SOME of what I'm thinking...

because it's not all fit for public consumption.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

 

Pervez Musharraf on The Daily Show


That's why Jon Stewart et al. win Emmys.

You're either with me or against me on this one.

Nuff said.

posted by yours truly at >>

Sunday, September 24, 2006

 

Nostalgia For Compulsory Sequential Song Play


I purchased my first record album (a.k.a. LP) when I was in fourth grade. It was "ChangesOneBowie," and I was ten and had just come home from a summer in Burbank with my cousins. There I had fallen head over heels - as much as one can at age ten - for thirteen-year old Allan Domkus, who was the biggest Bowie fanatic in all of Burbank anyway, and who at that tender age had already recorded a demo tape of himself and some friends doing not-too-shabby covers of several Bowie tunes, with Allan on vocals.

Allan went on to found Scaterd Few, a legendary L.A. punk band who distinguished themselves as much by the fact that they were born-again Christians as by their sophisticated songwriting and musicianship, and Allan's extraordinary vocal prowess.

In any case, "ChangesOneBowie" was a great first album to purchase because, well, it's a great album - and a superb introduction to Bowie. I subsequently became a full-fledged Bowie-phile in my own right, and spent pretty much every cent I got my hands on - including the $24 a day I would take home after working eight hours in hotel gift shops (which at that time also served as concierges) with my mother on Saturdays and Sundays - collecting his albums. The Bowie inventories at the Record Factory on Polk Street and Tower Records on Columbus were my holy grail; between those two stores I collected all of Bowie's official RCA releases, as well as the wonderful comic-covered double "Images" album on London/Decca, and from thence began my long love affair with music in general.

Fast forward to the fall of 1998, when I unloaded (literally) all of my vinyl at Rasputin's on Telegraph Avenue before moving to New York. No way I was going to haul hundreds of LPs with me when I didn't even own a turntable anymore. I sold what Rasputin's would buy and left the rest of my records in two boxes on Channing and drove away.

At that point I had replaced probably 75 percent of my vinyl collection with CDs. Happily for me there is really only one item from the remaining 25 percent whose loss I have mourned over the years, and that is a Grandmaster Melle Mel and the Furious Five LP whose lesser tracks (among the greater were "White Lines" and "We Don't Work For Free") apparently were too obscure to warrant digital release.

CDs were a revolution back then, but fast forward again to 2006 and the revolution is being broadcast via your computer in the form of iTunes, and its ultimate vessel, the iPod.

Your own personal, portable jukebox bearing the soundtrack to your life - what could be better? Random play, that's what! Random play was (and is) a boon to those of us with massive music collections because it enables much needed random access to every tune in the library and liberates us from playing favorites by facilitating ongoing unprejudiced survey of the music we own. Not to mention that it creates a hell of a mix. It used to be my Walkman on the bus playing back a mix tape of my own creation - now it's iTunes on my desk (working to musical accompaniment is probably my favorite benefit of working from home) or my iPod in the glove box playing back a monstrous mix tape that draws from my entire music collection and relies on computerized statistical analysis for its always fresh track list.

As I understand it, this has been the gripe of many artists who have hesitated to make their music available through iTunes - perhaps chief among them, as far as this line of reasoning is concerned, the Dave Matthews Band. An album, after all, is not merely the sum of its parts, but a composition in itself in terms of the final track listing (at least this applies to artists who have control over such matters - and those who don't are not under consideration here). So a set of songs is labored over for months and sometimes years, a selection of songs is made, and then those songs are set down in an order that the artist feels makes the songs individually and the album as a whole convey the best possible result of their own creative process. So the album as a whole, cohesive unit has significance beyond being a vessel for the individual songs. And it is precisely the sale of individual songs that has given DMB and others pause where iTunes is concerned.

At any rate, my point is that after giving oneself over - happily - to the wonders of random play, one is in for an unexpected, at once nostalgic and fresh, surprise when one one day disables random play and listens to a familiar album in its original sequence and in its entirety. For someone like myself who grew up in the era of 33rpm format albums, on some level this experience is a flashback to a simpler point in time when listening to music wasn't about pushing play but about lowering the stylus - and, admittedly, when so much technology and so many choices were not available to us. The drill went something like this: march down to the record store, purchase an album (or two or...), march home, unwrap the album, remove the sleeve from the cover, remove the LP from the sleeve, place it on the turntable side A up, power on, and drop the needle. There was no song hopping unless it was performed manually and with not a little trouble. And if you were a song hopper, you probably purchased singles (45's - remember those too?!) rather than albums because the whole point of an album, after all, was to hear it out. It was a kick-back, chill-out experience. It was about hearing what the artist had to say.

And, yes, in a way it was about passive reception, whereas random play and the many other listener-enabling glories of the digital age make music appreciation these days a much more interactive pursuit.

But let's face it: those were the good old days. So try turning off random play and listening through one of your favorite old albums in its original sequence. You'll rediscover something special in the old order.

Oh - and p.s. - these are the pretty good new days, so you can always resume random play after strolling down memory lane.

posted by yours truly at >>

Saturday, September 23, 2006

 

Savion Glover Continues To Amaze


Last night I went to see Savion Glover's current production, "Classical Savion," in which he taps in concert with an ensemble of about ten musicians playing mostly classical music. As happens every time I see him, my feeling that he is the greatest live performer on the planet - just an awe-inspiring blend of genius musicality and world-class athletic physicality - was reinforced, and powerfully. While jazz definitely is his primary medium - he quite literally is jazz incarnate - it was a revelation to see him interact with classical music. The jazz sensibility he injected into those centuries-old compositions lent them an exciting new accessibility that would go a long way toward restoring a degree of currency (dare I say modernity?) to the classical genre. Indeed if an audience of school kids were treated to a performance of "Classical Savion," they would develop a keen new consciousness of a musical form that otherwise likely would escape their notice entirely. Classical music, after all, isn't a leader in the download market.

Savion Glover continues to expand the boundaries of tap, and in doing so he continues to shed new light on the musical forms to which he sets his performances. His work is the most exciting, fresh, and meaningful example of artistic/creative expression that I have had the thrill of witnessing.

I wrote the following after the last time I saw him:

Friday, March 12, 2004


There is a boy... 


... a very talented, gifted boy.*



Well, he's a man actually, and his name is Savion Glover. I would pay to watch him walk down the street.

Let me back up. I went to see Glover, his band, and his co-ed dance troupe, Ti Dii (pronounced "tie dye"), tonight at the Masonic Auditorium, where they opened the San Francisco Jazz Festival. Glover, in addition to being the greatest living tap dancer - perhaps the greatest tap dancer who's ever lived - has branched out: he's now singing (during his stunningly physical performance, it is worth noting, he never appeared out of breath) after the fashion of Billie Holiday; he uses his voice primarily as an instrument. Thus, while he leads the band, he is the only person onstage simultaneously playing two instruments: feet and voice. He participates in the music as a band member rather than as a dancer for whom the band is providing accompaniment.

Glover helped me to realize, to understand, finally, what a small city San Francisco is. As I watched him I flashed back to the first two times I saw him live, in New York, in his brilliant, Tony Award-winning stage production, "Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk" (first at the Public Theatre [in '95] and then at the Ambassador [in '96 - on Broadway!]). Glover is an irretrievable New Yorker: there is no other city in the world that could satisfy (or perhaps give rise to) his energetic creative appetite, no other that could contain the artistic force he represents. I briefly wondered where he was staying in San Francisco, and tried to imagine what, if any, interest he might have in my little City by the Bay, which amazes me daily. I had to laugh, for I'm certain he finds San Francisco nothing more than quaint, hilly, and quiet. New York is where it's at, and if you don't agree, check out what it has produced in Savion Glover (not that he's going to be hanging around - this was a one-off show for SF).

This was my fourth time seeing him live (the third time was on his Footnotes tour at SF's Golden Gate Theater in 2001), and my opinion has been the same since I first heard the opening thumps of Noise/Funk: Savion Glover is the most exciting live performer on the planet. As I sat watching him do what he does - a mind-blowing combination of dance, percussion, improvisation, and sheer athleticism - my mind overflowed with things I wanted to write down to capture the energy he brought to the stage. But as I sit here now trying to remember all of the words and phrases that were floating around in my head, I draw a blank. I am overcome by the residual dazzle that Glover leaves in his wake. And the fact is, his energy, what he does, cannot be captured by language, which, for all of its possibilities, is too static a medium to get a handle on this wondrous soul.

Glover came onstage in loose-fitting tuxedo pants and a loose-fitting shirt of a pleasing blood orange hue, and of course his famous size 12 Capezios.



By the time he'd finished the first half of the program, in which he danced solo for forty-five minutes, sang, and orchestrated the movements of his formidable jazz band, his shirt appeared to be dark maroon. The amount of perspiration that gushed forth from his body could have been measured as rainfall - his head alone, crowned by dreadlocks that probably reach the middle of his back when they're down - generated a small waterfall. The athleticism of what he does - not only from a cardiovascular perspective, but given the impact to his bones and joints - is breathtaking. I read online this evening, in an article that originally appeared in the New York Times, that he loses about a pound a night when he's performing. I would love to know what his nutritional regiment is, and what sports doctor is keeping him in such fine form. He must have the body fat of a marathoner.

I'm saying a lot of nothing because, as I said, I'm still bedazzled. But I must add that his dreadlocks add a fourth dimension to the visual spectacle of his performance by doing their own little dance at the back of his head as he taps, pounds, stomps, glides, slides, and at times floats about the stage. The weight and density of his locks must amount to a bit of a burden when he's performing under high-intensity lighting; they probably account for half the perspiration that streams from his head while he's dancing. But thank goodness he's got them, because they truly make him flow (in more ways than one) from head to toe.

The brief interval featuring Ti Dii, three additional male and four female dancers, was exhilarating. Seeing hard-hitting women "hoofers" is a rare treat, and one senses that Glover has picked the best to dance alongside him. Michelle Dorrance was, in my opinion, the best of the women. Her foot articulation matched, if not surpassed, Glover's own, and even he seemed entranced as she danced her solo. He had all of the dancers line up and take the stage individually, introducing them by name halfway through their performances. While Dorrance danced, Glover was silent, and he remained so until the next dancer began and he realized that he had forgotten to say Dorrance's name. He said, "That was Michelle, y'all... Michelle ROC-co!"

Cartier Anthony Williams, the youngest member of the troupe, has been dancing with Glover for many years, and clearly is poised to be the next Savion. His footwork is stupefying, but I wonder whether he will be able to keep dancing on the sides of his feet when he is a big, tall man. Regardless, the speed with which he moves his feet announces that the next generation already has arrived.

But Glover remains the master, and as long as his body holds up, no other tap dancer will outshine him. He is pure, powerful genius.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

* "Nature Boy" by Nat King Cole [Glover's rendition]

There was a boy
A very strange, enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far
Very far, over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
One [very] day he passed my way
While we spoke of many things
Fools and Kings
This he said to me

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

posted by yours truly at >>

Archives

June 2006   September 2006   October 2006   November 2006   December 2006   February 2007   December 2007   January 2008   April 2008   May 2008   June 2008   July 2008   November 2008   December 2008   January 2009   February 2009   March 2009   April 2009   September 2009   November 2009   March 2010  

To Blogger