Christmas is over, and it was nice. Time to get back to normal—if I had any idea what “normal” is. (I probably have to take the Bill Clinton route, and define “normal.” What do I want it to be?)

In two weeks—Friday, 8 January—is my appointment to meet the band in Astoria (60 miles away) I’d applied to play rhythm guitar with. New band, no gigs yet; from my end, it’s just an opportunity to do Something Completely Different. The bandleader wants to do covers, old rock ‘n’ roll with some modern country (which is pretty much the same thing), and I know probably half the songs on his list even if I can’t sing ‘em. I have a Lynn Orloff song to musicate (if she’s willing)—a very fast bluegrassy love song (technically not bluegrass music, because no one dies in the last verse). Lynn is a very competent lyricist, and I haven’t done any songs of hers yet. One more copy of the Joe Songbook to mail out, too—along with the last of my thongs.

I have a couple of playing opportunities to take advantage of—the supposedly weekly blues jam down in Newport on Sundays (I’d get to finally meet Jason Jones if I did that), and Whitney Streed’s comedy thing at the Mt. Tabor in Portland (on Thursdays—I could combine the trip with some other business in Portland). Both, again, would be something different.

One problem with making music videos of my songs is the lyrics are usually chock full of imagery that is probably best left up to the imagination—it doesn’t transfer well to video. There’s a way out, though. Porter Wagoner’s “Committed to Parkview” (his last song before he died, I think) simply had footage of him and/or the band playing in what looked like an abandoned nursing home; it was even in black and white. I can “go minimalist,” too, leaving nearly everything up to the imagination.

I sort of did that in the video of “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House.” I just filmed Rufus doing Dog Things (mostly eating) out in the yard at Sara’s house (where the fire damage had been repaired), and used still shots (also of Rufus) with the usual snide text commentary during the Rap, and it didn’t come out bad. (My camera work could use work—but I learned a lot about the limitations of the camera in the process.)

I can do “The Dog’s Song” the same way. I can shoot five minutes of footage of a hyperactive kitten doing destructive things (I know someone who’s living with one of those). I never need to show the dog.

In the same vein—only slightly more complicated—is “The Strange Saga of Quoth, the Parrot,” the pre-election talking blues I wrote for Southern Pigfish. Nearly all the song can be beach footage, with maybe some tavern stuff (one verse sort of takes place inside a tavern). I can do it all myself if I don’t have to be in the video—and I probably do not want to be in the video: one of the “mystiques” I’d like to preserve about Southern Pigfish is no one ever sees the band (it isn’t necessary to come out and say that’s because the band doesn’t really exist). I could shoot some footage of someone else lip-synching some of the vocals if I could find someone willing. And in the spirit of Porter Wagoner, one never has to see the parrot.

I could use some feedback on the videos I’ve done; I’d like to show them to an unsuspecting crowd, in other words, and see what their reaction is, much as I’ve done with songs at open mikes. There is a potential venue: Whitney Streed was running a monthly comedy showcase in Portland (I’ve played there once) that included some multi-media stuff. I’ll have to get her the videos and ask if it’s something she’d be interested in.

Joe