*On Christmas Day, of all times, I found out I had been accorded a rare and major honor. For at least a little context, this extract from the D&Q archives may prove useful.
*Holiday vacation viewings:
=="Erin Brockovich" -- granted, the story and film came out before last year's debacle in the West Coast power grid, but anything that slugs the California utilities industry can't go too wrong. In any case, Julia Roberts did a more-than-creditable job as the title character, who externalizes her single-mother crisis mentality into an advocate's staunchness; she projects a physical presence that seems at least twice her off-screen persona. Albert Finney, as the bemused lawyer who indulges her pro bono sleuthing, is delightful.
=="Lost Souls" -- Winona Ryder as a young woman from a troubled past who, as a sort of all-purpose intern for the local Catholic archdiocese, makes the acquaintance of charming Ben Chaplin, who may already be a winner in the Satan-Reborn sweepstakes. Forgettable attempt at shock theology.
=="Angus" -- good to see a "teen movie" in which, to some extent, the characters resist pat categorizations. The hero (Charlie Talbert) is big, clumsy, decent at football and far better at science; his seemingly far-removed heroine (Ariana Richards) is winsome, genuinely sweet-natured, and delicately lovely; she's as much a victim as he of the scheming villain (James Van Der Beek) who, as we see in the prologue, wound up on the wrong side of his feud with Angus all through childhood. All helps in giving the film just enough momentum to take it through the occasionally formulaic conclusion.
*Book completed: "Underword," by Don DeLillo -- Mankind is dominated by two historical streams, says one character late in the book: weapons and waste; another character muses on how "everyday things lie hidden." That, essentially, is the theme of this novel and the defining experiences of its characters: destruction and detritus, during a period -- from 1951 to the present -- when both emerged in our collective sight, sometimes simultaneously. Structurally, the book is a mess. It careens back and forth across time and narrative voices in a jarring rhythm, encompassing real events and persons -- the famous '51 Giants-Dodgers playoff, the Cuban Missile Crisis, J. Edgar Hoover and Lenny Bruce, among others (there's also a reference to the World Trade Center that, in retrospect, becomes cruelly ironic) -- as well as DeLillo's creations: a man who overcomes, though not completely, his tragic upbringing to pursue a successful career in waste management; a nun determined to minister to her doomed flock of graffiti artists and runaways; and a loner who may or may not be a serial killer. Frustrating to follow, but hard to dismiss completely.
Twelth-Tide is the Last
A brownish-green Christmas, alas, at least outside. But other than a nasty cold that gave me about the least restful Christmas Eve in some time (and refused to go away even after the turning of the year), plus yet more car trouble, this was quite a lovely holiday.
*Pre-25th: Despite a jerry-rigged ignition system, managed to complete most of the Christmas shopping in time to enjoy watching the Patriots march to victory over the previously feared Dolphins. All on pretty even keel, and before we knew it, we were ordering our more-or-less traditional Christmas Eve Chinese take-out, settling in to watch "A Christmas Story" and then reading "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" to our still-appreciative young ladies.
*25th: Up at 7 a.m. as usual, and from there we bask in the generosity of our family from afar. Some nifty new electronics, including a karaoke machine that will no doubt offer plenty of wish fulfillment to our would-be chanteuse of a younger daughter. Yes, I even got new slippers. But the crowning touch was this:
At long last bouzouki! And straight from Athens itself, thanks to a conspiracy between my wife and father-in-law which eventually involved both daughters and even our downstairs tenant, who agreed to temporarily house the quite sizable box in which it was delivered. Looks and sounds gorgeous, and further reports will definitely be forthcoming.
*Last to The First: Fending off a cold gives you an even better reason to just stay put after Christmas and play with your new toys. So I did, in particular trying, with some success, to figure out the workings of our new electronics. But I (and the car) recovered sufficiently to head out and spend part of a day with me Mum at her place of employ, where I took a buncha photos for possible future use on the center's Web page. But you can see some of 'em here. A good several hours of quiet walks and conversation, bookended by two-hour drives listening to "The Transports," Les Mystere de Voix Bulgares, Relativity and some of Kornog.
Then it's New Years' Eve, and we've had our post-Christmas outing to Building 19 (which necessitates an update to The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page), and OD's been packed off to a sleepover, leaving LW, YD and me to feast on seafood and watch movies through the midnight hour, pausing at the appropriate moment to welcome Ought-2. Some hours later, I head over to our friends J and L, catching fragments of a "Twilight Zone" marathon between viewings of various corporate-enhanced bowl games.
So there we are, not-quite two weeks on the home front. Some left over details will be arriving shortly.
Addendum to Dec. 19
*Got to play in a very comfortably small-sized session (three fiddlers and me) as part of a holiday gathering. These are the kind I really like: more than reasonable pace, and tunes that are familiar but not overly so. As a tribute to Tony Cuffe [see below], I offered up "To Pad the Road Wi' Me." Least I could do.
*Viewing: "The Butterfly Flies Anyway" -- Amnesiac Elijah Wood and his haunted doe eyes arrive at a private medical facility for terminally ill children, ostensibly to recover the memory he lost in a mysterious car accident. In between working with the self-admittedly detached doctors (Janeane Garofolo and Roger Rees), he comes to befriend three patients, who confront their approaching mortality with, variously, dark humor, candor, stubborn but hardly invulnerable hostility -- and in the case of one, barely coherent babble. The unraveling of the mystery surrounding Wood's case adds some palpable drama, and the kids' camaraderie (especially George Gore, as the affable "Billy the Kidney") feels touchingly sincere. But the film seems perhaps a bit too self-contained for its own good, and the vague Peter Pan reference in its climax really doesn't belong.
Dec. 19
*Sad news: Scottish musician Tony Cuffe passes away after a battle with cancer. Only met him briefly once, but heard enough of his solo and group work to count him as an influence and an inspiration.
*Speculation continues to abound that the anthrax mailings were the work of a domestic terrorist -- perhaps (my guess) someone once associated with the military who became disenchanted with the US government? So, question is, does that person loom as more of a traitor than the so-called "American Taliban," John Walker Lindh? Pundits, talking heads, start your engines, please.
Dec. 18
*Book completed: "Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague," by Geraldine Brooks -- A meticulously researched and well-crafted depiction of the Derbyshire village of Eyam and its self-imposed isolation from the rest of the world when the Great Plague of 1666 arrived. Brooks casts the work as a survivor's memoir, told in retrospect by Anna Frith, a young woman who sees the worst and best of humanity during that year, and in so doing attains a personal and social maturity she could not have imagined. Some engaging meditations on the role of the healer and the balance of faith and science, to go with the historical detail. I did find the final plot twists, and Anna's ultimate deliverance, to be disappointingly out of character with the rest of the book. But not at all a bad read for these uncertain times, when we fear the strange and unseen once again.
*Some recent musical acquisitons:
==3 Mustaphas 3, "Soup of the Century" -- Great fun, this, zigzagging across Eastern European, Mediterranean and quasi-Arabic cultures, among others, but with occasional flavorings of jazz and even rockabilly.
==Kate Rusby and Kathryn Roberts -- A partnership that demands a sequel or two. Lovely vocal duets and tasteful, spare instrumental accompaniments, notably on "The Recruited Collier," "Constant Lovers," "The Lorry Ride" and "Hunting the Hare." Imaginative covers of Suzanne Vega's "The Queen and the Soldier," sparked by a gently ominous piano and cello backing, and Steve Knightly's chilling "Exile."
== Various, "Wizard Women of the North" -- Compilation of female performers in the Scandinavian folk tradition. Some exquisite solo and group vocal work by the likes of Asne Sunniva Soreide, Susanne Rosenberg and Tellu, and fine instrumentals by Annbjorg Lien and Mari Eggen and Helene Hoye. The album does tend to drift into a kind of woo-woo New Agey territory, though, and its cover photo doesn't help matters in that regard.
Dec. 17
*Viewing: "Soylent Green" -- More post-apocalypse fun for Charlton Heston, getting his turn at taking the time-honored role of cynical cop who finds he Still Cares. As early '70s future-shock movies go, this one isn't all that far-fetched, given that it incorporates still troubling social issues such as climate change, overpopulation and economic polarization. Then again, the concept of women being subjugated to the status of a commodity -- as, literally, furniture -- requires rather more of a leap. Yeah, then there's the idea that people will still be sporting period haircuts and fashions some 50 years on. In any case, it's a fine elegy for Edward G. Robinson, and that Leigh Taylor-Young...
*Nothing like a small-town mystery, especially when a reporter gets it just right. Almost enough to make me wish I was still working in the ole Blackstone Valley.
Dec. 15-16
A weekend mainly taken up by some fairly intensive pre-Christmas straightening up and the adoration of some favored sports teams, namely the Patriots, Steelers, Celtics and BC men's basketball team, which is about to crack the Top 10. Oh, also a viewing of "His Girl Friday," which I hadn't seen in several years. By the way, the scene where Rosalind Russell hitches up her skirt to evade the convoy of coppers and chase after the crooked sheriff is alluring in any day and age, thanks very much.
Dec. 14
*Holiday parties left and right, one of which is highlighted by a conversation with a colleague concerned about her 14-year-old sister, who apparently just "doesn't read." Considering the voracious reading habits of my particular teen, I have to feel fortunate, so I hope to provide a little advice.
*Speaking of OD, she and friend exult in their Age of Greater Responsibility by taking the T into and out of Boston to catch a play. Then again, when I was her age, I had already ridden all over London by bus and Underground and, in the same period, gone to a free concert (anyone remember Grand Funk Railroad?). Not that I'm bragging.
*YD is exultant herself, meanwhile, with the addition of The Sims to our household.
*Widespread furor over recent videotape of Osama bin Laden discussing with apparent detachment and glee the Sept. 11 attacks. Reading some of the transcripts, my most immediate thought was how like many another despot he seemed, regarding people -- depending upon their status as his allies or enemies -- as little more than chesspieces, lynchpins and cat's paws.
Dec. 12
Some (fairly) recent musical acquisitions:
*Kate Rusby, "Little Lights" -- Our Kate doesn't have to do an awful lot to make me happy, and yet...Sure, her songwriting continues to carve out a splendid niche in the contemporary-traditional hybrid category: "I Courted A Sailor" (already part of my repertoire) and especially the heartbreaking "My Young Man," which could be described, albeit insufficiently, as "The Dutchman" as sung by the wife of an English miner. She again does some fine "covers," with Richard Thompson's "Withered and Died" -- her voice lends it a vulnerability that makes the song even more poignant -- and the hymn "Where the Soul of Man Never Dies." Yet there's something about the album that feels by-the-numbers or incomplete. The musicianship, from the ubiquitous John McCusker and Michael McGoldrick, among others, is sterling, but sounds overly familiar. Her composition "William and Davy" holds the promise of a dumb-and-dumber comic ballad, but it ends up more like a film heavily edited for television. Relatively minor quibbles, I'll grant. Maybe she needs a bit of a rest.
*Afro Celt Sound System, "Vol. 3: Further in Time" -- Another strong effort, rather more focused than "Release" and inclined toward the Afro somewhat more than the Celt. "When You're Falling," with Peter Gabriel's characteristically gritty vocals, is unquestionably the highlight of the vocal tracks. Among the instrumentals, "Shadow Man" flies on the strength of its nifty intricate pipes-whistle duet, and "Colossus" is driven by a joyous chant-like scat vocal. The latter part of the album is somewhat more quiet and contemplative, but as a whole it works very well.
*Cheb Mami, "Meli Meli" -- I don't pretend to know a lot about Algerian rai music, but from what I understand it has as much a sociopolitical dimension as a stylistic one. Mami (Sting's co-vocalist on "Desert Rose") is regarded as one of its foremost practitioners, his voice soaring with ornamentation reminiscent of Irish sean nos singing. The title track, with a buoyant chorus, and "Parisien Du Nord" -- Mami's vocals encircling a hip-hop drum rhythm, creating something that sounds both ancient and new -- are stand-outs, but to me the best track is "Azwaw 2" (which I first heard on a Putumayo compilation album), featuring a Breton-Celtic instrumental break played against an exciting Middle Eastern percussive backdrop.
Dec. 11
*Sigh. New York Times obituaries are simply the best:
"Megan Boyd, whose fabled expertise at tying enchantingly delicate fishing flies put her work in museums and the hands of collectors around the world and prompted Queen Elizabeth II to award her the British Empire Medal, died Nov. 15 in Golspie, Scotland. She was 86.
"She did not receive her award from the queen, to whom she explained that she had no one to care for her dog that day. The queen said she quite understood, and Prince Charles, an avid user of Miss Boyd's flies, later made the presentation at his nearby Scottish fishing lodge."
[For more, you can go here, at least for a little while, one would think]
*Book completed: "Schooling," by Heather McGowan -- Barely 14-year-old Catrine is sent by her British father to his old boarding school following the death of her mother, where she encounters alternately sympathetic, cold, friendly, mysterious and exasperating students and faculty -- and one teacher, in particular, who seems perhaps far too solicitous. Encouraging to see Catrine's discovery of inner strengths and resources, but McGowan's barely punctuated stream-of-consciousness and shifting narrative styles (perhaps meant to suggest that all of the story takes place in Catrine's mind) gets to be wearing.
Dec. 10
Lower-ranking entries on the Great List of Current Controversies:
*The Bowl Championship Series: By the amount of vitriol heard, this may be the greatest dispute involving Nebraska -- a slim and less-than-unanimous choice to take on Miami for the national college football crown -- since the free state-slave state debate.
*The "Blue Ball Three": USA Today sportswriters are summarily canned after unwittingly scrawling in what they thought was dust -- but was actually unsealed pigment -- on a sculpture in the office lobby, even though they offered later to pay for the damages. Faithful correspondents to Jim Romenesko's MediaNews filled the virtual letters sack for days on end. And, yes, there's a defense fund, too.
Dec. 7
This may be the best out-of-context post-September 11 social analysis-related quote so far (from The Boston Phoenix, 12/7, reported and written by Dara Colwell):
"'I've had a slight increase in men wanting domination since 9/11,'says Pussy Powers, an escort who offers clients hard-core and sensual services..."
Dec. 3
Not that anyone came to This Space expecting one (sure hope not), but I cannot, alas, offer much in the way of either a solution or semi-coherent thoughts on the newest Israeli-Palestinian situation. At one time, things actually looked somewhat more promising in Gaza or the West Bank than in Ulster.
But then there is this reminder that politics is not only local, it's the only game in town.
Dec. 1-2
*With an unreal 70-plus degrees in the backdrop, OD and I ventured to Marblehead for a Red Herring gig in front of a bookstore I'd have liked to have explored. It was rather tight space in which to perform, but we had a generally amiable crowd, some of whom even proved willing to learn one of the sillier morris dances.
*Somewhat more seasonal, but still pleasant enough for me to wander around the streets and shops of Concord while OD took YD to visit some friends volunteering to be period characters at The Old Manse. I keep forgetting how enjoyable Concord is, even on a Sunday afternoon with the holidays in sight.
*My wife, under the influence of both Tom Lehrer and mathematics, stumbled upon this. My thought: If William Shatner was a mathematician...
Nov. 30
*Au revoir, George Harrison. Watching his interviews during "The Beatles Anthology," it struck me how measured and cautious he was in recounting the Fab Four era, compared to Paul's enthusiasm and earnestness for explaining (or, more cynically, spinning) their life and times, and Ringo's refreshingly unvarnished and plain-ole-guy observations. Quiet, reserved, perhaps, but capable of terrific bits of sardonicism, a la "Piggies" and "Taxman." In terms of musical gratitude, he gets my endorsement for "All Too Much" and the guitar solo in "Let It Be." And "Blackbird." Of course.
*To those who plan to celebrate it, or wish they could, best of luck: http://www.qis.net/~charli/.
Nov. 28
New Bedford coming to grips with discovery of apparent Columbine-style plot by high school students, one of whom supposedly spilled the beans because she was afraid her much-loved, mother-figure teacher would be caught in the crossfire. I'm sure I'm not the only one to observe this but, how better to illustrate the potential importance of a teacher who, by reaching out a little more, becomes perhaps the one positive aspect of a kid's school experience -- and can, literally, make the difference between life and death.
Obligatory metaphorical leftover
Raking leaves on Sunday while simultaneously conversing with 6-year-old Bulgarian neighbor, who asks if I'd like to come to her birthday party in April. Surely, I say, you want to invite friends your own age? Well, she replies, in addition to a "school party" she's going to have a "Bulgarian party."
I ask for details about the latter event: Would it involve Bulgarian food? Bulgarian games? The food, she explains, "will be like in English," but the games will certainly be Bulgarian.
"Hmm, that could be difficult for me, because I don't know any Bulgarian."
"No," she answers. "You sit at the grown-ups' table."
Non-Turkey/Turkey Days
*Thursday: Somewhat at last-minute, but with relatively little fuss and bother, we collaborate with family friends for a veggie Thanksgiving that includes swordfish steak to go with LW's ever-popular (deservedly so) stuffing. Somehow, we four parents wound up in the basement attempting Beatles karoake, along with a piano and mandolin accompaniment. Don't ask. The four kids, wisely, stayed out of the way.
*Friday: Enjoyable as the previous day's meal was, we just couldn't go, er, cold turkey for Thanksgiving. So, restocking the stuffing supply, we do up the bird and settle in for a tryptophan afternoon.
*Saturday: Ah, productivity. After taking a fellow hoops aficianado to watch BC grind Penn State into fine Nitanny powder, thanks to wunderkind Ryan Sidney, I join the family in rolling up the sleeves and we turn the debris-laden, still wall-less kids' room into semi-usable space -- promptly used by OD as her choice of sleep venue. Later, LW and I take in a viewing of "Threads," most of which I'd seen many years before, back when the prospect of super-power nuclear devastation seemed a far likelier horror than rogue terrorists. The film is perhaps a little too clinical at times, and begs a couple of questions, such as how a near-medieval society produces electricity to show old video recordings. But in focusing on several characters, it wisely steers clear of oversentimentality.
*Sunday: Good old-fashioned yardwork carries the day, or a good portion of it. Come late afternoon, I head once again to J.P. O'Hanlon's to make another attempt at joining the weekly session. This time, hooray, all goes very well indeed, and I appear to have made some musical acquaintances on the west side of 495.
Nov. 20
*Fellow parent and friend accompanies me to watch BC women's hoop team take on, and subsequently get blown out by, Arkansas, thanks to the three-point shooting of one Shameka Christon and aggressive ball-hawking by Amy Wright and India Lewis. Still, a fine Guy's Night Out.
*The Taliban seem about ready to go the way of the Whigs, and there are many and sundry reports of Afghanis indulging themselves in previously forbidden activities -- including, as suggested by this gentleman, hyping Disney idealized female historical figures.
Nov. 17-18
*Only hours after a family-plus-guest viewing of "Little Big Man," the kids are up and out at 4 a.m. with friends to see the Leonid meteor shower. LW and I join up with the gang for breakfast at IHOP, fighting back yawns and longing for faster service. Later that day, having dropped OD off at morris and rapper sword practice, I push on to Ayer to suss out the late afternoon-early evening session at J.P. O'Hanlon's. Unfortunately, I have to head back before I so much as get the instruments out of the cases. Another time, I think.
*Book completed: "Out of Place" by Edward Said -- not being altogether versed in Said's scholarly work or Palestinian activism, I had to take this memoir largely at face value. Although Said's recounting of his difficult relationship with his aloof, controlling father and warm but mercurial mother sometimes comes off more like personal therapy (which may be part of his purpose after all), his account of the quest for both a personal and a sociopolitical identity -- as a Palestinian Christian with a complicated American-Egyptian-Syrian-Lebanese background -- is often compelling. Given the events of this fall, it's instructive to be reminded that handy socioreligious and cultural labels can be quite limited, and limiting.
Nov. 16
A carefully plotted and nerve-wrackingly executed family viewing: "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" -- being familiar with, but not heavily invested in, the book(s) helped a lot here: You're perhaps not as overwhelmed by the broomstick-eye view of wizardary's social and cultural mores so that you can't follow the mystery sub-plot. Look, it's great fun. The set designs are imaginative and evocative, particulary the "wand shop" and the Hogwarts staircases. The casting, with a few exceptions, works fine: Robbie Coltrane gives Hagrid just the right blend of sweetness and strength; Alan Rickman's Snape suggests a particularly creepy Peter Cook; and Daniel Radcliffe makes a perfectly good Harry Potter, neither too naive nor too precocious. In fact, seeing the interplay of Harry, Ron and Hermione, how they complete one another, is quite enjoyable. PS: The quidditch game sequence roolZ.
Nov. 15
And a Happy Birthday to older daughter, inching nearer to a learner's permit. Don't worry, all celebratory hugging will be done out of the public eye.
Nov. 14
Gripped in an unexplainable fit of Shatnerism, I offer this. Also, this (is that a G chord Our Bill is attempting? And why is Leonard Nimoy smiling?).
Nov. 12
Disturbing deja vu: About 9:30 a.m. or thereabouts, I head down to the first floor of our office and hear the TV set blaring. The screen is full of smoke and fire, as well as the ubiquitous "news crawl," and my very first thought is, "Why is someone playing a video of Sept. 11?" What discomfiting irony that we take a measure of comfort in the subsequent revelation that Flight 587 apparently was lost to "nothing more" than mechanical failure, rather than the act of zealots.
Nov. 9
*Happy Birthday, younger daughter. Emphasis on the first word.
*I have no joke here, I just like this photo OD took -- and, no, not in the locker room at Fenway. Our former tenants had it in hanging in their closet, which OD happened to pass by, with digital camera at the ready, on their moving-out day.
*Recent musical acquisition: "When the Winds Begin to Sing" by Karan Casey -- my interest in this album was sparked to a great deal by her appearance at this year's Old Songs Festival [see "D&Q" entry in late June]. It's refreshingly free of heavy synthesizer and other facets of the trend toward over-arrangement sadly afflicting many female vocalists in the Celtic/Gaelic genre. To be sure, there's plenty of instrumentation, including splendid guitar work by Robbie Overson and fine contributions by ubiquitous Michael McGoldrick, but the effect is to sharpen and drive, not dull, Casey's vocals. Highlights: "Who Put the Blood?," "Eppie Morrie" and, in particular, Louis De Paor and John Spillane's "Buile Mo Chroi," a Gaelic-English hybrid that fairly seethes with pain borne of love, Casey and her accompanists bouncing riffs off of one another to great effect.
Nov. 7
A few new additions to my "Repertoire" page.
Nov. 3-4
*OD accompanies me to a somewhat unconventional yet quite appropriate Red Herring gig: a private party held to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day. Crisp but comfortable night, with an appreciate audience, and a flourish of hand-held sparklers -- in lieu of fireworks -- climaxes the festivities.
*Fireworks in Arizona, meanwhile, proclaim an unlikely end to the World Series, which seemed all but certain to fall into the Yankees' grasp once more. But the Diamondbacks' Luis Gonzalez, thin and wispy-looking yet prodigious enough a hitter to thrust himself into the home run race for a spell, cranks a single off the Yanks' seemingly invincible Mariano Rivera, and pandemonium ensues -- as does, one suspects, no small amount of wistfulness among Sox fans.
Nov. 2
This may be my most favorite photo of a California politician ever:
I wish I knew whether he was levitating an Associated Press reporter or gesturing hypnotically so that any and all terrorists would attack northern Nunavut convinced that it was greater Los Angeles.
