June 21, 2022
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January 07, 2022
Mr. Persip
January 4, 2022
While exploring memories of childhood on Coltland Drive, I remembered watching “Mr Persip,” as we knew him, striding purposefully across the field in front of our house, ramrod straight, lean as a rail, wearing his garrison cap and U.S. Army uniform jacket. I didn’t have the word in my young vocabulary yet but distinguished, dignified, and proud come to mind.
His home on Pomeroy Avenue was within sight of 7 and 15 Coltland Drive, the only two houses on the dirt road, where Sammy Colt and I lived.
Sammy Colt and I were the "eddieandbill" of Coltland Drive. From kindergarten to 6th grade, we were inseparable. We walked to school together, were safety patrol "officers" holding red flags to halt motorists when kids crossed the street in front of Redfield School, a fifteen minute walk from home. We found endless ways to entertain ourselves...yet another story to unpack.
One day when we were playing marbles on the dirt road in front of our houses, 8 or 9 year-old Sammy and I got invited to visit Mr. Persip's home.
We didn't know it but we were about to be introduced something we'd never seen before, probably the reason Mr. Persip invited us, a large macaw parrot, with shimmering tropical hues of green and gold on its feathers that made it appear regal, housed in an oversized wire cage in the living room.
We were transfixed watching its herky-jerky movements, the way it would watch us with its head cocked, one eye turned our way. Its giant scary looking beak that gobbled sunflower seeds made us keep a safe distance from its cage.
On the day it actually talked, we were gobsmacked…”Polly want a cracker,” I swear it said.
I can see Mr. Persip chuckling to himself. He enjoyed watching our youthful rapture while looking up at that big golden wired cage every time we visited, waiting for that miracle to happen again.
To us, he was Mr. Persip, happy to be known as a kind neighbor by these two little kids.
Recently I learned that he was the grandson of Civil War veteran Charles Hamilton of the famous all black Massachusetts 54th Regiment. Looking back, I know he felt a connection with his grandfather, reflected in the dignity and pride in the way he moved, behaved, and likely the reason he entered the army.
I had no idea about his charitable work cited in his obituary. I wonder what it was in his chemistry that pushed him to act with such empathy and kindness. I speculate that being a man of color, he was not always afforded the respect he showed to others. Maybe ‘calling’ is a better word to describe what he did.
He did some of his charitable work mentioned in the news clipping at the former Union Railroad Station, a hundred yards from my immigrant great-grandfather's store on West Street… a trove of memories for another time.
How I’d love to talk to Mr. Persip today.
Image courtesy of Dave Laczak, senior assistant, Local and Genealogy Department
Local History & Genealogy Department
Berkshire Athenaeum
One Wendell Avenue, Pittsfield, MA 01201
Local History & Genealogy Department
Berkshire Athenaeum
One Wendell Avenue, Pittsfield, MA 01201
POST SCRIPT
A charter member of the American Legion Post 68 since 1919, his 151st Depot Brigade took part in the Meuse Argonne offensive in WW I. He was district Sergeant At Arms for 25 years and Post Commander in 1956. He never missed a Memorial Day or Veterans Day parade that I watched every year as a kid. He was, in fact, known as "Mr. American Legion." He made 92 trips to Union Station with the legion color guard to give local draftees a proper send off. A story in his obituary that I love; for 12 years, he led collections at movie theaters for the March of Dimes, Jimmy Fund, Will Rogers Fund and Multiple Sclerosis Funds. He collected about $75,000. When he was presented with a purse of $500 at one of the many testimonials for his activities, he turned around and gave it to the hospital for which he had been raising money. To a man living on what I assume was a small military pension, he could have used it to pay for food and utilities for a long time. He was a giver. It just did not square with his nature. His service, let alone the grace with which he lived his life, is a shining example of America's "greatest generation".
January 01, 2022
Beverly Cleary: An Appreciation
APRIL 12, 1916 — MARCH 25, 2021
I thought of her as she was included in To those who departed in 2021: A look back at the notable figures who died
Whether by pictographs in caves or the printed word, we as a species are hard wired to tell and listen to stories. Beverly Cleary was a story teller who had an uncanny touch to reach her audience.
As a fourth grade teacher at the John Pierce School in Brookline, MA for 34 years (1970-2003, an era in which an iPhone was not carried along to school with lunch), I chose Cleary's book "Ramona The Pest" to join the ranks of many books I read aloud to my students. Cleary was the one of the subjects of "Making The Grade," a column I wrote for the Brookline TAB in the last two years of my career.
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2016/04/beverly-cleary-turns-100.html
April 11, 2016
Beverly Cleary turns 100 today. The Oregon housewife wrote some of the most popular children’s books of the twentieth century. Amazingly, the books still have standing…and popularity today.
For years, books like “Ramona The Pest” and “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” were a feature of my reading/writing program at the John Pierce School in Brookline. Cleary’s books were great read-aloud stories. The author had a canny sense of how to portray children navigating bumps that are part of the process of growing up.
I often chose “Ramona The Pest” as a first class read-aloud. From my point of view, the lively discussions and writing responses were a first step in establishing a bond, a shared experience, that shaped a class identity that fostered empathy, cooperation, teamwork and a positive work ethic .
My fourth graders, at nine years old, were old enough to be able to look at Ramona Quimby’s questions and actions in the rear view mirror. They were several years older than Ramona in her first few months of kindergarten, could feel quite a bit more grown up and empathize with her behavior. They really got it when Ramona was told on her first day of kindergarten to "sit here for the present" and she does, waiting for her present.
Cleary kept it simple but Ramona’s questions and dilemmas were universal and her character indelibly drawn. Cleary’s cast of characters usually involved Ramona’s older sister Beezus (Beatrice), her parents, especially her mother, and her friend Henry Huggins, but Ramona was the axis around which the stories were told.
Beverly Cleary captured a child’s universe with a charming economy of style and keen observation. Ramona was no angel. She had trouble paying attention sometimes, and once was sent home for gently pulling the hair of the girl sitting in front of her because it looked so much like a spring and out of curiosity she wanted to see if it worked like one. My fourth graders chuckled when Ramona called herself a “kindergarten drop out”. And they reveled in their blooming maturity when Ramona talked about singing the "Dawnser song" in her first days of kindergarten, her interpretation of "The Star Spangled Banner.
I liked Beverly Cleary’s books because, in a non-preachy format, her books offered a platform to talk about values, character, and issues like sibling rivalry, being picked on, a father losing his job, unfairness in life... described by the author with a forthright but tender touch. Some of the discussions we had about what made Ramona tick resurfaced later in the year as we read other books or dealt with real life situations.
Peel back the personas of many teachers and you’ll find an entertainer… that certainly applied to me from 1974 to 2004. Sitting in the chair next to my cluttered desk, with twenty nine-year-olds sitting on the carpet in front of me, adopting voices for each character, pausing for effect in dramatic moments, using a little body English to embellish, making eye contact with my audience, I wanted the stories to come alive. If it involved theatrics, all the better. And I loved it.
Cleary published her first book, “Henry Huggins,” in 1950. Between 1955 and 1999 Ramona was featured in eight books and published in 20 different languages. The fact that she still has adoring fans, and still has a wry sense of humor, is remarkable. Her response to the question about the secret of living to be 100 sounds like it could have come from the mouth of Ramona Quimby.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Photo of Cleary and fans by VERN FISHER/MONTEREY HERALD VIA AP/ FILE
https://www.beverlycleary.com/
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2016/04/beverly-cleary-turns-100.html
Top Five Beverly Cleary Books by Lynn Lobash, Manager of Reader ServicesMarch 26, 2021
- #1 Ramona the Pest (1968)
- #3 Dear Mr. Henshaw (1983) NOTE: Cleary said she began the novel after "two little boys who didn't know one another asked me to write about a boy whose parents were divorced. And I had never thought about it, but I said I'd—give it a try." Kirkus review said this.
- #4 Ribsy (1964)
December 29, 2021
Joan Didion: A Moment With The Author
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2002/10/on_reading_joan.html
In 2002, I took my first writing class, held at Cambridge Center for Adult Education. A first assignment was to read an excerpt from a Joan Didion essay.
Joan's response to this essay is below this story.
On reading Joan Didion for the first time
by Paul Tamburello
Why I write.
That was the title of the first article I was required to read in the first writing class of my writing career. After reading Joan Didion’s essay, I feel compelled to write a sequel:
Why I don’t write.
I don't want to write any more because Joan Didion just killed me. She killed me with her intellect, she killed me with her imagination, she killed me with her keen sense of observation, and she killed me with her ability to structure a piece that, like a Charlie Parker solo, started off with an expressed idea, hurtled off into impossibly twisting and turning tangents, and then miraculously landed on its feet where it started. The murder weapon had the fingerprints of “voice” smeared all over it.
How could she do that? Or more to the point, how could I ever in my lifetime even come close to writing like Joan Didion. I just don't have the required tools.
Joan wonders about everything. Joan sees a woman walk into a room and she gets an idea to write not just an article on, say, the effect of exotic perfume on bystanders, but an entire novel. And it’s not like she sees some broad outline, but she nails descriptions, details, and a whole chapter. I look at the same woman striding into a room and see hips, legs, arch of the back in relation to arc of the bosoms. Hopeless. Joan wonders “why she was in the airport and why Victor didn't know”. I wonder what’s her phone number. Hopeless.
I don't mind that Joan admitted that she stole the title of the essay from George Orwell. All writers steal, they’re an incestuous lot. I should know from my other career. I'm a teacher. We steal ideas from each other regularly, then, like blue jays homesteading in the nests of other birds, we transform them into our own. I also get ideas from reading the news, columns in the newspaper, listening to the radio, and looking out the window. Ideas are a dime a dozen. Nothing’s new under the sun. Writing something worth reading...well, that’s another matter entirely. Even if you do it with a purloined idea.
Joan says writing is an aggressive act, “an invasion, an imposition of the writer’s sensibility on the reader’s most private space.” Then she unleashes a dazzling display of literary firepower, leaving a trail in my writer’s mind like a tank rolling through a corn field. Her writer’s voice is as strong as a nuclear reaction. If Joan Didion were a country, George Bush would be declaring war on her for creating a weapon of mass destruction, causing developing writers to shrink back to their intellectual borders and not even think about penning a piece of literary journalism and signing it.
And I'm not fooled by that Brutus-like disclaimer that she drops on page 18, saying that she doesn't consider herself a writer because she doesn't think in the abstract. About ten words after that, she tosses off a phrase like “I found myself contemplating the Hegelian dialectic and would find myself concentrating instead on a flowering pear tree outside my window and the particular way the petals fell on my floor.” The lady doth protest too much. Since when do you cite Hegel to prove you’re not an abstract thinker? I felt like she flipped me her literary middle finger and smirked.
She says she never took drugs but when she says she wanted “to write a novel so elliptical and fast that it would be over before you noticed it, a novel so fast it would scarcely exist on the page at all.”, I rolled my eyes and said, “Yeah, right.” I can just see her in her tiny Berkeley apartment, toking up on some really good “tops” from Nepal, and riffing with her classmates about “a book in which anything that happened would happen off the page”, and seeing the really deep and connected nature of the universe. She’s just one of the lucky ones who could wake up the next day and actually remember those riffs with enough clarity to write them down.
Whatta grandstander. If she were a football player she’d be spiking the ball into the end zone abut every fourth paragraph. Take the bevatron for example. When she first gratuitously drops that name in the fourth paragraph, I thought it was something you sat on to get yourself cleaned up up after going to the bathroom. Is there any good reason why a bevatron should show up in this essay, other than to embarrass the rest of us with our ignorance of the contraption, whatever it might be.
Just about the time I decided to get up and leave the class, having had my vote canceled by the sheer virtuosity of the first three pages of this essay, I read the sentence “It took me some years to discover what I was. Which was a writer.”
It dawned on me that Joan might not be trying to kill me after all, but was offering to rescue me from giving up my desire to pound on the keys. By the time I finished the essay, I realized that Joan was telling me, with extended metaphors and her intellectual “A” game, what I knew from reading Donald Graves, Don Murray, Annie LaMott and others who have the compassionate habit of writing in plain English, that writing “tells you, you don't tell it” . And that you learn to write better by writing often. And probably taking a class and getting ideas from other fledgling writers.
So I guess I won’t drop out of class and sign up for cooking. I’ll keep writing , even though I know I have a ‘shaky passport” when I put my fingers on the keyboard. I’ll just keep plunking along so I can, like Joan, find out what I already know. But please, someone show me the door if I so much as breathe anything about a bevatron.
October 2, 2002
I handed my essay to Joan when i met her briefly after she spoke at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts not long after I wrote it. Here's her response.
JOAN'S NOTE
Dear Paul Tamburello,
Thanks for giving me the "Why I Don't " piece. Needless to say, it pleased me! RE the bevatron, it was a major presence on the Berkley campus, everyone's symbol of (hard to decipher) up the hill. All my love, Joan
December 26, 2021
December 24, 2021
Christmas 2021
December 24, 2021
Looking out the landing window at the top the stairs tonight, there will be the spirit of a seven-year-old boy residing in the body of a grown man, certain that any minute now he will see a sleigh drawn by eight tiny reindeer streaking through the midnight sky, destined to land gracefully on the roof, the Jolly man in the red suit and iconic cap with white trim climbing down the chimney to distribute gifts I have yearned for all year long, staying just long enough to fortify himself with the plate of cookies I have left by the fireplace, then continue on his mission to deliver joy and a welcome bit of normalcy to the world, if only for a few hours.
Noel…
Merry Christmas!
December 13, 2021
November 26, 2021
November 22, 2021
Marcus Roberts: "Gershwin For Lovers"
Coffee Series servings...notes scribbled while listening to my CD collection as I enjoy my first cup of coffee...
MARCUS ROBERTS, Gershwin for Lovers, Columbia, 1994
This album - piano, bass, drums - is the penultimate classic jazz trio collaboration. Roberts interprets Gershwin as swing, a subtle rumba, and jazz infused ballads. He mixes it up with gorgeous lightly struck chords and arpeggios that nail the personal groove he stamps on Gershwin songs.
I’ve heard Gershwin 100 times. This is one of the most refreshing. Swing, sly Latin, a soft hint of blues, all three musicians in the same groove, point and counterpoint. Percussion soft sweet and definitive, the arrangements are inventive and totally in spirit with the Gershwin intent that can be performed buoyantly, or as a ballad, or soft or lazily swinging.
Roberts finds the groove between fresh and traditional. Upright bass of Robert Veal and fresh riffs by drummer Herlin Riley take off in flight that is always in the vapor trail of Marcus Roberts lead.
A Foggy Day
The Man I Love
Our Love Is Here To Stay
Summertime
Someone To Watch Over Me
It Ain’t Necessarily So
Nice Work If You Can Get It
They Can’t Take That Away From Me
How Long This Been Going On?
But Not For Me
Produced by Marcus Roberts
Executive Producer Dr. George Butler
A Nocturnal Ramble
October 12, 2021
Nocturnal ramble up Palfrey Street and beyond.
A perfect cloudless autumn evening, dusky dome of the universe overhead, Jupiter presiding in regal resplendence, this is a night for rambling and ruminating.
Trees lining the street, not yet yielding their chlorophyll, exhale the oxygen I am breathing in by the lung-full on an inspired march up the 45° incline of Palfrey Street.
The organic olfactory rush of just-cut grass, freshly laid down mulch covering gardens and flowerbeds, the uncomplicated quality of it in the still of the night, catches me by surprise, transports me to my earliest memories of autumn evenings when I was a kid.
I’m overwhelmed by nostalgia, grateful for the time travel to a simpler, less complicated world, one in which the biggest choice that I pondered for the whole month of October was how would I make a really fun costume, one in which my mother would perennially come to my rescue.
The Halloween lights and decorations along Palfrey Street, eye popping or subtle, a welcome tonic showing home owners having fun in these days when we’re grateful to be reminded of a sense of normalcy.
Feet propped up as I sit on my front porch, I'm satisfied with an invigorating march around my neighborhood with surprising reminisces from the past and an aromatherapy session to boot.
Watertown from one of the highest elevations in town.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
October 23, 2021
CVS Orchestra Al Fresco
October 10, 2021
Phil, also known as Dutch (not Doug) Is bringing the joy to the quiet parking lot behind CVS on Main Street in Watertown.
This man is no amateur. He got his affinity for music by listening to his mother’s piano playing and singing when he was a kid. After learning music theory at the Berklee College of Music, he joined a bunch of rock ‘n’ roll music bands , one of which opened for Ray Charles (not sure where or when). Star struck, he and his mates got to watch Ray perform from the wings at the side of the stage.
Today, situated behind the back door of CVS on Main Street, Watertown, there’s always lots of foot traffic. Street musicians and buskers have to have a specific frame of mind to perform. They go through stretches of time where people pay more attention to the parking meters or their phones than to them and their music.
Buskers like Dutch Phil (not Doug, as I refer to him in the video) are here because they they need to play, sort of like they need to breathe.They may pocket a few dollars to cover gas money and a meal or two. When they perform solo, they’re playing for their muse and to feed their psyches with the creative process that, like a songbird in its cage, needs the freedom to stretch its wings and explore the world before returning home.
There is a lotta magic that Phil coaxes from his Yamaha electric keyboard - powered by a cord attached to the battery of his car a few spaces away from his makeshift bandstand strategically set up across from the exit of CVS. Musicians like Phil have a vast library of standards tucked away in their memory cells. It amazes me that he can switch from blues to the American songbook to swing to rock ‘n’ roll at his own whim or the request of a passerby.
His sense of phrasing and tempo is elegant. His spontaneous riffs and quotes from other songs appear then disappear back into the main frame of the song like the beams of the headlights disappear after passing his bandstand.
His curly gray hair poking out from under his baseball cap, he is totally present. Nevermind this is a bland concrete parking lot. This man is a commanding presence with the improvisational spirit of a Keith Jarrett. Who cares if the audience is a bunch of empty cars and the occasional shopper at CVS or visitor to the ATM machine at the bank next-door. My guess is that he's imagining playing for a full house at the Chevalier Theatre in nearby Medford, MA.
He doesn’t appear to have a definite schedule. He does have an unshakable presence and a remarkably nimble style that that samples music from every genre he’s ever heard..he's a one man mood elevator, as powerful as a prescription you just got from CVS.
This rollicking video of "When The Saints Go Marchin' In" is Dutch Phil in full, with impressive keyboard panache in his over the top concluding riff.
Video by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Apologies, this it Dutch playing, not Doug.
October 16, 2021
Hanging Out To Dry
Hanging out to dry...a rare sight, colorful, reminiscent of a time BD...before dryers.
And memories of watching my grandmother take clothes from the washer, squeeze water from them in a hand driven wringer attached to the washing machine then take them outside to dry on the clothes line... in all seasons.
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
October 13, 2021
An Autumn Nocturnal Ramble
A nocturnal ramble up Palfrey Street and beyond...
A perfect cloudless autumn evening, dusky dome of the universe overhead, Jupiter presiding in regal resplendence.
This is a night for rambling and ruminating.
Trees lining the street, not yet yielding their chlorophyll, exhale the oxygen I am breathing in by the lung-full on an inspired march up the 45° incline of Palfrey Street.
The organic olfactory rush of just-cut grass, freshly laid down mulch covering gardens and flowerbeds, the uncomplicated quality of it in the still of the night, catches me by surprise, transports me to my earliest memories of autumn evenings when I was a kid.
I’m overwhelmed by nostalgia, grateful for the time travel to a simpler, less fraught world, one in which the biggest choice that I pondered for the whole month of October was how would I make a really fun costume, one in which my mother would perennially come to my rescue.
The Halloween lights and decorations along Palfrey Street, eye popping or subtle, a welcome tonic showing home owners having fun in these days when we’re grateful to be reminded of a sense of normalcy.
Feet propped up as I sit on my front porch, I'm satisfied with an invigorating march around my neighborhood with surprising reminiscences from the past and an aromatherapy session to boot.
Jupiter, a luminously present, nearly upstaging the moon.
Watertown from one of the highest elevations in town, Palfrey Street.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
October 01, 2021
August 08, 2021
May 25, 2021
May 10, 2021
Gerard's Sky High Priced Pies
May 1, 2021
By the time you pass the hand painted sign in white chalk on a black piece of plywood, the one that reads, “HOME MADE PIES” it’s probably too late. Doing about 50 mph eastbound on busy Route 2 you are passing Gerard’s Panetta’s Farm. Unless you have very quick reflexes, you’ll have to wait till next time to see how good those homemade pies might be.
Last year a house guest brought a Gerard’s Pie for dessert. It made an impression on my taste buds.
Today, the farm stand is the last stop after a stroll down Main Street in Concord. As soon as I saw the first sign, I was on a landing path to the quirky farm stand. It looks like countless other such stands in the area. Except for the giant refrigerator packed with those pies that dominates one side of the store.
I am about to buy two large 9 inch pies till my travel companion tugs on my sleeve, pointing to this sign... "Fresh PIes Daily LG $27.95, SM $17.95"
After recovering from sticker shock, I settle for a 4-and-a-half-inch strawberry rhubarb pie at $17.95 and head for the counter nearly hidden by a wall of bric-a-brac.
“We’ve been making pies for 26 years,” says Amy. Her husband is the real deal Gerard.
“Once we began selling more and more pies, we outsourced the baking. Companies gave us great samples. Once we got into production, the quality went downhill and didn’t match what our pies tasted like. We decided to make our own pies.”
Judging by her age, they must have started in their young twenties.
They’re doing something right.
“50% of our customers are loyal frequent buyers,” Amy says. “Last week one of them gave a pie to a friend in Westborough. Two days later, the recipient drove here to buy some of her own.”
There are over 50 pies in the giant cooler.
I have a friend who makes the best pies, crust, fillings I’ve tasted since the days my grandmother’s pies ruled the earth. Gerard’s don’t compete with those but are some of the best non-homemade pies around.
They taste real good…but $27.95 good? I don’t think so.
Aside from the range of classic farm stand products, those two refrigerators against the wall are filled with a Pillsbury inspired gold mine.
The rest of the offerings at the farm stand are in line with those of other stands in the area. The small strawberry rhubarb pie? I'm still scratching my head at the price but give credit to Gerard and Amy for having a sense of supply and demand and the power of their reputation.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
April 27, 2021
Loretta Lynn: Still Woman Enough...at 89!
And, according to this interview with Raina Douris, she still is.
https://www.npr.org/2021/04/23/990217558/loretta-lynn-transforms-classic-songs-on-still-woman-enough
No way you'd ever guess the woman belting our these songs on this album was anywhere close to her age. She's got the pipes, the attitude, and the overwhelming desire to let those vocal chords and coal country lungs loose. I don't believe she can spend a day without singing any more than she can spend one without breathing.That Kentucky twang and her emotional grounded-ness in the hollers around her is as deep as those coal mines a few miles from where she was born. Her natural beauty has been enhanced by modern day face lifting...vanity, commercial necessity? Who knows.
Nothing artificial is necessary to alter that piercing, achy, proud, pure tone of voice with pitch perfect tonality she's had no inclination to cap since she was born in Butcher Hollow, Kentucky on April 14, 1931.
"She became a part of the country music scene in Nashville in the 1960s. In 1967, she had the first of 16 No. 1 hits, out of 70 charted songs as a solo artist and a duet partner.[10] Her later hits include "Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' (With Lovin' on Your Mind)", "You Ain't Woman Enough (To Take My Man)", "Fist City", and "Coal Miner's Daughter".[11]
Lynn focused on women's issues with themes about philandering husbands and persistent mistresses. Her music was inspired by issues she faced in her marriage. She increased the boundaries in the conservative genre of country music by singing about birth control ("The Pill"), repeated childbirth ("One's on the Way"), double standards for men and women ("Rated 'X'"), and being widowed by the draft during the Vietnam War ("Dear Uncle Sam").[12]" Wikipedia
During the interview, Lynn says "Tell the truth in your songs."
That's exactly what she did, in subjects so far ahead of public taste that some radio stations refused to put then on air.
https://www.allmusic.com/album/still-woman-enough-mw0003469057
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loretta_Lynn
Personal aside: a photo of Loretta Lynn before she had all that youth culture work done on her face would be a master stroke against ageism that apparently equates age and appearance with ability ...or even worse, your relevance.
Is it too hard to equate what your ears are hearing with this lovely aging face taken a few years ago (much more appealing than the plastic face she acquired more recently?) C'mon, Loretta, your face right there is inspiring for young singers to grow into and for your contemporaries to be proud of.
February 28, 2021
The Ice Panda
February 26, 2021
He appeared this morning . On a small patch of snow. The only remnant of the 2 feet of a snow bank, now evaporated, that had lined my street for the past 10 days.
Upright. Indomitable. Inscrutable.
A mystery, a miracle, a little soldier of fortune
He was about a foot away from where my snowblower would have shredded his poor furry body. And another foot from where a giant snow plow would have relocated him Lord knows where and how far away.
He scared a neighbor who thought it was a deranged overgrown possibly rabid chipmunk to be avoided at all costs earlier in the morning.
Close inspection revealed he must have been a well-loved object of affection by a child somewhere within plowing distance of the front of my house. Its gray matted down and soaked weight and the fact its tiny feet were frozen to the ground helped him maintain an upright posture, looking alert, perhaps a sentinel guarding against other marauding soaked toy animals with malicious intent.
Three hours later, after a trip to Home Depot to buy supplies, there he was, not having moved one inch. By nightfall, his island of snow had totally disappeared and there he stood watching, waiting for something to happen.
An act of kindness was in order, A gesture, a salute, recognition of a minor miracle. I lashed him to the top of the fire hydrant a few feet from where he had been keeping watch to give him a better view of the surroundings. And elevate him to the safe throne he so richly deserved after all his travails.
Sometime in the coming days he may be seen and retrieved by his owner. In the meantime there's a glint of satisfaction in his two tiny black eyes. Against all odds, he has prevailed and has a future.
POSTSCRIPT
His nickname was suggested by a friend who recalled the discovery of Otzi the "Ice Man" found in Italy's south Tyrol mountains in 1991, although not with a copper ax in in hand!
First appearance of the Ice Panda after a warm windy night evaporated the remainder of a snow bank in front of my house.
Vigilant night...
and day...
The Icc Panda appeared after a major ice melt of the snowbank over a week of unseasonably warm temperatures.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
February 21, 2021
February 03, 2021
Opening Day at Fenway Park - Covid19 Vaccinations!
February 1, 2021
https://www.boston.com/news/coronavirus/2021/01/30/coronavirus-vaccine-fenway-park
Phase 2 of the Massachusetts rollout of Covid vaccine began yesterday, February 1 at Fenway Park in Boston.
The Cambridge Innovation Center (CIC) hit a Grand Slam..
No Fenway Franks, no hawkers tossing paper bags of peanuts up ten rows in the grandstand with better accuracy than some of the pitchers on the mound, no guys standing on milk crates in the concourse selling programs, no sound of a full house crowd cheering on the Sox - something waaay better - the first round of vaccinations in Phase 2 in Massachusetts.
The concrete concourse inside the 112-year-old diamond in the rough known as Fenway Park (or 'Paak' depending on where you grew up) had a lineup of volunteers and professionals who worked together with the efficiency of the crew that covers the entire infield in five minutes flat when the rain begins to fall during a ball game.
Today demanded that kind of efficiency - a nor'easter was on the way. In a blast email from CIC, everyone with an appointment after 2 PM was urged to cancel or report in the morning. I was in the lineup at 10 AM, my friend Susaan at 3:30 PM. We rolled out to Fenway at 9 AM. Beat the storm, maybe even beat the crowd. We did beat the storm. Beat the crowd not so much - lots of people had the same idea we did.
Not to worry. The CIC logistics managed the plan like a veteran manager would pencil in his lineup for a big game. This huge set up with hundreds of moving parts from entry at Gate A on Jersey Street to the exit on the same street. It was flawless.
Show your confirmed appointment at Gate A. Enter the concourse. Read the signs inside the door. Stay on the circular 6 foot decals. Get a little loose about compliance and a floor manager points to the decal. You sheepishly stand right on it. When you reach a row of desks separated by plexiglass, show your insurance card, sign a form confirming normal temperature and no contact with anyone with Covid19 symptoms and you join the line ahead.
The line snakes way up the concourse to a destination unseen as yet. Every 30 to 90 seconds follow the person in front of you to stand on the next 6 foot decal. After half an hour, notice the 15 minute waiting area in which people are sitting after being vaccinated. You're getting close.
Ten minutes later see a row of chairs, tiny desks and a nurse or medical student vaccinating those ahead. One raises her hand. I'm walking from the on-deck circle to the plate.
I am inexplicably nervous for a moment then full of anticipation. Amanda greets me, has a sealed vaccination needle of Pfizer–BioNTech COVID‑19 vaccine ready. Which arm? Take off shirt. Right arm. A quick alcohol rub to clean then a shot i barely felt. WOW...DONE!
Amanda fills out a COVID-19 Vaccination Card with my DOB, Product Name, Manufacturer and Lot Number on one side and "Reminder! Return for a second dose! with 2/22/21 she's inscribed on the reverse side.
Another card she gives me - "Important Next Steps" has an address cic-health.com/Fenway and a QR code on one side and "Please remain in the observation area until 11:07 AM on the other side.
I am directed to a chair by a volunteer who checks the time. A few minutes later another volunteer with a laptop on a rolling cart greets me. "Would you like to schedule your second dose?"
"Yes indeed!" Then and there I officially sign up for my second dose on February 22.
While waiting for the next 15 minutes I peruse the "What to Expect after Getting a Covid-19 Vaccine" brochure.
What seamless planning and execution! Fenway Park is easy access by public or private transportation, the whole shebang happens undercover and indoors so no worries about weather. Semi-trailer sized space heaters keep the concrete and steel interior warm. It is 32 degrees F outside.
A first dose of vaccination is not a magic bullet. I still need to mask up, wash my hands, keep a small social bubble. I'll do the same after the second dose. I'm doing what's necessary because some day down the road I want to go dancing, head to my favorite eateries, and visit my friends in Lafayette, LA.
Everyone here today has hopes, dreams, and anticipation for a future without Covid. Some have had losses so much deeper than mine, losing friends, parents, businesses. I am healthy enough. My friends and families have not been savaged by Covid 19. I am mindful and grateful for that.
I'm in that crevice between grieving for what's lost and hoping for what can be recovered. Time and again i remind myself of the words of the poet Antonio Machado as he considered the 600-mile pilgrimage walk El Camino Real - "There is no road, walking makes the road."
I'm walking.
XXXXXXX
Start at Gate A on Jersey Street
Line up, sign up
Follow the line...
My turn !
Make an appointment for second shot while in recovery area
Photo opp on the way out...
Who knew the most important event this year at Fenway would have nothing to do with baseball!
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Helpful sites
https://www.boston.com/news/coronavirus/2021/01/30/coronavirus-vaccine-fenway-park
https://www.mass.gov/info-details/covid-19-vaccination-locations
or Google "how long is the california el camino real"
January 16, 2021
December 30, 2020
Joan Baez: A New Stage
December 28, 2020
20/12/28 Joan Baez/Stacey Abrams
Joan Baez: A New Stage
When 79 year-old Joan Baez announced her farewell tour ending her public singing career I assumed she was sailing over the horizon and anchoring at some distant island of quiet retirement. Wrong.
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2018/09/joan-baez-fare-thee-well.html
Today my friend Myke Farricker dropped in to deliver a Christmas present.
From the size and shape I could tell it must be a photo, perhaps one of the historic fundraising bike rides we have done for the ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis)s) cause . Wrong again.
The bold and beautiful limited-edition portrait of Stacey Abrams stunned me.
“Check the name of the artist,” Myke says. Another shock.
It’s not a far leap to know that Baez as always had a social activist streak.
Now instead of using her one-of-a-kind immediately recognizable voice she is using color and canvas to make her point.
I don’t know whether artistic ability comes from the left brain or the right brain or the heart. All I know is that her drive to put her shoulder and talent to the wheel of social justice is unrelenting. Never happy with the status quo of politics in general, the past four years have been a car-crash affront to her political sensibilities.
She is pushing back.
To her, music has always had a point.In her politically framed songs, she knows that her sentiments can be a driver to raise consciousness...and money.
Painting has become her new voice, she is a force to be reckoned with. This may be the most important stage in her life.
Case in point: 100% of proceeds pledged to Abram's "Fair Fight" PAC
- DETAILS
-
Handmade
-
Height: 15.5 inches
-
Width: 11 inches
Limited edition (250) archival pigment prints of the Stacey Abrams portrait painted by Joan Baez titled "Georgia on my Mind." Printed on Moab Entrada natural paper, these prints measure 11" x 15.5" including a one inch deckled border. Each print has been personally hand-signed and numbered by Joan Baez and comes with a certificate of authenticity. Prints are $200 each. Shipped in durable triangular tubes.
Another portrait ...sent to me by Susaan Straus...a friend just tried to purchase...SOLD OUT!
This photo from Joan Baez website
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
December 27, 2020
Winter Holiday: Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas and Kwanzaa: American Routes Radio
The vapor trail from Santa's sleigh heading back to the North Pole may be dissipating but the music in his wake is still ringing in my ears thanks to American Routes...
LISTEN right here...http://americanroutes.wwno.org/archives/show/1200/Winter-Holiday-Solstice-Hanukkah-Xmas-Kwanzaa
This week's edition of American Routes - Two hours of Americana that celebrates a whole range of songs for the season.
Tune in and feel the pulse of the season in as many flavors as you find in a fruitcake - rhythm & blues, blues, ballads, country and rock, in as many tempos as the number of ornaments on your Christmas tree, Hanukah bush or colors on your Kwanzaa candle holder.
Spitzer is the equivalent of a Santa Claus with a bag of gifts that satisfy the soul thirsting for seasonal sentiments only quenched by voice and instruments. Not to mention that a few of them are played as universally as Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer.
From the first selection to the last, Santa Spitzer dispenses gifts he has shopped for all year long, hidden in his closet, and gleefully stuffed in the bag he opens for us today.
The first hour features several artists you'd never hear on your radio and rock or croon righteously. The second hour is loaded with familiar artists moved by the spirit of the season and deliver chestnuts disarmingly recast from the original versions. Eartha Kitt, Chuck Berry, Willie Nelson, Otis Redding, Herbie Hancock with Corinne Bailey Rae, John Coltrane all slide into the program as easily as the big man with the round belly slides down our chimneys.
The second hour is more dedicated to songs celebrating Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Christmas and New Year. Opens with lyrical Andy Statmam's Klezmer clarinet solo "Old Brooklyn" followed by a marzipan collection of Carole King (Hanukkah songs), New Birth Brass Band, Chuck Berry, Willie Nelson, Otis Redding, Herbie Hancock with Corinne Bailey Rae, Bruce, John Coltrane, among others.
Spitzer doesn't just drop presents under the tree. While you open his carefully wrapped gifts he tells you stories of where he found them and how they fit so synchronously with the other presents. After Chuck Berry's bluesy "Merry Christmas Baby" ... "Berry is covering in 1958 the original that Charles Brown made famous in 1947. Other covers were made by Elvis, Otis Redding, and Mae West..."
After the first of John Coltrane’s two compositions," This is a 1963 take on 'Greensleeves,' the old ballad from 1580 with Coltrane joined by his legendary quartet, piano McCoy Tyner, bass Reggie Garrison, and trumpet Freddie Hubbard."
I love this. Music has roots, songs and interpretations have antecedents. Every week Nick Spitzer digs in and tells us about them on American Routes.
"With Kwanzaa upon us, we'll close with music from the Georgia Sea islands, Lord Invader and his calypso composition Father Christmas," Spitzer says. Up comes West Indian singer Lord Invader joined by playful saxophone, drums, hand cymbals and hand clapping followed by the Georgia Sea Island Singers "Join the Band" with an up-tempo penny whistle and hand clapping song that carries the message just fine.
My memories of Christmas past evoked by this day's American Routes is as intense my memory of incense wafting over the pews at Midnight Mass at Mount Carmel Church when I was a kid.
Listening brings home to me that the grip these secular songs have on me is as strong as any traditional or religious songs recalled from my youth. And reinforces how deeply embedded the contributions of Black musicians and singers are in our Christmas songbook and culture.
December 22, 2020
Frank Morgan: Listen To The Dawn
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
Frank Morgan: Listen To The Dawn, 1993
Frank Morgan, alto saxophone; Kenny Burrell, guitar; Grady Tate, drums and a young Ron Carter on bass, for 5 of the 8 tracks.
First track,"Share The Dawn," a Kenny Burrell composition - rarely have sax and guitar shared the same bed with such easy intimacy. Their take on Rogers and Hammerstein's chestnut "It Might As Well Be Spring" is as fresh as a daisy. The trio of Morgan, Burrell (three originals), drummer Grady Tate and, for 5 of the 8 tracks, a young Ron Carter (one original composition) on bass are on a groove of intuitive repartee.
Soft swing with Morgan's signature bop inflected solos flights are underpinned seamlessly by Burrell, Tate, and Carter. A dawn to dusk mix of spritely, one touch of sly Latin (Ellington's "I Didn't Know About You," and tender melancholy are stirred and not shaken. Morgan and Burrell finish where they started on the last track, "Goodbye."
Frank Morgan (1933-2007) learned from and played with the best. He also fell into a drug habit, as did many of the best including his mentor Charlie Parker, but clawed his way back for the last set of his career. He persevered...not many musicians have a stint in San Quentin on their resumes.
OF INTEREST
https://www.michaelconnelly.com/extras/sound/
Sound of Redemption: The Frank Morgan Story is an absorbing documentary about a gifted alto sax player and Charlie Parker’s protégée, Frank Morgan
AND
>Harry Bosch – had a particular affinity for the saxophone. Its mournful sound, like a human crying out in the night, was what he was drawn to. The detective saw the worst of humanity every day on the job. He found solace every night in the sound of the saxophone."
Harry Bosch, a fictional character in a series of Connelly's books, is a veteran police homicide detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. Connelly weaves together his complex, layered character over several books.
Michael Connelly asked Morgan to compose beginning and ending solos and between chapter clips for one of my favorite Connelly audio books, The Overlook.
Connelly drops names of musicians and songs in every book he's written...impressive.
I had to go to google when he dropped the name of. trumpeter Tomasz Stanko , one of Harry Bosch's favorites.
December 21, 2020
The Benny Green Trio: That's Right
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
A very together trio - Benny Green, piano; Christian McBride, bass; Carl Allen, drums, 1992
Dexterous piano riffing, inventive, swing to bop, creatively arrangements, cool ensemble work throughout. No wonder this seems familiar even though it's first time I've played it in years. Ideas from playing for 4 years with Betty Carter and 2 1/2 with Art Blakey and listening to the likes of Bud Powell, Tad Dameron, Erroll Garner, Horace Silver, John Coltrane and Miles Davis ( "Something I dreamed Last Night") have percolated and informed his style and approach to each cut on the album.
Elements of shuffle, stride and swing - they're all in there. He plays "Cupcake", a Green original (there are 4 originals here), in a really cool swing beat.
In the liner notes, Leonard Feather comments on Green's 'double handed chording' that learned from listening to George Shearing and played on "Me And My Baby" and that "Hoagie Meat" is played in 24 bar blues in 3/4 time - that tells me how little I know about the structural elements that are embedded in the music I love and how much all forms of music have antecedents.
This album is gonna get lots of play. I'll feel quite proud of myself if I can pick out those 24 bar blues in 3/4 time and realize where else I've heard it used. The list of songs in 3/4 time above surprised me.
Nearly an hour's worth of music to enjoy and learn from.
December 15, 2020
Harvard Square: A Sunday Uplift From The Grips Of A Pandemic
Sunday, December 13, 2020
Manna from heaven comes in many forms during these months of pandemic. A Sunday afternoon jaunt to Harvard Square ranks right up there with the miracle of the fishes and the loaves of bread. Since March, only places I have frequented are the market, Home Depot, CVS and my favorite restaurants to pick up takeout food at their doors. For those of you keeping count, that’s 9 months.
Lately, I have been beset by maddening intractable technical issues on my desktop. A trip to one the most iconic places in metro Boston is just the ticket. If my computer can’t reset, I can.
Harvard Square on a Sunday afternoon is a destination known around the world. Battle scars from the pandemic are obvious. Some of the stores that have anchored the square for generations have been shuttered. Some have moved to another part of the square when their rents were jacked up, others have reestablished themselves in other neighborhoods. Some sadly will never reopen. Despite the economic toll the square is still a drawing card of the first order.
There is enough meat left on the bones of the place to give old timers like me a sense of continuity on this circumscribed patch of Cambridge that has drawn locals and visitors to it for generations.
The emergence of free and fabulous street entertainment in the past 15 years - jugglers, magicians, pantomimists, acrobats, goofy and dog and pony shows without the ponies and hallelujah – music - is a huge draw.
You’re not tripping over them as you walk from store to store, the city regulates where they can entertain. The most coveted place for entertainers is the section smack in the middle of Brattle Square, at the intersection of Massachusetts Avenue, Brattle Street, and John F. Kennedy Streets
On warm summer nights, spectators by the hundreds make a beeline there to be thrilled by some of the most original street acts in any town you’ll ever visit.
Heading down Brattle Street from what used to be Nini’s Corner (forced to move after decades), we hear the strains of a righteously ramped up cover band. Whatever else was on the to do list is immediately scratched. Live music, talented musicians, outdoors in the fresh air, real dance music, totally fabulous, oh yes, we are heading there right now.
Most people are tapping their feet or swaying to the music or wiggling their butts. A few are free styling the music by themselves. All wear masks.
I have absolutely got to dance right now. I have not partner danced since March. This feels like the oasis I have been dreaming about for months.
“Baby, we’re going to dance,” says I.
My shopping companion, the one who came up with this idea, is quite the rug cutter at her Arthur Murray Dance Studio and knows the steps to just about any dance known to man. She and her teacher compete in routines they’ve practiced with total sang-froid in front of tables of judges and loads of spectators.
She is hesitant to dance outside her familiar territory of polished oak floors and nattily attired cohorts.
I flunk at memorizing a routine. I intuitively follow the beat and channel it into dance…with style, joy, and absolute confidence that I can make it work no matter my partner’s level of expertise.
We step out of the crowd.
After so long a time without live music and a place to dance, I feel like a lemming inexorably heading toward the cliff. A sense of the preordained in play, I’m positively certain that when I reach it, I’m going to defy gravity, soar, and take her with me.
Partner dancing fills a place in my heart and psyche that has not been fed since March. For the next 15 glorious minutes, my partner relaxes, erases her habit of dancing to a creative routine she has mastered and goes with my flow.
I am in an altered state and have no fear of being arrested for it. My troubles and cares have dissipated in 4/4 time. A vital part of my life has been a resurrected like Lazarus. No drugs, no alcohol. Just following the stylings of fabulous singer Lois Lane and The Daily Planets. Christmas has come early.
I lead. She follows. It is as simple as that.
Heading down Brattle toward the action in Brattle Square.Everyone wears a mask..it's the law.
Teen band in front of new Harvard Coop; on the way down Brattle Street
Harvard Yard across the street; original Harvard Coop on corner of Brattle and Massachusetts Avenue. Everyone wears a mask.
Lois Lane and band cover the classics...first rate mood elevator...Lois Lane and The Daily Planets
SIDEBAR
"Lois Lane and the Daily Planets are a mainstay in the Boston area music scene. Specializing in R&B, funk, soul, jazz, rock and pop, Lois Lane and the Daily Planets are sure to satisfy even the most demanding audiences! Once the crowd is on its feet they do not sit down.
Lois Lane herself, is a phenomenal singer and a natural entertainer and is known for getting and keeping the crowd on their feet dancing and laughing. Gifted with outstanding people skills, Lois reaches out and touches the heart of everyone from nine to ninety! You are guaranteed to have a great time listening, dancing and celebrating to this great entertainer and band.
Backed by a powerful rhythm section in guitarist Peter Fedele, bassist Lee Lundy and drummer Cliff Goodman, the show is always energy-packed experience to remember!:
Up and comers...snag a place between the two Harvard Coops and their own echo chamber
Photos and videos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
December 12, 2020
Keith Jarrett: The Köln Concert
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
His left hand pounding with vigor and occasional rhapsody, right hand trilling like a lark with occasional riffs reminiscent of a choir at a distant white clapboard church, is an acoustic balm to ease soul and body in troubled times.
A reader told me about Keith Jarrett's current health, his penchant for perfectionism, and stand-offish relationship with a live audience. .https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/21/arts/music/keith-jarrett-piano.html
The 1975 recording is of sweepingly surpassingly in the moment lighting caught in the bottle.As of now, the bottle may be capped forever.
December 09, 2020
Horace Silver: Songs For My Father
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
1963,1964
The first cut on this album, "Songs For My Father," John Tavares Silver, who happens to be the nattily dressed man on the album cover, is still today the most recognizable Horace Silver composition. All but one of the ten cuts were composed by Horace at the piano.
Blue Note has a great catalog of jazz from the mid-fifties to the late sixties, one of the richest periods in jazz history. Horace gives his side men plenty of space to play around him, from rich solos to subtle underpinnings to his 88 key center of gravity.
December 07, 2020
Sarah Vaughn: The George Gershwin Songbook Volume 1
The morning coffee series:.listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
December 7, 2020
Sarah Vaughn’s voice and phrasing take a backseat to the strings and intrusive orchestration in much of this album but… the last three songs with snappy big band arrangements mercifully without strings give us full throttle Sarah without the clutter. Gershwin and strings were never a natural combination.
reply by fellow jazz enthusiast who sends me this
"Ain't Misbehavin" by Foe Pass on Oscar Peterson show
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_kUJa1PueM
November 29, 2020
November 08, 2020
Birth Of The Cool; Miles Davis
Morning coffee series...
November 8, 2020
Recorded in 1949, 1950. Big band sound produced by a small classic core of musicians that give it an air of intimacy as if produced in a dimly lit room with a cloud bank of cigarette smoke obscuring the cramped stage. Listen closely enough and imagine the sound of ice cubes swirling around in tumblers of scotch.
November 02, 2020
Mini Pre-Midnight Ramble: Halloween Treat - Blue Moon and Mars
October 31, 2020
I bought a couple of bags of candy but not one trick or treat kid came to the door tonight. Not surprising considering the pandemic now have enough chocolate to snack on for a month.
When it was clear that the streets would be empty for the night, I took a brief walk in search of he full moon I had read would be rising up there somewhere.
A minute later, red tinged Mars showed up to join the 'Blue Moon', a pretty neat trick on Halloween.
“Once in a blue moon” explained…
The Oct. 31 full moon also happens to be a "blue moon," a designation for the second full moon to occur in a single calendar month. Blue moons are relatively rare as well, occurring on average just once every 2.5 years or so. Blue moons are relatively rare as well, occurring on average just once every 2.5 years or so. It won't happen again until 2039.
By then I will have consumed all that candy.
Whoa, from my history of Midnight Rambles, I recognize that reddish planet.
Surprise...Mars in the clear sky!
Photographs by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
October 27, 2020
Gerry Mulligan Meets Ben Webster
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
October 27, 2020
Recorded November 3/December 2, 1959
Ben Webster was reputed to have been a very difficult, angry man.
His music was a 180...says David, my knowledgeable friend of 50 years.
October 24, 2020
I Voted!
Cross every T and dot every Y...my vote's gonna count
Aiming for a new tomorrow...
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
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American Routes Goes To The Circus
22/04/24 American Routes: MUSIC CIRCUS
Arlo Guthrie once sang, ‘You can get anything you want,,.at Alice’s Restaurant…”
Well, the same can be said of FM radio.
FM radio offers news, daily commentaries, thoughtful programs like TED Radio Hour, The Moth Radio Hour, This American Life, and The New Yorker Radio Hour.
For a music lover, there’s American Routes. http://americanroutes.wwno.org/archives/show/1270/Music-Circus
American Routes is blues and jazz, gospel and soul, rockabilly and country, Cajun and swamp pop, Tejano, Latin… and beyond. Songs and stories from musicians describe a deep and diverse nation with sounds and styles shared by all Americans. From the bayous to the beltways, from crossroads to crosstown, on interstates and city streets, turn up your radio for the sonic journey!
The weekly radio program is produced in New Orleans by Nick Spitzer, who created it in 1998.
Over the years, Spitzer’s had conversations with Willie Nelson, Tom Waits, B.B. King, Dr. John, Dave Brubeck, Elvis Costello, Ray Charles, Randy Newman, McCoy Tyner, Lucinda Williams, Rufus Thomas, Jerry Lee Lewis and scores of musicians and singers you may never have heard of and will google because they’re characters whose life stories are as compelling as the music they make.
When the April 24 program is titled “Music-Circus”, I’m thinking what the heck does circus have to do with music. Circuses are visual experiences, music essentially an aural ones.
What follows is an astonishing array of songs loosely related to the Big Top plus interviews with the aerial artist who defies gravity in the most inventively curated show I’ve ever heard…I mean who else could fill two hours with songs related to the circus, one of the most red white and blue pieces of Americana, in such a lovingly cohesive 120 minutes.
The theme is universal. While most of American Routes shows dig into music he connects broadly to Louisiana, this show is a bouquet to America, Americana music, American entertainers and the most recognizable piece of American culture, The Big Top, that has thrilled and chilled children of all ages for 146 years.
How creative? Check out the set list… makes you dizzy with wonder to how Americana ring master Spitzer pulls you in with everything from Ella, The Coasters, Everly Brothers, Al Jolson, Randy Newman, Los Lobos, several acts you’ve never heard of plus a segment of organ grinder music. Geez, everything but the popcorn.
Pairing interviews with New Orleans singer and former circus glass eater Meschiya Lake with high-wire trapeze artist Dolly Jacobs in two separate interviews, Spitzer makes sure you know that the circus isn’t ready to be covered in cobwebs like a piece of furniture in an abandoned Victorian mansion. It’s still a thing. Shot out of a cannon.
Buy a bag of peanuts. Tune in.
April 29, 2022 in Commentaries | Permalink | Comments (0)