Finally got my first day of skiing in, squeezed in between three Saturday conference calls for work.
No comment on the circumstances - the skiing was okay, though. Snowing moderately when I get started, the sun came out around 1PM, good visibility and there a decent amount of loose, soft snow scattered across the December hardpack. Not mkuch for terrain, but I got 13 runs in and skiied pretty well.
A bit tired and legsore by 3:30, so quit a little early.
They got some snow this week - almost a foot - and a few runs off Lift 6 finally opened up.
No pics, sorry.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Not getting any better
The RW has its boot on my neck - 25 years in IT and never come across a project so fraught with fear, loathing, ass-covering, power-posturing and crushing demands. It's killing people off. One by one.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Too damn busy
The day gig's been straining me close to the point of breaking lately - working weekends, 12 hour work days, etc. More to come the next several weeks, unfortunately, so struggling to keep up with life outside the office.
Had a great interview with Al Stewart last week - haven't transcribed yet, but it's fair to say that Stewart is as much a history buff with a guitar as a songwriter with a penchant for writing historical-subject folk songs. We found oruselves discussing Solzhenitsyn and Kirov and some of the under-reported brutalities of WW2. Looking forward to the story.
Next week is somewhat dicier - I had hung my hat, probably mistakenly, on getting an interview with Bruce Hornsby. And as Sunday approaches, nothing in hand and prospects dim. Plus, my usual editor is taking two months off to wander South America, and I'll have a new guy to deal with. Time to scramble, and I hate scrambling.
Deinitely off-balance entering the holiday season. Plus...mountains aren't getting any snow, and I need to ski !!!!
Grrrr....
Had a great interview with Al Stewart last week - haven't transcribed yet, but it's fair to say that Stewart is as much a history buff with a guitar as a songwriter with a penchant for writing historical-subject folk songs. We found oruselves discussing Solzhenitsyn and Kirov and some of the under-reported brutalities of WW2. Looking forward to the story.
Next week is somewhat dicier - I had hung my hat, probably mistakenly, on getting an interview with Bruce Hornsby. And as Sunday approaches, nothing in hand and prospects dim. Plus, my usual editor is taking two months off to wander South America, and I'll have a new guy to deal with. Time to scramble, and I hate scrambling.
Deinitely off-balance entering the holiday season. Plus...mountains aren't getting any snow, and I need to ski !!!!
Grrrr....
Friday, November 20, 2009
"Stratos"
Bouyant, melancholy, evocative. Like drifting across a sunset-stained cloudbank, evening stars just appearing overhead. Serrie is an amateur pilot - I have to wonder if a non-pilot could have composed/performed this.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Delaware Hotel
Time and tide have gotten the better of me the last few weeks, but wanted to get in and post some notes about the last two investigations we've done.
The Delaware Hotel was built in 1886 by the Calloway Brothers, three merchant brothers from back east who traveled to Leadville, CO during its ascendancy as a prosperous mining town in the early 1880's. The hotel saw many famous figures from the Old West travel its hallways - U.S. Grant, Butch Cassidy, etc - and it remains one of several steadfast icons from the town's Victorian heyday.
The lobby doubles as an antique shop, and most of the rooms are still open to visitors. Most are small, a little creaky, and all feature antiques (for sale) from various periods.
The hotel itself closes in the winter, a little counter-intuitive since Leadville is fairly close to the small but very nice Ski Cooper resort. The owner doesn't want swinging skis knocking over the lamps, etc - a fair concern, I guess, but one has to wonder if the hotel and the town might not benefit from some overnight tourist business during ski season.
We visited here a couple of years ago, during a ghost hunting tour hosted by one of the groups we belong to. We came up by ourselves this time.
The front desk guy Joe took us on a brief tour of the rooms and shared a few of the stories that the housekeeping staff had about questionable events in the hotel. Specifically, the sound of children in the second floor hallway, and a male spirit who appears occasionally on a couch in the third floor hallway, evidently a somewhat snarky chap who does not like men and appears only to women. (Note: the best haunted hotel stories always come from the housekeeping ladies.)
As far as our investigation, a couple of items of note:
Just after we checked in and arranged with Joe to tag along on his afternoon rounds through the rooms, I was stepping away from the desk and turned toward the stairs when I hit a genuine cold spot about six feet from the front desk. Now, I've been doing this for a few years and have never actually hit a cold spot before. This was a cold spot. I stopped, stepped back, and went over the same space again, and nothing. There was no ventilation grate above, beside or below me - just a small metal carpet joint flange at my feet. It felt planar to me, like a sheet of cold rather than a 'blob' of cold (and it was very cold, easily 15 degrees colder than the outside temperature), it felt like it was moving slowly toward the desk, and there was no activity at the front door just prior, which was 18-20' feet away anyway. Sharon was several feet away and didn't feel it. It didn't last more than 3 seconds or so, but it was interesting.
We got nothing on the static IR video we ran on the room while we were out to dinner, and nothing on the digital recorders. However, we did leave an EMF detector on when we turned in for sleep. The TV, suspended by a bracket over the desk facing the bed, was set on a self timer.
We had done some baseline readings on and around the desk earlier, and there was a very small but steady background EMF response on the meter. As we were watching TV, the meter suddenly off - two or three beeps, a moderate spike, then silence. Eh, ok.
About 2 hours after the TV shut itself off, and we were asleep - probably 2:30AM - the EMF detector suddenly went absolutely nuts. Rapid beeps (indicating a high spike), for 10-15 seconds. Loud and sustained enough it woke both of us up. No movement above us on the third floor, nothing electrical in the room or below us to cause this. **Edit: Sharon reported to me, and I had forgotten this, that during the period that the detector was spiking, she distinctly heard the floorboards in our room creaking. I didn't hear this, but I was 3/4 asleep at the time**
Paranormal? Dunno, but some would count it as evidence.
Nice place, we'll go back again.
The Delaware Hotel was built in 1886 by the Calloway Brothers, three merchant brothers from back east who traveled to Leadville, CO during its ascendancy as a prosperous mining town in the early 1880's. The hotel saw many famous figures from the Old West travel its hallways - U.S. Grant, Butch Cassidy, etc - and it remains one of several steadfast icons from the town's Victorian heyday.
The lobby doubles as an antique shop, and most of the rooms are still open to visitors. Most are small, a little creaky, and all feature antiques (for sale) from various periods.
The hotel itself closes in the winter, a little counter-intuitive since Leadville is fairly close to the small but very nice Ski Cooper resort. The owner doesn't want swinging skis knocking over the lamps, etc - a fair concern, I guess, but one has to wonder if the hotel and the town might not benefit from some overnight tourist business during ski season.
We visited here a couple of years ago, during a ghost hunting tour hosted by one of the groups we belong to. We came up by ourselves this time.
The front desk guy Joe took us on a brief tour of the rooms and shared a few of the stories that the housekeeping staff had about questionable events in the hotel. Specifically, the sound of children in the second floor hallway, and a male spirit who appears occasionally on a couch in the third floor hallway, evidently a somewhat snarky chap who does not like men and appears only to women. (Note: the best haunted hotel stories always come from the housekeeping ladies.)
As far as our investigation, a couple of items of note:
Just after we checked in and arranged with Joe to tag along on his afternoon rounds through the rooms, I was stepping away from the desk and turned toward the stairs when I hit a genuine cold spot about six feet from the front desk. Now, I've been doing this for a few years and have never actually hit a cold spot before. This was a cold spot. I stopped, stepped back, and went over the same space again, and nothing. There was no ventilation grate above, beside or below me - just a small metal carpet joint flange at my feet. It felt planar to me, like a sheet of cold rather than a 'blob' of cold (and it was very cold, easily 15 degrees colder than the outside temperature), it felt like it was moving slowly toward the desk, and there was no activity at the front door just prior, which was 18-20' feet away anyway. Sharon was several feet away and didn't feel it. It didn't last more than 3 seconds or so, but it was interesting.
We got nothing on the static IR video we ran on the room while we were out to dinner, and nothing on the digital recorders. However, we did leave an EMF detector on when we turned in for sleep. The TV, suspended by a bracket over the desk facing the bed, was set on a self timer.
We had done some baseline readings on and around the desk earlier, and there was a very small but steady background EMF response on the meter. As we were watching TV, the meter suddenly off - two or three beeps, a moderate spike, then silence. Eh, ok.
About 2 hours after the TV shut itself off, and we were asleep - probably 2:30AM - the EMF detector suddenly went absolutely nuts. Rapid beeps (indicating a high spike), for 10-15 seconds. Loud and sustained enough it woke both of us up. No movement above us on the third floor, nothing electrical in the room or below us to cause this. **Edit: Sharon reported to me, and I had forgotten this, that during the period that the detector was spiking, she distinctly heard the floorboards in our room creaking. I didn't hear this, but I was 3/4 asleep at the time**
Paranormal? Dunno, but some would count it as evidence.
Nice place, we'll go back again.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Buried
Plowed under by the day job...but a couple of investigations to note, and smattering of music news to report.
Coming soon....promise.
Coming soon....promise.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Hot licks and rhetoric
For the die hard fans of Steely Dan, at least those who savored and enshrined Becker and Fagan's stature as paradoxical hitmaking anti-heroes of the 1970's, seeing them back on tour is a mixed blessing. As good as the songs were, they were an essentially studio creature - legendarily so, notorious for maddening precision and driving producers and record company execs to the point of befuddled frustration. Seeing these songs staged, thirty years hence, throws a lot of sunlight on musty iconography, and that's usually a recipe for disappointment.
In fairness, of course, the band has now been a traveling road show on and off for 16 years, a lot longer than they were a studio-only enterprise, and to their credit, their live shows do come off as plausible expressions of respect for their material - not an easy nor common feat for near-40 year veterans whose heyday was during the Ford and Carter years.
Their "Rent Party" tour swung through a few days ago. I had dithered a bit about going - wife was out of town, work and other matters had driven me into a bit of a hole and, to top everything off, Denver got hit the day before with a massive, ensnarling snowstorm, threatening to make the highway-stretch 30 mile drive from Boulder a royal pain in the ass...which it was.
The tour had the 13-piece band alternating "Royal Scam +" and "Aja +" setlists - playing one or the other album all the way through, with other tunes. Denver was Aja night.
After a good but indifferently received set by opener Sam Yahel's trio - a NY-based B3 player vaguely evocative of Charles Earland and Jimmy Smith, and while a terrific player, comically out of place in a large arena setting - the band took the stage and leaned straight into the quizzical funk of "Black Cow", kicking off the entirety of Aja . The crowd, predictably, went off the grid.
The Aja portion seemed to fly past quickly, Fagan up front did not address the audience once during the 7-song stretch. Probably our favorite was the under-appreciated "I Got The News", with its slick backbeat, hard breaks and gorgeous vocal arrangements, one of the two or three tunes all night that really seemed to stretch the band toward its capabilities. "Peg" was also a highlight, rendered somewhat faster than we would have expected and featuring some of lead guitarist Jon Herrington's best soloing all night.
The centerpiece of the album, of course, is the elegant and beguiling title track (which I had forgotten was sequenced as the middle track of side one). In all honesty, we've seen them stage it three times now (in 1994, 95 and this past week), and I remain convinced that, while a fan favorite and probably near to the top of their 70's-era repertoire, they haven't yet managed to recreate the loft and grace of the studio version. It was great to hear it, and wicked fan fun to watch now-longtime drummer Keith Carlock re-interpret Steve Gadd's galloping breaks near the end of each instrumental movement, but none of the live versions just don't seem to tease and pirouette like the sublime studio version. "Aja" is a coy mistress, who does not seem to travel well. They'll keep playing it, bless 'em, and they should; maybe one of these days they'll absolutely nail it. I hope they have a tape running that night.
Fagan loosened up a bit after the Aja section, chatting up the audience, mugging at the band, waving madly at the song codas. Now in their early sixties, both he and Becker bear the demeanor of a couple of retired literature professors - graying, a little awkward and stiff, almost doddering, incongruous to the lanky, smart-assed, jazz-obsessed shut-ins that cranked this shit out way back when.
Some of our favorites: "Time Out of Mind", which I always found one of Gaucho's low spots, came across crisp and sharp. Herrington saved this one with incisive, serrated lead guitar accents, weaving in and out of Mark Knopfler's original lines. "Bodhisattva", breakneck fast and all hyper-caffeinated snark, one of Steely Dan's most subversively weird post-bop concoctions. "Show Biz Kids", surprising entry here, good clean mean-spirited fun; not the cleanest arrangement, but surprisingly more toxic than the original. Fagan seemed to relish this one - one can only hope he never loses his rageful disdain of pretense. "Don't Take Me Alive", personal favorite, Herrington on overdrive, trying to out-Carlton Carlton. "Kid Charlemagne", loopy and a bit of a wreck, but too good a song to screw up, Herrington teasing at the fringes of Carlton's iconic solo. "My Old School", set-ending rave-up, crowd pleaser. Put me on the Wolverine, ma.
Odd moments: Becker taking the lead vocal on "Daddy Don't Live in that NYC No More". Sorry, but the guy just can't sing; it was fun to hear one of the Dan's vintage low-life character studies, but it came across as a bit of a throwaway....one is tempted tto think it was always a throwaway The four-voice lady choir taking turns on lead for "Dirty Work", an oddly tender turn for an otherwise forgettable tune. Fagan gets props for mentioning original vocalist David Palmer (where is HE now? another 'Steely Dan alumnus', fossilized however fleetingly on Classic Rock radio.)
The mix was a little drum and lead guitar heavy, and horn and vocal poor I thought. Fagan's voice has lost a bit of its range and volume (the female choir neatly supported that second "is there gas the in car?" high note from "Kid Charlemagne" that Fagan probably hasn't hit since they recorded it in 1975.) Seemed to forget a couple of lyrics, too, but only the completists would have noticed, buried as it was in the mix.
Finally... we recall hearing the re-arranged "Reelin' In The Years" back in 94, on their second tour. Samba-esque, relaxed, almost wistful, a bit like an Aja outtake. But in Denver they delivered the straight, album-version arrangement , more rock-pop, and frankly, as fun as it was hearing Herrington copping Elliot Randall's legendary surf line, I liked the slower version better.
Which leads us into an observation. Little of the 70's era material was re-arranged, far less than what I remember from the two shows I saw in the nineties (capturing on the live CD Alive In America), which smacked a bit of blatant mass-appeal pandering, with the exception of Jim Beard uncorking a fantastic boogie-woogie piano solo intro to "My Old School" It's not as acute a complaint as it may seem - everything came across energetic and full throttle. The band is outstanding, and, hell, they can play their songs any way they want; questioning Becker and Fagan's arrangements is a dicey critic's conceit, and most of the originals were arranged just fine. The liturgy, though, holds up well to re-imagining, and it would have been fine with this listener had they stretched it a bit.
Maybe more troubling, the band performed none of their post-reunion studio work nor solo work - "no one wants to hear it" observed Fagan to the Boston Globe not long ago - and while I personally wasn't pining for "Cousin Dupree", it worried me that the band stuck strictly to fan faves (although no "FM", thankfully). It casts them into a role they can't possibly be happy with - recreating musty old gems from their past for stacks of glimmering nickels (did I hear Fagan say they make $400,000/show?). They DID look like they were having fun, as did everyone else (who paid $100 or more a seat), but the true believers get a little squirrely watching their heroes evolve into mere jukebots; a lot of serious musicians play to please themselves first, and leave the audience expectation game offstage. Is Fagan really happier playing "Reelin' In The Years" than "Green Flower Street"? Do these guys enjoy being retro pop heroes, after being scornful anti-heroes for the bulk of their careers?
If they tour again (and they certainly don't have to, on that kind of wage), I'm perfectly fine letting them play some from Two Against Nature or Everything Must Go, The Nightfly or Morph The Cat or 11 Tracks of Whack. That shit counts, too, in my book, and much of it is outstanding.
Makes us listen, guys. You haven't forgotten how to that, have ya?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The flattening of online relationships
One thing I have seen since I delved into the passively perilous world of Facebook is something I would refer to as the "flattening" of online relationships. People you are close to "in real life" have the same accessibility and visibility to the user as people with whom you have a chronologically distant, or proximitely tenuous relationship with.
On one level, this is quite appealing - it can be nice to catch up with people you haven't been in touch with, see what they respond to, what their current interests are. But it also tends to promote artificiality....that a comment from someone you really don't care much about resides beside a comment from someone you do.
A life is composed disproportionately of the now, and the idea that an online now can be effectively and realistically cobbled together with commentary and "likes" from people with whom you don't have anything in common reeks of falseness and forced intimacy. A bit like being trapped in an elevator with randomly assigned characters from your life, present and past, and wondering which one in a crisis you may have to trust your survival on. And they are simply chosen because they post alot on this silly app.
It is both a curiously effective tool...but also a circumscriber of false community, and I must admit I find myself surprisingly suspicious of it, and vaguely contemptuous of it. I wish to define my own life.
On one level, this is quite appealing - it can be nice to catch up with people you haven't been in touch with, see what they respond to, what their current interests are. But it also tends to promote artificiality....that a comment from someone you really don't care much about resides beside a comment from someone you do.
A life is composed disproportionately of the now, and the idea that an online now can be effectively and realistically cobbled together with commentary and "likes" from people with whom you don't have anything in common reeks of falseness and forced intimacy. A bit like being trapped in an elevator with randomly assigned characters from your life, present and past, and wondering which one in a crisis you may have to trust your survival on. And they are simply chosen because they post alot on this silly app.
It is both a curiously effective tool...but also a circumscriber of false community, and I must admit I find myself surprisingly suspicious of it, and vaguely contemptuous of it. I wish to define my own life.
Alright...rafting season is over
We got some measurable snow a week or so ago, but this weekend turned out to be warm and sunny, so we loaded up and headed off for an unspeakably nice day on the Upper Colorado. Cool when we launched and very chilly water (someone said 44 degrees), but the air temp rose to mid sixties and the colors out there, while well past their peak, were stunning. Cloudless, warm, empty river, about 1000cfs. Eagles, beaver, blazing riparian reeds and cottonwood of fading yellow.
Just doesn't get any better than this.
Waiting...waiting....
Time running out for a story on The Subdudes for next week's paper. Someone may get in touch w/me this afternoon...or not.
Are we in the waning days of my local music scholarship?
Are we in the waning days of my local music scholarship?
Friday, October 9, 2009
I had a dream...
...I was interviewing Pat Metheny in Las Vegas. He said he couldn't believe how well his last show went. I asked him how his writing had evolved over the years - drifting between abstract and literal - and then his girlfriend Claudine showed up, and I excused myself. And as I was walking away from the table, one of my teeth fell out.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Portugal.The Man
After getting stood up for our planned piece for the paper, we covered John Baldwin Gourley and Portugal.The Man instead.
Gourley is a thoughtful, clearly shy indie rocker originally from Alaska - an artsy type growing up in the lumber/guns/pickup world of the Yukon. His band, oddly punctuated Portugal.The Man, has been plying the club circuit for a couple of years now, and with the release this summer of their fourth long player The Satanic Satanist, is starting to garner some big-ink attention and, for the first time, big-time festival invites.
The CD is a keeper, an odd blend of Beatle-esque pop, retro-soul and spacey asides. Hard to pin down, but just this side of lyrical and musical genius.
We caught their first of two night sets at the B-side this past Friday. Somewhat thrashier and more aggressive than the CD suggested (the band's real indie rock roots are still dominating their live sets), the set was still chocked full of clever melodic channeling and atmospheric instrumentation. The place wasn't packed, but alot of the kids there knew the music inside out. They even covered Bowie ("Moonage Daydream") and quoted Three Dog Night ("One"). He never seems to stray far from his 70's rock radio heritage.
Gourley barely acknowledged the crowd, and addressed his mike sideways, spent a lot of time with his back to the crowd. A showman he isn't.
Count me as a fan. Great stuff.
Gourley is a thoughtful, clearly shy indie rocker originally from Alaska - an artsy type growing up in the lumber/guns/pickup world of the Yukon. His band, oddly punctuated Portugal.The Man, has been plying the club circuit for a couple of years now, and with the release this summer of their fourth long player The Satanic Satanist, is starting to garner some big-ink attention and, for the first time, big-time festival invites.
The CD is a keeper, an odd blend of Beatle-esque pop, retro-soul and spacey asides. Hard to pin down, but just this side of lyrical and musical genius.
We caught their first of two night sets at the B-side this past Friday. Somewhat thrashier and more aggressive than the CD suggested (the band's real indie rock roots are still dominating their live sets), the set was still chocked full of clever melodic channeling and atmospheric instrumentation. The place wasn't packed, but alot of the kids there knew the music inside out. They even covered Bowie ("Moonage Daydream") and quoted Three Dog Night ("One"). He never seems to stray far from his 70's rock radio heritage.
Gourley barely acknowledged the crowd, and addressed his mike sideways, spent a lot of time with his back to the crowd. A showman he isn't.
Count me as a fan. Great stuff.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Collins can't play anymore - followup
I'd be remiss...or I should say, I was remiss...in not noting that Collins' drumming career extended well beyond Genesis. The early Brand X records - frantic, blistering, screws-loose fusion, bred from an obvious love of Mahavishnu (without all the foreign-language modals) were chuck full of Collins absolutely playing his ass off outside the fairly rigorous controls of Genesis and their orchestral album-version dogmatism.
I've been tempted to turn my USB turntable process loose on a few of those records - Morroccan Roll and Unorthodox Behaviour especially - but I fear they're way too worn down for decent reproduction. In grazing my CD collection a few years ago, I did come across Missing Period, which is a collection of rehearsal versions of selections from both albums. Honestly don't remember ever getting the CD, but it was fun to find it and I do listen to it fairly regularly. There are a few obvious mistakes in there, and some comically off-the-grid soloing that would have sounded out of place (even for them) on album versions. But it's also a view into just how good this band was.
Phil hasn't drummed with Lumley and Goodsall for many years - but it'd be an oversight not to mention that affiliation in any discussion of Phil's drumming career.
Collins also showed up on other people's records - notably his old lead singer Peter Gabriel - but also outside the strictly-rock arena. I remember a long hitch I did from Boston to NY back in the late 70's, and getting picked up by a guy who, about my same age, also had very similar musical tastes and a a few tracks from Vimana, debut record from Narada Michael Walden's post-Mahavishnu fusion outfit. Terrific record, if not altogether easy to find anymore.
I've been tempted to turn my USB turntable process loose on a few of those records - Morroccan Roll and Unorthodox Behaviour especially - but I fear they're way too worn down for decent reproduction. In grazing my CD collection a few years ago, I did come across Missing Period, which is a collection of rehearsal versions of selections from both albums. Honestly don't remember ever getting the CD, but it was fun to find it and I do listen to it fairly regularly. There are a few obvious mistakes in there, and some comically off-the-grid soloing that would have sounded out of place (even for them) on album versions. But it's also a view into just how good this band was.
Phil hasn't drummed with Lumley and Goodsall for many years - but it'd be an oversight not to mention that affiliation in any discussion of Phil's drumming career.
Collins also showed up on other people's records - notably his old lead singer Peter Gabriel - but also outside the strictly-rock arena. I remember a long hitch I did from Boston to NY back in the late 70's, and getting picked up by a guy who, about my same age, also had very similar musical tastes and a a few tracks from Vimana, debut record from Narada Michael Walden's post-Mahavishnu fusion outfit. Terrific record, if not altogether easy to find anymore.
Inexplicata - band publicists
So...a band (and not exactly U2 here, kids) hasn't had new music out for nearly three years. They finally regroup, record a new CD and book a lengthy cross-country tour to promote it.
A writer, unsolicited, from one of those tour stops, sends a note to their publicist's office, four weeks ahead of time, requesting press support - a CD, phoner, etc.
They ignore him.
Make him go back and re-check his email contact info, and send another note. The Big Cheese gets and acknowledges it, passes it around their office; two days later, the ground game flunkie gets it and replies, asks for an address to send a CD (which was in the original email everyone ignored...)and says they'll work on getting an interview together...then they don't send a CD, but do tell you at the last minute the band can't do an interview (3 years off the road, and no one in the band has 10 minutes to get on the phone, with a week's notice???) and then casually ask for a pick story anyway.
Maybe I've been doing this too long...but wtf???
Dropped them. Picked up another artist for 10/1 edition. More later.
A writer, unsolicited, from one of those tour stops, sends a note to their publicist's office, four weeks ahead of time, requesting press support - a CD, phoner, etc.
They ignore him.
Make him go back and re-check his email contact info, and send another note. The Big Cheese gets and acknowledges it, passes it around their office; two days later, the ground game flunkie gets it and replies, asks for an address to send a CD (which was in the original email everyone ignored...)and says they'll work on getting an interview together...then they don't send a CD, but do tell you at the last minute the band can't do an interview (3 years off the road, and no one in the band has 10 minutes to get on the phone, with a week's notice???) and then casually ask for a pick story anyway.
Maybe I've been doing this too long...but wtf???
Dropped them. Picked up another artist for 10/1 edition. More later.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Gaming for the near-elderly
At this point, I have Undying, Oblivion, FEAR II, Bioshock and Fallout3 all loaded on the nice Intel quad core machine I put together (or I should say, my stepson put together, with minor assistance and relatively benign kibitzing from me...) this past July. I'm thinking of adding Titan Quest to that list.
I came to start using this handy little Belkin gamepad type device, that mimics the most typically used keyboard keys and adds some game-oriented flourishes, like another mousewheel, some joy buttons, etc.
Thing works great - it's nice to move the keyboard aside when you're playing, gives you a little more elbow room on a cramped desk - except for some reason (age related short term memory?) I'm having trouble remembering all the various key bindings for all the different games on it. I don't recall having this problem when I was just using keybord - so I'm inclined to think this is related to using this device, which actually moves me over to a different spot on the keyboard than I'm used to.
I came to start using this handy little Belkin gamepad type device, that mimics the most typically used keyboard keys and adds some game-oriented flourishes, like another mousewheel, some joy buttons, etc.
Thing works great - it's nice to move the keyboard aside when you're playing, gives you a little more elbow room on a cramped desk - except for some reason (age related short term memory?) I'm having trouble remembering all the various key bindings for all the different games on it. I don't recall having this problem when I was just using keybord - so I'm inclined to think this is related to using this device, which actually moves me over to a different spot on the keyboard than I'm used to.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Interview quote of the month
"I think of us as a stubborn effort to show people, in a microcosm, just how much humanity sucks."
Curt Kirkwood, speaking of his band The Meat Puppets, 9/18/2009.
Curt Kirkwood, speaking of his band The Meat Puppets, 9/18/2009.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Burning it up
Spent much of the weekend burning old vinyl to the iPod. The albums sit in crates in the garage these days - kind of a sad exile for my once-beloved collection. But they spent pretty much all of the 90's and this decade in a storage bin, cold and dark, no witness to the changing seasons or the many, many changes in my life. My old friends, my means of escape and glimmers of inspiration and benchmarks of an earlier life...like so much clutter now, and for so long.
Well, at least they're back in my own garage, and since May when I took them out of storage and we made room on shelves, I can actually visit with them sometimes. And I have, silly as that may sound. I have a strange relationship with things, and collections of things have their own unique character. It resides in the collective, and passes on some of that character to its individual pieces.
Sharon got me a pretty nice USB turntable for my birthday last spring, and I've used it on and off. Ripped five or six albums today - some old Tangerine Dream, REM, other things. I was reasonably pleased that most of what I have burned so far came from vinyl in serviceable condition. One REM record had irreconcilable warping/skipping on the first two songs (I ended up buying those two songs from iTunes to complete the album), but the others had little more than a thin veneer of popping and scratching. I guess I kept better care of my albums than I remember.
The turntable itself came with a sort of EZ burn software, that burns directly to MP3 and then prompts iTunes for an import into M4A. After some trial and error, though, I've settled on a different process that delivers higher fidelity sound, with only some drawbacks related to song titling, file size and file maintenance/handling:
1) Pulled down Audacity, a freeware sound recording and editing proggie, installed on my laptop.
2) Set up Audacity to record as .wav files. A few simple but necessary tweaks to the configuration may be found here.
3) Cue up an album, set Audacity to record, and just record the whole side. I started out babysitting it, but realized I didn't really have to - I just note the time and return in 15-18 minutes.
4) When the side is done, pause Audacity, flip the album, cue up, un-pause the program and repeat. Whole album on one wav file.
5) When done with the album, I save the Audacity project as .wav (I do 44K). It creates a pretty large file - 300mb to 500mb per album.
6) I transfer the wav file onto a flash drive, load onto my desktop (which also has Audacity), and proceed to edit.
7) Using the cursor function in Audacity, I select each song (usually have to expand the visibility range with the magnifying glass function), identify the beginning and end of each track, highlight that segment with the Audacity cursor, then Edit/Export Selection As Wav, title the file with the track title.
8) Bring up iTunes, navigate to the folder where I've stored the individual songs, and select Edit/Add File to Library. Once they're in iTunes, I highlight the whole batch, right click and apply Artist and Album Name under the Get Info tab (so I only have to do this piece once.) Save, then edit each individual Get Info tab with song name and sequence.
9) Plug in the iPod, sync up, and off we go.
A few notes on this process.
a) It leaves in all the scratches and surface noise. Audacity has filters that will suppress the minor white noise, but I haven't messed with them. YMMV.
b) This isn't for Nano users. The resulting wav files are huge - but the sound quality far exceeds that of M4A, and is (IMO) noticeably better than MP3. I have a 30 gb iPOd, all but 8 or 9 of my albums are M4A. You'd pack a 30gb iPod pretty quickly with all wav files - so, this process isn't for the storage-challenged. Of course, you can get by with a smaller player, and just swap music on and off it.
c) I usually adjust volume in iTunes (turn it up to about 70%) on all my uploads, wav or MP3/M4A. You can do that on Get Info/Options/Volume Adjustment. I have found it works more reliably once the files on the iPod, rather than pre-synced iTunes files.
d) I've noticed that iTunes will seem to add a leading sequence number to the track title if you play the file in iTunes. Annoying, didn't see that in iTunes v8. Also, be careful about song titles, sequence numbers and artist/album names when entering them on Get Info - mistyping any of these will create headaches in sequencing and grouping your music on the player.
e) It's a little weird to listen to stuff on an iPod with surface noise, pops and scratches if you've spent years listening to music on CD's or digital players.
f) It helps alot having more than one PC to do this - I was editing one machine while recording on another.
g) Leave yourself time to do this - even using the EZ Record software, it's still time consuming if labeling individual track titles matters to you.
h) Have a decent sized flash drive and at least one set of headphones handy.
i) Prepare to puzzle over why you liked some of this stuff to begin with...
Well, at least they're back in my own garage, and since May when I took them out of storage and we made room on shelves, I can actually visit with them sometimes. And I have, silly as that may sound. I have a strange relationship with things, and collections of things have their own unique character. It resides in the collective, and passes on some of that character to its individual pieces.
Sharon got me a pretty nice USB turntable for my birthday last spring, and I've used it on and off. Ripped five or six albums today - some old Tangerine Dream, REM, other things. I was reasonably pleased that most of what I have burned so far came from vinyl in serviceable condition. One REM record had irreconcilable warping/skipping on the first two songs (I ended up buying those two songs from iTunes to complete the album), but the others had little more than a thin veneer of popping and scratching. I guess I kept better care of my albums than I remember.
The turntable itself came with a sort of EZ burn software, that burns directly to MP3 and then prompts iTunes for an import into M4A. After some trial and error, though, I've settled on a different process that delivers higher fidelity sound, with only some drawbacks related to song titling, file size and file maintenance/handling:
1) Pulled down Audacity, a freeware sound recording and editing proggie, installed on my laptop.
2) Set up Audacity to record as .wav files. A few simple but necessary tweaks to the configuration may be found here.
3) Cue up an album, set Audacity to record, and just record the whole side. I started out babysitting it, but realized I didn't really have to - I just note the time and return in 15-18 minutes.
4) When the side is done, pause Audacity, flip the album, cue up, un-pause the program and repeat. Whole album on one wav file.
5) When done with the album, I save the Audacity project as .wav (I do 44K). It creates a pretty large file - 300mb to 500mb per album.
6) I transfer the wav file onto a flash drive, load onto my desktop (which also has Audacity), and proceed to edit.
7) Using the cursor function in Audacity, I select each song (usually have to expand the visibility range with the magnifying glass function), identify the beginning and end of each track, highlight that segment with the Audacity cursor, then Edit/Export Selection As Wav, title the file with the track title.
8) Bring up iTunes, navigate to the folder where I've stored the individual songs, and select Edit/Add File to Library. Once they're in iTunes, I highlight the whole batch, right click and apply Artist and Album Name under the Get Info tab (so I only have to do this piece once.) Save, then edit each individual Get Info tab with song name and sequence.
9) Plug in the iPod, sync up, and off we go.
A few notes on this process.
a) It leaves in all the scratches and surface noise. Audacity has filters that will suppress the minor white noise, but I haven't messed with them. YMMV.
b) This isn't for Nano users. The resulting wav files are huge - but the sound quality far exceeds that of M4A, and is (IMO) noticeably better than MP3. I have a 30 gb iPOd, all but 8 or 9 of my albums are M4A. You'd pack a 30gb iPod pretty quickly with all wav files - so, this process isn't for the storage-challenged. Of course, you can get by with a smaller player, and just swap music on and off it.
c) I usually adjust volume in iTunes (turn it up to about 70%) on all my uploads, wav or MP3/M4A. You can do that on Get Info/Options/Volume Adjustment. I have found it works more reliably once the files on the iPod, rather than pre-synced iTunes files.
d) I've noticed that iTunes will seem to add a leading sequence number to the track title if you play the file in iTunes. Annoying, didn't see that in iTunes v8. Also, be careful about song titles, sequence numbers and artist/album names when entering them on Get Info - mistyping any of these will create headaches in sequencing and grouping your music on the player.
e) It's a little weird to listen to stuff on an iPod with surface noise, pops and scratches if you've spent years listening to music on CD's or digital players.
f) It helps alot having more than one PC to do this - I was editing one machine while recording on another.
g) Leave yourself time to do this - even using the EZ Record software, it's still time consuming if labeling individual track titles matters to you.
h) Have a decent sized flash drive and at least one set of headphones handy.
i) Prepare to puzzle over why you liked some of this stuff to begin with...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Phil hangs up the sticks
Phill Collins can't play drums anymore, evidently. A spinal condition, evidently from too many years on the kit, has rendered it too painful to even hold sticks anymore.
Really a shame, as Phil is one of 70's prog rock's most accomplished drummers. We saw their comeback tour a couple of years ago, and while I wasn't altogether surprised by much on that giant and brilliantly lit stage (good show, great production, intelligent and thoughtful setlist, a shade bloodless in its delivery...), I was genuinely amazed at how good a drummer Collins still was in his late fifties, and especially after a protracted layoff. Thunderous and quick as a stampede of wild horsea, almost as if he hadn't missed a step since 1977.
One wonders now what role he'd play in any Gabriel-era Genesis reunion - during Gabriel's time, Collins sang only a smattering of backup, and lead only on a couple of ballads. Who'd drum? Chester? Manu Katche?
Maybe Bill Bruford could be coaxed out of retirement?
Then again...shouldn't prog rock be left to those young and idealistic and strong enough to play it with vigor?
Really a shame, as Phil is one of 70's prog rock's most accomplished drummers. We saw their comeback tour a couple of years ago, and while I wasn't altogether surprised by much on that giant and brilliantly lit stage (good show, great production, intelligent and thoughtful setlist, a shade bloodless in its delivery...), I was genuinely amazed at how good a drummer Collins still was in his late fifties, and especially after a protracted layoff. Thunderous and quick as a stampede of wild horsea, almost as if he hadn't missed a step since 1977.
One wonders now what role he'd play in any Gabriel-era Genesis reunion - during Gabriel's time, Collins sang only a smattering of backup, and lead only on a couple of ballads. Who'd drum? Chester? Manu Katche?
Maybe Bill Bruford could be coaxed out of retirement?
Then again...shouldn't prog rock be left to those young and idealistic and strong enough to play it with vigor?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Camping weekend
Sharon and I escaped for a two night camping weekend - much needed and very nice, indeed.
First night, Friday, we stayed at the private campground at Wolford Reservoir, a few miles north of Kremmling on the shores of, well, Wolford Reservoir. The res was constructed in '92-'94, and began filling in '95, holding about 66k acre-feet and provides some fish conservation and additional storage for Denver water, which they don't seem to need this year.
The campground is boater/RV-heavy, pretty much treeless and not necessarily the prettiest place I've been to. But the spot was ample, the facilities clean and newish - we scarfed down a dinner of chops and mac salad, konked out and left before 8AM.
Despite getting on the ramp pretty early at Pumphouse, we found a busy weekend on the upper Colorado, with a few parties (illegally, we think, still need to check) taking prime spots, leaving their camp and floating down to circle back for a second night, Pretty chincy stuff.
We managed to park in Bench 2, had a terrific evening, great fire, mesquite chicken and black beans/rice for dinner, and a not-too-cold night.
Counted at least 6 trains that night. On the float out, we spotted an osprey, two balds and a golden. Mornings do seem to be great for big bird watching out there.
After all these years, I've seen lots of make-do spots spring up on the run, especially in the lower section. I guess it speaks to the popularity of the reach - a little unsettling to see so much of the riparian shoreline overrun with camping spots now, but it's still a great run and a nice camping trip.
First night, Friday, we stayed at the private campground at Wolford Reservoir, a few miles north of Kremmling on the shores of, well, Wolford Reservoir. The res was constructed in '92-'94, and began filling in '95, holding about 66k acre-feet and provides some fish conservation and additional storage for Denver water, which they don't seem to need this year.
The campground is boater/RV-heavy, pretty much treeless and not necessarily the prettiest place I've been to. But the spot was ample, the facilities clean and newish - we scarfed down a dinner of chops and mac salad, konked out and left before 8AM.
Despite getting on the ramp pretty early at Pumphouse, we found a busy weekend on the upper Colorado, with a few parties (illegally, we think, still need to check) taking prime spots, leaving their camp and floating down to circle back for a second night, Pretty chincy stuff.
We managed to park in Bench 2, had a terrific evening, great fire, mesquite chicken and black beans/rice for dinner, and a not-too-cold night.
Counted at least 6 trains that night. On the float out, we spotted an osprey, two balds and a golden. Mornings do seem to be great for big bird watching out there.
After all these years, I've seen lots of make-do spots spring up on the run, especially in the lower section. I guess it speaks to the popularity of the reach - a little unsettling to see so much of the riparian shoreline overrun with camping spots now, but it's still a great run and a nice camping trip.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Ted Kennedy, RIP
Truly, the end of an era.
I remember both his brothers. Ted was the lost, last son, the eternal fuck-up living in the shadow of the mythologies around Jack and Bobby. And through hard work, and maybe a bit of penance of service, he became one of the greatest Senators in US history.
The nation, awash in ignorant and corrupt demagogues, is far poorer for his loss. I'm privileged, as a standard Eastern Irish Catholic liberal, to have lived and seen all three.
Yes. Liberal. Not apologizing.
I remember both his brothers. Ted was the lost, last son, the eternal fuck-up living in the shadow of the mythologies around Jack and Bobby. And through hard work, and maybe a bit of penance of service, he became one of the greatest Senators in US history.
The nation, awash in ignorant and corrupt demagogues, is far poorer for his loss. I'm privileged, as a standard Eastern Irish Catholic liberal, to have lived and seen all three.
Yes. Liberal. Not apologizing.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Carlton swings, connects
Guitar heroes come in various shades of showmanship and technique, but we're not sure where Larry Carlton really falls on that scale. Not a full-bore, standards-bound jazzer, nor really much of a heavy-artillery fusion player, and hardly a rock god, Carlton came across at his Boulder Theater appearance last Thursday as a sort of elder statesman/jack-of-all-trades, almost determined to evade an easy characterization, entirely consistent with his post session-years career.
He opened with a touching solo elegy for the recently departed Les Paul called "Goodbye", with whom he had a friendly acquaintance, and proceeded into two sets swinging from buoyant pop-jazz ("Smiles and Smiles To Go") to simmering funk-blues ("Burnable"), and even reached into his past (and present) for the Steely Dan staple "Josie", which he delivered sans vocals (comping the melody line) and after complying with an audience request (hardly unexpected) for a quick solo rendition of his famed "Kid Charlemagne" solo, which he picked off more or less note-for-note. Odd thing, recreating a solo from nearly 35 years ago, but amongst guitar aficionados, the thing remains a revered staple of post-rock era guitaring and Carlton seemed happy to peel it off.
His band consisted of his son Travis on 4 and 5-string bass, understated but flashing moments of rangy brilliance, and a very bad fellow named Gene Coy on drums, equally tough in the pocket as swinging wildly across the solo spaces. Expect to hear more from this cat.
And as for Carlton, the set seemed to serve a bit more bite than we were expecting (Carlton long ago mastered the grittier side of the Gibson 335's broad tonal character), perhaps intentionally to compensate for the lack of a keyboard player. We're not sure that Carlton plays the role of a power trio guitarist particularly well and we were sorry not to be able to enjoy a little more interplay between Carlton's gnarled harmonic wanderings and another lead player - keys, another guitar, horn, etc - but this was obviously a small-deal tour without fresh music to promote, so the three-piece configuration seemed entirely appropriate. Carlton's chops are still in evidence, although (again, as has always been his habit) he uncoils them sparingly, leaning more on nuance, shading and careful harmonic positioning. This lends itself to a better paced set and prevents the blues and fusion numbers from upstaging the lighter pop stuff.
This was, overall, a guitar lover's treat, and the guy's still got it. Catch him if you can.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Deadwood weekend
Back from Deadwood, SD. Went on a ghost-hunting jaunt with the two lead investigators from Fullmoon Explorations - small group, just the four of us.
The drive: Just a shade under 6 hours from Boulder, essentially following I25 north until it bends west to intercept Casper, WY. Then, WY18 due east, across rolling high-elevation prairie with a rocky ridge to the south. Then, US 85 northeast toward the Black Hills (which geographically start in Wyoming), rising up to 6800' at O'Neill Pass, then down to Lead (pronounced 'leed') and Deadwood, which is only 35 miles or so inside South Dakota. Pretty drive for the most part - immense valleys, deep forest, lots of antelope, the occasional vestige of a frontier town - although as a matter of driving, SE Wyoming can get a bit tedious.
The town: Living near two Victorian-era mining towns-turned-gambling/tourist towns, we pretty much knew the drill. Pockets of historic buildings in various stages of restoration, filled but not packed with tourists, fast food and tourist-trade vendors lining the perimeter, and, of course, casinos everywhere. Mostly slots, some tables in the bigger joints. Platoons of tour buses, the usually chain-smoking blue-haired ladies emptying their Social Security into quarter slot machines, some nice neighborhoods just outside the casino district, a few restored old 1890's architecture houses, some rundown properties. The locals we met were uniformly warm, friendly, talkative (especially on the subject of ghosts and hauntings in Deadwood) - very little of that tourist-town fatigue or cynicism we have found elsewhere, although I imagine it exists. The rude, ignorant, pushy, aggressively intoxicated, and needlessly vulgar personalities we encountered were all tourists.
Somewhat larger than Colorado's three gaming towns, Deadwood struck me as a little more kitsch than their Colorado counterparts, especially with the ubiquitous visage of "Wild Bill" Hickok, legendary gunslinger-gambler-turned-lawman-gambler, murdered (shot from behind, in the head) in 1876, just as the town was establishing. Hickok's renown in Deadwood bears only familiar passing to the truth, much of which (save his sharpshooting skill) is shrouded in dispute and mired in that uncomfortable place beside and somewhat beneath legend. The guy was either a semi-repentant murderer, a cool customer, a redemptive figure of Western justice, an icon of American no-bullshit frontiersmanship, or somewhere in between.
Anyway - you can't swing a dead cat in Deadwood without hitting some likeness of Wild Bill, nor escape the relentless romanticism of the gold rush years of the 1870's and 1880's. Deadwood is quite proud to remind you that in 1876, there were up to six murders a day in and around the nascent little settlement. (The place was tiny back then - a little math suggests some difficulty with that claim, but the truth is probably unknowable at this point, and the legend sounds good.) I think one needn't ponder too obliquely that gold fever, lots of whiskey, fast money and hordes of armed, frequently embittered and impoverished ex-Civil War vets all combined to make for a pretty dangerous and violent place. The imagery is period Americana, of course, and we're all suckers for it, but the reality of that kind of life at that time was probably grimier, more violent and more thuggish than tourist-trap displays and gunfight re-enactments can portray.
Anyway, Hickok's gravesite at Mt Moriah, attended here by the throngs from one of the tour buses:
The cemeteries. Mt Moriah, being the final resting place of the aforementioned Wild Bill, is a Deadwood tourist attraction and a regular stop for the near-daily tours. It sits quite high above the town, and is actually a pretty nice little plot. The town's original cemetery grew too small fairly quickly (familiar story in the West) and was moved up here and renamed to Mt Moriah in 1881. The original cemetery used to sit further down the hillside, and some property owners even today who do work around their homes in the area occasionally dig up bones. We had permission to visit Friday night (like most cemeteries, it officially closes at sundown), and a walkthru at night was a little creepy. I did feel during one stretch that I was being followed by someone about 20' behind me, stopping when I stopped, walking cautiously when I resumed. Lasted a few minutes. But short of reviewing all the audio, that's all I can report on nighttime at Mt Moriah.
None of my nighttime shots turned out, but here's one taken the next day, when Sharon and I headed back up for daylight pictures:
We also visited St Ambrose, the Catholic Cemetery down the valley about 6 miles or so and just off a hillside neighborhood. (Everything around Deadwood is on a hill, and some VERY steep.) Much smaller and not restored at all, we both enjoyed this peaceful place very much. Some terrific old ironwork gating, some collapsing graves, and not another person there with us. Most recent burial we saw was 2007 - Mt Moriah appears to be closed for new interments, except perhaps for grandfathered family plots.
Will post some on the investigation a bit later.
The drive: Just a shade under 6 hours from Boulder, essentially following I25 north until it bends west to intercept Casper, WY. Then, WY18 due east, across rolling high-elevation prairie with a rocky ridge to the south. Then, US 85 northeast toward the Black Hills (which geographically start in Wyoming), rising up to 6800' at O'Neill Pass, then down to Lead (pronounced 'leed') and Deadwood, which is only 35 miles or so inside South Dakota. Pretty drive for the most part - immense valleys, deep forest, lots of antelope, the occasional vestige of a frontier town - although as a matter of driving, SE Wyoming can get a bit tedious.
The town: Living near two Victorian-era mining towns-turned-gambling/tourist towns, we pretty much knew the drill. Pockets of historic buildings in various stages of restoration, filled but not packed with tourists, fast food and tourist-trade vendors lining the perimeter, and, of course, casinos everywhere. Mostly slots, some tables in the bigger joints. Platoons of tour buses, the usually chain-smoking blue-haired ladies emptying their Social Security into quarter slot machines, some nice neighborhoods just outside the casino district, a few restored old 1890's architecture houses, some rundown properties. The locals we met were uniformly warm, friendly, talkative (especially on the subject of ghosts and hauntings in Deadwood) - very little of that tourist-town fatigue or cynicism we have found elsewhere, although I imagine it exists. The rude, ignorant, pushy, aggressively intoxicated, and needlessly vulgar personalities we encountered were all tourists.
Somewhat larger than Colorado's three gaming towns, Deadwood struck me as a little more kitsch than their Colorado counterparts, especially with the ubiquitous visage of "Wild Bill" Hickok, legendary gunslinger-gambler-turned-lawman-gambler, murdered (shot from behind, in the head) in 1876, just as the town was establishing. Hickok's renown in Deadwood bears only familiar passing to the truth, much of which (save his sharpshooting skill) is shrouded in dispute and mired in that uncomfortable place beside and somewhat beneath legend. The guy was either a semi-repentant murderer, a cool customer, a redemptive figure of Western justice, an icon of American no-bullshit frontiersmanship, or somewhere in between.
Anyway - you can't swing a dead cat in Deadwood without hitting some likeness of Wild Bill, nor escape the relentless romanticism of the gold rush years of the 1870's and 1880's. Deadwood is quite proud to remind you that in 1876, there were up to six murders a day in and around the nascent little settlement. (The place was tiny back then - a little math suggests some difficulty with that claim, but the truth is probably unknowable at this point, and the legend sounds good.) I think one needn't ponder too obliquely that gold fever, lots of whiskey, fast money and hordes of armed, frequently embittered and impoverished ex-Civil War vets all combined to make for a pretty dangerous and violent place. The imagery is period Americana, of course, and we're all suckers for it, but the reality of that kind of life at that time was probably grimier, more violent and more thuggish than tourist-trap displays and gunfight re-enactments can portray.
Anyway, Hickok's gravesite at Mt Moriah, attended here by the throngs from one of the tour buses:
The cemeteries. Mt Moriah, being the final resting place of the aforementioned Wild Bill, is a Deadwood tourist attraction and a regular stop for the near-daily tours. It sits quite high above the town, and is actually a pretty nice little plot. The town's original cemetery grew too small fairly quickly (familiar story in the West) and was moved up here and renamed to Mt Moriah in 1881. The original cemetery used to sit further down the hillside, and some property owners even today who do work around their homes in the area occasionally dig up bones. We had permission to visit Friday night (like most cemeteries, it officially closes at sundown), and a walkthru at night was a little creepy. I did feel during one stretch that I was being followed by someone about 20' behind me, stopping when I stopped, walking cautiously when I resumed. Lasted a few minutes. But short of reviewing all the audio, that's all I can report on nighttime at Mt Moriah.
None of my nighttime shots turned out, but here's one taken the next day, when Sharon and I headed back up for daylight pictures:
We also visited St Ambrose, the Catholic Cemetery down the valley about 6 miles or so and just off a hillside neighborhood. (Everything around Deadwood is on a hill, and some VERY steep.) Much smaller and not restored at all, we both enjoyed this peaceful place very much. Some terrific old ironwork gating, some collapsing graves, and not another person there with us. Most recent burial we saw was 2007 - Mt Moriah appears to be closed for new interments, except perhaps for grandfathered family plots.
Will post some on the investigation a bit later.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Dreams again
Two dreams in the last week or so with Karin - neither compelling or profound, but still nice. First one we were talking on the telephone, second one she was actually talking to me in person.
Sharon's son Mike has been having semi-regular dreams about his Dad as well - evidently some of his possession were moved from their usual spot in the basement for the first time since his passing, and he thinks (and Sharon suggests as well) that may have something to do it.
Sharon's son Mike has been having semi-regular dreams about his Dad as well - evidently some of his possession were moved from their usual spot in the basement for the first time since his passing, and he thinks (and Sharon suggests as well) that may have something to do it.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Carlton
Spun off a quick story for BW about Larry Carlton, guitar maestro, former Steely Dan sideman and all around consummate musician. They never got back to me about an interview - pity, he's a great chat and used to be very accessible to the press. Should run this Thursday.
Couple of weeks off to recharge. What's next?
Couple of weeks off to recharge. What's next?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Hack 'n slash bulletins
It appears that a few former Iron Lore employees who went on to found Crate Entertainment have now secured rights to use the Titan Quest engine for their upcoming, as-yet untitled game. Actually, cool - Titan Quest burrowed its way into my marrow and would not let go. They've probably been using it all along, and just finally finished up the paperwork.
Anyway...bring some joy to the heart of an unreconstructed Diablohead.
And speaking of Diablo - news on the development of Diablo III is typically hard to come by. Blizzard is notoriously efficient at keeping the lid on development news.
BUT...comes word from some unsourced source (huh?) that the game may actually spawn a beta in September and see full release in December.
...uh, December 24th, though?....
Anyway...bring some joy to the heart of an unreconstructed Diablohead.
And speaking of Diablo - news on the development of Diablo III is typically hard to come by. Blizzard is notoriously efficient at keeping the lid on development news.
BUT...comes word from some unsourced source (huh?) that the game may actually spawn a beta in September and see full release in December.
...uh, December 24th, though?....
Writing...
Squeezed out pieces as promised for Nebula and Kyle Hollingsworth. Nebula ran today and the Hollingsworth piece is still being looked at (I think....uh, maybe I should check) by the good folks at Boulder Magazine.
A word about the Airborne Toxic Event - I suppose critics have a can't-resist soft spot for self-confessional neo-shoegazer rock bands that you can dance to, but I have to admit I'm smitten with ATE's debut CD (now over a year old), and surprised that Mikel Jollett, after our phone chat got connection-dropped at about the nine minute mark, actually called me back to finish the interview. The guy likes to talk, isn't reticent about talking music or ATE or critics or not sleeping or phonies (he DOES NOT like the Eels, said I could print that, and don't even ask why I thought to ask him...), and picking through a 30 min-plus interview for a decent story will actually be a bit of a challenge.
If you haven't heard the band's CD...go listen.
A word about the Airborne Toxic Event - I suppose critics have a can't-resist soft spot for self-confessional neo-shoegazer rock bands that you can dance to, but I have to admit I'm smitten with ATE's debut CD (now over a year old), and surprised that Mikel Jollett, after our phone chat got connection-dropped at about the nine minute mark, actually called me back to finish the interview. The guy likes to talk, isn't reticent about talking music or ATE or critics or not sleeping or phonies (he DOES NOT like the Eels, said I could print that, and don't even ask why I thought to ask him...), and picking through a 30 min-plus interview for a decent story will actually be a bit of a challenge.
If you haven't heard the band's CD...go listen.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Fallen woman
So, it appears that that the trustee overseeing the liquidation of Bernie Madoff's estate (which was, technically, comprised of pieces of his clients' estates) has now gone after Madoff's wife Ruth for $45 million bucks, money he says was spent on a "life of splendor".
I have to confess, I find Ruth's song much more compelling than Bernie's. The guy was a conman and a swindler, an Upper East Side thief, liar and consort to the hyper-wealthy. He ripped off a bunch of rich people so he could be a rich person, and the regulatory coddling that (especially) Bush's administration laid on the super rich allowed him a fairly lengthy career at enjoying other people's money.
At the of appearing Marxist (which is what you get called these days when you question what value the super rich bestow to the society at large...), it's hard for me to feel too sorry for all of Madoff's victims, as I assume at least some of the wealth he squandered was probably inherited, stolen, chiseled, swindled...etc. More streams of nickels floating up from the people who actually work for a living, to the folks who have to hire people to count their fortunes. I'd love to riff on Madoff as a methaphor for what this nation really is...we'll save the plutocrat-harshin' for another time. (I will reserve some moral outrage at the charities that Madoff wiped out - different story altogether.)
But what of Ruth? Lets see...a $7 million penthouse in Manhattan. A nice place in Palm Beach. A little chateau on the French Riviera. At least two yachts. $2.6 million in jewels. All the usual rich-wife stuff. And in a matter of months, her husband is arrested for (and admits to) sheer, unadulterated stealing, to the tune of tens of billions . She is kicked out of her Manhattan penthouse. Her bank accounts (the ones they could find, anyway) are seized. Vacation properties, yachts...confiscated. All over. From being queen, floating atop uncountable frothy millions that seemingly appeared magically and effortlessly, to being nearly homeless, prison-widowed, estranmged from her two sons and probably the most reviled not-incarcerated person New York.
An ethicist pondered back in April what "duty" Ruth had, or may have had, to really understand where her husband's fortune came from...to reconcile her susupicions, if she had any, to her generous and seemingly unrestrained enjoyment of vast sums of money that Bernie seemed to make without actually doing anything. And what responsibility, if any, to make it right for the people her husband stole from. Seeing her suffer this fall may have to be enough for her victims, since you can't undrink fine wine, un-tip French waiters...un-live-it-up.
Personally, I'm okay being small enough to savor her crash and burn, the furrowed and shell-shocked expressions captured in NY newspaper photos. Anger, decompression, shock (yeah, right), righteous rage...."how can they take it all away??? "
One wonders how many other hyper-wealthy financial player couple are out there, similarly marinating in years' worth of entitlement, never wondering what the laid-off, uninsured, un- or under-employed moms and dads out there were doing, but merely pefecting the fine art of opulence, racing toward the finish line in a car whose license plates may not ever be spotted by someone looking out for thieves, conmen, economic vampires...the money changers and their companions, partners in fine living. Madoff got caught. How many of these cynical leeches (Dick Fuld, are you listening?) are doing it legally?
And what of what their wives? None of whom have done a goddamned thing to live like that....not even having had the ingenuity to steal .
How many will escape the plummet to earth that Ruthie Madoff did, but drift off instead on the gossamer wings of entitlement's guardian angels?
I have to confess, I find Ruth's song much more compelling than Bernie's. The guy was a conman and a swindler, an Upper East Side thief, liar and consort to the hyper-wealthy. He ripped off a bunch of rich people so he could be a rich person, and the regulatory coddling that (especially) Bush's administration laid on the super rich allowed him a fairly lengthy career at enjoying other people's money.
At the of appearing Marxist (which is what you get called these days when you question what value the super rich bestow to the society at large...), it's hard for me to feel too sorry for all of Madoff's victims, as I assume at least some of the wealth he squandered was probably inherited, stolen, chiseled, swindled...etc. More streams of nickels floating up from the people who actually work for a living, to the folks who have to hire people to count their fortunes. I'd love to riff on Madoff as a methaphor for what this nation really is...we'll save the plutocrat-harshin' for another time. (I will reserve some moral outrage at the charities that Madoff wiped out - different story altogether.)
But what of Ruth? Lets see...a $7 million penthouse in Manhattan. A nice place in Palm Beach. A little chateau on the French Riviera. At least two yachts. $2.6 million in jewels. All the usual rich-wife stuff. And in a matter of months, her husband is arrested for (and admits to) sheer, unadulterated stealing, to the tune of tens of billions . She is kicked out of her Manhattan penthouse. Her bank accounts (the ones they could find, anyway) are seized. Vacation properties, yachts...confiscated. All over. From being queen, floating atop uncountable frothy millions that seemingly appeared magically and effortlessly, to being nearly homeless, prison-widowed, estranmged from her two sons and probably the most reviled not-incarcerated person New York.
An ethicist pondered back in April what "duty" Ruth had, or may have had, to really understand where her husband's fortune came from...to reconcile her susupicions, if she had any, to her generous and seemingly unrestrained enjoyment of vast sums of money that Bernie seemed to make without actually doing anything. And what responsibility, if any, to make it right for the people her husband stole from. Seeing her suffer this fall may have to be enough for her victims, since you can't undrink fine wine, un-tip French waiters...un-live-it-up.
Personally, I'm okay being small enough to savor her crash and burn, the furrowed and shell-shocked expressions captured in NY newspaper photos. Anger, decompression, shock (yeah, right), righteous rage...."how can they take it all away??? "
One wonders how many other hyper-wealthy financial player couple are out there, similarly marinating in years' worth of entitlement, never wondering what the laid-off, uninsured, un- or under-employed moms and dads out there were doing, but merely pefecting the fine art of opulence, racing toward the finish line in a car whose license plates may not ever be spotted by someone looking out for thieves, conmen, economic vampires...the money changers and their companions, partners in fine living. Madoff got caught. How many of these cynical leeches (Dick Fuld, are you listening?) are doing it legally?
And what of what their wives? None of whom have done a goddamned thing to live like that....not even having had the ingenuity to steal .
How many will escape the plummet to earth that Ruthie Madoff did, but drift off instead on the gossamer wings of entitlement's guardian angels?
Monday, July 27, 2009
Upcoming
Busy next couple of weeks. Interviewing Kyle Hollingsworth, keyboardist for the mostly-retired String Cheese Incident, one of Boulder's premiere jamgrass outfits, tomorrow for a piece in the Fall edition of Boulder Magazine.
Then a piece on Nebula, fuzz-psych band from LA. Airborne Toxic Event next week, as well as a hoped-for phoner with guitarist legend Larry Carlton soon.
Los Lobos brings its endless road show to Chautauqua late in Aug - unknown if the paper will run a story on them. And Buckethead returns to the Fox - hope to catch that.
Then a piece on Nebula, fuzz-psych band from LA. Airborne Toxic Event next week, as well as a hoped-for phoner with guitarist legend Larry Carlton soon.
Los Lobos brings its endless road show to Chautauqua late in Aug - unknown if the paper will run a story on them. And Buckethead returns to the Fox - hope to catch that.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Summer in Lakewood
Nice visit to see the Rodemann clan this week - I am working most all day, spending evenings with Sharon's kids and related tribal members. Weather's been nice - not too muggy, unusual for July in the Cleveland area.
The drive out was long, as always - we caught a nice cemetery by chance when we stopped in Adair, IA. Old farming community cemetery, beautifully maintained and framed by a large windfarm to the south and east.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Michael Jackson's ghost?
Interesting video, I find it difficult to write off, but pretty long shot from convincing.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Jerry Joseph
Got Jerry Joseph today - one of the Boulder historic music scene's most famously neglected anti-heroes, Joseph graduated from party-fun-hippy-reggae band frontguy to a lethally affecting songwriter and jack of all trades, lurking as the resident Elvis Costello-via-Tom Waits songwriter sidekick to the jam scene (famously associated with tireless promotion of Widespread Panic back in the late 80's), and now fronting The Jackmormons (his day gig for the better part of a decade) and playing Stockholm Syndrome, a kind of jam supergroup made up of Panic and Gov't Mule members.
He brings both bands to Boulder for gigs late next week - interview went reasonably well, he's always good for wry observations on loads of subjects, although his cell signal kept blinking in and out, so patching together a story may be a challenge.
Worth mentioning - his latest EP, "Charge" recorded with his NYC songwriter/dobroist buddy Bret Mosely is a serious treat, and even features an oddly consonant cover of Modest Mouse's "Missed The Boat"
He brings both bands to Boulder for gigs late next week - interview went reasonably well, he's always good for wry observations on loads of subjects, although his cell signal kept blinking in and out, so patching together a story may be a challenge.
Worth mentioning - his latest EP, "Charge" recorded with his NYC songwriter/dobroist buddy Bret Mosely is a serious treat, and even features an oddly consonant cover of Modest Mouse's "Missed The Boat"
Shame on me
...for slacking off the blog thing.
No, I didn't join the Twitter thing.
No, I wasn't in mourning over Michael.
Just distracted.
No, I didn't join the Twitter thing.
No, I wasn't in mourning over Michael.
Just distracted.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
NOW is the drought over???
They're saying that Denver may hit the wettest June on record, and the reservoirs are at spillover capacity.
The rafting has been phenomenal, but what's even more encouraging is that may, just maybe, the dought that has plagued the Colorado high country since 1999, and which was at its worst in 2002, may be officially over. At least for now.
The terrible pine beetle blight that has ravaged north central Colorado pine forests was accelerated by the drought, which weakened mature trees and left them easy pickings for the bugs. What the heavy moisture will do in the mid to long term is, unfortunately, anyone's guess.
The spruce beetle blight mentioned in the piece linked above, also has some people worried.
The rafting has been phenomenal, but what's even more encouraging is that may, just maybe, the dought that has plagued the Colorado high country since 1999, and which was at its worst in 2002, may be officially over. At least for now.
The terrible pine beetle blight that has ravaged north central Colorado pine forests was accelerated by the drought, which weakened mature trees and left them easy pickings for the bugs. What the heavy moisture will do in the mid to long term is, unfortunately, anyone's guess.
The spruce beetle blight mentioned in the piece linked above, also has some people worried.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Michael Jackson, RIP
I'd be remiss if, as one of millions of anonymous bloggers, I didn't mark the passing of Michael Jackson yesterday, from sudden cardiac arrest.
Put simply, my views: Jackson revived a music business that was struggling in the early eighties, but only a) delayed its demise, to b) insure its next decline would be permanent. Jackson's stature, ratcheted up by his various promotion machines, set a precedent for hugely over-paid entertainers - costumed, big dollar economic salvation machines - that contributed as much to the collapse of the music business as its own myopic tribulations with file-sharing and media evolution. Jackson's talent may have warranted his media-hugeness, but isn't that quotient that's impossible, really, to assess.
Looking at all the footage the media spewed forth last night, it occurred to me what a genuinely sad spectacle Jackson had become - immensely talented, but utterly and freakishly alien to the world that the rest of us live in. Weird, implausible, dysfunctional marriages...serial plastic surgery...costume intrigue...that weird kid thing....child abuse trial appearences in pajamas....or even the fact, weird itself, that he was the richest entertainer on the planet (including Sir Paul) in 1985, and died yesterday $400 million in debt.
Did he spend it all trying to buy the normalcy his dancing and singing lifted so many of us past?
Tragic for losing his life, whatever it was, so early, but his real contribution to the culture, in my view, pales beside that of James Brown, Elvis, Dylan and Louis Armstrong. He may be in that pantheon, but not at the top. He benefitted a great deal from those who came behind - and those who followed took little from Jackson that wasn't directly resultant from his own, unsharable talent.
RIP Michael. Here's hoping you find a place in heaven you never found here on earth.
Put simply, my views: Jackson revived a music business that was struggling in the early eighties, but only a) delayed its demise, to b) insure its next decline would be permanent. Jackson's stature, ratcheted up by his various promotion machines, set a precedent for hugely over-paid entertainers - costumed, big dollar economic salvation machines - that contributed as much to the collapse of the music business as its own myopic tribulations with file-sharing and media evolution. Jackson's talent may have warranted his media-hugeness, but isn't that quotient that's impossible, really, to assess.
Looking at all the footage the media spewed forth last night, it occurred to me what a genuinely sad spectacle Jackson had become - immensely talented, but utterly and freakishly alien to the world that the rest of us live in. Weird, implausible, dysfunctional marriages...serial plastic surgery...costume intrigue...that weird kid thing....child abuse trial appearences in pajamas....or even the fact, weird itself, that he was the richest entertainer on the planet (including Sir Paul) in 1985, and died yesterday $400 million in debt.
Did he spend it all trying to buy the normalcy his dancing and singing lifted so many of us past?
Tragic for losing his life, whatever it was, so early, but his real contribution to the culture, in my view, pales beside that of James Brown, Elvis, Dylan and Louis Armstrong. He may be in that pantheon, but not at the top. He benefitted a great deal from those who came behind - and those who followed took little from Jackson that wasn't directly resultant from his own, unsharable talent.
RIP Michael. Here's hoping you find a place in heaven you never found here on earth.
Desolation Canyon, reborn with an attitude
There's been a thread at the whitewater rafting internet forum Mountain Buzz for several weeks now, brimming with tales of rafters' first experiences with Joe Hutch Canyon Rapid, after a massive flash flood in Aug 2008 turned a splashy and straightforward Class II drop into a long, gnarly, technical, boat-flipping challenge, worthy of Class IV designation and, by at least one account, fully eligible for comparison to the keester-kicking Class IV's of the Grand Canyon.
Based on sheer guessing, there have probably been more flips (rafts, anyway) at this rapid in the last four weeks than the entire river has seen in years. It is now a full grade harder now, maybe more than a full grade, than anything else on the 84 mile run.
Deso, of course, was my old stomping ground with Karin - we ran the river together 11 or 12 times between 1992 and 2003, twice in 1999 alone. Neither of us were Class IV junkies, although we had done water at that level several times safely (Brown's Canyon, Main Salmon, Westwater), and my thoughts about the run now are tangled and unsettled.
I genuinely love the place - the vibe, the pace, the huge canyon expanse...and the whitewater, which for me was never more than I could really handle, and usually less than my rattle-prone sensibilities would stress over. We probably burned more worry calories over campsite competition and fretting about upstream winds than we ever did over the whitewater, and even now, a year and a half removed from my last trip down there, I can still describe the line at all the major rapids. It is unquestionably part of my history, a very significant vestige of my life with Karin, and a deep engraving upon my river-running DNA.
But this...wtf is this? The river is now essentially a III- run with a IV - IV+ rapid, just past dead-center of the trip.
Does it make me more excited to go back...or less? True enough, the stories I'm reading now are accounts of the rapid at 12-16K cfs, a level we never ran it at. What's it like at 2500 or 3000? Even 4000 - no rapid I could think of could flip my dunnaged boat by waves alone at 4000cfs.
And another piece of this is that fact that Sharon prefers (truly loves, in fact) the San Juan - a mellow, decidedly river-easier trip. And would be more than happy not to repeat our Sept 2007 Deso trip, which was troubled by weather issues and left her on the downhill side of ambivilent about the place.
We have no long river trips planned for the remainder of 2009, so at this point I'm just watching the thread, taking it in, accepting reluctantly the fact that the trip that Karin and I did so much is...changed, at least, and forever gone, at most.
Things change by degrees, this is changing by degrees. I cannot wrap my mind around the idea that I'll never go back there. But that may, in fact, be the case.
I just don't know.
Based on sheer guessing, there have probably been more flips (rafts, anyway) at this rapid in the last four weeks than the entire river has seen in years. It is now a full grade harder now, maybe more than a full grade, than anything else on the 84 mile run.
Deso, of course, was my old stomping ground with Karin - we ran the river together 11 or 12 times between 1992 and 2003, twice in 1999 alone. Neither of us were Class IV junkies, although we had done water at that level several times safely (Brown's Canyon, Main Salmon, Westwater), and my thoughts about the run now are tangled and unsettled.
I genuinely love the place - the vibe, the pace, the huge canyon expanse...and the whitewater, which for me was never more than I could really handle, and usually less than my rattle-prone sensibilities would stress over. We probably burned more worry calories over campsite competition and fretting about upstream winds than we ever did over the whitewater, and even now, a year and a half removed from my last trip down there, I can still describe the line at all the major rapids. It is unquestionably part of my history, a very significant vestige of my life with Karin, and a deep engraving upon my river-running DNA.
But this...wtf is this? The river is now essentially a III- run with a IV - IV+ rapid, just past dead-center of the trip.
Does it make me more excited to go back...or less? True enough, the stories I'm reading now are accounts of the rapid at 12-16K cfs, a level we never ran it at. What's it like at 2500 or 3000? Even 4000 - no rapid I could think of could flip my dunnaged boat by waves alone at 4000cfs.
And another piece of this is that fact that Sharon prefers (truly loves, in fact) the San Juan - a mellow, decidedly river-easier trip. And would be more than happy not to repeat our Sept 2007 Deso trip, which was troubled by weather issues and left her on the downhill side of ambivilent about the place.
We have no long river trips planned for the remainder of 2009, so at this point I'm just watching the thread, taking it in, accepting reluctantly the fact that the trip that Karin and I did so much is...changed, at least, and forever gone, at most.
Things change by degrees, this is changing by degrees. I cannot wrap my mind around the idea that I'll never go back there. But that may, in fact, be the case.
I just don't know.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Tehran spring
Iran's demographics are finally spinning away from the rote anti-Israel, anti-West, 'Great Satan' nonsense that have dominated the Iranian political mainstream since the Shah fell. Is Iran witnessing their own version of the Prague spring?
For the sake of the people there, one can only hope so.
For the sake of the people there, one can only hope so.
Dreams of the gone-before
Lengthy dream about Karin on Friday night, first in a few months, and longest in quite some time. She appeared to be in the company of others, but acknowledged me.
Then last night had another dream about her - shorter, centered around rafting - and another separate dream featuring Sharon's late husband Don. I would say his general demeanor toward me was grudging acceptance. I did tell him, to his face, that I thought he got a raw deal (dying young from cancer), and he seemed to appreciate that.
Odd - that I'd have two dreams of Karin on subsequent nights, and especially odd that I have a long and very detailed one about Don. Three years ago I would have struggled to mine this for significance - now, I'm reluctant to ascribe any to it, although do find it interesting.
Then last night had another dream about her - shorter, centered around rafting - and another separate dream featuring Sharon's late husband Don. I would say his general demeanor toward me was grudging acceptance. I did tell him, to his face, that I thought he got a raw deal (dying young from cancer), and he seemed to appreciate that.
Odd - that I'd have two dreams of Karin on subsequent nights, and especially odd that I have a long and very detailed one about Don. Three years ago I would have struggled to mine this for significance - now, I'm reluctant to ascribe any to it, although do find it interesting.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Roaring Fork
Nice day yesterday on the Roaring Fork, about 4400cfs, weather warm and breeze going downstream. A bit too fast for the six hours of driving it takes to do this run (ramp to ramp, 2 hours on the nose), but Cemetery was huge. First time in a wetsuit in how long?
Caught a bald eagle and its mate. So-so pic, always better in person. Clicking on the image for full-size helps a bit.
Scum
In my decidedly biased heirarchy of humanity, collection agencies lay somewhere between cannibals and child molesters, so it has been something of a trial that I have been receiving collection phone calls from Gap Visa for someone I've never heard of, on my cell phone.
This morning, I practically lost it with yet another Indian call center drone, telling them that I better not get another call from them in pursuit of their delinquint customer. Only to get another call not ten minutes later.
I intend to file a grievance with the State Attorney General's office if this keeps up.
This morning, I practically lost it with yet another Indian call center drone, telling them that I better not get another call from them in pursuit of their delinquint customer. Only to get another call not ten minutes later.
I intend to file a grievance with the State Attorney General's office if this keeps up.
Ozrics back in shape
Leaned over and remarked to the obvious Ozric Tentacles fan at the Fox show Friday night that it was pretty weird that the band - born and bred from the British Stonehenge/tie-dye hippy underculture a quarter century ago - was now a local band, having moved to the Fort Collins area last year. Friday was my third Ozrics show in about a year - they used to be the Band From Mars, sweeping in on bubbly synth flourishes once every three years or so.
But it does appear that they have scraped together a decent local following.
And sounding better as well - Ed's son Silas is filling in on synth for about half the set, and doing an outstanding job. I'd still like to hear Brandi loosen up a little on bass, but the band sounded much more together (despite a lengthy tech failure on Ed's rig) than last show, in the Fall.
Mooncalf, from the new album, was resplendent.
But it does appear that they have scraped together a decent local following.
And sounding better as well - Ed's son Silas is filling in on synth for about half the set, and doing an outstanding job. I'd still like to hear Brandi loosen up a little on bass, but the band sounded much more together (despite a lengthy tech failure on Ed's rig) than last show, in the Fall.
Mooncalf, from the new album, was resplendent.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Five years
Milestone, huh?
Unbroken road, broken and rebuilt...leading to the same place, but different.
Just trying to do the Walk of Life, Bear. Please stop in and say hello.
Medvědi navěky věkův.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Back from San Juan trip
A nice week down the San Juan river - we'll post some pictures in a day or two, after the swell of missed work abates somewhat.
Rainy Memorial Day weekend here in Boulder, getting ready to re-immerse into not-laid-off-yet land.
Rainy Memorial Day weekend here in Boulder, getting ready to re-immerse into not-laid-off-yet land.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Disco Biscuits and the real meaning of Dead
Got off an interview not long ago with Jon Gutwillig, guitarist for the Philly-based Disco Biscuits. They're doing an extravaganza show at Red Rocks in a couple of weeks and I interviewed him for a preview piece for next week's paper.
We touched on a great number of subjects - he's an energetic interview - but one thing stood out for me. We spent some time discussing the Dead - as a player in his early thirties, Gutwillig has a certain perception of the Grateful Dead, as the archetypal founding agent of the current jamband scene.
Which is fair, but in the context of what we were discussing, I found it an intriguingly incomplete view. True enough, the Dead went off on unashamedly self-indulgent jams, sometimes inspired and sometimes (to these ears) labored and tedious. Gutwillig credits their iconic status to this very thing, a fearlessness about treading the outer perimeter of the musical back 40 - my view is that the Dead had a solid base of songwriting, deeply rooted in folk, proto-Americana, blues and jugband, that provided a deep and detailed framework for their instrumental excursions, and for me, their jams lost usually their charm the further from the musical substance of those songs they wandered. They were a songwriter's band long before, and in some ways more profoundly, than they were a jamband.
And most of the younger jambands who followed in their footsteps in the 90's did not have that passion for songs, and thus, for old farts like me, are merely competent icing-lickers by comparison.
We touched on a great number of subjects - he's an energetic interview - but one thing stood out for me. We spent some time discussing the Dead - as a player in his early thirties, Gutwillig has a certain perception of the Grateful Dead, as the archetypal founding agent of the current jamband scene.
Which is fair, but in the context of what we were discussing, I found it an intriguingly incomplete view. True enough, the Dead went off on unashamedly self-indulgent jams, sometimes inspired and sometimes (to these ears) labored and tedious. Gutwillig credits their iconic status to this very thing, a fearlessness about treading the outer perimeter of the musical back 40 - my view is that the Dead had a solid base of songwriting, deeply rooted in folk, proto-Americana, blues and jugband, that provided a deep and detailed framework for their instrumental excursions, and for me, their jams lost usually their charm the further from the musical substance of those songs they wandered. They were a songwriter's band long before, and in some ways more profoundly, than they were a jamband.
And most of the younger jambands who followed in their footsteps in the 90's did not have that passion for songs, and thus, for old farts like me, are merely competent icing-lickers by comparison.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day, Mom
First Mother's Day since my Mom passed in February.
You're not forgotten, Mom.
You're not forgotten, Mom.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Roach, Schulze and being a critic off the clock
I was quite pleased to see a little white box from the USPS waiting for me when I returned from work yesterday - my two new CD's from Steve Roach, Arc of Passion and Landmass. Roach is one of the most prolific and, to my mind, perhaps the most consistently satisfying of contemporary ambient/electronic composers, and as I write this I'm thoroughly enjoying Landmass.
After many years writing about music, I do find that I am gradually losing the nagging sense - guilt, maybe - that my tastes aren't broad enough and my knowledge of music isn't deep enough. The latter, in fact, I've settled up with long ago. I've never claimed, to editors or readers or peers, that I'm a genuine musicologist, with an encyclopedic fluency is broad swatches of genre or chronology. I have too much admiration for the real musicologists, and too reaslistic appraisal of my own contributions. I do know a thing or two (and forgotten much along the way), but my writing is far more based on artist perceptions of their own work, how they place it in context, how they struggle with recording and performing, and my own critical ear turned toward what they do. Living in the now, covering the now, with ears tuned by many years of listening to many things, I think, allows me to do what I do without the baggage and elitism that can easily arise from a true musicologist's field of view.
That may sound like a long apology for being a chump change music writer, but after thirty years, I'm really not inclined to apologize for much.
Having said all that, it's a strangely satisfying experience to simply buy a couple of CD's from an artist I'll almost certainly never cover in a newspaper column, listen and enjoy, and present it to my own aesthetic inclinations without having to present it to a generalized readership. In a sense, it has little to do with what I do in front of a computer every week, and I'm okay with that. More than okay. I know that when I retire from this freelance thing, I can just go back to being a consumer of music. And thankfully, I know what I like.
I also noted that Roach's homepage included a blurb about a recently published book about Klaus Schulze . Schulze was one of those artists that utterly captivated me in the 70's - extended, cerebral electronic meditations, spacey and evocative - and I have a couple of my recently rescued vinyl LP's poised by my USB turntable for conversion to iPoditry.
But interestingly, and perhaps consistent with what I noted above, my experiment in merging my fascination and appreciation for the electronic music pioneer and my writing work was a profoundly unsatisfying experience.
About ten years ago, when I was freelancing for an online music review website, I contacted Schulze to see if he'd be interested in doing an email interview. His manager, Klaus Mueller, responded enthusiastically, so I prepared (hurriedly, which was my first mistake) about 20 questions and sent them off. Schulze works on a Mac, or he did, so the responses I got a few days later were a bit garbled (in those days, text and email formats didn't always play nice between platforms), and perhaps more frustratingly, a few responses were somewhat curt, almost churlish, and frankly, the whole interview scented of patience tested.
My second mistake was noting in a thank you note to Mueller, that I thought a few answers were a little ...condensed....and that (look out) "maybe something was lost in translation." Schulze, of course, is German.
Mueller (aka 'KDM') then proceeded to uncork a load of vitriolic whoopass on me, accusing me of being stupid and ignorant, impolite, rude, disingenuous, phony, a hack writer and (the lowest blow?) of being "from California". Nothing I could say in reply seemed to calm his electrified rage at me, and although I made several attempts to apologize for any misunderstanding, he wouldn't have any of it and concluded this extremely and needlessly nasty exchange with "don't bother us anymore..."
Sorry - all I was trying to do was promote your artist and highlight his long and groundbreaking career. Any wonder why Schulze is virtually unknown in America?
I sent the piece in, they ran it (my editor said he thought it was a decent piece), and I was contacted some months later by Eurock founder and proprietor Archie Patterson , who asked if he could include a thankfully abridged version on a promotional CD he was putting together. Archie has been a staunch, longtime supporter and knowledgeable writer and online importer/vendor of Euro-prog and electronic music, and I would take a moment to encourage anyone interested in this music to visit his website.
In the process of negotiating the interview transfer, I asked Patterson, basically, wtf ??? He knew Mueller pretty well, and he text-chuckled a bit, and informed me that Mueller really dislikes Americans, and Californians especially, and not to take it all too seriously. It was modest reassurance for me, but the whole cluster frankly damaged my estimation of Schulze and his 'organization' beyond repair.
(I would also contrast this with two phone interviews I did with Tangerine Dream founder Edgar Froese, one in the mid 80's and one in the mid 90's, that were engaging, informative and vigorously polite.)
I would rather doubt that any portion of the interview I did with Schulze, although it still exists out in cyberspace somewhere, made its way into this book, but it occurs to me that had I not had this experience, I might be interested in actually picking this up and reading it. But someone else can do that. Schulze's contribution can reside between the grooves of X and Moondawn and Timewind, and while I'd be the first to give him his due in the lengthening history of electronic music, I have little interest in spending any money researching his history and applauding his stature. Perhaps a musicologist would.
In the meantime, Roach's thoughtful, gorgeously crafted mile-deep tonal excursions will do just fine.
After many years writing about music, I do find that I am gradually losing the nagging sense - guilt, maybe - that my tastes aren't broad enough and my knowledge of music isn't deep enough. The latter, in fact, I've settled up with long ago. I've never claimed, to editors or readers or peers, that I'm a genuine musicologist, with an encyclopedic fluency is broad swatches of genre or chronology. I have too much admiration for the real musicologists, and too reaslistic appraisal of my own contributions. I do know a thing or two (and forgotten much along the way), but my writing is far more based on artist perceptions of their own work, how they place it in context, how they struggle with recording and performing, and my own critical ear turned toward what they do. Living in the now, covering the now, with ears tuned by many years of listening to many things, I think, allows me to do what I do without the baggage and elitism that can easily arise from a true musicologist's field of view.
That may sound like a long apology for being a chump change music writer, but after thirty years, I'm really not inclined to apologize for much.
Having said all that, it's a strangely satisfying experience to simply buy a couple of CD's from an artist I'll almost certainly never cover in a newspaper column, listen and enjoy, and present it to my own aesthetic inclinations without having to present it to a generalized readership. In a sense, it has little to do with what I do in front of a computer every week, and I'm okay with that. More than okay. I know that when I retire from this freelance thing, I can just go back to being a consumer of music. And thankfully, I know what I like.
I also noted that Roach's homepage included a blurb about a recently published book about Klaus Schulze . Schulze was one of those artists that utterly captivated me in the 70's - extended, cerebral electronic meditations, spacey and evocative - and I have a couple of my recently rescued vinyl LP's poised by my USB turntable for conversion to iPoditry.
But interestingly, and perhaps consistent with what I noted above, my experiment in merging my fascination and appreciation for the electronic music pioneer and my writing work was a profoundly unsatisfying experience.
About ten years ago, when I was freelancing for an online music review website, I contacted Schulze to see if he'd be interested in doing an email interview. His manager, Klaus Mueller, responded enthusiastically, so I prepared (hurriedly, which was my first mistake) about 20 questions and sent them off. Schulze works on a Mac, or he did, so the responses I got a few days later were a bit garbled (in those days, text and email formats didn't always play nice between platforms), and perhaps more frustratingly, a few responses were somewhat curt, almost churlish, and frankly, the whole interview scented of patience tested.
My second mistake was noting in a thank you note to Mueller, that I thought a few answers were a little ...condensed....and that (look out) "maybe something was lost in translation." Schulze, of course, is German.
Mueller (aka 'KDM') then proceeded to uncork a load of vitriolic whoopass on me, accusing me of being stupid and ignorant, impolite, rude, disingenuous, phony, a hack writer and (the lowest blow?) of being "from California". Nothing I could say in reply seemed to calm his electrified rage at me, and although I made several attempts to apologize for any misunderstanding, he wouldn't have any of it and concluded this extremely and needlessly nasty exchange with "don't bother us anymore..."
Sorry - all I was trying to do was promote your artist and highlight his long and groundbreaking career. Any wonder why Schulze is virtually unknown in America?
I sent the piece in, they ran it (my editor said he thought it was a decent piece), and I was contacted some months later by Eurock founder and proprietor Archie Patterson , who asked if he could include a thankfully abridged version on a promotional CD he was putting together. Archie has been a staunch, longtime supporter and knowledgeable writer and online importer/vendor of Euro-prog and electronic music, and I would take a moment to encourage anyone interested in this music to visit his website.
In the process of negotiating the interview transfer, I asked Patterson, basically, wtf ??? He knew Mueller pretty well, and he text-chuckled a bit, and informed me that Mueller really dislikes Americans, and Californians especially, and not to take it all too seriously. It was modest reassurance for me, but the whole cluster frankly damaged my estimation of Schulze and his 'organization' beyond repair.
(I would also contrast this with two phone interviews I did with Tangerine Dream founder Edgar Froese, one in the mid 80's and one in the mid 90's, that were engaging, informative and vigorously polite.)
I would rather doubt that any portion of the interview I did with Schulze, although it still exists out in cyberspace somewhere, made its way into this book, but it occurs to me that had I not had this experience, I might be interested in actually picking this up and reading it. But someone else can do that. Schulze's contribution can reside between the grooves of X and Moondawn and Timewind, and while I'd be the first to give him his due in the lengthening history of electronic music, I have little interest in spending any money researching his history and applauding his stature. Perhaps a musicologist would.
In the meantime, Roach's thoughtful, gorgeously crafted mile-deep tonal excursions will do just fine.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Best song title ever
Chilling out to Drone Zone this afternoon - a beautiful, ethereal piece by a guy named Tom Vedvik came on, called "Clocks Don't Bring Tomorrow".
Titling ambient pieces is definitely an artform unto itself.
Titling ambient pieces is definitely an artform unto itself.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Other Lives
We wanted to cover these guys when they swang through the area a few months back, but timing and space didn't permit, so were grateful that they booked a show at the B-Side Lounge for next week. Did a short, energized interview with lead singer Jesse Tabish, and story will be out on Thursday (we're working on it right after some overdue blogging hereabouts.)
Gorgeous stuff - poised, almost elegaic folk-rock, dressed in cello and lots of acoustic piano, wrapped in the kind of melancholy gray you'd find on the front stoop of an abandoned prairie farmhouse. I have no illusions they'll be huge, and I'm not sure they should be, but they are well worth a listen.
Gorgeous stuff - poised, almost elegaic folk-rock, dressed in cello and lots of acoustic piano, wrapped in the kind of melancholy gray you'd find on the front stoop of an abandoned prairie farmhouse. I have no illusions they'll be huge, and I'm not sure they should be, but they are well worth a listen.
Skis season done
At the risk of repeating ourselves, ski season has finally closed...at least for me, as the time is now 4:02PM Sunday, and Loveland just roped off the lifts. See ya in November, guys.
No problem - we just hauled about 4000lbs of sod back from Home Depot, and we're a-gonna make a yard.
No problem - we just hauled about 4000lbs of sod back from Home Depot, and we're a-gonna make a yard.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Loveland Days 15 and 16 - season coda
Last Sunday was day 15, a day or two after a sizable April snowstorm, and the snow was a bit weird - even the groomed stuff was lumpy and cantankerous, the off-piste was sticky and wet. Beautiful day, very warm, classic spring skiing conditions, but something of a workout.
And crowded - first time in 20 seasons I was relegated to the furthest lot, Lot 4 in the Valley - waited 45 minutes for a shuttle. Only managed 17 runs all day (9/8), but a nice day nonetheless.
Yesterday was a bit weird also - the temperature hovered right around 32F, so the spring slop varied between soft and pliant to hard and crunchy, sometimes in the space of a few minutes. Never really learned how to ski that stuff, but still managed 22 (14/8) runs, stayed right side up, and said goodbye for the year. The San Juan trip approaches and we have trip planning and some house stuff.
Stopped at The Spot on the right side of Turtle Creek, had a word or two with Karin. Kind of a ritual.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
What's the blob?
Ok, so what's up with this?
Cosmological anomalies.
Those who speculate on such things suggest that the lives we live, during the epoch through we live them, are actually chosen by us in that between-corporeal lives state when we reflect on the last life's lessons, etc etc.
Whenever I hear about stuff like this, I always wonder if I've chosen this epoch in this corner of the universe, so I can live through the experience of learning about stuff like this and finding out what exactly it is.
Which is a nice thought, but realistically, I have to imagine it's unlikely that I ever will learn what this is, in this life.
WASHINGTON - A strange giant space “blob” spotted when the universe was relatively young has got astronomers puzzled.
Using space and ground telescopes, astronomers looked back to when the universe was only 800 million years old and found something that was out of proportion and out of time. It was gaseous, big, and emitted a certain type of radiation, said study lead author Masami Ouchi, an astronomer at the Carnegie Observatories in Pasadena, Calif.
Scientists don’t even know what to call it. So they just called it a radiation-emitting “blob.”
Cosmological anomalies.
Those who speculate on such things suggest that the lives we live, during the epoch through we live them, are actually chosen by us in that between-corporeal lives state when we reflect on the last life's lessons, etc etc.
Whenever I hear about stuff like this, I always wonder if I've chosen this epoch in this corner of the universe, so I can live through the experience of learning about stuff like this and finding out what exactly it is.
Which is a nice thought, but realistically, I have to imagine it's unlikely that I ever will learn what this is, in this life.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Spring snowstorm
...delivered a soggy wallop to much of the state, avalanches and power outages and traffic snarls, but we only got 4 or 5 inches here at the house, quickly slushed down by the rain today.
Anticipating a day of skiing in ungroomed glue tomorrow. One or two more ski days, and it'll be time to get out the raft.
We've been watching the San Juan drainage down south, since it'll largely dictate our launch day flow on 5/17. Improved - 94% as of today, but it's supposed to get real warm, real quickly. Maybe good, maybe...eh.
I've been handicapping springtime runoff so long I've forgotten what it's like not to care.
Anticipating a day of skiing in ungroomed glue tomorrow. One or two more ski days, and it'll be time to get out the raft.
We've been watching the San Juan drainage down south, since it'll largely dictate our launch day flow on 5/17. Improved - 94% as of today, but it's supposed to get real warm, real quickly. Maybe good, maybe...eh.
I've been handicapping springtime runoff so long I've forgotten what it's like not to care.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Together...forever
Saw this...
This isn't all that unusual, and for anyone who's been through the experience of losing a spouse, this kind of story resonates with poingnat familiarity.
TROY, Kan. - Residents of a northeast Kansas town are mourning the deaths just hours apart of an elderly couple who were married 67 years.
Arnita Yingling died in her sleep early Saturday at the family’s home in Troy. She was 93. Six hours later her 95-year-old husband, Lyle, died at a nursing home in the nearby town of Wathena.
At their funeral Wednesday, friends and relatives described the two as inseparable. Some found comfort knowing neither would have to live without the other.
The Yinglings were married in 1941. Both were born on northeast Kansas farms and were active in Troy as members of their church and civic organizations.
This isn't all that unusual, and for anyone who's been through the experience of losing a spouse, this kind of story resonates with poingnat familiarity.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Loveland Day 14
Started out hazy, turned cloudy and by the end of the day (3:30 or so), the snow started falling. Conditions were so-so - a little loose stuff spread over hard packed powder. Not bad, not great - well, any day skiing is a good day, so we'll take it. There are three more weekends - I was shooting for 15 days, but I may make 16. Decent season, after getting caught short last year.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Chairlift rising
Trudging dejectedly along the strip in Vegas last January, worrying about the economy and having my rental pos scratched in the casino hotel parking garage, starting a three day visit for my stepson's wedding, we walked by (at least six times!) a three-story Apple display blaring a loop of Chairlift's "Bruises" ("I tried to do handstands for you, I tried to do handstands for you..."), promoting the new iPod Nano and its high calorie colors, bathing the throngs of grimly fascinated tourists, shifty characters, high roller wannabes and the porncard-snapping hawkers in chirpy, guile-free post-age neopop.
Utterly surreal.
The band itself comes for a sort-of homecoming (they formed, and wrote that song, in Boulder) at the Bluebird next weekend. Just interviewed chief lifter Aaron Pfenning, story next Thursday in BW.
And btw, the album is called "Does You Inspire You", and it's brilliant. Textured morsels of digipop impressionism, retro from a long-ago sci-fi fantasy.
Utterly surreal.
The band itself comes for a sort-of homecoming (they formed, and wrote that song, in Boulder) at the Bluebird next weekend. Just interviewed chief lifter Aaron Pfenning, story next Thursday in BW.
And btw, the album is called "Does You Inspire You", and it's brilliant. Textured morsels of digipop impressionism, retro from a long-ago sci-fi fantasy.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Gives new meaning to
..."last lift".
Sudden loss of a spouse like this is a shocker and no joke - still, it's a reminder that heavy exertion at altitude can deliver some surprises.
FRISCO (AP) - An autopsy will be performed on a Rhode Island man who died on a chairlift while skiing in Breckenridge.
Summit County Coroner Joanne Richardson says 48-year-old Michael Wiggins died at about noon Wednesday on a chairlift on Peak 8 at the Breckenridge Ski Resort.
She says Wiggins lost consciousness while riding the chairlift with his family, and efforts to resuscitate him at the top of the lift were unsuccessful.
Wiggins was an orthopedic surgeon from East Greenwich, R.I. Richardson says he had no significant medical history.
Sudden loss of a spouse like this is a shocker and no joke - still, it's a reminder that heavy exertion at altitude can deliver some surprises.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Loveland Day 13
Call it Winter Part II.
After a couple of weeks of frighteningly warm and dry conditions, the central mountains got a nice two week spell of steady snow - no big dumps, but Loveland's base went from 60" to 85", and the conditions were great. Even better, a smallish storm rolled in midday and dropped 2-4" of freshies all over.
Forgot to lather up and got a little singed in the hazy morning sun, but not bad. Coasting toward a 15 or 16 day season.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Latest ghost investigation
We spent a night at a very cushy lodge resort in Manitou Springs this past weekend, our second investigation there.
A cursory examination of my digital photos and voice recordings hasn't revealed anything, but Sharon did capture at least one very interesting EVP recording, utterly unexplainable. I have not yet been through all my audio, or any of my video (video usually yields nothing anyway.)
I won't presume to be a "sensitive" - in fact, I've been called "thick" by people who know about these things - but I have to be quite honest that I did not feel on either trip anything particularly spooky about this place. Another paranormal group insists the place is crazy haunted, based on the evidence they caught a month or so ago.
Being a very comfortable lodge resort, beautfully maintained and cush to the max, it may be that my own biases are coming into play here (haunted houses are supposed to be creaky, cold, derelict, etc...). I do think that this pursuit is fraught with personal biases all the time - the mere fact that you're there suggests you have some reason to believe some location is haunted, and that predisposition may be based on no more than someone else's belief that it is so, which may be based on yet someone else's belief, etc etc. In this vein, I have often believed that an effective test of so-called sensitives would be to walk them through three house, one of which has reported activity they are not informed of, and the other two with none, and see which one they choose.
But I do insist that, just as belief in the paranormal should as much as possible be based on evidence, a disbelief in the paranormal should at the very least be subjected to a possible encounter with evidence of the contrary...and thus the hunt goes on.
I'll see about uploading Sharon's evidence if I can get an edited version of it.
Weather turns
Big snow in Colorado last week, the Central mountains got a decent helping (Loveland clocked 26" in four days last week). Two more storms this week, and weather in the teens promises a return to decent snow and a reprieve from the squishy early spring we posted about last installement.
Words escape...
IBM has submitted for the second time (and, evidently, withdrawn a second time) a patent on an app that "that calculates how to offshore jobs while maximizing government tax breaks."
This one went somewhat viral (my office mate sent me the link), and in their admirably predictable way, IBM darts back from the glare of negative publicity into the shady recesses of "global strategizing".
Love ya, guys. Every day is FAC in Bangalore.
This one went somewhat viral (my office mate sent me the link), and in their admirably predictable way, IBM darts back from the glare of negative publicity into the shady recesses of "global strategizing".
Love ya, guys. Every day is FAC in Bangalore.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
We made so much money last year, we can't afford you
Yes, four strong quarters in a row, and Big Blue celebrates by putting more of its US workforce out on the street. Only its US workforce. And finding new ways to do it, without paying severence or unemployment.
Palmisano made $21 million last year. Wonder if he's worried about finding health insurance, tanking his mortgage or extending his retirement date.
Welcome to Indian Business Machines.
*edit: This Reuters piece has a little more info.
Palmisano made $21 million last year. Wonder if he's worried about finding health insurance, tanking his mortgage or extending his retirement date.
Welcome to Indian Business Machines.
*edit: This Reuters piece has a little more info.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Loveland Day 12
Fifty degrees most of the day (Sat 3/21), soupy slush at the bottom and a lot of long faces amongst the hardcore regulars about the freakishly warm weather and the prospect of a unnaturally shortened season.
It was even warmer up there today. It was 77 degrees in Boulder - nice for the around-town crowd, but worrisome for skiers who always get a little panicky about how the season will end around this time.
The good news is that a massive storm is gathering up there now, which could drop 8-16" of freshies at Loveland and statewide, lingering for days, and setting up for more storms and colder/wetter weather well into the beginning of April.
Reagan: Upward Socialism
One of the few voices I've heard during this entire financial meltdown that I trust is Ravi Batra, an SMU professor of economics and bestselling author. He predicted this entire house of cards - massive securities instruments bundled upon shaky mortgages, squeezed to generate short-term financial profit for the banks - would fall back in the summer of 2008.
His latest piece in truthout.org examines the legacy of Ronald Reagan, who promoted and signed massive cuts at the top end of income taxation, exploded the deficit and essentially transferred huge amounts of post-tax wealth to the top, while implementing incrementally increasing taxation on the middle class. Here's a quote:
The veil of incompetence and naked preference for the wealthy - which for Reagan constituted his rich Orange County Hollywood pals - is finally being lifted in both this piece and the recently published Will Bunch book on the lies and historic revisionism that have led to Reagan's canonization amongst modern conservatives.
Much of what Reagan did to promote the vampirization of American society will take generations to undo. What we are seeing now is the result of years of making the wealthy wealthier, and unregulated, flag-draped, knee-jerk ideology of sucking the lifeblood out of people who actually work for a living.
The latest entrant in the Ronald Reagan Memorial Rich Guy Benevolence Society is Mitt Romney, a guy who made millions throwing Americans out of work by buying up their companies and offshoring their labor.
His latest piece in truthout.org examines the legacy of Ronald Reagan, who promoted and signed massive cuts at the top end of income taxation, exploded the deficit and essentially transferred huge amounts of post-tax wealth to the top, while implementing incrementally increasing taxation on the middle class. Here's a quote:
Let's go back to the early 1980's. In 1981, Reagan signed a law that sharply reduced the income tax for the wealthiest Americans and corporations. The president asserted his program would create jobs, purge inflation and, get this, trim the budget deficit. However, following the tax cut, the deficit soared from 2.5 percent of GDP to over 6 percent, alarming financial markets, sending interest rates sky high, and culminating in the worst recession since the 1930's.
Soon the president realized he needed new revenues to trim the deficit, bring down interest rates and improve his chances for reelection. He would not rescind the income tax cut, but other taxes were acceptable. In 1982, taxes were raised on gasoline and cigarettes, but the deficit hardly budged. In 1983, the president signed the biggest tax rise on payrolls, promising to create a surplus in the Social Security system, while knowing all along that the new revenue would be used to finance the deficit.
The veil of incompetence and naked preference for the wealthy - which for Reagan constituted his rich Orange County Hollywood pals - is finally being lifted in both this piece and the recently published Will Bunch book on the lies and historic revisionism that have led to Reagan's canonization amongst modern conservatives.
Much of what Reagan did to promote the vampirization of American society will take generations to undo. What we are seeing now is the result of years of making the wealthy wealthier, and unregulated, flag-draped, knee-jerk ideology of sucking the lifeblood out of people who actually work for a living.
The latest entrant in the Ronald Reagan Memorial Rich Guy Benevolence Society is Mitt Romney, a guy who made millions throwing Americans out of work by buying up their companies and offshoring their labor.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Matt Haimovitz
I don't get many opportunities to interview world class cellists, but this guy was great. Haimovitz has almost singlehandedly re-defined his instrument in the 21st century, exploiting its expressiveness and tactile immediacy in the realms of classical, contemporary and even rock. ('Kashmir', for solo cello?)
I mentioned Glenn Gould, a guy from an earlier generation who similarly assaulted the conventions of his musical pedigree, and he talked at length in rapturous admiration.
This may be a challenging piece to write, but definitely a cool interview. Dog still hunts, I guess.
I mentioned Glenn Gould, a guy from an earlier generation who similarly assaulted the conventions of his musical pedigree, and he talked at length in rapturous admiration.
This may be a challenging piece to write, but definitely a cool interview. Dog still hunts, I guess.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Natasha Richardson
I prefer to think of myself as not particularly given to celeb-watching, nor tragedy gawking...but I must admit I've been surprisingly affected by this terrible story of Natasha Richardson. Wife of Liam Neeeson and daughter of Vanessa Redgrave, beautiful woman and talented actress in her own right, she took a fall on a beginner ski slope in Canada yesterday, walked away from the injury only to fall ill a few hours later with what appears at this vantage point to be a lethal subcranial hematoma.
At this point she is in a coma, non-responsive, on life support, and her prognosis is all but certain.
I wish I could say that I can't imagine what her husband is going through, but I do. It is unspeakable, and frankly, it's dredging up a bit of stuff for me.
**edit: Report is that she passed away.
At this point she is in a coma, non-responsive, on life support, and her prognosis is all but certain.
I wish I could say that I can't imagine what her husband is going through, but I do. It is unspeakable, and frankly, it's dredging up a bit of stuff for me.
**edit: Report is that she passed away.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
AIG to pay out millions in 'bonus' cash
The nearly collapsed (if it weren't for billions in taxpayer funds) insurance mega-firm AIG announced last week it was paying out >$400 million in bonus money, to the predictable outrage from the media and Obama administration officials.
In most normal circumstances, bonuses are paid to a) keep quality and high performing employees from jumping ship to other companies, and/or b) reward profitable performance.
In this case, one wonders where these executives would go, since a lot of the competition is out of business, or at least in no position to bid up new labor, and what performance they're being rewarded for.
The sense of shameless entitlement at financial institutions during these days when people are losing their jobs, homes and health insurance is breathtaking. Of course, shame is an emotion most acutely experienced when one looks in the mirror, and everyone knows vampires don't look in mirrors.
In most normal circumstances, bonuses are paid to a) keep quality and high performing employees from jumping ship to other companies, and/or b) reward profitable performance.
In this case, one wonders where these executives would go, since a lot of the competition is out of business, or at least in no position to bid up new labor, and what performance they're being rewarded for.
The sense of shameless entitlement at financial institutions during these days when people are losing their jobs, homes and health insurance is breathtaking. Of course, shame is an emotion most acutely experienced when one looks in the mirror, and everyone knows vampires don't look in mirrors.
Interesting NDE tale
Michael Prescott describes a very interesting Near Death Experience on his outstanding afterlife blog.
This case seems to embody many of the standard elements to the common NDE experience, as well as a few twists that leave one perplexed.
h/t to Daily Grail.
This case seems to embody many of the standard elements to the common NDE experience, as well as a few twists that leave one perplexed.
h/t to Daily Grail.
Loveland Day 11
Outstanding day - one or two inches of fresh on a very even packed powder base, sun all day, no wind. 25 runs (17/8).
Went up to the ridge - there's two poling sections now for anyone who wants to take the cat track down, so it's a bit of a push.
Weather says warm and dry until next weekend, hopefully some moisture pushing through then. March has been a little disappointing in the high country this season.
Went up to the ridge - there's two poling sections now for anyone who wants to take the cat track down, so it's a bit of a push. Weather says warm and dry until next weekend, hopefully some moisture pushing through then. March has been a little disappointing in the high country this season.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Loveland Day 10
Another schizo-weather day at altitude - sunny in the morning, then heavy snow off and on from about noon onward. The very warm weather on the last week had created a somewhat anemic spring snow situation (even a little brownish snowtop bacteria growth), but the hurredly delivered freshies during the day made for increasingly good conditions. It ain't spring just yet.
Got in 22 (15/7). Now in the homestretch of the season - looking at 15 days total.
No post on Day 9, but good solid packed powder day, near perfect sunny weather, and 26 runs.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Erratic posting
The trip to NY and a nasty dose of upper respiratory grunge has left me far behind in my (likely unnoticed) blogging, but regular posts will resume as I regain my strength and muster the time.
RIP, Mom
My last post, noting the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Karin, was made unknowingly at very nearly the exact moment my Mom passed away in Bronx, NY, at age 89. As it turns out, February 14th is now the anniversary of my marriage to my late wife, and the anniversary of my Mom's passing.
Sharon and I flew to New York for Mom's funeral, and a somewhat tense and logistically complicated gathering of siblings, my father and a few cousins.
Mom had been enduring the burden of Alzheimer's for some years - what could be more criminal that having almost nine decades of memories and not being able to enjoy any of it?
Mom valued language, loved to laugh, had impeccable taste, a good sense of humor and a certain fearlessness about her that I have only come to appreciate lately. A strong, beautiful woman - far from perfect - but one of Boston's loyal and notable daughters. She gave us all great gifts, and I love her and will never forget her.
RIP, Mom.
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