Aug. 29, 2003
Armchair Reviews

Hey, remember when I talked a few months ago about Matthew doing rope tricks? And about how hard it was to imagine it without actually seeing it because Matthew is so tall? Well, Allison got an amazing picture of it! Here it is.

Do you ever have one of those days where you're so anxious to leave work that the clock seems to actually run backwards? Today is one of those days, even though I have nothing more exciting planned than garden-variety weekly date night with the boyfriend (dinner and then a DVD rental). It is exciting, though, actually. We see each other more and more often, but the more someone becomes a regular part of your life, the less you actually get to spend time with them, you know? It's like, he's always around, but it's rare that I get to focus on just hanging out with him without having to run errands or do household tasks or make phone calls or whatever the hell. Date night is set aside purely for fun activities, and cell phones are not allowed. That was my rule. His cell phone rings constantly, and I got tired of having the same conversation over and over, like so:

Derik: Now, who is that? I don't recognize that number. I'm not going to answer it.

(Phone continues to ring.)

Derik: Do you recognize the 828 area code?

Me: It's Asheville, I think.

Derik: Well, I don't know anyone in Asheville. I guess it's a sales call.

(Phone stops ringing.)

Derik: So, what do you want to...

(Phone beeps)

Derik: New messages! What the? Hmmm. Who do I know in Asheville? Who could it be? Oh, well, I'll worry about it later.

Me: Yeah, it'll probably keep for one night.

(Pause)

Derik: You know, now that I think about it, I have a cousin in Asheville. Maybe it's her. She told me about this booking agent who might be interested in my band, a long time ago. Maybe she's calling about that. But, you know, she could just be calling to say hi.

Me: Derik, just check the message if you want to check it. It's no big deal.

Derik: No, no, it's OK. It's probably nothing. I'll check it later. This is date night, and I want to focus on you!

Me: Awwww! Thanks, sweetie. So, where do you want to eat?

(Phone rings again.)

Derik: I don't recognize...

Me: OH MY GOD, WILL YOU JUST ANSWER THE PHONE???

Anyway. It was clear to me that the cell phones had to be banned if we were ever going to have a proper evening out. There are some things I like about cell phones, but I really hate the idea of being available all the time. When it comes to phone calls, I like to have two settings: "home" and "not home". Derik, on the other hand, has a loving relationship with his cell phone that I feel borders on unhealthy, though he disagrees.

So, you know how everyone thinks they're experts on everything, even when it's something they know nothing about? I'm no different. And I was realizing that, even though I always tell you what I'm listening to, I rarely tell you why or how you can find the amazing albums that I love. So, this month, I am going to pay tribute to everything I am really loving right now. And tell you a couple of things to stay away from. I'm going to play Armchair Reviewer! Here goes:

1. Nickel Creek. I love this band. I got their second album (This Side) first and played it over and over again. A lot of the reviews I read said that it wasn't as good as the first album, that it seemed more like a quirky side project, and that the trio should stick closer to their bluegrass roots. But I didn't have the first album, and besides, I'm exactly the kind of music fan who wants to hear a modern bluegrass band's take on a Pavement song. It was the covers that got me at first; then, the more I listened, the more I started to really love their originals. It got to the point where I had to take out the booklet and read all the lyrics (always a sign of true love), and, as far as I'm concerned, songs like "Green and Grey" and "This Side" put Chris Thile and Sean Watkins right up there with my favorite singer/songwriters working right now.

The first album, which I finally acquired, is just as good. It is, in fact, more traditional, with more instrumentals and more arrangements of traditional songs. (It's where I first fell in love with "The Fox," even before I heard Three Quarter Ale do it.) Even the originals on the first album sound more like traditional folk music, including "I Am a Lighthouse" and a beautiful setting of an old Robert Burns poem. Both albums were produced by Alison Krauss (instant coolness factor), and both are great, solid records.

Of course, when they headlined at On the Bricks downtown at the beginning of August for a measly $3, I had to check it out, and all I can say is, if you get the chance, go to a Nickel Creek show! You won't be sorry. They are so young and full of energy, and they just love to play. It's evident all the way through. They play everything at a furious clip, which is my only complaint (perhaps they'll mellow with age?), but the energy and the commitment with which they play is truly inspiring to me. They wanted to come back for an encore (and the crowd definitely wanted them to), but there is a curfew on outdoor concerts, so they couldn't come back out onto the stage. So, rather than just getting back in their bus, they exited stage left and played literally unplugged for a rapt, seated audience of fans who weren't ready to go home yet. They played pretty much every song I'd wanted to hear that night that hadn't already been played, and you could hear a pin drop during the songs, followed by very quiet and well-mannered requests from the audience. It was really amazing. And the thing is, the audience wasn't the old fogeys I expected would like Nickel Creek. It was mostly kids in their teens and early 20s; I was older than most of the people there. They were excited, but they were so quiet and respectful. When it was really, truly time for them to go, Sara Watkins closed the night with an a cappella rendition of the hymn "Be Thou My Vision." And as she sang it, the audience started to sing along, very quietly. It gave me goose bumps. It's so rare anymore to have that kind of intimate, communal experience at a concert, and I certainly didn't expect it at an outdoor concert attended by thousands of young people. It was a beautiful moment, one I think I will always remember.

It was also one of the many moments lately that have made me feel old. I realized that night that I have completely lost touch with the younger generation, that I am now so far removed from them that I have come to belive, without even realizing it, the media lies that tell me teenagers are at risk, that they only care about sex and drugs, that they are far more shallow, sexual, careless, and thrill-seeking than the teenagers I knew when I myself was one. It's the same old, tired line that society keeps on feeding everyone, generation after generation, that says that teenagers are a different species. They don't look like us, they don't listen to the same music, they're dangerous, they must be saved from themselves. They are scary aliens that will someday, magically, become human beings. So I sat on the grass in Centennial Park, thinking, Who are these teenagers who listen to Nickel Creek and know the words to hymns? There are so many of them! Where did they come from? They don't look anything like the teenagers on T.V.

2. Whale Rider. I loved this movie more than I've loved any movie in a really long time. I saw it in the theatre right at a time when I was feeling stressed and muddled, and this movie gave me exactly the spiritual nourishment I needed. If that sounds hippie-dippie, well, I'm sorry. All of the ways I can think of to describe this movie sound like that: "A young girl's spiritual awakening" or "a meditation on our unbreakable bond with nature" or "a portrait of a modern tribal people, life, struggling to maintain their traditions in the face of progress." All I know is, I left that movie feeling more peaceful, more powerful, and more optimistic about the inherent goodness of the earth and the people on it than I have in a long time. One of the reviews I read criticized this movie for getting bogged down in "girl power" politics, but I don't think that's a fair criticism. I was surprised, actually, at how few fist-pumping, "you go, girl" moments there were. The heroine of the movie gives a speech to her community at one point, and instead of saying, "Girls should be allowed to lead," which is what I expected her to say, she says, "One leader is not enough. We should be all leaders. All strong." That's an important distinction, I think. I've been working on a song based on this movie, but it keeps turning out cheesy. I think I'm only working on it because I don't want the movie to leave my head; I loved it so much.

3. Erin McKeown's new album, Grand. I know I give props to Erin all the time because I know her and because I'm so proud to know someone who's gone so far with this singer/songwriter thing. Because I know how much work it really is to actually get as far as she's gotten, I am always impressed when I hear her news. But when I recommend this album, I honestly recommend it with no thought of promoting a friend. This record is absolutely the best she's ever recorded, and I absolutely love it. It's got more pop and rock in it than the previous releases but still has some of her trademark swing sound, too. My favorite song is the rocker "Close-Up," and there's a Judy Garland theme running through the whole record, which I think is really cool. If you go to the web site and click on Grand, you can read her thoughts on the various songs and what they meant to her, how they were recorded, etc., which is what made me not able to wait another second before ordering the album online. I totally plan to steal that idea for my site when my new album comes out.

4. Paul Melançon. OK, I still don't have his new album, Camera Obscura. But I swear I'm going to get it as soon as I get some extra cash. Paul's a local artist, and I've seen him live exactly twice. Both times, I was amazed by his voice. It's one of those gorgeous natural tenor voices that can just do anything he wants it to do. He negotiates his break with no problem, he soars into a super-high falsetto seemingly with no effort at all, and the second time I saw him, he had a terrible cold and still sounded amazing! (You non-singers are going, "Huh?" but you voice majors totally know what I'm talking about.) That would be enough in itself, but to top that off, he writes really good pop songs, too. Camera Obscura is his first release on Daemon Records (owned by Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls). I can't wait to get it!

5. Dar Williams's most recent album, The Beauty of the Rain. Dar Williams will always be one of my favorite songwriters, but I have to say, I'm disappointed in this album. I'm not sure what's happened to her style. She used to write these songs that were really intense, with so many words that they almost didn't fit inside her melodies and with so many ideas that you could listen to a song over and over and get something new out of it each time. Songs like "The Blessings" or "The Ocean" from Mortal City (by far my favorite Dar Williams album) fill me with such waves of thought and emotion that I laugh or cry almost every time I listen to them. Now, it seems like she's taken one of those classes called "How to Write a Hit Song" in Nashville where they tell you to repeat the title a lot and to keep it simple and to leave lots of musical space in between lines. It's not a bad style - almost everyone uses it - but it's just not Dar. At least, it's not the Dar I love. I'm not sure where she's going, and I'll keep buying her albums for as long as it takes for her to get there, but I've tried at least six times to love this album, and I'm just not feeling it. I certainly don't hate it, though, so let's keep things in perspective by reviewing the work of a major label artist whose work I used to admire...

6. Liz Phair's new album, Liz Phair. So, the first single sucks, a lot. And the fact that she is feeling so uncreative these days that she couldn't even come up with a title for her album says a lot. And there was this backlash against her in the media for selling out and trying to be a pop star. But then Entertainment Weekly wrote, "Let's start a backlash against the backlash! We've heard the album, and it's great." So I borrowed it from a friend and listened to the whole thing, and I can tell you with total confidence that it really sucks. Really. There is exactly one great song on the album, and it's called "Little Digger." All of the other songs contain trademark Liz Phair lyrics about sex, only they're arranged into these fluffy, poppy confections that leave your brain a second after you've heard them. Her explicit lyrics were so provocative on her first couple of albums because of the way the songs were arranged - dark and moody and unpredictable. She seemed like a grown woman who was in control of her own sexuality (albeit a bit messed up in the head) who refused to let anyone else define her. Now that her music sounds exactly like the music of Avril Levigne (thanks to pop songwriting and producing team The Matrix), she sounds like another brainless pop starlet who sings about sex without having the slightest idea what she's talking about. A song comparing her lover to her favorite underwear could have been sexy, but the way it's arranged, it's just laughably stupid. If I heard it on the radio, I'd think, "Is this a joke? Who is this?"

7. Nestle Toll House ice cream sandwiches. They cost $2.14, retail price (I can't find them in the grocery store, only at gas stations and small convenience stores). They are 11 points on the Weight Watchers program (I only get 25 a day). They are absolute heaven.

8. Miss Manners. I used to love to read Judith Martin's column in the Sunday Washington Post when I was a kid, but I stopped reading the paper somewhere along the way. I love all kinds of advice columns, though, and sometimes I'll read archives of old columns on the internet when things are slow at work. Recently, I searched for Miss Manners and came up with a treasure trove of archives, both from The Washington Post and from msn.com. I read about a year's worth of columns and remembered how much I love Miss Manners. She's so correct, yet so sassy! No wonder everyone who writes in desperately wants her to agree with their position. No one can say anything to you if Miss Manners is on your side!

So, there you have it: my loves and hates of the moment. Enlightening, no? No? Well, OK. But I hope you do check out Nickel Creek and Whale Rider, at the very least....

Apparently, I'm just missing all the good family reunions lately. My Uncle Johnny (actually my mother's cousin) recently had people over to spend the afternoon at his pool in southern Maryland, and as the afternoon wore on, the conversation turned to memories of the Abracadabra Club.

Now, the Abracadabra Club is something I can't tell you everything about. Parts of it are secret. I cannot, for example, reveal to you the password that identifies us as members. I cannot reveal the words of our ceremonies or name any of the magic objects that have significance to us. But here's what I can tell you: the Abracadabra Club was started by my grandfather, Donda, a very long time ago, when my parents were children. The purpose of this secret club, as far as I knew when I was a child, was to eat a lot of candy and feel special for being a member of a secret club. Looking back, of course, it is more clear to me that the purpose of the Abracadabra Club was to convince the children of the family to do menial household tasks while their parents were on vacation. At the Abracadabra Club, candy was given out as prizes for categories such as Helpfulness and Bravery. Now, I don't remember it being very difficult to earn a prize in any category, but my mother tells me that Donda had gone a little soft by the time I was old enough to become a member. In her day, she attests to all of the Fletcher children busily sweeping the floor, making their beds, and washing the dishes in the hopes of earning prizes at the Abracadabra Club. Sheer genius, I realize now, even more than I realized then. I wish I could tell you how magisterial my grandfather looked in his regalia, but that would require me to tell you of that regalia and to reveal some of the secrets of the Abracadabra Club, which I cannot do. I'm sure you understand. You will just have to trust me when I tell you that the Abracadabra Club was the coolest thing ever, and that it was all the more special because it only happened in the summer time, at the house in Tall Timbers, MD that my grandfather helped build when he himself was a child.

Now that I've told you about the club, I'm sure you can imagine how fond are our memories of it, we children of the Fletchers, and how much pride we still take in our membership. During the course of the conversation, my pre-teen cousin, Casey (actually, she's - ready? - my mother's cousin's daughter, so I think that makes her my second cousin once removed), said that she had always wanted to be a member of the Abracadabra Club because it sounded like so much fun. Then the adults who had never been inducted (spouses, friends of family members) started to chime in with, "Yeah! We want to be members of the Abracadabra Club!" At that point, a meeting was called. The time and location were set for Stoney's Restaurant on Solomon's Island the following Tuesday afternoon.

The meeting, according to Mom, was a who's who of living members of the Abracadabra Club. From the eldest generation came my grandmother (Donda's wife), Uncle George (Donda's brother), Aunt Beverly (Uncle George's wife), and Uncle Richard (also Donda's brother). From my mother's generation came Mom (daugher of Donda), Uncle Paul (son of Donda and therefore acting Potentate), Aunt Mary (Uncle Paul's wife), Uncle Johnny (son of another Fletcher brother, Uncle Jack, who is no longer with us), Aunt Susan (Johnny's sister), Uncle Steve (son of Uncle Richard), Uncle Wilson (husband of Betty, who is the daughter of Uncle Richard and who is also no longer with us), Aunt Ginsie (daughter of Donda's sister, Betty, whom I never knew), Uncle Clarke (son of Uncle Billy, another Fletcher brother who is no longer with us), and Uncle Rob (son of another Fletcher brother, Robert Lindsay Fletcher, after whom I was named). My generation was represented by my cousin Lynn (Paul and Mary's daughter) and my cousin Andrew (son of Uncle Rob, so actually my second cousin once... oh, forget it). The inductees were Phyllis (wife of Uncle Steve), Casey (daughter of Phyllis and Steve), Barbara (life partner of Aunt Susan), and Priscilla (friend and traveling companion of Aunt Ginsie, whose arrival into town inspired Uncle Johnny's pool party and started this whole thing). My mother says she has the feeling she's forgetting some people, and she says that Uncle Rob and Andrew had to leave right after lunch and missed the meeting, but that's most of the people who were there. For those of you who dread running into people who are working on their family trees and who have all the fancy software and who insist on talking about their family histories at length, I do apologize for this whole paragraph.

My mother told me the whole, hilarious story of this meeting and everything that occurred there (including Uncle Paul asking, at the start of the meeting, whether there was "any old business"), and I wish I could relay it to you. I wish I could tell you every detail. It would make me feel even more as though I'd been there, as I so wish I had been.

But meetings of the Abracadabra Club are secret. I'm sorry.

Donda never denied admission to the Abracadabra Club to anyone who truly wished to join, and we always had stray friends and neighbor kids at our meetings. Some were inducted and never came again; some came many times over the years. The meetings are secret, but I don't think we can fairly be called exclusive. So, if you want to become a member of the Abracadabra Club - if you want to join our family for a little while - let me know the next time you're going to be in southern Maryland, and I'll call my Uncle Paul.

What’s in my stereo at home: