Looking at a city as a grid has become more instinctual and the more it is practiced the more efficient traveling can become with less stress and tourist behavior.

Live Wire is a radio variety show that recently teamed up with Bridgetown Comedy Festival and hosted at the Revolution Hall in Portland, Oregon in the SE. http://www.revolutionhallpdx.com/event/772911-live-wire-luke-burbank-portland/livewireradio.org

A couple of bands played such as Eyelids and The Helio Sequence as well as guest appearances from Dan Harmon, Chuck Palahniuk, and Janeane Garofalo. This wasn’t my first time in Portland, Oregon but it was my first time at a large variety show with such admired guests and artists that I grew up watching/reading. This show in particular was relatable, witty, and moved fast. I was surprised at how many active audience members there were. At one point Janeane Garofalo made a joke about the gender binary and how this show wasn’t a program at Evergreen, and then continued by saying that some students are probably in the audience getting credit for watching the show. I had to laugh a bit because it was partly true, but besides having a good time at the show I was able to immediately see a relation between local bands and local authors and the appreciation and understanding among audience members. The awe of someone famous wasn’t really visibly present, it was more of an overall personal appreciation for what each artist may have done for each audience member at one point or another.

After the show my friend, a local, and I walked to a couple of places, took a cab to the NE (where we were staying for the night) and walked through the neighborhoods. We got a little off track, but luckily knowing the grid it was very easy to get right back on track. In the morning we walked to breakfast, took a bus to our car in the SE and drove back to Olympia.

My last experience in the SE of Portland was for The Late Now Show: El Duende at Vie De Boheme featuring Three for Silver and La Peña Flamenco de Portland’s Lille Last and Pepe Raphael. This was a few blocks over from a nice little underground Salsa club as well, which leads me to the broad assumption of that specific block in the SE is a bit more culturally diverse than others.

It was different, although to be going to Portland and primarily staying in the NE/SE districts, because normally my experience in the city is strictly Downtown and Pearl district using the MAX and the Street Car.

Portland seems to be set up so that most anything that someone would need is in walking distance of their residence. It is very bike friendly and offers many modes of transportation such as the bus, street car, TriMet MAX, Taxis, etc. There are distinctive areas and neighborhoods that carry history, and a lot of gentrification has happened to the city wether it for the best or not. There are dog parks and food carts on any corner and entertainment on every night of the week. Is the city is appealing to the younger crowd/tourist trap with all the different events and crafty stores and restaurants it has, since it is increasing in population?
The outer areas such as Gresham and Beaverton have steadily grown with Portland as well. If an interview was conducted in both cities among every race and economic class asking if culture still exists in the city I wonder what the outcome would be. Are people over consumed by media and food that history and culture gets muddled and forgotten in everyday life by commercialism, or is it the opposite with the many different neighborhoods, venues, and nightly events celebrating music and food? Is the intent still the same or has it changed to accommodate the current residents of the city? How can a city maintain it’s history and culture when it becomes popular and steadily grows?

These are questions I still need answers to but in the mean time I can make reasonable beliefs that the city as large and small it can be depending on the scale, still has culture. I plan on playing some ragtime shows at a few venues down there and looking at their past shows it looks like Jazz and Ragtime is heavily welcomed. I even found a Portland Ragtime Society that meets every first Sunday of the month at a coffee shop on MLK blvd, that I will attend next month. There are a few other places that would be well suited as they are older historical buildings that have been turned into restaurants and saloons.

I also was able to accomplish a trade piano lesson with Andrew Dorsett, learning how to read lead sheets for playing ragtime. He was kind enough to let me borrow his Fats Waller record and show me some ragtime history books he has been reading, and I showed him some techniques that help me make my ragtime distinguishable from others in a non-repetitive and more improvisational form from the traditional ragtimes and two-steps.

This week was filled with adventure and new mappings of music and it’s roots, as well as a compressive understanding of a grid in any situation, especially in Portland, a city that I plan on traveling to more often for music.

I realize I haven’t said anything about my readings, so here it goes. I added some while down there, Friday on our way into the quarter we stopped at this book store that he regularly goes to to pick up a copy of Stranger in a Strange Land and One Dead in the Attic, you can read about them in the readings section. I began by reading Truman Capote. Starting with a story called Shut a Final Door; about a man who is desperately escaping New York, trying to find a way out from all the bridges hes burnt on a suicide mission to fortune through the advertisement industry. Inevitably leaving New York for the strange New Orleans, where he thinks he can never be found. After meeting an older woman with a club foot on the train, their paths cross at a hotel bar, which he has been denied a room due to a full house so to speak. The two drink and share their stories, in telling her of a poem he plegerised in a high school magazine the final line of the anonymous poem is “All acts are acts of fear”. This I felt was a profound explanation of the human being, all our acts, whether good or bad, are done because we have fear towards something. The fear I was feeling was to actually go to New Orleans, some place I have never been, under the impression I was going to be more or less doing things on my own. The man in the story’s fear was staying in New York. He found refuge in the madness of New Orleans. There was a passage about arriving in New Orleans by train and having this feeling of reaching the end of the world. Though I came in from the sky, it did feel like meeting the edge with the expectation of falling off again. The story concludes with him receiving an anonymous call from some lady, while he was in the room with the older woman from the bar, and  collapsing into the inner walls of his mind to escape while the older woman comforting him like a mother to an infant.

Another book I read while I was down there was Stranger in a Strange Land. I started reading my cousins copy but got my own on Friday. I havn’t read much since I got back but the story is of a martin from Mars who’s parents where human but he got left there on the first manned mission to Mars, roughly twenty years later he returns back to earth. Ill end my description there, other than adding his name is Valentine Michael Smith. I chose to add a hard sci fi classic to my trip because the story is about a stranger on a new planet and being in New Orleans I gotta say I cant believe were apart of it as a county, and for that matter on the same planet. It is a whole other world down there, I really want to go back and stay for a year or so, really get into that bitch and see what the fuck shes really about, I got a taste and I gotta say as weird and sad and fucked it is, I see why people love it.

I honestly didn’t write much while I was down there because I was kinda in a creative slump. I did get turned on to a lot of groovy music, and I learned Gary Numans Down in the Park and Zeppelins Ten Years Gone and Your Time is Gonna Come (Ill try posting audio but if not its gonna be part of my presentation so don’t worry). I fucked around with some lyrics and a couple chord structures and when ready will post, will also play too.. And a- yeah its been cool, I got a book when I got back that’s like the bible to the music business and how to make money in it, and I’m kinda grazing through that cause its a goddamned boat and more full of info!

My brains kinda saturated from reading the bible so until next time this is Mick Elston signing off….

The most savory  part of New Orleans was the food. This was my feast of friends:

Sunday; Soft Shell Crab Po Boy at Parasols I wasn’t all that hungry, airplane rides fuck my appetite up, it was good though. Then they suggested cafe ole and beignents at Cafe du Mond as a way for me to see the city or at least Jefferson and St. Charles ave at night, and I love coffee so I was all the way in on this plan!

Monday: My first real day in New Orleans the french quarter so for lunch we went to Krystals for Cheese burger sliders which are like White Castles but better. For dinner they explained to me that back in the day Sunday was the day for laundry and usually they would make Red beans and rice cause it was easy and simple, just let the beans boil all day while doing laundry and by the end of the day it was ready so in homage to that they made me homemade red beans and rice that was so dank it almost hurt.

Tuesday: Double cheese burger with chili on rye at Chameleon Cafe, a great joint good food, great environment..

Wednesday: Made Pizza for my cousin’s

Thursday:  I have no recollection of anything going on this day but maybe pinball and some reading..

Friday: Had lunch and dinner at the New Orleans Gumbo shop; Lunch Blacken Chicken salad. Dinner Chicken gumbo… so fucking good!.. Funny story my cousin and I were walking around the quarter and decided  to get lunch, so he takes me here and says “shh Meir (short for Meredeth) loves this place and wants to come here for dinner so if we do act like you’ve never been here”. So I agree and we go about lunch and carry on with the day til we meet up with her and she suggests getting food, at The Gumbo Shop, but doesn’t remember where it is, right next door to the shop is a place called Flirty Girl, we had stopped in before getting food so I could get my girlfriend something, so I mention that its next door there cause my cousin told me how much she loved it, Meir believed this, so we go in to the restaurant and its the same waitress from lunch. My cousin is walking in front of me and his fiance, I was showing her the elephant bangles I got my girlfriend. Any ways he being in front indicates to the waitress that we have not been here before and she plays along, giving me a wink as we take the seats we had for lunch, in the moments of deciding what to order, we all knew the gumbo, my cousin brings up the Blacken Chicken Salad, “I hear its deeeviinne” His fiance just kinda looks at him like hes crazy (the same way she dose all the time) and suggests He order it, but we all order the gumbo and half way through he mentions “Oh I shouldn’t have had so much earlier, I can make room!” then we told her about lunch and we finished our dinner had a second helping of the bread pudding (sooo fucking good) we had also had had that at lunch, then proceeded to go get more cafe ole and beingents at Cafe du Mond.

Saturday: We where spouses to go to a crayfish boil but due to the weather was postponed til next year so we went to Saucy Barbeque somewhere in Jefferson, it too was delicious there Beef ribs where high and far out on flavor!

Sunday: After a long day of sunbathing and watching them garden being it was the nicest day in New Orleans, well technically Jefferson, we went back to Parasols to get some more Po Boys this time I had a spicy sausage.

Monday: For lunch went to Chicken and Watermelon off Claiborn, got a 20 piece of wings, he was kinda reluctant to go at first but then I asked where his will to be weird was and then we went. He and I where the only white people in the place, it was my first time experiencing being in a place where I was the one of two white people, this sounds silly but its true, in Washington Ive never experienced that before.. And for dinner I made pizza for them again.

Tuesday: My last meal in Jefferson Louisiana was a burger from some joint that barbeques their burgers for fast food, it was probably the best fast food burger I’ve ever had.. If I lived down their for even six months I would probably eat meals my body weight every day and develop diabetes. Fucking hell over every thing I enjoyed about Jefferson/New Orleans, the music, the architecture, the history, the corruption, I absolutely love the food.

In my last post, I didn’t want to overwhelm with my saturated experience, but there was one more thing that I felt I needed to share. In the final days of my time in Chicago, I found the opportunity to stay a little bit outside of downtown in a neighborhood called Logan Square. I was searching Air BnB for something cheap and I was really just looking for fun. I had always planned on staying with family and friends and commute into the city to save money, and that’s what I did for the majority of my time. I soon came across the most magical listing that Air BnB probably has to offer: a Chicago music and art themed hostel that was $15 a night. Talk about perfect. I contacted the hosts and told them of my intentions for the trip and about the research I had been doing over these past couple of weeks and they said that the hostel would be a great fit for me. Come Thursday of last week, I took the Blue Line train from Downtown to Logan Square and found myself in a neighborhood torn between gentrification and local striving businesses. I took the bus to the house and thankfully the stop was two feet from the house. I was greeted by Aksel, a Parisian woman who was also staying at the hostel. She told me that the hosts were not there but to make myself comfortable. I felt immersed in an energy rich home, where there was clear evidence of great memories made. The walls were strewn with photographs and thank you notes from past visitors. There were instruments everywhere you looked and lots of posters from local events as well. I could tell right away that this was not a typical hostel whatsoever. I was immediately treated like a friend and not so much like a guest or a stranger.

Hours later, there was a potluck that started. The host, Rae, had told me that there was a monthly potluck jam held at the house where friends of the hosts would come over and cook and then play music together. I am a major fan of potlucks and playing music with pals, so this sounded like heaven on Earth to me. I was expected a potluck similar to ones that I have been to. Some people bring food, a lot of people don’t bring food and hover around the plates hoping some kind cook will have mercy on them. This was quite a different style than I was used to. Everyone contributed and shared everything, from food to music to words. Nearly 30 people came to the house in the evening hours and produced such incredible, improvised sounds. After weeks of learning the history of Chicago music and listening to recordings from before this century, it was absolutely refreshing to be faced with contemporary artists and music. Since it was a close group of friends, I was pretty easily recognized as a guest and nearly everyone I talked to was incredibly fascinated by my research and was able and willing to tell me about what they think of Chicago music and their personal experience in the scene. It appears that it is similar to Olympia in that it is somewhat clique-y and there are a lot of the same bands at a lot of the same venues.  What is great though, is that the people I was talking to were really referring to the scene just in Logan Square, not just in the whole entire city. That’s when it dawned on me that while there may be some internalized drama  in the neighborhood scenes, the whole city itself provides such a rich, and diverse scene that I don’t think anyone could truly get bored with the music. If someone doesn’t want to see their roommate’s band play for the fourth time this month, then they can hop on the efficient and reliable Chicago public transportation and quickly get to another neighborhood and be exposed to a whole new sound and group of people.  I feel like that concept is the exact opposite of Olympia in a way. There is no escaping whatever the music scene is here. There is some variation, but the groups getting house shows are all white dudes with guitars and drums. There are always outliers, but they are not getting the proper attention they deserve in this small and somewhat exclusive musical city.

This time last week, I was sitting outside of a McDonald’s (for the free wifi) writing my post, anxious to get to catch the sunset at the little cabin on the river that I would call home for the next three days. Now and I am back home in Olympia, feeling like the trip was a lifetime ago. It’s funny how that works. I think I owe that feeling to the 48 hour drive home. Before I get into the details of the days spent in New Orleans and Alabama, I wanted to take some time to process the travel aspect of my trip. There is something unique about road trips. Driving into a city – especially a city that is across the country – gives you context. Cities made more sense to me after driving through the state, and I was able to make more sense of my trip during those long hours in the car. Because the actual time spent in the different cities was sandwiched between four days of driving, it all blurred together Even after being home for a few days, every time somebody asks me how my trip was I seem to come up with a different answer. I anticipated spending this week processing, collecting all of my data and getting back into the swing of things – and I’m glad I did because it has proven to be necessary.

Pontalba Building

Fritzel’s European Jazz Club

I am still amazed and grateful for how smooth the whole trip was. We all got along well, the only car troubles we had involved layers of splattered bug carcasses on the grill, and we managed to hit 17 states total! My car has 5,000+ more miles on it, we are all still friends, and I am in desperate need of a car wash. It’s good to be back.

The happiest travelers patiently awaiting beignets!

Flashback one week; We were driving into the French Quarter, music off and windows down. I think I said things along the lines of “Wow! The smells! Whoa, look at these houses! This is crazy…I’ve never seen anything like this. *silence while we drive by a street jazz band* “Is this real??” And yes, I probably said all of those things out loud, unable to hold my excitement. A spot of time, I believe – the moment where all of the research, day dreaming, preparing, planning, and anticipation became my reality. I think that was one of the few moments during my time in NO that that I felt immersed as opposed to being an outsider or an observer. After the beignets, we walked up to the water. We stood over looking Jackson Square, the water behind us, the city below us. Another spot of time. Jackson Square is lined with these gates that locals use to hang their art to sell – almost every art piece I saw was so loud and colorful. One artist’s work was charcoal sketches of birds that reminded me of home. I regret that I didn’t ask where the artist was from. The city is loud, crowded and smelly. Sometimes the smells are pleasant, like when you were passing a restaurant or in a well kept bar. Most of the time it was one whiff of hot garbage after the next.

Jackson Square

The crowd of people was diverse, to say the least. Even though we spent most of our time on Bourbon street and in the French Quarter – there were more than tourists. It wasn’t too difficult to pick out the locals. One of the first places we went to is called Pat O’Brien’s – home of the hurricane. This place has been around since 1933 – when Pat O’Brien himself converted his speakeasy to a legitimate drinking establishment at the end of the prohibition era. The building itself was gorgeous – old staircases leading up to the restrooms (where there is someone to hand you a paper towel after you dry your hands) and my favorite part, the piano bar. We walked in to a dimly lit room, with a stage, tables and chairs. The stage had two huge pianos covered in copper and two even bigger mirrors mounted on the wall that allowed the audience to see the piano player’s hands. Something that felt different to me – in every live music experience that I had while I was in the south – was that the music was not just being created to entertain, rather it was created to tell a story. I felt that especially while I was in Alabama – but I will elaborate on that in my next post.

We went from bar to bar listening to live music, chatting with other visitors, stopping along the way to listen to street bands and performers. We ate jambalaya, gumbo, fried catfish po’boys and fried alligator for lunch. We spent a couple of hours standing on a balcony just watching – listening and talking about what were were seeing. If you love people watching as much as I do, I highly suggest visiting New Orleans.I talked a little bit about Fritzel’s Jazz club in my last post. We were immediately drawn in to this place – it was not nearly as crowded as the other bars we’d been to that day. We found seats really close to the stage and listened to The Red Hot Brass Band play for over an hour. We even closed out our tab and walked out the door at one point and as soon as we stepped out of the club we all decided to just go back in and wait for the band to finish the set because we were enjoying it so much – it didn’t matter what else we might be missing out on. We ended the night at a restaurant where I noticed that our waiter sounded more like us than other people we had talked to that day. Sure enough, when I asked him where he was from he told me that he was from Enumclaw, WA and by the end of the conversation we realized that we had a mutual friend. He even told us that we was once enrolled at TESC before he decided to move to New Orleans. The more of the world I see, the smaller it seems.

Chapter 8: Composing a Soprano Voice and Harmonizing a Bass

This chapter doesn’t actually have a list of terms exercise at the end… It instead asks that I memorize certain procedures/tools for composing which I think would be tedious and unhelpful for me to try to replicate here.

Chapter 9: Modulatory Progression

Modulation: An extension beyond the harmonic unit controlled by the tonic triad. Forte argues that it should be “regarded as ordered harmonic extension, not as ‘change of key for the sake of variety,’ as some authors would have us believe” (275). The two types of modulation are diatonic and chromatic.

Quasi-Tonic: A triad which begins to function like a tonic.

Modulating Dominant: The dominant of the quasi-tonic. It serves to establish the quasi-tonic as the harmonic goal.

Pivot Chord: Acts as a transition between the tonic and the quasi-tonic. This triad, which is a part of the original harmonic unit, always acts as a dominant preparation for the modulating dominant.

Natural Modulation: A modulation in which the switch between keys requires little or no chromatic alterations. The only completely natural modulation is between relative keys.

Returning Progression: The harmonic journey back to the original key. The progression should effectively direct itself towards the V of the main tonality, or toward dominant preparation as the I or original tonic will follow naturally.

Modulating Sequence: The use of a sequence to rapidly change the tonal focus. The usage of a pivot chord and modulating dominant are maintained, but they are embedded in the sequence.

Modulatory Series: A succession of modulations.

Interlocking Modulations: Occurs when a modulatory phrase ends on the modulating dominant and the quasi-tonic which follows at the beginning of the next phrase is also a pivot chord in a new modulation.

Incomplete Modulation: A progression which implies a modulation, moving to the modulating dominant, before returning instead to the original tonic.