It was the beginning of my art project with Zelda Rising, that is, I'm reading from the start in the allotted time (10 minutes at Eli) then continuing on until the next open mic, wherever. There, I tell the audience where we're at in the reading then continue the project until I'm finished ... then start all over again, or maybe, this time, with my shocking sexistentialist first novel, Private Showings.
The project is similar to a William Burroughs cut-up, in a way. Very much enjoying these open mics, because I get to go into my Da Chicago Guy voice with a touch of Daniel Edward Aykroyd in The Blues Brothers.
I think I got an especially enthusiastic response, you know, but everybody claps for all the performers, so not sure. There was one obnoxious would-be rock star who made a point of plugging in with a wah-wah pedal and singing in a voice that sounded like Kurt Cobain gargling with salt water. But the rest of the performers? All rather entertaining. (But I wasn't wearing my hearing aids, so most of it came out as mush to me.)
I plan to do a different open mic reading Tuesday up at Hop Leaf in the People's Republic of Andersonville, wish me luck.
I'll have to say, I'm slightly disappointed in the overall reaction of the Wax Trax people to my using their former hangout bar, the Crash Palace, as a plot device. Whenever rock and roll hero and museum curator Martin Atkins would mention Zelda Rising, he did so in a sotto voce mutter, without the enthusiasm I had hoped for. Which is kind of sad, considering Wax Trax means a lot to the narrator.
I'm also being suddenly ghosted by Wax Trax contacts in text messages, though that might be because I pointed out that a DVD Martin filmed is now on discount at oldies.com ... five bucks. It's a documentary about how he discovered certain musicians in China back in the day during a visit and I ordered a copy. Hell, maybe he's offering it at the museum for a higher price and they were put off by that.
Or ... when I visited the bar that took its place on North Lincoln, Delilah's, year ago, the bartender told me some bad things involving hard drugs and partying caused the eventual closing of The Crash Palace. That, and I remember reading in the Reader one time that a girl groupie had died tragically in the ranks, and that may have happened at The Crash Palace. Was this part of their reaction?
Well, interesting and potentially tragic, kind of mirrors what happens to Crystine in the novel, but no matter, the book doesn't reference it and just uses Crash Palace as a vehicle for driving the novel. In any event, I plan to visit the Museum of Post Punk and Industrial Music later in June, to see the immortal Chris Connelly talk about his memories of the scene. He sang lead for the Revolting Cocks among others, and gives one of the great screams in Rock History during the song Stainless Steel Providers.
I mean, all in all, the Wax Trax crowd has been very friendly and helpful to my creativity ... just that, they seem distant when it comes to Zelda Rising. Whatever.
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I splurged on an Ortofon Bronze cartridge stylus that was on spring sale at the wonderful Music Direct other day. Mounted it and, lo and behold, my records all started to bloom, with a more expanded soundstage and much greater clarity. Just beautiful to hear music like The Yardbirds Over, Under, Sideways Down and anything Miles Davis, like the quad Bitches Brew I found at the best record store in Chicago ... naturally, at the People's Republic of Andersonville, Rattlesnake Records.
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Both the Cubs and the White Sox are caught in bad losing modes. The White Sox are something like 25 games out of first place in the Central Division and the Cubs have been in a horrible swoon since late May, when the Pirates put it to them at Wrigley. This weekend, it was rivals the St. Louis Cardinals who did them in, taking the three-game series. The White Sox lost 10-2 at Seattle yesterday. Looking forward to a double header on Wednesday, when I see Cubs vs Giants during the day, then White Sox vs. Astros at night. Baseball Bum Nirvana.
Ciao, George
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