin Theatre at 4th and Bainbridge to catch Gina in a debut reading of a play by Mark Wolverton based on his recent biographical novel A Life in Twilight: The Final Years of J. Robert Oppenheimer.

Then, on Wednesday you should join me at Chris’s Jazz Cafe at Broad & Sansom at 5pm sharp to catch the beautiful and always amazing Alexandra Day play a special happy-hour set, after which you should catch a trolley up to Intermezzo to hit our open mic, as hosted by the girl who put the Lyndz in Lyndzapalooza, Lindsay Wilhelmi.

Finally, a few future plugs: Dante Bucci @ Tin Angel on 3/22. Brian Flanagan playing a set on a bill with our buddies Year Long Day @ Tin Angel on 3/25. The two foremost hang players on earth – one of whom happens to be Dante Bucci, the other being Many Delago – at Milkboy on 4/22.

In other news…

I’ll end with a bit of good news / bad news.

Bad first: we’re actually not doing a show on 2/28 with Joshua Popejoy. It’s slightly disappointing, but it leads to good news: we can promote our amazing seventh annual spring music festival for three entire months without another gig stealing it’s thunder.

So: This year the festival is on Saturday, May 16, and it is called BYMfest (AKA Back Yard Music Festival, an ironic title seeing as this is the first year it will be held at Snipes Farm, rather than an actual back yard). BYMfest will feature eight solid hours of music. So far the lineup includes Arcati Crisis, Joshua Popejoy, Reed Kendall of Up the Chain, Suzie Brown, and Sisters 3.

Honestly, that’s already a bill I would pay dozens of dollars for, and it’s only HALF FULL. Check the Seen on the Scene action next week for further bill announcements, and a presale link where you can buy tickets for $15.

Seriously, I kid you not, $15. That’s a half hour of music for every dollar. You can’t even steal music for that cheap.

Mark your calendar right now. Seriously. Don’t even read the byline until you’ve marked it.

Marked?

Okay.

Peter is a Philadelphia singer-songwriter, half of the band Arcati Crisis, and Director of Communications for Lyndzapalooza (LP).

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Philly: Seen on the Scene

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

This past month I was out of musical commission for as long as I’ve ever been – longer than when I had my tonsils removed, though perhaps not quite as long as when I broke my collarbone (although I have many grimace-inducing memories of propping my back up against the cinder block walls of Calhoun hall so I could leverage my left hand up high enough to fret chords).

In any event, it was a long time without music – from when I came down with bronchitis on January 9th through when I started playing piano again on February 1st.

Three weeks might not sound like a long time to you, but in time without music it’s an eternity, so I’ve been happy to get back to my musical routine this past week.

Every Wednesday: LP Open Mic @ Intermezzo (3141 Walnut)
Last week was my first week back to our open mic after a three week recess, and also a week of my hosting duties.

It turned out to be an evening of great fun. I opened with a trio of tunes so new that I don’t even have lyric links for them yet, let alone recordings, plus a new Beatles cover I had dreamt up on an old guitar the night before.

The turnout for the night was much lighter than usual, which resulted in the open mic becoming an effective round robin of me, Arcati Crisis, Mike from Shackamaxon, and my most-adored band in all of Philadelphia, Blueberry Magee, plus two appearances by our friend and fellow LP Artist Ashley Brandt. All three of the artists on that list are some of my favorites in Philly, and it was wonderful to share an exclusive bill with them for the night.

This week Dante Bucci and his hang drums are the host, but Gina and I will still make an appearance. If you’re around University City between 8pm and 11pm you should drop by.

Thursday: Arcati Crisis Rehearsal!
Okay, not really much of a scene to be seen on, but from our insanity at the open mic it was clear Gina and I were craving a chance to catch up and work on some new material. We picked our next four AC songs (two of which are from my super-new trio from the prior evening), and got most of the way through a guitar arrangement of one of mine – “Better.”

Our arrangement decisions tend to take forever when we’re inside of them, but in retrospect seem like they occurred in a flash. On “Better” we started out moving Gina into different capo positions to find a good interplay against my open progression in E. She wound up on the fourth fret.

At one point in following my chords she fell one chord behind me, and I stopped her and said, “you’re on to something.” Twenty minutes later we had crafted a fanged hook for the song that sounds perfectly at home despite the fact that it is wickedly out of step for Gina compared to my part.

We were pretty satisfied with ourselves at that point, and just sketched in the idea of the bridge before calling it a night. We still have to break out harmony vocals, which tends to be where the bulk of our arrangement battles lie.

Friday: The Pretenders @ The Electric Factory
I have a short list of bands that I absolutely must see once at some point in my life, mostly because I have been lucky enough to see bands while they are at their peek – before they become a rarer commodity.

For a long time one of those bands has been The Pretenders.

Read more…The Pretenders were spectacular – muscular and mimeographic as they churned out faithful renditions of songs from the full range of their career. Chrissie Hynde not only sounded pitch perfect in comparison to her records, but also cut a svelte figure in her high boots and single-tail tux jacket – dancing an exaggerated sidestep in “Brass In Pocket.” It was plain as day the through line from her to PJ, Shirley, and Karen O.

It was also clear that she is one of the great, under-appreciated rhythm guitarists in classic rock – she’s effectively the backbone of every arrangement, even galloping time changes like “Tattooed Love Boys.”

The band played half of their newest disc, and nearly the entirety of their debut, plus all the notable singles between with the exception of “2000 Miles,” “Middle of the Road,” “Ohio,” and “Stand By You” (also, my manager saw them the prior night and got “Mystery Achievement,” which I had lamented not hearing).

One more band struck from the “once in a lifetime” list (the last prior cross-off was Cyndi Lauper, another stunning concert). I’m actually hard-pressed to think of who’s next at this point. I’m tempted by the Fleetwood Mac hits tour, but I don’t know if I could count it as the real thing without Christie McVie along for the ride.

Every Monday: Open Jam @ Connie’s Ric Rac (9th just under Washington)
Connie’s Ric Rac is my neighborhood open mic, as well as being the room that spawned my recent asphyxiation and the subsequent interstate love song that Gina is currently endeavoring to learn.

As the story goes, the Ric Rac (named thusly as a misnomer for bric-a-brac) used to be an Italian Market discount store owned by the titular Connie, and when the storefront closed down the shop stayed in the family. Later, her son(s?) proposed that they open the doors as a sort of counter-culture community center, complete with art classes, concerts, and open jams.

Thus, Connie’s Ric Rac. I was a little nervous about attending, because it’s a totally new scene to me, but I was encouraged by the fact that February’s guest host is the darling Katie Barbato, and the night was themed with Beatles covers as a tribute to the band’s first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show 45(!) years prior.

I arrived much too early to a Ric Rac family scene replete with snake-feeding, wine-drinking, and banjo recitals – all with the easy laughter and chain smoking that I recall from a childhood spent in my grandmother’s South Philadelphia kitchen. I was happy to remain a wallflower through the family affair until the night kicked off.

In addition to Katie (playing a sad, Across the Universe style “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” and a new original with a killer chord change in the chorus) there was house band Discount Heroes (valiantly slaying “Revolution” and “Don’t Let Me Down” despite their singer’s flu), a freak-R&B act whose name I did not catch doing a remarkable version of “Savoy Truffle,” and Vince & Chuck.

Vince and Chuck were pure magic – performing note-perfect Beatles covers of a great selection of tunes – “Here Comes the Sun,” “If I Fell,” “Baby’s In Black,” and “Please Please Me,” plus another I can’t recall. I essentially pleaded with them to come to the LP Open Mic to share their Beatles tunes, and this was before discovering that Chuck AKA Charles Ramsey is a phenomenal songwriter in his own right.

Since the directive was early-Beatles I debated “Do You Want to Know a Secret” and “You Really Got a Hold On Me,” but settled on long-time favorite “All My Loving,” which I wailed like a fucking banshee. Katie assures me it was awesome. I also played the repeatedly aforementioned “Connie’s Ric Rac Love Song AKA Better,” “In My Life,” and later “Ob-la Di Ob-la Da,” plus a handful of other originals.

Katie will host out the month, and I’m going to make an effort to make it to the next two Monday’s to hang out with her and the Ric Rac family before shifting my attention to either Fergie’s or The Fire in March. She gave me a copy of the brand new full-length by her band The Sleepwells, and her voice is so freaking sexy on it. I might blush the next time I talk to her. Wow.

Every Tuesday: Open Mic @ Studio Luloo (916 White Horse Pike, Oaklyn NJ)
Yes, my friends, I got all the fuck around the scene this week.

Gina and I have had Studio Luloo on our to-do list for a while, and it was elevated by our missing an appearance from Year Long Day last week. We discovered that it is virtually around the corner from Gina’s abode, and tonight finally endeavored to make an appearance.

It was a completely worthwhile endeavor! Luloo is hosted and operated by the entirely charming Sara O’Brien, who shares songs, healing arts, and a tangible joie de vivre in this cozy shopfront slash recording studio with the best monitor mix we’ve ever heard.

No joke. We were first after Sara, so had no idea what to expect, and we started with “Bucket Seat,” which is not amongst the simplest of our songs, and the mix was just perfect. We could hear what we really sounded like, and not some faraway facsimile thereof. We also made a successfully epic run at “Apocalyptic Love Song” (click that link – Gina should win a freaking Grammy for that performance), and an entertaining jaunt through “Pocahontas.”

Playing first can be a curse if you want to get heard by the room at it’s fullest, but when you’re just out to chill it’s a wonderful pressure deflator. We had time to chat with some of the crowd, including super-sweet Dave from Never Trust, and Ryan Williams, who was the feature.

I’ve met Ryan before, but never heard him, and his songs are great. Like, actually great, not just hyperbolic great. He has a new one, “Audio,” that is pure aural dynamite. Scary-good.

I was sad to miss out on talking to a cool kid playing a Guild with a series of partial capos, his name maybe being Jeremy Hines? He had a really tuneful sensibility, and reminded me of Honorary Title – the sort of music I consistently fail at making when I write things like “Standing” or “Love Me Not.”

In other news…
I had designs on hitting the Tuesday open mic @ Time on the way home from Luloo, but Gina smartly deposited me back at my house so I can rest my voice a bit.

Not too much other news, other than I stopped by Cafe Grindstone over the weekend for a fabulous lunch of vegan kielbasa and a soy banana milkshake and spoke with Jerry at the counter a bit about how one gets selected to play there. It’s just about as close to me as Ric Rac, so I’d love to drop by to sing every so often.

Also, Battlestar Galactica. I could say a lot about this week’s episode, but right now I just have one thing on my mind: the return Ellen Motherfrakkin’ Tigh.

Coming up!
Hopefully some fucking sleep!

But, seriously, tomorrow night we’ll be at the LP Open Mic @ Intermezzo. If open micing is not your thing, get thyself to the Tin Angel to see Shackamaxon, awesome Mad Dragon recording artist Andrew Lipke, and a band called StereoFidelic which is likely awesome based on the company they keep.

Also, biggest news for last: Arcati Crisis will be splitting a bill with our friend and musical confidante Joshua Popejoy on February 28th at our much-beloved South Street venue Upstairs @ Zot! This will be a BIG SHOW – big sets from both of us, a big(ger) PA system, a big comfortable room for you to stretch out in, and hopefully A BIG CROWD.

$8, beer specials, awesome acoustic pop music. Mark your calendar. Tickets here.

What now? Oh, right, sleep.

Peter is a Philadelphia singer-songwriter, half of the band Arcati Crisis, and Director of Communications for Lyndzapalooza (LP).

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Philly: Seen on the Scene

Sunday, January 4, 2009

In high school when I would procrastinate on homework X-Files was like the 2-minute warning on my weekend. If Mulder and Scully made it on screen before my assignments were wrapped up I’d be in serious trouble.

Since I’m always kvetching that I don’t get to tell you about all the awesome stuff I do every week, I’m going to bring back that dread high school tradition for that express purpose: Sundays nights I will rattle off my ravels and travails at length.

And, um, I have no idea where we left off. Before Christmas? After Christmas? Let me think…

Every Tuesday: Open Mic @ Time
On X-Mas Eve Eve I stopped by the new Tuesday open mic @ Time at 1315 Sansom (formerly Ludwig’s). It’s hosted by Pete G. (also the host of Fergie’s), and for the night was co-hosted by my multi-talented South Philly neighbor Michael Gall of Shackamaxon.

I played a lot of different open mics in Philadelphia in 2008, and no matter how nice the host or the equipment, or how good your songs or your playing, it often just comes down to the shape and mood of the room.

Time, as it happens, is a good shape and mood for me – or at least it was on X-E-E. The room is large and square with high ceilings and a low stage in the front corner – big enough for a songwriter, a reduced drum kit, and a slightly detuned upright piano. The low stage makes for an easy connection with patrons at the bar, and the depth/height of the room means everyone can see you playing.

I played first and had great fun warming up the room with some little played tunes, including “A Few Bars of Goodbye” and “Something Real,” plus a new one that I haven’t had a chance to record yet for the site. I wound up staying to last call to catch Ian (The Thief), James Cooper (bassist from Fergie’s), the lovely Francesca, and a host of other great local acts (links to come!).

Saturday: 80s Prom @ The Shubin
AKA my bachelor party. Seriously.

Sorry, kids, I have to come back to this one when I can ramble at more length (if such a thing is possible).

Last Mondays: Linda Cohen Benefit Open Mic @ National Mechanics
I suppose from there we can fast forward to the grocery store this past Monday. Elise, Steve, and I were in line at the checkout when I received a curious text message from one Victoria Spaeth, local songwriter, host of the Thursday evening open mic at Crossroads, and all-around booking machine: did I want to play a spot later that night @ National Mechanics?

Nat’l, on 3rd just under Market, is by far our favorite bar in Center/Old city – great beers and ciders on tap, pleasant pub atmosphere, and the best veggie burgers on the planet. I had done some inquiring over the summer as to whether they did any music to no avail, so I leapt right out of the checkout line to ring Vicky back and let her know I’d definitely come out to play the spot.

As it turns out, the night was an invitational open mic benefit for Linda Cohen, a pillar of the Philly music scene battling lung cancer. I arrived to find that I was on a bill co-hosted by the awesome Dani Mari, along with regular LP open micer Aaron Brown, Ian (twice in a week!), a slew of great local comedians (links forthcoming), and fucking KEN KWEDER.

As long time CK connoisseurs may recall, I met Ken in the middle of the street in University City while changing my guitar string in 2002. He was super-nice to me at the time, and I was surprised to later discover he is an underground songwriter of national renown, and known to tons of my pub-faring friends as well as my dad, who knew him in the 70s.

Anyhow, Ken was awesome, the comedy was awesome – the whole thing was awesome. Being a late and unknown add to the bill I was playing the last songwriter spot, post-1am. I was a little nervous in general, and even more nervous to be playing a super-late spot, as I’m historically not much of a drunk-bar-crowd pleasure.

Well, on this rare occasion I had nothing to be worried about – I was warmed up well, the crowd was nice, and the house speakers added a terrific bass whomp to my already percussive playing. I rattled off a muscular duo of “Shake It Off” and “Like a Virgin,” followed by another run through the brand new one (it’s starting to make sense).

The next benefit goes down while I’m out of town honeymooning; FaceBook it here. They also have a standing music/comedy night every Monday, and if you stop by you can talk to AJ re: booking.

(We also found out Vicky will be pinch-hitting hosting duties at the Tuesday night Lickety Split open mic on South Street, which is just up the street from my house!)

Tuesday: Alexandra Day @ Tin Angel
Gina and I met Alexandra Day while pinch-hitting a slot at Tritone in December 2007 (see, last minute gigs are always a good thing :), and I have been in love with her music ever since. Last spring she released my favorite album of 2008, No Castles No Moats, a luscious blend of piano pop, Philadelphia architecture, Maureen from Rent, and red wine.

I’ve made it a point to catch as many of Alex’s shows as I can since then, as based on the sheer, unbelievable amazingness of both her live sets and her disc I am confident she is mere steps away from a Regina Spektor-like blow-up in the near future.

Alex was opening for a night of song that I unfortunately skipped out on due to being a touch under the weather, but I did catch some of my favorites from her disc as well as a few of her new boy-crazy tunes like “Chemicals In My Brain” and “Red Heads.” She closed with her crushing X-Mas tune, “Bring It On Home,” which jerks tears out of me every damned time.

I’ll stop here, as I have another piece on Alex simmering at the moment, and I don’t want to steal all of my own thunder.

In other news…
I punked out on hitting Auction House for their monthly In The Round on Saturday because it was cold and I was deep into adding new features to my song tracking database. I missed out on a trio of Joshua Park, Scott Silipigni, and Steph Hayes – surely all awesome.

I also hit Wes and Gina’s for the Eagles game, where about half of everyone I know screamed at the television until our shredded vocals chords travelled back up the satellite connection and across the nation to Minnesota, resulting in McNabb finally connecting for a touchdown to seal the deal in the 4th quarter.

Never let it be said that I am a fan of Donovan McNabb. I’ll heckle him straight into the Super Bowl, if that’s what it takes. I am that committed.

Coming up!
I have designs on hitting the open jam @ Connie’s Ric Rac tomorrow night, but we’ll see if they hold up through a day at work. Tuesday would either be Time or Lickety Split if I get my ass out of the house.

The one place I will most assuredly be playing is Intermezzo at 3141 Walnut Street on Wednesday night, where I host the LP open mic. I’ll probably launch my solo opening set just shy of 8 p.m. – I’ll be playing the new tune and maybe some brand new covers. AC will likely grace the stage later in the night; music and drinks will continue through eleven.

Time to go watch some Supernatural DVDs…

Peter is a Philadelphia singer-songwriter, half of the band Arcati Crisis, and Director of Communications for Lyndzapalooza (LP).

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One Hang Drum Per Child (complements of Dante Bucci)

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The new promo video for One Laptop Per Child features my friend and sometimes percussionist Dante Bucci‘s original composition for hang drum:

Earlier today I briefly quizzed Dante on how this came to be, and he said:

The firm they hired to do the animation somehow came across my YouTube video and they wanted to use the song. It happened to be one of the songs I recorded but didn’t make it to the EP, so i had a good quality recording for them to use.

The hang drum (pronounced “hung”) is a ufo-shaped, hollow percussion instrument that’s not unlike an inverted steel drum. Each hang has a root note in the center and a scale surrounding it, as marked by tiny divets around the circumference of the instrument. Each year a limited number of hangs are made, in specific keys and scales.

At this point Dante is one of the international experts on the Hang. He’s taken the instrument to places other people hadn’t previously conceived – playing multiple drums at once, and tracking the hang against drums and bass on his new EP.

This tune – “Fanfare” – is my current favorite.

You can catch a set on the hang from Dante most Wednesdays (though not tomorrow) at Lyndzapalooza’s open mic at Intermezzo Bar & Café @ 3131 Walnut Street. You can also hear him playing percussion and singing background vocals at Mutlu’s shows in the Philly area.

Also filed in philly music, weblinks | | Comments (5)

how to find great music in philadelphia

Friday, November 14, 2008

Last night we were all gathered around the door of our show, trying to entice a small trickle of patrons from the downstairs bar to come up and enjoy the music while watching the game.

We’re a bit threatening in our overwhelming friendliness and team t-shirts, and so any time more than three of us congregated in a clump I made an effort to peel away and lurk somewhere else. Maybe if we were summer camp counselors, but at a concert the sight of eight people in matching t-shirts advancing on you can be a little disconcerting.

At one point I peeled in tandem with someone else, and we got to talking about our trickle of visitors. “We have such great music here,” they said. “Why don’t people want to come in and hear it?”

It’s certainly true that we had great music – probably the best three-songwriter bill Philly would see all month – Josh Albright, Bevin Caulfield, and Blueberry Magee and His Hot Five. And, it’s my job to be able to be able answer their question with sophisticated marketing plans and communications approaches.

Last night my answer was much simpler. “Most people just don’t know,” I explained, “that this music even exists.”

That’s not a matter of marketing or communication – it’s really education. Much in the way we live in a liberal bastion of a city and frequently underestimate the power of people’s ability to disagree with our beliefs, we have also ensconced ourselves in a local music community that puts a huge value on genre-bending and sheer-musicianship.

It’s a community that I didn’t even know existed until earlier this year, and I’ve been a musician in Philadelphia for years. I really thought I was going to walk into a bar one day with some original songs, play them, and that everyone would fall madly in love with me. And, well, maybe they will. But there are a lot of other people out there deserving of that love that I never knew existed.

This year my eyes have been opened to just how much music is in the air in Philadelphia every night of the week. So many open mics. So many amazing local artists playing shows. How on Monday one of the most amazing shows I’ve ever seen could play to a room of just two dozen people. How our best-bill-of-the-month was playing to a small crowd of dedicated listeners and a bar full of football fans.

I’ve been lucky to experience the thrill of playing to a full house more than once this year, but I’ve played to exponentially more empty or inattentive rooms. Nobody likes the latter. But, I’m starting to understand that you can’t just fill that void with communication – that just informs people you already talk to, or marketing – that just reaches out to people predisposed to you.

What you need to fill that void is education. People need to understand that this creative community exists, that there is diverse music to be heard, and that artists all around the city are striving for an opportunity to express themselves.

Last night’s show was not Lyndzapalooza‘s biggest success, but it might have been the best reinforcement of our mission. We exist to celebrate creative community, diverse music, and equally opportunity expression. And, that celebration extends past the people who we already talk to, and the people predisposed to like us.

The celebration is for everyone.

Also filed in Philly, philly music | | Comments (0)

Preoccupational Hazards

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Tonight was my one night off for the week, except I wanted to spend it on – do some blogging, maybe start my next Trio.

That wasn’t meant to be. I had some more pressing concerns to attend to, such as washing dishes and laundry. And, I’m not just talking about from a normal “chore” perspective. No. This was a no drinking glasses left and completely out of pants situation.

You might laugh at my situation. Ha!, you might think, he seems to be so together with his podcasts and his Groom Team, but it’s an illusion! You might continue to gloat, Aside from his yuppy job he’s living the slovenly, disorganized life of a lazy bachelor.

Yet, that’s just not the case – and not just because I’m living merrily in sin with Elise. I’m certainly spending time being clean, orderly, and tenacious outside of my yuppy occupation – it’s just that the time is invested in all of my yuppy pre-occupations.

At this point I have so many non-occupational jobs that it’s not unusual for a week to go by without me even finding the time to do a single load of laundry. Take this week, for example.

I spent half the weekend recording and mixing the four songs in the last two posts, and the other half working on an arrangement for Drexel’s all-female acappella group. Monday I spent a few hours cleaning up the back-end CK, and then I went to a concert of someone who is playing at my wedding. Tomorrow night I’ll be co-hosting an open mic with the other half of Arcati Crisis, and on Thursday I’m the artist liaison at our Lyndzapalooza Fall Mixer.

Did you catch all of that? Recording engineer, transcriptionist, network administrator, event planner, rock star, and A&R rep. That’s six hobbies that I’ve turned into part-time jobs. Hobs? Jobbies?

At least with the latter half of wedding, AC, and LP I knew from the start that I was getting into something that was both time-consuming and rewarding. However, the former three – CK, arranging, and DIY recording – all started out as innocent distractions from the rest of my life. I never meant for them to become staying up until 3am, working until I nod off in my chair sorts of engagements. It just turned out that way.

Is this insane or just slightly abnormal? Do you have jobs aside from what you do for a living and taking care of your home and family? If you do, did you choose to make them a priority, or did they sneakily transform into one over time?

Also filed in adulthood, bloggish, cleaning, day in the life, mess, over-achievement, thoughts | | Comments (1)

Weary, but without wedding woes.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I am profoundly tired.

The day that preceded that condition included some crazy legwork at the office, as well as three hours of hosting LP’s new Wednesday night open mic @ Intermezzo at 31st and Walnut.

However, the root cause of the weariness extends back several days, during which I have been trying to squeeze in more content than a day can hold. Much of that content has been wedding-related.

A year ago I said,

I love all the dire wedding warnings that come from every quarter when you first get engaged. I suppose it’s a cultural hazing thing? I just don’t get it. Each of our favorite weddings were relatively lacking in insanity and drama according to the various brides. Also, we’re both OCD project managers with the same taste in everything.

Right. Remind me to come back and read this post in about twelve months and see what I have to say about it.

Well, I’m back a week shy of one year later to report that I still agree with that sentiment. Maybe you should ask me again in two more months.

In the past year I’ve discovered that weddings don’t have to be difficult projects filled with temper tantrums. We’ve certainly had some stressful moments, and we’ve argued and disagreed over a few things. I’m sure that’s true for every couple, no matter how in-sync they are. Yet, on the whole the entire planning process has been … well, mostly just fun.

It helps that we’re both OCD project managers with experience in communications and event planning. Elise methodically steers the critical path of our overall project plan, and I own a subset of tasks – one of which recently resulted in booking the fantastic Alexandra Day to play our cocktail reception. Anything that deviates from the plan is addressed or eliminated. Several cagey or uncooperative vendors have been jettisoned prior to signing a contract. All four sets of parents have been supportive and barely meddlesome. Whenever we get stuck we ask our parties for advice; they have solved every problem we’ve come up with so far.

The past week has been especially active because we mailed our invites on Monday. They are definitely amongst the top five most awesome wedding invites I have ever laid hands or eyes on. Not coincidentally, all five invites on my most-awesome list were at least partially self-designed and hand-made, with every aspect of their formats customized to the personality of the couple.

Elise and I started discussing our ideas for invites as early as January. At the time our wedding was still fresh news, rendering it the lead-in topic of every conversation. Since invites were one of the few things already underway I was eager to talk about our ideas to everyone. Surprisingly, I heard a handful of puzzlingly dismissive comments, usually along the lines of the following:

Me: “… and, we’re designing and producing our invites by ourselves!”

Them: “Oh, I guess you’re trying to cut costs, huh?”

Me: “Not really. We both do similar projects all day at work; we thought it would be fun to do one together.”

Them: “Yeah, sure, it’s neat when people find a way save money on their wedding.”

Me: “Actually, it’s more about designing exactly what we want.”

Them: “Yeah, sure, and you can do it really cheaply that way.”

Me: “I don’t think we’ll save very much. It’s just that we’ll have control over the quality.”

Them: “Yeah, sure, but they won’t be as nice as invites you buy out of a book.”

Me: “Um… [bangs head against the counter]“

Ultimately we did save some money on materials compared to “customized” wedding invites available from a book or online. But, that wasn’t the point, and it isn’t even a fair comparison. The definition of “custom” in commercially produced invitations is vastly different from our own, which features unique text and layout, high-end specialty paper, a bevy of custom shapes and die-cuts, and hand-embossing.

To get a better sense of how “cheap” our invites really were, I sought out a more realistic comparison. I showed a final invite to one of the senior designers at work and asked her to quote what she would charge to produce them as a freelance project.

Once she was done calling in other members of her team to marvel at our amazing paper, she conservatively estimated that she would have charged at least $700 for the design (not including costs for comps), $500 or more for the time Elise spent on hand-assembly (some of which she would have sent to a vendor for digital die-cut), and a 10-15% markup on our material costs. And, that doesn’t account for our hours of debate over colors, paper weights, fonts, and content, or our extensive usability testing with a series of prototypes,

Essentially, Elise put in the commercial equivalent of more than $1200 worth of woman-power into our invites. If you also factor in her material costs, we just sent out a fleet of invites valued at over $21 a piece, not including postage. And that’s the conservative estimate.

I haven’t done too much market research, but I don’t think that’s very “cheap” in comparison with the industry average, no matter what your definition of “custom.”

I think that even the cost-cutting crowd from above would appreciate all of the effort … if they received an invite. Which they didn’t. Why? Because I cut their rude asses from the guest list months ago … even before we paid for venues, meals, and dresses they were more interested in how much our wedding cost than in how much it was about us.

(Aside from that alteration, our final guest list was nearly identical to the list we originally drafted a year ago this week. Again, why does this cause people stress? It’s pretty simple. First, when you get engaged write out a list of all of the people who you might like to see when you get married, as well as those who want to see you when you get married – not because they expect to be invited or because they are calculating the tab in their heads, but because they care about you. (If you are me you will supply a draft of this list along with the engagement ring.) Then, check with your parents and close friends to see if you forgot anyone important (and by important I mean important to you). Next, stratify your full list in some way – like, small-wedding vs. large-wedding, must-invite vs. should-invite, A-B-C-D lists, 80/20 rule, or whatever. Once you have established a budget and looked at some venues it will be clear which version of that stratified list you can afford to invite. Finally, send invites to those people. The end. If that means you wound up cutting a cousin in favor of a co-worker, so be it. Life goes on.)

As part of the invite process Elise built a staggeringly detailed web site that matches the overall look of our wedding “campaign,” and on it she placed the first three entries in my series of ten engagement posts.

Seeing as the wedding quickly approaches, I’m thinking I should write the other seven in pretty short order.

And rent a tuxedo. And buy my wedding band.

And go to sleep.

Also filed in Engagement, Year 09, corporate, over-achievement, performance | | Comments (3)

Happy Birthday To This

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Lately I’ve been struggling with the concept of success – specifically, how to discern the difference between progress and success.

I am always progressing – I do not do well with sitting still. Nevertheless, moving forward doesn’t equal succeeding. Motion doesn’t equal a milestone.

Or, at least, that’s my typical mantra of over-achievement.

It can be hard mantra to upkeep; over-achievement requires a lot of regular achievement to maintain, and that requires plenty of milestones to mow down while you’re in motion.

It’s an especially hard mantra to have when no new milestones are in sight … when it starts getting tempting to view motion as a milestone. It’s akin to the kid who wants a teevee break just for doing the first page of his homework. Should I reward myself just for learning one new song, or completing one workout? The slope from those minor successes to learning a new chord or doing one push-up is treacherously slippery.

This was the quandary that stopped my progress cold last week, grinding my life to a halt. I spent a long night of discussion with Elise, reviewing the successes of the past year, and trying to figure out how to translate further forward motion into more milestones.

Elise is the panacea to those inconsolable moments, and as we laid in bed talking it became apparent that part of the problem is that I had forgotten the other, single, proven solution to all of my various doldrums – eight years of Crushing Krisis archives documenting every success and failure, and all the moments of paralysis found in between the two.

Eight years of proof that I am always in motion, and always finding a new milestone.

II.

As of today Crushing Krisis is an alarming eight years old – absolutely ancient in blogging years, and still the reigning longest running blog in my fine city of brotherly love.

I have a blog old enough to be in third grade. If that’s not a major milestone, I don’t know what is.

Not only is CK itself a milestone, it’s a collection of them – a chronicle of my greatest hits, the succcesses that sketch my evolution from aimless straight-A college student and hapless singer-songwriter through hopelessly overcommitted yuppy and emerging artist.

The amazing thing about the last twelve months is how many successes they encompassed. I played a show at the Tin Angel with my band (two, actually). I got engaged to the love of my life. I completed six months of voice-lessons, emerging with newly revitalized vocals. Lyndzapalooza threw not only a hugely successful music festival, but two modestly awesome off-season events. I finally became the senior member of my team at work. I’m planning the most kick-ass party I’ve ever thrown, which coincidentally happens to be my wedding.

In hindsight I feel as though the vast majority of my personal greatest hits record is contained in the last year of my life – like I’m one of those artists who has one big album and that ten years later my record company will release a 21st Century Masters collection of me that regurgitates that one album end-to-end, plus some random cover I did for a soundtrack.

In the midst of all those hits I could easily lose track of the progress I made, but that’s exactly what CK is here for. I already chose the best of them to feature in the Year 8 topic, but my most indelible memories extend far beyond the posts I’d deem as “best.”

Our band got censored for the first time. I had two of my most memorable taxi-driver conversations. I played a game of “what if I managed Britney?” I conquered my quarter-life crisis. I co-invented (and later conducted) an Upscale Bar Crawl. I blogged daily for an entire month for no reason at all, highlighting my favorite (remastered) Trio Tracks along the way.

I dissected Radiohead’s record release, along with the entirety of the “blogosphere.” I became fascinated for an entire night by a trick of photography. I learned valuable lessons from my longest period of bachelorhood in the past half decade.

I began telling the story of our engagement, further chronicled here and here. I disclosed my previously deeply personal delight in hot food eaten cold. I saw Elise’s brother make his theatrical debut. I posted a rare Trio that I liked as soon as it was recorded.

I contemplated being a real band. I reflected on my childhood masquerade as a born-again Christian. I posted yet another awesome-right-out-of-the-box Trio. I celebrated Gina’s birthday by recounting our first time singing together. I cultivated an ulcer. I learned about sibling rivalry by way of working out regularly for the first time in my life, and in the process got to know Elise’s sister a little bit better.

I almost shattered the fragile, bird-like skeleton of one of my SVPs. I taught the entire internet how to edit their MySpace Music profiles (seriously, you should see the referrals I get on that one damn post). I nearly got laughed out of a coffee-shop due to my savant-like knowledge of Clue.

I played my band’s first honest-to-goodness solo gig, and made friends with 13-year-olds. I spoke at my mother’s wedding, and reflected on how just a few decades ago mine would be illegal in some states. I became a big brother, and started becoming my mother, all in the span of a week. I reflected on GBLT rights in Iraq by way of Ani DiFranco and teenage theatre. I posted the best and worst of my teenage poetry.

And, still fresh in my mind, I was the victim of a crime of hate.

Other things happened too – good things and bad things left unsaid as I skipped a few months of blogging while I was out succeeding a life.

I never finished our engagement story. I haven’t been blogging about wedding prep, including dress shopping and invite-making. I didn’t relate how I got chewed out by a co-worker for bashing Jesus on our last Live @ Rehearsal disc. I continuously redacted a post entitled “Figure Skating Pants” because it never turned out as funny on-screen as it was in my head. You haven’t yet heard about house-hunting.

A hundred other things.

If Crushing Krisis is as much about progress as it is about success, as much about motion as it is about milestones, it’s also as much about silence as it is about sound. My evolution is sketched as much by the words I withhold as the ones I write.

III.

I write these birthday posts each year … letters to my future self. Internet time travel.

Last year I said:

If Year 6 of Crushing Krisis was about finding stability, then this past year has been converting stability into happiness.

To amend that quote, if Year 7 was about converting stability into happiness, this past year was about finding a way for happiness and success to finally co-exist in my life.

In their own quiet way, those successes have brought me as close to quitting CK as I’ve ever been. Even though this blog documents my successes the actual act of blogging is all progress, and progress without success in sight can be daunting.

On and off, I plotted CK’s demise. Merge it into a band blog, I thought. Not as important as wedding planning, I decided. My writing has already peaked, it’s time to focus on other things, I resolved. Not saying much of importance anyway, I mused. It’s not as if anyone’s reading it, I whined. Blogs are ubiquitous and thus unremarkable, I opined. I’m out of things to say, I worried.

Yet, here I am, still, heading into Year 9.

Why? Because Crushing Krisis is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had, one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and the best way I know to show that I am not only progressing into adulthood but slowly and surely succeeding at life.

And because of you. You – indefinable and intangible, yet indefatigable.

Not just you – singular you, tu – you there on the other side of the screen reading this now, so much as you – plural you, vous – all of you. The royal you. The Schrodinger’s Cat of you. The mere potential of you.

“You” could mean you – now, in the present, two seconds after I post this; you – far in the future, maybe after I’ve gone; you – both of you; or you – neither of you … some other you entirely.

Thank you, no matter which you I am addressing. Thank you for being a part of and a party-to my never-ending progress and my continuing success. Thank you for reading, listening, commenting, and linking. Thank you for your time, for your attention, and for being you.

Thank you. And, happy birthday to this.

Also filed in Engagement, Year 08, adulthood, arcati crisis, august 26th, betterment, corporate, elise, essays, gina, memories, over-achievement, resolve, self-critique, singing | | Comments (4)

Lineup and links for There’s a Stage on My Lawn!

Friday, May 16, 2008

If you are free on Saturday between 2 p.m. and 11 p.m. I hope you’ll be at There’s a Stage on My Lawn! in Yardley, PA, presented by Lyndzapalooza. And, if you can’t come I encourage you to to pass the word along to another music lover in your life.

There’s a Stage on My Lawn features fourteen amazing, independent, local artists. They’ve all been busting their asses for the past year to rock better and harder than ever before … evolving from coffee shops to open mics to underbills to featured shows.

I’m honestly a fan of our entire bill – I’m still not sure how we got so lucky as to gather them all in one place, but I promise you that the opportunity to see them all together is fleeting. And, it’s certainly not going to happen again for just $12.

I am as proud as I can possibly be to be an organizer of and an artist in this amazing event. It’s going to be good, and it’s going to be fun, and I wish every local music fan could be a part of it. Check out the music of our artists below, and then head to TicketLeap for more info & pre-sale or reserved tickets.

Geoff Ednie – Former acapella staple plays a mix of crowd-pleasing covers and originals influenced by the Beatles, Alice in Chains, and Phish.

Bevin Caulfield – Smokey-voiced darling of rooms like Tin Angel and The Fire. Lots of classic soul influences make her stand out in a crowd. (Watch)

Arcati Crisis – My band! Harmony-filled boy/girl acoustic pop from a pair of life-long best friends. Sounds like Rilo Kiley crossed with the Indigo Girls. (Listen) (Watch)

Old Man Cactus – A great band we shared the bill with at Tin Angel. Inspired by a who’s who of 70s singer-songwriters, they come off like an acoustic, bluesy version of Maroon 5. (Watch solo)

Brian Flannagan – A surprisingly gentle, folky sound from this former producer and drummer.

Lindsay Wilhelmi – LP’s founder writes unshakably catchy original tunes, and plays covers from Jewel, the Recipe, and 4 Non Blondes.

Ben Guez – Golden-throated classical singer dissects songs from unlikely sources, like classic rock, or even the Pixies, and also slips in his own infectious originals.

John Glaubitz – Original, solo modern-rock from an accomplished guitar player. A one-man Warped tour. (Listen)

Enter the Rooms – This band is hot. Incredible local alternative rockers can grab your attention acoustic or electric. A riffier Coldplay? Not sure, but they never disappoint. (Music Video)

Jesse Schurr – Tiny, local yoga instructor typically fronts an acoustic funk four-piece, but will play stripped down versions of her rhythmic tunes for us. (Watch)

Irene Molloy – Lilting, country-tinged folk-pop that would be right at home on XPN, from the star of TV sitcoms Grosse Point and Andy Richter Controls the Universe.

Da 1 – Solo MC/songwriter describes his primary influences as Jimi Hendrix and Jay-Z, and lives up the to hype with his guitar shredding and vocal hooks. (Watch)

Just Like Me – Young band from Temple plays engaging, challenging rock music. Some hear a Radiohead/Tool influence, but others cite Pink Floyd. Either way, a great band. (Listen)

Dante Bucci – Hypnotic original compositions on the hang drum, a bell-like percussion instrument. You’ve never seen anything like it! (Watch/Listen)

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A Stage On Our Lawn, pt. 4

Friday, May 16, 2008

It’s our first meeting in January, and Lyndzapalooza (LP) is stuck in a bind.

We had thrown an event the third Saturday of every May for five years, and we already spread the word that people should expect a sixth edition. But, as we sadly informed the sales rep at our awesome potential location, we simply didn’t have enough lead-time to raise the cash or audience support to head out to a farm,

Even if we didn’t throw an event on a farm, we had to throw something. We couldn’t afford to forfeite our established festival date – we’d run the risk of losing whatever brand value and tradition we had built to-date.

We couldn’t just throw a Spring Mixer – it would seem like a letdown after last year’s huge spring event. At the same time, we couldn’t just go back to the same-old house party – not just because we actually had a business model now, but because we promised everyone (ourselves included) that we would evolve.

So: bigger than a mixer, smaller than a farm festival, and fundamentally different than our previous spring concerts.

What would that be, exactly?

We mulled and brainstormed, poked and prodded, but ultimately it was Lindsay who came up with the answer.

So, I was thinking, if we’re doing it in Yardley again we should have an actual stage – like, build a stage – so that it feels more like a real music festival. And then I thought, you could just walk out of the house and say, “hey, there’s a stage on my lawn!” So. why don’t we just call it “There’s a Stage on My Lawn!”?

Or, something like that.

As soon as the event was named we compiled our dream-list of artists and Dante started reaching out to them to see if they could play.

We nailed down two bands to anchor the lineup – the universally-adored Jesse Schurr Band and Radiohead v. Tool young rockers Just Like Me. From there we filled out the rest of the set with some local songwriters breaking through at local venues and radio (Bevin Caulfield and Irene Molloy), a handful of our favorite open mic acts (Da1 and Brian Flannagan), some emerging voices on the scene (Ben Guez and our founder Lindsay Wilhelmi), as well as some perennial favorites like our friends Jon Glaubitz and Geoff Ednie, the hypnotic hang drumming of Dante Bucci, and good ol’ harmony-laden Arcati Crisis – all tied together by the talents of improv comedy veteran Matt Lydon as emcee.

With a title and a lineup in place the other details came together with alarming efficiency, including a list of firsts for our event: official staff t-shirts; volunteers with specific assignments; full-day photo and video coverage; grilled food for sale; a constructed stage complete with scrim; a professional light hang; and independent vendors, including body-painting and airbrushing from our amazingly talented friend Jennifer Vessels.

Lindsay and I marveled to each other that we had six other pairs of hands to assist in our traditional duties, and how it freed us to go above and beyond what we had done in past years. Lindsay had the opportunity to design a beautifully detailed logo, and I spent weeks writing copy for our various websites and interviewing our artists.

But, well, you know what they say about the best laid plans. Just Like Me had a time restriction that kept them segregated to the first half of the schedule, and Jesse Schurr would be appearing sans band due to schedule conflicts. Suddenly it was anchors-away for our lineup, and we were afraid the lack of bands would be disappointing to our audience.

In past years this sort of thing would completely railroad us, but here we were prepared. We had already put out early feelers to two of my absolutely favorite local bands – Enter the Rooms and Old Man Cactus – and it took only a week to secure them both. In that same week Just Like Me eliminated their time crunch, leaving us with an intensely packed lineup of amazing music.

That brings us to present day. The festival kicks off in exactly 36-hours, and I am a wired blend of enthusiasm and anxiety. We’ve done five festivals, three open mics, and a mixer, but this is the first time the full force of our organization and branding is on the line.

Success isn’t too far from our grasp. We are featuring fourteen amazing artists, and even if they each only bring a handful of audience members we’ll have quite a crowd when you also include general fans, perennial guests, plus volunteers and directors.

It isn’t hard to imagine us topping a hundred attendees, and we’d all be thrilled to see that happen – thrilled for the exposure for our artists, thrilled for the support, and thrilled that we are that much closer to the farm festival we’re so eager to throw in 2009.

That’s the story of Lyndzapalooza’s There’s a Stage on My Lawn! Hopefully I’ve given you some insight into how much behind-the-scenes work has gone into our sixth annual festival, although I can’t approach detailing all of the personal effort that each of our directors and volunteers have put into the planning of the event.

If you’re in Philadelphia on Saturday you should come to our festival. You can purchase or reserve tickets on the web at TicketLeap, or just grab driving directions and pay at the door. The closest train station is the R3 Yardley stop, which is three miles from the festival. If you’re stuck for a ride please leave a comment and I’ll find a way to get you to us.

I’ll be back with one more post with links to the music of everyone on our lineup. But, if I’m going to be using power-tools in eight hours I should probably get some sleep.

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A Stage On Our Lawn, pt. 3

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Fall 2007. Lyndzapalooza (LP) had a survey of audience preferences, and we had a mission statement.

Both seemed like tremendous accomplishments as we toiled at them, but they were dwarfed by our next task: building a bigger, better music festival.

First we needed to find a place to host it.

As with many of our problems, it started out seeming relatively benign. We needed a big, open, outdoor space that could host an all day concert. Surely we could drive out of the city and ask any farm on the block to host us.

Right?

If you said yes, you would be exactly naive as I was last fall.

An outdoor concert venue needs to want to be visited by a bunch of music-loving strangers. It must have ample and accessible electricity, and either an existing stage infrastructure or a willingness to have one built.

Those are just the basics. What about lighting? Bathrooms? Parking? Security? Alcohol? Trash disposal?

I can’t take an iota of credit for this step in our development – it was lead by a phalanx of our most people-persons: Lindsay, Amanda and Jem, and my partner in Arcati Crisis, Gina.

First, They developed criteria for a venue – everything from price to sound ordinances, from capacity to garbage disposal. Next, they wrote a script for their outreach calls. Then they compiled an exhaustive list of possible venues, sometimes drawing from the experiences of other local festivals. Finally, they started making calls.

It was at this point we started to learn something special about music promotions at a local level – something that stood in complete opposition to our team of directors: there are very few Type A personalities doing this sort of thing. Not a lot of call-backers, list-makers, and go-getters, aside from the eight of us.

As my anecdotal example, I witnessed Gina conduct a 20-minute phone call with one venue, most of which was comprised of an argument about the ideal number of bands to feature on a bill for a one day festival, during which her counterpart on the other side of the line may have smoked an entire joint. Possibly two.

In the midst of lacking follow-ups and incomprehensible burnouts we finally found one farm where someone had their shit together and, as luck would have it, the farm itself was awesome. An appropriate size for our event, multiple stages, places to camp, and a snack shack. Lindsay put together an animated (literally) presentation to show all of the capabilities of the site.

Here we hit upon an issue.

Even in conversations with the burnouts we established early on that booking a farm would cost somewhere in the area of $2000, and that didn’t include any associated costs, like mixing equipment, lighting, and garbage disposal.

We were trying to evolve from a backyard party with under a hundred guests to a huge musical festival, but we’d have to charge 100 guests more than $30 a ticket just to break even. It’s a steal for eight or more hours of live music, but it’s a lot to ask after five years of being a house party with kegs and a donation jar.

As we mulled that over we managed to reach a decision point on another aspect of our evolution: we realized that we definitely wanted to become a non-profit organization.

We were eight people holding regular meetings, collecting dues, and planning events. We needed some sort of business model, and not one of us seemed to feel that a commercial one would fit. It was clear that we were in this for the love of music and the development of the community, and becoming recognized as a non-profit organization had the added bonuses of allowing us to collect donations in a legitimate, tax-exempt way, and minimizing our own personal legal and financial risks.

As if the farm price tag wasn’t daunting enough, the non-profit angle increased our need to fundraise … the state and federal process involves lots of fun paperwork and official seals, many of which cost money, and all of which benefit from oversight by actual legal counsel.

Our twin problems of raising cash and drumming up audience support intersected at a common solution – we needed to present more “off-season” events. They would help us build capital, and also reel in a regular (and hopefully increasing) audience.

Just like that we conceived of Winter Mixer, a low-key show with five bands, wine, and cheese. The goal? Spend hardly any money, present awesome bands, and reel in new audience members.

We planned the show stealthily in less than two months, an it was a great success. We made over and above the profits we were aiming for, which was cause for celebration in the short term. Yet, the farm was still outside of our reach, both budgetarily and promotionally.

What were we to do?

I have at least one more chapter of this story for you, which I hope I have the time to squeak out before I head to Yardley to help build our stage. Until then, you can purchase or reserve tickets on the web at TicketLeap. If you like independent songwriters and bands you’ll definitely love There’s a Stage on My Lawn!

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After these messages…

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Today I woke up early so I could go to work early so I could get stuff done early so I could go to a press check and, ultimately, leave early.

After said early departure I engaged in a four-mile marathon walk past and through every hip men’s clothing shop in the entirety of center city Philadelphia, in search of my Lyndzapalooza outfit.

This is a time-honored tradition stretching back to 2003, when I wore my brand new orange sneakers to the first event and got them hopelessly dingy climbing up and down from our stage AKA neighbor’s elevated backyard.

Anywho, the trek, it was long. Every store is selling the same ugly men’s clothing right now, except for Diesel, which is selling fucking uglier men’s clothing. What I really wanted was a Flash t-shirt … well, no, what I really wanted was a Cheetara shirt and a Wonder Woman shirt, but in the midst of writing like 20k unique words over the past month I forgot to order them, which initiated this whole sad hunt. Eventually I found what could be my new favorite piece of clothing (only, mine is green).

Late in the game I dragged my ass the length of South Street, now quite sweating underneath my favorite suit, and increasingly parched. I bypassed mucho de Starbucks to hit one of my few favorite indie coffee shops, Java Company, on 4th and South.

As I ordered my iced soy chai latte (one of my few truly yuppie vices) I overhead a conversation:

“Rip Torn?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was in Clue

And, now, make sure you are picturing this correctly. I am at my most corporate, in my best suit, and also sweating to death and in running shoes trailing shopping bags, and I whip my head around and say the following:

“Um, are you talking about Clue, the movie? Because Rip Torn is not in Clue. Clue starred Martin Mull as Colonel Mustard, Christopher Lloyd as Professor Plum, Michael McKean as Mr. Green, Leslie Ann Warren as Ms. Scarlet, Madeline Kahn as Mrs. White, Eileen Brennan as Ms. Peacock, Colleen Camp as Yvette, and Lee Ving as Mr. Body.”

(Actually, it took me one or two tries to get it all out in a string, because I was getting the McKean’s name tangled, and also because I kept getting distracted by 20 ounces of iced chai latte sitting in front of me, but that was the gist of it.)

Absolutely dumbfounded at my sudden outburst, one of the men from the original conversation replied.

“And Tim Curry.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged, exasperated that he even felt the need to point this out, “and featuring Tim Curry, also as Mr. Body.”

At this point the entire coffee shop, and some children outside, are all staring at me.

“It’s my favorite movie.”

The men stared back at me, their dumbfounded faces slowly melting into a wash of pity and revulsion in reaction to my savant-like obsession with the film.

“Um, yeah. Funny how it’s a movie, but it’s a board game.”

“Yeah, my brother loved that board game. We watched it, like, a dozen times.”

“I’m going to go in the back and look it up on IMDB. I think Rip Torn was in it.”

“Yeah, I think he was.”

I turned, finally, to retrieve my drink, and received a conspiratorial wink from my barista.

“I love that movie. I thought it was so funny when I was a kid, and now when I see it I catch all these different jokes.”

Sensing she was on my side I chose not to delve into a treatise on the obliquely scatological and intensely political humor of the film.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty subversive.”

Now completely dehydrated and about to crumble into a dusty mix of my constituent non-H20 molecules, I paid for my drink and left.

And that is why it is after 1 a.m. and my heart is beating about as fast as a hamster’s.

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A Stage On Our Lawn, pt. 2

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Let’s see, where did we leave off?

It’s August, 2007. Lyndzapalooza (LP) has a Board of Directors, a to-do list over a hundred lines long, and isn’t planning on having another festival for nine months.

It was a strange position to be in – all of this person-power, tons of bright ideas, and nothing tangible on the horizon for an entire pregnancy worth of time.

Yet, if we really wanted to evolve, LP had to be about more than just the tangible. We started three parallel initiatives that would help us understand our roles and what we were trying to accomplish as an organization.

The first task – a communications survey – was primarily my job.

It sounds like such a dorky task, and… well… if you’re not me maybe it is dorky. But, it was also crucially important, because in our post-mortem we realized that we didn’t know all that much about the LP audience, other than that they liked music.

What sort of music did they like? How frequently did they go out to see it? Did they enjoy Lyndzapalooza, or just come out of some sense of duty?

I spent a month working with the Board to devise a incisive list of questions that participants could whiz through in twelve minutes or less. I did a competitive analysis of survey services. I coded all of the answers so Lindsay could make groovy charts out of them.

We learned a lot about our audience. They wanted even more genres of music – especially classic rock! They liked to buy drinks and t-shirts, but they were mostly interested in music. And, they were open to coming to more than one of our shows every year.

The second task we undertook together, because it was about defining LP and defining ourselves: we needed a mission statement, and job titles!

A mission statement was of key importance to us. “Lyndzapalooza” had always been synonymous with “birthday party,” even though it was really only that for the first year or two of its life. Yet, even at the Evolve festival we kept hearing “happy birthday Lindsay” from the bands – even bands who were new to the festival! We needed to attached a firm definition to the evolved LP, or else it would always just be a birthday party.

After some deliberation we arrived – quite unanimously – at the following

Lyndzapalooza celebrates diverse music, creative community, and equal-opportunity expression.

It’s not a typical mission statement, I suppose. It doesn’t come right out and say “presenting new music to audiences.” But, LP has never really been just that. It’s been about bringing together a staggeringly wide range of musicians and fans together to enjoy music. And I think the statement definitely says that.

The third task was planning our first farm-based music festival, and tomorrow I’ll tell you how we got from there to having a stage on our lawn, rather in in our cornfield.

Until then, you can purchase or reserve tickets on the web at TicketLeap. And, trust me, you’re never going to get a chance to see these fourteen artists on a single lawn ever again.

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A Stage On Our Lawn, pt. 1

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

This is the first in a potential series of posts about There’s a Stage on My Lawn, a DIY music festival presented this weekend by Lyndzapalooza (LP).

In past years planning for a LP festival has effectively consisted of the eponymous Lindsay and myself trading frequent, frantic emails about everything from sound design to fine points of invitation etiquette, increasingly including Dante Bucci as the event approached, and culminating in a massive equipment order from Musician’s Friend to ensure we’d be able to amplify all of our artists.

For five years it’s resulted in a full day of music with nary a hiccup.

However, even sans hiccups the production of last year’s Evolve festival was one of the most overwhelming tasks I’ve ever taken on, privately or professionally. I can’t speak for Lindsay or Dante, but my role had expanded from engineering sound for the event to also include interviewing artists, working on our web presence, drafting schedules, and printing our 16-page program – and that’s just what I was doing the week before the event!

After Evolve was over we kept coming back to the word. I originally egged on Lindsay to choose it for the fortuitous synergy with our roman numeral V, but the festival wound up as a serious improvement over previous years. Yet, should our evolution really cease with two stages and an inclement weather hotline?

In my mind it was meant to be indicative of something more – that LP was going to be more than just a once-a-year party, both to our audience and to our musicians.

Lindsay and Dante agreed, and “evolve” quickly became our mantra. After the event we compiled a massive list of post-mortem items – over 100 topics amassed in two long-ranging meetings between the three of us, plus Lindsay’s partner (and now my co-worker) Kate.

The four of us were enthusiastic and optimistic, but once the list was compiled we realized that LP had grown a lot larger than just the four of us. We wanted everything to get bigger and better, including hosting a future spring festival at a local farm, but we could see the limitations of our time and resources looming ahead.

We evolved some more. We established a board of eight Directors, adding more science-minded friends to our media-savvy foursome. From underwriting to applications chemistry, our newly formed octet ran the gamut of backgrounds and influences, and was more than well-equipped to push LP even further in 2008 and beyond.

A scant five days out from this event and I’m amazed by how far we’ve come in less than a year, but I’ll get into those details in my next post.

I hope that if you live in the Philadelphia area you’ll find a chance this Saturday to check out There’s a Stage on My Lawn! You can purchase discounted tickets on the web through Friday, or buy at the door for $12. That’s less than the price of a new CD for over seven hours of original, local, live music!

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There’s a Stage on My Lawn!

Monday, May 12, 2008

This is perennially either the longest or the hardest couple of week of my year. Sometimes both.

Intense rehearsals, losing my voice, drums and drawing blood, chairing my own mixing committee, penning artist interviews while working to re-debut Arcati Crisis…

Sound familiar?

It should, because the third weekend of May is traditionally our Lyndzapalooza (LP) annual spring festival, and 2008 is no exception – LP presents There’s a Stage on My Lawn! this Saturday in Yardley, PA.

I’ve been chewing on a lot of LP-related thoughts for the past year, so my next few posts will be about some of the behind-the-scenes of planning the festival. In the meantime, I’m also posting artist interviews on our MySpace blog with Geoff Ednie, Dante Bucci, Brian Flannagan, Jesse Schurr, Just Like Me, Arcati Crisis, and Lindsay Wilhelmi.

Visit our website and click on the tickets link for discounted presale tickets, details on food and drink, camping reservations, and how you can make your own gear!

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Whoever’s Listening

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Two years ago this week we were just about settled in this house, and I was packing up my gear from the third annual Lyndzapalooza. I had only written two songs in the previous year, and I hadn’t played anywhere other than Lyndzapalooza in just about that long. I had no new recordings to speak of.

A year ago this week I had just finished my yearly engagement at Lyndzapalooza, and otherwise hadn’t played anywhere other than the Shubin X-Mas Revue since… well, since the last Lyndzapalooza.

However, I had also just written and demoed two new songs that seemed not to suck, and I was arranging for and singing in an a cappella group (the latter for the first time ever).

Minor changes. Little earthquakes.

This year I am not quite packed up from Lyndzapalooza. Gina and I practiced weekly for several months to prepare for our evening set, which featured harmony on every song. I’ve written several new songs, and have played a few monthly engagements at Melange Theatre. Though I haven’t recorded much lately, I tracked 30 new recordings in 30 days of November.

I’m finally re-enrolled in voice lessons, with an awesome young PhD candidate at Penn. Also, I was hired (hired!) to co-write two songs, which I just finished recording (and received payment for!).

And, just to keep myself limber, I’m throwing a dinner/concert for my mother where I’ll be playing two dozen of her favorite songs, and I’m arranging the entirety of Tori Amos’s new album for guitar.

Still not quite a rock star, yet – considering I let my musical life grind to a halt in 2005 – I’m gratifying by my acceleration back to musical relevance.

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So Much To Say

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

I need to re-hook-up phone posting, because at the pace of my life right now the only chance I have to sneak in a comment here is via phone. There’s been gardening, weddings, new furniture, American Idol, walking home every day, run-ins with old directors, people asking me to compose music, work photo-shoots across the damn city, and all manner of other things to distract me from blogging.

All of which would be a lot more interesting if I would write about it at length, but that would take up a commensurate amount of time.

Blahg.

Until I get my act together to make a decent post, you can hold yourselves over with my interview with Andrea Nardello, conducted for Lyndzapalooza!

Over and out.

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The Day That Was

Sunday, May 21, 2006

I take for granted that i have all this audio equipment, and microphone stands, and mixers, and, well, all the stuff i’ve accumulated over years of supplying equipment for Blogathon, Lyndzapalooza, and the Treblemakers. I take it for granted up until it’s the end of Lyndzapalooza and people are marvelling at all the equipment i have to pack or complimenting me on a job well done. I never feel like either is true, but i suppose the beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Today was a very awesome Lyndzapalooza, that classic all-day musical party and barbecue -in honor of our one and only Lindsay- that has supplanted Blogathon as my major yearly holiday.

It truly is a holiday. I look forward to it all year, i get excited to the point of distraction when it’s upcoming, and i’m drained as soon as it’s over. And it’s not even a holiday about me! You could argue that it’s about me because i get up on stage and perform, but with every year that passes that becomes increasingly more incidental. Hell, today i ditched half of a meticulously planned setlist for Kelly Clarkson covers and bringing random friends onstage to sing with me. I’m not picky.

My true role at Lyndzapalooza is to be completely and totally unobtrusive – i shouldn’t get in the way of bands when setting up their sound, and when i’m playing for someone it should be all about them and not at all about me. That way, if i do eventually take the stage myself, i can be enjoyed or ignored as my own phenomenon rather than as “the sound guy we have to listen to.”

We sure have come a long way from the first year of scrounged equipment scattered across the yard of an abandoned house and microphones affixed to broomsticks. I’m happy to say that, despite a handful of desperately grumpy moments during the day, i left this ‘palooza stress-free and without regret. I played as good as i can play, i mixed as well as i can mix, and i still somehow managed to drink and socialize while i was doing it.

Mayyybe i need more of a sound reinforcement committee next year, though. Especially if we’re going to have it on a farm or a mountain rather than in Dante’s back yard.

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A Picture Share!

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Stress free?

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A Picture Share!

Saturday, May 20, 2006

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A Picture Share!

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Tenting

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Thick Skinned

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

The point isn’t really that I have to wear in some new callouses by Saturday so that I can make it through the four sets I’m playing on, but that my callouses grew. Thickened.

I’ve been playing guitar for eight years at the end of this month. I remember when I had been playing for two and a half years, and I would watch Anthony, who has two years of playing over me, and think “Wow, look what I’ll be able to do in two years.”

And, well, maybe I can do some of the things Anthony’s done now. Who knows? I realized that the path is not linear, and it’s not parallel to anyone else’s. Early on I learned how to churn out chunky, thumping chords, Ani-fying any song in an attempt to make it my own. Just now I am learning the strength of learning something note for note, rhythm for rhythm. Isn’t that backwards? Don’t most people play along to the disc first and then figure out their own way to do it? That’s what I’ve been told, anyhow.

On the scale of great I’m sure I hardly rank – plenty of practice left on that front, no disputing that. But, not only can I get better, but even with as much playing as I’ve done, there are new callouses to be made.

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