A Small Gift

Good news - I was contacted to play at the Nice Jazz Festival in July, and couldn't be happier! Fantastic opportunity to present the funky quintet. Just wanted to say thank you - for support, for contacts and coincidences that make the difference. And for music, the eternal impetus.


Sometimes I feel like this guy (but in a good way). Will get there one way or another!

Happy spring -

Vicki

Ode to a Furry Thing

Hi there,

I just heard a friend's Italian greyhound passed away recently. Anyone who knows me knows I am a huge animal lover (dogs in particular), and I took care of little Biche a few times when her owner was away, so I wanted to thank her for the many times she cracked me up - and lifted me up. Wouldn't it be great if we could all live such simple, enthusiastic lives?

Here's to Biche!

What the peck?

The other day I got a call from François Elie Roulin, an accomplished composer with a wry sense of humor. I've often recorded jingles or film music in his studio filled with lava lamps and assorted alien and robot figures. After wishing me a happy new year, he said, "I'm working on a new project, and I need someone who can sing like a chicken, so I thought of you."

Something in my mind sort of did a double-take there: how much of my life has been spent learning to sing, playing piano, composing, booking concerts, traveling, promoting, and not doing things a lot of other people do - to find that this professional is most impressed by my (as yet untested) capacity to make poultry sounds?! Shouldn't there be more to it, after all this time? Or should I just take it as a compliment and chalk it up to things that a lot of other people can't say about themselves?

You know what? I'm gonna go with it! And if you hear a commercial with some unusual warbling anytime soon, please let me know what you think! :)

Next year is here!

Wishing you warmth, creativity and resilience in 2010.

I hope you all feel like THIS at this very moment!

Vicki

Here's the pitch!

Someone recently described the musical direction of my new album as "Erykah Badu and Bobby McFerrin channeling Mel Tormé, somewhere between Paris and Rio." Gotta love that!

Comments? Questions? Would love to know!

All the best,

Vicki

Now's the Time

Yes, a Parker blues I've been singing a lot lately, but also the feeling I have these days. It's all coming together: the new web site (victoriarummler.com), the new tunes (11!), the new quintet (guitar, keyboard, bass, drums and vocals), and various contacts with people in the business. It's a strange feeling of being on the brink of something big but needing that extra push to get there. Here's the deal: I want to connect with a label that has extensive international visibility, a booking agent, sponsor, and any possible venue for my music (performances, promotion, use in films/advertising). It's cool stuff; I want to share it!

Just felt like I had to put the word out there today. Feel free to respond, encourage and suggest!

Wishing you good things -

Vicki

Mattress Moments

Ah, summer in the south of Italy - the beach, the lilting language, the freshly prepared food, the...mattresses?! That's right. Imagine my surprise during a recent stint in that lovely boot-shaped country, when I was awakened by a garbled, poorly amplified voice bearing down on my dwelling. "Mattresses," the voice said, "one space, one and a half, even two spaces. Mattresses." The voice grew louder, then faded away. I rushed to the window just in time to see a large truck loaded with just that - mattresses - rounding the corner, its driver clutching the steering wheel in one hand and a megaphone in the other. Was I imagining things? True, life was stressful lately, but...

A few hours later another truck drove by, with a voice equally loud and equally deadpan: "Mattresses." So there was competition?! The drivers clearly didn't care if they sold any or not, but apparently they did; as the week went on, I got used to the occasional drone of the megaphones and started seeing mattresses - sprawled out on street corners, propped up against doorframes, peeking coquettishly out of giant trash bins - in short, everywhere I turned. Was it true, or was it me?

And wait 'til you hear about the scissor-sharpener!