RAGE

  It's the 'holiday' season. Ideally it's a nice thing, time to go be nice to each other, be with family and all that good stuff. But, let's be honest. It's always been a time to express our petty horrible side as well. It's descended into competitive spending, blaming this group or that group on the de-Christianization of our society leading to a call to boycott the mermaid coffee joint, an opportunity to be rotten to one another on the subway. I ain't gonna lie to you, I really don't enjoy this time of year. At best I have the opportunity to stay at home and create cause it's cold outside, I know the change of season is actually good for me. I also am presented with ample opportunity to transcend the horror show and be kind to strangers, offer my seat and help a homeless fellow cross the street.

  This week it's Thanksgiving. I'm realizing how much I'm dreading it. Oh, before any musical performance my mind goes to a very negative place. "No one is going to be there, no one cares, I suck yadda yadda" but then I show up and I'm often surprised by how well things go. But this week I feel full of dread. I'm realizing I treat seeing my people like a performance. Maybe I've been performing my whole life? In music at least I get to be honest and vulnerable. Off stage I'm just plain scared.

  If it's hysterical it's historical I've been told. I've been taking actions over my addictions this fall so maybe I'm just more open. That chill in the air stirs up some ugly feelings. It's like when I'm looking for a place to live and people tell me "that's a chill neighborhood, it's a family neighborhood". All I want to do is run. "So which neighborhood isn't the family neighborhood? Where do all the freaks live?" That's where I feel safe. I associate this time of year with Druncles and creepy religious people making efforts for me to get in line. I have a neighbor downstairs who lives alone. He's a musician. When he had family visit recently there was the grumpy man arguing with his grumpy wife. Yesterday there was a scream fest in that apartment. I haven't heard that in a while. Can be quite triggering. So with my history it's no wonder I struggle with this time of year. I hate seeing and hearing people fight. My last girlfriend had a traditional streak in her, and she wanted the argument. That felt, old. I'm not ready for old! The holidays and all that religion feels so, old. Old and cold. Fit in boy! Fit in so you can be, old..... Ick.

  A few weeks ago I was sitting with a friend I've known for a long time. We aren't tight, we just have run in the same musical circle for the last 2 decades. We were having a a discussion about being the outsider. She's Jewish and spent time as a child in Germany. I am who I am, not belonging to any race, religion and as of these days, feeling rather stateless and homelandless as well. We talked about living in between. For me it was between black and white and dealing with cruelty and pettiness from both camps. The Asian kids weren't exactly kind as well. So my friends tended to be Jewish kids whose parents weren't that good at being Jewish, and my friends who were white with an adopted black and Vietnamese younger brother. No, that family didn't church it up either. I pretty much hung out with kids that didn't have churchy parents. The churchy kids, be they black, white, Jewish, Indian or whatever, were just not as nice.

  So my friend says to me "I've always seen you as and angry person Jef" to which I replied "Oh thank God you did! Thank god someone did!" I felt such relief in that moment. Someone could see through my Obama people pleaser side. See it for what it is: survival. Or maybe, bullshit. Mediocrity. Yuck. It's nice to know I have that kind of love accessible to me. She didn't run away or judge me, just told the truth about her experience. Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow!

  She then asked me if I have found a way to channel that rage. Yes, it's been with me all along. Music. But I've also been channeling it in other creative ways too. Anger can be fuel. Something my last girlfriend tried to get going, I just wasn't down with being trained so I left. But I'm glad she gave me that bit of crumpet. I do feel less afraid of my rage. And I am booking more shows, solo shows, group shows. Life is getting shorter and this fire needs to go somewhere. It needs to be passion.

  My life is good. So why all the rage? Well, there are plenty of things to be angry about. Look at our stupid presidential race. It's okay to be a grumpy shouting caucasian like Trump or Sanders, but if our president shouted he would never hold that office. People would have felt threatened. Can you see that? It's pretty simple and pretty obvious. For me to be the angry mixed guy becomes it's own stereotype. I never felt free to express that side of me. Carson put his rage in his past with all that 'stabbed someone' jive. Oh, come on. Please tell me the truth. That's enough to make anyone angry, all that lying.

  We all have our own bondage. Our own reasons for suppressing and depressing. We all have our own rug to sweep our feelings under. So yeah, my life is really good, but I can't discount my own feelings.

  I ran into some old friends who mentioned what an inspiration I was back in my youth. Telling me about how passionate my guitar playing was and all and my reply was "thanks, perhaps it was, but I feel like I was just drunk and lying to you in those days". A performance was a performance, just that. It's only been recent where it feels like reality. I got asked to do a reunion show and haven't said yes or no yet. Though now it's obvious: No. The band was locally successful, 3 years of an ego trip that made a lot of people happy. But I was miserable then. The whole thing felt mediocre. I watched other bands around me express themselves so fully. We were hiding something deep. I don't like memory lane. I have a responsibility to the present.

  I was asked by another fellow the same question about making some music again. This was a band that got international recognition right as I was leaving. Hell no, can't do it. I watched us get more shut down, try to please more people, become passionless and the audience grew and grew. That freaked me out.

  But again, I have a responsibility to the present. I make much better music today than I did then. It's only cause I'm no longer afraid to burn. I was a scared young man then. That fear of my own feelings could have killed me. It's kept me broke and leading a mediocre existence, thank god I never got into substance, but looking back I'm just baffled at this: Why is it all so scary? Why was I taught to be afraid of my own rage? Or better yet, why was I taught to hide it? If I can transcend all this I have nothing left to be afraid of. If I can own this wound, it is a gift I can share. A gift I can help others with. I can love better if I'm okay with it. I can not fall into the mediocrity trap again so easily.

  And for todays sounds, my music makes me terribly uncomfortable. I know I'm in the right place cause uncomfortable isn't stuck. Uncomfortable is opportunity. It just keeps getting better and better. I don't care if I turn you on or off. It's indifference I'm not down with. I never want to hear "it's okay, it's fine" again. Better to hear "it's effin great!" or "I hated it and here's why!!!". Then I know I'm doing my job as a human here on Earth the right way.


Fire baby, fire.....

  JB

Best Conversation I've ever had

   The other day I was giving a guitar lesson to one of my students, an 11 year old girl who doesn't seem to care much about her talent. Doesn't matter what I show her, she just plays it back right away flawlessly then moves on to the next thought. I think we were playing "Keep You" by Wild Belle.

  "How many million are in a billion? One hundred? Or on thousand?" She asked.

  "I suck at math, but I think one thousand, cause I hear people on TV say one hundred million."

  "Oh. That's a lot of numbers. 7 Billion people on the planet. That's a lot of people."

  Yes, it is...

  "If they took one eyeball from each person, do you think they would all fit in this room?"

  Um, no. Not even close.

  "How many corpses do you think would fit in this room? 500?"

  No, if someone really knew what they were doing, maybe 100.

  "I think way more, probably at least 300"

  I'll split the difference. 150?

  "If everyone on Earth were a corpse, would we take up the entire Mediterranean?"

  That's a good question. Perhaps, but I don't know......

  All this with such a look of delight on her face. Not one bit of moroseness. I haven't seen the Great Wall of China, made a million dollars or had any success as an artist, but I did have this conversation and that kinda makes up for a lot of it. Children can be so naturally psychedelic. An adult would need drugs to come up with this, but a kid, not needed. And now I'm thinking about such matters....and I'm grateful.

  Time to go write a song!

JB

Past, present and future

  I just noticed something in my meditation this morning. My mind loves future fantasy and loves the past. There is no drama in the now as I sit in my bed writing this. Even with my eyes closed my mind drifted off to the future, writing this blog post. "Ooh, here's what I shall write! Zzzzz".

  And the second my mind wanders off I can feel myself sleep. I'm struggling a bit with exhaustion. Mental mostly, some physical. I spend a lot of time working really hard on the past and the future. It's no wonder I'm so tired.

  The past is a nightmare and the future is a dream. Nostalgia is not my friend, it's a bottle of cheap whiskey and I'm a drunk when I go down memory lane. I prefer the fantasy of the future. The future is acid and I'm Timothy Leary or one of those hippies. Still, it's work and it's not particularly useful. The angels that be put me right here, right now for some reason I shall perhaps never know. I can only trust their reasons are good.

  When I have no past and no future, I feel awake. I feel energized. No need for coffee. No need to rush, no need to think, only be and act.

  I'm only writing this to remind myself, the rest doesn't matter.

-JB

Happy birthday Mr. Coltrane

  I was just sitting in my car listening to the end of the John Coltrane birthday broadcast on WKCR. Those of you who live outside of NYC, WKCR ran a 24 hour broadcast of his music.

  Just the last part, I remembered why I got into music. And I realized what inspires me the most about his music. He died at the age of 40. I've outlived the man by 7 years now. I can't imagine what else he could have possibly done with his music. He gave us everything he had. I can only hope I'm living a life close to that. Playing brutally honest music and leaving nothing at home in the safe.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9uJOJgK_LA

Joy!

Thank you! J

Something my Mom and Dan Higgs taught me.

  I leave more shows than I stay to the end. This is for those who do the same. There is an awkward moment I used to feel before leaving. "Oh I don't want to be rude." Or there is just a bit of guilt causing anxiety about being noticed for leaving. After a while on planet Earth I realized life is short and precious. I don't have time to sit and suffer. I've left jazz performances (Charlie Haden amongst others!) that I paid good money to see, I left a play at the big playhouse in Portland I payed to see, I've left countless rock shows, noise shows, electronic shows, shows friends of mine were playing.

  I don't feel bad about it. In fact, it's the kindest thing I can do sometimes. If I'm suffering the vibe I'm giving off, well, the fan next to me doesn't need that. Nor does the performer. And it's kind to myself. It's the highest expression of love I can offer sometimes.

  I was talking to my friend Dan one day and he said this: "I stopped feeling bad when I realized that music has a message, and that when I receive that message I'm free to just go."

  I've left some of Dans performances as well. He understands. When I'm feeling it I'm there. When not I'm going home.

  Tonight was one of those nights. I stayed for about 15 minutes of a band and felt frustrated. In fact the last 25 years of music that seems to be the primary emotion: frustration. When someone is moaning about on stage and I can't understand a word of it, or can't get the feeling they are trying to convey it triggers my own stuck voice. All those things I want to say to someone I love but the words just don't come. Those moments I feel the division our world is suffering from. There is a veil between myself and the performer, or maybe this just isn't my tribe whatever that means. I don't have the answer except, I feel frustrated. And maybe that is the message, at least for me.

  I'm a friend not a fan. How would you rather have me? I heard that one in a discussion I was having about folks who say this: "Ugh I have to go see this band tonight so I can't do the thing I really want to do." Really? You 'have' to? "Yeah well I want to support my friends."

   Lying is not support. And they know it unless they are too drunk to smell a lie. Stay home. Show respect for your loved ones and let their fans sort out a good time.

   There was a period about 12 years ago when the 'Freak Folk' scare of 2003 took place. I couldn't stand it. All those out of tune folks mumbling about with flowered shirts on. For some reason I took it really personal. And it didn't help that I was surrounded by folks who hated it as well. So I was complaining to my mother about it when she just said basically the same thing Dan said: "You remember going to Quaker church years ago and sitting in the silence for an hour. Someone would stand up and speak if the spirit moved them. You might be one of the few that says 'oh man that's the answer! Thank you! That message was for me!' while the rest are thinking 'jeez I wish this guy would shut up, what a wanker!'" Or the opposite may happen.

  A week later I was complaining about the genre to a friend on Mississippi Avenue in Portland when I stopped myself and said out loud: "I don't need to do this ever again! This is the last time I complain about 'freak folk'.

  And things got better. And better and continue to.

  And I got better at tuning it out, walking out of performances, changing stations, owning my choices  and taking care of myself. I got better at expressing love through an honest exit.

  JB
  

Surviving Capitalism

  Any economic, political, spiritual, tribal system is rooted in the idea 'for the good of us all'. I really do think people are doing their best with whatever information they have regardless of whether I agree with their choices or not. And any system causes harm no matter what. Harm to the psyche. Harm to the person who is doing no more than their best to realize their highest self. At one point I held a large capacity for judgement of my fellow beings, but it's obvious to me now that we are all a part of some set of patterns, a system, and we are all damaged by that system. I can see it in myself. How I've judged people particularly those who are doing better than I. Any time I've put someone else down it was merely cause I've been taught to be afraid for them and afraid for myself.

  I'm working on my capacity for compassion these days and it's going well. It's all I really want now. How do I want the rest of my days on Earth to be? I'd rather give away all I have than be stingy and worried about money, love, status etc. Will anyone notice? On my authentic days I could care less. That's the most honest thing I can come up with. To be compassionate and loving is still self interest. The internet troll has no power if I admit this right away.

  I am born and raised in the United States of America. It's a lovely and vast piece of land. No matter how much I lie to myself, I am conditioned so deeply as an American I've had a hard time imagining a better way of life than what I have here. Let's look at the obvious. It's a capitalist society. There are things about that that I've come to enjoy and there is a tremendous amount of damage in myself due to my conditioning. If I were from Russia, Cuba, Germany, Iraq, it would merely be another set of patterns to work with and against to do my best work. I don't blame any particular country or system, in fact at this age I would be foolish to blame anyone or anything for the dis-satisfaction in my life. My eyes are open just enough to see what is going on and I know I have ample options for healing and growth.

  Where is this article coming from? I'm an artist. I'm decent at what I do. I feel I can do much better work but rather spend my time on Facebook or Netflix, or worse yet scurrying back and forth making a 'living', chasing dollars around and seeking approval. I don't like this. I'm at a point where I know it's time for change. It's time, if I'm at all serious about contributing gifts to make a better world, I need to cast off this horrible conditioning.

  Gifts. Now there is the word. I've lived my life as a stingy person. "Where's the money???" It's always about the money. Money money money money money money money! This is what has held be back the most. It's an important subject to think about, but it's been an obsession. It creates more fear than love, sex or status. My relationship to money has kept me from taking any real risk, even when my rent was $200 a month! Kept me from booking that tour, amplifying whatever gifts I have. Years of negative messages from folks conditioned (myself included!!!) by our industrial revolution cookie cutter cog in the machine education come up whenever I book a gig or get closer to competing my album. "Oh you'll embarrass yourself! You may lose all that money! Your rhythm needs work! You aren't as good as John Fahey so who wants to buy this? How dare you?" and the worst of them all: "If you succeed you'll be as much of a sellout/phony/braggart as the guy you've learned to despise!"

  I'm aware of all these things. My conditioning has given that part of my brain ample fuel to resist getting the job done. It's all about being one with the pack. Being in the middle. Invisible.

  My friends who enjoy the most success were generous from day one. Just an observation. Oh, they aren't perfect, just more giving than I've been. And their work connects better as a result. Clear ideas, clear sound, they don't do it for the money. Me? I've always said that I don't do it for the money but, that's always been an issue. And maybe it has been for my friends too. I don't know the answer to this one, I just know that I'm letting go of this toxin.

  I did a solo gig recently. All the resistance showed up in the hours leading up to it. "There'll be no one there, you suck, you'll never make a living at this, give up and let the pros handle it, just fix their amps and get as much money as you can from that, you can earn a 'decent' living from that." From the first note I felt shame. Suicide thoughts. The sound man was checking his text on his Iphone, in the back of the room the couple on a date were looking at the guys vacation photos as he talked about the hiking and stuff louder than my little acoustic guitar. I laughed a little. It's a cruel reality. Steve Jobs has created the crack cocaine of devices and I'm hooked too, though I would never check my email in front of a performer.

  Then the couple quieted. They didn't leave. They listened for a while. Some more folks drifted in. Oh yes, I didn't even announce that I was performing and, well, that is my responsibility. The sound in the little room was fantastic. And for a while I could no longer be Jef Brown, American, capitalist conditioned, depressed guy. I could just be a channel. The artist occupying this body. People came and went and showed appreciation. A really negative mind turned positive not because of the audience, but because it's my spiritual imperative to do my best for me. Best I can hope for is the folks in front of me will dig it. That's it.

  Lately I don't sell my records at shows. I give them away. My capitalist conditioned mind has been really upset about that. I gave a pair to another couple that night and they insisted on paying me. That doesn't happen often but I won't turn down the dollar either. Usually I'm met with guilt. "I can't just take it, I want it but have no money! I feel bad." Well then, just take it. Please take it! For every record gone it makes more room for me so the recipient is physically helping me out. It helps my spirit to have more space in my little apartment. And most importantly, it's out in the world making a small difference in someone else's life. Again if I actually focus on what is important, being more generous, more compassionate, more loving, having a healthier spirit therefore healthier mind and body, than I realize the truth which is all I do is create gifts. I don't need financial compensation for my creative work. I appreciate it but that's not why I'm doing it.

   See, my work and the industrial revolution don't really go well together. It's that simple. I didn't enjoy Berklee College of music cause the focus was on the industrial revolution: "Here is how you become a working musician, by following the rules. Here is how jazz is played properly." When the internet troll left me a snarky comment on a video I was playing in about my sound he was really saying "I feel unsafe because you don't sound like what I've been led to believe a sax player should sound like". Sad for that person. I hear things I don't dig all the time. I w hopefully have never left a comment that can shut someone down. With that knowledge I can move on and keep doing my thing quickly. That poisonous thinking has gone deep into my own mind. It's taken a village to help me find the child I am once again. A village that really gets it. A village that says 'you're doing your thing, go for it!'

   Lordy. Imagine if school were like that! "Whoah kid, that's something I haven't seen before! Keep running with that ball and see where you can take it or where it can take you!"

  For now it's just embracing that child and one day at a time shaking off the oppression of blind capitalism and the culture of conformity. For now it's just remembering why I do what I do and keep practicing the art of giving it away. Practice makes better after all!

J

  

How did I get here? The bottom....

  In 2011 I reluctantly left Los Angeles with my tail between my legs. I had lost my apartment, had no money to get another one together, a $28,000 debt hanging over me that I could no longer manage, my closest friend Barry had just passed away, the job I had was about to become too much for me since I didn't want to solder amps back together 8 hours a day, some mis-understandings happened and I suffered a nervous break. It happened on the night of a performance at the Echo Curio house. And look, it's on video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxyuBDRBus8

  Believe it or not everything felt in slow motion during this performance. Every nerve ending was collapsing into the ether. It was a terrifying feeling. Acid free too. I'm grateful Steven was here to drum the bad spirits into some submission. God knows what would have happened otherwise. (I'm grateful Steven has that moose on his drumhead! I need reminders to not take myself too seriously!)

  The next 3 days I felt numb. I cried in the rain in front of the laundromat. It felt good to have such a release. I didn't know if things would get better or not. The debts hadn't been sold yet to the collectors but that was on the way. I became terrified of my phone. Paranoid. I knew they wouldn't just call me, they would harass my parents in an attempt to shame me into profit.

  I started noticing whenever I got on the freeway, which is the worst place to be in LA, I felt a sense of freedom. A little voice kept saying it's time to go back east. You need to move to New York. So I made that decision. It wasn't difficult either. New York is a great place to get there, LA is for the man who has already arrived. I had a long, long road ahead. It was obvious. So I packed it in. Took me only a few hours to pack the van up. My father and I were to meet in Oregon and drive back to Maryland together.

  When I arrived in Portland I was with my friend Kelvin. It was about 3am and I dropped him off and headed to a friends place to stay. It had been almost a year since I left and I drove through the city slowly just taking it in like the first day I arrived 15 years prior. I saw the new tram tracks, solar buildings. I thought to myself this is one good looking modern city. It's kind of the city of my fathers dreams with all those green buildings going in. Funny. Just a year before I resented change. All that sunshine and fresh orange juice in LA did something to my brain.

  Evolutionary Jass Band had a reunion show at Valentines. It was rainy. There wasn't enough space in the venue for our dear fans. That felt good. We played better than ever that night, with more maturity and space. I'm grateful for that show.

  Leaving Portland this time was even harder than a year before. Leaving all that love behind is no small feat. I just knew I couldn't stay any longer.

  The drive across the country was nice. My dad is up there so it was great to spend time in the van with him. I told him in 6 months I was moving to New York. If I was still in the house in a year they need to throw me out with all my stuff. I told him I love he and mom and they cannot enable me. I know full well at this point I look for enablers, out of love this couldn't happen. At this point he didn't know about my financial mess. It just hurt way too much to say anything.

  Funny. When I lost the apartment Dave Sitek offered me a room in his place to crash. I told him the same thing. I was grateful but couldn't let that happen until some healing was done. I'm ever grateful to him and David Cousin who lives with him. Cousin really helped me keep my sanity by playing 20 games of scrabble a week with me. He was a former debt collector so he prepared me on what to say. I couldn't believe I had rights, which is exactly the opposite of what the debt man wants you to believe.

  When I arrived in Maryland I didn't know what to do. I needed a job but I also couldn't lie like I did to my last boss and get a great job which I would regret leaving. No, I hate letting people down like that. I needed a job where no matter what I did I couldn't feel indispensable. I needed an industrial revolution type job where there are 200 applicants who could do just as well when I leave, a job where I mattered little. And I needed it fast. So I applied to Guitar Center.

  I got the job right away. I knew the store manager and I had friends there. It hurt to act psyched to get the job, I didn't want to be there. I was earning between $35-$75 an hour before, and I just took a job that earned me $7.25 an hour. Those of you who have been through this know the special kind of pain I'm sharing about. It sucks. To earn well at your craft and being freelance you need to be positive. It's really hard to stay positive working for a big corporation after you've felt a sense of autonomy.

  My first day of work I put on my Guitar Center button down and walked to my van. My mom told me I looked handsome and I had this horrible flashback of being 6 years old getting on the bus on my way to my first day of school. Except that I'm not a kid and there is no sense of wonder or fear, just a sense of 'how did I sink this low?' I knew I would get along with most of the folks, and I'm grateful to all of them since they were all great, but I also knew I would be standing on my feet all day, bored, trying to stay sane with an enormous amount of horrific noise around me. I knew I wouldn't fit in to the cult of corporate America as well. Any moment they would see the impostor. I just needed enough money to move to New York. 6 months.

  My mother kissed me goodbye and I cried the whole 27 mile drive to my new job. I screamed in my van in the parking lot. After that, I could be useful. Positive. One of my first clients was a lawyer in his 40's. He wanted to get back into playing guitar. This was his 4th visit. He wanted an Epiphone Les Paul. He had a mini breakdown. There are over 40 versions of that stupid guitar and he couldn't decide what was best for him. He teared up. I put my hand on his shoulder and said 'it's alright man'. I felt useful. A bit more special cog in the machine than I imagined. Guitar Center employees are human too. So are the customers. That was enough to keep me going.

  Somehow things worked themselves out. Little did I know I would play at Carnegie Hall in less than a year from that day. I felt nervous telling the crew I was leaving but I knew they would find someone better for the job fast. The debt collectors started calling, some were drunk! But one little day at a time my fear of them abated. I cease and desisted them until I could make a clear plan. I didn't know this was my right and thanks to my Scrabble partner and a lot of support, I needn't walk in fear and shame.

  Life is better and continues to get better. It's August in New York and for a freelancer this is a tough time to earn a living. But I've learned to manage things better with a lot of help from friends and I'm okay. Best part is just sharing the story, knowing where I came from. Victim thinker to survivor on my way to thriver. And I hope that some of this is useful to those reading.

J

Special thanks to my family, the 2011 Guitar Center crew, Steven, Autumn, Michael Jacob Rochlin, Lon Cohen, the Footes and the Daves. Could not have done this without you. xoj