Jazz Review: Kenny Barron and Stefon Harris at Bucknell University

This is a concert review written for a class I am taking at Bucknell University, taught by the incomparable Phil Haynes. It reviews a concert given by jazz masters Stefon Harris and Kenny Barron on campus; for those of you that do not know, the dazzling, international-caliber jazz performances that take place regularly at Bucknell are the University's and sleepy-Lewisburg's best kept secret. There is the often extraordinary "Janet Weis Cabaret Jazz" series (Of which the Stefon-Barron concert was a member) that takes place the last Wednesday of each month during the semester, and Haynes's always mind-blowing "Jazz at Bucknell" series (first Wednesday of each month) that has featured such innovators as Bill Carrothers, Robin Eubanks, Phil Markowitz and Jane Ira Bloom.

Because I couldn't find any acceptable footage of Kenny Barron and Stefon Harris playing together, I have posted two videos of them each playing separately with their own combos. Take the time to watch them all the way through; I am sure you won't regret it.

Kenny Barron and Stefon Harris
Bucknell University’s Natalie Davis Rooke Recital Hall, Lewisburg, Pennsylvania
Janet Weis Cabaret Jazz Series: October 29, 2008, 8:00

The performance of piano institution Kenny Barron and the young vibraphone virtuoso Stefon Harris at Bucknell University was a startlingly impressive meeting of two jazz giants, a performance expansive in its enormous musical scope and dazzling in its astounding display of musicianship. Amidst the setting of explosive bebop and profound balladry a narrative emerged, a clear image of the passion and exuberance of the youthful Harris contrasting the calm stoicism of the elderly Barron, illustrated by their differing sounds and improvisational styles as well as by their radically different demeanors onstage. Harris is a player who, like the naive protagonist of a John Hughes film, can be said to wear his heart-on-his-sleeve, investing entirely in each grimace, each verbal utterance, and each dramatic and devastating movement of his body as he creates each note, moving in abrupt, violent lunges that contort his whole torso as he plays, perpetually darting from each end of the vibraphone and marimba onstage. His movements are like those of a boxer, a complex series of jabs, jerks and fakes given context by the impassioned twisting of his face and tightening of his eyelids as he pours every ounce of youthful romanticism into each stroke of his mallets, his strong voice echoing his improvisations in pleading, broken tones that quiver as he sings. Young romance incarnate, an all-consuming liquid passion that gushes from his every pore as his heart bleeds and his body aches, his passion Biblical in its desperation. Contrastingly, Barron is a reserved portrait of mature musicianship, playing with a quiet, collected passion only allowed to burst forth under the careful scrutiny and precise allowance of a rational musician. He is no less emotional, but infinitely more controlled, sacrificing the spontaneity and heartbreaking honestly of Harris for the suave sophistication and intellectual clarity of a seasoned musician who can rationalize as well as react. This obvious contrast was evident in this performance even in the way they interacted with the crowd, Barron preferring to deliver the obligatory thank-you’s and introductions with layers of gracious cool and an Ellingtonian dignity, while Harris preferred to amuse, speaking loudly and bombastically, cracking jokes and telling stories with the enthusiasm of a child, and when he felt the sopping streaks of his shirt after the energetic first number and looked to the motherly Janet Weis sitting in the first row, it was with a facetious boyish innocence that he cautiously asked to remove his jacket onstage.

The second tune of the evening, an excruciatingly heartfelt rendition of Sting’s slow waltz “Until...”, was a Harris contribution to the set, a tune he noticeably delighted in introducing with a humorous and candid tale of his own marriage and on which he played beautifully, building his melodic solo with the earthy murmur of the marimba and the shining metallic laughter of the vibraphone, his emotive lines drenched in the bittersweet meaning of his deliberate melodrama. Barron supported the young mallet virtuoso with his characteristic poise and grace, breathing a subtle maturity, a cautious skepticism into the reckless emotion that boiled from Harris’s mallets. If Harris was the youthful lover barring his fragile soul through his rippling melancholy melodies, Barron was the paternal safety net, the warm security of home and family that laid itself out in discrete layers of cushioned harmony below the young man’s soul-searching naiveté. Ultimately, it was Harris who lifted the song to its billowing climax, pushing against and prying at the simple atmospheric melody until it became the moving and transformative piece of music he made of it, but it was Barron who caught him as he collided with that delirious point of desperate creation, harnessing his passion in the midst of that intoxicating power and allowing him to gracefully deflate, laying him gently down with dense piano arpeggios that were simultaneously a grateful congratulation and a grandfatherly reassurance, a solid re-grounding of the dreaming artist in the coolheaded intellectualism and predictable inevitability of the tune. The effect was staggering, a breathtaking illustration of the familial dynamic of the duo, and a moment of musical honesty as profound as it was virtuosic.

The two performed a pleasingly neurotic interpretation of Thelonious Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” as the evening’s encore, a tune that fell neatly into Barron’s legacy of intricate bebop pianism. The duo played with an air of relaxed humor and good-natured teasing that had been lost amid the meaningfulness of the evening, playing the typically Monk-ish head in an exaggeratedly careening fashion that made both men laugh onstage-- Harris with a loud excited giggle and Barron with a reserved smile and a few audible exhalations, both men looking across stage at one another with a shared mischief in their eyes. They soloed with similarly exaggerated quirkiness, Barron percussively striking the keyboard with a single pointed finger in Monk’s oddly charismatic way, and Harris waving his arms haphazardly and striking keys with the intervallic insanity of Monk’s most manic of improvisations. When the two traded fours at the end of the tune before the reentry of the head, it was with the same fiery competition of Rollins and Coltrane on “Tenor Madness”, Harris unraveling chaotic lines of athletic intensity as Barron effortlessly matched his speed and power with assertive sixteenth note runs brushed gracefully from the keys. “Economy of motion, kid,” he said wordlessly with his smile.

Before the playful bop competitiveness of Monk’s tune, however, Barron and Harris closed their intended set with the mournful “Requiem for Milt”, Harris’s achingly poignant epitaph for his idol Milt Jackson. Harris played this simple, understated melody with a dignity and solemnity not seen in the unself-conscious extraversion of the evening’s previous playing, allowing the calloused chime of the vibraphone to ring through the high-ceilinged hall, quivering in cold, metallic layers of grief-- the smooth, masculine sorrow of a dignified man. Barron accompanied with cautious, respectful distance, allowing Harris to maintain the solitary religiosity and personal revelation of the moment. For those few excruciating moments, the young musician stood alone in the center of the stage, head bowed and feet stationary for the first time of the evening, a thoroughly modern musician paying homage to his creative fathers.

The musical relationship between jazz masters Kenny Barron and Stefon Harris is one of intense mutual respect and affection, evidenced in the amusement and delight the elder shows in the exuberant energy of his young protégé, as well as the reverence with which the younger treats his mentor. Their shared performance that Wednesday evening was not one of struggle or of generational competition, but one of incredible sensitivity and musical brotherhood, a sonic snapshot of two extraordinary musicians creating, for a few nocturnal hours, their fleeting collage, their immaterial masterpiece of beautiful sound.

Brilliance

Read it.

The Williamsport Guardian: B.B King and Cold War Kids

MANDATORY MENTION: As mentioned earlier, I write bi-monthly music reviews for a local independent newspaper, The Williamsport Guardian, typically reviewing several albums each column, as well as commenting on local musical performances and events. Because I've been receiving a lot of requests for these reviews, and as far as I can tell they are not as yet published online, I've decided to begin posting them here. The newspaper itself is always well-written, attractive, and full of interesting insights-- AND free-- so be sure to grab a copy if you notice it some where.

B.B King: One Kind Favor

The new album from legendary bluesman B.B King, One Kind Favor, is a melancholy meditation on the inevitable arrival of death, a poignant statement of gratitude and uncertainty from the 83-year-old master of the blues. The “one kind favor” of the title is stated in the first track, supported by the slithering percussion and frank lyrics of Blind Lemon Jefferson’s own musing on mortality, in which King repeatedly pleads a reluctant lover to “see that my grave is kept clean”. King’s own guitar is conspicuously absent from the arrangement until a characteristically terse solo toward the end of the tune, only occasionally augmenting his lyrics with licks that seem weary and reluctant, even sickly, in their delivery. His power is again on display almost immediately, though, in “I Get So Weary”, a surprisingly upbeat song that seems to be more about the sorrows of old age than the absence of a spiteful lover.

The arrangements, overseen by producer T. Bone Burnet, are all characteristic of King’s style: large, open palettes featuring the energetic drive of a horn section and the open-ended murmurings of organ and piano. The piano in this case is played masterfully by New Orleans musician Dr. John, a clear devotee of King’s who is both reverent and complimentary in his accompaniment style. King delivers his characteristically reserved, emotive solos frequently throughout the disk, playing as eloquently on upbeat numbers as on slow, morose ones, and with an obvious sense of melancholy not as apparent in the youthful energy of his earlier work.

As is the prerogative of blues singers, King refers to the ambiguous “baby” throughout the album, often in a mournful or accusatory way, but always with a pleading sense of powerlessness. In the slow shuffle of the minor key “Get These Blues Of Me”, King begs an unnamed loved one not to be angry “because I’ve gone away”, and intones “I’m just so tired of worrying, I don’t know what to do”. And when he apologizes in his deep, brooding voice as his guitar roars beneath him, and confesses his fear at what is to come, one can’t help but feel that he is speaking to himself. And when he takes the voice of a deceased lover on the album’s final tune “Haunted House”, singing “I may be dead and gone/But I’ll always be by your side”, one can’t help but feel that he is speaking to us, assuring us of his continued gratitude and reminding us of the indelible footprint he has left modern music. One Kind Favor, though as upbeat and entertaining as any of B.B King’s recordings, is a meaningful artifact of one man’s fear in the face of death, and his wonder at the fragility of life.


Cold War Kids: Loyalty to Loyalty

Cold War Kids play a style of rock music characterized by blues-inflected vocals and a distinctly rural perspective on songwriting, creating loose, multi-sectional songs that seem to careen from one idea to the next in a guttural way full of energy, charisma, and surprising sensitivity. Lyrically, they paint bleak portraits of desperate characters, again taking a deliberately non-urban approach to hardship and poverty, a tactic that is refreshing in its honesty and unique in its insightfulness. Sonically, they seem less concerned with writing traditionally organized rock and roll songs than with shaping textures through their sparse instrumentation and use of ambient sounds, creating songs that are more similar to sonic snapshots than coherent, identifiable pieces of music. Coming from a group with less sincerity, these songs would seem amateurish rather than profound, but in this way Cold War Kids make music that is similar to “found art”, creating their “found” songs from sounds and stories that exist around them, and ultimately molding their environment into a work of art.

On their newest album, Loyalty to Loyalty, Cold War Kids continue this tradition, molding the sounds of blues, folk music, and gospel into a back-woods, truck-stop kind of rock that is beautifully eerie and constantly unsettling. In the atmospheric “Every Man I Fall For”, singer Nathan Willett murmurs quietly over a dark, sultry web of heavily-reverbed guitar and insistent drums, telling the story of a woman left broken by her attraction to danger (“Every man I fall for drinks his coffee black/’Love’ and ‘Hate’ are tattooed on his knuckles and my name is on his back”). Throughout the album, Cold War Kids reveal an intense fascination with the darkness of society and the animalism of humanity, but also a redeeming sense of compassion for the characters they portray. This juxtaposition of light and dark, despair and sensitivity, make Loyalty to Loyalty an intense, profound document of an effortlessly innovative band making rock music that is as vital as it is poetic.

The Williamsport Guardian: Jack and Ben Wright at Raytown

MANDATORY MENTION: As mentioned earlier, I write bi-monthly music reviews for a local independent newspaper, The Williamsport Guardian, typically reviewing several albums each column, as well as commenting on local musical performances and events. Because I've been receiving a lot of requests for these reviews, and as far as I can tell they are not as yet published online, I've decided to begin posting them here. The newspaper itself is always well-written, attractive, and full of interesting insights-- AND free-- so be sure to grab a copy if you notice it some where.

Jack and Ben Wright at Raytown w/ “Black Marble” and Seth Olinski
June 3, 2008

Calculated chaos reverberated through one of Raytown’s wooden rooms last Tuesday, when underground free jazz legend Jack Wright performed with his son Ben, filling the room with their unique style of transcendent free jazz. The elder Wright played his saxophone with the irreverence characteristic of a master performer, showing little interest in traditional saxophone techniques and instead opting to dismantle and reassemble his horn throughout the performance, pushing air through cavities and tunnels not typically used. Similarly, Ben Wright showed no qualms about playing his bass in unusual manners, vehemently slapping the strings, percussively striking the body of the instrument, and calmly bowing the plastic tailpiece. Through this medley of unusual movement emerged ornate tapestries of abstract sound, the musicians focusing not on the obvious musical devices of predictable melody and classical rhythm, but rather on the more sincere tools of call-and-response and musical communication. As the two musicians played, there were obvious reactions to one another, Jack Wright echoing moods or motifs in his son’s playing, just as Ben did the same in response to his father’s unique saxophone lines. One of the most sublime moments of the performance came when local guitarist Seth Olinski (Akron/Family) joined the Wrights for a final piece at the end of the night, treating his acoustic guitar with the same kind of irreverence, and using metal and glass slides, along with a section of cork, to coax broad, sweeping sounds from his instrument. Olinski found the sonic middle ground between Ben Wright’s kinetic rumble and Jack Wright’s impassioned roar, highlighting and ornamenting their sound with observations and responses of his own.

Entirely improvised music of any kind is a rarity in this area, particularly improvised music of this esteem and caliber. Jack Wright began his career as a saxophonist in the improvised music scene of Philadelphia, honing his skill and cementing his artistic vision in the nightclubs and music venues of the East Coast. After a career in academia during the 1960’s and a stint working in radical politics during the 1970’s, he began a string of North American and European tours with various collaborators and sidemen, bringing improvised music to the small towns and villages of the United States and Canada, earning the moniker the “Johnny Appleseed of Improvised Music”. As one of the most respected free jazz improvisers performing today, it is an extraordinary honor to have hosted him in Williamsport, and to have had the opportunity to experience his music.

Opening for these free jazz innovators was Black Marble, a local folk duo consisting of Alex Callenberger and Lena Yeagle, both gifted musicians and songwriters writing and performing within the idioms of modern folk and ambient music. The multilayered sound of their harmonized singing echoed through the wide, wooden room, interacting neatly with Callenberger’s artful guitar and Yeagle’s majestic violin lines. The artistry of their compositions is illuminated through the use of their opposite voices, as well as the opposing timbres of their respective instruments, creating a diversity of sound and a broader sonic spectrum than is normally expected in a duo. Innovators in a much different but equally important way, their contrasting musical style was an interesting and appropriate way to set the stage for the extraordinary improvisations of Jack and Ben Wright.

The Williamsport Guardian: Kayo Dot and Erykah Badu

MANDATORY MENTION: As mentioned earlier, I write bi-monthly music reviews for a local independent newspaper, The Williamsport Guardian, typically reviewing several albums each column, as well as commenting on local musical performances and events. Because I've been receiving a lot of requests for these reviews, and as far as I can tell they are not as yet published online, I've decided to begin posting them here. The newspaper itself is always well-written, attractive, and full of interesting insights-- AND free-- so be sure to grab a copy if you notice it some where.

Kayo Dot: Blue Lambency Downward (July 2008)

The intricate arrangements and avant-garde musicality of the incomparable Kayo Dot are beautifully evident in their latest release, the artfully innovative Blue Lambency Downward. The daring fragility and beautiful delicacy of their unconventional pieces, less songs then aural explorations, elaborate experiments in musical sound, give their work an awe-inspiring quality, an epic element that far from making their complex music dense or uninviting, creates a level of beauty that lures a listener in from the first seconds of seductive sound. When faced with these ornate sonic collages, genre seems an irrelevancy and classification an insult, as each piece swells to include aspects of rock, ambient music, free jazz, and classical music, functioning beautifully within each idiom before evolving again into something new.

The second song on this seven-song disk is the alternately tranquil and frenetic “Clelia Walking”, a six-minute barrage of musical styles that is constantly changing, morphing into contrasting musical ideas. It begins with contemplative electric guitar, made heavy by layers of reverb, then incorporates traces of free jazz with the uninterested mumblings of a saxophone before dissolving into a swirling section of distorted guitar and pulsating drums. The song goes on to include sections of calm violins and classical serenity, as well as further experiments with meandering saxophones and ornate guitar, each punctuated by startling segments of dissonant abstraction. This kind of daring innovation is present throughout the album, from the atmospheric uneasiness of the title track to the orchestral arrangement and sonic interplay of the final track, “Symmetrical Arizona”.

Kayo Dot’s latest album is an astounding musical achievement, a record working outside of confining musical styles and instead crafting an entirely unique sound. Chief composer Toby Driver’s decidedly unpolished voice appears regularly throughout the album, adding a vulnerable humanity to the seemingly godlike breadth of his compositions, demonstrating the people behind the innovation and the emotion behind the sonic virtuosity of his music.


Erykah Badu: New Amerykah Part 1 (4th World War)

Erykah’s Badu’s silky, sarcastic voice has been compared to the tuneful sneer of jazz great Billie Holiday, and her vibrant, kinetic music has been classified as “neo-soul”. Blending influences as diverse as modern soul and acid-jazz with hip-hop and Egyptian chant, Badu and her team of producers build slow-moving, atmospheric grooves that span across songs and defy traditional verse-chorus classifications. Often these grooves are lulling and cathartic, open palettes for Badu’s vocals to settle into and spar with, but sometimes become repetitious and exhausting, as on the overwrought “Master Teacher.” Far outnumbering the occasional moments of banality, however, are beautiful moments of musical profundity which solidify the record’s message and demonstrate the talents of its creators.

One of the most profound moments of the album comes at the end of the contemplative “Me”, in which the glossy sheen of modern production is stripped away, leaving only Badu’s unadorned voice singing in unison with a single trumpet, her voice naked and tearful as it stumbles and falters, straining to keep up with the horn’s long, jazz-inflected phrases. Here, and throughout the album, Badu spins tales of innocence lost and childhoods wasted, mourning the lives spent wary and afraid in American ghettos and the deaths brushed off and forgotten by a calloused system of economic oppression. An anonymous male poet shouts angrily at the end of “Twinkle”, a seven minute indictment of urban violence and government ignorance, shouting desperately at the world around him, demanding that his listeners “get mad...and say ‘I’m a human being, dammit! My life has value!” His impassioned words, ornamented by quivering organ and molded by cavernous reverb, contrast sharply with the jubilant profanity and sounds of breaking glass that begin the tune, providing a aural snapshot, a sonic collage that, miraculously, doesn’t sound false or contrived.

The true genius of Badu lies in her courage, in her willingness to take lyrical and musical risks as she creates a broad, cinematic soundscape, a sonic illustration of black life in America-- an angry diatribe of disillusionment and alienation, but one recited with the reverence and sensitivity of a mature artist who can rationalize as well as react. As she proves throughout the record’s eleven songs, she is not out to display her vocal virtuosity as other soul divas have, but rather to craft profound, evocative songs and lyrical images, even diminishing her own vocal abilities when it is necessary to reveal the person underneath. Her readiness to remove the cushions surrounding her singing to reveal the imperfections of her voice is admirable, as is the unabashed candidness of her cultural lyrics. On New Amerykah Part 1, Badu again demonstrates her impressive vocal chops and lyrical sensibilities, as well as creates a continual groove, a seamless experience without gaps or silences, deftly representing the constant barrage of sound and imagery that assails her as a black, urban woman.

The Williamsport Guardian: Kaki King and The Raconteurs

As mentioned earlier, I write bi-monthly music reviews for a local independent newspaper, The Williamsport Guardian, typically reviewing several albums each column, as well as commenting on local musical performances and events. Because I've been receiving a lot of requests for these reviews, and as far as I can tell they are not as yet published online, I've decided to begin posting them here. The newspaper itself is always well-written, attractive, and full of interesting insights-- AND free-- so be sure to grab a copy if you notice it some where. Anyway, here goes:

Kaki King: Dreaming of Revenge (May 2008)

Kaki King’s innovative approach to guitar playing—percussively striking the strings and body of the instrument as well as incorporating techniques typically associated with the electric guitar into her acoustic playing—is shadowed only by her innate melodic sensibility, allowing her to create music of staggering beauty while at the same time displaying her technical virtuosity. On her newest album, the dazzling Dreaming of Revenge, King explores areas of sonic experimentation only hinted at by her past endeavors, incorporating strings, electric guitar, and vocals into her largely acoustic music. Unexpectedly, from this experimentation emerges the most accessible album of King’s career, the dramatic strings and deft guitar playing joining to create music that defies typical industry classification, but remains uniquely melodic and approachable. Like her 2006 album, ...Until We Felt Red, Dreaming of Revenge sees less of King’s characteristically percussive acoustic guitar, and more of her virtuosic fingerstyle playing, employing the rich sounds of undistorted electric guitars in pieces such as the plaintive “Can Anyone Who Has Heard This Music Really Be a Bad Person” and the atmospheric “Sad American”, sacrificing her typical displays of technical prowess for the more solemn illustrations of melodic motifs. Her technical virtuosity is represented, however, as throughout the album there are dazzling displays of instrumental inventiveness and technical skill, most notably in the excited “I Need a Girl Who Knows a Map”, a three-minute guitar opus that sees King revisiting her characteristic techniques of frenetic fingerstyle and percussive tapping, showcasing both the technical artistry of her playing and the inspiration of her compositions.

Though her shy, self-conscious voice has been present in her music since 2004’s Legs to Make Us Longer, King really emerges as a singer on this disk, lending her plaintive, wavering voice to several songs, including the more traditional acoustic ballad “Life Being What it Is”, a striking departure from her regular repertoire that finds King singing delicately over a bed of acoustic guitar, arpeggiating softly while occasional organ flourishes and slide lines highlight the fragility of the arrangement. King sings with the reluctance and insecurity of an untrained vocalist, her quavering, uncontrolled singing lending innocence and authenticity to her calm, confident guitar playing. On the melancholy “Saving Days in a Frozen Head”, King layers her voice in the same way she layers her guitars throughout the album, creating delicate harmonies that settle softly over her carefully orchestrated guitar.

Though revisiting some of the musical ideas she has explored in the past, Kaki King remains refreshingly original, combining influences as diverse as electronica, folk, and ambient music with virtuosic mastery of her instrument to create music that defies typical song structure and industry expectations. Dreaming of Revenge is a document of a master working within her art, making music that is astoundingly unique and compositionally innovative, but also entirely approachable and comprehensible, and with none of the usual esotericism of other avant-garde artists.


The Raconteurs: Consolers of the Lonely

Like their debut album Broken Boy Soldiers, the Raconteurs continue their campaign of garage rock revival on Consolers of the Lonely, again combining the pop sensibilities of Brendan Benson with the raw modern blues and off-color humor of Jack White. When coupled with the band’s explosive rhythm section, this odd pairing leads to the bombastic humor of “The Switch and the Spur”, an ironically dramatic ballad that employs mariachi trumpets and mournful piano, as well as to the sparse blues of “Top Yourself”, an impassioned Delta shuffle modernized through White’s scratchy distortion. The title track, a mismatched collection of conflicting riffs and opposing personalities, is deliberately careless in its composition, celebrating its indecisiveness with aggressive drums and heavily distorted guitar, the radically different voices of White and Benson playfully conversing with one another through conflicting melodies and skewed lyrics. The organ-dominated “Rich Kid Blues” sarcastically laments the unique plight of a man who’s never known hardship, cycling through energetic garage rock, Allman Brothers influenced improvisation, and weary blues. The adventurous ballad “Carolina Drama” is cinematic in its scope and daring in its musicality, as overdriven slide lines and dramatic organ surges complement the raw, sneering quality of White’s vocal before dissolving into the eerie sensitivity of the refrain, then intensifying as White continues his story of violence and revenge.

Although never taking themselves too seriously, the Raconteurs have again created a unique experiment in modern blues and early rock-and-roll, infusing their musical experimentation with swatches of humor and playfulness. Consolers of the Lonely is a bold step towards merging the musical traditions of an antique generation with the standards and conventions of contemporary music, modernizing the classic blues and rock-and-roll of a lost era through biting distortion, impressive musicianship, and the melodic sensibilities of pop music.

November 29: Billy Strayhorn and "Lush Life"

It was 93 years ago today, on November 29, 1915, that great American composer, songwriter, and Ellington collaborator Billy Strayhorn was born in Hillsborough North Carolina. Gay, black, and brilliant in a society intolerant of all three, Strayhorn grew up alienated and dejected, discovering peace and comfort in his grandmother's piano and Victrola records. As an adult, even the world of music betrayed him, as his race proved an insurmountable barrier to his success in the white world of classical music. His rescue came in the form of the innovative virtuosity of pianists like Art Tatum and Errol Garner, and in the joyful, liberating sounds of orchestras like Fletcher Henderson's famed ensemble. He was especially enchanted by the suave sophistication of Duke Ellington and his orchestra, and after speaking with Ellington and sharing with him some of his music, the famed bandleader feel under the spell of the gifted young composer. This proved the start of a decades-long collaboration that would produce some of the most innovative and enduring music of the era, including the tune that would become as close to theme as the Ellington orchestra ever had: Strayhorn's own "Take the A Train". Strayhorn's reserved, quiet calm was the antithesis of Ellington's flamboyant cool; Strayhorn was shy and intellectual, homosexual and a loner, while Ellington was social and boisterous, a lady's man whose personal and professional relationships defined his life. But the men found an eerily perfect connection in the music they both loved, and the two geniuses shared an intense emotional love fed by their shared creativity and shared passion. Said Ellington of Strayhorn, "[He is] my right arm, my left arm, all the eyes in the back of my head, my brain waves are in his head, and his are in mine."

While still a teenager, and years before his tenure with Ellington, Strayhorn penned the heartbreaking ballad "Lush Life", a musically and lyrically sophisticated tune heartbreaking in its devastating honesty. Posted below is the John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman version of the tune, a beautiful recording and poignant tribute to one of America's great geniuses. (The picture shown in the clip is largely irrelevant.)



"I used to visit all the very gay places
Those come what may places
Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life
To get the feel of life...
From jazz and cocktails.

The girls I knew had sad and sullen gray faces
With distant gay traces
That used to be there; you could see where they'd been washed away
By too many through the day...
Twelve o'clock tales.

Then you came along with your siren song
To tempt me to madness!
I thought for a while that your poignant smile was tinged with the sadness
Of a great love for me.

Ah yes! I was wrong...
Again, I was wrong.

Life is lonely again,
And only last year everything seemed so sure.
Now life is awful again,
A troughful of hearts could only be a bore.
A week in paris will ease the bite of it,
All I care is to smile in spite of it.

I'll forget you, I will
While yet you are still burning inside my brain.
Romance is mush,
Stifling those who strive.
I'll live a lush life in some small dive...
And there I'll be, while I rot
With the rest of those whose lives are lonely, too..

Romance is mush,
Stifling those who strive.
I'll live a lush life in some small dive...
And there I'll be, while I rot
With the rest of those whose lives are lonely, too.."

Thanksgiving 2008

Thanksgiving is a shining example of what Howard Zinn calls "American exceptionalism", a concept that states that by the sheer goodness of our nation all its deeds are acceptable and necessary, regardless as to how atrocious. This exceptionalism is the erroneous mindset that allows us to ignore our centuries-long history of genocide toward Native Americans and instead celebrate our fictitious "brotherhood and cooperation" with a national holiday, and in fact is the same belief that allows us to think that we will be "greeted as liberators" upon invading a sovereign nation. It is similar to the "divine right of kings" endorsed by monarchical Europe that similarly led to genocide and fearsome oppression. Howard Zinn describes "American exceptionalism" as it relates to Thanksgiving by recounting the events of the Plymouth settlers (whom American school kids learn incorrectly to call "Pilgrims") and the Pequot tribe (known similarly incorrectly as "Indians") just one year after the first Thanksgiving. From "The Power and the Glory", in the Boston Review:

The notion of American exceptionalism—that the United States alone has the right, whether by divine sanction or moral obligation, to bring civilization, or democracy, or liberty to the rest of the world, by violence if necessary—is not new. It started as early as 1630 [one year after the first Thanksgiving] in the Massachusetts Bay Colony when Governor John Winthrop uttered the words that centuries later would be quoted by Ronald Reagan. Winthrop called the Massachusetts Bay Colony a 'city upon a hill.' Reagan embellished a little, calling it a 'shining city on a hill.'

The idea of a city on a hill is heartwarming. It suggests what George Bush has spoken of: that the United States is a beacon of liberty and democracy. People can look to us and learn from and emulate us.

In reality, we have never been just a city on a hill. A few years after Governor Winthrop uttered his famous words, the people in the city on a hill moved out to massacre the Pequot Indians. Here's a description by William Bradford, an early settler, of Captain John Mason's attack on a Pequot village:

Those that escaped the fire were slain with the sword, some hewed to pieces, others run through with their rapiers, so as they were quickly dispatched and very few escaped. It was conceived that they thus destroyed about 400 at this time. It was a fearful sight to them thus frying in the fire and the streams of blood quenching the same, and horrible was the stink and scent thereof; but the victory seemed a sweet sacrifice, and the gave the praise thereof to God; who had wrought so wonderfully for them, thus to enclose their enemies in their hands and give them so speedy a victory over so proud and insulting an enemy.

November 27, 2008: 20 Years After Harvey Milk

“If a bullet should go through my head, let that bullet go through every closet door.”

~Harvey Milk

"Without hope, not only gays, but those who are blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors-- the us-es. Without hope the us-es give up. I know that you can't live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you, and you have got to give them hope."

-Harvey Milk, 1978

Wikipedia: Harvey Milk
TIME 100 Heros: Harvey Milk

November 16: Seven years after Tommy Flanagan

Today marks the seventh anniversary of the death of pianist Tommy Flanagan, a preeminent talent and true "jazz poet" who remained one of the most respected pianists in the world from the chaos and testosterone of the 1950's to the modern sounds and free improvisation of the 1990's. Throughout his career, Flanagan supported such singers as Tony Bennet and Ella Fitzgerald with grace and beauty, led his own series of piano trios and two-piano duets with subtle darkness and graceful soloing, and famously gaffed John Coltrane's "Giant Steps" when asked to sightread the tune's prohibitively complex changes on the record date. Performing extensively as a sideman and as a leader, Flanagan left an important mark on the jazz piano tradition, cooling off and calming down the frenetic bebop of Bud Powell while maintaining the elegant swing and sophisticated musicianship of Ellington and Tatum.

Says critic Peter Watrous of the pianist's influential style (New York Times, September 3, 1992):

Mr. Flanagan, a preternaturally graceful pianist and one of jazz's finest improvisers, arranges his material to extract the fullest meaning from accents, breaks, unison bass and piano lines and metrical changes.

And of a set from the pianist at Condon's in August of 1992, he says:

...the 62-year-old Mr. Flanagan showed why he is considered a dean of jazz piano. He has absorbed a lifetime of jazz's tools, and his soloing reveled in ease and relaxation, even at faster tempos. Underneath the veneer, something darker was occurring. Mr. Flanagan is a master at swing, and he would vary his approach, from legato phrases to a sharply attacked series of notes... he casually flicked off notes, then moved into a set of phrases that curled at the edges, like burning paper, and that drove the band on.

Critic Pete Kelly (Jelly, 1997) sums up the pianist's uniquely transformative quality, saying:

...the ideas flow, chorus after chorus, song after song. It’s like reading a good book. Each song has its own shape and logic, its own pace of unfolding, its distinctive tone and feeling. Flanagan is the jazz musician as raconteur, a virtuoso with wit and imagination, an intellectual who likes to entertain, a historian who tells great stories. Imagine Spaulding Gray with a piano.

And imagine this. Flanagan live in Germany in 1991, ten years before his death in 2001. Watch and listen:

Doc Mach and the Field Surgeons: "This is Not a Bomb"

(To appear in The Williamsport Guardian, Fall-Winter 2008)

Doc Mach and the Field Surgeons: “This is Not a Bomb”
Album Release Show
Site B, October 25, 2008 w/ The Damage and Via Drive-Thru

Doc Mach and the Field Surgeons are a tremendous group of young musicians creating unabashedly innovative music in the Williamsport area. Their dense, multi-layered sound is characterized in part by the powerhouse drumming and rhythmic fearlessness of drummer Jeff Mach, the rock-steady pulse of bassist Joe Marchese, the lush and sensitive stylings of guitarist Deron Johnson, and, most obviously, the contrasting vocal styles of singers Josh Hines and Nico Salvatori. Hines sings with a trained voice that is alternately softly melodic and bombastically forceful, while Salvatori barks in an intense, authoritative shout that exudes youthful exuberance and righteous anger. The two singers blend their distinct voices artfully, creating a vocal sound larger than the style of one singer and more expansive than traditional vocal harmony, a deliberate sonic contrast that finds both singers weaving in and out of one another’s respective aural territories, creating an intricate tapestry of guttural roars and soaring melodicism.

This contrast between the primal and the elegant is a reoccurring theme throughout the band’s performances, as the graceful, sensitive playing of guitarist Deron Johnson locks with the solid heft and powerful momentum of the rhythm of section of Mach and Marchese. Jeff Mach is a drummer of both amazing intensity and intelligent musicianship, augmenting his solid, energetic rock style with a rare rhythmic intuition and complimenting the band’s musical unpredictability with abrupt dynamic changes and frequent, virtuosic fills that echo the rhythmic phrasing of Marchese and Salvatori. The power and energy he brings to the music have a profound effect on the other musicians, his playing lifting their own sonic constructions still higher as he violently urges the sound onward. Joe Marchese’s crisp basslines offer a steady pulse to the band’s constantly shifting music, providing an anchor for Mach’s rhythmic curiosity and lending Johnson’s melodic excursions a sense of grounding and rhythmic coherency. Marchese’s bass fills a similar role as would a second guitarist; far from simply doubling Johnson’s guitar lines, Marchese’s low-end rumble fills the sonic and harmonic space the guitar can not, adding an essential color to the band’s multi-layered sound.

Like Marchese, guitarist Deron Johnson plays artfully and melodically, avoiding the senselessly heavy distortion that is a crutch characteristic of other rock guitar players. Instead, he carefully cultivates his full, diverse tone, crafting a broad palette of moods and colors from a floor of effects, and when he solos, he solos not with the distorted scream of other guitarists but with a more evocative, cleaner tone: a lush, overdriven sound that cuts through the band’s dense arrangements in a much more effective manner than would a heavily distorted tone.

One of the most memorable moments of the album comes in the record’s adventurous closer, the eleven minute opus “From the Pulpit”, in which the layers of heavy guitar and waves of kinetic drumming abruptly fall away, leaving only Hines’s prayerful, fervent voice intoning wordlessly over a melancholy bed of soft piano and understated guitar. The tune progresses into a section in which Johnson plays alone, soloing over a sparse accompaniment created by loops, maintaining the delicacy and fragility of Hines’s harmonized song while adding a more obvious sense of urgent immediacy. Johnson plays with a warm, gentle tone that breaks and distorts as it sustains, crumbling and dissolving as it lingers over his own arpeggiated accompaniment-- a chillingly breathtaking soundscape of crumbling cities and cautious reverence that is as primal as it is sophisticated; the work of an artful and gifted musician. As this moment was recreated onstage, Johnson stepped forward while the rest of the band retreated slowly, Mach taking his sticks into one hand and exhaustedly leaning forward onto his snare drum, Marchese rested his weight on the sturdy frame of his bass as the singers slowly settled onto the drum riser, sitting cautiously as they caught their breath and brushed the hair from their faces. It was a lull in the performance, a portrait of the dignity and humanity of the band members as they rested briefly, a snapshot of incredible power sitting still and stationary. And when Mach reentered cautiously with a soft touch on the cymbals and Marchese followed solemnly, it was a graceful act of gratitude and congratulation, a demonstration of the band’s incredible capacity for poignancy as well as power.

This intricately illustrated conflict between urgent intensity and profound humanity is the nature of Doc Mach and the Field Surgeons, the rare quality that makes observing their concerts and absorbing their album such transformative experiences. Behind each athletic cymbal-stroke from Mach, each impassioned utterance from Salvatori, and each moment of collective artistry from the band as a whole, there is a deep and honest understanding of the purpose of each note, each lyric, and each song. In each performance, there is a deeply human connection to the power and meaning of music, a connection that is cultivated rather than smothered by the virtuosity of the performers.


Please support this great local band by purchasing their record “This is Not a Bomb”: 47 minutes of music for the cheap price of $5.00! To purchase the album please contact the band through www.myspace.com/docmach or at joeymarchese@gmail.com.

September 7th: 78 years of Sonny Rollins

Friday marked the seventy-eighth year of life and music for one of the most enduring jazz legends of our time-- the versatile and supremely gifted tenorman Sonny Rollins, a musician whose evocative improvisations contain all the power of John Coltrane's enraged meanderings and all the heartbreaking sensitivity of Billie Holiday's tearful wail. Into his singularly melodic lines, Rollins infuses a unique style of playful exuberance, a buoyant, excitable method of playing that is as welcoming as it is evocative. Rollins' playing is childish in its enthusiasm but entirely mature in its execution, and one need only hear the deliberately stumbling, drunken playing on his slurred interpretation of "On Green Dolphin Street" to become aware of the tremendous humanity evident in his music. Said esteemed critic Stanley Crouch of the still living giant:

"Over and over, decade after decade, from the late seventies through the eighties and nineties, there he is, Sonny Rollins, the saxophone colossus, playing somewhere in the world, some afternoon or some eight o'clock somewhere, pursuing the combination of emotion, memory, thought, and aesthetic design with a command that allows him to achieve spontaneous grandiloquence. With its brass body, its pearl-button keys, its mouthpiece, and its cane reed, the horn becomes the vessel for the epic of Rollins' talent and the undimmed power and lore of his jazz ancestors."

______________________________________________________________

Though his perpetual presence on the international stage is expected today (something quite astounding considering his age), Rollins made jazz history in the late 1950's when, at the height of his career, he abruptly dropped out of sight, retreating off the stages and away from the clubs that had been his haunting grounds throughout his entire adult life. Said Rollins later,

"People have speculated that the competition from John Coltrane was what drove me from the scene, and then hearing Ornette on top of that.... But it was really just my usual effort to improve my playing-- that was the main thing. I was suddenly getting a lot of publicity and being hailed my the critics, which is fine, except I almost felt like they were setting me up, because I felt like I wasn't delivering."

Rollins retreated into the privacy offered by the shocking anonymity of New York City (at one point, he enrolled in music classes at the New School, finding that only one of his professors recognized his name). Rollins found the privacy he needed to practice in the beautiful solitude and cathedral-like echo of one of the bridges over Manhattan's East River, blowing endless choruses among the silver beams and walkways of his metal hall. Jazz lore has it that during the years spent on the bridge, Rollins worked only on phrasing-- blowing a single line repeatedly and incessantly for days, reinterpreting it thousands of times with the subtle rhythmic manipulation so characteristic of his style.

Rollins' anonymity would be cut short after only several years when, in 1961, critic Ralph Berton published a supposedly fictional story in Downbeat magazine. In this story Berton described he and his wife stumbling upon "expert, first-class jazz tenor sax" while crossing one of Manhattan's bridges. The man Berton described

"paced as he blew, turning this way and that, bent his knees and spread his feet, blowing always, usually a single phrase over and over, smoothing out a sequence of triplets, superimposing a cresendo, riding the pulse of a non-existent rhythm section."

New York's jazz fans were not fooled by Berton's ambiguous information and use of a pseudonym, and Rollins returned to the recording studio shortly afterward, releasing the aptly titled "The Bridge". And Sonny Rollins, the master himself, has graced us with his music for almost half a century since.

Barack Obama

Today, I am one step closer to being proud of my country.


"America is woven of many strands. I would recognize them and let it so remain.... Our fate is to become one, and yet many. This is not prophecy, but description."
~Ralph Ellison
From Invisible Man
1953
___________________________________________________________________

I understand that this is not the time nor the place to voice my concerns about the American electoral system, nor to voice my support for the more intelligent, fair, and prudent policies of "radicals" like Rep. Cynthia McKinney and Ms. Rosa Clemete over the more moderate opinions of President-Elect Barack Obama. I understand that this is not the proper time because this is an astounding day for this nation and for the world, and that the man set to become the 44th president of these United States is a truly great and inspirational man.

It is not my intention to waste the time and computer space attempting to convince anyone of the greatness of out newest President-Elect, nor do I intend to expend any energy begging the fickle and often irrational people of this country to support the future of President-Elect Obama.

But I will say one thing.

America has now looked itself in the mirror and begun to scrape away the grime coating its glorious, multi-colored face. And this is something I will celebrate internally, with the utmost respect and reverence for the struggle of a nation remembering the shackles, the hoses, the dogs, the bullets, the shouting, the weeping, and the prayerful silence of a people repressed and maimed by the evils of the United States of America. For there are people who need not imagine the grief of a culture chained and mutilated by the devilish horrors of slavery. There are people who need not rely on the descriptions of others to feel the weight of a hundred pounds of water striking the chests and arms of a proud people at 300 hundred miles an hour. There are people who need not research the mourning of a broken race after American bullets shattered the lives of great men as they spoke from the pulpit and pedestal. And there are people who need not struggle to remember the power and dignity that comes from raising a fist in the frigid air of Chicago, the salty haze of San Francisco, the pavement-steam of Los Angeles, the saturated smoke of Philadelphia, or the angry cold of New York to declare "I am a human being. And my life has meaning!". These people feel the struggle every day as they breathe and eat and pray and fuck and laugh and cry and kiss their husbands and wives and children. This is my America. And I hope that soon I will have earned the trust and respect that my fathers have trampled upon, and I will be welcome to stand with my America and lift my pampered fist in the air as my mouth opens and my throat vibrates in song as I am introduced to something altogether foreign to me. Patriotism.

[UPDATE]
If I may be forgiven a moment of presumption and possible arrogance, I will say one more thing in an attempt to quiet the irrational and racist meanderings of the bitter minority still stinging from the loss of Senator John McCain. Consider this what my cowardice and weakness prevent me from saying in person.

The people of the United States of America did not vote for Senator Barack Obama simply because he is a black man. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he understands their struggles and their hardships and their challenges. And because these struggles are, in fact, his own. The people of this country voted for Barack Obama because he was a poor black child born to a white mother and an African father, and raised in a single parent home. He understands that struggle. The people of this country voted for Barack Obama because his father was an immigrant. He understands that struggle. The people of this country voted for Barack Obama because he lifted himself out of poverty and transcended the stigma of his race to attend some of the finest schools in the world. He understands that struggle. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he spent his youth organizing in the poorest parts of one of America's poorest cities, working to help families overcome the hardships of American inner cities. He understands that struggle. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he spent years teaching Constitutional Law at the University of Chicago. He understands the act of teaching, and he understands the struggle of America's teachers. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he spent his time in the Illinois legislature and in the United States Senate leading with dignity and working to cross party lines for the people he represented. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he understands their America, the America marred by a history of hate and oppression, the America in which poor black youth must struggle against the extreme hardship of their condition, the America in which people feel unsafe in their own homes and unwelcome in their own nation. The people of the United States of America voted for Barack Obama because he understands their America, their struggle. The color of his skin is merely evidence of his own struggle.

To say that a citizen of the United States of America, black of white, voted for Obama simply for the novelty of electing a black man, simply for some kind of quirky pleasure derived from observing the unusual, is to label a great man like the President-Elect a mere puppet, and the millions of voters who cast their ballot for him as mere puppeteers, clueless Americans meandering frivolously through this enormous decision. And that is nothing short of close-minded and naive.

It is, in fact, racist. In saying that the President-Elect earned his votes simply through the color of his skin, you have reduced Barack Obama to nothing more than an unthinking, inanimate symbol of his race, and robbed his accomplishments of their vitality and enormity. And that is the essence of American racism-- the robbery of meaning and importance based on racial heritage.

As promised...

The Williamsport Guardian has updated their website, and so at least some of my reviews are now online. They appear online just as they did in the magazine, edited for clarity and length by the Guardian. As of right now, only the latest issue is up, but possibly the Guardian will put up the one previous to it soon. If you can, be sure to check out the Guardian for more reviews as they come. Thanks!

Review of Akron/Family's Love Is Simple
Interview with Akron/Family guitarist Seth Olinsky

Hiatus

I realize that I was never terribly consistent in publishing these blog posts before, and lately I've been averaging about one a month, so I've decided to stop kidding myself and the few readers I've managed to retain. As of today, I'll be going on an indefinite hiatus. Now, frankly, will anything substantial really change? Of course not. I haven't been posting much lately, anyway. The only difference will be that now I won't feel guilty about it.

Quickly, though, I want to mention a couple things before I go. SteveG from Philosopher's Playground sent me an advance copy of Pink Floyd and Philosophy. A great read. Check it out. Also, I've started writing CD reviews for the Williamsport Guardian. I'll post a link as soon as some of those are online.

And as soon as Blogger fixes their image upload feature, I'll leave you with some Calvin and Hobbes.

Bye.

Armenian Genocide: Bush Recognizes the Genocide in 2000, Renounces Bill Now

I haven't been this angry in a long time. I have recently stumbled upon a letter that George W. Bush drafted in 2000 while running for president, directly referring to the mass killings of 1.5 million Armenians in the beginning of the 20th century as "a genocidal campaign" and swearing "If elected President, I would ensure that our nation properly recognizes the tragic suffering of the Armenian people." Needless to say, this letter, when coupled with recent events in Washington regarding the Armenian genocide, displays a level of blatant hypocrisy and opportunism even I didn't think possible of this administration. I DISCOVERED THIS LETTER ON THE WEB SITE OF THE ARMENIAN NATIONAL COMMITTEE FOR AMERICA (ANCA), AND AM AT A LOSS AS TO WHY I WAS UNABLE TO FIND ANY REFERENCE TO IT ON ANY OF THE NEWS SOURCES I HAVE SEEN, BOTH MAINSTREAM AND "LIBERAL". THIS INCLUDES FOX, CNN, MSNBC, THE NEW YORK TIMES, THE NEW YORK POST, THE WASHINGTON TIMES, USA TODAY, TROUTHOUT.COM, AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. The letter, alongwith its accompanying press release, is reprinted in it's entirety at the bottom of this post, after a brief summary of the situation and of recent events.

On Wednesday, October 10th, President George W. Bush, along with his Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice and his Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, publicly criticized the House Foreign Affairs Committee for working towards passing a non-binding resolution labeling the WWI-era slaughter of 1.5 Turkish Armenians at the hands of the Ottoman Empire a genocide. Said Bush, "We all deeply regret the tragic suffering of the Armenian people that began in 1915, but this resolution is not the right response to these historic mass killings. Its passage would do great harm to our relations with a key ally in NATO and in the global war on terror." The concern of the White House is that officially labeling the genocide as such would put strain on U.S relations with Turkey, and thereby jeopardize the United States military bases and air fueling stops that are located on Turkish soil. The White House maintains that these bases and other military establishments are essential to the continuation of the U.S war on terror, and intrinsic in maintaining United States involvement in the Iraqi and Afghani debacles (my words, not theirs obviously). Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice said "The passage of this resolution at this time would indeed be very problematic for everything we are trying to do in the Middle East." Even Secretary of Defense Robert Gates acknowledged that "About 70% of all air cargo going into Iraq comes or goes through Turkey." Currently the House's proposed non-binding resolution is still in committee, and even after the president's remarks drew away some of its Republican support, it currently has enough votes to pass if the Democrats decide to bring it to vote. The purpose of the proposed resolution is to put pressure on the White House, President Bush, and the rest of the Untied States government to formally identity the deaths of 1.5 million Armenians as genocide.

It is not my interest to convince anyone that this resolution is completely appropriate, incredibly overdue, and more than necessary, and so I will not waste a great deal of time or space here attempting to do that. It is also not my interest to waste any time convincing anyone that what occurred in the early part of the twentieth century in what is now Armenia was a genocide. It was. I believe simply looking at the history will convince anyone of that. Between 1915 and 1917 the Ottoman Empire deliberately and consciously engaged in the active ethnic cleansing of Armenian men, women, and children, resulting in the illegal, immoral, and horrific deaths of 1.5 million people.

The passage of this resolution would take a long-overdue step toward an American condemnation of the Armenian genocide, a condemnation that would add the Untied States to a steadily growing list of countries to acknowledge the genocide and condemn it as such. An American condemnation would also put a great deal of pressure on the international community: both on other countries and on the United Nations, who have been amazingly un-active in reconciling the damage done by the ethnic cleansing. Proper United Nations support could go a very long way towards healing the emotional, social, and economic scars that still exist among ethnic Armenians. The incredible social and economic influence of the UN, as well as the similar power held by the United States as one of the world's dominating nations, could also go a long way towards alleviating much of the inhuman poverty that many ethnic Armenians continue to face as a direct result of the decades-old genocide.

However, as I stated above, it is not my interest to convince anyone who may be reading this of the powerful efficacy the passage of this bill could have. However, it is my interest to bring to their attention a letter that then-Governor George W. Bush drafted in 2000 to the Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA), as he was seeking support for his presidential campaign. The letter is addressed to Mr. Edgar Hagopian and Mr. Vasken Setrakian, two Armenian activists and members of ANCA. In the letter, George W. Bush refers to the mass killings as "a genocidal campaign" and pledges "If elected President, I would ensure that our nation properly recognizes the tragic suffering of the Armenian people." The letter is re-printed in it's entirety below, immediately followed by the press release that ANCA released after receiving the letter. Both of these documents can be viewed at, and are reprinted from, ANCA's website, http://www.anca.org/press_releases/press_releases.php?prid=3. It bears mentioning that this letter won George W. Bush the support of many Armenian-Americans and the unofficial support of ANCA. The letter is marked February 19, 2000, and the press release was issued on February 20, 2000. More than any record I've seen, this letter indicates the hypocrisy of this president and this administration, particularly regarding this, a massively important issue.

George W. Bush for President
February 19, 2000

Mr. Edgar Hagopian
Mr. Vasken Setrakian


Dear Edgar and Vasken,

Thank you for your inquiry to my campaign regarding issues of concern to Armenian Americans.

The twentieth century was marred by wars of unimaginable brutality, mass murder and genocide. History records that the Armenians were the first people of the last century to have endured these cruelties. The Armenians were subjected to a genocidal campaign that defies comprehension and commands all decent people to remember and acknowledge the facts and lessons of an awful crime in a century of bloody crimes against humanity. If elected President, I would ensure that our nation properly recognizes the tragic suffering of the Armenian people.

The Armenian diaspora and the emergence of an independent Republic of Armenia stand as a testament to the resiliency of the Armenian people. In this new century, the United States must actively support the independence of all the nations of the Caucasus by promising the peaceful settlement of regional disputes and the economic development of the region. American assistance to Armenia to encourage the development of democracy, the rule of law and a tolerant open society is vital. It has my full support.

I am encouraged by recent discussions between the governments of Armenia and Azerbaijan. The United States should work actively to promote peace in the region and should be willing to serve as a mediator. But ultimately peace must be negotiated and sustained by the parties involved. Lasting peace can come only from agreements they judge to be in their best interests.

I appreciate the tremendous contribution of the Armenian community to the United States. The Armenian community has been and will continue to be a model of dedication to values of faith and family.

Sincerely,

[signed]
George W. Bush

(end of letter--J)

PRESS RELEASE For Immediate Release ~ 2000-02-20 Contact: Elizabeth Chouldjian ~ Tel: (202) 775-1918

GEORGE W. BUSH RECOGNIZES ARMENIAN GENOCIDE

Republican Candidate Calls on Americans to Remember and Acknowledge "Facts and Lessons" of the "Genocidal Campaign" against the Armenians

Washington, DC -- In a powerfully worded letter to two of his leading Armenian American supporters, Republican presidential hopeful Texas Governor George Bush acknowledged the Armenian Genocide, called on Americans to join with him in remembering the crime committed against the Armenian people, and pledged as President to ensure that the United States properly recognizes this terrible atrocity, reported the Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA). Governor Bush's letter, addressed to Michigan community activist Edgar Hagopian and New York businessman Vasken Setrakian, who attended Harvard with the Governor, also called for continued U.S. aid to Armenia, encouraged a peaceful settlement of the Nagorno Karabagh conflict, and praised the "tremendous contribution of the Armenian community to the United States." "We welcome Governor Bush's principled stand on the Armenian Genocide and join with him in calling upon all Americans to acknowledge both the facts and lessons of this crime against humanity," said ANCA Executive Director Aram Hamparian. "We would like, as well, to voice our community's gratitude to Vasken Setrakian and Edgar Hagopian, both of whom have done so much to share with Governor Bush the issues of pressing concern to our community. We appreciate their leadership and value their contribution to expanding the voice of Armenian Americans in the political process." Governor Bush's rival for the Republican nomination, Arizona Senator John McCain, has yet to speak out on Armenian issues. He has remained silent, in particular, on the Armenian Genocide, despite having received an unprecedented number of postcards from Armenian Americans as part of the ANCA's million postcard campaign to leading presidential candidates - including Governor Bush, Vice President Al Gore and former New Jersey Senator Bill Bradley. The two hundred thousand postcards addressed to Sen. McCain ask him to explain his vote in 1990 against former Senator Bob Dole's Armenian Genocide resolution and, more recently, his 1999 vote to lift the Section 907 restrictions on U.S. aid to Azerbaijan, despite Azerbaijan's failure to lift its blockades of Armenia and Nagorno Karabagh. (For more information on the ANCA postcard campaign, visit http://www.anca.org.) In a September 1998 speech in the U.S. Senate, McCain attacked a Congressionally approved ten million dollar aid package to the American University of Armenia as an "objectionable program," and a "serious diversion of scarce resources otherwise needed for truly worthy programs." (For more information on this speech, visit http://mccain.senate.gov/frop99ap.htm.) Provided below is the full text of Governor Bush's letter. #####

I will attempt to continue to write about this and provide updates as I discover them, but I fear that if the media continues to be as silent as they are now about this issue, these updates will never come. Any information I haven't found or have missed, as well as any new information you may discover would be greatly appreciated.

Nazis Thrown Out of Knoxville by...Clowns?

Yes, clowns. About three months ago, a crowd of about twenty racist skinheads, assembled under the banner of the VVN Vanguard Nazi/KKK organization, were driven off the streets of Knoxville by the humorous actions of the 100th ARA (Anti-Racist-Action) "clown block". Says Ashville Indymedia:

“White Power!” the Nazi’s shouted, “White Flour?” the clowns yelled back running
in circles throwing flour in the air and raising separate letters which
[spelled] “White Flour”.

“White Power!” the Nazi’s angrily shouted once
more, “White flowers?” the clowns cheers and threw white flowers in the air and
danced about merrily.

“White Power!” the Nazi’s tried once again in a
doomed and somewhat funny attempt to clarify their message, “ohhhhhh!” the
clowns yelled “Tight Shower!” and held a solar shower in the air and all tried
to crowd under to get clean as per the Klan’s directions.

At this point
several of the Nazi’s and Klan members began clutching their hearts as if they
were about to have a heart attack. Their beady eyes bulged, and the veins in
their tiny narrow foreheads beat in rage. One last time they screamed “White
Power!”

The clown women thought they finally understood what the Klan
was trying to say. “Ohhhhh…” the women clowns said. “Now we understand…”, “WIFE
POWER!” they lifted the letters up in the air, grabbed the nearest male clowns
and lifted them in their arms and ran about merrily chanting “WIFE POWER! WIFE
POWER! WIFE POWER!”

It was at this point that several observers reported
seeing several Klan members heads exploding in rage and they stopped trying to
explain to the clowns what they wanted.

The Nazis then dejectedly stalked off the streets, as the crowd of about 150 counter-protesters laughed and cheered, chanting "WHOSE STREETS? OUR STREETS!" Then:

The clowns seeing how dejected and sad the Nazi’s looked began singing to cheer
them up.

“hey hey hey hey, ho ho ho ho—good bye, good bye” everyone sang
waving their arms in the air in unison.

Ha! Then, reportedly, anti-racist activists flooded the streets and marched through downtown Knoxville, waving banners, carrying signs, and chanting. Police escorted, and in fact led, them along main street, stopping traffic as the street gave way to an anti-racist parade. Cool, eh?

(All grammatical and spelling errors in the quoted text remained intact. Mainly because I was too lazy to correct them and too ignorant to properly indicate those corrections. So I copied and pasted. 21st century, eh?)

Tom Waits Performs "Heartattack and Vine"

Does anyone else think this is awesome?

Wizard Rock: Awwww, cute! They think it's music!

I can understand Potter-mania to a point. After all, I'm the one who reluctantly admitted back in February that I would probably be up at midnight on the 21st of July to buy the new book. In fact, I can almost understand the costumes and the ridiculous candy, although I am still at a loss as to what kind of kind of person would a) go into public dressed as a wizard-in-training and b) deliberately pay for (not to mention consume) a candy made to taste like grass or vomit. I can even almost understand the hundreds of thousands of bookstores that will throw middle-of-the-night parties for bi-spectacled pre-teens and their parents in a couple of weeks. But this?! This just blows it all out of the water.

Apparently "wizard rock" is a thing. Apparently, people, some of whom are grown adults, as in the case of Harry and the Potters' Paul and Joe deGeorge (20 (!) and 28 (!!) respectively), feel that the world is in need of Harry Potter-themed indie rock. In fact, they even feel that it is their responsibility to announce to the world, through lame drum machines and tacky techno-loops, such bold pronouncements as "Voldemort Can't Stop the Rock" and "Hagrid is Fun to Hug" (both of which are song titles of the aforementioned Harry and the Potters. These guys just must be the biggest geeks ever.) I mean, seriously? SERIOUSLY? These two college and post-college age men seriously want to do this with their lives?! And they're not the only ones, either. Of course, after Harry and the Potters must come Draco and the Malfoys, which also consists of two college age brothers who have decided to devote this part of their lives to the strangest (read: geekiest) of musical projects, and after them you have a slew of wizard rock bands, with names as creative as The Whomping Willows, Ginny and the Heartbreakers, The Parselmouths, Dobby and the House Elves, Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Sugar Quills, Siriusly Black (oh, the wit! hahaha...!), Dumbledork (yes, "dork". now THAT's ironic...) the Hermione Crookshanks Experience, and (this one's the best) Huffle my Puffle. Also, in a classic incident of children mimicking adult behavior (or is it the other way around in this case? I'm not sure), the kids have jumped on board, too. Singer and guitar-player Darius started The Hungarian Horntails when he was just eight years-old, and has quickly risen to fame within the "sub-culture" (bah!) of wizard rock. (His debut album is available for purchase as we speak, entitled, I kid you not, "Burn Voldemort's Butt".) But unfortunately for global normalcy and customary maturity, people like Darius are in the minority among popular wizard rock bands. Most of these bands seem to be comprised of high school and college age Harry Potter fans. In fact, the so called "originator" of wizard rock was Drama, the nineteen-year-old singer of indie pop act Switchblade Kittens (which now popularly goes by the moniker "the Weird Sisters"), who famously wrote the song "Ode to Harry Potter" and posted it on her band's web site during the Christmas season of 2000. The song, which focuses on character Ginny Weasley's crush on Harry Potter (the most eloquent of the lyrics:"I can't help but blush when you're near me/But you just exclude me from your circle of three/I'm right in front of you but you don't see/You treat me like I'm a Colin Creevey." ), began the whole phenomenon of Harry Potter-themed indie rock (dubbed "wizard rock" by the press), which is showing no signs of slowing down.

And now if that wasn't nerd-y enough for you, check out this video of Harry and the Potters preforming "Voldemort Can't Stop the Rock", a danceable anthem in which the brothers implore the audience to "stick it to the man" because "where I come from, the man is the guy that breaks into your house, kills your parents, and leaves a scar on your forehead". And apparently, "Voldemort hates dancing". Who new? (Oh, and if you decide that this just isn't enough for you, you can check out other Harry and the Potters tracks, like "Save Ginny Weasley from Dean Thomas", "The Wrath of Hermione", and "Stick it to Dolores", also available on YouTube.)

For more information concerning the "wizard rock phenomenon", you can visit these links. But be warned, depending on your personality and your threshold for the absurd, you may want to give these a miss. They have been known to make their readers laugh hysterically, scream in terror, or cry themselves to sleep at night. Enjoy!

http://www.salon.com/
http://www.forbes.com/