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Creepy Shanties R Us

For the first time in my life, I’m often surrounded by (and thus having more opportunities to be comfortable around) little kids. It’s cool. Just like big kids (which is to say, grownups), no two are the same. And you never know what music they’ll like.

One of my friends mentioned on Facebook today that her very young daughter knows all the words to one of my creepiest tunes, “Glashtyn Shanty”. “Sailing Song” is its lighter foil, and she also knows that one by heart. It’s interesting to note, though, that she’s not the only very young person in my life who’s given over the light song for the dark one. Another friend’s little boy absolutely adored “Kashkash” and “Heresy of the Lost” for a long time. My own faery godson, Kaius, will drop his shyness and sing “Glashtyn Shanty“, which he calls “Glashtyn Go”, in verrah srs 2-year-old fashion with a whopping roomful of adults at a moment’s notice. I have seen this happen. And felt my heart swell. And grinned a bit, for several reasons. One, I know that if the little ones like a song, I’m definitely doing it right because they rarely hide what they’re feeling. Two, I liked creepy stuff when I was a small child, too (Mussorgsky, Stravinski, “Monster Mash”), and it makes me happy to see little ones grooving on it now.

So here’s one for the creepy kid in us all. This is another collaborative work in progress. It’s a lullaby for Davy Jones, that folkloric ruler of shipwrecks, cousin to Met Agwe and Charon and Neptune and the Reaper him/herself.

Nobody cares for you Davy m’lad

Nobody loves Davy Jones Davy Jones.

Forever you captain the souls of the dead

In your galleon built out of bones, of bones

Your galleon built out of bones.

In Memory and Joy: The Ballad of Laurelei

On my birthday in 2012, my friend Mark Lewis, master storyteller, sent me a very special gift.

It arrived in my Gmail inbox.

It was a long ballad, composed by Mark, which he said was mine to do with whatever I wished.

At the time, I was at a small birthday gathering in Redmond, WA, with members of the Lost Girls Pirate Academy. We were having a coloring party at Soulfood Cafe, decorating custom pillow cases for the children’s hospital. I asked the pirates’ permission to share my treasure, and they listened eagerly.

With Mark’s blessing, I soon added my own flair to the words, adding a verse here and there and editing the rest but barely, and turned the piece into a song. We were able to perform it together the following summer in Eugene, Oregon, with the help of the wonderful Betsy Tinney and her cello skills. Mark played bass recorder on stage with us, all unscripted.

Yesterday evening, I found out about Mark’s death. It happened two days ago. He was sixty years old, and I had heard from him that same day, confirming that he had agreed to be at a festival with me next August. My memorial post is here, and the beautiful community memory website is here. Faerieworlds photographer Byron Dazey has compiled his best photos of Mark, where you can see his great heart shining out like a star in every single shot.

Everywhere online, in the wake of Mark’s passing, bright souls are generously sharing their best memories and photos of him. The joy cannot help but trump the grief, such was his magic and the strength of his giving and willingness to connect with anyone and everyone he met. I’ll take a turn now and share the first of two songs that Mark and I were working on together. I am so glad to have had the chance to create something with him at all. I miss him, and I can’t wait to get this song recorded. I hope and trust that he’ll be proud.

The Ballad of Lauralei (Nothing Lasts Forever)

by Mark Lewis & S. J. Tucker

Far away in another time

When worlds were young and fair

In a village by the sea there dwelt

A lass with auburn hair.

Her beauty was known for miles around

Her eyes were bright and green

Her figure fine and face sublime

Like none had ever seen

She came to wed a fisherman

A rascal, old and grim

None in the land could understand

What drew the girl to him

She cooked his meals and kept his house

And cared when he was ill.

Hers was all the sunlight

His, the dark and chill.

She played her part like all the rest,

the women and the wives.

We loved our town beside the sea

and kept our quiet lives.

We knew she came from far away,

but none of us would pry.

We came to know her and to name her

Little Lauralei

Time was I called her dearest friend

and often I would spy

a secret dancing in her smile,

a twinkle in her eye.

Storytellers Never Die

This post is in memory of my friend Mark Lewis: storyteller, father, mentor, teacher, magic-maker, myth-maker, memory-maker.

photo by Sandra Buskirk

Over the past few hours, since I heard the news of Mark’s passing, I’ve spoken on the phone and online with many other people who are dear to me, all of them mutual friends of Mark’s and mine. We make a pretty vast and bright constellation of stars, all of us together. I have been wishing for a portkey, one that we could all grab onto, that would bring us to the same fire circle tonight, where we could all sing and share and tell stories about this wonderful man who touched our lives.

In Mark’s company, I have been a fae creature, a performer, an Auror, a queen, a mermaid, an Actor, a Lost Girl, an accomplice, an improvisational accompanist, and an audience member. None of those experiences were less than incredible and sweet, and I treasure them all.

photo by Yona Appletree

I look around me online tonight, at all of my friends and acquaintances who knew him, and at friends I’ve not yet made as well- others who have had their lives changed by the words and wit of this dear man. We are a lucky bunch, indeed. What better proof that he led a full and fascinating life could there be than this- the madcap, marvelous, mischievous people who honor him tonight? I’m sure that he must be proud. I hope his wife and daughters will be proud, too, once their time of grief has been honored and allowed to conclude.

This is the way it ought to be when someone dies, when anyone dies: that we can all look around at each other and see the good in each other’s eyes that that person has done. All those who love that person, shouting to the skies how much good and magic he brought to them. All of us coming together to remember, and with such joy, despite our tears. I hope we can all do so well as Mark has done. I miss him. My love goes out to all of those who are also missing him tonight, and who will keep missing him for the rest of their days. What a wonderful family we are. My heart’s not big enough to hold how wonderful it is, to know that we are all united in our memories of Mark- as my sweetie Ryan said, the Mark mark upon our hearts.

Visit the memorial page.

Video Links, Current Events, Comfort, Joy

I’ve uploaded parts Two and Three of the SidheHaven Full Circle concert! The audio is sub par, and I apologize. We salvaged what we had from the live stream archive. It’s a relief to me that we had even that to work with, because Bekah and I found out in the middle of the event that the Concert Window service had had a major breakdown. Now, everybody who missed the last 45 minutes of the concert in realtime can see it. 🙂

We live in the future. It’s not all concerts and perfect roses in the dead of winter, certainly not in recent weeks. I have the luxury of taking time to appreciate the things that make me happy. Many, many other people don’t have that right now. Thousands of citizens across the globe are putting their lives at risk in protest of police brutality. Family members of murdered men and women are mourning lost loved ones right on top of the holiday season. Mothers are watching their sons’ and daughters’ martyrdom, or else their notoriety and demonization, grow in significance at an astonishing rate. Before our very eyes and under our hands, the shattered pieces of so many broken systems are growing sharper and more deadly. Anger grows, but with it, awareness and willingness to make change.

For my part, I am working to become the right sort of ally as fast as I can. I am keeping my mouth shut so that other voices more relevant to the struggle than mine may speak, and I am listening as hard as possible. Praying, in my own witchy way, for those in pain. Appealing to the deities of justice, change, and healing. I am not on the front lines. I hold great respect and concern for those who are. May courage be rewarded. May those of us who are left in the further future be graced with good sense and compassion. May we continue to learn. May we be better, in all sorts of ways, at all sorts of things.

I might be better off putting the following in a separate post, because it’s a total 180. But it’s as en vogue on the internet to share photos of your cat as it is to share strong opinions.

So here’s Pooshka.

Pooshka is a longhaired black mackerel tabby of indeterminate breed, and he’s about four years old. I am his, and he is mine. We’ve only known each other for a short time. He is perhaps the most affectionate cat I’ve ever met, though he is capable of withholding snuggles until after forgiving me for having gone out on the road for weeks and weeks. He’s not perfect, none of us is, but he makes up for his mistakes (“Sooj, check it out, I found this mouse! Look at it go! Oh, huh. It got away behind the bookshelf. Hm. I gotta wash my toes.” “Ryan, are you working on the deck? Whatcha doing? OMG ACK THIS STUFF IS STICKY I MUST RUN BACK INSIDE AND ACROSS THE CARPET NOW”) by earning his weight in stress relief and companionship. He often joins me in my little recording studio while I’m working, and his manners in that workplace are nigh impeccable. He has only once interrupted a vocal session to add his own two cents. Most of the time, he warms my lap while I am mixing a project, purring to beat the band, or else he naps on the armchair near my altar shelf.

I learned just recently that if I wrap him up in a blanket on a cold day, on the couch or the bed, he’s likely to stay there. Even when I leave him behind to go elsewhere in the house or on the property, to do things which don’t involve petting him. Boyo’s got his priorities straight.

So, apropos of nothing other than comfort and joy, have some photos of my snugglebug partway in and out of his blanket this morning. On the couch, exactly where I left him last night. Captions welcome. 🙂

Full Circle, first part posted!

This is good and long. There are three parts, and they’re all about an hour in length. I apologize for the truly terrible audio quality. 🙂 We salvaged what we had from the live stream cameras.

This first part of the concert footage contains Sherry’s introduction, Betsy’s concert set, Bekah’s concert set (plus her surprise guest, her brother Ryan Kelso), and brilliant ASL interpretation by Autumn and Jenny of Dancing Hands Productions.

Thanks to everybody who helped out at the show, everybody who came to listen, all who lent Sherry your support, and everyone who listens!

Fly Away Home

The sun is coming up in Seattle as my partner and I wait to board our flight home. We’ve had another wonderful visit with friends and fans in the PNW. It’s been a pretty exceptional reunion up here, and we’ve got several more of the same sort planned at home in the South as the holidays continue. Color me happy.

I got a chance to play music with Bekah Kelso, Betsy Tinney, Ryan Kelso, Sunnie Larson, Clint McCune and his buddy Aaron, Geli Wuerzner, and Sharon Knight & Winter, all in the same trip. I’ve linked those artists and their fabulousness if you want to start clicking and checking them out. Some of our collaborations were planned, others were entirely spontaneous, and all were delightful for me, and I suspect for just about everybody else who was in the room at the time. Thank you, bandmates, fans, family and friends!

If you were not in the room during our big concert on Nov. 22nd, and especially if you were watching the live stream when it failed, keep an eye on my Youtube channel – I’ll be posting the archived video from the live stream (including the songs in my set that didn’t get broadcast at the time!) over the next few days.

Love, Food, Gratitude – a totally intentional rhyme

Thanksgiving week was all over extremes for me, but they were useful ones.

Just after the big SidheHaven concert, my final scheduled show of the year, our hostess Sherry packed me and Bekah and the boys and herself off to the seaside for a two-day retreat. Almost as soon as we got ourselves situated in our little vacation house, I pulled a muscle in my lower back- something I’ve never done.

All of you who deal with chronic back pain, or chronic pain of any sort? Respect.

I have been physically incapacitated very few times in my life, and so I have next to no practice at it.

So there I was, on the floor, suddenly, unexpectedly and completely dependent upon my friends. And of course they stepped up. Especially Bekah, who’s seen me at my worst more times than I can count, took extra time to love on me, despite having her hands full of and with the adorableness that is two-year-old Kaius.

I had a moment the next morning, after a blessed Tiger Balm enabled nap, when I turned my head on the pillow and saw a tugboat crossing the Sound – I felt like a girl in a story who’d been sent to the seaside to convalesce.

My condition is much improved today, despite tweaking whatever nerve got pinched AGAIN last night after our big group dinner, but I would not have made it back to sitting up straight in a chair without the people who care about me.

On my wee scale, it’s been a week of epic love, epic gratitude, epic food, and unexpected crappy pain.

But I am blessed to have hundreds and hundreds of incredible people in the world with me, and I am blessed to have their love and affection, as well. In the midst of turmoil and justifiable unrest, I feel that I’m standing strong. This is almost entirely because of the people I personally love and trust.

I got to make an absolute vat of fluffy mashed potatoes for about thirty of my favorite people yesterday. I got to share and witness statements of deep gratitude, I got to feast, and I got to help clean up. And when my little injury made it necessary for me to just sit down, two of my heart-brothers immediately sat down with me, checked on me, and held my hands.

This is how my community rolls, and we are Not in the norm.

I wish that we were.

Welcome Home, now with visual!

Audience member Deb Alverson got a pretty great video of our first performance of the “Welcome Home” song last Saturday. Here it is!

That’s Bekah singing next to me and playing djembe, Betsy on cello on my other side, and Bekah’s brother Ryan Kelso playing his pretty cajon drum.

Thanks to everyone who played and sang, everyone who watched and sang, and everyone who shared with me this last concert on my schedule for 2014. Definitely feels like I’ve gone out with a bang!

Welcome Home!

Last night’s relaunch concert for SidheHaven and its community near Olympia was 100% divine. Bekah Kelso and I wrote a new song together for the occasion, and our first-ever performance of it last night was verrrrrry well received. We’re working to get it recorded now. Please enjoy the lyrics for the time being. Thanks to last night’s crowd for a brilliant debut, and thanks to Betsy, Ryan Kelso, Autumn and Jenny for adding their own mojo to this new piece at a moment’s notice!

WELCOME HOME (the SidheHaven song)
Lyrics/music by SJ & BK 2014

Drive through the tunnels of green ’til the pavement ends
Where you can’t see the lights of the city when darkness descends
Under the watch of the mountain, we make our way
Let out your laughter and offer it up to the Fae

Weavers and dreamers out under the stars
Walking the mystery right where we are
Follow the firelight, follow your heart
Know you belong here, right from the start

Welcome home
Let the magic happen
Here we stand
In our own backyard
Hand in hand
Oh we started something
Bless this land
Let your heart recharge
Well, Welcome home

An Easy Autumn Tune

I’m home tonight in my little backwoods retreat, under bright November stars. All of my friends are doing amazing things (WindyCon, I’m looking at you), and I am only now recovered from last week’s FaerieCon East, which was delightful. Sharing the stage with Betsy on cello, as in all the best of my dreams, and with new friend and drummer Ken Om Crampton, was soul-filling and heart-lifting. I am so glad to know those two, and their friendship will help me get through my no-touring Holidays time, when I’m hunkered down, visiting family and finishing new song mixes at home.

I spent some time tracking a new song yesterday and today, my first recorded collaboration with Bekah Kelso since the Ember Days film score. Bekah is incredible, and you should absolutely support her newest project, Bekah Kelso & The Fellas, based in San Antonio. They recently blew up the San Antionio Music Awards for the second year in a row, and little wonder. The song I got to write with Bekah this fall is a tribute that ties in nicely with the next bit of news on my list. It’s a theme song for one of our favorite places. Read on.

My last scheduled performance of 2014 is one week from tonight in Washington state, and it’s gonna be a killer- I’ll be sharing stage time with Bekah, Sunnie, Betsy, Sharon, Winter, and Marcos. This’ll be the first time this particular group of all of us has ever done a concert all together, and the cause is absolutely one to celebrate. Thank you, Sherry, for bringing us all home to Sidhehaven once again! See my tour page for more info.

It’s been a big week in the news. Entirely justifiable unrest and struggle continues in Ferguson, Missouri. Walmart employees have initiated their first sit-down strike ever. The latest round of US elections came and went, and we’re all still here. We now know that it’s not only possible to land on a comet, but also to hear that comet singing.

And in news which will surprise no one at all, I am the Firebird.

Firebird’s Child by Kirk Lanier Photography

Also a faun and a hawk and a general shape shifter fairytale kinda girl. Many thanks to Kirk Lanier for putting me in front of his lens again!

Faun Sooj by Kirk Lanier

Shape Shifter Sooj by Kirk Lanier