Wishing My Life Away

There's an old saying in my family: "don't wish your life away." My great-great-aunt told my mom this every time she would say "I wish it was tomorrow" as a little girl. So, I received the same reprimand growing up; whenever I wanted something in the future now, I heard "don't wish your life away."

This is an inconvenient maxim for an impatient kid. Or impatient adult. Or any singer/songwriter.

I'm constantly wishing my life away. It's not that I don't agree with the idea behind it (I do). It's that wishing my life away is part of my job. I live in six month intervals, and part of each interval consists of planning the next. In many ways, I'm constantly spending the present thinking about the future. It's not impatience, or obsession (although I've got both in spades); it's simply part of the gig.

For example, I just spent three hours looking at a map and a calendar. I'm going to tour a little in the spring, and a lot in the summer. Touring (well) demands advance planning. Venues book at least 2 months ahead, and the further in advance you plan, the better your chances are. Additionally, you need to keep competing interests in mind:
--When are the big festivals (SXSW, Coachella, Bonaroo, Newport, etc.)?
--What other tours are passing through what parts of the country, and when (Warped, Lolapalooza, Lilith Fair, etc.)?
--When do college kids leave town?
--When do college kids get back?
--When are folks most likely to vacation?
--When can I start/wrap/spend my time best on the road?
--If I meet up with Lilith Fair what are the chances I can successfully follow Emmylou Harris for a week?

You get the picture. There are a million things to consider, and they're all way down the road. I'm not complaining: this is a part of the gig that I really enjoy. It plays into my OCD tendencies, my hyper-organizational habits, and my characteristic impatience. I love the future--it always sounds good to me--so I enjoy trying to shape it.

That's the upshot of wishing your life away as a musician: if you're Type A, there's always something else to plan (after the summer tour, when can I get in the studio for another album, would that interfere with CMJ, what would be an ideal time for another release, etc.). It's a wonderland of organizational exercises.

The downside is that time goes fast. Really fast. Before you know it, it's February 1st and you've charted out your year through Thanksgiving. When you're booking tours four months in advance and planning for another album as you're currently releasing one, two years can melt together in a hurry. So much of being a singer/songwriter is solitary (writing, traveling, rehearsing, map-staring, etc.); days can pass slowly. But the months--and years--go fast. Too fast.

Meanwhile, I'm still staring at this map and calendar, wishing my life away, and wondering where to go.

Where should I go?

I could go anywhere. When a tour is set, booked, and actually happening, it's obviously fun: there's nothing like being in a new city and new venue every night and sharing music with a fresh crowd. Running on empty, running behind, racing to venues, getting lost, taking highways, talking to locals, eating bad food--every day is its own uniquely memorable experience because it has to be. There's no way to spend a month on the road and not leave a part of yourself out there, and not bring a piece of everything else back home. That's the beauty of touring: you're always moving, and always moving somewhere else. If you're prone to looking ahead (as I am), it's perfect; you can be thrilled in the moment while anticipating the next one.

But the underrated joy is the one that comes now: staring at a blank map, a blank calendar, and knowing it could be anything. There is no logistical stress , no car trouble, no indigestion--just a perfect plan on paper, spread out before me like a road with no end. If the Dad from Calvin and Hobbes taught me anything (other than "being cold builds character" and "the sun sets in Flagstaff"), it's that the anticipation of something can be as good as the thing itself. That's the point: looking at a map and realizing you can go anywhere. It can be anything.

So, where should I go?

Where should I go?

If you've got a favorite venue in your town, let me know. If you know of any radio shows or podcasts or music blogs in your city, pass them along! Help me fill the calendar and write the perfect plan on paper. Help me live four months out. Help me wish my life away.

And if my great-great-aunt complains, tell her it's my job.

LA Diary, Part 4 (Up In the Air)

Friday, Jan 15, 3:25PM
I’m on Larchmont street, which is kind of like Hillsboro Village in Nashville, if Hillsboro Village only had franchised coffee shops, and all of them were next door to each other. It might be the caffeine capital of the world. It might be the best.

No, it’s definitely the best, because I just saw The Red-Headed-Woman-From-Old School-ER. I want to ask her if she keeps up with Omar Epps. I want to tell her that I never watched the show after they killed his character. I want to tell her a great many things, but type this sentence instead.

Friday, Jan 15, 3:58PM
While playing guitar and singing in my friend’s apartment, I hear a strange noise. I stop playing and listen. I think I hear singing and faint drumming (like someone banging on a kitchen counter) somewhere below me, but I can’t be sure. Maybe it's someone next door watching Behind the Music.

Friday, Jan 15, 5:59PM
I’m due at the Hotel Cafe by 6:30, and I’m leaving from an apartment one mile from the venue. In theory, thirty-one minutes is enough time to travel one mile. In theory.

In actuality, I witness the type of traffic jam that can only be described as “foreign,” the kind of hardly-controlled chaos you see on the Travel Channel when the host visits Egypt. It’s enough to make a man crazy. It’s enough to make anyone forsake driving. It’s enough to make my gracious pilot swear like a longshoreman. Thankfully, it’s not enough to make me late.

The Hotel Cafe is a venue that has become nationally renowned in the past several years, due to the breakthrough of so many LA-based singer/songwriters (Cary Brothers, Joshua Radin, Sara Bareilles, etc.). At first, it was the venue of choice because it’s an extremely well-run and artist-friendly venue with amazing sound and a great, intimate vibe. Soon after, the Hotel Cafe started booking its own nationwide tours featuring its most prominent regulars, putting out compilations, and becoming a star in its own right.

With good reason.

The space is remarkable: low lighting, reds and browns, oak and brass, open sightlines. It's big enough to host a real party, but built for natural intimacy. It’s also achieved the highest status that any mid-sized venue can attain: it’s such a great environment, and has such a proven track record of talent booking, people just come regardless of who’s playing each night. There’s always a crowd.

These are my favorite places to play.

I’m on in one hour.

Friday, Jan 15, 8:52PM
To call the sound in this room “great” is to call Usain Bolt “quick.” It's no coincidence that my favorite venues are the venues with best sound; there is no overstating how much this matters to a performer onstage. Lots of venues can swing decent sound in the main room, but can't replicate it onstage. Blame it on bad acoustics, inexperienced sound guys, worse equipment, or anything else. But when the sound guy gets it, and the room has wonderful natural acoustics, an artist never wants to leave.

I never want to leave.

Eventually, I will. I did stop playing when I was supposed to. Although there was a point where I wondered what would happen if I refused to stop playing. Do they have security? Could I take them? Would the audience appreciate a singer/songwriter who finishes his set with an acoustic version of “Stairway to Heaven,” and a barfight?

But I’m not leaving just yet. I’m not leaving yet because Steve Reynolds is playing something that can best be described as “indescribably Celtic,” and “wholly gorgeous,” as his accompanying guitarist makes noises that come from somewhere and someplace far away. And now a bearded, hooded guy from the crowd jumps onstage and joins him on the next chorus, singing high harmony on a vocal mic that (of course) was ready for him, and now I’m thinking, “my God, that guy’s got some vocal power on some really high notes,” and now I’m realizing, “that’s Cary Brothers,” and now I’m not going anywhere, ever.

Friday, Jan 15, 10:17PM
I think I just signed a development deal with a German label. You're reading the new Hasselhoff.

Friday, January 15, 11:44PM
Riding bitch in a new best friend’s sedan, crammed in the back like high schoolers, Kelly Clarkson on blast. Sometime, someday, in the very near future, the jetlag and time difference and adrenaline and caffeine will all add up and I’ll collapse. My muscles will relax as if on tranquilizers, my eyes will lower like lead curtains, and I’ll dream for hours. I'll rest, eventually.

But not yet. Every time of night feels young. There are new best friends to see, and music to blast. I’ve got plenty in the tank, and one more night.

Saturday, January 16, 8:27AM
If someone came into this room right now and demanded I swim five miles, or fight a tiger, or talk to Tom Brokaw, I think I could do it. I’ve had no coffee, and I’m wired. Is this what it’s like to be well-rested?

If so, I might move to LA.

I hear someone’s TV downstairs. I hear cars on North Rossmore like wave after wave. The city is moving, but slowly. Dogs abound. Strollers meet sidewalk. And I want to play another concert, right now, for anyone.

Saturday, January 16, 12:01PM
I keep seeing places I recognize from The Hills. I don’t know whether I should love this fact, or be ashamed of myself. In the spirit of compromise, I announce to the car every Hills-noteworthy sight I recognize, and explain with a zealot’s fervor why Laguna Beach was one of my favorite television series of all-time, and why I’ll always have residual love for its offspring.

Look, Milk!

For such a granola town, there sure are a lot of chicken-n-waffles and mac-and-cheese options around here. Even LA-ers love their comfort food. Everyone needs a hug.

Saturday, January 16, 1:08PM
Two older gentlemen downstairs ask me if I was the one singing yesterday. I say, "yes sir, did I disturb you?" "Oh no, we were playing along!"

So that was the Behind the Music at 3:58 yesterday: my new band of kitchenette-drumming Hungarians.

Rock!

Saturday, January 16, 2:14PM
I’m at the Arclight, about to see Up In the Air with a friend. Arclight, for those of you unaware (like me, four minutes ago) is like a movie theater on steroids. It’s not so much a fancy version of a normal movie theater; it’s like if Steven Spielberg made his home theater bigger, and open to the public. It almost feels like a cathedral to cinema, if cathedrals were shiny and sold gourmet popcorn. The staff here has all the warmth, hustle, and shared knowledge of museum employees. There are fourteen theaters, all huge, immaculate, sparsely populated, and filled with uberplush, royal blue reclining chairs. I’ve never seen armrests this big.

Of course, Hollywood’s a movie town. It stands to reason that they take their movie-going experience seriously. Nashville pays similar respect to its country music venues except those preserve history rather than honor modernity (replace "uberplush reclining chairs" with "prehistoric wooden benches").

Anyway, I'm excited. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in the theaters. When did Nell come out?

Saturday, Jan 16, 5:09PM
Up In the Air is somewhere between “really solid” and “completely awesome.” After one viewing, I’ll call it “borderline great.”

As my Brother mentioned, it’s slightly weird that this might win Best Picture, but Wonderboys was a relative afterthought upon its release. They occupy a similar stylistic space, explore some similar themes, and have a comparable scope.

The lesson, as always: Clooney’s still Clooney. And you’re not.

Of course, what’s really to be learned from Up In the Air is that I’m a woefully inefficient traveler. Pros pack with joyless, military precision. My suitcase looks like someone once packed it well, stuck a badger inside, and let it fight its way out.

And I always, ALWAYS forget my toothbrush. Nobody has bought more toothbrushes than I have.

Saturday, Jan 16, 8:11PM
I’m sitting at the gate at LAX. It's dark, and everything is quiet. Nothing is on TV, there is no musak. Everyone’s anticipating a dim, long flight against the earth’s pull, back to the right coast. Everyone looks asleep with their eyes open.

Then, they're jolted back to reality:

A crowd of recently landed travelers come down the concourse, and suddenly a yell comes from security. “Stop!” Three security officials immediately instruct the coming crowd to stop moving. One person literally scratches their nose and is reprimanded: “Stop moving.” Everyone stays still, frozen in confused horror. I have no idea what’s happening, but for some reason grip my guitar case like a weapon. Just as quickly, the same voice booms from the security checkpoint: “Okay!” Everyone moves again. People finish their sentence. A little dog barks from inside its carrying case. Something--and nothing--never happened.

This reminds me: they’re incredibly thorough at LAX. Nobody thought twice about the contents of my guitar case in JFK, but Rose’s body bag got the full cavity search here. The woman even asked why I had a 9-volt battery.

“Because the guitar is electric-acoustic.”

“Why do you have three of them, then?”

“Because batteries die, and when they do, I love to replace them. I’m cruelly unsentimental about my batteries’ deaths.”

“Where are you going tonight?”

“On a plane. And that plane is going to New York.”

“And is New York home?”


I think about this question: Memphis has always been home. Sometimes Blacksburg, Virginia--the place I was born--feels like home. When I visit relatives in West Virginia, or North Carolina, or anywhere, I typically feel at home. New York is where I live, and what I love.

And then I realize that she’s not asking existentially; she’s asking because I could be taking the red-eye to New York for nefarious purposes, my undies chock full of bombs, my gig bag loaded with wildly explosive 9-volt batteries.

“New York is home.”

She zips up the gig bag. “You’re free to go.”

And then I realize: I’m headed home.

Saturday, Jan 16, Suspended In Time PM
The red-eye back to New York. I’m back in seat 22, which (again) is somehow positioned near the front of the plane. Now I’m couched between two American girls, rather than anchoring two Swolish girls. One of them smells like she went out with Lucille 3 last night. The other can best be described as “hippie chic.”

There’s a 34% chance as I type this that either of them could see it.

As a matter of fact, this whole plane smells like hippie. Which, I think, means “Bermuda grass, Indian food, and sadness.” Everyone's eyes are glossed over. Even the flight attendant mails in her pre-flight performance with a Deion-Sanders-playing-for-the-Redskins level of indifference.

It’s Saturday night, people! It’s the red eye from LA to NYC! There have to be at least three semi-famous people in first class! Maybe even the Red-Headed-Woman-From-Old-School-ER! Maybe she's splitting a split of bubbly with Omar Epps! We should be celebrating. We should be dancing in the aisles.

Somewhere behind me, a man snores.

This plane feels less like an airborne club and more like a DMV.

Sunday, Jan 17, Suspended In Time AM
The wireless on this plane is busted. The televisions on this plane are busted. There is so little to do that the woman across the aisle has taken up origami. She’s making what is either a flower, or a crown, or the biggest pick-a-color-pick-a-number game of all time. If it’s the third option, I want to sit next to her. I want to play that game. Anything is better than sleep.

I listen to the BS Report. I listen to Memphis Sports Live ("like it or not, the most influential sports talk radio show in Memphis"). I listen to the Thrills, hoping to hear some sun. It's either 10PM or 4AM, or anywhere in between. It's been night forever. The Thrills sing about Santa Cruz, and I'm somewhere over Ohio. I turn off the music and hear the recycled air hissing. In my mind, it's June; in my most recent memories, I'm in an endlessly bright place. But here and now, I'm flying over the night, and over the winter, and I can't get warm.

Sunday, Jan 17, 6:01AM
Back in the back of a big yellow taxi, heading home to the East Village. The sun hasn't peeked out on the horizon yet, but the sky's shifted to a navy blue. It's warm enough outside (38 degrees) that the driver has his window cracked. It feels sub-zero to me.

Just over a year ago, I was in a cab at sunrise. I was heading to JFK, back to Nashville. I knew I was moving from Nashville, and was deciding between New York or Los Angeles. I had just spent a weekend in New York, playing a record release party, seeing old friends, falling in love with a new place, and feeling homesick for a place I couldn't point to. The car wound its way through its desolate path to the airport, the sun broke the sky wide open, and I realized that New York wasn't a scary place at all, that it was a place I needed to see again, and soon. Several months later, I moved here.

Now, coming home from JFK at sunrise, after playing a record release party in a different city. I spent three days seeing old friends, loving a new place, living this snapshot of a life I very nearly chose, and feeling homesick for a place I can point to, like the red dot on the Delta "flight-tracker" monitor. Like the little circle in lower Manhattan on the cab's backseat screen, a tiny fixed place I'm always moving toward, however slowly. I've spent all night racing forward in time, against the earth's rotation. Half a world away, the sun and moon raced, chasing to meet me in some unknown tomorrow. And now I'm minutes from my little red dot, and the time has flown without me knowing. It is tomorrow. The earth still moves, despite me, and I'm finally tired.

The sun isn't up yet, but the sky's ready.

LA Diary, Part 3 (Past the Breakers)

Friday, Jan 15, 7:32AM
Usually I wake up to the sound of the University of Memphis State University Fighting Basketball Tigers’ fight song. Today, I’m waking up to waves. In my dream-state of semi-consciousness, I think they’re waves. They’re actually cars passing on Vine, but from my open window they sound like waves breaking on the beach.

It’s a great way to wake up.

There’s something in the air here. I can smell it right now, immediately after waking up, and remember it from my last trip. Los Angelonians might say, “yes, it’s smog.” But compared to other places (e.g., New York), the air feels fresh, clear, heightened somehow. Like the super-oxygen they pump into casinos to keep people awake and energized. If I lived here, I’d never wake up in a bad mood.

I’d also never get any work done.

Friday, Jan 15, 9:22AM:
I’m standing on a street that isn’t a street, in the middle of a neighborhood that isn’t a neighborhood. I’m walking around the Warner Brothers lot with my friend Ben, who works on the ABC sitcom, The Middle. Everything I see is real in the sense that it’s physically there, but unreal in the sense that it’s artificial.

On my left is the fountain from the opening credits of Friends. On my right is a “NYC block” of brownstones. Just ahead is Dennis the Menace’s house. He lives next door to the folks from Little House on the Prairie. Then, the Hechs’ from The Middle. Then, the house from American Beauty, which is also where Clark Griswald lived. It is an idyllic American residential block: the lawns are manicured, the houses freshly painted, the weather pristine. It is a perfect scene. It is a ghost town.

And now I’m on the set, watching everyone prepare for the day’s shooting. I kid you not: I’m standing under a ladder, and a black cat just walked in front of me. Horseshoe, anyone?

I’m briefly reunited with my first true love: driving. I’ve got Ben’s car for the day, and I’m back where I belong: behind the wheel of the great American automobile (if that’s a Saab), windows down, singing with bad FM radio, shamelessly judging the drivers around me. I might take the long way home. I might end up in Vegas. I might move into this car.

And just like that, I understand Jewel.

Friday, Jan 15, 1:13PM:
I need sunglasses.

Out past the breakers,
CM

LA Diary, Part 2 (Took My Chances On a Big Jet Plane)

Thursday, Jan 14, 9:37AM
Did New York sleep in? Was there a sporting event/weather catastrophe/Billy Joel concert I didn’t hear about? I made it from my apartment in the East Village to Gate 22 in JFK in 57 minutes. How is this possible? I caught the first cab I saw. There was--wait for it--almost no traffic between lower Manhattan and the airport. And Kennedy can only be described as “desolate” right now. I won’t lie to you, I feel like I’m Hancock. What’s happening here?

Meanwhile, I’ve got Todd English, his Bonfire, 16oz of Starbucks workjuice, MSNBC, and about 14 people at my gate to keep me company. I’m sitting still, but I’m inching toward Los Angeles. I can feel it getting closer.

(They’re showing clips of Haiti on the news right now, and everyone’s watching.)

I love airports. You know those people who loathe traveling, get stressed in airports, or wracked with anxiety when flying? I’m not one of those people. I’ve probably flown 34 times in my life, and I always act like a third grader when the plane takes off and I can see the toy houses and cars diminish below me. I love looking out the window and saying, “oh, there’s Georgia, or Idaho, or whatever,” and knowing it’ll be gone in twenty minutes. I judge the flight crew by their takeoffs and landings, and relish the moment when the plane first touches down and you actually realize how fast you’re going.

(The news shows footage from the Haitian presidential palace--the ruined opulence, the broken pillars--a 2-year old at the gate is crying.)

It’s not so much the novelty of taking off in one place, reading a magazine, then landing in a different world (although that’s still a novelty to me); it’s that you don’t really see the trip happen. If you’re driving, you’re always sliding into your destination, and mentally tracking the journey; you watch the land pass until, eventually, you’re there. But flying skips the tedium of visual transition. Of course, I feel the same way about the subway. I still can’t believe that I can go underground, wait fifteen minutes, and come up in Spanish Harlem. It’s like really slow teleportation.

As much as I love flying, I love airports more. I fully recognize that this is not normal. I enjoy any place where there’s a set, finite, pre-determined amount of time that you’re there, especially if there’s not much to do. It makes me want to work, or think, on something I typically wouldn't. “Oh, I’ve got 40 minutes to kill...I’ll re-organize my photos while listening to Teenage Fanclub and watching the kid in front of me run around like a drunkard.”

Airports are awesome.

(On cue, they cut to a story of a kid who couldn’t bring his pet monkey to school. The 2-year old is laughing. People check their phones.)

But here’s the rub: the second my flight is delayed, and the length of time I’ll be at the airport isn’t set, finite, and pre-determined, I want nothing more than to leave and get home. Suddenly, I hate airports. I only like them as long as there’s a known expiration date--like dairy products, country music stars, and some relationships.

I remember flying home from Oxford one summer, getting to Charlotte at night, waiting for my plane to Little Rock, and realizing that I might be delayed overnight. The walkway that connects the gate to the plane wasn’t detaching. The problem wasn’t that we couldn’t board the plane, the problem was that the plane couldn’t leave the gate. I had been traveling for what seemed like 2 days. I was exhausted, freezing cold, homesick, bored stiff, and suddenly facing the prospect a 14-hour delay. Just when word started getting around the gate, the pilot emerged from one of those “Do Not Enter” doors with a crowbar. He disappeared down the Skywalk. He came back 8 minutes later, tossed the crowbar toward the desk like Bonds after hitting a homer, and said, “let’s go.”

And what I’m trying to tell you is this: I have never loved any stranger more in my life than I loved that pilot in that moment.

Meanwhile, I’m in an airport, typing to you. I’ve got a destination (California), an expiration date (1 hour), and the sun’s rising behind me. There are clear skies. The people at my gate are fixed to the television. The earth is always moving.

Thursday, Jan 14, 12:03PM
Unless it’s not. I’m stuck in NY. Some part of the plane’s nose was damaged when we pulled away from the gate. So, we’re essentially waiting on a new plane, or nose job.

Where is the Charlotte pilot when I need him???

In other news, I am awesome at:
--Eating barbeque
--Talking about pop music from the mid-90’s
--Watching football
--Jinxing my own flights

Ugh.

Thursday, Jan 14, Suspended In Time (PM)
Well, I’m on the plane, the plane took off, and now I’m somewhere east of the Mississippi. The plane got a successful nose job (auspicious start to an LA trip, I think), and now I’m typing on a tray table that may or may not give out at any moment.

There’s nothing to do on a plane besides sit, stare, listen to music, read, sleep, and watch people. I can’t sleep--ever, really--but especially on planes. I can’t read--ever, really--but especially on moving vehicles. So, I invite you to join me in my sitting/staring/listening to music/people-watching experience!

Let’s take a quick tour:

At 12 o’clock: The aisle. I’m in 22C, which is (weirdly) near the front. So I’m on the aisle. The plane is packed. I heard one guy, while boarding (the second time) say it’s “packed like a can of sardines.” I’ve heard this before, but never in my life seen a can of sardines. I’ll take his word for it.

The Sounds:
I’m listening to one of three playlists I made for this trip. They are:
1) "There." You guessed it: a playlist of music tailor-made for a trip to California, and the mix I’m listening to.
2) "Back." What I’ll listen to on the return to NY in the middle of the night, Saturday.
3) "California." A giant hodgepodge of my favorite California artists, songs about California, or anything else I’m into right now that fits the trip and/or season.

Right this second: Counting Crows, “Daylight Fading.”

The Sights:
An aisle, and a poorly curtained view of first class. Is that stewardess Marisa Miller? Are they serving duck?!? Capitalist pigs!

The Smells:
A Wendy’s salad. If you had asked me three hours ago what a salad from Wendy’s smells like, I would’ve told you that I’ve never had a salad from Wendy’s, and wouldn't know where to begin. And yet, here I am, in 22C, engulfed by the smell that I know to be a Wendy’s salad. Where did it come from, how did it get here, and why has it consumed this plane? I have no idea. Maybe it has something to do with sardines.

1 o’clock: An elderly woman two rows up and across the aisle. She has a veritable graveyard of empty booze bottles on her tray table (I count four). Did I mention we’ve been on this plane for 35 minutes? She can’t weigh 95 pounds. She drinks and looks like Lucille Bluth, if Lucille Bluth was 85 and wore Mr. T jewelry. Lucille 3 is the best.

2 o’clock: Nothing crazy, just middle-aged man falling asleep while reading the New Yorker. If I wanted to see that, I’d visit my parents.

3 o’clock: A woman who cannot wait to get rid of her empty cup. Does she think it just became toxic waste? Why is discarding her cup so urgent? Is she Jack Bauer? Is there something I need to know? A weather catastrophe? A Billy Joel concert?

4 o’clock: A row of 20-something men asleep. Why is everyone asleep? Maybe Jackie Bauer smells a gas leak.

5 o’clock and 6 o’clock: More aisle. I envy the people in the rows behind me. They have their windows open, they’re fully conscious--it seems like Studio 54 compared to my section.

7 o’clock: A woman eating a Wendy’s salad.

8 o’clock: A woman. That’s all. She’s just there.

9 o’clock: The two girls (I’d guess twenty-three) sitting beside me. They have accents and speak to each other in a different language. If I had to guess, their accents sound Eastern European, but their language sounds Nordic. The lesson, as always: I don’t know anything.

They’re enthusiastic about three things:

1) US Weekly (did you know that Tiger wasn’t the first...all men have ALWAYS been cheaters!).

2) Something called the Vampire Chronicles, which they’ve spent money to watch. I know nothing about the Vampire Chronicles, other than that Cash-from-Friday-Night-Lights is in it, and I’m guessing it’s related to Twilight. I can’t remember a wider gap between something’s popularity and how much I know about it. Even Harry Potter, which was huge, and which I never actively tried to engage, crawled into my life somehow. I had to read the first book in a class; I knew enough lovable, self-identifying nerds in Nashville whose idea of good clean fun was inviting people over and watching an HP movie (God bless them). So, without trying, I know Harry Potter. And I don’t dislike Harry Potter. But I’ve got NOTHING on Twilight. I know that there’s a werewolf, and a vampire, and the whole thing is vaguely emo. That’s it. Help? Wait, don’t help. Wait, help. Oh, I don’t know anymore.

3) Legroom. And they presently don’t have any, because...

10 o’clock: ...two women leaned their chairs back. The Swolish (Swedish-Polish-I-can’t-tell) girls are tall, and have no legroom. I feel bad for them. Can we all just collectively decide not to lean our chairs back on airplanes? It makes the Leaner’s life maybe 1.5% more comfortable, and makes the Leanee’s life 3,000% less comfortable. Let’s call a moratorium on reclining airplane chairs. Let’s get utilitarian with it.

11:59 o’clock: My TV screen, which does not feature the Vampire Chronicles.

And now Lucille 3 orders another round. And now my monitor tells me we’re three hours from Los Angeles. And now Tom Petty’s “Love Is a Long Road” is in my ear.

He ain’t kidding.

Thursday, Jan 14, 6:17PM (local time)
I solved my lifelong dilemma of not-enough-hours-in-the-day: keep moving west.

3,500 miles later, I'm camped out in Hollywood, about to get some dinner, and I see this:

Right back where I started.

Lights, camera, action. Goodnight, LA.

Check back tomorrow for more updates!

LA Diary, Part 1 (Manifest Destiny)

Wednesday, Jan 13, 5:09PM
As I write this, it is 36 degrees outside my window in Manhattan. It's sunny (kind of) and quiet (sort of) and cold (relatively). Everything relative is relative. This time tomorrow (if Wunderground has ever been right), I'll be sitting outside in 72 degrees of glory. There won't be a cloud--or the trace of a cloud, or the memory of a cloud--in the sky. It won't be January, it'll be May; I won't be Winter Chris (wearing the parka my grandma got me for Christmas in 1993), I'll be Spring Chris (muscle shirts, people). How am I doing this? Did I realize my dream of actually, finally, making the sun revolve around me?

Nay! I'm going to California.

Los Angeles, California: that sprawling, gonzo mirage at land's end. It's the star-crossed battle line of an unreal American dream. It's the place where a billion little stars line up and plunge themselves at Manifest Destiny like Custer at Little Big Horn.

I'm going to LA tomorrow. I leave JFK at 11AM and land at LAX at 2:33PM, traveling backward to move forward. On Friday I'm playing the record release party for my new album--Up--at the Hotel Cafe. On Saturday night, I red-eye back to New York. Any--and everything--in between is up for grabs, due for negotiation, and (probably) left to fate.

But what do I know about Los Angeles?

We all know the stereotypes: LA is often maligned for its synthetic veneer, its narcissism, its bloated and masturbatory entertainment industry, its "fakeness." In New York, the line is that everyone in LA is inauthentic, an opportunist, depraved, and (probably) dumb. New York is where art is created; Los Angeles is where entertainment happens. Right or wrong, that's the prevailing perception.

I know that I spent a summer in Northridge when I was 8. I know I've been back a few times since. I've probably spent 3 months, cumulative, in the greater LA area. I know I have friends and colleagues in LA; most have been there for some time, and many love it. I know that I considered moving to LA before settling on New York. I know that Los Angeles is glossy, hazy, hallucinogenic, gorgeous trapdoor chock full of the eccentric, the superficial, the desperate, the starry-eyed, and the thin-skinned. And I know this:

I love LA. That's why I love LA.

I love LA. I love all of it: the predominant Hispanic influence, its absurd show business, its culture of fake nonchalance, the undeniable beauty, its dangerous charms. I love it so much I couldn't have moved there; I would've ended up like Ulysses, emerging from Circe's hedonist island to realize a year--or ten--had passed.

I can't wait to get back.

That's why I'm keeping a running diary of the entire weekend--from my flight tomorrow morning to the red-eye Saturday night, and everything in between. I'll post here regularly, and give you updates, pictures, and (hopefully) video from the show.

In the meantime, I need to do two very important things:
1) Pack.
2) Load up the iPod with Manifest Destiny-appropriate songs.

So here's my question: what are your favorite songs about California? They can be songs that have "California" or a city in the title, are about them, or by a Californian artist. I need to stock up!

Just glancing at my iTunes, here are the definites with "California" or something-about-LA in the title:
Phantom Planet, "California" (cliche for a reason)
Led Zeppelin, "Going to California" (perfect for a reason)
Atherton, "California" (I watched Laguna Beach for a reason...okay, like 350,000 reasons)
Wilco & Billy Bragg, "California Stars"
Lucero, "California"
Kings of Leon, "California Waiting"
R.E.M., "I Remember California"
Tupac, "California Love"
Stereophonics, "Plastic California"
Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Californication"
Ryan Adams, "Goodnight, Hollywood Boulevard"
The Thrills, "Hollywood Kids"
Counting Crows, "Goodnight LA"

Strangely, no Beach Boys on that list. But there will be Beach Boys. Oh, yes, there will be Beach Boys.

So, let me know what I should bring with me. I'm heading to the edge of the world, and I've got a guitar, and I've got some music, and I've got nothing--and everything--else. I'm gonna join those billion tragic, surging stars and make my stand.

"We all know Custer died at the Battle of Little Big Horn," says the blowhard novelist Eli Cash in the Royal Tenenbaums, "but what this book presupposes is...maybe he didn't?"

Maybe it didn't.

Never let them tell you that they're all the same,
CM

Tonight, Tonight!

Nashville:

It's here!

My last concert as a Nashvillian is tonight.

If you have ever seen a show of mine, or want to see a show of mine, or have any interest at all in seeing a show of mine, you have to come tonight.

If you have ever seen Moriah Harris, Nick Pagliari, or Matt Woods, you have to come tonight.

If we've become friends during our collective stays in Middle Tennessee, you have to come tonight. If we've become enemies during our collective stays in Middle Tennessee, this town wasn't big enough for the both of us. And you have to come tonight.

Come if you're sad I'm leaving.

Come if you're ecstatic I'm leaving.

Come if you like the Basement and could care less either way.

Come if you're a fan of Matt Woods, Nick Pagliari, and/or Moriah Harris. Come if you think you could be. Come, because you definitely should be. They're all amazing, and good friends, and kind enough to join the party, sing along, and help me say goodbye.

So come and say hello. Say good evening, say cheers, say goodnight, sit back, take five, take a drink, take six, and say anything.

Then say goodbye.

Let's do this, Nashville!

Any requests?

Last night in town,
CM

Got a Dump Truck, Baby

Blogworld!

In the midst of all this "making a record madness," other aspects of my life took a brief backseat. They sat there, rough-housed, asked "are we there yet," spilled several drinks, and at one point dry heaved. The Other Aspects of My Life are a lot like me, on a road trip, at age 5. They also dress like an investment banker.

So, in the backwards seasonal spirit of "fall cleaning," I gotta unload my head.

Thoughts while wondering what you do with the trash bag box when you're out of trash bags...

1) Milam's Going Away Concert.
We are 12 days away! I don't know how else to say it: if you live in, near, around, have ever passed through, thought about passing through, or have generally considered the Nashville area...you have to be at this show.

It'll be my last concert in Nashville for some time, and my last as a Nashvillian. It's at my favorite venue in Nashville. The bill's stacked with all my favorite artists and friends. The sets will feature all kinds of surprises, collaborations, originals, old favorites, new classics, covers, 1812 Overtures, and the like!

It'll also be your first chance to hear songs that'll be on the new record! Come out early, stay out late, say goodbye to me and hello to football in one mad musical reintroduction to all things good and autumnal.

2) Studio Update
We're still "seasoning" the record. Our seven days of full, constant recording ended yesterday, so now we'll do what we can when we can. There's not much left at all, and we'll be finished tracking shortly. Then the mixing starts!

I've done it before, but it's worth doing many times more: I can't say enough about Steve Martin as a producer, engineer, musician, and general friend to artists. In a very short amount of time Steve has seemingly worked with every artist in Nashville, so he's nobody's "best kept secret." The secret's out. He's a bad, bad man. If you're an indie artist in Nashville and thinking about making a record, you have to talk to Steve. This town's chock full of talented sound guys, and Steve's a standout. Simply put, he's The Guy. You have to work with him.

And yes, that's him in a mu-mu.

3) What Now?
Oh, many things.
--September 1, we'll have the hotly-anticipated Songs for September.
--Starting in September, I'll be back to the regularly-scheduled programming of Fan of the Month and Milam's Mailbag (plenty of questions to answer there).
--Did I mention the upcoming concert?
--Or, the NYC shows this fall?
--Or, more shows to be announced, so stay tuned?
--New web and blog design in the coming weeks. Launch date soon!

4) Listening To
REM, and nothing else.

You?

Bound to put a blanket on my bed,
CM

In the Lab

This is not a test--I promise. This is just a message to say that the week's been full of studio-preparation. But there's hope! The studio itself will afford me more time to Blog than studio-preparation does. Irony, you fickle mistress!

So, here's the breakdown:

1) Starting this Sunday, August 16, I'm making a new record. The record is yet-unnamed. I'm taking suggestions. Like Oatmeal Dream Pie. That's a keeper.

2) I'll be in the studio from Sunday to Friday (16th-21st). In that time, I'll be blogging on the regular, with all the juicy pictures, updates, and gossip ("Steve took the last Dr. Pepper?!? What a tomcat!"). So check back early and often for the inside look.

3) The record will be out sometime this fall, although I'm not sure when. The good news is that recording, mixing, and mastering will be a pretty quick process (this isn't Chinese Democracy, folks). The releasing process takes longer, since the big digital distributors take some time to get new records up and running. More details as I get them, though.

4) But yeah, start checking the blog Monday morning for all the steady studio updates!

That'll do pig,
CM

And lest you forget:

Leaving Tennessee

Heylo, Blogworld!

I've got a little news for y'all. This fall I'm moving to New York City, which means I'll be leaving Tennessee in due time.

The good news is that this is the right call for me and my career at this point, and I can't tell you how excited/nervous/anxious/happy I am. Come autumn, I'll have a new record, new interwebs to play with, hot new blog action, tons of new shows (many in the Great White Northeastland), and a new home. I. Can't. Wait.

The bad news is that it's hard to leave home.

So, what's the best way to say goodbye? How about throwing a gigantic party, playing my favorite venue in Nashville, packing the bill with my favorite friends and artists in town, and having one huge, glorious, final concert before I leave?

Yeah, let's do that.

MARK IT!

Leaving Tennessee - A Going-Away Concert
Friday, September 4
The Basement
Chris Milam, with...
Matt Woods
Nick Pagliari
Moriah Harris
And mucho, mucho more!
$7, and all Milam merchandise will be on sale and available for barter!

Plenty more info very soon, but I wanted to go ahead and get the word out as soon as possible. If you have ever...
1) Known
2) Liked
3) Hated
4) Kind of recognized
5) Largely forgotten
6) Cooked for
...me, you absolutely have to be there. It wouldn't be the same without you.

Another Southern boy who dreams of nights in NYC,
CM

YouTube Concert - "Coldweather Girls"

Hey hey, and we're back again with another YouTube Concert!

Today's song is called "Coldweather Girls." It's brand new and unreleased, so enjoy the interweb premier!

I'll be traveling a bit in the next few weeks, so stay tuned for more YouTube Concerts and a few new posts, including a very special celebrity interview (I did one of these in the past) and the upcoming Fan of the Month.

***One more note: I'll be playing in Arkansas tomorrow. Here's the rundown:
Thursday, May 14
Hendrix College event at Michelangelo's, downtown
4-6PM
Open to the public
FREE!
Should be nice weather and a nice two hour acoustic set. I'm looking forward to it!

Til then: "Coldweather Girls" (lyrics available on the YouTube page):



Around the bend,
CM

Art, Roll Over

Have you ever thought to yourself, "I wish there were a place I could go to watch Chris sing songs, play instruments, and make up songs about Simon & Garfunkel"? If so, today is your incredibly lucky day!

Milam's YouTube Channel:
Subscribe, comment, rate, favorite, embed, and more!

There's "Alcohol," an unreleased song I played recently in Nashville. I also just posted these two videos from the NYC show!

"Lovesick Cafe" - Unreleased, complete with "Don't Give Up On Me Now" banter!



"Memphis Queen" - Off Leaving Tennessee, complete with Simon & Garfunkel homage!


***Special thanks to the NYC gals who shot these!

Also, please don't forget about tomorrow's Rock N Remedy Concert...7PM at Mercy Lounge!

Going to Graceland,
CM

Rock N Remedy

And we're back! To kick things off, I wanted to give y'all all the details on the January 6th benefit concert because it's such an important show to all the artists involved and I'd love to see you there!

Here's the rundown:

--Tuesday, January 6th (a week from today)
--Rock N Remedy Benefit Concert for Multiple Sclerosis
--Music starts at 7PM (No lie! Because there are so many artists playing, we're starting super-early)
--$10 at the door, plus additional donations are greatly appreciated. We'll also feature a silent auction, and merch sales will go towards the cause!
--If you can't make it out on the 6th or live out of town, but would still like to help out, just visit this link to make a direct donation to the MS Society!

Now, who's playing this thing? How's about:

Molly Fitzpatrick:
Prettiest dern voice in the tri-state area. Maybe it's just the dash of Mississippi I'm hearing in it, I could listen to Molly sing all the live long day. You have to hear this girl live!

The Glib:
Ever go out to shows in Nashville and think, "Jesus, why doesn't someone just get onstage and rock my damn face off already?" Enter The Glib. They're awesome, and they're here to fill that very specific void in your life. Strap in.

Megan McCormick:
Gorgeous voice, gorgeous songs...I first saw Megan McCormick a year ago and decided she could harmonize with a chainsaw. I watched everyone's heart break in the first two rows. It was awesome.

Dabney Morris:
Seems like everyone in Nashville has seen Dabney play at this point, and with good reason: he's one of the city's best musicians and his latest release, Ocean EP, falls into the so-good-it's-almost-unfair category. Really smart, accomplished songwriting...I can't wait to hear these songs live.

Moriah Harris:
My crazy music crush on Miss Harris has been well-documented. At one point this summer I somehow talked her into singing on "Tin Angel," so whenever you hear that song and ask yourself, "who is the girl singing," that would be Miss Moriah Harris. Her songwriting is tight and haunting and beautiful and her voice is so good that yeah, there's probably a restraining order against me at this point. Just listen...she'll do the rest.

Tommy and the Whale:
Whenever people outside of Nashville ask me who my favorite local band is, I start with Tommy and the Whale. If you're in the city, you've probably heard them and definitely heard of them. They're simply one of our best bands: poppy and dynamic songwriting, powerful live...they're a virtual all-star team of local musicians. If you're anywhere close to Nashville on January 6th, you cannot miss their set.

Julie Lee:
Put it this way: when I first invited my Facebook friends to this show, I got a handful of messages immediately....and they all said, "OMFG, how are you playing a show with Julie Lee, I'll come out and see her regardless of you...seriously, Stalin could open for her and I'd buy three tickets." So there you have it!

Chris Milam:
"Slightly better than Stalin." --Rolling Stone

Heart-wrenching singer/songwriter dynamos paired with gut-checking rock paired with classic powerpop, etc....what do all these artists have in common, you ask?

The answer is a fellow named Steve Martin. Steve a sound engineer/producer in Nashville, and one of the city's brightest young talents. He's already worked with a veritable who's-who of non-country artists in town...everyone from Courtney Jaye to Tallest Trees (another incarnation of Tommy & the Whale) to Moriah Harris and seemingly everyone in-between (and yep, Steve co-engineered and produced the Tin Angel EP). He's an incredibly gifted sound-guy, and an even better friend to the Nashville music community.

Steve was recently diagnosed with mulitple sclerosis, the symptoms of which have seriously affected his work schedule and his ability to pay for treatment and (most importantly). This concert came about because so many artists in town wanted to give something back to a guy who has given so much to us, both as a friend and colleague. The proceeds from this concert will go towards Steve's treatment, as well as (at Steve's request) the National MS Society.

This is a very important show to so many of us in town, because we all love Steve and want to help him in any way we can. Please, please, please come out on January 6th and show your support for this great cause, and hear an amazing night of music!

***If you can't make it on January 6th, but would like to help, feel free to donate directly to the MS Society by clicking this link.

Thanks a ton for your support, and I can't wait to see you on the 6th!
--CM

You Can Find Me in N-Y-C

Actually, you can't. If you're in New York, just wandering at this very second thinking, "Milam's around," you're a few days late. But this past weekend you would've 1) been right and 2) probably seen me wandering around.

From Thursday-Sunday I was in New York for a show at the Bitter End. I kept a semi-running journal of the weekend, and will be posting that immediately once the editor approves my misspellings.

Meantime, HEY, LOOK, ANOTHER SHOW! And this one isn't embarrassingly self-indulgent! There are charities (1 actually) involved and everything!

Milam at Rocketown
Nashville Rescue Missions benefit show
Thursday, November 13
6PM

See how many artists are playing? The setup here is an all-night long songwriters-in-the-round format, with four artists playing an hour at a time. The next hour, four more get up and trade off songs.

The show starts at 6PM and will go on all night...it's going to really be a great night of music. And, HEY, LOOK, my group is actually batting lead-off, right when the doors open. So get there early!

More info here.

See ya there!
CM

Like Lucero Said

This Friday, November 7...Milam hits NYC! Consider yourself warned:

Tin Angel NYC Release Show
The Bitter End (147 Bleecker St)
Friday, November 7, doors at 7 (set starts at 8 SHARP, so don't be late)
$7
Facebook Event for the show

This will be my first set in NYC, and I can't wait to get up there! Tell all your friends in New Yawk to come out and I'll bake you--yes, you personally--a cupcake or three**.

Another Southern boy who dreams,
CM

**Not true.

It's Here!

The wait is finally over! As of today, you can hear my new record, the Tin Angel EP, all over the internet. Below is a list of places you can hear all 5 songs on the record…not to mention buy the record when it’s officially released on Tuesday!

Hear the Tin Angel EP – and the first single “On My Way”:

Myspace

Facebook

CDBaby

IMeem

LastFM

ReverbNation

GarageBand

Digstation

Buy the Tin Angel EP – and the first single “On My Way”:

CDBaby (Tuesday) – Buy hard-copy or digital

ITunes (Tuesday) – Everyone’s favorite digital retailer

SNOCAP (Tuesday) – Digital usic store through Myspace and IMeem

***If you’re not already, be sure to BECOME A FAN of Chris Milam on Facebook so I can send you all the updates!

Finally, keep checking the Official Site and especially the Milam Blog for daily updates about the record release and tour dates! There’s a ton coming up, so stay tuned…

I technically finished this record August 1^st, which means the last two months have been the longest of my life. I couldn’t wait to share the music with everyone, and now I finally can! This record is dedicated YOU…all the fans and friends that have been so supportive (and patient!) of this record. I hope that you enjoy!

--CM

P.S. Don’t forget the Record Release show THIS SATURDAY, October 11!

Eight Days Away!

If a week was eight days long...

1) That would probably mean more football for everyone.
2) God might've rested two days in a row.
3) There would be [insert number that someone who's good at math can figure out] weeks a year.
4) The Tin Angel EP would be exactly ONE WEEK AWAY!

This is my loquacious way of telling you that on October 7th--eight days from now--my new record is coming out. What I need you to do is SPREAD THE WORD! Pre-order the record, tell your friends, make a sign, show it to people, stand on a corner, shout it from a rooftop, form a band and sing songs promoting its glory.

You can do any of that and I'd still find it totally acceptable.

Here's the schedule of the CD release:

Monday, October 6: Some of the songs will be available for listening on Myspace, ILike, Reverbnation, IMeem, the Official Website, everywhere you could ever want to look for it.

Tuesday, October 7: The record will be available for purchase anywhere. If you've already purchased one from CDBaby, it is on its way!

Wednesday, October 8 through Forever: Listen, rock, pirate, burn, enjoy with all your friends.

Saturday, October 11: The CD release show at 12th & Porter! Click on the right sidebar for all the details.

And don't forget Friday, November 7 is the NYC release show! All the details to the right.

More soon,
CM

CD Release Show--October 11!

Hey Everyone!

Mark the calendar now:

CD Release Show 12th & Porter Saturday, October 11th Chris Milam w/ Broken Frame and more!

Okay, now that it's carved in your stone calendar...if you have ever attended or have ever considered attending a Chris Milam show, I NEED YOU at this one. I've been working on the Tin Angel EP for months now, and can't wait to celebrate its release with you! This is going to be an absolutely awesome lineup, with a ton of surprises in store. All it needs is you--and maybe a Slip N Slide--to be complete.

Seriously, industry folks talk all the time about how music fans aren't willing to support independent artists. I obviously disagree, and have seen it time and time again. Now's your chance to come out in droves and show your support for local independent artists--buy the record and come enjoy the Tin Angel EP!

Thanks a ton, and stay tuned for even more info regarding this show!

--CM

Running On Half-Full

Haylo Cleveland,

So check it out: I know I post a lot here about upcoming shows, with gratuitous shout-outs to my own music and news and such. I tend to go on and on about my own goings-on and don't give enough attention to other people and things. "Ohh, look what I've done," I tend to say, or "Hey, check this out," or "Blah, blah, I'm a vain artist, blah." A frequent criticism of my blog is that I spend a lot of time talking about myself, or talking about myself talking about myself, or even that I preface things to the point where the original intent is lost in an overlong paragraph of openly self-referential nonsense. I do this from time to time.

But not this time! This time I wanted to give all of you a heads-up to a show I'm playing tomorrow night that is actually for someone/something else's benefit, complete with tax write-offs and everything! Seriously, check it:

A friend of mine is running the San Diego marathon on June 1. She's running to raise money for Team in Training. Team in Training works with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society to raise money toward cancer research and prevention, specifically leukemia and other blood cancers. Her goal is to raise $4000 to fight cancer. As part of her fund-raising efforts, she’s putting together an event TOMORROW, May 6, and here’s where I come in…

There's a fund-raising event tomorrow at Otter's, from 6-10ish, and there's live music all night. Starting at 6PM, I'll play a set, then Jordan Lawhead (a great artist, freshly transplanted from LA), then a great friend of mine and awesome artist, Matt Woods. There's an optional $5 at the door, and Otter's is donating a portion of the evening's sales to the cause, to eat/drink/be merry...just throw your money around.

Who: Chris Milam, Jordan Lawhead, Matt Woods
What: Fund-raiser for cancer research
Where: Otter's on Demonbreun
When: Tomorrow, 6PM sharp
Why: It's a great cause! Have a heart! Jeez!!!

See y'all there...
CM

P.S. GO HEAD AND MARK THIS DOWN:
Saturday, June 21st 12th and Porter
Matt Woods, Chris Milam, Nick Pagliari, and more!
YOU CAN'T MISS THIS SHOW!

Milam at Earth Day (The Convenient Truth)

Dear Earthians,

This Sunday I'm playing some music at the Earth Day festivities in Memphis. Some of you might be asking yourself a lot of questions right now. Let's field a few real quick:

1) Um, who are you? Who am I? What am I doing here?
Great, good. I'm Chris Milam. I'm a singer/songwriter in Nashville. I'm originally from Memphis. I'm traveling from Nashville to Memphis to play some music at the Earth Day. This is happening on Sunday afternoon. It'll be funsies.

2) "Where can I learn more about the Earth Day festivities in Memphis?"
Well, you can go HERE for starters.

3) "Milam, since when are you an environmental activist?"
I'm glad you asked. For a long time I was a lot like you (assuming you're an unrelenting drain on the earth's resources): throwing huge balls of plastic out the window of my Humvee while coating my head with hairspray. My first album was titled, It's Getting Hot in Here, Earth and featured the hit single "Charcoal Heart (My Love Is Fossil-Fueled)." Sure, I went through the "hunting eagles" phase that every 12 year-old experiences and I won't lie to you, I was good. But one day I saw Bono on TV and he was all, "We gotta shift the paradigm, man" and I was all, "yes, yes, a thousand times yes." Elevation! And what I'm trying to say is this: I now own Birkenstocks.

4) "What one thing has inspired your environmental kick more than anything else?"
Well, there are really two things. First, I watched the Planet Earth series. There were these African wild dogs that are among the most sophisticated pack hunters on the planet. They completely devastated a gazelle. It made my heart swell (Side note: future song lyrics??). Also, Ben and Jerry's Free Cone Day has brought environmental issues straight through my head, past my heart, and into my intestines in the form of ice-cream-that-I-don't-have-to-pay-for. Global warming never tasted so sweet!

5) "Chris, I heard you have a working relationship with Al Gore. In what capacity have you worked with him to raise awareness about global warming?"
Funny story. My work with Al Gore really began a few years ago, when he spoke at my college for Earth Day. He spoke to a crowded lecture hall and then walked around shaking hands afterward. This was in the "post-election/full-bearded" phase of his career, when he was palpably sad and at his most likable. Anyway, I went up and shook his hand and thought to myself, "Good grief, this dude's got some gigantic hands. He's like a Kodiak bear." And while I was thinking that, some lady also walked by me. It wasn't until later that a friend told me that was Tipper Gore, Al's wife, and that she had stuck out her hand to shake mine, but I had accidentally snubbed her. Also, my family got a Christmas card from the Gore's once. So, yeah, I'm pretty much "in the inner circle."

6) "Hey Chris, I'm unfamiliar with your music but I expect to be at Earth Day. What's your style?"
My style? I'm self-described as "Teaching Assistant-sheik."

7) "I meant your music, doofus."
Right, yes. Before my environmental kick (what critics will later call my "Green Period"), I was largely playing electronic drums and yelling into megaphones a lot. That was my genre. But now, my music can only be described as "100% organic." My band plays original instruments made from the earth itself. Stanton's on the waterphone, Rich plays the mudhorn. John takes a drumstick to a hollowed-out butternut squash. We sound a lot like Ani DiFranco, but less raucous. You can go HERE to listen.

8) "This all sounds great! Anything else I need to know about you, the earth, the Earth Day, or anything?"
There are festivities all weekend, but Sunday will have a steady stream of music for you to enjoy. I'll play for a bit, and a bunch of other great artists will as well. The weather's supposed to be gorgeous. All kinds of activities. Bring the family, do it up Shelby-style.

9) "What's Shelby-style?"
Not sure. I think it involves bison and a hayride.

10) "Bison! Aren't they awesome?"
Bison are awesome. All the flavor of beef and nearly half the saturated fat.

You stay classy, Planet Earth,
CM

Christmastravaganzafest 2K7

Merry y'all,

I've got some more good stuff coming up, I wanted to make one more announcement to everyone in the greater Nashville area. Mark your calendars now for the

Second Annual MILAM'S CHRISTMASTRAVAGANZAFEST!

Last year's was an intimate acoustic thing at 12th & Porter with no supporting artists. This year, we've moved the show to the famed MERCY LOUNGE on Cannery Row. Three awesome artists are lined up to rock your face, and I'll be playing with my band, Formerly the A-Men, but for this show we will be called Chris Milam and His Little Helpers.

The band doesn't know this yet.

Here's everything you need to know:
Chris Milam (and His Little Helpers)
The Last Almanac (Josiah Rosen--formerly of Augustana)
Caitlin Rose
Wednesday, December 12th
Mercy Lounge

If you live in or around the Nashville area, you cannot miss this show. It's going to be plenty fun, unpredictable, raucous, and (in tune with the spirit of the season) dare I say snuggly?

Walking in my winter underwear,
CM