Jess Klein - Backstage

The cottages where I live are slated to be torn down. I knew this going in.  Originally I said, “whatever, who knows where I’ll be in 6 months.  Everything is temporary.”  Now I live here:  I see the way being surrounded by neighbors as creative as me, living centrally and affordably are real treasures.  My neighbor has been fighting the good fight with City Hall, and got me involved - my heart got me involved in fact, because I understand now why people fight for things that hit close to home, in their home - when something matters that much to you, you can’t not fight.

I was wondering how far this would actually get us when my neighbor texted me: “pick up a copy of the Chronicle.”  The cover story of last week’s Austin Chronicle featured a picture of the Mayor of Austin and one of his councilmembers with guitars, striking poses, and inside was a huge article called “Can the Bands Play On?” about whether, as Austin grows (faster than any other U.S. city), its musicians and artists - a big part of its draw for both tourists and people moving here, and the basis of its proud claim to be “Live Music Capital of the World” - can actually still afford to live here.  Detailed in the article were committees and subcommittees of the City Council who are actually working on ways to make sure musicians can still thrive here as prices skyrocket relative to how they were before the population boom.

Now, coming from NYC, and having spent most of my life on the East Coast, I was actually laughing I was so in shock this would be the cover story on one of the city’s biggest weekly papers, and to see the Mayor actually cares!  Man, was I thrilled - AM I thrilled. I obviously came to the right place.

Since I started to talk to people about it, I’ve run into people who sit on these councils, people who are part of PAC’s to preserve affordable housing, people who know people.  At Whole Foods tonight I ran into someone who makes it his job to advocate for fair housing and actually won against a huge developer here a few years ago to keep an apartment building that housed firefighters, nurses, teachers north of town (they wanted to tear it town and put up luxury condos those people couldn’t afford).

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll have more to report soon, but here’s the letter to the editor I wrote today:

To the Editor:

Thank you for your articles in last week’s Chronicle (“Can The Bands Play On?” and “Rockin’ Solutions: A Four Piece Combo”), which I read in happy disbelief. As a working musician and recent transplant from New York City – where artists are increasingly getting priced out – I was thrilled to get confirmation from Mayor Wynn and the Live Music Task Force that I’d moved to a place where Live Music is valued for what it is: a vital element of any thriving city, and one of the driving forces behind the recent population and economic boom here. I moved here because of two of Austin’s unique qualities: the heartfelt appreciation of audiences for live music I’ve seen in every Austin venue, and the fact that I could afford to live here comfortably when I’m not on tour.

A few nights ago at the Wilson Street Cottages (aka ‘Hillbilly Heights’) in South Austin (of which I am a resident), a group of musicians, producers and friends gathered around a slow roasting brisket to share songs and worries, stargaze, and wonder where we will each move if forced to leave when the cottages are torn down, as the landlord has notified us they will be sometime after September of this year, so that condos can be built. What a shame it would be to lose this South Austin landmark and the community that goes with it: the Wilson Street Cottages have housed musicians since the 1970’s, providing a cheap roof for the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughn, the Gourds, Carolyn Wonderland and others while they kept Austin rocking. Current residents include Scrappy Jud Newcomb, Walter Tragert, Charlie Faye, me, and others. (I’ve personally lived in several cities and traveled around the world and I’ve never been as inspired by my surroundings or felt as welcome as I do living here surrounded by such talented neighbors.)

But the buildings are in disrepair – built in the 1940s for returning GIs - and could use some serious fixing. So given the choice between putting money into a low-rent property and razing it to make way for condos, the owner’s decision is understandable, but it still leaves the musicians in a real bind, and this is just one example of this kind of thing. As Austin continues to grow and expand, what are its options for the Wilson Street Cottages?

I’m glad to be living where this discussion is alive and well.

Thanks Austin!

Jess Klein

Musician

What could be cooler than watching people watch fireworks?  (Is this too passive?  I found it thrilling).  One man holding a big sparkler up toward the starry sky and people of all sizes facing him, jaws open, staring…I was out at a beach - it was on a manmade lake, but that really didn’t decrease the thrill.  I mean, it was manmade by damming a river, so that’s ok, I think.  There was a stage someone brought in and great music, and some nopalitos salad, and avocados, a mango.  Kids everywhere, people in tattoos running after them so they didn’t tumble into the ravine in their summertime reverie.

All week prior to yesterday I dogsat for a friend at his ranch house/studio.  Couldn’t get online, forced to write and record more songs.  And then take a break to look at the broad landscape.  On the gravel driveway I saw:  two bunnies, a possum, a bullfrog.  I crouched down and tried (from a distance) to communicate in a peaceful way with the rabbit, who was stock still, one eye fearfully fixed on me.  But then I realized it’s fear of humans is probably a good thing - not everyone would be on the lookout or as interested in communicating as me.  The possum was weird.  I wrote ‘Danger Love Beware’, probably the single for the new album, in about 15 minutes, crying so hard I was laughing at how weird life is, how much I needed to get that song out, and do so out in the middle of Texas where no one could hear me or judge, where I could forget I was hearing myself, and just make the noise.  Sounds gothic.  Going to read Lonesome Dove when I can get a copy - I mean, when I get around to it, obviously I could go anywhere and get one.  Also on the list, Guns, Germs and Steel which my neighbor got me interested in.

Tomorrow I’m going to a lamb roast, which I’m not really sure how I feel about - I mean, I have a strong curiosity about how people will act in that setting, and I certainly respect anyone willing to go through the custom of roasting it (I do mean whole), but I probably won’t eat it.  Or maybe I will.

Other than this, I’m starting to realize what it really means to make a home somewhere, how you slowly adjust to things, make them your own; how you can choose how you define yourself (or not define yourself) in a new place.  How you can take your time to do so, not be roped in so fast, l’il doggie…at least I feel this way, in this situation.  I feel lucky to have so much liberty.  If I think about it too much, I get freaked out, so I try to go day to day.

Tonight I play my first Austin show as a resident…

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

Had a couple nights off in my last week in Ireland and England and was persuaded by friends to watch the Eurovision song contest finals - things that might make the Yanks go “What?!”. The two attempts I’ve made (though they were jet-lagged, barroom attempts) to explain to my NY friends what ‘Eurovision’ is (or what it’s become), have been met first with indifference “Jess is exhausted and making no sense, just pretend you don’t hear her” and then disbelief “Ok, a turkey?!” Please, if you’re reading this and you’re American, google it. I obviously can’t do it justice with words-I’ve tried, but I end up in stitches. And my attempt to provide a frame of reference - the Father Ted episode where they enter a song called “My Lovely Horse” about taking their horse to the “Horse dentist” (rhymes with “fences”), was equally unsuccessful. **Father Ted was an Irish sitcom about dysfunctional priests. Hilarious. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ATQdUK1gS4 ***The Irish entry for Eurovision 2008 was sung by Dustin the Turkey, co-host of The Once A Week Show with Sinéad Ní Churnáin on Saturday mornings on RTÉ Two television.

Needless to say I’m running into a bit of culture shock back here in Brooklyn, down the block from the bodegas missing letters in their signs, laundry by the pound, men with spliffs midday, and, disjointedly, a posh new ice cream shop which charges $5 a cone and seems populated by white people with strollers. Gentrification. I’m walking down the street thinking the guy who’s lived here 10 years just sees another white face.

Got on the subway yesterday and was mortified by the fact I had an ache in my foot and still had to angle and fight for a seat. It just feels different here. And harder for me to feel at home. It’s not that some of the same issues aren’t present everywhere, of course. But in some places people seem to take care of each other by default.  Then again, had a lovely chat over samba with the bartender at the local last night, and am surrounded by actor musician poet geniuses whom are all so brilliant, if crazed by the hustle, and was invited today to go to something called ‘Inspa’ in Queens which is some kind of mega Korean spa where they charge $30 for the day and you can wander around into 7 different kinds of whirlpools. Give and take.

The tour was so brilliant. I feel so lucky to get to play for the Irish and UK fans.  Played a gorgeous one in a million festival on tiny Inish Bofin (population 200 - people ferry over for the fest).  Hothouse Flowers and myself.  Packed community center/gymnasium properly decked out for the gig.  I was so happy to get to the island and see the green, I lay down on the grass (see below).

Still blows my mind every time people show up - why?  When I get myself out of the equation, it makes more sense. We’re human, we congregate. The more human I become, the more people listen. Human meaning with heart.

Pretty soon I’m off to Austin!

Pending some further Irish summer dates, I’ll be rolling with my one suitcase - (getting better at doing laundry vs. carrying extra) and the Tall Blonde- til the movers’ truck catches up with me…

Finally learned how to enter frequent flyer miles.

Wrote a song yesterday which ripped the guts out of me. I had to go take a walk in the park to lose myself a bit. Think that means it’s good. Some of us like having our guts ripped out cause it reminds us we’re alive.

Today I got a special ride, in an ambulance.  My friend Butterfly is a medic and corralled one to get my stuff to the storage space!  We got some strange looks from the storage people, but nothing is unheard of in NY.  The piece de resistance for us was when we rolled my dresser (the last piece) in on a stretcher - a properly theatrical finish to a long day of hauling stuff down stairs.  I shot some footage of the dresser’s finest moment.  Everything I ‘need’ seems to fit in a suitcase and a guitar case.  I noticed when I locked the dark storage room and missed nothing, I don’t really need any of those things.  Strange how when we settle into a place we decorate to make things ‘homey’, but when we’re travelling, or when I am, the last thing I miss is my stuff - I miss my friends, my food, my neighborhood, but not my stuff.  Maybe it’s not this way for everyone.  Probably not in fact, or the road would be jammed with people just tooling around - a whole world of nomads rather than just a few of us dreamers.

Speaking of dreams, tomorrow night I fly to Shannon.

xo

jk

Just back from two weeks in the midwest and northeast US with the lovely and soulful Irish singer-songwriter Damien Dempsey and his guitar player John McLoughlin. Wednesday I leave for my own tour in Ireland - I can’t get enough. Wrote two songs on this tour, which is rare, and rare is good. Damien’s music is divine: inspiring.

It’s 70 degrees and sunshine in Brooklyn. I’m exhausted but happy. Today random strangers helped me carry my suitcase and guitar up and down subway stairways and this morning a friend in Boston made me the best breakfast I’ve had in ages - it was an elixir made with coconut oil and bee pollen and blueberries and soy milk and other goodies to counteract…um, booze.

The friends I’m staying with are playing music I don’t recognize but it’s catchy, with harmonies and guitar licks - kind of sounds like they were influenced by the beach boys. God only knows where I’d be without you - this is something I’ve been thinking about in my writing lately, like wtf - it’s so amazing that we’re able to dig deep and make music and leave our souls bare for people to share and that despite all the ballyhooing and fears, it makes us safer - you think you know, but then you don’t, then you think you do then you don’t, then you try it and it f-ing works. Pardon the language, but I’ve been with two hilarious Irishmen for 2 weeks - the phrases rub off. Art is salvation, is what I’m saying, but so is living- the more you put into life, really the safer you are - somehow our egos don’t get this, but it’s true.

Much love to all who stood right by the stage and listened so intently at the Damo shows. It was a thrill to play for you all and I hope to see everyone soon.

Love,
Jess

One of the most beautiful things in the world is when you can be thrown off guard, out of your comfort zone, and learn unexpectedly what the world has to offer, and what you have to offer the world. 

I’ve been touring the past week with Damien Dempsey around the midwest and northeast.  Damien is one of the few contemporary acoustic songwriters who’s passion and soul are so present in his work.  It’s political and passionate and brilliant.  When my manager gave me Damien’s album “Shots” a couple years ago, I immediately started clamoring for him to get me on tour with Damo.  So then I got a call last fall saying I was on for support for his US tour this April and May.

It’s been a really mind-blowing experience because I just watch the whole show every night and learn from it and try to absorb as much as I possibly can from someone whose work has influenced my own so much.  It’s like that buddhist saying - when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.  I feel like I’ve been looking for a ‘teacher’ for a while, and this experience has been one.  Also, we’ve been singing one of my favorite of his songs together, “Sing All Our Cares Away” each night.  I just feel like a sponge absorbing all this soul.

Then it’s off to Ireland for me next week, which is like icing on the cake.

Wrote a new song today - a real weeper.  Sometimes I wonder where that stuff goes in between songs - I mean luckily touring means singing them every night.

xo

jk

Listening to Ella Fitgerald’s scatting on “Take the ‘A’ Train” made me feel enamored with what humans can achieve when they really focus on and develop their art.  I thought, ‘Will I ever master something like she has mastered that?”  I hope so, but more hope that I remember to find things I haven’t mastered.  That’s the point. 

I was, in fact, on the ‘A’ train, riding from Brooklyn up to Chelsea to meet with Tanya Braganti, the photographer who shot the recording of Draw Them Near, my first album for Ryko, which we recorded in Nashville back in 2000.  Tanya and I were meeting to sort through pics for the best of the early years album my label is putting out this spring. 

As I think about leaving NYC, and as the actual date approaches, everything is sorting into phases - I was always going wherever I ended up and now I’m choosing to go somewhere to create a life - weird phrase since I have a life - but to enter a surrounding one step closer to what my soul looks like - green, slow-growing wilds, something a wood nymph like me would dance around in.  Ultimately I will probably end up in the middle of nowhere, a cabin in the woods, with a fireplace, oatmeal on the stove, that kind of thing.  But I’m still a young woman with some oats to sow.  So Austin it is.  Scary to write this, as it seems to set a chain of events in motion, but since I keep talking about it, it’s not news to anyone else.  And here I am in my least favorite coffeeshop in BK (my fave is closed for renovations - here, I just spent an hour trying to get online!) but as I did, and opened this page, Willie Nelson (Austinite) came on the stereo, singing a plucky version of ‘Midnight Rider’.  Which I think I once went into at the end of Little White Dove, which was a song on Draw Them Near, so isn’t that a complete circle?