Jackson Square

Here in New Orleans down in the Quarter is a square called "Jackson Square". A park of sorts placed in front of a church acros from Cafe Dumont. It is a place where artists,street performers and musicans hang out and sell there stuff. There are several shops, galleries and some very fine resturaunts there as well. One I especially like is Stanley's. I had the best eggs "Stanley" I ever had. Eggs benedict served with deep fried oysters and a sause that was nearly plate licking good. Yesterday I walked around checking the place out from a point of veiw that I may want to do something there. I have never been one to perform on the street. It's really not my scene but having no sucess in finding regular work and recently having sold my first 3 paintings I thought I would look into it. I have begun to think of this as if were a hot dog vendor. Instead of hot dogs I sell cd's music and art. Jackson Square attract a ton of tourists. You can catch a ride on donkey driven carriages that give you a tour of the quarter,you can have a beigent at Cafe Dumont and partake of the world famous muffalta sandwich at the shop where they were invented. You purchase a peddlers licence at citly hall for 175.00 a year. What may make me a bit odd is I'm primarily a musician who has discovered (albeit late in life) a talent for painting. At the square it's either or, rarely both. I have given this some thought. I would have to purchase a battery powered amp,fold up guitar and music stand and a peddle version of the loop station I use at the gallery gig. A loop pedal is ths marvelous device that allows me to play a passage up to 12 minutes long and let it repeat indefinatly. What I do in the solo jazz gigs I play is comp the chord progression of any jazz standard, set the loop and as it plays back I play the melody then solo over the changes. The newer ones come with 30 different drum patterns too so it's like a trio in a box! Getting to the square may be a challenge. We only have one car so the wife takes it to work. I have several painting on unstretched canvas so they can be rolled up. The artists down there hang their art off the fence that surrounds the park,usually on string or bungee chords. I have an old suit case that has wheels that I think is large enough to fit the amp,stands,tip jar and,paintings. I think I can get that, me and my guitar on the street car to get there and have the wife pick me up after work. To do all this is a bit of an out lay of cash I really don't have but the potential to earn some scratch and get a good tan looks good.
I had stumbled onto a gallery that may take in some more of my paintings. When I left I walked down Royal street where it was located and heard this guy playing the clarinet. He was very good. Royal street is where most the musicians hang out and play. I wandered around a bit more checking out some of the art galleries(I found most of the people working there frankly to be stuck up and snooty) as I returned to the square before heading home I noticed the clarinetist had been joined by a tuba player. Big Black fella with a deep rich voice. As I stood there they began to play this very very soul full version of "Just a Closer Walk with Thee"The clairenet slipping and sliding between the melody and counter point. The the Tuba player began to sing...It brought tears of joy to my eyes!...once again this amazing city presented me with a moment,a gift an embrace..As I stood there in momentary worship to God my phone rang..My sister calling from Alaska to see how I was doing. I held up the phone as I put a dollar in the tip jar and shared this moment with her..I am so blessed to be living here.

A Fathers Farewell.

My father passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 85. He was a decorated WW2 hero, master plasterer and the father of 5. How do you sum up the affect that fathers have on you? No parent is perfect. My Dad survived the Great Depression and out lived 12 siblings. What I learned from him in my life has colored nearly everything I've become. What I learned early was the importance of hard work and a committment to excellence. My dad had no patience for shoddy half-assed work regardless of what it was, be it sweeping a floor or building a home. Eric Clapton and I have this comon thread between us. We were both raised by plasterers. I grew up watching my Father walk into a shack and leave a thing of beuty when he was done. He had learned his trade from my Grand father and a string of old school german guys. There was nothing he couldn't do with a hawk and trowl. I took his attitude of excellence,hard work and dependability into my life as a musician. I worked hard at learning my"trade". It has led me down many roads and has been a wonderful life. Choosing that life was no easy task. You give up the white picket fence life for that of a road less traveled. I took a lot of heat from family,friends, girl friends, wives...in the end like my the supreme joy of the work was what sustained me. In the weeks that led up to his passing my two daughters visited him on sepatate occations. At this time Dad was going down hill, not eating much and having trouble remembering things. Yet he told both my daughters how much my music ment to him,how proud of me he was for becomming the musician I was and how even at the start he was always OK with my choice. A wonderful parting gift. Dad had paid a son the greatest compliment once by telling me that I was to the guitar what he had been to his trade..one of the best!. I recall many a time when Dad would ask me to play for him. He'd say "Stevie...Stevie...give us a tune". I'd play and he'd look at whoever was there and go"That's my Boy"..
As I sat next to my Dad's casket with guitar in hand ,feeling deeply emotional to play for him one last time. I reflected on so many times I had done so in my life. As friends and family passed by I quietly played "Misty" for him...one of his favorites. Tears and laughter followed as we all reflected and told stories of this man's life and impact on all. As I left I stood to see him one last time. A man once so full of life,laughter and love now gone to be with God and family..I reached over and placed a guitar pick in the pocket of his suit..a final gift from a son who will always remember..."Stevie..give us a tune" I love you Dad..thank you...

School Daze.

Memories of my year at the Musicians Institute. 1983 in Los Angeles. Hollywood was to put it mildly was a mind blowing experience. I was 28 and newly married with a child on it's way. A struggle to say the least. But here are some of my fondest moments. Daily walking around the school I would hear some of the most amazing guitar playing and see some of the weridest people. There was one guy who I swear spent the whole year in the student lounge,smoking and noodling on his guitar. I never saw him in any class or performance. There was this kid with long greasy hair who had such perfect pitch that he paid his rent learning solos off records for fellow students. There was a guy from Iceland who started playing guitar the same year I was born. As I walked the halls it was hard to stand out amoung so many excellent musicians. It would only be latter that my education there would really help me excell once I returned home to Alaska.
The teachers were an interesting collection as well. My chord melody teacher was from New Orleans which I find odd now that I live here. I recall sitting in class next to these three guys from New York. They were all dressed out in spandex with long hair and these bright colored pointy guitars while Ron the teacher is standing in front of the class with a seven string Benedetto custom made Jazz guitar trying to explain how to play "Misty" solo. The sat there slack jawed with that "Deer in the Headlights"look. We had a teacher named Les Wise who taught the Jazz improve and BeBop classes. Les papered us to death. He would have this table with piles of notes on licks,motifs and all types of improve stuff. I kept it all and 25 years later still look back on some of it now and again. Going to his class was funny cus he approached eat lecture like a science teacher except he stood there with a guitar hanging off him. Our sight reading teacher was this loon who was an ivy league grad. Charlie was one of the funniest guys in school and the best sight reader I ever met. He also taught this class we had on "Music Video Training". This was the dawn of MTV so the school wanted to train us in that medium. We spent a lot of time goofing around in front of a camera and standing in front of the class doing werid exercises that Charlie came up with. The one I share here was one of the funnest and fondest I remember. We were learning how to lip sinc to a series of short music clips(two minutes) One of the clips was the Police "Every little thing she does is magic". There were a dozen or so tunes to pic from.I did something by ZZ Top. A lot of the class picked the Police. Let me tell you how this went down..as each student started doing the song unprompted the other students started getting up and goofing behind the guy lip sycing. As the class moved on more and more students jumped up and when the chorus "Every little thing she does is magic" kicked in the whole class would be dancing behind whoever was singing throwing papers scarves in the air and someone had produced liquid string and was spraying that everywhere. It was such a spontanious out brake of joy that I stood there thanking God for the chance of being there and seeing this.

Festivals for any reason whatsoever and deep fried wondermiss eats!

Things I love about NOLA....you can walk anywhere and drink. And they throw a festival for any reason..a fest equals food,music and fun. Today is the Italian fest and parade. Last week was the Irish parade where they dressed in green and threw cabbage and potatoes at the crowd. next week they are having a Tennesee Williams fest. They have a "STELLA!!!!!" shout off like the movie "Street Car named Desire"....love this town..wish I felt better to get out more. Allison and I had lunch at yet another amazing hole in the wall. Jack Dempsey. Piles of deep fried wondermiss eats. Whoever did the cooking there sure knew his stuff. I had the red fish platter with mac and cheeze. Crisp and crunchy on the outside and dripping juicey inside. Allison had the combo half fried oysters and catfish. Oyster she gave me was to die for,crisp crunchy,and when you bit into it it exploded with briny juice. I am a SLAVE to oysters!!!Been noticing the shrimp at the stores have been comming in really large,fat and pink..yum.

Travels on Trolly

The last two days I had to visit the clinic. I road the trolly. Interesting riding the trolly with the people of NOLA. Lots of poor,black folk. I catch the ride back in front of "40 ouncer" pit stop. Lotta guys standing around drinking out of brown paper bags. Today I sat next to an elder black man who said he was 90 years old. He looked good for his age. These are just the wonderful salt of the earth types who give this city such a vibrant interesting soul. Yesterday I noticed this fella who was dressed all in green. He was an older man with a shaved head,wearing gold rimmed glasses. He was doned with a green derby,light green shirt,green tie, three piece green pinstrip suit with matching green socks and shoes. Striking. Today as I road back from my doctors visit I saw the same guy in the next car. Today he was imcauletly dressed in an off color suit with a marron strips and matching tie,doned by a straw hat. Who is this man? Maybe he's retired and just spends his day showing off his wardrobe on the trolly?...This is such and interesting city.

Why ask Why and Faith vs Fear.

I am married to a very amazing woman. Absolutley the sharpest, smartest woman I've ever known and it is an honor to share a life with her. She challenges me way of thinking all the time,especially on spirtual matters. It is good for me. I wonder at times if believers really know what they believe and why. Just tonight Allison told me she thought early on in my Christain life I had been sold a bill of goods that didn't stand up to reality. It's refreshing having someone say that. She and I couldn't come from backgrounds more different. She grew up in a good normal Christain family..I got saved thru the Jesus people movment and prior to that the only time I ever heard my Dad pray was twice a year. Holidays. There was no religion in my up bringing. So when I stumbled into all this..I knew NOTHING. Except I had had an encounter with Christ that utterly changed everything about me. Allison went to a Methodist church. Just good people trying to serve God and help each other along the way. I got filled with Spirit and wound up smack dab in the middle of the Charismatic movement back then. Frankly as a "Jesus Freak" we all had a bit of mis trust to standard churchhes and frankly many of them didn't really know what to do with long haired ex whatevers to find a place for us. A buddy of mine once said he felt like our generation was a bit lost and not sure where we fit into the big picture. Charimatics preach a lot of stuff. Living in health,wealth and victory every day. I learned a long time ago to stop asking "Why". In my trials I've tried to see things in this light,"What is it here that I can learn and become a better person"I've been divorced twice, Been homeless,broke and near out of my mind with grief over loss. But on the other hand I've had times of wonderful joy and have felt loved and accepted. I guess at my age I spend time looking back taking stock. Seasons. The Bible says to everything there is a season. I believe in my life so much of what I've been thru and learned is a preparation for what God ultimatly has for me to do. I've studied the lives of many successful people. Looking for a common thread. I'm still looking. A very strange thing happened starting in 06. I lost interest in playing music. I still played but somewhere there the joy and passion vanished. It scared me. Music had been a defining factor in my life since I was a kid. It was because of music that I learned so many other things. I really didn't know what to do with myself. So I studied wealth. I read all kinds of books about everything on the subject. Spent hours learning about investing. I studied the rich. What makes them different than us. If there was a common thread is they look at money way different than I do. They started young collecting and working. I have known a few in my life who just seem to have a knack at making money. A tallent I wish I had. I did get this. It is a skill that can be learned. Finally at the end I came to this..I'm a musican, I really am more concerned about the down beat than the bottom line. Allison and I talk sometimes about it. I tell her if we ever won the lottery it would scare the hell out of me. She is always catching me and pointing out how I talk myself out of success. She is good for me.
The Bible says the just shall live by faith. Here is what I have learned about a Christain approach to wealth. It's really not ours. We are simply stewards over what God gives us. We may toil in the field and benefit from it but He is the owner. I've seen to many times where to much success can destroy a life. As with anything not enough causes suffering to much can to. Fear. I've had it snap at my soul my whole life. I have experienced amazing instances of God's provision. All my years in LA there were time after time God provided. Here is one I'll share. I was going thru this horrible divorce. I had lost everything. I was sleeping on my sisters couch in Anchorage at the time. I had come back from Fairbanks after another vain attempt to reconcile with my future ex-wife. Why in the face of all the pain and betrayal she had heaped I couldn't say. But there I was. My brother In-law was busy with his business and my sister was sick at the hospital. I was so broke I had to hitch hike home. To add insult to injury my leather jacket zipper had broke and it was 20 below. I was miserable. My older sister had given me a new Bible and for some reason I had it on me as I stood shivering on the side of the road. I noticed a truck had pulled over so I ran up and jumped in. There was this latino guy who saw my bible and asked if I was a believer(even though at the time I felt like anything but)I said yes. He said he never picks up hitch hikers but God told him to pick me up.(I was thankful cuz I was really cold) So we started talking and I opened up about what I was going thru. This brother whose name I never even got had a Word from God me(for all I knew he could have been an angel in disguise)He said two things..One,that if my wife didn't repent and straighten up in time God would hand pick someone else for me and that He was going to begin as the bible says"Make the Crooked ways Strait" This was like someone throwing a drownding man life saver. I felt God's peace and despite all I was suffering I felt his hand upon my shoulder. The brother even gave me a ride right up to my sisters door. Precious are moments like that. Within a few weeks I returned to Fairbanks and was offered a fulltime possition at the mental health place I had been doing relief work for which gave me the income to rebuild my life. I did finally finish my divorce.The benefits helped pay for 3 years of therapy that helped heal me and in time I met and married this truly amazing woman. Allison my best friend and true soul mate. the Bible says He will never leave us nor forsake us. That day truly proved that to me. God is good. Praise Him...amen

God's People and Me.

I am 54. I have been a "Born Again,Spirit Filled" Christian since the age of 15. I'm pushing 40 years. All my life. At 17 God called my to music. In a very unconventional way. It has been an honor but a trial too. I've played so much music,written so many songs. I've played for Govenors,Senitors and simple folk as well. Saints and sinners. Just about everything in between. It has been difficult in my relationship with God's people to explain what I do,why I'm doing it and the daily struggles I encounter to keep doing it. This "Rock and Roll Cross" I carry at times is light as a feather other times heavy as threshing stone. I think all servents with a call on their lives feel the same way at times. My wife Allison and I share (amoung other things) this thing I call "the loneliness of being different". In all my Christian journey there was only one fellowship I went to that seemed to understand. I was living in LA and we started to attend Pasedena Four Square. The pastor there was someone who made a deep and lasting impression on me. Ralf Torrez. Ralf had been raised up under Jack Hayford of Church on the Way. He was the youth pastor for many year. That period of my life I had been going thru one hard time after another. Of all the pastors I've had he was the only one who understood that our struggles were not for lack of character but rather a season of testing. This was something so basic to the Christain walk that I wondered why it seemed to excape everyone else. It is sad when your brethern make life that much harder by the insults and put downs. Ralf and his church will forever hold a tender place in my soul.
Community. The yearning to be a part of a family. My problem was growing up I had a scewwed perspective on family. During the 70's and early 80's my home church empraced the "Sheparding/Accountability"movement espoused by such bible teachers as Bob Mumford,Don Bashum. I still hold these guys in very high regard. I profitted greatly in my walk from their teaching but the practical day to day application of "being covered" and "accountable"...frankly was just to damn harsh. I remember telling a friend that I felt like going to church was like punching a time card. I think this was the first crack in my relationship to God's people. I began to lose something there. When I first got saved I was in church every time the doors were open. There was such Joy in worshipping God. I was so hungry then for His Word. I loved everybody and everybody loved me. I was young I know,but then it was a special time. It became a point of going to church out of obligation rather than joy. And for a guy like me it got boring. I began to feel like the shoes no longer fit.
When I returned to Alaska after 8 years in LA I came back home a very different person than who had left. I was now a professional musician. I had school,records and a tour under my belt. It was then that I stepped into the life of a working musician. Problem was the hours kept me away from church. I was also mired in a horrible marriage that had been coming apart for years. Between the two I stumbled and stumbled hard. The next thing you know 14 years had gone by. I had maintained many of my relationships with my brethern I just got real skiddish and gun shy when being around to many of them. Here is a case in point. I'm sitting in a church once in LA during a revival. Sitting there minding my own business just as saved as I'd ever been yet here comes some well meaning believer who starts sharing Christ with me..I guess I look like a sinner. What it has been for me all these years is frankly fitting in. I just couldn't relate to the average pew sitting church goer. It's not that I feel in any way shape or form superior. Just different.
I've said all that to say this..I repent. I feel guilty for all those years of not being a productive member of a fellowship. But in a real sence I became a victum of the charismatic movement. Starting with the shame and guilt producing Sheparding movement and ending with my divorce. So maybe I'll take my wives advice..go to a "nice" church..well enough of my rant today..on ward Christian soilders.