Blockheads, Megan Jean and the KFB at the Green Bean. March 11th, 7pm.

We'll be playing with our dear friends Megan Jean and the KFB on March 11th at the Green Bean, downtown Greensboro. As it's a Sunday, the show will start early and end early (7pm start time).

Check out the amazing flyer made by out good buddy Keith Warther ( @laserguided , Avant Greensboro).

The next night, Monday, March 12th, we will be having a show/party for our amigo visiting from Austin, Texas- James Marshall Owen. This will also be the Blockheads' two year anniversary, Erin's 30th birthday party, and my birthday. Megan and Byrne are going to stay in town to play another night and have fun with us. Suzanne Stafford, of Come Hell or High Water, will also play a set. There will also be music from Taylor Bays, James Marshall Owen, and myself- with some of the Blockheads.

This will be at an undisclosed location and will be a free show/party. Hint: It'll start around 8pm, which is two hours before the open mic starts on Tuesdays.

how important is music to you?

Are you listening to music right now? If you're like me you are rarely not listening to something. I listen to music at work, on the road, on the computer, when I go to sleep, whenever I can.

What do you do when you listen to music? What does the song mean to you? Does it remind you of that one person you hung out with while listening to that song? Does it remind you of some time in your life? Does it bring up feelings?

My dear friend, Suzanne Stafford, made me a mixed CD when we first started playing music together. We were both broken hearted at the time, and channeled our emotions into our music to create the sound for Come Hell or High Water. That sound has now changed a bit due to our outstanding band mates, but now I'm getting off track.

The CD that Suzanne made for me still brings up a lot of feelings for me. Some tracks get me a little choked up. Some make me smile at our amazing friendship, while others put me right back in that living room where I first listened to the collection- over and over and over. I can smell the dog-eaten couch. I can taste the bitterness in my bourbon. I can see the old carpet on the floor. I remember feeling so lonely, but knowing I wasn't entirely alone. How could I be truly alone if all of these songs were written and recorded by artists who obviously felt the way I was feeling? How could I be alone if my friend also felt these things?

Some of the music I listen to is old, some new, some cool, and some not.

Suzanne's daughter, Ollie, has heard us play music her whole life. Come Hell or High Water played a show a week or two before she was born. Suzanne's guitar was pressed against her very pregnant belly. I can only imagine what that sounded like to the unborn Ollie. Suzanne's beautiful voice has been heard by Ollie since she was a blip on an ultrasound.

This year Ollie turned 3. Melodi and Harry and I got her a kid's size drum kit which she played like an animal. It was one of my favorite moments.

I just met Melodi's nephew, Sam, 4 1/2 years old. I brought my acoustic guitar on our trip to Brooklyn and played some songs for him. He really enjoyed strumming the strings while I held the guitar and made chords with my left hand. He sang and made up songs like Rockaway Christmas, Little Sister Go Away, and Elephant on the Roof (the last one was a joint effort between he and I about an elephant and a rocket ship on his roof- as neither of those things would fit in their brownstone). Sam hit his head earlier today and I was able to cheer him up by playing a punk rock version of We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and drawing up a sketch of an invention we were talking over in which an electric guitar could be fashioned to shoot flames out of the bottom. We later upgraded this idea to double as a jet pack.

I played the wrong chords to We Wish You A Merry Christmas- and every song that he wanted to sing that I didn't know- but it didn't matter. His freestyle about his sister (8 months old) touched on the fact that he has to deal with her getting more and more attention.

When you listen to music you use a very large percentage of your brain. Playing music uses even more as you engage in it physically. How can music not be important?

I wonder, occasionally, what I'm doing with my life; devoting my time to playing and writing songs. I want to play better, write better, and touch someone with one of my songs- like all of these songs and experiences with music have touched me. I wonder if it's all worth it, if music even matters. Then I hear that one song, or see a friend perform his or her new tune, or see that one band play with that great sound, and it moves the Earth. If I can one day do that for someone else- I'm a success in my mind. So to me, it matters. Music matters. Music is important to me- kind of like food, or my glasses.

Please comment below on this. Tell me I'm crazy- or you know what I'm getting at.

How important is music to you? What are you listening to?

- matty sheets

A Farewell (sort of) to James Marshall Owen. (origins of Eating the Invaders)

Years ago (three, four, five? Time goes by so fast), I met James Marshall Owen at the Open Mic I have been hosting at the Flatiron in Greensboro, NC. I have been hosting this weekly event for eight years now. This month is actually our anniversary month, which is why I can safely say how many years that was, but not how long it has been since I met Marshall.

I feel like I've always known him now. He is easily in the top five most talented performers we have ever had roll through the doors to the Open Mic. Once he started singing and playing his guitar (exceptional guitar player- and he was twenty years old at the time. Wait. He's twenty-four now, we met when he was twenty... Ok, ok, I met him four years ago. I should start over), I knew he was one of a kind.

Four years ago we met and I wanted to play with music with him. We were just starting to get to know each other when we were in Eating the Invaders, but we quickly became friends - despite our differences (me writing silly songs with a few chords, and him thinking a diminished chord would be nice under his wicked guitar solo). Seriously though, we hit it off and ended up playing music together ever since. Hopefully that will never go away, no matter which city we live in.

After getting the name Eating the Invaders from a friend describing a spider who was eating ants that were stealing the spider's eggs, I went to Nate's Place to see one of Marshall's bands perform. I parked the scooter I was driving at the time and before I could get inside, here comes Marshall.

"Someone canceled, can you open for us?" he asked me.
"I don't have my stuff, I'm on my scooter."
"Use my stuff. We need an opener."

At the microphone for the first time at Nate's Place (and so far the only time, I think), I said- "Hello, my name is Eating the Invaders."

So now I needed a band to use the name. Along with Marshall on guitar, I recruited Barry Staples (a friend of mine who used to play drums at our house back in the Deviled Eggs days. He actually bought us our kick pedal) on drums, Gael McKeon (a new friend, he started playing with Come Hell or High Water around the same time) on upright bass, and Don Ravon (now a staple performer at Open Mic. Then, a new-comer.) on vocals with me. They were all my first picks, and I was honored and excited that they were interested.

We rehearsed for the first time on a Sunday (five songs), and played our first show the next day. Our second show was the day after that.

That band went through changes over the years, losing Gael and Don, gaining Little Mikey Roohan (Gino), Jason Voss, and the uncanny Mr. David Driveway Moore. Then after losing Little Mikey and Voss, we were a four piece at the end.

Yes, the end. We disbanded last year, this month.

I met James Marshall Owen five or six years ago, and I learned a lot from him. I can sing with others now, I can hold a vocal line where it needs to be without just going all crazy and stuff, and I've done things musically that I never knew I could do. Thanks so much for that.

By the way, Marshall is moving to Austin in two weeks.

Eating the Invaders is going to play one more time.

to be continued...

-matty sheets


Eating the Invaders in Harvey's Kitchen.
JMO's farewell show 1
JMO's farewell show 2

Greensboro Fest and Tate Street Festival: An Inspiring and Pleasantly Exhausting Weekend

I used to wonder why Greensboro felt like home. After moving here for four delightful years of teapots, potlucks, papers, and panel discussions at Guilford College, there was suddenly nothing to do but wait tables and . . . wait. I wasn't sure what for, but as it turned out, I was waiting for a construction tractor to run into my car on Friendly Avenue, forcing me to take leave from work so that I might pick up the dusty guitar that I'd been meaning to learn to play, spend my Tuesday nights at The Flatiron's Open Microphone (which, incidentally, is hosted by our fearless leader, Matty Sheets), write songs, and discover the incredibly supportive and welcoming community of musicians in this town, a community which continues to remind me of almost everything that I want from this life.

Between playing and listening at Greensboro Fest and Tate Street Festival this weekend, Blockheads were perpetually reminded that Greensboro is bursting at the seams with music. Thursday night at Legitimate Business in the Glenwood neighborhood, Casual Curious, Sugar High Gang, and Israel Darling (who will be joining us as we serenade Center City Park this Friday) kicked off Greensboro Fest, which proved to be a weekend packed with music at multiple venues every single night. Friday evening, we shared the stage at Lyndon Street Artworks with old and new friends from Pinche Gringo, Romancer, N'DangR Species, Holy Ghost Tent Revival, Resister, and several other bands. So many folks showed up that Lyndon Street artist, Anni Frohlich, even decided at the last minute to set up shop in the parking lot, discovering a number of new admirers for her eco-inspired collage jewelry.

Friday evening proved to be so much fun that some/most/(all?) of us had trouble rousing ourselves bright and early the next day to kick off the live music at this year's Tate Street Festival. With the help of several rounds of coffee and many familiar faces (some of you even braving the day with your very own hangovers, and we love you for it!) shining at us from the impressively chipper audience, we managed to muster all the same excitement from the night before. Have we mentioned that you guys are the best? After battling the heat onstage, we were relieved to sit back and enjoy music from the Ben Jensen Jazz Trio, The Brand New Life, Bruce Piephoff, and Braco. While Jon, Jerrod, Matty, and Harry were saving it up for performances later in the evening with the bands featuring their alternate creative identities, Little P and I were recovering from heat exhaustion . As I slowly regained my energy, Little P made fun of me for insisting upon spraying her down with sunscreen and then moving on to spray the pinkest members of the crowd near us (strangers or not), but I paid no mind, as I firmly believe that, while we do so solemnly love our critter buddies under the sea, no land mammal deserves to become a lobster simply for the love of music.

Little P proved my point when she showed up to Studio B on Saturday night thirsting for aloe vera. Nonetheless, she proved to be the same ball of energy that we love so much, ready to rock out in the front row for Funny Like a Funeral, The Lake Isle, Decoration Ghost, and Come Hell Or High Water, featuring our favorite frontwoman Suzanne Stafford as well as our very own Harrison Barrow (on piano) and Matty Sheets (on slide guitar and vocals). By this point in the weekend, we heard several folks singing the praises of Greensboro Fest organizers Mike Wallace and Sam Bridges over what a smashing hit each show had been so far. Magically, some of us managed to make it over to The Blind Tiger afterwards in time to hear even MORE Blockheads doing double duty. Jon Bohlen, upright bass player for the Blockheads, put his electric hat on while Jerrod Smith, our creative percussionist, broke out his fanciest guitar licks so that the Leeves could keep the Tate Street Festival After-party going into the wee hours of the morning Sunday.

By this point, my personal level of exhaustion had made me terrified that I might never wake up Sunday in time to be at Legitimate Business for the fourth and final night of Greensboro Fest with all the necessities: a covered dish, songs to sing, and my beloved Baby Teeth on mandolin, cello, and upright bass. We made it to the venue just in time to catch James Marshall Owen and Molly McGinn jamming in the rain under an old gas station awning next door and feed them some barbeque quinoa, which apparently mixes right nicely in the bowl with homemade vegan chili. Once we'd warmed our bellies, we gathered around to hear Liz Kraszeski and Allison Weldon (formerly of Mama Got Saved) as well as James Marshall Owen as they played acoustic sets, followed by The Baby Teeth. I even heard tell that someone from WUAG was there recording the show live for broadcast on Radio Greensboro. Hopefully they caught the entire evening, because Eszett, Secret Message Machine, Torch Runner, and The Bronzed Chorus made for a fabulous ending to an incredibly exhausting but delightfully inspiring weekend.

We were so inspired, as a matter of fact, that instead of stumbling home to bed, more than a few Blockheads managed to keep their eyes open for one last hurrah at our dear friend Suzanne's house, where we engaged in what might only be described as rowdy musical incest with members of both Come Hell Or High Water and The Baby Teeth as well as former members of Eating the Invaders. As we sang together, several of us smacked on drums and a cast-iron pan as Barry Staples held down the beat, Harry and Gael and Matty played piano with Little P on accordion and random crocodile xylophone solos, Aren chimed in on mandolin, Suzanne broke out the rarest of her original tunes on guitar, Marshall and I passed the banjo back and forth until he fell asleep sitting up (prompting us to write what I believe might be the 79th impromptu tune in Greensboro history about Marshall's uncanny tendency to fall asleep sitting up), and I realized that, like so many of the Greensboro musicians who are part of the wonderful, supportive community that made this weekend possible, we just can't help ourselves.

Even at the end of the playing and show-going marathon, when we should be in bed, our droopy eyes and fading voices and tired, callused fingers will continue to play, with or without us. Whether we have the right equipment or the best sound guy or the perfect venue, it seems we have no choice. So thank you, Greensboro, for giving us the time and the place to do it up right this weekend. You're the best.

-emily stewart