CinderBlue, Green Plow Coffee Shop, and, like, Beatnik Poetry

He'd sit on a stool and drone on about a subject which would be the subject of several sequential sentences. Monotone was the music, eyeballs occasionally would stray from the crumpled manuscript to fasten on some object in the far distance, ignoring both the "Like, I'm into it, man!" and the mindless, wordless gaze returning to his.

Discussions on the way out would always have the word "existential" in them, and often.

That was the coffeehouse long before Starbucks. Music was usually singles, strumming an acoustic guitar in great earnestness.

Now Redmond Oregon's own Green Plow Coffee Roasters straddles those extremes with a coffeehouse that takes from Starbucks the idea of very good coffee, stirs in sustainable and eco-friendly requirements for their suppliers, and leaves behind the stainless steel and the tacky "I'm into coffee" tschotschkes. Result? Coffee that tastes good to taste and feels good to drink.

But instead of the lost-soul poet loosing his angst like a cocker spaniel doing its early morning pandiculations, Pat and Mandy have music. Like, f'r instance, oh, maybe, like CinderBlue let's say. (Be it noted: the picture of Lee Barker and his long time guitar playin' compatriot Rex Gatton was taken by Timothy Park. The image of the CinderBlue front line (and back) is from Joe Fettig. Thank you both.)

Ok, ok, it's self-serving to say that. They hired us, we did the job: Full house both times, and we didn't do any morose doggerel and we didn't do any whiny folk songs which one is required to sing with one's eyes closed, especially during the chorus.

So having linked these things up--the history of the coffee house in 1.5 paragraphs, the guilty-as-charged confession of the musician in the pictures, how come then the word "like" appeared multiple times in a sentence and that annoying affectation is back, loud and strong? Is it the coffee house that's the carrier of the virus?

Knowing Pat and Mandy, I think not. They're just enjoying providing the place for coffee, community and conversation, and when that list is expanded to include music, it's, like, way cool. The coolest man. So far plowed out, man. I mean, you know, it's like whoa.

Humility, Arrogance and the Barker Bass

Frank Lloyd Wright said there came a time in his life when he had a choice, and he chose "honest arrogance over humility." Most would grant him this, based solely on his architectural work. It was of his time yet beyond it in its timelessness.

In 2003 Linda and I journeyed to Portland, Oregon (125 miles away) and were gifted with delightful accommodations downtown courtesy of our son, Joel. That night we caught the Max light rail out to the Rose Quarter for a Yanni concert. Big room. Lots of people. Big orchestra, big sound.

Yanni prides himself on the internationalness of his musicians, and that would include bassist Hussain Jiffry from Sri Lanka. We had met him months prior, and in fact spent some time that afternoon with him in Portland. Now we were in his musical presence and he was playing a five string fretless Barker Bass.

After the concert, we walked back to the Max stop, delighting in the crisp fall weather. I was quiet; Linda commented on that. "Hummph," I probably responded. She stopped me, got in front of me, grabbed my sleeves at the biceps and shook me firmly: "Don't you get it?" she said, lips firm, "An instrument you made was just played by a world class bass player in front of thousands of people...and that is happening in cities across America and Canada. Don't you get it? You made that bass with your own hands!"

Humility is a thick crust to break.

The Dodge brothers, early 20th century creators of the car later called the Dodge, were a quiet and surly pair. In the apocryphal story a man walks into their dingy garage and asks, "What's so good about this Dodge Brothers automobile?" to which one sibling snapped, "Ask the man who owns one!" And went back to his wrench.

Einstein knew how fragile his work was. "No amount of experimentation can ever prove me right; a single experiment can prove me wrong."

Comments from the web from Ed Goode, whose custom Barker Bass has been chronicled in prior posts to this blog:

"The quality of construction is perfect, but those of us that play Barker Basses have come to expect the highest quality. This bass does not disappoint in any way! Flawless, and I truly mean that in its most literal sense .... not a blemish to be found on her.

"...in the several hours I have played it at home it lives up to exactly what you'd expect from a Barker. Great sustain, deep lower end and a clear, well-defined tone on the C string."

I can hear the words but sometimes I can't internalize them. Other days, yes. Today.

Dag Hammerskjold: "Never, 'for the sake of peace and quiet,' deny your own experience or convictions."

That is a very nice bass, Mr. Goode. Very nice. My hands to yours; play it in good health.

High Desert Swap Meet, Part 5: The Unusual Things Which Followed Me Home

Of course I spent some money. This is most definitely a Hunt and Gather expedition, and to return home to the cave without something of a trophy nature would be counter-masculine.

The small brass hinged Object of Great Mystery captivated me from the first view, but I put it down and walked on by. And I came back, and back again, like a persistent cell phone salesperson. I finally dredged up the lucre, and now I own the conundrum. What the heck is it? John Grey was proud enough of this design to have his name and--we thank you John--his profession cast into each and every one. But precisely what it did in that craft is beyond me. Your questions and theories are welcome, and there are a few more detail photos available if you desire them via email.

The second purchase had no mystery about it--a prop blade is a prop blade. Come to think of it, there was but one, so you might ponder where the sibling or siblings are. But no matter. Leaning up against a table, it presents a casual but not engaging presence.

Stand it on its hub, however, and it becomes instant art, 42 vertical inches of organic, graceful surfaces poised to slice the negative space, and that is what made this aluminum piece no kin to the brass: I was not leaving that booth without owning the blade.

It is on a table in the living room. The long term plan is for its own pedestal, either tabletop or floor, and therein would be some machinery which will cause it to rotate, slowly and randomly.

Years ago a musician friend here purchased a Paddi Moyer sculpture titled "Rain." It was essentially a bronze of a male Native American's head, but it was solidly in the category of art. He mounted it on a turning table in his living room, and as you rotated it, it would evoke different emotions. That experience taught me that three dimensional art benefits from various points of view.

The motor seems like a fun alternative to the slightly impractical pedestal-in-the-center-of-the-living room scenario.

The semi permanent home of the brass fur designer widget has not been determined at this writing. Perhaps John Grey will read this post and comment.

Ed Goode's Six String Stellartone Barker Bass Project

We have no English word equivalent to the German "schadenfreude" (taking joy at others' troubles). Likewise we have no word for looking backwards and taking pleasure in what you did to get to where you are.

There are three parts to the joy of this project. First has been the association with Ed, the client, who is a bassist out of New Jersey. You can see some wonderful images of him playing on that site, as well as a detailed chronicle of the progress of this project.

The second look-forward-to-every-day part was the newness of the concept. What if, Linda and I had wondered, someone sent me a bass (guitar) that he or she liked, and I converted it to a Barker--same electronics, same neck, just the upright playing position and all the benefits that offers.

Obviously cosmic forces intersected: Ed's desire to move beyond his 5 string Barker to a 6, along with our interest in giving this process a try. The newness, the headscratching, the 3am insights, the doubling back to make sure that the next forward step was as unencumbered as possible--all these dispense oodles of endorphins from head to hands.

And the third part was getting a glimpse into the world of extended range basses. I know some players: Stew McKinsey and Gregory Bruce Campbell and Edo Castro, for example, and Fred Bolton of McMinnville, Oregon, who makes basses for the likes of these guys.

The thinking here led me into questions relative to, "when does a scooter become a motorcycle" and "when are heavy hors d'oeuvres actually a meal." It would seem that adding a 5th string to the long-accepted four of the bass was ok. Adding overdrive doesn't change the carness of a car.

But adding a sixth required not only a different player approach to the instrument but also new nomenclature. "Six String Bass" approaches the "Fourth Trimester" category. So now we have ERB: Extended Range Bass. Fair enough. And I'm honored to have been let through the gate and onto the range as an ex officio observer. I can't claim a place in the luthier's corral yet, but my boots prove I've been close.

Looking back, I embrace the three joys of the process. Nominations for a word to express that are welcomed!

High Desert Swap Meet Redmond Oregon part 4: Rat Rods and the Pendulum of Style

The beginning of hot rods, 1950: make it faster. The next step: make it original.

If you were in the first group, you spent your time under the hood. In those days, if you were dealing with an inline 6, you could actually stand on the garage floor, butt against the inside of a front fender, and be up close and personal with valves, carburetion and the conducting of high amperage spurts of electrical energy.

Second group? You know sandpaper, you know mallets and dollies, Bondo, primer, more sanding, masking, masked up, and the ultimate joy of wheeling her out into the sun for the first real look. You would see a part on an Oldsmobile and imagine how it could be blended into your Ford, and then go home and by golly do it.

I was a-fringe of all this my high school years, never having the resources for my own vehicle but enjoying riding shotgun with Jan, and Hank, and Ken.

The 90 weight lube and lacquer thinner didn't make it to my bloodstream but I did follow hotroddom through the years as a casual observer.

When they got to jacking up one side of a car at a car show and sliding a mirror under it to show the virginal perfection there, they lost me. It wasn't about go, it wasn't about how it looked to the girls as we cruised by and it ceased to be about clever adaptations of truck parts to car or converting three taillights on one side to sequential performance. Instead it was the manifestation of an obsessive compulsive disorder applied to the connections between shock absorbers and axles and the absolute perversity of chrome run amok.

Enter the Rat Rod. As I have drifted ever closer to the outward marge of the periphery I have not been able to chronicle the pendulum hitting Side Dead Center with a clang and subsequently breeding, on the antipode, the Rat Rod.

Functional, clearly done with a budget, joyously free, untouched by any kind of perfectionism and unequivocally devoted to the absolute independence of the creator, these machines are singing their siren song on a specific frequency. At last: hot rodding accessible to Everyman.

The images show several of them from the Swap Meet of September 2009, Redmond Oregon. I celebrate their existence, their presence, their uniqueness and sometimes, idly, wonder just how much money and how much welding it might take to get on board.

Cayford's Barker Bass: Graphtech Ghost, Stellartone Tonestyler Upgrades, Part 1

Some owners of the Barker Bass have described the tone as "more of everything." One argument might be to keep it pure: "No fads or fancy stuff" as one advertiser used to say. The other argument is, why not make it better? To start with something that good and add enhancements might just be an exponential improvement. That was Cayford's line of thought as we pondered the possibility of adding the Graphtech Ghost which is a set of peizo pickups individually contacting each string via saddles in the Graphtech bridge, stock on the Barker B1 four. Why not, then, add the Graphtech Acousticphonic preamp? All it would take is a little room in the electronics bay and a battery case somewhere on board--and that is an easy assignment on a Barker.

This peizo process requires some excavation below the bridge, noted in the photos above. These tiny, individual wires are routed to the electronics cavity and joined on a summing board, thence to the preamp.

The battery requirement is nine volts, but having had a bad experience with a battery failing mid-gig, I always suggest a double case with only one battery wired in so there's a fresh spare on board. Cayford agreed to that. The case goes on the back, out of sight.

Then came that almost-predictable moment: Hand on chin, thoughtful, he said, "Hmmm, as long as we're at it, why not add the Stellartone Tonestyler too?" Great idea. I'm a vocal exponent of this elegant and practical addendum to any passive bass.

This required a fourth knob now--the only external suggestion to an audience viewer that he's not playing a stock Barker B1.

Shop mission is accomplished, and the bass is back to Cayford at this writing for his installation of the electronics. We'll do a followup interview and post it down the line. Whether it's a nuanced improvement or trumpet-fanfared Innovation of the Century remains to be seen. And heard. The delight is in the team effort and the possibility of yet another way the Barker claims its place among unique electric bass instruments.

High Desert Swap Meet Redmond Oregon part 3

Living in the United States between world wars and having a fascination with two and four wheel transportation: Now there's a First Wish that would be followed by a request for the genie to put away the magic bottle! One of the darling little ideas to reach fruition in the mid-teens was the Auto Red Bug. It went through some parent company changes, and existed in two distinct models: One, an electric motor harnessed to wet-cell batteries in the metal box behind, and the other, a small one-lung internal combustion plant that traveled sidesaddle with the wheel it drove--which dangled off the back like a crazy-wheel trailer of the fifties!

When, that lovely September Saturday morning in 2009, I saw this work of art in the images above, I knew what the creator had copied. It was not for sale--the vendor had just bought it himself. While it appears the dimensions are true to the original, the workmanship was clearly an exquisite one-off effort by someone who knew her or his way around a machine shop.

The power plant idea was kin to the fifth wheel noted above, but seemed more like the result of an AHA! moment when the anonymous creator spotted a Honda Trail 90.
That tall stud on the back? It just fits into a HT90 after you remove the front fork and wheel. The controls link up seamlessly, and you're on the road in your snappy little cyclecar, living the good life promised by the end of the War to end all Wars and freed from the waning days of the Edwardian era.

Knickers and Argyles. Gibson Girls. It all seems like simpler times.