pt at large

Brother Sun: Three Stars, One Stage

Brother Sun

Circle of Friends Concert Series
First Universalist Society Meetinghouse
262 Chestnut St, Franklin, MA


January 19, 2013

Think of the most gorgeous sunset you’ve ever seen and translate it into three-part harmony. Brother Sun is earth, wind and fire on a folk stage. With a collection of guitars and an electric piano in view, it comes as a surprise when the three men approach the mics and launch the set with a breathtaking flight of a cappella singing with the gospel tinged  “What Must Be Done.” Close your eyes. The sweet, richly textured harmonies sound for all the world like the Grammy award-winning African American female a cappella ensemble Sweet Honey In The Rock – with balls. 

Each of these men can hold a stage as a solo artist. Together, they’re transformed into a magnificent force of folk alchemy that has been dazzling audiences for two years.

Joe Jencks makes eye contact with Pat Wictor, and Greg Greenway who penned “What Must Be Done,” and grins. Something special is going on. The full house audience, mostly graying veterans of the folk movement who wore flowers in their hair during the sixties and seventies, softly sings the choruses. “This is some of the best singing we’ve ever done,” Greenway says to his two comrades as the applause fades. No kidding. The rest of the night is filled with more of it.

True confession: I’ve disdained folk music for a while and had to be coaxed to come to this show. Brother Sun is beckoning me back to the fold. 

They certainly look like folk singers. Pat Wictor, with his long reddish locks, goatee and mustache to match, is from New York. Joe Jencks, with luxurious tight ringlets of russet curls cascading down his mountain man broad shoulders, hails from Chicago. Bostonian Greg Greenway, dressed in black, could double for a college professor out with friends on Saturday night. Greenway is in rare form. His erudite, goofy patter cracks up Wictor, Jencks, and the rest of us.

Photo:Neale Eckstein

What makes these guys so good together is that they’re so different. If there was ever a comedy country folk circuit, Greenway could make a fortune. Joe Jencks’ deep, commanding voice is the gravity of Brother Sun. Wictor’s deft picking, guitar fills, and harmonies offer balance and counterpoint. Holding his guitar in his lap like a slide, he’s the sly music engine of Brother Sun.

“In the wee hours after a day of driving this song just fell out of the sky,” Greenway says as he leans into a delicately evocative “Highway 4 AM”. Joe’s baritone, swelling from his great barrel chest, is perfect for the working fisherman’s song “Saint Christopher” that follows it.

 Pat Wictor’s slide guitar style and throaty delivery are an effective change of pace for his bluesy composition, “Pushing Stones.” Wictor also takes the lead on a cover of Mose Allison’s “Everybody’s Cryin’ Mercy,” and he makes it count. 

Jencks says, “My father died on June 21, 1991, I am now older than my father when he died. I was driving around Rockport late one night and this song ‘Sad’ fell right into my head,” Once again, the audience softly sings the choruses to the gentle ballad. From the first song until this one, an invisible but palpable aura infuses this darkened room. It takes musicians confident in their own styles and material to share a stage together - and for these three gifted singer/songwriters to realize that their lush harmonizing on each other's songs packs a stronger wallop than if they'd been sung solo.

Greenway sings “Jericho Road,” in honor of Martin Luther King. It’s an emotional rendering, but all tonight's songs have an emotional charge. “Martin Luther King, Jr. talked about ‘the crooked road’ of love and he challenged us to keep connected,” Greenway says as he introduces the song.

Then comes a Pete Seeger moment with “The House That Jack Built”. No folk concert can be complete without a labor union song extolling the dignity of labor and brutality of the companies that tried to crush them. Vintage folk.

Brother Sun’s rich repertoire tonight is filled with originals and a couple of covers spanning blues, folk, and American roots music. Just when you’ve settled into their groove, Greenway floors us with the impish send-up “Fox News” sung as a cappella doo-wop, with split register notes that could have come off the streets of Brooklyn. Judging by the audience's response to the decidedly partisan lyrics, there aren’t many Republicans in the house.

Three of a kind is not much of a hand in poker but put these three singer/songwriters together and you’ve got a Full House.

SET ONE
“What Must Be Done”
“Come With Me”

“Well Well Well”

"Highway 4 AM”

“Saint Christopher”
“Pushing Stones”
“Trouble”
“Sad”

“Shine”
 Here's a little youtube to give you a teeny idea of their style

SET TWO
“Jericho Road”
“The House That Jack Built”
“These Hands”
“Everybody’s Cryin’ Mercy”
“Lady of The Harbor”
“Fox News”
“Go Tell Mary”
"Love Is The Water”
“All I Want Is A Garden”

Encore
“In The Name Of Love”

 

Brother Sun: Three Stars, One Stage

Full review of the concert to appear shortly.

Brother Sun

Circle of Friends Concert Series
First Universalist Society Meetinghouse
262 Chestnut St, Franklin, MA


January 19, 2013

The Circle of Friends Coffeehouse was founded in 1990. Presently housed in the First Universalist Society Meetinghouse in Franklin, MA, it books concerts from September through May. “They always book the best,” says Pamela Rivers, former Peach Productions owner who’s seen enough talent to know quality when she hears it.

The concert hall has an intimate feel despite the fact is can hold a sizeable audience. A first timer like me was stunned by the exquisite quality of the sound system, hailed by some as the finest listening room in the country. The coffeehouse is renowned for two things: music and food. If you have a sweet tooth, arrive early. You'll be flabbergasted by the gourmet array of desserts spread across several tables in the foyer. Don't dawdle. By the end of intermission, they will have been consumed.

Brother Sun - Pat Wictor, Joe Jencks and Greg Greenway - performed at the Circle of Friends Coffeehouse on Jannuary 19, 2013.

El Patron Rides High: Tres Punto Bueno

Tres Punto Bueno
A Chilean Rodeo in Concon, a coastal city within sight of the Valparaiso skyline
January 5 and 6, 2013

When Chilean cowboys hear the announcer utter those words, they smile. Not a big show-your-teeth smile. That’s not their style. When Ricardo Ceriani heard “tres punto bueno” (three good points) boom from the loud speaker over the judges’ box, he and his riding partner, young Pio Ledezma Rojo, known as Pollito (Po-yee-toe) since he was a tot, sat higher in the saddle, ramrod straight, and cantered off the competition arena, their colorful mantas flowing in the breeze. The highest score in a round is cuatro punto bueno. I’ve been to several Chilean rodeos (this one in 2011). I never saw one of those awarded.

In the steer roping part of an American rodeo, there’s the rider and steer to be roped and tied. Two moving parts.

Chilean rodeos are complicated, choreographed equestrian events. To win, horsemen need skill, nerves of steel, patience, lightning fast reflexes, a well trained horse under them, and a good shot of luck.

Two riders act in tandem and ride around a semi-circular earthen packed arena called a medialuna with the goal of pinning a calf against cushions at either end of the arena. The timing of pinning the calf against the cushions, the coordination of the skilled horsemen and their highly trained Chilean horses is crucial. One split second of indecision spells a low score or worse, a score of “un punto malo,” (or “dos punto malo” for larger infractions the strict rules of engagement between horsemen and calf), a deficit very difficult to overcome in succeeding rounds.


Ricardo and Pollito: Tres Punto Bueno; points awarded for where the calf is pinned against the padded area.

Ricardo built his own medialuna behind the farmhouse in which he and Susaan live from November to May every year. At 8 AM several mornings a week, you can hear the snorting of horses and their muffled hoofbeats as horsemen and horses trot from the stable to the practice area. Farm caretaker Juanito Perez escorts the calf Ricardo owns into the medialuna.

One hour of intense practice ensues. Horsemen shout, clods of soft brown earth, churned by shod hooves, cartwheel into the air and arc back to earth, as riders wheel horses into the best position to pin the calf at each end of the arena. The ground shakes under my feet as the trio of horses and one uncooperative calf pound past me. From one pass to the next, there’s no predicting what the calf will do. Perfect. Managing unpredictability with speed, discipline, and coordination is where a punto bueno becomes possible.

Ricardo practices at his medialuna in Nogales; Ricardo and Pollito relax a moment before their turn to compete.

An hour later the horses are lathered up, washed down, brushed, and returned to their stable. Ricardo resumes his life as El Patron, overseeing the daily operation of Chilefarms in Nogales.

By Saturday morning, he’ll be ready to load his horses into his truck and head for the rodeo. If he does well Saturday, he competes again Sunday. Being well prepared and winning are two different things. Win or lose, Ricardo will be prepared. In the 12 years he’s been competing, his opponents know to expect a man who comes to win, has the grace to lose with dignity, offers no excuses, and is easily the funniest and most popular “huaso” (cowboy) in the rodeo.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Scenes from a rodeo in Concon 2012

On the road to Concon; cowboys wait their turn to compete.

Dozens of calves will be used in the rodeo but only a few prizes will be awarded

The rodeo in Concon is always well attended.

Ricardo wearing a striped manta he won at a rodeo; pinning a calf against the cushioned area takes skill.


Concon, a coastal city a few miles from Valparaiso; the "Queens" of the rodeo.

Photos (except for photo in the middle of the story) by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Six Degrees of Miss Universe

A message from SCOMU, “Sixth Cousin of Miss Universe,” aka pt at large

I am basking in the refracted light of Miss Universe, Olivia Culpo. Ahem, Cousin Olivia to me. The fact that she's six times removed makes no difference. Hey, the sun is 93 million miles away and we feel its radiant heat, don't we?

If you’re one of those people who count cards while playing bridge or poker, it might help you follow this. I am not a card counter or scrabble whiz. It took a serious tutorial from my fourth cousin Cris to get a grip on the story.

My great grandfather, John Sutty (originally Sciutto, probably respelled Sutty in Ellis Island) married Sarah Sottile. They had three daughters, my great aunts Edith and Zeta, and my grandmother Lena Sutty.

John Sutty had a sister, also named Lena, who married Augustus Formento. They had three daughters - Elizabeth, Alma, and Millie, who married Peter Culpo (this is where the trail heats up).

Millie and Peter Culpo had one son, John Culpo, my fourth cousin. John, an accomplished accordionist, married Madeleine Cantarella, founder and Artistic Director of The Albany/Berkshire Ballet.

John and Madeleine Culpo had six children - John, Peter, Lisa, Christopher, Mark and Paul, who would be my fifth cousins. Peter is the father of our newly crowned Miss Universe - Taaa daaaa, my sixth cousin.

Let’s go deep here. Miss Universe Olivia Culpo is my great grandfather’s sister’s daughter’s son’s son’s daughter.  

A mighty shout out to my source, fourth cousin Cris Cristiano Raymond - my great grandfather's sister's daughter's daughter… Alma’s daughter. Are you still with me?

Cris reports that Olivia Culpo's dad Peter signed a recent email “FOMU”. During Olivia's reign, Cris has allowed that I might consider signing my name SCOMU.

It would be foolhardy to reject such an opportunity.
SCOMU

Upon Reading Funny Stuff In The Middle Of The Night

Don’t plan on reading "Quite Enough of Calvin Trillin: 40 Years of Funny Stuff" if you happen to be sleeping with someone. By the time you’re halfway through one of his short essays, “Corrections” for example, you will have guffawed awake your (fill in one) girlfriend, wife, husband, boyfriend, family dog, children in the next room, who will probably not share your hilarity since it is 3:20 AM, an hour customarily reserved for sound repose.

You will quite possibly be greeted with sullen stares at the hour of normal reveille. Citing Trillin as a master of dry, urbane, witty humor who should be on any intelligent reader’s list won’t get much traction from someone you've deprived of sleep. You will likely discover that your copy of said book has gone missing by nightfall.

It’s hard to believe a guy could have a writing voice so damn funny, slyly literate, and keep it going for forty years. His ‘stuff’ has appeared in The New Yorker, The Nation, The New York Times, and a bunch of books. Ordinarily when you see a list like this, you’re thinking, well those are high falutin’ places, he’s probably pretty stuffy. Wrong.

There are nearly two hundred bite sized essays and short zippy poems in the twenty sections of Trillin's Funny Stuff– a few categories:

“The Media – Liberal Elite and Otherwise,” “Tales Of A Clean Plate Ranger” (figure that one out), “High Society and Just Plain Rich People,” “Twenty Years Of Pols – One Poem Each,” “Family Matters,” “Beasts Of The Field, Fish Of The Sea, And Chiggers In The Tall Grass,” “English And Some Languages I Don’t Speak,” and “Foreigners.”

Ol’ Calvin can elevate everyday stuff into hilarity that makes you laugh out loud. A few titles: “People In Charge,” “Chicken A La King,” The Italian West Indies,” “Thoughts On Power Neck Wear,” “Economics, With Power Steering,” “Voodoo Economics Up Close,” “Social Questions From Aunt Rosie,” “T.S. Eliot And Me,” “Slip Covers Just Bloom In The Spring, Tra La,” “Holistic Heuristics,” “Killer Bagels,” “Molly and the V Chip,” “Losing China,” … the list goes on.

There are other authors I could add to this DNR (Do Not Read In The Middle Of The Night) list. Billy Collins comes to mind in the poetry department. I’m sure you have a list of your own books that, if read during the hours in which you’re supposed to be collecting REMs, can cause relational distress.

Remedies might include slipping down to the den or garage (where it’s likely your copy has been hidden) when you have the urge to read such books as a dark of night diversion. I could suggest that you never crack open Trillin’s book but caveat emptor. Once you do, it will be too late.

PS If you have doubt about Trillin's sense of humor, watch the clip of Calvin Trillin on The Daily Show. (If I were clever enough, I'd write a poem about it).