Reflection Draft #2
Night Hike
As a young child growing up in Salt Lake City, Utah, the Boy Scouts was always in my life. My older brother was always earning a badge for some sort of skill or another, my father was always going on hikes or camps with the boys in our home troop. I was, on a constant basis, hearing stories of amazing hikes, camps, and adventures. So when I turned 12, it was just natural that I would join Troop 243, earn merit badges, go on adventures, and, like every other young man in the scout system in Salt Lake, earn my Eagle award before I turned 16.
On my adventure as a Boy Scout, I conquered many daunting tasks. From 4 mile hikes, to a 100 mile bike trip, I did just about everything. I learned how to start a blazing fire with only one match. Then, I learned how to do the same thing with no match. After that, like any young boy would do, I continued my evolution of fire starting and learned how to start the same fire with a cigarette lighter and a can of bug spray. We learned just how much sunscreen we'd need in order to not be crispy and burned, but at the same time not feel all oily and lotiony all day. I swam an entire mile in a cold lake without floatation devices. I found the right, and wrong, way to sharpen my knife collection so they'd stay shiny and ready to be used for anything from woodcarving to cutting my food. The incorrect way brought life lessons of it's own. From the most efficient way to put a band-aid on myself, to how many Tylenol I'd need to stop my recently stitched up wound from throbbing.
Somewhere along this exciting path of learning experiences, ghost stories, and sunburns, I came to terms with some very unexciting facts. They include the following: you will get bitten by mosquitoes, hiking in the dark will have to happen, Mother Earth has her own schedule (if it's gonna rain, it's gonna rain), you will ALWAYS find at least one rock directly under where you place your sleeping bag.
Most of these facts of camping and hiking have become minor inconveniences in the years I've spent in the great outdoors, and some of them have become surprisingly enjoyable to deal with. Hiking at night is one of those enjoyable inconveniences. It's happened countless times, and I've grown to hope that it will happen countless more times.
Jump ahead to the year 2010. It's the centennial anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America. The exact date is June 15th, and I decided to go on a hike with some friends of mine. We hiked up Bell's Canyon in Sandy, Utah. Bell's is a small little canyon, rich with wildlife and moisture. It's spend years being cut into the Wasatch Mountains by a heavy flowing river with gorgeous waterfalls. The trail itself winds through trees, shrubs, and super green plants, all the while climbing higher and higher through the mountain. As my friend Sean and I climbed, we saw beetles, caterpillars, moths, and plenty of water. The end result wasn't super impressive: we stopped climbing about 45 minutes from the destination, due to a storm on the horizon and super sore muscles. Little did we know what the hike down had in for us!
The views of the city, the foliage, and the cliffs were breathtaking! As the night started to creep in and the sun started to sink, bats began to appear in the darkness. I started to become both excited for the dark, and nervous for the storm that was soon to break in the valley. We heard the nearly subsonic sounds of toads croaking in the trees.
The most exciting, however, was the two massive, black moose we nearly got attacked by. Sean was in front of our two man caravan. We were discussing something that was probably less than important when we both heard the sound of antlers in the trees to our left. I got all excited at the prospect of seeing a huge deer buck, looked over, and saw a black mass. It stood about 9 feet tall at the top of the head, and another half a foot at the top of the velvety antlers. We stopped immediately. One of the lessons we had both learned in our years of scouting is that, while a moose is an herbivore, it WILL kill you if you scare it. Especially if you come between a mother and her calf. We retreated to a boulder about 15 feet up the trail so we could see over the trees to assess the situation. To our relief, there was no calf, and the two moose were both male. Our relief was only temporary, as we still didn't want to come within throwing distance of the two massive mammals. We began throwing rocks into the bushes surrounding the moose in order to make them both leave faster.
Our efforts were successful, as the moose wandered away from the trail, and we made it down to the trailhead to meet up with some friends that had left before us. One girl voiced her concern for the other hikers having to hike in the dark. I was so enthralled by the idea of hiking in the dark that I almost wanted to go hike more! It didn't make any sense to me why anyone would dread the idea at all! Not to mention hiking in the dark in an area so full of life! My childhood was so full of other dreadful notions that I welcome the thought of a night hike. The more bats, darkness, moonlight, and sounds of rolling thunder, the better.
It made me wish that everybody could have experienced the mountains the way I had as a young boy. While I understand that not all of mankind have been lucky enough to have been raised in such a beautiful, mountainous area, I have trouble truly understanding what it must be like to not have those experiences in their lives.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Be The Change draft #2
On a rainy evening in Salt Lake City, Utah, I decided to go see my friends' band play at a small venue called Kilby Court.
After driving our car through the business district of Utah's capitol city, passing through the inner city neighborhoods, and finally arriving in the warehouse district, we park in front of a block of buildings that look nothing like a musical venue. We took a small walk to find an alleyway with a street sign that says "Kilby Court", but we haven't arrived yet. Kilby Court, the street, is about 60 yards from entrance to the end and is a mixture of warehouses, puddles, and, surprisingly, houses. Some of the last residences left in the area have stayed standing through the years all due to business at the last lot on the left in the alleyway. All the people that live in Kilby Court either work or have worked at the tiny venue that lays hidden in this alleyway and quite frequently can be found on their small porches with acoustic guitars and friends while they wait for the night's events to start.
When we arrive at the venue, there's a small entryway with a ticket taker on our right. We payed the 7 dollars a person ticket price reluctantly, the website had said 6 dollars, and then enter the small open courtyard. On a dryer day, there would be a fire crackling in the old half oil drum in the middle of the courtyard. There would most likely be people surrounding the fire and scattered around the lot, talking, smoking their cigarettes, and discussing their favorite music. But the day's rain has taken a toll on the mood, either keeping people at home for the night, or keeping them in their cars till the last second when they can make a mad dash to the venue. To the right of the fire pit is a garage. It's old, it's kinda rickety, and it's been covered with graffiti and band related stickers through years of concerts and shows. To a music obsessed individual, like myself, this is heaven! We walk into the garage-turned-concert hall, aside from a small stage on the far left, a sound booth on the far right, and some sound equipment hung from the rafters, we're alone. It's a pleasant feeling, but it's short lived. The realization that this may be a negative thing becomes strangely foreboding.
About 15 minutes after arriving, other people start showing up. They pay their toll and their hand is stamped, tonight's stamp is the face of Disney's Goofy. I start to get excited. My friends show up with their trailer full of musical gear and begin setting up on stage. It's amazing how much equipment they have! Since I last saw these friends, we'd all gone our separate ways for school and work, and apparently, they'd gone off the deep end in the musical world in the best way possible. With three guitarists, Fictionist, my friend's band, is definitely a bigger band than most. Alongside at least two guitars each, a vintage amp for each of them, and at least two one foot wide by 3 foot long pedal boards full of the latest and best sounding guitar effects pedals on the market for each, there's a bassist, a keyboard player, and a drummer. Each of those musicians has their instrument(s), amps, and any extra equipment. That's a lot of stuff. For about fifteen minutes, Kilby Court has become a cluster of bodies, tour cases, and instruments, and then they start playing. The music is, in my opinion, and apparently the opinions of everyone else in the neighborhood, absolutely perfect. People cheer, fans clap their hands excitedly, and people who haven't heard this band before become lifelong fans.
Fictionist killed it. After moving their instruments and gear off stage, Ask For The Future, a band from Logan, Utah, sets up their equipment. This four man band does an amazing job. They play their instruments with talent and style. About this time, we start to notice an influx of young girls showing up at the venue. It's a strange occurrence, as these girls all seem to be under the age of 17, definitely not the normal crowd for this venue. Ask For The Future completes their set, clears the stage, and the next band begins to prepare. I look around and the mass of teenage girls seems to have tripled. I'm kinda nervous about it, but I focus on the instruments that are getting unpacked on the stage. It calms me down a bit.
The next band to play is called Allred, named after the lead singer/guitarist, John Allred. On the surface, he's a stereotypical All-American boy. He's clean, attractive, talented, well dressed, and has a wonderful voice. When investigated further, one will find that he's also nice, has a very creative mind, and is more than appreciative that we all came to hear his music. This is about the point in time when I realize why all the adolescent girls are in the venue. Small, high pitched whispers start at all corners of the room. They got louder as the band continued to set up. Hundreds of carefully made-up eyes dart from their friends and back to Mr. Allred. Camera phones and cameras were being set up, pictures taken, and texts to absent friends sent. John stepped up to the mic, plugged in his guitar, put his in-ear monitors into his ears, and the crowd absolutely freaked out! Half of us stood in awe as the other half, young and impressionable, jump up and down like little rabbits, and squirm from the excitement. The band begins to play, all the while enduring the flash from cameras. The front man and namesake of the band stopped between songs to thank the other bands, encourage his fans to stay for the next band, and tell stories about his songs. One such story was about when he spent a week in New Jersey recording. He talked about how he sat in a room with a guitar and a microphone, singing his songs. when the recording was finished, John walked into the control room, to find his producer moved to tears by his songs. At this point in the story, every girl in the house let out the stereotypical "AAAAAWWWWWWWEEEE!". But that wasn't the end of the story. Mr. Allred then told us who his producer was: Ace Enders, the singer and founder of The Early November, a poppy rock band from New Jersey that absolutely exploded on the national level a few years ago, especially among girls similar to the ones in attendance at Kilby Court. John Allred flashed his smile through the crowd as they react to his story about hanging out with their other musical hero. Surprisingly, nobody passed out and had to be dragged to the hospital, but I honestly felt like I was witnessing something i couldn't completely grasp the meaning of. This dude gets on stage, sings, picks his strings a little, and smiles a few times, and multitudes of girls fall at his feet. Aside from the craziness of the young crazy girls, the music was, at worst, exciting. I couldn't stop smiling. This man had some major talents. The songs were both catchy and full of meaning, something you don't find much anymore.
About this time, something confusing happened. John Allred and his band, Allred, finished their set, they started preparing the stage for the next band, and everyone under the age of 19 disappeared like roaches from the light. That left about 20 people. 20 people, of the 60 people that were there, were left standing in a space that suddenly felt massive.
The Devil Whale, a folky, indie band from Salt Lake City, got on stage next. They're one of the best local bands I've heard. Brinton Jones, their front man, stepped onto the stage with his guitar to start his set, a celebration of the release of their latest album. A six foot something tall bassist ducks through the back door and steps onto the stage next to his amp. The keyboard player and drummer both sit behind their instruments, and Jamie Timm, a guitarist from the Alt-Western band, Band of Annuals, plugged in his guitar. It's Jamie's first tour with The Devil Whale and he definitely looked nervous. The music began and the band didn't miss a single note. Even their newest song that they had never played for a crowd went off without a hitch. Everyone in attendance was either dancing, smiling, or singing along with Brinton's voice, which coincidentally, is as smooth as a newborn's bottom. Just like the other singers, Mr. Jones would take brakes between songs and tell short stories. At one point he thanked the people who had been there since Fictionist played, but immediately took his statement back and said "I doubt that anyone here has been here the whole time". First of all, I had. Second off, That got me thinking. Where had all the people gone? And how did the guys in The Devil Whale feel playing to an almost empty venue? I got pretty angry about the teeny boppers that had come and then left before hearing the amazing end of the show!
I find it so frustrating that these young people are seemingly so closed minded to good music. And what makes less sense to me is trying to think of what these teenage kids had that was more important that night. Underage teens with enough money to spend on seeing one band, but not enough time to stay for an even better band? It just doesn't make sense to me.
After talking to a few people in the local music scene about this situation, I only got more frustrated. Jason Steadman, a local celebrity who starred in the 90's horror movie Troll 2 and owns a local venue said, "...having produced and promoted concerts for years and having managed several bands, I've dealt with this A LOT and I can't tell you how bad it pisses me off and makes me embarrassed for the Utah music scene. I've obviously seen this happen at tons of local shows, but I've even seen it happen at bigger concerts. I don't get it. Stay around and get your money's worth. What in the hell is so important that night that you have to get to? I mean, if a family member is in the hospital, I can understand leaving. Other than that, stick around....". Along with that statement, a local musician named Nate Phelps says, "It is truly unfortunate, but not too many people know how it feels to play for people who don't wanna hear you or just plain don't care (or even worse, an empty room). I always stay for every band ESPECIALLY if I am in the show. It's just proper etiquette. Too many bands don't get the recognition they deserve because of eleventeen year old wannabes who only wanna see "ace enders." I spoke with the singer from Ask For The Future about it and his girlfriend commented "Those aren't the kind of fans you want anyway."
Other people also commented on it, and the consensus is that it does, and will continue to, happen. It's a sad fact, but it isn't going to change overnight.
I have a dream, to copy Mr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that one day our fellow musicians might be treated the way their fans would want to be treated if they were on the stage. I hope that I can do my part to support my favorite bands AND bands I've never heard. I will continue to invite everyone I know to come to every show I attend, and then strongly encourage them to stay for the entire time. While this happens more than I'd like to know, I know that it can be changed. As Gandhi said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world".
After driving our car through the business district of Utah's capitol city, passing through the inner city neighborhoods, and finally arriving in the warehouse district, we park in front of a block of buildings that look nothing like a musical venue. We took a small walk to find an alleyway with a street sign that says "Kilby Court", but we haven't arrived yet. Kilby Court, the street, is about 60 yards from entrance to the end and is a mixture of warehouses, puddles, and, surprisingly, houses. Some of the last residences left in the area have stayed standing through the years all due to business at the last lot on the left in the alleyway. All the people that live in Kilby Court either work or have worked at the tiny venue that lays hidden in this alleyway and quite frequently can be found on their small porches with acoustic guitars and friends while they wait for the night's events to start.
When we arrive at the venue, there's a small entryway with a ticket taker on our right. We payed the 7 dollars a person ticket price reluctantly, the website had said 6 dollars, and then enter the small open courtyard. On a dryer day, there would be a fire crackling in the old half oil drum in the middle of the courtyard. There would most likely be people surrounding the fire and scattered around the lot, talking, smoking their cigarettes, and discussing their favorite music. But the day's rain has taken a toll on the mood, either keeping people at home for the night, or keeping them in their cars till the last second when they can make a mad dash to the venue. To the right of the fire pit is a garage. It's old, it's kinda rickety, and it's been covered with graffiti and band related stickers through years of concerts and shows. To a music obsessed individual, like myself, this is heaven! We walk into the garage-turned-concert hall, aside from a small stage on the far left, a sound booth on the far right, and some sound equipment hung from the rafters, we're alone. It's a pleasant feeling, but it's short lived. The realization that this may be a negative thing becomes strangely foreboding.
About 15 minutes after arriving, other people start showing up. They pay their toll and their hand is stamped, tonight's stamp is the face of Disney's Goofy. I start to get excited. My friends show up with their trailer full of musical gear and begin setting up on stage. It's amazing how much equipment they have! Since I last saw these friends, we'd all gone our separate ways for school and work, and apparently, they'd gone off the deep end in the musical world in the best way possible. With three guitarists, Fictionist, my friend's band, is definitely a bigger band than most. Alongside at least two guitars each, a vintage amp for each of them, and at least two one foot wide by 3 foot long pedal boards full of the latest and best sounding guitar effects pedals on the market for each, there's a bassist, a keyboard player, and a drummer. Each of those musicians has their instrument(s), amps, and any extra equipment. That's a lot of stuff. For about fifteen minutes, Kilby Court has become a cluster of bodies, tour cases, and instruments, and then they start playing. The music is, in my opinion, and apparently the opinions of everyone else in the neighborhood, absolutely perfect. People cheer, fans clap their hands excitedly, and people who haven't heard this band before become lifelong fans.
Fictionist killed it. After moving their instruments and gear off stage, Ask For The Future, a band from Logan, Utah, sets up their equipment. This four man band does an amazing job. They play their instruments with talent and style. About this time, we start to notice an influx of young girls showing up at the venue. It's a strange occurrence, as these girls all seem to be under the age of 17, definitely not the normal crowd for this venue. Ask For The Future completes their set, clears the stage, and the next band begins to prepare. I look around and the mass of teenage girls seems to have tripled. I'm kinda nervous about it, but I focus on the instruments that are getting unpacked on the stage. It calms me down a bit.
The next band to play is called Allred, named after the lead singer/guitarist, John Allred. On the surface, he's a stereotypical All-American boy. He's clean, attractive, talented, well dressed, and has a wonderful voice. When investigated further, one will find that he's also nice, has a very creative mind, and is more than appreciative that we all came to hear his music. This is about the point in time when I realize why all the adolescent girls are in the venue. Small, high pitched whispers start at all corners of the room. They got louder as the band continued to set up. Hundreds of carefully made-up eyes dart from their friends and back to Mr. Allred. Camera phones and cameras were being set up, pictures taken, and texts to absent friends sent. John stepped up to the mic, plugged in his guitar, put his in-ear monitors into his ears, and the crowd absolutely freaked out! Half of us stood in awe as the other half, young and impressionable, jump up and down like little rabbits, and squirm from the excitement. The band begins to play, all the while enduring the flash from cameras. The front man and namesake of the band stopped between songs to thank the other bands, encourage his fans to stay for the next band, and tell stories about his songs. One such story was about when he spent a week in New Jersey recording. He talked about how he sat in a room with a guitar and a microphone, singing his songs. when the recording was finished, John walked into the control room, to find his producer moved to tears by his songs. At this point in the story, every girl in the house let out the stereotypical "AAAAAWWWWWWWEEEE!". But that wasn't the end of the story. Mr. Allred then told us who his producer was: Ace Enders, the singer and founder of The Early November, a poppy rock band from New Jersey that absolutely exploded on the national level a few years ago, especially among girls similar to the ones in attendance at Kilby Court. John Allred flashed his smile through the crowd as they react to his story about hanging out with their other musical hero. Surprisingly, nobody passed out and had to be dragged to the hospital, but I honestly felt like I was witnessing something i couldn't completely grasp the meaning of. This dude gets on stage, sings, picks his strings a little, and smiles a few times, and multitudes of girls fall at his feet. Aside from the craziness of the young crazy girls, the music was, at worst, exciting. I couldn't stop smiling. This man had some major talents. The songs were both catchy and full of meaning, something you don't find much anymore.
About this time, something confusing happened. John Allred and his band, Allred, finished their set, they started preparing the stage for the next band, and everyone under the age of 19 disappeared like roaches from the light. That left about 20 people. 20 people, of the 60 people that were there, were left standing in a space that suddenly felt massive.
The Devil Whale, a folky, indie band from Salt Lake City, got on stage next. They're one of the best local bands I've heard. Brinton Jones, their front man, stepped onto the stage with his guitar to start his set, a celebration of the release of their latest album. A six foot something tall bassist ducks through the back door and steps onto the stage next to his amp. The keyboard player and drummer both sit behind their instruments, and Jamie Timm, a guitarist from the Alt-Western band, Band of Annuals, plugged in his guitar. It's Jamie's first tour with The Devil Whale and he definitely looked nervous. The music began and the band didn't miss a single note. Even their newest song that they had never played for a crowd went off without a hitch. Everyone in attendance was either dancing, smiling, or singing along with Brinton's voice, which coincidentally, is as smooth as a newborn's bottom. Just like the other singers, Mr. Jones would take brakes between songs and tell short stories. At one point he thanked the people who had been there since Fictionist played, but immediately took his statement back and said "I doubt that anyone here has been here the whole time". First of all, I had. Second off, That got me thinking. Where had all the people gone? And how did the guys in The Devil Whale feel playing to an almost empty venue? I got pretty angry about the teeny boppers that had come and then left before hearing the amazing end of the show!
I find it so frustrating that these young people are seemingly so closed minded to good music. And what makes less sense to me is trying to think of what these teenage kids had that was more important that night. Underage teens with enough money to spend on seeing one band, but not enough time to stay for an even better band? It just doesn't make sense to me.
After talking to a few people in the local music scene about this situation, I only got more frustrated. Jason Steadman, a local celebrity who starred in the 90's horror movie Troll 2 and owns a local venue said, "...having produced and promoted concerts for years and having managed several bands, I've dealt with this A LOT and I can't tell you how bad it pisses me off and makes me embarrassed for the Utah music scene. I've obviously seen this happen at tons of local shows, but I've even seen it happen at bigger concerts. I don't get it. Stay around and get your money's worth. What in the hell is so important that night that you have to get to? I mean, if a family member is in the hospital, I can understand leaving. Other than that, stick around....". Along with that statement, a local musician named Nate Phelps says, "It is truly unfortunate, but not too many people know how it feels to play for people who don't wanna hear you or just plain don't care (or even worse, an empty room). I always stay for every band ESPECIALLY if I am in the show. It's just proper etiquette. Too many bands don't get the recognition they deserve because of eleventeen year old wannabes who only wanna see "ace enders." I spoke with the singer from Ask For The Future about it and his girlfriend commented "Those aren't the kind of fans you want anyway."
Other people also commented on it, and the consensus is that it does, and will continue to, happen. It's a sad fact, but it isn't going to change overnight.
I have a dream, to copy Mr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that one day our fellow musicians might be treated the way their fans would want to be treated if they were on the stage. I hope that I can do my part to support my favorite bands AND bands I've never heard. I will continue to invite everyone I know to come to every show I attend, and then strongly encourage them to stay for the entire time. While this happens more than I'd like to know, I know that it can be changed. As Gandhi said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world".
Friday, June 18, 2010
"Be The Change" Observation Draft #1
On a rainy evening in Salt Lake City, Utah, I decided to go see my friends band play at a small venue called Kilby Court.
After driving our car throught the business district of Utah's capitol city, passing through the inner city neighborhoods, and finally ariving in the warehouse district, we park in front of a block of buildings that look nothing like a musical venue. We take a small walk and find an alleyway with a street sign that says "Kilby Court", but we haven't arived yet. Kilby Court, the street, is about 60 yards from the entrance to the end and is a mixture of warehouses, puddles, and, surprisingly, houses. Some of the last residences left in the area have stayed standing through the years all due to business at the last lot on the left in the alleyway. All the people the live in Kilby Court either work or have worked at the tiny venue that lays hidden in this alleyway.
When we arrive at the venue, there's a small entryway with a ticket taker on our right. We payed the 7 dollars a person ticket price reluctantly, the website had said 6 dollars, and the enter the small open courtyard. On a dryer day, there would be a fire crackling in the old half oil drum in the middle of the courtyard. There would most likely be people surrounding the fire and scattered around the lot, talking, smoking their cigarettes, and discussing their favorite music. But the day's rain has taken a toll on the mood, either keeping people at home for the night, or keeping them in their cars till the last second when they can make a mad dash to the venue. To the right of the firepit is a garage. It's old, it's kinda rickety, and it's been covered with graffiti and band related stickers through years of concerts and shows. To a music obsessed individual, like myself, this is heaven! We walk into the garage-turned-concert hall, aside from a small stage on the far left, a sound booth on the far right, and some sound equipment hung from the rafters, we're alone. It's a pleasant feeling, but it's short lived. The realization that this may be a negative thing becomes strangley foreboding. About 15 minutes after arriving, other people start showing up. They pay their toll and their hand is stamped, tonight's stamp is the face of Disney's Goofy. I start to get excited. My friends show up with their trailer full of musical gear and begin setting up on stage. It's amazing how much equipment they have! Since I last saw these friends, we'd all gone our separate ways for school and work, and apparently, they'd gone off the deep end in the musical world in the best way possible.
With three guitarists, Fictionist, my friend's band, definitely a bigger band than most. Alongside at least two guitars each, a vintage amp for each of them, and at least two one foot wide by 3 foot long pedal boards full of the latest and best sounding guitar effects pedals on the market for each, there's a bassist, a keyboard player, and a drummer. Each of those musicians has their instrument(s), amps, and any extra equipment. That's a lot of stuff. For about fifteen minutes, Kilby Court has become a cluster of bodies, tour cases, and instruments, and then they start playing. The music is, in my opinion, and apparently the opinions of everyone else in the neighborhood, absolutely perfect. People cheer, fans clap their hands excitedly, and people who haven't heard this band before become lifelong fans. Fictionist killed it. After moving their instruments and gear off stage, Ask For The Future, a band from Logan, Utah, sets up their equipment. This four man band does an amazing job. They play their instruments with talent and style. About this time, we start to notice an influx of young girls showing up at the venue. It's a strange occurrence, as these girls all seem to be under the age of 17, definitely not the normal crowd for this venue. Ask For The Future completes their set, clears the stage, and the next band begins to prepare. I look around and the mass of teenage girls seems to have tripled. I'm kinda nervous about it, but I focus on the instruments that are getting unpacked on the stage. It calms me down a bit.
The next band to play is called Allred, named after the lead singer/guitarist, John Allred. On the surface, he's a stereotypical All-American boy. He's clean, attractive, talented, well dressed, and has a wonderful voice. When investigated further, one will find that he's also nice, has a very creative mind, and is more than appreciative that we all came to hear his music. This is about the point in time when I realize why all the adolescent girls are in the venue. Small, high pitched whispers start at all corners of the room. They got louder as the band continues to set up. Hundreds of carefully made-up eyes darted from their friends and back to Mr. Allred. Camera phones and cameras were being set up, pictures taken, and texts to absent friends sent. John stepped up to the mic, plugged in his guitar, put his in-ear monitors into his ears, and the crowd absolutely freaked out! Half of us stood in awe as the other half, young and impressionable, jump up and down like little rabbits, and squirm from the excitement. The band begins to play, all the while enduring the flash from cameras. The front man and namesake of the band stopped between songs to thank the other bands, encourage his fans to stay for the next band, and tell stories about his songs. One such story was about when he spent a week in New Jersey recording. He talked about how he sat in a room with a guitar and a microphone, singing his songs. When the recording was finished, John walked into the control room, to find his producer moved to tears by his songs. At this point in the story, every girl in the house let out the stereotypical "AAAAAWWWWWWWEEEE!". But that wasn't the end of the story. Mr. Allred then told us who his producer was. Ace Enders, the singer and founder of The Early November, a poppy rock band from New Jersey that absolutely exploded on the national level a few years ago, especially among girls similar to the ones in attendance at Kilby Court. John Allred flashed his smile through the crowd as they react to his story about hanging out with their other musical hero. Surprisingly, nobody passed out and had to be dragged to the hospital, but I honestly felt like I was witnessing something i couldn't completely grasp the meaning of. This dude gets on stage, sings, picks his strings a little, and smiles a few times, and multitudes of girls fall at his feet. Aside from the craziness of the young crazy girls, the music was, at worst, exciting. I couldn't stop smiling. This man had some major talents. The songs were both catchy and full of meaning, something you don't find much anymore.
About this time, something insanely confusing happened. John Allred and his band, Allred, finished their set, they started preparing the stage for the next band, and I became absolutely disgusted with what happened next. Everyone under the age of 19 disappeared like roaches from the light. That left about 20 people. 20 people, of the 60 people that were there, were left standing in a space that suddenly felt massive.
The Devil Whale, a folky, indie band from Salt Lake City, got on stage next. They're one of the best local bands I've heard. Brinton Jones, their front man, stepped onto the stage with his guitar to start his set, a celebration of the release of their latest album. A six foot something tall bassist ducks through the back door and steps onto the stage next to his amp. The keyboard player and drummer both sit behind their instruments, and Jamie Timm, a guitarist from the band Band of Annuals, plugged in his guitar. It's Jamie's first tour with The Devil Whale and he definitely looked nervous. The music began and the band didn't miss a single note. Even their newest song that they had never played for a crowd went off without a hitch. Everyone in attendance was either dancing, smiling, or singing along with Brinton's voice, which coincidentally, is as smooth as a newborn's bottom. Just like the other singers, Mr. Jones would take brakes between songs and tell short stories. At one point he thanked the people who had been there since Fictionist played, but immediately took his statement back and said "I doubt that anyone here has been here the whole time". First of all, I had. Second off, That got me thinking. Where had all the people gone? And how did the guys in The Devil Whale feel playing to an almost empty venue? I got pretty angry about the teeny boppers that had come and then left before hearing the amazing end of the show!
I find it so frustrating that these young people are seemingly so closed minded to good music. And what makes less sense to me is trying to think of what these teenage kids had that was more important that night. Underage teens with enough money to spend on seeing one band, but not enough time to stay for an even better band? It just doesn't make sense to me.
After talking to a few people in the local music scene about this situation, I only got more frustrated. Jason Steadman, a local celebrity who starred in the 90's horror movie Troll 2 and owns a local venue said, "...having produced and promoted concerts for years and having managed several bands, I've dealt with this A LOT and I can't tell you how bad it pisses me off and makes me embarrassed for the Utah music scene. I've obviously seen this happen at tons of local shows, but I've even seen it happen at bigger concerts. I don't get it. Stay around and get your money's worth. What in the hell is so important that night that you have to get to? I mean, if a family member is in the hospital, I can understand leaving. Other than that, stick around....".
Along with that statement, a local musician named Nate Phelps says, "It is truly unfortunate, but, not too many people know how it feels to play for people who don't wanna hear you or just plain don't care (or even worse, an empty room). I always stay for every band ESPECIALLY if i am in the show. It's just proper etiquette. too many bands don't get the recognition they deserve because of eleventeen year old wannabes who only wanna see "ace enders."
Other people also commented on it, and the consensus is that it does, and will continue to, happen. It's a sad fact, but it isn't going to change overnight.
I have a dream, to copy Mr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that one day our fellow musicians might be treated the way their fans would want to be treated if they were on the stage. I hope that I can do my part to support my favorite bands AND bands I've never heard. I will continue to invite everyone I know to come to every show I attend, and then strongly encourage them to stay for the entire time. While this happens more than I'd like to know, I know that it can be changed. As Ghandi said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world".
After driving our car throught the business district of Utah's capitol city, passing through the inner city neighborhoods, and finally ariving in the warehouse district, we park in front of a block of buildings that look nothing like a musical venue. We take a small walk and find an alleyway with a street sign that says "Kilby Court", but we haven't arived yet. Kilby Court, the street, is about 60 yards from the entrance to the end and is a mixture of warehouses, puddles, and, surprisingly, houses. Some of the last residences left in the area have stayed standing through the years all due to business at the last lot on the left in the alleyway. All the people the live in Kilby Court either work or have worked at the tiny venue that lays hidden in this alleyway.
When we arrive at the venue, there's a small entryway with a ticket taker on our right. We payed the 7 dollars a person ticket price reluctantly, the website had said 6 dollars, and the enter the small open courtyard. On a dryer day, there would be a fire crackling in the old half oil drum in the middle of the courtyard. There would most likely be people surrounding the fire and scattered around the lot, talking, smoking their cigarettes, and discussing their favorite music. But the day's rain has taken a toll on the mood, either keeping people at home for the night, or keeping them in their cars till the last second when they can make a mad dash to the venue. To the right of the firepit is a garage. It's old, it's kinda rickety, and it's been covered with graffiti and band related stickers through years of concerts and shows. To a music obsessed individual, like myself, this is heaven! We walk into the garage-turned-concert hall, aside from a small stage on the far left, a sound booth on the far right, and some sound equipment hung from the rafters, we're alone. It's a pleasant feeling, but it's short lived. The realization that this may be a negative thing becomes strangley foreboding. About 15 minutes after arriving, other people start showing up. They pay their toll and their hand is stamped, tonight's stamp is the face of Disney's Goofy. I start to get excited. My friends show up with their trailer full of musical gear and begin setting up on stage. It's amazing how much equipment they have! Since I last saw these friends, we'd all gone our separate ways for school and work, and apparently, they'd gone off the deep end in the musical world in the best way possible.
With three guitarists, Fictionist, my friend's band, definitely a bigger band than most. Alongside at least two guitars each, a vintage amp for each of them, and at least two one foot wide by 3 foot long pedal boards full of the latest and best sounding guitar effects pedals on the market for each, there's a bassist, a keyboard player, and a drummer. Each of those musicians has their instrument(s), amps, and any extra equipment. That's a lot of stuff. For about fifteen minutes, Kilby Court has become a cluster of bodies, tour cases, and instruments, and then they start playing. The music is, in my opinion, and apparently the opinions of everyone else in the neighborhood, absolutely perfect. People cheer, fans clap their hands excitedly, and people who haven't heard this band before become lifelong fans. Fictionist killed it. After moving their instruments and gear off stage, Ask For The Future, a band from Logan, Utah, sets up their equipment. This four man band does an amazing job. They play their instruments with talent and style. About this time, we start to notice an influx of young girls showing up at the venue. It's a strange occurrence, as these girls all seem to be under the age of 17, definitely not the normal crowd for this venue. Ask For The Future completes their set, clears the stage, and the next band begins to prepare. I look around and the mass of teenage girls seems to have tripled. I'm kinda nervous about it, but I focus on the instruments that are getting unpacked on the stage. It calms me down a bit.
The next band to play is called Allred, named after the lead singer/guitarist, John Allred. On the surface, he's a stereotypical All-American boy. He's clean, attractive, talented, well dressed, and has a wonderful voice. When investigated further, one will find that he's also nice, has a very creative mind, and is more than appreciative that we all came to hear his music. This is about the point in time when I realize why all the adolescent girls are in the venue. Small, high pitched whispers start at all corners of the room. They got louder as the band continues to set up. Hundreds of carefully made-up eyes darted from their friends and back to Mr. Allred. Camera phones and cameras were being set up, pictures taken, and texts to absent friends sent. John stepped up to the mic, plugged in his guitar, put his in-ear monitors into his ears, and the crowd absolutely freaked out! Half of us stood in awe as the other half, young and impressionable, jump up and down like little rabbits, and squirm from the excitement. The band begins to play, all the while enduring the flash from cameras. The front man and namesake of the band stopped between songs to thank the other bands, encourage his fans to stay for the next band, and tell stories about his songs. One such story was about when he spent a week in New Jersey recording. He talked about how he sat in a room with a guitar and a microphone, singing his songs. When the recording was finished, John walked into the control room, to find his producer moved to tears by his songs. At this point in the story, every girl in the house let out the stereotypical "AAAAAWWWWWWWEEEE!". But that wasn't the end of the story. Mr. Allred then told us who his producer was. Ace Enders, the singer and founder of The Early November, a poppy rock band from New Jersey that absolutely exploded on the national level a few years ago, especially among girls similar to the ones in attendance at Kilby Court. John Allred flashed his smile through the crowd as they react to his story about hanging out with their other musical hero. Surprisingly, nobody passed out and had to be dragged to the hospital, but I honestly felt like I was witnessing something i couldn't completely grasp the meaning of. This dude gets on stage, sings, picks his strings a little, and smiles a few times, and multitudes of girls fall at his feet. Aside from the craziness of the young crazy girls, the music was, at worst, exciting. I couldn't stop smiling. This man had some major talents. The songs were both catchy and full of meaning, something you don't find much anymore.
About this time, something insanely confusing happened. John Allred and his band, Allred, finished their set, they started preparing the stage for the next band, and I became absolutely disgusted with what happened next. Everyone under the age of 19 disappeared like roaches from the light. That left about 20 people. 20 people, of the 60 people that were there, were left standing in a space that suddenly felt massive.
The Devil Whale, a folky, indie band from Salt Lake City, got on stage next. They're one of the best local bands I've heard. Brinton Jones, their front man, stepped onto the stage with his guitar to start his set, a celebration of the release of their latest album. A six foot something tall bassist ducks through the back door and steps onto the stage next to his amp. The keyboard player and drummer both sit behind their instruments, and Jamie Timm, a guitarist from the band Band of Annuals, plugged in his guitar. It's Jamie's first tour with The Devil Whale and he definitely looked nervous. The music began and the band didn't miss a single note. Even their newest song that they had never played for a crowd went off without a hitch. Everyone in attendance was either dancing, smiling, or singing along with Brinton's voice, which coincidentally, is as smooth as a newborn's bottom. Just like the other singers, Mr. Jones would take brakes between songs and tell short stories. At one point he thanked the people who had been there since Fictionist played, but immediately took his statement back and said "I doubt that anyone here has been here the whole time". First of all, I had. Second off, That got me thinking. Where had all the people gone? And how did the guys in The Devil Whale feel playing to an almost empty venue? I got pretty angry about the teeny boppers that had come and then left before hearing the amazing end of the show!
I find it so frustrating that these young people are seemingly so closed minded to good music. And what makes less sense to me is trying to think of what these teenage kids had that was more important that night. Underage teens with enough money to spend on seeing one band, but not enough time to stay for an even better band? It just doesn't make sense to me.
After talking to a few people in the local music scene about this situation, I only got more frustrated. Jason Steadman, a local celebrity who starred in the 90's horror movie Troll 2 and owns a local venue said, "...having produced and promoted concerts for years and having managed several bands, I've dealt with this A LOT and I can't tell you how bad it pisses me off and makes me embarrassed for the Utah music scene. I've obviously seen this happen at tons of local shows, but I've even seen it happen at bigger concerts. I don't get it. Stay around and get your money's worth. What in the hell is so important that night that you have to get to? I mean, if a family member is in the hospital, I can understand leaving. Other than that, stick around....".
Along with that statement, a local musician named Nate Phelps says, "It is truly unfortunate, but, not too many people know how it feels to play for people who don't wanna hear you or just plain don't care (or even worse, an empty room). I always stay for every band ESPECIALLY if i am in the show. It's just proper etiquette. too many bands don't get the recognition they deserve because of eleventeen year old wannabes who only wanna see "ace enders."
Other people also commented on it, and the consensus is that it does, and will continue to, happen. It's a sad fact, but it isn't going to change overnight.
I have a dream, to copy Mr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that one day our fellow musicians might be treated the way their fans would want to be treated if they were on the stage. I hope that I can do my part to support my favorite bands AND bands I've never heard. I will continue to invite everyone I know to come to every show I attend, and then strongly encourage them to stay for the entire time. While this happens more than I'd like to know, I know that it can be changed. As Ghandi said, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world".
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
reflection paper #1: night hike
Reflection Draft #1
Night Hike
Night Hike
As a young child growing up in Salt Lake City, Utah, the Boy Scouts was always in my life. My older brother was always earning a badge for some sort of skill or another, my father was always going on hikes or camps with the boys in our home troop. So when I turned 12, it was just natural that I would join Troop 243, earn merit badges, go on adventures, and, like every other young man in the scout system in Salt Lake, earn my Eagle award before I turned 16.
On my adventure as a Boy Scout, I conquered many daunting tasks. From 4 mile hikes, to a 100 mile bike trip, I did just about everything. I learned how to start a blazing fire with only one match. Then, I learned how to do the same thing with no match. After that, like any young boy would do, I continued my evolution of fire starting and learned how to start the same fire with a cigarette lighter and a can of bug spray. We learned just how much sunscreen we'd need in order to not be crispy and burned, but at the same time not feel all oily and lotiony all day. I found the right, and wrong, way to sharpen my knife collection so they'd stay shiny and ready to be used for anything from woodcarving to cutting my food. The incorrect way brought life lessons of it's own. From the most efficient way to put a band-aid on myself, to how many Tylenol I'd need to stop my recently stitched up wound from throbbing.
Somewhere along this exciting path of learning experiences, ghost stories, and sunburns, I came to terms with some very unexciting facts. They include the following: you will get bitten by mosquitoes, hiking in the dark will have to happen, Mother Earth has her own schedule (if it's gonna rain, it's gonna rain), you will ALWAYS find at least one rock directly under where you place your sleeping bag.
Most of these facts of camping and hiking have become minor inconveniences in the years I've spent in the great outdoors, and some of them have become surprisingly enjoyable to deal with.
Jump ahead to the year 2010. It's the centennial anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America. The exact date is June 15th, and I decided to go on a hike with some friends of mine. We hiked up Bell's Canyon in Sandy, Utah. Bell's is a small little canyon, rich with wildlife and moisture. It's spend years being cut into the Wasatch Mountains by a heavy flowing river with gorgeous waterfalls. The trail itself winds through trees, shrubs, and super green plants, all the while climbing higher and higher through the mountain. As my friend Sean and I climbed, we saw beetles, caterpillars, moths, and plenty of water. The end result wasn't super impressive: we stopped climbing about 45 minutes from the destination, due to a storm on the horizon and super sore muscles. Little did we know what the hike down had in for us!
The views of the city, the foliage, and the cliffs were breathtaking! As the night started to creep in and the sun started to sink, bats began to appear in the darkness. We heard the nearly subsonic sounds of toads croaking in the trees. The most exciting, however, was the two massive, black moose we nearly got attacked by. Sean was in front of our two man caravan. We were discussing something that was probably less than important when we both heard the sound of antlers in the trees to our left. I got all excited at the prospect of seeing a huge deer buck, looked over, and saw a black mass. It stood about 9 feet tall at the top of the head, and another half a foot at the top of the velvety antlers. We stopped immediately. One of the lessons we had both learned in our years of scouting is that, while a moose is an herbivore, it WILL kill you if you scare it. Especially if you come between a mother and her calf. We retreated to a boulder about 15 feet up the trail so we could see over the trees to assess the situation. To our relief, there was no calf, and the two moose were both male. Our relief was only temporary, as we still didn't want to come within throwing distance of the two massive mammals. We began throwing rocks into the bushes surrounding the moose in order to make them both leave faster.
Our efforts were successful and we made it down the trail to meet up with some friends that had left before us. On girl voiced her concern for the other hikers having to hike in the dark. I was so enthralled by the idea of hiking in the dark that I almost wanted to go hike more! It didn't make any sense to me why anyone would dread the idea at all! Not to mention hiking in the dark in an area so full of life! My childhood was so full of other dreadful notions that I welcome the thought of a night hike. The more bats, darkness, moonlight, and sounds of rolling thunder, the better. I've hiked up, down, right, and left in dark so thick I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I've done it with moonlight, flashlight, starlight, and no light. I find it not only exciting, but also freeing. There's nothing around to take away from the connection between the earth and me. I get to feel relaxed about everything. There's literally nothing to worry about.
It made me wish that everybody could have experienced the mountains the way I had as a young boy.
Friday, June 11, 2010
summaries and analysis questions 6/11/2010
"Let It Snow"
David Sedaris
p. 89
summary:
The author discusses the difference between the snow in New York and the snow in North Carolina. When he was younger, he lived in New York where the snow would pile up in heaps, but then the family moved to North Carolina where the snow would usually melt within hours of falling.
This explanation set the scene for a story about a time when it snowed more than usual in North Carolina.
School was closed for two days. His mother got annoyed with the kids being home so often and locked them out of the house. The rest of the story documents the adventures the kids had outside while waiting to be let back in the house, and the fears of freezing to death that he had.
What is it?
This is a reflection of the Author's childhood and the experiences he or she had involving snow. It's in the form of a short story and seems very concise and easy to understand. The message is straightforward and easy to understand
Where did it come from?
David Sedaris, a radio commentator, writer, and playwright. Knowing these things about the author would make me expect a very well told story, something easy to understand, yet rich in explanation.
Who is the intended audience?
I would assume that the intended audience would be anyone who would be interested in reading about families. parents, children, etc.
What is the significance of the reflection?
This reflection's significance is that it's about the author's childhood. it's something that had enough impact on him that he still remembers to this day about the first time it snowed enough in North Carolina for the children to stay home from school
How is the reflection organized?
It is organized into a format of chronological events
1) living in new york
2) living in north carolina
3) the big snowstorm
How is it composed?
it is composed in a modern, straightforward style. easy to understand, very rich in explanations that help paint the picture that the author is trying to show.
Just Another Soldier
(blog)
Jason Christopher Hartley
p. 91
summary:
a soldier in Iraq reflects on a specific incident he experienced, involving explosives, a family of civilians, and his emotional reactions to the things he saw
What is it?
a blog
in the form of a short story about a soldier and the things he saw during a specific experience involving IED's and mortars
Where did it come from?
blog.justanothersoldier.com
Jason Hartley, a soldier from SLC, UT. knowing this would make me assume that what i'm about to read is an accurate view of a battle situation. it's a story about a battle, coming from the mouth of a soldier, not someone who doesn't know anything about war
Who is the intended audience?
the intended audience is probably anyone who needs to open their eyes to the truth about battle. maybe his family and friends
What is the significance of the reflection?
This is significant because it shows the way the real world is, it's a reflection of an important experience the author had and what it meant to him
How is the reflection organized?
it is organized in a chronological setting. it follows events as they happened
How is it composed?
the author represents himself as a knowledgeable narrator.
David Sedaris
p. 89
summary:
The author discusses the difference between the snow in New York and the snow in North Carolina. When he was younger, he lived in New York where the snow would pile up in heaps, but then the family moved to North Carolina where the snow would usually melt within hours of falling.
This explanation set the scene for a story about a time when it snowed more than usual in North Carolina.
School was closed for two days. His mother got annoyed with the kids being home so often and locked them out of the house. The rest of the story documents the adventures the kids had outside while waiting to be let back in the house, and the fears of freezing to death that he had.
What is it?
This is a reflection of the Author's childhood and the experiences he or she had involving snow. It's in the form of a short story and seems very concise and easy to understand. The message is straightforward and easy to understand
Where did it come from?
David Sedaris, a radio commentator, writer, and playwright. Knowing these things about the author would make me expect a very well told story, something easy to understand, yet rich in explanation.
Who is the intended audience?
I would assume that the intended audience would be anyone who would be interested in reading about families. parents, children, etc.
What is the significance of the reflection?
This reflection's significance is that it's about the author's childhood. it's something that had enough impact on him that he still remembers to this day about the first time it snowed enough in North Carolina for the children to stay home from school
How is the reflection organized?
It is organized into a format of chronological events
1) living in new york
2) living in north carolina
3) the big snowstorm
How is it composed?
it is composed in a modern, straightforward style. easy to understand, very rich in explanations that help paint the picture that the author is trying to show.
Just Another Soldier
(blog)
Jason Christopher Hartley
p. 91
summary:
a soldier in Iraq reflects on a specific incident he experienced, involving explosives, a family of civilians, and his emotional reactions to the things he saw
What is it?
a blog
in the form of a short story about a soldier and the things he saw during a specific experience involving IED's and mortars
Where did it come from?
blog.justanothersoldier.com
Jason Hartley, a soldier from SLC, UT. knowing this would make me assume that what i'm about to read is an accurate view of a battle situation. it's a story about a battle, coming from the mouth of a soldier, not someone who doesn't know anything about war
Who is the intended audience?
the intended audience is probably anyone who needs to open their eyes to the truth about battle. maybe his family and friends
What is the significance of the reflection?
This is significant because it shows the way the real world is, it's a reflection of an important experience the author had and what it meant to him
How is the reflection organized?
it is organized in a chronological setting. it follows events as they happened
How is it composed?
the author represents himself as a knowledgeable narrator.
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