Zoë + The Mischief: Notes from California Mini Tour

We decided to go on a minitour to California. I took this photo from the dashboard 9 years ago when I was pregnant with Emilio on a hot date night in town.

A quick little roadside photoshoot on the Baja drive.

An ominous sign at the Tijuana border crossing

Pre-gig photoshoot with Jules Nation in front of Froggy's

Opening act Christopher Hawley

Rock Star/Ethnomusicologist Dave Novak and his kid Finn warming up the drums

A joyful reunion with Jen Gherardi, the drummer from Social Service, my first band

Dan Levenson, my LA art star friend in red

A full look of the Froggy's stage

Novak Gherardi Clan

First time with a fan on stage. I'm hooked.

Johnny Nation

Jules & Johnny Nation and band

Some major road work right outside during our gig.

Next stop: San Jose, California

Mio's new thrift store look. He fancies himself manager.

Rocking out with Tara Mechani

Posing with Dana Albany, Tara's creator

Mio, Dana & an Airplane

Showing off the merch the next day.

What's a band tour with out a seedy motel?

One of many LA thrift store visits! Goodies But Oldies.

For several years now, I've held a dream in my heart. That my band would go on tour - first to the US, and eventually other parts of the world. Now that Zoë + The Mischief is a duo - me on vocals and guitar, and Lucas on drums, the idea of a tour is less daunting. Just us, and Emilio, in a vehicle, hopefully, a van.

After I told Lucas about my dream of going on tour, he decided to make it a shared dream, and to do everything he could to help me make it happen. (Yes, I married well and I am grateful.) So this summer, we decided to drive up from southern Baja to do a mini tour in California, as a trial run. It was a bit of a last minute decision, so we didn't have a lot of time to plan. We had to scrounge and borrow money. We spent our savings. We contacted every one we knew in California, and tried to set something up. It was like jumping off a cliff. I really had no idea if we could really pull it off. But in the end, we did it. We packed up our equipment and our son, and drove 1200 miles from Southern Baja up to LA and then to the Bay Area.

Our friend Jules, of Jules and Johnny Nation (who I met at my very first gig in Todos Santos, a locals' music night that Tim Lang created when it was announced locals were not allowed to play at theTodos Santos Music Festival, 5 years ago) came through for us and created a three act event at Froggy's in Topanga Canyon, California. Froggy's was just our style. Unique, large, full of vintage furniture, dusty, and in between owners. It used to be the town hall. A local woman made delicious tamales and gazpacho to sell at the event, but sold out of food within 10 minutes. It felt like we were home. The gig was on July 7th, which happened to be the hottest night of the year. And there was no A/C. We had to keep the door closed because a waterline burst on the street in front of the venue and there were men with jackhammers working through out the night. Luckily, there was a fan on stage with us. I loved the feeling of the fan blowing my hair while I sweated over my guitar. I felt like I was in a Beyoncé video. A fan is going to have to be a new must for me on stage. 

I was so excited to have close friends from college, grad school & even preschool there for our show. I was ecstatic to be reunited with Jen Gherardi, the drummer for my former band, Social Service, who was there with her whole family. Also, my friend Laurie, who was hosting us at her house in LA, and who has been my friend since we were three was also there with her whole family. I dedicated When I Grow Up to her daughter Mia, who was the inspiration for that song.  

Our next gig was in San Jose, California. A few months back we met Dana Albany at the wedding of our friends Sam & Holly (where I was DJing as well as assisting Lucas with the photography.) Dana, who is an artist, told me about her latest sculpture, Tara Mechani, a 15 foot Thai Goddess Boddhisatva Robot. She is representative of peace, and the coming together of the ancient and the cutting edge. As soon as I saw Tara, I knew that I had to do a performance next to her. We got in touch with the San Jose Department of Cultural Affairs, and then it was set as a public gig! 

After a quick thrift store stop (we had to go to every thrift store possible) and a new look, Emilio decided he would be band manager. He didn't realize it would involve doing anything other than sitting around looking cool in his new thrift store clothes and chewing gum.

After the first few songs, my Fender Blues Jr. amp dies (which had been my amp for 15 years, Lucas gave it to me as a gift back when we lived in Brooklyn) so I have to plug in directly to the PA. Luckily, we had just gotten ourselves the PA speakers, otherwise there would have been no rock and roll.

Here's a little video of our Tara Mechani gig:

After our gigs on the West Coast, I flew East with Emilio and Lucas drove back to Baja. I brought my beloved ukelele and did a couple of unexpected shows - an open mic in Wellfleet, Massachusetts and an impromptu chamber concert with my sister in law, the cellist, Justyna Jablonska Edmonds in my parents' living room. I adore Justyna's cello playing and the combination of instruments is inspired. I can't wait to collaborate more with her.

Every experience was great learning for next summer, when we hope to do a 2 month tour across the US. We have a year to dream, plan, raise money, record an album and transmit the rock-and-roll love! 

Follow Zoë + The Mischief on Social Media to keep up with our news and tour dates!

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Garafön +/-

ZOELAB DAY 147

Original Date of Post: January 25, 2013

I wasn’t even that nervous. Something in my body remembered what it felt like to perform rock n roll. My strings were rusty, and I knew I should have already changed them. It was our turn to go up. The stage was a mezzanine about fifteen feet above the restaurant, which was covered by a giant palapa roof. There were about a hundred or so people sitting, standing, eating, drinking. I had to climb a steep ladder to get up there. I was afraid I’d get vertigo, but all the pre-adrenaline in my body made it easier for me. After Obë, Marty and I climbed the ladder, and were up there on the stage, I suddenly had no idea if I could remember what we were supposed to do. But instead of feeling panic, I felt an in-the-moment calm. Presence. I had already decided to make my performance about fun, and not perfection. Because I knew I couldn’t have control enough for perfection. Isn’t that what rock-n-roll is all about anyway? Sticking it to the man-- letting go of convention, of correctness. It’s about feeling power through music. Feeling excitement, truth, rebellion, exaltation. The lights were in my face--blinding sunshine, warming me, highlighting me for a moment. Strapping on my guitar with the red silk chinese strap, the bravado kicked in. Then I really remembered the feeling--I felt, but didn’t think of, my first and last real gig, which was with Social Service in 2003--at Meow Mix a lesbian bar in New York City. It was as if the last ten years my rock-n-roll trajectory was on pause, and then someone just hit unpause. I did. Joan Jett, Carrie Brownstein, electric Bob Dylan, Velvet Underground, these are the musicians who gave me courage. And Marty and Obë too. And Tim Lang. And all the people there that night to hear the locals. And Caitlin Moran. And all the women out there who want to be counted in the worlds that don’t always include them. All the stubborn, adventurous women. To inspire we must be inspired. And it was with that spirit that I strummed my electric guitar, and then broke my B string on my very first chord. And we played our two songs--we messed up in places, and I didn’t sing all that well or into the mic enough, and we sped up too much. But none of that mattered, because we rocked. And, we were very, very happy. 

I am pretty darn sure that there’s nothing more fun than performing rock n roll.

She's a Rock-n-Roll Thing

I have a birthday wish that I’d like to share. I am taking the risk of not keeping it secret, because this is a wish that needs to be voiced in order to come true.

It is vulnerable to promote myself or ask for help. This is because I received the message at an early age that females are not to be proud, show off, or even love ourselves. We are to be humble, and hide our shininess because we our power or vulnerability might offend someone, make them jealous or uncomfortable. I have lived a double life for as long as I remember: walking the thin and anxious line between the silent, good girl who people-pleases and stays safe and the outspoken, spiritually-open, emotional, powerful part that has a LOT to fucking say.

“I want to tell you that that dream is your truth.”

After hearing a little bit of the hateful response to Ms. Hillary, and other women of power, I can see why this message exists. It is indeed a dangerous thing to be a girl or woman of power, a woman in the public, a woman with something to say. It makes sense because women who stand in power are targets. It is scary to be a target, especially in the age of the internet. However, it is even more dangerous to be a woman who keeps silent, and does not speak her truth.

I know so many women who struggle with this daily, as well as men, teens and children too. It is a terrifying thing to not conform, to express the dissenting view, to be original, to stand out, to follow your own path, to embrace the shadow, to feel and express our darker emotions, to embrace all of our selves.

I see a lot of quotes floating around the internet about how important it is to be your self, but with little advice or help in how to actually do this. I see becoming one's true self as the ultimate work of art, and the highest goal of life. Only from becoming whole, can we reach our fullest potential and highest purpose. Only from becoming whole within can we transform our culture and world. This is the work that I am called to do—teaching, supporting and encouraging people to live out all of their selves. And after a life time of studying, teaching and practicing the many art forms I am called to, I have come to believe the arts are the perfect container to speak the shadow of your truth. To express the vulnerability and shame that holds us back, to speak our soul’s longing, to communicate the unique way we don’t fit into the box society conveniently made for us, to own both our power and love, our masculinity and femininity. The arts allow us to express all of our selves because the arts are a container that allow that raw material to be symbolic. This is my professional work as well as my own personal journey of self-actualization, selves actualization. My very vulnerable work lately has been integrating these two sides of me: healer/teacher/coach with artist/performer/writer. In fact, I will be speaking on this topic and singing my songs at the concert following along with a group of other outspoken and heart-centered women, in exactly one month, Dec. 3rd, at the first Women Awakening, an international women’s summit in Todos Santos, the town in Southern Baja where I work.

I want to share with you my shadow side today, the part of me that I have worked hard to hide, especially from myself, for most of my life. This shadow side is powerful, masculine, and fucking loves to curse. This shadow side is critical of culture, has some strong opinions, and is non-conformist. This shadow side is angry, loves to take up space and has a powerful voice. This shadow side is also witchy, emotional and mystical and holds a deep spiritual faith. This part of me is a rock-n-roll thing. 

I have had some bold moments through out my life where I expressed this shadow side, in the safer, smaller contexts of the fancy private schools I was lucky to attend, and with my first all woman rock band, social service, in NYC. But then, eight years ago, after receiving my master's in psychology and expressive arts therapy, I got pregnant, and moved to a piece of land in the desert off the grid with my husband, started a family, let go of all of my previous selves, and completely started over from scratch. I dropped out of the society I had always known, transforming from city girl to pioneer woman. This new way of living put me in everyday contact with culture’s shadow: nature. Bugs, scorpions, snakes, hurricanes, off the grid toilet adventures, camping, even motherhood. All of it has kicked my ass, grew me up and made me deeply grateful for the loads of privilege I was born with and continue to experience. This gratitude has fueled a volunteer community work, and has given me a simple and profound enjoyment of everyday family life. This appreciation for life has also led me to create classes, workshops and relationships that are deeply meaningful and fulfilling, and has kept me writing and reading fervently, looking deep within, and continuing to practice my music in my living room.

But... there is still one thing that nags at my heart.  There is still one part of my self that I continue to hide more than I would like to, because I am afraid. As much as I long to reach a wider audience, I am still deeply afraid to be heard and seen, of what could happen in my life if I truly put myself out there and pursued the huge dreams that I have kept mostly to myself. I am afraid of alienating others, of people’s judgment, criticism, ridicule, jealousy. I am afraid of how raw it feels to share all of my selves, to use my voice. Of the vulnerability of not fitting into a pre-existing category of identity, especially gender identity. But, there is something I am even more afraid of: NOT doing it. Staying silent. I know too well what that feels like. I am afraid of dying with out having lived out all of my selves, with out connecting with the people in the world I would like to reach. With out people hearing my songs, and reading the books I am writing, with out watching the sit com I have been developing for over eight years. As afraid as I am of being seen and heard, I am even more afraid of staying silent. As Anaïs Nin famously said, “and the day came when remaining in the tight bud was more painful than it the risk it took to blossom.” That day has come.

And so here’s the part where you come in--the wish part, the part where I am asking for your help.

I want to share with you my latest song, Rock-n-Roll Thing, which is my first release in 13 years, since my first band, Social Service. I have at least 20 more songs to record and release. I hope this song will inspire others to ignore the voices inside that tell them what they can’t do, what they shouldn’t do, and instead listen to that other voice, that quieter voice, that speaks for your soul, and that dreams big. I want to tell you that that dream is your truth. I know this because as a child I wanted desperately to be a singer, but I was told not to sing, that I was no good. I wanted to be an actress, but I was told my voice was too quiet and I couldn’t get into the school play. I continued to stay silent while I expressed myself in other forms. I continued to pursue these dreams, despite all the rejection and heartbreak. Over the years, as much as I tried, I just couldn't turn away from that shadow self that part that had something to say, the part that dreamed big.

Some of you may know that I am a huge Lena Dunham fan, who is a controversial creative person and an outspoken feminist--a beloved voice in our culture, as well as a target. I have read Ms. Lena's book twice, Not That Kind of Girl, and lend it out to anyone who wants to read it. I have watched every episode of Girls at least 3 times. Even though Ms. Lena is many years younger than I am, we attended the same high school and college, and she has been able to be massively successful in multiple creative careers, the very same careers I pursued at her age. When I was in my twenties, I was only just beginning to learn how to use my voice. I admire Ms. Lena for her commitment to being herself, the quality and honesty of her work, for being willing to be transparent, vulnerable and stand up for and support other women and for what she believes. I admire her for sharing her shadow side, her mistakes and regrets. She is not perfect and neither am I. No one is perfect. It’s time for women and girls, and all humans, to own our imperfections and be willing to be seen and heard. It's time for us to make it safe for ourselves to share our shadow selves, and all of our selves.

I shared this one minute promotional video on instagram a few weeks ago, which I have been using as a microblogging platform, a relatively safe way of practicing being all my selves. Every day for the past few months, since I received my first smarty phone as a very generous gift, I have challenged myself not to hold back from sharing my passions, creativity, life and work online. But I have now decided, on my 43rd birthday, to share my song with a larger group in hopes that it makes its way to Ms. Lena Dunham and that she might consider the song for Girls. She has recently finished shooting the final season, and I imagine the show is still in post-production. There may be time for this song to still be considered. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. I figure with my Saint Ann’s and Oberlin networks, someone knows someone who knows Ms. Lena Dunham.  All I ask for is a listen.

If you have five minutes, please listen to my song, Rock-n-Roll Thing, and if you like it, please share with others who you think will like it. Please show your support by buying it and downloading it, and sharing with your networks. Please share this blog post. Anything you can do to spread this message and this song.

Soon I will be shooting the music video, which will feature four of my selves-the singer, the drummer, the keyboardist and the guitar player. In the video I will be playing with gender roles and instruments and parts of self. In this version of Rock-n-Roll Thing I am playing all the instruments, and did all the recording and producing myself on Garageband. I turned myself into a one woman band just to prove to myself that I could. I have come far from that little girl who got rejected from the school play in 6th grade on account of my voice being too quiet.

Together, we can make this birthday wish come true!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.

Love and creativity,
Zoë

when i grow up

This is what I had want to express tonight when I perform, but if I don’t, then at least it is here:

After I play When I grow Up.

When I grow up, I wanna be a song singer.

When I grow up, I'll be myself. I'll break the spell. I'll be myself.

When I grow up, I wanna be a truth-slinger.

When I grow up, I'll be myself. I'll break the spell. I'll be myself.

When I grow up, I wanna be a humdinger.

When I grow up, I'll be myself. I'll break the spell. I'll be myself.

This is the song I would have written as a kid, if I had known what I know now. I wasn’t ready to know it then. Now, at 42, I am ready.

When my parents got me my first electric guitar and guitar lessons, at 15 years old, back in Brooklyn, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I could write songs, let alone sing them. I deeply wanted to sing, but I did not know I had a voice. I felt cut off from that ability. There weren’t a lot of rock-n-roll female role models or encouragement for that kind of expression, the few that were, I clung to: Joan Jett, The GoGo’s. But they seemed miles away from what I could possibly do. Within less than a year, I stopped playing guitar, and just continued to be a rock-n-roll fan. Over the years, I increased and expanded my fandom to include more expressive and alternative examples of what you could do with rock-n-roll. At 15, never would I have imagined that fourteen years later, at age 29, I would return to the same music conservatory I had studied piano at as a little girl, and sign up for voice, guitar and music theory lessons. That I would buy myself a $75 guitar at a stoop sale, and instead of whiling away the evening watching syndicated sitcoms, I would start to write songs, that I could play and sing. After a few months, I magically ran into an old college friend who happened to work in the same building as me, who also happened to be learning drums. A month later, I met a bassist at a party, and suddenly we had formed an all woman rock band. We called ourselves Social Service. We were all working in the social services at the time. We all still are. We had only one gig—at Meow Mix, a Lesbian bar in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. That was 12 years ago.

This show tonight is a sampling of songs that I wrote about the process of discovering one’s soul. Some songs are about the struggles of feeling disempowered, and lost, and some songs are about the joy and love and power of self-discovery. Most are about both. I have found that rock-n-roll is an expression that suits me, as it is about rebellion and carving out one's place in the world that didn’t exist before. True rockers are pioneers—wrestling with opposites: masculine and feminine, love and power, despair and celebration, creating space in the world with force, with a sound that is at once familiar and brand new. Rock-n-roll may not be for everyone, but it’s most definitely for me. Art, in all its forms, has always been about creating a context for myself so I can let myself be free. So I can let all my selves be free: man, woman and child. Everyone of us has many selves within. This is what I teach in my classes. This is what I express in my songs.

I have learned that there is no short cut, or easy path to self-actualization. It requires honoring both darkness and light, blood, sweet and tears, thousands of hours of dedicated work and play, facing and accepting and even loving our fear and pettiness. It is not an easy path, but it is most definitely a path filled with meaning, joy and connection. Once you start on this path, there is no turning back. There are times I have wanted to give up, I have turned away from myself, hidden, felt deeply ashamed or afraid.  But there has always something that has kept me going, kept me in the game: it was the quiet but consistent voice of my soul looking out for me, reminding me over and over to return to music, despite my fears, knowing more than I know about the soul’s destiny. And so I have shown up here with you tonight, with all my selves, playing my songs that reflect the truths I have collected up until now. Some truths are deeply personal, some are universal. If you get half as much enjoyment out of listening as I have out of creating and playing these songs, then I think we will have a really great evening!

I also want to say that I am very honored that there are young people here tonight. It is deeply meaningful for me to nurture the creativity of their unique souls. As a young person myself, I felt very powerless in the world, and I retreated into my own inner world of creative expression. In this way, I kept my voice true, even if it was a secret. I longed to have another person see my yearning to perform, to encourage me, to guide me deeper into myself.  This year I have had so many incredible opportunities to do this for others, which brings me to our next song. It is with great pleasure to introduce the amazing, Maria Jose Favela, who played La Flor in El Principito en Baja—the play that opened the film festival last month. Working with Maria José has been greatly nurturing to my own soul.

My hope tonight is that I may inspire you and spark your unique inner fire, that secret thing that you need to be, but can’t fully allow, or to have the courage to look honestly within, making space for and having compassion for your shadow selves, your struggles and fears as well as your love and power.

Remember: you are never too young, or too old, to be who you are already are.

Last night was like coming out.

Photo credit: Barney Edmonds, (my dad)

Last night, at La Esquina, I sang & played 19 of my original songs and 2 Bob Dylan covers, in two sets. The first set with an acoustic guitar (plugged in) and the second with an electric guitar (really plugged in.) With his hands, Lucas played the bass, and with his foot, played the bass drum. Or in the second set, he played the drums with his right hand, and bass lines on the synthesizer with his left hand. 2 for 4. Dos por Cuatro. Four instruments for two people.  If you count voice as an instrument.

I invited everyone I could think of that might be interested, and I performed with everything I had. I felt excited, shiny, vulnerable, raw, nervous & ready all at once. I still haven't fully processed all of what happened last night. But for now, I want to share with you my first feelings and thoughts.

Most of all, from the bottom of my heart, I really want to thank all of you who were there to witness and to be entertained. It truly means everything to me that you were there. After all, what's the point of being a performer if you don't have an audience? What's the point of being a songwriter if no one hears your songs?  Those of you who read my blog or know me personally know how much I believe in the encouragement of creativity & truthful expression, in fact, it's what I pretty much live for. I do what I can to encourage people to live out their dreams, to keep making their art, no matter what kind of self doubt they have. I do this for you, and I also do this for me. I need to dare myself to live out loud, risking ego, in order to fulfill my soul’s code. It is never easy to come out of hiding and share yourself. I do it, not because it always feels good, or because I am confident, I do it because there is something in me that tells me that this is my destiny. It doesn't always make sense. But the songs keep coming and the need to sing never goes away.

It's hard especially, for a girl, or woman, to hold your own value enough to say, "Hey, I have something to say, and I would like to be heard." This is something I have struggled with my whole life, as so many of us have. It takes tremendous courage to show up for yourself, and then ask people to witness you. I hope that this act of being and living out my rock-n-roll self, will inspire others to to take similar kinds of risks. After all, hiding, while sometimes necessary, can become a destructive habit for oneself and the world. The world needs to hear all the true voices.

I am often inspired by this line in the introduction of Lena Dunham's book of personal essays, Not That Kind of Girl: "There is nothing gutsier to me than a person announcing that their story is one that deserves to be told, especially if that person happens to be a woman.”

Here is an excerpt from a response I wrote to an email I received from a friend/singer who came to the show:

"Last night was the culmination of MANY years of work. 2 years (since I started my daily practice of singing & playing.) 12 years (since I first started writing songs). 27 years since I first picked up an electric guitar. 42 years (since I dreamed of singing and performing). It feels good (and vulnerable) to finally unleash all this musical stuff that I have been dreaming of, working on, and creating.

I eventually want to integrate these songs into a live act of storytelling that also explains my journey of empowerment, from being a shy & quiet "good girl" to living my dreams out loud as a woman.

Thank you for witnessing. I am honored."

I will end with some excerpt of lyrics that were sung in the two sets. Each of the 21 songs represented.

Wolf Spider
you’re draggin' the dragonfly down.

Don’t let the bastards get you down,
you are a verb, and not a noun.

the vagabond that’s wrapping at your door
is standing in the clothes that you once wore.

i know now there’s only one sin
don’t you know honey, it’s the split within?

When I grow up
I wanna be a song-singer.

i’m yours for the taking
for mending, stealing, baking.

I know I’m no longer a kid
and I can’t pretend
to be immortal.
I can’t pretend
not to care.
I can’t pretend to be free
anymore.

There ‘aint no hiding in the moonlight
there’s no fooling the stars.

when you see this from above
the parts are fingers of one glove

The city lights go down
I can see you all around

no sabía quien era
quien era hasta que te vi,

no sabía queera
una flor hasta que florecí     

electric set

How does it feel? To be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone.

you’re a lucky guy
cuz you get to hang with me
all the time!

I’m so dutiful
it makes me want to fall.
restless big & small.

i can’t feel me in you
i need a point of view

electric morning
no acoustic
no separate fingers!

oh, i got caught up in sunshine today!

I took photographs today
in my close up way
to make the pain okay

the state i’m in
I feel nervous and brave and exposed

She’s a rock-n-roll thing.

She knows how to do her thing.

when i’m thinking of you
will we be two?

Stay tuned for practice recordings and home studio recordings—I am going to be continuing to share the process & products of recording my songs.

Photo credit: Julie Edmonds (my mom)

Photo by Barney Edmonds

Photo by Julie Edmonds

Photo by Barney Edmonds

Photo by Julie Edmonds

We will be doing the show all over again on April 14th--hopefully with some new songs!

State I'm In

“There’s enough songs for people to listen to, if they want to listen to songs. For every man, woman and child on earth, they could be sent, probably, each of them, a hundred songs, and never be repeated. There’s enough songs.... Unless someone’s gonna come along with a pure heart and has something to say. That’s a different story. - Bob Dylan”

Recently I decided that it was time for me to transition from being a closet (or living room) musician to one that shared my music with others. In other words, I am ready to let myself be heard.

I know that this process will be difficult--and it will naturally bring up shame and fear. I will expose myself to more criticism, more opportunities that will make me want to talk myself out of being a musician in the first place. I know I will feel vulnerable, raw, uncertain. I know there will be a lot of people out there who do not necessarily "get" or like my songs, our sound, or my voice. I know also, that people mostly will not care or pay attention anyway. Who cares if yet another person out there puts their music out there? This idea is both comforting and disheartening. After all, as Bob Dylan said, "The world don’t need any more songs… As a matter of fact, if nobody wrote any songs from this day on, the world ain’t gonna suffer for it. Nobody cares. There’s enough songs for people to listen to, if they want to listen to songs. For every man, woman and child on earth, they could be sent, probably, each of them, a hundred songs, and never be repeated. There’s enough songs." And maybe he's right, maybe the world doesn't need any more songs. Maybe. But I do. I need more songs. Not only do I need to write them, but I need to hear them. Songs for me are like moments of emotional contact with the universal human experience. We have infinite experiences in a lifetime, and we need an infinite amount of songs to capture the ineffable. Even though Bob Dylan is one of my heroes, I have to disagree with him here. The world does need songs because I need them, and I am of this world. But then Bob Dylan goes on to say (this quote is taken from the book of interviews called Songwriters on Songwriting) "...Unless someone’s gonna come along with a pure heart and has something to say. That’s a different story".

I am now going to share with you some of the best advice I have received about the process of making music.  These words return to me over and over and use them to get me through the inevitable vulnerability that comes from being an artist of any kind, but a performer in particular.

1) Always sing from your heart, if you sing from your heart, you will always sound good. - Lynn Wedekind, composer, singer, sound healer

2) The process of creating music is channeling. It's not up to you to choose your songs, it comes through you. It's not up to you to judge whether or not it is good. It is up to you to just get it down and then out. - I am not sure where this advice came from. Perhaps from my higher self, or perhaps out of conversations I have had with my friend, collaborator & colleague Holly Mae Haddock.

3) Don't focus on the material, or the audience, just focus on the music and the performance of the music. -- Lucas, my husband.

That being said, I thought I'd share a practice recording that Lucas and I made a few months ago. It's a song that has remained unfinished, for a reason. It's raw, and a lot of is improvised, but I think it captures something about our sound and my mission with music, which is to share an honest expression of the complexity of who I am, and to have a fucking good time while I do it. In a lot of my songs, and other artwork, I try to capture opposites--holding a space in the middle of both negative and positive emotions. There's something about rock-n-roll, especially because I'm a woman and didn't have a lot of female mentors in this arena, that helps me connect with androgyny. The overlapping of the feminine and masculine. I believe this is the secret to all the best rock-n-roll.

Time to Rock!

These photos were taken when I was pregnant with Mio, seven years ago, six months after we moved to Baja. We were camping out in Elias Calles, and one day we got a little dolled up and drove into Todos Santos to watch the Oscars at Buena Vida (my favorite pizza place that is now closed.) I put my camera on the dashboard for this series. We will be making this same drive in a few weeks to perform our first gig at La Esquina, my favorite venue! This is a moment I have been dreaming about for a long time.

Lucas will be playing drums and keyboard and bass. Yes--he will be playing more than one instrument at a time. And I will be singing and playing guitar. Maybe a little dancing.

Inspired by Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, we will be playing two sets--a folk set and then a rock-n-roll set. Each set contains my original songs written over the last ten years and one Bob Dylan cover. When Dylan went electric and got booed by his folk fans--he kept playing because he did what he had to do. He wanted to plug in. That moment continues to be so inspiring to me. Plugging in my guitar is so empowering. I even wrote a song about it. It's called Dangerous Instrument and I will playing it on Thursday, February 25th at La Esquina, in the second set, of course.

Long live Rock-n-roll!

Musical Collaboration between Lucas & Emilio

Last year, Lucas and Emilio collaborated on a spontaneous song project. Lucas played guitar while Emilio improvised a song--this was the result:

For further inspiration of parents collaborating with their children creatively, check out this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxQSEvHdyjQ

And these: 

family drawings.

Combining Poetry & Music Inspired by The Open Reading

This year I inherited a community event--The Open Reading. The woman who ran it for 8 years, Susan, called me in the fall and told me she was done with hosting  and asked me if I would like to take over. I was honored. The Open Reading is an event in Todos Santos that was started twenty years ago by another woman, now in her 80's, as way to bring the English-speaking writers together in the area of Todos Santos. My goal, ultimately, would for it to become a bi-lingual event--as the first Mariposa Night was.

I hosted the last open reading of the season in May at Taverna Dominique--which has since closed.  Even though I had brought my microphone and amp that day, our voices could not be amplified because the electricity was down. Instead, we sat closer together than usual, and read from our seats. It was more intimate than other open readings, and the first women who read asked for feedback--which I had never seen happen before. This prompted everyone to ask for feedback. The discussions and the lack of amplification made the event feel more like a workshop. This felt right to me, as it often feels strange after a reading to not receive feedback. Reading your writing in public is vulnerable, and it is important to get a sense of how people respond to your work.

I read last, as I always do since I became host. I read my piece about Mariposa Night. I wrote it in a more experimental style that I've been trying lately, which is a combination of an essay, a story & a poem. After reading it, I received some very positive feedback. One person told me that it made her want to go to Mariposa Night--which was one of the goals of the piece. One writer, Michael, suggested that I record my voice speaking the piece, and add music. I really liked that idea. I had already been experimenting with this idea in a collaboration with my amazing & talented therapist/musician/artist friend Holly Mae. In our collaboration, I wove two different poems together, thus masking them. You can listen to it here. It's called Open Up The Space.

I have yet to make a recording of the Mariposa Night piece. But instead, I recorded myself reading one of my recent poems that I like, called A Spider's Poem. I read the poem in three different voices and then layered the voices in different ways--even though they overlap, the repetition of the same poem highlights the lines rather than masking them.

Here it is:

Aesthetic responses?

What is the feeling of this piece?

What images does it bring?

Is it hard to grasp because of the layering or does the meaning come through?

Recording "Rock-n-Roll Thing," First Try

Okay, it's time to return to my first blog post of the month, where I listed subjects of blog posts that I would write if I didn't care what people thought. One of the items on that list was sharing my music (and bragging about it.) This is one the most vulnerable of things for me to share, and yet, I know it's time. I have been pouring my creative energy into writing songs, singing, playing guitar and (more recently) ukelele every day for the past two years. I am ready to take the plunge, and share my songs and the process of making music.

This is the summer that we record my newest songs. I have 10-20 songs never recorded and most of them never performed in public. I don't know what you will think of them, but I love them.

Lucas and I have had a living room band, called Garafön for ten years. Lucas is an amazing multi-instrumentalist. For Garafön, he  plays drums, bass and sometimes writes catchy & beautiful unfinished rock/pop songs. He also plays: piano, guitar, accordion & penny whistle. We will be doing the recordings together on Garageband. The last time I recorded (in a real multi-track way) any music was 2003, in NYC, with my all-lady band, Social Service.

I am going to share with you one of my most recent songs, which Lucas and I performed for the first (and only time) at Mariposa Night in February. Mariposa Night is a community multi-arts performance and guerrilla gallery event I launched earlier this year through Art For Life, my community arts organization & business in Southern Baja.

The title for the song was inspired by Emilio, who told me he was a rock-n-roll thing way back when he was 3. He's almost 6 now. His latest favorite song is: Ring of Fire. The kid has taste. We listened to it together this morning in the car.

This was our first recording of Rock-n-Roll Thing. Just a test. A first draft to check the sound. We will be re-recording it very soon and adding more instrumentation. I would like to speed up the tempo, and the vocal performance could be better. I am sharing this with you to show the process of making music.

Here goes:

GROOVETROTTERS

ZOELAB 365  DAY 42

We had Georgie and Vinnie over for a sleepover last night, who are still here, while the Groovetrotters (their older brothers and dad) performed their regular gig last night at a Pan Asian restaurant. I had done a photoshoot with the Groovetrotters the day before. They will use one of the photos for their new ad for their Friday night gigs at the restaurant, which will be displayed on a huge billboard on the way into Todos Santos.  This will be my largest and most seen display of photography. Here are a few of my favorites from the shoot:

This last one above is my personal favorite. By an act of coincidental artistic grace, a school bus just happened to slowly pass by while we were shooting. I want to re-shoot it so that the bus is going in the same direction as the boys, (if we can find another school bus) which would be towards Todos Santos, where their performance is. If I can set up the shot right, it could be a great first album cover. The ironic is thing is all these boys are being home schooled by their parents, but I love the idea that they are trying  to hitchhike a ride on a school bus to their gig. This is pure coincidence, that I was inadvertently designing record covers, focusing on rock-n-roll in my blog, and then was asked to do this photo shoot. Eventually we will shoot a music video for them in the desert.

For the photo shoot, I accepted a trade of mangos and meat. In addition to being a musician with many other talents, Ben is also a butcher, and had a successful meat business--raising and butchering his own animals (free range, organic.) But for now he is focusing on being a professional musician, and the meat is for his family, and for occasional trades. Yesterday, we made smoothies from the mangoes and Lucas cooked up the pork chops he gave us. I didn’t eat them because I was feeling sick, but I heard they were delicious!