When I first started touring as a solo
act 3 years ago it was as much out of defiance as anything else. The
life I'd made for myself looked nothing at all like the life I'd
always thought I'd lead. I hadn't intended to become a sound
designer. I'd intended to be a writer, a composer, and a performer.
But sound design was fun and close enough to the thing I really
wanted to do, so it was OK for a while. But as theatre companies came
to know me only as a sound designer, and people I considered friends
were dismissive of my ambitions as a writer (“aw that's cute! The
designer thinks he can write plays! No, Nathan, we write the plays.
You make them sound good. OK?” or my personal favorite “we've
hired this amazing composer for this project! You're really going to
like working with him.” “But I'm a composer...” “I know!
That's why you'll work so well together!”) I came to be
irrationally resentful of my successes as a designer, and the only
thing I could think to do was to make a clean break for a little
while and head off on the road.
It's been three years, and certainly
the trajectory has not been what I'd expected. It's been harder, more
exhausting, and more thankless than I'd ever thought possible. It's
also been better, more fulfilling, and more incredible than I could
have ever imagined. And though I'm still quite far from where I want
to be, every once in a while, it's good to take a second and
appreciate where you are. So that was the story when after a fairly
lackluster afternoon show in a coffee shop in Pittsfield, MA, I got
ambushed by a million messages of congratulations. “I assume you've
seen this...” they all said. “Seen what?”I thought to myself.
And then I did. A stellar review for Icarus, the latest play
to nearly kill me, in the New York Times. Having my songs compared to
Kurt Weill in the New York Times? I'll take it. (I'm trying to take
the comparison to Mumford and Sons as the compliment I think it was
intended as...) I'm still not totally sure how to process it. Right
now: gratitude. More rational thoughts can come later. This is Pen
Pen doing his best not to totally embarrass himself by doing
cartwheels in a coffee shop.
So I headed to Agawam for the real
show. 30 or 40 kids piled into a
kitchen in a punk house next to a church. Kowabunga! Kid opened and
were awesome as always. I snagged one of their 7”s and am a little
sad to hear they wont be touring much in the future. Thus ends the
triumphant and unintentional 48 hour Kowabunga! Kid / Nathan Leigh
Northeast Tour of 2013. I also got a cassette. They have cassettes.
Word. CJB are this rad ska band from Detroit. I confess to making fun
of their “PNKROCK” vanity plate as they pulled it, but they were
really sweet guys and a killer band. So I'm OK with them having a
goofy license plate. There are worse things in the world. Like
Mumford and Sons. Dérive
finished off the electric part of the evening with some mind-bending
prog indie rock. It was a little weird closing out the night as an
acoustic act. I was by a wide margin the quietest act of the night,
but the crowd seemed determined to fix that by shouting along as
loudly as possible. It was awesome. Truly truly awesome. This is Pen
Pen pimping it in the grimiest lounge chair in Agawam, MA.
I made
it back to Brooklyn, determined to sleep in my own bed one last time
before 4 weeks of uncertainty. The next morning I'd frantically get
up. Finish the last minute cleaning and packing I'd intended to do
before I left, and then try to see Icarus
one last time and give my cast my love before skipping town again.
This is Pen Pen enjoying the glory that is one's own bed.
As
usual, I was late for coffee with the prodigal Carson before we
headed to the show. (I'm nothing if not a sucker for awkward
situations.) But it was really wonderful seeing the show, this time
with the certainty that other people seemed to like this bizarre
little Folk Opera we'd created. For once I wasn't second guessing
every decision. Every note a resounding question. “Should this have
been an A? It would be better if it were an A.” The notes are what
they were, and it seems like people were enjoying the order I put
them in. That's cool. And it was really wonderful seeing Carson again
after 4 months. If all of my friendships are going to persist in
being truly strange, I'm at least glad to have strange friendships
with good people. This is Pen Pen battling New York like an American Godzilla who is also a penguin and winning.
On my
way out of town (again) I swung by Ma's House to pick up a bag of
zines to distro on my travels. No luck in finding a copy of
yesterday's New York Times. The folks at the bodegas I asked thought
I was crazy “No. We only have today's. Why do you want
yesterday's?” Because I want documented proof that The Man thinks
I'm cool, OK? (Does this mean I have to stop bucking The Man and
trashing the general inadequacy of the Mainstream Media at every
opportunity? I hope not. I really don't have a whole lot of other
topics of conversation at my disposal...) This is Pen Pen preparing
to spread Anarcho zines through the country like an anti-Capitalist
Johnny Appleseed!
Saturday's
show in Binghamton was small, but still fun. We'll go with intimate?
Yeah, intimate sounds good. But people who were there were the right
people, and it made it into a
really enjoyable night. Also there was this couple who kept asking
for preposterous covers (“Laughing Gnome!” “Me and My Arrow!”
“Coldplay!”) Part of me feels like this is the real first night
of the tour. The other part of me is having trouble telling where one
adventure ends and another begins. We like to compartmentalize our
stories. We like them to have a beginning, middle, and end. And then
another one begins. Chapters. Sequels. In the biopic, my story would
end with a glowing review in the Times of my new musical. A
triumphant button on 3 years of struggle and sickness. In reality,
the story is just beginning. This is Pen Pen telling you about the
town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where this happened here, they got
three stop signs, two police officers and one police car, but when we
got to the scene of the crime there was five police officers and
three police cars, being the biggest crime of the last fifty years
and everybody wanted to get in the newspaper story about it.
This
is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share with
your friends.
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