Last night I went to hear Lou Reed’s guitars and amplifiers drone away in the Cathedral of St. John The Divine in New York City.  Stewart Hurwood (Lou’s former guitar technician) curated the evening and manipulated the guitars and amplifiers. The cathedral is a dark and foreboding structure on a bit of a hill “Across 110th Street” (if you’re not familiar, that’s a great Bobby Womack song). 1047 Amsterdam Ave. @ 112th Street to be precise. I took some pictures as I made my way up Morningside drive and I could hear the drones from the back of the structure. As I entered I heard a rumble of low drones accompanied by the cacophonous stabs and lurches of the church organ, which annoyed me. Obviously I had some preconceived notion as to how I wanted this thing to go. I meandered around to catch a glimpse of the guitars and amplifiers. I ended up standing behind the semi-circle of amps where Stewart Hurwood was bouncing around from amp to amp and guitar to guitar maintaining the drone and occasionally manipulating the feedback. I thought about having patience with that unexpected organ. I thought of the crowd of people. I thought about my breath. I felt like I was humming (I wasn’t). The organ had stopped and the droning continued. I felt like I was slightly swaying. I looked up and there were 2 men all in black doing a series of thai chi moves. A light applause followed which seemed weird…an unsure of itself applause over the drones. A saxophone began wailing in the distance. Stan Harrison walked around the space outside of the main circle of amps so his horn sounded in sharp relief to those of us dedicated to being near the amps intermittently and then faded back into the main hall. His playing was selective and neither overly wrought nor was it committed to a particular melody. This night was all about sound. I thought of acceptance. Accepting the organ. Accepting being in a crowd. Accepting being in my thoughts. In order to understand the idea of acceptance I had to listen. Like love. In order to love fully you must allow yourself to be loved. Like music. In order to accept music you must silence yourself and listen. I headed towards the exit and came upon Laurie Anderson playing an electric violin and a small midi keyboard and laptop. At one point she played a light recording of music that you might hear in a Chinese restaurant and I wondered if maybe it was from a place Lou and Laurie used to go. As I listened to her intuitive playing I heard Lou Reed’s guitars and amps droning in the distance and it felt like a couple calling out to each other from different rooms in the same voluminous house. I felt like I was under water. This is what it sounds like under water.

Participating Musicians

Laurie Anderson, John Zorn, Stan Harrison, Sarth Calhoun, Shahzad Ismaily. Curated by Stewart Hurwood. The program was presented in conjunction with, The Value of Sanctuary: Building A House Without Walls (an exhibit on view through June 30th)

Nicole Hale, singer, pianist, guitar and accordion player extraordinaire put together and released ‘House With The Little Rose Garden’ in 2015 on glorious gold vinyl!! (available on iTunes and bandcamp, also in digital format). The album was tastefully mixed and produced by Bob Hoag at Flying Blanket Recording in Mesa, AZ. I’ve known Nicole for years. She used to host an open mic at the now defunct R Bar, 218 Bowery in NYC. Nicole has always been prolific, she once handed me a CD of rough recordings of hers which amounts to about 2 albums worth of material. I’ve always been stricken by Nicole’s voice. It’s warm and familiar i.e. immediately welcoming and yet drenched in a history. As I’ve come to learn more about her (personally) it has added a depth to my appreciation for her songs. These are mostly piano based songs, the title track and ‘Find My Way Back to You’ being the exceptions. The instrumentation (piano, keyboard, guitar, Wurlitzer on ‘Hardest of Hearts’, accordion on ‘Never Before’, bass, trumpet and sax on ‘Let Me Be’, plenty of pedal steel) and arrangements of said instrumentation are so well balanced and necessarily so as to support on one hand the deep dark songs and on the other the ethereal, amorphous songs. This is a bluesy, felt set of songs. Sad or downtempo songs have an oft unheralded power to uplift when properly crafted (as these are). Nicole manages to inhabit and report from a dark world without seeming maudlin or overly self-involved. ‘Blue Sunday Love’ knocks it out of the park in this regard. The closing track ‘Oh Water, Oh Thunder, Oh Fire’ is like an atmospheric hymn. I highly recommend ‘House With The Little Rose Garden’ for poetry and soul…2 things we all need more of in the coming years.

https://nicolehale.bandcamp.com/album/house-with-the-little-rose-garden

http://www.nicolehalemusic.com/

In preparation for going to see a matinee performance of Guillaume Tell at The Metropolitan Opera I went for a run in the morning (it’s a 5 hour opera). I completed my shopping at the green market, picked up a paper and a coffee earlier than usual. I mentally prepared myself to listen beyond the less than complimentary review published by the New York Times a couple of weeks prior. The main complaint about the show has become a common one with Peter Gelb at the helm, staging. Specifically setting the action in the abstract. I also set out early to make the 12 o’clock curtain because I live uptown (Inwood aka upstate Manhattan) and the A-train has been recently replaced by a bus between 207th and 168th Street on weekends. I made it to Lincoln Center in comfortable time. My seat was one of the best in the house (it was a gift). This co-production between The Met and the Dutch National Opera of Rossini’s last opera, Guillaume Tell, was the first time it has been sung in French at the Met and the first time they’ve done the opera in decades. The conductor, Fabio Luisi, was really great. It was alarming to me that he could make that famous, maybe even overplayed overture really expressive and fresh. The main characters had great voices most notably Marina Rebeka as Mathilde. The look of the production seemed to be loosely aping rebel forces (the oppressed) versus imperial forces (the oppressors) a la the movie, Star Wars. There were three large white neon pillars for the forces of good and one giant red neon pillar for evil. The costumes were loose linen oatmeal colored wraps for the rebels and steampunk, black leather suits and top-hats for the men, overlarge bustles for the women for the imperials (the soldiers had steel grey chain-mail vests and skull caps). Gesler, the bass, John Relyea, had a smooth steel grey skullcap which covered half of his face…not dissimilar from the Phantom of The Opera. These are examples of what I had to focus past in order to absorb the music and story. Gerald Finley was excellent as the title character and Janai Brugger as Jemmy (his son) had an incredible voice. The whole cast really all just had top notch, gorgeous voices (the women were stronger than the men in my opinion). My seat neighbor was a charming, elderly lady whom bid me adieu with, “that’s enough for me” at the end of the fourth act. Previously she said that initially she was thrown by the modernity of the production but got into it. Little did she know that her exit couldn’t have been better timed. I got back to my seat after a plastic glass of ridiculously priced Merlot prepared to witness the fate of our hero and his son. We waited. The doors were closed. Security guys were just standing by the doors. Nothing happening. The start of the final act was taking too long, what’s up? No musicians entered the orchestra pit to tune up/warm up. Finally a house manager came out and said that they were experiencing a snag backstage but that everyone was okay and it would be a little while longer. The audience grew restless after a while longer passed. A rhythmic clap began among some as though to elicit an encore….the house manager (I assumed) came back, apologized and said that the production was over!! A man began yelling “I want my money back, I want my money back” to which other audiences members retorted “Shut up!”. The house manager resumed with a suggestion to contact customer service and to please come back to see Guillaume Tell. NO FURTHER explanation. I had my focus set on this production, I prepared for it, I overlooked the aspects I disliked, I very much enjoyed the music…cut off. Unfinished. I was furious. Did a diva throw a fit? Did a wealthy Trump patron somehow sabotage the show? What happened to, “THE SHOW MUST GO ON”???

“Today’s performance of Guillaume Tell was canceled during the second intermission because of a disturbance by an audience member, who sprinkled an unidentified powdered substance into the orchestra pit. The NYPD is investigating the incident,” the statement read.

“We have spoken to more than one witness, who said they spoke to an individual from out of town who indicated he was here to sprinkle ashes of a friend, his mentor in opera, during the performance. That is certainly an area which we’re pursuing,” John Miller, New York police deputy commissioner of intelligence and counterterrorism told CNN.

Miller said police know the man’s identity but won’t release his name.

Officials at the Met appeared relieved at the prospect that the substance could have been ashes.

“This was taken very seriously by the Met,” Peter Gelb, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera, told CNN.

“Ashes of an opera-loving mentor being sprinkled into the pit, although inconveniencing all of us, is a far cry better than anything else,” Gelb said.

NOT QUITE SURE what Gelb means. One jerk disrupts the opera, the performers, the audience members and that’s better than WHAT??

I ran a crazy 5K race about a month ago called the Tunnel 2 Towers run. It was in honor of an NYC firefighter, Stephen Siller, who ran through the Battery Tunnel from Red Hook, Brooklyn to the World Trade Center in full gear on September 11th, 2001. It was wild! I haven’t run a race in decades and never a race through a tunnel. I ran a 23:49.4 m. in the top 50! 31st of my gender. Anyway, after the race I got myself together and later in the day took a bus to Philadelphia with a friend to meet up with a friend of his, who lives there, to hear Pylon play at Johnny Brenda’s. I hadn’t visited Philly in years….the last time I was there I think I auditioned for the t.v. show, “Hack”, and went to AKA Music on North 2nd and visited the Wilma Theatre on Broad Street (I was in a couple of productions there in the 90’s when they were on Sansom Street). We walked from the bus drop-off on Market Street and it was a wild trip down memory lane. I fell in love there, I went to art school there, I worked in various restaurants there, and I worked as an actor there. Philadelphia has changed since I left but not in any way that New York hasn’t. There are hipsters there and there are luxury buildings and fancy special eateries and everyone wonders how anyone could afford anything (or maybe that’s just me). Johnny Brenda’s is an amazing bar/restaurant/music venue. The music venue part of the joint is a perfect-sized rock club for true fans. A raised stage, a balcony overlooking the stage (like a tiny, compact Bowery Ballroom). Johnny Brenda’s is for the embattled remaining faithful who listen to full albums, go to live shows and actually care about music they haven’t been force-fed. I wasn’t very familiar with Pylon and listened to them a couple of days prior to the show to get a sense of what I was in for. They made simple, angular 80’s rock i.e. cool stuff worth checking out (I recommend their album, ‘Chomp More’. Dressy Bessy hit the stage first (we missed the opener, Telepathic) and I was blown away! The band is from Denver, Colorado. Tammy Ealom, the lead singer/guitarist, is full of raw energy and attitude befitting her brand of pop-punk. It may sound sterile or something but she really knew how to connect with the audience. The band is associated with the Elephant Six Collective (a group of American musicians who comprised the bands; Neutral Milk Hotel, The Apples in Stereo, Olivia Tremor Control, Elf Power, oF Montreal, The Minders, and Circulatory System) mostly 60’s inspired pop. Also playing for Dressy Bessy are Darren Albert (drummer), Rob Greene (bass), John Hill (lead guitar (also plays with The Apples in Stereo)). I later found out that Tammy Ealom was in The Minders at one time, a band I really dig. They had a great set! Most of the songs are from their latest album, ‘Kingsized’ (Yeproc). Upon listening to earlier albums after the show I realized that with this current one they have really come into their own undoubtedly!! I highly recommend this album for it’s upbeat energy, lyrical bite, and hooky melodic lines!! Pylon had a good set too….but Dressy Bessy won the night (for me)!

Sorry it’s been a while dear listeners/readers! More musical observations, reviews and revelations soon! Until then, maintain. -p

Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

This is a post I’ve been putting off…initially I was going to write about David Bowie’s death and how amazing an experience it was to hear his album, Blackstar, which dealt with mortality, two days prior to his death and how the album actually saw me through my grieving process. It was a very strange experience…I think I was still adapting to a Bowie-less world when I had heard Prince was sick on an airplane. Hm that’s weird news I thought….though not entirely beyond the pale because he was doing a solo piano tour. Then I was out having lunch with a friend in a cafeteria style food court on 34th street on April 21st when I heard one Prince song on the radio and then another and on the third song I asked my cohort to look for news on the internet when the DJ came on and announced that Prince had died. I was immediately stricken. My main influences when I was a teenager were David Bowie, Lou Reed (Velvet Underground), Prince, and Tom Waits. The Beatles, Yes, The Who, Iggy Pop, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Joni Mitchell, The Cure, Elvis Costello, The Clash all had their moments of varying degrees of fascination for me too but Bowie, Lou, Prince and Tom spoke to my core. It probably has something to do with the malleability of these performers. They could inhabit any character they wanted. They could raise the outcast to be greater than their oppressive circumstance. There’s a certain grace to restoring dignity to those who may have lost it or bestowing dignity upon those who never had any to begin with. I think Prince’s death struck me more immediately than David Bowie’s because of the primal connection I felt from Prince as a dancer. When music makes you move despite yourself, The funk. His sheer audacity as a performer was something to behold, smirking, sneering, and dancing like James Brown. Making sleazy acceptable is no small feat in the puritanical Western world. All of the showmanship was supported by the scope of his musical genius. He played guitar, piano, drums, you name it and didn’t just play but totally rocked whatever he was playing. The first time I had ever seen, “Written, Performed and Produced by”, on an album was Prince. I had only seen him perform once during his Lovesexy Tour. I’ll never forget it. There was a convertible Thunderbird on a track surrounding the stage which he played and sang in (undoubtedly during,’Alphabet Street’) and a little basketball court so he could shoot hoops while singing! He was a thrilling performer. While Prince’s songs were arguably less poetic than Tom, Lou and David they were certainly no less emotional. I’ll never forget when I bought ‘Parade’ at Rainbow Records on cassette and fell asleep listening to the last track, ‘Sometimes It Snows In April’, a sad ballad, and when I woke up in the morning there was snow blanketing the field….and it was April.

Good day dear readers! I hope all’s well in your lives. These are indeed dark days in the world of late….but really there’s always been strife. It’s how we endure and persist that matters…oh and what we’re listening to or what we can make, to accompany the ebb and flow of the tides of fortune. 2 weeks ago, April 8, 2016, I went to hear John Prine at The Kings Theatre in Brooklyn. I had previously seen Wilco there (see the Wilco post). Everyone I encountered, who works there, was welcoming, polite, and helpful. I had listened to Prine’s first 2 or 3 albums when visiting my sister, brother in-law, and nephews (my brother in-law had them loaded in the car). I had heard some of his songs before but from those concentrated listens I was hooked. I know it’s often said of artists you admire but I thought John Prine would be taller, it’s a testament to the towering songs he’s written. His face just beams, as though he has a permanent smile, it’s just built that way. The show began with a set by Iris DeMent (my first time seeing her live too). John kicked off his set with a cover of Merle Haggard’s, ‘Ramblin’ Fever’. Merle had died just a few days prior and it was a fitting tribute to his artistry and writing. I don’t know why John Prine hasn’t made bigger waves in the country music world….his views may lean too far to the left? I don’t know. He writes lyrics so effortlessly it’s as though they were always meant to be. His songs and his usually wry delivery of them, while often grappling with the harshest of realities, are never mean, often insightful, and sometimes just plain fun. The arrangement was; John on acoustic guitar and vocals, he really supported and enjoyed his young lead guitar player, Jason Wilber (who was a very tasteful player), Dave “Double Duty Daddy” Jaques on mandolin, guitar (who was clearly having a blast), and Pat McLuaghlin on upright and electric bass. Everybody’s time has to be pretty good to pull off arranged songs without drums and these men did so with great grace and style. If you ever get the chance….beg, borrow, or steal to go hear John Prine live. He will put a smile or a tear on your face from the depths of what it is to be human. He’s truly one of the best living songwriters. Not to be missed. I leave you with the setlist and Sam Stone. Be good to yourselves people!! Til next time! -p

Ramblin’ Fever
(Merle Haggard cover)
Glory of True Love
Long Monday
Taking a Walk
Please Don’t Bury Me
Six O’Clock News
Souvenirs
Grandpa Was a Carpenter
Hello in There
Fish and Whistle
Angel From Montgomery
Illegal Smile
You Got Gold
That’s the Way the World Goes ‘Round
Mexican Home
Sam Stone
Milwaukee Here I Come (with Iris DeMent)
We Could (with Iris DeMent)
In Spite of Ourselves (with Iris DeMent)
She Is My Everything
Bear Creek Blues
(The Carter Family cover)
Lake Marie
Paradise