March 9, Providence, RI @ Firehouse 13

A few days before, I get a link to the website of the organization that is putting it on. It is blinky. It is scary. It is soooooo blinky. I am deeply deeply afraid. Everyone is traumatized by the web design when I show them. This is the direct link to the most insanely blinky parts of it, but I don't know how long it will stay up.

I leave Lebanon, NH at 4pm, certain that I've left something crucial behind. Mid-way through, I'm convinced that this is my laptop. When I get there, I check and I haven't forgotten anything.

I get there about an hour early, before anyone else is gonna be there. So, I end up going and getting a coffee at McDonald's, which is really bizarre and 50's space age inside. It also has internet. I haven't actually been to a McDonald's in a really long time, so maybe all McDonald's are like that. This guy says, "HI!!!" really loudly and then he says, "I like saying hi to people!!". At this point, I figure out that he is talking to me, and I mumble, "hey" or something. I am worried he is crazy. A few minutes later, the manager tells him and his girlfriend to leave. Before they do, he comes over to me (I'm sitting at my computer, in front a window over-looking my car) and says, "I like smart women."

I think, it could be that I'm not smart. It could just be that I have enough money to buy a laptop, which is different thing. Anyways, then he tells me he's made his girlfriend jealous by talking to me, and they leave. She falls down as they are leaving and if I didn't think so before, I think they are on something.

Well, at eight, I head back to the Firehouse 13. Still no one is there, but I bring all my stuff in and chill. Finally, a guy comes down, and we're like, "Hey!" I say, "I'm Courtney, I'm going to play tonight. I'm in from New Hampshire?"

He says, "Do you need anything? We have spaghetti upstairs and lots of tea. I'll leave the door unlocked." I say I don't need any spaghetti. Then, he disappears. I'm at a loss, so I try and go upstairs after a bit, just to figure out what's going on. The upstairs is locked.

Another fifteen minutes, and someone finally shows and lets me into the gallery. Its actually quite a big space, with a small raised stage. He's not the guy that's supposed to be there. That guy is going to be an hour late. So, I take a table and start setting up on the stage. Someone else shows up and starts asking me lots of questions. I smile and nod and finally tell him I'm not in charge. He's like, "oh". Also, it turns out they have internet, so I start IMing with Stefan as I'm getting things ready. It is surreal.

Maralie, the person who booked me, finally shows up. She looks hip and she also plays the accordion it turns out. She tells me the other band is probably going to be punk, and the other band, Lazy Magnet, showed up the wrong day: yesterday. So, they aren't playing tonight. I decide to play my really pop dance yet Wagnerian-esque song at that point. If there is a punk band on the bill with me, anything goes!

She helps the lost guy who has the video poetry, too. It isn't his poetry, he just helped do the video editing. Unfortunately, she doesn't know anything about the PA, so we are all waiting for Justin. I show the video poetry guy (who is actually a graphic artist) my set-up and we chat some. He seems cool. We both hope people will show up. Justin finally shows up past 9:30pm and I get sound out, etc. I change into my post-modern cabaret attire... ready to go! People are showing up... young college scenester-types.

Interesting conversation: Justin apparently saw Oktophonie at Harvard with 32-surround sound speakers. We talk about how Stockhousen is crazy... how he's a meglomaniac and comes from outerspace. He mentions Cardew's Stockhousen Serves Imperialism... turns out he didn't actually read it, and then I geek out over Christian Wolff, etc. etc. and he says, "I'm not a music student, you know," and I realize I've taken the conversation away from comfortable territory or something. er. He mentions that he's publishing a tract of fanfiction by some woman about Xena: Warrior Princess which seems really surreal to me. It's apparently a commentary on fandom itself, etc., and wonder if its ironic at all. I hope its not. I hope it is earnest.

The band arrives, late. I'm already set-up, so I'm first. They start the video poetry. It is amazingly primitive. Words appear like: "The woman I love is not in the same room with me." "The Man that I love is in this room" and "epiphany" appearing on the screen several times and floating "yes yes yes no no no yes yes" and hot pink backgrounds. It is 80s, kinda. They ask me if they can have video poetry behind me, and I say, "no". They are cool with it. They put on the second DVD, and I get a beer. The poetry starts to become obscene stories. Awesome.

Now I go on. I say, "my set starts very pop, and then everything breaks down into experimental electronics. Everything will break down." Someone says, "yeah!". I play, "one day", and people dance a little. They seem kinda into it, but this kids are too hip too dance, I think. Or, that is the vibe I get. I keep a running commentary throughout my set and say what every song is about. Partly because I have to set-up shit at the computer. Everything goes okay. I feel very alone on stage; it is surreal. I am used to having a band. I mess up initializing "Study in Losing Control" and realize after singing a bit that the electronics aren't going to kick in. I just stop it and start it again. It's fine... I'm not even embarrassed or anything. I'm like, "alright kids, that's actually not responding to me, its not just being unpredictable"

I explain my last piece. I say it is a task piece and they I am following a dot with my sensor, but that I will fail. I think maybe next time I will not mention that it is designed for failure. At the end of balancing act, I collapse, but it is completely staged and not real at all. I am curiously lacking in emotion for the entire set actually, and everything I do is artifice. I feel in control but at a loss, if that makes sense. I am not in the moment, I feel.

After my set, the artist in residence at Firehouse 13 comes down and tells me he really likes it, which was nice. We talk later, and he is very interested in collaboration so I give him my information. He asks for a cd, and that reminds me that I should make a bunch of demos for the tour. Various people are interested in my tech set-up. "Do you use MAX/MSP?" Me: "NO!" I need a t-shirt that says, "I do NOT use MAX/MSP!!!" or MAX/MSP with an "X" through it.

The second act sets up lightening fast. WOW. They are very raw punk. Very very. 3 girls and a guy, which is just really hip. These kids are unspeakably hip and fun. I feel old. They have an a cappella chant about the boys with eyeliner that they met during Warped Tour 2002. I approve and also share their taste in men. HAhaha! They have a cello player who plays it distorted through an amp. It is... so different from what I did! They do have video poetry in the background and it is very obscene. This thing about a woman doing a 360˚ on some guy's cock keeps on showing up. Something about a different kind of dessert. Also, the singer in the band screams "cunt!" and "titties!" over and over. I find out later they just got together last week and had about 2 hours practice. Ha! That is so raw.

So, then everything is over and Maralie helps me carry stuff to my trunk. She is apologetic more people didn't show.... apparently there was some confusion about it being the day before, but there were way more people there than usually show up to a Vaughn or even a Spheris show. Also, I found out I got the gig about 5 days before I played it, so I figure its a net gain whatever happens. Gave me a chance to test run things. Also, they forgot to take a door. I didn't know there was supposed to be a door. Ah, well.

I truck it all the way back home. Its not that bad, except for I'm forced to stop and eat at a McDonald's because everything else is closed. Ugh. I had no idea there were so many McDonalds and so little other types of fast food around. Ugh Ugh. I mean, I don't like fast food, but there slightly better things. Even the gas stations are closed on the inside. I really tried not to eat McDonald's. I had chicken nuggets and fries.

I listen to Paul Simon's Rhythm of the Saints album almost the whole way. Then, the Paris Combo album.

Its snowing for about 20 minutes in New Hampshire. Everything glitters.

March 2 retrospectacle

I wake up extremely ill and extremely late. Carmen is also ill and sleeping late. We cram Beau, my accordion, a guitar, a viol da gamba, a Kristina, me, Carmen, laptops, and backpacks all into my tiny civic. I have "Losing my Religion" on infinite repeat, because I infinite repeat songs as a matter of course. But I stop this for the sanity of others.

By the time we get to Connecticut I have turned into a miserable coughing wreck. Others offer to drive but I am not willing to stop since we are so late. I am valient and also needlessly melodramatic. I recover, tho, after we get there, and I've been sitting for a while.

Me: Will it break your heart not to do Wolff's Tilbury?
Beau: I hate the Tilbury.
Me: No practice! Let's eat lunch!

We eat Indian food. David seems boistrous. Matt is good-humored. I am off and on with attention.

Carmen gives me dayquil. I take a lot of it. And also get a large Americano. That's four shots of expresso, mind you. I am human again! kinda!

I set up my piece. No disasters. It is actually painless. I get changed into my post-modern cabaret hey-I'm-kinda-Edward-Gorey-like-I-swear costume. (David says "before you were sick now you're sick") The lace does an excellent job of hiding my accelerometer.

First thing: free improv. I can't remember a thing about it. Just sitting with my accordion and playing some descending half-steps on the bass... Everyone stands up and bows but that's too hard for me because the accordion is too heavy.

The show! Beau's piece is nice with the acoustics. I like it. Kristina's piece is crazy beautiful and man it really made me wish I could play the gamba worth something... Carmen's piece was v. good. I remember thinking it was way better than anything I'd heard at ICMC.

My turn. I get up. I turn on the sound but I can't hear it. Turns out its just cos the monitors are in front. OOOOOOooookay. Well, I restart everything and then go. I can hardly hear anything at all. I hear enough to stay in tune. I don't cough at all... its a miracle.

Okay, so for this show, I've rigged the set-up for my piece, balancing act to be very easy. I'm supposed to follow a moving invisible dot. Well. The dot isn't moving. Its still hard! I watch the screen for a while, totally cheating, before I resign myself, suck it up, and actually start doing it by ear. I can't actually hear myself so I just suck. There's no progression. I fake a progression actually. Its true that I am not quite sure what I'm doing because I'm trying to fake something or whether I'm actually trying to find that damn dot. I mean, its in the same place!

At some point, the cord falls out of my mic. I don't know how this happens... it just does. Well, I have to take my free hand with the accelerometer and fix it regardless. I remember thinking: oh, this is perfect. This is just what I'm talking about.

At one point in the song, where I'm just saying stuff... I tell myself: this is sad, remember. this is where you fall apart. and I'm out of it, I'm not remembering that. So, I'm like: okay... what am I saying? I am saying actually, the contents of a personal blog entry that is friends-locked on my myspace blog that I wrote when I found out something awful had happened to my sister. I have to remind myself at this point. Ironically, what I say is: "I am in this moment" and then I repeat that for a bit.

Then, I go into the bit where I say, "If I could save you all the time" again and again. Here, I'm like, maybe I should fall apart more here? hmmm.... and then everything runs out and there is just the organ-y sound and most everything is over. I stand still and I'm sort of mumbling my lyrics, and I'm thinking: so, do I collapse on the floor and start making high-pitched noises like in practice or is that just too much? In the end, I decide standing still and losing it that way is less rehearsed. I feel indecisive. I also reach over and fade out the song instead of letting it go the painful minute where nothing else happens. Maybe when I feel a little less jumped up on cough medicine and caffeine.

At the end, I say: "That was from my series, Every Night I Lose Control." I'm all composed and stuff. That's to be like: "No, I am a sane person. That's just my act." That's what I really meant when I said that.

Afterwards, Beau told me I made him feel very uncomfortable. I give him a thumbs up. Kristina asked me how much of it was real (the emotional part, I think, maybe)... I think I mumble something about it being inbetween. Stanlislavski, you know, but I am too sick to give her my spiel and she probably doesn't want to hear it in its entirety at that moment. I don't believe in reality anyways.

We end with an improv. All of us Dartmouth people keep on trying to end it at one point, but David & Nolan just keep on going. and going. NOooOoooooOOooOOOoooOOOOo! but it does end finally. I think I just stop playing my accordion at one point because I am so wrecked.

I meet some Hartt professors who now think I am a crazy person. They like my gloves. They like seeing the accelerometer. OOoo, shiny! Techy! One asks me if I use MAX. I say: NO!

We drive home. Beau drives actually.