Tag Archives: quarantine

Help! There’s An Elephant In My Music Room!

Illustration/ Pixabay License

I’m not sure where it’s hiding at the moment, but there’s an elephant in the room where I do most of my writing, as well as the day job, snacking, sleeping, music making and listening. Please note that I purposely avoided using any gender pronouns, as we’ve not yet had that conversation.

There are three guitars each tuned differently resting on their stands, a dulcimer, banjo, five harps in various keys, lots of capos, and a couple of high-priced speakers that I stream my music through. I’m using a MacBook Pro 13-inch at the moment, which sits next to an iMac 27-inch desktop, and somewhere on the floor is an iPad on which I might one day record one of the greatest albums of music ever written. Or not. Got an iPhone sitting on a wireless charger, about a dozen books are scattered about, almost every issue of the original No Depression magazine (from when it was published by Peter, Grant and Kyla) which are neatly stacked in a wooden crate on the floor, and I’m staring at a large brown plastic bottle of Xanax.

When you write a music column each week it really helps to be passionate about your subject matter, or at the very least appear mildly curious to your readers. But since the Great New York Lockdown of 2020 began on March 12, I am struggling month after month with the elephant in the room to remain focused on music. And while I’m averaging 10 hours a day of listening, and exploring a wide range of new, old, lost, and found songs, my random crazy thoughts are beginning to take over. I don’t know if this will make it into the column on not, but maybe if I make a list of some of the stuff in my head it’ll be helpful, like therapy. As it’ll be totally random, don’t try to put too much thought into it.

For the past six weeks I’ve been working with my attorneys on my will, and writing letters to my kids about how much I love them and what they will need to do when I pass. I have converted the small amount of stock I own into cash just in case the banks fail, and I’m attempting to learn at least one Hawaiian slack-key song in taro patch tuning from beginning to end. I also watch quite a lot of Scandinavian crime dramas and wonder if there will be enough time left to view at least four or five Frederick Wiseman documentaries. Each one usually runs three to four hours. Doing stuff like that is good and keeps you busy, right?

If one day in the future somebody finds this article in some digital trashcan, please make note that this was written during the week when the total number of Americans who died from COVID-19 passed 150,000, and it was absolutely and totally avoidable. Our country went to hell in a handbasket when millions of y’all thought it made perfect sense to put a psychopath with a personality disorder and learning disability in charge of making decisions on your behalf. Reap what ye sow.

It seems to me that many professional musicians and other performers, including athletes, will need to find new jobs and learn new skillsets. Especially if you’re older, I doubt you’ll soon be able to safely go back to playing in front of an audience. How’s that Cayamo cruise sound to you right about now if you’re over 65, with a touch of emphysema from smoking too much weed and tobacco back in the day? I’m not making light of it, as it’s a tragic situation we find ourselves in, and I know so many people who earn a living playing, presenting, marketing, selling, and recording. Thinking of their pain and anguish is consuming. And hell, it ain’t just the arts, it’s our entire civilization.

Maybe this isn’t quite a top five problem, but a lot of people I talk to complain about not getting enough sleep and exercise. And if they have kids, they’re worrying that sending them back to school may not be a smart idea. Then there’s this mask vs. no mask tug-of-war between the sane folks and the crazy-as-a-loon Republicans and Libertarians who see absolutely no harm to society by strapping on a hand gun and slinging a semi-automatic rifle on their backs when they need to run down to Walmart and pick up some of that hydroxychloroquine. You people actually believe a guy whose top medical expert is a woman who has often claimed that gynecological problems like cysts and endometriosis are in fact caused by people having sex in their dreams with demons and witches? She also has said that the government is run in part not by humans, but by “reptilians” and other aliens, according to The Daily Beast. She might be right about that last part. This should clear up any questions about why I keep on hand the previously mentioned large brown bottle of Xanax.

On March 8 of this year, I took my last train and subway ride into Manhattan to see Coal Country. A play by Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen, with original music written and performed by Steve Earle, it’s the story of the 2010 Upper Big Branch mine explosion in West Virginia that killed 29 men and tore a hole in the lives of countless others. It’s probably one of the finest and moving theater performances I’ve seen, and within a few days it closed up and Earle and his youngest son left town for his house in Nashville. I didn’t know until this week that this project took four years to write, produce, and get onstage. And unless something happens, fewer than 1,500 people in the whole world will have had the chance to hear and see And that is a tragedy about a play about a tragedy.

I think this is a good place to stop. You probably have got the gist of it, that my mind is running around in circles and I need to take a vacation. I’m too late for heading to Florida’s beaches, I suppose, and I hear they are cracking down on boat parties on the Lake of the Ozarks. I really can’t fly anywhere, and buses, taxis, Uber, subways, and trains are all out of the question. Checked on some nice local bed and breakfasts up in the Catskills, but I can’t find any that will let me bring my elephant.

So I’ve decided that I’m just going to chill a bit for the rest of this long hot summer, until I get this pachyderm out of here. In closing, I’d like to leave you with a couple of musical thoughts, tips, and tricks. Ready?

I love Taylor Swift’s new album, recommend you check out what Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams are doing on their Facebook page, I want you to listen to the latest album by Tessy Lou Williams (no relation to Teresa) and agree with me that it’s the best country album of the year, make sure you are registered to vote and request an absentee ballot, skip getting tear gassed by the leader’s secret army, and please consider a donation to the Equal Justice Initiative. Stay safe!

This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here and at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

A Tuba Player Lives Upstairs

Photo from Pixabay

In my biography that I posted on my website many years ago, there is one white lie. While it is indeed true that I live in the Lower Hudson Valley of New York, I do not have an apple orchard that I tend to. In fact, I live in a 70-year-old apartment building and despite my living space lacking any flora or fauna, there are several large windows that overlook dozens of beautiful tall trees that run along the train tracks across the street.

On days when I’m not at work or out and about, I can see and hear the trains that normally carry thousands of people each day into Manhattan, a mere 29 minutes away if you catch the express. The station is a five-minute walk into our village, which has the distinction of being classified as the “richest town on the East Coast” according to Bloomberg’s 2020 list. Neither my fellow neighbors nor I were included or calculated into that statistic, as we live two blocks outside the official boundary.

The 80 apartment units in my building are occupied by the elderly, several young families, those who are divorced or widowed, and working stiffs trying to keep our heads above water. The wonderful labyrinth of New York rent control laws has allowed many of my neighbors a roof over their heads for 20 years or more, paying far below market value in comparison to others in this area. I moved here almost eight years ago from California, and while I know several of my neighbors by name and we say hello in the lobby, parking garage, or as we pass each other in the halls, there is also a certain detachment that exists. For example, I do not know nor would I recognize the people who live in the apartment above me.

They moved in a year ago, and judging only by sound and schedule, I would guess the occupants to be an adult male and female, with a child I would place in middle school. He or she is a musician, occasionally playing improvisational pieces on an electric keyboard in the living room. Sometime after last Thanksgiving, this person also began practicing the French horn in the bedroom above mine. The same song every night for at least one hour.

It was the Lee Mendelson and Vince Guaraldi tune from A Charlie Brown Christmas holiday special, a show and song I never grow weary of. For a month, as he or she played it over and over, it got better and better. I imagine it was for a school program or concert, as I have not heard it since. And there are times I miss it.

A month into the COVID-19 lockdown, the French horn was replaced by a tuba. As the schools have been closed since March, I’ve not been able to sort out in my mind how a new instrument has made its way into the hands of this young person, let alone the time or space for learning how to play it.

Could it be a once-played instrument that has been resurrected in these troubled times out of boredom or passion? Are there online lessons they may be taking? And although I imagine there is a particular song they practice, the tuba is like a bass guitar. No melody per se, but progressive notes working lockstep with percussion to create the tempo and rhythm. Unless you are Oren Marshall.

I have enjoyed the mystery of whomever is the source, and have zero interest in walking up a flight of stairs, knocking on a door, introducing myself, and inquiring. While I know some might find it annoying and would be banging on the ceiling for them to stop, I have come to look forward to hearing the tuba sessions each day. As someone who is surrounded at this moment by a mandolin, banjo, lap steel, mountain dulcimer, six guitars, and a box full of harps in various keys, and who tries to play for at least an hour each day, I hold in high esteem anyone who chooses to play, practice, or rehearse music.

This week will mark two months of lockdown for me, and like many of you I am missing the concerts and gatherings, the sidewalk buskers, and the chance encounters of incredible talent one finds underground at Manhattan subway stations. I can watch livestreams for hours, yet I find them flat and cold, despite emanating from the warmth of someone’s home. I’ve come to appreciate the dynamic that distance creates between audience and performer in the concert environment, and am fearful I may never experience it again.

For now, I will focus on my own playing and enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime tuba extravaganza each evening, live from the apartment upstairs. I shall leave you with two things: a quote by the late Sir Terry Pratchett, the English humorist, satirist, and author, and a song called “Cakewalk Into Town” by the great Taj Mahal. Stay safe, y’all.

“And the people next door oppress me all night long. I tell them, I work all day, a man’s got to have some time to learn to play the tuba. That’s oppression, that is. If I’m not under the heel of the oppressor, I don’t know who is.”

This was originally published at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column. 

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.