8:59am....time's tickin' and I'm getting ready to kick into action. Grocery store first, cooking second, Bounce House arrives at 11am, child off bus at 12:15, a few minutes of bouncing on the front lawn (I'll have photos tomorrow for sure), party at 1pm. YAHOO!!! Oh, and around noon I'll crack a beer (hey, it's my party....I'm not driving anywhere!!!!)
Most importantly, guests receive the "Judy and Brady's Rock IN the Summer Mix" CD my son and I made last night. If you'd like a copy, shoot me an email and mailing address. Here it is:
1. "The Pretender"--Foo Fighters
2. "World Wide Suicide"--Pearl Jam
3. "Froggie Went A-Courtin'"--Bob Dylan
4. "Apologize"--OneRepublic
5. "Song for the Boys"--Pat Metheny
6. "Black Satin"--Miles Davis
7. "Baby, I Love You"--Aretha Franklin
8. "Royal Orleans"--Led Zeppelin
9. "Interstate Love Song"--Stone Temple Pilots
10. "Move Along"--The All-American Rejects
11. "How Far We've Come"--Matchbox Twenty
12. "Dance to the Music"--Sly and the Family Stone
13. "Safe and Sound"--Sheryl Crow
14. 'Little Star"--Madonna
15. "Times Like These"--Foo Fighters
GAME ON!!!! Enjoy...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Half Days
I've lived in other parts of our crazy nation, and here near The Buff, children have school until today or tomorrow. In Denver, the school year ended around Memorial Day, if I recall, and in Madison, it is earlier in June, for sure. In my town, the last day of school for K-12 kids is tomorrow. These last three days (M-W) have been half days. The bus comes at 8:15am; it returns at 12:15pm instead of 3:15pm.
I have known this information for awhile. But, the arrival of my sweet son three hours earlier than "normal" has thrown my writing schedule into a tizzy (NOTE: I'm sensing a pattern....my writing suffers easily. It is the least adaptable thing in my life right now, me thinks.....). Of course, I am throwing a "School is Out for Summer!" pool party tomorrow for at least 20 friends and their kids (minus Alice Cooper, unless he's around.....). It begins at 1pm. Of course, I have to clean my house, which is not clean right now. Of course, I have to go shopping. Of course, I have to straighten up the yard and the pool. Of course, I have to move select items in my lil' abode to higher ground (toddlers are feisty and ambitious creatures). Of course I have to clean my office and "put away" my Diss materials for a day or so.
I hope my beloved notes and copies and articles come back out soon, but I'm facing a challenge here. For the past month, as much as it may not have sounded in some back-posts, I have gotten some good work done. Now, I'm looking at seven days with no daycare, and the desire to play and have adventures and kick-it with my curious and energetic 8-year old son is amping up big time. Then I have five weeks where he is with his father and I have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to write and distract myself from missing him. *Gulp*
I have thought from time to time that writing this Diss and succeeding (even just a little bit) with keeping myself afloat this year would do me in. It may. Scheduling an academic life in a hustle bustle world may be the trickiest damn part of all of this. Growing tomatoes? No problem. Organizing a party complete with swimming pool and Bounce House? That's nothin.' Sitting down to write every day? Ummm, help?
But, my son grows bigger every day. I don't want to miss any of it. Adios, Diss until 7/8. The next few posts will more than likely reflect what the "rest of the time" means for this suburban single-mom party girl musicologist. Stay tuned, and grab your swim suit if you're in the neighborhood.
I have known this information for awhile. But, the arrival of my sweet son three hours earlier than "normal" has thrown my writing schedule into a tizzy (NOTE: I'm sensing a pattern....my writing suffers easily. It is the least adaptable thing in my life right now, me thinks.....). Of course, I am throwing a "School is Out for Summer!" pool party tomorrow for at least 20 friends and their kids (minus Alice Cooper, unless he's around.....). It begins at 1pm. Of course, I have to clean my house, which is not clean right now. Of course, I have to go shopping. Of course, I have to straighten up the yard and the pool. Of course, I have to move select items in my lil' abode to higher ground (toddlers are feisty and ambitious creatures). Of course I have to clean my office and "put away" my Diss materials for a day or so.
I hope my beloved notes and copies and articles come back out soon, but I'm facing a challenge here. For the past month, as much as it may not have sounded in some back-posts, I have gotten some good work done. Now, I'm looking at seven days with no daycare, and the desire to play and have adventures and kick-it with my curious and energetic 8-year old son is amping up big time. Then I have five weeks where he is with his father and I have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to write and distract myself from missing him. *Gulp*
I have thought from time to time that writing this Diss and succeeding (even just a little bit) with keeping myself afloat this year would do me in. It may. Scheduling an academic life in a hustle bustle world may be the trickiest damn part of all of this. Growing tomatoes? No problem. Organizing a party complete with swimming pool and Bounce House? That's nothin.' Sitting down to write every day? Ummm, help?
But, my son grows bigger every day. I don't want to miss any of it. Adios, Diss until 7/8. The next few posts will more than likely reflect what the "rest of the time" means for this suburban single-mom party girl musicologist. Stay tuned, and grab your swim suit if you're in the neighborhood.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Nap Time
Ok, this is craziness. I had a full eight hours of sleep last night during a rain storm, which makes sleeping more fun for me (I'm only guessing since I'm sleeping through the storm itself, but it's the thought that counts, yes?). It's only 10:45 am, I've been awake for about three hours, I've had at least a half a pot of coffee, I've done a little yoga, I'm writing in blue (see "Seeing Red" post), and my head is about to plop down right onto my keypad. Right now I'm yawning. What gives?
I have some theories.
One is, of course, the weather in the Buff. Four days with little sun, high humidity and some serious sogginess from the cloud cover. The air is thick and quiet. My backyard feels and smells like a dewy forest. This could be making me sleepy, I suppose.
The second is my schedule this week. I wrote about one funeral in the "Taps" post from Wednesday, but I also had another funeral yesterday as well. Odd and strange. I didn't get home from either until 1:30-ish and can only work until 3pm or so on writing and such things. So my momentum has been thrown out of whack. I'm off kilter. And this could be making me sleepy, I suppose.
The third is a bit larger in scope, and combines just about every damn thing going on around here. In grad school, I'd march down my street everyday at 8:30, catch the bus, hit the gym, and head for the library to work almost everyday. I was busy. I had stuff to do. Lists. Schedules. Whatnot. Having my home office 10 feet from my big, cozy bed may be the killer here. I can't lug all of my Diss shit to Starbucks here in the burbs because they are tiny ones with tiny tables (how I miss those big-ass tables from the Madison store. GREAT for working). My computer battery has almost no juice in it and I'm too pisspoor to buy another one, so I need a power outlet within reach to write. Gas is expensive. My days are wide open since its summertime in academia. I feel like I have time but it evaporates like puddles in the sun. Blah blah blah. In a nutshell, it makes sense to stay home and "work," but--hold on, I'm yawning again--sometimes sense is not the key to all logic.
Fourth: it's Friday which makes it tempting to stay, with all due respect, "fuck it" and prepare things to do for Monday. After all, my garden needs tending after this much rain, doesn't it?
So.....I think my next course of action is this: nap as long and leisurely as my body needs it and learn from this meandering day. Make a list for Monday and then do it. Drive less over the weekend and venture out at least for a goddamn hour to write somewhere new and get myself over myself. Shoot for writing in black by 3pm Monday. Give myself a break today.
This doesn't come easy for me because I already feel like a slacker for being friggin' TIRED at 11am. But, these things happen. Buenas noches!
I have some theories.
One is, of course, the weather in the Buff. Four days with little sun, high humidity and some serious sogginess from the cloud cover. The air is thick and quiet. My backyard feels and smells like a dewy forest. This could be making me sleepy, I suppose.
The second is my schedule this week. I wrote about one funeral in the "Taps" post from Wednesday, but I also had another funeral yesterday as well. Odd and strange. I didn't get home from either until 1:30-ish and can only work until 3pm or so on writing and such things. So my momentum has been thrown out of whack. I'm off kilter. And this could be making me sleepy, I suppose.
The third is a bit larger in scope, and combines just about every damn thing going on around here. In grad school, I'd march down my street everyday at 8:30, catch the bus, hit the gym, and head for the library to work almost everyday. I was busy. I had stuff to do. Lists. Schedules. Whatnot. Having my home office 10 feet from my big, cozy bed may be the killer here. I can't lug all of my Diss shit to Starbucks here in the burbs because they are tiny ones with tiny tables (how I miss those big-ass tables from the Madison store. GREAT for working). My computer battery has almost no juice in it and I'm too pisspoor to buy another one, so I need a power outlet within reach to write. Gas is expensive. My days are wide open since its summertime in academia. I feel like I have time but it evaporates like puddles in the sun. Blah blah blah. In a nutshell, it makes sense to stay home and "work," but--hold on, I'm yawning again--sometimes sense is not the key to all logic.
Fourth: it's Friday which makes it tempting to stay, with all due respect, "fuck it" and prepare things to do for Monday. After all, my garden needs tending after this much rain, doesn't it?
So.....I think my next course of action is this: nap as long and leisurely as my body needs it and learn from this meandering day. Make a list for Monday and then do it. Drive less over the weekend and venture out at least for a goddamn hour to write somewhere new and get myself over myself. Shoot for writing in black by 3pm Monday. Give myself a break today.
This doesn't come easy for me because I already feel like a slacker for being friggin' TIRED at 11am. But, these things happen. Buenas noches!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Taps
I have three jobs this summer as I write my Diss. They are all part-time with odd hours, challenging but not cumbersome, and good pay for the time spent. One is a job as Music Director of a church in South Buffalo, the church I grew up in. As with most urban churches, its membership has dwindled and every Sunday I look out into the congregation and see very few people in my age demographic that attend anymore. When I was little, there was a whole slew of us. Now, it's a lot of hard work from a lot of hard workers dedicated to keeping this beautiful building used as it was designed.
This morning I had to lead my first Memorial service for the death of an 89-year old man, George, nicknamed "Bud." He was one helluva guy. I remember him fondly as do the many many many people in church this morning to share his memory and celebrate his life. Good story: after surviving Pearl Harbor and retiring from advertising, Bud decided to learn Judo and starting kicking all the young whippersnappers' asses in various tournaments around here. No joke. His handshake could crack your fingers into tiny bits.
Anyway, it was an interesting experience since I was there for "work." I was holding steady (nerves kicked in right before it began...there had to be, like, 300 people there...) until the end after I played "Eternal Father," the Navy Hymn in his honor. Then, two Naval Officers processed down the aisle, unfolded the flag and opened it wide up front. Then, another Officer came into the back doorway in the back and started playing "Taps." Holy waterworks. It was astonishing in its power. Not a dry eye in the House. THEN, they presented his flag to his wife and son. Man, oh man.
There are many theories about cognition and music, about how music affects us and what triggers various responses and behaviors. I am thinking about them now. I was not in the Navy, but I know the history of Pearl Harbor and Bud's life and what our military history in our country says about the people in this country (and around the world). "Taps" penetrated not because it was about Bud necessarily but because it is a symbol, an object, and a living and breathing one. It's part of the goo that keeps us all together and part of something bigger, maybe. It's performance speaks in ways where other kinds of language fails. It was very humbling.
Probably not a lot of writing going on today. I have piano students in two hours (job #2) and really feel like I need a drink. At least the sun is coming out (it's 55 degrees right now). Life goes on.
This morning I had to lead my first Memorial service for the death of an 89-year old man, George, nicknamed "Bud." He was one helluva guy. I remember him fondly as do the many many many people in church this morning to share his memory and celebrate his life. Good story: after surviving Pearl Harbor and retiring from advertising, Bud decided to learn Judo and starting kicking all the young whippersnappers' asses in various tournaments around here. No joke. His handshake could crack your fingers into tiny bits.
Anyway, it was an interesting experience since I was there for "work." I was holding steady (nerves kicked in right before it began...there had to be, like, 300 people there...) until the end after I played "Eternal Father," the Navy Hymn in his honor. Then, two Naval Officers processed down the aisle, unfolded the flag and opened it wide up front. Then, another Officer came into the back doorway in the back and started playing "Taps." Holy waterworks. It was astonishing in its power. Not a dry eye in the House. THEN, they presented his flag to his wife and son. Man, oh man.
There are many theories about cognition and music, about how music affects us and what triggers various responses and behaviors. I am thinking about them now. I was not in the Navy, but I know the history of Pearl Harbor and Bud's life and what our military history in our country says about the people in this country (and around the world). "Taps" penetrated not because it was about Bud necessarily but because it is a symbol, an object, and a living and breathing one. It's part of the goo that keeps us all together and part of something bigger, maybe. It's performance speaks in ways where other kinds of language fails. It was very humbling.
Probably not a lot of writing going on today. I have piano students in two hours (job #2) and really feel like I need a drink. At least the sun is coming out (it's 55 degrees right now). Life goes on.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
seeing red
When I write anything as an initial draft, the font is red on my computer. Then I go back and read it, and when I'm comfortable that it flows well and is organized somewhat logically with the rest, that section goes to blue font. THEN, when I'm ready to solidify my thoughts, whatever text I need to feel is "fixed" or "untouchable for a while" goes to black. And I consider the black "done" for awhile. Cannot be touched. It's good as it stands because I've seriously considered it three times already. It's the system I have come up with to avoid constantly editing past material and not moving forward with new stuff.
And it works! Yesterday I wrote 14 pages in Chapter 2 (red) and revised a bit of Chapter 3 (red to blue). I like my intro to Chapter 2, and it was already in black font, so I just skipped down to where the red started and began there. Otherwise (and since I know myself well for the most part), I would have started right from the top with the friggin' title and edited all the way down to the new stuff and lost that time. And probably energy and momentum, too.
So, the 14 are in red, although there a few sections/paragraphs in blue because I pasted them in from notes and a few messy pages found here and there in my Dissertation folder. I'm hoping for all blue with more red for today. I can feel a section-break coming in Chapter 2, so that's when I'll try for all black. To complete Chapter 3, this requires a trip to the National Archives in D.C., so I'm not feeling the black font coming for some time. Red or blue it is. And that's fine. The Archive trip will be sometime mid-July (FYI: I'm very nervous about this trip. Whole new territory. More later).
Anyway, everything has a system. My system for writing is being surrounded by my sources on the floor of my office in a half-moon shape that makes for easy reach as I swivel around. My system for writing is to color-code my text so I can keep track of what the hell is going on. My system for writing occurs in hourly chunks. I write for an hour, stop, do some mundane task, go back for another hour. I can get about four to five hours of writing time doing that in a period of six or seven hours. And, I'm preparing for a trip to the Buffalo Historical Society on Friday, so I'm making a list of "holes" that I need to fill.
I'm not crazy, am I???
Gotta go.....Start the clock!
And it works! Yesterday I wrote 14 pages in Chapter 2 (red) and revised a bit of Chapter 3 (red to blue). I like my intro to Chapter 2, and it was already in black font, so I just skipped down to where the red started and began there. Otherwise (and since I know myself well for the most part), I would have started right from the top with the friggin' title and edited all the way down to the new stuff and lost that time. And probably energy and momentum, too.
So, the 14 are in red, although there a few sections/paragraphs in blue because I pasted them in from notes and a few messy pages found here and there in my Dissertation folder. I'm hoping for all blue with more red for today. I can feel a section-break coming in Chapter 2, so that's when I'll try for all black. To complete Chapter 3, this requires a trip to the National Archives in D.C., so I'm not feeling the black font coming for some time. Red or blue it is. And that's fine. The Archive trip will be sometime mid-July (FYI: I'm very nervous about this trip. Whole new territory. More later).
Anyway, everything has a system. My system for writing is being surrounded by my sources on the floor of my office in a half-moon shape that makes for easy reach as I swivel around. My system for writing is to color-code my text so I can keep track of what the hell is going on. My system for writing occurs in hourly chunks. I write for an hour, stop, do some mundane task, go back for another hour. I can get about four to five hours of writing time doing that in a period of six or seven hours. And, I'm preparing for a trip to the Buffalo Historical Society on Friday, so I'm making a list of "holes" that I need to fill.
I'm not crazy, am I???
Gotta go.....Start the clock!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Stormy Monday
I know there have been tragic weather-related events in the past few weeks, and that while Buffalo weather is wild and wooly, it always saddens and terrifies me when the weather is so destructive around the world. Sometimes there is very little people can do even with warnings and watches and whatnot. And in the past few years, we've seen it all, yes?
Last night we had a few major storm cells pocket the region. Good sleeping weather, and great for my garden. And this morning, while the ground is damp and wet still, the sun is out, the breeze is moderate, and all seems back to normal.
I woke up in a spot so comfortable in my bed that it was a bummer to have to roll and hit the alarm (but this must be done). I'm still a little foggy. No "fresh as a daisy" today. I feel like a recovering daisy that was pelted with cold rain water all night. But, I'm getting there. To point: I made a pot of steaming hot water a minute ago. Who needs coffee grounds for coffee, I guess....
But today's Diss chunk is Buffalo in the 19th century and how/where the music organizations began and flourished. The historian in me really really digs this stuff. While gathering research over the winter, I found a lot of material that was haphazard as far as organization and placement, but will come together nicely in my Diss. I didn't do a great job of organizating that material for myself, and the unraveling of my own thoughts has been a chore. But a lesson learned as well.
The first bar in Buffalo was the Eagle Tavern. It was one of 14 public buildings in the city "center" around 1814. The building of the Erie Canal was underway and workers quickly came to the area with the promise of extended work on such a big project. It was a rag-tag group, for sure. Rabble-rousers, dreamers, pioneers. And part of this new "city" burned in a conflict with the Seneca Nation as the Canal was dug, the largest Native American presence in the area (still today even, although moved farther southwest along I-90....lots of stories there).
Funny music-related story....the first music shop owner, John Sheppard, brought to Buffalo its first piano on some sort of flat-bed barge driven down the Erie Canal by mules and rope from the landshores. It was 1827!!! I can only imagine the scene. We are a tenacious bunch!
Last night we had a few major storm cells pocket the region. Good sleeping weather, and great for my garden. And this morning, while the ground is damp and wet still, the sun is out, the breeze is moderate, and all seems back to normal.
I woke up in a spot so comfortable in my bed that it was a bummer to have to roll and hit the alarm (but this must be done). I'm still a little foggy. No "fresh as a daisy" today. I feel like a recovering daisy that was pelted with cold rain water all night. But, I'm getting there. To point: I made a pot of steaming hot water a minute ago. Who needs coffee grounds for coffee, I guess....
But today's Diss chunk is Buffalo in the 19th century and how/where the music organizations began and flourished. The historian in me really really digs this stuff. While gathering research over the winter, I found a lot of material that was haphazard as far as organization and placement, but will come together nicely in my Diss. I didn't do a great job of organizating that material for myself, and the unraveling of my own thoughts has been a chore. But a lesson learned as well.
The first bar in Buffalo was the Eagle Tavern. It was one of 14 public buildings in the city "center" around 1814. The building of the Erie Canal was underway and workers quickly came to the area with the promise of extended work on such a big project. It was a rag-tag group, for sure. Rabble-rousers, dreamers, pioneers. And part of this new "city" burned in a conflict with the Seneca Nation as the Canal was dug, the largest Native American presence in the area (still today even, although moved farther southwest along I-90....lots of stories there).
Funny music-related story....the first music shop owner, John Sheppard, brought to Buffalo its first piano on some sort of flat-bed barge driven down the Erie Canal by mules and rope from the landshores. It was 1827!!! I can only imagine the scene. We are a tenacious bunch!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Yonder Mountain Buffalo
Starting a few weeks back, Buffalo began its "Thursday in the Square" concert series. It's pretty cool. Every Thursday starting at 5pm, several gianormous beer trucks and a sound stage encircle Lafayette Square in the middle of downtown Buffalo. Usually two, sometimes three, bands play and the concert is free. It's always a wild mixture of getting-out-of-good-downtown-job types, suburban 30- and 40-somethings, bikers, homeless people off their meds, teenagers trying to score beer, and fans of the band up near the stage. The space is large, and if you are genuinely interested in the band and want to hear/see them, you have to be close to the stage. I haven't attended yet this year, and many times I just hang in the back with my friends and meet up with people and drink and chat and people-watch. I have seen some good shows, though, or at least snippets of good shows.
I'd say that usually about 5,000 to 8,000 attend each week. For real. Attendance surges for big names--Pat Benatar was a TOTAL clusterfuck with estimates of 25,000 people or something--and there are several places to go out after the Square wraps up around 9pm. The only costs are parking and booze. Oh, and maybe your life since downtown can get a little tricky come nightfall. I wish this wasn't so because Buffalo DESPERATELY needs an image make-over and being in any city is always interesting from a historian's point of view (a topic I'm sure will be part of many posts and I continue "writing" the history of this beleaguered city).
Tonight is Yonder Mountain String band. Not so sure how this will go over. I've heard comments here and there that this year's lineup is very "jammy" and "hippie," and this is expressed as a negative. I, of course, smile and think "awesome!" Bright colors and happy people converging on the city's DMZ is surely a good thing. But, alas. I think if the AC/DC cover band playing at the corner biker bar played instead, much of the audience would be tickled pink to be back in black. It's a tough crowd around here.
I'm not sure I'll go tonight but I've already started to listen to Yonder on my iTunes to get ready for today's Diss writing. My proposal is finished, and yesterday got better as I slowly but surely disentangled the snarls in my brain. I taught some piano lessons then watched some friends play volleyball (I'm a sub on the team and was ready to play but all players showed. Maybe next time). Wednesday is looooong gone, so I'm ready to get cracking at portions of Chapters 2 and 3.
I'm noticing that thinking about my Diss and listening to Yonder feels slightly odd. When contemplating the history of Buffalo as I will today, country/bluegrass is NOT an easy connection to make. Maybe I will go tonight to test my hypothesis about the reception of Yonder in the Buff. I haven't worn tie-dye in a while (well, ok, in three days.....) and my patchouli will fit right in. Maybe I'll discover some long lost loves of this musical genre in Buffalo and can add yet another chapter to my Diss??!?!!? Whoa, Nelly....ok, now the caffeine is kicking in and I need to think about what I'm writing today before what I'm DOING later today. One step at a time here. Better get crackin'. Yee-ha!
I'd say that usually about 5,000 to 8,000 attend each week. For real. Attendance surges for big names--Pat Benatar was a TOTAL clusterfuck with estimates of 25,000 people or something--and there are several places to go out after the Square wraps up around 9pm. The only costs are parking and booze. Oh, and maybe your life since downtown can get a little tricky come nightfall. I wish this wasn't so because Buffalo DESPERATELY needs an image make-over and being in any city is always interesting from a historian's point of view (a topic I'm sure will be part of many posts and I continue "writing" the history of this beleaguered city).
Tonight is Yonder Mountain String band. Not so sure how this will go over. I've heard comments here and there that this year's lineup is very "jammy" and "hippie," and this is expressed as a negative. I, of course, smile and think "awesome!" Bright colors and happy people converging on the city's DMZ is surely a good thing. But, alas. I think if the AC/DC cover band playing at the corner biker bar played instead, much of the audience would be tickled pink to be back in black. It's a tough crowd around here.
I'm not sure I'll go tonight but I've already started to listen to Yonder on my iTunes to get ready for today's Diss writing. My proposal is finished, and yesterday got better as I slowly but surely disentangled the snarls in my brain. I taught some piano lessons then watched some friends play volleyball (I'm a sub on the team and was ready to play but all players showed. Maybe next time). Wednesday is looooong gone, so I'm ready to get cracking at portions of Chapters 2 and 3.
I'm noticing that thinking about my Diss and listening to Yonder feels slightly odd. When contemplating the history of Buffalo as I will today, country/bluegrass is NOT an easy connection to make. Maybe I will go tonight to test my hypothesis about the reception of Yonder in the Buff. I haven't worn tie-dye in a while (well, ok, in three days.....) and my patchouli will fit right in. Maybe I'll discover some long lost loves of this musical genre in Buffalo and can add yet another chapter to my Diss??!?!!? Whoa, Nelly....ok, now the caffeine is kicking in and I need to think about what I'm writing today before what I'm DOING later today. One step at a time here. Better get crackin'. Yee-ha!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
"I'm finished making sense"
Pithier words never spoken. Thanks Dave Grohl (my interest in the Foo Fighters remains intact). As much as I was on point as TaskMaster last week, this week? Oy vey. My brain is on vacation, me thinks. I can't find things ("SexyBack" still missing, among many many other things lately). My lists are incomplete and almost useless as far as having any impact on my days. Yesterday I spent over two hours writing a proposal for the Society for American Music conference (due in four days for a paper I have yet to complete) only to realize that it was a bunch of syllabic slop. So, I gave myself a time out, retreated to my comfy bed to watch the familiar loop of CNN Headline News (better known as "Crack News"). With 15 minutes to chill and get ready to leave the house, THEN my brain kicks in and simply comes up with a totally perfect way to rework my proposal. But I didn't have time to do it! Grrrrrrr. So I scrawled a few notes down on the back of a bank statement (or credit card bill or something...what is this) and just now, 24 hours later, can sit to write. And I don't feel like it.
I've noticed that my weeks have a flow to them. Does this happen to you? Wednesday is always the hardest day. Hump Day. If it's a good week, like last week, the impact of wacky Wednesday lessens. On a week like THIS one, however, Wednesday joyously works her mischievous magic. I very rarely bemoan my splintered existence and say, "So much to do, so little time!!!!" Instead, I usually buckle down and say, "Let's get to fuckin' work." Today, I want to say, "Let's call this one and go back to bed."
But, this SAM proposal doesn't have to be very long, and once it's done--today--I should have a more concise angle for the chapter I am writing tomorrow. Yes? Absolutely. That's the logic anyway. Should I find it again.
I've noticed that my weeks have a flow to them. Does this happen to you? Wednesday is always the hardest day. Hump Day. If it's a good week, like last week, the impact of wacky Wednesday lessens. On a week like THIS one, however, Wednesday joyously works her mischievous magic. I very rarely bemoan my splintered existence and say, "So much to do, so little time!!!!" Instead, I usually buckle down and say, "Let's get to fuckin' work." Today, I want to say, "Let's call this one and go back to bed."
But, this SAM proposal doesn't have to be very long, and once it's done--today--I should have a more concise angle for the chapter I am writing tomorrow. Yes? Absolutely. That's the logic anyway. Should I find it again.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
"Sneeze Louise"
Allergy season in full bloom around here. I take prescription allergy meds sometimes twice a day, and over the past week or so, they are fighting hard in an inevitable loss of a boisterous battle. It's always this time of year that is the worst but I do have problems year round. As a pianist, sneezing--and my vociferous style of doing so--always ended up making its way into some of my final year concerts in high school, summer band camps (I can play flute, french horn and percussion, too), and even simple practicing for such things. When all of these fluffy white seeds go flying through the air in June and the temperatures start to rise, people switch on fans, fire up air conditioners, and open windows. Actions like these bring on the sneeze.
As a senior in high school, my piano teacher and I constructed a "final recital" for the end of that year. In June, of course. Public schools run until the end of the month here and start after Labor Day. Off to college in the fall with a strong cache of piano pieces and techniques under my belt. My teacher taught at a local college, and was "prepping" me for the collegiate music world, I guess. Anyway, I remember playing Chopin's Prelude in D-flat Major Op. 28 No. 15, nicknamed "The Raindrop Prelude." What a piece. And, it goes with the weather around here (see past posts for more on that)! Each section of this piece is fun to play as a pianist. Chopin's writing, as well as Brahms' and Debussy's, FEEL good to play. All knew how to write for the pianist while writing idiomatically for the piano itself. Good stuff.
ANYWAY, my parents, other assorted relatives, neighbors (who had heard this stuff streaming from my parents' house for over a decade), friends, boyfriend, teachers and whoever else graciously came (I always throw "big" events) and it turned out to be a lot of fun and a great experience. Including the now oft-told "sneeze" incident just as the "stormy" section of Chopin's little piece had begun.
I could feel the first tickles in my nose just as I started playing the opening melody for the second time. Thank goodness I had that thing memorized. I had the music up there, though, a practice that would disappear in college. I sat on the stage, poised and pretty and still playing away, and for the next 10 measures or so, tried desperately to wiggle my nose in a way that would eliminate the sneeze--or at least delay it!--while not drawing attention to the fact that I was doing this at all. Not easy. I am nothing if not a multi-tasker.
It hit just as Chopin's storm did. I had no recourse but to keep on keepin' on, holding those quarter notes steady with the left hand while the storm raged in my right and then, suddenly, out of my nose and mouth as well. I turned away from the audience, sneezed as if it was my last day on earth, kept playing, turned back to the music, then sneezed again. And again. Things come in 3s, they say.
I'm not sure what most people remember about my performance of that piece. I hadn't stopped at all and when I finished, I stood, turned to the audience, bowed, and then looked at their faces. Smiles all around, tremendous applause, and much chuckling (in a friendly way, I'm sure).
I won't even go into the events that arose in my nose during the Mozart piano sonata that followed...
As a senior in high school, my piano teacher and I constructed a "final recital" for the end of that year. In June, of course. Public schools run until the end of the month here and start after Labor Day. Off to college in the fall with a strong cache of piano pieces and techniques under my belt. My teacher taught at a local college, and was "prepping" me for the collegiate music world, I guess. Anyway, I remember playing Chopin's Prelude in D-flat Major Op. 28 No. 15, nicknamed "The Raindrop Prelude." What a piece. And, it goes with the weather around here (see past posts for more on that)! Each section of this piece is fun to play as a pianist. Chopin's writing, as well as Brahms' and Debussy's, FEEL good to play. All knew how to write for the pianist while writing idiomatically for the piano itself. Good stuff.
ANYWAY, my parents, other assorted relatives, neighbors (who had heard this stuff streaming from my parents' house for over a decade), friends, boyfriend, teachers and whoever else graciously came (I always throw "big" events) and it turned out to be a lot of fun and a great experience. Including the now oft-told "sneeze" incident just as the "stormy" section of Chopin's little piece had begun.
I could feel the first tickles in my nose just as I started playing the opening melody for the second time. Thank goodness I had that thing memorized. I had the music up there, though, a practice that would disappear in college. I sat on the stage, poised and pretty and still playing away, and for the next 10 measures or so, tried desperately to wiggle my nose in a way that would eliminate the sneeze--or at least delay it!--while not drawing attention to the fact that I was doing this at all. Not easy. I am nothing if not a multi-tasker.
It hit just as Chopin's storm did. I had no recourse but to keep on keepin' on, holding those quarter notes steady with the left hand while the storm raged in my right and then, suddenly, out of my nose and mouth as well. I turned away from the audience, sneezed as if it was my last day on earth, kept playing, turned back to the music, then sneezed again. And again. Things come in 3s, they say.
I'm not sure what most people remember about my performance of that piece. I hadn't stopped at all and when I finished, I stood, turned to the audience, bowed, and then looked at their faces. Smiles all around, tremendous applause, and much chuckling (in a friendly way, I'm sure).
I won't even go into the events that arose in my nose during the Mozart piano sonata that followed...
Monday, June 9, 2008
I want my sexy back
This is annoying, although that's not the most positive sentence to start a new week. I'm feeling very positive and it's warm and a Monday and all of that, but one thing about this weekend has traipsed its way into the workweek:
I'm doing errands on Saturday and trying to be as efficient on my route as possible while "hypermiling" my ass off and just trying to get these errands done so I can go home and go swimming. I'm suddenly struck by the urge to listen to Justin Timberlake's track "SexyBack." Whatever your feelings about the JT, there cannot be much debate about how hot and wonderful this particular song is. Not in my car, at least (*smile*). I start looking in the door storage areas of my car and find the CD case for this album (yes, I bought the CD. I'm that old.) Open it---no CD. "Hmmmmm," me thinks. So I go to my 100 CD book under the seat and attempt to flip and drive, but I'm starting to get nervous because I very rarely put official CDs in there...they are mostly playlists, burned somethingorothers, etc. No JT. I'm not far from home so I throw on the city's radio station most likely to play this track or something like it, 101.1. I sit through Kelly Clarkson and a Kenye track but what I'm REALLY doing is wracking my brain and getting increasingly agitated. I probably needed more coffee and some kind of food in my system (happy hour the night before lasted until midnight), and for some reason this was not an "oh well. It will all work out" moment for me. These things happen from time to time.
I FINALLY get home, leap from my car through the front door to my CD rack and find the first JT solo record because maybe the second one is in there. AND IT'S NOT.
At this point, I sat for a moment, aggravated because now, where the hell am I going to find this CD if it's not in my tried-and-true succession of potential places, huh? Grrrrrr. I'm still a bit miffed at myself.
One day when it DOES turn up, it will seem like a shock to come across its hiding place. But then, of course, I WILL remember putting it there, and feel like a goofball. And not a sexy one, either.
*Sigh*
14 things to do today before I leave the house to do yardwork at my parents' house. The Diss is calling......what a life!!!!??!!??!!!
I'm doing errands on Saturday and trying to be as efficient on my route as possible while "hypermiling" my ass off and just trying to get these errands done so I can go home and go swimming. I'm suddenly struck by the urge to listen to Justin Timberlake's track "SexyBack." Whatever your feelings about the JT, there cannot be much debate about how hot and wonderful this particular song is. Not in my car, at least (*smile*). I start looking in the door storage areas of my car and find the CD case for this album (yes, I bought the CD. I'm that old.) Open it---no CD. "Hmmmmm," me thinks. So I go to my 100 CD book under the seat and attempt to flip and drive, but I'm starting to get nervous because I very rarely put official CDs in there...they are mostly playlists, burned somethingorothers, etc. No JT. I'm not far from home so I throw on the city's radio station most likely to play this track or something like it, 101.1. I sit through Kelly Clarkson and a Kenye track but what I'm REALLY doing is wracking my brain and getting increasingly agitated. I probably needed more coffee and some kind of food in my system (happy hour the night before lasted until midnight), and for some reason this was not an "oh well. It will all work out" moment for me. These things happen from time to time.
I FINALLY get home, leap from my car through the front door to my CD rack and find the first JT solo record because maybe the second one is in there. AND IT'S NOT.
At this point, I sat for a moment, aggravated because now, where the hell am I going to find this CD if it's not in my tried-and-true succession of potential places, huh? Grrrrrr. I'm still a bit miffed at myself.
One day when it DOES turn up, it will seem like a shock to come across its hiding place. But then, of course, I WILL remember putting it there, and feel like a goofball. And not a sexy one, either.
*Sigh*
14 things to do today before I leave the house to do yardwork at my parents' house. The Diss is calling......what a life!!!!??!!??!!!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Fun on Friday
Lots to do today. Many different tasks that I foresee segmenting my day into various chunks. After writing this post, I'm going to tackle de-winterizing my house. Boots, heavy coats and big sweaters will get the big heave-ho into storage til the fall, and flip-flops, sandals and tank-tops will take their place. Make way for summer!
When I was a little girl, while taking piano lessons and becoming aware that I really, raelly really really dug it, I dreamed of being a meteorologist. I soon discovered that I didn't really want to have the job of a meteorologist, but I just wanted to know everything about weather and how it worked. So, I began getting weather books from my public and school libraries and gleefully learning about vergas, cumulus clouds and barometer measurements. Even now, my "Handy Weather Book" sits in my sun room in case I need to better understand what's hap'nin on the outside. Everyone has their hobbies, I guess.
Buffalonians, I think, are somewhat obsessed with weather. It's that weird habit that happens everywhere in which you walk into a 7-11 or a bank or someplace and you immediately tell strangers how you feel about the weather. "Can I deposit this check, and wow! It's really raining out there!" as if the person behind the counter or standing next to you doesn't already know this. But in Buffalo, the weather so strongly influences our behavior that it's like an old and unpredictable crazy friend that you love dearly but never know what's going to happen when they're around. I've noticed that bad weather doesn't often change our behavior here in The Buff, though. Tailgating parties for the Bills occur in hurricane winds, picnics are never stymied by a spring snow shower (yes, it snowed in May this year....but just a little bit and it didn't accumulate!), etc. The weather, I think, is actually a source of pride for Buffalo even while we are still best known for blizzards and other winter weather madness. We're tough little suckers around here, you betcha.
Which brings me to my day. It's going to be HOT, like 90 degrees, and this has occurred rather suddenly so it will feel strange. The humidity is high. By the way, ten days ago, the high for the day was 49, so it shouldn't be a shock that I still have boots and coats and scarves lying around. But this afternoon, some friends are coming over for happy hour to go swimming (I have a heater, and yes, I am aware of my June gas bill. A girl's gotta have fun sometimes regardless of the future, yes?) and hang out before we go watch a baseball game at the park (men's league....hee hee). This will be the first swim of the year, and it really wouldn't be complete if next to the beach towels there sat a fleece vest or a wool hat, now would it? And since it's 73 degrees right now and not 90 degrees, it's best to get this stuff done before noon. I borrowed my dad's weed wacker (I love saying "weed wacker") and sidewalk edger (the worst and most awkward of yard tools) to put the finishing touches on my yard.
Then, I will sit in the sun and do some reading. I haven't read my book reviews from JAMS or JSAM or the IASPM journal in a while and I have a friend's Diss Proposal to read as I continually fidget with mine, so that will be an hour or two well spent before the girls get here. Not much Diss writing today probably, but that's what Monday is for.
This morning in my emailbox, AMS sent a call for papers for a publication celebrating the 75th birthday of Arvo Part. He is one of my favorite composers. Of all time. And he's still living and writing! I just created an Arvo Part playlist in iTunes because it will make me very very very happy to be doing all of this stuff while listening to Part. I wrote a paper in grad school about his "Cantus in memory of Benjamin Britten," and it may turn into this day's "one-repeat" song. His penchant for the cello is so luscious and extraordinary, and I have a recording of "Fratres" arranged for 12 cellos. A dozen cellos! It's like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream. Especially on a 90 degree day.
When I was a little girl, while taking piano lessons and becoming aware that I really, raelly really really dug it, I dreamed of being a meteorologist. I soon discovered that I didn't really want to have the job of a meteorologist, but I just wanted to know everything about weather and how it worked. So, I began getting weather books from my public and school libraries and gleefully learning about vergas, cumulus clouds and barometer measurements. Even now, my "Handy Weather Book" sits in my sun room in case I need to better understand what's hap'nin on the outside. Everyone has their hobbies, I guess.
Buffalonians, I think, are somewhat obsessed with weather. It's that weird habit that happens everywhere in which you walk into a 7-11 or a bank or someplace and you immediately tell strangers how you feel about the weather. "Can I deposit this check, and wow! It's really raining out there!" as if the person behind the counter or standing next to you doesn't already know this. But in Buffalo, the weather so strongly influences our behavior that it's like an old and unpredictable crazy friend that you love dearly but never know what's going to happen when they're around. I've noticed that bad weather doesn't often change our behavior here in The Buff, though. Tailgating parties for the Bills occur in hurricane winds, picnics are never stymied by a spring snow shower (yes, it snowed in May this year....but just a little bit and it didn't accumulate!), etc. The weather, I think, is actually a source of pride for Buffalo even while we are still best known for blizzards and other winter weather madness. We're tough little suckers around here, you betcha.
Which brings me to my day. It's going to be HOT, like 90 degrees, and this has occurred rather suddenly so it will feel strange. The humidity is high. By the way, ten days ago, the high for the day was 49, so it shouldn't be a shock that I still have boots and coats and scarves lying around. But this afternoon, some friends are coming over for happy hour to go swimming (I have a heater, and yes, I am aware of my June gas bill. A girl's gotta have fun sometimes regardless of the future, yes?) and hang out before we go watch a baseball game at the park (men's league....hee hee). This will be the first swim of the year, and it really wouldn't be complete if next to the beach towels there sat a fleece vest or a wool hat, now would it? And since it's 73 degrees right now and not 90 degrees, it's best to get this stuff done before noon. I borrowed my dad's weed wacker (I love saying "weed wacker") and sidewalk edger (the worst and most awkward of yard tools) to put the finishing touches on my yard.
Then, I will sit in the sun and do some reading. I haven't read my book reviews from JAMS or JSAM or the IASPM journal in a while and I have a friend's Diss Proposal to read as I continually fidget with mine, so that will be an hour or two well spent before the girls get here. Not much Diss writing today probably, but that's what Monday is for.
This morning in my emailbox, AMS sent a call for papers for a publication celebrating the 75th birthday of Arvo Part. He is one of my favorite composers. Of all time. And he's still living and writing! I just created an Arvo Part playlist in iTunes because it will make me very very very happy to be doing all of this stuff while listening to Part. I wrote a paper in grad school about his "Cantus in memory of Benjamin Britten," and it may turn into this day's "one-repeat" song. His penchant for the cello is so luscious and extraordinary, and I have a recording of "Fratres" arranged for 12 cellos. A dozen cellos! It's like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream. Especially on a 90 degree day.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Music to my ears
When I moved back to Buffalo after grad school, it had been 13 years since residing here. I visited quite often during that time, but I also explored the western side of the country and lived the kind of crazy that comes with life in your 20s. Deciding to bite the bullet and move back "to the Buff," as I like to call it, rather than throw my seedling CV into the national job search hurricane stemmed from several reasons (many of which, I'm sure will be the subject of future posts). One of the top entries on my Pros and Cons of Moving Home list was the environment and look and sound and feel of this part of the country. Another was that I was simply sick of moving and feeling up in the air, and I wanted to go home and stay there. Come hell or high water. (note: in Buffalo, the weather could actually bring both of these things....ha ha).
This morning I've been sitting on my back patio drinking coffee and getting ready to write. It's early. Being in writing mode always gets me out of bed quickly. I've been home almost a year to the day and in my house 10 months. On 64 occasions since last June, give or take, my little voice has said, "What the hell have you done?" My current theory is that moving back home as a relocation scheme is 64 times harder than plopping down in a new locale. Familiarity is good but it comes with expectations. After 13 years, lots of changes occurred around here. Some good, some bad. My expectations for myself of how easy, fun, refreshing, etc. it would be to come home and how quickly I'd feel home have been put through the wringer, too. So many times throughout the year I've said to myself and to many other people, "Ya know, I finally feel like I'm home." Well, sometimes I've full of shit, even when talking to myself. It's been very very very very difficult and very very very very rewarding. Often simultaneously. But today, June 5, 2008, in front of God and whoever else, I actually do feel at home.
My backyard right now sounds like a tropical jungle of some sort. I live in a suburb of Buffalo, and it's the one I grew up in. I don't live far from my parents, and I have traveled paths through these streets a bazillion times (oh! I have a great Pres. Bush joke about "bazillion," if you are interested). My town is lush in many areas....creeks, old trees, lots of green spaces bursting with springtime among the cul de sacs and subdivisions. It has character. A wildness to it.
Anways, it's just after sunrise, a little hazy with the promise of sun and heat later, and the birds are singing as if they know it will be their best day ever. And they are in my backyard. Presumably, they are in my neighbors' yards as well, but I'm being overly dramatic until the caffeine kicks in and works its magic.....anyway, I'm realizing that I feel no reason to believe that these birds will suddenly stop their outlandish singing or not be in my backyard as long as I own this house. I'm not going to use crazy chemicals or fertilizer or cut down my trees or any such behavior to antagonize these creatures, so therefore I can determine that I will have many many many more moments like this one now that I am home. And damn, that feels good.
Composer/philosopher John Cage challenged the popular/easy/contrived definition that "music is organized sound." This definition permeates so many different circles that I've heard it (and maybe even said it) by all walks of life. It's a good definition to start with, but it is LOADED with potential land mines. Cage found many of them. I am not a Cage scholar, by any means, and I know one particular grad student friend of mine at Harvard who is a "Cage-ian." Good for him because what many people know about Cage has been boiled down to the same trite phrase as "music is organized sound." Cage's most infamous work is 4' 33". The gist is that Cage (or someone) sits at a piano/on stage for that length of time--four minutes and thirty-three second--"doing nothing." The ensuing "music" derives from the sound of the audience, the outdoors, whatever as it occurs naturally--coughing, planes flying, sneezing, a-hem-ming, and presumably, birds singing. Birdsong is already organized to them and to people who study birds and want to know their songs. They are songs. For them. On my patio, I can discern patterns and call-response behavior, and I can certainly tell when the blue jays are being threatened by the crows (or vice versa. Those blue jays are tough!).
But I'm not interested in patterns and songs right now. I'm in the middle of performing Cage's piece, aren't I??? Right here in my own backyard.
This morning I've been sitting on my back patio drinking coffee and getting ready to write. It's early. Being in writing mode always gets me out of bed quickly. I've been home almost a year to the day and in my house 10 months. On 64 occasions since last June, give or take, my little voice has said, "What the hell have you done?" My current theory is that moving back home as a relocation scheme is 64 times harder than plopping down in a new locale. Familiarity is good but it comes with expectations. After 13 years, lots of changes occurred around here. Some good, some bad. My expectations for myself of how easy, fun, refreshing, etc. it would be to come home and how quickly I'd feel home have been put through the wringer, too. So many times throughout the year I've said to myself and to many other people, "Ya know, I finally feel like I'm home." Well, sometimes I've full of shit, even when talking to myself. It's been very very very very difficult and very very very very rewarding. Often simultaneously. But today, June 5, 2008, in front of God and whoever else, I actually do feel at home.
My backyard right now sounds like a tropical jungle of some sort. I live in a suburb of Buffalo, and it's the one I grew up in. I don't live far from my parents, and I have traveled paths through these streets a bazillion times (oh! I have a great Pres. Bush joke about "bazillion," if you are interested). My town is lush in many areas....creeks, old trees, lots of green spaces bursting with springtime among the cul de sacs and subdivisions. It has character. A wildness to it.
Anways, it's just after sunrise, a little hazy with the promise of sun and heat later, and the birds are singing as if they know it will be their best day ever. And they are in my backyard. Presumably, they are in my neighbors' yards as well, but I'm being overly dramatic until the caffeine kicks in and works its magic.....anyway, I'm realizing that I feel no reason to believe that these birds will suddenly stop their outlandish singing or not be in my backyard as long as I own this house. I'm not going to use crazy chemicals or fertilizer or cut down my trees or any such behavior to antagonize these creatures, so therefore I can determine that I will have many many many more moments like this one now that I am home. And damn, that feels good.
Composer/philosopher John Cage challenged the popular/easy/contrived definition that "music is organized sound." This definition permeates so many different circles that I've heard it (and maybe even said it) by all walks of life. It's a good definition to start with, but it is LOADED with potential land mines. Cage found many of them. I am not a Cage scholar, by any means, and I know one particular grad student friend of mine at Harvard who is a "Cage-ian." Good for him because what many people know about Cage has been boiled down to the same trite phrase as "music is organized sound." Cage's most infamous work is 4' 33". The gist is that Cage (or someone) sits at a piano/on stage for that length of time--four minutes and thirty-three second--"doing nothing." The ensuing "music" derives from the sound of the audience, the outdoors, whatever as it occurs naturally--coughing, planes flying, sneezing, a-hem-ming, and presumably, birds singing. Birdsong is already organized to them and to people who study birds and want to know their songs. They are songs. For them. On my patio, I can discern patterns and call-response behavior, and I can certainly tell when the blue jays are being threatened by the crows (or vice versa. Those blue jays are tough!).
But I'm not interested in patterns and songs right now. I'm in the middle of performing Cage's piece, aren't I??? Right here in my own backyard.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Diss day
Yesterday, being June and all, I began compiling information for the second chapter of my dissertation. This one contains a "history" of Buffalo, New York and details events, people, performances, music societies, economic decisions, population patterns and other interesting (and diverse) tidbits that will inform the three chapters to come. It also contains a Lit Review of the historical work already published on Buffalo's history. I'm enjoying it. I did so much research during the last year--but didn't write it out in a narrative text--that these next few weeks represent a cleaning out of my dissertation closet....sorting charts, maps, newspaper articles, published articles and books, and so on. So, in a way, it's just as cathartic as the stuff I've been doing around my house since the end of the semester a few weeks back...sorting clothes, shoes, bills, moving my yard around, landscaping. This familiarity of tasks but the alteration in content makes me feel oddly satisfied, like this is what I should be doing this time of year whether it's getting rid of bad grammar and finding a logical flow in the chapter's organization or getting rid of bad weeds and finding the logical flow of things in my garage.
This chapter begins with the thoughts of cultural theorist Raymond Williams. He discusses the term "history" in his book Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society. Williams' writing always impresses me. It's very clear but thoughtful. Anyway, as I try to write a "history" of Buffalo, I begin with Williams as he addresses the problems inherent in the term "history" itself, especially from a postmodern point of view (which is my POV, for sure). His best phrase is, "History itself retains its whole range [of experiences], and still, in different hands, teaches or shows us [his emphasis] most kinds of knowable past and almost every kind of imaginable future." What a wonderful idea, the "different hands" part. It takes some, not all, burden from my mental shoulders as I try to sift through my material to present the best history that I can come up with and not the complete history (which is not possible, right?).
Off to write until this afternoon when I teach eight piano students. Sounds like a good day. I guess someday, maybe one or two of my students will eventually say, "Ya know, I had a piano teacher once who..." and hopefully I'll be a positive part of his or her "knowable past."
This chapter begins with the thoughts of cultural theorist Raymond Williams. He discusses the term "history" in his book Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society. Williams' writing always impresses me. It's very clear but thoughtful. Anyway, as I try to write a "history" of Buffalo, I begin with Williams as he addresses the problems inherent in the term "history" itself, especially from a postmodern point of view (which is my POV, for sure). His best phrase is, "History itself retains its whole range [of experiences], and still, in different hands, teaches or shows us [his emphasis] most kinds of knowable past and almost every kind of imaginable future." What a wonderful idea, the "different hands" part. It takes some, not all, burden from my mental shoulders as I try to sift through my material to present the best history that I can come up with and not the complete history (which is not possible, right?).
Off to write until this afternoon when I teach eight piano students. Sounds like a good day. I guess someday, maybe one or two of my students will eventually say, "Ya know, I had a piano teacher once who..." and hopefully I'll be a positive part of his or her "knowable past."
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
June is here!
Since my launch of the blog a few weeks back, I completed many tasks except posting to my new and shiny blog. *Sigh*. These things happen, and the start of a new month brings the start of many new adventures, yes?
I wrote about diversity last time as I graded papers and closed out another semester of college teaching. I re-read that post and can sense the weariness in my voice, weariness now dissipated (thanks June!). I graded everything, sent papers/tests/grades to students who wanted them mailed, turned in my grades electronically, which is very convenient, and proceeded to clear the air a bit. And, I attended to my home office. By the time I was done with grading and turning in a chapter of my Dissertation to my adviser, also electronically, my office looked like a bomb hit it. Today is a new chapter (literally as well as figuratively) for the Diss, and all elements are a-go for whatever comes my way. Yahoo!
Diversity....I can comment on the diversity of the weather here in Buffalo for a moment as spring twists and turns, explodes and retreats, howls and wimpers. Today is one of those comfy cozy days. The rain was gentle, unlike the half-hour blast from the sky Saturday afternoon, and I had my window open so it woke me up early. Fresh as a daisy. The forecast for the next week alludes to days and days of 80s with sun (but it's hard to promise such fortunes in these parts...). My goal is to swim in my pool this weekend. The wind all the time makes the sun's job harder, and my tomato plants are workin' to stand tough. The wind is the worst weather. Of all weathers. Even snow is ok without the wind....not in June, though!
Anyway, I've been diverse in my activities since I'm in "catch-up" mode from all choices left dangling but not entirely forgotten during the academic year. I vowed to listen to all sorts of music from my CDs and itunes library while putzing around here in the 'burbs. Oddly, this was the exact opposite of what my listening habits became over the past few weeks. With the help of my Nano and the "repeat-one" button so widely available on all of my audio players, I became obsessed with playing one of three songs over and over and over and over. Do you do this? It comes in spurts. This was one of them. Now, one day last year my adviser commented to me that my heavily researched and edited paper on Pearl Jam grew out of a "commitment" to the band's 17-year career rather than an "obsession" of it. Ha ha!!! It was a funny moment, since it seems anything can be said in a way that makes it OK to listen to one damn song over and over and over and over...so here are my three musical "commitments" from the past few weeks along with my own quasi-rationalization of why they have stopped musical diversity around here in its plucky little tracks:
"Apologize" by OneRepublic/Timbaland.
Of all things, Archie from American Idol refueled my love for this song which, to be honest, had waned since around St. Patrick's Day. "AI" strikes again, but holy canoli! That duet with this band and David Archuleta was pretty good. I love the leadsinger's voice (OneRepublic's, not Archie's), how he goes into the falsetto on every rendering of "too laaaaaaaate" except the last two times when he just belts it out and adds "Yeeee-aaaaaaaaah." The consistent drum loop is highly addictive, and there is a piano on this track and a string-ensemble arrangement to boot! Whoo-hoo for acoustic instruments! Thanks Timbaland!! Mostly, though, I love this song because it fits perfectly in MY vocal range---especially in the car, with the Nano, over and over. Those last two vocal phrases....cathartic!
"Let It Die" by Foo Fighters
Mmmmmmmmm. Dave Grohl. Enough said. No, just kidding. I will absolutely use this wonderfully aggressive, dense and strange track in my classes next semester to demonstrate "polyphony." Having thrown the Nerd Card into a pop music discussion, I'll digress back into my committed fandom....I think Dave Grohl has some of the best ears for melody not demonstrated by pop music in a very very long time. Tori Amos has them, too. Grohl, as a songwriter, can weave a snippet of a guitar lick into the main theme of the song's final climax, as he does in this song. The opening guitar line becomes the chord structure for the end of the song. His melody for "do you ever think of me/you're so considerate," introduced after the early two verses of the song, comes from a HARMONIC guitar line heard right before he sings that very phrase! A foreshadow!!! All of these beautiful wrinkles of melody simply erupt into vocal/harmonic POLYPHONY at the end of the song. All at once, all mixed together, but equally strong and solidly heard. Dammy damn.
And Grohl seems to have found a band to handle his melodic ju-ju (or would that be "foo-foo"......sorry....). His bass player can, while always locked-in-the-pocket where a good bass player is most needed, find interesting chord tones off the beaten path of simple harmonic structure. This is not extremely odd for a "good" bass player, but this makes him "great" to me. I appreciate just that little extra creativity on the low end. Makes me smile. See, he does this first "Do you ever think of me" about 2:52 into the song, and it sounds slightly funky, with a groove. He weaves in and around the root of third and fourth chords making the result very juicy yet unstable (these, of course, are the words used most in musicology to describe such things....smile....) but then goes to the roots for the NEXT repeat of this text/melody making the two refrains different but just a tiny bit! It's all in the little things, I guess. Especially when burned deep in the noggin after a week or so. Go Foo!
"Awakening of Cheerful Feelings Upon Waking in the Country," Symphony No. 6 in F, movement 1 by Ludwig van Beethoven.
This is only about a 10-minute movement making it perfectly manageable for the "one-repeat" button. Beethoven gave specific titles to his music very sparingly. This symphony, "The Pastoral," comes out of my library every spring because I haven't heard much else--ever--that can capture a title of a work better than Beethoven's writing for this piece. My moment in this selection happens about 7:45 into it (on my CDs, the Karajan ones). The opening material has returned again, and that signals that this wonderful, amazing music is going to move toward the end of the movement. The now-familiar melody says its time to prepare to push toward a final cadence, the big endings that Beethoven loves. But right here, Beethoven delays any traditional expectation of "how to wrap things up, now" by pushing the melody into higher and new territory with the full strings and high winds. The melody just soars, briefly, then STOPS on this pinnacle, and (oddly enough) begins to repeat that note seven times before dipping slightly, returning, repeating again. The whole orchestra is stuttering here in this repetitive rhythmic (agitated?) gesture. Then it traces a slow, slow, descent back to where it was. As if nothing happened!!!! It's astonishing. Triumphant. It can only be heard to me this way, I think, because of Beethoven's title, because it allows me hear the sheer power and obsessive tenacity of "spring." And, June is here, isn't it.
I wrote about diversity last time as I graded papers and closed out another semester of college teaching. I re-read that post and can sense the weariness in my voice, weariness now dissipated (thanks June!). I graded everything, sent papers/tests/grades to students who wanted them mailed, turned in my grades electronically, which is very convenient, and proceeded to clear the air a bit. And, I attended to my home office. By the time I was done with grading and turning in a chapter of my Dissertation to my adviser, also electronically, my office looked like a bomb hit it. Today is a new chapter (literally as well as figuratively) for the Diss, and all elements are a-go for whatever comes my way. Yahoo!
Diversity....I can comment on the diversity of the weather here in Buffalo for a moment as spring twists and turns, explodes and retreats, howls and wimpers. Today is one of those comfy cozy days. The rain was gentle, unlike the half-hour blast from the sky Saturday afternoon, and I had my window open so it woke me up early. Fresh as a daisy. The forecast for the next week alludes to days and days of 80s with sun (but it's hard to promise such fortunes in these parts...). My goal is to swim in my pool this weekend. The wind all the time makes the sun's job harder, and my tomato plants are workin' to stand tough. The wind is the worst weather. Of all weathers. Even snow is ok without the wind....not in June, though!
Anyway, I've been diverse in my activities since I'm in "catch-up" mode from all choices left dangling but not entirely forgotten during the academic year. I vowed to listen to all sorts of music from my CDs and itunes library while putzing around here in the 'burbs. Oddly, this was the exact opposite of what my listening habits became over the past few weeks. With the help of my Nano and the "repeat-one" button so widely available on all of my audio players, I became obsessed with playing one of three songs over and over and over and over. Do you do this? It comes in spurts. This was one of them. Now, one day last year my adviser commented to me that my heavily researched and edited paper on Pearl Jam grew out of a "commitment" to the band's 17-year career rather than an "obsession" of it. Ha ha!!! It was a funny moment, since it seems anything can be said in a way that makes it OK to listen to one damn song over and over and over and over...so here are my three musical "commitments" from the past few weeks along with my own quasi-rationalization of why they have stopped musical diversity around here in its plucky little tracks:
"Apologize" by OneRepublic/Timbaland.
Of all things, Archie from American Idol refueled my love for this song which, to be honest, had waned since around St. Patrick's Day. "AI" strikes again, but holy canoli! That duet with this band and David Archuleta was pretty good. I love the leadsinger's voice (OneRepublic's, not Archie's), how he goes into the falsetto on every rendering of "too laaaaaaaate" except the last two times when he just belts it out and adds "Yeeee-aaaaaaaaah." The consistent drum loop is highly addictive, and there is a piano on this track and a string-ensemble arrangement to boot! Whoo-hoo for acoustic instruments! Thanks Timbaland!! Mostly, though, I love this song because it fits perfectly in MY vocal range---especially in the car, with the Nano, over and over. Those last two vocal phrases....cathartic!
"Let It Die" by Foo Fighters
Mmmmmmmmm. Dave Grohl. Enough said. No, just kidding. I will absolutely use this wonderfully aggressive, dense and strange track in my classes next semester to demonstrate "polyphony." Having thrown the Nerd Card into a pop music discussion, I'll digress back into my committed fandom....I think Dave Grohl has some of the best ears for melody not demonstrated by pop music in a very very long time. Tori Amos has them, too. Grohl, as a songwriter, can weave a snippet of a guitar lick into the main theme of the song's final climax, as he does in this song. The opening guitar line becomes the chord structure for the end of the song. His melody for "do you ever think of me/you're so considerate," introduced after the early two verses of the song, comes from a HARMONIC guitar line heard right before he sings that very phrase! A foreshadow!!! All of these beautiful wrinkles of melody simply erupt into vocal/harmonic POLYPHONY at the end of the song. All at once, all mixed together, but equally strong and solidly heard. Dammy damn.
And Grohl seems to have found a band to handle his melodic ju-ju (or would that be "foo-foo"......sorry....). His bass player can, while always locked-in-the-pocket where a good bass player is most needed, find interesting chord tones off the beaten path of simple harmonic structure. This is not extremely odd for a "good" bass player, but this makes him "great" to me. I appreciate just that little extra creativity on the low end. Makes me smile. See, he does this first "Do you ever think of me" about 2:52 into the song, and it sounds slightly funky, with a groove. He weaves in and around the root of third and fourth chords making the result very juicy yet unstable (these, of course, are the words used most in musicology to describe such things....smile....) but then goes to the roots for the NEXT repeat of this text/melody making the two refrains different but just a tiny bit! It's all in the little things, I guess. Especially when burned deep in the noggin after a week or so. Go Foo!
"Awakening of Cheerful Feelings Upon Waking in the Country," Symphony No. 6 in F, movement 1 by Ludwig van Beethoven.
This is only about a 10-minute movement making it perfectly manageable for the "one-repeat" button. Beethoven gave specific titles to his music very sparingly. This symphony, "The Pastoral," comes out of my library every spring because I haven't heard much else--ever--that can capture a title of a work better than Beethoven's writing for this piece. My moment in this selection happens about 7:45 into it (on my CDs, the Karajan ones). The opening material has returned again, and that signals that this wonderful, amazing music is going to move toward the end of the movement. The now-familiar melody says its time to prepare to push toward a final cadence, the big endings that Beethoven loves. But right here, Beethoven delays any traditional expectation of "how to wrap things up, now" by pushing the melody into higher and new territory with the full strings and high winds. The melody just soars, briefly, then STOPS on this pinnacle, and (oddly enough) begins to repeat that note seven times before dipping slightly, returning, repeating again. The whole orchestra is stuttering here in this repetitive rhythmic (agitated?) gesture. Then it traces a slow, slow, descent back to where it was. As if nothing happened!!!! It's astonishing. Triumphant. It can only be heard to me this way, I think, because of Beethoven's title, because it allows me hear the sheer power and obsessive tenacity of "spring." And, June is here, isn't it.
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