L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

Laughing Ladies

It’s a pretty safe bet to put you, dear blog reader, in the category of people who were not at our show Saturday night, since pretty much everybody was not at our show Saturday night. People were lining up in droves to not be at our show.

But music materialized. Drinks drunk, comestibles consumed, ladies laughed at the Laughing Ladies Cafe and we were glad to introduce our new guitarist, George Michael (not that George Michael) though it was a bittersweet gladness that we were not playing with our old guitarist, Dave Quick.

Dave had a serious stroke nearly six months ago and has a long recovery still ahead of him. We keep in touch and wish him and his seriously awesome wife, Jan, the very best. Even though Dave was not there in body, his influence on our music was present in arrangements, spirit and style. George (also known as Lyndon Heart) studied Dave’s parts to prepare for the show, though he brings his own lively style to the mix.

The show was broadcast live on Indie Spectrum Radio, in Second Life and on ustream.tv. Here is the archive of the ustream video feed, in all its static, ultracompressed glory:

The video was created using the built-in web cam on my Mac PowerBook which was plopped on a box on a table, turned on and left to its own devices for 146 minutes and 58 seconds. My dream of an Oscar for cinematography is on hold for the moment.

But the music is back and that’s reward enough.

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• Mixed Reality Music
• Shake it
• Mr. ESP
• Video is a Slut
• A Four-way with Eva

Mixed Reality Music

A press release from my other life as Commissioner Moon:

Redmond Digital Arts Festival Sunday, January 10 2010, 3:00pm - 5:00pm FREE

(Sponsored by: Microsoft, City of Redmond, Gas Powered Games, Marriot, DigiPen, & Redmond City Center)

The Redmond Arts Commission welcomes you to the 2nd Digital Arts Festival, beginning with special events in December 2009 and featuring workshops and presentations on January 15 and 16, 2010. Join us for a celebration of the artists and businesses that work in Redmond and the areas nearby. There are many new activities this year. Please come and enjoy!

Come to SOULFOOD BOOKS on 15748 Redmond Way (next to Ben Franklin) for an event where virtual and real worlds collide! Be part of an event that brings together music lovers from around the world for an event that blurs the barrier between real and virtual as musicians play for a global audience at a simultaneous jam. The Mixed Reality Musical Jam will take place both on the ground in Redmond and online in “Second Life.”

Second Life is an online virtual world where some of today’s most talented musicians play live for audiences around the world without leaving their homes. Local Second Life musicians will gather to demonstrate how live music performance transcends borders and boundaries in the digital age.

Seattle-based Second Life musicians performing at the Real Life Festival:

• Chaos Noyes
• Dakota Pluto
• Dale Aries
• Edward Kyomoon
• Eva Moon
• Grif Bamaison
• Lyndon Heart
• Patrick LaSalle
• Tukso Okey
• Zag Jigsaw

We will stream video directly from Soulfood Books into the Second Life venue so that the audience there can see both the avatars performing AND the video of the live performers side by side.

We will also project the Second Life concert onto a screen at Soulfood Books so that the audience there can see both the avatars performing AND the live performers side by side.

• Directions to Soulfood Books
• Festival info: http://redmondartsfestival.com
• Directions to the Second Life venue
• Get a free Second Life account
• Or listen to the simulcast on BZOO Radio

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• Tough Love
• The whole show in 3.5
• Showtime!

No one will ever know

Chapter One

Many years ago, long before I was the confident, capable (snort) singer I am now, I was acutely nervous about a solo in a choir concert. The solo was an exceedingly obscure Hungarian Gypsy song. It would be hard to overstate just how obscure this song was. It was from a tiny village in Kalotaszeg, a tiny cluster of Hungarian villages in northwestern Romania so remote the whole region only has two lines in Wikipedia. The song was passed to me on a cassette of a cassette of a cassette from a peripatetic ethnomusicologist. The concert was at a Jewish Community Center in Sherman Oaks, CA. What exactly was I fretting about? That I would fuck up the words.

“Who will know?” the director pointed out.

She had a point. I sucked in air and tried to unclench.

I did fuck up the lyrics, singing through a brief spurt of nonsense syllables. I let it go. After all, who would know?

I found out at intermission when I was accosted by an elderly, weeping woman. She was not only from Romania. She was not only from Kalotaszeg, but she was from the exact village where the song originated! How we both ended up at the same Sherman Oaks JCC, is just one of those unfathomable cosmic mysteries. Of course, she didn’t care a burgonyakereg about the fluffed lyrics.

But, damn!

Chapter Two

About four years ago, my band Balkanarama recorded a live CD. One night, twelve songs, one take, no do-overs, no overdubs. While not flawless, it’s an energetic and true representation of our live sound. One of the “not flawless” bits occurs 27 seconds into the first song. Another lyric flub. Instead of “kerta” I bobbled and sang “ashka.” If I never mentioned it, who would know, right? Well, this song, while not exactly Billboard fare, is not quite as obscure as the first one. It was written and recorded by the famous Rom singer, Esma Redzepova so, yes, there are some who might catch it. But only one who matters: Esma herself. And what are the chances of her hearing it?

Chapter Three

Fast forward once more to 2009. The phone rings. The caller is a movie producer who wants to know if he can acquire the rights to two songs from our Live CD for the sound track of an independent film currently in production. Gee, let me think about th… yes!

The movie (due to be released in the spring of 2010) is You May Not Kiss the Bride, a romantic comedy/caper flick directed by Rob Hedden in which a mobster tries to arrange for his daughter to obtain U.S. citizenship by setting her up with a American photographer. It stars Rob Schneider, Katharine McPhee, Dave Annable, Ken Davitian and Mena Suvari. The first two songs from our CD will be the celebratory music for the big wedding scene at the end.

But of course, since Esma wrote the song, rights had to be procured from her publisher. Which means, once again, the ONE PERSON IN THE WORLD to whom my lyrical fluff would actually matter, will know.

To this day, I continue to screw up lyrics regardless of the language. But now it’s a trademark.

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• The Bonehead of the Opera
• Sibling Revelry
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Ten Reasons Why You Should Give My CD

I’m not pushy when it comes to selling my CD’s. I put it out there and trust that you all will be so impressed with it’s excellence that you’ll step right up and buy it. I sincerely thank all four of you who did.

I’m not going to start getting pushy now either, but it IS the holiday season and some of you MAY be looking for that perfect gift or stocking stuffer RIGHT NOW! Or you may even be looking to reward yourself for all your hard work. Go ahead, you’ve earned it.

Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Give My  “Moon Falling Down” CD This Holiday Season:

1. Subversive cover art! Who else would take one of the world’s most beloved bedtime tales and drag it down to the corrupt depths of BDSM fantasy? Show your loved ones how sick you are.
2. Not sold at Target! They called and begged me, but I said not until they show they have the guts to say “Happy Holidays” even if it pisses off the religious nuts.
3. Better than a Snuggie! Snuggies are the hot gift this year for everyone who’s turning down the thermostat. But did you know blanket-cocoon made of “Moon Falling Down” CD’s will take your mind off the temperature in no time at all?
4. Makes great insulation! Go Green with “Moon Falling Down.” Just slip CD’s into the cracks under doors and around windows for big savings when the next power bill comes.
5. It’s waterproof! That’s right. Bring them in the shower, make cute little floating rafts in the tub, take them for long, romantic walks in the rain. Won’t shrink, fade or bleed.
6. Allowed on most diets. Trying to lose weight? You’re not alone. But rest assured, “Moon Falling Down” has ZERO calories and can be a healthy part of any nutritious meal plan.
7. Laughter is the best medicine. Have you SEEN Obama’s health plan? Better keep extras on hand for the flu season and beyond.
8. Bail out the economy! The feds dropped over a trillion dollars on Wall Street to try to save the economy. YOU can do your bit for just TEN BUCKS!
9. The sex.
10. It makes YOU look GOOD. The lyrics are funny and smart. The music is a hot blend of jazz/pop/latin/cabaret. Clearly anyone savvy enough to give this CD as a gift is a person of the very highest taste, style and hipness. Isn’t that you?

So what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?

Buy it already!

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Your Cheatin’ Guitar

I play keys. Not fabulously, but well enough to accompany myself for the most part and I lean on my band for the rest.

One particular musical rite that I’ve never been able to pull off is jamming. I’ve been to jams - generally the lone keyboard in a sea of guitars. They are filled with people who seem like mortal humans and yet no one has a problem keeping up. Except me. Jams tend to be noisy affairs and I can never hear the keyboard well enough over the din of guitars to be sure I’m on the right chord. As much music as I’ve played over the past (ahem)-ty years, I’ve never played pop or Americana so I don’t know the chords from past learning and I’ve pretty much never played I-IV-V songs. Add to that the hassle of being tethered to the grid. No electricity? No jam for me.

This all came to a head a few weeks ago at a music-intensive conference in San Francisco. I did not travel with my keyboard or amp. A keyboard had been promised at the SF end. But these things being as they are, there was no keyboard for most of the event. (No fault of the promisers. They struggled valiantly on my behalf and I felt like a troublesome, high-maintenance diva, swanning about and sighing over the lack.)

For four days and nights, spontaneous jams sprouted in parks, lobbies, hallways and hotel rooms. Jams I longed to be a part of. I don’t even like John Denver, but damn! my fingers itched to play. Jams are the music of the road. My ancestors did not flee the shtetl dragging amps and cables.

I turned to a guitar-wielding friend and begged, “Teach me!”

My first guitar lesson happened in a hotel room packed with seventeen musicians all going full-blast. It was even captured on video:

And here’s the dirty secret I learned: Guitarists cheat! You don’t need a great ear to jam. Once you know the chords, you can follow by LOOKING. I could be stone deaf and still know from across the room that we’re on D. It was one of those scales-fell-from-my-eyes moments. All this time I’d been thinking I sucked because I was the only one who couldn’t tell just by listening what the chord was. I may still suck, but I’m on to your little game, guitarists.

A keyboard finally did show up the last night. An hour before the big concert. The guy who brought it handed it over with the casual comment, “Oh, I forgot to bring the power adapter. Do you happen to have eight D-cell batteries on you?” (Oh yeah, it’ll be a relief to get them out of my pocket - they’ve been pulling my pants out of shape all night.)

Hand me that guitar. I’m heading to the jam. If you’re there, though, go easy on the barre chords. I’m still learning.

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Tap…tap…tap… is this thing on?

I was practicing a new piano arrangement of my song “Atlanta Nights.” It’s a song about calling up someone you’ve fallen out of touch with. You know how it goes. You don’t call. Time passes. More time passes. After a while it’s awkward to call. What would I say? What could be important enough to pick up the phone after all this time? Will I have to explain why I fell of the face of the earth?

So you put it off longer.

I have this whole song about it and I STILL don’t pick up the phone. It’s a special sort of irony when the person you wrote a song about getting in touch with is someone you haven’t gotten in touch with for FIVE YEARS.

So I finally looked her up. She’s moved from Atlanta to Charlotte, but Googled up just fine. And I did pick up the phone and punch in the numbers. She was there… and delighted (if surprised) to hear from me. The first few minutes were a little awkward, but soon it was like old times.

So here I am at the blog again. It hasn’t been five years, but it still seems awkward. What can possibly be interesting enough after nearly three weeks? Maybe the important thing is to just start. It’s what comes next that counts.

Atlanta Nights
by Eva Moon

Today as I walked through a crowded room
I heard someone laugh and it sounded just like you
All at once you are there in my mind
And it takes me back to another time

And I can’t forget those Atlanta nights
How we talked and laughed ‘til the morning light
I called you up just to hear your voice again
Do you think of me?

I never know what’ll make me think of you
A taste of wine or the curve of the moon
Years slip away but memory stays the same
And I still look up when I hear your name

And I can’t forget those Atlanta nights
How we talked and laughed ‘til the morning light
I called you up just to hear your voice again
Do you think of me?

It’s been too long, so I’ll just say it plain
It would fill my heart to see you again

And I can’t forget those Atlanta nights
How we talked and laughed ‘til the morning light
I called you up just to hear your voice again
Do you think of me?

You will always be…

Hey, Babs!

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Shake it

The Mediterranean Fantasy Festival is an annual weekend-long indulgence in non-stop belly dancing. Each year the boundaries of what constitutes belly dance are stretched. The operative word in the festival name is “fantasy.” It’s not about an art form frozen in academic purity for these people. It’s about having fun and expressing yourself. It’s good to be reminded every now and then that there’s a beautiful princess lurking inside the most unlikely bodies. Among the highlights were a charming troupe of flower-bedecked burlesque pixies dancing to klezmer-electronica, a towering tribal-goth giantess with waist-length black dreads who chose hip-hop, our very talented teacher, Zuleika showing everyone how it’s really done, long dangly coin earrings for only $5, and of course our own moment in the spotlight.

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• Mr. ESP
• Video is a Slut
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The Cookies of Atonement

Never underestimate the power of baked goods.

Once, my keyboard amp fried three days before a show. I called the electronics repair shop in a panic. The guy said it was at least a week’s wait just to look at it.

“But I have a show!”

“Everyone has a show.”

It was time to break out the heavy artillery. I whipped up a batch of my magic peanut butter cookies.

(Here’s the recipe: 1 cup peanut butter, 1 egg, 3/4 cup sugar. Mix, roll into small balls, bake at 350 for 15 minutes, let cool a bit before trying to get them off the pan. They’re really soft right out the oven, but set up great.)

I wrapped up a plateful, tossed the keyboard in the car and raced over to the shop. The cookies were still warm when I got there.

They fixed the amp while I waited. Bribery so works.

Bandheimers and Redemption

This time around, it wasn’t bribery but atonement I sought. And I was praying for redemption through sugar.

Last Friday, the mister and I returned home from a lovely al fresco dinner in town to find a little note on the door wondering why we weren’t there for band practice. Wait, it gets worse. When I suggested the outing earlier that evening, my husband said, “Don’t we have band practice?” “No,” I assured him breezily, “that’s next week.”

Shit. A fevered review of e-mails followed and the outcome wasn’t pretty. The crucial message was there. I’d missed it and neither of us took the two minutes to check before sauntering off on our sybaritic excursion, dooming our bandmates to a long, trafficky and fruitless drive.

My, as they say, bad.

Abject apologies were certainly not enough. I planned cookies, but mere cookies felt inadequate considering both the magnitude of the sin and the fact that the temperature had soared to a degree approaching the national debt. My offering of home made ice cream sandwiches proved sufficient for absolution to be granted.

Phew!

Not only that but our band mates now are no longer the last living people on earth with no cell phone.

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The odds are good that the goods are odd

Personal Ads
© Eva Moon

Tired of sitting home at night waiting for my shining knight
Personal ads might shed some light looking for a man who’s…

Having fun… with the personal ads
Just begun… in the personal ads
On the run… in the personal ads
Son of a gun… in the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

Here’a an ad from a guy named Rex. Seeks a woman he respects
Even so, one suspects all he really wants is…

What’s in store… in the personal ads
Give me more… of the personal ads
Will I score… in the personal ads
Can’t ignore… the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

Here’s an ad from a guy named Rick. Thinks that he and I will click
His ad looks pretty slick, but I fear he’s just a…

Little blind… to the personal ads
What a find… in the personal ads
Same old grind… in the personal ads
Out of my mind… in the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

I’ve had enough. That’s it, I am done
No more wasted nights. Wait… this guy might be the one…

Here’s an ad from a guy named Chuck. Say’s he’s built like a pickup truck
I don’t know if I trust my luck. He just hopes I like to…

Meet guys… in the personal ads
Nothing but lies… in the personal ads
Big surprise… in the personal ads
Getting wise… to the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

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• The Bonehead of the Opera
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Mr. ESP

From the CD release party…

Mr. ESP
© Eva Moon

My heart has been abducted and flown around the globe
My head’s been deconstructed I’m ready for your probe
You’re using psychic powers to send me to the moon
The rapture lasts for hours the heat could bend a spoon

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. You’re playing with T.N.T.
Channel the limits of X.T.C. Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P.

An out of body feeling, is this just lunacy?
Or have you been revealing a dark conspiracy?
Our thoughts are intertwined. You’re filling up my soul
You penetrate my mind and then I lose control

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. You’re playing with T.N.T.
Channel the limits of X.T.C. Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P.

I’m rising toward the light, the feeling so intense
Transcending at the height near death experience
My paranormal lover you must have ESP
How else could you discover just what would set me free?

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. Oh baby, it’s XTC
C’mon and set off that TNT Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P!

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• The whole show in 3.5
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