Taylor Streiff

Chicago | St. Louis | Musician | Food Enthusiast | World Traveler | 🎹🍴🍺⚾️

[jtstreiff]

Back at it tonight at JV’s in Falls Church, VA! #touringmusician #chicagoblues #bluespiano #nickmossband #alligatorrecords (at JV's Restaurant) https://www.instagram.com/p/BpqLVCCHtRA/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1kxdfmc2jwgb0

[jtstreiff]

Back at it tonight in Copenhagen! #nickmossband #touringmusician #chicagoblues #alligatorrecords #bluespiano https://www.instagram.com/p/BpZ5prqnbFN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=f0hnnr956f1j

[jtstreiff]

I’m a couple days late, but on 9/27/1998, my brother, dad, and myself witnessed Mark McGwire’s 69th and 70th home runs on the final day of his historic season. I’ll never forget the day I told my dad while he was raking leaves in the front yard that I thought “Big Mac” would hit 69 home runs, and then going absolutely nuts when he hit number 69 in his first at bat of that game. This season alone made me a baseball fan for life, and so many others. After McGwire’s historic season, international interest in baseball continued to skyrocket, which is partially why the game is where it is today, flooded with a seemingly innumerable amount of international players, some of who are the best in the game. And that is a good thing. I pray that baseball continues to have some sort of positive impact throughout our lifetimes, considering that it’s brought joy to so many parts of the world. There’s an unfortunate amount of alienation and divisiveness that’s occurring in America right now, and it makes me incredibly sad and confused. I’m just happy that an American institution and tradition still has some power to bring parts of the world together. Those who don’t like sports will most likely vehemently oppose my opinion. But baseball is important to the United States, and it’s important to the world. #stlouiscardinals #markmcgwire #mlb #baseball https://www.instagram.com/p/BoUb2jIAqLr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1fxg94v17o7tl

[jtstreiff]

Haugesund 🇳🇴 #norwaytour2018 #worldtraveler #touringmusician (at Haugesund, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnvljiplfCj/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1kk10agly0247

[jtstreiff]

The resemblance is uncanny. Make me your spokesperson, @diplomis! #norwaytour2018 #worldtraveler #touringmusician #icecreamyouscream https://www.instagram.com/p/BnquMBrgu_z/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1uovkd0yo3g3q

[jtstreiff]

Band house vibes 🇳🇴 #norwaytour2018 #worldtraveler #nickmossband #touringmusician https://www.instagram.com/p/BnqmNCoAokI/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=5z8zmhml9n8w

[jtstreiff]

Norwegian rainbow 🇳🇴🌈 #worldtraveler #norwaytour2018 #touringmusician (at Sandnes, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bnol95alyF-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1wfa4mlssvzvj

[jtstreiff]

We Tried Cynthia Nixon’s Controversial Bagel Order and Here’s the Professional Review

Lox, cream cheese, tomatoes, red onion, and capers, on a ....cinnamon raisin bagel?

Cinnamon raisin bagels are disgusting, and I agree with Christina, this is the only way I would eat one. 

[jtstreiff]

What to do when you’re feeling under the weather? Eat an entire bowl of pho, of course! And NEVER forget the fish sauce and chili paste! 🍲 🐖🐄🐟🌶 #foodislife #worldtraveler #touringmusician (at Sandnes, Norway) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnoGBNUALwV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bjhkrr8nuhgw

[memescomedy]

[jtstreiff]

There is an incredible amount of wisdom within this sentence. 

[anthonybourdain]

THE CHORUS

I spend a lot of my life — maybe even most of my life these days — in hotels. And it can be a grim and dispiriting feeling, waking up, at first unsure of where you are, what language they’re speaking outside. The room looks much the same as other rooms. TV. Coffee maker on the desk. Complimentary fruit basket rotting on the table. The familiar suitcase.

All too often, particularly in America, I’ll walk to the window and draw back the curtains, looking to remind myself where I might be-and it doesn’t help at all. The featureless, anonymous skyline that greets me is much the same as the previous city’s and the city before that.

This is not a problem in Chicago.

You wake up in Chicago, pull back the curtain and you KNOW where you are. You could be nowhere else. You are in a big, brash, muscular, broad shouldered motherfuckin’ city. A metropolis, completely non-neurotic, ever-moving, big hearted but cold blooded machine with millions of moving parts — a beast that will, if disrespected or not taken seriously, roll over you without remorse.

It is, also, as I like to point out frequently, one of America’s last great NO BULLSHIT zones. Pomposity, pretentiousness, putting on airs of any kind, douchery and lack of a sense of humor will not get you far in Chicago. It is a trait shared with Glasgow — another city I love with a similar working class ethos and history.

But those looking for a “Chicago Show” on this week’s PARTS UNKNOWN will likely be disappointed. There are no Italian beef scenes, no hot dogs, no Chicago blues, and there sure as shit ain’t no deep dish pizza. We’ve done all those things — on those other shows. And we might well do them again someday.

I like Chicago. So, any excuse to come back, for me, is a good one. It’s not a “fair” show, it’s not comprehensive, it’s not the “best” of the city, or what you need to know or any of those things. If you’re gonna cry that I “missed” an iconic feature of Chicago life — or that there are better Italian restaurants than Topo Gigio, then you missed the point and can move right on over to Travel Channel where somebody is pretending to like deep dish pizza right now.

This is a show that grew out of my interest and affection for the Ale House in Chicago’s Old Town, and its proprietor, Bruce Cameron Elliot. Ever since reading on the Twitter feed of the late great Roger Ebert that he read Bruce’s blog “ Geriatric Genius” every day, I have followed it faithfully. In fact, I went back years, tracking previous entries. It is in total, a breathtaking work, encompassing the daily lives (and deaths) and misadventures of the Ale House clientele — many of whom, I think it is fair to say, are heavy drinkers. Though cranky, occasionally pugilistic, opinionated, politically incorrect, sexually crude, and an awful speller, Bruce has, without judgement, chronicled the trajectories of a spellbinding array of characters. Whole lives pass, his characters rise and fall — and literally fall apart — as with one character, “Ruben 9 Toes”, who then went on to become “Ruben 8 Toes” then “4 Toes” before dying last year. Bruce’s closest associate, Street Jimmy is a crackhead who’s lived on the streets of Chicago ( no small feat) for over a decade — and his Greek chorus of bar regulars offer a perspective on Chicago that I thought deserved highlighting.

We visit with hip hop artist Lupe Fiasco and his extraordinary family, with chef Stephanie Izard, legendary producer Steve Albini and others — but the beating heart of this show is the Ale House and its resident artist (Bruce’s paintings of his customers, living and dead — as well as his portraits of politicians of both parties often depicted being penetrated inappropriately are world famous).

I urge you to visit his blog. And to go back and start a few years back.

There is something about the Ale House — its willingness to accept all who stagger in its doors (though there is, famously a NO SHOT list), it’s morbid sense of humor, it’s never ending flow of opinions, well formed and not, its willingness to scrap — that serves for me, as a happy metaphor for a city I love.

[jtstreiff]

I miss you dearly, chef. And so does the world. 

[jtstreiff]

The 2018 U.S. Open Women’s Championship Was A Disaster

I just watched a replay of the controversial US Open Women's Championship. If you don't want to watch the entire match, here's what happened.

In the first set, Serena clearly received a coaching gesture from the stands, not a "thumbs up" of encouragement as she claimed. So, the first penalty was rightfully assessed by the chair umpire. She did set the umpire straight by saying something to the effect of she'd rather lose than cheat. Right on! Unfortunately for her, at that moment, her coach was clearly coaching her from the box, which is illegal. She may not have asked for it, but he CLEARLY gave her signals, and was even caught on camera. That's cheating on his part, and it resulted in his player getting rightfully penalized.

Serena's second code violation was also rightfully assessed after Serena smashed her racket after an unforced error. You can't smash your equipment. (I've learned that the hard way as a former player.) Apparently, Serena wasn't aware of the second penalty which results in an automatic point forfeit. So when the next game started at 15-0 in Osaka's favor, she blew up again at the umpire, and again brought up that she should not have been penalized for coaching. Again, yes she should have, even though it was not entirely her fault. Serena then called the umpire a "thief", and this is where things get way out of hand.

The umpire assessed a THIRD violation resulting in a full game forfeit (not the full match, but still not insignificant considering tennis scoring), which was absolutely RIDICULOUS on his part.

Given Serena's personality and firey competitive nature, this could have gone MUCH worse. She was not out of line in any way. She never swore at him, or threatened him. She simply called him a "thief". How can an umpire think this should result in a penalty? He was WRONG. She was absolutely right to protest with the official tournament referee. She was also right in arguing that players on the men's tour have said things FAR much worse to chair umpires that never resulted in the violation she received.

The multiple issues regarding sexism in professional tennis have been boiling over in recent weeks, highlighted with Serena's "catsuit" being banned by the French Open, and then with a chair umpire unfairly assessing a penalty to a female player who changed her sweat drenched shirt in the middle of a game. And now, this internationally televised and streamed incident with Serena, which is clearly a sexist issue in my opinion, will undoubtedly bring that conversation to the forefront.

And that's not a bad thing.

But what IS bad is that over the next couple days, no one will be talking about Osaka, and the fact she's the first Japanese player, woman or man, to win a major tennis championship. I believe that Osaka would have won the match despite all of this. She was clearly the better player in the match right from the start. But all of Osaka's accomplishments are now overshadowed by this ridiculous farce that was pulled by the chair umpire. He was clearly out of line.

Did he steal the championship from Serena? Maybe. But we shouldn't have to be talking about this.

Instead of being happy for a young woman who is undoubtedly going to be an inspiration for many young girls and boys playing tennis in Japan, most of the world will be talking about this out of line chair umpire and his outdated sexist attitude.

Maybe, just maybe, the ATP will FINALLY do something about the sexism strewn throughout the sport. But celebrating the accomplishments of the next generation of international tennis stars should be the priority. Instead, we'll have only something negative to talk about for the next few days.

It sucks for tennis, and it sucks for sports.

[jtstreiff]

What Makes A Good Band?

I had such a shit day today, in terms of projecting negative energy and being stressed out for no good reason. To put it simply, I was being an ass, and stressing out my boss, and the band for no reason.

I’m traveling with the band in Norway, and have very much enjoyed my time here on this particular trip thus far. I’ve enjoyed the food, the people, and the incomparable beauty of the landscape.

So why be stressed?

Maybe it’s the travel, the inevitable adjustment to the time zone (7 hours ahead), or that I just miss my family, my friends, Chicago, and St. Louis. To put it very simply, I just can’t explain it. Today, my emotions just got the best of me. As a creative, this happens A LOT. You suddenly feel shitty for no logical explanation. As an artist or creative, your “highs” and ”lows” can be extremely varied and difficult to handle in the moment. But you have to do your job and be a professional.

So that’s what I did. I got on stage, trying desperately to separate my shit day from the task at hand. I played  my ass off for the first couple up tempo songs, yet still feeling a bit uncomfortable with my playing, and with my emotions. But I did my job. The crowd was into it. The rhythm section was tight, and Nick and Dennis are killing it.

Third song of the set, Nick calls off a slow blues, and asks Dennis to play some Sonny Boy style acoustic harp. Patrick and Michael lay the groove down perfectly, and I settled in, contempt with playing some big, two handed chords to back up Nick’s soulful singing and guitar playing...

“Woman, you must be crazy...”

And then, for one of the few times in my short career as a touring musician, I started to cry on stage. I tried my best to hold back my tears behind my cheap-ass, fake Ray Ban style sunglasses. The audience probably thought it was just me sweating profusely due to my animated stage presence. At least I hope they thought that...

But in all honesty, I was truly moved by the moment. Each of us in the band was playing to our absolute BEST ability to play to the SONG. And this is an incredibly emotional song! It’s about realizing it’s more important to let someone go, in the hopes that without you around, they will do better. 

Dennis took one of THE best acoustic harp solos I’ve literally ever heard live, and I lost it. I had to take my left hand off the piano and wipe my eyes multiple times. 

And then I finally realized it. After all these years.

On stage, none of the negative bullshit throughout the day matters. It’s all about the moment, and the music.

And that’s what made me cry. The fact that night after night we are willing to let go anyone’s negative energy, and to play to the music. 

To play to the song.

It’s as simple as that.

And THAT’s what makes a good band.

[jtstreiff]

"Don't worry about it..."

Last night (10/25/11) marked one of the worst moments in my short career as a musician. While performing in the recital tonight, I messed up a passage in the middle of my piece, proceeded to make up a bunch of bullshit, and then got pissed off at myself while on stage, in front of an audience. I even flat out told the audience that what I played was awful. So I tried again. And again...failed. Did I mention I was the last one in the program? Yup. In the now infamous words of Charlie Sheen, definitely "winning".

To anyone reading this, you know that this outburst was probably just typical behavior from me, and honestly not surprising. 

For the past few years at Columbia, I have done some great things. However, there are things I am bad at. I am bad at sight reading. I am bad at playing by ear. I am bad at performing on my instrument in a solo context. But aren't those things that a professional musician should do well? Plain and simple: Yes. So why after three years of "school" do I feel like I have worked extremely hard, learned a lot of amazing things about myself, have found a great group of friends, and then find myself in a position to essentially not be hired for any sort of music job because of my lack of basic music skills? 

Truth is, for the past couple of years I have been getting in my own way. I have been defeating myself before I even attempt something, And why? It's not because I like being like this. It's not because I like being "angry" or whatever. I think about all the ways this could potentially hurt me or help me. I think too fucking much. I let things eat at me. I beat myself up.

The worst part is that I feel I can not correct this behavior no matter what I try. 

  Here's a little insight into how things work in my head:

I have good days and bad days with the anxiety that I feel. There are seldom days where I am completely zen. When the anxiety is there, it cripples me. I can't function during the day. I worry so much that it's even sometimes hard for me to have conversation with people. I get frustrated easily because I can't do something that's easy, which then adds to the anxiety that I have already been feeling. So my defense mechanism is to do nothing, or just get pissed off. I don't work at what I'm bad at because of the frustration it causes me. I don't correct my mistakes. 

I dwell on my mistakes, and I don't learn from them. I take that one small little tiny mistake, even as something as miniscule as slipping a little bit on the sidewalk or missing a note while practicing a piece, and I blow that up into a million other things. I start worrying about things that aren't even really applicable at the time of the mistake and make it a bigger problem than it needs to be. It sounds so simple, right? Just move on after the mistake. That's how you learn. You make mistakes, you correct them, and make sure that it doesn't happen again.

But that doesn't happen with me, and hasn't for some time. 

As most of you know, I am extremely hard on myself. I refuse to believe that failure is an option. Mistakes are unacceptable. When I take the time to correct mistakes and in crunch time still can't follow through, it's extremely disappointing and demoralizing. I've taken a path where failure to do your job the first time perfectly is unacceptable. You miss one note, you're done. You miss one chord change, you're done. It's that simple. And when a group of my peers or professors point this out and proceed to tell me I'll never make it in music if I don't do this right, it's so demoralizing, because it's something I already know. So why is the basic execution of something I'm good at so, so hard?

  Because I put pressure on myself that doesn't exist. I allow mistakes to cripple me when they shouldn't at all. I beat myself up. I defeat myself before I even get started. Somewhere along the lines, I decided to dwell on my mistakes. Rather than accepting that I'm a human being and that mistakes will happen, I put myself at the highest standard, putting myself in a position to fail immediately, right out of the get go. 

  And you know what? I AM FUCKING TIRED OF IT.

  One of my best friends had a simple response to mistakes and pretty much everything in the world: don't worry about it. He would say it every day, at least four or five times a day. So as we became better friends, I found myself getting better and better at not worrying, getting better at learning, doing the right things. Those four words had a profound impact on me. I allowed them to have a positive impact on my life. He became one of my best friends not only because we got along well, but because I looked up to him. I looked up to his ideology, the way he calmly handled high pressure situations like they weren't even bothering him.

Then, for reasons still unexplained, my friend's life ended. Halfway through my sophomore year, I had to face the fact that one of my best friends, someone I looked up to, someone so close to my age, was gone, and I would never hear those four profound words come from him again. So the night we learned of his death, I was extremely conflicted. I couldn't cry. I couldn't really speak. I couldn't bring myself to actually believe he was dead. For a brief moment while we were collecting our thoughts in silence in the dim lit apartment of the UC, those four words came into my head. I told myself them everyday, for about a week and a half, trying to push forward and keep going.

But I then finally lost it. I finally broke down, and cried almost non-stop for what felt like days.

I proceeded to self medicate hard with alcohol and marijuana (and sometimes cocaine), trying to numb myself rather than facing the reality. I would go to school high and drunk as all hell. I would pretend I was in a happy place. I made the world around me not real, and liked it. I escaped from reality. To a degree, Jay never existed in the drug induced world I had created for myself. It was just me there. No one else in the world mattered. Just me and my polluted brain

But that only makes you happy for a while. After almost four weeks of a serious alcohol and drug binge, I felt lousy. I got clean again, but didn't realize the damage I had done to myself until now. In the months that have passed since Jay's death, I have somehow managed to bury those four words, and pretend like they didn't even exist. I have had major psychological and emotional problems. 

So what does this have to do with me beating myself up over little things and mistakes? 

Unfortunately, and I am really hoping those who loved Jay don't get upset with me for this statement, I led myself to believe that Jay or someone else he was with that day/night he disappeared made a mistake. It unfortunately led to his death. So while on my binge, I somehow came to the faulty realization that mistakes are unacceptable at any time, mainly because they can even lead to death. Somehow, I associated the word "mistake" with "death".

Because of this, I now have problems accepting the fact that failure or mistakes are acceptable, even at a miniscule level. I still am afraid to make mistakes, even accepting that they might happen. Instead of making the mistake, I choose to avoid it altogether by getting pissed off or by doing nothing at all about. I just take the easy way out. 

So truth is, I have come to the realization that even after a year and a half after Jay's passing, I am still not over it. I am still horribly scarred by the fact that he is gone. While I may have been okay at hiding it, it's clear to me now that something needs to change, and that his death really did have a profound affect on my life in college. I know that I have chosen the wrong path to deal with such problems, and it has greatly negatively effected my music, my life, my spirit, my faith in human nature and faith in God. 

But it's never too late change the way you live your life. It's never too late for anything. If you believe in yourself, you can undo whatever mistakes you have made.

A world without those four words is unacceptable. While I can never bring Jay back, I can bring a little piece of him back into my life everyday by remembering that simple saying, and I now know that's what I must do. I have to live a life of peace. Live a life of grace. Be stoic and tough when you're going through hell. No matter how horrible it is, once you get through it you will be a better person. Something good has to come out of this.

It's time for a change. It's time to step up and stop moping. It's time to stop dwelling on my mistakes. It's time to have fun, and love every god damn minute I am alive on this planet.

We're going to die someday. I can't really preach because I am so terrible at this, but don't waste your life moping about your mistakes. Don't waste it pointing out and dwelling on others' mistakes either, it won't help you. Don't be cynical. Don't be mad. It's not worth it. It's just too much effort. 

I had to learn it the hard way by getting upset with myself in front of an audience while I was trying to play a piece. But again, we all learn this somehow. 

Nothing in the world scares me more than death. But it's something that we all as human beings share. We're all going to die. So yes let it scare you. Don't let it cripple you, like I have led it cripple me thus far in my life. Let it motivate you. Just do it and realize that this is the only chance you've got. Make the best of it. 

Go through life, have fun, live for yourself, and don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Do what makes you happy. Be centered. Be positive. Be happy. Smile. Be nice to everyone you see. Lead by example. Do the right thing. When life is tough, just deal. It will all be okay in the end. 

......and......

don't worry about it.

- Taylor

[jtstreiff]

A little over a year ago, my group of friends and I lost one of our best friends, Jay Polhill, to mysterious circumstances. He was only 20 years old, and an extremely talented photographer honing his craft at Columbia College Chicago. My roommate Ryan Buell, a senior fiction writing major at CCC, recently penned this heartfelt essay about our late friend who was, indeed, a legend by our standards. Even if you didn't know Jay personally, please take the time to read Ryan's thoughtful tribute to him. If you would like to read more of Ryan's writing, please don't hesitate to contact me via Facebook! - Taylor

[jtstreiff]

"In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves."

Buddha

[thememegeneration]

[jtstreiff]

americandrink:

thememegeneration:

The Bruins partied at Foxwoods this weekend. Nice tip.

(This was on Boston.com with an accompanying story, but it’s since been pulled.)

(EDIT: The story is back.)

3 bottles of Captain Morgan: $300 each 35 Jager Bombs: $525 Partying like a world champ rockstar Lotto winning frat house: Priceless.