katythekyng

Yesterday I played a sold-out performance at Joe’s Pub, the birthplace of Hamilton and lots of other famous shows. The show, “Dan Fishback is Alive, Unwell, and Living in His Apartment,” is about isolation: the isolation of living in New York, of living in New York as a musician, living in New York as a musician with long covid, living with long covid in post-covid New York, living in America during its active participation in the Palestinian genocide, living in America under Trump. And being horny. It was a privilege and an honor to witness a show about such literally isolating subject matter find its laudatory audience. I feel fiercely proud of @dangerfishback and every single hyper talented member of the cast and crew. I also played a punk show yesterday night at Purgatory. My parents were 1/5 of the attendees at a show where I dubbed my genitalia “Little Italy.” Afterwards I had an omelette and whiskey and talked about vision and artistry with some besties. This experience was also a privilege and an honor and I’m proud of every musician and poet who shared a part of themself. I hope I’m never too cool to wear a nightgown and talk about my bowels in front of a single-digit crowd. I hope we never isolate ourselves from the unexpected catharsis that comes from the random live event. I hope we uplift and hold and listen to each other until we all sell out our dream venues. I’ll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours. Speaking of Timothée Chalamet @_irrevery_ and I dreamed up a lil hang at @tradesmanbk tonight. Let’s dress the turkey trim the tree shoot the shit capture the queen. All voices welcome. Bring a chess board. I’m gonna sing my new unbearably heartbreaking country song about a gambler and the song “867-5309/Jenny.” And maybe we’ll take a trip to Mulberry Street 😘🤌 Photo by my mom 📸

students circled my name so you know who’s in charge 💅

😃😃 Duo set tonight at Bar Freda 🖖 On a bill with good pals and playing some new tunes 😃😃 #good #new #irrevery

I’ve been teaching songwriting at a university this semester. It’s been a dream, my favorite job. I didn’t know what to do today. I felt I was supposed to be strong, or wise, or infallible, or grown-up, for the students, when I actually felt weak and numb and uncertain and childlike. I needn’t have worried. Six of us sat in class, some childlike on the floor, for two hours, first in silence, then sharing stories, tears, occasional laughter, and eventually, music. There was a permeability, the veil felt thin. Every song made me teary-eyed. The students showed such care, listening to and helping each other, sitting in proximity through discomfort. They talked about health care, their grandmothers, race and gender, world governments, women’s fashion, love, and the idea that community can be six people from different backgrounds meeting and talking about such things. So I witnessed a community forming. The music we played held great power, which seemed to come from collective vulnerability and a willingness to take emotional and social risks. I don’t know if that kind of power through art can become political power, but I think it can. I don’t know exactly what that will look like, and I know it will be tiring and difficult and not magical and very intentional and time-intensive, but I saw a bit of it today.

🦶Kicking off a month and a half of fun shows in NYC with two 🪩🕺glamtastic crooner 🎤🇬🇧Roxy Music sets for Halloween 🦶Tonight at Main Drag and tomorrow at Gutter 😃

Hello. Lately I’ve been writing a new album about hearth and home and mundanity and marriage and stuff. Not trying to do anything cool on the guitar, nor anything interesting lyrically. Lol. I wrote a song about how Joni Mitchell never wanted to get married, and how I’m afraid to, too. It’s kind of a raucous train-beat tune called “Joni’s Gram,” referencing both something her grandmother said about domesticity and her boyfriend Graham Nash’s name. “My Old Man,” this Joni song I’m playing, is down-tempo and plaintive, but it’s about the sturdy love of cohabitation. She says they “don’t need no piece of paper from the city hall,” but Graham really wanted one: they eventually broke up. This is the eddy my album swirls around: how do we keep each other, or our separate identities; or, ideally, both? Anyway, I’ll be playing a first draft of the record this Thursday 9/26 at @theowlbk, opening for @marjishemanski. I might play this tune too. #ibanez

springsteen sandwich 🍔🤘🍔

excited to see @springsteen tonight

If an audition calls for “a photo of you in motion” on the resume, do these count? Studies from “Katie in Sequin Suit with Dog Bowl (In Motion),” Christine Hucal, Brooklyn, 2024

Playing solo tonight at @mamatriedbk. No more shows on the books for the summer. Last chance to come buy Selfies of You vinyl, a Shithole t-shirt, or me a shot of tequila. This XL I’m wearing all day will be on sale for $100. See you cats at 8 🐈‍⬛

Okay since two of you are clamoring I’ll post one more encore Daily Dan®️: I dunno if some of you thought I WASN’T gonna post the single greatest Steely Dan guitar solo of all time; only reason I didn’t post it before was cuz I made an attempt on its life two years ago (when I first got into the Dan ?!), but I don’t think I killed it. So here it is: 1977’s “Peg,” played and annihilated by Jay Graydon after Becks, Carlton, and all the other top session guys deedled sad little doodles to no avail. The funniest video chronicling this exists on YouTube, where you can watch WB roast his own jingle-jangle. So here it is, in all its glory: proof that rock guitar is pinnacle guitar. Hint: the way to nail that fast penultimate run is to watch your RIGHT HAND, silly! You know I love you better— Katie

On the final Daily Dan of this series I thought I’d switch it up and do a rhythm guitar part— often a more difficult enterprise than waving our willy-nillies about on the lead part. I also thought I’d dedicate a Dan vid to Walter Becker’s ceaseless quiet work— I always related to him as a poseur of jazz, a not-to-be-bopper, a bad character actor. Alas the character on 1980’s dance hit “Hey Nineteen” is not Mr. B. but none other than Hugh McCracken, who has played on hits ranging from this song’s very own ‘Retha Franklin to B.B. King to that most notorious part at the beginning of the most-played middle school dance song of the 1960s thru 1990s (hint: the songwriter rhymes with Man Shore-is-Scum). Good slick work on this and everything else, Hughie— I haven’t seen such punchy lines this side of Hendrix. Even got me dancing a little. Slide on down— KB 🫡