May 30, 2007
DA BIZ DAT IZ
I thought long and hard...and even wrote a few drafts of things...based on the experiences of the weekend...but I suppose I've lived long enough to finally know when the upside of opening my mouth is obliterated by inevitable misinterpretations the second I lay pen to paper...and there is no need for me to make any clarifications to myself--I know the difference between what was right (and there was quite a bit of that) and what was wrong--so wrong it was toxic.
yes, it's personal. so instead I decided to upload some new music ... under the "megawaste" section....da biz dat iz...I made it a few months back, mainly I just wanted to lay down a backing track at a fast tempo and jam over it....I did so. and then I added way too much junk until it was a dense unmusical mess...then a while later I remixed it, deleting some of the more "creative" tracks and uncovered something I hadn't realized was there...so now it's essentially a volley of self-indulgent fancypants guitar playing...at a fast tempo...so I kinda dig it...it's a little bit different from the usual ... remember "jungle?" me neither, barely ... I just remember seeing the posies this one time at coney island high on st. mark's place and right after they struck the stage, the dance party started up and these kids popped up out of nowhere and started dancing like crazy to these fast tempos...I found it exhilirating, and strange....da biz dat iz...
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May 29, 2007
May 28, 2007
BRING THEM HOME
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
--Wilfred Owen
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May 26, 2007
HE'S A MESS SOMEBODY DRIVE HIM HOME
...where have I heard that delivery before?...
Someone, anyone, please explain to me why I shouldn't conclude that House Minority Leader John Boehner is anything but a well-meaning drunk?
Who among us hasn't heard this tone of voice? this quavering delivery with the faltering, stammering expectoration of a sentiment with such seeming profundity, yet no one listening can manage much more than an embarrassed silence. he's the drunk in the bar who you want to get away from when he starts showing you pictures of his kids who live with his ex-wife in a state he can't afford to visit...he's the drunk family member who starts slurring at the dinner table about how much he loves everybody...
in this instance, Mr. Boehner appears to be getting weepy about the pledge that congressmen take when they're sworn into office. I mean, he's been in office for years now...is the significance of his oath just dawning on him now? or did he have an extra finger of chivas at the steakhouse with his lobbyist friend before ascending the dais?
we're at war. I'm not in favor of this war, but regardless, when we are at war with brutal and murderous religious fanatics who place great stock in symbolic acts, I don't know, maybe our elected leaders SHOULDN'T FUCKING CRY IN PUBLIC...
even the three-scotches-at-lunch ones...
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May 25, 2007
I FEEL LIKE GOING HOME
Summer Fridays!!! Woo Hoo!!!
1/2 day today...and every friday until labor day...my employer has seen the light...
and it is good.
I might post intermittently...say, if my prediction comes true that today is the day of the 4:59pm announcement of Gonzo's resignation....but most likely I'll let the fibre go dark for a while...the weather is blaring sun, and I'm into a few good things on the guitar lately...sounds like a plan for sundeck residency....
also, this sunday is the christening of the newest member of our family, little Lizzie, and while I don't dig on the church thing anymore, even if one makes a copious study of one's manicure while the priest is making the splashy-splashy-cry-cry, it's a nice little ritual for welcoming a new member into the family...and it's followed by the first pool party/bbq of the year, so what'll it be? cigars & wiffle ball? I'm in...
Welcome Lizzie! Long may you reign...
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May 24, 2007
DON'T BUY IT
"Big business it don't like you
It don't like the things you do
You got no money
So you got no power
They think you're useless
An' so you are - punk!"
--'Remote Control' by Joe Strummer (pictured)
Funny coincidence: just yesterday I was thinking how I'd like to go purchase a new pair of doc martens for the summer...you know, something fun and shit-kickin' to hit the hot summer streets with...then I found out about this...
Now I'm thinking that I'll get by just fine with a new pair of tennis shoes and maybe the odd pair of chuck taylors...I don't mind them humiliating sid vicious, but to think that they can take their corporate money and besmirch the images of three of my musical idols (who gave permission?) just sickens me to my core...
Dear Saatchi & Saatchi of London: Go Fuck Yourself.
Dear Doc Marten: Nice knowin' ya...
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somebody told me that today is bob dylan's birthday. duly noted...
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...Liberty University, Class of 2028...
CONGRATULATIONS to the Cheney family! Apparently there is a new wielder of the infamous Cheney penis...and Grandma Lynn is here to teach him how to use it!...you can see from his face that Grandpa Dick "thinks the world" of his new grandson...I tell ya, it's moments like these that make all the killing and torturing and raping and stealing and lying and treachery worth the trouble! I hear they even ordered some novelty "constitution" diapers to wipe the little tyke's poopy ass with...so sweet...
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May 23, 2007
GAINFULLY EMPLOYED
...I'm dancing as fast as I can...
In my biz, twice a year we do this: get the data that informs us how many readers all the magazines have, and then coax and cajole a story from the tiny little numbers. We are paid to accomplish this all in a few hours...or a day...or a couple of days...or, in the case of a former employer who was truly clueless, several weeks...
and today's the day. yeah I'm almost done. I look forward to the intoxicating feeling of accomplishment I'll feel after providing my dazzling analysis to the folks in the home office...
people who love their jobs piss me off.
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May 22, 2007
SPACE IS THE PLACE
Today would have been Sun Ra's 93rd birthday. Over the years, I've had the good fortune to hear the Arkestra at numerous Central Park Summerstage shows, and it's always been fun...even after its leader left this sentient plane...whether they were opening for Sonic Youth, or sharing the bill with the reconstituted MC5, or just headlining on their own...
Sun Ra was born in Birmingham Alabama in 1914. His given name was Herman Poole Blount. If American show business has afforded anyone the opportunity to reinvent one's persona and create a character our of whole cloth, this is perhaps one of greatest constructs perpetrated, at least in jazz circles.
He claimed that he was born on Saturn, and inserted as many "space" themed aspects as possible--an early user of synths in the context of what could only be described as a big band, the thing that I always took away from hearing the arkestra is confirmation of the sometimes-derided notion that any note can work--anytime, given the right spirit--that a grandiose squall of horn and drum can make perfect sense if it is blaired with the simplistic primal grunt of creation, as it were to a tribe gathered, and let the odd notes fall where they may, increasingly to receptive ears, soaked with sweat on a hot summer's day in central park. the arkestra fashion sense ran to gold lame and sequins on trad african-style cut garments--ala p-funk, but trippier... and despite the interstellar claims, the birmingham aspect was always in evidence--this was cosmic music that had its roots in the southern church. and if you were there, the sheer joy and ecstacy promulgated by several dozen of gideon's trumpets, was the most thrilling church you ever stumbled into.
I'll keep a little bit of the Sun Ra spirit with me, as I continue to explore the great american songbook of jazz standards. the 20th century already happened--the great masters have already left their now-too-familiar stamp on the old well-worn classics. but I once saw wayne kramer wield a glorious stratocaster amidst the squall of the arkestra...and it was unequivocally righteous... no points for polite notes or subtle delicacies--this was the miasma of sound made spirit, full and unapologetically psychedelic, as it was meant to be. the old cats can have their polite renditions. as always, it's time for something new...
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...tinky honors jerry's memory by making a new friend...
So today is Jerry Falwell's funeral. But what's this? Nobody came? I mean sure--thousands, they say, went to pay respects. But not a single republican presidential candidate, and only a low-level white house staffer involved with relationship management with the evangelical lemmings...I guess it is true that the republicans take these born-again's for granted! and why not--these folks will buy anything you sell them, as long as it's wrapped in jesus paper, as long as the soda cup has a little starbucks bible quote to go with the big mac...kinda like how the dems treat the black folks, right? I mean, when coretta scott king died, it was so revealing how the....oh wait. never mind.
but that's not my main point. my main point is this--jerry kicked the bucket a WEEK AGO. let's not get all james brown about this--let's dispose of the carcass already! jesus! so gross...
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fun fact: the congress has the power to impeach the attorney general...I did not know that!
now I'm not donning the robes of karnac the magnificent just yet, but I did hear president bush last night saying something about this honorable man and how he's being subjected to political stunts, or some such blather...sound familiar? so according to my prognostication of yesterday, that means we're just three days away from the end of the gonzo-not-knowing-shit-about-anything era...
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May 21, 2007
YET ANOTHER POLITICALLY SAVVY PREDICTION
...I love you...I love you too...
I know. It's amazing. Despite having a grand total of zero white house sources at my disposal, I am laying even money that Alberto Gonzalez will announce his resignation at about 4:59 this coming friday -- right before the memorial day weekend, when nobody is paying attention.
this bad news/good news timing has now been employed so many times by these duplicitous hacks that it feels almost pre-destined. Weeks and months have passed with rumors of Gonzo's stepping down, but he seems ready and willing to stick it out no matter what. But a vote of no confidence might be more than he's willing to put up with...and if little George can find an experienced, older type (like Richard Thornburgh) to take over for the remaining two years, they'll let the little troll slip out the back door...
that is, unless they want to spin it (I can hear it now: how outrageous that a true patriot (act) is being run out of town because of partisanship!)...then it will come quicker...or, perhaps they've sunk so low that they're willing to leave him there twisting in the wind indefinitely...he's been twisting so long maybe it doesn't bother him anymore...
hey, as long as mom's still proud...
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May 20, 2007
GOLDEN PERFORMANCES AT SENSIBLE VOLUME LEVELS
we had a rough arrangement of herbie hancock's 'canteloupe island' into horace silver's 'song for my father' that was fun to jam on...I just replaced the older one with a newer take from last week....I'm happy about the sounds, thought I got an actual kick sound on this one...and I hadn't realized it at the time, but the amp sound is a bit overdriven...not a trad jazz thing but I think it's cool--that old les paul has a great vibe... ...download it and turn it up...
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May 19, 2007
LET'S HEAR FROM THE ABRAMOFF FACTION
...ROFLMAO!!!...
it's saturday...nothing I like better than to start my day by watching the forces of ignorance and hucksterism skewered neatly and completely by simple and unyielding erudition--in this case sean hannity and ralph reed get their come-uppance with both barrels from christopher hitchens, who inconveniently wags his finger at the nexus between god/money and the dissemination of hatred and ignorance by one whom the other two would praise unconditionally...on with the squirming!
enjoy...
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May 17, 2007
MY CRITICAL FACULTIES WILL AMAZE YOU
...summertime and the living is easy...
New music up...the culmination of a classic wayne shorter tune...I wanted to try using an overdriven marshall-type sound, to get some hair on the tone and also get that long sustaining thing that wayne gets with oxygen in a horn...it seemed to make sense to do the les paul neck pickup thing...about halfway through it switches back to a clean blackface tone...and again, having fun with subverting the trad roles of upright bass fiddle (cranked) and sitting the drums sides and middle, with plenty of room sound, and simple eq/limiting...I'm happy with the sounds, given how low the ceiling is down there...check it out...under new trio recordings....(I also switched the version of sidewinder back to what seemed to be the consensus most happening take)...
working from home tomorrow...best way to start the weekend...and with a brand new gas grill to boot...
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ON BLOWING
...I was so much older then I'm younger than that now...
I am totally digging this interview... [hat tip ethan iverson for hipping me to it] the improviser's art is one of the most difficult things to pin down, and certainly one of the most crucial to the music...Mr. Lee Konitz has some thoughts on the matter...
money quote:
'
You said ... that "first and foremost you have to adhere to the song for a much, much longer period of time. You have to find out the meaning of embellishment before going on to try to create new melodies..."
Getting a good melody to swing loosely with a beautiful sound is no easy thing to do. Then, you slowly add and subtract to keep it loose and beautiful. It's a very gradual process. I tried to break it down into small steps, so that people could measure their progress. The novice should be trying, in some way, to create original melodies; but they have to ease into this discipline, of playing a theme and variations in the traditional way, and play on a level in which they can get all the moving parts into sync. It's hard as hell to do that in reality. I'm trying to find out how you can work at that at home, to build up the belief that it really is possible to improvise. Tristano suggested knowing the song as thoroughly as possible, but he never went into those details, that I can recall. He encouraged his students to play in all keys, and so on, but never talked about this step-by-step development.
'
the man is about eighty gazillion years old and he's still working hard at it...and that to me is the real secret--all the theoretic mumbo-jumbo, all the talking and debating...it all comes down to one thing: work.
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if you're still on the fence about the traitor who is currently running our department of justice, just watch this...
I wish Mr. Comey had the job. He seems to be an honorable and decent man...
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today is bill bruford's birthday. yesterday was robert fripp's. the day before that, earl slick. I have been remiss. many happy returns all around, esteemed rock stars...
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this is FUN. click here to get to Hilary's website, and help them choose a campaign song via the BLANK FILL-IN BOX...
and feel free to duplicate some of my already-submitted choices!
The Bitch is Back -Elton John
Can't Buy Me Love -The Beatles
Chelsea Morning -Joni Mitchell
Give Peace a Chance -John Lennon
Billy Don't Be A Hero -Paper Lace
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright -Bob Dylan
Help Save the Youth of America -Billy Bragg
gosh, you can go satirical or serious, or just plain goofy! and Hilary's such an impish scamp, given to spontaneous flights of impulse and whimsy, who knows she may just pick yours!
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May 16, 2007
MAINSTREAM YO
...brush up your shakespeare...
yesterday, andrew sullivan at the atlantic linked to my monday piece on the wedding between alice and amy....WOW.
many thanks to mr. sullivan for that. hello to new visitors...I read his blog too...usually my lunchtime read...I share neither his religion nor his politics, but I hold his sense of fairness in high esteem, and of course we're in agreement on the marriage issue...
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MP3 update: I might shuffle in one or two more alternative takes that have already been recorded, but for now, the jazz trio project is kaput, with changes planned...this week we decided to continue on without a drummer...[there was too much talking]...thuddy and I will continue on as a duo, as we try to recruit a keyboardist to join us on our journey through the great american songbook...watch this space for further developments...
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another: blue jersey
excerpted even.....howdy blogosphere!
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another exquisitely romantic story...
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May 15, 2007
SANCTIMONY VS THE CHEESEBURGER
...nothing says 'humble servant of God' quite like a full-size portrait of yourself -- in your own office...
they've been saying that Jerry is "gravelly ill"....now maybe spelling doesn't count down in Virginny like it does up here, but I'm wondering if possibly he slipped on something in the driveway (a tricycle? a scroll of proverbs? a leather self-flagellation device?) and got bonked in the noggin by God's grey earth?
just kidding. I get it: heart attack. oh no! jeebus must be pissed off...here's the guy who said that the victims of 9/11 brought it upon themselves by giving in to the homosexual agenda and, you know, having sex themselves...which is interesting, because I knew a few guys who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald, and if they had any kind of corporate theme, it was irish blue collar guy makes good--they were most definitely NOT marching in any pride parades...but I digress...we are here to wish Mr. Falwell a speedy recovery--if that is indeed what he desires...anyone who's been spouting off about God and Heaven and Retribution all these years, you'd think would love nothing better for himself than a one-way ticket to heaven hallelujah amen...
but just like mother teresa and other would-be holy heaven seekers before him, I'll bet he's insisting on the very best medical attention that his telemarketing operations can pay for...
I hope that he recovers. Truly. Just imagine a huckster like Falwell getting to re-engage the bullshit wheel with eyewitness accounts of his glimpse of the almighty! and just in time for the 2008 Republican swill-in! Imagine Huckabee, or better yet McCain, having to stand by with the uncomfortable grimace, listening and nodding as he describes the exact shape and density of God's Mighty Beard....
Saints preserve us.
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UPDATE: apparently, the cheeseburger won. or was it just desserts?
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May 14, 2007
I AM MY BELOVED'S AND MY BELOVED IS MINE
On Saturday night I witnessed the wedding of Alice and Amy. They are friends of ours by way of daycare--their son Ben is a classmate of our daughter Caroline. They are lovely, charismatic, smart, talented, concerned, engaged, full-on people...the sort of people I want to be friends with, and whom have demonstrably accumulated a vibrant circle of friends and family in our community, also present at the ceremony.
and they got married. and it was beautiful. you might say sure, aren't all weddings beautiful...well I tend to believe that most weddings are decidedly not beautiful, more often they are rather gaudy and ill-fitting, in keeping with the couple's families' inclination to create a public face for their social circle and demonstrate their affluence, instead of their love...does anyone actually know what a viennese table is--until they get married? do they actually have these in austria? and if so, why isn't that entire country populated by obese diabetics?
but I digress...this event had nothing of that...it was a home affair, with the ceremony in the living room, the small jazz combo squeezed around a bay window, and guests roaming between the backyard (until the rain started), an outdoor canopy and the house...several of us watched the ceremony from the stairwell...and the whole affair was nothing if not elegant...
it was intimate. it was quiet. it was fierce. two people so dedicated to their love, to their life together, that they refuse to wait for the government to catch up with them...and in so doing, they let all of us into a place with them that was warm, non-judgmental, all-welcoming and loudly beaming with bright eyes and innocent laughter...perhaps the only wedding I've yet seen without a hint of spectacle...to which I raise (and empty) my imaginary upheld glass...
incidentally, this was also my first jewish wedding, and I was struck that it's yet another example of a ritual whose jewish version ("I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine") feels vastly superior--more poetic, more humanistic--to the christian/catholic one I was raised with ("do not touch each other under any circumstances, unless you really really want that ninth child")...
the take-away: despite the fact that "gay" marriages aren't recognized as such in New Jersey, Amy & Alice got married anyway. And they signed their civil union papers too. I saw two people who really really wanted this-who love each other, are committed to each other, and ready to declare it within the bounds of the law--as civil partners--and beyond it, as a rabbi declared them joined. several of those gathered were moved to tearful speeches afterwards, but I didn't need the speeches to be moved to tears. I was moved by their actions--not to wait until the world suits them, but to proceed according to their conscience and according to the home they want to build for themselves and their young boy. I think they envision a world for Ben that doesn't have the sorts of prejudice and ignorance and narrow worldview that is the background noise passing for national discourse these days. I think they envision a country where one can follow one's bliss without the need for societal approval, only the legislated principle that their experience is equally valid to any other citizen's and is recognized...we can all help promote this reality by recognizing them ourselves...
They did it. And I'm proud to know them. And I'm honored that I was there. I admire and love them for it. And I hope that weddings like this become a bigger fad than frisbees...
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rudy don't misunderestimate those ferrets!
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May 12, 2007
CONTENT ADVISORY
new solo improv in the solo improvisations section...this time on the gibson flattop, running into a super clean warble channel on the cyber deluxe...two sampler/loopers, plus a live guitar, creates a multitrack impression but it's a live performance all the way through...the gibson acoustic/piezo sounds better through this amp than it does through the acoustasonic...
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May 11, 2007
TELL IT TO THE DANE
...You are so goddamn smart. Except you ain't....
Eddie the Dane is one of my all-time favorite movie villains, from one of my all-time favorite movies, Miller's Crossing...and since the career of actor J.E. Freeman hasn't exactly turned into a marquee leading man blockbuster sort of affair, I am free to embrace his character portrayal as an actual person. And even though he was bashed in the head with a shovel right before Johnny Caspar put one in his brain...ALWAYS put one in the brain...I think I'll keep him around for those times when Paul Williams isn't available for consultation and advice. And besides, I think it would be a nice balance to the all-loving, all-beneficent guy to have a stone cold killer who wears hat and gloves indoors at all times, just waiting for the opportunity to kill somebody...
Eddie Dane: Up is down, black is white.
But what would we need to ask the Dane about anyway? He's from another time, a simpler time. A time of rackets, of running booze, of Al Capone and Chicago strongarms...
So then, what should we ask the Dane? And if we ask him, how will we know he won't kill us too?
Eddie Dane: Because if you told me and I killed you and you were lying I wouldn't get to kill you *then*.
It is a sobering prospect, indeed. Risky, a little bit dangerous maybe. I wonder what Eddie the Dane would think of this whole blogging thing?
Eddie Dane: You're so goddamn smart. Except you ain't. I get you, smart guy, I know what you are. Straight as a corkscrew, Mr. Inside-Outsky. Like a goddamn bolshevik, picking up your orders from Yegg Central. You think you're so goddamn smart. You joined up with Caspar. You bumped Bernie Bernbaum. Up is down. Black is white. Well, I think you're half-smart. I think you were straight with your frail and queer with Johnny Caspar. And I think you'd sooner join a Ladies League than gun a guy down.
The Dane. He'll be back. Maybe...
Eddie the Dane: Jesus. I open my mouth, the whole world turns smart. . .
Happy Mother's Day!!!
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May 10, 2007
I DON'T WANT A BABY THAT LOOKS LIKE THAT
...they tried to make me go to rehab I said no no no...
Happy 50th Birthday Sid!
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May 09, 2007
RUDY'S CONCERN FOR HIS FELLOW MAN TOUCHES US ALL
...hate the sin; love the sinner...
Let's see....his first ex-wife was (is?) his cousin--and after years of (I assume) fully consummated marital congress, he got an annulment on a technicality (because no one--not the church nor these two LAWYERS were aware that there were RULES involving INCEST which required a "dispensation"); his second wife was humiliated by him while he was still in office, as he attempted to move her out and move his mistress in...his children hate him and won't speak to him (just like most of new york city)...he's been floating on the fumes of this 'broken windows' myth for years now, playing on people's fears as he successfully forged some sort of mythical link between squeegee men (suburban white people in the bridges/tunnels know them as the scary black men who approach their locked cars with a bucket and a rag) and violent criminals...he's made a habit of going after the weak and the poor (he was very fond of bulldozing community gardens and prosecuting squatters back in the day)....but enough about that--what we want to know is where he stands on the issue of FERRETS!!! click the link above for a good laugh...
Hey Sports Fans! Wanna hurl? Check out this story of how Rudy made off with four world series rings, something no other mayor in America has accomplished...he paid $16,000 for them (half price!) and now they're worth about $200,000...pretty sweet deal there George....I'm sure this had nothing to do with those bogus stadium deals you and he were pushing for at the time...
I tell ya if this keeps up I'm going back to buying tickets to that shithole Shea Stadium, sitting with those knuckle-scraping Mets fans and reacquainting myself with the National League...
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allow me get in a little plug for my pal EVR's new venture into blogworld! He's the featured link (see righthand column) under destinations of renown...he knows his pop music...check back often...
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thought for the day: next time you hear somebody talk about "supporting the troops," please remember this fact: the troops are torturing people and abusing non-participant Iraqi civilians on a routine basis...
yes. let us all support them. let's bring them home before every last one of them is turned into a monster...
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May 08, 2007
IT'S LIKE ANDY ROONEY ONLY NOT AS SEXY
| Which God or Goddess are you like? Your Result: You are your own God or Goddess Sorry to say, i have no answer that fits you. You are your very own person, and you like to do things your own way. You have stumped me this time, but i will soon make a quiz that will have your answer, just you wait... | |
| Goddess Sekhemet | |
| Budha | |
| The Christian God | |
| God Zeus | |
| Satan | |
| Jesus | |
| Goddess Bast | |
| Which God or Goddess are you like? Make Your Own Quiz | |
I am not God. (a load off my mind, as you can well imagine)...
yet more observationizing:
Fame. I want to live forever. Actually, make that about 15 minutes or less…I simply do not know the famous people’s names anymore. I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy. Never have, never will. Ditto Lost. Nor anything involving desperate housewives (unless it's porn). It would seem that all famous people now are on these shows. So, all those faces on the magazine covers, they’re just good-looking strangers to me. The new couple in Grease! (on Broadway) are being advertised on billboards by name, and I don’t have the slightest idea who they are—zero name recognition. This is a good thing, by the by. Take a step away and see it for what it is—a thin substitution for the rich inner life.
The Queen. I don’t get it. She isn’t our queen. We, as a country, are officially opposed to monarchies. Two wars were fought to ensure our freedom from this very same monarchy. In one of these wars, the British burned down the White House. Now this old crone, obscenely wealthy for no reason whatsoever (unless you believe in “royal blood”) comes over and everybody bows and scrapes. Not me. Her people killed my people, mercilessly, for centuries (my people include both Ireland and the US). Now she comes over and expects homage? She’s lucky those of us with longer memories don’t throw rocks at her limo. Shame on any American who kowtows to her or any other royal…
Tony Snow. Dying of cancer, or trying out for Hallmark movie of the week? Which is it? Is he dying now, or was that whole thing blown out of proportion, like the legend of WMD’s and getting greeted as liberators? I’m just saying—if you told me I had six months to live, I ain’t going back to my desk job, not in the White House...nor anywhere else…
Thelonius Monk. The more I explore his music, the more I realize what an absolute genius he was--I mean, as much credit and appreciation as he has deservedly received, I think he's a bit underrated. Cecil Taylor once compared his technique to Vladimir Horowitz. I’m more blown away by his compositions, but who else, in the history of jazz, had such a strong talent for writing, and such an identifiable style on their instrument? Some come close, but the two camps of virtuosity seem to be those known for their playing and those who are known for their writing. The classic examples would be Louis Armstrong as the former, and Duke Ellington as the latter. Monk fits into both camps. The sessions he did with Coltrane, when JC isn't hitting it correctly, you can hear Monk ask "can't you feel that? or are you just being obstinate?" Imagine, having the stones to call out the greatest saxophone virtuoso of the 20th century for not playing in time! He was 100% original…
Roger Clemens. Too much has been made of this already. The man is 44 years old. (Clearly, Randy Johnson was simply too young for this team.) He's ten years older than his protege Andy Pettitte, and even he is thinking of retirement! This year, it looks like the Yankees once again have an estimable platoon of bats, some decent gloves, but no scary arms in the outfield and an average group of starting pitchers, even with the addition of Clemens. Also, the bullpen is exhausted, and we haven't even passed Memorial Day... To me, it's the most interesting team in several years, since Boston--on paper and in practice--has what should be an unqualified superiority at all levels of the game. Still, I wonder when their inevitable mid-season collapse will arrive. The Yankees would seem to be getting all their 2007 injuries out of the way in the first two months, while their northerly rivals are pretty healthy. Will this remain the case? Can Mike Mussina be lights out again? Will Matsusaka be as good as predicted, or only above average, as he's proved to be thus far (the jose contreras-style disappointment has yet to materialize)?? We will soon see, but please, let's be clear that none of these things will be impacted much by Senor Rocket. Except maybe one thing--he does seem to bring out the best in Andy Pettitte. If he can win 10+ games and keep Andy on his workout schedule, that's OK by me. At this stage of the season, I'm more absorbed in the linear narrative anyway--the game summaries in the newspapers are often enough to glean the basic plotline of the season, and I can rejoin the daily dose of nine-innings later on in the season, when the games count more. But for all intensive purposes, after years alternating from dominance, to close wins, then heartbreaking losses, and finally an avowed difficulty to make it past the first round, I'm feeling more of a detachment and (perhaps?) objectivity with the whole shebang. Professional sports, a times a genuine salve to real world circumstances (yankee baseball will probably never again be quite as poignant and powerful an experience as it was at the end of the 2001 season), and fun as entertainment, is of a piece with so many other things this culture overdoses on: juvenilia. When the passions of the little-leaguer overtake the passions of the little-leaguer's parents, it's time for Dad to get a hobby. They're not mutually exclusive, and it's good for grownups to do grownup things once in a while, lest the pursuit of "wins" starts taking on the ugly aspect of a strangely-attired organized religion--because in many places the youth league experience is presented as some sort of fantasy prelude to professional employment as an athlete--high schoolers on steroids, etc. This is troubling, because children don't launch from the womb fully aware of ESPN. And the longer I live in suburbland, the more I see of this nonsense. Let's let the kids be kids--creatures who receive greater benefit from losing games than from winning them--and let's us grownups just toy with the notion that, to an adult perspective, the fortunes of a steroid-abusing texas millionaire don't amount to a good goddamn... win or lose ...
So sure, I'd love to crush and embarrass Red Sox Nation on the way to another championship. But it's become clear to me that RSN cares way way more about this crap than I do, to the extent that they'll probably boo Clemens when he pitches in Fenway. Juvenilia.
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May 07, 2007
I'M NOT HERE TO HARSH YOUR MELLOW
Observations from this week, last week, the weekend, five minutes ago etc.…
Stand-up guy: I’ve been practicing this way, and playing in bands so long now, that when I try to play electric guitar sitting down, it’s a lot more difficult…the other day I tried to sit down and perform the rubato intro part to ‘someday my prince will come’ and I simply couldn’t do it right—I didn’t have the neck in the right position and my timing was off…I guess I do other things physically besides tapping my foot…
Telecommuting: While I know in my soul that I can’t have it both ways—that as soon as my particular department was allowed to ‘work from home’ that the company would instantaneously farm our jobs out to India—I’ve got to say, loud and clear, that after doing it once, working in one’s own home is hard to beat…
Digital amps are here to stay—I’m currently playing a model that was current in 2002…between that, the POD, and things like “guitar rig 2” software, I think it’s fair to say that the sky’s the limit for this technology…and that’s coming from me, a diehard tube guy…
Fretboard Journal. Finally, a coffee table-quality guitar magazine…it’s Saveur for guitarists! At $10/issue, and lots of lengthy articles on a diverse well of subjects, it ain’t for the page flipper, but if you like to settle in with a strong cup of joe and, you know, read, it’s pretty hard to top…
Jazz traditions. I started out in this genre with a healthy amount of respect for its conventions, traditions, etc., but as each day passes (and as each band practice delves deeper into the music) I’m convinced that the old guys had it right—upset the apple cart as often, and as prejudicially as possible. For now, I’m sticking with my solidbody fenders. Humbuckers have their place, but for my particular style, they gloss the details a bit too much. If you like to hear every note in a chord, it’s always going to be a compromise when you touch the volume pot on the guitar…single coils, as bright and noisy as they are, simply provide better nuance…and in a sport where most lead soloists (including singers) are trying to sound like a saxophone, nuance is everything. I don’t know who decided that a neck humbucker on an archtop is the only acceptable jazz guitar tone (I think it has something to do with Wes Montgomery), but I’m not especially interested (although I am perfectly willing to sample L5’s and so forth until I’m convinced). Time to break the paradigm…
Arguments. Whether they’re with bandmates or close friends, they suck. And unfortunately, in the former situation, you’re often forced to work it out face to face, since you’re both already in the same room, while with the latter, you’re sometimes forced to work things out over email and the telephone, when a face-to-face discussion would’ve worked it all out really quickly, since you know each other so well. I’ve had my share of both this month, and I’m ready to pass the baton on to someone else. Also, it's tricky with adult men. Sometimes we just need to bonk each other in the chops, and we're not allowed to...
Coffee. I never realized what a flag-raiser this is…try this: go to your local 1001-beers-from-around-the-world pub, and order a cup of coffee. Oh lord, the bartender will give you that look of recognition faster than you can say Yuengling! She knows! Who knows, maybe she’s in the program too... either way, they’ll probably not even charge you…also, I’ve found that if they serve good beer, their coffee’s usually excellent…fringe benefits—better music, less crowded, nicer furniture/interior than your usual starbucks cattle trail…if you’re a non-drinker who can stare at 1001 beers without getting tempted, like me, this is a nice deal...I’d forgotten how nice it is to sit in a quiet little pub and, you know, read…
The Fuzz Face. Done properly, it’s the greatest guitar effect of all time (I keep see-sawing between this and the wah pedal, but I’m leaning toward the fuzz since it’s more versatile)…An upcoming post will cover the wonders of my latest acquisition—my brother-in-law outdid himself this time. If he doesn’t go into business with this stuff he’s crazy. Imagine getting THAT SOUND that’s been rattling ‘round your head every since you first heard Hendrix, or Cream, or Led Zeppelin, or Black Sabbath, or any of the other late 60s/early 70s luminaries who made use of this particular guitar processor. And think about the fact that more recent generations have perfected the circuit, coming to a point in time when one can evaluate all the various options and tweaks and customization techniques, and come up with the ultimate pedal that can do it all (albeit with a proper set of germaniums—the innovations can only improve on a circuit with a properly matched pair)…this is what my brother-in-law did, and I’m beyond impressed…anyway, there’s bound to be an mp3 or two arriving soon, by way of demonstration…
Gay Marriage is inevitable. This weekend I’m going to my first lesbian wedding. And naturally, I’m stoked. Also, I’m happy to get this first one out of the way, since I expect that this will become more and more commonplace. In my daughter’s class alone (about 20 kids) there are three other kids with two-daddy parents, and one with a two-mommy household, and they’re getting married this weekend. One of the two-daddy households we know, not from our class, has three kids. And they’re all adopted, full and proper. And they’re a great family. So, it is inevitable. Why? Because those kids are going to grow up. And they’re going to flourish, because their families loved and supported them. And even if some of those kids become politically active on this issue, or feel that they have to, they won’t have to. And they won’t need to because their own example will prove that Gay Marriage works, and that Gay Households are just as valid and normal and great as anyone else’s. In fact, it should help serve to crystallize the issue—because these kids are going to do statistically better than all those children of alcoholics, of addicts, of abusers and batterers, of absentee parents, and of, yes, divorced heterosexuals. And a whole lot of people in this country will need to re-examine their beliefs. And those who don’t, well they’ll be dead soon, won’t they?
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May 03, 2007
PAUL WILLIAMS RETURNS TO SAVE MANKIND
It's been nearly seven months since last we checked in with paul williams, the man some say is the most sensitive soul ever to lay finger to piano keyboard...paul williams, who serenaded the boy in the plastic bubble (glynnis o'connor, where are you?), who pioneered the bell bottoms & semi-trans sunglass look for little people everywhere, the very same paul williams, who always got to make sweet baby love on fantasy island (and not with tattoo)...
Paul, welcome back. We know that the road can be a harsh mistress. Is that why Condoleeza Rice has largely avoided it over the past year, instead choosing to exercise her diplomatic mission by attending prayer breakfasts in Illinois, and using her world-class negotiating abilities to secure significant discounts at designer shoe stores?
PW: She's the kind who says goodbye to houses when she's leaving them for good thinks about the beauty of the forest when she burns a piece of wood She's the kind who lays awake and worries when the headline tensions grow thinks about the unborn generations and a time she'll never know...
I wonder if we might be able to borrow your old soul, your love of naugahyde, the way you thoughtfully twirl a spoon...in fact, I was just about to open up this bottle of mateus...so please help me answer the big question that's been weighing on my mind: bobby goldsboro or mac davis?
PW: oh I think a little charlie pride would hit the spot right about now...
Of course. the obvious choice. Hey, what's a guy got to do to get fired nowadays? alberto gonzalez, paul wolfowitz, ehud olmert...it seems that anyone with a very bad performance record, a half-assed defense of that performance, and then a public relations disaster, is subject to, well, nothing! They just keep right on doing what they're doing...meanwhile I know lots of people who've been laid off for no reason whatsoever....how to make sense of this Paul?
PW: If it's for the last time let us reach for a star cast one shadow with the last of the candle's glow for the last time breathe as one then if it will, let it be done...see the last of what's begun then if it will, let it be done...One last time I'll be a part of you until our feelings have a taste and when my time is through whatever becomes of you never let a feeling go to waste...
I am ashamed of the man I have become. You have shamed me, paul williams, merely by sharing the wonder and beauty of your inner self. you are a magical child. I would continue to gaze upon you like a demigod, but I have a few more questions...
What's the story with Dick Cheney, the sinister eminence grise? I mean, I know you've spent some time with him, back when he was entertainment liaison for Nixon...I mean, here's a guy who's responsible for thousands of human deaths, who spends his free time pursuing a hobby of killing animals, and when asked questions about his own daughter, says that he "thinks the world" of her, instead of simply "I love" her? I only bring this up since most people who meet you and spend time with you come away with more of a puppy love vibe, rather than provoking international wars...your thoughts?
PW: If it hasn't got a name no one can claim it. It will always be our own to wander free and no one will dare to tame it. we can share it and then watch how it grows but let's not call it love...
You have such a keen sense when it comes to megalomaniacal autocrats...tell me, who do you like in the fight this weekend, De La Hoya or Mayweather?
PW: pound for pound, it's hard to bet against Mayweather, but I'm still not convinced he can take a punch (mainly because few have been able to touch him yet), and he doesn't have the KO power of other so-called greats...still, I like Mayweather to win, but I think it'll go to the scorecards...with a rematch very likely, if only because of the money involved....
Ladies & Gentlemen, a big round of applause for presidental medal of freedom recipient, Mr. Paul Williams!
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May 02, 2007
THE BEAT GOES ON
...tick tock around the block...
thudstaff turned me on to these magical little time-keepers...picking one up today...not sure if it's possible to wax eloquent about something as prosaic as a wristwatch (but without the shiny aspect), but I'm sure I'll have something to say about its effect on my playing...
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May 01, 2007
OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS GO OUT TO THE FAMILIES
...when bush nominates his ass-kissing czar, the choice will be obvious...
Matt Lauer is an idiot. This week the Today Show is asking us, “where in the world is Matt Lauer?” We should only be so happy were he to get stranded in that faraway land and henceforth all electronic transmissions from that remote hideaway were to be destroyed for all time by some sort of cosmic karmic fiat. But of course that won’t happen. The morning news, once a viable way to get one’s headlines before heading out for the day, is now poisoned, and I believe it’s a permanent condition (they’re all ‘today’ clones now, even the comically sinister kool-aid groupswill of “fox & friends”). And as one witnesses the whittling away of the talent—the departures of Brokaw, Pauley, Gumbel, and now herself the leggy/plastic Katie C, the NBC suits have finally crystallized the solution by featuring the key player in their decades-long plunge into pure, unrepentant mediocrity.
But why pick on Matt Lauer? After all, wouldn’t you be happy to wear an apron, stand over a hot plate, watch Wolfgang Puck make low-carb crepes, and declare their yummyness to humankind for $10M a year? Sure, sure, sure…after all, you’ve got unfat Al Roker there to be the buffer against any and all one-dimensional jokes and barbs (and to be fair, Roker’s one actual improvement that they’ve made—I still wake with the nightsweats, cold with terror at the sight of Willard Scott, all jowls and gapped teeth, gleefully pitching smucker’s as he cuddles up with yet another centenarian fossil). But, alas, that is not where it ends. Were that Mr. Matt was merely placed there for the daily routine of tasting crepes and interviewing pregnant Britney and adroitly convincing us how stoked he is that the Backstreet Boys are preparing to “rock the house” at their Friday concert series. But his job description also includes interviewing world leaders. And that’s where it gets a little dicey. Remember, he works for a corporation that fired Donahue because the liberal schpiel might alienate “sponsors”…of course, this was years before NBC's classy performance in dealing with the Imus debacle (cut & run) and the Va Tech slayings (releasing the killer’s pictures and videos was perhaps the most crass example of yellow journalism I’ve seen in my lifetime)…
But let’s get back to Matt. In the past year or two, I’ve seen him outmatched by such intellectual luminaries as Tom Cruise and George Bush Jr. and Borat. Next to him, Tim Russert sounds downright professorial. His "best friend"—the guy they brought on as a "surprise" guest at his big 10th anniversary special (the prevailing logic being that once one has been doing the same job for a single decade, then naturally one gets a two-hour television program produced in tribute to all the great achievements during those 10 years, such as morphing one’s hair style from dark brown/wavy to something resembling the mildew that grows on old jars, or feigning amusement at the rotund jocularity of Gene Shalit, or explaining to yet another crime victim how your thoughts and prayers are yet again going out to them—matt must be a very religious man), turns out to be Bryant Gumbel? What, don’t these people make friends outside of work? Your best friend in the world is someone you met at a job you’ve only worked at for 10 years, and moreover, he’s the guy you replaced? Does nobody but me find this strange? But here’s the kicker—they’re (alleged) golf buddies. So far, the single thing that does make sense. Because if there’s one thing that binds all one-dimensional corporate types, it’s the elusive chasing after the little white ball, safely segregated from the lower classes…you know, all those little people who work at the radio and newspapers…
Enter Meredith Veira. This, to me, was the stealth move that might just put Mr. Lauer out of business. Ah, who am I kidding? Why topple the gravy train? Still, a little reference for comparison: the first time I became aware of Ms. Veira, she was turning down a gig at 60 Minutes. The first time I became aware of Mr. Lauer, he was the fill-in guy on the 6pm news. She: journalist. He: headline reader. She: Finder of facts. He: Reader of words. Now: teammates. With the plump and jovial black man and the emotionally-prone asian chick (thanks Ann, for pointing out that the slaying of 30 innocent people is “tragic,” I needed that guidance…), I tell ya, it’s amazing I can keep the cheerios down long enough to make it out the front door…
Then again, I’m totally not gender-appropriate. This is a show for women. Just about 14 minutes into the broadcast, right after Ann Curry is able to pull herself together, touch herself up after weeping over the senseless tragedy of human existence and read the news headlines, we dive right in—here’s this morning’s news items that you simply can’t live without, with my very own suburban mom translator:
Dad recounts triumph over grizzly attack (mothers! Hide your children from the bears!)
4 fashion items worth the splurge (your life is a meaningless grind of ennui and servitude unless you can get out there and spend his money!)
Moms vs. dads: parenting showdown (don’t feel bad about withholding sex…everybody’s doing it!)
Is red meat linked to breast cancer? (if you can watch, and understand, a piece about steak destroying your boobs, then the steak can’t destroy your boobs)
iVillage: get the skinny on fat substitutes (if you watch a piece on fat substitutes, you’ll get skinny. Also, staring at a computer screen for hours and hours totally makes you skinny)
have a name for the baby rhino? (aww. Babies. Cute. aww... )
Not to be unkind, but what the frig does this have to do with anything? But before you answer that, let’s cut to Matt, who is in Ireland. Now I'll freely admit that I didn’t see this piece myself. But I’ll be so bold as to take a wild guess: Matt likes it there.
Hey, it beats staring at a hotplate…
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