CHAPTER ONE: YOU ARE WORTH YOUR WEIGHT IN GOLD

On the evening of April 29th, accompanied by a few good friends and even more acquaintances, I went to go see Elvis Perkins in Dearland at the Horseshoe. Up until the day of the event, even though I'd seen him a few years ago and was blown away then, I was a little skeptical about this show. I was slightly less enthused over Dearland (the album) than I was about Ash Wednesday, which is an album I hold very close to my heart.

But as mentioned I got really stinking into the record that day. I listened to it until I discovered every nuance, every kept secret, all the little creases filled with blood and spilt liquor. And I fucking loved it! Now I can't remember why I was unsure about Perkins putting on a good show, I can't remember a cent.

Wearing some paisley shirt under a suit-jacket and a bright orange toque, I scoped him out during the opening band's set: he was talking to the merchandise guy, seeing if he had some extra cash for a drink. So I asked what he wanted and bought him some whiskey. (After the set he would come up to me and offer me a drink, though it wasn't as nice as the one I bought for him-- understandably.)

The set was glorious! He seemed to be in good spirits, even though he's somewhat hard to read, and his band was having a lot of fun. He played alternate versions of most of the Dearland record and only two or three from his first record. And apposed to having twelve-string acoustic-string-- what he toured with before-- he was armed with a string of five electric/hollow-bodied guitars, most notably a Fender Starcaster! What a bizarre guitar... upon seeing it I realized why exactly they decided to stop making it back in the early '80s. The lack of material from Ash Wednesday along with the no-acoustic instruments upset a few of the people I had gone to see the show with, but they enjoyed what they got. I think by the end of the show they understood that Perkins is the type of person who wants to keep you guessing as he goes along. That's one of my favourite things about him!

I think by the end of the night I was pretty famously drunk, which was cool by me. It was a very inspirational set.

PUSHING MOUNTAIN COUCH POTATO BLUES

Fuck I've got so much to tell you, it's ridiculous. Life-changing events, dreams, moments, stories. I need to sit you down in my backyard over a cup of green tea and just go, but there's not enough time. I have decided that this is the summer of Spencer. Before you judge that sentence as being conceded and self-centered, wait until I explain myself. A vague re-cap, to be deconstructed and explained in full:

// Perkins in Dearland at the horseshoe.
// the song I wrote the next day while watching Will & Jeff paint a house.
// the keg party that started it all, and forgetting my hat/ring.
// obtaining all Talking Heads LPs on vinyl from the new store in Markham.
// 'high hills' ep release party at the Horseshoe.
// my 23rd birthday presents: new microphone, new camera, and a pair of underwear.
// getting drunk with Harrison & Simon, holy fuck/jesus christ tears.
// "change my hair-style so many times now."
// David Byrne.
// the rest is noise & arboretum (thank you Eunice!)
// NINE (9) new Woodward Company songs, including untitled three-part suite/sweet.
// fake blood at wrongbar for nxne, that night, etc.
// making signs, fabulous yawn solo show, the release of 'this machine...'
// falling in love and saying hello, falling out and saying goodbye.

I'm in Chicago right now: big open eyes taking it all in. What my memory won't retain my camera will, thankfully. Hopefully today I will find the Chicago Music Exchange (as referred by Graham) and get my ukulele re-strung by a professional. Then songs might start coming!

Here are some lyrics to an old song that I recently re-visited and added to, the title of which is at the top of this entry:

Pushing a rock all the way to the top
My palms are bleeding from the blistering rough
And agreed are my feet it’s no easy feat
Keeping me company on this journey
The couch absorbs the sound of you getting back to me
I do not see it until the morning
I was in the kitchen honey cleaning up the sink
My blood and all your breadcrumbs
My cart’s broken wheel lies abandoned in the field
Couldn’t leave it a land-mark made sure it was concealed
And my horse well he tried he stomped until he died
So it’s me only me up on high
The sound of passing cars is what you need to fall asleep
Not for some country mouse like me
I was in the backyard honey burying my head
Curse words muttered at the worms
I caught a rattlesnake sneaking on by
It’s highly improbable but try as you might
To that I just grinned don’t expect to win
But I’m never simply never going home again
When my brother I told him and the clothes I was folding
He smiled cheek-to-cheek saw the devil’s weight I’m holding
Nearly fucked it all when mum wept bet dad doesn’t know yet
Now it’s me only me until the end
The kettle whistles out I cannot hear what you just said
Something about the steps I’ve lead
I was in the high hills one time tripping over you
When I stray far from my house I’m bound to lose
I caught a grizzly bear roaring about you
It’s going to rip her heart out it’s true
Well I kept up my chin she isn’t an option
I’m never simply never going home again
by spencer maceachern
© 2009 nosebleed noise (SOCAN)


Here's a Richard Swift video that sums up exactly how I'm feeling. We'll talk again soon, and that's a promise.