(The venue’s fantastic logo was created by my buddy Keith Neltner of Neltner Small Batch.)
Sidebar: perhaps you read about Whiskey City’s Liberty Theater in Cincinnati Magazine’s Fall Arts Preview last year? If not, you can rectify that omission from your reading list right here. The author’s name sounds familiar to me…
I really had no business driving that far to see an 8 o’clock show on a “school night.” Especially with severe weather alerts across the Tri-State. But I want to support Dan McCabe – the brains behind the venue’s reinvention, and a legendary music promoter. He’s doing his best to bring great music (and comedy, and whiskey tastings, and record fairs, and fried chicken) to a somewhat sleepy river town. Besides, my friend Dave told me weeks ago that he’d be there for the show. Good tunes and good company – worth the trip.
Dave didn’t show – he’s had some health issues recently and his wife didn’t want him driving alone in bad weather.
The crowd was sparse. (I talked to Dan at the show and he’s playing the long game – some of the artists he’s booking might have 40 for their first show, but 150 for their next one based on word of mouth.)
The venue is a gorgeous, lovingly restored 130-year-old music hall, with a top-notch sound system.
The opener, Dale Hollow, was a lot of fun – even though he had to compete with the tornado sirens that went off during his set. (We were spared, just heavy rain… I know you were worried about my safety.)
Sarah Shook & the Disarmers are on tour to promote their latest album Revelations. But before the tour started, it turned into a farewell tour too. Health issues for one longtime band member, and personal issues for another, made it hard to keep a touring band together. It’s a tough go on the road, spending endless hours in a van with your bandmates, and sometimes playing for sparse crowds, for little money.
But the band didn’t let any of those obstacles keep them from putting on a stellar show.
The lead singer River (nee Sarah) writes some great songs, and they have a great attitude about tuning out the “business” part of the music business, and tuning into their heart.
The nice woman at the merch booth gave me a copy of the set list.
The band members stuck around after the show to talk to audience members, and sign merchandise. Good luck having that happen at an arena show.
Thank you, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, for making a long trip on a dark and stormy night totally worth it. Thanks even more for your art, straight from your hearts to mine.
I’m lying. I don’t love a parade. They seem sorta silly to me. Way too much forced waving – the folks on the floats have to do it, or else they’d feel really self-conscious… and then the spectators feel like they have to wave back, just to be polite. (At least that’s how I feel.)
But I do like the Cincinnati Reds Opening Day Parade.
Because it’s organized by Findlay Market – Ohio’s oldest continuously operating public market. (And also the place that has always felt like the most welcoming and egalitarian spot in the city to a non-Cincinnati-native like me.)
Because the parade has been going on for 106 years.
Because it celebrates the first game of the Cincinnati Reds, the oldest professional franchise in MLB.
Because the parade’s grand marshal is usually a Reds old-timer, which means he’s usually a hero of mine from my younger days. This year, Chris Sabo had the honors. You gotta love a parade that has “Spuds” as the grand marshal!
Because it marks an unofficial civic holiday. This year’s event coincided with the spring break for Cincinnati Public Schools, but rest assured that if it didn’t there would be tons of kids who couldn’t make it to school due to “Reds fever.” Taking your kids out of school to go to the Opening Day parade is a rite of passage.
[photo credit for shot above, the Sabo parade photo, and the two below: Liz Dufour, The Cincinnati Enquirer – full gallery is here]
Because it brings out thousands of spectators, from all walks of life.
Because pretty much anyone can get into the parade. There are the requisite parade entries: high school and college bands, politicians in convertibles, Shriners in tiny cars…
But you also get a lot of randos. There were a whopping 159 entries in this year’s parade. Including the Wapakoneta Optimists Lawnmower Drill Team, and entries called “Opening Day Gang” and “Groove Crew of Greater Cincinnati.”
It’s a weird excuse for a party, but it’s unique to Cincinnati. It’s ours. That’s what makes it special. Chicago has their green river on St. Paddy’s. Philly has the Mummers Parade on New Year’s Day. NYC has the Macy’s parade on Thanksgiving. And we celebrate the start of baseball season… and spring… and hope for better days ahead. Play ball!
This is NOT a music-related post. (I have to post that disclaimer, as two of the four regular readers of this blog don’t like my musical musings.)
Michelle Zauner is the leader of the band Japanese Breakfast. I’m a huge fan. (Their new album comes out soon!)
But she also wrote a very moving memoir about loss – her book Crying in H Mart. When her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Michelle left her East Coast band and flew back to her childhood home in Eugene, Oregon, to take care of her mom during her final months. And as a Korean-American who lost not just her mom but her connection to her Korean heritage, Michelle feels the grief quite intensely.
I can sorta-kinda relate. I’m not mixed race like Michelle, but my mom was first generation Italian-American. And when she passed away, I lost that connection to the Italian part of my heritage. I was lucky enough to spend some quality time with my Italian aunts (Rosetta and Inez) growing up, but chances are my feelings of “Italian-ness” would be much stronger had my mom not passed away when I was so young.
I hadn’t thought about that a lot, until I listened to Michelle speak about her book at Cincinnati’s Mercantile Library earlier this week.
I found myself getting a bit misty-eyed when she talked about the sense of not just maternal loss but also cultural loss. And I started to think that I’m not just a fan of Michelle’s band, but also a kindred spirit with her.
Then. later in the week, I saw this quote:
It is essential for us to welcome our grief, whatever form it takes. When we do, we open ourselves to our shared experiences in life. Grief is our common bond. Opening to our sorrow connects us with everyone, everywhere.
— Francis Weller
Yes, I’m a kindred spirit with Michelle Zauner. And with you. And with everyone who has suffered loss… which is “everyone, everywhere.”
Grateful Living has a monthly series called “Grateful Gatherings.” As fate would have it, the focus for March is “Grief & Gratefulness.” Here’s another Francis Weller quote:
“Gratitude is the other hand of grief. It is the mature person who welcomes both. To deny either reality is to slip into chronic depression or to live in a superficial reality. Together they form a prayer that makes tangible the exquisite richness of life in this moment. Life is hard and filled with suffering. Life is also a most precious gift, a reason for continual celebration and appreciation.”
Amen to that!
The Grief & Gratefulness resources are here. Should you find yourself crying in H Mart, or in the Mercantile Library, or anywhere, really, they could come in handy.
The Mercantile Library is an absolute gem in the Queen City. It’s been open since 1835, but recently completed a remodel that adds much more cool space to what already was the city’s best haven for “readers, writers, and thinkers” as their website says. Michelle Zauner this past Tuesday, Curtis Sittenfeld this past Friday… with Timothy Egan, Crystal Wilkinson, Ada Limón, Colson Whitehead, Kaveh Akbar, and Lauren Groff still on tap this year, along with several other authors, plus book clubs, poetry readings, yoga, and so much more.
It’s a membership library, but the low cost would be worth it just to hang out in their space, and membership gets you early (and often free) access to the author events.
On Monday (“Festivus!”), I met a couple of friends downtown for happy hour. Because I’m a cheapskate, I parked at a spot off the grid, where there are no parking meters.
When I came back to the car, I found out my “Secret Santa” had left me a lovely present:
“A free upgrade to my car’s air conditioning? You shouldn’t have!”
“And a lovely glass mosaic too! You’re too kind!”
There was absolutely nothing of value visible in the car… and nothing of value in the glove compartment either, as my new friends soon discovered.
(I can’t believe they didn’t want my tire pressure gauge. Or the owner’s manual for a 2009 Honda CR-V. They’ll regret that later.)
Apparently this is the latest m.o. for “window shoppers” (per my new friends in the auto glass replacement business). They don’t have to see anything of value in the car. They just smash a window, quickly fish for goodies, then move on to the next unsuspecting victim. The car thief equivalent of a scratch-off lottery ticket.
So I saved about $9 in parking fees… and am out $250 for a new window. But tbh, it just as easily could’ve happened if I’d parked at a meter. Downtown was pretty much a ghost town that evening. And I’m not going to beat myself up when it’s the would-be thieves who deserve the punishment.
I hope your holiday season wasn’t quite as smashing!
Our “newest” car is 8 years old. Because I’m a cheapskate.
Our second newest was a 2014 VW Passat with nearly 110K miles.
For the past year or so, it’s been chugging oil like it was doing Valvoline keg stands at an Indy 500 frat party. Both the dealer and another VW repair shop told us we had two paths forward:
a. get a new engine (~$10K)
b. keep pouring oil down it’s gullet until we were doing it every week.
(So much for that vaunted German engineering… it’s pretty sad when repair shops say “yeah, that’s what happens with this model Passat at about 90,000 miles.”)
We chose Option B. But recently, it needed about $700 worth of repairs. I’ve been known to throw good money after bad before (never should’ve gotten swept up in that Beanie Baby mania…), but I do have my limits. This was the last straw. Time to dump the chump. But where? The thought of listing it on Facebook Marketplace made me break out in hives – I’m rarely on the Zuckerbook, I barely know how to use FB Messenger, and I didn’t want to spend every waking hour responding to queries. And I hate haggling.
I got on one of those “find out your car’s value” sites (Kelley Blue Book or Edmunds or ???) and plugged in the particulars. Given the car’s present state, it was probably worth about a grand. But the website also offered the opportunity to click a button and set up an instant appraisal with CarMax. I figured I had very little to lose, so I signed up.
Two days later, I was in their Cincinnati location. I sat down with a rep, answered a few questions, their tech took it for a test drive, and 20 minutes later I had an offer: $2,500. American!
I felt like this was the real-life version of Monopoly:
They did the paperwork, I signed over the title, and 10 minutes later I had a check in hand… and even though it was 17 degrees outside, I walked down the block to wait for my son to pick me up, as I was afraid they’d realize I’d sold them a lemon and want their money back. For once, I felt like the used car salesman, pulling one over on an unsuspecting customer.
I know CarMax isn’t in the charity business. I’m sure they’ve got some sort of algorithm that tells them they could sell our old hooptie (or, more likely, individual parts of it) for more than $2.5K. But when you go in hoping to squeeze a grand out of a beater, and wind up with 2.5 times that amount, it feels like winning the lottery. Especially when there was zero hassle, and it took less time than the last oil change.
Oh, and when I got home and was sifting through the detritus that I’d cleaned out of the car before I took it to CarMax, I realized I’d forgotten to remove my Band of Horses CD from the CD player. I called CarMax, they tracked the CD down, and my son picked it up on his way home from work later that week. Rock on!
The guy in the photo above might look like a surly biker dude, but really he’s a sweetheart – one of the kindest folks you’ll ever meet. [photo credit: Anna Stockton]
Hi name is Chuck Cleaver. Yeah, I know, it sounds like the stage name of a wrestling “heel” in the WWE. But that’s his real name. And he’s one of the best songwriters in the WWW – the Whole Wide World.
Five Saturdays ago, Chuck and Lisa Walker, his fellow songwriter and co-leader of the band Wussy, played a house concert at our house.
It was amazing. Spectacular, in a low-key way. Spine-tinglingly beautiful. They did a lot of songs from their upcoming album. A lot of those songs are tributes to… remembrances of… mournings for… their dear friend and fellow Wussy bandmate John Erhardt, who passed away a few years ago. John also was Chuck’s bandmate in his pre-Wussy band, The Ass Ponys. All those years spent in a van, traveling from gig to gig, turned them into more brothers than bandmates.
Three Saturdays later, Chuck and Lisa and their bandmates played a sold-out show at a local venue. It was only their second time performing as a full band since John passed away.
The love from the audience — and the band’s appreciation of that love — were palpable. Once again, they played several songs from the new album, the one for John. (He’s featured in the cover artwork, and his beautiful pedal steel work is on a couple of tracks.)
“It’s very definitely a record for John,” Cleaver says. “It’s a mourning record. We had to make it.”
The album had its official release a week ago Friday… and is amazing (as are all the other Wussy releases… as Jason Cohen said in his article linked above “There’s no middle ground with Wussy: They are either one of your very favorite bands or you just haven’t heard them yet.” I’m firmly in the former camp.)
That record-release Friday should’ve been a different type of release as well: a day of joy… celebration.
But on the Tuesday between their sold-out show and the Friday that their new album came out, Randy Cheek — Chuck’s longtime bandmate in the Ass Ponys — passed away.
I know life is a series of peaks and valleys. But my heart aches for Chuck, who was in the valley so long after losing John, and now, on the verge of a peak moment, got gut-punched back down into another valley. It’s not fair. And it sucks.
“Time is an assassin, when it finally tracks you down
You can’t tiptoe around it or conveniently skip town
So try to face it screaming and beating on your chest
So when it drags you to wherever, you know you did your best
Sure as the sun… ”
— “Sure as the Sun” from Wussy’s new album Cincinnati Ohio
I got to know Randy a tad, during my 97X radio days. He was exactly as Chuck described him: sweet, kind, truly hilarious.
It was nice to see Randy, John, Dave and Chuck back on stage together at the Ass Ponys reunion shows back in 2015. (Two nights – you’re damn right I went to both shows.)
(Jason Cohen’s Cincinnati Magazine article about those reunion shows is here.)
I took Chuck’s advice and cranked up this song that Randy wrote.
Playing Ass Ponys and Wussy tunes… it won’t bring John and Randy back, but it keeps them in our hearts. That’ll have to do.
Dear Friends Mysterious doorway Future life For better for worse Life’s blessings In heaven we know Our own glories
Glories of the sacred In the wonder days The wonder gifts The wonder story
In the quiet moments of reflection, let us honor Randall’s memory by embracing the beauty of each fleeting moment, knowing that his spirit resides in the eternal tapestry of existence, forever woven into the fabric of our hearts.
impossibly4332b32374 on Light. Laughter. Grace.: “I’ve got The Wet Engine on my shelf, and think I read about half of it. Time for another look.” Apr 21, 09:15
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