The hour-and-a-half went by in a snap, and I could have easily gone another half-hour. It might have been nature of the event. You know, wine & art in the park. And it might have been the home-town welcome. But the moment was surprisingly intimate — suitable for a singer/songwriter sitting on a chair, wearing a tie and a fedora, with a guitar, a ukulele, and a few stories to tell. It was just me hanging out with an audience sitting on blankets in the sun on a grassy field. Not much different from a wine-bar or coffee house gig.

My eyes were opened to the potential power of the solo set about 6 years ago, when I was booked as an opener for Jerry Joseph at John Henry’s in Eugene. Jerry was on a solo acoustic tour, without the Jackmormons. But I didn’t have a solo set worked up at the time, so I brought my band The Blue Rebekahs.

Conventional wisdom says that full bands play after acoustic acts. But conventional wisdom also says that John Shipe plays before Jerry Joseph. So I asked him: “Hey Jerry, is it all right that I brought my band?”

Jerry answered, “I ain’t afraid of no f–kin’ band.”

(Now, before you interpret this brusque response as rude, I should tell you that Jerry later invited me to sit in on his set. After I jammed on two songs, he said, “It sounds so good, why don’t you just stay up here and play the rest of the show.” Graciousness with fellow musicians can be one of Jerry’s golden features.)

In that moment, I vowed to also never be afraid of playing solo, in any environment, on any stage, on any bill. The trick is to make sure that your acoustic versions are not merely quieter versions. They are different; not less. You gotta lean into that difference. Sing along with the solo acoustic instrument that you’re playing in the moment, not the absent band in your head. Furthermore, as you embrace the intimacy, you’ll find it surprising just how aggressive, rockin’ and big you can get all by yourself. But it must make sense in sonic context. (I have discovered this in my acoustic version of Al Toribio’s “Letter Home.” In The Renegade Saints, this song is powerful, grandiose Southern rocker. By my lone acoustic self, I enter the song softly, relaxed. 3 minutes later, I find myself belting out the vocals and banging out the chords, but in an entirely “acoustic” way, earned through a gradual intimate trajectory.)

About that ukulele. I’m still working on it. I can’t keep it tune, my rhythms are plain, and I haven’t yet tapped into those wonderful uke-swinging 4-note chords that make it so special. But damn! It never fails to be a showstopper. One woman came up to me later: “When I heard that ukulele, I came running over to the stage to see what was going on.” So, no doubt I will be delving deeper into uke territory.

This does my heart good. I was in awe of that lineup’s imaginative proportions, and proud of that album’s creativity–knowing it had little commercial value.

It’s surprising that Dan chose this video. But I’m glad he did. While I’m an Americana artist, pushing an Americana CD, I have an alter-ego who grew up on the British Artrock of King Crimson, Yes, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, and Moody Blues. “West of Eden” is a dark, epic art-rocker about taking the difficult path in life. We placed it last on the album, destined to wallow in indie obscurity for an eternity.

I always hoped that these guys would get the recognition they deserve for their interpretations of my songwriting. It was the only time where I gave no direction to the players. I just let them do what they thought was interesting and moving. They each came from different musical angles, taking songs in directions I hadn’t anticipated. I simply basked in their musical intelligence and sometimes strangeness. The result wasn’t quite a crazy avant-garde album. (the arrangements are ultimately quite sensible.) But, The Blue Rebekahs is nothing if not unique. And after Ehren Ebbage’s bang up re-mix, it’s rings pleasanter on the ear.

West of Eden
You should have gone West of Eden.
Then you could have gotten something started
And you wouldn’t get so downhearted,
Looking back on life in the Garden.
You should have gone West of Eden
You should have gone West.
You should have gone West of Eden,
When the angels broke up your party.
You know you couldn’t work any harder,
And you never did make a good martyr.
You should have gone West of Eden
You should have gone West.
You should have gone West of Eden.
Then you wouldn’t have to prove yourself,
Over and over again.
And you wouldn’t need so much help.
You should have gone West of Eden
You should have gone West.

The Spring Standards got under my skin last night at splendid small venue in Ventura called Zoey’s Cafe. If I had a band for Yellow House , The Spring Standards would be the Yellow House players. A drumless trio, two dudes trading guitars and bass, and a woman on piano, xylophone and melodica. They all sing. And the lyrics they sing make your heart hurt.

Two slightly inaccurate samples from memory: “Say it/Say the words I see behind your eyes/If it’s not hard to say/then it’s a lie.”
And: “Bending backwards for you honey/I’ll be the one to hold your sad salt eyes/There’ll be nothing left of my honey/But it’s alright.

Yeah, I was moved. In fact I think I heard myself say, “That was the most moving set of music I’ve heard in years.”

They were the openers. Headlining were Joey Ryan & Kenneth Pattengale. These guys are truly amazing. Beautiful songs, flawless execution–enhanced by Kenneth’s first class lead playing. And genuinely funny ad-lib stage presence between each song. They have a low-key dead pan stage banter that works really well in intimate venues like Zoey’s.

I met Joey Ryan a few nights ago, through Ehren Ebbage. He was funny, striking me with an obvious intellect, and I wondered what kind of music he makes. I sort imagined Portland hipsterism. But on stage, mid-song, it was all emotion. No artifice whatsoever. Ehren had warned me about Joe & Ken, saying “You’ll definitely feel like you’re watching a special show.”

Zoey’s, by the way, is a venue I hope to play sooner than later, if a spot opens up for me. That could be awhile though. ‘Cause Steve the owner, who was warm and forthcoming, graciously receiving my packet (with brand new album), informed that what I was seeing on his stage happens every night.

But now I’m taking some time with my morning coffee at Muse in Seattle to think and talk about the second 2010 installment Music’s Edge Camp, at which I’ll be teaching all next week. (Monday the 7th through Friday the 13th.) This is the 3rd year for me. And each time it is an exhausting, rewarding and uplifting experience that I look forward to all year.

It’s directed by Tim McLaughlin. (One of my bandmates in The Blue Rebekahs.) It’s happening at WOW Hall. There’s still time to register, if you’re a kid in the Eugene, OR area between the ages of 10 & 17.

The other instructors are Zak Johnson and Ehren Ebbage.

Enrollment has been increasing over time, so we had to have two sessions this year. Last month, I had a great group of beginning kids who scratched and clawed and hammered away all week until they reached epic rock-n-roll proportions with a set of 6 classic tunes:
“Sweet Child of Mine”
“Stir it Up”
“Holiday”
“Sunshine of Your Love”
“Back in Black”
“”Helter Skelter”

On the last night of camp, we held a big show on the WOW Hall stage. It’s amazing just how good they can get in one week. They respond with flying colors to the task of rehearsing and digging deep for quality. The results are entertaining and inspiring.

I’ll be blogging extensively about this later. For now, I’ve got to back to the studio and server Master Ebbage.

The P.A. system we carry around has no monitors. But the Moon Time has a flat wall behind the bar, pretty close to us in front of the stage. So we crank that system up, hacking away at our rocker tunes, like “Road Story,” “I’m not Sorry,” and Jerry Joseph’s “World Will Turn.” Andthe sound bounces back at us, guitars and voices blended in a beautiful swirly wash. (Oh, those poor bar tenders!)

Funny, the Moon Time is a small intimate place, with all the makings of quiet acoustic venue. (While John’s Alley is a big ole wood & concrete tavern suitable for kicking ass.) But Moon Time is a talkative audience on Thursday–Dollar Microbrew Pint Night. This puts us acoustic folkie-singer-songwriter-troubadors in a potentially awkward postition, especially with Ebbage’s high ballad-to-rocker ratio. (All those sweet love songs.) But you have to trust that the crowd is listening and appreciating in their dollar-pint-night way. They don’t play the role of “audience” exactly, but you must play your set with assurance and authority nonetheless. They know when they’re hearing something of quality, even though they don’t sit with eyes glued to the stage, hanging on your every word of song-introduction. In this kind of atmosphere, you don’t waste time between songs. Keep it moving, and take advantage of those moments in the night when they do seem to want a bit of stage talk.

They never fail to show their appreciation. Always chatting us up between sets and after the show, buying CD’s and getting on the mailing list.

And thank god I finally bot my lap steel act together, making myself more welcome on those lovely Ebbage tunes.

I would have liked to play better, I was a bit uneven on lap steel, making a bloody mess of Ebbage’s sweet songs. I’ve got four gigs to fix that, and I’m better rested for tonight’s gig at Moontime in Coeur D’Alene.

Alley folks were kind to us as usual. Buying CD’s and chatting us up and down about our solid music–even though we were a little off this time. (It wasn’t quite the zone we were in when we played Ashland last time… when I ended up hospitalized for a supposed kidney stone… which I still have… even though it’s not a kidney stone…It’s a herniated disc, which I still have…. which makes it scary to drive 8 hours and then sing & play for 4 hours… songs like “Crawlspace” and “Imitation Man” especially… But I’m okay, I think.) We must have come along way since 1997, because even though we felt “off,” we still managed to sell some CD’s.

Towards the end of the night, when we were really starting to fade, a fellow came up to us, named Matt and said: “Hey guys, it’s getting late, and no one’s really listening, you want some sax?” (Hmm, it sounds rude when I write it here, but it wasn’t rude the way he said it.) Although I was just about tapped out and ready to call it a night, I wanted to hear what he would sound like with us. (He’s part of a band with Bennet the accordion player from Ala Zingara, so he had some automatic credibility there.) He warmed up on recorder as I played Green Day’s “Good Riddance.” Next, I challenged him with Bossa Nova “Just in Time.” Sounded great, so we finished off with “Don’t Pass Montgomery By.” Nice.