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Apr. 28th, 2008 @ 05:25 am (no subject)
i miss you
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Jan. 31st, 2008 @ 04:22 am (no subject)
[insert self-pitying dramatic rant here]
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Oct. 24th, 2006 @ 05:40 pm (no subject)
Yeah, motha fucka. Yeah...
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Jul. 17th, 2006 @ 01:02 am (no subject)
Erik Kleven died in a car crash last night. He was the bassist in that gig I described in my last post. I watched him play two years ago and he inspired me to take up upright bass. Everything about his playing was so effortless and beautiful. He served the music selflessly, and had the utmost respect for all the human beings around him, while playing music as well as in conversation. He had a tremendous ear for color in music, in a way unlike and far beyond any other bassist I have ever heard, with the exception of the two or three top guys in the world. I am not exaggerating to glorify him, it is the truth. He played an electric upright bass and his technique was so weird and confused me sometimes, but his sound was just so beautiful, so lush and living. His bass sounded like a male voice often in how he used vibrato and that special light touch, a very rare and special quality. And he put such joy behind the simplest basslines, never overstepping or falling back on the tired, over-used bass tricks out of the jazz idiom. Listening to Erik play with a four-person band was like listening to an orchestra composition because he would lay out sometimes and not force his voice into the music, and he would never solo beyond what he felt the music needed. In this way, the music was his in a way unlike any other bassist. I only had a few conversations with him, but he had such a full life full of experiences with bands of so many genres which took him around the world and he constanly read so many books and listened to all different types of music that he had so many nuggets of insight and wisdom. Erik was very kind to me. I felt very comfortable in his presence, the only discomfort was the result of my own dumbness in being in awe of him all the time. But he loved to play and was always happy when he had his bass near him, and that happiness maifested as the simplest type of joy in talking to me. I believe he had a great respect for simplicity--his music certainly reflected that. He was so happy playing the simplest lines and so happy being a part of a greater music... few are like that. He personified the playful spirit, always joyful and repectful while maintaining that precious simplicity which is so easy to lose given all the devices at an artist of his caliber's disposal. In fact, self-restraint was his joy since he served the music so humbly. humble is perhaps the most perfect way to describe the way I see him. His manner of being reflected that humble sweetness and that playfulness, since he had a great wit and was so positive. Apparently he lived alone and his 19 year old son and ex-wife lived down the street. He was 56 and he had lots of cats. He was driving on highway 16, a small highway with two lanes--going in opposite directions--and no dividing barrier between them. Three women in a volvo drifted into his lane and crashed into him head-on. He had to have been killed instantly, since the sac bee was fucking insensitive enough to show a picture of his car, to broadcast the man's scene of death out in the paper when it is only the private business of those present and those close to him. But death is something we all share so why not show the world his crushed car, people like to see that shit.
Many musicians have been killed in auto accidents, bass players especially. This is not the first time someone I know will be taken. Hopefully it will be a while before I am taken, but there is a chance I will be sometime. Cant control that. I cant belive I played with him just a week ago. That gig was so special. We played together perfectly. We both served the music and each other and it was quite something. Playing with two basses is tricky and typically it is difficult to not step all over each other, but with Erik and I, it was just awesome, no problem. The artistry was so inspiring. I'm just really taking stock now of how much he meant to me and how much he inspired me. I dont even think I know how much he inspired me. He was just a goddam hip musician, especially since he would probably react to my saying that in the most humble way.
No need to leave condolences. I hardly knew the man, really. I saw him only a few times the past two years, but at very crucial times always and at his best moments playing with my mentor Adam. Those few times were enough to change a lot for me. But I am not sad. Life goes on and death is a natural part of life, or some stuff that the Buddhists would say. Take my word that I am fine and I wrote this entry as a memory to the man and bassist, not because I need pity. He was great and impacted me in the most positive way. I remember now how the sensitive way he played one of Adam's basslines two years ago made me cry. True to Erik's spirit, I would like to take myself out of the way and let Erik shine without contaminating his legacy and genuine impact on me with a lot of davidnoise.
Rest in peace, friend. You were beautiful. You are free of body and mind now. In whatever form you are, I am sure you are still serving selflessly a greater force. My heart smiles remembering you.
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Jul. 8th, 2006 @ 02:38 pm come see david play music
tonight at 7:00 pm at John Natsoula's art gallery across the street from Borders. I'll be sitting in on Adam Jenkins' band's gig. There should be lots of professionals from around this area playing. We'll probably do a lot of messing around... it will be really "avante-garde," which must be french for "crazy as fuck loud!" There will be two basses(me and my hero, a man named Eric) and a bunch of other people. I dunno what it will sound like. It's free so come and chech it out if you want. I think we'll be on the roof. Peace.
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Jun. 22nd, 2006 @ 12:29 am (no subject)
i just reread a lot of my early lj posts. ive changed so much. but also am still the same on many levels.
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Jun. 21st, 2006 @ 11:51 pm (no subject)
Current Music: this one line repeated over and over in my head
life has gotten better and better through these past few years. now, i never have to take a physics class again. indeed, better and better... the pattern continues. i thought about the last half hour of grad night and how that combination of people will never be together again. but i dont feel sentimentally attached to that group at all. yeah, i love my friends--duh-- but i will not miss high school at all. yeah i will miss friends--duh--but i will not miss walking through the halls at DHS. there may be times in the future when i am really distant from high school when i look back and think "those were the days, *sigh*" but then i really dont think so. maybe at the start of freshman year i'll be really lonely and stressed and wish i had the security of dhs, but dhs will--like all memories--lose potency with time. and, anyways, things are just starting to turn good. and bad. and whatever. but i know that every year ends. in four more years it will be another graduation. then some kind of life. and we'll all be dead before we know it. that is the temporary nature of everything. so farewell, hello; hello, farewell. So it goes.

i do know that looking back on people's senior portraits and sr. ball pics will probably make me so happy later though. sr. ball was a gigantic picasso painting created by god, just as i said it would be. wow. a picture really can be worth a thousand words. shit.

i got my wisdom teeth out. right now i look like frankenstein... square jaw and all. baskin robbins milkshake, i love you.
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Jun. 21st, 2006 @ 06:04 pm (no subject)
If you can, come see me play tonight at Pasta? restaurant sometime between 7 and 9 pm. THe gig should be killer, because we have three guests: Sean Conte--DHS alumnus-- on tenor, Jesse [last name], an amazing sax player from the bay area also on tenor, and 9th grade prodigy Colin McDaniel on drums. Plus me and Morgan. It doesn't get too much cooler than that. It really doesn't. Plus we need for lots of people to come because the owner is a dickwad and a cheapskate. If peple come to see us, we might actually get paid! Peace.
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May. 27th, 2006 @ 09:34 pm (no subject)
Current Mood: satisfiedsatisfied
Berklee gave me a half tuition scholarship :-)
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May. 17th, 2006 @ 11:32 pm I've been reading a lot of Rumi
I am an organized mess.

Rays of sunlight shine through a prism
And all about scatter a rainbow
Just as words--a song
Enters the ear and the heart beats faster
And the eyes shine rainbows, beams of life intense grow

People dance and throw pebbles in a creek...

A music enters the bosom and brings shameless joy to be alive
Just as a mother bird feeds her babies and they go crazy to feel the life inside
Gotta get food from Mommy, yes! yes! Mommy now!
Flap their rediculous twig wings and chirp and toss eachother aside

Just as people, any people, toss stones in a running creek...

A blind man walks down the street and we pity him for we think we can see,
Yet, fools, we are just as blind as he
What land will fall beneath the next blind step
Is not an element within our grasp; all is uncertainty

An ant scurries along a path
It questions not the path but whether or not it will be crushed or eaten along the way
We watch our bodies grow up,
And are careful to shave off unattractive hair
HA! Fools, we're gonna be eaten or crushed anyway

So let's go throw pepples in the pond and dance around on the sand...

A small kitten alone and frightened
Meows frantically for another to keep it company...
It knows not the world, but only wants that gentle motherly touch...
A widow buys a new pet kitten and they nap together in the afternoon...
Neither she nor the kitten need to cry anymore

And everyone's gotta chuck that stone into that pond eventually, 'cause we know we can't hold on to it forever...

One blind eye claims beautiful is the day
Another claims oh woe is me
Blah blah blappy blippity bleep
Both are right and both are wrong,
The sunshine is white: it holds within it every color

Do I make the rhymes or do the rhymes make me?
Prestigious are the ones who pretend that they make the rhymes
Is the language mine or am I the languge?
Whoop-dee-doo are the ones who claim they own the secret of laguage and expression
Silly... blind and scurrying like the ant, we try so hard to control our words
Yet the word itself is blind as a bat

Let us throw pebbles and watch with bated breath as they land in a pond...

The pebble crashes and water ripples outward
A tear falls and the liquid in the heart churns of longing
Laughter ripples through the air and the music of the beautiful happy-voice shines rainbows on the mind
She dances and laughs and is so alive...
We each laugh and throw our pebble, take another step, and are happy not to be eaten or crushed
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