Weekend of music
Many of you know I have been following a local musician for some time now and I tend to rave about her music just as much as I rave about anything else online. I got to see two Tamara Bedricky shows this weekend…and I took a lot of pictures.
- Saturday night’s pictures from Small’s Bar @ Flickr.
- Sunday night’s pictures from Mickey Finns Pub @ Flickr.
The first show was at a small venue on Friday night not too far from my place. The sound was a little light at times, but the crowd was great. I was lucky enough to get in early and watch the line grow outside for this triple header show…I was anxious to see the mixed aged crowd’s reaction to all the bands.
Jeff Tessler another local artist opened to a small, but energetic crowd. Jokes about songs and asking his parents to plug their ears before hearing him play kept the crowd laughing. A young and humble musician with mature talent that kept me wondering when I would see him on the larger music bills within the next year. A trio of free CDs later made me think he might have a good idea: he records (usually) his shows and puts a live track from a previous show on a CD with some other songs and hands them out when he is finished. I already passed on two of my CDs and received the “thumbs up” from friends. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to hear him live again -soon.
Tamara Bedricky was up next…full band and two new songs to dish out…one I had sampled previously, but I was not prepared for what I was about to hear. I like Tamara’s music and I think she has some talent…I think her songs would make it on the local radio circuit. However, I heard one of her new songs and I don’t think it would just make it on the radio; it’s an easy national hit. No bias opinion, just me listening to music and calling it as I see it…which could be WAAaaaaay off base, but it was the best song I have heard from her yet. If it goes to national mainstream radio I’ll wager that it will be a top 5 song for the summer. Why? I have no idea…just a hunch. The second song is also a work in progress and has an amazing personal aura about it. I was fortunate enough to hear it twice in one weekend and I can say that it will be one on repeat when I take long walks and want to be alone. It might not draw tears, but it will tug on your heart.
Stephen Kellogg and the sixers were the final act with great sound and a flair for entertainment – if they play a local show, see them. It’s worth $20 cover…but hopefully it will be $5 for cover and you can spend the other $15 on their CD. From covers to original music, it all sounds good when belted from these four guys that all take turns singing at different points. From playing while seated with the crowd to playing leap frog in the middle of the dance floor while another member flys solo signing or playing, these guys know what it means to entertain.
I got a chance to hang out with Tamara Bedricky and the head of her street team for a little bit on Friday night and I got a chance to talk about the show on Saturday before she headed down to Toledo, Ohio for her next gig. I was invited to tag along and take more pictures with the head of her street team…one hour later I was in Toledo and watching the band set up and do a sound check. Can you say awesome? I’ve only been following her music for a year now…sweet! Chatting with Tamara and her bass player I got a little insight in to their other music likes and dislikes while we grabbed dinner. Again a moment I’ll remember for a long time; how often to you get one-on-one time with someone who has a hit on two national TV shows, full length album, EP, promo DVD and merchandise to boot? Not that often in my social circle.
When the new album comes out I’ll mail 10 loyal readers a copy if you promise to tell not 5, but 10 friends about it. It would be nice if you email me too and let me know what you thought of it…I can’t promise anything, but if I hear she is headed your way I just might make the trip out to see you too. ;) Wow…now that’s a bonus!
“I’m sure one day I’ll hear a song that doesn’t stretch out it’s hand as my soul reaches out to shake in a memorable moment of ‘hello’. Until then, I’m content.”
– Babbling Dweeb [2002]
I can’t click right
Apparently I wasn’t paying attention when I made some recent edits (because I forgot my grammar like a silly lil dweeb) and I pulled down my last few blog posts. Let me fix that!!
I don’t feel safe(r)
I chose not to comment about something that happened to me last week after class because after a good rant I was over it. I read an article today that put the events back in my head; now I have to share.
I have been trying to get a particular shot figured out with my camera: streaking lights from cars. Basically you take a picture where the shutter stays open for more than a second (usually like 5 or 10 seconds). I have a shot in my mind I want to take, but before I scout a location I wanted to figure out my camera. So last week it was a little after 10 and I thought I would take a picture from an overpass near my house. After thinking about there not being a close place to park, but it being just far enough I didn’t want to walk (I was lazy) I opted for another choice. There is an intersection that is well lit and has some decent traffic on it about 5 or 10 minutes from my home…I headed out to take a peek.
This intersection is where two five lane roads converge. One has a speed limit of 45 mph and the other is 35 mph…sidewalks on all sides of the road and street lights. Normally this would ruin the shot I was looking for, but I didn’t care too much because I wasn’t looking to produce anything with it, I just wanted to see what setting I needed for car lights to show up as a streak. So I parked on the corner in a oil change parking lot that has an entrance to both roads just shy of the corner. It was well lit so it was obvious my car was there and it wouldn’t look suspicious. There are just mini-malls, car dealerships, a few small sports bars and a super store (like Meijer, Walmart, Super K-Mart…a grocery store with everything else). No offices or anything like that.
I got out my tripod (less than 3 feet tall) and put my camera next to the sidewalk. I took 5 pictures with different settings, waiting for traffic to move before each shot. I looked at the 5 shots, didn’t see what I wanted and decided that it was too well lit for me to see if I was or was not getting what I wanted. I packed up and left…total time? 10 minutes tops.
I got in my car and pulled out of the lot on the road, waited to turn (long long light to turn left) and proceeded to head home. Just after I made my turn I saw head lights coming up on me and FAST! I thought I was about to get hit so I took my finger off the gas and just looked forward thinking I needed to watch the road…praying it was a cop and not a drunk driver.
Red and blue lights…a cop.
I pulled over into a strip mall and waited. It was getting darker so I turned on my interior lights just to make it safe for all of us. The officer asked for my license and I got it out politely telling him I needed to take off my belt to do so. While I got my license out I asked him if there was a problem. His response with a cold tone “we’ll get to the problem when I find out who I am talking to.” Very polite I said “okay” and handed him my license. At this point I am a little concerned, thinking “are my plates expired again? Shit…I hope my registration is in the car…and my insurance, damn did I put the newest one in here?” then I thought “WAIT…this is the first time I have been pulled over and NOT asked for my licence, registration and insurance…what…” the cop was back at my window. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in the oil shop parking lot?” THANK FREAKING GOD I was not a smart-ass and my first reaction was a puzzled look and I said “uh…yeah, I was taking pictures [turn on the other interior light, tripod is on the floor and camera on the seat; pick up the camera] with my camera of the street lights for a project I am doing where the car lights show up as streaks on film and I needed to test the settings on my camera [camera turning on] I just took 5 of the same shot [scroll through the 5 pics] and didn’t get the effect I wanted. I just packed up and left after these. [holding the camera out the window] I thought that since I was in a public place, well lit and right on the sidewalk I would be fine. I used no flash or any lights at all so drivers would not be distracted.” He says “okay, wait right here.” turns around and I hear something and at this point I notice someone behind the car — I think it’s the owner/manager of the oil shop. Officer returns, hands me my license and says “you can go.”
Now, I stuck my head out the window and said “Thank you” and he didn’t flinch. I put my license away and I think to myself…”Just leave, just leave” but honestly I am pissed off. The officer was doing his job. I am okay with that. What I am not okay with is I did not get an apology nor did I get the typical police “have a good night.” Listen, I pay your f-ing salary and you just harassed me without apologizing for a misunderstanding. Jerk.
When I go to pull out of the lot I see the person that was behind my car…an older gentlemen that was on a motorcycle I saw stopped at a light. I saw him look at me and thought nothing of it. He called the cops on me…suspicious activity. Now, let’s get the fact out in the clear: I had a hairy hairy beard last week I had been growing out without shaving as a tribute to Lance Armstrong in the Tour de France (whole diff story) – where am I going with this? I am not Arabic, but with a full intense black beard I look like I am Arabic and I have had trouble at the US/Canada border before when I have my beard. Had my last name been something middle-eastern sounding I am pretty sure things could have been much worse for me. Why do I say that?
Read the article that pissed me off today…
[sniped from: Independent Press Association]
Colored? Carrying a camera? Banned in New York
By George Joseph, India Abroad, 24 June 2005. English Language.Taking photographs in New York City can be dangerous, especially if your color is brown.
Rakesh Sharma, a filmmaker from India who captured the violence in Gujarat in his film Final Solution, learned it the hard way. His crime: taking photographs of taxis, pedestrians and buildings around Park Avenue and 39th Street in Manhattan around the Metlife building.
Full article: IPA NY Voices That Must Be Heard @ Independent Press Association
Maybe I should call the cops when I see someone on a motorcycle and say they look like a scary biker gang member and I think they just robbed a store or did something horrible because they ride a motorcycle.
[the point]
I love America and I am one of the last you’ll hear bitch-and-moan about things here. I don’t get vocal about the war on terror, the war in Iraq or political issues unless it’s the time in my eyes for me to say something. I’m not going to do it now either. What happened to me was NOTHING. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time…if the guy on the motorcycle could even see my beard he has amazing vision because I was not that well lit up to look Arabic – I just looked like someone sitting on the ground at 11pm. I’m crying over a stupid apology from a cop; it’s pathetic of me. However, in the case of Rakesh Sharma [man in article] and the complaints against NY police treatment, there is nothing pathetic but the officers that were involved. To me THEY are terrorists.
To bold of a statement to make? Maybe. I don’t have a solution for a better way to find out who is good and who is bad. Innocent people will get caught up in the mix. I don’t have a solution for solving terrorism. Most likely we can only hope to limit it; conquer it doesn’t seem possible (at present day). However, I feel comfortable saying: what we are doing now doesn’t seem like much of a solution to me; it seems like we are just adding to the problem.
“When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.“
Oscar Wilde; An Ideal husband, 1893
I’d blog that
I received this today and thought it was worth sharing. It fits with my last photo moment picture [#4] don’t you think?
As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best friend. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did. You’ll cry because time is passing too fast, and you’ll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back.
“Take Nothing but Pictures.
Leave nothing but footprints.
Kill nothing but time.”
– Motto of the Baltimore Grotto (Author Unknown)
On Thursday
I struggled with a few topics I wanted to write about this week for “Confession Wednesday” and like usual I talked in circles and jumbled the topics. I struggle with the line: how personal is too personal…for me? I chose to wait this week out.
A previous post pulled in more comments (and emails) than I have seen and a few comments got me talking a little more. I felt that one comment deserved the respect of a post response, rather than a comment. It falls right in line with “Confession Wednesday” and it got me to say what I wanted earlier in the week. Why would I choose the word “respect”? I felt Jane‘s comment was well put and questioned me -as well as others. It wasn’t an attack; at least I didn’t see it that way. Any well put point or question I always felt deserved the returned respect the questioner gave.
First: good, bad, indifferent…no matter what your opinion or view: thank you for stopping by (that’s for everyone). I’m not Walt Whitman, but I like to write. I’m not Gandhi, but I admire his candor; I can’t control my temper (sometimes when I should). While my words seem wise at times, I’m not Plato…and unfortunately I give better advice to others than I give to myself. :)
I use my eyes to judge women; I’ll openly admit that. However, I could give you a handful of my male friend testimonials to the fact that once the girl talks, if she’s not up to snuff on some level: I’m out. Is this always the case? Nope. I’ve made some terrible decisions and thought with no brain (or the wrong one). Any relationship or dating experience I have had has hit a sour point when I realize I fell prey to poor decisions. I learn from my mistakes, but that’s not to say I didn’t make those mistakes more than once to remind myself of a lesson. One of the best pieces of advice I learned about relationships was told to me in middle school (I believe it was 6th grade and I was between 12-13 years old). We had one of those school assemblies where they talk about science, or drugs…but this one was about sex. The speaker said [paraphrase]
“…you think sex is fun and someone is beautiful when they are all dressed up for school or you go out in a group. Do you think they look good first thing in the morning? Not usually! Most people are ugly! [kids laughing] You think it’s funny, but men come down unshaven, bad breathe and in their underwear. Women come down with their hair in curlers, no make up…maybe one of those green masks! That is the most important part of the relationship: at the breakfast table. If you can’t talk to the person you are with in the morning, the relationship isn’t going to last and the sex isn’t worth it…”
Personally: I crave the conversation. I have had girls tell me I talk too much. I have some girl friends (friends that are girls, no fooling around!) that just like the fact we can talk forever and it’s just that…talking. My happy medium is with someone I am attracted to that I can talk to. Hopefully we can talk on all levels, even the dorky ones. I know that’s not easy to find. However, I also know that a good personality can make someone that’s no so attractive become the most beautiful person in your eyes. I also know that someone gorgeous can become very ugly if they have a poor personality.
Throughout my school life, up until my senior year of high school and even some time during that year; I never had a girlfriend, never went to a dance…was never kissed. Many people dorks, jocks, whoever…all have that same story. I could talk about the girls I thought were cute that would cry in class when no one asked them to the next dance; all the while I sat there at looked at the girl thinking “little does she know I would love to go with her!” To this day I still remember that particular girl’s name, the class we were in and what dance it was. Too funny. I idolized a few girls on the cheerleading squad like most teenage boys; but my first mature (high school) crush was on a girl that was also a dork. We became casual friends; I was new at school and didn’t know her or her boyfriend. However, her boyfriend was dorky too so I knew I might have a chance if things didn’t work out (haha). Her boyfriend was a great guy and they dated for a long time; but I had a crush on her for 2 years…and when they split up I asked her to a dance. I’m leaving out details here, but she couldn’t go and I missed the dance. Later I met my first girlfriend, a band dork; and we dated for 5 years…after I had left high school and gone to college. While we split up, we remained close friends. At her wedding this past summer her and her sister still teased me about how I was such a huge dork in high school…my floods…glasses…braces, always the same 5 or 6 sweatshirts. As she put it: who would have thought years later I would shed my outer shell for my own style of clothes and appearance; but still be a huge dork on the inside.
How am I a dork? I went to summer camp for three summers when I was 8,9 and 10 years old…the camp was like school. I took astronomy, self-esteem, chemistry, pottery, wilderness survival and an earth science class (maybe a few more too) during the day while my other friends played outside. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to be there and I still got plenty of time to play. I helped teach a computer based drafting class in high school because I knew the CAD [Computer Aided Drafting] software better than my teacher. During my second and third year of high school my mom or dad would take me at night to youth engineering groups at the local automotive plant. Other nights when I was still 3-5 years younger than my club-mates, my mom and dad would take me to a local tech/engineering university for math club. I didn’t understand the math, but I like the topics and I had a teacher in high school that told my parents and I that it would interest me: it did. I would ask for math books that I wouldn’t learn how to read until I was in college and finally got to revisit them. I worked as a draftsman when I was 16 and I designed parts for an engineering company when I was 17 and almost earned a patient (company opted not to patient the new part that is still in production today). I started getting more interested in computers and I would take home Unix manuals that would otherwise be good for starting fires…instead I learned. I never became an expert in computers; but I made it my new hobby. Up until a few months ago I had 12 computers…in my bedroom. I now have 7.
I hated reading books and opted to be educated by teachers through lecture and conversation. Whenever I had the chance I would spend time with my professors asking more detailed questions. My passion was learning concepts. Almost two years ago I decided it was time to change my reading habits…I began to read the books in the collection I had amassed over the years. I have hardly stopped to take a breath since that day. Cryptography theory, patterns, chaos, biographies of leaders, Asian strategy and Eastern Philosophy have been my focus…and my favorites for a long time. Business and social ethics get tossed in along with some decent non-fiction along the way.
So what?
[the point: the real confession]
My soul is in constant turmoil. I have more inner battles between good and evil that I debate with myself to the point I ought to be schizophrenic; but I’m not. What am I talking about? The big thoughts, the big questions: life, its meaning, purpose, idea…God’s thoughts. Things on that order. I question my own ethics, morals and motivation so much I talk myself out of little things that are ethical and moral while I left the obvious unethical or unmoral things happen. What am I searching for deep down inside? Honor.
From the time I first knew about knights, I wanted to be one. When I grew older I admired Samurai, the Asian equivalent. When I read about Zen [Buddhism]; I thought of Gandhi and his words “Become the change you wish to see in the world. I have spent my life learning not to lose my passion, nor imagination and to build a giant encyclopedia in my head of concepts from various subject all with an end goal to understand as much about people, life, religion and the known Universe as possible for something I always knew I wanted; but never grasped.
Last week my professor asked the class a random question designed to make you think deep about yourself. He asked us to look deep inside and think abut what really means a lot to us; what do you want to be remembered for? That is: what would you want on your headstone? My inner dork, geek and dweeb converge on the very thought, not of being knighted, but of being remembered just by those that know me personally as being honorable. In the utmost hope that in my memory they will also find some honor (if they are not already)…and pass that trait on. I don’t want my name etched in stone; I want the feeling in my heart etched on others hearts.
In many situations as possible I try to do my best to find the most honorable answer to every decision I make. I make many wrong decisions and I forgot my focus too often. I still drink beer. I still sleep in late for work. I still cuss in the presence of children. I still lie. I still hide when I make a mistake. Yes, I would still go after Carmen Electra (if she wasn’t married).
Nobody is perfect and I know I try…but mostly I sleep well at night knowing that I am willing to try harder.
cheers,
bd
.: the babbling dweeb :. 