Blog posts

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  May 27, 11:25 AM

  If Brian’s Not Worried, You’re Not Worried (bassist tour blog)

  It is my personal belief that Brian Cassagnol is a genius. Now, I know the term, "genius" gets thrown around a lot, but I feel compelled to stress that my deeming someone a genius should not be taken lightly. The criteria is as follows: said "genius" must be a) smarter than I am in some field that I maintain to have expert knowledge in, and b) everybody knows that a good outline needs to have at least 2 points per subheading... hence, point (b). For those of you who are unaware, Brian Cassagnol is Mieka Pauley's guitarist, music director, and engineer of an overly elaborate and menacingly complicated system of guitar effects pedals. Brian has had a huge part in helping steer the sonic landscape of Mieka Pauley's music in a direction that the rest of the band and fans alike have been coming to recognize as fresh, innovative, and a shit-load louder than it was before. In addition to Mieka Pauley's music, Brian also fronts his own band, "The Books of Brian", in which he sings... better than I can... technically making him a genius by my definition of the word. In addition to Brian''s "vocal performance genius", Brian also knows a lot more shit than I do about classical music, music theory, opera, and "staying calm when you're super late for some shit that you weren't supposed to be super late for". I am fiercely envious of this last manifestation of genius... which brings me to the point of this blog post.

  Over the years, I've come to understand a few important things about myself. They are as follows: a) I am not a mellow or easy-going individual, and b) everybody knows that a good outline needs to have at least 2 points per subheading... hence, point (b). Brian, on the other hand, is exceptionally relaxed and easy-going... to an incredibly socially awkward fault, in fact. It's like there's this spectrum of social awkwardness that people with idiot savant-grade knowledge fall on proportionate to the extent to which their idiot savant-ness exceeds that of the average human brain. Good examples of this include Felix Hoenikker of Vonnegut's "Cat's Cradle", "Doc" from "Back to the Future", and Bill Gates. Brian's position on this spectrum can most easily be located by finding a point on my own personal spectrum: "The extent to which Andrew wants to kill the world". This spectrum ranges from, "not at all" to "check that shit out... Andrew went and killed the world". Brian's position on the "genius" scale can be found where it intersects the "Andrew has a knife to the world's throat, but he's not going to do anything about it" point on the "Andrew kills the world" scale. As you can see, this gets complicated... and I have white hairs sprouting out on my chin to prove it.

  In the end, the fact that Brian has never pushed me completely over the edge has given me the opportunity to adapt a little bit; and I think I'm a better person because of it; and by "better", I mean, "more ok with being socially awkward and/or obnoxious myself". You see, I've adopted a revolutionary and groundbreaking new philosophy based on my experience with Brian. It helps to alleviate stress in situations where Brian may be involved and I'm trying to avoid killing the world; but it also helps to put my mind at ease when I'm confronted with a personal dilemma, head cast up towards to the sky and in a situation where I formerly may have asked, "What would Liza Minnelli do?". Well, I'm through asking gay icons for advice. The new philosophy goes something this: If Brian's not worried, you're not worried.

  Let's say that I'm in traffic and the left-hand lane is backed up for a mile or so due to the fact that everyone in that lane is turning left. I need to turn left, too, but traffic in the right-hand lane is moving swiftly. My new Brian-based philosophy advises me to thank the unspoken social code that causes people to feel an "obligation" to be stupid enough to wait in a line like this; at which point I simply move to the front of the line and cut everyone off. Yes... they are angry. Yes... they are honking. But they probably don't have guns, and I'm out of their hair before they know it. Here's another example of the philosophy in use: I'm at a wedding; I'm at a funeral; I'm in Boston city traffic; When is it appropriate to play "Super Monkey Ball" on my iPhone with the gadget less than 2 inches from my face? The answer is that there is never a time when it's not ok to play "Super Monkey Ball" on my iPhone with the gadget less than 2 inches from my face. See how that works? And I'm guilt free. I'm simply not worried. It's the only way to go through life, really. Kind of a "serenity now" meets "don't worry be happy" approach to things. The key is that it's worry free. Try it for yourself. Even if it's not 100% effective, you'll at least have the pleasure of watching someone close to you hold a knife to the world's throat and threaten to kill it.
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  May 13, 01:42 PM

  I Don’t Know How to Do This (bassist tour blog)

  The title of this blog entry is a direct quote: “I don’t know how to do this,” is something that Mieka said to me on stage during a show at Rockwood Music Hall, recently. I can’t remember if I actually heard the words come out of her mouth. I’m pretty sure that I saw her mouth move in the shape of the words, but…well… it’s just not that important to the story, ok? You see, Mieka has a certain magic about her. She has the power to express, whether she wants it or not. She need not speak. She need not gesture. She needn’t do anything at all, and you are bound to feel her fury; her joy; her despair; her mind-bogglingly neurotic panic. Much of the time, it’s her eyes that do the talking. Mieka’s eyes are beautifully expressive. Even when they are wide with incensed rage, you can’t help but admire their depth. They’re just so big. Often, I’ll find myself gawking in astonished wonderment as Mieka rips me a new one about one thing or another. It’s best not to drift too far out. The sea is uneven. Jagged shards of broken ice bob helplessly amongst inconsistently spaced white-capping waves that head in all directions. Unexplained shipwreck debris finds itself battered into kindling as it claws its way amidst the loosely packed ice, beneath a foreboding and thunderous sky. Lo! A voice; an unseen siren song beckons from the dark horizon… “Are you fucking kidding me?! Have you been listening to anything that I’m saying???” Sorry, Mieka.

  I’d like to return to Rockwood Music Hall, if I may. Mieka, the rest of the band, and I were performing one of our heavier numbers when I seized on an opportunity to have an onstage rock-inspired moment with Mieka. Historically, execution of any traditionally Rock and Roll inspired antic within the context of Mieka Pauley could only be construed as ironic. There’s more acoustic guitar in Mieka Pauley’s past than under every campus tree in every pot-smoking east coast private college that exists or ever has existed. But Rock and Roll in at least one, if not more, of its forms has slowly been finding its way into Mieka Pauley’s music. Don’t get wrong! The extent to which the unadventurous, benign, house-cat character of any Mieka Pauley band member renders any type of raw, ass-kicking, trademark Rock and Roll moment ironic, should not be underestimated. What can I say? We like to drink wine and go to bed early. Irony, however, was not perched at the forefront of my consciousness when I decided to face Mieka onstage and thrust my guitar towards hers by pushing my pelvis out in an exaggerated “let’s make our guitars have sex”, moment. Mieka momentarily obliged. She sensed that this was something that her future identity was calling her to do. “Make your guitar have sex, Mieka,” her inner voice beckoned. “It’s dirty and exhibitionistic, but the people want to watch. You are Chrissie Hynde. You are Joe Perry. You are Slash.”

  From my perspective, all this happened in an instant as Mieka momentarily consulted the ground. She paused, her body facing mine, but with her face cast downward, void of expression. Then, those big eyes turned up to meet mine, wide with panic, but not without a self-conscious twinge of humor regarding the absurdity of her position. “I don’t know how to do this”.
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  May 13, 01:40 PM

  Mieka Pauley Goes to SXSW (bassist tour blog)

  Mieka is used to playing shows on her own. She’s been doing it for years. She’s always been able to just hop into her car with her guitar and go. The solitude offered by the road is something that she has come to expect and possibly even require. On her own, Mieka is able to drive the way that Satan might drive without worrying about nauseating anyone but herself. She steers erratically, she brakes erratically, and she tailgates until you can actually read whatever it is that the person in the back seat of the car in front of you is reading. Adding the band into the equation has created an interesting travel dynamic. We’ve been given a chance to learn how each other’s minds work, but always in the context of a very territorial and strong-willed woman’s “personal space”. One of the guys might ask himself, “I wonder if I can get away with [insert... well... just about anything]“. The answer is invariably, “no”. I mean… Clipping toenails and peeing in a bottle… ok, I get it… most girls probably wouldn’t approve. But being restricted from things like, “talking” and “making eye-contact”. Give me a break.

  Joking aside (not joking), the experience has been pretty satisfying, overall. Rolling into Austin, TX was like a merging of at least 4 different bad movie cliches. The clouds lifted, the sun came out, each member of the band proclaimed his/her love for one another, and… well, somehow there were suddenly leaves on all the trees. Did I mention it was 80 degrees? It was. We also got a chance to find out that each of our minds work in a startlingly similar fashion. For example, not only do each of us derive a sense of euphoria from good weather, but we also get off on poking fun at image-obsessed musicians with weak musical sensibilities and strong generic interpretations of modern trends. In other words, regardless of the altruistic intentions of its creators, SXSW was made for jilted cynics like us. Handlebar mustaches, Unruly beards, fedoras, V-necks, and Neon all have a certain comical place in Brooklyn, but all these kids can’t possibly be from Brooklyn, can they? One night at dinner, Mieka asked me if she could go up and punch a guy whose bug-eyed white sunglasses were just missing the point. If we weren’t a group of non-confrontational mama’s boys, I might have said, “yes”.

  So, what does a band do on a week long trip to Austin, TX after alienating themselves from all possible social interaction? Well, this is where white wine comes into play. After a glass or two, guitarist, Brian Cassagnol, and keyboardist, Gabe Hays, will inevitably be wrapped up in a conversation about how to produce strange noises with computers and custom-built pedals. Mieka and bassist, Andrew Morgan, on the other hand, are much more interested in sociologically deconstructing the monkey-like movements and behaviors of guitarist, Brian Cassagnol, and keyboardist, Gabe Hays. Four glasses in, however, everybody is just commenting on how much the scene outside the hotel window looks like something from a Stephen King novel. “Was that playground there when we got here?”. “Is that swing moving by itself?”. In our band, everything always ends up being about Stephen King, for some reason.

  After five glasses of wine, there’s probably a pillow fight. But at that point, it really doesn’t matter. Soon, it will be 10pm… and sleep will beckon the band into its loving arms. The band will crawl into the one King-sized bed that they opted for over the two doubles in a smoking room and fall into an awkward claustrophobic slumber. For the majority of the band, the next day promises to be bright… mostly because there will be coffee at some point. But then, later, there will be a show to play. And not just any show! It’s SXSW. It’s Austin, TX. It doesn’t happen every day… and Mieka Pauley is thankful… partially because there will be white wine at some point after.