gina

My Best Pesto

April 21, 2017 by krisis

I don’t remember the first time I had pesto, but it is one of my favorite things to add to any food.

pesto-in-jar-crushingkrisis Pasta. Salmon. Shrimp. Toast. Eggs. Chips dipped directly into it. Pesto makes everything better. It’s also pretty much an entire spinach salad in every few spoons, which is how I help justify how quickly I can consume it compared to the amount of cheese and oil it contains.

I clearly recall having it at the appropriately-named Ristorante Pesto on Broad Street as a teenager, but that seems like such a late point in life to have tasted pesto for the first time.

Thus, while I wish I could say this is an old family recipe, it’s not – it’s just adapted from The Better Homes and Gardens cookbook over the course of dozens of trials over the course of the past decade. It used to be that E made it and then I just greedily consumed it. Finally, I became impatient about waiting for her to decide she felt like making pesto and so I made it myself and realized it is so easy to do (as long as you have a decent food processor).

Now I make double and triple batches every time so I can enjoy as much pesto as I want on my pasta and everything else.

Here is the ingredient list for an 8oz batch of pesto, which is probably enough to toss with for pasta for four. I use the alterations in parenthesis every time, but they make things more complex – you’ll do just fine ignoring them your first time. [Read more…] about My Best Pesto

35-for-35: 2003 – “Locked Box” by Frankie Big Face

November 21, 2016 by krisis

artist_frankie_big_face_image [Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug][/Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug]I can almost guarantee you’ve never heard this song before.

In 2003 Gina moved into our 44th street apartment and I was armed with my first set of serious recording gear. We were both writing a lot of new songs, many of which remain in our Arcati Crisis repertoire until this day.

I had stumbled upon a website called SongFight, which called out a random name for a tune into the void each week and then presented all of the songs written for it the next. (This is still happening today, by the way.) A few weeks after Gina came by to sing my first attempt at fighting, “Goodbye Monster,” she walked into my room, sat down, and played me “Moscow, Idaho” for the first time.

We didn’t win that SongFight, but I still think it’s one of the best songs ever written.

But, this isn’t about Gina. You see, through discovering SongFight, I discovered a massive online community of indie songwriters just like me – people who weren’t necessarily gigging out in bars and clubs, but who were holed up in their rooms recording each song they wrote – sometimes entire albums at a time.

I had found my people. And one of them, Frankie Big Face, was one of the best songwriters I’d every heard in my life.

This man could take any inane song title and tell you a story with it, breaking your heart a little along the way. With a voice like a hoarse David Bowie and songs that ranked from plaintive folk to Van Morrison 60s songwriter to synth pop, I was in awe of him. And he was just a regular guy – a high school music teacher and band director who lived within a hundred miles of me!

I loved (and still love) many Frankie Big Face songs, but none so much as “Locked Box,” which is like the secret best song Squeeze ever wrote but never recorded. It’s a song about a girl who is going through the motions while trapped in her own anxieties and it is catchy as hell. You’ve been warned.

The song comes with an awesome story. A handful of the most prominent and prolific SongFighters decided to have an album fight – an entire full length comprised of pre-determined song names, of which “Locked Box” was one. Frankie’s version of Smile If You Absolutely Have To is available to stream on Amazon or directly from his website (where he also provides the lyrics and lead sheets for all of his tunes). In fact, you can download “Locked Box” for free right now. Here’s another of my favorites, “Funny Enough For You.”

There is so much Frankie Big Face music out there for you to hear – he’s been writing at a pace much faster than mine for the dozen years since I discovered him, and recording exponentially more than I do. Honestly, I have about 10 years of his stuff to catch up on and am presently in a downloading frenzy to get it all into my iTunes.

Here’s his website’s discography. You can also check out his SoundCloud for more, including his interpretation of Beck’s Song Reader.

35-for-35: 1995 – “Lump” by Presidents of the United States of America

November 14, 2016 by krisis

[Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug][/Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug]Strap in for a story, folks. In fact, both songs today come with lengthy stories, but that makes sense – we’re really into my formative years at this point.

This isn’t necessarily my favorite song from 1995, but sometimes art reflects life, and when it comes to the songs of 1995 this is the one I wound up with all those years ago.

presidents-of-the-united-states-lump My burgeoning rock fandom really exploded in my Freshman year of high school as Gina and my loose cadre of middle school nerds coalesced into a group of rocking teenagers. Though I had the claim to fame of having seen Madonna as my first rock concert, I was growing jealous of our peers and their live music escapades.

I remember seeing Gina in her first play at Masterman sitting behind an entire row of kids from our class who had just been to an Offspring concert – the height of cool.

After what I’m sure was some amount of campaigning to my mother, she lamented and for my birthday purchased me a pair of concert tickets (one for me and one for Gina, of course – we weren’t quite inseparable yet, but quite a music-loving pair). Since my prohibitive favorite LP of 1995 was Garbage, my new favorite band, and since Garbage would be in Philly playing one block from Gina’s house, obviously that would be my mother’s selection.

Right?

Well, apparently I sang “Lump” at the top of my lungs out the car window one too many times, because the tickets were to see Presidents of the United States of America one night before Garbage.

I begged. I pleaded. I would find someone to buy the PUSA tickets. I would pay for the Garbage tickets, too! Please, for the love of Bowie, would she relent and let me see Garbage.

The Mother of Krisis was unyielding. She had done me a solid and not only granted me permission to go to a concert but bought the darn tickets and there were no takesies backsies going to happen. I would go and see “Lump” and like it.

(Let it be known that Mother of Krisis has never lived this down and still is reminded at least annually (plus whenever Garbage releases an album or I see them live, again) that it was her biggest parenting mistake of all time.)

(Which, credit where due, if this is your parent’s worst mistake of all time they are probably a slightly better than average parent, at minimum.)

the-presidents-of-the-united-states-of-america-4fd31761f15c2 I might have looked that gift horse in the mouth when offered the tickets, but when it came to the show – my first rock show – I was fully committed. We were in line early and in the second row of bodies from the stage. Gina and I still talk about the insane opening act, Supernova, and their gum-chewing, pogoing set that included the ridiculous tune “Chewbacca,” which we can still shout at you on command.

The Presidents were great. Honestly, as first rock shows go, you couldn’t do much better. It was a group of young, energetic dudes who played their instruments well and wrote inane songs about kitties and peaches – yes, another early influence on our totally weirdball songwriting.

As for “Lump” – what is she? A dead body? A stupid girl? A Gen Xer sleeping her way through life in more ways than one unless there’s an awesome band on stage? I tend to subscribe to that last one – Lump as a metaphor for someone stuck in the mud of life, circled by piranhas of bad decisions.

(“Totally emotionless except for her heart,” is the right answer, by the way.)

35-for-35: 1987 – “Where The Streets Have No Name” by U2

November 7, 2016 by krisis

[Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug][/Patreon-Nov16-Post-Bug]On September 24th. I found myself on stage in front of thousands of people, guitar held aloft beside my head, thrashing The Edge’s signature two-bar riff from the chorus of “Where The Streets Have No Name” while silently screaming with happiness.

As impressive and stadium-filling as many of U2’s epic early anthems are, when you break them down at the musical level you find that there’s very little there. Like, practically nothing. This song is pretty much a eighth-note bassline entirely of roots and a handful of chiming mid-neck electric guitar notes with a delay. Bono and Larry Mullen, Jr. do all the heavy lifting, and it’s not even all that heavy.

That’s fascinating to me, because I think this song sounds nothing less than majestic.

I discovered the simple bones beneath this epic song this summer as we prepared to play the first day finish line of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society’s City to Shore bike ride. My cover band Smash Fantastic had been invited back to play after missing 2015 due to a hurricane that never really came.

where-the-streets-have-no-name We had one problem – our lead singer, Ashley, would be at the happiest place on Earth during the show. She had even though about our charity gig while booking her Disney vacation, but was working from the later date of the previous year’s race.

Playing for the MS even is a cause that’s meaningful to me on several levels, so I didn’t want to pass up the chance to play and had Ashley’s blessing to perform without her. Yet, we couldn’t do that without a rocking female lead singer. Jake and I both sing lead on a significant portion of Smash Fantastic songs, they weren’t enough to fill a two hour gig – and, even if they were, they’d leave out tons of our most-popular tunes.

Enter by BFF and long-time collaborator, Gina. We had done covers on many occasions as Arcati Crisis, including once as a wedding band. Plus, Gina is a karaoke veteran who occasionally fronted a rock band for holiday dinners at her old job. While she wasn’t going to be tackling any Kelly Clarkson, the Smash classic rock rep is right up her alley.

With Gina’s came the assumption that we’d be learning a U2 song. There’s just something about Bono’s overdramatic delivery and not-quite tenor voice that maps perfectly onto Gina’s voice, but we never had the excuse to exploit that as Arcati Crisis. Gina, Jake, Zina, and I kicked around a few choices, and decided that this would be the most-appropriate to celebrate finishing between 25 and 90 miles of bike riding.

I wanna run, I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside.
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name.

the-joshua-tree-u2 There was much charting and mapping to get the song set for our first go at rehearsal. It was almost too simple for us to make work – so few notes create the overall tonality that one minor misstep sends the song spinning into something unfamiliar. Yet, once we got past counting issues, those simple pieces snapped together perfectly. Suddenly, we were creating that majestic sound.

We rehearsed it only three more times before the show; there was really nothing else to do other than count.

I wanna feel sunlight on my face.
I see the dust-cloud
Disappear without a trace.
I wanna take shelter
From the poison rain
Where the streets have no name

On stage on a gray, windswept September day we rolled out of the second chorus and into the refrain and I had my guitar held up high beside my head as I kept up the machine-gun strum of The Edge’s riff while mouthing the lyrics along with Gina as a way to choke back my tears.

The city’s a flood, and our love turns to rust.
We’re beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust.
I’ll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name

We’re still building and burning down love
Burning down love.
And when I go there I go there with you
(It’s all I can do)

For five minutes on September 24th, that majesty belonged to us.

Cover songs or originals – which are easier to play?

July 17, 2016 by krisis

We held an unusual rehearsal in our dining room today – three hours of running through the Smash Fantastic cover song repertoire, but as fronted by my Arcati Crisis co-writer and BFF Gina.

An incredibly rare, one-of-a-kind shot of the first time Gina and I performed music together on stage (also the first time I sang solo in public!) This was in 1997 at Masterman, peforming “Sharks Can’t Sleep” by Tracy Bonham. From left to right: me, Joanna, Lucy, and Gina.

The strange arrangement is the result of being asked to play a big benefit show during a week where Ashley will be on vacation. It’s a fun show and we love donating our time to it, so Ashley gave her blessing for us to play it with a fill-in vocalist.

Despite you all knowing Gina primarily for her amazing songwriting and intuitive harmony vocals, she is an awesome interpreter and karaoke veteran. It helps that the rest of the band – Jake, Zina, and I – is the same for both Smash Fantastic and Arcati Crisis.

It was a rollicking rehearsal full of surprises – for example, after over 20 years of friendship I found out that Gina loves “Because The Night” as much as I do, but she does not quite know how to sing Queen’s “Somebody To Love.” We also played a rare pair of our own “Holy Grail” and “Better” with Gina on vocals but not on guitars!

The most interesting part for me was the conversation while we packed up. As we were coiling wires, Gina mentioned off-handedly that she found getting the cover songs right to be much more challenging than playing in an original band.

That took me by surprise! Gina is a confident, experienced singer – I would never expect she would be stressed by cover songs. In fact, I invited her to fill in because I thought she’d find singing two hours of covers a relief in comparison to the stress of shredding through our own songs. However, her reasoning resonated: when you’re covering a song, there’s an existing standard to be held to. As great an interpreter as you may be, you’ve got to get the lyrics right and hit the expected high notes before people will even begin to consider if your performance is any good.

I know that’s the reality, but I’ve never considered it that way. For me, cover songs are a fun vacation from the intense challenge of playing original music.

With cover songs, you simply have to capture the spirit of a song people know well. While Jake tends to hew closely to the real basslines of songs, Zina and I approximate their drum fills and guitar riffs. It’s about verisimilitude. If you give a crowd a hint of the real thing, they don’t notice all the elements you leave out.

That works in our favor on songs for which we can’t quite assemble all the elements of a recording, but it also works in our favor – our covers of “Bang Bang” and “Uptown Funk” dress up the more bare originals considerably with additional passing chords, while even on a classic like “The Way You Make Me Feel” Jake has installed a more propulsive bassline that is only implied in the original.

The first time Gina and I played guitar together in front of people! This was in 1998 at Masterman, playing U2’s “With Or Without You” for the departing senior class. Psychedelic water damage courtesy of my Sophomore year apartment.

By contrast, playing originals is terrifying! The only context the audience has are the notes coming from the stage. There is no earned good will or existing song that will put a smile on their face. And, even when you’re in top shape with a set of good songs, it’s impossible to know when they’re good enough.

It’s like doing yoga – you can always challenge yourself to sink deeper into a pose. I have songs that are nearly 20 years old that I still haven’t mastered playing; I found extra harmony on one just a few weeks ago that makes it sound more like itself than it ever has before.

Gina doesn’t have that anxiety. To her, an original song is something entirely under her control not only to interpret, but to shape and transform. The entire point of the thing is that it belongs to you and it might continue to evolve. That’s nothing to be afraid of – it’s a joy.

I was so intrigued that as best-friends and co-writers Gina and I could differ on this point, but it explains a lot about our relative comfort over the years as performers. There’s no disputing that I’m more vivid and energetically myself on stage in Smash Fantastic, just as Gina is obviously transfixing in Arcati Crisis when she settles into playing an original like “Song for Mrs. Schroeder.”

It will be an interesting eight weeks of getting 30 songs ready for this cover gig, but I think I’m even more intrigued by what Gina and I will know about ourselves afterward when we turn our attention back to originals for the first time in three years.

the room where it happened

June 14, 2016 by krisis

I sat in an uncomfortable wooden seat in Masterman’s cavernous auditorium. It was my first time attending the annual day of health awareness presented by our Peer Educators, which kicked off with a live program.

The theme that year was awareness of sexual assault. Between speeches, songs, or short plays, a single student would emerge from behind the curtain and stand alone in the spotlight. They stood there and shared a story of assault – not their own, but one solicited from friends or family. The stories were told in the first person, sometimes in the present tense – frank and unfiltered. They weren’t something you would expect to see on a high school stage, but absolutely something that ought to be there.

A portion of the program ended, bringing us to another punctuating monologue. A young man stepped out onto the stage. He had his hair in little twists and a flannel shirt around his waist, as was the style at time. And he just… talked. About being a kid, about joy and wonder, and about how his assault ended that.

It’s not my story to share or repeat, but I remember so many elements of that monologue to this day. Words, but pauses, too. The look on his face.

I was dumbstruck by it. Not because I was a survivor of assault. Not because a man was delivering the story rather than a woman. I was struck because of the piercing honesty of the words. There was no moment of latency between the actor and the performance. I knew they weren’t his own words, but he made it impossible to believe.

Sometime later the lights came up and students filtered out of auditorium to attend workshops on consent, healthy body image, and safe sex. My mind was still on the stage. As I watched my peers have open discussions about their experiences, questions, and fears, I had one thought fixed in my mind: I needed to become a Peer Educator. What they were doing was important. They were not only educating, but creating fundamental shifts in thinking.

2016-tony-awards-leslie-odom That young man was Leslie Odom, Jr, a frequent supporting player on TV and Aaron Burr in Broadway’s Hamilton. I went to middle school with him, but knew him from a distance only as the kid with the golden voice who sang at assemblies and was an 8th grader playing a lead in the high school play. I actually met him in Freshman year. I sat next to him in geometry; he read the lyrics to Lisa Loeb’s “Taffy” at a poetry slam.

I am sure that Leslie doesn’t recall me. He has no reason to. I don’t recall if we had a single conversation before he switched schools to pursue his creative pursuits. Honestly, I was always a little starstruck by him.

I recall that monologue, though. It was still playing in my head when I joined the Peer Education program during the next call for applications. I still think about it from time to time; I can still play it back.

I spend a lot of digital ink talking about how my BFF Gina made performance look easy and helped me discover my life as a performer, but I often overlook that I also went on to produce pair of those health awareness assemblies and facilitate those workshops. That was a massive part of my transformation and newfound self-confidence as a performer and occasional activist. I had never voluntarily been on a stage before. I became the one delivering the performances and monologues to the school. I’d never have Leslie’s control or gravitas, so I found my own way. I mocked convention. I mocked myself. I tried to make everyone think while they laughed.

On Sunday night, Leslie won a Tony Award. I would give him one myself, if I could, for that one monologue still seared into my brain and how it contributed to changing my life. I’ve now been a performer for more than half of it. I used to file into the auditorium as an audience member, but now I’m at home on stage. It’s how I met my wife. I’m a steadfast advocate for a sexual health and reproductive rights. I’m raising my daughter with the idea that she has autonomy over her body and that consent matters for everyone.

Leslie won a Tony Award and I cried before I even saw his acceptance speech.

Congratulations, Leslie. I am extraordinarily happy for you and I can never thank you enough.