Last night in DC, and my old friend Sophie and I recorded this tour video blog for you.  It’s 3 AM, we must be lonely.

If you make it to the end, you get a prize.

Disclaimer: this is a very Oberlin-centric post, and in interests of getting it written fast I have dispensed with explaining very much about the campus.

Chicago was very kind to me on tour.  I stayed with my friend Marcy, who was gearing up for a big grad school comprehensive test.  It was actually perfect because we could hang out passively while she studied and I handled last minute tour preparation.  We went to see opera in Millenium Park and a 5 Rhythms dance party, but mostly we just worked.  Reflections on the Chicago shows: for both the local acts dropped out, so I got to play an extended set.  That’s a double-edged sword, obviously, because I want my music to reach new ears.  It was wonderful to see old friends, some of whom I haven’t seen in over ten years, since high school or before.

Last night I rode the train through the night to Elyria, OH.  I got a cab to Oberlin and arrived at 5:30 AM.  I walked around a cold, lonely, sleeping Oberlin in a groggy daze, taking it all in, letting the memories wash over me.  Walked around the new Kohl jazz building.  When some WOBC kids went into Wilder I followed them and laid down on the couch.  The security guard made me move downstairs after about forty minutes.  I napped there for awhile.  Then I went and wandered the Conservatory.  Ran into Dan Tacke, who was a composition student at the same time as I was, and is now teaching for a year here.  Same is the case for Bernard Matombo, who lived across the hall from me in Dascomb my freshman year and now teaches Creative Writing there.  Warmed up my voice in a practice room.  Dropped my things off at the Woodshed and played a noontime ‘open stage’ as a preview for my show tonight.  Also performing was Jan Miyake, one of my aural skills teachers, and it was difficult to jog her memory as to who I was, because on the first day of her class she had asked if we had any nicknames.  I jokingly had said “Lil’ Ree-Ree”, and she called me that for the rest of the semester.  It took us several minutes to remember what the nickname had been.

Then I went to Mudd and napped for a few more hours on the brown couches on the second level.  Finally wandered down to Wilder Bowl for TGIF.  Sat on the lawn by myself for awhile, watching the students.  Felt a bit like a ghost: not knowing anyone, not having a swipe card or a code to get on the network.  Then went to Harkness for pizza night and ate a few slices.  Talked to some sweet sophomore kids, one of whom is the COPAO co-coordinator, and tried to do a little inter-generational exchange of wisdom and reflections.  Now I’m about to go to the Woodshed to get set up to play.  I’ve got seven consecutive nights of shows, with a lot of travel in there too.

Truth be told, I feel a little glum to be in Oberlin.  Maybe it’s because it’s so short a stop and if I had more time I could meet some people and sort of feel like a part of it again.  But that would be regression, and of course I remember how ready I was to leave when I graduated.  I guess it boils down to this being one of those really clear ‘there went my youth’ moments for me, which aches a bit, as excited as I am for the path ahead of me.

Sorry to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming of tour adventures, but I feel compelled to explain myself.  If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably noticed that in addition to documenting my own musical journey and making goofball asides, I also like to throw in the odd political comment.  Yesterday I tweeted, “Anticipate a lot of smarmy, cynical tweets and retweets tomorrow. Sorry, just don’t trust people to have thoughtful, genuine things to say.”  It so happens that my phone autocorrected ‘snarky’ to ‘smarmy’ but pretty much that’s my sentiment.  Let me tell you why I feel this way.  Apologies if this gets pretty ranty and if I don’t bother with smooth transitions, but I feel like this is important to just get out on the page and into the world.

For most of our public officials, mentioning 9/11 has become little more than a political formality.  They go through the motions in ‘paying respects’ in nearly every speech, but I’m willing to bet that if you analyzed these passages, regardless of the party or policy stance of the politician, you would come up with a very limited palette of language.  And I think speechwriting is much like songwriting in this regard: if you really give a damn about being sincere, you’ll take pains to  distinguish your expression.

The sad thing is, that’s actually the more innocuous case.  When it’s not a knee-jerk disingenuous head-bowing, it’s to drum up social pressure to silence criticism of the wars we’re fighting.  And it’s really hard for me to think of a more offensive (or ironic) motive in invoking a tragedy than to quash opposition to more killing and reckless endangerment of American lives.  No, I don’t believe for one goddamned second that minimizing the loss of the lives of poor, young, disproportionately of-color Americans is at all a priority for the war hawks in our government.

Let me talk about the “never forget” crowd.  You have to be a special kind of asshole to toss some variant of this phrase around.  Look: if you lost someone on 9/11, or were afraid for your own or a loved one’s life on that day (specifically because you or they lived in New York or DC), you have a more direct experience of the trauma of the attacks than I do, and I honor that.  But if you’re like me, an American citizen living somewhere else in the country, glued to the TV and on the phone with loved ones, we have about the same level of connection with the tragedy.  We witnessed a traumatic, horrific event and our lives were at least somewhat changed by it.  But none of us has more of a right to identify with and claim ownership of this tragedy than any other.

For my own part, and I’ll keep this as brief as possible, 9/11 happened just a few weeks into the start of my first year of college, already a time of huge transition.  I felt an awful pit in my gut that day and for weeks, felt unsafe and disoriented as never before or since.  In the longer term, the political fallout that ensued made me much more acutely aware of my Arab lineage and for better or worse was hugely powerful in the shaping of my identity over the next several years.  How dare you insinuate that I could possibly forget?  How dare you try to hijack* this public trauma for your private ends?

Here’s the last thing that kills me.  I hope no one reading this believes that these wars we’ve been fighting have anything to do with actually making us any safer.  I’m not going to go on and on about the whole corporatist profiteering machine, but I will say that there is a public will that makes the industry of war possible or impossible.  Simply put, it’s my view that the legacy of 9/11 has been twisted to serve a perverse sense of retributive justice. The wars being fought are politically possible because of as a nation we want someone to pay for what has been lost.  But not only can this never be done, but we’ve lost so much more in the pursuit of that retribution.  Over 6,200 American lives alone have been lost in these wars, over double the toll of ten years ago.  So while I do mourn the life lost on that day, I mourn just as much the loss of whatever senses would have stopped us from throwing so many more lives away.

If you’ve made it all the way through this, thank you.  If I’ve offended you, you’re entitled to that, but I hope you’ve gleaned that I don’t make light of the actual events of 9/11 whatsoever.  And if you’re my friend, I hope you don’t feel that I’m at all dismissing your own experience of and response to these events.  It’s just that I think that the grief and remembrance process should always be thoughtful, instructive about our path forward, safe for all who have been affected by the tragedy, and untarnished by other motives.  And that is the opposite of what I typically perceive in our public discourse.

(*Yes, I noticed that after I wrote it.  No, I wasn’t trying to invoke the image of the actual hijacking of a plane.  Yes, I feel justified in leaving it in.  It’s the best word for what I’m trying to communicate and a reflexive objection to figurative language without regard to content is part and parcel of what I’m protesting.)

Hey folks,

Here’s an ill-prepared-for video of me reflecting on my stay in Amsterdam:

What I neglected to mention is my relative health, which has been hovering at around 85%.  Sharing a small flat (and a queen bed) with my brother and mother (one of us on the floor, only two in the bed at a time) who are also not in the best of health has made it hard to completely and permanently stave off a dry throat and chest congestion.  Plus a mildly impressive array of skin afflictions, but nothing an eczema-prone Hapa like me can’t handle.

What I mean is, this chic European version of family vacay has been peachy, but I’ll be glad to be back in the ol’ you ess of ‘Murka.

Note: This post was authored back in June and publication was suspended until Mr. Andrew put his music up on Bandcamp, which never happened.  I’m going to go ahead and publish now, hopefully putting pressure on Andrew to give the people what they want.

UPDATE: You can now purchase this EP, as well as “love and how to lose it.” HERE!

Okay folks, here goes for my first stab at reviewing a local release.  Last Friday my dear buddy Mr. Andrew had a birthday and put out his second solo EP His Guitar Is Noir.  Last year’s love and how to lose it was one of my favorites of the year hands-down, despite the fact that its six songs clocked in at only twelve and a half minutes.  In about the time it takes to listen to either half of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”, Andrew established himself as a masterful artisan in the skilled trade of Song.  His verse is pointed and economical, and delivered in a voice that might rise from a measured croon to a piteous howl and drop back down again within the same phrase.  His guitar playing reveals both the bright, balanced flourishes of his classical training and the Playing Too Damn Hard aesthetic of his punk tutelage.  He shares the same dogged compulsion that I have of refusing to let any song get away with being purely diatonic.  Simply put, Andrew is the kind of songwriter and performer I strive to be, as diverse and authentic in his output as his influences.

Before I proceed, let me divulge a critical bias: I find it exceedingly difficult to listen to most albums that feature only a solo performer all the way through, no matter the artist.  I can only get all the way through an entire Mountain Goats record if I make myself do it.  On love, Andrew avoided this pitfall by bringing in the Folksonomy’s own versatile Alex Stein on keys, adding lovely texture and color while not compromising any of the intimate, confessional quality of any piece.  Knowing that Guitar was a truly *solo* effort, this was the only doubt I had that I might not love this album as much as the last.

Guitar keeps the same number of tracks but shaves a minute off the time.  Some might be tempted to argue that this is too short for a release, but these people are fools.  This record is exactly the right length.  I think Andrew is doing for the EP what Marvin Gaye did for the full-length when he made What’s Going On, which is as short as some EPs.  I measure the value of music not by how much of my life it demands each time I revisit it, but by the places it takes me in that time.  In the tradition of the Saved By The Bell theme, Andrew strides through entire song forms at record speed.  Opening track “Feelin’ Lonely” covers two verses, a bridge and a third verse (with a creeping thematic variation in the guitar part) in under two minutes.  Two of the songs on Guitar (“Down The Sink” and “My Friends And I”) were recorded to tape, which adds a nice bit of warmth, charm and variation of color to the palette of the record without wearing out its welcome from a fidelity standpoint.

But what I love most of course are the lyrics.  There are despairing dirges like “Feelin’ Lonely”, but the most achingly bittersweet moments come in songs that might technically be categorized as ‘happy’ (“So Good, So Long” and “I’m Dumb, I Know”), but bear the scars of a heart abused too many times ever to forget or mend completely.  Reminds me a little of “High”, one of my favorite songs by The Cure.  But my personal favorite on the album might be “Lately I’m Unstable”, a meditation on the creative process that I find very relatable; though I’m usually grateful at the end of it, sometimes it’s so unclear whether I’m healing or harming myself.

What can I say.  I think Andrew knocked it out of the park with this record.  Maybe you expected me to say that, but that’s because you know I have great taste, not because you think I’m biased, right?  Do yourself a favor and acquire a copy, and listen to it.  A lot.  Thanks to the ‘fun size’ length, I usually spin the whole thing at least 2-3 times a day.

I didn’t want to cause any of my dear readers unnecessary concern, but I was pretty sleep-deprived those last couple weeks before leaving for tour.  I’m happy to report I’ve made some progress in that department since fleeing the country.  While I chose to devote my ten-hour flight to watching movies generously termed “classic” by KLM Airlines (Butch Cassidy, The Matrix, Ocean’s Eleven and Mrs. Doubtfire), upon arriving at my brother’s flat in the Museum District of Amsterdam I promptly slept seven hours until 7 PM.  Then we went out for a few hours, and then I slept eight more until the morning.  Then four more.  Then another two hour nap in the evening.

All good things considering my first appearance on tour was last night at a bar/cafe called ‘Skek in central Amsterdam.  The room was charming, with lots of wood and a balcony and little stage.  I played two sets, the first of which I felt was more solid than the second, both on my part and on the part of a certain critical mass of audience members being at least partway tuned in to the performance.  I don’t know, how does a lyrics-focused songwriter evaluate a show where the audience doesn’t speak the same language?   I don’t have a real way to gauge how much that difference was a barrier to engagement with my songs.  I have to guess that many of them listen to English-language music.  At any rate, this show was a first for a lot of elements that put me out of my comfort zone.  Performing on my own without a band, which I do sometimes, but it definitely feels less safe in a place where you know nobody.  Performing to a crowd of nearly complete strangers.  And performing with my hat!  You guys, I’m glad not to have it on my head when I’m riding the train or boarding the plane, but on that stage I sho’ nuff miss my hat.

Anyway, I don’t want you to think it went badly or anything.  It was a perfectly fine noisy bar show.  A good reminder of a lot of the best practices of performance I’ve learned over the past few years.  Stay present in the song, not in your head.  Don’t demand attention, give attention.

Now I’ve about a week of family time before heading to Chicago, where the real work starts.

Give or take.  Leaving my house.  Unsurprisingly, I still have a ton of shit left to do.  However, I’m excited to present to you my very first video blogging entry!  This was a fun new excursion, and somewhat less time consuming than agonizing over every word in a standard text blog post.  But I know that though video can be more engaging, it’s also limiting by virtue of the fact that one can’t skim it and get a sense of the whole, so I will keep mixing it up.  But here it is:

The one thing I’d like to add is this packing list, which I’m pretty proud of and will give you a sense of what my life will look like for the next two months.

Hey folks!  For the past several weeks I have been steeped in booking this tour for the fall.  If you haven’t heard the recent update, here’s the basic outline:

1. August 26: Birthday / tour kickoff / solo EP release show.  (More about this soon!  Save the date!)
2. August 29: Set sail for (fly to) Amsterdam to visit with my brother and mom for a week and a half, and hopefully play a show there, thus making this an INTERNATIONAL tour.
3. September 9: fly back to Chicago.
4. September 10 – October 25: Tour this damn country by riding those rails!  Want to see my rail pass?  Here it is:

So here’s where I need your help.  Right now I have one show set up, September 29 in Brooklyn with the fantastic Brittain Ashford.  One city down, twenty-one to go. Here’s my tentative schedule, though it’s all flexible:

Chicago, 9/10 – 9/15

Oberlin, 9/16

Pittsburgh, 9/17

DC, 9/18

Baltimore, 9/21 – 9/23

New York, 9/24 – 9/30

Boston, 10/1 – 10/2

(Portland, ME somewhere in here?)

Providence, 10/3

Philadelphia, 10/4 – 10/5

Atlanta, 10/6

Athens, 10/7

New Orleans, 10/8 – 10/10

San Antonio, 10/11

Austin, 10/12

Tucson, 10/13 – 10/14

Los Angeles, 10/15 – 10/18

Eugene, 10/19

Seattle, 10/20 – 10/22

Bellingham, 10/23

(Vancouver, BC?  Am I crazy?  INTERNATIONAL, WHAT)

Portland, 10/24 – 10/25

Do you book shows in any of these places, or know anyone who does?  Do you know artists local to these areas in the lyrical folk/rock vein, who might be so gracious as to invite an out-of-towner to share a bill (so I can play to more than just friends and their friends)?  I’d be honored and gratified if you’d share tips with me, or write a message of introduction.  Feel free to chime in with a comment here, or email me at shareef@shareefali.com.  Thanks a lot folks!  This shit is happening and it’s going to kill.  Believe that.

Much love,

Shareef Ali

Tonight the venerable JJ Schultz will be doffing the mantle of Host of the most popular (and best) open mic in the Bay Area, the Hotel Utah on Monday nights.  There’s not a lot I can say in tribute to the man that hasn’t already been said, but I’d like to write a few words anyway expressing my appreciation for all that he’s done for the local music scene.

I first came to the Utah in September 2009.  While my general impression after my first visit was that the talent was of a generally higher caliber at the Utah, no one performing that night impressed me more than JJ.  He played “Someone Who’s Not Me”, and everything about it floored me: the sparse, lilting feel of the guitar part, the deceptive distance of the second-person voice in the lyrics, and most of all his trembling, haunted voice.  I looked forward to seeing him perform every week, and generally came to look up to him as a sort of father figure in the scene.  I was elated when he asked me to be the first featured performer of 2010, which marked a great beginning to an amazing, fulfilling year in music for me.  It was a huge rite-of-passage moment for me starting to feel like “I’m making a name for myself, I could actually get somewhere with this.”  I know it’s the same for a lot of other folks too.

JJ is expert at deflecting compliments and downplaying the tremendous amount of work he puts in at the Utah on a weekly basis.  I once heard him remark to someone that the site was a lot of work to set up but now ‘kind of runs itself’, when I know there’s no way it takes any less than at least a few hours each week to chop up and tag over five hours of recordings.  For all of us in this community who become successful, however we might define it, I think these recordings will be a truly priceless document.  For me, theutah.org is a better journal than this blog will probably ever be.  As for how great the Utah is as a whole, he’ll probably want to defer credit to all the musicians who come week after week, and those who came before him, and of course he’s mostly right.  But with the exceptions of the wonderfully talented Slim Critchlow and Bridget Canfield, nobody else recognized the magic and potential in the scene and then made such an enormous investment of time, talent, love and MONEY fer chrissakes to turn a great open mic into an invaluable resource for budding songwriters.

Though I know Brendan Getzell will do a great job as host and eventually fill out the shoes quite well, I will miss JJ running the show a lot.  I’ll miss his good humor and “Ahhhhh…”s, his quizzical looks or appreciative nods after hearing a new song for the first time, him telling some douchey heckler, “I invite you to get the fuck out of here.”  I hope having his Monday nights freed up lets him get some good rest and gives him more time to spend with his kiddo, his day job, and whatever else he cares about more than all of us.  Kidding, JJ!  Seriously though, I have only one demand in order to honor your departure, and that is that you put out another album already.  Give the people what they want.

Much love and respect, buddy.  Also, if I fuck up your song tomorrow because I stayed up too late on the interwebs, I’m sorry.

Hullo, folks!

So we had an awesome album release last month and that was all dandy.  There’s been one show since then, an acoustic duo set with me and Guy at Kaleidoscope.  But a week from Friday is the real next show, by which I mean it’s where we’ll unveil…The New Radical Folksonomy!

Let me be frank here.  Erika and Jay were (are) pretty darn near irreplaceable.  I’ve had a few ideas floating around about people whom I could bring in to fill in those respective roles, and have even tried things out with a few people.  So far nothing’s stuck, but you know what?  A) Searching for new band members is tiring, like job hunting or online dating and B) more importantly, the longer I’ve had to get used to the idea of having a more stripped-down, rock and roll line-up, the more I’ve grown to kind of like it.  And now we’ve had a few really good practices and I’m feeling really good about the direction of things.

What does it sound like?  Well, number one, we’re coming right out the gates with no less than THREE new songs on this show.  All written this year, after I had already gotten the news that Erika and Jay would be departing.  So they all work really well with the group we’ve got.  Now, one of the things I was most self-conscious about going forward was not having another singer to pretty up the vocal side of things.  But then, lo, I happen to have two talented singers in Guy Brown and Alex Stein (significantly more competent than myself, really).  And true, there’s something uniquely charming about the male/female vocal pairing; but having all dudes singing is a nice sound too, especially if you do it in three parts, which is something that we’re going to start having a lot more of.  I’ve actually given Alex the mantle of “vocal harmonies musical director”, since he has a knack for figuring that stuff out.

Honestly what I’m most concerned about it how to rearrange our ‘classic’ repertoire without the female vocal and keyboard elements.  But I think we’ll figure it out by degrees, even if it means temporarily retiring some songs.  Would I still consider bringing new people in to fill those roles? Maybe, but I’m kind of going back to the mindset I had in the early days of the Folksonomy when it was just me, Guy, Erika and Jay.  My mentality then was, “I’ve got a good core group of people, and if other people are going to be a good fit, it’s worth waiting to find them.”  Same now.  We’re going to be fine.

Anyway, you should totally come to the show next Friday: hell of intimate dinner show at my place in West Oakland.  Two achingly good solo performers (Wolf Larsen and Trans Van Santos) and a mother of a female supergroup, Fox & Woman.  Gonna be the jam!  That is all.