I never wanna retune my guitar again. Ever. I don’t know what got into me, but last night after i got done chatting with Re i was listening to a solo recording of Peter Mulvey‘s “Grace,” and i suddenly decided that it would be fun to figure out how to play it. Of course, “Grace” occurs in the tuning CFCFAC, while a guitar starts off in EADGBE. So… that took about a half hour in and of itself, and after that i still had to figure out how to play the song. It was here that my semester of aural skills kicked in, and i easily found some basic notes that had been eluding me on all other occasions of toying with the song. However, the problem with Peter Mulvey is often not finding what notes he’s playing, but where he’s playing them. I’m quite sure i nailed down his pattern on the main riff, but past that i have all the right notes in all the wrong places. Compare: me vs. Peter.
Achieving that first relative victory, i decided to move on the the more impossible, “A Better Way to Go,” which i have seen Peter perform live sitting as close as i am to my computer without being able to play it afterwards. Happily, last night was one of my so-called “magic ear” nights, and the song was hardly even a challenge … i got much closer to the actual sound of it than i did on “Grace,” though i can’t hardly play the scales that he uses inbetween chords. Compare: me vs. Peter.
As a result of all of this fooling around, i think my legendary page of obscure guitar chords (Tori, Ani, Mulvey) is going to finally make its appearance on Uprush any day now, with some fun new additions. WheE!
Peter Mulvey
So, my mother doesn’t share stories from her youth too often, but there are three very infamous tales from when she was my age about David Bowie. You see, my mother used to be obsessed with Mr. Bowie. If you were to take my fanatical worship of Peter Mulvey, combine it with the awe in which i regard Tori Amos, and then send that all through my nearly frightening dedication to the cast of Friends, you might get to somewhere near how my mother felt about David Bowie.
Her one claim to fame is that she met Bowie in the Sigma Sound studio while he was recording Young Americans here in Philadelphia. At first this story was simple… her friend knew the percussionist, so they got into the studio and then Bowie came out and motioned vaguely in their direction. Over the years i managed to eek some more details from her, like the fact that Bowie was discussion a saxophone passage with David Sanborn (who played on the record). Then i learned (from VH1, which never lies) that David Bowie was on so much cocaine when he recorded in Philly that some of it is actually a blur to him now. I made sure to rub this in my mom’s face at every opportunity, but she’s trumped my coked-up-Bowie with a brand new detail divulged this weekend. Apparently, she got into the studio not because her friend knew the percussionist, but because the percussionist stepped outside for a smoke and asked if anyone had any rolling papers. Of course, my mother’s friend did have them, and somehow they got them into the studio, where her paper-possessing friend proceeded to vainly attempt to make conversation with a surely glazed-over Bowie.
Isn’t she a fun gal? I’m starting to have suspicions about why she doesn’t recall the experience too well…
i have the oddest singing range: not high enough to sing along to the high parts of tenor vocals, but not low enough to sing most female parts an octave low. In a way i’m a bit intimidated by my higher range, because i’ve got to belt stuff out for it to come out on pitch. I always approach the notes from underneath for some reason, makes me sound shaky, so it’s either a shaky approach or a blind wailing of the note in question. Either way, it ends absolutely at E unless i venture into falsetto, even if i’m totally warmed up. Usually it’s more like D. However, it used to be C, so i’m getting better. Still not high enough to follow all of the Tenors i listen to (Peter Mulvey comes to mind; i can hit *most* of his notes) though i can sorta sing along with aimee mann note for note, but it gets sketchy on choruses. No word yet on the range of the song i have to sing in Good Woman of Setzuan.
I absolutely dislike Am i Hot or Not? because it’s obviously a very negative environment where only the very conventionally sexy are given any credit. Having said that, it’s been brought to my attention that my folk-idol Peter Mulvey has had his picture uploaded to that wretched website. It’s always been one of my favourite shots of him, and i encourage you all to go and give my favourite singer-songwriter a rating higher than 5 or 6 so that he won’t feel ugly if he ever goes to take a look. Or, maybe not all singer-songwriters have such fragile egos, but i’m not sure yet.
If i could choose one of my favourite songs to own as though i wrote it myself, it might be this one:
out here when you light a smoke on the porch you can hear the paper burning the moon is the only light; in the silence you can hear it turning down over the ridge by the highway you hear the cars come and fade it’s like that out here, you can hear things from miles out and miles away/ out here i make the only human light, i am the only human sound it’s my privilege to lie awake at night and think of what i lost, hope for what might be found out here you find out who your friends are when the darkness comes to kill the day there’s an ache in every corner of the heart for the ones who are miles away/ out here there’s always work to be done and i do what i can came down to a choice: love or run. i ran winter will come and get a hold on my heart and i will long for your touch wonder what kind of fool am i, why’d i leave it if i loved it so much?
i will call you, struggle for the words to say swear that i am working on what keeps me miles away/ out here it’s not as bad as i tell it — got your rocks, rivers, trees
nothing comes easily but what does has brought at last a little peace out here it’s so silent you can hear your heart talking one day that heart might tell you which way to go, and you might start walking/ you know that i will, know that i will – ‘out here’ peter mulvey