Making the rounds on Record Store Day

Vinyl Press in Panama City

SEASIDE — I started my Saturday morning last weekend standing in a line winding up the exterior stairs at Central Square Records in Seaside. We were there in the fog for first dibs at special releases available on Record Store Day. I had a short list of titles to look for — most importantly, Polaris’ “Music from The Adventures of Pete and Pete,” which a helpful store associate helped me locate.

The store was packed, but all the extra clerks made the experience much easier and more pleasant than you might expect. Not only that, but everyone combing the shelves seemed genuinely excited to be sharing their love for vinyl music with like-minded folks.

Conversations broke out in the lines. People complimented each other’s T-shirts or musical choices. Lots of pleasantries passed as we reached past one another or handed items back to someone who couldn’t quite reach the shelf. I even saw someone give up an album they had picked out, handing it over to someone else who wanted it too.

It was a pretty cool morning.

I left Central Square with most of what I had come there seeking, but wanted to stop by another shop before calling it a day. That took me all the way back into downtown Panama City.

Record Store Redux

PANAMA CITY — Vinyl Press has relocated from its original space beside Mosey’s to inside A&M Theatre, 563 Harrison Ave. The old location, as anyone who visited there would know, sloped to one side like a villain’s lair in the old “Batman” TV series.

When it became clear the floor couldn’t be fixed inexpensively, and with Record Store Day approaching, brothers and co-owners Ryan and Patrick Burkett decided to move the stock a few blocks away and up a flight of stairs. Want more details about the shop? Check out Vinyl-Press on Facebook.

The evening before Record Store Day, the shop hosted a grand re-opening party with live music by SuperMoon, Dirt Don’t Hurt and The Burl. I had the honor of being the first customer to hit up the new credit card reader, grabbing a special edition single by Johnny Marr (“I Feel You” backed with “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want”) for my son.

While at Vinyl Press, I also got a chance to touch base with local artist Eric Jones, whose work has been displayed at both locations of the record store. The former owner of the Corner Gallery, Eric is participating in “Colors,” the next exhibition at A&M, opening at 6 p.m. May 1 in conjunction with Friday Fest downtown. If you have work that might fit the theme, email colorsartshow@gmail.com

Meanwhile, put another platter on the turntable.

Peace.

Sampling singers at the Ghetto Palace

Sarah Moranville

SPRINGFIELD — It was a standing-room-only night at The Ghetto Palace, a venue opened by owners Crook and Victoria Stewart to support the area’s musicians and singers.

The crowd hovered in half of the converted church’s open area, sipping their favorite beverages. The stage took up the other side of the room, with guitars at the ready, mic stands, amps, stools, a full drum kit and other esoteric devices. Crook Stewart adjusted levels with a touch-screen tablet.

A sign-up sheet at the front door was full. Musicians got to play and sing two songs, tell a little about themselves and where else you could go to listen to them perform, then scoot out of the way for the next performer.

In between sets, Crook Stewart would remind patrons that the purpose of the show was to get out the word that “Music Matters,” that these performers were playing all over the county, and that we should go out to their venues to hear more and show our support.

It was all free, from entry to refreshments, and it was all for the sake of the musicians. In an hour’s time on Tuesday night, I heard covers of a Beatles song, an Elton John hit, and a Leonard Cohen standard, at least three original songs, two electric guitar solos by an 11-year-old, a rendition of “Stormy Weather,” and more. All genres, styles and levels of accomplishment were welcome, and the crowd was eager to applaud.

People swayed, tapped their feet, bobbed their heads. A few couples grabbed some floor space to dance. And everywhere I turned, I saw familiar faces — Scott Clemons, Pam Wiggins, John Russo, Bryan Taylor, Lauren DeGeorge, and more.

Crook Stewart, who has been a road manager for major musical acts including the Rolling Stones and Crosby, Stills and Nash, is a big supporter of local musicians. He promoted the downtown music scene, saying he hopes to see Panama City become known as “Music City F-L-A.” These open mic nights at his Ghetto Palace are one way he models how the rest of the community can get behind the music too.
The goal, Stewart said, is to offer an eclectic array of music at downtown shops and restaurants that would bring in more paying customers and revitalize the scene. Musicians play at no expense to the businesses, which would attract patrons, and in return musicians could collect tips, sell CDs, and build an audience for their music.

If it’s any indication of how badly people really want to hear live music: The street shoulders and parking lots for a block around the Ghetto Palace were packed with vehicles Tuesday.

“We had a feeling that it would be a good night, but even I was surprised when I stepped out to open doors and there was a line down the street,” Stewart said in a Facebook post. “We had some really great musical talent on stage, and we went past midnight to get everyone up to play. We had almost five hours of non-stop music.”

Peace.



The Ghetto Palace
What: A gathering place to hang out and listen to or jam with musicians and singers
Where: 3128 E. Fifth St., Springfield
When: Check the Ghetto Palace Facebook page for open evenings
Who: Crook Stewart III and Victoria Ciccarelli Stewart
Details: (850) 481-0170 or email ghettopalacejam@gmail.com

Book Review: 'Broken Music' by Sting

Though the pages are numbered/ I can't see where they lead/ For the end is a mystery/ No-one can read/ In the book of my life. 
-Sting, 'The Book of My Life' (Sacred Love)

"The Early Life and Misadventures of Gordon Sumner (Abridged)" would have sufficed for a title, but it would have been far too literal for the author of the engaging autobiography, Broken Music (352 pages; $26 Hardcover).

In this sometimes shocking self-portrait, the post-punk musician and poet known to the world as Sting first meets readers in the rainforests of South America in the 1990s, and takes them along on an hallucinatory semi-religious experience induced by ingesting a native plant — through time and memory — back into the life that molded him into a front man for The Police.

"It is a story very few people know," Sting writes in his introductory notes. "I had no interest in writing a traditional autobiographical recitation of everything that's ever happened to me. Instead I found myself drawn to exploring specific moments, certain people and relationships, and particular events which still resonate powerfully for me as I try to understand the child I was, and the man I became."

Often as eye-opening in its normalcy as it is in the offhand way it deals with what should have been outlandish, the narrative is always engrossing.

Here are unflinching examinations of young Gordon's family members, their hard lives, and the circumstances of his upbringing. In the process, those who know Sting's music and lyrics will find themselves recognizing the origins of his "summoner's tales" — the shipbuilders, the "Saint Agnes," the fortress round his heart.

It's little wonder that, reading Broken Music, I was repeatedly reminded of specific lines and images from Sting's albums — especially The Book of My Life, a track from his 2003 album, Sacred Love.

"Having been a songwriter most of my life, condensing my ideas and emotions into short rhyming couplets and setting them to music, I had never really considered writing a book," Sting writes in the book flap.

The title comes from a remembered moment when young Gordon, searching for an emotional outlet after realizing that his mother is having an affair, bangs on an old piano at his grandmother's house; the woman comes in and asks if he can't play something other than that "broken music."

And so he begins trying to use music to put things back together.

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(This review originally appeared in The News Herald on Jan. 30, 2005.)

The sky remains the same as ever

PANAMA CITY BEACH — I heard a haunting melody this week, a particularly atmospheric clip by the Japanese band MONO: “The Sky Remains the Same as Ever.” It fit the mood I was in, which was at least in part precipitated by the sky, itself.

Maybe I pay too much attention to the sky. When I walk our dogs at night, for instance, I watch the stars and the moon — which hasn’t yet caused me to fall down, though it has resulted in some epic stumbles.

But I also tend to associate certain skies with specific moments in my life.

Last Saturday, as I watched over some chicken breasts sizzling on our back porch grill, I sat back in a deck chair to enjoy the afternoon sunshine. The temperature was in the 70s, the sun was high and warm, the breeze in our shared courtyard just a gentle, cool suggestion.

The sky was a rich blue, cloudless, without a sense of depth. It made the tops of the houses and trees look like cardboard cutouts against a lighted diorama backdrop.

And the combination of details took me back in time.

First it brought me, as it so often does, to a morning almost exactly six years ago, standing in a front yard in Lynn Haven, making phone calls to friends to tell them the worst news one can share. The sky, the sun, the breeze were just like that. Such a lovely sky for so terrible a day.

Then I was back even further, to summer 1985 — more than a lifetime ago, if measured by the earlier memory — sitting on a green space in Gainesville, feeling sun on my face, scribbling notes in a journal, looking up at the endless blue dome overhead.

It was hotter that day, and my mood was restless, but the sky was exactly the same. The world below stood out in stark relief, and with it a sense that none of this was real.

When I got up from my chair to flip the chicken, I wondered about the passing of time and our innate ability to relive moments at the slightest provocation: a scent, a sound, the texture of a blanket, the flavor of a pie, a song playing in the background of a television commercial.

In our hearts and minds, all time is one. The past is always there, one step removed, and sometimes it feels more real than where and when we are now.

As I write this on Wednesday morning, a fog has lifted and formless gray clouds have obscured the blue above. Spanish moss sways in oak limbs still bare of leaves. The sun persists. It punches through the haze, turning the moss dark against the brighter firmament.

What will this day be remembered for, I wonder, and what will this sky recall in years to come?

Peace.

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(This is my Undercurrents column for this week at PanamaCity.com and in The News Herald.)

Being Part of Everything

Prudence Bruns (News Herald Photo)

PANAMA CITY BEACH — It was a beautiful spring afternoon in April 2011 that I sat with Prudence Bruns by the pond at Zen Garden Market & Lotus Café to discuss meditation and the Beatles.

“It was amazing to me. Meditation for me was a real game-changer,” she said then. “It works directly to build up the strength of the mind. It was exciting and hopeful at a time I felt very bleak about our future.”

Perhaps I could be forgiven for thinking that the wind was low, the birds were singing, and from where we sat on the patio, we could see the sunny skies.

She talked of her time in India, studying under the Maharishi during the same period that John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr were present. She acknowledged the classic song that resulted, inspired as Lennon tried to coax her from her room to enjoy the beauty of the compound where they were staying.

She since embraced the song, using its title to name her nonprofit organization, the Dear Prudence Foundation, which is dedicated to teaching transcendental meditation.

“Right now, the Foundation consists of a few like-minded individuals who share the same lofty goal of creating a better world by providing enlightened education that expands individual awareness so we can make better choices for ourselves, others and our planet,” according to information on the group’s Kickstarter page.

That Kickstarter project, launched late last year, funded a documentary film about the Kumbh Mela, the largest spiritual pilgrimage on the planet. The focus of the event is the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna rivers in India, where those who bathe at this specific time every 12 years are said to be blessed and have their past sins and regrets washed away.

This year’s Kumbh Mela marked year 147 in a larger cycle, meaning participants were part of an historic event. More than 100 million people from all over the world trekked to the site for the event in January, which their cameras captured.

“It is the largest human gathering on the planet of saints, yogis and people who are seeking enlightenment or merely the company of the enlightened,” according to the Kickstarter page.

The film crew included Prudence and her husband, Albert Bruns; Jenifer Kuntz, owner of Seaside’s Raw & Juicy organic juice bar; Seagrove artist Arix Zalace; documentary filmmaker Shannon McCoy Cohn’s husband, Pato Cohn; and others.

In March, they previewed footage of the film during a fundraiser event at Hidden Lantern Bookstore and Gallery in Rosemary Beach. A release date has not yet been announced.

Prudence and Albert Bruns settled in Seagrove Beach in the late 1990s, about the same time Zen Garden owners Sandra Pearson and Joe McKenna started meditating and brought her to their “little oasis” by the beach, she said.

“Problems come from a lack of wisdom, a lack of vision,” she said. “Meditation brings peace. Get out of the way and let it work. It is potent. It brings inner peace and a connection a lot of people have been missing.” 

Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for PanamaCity.com and The News Herald for Sept. 13, 2013.

Connecting the Dots

PANAMA CITY — I try to notice when the universe starts speaking. Unfortunately, I seldom understand what it’s trying to say, but I’m learning to live with the mystery.

Regular readers of these columns may recall that I have admitted before how reason and faith are comfortable companions in my brain. This mystifies both my spiritual and atheist friends, which of course amuses me.

Look, I know we live in a random universe, but I continue to believe in signs, seeing meaning behind events that have no obvious connections — what others might call “coincidence.” Maybe it’s just magical thinking, but I can’t help opening myself to any deeper meaning when synchronicity smacks me upside the head.

It happened earlier this week, but all I know for sure in retrospect is that I was where I was supposed to be at that time. Abiding, one might say.

I came to the coffee shop to conduct an interview. The coffee of the day was “approved by The Dude,” according to a drawing of a bearded man wearing sunglasses that had been scrawled on brown paper behind the counter.

(You might recall The Dude in the film “The Big Lebowski” being accosted by the Nihilists, who tell him, “We believe in nothing.” I was thinking, right then, I believe I forgot my sunglasses today, and then recalled The Dude exclaiming, “Careful man, there’s a beverage here,” as I picked up my order.)

A few minutes later, I was talking to young singer/songwriter Kristen Barkuloo about songs that speak to us. She said she wanted her music to remind people of meaningful times in their lives. I mentioned that there are a few songs that do so for me, and one artist in particular.

Seconds later, David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World” began playing over the sound system and goosebumps rose on my arms. (Bowie released his latest music video, "Valentine's Day," on Tuesday, the day following this interview.)

Barkuloo talked about a song she was inspired to write after a young friend died in a car wreck, and I thought of my own history with similar tragedy. She talked of getting into theater productions and studying under Bruce Taws, and I further connected that to my son, a songwriter and singer who did theater with Bruce years ago, and whose best friend died in a car wreck.

So now we talked about linkages, connections.

She mentioned that she also wrote fiction, and I encouraged her to visit Writers Gallery, a monthly open mic for writers hosted at Chez Amavida that will reconvene in September after a summer hiatus. I told her it was organized a couple of years ago by local author Nick May, and then I looked to my left and saw Nick opening the café door.

Greetings all around followed, and more talk of strange connections. As The Stranger said, “I don’t know about you, but I take comfort in that.”

Peace.
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(This is my Undercurrents column for PanamaCity.com and The News Herald for this week.) 

Things My Kids Have Taught Me

On Father's Day, Sunday, June 20, 2004, my weekly "Undercurrents" column on the Lifestyle page was the following:

Things my kids have taught me

Jessi and Nate 2006

Educators and child development experts are fond of pointing out that the greatest influences on a child are his or her parents.

I’d go as far as saying that this rule holds true no matter the person who raises a child or what sort of traditional or nontraditional family that child has. The greatest influences are the mother and father — their presence, their absence, their attention or neglect — whether or not the child ever knew them.

A grandmother raising a grandchild as her own may do a wonderful job, but the absence of a mother/father duo will affect that child for the rest of his or her life.

That’s a long introduction to the idea that, as quantum theory suggests, the reverse is also true — the absence or presence of children makes a huge difference in an adult’s life. The child really is father to the man.

Or, in bumper sticker terms: Insanity is genetic — You get it from your kids.

Apropos of the day, listed hereafter are some of the things my children have taught me. Put simply, they made me the man I am today.

• A quiet house means someone is up to no good.
• I’m luckier to have the two of them than they are to have me. At least twice as lucky.
• Child-proofing a house only succeeds in frustrating adults.
• Somebody else started it. It’s my job to finish it.
• I’m sure there are more painful things than a child’s tears. I just can’t think of one.
• Respect has to work both ways or it won’t work at all.
• Cleaning up is not nearly as much fun as making a mess, and takes much longer.
• The hardest thing to explain is "why."
• Being a kid is tougher than you recall.
• If the rest of their generation is anything like them, then the future will be more complex, irritating, exhilarating and imaginative than you expect.
• Noisy bodily functions are funny. Are too. Are too.
• I am not my father, though I sometimes sound like him — and they are not me, though I often see myself in them.
• That doesn’t mean I’m letting them get away with anything, though.
• Kisses really do make booboos better.
• Hard work never hurt anybody. Neither did an afternoon of cartoons and popcorn.
• My folks were wrong when they said, "You’ll understand when you get to be my age."
• There are more questions than there are answers.
• Sometimes the best answer is still, "Because I said so."

Peace.

(And happy Father’s Day.)

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My Undercurrents column for Friday, June 14, is as follows:

Things my kids have taught me

Jessi and Nate 2013

PANAMA CITY BEACH — Several years ago, I made a mix CD that I titled, “Songs My Kids Taught Me.” It had tracks by Iron & Wine, the Killers, Postal Service and many others who were, at the time, fresh on the scene.

I always have prided myself on keeping up with new music — though not the plastic, manufactured pop dreck. I try to introduce my kids to new music (such as OK GO, Anna Ternheim and Airborne Toxic Event when they first broke out) thanks to sources like NPR and Paste magazine.

So, looking back, it was a big step to admit they were teaching me. I still enjoy answering them with “Yes I have,” when they ask if I’ve seen a certain new video or heard a certain new song — but it doesn’t happen as often these days.

With Father’s Day approaching, and these thoughts on my mind, I started wondering what else I used to teach them that they now teach me. The fact is, I can’t really say that I’ve taught them anything — though I’d like to take some credit for them being intelligent, curious, creative and compassionate souls.

But they have pretty clearly taught me a thing or two over the years. I even wrote a column based on that idea about a decade ago, featuring nuggets like: A quiet house means someone is up to no good; respect has to work both ways or it won’t work at all; and the hardest thing to explain is “why.”

There are many things they have tried to teach me, but that I refuse to learn. I still won’t eat sushi, for instance, no matter how they flavor it, and I still don’t ride amusement park rides.

But a couple of other items have become clear in recent years. They certainly have taught me:

• Patience. I was impatient as a young man, easily frustrated, often angry. Now I’m patient almost to the point of oblivion. So patient, I make others impatient with me.
• Never say “never again.” I mean it at the time, but when a similar challenge presents itself again, I’ll probably cave. It’s one thing to draw a hard line and another thing entirely to watch a child struggle when you can help.
• Loosen up. I know it may seem unlikely, but I can be uptight when it comes to being “proper” in public. They’ve taught me it can be okay to laugh inappropriately, among other things.
• Sometimes, peace is more important than justice. Sometimes, getting a job completed is more important than an even distribution of labor. And sometimes, if you wait long enough, even a patient Dad will get tired of asking.

But I maintain, as I wrote before, that I’m luckier to have the two of them than they are to have me. At least twice as lucky, though it’s more likely that I’m lucky-squared.

Peace.

Flashback Friday: Melissa Etheridge

(Once upon a time I did a telephone interview with Melissa Etheridge in advance of her Pensacola concert, which was opening for Sting in Feb. 1994. This is dated Feb. 19, 1994, though I believe it ran earlier than that.)

Melissa Etheridge affirms: `Yes I Am'

MelissaEtheridge.com

Melissa Etheridge is at it again, so smile when you read the title of her latest album release, Yes I Am.

Is she becoming more politically active while disclaiming any agenda? Is she echoing her own ``coming out'' statement regarding her sexual orientation? Is she still writing gender-neutral lyrics to raw rock'n'roll music?

Ask her and she would have to say, Yes I Am.

Etheridge, 32, earned a Grammy for Best Female Rock Performance in 1993 for the single Ain't It Heavy from her 1992 album, Never Enough. Her throaty delivery, backed by deep emotion and searing guitar, would make tracks from Yes I Am Grammy contenders as well, if they were being awarded to female rockers this year.

 ``Needless to say, it's frustrating. I feel there's a real movement of female rock music, and (the lack of nominations in the category) is an oversight,'' Etheridge said. ``It points out to me a lack of rock radio play, which these nominations are based on.''

Etheridge points to the rise of the punk rock ``riot grrls'' as one of female rock's new movements. She said she ``likes the extremes'' represented by the militant feminism and blatant anti-male stance taken by the groups, which often hold no-men-allowed concerts and as a rule exclude men from front row seating.

``When the extremes move, they push the middle and I don't look like such a `bad feminist' anymore,'' she said.

Etheridge's current gig is opening for Sting on the Southeastern leg of his 1994 American tour. They will perform at the Pensacola Civic Center on Feb. 19. On the day before rehearsals began on the West Coast, she spoke via telephone about music, religion, and sexual expression.

So much has been written recently regarding Etheridge's sexual preference and her friendship with country singer k.d. lang, that one might expect the songs on her latest release to reflect her newfound openness. Not necessarily so.

Her new disc opens with the driving guitars of I'm the Only One, a song that could be interpreted for either straight or lesbian singers: she is losing her lover to another woman — is the lover male or female? In Etheridge's case, the answer would be the latter, but the song could be just as meaningful coming from the throat of straight female performers.

Wikipedia.org

``I made a decision a while ago that I would write the songs truthfully but still try not to exclude anyone. The passions and desires and feelings cross all boundaries. That is the same for everyone,'' she said. ``A man can listen to my songs and say `I know that feeling.' A straight woman can listen and say `I have felt that way.' I don't want to limit myself or that experience,'' she said.

Etheridge — who once said she was the product of a stale, white-bread midwestern environment — shares a home in Hollywood with a passle of pets and her companion, filmmaker Julie Cypher, who shot Etheridge's earliest music video. Although Etheridge said her music was open to personal interpretations, ``self-examination'' is her catch phrase. Any political, social or sexual message comes out of ``peeling back the layers,'' opening her feelings and thoughts for ``total revelation'' to the audience.

``I believe there is a way to create from and write from a totally honest part of yourself and speak directly from that,'' Etheridge said. ``But sort of like eye witnesses to a crime, everyone will see something different in it.''

Etheridge had a religious upbringing and performed both in Catholic and Protestant churches during her youth. She said she's ``not a religious person per se,'' but the influence of those years appears in her music, particularly in the new song, Talking to my Angel.

``On each of my albums there is at least one song that refers to angels,'' she said. ``I grew up in many different churches, and was struck by their icons and symbols and religious knowledge, and realized the power they have in our society. So the terms `angels,' `devils,' `God,' are incorporated into much of my writing. I'm talking about spiritual forces, a muse, inspiration, the spirit and memory of loved ones I've lost. They take on a new form that I call `angels.' ''

There is also a hint of darkness in Etheridge's songs, the plaintive voice of the outcast seeking approval and love, yet reveling in her differences. Having been embraced both by straight and homosexual audiences, and having gained public recognition through her award, she can afford to do both.

``In my personal exploration, I've found that there really is a `dark side' to all of us. You find it in our religions, books, even movies. People try to exorcise it, but there comes a point when you can't get rid of it,'' she said. ``So much fear and intolerance comes from that darkness. We're afraid of so much that we don't understand.

``I try to overcome my past inheritance of ignoring that side of me, so I draw it out, write about it, talk about it — shed come light on it. That's my philosophy, how to find some inner peace.''

(The rest of the story: I drove with my wife to Pensacola to see the concert; Etheridge's manager said I would have two tickets waiting at will-call. Instead, there was a pass to photograph the first two songs of Sting's performance, but no tickets. The show was sold out. We turned and walked away. Monday, the manager called to thank me for the article, and was apologetic when I told her about the ticket problem.)

Getting in the groove

PANAMA CITY BEACH — My haul at last Saturday’s Vintage Market in downtown Panama City included four albums featuring old-time radio shows of “Superman,” “The Green Hornet,” “The Shadow” and “The Lone Ranger.”

My friend Brady has said he once tried to listen to an old radio show, but it was too strange — apparently stranger than an audio book or whatever the closest modern approximation might be. I replied that “The Shadow” was “The Walking Dead” of its time — appointment radio; no doubt future generations will look at “The Walking Dead” and not understand our fascination with the quaint technology called “television.”

Other than the treasures I find in thrift shops and yard sales, my album collection has swelled in part because family or friends no longer played theirs, so they gave them to me. It’s how I accumulated everything from Broadway musicals to the Dead Kennedys, from chamber music to King Crimson, and from Boots Randolph to Souxsie and the Banshees. It also has helped me develop as broad a range of favorites, which I often display in a changing rotation.

One wall in my writing space at home features albums exhibited in frames; I trade them out when the mood strikes. Recently the collection has focused on portrait covers and included the likes of Kate Bush, Johnny Cash, Todd Rundgren and Nat King Cole. Before that, it was a group of movie soundtracks. During the season, it features old Christmas records. I suspect it’s about to be filled by radio shows.

And it’s not just nostalgia, either. Vinyl lives.

That’s more than simply a statement about the “warmth” you might hear someone describe when comparing the sound of a vinyl record to a CD or mp3. It’s also a truism about the record industry in an age of digital downloads.

Indeed, if you buy an album on vinyl these days, the price usually includes a code to download the entire album for your mobile listening pleasure.

Vinyl will be celebrated Saturday with international “Record Store Day,” which is also a way to recognize local music shops. Both objects of attention may seem like dinosaurs (and this is a guy who still works in print media talking, so I’m not calling names), but they still have life in them — and maybe even a bright future.

Central Square Records in Seaside is the nearest participating store, marking its fifth year as part of the event. The shop will have most of the limited-edition records being offered for the day and lots of giveaways (record totes, label samplers, T-shirts). There will be live performances in the store by Chris Alvarado (releasing his new album “Home"), Cody Copeland (supporting his new release "Two States"), and Gileah & The Ghost Train.

Central Square will also have a drawing for a test pressing of J.J. Grey’s new album, "The River." The store opens early for the event — 8 a.m. — and there will be a crowd, so be prepared.

Peace.

(This is my Undercurrents column for PanamaCity.com and The News Herald this week.)

Trying to 'finally see' what's evident

PANAMA CITY BEACH — Two white-tailed does bounded and hopped through overgrown lots across the street from my dining room windows Tuesday morning. They halted abruptly and looked my way, circled in a lot and searched for an exit. One of them turned and disappeared under an oak tree, and the second followed.

The incident lasted a handful of seconds, and I was just lucky to have been facing the windows when they raced by in the golden light of morning.

It’s important to recognize that part of being in the right place at the right time is making yourself available. The other part is sheer luck. That morning’s vision was a fortuitous combination.

Last Friday afternoon, I made myself available and was lucky enough to speak briefly with Miles Zuniga and Tony Scalzo, two of the founding members of Fastball, the band that hit the big time with their song, “The Way,” in 1998. The place was Fish Out of Water, the restaurant at Watercolor resort in South Walton, and the reason was a press conference for some of the artists appearing at the 30A Songwriters Festival.

They paused long enough to have a photo taken, but I didn’t get to tell them how much my son loved their album “All the Pain Money Can Buy.” He played that CD until it was worn to a nub, if such a thing could be done. Easily dismissed by the cynical as “one-hit wonders,” they continue to write, play, record and sing.

Earlier that day, I made myself available to a class at Education Encore, the adult enrichment program at Gulf Coast State College. The program signed up a record high of 428 students this session, which runs through Feb. 22. The most popular classes, with 59 students each, are Gourmet Cooking Made Easy, Islam: Get the Facts, and We the People.

I was lucky enough to be presented with 22 students who wanted to know something about creative writing. It remains to be seen if they will consider this a fortunate appointment.

As you read this on a Friday, I hope to have attended a private screening of the 1962 film “To Kill a Mockingbird” at the Martin Theatre on Thursday evening. The movie, one of my all-time favorites, is being presented by the Bay County Public Library Foundation, in part to promote the upcoming appearance of Mary McDonagh Murphy at next weekend’s Books Alive festival.

Murphy, a former producer for “60 Minutes,” also produced “Hey, Boo,” an award-winning documentary on author Harper Lee, her book and its film adaptation. I will be introducing Murphy at Books Alive on Feb. 2 at Florida State University-Panama City, where she will talk about her project. Books Alive is a free event; for more information, visit BooksAlive.net.

As you might recall from the book (or film), Atticus tells his children he would prefer them to shoot at tin cans with their air rifles, but he knows they will eventually go after birds; he allows that it’s all right to shoot blue jays, but it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

He was trying to say that it’s wrong to willfully hurt someone who does nothing wrong. He later assures Scout that most people are nice, “when you finally see them.”

I don’t know how my train of thought ended up here, exactly, except that since we moved into the isolated neighborhood off the beach I’ve had more opportunity than in recent years to witness wild animals and birds brushing up against the edges of civilization.  Visions like that of the running does have connected with memories of the lessons in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and those lessons have informed the passage of my days.

So sing your hearts out, Fastball. Tell your stories, Encore students. Visit the book festival and hear the good words of writers seeking some kind of truth in the world. Try to “finally see” the people around you, and reserve your pellets for the tin cans — and maybe the blue jays.


Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for PanamaCity.com and The News Herald today. 

Record store day is coming up April 21

Owsley Bros. @ Central Square

SEASIDE — It’s more than just nostalgia, this love of flat discs of vinyl imprinted with spiral grooves. And it can’t be hipsterism, because frankly I’m just too old to be hip.

Yes, I recall the first record I bought (the “Popcorn” single by Hot Butter, 1972; I was 8). I recall the 45s my dad gave me to listen to on my Close-N-Play in the years prior to that (“Rip It Up” by Elvis Presley, “Every Day” by Buddy Holley).

Mine was a childhood of Disney albums and Gene Autry’s “Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer and Other Christmas Favorites,” and doing household chores to the sound of my mother’s Broadway musical albums (“Annie Get Your Gun” and “Fiddler on the Roof”).

Later I graduated to hand-me-down 8-tracks, and when cassettes came into fashion I used them to copy my vinyl. No one would buy an album on cassette, right?

I still have a turntable. I even have one that connects to my laptop so I can digitize my old records. But these days, I tend to buy old records just for the artwork; I frame them and display them on a wall, and I change them out as the seasons shift or my mood alters.

My most recent vinyl purchase — meant for listening — was The Mountain Goats’ “All Eternals Deck,” which came with a digital download of the album. Before that, I picked up the unlikely but awesomely titled “Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock’s Music From Outer Space” at a yard sale in the Country Club out in Lynn Haven; it will go up on the wall one of these days.

I’m thinking about all this because the annual Record Store Day is approaching.

On the third Saturday of each April, the joy of sharing music via the medium of vinyl discs is celebrated with International Record Store Day. The event is intended to focus attention on the niche art of vinyl recording as well as the independent record store by drawing fans to stores for special appearances, live performances, art exhibits, and deals on special record releases and other promotional products.

According to RecordStoreDay.com, Metallica officially kicked off the original Record Store Day at Rasputin Music in San Francisco on April 19, 2008. Now standalone brick-and-mortar retailers around the world mark the day with their own unique festivities.

Since the shuttering of Tek Records in Panama City, the only independent record store in the area is now Central Square Records in Seaside (above Sundog Books). On April 21, Central Square “will have a boatload of exclusive releases,” live music throughout the day and giveaways including tote bags, label samplers and more, according to manager Tom King.

“We have confirmed critically-acclaimed singer/songwriter Daphne Willis and our local phenoms the Owsley Brothers for in-store performances,” the shop’s website says. More performers will be announced as the date draws near. King added that Willis will play about 4 p.m. and the Owsley Brothers about 6:30 p.m.

This is Central Square’s fourth year to participate in the event. The store will open early (8 a.m.) for what the staff calls “the best music day of the year.”


See you on the flip side.


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This was my "undercurrents" column for Thursday's paper.

Carmel Mikol: Creature of Habit

Carmel Mikol @ Central Square

SEASIDE — I met Carmel Mikol by happenstance. I had detoured into Seaside on the flimsiest of reasons, checking with Central Square Records about a Mountain Goats rumor, and then wandered into the recently renovated back room to look at posters and vinyl records.

A portable typewriter crouched low on the decoupage table by the old brown couch. There was paper in it, and words on the paper: “What Kind of Creature are You?”

I started to jot information from a sheet beside the typewriter; it told about the “Waywords” project singer/songwriter Carmel Mikols was conducting during her tours across North America this year. I looked up as a woman approached.

“Whattaya think?” she said.

“Pretty cool,” I said. Then I realized she was the same young woman pictured on the sheet beside the typewriter, and stated the obvious: “You’re the artist.”

Introductions exchanged, I gave her a business card and asked if she had time for an interview. I sat on the table beside the typewriter, and she settled on the couch.

“I spend a lot of time writing,” she said. “That’s really what I do; I’m a songwriter first. And I find that traveling around and touring and getting to play festivals like this in places I probably otherwise wouldn’t get to visit adds a lot to my writing portfolio.”

From CarmelMikol.com

Originally from Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada, Mikol recently released her second album, “Creature,” and a related booklet of poetry, lyrics and stories, “Creature of Habit.” Her song, “Twenty Something Girl,” (from the new album) took first place in the Folk category of the 2011 John Lennon Songwriting Contest.

“I’m not in denial at all,” she said when asked her age (for the record, 29). “It’s a good thing my song ‘Twenty Something Girl’ did what it did this year. Otherwise I’d be a liar.”

Mikol was quick to smile and laughed easily, emotions as true and earnest as her lyrics, which explore themes as big as social conscience and as universal as personal loss. She claims to be a “creature of habit” and wonders what sort of being other humans might claim to be.

To that end, she employs one of the manual typewriters that she said she collects “obsessively” and uses when writing.

“Along with my tour, I’ve been taking my typewriter to all the towns that I play in and leaving it in public spaces for people to respond and participate in this public art project,” she said. “I type ‘What Kind of Creature are You?’ on the top and invite people to give me some kind of response. I’m collecting all these pages for the next couple of months … and will be turning it into something else, which is still a mystery at this point.”

This was not her first visit to Seaside. Mikol stayed a month in 2011 as an artist-in-residence with the “Escape to Create” program (which she called “lovely and supportive”), working on short film scripts and poems that resulted in her book. During that stay, she spent a lot of time at Central Square Records.

“I would come and sit on this couch and write,” she said. “They always play amazing music. … It’s a really good hangout, and they also supply you with caffeine. It’s like, a record store that gives you coffee? How could that be better?”

Peace.



(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 26.)

Holding on to hope of better days coming

SEASIDE — We arrived at the square in the setting sun and lowering fog of a Sunday evening.

John Darnielle, singer/songwriter and founder of The Mountain Goats, walked past us into Sundog Books. I browsed there, too, while my wife and daughter sat outside, eating ice cream from the gelato shop and waiting for my son to meet us. Later, I would ask Mr. Darnielle what children’s books he had set aside for purchase later, but he couldn’t recall the titles.

Upstairs in Central Square Records, a crowd was beginning to gather. Darnielle browsed the stacks as I purchased two of his albums on vinyl (free digital downloads included). I picked up the new one, “All Eternals Deck,” which includes the songs “Damn These Vampires” and “Birth of Serpents,” which I had heard recently on public radio. My son got “Tallahassee,” which for us is the iconic Mountain Goats album.

I said, “Excuse me, Mr. Darnielle,” and introduced myself to the man. We shook hands. I told him I didn’t want to take up his time, but I felt compelled to tell him that I was introduced to his music through my son and his best friend, Marisa.

Nathan walked up then, and I introduced them. They shook hands, and I told Nathan what I had been saying.

“Mountain Goats was one of her favorite bands,” I said. “We lost her a few years ago, and your music became sort of fused together with that time in our hearts.”

The look on his face was touching. He was stunned and perhaps embarrassed a little, curious and I think maybe honored. He asked if it was all right to ask how she passed.

I told him it was. It happened in 2008. She was killed in a car accident. He said he was sorry for our loss and I’m not sure what he said after that. My emotions were clouding my senses.

“I just wanted you to know that your music was part of what got us through that,” someone said. And I don’t know as I write this if it was me speaking or Nathan. For a moment, I was outside myself.

“When we heard you were playing here, there was no way we would miss it,” I said. “We’re so honored to be here and hear you perform.”

He shook his head and smiled. “I hope no one’s disappointed. I’m only playing a few songs. This is just an in-store, not a full concert.”

“It will be remarkable,” I said.

He thanked us again and said he would like to browse some more before the show. We thanked him for his time and stepped away.

He played to a packed house and invited everyone to sit down on the floor if they wanted; no one did. People of all ages stood and swayed, tapped their feet, mouthed the lyrics along with him.

He told us stories between songs:

... Of how he had looked at a map when he lived in the Northwest and thought about how Florida was on the other side of the country; how it was somewhere people ran away to; how disappointed someone would be when the pavement ran out.

... And of his stepfather, whom he described as abusive to the whole family, and how he grieved bitterly when the man died, and he sat on a floor somewhere in France and wrote songs about how weird it was to grieve.

... He joked about his lyrics being about the squalor of people treating each other terribly, and that it seemed odd to be singing them in this place of beauty.

He played “Cotton” and “Dance Music,” “See America Right” and “You Were Cool” ("We held on to hope of better days coming/and when we did we were right"), and he sang “Matthew 25:21,” which is when the tears welled up. He played more. He had no set list, just pulling songs out of his head as they felt right.

He did, near the end, ask if anyone had a request. I wanted to hear “Old College Try,” but didn’t shout the title because what I really wanted to hear was whatever he wanted to play.

After the set, he signed albums. Nathan’s he embellished with the boy’s name in Hebrew. Mine, he decorated with a star and the words “all love.”

And we all left in the dark and the fog, carrying something bright inside us.

Peace.

Songwriters festival brought the good vibrations

Beach view at Watercolor Resort.

SANTA ROSA BEACH — The breeze was gentle, if a bit cold, coming off the Gulf of Mexico last Friday afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon. Except for a single woman in dark sweats climbing the stairs to the boardwalk, the beaches were empty for as far as the eye could see.

I stood on the water side of Fish Out of Water restaurant on Friday the 13th in South Walton County, waiting for a press conference to begin. Inside, headliners for the annual 30A Songwriters Festival were gathering to meet the press. Outside, the afternoon was perfect, and my luck was holding out.

I circled the area and strolled the resort, stopping in at the Blue Giraffe to meet the proprietor and one of the clerks. Traffic was picking up along 30A as I crossed back to the restaurant.

Gibson prize winners with artists.

The event organizers paraded eight people onto a stage to say a few words and pass the microphone. They laughed with each other like old friends, though most of them never had met. Later, they milled among the media representatives for brief one-on-ones.

The mood was light, friendly and fun, though I was still a little bit star-struck.

Jim Lauderdale talked about changing the debt ceiling before he “realized” he was at a different sort of press conference. Then he told a story about staying up all night Thursday penning songs with John Oates.

Oates joked he was, in fact, Darryl Hall. “I used to be tall and blonde, but ever since I started working with Jim Lauderdale, I shrunk,” he said before turning serious about how honored he was to be invited to participate in the festival.

Joan Osborne also claimed to be Hall and showed off her blond tresses as proof. Up close, her smile was as brilliant as her dimples were deep. She spoke of her new album project and the beauty of the beaches with equal enthusiasm.


“Everybody says, ‘Oh, the most beautiful beaches in the world,’ but I went out there yesterday with my daughter and it’s like powdered sugar,” Osborne said. “It’s incredible. You all know this, but I live in Brooklyn, so this is like a really nice break for me to have in January.”

Matthew Sweet stood in the back of the room and smiled and waved when he was called out by the folks on the stage. Arriving on the heels of a tour of Japan and the West Coast, he was jetlagged but grateful to be here. He also was excited to be playing the entirety of his landmark “Girlfriend” album live.


“People are very nostalgic about the album,” Sweet said. “It’s amazing that it’s been 20 years. This year it will turn 21 — so she can drink, I guess.”

Mullins and Simmons

After the interviews, Shawn Mullins paused and took a photo with a fan. Amy Ray delayed her exit long enough to hear how much my sister loves the Indigo Girls — and to agree with her good taste. She also posed for a photo with a PanamaCity.com car sticker.

Amy Ray

“I’m so psyched to be here,” Ray said. “The house I’m staying in is gorgeous. … It’s just a great area. I love being in the South.”

On the way home, I stopped by Central Square Records in Seaside to check out a rumor about the Mountain Goats and ran into another singer/songwriter visiting for the festival: Carmel Mikol was hanging out, watching people hunt and peck on the manual typewriter she had placed on a decoupage table by the couch.

But that’s a story for next week…

Matthew Sweet

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 19.)

A new way of seeing through music

PANAMA CITY — Paul McAuliffe is one cool cat, as he recently demonstrated while serenading a Florida panther, Takoda, at the Bear Creek Feline Center outside Panama City.
“People with autism spectrum disorder have a real affinity for animals,” Paul said.

Known across the Southeast as a talented flute player and flute maker, Paul is also an autism advocate and social services worker. Three years ago, at age 54, Paul discovered that he had Asperger’s Syndrome, a type of autism spectrum disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction.

“We have a real hard time reading social cues (or) looking people in the eye,” he said. However, he said the deficit can be compensated for: “It’s like learning to play the flute: the more you practice, the better you get at it.”

Paul has presented his “Flutes, Autism & A Different Way of Seeing” program across a seven-state area. He recently gave presentations in Greenville, S.C., and Valdosta, Ga. He’ll next present at Hattiesburg, Miss., and on Feb. 17 he’ll present to the Psychology Department at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa.

Click for a link to download Paul McAuliffe's new CD

“Not too shabby for an old flute boy,” he said. “It’s a unique program that I seemed to have stumbled upon. I discuss my own journey of self-discovery mixed with information about Asperger’s and autism in general, interspersed with flutes (from various different regions across the globe).”

During the summer of 2011, the NPR affiliate in Tampa did an online article and interview about Paul’s musical autism advocacy program that went viral. It was picked up by the blog of Autism Speaks, among other organizations. CNN featured Paul on a “Health Minute” segment Dec. 1, after one of the cable news channel’s editors saw his presentation in Atlanta. The segment was shot in Maryville, Tenn., and was shown on CNN and local news channels all over the country.

“I’ve received reports of people seeing it as far away as NYC, Columbus, Ohio, and Little Rock, Ark.,” he said. “I’ve been joking with friends: ‘I can’t get arrested in Panama City — but they love (me) in Atlanta.’ ”

As Paul pointed out, Bay County gets into the national consciousness for many reasons — many of them not so nice — so it’s a good thing for a local to get positive national publicity. (Check out The News Herald’s list of Top 10 stories of the year for examples, including the BK Brawler and the School Board shooting, among others.)

“Behavioral scientists say 50 to 80 percent of all human communication is non-verbal,” Paul said. “The good news is we can learn these things. … Now that I have more of an idea what’s going on out there, it has made it easier to communicate.”

His new CD, “Young Cat Dreams: Quiet Time Music for Kids of all Ages,” is more than an hour of original, soothing solo ethnic flute music. Paul plays 11 different wooden and bamboo flutes on the album, three of which he crafted himself. It’s available for sale at the Visual Arts Center of Northwest Florida in Panama City, and Coastal Market at Pier Park in Panama City Beach; it also available as a digital download at CDBaby.com.

“I’m very excited about it,” he said. “We live in such a high-stress, high-stimulus society, and 21st century kids have so much stimulus coming at them all the time. I like to do anything I can to help people slow down and relax.”

Paul’s music reflects his peaceful attitude. He describes it as music for lullabies, general quiet time, meditation or “just to help relieve the stress of the day.” He has been told many times that when children or grandchildren are having difficulty sleeping, his flutes are the only thing that will help them “relax enough to drift off to Dreamland.”

“They said, ‘You should bottle and sell that,’ ” he said.

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 4, 2012.)

Library event was fun

Sold a few books at the library's "Last Minute Christmas Gifts" event today.

Slim Fatz, a local bluesman, stopped by to drop off his newest CD, and I caught a photo of him while he was talking with flute maker and player Paul McAuliffe.

I met lots of new people and hopefully created some new readers. It was interesting to see that I sold as many of my older books as the new one. Two copies of "Welcome to the Dawning of a New Century," one each of the "City Limits" anthologies, and another "The Best of Days." Most people talkative and in a good mood, which makes those events worthwhile.

Christmas Song of the Day: Fairytale of New York

On Twitter, I've been posting a "Christmas Song of the Day" for the past few days. Today, I put up the Pogues' "Fairytale of the New York." Tells you what kind of end-of-week mood I'm in.



Yesterday, the 31st anniversary of the death of John Lennon, the song was, of course, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)." I'm morally obligated to warn you that the video at that link has some gruesome imagery.

The day before, I chose the 21-minute long Francis Ford Coppola filmed "Junky's Christmas" written and narrated by William S. Burroughs. (So, the mood has been off all week, looks like.)


The day I started all this, I began with Bing Crosby and David Bowie's "Little Drummer Boy (Peace on Earth)." (Along with a bonus song, the scarily accurate Funny or Die recreation of the performance starring Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly.)

I'll bring you some more songs as the month progresses.
Peace.

What's up?

Mark Boss at Education Encore.

My friend Mark Boss, a local author, visited my Education Encore class last Friday to discuss "plot" in the craft of short fiction writing. While he was talking, a class member downloaded his latest novel to her smartphone. How cool is that?

Disembodied floating heads.

I toured the Jaycees Haunted House yesterday, where the good folks showed me some of the shocks they're planning. It opens Friday, and proceeds go to support a Christmas charity that buys toys for needy children.

Enlightenment-era Hipsters.

I also visited a dress rehearsal for AMADEUS at Gulf Coast State College. The show opens Friday and runs two weekends. Check out my behind the scenes video below:






Coming up later this week: Headed to the First Friday breakfast meeting of the Bay County Chamber of Commerce, grand opening of the Tervis store at Pier Park, and a concert where my son will debut as lead singer of The Offer. Check out their latest: