Mica Lee Williams

January 9, 2012

Hello my dear friends. You can be mad at me for not having written a blog in so long. I know, I know. But then let me get right to the updates

As you may know, Iíve been studying English and Rhetoric at UC Berkeley. What can I say? It has been the experience of a lifetime. I'm soaking up the knowledge they're giving, being introduced to so many new ideas. It just solidifies for me how important education is to our nation. It quite simply changes the way we see the world, and the way we see ourselves in it. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to study at Cal, surrounded by so many bright students and brilliant professors. Also, thankful to have kept my GPA in tip-top condition (3.9). I graduate in May, so 2012 will be a milestone year. Which leads me to my next subject: my new CD.

Yes, yes, I *have* been promising a CD for a while now, and soon I will deliver on that promise. Very soon. Forgive me that I had to take a break from the recording process in order to return to it with clarity. But I think you'll appreciate it.

Funny thing: I had started recording around the time that I had started school, so in many ways it is serendipitous that I will be finishing the same year I graduate. What took me so dang long? Well, part of the reason is, when you're at a top university and you care about your grades, everything else takes second fiddle. Time, energy, and resources go into school, in the same way those things went to music before school started. UC Berkeley has high expectations and a heavy workload, which is all fine, as long as you focus. The other part of it is, I wasn't quite satisfied with the direction my first recording was headed -- so I took some space from it. It's very difficult for a lifelong musician to give herself permission to just take a break, but that's what I did, and it was a liberating choice. I didn't want to feel pressured, but rather wanted inspiration to grow organically -- and that it did. This new recording feels in the pocket, so to speak. I love the process and the musicians, and taking my time, letting things unfold naturally, without forcing it, has worked out magically.

The really FUN part this time around has been working with musician friends remotely. Several musicians lent their talents to the project from on far: My buddies Todd Johnson and Josh Basnett from the award-winning band "Trucker," out of Lawrence, Kansas, shared vocals and guitar color; Ian Kennedy, who performs with Dennis Brennanís band Reverse, out of Somerville, MA plays fiddle on a couple of tracks, as well as electric lead; Scotty Houston, formerly of 100 Watt Smile and now playing with Ray Halliday's band, sent some sweet lap steel from over the bridge in Oakland, CA; CJ Lewis, a talented, rising actor as well as musician out of Portsmouth, NH, is contributing midi sounds; and the infamous Peter Keys out of Nashville, TN is playing, well, the keys. You probably know Pete from his years with PFunk, and from his being a current member of Lynard Skynard. He's simply tremendous. And frankly, he couldn't be a nicer human being. Really, all these guys are just sweethearts. They've taken recording to a whole new level of special.

And of course, my friends that played in the studio with me: Terry Branan (drums), Terry Goss (bass), Ray Halliday (trumpet), and John Wally Sablosky (lead guitar) -- have been a joy to work with and just hang around, as per usual. I've also been expanding some of my own musical abilities, learning mandolin and picking up piano again for the record. I'm no Peter Keys, but, ya know, I do alright ;)

Speaking of keys, Pete introduced me to his sister, Stefanie, who is a firecracker and I adore her already. We'll be sharing a gig together at the Boom-Boom Room on Feb 2nd, so come check us out. I can't wait!

What else? It's January, and the record is 95% completed. Some finishing touches, mastering, and it is out of the gate. I'll let you know more as the due date approaches. It's got a strong Rock and Americana vibe, and I hope you enjoy the new direction. Classes start up next week, vacation will be over and I'll be back to juggling a full class load along with the creative stuff and the rest of my life. I think I like keeping it busy and dynamic. Well, I suppose that's enough for now. Until the next, be happy and well, and I'm sending out positive energy to you.

Love, Mica Lee (by the sea)

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ummer 2010

Hello friends,

Wow - what an outstanding year.

I have absolutely had my nose to the grindstone. Finally, I am able to exhale, brush off the dust of my labor, and view the landscape with great satisfaction. Lots of news to share. First, after surviving the weightiest credit load of my life (including statistics, astronomy, and Shakespeare - don't try this at home, kids), I've graduated from City College of San Francisco with not one, but two Associates Degrees -- English and Arts & Humanities. Bonus? The 4.0 GPA lives on to fight another day. If that wasn't enough, I am fortunate to have been awarded the Dorothy Frederica Mercer Scholarship for transferring English majors, the top scholarship at CCSF. An inside source at the English department tells me that an inspiring personal statement is what pushed me to the fore in a year of fierce competition and many worthy candidates. But that's not even the most exciting part (excuse me while I Snoopy dance): I am humbled and thrilled to announce that in a year of unprecedented applicants and in-state submission cuts, yours truly was accepted to historic University of California Berkeley's College of Letters and Science! UC Berkeley has a rich and prestigious history of academic excellence and civic pride. I can't wait to experience all that Cal has to offer.

As I celebrate these coups, I want to offer up a huge plate of *GRATITUDE* to everyone who has been a support and cheerleader over the past few years while I've explored this rapidly blossoming side of myself. It's been an incredible journey -- with many new roads yet stretched out before me.

Obviously, music is still in my bones, though it's become the soundtrack to my journey rather than the focus these days. When you're going for straight A's, your time and energy are spoken for in every way. Much like music, academia is a muse that I can't help but obey -- and I honestly couldn't be happier, personally or professionally. My partner Tim has been strong at my side for nearly nine years now, and our seaside home is my sanctuary; I have a remarkable group of brilliant, talented friends both near and far, reaching for their own stars; and life just continues to amaze me, perhaps now more than ever.

So that's the scoop. I'll keep you posted as I learn to navigate my new universe.

Keep it positive. Keep it light. Keep it real.

Love,

Mica Lee (by the sea)

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Summer 2009

Ok, I know I'm long overdue to give you something fresh on my news page. SO here goes...

I thought you might like to see a few shots of my studio project. I have the name of the album, but am keeping it close to my chest until I'm finished (I like the idea of not killing the anticipation with too much info). It's been a lot of fun, though slow going because of school.
It wouldn't be so slow if I didn't worry so much about straight A's, but that's where I'm at.
Hopefully it will all pay off with the transfer school of my choice. Eye's fixed to the future...

I began the project right around the time I started school, 3 years ago. It's been nice taking my time and enjoying the process and progress, rather than feeling pressured. That's basically the way I look at life these days, and it's brought a lot of quality to living.

This first shot is Jaimeson Durr. He engineered the basic tracks at Hyde Street Studio.
Stellar human being - and a new dad, as well.

Below here is Andy Korn, who laid down the drums.
A true smooth mofo, and a pleasure to work with

Sam Bevan played upright and fretless bass (though he's tooling with a guitar in this pic).
He was a new dad at the time of this photo!

Right now, I'm working with Buddy Saleman at Potrero Post on final vocals and
production. We met by both surviving the same Symbolic Logic class at CCSF.
This is Buddy and his assistant "The Cowboy."

Apparently every intern gets a nickname.

Me n' Buds after a really nice session.

And me in the booth.

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I thought I'd also include a few stellar shots from my kitchen porch.
I have the sweetest view of Ocean Beach and the Pacific, and am absolutely
in love with it.

This is my hood, in the Outer Sunset. You can see where it gets the name.

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And I'm back at Komasket this year! I will definitely add some
new photos. I know it's going to be beautiful! This is some of the Team from Komasket, me included. Sheila (Everything Coordinator), Andrew (Stage Manager), and Me (Emcee and General Runaround Girl)

This is me and my Emcee compadres, Belva. I am so excited she is moving to SF from Vernon in 2 weeks!

And the people who come to Komasket!

That's Andrew again, and those are my legs.
I liked what someone wrote in the dust of the mirror.
"We are all beautiful"

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Okay! As promised, a photo documentary of the sacking of the Blue Castle!

Once there was a peaceful place called the Valley of the Blue Castle.
It was the most sanguine and lovely valley, until one day...

Pirates came! They plotted to bring down the Blue Castle and bring chaos and mayhem to the peaceful valley.

The king of the pirates declared war, calling all the pirates to arms...

...and descended upon the sleepy castle without warning...

...bringing it to ruin...

...and having a great bit of fun at it.

The end.
Yaaaaargh!

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I wanted to share something VERY special with you. It's a photo journal of my trip to Vashon Island, where I got to visit the farm I grew up spending summer's on. On Vashon, my family's name is Smith and EVERYONE knows the Smiths, because, as was said to me by a 30 year local "The Smiths are a good island family." And it's true.
I will just cut and paste my blog from MySpace for the narrative:

Today I had a show on Vashon Island. I was for-warned of Friday traffic nightmares, so I headed over on the Fauntleroy Ferry around 3:00pm or so, and then straight to Cafe Luna, where I was scheduled to perform.

I hit the girls up behind the counter for the local phone book and called some of my family members who live on the island to invite them to my show. That's island life; wait until the last minute, because you know they aren't far and probably don't have much else to do.

My Aunt Marla answered, excited to hear from me, and she informed me that my cousin, Gracie, worked the front counter at Cafe Luna. It was pretty wild because the last time I saw her she was around 9 yrs old. Now she's 19. When she showed up she wore the look of awe as her coworker told her we were related. Her blond and blue eyed, me brown and green eyed. She didn't remember me, but it didn't matter; We're family. The Smiths (that's my grandparent's name) are mixed and many. Big hugs and excitement. She was at work so there was only so much gossiping we could do, but I did ask her how to get to the farm, where my grandparents lived for more than 30 years. She gave me driving directions (it's a island, so there's generally not too far to go to get anywhere, really) and I set out in my little red car, all packed full of my gear and belongings.

When I arrived I almost missed it, because the maple trees, which were just spindly saplings when I was young, had taken over what was once a field in the front of the property. The gravel driveway was still there, but seemed dwarfed due to the overgrowth (and the years, I'm sure) A young girl walked out of the farm house. Yes, there it still stood, in all it's sagging glory. The farm house, perhaps begging to be condemned years ago, but somehow, still sturdy.

A standing, legendary, slice of history. The color a wooded gray, the random missing shingles on the roof bringing to mind a toothless, smiling elder, happy to see the rarely visiting grandchild. The girl was not what I would call friendly, but curious, and seemed resigned to let me take photos of the property. I chatted with her amicably, to reassure her of my intentions. She was comfortable enough to leave and let me roam the property unattended. I had, after all, played in these long grasses before she was ever born. Yikes! That makes me sound WAY older than I am :P

It was unbelievable the transformation. Junk and clutter seemed to haunt every corner around the house and driveway. Years of neglect and disrepair visible at every turn. The wood chopping shed, where my grandmother chopped wood nearly every day to heat the house and cook on the wood stove, was full of junk, the woodchips buried beneath debris. It was clear the last people to love this place were my grandparents and their brood.

All the shrubs and trees had now become masters of the land, engulfing the once looming house.

The space in the back where my grandmother's unearthly garden had flourished, was now overgrown bushes and grass. The guesthouse and barn were shrouded in blackberry bushes. The land was slowly swallowing up the plot that housed so many adventures, turmoil, celebrations and debaucherous interludes. It gave me chills and a feeling of joy I can't express to be there.

I made my way with my camera down the back driveway and out to the guesthouse.

The blackberry bushes were too thick and gnarly to walk fully around, but I scanned the sides of the modest, slant roofed, ranch style cabin for huckleberry bushes. I could not find any. A shame. I often dreamed of those small, tart, carnelian colored berries that we used to eat by the handful. Not too many people know the joy of huckleberries. So I had some blackberries instead.

Moving onto the barn, I thought for a moment the door was blocked by stinging nettles and blackberries, but someone had, in the least of efforts, kept the entrance clear. The barn itself, with it's red aluminum roof and ancient, wide-spaced boards, cut into the sky, a graceful, aging, giant.

It's insides beckoned with shadows and creaking sounds.

I walked into the chaos. Rotting mattresses, boxes and blankets, broken glass. I spotted a box of Sojourner's (that's my grandma) bell jars. The lids were rusted on. I suddenly realized that this was treasure trove of history and I had free reign and pickins. The hunt was on.

I carefully walked over the rotting floorboards, scanning the detritus with my eyes and snapping pictures of interesting relics; old motorcycles; windows broken in by the reaching limbs of prickly bushes; an old wheel frame.

I came upon a book with a rotting cover and paper bugs all over it. I dusted it off and peeled open the decrepit pages. Ah! Of course. Edgar Allen Poe's The Golden Bug and other short stories. It was too perfect. Another find in my quest for heirlooms.

I picked it up and brought it with me to the second floor. (Mind you, all of these things belong to my family and were abandoned here to rot. Everything in here is an orphan, destined to not be adopted.)

The second floor was where my uncles, Beau and Darwin, lived. My aunt Euphoria and I would climb up and explore when the older boys weren't home.

All that was left of their boyhood days were old bed frames (very cool old iron bed frames that if I had lived closer I would have taken) , decaying antique chairs and lamps and scattered papers and books. My eyes caught hold of some old wooden frames with glass, from a chest of drawers or bookcase. I grabbed them, though severely laden with dirt and something that reminded me of bat or bird poop, and brought them to the downstairs where I began my pile. By the end of my treasure hunt I had an old picture frame of raw wood, two small old framed glass windows, an antique window frame without the glass, a few rusted bell jars, an old bridle, an aluminum coffee pot, 2 pieces of pottery; one a hot plate the other a crude tea pot, and one Edgar Allen Poe book. Plus a multitude of pictures on my camera.

At one point as I slipped out of the barn door, hasty to load my booty, I slighted past some stinging nettles and was reminded of the first time I learned of those, when I was about six. My aunt, my keeper for the summer, asked me if I knew what they were and I foolishly said no. SO she wiped them across my shoulder. My aunt was only a teen, by the way, and other than my mother, who was years older, the only girl among 6 or so boys, maybe more. So I was initiated, much the same way that she was, I'm sure. It all makes me smile now. Believe me, there are many more stories like that one.

I shot some photos of all my gathered, dusty, objects and let the ghosts of the past around me rejoice, vowing to one day live again on this land, one way or another.

A few shots of the multitude of rusting cars from the 40s and50s peeking out from the 6 foot high weeds and I my made my way towards the front.

I passed the tall wooden frame that once held homemade swings, now just dangling, rotting ropes, like an old gallows.

So much of my family is still here.

Another of the young roommates who now rented the farm (not happily I might add. The first girl said they were moving) returned and I introduced myself. Out raced a black collie named Piglet and at the same time a friendly, black kitty, whose name I never did learn, trotted over to flirt with electric green, half-slit eyes.

Kinda like me

My time was complete. I photographed the driveway and then another from the road and said a silent "see you later". It's not goodbye, I can tell you that much.

I preformed to a full house at Cafe Luna in front of an art installation.

And then took the ferry back to the city, late night.

It was a beautiful full moon.

On my way home I decided to treat myself to an adventure at Mt. Shasta. This mountain is known for as an energy location on the planet. I have to say, from this humble traveler's perspective, it's all true. Everything that happened to me there unfolded with mystical synchronicity. I went to a spot by the river that runs at its base and literally felt vibrations from the land that made my knees feel weak.

Click on the picture to see the lightening more clearly!

I went without a plan or anywhere to stay, thinking I would be guided to the right spot. Was I ever! The places I tried first turned away a one night visitor. Then I was directed to a place that might allow me to stay for a night. I called and they told me to come on by. I found myself at The Blue House, a healing center housing some of the coolest folks in town.