Eddie Vedder

OK.  I'm not what you'd call a psycho fan or even a real devotee of any one artist in particular. It's not because I do this for a living (OK maybe it is) but I wasn't that way as a kid.  I didn't save up my money to buy albums or sneak out of my bedroom window to go to concerts.  Music was a way for me to escape my situation.  I listened to the radio, and what my parents listened to in the car on the way to Dairy Queen.  I just happened to be lucky that it was 70's rock and not Yanni or something like that.  Although Yanni's cool I guess.

I started writing my own songs almost right away.   To this very day I don't know how I knew how to do that...just did.

When I was 18 I heard a voice that would change everything.  And it was this voice that would show me my own.  It was Eddie Vedder and the band was Pearl Jam.  Nothing before or since touched me in that way.  He sounded as I felt and my heart was moved.  On that day, I became a fan.  I bought the first album and played it until it started skipping.  Then I waited for the second one to hit the store and got it the day it came out.  

I read all of the articles and waited for the rare...extremely rare, interview.

I got the live cd's and every one they released in between.  

And I wrote.

But my songs were changing as was my voice and my vision.  After doing my own thing and traveling around I joined AR in 1999.  I thought I was the female Eddie.  I was convinced the industry would not only notice that but celebrate it and allow it.  But never was the comparison made.  I got Janis and Melissa, I got Anne Wilson and Stevie.  All amazing artists and giant compliments to me.  But the truth was.  Eddie Vedder created this monster, and no one could even see it.  

Then the label got involved and said we were too "heavy" (the sound, not our thighs, although they said that too) and that radio didn't play girl rock bands.  A nip here, a tuck there and we became the biker Dixie Chicks according to Rolling Stone.

All of that was cool, and being in Rolling Stone at all would make any musician beyond thrilled, but deep down I knew my intention was different when I started, and it ached a little in my chest.

A lot has happened, years have passed, and I've carved out a little spot for myself in this crazy industry.  Now younger artists get compared to me and sometimes my records even inspire. That truly keeps me going knowing it's even possible.  It's been a long time since I busted out a Pearl Jam record and years since I recalled the girl who worshiped them.  But today, when I least expected it, there they were, on VH1 Rock Honors paying tribute to The Who.

And when the music kicked in I was 18 again, covered in prickly skin glued to the television. Basking in the sounds of my hero, arms raised in my living room arena, captivated all over again.

And again, truly inspired.

All you wanna do is talk talk...

We were talkers growing up in my family.  

Communicators all the way.  And loud too.  

Loud talking, opinionated people all under one roof. 

In my house, the one who yelled the loudest got heard.

And I got good at it.  It was survival.  

My Mom used to say I'd make a good litigator.  I could talk a dog off a meat truck and I prided myself on that.

The other side of it was that my mouth got me in trouble.  The truth may set you free but it'll also make you pretty unpopular.  Not everyone is interested in going deep all the time.  And once you become the friend who cries foul you'd better expect to be deleted from a few bar-b-q guest lists. No one likes a know it all.

But I can't help it.  I like the truth, so I tell the truth.  I'm confused by people who'd rather walk around the 300 pound gorilla rather than mention it's there.  Why waste time?

My Dad likes the sound of his own voice too.  

My brother and I do impressions of him whenever we get together.  One time he looked at a guy he was sitting next to on an airplane and said, "You stink!  I'm leavin'!"  Another time he told my Aunt flat out she was too obese to sit on his lawn chair.  

What you have to understand is that he can dish it out sure, be can take it too.  Ask my Dad when his baby is due because his tummy looks like he's delivering twins, and he'll laugh harder than you do.

I learned from a master.

I say what I think because I expect you to as well.  I wait for it.  I WANT it.  

It surprises me every time when someone holds in a resentment or wanted to say something but didn't.

I can see the skepticism on their faces when I say, "be honest" as though they have no clue what that means.  

Can you believe people actually live that way?

To me, I'd rather know what you're thinking than assume I do.  And don't do me any favors by sparing my feelings, because your opinion shouldn't change the one I have about myself.  If it does, I've got some serious work to do.

Why do you think Joan Rivers started making jokes about her own plastic surgery?  Because when she does she takes back all the power baby.

So the next time you get the urge to speak up, go for it.  What's the worst thing that happens? You get to see who prefers denial?

Do yourself a favor.

Greetings

Hello friends,
Bless me, for I have been remiss. It has been many weeks since my last blog-fession....I have committed the following sins..
I've been waking up late. Eating too much licorice. Watching the Bachelor. I haven't done my laundry in a while....and I'm pretty sure it's time to vacuum. My workouts have been less intense, and less frequent. I haven't written one song....well, okay, maybe ONE.

All of this may sound like a woman in distress, but I assure it is not the case. For the first time in 9 years I have no place to be really. No one to answer to. No one to defend against. I am spinning madly in an empty room with wide open doors surrounded by nothing but loose ends.....and it feels delicious.
Like freedom.
So, why do I feel so guilty?
Are these tears of terror? Or joy?

As humans we are so afraid of change. I fancied myself above such silliness, but I am today confronted with my own humanity and for the very first time....it fits.

I ask for your patience, and forgiveness. And that you'll walk through this open door with me. Hey, is that a welcome mat I see??
Love,
Cassidy

Ask Cassidy - Episode 2 - Season 2

Ask Cassidy - Episode 2 - Season 2



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Shmammy's...

At around 7pm Sunday night Butchie's cell phone started vibrating. He reached over without looking away from the television and brought the little blinking silver device to his nose. After squinting to see who it was, he slid his thumb between the crack in the metal and flipped it open. "Hello"...? I could tell by his tone who was calling. Funny how that happens. The better you know a person, the more you can tell who they're speaking to by their inflection and word choice.
Let's just put it this way, Butchie doesn't sound like that when he speaks to me.

After a few minutes of small talk that I blocked out because he deserves his privacy, I heard him say with slightly more force, "No, we don't watch that in this house."
He was being dry. Half serious, and half joking, but I knew what he was referring to, and he wasn't lying.
The 50th Grammy Awards Ceremony was scheduled to air in roughly a half hour, and the caller inquired as to whether or not we'd be tuning in. An innocent question, especially since I too reside in the home, and by all outward appearances am involved in the business of making music. But without hesitation Butch answered, a definitive NO. I am not entirely certain if he would be watching were I not home. Or more to the point, had he never met me. I believe by now I have sufficiently tainted him to the world of popular music, and I'd feel bad about that if I thought for one second he was actually missing something.

So we got "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" on demand and proceeded to enjoy what will undoubtedly be one of my favorite movies of all time. Loved it.
This was a MUCH better spent Sunday night and here's why...

Monday morning I got up, had my coffee, did some odds and ends and at 11am clicked on The View. If I'm home, I watch it, even though I miss Rosie and Barbara Walters needs to retire immediately. I like to hear what the ladies are quacking about. So, about half way through the hot topics, Whoopie gets the signal to throw it to commercial, but before she does, must segue to a clip of none other than a performance from the Grammy's the night prior. And before I can dive over my sofa for the remote I am flooded with the sounds and images of Amy Winehouse (I guess that's how you spell it..?).
She is 90lbs. She looks like the women hanging around 10th Avenue at midnight. And she's singing totally out of key. Wasn't she denied a visa? Didn't they make her go to rehab....and she said yes yes yes?
Yet, there she was...4 time Grammy Winner Amy Winehouse. Ok...so what's my problem? I don't have a problem with the song, or the album, or that people dig her music, or that someone other than me gets the love. That's all good and fine. I want to have a giant album, of course...but this is less about that and more about standards.
What I hate is that this is the best we have to offer. And that she is touted as the big star of the year. What I CRAVE is to be INSPIRED by an artist that is all over radio and winning awards. What I JONES for, is someone to emulate. I wanna be impressed, I want to know that in order to win you have to be at a higher standard than other artists. That you need to be better in ALL ways. That you have to be a champion. Not a crack skank.

I am NOT a Mom. But I play one on t.v. and my friends and cousins are Mom's, so I know a Mom or ten. And if I was a Mom, and my 12 year old saw that girl winning awards and getting praise I'd be TERRIFIED. I'd sell my television and join a commune.
I'm already considering it for me and Butchie.

And as an artist, where do I go with that information? What do I do with that? As a Caucasian female artist in this business how do I proceed? I don't get to be Alicia Keys or Mary J.. I don't get to be voluptuous, and fierce. Only women of color are allowed that luxury.
How about if I'm a little 12 year old white girl who wants to be a singer? My role model is Amy Winehouse? An anorexic drug addict who can't deliver the song live? A girl who has walked off stages leaving the fans who paid to see her high and dry? WHAT??
Give that girl a prize!!! Hell, give her 4!!
That's my issue.
That's my problem.
How do we teach the difference between right and wrong when we give prizes to the biggest mess? And how do I stay on the straight and narrow when there's no time off for good behavior?
Forget explaining it to the kids....explain it to me.

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Human nature

I'm a people watcher.
I love to observe social rituals and human interaction. I can spend hours discussing the intricacies of interpersonal connections, analyzing people's responses and reactions to things. I'm way into it.
I probably would have been a great forensic profiler. I love those shows.
I struggle in relationships though. Maybe it's because I'm forever deconstructing conversations after they happen. Assigning meaning to things that have none. Maybe I'm too aware. Nobody likes a know it all....isn't that the saying? Who wants to hang around someone who finds the hidden message in every statement?
How annoying.
I don't do it to be annoying though. I sincerely can't help it. And I have somehow managed to round up a few steady people in my life who I think kinda like it. They do it too, so we entertain each other with our theories of observation. They also aren't scared to tell me to shut up sometimes....and I need that.

For instance, if we were out to dinner, and you complained about your job, my natural reaction would be to probe further....why are you still there? What is your part in the unrest? If you're at a bar, smashed off your face and causing a scene, I am automatically wondering what's the deeper reason. If you chose an abusive partner, if you're nasty for seemingly no cause...or, if you are successful in your job or in a loving marriage. If you smile at everyone and whistle in the gym.....I wanna know why why WHY???
I'm fascinated.

The human psyche is an amazing thing and when I boil it all down people tend to be coming from one of two places.
Love and fear.
I think all things are based in these two things.
Anger, jealousy, selfishness, intolerance.....it's all fear manifested in those defensive mechanisms designed to protect ourselves from things we don't understand, or from being hurt. Kindness, generosity, understanding.....love. It's all love derived. Try it...think of an emotion and see if it fits in one or the other. I have found it does.
I SO know when I am coming from a place of fear these days. When I feel like something is in danger of being taken from me. My security, or my self esteem. I get up on my hind legs and show my sharp teeth. I'm like an animal trying to scare away what threatens me. The older I get though, the more I can turn the other cheek. I realized that I actually lose MORE of my power by reacting, so it's become easier to walk away from a fight. That's big for me. I used to be so combative, and short fused. I was an explosion waiting to happen at all times. But I get so much more satisfaction now out of staying calm and managing all that huge energy. And now I can see how silly people look when they can't control their outbursts or their foul moods.
(Buddhism and 12 step addiction recovery played a huge roll, in case you were at all curious).

I am still just a human on this planet trying like hell to figure it all out though. And some days are decidedly better than others. But for me, it's through awareness that I adjust my position on the road to higher meaning. It's through trial and error that I improve my existence.

And while watching others slip and fall that I give myself permission not to.