#alexdezen

Bear with me.  I haven’t written a music review since covering a Midnight Oil show for my college paper in 2001.  Personally, I thought I had a unique perspective as no one else seemed to go to shows while busy being studious, but one response was an anonymous letter to the editor: “No one cares about a date Liz Green had to see a band no one has heard of.”  Fair enough, callow youth, fair enough.

Two things you need to know about me:  

 1.)  I live for music - it’s how I relate to other people.

 2.)  I reside in a town where everything I want to see or do it a minimum of 3 hours in any direction.  Every now and then something cool will happen, but there’s usually a 3-5 year gap between these cool occurrences.   You want something amazing to happen you either go find it or you make it happen yourself.  I made it happen once.  And it was stressful … and expensive.  So we prefer the seeking.

I had the good fortune to meet an older boy with similar sensibilities.  I always bemoaned the fact that there were no songs with my name in them:  Elizabeth has too many syllables, Liz not enough.  Up until this moment, I’d had to adopt “Beth” by Kiss.  He gave me a Hex song with my first AND last name in it, “Elizabeth Green, deep and serene.”  So I gave the boy my heart and he gave me his name.  Together we go out in to the world looking for the things that set us on fire.

The giving of songs is how I express myself.  Though I have a literary side, my degree is in business and my logical side tells me that someone has probably already described the things I’m thinking or feeling and has probably done it a lot more eloquently than I ever could.  The right song is out there for every situation... you just have to know where to look.  

A fight, the silent treatment from my husband, an uncomfortable car ride:  Rush’s “Open Secrets” on my iPod: “I never meant what you’re thinking.  That’s not what I meant at all.”  A friend dealing with heartache and a lying lover?  “The Wreckers” also by Rush.  Another friend’s husband passed away.  I gave her “Take my Heart” by Caroline’s Spine.  “Just in case I lose this race, I’ll always be there watching over you…”  Even if the song didn’t quite hit them the way it hit me, to accept the giving of a song is to accept the giver.

Seven months ago, two friends in tow and tickets to see Marty Willson-Piper in hand, we sped toward Fort Worth.  We were late.  A thing that often happens when work and driving and days of the week get in the way.  “It’s ok,” I assured my husband, “There are two openers.  We have plenty of time.  We won’t miss anything.”  Ha.  Prepare to eat your words in 3…2…1…

The order was Salim Nourallah, “Laish” (a British band fronted by Danny Green.  The band was absent due to the financial constraints of intercontinental travel so I started thinking of Danny as Laish sort of like Bono or Cher), and Marty Willson-Piper - Mr Willson-Piper being the former lead guitarist of the Church - my husband’s favorite band and consequently a band we’d been seeing together since 2002.  We only had tickets to that show, but after we were blown away by each performance in Fort Worth, we noticed the tour was EIGHT Texas shows long.  NO ONE gives that much love to Texas.  No one.

We proceeded to attend three more: Cactus Cafe in Austin and the two shows at the Palo Santo Galactic Headquarters - words that held zero meaning to me until I actually went there: it’s a space Salim set up next to his recording studio in Dallas.  The space accommodates about 30 and is the perfect location for comfortable, intimate shows.  Palo Santo is the independent record label founded by Salim and the similarly incomparable Sarah Henry.  

During this run of shows, I got to talk to Salim both in person and on Facebook.  I learned that he was not an “opener” for Marty Willson-Piper, he was the mastermind that made the whole tour happen.  I signed up for his mailing list and even if the name is tongue in cheek - The Cult of Nourallah - it’s spot on.  Salim is the most charismatic person you will ever meet.  If he thinks you should listen to a certain artist or album, it will appear on your chosen music player.  If he really did want to start a cult, you’d go buy whatever color shoes he instructed.  And he does it all with a calm, quiet, reassuring presence that lets the music speak for itself.

After these shows, I started listening to Salim’s albums.  All of them.  A lot.

No really… a LOT.

His style is simple, clean and straight forward.  The songs are heartfelt and often autobiographical.  Though coming from a musical background of performance and recording with his brother Faris, Salim’s solo career began in 2004 with the album “Polaroid” and has spanned the next prolific fifteen years to 2018’s “Somewhere South of Sane.”

I quickly assimilated the music from his albums in to my personal first aid kit of songs.  I recently helped a friend through a painful divorce and played Salim’s “It’s Ok to Be Sad” for her.  The idea is often something overlooked in adulthood and though it seems simplistic, the act of permission can be profound.  It’s ok to be sad.  It’s ok to mourn.  Things don’t work out.  

I ended up giving that friend Salim’s entire “Somewhere South of Sane” vinyl set.  SSOS is an album that I digested in pieces myself .  The songs feel so personal - the songwriter’s own heartbreak on public display - the act of musical consumption feels like voyeurism.  Spying through a window at people hurting each other.  It reminded me so much of my own first marriage - at a much too early age - and divorce that it was difficult to hear.  I felt well armed in that moment and profoundly grateful that Salim gave me something that I was able to pass on in the name of healing through the acceptance of grief.

While I put my arms around my friend at the local courthouse and held her through the end of her marriage, I struggled in my own personal life with a health scare that could possibly change everything.  I held on to Salim’s “Don’t Be Afraid” at this time and probably listened to it twenty times.  I’ll try not to be afraid.  I’ll try.  I’ll try to be brave… still, Salim, keep telling me.  It’s nice to hear.  Ultimately, after an agonizing length of time (agony and length only felt by the person in it), I learned I was ok.  Here I appreciate Salim’s “Goddamn Life” (Hit Parade, 2012.)  I’m so in love with my goddamn life.  It may be scary and it may hurt at times, but look at the alternative… right?

There’s a certain degree of uncertainty in being a member of the human race.  We all secretly think we are doing it differently and most probably wrong.  We toil next to each other in silence and the great tragedy is: we’re all doing it pretty much the same, but we don’t know that.  To be unsure of this, but to put it in song anyway and then present for the world to hear takes bravery I cannot even comprehend.  Trying to describe love is like trying to describe the color blue.  You put your song out there with the secret fear: what if that’s not love?  What if that’s not blue?  What if I’m doing it wrong?  What if everyone else sees things differently?  What if there’s something wrong with me?

* * *

Fast forward to last weekend - Saturday May the 4th.  I had the honor of gathering with Salim and his friends to celebrate with a retrospective show at Palo Santo.  

“If I really had to break it down,” Salim told us when announcing the event, “the one that thing that has meant the most to me is writing songs.  So it seemed fitting to spend my upcoming birthday not only with my real family but also with my ‘other’ family: my family of songs.  I'm sure you've probably heard songwriters refer to their songs being almost like children.  It's a hard thing to describe…”

But he does describe it in “Stranger in My Own Skin” (Constellation, 2009), “I’m gonna take some pain and stick it to a tune so you can sing along, get the words all wrong.”  And he did.  He stuck pain to a lot of tunes.  Pain, laughter, love, heart break, friendship, desire, despair, betrayal...  He stuck feelings to 15 years worth of tunes and more and on Saturday he indulged us in tastes from each album to commemorate another year of his existence on this planet.

The vibe was laid back and friendly - Palo Santo is like no other place you will ever experience.  It’s more like going over to Salim’s house, his face lights up and he says “Here, let me play something for you…”

The configuration was different this time than others I had been in attendance there.  Chairs were arranged on three sides, a seat and a guitar against the wall in the middle.  When Salim took his place in front of us, the small crowd immediately fell silent - not like fearing the wrath of a teacher chiding students for talking, but more like the anticipation of watching a magician about to perform a magic trick.  

And there was a magic trick of a sort:  projected on the wall above Salim’s head was suddenly the album cover of “Polaroid.”  Salim chatted about this cover and each subsequent one as he told stories about each and sang the songs he chose to represent that album and period in his life.  We were instructed to sing along and we did so - almost reverently - with Salim’s guidance.

Set one covered: Polaroid, Beautiful Noise, Snowing in My Heart, Constellation and Hit Parade (2004-2012).  We then took a break to share a fabulous cake, chat and sing Salim “Happy Birthday.”

Set two then covered: Friends for Life, Skeleton Closet, The Travoltas, NHD (Salim’s project with Billy Harvey and Alex Dezen) album And the Devil Went up to Portland, and finally Somewhere South of Sane (2012-2018).

Though Salim got to what was supposed to be the final song from SSOS, “Rainbow Dolphins” was then brought up by an audience member.  Salim just grinned and assured us he could play that too.  And he did.

I didn’t want the evening to end.  We all filed out of Palo Santo in to an absolutely beautiful, cool Dallas night.  We chatted with each other and eventually goodbyes were said and people began to wander away.  I yawned one too many times and may or may not have enjoyed just a touch too much wine.  My husband, Doug, eventually took my hand, we thanked Salim and drifted away ourselves.

The magic doesn’t have to end quite yet as Salim has put up part two of the birthday retrospective for sale next weekend (a few tickets remain and can be acquired here: https://www.prekindle.com/event/26257-birthday-retrospective-salim-nourallah-2nd-show-dallas).  This was a singularly unique event and though lightning isn't supposed to strike twice, if anyone could make that happen, it is Salim.  Next weekend will be just as magical.

Links of interest:

https://www.instagram.com/palosantorecords/

https://www.instagram.com/salimnourallah/

http://salimnourallah.com/

https://palosantotx.com/

https://www.facebook.com/salimnourallah/