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02.11.12 : Bike Rides and Birds’ Eyes

Day two was almost one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. I had a great morning, got a lot of online work done, and enjoyed watching a cloudy morning dissolve into a sunny afternoon. Took an afternoon stroll with the dog, then rode my bike to the bike shop to get a couple things checked out (since it’s been in storage for over a year), and the guy only charged me five bucks! (Note: Human interaction #1) Cooked some yellow rice and lentil soup, helped a friend with ideas for his Kickstarter campaign, and sewed a bunch of fabric sleeves for one of the remaining Kickstarter Rewards (the “Instrumentals” CDs, for those of you in-the-know) while watching a show on Netflix that my friend recommended to me.

I love riding a bike. There’s really nothing like it. It just does something to my brain — especially if I’m listening to the right music while I’m riding. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to have earbuds in while you ride in traffic… but having a soundtrack during a bike ride might be the BEST. THING. EVER. And in case anyone was wondering: the demo I posted yesterday (“The Passing of a Year”) makes a great bike ride soundtrack. /wink

I had a lot of little happy moments today, and I kept catching myself enjoying things. Like, I really enjoyed making food today, even though it was just rice and lentils. And I really do enjoy cleaning up a messy kitchen. I like wearing layers of mismatched articles of clothing when no one is around. I enjoy sewing. I like watching movies, even though they always make me sad, even when they’re not supposed to. I love having a dog around — the relationship between a human and a dog is so incredible, especially when it’s just the two of you hangin’ out around the clock.

I genuinely enjoy spending time alone. I found myself thinking that quite a lot today. It’s been such a long time since I had even one single day to myself.

At around 8 o’clock, I set up my computer to record some music. I was in a good mood and decided I’d try using drums for today’s song. I wrote the main piano part on the first take, and just went with it. I did add a couple of effects to some parts of the song, but this is still only about two hours of work and a handful of unedited takes. Before I knew it, it was a little after 10pm. Nothing makes the time fly like being immersed in an idea!

On my Google homepage I have a “word of the day” widget. Today’s word was “bird’s-eye” — and today was definitely a day full of bird’s-eye views. I kept looking in from an outside perspective, seeing a lot of simple truths. Almost everything brought me joy today, and it was easy to see the things that didn’t bring me joy. I guess lightness and darkness are easier to distinguish from far away.

So here was my view today:

Love,
Sarah

02.10.12 : Winning the Lottery

One year ago today, on February 10th, 2011, I arrived at Sea-Tac International airport on a British Airways flight from a visit to London, with barely enough money for a train ticket home. I was facing weeks of alone time in a new city with a new job and only my dog to keep me company.

The passing of important years or phases in my life seem to always be marked by some kind of out-of-the-ordinary event. This “book-ending” of years or chapters is definitely a real phenomenon in my life — and I wouldn’t be surprised if other hyper-sensitive people notice this about their lives as well. When I feel something shifting in my world, one of the first things I do is look back to see what happened about a year ago.

My “winter migration” partner-in-crime, Chris Staples, left for tour today — which makes today “Day One” of two full weeks that I will spend alone, in a half-empty house, with some food, $20 cash, a bicycle as my only transportation and my dog as my only company. I don’t know anyone in this tiny Florida town, and, quite frankly, I don’t feel safe venturing out after dark — so I’ve mentally prepared myself for two weeks of “indoor camping.” It’s the first time I’ll be alone like this in… years. Maybe ever. I probably won’t see another human being except at the grocery store or the bank.

As soon as the house got quiet today, it started to sink in that I’m going to be truly, absolutely alone for the rest of this month. After the non-stop chaos and noise of the past year, and especially the past few months of touring to Florida, getting through the holidays, working on the endless pile of Kickstarter and handmade merchandise orders, weeks of preparation for tour, traveling to Nashville and then two weeks in a van all the way up to Massachusetts and back, barely making enough money to get my plane ticket back to Florida, and then a week listening to Chris’s band rehearse in the other room — the silence today was deafening. And that feeling of slamming on the brakes felt oddly familiar, so I looked into it, and lo and behold: one year since I got off that plane in Seattle.

It absolutely blows my mind, how much can happen in just one year. But the past year in particular was excruciatingly packed with inconsistency and change — too much for my heart to handle, I’m afraid. I’ve been feeling strangely emotional since returning home from my east coast tour, and I’ve been thinking a lot about 2011 and what I wish I would have done differently, maybe subconsciously recognizing that the year is finally over, and it’s time to sort through whatever is left and make sense of it.

Last year, when faced with weeks of being alone in an unfamiliar city with no friends and no money, I fell into a slump. I immediately started a routine of coming home from my part-time job, walking the dog, making dinner and watching TV shows and movies until it was time for bed. I tried to write songs but I couldn’t; my heart was heavy. I had moved to a new city, gotten an apartment and a job, and was trying my best to stay hopeful in a situation that was totally overwhelming.

Today, I had a flash of heaviness when the door shut and everything got quiet. But it only lasted a matter of seconds before — out of nowhere — I was overcome with a wave of inspiration. Almost without even realizing it, I was already turning the living room into a makeshift recording studio. I couldn’t wait to sit at the piano and start tinkering with ideas. I made myself dinner, took a long hot shower, and got super comfortable. I even took out the lights I used on stage on my last tour and draped them around the room for ambiance! By 10pm tonight, I had recorded a really moody, soundtracky song on an out-of-tune piano with a couple of room mics and only two or three takes, no editing. It’s nothing special, but I’m totally happy with it and excited to try recording another idea tomorrow!

Last year, I seemed to have all my ducks in a row, but I couldn’t find my footing and I didn’t know exactly where I was headed or what I was trying to accomplish. It was hard to find inspiration. I felt weighed down and confused. I remember it clearly; I was watching a LOT of “30 Rock” and eating a LOT of pizza. I was alone and I felt alone.

Today, despite my seemingly dire situation, I actually feel like this upcoming two weeks with no money, no job, no one around and barely a place to call home might actually be the highest point of my career so far! Why? Because I have nothing to do for the next two weeks but work on my art. The important bills are paid, I have enough food and money to get by, and I have transportation if I need it. I don’t have to leave the house — in fact, I can’t leave the house! I’m stuck here with a house full of instruments and recording gear, in tropical Florida weather, with no obligations. The only thing I have to do, other than drink coffee and take care of my dog, is CREATE. Work on handmade merch orders. Design things for my Etsy shop. Email my friends about collaborations and upcoming shows. Work on my ideas for EIY. Call my brother. Brainstorm with my booking agent. Read. Make zines. Record an entire album’s worth of whatever kind of music I feel like making.

I feel like I just won the lottery. And it’s funny, because I thought that winning the lottery would be the only way I’d ever be able to afford to do the things I want to do. Turns out that choosing to be poor was the shortcut I was looking for, and now I get to cash in.

From London to Florida…

01.29.12 : Life on the Ocean

We spent the past couple nights at Joe from Dinner And A Suit’s parents’ house, in the band’s hometown (outside Philadelphia). The house is big and inviting, with billowing white curtains on the circular front porch and an old stone walkway leading through a garden to the front screen door that creaks as it opens to a beautiful home filled with color, artwork, food, dogs, and family photographs. I felt instantly at home, an old worn-out piano being the first thing I saw in the foyer.

I always love getting to see people’s homes and meet their families on tour. Every house is different, every family is unique and interesting in their own way, and they each have a different approach to building a home. I’ve struggled with my idea and definition of “family” and “home” the past couple years, so getting to tour and experience other people’s families and homes has been very therapeutic and inspiring for me.

Last night’s show was in the attic of a big craftsmen style house belonging to a photographer/artist couple and their seven children (longtime family friends of Dinner And A Suit). They built and designed this house themselves, together as a family. Every wall and bookshelf and decoration in the house looked like it had been planned and placed with the utmost care and consideration. We played on the top floor of the house, a small attic-style space with slanted ceilings, turned into a cozy hangout with candles and old books and photographs and trinkets everywhere.

The room filled up quickly with friends and family. The first band, Wildebeast, is a group of guys who have been friends with Dinner And A Suit for many years. They were incredible and could easily tour and sell albums and get recognition for their music, but they have yet to even record their songs. I played second and was welcomed with kind applause and encouragement from a packed, tiny room. I was happy to see a few familiar faces who had driven an hour to see the show, making me feel like I too had family in the room. Dinner And A Suit played last and put on a beautiful performance while their proud parents sang along in the back, eyes closed, moved by the music. The ambience, the warmth in the attic with the occasional cold breeze coming through the open windows, the soft light from the candles, and the general feeling of love and camaraderie made the whole thing feel like a dream.

Today we hit the road again, and needless to say I was very sad to say goodbye to this place! I am so grateful to the Beretta family for opening their home to me, and to the Capeci and Genca families for their kindness. It’s easy to see where Dinner And A Suit get their creative, gentle spirits from.

Sometimes I feel like a lone sailor, constantly drifting in a ramshackle vessel that I fashioned together out of scraps, to the best of my ability given the tools I could find. Occasionally I come across a harbor filled with beautiful ships, and a marina where I am welcomed in for a warm meal and a soft bed. I can never stay as long as I would like, but while I’m there I get a glimpse of what life on solid ground could be like, and I leave with new ideas for how to build a better boat.

01.25.12 : The Science Experiment

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if something is working or not. With things like computers and cars, it’s quite obvious when something is broken, and it’s quite obvious whether or not what you’re doing to make it work is, in fact, working. But when it comes to something as subjective as writing and recording your own music and touring to make a living, it can be very difficult to figure out whether or not what you’re doing to make it work is, in fact, working.

A tour can be successful because you’ve managed to book a show for every date and have no days off. A tour can be successful because you have a couch to sleep on for free every night, and you never have to pay for food. A tour can be successful because you brought ticket-buying friends and fans out to the show in every city. A tour can be successful because you met some great bands who share your values and want to play shows again with you in the future. A tour can be successful because you left a good impression on the promoter and venue staff at every show. A tour can be successful because you made enough money each night to pay for gas and expenses, and managed to come home with a little bit of money in your pocket. A tour can be successful because you put on the best show you possibly could, every night, and your music affected people and earned new fans in every city. A tour can be successful because you are reminded each night of why you love to play music, why you feel the need to share your music with other people, and why you are okay with the sacrifices you have made in order to live your life in a way that allows you to do so. Ideally, your tour will achieve all of these things.

When I go on tour, I’m constantly trying to determine if what the tour is offering at each show is worth the time, energy, and money that ticket-buyers, promoters, venues, and other bands have put into making that show happen. I ask everyone what they think about the show, the bands on the bill, the venue, ticket price, promotion, and performances. I somehow combine everyone’s feedback with my own thoughts and feelings about the show, and then I check that against the excel grid I have on my computer with a running total of expenses vs. revenue. It’s like one big science experiment.

I can’t say that I know for sure whether or not what I’m doing to make G,NA work is, in fact, working. And I won’t know in what way(s) the tour was successful until I get back home. But so far, according to my scientific calculations, I can honestly say that this tour with Dinner And A Suit offers more value than any tour I’ve done so far as Gardening, Not Architecture. I’m proud of the tour as a whole, from the quality of music and performance to the quality of the human beings who are on the tour. The bands, promoters and venues have all been amazing to work with, and the people who have come out to support us are proof that something in what we are doing must be good — because only something good could attract such high-quality individuals.

Thank you to Richmond: The Camel, Breton, Nathan, Tribe Of Soul, Emma, Brett, James, Jason, and all our new friends there.

Thank you to Baltimore: Ottobar, Craig, Cindy, Rob, MusicBox Productions, Boy In The Well,  Survival Society, The Baby Grand, Ben, and all our new friends there.

Thank you to the Beretta family.

Thank you to Rockville Centre: The Vibe Lounge, Anthony, Dan, Travis, Sean, Club Loaded, Signal For Pilot, Family Lumber, Liars Etc, Giovanni, and all our new friends there.

Thank you to Alex Mohler.

And of course, thank you to Adam Kreeft of Kreeft Booking.

All of you have helped us get to Danbury, CT, today with gas in the tank and food in our bellies, and the feeling that there is a good reason for us to be doing what we’re doing!

Love,
Sarah

01.22.12 : Back on the road…

Tonight is the first show of my tour with Dinner And A Suit, a band from Nashville (originally from Philadelphia) whom I met on the 2010 Vans Warped Tour. They are a great group of guys, and solid musicians to boot. I love their music and I can’t wait to hear their songs every night for the next couple weeks! They’ll be helping me pull off my live set each night, as well. I can’t tell you how good it feels to be playing with a full band again.

I put the last of my money in the gas tank today somewhere near Roanoke, VA. Depending on how things go in the next two weeks, this may be my last G,NA tour for a while. However, it will definitely not be my last time playing with a full band; after this past week of rehearsals, I’ve realized how much I want (and need) to add live players to G,NA’s live show. So, regardless of how long I stay off the road, I will definitely be focusing on putting together a band somewhere in the southeast, and I’ll be playing locally and regionally until I can afford to get back out on a longer tour.

I’m so grateful to DAAS for doing this tour with me. I see great things for them in the future, and I’m honored that I get to tour with them at this early stage in their career. Check out their music on Facebook!

Their full-time drummer, JD, couldn’t do the tour with us because of school, but luckily the drummer who did DAAS’s last tour with them was available for this run, and he’s been killing it on my songs this past week. He’s currently listening to the songs in the back seat in preparation for tonight’s show. Meet Jeremiah:

More updates to come from the road this time around, for sure. There’s a lot of stuff on my mind.

Come to a show if you can: facebook.com/gnadaas

Love,
Sarah