The Sorrow Estate was covered by a paper in my hometown, Your Clifton Park! You can read it here. One thing I really like about this article is the inclusion of interview questions at the bottom. I know how frustrating it is as a journalist when you have to cut interview answers due to space constraints. I am appreciative that Cady asked such great questions and gave the replies room to breathe. |
0 Comments
Seeing Dustin Kensrue in Indy this summer reignited my passion for his music- particular his solo, folk/rock songs. For the past two months I have sung Blood and Wine every time I picked up a guitar. Every. Single. Time. If I do a show I will play this song. Regardless of the projected reaction of the audience (I often introduce it as "The Song that Wasn't Written by Johnny Cash but Could've Been"). It's a problem.
On my way back to Albany from Indianapolis I played Blood and Wine in a nearly deserted airport. The cathedral-high airport ceiling echoed my voice back to me in holy canon as I hurled the tune at the opposing wall. I finished in a roar, breaking a string and stomping my foot. Only two people were in the terminal. One was a lone McDonald's worker who gave me a standing ovation and then ran out from behind the counter to meet me and hand me a water bottle (I don't know why he did this. I just know that it made us both happy). And the other person, a policeman with a very large German shepherd, ushered me away from the McDonald's worker, escorted me out to the baggage claim area, and asked if I was homeless (to which I responded, "No, officer. just a musician"). Methinks he might not have appreciate the heroin reference in the second verse. Or the gunpoint robbery in the fourth. Count on Dustin Kensrue to get you personally admired and thrown out of a public building in the same night. rocked their hour long set. Playing hits such as This Disorder and Good Old Days, The Features executed their psychedelic, grunge sound with style. The band's foot tapping tunes echoed around the raddest venue in the Capital Region- the Plaza. The Empire State Plaza; which connects the EGG Center for the Performing Arts, the Corning Tower, the New York State Museum, the Capital Building, and several war and emergency service memorials, is decorated by artwork and gardens. Concert go-ers enjoyed not only the sounds of the night, but also the sights. the plaza across the water
It's amazing what we can do nowadays with our fancy technology.
Yesterday, Wednesday July 1st, I lead worship with three other OMS interns at a prayer service. The service was live streamed which allowed OMS missionaries from all over the world join us digitally as we praised and prayed. Our set starts at 9:30 in the video. b&w photographs courtesy of Steven Schultz Photography Good Fiction, the dynamic, alternative rock trio, is taking Upstate New York one venue at a time. From the Fuze Box in Albany to Troy's RPI Union to Upstate Concert Hall of Clifton Park, Good Fiction has spent this season electrifying the Capital Region with their garage rock feel and compelling live act. The band consists of members Patrick Grace (Vocals, Drums), Alex Wollyung (Guitar), and Taylor Abbitt (Bass). Their sets include novel covers of The White Stripes, Alt-J, and Black Keys as well as several satisfying originals (most notably "Bassline", the band's first single, which can be found here). The band's most recent performance occurred at The Hollow + Kitchen where they opened for Mirk. The Venue- The Hollow Despite its numerous competitors on N Pearl Street, The Hollow has become one of Albany's brightest nightlife locations. This versatile spot hosts a bar, restaurant, and music venue (called The Low Beat) as well as modest prices and friendly staff. The wooden front room is accented with black trim, metal signs, and mason jar-ed light bulbs for a modern take on homey ambiance. Beyond the dining and bar sections is a small room coated in black which holds a billiard table, bar, and rugged stage. Colored lights pop on exposed pipelines and play across musician's faces as they perform. Fairy lights strung above the bar soften the night club vibes as bands like Good Fiction command audiences of up to 200 people. The Show- June 13th, 2015 Electric player, Alex Wollyung, impressed with his quick, accurate finger work, string-bending wails, and fondness for the whammy bar. His use of pedals and placement embodied the desired tone and filled the stage with vibrant musical lines. Wollyung played with intense fervor, conquering zig-zaging themes intently and without mistake. Screams erupted from the audience as Wollyung concluded particularly intricate sequences. The complexity of his playing makes you wonder how he manages to take up only the optimal amount of melodic space. Wollyung's playing showcases his abilities while simultaneously complimenting those of his bandmates'. This Spring I studied abroad in Tanzania, Africa. As a part of the program I stayed eight nights in a remote village called Itete with a host family. Though we struggled with language and cultural barriers lasting bonds were formed. By the last day leaving Itete felt like leaving New York. In a way my Elsewhere became anything but that- it became home. This song was written two weeks before my stay and it could not have recorded in a more apt place.
Elsewhere (lyrics) Elsewhere has always been out there But never somewhere I call home But I’ve been tryin’ Been runnin’ and flyin’ To get where I can find a way to go
Let’s get real for a sec. It’s the night after a breakup. You hid under your covers with Room for Squares, Continuum, tissues, Oreos, and a gallon of chocolate ice cream. Alternating between cookies and dairy, modern Mayer and early work, you cried inconsolably and uncontrollably. It’s fine. We’ve all been there at one point, I get it. But just because your relationship is a hopeless mess doesn’t mean your breakup soundtrack has to be.
Lose the Mayer and listen to something varied and refreshingly resonate. Below is a compilation of great breakup songs ranging from pop to grunge, Jack White to Billy Joel (staples of virtually any collection), somber realization to bitter hate to contextualized hope. Next time you’re in tears over a lady or lad give these songs a listen. And remember- There are plenty of fish in the sea, but fish are members of a paraphyletic group of gill-bearing, aquatic, craniate organisms and we are humans. So don’t date fish. That’d be really weird.
[chapter two] The men grunting and growling dance around us in moonlight with intentional ferocity. Eyes like wolves they lung in turn towards us girls and the young ones beside us. All are clothed in shades and patterns of red- geometric blood splatters like the cow they slaughtered that morning when an artery was nicked and a smooth black spine stooped to it. Sluuuuurpp! I heard as he lowered his lips to the spouting fountain. Oh and they drank that sweet juice right down as it flowed out. So here, now, remembering that sound- the men hum-growl and convulse in time with their grunting, in pace with their self-essencing mouth music. Music that should not be notated. They made it. They made it. Now their chests, mostly bare, are one with the damp, dusk air and a solo tenor voice belts out reaching for the moon as the darkling continues. He slides up the pitches and tops out his own sound. All around me are glistening bodies. I feel energy, sense the nervous excitement of my counterparts as we shuffle our feet and shake our shoulders- no Maasai beads crown our pale skin. But the young ones wear them- the harmonic jingle, a perfect feminine addition to the guttural whoops of the men. I inch my way to the soloist and song comes out of me. I sing I feel it tear out of me, ripping through my throat as my imitated song is pulled to his as it assents. we breathe. I feel the ebb and flow of their breath and intention. I sway back and forth unthinkingly, matching their cresting break, dueting myself. Surrendering to the whims, it feels like sweet submission, a vital part no lesser no greater than a highly esteemed guest. In this dance we find lose ourselves. We find ourselves. In this dance we lose each other. We find each other. The shear might of the Maasai shown- the tall, slender men circled around us women. we pulsated to the pleading, prodding movements. A sacred tenor sings for the moon. And in the middle stands a pale creature singing herself to him. |
Archives
November 2015
AuthorLaura Johnson is a junior writing major at Houghton College. Laura writes for The Houghton Star, Mousailink, and One Mission Society. This virtual space is a journal of things that matter to her; tales, musings, wanderings. |