Sally Irvine, an indie filmmaker from London, has begun working on a documentary about Scarce. Sally and I met for the first time in London at our show last fall at The Islington Bar Academy. She had just finished reading my book, Aching To Be, and seeing Scarce live brought the book into the present. The show had brought the sounds and sights beyond the words on the page into a sweaty mess of rock and roll. She and I began a conversation that night after the show about bringing the story into film. As an artist she told me she appreciated my honesty in the book and the personal touch perhaps a woman adds to being in the rock and roll mix. We connected as females, but also as artists who love music.
As the project began to unfold, we talked about the pitfalls of rock band documentaries. How stupid rock bands sound when they talk about music, and how rock documentaries are usually about famous bands. Then Sally began talking about making the documentary more like a visual book. A visual story with sounds and voices—more like a piece of artwork. The painter in me connected with that completely.
I got excited the way I do when I sit down to begin a painting or a write a song.— that kind of initial excitement that allows a a work of art or music to move from your mind into motion. I began delving through my old tour diaries and sketchbooks, and my paintings searching for pieces of visuals that Sally could use to express the visuals of Scarce. I wanted to find things that would allow Sally to paint a picture of Scarce in video.
The connections in a band starts inward from the music and the people creating it, and move outward through a recording or on a stage to the listener. Chick, Joe, and I connect every time the music hits the air. There is a sensuality, energy, and drive that we all feel together. It is motion and being. It is feeling alive. Any kind of artwork is about that feeling.
Thanks to all our friends in London, Halifax, Australia, and America for joining and being a part of painting that picture with Sally by talking about Scarce in front of her camera, sending photographs and live footage. Chick, Joe, and I are so thankful to have people who share that connection with us when we play and make music—it is the pulse of what keeps this band in motion.
We look forward to touring in the fall to promote the documentary. Sally and I are talking about a tour, Velvet Underground style, where we show the documentary and then Scarce will play live afterwards. A Warhol party of sorts—Scarce style. Coming to a theater near you this fall.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
WORD OF MOUTH
I have been thinking about blogging, since I started this one, and thinking what else is there left to say about music? Or about out band? A good friend Everett True (a rock critic and music fan) said on his blog, now that there is the internet everyone is a critic and asked the same question (apologies for any misinterpretation on my part, Everett). What else is there left to say that hasn't been said a million times about a band? A rippin solo, super rocking, changing the world, blah, blah, blah.
When I want to hear about music it is through a person saying you got to listen to it. I don't want to read every little detail about how the music got that way, I just want to close my eyes and listen. I want to use my ears. I don't want to think at all. I want to feel. I want to get lost. Maybe you are thinking now, why did you write a book then? I guess my answer is, the book was about a story of a couple people that just happen to play music. I felt that I wanted to honour Chick, my good friend who has been through so much, and who surprises me everyday. It felt like a story worth telling to me. His life felt like a story of amazing survival against all odds-and is teaching me how to be a fighter in this world.
The record, dear reader, is going great. It is surprising us the directions it is taking us. Chick has been playing some of the most interesting guitar he has ever done. Joe has done some amazing percussion and solid drumming. The songs sound like Scarce but are growing and morphing into the ten years we have been living life. But other than that, I realize you must listen for yourselves. It is ultimately up to the listener to decide. It is up to the listener to spread the word. It all comes down to word of mouth. It all comes down to you.
So dear readers I promise to give you updates on what Scarce is up to, but don't want to belittle you with talking up this and that. I think I began to feel silly about this blogging, perhaps. Or run out of things to say at the moment. Perhaps it is the process of making a record that can be exhausting, and leave you just wanting to listen and be quiet-and perhaps just be. I think that is where Scarce is-just being.
We will be back in the studio this weekend to wrap up tracking, and then move on to mixing and mastering. We are hoping to have the record completed by mid summer and then up for sale by the fall. Thanks to everyone for your continued support and enthusiasm and word of mouth that has kept us going this second time around. Our friend Sally Irvine is working hard on a Scarce documentary that will be out in the fall as well. Looking forward to sharing with you all in person when the leaves start to fall.
When I want to hear about music it is through a person saying you got to listen to it. I don't want to read every little detail about how the music got that way, I just want to close my eyes and listen. I want to use my ears. I don't want to think at all. I want to feel. I want to get lost. Maybe you are thinking now, why did you write a book then? I guess my answer is, the book was about a story of a couple people that just happen to play music. I felt that I wanted to honour Chick, my good friend who has been through so much, and who surprises me everyday. It felt like a story worth telling to me. His life felt like a story of amazing survival against all odds-and is teaching me how to be a fighter in this world.
The record, dear reader, is going great. It is surprising us the directions it is taking us. Chick has been playing some of the most interesting guitar he has ever done. Joe has done some amazing percussion and solid drumming. The songs sound like Scarce but are growing and morphing into the ten years we have been living life. But other than that, I realize you must listen for yourselves. It is ultimately up to the listener to decide. It is up to the listener to spread the word. It all comes down to word of mouth. It all comes down to you.
So dear readers I promise to give you updates on what Scarce is up to, but don't want to belittle you with talking up this and that. I think I began to feel silly about this blogging, perhaps. Or run out of things to say at the moment. Perhaps it is the process of making a record that can be exhausting, and leave you just wanting to listen and be quiet-and perhaps just be. I think that is where Scarce is-just being.
We will be back in the studio this weekend to wrap up tracking, and then move on to mixing and mastering. We are hoping to have the record completed by mid summer and then up for sale by the fall. Thanks to everyone for your continued support and enthusiasm and word of mouth that has kept us going this second time around. Our friend Sally Irvine is working hard on a Scarce documentary that will be out in the fall as well. Looking forward to sharing with you all in person when the leaves start to fall.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
IT WAS SO GOOD, FILL ME ANOTHER CUP
Making a record is like writing poetry. It is hard, inspirational, empowering, and methodical. In the end you have a group of songs that hold together by meaning, time and space. And, just like a poem, when you listen back it feels effortless —as if it just fell together.
The new record we are working on has been the most collaborative yet. We have all
stuck our hands in different parts and pushed them around like a piece of clay. Chick and I have swapped
parts of different songs, changed each others lyrics, added chords, and then Joe turned it all upside down and forced us to remove our thoughts of notes, chords, and melody and simply feel the heartbeat of each song. Along the way, our friend
Chris Cugini has driven us on this journey in his studio at his house. Chris has been a friend for so long that he is a great driver for this band, and has given us the space and time to allow things to be what they will.
We are at the halfway point in the record. Drums and bass tracks all layed down along with some padded
acoustic guitars. Some vocals and rhythm guitars are there as well like sketches of what is to come, and now we are getting ready to build that into something. The music seems to be moving in several new directions off of a single path from which we started on as a band. We are on a journey and we don't know which way it will lead us in the end, but we are moving from one place to another. The movement is the part to feel and to really take in. Where you are headed is less important. I try to bring myself back to that thought in life, but playing music forces me to do just that.
Even the song titles as I look at them scribbled down in my notebook, feel like they tell many stories. Stories that keep evolving. Stories don't stay stationary. Here is the list of song titles as they have come along so far, (not in album order, but does anyone listen like that anymore?):
1. Southern Highway
2. If you did not Know it
3. Jacqueline
4. The Hurricane
5. Break your Heart
6. No one likes you
7. The River
8. Stupid in a cup
9. Circus Boy
10. Between my teeth
11. Slowlearner
Along the way to restarting Scarce and making this new record, I have met people that ask me why I keep doing this "band thing" . You can't possibly make any money off of it. But this band, I realized is much more than just a band making music. It is a part of my family. The day that Joe and I found Chick in his apartment caused a connection so deep and special. It was hidden though and I didn't see it for a long time. When you have found something in your life that makes you grow and change hold on to it with dear life, reader. I walked away once not realizing that simple thing. Chick, Joe, and I give each other that remembrance every time we spend time together— life isn't where you are going. It is where you are. It should always be. It is easy to get lost when the drive in this world is on money, fame, success, things that hold monetary value only. I find now that the simplest things that give your life meaning are the ones that you have had all along inside of you. It is in your power to have that, you just have to make sure you are looking close enough. I feel so lucky that Scarce is my constant reminder to do so.
I will leave you with some of Chick's lyrics that put my head in the space of remembering this thought this morning:
(From the song "Stupid in a cup")
It was so good, it tore me up
It was so good I'm all torn up
It was so good, won't you fill me another cup
The new record we are working on has been the most collaborative yet. We have all
stuck our hands in different parts and pushed them around like a piece of clay. Chick and I have swapped
parts of different songs, changed each others lyrics, added chords, and then Joe turned it all upside down and forced us to remove our thoughts of notes, chords, and melody and simply feel the heartbeat of each song. Along the way, our friend
Chris Cugini has driven us on this journey in his studio at his house. Chris has been a friend for so long that he is a great driver for this band, and has given us the space and time to allow things to be what they will.
We are at the halfway point in the record. Drums and bass tracks all layed down along with some padded
acoustic guitars. Some vocals and rhythm guitars are there as well like sketches of what is to come, and now we are getting ready to build that into something. The music seems to be moving in several new directions off of a single path from which we started on as a band. We are on a journey and we don't know which way it will lead us in the end, but we are moving from one place to another. The movement is the part to feel and to really take in. Where you are headed is less important. I try to bring myself back to that thought in life, but playing music forces me to do just that.
Even the song titles as I look at them scribbled down in my notebook, feel like they tell many stories. Stories that keep evolving. Stories don't stay stationary. Here is the list of song titles as they have come along so far, (not in album order, but does anyone listen like that anymore?):
1. Southern Highway
2. If you did not Know it
3. Jacqueline
4. The Hurricane
5. Break your Heart
6. No one likes you
7. The River
8. Stupid in a cup
9. Circus Boy
10. Between my teeth
11. Slowlearner
Along the way to restarting Scarce and making this new record, I have met people that ask me why I keep doing this "band thing" . You can't possibly make any money off of it. But this band, I realized is much more than just a band making music. It is a part of my family. The day that Joe and I found Chick in his apartment caused a connection so deep and special. It was hidden though and I didn't see it for a long time. When you have found something in your life that makes you grow and change hold on to it with dear life, reader. I walked away once not realizing that simple thing. Chick, Joe, and I give each other that remembrance every time we spend time together— life isn't where you are going. It is where you are. It should always be. It is easy to get lost when the drive in this world is on money, fame, success, things that hold monetary value only. I find now that the simplest things that give your life meaning are the ones that you have had all along inside of you. It is in your power to have that, you just have to make sure you are looking close enough. I feel so lucky that Scarce is my constant reminder to do so.
I will leave you with some of Chick's lyrics that put my head in the space of remembering this thought this morning:
(From the song "Stupid in a cup")
It was so good, it tore me up
It was so good I'm all torn up
It was so good, won't you fill me another cup
HALIFAX IS FOR LOVERS
Being back in the city of Halifax, even in the cold blustery chill of late October, was just lovely. Scarce was invited to come play The Halifax Pop Festival. Living the rock and roll dream—free Hotel, booze, loud music, and all play and no work for three days. Our first night began with wandering down the streets in and out of clubs, and finally settling in at the Seahorse Tavern Inn where we were going to play the next night. Onstage was a DJ and rapper laying down old style hip hop beats and rhymes. Chick stayed at the bar, and Joe and I took over the dance floor. A little hot chick joined our group giving Joe the eye... and Joe returning the favor...but at set end turns out she is dating the lead rapper. Joe and I make a quick escape to the bar to find Chick has split—ditched us in our rhythm section haze of drunken dancing. Joe and I head out to continue the night and me to play wingman at yet another club for Joe. Sipping on my whiskey on the rocks, and ahhh said drunken stupid jock tries to pick me up...and where has my wingman gone? AHHHH...Joe has been distracted by a blonde. A waitress sensing male harassment vibe, links my arm and then escorts me away from him. I am so thankful that women seem to have that inner sonar. And Joe is back again as blondie has disappeared onto disco floor. We try to follow, but she has escaped...Ahhh those blondes.
Drunk, drunk, drunk, finally Joe and I decide wisely night should end and find our way up the hill to our hotel next to the big fort, time for a little drunken sleep. Next day late wake up just in time for our midday instore book reading and acoustic set in a mall. Forgot it was a weekday we set the bookstore happening for, so two people show up. Timing is everything. Still we make the most of sipping Irish coffees out of styrofoam and talking to two very nice people who show up. One of them even offers us a ride to the club for soundcheck (god I love Halifax!). But no one has shown up at the club to give us our soundcheck. We head out to promote the show punk rock style. Chick takes the no thank you helping and goes back to the hotel to chill. Joe and I, the ever ready tourists, head down a nice small street to see if we can drum up some folks to come down to the show. A nice girly shop catches my eye and Joe gladly follows me in after seeing the cute salesgirl through the window. Joe picks out a nice newspaper boy hat for me as then checks out a redhead salesgirl in the mirror. Joe pushes the impulse buy and begins flirting with the redhead as I throw away some money. Joe is encouraging, "looks good, Joyce". Joe tells her about our show. "Cool, she says, I'll try and make it."
In and out of a couple shops repeating our same covert action, and looks like we might have some girls at the show. Our two man PR campaign continues store to store, except I am doing all the buying and asking Joe why this must be so? All in the name of rock and roll, and I am having fun, throwing caution to the wind and my bank account. Finally, hunger wins out over our promo campaign, and we plan to meet up with Chick and his friend Lisa who flew in for the festival. A night of our favorite food, sushi. MMMMM. Then we hang out at Lisa's pad at The Westin. Nice hotel. We make ourselves right at home in the lobby, and the man at the desk eyes us...yep a rock band. GUILTY!
At 1 A.M. we take the stage to a nice full house at the Seahorse Tavern Inn. And just like London, we feel the love spreading out from the room onto the stage. Then we let it all go, sweat, sex, lusty, rocking long set—pure rock and roll bliss. The crowd shows us the love, shouting out song titles, and driving us on into a frenzy. These are the moments when I feel truly alive in this world. That kind of energy can't ever be replaced. It is truly an addictive rush.
After the show we are invited by some friends who own a bar and lounge to come down for drinks. They open the bar just for us, giving us the rock and roll treatment. AC/DC blasting through the stereo. I am informed that this was the same place where we played a party on our first trip to Halifax, but back then it had been a big warehouse of cinder blocks and rubble. In my drunkenness I feel a waft of Deja Vu, but then another rockin' song on the stereo and another whiskey and I am back in the present and hoping that the night can last just a little bit longer. Halifax has given this band another warm welcome and we are feeling the love. Hoping to make it back again another festival next year.
A BIG SHOUT OUT TO HALIFAX. SCARCE LOVES YOU!
Drunk, drunk, drunk, finally Joe and I decide wisely night should end and find our way up the hill to our hotel next to the big fort, time for a little drunken sleep. Next day late wake up just in time for our midday instore book reading and acoustic set in a mall. Forgot it was a weekday we set the bookstore happening for, so two people show up. Timing is everything. Still we make the most of sipping Irish coffees out of styrofoam and talking to two very nice people who show up. One of them even offers us a ride to the club for soundcheck (god I love Halifax!). But no one has shown up at the club to give us our soundcheck. We head out to promote the show punk rock style. Chick takes the no thank you helping and goes back to the hotel to chill. Joe and I, the ever ready tourists, head down a nice small street to see if we can drum up some folks to come down to the show. A nice girly shop catches my eye and Joe gladly follows me in after seeing the cute salesgirl through the window. Joe picks out a nice newspaper boy hat for me as then checks out a redhead salesgirl in the mirror. Joe pushes the impulse buy and begins flirting with the redhead as I throw away some money. Joe is encouraging, "looks good, Joyce". Joe tells her about our show. "Cool, she says, I'll try and make it."
In and out of a couple shops repeating our same covert action, and looks like we might have some girls at the show. Our two man PR campaign continues store to store, except I am doing all the buying and asking Joe why this must be so? All in the name of rock and roll, and I am having fun, throwing caution to the wind and my bank account. Finally, hunger wins out over our promo campaign, and we plan to meet up with Chick and his friend Lisa who flew in for the festival. A night of our favorite food, sushi. MMMMM. Then we hang out at Lisa's pad at The Westin. Nice hotel. We make ourselves right at home in the lobby, and the man at the desk eyes us...yep a rock band. GUILTY!
At 1 A.M. we take the stage to a nice full house at the Seahorse Tavern Inn. And just like London, we feel the love spreading out from the room onto the stage. Then we let it all go, sweat, sex, lusty, rocking long set—pure rock and roll bliss. The crowd shows us the love, shouting out song titles, and driving us on into a frenzy. These are the moments when I feel truly alive in this world. That kind of energy can't ever be replaced. It is truly an addictive rush.
After the show we are invited by some friends who own a bar and lounge to come down for drinks. They open the bar just for us, giving us the rock and roll treatment. AC/DC blasting through the stereo. I am informed that this was the same place where we played a party on our first trip to Halifax, but back then it had been a big warehouse of cinder blocks and rubble. In my drunkenness I feel a waft of Deja Vu, but then another rockin' song on the stereo and another whiskey and I am back in the present and hoping that the night can last just a little bit longer. Halifax has given this band another warm welcome and we are feeling the love. Hoping to make it back again another festival next year.
A BIG SHOUT OUT TO HALIFAX. SCARCE LOVES YOU!
A BAND AND A RECORD, LOST AND FOUND AGAIN IN LONDON
Hamburg brought us nothing but trouble, (that naughty city), but London brought us home. Finally, after many long years we were going to have our first headlining show in London. Our second chance had come. Our second chance to erase that stopped momentum we lost way long ago when Chick fell ill. As I stepped onto the stage at the Islington Bar Academy, I smiled at the realization that we had made it to that moment in time. We were about to head forward into the unknown—but I wasn't scared I was thrilled. We had changed the past and had done what we thought we would never do again. That felt so empowering. It felt so important.
A couple people held up a sign that read, "Welcome Back Scarce". The small room was filled with people. The air was filled with something too—something that I hadn't felt before. Everyone wanted us to make it to this moment too. They wanted it as much as we did. London wanted us to go on as a band. As we played the Deadsexy record for the first time in years on these shores, those songs were being loved in a way they had never gotten the chance to. The songs were getting a second life after years of sitting on a shelf collecting dust. A band and a record lost and then found again, by a small group of people in London. A small group of people who did believe in a band called Scarce.
When Chick started singing the lines, "I wouldn't miss a minute of this," in the song Freakshadow, the audience began singing along. That line—that line meant so much right now. That line summed up this moment in time. That line even choked up Chick. I could see it, as he paused in front of the microphone and allowed the audience to continue singing for him for a brief second. For the rest of the set, song after song, the audience continued to sing with Chick and I. The Deadsexy record had well, been brought back from the dead so to speak. Song after song, Scarce was whole again— all thanks to a group of people in London.
In classic Scarce style, the club cut our set short and told us we had to get off the stage so they could make way for the next show. The stage manager didn't even give us a second to step down from the stage before screaming at us. A crash back down to reality, ahhh classic Scarce. But then something happened that I didn't expect, I was surrounded by a group of people asking me to sign tickets —tickets that had been printed up for our headlining tour that we never made it to. I was overwhelmed as more and more people asked me the same thing. They had all held onto those tickets. All these years.
I signed away tickets, copies of my book, record sleeves—all while being slowly pushed out the doors by the bouncers of the club. We wanted to stay and hang out and just talk to all these people who had shown us so much love but The Islington Bar Academy did not understand, they had a club to run. Business as usual. We wanted to hang out with all the audience all night into the wee hours of the morning drinking and celebrating this amazing power they had given us as an audience.
We wanted to thank the London audience somehow, so I am hoping this installment will instill to you UK readers how much you gave us at the Islington Bar Academy. We cannot thank you enough London. So I end this installment more as a thank you note than a story, because I feel like Scarce can never express how thankful we were for that night. It made us a whole again.
THANKS TO LONDON FOR FINDING US AGAIN. WE WILL BE BACK IN THE FALL AT A BETTER CLUB NEXT TIME SO CAN ALL SHARE A DRINK!
CHEERS,
Joyce, Chick, and Joe
A DRUMMER'S NIGHT IN HAMBURG
Landing at Heathrow Airport in London this past fall for a European/UK tour, felt like we had finally moved beyond our PAST. Most of the venues booked were the same ones we had played with Hole right before Chick's brain hemorrhage. With all this intensity of retracing old steps and rewriting history for Scarce, there was some good old rock and roll tour moments happening along the way, and the highlight was in Hamburg. This incident involves a crappy tour manager and a drunken drummer.
The tour had been going well when we pulled up in our sprinter in front of the Grosse Freiheit on the infamous Reeperbahn in Hamburg, Germany. However something had been building underneath, ever so slowly. That would be the tour manager of the headlining band (whom I will just refer to as TM)—and his intense dislike for our band. It started with not allowing us to crash for a quick rest on some couches in London (after our redeye flight from the states); to moving us into a carbon monoxide dressing room where the promoter advised us that "we should keep the door open, if we didn't want to get poisoned"; to asking us to shorten our thirty minute set time; and to a host of other minor things that we shrugged off to TM's sour disposition and dislike of our band.
The beginning of the day started like the rest: load in, soundcheck, and a nice meal. We played a rocking show, although Joe was a bit tipsy by the end of our set as he had dragged a bottle of Jack Daniels on the stage. TM appeared as our last note rang out and yelled at Stan, our tour manager, because we had gone over by "one minute" and said, "don't let it happen again". Then TM disappeared down the stage stairs yelling at a club worker who was smoking too close to him backstage.
We were staying at a flat in the neighborhood so after the show we loaded all our equipment into the van, checked to make sure the headliner's tour bus had room to get around us, and headed out to see what the night had to offer for fun. We found a bar with a nice Arabian dancer in a white go-go outfit and matching boots dancing around on a pole, and good beer. The dancer stopped in front of me and asked, "Are you guys in a band?" She started chatting when I told her what I played in the band. She kept hugging and kissing me saying, "so cool"—until the guys started yelling at me to let her dance. We got into tour drinking mode (drinking as much as you can) until I was too wasted to even sit in the stool at the bar. Stan escorted me back to the flat, and we left Joe and Chick to their own rock and roll adventures on the infamous street where pretty much anything is possible and legal.
At 4:30 in the morning a series of banging doors leading up to our flat opened one by one, signaling trouble approaching. That trouble appeared as Joe, who came bursting into the flat screaming, "It's bad man. Bad man! OH shit! FUCK!!!!!!." After several minutes of drunken swearing, Stan finally got Joe to tell us what happened. It seems that as Joe and Chick criss-crossed the streets on the Reeperbahn in a drunken stupor they ran straight into TM in front of the Gross Freiheit. TM approached Joe and Chick and informed them that he was going to have our van towed because they couldn't get their bus around our van.
This led to Chick sprawling his body across the back of our van saying, "If you do, you'll have to tow me too." And he lit up a cigarette and smoked a puff into TM's angry face. Then Joe's drunkenness got the best of him and he got right up in TM's face and said, "Why the fuck would you do that? We have no money? That's just fucked up. And besides you can get around us. Fuck you man!" A crowd of crew members from the club began to gather around Joe and TM. The tension was building. "I'll slash all your fucking tires man! You fucking DICK!"
TM turned bright red and said, "You are not welcome in Berlin. You're off the tour." Then Joe ran over to the big tour bus and smashed his fist up against the tour bus screaming, "FUCK YOU!!!!" Immediately the crew dragged Joe away until he shook them loose and ran away. Alcohol can make you super human, or at least feel that way. Stan and I were amazed in Joe's stupor that he had successfully opened all four doors leading up to the flat. He was stinking drunk but amazingly still coordinated—and Joe's punching hand was swollen Frankenstein style. Superhuman drunk drummer with Frankenstein hand, grabbed Stan with his good hand and off they went.
By the time Stan and Joe arrived at the scene of the crime, only Chick was left smoking another cigarette leaning up against the van. The tour bus was gone. It seems they had had plenty of room. It seems that TM just needed to be, well just a dick.
When we showed up in Berlin, TM had made sure we were not welcome. He took away our rider and made sure we didn't get any food or water to drink. The promoter apologized profusely to Stan saying he felt like his hands were tied. Then TM had the balls to ask Stan in the middle of our set if we could end our set ten minutes early so they could get on with podcasting the headlining band's show. Stan smiled at him and said, "No. We really can't." And for once, TM had no power and he walked away defeated.
We had a nice dinner that night in Berlin and celebrated never having to see TM again. Ahh, it's only rock and roll but I like it. Yes I do. I DO!
NO APOLOGIES NECESSARY ANYMORE
Driving in the van in the wee hours of the morning after our first show back, it seemed surreal. I felt like I was back in time. But I wasn't. I had a whole life beyond Scarce. I was a mom! Yet, here I was packed into a van with Chick and Joe, and all our equipment, just like I had done so many times before. My body was humming with a life that had sat inert inside me for a long time. After all, rock and roll was something that you did when you were young. Then you grow up, have kids, buy a house, and do grown up things—things that don't include playing in a rock band. I was happy with my life being "mom", but, this was another happiness—a happiness of something that you do for yourself. Being a mom had been all about giving what you had inside you to your children to nurture. Now, I felt like I was nurturing myself back to me.
Chick and I delved into working on new songs so we could put out a new record. We both felt it was important to get beyond our album "Deadsexy" in order to move forward. During our songwriting sessions we began conversations that slowly chipped away at all the hurt we had caused each other in the past. Chick would say something to me like, "You know it killed me when you left." And then I would say, "Why did you let me walk away? Why didn't you try to stop me?" He told me about the first five years after the band broke up—how he felt nothing at all. The brain hemorrhage had left him with no emotions. He asked me, "Do you know what it is like to be here and feel nothing for what's around you? You don't feel tied to this earth. It's scary."
Chick said over dinner when his birthday arrived, "Glad to be celebrating another one of these, and with you. Could have been celebrating ten years of my death." "Me too." I said feeling truly thankful that he was here and back in my life. And after a couple weeks, we slowly ran out of apologies. We were in the room and in the present. No more regrets, no more past, and no apologies were necessary anymore. We both had come to the same place, and understood and forgave each other. Now we both had our eyes focused on what lie ahead of us—the chance to make music together again. A second chance. Not everyone gets a chance to redo something over again—but here we were. Here was our chance. What we would make of it would be up to us.
We had been a band again for two months when we settled into our friend Chris Cugini's studio to record some new songs. Chick and I noted ironically that it was exactly two months time when we had made The Red Sessions, the first time around. Recording at Chris's was another familiarity that brought back smells and tastes of the past for me. We had recorded many times with Chris for b-sides years ago—and Chris was a great friend and bandmate of Chick's in Anastasia Screamed. It was so comfortable to play in his studio and work with him. Chris was like family. When Chick had been in the hospital, Chris had been such a big support to Joe and I, and hanging out with him was a reminder of knowing who your true friends are. The atmosphere was relaxed and fun. We stayed up all night drinking, playing, singing, joking, and enjoying rock and roll. There aren't many things that compare to the escapist feeling of being in a studio.
Riding on the train to work the following Monday I listened back to the rough mixes through my headphones and felt like I was drifting in and out of a strange reality. The music in my head brought my mind to the feeling of being in the music, onstage, and the loud exuberance of guitars, bass, and drums. I closed my eyes and zoned out with the hums and bumps of the train seemingly moving in time to the music in my head. I opened my eyes in time to catch my station, and drifted out with the crowd of people like a pack of cows mindlessly moving from one space to another.
Chick and I delved into working on new songs so we could put out a new record. We both felt it was important to get beyond our album "Deadsexy" in order to move forward. During our songwriting sessions we began conversations that slowly chipped away at all the hurt we had caused each other in the past. Chick would say something to me like, "You know it killed me when you left." And then I would say, "Why did you let me walk away? Why didn't you try to stop me?" He told me about the first five years after the band broke up—how he felt nothing at all. The brain hemorrhage had left him with no emotions. He asked me, "Do you know what it is like to be here and feel nothing for what's around you? You don't feel tied to this earth. It's scary."
Chick said over dinner when his birthday arrived, "Glad to be celebrating another one of these, and with you. Could have been celebrating ten years of my death." "Me too." I said feeling truly thankful that he was here and back in my life. And after a couple weeks, we slowly ran out of apologies. We were in the room and in the present. No more regrets, no more past, and no apologies were necessary anymore. We both had come to the same place, and understood and forgave each other. Now we both had our eyes focused on what lie ahead of us—the chance to make music together again. A second chance. Not everyone gets a chance to redo something over again—but here we were. Here was our chance. What we would make of it would be up to us.
We had been a band again for two months when we settled into our friend Chris Cugini's studio to record some new songs. Chick and I noted ironically that it was exactly two months time when we had made The Red Sessions, the first time around. Recording at Chris's was another familiarity that brought back smells and tastes of the past for me. We had recorded many times with Chris for b-sides years ago—and Chris was a great friend and bandmate of Chick's in Anastasia Screamed. It was so comfortable to play in his studio and work with him. Chris was like family. When Chick had been in the hospital, Chris had been such a big support to Joe and I, and hanging out with him was a reminder of knowing who your true friends are. The atmosphere was relaxed and fun. We stayed up all night drinking, playing, singing, joking, and enjoying rock and roll. There aren't many things that compare to the escapist feeling of being in a studio.
Riding on the train to work the following Monday I listened back to the rough mixes through my headphones and felt like I was drifting in and out of a strange reality. The music in my head brought my mind to the feeling of being in the music, onstage, and the loud exuberance of guitars, bass, and drums. I closed my eyes and zoned out with the hums and bumps of the train seemingly moving in time to the music in my head. I opened my eyes in time to catch my station, and drifted out with the crowd of people like a pack of cows mindlessly moving from one space to another.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
BACK IN MY LIFE
Thanks to everyone who bought my book Aching To Be and sent me nice notes about how much they enjoyed the book. I have decided that in return I will slowly tell the continuation of Scarce's evolving story through this blog. Chick, Joe and I have been overwhelmed and surprised by how many people held on to their belief in this band. Thank you for that. It means the world to us, and we will continue to make music and try and keep pushing the boundaries of where we are and where we are going. That being said, here is the start of that journey the second time around and how things came to be...yet again
BACK IN MY LIFE
For years after I left the band, Scarce haunted me. I worked through letting it go as best as I could, but it was always hard—always unanswered questions, and many, many regrets. I had run into Chick a couple times when we both lived in New York, but it was always awkward and uncomfortable. After 9-11 Chick called me to see if I was okay, but once the dust settled in the city, life went back to normal. Chick moved to New Orleans, I had a baby girl, and we lost touch again. When I was finally ready to put out my book I realized that I needed to let Chick read it first. Chick and I hadn't spoken in five years—but when he answered the phone he just said, "Hey, Joyce." I laughed and said, "How did you know it was me?" It was as if, no time had passed. We caught up and I told him about the book. He told me that day he had been bitten by a brown recluse spider, and I thought, MY GOD CHICK! He survived, thank god. But in classic Chick style, he laughed at his situation telling me, "my arm swelled up like you don't know and I had a show and I just strummed the guitar without feeling a thing."
I apologized to Chick for leaving the band the way I did. The thing I realized after writing the book, was somehow I had lost sight of the important thing about this band, my friend Chick. He had almost died—and I never thought about that. I just gave up on him. We spoke again after Chick had a chance to read the draft I sent him. He said, "I liked the book, and boy was I happy when that guy had a brain hemorrhage. He was such an ASSHOLE!" I acknowledged that the book needed some work still, and we reminisced about the silly arguments we used to have.
A couple months later, Chick told me about a guy named Larry who had managed Chick for a time. He was interested in putting out some of the Scarce unreleased demos online on his record label Killing Floor Records which he co-owned with Chris Cugini one of Chick's oldest friends from Boston. Then somehow we fell into talking about doing a show. Then somehow, we both admitted, "I missed you. A lot." And it was a great relief.
In usual Scarce style the recordings got boggled down in red tape and didn't come to fruition, but Chick and I decided we really wanted to try and play together again. Chick packed up all his belongings and decided to see what fate had in store in New England. When he showed up on my doorstep he looked tired. It felt like deja vu. Suddenly my past walked into the front doorway of my house and became my present again. In an instant, time was erased, at least for the moment. I felt giddy and scared, and I can only imagine how Chick felt. (readers you will have to beg him to write his side someday to find out).
When Chick and I sat down to play together for the first time it was instant—the connection still there. The moment our voices hit the air together singing, "maybe on days like this," I felt it again. Something special, something amazing. Joe showed up a week later from New York to practice for the reunion show, which did come to fruition thanks to the help of our friends Larry and Chris who worked hard to promote and put together a special night for Scarce. When Joe electrified our practice I was flooded with emotion. Everything had changed again. Scarce was a band again. I was playing music again. I could see that Chick and Joe felt the same way. We all smiled our way through our old songs that we used to know with our eyes closed. And it felt so good. It felt unbelievable. I felt so alive again. It felt so special. It was still Scarce even after ten years.
The night of our first show back, I was nervous and excited at the same time. People had flown in from far away to see the show, and the small club, TT the Bears, was packed. I couldn't believe after ten years people still remembered our band and still carried that same passion for the band they had so long ago. That night I got lost once again on that stage. I felt right at home. I felt like I had never left, yet, I had for so long. I felt beautiful and strong. I felt that passion of being in the moment, and only thinking about what is happening right at your feet. I felt like we had gone back to the beginning—starting over again letting the music be our guide.
BACK IN MY LIFE
For years after I left the band, Scarce haunted me. I worked through letting it go as best as I could, but it was always hard—always unanswered questions, and many, many regrets. I had run into Chick a couple times when we both lived in New York, but it was always awkward and uncomfortable. After 9-11 Chick called me to see if I was okay, but once the dust settled in the city, life went back to normal. Chick moved to New Orleans, I had a baby girl, and we lost touch again. When I was finally ready to put out my book I realized that I needed to let Chick read it first. Chick and I hadn't spoken in five years—but when he answered the phone he just said, "Hey, Joyce." I laughed and said, "How did you know it was me?" It was as if, no time had passed. We caught up and I told him about the book. He told me that day he had been bitten by a brown recluse spider, and I thought, MY GOD CHICK! He survived, thank god. But in classic Chick style, he laughed at his situation telling me, "my arm swelled up like you don't know and I had a show and I just strummed the guitar without feeling a thing."
I apologized to Chick for leaving the band the way I did. The thing I realized after writing the book, was somehow I had lost sight of the important thing about this band, my friend Chick. He had almost died—and I never thought about that. I just gave up on him. We spoke again after Chick had a chance to read the draft I sent him. He said, "I liked the book, and boy was I happy when that guy had a brain hemorrhage. He was such an ASSHOLE!" I acknowledged that the book needed some work still, and we reminisced about the silly arguments we used to have.
A couple months later, Chick told me about a guy named Larry who had managed Chick for a time. He was interested in putting out some of the Scarce unreleased demos online on his record label Killing Floor Records which he co-owned with Chris Cugini one of Chick's oldest friends from Boston. Then somehow we fell into talking about doing a show. Then somehow, we both admitted, "I missed you. A lot." And it was a great relief.
In usual Scarce style the recordings got boggled down in red tape and didn't come to fruition, but Chick and I decided we really wanted to try and play together again. Chick packed up all his belongings and decided to see what fate had in store in New England. When he showed up on my doorstep he looked tired. It felt like deja vu. Suddenly my past walked into the front doorway of my house and became my present again. In an instant, time was erased, at least for the moment. I felt giddy and scared, and I can only imagine how Chick felt. (readers you will have to beg him to write his side someday to find out).
When Chick and I sat down to play together for the first time it was instant—the connection still there. The moment our voices hit the air together singing, "maybe on days like this," I felt it again. Something special, something amazing. Joe showed up a week later from New York to practice for the reunion show, which did come to fruition thanks to the help of our friends Larry and Chris who worked hard to promote and put together a special night for Scarce. When Joe electrified our practice I was flooded with emotion. Everything had changed again. Scarce was a band again. I was playing music again. I could see that Chick and Joe felt the same way. We all smiled our way through our old songs that we used to know with our eyes closed. And it felt so good. It felt unbelievable. I felt so alive again. It felt so special. It was still Scarce even after ten years.
The night of our first show back, I was nervous and excited at the same time. People had flown in from far away to see the show, and the small club, TT the Bears, was packed. I couldn't believe after ten years people still remembered our band and still carried that same passion for the band they had so long ago. That night I got lost once again on that stage. I felt right at home. I felt like I had never left, yet, I had for so long. I felt beautiful and strong. I felt that passion of being in the moment, and only thinking about what is happening right at your feet. I felt like we had gone back to the beginning—starting over again letting the music be our guide.
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