Nancy Davis Kho's Blog, page 43

Top 9 Places Where I Don’t Want You to Buy My Christmas Present

9. Any store with “‘N Stuff” or “’N Such” in the name

8. From an ad you read in the back of your fantasy football magazine

7. The store to which a guy spinning his giant arrow sign on the street corner was pointing

6. From the “Holly-daze!” aisle at the drug store

5. Card tables that are collapsed at the first sight of a cop car

4. The boutique that offers complimentary “lingerie modeling” to male shoppers

3. Establishments that use so much potpourri that it takes items six weeks to air out

2. Any place where you are also paying for a gas purchase

1. The hardware store

                    CommentsI actually love the hardware store. Anyone who wants to give me ... by EllenRelated StoriesChristmas Eve PlaylistFavorite Music Books of 2014Our Family Album 

Favorite Music Books of 2014

Holiday shopping season loometh, and I wanted to make sure that when you go out to support your local, indie bookstore this weekend (because it is staffed by nice people and serves cookies and brings author readings right into your neighborhood and pays tax money to your city and state government) that you have a handy list of some of the most righteous music books I came across in the past year.

The 2014 list includes some older titles that I finally got around to this year, as well as some hot-off-the-presses music reads I loved. It does not include the Morrissey autobiography, now available in paperback, but here’s to you if you can slog through it. Heaven knows it made me miserable now.

And just to make your holiday shopping for your favorite music lit lover extra easy, I’m giving away a copy of Gil Scott-Heron: Pieces of a Man by Marcus Baram. This new biography charts the life of the cult musical genius who influenced everyone from Elvis Costello to Kanye to Prince. Want a chance to win? Leave a comment below with the name of your all time favorite music read. I’ll pick a winner at random next Friday, Dec 5 at 5 pm PT.

1.) Mad World: An Oral History of New Wave Artists and Songs That Defined the 1980s by Lori Majewski and Jonathan Bernstein. Thirty-six songs representing ten years of music, replete with photos, insider stories, and “where are they now” section. Best when paired with an iTunes gift card so readers can download the three songs on the list that aren’t already on their iPod. Original review here.

Buy it for: anyone who first remove her reading glasses to fight you about who is the best looking member of Duran Duran, or wears her original black rubber Madonna bracelets with her yoga pants.

2.) Mo’ Meta Blues: The World According to Questlove by Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson. Not just on my top music reads of 2014, but on my top reads overall this year. The book came out in 2013 so this is a late review, but I’ll make up with enthusiasm what I lack in timeliness. Even someone with zero understanding of rap and hip hop would come away from this book feeling informed, entertained, and above all impressed by Questlove, drummer for Jimmy Fallon’s house band The Roots. Pair it with a couple of Roots CDs and an Afro comb. Original review here.

Buy it for: anyone who’s a fan of Fallon but doesn’t know the Roots outside of that setting, and anyone who needs to be reassured that even famous people make fools of themselves if they meet Prince.

3.) Exile in Guyville by Gina Arnold. Part of the uber cool 33 1/3 Series from Bloomsbury that each focus on a single album, this short, sharp book about the impact of Liz Phair’s album on the local and national music scene is thought-provoking, with a feminist sensibility and a rock critic’s precision. How cool would a 33 1/3 gift basket look, showcasing their candy-colored book spines alongside some actual candy? Original review here.

Buy it for: anyone who lived in Chicago in the ‘90s or who thinks Taylor Swift is making a groundbreaking, like, totally feminist statement with her new album.

4.) Confidence or the Appearance of Confidence: The Best of Believer Music Interviews, from McSweeneys. A collection of interviews that originally appeared in The Believer, with people like Patton Oswalt, Miranda July, and David Eggers asking music and non-music questions of musicians from Pat Benator to Irma Thomas to Jack White. McSweeneys is transitioning from a for-profit to nonprofit, so your purchase of this book will go a long way in helping their mission to support literary “projects that take risks, that support ideas beyond the mainstream marketplace, and that nurture emerging work.” Original review here.

Buy it for: anyone who loves music but suffers from Short Attention Span Theater Syndrome. This is great writing in bite-sized chunks.

5.) Just Kids by Patti Smith. Another one pulled from the wayback machine, this memoir written in 2010 by Patti Smith chronicles her life-changing friendship with artist Robert Mapplethorpe in such beautiful prose that it could be regarded as a textbook for memoir writers. Smith’s honesty and artistic integrity leap out from the page, and the stories about her cohort of friends – Andy, Janis, Jimi, Bob – create a vivid picture of an important moment in American culture.  Original review here.

Buy it for: anyone who loves good memoir or is looking forward to seeing Patti open for Pope Francis at the Vatican on Christmas Day.

6.) The Family Mix: Essays on Family Life from Midlife Mixtape – It’s my blog, did you think I wouldn’t at least mention my own book? This is a handy eBook compilation of reader’s favorite posts on the topic of family, as well as a few that were published elsewhere. When it’s Dec 24 and you still don’t have a present for someone special, a digital download of the Family Mix is the way to go. And it’s only $2.99.

Buy it for: EVERYONE! IN MULTIPLES!

Finally, an observation: the pace at which new, fabulous music-related books is coming out has picked up speed all year and, with only one review per month, I am buried in books and overwhelmed by possibilities. Here’s a short list of what I hope to get to soon, that you may also want to consider for holiday giving:

The Jesus and Mary Chain: Barbed Wire Kisses, by Zoe Howe (I’ll give a copy of this away at the next Midlife Mixtape ‘80s Dance Party) Emergency Anthems by Alex Green The History of Rock N’ Roll in Ten Songs by Greil Marcus Brothas Be, Yo like George: Ain’t That Funkin’ Kind of Hard on You by George Clinton (who else?)

Remember: the revolution will not be televised.

                  Related StoriesTurn Down the Music and Read: Rock On: An Office Power BalladWhat a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead!What a Sea Salt Carmel Week Ahead! 

Our Family Album

This week one of my favorite songwriters, Teddy Thompson, released an album called “Family.” As covered in a New York Times Magazine story last weekend, the project truly is a family affair, a folk rock collaboration between Teddy, his sister Kami, various nephews, and the now-divorced matriarch and patriarch of the clan, folk legends Richard and Linda Thompson. Each family member contributed a couple of songs, and the others layered on their own musical contributions in a Round Robin recording fashion.

The Times article, and the album itself, present a fascinating glimpse into the specific family dysfunctions of the Thompsons, who as Brits tend toward the “stiff upper lip” school of repressed feelings. Why talk about it when you can just write a song, send it to your dad for his guitar input, send it to your mom for some background vocals, send it to your sister for a little musical grace, and pray that everybody understands the subtext, both positive and negative, that you’d prefer not to discuss in the open?

It’s a gorgeous album, but with lyrics like “if you’re busy living your life, then you won’t be living mine” and “I am betwixt and between, Sean Lennon you know what I mean,” it’s clear that the Thompson family is working through some shit here.

It got me thinking about what a Family album would sound like if it came from this house, a chance to air grievances and express gratitude in four part harmony. Hey, my people are from Yorkshire. I can do repressed as well as anyone. When readers of the first draft of my memoir said they needed to read more about my feelings, I told them, “Got it. Can you please tell me what they are?”

I’m no musician or songwriter, but I can at least imagine the titles of our tracks that various people in my family would contribute, and conjure a few sample lyrics.

“Over and Over”

Mom’s telling that story of yore

She’s told so many times before

Since I got home from school today she’s retold it twice

Is she losing it? Should I be nice?

“Break Some Rules”

Yes there’s a family rule

If you cook dinner, clean-up should be done by another fool,

But when what you’re cooking is just for you

Like a smoothie for one, not two

Then rules are meant to be broken

“Pancho and Lefties”

Everywhere else in the world, left handers are a minority

In this house, they’re the authority

Mom’s the only right hander here, so be kind and think

Where’d it goooooooooo? Where’d it goooooooooo?

Dish soap and toothpaste on the wrong side of the sink

“Ticket to Ride”

I don’t drink, I don’t gamble, I don’t play golf

But she’s glaring at me through the mist

All I said was I’m riding in the morning

She said “GREAT!” like she was pissed

“Achilles the Warrior”

The dog

The dog

The g-d dog is attacking a stuffed animal

You’re making me insane

I’m sorry

I love you

I love you, boy

“Recycling My Love”

The stack of unwanted paper on the counter grows

Like a tree, like my love, like the winter snows

You sigh and ask “anything more to go out to the bin?”

Nothing at all

Except that catalog I found, right before you walked back in.

“Taller”

Yes, you’re taller than me now

Yes, by an inch or three now

Yes, you can fit into my shoes now

But no, you cannot wear them.

“Home”

Where on weekends lazy parents nap,

Where on flowers the dog takes a crap,

Where girls talk nonstop ballet,

Where the meals are substantial if not gourmet

Nirvana for me at the end of my day

So what are the track listings on YOUR family album? 

                  Related StoriesDance Party Recap and Memoir SnippetWhat a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead!What a Sea Salt Carmel Week Ahead! 

Save the Date for the next Midlife Mixtape Dance Party: Thursday, Feb 12 2015

There, it’s not even Thanksgiving but I just made your Valentine’s Day 2015 planning a piece of cake. What are you and your beloved going to do to celebrate? You’re going to come out to the “I Have To Work Tomorrow Early Bird ‘80s Dance Party” at the Cat Club in San Francisco on Thursday, February 12 from 7-9, and shake your rump-a, that’s what. Then, on actual Valentine’s Day, you can order a pizza, put your feet up, and let all the suckers try to find parking near romantic restaurants in Noe Valley or Potrero Hill.

For all the people I’ve seen since the last dance party who said, “I wanted to come so bad, but we couldn’t find a sitter!” I’m telling you now: that excuse will not fly in February. You have almost three months to book Sophia, Emma, or Maddy. Get it done. I already know I’ll be giving away a copy of The Jesus and Mary Chain: Barbed Wire Kisses and who knows what other goodies I’ll be able to conjure between now and February 12? You don’t want to miss it.

Watch for an official FB invite (easier to spot if you “like” Midlife Mixtape on Facebook) and I’ll see you on Thursday, Feb 12 at 7 pm!

                    CommentsTime to check my favorite babysitter(s)' schedule! by Janine KovacRelated StoriesDance Party Recap and Memoir SnippetWhat a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead!What a Sea Salt Carmel Week Ahead! 

Kickstarter, Pledge Music, and the New Realities of the Music Biz

Remember when music held a physical place in our lives? I mean, in the stacks of albums in crates, or the boxes full of cassette tapes under the bed, or the boomboxes and stereos and turntables on shelves and in corners? The space that music took up around us was a reminder that the music industry was an actual INDUSTRY that made things, and paid its workers, most notably the artists themselves.

Then came the MP3, and music disappeared into a device that fit into our pockets and does 743 other things at the same time. Soon, even storing digital files became onerous to music consumers. So now everybody streams music on Spotify and Pandora. In the process, I think, music buyers have lost the thread of how money is made in the music industry.

Vinyl album, downloaded digital album, streamed song on Spotify. What’s the difference? people may think, if they think about it at all. The money still goes to the artist.

Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaha.

Here’s a little infographic for you to chew on that explains what artists are facing today, in the struggle to make a living. It shows how much music a solo artist would have to sell, by format, to earn the monthly minimum wage of $1,160. Pay attention to the column on the right that shows what percentage goes to the artist vs. to their label, too.

The big artists, of course, still do great. Taylor Swift can afford to pull out of Spotify and lose an estimated $6 million in revenues to make a point, and Beyonce’s not taking out a home equity loan anytime soon. But for most musicians, it’s harder than ever to make rent, let alone to have something left for hookers and blow.

When’s the last time you bought a full CD in a store? Downloaded an entire album? Bought a single track? Or listened to Pandora? Readers of Midlife Mixtape probably do all of the above more than the average bear, but I’m guessing that your buying habits have changed in the past ten years, and in a way that doesn’t trickle down to many of the artists to whom you’re listening.

So what can we as good consumers of music, believers in the creative impulse, supporters of not-Top-40-all-the-damb-time music do? How can we support the quirky, dedicated musicians we love, so they can keep making music?

Increasingly, the answer is crowd-funded music. Artists are turning to platforms like Kickstarter and Pledge Music to raise funds directly from fans so they can make the music they want, distribute it to the people who love it, and create a community in the process. Lately it’s one of my favorite ways to buy music (next to buying concert tickets.)

I present for your consideration three very different artists who are turning to fans to help them fund their work. Because when you need more than 4 million Spotify plays in a month just to make minimum wage, there’s something whackadoodle in the system. Maybe take a look at these three projects and toss them some love in the form of cold hard cash, in exchange for a signed CD or your name in the liner notes.  Or find another artist you love on PledgeMusic or Kickstarter. Or buy a concert ticket or a t-shirt or, if you’re feeling flush, host a house concert. Just don’t assume that because it’s gotten easier for you to find and hear new music in 2014 that it’s gotten easier to make a living as a musician.

Bob Schneider

Austin singer/songwriter Bob Schneider is one of my favorites, with a breadth of work that ranges from quiet ballads to salsa to hard rock to funk. He’s using Pledge Music to fund his new album, “King Kong,” and there’s a support level everyone, from a digital download for $10 to a house concert for $10,000 (hello, Santa!) and everything in between – BOBbleheads, signed vinyl, and a beer koozie that says FAYM. (Google it.)

I saw Bob play on Sunday night at the Independent in SF and he asked the crowd whether anyone had already signed up for his Pledge Music campaign. About ten of us whooped and hollered and he said, “Thank you! And to the rest of you…I am pre-thanking you. You have some shit to do.” Then he played this song from the new album.

Support Bob on Pledge Music

Nora Jane Struthers

I’ve had the honor of seeing Nora Jane and The Party Line play two house concerts right up the street at the Rosecrest Supper Club. Nora Jane’s voice is as clear as a high mountain lake, and her songwriting and musical skill are breathtaking, and she’s just about the nicest person you could imagine. Bluegrass, Americana, Alt-country: not sure what you call her evolving style besides straight up Good Music.

She’s put together a little vid about why she’s turning to Kickstarter to make her next album. My favorite line from this: “The problem is that I can’t keep making music if I don’t have any money.” Yes, that is a problem. For 116,000 spins on Spotify of her latest album, Carnival, she earned $19.02. If Spotify had handed her a $20 bill, she would have had to give them change. Watch it and weep, then get in on the ground floor of her new album “Wake.”

Support Nora Jane on Kickstarter

Kate Davis and Postmodern Jukebox

If you’ve liked or shared Kate’s cover of Meghan Trainor’s “All About That Bass” on Facebook and I HAVEN’T jumped in to tell you that she’s the daughter of my cousin, well, blame poor reflexes on my part. Very proud of the musical talent on that side of the family tree. Now, together with Postmodern Jukebox, Kate and Co are putting out a Christmas CD that will be the perfect soundtrack to all your Yule festivities. Here’s a taste. Yay, nepotism!

Support Kate Davis on Pledge Music

Don’t think too hard about any of these…one of the catches of crowd-funding campaigns is that they don’t last long, and if they don’t get fully funded the artist gets NONE of the money. So get on over and support some great music. As Bob Schneider says, “You’ve got some shit to do.”

I’m inviting readers and musicians to add links to their own pet music projects in the comments below: who else should we be supporting via PledgeMusic and Kickstarter? And why do you recommend them?

                    CommentsIn answer to your question, 'When was the last time you ... by Jon CI never ever look at the digital booklets that come with ... by Nancy Davis KhoGren – one of these days Pelicanopolis will play on a day ... by Nancy Davis KhoPete – thanks for stopping by and the perspective. As a ... by Nancy Davis KhoVery few musicians can make a living for an extended time ... by Pete GloverPlus 2 more...Related StoriesAn Open Letter to the Handybook AppDance Party Recap and Memoir SnippetMidlife Mixtape Concert Review: Erasure 

All in All: The Berlin Wall

Twenty-five years ago this week I was in Munich, working in my IT consulting job for a tiny company that had a second office in Berlin. On Thursday that week, I walked through the front door into the reception area of the office, to see our receptionist staring at the phone receiver she held in her outstretched hand.

“They’re not answering in the Berlin office,” she said to me, livid. Our receptionist was also the boss’ wife and also our accountant, and she knew exactly how much every employee cost her and her husband, every day. She made sure we knew she knew. Taking a day off without telling her first was a personal affront.

It was weird, though. Employees in the two small offices collaborated by phone all day – marketing people in Munich, programmers in Berlin – so someone in our office was ALWAYS talking to someone in Berlin. “They’re just not there,” she said.

A few minutes later the phone rang and I was close enough to hear exultant laughter coming through the receiver, and the sound of my co-worker Matthias’ voice, from Berlin. “Bananen!” I heard. “We’re taking bananas to the Brandenburg Tor!”

And that’s how I learned, on November 9, 1989, that the gun-toting East German soldiers who patrolled the cement wall running through the center of Berlin had walked off the job in the wee hours, and that residents of East Berlin were streaming through the Brandenburg Gate into West Berlin by the hundreds. Exuberant West Berliners were greeting them at the Brandenburg Gate to give them bags of the fruit that was so difficult to come by in East Germany – fresh bananas.

I started studying German in sixth grade, and we learned about German culture and history in addition to language (good language teachers know it’s impossible to separate the three.) I had simply taken it as permanent fact that there would always be a divided Germany and a Wall. As absurd as it would sound to a 21st century middle schooler that a major European city could simply be dissected in two: that’s how absurd it sounded to me in 1989 that the Wall had fallen.

Just imagine how it sounded to my young German co-workers, one of whom was my boyfriend, all of whom were born after the Wall was built. It was verrückt. Crazy. Unimaginable. Joyful. Worth incurring the wrath of the boss’ wife to skip work and take bananas to the Ossis, as the Easterners were called. The emotion and excitement swept outward from Berlin like a wave and were soon tangible to all West Germans ( the Wessis,) even in the southern state of Bavaria where I lived.

As soon as I could, I flew to Berlin for one of my regular visits to my boyfriend, and we picked up hammers somewhere and drove to a section of the wall and hammered on it. It became something routine we did whenever I visited him in Berlin for the next months: grab some breakfast, stop by the grocery store, hammer on the Wall, visit a museum, make dinner plans. That I personally helped smash that symbol of tyranny and repression down – even if it was only a few square inches of it – will be one of the proud moments that I take to my grave.

The next few months were a mosaic of memories. Being in Berlin on New Year’s Eve 1989, greeting 1990 by walking through the Brandenburg Gate with my nervous/astounded boyfriend, sans passports or guards, stopping at bonfires to share paper cups of cheap Russian champagne with Ossis and toast to new beginnings. Seeing East Germans pick up the “lucky money” due to them from the West German government for getting out– DM100, about $54 – at post offices and banks in the west, while Wessis standing in line cheered and clapped. The ubiquitous abandoned Trabants that sprung up at the side of the road all over Berlin, as East Germans ditched the Ossi car built with a lawnmower engine in to find new rides in the land of Bayerische Motoren Werke. The first grumblings of discontent about what it would cost the West Germany economy to reunify with the East, muttered by drunks on the U-bahn saying aloud what many Wessis were increasingly thinking.

Shortly before I moved home from Germany in July 1990, I went to Berlin for one last visit, and brought along my American friend Kirsten and her German boyfriend for their first time. The four of us we went to the Wall, which had by then turned into a raging center of world class capitalism. An East German soldier “guarding” a six foot by six foot gap in the wall leaned through to us and whispered: “Wanna come through and climb in the guard tower? 20 marks.”

The two Germans with us were speechless. Kirsten and I paid the money and shoved our German boyfriends through to No-Man’s Land, the flat space between East and West that used to be booby-trapped with mines. For another ten marks, we got to wear the caps of the East German soldiers – Volkspolizei, or VoPo – and drive around in their military jeeps. It was something that, eight months earlier, none of us could have ever imagined doing in a million years.

Pretty much freaking out as I climb up an East Berlin guard tower

Oh hi, yeah, I’m up here with my friends in EAST BERLIN. We’ll be right down for the jeep ride.

The view back into West Berlin, and the VoPo booking their next clients at DM20 each.

While the German boyfriend morphed long ago into a platonic friend, the chance to bear witness to his experience that day is something that will always connect us.

The next day was my last in Germany, and there was a little concert we went to see. Pink Floyd playing The Wall. At The Wall. With cameos by Joni Mitchell, Jerry Hall, Thomas Dolby, Marianne Faithfull, Ute Lemper and Van Morrisson (and of course everyone’s favorite German hair band, The Scorps.) It should give you a sense of how enchanted my life felt that year that this spectacular, one of a kind, amazing event isn’t even the thing that I treasure most about living in Germany during that era.

Instead it’s the fact that I got to see, up close and personal, how hope can triumph over cynicism, how insurmountable institutional obstacles can be brought down, and yes, how good can win out over evil. Twenty five years on, on days when I feel so close to giving up on politics and climate change and gun control and equal rights for women, my memories of the fall of the Wall are reminders to keep on chipping away.

                    CommentsWhat a powerful post. Thank you for writing and thank you for ... by Maria F. LeonWhat an amazing chance to experience history being made. I ... by ShananAbsolutely amazing to be able to say you not only witnessed ... by JoanneI am so glad that you did!! Thanks again for reminding me to ... by Nancy Davis KhoStanding ovation!! Wow! This was even better than I was ... by EllenRelated StoriesThe Striped Shirt ParableHigh School, Then and NowI Interview Because… 

Dance Party Recap and Memoir Snippet

Our second “I Have to Work Tomorrow ‘80s Dance Party” at the Cat Club in San Francisco is in the history books, and oh what a party it was on November 6. Even if San Francisco was suffering a collective post-World-Series post-Halloween hangover, enough people showed up to fill the dance floor at an hour that, had they still been in college, they would have spent contemplating a late afternoon snack.

It made the paper.

Wrists were stamped. But only if you were over 21. (Hahahahaha)

Badges were distributed.

 Right ‘round was spun.

The video screens overhead displayed a curious mix of ’70s horror clips which segued into ’80s soft-porn pictures. Or as Maureen put it, “Oh. We’ve gone from gore to whore.”

A book was won. (Congrats to new Midlife Mixtape reader Praveen, and thanks again Touchstone Publishing for providing the copy of Billy Idol’s memoir!)

All in all, great night…stay tuned for the announcement of the next one, which should be sometime in February-ish. Should we all bring our Valentines? Or just dance to this?

 

By the way, here’s what I read at The Basement Series last Friday. It was a fundraiser for LitCamp’s scholarship fund, and the topic was “What I Did for Love Not Money.” We were given a strict rule of one page, which I exploited using margins and font sorcery. The piece is adapted from my midlife music crisis memoir-in-progress, from the chapter about seeing New Order play again when I was in my forties.

***

When I got to college in Philadelphia in the mid-eighties, I was razzle-dazzled by the number of clubs and activities in which I could partake, so much so that I took leave of my senses and joined them by the armful. I rowed crew for about six days until I realized that the two-mile run to the boathouse to start practice was not some wacky hazing ritual, but the daily warm-up for the real workout. I played women’s hockey for as long as it took at the introductory meeting to recognize that possession of a ticket stub from the Women’s Figure Skating Compulsories in the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics was not sufficient training. I was in the Women’s Marketing Club for exactly the minimum time it took to ethically give the organization a permanent berth on my first post-college resume.

Then I found the Penn Union Council.

With its bland, generic name, “Penn Union Council” sounded like it could have been anyone doing anything. But it served a very specific purpose: to provide free student labor to the bands that came on campus to perform in the red brick Gothic Revival Irvine Auditorium.

For each show, a team of PUC volunteers was hand-picked to arrive at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning and stay until the last amp was put away on the equipment truck after that night’s performance.

In between, we swept the stage, wiped down the tables in the dressing rooms, prepared meals for the band and its roadies, and ensured that the artist’s rider was carried out to the letter in terms of beer brand, candy preference, and honey selection. Anything that the band, the band manager, or a person who even appeared to be traveling with the band asked us to do, we did immediately and without complaint. In return for that subservience, we were given a free tour t-shirt and a backstage pass that enabled us to sit in the orchestra pit, right at the feet of the musicians, when the show started.

I couldn’t believe that every student at my university wasn’t clamoring to give up a free Saturday to join this magical organization. I served chili to Tracy Chapman, cleaned up all 10,000 paper cups left by 10,000 Maniacs, and engaged in second hand smoke inhalation backstage at Jimmy Cliff. My club-joining days were over: it was me and the PUC, forever and ever, amen.

Whenever a new show was announced, it signaled a nervous jockeying for position among the members of the PUC hoping to get the nod to work that day. There were enough volunteers that the student PUC managers could be choosy, and I’d failed to make the cut before. The managers wanted students who revered the headliner musicians but could, you know, like Frankie said: Relax.

So when word got out during the first semester of my junior year that New Order was coming to campus to play, I had to dial my actual enthusiasm level way, waaaaay down before attending the meeting where volunteers would be chosen.

My determined nonchalance must have fooled someone, because on that December morning in 1986 I was up at six a.m. to prepare for my day of crewing their show. I knew from experience I wouldn’t have much time to freshen up all day, which explains the outfit I wore out into the early dawn. You can actually see elements of it again every year, worn by sixth graders on “Eighties Day!” during School Spirit Week.

Black knit skirt over black leggings Long white blouse pinned at the throat with a rhinestone Granny brooch, and cinched at the waist with a wide belt. Fake leopard fur jacket nabbed from my mom’s closet during Thanksgiving break Earrings that reached my shoulders Black knock-off Doc Martens a lid-straining application of eye makeup And high, high hair buttressed by Aquanet in the blue can

Oh, and something the kids don’t have to worry about: a prayer that I wouldn’t get mistaken for a hooker.

Within a year I’d graduate, take a consulting job, invest in suits and what a friend termed “presentation to the board” earrings. I regret none of it. I just wish I’d had the foresight that morning to know that, because of the day about to unfold, I’d spend the next twenty-five years at concerts trying to maintain a connection with that fresh, audacious, high-haired girl I’d never be again.

Want to stay in the loop as more news about the book comes out? Subscribe to my Book Lovers Email List here…thanks!

                  Related StoriesWhat a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead!What a Sea Salt Carmel Week Ahead!Hold the Heathen Hammer High 

Midlife Mixtape Concert Review: Erasure

The Band: Erasure, November 1 2014. There were two kinds of parties I attended in college: the ones that played Erasure’s Euro-tinged synthpop, and the ones I left immediately, to look for a party that was playing Erasure’s Euro-tinged synthpop. Andy Bell and Vince Clarke formed Erasure in 1985 and became hugely successful in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s with singles like “Chains of Love” and “A Little Respect.” They’ve never stopped recording, releasing sixteen albums since 1986 – the latest is The Violet Flame – and they still do lots of touring, especially internationally. Being an out, loud and proud gay man has made lead singer Bell an icon to the LGBT community.

The Venue: The Fox Theater, Oakland. I go here so much that I now have my designated spot from which I watch shows: right hand side, near the first set of stairs, under the elephant. It’s like when you go to church and you always pick the same pew; it would just feel weird to watch shows from any other part of the auditorium. My friends Travis and Matthew met us there and it was their first time at the Fox, so I gave them a full three minutes to soak in the ambience before I forced them to say it was their favorite place to see a show.

The Company: Maureen, my friend who is a personal wardrobe consultant and who is hard wired to notice interesting outfits.

Here she is with her new friend Sea Lion, who picked up his Kelly green fur bolero – if you can believe it – at the “Clothing By the Pound” bin at the Goodwill in Santa Cruz. In a nod to the fact that we were at a show on Dia de los Muertos, he accessorized with Grandpa’s bowler hat and Granny’s clip on floral earrings. He was, in a word, adorable, and Maureen kept track of him on the General Admission floor all night. “Seal just moved up another two rows!” she’d yell to me. “Seal is almost at the stage!” Seal, Sea Lion: what’s a little species confusion between friends?

Maureen is from New Jersey and defends her place in the crowd with an East Coast attitude that I endorse. Anytime anyone threatened to slouch over into our special spot, she either threw an elbow or danced forcefully into them. For a sweet, caring personal shopper, she will throw down if you get in her concert space.

The Crowd: According to Matthew, who is gay and also much taller than me so he had a better crowd view and can be considered authoritative on the subject: “67% Caucasian, collared, and gay.” Funny. I’d have said 68%.

Age Humiliation Factor: Girl, no.

Andy Bell is 50 years old, but he can still pull off shiny black leggings and a sequined top hat and not even look like he’s trying to stretch Halloween for an extra day.

And I will put his post-costume-change sequined-hot-pants and combat boots shimmy up against Miley’s twerk ANY DAY of the week. He is still all that, and a bag of sequined chips.

Cool Factor: Totally Tubular

For a long time, starting in, oh, 1990, I wouldn’t go see ‘80s bands play, because I worried I’d be disappointed that they were past their prime. New Order at the Fox in 2012 was kind of a breakthrough, and now I’m making up for lost time seeing bands I never saw the first time around. I’ve yet to be let down. Sometimes, it’s nice to be at a show where you know all the words.

And by the way, this was the last show of the North American leg of their tour. And it was Daylight Savings so we could sleep late the next morning. Sorry not sorry.

Worth Hiring the Sitter? Always

One of the under appreciated benefits of ‘80s synthpop: when the music is performed on a laptop, there’s not a lot of degradation due to the passing of time. If anything, software upgrades may mean that this music sounds even better (and it can be stored on smaller chips, right, Mr. Moore?!)

Vince Clarke stood at the back of the set quietly and efficiently doing what he does with his computer, and with a guitar a few times. Andy Bell shimmied here, there, and everywhere like a glitter genie, his voice completely unchanged and the crowd roaring the words along in case he missed any of them. Two backup singers in sequined leggings danced alongside Andy, and every few minutes I’d realize that both Maureen and I were mimicking these lovely ladies, synchronizing our hand motions and all.

Oh, to come back in my next life as Andy Bell’s back up dancer.

By the time colorful balloons came cascading down onto the crowd who’d bellowed along for “A Little Respect” and “Love to Hate You,” it was pretty much the best college Erasure dance party I never went to.

Next show on the calendar: Bob Schneider at the Independent SF, November 16

                    CommentsSounds like a plan, Maureen! One of these days I'll make it out ... by EllenOh, to be able to move my hips like Andy Bell! Great concert ... by MaureenBoth Johnny Marr shows sold out here…I'm jealous! Have a ... by Nancy Davis KhoMaureen sounds like my kind of concert companion. I'm seeing ... by EllenRelated StoriesTurn Down the Music and Read: Dancing With MyselfHigh School, Then and NowWhat a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead! 

What a Sea Salt Caramel Week Ahead!

I’m not going to sugarcoat it, at least not until the end: this is the blog post equivalent of coordinating family calendars. Everyone get out a pen, because there are a couple of events coming up that I wanted to make sure you all knew about:

Thursday, November 6, 7-9 pm – it’s the quarterly “I Have to Work Tomorrow” Dance Party at the Cat Club in San Francisco (1190 Folsom Street,) hosted by yours truly. We mix, we mingle, we dance to really great ‘80s music, and we’re home in bed before The Daily Show comes on. What’s not to like? The first 40 people through the door will get a little prize, and one lucky attendee will win a copy of Billy Idol’s new book. Bring your friends – everyone is welcome!

Also – so cute – the Cat Club asked me to remind you that in addition to the $5 cover charge, you have to bring valid ID. Isn’t that the sweetest thing? Like anyone would think we’re 20. (The Cat Club means it, though.)

Friday, November 7, 7-9 pm – I’ll be reading at The Basement Series at the Sports Basement in San Francisco (1590 Bryant Street,) on the topic of “Not For Profit: What I Did for Love Not Money.” The event is the big fundraiser for LitCamp scholarships, and authors like Andrew Sean Greer, Michelle Richmond, and Anthony Marra will be reading…I’m going with the section of my book where I was a volunteer roadie for New Order.

Backstage pass, circa 1986

There will also be a live auction with prizes including admission to Michael Krasny’s studio during an NPR author interview; dinner for 6 cooked, served & cleaned by the Lit Camp Board; and – gulp –“The Midlife Mixtape Experience – attending a concert with Nancy Davis Kho and appearing in her blog, plus 3 music books.” My feeling is, the higher the bid on the Midlife Mixtape Experience, the less likely I’m going to make you come with me to see Ke$ha.

Not to mention the books I chose from past “Turn Down the Music and Read” reviews. Win this package, and these are the three fab music books you get to take home.

So if you want to come out and hear some great readings and raise money for an excellent cause – putting the Bay Area’s only juried literary conference into reach for talented writers who might not be able to afford it otherwise- c’mon on out on Friday. $5-$10 sliding scale admission, and free beer!

And finally: my work website has had a complete facelift. The bandages have come off and the swelling is down, so I’d love to have you take a look. I described my goal here to my web designer as follows: “make it the serious, slightly repressed older sister of Midlife Mixtape.” (Midlife Mixtape got a new paint job too, couldn’t have it be jealous.) How’d we do? www.daviskho.com.

Now, back to the sugar coating. I leave with you a list that may have been too weird for NickMom. Because why should pumpkin have all the fun?

Top 9 Things That Haven’t Yet Been Sea-Salt-Caramelized, But Totally Should Be

Lean proteins Bran Cereal Body lotion Kale Scotch Laundry detergent Room spray My husband’s lip balm Toothpaste

                    CommentsI sure wish I could be there for the Basement Series, why do ... by EllenYou got it! See you in July! by Linda RoyWell, I WAS pretty prescient on the pumpkin thing, so let's ... by Nancy Davis KhoWe probably just need to shop at different stores. Like ... by Nancy Davis KhoYour website looks fantastic Nancy! That's one heck of an ... by Linda RoyPlus 2 more...Related StoriesWhat a Sea Salt Carmel Week Ahead!Autumn: East Coast v. San Francisco Bay AreaTurn Down the Music and Read: Dancing With Myself 

Autumn: East Coast v. San Francisco Bay Area

Next year I will have lived as many years in Oakland as I did in my hometown of Rochester, NY, at which point I assume the entire country will dip slightly to the left. Or I’ll have to send my eldest daughter east to go to college, in some sort of giant game of Red Rover. At any rate, seventeen years here has given me ample time to make the East Coast v. SF Bay Area comparison, and nowhere are the differences more stark than in the way we spend our respective Autumns.

Clothing

East Coast: Put bathing suits away, dig out woolens SF Bay Area: Finally- the fog has lifted and it’s bathing suit weather! But the kids have school and you have to work, so just put the bathing suits away. Also, at night it dips down to 62 degrees, so dig out woolens.

Mother Nature

East Coast: Watch the beautiful fall foliage paint the landscape in reds, oranges, and yellows SF Bay Area: Watch your drought-starved grass turn even more brown East Coast: Sniff for scents of fire; it will evoke longings for a comfy chair, books, and a mug of cider SF Bay Area: Sniff for scents of fire; it will evoke low-grade panic, constant scanning of the horizon for smoke, and an urge to check Twitter for #fire.

Relax! It’s Saturday

East Coast: Rake the leaves, watch some football SF Bay Area: Go into San Francisco because the tourists are finally gone and you can get a parking space.

Halloween

East Coast: a fun celebration for the kids SF Bay Area: The High Holy Holidays for a region where people loooove to dress in drag. Your Halloween decorations should outnumber your Christmas decorations by at least 2-to-1 East Coast: Buy pumpkins in early October to decorate your doorstep. Carve them with whimsical designs so your neighbors can admire in the weeks leading up to Halloween SF Bay Area: Buy pumpkins in early October to decorate your doorstep. Carve them with whimsical designs so your neighbors can admire in the weeks leading up to Halloween. Because of the heat, mold will collapse your pumpkins within 24 hours, so go back to the pumpkin patch and start again. Repeat at least three times during October.

Dang, pulled the pumpkin carving trigger too soon again.

Eating Seasonally

East Coast: Donuts and spiced cider SFBay Area: Is there NO season in which we get a break from eating chard? Seriously?

L’Carpetron Dookmarriott is definitely my favorite soldier in the East V. West rap war.

                  Related StoriesWanted: Perfect NeighborsQuiz: Drunken College Girl, or My Malfunctioning iPhone5?Long Time No Write.