Newsletter

Symphony Hall or Bust !
April 9, 2012

Gang,

Things are popping around here, but I’ve been too busy with a lost dog issue to tend to the popper. In this household dogs are esteemed members of the family, held in as high regard as any human. (Sometimes higher, depending on what the human has been up to lately. “In the doghouse” can actually be an upgrade.) Suffice it to say that the pup disappeared on Saturday afternoon and wasn’t found until 22 hours later, a mile away, by a friendly neighbor. So Saturday night was sleepless, and Easter was spent plastering the town with fliers, including putting them in mailboxes. I know this is illegal, but I was planning to blame it on our 12 year-old who “didn’t know any better.” Once the dog was found I had to go back around and retrieve them all. The idea of a 12 year-old doing hard time was more than I could bear.

Back to the popping. The REAL BIG NEWS is that we’re making a run at doing a bash at Symphony Hall, Boston, on Friday, December 28th as the Grand Finale for my 50th year on stage. I’m envisioning this as a resounding echo of the shows I used to do there in the early ’80s, lots of guests, lots of fun. Now this is a huge undertaking, but I figure if we can get the folks who are interested involved up front we might be able to pull it off. And here’s how we do it:

There’s a website called Kickstarter.com that is dedicated to raising money for artistic projects – books, works of art, fun software, what have you. And concerts! You set a goal ($100,000 – this is my best guess at a break-even number) and a deadline (47 days, for the old Club 47), and offer rewards for different levels of participation. In this case the obvious reward is tickets to the show, the best seats priced slightly BELOW what they will be once they’re offered to the public. There’s other stuff, too – guitars, CDs, posters, tee shirts and so forth – for folks who can’t get to Boston on 12/28/12. IF we reach our goal by the deadline, then and only then will your credit card be charged. If we fall short the whole thing just disappears. No charges, no rewards, and probably no concert. Check it out atKickstarter.] Get on board if you can!

Also in the news, I’ll be going back to Passim for two more shows, one June and one in September – I’ll give you advance notice as soon as the dates are firmed up. Also, a Canadian outfit, McKenzie & Marr has created a dazzling reincarnation of the Naked Lady guitar that I played throughout the 70’s and ’80s. I do a whole newsletter on her soon, but you can visit her right now at http://www.macmarr.com/store/tom-rush-naked-lady.

And lastly, but far from leastly, Todd Kwait and his merry band (he’s the guy masterminding the documentary on me that is in progress even now) will be premiering his film on the Club 47, “For the Love of the Music,” (Also on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Club47Film – Twitter: @club47film) at theBoston International Film Festival, Tuesday April 17 at 6pm. It’s a very nice piece of work.

Enjoy the Spring!!

Tom Rush

Quote of the month: “I care not much for a man’s religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.” Abraham Lincoln

November 10, 2011

Halloween is a very stressful holiday, or whatever it is, for me. With the kids it’s a quasi-religious occasion, and, not wanting to dampen their enthusiasm, I go along with it all, carving pumpkins and baking those nasty little orange cupcakes, pasting on my best smile and enthusing, “Ohhh, this is YUMMY!”

This year my daughter-dictated costume was in the theme of a “Devil Butler.” Black, slicked-back hair, red horns, red moustache, nose ring and tuxedo – nothing that would attract attention.

All the Trick-of-Treating here is done in the center of town – the rest of the hamlet is just too spread out. While waiting for the Kid and her hench-persons to pillage the village I, in all my costumed glory, stopped into the pub to console myself with a quick pint. Before I’d had a chance to consider how to get the foam past my dyed-and-spiked moustache, this woman I’d never seen before in my life comes running up to me and gushes, “Aren’t you Tom Rush?” Lord! What does a guy have to do to blend in?

But all that’s minor stuff in the greater scheme of things. The real trouble is candy. The aftermath.

We live at end of the road, at the top of the hill – no kid would dare come here. But nonetheless we get some candy every year, just in case some poor tyke screws up the courage to confront the great unknown. Of course they never do, and we have a pile of leftover Mars Bars, Skittles, Hershey’s Kisses, on and on. So what is to become of this stuff? I don’t want my family risking their dental health, laying on needless pounds … and think of the triglycerides! On the other hand, I’m from New England and throwing it away is not an option. It’s a real dilemma!

The answer, as in so many things, is, of course, self-sacrifice. I thoughtfully hide it away in various secure locations, and then over time – say, a day or so – when no one is looking, I consume it. I do this only to keep my loved ones from succumbing to temptation, gorging themselves on those vile empty calories, exposing themselves to the above-mentioned health hazards.

But am I appreciated for this selfless act of sacrifice and devotion? No! Words like “Pig!” and “Glutton!” are bandied about, along with dire premonitions about diabetes and heart attacks. But that is precisely the point, you see. I take the bullet for them! I throw myself in front of the onrushing train, pushing them to safety at the last possible second! Someday they will understand. Perhaps next Halloween.

I feel better, having gotten that off my chest. Now down to business. Or play – for me they’re pretty much the same thing. I’m doing a New York tour this weekend: Friday the 11th in Syracuse, Saturday the 12th in Mamaroneck, Sunday the 13th out on the Island at Bayshore.

The following weekend there are just two shows: Saturday the 19th in Chatham, NJ, at the Sanctuary, and Sunday the 20th in Philly at the World Café Live. Come on by or send a friend.

Oh! And the Fish Story Song Video should be available just in time for the holidays – it’s looking great! Little kids and grownups are loving it – it’s too “childish,” or so I’m told, for 12 year-olds.

All the best,

Tom Rush

Quote of the month: “This Halloween, the most popular mask is the Arnold Schwarzenegger mask. And the best part? With a mouth full of candy you will sound just like him.” Conan O’Brien

October 14, 2011

Gang,

I’m just finishing up a whole month at home, which hardly ever happens, and it’s been delightful. We were out picking apples the other day, and seeing some windfalls on the ground took me back to a childhood scene, just about this time of year.

We spent our summers in Connecticut and had a couple of pastures on the property. To keep them from growing up with bushes and weeds my parents rented them out to a farmer, who fenced them in an filled them up with Holsteins – huge, amiable beasts of impeccable character, but not towering intellects. In looking for a quiet spot to practice the guitar one day, I discovered they were also curious. As I sat at the edge of their domain working on the old C-G-F rotation I looked up to discover that all thirty of them, more or less, had gathered around and were standing there staring at me in calm bewilderment, placidly chewing their cuds.

It was my first audience ever, and I was exhilarated, of course, at the notion that, even at this early age, I could draw a crowd. Cows, mind you, and perhaps “herd” would be the better word, but still … it was a thrill. As soon as I stopped playing, though, and made eye contact they became uneasy and started to edge away. I started playing again and they came closer. I waved the guitar and sang loudly, “When John HENRY was a little BABY,” and they stampeded, and I had to start the courtship all over again.

It was a game we played often that summer, and it taught me the basics of relating to a college audience. There was a time, in fact, in the early fall when the girls got into some windfall apples that had fermented on the ground – the bovine equivalent of Boone’s Farm – and I got my first taste of playing for a bunch of drunks. I’m here to tell you that a herd of Holstein hecklers is about as tough a crowd as you’re going to find.

On another note, as it were, the Fish Story Song Video is coming along very nicely (with an animated fish, no less). I’m very happy with it and hope to have something to show you in about a month’s time.

And I’m headed out for some shows starting next weekend, perhaps to a theater near you. Check the listings below and come by if you can, or send this on to Uncle Bill if something happens to be in his neighborhood. Five of the first six on the list are at venues I’ve never visited before, so I may be getting to meet some of you for the first time.

Stay warm and dry, listen to good music!

All the best,

Tom Rush

Quotes of the month: “There’s nothing like sitting back and talking to your cows.” – Russell Crowe. “Studying cows, pigs and chickens can help an actor develop his character. There are a lot of things I learned from animals. One was that they couldn’t hiss or boo me.” James Dean
So I’m in good company!

May 6, 2011

Gang,

It’s been a crazy few weeks. It was great to again be a part of the Prairie Home Companion show a couple of weeks ago. It was The Kid’s spring break, so we all went down to NYC for the week. They put us up on the 45th floor of a hotel right on Times Square, a corner room with windows looking down on the seething hordes. Quite a contrast to rural Vermont.

They have these gigantic electronic billboards showing young women writhing about in their underwear, which Renee and I found very disturbing. I actually think I was more disturbed than she was – couldn’t believe my eyes, really. I had to keep going to the window to confirm that I’d actually seen these upsetting images, sometimes getting up in the middle of the night just to check if they were still there. Shocking!

This is a very last-minute heads-up that I’ve got three Midwest shows in a row starting tonight: The Thrasher in Green Lake, WI; Saturday at the Cedar Center in Minneapolis; and Sunday night at Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music. Come by and see me if you can.

Happy Spring!

All the best,

Tom Rush

February 11, 2011

Gang,

Unbeknownst to me, my loving wife conspired with Dan the Web Man to alert you to the fact that I had a birthday with a zero at the end coming up. I want to thank everyone who took the time to send me notes on FaceBook, on the Comments section of the website or via email. The sheer volume of this outpouring was startling, and I’m afraid I just can’t reply to everyone individually, but please know that you were each noted and appreciated! It was so nice, in fact, that I think I might do it again next month.

My Birthday Resolution is to spend more regular time on the creative process – both on music and on some of the other notions that have been rattling around in my head for years. I intend to go where the muse takes me rather than allot so many minutes for this, so many for that. This can be a somewhat risky proposition in that my particular muse seems to have a rather tenuous grasp on anything that we normal people might consider reality.

The Muse, is, of course, a very useful construct. We’ve all heard countless artists say that they were merely the channel for their work, which flowed from some Greater Source. I endorse this line of thinking because, on the one hand, it seems true, and, on the other, it gives one plausible deniability if it turns out that the work really, really sucks. “It’s not MY fault – the Greater Source did it.”

For example, I recently found a bird lying under the feeder by the kitchen window and brought him in to show Renee. (She is, among other things, a wildlife biologist, and I thought she’d be fascinated.) (And, yes, we have the little hawk-outline decals in the windows and all that good stuff.) She suggested that I write a song celebrating the bird’s time here, touching on the transitory nature of life and the ephemeral quality that lies at the heart of beauty. When I sat down, this is what Greater Source served up:

Oh, the bird is dead, ‘cause he bashed his head,
On the window by the kitchen.
Now he ain’t flappin’, he ain’t flyin’,
He ain’t even twitchin’.

And it went downhill from there. It’s NOT MY FAULT, you see. I am totally innocent. (I think, though, that I will NOT make a coloring book out of this one. Renee agrees.)

I’m headed out West later this month – check out the schedule below and come see me if you can. Stay warm!

All the best,

Tom Rush

Quote of the month: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? – Satchel Paige