Depression is balls. Anxiety is an asshole. That basically sums up my life the last few months.

There’s been so much good music released so far this year that I’ve wanted to talk to you about, so many awesome bands and artists that have rolled through Chicago that I’ve wanted to check out, cool local kids making rad music that I’ve wanted to interview but I just can’t seem to bring myself to write about it or send an email asking for a quick interview.

Going to a show alone used to be my favorite past time. It brought me comfort to be out there alone taking notes, trying to sneak in a few photos and getting at least one song on video. Now, the thought of being out alone in a sea of people for an hour to watch a set brings me so much anxiety I rarely attend concerts. There have been a couple exceptions such as the Jeff Tweedy solo shows in March that reenergized the ol batteries and gave me a chance to make some new friends, a crazy bunch of freaks who hang out at Via Chicago. I also caught that last minute Smith Westerns show at Schuba’s a few weeks back. It made me anxious but it was also an early show and that made it a little less scary.

My anxiety has worsened as I’ve gotten older. I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me or anything like that but so you’ll get a picture of where I’ve been the last few months. On my ”bad” days I can’t even stand 2 feet away from someone on an El platform because it freaks me out. It isn’t fun. It’s no way to live.

Reluctantly (and under my doctor’s supervision) I’m trying some meds out and I’m slowly coming to terms that pills aren’t just for fun but they actually help me function and lead a productive and active life. I started keeping a journal in an effort to process my feelings, to track triggers and because it helps clear my head. As does yoga. I never fancied myself someone who would ever be able to get into yoga but I found a lovely teacher at a gym near work and she has shown me that yoga is indeed for everyone and my stupid jerk brain can actually shut up and relax for a few minutes. I also knit. A lot. Knitting keeps my hands busy (so I don’t chew off my nails) and it’s a calming, quiet activity. I’m actually getting pretty good at knitting.

I’ve gone back and finished some old drafts and though I don’t think I’ll ever post them here I needed to feel like I can finish what I started instead of just collapsing into a heap of anxiety on the floor because even finishing a review of a 7 song EP can be overwhelming. Routines / rituals help a lot and I’m finding ways to incorporate healthy routines into my life. I’m trying to find room to make writing about music a daily thing. I’ve taken to setting the iPod on shuffle during my morning and afternoon commutes, picking one song and trying to knock out at least 100 works on that one song. It was incredibly difficult to do but it’s starting to feel comfortable, it’s starting to feel like something I can handle.

So bear with me. Some days there won’t be anything here, other days you might find an entry or two. I’m trying. I’m working on it.

Otherwise, life is pretty great. I’ve got Mr. Bee who has been incredibly patient and understanding and encouraging me to get help, to keep going to yoga, and to relax. I’ve got Baby Bee who is quite possibly the raddest little kid on the planet and my sole reason for getting out of bed and dragging a comb through my hair. I’ve got kick-ass friends who have been supportive without even realizing they were taking on the lord’s work. It’s a nice life we’ve built, I’m learning to enjoy that.

Life is pretty great. My brain is fucked up.

Thanks for your texts and emails and thanks for giving me a heads up on a show you think I’d like to check out. I usually spend a lot of time psyching myself up to go and then just feel overwhelmed and stay in and knit. I’m trying. I’m working on it.

Slowly but surely I’m starting to feel like myself and before long you can expect to see me out and about, with several cameras tucked discreetly into my bag. In the meantime, I’ll work on posting on here more. I mean, I can’t totally ignore the fact that Riot Fest’s line up totally kicks ass. Maybe I’ll make that my next post so this Debbie Downer shit isn’t at the top of the page.

Thanks for reading.

In solidarity,
~Bee

PS: These are great and properly put depression into words/pictures: Part 1 Part 2

Summer is almost here, that magical time in Chicago when we forget about the pain in the ass that was winter and take to the streets to soak up some Vitamin D and watch awesome bands perform at various festivals around town.  Now in it’s 5th year, the popular Downtown Sound series returns to Millennium Park every Monday beginning May 27 through July 29 at 6:30pm.  It’s all free but show up early spread out your blanket on the lawn.

This year’s line up has us pretty excited for the following:  Sharon Van Etten, who was in town a few days ago with Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, takes the stage June 3; Glen Hansard  goes up June 10, his excellent Rhythm and Repose was released in 2012; we caught Lee Fields & The Expressions at last year’s Hideout Block Party and he had us grooving and feeling good all night.  All in all, a very solid and diverse lineup.  So who wants to meet up and sneak some wine?

The full line up is below:

Monday, May 27, 2013

Lee Ranaldo Band + Marc Ribot’s Ceramic Dog

Monday, June 3, 2013

Sharon Van Etten + Speck Mountain

Monday, June 10, 2013

An Evening with Glen Hansard featurintg Lisa Hannigan and members of The Frames

Monday, June 17, 2013

Daniel Lanois + Brokeback

Monday, June 24, 2013

Carolina Chocolate Drops + Angela James

Monday, July 1, 2013

Lee Fields & the Expressions + Theo Huff and the Platinum Band

Monday, July 8, 2013

Dawes + The Cairo Gang

Monday, July 15, 2013

Fatoumata Diawara + Alasdair Roberts and Friends

Monday, July 22, 2013

The Handsome Family + AZITA

Monday, July 29, 2013

Dessa +  Psalm One

Thanks for making me want to go.

A young Cuban-American influenced by Delta blues, cultivated in Chicago with a dash of Latin rhythms, all brought together and honed in Madrid – that is the lovely Vivian Garcia. Ms. Garcia’s debut album, Cold Bed, is a collection of intimate blues songs I’ve had in heavy rotation since it’s mid-December release. Ms. Garcia has the command and power of a flamenco singer with an honest and vulnerable charm that can take lines like, “If love is everything / then what am I to do / when everyday I walk these streets alone / and I come home to a cold bed too” and deliver them matter-of-factly without a trace of bitterness.  Currently in Chicago for the holidays, the CD release party is this Thursday at Barra Ñ. Below is the video for Cold Bed.

Cold Bed from FirstWorldCinema on Vimeo.

It was like this except you know, shitty

From the age of 5 until I was about 17-18 years old I studied classical piano.  I had to beg the parents for a solid year to get some lessons and after wearing them down the church organist was recruited and a crappy old Korg organ was acquired.  To this day I have no clue where it came from and was (and still am) convinced my dad found it in an alley.  It was a total piece of shit and the cord was held together with electrical tape and had very limited sounds but I loved that thing and learned and obsessed and showed them I was serious as fuck when it came to piano lessons.  The Korg eventually led to a proper upright piano and lessons at a small conservatory and the expectation of performing at recitals and competitions.

These days the only time I get to play my piano are the times I find myself at my parents’ house alone.  With a musically-curious Baby Bee in tow and a rambunctious nephew it’s hard to get a few moments with the piano to myself.  I’ve been considering trolling Craigslist for a used keyboard that can be discreetly stored in my 1000 sq. ft home but I’m a bit of a chicken when it comes to Craiglist.  So if you know of someone or are a someone with a keyboard that needs a good home hit me up.  My family and neighbors will thank you.  I honestly didn’t mean this to turn into a personal ad, ah well.

In the meantime I’ll troll YouTube for tutorials and take notes that will travel with me to Berwyn at some point this weekend.

I posted this link earlier today and called for a prayer circle for Chavela Vargas.

Vargas is currently hospitalized in Mexico in critical condition with caridac and renal issues.

It is serious.

But I’m not ready to say goodbye.  I’m not ready to let Chavela cross over to the other side.

I’m not ready to say goodbye to the woman whose career didn’t begin until she was in her 30s, after years of singing on the street. I’m not ready to say goodbye to the woman who in her youth dressed as a man, smoked cigars, drank everyone under the table and carried a gun.  I’m not ready to let go of the woman who had an (alleged) affair with Frida Kahlo when the artist was married to Diego Rivera.  I’m not ready to see the woman who didn’t come out as a lesbian until the age of 81 leave this world.  I’m not ready for that voice to die.

That voice.

A voice described by Pedro Almodovar as “the rough voice of tenderness.”

A voice that captured the over dramatic experience of an entire continent of Latin-ohs.

Each song of heartbreak she sang carried the weight of a woman who lived a secret life.  Living in morally conservative Mexico she never discussed her sexuality until she was much older and even then she didn’t tell us everything because we didn’t need to know.  The final verse of ‘Vamonos’ (Let’s Go) sung by Chavela is devastating when you know that she lived the majority of her life a closeted lesbian.

Vamonos, donde nadie nos juzgue
donde nadie nos diga
que hacemos mal
Vamonos alejados del mundo
donde no haya justicia
ni leyes ni nada
no mas nuestro amor

(Let’s go where no one judges us
where no one tells us
we do wrong
Let’s get away from the world
where there is no justice
no laws or anything
only  our love)

I’m not ready to say goodbye.  I’m just going to grab that old bottle of mezcal I keep around for the really bad days, pour myself a double, throw on “Chavela Vargas En Carnegie Hall” and have myself a good old fashioned Mexican drunk cry.

Gracias Chavela.

Tu Me Acostumbraste.

Under The Westway.

The Video: It’s a simple concept: musicians in a room playing a song with a camera or two rolling.  It feels so intimate and it’s nice to see Damon Albarn and Co’s faces again.  Not to say Gorillaz isn’t fun but it’s just nice to see Albarn again, ya know?

The Song: It’s such a lovely ballad that starts with the hopeful line, “There were blue skies in my city today” but from there it’s a mournful piano-driven ballad.

Jesus Christ, I miss Blur something fierce.