Things have maybe, a little bit, anyway, settled down enough for me to catch a breath. We’re still busy, but it’s not really an overwhelming busy.

The spouse and I even managed to sneak away for an overnight adventure sans children, enjoying the music and comedy stylings of the one-and-only Mikey Mason, performing at Atlantis Comics. We enjoyed the show (during which I may have stuffed money down the performer’s pants in a *mostly* innocent manner), visited with friends in the area, and acquired a couple of books from one such friend, author Lynn Townsend, who’s on a publishing roll this year, with three(!) books out this year, as well as a copy of an old edition of the Paranoia RPG out of the shop’s impressive collection of old school game materials. It was nice to get away, even if we spent too much money on the way home passing through Williamsburg (damn you, Harry & David, damn. you.).

Otherwise, it’s been regular life around here: school, work, dance, scouts, etc. Regular enough (for once) that I found time to get together with some of my music/jam session buddies to make some alleged music last night; the first time with these guys since January. Nothing like a couple of hours playing eclectic acoustic covers in the living room and making each other laugh – not the kind of fun I get to have nearly as much as I’d like.

Not all of life’s music is great news, however. Over the weekend, a flurry of announcements signaled what is effectively the end of the Badlees, with the departure of Bret Alexander and Paul Smith from the band’s line-up. Anyone who knows me (especially those who knew me for most of the 90s) know how big a fan of this band I was and am (see here or here or here for additional evidence); seeing this band end after more than 20 years is tough – their music was, for me and for others, the soundtrack of our transition from adolescence into adulthood – it really encapsulated the experience of growing up in a certain place and time. Even though I’m no longer in that place, or that time, being there shaped me, and listening to these sounds (or even thinking about them), dredges up all sorts of feelings and emotions. That’s the beauty of music, after all.

I’m not sure why it’s ending now, but I suspect it’s largely just life happening – output’s been sporadic over the last several years, and all of them have other things going on. With the main songwriting and production forces gone from the band, it’s probably for the best that they’re hanging it up for now. The band, as they’ve always been fond of saying, has always been greater than the sum of it’s parts (it’s really never been quite the same since Jeff left way back when, really). 23-odd years, two different record contracts, and over a dozen albums featuring various combinations of band members is a good run; a lot more than most bands get. I hope to learn of new projects from the various principals in times to come, though I’ll always have a stack of great records to listen to, and an even bigger stack of great memories from all those dozens of live shows. Thanks for the tunes, guys; let’s hope the memories do indeed have equity.

And finally, related to all of the above, I’ve had an idea kicking around in my head for several weeks now that I really need to turn into something; until I do, it’ll be a persistent itch I just can’t get rid of. There’s a creepy ghost story of a song in this photograph from the infamous Graffiti Highway in Centralia PA, if that whole place isn’t a ghost story in and of itself; I just need to finish teasing it out.