I’m preparing for a tour starting this late fall. I’m recording for my CSA program. I’m lacking tools to emphasize and play with rhythm, noisemakers and accentuators. I could duct tape my own bottles of rice, staple plates of beans, and decorate them “funky” and “fun,” but that sounds like lonely business to me.
A more personal approach: Send me some of yours? Dusty shakers you have lying around, clickers made of spoons, or any bright, small, and shaky idea that comes to your mind to contribute to my budding plans for a tour. I’ll delightedly bring them with me on stage. For me, small would be a bit better!
Til October 28, 2019, I’m at P.O. Box 1785, Mackinac Island, MI 49757. Beyond that please write email@example.com to find out where to send things.
The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, Michigan, symbolizes inequality. One of the island’s largest employers, most of its workers come to the U.S. on work-related visas to help their families survive. It blows my mind to imagine the difference between the lives of those who spend hundreds of dollars each night per person to stay here, the people who work to keep it running, and their family members around the globe.
Working on Mackinac myself, I snuck into the cool, lush garden of the Grand Hotel to record songs, mostly songs about hard times. Boat horns and pressure to finish measures quickly in order to shoo mosquitoes color these recordings. The environment speaks to me about persisting inequality in the arrangement of our world.
My Grand Hotel Garden Recordings include:
This summer I returned to Mackinac Island, MI, working for the state park and focusing on the side on song. I visited here when a child and worked here for a summer when I was 19.
Where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron connect, the Straits of Mackinac feel wide open, and they hold history, from indigenous sacred usage and military conflict and takeovers to the annual policy conferences held here today. Today, this tourist destination showcases seething and converging consumerism, militarism, and nationalism colliding with immigration, racism, and rural poverty. Here I am with my heart open . . . grateful for the constant birdsong, bright yellow snails, trillium, and earth inhabiting this island as well.