Jim Rhinehart

Peter Gabriel and creativity

2011-08-02T20:53:00.003-04:00

The other night I was laying in bed, letting my mind wander (as I often do - also in the shower), and for some reason an interview with Peter Gabriel I read a long time ago come back to me.

It was a feature in Mix magazine on Gabriel's new (at that time) custom-built recording studio. This was around the time of "The Last Temptation of Christ," for which Gabriel composed and produced the music, so . . . we're probably talking 1989.

Gabriel talked about the creative process, and how computers were changing that process. Remember, this is in the EARLY days of MIDI, digital audio, and Madonna. Sequencing sessions often involved swapping floppies on your single-drive Macintosh Plus (if you were lucky!). Oh, how I could reminisce . . .

Back to the point. Gabriel talked about how he envisioned a system (in his studio and in his process) where he could switch from creative, intuitive, right-brained activities (say, improvising on a keyboard) to the more structured, logical, left-brained activities (creating a composition, making technical decisions, etc.).

I don't remember how he put it, but it was like having a tablet or brush or mouse or some other paradigm, and being able to use both halves of the creative process to their fullest potential. He didn't put it that way, of course - he's way smarter than I am. But it was one of the earliest times that I became aware of the different aspects of the creative process.

Which reminds me, of course, of "The Inner Game of Tennis." There is a time to be intellectual, to work at "thinking" through moves, or to physically step through moves. This is the time when our inner "coach" can be useful, observing our performance and critiquing it. But during a game (or, musicians, during a performance!), that is NOT the time for the coach to be micromanaging. During a performance, the goal should be to be completely present, in the moment, so our body (intellect, instinct, talent) can behave naturally.

Which reminds me, of course, of Aikido and other martial arts. "We do not rise to the level of our expectations, but fall to the level of our training." Which is just another way of saying, at crunch time (a match, a game, a performance), it's the "lower-level," internalized behaviors that will always be there for us. THAT'S how we know what we REALLY know. You know?

Plus I just think "So" is an AMAZING album!

A visit to NOLA

2011-07-07T08:47:00.002-04:00

The digest version:

FOOD

Po-boys I’ve Had
-Shrimp at Coop’s place: very good
-Half shrimp half oyster at Crabby Jack’s: excellent!
-Shrimp at Freret Po-Boy and Donut Shop: outstanding! Best of the trip!

Po-boys Others Ordered That I Sampled
-Catfish at Crabby Jack’s: outstanding
-Cochon du lait at Crabby Jack’s: o.k. (disappointing, tasted like a bbq sandwich)
-Shrimp and green tomatoes with remoulade at Crabby Jack’s: outstanding!

Other Dishes

From Coop’s Place
-Red Beans: very good
-Jambalaya: excellent!
-Fried chicken: first time outstanding, second time excellent

From Freret
-Fried catfish: outstanding
-Crawfish Etoufee: excellent!
-Red beans: outstanding

From Frank’s Restaurant
-Muffaletta: very good to excellent, generally pleasing.

From Dat Dog
-Crawfish (and pork) sausage on a grilled sourdough roll with Andouille sauce
and grilled onions. Un-believable! Highlight of the trip thus far!

From Central Grocery
-Muffaletta: excellent. Not heated/toasted, as Frank’s was. Both are legitimate
approaches. I think Central Grocery by a skootch.

MUSIC

-Chris Ardoin and Nustep at the Rock and Bowl (Zydeco+ish)
Entertaining, good band, vocals sometimes got in the way

-Kermit at Blue Nile
Good, but not his best stuff; playing to the tourist crowd (librarians!) – did “I got
a feeling” by the Black-Eyed Peas. Really? Left after the first set, since he said
he was bringing a DJ in to join for the next set

-Lagniappe Brass Band at the Balcony Music Club (BMC)
Excellent – almost outstanding! They’ve only been together about a year, but
they’ve got a really tight sound – drum set, not two drummers. More
progressive harmonies, etc.

-Rebirth Brass Band at the Maple Leaf
Excellent, and solid. Very consistent. Ended up sitting at the bar because the
preppy college kids on the floor got annoying with their talking and faux-
“getting into the music”

-Johnny Vidacovich, June Yamagishi, and Keiko Komaki at the Maple Leaf
Killin’!! The guy’s a monster, and the group was fun (and good!)

What's Wrong With Choral Music Today

2011-03-13T14:51:00.002-04:00

20 or 25 years ago, some people started writing a different kind of choral music. My first awareness of it was in some works by Morten Lauridsen - think "Dirait-on" - but I'm sure there were others. As a composer, I think of it in technical terms: Lots of extended diatonic harmonies; lots of "V" chords which contained both the leading tone AND the tonic; added seconds are de rigueur; and, whenever possible, keep the tempo and harmonic rhythm slow so the audience (and choir) can soak up those pseudo-dissonant chords.

Now, to be sure, Lauridsen does not write solely in this style - his madrigal cycles contain some fascinating (and challenging) writing. However, his "Magnum Mysterium" is perhaps the most visible work of his using these techniques. And it is a beautiful piece (which, I am sorry to say, does not translate terribly well to instrumental music - more on that later). But Lauridsen kicked off a movement that is going strong today, largely because of Eric Whitacre.

Whitacre is the closest thing the choral world has to a rock star. His music is hugely popular, especially with young choral singers. I do not begrudge him his success, and I only slightly begrudge him his flowing rockstar hair. Unfortunately, success breeds imitation, and I think it is safe to say there are a LOT of Whitacre imitators out there. Including Whitacre himself.

Really, it's a good problem to have: The reason for the imitators is simply because people like to listen to it and choirs like to sing it. And this, I think, is a large part of the popularity of the style: kids in choirs like the feel of those tight harmonies, full of seconds and ninths (but nothing too dissonant!).

But here is the problem: many composers are simply writing music for effect. Or, put another way, the music is not about expressing the text, but rather just about creating beautiful sounds. It seems that many composers come up with the beautiful, sonorous music first, then find a text to slap on. Or, as is the case with a recent "Gloria" I heard, the text is just a vehicle for the composer to incorporate as many trendy styles in one piece as possible. With little thought for unity, or continuity, or (heaven forbid) the text.

There seems to be a lack of originality in the choral world right now. If you want to be popular, write like (standard) Whitacre. (You could, of course, take a chance, and write like a DIFFERENT Whitacre: "She Weeps Over Rahoon" is one of his more original pieces which had its beginnings as a piano improvisation.)

I am not denigrating Whitacre, except for maybe his hair just a bit. He took elements of a style introduced by Lauridsen (and others I'm not aware of?) and took the next evolutionary step. And he has a range of compositions for a range of situations, some more original than others. What I AM denigrating is all the composers who choose to write in Eric Whitacre's voice rather than finding their own. That's taking the easy way out.

An original style does not need to be dissonant or difficult to listen to. (It seems the freshest new music these days comes from Scandinavia.) But dissonance and difficulty have their place as well.

Directors: Look beyond Whitacre and Whitacre Lite. Composers: Look beyond your own experience. High School choral students: Look beyond the hair. (Or not - that one was just for fun!)

Notes to Myself

2011-02-24T15:10:00.002-05:00

Well, here we are at another New Music Festival here at Ball State. Lots of great music lined up for the next few days, including two pieces of mine. And, as is almost always the case with music with live performers, I have been making a number of revisions to scores this week.

Basically, I've been improving the notation based on player feedback. Which is a good thing. But I got to thinking: "Gosh, what if I just wrote it right the FIRST time?!"

To that end, this is the beginning of a note to myself. I planning on adding to it as I learn. These are not rules so much as guidelines, to quote the Pirate. Also, there are many, MANY times where the notation is a very specific way for a very specific reason, and the players just have to suck it up and do their best. But really, lots of the time a little change makes everybody happier.

When possible, try to have important moments occur at the beginning of a measure. Sure, I may feel this entrance as an upbeat to the next measure, but it's probably going to SOUND like a downbeat, and the players will have an easier time if it really IS an upbeat.
Even though I may feel a section in an "eighth note" meter (3/8, 5/8), if there are lots of fast notes (32nds, etc.), rebar it in 3/4 or 5/8 so the fast notes are sixteenths rather than 32nds. Really, it sounds the same.
Apparently, 7/8 is not a completely natural time signature for everybody, like it is for me. Who knew?
Pauses don't have to ALWAYS be notated by rests. Sometimes it's o.k. to trust the player to pause a while without necessarily counting two measures of silent beats.
If I am going to be the pianist for the performance, WRITE SOMETHING I CAN PLAY! Moron.

Share any thoughts of your own! I will add them here if they're not totally lame! :-)

It's been a while

2011-01-02T21:27:00.002-05:00

As I was rifling though the flotsam of my life, I realized I hadn't contributed to my blog in quite some time. It's not for want of things to say, of course, I just hadn't thought of it. So this is just a quick note to say "hi," and I'm still here.

By the way, am I the only one who thinks there is a difference between "a while" and "awhile?" Actually, I think I just prefer "a while," because I usually mean "a [span of time]." Anyway . . .

My brain has been pummeled over the last several months. Largely because of many, MANY academic struggles. But this is good. A doctorate (I have always thought) should not be a particularly easy endeavor. I disagree with those professors and students alike who feel it MUST be a painful, humbling experience. That's just silly. But my brain has definitely been stretched as of late. And it feels good! At least, after it's all done.

This next semester looks to be a bit easier, but with new brain-stretching opportunities. In particular, I will be diving into the electronic side of composition. Not sequencing and Pro Tools - I've done that stuff for years. I mean Max/MSP and the like. I have always loved computers, and have torn them apart and put them together, programmed them and repurposed them. This will just be another in a long line of computer-geekdom phases. However, in this case, it will be about 95% completely new to me. I have no problem being completely ignorant (I do it well, and quite often), but I tend to be a bit impatient with myself. But that's all part of the game.

I hope I continue to learn throughout my life; the more I learn, the more I realize there is to know!

The First Line

2010-09-12T19:21:00.002-04:00

I was listening to NPR, as I often do, and so should you, and I heard a story on the latest iteration of "Three Minute Fiction," where participants write stories that can be read aloud in three minutes or less, roughly 600 words.

The latest contest introduced a "first line/last line" element to the mix. (For anyone involved in improv comedy, this should be very familiar!) The guest judge, Michael Cunningham, provided the first line and last line of the story, and the writer is to supply everything in-between.

But this is not about that. Not exactly.

During the interview, Cunningham was asked if he struggles with developing the first line of a novel. He said, “I agonize for months over first lines.” Indeed, he also said (in my heavily edited version), “Once you have the language and the rhythm and the point of view and the tone of the first line . . . the novel has … begun to acquire its identity . . . and you know what version of the English language to write it in .”

Again, art is art.

Composers have the same issue: How to begin the piece? I would argue this is even more crucial in this age of sound bites and instant opinions: Grab the listener from the first sound.

Composers differ in the amount of pre-compositional planning they take part in. But in these days of "pan-stylism," where a composer has at his disposal the collected techniques of the previous six centuries (or more), it is more important than ever to determine what "universe" any particular composition will inhabit. "Tonal oder Atonal?" What will the pitch material be? Texture? Rhythm (or lack thereof)? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Just like Cunningham and his prose, once a compositional universe is determined, the piece can begin. OR a composer may come up with an excellent beginning of a piece, and only THEN begin to work out the ramifications of what has been written.

Civilians have no idea of the struggles artists go through, whether music, writing, painting, whatever. But frankly, that's o.k. That's not their job.

You be the judge . . .

2010-07-17T18:46:00.002-04:00

Listen to THIS,
then listen to THIS.

Hmm?

How about another:

Listen to THIS,
then listen to THIS.

Notice any similarities?

Just thinkin' out loud here.

#1: Footloose, Kenny Loggins, 1984
#2: Funk #49, The James Gang, 1970

#3: The University of Florida Fight Song, composed ???
#4: I'm Henery the Eighth I Am, originally written in 1911, popularized by Herman's Hermits in 1965

A thought from a veteran

2010-07-10T20:52:00.004-04:00

Noted composer Don Grantham mentioned something the other night that got me thinking. It seems a perpetual question for composers: Who are you writing for? (And before you get all grammarnazi on me, it was a single 19th-century English writer who proclaimed the "never end with a preposition" rule, and everyone just went along with it. It is not holy writ!) Anyway, do you write for yourself, for your own artistic expression? Do you write for the audience, to give them an enjoyable experience? Do you write to challenge your audience, to make them uncomfortable?

Don is a practical guy. He said that, really, a composer needs to write for three groups: The person or organization commisioning the work, the musicians who will be performing the work, and the audience who will be (hopefully) supporting the work by their attendance and enthusiasm. And, of course, this all has to be done while satisfying the composer's artistic needs as well.

It always seems to come back to balance. Whether balancing work and family, good food and good for you food (back off!), or the needs of the various components of the artistic endeavor, it comes back to balance. The Middle Way. Some times we do better than others, but we always keep trying.

It's almost like we have to keep working at this our entire lives! What's up with that? :-)

Vocal music

2010-07-10T20:52:00.003-04:00

I don't know exactly why, but there are very few contemporary vocal pieces I actually enjoy, let alone would want on my ipod.

First, let's set our parameters: I am not talking about opera here; that's its own subject, and a vast one at that. I am also not talking about choral music because, well, that's its own subject as well. I shall be speaking of the contemporary solo art song for singer and instrument(s). Most often it's a soloist with piano, but, for example, I saw one piece for voice, clarinet, cello, and piano. The solo voice is the key element here.

It must also be stated that I am by no means an authority: There are VOLUMES of vocal music I have not experienced yet! So there!

First of all, there's the vocal writing. So often, it seems unnatural for the singer. The composer creates angular, dissonant vocal lines. And I understand perfectly well the desire to create new sounds or a mood. But the voice (and the singer) is not the same as an external instrument (or instrumentalist). Already the manner of vocal production for the classical voice renders it alien to the average listener; at a certain point, it's just not pleasant to listen to (and certainly LOOKS uncomfortable for the poor singer).

All too often, the composer is simply insensitive to the text or the vocalist. He writes for the singer like he writes for trumpet. Or she simply writes to achieve a musical effect, while completely disregarding the text.

I know I'm old-fashioned; I know I lean towards the conservative; but I still prefer vocal lines to be somehow related to the natural stresses and emphases of the words.

Finally, there's the singer. I am completely aware of the physics and physiology of vocal production, especially "classical" voice. I know that in order to project in a hall and to protect the voice, much training is needed. But why do so many "classical" singers look like they're in pain? Even when they try to show the emotion of the song in their facial expressions, I still feel they need to make a trip to the bathroom.

Perhaps I'm just corrupted by musical theatre. Maybe I'm just too used to the directness of communication in that genre.

Or maybe some composers need to consider the text and the singer before they stroke their own ego.

Gosh, that was snarky, wasn't it?

Twins

2010-06-29T22:20:00.000-04:00

[Reposted from 2008]

While visiting my sister in Washington, D.C., I thought it would be fun to go to a jazz club. Now, D.C. is not known for jazz clubs, at least not on the scale of New York or Chicago. But my sister and her husband (I guess he'd be my brother-in-law, huh?) had been to one particular club many times, and had enjoyed it. It's a small club (is there any other kind?) opened by sisters from Ethiopia. As my brother-in-law put it, they didn't know anything about running a club or restaurant, they just loved jazz. So things might not run as smoothly as a more "established" establishment. It was a Wednesday night, so we were expecting a small house, and the artist listed in the paper, a piano trio, was not a "name." But sometimes, those are the treasures to be discovered. And it was indeed a night of discovery.

The music was to start at 8. We arrived at about 7:50, after a half-smoked at Ben's Chili Bowl (look it up). There was a table of 4 next to us, and a tech setting up some mics on the piano. Nice baby grand. Drum set – hmm, no cymbals. And where will the bass player stand? (Welcome to the mind of a musician!) About 5 after 8, the tech comes over and sits with the 4 people, who know him. He's working on a glass of red wine. Dressed in black, 40s or 50s, gracefully balding with glasses and a touch of arrogance. Well, that gives him away – it's not a tech, it's the piano player! And apparently he was just fine-tuning the stage setup. A couple of minutes later he went back up to the stage and skooched the piano about an inch to the right. I guess that made all the difference. He then came back to sit with his friends. It was about 8:15. "What time is the 3:00 parade?" "When does the 8:00 show start?"

At this point the young woman with the revealing dress walks in. Well, not 'revealing' as much as 'suggesting', and she didn't really wear it that comfortably. She has brought his CDs and head shot for the display. As his – girlfriend? – daughter? – talks to the friends (we're seated about 18 inches away, but he never acknowledged us), we learn that she's an endocrinologist during the day, but she's planning on going to the conservatory. Oh, great. The girlfriend (daughter?) sings. We'll be hearing THAT later in the evening!

At 8:25, the piano player saunters up to the piano, saying, "the first song is pretty much a soundcheck anyway." That was a tipoff. He pulled to vocal mic closer. Uh – did it say he was going to sing? And we realize there IS no bass player or drummer. It's just this guy. Uh oh . . .

He starts off with a big flourish, sort of Billy Joel meets John Williams meets The Muppet Show. And as he starts playing some chords, two guys walk into the bar (what is this, some kind of joke?), and one says, loudly, "Boy, this place is empty!" Ahh, friends! The piano player stops, says "I was just waiting for you guys," goes over and repositions a mic, complaining about a bit of feedback. (There are nine people in the audience within 10 feet of the guy – what does he need a sound system for?) He then starts the song in earnest: "Don't Get Around Much Anymore," the Duke Ellington classic. He starts it as a ballad, which, ok, it could work. But the piano playing is a bit . . . how should one say? . . . hackish. Like unto a hack. But we are straying dangerously close to piano bar territory now. If I only knew . . .

By the way, at one point a man walked in off the street and asked if I wanted to buy a rose for the lady. I of course replied, say it with me here, "That's no lady – that's my sister!" Thank you. Try the veal.

And then he hits the fast part. Or, rather, where he goes into tempo. Where I expected swing, I got shuffle. Where I expected jazz, I got piano bar. Where I expected art, I got heartburn. And not from Ben's.

His dau…girlfriend is loving it. His 4 minions and 2 buddies are swaying, bobbing their heads, and smiling. They have no clue. My sister and I look at each other, horrified. Did I mention she's also an excellent musician and pianist? Right. It was loud, harsh, trite, and clichéd. He pounded the ivories. He almost jumped off the bench. He played lots of notes in a short amount of time, which, if you do the math, means he was very good. IN HIS MIND. My sister and I resorted to texting each other as to not make a scene. She suggested he may want to wear a top-hat (think showman). I suggested perhaps blackface (think tasteless showman).

We came up with a plan. My sister would "go to the restroom," pay the bill, and tell the restaurant lady how this was NOT what we were expecting (a trio was advertised, jazz was advertised, etc.). She did that, and basically told her this guy was awful. The owner didn't disagree. However, after Liberace threw in a musical quote of "Dixie" TWICE, I was ready to leave. When he started playing "Heart and Soul," I up and left. (This was all during his 20-minute solo in the middle of "Don't Get Around!" Just think what would be happening in the next 2 hours!)

After laughing all the way home, we checked out the guy's website. The lesson: Do your homework. If we had done that before, we would have never gone to the place! Lots of new-age multitracked vocals, songs for children, a dozen self-produced, marketed, and distributed CDs (want a CD? I'll burn it – give me just a sec!) – this was not what we were looking for. We went by the quotes in the paper (and what show did THOSE people see?)

Anyway, next time you're in D.C., go to Twins. It really is a cute place. I'd recommend the weekend, though!

Words

2009-11-06T22:21:00.002-05:00

The . . . uh . . . thing about language is, so many good words are already taken. They already have strong associations built-in, so it's hard to re-task them.

Case in point: I was ruminating earlier today (back off!) about composition, performance, improvisation, that sort of thing. And I started to think that there are three . . . things of composition:

Type 1, there is the composition, and there is the performance,
Type 2, the performance is part OF the composition, and
Type 3, the performance IS the composition.

Now, we can talk more about the specifics later, but right now, this bugs me. I don't like the "type" way of doing this, because it sounds like diabetes. (Or, if you're Wilfred Brimley, "diabetis".)

My first thought was to call them "categories," so we would have "category 1," etc. After having lived in Florida for 15 years, categories are for hurricanes. 'Nuff said.

Brands? Cereal. Species? Counterpoint, animals, and Natasha Henstridge. Forms? Too many to list.

Then again, not so long ago, "gay" meant "happy." I guess meanings can change.

New Music

2009-11-06T07:58:00.003-05:00

Well, if you've been following my whereabouts (and if you have, that's kind of sad for you), you know I am not in Orlando, but in, um, beautiful Muncie, Indiana, doing a doctorate in theory and composition. So expect a growing number of posts over the next couple of years related to music composition, and performance, and maybe even a bit of college life. But probably not that last one.

Anyway . . .

As a composer of "contemporary" music (which, really, just means recently written - it's not a style), I've been out of the loop for a while. I've been teaching, playing, arranging, and writing little pieces for friends for the last 15 years. So I'm trying to get up to speed. and looking around at various premieres of new works (yes, you COULD have a premiere of an old work), I'm beginning to wonder: Does ANYBODY just write music any more?

The vast majority of pieces I see (and hear) are programmatic: there is a story. It could be a true story ("This piece is an elaboration of my divorce and subsequent exploration of single life"), something from literature ("Peanuts: The 5-act multimedia opera"), or just an imagined program ("This is a symphony of nature: The insect kingdom versus various plant phyla").

There usually follow, in great detail, musical aspects related to the story.

A sonata is not sexy. A symphony without a subtitle is lacking. Make it a "Sonata in Three Dialogues," or a "Symphonic Metamorphosis on an Existential Haiku," and people will warm to it quicker.

I think I'm going to run into a problem here. I try NOT to write with a program in mind. I try to create a musical experience (o.k., arts lovers, perhaps an "aesthetic experience"), both for the listeners and the performers.

I am not disparaging those who write with/to programs. I'm a big believer in "whatever works for you - be yourself!" I just wonder if I'm handicapping myself by NOT affixing colorful titles to my works. I've never been a big PR person. I hope I don't have to start now.

Maybe one reason for the trend is that many "laypeople" think new "classical" music is too difficult for them to understand. For many, many years composers wrote music that was beyond even the most sophisticated audiences. Composers would write for themselves, entertaining themselves with the newest permutations of applied logarithmic analysis with regard to the x-axis of symmetrical amorphism. (Not an actual term.) So, today, by providing a title and program, the audience is comforted. "I don't know what I'm about to hear, but I know what the composer is TRYING to express."

So what about the composer who just tries to express - music?

The Stages Of Life

2008-08-18T22:24:00.001-04:00

According to my 10-year-old son, the stages of life are:

Baby
Child
Teen
Adult
Grandma or Grandpa
Dead

'Nuff said.

What's on YOUR ipod?

2008-06-18T22:38:00.003-04:00

I heard a story on the radio today about Tim Russert's memorial service. The audio clip from the service was Joe Cocker singing "With A Little Help From My Friends." I thought, "wow, cool service!" Then it was explained that the music at the service was taken from Tim's ipod. This struck me as a curiously intimate moment.

It used to be your mom would tell you to wear clean underwear "in case you were in an accident" and the doctors had to take off your clothes or something like that. Setting aside for a moment the complete bizarreness of this concept, these ideas are not too different. How do you want to be remembered? If you were to die this moment, what would people say at your service? Or even more thought-provoking, what would you be leaving behind, if you were not able to prepare?

Is there secret porn on your computer? Would your cell phone records show any surprises? If your mom, or spouse, or best friend, or even a complete stranger, were to go through all of your belongings, what would they find? Would it be consistent with the person they know? Would it be consistent with how you would LIKE to be remembered?

What's on YOUR ipod? It really does tell a lot about you. Broken into big categories, I have a bunch of jazz, a bunch of classical, and a bunch of musicals. Some rock and pop, a fairly big chunk of world music, and various oddities. I do have some music labeled "explicit:" Guns N' Roses, Avenue Q, Spring Awakening, that sort of thing.

Is the life you're currently living consistent with the life you want to have led?

The Talented

2008-01-21T13:52:00.001-05:00

Went to an event last night called "Cabaret Party." The brainchild of two very talented and very funny friends, it's an opportunity for music theater types to get together, have a glass of wine, and sing some songs. It's an open mic, anybody can get up and sing, and performances range from polished opening-night-ready numbers to works in progress that sometimes require a lyric or two fed by the pianist.

I had a couple of thoughts. The first of which is, "Wow!," we have some incredibly gifted and talented performers right here in Orlando. I heard fantastic voices, saw some phenomenal comic acting (NOT an easy thing to do!), and discovered several new songs. This was not a case of, "gosh, I want to be a singer." These WERE singers, in the best sense of the word.

Which brings me to my second thought. The vast majority of these talented people are working in the entertainment industry in Orlando. That's code for Disney. A couple at Universal, but the vast majority at the Mouse. Heck, the vast majority work at the Finding Nemo show, but that's not the point. The point is, very few of these folks actually sing for a living. Many work behind the scenes. Several don't even work on the performance side - they are in offices or other administrative positions. There are always a couple who are about to leave for New York, or who have just come back from New York, or who split time between here and New York. But generally, these are extremely talented people who have to work 2, 3, or 4 jobs just to make a living. And that makes me a bit sad. I realize that's the business, and that's life - we've ALL been there! - but it just doesn't seem right. We would all make more money if we sold timeshares, or landscaped lawns, or worked as paralegals. But then again, life's not just about money. Right?

But then, there's the other side of that coin: Here are people, coming out on a cold Sunday night to sing and support others and be together, simply because it makes them happy. Maybe they're not in a show right now, and might not be able to for some time, but they still love the theater, and love to sing, and learn new songs, and sing with friends, and laugh and cry and get angry and offended and scandalized and tickled, because it makes them happy. And alive.

It's like the scene in "Field of Dreams," where Shoeless Joe Jackson (Ray Liotta) is talking about his expulsion from the game of baseball, and says, "we would have played for free." That's why these people came out on a cold Sunday night. For the love of the game.

A Great Cat

2008-01-20T15:36:00.002-05:00

This afternoon, after a VERY quick and unexpected illness, we had our kitty Maya put down. She got sick last week, lost a bunch of weight, had a LOT of fluid in her chest, and was having big trouble breathing. We tried antibiotics, and had the fluid removed once, but it filled back up . . . basically just marking time. So, to avoid a painful death by starvation, dehydration, or lack of breathing (within a week), we chose to end it quickly and peacefully.

The hardest part, by FAR, was the fact that Maya was Christina's best buddy. She would sleep on her bed, let her carry her around, and do all those things 10-year-old girls expect from beloved cats.

I was at the vet with Maya, and Cindy and I made the decision by phone. She then brought Matthew and Christina to the vet to say goodbye. Many, many tears. By all. And some good talk about why this was actually better for Maya, and what would actually happen. We talked about death (no, she wasn't "put to sleep" - she's dead), and how they would give her medicine to make her sleep, then some more medicine to stop her body, so she wouldn't feel any pain at all. Then the doctor came in, and took Maya away.

The kids and the adults then discussed the options: Either the doctor's office could bury Maya (actually, she'd be cremated, but I didn't want to get into that with them!), or we could take her home and bury her in our back yard. (There was a third option - we could take the ashes after cremation, but only if you bought one of their fancy-schmancy urns to bring them home in, and we would have wanted to sprinkle them somewhere, not put them over our fireplace. If we had a fireplace.) Not surprisingly, the kids chose home burial. So Maya was returned to us in a nice white cardboard box (I don't know, maybe the size of a nice gift ham?).

After I dug the hole (in the sunny spot in the yard where Maya loved to roll), we had a brief service, everyone said something, we all threw a handful of dirt in, and then we covered her up. Actually, the kids liked pushing the dirt back in more than anything else. And Christina put one of her shoelaces in with Maya, the one Maya liked to play with.

We got Maya in 1995 in Tallahassee, to keep Maggie company. Unlike Maggie, whose family we knew, Maya came from the shelter. We picked her up, and she snuggled into your neck and purred, "Pick me! Pick me!" She was only a couple of months old, and had some respiratory problems. We named her Maya. We nicknamed her "Wheezer." So she came in a wheezer, and went out a wheezer. Seems appropriate.

She was a most unique cat. Other nicknames were "Roadkill," for the way she would sleep on the floor on her back (she had more width than height), "Flounder," for her unmistakeable profile, "Dogcat," because she often behaved more like a dog, and "Jambalaya," because, well, it kinda rhymed. As in, "Maya, Maya, Jambalaya, Wheezer-Geezer pants on fiyah." I guess you had to be there.

She loved the outdoors, and her black chair. She took crap from no one. And she'll always be remembered as the cat who actually LIKED other people, as opposed to Maggie the Scaredy Cat.

We'll miss her greeting us at the garage door, meowing throughout the house in the middle of the night, trying to dash through a briefly open door, or "bunny-feeting" a hand or piece of yarn. Bye Maya!

p.s. And about 10 minutes after burying her, I was off to a rehearsal. Story of my life! (It was good, though - it's always good to be with good people.)

JazzFest, Part 1: The Food

2008-01-20T15:35:00.001-05:00

So, bit of background. My sister Lynn has been going to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival (JazzFest) for several years now. It happens around her birthday. This year, I was finally able to join her, and experience my first jazz fest (and BOY was it needed)! This is the first of a series of blogs about the event. The upshot: It was GREAT!

Of course, if you're going to talk about New Orleans, you've got to start (and end!) with the food! I had 29 hours (12 p.m. Saturday until 5 p.m. Sunday) to enjoy as much as I could.

JazzFest is very cool, in that the whole event is at the fairgrounds, with stages, tents, food booths, craft booths, beer booths set up around the whole site. So no travelling around town, just walking from one great performance to the next. But don't think because it's at a fairgrounds, the food is elephant ears and cotton candy. This was real New Orleans food served by the finest (=best, not most expensive!) restaurants.

Saturday:

Muffeletta - if you don't know what it is, look it up! - nice, fresh way to start. Lynn had one of the hits of the festival - remember, she's been here before, so she knows - a cochon de lait po-boy. Essentially sliced pork, marinated in milk and served in a roll with a rich, creamy sauce. Unbelievable! And we got our first taste of crawfish for the fest - fried eggplant with crawfish sauce. All washed down with a Foster's.

I had seen some fried chicken go by, so I got 5 wings - just like they're supposed to be, no frills, and delicious! There's a place in Tallahassee called Shingle's Chicken House . . .

An hour or so later, after some walking, I had a crawfish etouffee'. Can't go to Louisiana without an etouffee'!

Near the end of the day (we left around 6), Lynn got us iced cafe' au lait, and crawfish bread. Think of it as a crawfish calzone. Mine was a bit overdone, and I had just had the etoufee', so it didn't really do anything for me.

Of course, that was just the end of our day at the fest - that evening I had red beans and rice at the Rock'n'Bowl. But more on that later!

Sunday:

After a typical breakfast at the hotel, we had beignets and (hot) cafe' au lait at the festival. Fantastic - Cafe du Monde quality - you get three LARGE beignets COVERED with powdered sugar. OK, my life's complete. But wait, there's more!

Shrimp po-boy - very good, but the guy in line before me got more shrimp. What's up with that? Oh well. Lynn got another cochon de lait, but, in addition, she brought over crawfish beignets. Oh . . . my . . . God . . . THOSE were good! Basically crawfish hush puppies - and tasty! The sauce tasted like the crawfish sauce from the eggplant - can't complain about that!

And I ended the day (again, around 4 or 4:30) with 3 more beignets, this time with an iced au lait. Debated having three more, but had to go!

Very happy - and not overstuffed! Came home and made red beans and rice tonight. Still in my system, I guess!

Next: The Music!

JazzFest, Part 2: The Music

2008-01-20T15:34:00.003-05:00

OK, so we know that for the entire weekend we were happy from food, so all that was left was to enjoy the music.

I had just come off a hellish 6-9-12 months or so, and really needed a break. So I got myself into the jazz mood by catching Michelle Mailhot at the Mad Cow cabaret festival. As always, she was wonderful, and her pianist, Mark Shilansky, was very good. I really enjoyed the show, and learned a couple of new things. Actually, can you learn anything OTHER than things that are new to you? Actually, I suppose, but never mind! After the show we stopped by the Grand Bohemian, where another friend, Chris Davis, was playing with a jazz quartet. Very cool stuff! We only stayed a half hour or so, because I knew I had a long two days ahead of me!

Back to New Orleans!

Remember, first we got food (priorities!), then were drawn to a completely funky sound on the Congo Square stage. Turned out to be a group called "Groove Academy" - not a school for musical adolescents, but a very tight, very fun 70's funk-disco group. We set up our chairs and enjoyed our food (and beverage) - nothing much was required of us by the music.

After a half hour or so, we went to the Acura stage (one of the 2 big ones) and I had my first discovery of the festival. (You folks probably know more of these people than I do, so most of these were discoveries. But several were REALLY discoveries - they were awesome!) Anyway, Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen. Wow! First of all, he's a Brit who has adopted New Orleans - weird. Always wears a hat, I believe to offset his impressive nose. Best of all, he's a keyboard player! Does sort of rock, blues, New Orleans-type music. Really, REALLY liked him - gonna get a CD! Kickin' band, too!

After him, we saw a bit of Rockin' Dopsie and the Zydeco Twisters on the same stage. Not quite as impressive. First of all, they were having some sound issues (hello, no bass?). Second, it wasn't until the third or fourth number that they actually did a Zydeco tune. They started with some straight rock and roll stuff, then a motown cover, then something else. The zydeco was fun, but I don't think they ever got past the sound issues. Plus, Jon Cleary was a tough act to follow!

The hardest part of the festival is deciding what to see. By watching these guys, I missed several other cool sounding groups - the most intriguing had to be the New Orleans Klezmer Allstars. Shame to miss that!

We went to the blues tent and listened to some of Tab Benoit. It was very . . . bluesy. Lynn is more of a fan than I, so that's when I went to get the crawfish etoufee. And I wasn't prepared for the most impressive, and sublime, performance I saw.

Terrance Blanchard, jazz trumpeter, in the jazz tent. Wow. He played with a group of young (early 20's) musicians, and he played music he composed for the Spike Lee documentary on Katrina. Simply unbelievably powerful. He has a rich sound, complete mastery of the instruments, incredible taste . . . I was in heaven!

We stuck around to listen to some of the Pharoah Sanders Quartet - straight-ahead jazz - but I was done after Terrance. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a CD of the performance. (Some performances were recorded, and you could get a CD at the festival. Many weren't recorded due to licensing issues.)

Sunday started perfectly - in addition to the beignets and coffee, that is. The Julliard Jazz Ensemble. I was completely blown away! A quintet, with the professor playing sax, and the other 4 musicians (trombone and rhythm section) students. What players! Mature beyond their years! And they performed all original pieces, written by the students, and the last one by the professor. Again, I wish I could've gotten a recording. If my high school kids could see what's possible in a couple of years . . .

We then did some walking around (and eating), and set up our chairs for the New Orleans Social Club. This was a fun, rocking, FUN group with Willie Tee, Leo Nocentelli, Dr. John (you knew he had to show up!), and my OTHER big revelation: Henry Butler. Henry Butler is a blind pianist from New Orleans, and he's GREAT! When he took the stage (we couldn't see the stage or any of the big screens), he played a great piece with the band where he just did a piano solo. Only afterwards did we find out he had actually been singing, but he mic was out! I don't know, I kinda liked it as an instrumental! Anyway, Henry Butler is another CD I'm going to get!

Lynn took in some of George Thorogood and the Destroyers in the blues tent. WAY too full! I could hear just fine by the beignet tent!

We ended the festival with Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra. They ended with a piece written by Mayfield after his dad died in Katrina. Incredibly touching piece, with Mayfield on trumpet. Very nice way to end.

Then off to the airport, sweaty, stinky, and happy! (Don't remember the other 4 dwarves!)

Next: Rock'n'Bowl and other cultural landmarks!

JazzFest, Part 3: Rock'n'Bowl

2008-01-20T15:34:00.001-05:00

The official name is Mid-City Lanes. In Mid-City. Go figure.

Saturday night we ended up walking down Bourbon street, basically so I said I did. I don't much care for it, definitely NOT my scene, and that's not where the music was. But now I can say I did it. And I just did.

But BEFORE that, THAT was the fun! (Bon temps!) Mid-City Lanes used to have a downstairs as well as an upstairs. Katrina changed that, so you walk in, and there's the stairway up, and a $20.00 cover. Turned out to be the best twenty bucks of the trip.

We arrived absurdly early, especially for New Orleans. A bit before 9. The music was supposed to start at 8:30. This being New Orleans, nobody was too concerned about that! The band was soundchecking. While we waited we had an ample bowl of red beans and rice, and an Abita (which tastes MUCH better local!).

There were three bands on tap for the evening: Kermit Ruffins & the BBQ Swingers, Bonerama (a brass funk band from New Orleans made up of five trombones and a tuba!), and another local, Bo Dollis and the Wild Magnolias. In order of desire to see them, it was Bonerama (I mean, c'mon!), Kermit, and the Wild Magnolias. When we learned the first band was Bo Dollis, I've got to admit, I was a bit disappointed. Basically because I was already wiped out from the day of travel and sun, and I knew I wasn't going to last long.

I couldn't be more wrong.

Bo Dollis started, and the room just started jumping! He's a "Big Chief" Mardi Gras indian, with a big headdress and everything! They ended their set with TWO chiefs on stage, full feathers and all - what a sight! And the music was phenomenal! And the band was . . . interesting. The lead guitarist was older and looked a bit like the japanese cop on Barney Miller. The keyboard player, once we settled the argument over whether it was a he or she, looked a bit like Chick Corea in the 70's. (It was a he.) And they had bass, drums, and a guy playing the bass drum. Just the bass drum. Like they do in Brazillian samba schools, actually. (Did I mention I played for a year in a Brazillian percussion group? But I digress . . .)

But this is the Rock'n'BOWL - so we bowled a couple of games! They had a couple of big screens over the alleys so you could see the band. And what a crummy bowling alley it was! Every ball had chips and divots in it. The ball return had no lid. The lanes were so greasy (how greasy were they?), they were so greasy your fingers were black after the first frame. And, honestly, our lane was slanted to the right. That's the only thing that can explain where my ball kept going. Really! (But I won.)

After the games, back up to the floor. Not really a dance floor. Really, it was a very small bowling alley, with a little stage at one end. There ended up being a couple of hundred people there, very close together. Which made Fred Astaire that much more annoying.

There's an etiquitte about these kinds of places, I think: When there's that many people, you can dance if you want to (you HAD to move, the music was so good!), but you only get so much real estate to move in. Not so with Gene Kelly.

Here's this geeky white guy (sorry, but it's relevant!) and his wife SWING dancing around the "dance" floor! He looked like he worked for Cisco Systems, or maybe HP or something. No pocket protector, but, hey, he WAS out on the town, after all! Swing dancing is great IF (1) you have some control over your body, and (2) it's SWING MUSIC! So Michael Jackson kept running into me, and everybody around him. So did Ginger Rogers, but nobody seemed to mind THAT. There was another couple swing dancing in the back of the house, but they actually KNEW what they were doing! Eventually, I just moved to the other side of the room.

So Bo Dollis finishes, and now Kermit comes up. He had been hanging out at the bar knocking a few back. Well, that meant that I wouldn't see Bonerama, 'cause I was already yawning (I'm such a lightweight!). Kermit is a New Orleans institution, sort of the cultural heir of Louis Armstrong (especially once he started singing). And I'm sure he's normally really good. But his sound SUCKED! Keyboard was WAY too hot, bass was o.k., and little or no guitar. And trumpet whenever Kermit remembered to play into the mic. (That wasn't such a big deal, the room was so small you could hear the trumpet - the vocals were lost a lot, though.) I could tell I was only going to be able to take it for a while.

And then Nureyev pulled his bride over to MY side of the room and started up again! Swing your partner BAM!! Sorry! Little spin SMACK!! Oops giggle giggle . . . I was out of there!

And I walk out the door and there's an ambulance there. Hmm. Seems a Dutch fellow was dancing when his blood pressure dropped. Off he goes. The police officer commented, "They're supposed to be big partiers, I thought!"

Ah, the Rock'n'Bowl! A cultural institution! Seriously, if you get to NOLA, go there! You'll have a great time!

Adieu!

JazzFest, Part 4: Random Thoughts

2008-01-20T15:33:00.003-05:00

The crowd at JazzFest was one of the more civil crowds you'll see at a festival. Even with the drinking, nobody got belligerent or nasty - everyone was just there for good times and good music.

On the flight back, the flight safety video said "A liferaft may be stored in the middle of the plane." MAY be? You're not sure? What, we're going to have to look, then, "Oh, that's right, it's not ACTUALLY there!"

New Orleans is recovering - but incredibly slowly! Major parts of the city (not even counting the lower 9th) are still as they were after the flood. Insurance companies don't want to pay. Money has disappeared ("where'd the money go?"), there's corruption at every level, etc.

I love the above-ground cemeteries - the history is that much more visible.

DON'T use the porta-potties!!! Use the bathrooms in the clubhouse building!

Music has powers.

Peace,

Under The Sea

2008-01-20T15:30:00.003-05:00

I really enjoy submarine movies.

The Hunt for Red October, Das Boot (pronounced "Boat," as any good Germanophile knows), The Enemy Below, Crimson Tide, Run Silent, Run Deep. Heck, I even enjoyed "Down Periscope" with Kelsey Grammar and Rob Schneider!

And, just to get it out of the way, it has nothing to do with 200 men crammed into a giant phallus. Save your psychologies.

But I've been wondering why I enjoy them. Perhaps it's a guy thing; most of us like action or adventure movies, war movies, that kind of thing. I think one reason is the importance of strategy. You effectively have no eyes, you rely on sound (another relevant point for a musician), and there's always some sort of cat-and-mouse game afoot. But there's a special place for submariners in the order of things. They may go months at a time without seeing sunlight, more than a year before seeing land again, and there's that nagging feeling that, one little hole, and the whole thing will crumple up like a beer can on John Belushi's head. So there's a greater sense of discipline, of dedication, and duty. (Like that? 3 D's!)

Which seems like an appropriate place to wrap this up, on this 4th of July. No matter your feelings about any particular mission or war, let's appreciate those who have dedicated their lives to something greater than themselves, and put themselves in harm's way, in an effort to protect others from that harm.

Happy July 4th!