A conversation with Sacramento's melancholy-folk/pop musician

Profile/Preview: David Houston, "Dark Buddha" or "Native Sun?"

2012-08-23T15:08:09Z

The first time I saw David Houston perform with String Theory at Luna’s Café, it was the last Saturday in July. Despite the day’s triple digit heat, most of the seats were full, and the energy level was high. Requests were made. Stories were being told around the room and from the stage.

From her table in front of the stage, Eva tells me she has seen every performance Houston has given there, beginning in the 1980’s; she commutes in from Cameron Park, that evening with her friend, Susan, also a long-time fan.

“David’s probably too humble to say anything,” they are eager to let me know, “But the White Stripes are covering one of his songs.”

The previous week, I had my first encounter with Houston. He appeared for our interview dressed in black, despite the seasonal heat, and his equally dark glasses remained in place despite the indoor setting. If this sounds typical for a musician, it is the last time I think of him that way. He is gentle in his demeanor, and speaks so quietly at times, that I have to lean over to hear him, despite our already close proximity in the corner booth. When he describes his music as, among other things, “melancholy,” it feels apropos, even before I’ve heard it.

Houston’s modest manner should not be confused with reticence. He is generous, not only with information about himself, but in support of his fellow musicians and the local creative collective at large.

He believes the Sacramento music scene itself can be very supportive—“depending--but there are exclusive circles. I’ve always tried to cross those boundaries.” Houston makes an effort to go and see friends in other genres to support them.

He says he has also witnessed a lot of direct mentoring from various musicians over the years, seasoned musicians helping up and comers on their way.

“A current example of that is Kepi Ghouli taking a couple of really talented young acts, Dog Party and Pets, on tour.“

In his estimation, the challenges facing the community aren’t with its members, but with the community itself. He says the city lacks places for creative types to congregate, outside the typical club and bar scene, where young people can be included. He laments the loss of just such a place, True Love Coffeehouse, a now defunct café that kept late night/early morning hours and catered to an all-ages crowd.

Inclusion is a running theme in our conversation, and, as it turns out, among Houston’s friends and colleagues when they speak of him. It seems he has a connection of some kind to everyone, and his name sparks more reverence than revelry.

At one point in our interview conversation, after realizing we have a mutual acquaintance, he asks me to relay a message.

“Would you tell her that my mother passed away?” He adds, as if an explanation is needed, “She knew my mother.”

Later that day, when I forward the news, I receive a simple, one sentence reply: I loved his mother.

At his show at Luna’s a week later, it is clear that people also love David Houston. Not because the crowd is large, but because it is warm. Friendly.

The gig at Luna’s started some 13 or 14 years ago when Houston’s close friend Kevin Seconds (Seven Seconds) asked if he wanted to do a show at the café. After years of it being a regular thing, it was eventually added to the Luna’s event calendar the last Saturday of every month. Currently, it is David Houston’s stage, along with string quartet, String Theory, with whom he has played the last two or three years.

The opening act that night—it changes from month to month as Houston drops in on open mic nights or other events around town looking for talent that he thinks would be interesting to play with—happened to be Kevin Seconds and his wife, Allyson, who told me Houston was known affectionately as the “Dark Buddha,” a nod to his consistent wardrobe and wisdom.

Much like in the one-one-setting, Houston almost fades back, initially, his voice unfortunately close to being overwhelmed by the music. Eventually he gains a presence, and a certain balance is achieved with the strings

The strings are amazing. Strings are not what you’d expect to accompany this music, accurately described by Houston as melancholy folk/pop, and their addition brings a lushness to each tune that is at once fresh and classic.

Not all of the tunes are melancholy, and Houston’s humor is evident as the evening progresses. The show began and ends at a late hour, but friends and fans linger.

When I asked why he had chosen to play with a string quartet, Houston had said it was something different, and different was good.

“For instance, You don’t always want to say in the pop genre—first chorus, first chorus, bridge,” he continued, “Playing with real strings has a different magic. Their passion for their magic comes through.”

The same can be said about David Houston.

String Theory:

Michael Frost, viola
Alison Sharkey, cello
Shawn Hale, bass
Reylynn Goesslin, violin

David Houston and String Theory with special guests can be heard August 25th, 2012 and the last Saturday of most months at Luna’s Café.

www.lunascafe.com

www.davidhouston.com

Lewis Black In Sac

2012-01-15T20:48:12Z

Lewis Black had high expectations for the 21st Century. They have not come anywhere close to being met, and he is not amused.

He is, however, quite amusing.

Although he claims to be disappointed by the direction the world is taking, he also admits to being swept up in the inevitable pull of progress. He started a web site; every performer needs a web site. But then he found out he needed a Facebook page to promote his web site!

It all came to a head when one morning he woke up after a drunk and discovered he was now on Twitter!

All this, he laments, and not a single flying car.

Not what he had hoped for at all.

The Community Center Theater was respectably full on Saturday night when first John Bowman and then headliner Lewis Black took the stage.

Bowman did about 45 minutes, focused mainly on the travails of touring: lesbians in New Hampshire, being bored in Biloxi, and perils of pooping on the tour bus.

Black took the stage at nine, revved up and ready to rant.

His signature finger shaking singled out the shame of the 21st Century, the onset of adult ADD due to a surplus of electronic technology, and his confusion over why anyone would want to “keep up with the Kardashians.”

The last 30 minutes of the 80-minute set were devoted to politics.

Black scolded audience members for being members of the Republican Party—or the Democratic Party. He blamed them for supporting anything that was happening in Washington. He assured all of the Republicans that President Obama is not a Socialist, because, he, Lewis Black, is a Socialist, and he would know. He said there are too few of them to take over the country and most of their leaders are in cemeteries, so not to worry.

There were times he looked as if he was having a seizure.

Clearly, he was in his element.

At the opening of the show, Black cautioned the audience that, “Humor is not the best medicine; medicine is the best medicine,” and advised not to howl through an illness, but to see a real doctor!

I certainly wouldn’t argue with that that.

On the other hand, I think everyone in the audience felt a lot better after the show than they did before the show.

There’s something to be said for humor done well.

MidLife GridLife - Match.Complicated

2011-10-28T06:38:06Z

My dog died and I signed back on to Match.com.

Make of that what you will; it’s the way it happened, and I assume there’s a correlation (That’s me showing off all the stuff I learned in my accelerated Statistics class over the past eight weeks, too).

The thing about Match, for those of you not in the know, is that if you drop your subscription, they don’t automatically delete your profile. Prospective dates can still see you and contact you, you just can’t respond.

Cruel, right?

You can, of course, delete your profile, but it’s a pain in the butt to create the thing, so if you have any intention of re-upping, it’s much easier to just lie dormant.

The first thing waiting for me was a message from my ex-without-boundaries:

“It’s not too late
For you
And me
And your sister”

One fine feature of Match.com is the ability to block people from viewing, searching, or otherwise interacting with your profile.

Moving ahead, there were emails—and *winks* actually, a non-verbal way of letting someone know you’re interested—from several men in other states. I always wonder about this. First, my criteria clearly state that I’m looking for someone within 25 miles of Sacramento.

But then I wonder, is there some code I’m missing? Are they looking for porn pals?

No matter, I brush these off with the auto-eject button, the “Say No, thanks,” and begin looking for faces I haven’t seen hundreds of times among the ones that have become like family.

The truth is, there is someone I would rather be with. Someone who, for awhile said and did good things for the right reasons, until he realized he was doing it, panicked, and decided it was too complicated. I fought the good fight for minute, but by then it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was too complicated. It was exhausting. Hurtful.

So I retreated to my (other) friends, and family, and activities.

I un-friended him on Facebook, so I wouldn’t have to see his picture every day.

And then my dog died.

So I wrote him a horribly self-indulgent weepy email about losing my two best friends.

And I joined Match.com

At least I didn’t call him.

(I have standards.)

Enter the pilot.

Ten years younger and 8 inches taller.

He started emailing me from across the country, then calling, and texting.

This, I typically don’t do, this building a rapport prior to meeting face to face, but he was 37, 6’4” and my dog was dead!

You get the picture. And who keeps in touch every night? I’ve had husbands I didn’t talk to that much. It was lovely, really. He flew rich people all over the country. Interesting.

Back in town, he made every effort to meet me the first night, couple of drinks.

Next night he picked me up for dinner, opened the car door for me—getting out, not just getting in—and came in for a while afterwards.

There are a lot of flight references that could be made here, but that would be cheap and easy (see what I mean?). I could talk about the baggage that made me doubt that he was relationship material—just had to sneak one in—but that isn’t where I was going.

Two reasons I bring this up, with regard to dating: my suitor’s follow-up to our date, and my sister’s reaction.

I’ve complained in the past about people (men) who simply disappear, or who ask for a phone number on a first date, distinctly giving the impression that they intend to call, with no intension of ever doing so.

Not this guy.

Well, not much.

He did tell me I’d passed the “Second Date Test,” which he’d made a big deal about as the equivalent of some people’s first date test, but he was a bit on the spot.

Only a deaf and blind person with no hands would have missed the third degree burns he had received from past ultimatums over everything from his flight schedule to his love of cats.

Nice guy, definitely.

Moving forward, maybe not so much. Hate to be a hater in 1.5 dates.

What he did do, was write me an email the very next day—long, courteous, grammatically correct for the most part—detailing why it would never work out.

Fair enough.

The funny part—and I’ll be honest, not quite so funny when I received it as in retrospect—was that he was rejecting me primarily for two things: my inability to accept his schedule (based on the quoted statement, “If you’re interested in me, I know you’ll find time to see me when you can”) and my lack of affection for Rocklin and Roseville.

What are the odds, I ask you? He lives in Roseville. Asked where I wanted to meet, and I said, “I really hate Roseville; the places are just so generic.” How had I managed to keep it hidden so long?

Dating is so complicated.

As for my sister, she couldn’t understand why we didn’t just agree to, well, keep it casual, since he’s gone all the time, and I haven’t found anyone serious?

I started to respond that I hadn’t had that kind of relationship since my…and realized: I never really had that kind of relationship. Not intentionally, anyway.

I’m just not booty call material.

Even with my beloved puppy passed on, for me it’s still Go Big or Go Home.

Or, I guess, sometimes both.

Rock and Radio Redux - New Space and Extra Dates to Visit Your Rock-n-Local Past

2011-09-30T05:20:30Z

As you enter, to the left is the cornerstone collection of Crabshaw Corners and Oasis Ballroom artwork from Roger Shepherd, Jim Carrico, and Jim Ford. Rock enthusiasts may marvel over the nearly complete collection of psychedelia from the Sound Factory. And any native Sacramentan over a certain age will wax nostalgic at the wall of Tower calendar posters on display.

Dennis Newhall, founder and curator of the Sacramento Rock and Radio Museum, has assembled and showcased a myriad of rock and radio memorabilia dating back to 1957.

Newhall started listening to rock and roll when he was six years old and Hounddog was at the top of the charts.

Every inch of his West Sacramento bedroom was covered with posters, but when he took them all down to study radio at CSUS, he stored them carefully away in a watertight box (a fact that would be surprising to no one who knows Dennis and his fastidious ways), and set them aside for a reason then unclear.

Dennis is still covering the walls with rock memorabilia, but thanks to support from Tucker Media, he has a lot more space to pursue his passion.

What is now the museum began as more of a memorial to local rock and roll.

Newhall, who had spent his radio career at, among other places, legendary rock station KZAP and KROY, was working at Nakamoto Productions. The studios happened to be located in the building that had once housed Crabshaw Corners, and later The Oasis Ballroom, site of countless concerts throughout the ‘60s, ‘70s and early ‘80s.

On a whim, Newhall and his friend Jeff Hughson began picking up promotional memorabilia from the old venues and hanging it in the studios. The idea caught on.

“Ray [Nakamoto] said, ‘If you keep finding them, I’ll keep framing them’,” Newhall recalls.

It wasn’t long until Dennis had covered a new set of walls. A few years later, in 2003, the collection had grown substantially, and they began opening for Second Saturday.

“We were right in the epicenter, here on 20th Street,” says Newhall of the former location between the 20th Street Gallery and Lush salon, “And people seemed to appreciate looking at the artwork and remembering the concerts they’d been to.”

Primarily through word of mouth, and Second Saturdays, word of the museum’s offerings and Dennis’s dedication to preserving local rock culture have spread.

After Mayor Kevin Johnson took a turn down Memory Lane, he commissioned Newhall to put together a small private collection for him.

This Saturday, Newhall has been asked to present the Jazz/Funk award at the Sammies, also a nod to his ongoing work as a jazz announcer at KXJZ. The museum will also be open from 5-9pm to take advantage of crossover fans from the Sammies Block Party.

Due to some changes in management, and with support from Tucker Marketing Group, the museum recently moved to a new home—next door to the old one, at 911 20th Street.

Newhall calls it a vast improvement.

“Being in the old Oasis Ballroom was a terrific inspiration for getting the museum started,” he concedes, “But this is a much better viewing space.”

Bill Tucker loved the idea of giving space to the newly formed non-profit.

“It’s a great environment to work in,” he smiles, gesturing around what is surely one of the coolest “lobbies” in town. “And it really puts the clients at ease.”

Having recently achieved non-profit status as a 501(c)3, the Rock and Radio Museum can now actively fundraise, which is an exciting prospect. Not only does the artwork cost money—although some of it, including those well-preserved childhood posters, has been donated—but the days of thumb-tacking things to the wall are over.

“Framing alone is a considerable expense,” says Newhall.

Currently, the museum is open only for Second Saturdays, April through October, or for occasional special events, like this weekend’s block party. They are considering making the space available for select fundraising events, and viewing is available by appointment.

You can also see some of the collection or make a donation at sacrockmuseum.org

Step Up and Step Out - AIDS Run/Walk 2011

2011-09-09T06:57:26Z

Would it surprise you to know that AIDS rates are on the rise again?

As someone who lost only a few friends to AIDS, but was nearly frozen with fearful anticipation waiting for the results of that first test in the ‘80s, it certainly surprised me! It further amazed me that anyone who has seen the devastation the results of a compromised immune system can cause would continue to engage in risky and potentially fatal behavior.

But they do.

But the most disturbing information by far, was that one of the reasons that HIV continues to spread is that it’s considered by many in high-risk groups to be “no big deal.” The rationale—if it can be considered that—is that people do so well on the medication (think Magic Johnson) that it’s not really the death sentence it used to be.

If only it was so simple.

The truly rational mind would realize that contracting AIDS is a crapshoot. Once you are positive for HIV, the odds that you will die from any number of things go up. You are vulnerable. Medication works well for some people, and not for others. Medication is hugely expensive. HIV/AIDS is a preexisting condition, so if you are not Magic Johnson and need to get health insurance, this can be a problem.

Where HIV/AIDS is concerned, not only is ignorance not bliss, it is suicide.

Or murder.

That’s where AIDS Walk comes in. The Sac Valley AIDS Run/Walk is, ostensibly, a fundraiser, but, in reality, isn’t one of the big moneymakers for the cause. It’s most important function is to raise community awareness about the disease and the organizations that fight it and serve the sufferers and survivors.

Co-chair Julie Kennedy talked with me about how this year’s run/walk differs from past events.

Most notably, the walking course is only half as long. The former course was a 5K, or about 3 miles. This year the revised course will leave the Capitol and head toward the Tower Bridge and back, for a total of 1.5 miles.

“It will save us money on street closures and police escorts, which is a factor to consider in this economy,” admits Julie Kennedy, “But more importantly, it will also allow survivors to participate more comfortably, which has been a concern in previous years.”

The runners’ route will remain a 5K.

Julie Kennedy is also hoping the shorter route will bring a sense of community back to the event. She’s hoping to see the return of tribute signs, and the costumes and camaraderie of years past.--whatever it takes to get people reengaged.

Kennedy also works at CARES, a nonprofit HIV/AIDS clinic in Midtown.

“I recently had a 19-year old test positive, “ she tells me, “The HIV tester was talking with him and he was excited that it was his birthday the next day. He was telling her about his birthday plans.” She paused a moment.

“Then she went down the hall to get the results, and she has to tell him it’s positive. She wanted to cry.”

There are too many stories just as sad, she said.

So if there were one final thing she could say, it would be,

“If I could say just one thing,” she says, as we are about to part company. “It would be, Help! AIDS needs help. Please walk. If you can’t walk, donate.”

She pauses, thinking about the clients she will return to.

“Let’s bring this back into the light.”

You can register a team or as an individual on line in advance at www.sacvalleyaidsrunwalk.org or in person up until the beginning of the event, which will be held on Sunday, September 18.

AIDS Walk is a Capital City AIDS Fund event that benefits number of charitable organizations. This year, among them will be CARES, who will use the money to support their Positive Speakers Program; Breaking Barriers, who provide mobile testing and transportation for people with HIV; Sacramento Gay & Lesbian Center; Sunburst Project, a camp for children with a parent who has HIV; Golden Rule Services, serving gay men of color; Harm Reduction Services, providing needle exchange and HIV testing; Oak Park Outreach needle exchange; Sierra Foothills AIDS Foundation of Auburn; and Chico Stonewall Democratic Club.

MidLife Gridlife

2011-08-19T07:11:50Z

There are a lot of over 40 stories in this burgeoning halfway point between San Francisco and Lake Tahoe; that will be the basis for this weekly column. With help from overheard conversations and intentionally shared adventures, I’m going to tell them—or make them up.

“You should write about that,” is a refrain I hear from friends and family that has become as frustrating as it is flattering. While I consider myself a poet at heart, it’s my tales of online dating and quirky take on midlife mayhem that seems to spark everyone’s interest. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but write about it where?

Sacramento Press has been kind enough to provide the forum.

Midtown isn’t just for short skirts and wannabe musicians, college kids and cheap housing. There are restaurants and theaters and art galleries mixed in with those really great dive bars, there’s nothing wrong with affordable (adorable!) housing in this economy. It’s time the over forty crowd was shown a little love!

We’re hanging out at Temple Coffee with a laptop or the New York Times, dipping into Nebraska Monday at Luna’s, buying concert tickets, and getting trampled on the odd Second Saturday, even while reminiscing about the days when you used to be able to find the galleries. We’re raising little kids and being mistaken for their grandparents. We’re a good time.

The Fabulous Forties is not just a neighborhood where kids can get full-sized candy bars on Halloween and people elevate Christmas decorating to an art form. My forties are fabulous, and I’m expecting great things from my fifties and sixties as well.

Who knew it would be so interesting? It sounds midway point on the way to death, after all, as I suppose it’s meant to: middle aged. Or, at best, archaic, slovenly peasants a la Monty Python’s Holy Grail or Life of Brian (We’re not dead!) But it doesn’t feel that way. My motto has been “46 is the new 16,”—47, and so on, and so on--and it rocks!

It’s not like I haven’t endured a few bumps in the road.

I’ve had a couple what might be considered downright hellish years. That list of the most devastating emotional stressors a person can face? I managed to dodge the natural disaster and keep all of my limbs, but I ticked all the others off the list: lost my marriage, my job, my house, my father, and my longest-term friend had a recurrence of her brain tumor. I left a perfectly good job to take a supposedly better one, after a year of being recruited, and had the singularly most horrendous experience of my life—then I ended up unemployed!

It was when I found myself comforting the guy I was dating for the umpteenth time—assuring him that he’d get through the foreclosure and the move okay, despite the fact we didn’t even live together—that I realized unless I could appreciate the absurdity in all of it, I would just simply go nuts. Fortunately, he finally walked out in the middle of the move without so much as a good-bye speech; what do you do with a guy who periodically wants to move to a homeless camp or raise goats in the mountains and live in a yurt, anyway? Saved a lot of drama, his just disappearing like that.

So began my relationship with what some might call looking for the silver lining, but I think of as, My God Has A Sense of Humor—and there’s a punch line waiting around every corner; a little thing called Karma.

Unemployment was at nearly fourteen percent, so everyone was in on that joke. Lots of time to get my thoughts together. I actually wrote my first play.

Being unemployed was no picnic, but the relief of being out of the nightmare I’d been in was pretty sweet, and we have a dinner group of “survivors”—all managers who’ve quit or been fired from the agency--that get together periodically and swap stories like shell-shocked veterans; how great is that?

The brain tumor I’m having a tougher time spinning.

Obviously not every minute of it was fun, but, as my friends continued to point out, it was kind of funny. And sometimes it was fun! (We’re not dead!)

I don’t know about you, but I am not what my parents had in mind. Hardly anyone I know has a retirement plan, or for that matter a savings account of any substance. Very few of us have had successful marriages, and a lot of us are wondering if we’re going to end up in a commune with our best friends, drinking margaritas at the end (maybe I was a little short-sighted about the goats and the yurt). Our degrees aren’t worth what we thought they’d be, and our houses are being foreclosed on.

But we are a scrappy, savvy bunch. We persist.