CHRIS KOZA

Oh Beloit… Sunsets here have their own special flavor;...

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 18:20:09 -0500

Oh Beloit… Sunsets here have their own special flavor; cotton candy clouds drift above and behind the kale-green and rusted ochre facades of the downtown sky-skimmers. There is no scraping here.

The endlessly inspiring rain in Rock Island, IL John S Lens,...

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 18:43:15 -0500

The endlessly inspiring rain in Rock Island, IL

John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Merry Ann’s Diner in Champaign, IL John S Lens,...

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 00:21:36 -0500

Merry Ann’s Diner in Champaign, IL

John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

From Saguaros to Snowfall

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 04:33:29 -0500

2/1/2012: Rogue Valley

El Centro: 77 degrees. Yuma: 78 degrees.

The dream of San Diego faded with every rotation of the tires on the Town and Country. Leaving the ocean behind is like giving back the finest gift to a giver who already has everything. We maintained a solid 79 mph through California and the desert en route to Phoenix, where we were set to play that night.

“The Rhythm Room,” written in a jolly script on a big sign planted near the street adjacent to an empty parking lot identified a building that otherwise looked vacant. We rapped on the door and waited for signs of life, which only took a few moments.

Inside, the venue was pretty classic. 8x10 black and white head shots of blues singers from another generation lined the walls. We set up our gear and after soundcheck, I chatted with the handful of friends and their friends trickling in while the rest of the band left to get tacos. The opener had canceled the day before so we were the only act. We could have used some local support, but we performed the best we knew how for the folks that made the trip.

Phoenix: 72 degrees. Tuba City: 44 degrees. Moab 40 degrees. Grand Junction: 34 degrees.

The next morning, we rose early to catch the saddest continental breakfast I’ve ever seen: six bagels, two chocolate muffins, and half a pot of room temperature coffee. Out of sheer negligence, this defeats the Capri Suns and Pop Tarts we once experienced. Yes, they were serious.

We bolted from Phoenix, covering nearly 575 miles and a 40 degree temperature difference. We drove through Arizona, past the Grand Canyon and Four Corners; some of the better flying saucer sighting spots in the southwest. Utah was a vast wilderness. When we finally arrived in Grand Junction we drove straight to the venue, discovering an open blues jam going on until 10:15pm. We were the 10:30pm show, billed on their dry-erase board as “Rouge Valley Blues.” The misspelling as “Rouge” is common enough, but the “Blues” tacked on the end… All you can do is laugh.

One thing I try hard never to do is judge anything about a pending performance in advance. Whether it’s an ornate theater or a husk with a makeshift stage. I don’t make assumptions based on the sign out front, the marquee, the bouncer, the clientele, the beer prices, the staff, or the other bands playing. The way I see it, I am a guest in someone else’s home, and I want to do right. We ended up having a jolly old time that night, and although we didn’t play blues, we powered through a double-long set, aided by a generous bartender, and afterwards met several unique, forthcoming, and good-humored folks.

The container of ibuprofen was in hot demand the next morning. We called in for late check out and treaded gingerly once on the road, keeping volumes and speed lower than on other days. Heading towards Denver, the temperature continued to fall, hovering around 36 degrees once we emerged from the winding, snow-speckled Rocky Mountains. We sat down in a coffee shop near the venue and were promptly warned by a young lap-topper there, that we were on the verge of a major storm-front. 12-24 inches of snow by the next morning. For all of the good-weather luck we’d cashed in on during this tour, our luck was soon to change.

From 7pm-midnight, Denver went from zero to nearly a foot of snow. Needless to say, this did not improve the attendance at the show. Text messages vibrated my phone, with apologies that the weather was too severe to navigate. Legislature and all schools and universities would be canceled the next day. But we would wake early to dig out the van, spin our wheels, and push on to make our final stops.

Tour Van in Lincoln, NE.. proof you can’t run forever.

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 12:40:57 -0500

Tour Van in Lincoln, NE.. proof you can’t run forever.

Tour Diary: Comfort Zone

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 03:06:00 -0500

Everyone slept in late the next morning, Portland was its grey, soaking wet, bone-chilling wintery self, but despite the uninviting weather, I felt compelled to put on my running shoes, a stocking cap, call my brother, and get a few miles in before anyone else was up.

That afternoon we headed north to Seattle for our show at the High Dive in the Freemont Neighborhood. If you don’t know where that is, just ask someone where in Seattle the giant statue of Lennon and the neon-swim-cap wearing-lady-diver convene. The sound man had it dialed in, and we ripped through our set, starting with False Floors and ending with Rockaway.

We made the late-night drive south to Portland after the show in Seattle, relying on Tom Petty and an episode of Arrested Development to keep our eyes open. I bought a bag of jalepeno potato chips which perked me up better than coffee ever has. Why people don’t start their day off with spicy crisps versus a boiling black beverage, I don’t know.

The next night we did our club show in Portland at a vibey new near the east waterfront called Bunk Bar. I had never heard of it, but when I checked out their website, Polica and Cursive were both on their schedule, so I knew it was legit. Since we had a long drive to San Francisco the next day, we played our set, saw some friends, and did a respectable job of behaving and getting to bed at an early hour.

Salem: 49 degrees. Mt. Shasta: 38 degrees. Sacramento: 61 degrees. San Francisco: 57 degrees. After a day of exceptional driving, we arrived in one of our favorite cities from our fall 2011 tour. We had a show at the same venue, Hotel Utah, and this time were sharing the bill with Safe (SF) and Butter (Missoula). All of the familiar faces were there, from sound man, to bartender, to audience. We all shared this strange sensation that right then and there, no time had passed; that there are different orbits coexisting and that minutes and hours, and details as such are relative and irrelevant.

The next day we found Baker Beach steeped in a fog so thick, it swallowed every man-made and natural landmark. The waves crashed violently over the cement-like sand, and the seagulls punctured the clouds with their shrill cries. I started taking some video footage that I had in mind for a music video but stopped after a few shots. Sometimes the lens gets in the way.

The Pacific Coast on an ultra-foggy day in San Francisco

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 03:03:00 -0500

The Pacific Coast on an ultra-foggy day in San Francisco

Driving Possessed Kaimal Mark II Lens, Blanko Film, No Flash,...

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:17:19 -0500

Driving Possessed

Kaimal Mark II Lens, Blanko Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Jesse James on the air in Northfield, MN.

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 12:07:31 -0500

Jesse James on the air in Northfield, MN.

Where Are We ? John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No...

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 13:46:51 -0500

Where Are We ?

John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Feeling Manley Today John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No...

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 14:05:02 -0500

Feeling Manley Today

John S Lens, Ina’s 1969 Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Gabe Douglas & the4onthefloor ringing out 2011 to a packed...

Sun, 01 Jan 2012 00:40:39 -0500

Gabe Douglas & the4onthefloor ringing out 2011 to a packed house at the Triple Rock!

Jimmy Lens, Blanko Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Winter is finally staking it’s claim. Poor fella…

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 13:43:39 -0500

Winter is finally staking it’s claim. Poor fella…

Lakeshore Effect

Thu, 29 Dec 2011 12:41:51 -0500

Last October, while in Milwaukee, I was pleased to meet up with Trapper Schoepp and the skilled engineers at WUWM public radio. We recorded a segment that you can stream here:

http://www.wuwm.com/programs/lake_effect/le_sgmt.php?segmentid=8549

The Tongue That Bites

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 10:26:06 -0500

You know what it’s like when someone is giving you an earful. Tat feeling is easy to recognize. Why does it become difficult to recognize the opposite of that feeling - when you are the one doling it out? When buying gas today the clerk asked me if I really wanted as much as I was ging to purchase, since it was much more complicated to do the refund than it was just to choose a different amount to begin with. I think it is always much easier to offer less because taking anything back, once put forth, is a tangled mess.

The Ghost of Christmas Future is Death. First Blondie then The...

Mon, 26 Dec 2011 10:26:06 -0500

The Ghost of Christmas Future is Death. First Blondie then The Linebacker, then a hideous blood-chilling merciless wraith. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a soul harvesting ghoul. But the point is clear. Dickens is giving us the ultimatum: Love and be loved, or wither away disrespected. Kindness is not afforded to the unkind.

I have to admit, the mind has a way of wandering; thoughts have a way of collapsing further and further into themselves. It is not hard to see the seeds of greed and selfishness, for they are plentiful. Dickens classic tale has less to do with Christmas and more to do with awareness. The Christmas theme is appealing and convenient for putting the theme within a digestible context, but it is more than a holiday story.

The dark days of winter are full of color and vibrancy. The trees may be bare, but they are alive. The water may be frozen, but it is has only been slowed. Speed is relative. It is a time as good as any to celebrate one another. The possibilities are great. Be awake. One Way or Another…

When the clock strikes 2am, it means the ghost of Christmas...

Sun, 25 Dec 2011 11:52:25 -0500

When the clock strikes 2am, it means the ghost of Christmas Present is nigh. If your name is Scrooge, you will be visited by a huge bearded linebacker wearing a dreamy green robe. He will be sitting amidst a buffet of candied meats and sugar plums, laughing heartily. You don’t mess with the ghost of Christmas Present. If you think you are hallucinating, and perhaps it is merely a figment of excess Drambuie, or one too many spoonfuls of figgy pudding, cast aside your doubts and realize that it is possible to be mistaken.

I believe in the paranormal; in spirits and ghosts and U.F.O.’s, etc. I don’t know how I feel about Roswell, but I have a couple of strange saucer stories I will save for another time. I would love to visit Our Lady or Guadelupe, and I don’t mean it as disrespectful to consider its inspiring miracle paranormal. It’s hard to disagree that its an unusual way for water to behave.

These overlapping realities submerge one in pleasant and powerful memories. It is easy to forget about the moment and dwell in the past, but it comes at the expense of the feast quickly spoiling. Be well and Happy Holidays. Hug a Mall Santa or a salvation army bell ringer if you must, but by no means horde your affection or let it be idle.

Dicken’s classic tale “A Christmas Carol” has...

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 11:15:00 -0500

Dicken’s classic tale “A Christmas Carol” has been told and retold in many variations ( Micky’s Christmas Carol; Scrooged; Jim Carey’s version; even The Jetsons had one). The one I’m thinking of right now is the version I’ve just watched which stars a brilliant George C. Scott as everyone’s favorite fictional Yuletide tightwad Ebeneezer Scrooge.

The story is heartwarming, moving, sentimental, and I think for many, is a holiday tradition. It is inspiring, and on this night, doubly inspiring. After watching the film, I became compelled to smile, honestly and without irony. I tried to find cynical critiques about the film, but was effectively swept up in the message of it all. There was, however, the detail that the ghost of Christmas Past positively looks like Debbie Harry or possibly a deranged relative of said singer of The Rock n Roll Hall of Fame legends, Blondie.

The holiday season, for me, is a time of wandering through fond old memories, and generating new ones. Not everything fond is happy, nor sad, but are small interactions many times inconsequential at the time that grow like unanticipated seeds into a wilderness.

Tree buds John S Lens, Kodot XGrizzled Film, No Flash, Taken...

Fri, 23 Dec 2011 19:24:19 -0500

Tree buds

John S Lens, Kodot XGrizzled Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic

Joey Waiting Patiently Like an Angel of Solstice for Soundcheck...

Wed, 21 Dec 2011 18:44:16 -0500

Joey Waiting Patiently Like an Angel of Solstice for Soundcheck

John S Lens, Kodot XGrizzled Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic