Glastonbury Trip, Day 2: Arrival in Exeter

Day 2 - 21 June - started on the airplane. The flight was about 6.5 hours. We watched the movie "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot" which contained a quote that may become my go-to phrase for the rest of this week: "You embrace the suck. You move forward."

Neither Jim nor I slept much on the plane, but I WAS able to confirm that Turin Brakes' album "Ether Song" still sends me off to slumberland.

We arrived at London Heathrow around 9 am. The long queue to border control went quicker than expected, and when we got to the agent, and he asked us what we were doing in the UK, I blurted out proudly: "We're going to the Glastonbury Festival!!"

His retort was priceless: "I was just reading about it this week. I read it's where middle-aged people go to get wasted."

I told him we were well past middle age!

We carried our tent and sleeping bags, two backpacks, a carry-on, and a duty-free bottle of rum through too many corridors of Heathrow to the express train to London. By the time we got to Paddington Station, we were exhausted and ready to be done with the day, but it was still morning. We grabbed a couple Cornish pasties for breakfast and then boarded the train to Exeter.

We arrived in Exeter at 2 pm, walked our luggage to Andy and Caroline's house for the anxiously awaited reunion with our friends and the real start of our Glasto adventure.

We checked the weather, we played with their cat Chui, we checked the weather, we got SIM cards for our phones, we checked the weather, we drank cider, we checked the weather, we ate dinner, we checked the weather...

Photos from today:

Getting train tickets at Heathrow:

We're exhausted on the platform:

Paddington Station:

On the train:

Finally in Exeter

And seeing Chui again:

Andy's cuppa:

And finally, the pre-Glasto necessities, the shepee (a gift from Caroline):

Fitting In and Fitting It In

My 2013 (new) Specialized Tarmac (my husband Jim referred to this
photo as "transportation upgrades" - the 2014 Outback replaced
my 1999 Rav4 totaled when I was rear-ended last year)

I bought a new bike. Not because I needed one (although this can always be argued). And not because I wanted one (although doesn't everyone?). No I just wanted to find out what it would be like to be a real road biker for a change. And - because I want to get faster and I found out the best way to do that.

So, then, why can I not get faster on my TT bike, you ask? I can. In fact, it appears that I already have. After riding with faster bikers from my triathlon team for several weekends, I went out for a solo 100-miler and found that I covered the distance (and course) faster than I ever have before.

So, then, why do I need a new bike, you ask? I don't. But I want to ride with the fast people and the fast people are road bikers who ride from my the bike shop every Wednesday evening. And they frown on riding in a group with a TT bike. 

So there it is. Reason enough to get a (road) bike.

There were a few conditions. The price had to be reasonable. Let's be serious - if I were going to drop several thousand dollars on a bike, I would be looking to replace my racing bike, the P3 (which I love, so that was not an option). And I wanted to buy it from my team sponsor, Spin Bike Shop. Although the staff at Spin have been known to find the right frame and build your bike of ANY brand, they primarily sell Specialized, BMC, and Ridley, and if I wanted to get a bike right away, I would probably have to settle on one of those.

Knowing I wanted to keep the cost down as this would be my second bike and I would probably never actually race on it, we focused on finding the right Specialized frame. We started by looking at women's-specific versions of the most popular bikes. I rode a couple aluminum frames to start, but then was blown away by a 2013 Tarmac Sport - one of their unisex carbon frames with SRAM components. I had ridden - and loved - SRAMs once in the past, on a Felt TT bike I rented while at a business conference in San Diego. Sometimes it seems almost cosmically predetermined when you find the bike you will eventually own (as it also seems with cars, houses, pets, and, yes, even spouses). At first, I wasn't too jazzed about the color (let's be real), but upon riding it, we bonded instantly and that's pretty much the end of the story. Except this: because it was last year's model, I got a killer deal on it.

My new bike and I went for a maiden voyage in Toronto this weekend - which brings me to my second point. When training for endurance events, the hardest thing to do is break training for a weekend away, but if there's one thing worth doing that for... it's music. One of my favorite UK bands - Elbow - scheduled their 2014 US Tour without a single date within a 300-mile radius of Cleveland. My only hope was a driveable weekend gig - and we got one in Toronto this past Saturday.

Getting a long ride or run was not possible without severe sleep deprivation, so I settled for a medium-distance ride (on the new bike) and a relatively short run the day after the concert. I love being able to get out in the early morning and explore when I'm in a different city, and this time, it was a rare treat to be in a country comfortable with and welcoming to cyclists. There was a wide paved path along the Lake Ontario waterfront supporting everyone: bikers, runners, rollerbladers, etc., and when I was riding in traffic, not once did an angry driver yell or beep at me - surprisingly, even in a construction zone.

The only negative thing was the weather. Warmth seems to be at a premium this year in the midwestern and northeastern parts of the U.S. But thankfully - and because we're getting used to it - I brought warmer clothes and gloves (event though I kept taking them off to snap photos). Here are some photos from my bike ride and run in Toronto.

And for those who've not heard of Elbow - well, even for those who have - here's a video I took of the song "The Birds" that might explain why we were (and are) willing to drive five (or more) hours to see them live. I'm still not mentally recovered from it: 

The Rain is not Forever (Saved Again by Music)

Singer/songwriter Mark Dignam
at the Barking Spider Tavern

Once again, I shift gears to write about music. And once again, where I usually discuss running, swimming, biking, and less frequently, visual art and technology, writing about music will be very uncomfortable. It's not necessarily something want to do, but today, it's something I am inspired to do.

You may already know through social media that I've been muddling through a really bad year. A hamstring injury continues to threaten (and potentially end) my ability to train and compete in a sport that I not only love but one to which I've dedicated many many years. And in disaster-magnet fashion, a few weeks ago I was in a car accident. I was rear-ended by another driver, my 14-year-old car was totaled, I suffered additional injuries, and my emotional well-being, already hanging by a thread, was further pushed to the limit by being given only three days of a rental vehicle by the other driver's insurance company. Stressed out with new aches and pains, frantically searching for a new (or used) car or come up with alternate work transportation, I found myself crying a lot and drawing for mental relief (having lost the stress-reducing factor of running that I've so relied on in the past).

So what does this have to do with music, you ask? Well, although it shouldn't happen this way, last night I had to be reminded of one of the great uplifting, anxiety-relieving things in this world - something I can get lost in that gives me hope and makes me want to get up the next day - something that gives me an appreciation of beauty and good in the world. That thing is music.

The musician is Dublin-born, Pittsburg-based Mark Dignam. The first time I heard him was in 2010 supporting the Swell Season at The House of Blues in Cleveland. He has a storied history having grown up busking on the streets of Dublin with the likes of Glen Hansard. And like Hansard, he truly embodies the spirit of the singer-songwriter. If you want to know more, Google him like I did the first time I heard his music. I watched every video I could find... the more I found, the more I wanted to kick myself for not having heard of him earlier than 2010 (seriously, it was embarrassing). But the most amazing thing about Mark Dignam is that he IS his music. When he performs, it seems like every molecule of his body is belting out the song. (Note: I stole this description from my friend Andy - an artist and occasional musician - who seems to have made it his mission to turn me onto good music. In the past, he's described some of his favorite musicians in this way - they "are their music.")

Mark Dignam is one of those musicians. Watching and listening to him, I can't imagine he could ever have done anything else with his life. It's an all-incompassing talent that I would proverbially give an arm and a leg to have (especially in my art). It's a talent that rarely sees the light of day in this world - a world in which we have American Idols crammed down our throats and are force-fed monotonous pop "music" via uninspired corporate-owned radio stations.

The only thing about it that makes me sad is that Jim and I were two of only about ten people there to witness Mark's performance in Cleveland, a city that claims to have great cultural institutions. It would have been easy to pack the place - a small bar called the Barking Spider - because it was a free gig right smack in the middle of a big university (Case Western Reserve). Unfortunately (in fact, it was a damn shame) only a few people were there to see it. A very lucky few, but in the end, only a few.

I am sure Mark Dignam made fans out of everyone sitting in the audience last night. One customer - engaged in conversation with him when we arrived - had no idea he spent the better half of his time at the bar talking to the performer. Having to leave half way through the set, the still-shocked new fan walked up mid-gig and asked to buy Mark's one CD. (Note that upon finding out he brought only one CD to Cleveland, this was the one I had set my heart on leaving with.) My point is, it's hard not to be blown away seeing Mark Dignam live. And if you didn't already know about it, he will introduce you to the catharsis of the sing-along. I don't know about you, but it's hugely fun (and stress-busting) singing out loud with (not quite) a roomful of people.

As we did last night. And hopefully will again. And again.

So, because I sometimes make it my mission to turn people on to good music, I have to share some of it. The title of this post is a line from this, one of his more well-known songs, "Stormy Summer" (since I had a pretty bad summer, hearing this live was my personal catharsis). Here's the video I took of it (with his permission):



And here's another song from last night - this one is called "Build":

We ARE Here

Turin Brakes' Olly Knights
16 September 2013

Every once in a while, I have to stop writing about my training and racing to write about my favorite musicians, Turin Brakes. It's not something I WANT to do, it's something I HAVE to do. Their music affects me in a way that it has become impossible for someone to know me and to NOT know about Turin Brakes.

Yes, I understand that music is subjective. My musical taste is not necessarily the same as yours. I get it. But I'm passionate about the music I like (just like I am about triathlon). And isn't that what's great about art? If you don't like it, you don't have to listen to it (or look at it).

What I DO have a problem with is the music "industry," and how we are force-fed music through all channels - radio, tv, internet - and told what is good and what is not good based on some kind of corporate money exchange. In the current radio climate, bands like Turin Brakes suffer greatly because they rarely get airplay - the only way to hear them is via non-traditional channels. And the non-traditional channels have become jam-packed with every single aspiring musician there is. Not that there's anything wrong with that.. it just makes it extremely hard for people to find the music that appeals to them. Thank heavens for services like Spotify in making honest attempts to suggest music similar to what you already like.

But, let me tell you about "this band I like" for one moment. I'll be brief.

Turin Brakes' Gale Paridjanian
16 September 2013

Turin Brakes released a new album on Monday (to be released in the US on October 8). It's their sixth studio album. People are saying (yes, by "people" I mean I read Twitter) it's their best album since their first - the Mercury-Prize-nominated The Optimist Lp. There's a LOT of buzz surrounding it. But my biggest fear is it will never be heard by the people who need to hear it in THIS country. If it makes it to the airwaves, it will be in two places: public radio stations KCRW in Santa Monica and WXPN in Philadelphia. And that's a BIG "if." I am almost positive it won't be heard on my favorite local FM public radio station, The Summit, 91.3 in Akron - or in other local markets --thus banning it to oblivion in the U.S.

So, I'm here to tell you about it.

The album is called "We Were Here." In the words and music, I hear a group of musicians saying to us exactly that: We. Were. Here. We made this. This is US. This is our expression that we offer up to music history in hopes that someone will take notice. It's downright heart-wrenching to hear singer Olly Knights actually sing that phrase in more than one song on the album - especially in the song "No Mercy," one of the most melancholy songs he has ever written.

But, don't get me wrong - Turin Brakes is not a melancholy band. They're full of life, and full of ideas - both musical and visual, and I, for one, never get tired of it. My husband Jim and I have attended many concerts of popular-in-the-UK-but-relatively-unknown-in-the-States bands like Elbow, Travis, and Athlete. We've had the opportunity to meet many of them after gigs -- and, like a broken record, I usually mention Turin Brakes. Wouldn't you know - most of them have the utmost respect for Turin Brakes, using terms like "massive" and "epic." No, I'm not making this up. I've heard it from their own mouths. Turin Brakes is a band that OTHER bands talk about. And I think it has to do with recognition of sheer talent. These guys have it. They deserve to be heard by a wider audience. (Listen to We Were Here online - the whole album is streaming at Paste Magazine.)

I've been lucky to have had the opportunity to see and hear Turin Brakes play on many occasions, both here and in the UK. And, as karma would have it, they played an exclusive gig showcasing the new songs the day after I raced in the London ITU World Championship. Jim and I were also extremely fortunate (and grateful) to have been invited to attend. That night, duo Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian were accompanied by their long-time collaborators, drummer Rob Allum and bassist Eddie Myer. I took some videos just for myself to remember it by, but I wanted to share a couple of them with you - hopefully you will find something you like about them too. (Forgive my crappy video-taping.. there were professionals taping that night also, so my little Panasonic is embarrassing compared to the footage they got - you can see it at http://www.dailymotion.com/thehospitalclub#video=x14w7r7).

The first one is a showcase of guitarist Gale Paridjanian's "massive" (or is it "epic"?) slide guitar, reminiscent of Pink Floyd - it's called "Blindsided Again":



And this is the song "Stop the World" and it has a really hilarious intro about where the song came from:



Thanks for listening. Or reading.

Turin Brakes and "Outbursts" - Can't Hold it in Any Longer

I'm going to switch gears from writing about training to talk about one of my other passions - MUSIC. To know me is to know how music is a huge part of my life. And I'm lucky to share my love of music with my husband Jim -- although our sonic tastes sometimes diverge, we have mutual appreciation of similar genres and we can depend on one another for support in road tripping it to concerts whenever possible.

To know me is also to know about my passion for UK musicians Turin Brakes. Calling me a "fan" doesn't even begin to describe it. Thus, I fear that writing a review of their new album, "Outbursts," will come across as just another gushing fanatic doing her thing. But I'm going to do it anyway and include a little history so that maybe one of my readers will consider taking a listen when they're perusing the shelves (or web pages) in a search of new music.

To me, Turin Brakes defies simple classification. Some people call them folk. Some call them pop. Some say rock or alt-rock. I say: stop and listen. Listen to the pain-inducing slide guitar and unique guitar picking. Listen to the spine-tingling harmonies... and that VOICE. Then, tell me this isn't some kind of singular undefinable genre. Oh, there are critics. I'll never forget reading a review of their epic song "Long Distance" in which it was described as sounding like two people arguing in a thunderstorm. It was obvious that the reviewer was grasping at the genius of the song and describing it as a negative thing.

My first contact with Turin Brakes was in 2002 when they supported David Gray in Newcastle, England. My life was forever changed with the first note of opener "Blue Hour." By the end of their set, I was having trouble breathing and could no longer stand from weakness in my knees. Never before had I experienced as strong an emotional or physical reaction to music. And to this day, their album "Ether Song" still has the power to eliminate anxiety for me. It was my constant companion in mid-2003 during endless nights of pain while recovering from being hit by a truck on my bike.

"Outbursts," Turin Brakes' fifth studio album, comes as an indie release on Cooking Vinyl. Many reviews are saying it's a return to what they do best, i.e., what they did on their first album, "The Optimist LP," and what my good friend Andy describes as the "intimacy of two guys playing guitars in a room." Although I "get" what they mean, I don't think Turin Brakes ever lost what made their music so unique and beautiful. As all great bands do, Turin Brakes grew and progressed and explored their sound in each subsequent album. And what I believe they've come 'round to is how to create their own particular brand of intimacy in their music -- I think that's what makes their sound what it is and how people best identify with it.

The first time I heard "Outbursts," I had a singular thought -- every song sounds like a movie soundtrack - not a song "from" a soundtrack, but the actual soundtrack itself. In my mind's eye, I could even see a flickering film reel for each of the 12 little standalone movies. This doesn't surprise me, as I remember reading that the origin of Turin Brakes was with singer Olly Knights, a film school student, enlisting childhood friend and fellow musician, Gale Paridjanian, to collaborate on a film. Perhaps another manifestation of their recent "back to basics" approach?

As I listened to "Outbursts" many more times, I came to realize that this album is a statement of maturity in finding that natural songwriting state -- the one that (probably) accidentally thrust them into the limelight all those years ago. As I already mentioned, with this album, they recreate the intimacy and immediacy of two guys with guitars -- with amazing voices and unique harmonies. Each song has a personality and style all its own, and none of them go in an expected direction. Yet, every song is typical "Turin Brakes" -- it sounds like an oxymoron, but I can't come up with another way to describe it. The first song, "Sea Change," and last, "Outbursts," are like bookends to the TB sound -- the first is a virtuoso musical piece, the other, a light calm-inducing love song. It's a very wide range and yet still "theirs."

I won't bore people with a song-by-song exploration of the album, but I'll give a few observations. "Rocket Song" continues the ever-present theme in their music of the fascination with flight. The song truly "feels" like a rocket launch. There's also that age-old thing about their lyrics -- where "you think you know what he's talking about... but not really." "Outbursts" contains great Turin Brakes lyrics that are just on the edge of comprehendible comfort. I've also noticed that they have embraced sweeping apocalyptic themes on this album, evident in songs "Sea Change" and "Embryos" -- and (obviously) "Apocolips." At the moment, my personal favorite is "Radio Silence" -- I have no explanation as to why, it just is. But, as is noted in "Will Power," "this will change." And with Turin Brakes, THAT is something we can be sure of -- and, to my delight, it will always sound just like Turin Brakes.

For more, please check out Turin Brakes web site. And here are some videos I took at a 2009 Turin Brakes gig in London.

New Single, Sea Change and what I like to call the "claymation evolution video":

Sea Change - ascent of man from Turin Brakes on Vimeo.

A Band Called Travis

Often I am moved to write a blog about a concert. Usually, I think twice about it then leave the reviewing up to the reviewers who "know" something. Many people think all I do is go to concerts. In actuality, it only looks that way because my passion for music makes me seek it out in faraway places. My travels often involve a band called Turin Brakes. To know me is to know how I feel about their music but I rarely write about it because words are not adequate -- when I try to write how much their music moves me, it sounds silly and gushing and I never publish it.

But today I am moved enough to attempt to write about another band -- a band that, much to my surprise and dismay, cannot sell out a small venue in Cleveland yet had to book six consecutive nights at Joe's Pub in NYC because of sell-outs. The band is Travis and they're from Scotland. In 2001, they appeared poised to become one of the biggest bands in the world. That was B.C. (Before Coldplay). It's an enigma to me as to why they didn't become biggest band in the world. It certainly wasn't for lack of talent.

I first heard Travis while driving home from work three jobs ago. In the year 2000. Their UK hit, "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?" brought me to tears when it was played on 91.3 The Summit, a station out of Akron that actually plays new music (not the norm in Northeast Ohio). The next day, I had the album, "The Man Who," in my hand, and it took up sole residence in my CD player for months. I didn't see them live until 2001, when I started a new job and found one of my cohorts was also a Travis fan. We shared our Travis passion in a little bubble - no one outside of us and our spouses seemed interested in the Travis "craze." Well, my husband Jim still needed a little convincing. It would only take one gig. We saw Travis at the Lakewood Civic Auditorium. We may have been the oldest people there, but the young people seemed to have "got the memo" about Travis. The guy next to us (apparently on his own) asked me if I had seen them before. Upon my reply, he gave me the essential information: Travis is a very endearing live band, impossible not to love once you see them.

He was right. Even Jim knew it (and now, Jim might actually be the bigger Travis fan of the two of us). Sadly, Travis didn't come back to Cleveland until 2009. We had to go to Detroit to see them. Twice. Each time, the same thing. In a word: "endearing." Travis is a great live band for many MANY reasons -- talent, performance, energy -- and they are, perhaps, the most fun band to witness live after The Flaming Lips. (Does anyone want to argue with that first choice?) However, the most endearing thing about Travis is that, even in a large venue, you get the feeling they are in your living room. That feeling is, perhaps, created mostly by singer/guitarist Fran Healy who instantly develops a rapport with audiences by telling hilarious tales as lead-ins to songs. Sometimes they're about the song, sometimes they're about something that happened that day. The humor is partially due to his wonderful Scottish accent but mostly due to his comedic take on an everyday situation. In a venue full of people, Fran seems to be talking directly to you. Telling you jokes. Additionally, he is extremely humble and never ceases to acknowledge the talents and friendship of his bandmates.

I'm telling you this because it brings me to the unique "Travis" gig this past Wednesday at the Beachland Ballroom. It featured only half of Travis: Fran and guitarist Andy Dunlop. Andy is..., like..., um.... the heavy metal guitarist in a pop band. Unlike Travis basist Dougie Payne, who constantly acknowledges the audience by eye contact and smiles, Andy rarely interacts. But don't get me wrong, he puts on one hell of a show at Travis gigs. I am mesmerized by his effortless guitar playing -- it's as if the guitar is an extension of who he is -- another limb or something. The end of a Travis gig finds him soaked in sweat with audience mouths agape in disbelief at some physical feat he has just performed (such as climbing amp stacks and jumping off while not missing a note). To use a cliche, you must see it to believe it.

So back to the Beachland gig... Fran and Andy -- alone together. It was a night of storytelling and music. A chronological book of Travis songs, complete with Fran's hilarious rolling-on-the-floor-laughing anecdotes (I call them "Franecdotes"), tender moments, Scottish geography lessons and nostalgic photographs. We even got a slide show complete with technical difficulties. The music was beautiful -- Fran's voice can be heart-wrenching at times -- and we were treated to the subtleties of Andy's guitar-playing. With feedback. Afterwards, Jim and I discussed that one of Andy's great talents is the ability to control the effect of feedback. When other guitar players get feedback, it can be downright painful, but when Andy Dunlop does it, it sends shivers down your spine. At the end, they asked for requests and had a "democratic" vote on which ones to play. We managed to get one of my favorite Travis songs, Funny Thing, to cap off the night. AND we successfully converted two friends into Travis fans that night.

After the gig, Fran and Andy sold their own merch, including a bootleg CD, signed autographs and posed for pictures with every last fan. As expected, they were humble, "genuine" people, smiling and hugging and taking the time to converse. We thanked them for the years of music. They thanked US for supporting them through the years. Heck, they make it easy for us.

Here is a video and a couple of photos from the gig:

Fran Healy:

Andy Dunlop: