It is my personal belief that Brian Cassagnol is a genius.  Now, I know the term, “genius” gets thrown around a lot, but I feel compelled to stress that my deeming someone a genius should not be taken lightly.  The criteria is as follows: said “genius” must be a) smarter than I am in some field that I maintain to have expert knowledge in, and b) everybody knows that a good outline needs to have at least 2 points per subheading… hence, point (b).  For those of you who are unaware, Brian Cassagnol is Mieka Pauley’s guitarist, music director, and engineer of an overly elaborate and menacingly complicated system of guitar effects pedals.  Brian has had a huge part in helping steer the sonic landscape of Mieka Pauley’s music in a direction that the rest of the band and fans alike have been coming to recognize as fresh, innovative, and a shit-load louder than it was before.  In addition to Mieka Pauley’s music, Brian also fronts his own band, “The Books of Brian”, in which he sings… better than I can… technically making him a genius by my definition of the word.  In addition to Brian’s “vocal performance genius”, Brian also knows a lot more shit than I do about classical music, music theory, opera, and “staying calm when you’re super late for some shit that you weren’t supposed to be super late for”.  I am fiercely envious of this last manifestation of genius… which brings me to the point of this blog post.

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The title of this blog entry is a direct quote: “I don’t know how to do this,” is something that Mieka said to me on stage during a show at Rockwood Music Hall, recently. I can’t remember if I actually heard the words come out of her mouth. I’m pretty sure that I saw her mouth move in the shape of the words, but…well… it’s just not that important to the story, ok? You see, Mieka has a certain magic about her. She has the power to express, whether she wants it or not. She need not speak. She need not gesture. She needn’t do anything at all, and you are bound to feel her fury; her joy; her despair; her mind-bogglingly neurotic panic. Much of the time, it’s her eyes that do the talking. Mieka’s eyes are beautifully expressive. Even when they are wide with incensed rage, you can’t help but admire their depth. They’re just so big. Often, I’ll find myself gawking in astonished wonderment as Mieka rips me a new one about one thing or another. It’s best not to drift too far out. The sea is uneven. Jagged shards of broken ice bob helplessly amongst inconsistently spaced white-capping waves that head in all directions. Unexplained shipwreck debris finds itself battered into kindling as it claws its way amidst the loosely packed ice, beneath a foreboding and thunderous sky. Lo! A voice; an unseen siren song beckons from the dark horizon… “Are you fucking kidding me?! Have you been listening to anything that I’m saying???” Sorry, Mieka.

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