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Arcati Crisis: The Wedding Band Edition

May 1, 2012 by krisis

It was our third time through “Don’t Stop Believin'” when I really did start believing Arcati Crisis could be an actual wedding band.

Rewind ten days. Onstage at a near-empty Tin Angel, my voice felt as though it was going to snap in half. I sang “Better” and “Bucket Seat” robotically, relying on muscle memory to find some in-tune notes in the pain.

Fast forward four days. Gina was too sick to rehearse, so Jake and I gathered in my attic to stare down a list of twenty new songs we had exactly four weeks to learn. It seemed daunting.

Arcati Crisis rocking at Fergies in March, courtesy of @polymwac

Reverse a month. We are playing “Apocalyptic Love Song” to a packed Fergie’s Pub, and everyone knows the words.

Finally, reverse the calendar back to February. I am a little tipsy at Gina’s dining room table with the entire team of bloggers behind PolySkeptic, half of which are two of Gina’s significant others, the pair of soon-to-be newlyweds Shaun and Ginny.

Ginny and Shaun were not planning typical wedding, and both Gina and I successfully threw a pair of atypical, untraditional, unusual weddings for ourselves. With all the uniqueness at the table, we decided it was a great idea for Arcati Crisis to act as the entertainment for their festivities. I pulled out my spreadsheet of 3,500 pieces of sheet music and we all had at it, picking out our favorite dance songs.

As the night (and, let’s be frank: the beer) wore on, our picks became more outlandish. AC covering “The Sign”? Awesome. AC covering “Don’t Stop Believin'”? No problem. We left planning to learn 4-6 new songs for the wedding, but there was also the little matter of the 4-6 new songs we were already learning as a band. We were tearing through an amazing batch of new originals, plus a pair of new covers – “A Little Respect” by Erasure, and “Love Game” by Lady Gaga.

That new batch debuted on March 16 at an awesome gig at Fergie’s Pub. It was one of those shows where everything went right. We shared the bill with Andra Taylor and Amanda Wells, and the energy in the room was incredible – as were we. I barely had a critique of myself on the way home, which is a rare occasion. I even broke a string mid-set and didn’t sweat it, simply switching to my backpacker guitar to debut our new songs.

We expected to have two entire months to learn our 4-6 cover songs, but just before the Fergie’s show we decided to take a April 19 gig at The Tin Angel. It was a month out from our last show – plenty of time to recuperate and recruit an audience, even if it pushed out our cover-learning a little.

Sadly, the Tin gig was the polar opposite of Fergies. I was in terrible voice, no thanks to a stressful week of events and meetings. We had gear problems throughout the set, probably helping accelerate the already-speedy exit of the fans brought by prior acts on the bill. After I managed to eek out the last notes of “Song for Mrs. Schroeder” from my dying voice and out-of-tune guitar I was off the stage before everyone else in the band.

Those nights are hard. You can be a well-rehearsed machine and still have an off night. I’ve seen it happen to artists a thousand times bigger than us.

What I’m sure is true for artists of any size is that it’s not only the actual night that’s hard, but the wait until your next rehearsal or show. All you have is that bad taste on your brain and fingers. It doesn’t help when that next rehearsal involves learning a slew of new songs for one of the most-anticipated days of someone’s life – especially when your star cover-singer (AKA Gina) is home sick.

Jake and I started out slowly sans Gina. We only needed 4-6 songs, after all. Oh, but what if we add another? And what if we tried that one? And wouldn’t it be fun if we really covered “You Sexy Thing”?

Here’s where being a well-rehearsed machine comes in handy. Jake can pick out the skeleton of any song on bass – it doesn’t matter if it’s a cover or an original. I can arrange anything for a band, even seemingly single-note songs. Between the two of us, we learned the basics of 20 cover songs.

You know what else? I listened to the recording of the Tin Angel. Yes, the gear problems are evident, but my voice? Sounded just fine. It might have been the best version of “Better” I’ve ever sung, even if I felt like I would cry while I was singing it.

Add to that the fact that Gina’s performance at our next acoustic rehearsal reminded us that she can sing anything… anything, and our prospects as a wedding band were looking up.

That brings us to Sunday, our weekly rock rehearsal with Zina on drums. Zina can perfect any song in three tries, and she is a wunderkind at adapting covers to our peculiar needs. Together, we crushed the list of the ten new cover songs that made it past Gina, Jake, and I on our first run-through. Yes, there is plenty to tune up, but we got through them. And…

Peter: Zina, we’re not going to try “Don’t Stop Believin’.” It was kinda terrible when we tried it acoustic.

Zina: Well, I learned it.

Peter: Why am I not surprised.

Jake: Actually, I learned it too.

Peter: I know it. I just don’t think it’s going to sound good.

Gina: Oh, hell, let’s just give it a try.

We proceeded to play a very shaky version of “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Not one I would put up in front of people. Then we tweaked a few things and played it again. It sounded almost as good as a bad bar band. We added Gina on guitar and some harmony from me and played it again…

Reverse the calendar to February. The Polyskeptic gang and I, tipsy and laughing around the table about the ridiculous covers Arcati Crisis might undertake.

Fast forward to March. We are debuting our cover of “Love Game” on stage to a packed Fergie’s Pub, and everyone is dancing.

Fast forward another month. Jake and I learned 20 new songs in three hours. We didn’t skip a single one.

Rewind four days. Gina looks over at me and smiles as I sing the wailing high harmony to “Cosmonaut’s Wife” on stage at the Tin Angel – it’s the first time I’ve done it at a show.

Fast forward ten days. My eyes twinkle with tears as Gina and I harmonize on songs I’ve been singing my entire life. “Is it strange to dance so soon?” “Do you remember when we used to sing?” “No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong.” Zina asks if we can try “Tonight Tonight” and we stumble through it impressively – a wall of sound, all of us singing harmony, all of us laughing every time we mess up and have to start again.

It was our third time through “Don’t Stop Believin'” when I really did start believing Arcati Crisis could be an actual wedding band.

#MusicMonday: “Gravel” – Ani DiFranco

April 9, 2012 by krisis

Ani DiFranco’s “Gravel” burst from my iPod headphones as I left the house this morning and transported me back to another place and time in my life.

It was 1997, and I was a new Ani DiFranco fan. After borrowing her tapes from my friends Andrea and Nava (yes: TAPES) I snapped up two of her remarkable trio of perfect LPs, Out of Range and Dilate, and waited with bated breath for April 22nd. That was when her new, live, double-CD Living in Clip would be released.

Living in Clip contained a bevy of older songs that were new to me, but one that no one had ever heard before outside of concerts: “Gravel.” It was the third track.

(This live performance is from slightly after the LiC version, but still pretty close in feel.)

While I loved the entire double-CD, it was “Gravel” that I played again and again in wonder. This was long before YouTube and prior to Ani’s major media breakthrough with Little Plastic Castle, so I had never seen a video of her playing guitar. I was already fascinated by the sound of her songs like “Out of Range” and “Shameless.”

How did she make those sounds? I had plenty of friends who played guitar, but none of them made the sounds that came out of “Gravel.” The guitar hopped and skipped, and sometimes barked. How did she do it?

(I would learn her rapid guitar attack emerged from five Nailene brand nails duct-taped to her fingers.)

I played that record into the ground in 1997 – played it so much that both my mother and I had it memorized from front to back. We saw Ani together for the first time that summer, sitting in the rafters of The Mann Music Center, watching her open for Bob Dylan.

“Gravel” also had a more immediate effect. Less than six weeks after I first heard it I begged my mother to buy me an acoustic guitar. I think she was surprised by my sudden vehemence – while I certainly asked for things, they were usually music or books. I didn’t frequently beg for anything, aside from the ability to get online – and I quickly became a whiz at that.

She relented and bought me a guitar. Who knows what she thought I would do with it, but the night we brought it home I learned to play “Dilate” from a guitar tab (a what?), and started to slowly decipher the tab for “Gravel.” By the end of the summer I could play the song all the way through.

That’s where “Gravel” took my brain this morning – fifteen years ago, almost to the week. Half my life – a half completely changed because of my fascination with this single, amazing song.

Thank you, Mr. DiFranco.

luck in my blood

March 30, 2012 by krisis

It seems that the entire USA portion of the internet has Mega Millions on the brain today, which seems like a good excuse to take a break before I file my last two Madonna posts.

My grandmother had incredible luck. She won the lottery so many times I truly lost count. Not Mega Millions, clearly, or else I would be typing this to you on a laptop made of responsibly-mined diamonds. Daily pick three? Pick four? Scratch-off tickets? Slot machines? Yes, she could win at all of those games of absolute zero-strategy.

Pure luck. It was her sole income, other than Social Security. I think at one point it may have paid for a year of my private grade-school, but I could be remembering it wrong. Many comic books, at least.

I think a little of her luck was passed down to me. I have won or been picked for many things I’ve desired, against highly improbably odds. Notably, I won a guitar signed by my favorite band, Garbage, but that’s just one of many odds-defying wins I’ve had.

Whenever jackpots get very high, I always consider buying a few tickets. When people are surprised (given my typical anti-gambling stance), I explain to them that I stand a much better chance of winning than they do, because I have luck in my blood.

12 Awesome Madonna Songs You’ve Never Heard

March 28, 2012 by krisis

Welcome to Day 2 of my personal celebration of Madonna’s twelfth studio album, MDNA! I’ve been listening to it non-stop since yesterday morning, and some early favorites are beginning to emerge … but I’ll get to that later.

For all of her indelible hit singles, it’s easy to forget that Madonna knows how to deliver a stellar deep cut. Forget the hits. Forget the late-released low-charting singles. These are twelve Madonna songs you could only know if you play her albums front to back, and they’re all good.

12. Sooner or Later from I’m Breathless

Okay, this one is cheating a little bit – because it won a freaking Oscar. Now, that’s not an Oscar for Madonna – the Best Original Song award is for the songwriter, not the performer. Thus, Stephen Sondheim took home that naked golden idol in 1991. Yet, Madonna wound up with the song – a truly award-worthy torch song that she sings the hell out of. She delivers such a credible cabaret imitation that it stops being an imitation and starts being reality. (However, when it comes to Oscar, the beautiful “What Can You Loose” duet with Mandy Patinkin might have got my vote instead.)

11. Spanish Eyes from Like a Prayer

So, you like “La Isla Bonita,” huh? Did you know Madonna has another pseudo-Latin tune played on even more organic instruments, with a super-raw, almost screamed vocal performance? Sounds like something from American Life, you say? Nay – it’s the closer from “Like a Prayer.” It’s not one of her best songs ever, but it’s a wonderful glimpse at Madonna’s version of writing a follow-up single, which is disappearing entirely into the genre she previously imitated.

10. Nobody Knows Me from American Life

Madonna disappears inside of the machine on this American Life album cut that buries her deep beneath throbbing synthesizers and enough auto-tune to make Cher’s “Believe” blush. It comes off like an over-processed remix of itself, which cleverly distracts you from the brutal lyrics, like “But why should I care what the world thinks of me? Won’t let a stranger give me a social disease.” Madonna dressed this up with more beats and stunner choreography on the Reinvention Tour, but I still prefer the sucker punch of the stark album version.

Sunday Night Writers’ Club

February 28, 2012 by krisis

I am now a member of a highly-exclusive, secret society with strict qualifications for its members.

It’s a Writers’ Club. You know, like a Book Club, only we’re reading each others’ books (and short stories, and poems, etc).

As with many of the intriguing developments in my life over the past two years, my recruitment began innocently enough with a series of tweets to Britt and Eric Smith. They had been pulling all-day writing sessions in a local coffee shop and posting photos of their back-to-back laptops accompanied by mucho caffeine. I commented a few times on how that would be an altogether fabulous idea to get me back into gear in editing my 2010 NaNoWriMo novel.

The tattered, marked-up, hard copy of my novel.

That is when the mysterious invitation appeared in my inbox. No location, no details. Just a question – would I be interested in joining the Writer’s Club?

(Luckily, the first rule of Writers’ Club is not that you do not talk about Writers’ Club. Those sorts of clubs are not ones where I particularly flourish as a member.)

I nervously accepted the invitation and then spent about two solid weeks freaking out about other people reading my novel. Not just any other people. Writers. People who take plot and characterization seriously. Some of them have degrees in English.

Luckily, I was at least slightly prepared for their onslaught of literate opinions, but that preparation hadn’t been an easy process.

I spent the early part of 2011 reading and re-reading my novel, not really knowing what to do what to do next. The book had a lot of good bits, but I knew it wasn’t a very good book yet. It was like the skeletal structure of a very handsome person. No one calls a skeleton handsome, but good bones are a great start.

I just needed muscles and flesh to cover them up with.

I heeded the advice of many authors more experienced than I – I set the book aside for almost a whole year. Then, a year after I penned its first words, I printed the entire thing out on paper and began a serious edit pass.

Why paper? Because, any proofreader worth their salt will tell you they make better edits with a pencil in hand. Also, it encouraged me to read non-sequentially. Taking on each chapter as an individual entity meant I attacked the weak spots much harder than if I had read them in sequence.

Flash forward to two weeks ago. I had a fist-full of tattered pages that have been with me on every commute to work, every visit to the gym – even on the plane to Vegas. Once I was past my authorial nervous breakdown, the time had come to take all those painstakingly scribbled paper edits and convert them into something cohesive and readable.

How did my first top secret meeting go? Just fine (after I first got drunk and confessed to Eric how terrified I was). It turns out, other people do find my book interesting. Even people with English degrees. They also find all the awkward bits I find awkward to be awkward. They also find some fun turns of language and plot that I didn’t even intend, but that make perfect sense.

I am much less nervous about mailing the chapters for my second engagement with the club. Now the problem isn’t fear of sharing – it’s not being sure when I’ve edited enough.

That and the randomly failing keys on my laptop, but that’s a story for another day.