Mermaid or Whale? Reposted from my friend Erica Brown

From my friend Erica:

Recently in a large city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said, "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?" A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.) They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don't exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Just look at them ... where is IT? Therefore, they don't have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me: I want to be a whale.

P..S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren't heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, good grief, look how smart I am!

Dutch Review: Nieue Geluiden

Dutch Review: Nieue Geluiden

http://nieuwegeluiden.blogspot.com/

Dutch:

In de bergstad Asheville is Stephaniesid al enkele jaren een gelauwerde en bevreemdende verschijning. Het lokale publiek loopt warm voor de, uit het duo Chuck Lichtenberger (piano) en Stephanie Morgan (zang) gegroeide, band. Stephaniesid mag dan een wake-up call heten voor de plaatselijke scene waar doorgaans de banjo heerst, wij worden regelmatig getrakteerd op dergelijke indierebellie. Dat wil niet zeggen dat de inmiddels volwassen band de moeite niet waard is. Op dit derde album, Warm People, treffen we zeer creatief songschrijverschap en een geëngageerde performance. Door de rijke bezetting kan de band divers klinken, maar ze weten een consistente stijl vast te houden. Ze halen inspiratie bij een uiteenlopende selectie artiesten, waaronder vast Björk, Lamb en Sara Lov, om vervolgens eigenwijze indiepopliedjes op te nemen die zonder probleem een plek tussen het creatievere singer-songwriter werk opeisen. Het betreft hier echter een band die gewoon het oorspronkelijke duo goed aanvoelt. Ze hebben de plezierige neiging om echt mooie muziek te willen maken. Die ligt weliswaar niet altijd even gemakkelijk in het gehoor, maar weet altijd te intrigeren. Op het album is de liefde voor de mens, momenten van ontmoeting en de naïvité van ontdekkingen zeer uitgesproken. Hun muziek imiteert deze houding door de stijlen die als tegenpolen convulsief pulseren. Stephaniesid is soms best aanstekelijk, maar niet alleen vrolijk. Hier zullen ze geen revolutie teweeg brengen. De collage van spiegelende facetten op Warm People is echter een verrassend goede aanvulling op het bestaande indiepop experiment.

English (translated with Google...note: Google is a probably not the best choice for translating this. for pure entertainment only):

In the mountain city of Asheville is Stephaniesid for several years and winning a strange appearance. The local public will warm to, from the duo Chuck Lichtenberger (piano) and Stephanie Morgan (vocals) has grown, band. Stephaniesid may be a wake-up call named for the local scene which usually is the banjo, we are regularly treated to such indierebellie. That does not mean that the now adult belt is not worth the trouble. On this third album, Hot People, we find very creative song writer and a committed performance. The rich diversity of occupation, the band sound, but they know a consistent style to maintain. They get inspiration from a diverse selection of artists, including established Björk, Lamb and Sara Lov, then its own indiepop songs to take place without a problem between the creative singer-songwriter work claim. It is a band that just the original duo feels good. They have the pleasant tendency to really want to make beautiful music. This is admittedly not always easy to interview, but am always intriguing. The album is the love for man, moments of encounter and the discoveries naïvite of very pronounced. Their music imitates this behavior by the styles as opposites convulsief throb. Stephaniesid is sometimes best catchy, but not happy. Here they will not revolution. The collage of mirror facets on Warm People is a surprisingly good complement to the existing indiepop experiment.

On July 4, Written by my father

It's certainly enjoyable to go to a 4th of July celebration, which I did. But then I got to thinking (as did the writer of the above linked article) that most folks spend very little time considering what made/makes America different from nearly every country on earth.

All elected officials, appointees and bureaucrats are servants of the people, and not vice-versa. All kinds of taxes and fees charged by the govt must be approved by the people's representatives and those revenues must be used judiciously and accounted for clearly.

It's not the dirt, or the beautiful scenery, that makes America a better place to live. And it's not the mighty military that actually protects it.

Learning and teaching the principles of true independence and democracy are the key.

David M. Morgan

the northeast, in 12 easy pieces

we did it. toured the northeast with warm people (though we plan to afterbirth the north drive this weekend, returning to MD and DE for festivals... who can resist a festival?... and, who's kidding who, we'll be back up again, given the hospitality that reigned, and the sid discovery of the delights of the power trio... onstage and in the van).

we packed three of us (chuck, me, evan) into a white chevy astrovan (it has been mistaken for a taxi, i.e. "hailed", more than once, despite its non-yellow exterior, but is allowed graces in some parking situations due to its ambiguous identity as a van belonging to some sort of repairman or pest control service). all the equipment fit this time, with no need for a hefty uhaul trailer or its accompanying pickup-and-return hassle. one could sleep in the back, one in the passenger seat. sleep is key.

dc sweet town where we have yet to find a fanbase. are you out there? marcella, kevin, carolina, areesah, raul came out, in true torchbearing fashion. love them. "surprise! arizona" opened. sweetest guys. we'll be back, dc, like it or not!

nyc show #1: brooklyn, southpaw at 8:30, too early for folks to get there. morale check: lowish. we've driven far, and paid a cover to get into the city. no fair. shining faces that made this show worth it: meredith, keith, joe & brian of st. bernadette, courtney & benjamin of kaiser cartel, maggie & doug. we hear st. bernadette rocked it out later. show #2: lower east manhattan, rockwood music hall. utterly silent room. russian bear was playing upon our entrance... amazing. decided to pare down to just their baby grand piano, me on guitar, evan on a couple of drums. amazing show. loved it. needed it. catharsis. jenn, michelle, simon (!!), jacob's friends, a lawyer named harvey, and xylopholks made that tiny room into a little love alarm for sleepy southerners. evan's birthday status and correct trivia answer won him 4 cupcakes, and xylopholks (in cookie monster, chicken, and skunk costumes) brought the house down with their supreme humor and instrumental prowess.

boston evan spotted asheville friends and performing duo speedsquare just past the toll booth. what are the chances? we texted and made rock-n-roll signs out the windows until hugs and omigosh-what-are-the-chances? ensued at the venue. piano-player billy was sick with paranoia and/or swine flu, which he likely gave to evan at that moment. then, oh good god. electric laser people took the stage and led people in their so-fun singalongs and robot stories. jeez, they are a riot and the greatest folks! we played next. what a show! trumpet-playing speedsquarian c scott sat in, as did the ELP folks. ELP-er grant took a phone camera video of it. will try to post somewhere. liz, sofia, chuck's cousins paul and justin, alli, and a good number of robot scientists were in attendance. evan's birthday continued, and drunkenness ensued. returned home to liz's house and its feline inhabitants, 3 being almost too young to exert any gravitational force on the tiny pillow they were gathered upon. evan had found his sleeping partners. all resolved to make this show a yearly may tradition.

portland, me who knew it would be so much like asheville? speedsquare decided to busk there, given the weather's fine nod, so chuck and i danced to their drum-and-piano street show (which rocks in asheville and portland alike). billy was less sick, retrospectively diagnosing himself with the regular flu. lady lamb the beekeeper opened with the sweetest music, and lent us their korg synth when my alesis blew a power supply. they played with us, as did speedsquare... new friends for sure. james and the folks at one longfellow square are great to work with. shelly, rob & robyn from charisma booking and their friends came out. tina & hubby too. i ate breakfast in a very ashevillian kind of place... local 188... they toasted my special bread for me (spelt or gluten-free... the only way i can do it) and made plain eggs and my journal taste like ambrosia.

nashua, nh there's a little warehouse-art space that's working on getting a series going. it's called studio 99, headed by a whip-smart flutist/actress named elise. the space is in a really really old mill where women worked ages ago picking stones out of cotton for textiles. there is soul there. we were to be their second show ever. and we were, minus an audience outside of the organizers. turns out an unknown band from a zillion miles away shouldn't play nashua on a sunday. but let it be known that these folks are the goods, and the room is inspiring, and that scene will grow and grow. hope they'll see fit to have us return.

northampton, ma where our label (nine mile records) lives, until they move to austin in august. the town is the bomb. hip and collegiate with crunchy granola underpinnings and idyllic scenery. celebrated cinco de mayo at mama iguana's with rick of nine mile and potent margaritas... then headed to the elevens to play with spouse (yes... that song is awesome), michael merenda, and surprise guests... members of the young @ heart chorus (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3uOOhm8Fj8), an elderly group of singers who cover the pixies, bon jovi, the ramones, etc. with a great backing band. these folks were awe-inspiring... i filled up my phone with videos and shed a few tears as arthur sang, "it's my life... it's now or never...". rick and wife rebecca played us their music (he's a drummer and she's a singer) for the first time... had no idea it was so good. croony and raw and very real. the kincaids. daughter lily is bounding with energy and reading like a champ at age 4. smart, fun family. rick made us gluten-free blueberry pancakes wed. am. what did we do to deserve?

pittsfield, ma definitely not the best-attended show. but the mission tapas bar wins another award... best.... food.... ever! we were spoiled. poor evan was still sick (did i mention he was sick?). but we did a little sit-down show and got to meet joe (hey joe!) and his sweet sister as well as the great folks who run the place... we hope to stop over again when we're up.

baltimore, md wow did our old friends/fans turn out! after a simultaneous nap-labyrinth period (evan on the nap; chuck and steph on the brick maze at a nearby episcopal church), and subsequently a tasty meal at matsuri (sushi extraordinaire, formerly managed by friend larry george), where we met up with dc friends marcella, raul, areesah, and carolina, we headed to the 8x10 and crammed our stuff into the stairwell to await our designated play time. the place is trying to get an austin city limits-type thing going, so they had 3 cameras on all the bands and did an interview. i didn't like the way the club wanted us to sell merch downstairs, near the bathrooms. and i told them so. we were a little adversarial for a minute when they ranted about the fire code when i put the vinyl up on the edge of the stage for sale. i thought, "what if i put a guitar amp there? less of a fire hazard?" but logic did not prevail. in any case, dancing and friendship ensued, featuring deb, melanie, mama soray (who gave me the greatest homemade shirt), jim hickey (thanks for your exquisitely supportive grassrootsness), justin and brooke, and so many more. they wanted to hear old school stephaniesid (more aptly: Stephanie's Id) songs. so we played "white guys" and whatnot. we will convert them to warm people soon enough!

easton, md immediately we knew there was money involved. the town has an air of dignitaries and summer-homeness. sure enough, we were told that donald rumsfeld and dick cheney used to have houses next to each other (hmm) and julia roberts has a house there... and apparently lots of wealthier-than-average folks do too. and us in our white van, sans polo shirts, strolled in, greeted by bright yellow floral tablecloths and the sound of a latte machine.... and... some pretty nasty rap music on low volume. soon enough, coffee east / nightcat made its nocturnal persona known, and a couple of sweet singer-songwriters opened (oh blonde-haired man, cannot recall your name at the moment, but your first performance was engaging and your friends are lovely). to mark and the folks at mangold entertainment, we look forward to our return on oct. 10. to tom and friends, a hearty hello.

rehoboth beach, de it was a brew pub. probably the best brew pub, as so many friends coveted that we'd be near it, but in any case that whole "transcendent / majestic" thing was hard to deliver in that sort of room. so instead we forewent the majesty for a sort of comedy hour, given the atmosphere and long set, and we managed to connect with several in the room, and even convince a few to buy turntables and the 12" record. couple more converts. the booker is exceedingly nice and for some reason i felt the constant need to punch him in the arm like a little sister. so i did, and he seemed to be a sport. tom and friends, shucks... thanks for driving out. 

drive home=great weather and recent nostalgia for the nice week. thanks to charisma booking for doing what i've never been able to do, and to our old & new fans for loving and loving. for being warm. you know.

still lots more shows to come. let us know if you want us to come to your town. maybe you can help us?

love,

steph 

12" Red Transparent Vinyl

12" Red Transparent Vinyl

10-year old chloe: "it sounds like the ice cream man in there!"

we were listening to the just-off-the presses acetate testers for the "warm people" vinyl edition... which arrived today from the netherlands, where a special edition of the album is being pressed for release in asheville (apr. 25).

chloe was outside the screen door with the birds, scurrying her skinny self to her piano lesson downstairs with chuck. we invited her in... she sat with her piano book in her lap, and buried her head under my arm.

the sound made by grooves on vinyl is so warm and integrated and classic. i have such a grin when listening... like i've just taken a sweet afternoon nap and awoken to cherries in a bright blue bowl, delivered by the maytag repairman and his children's brass band.

five songs on each side. forty two minutes of stephaniesĭd. highest grade vinyl, transparent red.

hope to see you at the album release. apr. 25, asheville, the grey eagle. and we'll do a tour up the east coast from there.

love,
steph

Recording Complete!

o kids... sid just spent 4 whole days at collapseable studio in asheville and got the whole new album recorded! it's gorgeous, y'all. big, beautiful.... lane bryant-style. a really magical experience. engineer jeff knorr was the swiftest and cunningest... players brought the pain... and sorrow... and infinite joy. now it goes to mix (our old pal vic, former sid drummer, co-producer of grus americanus and mix-master man o'war) has this task. then to mastering. then manufacturing. and probably more m's we haven't anticipated. this all culminates in a spring release (no exact date yet... we'll keep posting).

very special thanks to larry read of charlotte, who kindly provided support for the recording process :)

cd release at the grey eagle on apr. 25 in asheville, and on tour shortly after :)

love,
sid

women's prison

last nite i had a dream about being arrested because my dog bit too many people. it was a loooooooooong and detailed dream; this one occurred in real time. even boring in places.

in handcuffs, i was taken to the jail. it was a gray and silver place that teemed with jail-clad women with bleach-blonde hair and dark roots. the women, having been there, or in and out of there, for a long time, seemed to know the drill, and be friends, or at least allies. they seemed friendly enough at first, and i to them, as i had less anxiety than curiosity and mild amusement about the whole experience; i thought the law that put me there (and its enforcement) was ludicrous, and that i was simply acting out my required 2-week stint in the slammer and as a bonus would take in an interesting social study.

i ate in the cafeteria with the rest. i remember the food being an amalgam of orange, amorphous stuff. don't remember how it tasted. on day 3 or 4, i began a series of required exams, including one with the jail dentist, which i considered a bonus because it was free, and it would only cost me 2 weeks of jail time. they repaired a cavity and gave me some sort of flouride treatment, which i didn't really agree with, but again, part of the social study, and not to be messed with. i continued to keep to myself mostly, observing, writing from time to time, and generally not associating with the other inmates except to be politely and minimally supportive.

many of the inmates had lesbian tendencies. i surmised that only a few were actual practicing lesbians outside the jailhouse, and the rest were experimenting due to the culture and general boredom. i didn't imbibe (that i recall), but maintained a mystery such that most women couldn't tell what my persuasion was. i probably thought it was best that way; pander to everybody, don't get hurt, write a good book after release.

as two weeks neared completion, i began talking to some of the staff about my crime, and about the strange and little-known law that could land a person in prison for their dog's misbehavior. i spoke flippantly, assuming their sympathy and general agreement about the circuslike nature of the situation ("and me, of all people... you know?"). the topic also came up in a prison group therapy session, where all the women began trying to figure out what made me tick, and why i was there in the first place. the leaders among them were incredulous. the therapy focus was upon owning one's issues and taking responsibility. i began to realize that the general sentiment was not in my favor: staff and inmates alike thought that i thought that i was too good for the place.

it was on.

asking staff members for access to the phone was met with increasingly less success. my easy relationship with even the cafeteria ladies turned cold and sour. i was taunted. pushed around. i fought back physically, and was surprisingly successful, but my naivete was overwhelming. upon the day of my supposed release, no one came to unlock the bars and no one applauded my inevitable return to "real life." instead, on my way to lunch with the other prisoners, i asked a guard to whom i should speak about my impending release, and she said, "i'll check your file," and when i tracked her down later, she said, "oh, i talked to the boss, and he won't be back until saturday, and he'll talk to you then." and on saturday, after i again pursued the guard, she said, "since you were peeking at the other women in the showers, your sentence is extended." she had the slightest grin of victory.

picky and/or ungrounded reasons were found to continue extending my stay. i began getting real with people. mad. i began looking for allies. none save one weak girl who couldn't save me in a fight. but she was somebody. she and i sat on some sort of stoop one day in the main office, waiting for the jail chaplain that i had manipulated into coming to talk to us. i had assumed correctly that most of the guards were of a protestant religious background and that god talk would be their weak spot. i ranted in an authoritative voice that i had rights and lawyers and that my relationship with jesus was suffering because i could not have fellowship in my congregation; that i could find my way if only i could speak with a man of the cloth. i assumed incorrectly that this man of the cloth would be unbiased regarding the jailhouse, the law, and my dog (i thought silently, "god/dog is my copilot"), and thus strongly sympathetic to my situation. he was tall, thin, wore glasses, looked the part of a philosophical, forward-thinking, pious man. but he said,

"well, stayfanie. i don't see the chraaast in ewe. i thank he's up and left you."

there was always an open door when we cleaned a certain area of the jailyard. a guard was pretty nonchalant about her duties there. i had never thought to walk out of it before, as i didn't want to suffer the consequences, and had initially more or less welcomed the jailtime (martyrdom has social benefits). but this time i just up and walked out. then started running. i heard yells and alarms behind me.

i can never run in dreams. i'm always very slow. i can speed up somewhat if i take to using my hands as well, like an animal. i try to gallop like a horse or dog, to get more traction on the ground. the chaser never seems to catch up, but it's an agonizing part of any dream for me. this chase went on for hours. the chaser kept changing shape, from a namibian athlete-looking person to a fat guard to a small child to a dog to a vehicle. i jumped over fences, climbed and leaped over buildings, scaled ivy, all in super slo-mo. nothing ever hurt, but i bled. it should have hurt. i tried to find a crowd to get lost in, but there seemed to be no one out. it was getting dark, and i considered stopping into a friend's house for a beer (i don't drink beer in real life). then i thought that would just make that old friend an accomplice, and i was already a bad friend for being lame about correspondence, so i kept "running", and came to an old apartment building with lots of brush and vines, and steep, white painted wooden external stairs. i was jumpy and terrified. the chaser and me did a hide-and-seek dance many times around those stairs. by this time, s/he was a small african child, turning into a small african baby in a blanket.

at the very top of those steep stairs, i threw that baby away from me. s/he landed on a sharp post, fell to the ground, and did not come to.