All posts tagged: Music

Two Places At Once

My greatest first loves always start with music and cities. St. Lucia will always be New York for me. I have an uncanny ability to photographically remember where I was, and what I was doing,  when certain songs were playing at specific moments in time. It’s a bizarre, useless, auditory sensitivity I’ve grown accustom to loving and loathing. Everyone has those things. A smell. A place. For me, it’s always been music. A song will come on, and I’m standing right where I was when it first played. I’ll know what I was wearing. I’ll know who I was with. I’ll know what the mood was. There’s no undoing memories like that, however meaningless or meaningful they may be. The first time I heard Bon Iver’s “Holocene”, I was standing alone on the Williamsburg Bridge. I was wearing a green utility jacket with leather sleeves, perched atop the pink railing. The lens of my Nikeon D3000 was pressed against a gap in the protective fence. It was meant to keep people off, but there I was scaling it for a photo. …

Renegade Jams: Installment I

A few weeks ago I introduced a new series called Renegade Jams….And then I went on vacation, so it took a backseat to lying on the beach and riding a bike around SoCal. But I digress…We’re finally kicking it off!  In case you’re new to this series, each week I’ll feature 5 songs I can’t stop jamming to, complete with the entire playlist below. I’ll be adding to this playlist weekly, in the event that you’d like to subscribe & rock out alongside me. (Do it!) Let’s get started. #1  “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen I hinted in the intro post that I had a special attachment to Springsteen. I grew up on The Boss. Just for fun, here’s a family favorite for your entertainment of Baby Carley dancing on her father’s feet to “Ramrod.” #Mindthemullet. Bruce is my all time favorite. No competition. I saw him in concert when I was in middle school, and had the opportunity to see him again this year for my 28th birthday. If you haven’t had the chance to see …

Just A Bunch Of Words

It is no secret that I lead a musically charged life. Some days, I have a better conversation with my guitar than I possibly could with any human. Looking back, the only real constant in my life that has truly remained aside from change, is music. I came across a tweet today that resonated with me. Ron Pope is a musician, and if you haven’t already heard his music, I can say without reservation that he writes passionately, honestly, and unapologetically. Not only is he a talented musician, but if you’ve ever been to one of his shows, you can tell that he is a genuine person. He manages to remain elemental to the core reasons he began his career as a musician, yet dynamically displays his talents for the world to hear. He is kind to his fans, humble in the face of the spotlight, and has yet to turn into the fame monster that many musicians in today’s music industry fall victim to. Seven months ago, I entered The Middle East in Boston. …

Progressions

On my tenth birthday, I stood impatiently by the screen door at the log cabin, waiting for my father to carry the big secret indoors. My parents had been tip toeing around for weeks regarding my birthday present. For two individuals who were no longer married, they had displayed an amount of teamwork that could only mean something big was coming, something special, something I had been eyeing for months. Whenever my mother would drag me out to go grocery shopping, I would accompany her only on the stipulation that we could stop into “Daddy’s Junky Music.” I only asked for one thing for my tenth birthday. My dad had even taken me into the music store to HYPOTHETICALLY pick out the one I wanted…IF I were lucky enough to be given one…Just in case…. Somehow, it was still a complete surprise when my father carried my first guitar by its neck up the porch steps and into the living room at the log cabin. I squealed, and darted toward the guitar, ripped off its …

“Timshel”

“This is something we don’t do very often, but we love the acoustics in this theater, but we’re going to need you all to be very quiet.” Quiet? Yeah right. “We are going to sing without our amps and microphones, just the four of us.” Asking a theatre full of drunken Irishmen to be quiet was like asking a group of five year olds to be quiet, if the five year olds had each been given a liter of soda and sugar filled pixie stix. I’m sure you can figure out what to substitute in this scenario, a pint of Guinness or five. Still, Marcus Mumford insisted. Blake and I stood together in disbelief. The crowd became loud with excitement, hollering over the balcony and pumping their fists wildly in the air. The four members of Mumford and Sons stood tall, side by side, completely unplugged. No amps, no microphones, just an acoustic guitar and four voices. The theatre began to still, and four voices melodically rose to the highest rafters of the small theatre …