From otrannounce at overtherhine.com Sun Apr 1 20:52:28 2012 From: otrannounce at overtherhine.com (Announcement list for the band Over The Rhine) Date: Sun, 1 Apr 2012 20:52:28 -0400 Subject: [OTR Announce] Over the Rhine April Concerts and more Message-ID: Hello again friends, It has been good to watch the many tiny miracles we refer to as ?spring? reveal themselves yet again here on Nowhere Farm. The buds and blooms (and birds) arrived early this year. As March now winds down, and the crescent moon climbs higher in its dark and curving dance with Venus and Jupiter, we are reminded that the world still has its surprises. Those surprises continue to be both tragic and wondrous. Close long time friends are told that two of their children are struggling with rare genetic illnesses that will likely become progressively challenging. The prognosis is not encouraging. The old maples around our farmhouse wave in a display of red buds. Our godchildren struggle to navigate the sometimes troubled and ugly terrain of public high school. We root for them. Daffodils bloom uproariously in the ditch. Everywhere you look the world is broken and beautiful. We marked the 4th anniversary of my father?s passing this March 15, and I have to admit I have not done particularly well. The mockingbird that followed me around the farm that first summer in his absence has appeared only briefly this spring and quickly flies elsewhere. Grief feels incomplete. But we try to sing our way through. We?ve been recording simple versions of our new songs here on the farm, and my father certainly makes his appearances. For example: Well the hallelujah chorus used to make my Daddy cry I still wonder ?bout the ruckus angels make up there on high In the meanwhile there are measures we can take to get us by Lay me down next to you in Ohio Yes, we try to sing our way through. There are two musical projects taking shape in our midst that we hope will be revealed this year. And yes (thanks for asking) we will most likely try once again to make these records communally with you, our extended musical family. (That is if you?re willing and still feel like betting on the muse.) We?ve been scheming about ways to make the whole experience fun and hopefully somewhat unique. More soon on all this. (And if you have any ideas or suggestions, drop us a line: otrhine at aol.com). (We certainly were humbled and blessed by your collective generosity in making The Long Surrender.) Yes. In the meanwhile there are measures we can take to get us by: Karin and I are seeking stages off the beaten path to try out some of the new songs, to hear the new songs in the context of some of our older songs, to feel how they breathe in a room in front of an audience... Which brings us to you. Join us for some bare-boned, warmly-lit evenings of music as we try to get at the heart and soul of the matter. Hope to see you. Peace like a river, love like an ocean, Linford (and Karin) +++ *Acoustic Evenings with Over the Rhine* *EASTER WEEKEND*: Good Friday, April 6, San Rafael, CA, Marin County Civic Center Showcase Theater Saturday, April 7, Santa Cruz, CA, Kuumbwa Easter Sunday, April 8, Sacramento, CA, Harlow?s Thursday, April 12, Ponte Vedra, FL, The Ponte Vedra Concert Hall Friday, April 13, Stuart, FL, The Lyric Theatre Sunday, April 15, Tampa, FL, David A. Straz Jr. Center for the Performing Arts Friday, April 27, Decatur, GA, Eddie?s Attic Saturday, April 28, Duluth, GA, Red Clay Theatre (Atlanta Area) Friday, May 4, Evanston, IL, SPACE Saturday, May 5, Evanston, IL, SPACE (Chicago area) See overtherhine.com for much more... Please share this letter freely. Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers, you?re welcome. You can stay right here. You don?t have to go. Thanks. +++ And now for something a little different, for those of you who would like to read the fine print, here is a draft of a poem I wrote not too long after my father died. My uncle Rudy, mentioned in the poem, has also been laid to rest. Enjoy. LJD +++ Slowly the land reveals itself To us. We learn to recognize The difference Between a starling And a female redwing Blackbird. Slowly the land reveals itself To us. We learn to recognize The difference between A honey locust And a black locust, A chokecherry And a wild black cherry. Slowly the land reveals itself To us. *** Our neighbors Nurse hundreds of white pine seedlings In the warm diffused light Of a greenhouse. During the first twelve months, The trees, each in their own individual pot, Grow to the height Of not quite half an inch. We stand And fall silent By folding tables Spread with a miniature forest. *** Slowly the land reveals itself To us. We learn to recognize The difference between Killing time And resting. *** As we tend Our once-neglected farm We tame it by cutting Meandering Walking paths Everywhere. But we leave the edges wild With thistle, goldenrod, Dogbane, pokeweed. Let the songbirds Have thorny hidden places For their wild melodies. I walk the paths In the deep silence of the after dark And feel a wild relief Of anonymity. I disappear. *** Walking through my old neighborhood In the city, My father once remarked, Ah, this is my favorite tree: The sweet gum. He leaned on it for a few moments As if leaning on an old friend. It hadn?t occurred to me That I should have a favorite tree. *** The beech tree has a plain name, But its bark is smooth as a Woman in the woods. Once, my father told me that when He and his brother Rudy returned to the family Farm in Delaware, they saw on the old Beeches there, words they had carved With Barlow blades as boys Fifty-some years earlier: the names of girls They thought they loved, And their own names Waiting for them still, Preserved like benign childhood wounds In a diary of dappled sunlight. When I last saw my Uncle Rudy, I asked if those beech trees were still there. He said, Oh no, and fell silent, And his eyes glassed over. He peered deep into the distance And held his noble mouth Like men do, Who will not weep In the face of the grim indignities Of old age. *** I planted a young beech tree this spring On the edge of our woodlot. I dug the wild thing free With a spade, carried it home Out of an old falling down fencerow By the creek. I hugged the root ball wrapped in burlap To my chest like an infant in arms And nodded hello to the May apples As we passed by. The breeze rustled the beech leaves Like a tiny sail And made of us a small boat As we steered across the field Toward home. Now we watch the transplanted beech tree. It?s been touch and go. It?s always difficult, isn?t it: Getting favorite things to grow. *** I spoke recently with an intelligent, Well-read American friend (Who I like and admire) About a trip he and his family Made to Red River Gorge in Kentucky. Sitting there in the springtime Surrounded by Vast stretches of deciduous forest And the stern silences of steep cliffs, It occurred to him and his family That they weren?t Quite sure what to do with themselves. Eventually they got in their car And felt relieved to go looking for a Pizza Hut out along the highway. It occurs to me now that going to the woods Without knowing any of the many names Of its inhabitants Must be about as interesting as going To a beautiful library Without knowing how to read. How hard have we worked to acquire Our fresh ignorance? *** After Daddy died, I was surprised to find I needed to know the names of trees, The names of birds and weeds Gone to seed. John Detweiler could no longer Do the naming for me. I spoke the names myself for once and found New vocabulary for my wilted grief. It just so happens It was Red River Gorge That became an open book to me. It was there for the first time that I began To call the towering Tulip poplars by name. And the sourwood, The redbud, the dogwood. I walked beneath the tall umbrellas Of large leaf magnolias and by banks of blooming Rhododendron. I learned the difference between Staghorn and winged sumac. I watched the chinkapin oaks Sway in their exchange of high secrets, Felt the soft swish and hush of the low branches Of hemlocks on my bare arms along cool creek banks. I grinned to myself past thorny patches Of devil?s walking stick, Touched the bark of sugar maples, red maples, silver maples? Whose leaves still squint toward the ground. And far up on a ridge, finally, I walked beneath a lone beech tree, Leaning toward me. Surely the lone beech tree spoke something In the deep silence Of its shade, As I leaned on it Like a new friend, And felt its uncarved skin. *** The young beech trees cling to their Leaves in the fall And long after other trees are bare, As you drive by the woods, They will seem to twirl Like girls in pale skirts Dancing there. -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From otrannounce at overtherhine.com Thu Jun 28 17:51:32 2012 From: otrannounce at overtherhine.com (Announcement list for the band Over The Rhine) Date: Thu, 28 Jun 2012 17:51:32 -0400 (EDT) Subject: [OTR Announce] Happy Summer from Over the Rhine Message-ID: Hello friends, We are home on the farm in a place called Nowhere, and happyto be so. I?m sitting outside this morning at a round table in a shady cornersurveying the scene. The winter wheat in our neighbor?s field has been harvestedleaving a golden brown swath winding through surrounding fields of green. A few cicadas woke up this morning, and they are revvingtheir engines, rattling the cages of their desire. A house wren chatters incessantly.A bobwhite whistles. We watched a wild turkey make its way cautiously throughthe wheat stubble. And here, around the porch, the hummingbirds thrum aninvisible harp of air as they visit the feeders that Karin fills religiouslywith her sweet formulas. It?s supposed to be a hot one today: 100 degrees. I got upearly to give the tomatoes and peppers and squash and watermelon and okra (etc)in the garden a good drink. Karin watered the flowerbeds and the mint and thehanging ferns on the porch. (One of the hanging ferns was home to a lovely pairof house finches (the male looks like a sparrow dipped in wine) but their fouryoung ones fledged successfully, and they have all moved on.) Last night I soaked the roots of the young trees we plantedthis spring. We?re hoping the wind doesn?t get to blowing too much today,because hot windy days can be hard on the old maples. But right now there?s agentle breeze just significant enough to help the locust trees lean into eachother in a hush of whispered secrets. And when the wind picks up a little, the tall Norway Sprucesbecome woodwind instruments. Their green lungs fill and exhale a soft musicthat seems good for the soul. (Which we still refer to as the sound of the holyspirit.) (Psithurism, according to the dictionary.) I think it?s safe to say that this has been the best springof our lives. It arrived early. March was mostly bright, mild and inviting,reviving everything including our spirits. A film crew arrived from Utah here onthe farm the first few days of April to shoot an episode for a series called ?TheSong That Changed My Life,? and it was already gorgeous outside ? 65, even 70degrees, strong hints of spring everywhere. We enjoyed the taping, and it feltlike they really captured something. Hopefully you can all take a peek at thatsoon, when it airs. Karin and I slipped away on most weekends in April for tripsto California, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, and enjoyed these shorter tripsimmensely. But we realized we were also longing to reconnect with our home,this particular patch of earth here in the rolling fields of Ohio. Karin has been raising up a blue merle Great Dane puppy forstarters. Miss Minnie Pearl was a little squirt of a pup (17 pounds) when wegot her in January (our pearl merle girl) but now, at seven months, she?sedging up to 90 pounds on the scale, and tall enough to pull things off thekitchen counter at will. ?Minnie, Don?t lick the rum cake!? When she gets to rough-housing, everyone ducks and covers.It?s like playing in the living room with a medium-sized frisky pony. But she?sgot a big sweet side, and she rounds out the pack nicely. Elroy had left aGreat Dane size hole in our hearts when he passed on, so Minnie has assumed thegreat speckled dog mantle for this current chapter. And Karin is a more-than-willingdog-mama: an animal lover through and through. And as for me, I was romanced this year beyond belief by themany, many birds that pass through Nowhere Farm each spring. (Many choose tonest right here among us.) I reached a point in my life where I needed to knowthe name of what was singing over my shoulder. Is that too much to ask? Karin bought me a good pair of binoculars for a belatedbirthday present, and it was like I discovered crack cocaine. I would wake atdawn and begin walking and watch the new movie called morning roll into being. I had learned the names of all the trees on our propertyafter my father passed away, and now it was time to learn the names and songsof these, our many winged companions. I?ve been drunk on it. When my fatherfirst visited this place, he encouraged us to leave the edges wild (a goodmetaphor for songwriting as well) and that approach has rewarded us with, offthe top of my head, bobwhite quail Eastern meadowlarks redwing blackbirds killdeer indigo buntings song sparrows cardinals catbirds Eastern pewees orchard orioles cedar waxwings mourning doves chipping sparrows Carolina wrens gold finches field sparrows tree swallows house finches willow flycatchers barn swallows grackles starlings red bellied woodpeckers tufted titmice house wrens nuthatches downy woodpeckers hummingbirds galore the occasional blue jay the occasional mockingbird great blue herons flying overhead various circling hawks and secretive after dark owls not to mention the warblers that pass through on their wayfurther north? (I?ll never forget the first morning a common yellow throatcame into focus ten feet from me on the edge of our maple grove: a tiny brightyellow bird with a black raccoon mask singingwitchity-witchity-witchity-witch.) But the big news has been the arrival, this spring, onNowhere Farm, of bluebirds. It took a few years of Karin singing, ?There?s a bluebird inmy heart?? but they finally heard the call and arrived. I had a premonitionthey might choose our little place, when I stumbled across about two dozenbluebirds down by the creek the February after The Long Surrender was released.It was such an extravagance there in the snow that I couldn?t breathe normallyfor a few hours. Never in my life had I seen anything like it. Well, I won?t give you the long version here, because itfeels like a book of some kind that needs to be written. But suffice it to saythat I followed a pair of bluebirds around our farm in late April with abluebird house my father built until I found a spot they approved of. After anumber of misadventures and close calls, they successfully hatched and raisedfour fledglings, which are now happily sitting shoulder to shoulder in thelocust grove overlooking our garden. Observing the efforts of this resilient,tireless bluebird couple day after day, and protecting a little corner of theworld that allowed four new bluebirds to fly out into Ohio, feels intuitivelylike one of the most significant achievements of my lifetime so far. (Few things have caused me as much pleasure as watching abluebird swoop into the garden and pick a tasty creeping thing off of ourbroccoli.) We have an old milk house and the male bluebird likes to siton the peak of the roof above the door facing North as if he is on the prow ofan old battle-scarred ship sailing into the wild. My father would be proud. We are working on our own fledgling songs, still leaving theedges wild, and we hope to begin recording for real soon when the time isright. We are still thinking we will do another communal art-making enterprisewith any and all of you who are willing participants. See if we can catch andrelease a little wild beauty into the world, which we can all call our own. Thereis a song cycle taking shape around the farm, this place we call home. (And ourthird Christmas project seems to be coming into focus.) And our last greatadventure might be figuring out how to share Nowhere Farm with you, ourextended musical family. We find ourselves thinking seriously about turningthis into a shared creative space of some kind where we can offer evenings ofmusic in the open night air. Stay tuned. In the meanwhile, mark your calendars as we have a few shorttrips planned. Yes, we have a few evenings of music up our sleeves that wewould love to share with you. Try out a few of these new songs. And a few oldones too. Hope to see you. Peace like a river, love like an ocean, Linford and Karin +++ Over the Rhine Back Roads Tour This weekend: Come explore some Michigan wineries, orchards,lake shores etc with a prized companion or three and then join us as we setsome songs free in the fading light of evening (acoustic shows w/L&K): This Saturday, June 30, Jackson, Michigan: FolkGaloreFestival Sunday, July 1, Three Oaks, Michigan: Acorn Theatre (We are slipping away after Three Oaks for a private show inColorado. Our thoughts are with all of those who are struggling with the firesthere.) FREE SHOW: July 22 (Save the date!) (Full band) Over the Rhine returns to Over-the-Rhine: Join us in our old namesake neighborhood of Over-the-Rhinein Cincinnati on Sunday evening, July 22, as we celebrate the grand opening ofWashington Park. Karin and I recently walked through this $50,000,000 projectin the works. The fact that someone would revive this beautiful 8 acres ofgreen space in the heart of a neighborhood that remains a local and nationaltreasure makes us believe something has gone right in the world. Saturday, July 28, Albuquerque, NM: South Broadway CulturalCenter (This show kicks off our annual summer pilgrimage to thehigh desert for 10 days.) Saturday, August 11, Huntington, Indiana: Fandana Festival(See festival website for additional info!) September shows include another trip back to Texas tobeautiful Blue Rock Studios in Wimberly, and the Dosey Doe in the Houston area;the Kent Folk Festival in Kent, Ohio, on September 21; and our acoustic tour ofthe Northeast beginning in Pittsburgh on September 27. More fall dates and showdetails at overtherhine.com? Hope to see you soon. Rave on. L&K PS Please share this letter freely with kindred spirits. To unsubscribe, pls drop a note to otrhine at aol.com... -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: