Balancing Blues and Little Lost Boys

They sing the blues. They derive rhythm from a played and frayed washboard, stroking the metal grooves with a sometimes stocatto-sounding fierceness. At times, the sounds ringing out from the washboard are simple, and clean. They carry a song with calm unity, keeping the singer from jumping ahead, like the way Laina manipulates that reused household washboard. But when Celeste grabs ahold of ‘er, I hear a heart of hearts striking a chord with my own, making me move and feel things.

I once had a friend say to me, with a look of pure torment, whilst striking a hand to his forehead and wobbling because of visibly weak knees, “Gawddddd, I love me some Celeste on that washboard.” This is now a sentiment I share with that friend. But, both players in this band make me thirst for the next chord. They create a complimenting spectrum of driving strength and meandering, lusty blues. They play banjo, and guitar, and when they aren’t on the road, they even drag out a tiny jaymar piano and strike each note, carefully and craftily. Their voices, two of them, are haunting but clear, and they form a rigid semblance of exactly the right notes. I can hear one player, choosing the higher, billowey soprano harmony, carrying a tune with bluesy falsetto. Other songs make me pick out a huskier, alto vocal part, which comfortably strokes the traipsing soulfullness of the music.  Together these voices and these players are Little Lost Boys, and I’m so glad to be here.

Here is Portland, OR and the players are Laina Torres and Celeste Turconi. They are twentry-something females, from Northern CA, from the place I grew up and they are visiting, just passing through on the tail end of a short tour up to Seattle. Of these two lovely ladies, I share a longer history with Laina, whom I actually went to high school with. It’s been really nice to start seeing her around again, 6 or so years later. We now find ourselves within a culture of creative co-operatives that have sprung from the ashes of the phoenix we knew in high school, the one made up of rules and homework and “mean girls”. The creative culprit here is, admittedly, also known as hipster-dom, but I don’t really care about what you call it. There are sustainable parts of this culture, and that’s what I came here for.

The background is fairly simple but as with all stories of sustainability, integral to the outcome. Two girls met. One used to visit the other’s house to do campaign work for Food Not Bombs. A roommate in said house was a musician, and he started teaching one of the girls to play music, which in turn led to an introduction between between the lady musicians. One thing led to another and the two started to jam. Not even a month into these jam sessions, another musical friend had a gap in the line-up for an upcoming folk festival. After debating whether or not they should play their music for other people, the girls finally went for it, committing themselves to the musical bill as a band called “Jackalope Dust.” They changed their name by a whimsical turn of fate a short time later, when a flier collaging session caused some letters to fall away. Legend holds that it was Laina who noticed the remaining characters formed the words “Little Lost Boys.” Jackolope Dust was dead, and in its place came Little Lost Boys.

Laina and Celeste have now been playing together as Little Lost Boys for about a year, so it’s safe to say they are well into this, but are still building on the vision of their band. I was lucky to catch Celeste on the phone the other day, and to  pick her brain for nearly an hour about this vision. During our conversation, I was completely taken with the organic responses she gave me to questions. I found that she is yet another member of a glowing generation that can’t stop slaving to flaming passion and that she is in constant pursuit of growth and creativity. 

Celeste conveyed a certain pride associated with being a girl musician. She spoke of how she and Laina aspired to represent themselves well and to really perform, to be onstage, and to affect people with their music and their writing. I found myself relating remarkably to her words, relating to that thirst for expression. She spoke confidently, concurrently straightforward and humble. I imagined her pacing and recounting details, not realizing that her serious dedication to the craft of music and even to this conversation is the mark of a true artist. To my always roving eye, her taking the time to speak to me on the call is also the mark of sincere character.

At one point in our conversation, I asked her how the treasured washboard came into their lives. She said, “You know, we thought, well if the boys can do it, then we can do it too.” A fierce spirit shines through at moments like this, and it mirrors the bluesy vibration of Little Lost Boys. This spirit reminds me of the railroad, of the wild west, and of an unruly frontier, frought with difficulty and triumph. And it seems to fit them perfectly. What else can be done about struggle, about emotion, about dealing with all this shit we call life? I get the feeling from Little Lost Boys that the answer is certainly to sing and move through it. This is the first clue that the blues, that the Little Lost Boys, that all of this is about balance.

Which brings me back to the topic I set out to discuss: how do we sustain? I posed this question to Celeste in just about as many words, and was brought to a point that I believe is key to my research here. Celeste said, simply- just as she described the matter-of-fact way in which she formed a band with Laina, “You can’t help anybody until you help yourself.” Period.

Via all of my questions about the music and about the art and about the touring, this one thing was standing out, becoming more clear, and suddenly I realized, this is CENTRAL to sustainability: 

You. Can’t. Help. Anybody. Until. You. Help. Yourself.

I think this hit me so hard because I have a lot in common with Celeste: she is a community organizer, she believes in creating community spaces where people can come together to share and create and inspire each other, and she is an advocate for all-age shows and for safe places for teens. Shortly after realizing the momentous truth to her words, I predicted (in my mind) that she likely has a history of being busy and does what all the social networkers do--- I’m sure she over commits. About a second later, she told me that in fact she does. We all do. 

I’ve seen this over-commitment epidemic rise. I especially have witnessed this phenomenon within the political and community organizers, I’ve seen it in the artists, in the non-profit workers, but also in all sorts of entreprenuers, and ambitious dreamers: we all want to do something electric and awesome and there is soooo much to be done, so we ALWAYS burn the candle from both ends. And the difference between this sort of over-commitment and any old workaholic is that the starving artists rarely get paid what they’re worth for it. And yet, we just can't stay away.

So here are some of the connections I’ve made by talking with Celeste and by going to see Little Lost Boys play music. Celeste promotes bands and Celeste goes to school and Laina and Celeste write music but they make sure to find time for their art. Laina and Celeste seem to currently invest in their own art and their own music as much as they invest in the growth of anyone elses. They have been enriching their own community for years and with their recent tour, they finally cashed in on all the social capital they had been storing away. (Social capital is the value associated with and arising from social/professional favors and community support, otherwise known as “good karma.”) Therefore, balance between helping out creative compatriots and making sure to help themselves is what makes their creative community sustain.

Ok, this may seem straightforward. In music biz it sort of goes without saying that you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, (ie you book my band when I’m in your town and I’ll make sure you get a gig when you visit my town.) But this concept is completely integral to all situations, to all business and entrepreneurial endeavors, to recycling, and to building local, clean, healthy, and sustainable communities.  For example, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure; what I need to get rid of might in some way also benefit an artist who creates value from re-used materials. This demonstrates the importance of the “balance,” in that a mutually beneficial relationship was brokered; one person gave away something that was easy to give, and the other person received something they would otherwise have purchases. In essence here, I'm talking about the value of barter and trade economies and the how they are inherently more balanced than other versions of monetary trades and relationships. (You should google Black Rock City if you are interested in this concept). 

Another example: a small business owner who, say, sells coffee products decides to partner with a local organization. The coffee shop then promotes the organization’s events and work and will in turn draw a wider range of patrons from the client base of said local organization. Or in another scenario, say, a local farmer gives left over product to a farmer’s market employee at the end of the day. That farmer will likely see that market employee begin to build a relationship with that product, purchasing it for their own use and pointing friends and family toward the local farmer and related farm products.

When you add what Celeste pointed out to me, that you can’t help anyone until you help yourself, well then this has a more significant meaning. To build sustainable relationships, in hospitality, in music, in art, in design, in landscaping, in farming, in ANYTHING, you must make sure you don’t give away any more than you have. If you give more than you have, well then you run out. Then you have nothing to give. Giving nothing is not sustainable. And giving everything is not sustainable. The key is to balance the giving and the taking. Balance is sustainable.

Of course, this is all good in theory. I do think the element of balance will continue to grow in importance throughout the coming onslaught of increased extreme weather patterns, exponential population growth (especially in urban, coastal areas), and the continuation of food crises and food distribution problems. The concept of balance obviously applies now, but will apply even more directly to the quality of life on Earth in the coming years.

Meanwhile, in the here and now, I think I’ll see if I can track down some of the music of those Little Lost Boys, or maybe some of the music they listen to for inspiration. Celeste mentioned Robert Johnson, Jole Holland, and Fred Mcdowell as a few of her favorites. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll be able to find one of those on vinyl here on my boyfriend’s shelf of records.

Besides, listening to the blues should help me sustain my balance right…?!!

This blog was inspired by Little Lost Boys, a band from Santa Rosa, CA. They have recently joined Sell The Heart Records, a not-for-profit record label that has a mission of helping musicians record music on vinyl and helping them play more live shows. 

Read more about them: http://www.theowlmag.com/tag/little-lost-boys/

And like them on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/little-lost-boys/119601731388892