Jess Klein – Backstage

It’s not NY. You have to move slow and people are friendly – sincerely friendly to each other – it’s a practical issue: If you lived in 100 degree heat with the danger of rattlesnakes, scorpions, waterbugs (in NY we scream and call these “huge f*ing roaches!”, you would be friendly to your neighbors too. Luckily this friendliness is contagious and enjoyable. I’m still getting used to it.  Life is different without the anonymity of NY.

I keep writing though. I don’t seem to need those secrets anymore – maybe this comes with the territory. Secrecy has morphed into something like a maternal love for the world and everything in it. Today I wrote a song called “I’m bound to love” or “Bound to Love” or something. I’m becoming one of those people who loves the world and makes potions out of herbs. Did you know you can cleanse your face with crushed almonds? Well, you can.

Next week I’m going to dogsit for a new friend who has a big ranch house with a studio in it, and while I’m there I’ll be recording demos of my new songs. Demos – weird word. “Here are some demonstrations of my songs” – that’s even weirder. I probably won’t call the album ‘dogsitting’, because I don’t like the sound of the word, but it’s pretty serendipitous to be able to take care of four friendly dogs, and a cat, and get to work on my songs all day in a great big house. Although, this is where the rattlesnakes come in – I was shown a large hedge clippers with which I should decapitate said snakes if I see any in the yard… People outside of the southwestern U.S.: did you know a rattlesnake can still kill you even if it’s dead, if its head is still attached? The muscular response which attacks you is connected to the heat sensors, which are located in the head. I ran this by my neighbor, thinking I had some pretty exciting news, but he’s lived in TX for many years so he just said, “Yeah”.

I think also, you can’t stay mad around here, despite cartoon caricatures of shriveled old men with rifles – but it’s too hot to get mad. Why bother? It’s better to just have a beer and go see some music. I saw Bobby Whitlock, who co-wrote with Clapton all the songs on Layla in my favorite local venue Sunday night, like it was no big deal. Sublime.

I talked to a friend on the phone yesterday who said she felt fired up talking to me, and another here told me I give her energy. I feel lucky.

Here I am in a coffee shop and just overheard one of the guys who works here say to his co-worker: “Would you be able to deal with a stuffed animal dog that used to be your real dog?”

Sounds like something out of a David Lynch movie.

Every time I say to someone in Austin, “I need ____”, whatever the thing in question was then mysteriously enters my world within a day or two.  For example, “I need a kitchen table and chairs”: my friend has a spare set in her garage, along with some gallons of paint in colors I like.  “I need silveware, plates, decorative items” (the movers lost mine): The Salvation Army has a half off sale on Saturday – and I don’t mean ugly stuff, people – this place is style central – and then the cashier actually undercuts my bid on a whole box of goodies including a bright orange mod vase – ok, it kind of looks like a mod pumpkin, but in a good way.  “I need a bike”: another friend works somewhere with a large lost and found collection of long unclaimed bikes.  “I need a car”: yet another friend is going on vacation for 2 weeks and out of the blue offers to lend me hers.  Gives a girl a sense of abundance.  It’s pretty amazing, actually.  There’s some kind of crossing of planetary lines here that allow (all of us?) to find what we need – I mean, ok, is that always the case everywhere, like did I need to develop an acute thyroid condition last fall and lose my voice in Sweden for a week?  Maybe.  What do we really need?  But it’s a lot more fun this way.

The friend with the bikes pulled up to my place last night in a dark green vintage Triumph convertible, and while I’m guffawing in the bucket seat, points out the collection of scarves she keeps in the glove to keep a girl’s hair from getting mussed.  “I feel like we’re in some southern novel!” I exclaimed.  “We are!” she said as we tore off down the street with Al Green blaring.

So I’m going to try “I need to give this place as much good vibes as possible” and I’ll let you know what comes of it.  I’m still hiding in my house a bit, but my days are numbered…

jk

I’ve been in Austin one (1) week. So far, at least 5 people have said to me, “I want to help you set up some gigs here”. A friend lent me her extra kitchen table and chairs and two gallons of paint – pale green, which I’ll call ‘Florida’ green, for the living room and turquoise which to me said Caribbean (bathroom) (I think the paint was actually for keeps) Another friend offered to come help paint and then did, and we sweated it out, only breaking for watermelon on the hammock in the 98 degree shade. The movers lost my cd collection, so I have a new vow to refill it starting with Austin bands. I’ve gotten two off my neighbor so far, but I’m running out of cd’s of my own to trade, so I might have to drag myself down to Waterloo and comb the bins and not buy any bad 80’s albums by bands I otherwise love. I might start with some more blues and rock n roll. I met one person who seemed ambiguous about Austin, pointing out that it would only really be a good place to play music if you were really into blues, roots and acoustic music – uh, ok, I’m definitely home. Every activity here comes with a side of live music. Not just any live music either. These people are good. You got your live music at the hairdressers, the brunch place, the cupcake truck (yes, there is a cupcake truck). The only drawback I’ve found, besides the daily battle with heat stroke, is the fear that everyone might move here all of a sudden…I’m tempted to keep it to myself, but it’s awfully hard when you’re in love (even with a place) not to gob on about it.

As is my fatal flaw, I didn’t plan out the dollar signs so well with for a haul across the country, so now it looks like there’s a pick up job on my horizon, but it might be in a studio, which seems like the best of all possible worlds. As there’s nothing too productive anyone can do between the hours of 4 and 7, when the sun is hottest here, I’m starting to understand the importance of lazing. Also, of watering holes, blinds, timing of errands, and puttering.

I wrote a song at my friend’s house last week, before the movers showed up with (most of) my stuff. I was sitting at her kitchen table, looking out noncommittaly at the backyard and saw in the adjacent yard two little boys bouncing – whew! – on a trampoline. I looked away for a moment, and then when I looked again, there was a big guy bouncing with them too – maybe a much older brother or their father. Pretty cute. It struck something in me and the words started, and the melody, and 10 minutes later, after sniffling and not letting myself bawl, there was a song about being my parents age when they had me, and changes in life.

AND, I think this may be the start of my actually being able to commit to blogging. I have trouble with commitment, but I think I’m ready, and my computer now has a real place of it’s own.

xo

Jess