Kennewick Man
For those of you who I might not have told, this last Saturday night was the début of the documentary Kennewick Man: An Epic Drama of the West (www.Kennewickmanmovie.com) for which I did the soundtrack. It was at the Seattle Art Museum, which has a little theater that holds about three hundred people and I would say that they had close to that number there. I had of course seen the movie in various stages of pre-production on the little monitor that sits in my recording studio but it was another thing entirely to see it up on the big screen. The audience seemed to enjoy it and the very first comment I heard in the Q and A at the end of the film was “I really liked the soundtrack” and it wasn’t even anyone I know! As you might guess my head’s about twice the size it was 48 hours ago. Sweetie and I had shipped the boys over to her sister’s house for the night so we could go to the party after and that proved to be a very good idea. No having to worry about getting home at a reasonable hour for us…
We hung out with some old friends and closed the bar down before we called it a night. But not before I had a person ask me if I was a professional musician! Good lord, I’m surprised my head could even fit in the car on the way home.
Saturday was also the first day of winter around here. The few who read this might argue that the first day of winter is in December but they would be wrong. It was Saturday. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t live in the Northwest how 40 degrees of soggy wind signals the start of winter, but our winter rain is colder than our snow any day. You know it’s winter when the rain cuts through you right to your very center. Makes a home for itself deep in your muscle mass, wrapping your bones in the icy water.
By the time we left, the streets were slick and the moon was shining behind a thin band of clouds. The heat is out on the right side of the El Camino but the left pumps it out just enough to keep us both warm; that is if Sweetie sides up close and I put my arm around her. Out in the blackness, listening to the thrum of the motor, I wanted to swear at the moon. I wanted to stand on the hood of the car and tear down the clouds. I wanted to reach deep into my chest and pull out the nesting birds, scattering them to the wind.
Driving on the darkened roads that lead us home feels like freefalling through space.
We hung out with some old friends and closed the bar down before we called it a night. But not before I had a person ask me if I was a professional musician! Good lord, I’m surprised my head could even fit in the car on the way home.
Saturday was also the first day of winter around here. The few who read this might argue that the first day of winter is in December but they would be wrong. It was Saturday. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t live in the Northwest how 40 degrees of soggy wind signals the start of winter, but our winter rain is colder than our snow any day. You know it’s winter when the rain cuts through you right to your very center. Makes a home for itself deep in your muscle mass, wrapping your bones in the icy water.
By the time we left, the streets were slick and the moon was shining behind a thin band of clouds. The heat is out on the right side of the El Camino but the left pumps it out just enough to keep us both warm; that is if Sweetie sides up close and I put my arm around her. Out in the blackness, listening to the thrum of the motor, I wanted to swear at the moon. I wanted to stand on the hood of the car and tear down the clouds. I wanted to reach deep into my chest and pull out the nesting birds, scattering them to the wind.
Driving on the darkened roads that lead us home feels like freefalling through space.
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