Rapture and Sleep

It is almost midnight and I should be in bed -- but the hardest battle of the day awaits me: what do I listen to in bed? It is meditation for me -- it is freedom -- and it is a freaking hard decision.

Do I listen to something new someone sent me? If I hate it, I will lie awake plotting my revenge on the artist, the person who recommended them to me and that entire gender of music. Jewel’s music usually puts me to sleep so you’d think her lullaby CD would be perfect -- nope. Why? Yodeling. My inner child now needs therapy. Yet I just requested her latest CD AND her country CD from my library. I liked her first CD (Pieces of You) from bloody 1994 -- I am an optimist. Maybe her next one won’t suck.

Tonight I must choose wiser. Jill Sobule? I know her and she doesn't yodel. Good start. Before I met her, she seemed like a friend. She is now one of my favorite bipeds and my favorite songwriter. Pete Townsend? There is something so warm, yet unsentimental about his work, solo and with the Who that shines more and more in my mind. George Gershwin? His sense of longing reflects my own restlessness. Mozart? He is deceptively simple and full of wit. You mutter that he didn't laugh like he does in the movie Amadeus -- not really. You haven’t really listened to his music, it is full of laughter. Brian Wilson will make me cry and smile. Debussy will make me dream. Rodgers and Hart will make me laugh at the crap we do for love. Sinatra in the wee small hours of the morning is a lonely yet lovely walk.

You see my problem -- I am in love with so much music and a little fickle. I am a stalker fan of a hundred composers with new ones being added all the time. My collection is full of strange lights and I don’t know which one to fly to tonight. Which emotional world do I fuse with my own dreams and find the rapture that will quiet my over active mind? I may never get to bed at this rate.

Coffee with Jill Sobule

Sarah, Underdog and Jilly Sue

My friend, Underdog Victorious, just returned from New York City -- she had the time of her life. (And thank you again Tami for making it possible.) Underdog had coffee with the Strange Light Cafe's patron saint, Jill Sobule. Earlier, Underdog was fed pineapple by punk cabaret artist Amanda Palmer. All the gory details in the near future. New York and Boston will never be the same -- and neither will Underdog Victorious.

.

.

Cool paintings

Underdog, AFP -- and jazz hands

Song by Song by Jill Sobule

The story behind 34 of Jill’s songs as told by Jill herself.





Bear Song


Bitter


Bobby Gentry


Empty Glass


Everybody's Queer


Good Life


Heroes


I Kissed a Girl


Jesus Was a Dreidel Spinner


Karen by Night


League of Failures


Letting Go of God


Little Guy


Lucy at the Gym


Mexican Pharmacy


Mexican Wrestler


Mom


The Most Miserable Girl in the World


Nothing to Prove


October in Paris


Palm Springs


Rapture


Rupert


Saddest Day of the Year


San Francisco


St. Francis


Soldiers of Christ


Spiderman


Sweetheart


That Hat


Underachiever


Under the Discoball


Wendell Lee


While You Were Sleeping




Buy Jill’s Music at her Store

"I Kissed a Girl" by Jill Sobule

Part 1. What was the origin of "I Kissed a Girl"?

Jill Sobule: "Okay...I don't think I've ever told this story. I've been asked a zillion times and have always given a bullshit...so. I was actually seeing this boy, who was in a band. And he went on tour. He came home and admitted to me, in tears, that he had kissed another girl. And I didn't think that we were dating, like going steady...so I wasn't upset. But I admitted to him that, well, I did too. It ended up being a little more serious.

"And it was just a goofy little story and I went to write songs with my friend Robin. I told him the story and we wrote it in 5 minutes. And I didn't actually think it would be on my record. Or that we would hire Fabio to do a video. Oh, my God, that's a whole other story...

"So that was the origin. And I wanted to write a song about a first kiss from an adult point of view. Were as my first kiss with a boy...it was, what? In sixth grade, Bobby Conner. It was horrible, like a fish. With a girl it was with someone named Ivanda Hooper.

Julia Sweeney: "Did you want to give her home address too?!"

Jill Sobule: "I don't know where she is. I tried Googling her. I don't think I've ever said... Oh, I've never outed that one too! I've just had a lot to drink."

--AfterEllen.com (All Access Pass): Jill Sobule and Julia Sweeney May 07 08


"It was sometimes irritating to be 'the kissed a girl girl.' Or rather, that that was, sometimes, the only thing that people knew about me. However, I am proud of it. It was the first, I think, blatant 'queer' song to make the top 40. Of course now Katy Perry has taken the title and made it her own. More power to her, however I will say, hers' is more of a 'girls gone wild' thing. The intent of "the Classic" (someone referred to my song as that) was hopefully more to empower and explore one's sexuality as more than just a fun thing to turn on your boyfriend. That said, I still think, it's great that a song like that can piss off Focus on the Family, and still be on the radio..."

"When 'I Kissed a Girl' came out (1995), it was a tough call on talking about my sexuality. I wanted to talk about all the songs, but all anyone wanted to talk about was 'so, what are you?' I didn't want to be an exclusive queer artist-only to play the 'womyn festivals.' At the same time, the idea of the song was to celebrate the joy of that first same-sex kiss and I did not want to underplay that. Since then, I have developed a diverse fan-base with a good sized gay following. And, I did play that...Womyn's festival. The community is very important to me. I am part of the family."

--Interview "She Kissed a Girl Way Before Katy Perry" from the blog "From the Horse's Mouth", Caty Simon, May 10, 2009


Part 2. Kissed a Girl -- yep, that was me.

Ah, the curse of the "novelty" song. It's my cross to bear, but it is also the thing that got me noticed. Plus I made a couple of bucks …well, not as much as you would think. Anyway, it was one of those songs that I wrote on a lark with my friend Robin Eaton. I never thought that it would actually be on a CD, nor thought in my wildest dreams that it would be an MTV hit. Or that I would be branded forever as "the Kissed a Girl girl."

Instead of being thought of as the serious artful singer-songwriter that I aspired to be, I was asked in Howard Stern-like interviews, "did you really kiss her?" "So, you don't like the penis?" My favorite, that I got all the time, was, "Hey Jill, you and me have something in common... we both kissed a girl! Ha ha ha..." What an idiot.I started to resent the song. When asked to play it, I would, but with a bit of an eye roll. Oh, I could go on forever, but in the last couple of years I have started to embrace my one hit wonder hit (actually I had two hits, according to VH1). First of all, what is the shame of having "only one" hit? How many of you would love to even play the cowbell on one jingle? ...Well, I would play cowbell on anything anyone asked me.And, in the last few years, I have started to embrace and have pride in my Kissed a Girl-ness. I mean, what other song includes the words "hairy behemoth"? Plus, I think it was the first song on the charts to deal with queer stuff -- not counting YMCA.
.


It was way before the Ellen kiss on TV and The L Word. As innocent now as it seems (a kiss), it was scandalous in 1996. I was banned on many stations, especially in the Bible Belt. In fact one station in Nashville had a disclaimer before it played, so parents, I guess, could put their hands over their kids' ears.I am so happy when someone comes up to me and says that the song made a difference, as they were young, gay, and feeling depressed in some small town in Alabama.At one show, a big boned gal came up to me and said that when she was in the Marines, they would hum a couple of bars of the song to see who was gay or not. Don't ask, don't tell, but hum. I guess I really was "supporting our troops."So, I am Jill, and I am the Kissed a Girl girl.Side note: I always think how funny it is that the Village People's YMCA has become such a universal anthem -- and with choreography. Doesn't everyone know it's about anonymous queer sex at a gym in Chelsea?-- Jill Sobule and the Provocateurs (Yahoo Music Blog) Nov. 29, 2007
.
.




Part 3. My "Feud" with Katy Perry"
.

"how DARE YOU. Calling Katy Perry a slut. srs. I'm so pissed at you right now. So are the rest of her fans. why did you do that?!"

"Hi gramma.. I mean Jill fuck face. You should probably get over yourself.. Your 1995 song. I kissed a girl is terrible"

I woke up last Tuesday, and went straight to the computer. I had an interesting idea for a song -- that now I forget. First thing I noticed was my Twitter was filled with, what appeared to be, hate mail from about 30 very upset Katy Perry fangirls. I was confused. Then, I got email messages from relatives and friends informing me that I was in Perez Hilton and The Sun. Why would I be in the tabloids? I'm not that fancy. And, from what they said -- I still have yet to visit those particular sites -- I was portrayed as this angry bitter jealous "gramma" starved for publicity.

It all started with an interview I did for one of my new favorite blog sites: Therumpus.net -- a semi-obscure but hopefully growing arts and cultural website. It was one of the more interesting interviews I have ever done, as I was actually asked, engaging questions for a change. However, the interviewer had to ask the annoying yet inevitable "What did I think of the Katy Perry version of "I Kissed a Girl?"

I thought maybe this time I would have fun with it and goof on what many of my fans were hoping to hear over the last year. I prefaced my reply with a wink, and then rambled on with a string of over the top dumb-ass profanities, purposely out of character and completely in jest.
There was no problem with The Rumpus readers, but then a few weeks later the quote was picked up in the tabloids, out of context, with no link to the original interview, and without that -- hard to sometimes see in print -- wink. My friend Ken, a publicist, said, " I saw the grin behind your words, but not everyone knows you, Jill" My use of the phrase, "fucking little slut", by the way, would only be used... ironically.

I am sounding apologetic, which I'm not, but I have to admit the whole thing made me feel terrible for a couple of days. Who wants to be misunderstood or portrayed negatively, especially by such a beacon of light as Perez with his enormous following -- my mother reads him. And I'm not one who goes for the "all press is good press" dictum. Now I hear I will be featured in the upcoming issue of US magazine under the heading "Feud of the Week"!

But where my thin skin really showed was my reaction to the Katy Perry teen fangirls. I somehow was transferred to 7th grade, the worst year of my life. I was reminded of when mean girl Shelly Zissman spread the rumor that I was a "lezzie" at Shwader Camp. I was devastated. Okay, so maybe the rumor had some basis of truth to it, but she didn't know that at the time.
Out of curiosity, I wrote back to one of my tormenting Katy Perry fangirls -- Typhany. Most had already bored of trolling me, but Typh kept on going. I didn't ask her to stop, but instead asked if we could actually have an honest civil dialogue --unlike some of those health care town hall meetings. We did, much to her credit. She said she was just sticking up for her favorite artist. We are friends now. Facebook friends.

I will end with my final Katy Perry comments. I may be a touch cynical about the business, but I have never really been angry or had ill feelings towards Katy herself. I was actually in a small way happy to not be the "Kissed a Girl" girl anymore. That said, I hope her and her fans (god knows I don't want to piss them off anymore) are okay with the title of my brand new song, " I Kissed a Girl ...First"

Wink.

By the way (a bit of shameless self-promotion since I don't have a big machine behind me): My new record, California Years, was completely fan-funded. You can get it most places, but I like it best when it's listened to and bought on my website, JillSobule.com.
.



Video for "I Kissed a Girl"
.


Buy the CD at Jill's Store
.

Pixie Herculon – The Bear Song

There is new dance song by Pixie Herculon (she’s the new Katy Perry) that’s getting a lot of attention. Here’s a little bedtime story from your Uncle John Waters to explain everything.


John Waters:

We all have limits. I have limits. At first the "bear" community kind of surprised me. This is middle-aged, hairy, fat homosexuals that find that erotic. All gay people know about that. No straight people know about that. Bears look for "cubs" and cubs look for "otters" -- people who aren't fat or hairy but will be.
They talk about, "This is my husbear. This is my significant otter." They talk about coming out of the second closet. That's too much for me, I say, "You tell your parents that you’re a bear?"

They say, "Yes, sometimes we do!"

I thought, oh come on, your parents have finally accepted that you are gay and you come in and say, "I have something else to tell you. Sit down... I am a bear!"

"A what?"

"A bear!"

"Don't tell your parents you are a bear! That's cruel and unusual punishment!"

-- From the film “This Filthy World” (2006)

“The Bear Song” by Pixie Herculon

(Grrrrr, warning explicit lyrics, kiddies.)

Disco this mother fucker...

If I was a guy
I’d wanna be a bear
At the bearbucks in Castro
I’d be there
Two shots of espresso
Make that three
I’m big as a cabin
I’m a mighty oak tree
It I was a guy
I’d wanna to be a bear.
It I was a guy
I’d wanna be a bear

No one’d call me call me sissy
If I was still up in Juno
They’d take me for straight
In my lumber Jack shirt
And my working man boots
Not just a beard, but a completely hair suit
If I was a guy
I’d wanna be a bear
I’d wanna be a bear

I’d be your daddy
You’d be my cub
I’d wrap around you 
With a big bear hug
Well, I could be nasty
Or I could be sweet
260 pounds of raw bear meat
I wanna be a bear

If I was your bear
I would take you on a picnic
Look in my basket
You can see I got a big dick
When I kiss on you
You will get so dizzy
Check me out Boo-Boo
I’m a straight love grizzly


(Thanks to Nicole Jeppsen for helping with the lyrics.)



To buy and download click here

Here is the video

Jill Sobule and John Doe's Idea

If you're a music geek like me, you dream music. Wouldn't it have been fun to watch the Beatles record Sergeant Pepper? You know -- see them smoking dope, giggling and forcing Ringo to sing. Or have been a fly on the wall while Fleetwood Mac cut Rumours (if only to hear what the rest of the group was saying about Stevie Nicks when she was out of the room for her daily two hour twirl practice). John Doe (of the seminal LA punk band "X" -- no spitting please -- that is so 1979) and Jill Sobule (who turned heads by raising over 80,000 dollars from her fans to record and release her last record, California Years) has an innovative idea: fans who donate for a recording session -- can watch them make a record.

Jill suggest that she might try this in other cities. I'm hoping she takes the Last Train to Clarksville with Davy Jones. But then again, I spent my formative years as a screaming teenage girl.


A word from Jill:

Hello feller fans and friends,
 
Wanna make a record with me? Want to see what it’s like in the studio? Wanna be a bad-ass and brag to your friends? Well…in Los Angeles on April 11th the amazing John Doe and I are each making recordings, w/ the same band, in the same day ! !
 
Not only would you create the good vibe–helping us get a great performance-but you would have a rare look behind the scenes, experiencing the recording process first hand, in the same room with us while we record. Does that sound good?

We have a killer band, including Don Was on bass and Doug Pettibone on guitar. We’re paying for the studio & musicians by inviting fans to the session. 

This stuff ain’t cheap so please excuse the higher priced tickets. (It IS once in a lifetime though.) Here’s a link to find out more details and what you can expect.

www.stepinside.eventbrite.com

Jill

I will keep you posted -- if anyone spits or falls down whilst twirling.

ROCK! Garden

Kerry and I had babies today: Parsley, Chives, Basil, Lettuce. We plant them together after our vacation. I didn’t know gardening could be such a blast. Kerry decorated the pots and we planted the seed last week. All but the parsley have sprouted. Kerry enjoyed it so much that she bought Snap Dragon and Morning Glories. I thought I’d plant tomatoes but the store was already out. All the herbs I had just planted were sold out too. Dang. Good thing I grabbed them early. It seems I’m not the only one with a window garden. (I used to call it a pot garden -- but I got too many odd looks.) It is like World War II all over again. Everybody has a Victory Garden. I’m calling mine a “ROCK!” Garden and rename the plants. Here’s possibilities unless someone has a funnier idea. Pop finally gets to eat itself: :

Elvis Parsley (It’s still in the ground.)
Lettuce Gaga (It is a variety pack -- I don’t know what to expect.)
Jilly Sue Jalapeno (Small but mighty, like Sobule herself.)
Beatle Basil (From an octopus garden in the shade.)
Olivia Newton-Chives (I honestly love these.)
Oasis: What’s the Story Morning Glory?

I have no idea what to call the snap dragons. I refuse to call them Daryl Snap Dragons... I mean who the hell under 30 knows who Captain and Tennille are?! Kids today don’t know the horror that was “Muskrat Love”.

I am a grand cook and it will be nice to have fresh herbs again. I just made Kerry fried wanton with cream cheese filling. That went over very well. Sunday I will cook a very cool dinner after we take a walk in a local grave yard to relax. Yeah, we’re different.

And because I feel really bad about trashing the Cap and Ms. T, here is a link to their official website: www.captainandtennille.net/ index.shtml 

Jewel, Lilith Fair and the Story Behind "Bitter"

I could slip, I could fall
In that mean and awful hall
With the other jealous bitches
And the bitter grumbling men
I could sneer, I could glare
Say that life is so unfair
And the one who made it
Made it cuz her breasts were really big.

-- Bitter (Sobule/Barone)

Everyone thought that I wrote that first verse about Jewel. I honestly didn't. I really have no beef with her. She's talented, has a nice voice, and can yodel. But I do have a story.

I was at SXSW (a music industry showcase in Austin). I had just been signed to Atlantic Records and was about to play one of those horrible shows for chatty catty record company posers -- I did not have this attitude fully developed back then. Anyway, it was a double bill with an unknown female singer/songwriter also debuting on Atlantic named'¦ Jewel.

Jewel, at that time, was this cute, slightly chubby hippie girl who sang folk songs and lived in a van (that was the story). She performed before me, as I had put out a CD on another label earlier and had more of a name (which was not saying much). As she got on stage, the jaded audience maybe looked up once, and then talked through her entire set. After her 5th song, she left in tears.

I felt so bad for her, and knew exactly how she felt. I went backstage, gave her a hug, and gave her some big sisterly advice: "It wasn't you. You were great, and they are just big assholes." I thought to myself, this poor girl is going to be so eaten up by this world of broken promises and heartache (something like that).

As bad as I felt for her, I was determined to kick some ass. I opened up with my "when it's a hostile crowd" opening number, Don't Fuck With Me. It has worked opening up Paul Weller's lager-swilling fans, Don Henley's ex hippie now Republican crowd, and even did magic with the semi-goth frat boy Godsmack show. And yes, this cheap trick worked in Austin. They shut up. I knew right then and there that I was going to be Atlantic Record's new diva. "I was gonna be a star" (said in a kind of 1930's NY Broadway manager way).

Zoom'¦ 7 months later: I was playing the Lillith Fair. This was big, this was huge. Except for the fact that I was on the second stage scheduled at 4:00. And the tickets said the show started at 4:30. My audience consisted mostly of volunteers putting out the folding chairs. On the main stage at 8:00 was... yes, Jewel.

Things had not turned out the way I had imagined.

I just want to say again, and I know I am being redundant, that I am not bitter and am happy for Jewel's success. This is not a zero sum game. I was so grateful to be at Lillith. But dang, what about me? Jewel was in a cool rock van with two lounges and a satellite dish. I was in a rented Ford Probe with my friend David. Jewel was probably at the Ritz. I was in the junkie/whore motel. Most whores do not look like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

Zoom... 2 days later: Sorta bummed. I woke up with a terrible sore throat. I called the promoter, and she said there was a doctor set up in a trailer behind Stage three. As I walked in, the doctor said, "when I heard you were coming, I was so excited. I have to tell you that my two daughters adore you. They know every lyric you sing."

I was starting to already feel better. I just needed a little love. I needed to know that there were smart girls out there that appreciate good music and are not sucked in by all the crap. I needed to know that someone looked beyond I Kissed a Girl and was moved by my melodic sense and lyrical prowess. I needed someone to buy my CD. This was a sign. I could start hoping again.

As I skipped out the door, the doctor rushed out and asked if I wouldn't mind signing an autograph for his daughters. I eagerly did, while making an extra flourish on the J. As I walked out for the second time, he said, "thank you so much, Jewel."

Posted on the Lilith Fair site. A cry for help?

I don't want to get bitter.
I don't want to turn cruel.
I don't want to get old before I have to.
I don't want to get jaded
Petrified and weighted.
I don't want to get bitter like you

Like you with the darts in your eyes
You with disdain for mankind
I was charmed, now I wonder

So, I'll smile with the rest
Wishing everyone the best
And know the one who made it,
Made it cause she
Was actually pretty good



Oh, I have another little story relating to my song Bitter. Bitter was going to be the big single off my 3rd CD, Happy Town, but the label was worried that it had the word "bitch" in it (and this was way before the FCC got out of hand). They wanted me to replace "bitch" with something that Wal-Mart would be okay with. I went back in the studio and replaced the offending word with... "cunt."

I thought it was funny. They didn’t.

(Originally written by Jill Sobule for Performing Songwriter magazine Sept 2009.)

Buy at the Jill Store

Happy Town CD
Long out of print, we've rescued Jill's acclaimed 1997 album from oblivion and are offering it here for the first time in years! Plus, we're releasing the CD with its original "controversial" cover art (depicting a pill instead of test tubes). Not available in any store, this CD can only be purchased at select live shows and here on the website! Includes these fan favorites: Bitter, Happy Town, Barren Egg, Half a Heart, When My Ship Comes In, Clever, I'm So Happy, Little Guy, Underachiever, Love Is Never Equal, Soldiers Of Christ, Attic, Sold My Soul, and Super 8.

Regular price: $15.00 - ON SALE NOW: $12.00

http://www.jillsobule.com/store

“Bitter” Video

[I should point out that I work for Jill Sobule and posted this article on her FB Musician Site, which I am the administrator of. The comments below are from her site, where I first posted this. I didn't want anyone wondering why everyone thinks I am Jill Sobule!! I am taller and not as Jewish. -- Vincent]

Jill's site:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jill-Sobule/8040904099

"October in Paris” by Jill Sobule

Well, it was about a trip I took with my old French boyfriend Yves (who is now my best buddy). Anyway, we had a miserable time together. I wanted to go to the Impressionist museum, and he was the one that said, "Monet, could suck his dick". He was not fond of the Orsay museum for whatever reason. It was also miserable weather and the trains were on strike. We broke up a week later. 

Oh yes, we visited his parents who were not keen on me: American and Jewish. And he told them I was "bisexual". Why would he say that to his 80 year old old fashioned French parents? 

Now, I make him sound like a terrible person. I adore him now-but was a terrible boyfriend.  
-- Jill Sobule, March 08, 2010 in an email to me.


“October in Paris”

October in Paris 
The skies are all gray 
Walk all alone on the Champs-Elysées 
It just reminds me of our German Tanks 
Rolling through the arches 

October in Paris 
It's not a great night 
Everyone's pissy 
The trains are on strike 
It must have been better in twenty-five 
Josephine Baker and Absente 

You're absent in my life 
There's nothing I can do about it 
The more I travel, 
The more I unravel 
You're absent in my life 

It's raining in Paris 
The red traffic lights 
Stream like mascara 
defusing the sky 
It just reminds me 
How much I dislike 
Monet's Water Lilies 

And it's so pathetic 
When someone name drops 
Puts famous dead artists 
And Paris in song 
Please forgive me for 
All I've done wrong 
Today my self-worth is absent 

You're absent in my life 
There's nothing I can do about it 
The more I travel 
The more I unravel 
You're absent... 
You're gone... 
You left me in the storm... 
You're absent in my life 


This song was on her Valentine CD called "Be Mine... Please" (2000).

"Heroes" by Jill Sobule

Jill Sobule will be playing La Java March 16, 8:30pm in Paris. And yes, she will so be singing “Heroes” in France. You know, where they joined the resistance after the war. She’s done it before. They didn’t applaud. Maybe Jill sang the words too fast. I have them below. 

Does anyone want to add lyrics to the song? Do you have any heroes who turned out to be jerks -- or at least made a fool of themselves? IE: “Tiger woulds do anyone...”

“Heroes”

Why are all our heroes so imperfect
Why do they always bring me down
Why are all our heroes so imperfect
The statue in the park has lost his crown

William Faulkner drunk and depressed
Dorothy Parker mean, drunk and depressed
And that guy in Seven Years in Tibet turned out to be a nazi
The founding fathers all had slaves, the explorers slaughtered the braves,
The Old Testament God can be so petty

Paul McCartney jealous of John, even more so now that he's gone
Dylan was so mean to Donovan in that movie
Pablo Picasso cruel to his wives
My favorite poets took their own lives
Orson Welles peaked at 25, ballooned before our eyes
and he sold bad wine

Heard Babe Ruth was full of malice
Lewis Carroll I'm sure did Alice
Plato in the cave with those very young boys
TS Elliott hated Jews, FDR didn't save the Jews
All the French joined the resistance after the war
Raymond Chandler drunk and depressed
Tennessee Williams drunk and depressed
Think I'll just get drunk and depressed. 



Video for “Heroes”
 


Buy Jill’s grand music at: http://www.jillsobule.com/store

“Wendell Lee” by Jill Sobule

Jill and Wendell Then

 

I was thinking about old flames and where they are now. Let’s see, I have had maybe 7 or 8 (serious to semi-serious) break ups in my life. I am thinking that means you went out with them for, say, more than 3 months. So, that doesn't count Robbie Naiman, who in 6th grade, asked me to go steady in the morning, then broke up with me after second recess. It seemed an eternity. That does not include my terrible crush (a year later) on my best friend Mary Gardner, who accidentally (or was it?) touched my breasts.
 
I had not done it yet. You would have never guessed. I considered myself a rather hip girl for my age. I had a fake ID, had smoked pot, and played in a glam rock band with older guys who had suspect English accents (they were from Denver). Yet, I think, I was the last of my girlfriends to go “all the way”-fourth base. I was starting college in a week and this seemed absurd and somewhat shameful.

Second day of my freshman year at Colorado University: I thought I would find the cutest guy in our dorm, make an advance, and get over that hump.

During our dorm floor orientation, this adorable, but sort of badass looking Hawaiian boy with dark aviators and surfing shorts, walked in. 

I had not gone all the way yet with a boy, and thought... enough was enough. So, that night, after a party, I took him to an all night Denny’s for an English muffin, and the rest was history.
 
We lasted the rest of the year, but it was always pretty iffy. I was in my depressive anorectic phase, and he was the popular campus drug dealer. One of our more "romantic" moments was when I came home from class -- it was my birthday -- and he had the number 19 written in cocaine on the glass coffee table. So there are tons of Wendell Lees: a photographer, a wine dealer, a lawyer, but none seem to match.

Many years later: I spent an entire evening on the internets trying to find out what ever happened to Wendell. No luck. Not everyone has a personal vanity website, tweets, or does Facebook. After that, I started Googling other people from the past. This was not a complete waste of time as I ended up writing a song called…Wendell Lee.

The song has been out in the world (on California Years) for almost nine months. People have inquired if I have heard from Wendell.

Last week: I received an email from Wendell. He had not heard the song. I sent him the record (with a wooden dreidel –I have a ton of them left over from my holiday CD). He is, I think, honored to have a song with his name in the title. He was, however, curious about what the little wooden toy was all about. Just to let you know, he has fared better than the other exes in the song. He is still cute, has his hair, and a job.
He sent me a bunch of pictures that he took from our time together. I have not seen myself from that period in many a year. I forgot about my Loraine Newmanish perm. I forgot that despite the hairdo, I was actually kind of cute too. I never felt that way though. I was about to go into a full-blown eating disorder the following summer. Is youth wasted on the young? Nah, just let’s you reflect and write a good semi-depressing song. -- Jill Sobule

Jill and Wendell Today

“Wendell Lee”
(Written by Jill Sobule, Robin Eaton)
 
Hey Wendell, where are you now?
I searched online, but nothing found
I wonder what you done and what you become
Wendell, you were the first for me
We were both stoned and seventeen
After our date at the Denny's, we got it on
We got it on

It didn't last too long

Hey Robin, I typed in your name
Nothing came up, so I'm afraid
I'll never know exactly why you broke up with me
But it turned out okay
Met someone else on that same day
Her name was Jenny and I wrote her that song
Didn't last too long
And the list goes on

These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
I went out with
Before I met you
These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
Thought would be the one
Oh

Oh Billy, my, how you changed
You lost your hair and gained that weight
I wonder if I
Look that bad too
Have you kept up with my career?
Do you still wish that you were near?
I hope that you regret
You fucked my best friend
Marilyn
Marilyn

These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
I went out with
Before I met you
These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
Thought would be the one
Oh

Hey Alex, now what do I do?
Went on Classmates and I found you
Do I pay extra for your address and phone?
No, I leave it alone
I got a new love in my life
I think that this one could be right
If not, I'll add another verse to this song
And the list goes on

These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
I went out with
Before I met you
These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
Thought would be the one

These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
Thought would last and make me happy
These are some of the people that I (Some of the people)
Thought would be the one
Oh

Hey Wendell, where are you now?
Hey Wendell, where are you now? 

 

Video for “Wendell Lee”

 


 


 

Jill She Is...

Concrete cows!

(A Thank You to Jill Sobule's UK Street Team)
by Vincent

Jill Sobule has given me the privilege of being her INTERNATIONAL street team Czar. When I tell friends about Jill's UK tour they always ask, "Do you get to go?" No... and yes. I won't get to travel with Jill, yet in an odd way I will. For one thing, Jill and I are the same age and seemed to have had our minds polluted by the same pop culture trash. When I listen to her music, talk to her or read her e-mails to me, I feel she is saying exactly what is in my head. Funny, the voice in my head is tiny, cute and Jewish. Who knew?

I don't know if you have seen "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" but there is a amazing song in the movie called "The Origin of Love." That song suggest that we were all once a single person made up of two people. The Gods were annoyed at us being so happy so they ripped us apart. Somewhere on this lonely planet is your other half wondering why you haven`t returned their calls. What is the problem? Do you not like you? Well, I returned Jill's call and now suspect she is my less boring twin. I have such fun living vicariously through her. In a way, I am writing cool songs, traveling the world and braking hearts where ever I go.

Then again, when I feel what Jill is feeling am I really: driving across the country in a twenty-four hour marathon jammed in a cramp, smelly van scrunched in a bucket seat with my back screaming. Or after three months on the road do I take my one day off to do laundry -- or sleep? Maybe I get finished with the tour and wander around the house like Hamlet's ghost for a solid week. I asked Jill why she does it? She looked off the bare stage to the empty seats, remembering an hour before, she smiled and said, "It's just sooo much fun."
I see the fun too. As I sign people in the UK up, I am struck again and again how fun and excited they are. And how much they are going to get a kick out of Jill. Just like when I talked to Jill for the first time, I feel (when I read the e-mails) I am talking to a good friend after a long time apart.

One woman, who has been amazing and that Jill rightfully calls a Goddess, is Emma "our girl in Milton Keynes." I can just feel the excitement and joy in her e-mails as she tells Jill all the cool things to do in town. It is the home of the decoding headquarters during the WWII that broke the German Enigma code and shortened the war. I thought that was soo cool. So did Jill. And now I find there are concrete cows standing in the fields of Milton Keynes. Yeah, I'm a dork but that is fab. And had it not been for Emma, Jill wouldn't know about them. And I suspect her trip would have been the poorer for it. Thank you Emma, you are a Goddess.

Am I going with Jill to the UK? Dang right I am. In my mind's eye, I am sitting on a concrete cow at this very moment, posing for a silly picture and waving like such a tourist. Sorry about the mess in my brain as you look around. I kind of live out of my head. But you do too...
Street Team UK... thank you!

Vincent
vincentblackwod@yahoo.co.uk

The Ten Other Songs by Jill Sobule You Must Hear

A lot of people are arguing the merits of the real "I Kissed A Girl" by Jill Sobule verses the other, recent version. Well let me say it, again, Jill is the best songwriter working today. I never miss an opportunity to prove that. Now seems like a grand time to celebrate a hero to nerdy girls and guys everywhere.

I see her like a friend with an honest, funny way of looking at things. I can't wait to read her blog at (http://www.Jillsobule.com). She never seems forced, arty or handing me B.S. -- unless handing me B.S. is part of the joke.

She can take the saddest, most heart breaking idea and catch me off guard with her wicked sense of humor. To me, she is amazingly playful and positive. No matter how sad the song may be, I always feel so much better after listening to it.

So here are ten other songs of Jill's that you MUST hear:

10. "Nothing to Prove" (California Years 2009)
A screamingly funny song written by Jill while on morphine. She probably needed it as she wrote about the decline and fall of the record empire.


9. "Super Eight" (Happy Town 1997)
This is a vivid, touching look at a child's birthday party. Watching an old film of the seemingly happy party, Jill begins to recall what really happened.


8. "Big Shoes" (I Never Learned to Swim 2001)
Jill had to wear corrective shoes and leg braces for most of her childhood. Her feet are now perfect. Her heart? Not so much. She details the damage with such wit that it's only after the song is over and you stop laughing, that you think, "That would be hell."


7. "Jet Pack" (Underdog Victorious 2004)

Jill takes a comic image and then shows an outsider dreaming. That describes most of Jill's work. The song soars in rapture (flying to her lover in the good part of town). But then the song ends very much on the ground;

.

I don't have a jet pack.

I don't even have a car

I just have this token 

And a head full of stars...

.

I can't think of any lines that describe Jill's magic as well as that.

6. "Rock Me to Sleep" (Pink Pearl 2000)
Not having someone to love can be hardest late, late at night. Lonely images swirl about Jill with such a real, yet poetic touch that you want to email her and ask; "Hey, are you okay?" A devastating adult lullaby.


5. "Karen By Night" (Jill Sobule 1995)
How this wasn't a hit song stuns me. It is such an infectious rocking song about a girl who follows her seemingly bland boss around to see what she REALLY does at night. And her boss isn't like the fat Marlon Brando...


4. "Strawberry Gloss" (Underdog Victorious 2004)
This song piles on images of teenage happiness. It perfectly captures a warm, innocent time. And then corrupts it with the reality of the situation. As Jill said, "Did ANYONE have a happy 7th grade?" She didn't.


3. "Mexican Wrestler" (Pink Pearl 2000)
This is a song about the person who you first fell in love with and they don't love you back. And you are screwed up to this day. It starts out very funny and quirky -- then swings around to the tragic. The effect is touching and beautiful.


2. "Houdini's Box" (Jill Sobule 1995)
The perfect song to listen to late at night. On one hand it is a dream about being trapped under water. On the other, it is about being in love. The song is hypnotic, comforting and frightening -- just like love.

1. "Somewhere in New Mexico" (Pink Pearl 2000)

"Palm Springs" (California Years 2009)

These songs will always hold a special place for me. I was feeling so lonely and awful riding a bus home from work through a black Minnesota winter. "Somewhere in New Mexico" played on my CD player. It changed me. It was the most beautiful song I'd ever heard. Perhaps only the Beach Boys' "Warmth of the Sun" comes close. It is a very holy song about not having faith. It is a very funny song about feeling so empty and alone.


I recently heard a live MP3 of "Palm Springs" and it is the next chapter in Jill's search for something more. These two songs go together like the first two chapters in a great novel. My favorite novel.


Jill's ability to weave images and complexed emotions is unsurpassed today. I really think only Dylan or Randy Newman in there prime were better at that kind of lyric writing -- although in the end, they are not as friendly -- not as endearing. You don't feel they are your BFF.

You can find Jill's CDs at

THE JILL STORE 

http://www.jillsobule.com/store

“Resistance Song” by Jill Sobule

Jill will be playing gigs in France in 2010. In tribute, here is a look at Jill's "Resistance Song" and a glimpse into her working methods. By the way, John Lennon and Ray Bradbury used dreams as part of their writing process. Recently, I found Jill sleeping on the job too.

I woke Jill out of a sound sleep. I could tell -- the yawning, the confused, "Yeah. Huh? What?" muttered into the phone. "It's okay, Vincent. I was having this dream, now I'll remember it... thanks. Can I call you back in five minutes?" She needed to write it down.

I knew it was important, it is part of her job. Journaling is where Jill often discovers songs. Writing down her dreams is part of that. Besides, it is interesting to see what is going on in our heads when we're not looking? Isn't it? Like wondering what our cat is really doing when we're not there. I once set up a video camera to solve that mystery. The answer? You don't want to know. 

"I had one of my weird high school dreams," Jill said. "It was after class and I was trying to find my way home. But I couldn't. I was completely lost. I have these dreams a lot: things like not remembering my locker combination, playing with a high school band, and I don't know any of their material. But I don't mind, you see -- I love bad dreams. You know why?"

“Why?” I asked.

“Because they didn’t happen.”

-- Jill Sobule to Vincent Blackwood (08-31-2009)



Through out my life I have had dreams that I am in the resistance. I’m fighting Nazis! They are great dreams, the kind you wake up and you just want to close your eyes back... I’m not scared. I’m in some corridor and I’ve got, you know, a machine gun, but I don’t feel bad about killing because... these are NAZIS! And it’s always VERY romantic. You know, I either think that in a pass life I was a resistance fighter or I just watched a lot of Hogan's Heroes growing up.

-- Jill Sobule (On The Edge - 1995-06-05)




“Resistance Song”
(Sobule)


I had this dream we were in the resistance
Somewhere in France fighting traitors and fascists
You were my mistress yes you were a woman
But I knew it was you by the shape of your mouth
You called me Maurice and I had a small moustache
Played clarinet in a decadent band

Until we
Hid in the bushes
We shot from the bushes
Made love in the bushes
Like there was no tomorrow

But in my real life I'm a cocktail waitress
Dodging men's hands instead of bullets
And you're a bass player in the band that got a deal
Dealing with assholes instead of explosives
Still we were grateful to be alive
Together fighting side by side

As we
Hide in the bushes
We shoot from the bushes
We love in the bushes
Like there's no tomorrow

We'll drink from the bushes
We'll hide in the bushes
We'll love in the bushes
Like there's no tomorrow

(La la la...)

We promised if one of us left or died
We'd meet again in another life

And we'll
Hide in the bushes
We'll shoot from the bushes
Make love in the bushes
Like there's no tomorrow

We'll hide in the bushes
We'll shoot from the bushes
Make love in the bushes
Like there is no tomorrow

Video for Resistance Song 


Resistance Song is from the CD Jill Sobule (1995).

Buy it from Jill’s store so she will actually make some money on it.


Jill's biggest selling CD, featuring her two MTV hits and many other favorites. Includes: Good Person Inside, Margaret, (Theme From) The Girl In The Affair, Karen By Night, Houdini's Box, Trains, I Kissed A Girl, The Jig Is Up, Resistance Song, Supermodel, The Couple On The Street, Vrbana Bridge, and Now That I Don't Have You. 

Regular price: $15.00 - ON SALE NOW: $12.00

Meet an Introspective Mess

“Superglue & Seashells” by an Introspective Mess

When I first heard the song "Superglue and Seashells" by an Introspective Mess I had the same reaction that I had when I first heard Amanda Palmer's "&" and Jill Sobule's "Somewhere in New Mexico." This songwriter is blessed... and cursed. She can't help but tell the truth. Like a tragic figure out of Greek Mythology, she doesn't say what she should, she says what she must. And that will bring her endless pain. An Introspective Mess, like Jill and Amanda, is incapable of bullshit, even to save her soul.

It is interesting to see how an Introspective Mess, Jill Sobule and Amanda Palmer each deal with the burden of that gift. How they wrap it in humor, surrealism or quirkiness in hopes of sweetening it. Tricking us to drop our guard long enough to become sympathetic before we are horrified by what is really going on. It's a dangerous game that. But they have no choice.

-- Vincent (Dec 20, 2009)

I'm going to post this and pretend that I am some kind of important (which I'm not). Recently, I was asked by my friend Vincent to write the stories behind some of my songs. It's kind of interesting...

“Superglue & Seashells”
.

This song took me forever to finish, but once I was done I was done! It is probably the most personal song I’ve written and been okay with sharing, and even still it’s rarely played.

.

Many days and many nights as I sat in my closet, I would get bombarded with different lyrics and not be able to do anything with them, so I’d write them down and go onto the next set. Finally, I was sitting on my mom’s bed, reading old letters when the rhythm popped into my head. I rushed to my uke, and kept playing it over and over again so I wouldn’t forget. Then I brought out my journals and started dissecting areas that I could relate this music to. It was sad and lonely and very personal. And, of course, I knew that either this song would be the first I ever express my troubles with depression, self-injury, and suicide or it would be one of those secret songs I sing under my breath so no one can hear it. It wound up being the first…

.

The majority of “Superglue & Seashells” was written during my Great Depression in 2008. I had attempted suicide and quit cutting for about four months prior to the onset of the latest tragedy. After a couple weeks of incessant emotional and physical pain, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I popped off some blades from disposable razors and started self-medicating, so to speak. I had quickly gone from the few cuts a week that I was doing before to forty a day if I was allowed opportunity. Sleep was useless, I had given up on it. Every time I laid my head on a pillow, the demons that inhibit my brain came out to scream at me. During times of depression, they do that. I hear a lot of things, like voices, screams and glass breaking. To silence these unbearable sounds, I kept music playing 24/7 on my iPod. I had found Blue October very useful because for once, I wasn’t alone. There was actually someone that felt this same way, and is still alive - whoa! What a relief. What a ray of light that dimly shined into my cave.

.

Welcome to my closet. I cleared out a lot of junk, getting rid of it. Then I made a home for myself, comfortable in it’s dark and cold embrace. I never cut myself in there, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t take out my self-hatred. I was able to be the emotional mess that I had become when I was hidden behind that door; I was able to break down and cry, and then to stop myself from being the Stupid Girl that I am, I would hit myself. Bashing bruises on my thighs, my back - nearly blacking out from hitting myself in the head so hard that my vision turned black and slowly returned to it’s dysfunction. I was a wreck, but through music kept it together. 

.

Throughout this time in my life, I played more shows than I ever had. In fact, it was the only time I left the house. Oddly enough, I had become so numb that most of the time I didn’t remember a single thing that happened. Only plugging in and walking away. It was nice not to feel the nerves, but I missed the satisfaction of combating them.

 .

I don’t know if anyone really knew what I was going through, because I’ve always been really ashamed to admit that I have feelings, but if it hadn’t been for music and the love of friendship, I know for a fact I wouldn’t have made it. Not one day.

.

-- An Introspective Mess (Sunday, December 06, 2009) 

"Superglue & Seashells"

Another blank white page
Where my thoughts should be
The wind stole words from my mouth
And carried them away

Where do I start?
Where do I start?

I'm locking myself in the shelter
I've made from my bedroom closet
It's the place of safety I run to
When the world turns It's tongue

Oceans crash in my stomach
An un-aided sort of rush

Everything about me aches
Waiting for relief
I feel as if I'm dancing
On a dam about to break

Where do I start?
Where do I start?

These scars create a treasure map
Of who I am, where Ive been
And I cannot hide all these marks upon my skin

So, paste a smile on this frown
With superglue and seashells
If you pull it off just right
No one will think to look twice 

Video for "Superglue & Seashells"

Visit an Introspective Mess by clicking here

www.myspace.com/introspectivemess 

or 

E-mail: tippythevegan@yahoo.com

When I Was as Naive as the World

So that's today's memory lane
with all the pathos and pain
  “Forth of July” - Aimee Mann

Today I found myself strolling down memory lane. Strolling? Okay, running like a madman. Like a man in love. It was the 1970s, I had fallen in love for the first time. Of course she didn’t love me back. Had she, I won’t be a writer. I’d be a happy idiot with five kids and good job. Nope -- not for me. I took the path less travel on. And I suspect Kris had a lot to do with that -- and in ways that only now I can comprehend.

Kris had ice blue eyes, was delightfully flat and tall. She had deep caramel color skin, long blonde hair and a deep chocolate voice that drove me crazy. Even today, I think it is a woman's voice that I fall in love with first. Voices that are different and full of character. Yep, you have a speech impediments -- you have my heart.

I confessed my love for Kris. She confessed that she actually wasn’t fond of people (of any kind) and wanted to be alone. She was close to one person, Renee. Renee had short black hair and looking like a tennis star from one of the Slavic countries. She was a very sporty girl.

My best friend at the time was Karen. We were both art geeks who’d listen to music and try to find the deeper meaning in the songs and life. I hung with a lot of girls. None of them seemed to have boy friends. At the time I didn’t think about that. I have just always been drawn to strong, independent gals.

You’re probably thinking. Umm, guy -- don’t you get it? It was the 70’s. The gay rights movement was just an ember. Lesbian were seen as crude stereotype. They were shunned by society and branded as freaks. Women didn’t have power back than. And a gay woman? Oh God, light the torches. Their is a monster -- a dangerous, unstable thing who clearly is up to no good. The closets were very crowded back then.

As for me? I honestly never even thought about it, too damn busy with my own pity and anger. Remember how you were as a teenage before you throw the first acme pad. I found solace for my broken heart by listen to a female singer. Their were rumors about her, too; “Didn’t she come out on the tonight show?”

“NO! That wasn’t her!” I’d correct.

She wasn’t one of those. Why were people slandering her? She was so pretty, so girly, girly! She was America’s sweetheart. Boys all around the world were looking at her and sighing -- their nights were filled with dreams of being in her arms. And, as it turned out, a lot of girls were looking at her, sighing and dreaming too. This singer had a very broad demographic. God, no wonder she sold a gazillion records.

Years later someone, probably a female fan of the singers, suggested I read a book: The Vinyl Closet: Gays in the Music World by Boze Hadleigh (Los Hombres Press C1991). Boze had an interviews with an unnamed famous singer, her “husband” and a girl who had an affair with the singer. There were so many obvious clues that anyone reading the book knew who the singer was.

At first I was pissed at Boze. Either he made it all up, or even worse, he betrayed her trust by outing her. That faded quickly. I was changed. I still felt the same about her, but how I looked at bi or lesbian women was different. They weren’t stereotypes anymore. They were people. Someone who I thought was the coolest person in the world, who sang very honest and true emotion. Someone who had a way of expressing my innermost feelings of longing, warmth, loss and the need to be needed.

It was like someone had lifted up a box that I had only seen the front of, turned it 180 degrees and set it back down. It was the same world it had always been, but it was not. Seeing it from another point of view (a view that was always there but I had never taken the time to consider) change me. I was no longer as naive as the world.

I send Boze a letter, explaining in detail what he had just done to me. He sent me back an autographed copy of his next book. A pretty damn big book, as I recall. I really don’t think he could afford to send that out to everyone. Perhaps my letter had the effect he was longing to have on the world. A world still pretty hostile to anything queer.

The songwriters I love the most today (who speak truest to my inner, deepest feelings) are women. I was talking with one of them recently, Jill Sobule, and she had her walls cover with the posters of same singer I did in the seventies. And knowing Jill, she was having the same rather impure thoughts about our cute girl-next-door singer. Pretty funny, know we have the same tastes in women. Yet I don’t know if Jill looks at picture of herself and sighs. I do. In some ways I’m still the fourteen-year-old boy, aren’t I? 

This week I had another epiphany. Another the box-had-just-been-turned-180-degrees day. I thought, “Hmmm, maybe I was a lesbian in a former life.” Out of the blue two of my best friends said the same thing on almost the same day. They both meant it as a complement. I couldn't have felt more proud. 

Song by Song by Jill

The idea for this the book Strange Light (Understanding Creativity) started in a previous website: Song by Song by Jill. At that site I tell the stories behind Jill Sobule's songs in her own words.

I am currently the administrator of both Jill’s official Facebook Musician page and street team. Swell gal, that Jilly Sue. A hero, my favorite songwriter, my mentor and the complete anti-diva.

Oh Crap, Today I Meet Jill Sobule

Oh crap, today I meet Jill Sobule. What kind of fool would I be? How would I screw this up? I’d find a way to have her look at me like I was crazy. I was sure of it. I had been helping Jill by being the administrator of her Facebook Musician site and her Street Team. I’d talked to her on the phone a lot but never met her. She called me and said she had something she wanted to give me. I stood outside the venue arguing with the guy at the door who kept repeating, “I don’t care what Jill Sobule told you. NO ONE gets in before seven.”

There was a flash of blonde hair behind him and red and blue stripes. A little pixie grabbed my hand, I took Kerry’s and we were beyond the looking glass.

“But...but...but...” a distant voice kept saying. I knew the rest. (We all know the rest.) There are rules. Yep. But Jill wasn’t playing by them. We past a big sign that read, “ABSOLUTELY No Photographs.” Jill winked at Kerry as Kerry took out a camera. ”Don’t play by their rules, Kerry.”

We went into the dressing room and she introduced me to a very sweet Erin McKeown. Next Jill kept thanking me for all I’d done for her. You’d think I was the star the way she treated me. Excited as a kid, she handed me a package. It was a painting she had bought of my favorite author Truman Capote. It was amazing and so sweet of her. Yet the truth is Truman Capote is now my second favorite writer. I was chatting with my favorite. Oh -- wow.

And then it happened. I screwed up. You knew I would, right? I looked down in horror. We were both wearing the same red and blue striped shirt. “Sorry, I should have called you,” I muttered.

“I’ll change!” she said. When she came out on stage, I gulped. She was in her Liza Cabaret outfit. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I too was wearing black fishnet stockings. Let’s keep that little secret to ourselves, okay? I am the king of unfortunate social faux pas. 

  

                               Jeanne, Jill and Kerry  


She gave me two other gifts, but may not recall them. The second gift was sitting with my friends and watching their reactions to her songs. She sang “Somewhere in New Mexico” -- which she knew was my favorite song. Watching Tom laugh and gasp as the song danced around so many emotions was a thrill I wasn’t expecting. To see Kerry nod with recognition during “Strawberry Gloss”. Kerry was in seventh grade again and reliving every detail. It was so fun to hear Jeanne laugh at “Wendell Lee”. I felt so connected to them. No longer would I worry that I was boring them as I went on and on about that fabulous Jill Sobule. From this day onward they would get it. She was their hero now too. Hero? Hmmm, wait....

Erin, me and Jill

The third gift was that as good as the concert was (and it was the best that any of us had seen) as amazing as it was that I was pulled up on stage by Jill. (I got to hold her lyric sheet and Erin’s xylophone as they did Neil Diamond’s “Coming to America.”) The best gift of the night was the way she talked to my friends and I as if we’d all known her twenty years. We were just old friends hanging out and shooting the breeze.

It was wonderful to watch Jill after the show. She talked to everyone who wanted to chat. She signed everyone’s autograph. She stood for every photograph and encouraged them to take more. The charm and kindness she had at making everyone feel like long lost friends was amazing. 

A few months ago I was listening to her music and reading her journal. I felt such a connection to someone I hadn’t even met. In the cold light of day, I knew how silly that was. I kept flattering myself in thinking we were kindred spirits. The first time I read her online journal was the moment that it hit me. She seemed to think and feel exactly like me. I remember thinking, “I’ve got to meet this woman!” And then I woke up. That would never happen. That’s the dream of a music geek who lies in bed thinking, “Man, someday I’m gonna be hanging out with Paul McCartney! He‘s gonna listen to everything I say and look at me like I matter.”

That was just a dream. I thought reality would be like what happened to my friend Tom, who finally got to meet Garrison Keiller. The man in the red shoes panicked when they made eye contact. Tom could see it in Garrison’s face. “Where the hell is security? Does this guy have a knife? Is he gonna leave his mark that way; in my chest?” It was the single most awkward encounter of Tom’s life... so far.

It is only in retrospect that I realize what an amazing gift Jill has. And she keeps giving it to everyone she meets. There have been times people have taken the gift of Jill’s friendship and tossed it right back at her. I know it has even made Jill cry to be rejected like that by someone she respects. People tell her to get a thick skin and not let it bug her. Yet it is what keeps her so open, friendly and willing to make contact: she has been on the other side. She knows just what it is like to have someone stare at her like she was crazy. But they aren’t going to beat Jill. She won’t become just another insensitive person who lets fear win and stops meeting people so openly -- just because it might hurt or it is a lot of trouble.

“She so personable,“ Jeanne kept saying again and again, as if it was impossible that she was so open and warm. What planet did she come from? Surely not this one.

It is hard work. Very hard work. Kerry decided she didn’t want to be a rock star when she saw all the behind the scene crap: Jill is her own roadie, she sleeps in a van scrunched up in a bucket seat as they drive all night to the next gig. Laundry? When do they do laundry? She smelled fine. Fresh as a fucking daisy.

I gave Jill a pink bag that read “Girls Rock”. It was full of Pringles, M&Ms and Rice Krispies Bars. Stuff Jill mentioned she paid way too much for at the mini bar. It was quickly devoured by Jill and her friends who needed something before the long trip ahead.

“What a glamorous life,” I kidded.

“But the shows, meeting the fans,” she said, “it’s so much fun.”

Jill has to go through hell just to come alive and spend a few hours with her fans. Fans that may have come to see Erin. They didn’t know they were fans of Jill’s when they came to the show. They would find it out when Jill started playing. And then Jill would talk to them. And they won’t be her fans anymore. They would become her friends. Come to think of it, Jill doesn’t have fans. She has friends that she sings to and chats with. That’s what makes her so different. You can’t wait to hear from your buddy, Jill. A buddy that says the smartest, funniest things. I mention that I cook for Kerry (who being a student, can’t afford protein). 

“He’s my meat provider!” Kerry said.

With a wonderfully dirty laugh, Jill smirked at Kerry. 

“Well, like a boyfriend, I mean,” Kerry added.

“Same thing!” Jill said.

Kerry was so afraid that she’d make a fool of herself in front of Jill. I told her Jill would completely understand her. “It’s so much fun to be with all these people who don’t look at me like I’m strange,” Kerry sighed.

“I’m really strange too,” Jill said, “but now I’m making a living at it.”
 
Kerry and I went back to Jeanne’s place. After playing with Jeanne’s beloved cat, Pete, we crashed on the floor. I can’t say I went to sleep. I didn’t sleep a wink as the evening replayed itself over and over in my mind. It was as if my brain was saying “Wow -- that was the coolest night of your life. Remember every smell, taste and sound.” Funny things kept coming back: Jill dressed in jeans and a T-shirt after the show (but still wearing her Liza hat). Or how we stood outside after packing her van and talked. 

My friend Tom was supposed to be at work at 4 AM the next day (with a long drive ahead of him) and was going to cut out early. It was almost midnight and he couldn’t leave, Jill was too interesting to talk to. She had noticed he was reading Stephen King’s “On Writing” and they started talking about it. Soon they were suggesting other books to each other.

We all had the feeling she was excited that we had stuck around to chat. We really felt like she didn’t want us to leave. That is such a good feeling to have. She wasn’t looking forward to a twenty-four hour drive to Seattle -- just her, Erin and the tour manager. 

“They want me to drive THAT,” she said pointing to the scary behemoth. “I’m a crappy driver!”

“Tell them if they value their lives -- they won’t let you drive,” I suggested.

“You‘re right! I‘ll tell them that. I’m not driving!”

Suddenly, like a six-year-old after too much Mountain Dew, Jill started jumping and dancing on the black top. It was so sweet and enthusiastic. It was just a second, no one else may have noticed it -- but it sticks in my mind: the chill of the November air, the sound of her sneakers on pavement and dried leaves, the dolphin joy of jumping into the air just for the fun of it... just to celebrate. 

Laying in the dark at Jeanne’s place, all I had was Jill's gift of the painting and a head full of stars. How could I sleep? I was still in a dream.

Thank you, Jill.