When the fun was over, I took my exhausted little self who hadn't showered in a day and a half, covered in crusty mud and glue over to Kristin Hersh's house for a refreshing lemonade date. To my credit, I did stop at a gas station and put on a clean t-shirt to try to draw the eyes up from my mud caked legs and shorts-fashion first. The last time I saw Kristin was over a decade ago when I was a DJ on a big alternative radio station in the northeast and after rocketing straight to indie rock stardom with the Throwing Muses, Kristin was on tour promoting her first solo album, Strange Angels (which is what she calls the people who support her work financially in exchange for her giving them free music-whether it be CDs, downloads or tickets to show). With all the amazing women musicians I heard and met in New Orleans, I just couldn't leave without finding Kristin Hersh (who splits her time between Providence and NOLA these days) because to me she is the queen of indie rock.
We took our lemonade out to the porch and she got me up to speed on all her current projects (which you can learn more about at http://www.kristinhersh.com/). The lowdown: (i) she just finished recording the new 50FootWave album in LA with Mudrock, (ii) she is finalizing a new solo album (on which she plays all the instruments), (iii) she is working on several projects for CASH Music (which she started with Donita Sparks of L7, Robert Fagan and her husband/manager Billy O'Connell in her words "to take the dollar signs out of music and help artists circumvent the industry . . . which should die" http://cashmusic.org/) and (iv) she is writing her "memoirs" which she explained will really be her taking a diary she kept from when she was 18-19 and turning that into a book.
I can't wait to read this book because it covers a period of her life when the Throwing Muses were just ramping up to becoming one of the greatest indie bands to ever come out of New England, she got pregnant with her first child and she was diagnosed bipolar. On top of that, she said "it's really all about how much I loved my car" (which she was basically living out of during this period of her life). What's not to love? When I asked her why she was writing this book now, she explained that for years people had been offering to ghostwrite her memoirs for her and when she eventually agreed, she realized that meant giving some guy access to her kitchen for a month or more so he could ask her about her feelings all day and all night. Cooking soup at this point, she turned to me and explained, "I don't do feelings. So, after I basically fired like the third guy who tried to write my memoirs, I just decided to do it myself."
When I finally excused myself because I was late for a date in Lafayette that night, she walked me out to my "Sweet Ride!" and then confessed that now that she had seen my sweet ride, she wanted to come with me. It's a natural reaction to seeing my car, you just want to climb in it and never get out. She also invited me to join her for some portion of her upcoming tour, so we promised to keep in touch and try to meet up again on the road this summer. yee ha.
Hugs were had, I got some parting advice about how I should consume something other than beef jerky and redbull when I'm on the road all day, and then I was off to a wine tasting in Lafayette hosted by the promoter of the off broadway production of the color purple that I met in Jackson that night I ended up at the hotel bar after my fruitless search for live blues. I knew when I pulled up and saw an M5 and an S550, that I was going to like these guys (I always get along with car people). The short version is that even though I arrived after the dinner and still unshowered and generally disgusting (though I did stop at a gas station to throw on some crisp white pants to draw the eyes down from my greasy hair-I'm really mastering this whole fashion thing), I had a fabulous night with about 25 of the biggest players in the area who welcomed me in like I was part of their boys club. We spent the night drinking several bottles of fabulous red wine and talking about every detail of my trip, while they gave me endless advice about where to go and people to contact along the way.
I was told that before I left Lafayette in the morning I had to do two things-have breakfast at Edie's where I would have the best biscuits I've ever had and then swing by Charlie G's (where Holly Goetting is the Executive Chef) for a bowl of Duck and Andoullie gumbo, which even when Charlie G left the table all these guys swore was the best gumbo in Louisiana. I followed my instructions carefully and was glad I did because the biscuits and gumbo were amazing. Then I was off to Austin, which for all of you Lafayette guys reading this who swore it couldn't be done in less than 7.5hrs in a regular car and 6.5 in mine, took me exactly 5.5 door-to-door. Though, in fairness, it might've taken longer if I stopped to mourn the bird I killed on the way, which, for the record, wasn't my fault, he was flying at an unreasonably low altitude.
I can't wait to read this book because it covers a period of her life when the Throwing Muses were just ramping up to becoming one of the greatest indie bands to ever come out of New England, she got pregnant with her first child and she was diagnosed bipolar. On top of that, she said "it's really all about how much I loved my car" (which she was basically living out of during this period of her life). What's not to love? When I asked her why she was writing this book now, she explained that for years people had been offering to ghostwrite her memoirs for her and when she eventually agreed, she realized that meant giving some guy access to her kitchen for a month or more so he could ask her about her feelings all day and all night. Cooking soup at this point, she turned to me and explained, "I don't do feelings. So, after I basically fired like the third guy who tried to write my memoirs, I just decided to do it myself."
When I finally excused myself because I was late for a date in Lafayette that night, she walked me out to my "Sweet Ride!" and then confessed that now that she had seen my sweet ride, she wanted to come with me. It's a natural reaction to seeing my car, you just want to climb in it and never get out. She also invited me to join her for some portion of her upcoming tour, so we promised to keep in touch and try to meet up again on the road this summer. yee ha.
Hugs were had, I got some parting advice about how I should consume something other than beef jerky and redbull when I'm on the road all day, and then I was off to a wine tasting in Lafayette hosted by the promoter of the off broadway production of the color purple that I met in Jackson that night I ended up at the hotel bar after my fruitless search for live blues. I knew when I pulled up and saw an M5 and an S550, that I was going to like these guys (I always get along with car people). The short version is that even though I arrived after the dinner and still unshowered and generally disgusting (though I did stop at a gas station to throw on some crisp white pants to draw the eyes down from my greasy hair-I'm really mastering this whole fashion thing), I had a fabulous night with about 25 of the biggest players in the area who welcomed me in like I was part of their boys club. We spent the night drinking several bottles of fabulous red wine and talking about every detail of my trip, while they gave me endless advice about where to go and people to contact along the way.
I was told that before I left Lafayette in the morning I had to do two things-have breakfast at Edie's where I would have the best biscuits I've ever had and then swing by Charlie G's (where Holly Goetting is the Executive Chef) for a bowl of Duck and Andoullie gumbo, which even when Charlie G left the table all these guys swore was the best gumbo in Louisiana. I followed my instructions carefully and was glad I did because the biscuits and gumbo were amazing. Then I was off to Austin, which for all of you Lafayette guys reading this who swore it couldn't be done in less than 7.5hrs in a regular car and 6.5 in mine, took me exactly 5.5 door-to-door. Though, in fairness, it might've taken longer if I stopped to mourn the bird I killed on the way, which, for the record, wasn't my fault, he was flying at an unreasonably low altitude.
This is the house that "sweat equity" (not to be confused with Jack who might have actually broken a sweat) built.
Kristin Hersh and my "sweet ride"
Edie's (and owner Stanley Leece)-Best biscuits ever and deelish local organic eggs
Charlie G's-The Duck and Andouille Gumbo should not be missed if you are in these parts
Love Kristin Hersh, love her song "Your Ghost", it is a permanent on my iPod.
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