That’s the common denominator here–Jeff Tweedy. I’m not going to sit here and write some lame-ass fan-girl history of Jeff Tweedy. I’m just here to talk about last Saturday night.

When I found out that I was going to be able to see Jeff Tweedy in what’s called a Living Room Show, I threw up on myself. I’m not making that up. I literally threw up on myself. The Living Room Shows are fundraisers. A bunch of people get together, pool their cash, and bid on a LRS. Then weeks and months of wrangling and figuring and schedule checking and all kinds of other bullshit happen. And then you find out that on July 24th, 2010, you’re going to be sitting in someone’s house on a folding chair, just a few feet away from Tweedy, listening to him play.

Plus, you get to request a song.

It took me forever to figure it out. My top pick was an Uncle Tupelo song called Flatness, off of No Depression. When I listen to that song now, it makes me kind of wistful and teary-eyed because I recall my youth, which happened sometime in the sixteenth century.

Flatness, Uncle Tupelo, Jeff Tweedy

Beer makes you weary
But you need something to get along
You stare at the flatness
Beside the dark home
They’ll not hear you whisper
This isn’t where it ends
Your hand holds the bottle
That has become your last and only friend
I’ve lost all hope
There’s hope for you
If not just in the possibility
Of a better next day
If not just in the simple fact
There’s no other way
You lie on that couch
And try to dream once more
But your only goal is to sleep
Until the news is over
And outside the leaves are all changing
But you drink to forget
Someone you once met
Stands blocking the bright orange sunset
I’ve lost all hope
There’s hope for you
If not just in the possibility
Of a better next day
If not just in the simple fact
There’s no other way
So open up those curtains
And drink up the daylight
Just by the brightness
Open your doors wide
‘Cause things don’t get better
But some people do
There’s darkness in this life
But the brighter side we also may view
There’s darkness in this life
But the brighter side we also may view

Hmm. No wonder I got all verklempt while he was playing it. It has even more resonance for me now than it did when I was young. Cripes.

I need a drink.

I didn’t really expect him to play it. It was a shot in the dark, throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks, wishful thinking. Which he also played. But he did. And when he was done he looked at me and said something about it being much faster on the record than he played it (much faster) and that he hadn’t played it in 16 years, 20 years.

Thanks, Jeff. Way to make me feel really fucking old.

Anyway. So, he plays for a few hours. Some guy asks that his request be dedicated to his girlfriend, and when the song was over, he got down on one knee and proposed to her. What? Yep. Great memory for them, and my sister-and-law and I were all wiping tears and shit (the couple was sitting right in front of us) but once it was over, it was like it never happened. Very strange.

What did he play? I knew you were going to ask that. A huge variety. I’ll update with the playlist once I have it. But that’s not really the important thing here. I mean, no. Of course that’s important. But I’m really just trying to tell you all about the experience of it. Plus, I kinda like keeping that to myself.

When you think about how you become a fan of a particular band or musician, or a style of music, it’s not really something you can put words to. Well, maybe you can. But I can’t. It’s a feeling, a sense you get from the music that it feels right and it sounds good, and the lyrics resonate with you on some level–the music and the words combine and it’s like whoever wrote them and whoever is singing them and playing the music knows just exactly how you feel and they went ahead and made it into a song for you because you yourself didn’t know otherwise how to express it.

I read in an interview with Tweedy once that the song from A Ghost is Born called At Least That’s What You Said is hard for him to play because once the singing part is over, the rest of the song builds into this crazy crescendo that reminds him of a panic attack.

And that’s weird, because I feel the same way about that song. It makes me feel, internally, exactly the way I feel when a panic attack hits (or hit, because I don’t have them much anymore, thank goodness). The way it builds and builds and my mind gets more crowded and my heart starts pumping.

But I used that song as a way of training myself down out of a panic attack. Because it ends, and so do panic attacks (though it’s hard to remember that when you’re in the midst of one).

I wish I’d mentioned all that to him when I sat next to him and told him how I got the big vinyl poster of the cover of last July’s Spin that featured him on the cover. But I babbled about that and there were 30 other people who wanted a turn and he had this look on his face like “Get this crazy bitch off this couch!”

So, it’s not just that I get the music. It’s that the music gets me.

In the Spin interview that is behind the cover of which I have a 3′x4′ vinyl replica of, which now bears his signature, Tweedy says, about Wilco (the song) from last years Wilco (the album):

“I always think of the song as meaning not just Wilco,” Tweedy tells me [not ME, the guy writing the story] at the band’s rehearsal space, the Loft. “I always think that song is saying, ‘Your records will love you, baby.’ The overall message is to find consolation through music. I think it’s sincere, but at the same time, it’s meant to be a little bit funny.”

And yes, it’s funny. But yeah, my records love me. If they didn’t, I’d have to rely solely on books. Jesus. What a life that would be.

So thank you, Jeff Tweedy, for giving me and the other people in that basement last Saturday an amazing experience, and for sharing your time and energy with us. And for signing my poster and for listening to me babble about whatever it was I babbled about and for taking a picture with me.

So a friend and I started a website: Your Stickers Are Stupid. We make post pictures of the stupid stickers we see and we make fun of them. We’re just getting started. Visit us and help us poke fun.

Looks like I’m going to have to do a little cleaning up around here. Lots of dead links in the sidebar, lots of new stuff to add. Good thing it’s way too damn hot to go outside. Like, dangerous hot. Like, get to a cooling center if your air conditioning is broken hot. Like, the dogs don’t even want to go outside hot.

I’m quite sure the only people who land here have either searched for the phrase “The Best Nachos Ever” or “Hey Everybody I’m Looking at Gay Porn,” but just in case…

My last year or two have been absolutely insane. I’ve moved into a new house, I’m teaching fiction writing at Columbia College, I write a column for my local paper, and I’m slugging through being a poor artist (I DO NOT LIKE IT) trying to finish my thesis/novel.

Right at this very moment, I’m listening to the radio and killing time until I have to take my 1 1/2 year old Border Collie to his Agility class, and also waiting for a promised gigantic, dangerous and horrible blizzard. We were warned to stock up on supplies. I bought a couple of pot pies, a box of hair dye, and a bottle of vodka.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll resurrect this puppy. I’ve been swearing to myself that I’d set up my website (victoriagonia.com, don’t bother, there’s nothing there right now) and blog on a regular basis. I’ve also been swearing to myself that I’d clean out my closet, but I still have jeans in there from the mid 90′s, so don’t hold your breath.

But when my son walked up behind me and uttered the above, I felt it absolutely necessary to take a trip to my dear old blog again.

‘Course, that’s all I got for the moment.  But I’ll be back.

John Butler is a wiry thing–there’s an energy about him that makes the air in his vicinity feel charged with electricity. We wandered a bit until we found an empty corner and stood, me madly scribbling in my notebook as he talked.

I saw you earlier this afternoon on the Kidzapalooza stage with your daughter–that’s my most favorite area of Lollapalooza. How old is she?

She’s five, her name is Banjo.

She was great!

She made it, didn’t she?

So much character! I’m curious, how did your music life change when you had children?

They gave me hope, and a lot less anger. I was a really angry person for a while there. It’s surprising that I even had kids with that attitude. But something happens, they come out, this little hot bundle of love, and you’re changed.

During your “adult” set this afternoon, you introduced “Satisfied” by saying, “This song is about the state of music television. Every time you turn on a channel that’s supposed to play music, all you see is shite reality television.” I was a pre-teen when MTV first hit, and it changed everything about music for me…

It’s a funny thing.

Some channels should change their name. If they want to put brain-numbing shit on, fine. I mean, I love them, they play my music, but if it’s not music they’re playing…

You know, I love hip hop music, but when you see what it’s representing to young people these days. They’re advertising the same rocks and minerals their ancestors were enslaved to get out of the ground…

There’s some…Jedi Mind Trick, The Roots, Jurassic 5…

When MTV first came out, you had your skater thrash…that’s now pop music.

Avid watchers of MTV are missing out on a lot of good music–maybe I’m getting old, but I find myself saying “Turn that shit off!” when my kids are watching MTV.

It’s ‘soul’ …it doesn’t matter if it’s Gillian Welch soul or Rage Against the Machine soul. The roots go so deep…you don’t see a lot of that soul in popular culture or music.

Feeling able or free to criticize the government, to say what you’re feeling or thinking…there’s not enough of that. That’s what’s so great about Eminem…he said what you were thinking…it was scary, but he was saying what you were thinking.

I think that’s what frightens people about Eminem–sometimes it’s scary to hear the thoughts you’ve learned to suppress said out loud.

When you introduced “Ocean,” you said “this is for everyone who wants to take this country back from all those motherfuckers…” It was a beautiful song. Inspiring, really.

Instrumental…

Yeah…what’s your take on US politics? The US’s standing in the eyes of the rest of the world? I think a lot of young people are so ethnocentric in a way…they don’t realize how the rest of the world sees this country.

You know, I think the best way to look at it is…capitalism is eating itself. Free enterprise has gone to the extreme. Democracy can be bought or sold to the highest bidder. That’s all happening in front of your listening audience. They don’t want to step out of line, but…

They need to, this country needs people who are going to step out of line, no?

The system is completely corrupt. People wonder why Hitler, or even my own country’s John Hawkins commanded such… I don’t like either one of them, don’t get me wrong, but there was that sense of leadership, Obama is capturing our imagination. You want a leader who gives you hope, who believes in something.

There’s such fear–mortgage, debt, the government–it’s a great tool and they’ve learned how to use it against people.

Obama represents some kind of hope of getting out from under that fear, I think.

What’s the difference, for you, between playing big festivals like this and playing ‘regular’ concerts?

The only thing that changes is the intention. You’re trying to touch people, inspire them, and be inspired by them.

There’s all that sonic competition and infinite open space.

You put in as much soul and truth as possible. It’s such a strong medium…it’s hard to ignore its power–it’s a tenuous responsibility. You can affect people.

My thanks to John for taking the time to speak with me.

Doing media work at Lollapalooza is absolute insanity. You set up all these interviews ahead of time with different bands–and though you might have some concept of what these people look like from photos and even having possibly seen them live either earlier in the weekend or earlier in life in general, seeing them up close, in the flesh, is an entirely different animal. Not to mention that the air above Grant Park is so filled with electronic interference–phone calls don’t go through, text messages pop up on one’s phone twelve hours after they’ve been sent. So, you either choose to stay put in one advantageous spot in order to try to spot the people you’re scheduled to interview, or you wander around in a daze attempting the same.

I saw Dennis from afar, looking a little lost, but purposeful. Tall, lanky, dressed all in black but for a red cross on his shirt jacket, on a 90 degree, humid Chicago afternoon, bald head topped with a hat. Though I was intrigued by this guy, I really had no idea he was, in fact, the man for whom I’d been waiting to speak to about Flogging Molly. Then, improbably, a phone call came through from Flogging Molly’s press contact, telling me to look for a tall, lanky guy dressed in black, and bald. It was a bad connection, and I thought he said, “He’s Italian.” I’m from Chicago. I AM Italian. You tell me someone is Italian, and bald, and all I’m going to picture is a tubby guy in an untucked silk shirt and fantastic shoes, eating pasta and sipping chianti. I will not, under any circumstances, picture anyone who looks anything like Dennis.

But I, as usual, digress.

According to their bio on their official site,

“We’re not a traditional band,” explains Dublin born singer/songwriter, Dave King. “We are influenced by traditional music and inspired by it, and we put our own little twist on it.”

“If it didn’t have mandolin, accordion, fiddle and whistle, it would be punk rock, and if it didn’t have guitar, bass and drums, it would be traditional Irish music,” King admits, adding, “You can’t be bothered being labeled.”

Flogging Molly has been around since 1997, and has since held true to that refusal to be labeled with one particular sound description.

St. Patrick’s Tour, how did that come about?

Every year, we have to play somewhere on St. Patrick’s Day. Fans always want us in their city. We’d play in a different place every year, until we thought it’d be better just to make a tour of it. We do it every year now, we call it Green 17.

How do you choose where to play on the 17th?

It’s funny–it depends–the venue, the promoters–people think NY, Boston, Chicago, but there’s always other big bands playing in those cities then. Lately, we’ve been playing in Phoenix. That city has really taken to us–we get played on the radio all the time like any other big, huge band. It’s hard to play an outside venue on the east coast in March. Phoenix has a great outdoor facility. It’s such a big day, so many people want to come–you don’t want to play some small club. You want to have as much room for as many as possible.

What was it like playing Coachella this year?

It was an honor to do it. I’ll tell you, it was something else. You know, I had dreams my whole life–but I never imagined we’d ever be playing something like Coachella. It’s huge–it’s such an honor to play there.

When you’re playing festivals, do you check out other bands? What does that do for you?

Hell yeah! Europe does these all the time–we were over in Europe for two months. You’ll be backstage with System of a Down, Radiohead, it’s amazing. You go to the smaller stages, check out new bands…aside from the performance itself, that’s the best part.

Do you sense a difference in the audiences at festivals vs. club shows? How do you address that?

We don’t change anything. People are there to have a good time. Promoters will put us on–we’ve played first thing some times and there’s 30-40,000 people there going crazy. Our band gets people going–there’s something that really works between the band and the audience.

You’re based in LA but you’ve recorded in Ireland. What led you to decide to do that?

Nobody lives in LA anymore, actually. Dave, our singer, moved to Ireland–we write where Dave lives. We followed him there, wrote in a little garage in the Irish countryside–it was a fantastic experience. We recorded at this little studio called the Grouse Lodge–in the middle of nowhere, with this little pub attached to it.

Dave really spearheaded the whole thing.

What are you working on now? Float was just released in March, so I assume you’re touring.

Touring. That’s it.

I’ve read that you, as a band, don’t want to be labeled. What does that do for you? Are you freed in a way?

I never considered myself as an artist. That’s for like Da Vinci…

Labeling…it’s like asking someone what kind of person you are. Music is deeper than that. The lyrics and what they’re saying. If you label yourself, that’s what you are. Life changes you. Music is the same. To label is so limiting.

So, you’re at a smaller, more independent label then?

We’re with Side One. We started with them when they were first starting out–it was just two guys, Joe and Bill. We’ve grown together, we’ve built a relationship after 10 years. It’s a personal relationship–I can call up and I don’t have to go through some secretary or something–I just call them up–I have their cell phone numbers, their direct numbers . With major labels–there’s more pressure. We don’t have that. We do what we want. You trust each other–things are working, why change it? It’s perfect.

*****************************

Flogging Molly plays the kind of music that leads one to let loose–the passion with which they play, the passion they feel for their music, is evident, and it’s that kind of give-and-take between performers and audience–the feeding of one another–that makes them work so well, especially as a live band. Their energy and that of their audience is one of those pleasant and powerful vicious circles that are so rare.

Thanks to Dennis for taking the time to speak with me–it was a pleasure.

Newsviners to Cover National Conventions

This is, by far, one of the most amazing opportunities I have ever been presented with.  I am, in a word, ecstatic.

I will be posting my coverage here on VikiBabbles, but more importantly, my coverage will be featured on Newsvine and at msnbc.com.

It’s a thrill of a lifetime.  Armed with notebook and pen, laptop, digital still and video cameras, and an obscene amount of coffee and liquor, I am going to bring you my experience of the Democratic National Convention.

I don’t even know what else to say about it!  Watch for updates on coverage plans, as well as pre-Convention articles.

And wish me luck.