The Shamanic Powers of Felsen

AG thought it was about time I write an entry in the blog for all of you. Me too. I have been singing and dancing my ass off in this band now for the funnest year and a half of my life. While some people think I joined in protest that there were no women represented, and others suspect I am here for the workout, neither of those are right. Far from it.

2013 Spring   Andrew and I were in a band together- we both played for Scarth Locke. Scarth and I are long time friends and collaborators, and I was the newest edition to his band. I sang backing vocals and Andrew was Scarth's drummer. When Andrew had mentioned he had his own band, I went to check it out. You know, support my fellow bandmate, get to know each other...it was the polite thing to do.  

I arrived at the Brick & Mortar. Felsen took the stage. Was it the way Andrew bullied his audience with so much affection, or the oddly catchy geek-rock vibe? Or was it the way that Dylan swung his arm around and and then made the sign of the cross before playing some of the maddest riffs I've ever heard? Was it the giant bunny that suddenly appeared halfway through the set? Or was it when Andrew jumped off the stage and planted his mic stand right in the middle of the crowd, and sang straight into their faces.  I thought, "What is going on here?" 

Late Summer  I had been opening for Scarth with a few of my own songs, backed by Scarth and his rhythm section: Andrew, and Peter. Scarth kicked me out of the nest. "Time to have your own band. Then we can book club gigs together."  Andrew and Peter both agreed to back me, as did Scarth. Same band, different hats. One day, neither Scarth nor Peter could make it to my rehearsal. Andrew and I met anyway, and put together some acoustic versions of my songs— him on guitar, me on vocals.  It was magic. We decided to have me learn backing vocals for a couple of his songs too. I got to work listening to Felsen’s new album, I Don't Know How To Talk Anymore, learning two Felsen songs.

Fall  Andrew sends me a message. “Wanna sing with me at the Red Devil Lounge?" It was one of their last shows before closing. I had never been there. ”What song? I asked.  “Heaven,” he said, “by Talking Heads.”  Are you kidding me? One of my all time favorites. “YES.” We got together to rehearse. We sang Heaven, and the two songs I had been learning from I Don't Know How To Talk Anymore.  Then he said, "let's sing the whole album.” I told him I didn’t know the whole album, just those two songs. He said, “I bet you do.” Sure enough, I knew the entire thing, and almost all of the harmonies. How did that happen? 

Winter We all drive to Portland. Felsen had a gig lined up, and Scarth and I had an open invitation from friends to come play at their house. I joined Felsen for a full set, first time, 20 minutes after they arrived, their rented SUV caked with ice. Scarth and I had come up the day before, and just beat the storm. No one except our own handful of friends showed up at the club. The whole city, snowed in, except for us up there. I was nervous. And Andrew’s guitar was having electrical problems. Not pretty.

The next afternoon, we load into the space we had rented for our triple bill that night- Scarth Locke, Dara Ackerman, and Felsen. It was a tea room in a converted warehouse. Bigger than our friends' living room. Much better for a show. The weather had improved. Our friends start filing in. It was a beautiful little reunion. Many of them were friends from Santa Barbara, where Scarth and I met, all relocated up north. Scarth's set was funky, smart & cool. My set had its heart on its sleeve, as usual.  And then, Felsen… This time, no bunny. Andrew was up on the stack of speakers. He was right in the faces of my friends. He was staring me down behind his lethal electric guitar. My friends were melting in piles of putty under his giant laser- beam gaze. Jackets were coming off. Sweat was flying. I had never seen such a frenzy, nor been right in the middle of one…or was I instigating one? I had been hired to sing, but I couldn't stop dancing, like a wild banshee. After, Scarth said, “Those were some pretty wild moves you were doing up there. But you were only giving about 60%, weren't you." I was stunned. How did he know? It didn’t matter. “I can’t give 100. Not with music like that. I might go so wild that...I might upstage Andrew,” I told Scarth, conclusively. “That would not do.” Scarth smiled and said, "Ask him.”  Andrew didn't even hesitate when I got up the courage to inquire. "Go for it," he said.

2014

January 2nd:  Rehearsal  We were getting ready for Felsen's CD release party, at the Rickshaw Stop in SF. Biggest show Felsen had done as a headliner. Six-piece band, including Adam Rossi from Luce. In rehearsal, I danced like a wild woman. I looked over at Andrew. He didn’t bat an eye. The rest of the band seemed ok with it. Maybe. But now was not the time to hesitate. I was on assignment: 100% or BUST. Not my nature. But why not?

January 3rd:  Felsen CD Release  I have never danced so hard in my life. I spent 20 years, age 5-25 dancing every day, training and performing. Nothing was like this. What was this? Something in this band’s music was coming through me. People asked me, “How do you do it? You're dancing non-stop. I’m losing weight just watching you. Aren’t you tired?”

No. I wasn’t. Not at all. I mean, I was out of breath sometimes, but by the end of the show, I had more energy than when I started. In fact, I had more energy than I have had in years.  What’s going on here?    

February:  Sacramento  Exhausted. After my own breakneck, sneak preview tour for my own album, I came down with a cold that would not leave me. Two weeks had passed, and now my voice was gone. I was getting worried. Felsen had an upcoming gig in Sacratmento with one of Andrew’s former CAKE bandmates. Friends were planning to come. We were going to be on the radio. I did not want to miss this one. But how could I, with laryngitis?I went to get acupuncture. It has never failed me. The next day, I was 25% better. I went back only two days later. 50%. But the gig was only two days away. I went back again the day of the gig. I felt 80% better by the end of the treatment, but I could still not use the upper register of my voice. My acupuncturist looked at me. “You are a singer, and you don’t know how to get your voice back?” He whispered a secret formula from his country, involving two kinds of hard liquor, one of which was barely legal. But I’ve never had liquor in my life, and did not plan to start. Plus, driving up there would surely drain me of what little energy I had, and there was no one to drive with me. The gig was only 6 hours away. I got on a train. I napped on the way. Andrew met me at the station, amazed that I had shown up. I could only speak with the lower part of my register. How was I going to sing? I ordered the illicit prescription at the bar. They were out of one of the two types of liqueur. The illegal one. The bartender asked, “How about a Hot Tottie instead?”  “What’s a Hot Tottie?”  10 minutes before our set, I notice, I can talk with the middle range of my voice. 5 minutes before, I am able to use the top notes. Felsen gets on stage. I open my mouth. The band hurls its music into the bodies of everyone listening. Something comes over me. I dance as if my life depends on it. As if my voice depends on it. As if dancing the rest of this lingering cold OUT, right now, can expel it from me. As if, in an uninhibited explosion of whatever it is that is coming through the band can come through me too, and cause this malady to leave me, never to come back again. By the end of the set, I was well. Did that really just happen?   

May— Benicia Many gigs have now gone by. And now we have been asked to play in Benicia, four hours straight. from 9pm til 1am. Three 10-minute breaks only. Thirty seven songs in the set, no repeats. I wonder if this is what Andrew meant by, “Rock and roll is going to beat you up.” We start into the first set.  By now I knew, though, I would be fine. Even when I forgot my lyrics. Even when Andrew bit my arm for it, on stage, in front of everybody. OUCH!  

I didn’t care. Something was coming through me again. Something about about Dylan’s playing. Andrew’s wailing. Arthur tearing it up. Shane, knocking me in the head with his bass. (Accidentally.) But even that didn’t phase me. Something comes through, and I can’t stop it. I don’t have to work for 100% anymore. It just happens, and far beyond that. This time though, it was all coming through for one of my dearest friends, who was fighting cancer. This was for him. This was for everyone. For anyone, fighting anything. Waves of energy pounded through me, and out to everybody. Everyone in there. Everyone in the world. The end of illness. The end of suffering. Out, through their amps, into my being, whipping through me, in slow motion shockwaves, out to everyone there. Someone came up to me after and said, “I have studied yoga, meditation, kundalini, you name it. None of it was like what just happened in here. What was that?”“You felt that too?”   My friend went in for surgery one week later, no idea if he was going to make it.  He came out fine. 

October, Bottom of the Hill, SF.  We are all in white. We are on stage at Bottom of the Hill. Standing in for our new bassist Bryan is Peter, dressed as a giant headless bunny. Scarth is playing keyboards in drag. Art is pounding on the drums with a light saber. Andrew is dressed like some kind of crazy, Elvis-style, cult leader. We kill it. KILL IT.  Dressing all in white somehow reveals something about this something that comes through us all. Something I have not been able to articulate to this point. The next day, I write Andrew a text. “I know what it is. Felsen is shamanic.” I can hear him thinking. He writes back. “Write a blog post about it.”

Felsen plays  this Friday in fully plugged-in, gloriously unbridled form.   Come get healed.

love,
Dara

FRIDAY MAY 29.  
STARRY PLOUGH, 
3101 SHATTUCK AVE
BERKELEY, CA 
21+OVER  $8-12 SLIDING SCALE
SHOWTIME. 9PM  FELSEN PLAYS AT 10.45.