Dear extended musical family,
Well, after 20-some-odd years in the music business,
songwriting,
recording,
releasing projects,
touring in the USA and abroad,
performing on radio stations,
the occasional tv show,
on moving trains,
on a ship at sea,
outdoor festivals,
headlining our own Over the Rhine shows,
supporting more well-known artists on the road,
being on and off record labels,
running our own label along the way at various points,
working with publishers and distributors large or small
while all the while remaining fiercely independent of
spirit—
One begins to feel as if one has seen it all.
But if I know only one thing for sure this morning here on Nowhere
Farm:
We have not seen it all.
Take our Friday evening show at Canal Street Tavern a few weeks ago.
Into this storied listening room in Dayton (if you had a good arm you could
throw a baseball into the nearby minor league ball park) we have brought
our suitcases full of songs old and new over the course of much of our
career, to offer them in a space that feels like our living room away from
home.
It’s not a big place, so people arrive early before doors open and
take their place on the sidewalk with their books to read, or a box of
chocolate chip cookies from a favorite recipe to share, and the line grows
down the block, and it feels a bit like vanishing America, people standing
around on a sidewalk trading war stories, laughing, cells vibrating a bit
in the context of a group of human beings leaning together in the same
direction, flesh and blood.
But then shortly after the doors opened two ducks arrived and got in
line. A male and a female mallard…
Allow me to repeat that: TWO DUCKS.
I didn’t see any of this and I didn’t dream any of it – it was reported
to me by multiple witnesses. The female duck seemed to be in charge (?!)
and when doors opened she walked up the steps to enter the venue beckoning
to the somewhat skeptical male to follow. It was as if she wanted
to buy a ticket. She may as well have been smoking a cigarette.
A duck walks into a bar…
Apparently, several concerned concert-goers ran to their cars to retrieve
food for the temporarily earthbound water fowl in case they were hungry.
They were ambivalent, but seemed intent on seeing the show. When no one
provided them with paper tickets, they milled around for awhile, and eventually
left.
I heard multiple accounts of this story because much earlier that day
in the state of New York, our friend Keith had purchased us a celebratory
bottle of wine in anticipation of the unfolding evening. He had asked the
wine shop owner to recommend something good and he had. The wine, a big
California blend, 2007 vintage, of 72% Zinfandel, 18% Cabernet Sauvignon,
9% Merlot and 1% Cabernet Franc is called Paraduxx. The label looks like
a beautiful old postage stamp. It’s printed on uncoated paper and has a
painting of two ducks on it: hooded mergansers to be exact. When Keith
handed us the bottle after the show, the previous story came out (as if
being uncorked) from several bystanders, and was confirmed by the ticket
takers and merch sales people in the entrance of the venue.
Apparently everyone knew about it except me.
If you can help us with any of the symbolism here, please write
to us at: OTRhine@aol.com
(Karin requests photographs, as well, please.)
As a writer, I know there’s something here. But I do not know
what. I would have to write to find out.
No.
We have not seen everything.
I’ve realized often that when it comes to wine, or coffee, or
the occasional enjoyment of a fine cigar (the tobacco thereof grown in
the light of some island sun) I’m drawn to blends. I’d like to think that
the music of Over the Rhine is a blend, different strains of American music
(gospel, country & western, rock & roll, old hymns, scratchy jazz
78’s) being poured together like wine through the ache of a heart to bleed
something beautiful into the veins of the world.
I won’t lie to you. There are certainly moments on the road when exhaustion
sets in.
(We’ve noticed that hotel rooms are increasingly becoming toxic environments
– it seems to be getting worse – rooms designed without the possibility
of opening a window – chemical cleaners – chemicals used to prevent bedbug
breakouts – new carpets off-gassing into a closed system – central air
conditioning units that become moldy – it all takes a toll on a respiratory
system.)
(Flying on an airplane has hit an all-time low in the enjoyment
and comfort department. It used to be kind of special to get on an airplane.
The good news is it has gotten so laughably uncomfortable to travel by
air, that it has to begin improving in the very near future. I think we’ve
hit bottom.)
And there is a lot of uncertainty that goes along with trying to offer
the world something beautiful for a living. I cannot imagine what picking
up a check every two weeks would feel like. In the last 20 years, it has
been all over the map. Truly an adventure, but thank God I married a woman
with a high tolerance for risk. We live life without a safety net. We discover
we are survivors.
But I do have the following spiritual exercise handed to me often.
Whenever I begin to feel that my life is particularly difficult, I can
open the mail.
I can read about the father holding the hand of his son who just
passed away from cancer at 3:30am, thanking us for signing that CD that
they listened to, for the exchange of a few notes. Miraculously, it meant
something, provided some small sacrament of comfort.
I can read about the 19-year-old girl that stumbled into a tent
on a pig farm with friends to discover us playing on a stage after midnight.
How (she continues) she felt something she could not name beckoning her,
19-years-old, pregnant, scared, overwhelmed. How she picked up a CD (Good
Dog Bad Dog) and went home and pointed the speakers at her growing stomach,
over weeks and months and especially played the song The Seahorse to the
unseen baby that she gave up for adoption, and how that song still connects
her to that child. Now she’s in her thirties, and after a journey of counseling
and healing, she’s married and expecting again, and this time she’s going
to keep the baby, and the music is still playing.
And I can hear a voice saying:
You’ve never lost a child
You’ve never been asked to leave loved ones behind and go to
Iraq or Afghanistan armed to the teeth
You’ve never faced a life-threatening illness
You’ve never missed a meal
You’ve never slept in the rain
Etc.
My life is not that hard.
(My sister reminded me, laughing, that actually we did miss a few meals
as kids and did sleep in the rain, but as far as the rain, I think it was
just the one time… I suspect we’ll get into all that someday in our respective
memoirs.)
I picked up Karin yesterday evening at the airport. She had been doing
more recording at The Garfield House in South Pasadena (with friend and
brother Joe Henry). We stopped at a favorite café on the way to
the farm and traded stories and laughed and the wine flowed, and we had
so much to talk about (and laugh about) just being apart a few days that
I was wondering if people thought that we were caught p in some new
romance. I hope we didn’t
turn too many heads.
Life continues to be a mixture of joy and sorrow and laughter and pain
and small victories that offer cause for celebration.
Thank God for music.
+++
We are taking the six-piece band out on the road for a few potentially
unforgettable summer evenings. We are going to swing for the fences. We
are going to put the songs right into your wheelhouse. Drink some sweet
tea. (Ducks optional.)
We are bringing along our friend and compatriot, Lucy Wainwright Roche,
a girl with a quiver full of stories and songs of her own that need to
be shared.
PASTE PRESENTS OVER THE RHINE IN CONCERT,
with special guest Lucy Wainwright Roche*
(THIS) THURSDAY, JUNE 16, 2011, CHARLOTTE, NC, VISULITE THEATER*
FRIDAY, JUNE 17, ATLANTA, GA, VARIETY PLAYHOUSE*
SATURDAY, JUNE 18, ASHEVILLE, NC, THE ORANGE PEEL*
+++
FRIDAY, JUNE 24, SHAKORI HILLS, NC, WILD GOOSE FESTIVAL (OtR 9pm)
+++
THURSDAY, JULY 7, AKRON, OH, STAN HYWET HALL AND GARDENS
+++
CONVERSATIONS ON A MUSICAL TRAIN:
Don’t forget about our train ride, September 22-29. Join us with special
guests Mary Gauthier, Richard Shindell, Michael Wilson and more, for music,
hot springs, mountains and trains – the week of a lifetime.
Overtherhine.com for details.
More to come.
Peace like a river, love like an ocean,
Linford and Karin of Over the Rhine
ps Please share the above freely. Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers,
you’re welcome. You can stay right here. You don’t have to go.