June 11, 2005
When someone who makes music dies, their sound disappears with them. And so much of their personality is wrapped into their sound, that it's almost a double loss. Well, no, not almost. It is a double loss. You lose the person, all of those things about them that make up your memories, and on top of that, you lose their sound - that other living being they create with their hands and heart.
Playing--the individual act of fingers on axe--is the thumbprint of the artist. Yes, we have recordings. I have recordings of my father too. But the energy behind the notes, the pain and the release--they take that with them. Jaco took it with him. Joe Pass took it with him. Miles took it with him. They all take it when they go.
There's no way to reconstruct the live-session self, the self that engages and interprets what others are saying in a completely unique way, at the moment of creation and into the future.
If painting were music, we would marvel at how the artist dips his brush in water, or mixes the right shade of blue on the palette -- we would dig all of the technique and vision involved during the creative process, before the piece is mastered. What we hang on the wall, that's the CD version of art. You see?
That's why music is special. That's why losing Mark so young just stinks.
June 10, 2005
You know you need some
Vinnie Colaiuta - Steve Gadd - Dave Weckl
Three Part Movie - Drummer Showdown from 1989 - where have I been that I hadn't seen it?
http://www.drummerworld.com/Videos/gaddwecklcolaiuta1.html (part 1)
http://www.drummerworld.com/Videos/gaddwecklcolaiuta2.html (part 2) - gadd is a classy mofo
http://www.drummerworld.com/Videos/gaddwecklcolaiuta3.html (part 3)
Your bonus? A video slowdown of a great Gadd lick.
Do not review multiple times. Can cause brain damage.
Have I Mentioned Lately
I Wish I Had a River too, James.
Oh I wish I had a river so I could teach my feet to fly away. I wish I had a river I could skate away on, too.
In Memoriam, Mark Manetta
Mark taught and/or influenced dozens of the gifted guitarists who've come out of Rochester. Even with all the reasons I'm glad I don't live there anymore, Rochester, NY has the most dense population of truly talented jazz artists (especially guitarists, followed by sax and trumpet) of any small- to mid-size city in the U.S. (and a lot of the big cities too).
That's in part because of the Eastman School of Music, and part because the musical DNA of the jazz players in that little patch of the world has somehow intertwined to create a unique sound --and some legends. The guitarists who are Rochester taught have a special sound. You'll notice it most on ballads. They aren't afraid to cry for you. Part of that sound is undeniably Mark Manetta's.
It's been 12 years since I've seen Mark, but he always felt like family to me. He reminded me of my Uncle Tony, with his booming voice, those bright eyes, and big hug. Never mind the curls.
I feel really blessed to have travelled the outer edges of that musical circle for as long as I did.
And I feel really sad when I think of Mark's guitar sitting in its stand right now lonely for his hands.
Mark on Soul Eyes, from Vince Ercolamento's Delightful Eyes
Mark on Say What, from Vince Ercolamento's Delightful Eyes
Mark wrote the following on a Joe Pass memorial site: Thanks Joe, I'll never forget what you did for me. I know God was waiting for you in heaven. Don't show him all the chords untill I get there!
Guess we know what God's doing today. Lucky Guy.
June 08, 2005
Happy Birthday, Johnny Depp (and me and a lot of other people)
JUNE 9 BIRTHDAYS
1686 - Andrei Osterman, Russian statesman (d. 1747)
1768 - Samuel Slater, US industrialist (d. 1835)
1810 - Otto Nicolai, composer (d. 1849)
1812 - Johann Gottfried Galle, German astronomer (d. 1910)
1882 - Angus Walters, schooner captain (d. 1968)
1843 - Bertha von Suttner, novelist, pacifist, recipient of the Nobel Prize for Peace 1905 (d. 1914)
1845 - Gilbert Elliot-Murray-Kynynmound, 4th Earl of Minto (d. 1914)
1849 - Michael Peter Ancher, Danish painter (d. 1927)
1851 - Charles Joseph Bonaparte, politician (d. 1921)
1865 - Albéric Magnard, composer (d. 1914)
1882 - Bobby Kerr, Canadian sprinter (d. 1963)
1891 - Cole Porter, composer and lyricist (d. 1964)
1900 - Fred Waring, bandleader, inventor (d. 1984)
1916 - Robert McNamara, United States Secretary of Defense, former president of the World Bank
1916 - Les Paul, guitarist
1922 - John Gillespie Magee, Jr., American poet and aviator († 1941)
1931 - Jackie Mason, comedian
1937 - Harald Rosenthal, biologist
1939 - Ileana Cotrubas, Romanian soprano
1939 - Dick Vitale, sportscaster
1956 - Patricia Cornwell, author
1961 - Michael J. Fox, actor
1961 - Aaron Sorkin, director, producer, writer
1963 - Johnny Depp, actor
1964 - Gloria Reuben, actress
1975 - Andrew Symonds, cricketer
1977 - Peja Stojakovi?, Serbian NBA star
1978 - Miroslav Klose, football player, National Team of Germany
1981 - Natalie Portman, actress
And let's not forget, this one day a year is also set aside for the United States' Race Unity Day!
As to the other 364 days of the year, you may resume your disunion.
feels flip floppy
Stepping on the dead is something you learn about when you spend a lot of time at cemetaries as a kid, and since I was a kid staring at my dad's grave, I know something about that, not knowing where the edges are, where it's okay to step or not, where does my dad end and the soil begin, the least they could do is put a chalk outline on top of the grass, and the other thing is the tombstone, that most of them have two sides and there's writing on both sides, and it makes you feel like you're not sure if you're coming or going, if it's talking to the dead person or to you, the visitor, about the dead person. Then there are tombstones that are messages FROM you TO the dead person, "Our loving mother...You graced us for 87 years...Now you walk with God," and in the end, I never understand who the audience is. Kind of like the edges of the grave and where not to step. Somewhere it's about marketing, about making mistakes that no one notices, about turning 43.
I always thought my dad needed a bigger tombstone. Leastwise it could have mapped out the parameters for the placement of my feet.
There are rules about flowers too, live and dead, what you can leave and can't.
It gets tricky is what I'm saying.
I think of these sometimes when I'm trying to fall asleep.
Was a house party, a gathering, talking about what you talk about when you sit in garage-sale couches drinking beer from a can. What kind of fool would punditize there, on a green-cushioned chair, among friends? What kind of fool would talk outside of their own body, telling you to read so-and-so, to look here, look there, what he said, she said, what the Wall Street Journal said.
Would you get up and leave--a pundit at your party?
I would get up and leave.
That's what I run up against every time I betray myself here. In writing. Who's the jerk in the green chair with the can of Coors talking about journalism and PR, about clients, about aggregators, about people who talk about those things? Who invited her?
Secretly, I want to bounce the pundits from this gathering. Especially the pundit pieces of me.
June 07, 2005
Then I was thinking to tell you about my car stuff that took all day to do. That's been the hardest adjustment in moving to a wide-apart metro area like Atlanta for me---if you can get one thing done in a day, that's all you can expect from yourself. It's not the grocery store, the doctor, AND the school function. It's the grocery store, the doctor, OR the school function. Whereas in Rochester everything is 20 minutes away, no matter where you are, here in Atlanta, everything is a circumnavigates everything else and there is just no getting from point a to b to c to a. Only a to b to a.
Right, so today I beat my personal best: An emissions test at one location, and oil change/brake-light/air-filter at another location, FOLLOWED BY a stop the the bank AND a drop off and pick up of Jenna from Volley Ball Camp.
Of course, what that means is that I didn't work at all.
That's what I get to do now.
After this post.
I've been uninspired lately. I like to blame the Aggregator 2.0, which takes the blood out of the process. Remote control blog viewing -- no going back. No I'm not going to get up and change the channel. So I guess I just won't turn it on.
Oh yah, in other news, I turn 43 Thursday.
some blogs I want to chew on
It needs a big sign from a museum warning parents to keep their children's hands off the priceless possessions.
Let me bite you, engadget.
June 06, 2005
working since 9 a.m.
too many animals. too little time.
clients want to know what bloggers say.
tracking the conversation takes work--listening with our eyeballs. Interpreting. Instinctive hyperlinking.
thank you for stopping by.
my neck hurts.
And what gall does T-Mobile have charging like $30 a month or $9 a day for its starbucks hotspot connection? What kind of anal product marketing effort is this?
Blog Note to T-Mo:
Dawgs, I sat in yer hotzpot zone all day and leached off the gymnasium across the street. It's a hotspot-licious world. I'll pay you $1 a day to make it easier than refreshing my wireless connections once an hour. That's my limit.