I did something for the first time in my life that filled me with fear and excitement....no, not skydiving (though you may know that I did this for the first time a few months back at Skydive Santa Barbara)  I had my saxophone overhauled.  It wasn't as traumatic an experience as jumping out of an airplane, or as I thought it would be (sending my vintage Mark VI Tenor to be disassembled and given an extreme makeover cost a bit more than the jump but didn't risk my life), but I'm pretty sure that was because I knew it was in good hands.  I met Paul Maslin when I was 17 or 18 and he was fixing horns in his basement apartment in Evanston, IL--and as I far as I knew, the only person in the Chicago area who you should let near your horn.  Fast forward a few years, a few more cities I've lived in, and a move down the street for Paul to his current storefront location at 822 Custer Ave in Evanston, and he's still the only one I've found who I'll allow to make his mark on the VI. 

Maybe it's because his work is so good, because when I got the horn back the kangaroo leather pads sealed with the gentle pop that I've only heard on new saxophones, because the tension of the blue steel springs was just right.  Maybe it was because the horn didn't clink and clatter as it had ever since I've owned it, and played so well that I just couldn't play it cool in front of Paul, I couldn't help but put on a dopey grin like a little kid getting to have all the candy he ever wanted.  It might be because of all of those things, but really, I think it's because I feel like Paul knows me, because every time I head into his store to get my horn looked at (by appointment only) he fixes it while chatting with me about life, saxophone, music, my life in LA, and our common friends--the conversation only being interrupted when he wants me to give the horn a try to see if I like what he's doing, which I almost always do--and if I don't, he knows exactly how to remedy that.  

Even though Paul's clients come from all over to get their fancy saxophones playing better than ever, and there are probably hundreds of them, he always takes the time to get to know you a little better, get to know your saxophone, and make sure you know he thinks you're cool and that you're welcome back to hang out with him any time.  

All that being said--I've never been so inspired by a saxophone as I am by the one Paul overhauled for me.  The tone, the response, the mechanics, I could go on and on.  Maybe I'll get my alto done too, but not before I go skydiving again. Click here to go to the website for Paul's shop, PM Woodwind.

A few months back (before I started this blog), I visited Macedonia, the country I lived in from '02-'04...it was the first time I had been back and it was a pretty amazing time.  I bought a few folk instruments there (a kaval and a Balkan duduk) and was just working on my kaval chops today so I thought I'd post some killin' folk music from Macedonia.  Here's a Dragan Dautovski recording of a folk song called "Dafino Mome."  I feel like the groove the kaval line sets up on the intro is just so deep.  Listen to how they slow down a bit every time the singer comes in--for some reason that makes it move even better.

And here's a shot of one of my favorite spots in the world, St. Jovan Kaneo on Lake Ohrid in Macedonia.  Archaeological rumor has it that it was built in the 13th century, and it was affiliated in some way with the monastery up the hill, St. Kliment Ohridski, which is also pretty amazing.  That little country sure does have a rich and long history--but the best part about it are the incredible people and their love for coffee, conversation, nostalgia, and rakija (home-made hard liquor made from plums, grapes, or whatever you can find!).  My week there in February was way too short--so hopefully I can schedule another trip in the near future to connect with some dear friends over a longer period of time and get even more connected with some of the music.  By the way, those cliffs are about 50 ft high if I remember right, but it's the deepest lake in Europe, so you can jump off without hurting yourself if you aim for just the right spot. 

As I get ready to head back to LA tomorrow after a short weekend of tour in the Show-Me State, I'm reminded of one of the best things about living in Los Angeles.  But before I get to that, I must get into the origins of that state slogan--I've always laughed at it for some reason, that reason probably being because I didn't understand it.  (Do we always laugh at things we don't understand?)  So after I typed it, I just had to look it up somewhere.  According to Wikipedia:

"Missouri has been known for its population's generally 'stalwart, conservative, noncredulous' attitude toward regulatory regimes, which is one of the origins of the state's unofficial nickname, the 'Show-Me State.' As a result, and combined with the fact that Missouri is one of America's leading alcohol and tobacco-producing states, regulation of alcohol and tobacco in Missouri is among the most laissez-faire in America."

Interesting.  Not sure if "noncredulous" is a word, but new words might be one of the benefits of the shared-knowledge medium. In any case, I must say I've never been carded here, and that answer is good enough for me right now.  I'll probably still laugh at the slogan because I don't totally get it.  (The Wikipedia article also mentioned that one of the past slogans for Missouri was "The Puke State.")  Back to my observations of life in Los Angeles.

From time to time, I hear people in LA talk about how they miss the seasons from back home in whatever part of the world they came from, and how life can kind of flatline in LA with so many days of sunshine, the temperature not varying that much, and things of that nature.  I'm not trying to complain about the number of sunny and warm days in LA, but I do see their point.  However, (and now I'm getting to my "one of the best things") when an Angeleno travels away from LA for whatever length of time and with whatever frequency, he or she will never be surprised at the state of life at home.  There's no snow to shovel off of your car, no flooded basement, no forgotten winter coat or boots to make it home from the airport. 

Things in LA are constant, and I'm not only talking about the weather--the talented and untalented will still be trying to make their dreams come true, the jaded will continue to feel they deserve better than they've received so far, the hopeful will keep pursuing their destiny, the camera-seeking famous will choose a new hot spot to attract the spot light for their evening shenanigans, and the working will sit in their cars and try to resist the urge to have extreme road rage.  When I come back, I know what I'm getting into, and I like that.  Though when it's a longer time that I'm away (a few weeks or a month), I start to notice something else.  These things don't change, but the people I know, they do.  It's usually just an indeterminable change, but you let a little bit of time go by with only a few emails or phone calls to stay connected, and you come back to find a person with a little different sense of humor, a shift in their patterns of social interaction, maybe a deeper sense of self.  At first I feel like my ever-familiar city is betraying me by not remaining the way I left it.  But then I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that even in the seemingly static, seasonless environment of Los Angeles, people grow, change, develop, struggle, and mature, and I find that I like that aspect of life in LA even more.  

It was inevitable, the Engelbert Humperdinck tour is making a swing through Branson, Missouri.  I've never played there with him (not sure if he ever has), but I must say the demographic there would probably be pretty receptive to his show.

Truth be told, I've been to Branson once before.  And...I will say, I may have some nostalgia not only for the Dixie Stampede (picture Medieval Times at a rodeo) but also because it was in Branson where I first saw Napolean Dynamite.  "Back in '82 I could throw a pigskin a quarter-mile...."