I did a nice interview yesterday for a documentary focusing on Woodstock with David Cassidy (not that one) for Barbara Koppel.
As it turned out it came at an unexpected moment. I wasn't really "dressed", hair and all of that, so I wore a hat - the hat Jeordie my daughter sent from Arizona. It has become my new favorite and I'm just baiting you with an undressed Melanie in a hat so you'll have to watch, whenever that will be.
I know they did Steinbrenner in the same day as me. It must have been quite a shift for David and the crew to come to my house after Steinbrenner but all that won’t have much to do with scheduling.
It was a very long interview. Peter and Beau were watching me for five hours and at one point Peter started rubbing his face, making me think I had a schmutch - so if you see me rubbing my face furiously you'll know what happened.
I told them the story of my one woman musical "Seven Days". Everytime I tell it something new unfolds and is revealed to me. For me there is no better way to create than on the spot. I believe this show will have a lot of improvisation and spontaneity. Did I tell you the basic idea of Seven Days?
It's my life and me telling about the life of my friend Juliette from Michigan who couldn’t go to Woodstock but made it to the Gooselake Festival outside of Chicago. She was contacted by an angel or an intergalactic being and told she has seven days to save the planet. I tell our story and sing songs, hers and mine too as our lives weave in and out and parallel. She's as unlikely a candidate as you can imagine. About my age but frumpy - a dramatization of mid lifeness, suffering the disorientation of being dumped by her husband of 30 years and empty nest syndrome. She's juts signed up for ballroom dancing and needs a partner so I guess I'll dance with Juliette
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
To give her the benefit of doubt, she had a lapse of decency...
My two girls, Leilah and Jeordie, went to audition and were one of the last groups to go up for the show Can you Duet?
When Leilah and Jeordie were little, they always sang together. They went on the road with me and Peter. It was a hard life in some instances –being yanked form one school to another, sometimes no school, and having to catch up when they got back.
They were always the odd ones out in all normal growing up activities.
Sometimes I was a famous mom, sometimes not.
What I desperately was trying to do was to keep my family together. Thick or thin, hard times or not.
Always traveling and looking for “a place to raise my children.”
Throughout, the girls would always sing—make up songs, practice ones on the radio, or do mine. I never pushed them into it at all.
Deep down, I didn’t want them to endure a life in the limelight.
The brightest moments career wise, I was the target of people around who were there because of the elusive glow that lures them with promises of warmth and better things. But at its very epicenter—where the star stands—there is nothing.
I didn’t want that for my girls.
“Go to school. Study.” I’ve got to find a home town soon!
But all they knew was “the life”— music and singing together.
Their harmonies from age 5 were close, in tune and beautiful.
Up to present time...
The kids got raised without the benefit of a hometown to be raised in.
Life steps in. Leilah lives in Nashville–writing–with two children.
Jeordie hasn’t found that person yet. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona and plays out most every night.
I’m not a fan of this kind of talent contest.
I’ve got big doubts about motives, politics, and the manufacturing of the new “upcoming” and development of the Roman-arena-spectator-mentality. Judges, spectators and lions.
But I thought, wow, a duet angle, hmmm...
Leilah and Jeordie! Perhaps this is destiny kicking in!
There were some unbelievable obstacles at the last minute—it all happens last minute.
Jeordie flew in last minute, and waded through all the 6 a.m auditions. Then Jeordie flew back to Phoenix to do some shows that night, not believing she had a shot. They found out less than an hour after the departure that she needed to come back for the next round.
Leilah, the more seasoned, having been battered around Nashville for years, remained, standing, waiting in line, holding their places, waiting on this last 17-hour day.
No food, no water. Occasional 20 minute breaks. I won’t go into the inhumanity of these auditions, but my commendations to all the participants that made it to this point still standing, much less performing, it is to all your credit.
Leilah and Jeordie sang a song from a required list and did it beautifully. (I have my ways of knowing this.)
And then one of the 3 judges, a woman, mother, and a singer, who “knows better than” said to my children who just did great, “Are you sure you are from the same gene pool?”
First of all, that expression has been used in humorous set-ups since the 80s. It has been done.
What would this woman have said, if they had not been my children? (And a big deal had been made of them being my children.)
What poison runs in her veins to attempt this?
The other judge, Big Kenny, said, “Momma! did you just hear what I heard?” in defense of Leilah and Jeordie.
But the malice had been done.
Leilah was shaken, but still standing. Jeordie, the younger, didn’t fare as well.
When the defending judge asked them to sing something else, Jeordie in reflex panic mode, I suppose, broke into a song that she had recently written about a chicken, that neither she nor Leilah had ever rehearsed. Leilah stood in horror for a few seconds and tried to jump in.
That’s all she wrote, it was over for them.
The evil deed had been done. It worked.
What motive? Jealousy? Mean spiritedness, to say the least.
It is the kind of deliberate vengefulness that stops another’s survival.
Destructive criticism is intended to derogate.
It’s not criticism for getting someone to do better.
Valid criticisms in art and music are ones that can clue an artist on how to do better. Otherwise, it’s authority taking unfair shots at a victim.
Naomi Judd, shame on you.
To give her the benefit of doubt, she had a lapse of decency.
When Leilah and Jeordie were little, they always sang together. They went on the road with me and Peter. It was a hard life in some instances –being yanked form one school to another, sometimes no school, and having to catch up when they got back.
They were always the odd ones out in all normal growing up activities.
Sometimes I was a famous mom, sometimes not.
What I desperately was trying to do was to keep my family together. Thick or thin, hard times or not.
Always traveling and looking for “a place to raise my children.”
Throughout, the girls would always sing—make up songs, practice ones on the radio, or do mine. I never pushed them into it at all.
Deep down, I didn’t want them to endure a life in the limelight.
The brightest moments career wise, I was the target of people around who were there because of the elusive glow that lures them with promises of warmth and better things. But at its very epicenter—where the star stands—there is nothing.
I didn’t want that for my girls.
“Go to school. Study.” I’ve got to find a home town soon!
But all they knew was “the life”— music and singing together.
Their harmonies from age 5 were close, in tune and beautiful.
Up to present time...
The kids got raised without the benefit of a hometown to be raised in.
Life steps in. Leilah lives in Nashville–writing–with two children.
Jeordie hasn’t found that person yet. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona and plays out most every night.
I’m not a fan of this kind of talent contest.
I’ve got big doubts about motives, politics, and the manufacturing of the new “upcoming” and development of the Roman-arena-spectator-mentality. Judges, spectators and lions.
But I thought, wow, a duet angle, hmmm...
Leilah and Jeordie! Perhaps this is destiny kicking in!
There were some unbelievable obstacles at the last minute—it all happens last minute.
Jeordie flew in last minute, and waded through all the 6 a.m auditions. Then Jeordie flew back to Phoenix to do some shows that night, not believing she had a shot. They found out less than an hour after the departure that she needed to come back for the next round.
Leilah, the more seasoned, having been battered around Nashville for years, remained, standing, waiting in line, holding their places, waiting on this last 17-hour day.
No food, no water. Occasional 20 minute breaks. I won’t go into the inhumanity of these auditions, but my commendations to all the participants that made it to this point still standing, much less performing, it is to all your credit.
Leilah and Jeordie sang a song from a required list and did it beautifully. (I have my ways of knowing this.)
And then one of the 3 judges, a woman, mother, and a singer, who “knows better than” said to my children who just did great, “Are you sure you are from the same gene pool?”
First of all, that expression has been used in humorous set-ups since the 80s. It has been done.
What would this woman have said, if they had not been my children? (And a big deal had been made of them being my children.)
What poison runs in her veins to attempt this?
The other judge, Big Kenny, said, “Momma! did you just hear what I heard?” in defense of Leilah and Jeordie.
But the malice had been done.
Leilah was shaken, but still standing. Jeordie, the younger, didn’t fare as well.
When the defending judge asked them to sing something else, Jeordie in reflex panic mode, I suppose, broke into a song that she had recently written about a chicken, that neither she nor Leilah had ever rehearsed. Leilah stood in horror for a few seconds and tried to jump in.
That’s all she wrote, it was over for them.
The evil deed had been done. It worked.
What motive? Jealousy? Mean spiritedness, to say the least.
It is the kind of deliberate vengefulness that stops another’s survival.
Destructive criticism is intended to derogate.
It’s not criticism for getting someone to do better.
Valid criticisms in art and music are ones that can clue an artist on how to do better. Otherwise, it’s authority taking unfair shots at a victim.
Naomi Judd, shame on you.
To give her the benefit of doubt, she had a lapse of decency.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
I am not fond of e-speak
I am not fond of e-speak
and I hardly abbreviate ever
even on my shopping lists
I’m more the quill pen and parchment type
so I dislike type casting
I tend to qualify everything
two to fours times before or after I say anything.
I know how annoying that can be
Beau Jarred doubles my number at least
before saying "Good morning Mama”
Today it's cold but sunny
I’m spending my Florida’s in winter
Love Melanie
and I hardly abbreviate ever
even on my shopping lists
I’m more the quill pen and parchment type
so I dislike type casting
I tend to qualify everything
two to fours times before or after I say anything.
I know how annoying that can be
Beau Jarred doubles my number at least
before saying "Good morning Mama”
Today it's cold but sunny
I’m spending my Florida’s in winter
Love Melanie
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