x

You are using an outdated browser. Please upgrade your browser to improve your ReverbNation experience.

SuZanne Kimbrell / Blog

Wake the Dead Coffee House--blog from J. Donahue

***This is a blog from Jtdonahue.wordpress.com**** May 21, 2011 Wake The Dead Coffee concert She is performing when I enter the room. She sings into the microphone, but her feet want to own the whole stage. They resign themselves to pacing back and forth to the perfect rhythm she pulls out of the Martin dreadnought. She opens her mouth wide to sing, releasing a power that comes from where I know not. I’m reminded of the first time I saw Alanis sing. At the end of her set (what turns out is only her first set), the headliner asks her if she has any CDs. She says she has two, and I hear that she has recorded two albums. No, she has two—count ‘em! One, two!—CDs, and I buy one. Two dollars very well spent, thank you very much. This is Suzanne Kimbrell. Who I thought was a member of the intimate audience is on stage next. She is a girl with a guitar; I don’t know her name. Yet. She has a voice that is water for thirsty ears and mine drink greedily, pulling it in. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, she sits on a chair cross-legged with the Martin and plays it like it’s hers. I don’t think it is, but I couldn’t tell you why. Ash-blond hair covers half her face, lazy yet persistent. Leslie Sakal, ladies and gentlemen. I want to hear more of her, too, but she doesn’t have albums here. She finishes with a cover of “Mad World,” which I’ve never heard before. I suspect that when I do I’ll prefer Leslie’s version. I am one of seven people in the room. Three of these will be on stage; one sells the CDs. A man enters, sits. Later, during the transition from Suzanne to Leslie, someone else leaves. Emmeline introduces herself to me and tells me to try the granola bars here. (And yes, they are good.) Emmeline sets up her keyboard and takes the stage. I’m again instantly confronted with just how long it’s been since I’ve heard new, original, good music. Breath of fresh and clean. (And yes, I did just write a “sentence” without a verb. Deal with it.) Her second song is the first on the CD, and the CD seller mouths the words as the artist sings. This is a bluesy number, and it reminds me of the opening to Billy Joel’s “The Stranger”. A denim jacket worn over a scooped t-shirt with a khaki skirt whose lack of length is further accentuated by 5-inch heels and the fact that Emmeline stands as she performs. Emmeline’s piano—wait! Wouldn’t that be a great name for a book, or maybe a smoke-filled jazz lounge? “Tonight at Emmeline’s Piano…” Anyway, back to our story—fills the room, the arpeggiated chords clinging to the walls like cobwebs, staccato notes bouncing off the concrete floor. Suzanne and Leslie play another set. I’m talking religion and rapture with someone in the other room when Suzanne sings, but when I return Leslie begins to sing Jeff Beck’s “Hallelujah”. We’ve been joking all throughout that today was (insert finger-quotes here) *supposed* to be the rapture, and we’re still here. That’s why Suzanne says that this song is fitting for the occasion. In the same vein, it seems I have found some cool new trinity, a local-singer-songwriter trifecta, my favorite kind of hat-trick. Emmeline’s second set has her playing a Taylor, legs crossed at the knee as she sits on a wobbly stool. She admits aloud that this was not a good day to wear a skirt. She plays well, and I am glad that I bought her CD. Clipped to Taylor’s headstock is the same gold-colored Kyser capo that I have, but Emmeline’s probably isn’t cut to let the 6th string ring. As Suzanne and Leslie leave, Suzanne says good bye to me, and Leslie and I swap e-info. She asks me for my website, which (moment of honesty!) is a first for me, and makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy. Just sayin’. I am so glad I decided to get myself out of the house tonight.

Wake the Dead Coffee House by J. T. Danahue

****this is from JTDonahues.wordpress.com Blog.*** May 21, 2011 Wake The Dead Coffee concert She is performing when I enter the room. She sings into the microphone, but her feet want to own the whole stage. They resign themselves to pacing back and forth to the perfect rhythm she pulls out of the Martin dreadnought. She opens her mouth wide to sing, releasing a power that comes from where I know not. I’m reminded of the first time I saw Alanis sing. At the end of her set (what turns out is only her first set), the headliner asks her if she has any CDs. She says she has two, and I hear that she has recorded two albums. No, she has two—count ‘em! One, two!—CDs, and I buy one. Two dollars very well spent, thank you very much. This is Suzanne Kimbrell. Who I thought was a member of the intimate audience is on stage next. She is a girl with a guitar; I don’t know her name. Yet. She has a voice that is water for thirsty ears and mine drink greedily, pulling it in. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, she sits on a chair cross-legged with the Martin and plays it like it’s hers. I don’t think it is, but I couldn’t tell you why. Ash-blond hair covers half her face, lazy yet persistent. Leslie Sakal, ladies and gentlemen. I want to hear more of her, too, but she doesn’t have albums here. She finishes with a cover of “Mad World,” which I’ve never heard before. I suspect that when I do I’ll prefer Leslie’s version. I am one of seven people in the room. Three of these will be on stage; one sells the CDs. A man enters, sits. Later, during the transition from Suzanne to Leslie, someone else leaves. Emmeline introduces herself to me and tells me to try the granola bars here. (And yes, they are good.) Emmeline sets up her keyboard and takes the stage. I’m again instantly confronted with just how long it’s been since I’ve heard new, original, good music. Breath of fresh and clean. (And yes, I did just write a “sentence” without a verb. Deal with it.) Her second song is the first on the CD, and the CD seller mouths the words as the artist sings. This is a bluesy number, and it reminds me of the opening to Billy Joel’s “The Stranger”. A denim jacket worn over a scooped t-shirt with a khaki skirt whose lack of length is further accentuated by 5-inch heels and the fact that Emmeline stands as she performs. Emmeline’s piano—wait! Wouldn’t that be a great name for a book, or maybe a smoke-filled jazz lounge? “Tonight at Emmeline’s Piano…” Anyway, back to our story—fills the room, the arpeggiated chords clinging to the walls like cobwebs, staccato notes bouncing off the concrete floor. Suzanne and Leslie play another set. I’m talking religion and rapture with someone in the other room when Suzanne sings, but when I return Leslie begins to sing Jeff Beck’s “Hallelujah”. We’ve been joking all throughout that today was (insert finger-quotes here) *supposed* to be the rapture, and we’re still here. That’s why Suzanne says that this song is fitting for the occasion. In the same vein, it seems I have found some cool new trinity, a local-singer-songwriter trifecta, my favorite kind of hat-trick. Emmeline’s second set has her playing a Taylor, legs crossed at the knee as she sits on a wobbly stool. She admits aloud that this was not a good day to wear a skirt. She plays well, and I am glad that I bought her CD. Clipped to Taylor’s headstock is the same gold-colored Kyser capo that I have, but Emmeline’s probably isn’t cut to let the 6th string ring. As Suzanne and Leslie leave, Suzanne says good bye to me, and Leslie and I swap e-info. She asks me for my website, which (moment of honesty!) is a first for me, and makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy. Just sayin’. I am so glad I decided to get myself out of the house tonight.

WINNING IS FUN!

WOW! SO I FREAKING WON DALLAS GOT TALENT CONTEST LAST NIGHT!! GRAND PRIZE $250! WHAT! That will be use to the greater good of music. The event itself was super fun and some great talent was there, incliding poets, comedians, musicians, actors and even burlesque girls (craziness and a bit hot and bothersome. Oh my!) I had a great time! WHAT!!

New

hey well I'm trying this out. So far I am digging the Reverb.