...we're liable to get net-obssesed with temperature, sun, cloud cover and runoff gradient at any number of USGS sites feeding into the San Juan.
So far...looks ok. Lots to come down, weather cool today and tomorrow, warming up pretty well in advance of 5/22 launch.
Supporting seven off two catarafts will still be a bit of a trick...
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The rest of the Summer of Classic Rock
...and we should note, tickets in hand for: The Moody Blues, Peter Gabriel (who I first saw in 1978 - maybe the longest stretch between two performances by the same artist ever for me), and Jethro Tull/Kansas. The latter two in June, the Moodys in a few weeks.
Sir Elton
Hey - we're back!
Anyway, we packed up the jalopy and headed down to the Big City last week, on my birthday eve, to see Elton John at the Wells Fargo. He was in town doing a benefit for the Matthew Shepherd Foundation, and I suspect a good portion of the crowd was there at least to support the cause. That's a good thing...but we were there because Sharon is an unrepetent Elton fan and she had never seen him.
Sorry for the lousy snap - I am barely comforted by the long-distance, concert-lighting performance of my fanchy shmancy Droid 2 camera only by the fact it's better than the camera on my old phone.
Barely a bemused Eltonhead back in the day (meaning, the 70's), I will say few thing struck me about this performance - which was solo, a fact I noted with some dismay when we first got the tickets, but was ultimately okay with once the show got underway.
Foremost, I was left with the realization that this guy was probably (I mean, this is a hard metric to really validate, since it's in part chart positions, part sales and general subjectivity) the single biggest male artist of the 1970's. They call Michael Jackson the "King of Pop"...but as far as radioplay and chart-landing singles, Jacko couldn't wipe the shit off Elton John's shoes. Wikipedia tells that he's had "seven consecutive No. 1 US albums, 56 Top 40 singles, 16 Top 10, four No. 2 hits, and nine No. 1 hits." The guy played two and a half hours, all but four or five of the tunes were hits, and I walked out of there thinking of at least 6 songs I knew that he didn't play. The repetoire is frighteningly vast.
It didn't so much make a fan of me, as it did made me appreciate the breadth of success this guy had in the space of (mostly) just a decade, a level of success I doubt could ever really be matched again.
Secondly, his singing, which was once a marvel in its range and occasional just plain weirdness, has been compressed now to barely an octave and a half, baritone rather than tenor. We will note the man is 64 years old, didn't exactly treat himself very well for a couple of decades, and couldn't approach his former range at this age even if he had. But it lent a somewhat flat character to the entirety of the concert, and muted some of the music's original drama. It mostly worked...not quite entirely.
Thirdly, he is an impressive pianist and sailed off on two or three very extended piano solos, departing off his standard gospel-meets-Brahms style with finesse and vigor. I enjoyed the solos very much, although I suspect much of the crowd got somewhat fidgety during their length.
Fourth - his flamboyance is not entirely gone. He has thrown off much of his theatrics, but he still relishes the performance and the adoration. Obvious...and, okay.
Fifth - he's short, pudgy and appears somewhat bow-legged.
I enjoyed it. Some of the tunes are real gems ("Daniel", "Levon"), owing as much to Bernie Taupin as John himself; some (like "Crocodile Rock") are cheesy trifles the world would scarecely miss if erased from our collective consciousness, and John himself, in between songs, was candid and funny, and beamed genuine gratitude at the legion of fifty-something women who still adore him with all their might. He is also passionate about his causes, the MSF being one.
Glad we went.
Anyway, we packed up the jalopy and headed down to the Big City last week, on my birthday eve, to see Elton John at the Wells Fargo. He was in town doing a benefit for the Matthew Shepherd Foundation, and I suspect a good portion of the crowd was there at least to support the cause. That's a good thing...but we were there because Sharon is an unrepetent Elton fan and she had never seen him.
Sorry for the lousy snap - I am barely comforted by the long-distance, concert-lighting performance of my fanchy shmancy Droid 2 camera only by the fact it's better than the camera on my old phone.
Barely a bemused Eltonhead back in the day (meaning, the 70's), I will say few thing struck me about this performance - which was solo, a fact I noted with some dismay when we first got the tickets, but was ultimately okay with once the show got underway.
Foremost, I was left with the realization that this guy was probably (I mean, this is a hard metric to really validate, since it's in part chart positions, part sales and general subjectivity) the single biggest male artist of the 1970's. They call Michael Jackson the "King of Pop"...but as far as radioplay and chart-landing singles, Jacko couldn't wipe the shit off Elton John's shoes. Wikipedia tells that he's had "seven consecutive No. 1 US albums, 56 Top 40 singles, 16 Top 10, four No. 2 hits, and nine No. 1 hits." The guy played two and a half hours, all but four or five of the tunes were hits, and I walked out of there thinking of at least 6 songs I knew that he didn't play. The repetoire is frighteningly vast.
It didn't so much make a fan of me, as it did made me appreciate the breadth of success this guy had in the space of (mostly) just a decade, a level of success I doubt could ever really be matched again.
Secondly, his singing, which was once a marvel in its range and occasional just plain weirdness, has been compressed now to barely an octave and a half, baritone rather than tenor. We will note the man is 64 years old, didn't exactly treat himself very well for a couple of decades, and couldn't approach his former range at this age even if he had. But it lent a somewhat flat character to the entirety of the concert, and muted some of the music's original drama. It mostly worked...not quite entirely.
Thirdly, he is an impressive pianist and sailed off on two or three very extended piano solos, departing off his standard gospel-meets-Brahms style with finesse and vigor. I enjoyed the solos very much, although I suspect much of the crowd got somewhat fidgety during their length.
Fourth - his flamboyance is not entirely gone. He has thrown off much of his theatrics, but he still relishes the performance and the adoration. Obvious...and, okay.
Fifth - he's short, pudgy and appears somewhat bow-legged.
I enjoyed it. Some of the tunes are real gems ("Daniel", "Levon"), owing as much to Bernie Taupin as John himself; some (like "Crocodile Rock") are cheesy trifles the world would scarecely miss if erased from our collective consciousness, and John himself, in between songs, was candid and funny, and beamed genuine gratitude at the legion of fifty-something women who still adore him with all their might. He is also passionate about his causes, the MSF being one.
Glad we went.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
SJ 2011
Sharon managed to score a date-perfect launch date for San Juan this year - May 22nd. Putting together the trip details now, updates to follow.
Could we resist a little stoke? I think not....
Could we resist a little stoke? I think not....
Stan The Man
Did a really good interview with Stanley Clarke a couple of weeks back. I have a vague recollection of getting him sometime back in the 90's, and my impression of him as a relaxed, self-effacing and friendly guy was fully borne out in this interview. Apart from the stuff we used in the piece, he expounded on RTF's early days, Weather Report, Jaco, Jeff Beck and Michael Vick. Haven't had an interview this fun or productive in years.
So, we caught his gig at the Boulder Theater last weekend. Victor Wooten and his band opened, and as much as I like Victor (interviewed him once or twice - nice guy), I was pretty disappointed by his set.
Lots of pointless noodling, showy theatrics from his band (including his brother, who can play keyboards with astonishing alacrity when he really wants to) and generally long on audience pandering and short on pure musicality. Now a fixture in the jamband legion, Wooten was playing to a crowd that was surprisingly heavy with his own fans, so no surprise. But to the extent that he felt he had to show up with chops a-blazin', in deference to the headliner, it didn't work for us. We're looking forward to the original Flecktones reunion, and the tour, if there is one.
Stanley's set was better, although likewise a bit heavy on the lead-bass firepower.
Like the RTF show we caught three years ago, Stanley's solos are too long. His new record has some great pieces on it, but between his and his drummer's solos, we heard too few of them. They did a very nice, if a little over-dramatized, read of Mingus' "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat", in addition to one or two cuts from the new CD. The clincher and redeemer for us was an utterly luminous read of RTF's "No Mystery", with Stanley on upright. Mainly acoustic, tight as a drum through the grueling head sections, the piece just bounded and danced throughout. Beautiful.
Clarke's Alembic electric bass, honed by many years of lead playing, is still a fearsome weapon, but we were intrigued by a few passages he did on upright - plucked, arpeggiated sections - that hint more promisingly at the deep musical affinity that Clarke has with the instrument...buried, to our ears, a little too deeply behind the solo firepower.
Still fun for a droopy old fusioneer, who despite a few complaints about the show, is nonetheless glad to have The Man still around and still workin' it.
So, we caught his gig at the Boulder Theater last weekend. Victor Wooten and his band opened, and as much as I like Victor (interviewed him once or twice - nice guy), I was pretty disappointed by his set.
Lots of pointless noodling, showy theatrics from his band (including his brother, who can play keyboards with astonishing alacrity when he really wants to) and generally long on audience pandering and short on pure musicality. Now a fixture in the jamband legion, Wooten was playing to a crowd that was surprisingly heavy with his own fans, so no surprise. But to the extent that he felt he had to show up with chops a-blazin', in deference to the headliner, it didn't work for us. We're looking forward to the original Flecktones reunion, and the tour, if there is one.
Stanley's set was better, although likewise a bit heavy on the lead-bass firepower.
Like the RTF show we caught three years ago, Stanley's solos are too long. His new record has some great pieces on it, but between his and his drummer's solos, we heard too few of them. They did a very nice, if a little over-dramatized, read of Mingus' "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat", in addition to one or two cuts from the new CD. The clincher and redeemer for us was an utterly luminous read of RTF's "No Mystery", with Stanley on upright. Mainly acoustic, tight as a drum through the grueling head sections, the piece just bounded and danced throughout. Beautiful.
Clarke's Alembic electric bass, honed by many years of lead playing, is still a fearsome weapon, but we were intrigued by a few passages he did on upright - plucked, arpeggiated sections - that hint more promisingly at the deep musical affinity that Clarke has with the instrument...buried, to our ears, a little too deeply behind the solo firepower.
Still fun for a droopy old fusioneer, who despite a few complaints about the show, is nonetheless glad to have The Man still around and still workin' it.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Ramones get a lifetime Grammy
I remember interviewing Joey Ramone back in the late 90's, he seemed puzzled by some award granted to his band in Japan, but was happy to be flying off to receive it.
He's dead now, of course, as is two of the three other founding members of the group. Pity we couldn't catch sight of the four sixty-ish street punks in torn jeans tearing through "I Wanna Be Sedated" at the Grammy ceremony, but we know it never belonged there anyway.
He's dead now, of course, as is two of the three other founding members of the group. Pity we couldn't catch sight of the four sixty-ish street punks in torn jeans tearing through "I Wanna Be Sedated" at the Grammy ceremony, but we know it never belonged there anyway.
Catching up
We've been remiss lately, and no excuses.
We did a nice interview with Davy Knowles a few weeks back, the kid has been flying high as the latest contender for blues/rock savior crown, now soiled and greasy from having been handed down through the hands of Beck, Clapton, Green, Gallagher et al. Unremarkably, he wishes people (like me, probably) would credit him for his songs, rather than his chops. But frankly, in case no one has told him yet, his chops are better.
DeVotchka keeps putting out soaring, redemption-heavy CD masterpieces, and their upcoming release 100 Lovers is likely to be regarded as one of their best, even if they have drifted fairly far afield from their Romani-campfire eastern euro roots into broad, sweeping, almost futuristic chamber rock. Nick Urata was hung over on Super Bowl Sunday, and our cell connection was just this side of miserable. But we managed a decent piece nonetheless.
Upcoming: Stanley Clarke (if his publicist ever stoops to replying to my email), Stockholm Syndrome and Dirty Dozen. Next three weeks busy.
We did a nice interview with Davy Knowles a few weeks back, the kid has been flying high as the latest contender for blues/rock savior crown, now soiled and greasy from having been handed down through the hands of Beck, Clapton, Green, Gallagher et al. Unremarkably, he wishes people (like me, probably) would credit him for his songs, rather than his chops. But frankly, in case no one has told him yet, his chops are better.
DeVotchka keeps putting out soaring, redemption-heavy CD masterpieces, and their upcoming release 100 Lovers is likely to be regarded as one of their best, even if they have drifted fairly far afield from their Romani-campfire eastern euro roots into broad, sweeping, almost futuristic chamber rock. Nick Urata was hung over on Super Bowl Sunday, and our cell connection was just this side of miserable. But we managed a decent piece nonetheless.
Upcoming: Stanley Clarke (if his publicist ever stoops to replying to my email), Stockholm Syndrome and Dirty Dozen. Next three weeks busy.
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