400 Bar, rocked yet again

Once again this evening I had the pleasure of playing in Michael Morris' band during his weekly Tuesday night residency at Minneapolis' legendary 400 Bar. The band tonight was (l to r) Haakon Nelson (mandolin, bass), Andy Hertel (drums), Michael Morris (acoustic guitar, harmonica, vocals), and me (bass, chord organ, accordion, melodica). I told Michael this evening in the lovely catacombs beneath the stage that he'd better start photo-documenting his rise to fame so that in twenty years when they publish the "Michael Morris on Michael Morris" coffeetable book (not unlike "U2 on U2") there would actually be a few photos from his pre-stardom era. To say that is kind of a cute joke, but to be honest, I sort of believe it. After seeing countless bands/songwriters in my nearly two decades in showbiz, I've rarely seen anybody with the talent, dedication, and X-factor that Michael Morris has goin' on.

The gig tonight was particularly fun for me, 'cause I got to play bass on half the set! Michael's song "Brand New Palette" is my pick for the hit single and it totally rocks, and I had a wonderful time riffing around on bass guitar. In addition, I also got to begin the show playing chord organ, which is an instrument I use often on recordings, but have never played in concert before. It was a blast. All the instruments I played tonight have special meaning to me. Here's the run-down:

CHORD ORGAN: a '60s-era relic purchased in 1999 at Encore Music while I was on tour here in Minneapolis. It's accordion technology, but rather than manually squeezing the bellows, a small electric fan blows air through the reeds, allowing the player to use both hands on the keyboard. It's pretty much an electric harmonium, and a similar instrument can be heard on various recent tunes by Steve Earle ("Transcendental Blues" I think). I used this instrument on many of my own recordings, including songs like "Waiting for the Rain," "Park River Bridge," and "My Broken Heart is Miss [sic] You."

HOHNER ACCORDION: I assume that this instrument dates back to the '50s or earlier. My Grandfather Earl Roberts received it after the death of a friend, and the man's widow passed along the accordion. My Grandpa had it for years, and then gave it to me in 1989 as I embarked on a two year musical tour of Lutheran congregations. I've been playing that thing ever since, and hauling it around North America. It appeared even on my debut album, featured on "The 'Con' Prefix Song," and many recordings since then.

HOHNER MELODICA: Back in 1985 I heard the Philadelphia pop/rock band The Hooters for the first time, and they changed my life and my brain. The Hooters named themselves after this weird keyboard/harmonica hybrid, and they featured the instrument on many of their signature songs. I'll never forget those first few times hearing the melodica and mandolin introduction to the Hooters' hit "And We Danced"...it really set the stage for my instrumental development and my professional career. When I completed confirmation classes in Fall of 1985 a bunch of folks gave me money, and I took that cash down to The Melody Shoppe in Marquette, MI and special-ordered a Hohner melodica, just like the one The Hooters played. It cost me about $80, and for a high school freshman, this was HUGE money. But it was totally worth it, and I huffed and puffed through that plastic box for hours while my cousin Bruce strummed his nylon-string classical guitar with a pick. We butchered Hooters songs for months. Soon after I picked up the fabulous debut "London 0 Hull 4" by the Housemartins, and they, too, used the melodica! I couldn't get enough. I still play that same instrument that I bought with my confirmation money 22 years ago.

1970's-era FENDER P-BASS GUITAR: a recent acquisition for me...maybe in 2003 or so. I bought this lovely bass guitar from my bass-master friend Mike Bradburn, who plays in the stellar Chicago Americana/soul band Dolly Varden. I'm pleased to say that this instrument appears on at least one Dolly Varden album, and I've used it myself on the song "Smart Girls" from my own CD Public Library, as well as on many many more recent recordings. I think Mike secretly wishes he still had it, but hey, it's mine now. Mwah ha ha ha ha! But, hey Mike, it's here for you whenever you want to play it.

So there are the contents of this evening's musical toolbox. For those of you Michael Morris fans who are learning his songs (and the crowds are growing and growing) I'll transcribe tonight's setlist...and for those of you who have yet to hear the magic, you can read these titles knowing that someday, when Michael's debut album is done and available, these songs will rock your own iPod.

King County Hotel and Casino
We Saw The Stars
Have Faith
Highland Drive
The Labor
An Open Invitation
A Brand New Palette
To Hell and Back

See y'all next Tuesday at the 400 Bar. Continue to rock, please.

Babel to Bloomington

Last weekend after a particularly tough week of parenting I went to see a late showing of the movie Babel. Although I still can't decide if the movie was actually good or not, I can tell you that the images and the themes of the film have stayed with me since I got out of that theater.

Babel raises all sorts of interesting issues about parenting and family relationships. The plot line that I've been pondering in recent days involves Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett, a married couple who leave their two kids at home in the USA and embark on a vacation in North Africa, with the goal of reconnecting to one another. Their relationship is obviously strained (almost to the breaking point), and initially this vacation does not seem to be helping them rebuild their marriage. There's a powerful scene when the couple are eating at an outdoor cafe in the Moroccan desert wilderness, and the wife says "Why did you bring us here?" The husband replies "So we could be alone," as the viewer sees them surrounded by dozens of other American and European tourists.

As the plot unfolds, the entire theater feels the tension and stress of parents who are isolated from their children, literally across the globe and unable to be present for their kids at a time of need. Rarely as a moviegoer have I carried the burdens of fictional film characters as much as I did in Babel.

I think the good intentions of Brad Pitt's character mirror those of many people who wish to bring some healing to their own marriages. I can imagine his thought process: "We'll go as far away as we can from our jobs and children and responsibilities, take a few weeks to be together, have LOTS of time to talk and connect, immerse ourselves in beautiful and foreign scenery, and this extreme change of location and schedule will allow us to be ALONE together in a powerful way." Yes, it makes sense on paper. What this plan forgets, however, is to account for the added levels of stress and inconvenience that this type of vacation brings about, which ultimately will create even more distance and animosity between the couple.

Imagine the issues that surface when a couple goes on an epic vacation without their kids: childcare, money, communication limitations (what if there's no telephone? what if the kids need to reach you, or vice versa?), loneliness, massive geographic separation, and especially that heartbreaking feeling whenever a parent is away from their kids for an extended period of time. Watching Babel might make you change your travel plans if you're currently setting up a two-week-long Caribbean cruise while leaving the kids at home.

Since my daughter was born three months ago, my wife and I have not had any free time together (other than one dinner date over Christmas break). Our daughter spent most of last week waking up every two hours all night long, resulting in two parents with severe sleep-deprivation. In fact, my wife Dawn had not slept through the night uninterrupted since the second trimester of her pregnancy...when was that...sometime in July? Yikes! On top of all that, my own tolerance of stay-home-parenting has been significantly diminished in recent weeks, so as a couple, we've been pretty desperate for a little relational re-fueling.

Thankfully, my Mom arrived last Thursday to help watch our two kiddos, allowing Dawn and I to enact a Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt scheme. However, rather than jetting to North Africa and getting shot at by goat herders, we instead reserved a room at the lovely Staybridge Suites in Bloomington, MN, five minutes from our house. That's right, we went on vacation in our own neighborhood. And let me say, it was A W E S O M E. Nothing huge, nothing expensive, nothing elaborate...just a nice hotel room, dinner at a restaurant (Big Bowl...how Edina of us!), personal time, hot tub, cable TV (E! Entertainment television, anyone?), free breakfast (with eggs, chocolate muffins, fresh fruit, yummy), time to actually TALK like real adult people, and yes, EIGHT HOURS OF UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP.

We got to the hotel at 7PM, giggling like seventh graders. We felt like we were doing something illegal! It was really wonderful. By 9PM, we had only been on our own for a couple hours, and we were talking about how great we felt already...it only took 120 minutes to feel significantly refueled...and we still had half a day to go! By the time we got home at Noon on Saturday we were like different people. In fact, we both agreed that the physical feeling was not unlike the way we felt after going to a yoga class...refreshed, tall, good posture, calm, and profoundly relaxed. All these benefits, and none of the stress or guilt from the Babel movie...'cause we knew our kids were five minutes away if they needed us.

I guess it wouldn't have been much of a movie if Cate and Brad left their children and got a $80 hotel room down the street from their house, but for the rest of us in the real non-fiction world, let me recommend the LOCAL vacation if you'd like to reconnect to your spouse. Thank me later.

"You Don't Speak For Me" Music Video!

After eight months of tolerating a super lo-fi, grainy, and bad-looking version of this video on my neglected YouTube site (by the way, please link over and give this video a rating, comments, etc.), I have finally uploaded the GOOD quality version!

Everybody sing now!

yeah, when you speak for me, you don't speak for me
yeah, when you speak for me, you don't speak for me

my faith is not erotic
my faith is not narcotic
not at all psychotic
nor is it robotic
I've been given a brain and so I'm gonna use it
I've been given my freedom I don't wanna abuse it
I've been given a gift and I won't refuse it

Okay, I guess it's not exactly a campfire sing-along. So imagine my surprise last year when Augsburg Fortress Publishers asked if they could shoot a pro-quality music video of this song for use in their educational curriculum! Of course, I was thrilled, but man, of all the songs I've written, why would anybody pick THIS one? Well, they want to use it as a "discussion starter" and I guess it could certainly work that way. It's amazing to me when I consider that probably dozens (and maybe hundreds?) of churches have played this video to their confirmation students, in order to grease the wheel as they talked about religion in society, media interpretation, integrating faith into life, etc.

The video was directed by Jeremy Plumb, a local filmmaker here in Minneapolis. I was most familiar with his work as a musician...he has played bass for folks like Rachel Kurtz and Tina & The B-Sides. I proposed this "Three Jonathans" concept to Jeremy, and he liked the idea, and worked his Hollywood magic to achieve the visual of me and two of my clones rocking the house. When Dawn saw the video, she said "Jonathan is playing with his ideal band!" Ha. Jeremy also went out on the street and shot a bunch of random folks lip-synching my lyrics as they struggled with their own media issues. Notice my pals John Kerns and Justin Rimbo in cameo roles. It took the better part of one afternoon for me to shoot all the musical scenes...and I had three wardrobe changes to navigate. I felt like Cher.

This song started as only a song title back in the late-90s, in the earliest planning stages of my Sound Theology album. Here's how the audio came about: I had recorded the excellent Chicago drummer Andy Deitrich playing on a series of songs for the new album (including "Workin' My Committee," "Local Road," "If I Ever Get There," and "Wide Awake") and when we were getting volume levels for the drums, Andy played a little test groove using his ride cymbal. Months later I was digging through minidiscs, and found the scratch recording of Andy's drumming soundcheck, and I really liked the groove, and especially those rolling floor-tom fills. So I made a loop of Andy's unintentional drum part, and decided it would be a great foundation for a song.

I wrote the weird chord-shifts for what would become "You Don't Speak For Me" on guitar (I think) and figured out how I wanted the vocals to sound. Soon I was over at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Oak Park, IL, using the piano in the sanctuary to record a couple piano songs for Sound Theology ("A Better Place," "Row Out The Boat") I decided to take a stab at "You Don't Speak..." as a piano tune, and darn it, it worked really slick. So I played the part over Andy's drumming, brought the tracks back home, added bass and vocals, and then did a weird mixdown, and BOOM, there you have it.

The "erotic" line is inspired by Contemporary Christian Music songs where there's a creepily-sexy tone running through lyrics about Jesus. You may have heard these pieces of music referred to as "Jesus-is-my-boyfriend" songs. Yukky!

The "narcotic" line comes from Contemporary Christian imagery that links faith to substance abuse: "Addicted to Jesus," "Jesus Freak," "Spiritual drunkenness," etc. Yukky again!

The "psychotic" line is inspired by anti-Christian arguments suggesting that any kind of faith or religious belief is rooted in mental illness.

And the "robotic" line is protesting the trap of traditionalism in the church. A good way to illustrate the difference between "traditionalism" (yukky) and "tradition" (wonderful), is to say that "Tradition is the living faith of the dead, but Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living." I'd give proper credit for whoever came up with that quote, but I don't know who it was. Anybody know? Lutherans like to quote that line (and we should!).

And the "I've been given..." refrain is pretty self-explanatory.

I could give you many examples over the years of what motivated me to write this little song, but here's a connection to current events: I'd like to dedicate this showing of "You Don't Speak For Me" to the wacky fundamentalist Christian video-game company Left Behind Games who recently released the "Left Behind:Eternal Forces" video game. I'd like to say to all you Left Behind folks out there in Christian Media: "when you speak for me, you don't speak for me." Here's an article that'll tell you a bit about this bizarre video game.

A photo-illustrated week-in-review

Dear readers, I thought I'd take you on a week in review of my domestic life. This past seven-day-stretch has been a comparatively tough one, due to sleep deprivation and the stay-home-Daddy blues (which has afflicted me as of late), but there were moments of wonderfulness as well.

MONDAY of last week was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so Dawn didn't have to work! I was thrilled to have her company and support. Paavo and I began the day by shoveling the driveway...me with my action-scoop, and Paavo with a broken dustpan. Then the whole family got in the car and went out for a nice lunch at a developing chain-restaurant called Potbelly Sandwich Company or Cafe or Factory or Fantasy or Regime or something like that. Perhaps the greatest meatball sub I've ever consumed.

TUESDAY was a tough one. Thanks to fussy kids and goofed up schedules I engaged in intense parenting work for sixteen hours non-stop. Yup, 7AM 'til 11PM. Needless to say I was physically and psychologically spent. Also, for those of you familiar with the more obscure reaches of my musical catalog, it was the 15-year-anniversary of the composing and recording of the song "Picture Day," created with my cousin Bruce Rundman in his former house in Crystal Falls, MI (watch for the first publicly available version of that song, coming very soon!). If that wasn't enough, it was Paavo's first entire day in big-boy-underpants. By noon we had peed through two pairs of undies, but he didn't appreciate that sensation and from that moment on he kept those briefs dry and pristine for the remainder of the day! Nice work, kiddo. The potty-training has continued throughout the rest of this past week, and darn it if he isn't about 90% there. That's my boy!

WEDNESDAY finally allowed me some personal time! I went to the second of six book-study meetings I've been attending at Mt. Olivet Lutheran Church in South Minneapolis. I'd been hoping for more socializing with my classmates, but so far it's been a lot of listening to the teacher. She's decent, though, and so far I've learned the "four factors needed to pass along a meaningful faith experience to the next generation": CREED, COMMUNITY, HOPE, and....oh crap, I forget the fourth one. Paavo hung in the church nursery, happy as a clam. After the church thing I got to drop Paavo off at his pre-school for two hours. Sleeping Svea and I went out for lunch together and indulged in some much needed INFP personal time. Later I spent some time surfing the web and reading the ever-growing list of blogs that this very webpage has inspired (thank you very much!). Please visit the wonderful Internet epistles courtesy of my wife Dawn, my father-in-law Dean, and my friend Diane, brought to you by the letter "D."

THURSDAY was another loooong day of parenting.....this time 7AM to 8PM due to Dawn's participation in some new-fangled internet conference called a "webinar." I took my descendants to the Minnesota Children's Museum for the entire afternoon where Paavo dressed like a fireman, shot a music video with some other random kid (their songs were "Hey Now You're a Rockstar" by Smashmouth, and the public-domain classic "She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain"), and learned about water pressure. Maybe the water exhibit helped him with multiple successful trips to the potty while out in public! After the museum we swung over to the Luther Seminary Bookstore to pick up some gifts, but alas, the bookstore was closed when we got there. Rats! At least we were able to once again take Paavo to the potty. (Strange side-note: while at the seminary we were followed into the bathroom by an obviously mentally-disabled guy who started talking at me about hairstyles: lecturing about hockey players who have long hair, the Beatles' moptops, how much he hates long hair on men, etc. As I tried to wash Paavo's hands in the sink, this guy leaned over my own head and went into a huge rant about MY hair and how men should keep their hair short, etc. By the end of the whole ordeal I was really annoyed and ticked off, with my personal space very infringed-upon. I don't know what the deal was with the guy....I'm just hoping he wasn't a seminary student on track to getting his M-Div. Ha ha.) Paavo, Svea, and I made it safely back to the car and zipped downtown for a good dinner at Panera and an hour of book reading and potty-using at the Minneapolis Central Library before we picked up Dawn from work. Again, parenting had fried my brain.

FRIDAY was awesome 'cause we began the day with an awesome bagel breakfast visit with my friend and Lutheran celebrity David Scherer who you might know as the rapper Agape. As part of my mission to improve my social life I've been talking to Dave about setting aside time each month for us to hang out. It was great to see him. There are few people on earth who understand this weird balance of showbiz, art, and church that I live each day, but Dave is one of 'em. Then after breakfast Paavo and I (and sleeping Svea of course) went to parent/child day at our Early Childhood Family Education class. Paavo got to wear safety goggles and play with his classmates at the toy toolbench. We got to pick up Dawn early from work and enjoy a nice afternoon together. Later that night I met my friend Joel for a 10PM showing of the movie Babel, which is up for a bunch of awards these days. It was a depressing and exhausting movie...maybe not the best choice for my current metal state. But in retrospect, maybe the movie was good. The film was so pulverizing I can't quite decide if it was good or not.

SATURDAY was a long-awaited day of productivity as I continued to unpack our family junk in our basement, and began to finalize my new studio set-up. The coolest part of the day was the discovery of 20-years-worth of rock and roll posters, some of which were on my wall in my bedroom when I was in high school.
Here are some fun pictures of my studio, and the shrines I've constructed to some of my favorite musicians, including The Silos, Paul Westerberg, Lisa Germano, The Hooters, The Pursuit of Happiness, Glen Burtnik, Sam Phillips, Annie Lennox, and Peter Case. For the first time in the six months we've lived here, I've got enough space to walk around in the studio. Maybe that means I'll start writing and recording new music for the first time in a year or two.


SUNDAY is today, and it was sleepy but pleasant. Got up really early and went over to church to play mandolin in the bluegrass band. Musical highlights included a lovely interpretation of Gillian Welch's song "By The Mark," plus a chance to play my own song "By Grace" (which I co-wrote with the brilliant Nate Houge) with full bluegrass instrumentation. Pretty sweet! Came home for a nice lunch of Finnish pancakes and went back to church for an afternoon meeting with our small-group...a get together of other parents of pre-schoolers. A very supportive and loving community of folks! Went out by myself for dinner tonight, and an elaborate trip to Target where I had to purchase such items as a small flashlight, some women's deodorant, a kid-sized snow shovel, a 12-pocket file folder, and a gallon of milk. They had it all. And I listened to "Super Extra Gravity" the excellent 2006-era CD by Swedish genius-pop band The Cardigans.

The week ahead will be great due to the forthcoming visit of my Mom. She should arrive on Thursday. I hope you enjoyed this detailed spew of my weekly minutia. If you want brief, well-written, and meaningful, you can read Dawn's blog.

Rundman declares "Onion funny again!"

Here's a pic of me last week during my trip to the Golden Arches, enjoying the free weekly news/satire paper The Onion.

I've been an avid Onion reader for more than a decade now (by the way...I never read it online...I only like it in paper form, for some reason). Back in the early-90s when I was touring the Midwest I would always pick up The Onion in Madison, WI, read it out-loud in the car to Dawn, and laugh until tears streamed down my cheeks. Upon moving to Chicago in 1996, I was thrilled with the news that The Onion would soon be distributed for free in the Windy City, allowing me my Thursday ritual of zipping over to Val's Halla Record Store in Oak Park, IL, picking up the Chicago Reader, NewCity, and The Onion every single week. Then, just like clockwork, when I moved to the Twin Cities of Minnesota, The Onion followed me here too, and became available in paper form each Thursday. Hallelujah!

In the late-90s and especially around the events of 9/11 the writing was near perfect. I still remember the first time I read this article back in 2001 when I saw the toy-buying tip about upscale toy stores in the mall, and I laughed so hard i was reduced to a writhing, silent ball on the floor, sobbing. (Forgive the R-rated content, please.) If the funny stuff wasn't enough, the entertainment half of the paper, The A.V. Club, contained the BEST interviews of entertainers and artists that I have ever read, not to mention some of the best film reviews, etc. The inspiring feature interview with rock star Andrew WK still lingers in my mind as pure genius, and shaped my own views of music, artistry, fandom, and fame. It may have changed my life.

Alas, The Onion could not continue their momentum. Something happened to the writing about a year ago or so (lame commentator that I am, I have no dates, no proof, and no examples of this occurrence) and the funny stuff took a nosedive. Thankfully the AV Club was awesome as always, but the front half of the paper seemed different. The satirical stuff was boring, overdone, too crass, cheap, too easy, obvious, lame, and just plain not-as-good-as-before. I can't even really explain it, except to say that it changed enough that when I picked up my weekly issue, I read the AV Club first, and sometimes skipped the front half all together. And where did our trusted Onion fake-columnists like Anchower and Teasdale go? And what's with the entire PAGE devoted each week to lame sports jokes? I think, even if I cared about sports, it's not worthy of a page per week. I wonder what the deal was? Did the main writers all take sit-com jobs? Was the paper being written by brand new hacks?

The weird thing (and obviously intentional thing) about The Onion, is that they're completely untouchable, unlike the way a real paper would be. There's no "Letters to the Editor" page, you don't know which writer wrote which article, and in fact, it's almost impossible to find out who the writers/editors/brains of this thing really are. They keep the actual creative and publishing process completely hidden, and because of that, I have yet to find any online criticism of the writing, the writers, the content, or the intent. If anybody knows of any "Onion-fan" blog or message board, I'd be interested to know where it is. Are there other bloggers out there dissecting the comedy of The Onion? Hmmm...

Thankfully, I'm here to announce, the writing quality is back up. I think right before Christmas, I noticed that it was getting good again. And last week's issue (pictured above) had an entire front page of funny stuff. Just picked up this week's issue today, and once again, an entire front page of funny. Crass, but not too crass; topical but not obvious; funny-'cause-it's-true; etc. Congrats, Onion, and welcome back.

Joy and heartache at the Värttinä concert

Here's a shot of me and Paavo, one year ago exactly, on the shores of the Baltic Sea during our family trip to Finland and Sweden. As many of you know, I'm Finnish and my wife Dawn is Swedish, and as we get older we both feel increasingly deep and powerful connections to our ancestral homelands. In the past month I've had an ache in my heart/soul for those places so far from Midwest USA. My mind keeps reflecting on where we were a year ago at this time, and the indescribable feeling of "rightness" that we both had while visiting our relatives and walking around those towns, breathing that air.

Tonight I got to revel in my Finnish-ness in a thrilling and unusual way. The critically acclaimed Finnish folk band Värttinä (their new record is out on Peter Gabriel's Realworld label) had a show in Minneapolis this evening, and since my cousin Carl-Kristian Rundman is friends with the band's guitarist Antto Varilo (check out this picture of me and Annto taken a few hours ago), I got on the guest list for the show. I'd seen the band and met Antto when they played here back in 2003, so I knew the concert was going to be amazing. Of course, the music tonight was awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping and spine-tingling (even though the crowd reaction was considerably more reserved than it was 3 years ago). For me, though, intermingled with the rush of hearing such passionate and exquisite musicianship, I struggled with this recurring feeling of heartbreak and loss.

I feel like it sounds stupid when I write it, and when I talk about it, but that's the best way to describe it. I feel homesick for a country where I've never lived. It's been 100 years since my great-grandparents boarded the boat in Vasa and sailed across the Atlantic to start a new life in the United States of America, but down in my bones I feel like for some reason I belong back over there instead.

A month or so ago my Pastor, Carol Mork, preached a sermon based on the Old Testament lesson of the day from the book of Jeremiah, and in the text Jeremiah was addressing the Israelites who were in exile in Babylon. As she put the lesson in context, Pastor Carol said something that has stayed with me every day since: "There is nothing like the sorrow of a people in exile, unable to return to their home." Initially when I heard it, I thought "No way...there are kinds of sorrow much worse than that...the loss of a family member, the collapse of a relationship, etc." But as I've stewed about it, I think that Pastor Carol might be right. It's a different kind of loss than an inter-personal one. It's a wider more communal kind of loss. I think about it when I hear about all those people driven out of Darfur, or when I consider all the Iraqis who've been forced to leave for a neighboring country. Of course, these examples are much more "life and death" situations than my own strange exile from Finland, but 100 years ago my Great-grandfather was in a "life and death" situation, and it drove him to leave his homeland and move to America...he left to escape forced service and/or imprisonment and/or death by the occupying Russian army. So maybe I've got some residual "exile" feelings throughout my genetic code or something.

As I drove home I thought about all the Finnish-Americans packing that room at the sold-out Värttinä concert. When I walked in the room, I felt like hugging everybody, even though I didn't know any of them (although I recognized the cashier from the FinnStyle store who was sitting in my aisle)...it was like being at some weird yet wonderful family reunion. And it seemed like we all knew it. And all of our immigrant ancestors have deep and hidden stories of loss and heartbreak and longing for our Finnish past. Our fore-fathers/mothers sailed across that ocean leaving their parents, children, spouses, friends behind, some who they never saw again. And we all tap into those needs and feelings by showing up at concerts like this, wearing our Suomi hats and t-shirts, and immersing ourselves in this mysterious and delightful music. And for a few hours it's like the Spirits of our Grandparents dance along with us and we're all finally "at home" together.

So tonight I'm thankful for a great night of powerful music and for a chance to visit with Antto who will bring my greetings in person back to my Finnish cousins in Helsinki. And I've got a son named "Paavo" and a daughter named "Svea" and the hope that they too will appreciate this strange connection we have to the shores of the Baltic Sea, up over the top of the globe from where we are in Minneapolis USA.

Friday's show at Dunn Bros in Linden Hills

After my family moved to our new home this past year I really wanted to book more neighborhood gigs, in family friendly environments. It's worked out really well for me to play a nearby coffeehouse, the Dunn Bros in the lovely Linden Hills neighborhood in SW Minneapolis. The shows I've played here have been Friday nights at 7PM, with lots of pre-schoolers and their parents, no cover charge, and a great musical vibe. It feels the way live music SHOULD be: children dancing, everyone paying attention and enjoying themselves, no pressure, no hipster attitude. Just friendly folks and the joy of music and community.

My usual rhythm section had other committments that evening so I jumped on the chance to play a show with local drummer Jimmy Olson. Jimmy and I had lived in Chicago at the same time and had both played gigs with the brilliant band Dolly Varden, but we'd never done a show with one another until Friday. We didn't bother to rehearse the songs, and we didn't need to, 'cause Jimmy is such a great percussionist...it was one of those cool and loose communications between musicians that results in a fun and exciting live performance.

Here's a rough approximation of our set list:

Falling Down
List of things to do
Park River Bridge
747s
Tape
Late in the Evening (Paul Simon cover)
Cuban Missile Crisis
Hey Hey Samuel (featuring guest musician Joel Setterholm on melodica)
The Serious Kind (featuring guest musician Joel Setterholm on melodica)
Caught Up In Your Snare (an old song that will be resurrected on my upcoming "20th Century" CD)
The Bass Guitar Song (a song from 1995 that I had never performed before...this too will be on the "20th Century" album)
Nobody Knows (Rainmakers cover)
I Shook His Hand (Peter Case cover)

At this point my friend Michael Morris (who was in the audience) jumped up on stage and we played a few of Michael's songs that we've been doing on Tuesdays at the 400 Bar. Michael played my guitar and I jumped over to mandolin, Jimmy rocked the house on drums.

After Michael's excellent set I did a few more tunes:

The Princess Wants to Spend Her Time With Me
Heart of Gold (Neil Young cover)
Librarian

and then at the end we invited Joel (on melodica) and Michael (on mandolin) to come back on stage for our grand finale, a cover of the U2 song "I still haven't found what I'm looking for" played in a Buck Owens Bakersfield arrangement. Pretty cool.

Thanks to everybody (especially the pre-schoolers) for coming out to the show. I look forward to playing at Dunn Bros again soon!

My haircut, "Ronald McDonald is not my God"

Fashion alert! I got a haircut last night! Yes, friends, it had been six months since my last haircut, and I admit the locks were getting a little ridiculous. Here you can check out the before and after photos and determine which Jonathan you like best. It's been seven years since I sported the shoulder-length Cobain haircut, but I still have not readjusted back to the normal habits of regular hair-care and maintenance. One of the main reasons for this current trim was weather related. As winter sets in, my hair gets more and more dry and static-charged, and all that combined with the constantly wispy, body-less and straight nature of it...well, it's a sad state of aff-HAIRS (my Aunt Marlys calls this genetic phenomenon "stupid Finnish hair").

In other news, I thought I'd share a bit more about my daily life as a stay-home-Dad. What frequently happens in our kitchen is that my family will "eat ourselves out of our own house," meaning that over time the fridge and cupboards are more and more empty, and it eventually gets to the point that you MUST go to the grocery store lest you end up feeding your children water, ketchup, and peanut butter in a bowl. Today that happened to us, but by the time Noon rolled around I was too hungry to go to the supermarket and shop, haul all the food home, and THEN make lunch. So instead I took Paavo (and sleeping Svea) to McDonalds for lunch.

This is the part of the story where I feel a bit like someone confessing a sin. I feel like one of the worst things anybody can say these days is "I voluntarily ate at McDonalds." It's the most un-PC thing in the world...especially when children are involved. As someone who enjoys eating at McDonalds, I know that feeling of embarrassment that comes with admitting you've been there. I remember one time in Chicago I went to the post office to mail some CD packages, and I carried a McDonalds drink cup with me into the post office. As I paid for my stamps, the post office cashier looked at my drink cup and said with a snide smile and scolding voice, "Well, you went to McDonald's for lunch today, eh?" As if to say, "All your sneaking around...you should be ashamed of yourself!" I was shocked! What do you say to that! So I said something like "Yes, it was delicious. It's my favorite place for lunch."

Here's the truth: as a stay-home-Dad, it's a fantastic place. Cheap (and tasty!) food, and a huge awesome playroom with tunnels and slides where my toddler can run free and wild for an hour in the middle of a cold crappy winter day, and a booth where I can drink free refills of iced tea and read free copies of the Star Tribune. Pretty ideal for everyone. Plus the kid gets a free toy! Man, this corporation knows what it's doing. Yes yes, I know I've fallen for their marketing tricks. I am aware. Please don't scold me.

Okay, I know. I know my cheeseburger was made from more than one cow (maybe more than one species), and bugs, and animal waste and index fingers of illegal immigrants. Yes, I saw the "Supersize Me" movie (kept me away from the arches for a couple months, I think), and I read the book "Fast Food Nation" (but haven't seen the movie). I know all the arguments.

You know who really hates McDonalds? Musicians and hipsters. Hang out at a club or rehearsal with indie rockers, or in a studio, or in NYC with music scenesters, and they will do anything to avoid McDonalds. They ALWAYS search for authentic Indian food, Thai food, Middle-Eastern food, vegan food, etc. And they TALK about it constantly...how much they love it, where they were when they ate it last. But sometimes I just want french fries, okay? Don't hate me.

Actually, my favorite fast-food place is Culvers (by far!), but McDs can be good, too. I have a theory (here's another incredibly un-PC thing to say). Your experience at McDonalds is directly proportionate to the income level of the neighborhood in which the restaurant is located. I've eaten at McDonalds in New York City, Los Angeles, Helsinki (Finland), Tallin (Estonia), Warsaw (Poland), Berlin (Germany) and the West Side of Chicago. I bet McDonalds in Beverly Hills is really good, fresh, clean, etc.

When I was a kid we never went to McDonalds (Ishpeming, MI didn't have a McD back then). We were a Burger King family. I went to Burger King at the Detroit airport while I was on tour a few years ago, and it was SO GROSS I pledged to never go there again. But this Summer I was out cruising to Menards with my Dad and he wanted to go to Burger King, so I went along, Yet again, it was repulsive. Never again.

In 1989 I spent a year living in a van with my friend Joel, traveling around the Midwest playing music. Joel had a previous career climbing the corporate ladder (and doing quite well) at McDonalds, so I learned to like the restaurant during that year. Joel taught me the company's "Seven Steps of Customer Service" (I think the last step is the Suggestive Sell: "would you like a hot apple pie to go with your order?"). After deciding to leave the company to volunteer for a year with our music group, Joel had composed a disturbing little song about his former employer, and the lyrics went like this:
"Ronald McDonald is not my God/French Fries did not die on the cross."

It's funny. I take Paavo to McDonalds once every week or two so we can have lunch and he can run around in the Play Land tubes like a gerbil in a habitrail. And while we're there it's this John-Lennon-"Imagine" society where little blond Paavo has fun running and playing and eating with a roomful of other kids...black kids, Hispanic kids, Muslim girls in full head-coverings whipping down the purple slide. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I'll never forget an interview I saw on the Charlie Rose TV show years ago when he was interviewing New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, and Friedman said that no two countries who both had McDonalds restaurants had ever waged war on each other.

Today was a good McDonalds experience. My food was fresh and hot and good, Paavo got a toy he liked (some sort of weird Japanese anime character who shoots trading cards out of a spaceship...whatever), and the floors and tables were clean. The iced tea blend was particularly well-balanced.

Then we came home, woke up Svea, fed her some milk, and played Candyland. We played for the first time yesterday, and Paavo totally got it. Candyland is a bit more intense than I remember it from my own youth. Nowadays the gameboard is covered with characters...a princess, a king, an old lady, and an evil bad guy called "Lord Licorice." Paavo is terrified of Lord Licorice. If you land on a licorice square you lose a turn. Paavo asked me all afternoon long, "Why is Lord Licorice so mean? Why did he put that licorice in the way? Why does he want us to get stuck? Why does he not want us to go to the Candy Castle? What will he do?"

Lord Licorice, this is Ronald McDonald. Ronald, this is the Lord.

another 400 Bar show, potty-training, etc.

Here's me in the basement of the 400 Bar a couple hours ago. The Tuesday night shows with Michael Morris and band continue, and it was another musically fulfilling evening. Tonight I played 6-string banjo, accordion, and melodica. I still get a bit starstruck whenever I have a gig at the 400...I've done this a zillion times, but there's always a little rush just knowing that the Replacements, etc., have played this very same room. And to be in the basement...man, if those walls could talk.

Today (actually, yesterday) was a family landmark because I spent the entire daytime at home working on intentional potty-training with my 3-year-old son Paavo. By Noon we'd been through a couple pairs of "big boy underpants" but he kept the 3rd pair totally dry and clean all afternoon, with seemingly dozens of successful trips to the potty. My glamourous rock and roll lifestyle, eh.

By the time I had to zip over the to the 400 Bar for soundcheck, I was pretty ready for some private time. Funny thing lately, though...I profoundly enjoy my private time out-and-about for only about the first two hours. After that, a subtle feeling of dis-ease sets in, and I really start to miss Dawn, Paavo, and Svea. It's like I just want to see them, check in with them, be sure they're okay. Does that happen to all parents? I remember my previous life, on tour 150 days per year around the country, and always loving it and thriving on it. These days, I really miss my sweetie and those two kiddos.

After soundcheck I went out for dinner (alone...that was nice) at my favorite restaraunt Culvers, where I read the newspaper and the new issue of Entertainment Weekly with the American Idol judges on the cover (Should I watch AI this season? I watched seasons 2 and 4, but skipped the others.). Then I went to Barnes & Noble and sat there reading a couple songwriting books. Nothing too exciting. Came back to the club and sat in the basement for 90 minutes, visiting with Michael and band and reading the graffiti. I was reminded of Pat Tomek of the Rainmakers and his comments about being on tour...all you do for hours each day is WAIT. Wait to load in, wait to soundcheck, wait to play. But once you hit the stage, then it's worth it (mostly). But hey, tonight was a blast, and I'm getting more and more familiar with Michael's songs. He's quite inspiring...every week he whips out a brand new song he had composed only days before. He's got TONS of excellent new tunes at all times. Makes me want to get back to songwriting again, after taking a break from it for these past few years.

Got some interesting blog comments and personal emails regarding my thoughts on the Paste Magazine article from my previous blog post. In fact, the journalist Jason Killingsworth himself wrote me a very nice email about his struggles with that interview. I tell you, just when I'm about to give up on this blog "Nobody reads this thing, no community is being created, blah blah blah" something happens that makes me think I should keep writing.

I've also really enjoyed reading other folks' blogs lately, too. Check out my Father-in-Law Dean Peterson (listed in the right-hand column) and Nate Houge (also in that column)...I spent my lunch time today listening to Nate's self-bootlegged Advent CD. Good stuff man!

Also today, I accomplished the move of my old Salt Lady Records website over to MySpace. The traffic at the webpage site was really low, so rather than paying big bucks each month to have it hosted, I just had the www.saltlady.com domain redirected to www.myspace.com/saltladyrecords where I can host it for free, post songs, photos, plus do all that crazy be-my-friend crap that the young folks seem to enjoy. All the "cool" record labels are on MySpace, so darn it, so will Salt Lady Records. Eventually I'll post some cool tunes, photos, links to our artists, etc. My main site www.jonathanrundman.com will continue as my main internet info hub.

As part of my current search for a meaningful social life, I'll be attending a parenting group tomorrow morning sponsored by nearby denominational behemoth Mt. Olivet Lutheran Church. I'll let y'all know how it goes. Gotta get up in 5 hours, and I have yet to take a shower. This is my rock and roll life.

Killingsworth, Guest, Klosterman, Rundman

I'd let slide my subscription to Paste Magazine, an ever-booming music/culture periodical that I'd read since they began a few years ago. The whole Paste empire (magazine, on-line retail, record label, etc) has been very supportive of my music career, and the magazine has given glowing reviews to my CDs...click here for their kind preview of my Public Library album. When they first started publishing back in the early '00s the magazine really reflected the views of the founders of the Paste-empire...excellent and fresh writing with a subtle slant toward suspiciously-Christian musicians and artists who were being taken seriously in the mainstream hipster culture. I think their first issue cover was of Victoria Williams and Marc Olsen (of the Jayhawks). Much to the delight of the original two Paste Magazine founders, the magazine kept succeeding and succeeding, and eventually I think it got purchased by a big company of some kind, the magazine staff got switched around a bit, and they became very well-known and widely-read. In that process, in my opinion, the content lost a lot of its original core values and niche appeal, and the issues got cluttered up with articles about such non-musical stuff as food reviews, video game reviews, and LOTS of coverage about movies. My subscription ran out sometime last year, and I just didn't have the energy or desire to renew.

BUT, in December I knew I would be spending many hours snuggling on the couch in my in-laws' living room over the holidays, so I wanted a good magazine to read, and I went to Borders and bought the December issue of Paste, pictured here. The cover story promised an interview with filmmaker and musician Christopher Guest, and that sounded like a very interesting read. Eventually I did end up beneath a quilt on my in-laws' couch and I did break out the Paste magazine to check out the feature story on Guest.

I spent four years as a rock journalist myself (R.I.P. Showcase Music Magazine in Chicago), and I've read more entertainment journalism that most folks ever will in a lifetime, but I don't think I've ever come across a feature story written quite like Jason Killingsworth's interview with Christopher Guest in December's Paste Magazine. You can read it for yourself by clicking here, so you know what I mean in these comments. It was so weird and jarring that I had a hard time getting through the whole article (my wife Dawn gave up on it after a few columns), but kept reading and reading, wondering where exactly Killingsworth was gonna go with this piece. When it ended, I couldn't decide if I thought the whole thing was lame or brilliant. Whatever it was, it was an bizarre way to present a cover story for a national magazine. The writer had guts, at least. I think the truth of it is one of the following two options:

LAME: Obviously, Christopher Guest gives horrible interviews. Apparently Killingsworth had heard rumors about this fact before the interview began, so he knew he was in for a challenge, and when the time came to talk to the man face to face, he dropped the ball. Then, out of anger or embarrasment or both, he retaliated against Guest by writing a overly ridiculous and sarcastic story about the brief and boring exchange he had with his subject. I've interviewed a few celebrities back when I was writing for the paper in Chicago, and I think if I ever got such lame replies from my interviewee, I would've pressed harder as the journalist. I found myself wanting to put these words in Killingsworth's mouth:
+ "Do you think that doing press interviews for your new film is a waste of your precious time? Do you have so little respect for me as a writer that you would treat me with such disregard?"
+ "Don't you owe it to your film studio, your cast and crew, and everybody who poured months of their lives into this movie, to take their hard work on this film seriously? Shouldn't you be grateful that my magazine wants to put you on the cover?"
+ "Wouldn't it have been wiser for you to tell your studio that you refuse to do any press for this film 'cause you hate giving interviews? They're paying for your transportation and hotel for this press junket, right? Wouldn't it have been the right thing to do to cancel the whole thing, out of respect for your employers?"
But nope, Killingsworth never said any of that stuff. Now THAT would've been a good interview! Maybe he was too starstruck by a man whom he really idolized.
In addition to wanting answers to these questions, I would've written the piece in a whole different way. Imagine how interesting it would've have been for Killingsworth to take Guest's terrible interview participation, and comment on the psychology behind Guest as a filmmaker and comedian! But instead, he appears to have been so insulted and frustrated by Guest that he decided to write the article drenched in rambling, boring, and outrageous sarcasm...so much so, that the average reader would probably not even want to continue reading.
***Okay, so that's the situation if Killingsworth article is LAME.

BRILLIANT: Maybe the only reason I kept reading the article at all was that I was once in Killingsworth's journalistic shoes, and I was dying to know how he was gonna tie a big bow on the end of this interview. But for whatever reason, I was compelled to keep reading...maybe because of the weird capital letters, the exaggerated language, the total spastic nature of it all. Was he putting his own little spin on Guest's entire career of caricaturing showbiz (from "Spinal Tap" to "A Mighty Wind" to this new film) by couching the article in a similarly snide package? Perhaps the brilliance of Killingsworth's writing was that it was so fresh and unusual, especially for a major national glossy magazine. Maybe the craziness of the writing serves to provide contrast with Christopher Guest's rudeness and aloofness, proving even more clearly how inappropriate and unlikable this filmmaker really is. Or maybe Jason Killingsworth is so brilliant that I don't really "get it," but it's brilliant anyway. I don't exactly know how to explain it, but this article has stayed with me longer than most any other interview I've read in recent years, and I'm certainly gonna view Christopher Guest movies in a new way after reading it.
***So that's the argument in support of the writer.

What do you think?

As I considered blogging about this, I Googled the writer to see if he had any comments floating around online, and sure enough, I found Killingsworth's Blog, and a posting about all the hate mail he's received about this article. Alas, still not really any justification by Jason himself about why he wrote in such a way.

In other literary news, this afternoon I finished reading Chuck Klosterman's book Fargo Rock City. In my previous blog posting I mentioned how much I was loving this book. Well, I think about 3/4ths of the way through it really took a nosedive. Klosterman seems to lose the focus that made the start of the book so wonderful, and he veers off into sad tales of his personal life and lame nostalgia trips through his wild-man days as a college rock journalist. The magic of the early pages of the book comes from a picture of Klosterman's innocent and sheltered small-town life, and the window to a new and unknown world offered by the music and personas of 1980's Heavy Metal. The wonder and awe that Klosterman expresses in the early part of the book is what gives his love of the music its authenticity. But the nosedive occurs when Klosterman loses his innocence, and the music he describes takes a back seat to triple-thinking cultural paranoia and literal alcoholism.

There are beautiful moments to this book, however. I've got dozens of opinions about the issues Klosterman raises: elitism, the value of art, rural Midwestern dysfunction, musicianship, etc. Too many topics, not enough years in life to blog about all this stuff....

I'll tackle some more on another day. But thanks to Jason and Chuck for offering some good mental content for me to chew on in this new year.

Snowmania

Had a good day as stay-home-Dad, after yesterday which may have been my worst parenting day ever. Me, Paavo, and Svea were all cranky and unsoothable yesterday...so much so that Dawn came home early from work to bail us out. But today was great. Kiddos in wonderful spirits, and me feeling rested and happy. I took Paavo outside to play in the snow for the first time this Winter. It was ideal snowman weather...warm, and the snow was sticky and perfect. I haven't made a snowman in YEARS, and it was totally fun. I think Paavo and I built the greatest snowman I'd ever been involved in. Soccer cone hat, rotten potato eyes and nose, copper pipe mouth. Raised arms.

I'm reading an actual book. Chuck Klosterman's "Fargo Rock City" (thank you Santa). I'd seen reviews of it calling it one of the best rock music books ever written, and now I believe it. Klosterman must be my age exactly, and his descriptions of music fan-dom in the '80s are precise and delightful. It's a book about heavy metal, which I didn't like back then, but the book resonates far beyond genre. Maybe more than music, it's a book about the rural Midwest, and the awkwardness of being a teenage boy.
Speaking of Klosterman's book, I just read today in my friend Nate Houge's blog that he, too, likes Klosterman. Nate Houge has a lot in common with me: music fan, Lutheran, songwriter, stay-home-Dad. Nate and family are away for a year while his awesome wife Jodi is on internship, so I've got one less peer to hang out with. Today I posted on Nate's blog a realization that I've just stumbled upon: I've been enjoying the writing of this blog very much lately, probably because I have no real human friends to hang around with these days ('tis the curse of being a stay-home-Dad), so the best I can do is converse and share my life with an invisible friend-group on the internet via this blog. Pretty pitiful, I think, but it seems to give me some sense of comfort and community (false, tho' it may be). It's a wonderful sight to see Dawn walking home from work to spend her evening at home with us...finally, another adult to talk to!

Now that I've plunged into the "new normal" of life in 2007 I hope to do something deliberate about the rather lame state of my social life. In that recent issue of Time magazine "the year in health" I noticed a statistic saying how Americans have an ever-decreasing number of close friends (the average being three, including spouse!), and I thought "sounds familiar!" And to tie this into my deeping connection to my ancestral homeland, the countries of Finland and Sweden have the highest percentage of citizens who live alone, in single-person households. I wonder if this issue is in my genes. As Brian Hennemann of The Bottle Rockets says "Maybe it's something in my genes, maybe it's something in my jeans."

first show of 2007

Only minutes ago I was driving Southbound from downtown Minneapolis on 35W. Here's the view from my steering wheel. This late night drive is become familiar to me, thanks to the great opportunities I've had over these past few Tuesday nights playing with local up and coming songwriter Michael Morris and his band. On my car stereo was spinning the Merle Haggard tribute album I just received via lala.com featuring great covers by my recent obsessions Marshall Crenshaw and Peter Case, plus other cool artists like Lucinda Williams and Joe Ely. It's a good tribute record.

Tonight with Michael's band I played accordion, melodica, and harmonica, and after three shows I'm feeling pretty familiar with the tunes. Michael Morris' songs are superbly classic sounding folk-rock with nice geographic images and very beautiful and clear melodies. It's ideal stuff to play with keyboard instruments 'cause I can sneak in and out of the arrangements and echo these very nice melodic lines, with lots of multi-step jumps and hooks and turnarounds. I have a mid-80s "Guitar" magazine featuring an interview with Eric Bazilian from the Hooters (one of my fave writers) and he says that the best songs are ones you can play with one finger on a piano keyboard, and Michael's songs are like this. Here's a photo of Michael.

We wrapped up the show tonight, but before us were a huge lineup of opening acts that I enjoyed immensely. Very first was Beau Kinstler who I've seen a couple times before there...he's a 400 Bar regular act. Good vocalist, and his singing (and songs, too, for that matter) is a dead ringer for post-Summerteeth Jeff Tweedy.

Next on stage were some VERY fun and interesting acts: the evening's host was comedian Derek Hughes, a magician and comedian originally from Minneapolis and now working in LA. VERY professional, very funny, and totally rocking magic tricks. I have no clue how magicians do their thing, and it blows my mind every time. Another local comedian Mary Mack was up next, and she, too, was fantastic. Her stage presence was a bit like Victoria Williams crossed with Frances McDormand from the movie Fargo or something.

Seeing these comedians was simultaneously inspiring and depressing. Inspiring because they're so obviously gifted and dedicated, and they're out there doing the real thing, following their showbiz dream. Depressing because here are two people with the talent and charisma to be nationally-known celebrities, but they're slaving in obscurity...and if THESE brilliant acts can't make it, how in the heck is Jonathan Rundman supposed to make a dent? Derek even talked about this in his act...how he moved to New York (and now LA) and realized that ultimately his goal is to BE FAMOUS. And so he's searching for that one special angle or perspective that will allow him to climb those last few rungs to serious success.

Speaking of being nationally known and famous, the musical act that played before us was songwriter Marc Perlman of The Jayhawks, and featuring guitarist Jim Boquist formerly of Son Volt. I've been listening to Perlman's music since 1989, and I've been a huge admirer of Boquist's instrumental offerings for over a decade. Now that the 'Hawks are done, I guess Perlman's trying to get back out there, maybe as a solo act. The songs were melancholy mid-tempo soul-country tunes, not unlike some Jayhawks tunes, and many of them with lead vocals by a woman named Janey Winterbaum (or something like that). It was the first time Perlman had played this stuff in public, and it was interesting to see someone who has spent the past nearly-20 years touring the world and playing big clubs and theaters, once again back on a small stage for a couple dozen gabby hipsters. I wonder how he felt about the evening? I thought about introducing myself to Boquist and Perlman, but ended up leaving them alone.

Thanks again, Michael, for inviting me to play! It was a good evening, and it felt satisfying to be out in the real world, with great musicians, a polite audience, fresh and tasty songs, and cruising after midnight down quiet freeways with loud music on the stereo.

Oh, and happy birthday to my son Paavo, who was born 3 years and 8 hours ago.

2007: the New Normal

This photo was taken exactly one year ago today. That's me with my Finnish cousins Carl-Kristian Rundman (he's an actor) and Micke Rundman (he's a TV producer) as we rang in the year 2006 on the shores of the Baltic Sea in downtown Helsinki, Finland. Dawn and Paavo and I went over to Finland and Sweden last New Years to visit our wonderful relatives and connect with our ever-more-meaningful family heritage. Little did we know what that upcoming year 2006 would hold for us!

My life has been in turmoil for the past year and a half. The craziness began in the Summer of 2005, when I suddenly realized my life was careening a bit too much, so I suddenly declared myself on sabbatical. No more gigs, no more web updates (although it's when I began blogging), and five months "off the grid" as I liked to say. I needed that break, and I used my newfound freedom to read books (I NEVER do that!) and record the liturgical portion of the Protestant Rock Ethic album. Near the end of Fall 2005 Dawn and I discovered a great deal on airfare to Scandinavia (thanks Joe!) and jumped at the chance to travel overseas for the new year...and that brings us up to the non-stop turmoil.

Prepping for a Europe trip takes a ton of work (especially with a 2 year old son!) so that demanded our attention for a couple months. After our delightful vacation overseas, we came home with a couple major new ideas: finding a new HOUSE and having a new BABY. So the early months of 2006 were spent getting those plans in motion, and BOOM, before we knew it we were pregnant and putting our house for sale. We found the new house we wanted in a new neighborhood, and began the packing of the previous home. As Summer rolled around I was totally immersed in packing and hauling of boxes and furniture. By June we were living in the new place, but I could barely unpack due to a series of musical tours to Texas, South Dakota, Michigan, etc. Suddenly it was September and I was shutting down the showbiz operation in anticipation of the birth of the new little one. And we weren't unpacked yet!

On October 15th little Svea Irene was born and our family launched into a couple months of maternity leave, and once Dawn went back to work after Thanksgiving I was home with both kiddos all day, prepping for a big Christmas Vacation to Upper Michigan!

So, that brings us up to the present: this morning we left Escanaba, MI and drove back here to our new house in Minnesota. It's 2007, and for the first time in YEARS my calendar has NOTHING on it. No moving, no house-selling, no packing, no loading, no baby-making, no baby-birthing. Just NORMAL life with this new family of four. I've got a few quiet gigs during this upcoming Winter, but not much touring, no huge recordings (just finalizing the "Best of the 20th Century" album), and no major life changes. Just feedings, diapers, potty training, snow shoveling (did that today for the first time at this house!), blogging, laundry, all with the iTunes on shuffle in the background. This is the NEW NORMAL. I hope I like it!

I'm not a fan of New Year's Resolutions, but I will say that in 2007 I hope for:
+ date nights with Dawn with no kids around
+ time to continue to unpack this new house, set up the studio, etc.
+ building new friendships
+ writing a series of brand new rock and roll tunes
+ confidently exploring the beginning of the second third of my life

Read on at this blog location to see how the future unfolds. Love and peace to you and yours in 2007!