Melodica

Last month, my dear friend Kendy Gable asked me to do the poster art for Melodica Music Festival, an international acoustic festival that celebrates emerging artists. The third NYC Melodica is happening this weekend at the Sidewalk Cafe and we would love to see you there!

Kendy asked me to create something that merged city and country for the poster, and despite all my brainstorming, the first idea to come out was everyone's favorite: a tree made up of NYC's iconic brownstones. 

It started with a sketch:

Although, let's be real, two of my other sketches were damn cute:

(Born of the same essential idea, obviously, but in two different and adorable incarnations.)

But to return to the poster at hand, I proceeded to sketch out my design meticulously, full scale on marker paper.

I then colored in each house individually using a combination of design markers, colored pencil and fine tip black markers.

See you at the festival!

Melody

Earth Day

Sundays are perhaps my favorite day of the week. And despite the rain, today was a particularly good one for me. Every Sunday I wake up to two buttery voices gently lulling me awake on "Being With," a spirituality program on NPR. I put on something vaguely nicer than usual and cycle on down Flushing. There's hardly any traffic at all so early on a Sunday, and my route takes me past the Navy Yard. Most importantly that row of abandoned homes; former navy officials homes, I'm told. I went there a couple times with my first boyfriend to explore the beautiful ruins. I make my way to my spiritual home at the First Unitarian Universalist Congregational Society of Brooklyn. I rehearse with the choir at 9AM. And at 9AM our choir director (a brilliant multi-instrumentalist) picked up a banjo and plucked an incredibly beautiful melody. I'd never heard it before, yet it felt heartrendingly familiar.

I'm not sure what it was precisely. Was it just that song? Or the banjo? Or was it the rain poised to descend? The new moon? A lonely weekend? Nostalgia? Hope for the future? Whatever it was, I had a very emotional day in the best possible way, and it started with that song. "The Cool of the Day" by Jean Ritchie. 

Perfect for Earth Day, this folk revival tune recalls an Appalachian tradition with lyrics that warn mankind of the dangers in failing to keep our planet healthy.

After a particularly moving sermon about integrity and a particularly pleasant coffee hour, I biked home, particularly happy to get drenched in the rain.

And after I was warm and dry and cozy in my bed with a PBS Nature special about whales, I revisited "The Cool of the Day" all by myself. Just me and my mandolin in my room. It's no church choir and it's no 30-foot-vaulted-ceiling, but here's my own humble version I recorded for you:

The Cool of the Day 

The Cool of the Day

Jean Ritchie

My Lord, he said unto me
Do you like my garden so fair
You may live in this garden if you'll keep the grasses green
And I'll return in the cool of the day

My Lord, he said unto me
Do you like my garden so pure
You may live in this garden if you’ll keep the waters clean
And I’ll return in the cool of the day

Chorus:
   Now is the cool of the day
   Now is the cool of the day
   This earth is a garden, the garden of my Lord
   And he walks in his garden
   In the cool of the day

Then my Lord, he said unto me
Do you like my pastures so green
You may live in this garden if you will feed my sheep
And I'll return in the cool of the day

Then my Lord, he said unto me
Do you like my garden so free
You may live in this garden if you'll keep the people free
And I'll return in the cool of the day

"Hello world!" -- Baby Beet

Answering Machine: A Retrospective

A few weeks ago I had the great displeasure of attending a resume workshop with a rather threatening representative from the Career Services Office. She wailed on about a lot of things we're all probably doing wrong, but there was just one point that struck a soft spot in me. Your answering machine message. "I don't care how much you like that Miley Cyrus song, prospective employers will just hang up the phone. Your outgoing message must be professional, 'Hello, this is So-and-so, please leave a message."

Does this mean I have to change my message?

Just for some stinking job?

I've been writing answering machine ditties since middle school. I've never had an outgoing message that wasn't a song. I mean, my name is Melody, for God's sake. Who would I be without my answering machine ditties?

While pondering these deep, philosophical questions, I decided I ought to put together a retrospective of all my ditties through the years. Perhaps an homage to a tradition I'll put to rest. And in honor of the sad, sad day when I graduate from college and begin my job search with a fresh, new, "You've reached Melody, please leave a message after the tone," I wrote a brand new ditty to grace my voicemail for the few remaining fortnights. It's my best yet, I think.

But first let us look back.

It all began with a love for the late Green Day hit single, "Minority" back around the turn of the millennium. I set the words of your typical greeting to some version of the tune from the chorus of "Minority".  Altering the lyrics so that they would vaguely rhyme never even occurred to me until my BFF Andrew (who surely listened to this message far more times than anyone else in the world) commented on the lack of rhyme. Nevertheless, this, the original ditty hung on for around three years before giving way to an updated, rhymeful version.

c. 2000 - 2003

Melody is not at home to answer your call,

Just leave a message after the beep,

And she'll get back to you.

This next ditty, the longest running version of them all, showed some significant strides in my songwriting. The tune was completely original, and pretty catchy I must admit. It acquired additional acclaim when I was commissioned to record a personalized version for my friend Susanna's outgoing message.

c. 2003 - 2008

Melody cannot reach the phone,

So leave your name and number after the tone,

And she'll get back as soon, as soon as she can.

Finally, after 5 years I was inspired to write a brand new answering machine ditty. More complex than the last, this tune introduced a new level of variety into my melodic lines.

c. 2008 - 2010

You've reached Me-e-lody,

I cannot pick up presently,

But you can leave a message after the tone,

And I can reach you later on the phone,

I look forward to hearing from you,

I look forward to hearing from you.

By 2010, my musical aesthetic had evolved quite a bit. By now I was taking fiddle lessons and teaching myself to play the mandolin; I was active in the Brooklyn folk scene and completely enamored with early blues. I borrowed the melody here from the old spiritual "Motherless Child" for a darker, more soulful approach to the answering machine ditty.

c. 2010

Your call has missed me but I want you to know (x3)

I want to get back to you (x2)

That tune had but a brief jaunt, six months maybe, when inspiration struck again. The following tune reigned for nearly a year, until just today.

c. 2011

Well I've missed, I've missed your call,

But I don't want to miss it all,

If you'll just tell me why,

I'll call back, yeah I'll give you a try-y-y.

And finally, my crowning achievement, the "Please Call Me Back Blues". Written in loving appreciation for the creative freedom childhood allows, and the stubbornness with which I receive societal conventions of professionalism.

c. 2011

Hello, it's Melody,

Why have you called on me?

Tell me your name and news,

Sing me the, "Please Call Me Back Blues."

Cheers!

Melody

Papa, You Know It's Right

I've recently experienced a surge in musical inspiration. It's incredible what a little momentum can do. After trying very hard to write a song that didn't turn out so well, this one simply came to me, and I'm confident that it's my best so far. 

One morning I was getting ready for school, half-listening to a Bessie Smith record. All the way to school I had this one misremembered line stuck in my head, "Papa, you know it's right." By lunchtime it was driving me insane, singing one line over and over again in my head, so I made a whole song out of it.

The lyrics feel a bit foolish now; when I wrote it, nearly a month ago, I had recently started seeing someone who I was very excited about. But as it turns out, Papa, it wasn't right.

Enjoy!

Melody

DUBL HANDI

My double-handed DUBL HANDI is doubly handy.

When I started getting involved in the folk music scene, I came equipped only with my voice. But, oh! I wanted more. So I built this baby. And oh how I love my DUBL HANDI.

Playing washboard is fun and easy (as far as instruments go); a real crowd pleaser. And if jamming is your scene, a roomful of strings always appreciates a little percussion.

Unlike most instruments, your washboard is your own creation. It doesn't come pre-assembled. 

Antique washboards are a-plenty on Ebay; I bought mine for a measly $10. The smaller lingerie/travel size boards, like my DUBL HANDI, make for a more easily portable instrument and a daintier style, but the larger boards are ideal for someone who wants all the bells and whistles (literally).

I made a neck strap with just some cotton string and a couple screw eyes.

 

If you want a shorter strap, you may need to attach a clip on one end so you can get in and out of it. I've also seen outfits with two shoulder straps, especially on bigger, more extensive boards. In fact, some people don't use straps at all and play it across their lap or between their legs. There's no one right way; it's all about building an instrument that fits your own needs.

I use thimbles on my fingers for playing, some people use finger picks, ribs, brushes, you name it, someone's tried it! If you opt for thimbles, be sure they fit nice and snug on each finger. You don't want them flying off as you play! Bring a thimble with you when you're shopping for bells so that you can evaluate their timbre before purchasing. They don't even need to be actual bells; they can be anything you like the sound of: tin cans, metal cups, cymbals, pots and pans, etc. As for how to attach them, every item is different, and most need a little finagling. If your board is an antique, just be gentle, so as not to split the wood.

Now you play! Start out by simply finding the basic rhythm within a tune; don't try anything fancy until you feel confident with the basics. The washboard is quite loud and can be abrasive if played poorly. Especially if you're playing with a small group, keep it light. The best way to learn is by sitting in with a group and just playing. I've found practicing by myself or with recorded music to be relatively fruitless, but by all means, try it. If you're in Brooklyn, check out the jams at Sunny's in Red Hook, the Brooklyn Rod and Gun Club in Williamsburg, the Folk Society's events in various locations, or discover your own! If you're elsewhere, find your local folk society for ideas.

Now for some of my favorite washboard digs...

Old:

And new:

Happy tappin'!

Melody

Workin' Woman Blues

It's been a long month, but alas the clouds are finally clearing and I have a few moments to spare for my dear blog.

I've been a very busy beaver.

I spent nine of my April days up at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (MASS MoCA) with my nose to the grindstone: cleaning, repairing, and breaking down Petah Coyne's retrospective, Everything That Rises Must Converge. One might think that working eight consecutive ten-and-a-half hour days wouldn't be much fun, nor a very conducive environment for creativity, but my time in North Adams was really quite wonderful.

First, it might be noted that cleaning these sculptures is extremely tedious work that really requires audially stimulating accompaniment for the retention of one's sanity. So, after a few days, after I'd finished all the podcasts I'd had enough forethought to upload, I ended up listening through my entire collection of early blues, probably around twenty hours worth of music. After about 15 hours I thought to myself, "Look at me, I'm working like a dog, doing menial labor for long hours and little pay. I could write my own God-damned blues."

So I did. This is what came out:

Workin' Woman Blues

I rise, oh when the sun comes up I rise, (x2)

I work all dog-gone day and I don't get home til late at night.

All day, all day I work my fingers to the bone, (x2)

I should make me plenty money, but I just can't seem to make it on my own.

I tell the boss man, "I got talent like you never know," (x2)

Still you keep me all day cleanin' and them wages, man, they keepin' me poor.

Hey man, I got a life and I wanna live it now, (x2)

But them bills is like a prison, I just got to make it out some how.

Every night I gots to peel my feet out from my shoes, (x2)

And I sleep like a rock, 'cause I got them hard workin' woman blues.

And thanks to the fine nightlife offerings of North Adams, Mass, I performed it the following two nights at a couple of local open mic's. Many thanks to the great people at Key West for recording my set.

Workin' Woman Blues

You can find my full set from that evening on my music page.

Cheers!

Melody

Sing Out!

I wasn't going to post this just yet, but I've got ants in my pants and a full week of unrelenting busy-ness to look forward to. So I shot a couple low quality videos of solo songs I've been working on, just to give you a taste. I'm hoping to get some better quality audio recordings done soon.

First, I have some older recordings from the Good Coffeehouse on October 29th, 2010, where my dad, Ralph Litwin, invited me to the stage and I played these three songs:

CC Rider

St. James Infirmary

Long Black Veil

Next, we have a couple new songs I've been working on that I shot in one go last night:

Sugar in My Bowl

 

Down on Me

 

I hope you enjoy them!

Cheers,

Melody