I’m not a big fan of singer Chris Brown. I don’t like how he treated his girlfriend, Rihanna, but I do appreciate the pressure he’s feeling from his neighbors over an invented Urban Semiotic problem that he’s deeply invested in on a career angle. No, I’m not talking about his Graffiti album, I’m talking about his driveway.
When you’re in the midst of writing something, you settle into a natural rhythm. The words set the backbeat and the fingers follow the melody in your mind. Yesterday, when I sat down to write about the sun, there was a lot of racket outside my window as four corners of an intersection were being torn up to replace the sewer drains. I decided to put on my closed-ear headphones, crank some iTunes music to drown out the heavy machinery, and write my article. I discovered, to my dismay, that something had changed as my natural writing manner was out-of-sync with my eye. My fingers couldn’t find the melody. My words had no natural backbeat.
Stephen Stills is one of those rare musicians who not only forms the cultural sound and comprehension of a decade or two, he also divines the definition of the spirit of its people. Stills’ career has arced over a half-century of our lives from Buffalo Springfield to Crosby Stills & Nash (and sometimes Young!) to Jimi Hendrix diving into a fine solo career.
It is a grey day here in Portugal — the sun has temporarily deserted us hidden behind layers of cloud. I have a day full of chores ahead after a weekend of relaxation. Cleaning, laundry, changing cat litter — all the mundane things I love to “hate” but know have to be done. Mr P is already fielding phone calls, organizing international transports from France to Portugal via our usual third-party who just happens to be in Brazil this week — the usual Monday mediocrity.
When I passively heard news reports Bob Dylan had been voted into the “prestigious and elite” Academy of Arts and Letters, I was surprised, and immediately recalled famous Groucho Marx quote, “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.” Bob Dylan is no hoity-toity academic — he’s a measured man of depth and magnitude. What was going on?
Last night was supposed to be the premier of the penultimate “American Sign Language Only” episode of ABC Family Channel’s teenage soap opera, “Switched at Birth.” Janna and I urged our ASL students to watch the episode because we believed the hype and the PR that this would be an episode to remember. It was not. The show was a tremendous disappointment and I’ll tell you why.
The one bright spot in the show was this “Deaf Power” banner that struck a long-ago memory in Janna when one of her teachers at the Iowa School for the Deaf said that action was forbidden on campus because it was was rude and disrespectful. For Janna to see one hand covering an ear and the other hand raised in a fist filled her with both terrible regret at believing a repressive Hearing teacher, and terrific pride that, in the end, the Deaf will own their own place in the world.
Bryan Ferry has always been a magical, musical, mind — and the evidence of that genius can today be found in his new “The Jazz Age” album packed with his current hits, re-performed as 1920′s Jazz standards. Yes, the idea is confounding — making new music sound old in practice and performance – but, in the ear, everything is ultimately pleasing in the effort and effect.
Taking turns is one of the most important — yet underused and underappreciated – totems of social living. I’m not talking about, “It’s My Turn!” as in the clarion call of a self-centered existence when it comes to job promotion or marriage tying; I’m talking about public moments in society when we are confronted against each other and there’s a moment of wondering if I should go or if you should go — and it seems we have an ever-deepening problem with being strong enough, and confident enough, to let the other person go first and subsume our own personal entitlements for the goodness of making things actually work between people with warring wants.
The year 2012 went by rather quickly for me — one day at a time, as it were. It was a year of many moments spent with my wife and son and remarkably not too many spent attending concerts and movies as in years prior to Chaim being born — but we are quite okay with it and know that it too shall pass and we will eventually have a sitter over more than once every half a year or so.
I have long been a fan of Trey Anastasio, lead singer of Phish and extraordinary guitarist who seems to have tried his hand at more styles of music than the average musician. I was first interested in Trey Anastasio as a musician outside of Phish when he released a self-titled album in 2002.
On Monday evening, I attended a concert at the Bowery Ballroom — it was The Mountain Goats with opening band Matthew E. White. There were a number of occasions when I could not help but notice people being not just a little impolite but outright rude and I think that it is high time that you, if you are unaware, learn exactly how, you too, can join the ranks of people being rude at concerts.
Like so many, I have followed Fiona Apple from the moment she released Tidal and have enjoyed just about every note, and have been wondering along with David W. Boles when she would release a new album and I am pleased that the time has finally come in the form of an album whose title starts with The Idler Wheel and continues for a good number of words but is still a bit shorter than one of Apple’s previous albums, When The Pawn…
I have not always been a fan of Ringo Starr. Of all the Beatles, I liked him the least — for me it was always John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and then finally Ringo. Yet between the two Beatles that are with us now (those being Paul and Ringo), I actually prefer Ringo a bit even though Paul does so much to promote vegetarianism. When I listen to McCartney’s newer music I don’t quite feel the same enthusiasm as I did with his earlier work, both with The Beatles and with The Wings. I was therefore intrigued when I saw that Ringo was coming out with a new album, and that its title was a tribute to one of his best selling solo albums — Ringo. I am happy to report that it is a strong album, albeit short — I will get to that.
I am crazy wild about Warren Haynes. He’s a SuperGenius guitarist and composer and performer and he’s one of the greatest guys in the world. How do I know the character of the man? I follow his career. I watch his interviews. You can’t hide from his goodness. Mean people try to mask who they really are and they are never successful. Good people are open and welcoming and unpretentious. Warren Haynes is one of the good guys. Warren has a new Blues album that dropped this week — Warren Haynes Band Live at the Moody Theatre — and it is a rip-your-throat-out Blues album that is packed with a ferocious, and pleasing, energy.
