Dear Gina...

I was reminded by a child who enjoys scanning bloggers for ideas to bring to school for show and tell. She told me that I hadn't updated any music, and the music on my other sites is always on the shelf. And I asked if she would mind me to write about her letter, and tell those who had also wondered if I still wrote songs, I'm still here and writing. I'm still writing, not performing though, I haven't kept my face like I did when I was twenty. Nor do I fit in leather jeans. Responding, she made me laugh, because she said, "You don't look that old, like my mother or my father" who are both decades below me.

Today I shot a video that makes me look like I did when I sang in a punk band somewhere in a darkened club. I guess it's not called singing, because its more like it's emoting, and it's somehow bleeding volumes of the pain, that then I felt. Below are those same lyrics from the song that I was singing, and soon on my music website, you can find the film and sounds. But for now, my new friend Gina, who lives somewhere in New Jersey, now has a friend from decades before she was ever born. Her mother and her father, thanked me for the words I sent her, and said she was very happy meeting me, somehow, as well. I leave these couplets here, to thank again, her parents, and to remind that music is never something that should limit thought. It should be a free expression, whether punk or folk or gospel, this atheist, you know well, is never talking gods. Gina, I'm back here writing, and I promise to update the pages, you have bookmarked, and someday, I may meet you as well.

But for now, we'll share the music, and thanks for the picture of me, that you drew for me this morning, it makes me look like an elf. So this elf will grant your wish, and a new song I have written, about you, just a first grader, you may some day see yourself. In my words, and in your own, I will read when I'm near gone, to remind me that music is as timeless as the stars. Some words are considered bawdy, and some may take opposition, that I write them here so freely, without warning from some tag. I don't believe that feelings deserve any suffocation, by government or churcher's, nor even from myself. Thanks again, miss Gina, and your parents, Ted and Toni. I hope that you get an A when you go to Show and Tell.
(er, and tell your teacher, the FONT MiX up IS intentional and see what s/he can read into that.)
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HEard InSide Your HEad.

(c) 2012 Cathe B. Jones (the RatmanDo Band)

he said, “how many women make a living playing music?”
I said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not as many as the men, but,
“I am not willing to make money from my heart’s blood.
“I’d rather be the one who’s heard inside your head.”

he grunted, ”Why do you think you’d be the one who’d change the visions
“that have been in there from birth until I’m dead?”
I smiled slowly because I knew that it had happened
And there’s no turning back from tattooing that blend.

Billions of people have been and yet to come here
Billions of songs are written, words invented, and
We only hear about the ones who’ve made some money
In my life I’d like to hear all the rest instead.
In my life I’d like to hear what’s heard inside your head.
I’d like to make some music that’s heard inside your head.

He said, “you’re too old, and too fat to be given any notice’
I said, “I figured that my figure isn’t what I’d sing, no.
“I figure you can see me with your heart instead. But,
“If you’re thinking music is just about my look then,
“It’s time to educate you if I can, but then again.
“You’re probably too shallow to think about the meaning.
“You’re probably too unfeeling to respond to sound.”
He gave me a tip of his hat, as if it was to tell me.
I’d figured out what he was and there wasn’t any ground.

they asked how do expect to be heard by someone
someone, he expects, wouldn’t take the time but
“I just want to express, it’s not for the masses,
“but if they want to I’m just glad to get what I get.”

He nodded as he walked, and he smirked.
“You don’t get that you aren’t worth the time.
No one wants to listen and no one will try, to.”
I just want them to sing along. Sing that along to me.

Billions of people have been and yet to come here
Billions of songs are written, words invented, and
We only hear about the ones who’ve made some money
In my life I’d like to hear all the rest instead.
In my life I’d like to hear what’s heard inside your head.
I’d like to make some music that’s heard inside your head.

(dedicated to 8 year old Gina Gavachucci, or some name close to that.. she rox)

(Mumble:)Taylor Swift and all of the pretty girls
Can’t hold a note, and it’s not an exception neither
Can Mick Jagger, and many more others.
so fuck it, I’m trying. I’m trying.

On Being A Rock Star

I got asked, "do you want to be on stage again?" and the question was about becoming a "rock star". I had just watched Anthony "The Swan" Kiedis with Michael- aka Flea, at just about 50 years of age, topless in a concert taped in Ireland. Chad still sat back there hat on head, and the guitarist of the day, (ala Spinal Tap, but in a good way), had a great sound both on strings and vox. The New "Twan the Swan" seemed to be contented, not so crappy and drugged out, and wow, actually coherent. He always is coherent, but even more so- his eyes said, "Clarified".

One of my songs, "Debbie Harry", which should be live on the Ratmando Site eventually, is about all the women who inspired me from the super goddess of voice Gladys Knight, to Souixie Soux, to Chrissie Hynde, to of course, Ms. Bad Ass her own self, Debbie Harry. I used to hear 'You sound like Rita Coolidge"or, "Hey, did you record that like Karen Carpenter?" which made me nuts. I wanted to be Wendy O'Williams. It would anger me that I wasn't able to make Freddie Mercury's voice come out of my mouth when I was 10. And, if I couldn't play drums like John Bonham, how would ANYONE listen to me do rock music?

I never did become the next Wendy O. I did get a tattoo and piercings, but I never learned to play drumkits, just talking drums, and percussion toys. My voice still sounds like I'm part Rita Coolidge, part Karen Carpenter. The bands I was in tended to be part punk-pop, part pre-grunge. My body was small, my hair was big, and my eyes were bigger- and that usually added to the fact people would think I was a member of L7. Comedy ended up taking over my night life, when my body stopped being that of a 20 something. But there I have to thank Shirley Manson, Chrissie Hynde, Tina Turner, Madogga, er.. you know her real name, I can't really stomach her much... but I appreciate her role in women in music history. Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart- they are the pair that REALLY tell it. Hot rock chicks over 40 are great- but Hot ROCK chicks over 50? THAT is my next goal.

I last saw Ann and Nancy at a Pearl Jam concert in Vegas, where I live. Vedder, by the way, is touring starting this April, here in town. And the tickets are stupid expensive. Oh, wait, a hot guy with a ukelele, that makes more sense for pricing. That and his show is now sold out. Meanwhile I missed Chris Cornell, as apparently 2/3rds of the Pearl did, because the place was hollow according to friends. THAT is a singer I want to be like, on stage anyhow. Yet, not off stage. His life was hell for years. I'm drug stupid. I even wrote about how stupid I am regarding them. I can't possibly get into them- I'm on too many real meds for real issues. I hate being out of the loop on things, too. This is another story for another time, and involves Ambien, and Indian Medicine. Nevermind. Ann and Nancy-  Voices blended smoothly, Robert Plantesque, as usual. Guitar wasn't a chick version- Juliana Hatfield, what were you thinking with that line anyway? If you get the June 2003 bootleg, (bootleg??boondogle- they make cash, it's not a boot.), if you get that one, though, they Rock in the Free World at the end of the show, and it's slamming.

I never appreciated Heart. I mean, Dog and Butterfly- couldn't get that out of my head for years. Dreamboat Annie was in my collection because a "born again" friend gave me all her secular music once she discovered that Satan was in charge of it all. I tried to convince her it was SANTA but it didn't matter. I never bought a Heart album. It was only for the reason- I wasn't sure how pretty voices worked in hard rock, punk, or the folky rock I was into- and white chicks wailing when I was into Motown? Couldn't fathom it. But they did worm their magic into me somehow. By the time Singles came out, I had met the women a few times, and even met Cameron Crowe at SXSW.

Ann spoke at a conference once- could have been something other than a conference- I didn't do drugs, but Ambien really messed me up- and I heard her really wake up a lot of people on their opinions of women and body image in the media. She also had a stutter as a kid, and I battle aphasia, so it was very cool to hear her words. People look at image, before they meet the humanity. I got to see her humanity and suddenly I paid attention to Heart. I learned about how the women started the band, how they wrote, and how they battled the public when Ann started to gain weight. As a child I wasn't fat, but I THOUGHT I was, and because I was never told otherwise, I thought I looked manly, ugly, and by all means, the least attractive girl in school. Public image reflects our faults in a magification worthy of the Hubble. Here was the most beautiful woman in rock, and she was having that same issue. In-sane!

If image is what matters when you do touring, then what's the point of being a woman on stage? Well, that's bullshit, is all. Pink will be doing her thing when she's in her 70's just like the Rolling Stones are doing now. (yeah, I know they're pensioners) Sharon Jones- MAN I want to be her sometimes. That is a joyful playful stage songstress. There are way too many GREAT women on stage. and of course- Debbie Harry is one of the best. Her "BITE ME"attitude is just so her. Patti Smith. And the younger gals who rip it up like Ting-Tings, and Spinnerette. Love it. LOVE it. They'll be moms, they'll be broads, they'll be kick-ass, they'll be musicians, they'll be the people I see live.  See that's the difference.

Back to the point. I am in my 40's. I am not perfect, perky, and to my own opinion, as pretty as Gwen Stefani- or other gals who make over 40 something glamorous when they work. I have physical disabilities. I write songs. I write a LOTof songs. Melodies and Lyrics are my strength and according to my perfect jazz master husband, I am a hooker. Ahem. I can write Hooks really well. But, I think the days of having me in a band that plays live are gone for those reasons, and because I see how the road affects people. I see how playing by paying clubs affects music. I see how egos become a plague when you're around other people on stage. It's just not my idea of a great time. I will happily be studio bound. And that's where I head RIGHT now! I stay home with my furry family, my loving wonderful husband, and in my HOME, something I truly wanted from the time I was a very small girl. A home is so much to me- the road isn't worth losing that.

Hermit By Nature, Music By Gimp

One of my biggest issues in working with others is that I'm a hermit by nature, and really don't work with others. Maybe it's a character flaw, but really, I think it's just that I get the big picture of my own creativity- it is my responsibility good or bad. Of the bands I've worked with, one was with a bass player who wanted to be the next Gedde Lee, and he tried to re-arrange all my music to reflect that. Sadly, he didn't undertand progressive rock, and everything he played tended to be rather highy pitched, and not really smart. He was a fair player, but an unfair band mate.

A second band, earlier in my music-mission, was not even a band. It was a really cool ginger fellow who went to school with me. He wrote amazing music, and I was granted the permission to sing one of his tracks. Sadly, it was just a one time thing, and I had hoped that he would put out more so I could sing more of his poetry. That was great fun, and I still remember every note.

The two other bands I ran myself. One was in Santa Fe, and had three drummers, none who played a standard kit- all who were from countries whose names are distant memories to anyone from Africa. The rhythm is everything next to the lyrics in my book, and the guitarist I had wasn't up for it. The poor guy- to this day I'll remember him trying to figure out what chords he could possibly do for a solo that would match a talking drum, a dumbek and whatever the other guy played that week. The other was in Boston, back when I was still in high school, but as most people could surmise, a high school band doesn't go for without some support from some adults, and none of us could count our parents in on any help of any kind, creatively. When I graduated a year early, the rest of the gang went on without me, and so it goes, they went into other bands in college, some doing okay.

That's not to say I hadn't TRIED to work with others. The second to last husband met me when I was studying jazz vocals, and he was playing trumpet. We could have worked together a lot- but as much as I had him in MY gigs, he never seemed to want me in his. He joined a huge band, and there wasn't room for me in it. My last husband, the one I have now, and the one I will NOT trade in, is a pianist of world class renown. He is working with me on a recording project, but it's been YEARS in the making.

When I work with others, I'm learning, I have to take into account their visions may not be what I have, and vice versa. My goals are to record as many songs as I've written, hopefully sell them to the token Piece of Arse du jour who is singing on some stage to lots of people, and make money that way. Others suggest I become part of the fogies tours and get on stage myself. Not going to happen- too gimpy, and again, hermit.

The other issue seems to be my political and nonreligious leanings. I am squarely middle of the road if the road is on the left, and certainly as godless as any heathen should, would, could, and can be. (godlessgrief.com) I find religion and anything that's 'god'-ish just barbaric and archaic. If man had meant us to have gods he would have made them more manageable. Or something. When it turns into control, it's not a doctrine of theology, it's a dogma of beaurocracy.  Blunderful at best. Generally I start talking to people about working on some music together, and next thing I know I'm being asked to talk about a relationship with a story book character. Don't play that well. At all. It's not my nature.

Music involves learning and listening. The band of the hour for me is Them Crooked Vultures, because of the perfect song writing, great rhythm section, and I only have ONE album, as that's all they've done so far, but can't wait for the rest. Because I can't, I'm listening and getting inspired to become THAT good. The pile of MP3's is growing. Hugely. I'm also working to reach out to people I listened to 20-30 years ago who have changed me. (I can't believe I'm SAYING 30 years ago...) It's been fun reaching out finding Willie "Loco" Alexander, Robin Lane, and looking up Human Sexual Response. And, it's sad to hear of the passing of friends and music monsters from Boston, Norfolk, and half the world I was in touch with years back.

Keeping on the keeping on here, and it seems like I'll have some sort of music recorded this year after all. It may be just demo material, but it will be mine and I'm okay with that.

The CIrcle of Influences

I spent the last couple of nights looking for bands that were around in the late 70's early 80's (er 1900, not 1800), in Boston, Virginia, Florida and Chicago-- I lived there then- pick a town- and spent a lot of time getting amped about new music, and older stuff. In Los Angeles, I was known as "the drumstick girl" because inevetiably you could find me wasting a LOT of time driving in my hand painted Chevy Cavalier drumming on a pad in the drivers dashboard. I used to think I'd play drums for ever, but since I never bought anything other than a Dumbek, a talking drum, and a bongo- not likely.

So the Circle of Influences- the chain of who has taken my ears through the years started with Gilbert O'Sullivan when I was just a wee pizza eating juke box user, at the Pleasant Cafe in Roslindale, a township just south of the city. The very first concert I ever went to of the Rock variety was The Bay City Rollers, I admit it. But, I wanted to see Queen, and finally did two years later. I was 13, but my friend Mary was 17, so my dad let me go with her. That was the start of a very long love affair with live music.

The worst part of being me is that I have a tendency towards stress related illnesses. Or, at least I did back in the late 70's and early 80's. I was forced into slavery by Colitis. (Yep, you look that up and see if I was very social as a kid.) Short version, I'd get places an hour or two early, if I went at all, and I ended up doing a LOT of things alone as not to embarass people I knew. But, I did get to hear the Del Fuegos, Girls Night Out, The Fools, and I was NOT at Boston Common when the tree branch fell during Anita Baker's show.. don't blame me.

Three of my favorite Boston bands were Scruffy the Cat, 3 Colors, and Mission of Burma. I was heavy into Human Sexual Response, Jon Butcher, and Robin Lane, too. I used to visit Landsdown Street for music, and TT Bears in Cambridge for music experiences. I'm now trying to contact the old bands to see if I can send them a Thank YOU cd of music based on their influences. Heart already said yes. Hope they dig it.

Why I Don't Drink and Blog....

Last night, my loving, kind, amazingly talented Jazz pianist husband came home to his very wiped out wife. But the real story is that I have insomnia. It isn't a mere occasional sort of rough night. Nope,there are full week long sessions of yours truly not nodding as one should. Last night was the opposite of that as I not only had a Temazepam, but I was dosed with 6mg of Melatonin.

I don't really drink because I am full of medication, and that would make great news but ruin life. I like the whole living thing. Some of my meds make me a bit loopy and others just help in pain management. Drinking doesn't do much for me other than make me cranky or bored.

Since I have so many meds, one thing that started about a year ago - I started having conversations in my sleep. I mean full on conversations and not just sort of words. The words are heard and understood by my husband, who then responded" waiting to see how I would possibly construct a new sentence with "shoes", "Lithiunia", and "oriole" thinking that I sound logical. A lot of the time I am completely asleep but in that phase where I could, if I want, hear TV with my eyes closed. Mike enjoys it.

The newest addition to the insomnia shuffle is that I now walk into different parts of the house, and perform the odd task or two. One time I decided that the milk need to be taken from the fridge and put by the trash cans. Another time I decided the toaster would work perfectly fine if only it were nearer to the television. These are all important decisions, and NEED to be done as I stumble in my sleep. If you see my husband ask him about Indian Medicine, as it will make him laugh, and embarrass me to no end. I am asleep, and doing something. This is all part of the need to be needed, doing important things, making life a series of wise choices rather than foolish moments. And yet, I put the bubble wrap in the bathtub for this is what bubbles do. 

The word combinations aside, what seems to be more important to lyrics to me is that comprehension be evident to people other than myself. It annoys me that some folks are so into the idea that they need to be in the upper echelon of cool, that they forget the people listening to them want to be a part of the emotions, get the meanings, feel the words, and own the music inside as well as on the MP3 players. For this reason, I spend a lot of time reworking songs and making sure they don't sound as uppity as my education would make it. I don't want to have someone hear what I'm saying and think " I don't get it". It would be much cooler to have someone say, "you got me". So that's how I work it. I'm sure I'll be awake the next time. What rhymes with Oriole?

I did it again- and no Whitney talk here...

First getting the big thing out of the way. The other day Whitney Houston died, and this isn't going to be about her. It can't be. I am not her, and I don't know her life experiences. I don't have any feeling of being influenced by her, and although it hurts that someone so young- or even when anyone goes ground- it wasn't my life to live, and I can't expect to know her mind, or her family. I feel sorry that her daughter will be in pain for a long time. I also feel this way for ANYONE who loses a closeness from their lives. Maybe that's you right now. No pity from me, just know I've been there too, and get it. It sucks. Get tears flowing, and life going- it's going to be bumpy, but you'll get through.

Now to the poorly worded Britney Spears line-- I didn't plan to, but I ended up taking care of someone else before myself again. I have a lovely side job that allows me the opportunity to work with some special people, who have done a lot in entertainment. I spent the last week helping one of these folks out, and then left my own projects sitting. That's not the point of living in the NOW. That's living in the idea that my life is about taking care of everyone else in the world but myself. I can't keep doing that. I need to finish what I'm working on for him, but then I have to let it go for awhile. He is a dear friend, and will understand, but I hope I will.

That's the problem I think many of us have. We're so wrapped up in the idea that we need some sort of approval, or some sort of acknowledgment for NOT letting someone down, we let ourselves down. This week I'm holding myself to a task. I'm going to approve of myself, and not let me down. Sounds hokey, huh? Maybe.

I signed up for Kickstarter, and I got a project approved from the New Yorkers who be the Kickstarter folks. It is about the music I do, the comics, the videos- it's all of who I am in my art work, and it's all of who I am in my music. The project is called Finding RatManDO- and it's going public in the next few days. I'll post a link, and feel free to share it. If I raise the money to fund it, I'll have a video, album, and comic book to share later this year.

This also helps me figure out what I'll be doing this year- Comic-Con SD or Long Beach, for a way to sell the project to others. I've been to San Diego for surfing, art, comedy- and Comic-Con, but not all at the same time. I can't surf anymore. I want to try, sometime, but so far, fear of harming the few working joints I have left is a bit too great. Comic-Con- wow what an adventure- but it's turned into TV/Movie con, and way too many people there. That, and have you tried to get a hotel room for under $200 within walking distance? Yeah, even Motel 6 is over priced that week. The drive there also damages me for a few weeks after, as well. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I'm finishing up the last bits of helping out my fellow artist. I have my MIDI device sitting nearby. I have my lyrics ready to go. I have some melody lines saved on my smartphone. I've been reading up on my music theory- I wish I had finished courses in San Francisco on this- I would have loved to have that second MA this week. It was fun watching Adele on 60 Minutes because she's just the musician I love this month. Tomorrow night as my husband is working, and performing in front of a thousand or so of his favorite Valentine dates- I'll be here practicing on the electric guitar.

Here's my promise to me this week. This week, I will post some more lyrics on my Ratmando.net site, and update it so I can post a link to it for anyone interested. I'm still in the process of updating my own site, which I hadn't done in a few years. BUT this time, it's for me.

Gimpy Guitarist Seeks Fingers That Work

It's been about 31 years since I held my first guitar, a 6-string student Yamaha. I now have my third six string, had a 12 string stolen, and then magically, a friend handed me my first plug-in toy just a few months ago. I once owned an acoustic Ibinez bass. It was gorgeous- a 5 string- as Penn Jillette called it, "the mariachi model". I played it until I couldn't, and then it sat in the house for zero use and love for years, until I could hand it to an absolute bass monster, Todd McDearman, who lovingly strums the b-a-s-s out of it.

Losing the ability to play an instrument doesn't really mean a lot to an amateur like me, most times. But I learned how to play piano when I was 11, guitar was my first love the year before- although I didn't really start playing it until I discovered Neil Young and Bob Dylan had entire ALBUMS in less than 5 chords. I write songs, and sing melodies, and when it comes to playing and singing at the same time- I often wonder if that task is lost on someone like me. I'm not good at it. I see people who can't tie their shoes playing Jimmy Page riffs and singing like Chris Cornell, and I'm still trying to figure out where I come in, and how to not play the melody if I'm harmonizing and vice versa.

Almost three years ago, a very amazing magician gave me his electric piano, another Yamaha- the Clavinova. It made me glad to be able to mangle chords and put notes to paper again. It also lets me play piano in a house where the world's foremost jazz monster has a 9 Foot Concert Grand, without me feeling like I'm playing chopsticks. (It's as if I was trying to learn to skate when Brian Boitano was the only other person on the ice.)

It's not that I don't have the skills to play an instrument. In fact, I studied with some great people, even went for a degree in music at San Francisco State for a second Masters to add to the pile. I can read fairly well, and even write my own lead sheets and charts. The problem is, I have Ehlers-Danlos and that means my fingers and the bones in my wrist, hands, palms, just all of the joints really- dislocate, sublux and swell in a nasty icky way. I have hands that turn into baseball gloves.

Back to the free bass from the pal. It's another Ibinez, but an electric one. Not a fancy Les Claypool one, or a razzle-dazzle Jeff Ament one, but a great garage band one. Liz said her electric bass, (in cobalt blue), sat in her house, much like my acoustic sat in mine. It didn't mean as much to her as it would me- it's given me a reason to figure out that electric instruments and I are good with each other. Electric piano, electric bass- why not go for it? And, that's when I bought my first electric guitar, exactly 35 years after deciding to be the world's best folk singer. See how following your dreams always works out.. oh wait a minute. I didn't follow these dreams.

I waited until I was in my 40's before I realized my mortality, my now, my need to just do the music I've always been dancing with for every day of my life. In fact, I have followed dreams. I've headlined shows, went to graduate school- twice. I learn new things as often as I can. My personal life? I finally figured out that the nice one is the right one. After fears of living homeless, I have a great house, pets, a family, and every minute of that is the real thing and the real dream. My body has fought me every minute- from colitis to depression, to Ehlers-Danlos.

Oh, and the biggest surprise about playing instruments in my 40's, that seems to be WAY different from the years as a kid, skinny grad student, and comedian? The lessons I have online don't take in to account the fact that I've grown quite a bit top heavy over the years. Having ample bosoms makes it a feat of acrobatics to play a guitar now. I could have worse problems.

Bandmix

Today I lived NOW by joining BandMix.com. It's a musicians site, that networks JUST music folk together. It's not like CDBaby, MySpace, or Reverbnation, because basically it's a long form Musicians Classifieds site. It's not a fans collective, but definitely a place to talk peer to peer or wannabe to wannabe.

I'll be posting songs, and listening to others to see if I might mesh up with prospective writing partners or band mates. Today, they ran a three months for $20 special so I went for it. Same price as one pizza, far fewer calories- I'm  on it. http://www.bandmix.com/ratmando/

There's another site that I've been on for about a year, called GIJams.com owned and run by Randell and Schippers- a music writing tour de force who have churned out hits for many people including Smashmouth. It's for those who are current or past military, or have a strong military connection, who want to show that creativity can live in uniform. I was in the Navy back when Reagan was still around, so I needed art and now I have a place to put some of the work I did. Look for Cathe B. Jones or Ratmando there and you'll be able to load up a couple of my songs. They're also on MySpace.com under ratmando as well. Oh and yes, they're all music now, and they're partly owned by Justin Timberlake so it seems it will be for a bit. Yep, they've even got their "Sexy back" by changing up the name to an elegant, My_, as if that worked for Prince? But so it is.

My hubby is off with some bandmates to see Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits fame. I'm kind of as music-aholic as he is, but I think it's important for him to have a life outside of JUST hanging out with me- so he has a close bunch of pals, also involved in music. I'm off to be pals with another group.

The Renaissance of 2012 Women

If you decide to read my midlife crisis blah-gh you may get where I am coming from and find yourself there, too. There seems to be a new renaissance of sorts with those of us born in the '60's starting to figure out we're mortal. At least some of us made it this far. Between AIDs and the Wars, hepatitis 3, and those crack-n-poppers from drug czar alley, well, some of us lived.

The days I sang in
the mid 1980's.

In the 1980's- feels like last century, right?- that's when most of us were making our plans to take over the world. But, reality and Reagan were the biggest emotional speed bumps. Whilst some figured out personal computing would take over, others were wearing Madonna lace, painting Cyndi Lauper hair, learning how to Rap, and trapping boy toys with teen parenting. Time Magazine told us our generation was going to use punk music to corrupt Religious Rightists, (I hope we did). In the 1980's a lot of us were becoming the Violent Femmes, Jim Jarmusch, or Tom Waits in response to post Disco, middle eastern post-kidnapped, war, free flowing creditors. And there was Phil Donohue, In Living Color, and sickeningly sweet bouncy Tiffany and Debbie Gibson tearing into our skulls as AM radio got replaced with college and alternative stations.

But women were rocking hard in that decade. Chrissie Hynde tore it up, as Debbie Harry owned the new rap waves. Heart made Led Zeppelin fans out of girls like me, as Kate Bush, Exene, Patti Smith, and even the B52s let the world in on the secrets that we write, perform, and own the stages. Lene Lovitch, Lydia Lunch, and so many other alliterations there were giving voices where none existed. Madonna despite my personal disdain of her "music", made clear our business was that of show. If 30 hours a day you're working to become the biggest name in the world, I suppose earthlings such as myself don't really have the reserved right to hate that stuff, (but I do).

A lot of us believed in the adage that hard work would pay off. I guess time wakes up all to greed and corruption left to us from the Love Generation. So strange that they tuned in, turned on, then discovered white collar crime. Meanwhile, artists are doing something in retaliation, and for most of us, it became clear we needed to earn livings if we expected to ever get to or through the 1990's. By day we were moms, geeks, and working for Fortune 500's, but by night a lot of us kept at those dreams and wrote music, created and waited for the world to let us be artists "for real". SOMEDAY would be just around the corner....

Now, it's 20 years and much more sobriety later. I keep running into women in their 40's and 50's thinking the same thing - NOW counts. We spent decades thinking that once we earned enough we could afford to live our dreams, but the truth is, dreams are free. Everyone from Pegi Young to Heart to even Madonna are making art, music, Kate Bush is doing film, Exene is doing poetry, Jane Weidlin is comic booking. They didn't stop either. You can look at any art event, and find women beaming brightly above the masses, being the subculture of the newest age of "in".

I am the Waste Band. I did stand up for years, did Ren Faires, did web sites, and always had some toy boy or went schooling for degrees hoping a better check would somehow fairly appear. So, I learned "fair" and "just" seem to agree for white men, but rarely enjoyed a marriage for art geeky gals with multi colored hair and tattoos. I went from being that proverbial skinny bitch, who never bred, had lots of men, worked hard, and then, married a great guy- lost that petite figure to time, thyroidism, and chocolate. My waist is larger, and I've wasted enough time. I started writing under the moniker of RatManDo, (no one can do like a rat man do), and publishing my songs, registering them with BMI. (Not Body Mass Index, but yes, I selected them for irony.) I started recording music I wrote in 1978, for the first time, and stuff I wrote in 1994 for the last. (Come on, how many Cobain songs do I need? Really?)

For years, I believed that there were too many people doing what I wanted to do so my "billet" wasn't available. PJ Harvey exists. There's already comic artists with bands. Stand up comedians who perform music are showing up everywhere from Margaret Cho to a dancing Ellen. Cathy Ladman, kudos for the voice. So, where would I fit in? I would fit in being me, and not being them. It took me a lot of years to figure that out. It took me a lot of years to understand I deserve to do art as I want to, and not to fill in a blank in the planet's need. It's for me, not for the world. If the world likes it, great, if not, I didn't waste (get it, waste? yeah. ho hum), time, I just did the best me I could do at the time, and if the rest of the world gets it, great, and if not, some day they will, or someday, whatever gets ignored will be the extra fluff in someone else's movie of life, and that's all good.

Catch that crazy eye?
And, Different Hawaiin shirt..

This blog is an introduction to the Waste Band. It's the goal for me now, not to live a life of waste. It's not to be so mired in the past I forget to be present. My favorite writer, when I was a child, was Henry David Thoreau, (his last name is pronounced Thorough, so it means more to me than you'd expect). He wrote about people living their lives in silent desperation, and never achieving goals because they always had "somedays" and not "nows". Walden gave him a Now. As a child I wanted to be Arlo Guthrie, hair and all. I wasted a lot of years not practicing my guitar, and let colitis dictate my ability to be on stage or not. I should have been in a dozen bands, but only managed to form or audition for a handful. I wrote hundreds of songs, but only recorded a dozen. Not anymore, that's the past. I live now. I'm in the Waste Band. Just call me RatmanDO. Who are You?