Anyway, here in Kalamazoo, other than performing for a few thousand nice American kids of all ethnicities, I found the new musical setting for this little story about the commercialization of Christmas--all our ancient holidays, for that matter.
It has to do, developmentally, with
Electric Jack, a new song story I've been ending every single performance with. Fairly solid blues/rock, I suppose you'd call it, with me stomping away on a midi drum to keep the beat. I feel like a Rube Goldberg device--all manners of switches and wheels--yet I see how much the kids love it, and the adults, so I've finally gotten control of it. The instrumental part-- that is, in combination with the singing of the lyrics (which has become increasingly outrageous and fun lately)--has become rather juicy.
For years I specialized in acoustic twelve-string guitar. But having purchased a Gibson SG, a sublime instrument, and having traveled out here only with it, a Taylor 12-string for
The Little Shepherd and
The Storm Breeder, and my sanza, I haven't had the usual armamentarium of musical instruments in my life I usually have the privilege to compose upon. So, suddenly, the SG electric has received disproportionate attention, the result of which is the new rocknroll music for
The Takeover Before Christmas.
I've been brought out here for three weeks by Education for the Arts, a Lincoln Center Institute affiliate here in Kalamazoo. Bryan Zocher, Jeffrey Harkins, Barbara, Roan, Jen, all the Teaching Artisits, the Gilmore Foundation--so many nice people. Hard working people who understand that without the arts in children's lives, children will simply assume that the world is a vast landscape of dead television and video games. Which causes depression, of course, but we Americans don't want to talk about that very much. How our media is causing widespread depression among our children. Hell no. Think of all the money that is being made, after all.
Rick Steward, my companion for the tour, drives a Mitsubishi Eclipse, steel gray, with a hatchback that holds the PA, all the instruments, and my black clothes. He's felt the brunt of this compositional attack, but I think he's okay with it. He sets up the PA, I set up the instruments, and we usually have about a half-hour for me to warm up prior to the arrival of the children. So I've been playing this new rocknroll nonstop, and he's had to listen to the fumblings and explorations all week. Still, he seems okay with it. Great guy. An archaeologist/actor.
Anyway, the new rocknroll is in the key of C. Always avoided the key of C on acoustic guitar because it always struck me as the most well trammeled, threadworn folk music key that exists. Folk music is considered by modern American children to be absolutely quaint, considering the legacy of Kurt Kobain and the junkies. So for me to venture into this key was novel, to say the least. Nevertheless, with my Fender Mini Deluxe amp, which cost a whopping $25, feeding into the main system, the distortion and drive on the notes is plenty to have ushered me into an entirely new musical realm.
And it's sounding sweet to me. But then again, I'm a walking talking anachronism anyway, but I think kids need to hear some live music, real music, played by somebody's fingers right in front of their eyes, rather than the soupy lip-synch televised garbage they've grown up with.
Which, if you think about it, also contributes to their cynicism, and therefore to their general depression.
So we're back full circle.
I'll only perform this piece during the Holidays. I'll end the show with it. It's just too intense for any other spot, and too ornate, and too fun, to be followed by any of my more traditional tales. And tonight, outside the back of my huge white Italianate house where I've been dwelling for three weeks, I realized that. And I came up with the singalong lyric, the invitation to the audience to sing with me.
The lyric is very simple.
Uh huh.
Uh huh.
Uh huh.
Uh huh.
