#335: The NEW No Depression, Jerry Seinfeld and Fried Clams
So the current proprietors are finally going to flip the switch on the new website platform this week…and they’ve advised us not to worry or be concerned, but they also suggested that we might want to hold back on posting any new stories for a day or so until the kinks are worked out.
Ha. Are they kidding? I would never miss out on the chance of doing one more for the road.
After over five years of writing on the original old crunchy granola site with 334 separate posts under my belt (stories, interviews, critiques, profiles, rambles, obits and photo-essays), thousands and thousands of comments (I imagine I should say I’m sorry to any I’ve offended…if I have time later on, maybe I will), countless pics, videos, Tweets, updates, groups, forums, songs and messages…after five long years I get to powder my nose, put on some fresh paint, get a shot of botox here…and here…and maybe here…and start all over.
The other 334 posts before this one? My legacy?
The official line: “All posts you have made on the Ning site until today should be on the new site when it launches tomorrow night. But, there may be some that slip through the cracks, considering we’re moving tens of thousands of posts from five years of content.”
The non-techie end user translation: “You got a 50/50 chance on losing everything.”
Oh well. I’m actually not all that concerned. When a new owner buys a baseball team, they don’t want to knock down the stadium and build a new one, do they?
A few hours ago I was exchanging emails with Chris Wadsworth, who purchased this joint from Kyla Fairchild earlier this year. Never met the man, but over the last few months we’ve spoken once or twice, written back and forth on many occasions and I like him. More important, I trust him. Of all the prospective buyers, we could have ended up with a Rupert Murdoch for christsakes. But we got ourselves a music man.
Anyway, in describing my writing process and style, I wrote to Chris that “I usually enjoy just sitting down and writing about nothing. The Seinfeld blog of No Depression.”
Not as funny, certainly not as lucrative. But there is something truthful in that statement. For the past five years I’ve been able to forego expensive therapy sessions and dump out the remnants of my mind on these pages. Sometimes you liked it. Other times you hated it. Often you just ignored it.
And thus is the beauty of having a community based website: you can all join in. Or saying it in another way: you are what you eat.
There are no auditions, submissions, tuitions, ambitions, special skill sets or knowledge. I can tell you that Hank Williams is still alive and living in Boise Idaho, and that Elvis comes over with the wife and kids every other Sunday for chicken and peanut butter sandwiches, and who’s gonna argue with that? We can have a sixteen page discussion about the virtues of Howard Johnson’s Fried Clam Strips and nobody can stop us. An educated woman from Canada can wax poetically about Rush and Geddy Lee, and a guy from the UK can post almost-daily comic strips that make absolutely no sense whatsoever to me, but I would miss terribly if they weren’t there.
It’s been a great ride, you know? I love what y’all contributed over the years. I’ve learned so much about music and the people who create it. And about towns and cities I’ve never been to, festivals and concerts I’d never get to see, history and science and literature and friendship. Especially that.
Kim, Kyla, Grant, Jack, Jack W., Alan, Adam, Stina, Ten Layers, Paul, Eli, the other Paul, Chris, Devon, Sandy, Kathy, Hal Doug, Bill, Lee, Michael, Craig, Mando, Byron, Gillian (I forgive you for Rush), Amos, swt, Bob, Dana, Will…oh hell, I can’t remember all of your names over the years and this is turning into a weird roots Romper Room.
Here’s hoping the techie people that Chris has working for him are able to pull all those millions and millions of words and photos and videos we each worked so hard into putting up here for all to share and experience, onto the new platform. Imagine it’s worse than threading a needle in the dark. But if for some reason it all falls apart and gets lost in space, so what? For me, it’s been loads of fun and I’ll always have these memories.
When they flip the switch, I’m sure of just one thing: I’ll be there. And the music will be too.