Hadestown

Okay, last weekend I did one of the coolest things I've ever done. I performed the role of one of the three fates in Anais Mitchell's "Hadestown". Anais is one of the best singer-songwriters working today. She is a stunningly poetic, honest, intricate lyricist, and sings with fierce emotion and perfect intonation.

Over the past few years, Anais wrote a set of songs based on the Orpheus myth. In the original myth, Eurydice, Orpheus' lover, gets bitten by a snake and taken to the underworld. Orpheus, being a musician, sings so beautifully and mournfully that the gods take pity on him and let him go to Hades to try and rescue her. Hades tells Orpheus that he can bring Eurydice back, as long as he walks out of Hades with her following behind, and doesn't look back to see if she's there. Orpheus fails, and Eurydice is gone forever.

In Anais' adaptation, Hadestown is a "post-apocalyptic American depression-era company town", ruled by Hades, who is basically a greedy CEO/dictator. Above ground, America lives in abject poverty, and below ground, Hadestown has a mine and a wall to build. It is ugly and sad, but there is work. Orpheus and Eurydice are living in poverty, and Hades convinces Eurydice to join him in Hadestown, so that she will have work and won't starve. Orpheus later goes to rescue her, and fails.

Meanwhile, we are entertained by multiple peripheral characters. Persephone, Hades' wife, runs a speakeasy in the underworld that sells above-ground luxuries to the sad, sunlight-deprived populace ("I got the wind right here in a jar, I got the rain on tap at the bar..."). Hermes is a fly-by-night hobo, who counsels Orpheus on how to sneak into Hadestown to rescue Eurydice "the river Styx is high and wide, with cinder bricks and razor wire, walls of iron and concrete, and hound dogs howlin' round the gate". The fates are a trio of yes-women, who represent the status quo, first talking Eurydice into abandoning Orpheus to find work in Hadestown ("You can have your principles/when you've got a bellyful/but hunger has a way with you/there's no telling what you're gonna do, when the chips are down."), and later talk Orpheus into leaving her there ("Why the struggle, why the strain? Why make trouble, why makes scenes? Why go against the grain? Why swim upstream?)

All told, it's an impeccably written set of songs, and a beautiful adaptation of a timeless, heartbreaking story. As she did in Vermont, New York, Massachusetts, Glasgow, London and California before, Anais brought together a group of musicians from the region (previously unknown to one another), had them learn their respective parts, and put on a set of shows, performing the opera from start to finish.


Anais, Jesse and Paul rehearsing, on the day of the first show (the first time any of us sang together!)

This is an unprecedented idea, to my knowledge, and it was outstandingly fun.

Devon Sproule and Paul Curreri, two of my other favorite songwriters, played the parts of the lovers. Anais herself took on the role of Persephone. Louis Ledford, originally from Richmond, played an absolutely chilling Hades. Jesse Elliot, lead singer of the asskicking band These United States, played Hermes. Myself and two lovely singer/songwriters from central VA, Jackie Stem and Carleigh Nesbit, played the three fates. We were backed up by a great band, led by Michael Chorney.


The fates, being... fately.

While we weren't performing, we hung out with each other, played songs, drank wine, and sat in a hot tub under the stars, in Luray VA, singing gospel songs in rounds. It was lovely, and it left me nostalgic.


Devon and Paul falling asleep following aforementioned wine and singing.

If Hadestown ever comes through your state: take a half day, drop the kids off with Grandma, and bring everybody you know.

r&r

I haven't blogged since I was driving west from Iowa, and now I'm back in Philadelphia, sitting in my favorite chair, reminiscing and recovering from a whirlwind month. Here are a few highlights.


The mesmerizing, breathtaking, awe-inspiring beauty of the American west. Utah, Wyoming, California, Arizona, New Mexico. I'd seen pictures, but I hadn't fathomed the greatness or the gorgeousness. What an absolute privilege.


The kindness of strangers. This guy, for instance, is a retired cop in Vancouver, BC. He spends his mornings pouring coffee for strangers, for free, in a place that serves $3 breakfast. They call him "The Cofficer".


The goodness (musical and personal) of the crowd I run with. WOW! I just can't believe my luck, most of the time. The west coast tour included nine shows with the Wood Brothers, and like always, I was floored by their talent, their kindness, their humor, and their sweet little hearts. A few of their crowd (Christian, John Medeski, and two of my dearest friends) are pictured above eating raw oysters, straight from the ocean, in Marshall, California, on the sunniest, warmest, gorgeousest February day in history.


New Orleans. I'm not sure how to describe my feelings about this place, but let me attempt. New Orleans is steeped in my favorite kind of magic: mournful, musical, dirty, hedonist magic. Billie Holiday magic, nightmare magic, voodoo and Carson McCullers and Jenkins Orphanage Band magic. It's a city on the edge of an abyss, ready at any moment to be dumped into the sea. Yet it's just vibrating with beauty, delicious food, heartbreakingly excellent music, and strange, sad, joyful people. The fictional quality of the city is so palpable, it's hard not to look for the man behind the curtain: oblivion hissing as the gate, and everybody dancing, singing, eating their way merrily towards it.

I want to live there, I want to die there, I want a small apartment there to write in on the off months. Who's in?

what got me through 34 hours of driving

1) The Promise (audiobook by Jonathan Alter)

The one and only time I've used my mailing list for political purposes was before the 2008 election, when I described why I would be voting for Barack Obama. Well, here's an admission: I feel even more enthusiastic about the president now than I did then. This book brought it home by describing the first-year accomplishments of the Obama white house, many of which which were conspicuously absent from media coverage (for more information, go here). Bonus: I now feel sufficiently well-informed about the Obama presidency to discuss my feelings with any and all of you. If you're one of the 47% of voters who disapprove of Obama's job performance, send me an email or post a comment for some friendly debate.

2) F&!$ You (by Cee Lo Green)

I'd like to say that the entire album, "Lady Killer", got me through the drive, but honestly, it was just this song. I played it loud every time I pulled out of a midwestern town or saw a particularly gorgeous sunset. Holy $@#%, this is a fantastic piece of music.

3) Hadestown (by Anais Mitchell)

Anais Mitchell is one of the best singer/songwriters working today. I've known this, unequivocally, since the release of The Brightness, in 2007. But with Hadestown, Anais has tackled a new and daunting task. She composed a "folk opera" based on the Orpheus myth, cast folk- and indie-giants Ani DiFranco (Persephone), Greg Brown (Hades) and Bon Iver (Orpheus), and recorded this breathtaking marriage of poetry, myth, and music. I can't recommend it highly enough.

In case I wasn't already a bumbling superfan, Anais recently asked me to perform the part of one of the Fates in the "Virginia Sings Hadestown" run of the show in February. I'll be singing with Anais, Devon Sproule, Paul Curreri and the whole crew, in Norfolk, Charlottesville and DC, giddy and squealing at the chance. Go here for information and tickets.

8 albums that changed everything

Driving across the country gives me lots of time to listen to music, and to think (two of my favorite activities). I have a feeling this won't be the last contemplative post born of a drive across a midwestern state.

The following albums changed everything. Not necessarily everything in the world, but certainly the world in my head. I'm not saying they're the best albums, or even my favorite (although I heartily recommend you buy all of them, if you haven't yet), but when I heard them they thoroughly rearranged my relationship to music. Thus, everything.

1) Bonnie Raitt - Nick of Time

This is the first album I can remember learning all the words to. I also remember getting up early in the morning, hearing it playing in the living room, and running downstairs and dancing to it. I don't know how old I was at the time, but young enough that the phrase "don't want a man with a monkey on his back" was taken literally.

2) Patty Griffin - Living with Ghosts

This is the first album I remember that made me cry. I was 11 or 12, and the song "Poor Man's House", which I still think is one of the best songs ever written, really hit me in the guts. I also learned to play every one of these songs on guitar, which was another first.

3) Ani DiFranco - Out of Range

I heard this album on college radio soon after it came out. I was 11, and I hadn't yet purchased an album with my own money. I happened to be on the way to the mall with my mom at the time, and I went into a record store and bought this, 'Relish', and 'Tuesday Night Music Club' on cassette. This album was my first conscious encounter with playful, nontraditional lyrics, really biting humor, and lyrical wit.

4) Billie Holiday - Priceless Jazz Collection

My Grandpa bought me this CD when I was 14. I had never heard Billie Holiday before. I remember sitting in my room and listening to "Good Morning Heartache", and thinking I had never heard someone sound so sad. That was the beginning of my Billie Holiday obsession, which has yet to end.

5) Radiohead - OK Computer

My first love turned me onto this record, and I remember listening to it for the first time, alone in my bedroom. I remember the opening chords to "Airbag" as vividly as any opening chords. I also remember lying on the floor, hearing the first refrain to "Exit Music" ("Breathe/keep breathing"), and having tears just stream out of my eyes. Said first love and I would lie together for hours listening to this, Amnesiac and Kid A over and over, not talking or touching. Just listening and longing.

6) Paul Simon - Rhythm of the Saints

I heard this record for the first time when I was 16, on my first tour (as a backup singer in a funk band). I was lying in the back of the van, half asleep, somewhere in Nevada. Someone put this record on, and I remember sitting up and saying, "Who IS THIS?!" I was incredulous that my parents had failed to introduce me to Paul Simon **Editor's note: they DID actually introduce me to Paul Simon, but I was too young to remember. Thanks, Mom, for the clarification.** I listened to it obsessively for the rest of the tour, and I remember it as my first encounter with music in odd time signatures, and songwriting that used complex rhythms as a device. I wrote my first (and only) song in a weird time signature ('Time', which is in 7/8) during this period.

7) Elvis Costello - This Year's Model

My ex boyfriend introduced me to this record, and I am still grateful to him for it. I'm pretty sure this was the first rock and roll album I really loved. I was probably 18 when I got into it, and I remember rocking out to it in my bedroom before going to work at the dog grooming salon.

8) Aretha Franklin - Lady Soul

Okay, I just got into this album last year. I am using it to represent my R&B, motown and soul phase, which has certainly left a deep impression. This record is a prime example of what draws me to the whole genre: simple songs, soul-crushingly groovy bass lines, vocals so sexy they hurt a little. This genre was my first introduction to the concept of arranging songs in such a way that every instrument, at every point, is playing something catchy and melodic and soulful. There is no down time on this record.

the plan

For those who wondered, here it is.

1) Get car pimped out. Tires, brakes, whole enchilada. (DONE.)

2) Buy a crapload of non-perishable Trader Joe's snack food. (DONE.)

3) Drive to Seattle to pick up Joe (via Boston, Cleveland, Des Moines, and Eugene.) (DOING.)

4) Hop on Wood Brothers tour in Vancouver.

5) Play nine shows on said tour (Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, Eugene, Petlauma, San Francisco, Visalia, LA, San Diego).

6) Drop off Joe/pick up best bud (Kerry) in LA.

7) Drive back to Philadelphia via Albuquerque, Austin, New Orleans, and Knoxville.

Travel suggestions (places to eat/stay, stuff to see) welcome!

if time machines are invented...

My most recent Facebook-status-music-question was "What's the best live show you've ever seen?", and it's received a whopping forty-four responses so far. This leads me to believe that my cyber-friends are interested in live music. In case I've inferred correctly, consider the following.

If time machines are invented within my lifetime and made safe and affordable for recreational use, I plan to attend the following shows (immediately after assassinating Hitler):

Ray Charles - Shrine Civic Auditorium - Los Angeles, CA - 1964


This is my favorite live recording of anything, ever. The final refrain just sews it up, wherein he can't even bring himself to say "Makin' Whoopee", because it's just so damned obvious to everyone what's been going with Ray, ever since he played his first gorgeous, evil sounding, sick-with-lust chord progression, sending every woman from miles around zombie-stumbling to his doorstep like so many rats after the pied piper. This peformance is just maddeningly, sickeningly, devilishly sexy.


Ella Fitzgerald - Deutschlandhalle - Berlin - 1960


This may be the most well-known flub-recovery of all time. After the first verse, Ella forgets almost all remaining words to "Mack the Knife", which is doubly cute because at the time it was a monstrously huge hit. Instead of getting all flushed and panicky, she keeps her cool, riffs on the humor of it, cracks up a few times, does some scatting in the style of Louis Armstrong, lampoons herself in a very endearing way, and keeps the crowd laughing and clapping and shouting through the end of the song.

Donny Hathaway - The Troubador - Hollywood, CA - 1972



Mindbogglingly groovy. Honestly, I never loved this song until I heard this version. What strikes me first is the incredible simpatico of this band. The pocket is, as my dear friend Alex Day might say, deeper than the pocket in a big man's overalls. Then there's Donny Hathaway's outstanding intonation and the gorgeousness of his whole vocal range. His low notes are smooth and sad and delicious, his high notes are all open and sweet like Sam Cooke, not a bit edgy.

It's worth noting for all of the above: the albums these tracks came from are all incredible in their own right, and give you a fuller experience of the performance. There is shouting and clapping and solos. I heartily recommend them.

seven songs to be thankful for

Songwriting genius Milton and I once passed an entire day discussing the fact that, when we get right down to it, we can only name a handful of songwriters who we could happily agree to call "masters". They have written a slightly larger handful of "perfect" songs, songs which are musically rich, lyrically airtight, and emotionally true. I wouldn't presume to name every song or writer on this list, but here are a few.

Leonard Cohen - Suzanne


Cohen, of course, has more perfect songs than your average songwriting legend. Hallelujah, Famous Blue Raincoat, Bird on a Wire, or No Way to Say Goodbye could just as easily have made it on this list. Suzanne, though, is my personal favorite. It tells a story of such depth, detail and honesty (at least in the emotional sense), that I think of Suzanne as an estranged, eclectic, tragic aunt, who my family has tried and failed to keep secret.

Paul Simon - Still Crazy After All These Years


This song deliciously and succinctly captures nostalgia, which is not a simple feeling to capture. There is sweetness, elation, longing, and a healthy dose of regret, all seamlessly set to one of the prettiest and most memorable melodies I know. I've told this story before and I'll tell it again: Paul Simon is quoted in "Songwriters on Songwriting" (Zollo) describing the writing of this song. He says he was stepping into the shower when the refrain came to him, and "... I wasn't very happy about it, either. I didn't say 'Oh, that's a good one, that's clever, I can use that.' It was an assessment of where I was at the time, and I wasn't very happy that that was my assessment." I think Paul's feeling of vulnerability and reluctant honesty comes straight through those speakers, and that's part of the magic of this song.

Joni Mitchell - A Case of You


Joni has lots of perfect songs also, Chelsea Morning and Both Sides Now being close contenders for this list. This song, though, is quickly becoming a standard, and for good reason. Among other things, I love the ambiguity; it's ambiguous without being at all confusing. We hear the love and devotion, along with the conflict in the relationship, and what's worse: the conflict of a flighty artist's heart. It's a true and perfect story.

George & Ira Gershwin - Our Love is Here to Stay


Singer/songwriter Peter Mulvey once told me a beautiful story about this song. The Gershwins were not a married couple but brothers, George wrote the music and Ira wrote the lyrics (to dozens of gorgeous jazz songs and musicals, including 'They Can't Take That Away From Me', 'Someone to Watch Over Me', 'Porgy and Bess', and many more). George, Ira's baby brother, died at the age of 40, leaving a final composition behind. That composition was this song, to which Ira penned the lyrics, "It's very clear... our love is here to stay. Not for a year, forever and a day".

Bob Dylan - You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome


What strikes me first about this song, every time, is its sweetness. Who knew Bob could be such a sweetheart? What strikes me next is the simplicity: lines like "when something is not right, it's wrong". Then, the chorus hits, and my heart lifts, too. And again with the simplicity, and the doggone truthiness of it: "I could stay with you forever, and never realize the time".

Patty Griffin - Peter Pan


Patty is one of my personal favorites. The emotional intimacy in her voice, and in her lyrics, is so complete, and so effortless, I feel like I know her feelings better than my own. This song is a gem among gems - how perfectly, and touchingly, she describes the sad inevitability of growing up.

Steve Earle - Tom Ames' Prayer


This is a perfect story song. "Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts" can eat the shorts of this song. Rocky Raccoon wishes he were half as cool as Tom Ames. "He cocked both his pistols, and he spit in the dirt, and he walked out into the street." DAMN!