Twirling starlight gleamings from a theremin

Last night, I saw master thereministe Pamelia (pronounced pam-a-lee-ah) Kurstin perform live at a small brick chi chi in Central Square Cambridge, MA. The sounds were haunting and truly ethereal in the dictionary definition sense of the word. She could make it sounds like whales (on acid or E) and create an upright bass sound under it all. She knows where the tones are. The subtlest movements with her fingers and wrists, and palms could create worlds of difference. Sonic shudders like an opera singer's tremolo and vibrato.

Inspiring is simply insufficient to express how it made me feel. I was lucky to be positioned pretty close to one of the speakers, which were suspended from the ceiling. It afforded me the luxury of bathing in the emanating sounds. The martini I had helped too; it loosened me up enough to stop thinking in a verbal way.

Afterwards, I approached the artist to talk to her a bit. She was a sweet as pie, and pretty funny. For instance, I gave her one of my CDs, and inquired about hers. She kindly gave me one - a CD-R. I opened it up just to look at the disc, but there was no disc. It turns out she had left them ALL at home and had only the slimline cases with her self-printed info sheet...We laughed and she said that's what happens when you do things with a hangover! {She offered to email me the MP3s}

When I saw her in the Moog movie, one of the things I remembered most clearly was how her nail polish was cracked and somewhat worn off. It reminded me so much of myself. Even the expression on her face in her scenes - looking serious and, in my opinion, frustrated, like she was working so hard on a piece and couldn't get it perfect. Anyway, it struck me as SO REAL that her polish was not perfect. It was after all, an independent film. Her lack of attention to her manicure contrasted sharply with her absolute mastery and control over her instrument.

It gives me hope...she's about to turn 30, and I'm not far behind.

Anyway she's played on SNL and plays in the band Barbez, except that she lives in Vienna with her boyfriend. She says clubs in Europe will often pay to fly him along to accompany her on gigs...unheard of here unless you're a freaking Rolling Stone or something. Not that I have a boyfriend who wants to help me with my career, lug my gear, er help me sell merch at shows, etc anyway. But her comments about how generous clubs in the UK/EU/etc are are indicative of how much better the situation is for artists is in Europe, or so I'd like to believe. I need some shred of hope that appreciation lies waiting somewhere. It's pretty thin here, unless you're the buzz of the minute. Or second.

Though I shouldn't complain too much. It's just my sour grapes getting the better of me temporarily. This year is off to a smashing start and is only looking better. It promises more music than ever for me, some/most of which will be paid, plus I'm thinking of going back to school {Berklee} to gain some true film scoring know-how...

I'm just a little bruised by the lack of support or even acknowledgement from some of my dearest friends. The ones who say "you're so talented, I'm your biggest fan...blah blah" but never show up at shows.

Oh well, this ego can get pretty hungry.

But this post was supposed to be about Pamelia, so here' a link to her website:
http://www.pameliakurstin.com

And a link to Bill T Miller's pix of her performing:
http://www.billtmiller.com/pk

Here's a pic he took of me lounging about at the show...

Post show blues

So at first are the nerves.

Afterwards {and during} comes the fake elation and painful smiles, all the while wondering if it was any good. Hoping it was.

I wore the gold dress.

There were witnesses to my work. And a recording.

Did some fun covers - Pink Floyd, Massive Attack, a song from the Twin Peaks original motion picture soundtrack.

But there was no Scott or anyone else to go for the celebratory drink at the Model Cafe. There hasn't been for about 6 months.

We started behind schedule, so some folks left early. It's hard to keep track of who's there and who's not after a certain point. But that's ok. My focus is my performance.

Turkish cabaret music on my iTunes right now. Fitting for how late it is, how I am dressed, and how I feel.

I want to be and give the stuff of dreams. To give back what I have received from my favorite records and performances...

It's worth it when people come up to say hi after perfs. With smiles on their faces.

I am hungry, or I wouldn't need to get up there time after time.

Who knows what I am moving toward, but I have friends and fellow musicians who support me and help me out. Little things, like helping haul my gear, and bigger ones like coming to my shows and giving a care.

Joe and Dan and Michael. Big helps they are. My biggest, strongest supporters.

I don't live with any other musicians per se, so it's hard to be quiet when I come home after gigs. I wanna stay up all night or something. Scott taught me that, and not having a regular work schedule. This week, anyway.

I took a jazz workshop the summer after I graduated high school, and one of the teachers told us, warned us, really, about how it would be after gigs and there's no one to share/commiserate with. Sure there's the hanging out at the rehearsal space after we load back in, but at that point I find myself wishing I were somewhere else, but not sure where.

Someone I've dated recently commented that all my friends are old and boring. Isn't that rude and judgemental? It made me think, though. I've always hung out with people who were/are slightly or moreso older than I. I don't mind it at all.

Hey, at least I get up there and do it. I used to dream about it like it would only always be a dream. Now it's my reality. I have found an inner strength and maintained it.

Quod

What nurtures me destroys me...

Mes Larmes

It's time to be honest with myself for real. That's the hardest thing.

Oh sadness. Time to shed childish ideals about love and things.

Honesty sucks. Necessary evil. Bullshit.

If I continue, I could really get hurt.

How many times can you tell yourself it's over but hope it's not?

I have to choose between happy in the now and long-term. Can I commit to nothingness?

Unlocking tears from my face and I feel better already. They bear secret poisons that must be bled.