Cows Don't Float. Neither Do People.

"Houston: We Feel Your Pain. Aug 29, 2011." Those were the words on the lighted sign outside the Rotterdam Junction, NY fire department as I drove from my family's farm in the Mohawk Valley back to my home in the Hudson Valley. From one valley to another. 6 years ago a friend of the family, a fellow farmer, the patriarch of a farm family in the Schoharie and Mohawk Valleys, lost his life driving through standing water to inspect his fields flooded by Hurricane Irene. 6 years ago my brother came home with a look on his face I'll never forget. He spent the day pulling dead cows out of flooded barns. Irene wasn't even a hurricane by the time it got around to knocking on the Northeast's door. That wording didn't matter to the folks in upstate NY, in VT, NH... We were devastated. Six years later you can still see the scars, if you know where to look. And now, the scale of what's happening down south is almost unfathomable, even for those of us who've seen a bit of it before.

This week we announced that Rootstock 2017 will take place on October 1st, right down by the river in Beacon. I've never been prouder of the lineup: this time around, Daisycutter will be joined by The Gibson Brothers, Sloan Wainwright, and The Shockenaw Mountain Boys. I'm honored and humbled to be sharing the stage with such company. The money that we raise will go towards establishing an emergency relief fund for local farmers, to help them keep going in the immediate wake of natural disasters. However, farmers are one big community, joined by our commitment to the land, to growing and feeding our neighbors, and by the soil in our veins. The Northeast farming community knows firsthand the pain and suffering our sisters and brothers in Texas are going through, and our hearts are breaking with them. So in support and solidarity with our fellow farmers in Texas, we're donating at least 10% of this year's net proceeds from the Rootstock festival to flood relief and recovery efforts for Texas farmers. You can get the full details over at www.rootstockfest.org

You can download the song I wrote post-Irene, West of Eden, for free here at Bandcamp. We're also donating all our proceeds from album downloads to Red Cross relief efforts in Texas.

Hang in there, Houston. We know how you feel- and we know how tough farmers (and Texans) are. We're with you, and sending you all our love and support.

West of Eden
- Sara Milonovich c. 2012 (ASCAP)

Driving, dodging the deer and the drunks
Past foundations left in the floodplain so long
Still there waiting where the water put them down
It is just flotsam? Or one more farm gone?

Who do you blame? The corps of engineers?
Or the wind and the rain, the way that they came out of nowhere?
Quench the thirsty downtown- we’ll never know the reason
They left us here West of Eden waiting to drown

Remember the fields in afternoons of amber
Now they’re buried in brown, and I feel like a foreignlander
Not anymore use– just a helpless bystander
Got to stand up for something, better be your neighbor

Neon eye’s focused on wildfires now
Long since forgotten the lead lining inside the clouds
Nothing left to do but wear it with pride as a shroud
It's a bitter drink, just swallow it down

Chorus

The grass has grown up to hide the worst of the scars
The money’s dried up with the mud in the yard
We sang “goodnight” but we’re still waiting for the stars
Could have cut out and run, but we just give up too hard

Chorus
We’re still here West of Eden, waiting to drown.

Farmers: the Only Folks We Rely On 3 Times a Day!

Farming is brave, hard, crazy… like art. Both are often defiant acts of creation. Both are vocation and avocation alike, a calling, a lifestyle. The ultimate DIY. (Farming is pretty punk!) But DIY is even better when it’s DIO (“Do It OURSELVES”.) A tribe of rugged individuals, working together. A community of neighbors, near and far, lending support, whether a cup of sugar, some tractor parts, advice, encouragement, a helping hand, a voice in Washington… And like the granges of years’ past, those communities get together once in awhile for some singing, dancing, eating, drinking, and whooping it up in support of each other. That’s how Rootstock came into being. Much like those grange hall hoedowns, we want to pay musical tribute to the efforts of past and present farmers who have been feeding us and protecting our beautiful land for generations, and raise a ruckus to support the next generation!

Rootstock was founded by two farmgirls: one a roots-rock musician inspired by the vital role of music in social action (if you guessed it was Yours Truly, you guessed right!), the other a sustainable farming advocate, trainer of young farmers, and lawyer. Our goal- to raise awareness and support for the young farmers making a go of it in the Northeast, and the special challenges they face. To do so, we've partnered with two energetic, dedicated advocacy organizations, each addressing a unique challenge facing young farmers, with all ticket proceeds from the kickoff Rootstock concert split between them.

National Young Farmers Coalition represents and supports young farmers, providing training and a voice in Washington on issues such as debt relief and food policy.

American Farmland Trust is dedicated to protecting farmland and keeping farmers on it, while preserving valuable natural resources like soil and water. Their “No Farms, No Food” movement reminds us that it is farmers and ranchers who feed us and sustain America.

We’re raising the rafters NOVEMBER 27th, 2016, starting at 6 pm, at the TOWNE CRIER in Beacon, NY!

Floodwood, Steamboats, and Daisycutter will be playing our hearts out to support these young farmers- and all of the bands have a personal connection to the upstate NY farming and conservation communities!

3 rockin’ bands, 2 farming advocacy groups, 1 night of music, food, and celebration of local agriculture! We hope you can join us! For more info on the concert, visit www.rootstockfest.org. For tickets, head over to www.townecrier.com.  If you can't join us on 11/27, but still want to contribute, we have a GoFundMe set up to offset some production expenses. You can check it out at https://www.gofundme.com/1st-annual-rootstock. And THANK YOU!!!

Lighten up- It's Spring, after all!

I missed the March blog entry (mea culpa!), but since for many of us, the never-ending end of winter is something we'd rather forget, I'm jumping into April here before that too passes by. For this installment, I had a few directions I was thinking of going in: a discussion on the decline of the middle class working musician; the roles afforded women in music (and resulting stereotypes - whether in traditional music or rock); the economic elephant in the room that is streaming... but since it looks like spring has FINALLY ARRIVED here in the Northeast, I'm going to take the advice of friends and family and "Lighten Up!" At least for the moment. I promise a return to serious, heavy topics next time, but for now, here are a couple of recipes to kick back and relax with!

THE BLACK EYE

This drink is a variation on the classic "Black and Tan" (sometimes known as a "Half and Half"), substituting dry apple cider with black currants for the traditional Pale Ale that's usually at the bottom of the glass. (New York State is producing some excellent ciders these days, in the dry, nuanced style of fine European ciders and beers. I recommend checking out Doc's Draft, Slyboro, Aaron Burr, and many others.) This recipe was inspired by my first trip to Ireland 15 years ago, long before my palate had developed its current affinity for the chewy bitterness of a well-drawn pint of Guinness. As an alcoholic version of "training wheels", I was frequently served a glass (half pint) of stout with a shot of black currant juice in it to smooth out the bitterness. It worked.

THE BLACK EYE

8 oz dry apple cider with black currant

8 oz Guinness stout

Pour the cider into the bottom of your pint glass. Using a bar spoon, SLOWLY (that's the key to successful layering!) float the Guinness on top. You should have two layers: the complex, bitter Guinness on top, and the crisp, refreshing cider on the bottom to chase it. ENJOY. RESPONSIBLY. DON'T BE AN IDIOT.

Now, for something a little more food-like:

SPRINGTIME LEMON HERBES DE PROVENCE SALAD DRESSING

Juice of 2 lemons
Zest of 1 lemon
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 c. olive oil (or more if the lemons are especially juicy)
1 T mild honey, such as clover or wildflower
1-2 T Herbes de Provence
Salt and pepper to taste

In a small skillet, gently heat the olive oil and sauté the garlic until golden. Halfway through sautéing the garlic, add half the lemon zest and the Herbes de Provence. Let cool. In a small jar or cruet, combine the remaining lemon zest, lemon juice, honey, and COOLED olive oil. Add salt and pepper to adjust flavors to taste. Mix well. Serve over your favorite greens, or use as a marinade. The honey mellows out the zesty lemon flavors and the Herbes de Provence (usually a blend of thyme, savory, rosemary, basil, tarragon, lavender, and sometimes fennel) provides a nice herbal kick. Perfect with fresh greens, especially great with chicken!

Now get out there and enjoy the return of warm weather!!!

Observations on Being an Artist. And a Woman. At the Same Time. (NSFW)

Welcome to my blog, a collection of random outbursts, recollections, rants, and the odd recipe! Sit down, pull up a chair, and pour yourself a nice glass of single malt. Then pour me one too, please. Neat. OK, here we go...

<WARNING: language throughout parts of this opening salvo may not be suitable for work or children.>

As a lifelong artist (I started studying the craft of my instrument from the age of 4 and never looked back), image and identity are two concepts pretty deeply entwined with artistic endeavors and the definition of "success" in such (I put it in quotes because this is a pretty fluid and bullshit-filled concept particularly in the music world these days.) If you happen to be a woman and you're thinking, "Hmm, sounds familiar...", well, those two concepts are pretty insidiously anchored in society's take on what it means to be female as well.

When I met my childhood country music idol, Clint Black, years ago as a star-struck fan, he gave me some of the only truly excellent career advice I've gotten. "So, you want to be a professional musician?" he asked. "Yes", I said. "Then you better have a thick skin."

Go out into the world as an artist, and you will get reams of unsolicited advice about what material to play, how to dress, what to say, how to market your product, etc. Some of this will be constructive. Most of it will not.

Go out into the world as a female, and you will get reams of the same bullshit. Very little of this, too, will be constructive. Most is so quietly entrenched that you may not even notice until long after the fact- like those snappy comebacks that always come to you right after the offending person has walked away. Much of this sneaks by under the guise of that lurking bastard : "politeness." To be clear, I absolutely, unequivocally support treating each other as fellow human beings worthy of respect and empathy. To me, that is true politeness. But how many times have we as women been encouraged to not be too loud? To not speak up to ask questions? To not take the lead? To not take up too much space? To not take credit for our accomplishments? To not call out the "compliments" that are meant to demean, to possess, to belittle? To say "sorry" rather than "excuse me" as a sentence opener- when we haven't actually done anything to apologize for?

Go out into the world as a female artist and there's a perfect (shit)storm waiting for you to arrive so it can tell you all the ways you could be doing things "better." More "successfully." More "marketably." (This does not take into account the REALLY blatant sexism in music: the "you play as good as a guy" "compliments", or the assumption that you're just the girlfriend of the guitar player etc. That's for another blog!)

But here's the thing: the outside world does not have any justification to dictate what each person's narrative, identity, or experience is. Everyone's personal narrative is different. And if, as true artists, our personal experiences and narratives are what inform our art (as they should in honest art-making), then the only people truly qualified to comment on that are: OURSELVES. The rest of the world needs to just go off somewhere to shut up; whether it be a suggestion to "smile more" (on the street or on the stage), "advice" on what to wear, or more outwardly successful artists telling the up-and-comers what they ought to do. What worked for one person may have no bearing on another, and the business environment is changing so fast that in the words of investment pros themselves: "Past results do not guarantee future performance."

Here's a petty little example:

Why should I wear a sundress and cowboy boots when performing? They were never part of my personal narrative (except the boots, but only when I was actually working in a barn.) Why should they be now- apart from the fact that they look an awful lot like the "uniform" of the chick roots music singer these days. And that's my problem with it- the whole concept of "uniform." It means "sameness." And I'm even less comfortable with that notion that I am with actually wearing the damn dress. (I'm not all that comfortable in anything you can't hike in.) Now I'm not judging other people's fashion choices. It all comes down to the WHY. If you're wearing a dress and boots onstage because you like it and it makes you feel good, great! That's your narrative. If you're doing it because it's a thing that people who play that sort of music do... well, that's a little awkward. Same goes for the skimpy cocktail dresses and skirts and high heels. If you feel naturally happy in those clothes, excellent! (I'm quite jealous of my friends who do! Because they have way better balance in heels than I do.) But you can't pretend the dominant paradigm isn't one that encourages women to market themselves by appearing a certain way. It's a fine line between "hot girl next door" and "slut" and I don't think women are the ones drawing that line most of the time. And that's troubling.

Take enough daily bombardment of this conflicting (and unsolicited) input, and eventually your ability to tolerate it just plain short-circuits.

The day I was "mansplained" to about "artistic responsibility" from someone whose success was due far more to luck and connections than hard work and actual responsibility (after having watched that person abdicate and delegate much of said work and responsibility) was the day I ran out of fucks to give. Because that was when I realized that little gobshite actually had zero authority over the narrative of my life, my inspiration, and my trajectory as an artist. And that's when I realized that the main reason all this input always feels a bit "off", is because the issue here is with THEM, not with ME. THEY would prefer I smile more, or wear a short skirt, or write a certain type of song, or feel bad about myself if I choose not to.

So next time you run into a woman (in music or society at large), consider that perhaps she's not trying to be "cold" or "aloof" or "angry" or "bitchy." We're just out here doing our thing, trying to be authentically ourselves, and have simply run out of fucks to give.