“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.” — Bilbo Baggins (J.R.R. Tolkien), The Fellowship of the Ring
Fireworks over the Charles River, Boston, 4 July 1983 (photo: spitballarmy.com)
Had a Declaration of Independency been made seven Months ago, it would have been attended with many great and glorious Effects . . . . We might before this Hour, have formed Alliances with foreign States. — We should have mastered Quebec and been in Possession of Canada …. You will perhaps wonder, how such a Declaration would have influenced our Affairs, in Canada, but if I could write with Freedom I could easily convince you, that it would, and explain to you the manner how. — Many Gentlemen in high Stations and of great Influence have been duped, by the ministerial Bubble of Commissioners to treat …. And in real, sincere Expectation of this effort Event, which they so fondly wished, they have been slow and languid, in promoting Measures for the Reduction of that Province. Others there are in the Colonies who really wished that our Enterprise in Canada would be defeated, that the Colonies might be brought into Danger and Distress between two Fires, and be thus induced to submit. Others really wished to defeat the Expedition to Canada, lest the Conquest of it, should elevate the Minds of the People too much to hearken to those Terms of Reconciliation which they believed would be offered Us. These jarring Views, Wishes and Designs, occasioned an opposition to many salutary Measures, which were proposed for the Support of that Expedition, and caused Obstructions, Embarrassments and studied Delays, which have finally, lost Us the Province.
All these Causes however in Conjunction would not have disappointed Us, if it had not been for a Misfortune, which could not be foreseen, and perhaps could not have been prevented, I mean the Prevalence of the small Pox among our Troops …. This fatal Pestilence compleated our Destruction. — It is a Frown of Providence upon Us, which We ought to lay to heart.
But on the other Hand, the Delay of this Declaration to this Time, has many great Advantages attending it. — The Hopes of Reconciliation, which were fondly entertained by Multitudes of honest and well meaning tho weak and mistaken People, have been gradually and at last totally extinguished. — Time has been given for the whole People, maturely to consider the great Question of Independence and to ripen their judgments, dissipate their Fears, and allure their Hopes, by discussing it in News Papers and Pamphletts, by debating it, in Assemblies, Conventions, Committees of Safety and Inspection, in Town and County Meetings, as well as in private Conversations, so that the whole People in every Colony of the 13, have now adopted it, as their own Act. — This will cement the Union, and avoid those Heats and perhaps Convulsions which might have been occasioned, by such a Declaration Six Months ago.
But the Day is past. The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America.
I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.
You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. — I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. — Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.
- Letter from John Adams to Abigail Adams, 3 July 1776
After landing at the airport yesterday, I got a taxi to the Charles Hotel. The old tunnel that used to connect the airport to the North End is now closed and undergoing repair, according to my cab driver. The new tunnel, which we took, connected directly to the - apparently - massive underground transit system of tunnels created in the “Big Dig.” So massive, in fact, that I didn’t see any daylight after going below ground at the airport until we surfaced a few blocks east of Massachusetts General Hospital, right on the Charles River.
It was an absolutely glorious day, weather-wise, and the clarity of sky and sun gave practically everything the appearance of a post card photograph. And the cab ride was appropriately frenetic, as I sat on the edge of my seat, craning my neck to see what I could along Storrow Drive. Hatch Shell. Mass. Eye & Ear Infirmary. Rowers. My favorite bike trail along the south side of the river. The “inkwad.” Finally, the Kennedy Street bridge came into view, and it looks like it could really use some repair.
In the lobby of the Charles, I met a fellow as we waited to check in who seemed to be a musician - the big bass fiddle and three unpacked bows among his luggage gave it away. Turns out he is the bass player in Michel Camilo’s jazz trio, who are playing here at the hotel all weekend. Nice guy. He was digging the fact that the hotel was playing “A Love Supreme” over the house system. Something you likely wouldn’t experience in Alabama.
I checked in and dropped off my stuff in the room. Damn room had a feather bed, if you can believe that! Many other nice amenities, like a TV screen in the bathroom mirror, but I’m doubting that I’ll get a whole lot of use out of these things. There is a “cube” directly across the hall from my room - a cubicle - with a computer and free internet access.
Went randomly walking with little purpose, and noticed several places I used to go to that are now either vacant buildings or replaced by other businesses. There are hardly any of those great used music or book stores left. I especially miss the one on Church Street, which is now a bunch of offices. Thank God there seems to still be no McDonald’s in the Square, but there are plenty of Starbucks storefronts, which is just plain odd in an area with sooooo many great small indie coffeehouses.
Walked through the Yard, saw Thayer Hall [my Freshman dorm], went by the Fogg Art Museum. Then decided to go in - I don’t think that I went into the Fogg more than two or three times during the nine years I lived up here. And I didn’t have to pay to get in then. There was a fascinating Rembrandt painting entitled “Bust of an Old Man.” I must have stood in front of that painting for at least five minutes. The lighting within the painting is very poetic. Lots of travel in that man’s face.
Rembrandt Harmensz, van Rijn Bust of an Old Man (1632)
There was also an exhibit of contemprary artists upstairs. I especially liked the works there of one Sol DeWitt (or maybe it was LeWitt) [it turns out to have been LeWitt, even though there is an artist named Sol DeWitt]. One was an intricate series of straight-edge pencil lines on a white wall that was in the shape of an arched doorway. Maybe I’ll try to make that someday. He also made a sculpture that appeared made of ½-inch by ½-inch strips of wood. It occupied a corner of one room. It looked like this,
one on each side of the corner. Nine cubes across the top, tapering down to one at the bottom. Wood, painted white. It was quite magical in prescence, even though it was so obviously mathematical and “perfect.” I imagine that this is where texture comes in: if the material was metal, or even some kind of composite, it may have seemed somewhat more sterile and less “alive.” Very nice.
There was also an exhibit room devoted to 20th century German art. It included some Max Beckmann paintings that were very Weill/Brecht. Loved the self-portrait.
Max Beckmann Self-Portrait in Tuxedo (1927)
Also, some crazy contraptions that were some kind of “light machines,” constructed from disparate pieces of polished steel or chrome that would spin slowly, while a fixed white light would project their changing movements as shadows on a wall. This was displayed in a dark room, with heavy velvet curtains for doors.
Ed Harcourt will be performing on The Tonight Show (hosted by Taylor Hicks’ uncle, Jay Leno) this evening (it’s a repeat from June 6th)! Word from the NBC website states that Harcourt will be playing a song from his amazing ”new” album The Beautiful Lie, which actually was released in England in 2006…it just took the United States record industry two years to get it here. I’ll post the video right here if it is made available later.
In the meantime, here’s an AOL Sessions performance from Ed, played on March 21, 2002. It’s a rewarding view: primarily just voice, piano and…trumpet.
The Workplay Theatre here in Birmingham, Alabama, just announced today that Tift Merritt and Teddy Thompson will be playing a joint date on Sunday, September 7th. Who’s headlining? Dunno. My guess would be that Merritt will be the headliner, as she has quite a bit more history in this town, but it would be great to see a co-headlining show similar to those awesome Nick Lowe/Ron Sexsmith concerts that peppered the country over the last year. Tickets for the Tift & Teddy Show go on sale on Friday, July 4th, and they’re only $13.00! The venue’s website can be found at www.workplay.com.
Well, the year is officially half-over: thus it is also officially more half-full than half-empty, meaning that there is no hope for pessimists. Little joke there, ahem.
As discussed somewhere on this blog recently, I am today submitting to you my favorite music of the year, so far. Anyone who has frequented this website over the past several months will not be surprised by any of these choices, but here they are anyway, committed to paper, if you will.
Why no Top 10, you ask? Honestly, there have not been ten releases this year that caught my attention in the way that the following five have. Among albums getting a lot of notice, the new My Morning Jacket LP left me confused, and the Coldplay CD has one really great song (the title track), but the rest of the album just blended into the background for me. The good news is that I have six more months to listen to many of these records again, and to hear lots of new, potentially wonderful, works.
Let’s compare notes: what has made the grade for you so far in 2008? I’m listening…
Kathleen Edwards Asking for Flowers After I spent two or three afternoons in a row listening to this album repeatedly, relentlessly focused on the distraction while I pulled weeds in my front yard, I was ready to crown Kathleen Edwards as the next great hope among the current young crop of songwriters. My opinion of her work on this album has not wavered. Though I do not know if she gathers all of her material from real-life experiences, there is a wide streak of experiential wisdom in many of these songs. “Alicia Ross,” inspired by a highly-publicized murder and abduction case in Canada, is imbued with sorrow for the small, lost details from a tragically unfulfilled life. The elegiac “Scared at Night,” describes a farmyard shooting accident that seems much too horrific to have been fabricated, and its subsequent life lesson. And the epic “Goodnight, California,” sounding at any moment as if it is going to explode into a 21st century version of “Cortez the Killer,” plays like a taut maelstrom of late night inertia during an encounter at a bar. Accompanying all of this wistful, dark imagery are some of the most elegant melodies likely to be heard all year.
“Oil Man’s War” could lazily be interpreted as a musical diatribe against corporate and national policies regarding fuel, money and war. In fact, the song is most intimately concerned with the tentative details between a young man and woman who decide to marry and flee the United States for a safe haven in Canada where they can live peacefully and raise a family. The war, and the political concerns, are - as Alfred Hitchcock would call them - the MacGuffin. The poignancy of the song is created in the small, personal details: Bobby borrowing a neighbor’s round toe shoes for the wedding, Annabel’s second-hand white dress, the wrist corsage, Annie’s fearful anticipation of her first sexual experience.
“Oil Man’s War” from Asking for Flowers
The title track from Asking for Flowers is currently available as a free download from Amazon, in an exclusive acoustic version.
Fleet Foxes Fleet Foxes My guess is that the principal members of this band come from families where the parents love music and play it often. How else would such young people be able to create work that shows influences from not only some of the better independent rock bands of recent years (My Morning Jacket, Great Lake Swimmers), but the soaring harmonies of Crosby, Stills & Nash, the baroque folk textures of Fairport Convention, and the majestic anthems of The Band.
All of these qualities are found in the song “He Doesn’t Know Why,” where they are blended into a heady mix that sounds simulaneously triumphant and as comforting as a warm embrace.
“He Doesn’t Know Why” from Fleet Foxes
Fleet Foxes also released a five-song EP entitled Sun Giant this year, and it matches all the qualites of Fleet Foxes, in miniature.
Ry Cooder I, Flathead Ry Cooder has found himself a groove over the last few years, creating song cycle prisms through which he can spin yarns about American everymen while indulging his voracious interest in all aspects of this country’s musical heritage. Last year’s My Name is Buddy and his prior release, Chavez Ravine, focused on depression-era Americana and Chicano culture, respectively. I, Flathead outdoes both its predecessors by offering a hardbound novella written by Cooder that manages to encompass his many interests, from car racing to country musicians to political subversives to…well, the list seems endless. Each song on the accompanying CD seems to exist in its unique musical universe, and several reach back as far as Cooder’s 1974 masterpiece Paradise and Lunch for a stylistic touchpoint.
In “Spayed Kooley,” Ry Cooder injects his droll humor into a song that musically recalls both Chet Atkins and Bob Wills, with a Jerry Reed-like vocal. The subject? Homeland security, in the form of his trusty guard dog.
“Spayed Kooley” from I, Flathead
Teddy Thompson A Piece of What You Need
Each Teddy Thompson album is better than the last. Piece boasts some deceptively complex production work, wise and world-weary lyrics, and one of the most affecting vocal talents in the recording business.
“Don’t Know What I Was Thinking” shows off Thompson’s remarkable emotional range as a singer, a facet of his talent that, until this album, has merely been respected. It deserves more rewarding notice than that.
“Don’t Know What I Was Thinking” from A Piece of What You Need
I almost hesitate to mention one problem that I have with this release, as it has nothing to do with the audio content, but what the heck. Joining a growing trend in the CD market, A Piece of What You Need comes housed in a standard jewel case containing the disc, a tray card with the track listing, and a single-fold booklet containing only a two-panel photograph on the inside…there are no liner notes! For lyrics and musician and production credit information, Verve directs purchasers of the CD to Teddy Thompson’s website, an insulting move that I equate with Random House, or any book publisher, sending book readers to the internet for footnotes or the index. Stop it!!
Mason Jennings In the Ever
Mason Jennings has crafted a handful of songs that are immediately likable and artfully ambiguous. I talked a bit already about this record and my struggle to resist Jennings’ charms here. More evidence, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: Jennings’ “In Your City,” in which you can hear the ghosts of Tin Pan Alley, Dooley Wilson and Tom Rush converge and walk off into the sunset with Charlie Chaplin.
“In Your City” from In the Ever
The following albums have also gotten some prime, and well-enjoyed, listening time in my home:
Of course, there is always something that can go wrong, and my driver’s license expired on 9.1, so I was flagged as “SSSS” or “special screening.” It basically meant nothing more than being sent through a separate line and being paid extra special attention. That was OK by me. The handlers were all very nice and I honestly can’t see what all of the fuss is about - people complaining that they’re constantly being delayed due to security at airports, and what an inconvenience it is. Small price to pay for a sense - nothing more - of security. Maybe they ought to leave for the airport 30 minutes earlier next time.
Anyway, I’m on my way to Boston now. Somewhat mixed feelings after the phone call from Mom last night [illness alert]. Can’t say that there is anything I could do if I didn’t go on this trip, but I’ve got a feeling of guilt nonetheless.
I haven’t been on an airplane since 2000 [yep, seven years without setting foot on an airplane], when I flew a few times to California when Dad was sick. It’s a very different procedure now. Seems that the airlines have left most of the work to computers, as I got my parking deck ticket from an automated machine, and checked-in on a touch-screen computer, received my boarding passes from a computer. All that the person at the counter did was wrap a sticker/tag on the handle of my suitcase. It was very easy, but certainly not personal.
There were seven separate animals being checked in for my flight: six dogs and a porcupine. I asked the freight guy who was standing there about all the animals - he said it was the first porcupine that he’d ever shipped!! What a claim. [To see a real flying porcupine circa WW2, check out this video.]
Seemingly out of nowhere, I received an invitation from my friend Elisa, via Facebook, to take part in the Critical Mass event in Birmingham last Friday. I say “out of nowhere” with only partial accuracy, as Elisa knows that I have started riding my bicycle again, and she is a cycling enthusiast, as well. The surprising aspect was that I had never heard of Critical Mass before, even though it has been around for years.
Critical Mass events occur on the last Friday of each month. They were started as a form of awareness-raising for the co-existence of bicyclists with automobiles on roadways. The first event was in 1992 in San Francisco. Since then, they have come to be considered a form of political protest, a social movement, and are unique in that the typical Critical Mass gathering is rhizomal, rather than hierarchical (I won’t take credit for that imaginative use of the word “rhizomal,” which I cribbed from a very detailed description of Critical Mass on Wikipedia, which I recommend that you read). If you spend much time in the garden, you know that I am likening the group structure and format of this organization to a self-propagating plant, and it fits.
Since taking up biking again this year, I have been trying my best to discover “friendly” routes around the city. My motivation has been three-fold: I could use the exercise, gasoline costs have gotten worse than ridiculous, and my carbon footprint has gotten much larger than my shoes can contain (so to speak). Birmingham is not easy for bicycles, however. There is one bike lane in the middle of the city, and it is essentially an extra lane on 7th Avenue South that connects several business areas without approaching any residential areas. I imagine that it’s useful to couriers, but that’s it. The two best routes that I have found between my home and downtown take me either down a very heavily travelled road filled with speeding and honking cars, or along a frontage road that parallels the railroad tracks, and is riddled with ruts that threaten to grasp my front tire and toss me over the handlebars. Elisa confirmed my opinion of the sorry state of road cycling when she described in excited detail her reactions to the reckless behavior of car drivers in this city, which consist of high-volume vocal protests and energetic extensions of her middle digit.
The Critical Mass ride on Friday attracted the largest group yet in Birmingham, according to one of the regulars, who told me that the group was only begun here this past February. Our group was 18 cyclists strong. The bikes ranged from sleek touring cycles to beach cruisers. The attire ranged from skin-tight logo-laden apparel to baggy khaki shorts (me). Some riders had helmets, some wore baseball caps. Men and women, ranging in age from around 20 years of age into their 50s. Compared to Critical Mass groups in some larger cities, we were tiny, but there was an excitement among the people there that seemed to indicate that the idea was finally taking hold. For instance, we haven’t gathered enough riders to pull off a “cyclone” yet, but that day may be here before long.
Birmingham Critical Mass event: 27 June 2008 (photo: Elisa M)
The political aspect of Critical Mass was not fully clear to me until I read that Wikipedia entry this morning. Reading about it encouraged me that I might actually have found a way to be an “applied activist”; that is, to be involved in a movement or for a cause that could directly impact the way that I, and others, live. I am in hushed and reverent awe of people I know who regularly step out of their daily routine to make their voices heard in selfless ways. In particular, my cousin Margy, who has always been one to translate her political opinions into action. Recently, she travelled from the West Coast to Washington, DC, and performed Butoh dance tableaux in front of the White House as a protest against the current administration’s policies. [For more informaion about that group of citizens - the Ground Zero Players - and their activities, click here.] That is the kind of conviction that most of the rest of us rarely have an opportunity, or the inclination, to express.
Not barbarians, but Butoh-ians, at the White House gate.
I am of the opinion that the priorities of the city of Birmingham ought to be focused on maintaining and improving its current infrastructure to keep the quality of life of its citizens as high as possible. That does not mean building a flashy new equestrian center on the western outskirts of town, or a domed stadium on the eastern edge of the city. The city we live in needs to be user-friendly. Part of that very simple concept includes providing ease of access for citizens who desire to be ecologically-conscious as well as for those who are physically-impaired, to encourage the use of self-propelled transportation as well as establishing a more widespread and accessible mass transportation system.
These are simple and easy ideas that everyone can agree on.
Will you join our critical mass next month? We’ll meet at 6:00 p.m. where 20th Street South meets Linn Park, and will proceed on our cycles - in rhizome-like fashion - from there.
Wild Sweet Orange, a band hailing from right here in Birmingham, Alabama, made their national television debut on Late Night with David Letterman last night. Their new album will be unleashed on the public on Tuesday, July 29th. The band played their song “Ten Dead Dogs.” Here’s the video clip:
Have you heard, or seen, the current television commercial for Aviva Financial Services?
Aviva has licensed the song “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In,” originally in the musical play Hair, and later recorded by The 5th Dimension as a chart-topping hit.
The arrangement of the song that is used in the Aviva commercial is instrumental until the end of the spot, when a brief part of its title-bearing chorus is sung.
The chord progression sounds remarkably similar to The Eagles’ song “Hotel California.” I found myself humming “Hotel California” this evening while within earshot of the TV, then was startled when I heard the “Aquarius” chorus join me at the end of the ad.
Can I demonstrate this co-incidence by showing you the commercial via YouTube? Yes, I can:
Audio clips of the two songs, for your examination:
“Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” by The 5th Dimension [edited to begin at 2:18]
The late author and actor Spalding Gray’s 1991 monologue ”Terrors of Pleasure” is a hilarious and horrifying document of his obsession with home ownership. No one involved in the uncomfortable process of selling Gray the “little house that cried” is spared skewering, nor are his Catskills neighbors or the crusty New England workmen who attempt (or avoid) repairing the cabin’s defects.
Spalding Gray recorded this monologue in 1991. A short film - with fewer asides - was also made from this material, but is very difficult to find. Below is a clip from the audio recording.
At this point in the monologue, Gray has met with realtor Jamie d’Angelo at least once to investigate purchasing a decrepit cabin in the mountains, thinking that it would make an ideal, rustic setting, perfect for inspiring his writing career. Upon closer inspection, the house is rife with serious problems, including - but not limited to - a furnace in the attic, a shifting foundation, and a porch that is travelling away from the building. Gray has expressed his intentions to buy the property, contingent on d’Angelo arranging repairs to the home. D’Angelo is unaware that Gray has spoken to some of the same people about doing the work.
excerpt from “Terrors of Pleasure” (1991) by Spalding Gray
Unfamiliar with Spalding Gray’s work? Here’s a short clip (just under six minutes) from the Jonathan Demme film of his monologue, Swimming to Cambodia, in which he recounts his experiences while filming The Killing Fields:
