Los Angeles, Be Kind

Scott Hutchison lives in LA now. Did you know that? Why does this feel so important? Maybe because I actually think he's the wittiest person alive. Or because, like me, he feels in a kind of limbo between isolated, overcast coastlines and sunny hills. Somewhere between Hollywood and Hollyrood. 

His new project, Owl John-- which he says he hopes will appeal to people "who hate Frightened Rabbit"-- is my favorite album of the year. Of course, I don't hate FR. I would love any project of Scott's.

The last month or so has been testing the seams of the life I've sewn together here. They were always loose stitches and I wasn't sure the center would hold a few of those days. I have asked Los Angeles to be kind. And the world in general. I've felt sad about a lot, in a way I haven't done in a while. As you may have noticed, I haven't been writing much.

Luckily for me (and for you) Scott has been writing for me. 

Get Owl John. It's out now.

PS- Scott, now that you're here, let's be friends. For realz.

Such a villainous grace
Oh I don't know what you've done to your face
Some nights I can't figure out quite where your heart is

Oh Los Angeles, be kind
No more trouble or red lights
I can learn to love you in good time
Oh Los Angeles, be kind

In Cold Blood - Be My Friend, Morgan Kibby

Morgan Kibby makes me want to dye my hair dark and stop wearing a bra. Let my curves out or down, whichever way they want to go. Be freckled. Be soft. Be diaphanous. Keep my sailor's tongue. Live Morgan Kibby (or White Sea, as the show is actually billed) was one of the most genuinely surprising, thrilling evenings of music a jaded artist (or anyone else for that matter) could have. 

She was the anchor in an evening I call the best accidental free concert ever.  

You see, the lovely Miss Vinessa Shaw and I are big fans of Moses Sumney (more on that later). He was having a month-long residency of free concerts and Vinny and I had been trying to organize a time to go. Then, after 24 hours of driving down the coast of California with the mega-duo of Brian Kearney and Gretchen Schrafft (more on Big Sur and an Irishman's first dip in the Pacific soon) I felt like 1. I need to MOVE-- sway in a room with strangers and have nothing to do with my clutch or my car-- even with wide open spaces, with the idea of the Ocean. (Whoops! White Sea!) and 2. I'd love something free to do with my fellow poor-artist friends.

Thus, we all ended up at the "Moses Sumney Concert," where White Sea was his guest. And it was the best concert I've ever been to. 

I'm not really sure I've ever seen a more exhilarating live performer than Morgan Kibby. It has all the drama and height of a Florence + The Machine Show, but with way more prowess, vocal precision and scale emanating from a much smaller operation. 

But then, this isn't Morgan Kibby's first rodeo. She formerly front LA Band, The Romanovs (good name, ya'll!) IMO is the element that makes M83 the shit. She fucking wrote Midnight City. If I wrote that song, I'd retire. 

But nope! That's not really an option for Morgan because of that set of pipes. You guys, in the room, that night, we all just looked at each other in awe. I am open to the awe of amazing singers. I am so often so humbled by the voices I get to hear and write for in my line of work. But I am spoiled by those voices and thus rarely floored by someone's ability. 

I've been waiting for White Sea's first full album, In Cold Blood since that night. I wish I could tell you it lives up to the live concert, but it doesn't and in fact, it can't. That's not even the point. But it is wonderful, it is lyrically bold, it is my jam, and you should get it.

In closing, Morgan Kibby, be my friend. If you get a call from Kade's cell phone, it's just me and I've stolen his phone so I can talk to you. Don't freak out. 

White Sea
In Cold Blood
New album out now via Crush Music/SONGS on iTunes for $7.99 or 
listen to it on Spotify

Not my favorite song on the album, but the video is gorge.

Frightened Rabbit's alter ego, Owl John

CONCEIVED IN TWO DISPARATE WORLDS: THE ISLAND OF MULL ON THE WEST COAST OF SCOTLAND AND IN LOS ANGELES ON THE WEST COAST OF THE UNITED STATES. MAYBE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME THAT THESE PLACES HAVE MET. MAYBE NOT. OWL JOHN IS ABOUT WHAT CAN BE FOUND IN BOTH OF THESE STRANGE WORLDS. IT'S ABOUT FINDING A BIT OF FREEDOM IN AN ANXIOUS, ROTTING BRAIN. IT IS ABOUT BEING AN ALIEN MAN. IT IS ABOUT LOSING YOUR WITS COMPLETELY THEN TRYING DESPERATELY TO FIND THEM AGAIN.

The conjunction where Scotland meets Los Angeles is not a new intersection for me. It's every day. But I'm glad there's a mind as articulate as Scott Hutchison out there to explore it and express it. I'm happy and always seeking to find "a bit of freedom in an anxious mind." 

Scott apparently has so much going on in that head of his, he had to have a while additional band and persona for it. Enter Owl John. And apparently:

John is a homeless. 
John is a priest.
John is a witness.
John is a beast. 
John is a weirdo. 
John is a thief. 
John is a wino. 

I look forward to the entirety of this album and hope it's released soon. Until then, I'll listen to "Hate Music" and wait. 

Tori Amos & The Light Princess at the National Theatre London

Of all the new musicals I've been eagerly awaiting this past year, London-premiering "The Light Princess" is the one I'm kicking myself I'll miss. With music by Tori Amos and based on Scottish Fairytale by George MacDonald, it basically has the potential to be perfect.

As produced by the National Theatre, I'm not sure it is though. 

There are already some interesting similarities between the storyline and The Little Mermaid-- and I don't just mean a red-headed heroine. But one thing I'm sure all theatre-goers can agree on is that no show should share production design with The Little Mermaid. Especially not this one. It, like TLM, seems to vacillate between up-scale ethereal, and plastic toy cartoon. For the record, I think the first is the way to go. See above. And the lowest photo below. 

It's interesting because Tori's aesthetic is pretty much perfect. But then again, knowing personally how little control most musical theatre writers have over design elements, I suppose it's not surprising she'd lose at least a few creative battles. 

 Anyone have a bootleg? I'd kill to hear some of this.

"Cups" in Gaelic

Nothing cheers me up when I'm down like group singing and Gaelic. When an entire group of grown, elected, old politicians refuse to work together (or bother to learn how bills work) it's nice to think of large groups (600!) of Celtic kids coordinating cups and harmonies together in my favorite language. These kids are Irish (from a school in Conamara), not Scottish, but no matter.

Makes me long to live again in a country where people don't shut down the government about the right to affordable, universal health care. SIGH.

Bonus: "Can't Hold Us" in Gaelic.
PS- I'm off to see Frighted Rabbit. Oh, how I love them.

Music Monday - Sophie Ramsay - The Glassy Mountain

Of all the creative processes I've witnessed, or seen up close, or felt a part of in peripheral ways, watching Sophie, hearing her stories, having soul-chats, and being her friend while she was writing this album, I count among my greatest life honors. Now you can be a part of it too! (And I hope you will.)

This is a really special album from someone who sees the world in a very special way. Describes it in a vibrant style. And conveys it with vulnerability and such a seeking spirit. I miss Sophie and Scotland and thinking about the world the way she does every day. I hope you can contribute to this. I've never heard anyone articulate grief like Sophie. 

Give a look at her indigogo and hear some tracks from the album here. 
(For the record, I'd encourage you to go in for a donation level where you get some of Kate Aspinall's gorgeous gorgeous artwork. Sigh.)

The album is a powerful personal exploration of grief. The songs vary in their style from intimate, folk songs that feel a bit European, to moments of visceral lamenting, to gently upbeat pop songs. It was produced by Jim Sutherland, and features performances from some of the best musicians in Scotland in the realms of folk and jazz: Euan Burton, Steven Christie, Pete Clark, Fraser Fifield, David Hart, Chris Peacock, Matheu Watson and also brilliant Jim Rattigan from London. Most of these musicians will play at the Edinburgh launch at Scottish Storytelling Centre on the 2nd November. 

#danceponydance

So I feel like this is going to be the first in a series I'm tentatively calling "Silly Shit That Makes Me Miss Britain." I think this speaks for itself, so I'll refrain from adding too much commentary. #danceponydance. I miss the UK.

More on Shetland ponies and Scottish tourism here.  To make your own pony mash-up, click here. 

Hope you're having as good a Saturday as this little dude. 

Happy Birthday Burns Friday Links

Tonight, I am having a Burns Night Supper at my house. In the grand tradition of almost all my parties, almost no one is coming. (At least I can always count on McC!) At least the weather is obligingly Scottish.  Nevertheless, I am making vegetarian haggis, neeps & tatties and cranachan. Sophie has even offered to skype in to sing us some "Auld Lang Syne" at midnight (8 AM Scottish time) but to be honest, I doubt we'll make it that long. 

In any case, I love this holiday. It's also my dad's birthday, Rob Shafer's birthday, and Kate Floyd's birthday. All lifetime favorites. 

Here are your links. 

- One of my favorite articles (from the D. Patz) on Burns
- Tartan picks for a stylish Burns Night. 
- I. Love. This. Song. I wish all bands sang with Scottish inflection. 
- My next read, Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend. 
- 25 greatest unscripted movie scenes.
- Facts about the new Mad Men series. Oooh, so soon!
- This is hilarious!
- I always loved you, Jimmy Carter. 
- There's a part of me that agrees with this.
- But then, I do also love Andrew Sullivan. 
- Salon's guide to memoir writing
- Oooh, new Stephen Poliakoff film project
- Rice is going to have a CLASS ON DOWNTOWN ABBEY next semester!

But I Have Been Privy To Something True...

I remember with utter clarity the moment Sophie first performed "Something Old, Something New" for me. She had just finished it, Mama Louise was consulting on the newest additions, and we were at Bamff in the Morning Room. Everything was cast in a kind of golden/pink light. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. It came to symbolize something. Something old and something new-- and all the "splendid times that would probably ensue." (And they did!) I beamed, still stunned and still wondering how I had fallen into this surreal crevice of people who seemed to be just embracing me all the time. And I remember thinking that I needed to pay attention to this moment because Sophie's album was going to be something so special. So unlike anything in contemporary song writing. 

Looking at the landscape of music during my lifetime, I have a hard time naming many, if any, lyricists who leave their guts on the table the way Sophie does. F. Scott Fitzgerald said that price you pay for doing first rate professional work is that you've got to "sell your heart." Sophie does that and somehow manages to keep it too. She is unflinching from the grief she's experienced. And even though I missed that darkest chapter in her life, when Fred was quickly and unexpectedly taken from her, I can't help but know -- because she has succeeded in conveying to me through song and soul-- the strange dark place she journeyed through.

In "Something Old, Something New," the vivid New York she experienced in the aftermath of Fred's death is perfectly etched, and we see the city as a perfect conduit to move her into the alternate version of her life without Fred. And the friends who would help her. The upside down bridal imagery is arresting. It breaks and eventually raises my heart to think of her re-imagining her wedding and her future. 

"Song I Never Wrote For You," was the first original song off the album I heard. And also, the last song I heard Sophie play live on my last day in Scotland. She was just wrapping up recording the album. I heard some not-quite mixed tracks. And on Dublin street, as I went through clothes to give away, her simple, pure piano version echoed down the hall to me as she played. I thought about Fred and I thought about Sophie and how I would miss this part of my life so dreadfully. No part of my American life is as simple, or bare, or uncomplicated, or earnest as any moment I spent with Sophie. Except for when I listen to her album from my house in Hollywood. 

Sophie Ramsay is a blessing to this or any life. Add her to yours. 

The Other Guys - Christmas Number One

From the adorable St Andrews boy vocal group that brought you "Royal Romance," with nearly a million views, we now have the delight of "Christmas Gets Worse Every Year." That's right. The Other Guys are at it again, and this time they're aiming for Britain's coveted Christmas Number One. 

The song is  mostly heartfelt, but built around a tongue and cheek joke. It's always nice to have some new tunes to add to the Christmas canon. Especially one with a modern sensibility.  

Not to mention, they really outdid themselves with this video, directed by Maia Krall Fry. From beautiful lights to the whole lot of them standing atop The Cairngorms Mountain range in Scotland. That's commitment. 

Americans, you probably know about the Christmas Number One as a phenomenon from the movie, Love Actually. But it's really a thing. So get it on itunes.

Best of luck to you boys!  Here's my little push towards your Christmas Number One. 

Downton Abbey Christmas Special...in Scotland!

While The Hour has been thirst-quenching for basic British television watching needs, nothing can fill the gaping hole that is always left by Downton Abbey when it goes. Luckily, it's almost time for the Christmas special! 

Smartly, Julian Fellowes finally decided there needed to be an episode in Scotland. So this year, we see the Crawleys packing up and heading north to what is actually Inverary Castle (or In-a-ray-ra as you apparently pronounce it.) , seat of Clan Campbell and home to the Duke of Argyll. It is also my favorite castle-- one of the top 3 most beautiful places I've ever seen. 

Who knows what Inverary will be standing in for according to the Downton world. My guess is its to do with the parents of libertine cousin Lady Rose. For those of you Americans who haven't yet watched season 3, you'll find out who she is soon enough. 

I also loved this great article in the Scotsman recalling Scotland's place as the swank vacation destination of the day. I'm only sad this was not written by my pal Sandy or any one of his various pseudonyms-- Tibby Redfern, et al. 

The special is feature length, too. So two whole hours of Lady Edith embracing her new freedom as a lady journalist, Branson getting a little somethin-somethin, and whatever dramatic miscommunication they've (surely) drummed up for Lady Mary and Matthew. I just hope no one dies. :)

Click here for an extended preview. Thanks as always to Period Movies for the head's up!

Rainy Day Indulgences: Thistle & Shamrock & Vicar of Dibley

When I miss Scotland (always) I listen to NPR's wonderful Thistle & Shamrock. Hosted and produced by Fiona Ritchie, this long-running, much-awarded program celebrates Celtic music traditions. She also offeres the program as a free podcast, Thistlepod. 

It pairs perfectly on an extended washed-out weekend with an old comfort that makes me think of snuggling on the couch at Howe Street with Zaza: The Vicar of Dibley. For those unfamiliar, it's a bit of an institution in the UK (one of Richard Curtis's early successes): a playful comedy about a female vicar in a small and eccentric country parish. Of all British comedies, The Vicar of Dibley is matched/exceeded only by Monarch of the Glen in its warm-fuzziness. (Also, in hotties. The show eventually featured Johnny Depp and the smokin Richard Armitage.) Americans, you get Dawn French & Co in all their absurd and delightful Britishness here with The Vicar of Dibley's Immaculate Collection. Below, is the pilot for your viewing pleasure. 

Bundle up with either of these things, skip the coffee and go straight for the tea, and you'll have your rainy afternoon set. 

All Of My Days - Alexi Murdoch

How delighted I was to be watching television and hear lovely Scottish musician, Alexi Murdoch, featured in a Sprint cell phone advertisement. In addition to being a lifetime nomad and partaker of various locale, (Athens! Scotland! North Carolina! Los Angeles!) I've been a big fan of his mellow music for years now. 

Today's been a pretty trying day. Today, I wish I were in a Sprint commercial (unlimited life!) instead of the AT&T nightmare that ate my whole day and I still don't have a working phone. It's like the world does't want me to rejoin it. Fine. I'll just relax with McC and Alexi Murdoch and imagine ourselves somewhere more dreamy. Greece, perhaps. Alexi, See you there?

On My Last Day in Scotland

On my last day in Scotland, I woke up not quite knowing where I was and then remembering I was in a place where so many of my happiest Scotland memories live: Zaza's flat on Howe Street. 
On my last day in Scotland, I drank Artisan Roast and told Sophie about my brother. 
On the way there, we saw this sign. And I literally had to stop, in the street, and laugh. For a while. 
On my last day in Scotland, for once, it wasn't windy. 


On my last day in Scotland, I sorted through some old clothes while Sophie played me the piano version of Song I Never Wrote For You. When she played it again, this time singing, I started to cry thinking about how much I would miss her, and my life here, and thinking about Fred, who I never met, but felt like I did because of Sophie and her music. 


On my last day in Scotland, there was some business as usual, as I prepare for jobs and work in New York. I paid some bills. I still had to write this blog. But mostly, I am trying to be in this place, one last time for now. Soak up the paintings of tragic queens in galleries and light through the arched museum windows, and my friends, who will always always be a high priority for me. No matter how my priorities change, I think it's safe to say that people always have and always will be my priority.


On my last day in Scotland, we'll have a dinner party at Anna's once more. We'll dance around the living room to Sam Cooke-- or maybe someone will even try to make me ceilidh. I hope not. But I hope that Torcuil winds me up and Taylor calls me Ryann. Ferguson. And Zeph calls me Small American. And we own it. I hope I cry some more and hug people a little too long and laugh too loudly. 


These years have been priceless. I can't believe they happened to me. 

How Can Lightness Insist?

Let's just say I'm still unpacking my experience of seeing Kay Ryan and Seamus Heaney and Simon Armitage and Wole Soyinka last night. I'm still unpacking it in light of all that's going on in my life right now. How unbelievably funny and serious it was, all at once. How just their presence on stage; the feeling that they knew what we were going through, made both Sarah and me cry. 


But for now, I'd like to leave you with these lines and her thoughts on lightness. Flipping the heavy into the light is a Buddhist karmic idea that I've long been drawn to. I'm glad Kay feels the same.

If a fairy makes a fist

who's impressed?

How can lightness insist?

Years ago I wrote a poem that went on too long but started well; it began, "If a fairy makes a fist/ who's impressed?/ How can lightness insist?" And that is what I would still like to know: how can lightness insist? In The Unbearable Lightness of Being Milan Kundera writes wistfully of the eponymous substance, describing how Beethoven once converted a perfectly inconsequential joke into a "serious quartet." Kundera contemplates how much more remarkable it would have been if Beethoven had achieved the reverse, making "heavy go light."

I don't know why lightness isn't more talked about, more valued, more pursued in poetry. I suspect it is out of the fear that one will be"taken lightly." But I ask, is there a sensation more exquisite than the feeling of having the burden of oneself borne off by a poem? The burden only, note; not the self. One's atoms are mysteriously distanced from one another. That is to say, one still has all one's own atoms, but for the moment they are not the trouble they were.

I think it bears repeating. "Is there a sensation more exquisite than the feeling of having the burden of oneself borne off by a poem?" No, no there is not. One still has all one's own atoms, but for the moment, they are not the trouble they were.  Yes.

There Are No Scottish Women

Stewart Lee (my birthday twin) belabors the point a bit, and his other "observational gold" moments fall a bit flat to me, but no Scottish women? That's right on the money. And I even know a lot of Scottish women, but in the context of his point, he's just utterly correct. Think about it. 

A Saturday at the Victoria and Albert Museum

On Saturday, my pal Helen invited me out for some Kensington fancy lunch and a trip to the ballgown exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum. Helen is a newer friend, but she was described by at least one close friend as "The Scottish Version" of me, so... pretty promising, right? She said she wasn't sure I'd want to go and I said, "Dude, you had me at Ball gown."


Well, that panned out, and in fact, we spent so long at lunch that by the time we finally showed up at the V&A, the Ballgown exhibit was sold out for the day (it was opening day, after all. Oops.)


Even thwarted, we had a good time wandering around the beautiful gardens (I vowed to come back on a day with better weather to eat outside and actually catch the ballgowns.) I also have a tendency to like art museum gift shops better than the art itself. I know I'm not alone there. And I imagined coming back to the V&A's sprawling shop when I'm rich to deck out my house with their cool stuff. (One such cool print: London Fields: No Underground. Get Over It.  Word up. 

The Fairy Pools on Isle of Skye

When you have to do something sort of scuzzy (like, say, cram all your belongings into a small estate vehicle and drive them South to London on an ugly sort of scuzzy Scottish morning) I find it's best to mentally project yourself somewhere else. Today, I choose the Fairy Pools in Glen Brittle by the Cuilins on the Isle of Skye. 

As you dear readers will know, Skye is a special place to me-- homeland of my friends, spot for good times, and setting of my novel. But I think it's easy to see why pretty much everyone is a bit in awe of the Fairy Pools. There's not a lot of modern day magic left in the world, which is why these little glittering things seem like a little portal to some more medieval time. In fact, they probably are, if you swam deep enough into one of the caverns. 

I'm about to wade in pretty heavily into Skye folklore and fairytales, so I'll let you know what magical stories about the Fairy Pools and the white witches I think you need to know about. Hope you're having a dreamy Saturday!

Top 10 Things I'll miss about Edinburgh

After a year of writing and soul searching, it's the end of the road for Edinburgh and me. At least for now. While I won't miss the bullying wind or sunsets at 2:30 PM, there's lots that I will miss about the Athens of the North. 


10. Looking out my window at a film set. The beautiful St Stephen's Church
9. Spying on other people's weddings at St Vincent's Church
8. Walks along Water of Leith
7. Rock concert sing outs after hours at the Wally Dug with Taylor
6. Crossing the street to hang out with Zaza for wine & art & Horatio Hornblower
5. Artisan Roast's house blend beans
4. Access to New Town's beautiful private gardens
3. Glowing evenings at Calton Hill with friends
2. Black Isle Blonde and the entire food menu at Iglu
1. Arguably the most dependable set of friends I've ever had. Who ARE you people, and why are you so so good to this small, spunky American?

A Walk to the Reservoir

Past the sheep and disassembled turbine, up the hill, looking out over the valley to Bass Rock and Fife 
And through the heather and looking past the convent of nuns
And through the woods, down the slope, through the fences and over the wires, 
Down the narrow strip to the reservoir. 
Out on the landing, you get vertigo a little bit.