tag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:/blogs/various-blather?p=3Essays, Comments and Various Blather2023-02-12T13:42:26-05:00All Rights ReservedVarious palliatives, narratives and anecdotals from home and away.Jon Carroll PodcastsJon Carrollfalsetag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/71526422023-02-12T13:42:26-05:002023-12-02T19:30:11-05:00Comments on: In 46 Words, Biden Sends a Clear Message to Israel ~Thomas Friedman <div style="text-align:center;" data-original-attrs='{"style":""}'> </div><p style="text-align:center;"> Comments on:</p><p style="text-align:center;"> </p><h2 style="text-align:center;">In 46 Words, Biden Sends a Clear Message to Israel</h2><h2 style="text-align:center;">~Thomas Friedman <br> </h2><p style="text-align:center;"><br><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.blogger.com/#">https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/12/opinion/joe-biden-bibi-netanyahu-israel.html</a><br><br><img src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2023/02/11/multimedia/12friedman2-wcjg/We-12friedman2-wcjg-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&auto=webp&disable=upscale" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Demonstrators in Tel Aviv protesting proposed changes to Israel’s Supreme Court." /></p><p style="text-align:center;"> </p><p style="text-align:center;"><br>The last of the 46 is disquieting as it was deliberately and delicately measured: "Building consensus for fundamental changes is really important to ensure that the people buy into them so they can be sustained.”<br><br>In this 7th inning stretch of a tight ballgame right here in the good ol' US, our political national pastime has been marked for over a half century with essentially this very type of authoritarian usurping of judicial integrity, and heavy hitters of Trumpism are still very much on deck.<br><br>Isreal, albeit operating without a constitution, has the same forces within and without, in the form of very real "othering" and fear-mongering seeding whatever uprisings of nationalism and militarism, it seems to be evolving into a none-too-ethical power play with strong arming holding sway in the battle.<br><br>Although Friedman cites the peril of Israel succumbing to the fates of Turkey, Hungary & Poland, he failed to cite the global pandemic of algorithmically agitprop-fueled "consensus building" that put many other societies in the middle of this slug fest, as ours is here. If a passion base is successfully cultivated through grievance exploitation and disinformation, we're all clamoring within the same crisis, constitutional or otherwise.<br><br>It's refreshing to see the outpouring of youth protest in Israel on the front end, unlike the much more carefully considered and, yes, intimidated protest movements here. If the anti-rights forces gain control, we'll all be closer to that moment that will stand one emergency declaration from true chaos.</p><p style="text-align:center;"> </p><p style="text-align:center;">~JC <br> </p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/73135342023-02-12T13:38:00-05:002023-12-02T19:30:11-05:00 Comment on:In 46 Words, Biden Sends a Clear Message to Israel
~Thomas Friedman ...<div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><p style="text-align: left;"> Comment on:</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><h1 class="css-xkf25q e1h9rw200" data-testid="headline" id="link-360a3c08" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In 46 Words, Biden Sends a Clear Message to Israel</span></h1><h1 class="css-xkf25q e1h9rw200" data-testid="headline" id="link-360a3c08" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">~Thomas Friedman </span><br>
</h1><p style="text-align: left;"><br><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/12/opinion/joe-biden-bibi-netanyahu-israel.html">https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/12/opinion/joe-biden-bibi-netanyahu-israel.html</a><br><br><img src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2023/02/11/multimedia/12friedman2-wcjg/We-12friedman2-wcjg-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&auto=webp&disable=upscale" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Demonstrators in Tel Aviv protesting proposed changes to Israel’s Supreme Court." height="214" style="cursor: pointer;" width="320" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br>The last of the 46 is disquieting as it was deliberately and delicately measured: "Building consensus for fundamental changes is really important to ensure that the people buy into them so they can be sustained.”<br><br>In this 7th inning stretch of a tight ballgame right here in the good ol' US, our political national pastime has been marked for over a half century with essentially this very type of authoritarian usurping of judicial integrity, and heavy hitters of Trumpism are still very much on deck.<br><br>Isreal, albeit operating without a constitution, has the same forces within and without, in the form of very real "othering" and fear-mongering seeding whatever uprisings of nationalism and militarism, it seems to be evolving into a ethical power play with strong arming holding sway in the battle.<br><br>Although Friedman cites the peril of Israel succumbing to the fates of Turkey, Hungary & Poland, he failed to cite the global pandemic of algorithmically agitprop fueled "consensus building" that put many other societies in the middle of this slugfest, as ours is here. If a passion base is successfully cultivated through grievance exploitation and disinformation, we're all within the same crisis, constitutional or otherwise.<br><br>It's refreshing to see the outpouring of youth protest in Israel on the front end, unlike the much more carefully considered and, yes, intimidated protest movements here. If the anti-rights forces gain control, we're all one emergency declaration from true chaos.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;">~JC <br></p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/71488122023-02-04T14:58:00-05:002023-02-04T18:00:07-05:00 Commenting on Democrats Overhaul Party’s Primary Calendar, Upending a Political Tradition ...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdW1HPzlYi4tZgmxs6KClnvyeQN2sThPJTIOjhfytRgei-4QQwgXI6_8_IEgVZz9M4QibBsXkBQc4UlItHZeBhhh5B7OsZIEyGJKCYGnej6d-_1nxD3wz0REYbGOjFz6o0bMypUVHxyIhQAkMLRpQ2BlzGuxetjoelDJSPYHkVXHO4Xr812-46OqbK/s598/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-04%20at%202.55.40%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdW1HPzlYi4tZgmxs6KClnvyeQN2sThPJTIOjhfytRgei-4QQwgXI6_8_IEgVZz9M4QibBsXkBQc4UlItHZeBhhh5B7OsZIEyGJKCYGnej6d-_1nxD3wz0REYbGOjFz6o0bMypUVHxyIhQAkMLRpQ2BlzGuxetjoelDJSPYHkVXHO4Xr812-46OqbK/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-04%20at%202.55.40%20PM.png" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="214" width="320" /></a></div><br><p></p><p> </p><p>Commenting on <br></p><h1 class="reader-title"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/04/us/politics/democrats-vote-primary-calendar.html?smid=url-share" target="_blank">Democrats Overhaul Party’s Primary Calendar, Upending a Political Tradition</a></h1><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/04/us/politics/democrats-vote-primary-calendar.html?smid=url-share" target="_blank"> </a><div class="credits reader-credits">by Katie Glueck</div><p> “It’s like asking New York to move the Statue of Liberty from New York to Florida. I mean, that’s not going to happen." ~former NH Gov. John Lynch<br></p><p><br>I mean, what?<br><br>This is exemplary cannon fodder for the party that has had to rely upon "trumping" up what used to be more convincing conflated arguments, vapid slogans and snark culture fuel for anything running contrary to their agenda. <br><br>At this point in the electoral cycle, the facts and pluralistic numbers favorably land heartily on the Democratic side of most every argument we'll hear concerning actual issues, with the possible exception of immigration reform, which is a stumper for most anyone anywhere who hasn't properly appreciated the myriad challenges surrounding climate refugee issues and accelerated overpopulation.<br><br>If these GOP members continue on their tack of upending, rebranding, stoking, bloviating and ridiculing their way to any sort of prevailing (and legitimate/legal) popular victory, well..."that's not going to happen".</p><p> </p><p>~JC <br></p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/71453902023-01-29T19:09:00-05:002023-01-29T19:30:11-05:00Put Away Childish Murderous Things (Commentary on "A child-size rifle with cartoon skulls,...<p> </p><div class="w-100" style="max-width: 1000px;">
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<h1 class="font--headline offblack headline mb-sm" data-qa="headline" data-testid="headline" id="main-content"><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2023/01/29/jr-15-rifle-ar-15-kids/" target="_blank"><span data-qa="headline-text">A child-size rifle with cartoon skulls, inspired by the AR-15, raises concerns</span></a></h1>
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<div class="dib font-xxs" data-cy="name-with-optional-link" data-qa="name-with-optional-link"> <br>The ATF (and the FDA, by similar measures) have failed in many ways while compromising the principle of effectively regulating life threatening commodities. They ceded on the side of profit and profiteers a long time ago. Marketing taps into cultural veins, and in turn helps to create, boost and steer them. It's a vicious cycle. <br><br>Guns have been part of that conveyance/purveyance since the first Wild West shows that played to settlers, farmers and ranchers during the great expansion. It portrayed the culture to its own, thereby presenting them an identity they could then further celebrate, while the rest of impressionable America emulated cowboys, outlaws, rough riders, soldiers, territorial urban and suburban gangsters etc. <br><br>I remember candy cigarettes and bubble gum cigars. Joe Camel was eventually deemed overtly and improperly geared toward children. Kids have been seeing beer commercials since they were old enough to see a TV from their playpens. For a time, liquor commercials were barred from broadcast media. Health warning requirements and other disclaimers continue to provide stopgap loopholes for corporate deniability. I know I'm not alone in finding most of those Rx ads borderline ghoulish, but that's a kind of other story.</div>
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<div class="dib font-xxs" data-cy="name-with-optional-link" data-qa="name-with-optional-link">I was somewhat astonished not by its presence, but the magnitude of the cultural marketing of children's toys that included not only these toy assault rifles, but reams of posters venerating historical gangsters when <span><span>my wife and I recently stopped by a Flea Market just south of Los Angeles.<br><br></span></span>I realized that Al Pacino as Scarface was a turning point that's hence headed more directly in the direction of more seemingly martyred Narco kingpins much more current, tangible and championing violence. </div>
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<div class="dib font-xxs" data-cy="name-with-optional-link" data-qa="name-with-optional-link">The Far Right media continues to cultivate the mental illness they cite as the "true" problem, but there is wiggle room within the taboo realm of safety regulations. Legislated lines have been periodically drawn, most of which succeeded in moving the status quo ever so slightly toward intractable progress. <br><br>This current cultural moment presents not only mass casualties at our daily doorsteps, but an all too overdue opportunity for such a legislative step. <br><br>For fetishist adults and kids that aspire to "have one just like it", these combat devices should be banned and taken off the market. They should be safely locked away with the grenade launchers, tanks, jet fighters and candy cigarettes. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.<br><br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wGx3PjUsh1s/X34Bus2zGmI/AAAAAAAAKOc/E47PHI2IZkgHf2nsxIFke3K0CkcqcdeOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/For%2BJC%2BBlogspot%2BPiece.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wGx3PjUsh1s/X34Bus2zGmI/AAAAAAAAKOc/E47PHI2IZkgHf2nsxIFke3K0CkcqcdeOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/For%2BJC%2BBlogspot%2BPiece.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" width="320" /></a></div>
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<p><br>I began reading Mohamed Sadek’s piece <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/06/arts/music/dylan-wissing-funky-drummer.html" target="_blank">A Musician’s White Whale: Perfectly Recreating the ‘Funky Drummer’ Beat </a>with piqued interest as a music maker, session musician, composer, etc. Its subject and his recreating efforts intrigued me. But as I read further my arcane attention became less benign, and my once eager interest became disgruntled astonishment at the nascent then firmly established creative procedures within what was once an industry comprised largely of creators creating with others who <em>physically</em> <em>performed </em>and recorded body-felt inspired music.</p>
<p>In the “classic” rock era of recording (as in years before) the prevailing process was in pursuit of an ideal: players, singers in synchronous simultaneous fashion. There was an innate veneration informing each individual that became manifest in an ensemble effort.<br> </p>
<p>The current laboratory-like process of seek, scan, scroll, review, formulate, emulate and import seems antithetical to that collaborative performance-based spirit, more aspirational than inspirational. I doubt the joy during the process as well as the gratification after is at all comparable to those found and shared after a live ensemble performance which was also recorded. Having worked within both live ensemble tracking processes, “one at a time” live tracking as well as file import-based "loop productions", I’ll attest to the disparity between the overall goofy zeal that players show when listening back for the first time to that "nice take" together in the control room, or on the headphones they’re all wearing, and the mere successful completion of a cobbled together track comprised of bits and pieces of performances recorded elsewhere by others. I've indeed been involved in both processes and know that for me there's no comparing the voltage and sweat of those two particular giddy "celebrations". </p>
<p>Production processes have steadily and constantly innovated, adapting to fashion/style/trends etc and ushered toward larger economic compulsions. But the most brilliant innovators and pioneers (such as the oft cited and reasonably artistically worshiped drummer Clyde Stubblefield) were bringing their own body, mind, heart and soul to that event, creating music anew informed by vast and myriad influences, such as ever was the case. <a contents="See this piece by Brian Eno." data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.wired.com/1995/05/eno-2/" target="_blank">See this piece by Brian Eno.</a></p>
<p>Rap, Hip-Hop and other Avant-Garde brought audio sampling into the process, which led to further “needle-drop” tactics that were, and are still, exciting within the paradigm of anything becoming art, with and to which I truly agree and occasionally subscribe. Digital recording has accommodated further and admirable “democratization” of musical creativity with prerecorded loops that undoubtedly allow more meagerly-funded and otherwise under-resourced artists to create on a higher, daresay, competitive level.</p>
<p> <br>The forensic aspects of re-conditioning recorded music have always been fascinating, as any conversation with a “remastering” engineer will bear out, especially those who technically revitalize older, deteriorating ad/or primitively recorded pieces (hello <a href="https://folkways.si.edu/" target="_blank">Smithsonian Folkways</a>).</p>
<p>I'm all in for creativity for its own sake, live and let live, live and let play. But I’m also an advocate for righteously corrective legislative efforts such as <a contents="Fair Play/Fair Pay" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.soundexchange.com/advocacy/reintroduction-fair-play-fair-pay-act/" target="_blank">Fair Play/Fair Pay</a>, and have been to Capitol Hill to help grass-roots lobbying for the rights of my fellow musicians who’ve been historically excluded from performance royalties by dint of the fact that US terrestrial radio had never been required to pay for those repeat usages via a legal loophole unchanged since the 1920’s. Those remedial efforts have been marginally successful despite--and perhaps due to--the confluence of transitions in market paradigms precipitated by non-unit based sales, digital streaming and subscription platforms. These developments--beginning in the mid 1990's--and the opportunistic measures ushering them to the fore have been the culprit for a tragically decimated income stream for songwriters and musicians. Perhaps not as much for deejays, but that’s another story.<br><br> <br>There are, nevertheless, some fascinating forensic aspects in the re-conditioning of recorded music that have always proved fascinating, as any conversation with a “remastering” engineer will bear out, especially those who technically revitalize or restore older, deteriorating ad/or primitively recorded pieces (hello <a contents="Smithsonian Folkways" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://folkways.si.edu/" target="_blank">Smithsonian Folkways</a>) to new improved sonic appreciability. </p>
<p>But when this current "blueprint the lick" niche market emerges (and I’m surely not intending to disparage anyone’s admirable work ethic here, much less those that are cultural and arts-based) whose very existence was born from the sonic pursuit of a “more affordable” requisition option other than the statutory norm, thus enabling the "client/buyer/creator" to sidestep higher fees and royalties that would be paid to the owner of the master recording (which could perhaps eventually trickle down to the artists, players, producers, etc., but more often does not) then proceeds elaborately, intricately further by laboriously recreating as many nuanced aspects of that original artistic expression as possible, the line from homage-like dedication is thereby brazenly crossed into the realm of “just business”. At that point, it's cultural appropriation and exploitation, all procedural artistic admiration notwithstanding.</p>
<p><br>I've personally and repeatedly seen my work as a writer, arranger and player become part of a larger licensed income stream for other business entities. I've seen musical notes that required reverent artistic deliberation and many hours formulating, creating and expressively performing end up as commercially marketed sheet music, the proceeds from which I've seen nary a penny. These situations aren’t rare. Artist's recording deals are signed and recording sessions (contracted and not) eagerly occur, but by the time the lucrative “back-end” is in someone else’s pocket, any efforts to reclaim some rightful share would require lawyers, energy and time. As many a struggling (most are) artist might attest, we’ve got more creative things to do. The litigious process can not only sap one’s muse, it can eat one's spirit along with other more wisely spent elsewhere resources.</p>
<p>In light of this all, I read here of a fellow musician, surely blessed with formidable talent and developed craft, glowingly praised for his entrepreneurial spirit and industrious efforts in meticulously recreating/re-manufacturing/reselling what someone else has already created, thus achieving a purvey-able facility that surgically removes the remunerative rights of those who are the original conveyors of such work as well as those of their survivors. </p>
<p>On the one hand, it’s quite impressive. But on the other, it sheds a scorching and unbecoming light on this increasingly more normalized but lamentably vampiric era. Whose hands made that nearly exact but always better music in the first place? </p>
<p>~JC</p>
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<p> <br> </p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/64235092020-09-02T23:04:45-04:002020-09-02T23:04:45-04:00 Preaching Empathy, Compassion and Solidarity from Boo Radley’s Porch<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/189039/c31bdba337555a559093e57d5d51c29edc57f22b/original/wandaga-gtumbletimbers.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /> Wanda Gág</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large"> <span style="color:#c0392b;"><strong>Preaching Empathy, Compassion and Solidarity from Boo Radley’s Porch</strong></span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">She stands transfixed in the wake of recent turmoil, stilled and swooning in the all-knowing hum of the hot summer night. An ever observant eight year old girl reflects inwardly and outwardly. She takes in the view of her home from a new angle, one that until this night was but a panicked and perilous intersection of fight and flight, danger and sanctuary. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">A new and profound knowledge courses through her, bestowed by this wondrous experience: the sight of her house, her entire neighborhood—from that diametrically “other” place. How unimaginable this scene and sensation has been, with nary a hint glimpsed during her few young years. But now, all has changed and from now on, all will be cast anew. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Scout, the young protagonist of Harper Lee’s classic adventure novel To Kill A Mockingbird expresses her astonishment at the unexpected simplicity of this discovery as she states with humble certainty, “Just standing on Boo Radley’s porch was enough”. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">A deceptively basic, undeniably stark proclamation: the larger world awaiting would be inhabited by myriad and disparate realities, inconvenient and stubborn, just beyond the reach of most, unless a conscious choice is made to acknowledge, imagine and explore a perspective other than our own. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">The grand effervescent arch of literature is comprised of these hero’s journeys, each culminating in a rewarding homecoming, a return to where all is as it should be and as we want it ever to be: safe, nurturing, unconditionally supportive, understanding, charitable, forgiving and loving. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">It’s a widely accepted and wisely appropriated narrative model in Greek mythology: characters jostled from their “ordinary worlds”, stirred by a call to adventure, who initially refuse the call, then finally accept it before being irreversibly thrust upon their personal odyssey. Along the way they discern and cherish faithful allies, while becoming wary of lurking treachery in enemies. Mentors on high advise and guide them as thresholds are crossed, battles are fought and crises are confronted in every imaginable form of obstacle. They are dared to grow. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We've notoriously identified with one particular protagonist as she gazes down upon revelatory ruby slippers upon her own two feet. Our hearts resonate with this moment as we wait longingly for the one earnest incantation that will launch us with her back to a safer, more sensible, serene and familiar world. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Consistently, and only after learning to rely solely upon their own fortitude and a newly discovered inner strength, the heroes “find” themselves. Yes, they return home, but that is not the ultimate resolution of their quest. They arrive to a newly transformed origin to present the retrieved gift—a magical elixir—for the larger tribe, a salve that enhances new courage with which to brave its larger plights and woes: the no longer hidden codes of redemption. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">This achievement is not a “return” to what once was, for that would merely be a regressive retreat, but rather the progressive evolution of character and spiritual growth. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We invented the word quixotic to describe a futile effort-- windmill leaning, as it were--for it was Cervante’s anti-hero that endeavored to rediscover and recapture a time when all was right, noble, fair and good, essentially to “find what was once home”, yet failed to realize that his retrospective was illusory. He pursued not transcendent knowledge, but merely entertained a nostalgic obsession with what was at best a vivid aspiration, a fleeting man-made impossible dream which never completely existed. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">That is each our own private place of reckoning. Our future is informed with our past, but that past is enhanced with the same creative imagination that fashions our desired future. We’re encouraged to optimism by promises of an imagined reward, yet hindered by wary skepticism born of the still stinging scars of past experiences. We fear first for ourselves before turning a braver gaze outward to others. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Our larger society is comprised of smaller, closer communities. Within them dwells our respective individual realities. An endemic struggle exists between these tiered cohorts as we each experience the varying degrees of loosenings and tightenings of the societal harness, each pulling (or pushing back) his or her share of cynically resistant or civically responsible load, cultivating a future for both our smaller and larger selves. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">As the world continues to be exponentially more humanly populated, an ever more inescapable fact insists: each is not alone but affected often profoundly by the consequences of behavior from the parochially trivial to the globally pervasive. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Today, chronic dysfunctional divisiveness increasingly proves to be the competitive currency, baiting individual responses, feeding the larger special interests of consorted commerce and mega-industries. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">But there still remains a larger and more reliable truth. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">It says that one is all and all are one, whether or not that’s ever consciously perceived. It too often is not, and I, for one, am frequently astonished by our seeming inability to accept even our one common planet as a unifying concept. This truth bears out in the scientific conclusion that everything we do or say begets consequential effects for us all. It's in these ways, from the nuanced and trivial to the profoundly impactful, that we are each other. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Western capitalists may decry socialism, collectivism or any other myriad “taboo” non-competitive systems, but these too are cynical and manufactured precepts. The larger, longer continuum is comprised of individual lives, each beginning and ending at their own respective points within it. Moments become life chapters become lifetimes become historical epochs. Along the way, those who episodically subscribe to an “on your own” meritocratic approach to citizenry are the least likely to consider any extensive exploration of an other’s life circumstance as worth the time and effort. What useful insight might lie within striven for for sympathy? Why bother, when compared to one’s own more nourished state, the revelation may prove to be abject, poignant and unpleasant? Once elements of protective avarice and caste-related guilt are added to the recipe, the resultant mixture becomes a repellant—forcing one to push from the true self those uncomfortable notions until they're out of sight and mind. A handy helplessness is a byproduct of the process, and apathy is disguised with its uncaring cloak. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Prejudice and bigotry are endemic to the human species as we’re blessed and cursed with a stubborn proclivity to imagine. We perceive through lenses of experience, veils of suggestions and the fluid metrics of convenience, comfort, cause and compulsion. We navigate like animals, ever mindful of possible threats, and we discern these dangers with information that we’ve learned first hand or have supposed from related portrayals and narratives. With these templates we build our personal “realities”, and we rush to defend them whenever they’re threatened, for fear they may be dispelled. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Haven’t we each, since childhood, constructed our own ideas and images of upcoming events, persons or places with no more fuel for fancy than a vague description or notion? We instinctively create the overall tones, settings, faces, voices, feelings— anything with which we can initially relate before actually posting in person for the genuine experience. <br>Words create pictures, verbal accounts evoke experiences, either impressively real or vicariously interpreted. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">The class trip, the party, the blind date, the audition, the concert etc.—those words alone evoke a faux reality based upon an inner perception we’ve weaved from descriptive yarns and the threads of our own recollection. We treat ourselves to a supposed reality and without these “gifts of expectation” those people, places and sensations lurking before us in time would be quite literally unimaginable, perhaps frighteningly so. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Having taken that trip, having had the experience, we’re bemused at the newly discovered disparities between those “before” and “after” renditions of truth. We only then realize that what we’d imagined (sometimes in spectacular detail) was merely a “stand-in” reality that we could conveniently anticipate. The ‘before’ scene existed purely behind our eyes. The ‘after’ was vividly before us as three dimensional reality. We continue to edit, enhance and shape the experience afterward, as well. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Often we’ve heard “I don’t know what I was expecting but…” or “I wasn’t prepared for that...” , but we indeed did expect something in our attempt to gird ourselves for the unknown. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We compulsively prepare. It’s instinctual, involuntary and survival oriented. We as a species suffer from chronic prejudice, and the fear of losing that sufferance results in chronic bigotry. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">As children seeking understanding with limited experience, we asked questions: <br>Why is that child crying? <br>Why is that man angry? <br>What is happening? <br>Why is it happening? Who are they? Who are you? Who am I? </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We received answers from our supreme mentors—our parents and elders—who replied with “explanations”. As youngsters, we’ve no other contradictory information with which to question or challenge, so the explanation is largely accepted and becomes what we anticipate until we learn for ourselves otherwise. With enough verifications within a small number of possible contexts—sometimes only one—we're delivered to an ever more intransigent place where we’d rather our “certainties” not be challenged. We have, unwittingly, embraced our own “confirmation bias”. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We are doing the same as a society. Our legacy is to be the natural victim of hand-me-down partial-truths, convenient misrepresentations, carefully cultivated faux-fact, to put it charitably. More bluntly put, we’ve been lied to, sold myths and kept ignorant. Although hardly a fresh concept, I believe that this societal ignorance, with its critical peaks and nadirs oscillating throughout the eras, has recently gained a chaotic momentum delivering us to a desperate moment. This chaos must be attenuated with reason, knowledge and self-discovery lest the ugliness become a self-manufacturing entity all its own. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">In the face of lament or a sincerely expressed grievance, when faced with the prospect that our words, actions, policies or intimations have indeed offended someone’s sensibilities, we hear time and again the incredulous: <br>“Who says?” <br>“I don’t see why they can’t just…” <br>“After all, what was so offensive?” <br>“Apologize for what?” … </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">…all selfish inquiries, pleas for charitable exemption and undeserved clemency. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">I’ve one personally peevish button-pusher: “They have all the same rights and privileges as the rest of us. Why can’t they appreciate that and stop whining”, and its many related variants. My reply in such conversations is to encourage more exploration of “the other’s” realities, after which you may not be quite as perplexed. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">As inexperienced children, we created realities with which we could eagerly anticipate a journey. As “experienced” adults, we close the doors and windows, pull up stakes and put down the periscope in order to minimize any new information that may challenge long-held sometimes sacredly cherished beliefs. We may even be offended ourselves when such ludicrous complaints issue forth from theretofore negligible quarters. To acknowledge the challenge, problem or "squeaky wheel" would be an admission of having been wrong or unfairly neglectful. But in the hero’s journey it is knowledge that fuels our forward motion. It is what we learn, more than what we know, that steers us home. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">There was prejudice throughout To Kill A Mockingbird, in young and old, within and without, before and probably after. From Scout the weight of her particular prejudice was lifted as if by angels with just one gesture. She’d made a years-long journey to see, hear, learn, feel, try, fail and finally succeed in making her way home only to take a few additional brave steps, delivering Boo to his home. She’d by then learned first-hand that he was not the cryptic monster she had imagined him to be, but a true and caring ally. He had held her dear, being a crucial friend in his unique way. He’d been a vigilant protector for Scout, Jem and Dill for longer than they had realized. He was an ally they’d yet to size up as such. He saved them. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">But the larger, more profound reward was earned merely by turning on her heels to take in the scene before heading back home. The street had not changed, nor the houses, but nothing would ever again be exactly as she’d once imagined, for her real experience was now enhanced with a new angle, long denied to her by circumstance, fear and predisposition. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">The lesson is the elixir: One must make the journey to the other place to earn it, to have it. We must see it for ourselves—in ourselves. But if that’s not physically possible, we might usher our mind’s eyes a few steps further, prevail upon our natural gifts of invention to consider what we may very well have overlooked. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">Only then can we widen our souls’ horizons to prepare ourselves for other truths before those actual trips. It requires imagination. It requires creativity. Those human gears already turn with each day’s plan-making, but when we’re challenged with an alien concept, behavior or customary tradition or a belief strange to us, we might put aside a bit of knee-jerk caution to take a few steps farther outside our comfortable yards. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">If we can heroically summon the will, we might venture part way into the misty veils of faint plausibilies and imagine how someone else’s circumstance may look and feel from where they live. If you’ve not been there, please refrain from throwing up helpless hands. Take a breath, count to three, take a closer look. You may still be wearing the ruby slippers, and you can make that trip. Upon arrival you’ll have won the reward: a fresh take on the origin of another universal sensibility. The glimpse will look different to you. But you’ll also see something familiar that allows you to relate, even a little bit. And it’s all relative. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">There’s a North Star winking above us all, and we each and all have multitudes more similarities than differences. We all have hearts, and we’ve all been hurt. And we all have imaginations. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">But we must take that walk—in our own minds and in our own shoes. When we resist, we shun the challenge. But if we’re to prevail as heroes, we must finally accept that call and make the journey. It may be dark and we may need a lantern, but that light will show the way to where truths exist. If we turn it inward as well, we may catch a glimpse of some fairy tales whose truths aren’t as reliably absolute as we had once preferred them to be. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large"> We can then return stronger with eyes, hearts and minds opened wider with hard-earned enlightenment. That elixir might help to join some smaller pieces of our world into larger sturdier ones. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">We can then “find” ourselves on that other porch that, albeit in the very same neighborhood, offers an altogether fresh view. Sometimes just standing on it and having one gaze is enough to change the look and feel of your own street forever. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_large">~JC</span></p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693602020-07-07T13:52:20-04:002020-11-01T03:27:49-05:00Lou Reed’s Dirty Blvd.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> 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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a contents="A Songwriter’s Appreciation:Lou Reed’s Dirty Blvd." data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://joncarrollsblog.blogspot.com/2014/03/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none.html" target="_blank"><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>A Songwriter</span><span style='font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Arial Bold";'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s Appreciation:</span></a></p>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><a contents="A Songwriter’s Appreciation:Lou Reed’s Dirty Blvd." data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://joncarrollsblog.blogspot.com/2014/03/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none.html" target="_blank"><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Lou Reed</span><span style='font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Arial Bold";'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dirty Blvd.</i></span></a></div>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="font_regular">Anyone passingly familiar with the mystique and work of Lou Reed would be aware of his status as one of the primary progenitors of the “new honesty” in rock: an unflinching stylistic trend that preceded "punk" in the mid to late 70's. Ian Hunter & Mott the Hoople, David Bowie, NY Dolls, Iggy & The Stooges, Alice Cooper, etc. were fresh new voices that returned to and embraced a stark expressionism. Vivid and lyrical, it was not altogether nascent, but a return to the blunter styles of early blues and rock. Eric Burdon & The Animals, early Rolling Stones—perhaps even Buddy Holly-- were ‘punk’ in that the delivery was direct, forthright and unadorned with pretentious production trappings. They were stripped down to big notes and sounds with a won’t-run-can’t-hide presentational approach that torched all chances for misinterpretation.</span></p>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Since then, the tradition continues from mid to late 70</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s to now with New Wave/Punk icons The <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ramones</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sex Pistols</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Clash</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Patti Smith</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Black Flag</b> (continually <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Henry Rollins</b></span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>…</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>) into the Post-Punk 80</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s & 90</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">B-52s</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Talking Heads</b>, Gang of Four, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Severed Heads</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">R.E.M</b>., <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mission of Burma</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">U2</b> and on to post-punk revivalists like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Strokes</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Social Distortion</b>, naming but a comparatively prominent few: those who embrace a more direct style to convey many and varied themes, tales, rants and laments, the last of which may hazard to be romance and love if those particular yarns were abjectly truthful, proud and with no nod to vulnerability. Sweetness for its own sake was elementa non grata.</span>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Lou Reed</span></b><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> was the principle writer of the Velvet Underground before a long career of collaborative adventure and solo works, and among the first of these artists to expound unabashedly on and of society</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s underbelly, its underdogs, the underserved and underrepresented in and out of the drug culture, moreover, sub-culture and alternative lifestyle writ large with multitudes theretofore underexplored. His social commentaries were, for the most part, delivered through the lenses of vividly drawn characters, although he</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s also known for not-so parenthetic rants directed at society</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s soulless and villainous entities, albeit usually uttered in tones of street-corner commiseration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;'>"Lou Reed doesn't just write about squalid characters, he allows them to leer and breathe in their own voices, and he colors familiar landscapes through their own eyes. In the process, Reed has created a body of music that comes as close to disclosing the parameters of human loss and recovery as we're likely to find. That qualifies him, in my opinion, as one of the few real heroes rock & roll has raised."</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;'>—Mikal Gilmore, <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Rolling Stone,</span> (1979)</span></i></div>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Mainstream Pop music, </span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>as with film or any other medium, might include the merely sincere among its myriad characteristics, but it was Punk that flipped the switch refreshingly back to Rock and Roll</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s original proclamatory (and in the purest sense, mandatory) adherence to the ethos of </span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>“</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>saying what you mean</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>”</span><span style='font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Trebuchet MS";'> </span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>with as little incidental packaging as possible. The superfluous is an obstruction, no lightweight consideration especially when constructing a narrative arc no longer than a 3 minute record.</span>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>During his final few years alive Reed returned to radio, hosting--along with old pal producer <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hal Wilner</b>--the gleefully received eclectic weekly 5 hour <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i>New York Shuffle</i></b> on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sirius-XM</b> which still continues, with the implicit </span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>“</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>you</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>re welcome if you</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>re doing something interesting</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>”</span><span style='font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Trebuchet MS";'> </span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>playlist policy. His broad-scope spin choices reveal other interesting aspects to his top-shelf artistic taste. </span>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Throughout his artistic life Lou Reed maintained a loyalty to all that is straightforward.</span></div>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He mostly recorded and/or performed sure-handed clean</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>—</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>or broadly dirty</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>—</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>presentations and portraits that relied on his deft ability to wrangle as much potency from a cunningly considered lyric, a true gift to be appreciated again and again in multitudes of well-turned phrases. </span>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>During his early growth as a student of journalism, film-making and creative writing he was profoundly impressed by the high-octane possibilities of well deliberated minimalism, propelling his lyric writing ever more toward that ideal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The basic, aurally strong-boned construction of Punk provided the perfect accommodation for Reed</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s glib style which stands starkly and undeniably expressive, with imagery abiding in scandalous cahoots with primal rhythms and multi-entendre word craft.</span>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>It</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s this hybrid brew of narrative styles that that I find the most effecting throughout the Lou Reed catalog. It</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s sneaky, as though there may all the while be one continuous chaotic sub-text, a slip-stream cum river raging beneath a mundanely dead-pan commentary. I find Reed</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s dryly elegant effusiveness a deceptively rich archeological terrain begging to be upturned for closer scrutiny. </span>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>One of my very favorite songs can be found on his 1989 album release <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i>New York</i></b>, a contiguous three-act collection that was performed</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>—</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>sometimes stubbornly</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>—</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> in its entirety during its initial promotional tour.</span>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those allowing the indulgence, I’ve chosen the song<b> </b></span><b><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";'><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z3TPwOT31g"><span class="Link"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Dirty Blvd</span></i></span></a></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;'>.</span></i></b><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'><b> </b>for a somewhat granular and reverent, if you will, unpacking: an “under the hood” look at why I consider it an exemplary piece of great songwriting, its layout so vivid and masterful that I had somehow managed to overlook it’s mostly spoken delivery for years. That was until last Spring when I listened with a college class of young aspiring songwriters. One student exclaimed that it was “the weirdest rap song” he’d ever heard. </span>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Its urban universe revolves around the ambiguously young, cursedly poor, dreamily wistful Pedro. Within this relentless and cruel environment his pragmatic coping devices will inevitably, one might deduce, mature along with his hopelessness into an illicit and morally deficient existence. </span></div>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Bleak? Undoubtedly. But truthful and credibly fashioned as only a native empath of </span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>“</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>the mean streets</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>”</span><span style='font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Trebuchet MS";'> </span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>would manage. Over the years the haunting tale would come to wrap ever closer around my head much as this harsh reality would tighten intractably around the pitiful boy</span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s choked future. See if you might experience the same reaction.</span>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>First, the lyric only:</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The mix of the recording is wonderfully narrator-centric, as if the storyteller waits just out of the frame during the compellingly simple guitar intro before stepping in, immediately nose to nose with us listeners)</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Dirty Blvd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Lou Reed)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He looks out a window without glass</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>His father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's got 9 brothers and sisters--they're brought up on their knees</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>but that's a slim chance, he's going to the boulevard</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going to end up, on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going out, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going down, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>This room cost 2,000 dollars a month, you can believe it man, it's true</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>they dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>That's what the Statue of Bigotry says</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard</span></div>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Get </span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>‘</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>em out, on the dirty boulevard</span>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Going out, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>They're going down, on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Going out</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Outside it's a bright night, there's an opera at Lincoln Center</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Movie stars arrive by limousine</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>But the lights are out on the mean streets</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's selling plastic roses for a buck</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The traffic's backed up to 39th street</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck</span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's found a book on Magic in a garbage can</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He looks at the pictures and stares up at the cracked ceiling</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>"At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, from the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, from the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, fly, fly, fly, from the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly away</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Now with some notes, just for fun:</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(And it need not be said that these thoughts, interpretations and suppositions are this writer</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s alone. It</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s perilous to </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>analyze</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Trebuchet MS";'> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>songwriting. Most writer don</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>t enjoy doing it to their own work, and I apologize if the reader is repelled by this overstep. On the other hand, step off</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>…</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>it</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s just a song, a really good song. </span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial Bold","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Dirty Blvd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Lou Reed)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He looks out a window without glass</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The stage is economically set within 5 seconds with these<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>first two lines.Taken literally: abject poverty. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Figuratively, it might suggest there is no lens or protective layer of shelter between outside and in: One reality. Pedro doesn</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>t live IN the Wilshire (</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>will share?</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>) Hotel, he lives out of it. </span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>His father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Further establishing the environment as deprived, abusive, flimsy to the point of ephemera)</span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's got 9 brothers and sisters--they're brought up on their knees</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>begging</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> is reiterated as we learn there are many others there, and they are </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>brought up on their knees</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, raised to believe that they are lower and worth less than most)</span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>but that's a slim chance he's going to the boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;'>(Back to Pedro, he dreams. To wit, his pathetic visionary aspiration is to one day murder his parent. And our credibly world-wise narrator dryly and jarringly dashes even that demented hope as futile, pointing out that Plan A is sadly:</span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going to end up, on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going out, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going down, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The signifiers here are quick and potent: </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>end up</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>going out</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>going down</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>)</span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>This room cost 2,000 dollars a month, you can believe it man, it's true</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Reed introduces what will be a recurring device here and elsewhere throughout the album, using defecation as a handy expression of a total lack of dignity and respect.)</span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>They dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Here again is the insistent mention of </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>dreams</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, a term for aspirations, but now they lead irrevocably back to the </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>dirty boulevard</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, perhaps as Robert Frost</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s </span></i><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173523"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>After Apple Picking</span></i></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> refers to the hauntingly perseverating images which cannot be dispelled by an exhausted laborer at the end of a long day)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>That's what the Statue of Bigotry says</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Boldly animating--then desecrating</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">—</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>the Lady in the Harbor, taking four lines to further dehumanize the immigrants to so much rodential detritus thereby conflating to national policy the landlord </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>laughing while he wets</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>) </span></i>
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<span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Get </span><span style='font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;'>‘</span><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>em out, on the dirty boulevard</span>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Going out, to the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's going down, on the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Going out</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(Now we are introduced to the third act which offers some specificity to the job descriptions on the boulevard. </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Going out</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> is a streetwalker</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s standard pitch, while </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>going down</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> is often at offer) </span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Outside it's a bright night, there's an opera at Lincoln Center</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Movie stars arrive by limousine</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(We stay </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>out</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, outside Pedro</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s world, and the privileged and well-heeled are antithetically busy in theirs. Their night is </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>bright</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>, although Lou slyly and seductively reforms the word </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>limousine</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> into the name of a drug like </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>mescaline</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'> or </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Dexedrine</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>. Just as this listener is thinking this, the following lines affirm the theme):<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>But the lights are out on the mean streets</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;'>(No explanation required.)</span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's selling plastic roses for a buck</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;'>(I discovered that The Robert Frost poem alludes to “stem end and blossom end” as well as other salient images and themes that correspond not too remotely.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The traffic's backed up to 39th street</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>The TV Whores are calling the Cops out for a Suck</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(A vivid scene,with metaphors for those who are looking. Economical phrasing right down to numbers and acronyms.)</span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He's found a book on Magic in a garbage can</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>"At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>cracked ceiling</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>: figurative, literal with multiplied metaphoric weight and now, after all, Pedro</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s dream and hope, is to disappear</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">…</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>) </span></i>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, from dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, from the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly, fly, fly, fly, from the dirty boulevard</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly away</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I want to fly </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>(The Doo-Wop style backsing </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">–</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>remember the doot da doot in Walk On The Wild Side?</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">—</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>function as Greek Chorus and Uriah Heep, ushering the listener, and Pedro to whatever comes next. Another voice (a grown man) assumes Pedro</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>s persona with the vociferous desire: </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>I wanna fly</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #215868; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial;">”</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='color: #215868; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>)</span></i>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This song is a wonderful example of how a simple, thoughtfully considered lyric can achieve amazing and transporting results.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;'>Many Thanks, Lou. </span></div>
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mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style><![endif]-->Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/61997242020-02-01T12:28:00-05:002020-11-26T06:35:31-05:00Senate Votes for Lawlessness--Whose Pyrrhic Victory?<h3 class="post-title"><span class="font_large">In An Unreal Play, Here's Something Real. We're Not Rotten. #NoWitnesses #Sham</span></h3>
<hr><div id="posttext"><span class="font_large">Like an overly ripe plumb, it's nearly sickening but still somewhat sweet as it's swallowed. But one post-mortem assessment is worth noting as something of which we might be proud as a justified entity:<br><br>After 3+ years of blatant malfeasance, miscreant, abhorrent and at many times undeniably unlawful behavior that to all who bear a shred of dignified moral discernment allowing only scant room for charity in the form of reserved opinion, it was the last straw when the whistleblower emerged.<br><br>Most had been frustrated with Nancy Pelosi's and the House's extensive hand-wringing and hem-hawing prior to formal impeachment, their opting to optimize--then emphasize--the "information gathering" phase which would serve to vividly display the abject nature of this dark administrative season replete with as many wince-worthy nooks and crannies as possible for the overall complexion to be regarded as starkly irrefutable.<br><br>They did just that, lacking only a total and probably foolish intransigence in the pursuit of a successful enforcement of subpoenas in the face of a stonewalling, obeisant and corrupt AG William Barr-led judiciary. A challenge to each obstruction would likely be tied up in courts for years as per the audaciously designed agenda of the Trump corp.<br><br>It's my opinion that the Democrats did the only thing they COULD do, and did it with proper prudence, did it as effectively as possible once the decision to impeach had deliberately reached. </span></div>
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<div id="posttext"><span class="font_large">At this moment, we can be assured and perhaps slightly mollified that the right was on our side, the moral spine was ours and a proper posture of respectable forbearance was almost solely exhibited by an honest, thorough and forthright team of House managers each of whom were articulate, righteous, dignified and truthful.<br><br>The maddeningly blind dedication of the liberally estimated 30-40% of Trump's GOP electorate is too far gone in their transfiguring ingestion of alt-reality for their re-convincing or re-educating. Alas, they're not worth demeaning any more than they continue to demean themselves.</span></div>
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<div id="posttext"><span class="font_large">It should suffice to say that the present day legislative GOP has demeaned itself almost incredibly.<br><br>The rest of us should and shall continue to wage a morally resolute war of compassionate souls and honest fair minds that sees to it that this infested and manifested GOP will be held accountable for their moral and legal negligence come this November and beyond. We must however assist them with their political suicide.<br><br>Our pride is real. We're not bent. Our heads are held high, bearing forward and full on for the bigger battles ahead in this insideously fomented culture war. We will win or go down proudly on the right side of an endemically bent arch of history.</span></div>
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<div id="posttext"><span class="font_large">~JC</span></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/60426992019-12-23T13:03:00-05:002020-11-17T04:38:42-05:00Comment re: Sen. Patrick Leahy's Take on Senatorial Conscience and Responsibility<span style="font-size: large;">Responding to: </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/12/23/opinion/senate-impeachment-trial.html" target="_blank">What The Senate Does Now Will Cast A Long Shadow</a></span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">Historians and politicians are quite fond of invoking the "point of inflection" within any active paradigm. There are in fact an infinite number of these. With today's 10 to 20 minute news cycle the epochal benchmarks are ever more frequent and nearer between but, as Senator Leahy points out, this trial phase of this impeachment portends to be the real doozy. <br><br>The GOP appears to have been rather unabashedly building its one-party conscience over the last 40 years, holding party unity and fealty to the cause as its paramount credo and this moment may be the "high-noon" of this insidiously planned and sometimes clumsily implemented campaign.<br><br>No one doubts the intent of this majority Senate. It will hold its collective breath in the face of an all-pervading truth storm until every lawyerly slight of hand, word, reason and logic are manifest within an all too pro forma protocol toward their retention of legislative power.<br><br>All linguistic orchestration and improvisation, every policy construction and each manipulative gambit has more than affirmed their resolve. <br><br>There will be no change of heart or moment of moral relenting. If so it would have occurred by now. The litany of assailable optical demonstrations of this President's moral turpitude had long ago reached the critical point. They'll stand in there, blue lipped, bug-eyed and swooning until the last gavel strikes.<br><br>A small consolation is Trump's narcissistic pathology making this more discomfiting for them. Too small.</span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/50552582018-01-31T22:43:00-05:002020-11-07T19:54:09-05:00Comment on "The Slut-Shaming of Nikki Haley" Op Piece NYT By BARI WEISSJAN. 29, 2018 The legislative Left has--had, rather--for too long insisted on bringing a high and holy frisbee to the knife fight that the Right is unabashedly still waging, praising and perpetuating. <br><br>Since those obliquely insidious conservative Republicans are allowed to sling about all sorts of variably encoded to outright blatantly inflamed red meat to their eagerly homophilic base, then wink and chuckle later that it was perhaps "merely politics as usual" and that it's a "dirty business", why then must the Dems-- who rather naively enjoyed the civility and restraint of their last executive branch champion while he chronically opted to not be perceived as the "angry black man"--continue to play nice and trust that their postures, platforms and ideological policies must inevitably "will out" alone by dint of the moral high ground they occupy?<br><br>Those same arbiters of low ball politics then rather effectively play the shocked victim as if "they never!" would throw a punch with lower than a dignified trajectory. Please...<br><br>Lest the Pollyannas among us are neglecting to notice, our country is in the midst of a constitutional coup and it's time to take the f*cking gloves off and bravely counter-punch hard. No more Mr. Lose What We've Fought For. Let's cut to the immediate and real story, the battle at hand, and see to inflaming those in our ranks to get "fired up and ready to go" to the polls later this year, vote as many of these guys out as possible, then see to impeachment.<br><br>~JC<br><br><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/29/opinion/nikki-haley-slutshaming-clinton-grammys.html" target="_blank">"The Slut-Shaming of Nikki Haley" By BARI WEISSJAN. 29, 2018</a> <br><br>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/49767252017-12-14T02:32:00-05:002017-12-14T04:15:26-05:00Why I'm Keeping My Sirius-XM Subscription<span style="font-size: large;">Some thoughts, notions, knee jerk reactions of my own on this unsubscribe from SXM movement due to Bannon’s return:</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">There are more than a couple Fox stations broadcasting on the platform, there’s the Patriot channel and others whereon much partisan and bigoted gasconade blows chronically if not harshly and steadily. It’s my opinion that many of these “broadcasters" suck at it that job. Their style is hackneyed, their elocutionary skills negligible to nonexistent and their efforts to compel are pedestrian, at best.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I am a professional musician, songwriter and artist, have been for nearly as long as I can remember. I’ve performed at Sirius/XM, and my own recordings as well as those upon which I’ve contributed are regularly played on various channels, a few of which are adroitly hosted with the talents of some my oldest and dearest friends. </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I’m somewhat regularly surprised when other fellow artists seem unaware of the existence of some relatively rarified informational/ talk / debate/ conversation/ interview show programming on SXM channels such as POTUS, Insight, PRX etc. Many times and to many bright folks have I enthusiastically explained that after being a faithful and enthusiastic denizen within the comparatively meager listenership of those shows that if they were indeed made available in the “mainstream” media that our country would have already taken a few more evolved, erudite and enlightened turns away from the situational chaotic mess we’re in now.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I was in fact out for my afternoon run on a tour stop in Iowa City this past Summer, when I heard Llewelyn King (whose show, White House Chronicle is albeit a weekly PBS/NPR mainstay, but whom is a regular guest on Stand-Up w Pete Dominick (Insight), Morning Briefing w Tim Farley, and The Press Pool w Julie Mason etc.) as he was assessing insightfully how a White House should NOT be run state: “This is chaotic without historic precedence, and NO GOOD has EVER come from chaos.” I had to pull up my gait and ponder that pensively.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve been a subscriber to XM and Sirius/XM for over 10 years now and I must unabashedly state that my awareness, my social and political scholarship, and political views have been informed, formed and made more than ever robust via more than a dozen truly enriching, elucidating and opinion fortifying (and dispelling) articles, authors, journalists to who I’ve become aware through these AMAZING shows and their programming. </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">The number of authors, journalists, pundits, specialized and dedicated EXPERTS (yes, remember them?), provocateurs, satirists, inflective agents from qualified and compelling quarters are far too many to mention here if I were to try to lay out a litany of pathfinding champions that have no better nor more accommodating formats in the post Suskind, Pine, Cavett, King (and now Charlie Rose) age of interview shows. Stephen Kinzer, Matt Taibbi, Eric Segal, Aaron Carroll, Chris Frates, Jennifer Bendry (actually, the Weekly Round Table on Julie Mason’s Press Pool show on POTUS has more unfettered and factually formed opinions than ALL the network Sunday shows combined. Anyone who would like a direct line to the worlds and wiles of straight up honest to goodness investigative journals need only prevail upon the Twitter feeds of the hundreds of adroit and arcanely savvy and skilled minds heard on the multitude of these impartially dispassionate shows.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I thought it was a joke when I tuned in two mornings ago to hear callers say, on the seminal StandUp! with Pete Dominick show, that they were unsubscribing due to Sirius XM’s gift of a platform to this “monster”. The reason was that they “had to stand for something” and that this was the only way in which they could have their “voice heard”. Again, this was on a show called Stand Up! and they were voicing their opinion on live radio. Oh, well anyway…</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">...I agree that Bannon's an asshole, but he most certainly isn’t alone. I can tune him out—and usually should and do. BUT, if I were to want to tune in to inform myself of the particular tack and spin being employed by him to his dim minions on any given day (ever read Don’t Think Of An Elephant by George Lakoff?), I would be able to call and challenge he and them directly, or at least do it live and in real time.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">Over 16 years ago, when XM & Sirius were slowly birthed as the Gemini twins of the new satellite broadcast technology whose eventual demise was speculated and trumpeted by forecasters and detractors (XM Satellite Radio's first broadcast was on September 25, 2001, nearly four months before Sirius) there remained terrestrial radio and a slowly emerging 'new-normal’ which we now know as media streaming.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">12 years later in 2013, the survival of the companies relied on their merging, and since then Sirius/XM has slowly come literally out of the blue, out of the red and into the great black as a cash juggernaut of an established economic model with 30.1 Million subscribers.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">During its touch and go years, though before the merger, both companies were hemorrhaging dollars,. After the merger, one life-saver was the acquisition of Howard Stern’s show. It had already garnered solid millions of faithful listeners. It’s been arguably claimed that Howard and his show which many consider jarringly sexist and otherwise offensive to many, was indeed was one of a few stalwart assets that kept it all going during those formative subscriber-base building fiscal years. </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">There was one 6-month period of my life when I listened to terrestrially broadcast Howard Stern show (and was sporadically entertained by it). After one or more profoundly offensive allusions therein, I made a point not to continue listening. I see that his show is still carried on SXM, just as Fox carries Sean Hannity and Co. (not to mention White House Briefings) and well, I feel this is not a zero sum gain.</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I could reiterate the obvious, stomp my feat and say no, no, no to anyone who is participating in any way in the accommodation or propping up of a truly evil person, but since we’ve been seemingly waltzing at times blindly with the devil himself in so many broader realms in myriad fashions, I choose to stoke up on as much compassion-based knowledge and implementable insight that I proudly receive, ingest, digest and make manifest with my own tools of persuasion therein to make small differences in my daily sentient life and creative art. I choose to stay engaged, informed, enticed, interested and eager to learn and be proven wrong from time to time while arming myself with fact-based insight and arcane data with which to debate folks who’ve proudly imbibed and are eagerly regurgitating their various flavors of Kool-Aid. </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">I’m keeping my subscription to Sirius-XM. It’s worth every penny. Plus, they pay broadcast performance royalties, which is more than I can say of terrestrial radio. What a country. I do love it, though. </span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;">https://mediamatters.nationbuilder.com/donate2017</span><br><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/49333422017-11-15T02:07:00-05:002023-11-15T11:43:53-05:00To My Best Friend Mike. I Love You and Miss You.<p><br><span> </span><br> </p><figure class="table"><table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="center"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1-Mx6543Uio/WgvS4F-rMWI/AAAAAAAAB_I/_kgbIroHq50BijLRavLiJ-WNPhz9joOcACLcBGAs/s1600/image1-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1-Mx6543Uio/WgvS4F-rMWI/AAAAAAAAB_I/_kgbIroHq50BijLRavLiJ-WNPhz9joOcACLcBGAs/s640/image1-4.jpeg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="513" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td style="text-align:center;">Backstage at Maloney Hall, Catholic University 1975</td></tr>
</tbody></table></figure><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"> </div><p><span>November 15, 2017</span><br><br><br><span>Dear Mike~</span><br><br><span>Today is your birthday. I’d be calling you today, and probably sending you a video or something that I thought was funny, maybe it'd make you laugh. If you were having a “good” day, you may even call me first. You’d loudly make a stentorian declaration that was joyous as it was absurd about another year in a long life. Anyone who knows you can fill in that blank.</span><br><br><span>That’s what’s easy about this: so many folks loved you and knew you. They’re closing their eyes, probably wiping them, right now because yours was a personality that was easy to conjure, easy to love, easy to celebrate. They’re hearing right now, because yours was “the big voice, that leaves little choice”. You’ll always reverberate. I’m happy for that.</span><br><br><span>But I’m also very, very sad. Because you were my best and oldest friend in this world until you left. Yes, our close families know us and love us…but 12 year old buddies? Forget it—we knew SO MUCH about one another, for SO LONG. </span><br><br><span>I never apologized for our regressive adult goofball behavior because why should I? There was too much information there for us NOT to return to high school, where I think we may have been at our happiest. Everything after—what we did and didn’t share—was too copious a lot to be hauled into every moment. It was the world we were all are forced to confront, and not always easy. It very seldom is. </span><br><br><span>There’s something I never told you, Mike. I didn’t because I hadn’t realized this truth until after you were gone. You may have nonetheless known on some level being so smartly observant and sensitive to others’ feelings.</span><br><br><span>But I'll explain: From the earliest time I can remember until right before my father's death, I was a fairly happy kid. My parents and my siblings made me feel special, the world was playful and interesting and I felt that I owned some special gifts that, when shared, might make people feel good. Folks seemed to enjoy themselves and made a big deal when I would play and sing or perform in musicals. It seemed I felt that I “knew my calling” pretty early on.</span><br><br><span>You had a similar childhood! You were bright and brave (braver than I) and most grown ups and other kids, found you entertaining, helpful, and fun to be around.</span><br><br><span>But you and I had yet to meet. I was in Fredericksburg playing in my first bands, operettas and talent shows. You were more or less doing the same sorts of things in Springfield. </span><br><br><span>When I was nine years old, though, my Dad became ill and battled for a long while. My younger sister's and my ages were enough to compel the older others to shield us from the harsher aspects of that reality until the very end of that fight. I didn’t hear that he “wouldn’t make it” until the day or two before he passed, and my sister didn’t until after he did. </span><br><br><span>Life then reeled and grew complicated in ways not before known. </span><br><br><span>Times were particularly tough for our mother. Another good soul and timely consoling friend to her met an untimely death, we had a frequent prowler at our house, and a fellow assigned to me from the Big Brothers Association turned out to be a pedophile who indeed kidnapped another young kid the following year after we moved to DC. And the Civil Rights/Viet Nam era was raging with its injustices, assassinations, riots and transformative madness. That eemingly cyclical now. </span><br><br><span>When we moved to Washington in Jan ’69, staying in my grandparents’ house in NW my sister and I were the “new kids” at a parochial school in the neighborhood. Most of the kids weren’t very welcoming to the kid who some “thought was a hick” for his “southern accent”. The big deal “boogie woogie” boy from Falmouth seemed personae non grata. I was more than ready for a happier next chapter to begin for me and my decimated family. </span><br><br>That's where you came in, <span>Mike. We still hadn’t met, but soon I would SEE you for the first time.</span><br><br><span>You were in the Spring Musical production at Bishop Ireton High School, which enjoyed a sterling reputation for high quality productions. My cousins Steve and Tim Sheehy were in the pit orchestra, and since I’d be a freshman there the next year, and I was holding out hope that all this wasn’t more mere hype. </span><br><br><span>We drove to Alexandria, and my mind raced the entire way. The show was Mame, and you played Patrick Dennis, the kid. I had been in a couple of school shows, had seen a few, but THIS was the BEST I’d ever seen, the music sounded top notch, the singing, the acting…and YOU were spectacular. You sang and danced, acted believably, projected zeal and killed it. It was a true thrill! </span><br><br><span>I learned that you were an 8th grader but so blatantly and perfectly qualified for the role that they skirted the rules a bit. You'd be a Freshman there the next year. This high school thing seemed promising. I had an anxious excitement for the near future for the first time in too long a time. </span><br><br><br><span>We finally moved to our new house in Alexandria for which we’d left Fredericksburg, and the first day of high school arrived. You had to be there somewhere, but there were so many kids everywhere, I thought perhaps we’d be lost to one another among the masses of long hair, ties, corduroys and desert boots.</span><br><br><span>It was on the second day of school that I heard a commotion up ahead in the main foyer of the school. “Aw, MAN…” a familiar voice crowed, “…come ON, you guys…gimme a break!”</span><br><br><span>Wild laughter erupted from the gaggle of older guys who had—for the second or third time—just batted all of your books out of your arms and onto the floor. “What?? Little Cotterrrrr!?” one taunted. “Get your brother to help!!” Tommy, your brother, was a Senior whom I’d soon later see straddling the bannister at the top of the stairs and winging a hefty book pretty damned hard down the stairs at someone. I'm not sure if it related to little brother's episode, but I like to think so.</span><br><br><span>It was chaos amid the rush of boys headed to their next class. You didn't push back, strike out or call names, but merely let them and that pass until you had the time and room to finally pick up your spilled stuff. </span><br><br><span>I helped you, and you thanked me. I told you that I’d seen you in </span><i><span>Mame</span></i><span> the prior Spring and that you sure were great. “Aw man, REALLY??” you said and introduced yourself. I did the same, and said that I had been in shows, too. But you wanted to talk about music, said you had a classical guitar, but wanted a nicer steel string one. I mentioned that I too played, and you said, again “REALLY? You play? Man, we should have a duo!”</span><br><br><span>That’s how I remember it, Mike…it was that quick. The next day we played and sang together, and it was as if that was always the reason that we had come there. At the time, a new experimental modular scheduling was being tried--students could arrange their classes and schedules to foment huge blocks of continuous “study” time, which was time NOT in class. A,B,C,D,E & F days. Your schedule coincided with mine on E, “togetherness day” you said, and we’d hang and sing and play wherever we could find a space or stairwell.</span><br><br><span>Mike, you and I and most folks looking over our shoulder at this letter know everything that happened after that, since then and what it meant, the cool places and folks to which our friendship would lead, but I never thanked you for being the first person to turn the page in a few really bad, sad and seemingly interminable laboring chapters of a kid's life to the next happier, more exciting and rewarding chapters that led all the way to this moment I’m gratefully appreciating right now. </span><br><br><span>If you don’t mind, I’d like to share something else about you with everyone:</span><br><br><span>When we graduated—after so many adventures both personal and professional throughout our high school years—and college--that great slowly lowering boom of the adolescent-- loomed above us like a great interrupter of all our most verdant dreams. You would be going to Catholic University and I to Miami University in Florida. We lamented the interruption and our separation, but held out hope that my Miami University deal with my mother wouldn’t work out and I would be back in the Spring to pick up where we left off—doing shows, writing songs, occassionally opening for big acts in big halls by ourselves and with Bill & Taffy and others. Mostly, Cotter & Carroll would resume and not falter in DC.</span><br><br>I didn't dig <span>Miami U. There were no clubs in Coral Gables, merely a juke joint a few miles away that had 50 cent 7 and 7s on Wednesdays. I spent most of my time playing piano, singing and writing by myself in cramped campus rehearsal rooms. Oct 26th was circled on my calendar, when I’d be joining you and Bill & Taffy for their set at DAR Constitution Hall, opening for Jackson Brown. That was a magical evening. Jay Winding, Jackson’s sideman gave me a shot in the arm rap that THIS was what I should be doing, that college wasn’t for everyone, and that I’d have time to get back to later. Things would pan out, one way and another. I decided that night that I’d return from Florida after the semester, one way or another.</span><br><br><span>After repairing back to Miami and in the worst kind of funk, I thought that I might not last until then. About a week later, Bill & Taffy phoned to propose an idea: come back to DC, but stay in school by enrolling at nearby Catholic University. And, would I be interested in rehearsing a few songs as a group—a singing group. The group would be Bill, Taffy, Margot Chapman and me. I said sure, are you kidding? </span><br><br><span>No, they weren’t, but I was asked to not mention it to anyone for fear that word might get out too soon, and that could be a bad thing for a few good reasons. I reluctantly agreed.</span><br><br><span>You were so excited, and I was too--I was coming back, and we'd both be at CU, no better. </span><br><br><span>But there was more to this picture than I could divulge and that was difficult, awkward and I thought somewhat unfair. My promise would be broken within a week on the night I showed up at your door at Spaulding Hall dormitory with a bottle of Stoly. </span><br><br><span>I explained it all, sheepishly, shamefully and contritely. It wasn’t that Cotter & Carroll would be handcuffed from doing our thing, but this other thing was very much on the platter, too.</span><br><br><span>“Oh…” you halted for thought. I sat and watched your eyes dart about with your high-velocity thoughts and braced for understandable anger, disappointment and indictments of my betrayal.</span><br><br><span>“Wait a minute, so, you, Bill and Taffy and Margot—that hot chick from Breakfast Again?—that’s kind of cool, huh!?”</span><br><br><span>“Yeah, I guess”, that aspect was indeed exciting I supposed and concurred.</span><br><br><span>“Wow…” Another pause…here it comes, I thought.</span><br><br><span>—“Man! I can’t WAIT to hear THAT, man! That’s gonna be FUCKING AMAZING!”</span><br><br><span>I sat amazed and grateful and a little less ashamed for my silent period of non-disclosure, but mainly I realized what a true friend is. You were more psyched than I, about something that would ultimately mean the end of our duo. We would always play gigs, you and me, you and Margot, me sitting in with your band and vice versa, but it never crossed your mind that our friendship was threatened. I was prepared to lose and lose again, but you flipped the polarity switch masterfully. This was a GOOD thing. It was a win-win. I had never admired anyone more than you at that moment.</span><br><br><span>Your “up” side was the most buoyant lift that I could ever imagine. </span><br><span>It was a constant, a lighthouse that was always on and spinning above a churning coastline. Nothing could deter or reset your positive compass, your proactive enthusiasm. We started with the simplicity of doing something we loved that we could trust would always be there, and ended by having the thing that was simply always there. Love and Friendship. </span><br><br><span>Mike, I was aware early on of your chronic attenuators, how you could be profoundly hobbled during those emotional valleys, but you muscled through them countless times. I hope folks will remember and appreciate just how many times you soldiered through the darkness so bravely.</span><br><br><span>A few years ago, when the two of us were going over some parts in a dressing room before John Jenning’s fundraiser finale, you were so tenuously there—I looked up from the page to see an expression on your face that I thought was surely your goofing at me like so often, only to realize that you were desperately reaching to the bottom of your stores of stability for a gasp of fuel and strength. I know if it weren’t that particular reason for which we were all there--for John--that you wouldn’t have been. You would have been in the place where “misery doesn’t know better times” until a sunnier day dawned. </span><br><br><span>You were BRAVE, Mike.</span><br><br><span>And you had so much love for your friends, for your family. We all know how utterly ironclad your resolve was when it was time to be there, when we really needed you. </span><br><br><span>I just need to know that somehow you’re aware of your profound meaning in my life. I need everyone else to know, as well. The day we met was Day 1 of the rest of my life. I wasn’t at all certain that things would ever start to work out, then you were there. Like a lighthouse. A life preserver. You’re my oldest and dearest friend and I’m just now beginning to contend with your being gone. I miss you so so much, and I know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I hope I see you later, somehow, some way.</span><br><br><span>My last conversation with you was on July 1, and we talked about all sorts of things. Mostly you were just erupting with joy and enthusiasm over your Summer with Georgia, her studio project and how wonderful a person Lisa was. You told me how much you missed sister Christine, how she lured you lovingly over to her house and laid books on you all the time. Gratitude gushed from you that night. No one appreciated good will more than you, Mike.</span><br><br><span>You exclaimed again that you “never talk on the phone this long with anyone!” and we laughed alot and loudly. </span><br><br><span>Then you told me you had just finished an “amazing” book—James Agee’s </span><i><span>A Death In The Family.</span></i><br><span>“That’s one of my favorite books of ALL TIME”, I spat. “Meredith had seen it somewhere and thought I might like it and, wow...”</span><br><br><span>“It’s UNBELIEVABLE.” We spoke of it being brilliant, how it managed to decode the shock of an untimely death through the eyes of a child. I mused of how the brakes failed on the car in the story, how the accident left nary a mark but a just a slight cut on the bridge of the victim’s nose, as I remembered. </span><br><br><br><span>You chimed something abruptly that was at first garbled.</span><br><br><span>"Huh? What?"</span><br><br><span>“A Cotter pin!! It was a COTTER PIN!” You loudly exclaimed.</span><br><br><span>You couldn't stop. “Do me a favor…read just the last ten pages—it’s amazing—just read the last ten pages.”</span><br><br><br><span>Happy Birthday, Mike. I wish you could come back, even for a day. Visit us in a dream, OK? We're waiting. </span><br><br><br><span>~Jauntzy, Stinky, Sfinkter, etc.</span><br><br> </p><figure class="table"><table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="center"><tbody>
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<td style="text-align:center;">From the BI-Word, March 1972</td>
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</tbody></table></figure><p><br><br><span> </span><br><i><span>Some scrawlings if I'd the chance to speak at Mike’s Memorial:</span></i><br><br><br><br><span>We wake each morning to gravity. We usually don’t consciously address it—we merely rise, get up somehow, greet and get at a day wherein we’ve mostly learned to ignore the utterly inescapable and inexorable force—that constant reminder that the center of the earth wants us.</span><br><br><span>We do it, day after day, managing somehow to find a reward. We’re fortified with purpose, dedicating efforts large and small until we get to it— a sigh, a laugh, some measure of gratification, a prize, a wee measure of a larger elation. We defy that gravity that hasn't ever and will never let go. Its tenacity is ancient, its origins a distant cry of unfathomable forbearance.</span><br><br><span>It’s quite possibly the first worldly in utero sensation we have. It’s our oldest companion, friend and foe, gravity.</span><br><br><span>Some find aid in spliced in skewed perspectives, making the challenge ahead seem more approachable, do-able, </span><i><span>manageable</span></i><span>.</span><br><br><span>We feel we’re in a vessel upon rough waters, and the deck is coated with renegade rolling marbles. Or maybe tumbling rolling tubes which won’t rest until they come to rest. Where gravity puts them. We clamor sometimes desperately toward something to which we can cling—a rare slab of stability where we can regroup and refresh. This ride is even thrilling, maybe…perilous…we don’t worry about the landing but …</span><br><br>…w<span>e grow and come to realize that the vessel is just an illusion. We are and have always been completely submersed </span><i><span>in</span></i><span> the water.</span><br><br><span>We rise, fall, gasp, hold our breath, become completely submerged…all the while the current carries us.</span><br><br><span>Like the naturally wise adult salmon, we feel reason for battling upstream against inexorable currents toward our natal homelands. Some do it regularly and some early on realized that they would need to remain close to their beginnings. </span><br><br><span>Whether a boat, a fish, a bird, a man we, as Neil Young puts it, “collide with the very air we breath”.</span><br><br><span>We make bolstered runs up against the same wind we need to fill our sails, to lift our wings. We swim upstream to survive, in the very water that will sustain us and our offspring.</span><br><br><span>The moments where we can merely relax and enjoy the ride seem few and far between.</span><br><br><span>Our futures are nagging entities in need of building, planning, providing and tending. The future steals much of the present, wouldn’t you agree? And many of our concerns, cares and conundrums reside in tidy compartments tucked well within the family home on the back side of that welcome mat. </span><br><br><span>Our friends, our families, our fellow humans are in need, and we draw many lines to sort out what and for whom we choose to see.</span><br><br><span>There are those that find their calling within the framework of rescue, companionship, care giving—the immediate alleviation of another’s pain and suffering, are they are lucky. They have the instant gratification of immediately improving the well-being of another. </span><br><br><span>Alas, there are those among us who aren’t personally rewarded by an altruistic spirit. They don’t get a rush, only an inconvenience. </span><br><br><span>What Mike and I had in common, a frustration of sorts, is that our spirits, regardless of the gifts and tools that we bring as entertainers, are usually gifts of joy, mollification, relief, inspiration. We also love doing it while we’re doing it. We bring a release, maybe some elation, some healing if we’re lucky, and we dig it while we’re doing it. A win win. </span><br><br><span>If only it were that simple. Art reacts, it reflects, it even thankfully deflects…rock and roll, it doesn’t solve our problems, it just allows us to dance all over them for a while. The hard realities and the hard work still stare at us coldly when we return to the churn. </span><br><br><span>As much as he may have appeared to be the typical exemplary middle class fence painting lawn mowing suburbanite male (which he was, in at least those respects) Mike didn’t believe in the paint by numbers life.</span><br><br><span>Whatever conventional conforming Mike managed was voluntary, perhaps discretely begrudging. He was polite and considerate of others’ feelings, respectful of others’ RIGHT to have their own beliefs. BUT, one large ethos of our friend, what he DID NOT believe in: passing himself and his beliefs off disingenuously. Mike was not a hypocrite. He loathed hypocrisy, yet he did not loathe the hypocrite. He understood THEIR plight. That was their “cross to bear”. But he was highly unnerved when one expected him to go along with the motions, the ceremony, the pageantry of and about something he truly knew in his heart he DID NOT BELIEVE. </span><br><br><span>And when a scabrous policy on high reached indiscriminately down to affect the under-privileged, the under-served, and the under-informed, well…we know how Mike felt about that. </span><br><br><span>He was of this world, but his boyish enthusiasm for the weird, the wild, the wonderful was couched in an old soul’s discerning insight into a much deeper philosophy. </span><br><br><span>Cognitive dissonance and dishonesty came into play only when he needed, as most do, to camouflage shame. Shame for himself or his family and friends.</span><br><br><span>In his affairs, his relationships, his dealings, I never knew Mike to be underhanded or deceptive out of avarice or spite. </span><br><br><span>In this way, and in so many others, Mike was so very brave. He was brave to choose to always be true to his heart. He knew how much work that would require. The currents he would come up against that truth within and without. </span><br><br><span>So many of us need to adhere to some existing code to help us determine our paths, decisions, battles. We turn to sacraments, commandments, societal and familial expectations. That’s our culture, and it includes multitudes of other cultures big and small, heirloom and nascent.</span><br><br><span>I think Mike was up against those deliberations constantly, for he thought for himself. That should make us all more appreciative of those times when he went the extra mile, or yard or footstep to be where he knew he counted most. To be there for someone else. To put in the good word. To refrain from a personally derogatory one. To be a cheerleader. A fan. A friend.</span><br><br><span>To not be petty. To see to the other side of a sticking point and move on. Michael looked to see the diamonds in the rough. That's ironic, but true. Between the two of us, I heard scads more pep talks from him than he heard from me.</span><br><br><span>None of us have any of the sure answers, only some vague ones. That money changes everything. That it’s better to have it than to need it. </span><br><br><span>We hold each others' answers in our hearts. It’s better to love than to hate. It’s better to try to see someone’s perspective, or at least respect that one’s perspective, whatever it may be, is inarguable. At least try to understand. If Mike and I were Jem and Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird we’d have spent more time than they did on Boo Radley’s porch. </span><br><br><span>Mike’s Spiritual Creed: Be good for goodness’ sake. These approaches are better. Not because we give them 4 out of 5 stars, but because we should give them 9 out of 10 nods. We should affix them like pocket watches in folds nearest to where there is the least sunshine. We should WORK to be BETTER. Then we’ll ALL be doing better, a little closer to all doing well.</span><br><br><br><span> </span><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sNHkZJiQnnE/WgvmtjVgbMI/AAAAAAAACAE/td8BvYO9WnUa8eqLcpzJ0Uj3jwb82h1zwCLcBGAs/s1600/Agee296.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sNHkZJiQnnE/WgvmtjVgbMI/AAAAAAAACAE/td8BvYO9WnUa8eqLcpzJ0Uj3jwb82h1zwCLcBGAs/s640/Agee296.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="532" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-76s3DfmAz-0/Wgvmucdj5UI/AAAAAAAACAI/k3dfTceGQLMdb-d4q5oEqdfCdNXAELU7wCLcBGAs/s1600/Agee298.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-76s3DfmAz-0/Wgvmucdj5UI/AAAAAAAACAI/k3dfTceGQLMdb-d4q5oEqdfCdNXAELU7wCLcBGAs/s640/Agee298.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="526" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BwpjFUL8zBM/WgvmwL8O0GI/AAAAAAAACAM/J4mKsr2eVpAHQI3W4GYk9y2m3rcbihoaQCLcBGAs/s1600/Agee300.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BwpjFUL8zBM/WgvmwL8O0GI/AAAAAAAACAM/J4mKsr2eVpAHQI3W4GYk9y2m3rcbihoaQCLcBGAs/s640/Agee300.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="540" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fb3CJatZNfI/WgvmwnlGIAI/AAAAAAAACAQ/Sk5k4k5IECEVrzT22bgq6V8RWFI_410VwCLcBGAs/s1600/Agee302.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fb3CJatZNfI/WgvmwnlGIAI/AAAAAAAACAQ/Sk5k4k5IECEVrzT22bgq6V8RWFI_410VwCLcBGAs/s640/Agee302.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="528" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLyH4AFbOM/WgvmxvFXuvI/AAAAAAAACAU/kJGV3fVnadUndZD4ZcZLEHqT-mre9IJIACLcBGAs/s1600/Agee304.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLyH4AFbOM/WgvmxvFXuvI/AAAAAAAACAU/kJGV3fVnadUndZD4ZcZLEHqT-mre9IJIACLcBGAs/s640/Agee304.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="518" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Q1tG9v8MDU/Wgvms3V4g0I/AAAAAAAACAA/87a5RnNEYHwwJiJDFi-R9JB4An0oUgbbgCLcBGAs/s1600/Agee%2B306.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Q1tG9v8MDU/Wgvms3V4g0I/AAAAAAAACAA/87a5RnNEYHwwJiJDFi-R9JB4An0oUgbbgCLcBGAs/s640/Agee%2B306.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="532" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyh61rU5mj0/Wgvmyw6o6vI/AAAAAAAACAY/mOyH-ekdmGUzF5c1aqE7dS0_Ke0x6VcuQCLcBGAs/s1600/agee%2B308.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyh61rU5mj0/Wgvmyw6o6vI/AAAAAAAACAY/mOyH-ekdmGUzF5c1aqE7dS0_Ke0x6VcuQCLcBGAs/s640/agee%2B308.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="513" width="640" /></span></a></div><p><br> </p><div class="separator" style="clear:both;text-align:center;"><a class="no-pjax" href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-69ut1cBMo8A/Wgvmy8Vf0RI/AAAAAAAACAc/WXRxrwyEfBoSK4bAyh1pKkrw7Je8ILFhwCLcBGAs/s1600/agee%2B310.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span><img src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-69ut1cBMo8A/Wgvmy8Vf0RI/AAAAAAAACAc/WXRxrwyEfBoSK4bAyh1pKkrw7Je8ILFhwCLcBGAs/s640/agee%2B310.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="640" width="392" /></span></a></div><p><br><span> </span></p>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/44805712016-11-22T23:02:00-05:002016-11-23T02:16:43-05:00For and Of Our Beloved Friend John Jennings <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rRHls-qiMks/WDUR7dm0KsI/AAAAAAAABkU/mAtb4Jky9rExcb1tL-JTVKcTet5lJVVWQCEw/s1600/John%2BJennings%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rRHls-qiMks/WDUR7dm0KsI/AAAAAAAABkU/mAtb4Jky9rExcb1tL-JTVKcTet5lJVVWQCEw/s1600/John%2BJennings%2B2.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white;"></span><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>For Our Buddy John Jennings on his Birthday</b></div>(I never got around to formally reading this at our friend’s Memorial Service 1 year ago today):<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">OK, then..it would appear--somewhat reasonably--that the vast majority of the good folks here today would consider themselves "middle-aged".</div><br>Those who subscribe to the tenets in pre-conceived dispositions of "ageism" would probably impose the particular year middle-age begins…whether it be 30, 40…50....<br><br>My mother-in-law is presently 92 years old. What she would consider to be her middle-aged years I don't know. I do know that when she relates stories from her younger years she does not begin "back when I was middle-aged".<br><br>My son demurely mumbled to me somewhen around his 33rd birthday that he "doesn't feel very young anymore". <br><br>I once attended the funeral of a wonderful woman who had died at the age of 101. Ripe, old? I suppose those adjectives are fair.<br><br>In light of the loss of my Father as a child and my Mother as a young adult, I declared to my companion that the occasion of her funeral after 101 years was somewhat refreshing since she had “made it to the finish line”: lived a long and multitudinous life. A joyful occasion, really!<br><br>My friend quickly countered, “No it’s not. She didn’t want to die!”<br><br>The point that most of us would gladly take life over no life at any point within a life. John and I chronically invoked the famous scene from Unforgiven wherein the blubbering young cowboy posse initiate is shakily confronting the emotional aftermath of his first killing.<br><br>Clint Eastwood says, "It's a hell of a thing killing a man: take away all he’s got and all he’s gonna have” to which the kid says, " yeah but I guess he had it coming, huh?"<br><br>"We've all have it coming, kid”, utters Clint. <br><br>At some point in our lives we look up to notice that we've been lucky enough to be around long enough and work at one type of thing along with a small group of people. And within that relatively cozy group, we’ve made life-long and cherished friends.<br><br>Weeks, months, years, decades pass and bonds are formed. Each unique. Some stronger or weaker than the last or next, a course with peaks and valleys as we forge ahead like a plow horse until the day you realize that you've known a particular soul for longer than most others in your life, you've spent more time with that person than you with your own nuclear family before you flew from the nest toward adulthood. <br><br>And with these souls, if things went so rightly, you managed to create and accomplish some mightily profound feats. You’ve healed, entertained, taught, learned, served and earned your worth as you together gained and sustained. <br><br>I firmly believe that all of our years here are formative ones.<br><br>Those hours add up and—lo and behold—you have a true brother or sister. They know you—and you know them— extremely well. Sometimes it feels too well!<br><br>The things you done, the places you've been, the experiences you’ve shared…together…realtime…over a long time. That history. Is anything more precious?<br><br>At one point during one of our many late night powwows (in our 20s and 30s— the fires were usually stoked by any number of mind altering substances, and in our 40s and 50s they were stoked with experience, jaded retrospect and hard-fought wisdom. The latter being every bit as—no make that more—intoxicating then the former) John confessed and professed a deep and abiding commitment : "Jon, I've known you since you were 19 years old and we are now in our 40s”. Regardless of what you may have ever said to me, about me or done to me and whatever I have ever said about or done to you, well…(taking a long thoughtful John pause) we're still here and I am highly rewarded with this relationship. Man, I am all in until the end of the line.” <br><br>It's interesting to me that John and I very seldom spoke in any sort of granular detail about what we did within the context of shows, recording sessions and such.<br><br>But we certainly talked about most all else.<br><br>John loved bandying on about any art whatsoever. His polymathic intellect new no bounds, and that made it especially difficult for the unsuspecting and quixotically reluctant new acquaintance to escape the compelling clutches of John's charmingly amiable, expertly convincing, informative, elucidative and engaging manner. John was pretty danged irresistible.<br><br>On a tour flight to Boulder, Colorado John was seated next to an attractive(ly) off duty flight attendant. He chatted her up for the entire way, as usual, and by the time we had landed John had not only made a new friend but had garnered an invitation for himself and a few of us others to meet her and her pilot husband for a late morning & early afternoon training session in a full-scale FAA grade 747 flight simulator. The ones in which the guys up front did their training.<br><br>It made total sense, this sort of encounter, and John’s associates would see this type of thing again and again:<br><br>A stranger, a friend of a friend at a party, a bandmate, a travel mate…hearing perhaps the voice first…gentle, genteel, that of a broadcast announcer who may always make it home to read the bed time story to the kids. His voice was velvety, lyrical, laced with experience, compassion and empathy. Perhaps prior to that, or concurrently…she’d see the eyes. John’s eyes were extremely easy on the eyes. And they were extremely intelligent eyes, and that—coupled with his overall demeanor and sympathetic ear—were indeed windows into an exceptionally beautiful soul. <br><br>He had that woman at “how ARE you?”, and the following Tuesday John and a few others were at the controls, trying not to crash.<br><br>John would later glowingly report on the splendid field trip, how he was rather impressed with himself to be the only one in the group to NOT crash the simulated jumbo jet.<br><br><br>In an interview with Bill Holland, John states that in his younger years, one of his less than admirable behavioral traits was that “he could be manipulative”.<br><br>I’m venturing to guess that was born from an early life discovery of his spellbinding way with people. We all know that many folks found themselves wanting to impress John, longing to please John, as doing so rendered them pleased with themselves. <br><br>John somehow managed on many occasions to show, and/or share that he was indeed pleased with—well, proud of— himself, and he did that in a becoming way. It was undeniably evident and, hell, you had to agree with him.<br><br>Yes, John was more than aware that he was extraordinary, with the self-assuredness of a phobic person who time and again has rediscovered his more than adequate tools for survival: a multitude of natural abilities and gifts,…intellect, compassion, hard fought and heartfelt worth…<br><br>We all know John was one of those rare individuals to whom the skill for tasks difficult and tenuous for others would come relatively easy.<br><br>It was John's way to somehow manage a disarming humility, fronted with a winkingly disingenuous modesty when he would remark that guitar playing was something that came "pretty easily" to him. <br><br>He must've been aware just how much that could piss off at least a dozen other guitar players we know, yeah? <br><br>John knew—and would privately share— which other players amazed him or “gave him a run for his money”. You all know who you are. Maybe not. I’ll tell yaz later. He probably told you already. John would say, “I don’t want to talk out of school” pretty frequently.<br><br>John knew how to do a lot of things and knew how to do them well without a whole lot of help from others. It was because of this that, when the rare situation arose wherein John asked for your help, it would certainly bolster your confidence, up your seeming (“conscious and unconscious”) aptitude and your self-esteem, for we all knew of his prickly discernment of everything practical, artistic or just plain trivial, how fussy he could be.<br><br>We all know that horn players can be bawdy, string players may be meekly sensitive, drummers can be crude, bass players smooth—always get the girls, piano players are somewhat snobby and aloof, but guitar players… by and large are…a fussy lot.<br><br>And John was fussier than most.<br><br>He wasn't always outspoken about his opinions of things, no wait…yes, he usually was…but that was usually when within small groups of people and definitely when it was just the two of you chatting. <br><br>Here's the thing – John would matter-of-factly state this—he was good at "getting" people... that is to say: he was a great judge of people... he could pick up what made you tick and do it pretty damn quick, enough to make you sick…figure out your trick, make you feel like such a d***. <br><br>He “could think faster than you could ever run, run, run…”<br><br>That could be a bit nerve-racking sometimes.<br><br>John could dish. For the most part his dishing was about music and art – let's just say music, because he was first to disclaim with a global "what do I know?… however" of literature or movies. but being a musician songwriter – brilliant songwriter – and a record producer, he felt he had the license to spill some acid for the benefit of a brighter more evolved scene on folks’ behalf from time to time.<br><br>Politics, current affairs…NOW we’re rocking’. John would chronically contextualize his sociological points with “let’s not worry about me…my politics are so left of left of left, they are OFF the table the radar is on…"<br><br>As an artist, that license is extremely healthy: the exchange (sometimes heated) of ideas, beliefs, concerns and consternations that apply to our communal belief that in our artistic endeavors we should primarily focus on creating something that matters. As an artist he felt that and strongly. As a producer, he was primarily concerned with the piece, that the track, the project on which you were working well, was “working”. He excelled at that.<br><br>There was a calm and sure-handed approach to all his projects, which fostered a reassuring and angst free (for the most part) collaboration with many songwriters and artists. There was something about John that, if you allowed it to work, and didn’t fight it, could make you feel verrrry good about yourself. And that’s verrrry good, when recording yourrrr record.<br><br>John didn't like young bands very much. In fact, I don't think he took naturally or affectionately to youngsters much at all. When speaking of young bands that invite their friends to fill up a pub once a week, or a band of other-than-musical professionals: lawyers, doctors and dentists who throw together a band and play at the country club every now and then... John could be pretty merciless. He resented their “air time”, and he was outspoken about it.<br><br>I would say something like “ah what the hell, live and let live, live and let play” or some such shite, and John would say "no I don't agree with that because they're out there taking up air meant for the the rest of us." Somehow I didn't see this as an elitist statement, I saw it as the way John was committed himself to seeing to music and art getting the respect they deserve. If you were merely noodling on the guitar during an idle chat, there should still be a modicum of deliberation behind every half-minded lick. In other words: When it came to making music, John didn't fuck around. That's not to say he didn't have any fun, he had buckets of fun. In the studio he had a way of being so totally low-key...as many an adroit producer aspires to be--that he somehow got great performances out of folks most of the time. Laid back, praising, ENJOYING himself…enjoying others.<br><br>I think he loved being the first person to say, let’s take a break…this’ll be great…and we’d repair to the porch for chocolate and a smoke and conversation having absolutely NOTHING to do with the work at hand.<br><br>John was intense without appearing intense. When he was working.<br><br>When he wasn’t working John appeared intense. Not in a bad way, (unless really bugged “Jaking” as a close friend would say) but in a thoughtful, sometimes lofty way, as if his hyper-awareness rendered most situations and conversations to be something with which he was either familiar, or one whose aspects and concepts he’d once easily grasped, or could easily grasp again. He bored easily.<br><br>He could come off as jaded, pre-occupied, cynical, skeptical, sardonic. Also whimsical, fantastical, and oh so funny. <br><br>Just when I’d be thinking or grousing internally that John had a bit of a superiority complex, he would say something so disarming, so self-deprecating, so…humble, that I’d feel guilty for thinking he was any other way. <br><br>He was taken aback, truly…whenever I’d compliment him on his economy, sensitivity and approach to piano parts. OK, I merely praised his part, and it seemed to stop him in his tracks.<br><br>When he’d make some of the best and wittiest remarks, resulting in my wincing and tearing with laughter he’d say, "Oh my God, Jon…you’re laughing at MY joke? Damn!" <br><br>John’s ego was huge, but it was dwarfed by his enormous heart.<br><br>Being friends with John meant seeing the world through the eyes of John, and that wasn’t always an uplifting experience. <br><br>You had a much better shot at rosy-ing up your outlook by listening to Marilyn Manson, Morrissey or something, but… we all know how it was to be greeted by John: Never a "hey how are ya”, or “hi” it was more than often “(your name here) how ARE you!”<br><br>When asked how HE was doing he would glow with aplomb..”I have NO complaints.” “All the better for seeing you!”<br><br>John held fast onto pearls of wisdom, and would readily recite them.<br><br>As fussy, particular and bristly as John may seemingly be, he was an overall zealous celebrant of life and love. Love was most important in a life filled with “just details”.<br><br>John was very strong. "Strong like bull”, he would say. He was more self-reliant than most folks. He was intellectually strong, and for someone who had serious bouts with phobias and neuroses he was a remarkable exemplar of high emotional IQ. John dealt with all people in a most civilized fashion, but when holding fast to his principles, his tenacity was cement-solid. …whatever the aspects behind any contentious issue, he had thought about them a great deal. <br><br>John had strong opinions, and so do I, and it was remarkable that we remained friends in light of the fact that when we had opposed views, they were diametrically such, but those instances usually had nothing more crucial than Kubrick’s framing, Cukos ethos, Solti, Visconti or Debra Winger’s performance in Mike’s Murder.<br><br><br>There was the accident wherein the sky actually fell on he and Tamara. A big tree, actually.<br><br>Mere months later John would be arriving to his gig, Holiday lights coruscating on the apparatus screwed into his skull and affixed to his torso, a device ironically called a ‘halo’…and exclaim gently and firmly “I am the luckiest person I know.” <br><br><br>But years later as John and I walked the corridors of NIH after his second cancer surgery—one day afterward, actually—he was his usual optimistic, highly philosophical self, praising Tamara, the network of folks supporting him, his top-drawer doctors. Grateful, humble, shuttling, scuffling, hobbled, strapped, poked, and tubed…he was upbeat.<br><br>But at one point, in that way we all know of John, he stopped, turned to look me straight me in the eye with a semi-beseeching rise in one eyebrow, and said, “Don’t get me wrong. I AM aware of and appreciate the gravity of the situation.” <br><br>As much as John enjoyed spinning yarns from the old days (show business does tend to generate many entertaining, funny, interesting tales. I can’t imagine why... it’s not inhabited with many entertaining, funny, interesting people) he was anything but a backward glancer. He cared not for rehashed, post-game analysis, or even discussions of past productions. He was ever and already onto the next thing. “Way down the road”…John would say….”I’ve moved waaay past it” he would say to someone longwindedly contrite after an argument.<br><br>John liked and lived to move forward. <br><br>In the end, as I believe he was for most of his life, John was a realist. Albeit one with the intellectual and spiritual gifts enabling him to pull cheeky hope from the jaws of a most dire situation. John was a true romantic, an egoist (with one ’t’), but he did not frivolously romanticize, and I know that he cared for and about others very deeply. He respected those with heart, and he supported, encouraged, advocated for and so many times facilitated those who had something important to say. <br><br><br>Life was important, and it was important to John to make sure it stayed important. Dwelling, resenting or recounting the past was wasted time. He once said, “One day I’ll sit on a porch with my old chums and do the 'remember when’ thing. But for now I’m going to keep going." <br><br>We often talked about future projects—our own and others’. “We’ve always got potential”, he’d say…quickly, tersely…as smooth as John’s voice was, and as long as he may have taken in any discussion to formulate what he was about to say (you know, with his hands raised as if to say, ‘hold up…I’m devising the perfect most convincing way to make my point here’)…when he finally said it, he’d say it FAST. He was a fast talker. There was an autobahn of neurotic alacrity between his brain and his mouth. One would not delay the other. <br><br>John always had a lot on his mind, and not usually in a worrisome way. His brain was full, and so was his heart…and he was always happy and proud to give you generous pieces of both.<br><br>Bless his soul. <br><br> I hope and I pray (yes, regardless of one’s beliefs concerning demiurges and deities, I believe in that great collective energy of prayer…) at any rate, for it would make me feel better to know, that somewhere along the arduous and rutted road of John’s last journey that his brilliant mind, his gifts of wisdom, his talent for devising ways forward conspired to reward him with a clear discernible vision that made some sort of sense, offered solace, laid the warm hand of grace…calming him with the knowledge that it was alright to “move way past it”. <br><br>That it was OK to keep looking forward toward whatever is next. <br><br> John left us with so much to ponder, to enjoy, to carry and he inspired so many with so much. <br><br>Some of my favorite John sayings:<br><br>Remarking on digital manipulation of recorded performances:<br>This was intoned within the discussion of bars being ever lower, “It is now possible, to make a purse from a sow’s ear” <br><br>On Capital Punishment : “If you want someone dead, just be patient and you WILL get your wish.”<br><br>Missing a cue in the studio: “Sorry. I was hanging out like a kid at the 7-11 on that one.”<br><br>Relationships: “Even the best relationships are not always mutually rewarding. But all relationships must be rewarding enough to make you want to continue maintaining them.” <br><br>On touring, and spoken while sitting on opposable benches: “I love playing music, and I love all of you, don’t get me wrong…but I can think of lots of things I’d rather be doing than this right here.”<br><br>“Topiary Donkey with a Dick.”<br><br>Now for a famous jingle we'd never tire of recalling and reprising:<br><br>Bye for now!<br><br>THE SOFT SOFT DRINK<br><br>Milk’s the soft soft drink, it doesn’t burn foam or fizzle<br>Doesn't snap doesn’t sizzle when you want to wet your whistle<br>Its the soft soft drink that’s good for you it'll make your <br>Whole insides say ‘thanks’<br><br>Makes your teeth grow strong starts a belly celebration<br>And a muscle jubilation, people all across the nation<br>Drink the soft soft drink for a vitamin sensation<br>Drink the soft soft drink drink milk<br><br>Milk’s the…<br>soft soft drink it doesn’t shout about its flavor always on its best behavior<br>When its food you wanna savor<br>Its the soft soft drink that’s always been the favorites<br>It’s the soft soft drink drink milk! <br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNvD0YQjKSc/WDUR7fB8YdI/AAAAAAAABkQ/HDLSdBL1UfUtd-6rQWLiV-q3CDtrdxj_ACEw/s1600/John%2BJennings%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNvD0YQjKSc/WDUR7fB8YdI/AAAAAAAABkQ/HDLSdBL1UfUtd-6rQWLiV-q3CDtrdxj_ACEw/s1600/John%2BJennings%2B1.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h1qsHBFDAG0/WDUTfj8R1wI/AAAAAAAABkY/khnvZcpshlQO58TsawGj1GZX58YDZnJ1QCLcB/s1600/JC%2526JJplo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h1qsHBFDAG0/WDUTfj8R1wI/AAAAAAAABkY/khnvZcpshlQO58TsawGj1GZX58YDZnJ1QCLcB/s320/JC%2526JJplo.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="179" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693572015-06-27T12:47:00-04:002020-06-24T02:10:29-04:00On Public Discourse, Moral Re-examination, Offended Sensibilities, Court Rulings and Emblems of the Confederacy in Leesburg, Va<br><br><br>As Americans, as a Nation, we stand unified in our belief that each and all have the right to express their opinions proudly and openly, especially when doing so opens heretofore obscured pathways to a deeper understanding of our collective humanity during broad discourses such as these; vigorously reassessing an ever progressing and changing identity. <br><br>As a Democracy, we ideally look toward and rely upon a majority representation of our majority personality. There are many compelling forces in this broad “heritage” argument. I hear confidence and resolve from folks holding nearly sacred the recognition of those (especially our ancestors) who “died for their beliefs”. <br><br>As a native Virginian (Fredericksburg, Northern Virginia and until recently Leesburg) I'm proud of our multi-faceted history--rife with admirable and remarkable personalities manifest in myriad trajectories, often times in contradictory fashion. That any may have died "standing for something" doesn't automatically meet my personal standards for veneration. History is rife and rancid with all sorts of agents displaying hideous conviction.<br><br>Leesburg has indeed and repeatedly been a bed of revolutionary passion. Loudoun County earned the colloquial status of “Breadbasket of the Revolution” during that war, for its formidable agricultural support of the Continental Army as it feverishly fought to extricate its citizens from the demeaning and crippling clutches of a far-away and tyrannical regime.<br><br>The colonies—united—won that war. We became an officially independent nation, the United States of America. For months, years, decades and centuries we progressed as a young nation navigating, negotiating a brighter, fairer and ever more promising future for each and all. Relative to other "great” nations of the globe, we today still remain a young one.<br><br>No one can accurately predict when one established era's characteristic practices, social mores and moral standards will seemingly—suddenly—tumult into another with its laws, practices and traditions slightly more effectively reasonable, rational, righteous, enlightened and otherwise evolved. <br><br>The "War Between the States” was a bloody and divisive conflagration, when certain States within our unified nation attempted secession from the majority collective thus allowing themselves to adhere only to their own codes and economic methods, one of which is now clearly recognized as a cruel, demoralized practice, that of keeping and utilizing human beings as livestock. <br><br>It is fact that many of our honored “forefathers” were slave owners, but during all that while an ever flowing enlightenment was by degrees reaching many enough shores to gradually become a mainstream. Those cultures—multiple generations of them—slowly gave way to change much as a frightened uprooted child slowly learns that a new home can be better, even while holding the memory of the old home near.<br><br>Of course, acceptance moves and grows by degrees as well. It requires dialogue both external and internal. <br><br>Recently, in the wake of "rulings" (we've been inoculated to steel ourselves as a reaction to that word) it’s irrefutable that this slow conversion is requiring this conversation, even within the considered climate of many a jarred sensibility. Perhaps we’ve evolved to a farther point where all of these opinions, reactions and detractions can be civil (writ large), constructive, non-violent (literally and literately), and made (and heard!) with patiently open minds and compassionately open hearts. We are compelled to examine ourselves as private and public entities, and do so privately and publicly. <br><br>The comedian Jerry Seinfeld recently stated (perhaps within another context, perhaps not) that "pain (like stubbing your toe on the edge of furniture in the dark) is knowledge rushing in to fill a gap in knowledge. The pain is a lot of information really quick." In that sense, intransigence is our enemy, both as an end result and as a practice fostering more unpleasantness along the stubborn way.<br><br>As a unified Nation, we won the Revolutionary War. Later, as the Confederacy begrudgingly struggled to deny this union, they lost the Civil War, a long and ugly conflict whose legacy, by virtue of its origins of regional solipsism and nationalistic self-loathing, is one of which, as an American, I’m not proud. <br><br>But we move on and we change…little by little. Whether they be flags or statues, we hold on to icons and emblems as commemoration of history. Some have become somewhat perverted vestiges of our times and culture, even while they gaze back on those that are past. <br><br>On the one hand, we feel strongly that the Confederate facet of our region’s identity should be recognized and taught. On the other, its arguably most salient historical mantle is slavery--universally deplored. Any nod to icons standing for this cause of the Confederacy risks being perceived as approval even celebration.<br><br>I personally find it rude to question and argue others' clear reasons for taking a valid and expressed offense. The offended sensibilities of our fellow Americans, and Leesburg/Loudoun citizens (especially those of African ancestry) should be of paramount importance and utmost consideration. Even so, many may hear protests against the location of statues and such to be but from a weak-kneed chorus of politically correct whiners. <br><br>I say let the cognitive dissonance flow like a robust and widely drinkable wine. In vino veritas.Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693582015-06-09T12:10:00-04:002020-09-19T04:43:42-04:00Logan 3.12.15<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Logan 3.12.15</b></span><br><br><span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>Lithe, Lean, Slender<br>Nearly skinny<br>Minder rubber ‘round her wrist<br>Tine-like fingers quickly<br>Get to a banana<br>One, two, three strips divvy down<br>Disappear into rapid devour<br>All business<br><br>Sip, chew, sip<br>Paper cup not managing<br>Only but a peel<br>Where to conceal, the heel of a shoe?<br>Out of place, too small a space<br>Drape a perfect arch across the leather brief<br><br>Diamond ring, headlight lit<br>Promise just past the knuckle<br>Fiddle the wrapper of a breakfast bar<br>Barely two bites, she’s fed<br>Put it in the peel, on her case<br>At her feet<br><br>Perhaps this Spring she’ll stand<br>Speak vows and her words will float <br>On a haze of heartfelt devotion<br>He’ll think for a while<br>That she looks too thin</span><br><span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>They'll sort that out </span><br><span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>Like trash in a cup<br><br>Which attendant scoops and whisks away</span><br><span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>Leaving her perfect nails </span><br><span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>To start sifting through<br>Emblems and wee bits news on a wee screen<br>Back to my book, all business<br>And we’re all up and off to Miami</span><br><br> <span style='font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;'>~JC</span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693592014-08-19T01:31:00-04:002020-07-20T06:02:27-04:00The Carnage of Capitalism (with Comment)<div class="content">
<a href="http://www.nationofchange.org/carnage-capitalism-1408372121#comment-302218" target="_blank">THE CARNAGE OF CAPITALISM </a>(click for Article)<br><br>Comment:<br><br><br><div class="content">Stephen Kinzer's ("The Brothers") rather unsettling account of precedent setting patterns and policies established during and following World Wars 1 & 2 after several unabashed decades of corporate/government unholy allied practices in the name of "healthy commerce at all costs" accurately conveys how that dynamic paradigm was formulated, developed, implemented and yes, 'fostered' with post-war policies beginning with the Dulles brothers (Allen Foster and John Foster) and their dealings while in and out of the law firm of Sullivan & Cromwell and on into their positions as Secretary of State and CIA Director, respectively.<br><br>While much of their verified cronyism and back-room/insider dealing would be abjectly unlawful within many of today's revised legal parameters, they nevertheless set the tone of monied exceptionalism into the 30's, 40's and 50's and for decades to come.<br><br>Subsequently, in the late 70's and 80's when global finance, currency trading, bundled debt, leveraged stocks etc. became their own lucratively nascent and nepotistic industry--but one without any real manufactured product other than increased (or squandered) wealth itself--the proverbial mule was let kicking and sprinting out of the proverbial barn. The wild beast has begotten generations of legions which will be extremely difficult to discourage, round up or recall.<br><br>This manipulated wealth has become a colossal engine which drives everything from national elections to the mega-industries of medicine, education, correctional facilities (many now corporate run), bundled corporate run HOAs (existing nowhere near the neighborhoods of their concern) big pharma and its R&D, food, energy, resource policies, FOREIGN policy and operates hand in hand within a new normal that brazenly ignores--in fact proactively embarks upon the dismantling of--any codified humane consideration for our common welfare.<br><br>Other than vapid and hyperbolic image hawking for the benefit of consumer market eyes and ears, there seems to be little corporate recognition of future consequences or real regard for the imminent and irreversible environmental damage about to be forever leveled upon our planet. That we still must tolerate climate change deniers while the tipping points toward catastrophic events are becoming alarmingly nearer than ever anticipated is truly disturbing. It all but ensures with abrupt seriousness that these events must indeed come to occur before those voices that tout their mythic nature are considered ridiculous enough to be muted, and coordinated efforts shall become crucial for survival in the face of undeniably vivid developments. We shall scramble as best a threatened and terrified species is able.<br><br>Along with an ever increasingly smaller and insulated power peak, the classic democratic process is hobbled, evidenced strongly by the recent identity crisis within the Right's conservative big tent, as well as the recent inefficiency of the Left's no longer potent moral high ground. The hopes, dreams and plans of the common citizen are rendered adrift and at the mercy of the unmerciful with any plausible representation frozen as an amber bound gnat within long-term legislative paralysis.<br><br>Argue the political particulars if you must, but the optics of the final outcome will be quite out of our control.</div>
</div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693612013-02-05T21:11:00-05:002019-09-28T08:41:44-04:00JC Interview for CIYH.com<span style="background-color: #ffd966;"></span><br><a href="http://lrnblog.posterous.com/renewing-interview-jon-carroll" target="_blank"><span style='font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;'><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jon Carroll Interview with Concerts In Your Home</span></span></a><br><br><span style='font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;'><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><img src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/387878_10150407176628182_4252694_n.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="320" width="244" /><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></span></span><br><br><span style='font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;'><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c; font-style: italic;">Describe your most memorable house concert experience.</span><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Always a challenge, as there have been so many but, HEY…Memorable…right? Remarkable…yeah?</span></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> I recently played T.Edwin Doss and his wife Patricia’s Rocky’s Run House Concerts, which is a splendid venue right on Lake Anna which is just due SW of my boyhood town of Fredericksburg, Va.</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> My sets can, if the chemistry is just right, take on an interesting narrative arch, as various songs of mine are chipped off the mother lode vein of my own childhood and past experiences. Not all, but some of the major corner stones are, as most writers will attest.<span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Well, that particular night the faces filling my view from the stage became a miasma of familiar retrospect, as more than a few of my childhood buddies, the brother of an ex-girlfriend, and the parents of our best playmates from next door (they still live there!) all were there beaming, nodding and swaying to the beat. It was quite dreamlike, but also so jovially companionable due to their knowing of all the landmarks and characters that were mentioned, it was as if everyone was given a decoder ring at the door! </span></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>What's your best opening line? (from one of your songs, or one of your favorites)</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div>
<span style="font-size: small;">I LOVE great first lines. Folks comment frequently on the first lines of my song Land That Time Forgot, which are:</span><span style="font-size: small;"> “I’m an old man eating dinner somewhere in Wyoming<br>Got my false teeth working on a microwave medallion”</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> I was unsure of that line, the whole song really, until a fellow writer buddy of mine suggested I try putting it all in the first person, which made all the difference, for it as a song and as something to sing. I thank him every time I see him.</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> First line by other…Paul Simon:<br>“We were married on a rainy day. The sky was yellow and the grass was grey<br>We signed the papers and we drove away. I do it for your love”</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> Sorry for the bleak themes…I’m not mainly that way…but I do love the images and the setups, though…!</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> OK….”I may go out tomorrow if I can borrow a coat to wear Oh, I'd step out in style with my sincere smile and my dancing bear”—Randy Newman (I feel better, now..you?)</span>
</div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>What song is most likely to make you cry? (if you were the crying kind)</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br><div><span style="color: black;">I’m very much the crying kind and that fact proves to be a challenge, since singing and becoming overcome and blubbery are a nasty combination. There are different songs that can/will do that. Leonard Cohen’s Suzanne: …“They are leaning out for love, and they’ll lean that way forever” or his Song of Bernadette…Joni’s Case Of You… There have been a few embarrassing moments (unnoticed by others, I pray) during Mary Chapin Carpenter’s shows (I’ve played with her for decades now) when it gets a bit difficult to see the keys. Amazing writing will move you as it should.<br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>How many miles did you drive last year?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Jeez, including tourbus…not fair…but scads. I drive a lot, too and I’d say roughly 9,000 miles. I do my solo shows plus mini-tours with other folks such as Eric Lindell and Peter Wolf. Sessions in other cities…adds up.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>What is your favorite thing about house concerts?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">The wondrous, unified and collective experience. I’m not one to put things in between me and my audience. Not alcohol, drugs etc. And the intimacy that proximity brings can be extremely powerful. The mutual respect and understanding in a tuned in room can really dissolve many of those classic barriers that come with the standard mise en scene. It really becomes less of a set or tableau piece, and more of an exciting adventurous dance. A real collaboration!</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><i>If you could no longer sell your music on CD, what would you do differently?</i><br>I would record each show and burn USB wristlets sold cheaply on the way out. Plus including a code for downloading something current and exclusive.</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>When is the last time someone critiqued your song, suggested a way to make it better, and you agreed?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div>
<span style="font-size: small;">That’s an interesting question that makes more sense than what some might think. I’ve worked on several stage plays, and cowrote some musicals, and the staged readings are a valuable resource as the audience, as well as the actors reading/playing the roles, weighs in after with opinions, sharing responses, and offering suggestions. I find that performing songs brings another initial response from the listener, and their sharing of that response includes some nuanced but none too oblique messages within that the writer can pick up on. How a fan even refers to the song can be quite telling. Sometimes, in the course of a conversation, it becomes clear whether the person got the hook, or maybe missed it altogether. Some folks remember the scenery along the way, with the destination not being all that important. So be it.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> The response of an audience in real time is the thing that turn the most knobs for me as a writer. A song that you’ve honed and fashioned for tortuous hours can become altogether a different beast once your performing it in front of an audience. The universe changes in performance, and, in that manner, the audience is constantly and covertly critiquing and making suggestions. I do enjoy post-show talkback sessions, though. In the theater, they can be quite valuable. After a house concert set, there’s usually a chance for that sort of give and take. It also gives people a chance to ask about Afternoon Delight.</span>
</div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Have you ever watched yourself do a full concert on video? If so, what did you learn?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">Many times. The overall kneejerk reaction is to slow down, and that’s usually a correct move. I have a lot of energy when I perform, and some of my songs have a rhythmic pulse that, as a piano or guitar player having a drummer laying down the tempo will help to relax. Having someone riding shotgun, so to speak. In a solo situation, taking a deep breath and centering is always a good idea. As long as I’ve done this, it’s still an important part of the warm-up ritual, that is, settling down!</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Is there anyone you like to go to for songwriting help or advice? If so, who?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Wow. I usually turn to great literary writers: Bellows, Malamud, Fitzgerald, Munro, Amis, Welty, Trevor, Greene, Conrad, Mortimer, Banks, Singer…any writer who writes like a writer. There are a lot of mundane lyrics out there, and to be fair, the way words, melody, rhythm and scan juxtapose in song makes it a different carnival ride altogether. The great songwriters that float my boat, Van Zandt, Cohen, Crowell, Mitchell, MacMurtry, Carpenter, Webb, Newman, Waits & countless others…tend to have one thing in common: they transport the listener. Music and song have a power that great film has, that is to create a story universe outside of the here and now.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> If I’m stuck, it’s usually because I’m unsure about what I’m actually wanting to say, not on how to say it.</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> Don’t get me wrong, I’m not above throwing out a lifeline, but that usually happens when sitting there collaborating on a song with others. Honestly, I’m not one to call up another writer and yell help. I don’t think it’s pride, I just figure that they’re busy enough with their own damn songs!</span>
</div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><i>What is the best stage name of all time?</i><br>I dunno, how about Tom Jones? Liberace was pretty cool. Elvis Costello hits on multiple cylinders. Boris Karloff. Karla Bonoff. Tommy Tune. Iggy Pop. I still want to know how The Edge gets called to the counter at the DMV.</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Car you drive vs the car you'd most like to drive</i>.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">Honda Odyssey Van vs nice RV towing a coupla V-Twin cycles.</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>What percentage of your songs are about love relationships?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">30</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>You can bring back any dead artist, and be their apprentice for a month, who do you choose?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Toss-up between John’s Lennon and Mercer, with the deal being they stay alive after the month’s up. Even if working with me kills ‘em. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><i>You can recruit anyone in the world to manage your artistic career, who is it?</i><br>The Tom Hanks character in <i>That Thing You Do</i>.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>You can work with any living record producer. Who do you choose for your next project?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Tough one, but I suppose Phil Ramone, but I did already…but I was 18. No fair. He was one of those producers though, who was so very very musical and creative, that the players played and the singers sang extra special great on his sessions. One of the most respected and accomplished producers of our time.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>You must personally destroy every instrument you own, except one. Which do you keep? Which do you destroy first/last, and why?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">Not to take the cheap high road less than loquacious way out, but I don’t want to destroy anything, much less something that brings joy. I have separation anxiety. I get misty when checking out of a room I’ve had for three days on a tour. I still have my first drumset, my piano has been mine since 1977, my Wurlitzer Electric since 76, I won’t get rid of my Roland Juno 60, get the picture? Now, I’m sure other folks around me might have a hierarchy of plans. I think I’ve even heard them plotting deep into the whispery night.</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Top item on your bucket list.</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Seeing the Bosphorus Strait. It’s been an elusive dream.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Cat, dog, or goldfish?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Are you kidding? I tour. But I love it when there’s a dog around, even on the bus. I once slept with a Golden Retriever. Perils of the bottom bunk!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><br></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Writing retreat. You can go anywhere in the world for 2 weeks, where do you go? One instrument, one suitcase - what do you bring?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;">You’d think I’d might have already gotten around to this, but the Northern Neck of Virginia feels like the floor of my soul to me. For some reason, I’ve always been attracted to those little square office compartments at the top of grain elevators and mills, too. Just a typewriter will do. Loved that Alex Haley would book passage on tankers and merchant marine vessels to write. That’s the idea!</span></div><div></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span> <br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;"><i>Plan B, or no Plan B?</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Been doing this too long, it contains multitudes and it’s always brought new gifts and new incarnations of more Plan A, eh? </span></span></div><br><span style='font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;'><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span> </span></span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693622012-11-27T18:20:00-05:002016-01-02T21:31:19-05:00Letter to Lawmakers--Pandora Bill<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> 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Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style><![endif]--> <br><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; margin-left: 297.65pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Jonathan Carroll<br>_____________</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; margin-left: 297.65pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>_____________</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; margin-left: 297.65pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>November 26, 2012</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>The Honorable Mark Warner<br>United States Senate<br>475 Russell Senate Office Building<br>Washington, DC 20510‑4601</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>The Honorable Jim Webb<br>United States Senate<br>248 Russell Senate Office Building<br>Washington, DC 20510‑4604</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>The Honorable Frank R. Wolf<br>House of Representatives<br>241 Cannon House Office Building<br>Washington, DC 20515‑4610</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Re: Oppose the "Pandora Bailout Bill"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I am a lifelong musician, artist and writer/composer and have had personal experience with the issues stated below which have direct import into the legislation in question below.<br><br>I have lobbied for fairness in the Broadcast Performance Royalty legislation, and, like all else like me, have been beat to the punch in your offices by the profoundly well-funded NAB, which preempted many of the efforts by front loading many inaccurate and misrepresenting scenarios, hoping to shift the focus --and culpability--from broadcasters to the labels themselves, even to the songwriters, who happen to have a much fairer deal historically, even citing only the most profoundly successful acts (a very small percentage even in the industry’s heyday) whose names are recognizable enough for them to be salient spokespersons for this cause, as greedy, spoiled and Pollyannaish.<br><br>Recently there have been deals made between some new labels (with already successful acts who are enjoying high sales and exposure via many new delivery systems, such as Pandora) which falsely cite "parity" as the end all justification for lower rates. In reality these lower rates HAVE NEVER been fair or justified. The new digital services, such as Pandora who launched in 2003 and formed, developed and tweaked its business model with a library supplied FOR FREE by label and non-label and artists alike, before starting to pay the MINIMAL fees only within the last few years. <br><br>These recent arrangements are unique deals by companies that can uniquely benefit from them as they have a large digital presence, not a template for universal extension to all broadcasters. <br><br>Since Napster woke the industry up in the 90's--too late, I might add---many within the industry have been scrambling to catch up since the new paradigm has been established, with all its ever-changing shifts and adjustments with the status quo. If you look at the % drop in music sales during the last 15 years, you will see the decimation of a once healthy and thriving music industry brought about by its tardy response to the digital revolution. <br><br>But please consider the fact we had just recently become encouraged that there could be a final legislative resolution for Broadcast Performance Royalties after a much much longer period of time<br>during which the United States enjoyed the dubious company of Qatar, North Korea, Rwanda and China as countries who HAVE NEVER paid fees for terrestrial broadcast performances.<br><br><br>I write to express my strong opposition to the so-called "Internet Radio Fairness Act" (H.R. 6480/S. 3609) and to ask you not to cosponsor the bill. If the bill comes up for a vote, I urge you to vote NO.<br><br>Pandora and broadcasters support this bill, claiming that fairness and parity are needed. But the bill ignores the greatest inequity in music compensation -- the lack of a performance right to compensate performers when their songs are played on terrestrial radio.<br><br>And the bill isn't fair to the creators of music whose work makes up the content of Internet radio. This bill would slash payments to artists by hundreds of millions of dollars. Under current law, artists and music creators receive from Pandora payments for the use of their performances based on a fair market, "willing buyer, willing seller" standard. Pandora's special interest bill would slash those payments to a below market, government-mandated subsidy rate. With the music business shrinking to half the size it was ten years ago, working class musicians wait for these royalty checks every quarter to help make ends meet.<br><br>Despite crying poor to Congress, Pandora is expected to clear more than $600 million in revenues next year, and is valued at more than $1.5 billion. This isn't about fairness, it's about lining stockholders' pockets. Musicians should not be deprived of the income that they deserve to subsidize Internet radio.<br><br>Congress shouldn't pick winners and losers on the Internet, and shouldn't force artists and music creators to pad Pandora's wallet. <br><br>Historically, recording artists have already the deck enedemically stacked against them.<br><br>This bill is a giveaway to Pandora and I urge you to oppose it.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 28.35pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Dear Senator Warner:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>I am writing to express my strong opposition to the so‑called "Internet Radio Fairness Act" (H.R. 6480/S. 3609). I urge you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not to cosponsor this bill and to vote "NO" if the bill is brought up for a vote.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Although this bill claims to be about fairness, in reality it is nothing more than a bailout for Pandora to increase shareholder profits by taking money away from artists and music creators. Under the law, Pandora and other Internet radio services must pay a statutory royalty rate that represents the fair market value of the music they use to build their businesses. The "Internet Radio Fairness Act" would cut the royalty standard to a below market rate that amounts to a government‑mandated subsidy. Music creators will be paid less while corporate shareholders are paid more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Pandora's estimated value is over $1.8 billion. It can afford to fairly compensate the hard‑working artists and professionals who make a living by creating music. Instead of providing another bailout for big business, Congress should provide real radio parity by requiring terrestrial broadcast radio to compensate music creators just as Internet, satellite and cable radio services do.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 14.15pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Please oppose the "Internet Radio Fairness Act." There's nothing fair about robbing music creators to pay for Pandora's profits.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 56.7pt; margin-left: 212.6pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 7.1pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; page-break-after: avoid; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Sincerely,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 212.6pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;'>Jonathan Carroll </span></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693632012-07-25T18:42:00-04:002018-03-04T16:40:21-05:00Minstrels<br><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WJhlUOntl9Q/UBB2FZTyntI/AAAAAAAAAUM/dFX-ZIoin8c/s1600/smokey+spotlight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="//3.bp.blogspot.com/-WJhlUOntl9Q/UBB2FZTyntI/AAAAAAAAAUM/dFX-ZIoin8c/s320/smokey+spotlight.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="320" width="213" /></a></div><br><div class="MsoNormal"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">MINSTREL DESTINATIONS 1961-1968</b>
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Our house stood in a neighborhood directly across the Rappahannock River from Fredericksburg in Falmouth,Virginia. Although all the while retaining much of its core identity, Fredericksburg and its surrounding area have since expanded into and become part of the southern exurbs of Washington D.C. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">But in the 1960’s it was a Southern town, not so plain and simple. If local eyes, hearts or souls sought nearby city lights, they turned South toward Richmond.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I was 4 years old when my family (older brother and sister…yep) placed me into the annual Kiwanis Club talent show in 1961. They felt that my rendition of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mama’s Little Baby Loves Shortnin’ Bread</i> had potential. I don’t remember learning it or who taught it, but I knew it well enough to tap, snap and sing it, all to the beaming amusement of the tall ones. Nor did I grasp the meaning lurking within its repetitive rhymes:<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“two little babies ---lying in the bed—one was sick and the other one, dead” </i>verse. I liked singing them. The song was funny. Folks laughed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">The try-outs took place in the booming wooden auditorium of Maury School, an aging mainstay in the heart of downtown Fredericksburg. The late afternoon sun poured down from high windows through the municipal dust while hopeful youngsters sat in or scurried about the rows of theater seats. Jugglers, dancers, singers, plate spinners, card flashers, baton twirlers, joke tellers and trick mongers each awaited their turn to step up onstage for their shot at being in the annual show. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">One contestant was a girl who was bigger and older than me--7 years old, I thought. I sat silently and spellbound beside my older Brother as she sang “Yellow Bird”. There on the stage, she stood starkly and stiff, with barely moving but slightly trembling blond braids, blue jeans and white sneakers and holding a painted wooden bird on a stick before her, carefully and softly reciting in a shaky voice the lyrics which her darting eyes scanned from its back.<br><br>Several times she started then stopped then started , <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yellllow Biiiird Up high in banana treeee<br>Yellllow Biiiird You sit… all…alone…like me… </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </span><br><br><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">On the third or fourth try, she made it to the end and the judges </span>were gently reassuring as she was led offstage by her mother. I was glad to see her utter relief that it was over.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Soon we heard my name called and I slid off the theater seat, looked to my brother who said something like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“go on, Jon…just like at home…it’ll be great” </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">which </span>shored me up enough to launch into my bit without too much fuss.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">To this day I still feel that original pang of “this is the real thing” jitters after rehearsals in a well lit room give way to the dress rehearsal onstage and opening night in front of audience whose anticipations cannot be known. It was they who were now upright and attentative in those theater seats, judging from the dark night instead of ushering us through a sunny afternoon.<br><br>All performers sat on bleachers in a remotely stark and echoing sodium lit gymnasium in the bowels of the school. Waiting for their names be called when they would then proceed, three by three, toward the world which waited in their near untold future. I held my brother’s hand as he led me down long locker-lined hallways around and through various realms of the school's daytime life, quietly moving toward my moment of truth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">We scaled one last steep stairway leading up to a lady who smiled and “shushed” us as we rounded the corner, stepped through a door and found ourselves gazing from the offstage shadows onto the spotlit stage.<br>
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There before us, with two bows in her braided hair, a frilly dress and slightly nuzzling in shyness into the pleated curtains gathered before her, stood the Yellow Bird girl. Her shiny patent leather shoes made short brittle scraping noises against the hard floor as she fidgeted.<br><br>We arrived just as the emcee's ominously amplified voice announced her name. From around the corner where we couldn’t see came the roaring applause of the roomful as she inhaled slowly then stepped out and crossed toward the lone glinting microphone stand. The clapping scattered and ebbed to silence as the girl stopped and stood facing them, holding the wooden bird on a stick. She and it were still, rigid and silent. She glanced down and squinted at the back of the bird, turning it around then around again, her neck gradually craning forward and toward the indistinct and impermeable black silhouette created by the giant spotlight.<br><br>With a quivering voice she started to sing, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yelllow Bird…high up in banana treeeee</i>….</div><div class="MsoNormal">She trembled through four lines before sputtering to a halt. Still trying to make out the written words there cloaked in shadow she began again, stamped one shiny shoe, then restarted, then gasped while lowering and raising the stick in desperation, holding it at arms length with both hands for one last try. Letting loose a tearful yelp before turning on her hard heels, she ran as if being chased directly toward where we stood in the wings.<br><br>My brother quickly stepped aside letting her blow past and we could hear her sobs echoing away down the stairwell while the man onstage uttered something jovial to the <i>awws</i> of sympathy and warm complicit applause.<br><br>I had never been that near to such panic and anguish, and it all happened moments before I heard my name called. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t worry about it, Jon..remember, just like at home…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t remember much more about that night, other than the invisible roar of the audience, the blinding glare of the super trooper spotlight which cloaked the seated crowd into a penumbra of anonymity. But I heard my family comments of how I must have just been nervous, etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">It was next year, 1962 when I would sit in that same dark auditorium as an audience member to see the Lion’s Club Minstrels. My father explained to me that there were no winners or losers and that it was a variety show, and he and our mom would be singing and dancing a romantic duet. We had heard them at home practicing at the piano once or twice, a show tune from My Fair Lady, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">On The Street Where You Live</i> it probably was.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">My mother became ill and my dad would have to do the number with the alternate, which only made it more of an episode for her. There was arguing and accusations. It was a pattern, and the same drama would occur again the next year.<br>
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the Mistrel Show, as it was known, was a lively celebration with many varied numbers, each of which were enjoyable for a 5 year old, especially the vaudeville type bits. One such routine sported a group of 6 or 7 men bursting onstage in clownish suits of polka dots, wide stripes and bowler hats while cavorting and careening all about the stage crowing jokes and doing stunts. They shouted and guffawed in exaggerated Amos and Andy accents with their faces each painted black as a moonless midnight.<br><br>The audience roared with laughter, and I watched with glee as they volleyed risqué punch lines, poked each other and carried on like that for 5 minutes or so. One bit involved pushing a hen’s egg across the stage with a broom. I've never heard that one explained. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, after overhearing their arguing about last night’s show, I mentioned the blackface men to my parents. It seemed to be the centerpiece highlight of the show. My father responded by brusquely mumbling, that it probably had been the last time for that act to appear, and that was also probably a good thing. He said sternly that it wasn’t nice to make fun of colored people that way, and that lots of folks had been upset about it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Another year passed and it was again time for the Lions Club Minstrels Show. Mom and Dad rehearsed, mom got sick, dad did the number with another lady and there were jealous arguments before and after the show. I recalled the black face minstrel men, and my father’s remarks a year earlier. He once more uttered something about their not doing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">black face</i> anymore.<br>
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The opening number of the show that year was again jovial, rousing and as harmonious as only grown-up singers and performers can deliver. The solos, duets and dance routines were met with rousing hometown appreciation. Intermission came, and I was wondering what would be the central “funny” bit, as I was already impatient to see it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Back in our seats, we waited as the lights went down. A fat moment of silence was pierced by the wailing siren announcing the clown men who emerged in their flapping tails, bright scarves and bow ties, top hats and bowlers. They scurried and crowed, howled and hammed while the audience reeled with delight. I was only 6, but I knew that what I saw was something sad, silly and very, very wrong. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">My Dad was right and so were the other good folks who had raised their concern about the men with the black grease painted faces. Those folks who wanted to keep the act in the show decided on the only thing that they felt would make everyone happy: They painted their faces white.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">A few years later I was entered into another Kiwanis Club Talent Show. I played piano--a Clementi Sonatina which was abruptly followed by an “original” boogie woogie composition. The crowd liked it, and I won the $25 first prize in the Elementary Division and used it to buy my first guitar at Bill Ross’ Music store, where I spent a lot of my after school afternoons and Saturdays. Mr. Ross was a pretty stiff lipped fellow most of the time, and it felt good to see his faint smile as we made the deal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">After that year's show dress rehearsal, I was waiting in front of a closed store across the street from the school near a pay phone where I’d called my mom to come and fetch me. The late afternoon sun had sunk and the street corner was falling into early nighttime. A group of neighborhood kids was walking down the sidewalk toward me. As they came closer I heard their laughter turn to whispers, and one of the three came up to me and asked for money. One of the other kids started patting my pockets hard then harder, and the others began shouting until the first piped up and said to stop because I was “the boogie woogie boy”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">My dad was gone two years later when I served up the same Sonatina/Boogie Woogie formula for that talent show. He had already been around for the first time, though. It was pretty much the same deal too, except that I was now 12 and old enough to win the Grand Prize: a trophy and another 25 bucks, I think. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">My big sister had taken me to those try-outs where there was a black kid whose act was singing along with Otis Redding’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dock of the Bay</i>. I wondered if he might have been one of the kids from last year’s phone booth convergence.<br><br>I loved that Otis record. The kid snapped his fingers, tapped his feet and sang it like he felt right at home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">One day that summer I was in the kitchen singing along with the radio playing Aretha Franklin’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Respect</i> and my mom asked me to turn it down because she thought those records “sounded like angry colored girls shouting at someone”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">But later that year, we would sit at the kitchen counter and listen silently to the radio until the very last note of Brook Benton’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Rainy Night In Georgia </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was done </span>flowing past. My mother looked at me with an accepting distance in her eyes and said “you know what? That was a really great vocal performance”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">A year to the day after my father died, our next door neighbors took me with them to the second annual Smithsonian Festival of American Folklife on the Mall in Washington D.C. The live concert that night was to be Muddy Waters as well as the Chambers Brothers. The field was packed with folks of all shapes and colors, and I had not heard or seen anything like the sounds and sights of that night. Muddy’s slide guitar came straight from the heart of someone’s holy heaven and hell, and the Chambers Brothers’ voices weaved around and pounced upon the beats like a funky orchestra. They moved forward and toward the crowd while wearing brightly colored double breasted suits and proud floppy wide brimmed hats. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One singer danced to the edge of the stage, then sat down on its edge. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Has Come Today…!</i>
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Like most childhoods, mine flew by like a bittersweet breeze in Summer. My adulthood allows me to stand and look back on those few years from Boo Radley's porch, if you will, and appreciate the social changes that were happening above, beyond and all around me. I can still hear my father’s and my mother’s voices like so many other sounds that continue to echo down a long hall, and I think about the Yellow Bird girl more often than I probably should. And when asked an honest question by a child--questions such as why is that wrong? and why not?--I also think carefully before uttering my answer. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">~JC</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693642012-04-21T13:31:00-04:002021-04-21T12:33:06-04:00LEVON<span style="background-color: #f6b26b;"></span><br><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"></span>LEVON</b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">There seems to be every sort of bullshit in every business—especially show business—and Levon Helm seemed to cut right through each and all.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Great and Powerful Levon Helm </span></td>
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</tbody></table><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was the autumn of '69, and I was an eleven year old kid just starting to play in bands in Fredericksburg, Va., when the elastic funk of that wah-wah clavinet first bounced out the radio announcing the arrival of the train that would take us <a href="http://youtu.be/wLCmxMrgfDA" target="_blank"><i>Up On Cripple Creek</i></a>. The conductor called us on board with a sonorous Arkans-drawl, and the country collectively and gladly boarded. The beat was brawny and adult, the tale was told proudly with each syllable making every stop through the ululating pipes until it was laid before us all, resolute and unashamed. It was news: the sound, the message and the manner and everything but shy. It teemed with spirited energy while relaxed and playful. It was delivered plainly, self-assuredly and directly without being the least bit harsh, hostile or aggressive.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I now realize that what we were then listening to was a man presenting his heart and soul entirely with every word, every beat. The whole honest deal swirled before you, or rather sat in the saddle of celebration while digging in with the sophistication of the lived-in ages, crookedly smacking each rimshot, twisting his torso toward the thing that was undoubtedly the truth: the only prize worth clamoring for instinctively, relentlessly-- the thing worthy of stumbling toward like a fool, if need be.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Levon Helm was known for crowing about what’s worth crowing about. He was able to do precisely that for a long time, but we wish it were for much longer. Wisdom seemed to have been born with him. He had that wonderful duality, at once the tenured wise beyond his years teenager and the old-timer with the rough and rowdy heart of foolish youth. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I’ve been fortunate to have performed with more than a few talented folks over the years (dumb-luckier than a chance spied evening meteor to have played with the man himself on a few occasions), and I’ve mostly endeavored, by his inspiration, to try and put the utmost heart and commitment into every note of each performance –enough so that there may be no doubt that I’m “all the way in”. It’s an ambitious and hopeful touchstone of an approach, and not always a successful one, but it hearing and seeing Levon that showed me that if you stood </span><span style="font-size: small;">in the ring </span><span style="font-size: small;">squarely </span><span style="font-size: small;">on both feet</span><span style="font-size: small;">, looked the song in the eye, and brought your soul to its statement with total conviction, that the inarguable truth could be willed out. Damn—how could anyone up there get away with “phoning it in” while <i>that</i> dude was singing and playing? I dunno, is how. </span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;">I've heard and seen Levon more times than I can count: of course with The Band as well as his other numerous projects (Levon and The Cate Brothers in the 80's was always a must) right up until last year. And during all that time, I neither heard, felt nor otherwise witnessed from him one false or halfhearted note or moment. I choose to believe there were none.</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">That‘s not to say that Levon was the guy to reel in a breakdown, stifle the giddy, wag a finger, be a whip-cracker, task-master or buzz-killer in a studio or stage setting. In fact, in the few times I remember, the contrary was the case. Although listening to him tell the tales from his early and then long career, or reading stories from his book, one might be sobered to learn that the glorious music was the end to the means, and up until, around and after that fact, there was much banality and pesky no-nonsense scenes to be seen to by those with level country heads such as his. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">But, before and after all, what is (good) music if not total joy, and what is a show, a gig or a session if not a great hang with other musicians? I was blessed to be able to hang out and be joyful with Levon on several occasions, mainly and thankfully due to my friend and brilliant songwriter Emory Joseph having hired me on, along with a few other longtime band-mates and buds Duke Levine, Dave Mattacks, Kevin Barry and the late great T-Bone Wolk for his recording sessions for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Labor-Spirits-Emory-Joseph/dp/B000087DSH" target="_blank"><i>Labor and Spirits</i></a>, and to later perform a few years ago at Levon’s notorious Midnight Ramble house concert in Woodstock.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">At the Ramble (I was playing keys with Emory, Steve Holly, Andy York & T-Bone for an opening set by Emory doing tunes from his Robert Hunter collection <i><a href="http://youtu.be/4CjbHfGXW9g">Fennario</a>, </i>and<i> </i>his original<i> <a href="http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/emoryjoseph">Labor & Spirits</a></i>), it was figuratively and literally a Thanksgiving celebration, but that night Levon contributed his spirit exclusively at the drum set as per doctors’ instructions, saving his voice for a more mended and fit to crow day, which indeed would arrive after that and several other subsequent healing hiatuses. </span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;">The Ramble’s stage/studio/barn/playhouse was packed with fans, friends and family, and the stage was full of brilliant players and singers—revel truly rocked the hills--while Levon beamed and walloped with the zeal of a god, exuberant as any man is allowed to be in this world—perhaps enjoying the tribal celebration and his venerated spot at its center for what it was: a cultural phenomenon to be savored and cherished then and there within the moment that would, like all others, come to be no more as quickly as it’s noticed. </span>
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">After our set I sat on a radiator within yards of the widely grinning man in the starched collared shirt, wearing the short gloves that held the sticks so deftly, at times recklessly, passionately drilling home the deliberate but wiley ride cymbal, ballistic and balanced about the toms with each fill tumbling rebirth into another verse or refrain. It was truly a wonder and a one-time thrill. All eyes were on him, and all gazes were glad and good. All hearts were soaring and it was as if he had the lot of us on his knee, children giddy-upping along on the whoop-whipping ride of our lives.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The recording sessions years earlier were yet another story to tell.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had been on a few shows along with Levon, who performed on-- and was the voice for--a television series in the 90’s called The Road. I was participating as a band member with Mary Chapin Carpenter and Rodney Crowell. There were some roll-out shows at Opryland in Nashville, and I remember Levon--bearded and leading with his toothy smile and aviator shades, his lithe and seemingly frail frame swimming deep within a coordinated warm-up suit. He sported the endearing charisma of the bad-ass who could never escape the sincerity that would always prohibit him from coming off as flippant, rude or lofty. Levon seemed to me real, and a real good and cool cat.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Years later, in ‘98, at Longview Studios, a converted 1919 dairy farm in rural Massachusetts, Levon would arrive with a couple of his own closest friends to join us for a day of tracking on Emory’s <a href="http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/emoryjoseph">Labor & Spirits</a> record. He bounded amiably in, proceeded to make himself--and thereby all else there—comfortable and relaxed. Proceeding to wield and prepare organic substances he jovially credited with his remission from throat cancer, it was perhaps the pervasive nature of such a smoky realm that transformed the day into one of the most guffaw-filled, fun house rides that I’ve ever survived.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The day was summer sunny, hot and humid, dusty and buggy. I recall his remark that this was “heat that’ll follow you into the shade”, among many other stories, tales and asides. I must include the image of Funk legend Bernie Worrell who aimlessly ambled into our studio, having nothing to do while his sessions in the nearby larger barn studio were suspended due to a death in the family of one of the crew. I’ll forever kick myself for not taking a picture of Bernie wearing his tee shirt, head wrapped in a bright blue bandana, tenuously and daintily tooting notes on my new (to him) penny whistle. Bernie Worrell playing a penny whistle. Think about it. </span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;">Back to the sessions.</span>
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was decided that it wouldn’t be too insane to set up two drum kits, each facing the other, at which Levon and Dave Mattacks could respectively concoct a tandem groove. It came together like a sideways train on a sky bound track. Those familiar with the artistry and angles of Dave Mattacks can possibly imagine the resulting delight that was those two percussive worlds colluding. You can hear it on Emory Joseph’s <i>Family Dog</i>…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Much music, mirth and magic was made that day, and it all now exists forever, along with some extemporaneous outtakes that Emory was foolishly wise enough to include in the final master.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was then time to lay down some background vocals on a few tunes <i>(Rhum and Coffee </i>and<i> Family Dog) </i>the first song written for and dedicated to the great Guy Clark. It’s a bouncy, rollicking proclamation and celebration of recipes promoting poetry and the autonomy of personal choices. That’s my read, at any rate. The second is a first-dog description of the canine ethos that you by now may have heard.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We all gathered around one microphone with Emory, T-Bone & Levon, whose hoarse voice was neither a disclaimer nor a discouragement. Once we were done clowning and were underway, every note from his challenged pipes was pure and perfectly pitched, a singer's singer in any circumstance.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Until then though, it was pretty much of a riot. I won’t delve way into it here, but suffice to say that a good joke is worth developing for as long as it promises to be funny, and Levon's efforts wouldn’t end until all was explored. </span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;">To this day, it’s one of my personal all-time favorite outtake bits, and I wish I’d had the chance to laugh to it all over again with him. </span>
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I like to call it <i><a href="http://snd.sc/HVF4OZ">Duckboy and The Day Visitors</a></i></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(careful...intentionally offensive language) </i></span>
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This past few days since Levon’s exit from this world have been like that tough dream you must muddle through until you eventually awaken. You’d rather not be within it, but it’s too late now. It’s hard to peg this feeling, because it’s hard to tag the man, the artist, the voice, the legend. Every note he sang, strummed, picked or played was the whole picture: the picture with which Levon Helm was wholly familiar: the way of the world. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">There’s no doubt that The Band was one of music’s most influential forces, and even as an eleven year old, it was clear to me as I listened to other songs that were somehow too real, too honest and too important to become hits you heard on the radio repeatedly alongside Frankie Vallie, The Grassroots, Buckinghams, Monkees or--you get the picture—that these guys weren’t merely <i>onto</i> something that was special like a new sonic discovery or genre recipe. Instead they were continuing, developing and adding to a mountain of heart, soul and song that, without these responsible sentinels minding the other careless kids who were whistling through the candy store, might very well be whittled and weathered down to whispered ephemera. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Theirs was a stewardship of almost holy proportion. Merely to illustrate the point further: <i>The Night They Drove Old’ Dixie Down</i> was the B-side of their<i> </i>sole<i> </i>top 40 hit<i> Cripple Creek</i> in ‘69. That was and is the prevailing “wisdom” of commercial radio. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">As a band, the group contained profound multitudes, as any great band must. Multi instrumentalists, gifted storytelling and lyricism, <a href="http://youtu.be/MuTzrBbT7B8" target="_blank">singular and combined vocal magic</a> made them distinctive, almost mystical. Danko’s frantically wavering tenor barely able to contain itself, Richard Manuel’s father time confessor of pain and purity, sincere energy from a darker place that maybe only he and Ray Charles could see—Robbie Robertson’s perfectly placed strums and licks economically serving those brilliant songs while he added vocal element X to the harmonies. And all that dressed up and launched heavenward by the illustrious operatic orchestrations of Garth Hudson's keys and reeds. Also, like any great ensemble, the sum of it all became one glorious sound, not to be easily analyzed or deconstructed, but accepted and appreciated like a golden rising moon.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">But its front man ambassador, pilot, admiral, spokesman, non-apologetic and all encompassing personae that stood undeniably on the shoulders of the sturdiest and oldest truths of our earthly clan here, was the scruffy rascal that knew how to put it across. He wasn’t slick or jive or posing or primping. He was a <a href="http://youtu.be/4cnAfSsk2wc" target="_blank">truth-teller</a> with gusto, a crusader with class, and the clarion call for all to not be afraid, have a REAL good time, do a good job and tell it like it is.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">He was what making music and being alive IS all about. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wow—a jewel is gone. Let all shine on.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">~JC</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693652012-02-15T11:22:00-05:002020-11-25T06:22:12-05:00To Folks Who Condemn Addicts on Moral Grounds<span class="echo-item-text">There is a fatal disease called drug addiction. Millions of people have it, and millions seek help --many working hard enough and being blessed enough to begin successful recovery. <br><br>Many are unsuccessful. <br><br>Many people who battle this addiction (some prefer to call "demons") have creativity, artist expression and beauty as their raisin d'etre. The fact that as show-biz celebrities and "stars" they are venerated and awarded with financial success (extremely--Whitney was truly one of the greatest singers of all time in that world, if these detractors are capable of appreciating), is often fleeting as is most else when the disease is unrelenting and defeating. It's reported that Whitney Houston was financially--and I suspect also physically and spiritually-- bankrupt.</span><br><br><span class="echo-item-text"> It is an insidious disease. It's cunning and baffling. Look it up. <br><br>Many here and elsewhere are quick to condemn addicts on moral grounds which is brazenly naive, utterly ignorant. There are some who are offended by an outpouring of sympathy, grief, appreciation and adulation for an artist or personality who meets an untimely end which they consider self-inflicted. I cringe at and recoil from those relatively talentless and much less than admirable personalities whom we collectively hoist to the pedestal. <br><br>But we should better mind and consider that this disease discriminates even less. It doesn't discriminate at all. </span><br><span class="echo-item-text"><br>With all that considered, addiction and self-destructive behavior, albeit collaterally pervasive for the family, friends and associates of the sufferer, is not as abjectly and outrightly destructive as that of so many others' whom we admire, pardon and emulate.</span><br><br><span class="echo-item-text">~JC </span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693662012-02-15T11:05:00-05:002016-01-02T21:31:19-05:00On Chris Richard's Washington Post Grammy Review<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt;'>It’s </span></span><span class="echo-item-text"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>unfortunate that Chris Richards [</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;'>Disjointed Grammys honor Whitney Houston]</span></span></b><span class="echo-item-text"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'> couldn't find more to appreciate positively about the evening. A live broadcast of a multiple-act performance oriented variety show will of course not have uniformly seamless transitions and as a whole, and will be technically "disjointed". </span></span></span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>With variety, one must expect some inconsistency.<br><span class="echo-item-text"> </span><br><span class="echo-item-text">The few positive remarks he did make were framed and diluted with cynically contextualized. He cites a few “moments of clarity”, while merely relating others without comment, reserving all his writer's eloquence for stabs and snarks. </span><br><span class="echo-item-text"> </span><br><span class="echo-item-text">His commentary on Springsteen's opening number “We Take Care of Our Own” (“given Houston’s death, an ill-considered opening line: “America, are you alive out there?”) was just plain opportunistic and trite. </span><br><span class="echo-item-text"> </span><br><span class="echo-item-text">And Taylor Swift's number (which received a show-stopping standing ovation, hello...) was strong and masterfully rendered. "Sour grapes"...o.k., but that's indeed the theme of the song, man. </span><br><span class="echo-item-text"> </span><br><span class="echo-item-text">If Richards feels the night's show was "something to be endured </span></span></span><span class="text_exposed_show">...a ceremony riddled with disjointed collaborations that spanned genres and generations for the sake of ... what, exactly?"</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";'>...</span></span><br><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'><span class="echo-item-text">and a "missed opportunity" some 25-hours after the untimely and unfortunate death of one of the music world's all-time greats, then perhaps he's the one that's missing an opportunity to consider writing about something else. </span><br><span class="echo-item-text"> </span><br><span class="echo-item-text">I've seen, performed at, and attended numerous Grammy telecasts, and I felt this was one of the more memorable and richly enjoyable, warts and all. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'><span class="echo-item-text"><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/at-grammys-musicians-honor-each-other--and-salute-houston/2012/02/12/gIQA0Lyj9Q_story_1.html" target="_blank">The WP Piece Here</a> </span></span></span><span class="echo-item-text"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></span>
</div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693672012-01-23T01:56:00-05:002020-09-11T03:39:01-04:00In Response to WCP<a href="http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/artsdesk/music/2012/01/20/should-city-paper-cover-more-singer-songwriters/#comment-147130" target="_blank">As per dialogue concerning This Piece</a><br><br><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> 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SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <br><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Dear Jon & WCP~ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>You seem to have acknowledged the full dress of the issue, addressed it with articulate and consultative dialogue, than stitched it all together once more into a nice hat that more closely resembles a burlap sack then crammed it back over our head. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>My problem, after all, is how the term <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">singer-songwriter</i> is presented as a sonic signifier as well as a genre dismissal. Not that all recordings begin or end with a song, but most do. And regardless of what that song is saying and how it’s being said, anything with lyrics is a written song whatever the genre. And someone is singing that written song. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>To name a mere few: Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Paul Simon, Lou Reed, Coldplay, Bowie, Beefheart, Band of Skulls, Lola Jesus, Junip, Jesus and Mary Chain are each and all songwriters or bands with songwriters. Take your pick of most any recordings, and unless it’s strictly instrumental--and sometimes even then--you’ll see a song with lyrical content in there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Are some edgier than others textually or sonically? One might easily neglectfully overlook one while knowingly dismissing the other. Some more pop-ier? Some folk-ier? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Folksy-pop</i>, maybe not an established genre--but what does that exactly mean?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>If WCP is referring to acoustic, folk, spare or simple 3 to 4 chord starkly accompanied performing songwriters, you might state so more articulately, more specifically. You clearly wax colloquial in a time when labels are so blurred (you do acknowledge the mix tape/album ambiguity) that we’re ever-compelled to clamor for descriptive certainty. So this could be a discussion of semantics, but I fear it concerns something more formidable and more consequential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Is one to perceive WCP’s reiterated policy statement as an unwillingness to write about, promote or cover any artist whose principal element purveyed through their art is lyrical content? Should WCP then recuse itself from critical regarding the lyrical content within any of the genres they do cover, or at least admit that lyrics are the least and last aspect worth regard? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>It would be refreshing to sense a more positive eagerness to welcome a field of potential critics to cover “singer-songwriters”, rather than beholding your skepticism-laced frontloaded naysay based on your two-year history with the paper. In any vibrant arts city--especially this Capital one—any apparent ongoing intransigent policy or a status quo smells very uncreative, inartistic, unadventurous, unliberated, stodgy— etc. and ew. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Art reviewers--music reviewers in particular—can sometimes understandably frustrate and unnerve an artist for they enjoy the privileged license to impart the first and last official word regarding works whose very creation was something in which they had no direct hand. That’s not meant disrespectfully, or as a dismissal. Critical review is essential to a healthy artistic process, within and without, published or not. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Many a critic’s names have become household words. The great Edmund Wilson was a well admired and respected writer, although mostly known for his abundant critical reviews and pieces. He had enough inherent and cultivated taste and judgmental skills as well as earned erudite credibility to be a trusted source for literary appraisal. He, too, had a dismissive side. He, too, felt some types of writing were not worth consideration. He also believed that all writing--even critiques—should be good enough to be considered literature. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>I’ve heard other music critics state proudly that their primary concern is to provide their readership with something colorful, enticing and entertaining. H.L. Mencken, Christopher Hitchens, Martin Amis (certainly a novelist first) each discerning to barbed degrees, always manage to be fun to read.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Yes, a critic’s job contains multitudes. It should never be taken lightly. Perhaps you feel that critical commentary on the work of singer-songwriters doesn’t offer enough fuel for that sort of fire. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Critics have the ironic power of the written word with which to express an informed, informing and seasoned opinion of a work with the intention of aiding and influencing the audience’s approach to it, possibly hastening a decision whether to approach at all. It can and often does pass as entertaining reading. In fact, words and their crafted scan and sequence combine for an eerily powerful commodity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any songwriter known for their songs would more than likely attest to them being if not the most important aspect of their work, than the one requiring the most focused and intensely invested effort. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>The creative process is a painstaking and subjective one. So is the act of critically reviewing, assessing and assailing, praising or poo-pooing the resultant work. Each process can be fulfilling, endearing, gratifying and righteous or unsettling, dyspeptic, vindictive and torturous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>But for WCP to proudly brandish categorical and sweeping subjectivity as a policy statement (furthered in the guise of speculation that no one with “the chops” will likely come forth to mollify the situation) is pure bigotry, somewhat poorly articulated, at that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Today’s social networking platforms can create the unfortunate illusion that one’s proximal and encircling universe is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> universe. A newspaper (a City Paper) has the task (and you largely rise to it) of transcending that phenomenon and unifying—magnifying-- a city’s diverse art scene into our one proud corner of the sky. Within that though, exclusionary policies based on vague terminology will prove counterintuitive. You notably and generally do excel at this mission--the title of your piece was the inviting inquiry, “so how’d we do?” which is, on one hand, amiable, admirable and encouraging--unmistakably in the spirit of convivial inclusion and pluralistic awareness. One the other hand, it contrasts into an unfriendly and unbecoming light the reiterated intent to banish a huge--and I believe legitimate--faction of our arts community to the literary elsewhere. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>‘What is hip? Tell me, tell me if you think you know…”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>I’ve been around long enough to know what isn’t: bigotry and uninformed dismissiveness. We might all strive to be cooler in that regard.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>Thanks for indulging my far too many words, and many thanks for all you do! I’m digging the 2011 list of salient artists and recordings from 2011. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>I can also chime, apart from this bit of a blip, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">job well done!</i> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>May yours and other area publications along with the efforts of all the artistic players in the Washington DC area continue to be a hearty, mindful and soulful collaboration toward an ever-more realized, flourishing and thriving artistic community. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style='font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";'>~Jon Carroll <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Songwriter, Musician <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.joncarroll.org/">www.joncarroll.org</a> </span></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693682012-01-14T13:15:00-05:002016-01-02T21:31:19-05:00On Media's Obsessive Take On Tim Tebow<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Again, spirituality becomes merely another type of "condition" rendering someone or something remarkable and apart from most.</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">There has been and will always be race, sex, creed bigotry--the cause of the deliberation most folks make--repeatedly-- in deciding to what extent they should or shouldn't be overt in the expression of their identities.</span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"> As fans or as media<span class="text_exposed_show"> monkeys, we seem to have stigmatized Tebow-cast a different colored spotlight than that which shines on the nominally prominent sports figure. We've made him extra special--moreover, peculiar. </span></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">But I'll wager that he is much more inclusive in his assessment and analysis of his team's successes: Jesus on the main line, yes...but shouldn't we also cite the FRONT line? Believers? How about those receivers? That's one great congregation out there (Matthew 18:20, indeed) and I'm sure Tim would demure from taking all that credit, even when offering the overall to the Almighty. </span></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">There's a spirit moving in and through all of us, and that's regardless of how, why and where we may kneel.</span></span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft='{"type":1}'><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show"> ~JC </span></span></span></h6>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693692011-12-22T12:05:00-05:002020-05-12T06:03:12-04:00(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction<a href="http://youtu.be/Q7aAbQxD_3Y" target="_blank"><span style='font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;'>SATISFACTION</span></a> From The BandHouse Gigs Tribute to the British Invasion.<br><br> Everybody cooks on this. Yeah.Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693702011-12-21T14:35:00-05:002018-09-10T05:04:07-04:00Note to Pete--Amis's & Avlon's, King's & Kingsley's<div class="MsoNormal">Hey Pete, Dreadful Show~</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I have to weigh in with a bit of a raised eyebrow that you weren’t aware of author <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Martin Amis</b> when <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">John Avlon</b> brought him up yesterday. Fair enough, as it’s always refreshing to hear you (and too few others) own and confess to areas of expertise and erudition where you, as well as all of us, sometimes find ourselves lacking or without more formidable knowledge. Curiosity is a golden resource, which you recognize and remind your listeners of regularly. I’m now a reader of over a dozen new writers/journalists with whom you and your listeners have made me familiar. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I was a bit surprised, because you seem to put a high premium on soul-stirring and mind/game changing narratives, and in the wake of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Vaclav Havel</b>’s recent passing, which in fact was the context of your and Johns’ conversation, there is acknowledgement of the worth of great artists—writers, thinkers, poets, musicians as well as eloquent activists--in the realization of real societal change--they, the real warriors in the battle for hearts and minds, if you will. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Amis</b> is truly one of those.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">I was happily surprised to hear that John A and Martin A were buds. I’ve read many, but not all, of Martin's books, fiction and non-fiction, and have just completed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The House of Meetings</i>…which is a wonderful novel tale of a love triangle involving brothers who each spent time in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Stalin</b>’s camps. I feel that<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> London Fields</i> is his most sure-handed and most realized accomplishment, although all his books are masterfully written, full of wit, irony, tears, and magnificent and masterful wordcraft. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time’s Arrow</i> is, unfortunately, the one book that is read by many whom only have read one of his works. It is a gem, though. </div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">An added irony is that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Llewellyn King</b>, who like John, was subbing for you while you were on vacation, was listing authors whose language and philosophies served as salient examples of great language and societal examination. I was compelled to call in when he mentioned <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Kingsley Amis</b> (Martin’s father), as one of his favorites (the English teacher from Texas, as I recall, was unaware of him) and I was eager to discuss language—linguistics in particular. I waited...and waited until The King connected, apologised, then was his usual gracious and affable self, albeit in the last minute of his show. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">In my travels as a performer, I cross paths with many journalists, statesmen and politicos, collaborate with some, and have cultivated lasting friendships with a handful. Two in particular, on different occasions, were slow to recognize <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Llewellyn King’s</b> name when I brought it up, as I do frequently due to my highest regard for his work, as well as his wonderfully entertaining style of commentary. They came to, of course, when I mentioned his show, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">White House Chronicle</b>. He is a golden resource in a field of tinfoil, and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">POTUS</b> is smart to enlist his gifts. Folks will be ever increasingly aware of him, thanks to you all.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Pick up on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Martin Amis</b>, you’ll be very glad you did.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">And, speaking of narrative and framing, and if you’ve yet to do so, please see about getting linguist <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">George Lakoff</b> onto the show. Hell, why not <b>Martin Amis</b>? He and <b>Avlon</b> together would be profoundly wondrous.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Gratefully Yours~</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Jon Carroll Jon in Leesburg, Va www.joncarroll.org</div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693712011-11-22T11:07:00-05:002020-09-21T03:23:52-04:00In Reply to Comments on ....<span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/why-occupy-wall-street-will-keep-up-the-fight/2011/11/17/gIQAn5RJZN_story.html">Why Occupy Wall Street Will Keep Up The Fight--Kalle Lasn & Micah White </a></b></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Great piece. </b></span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;"><b>IN RESPONSE TO THIS COMMENT:</b></span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;"><b>COMMENT </b></span><br><br><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A new left-right hybrid party forming based largely upon an anti-business political platform?<br><br>The idealism is cute. I have to wonder, though, who from the right would be interested in a scheme for higher taxes that would risk seizing up our capital markets. The vision is a left-right hybrid, but the platform is far-left progressive. At the end of the day, I suspect that the Occupy people will remain in their current position in the American political landscape, as the alway<span class="moreText">s-disgruntled (but sometimes more disgruntled than others) far-left flank of the Democratic Party. An Occupy candidate is not likely to win an election, and, since someone has to win, most of the Occupy crowd will continue looking for idealistic messiahs within the Democratic ranks, by whom they will continue to be disappointed.<br><br>It is good to see someone involved in Occupy starting to think about real policy proposals that could change the system. Ultimately, though, there isn't much here that is very different from anything I've heard from Democratic and progressive voices for the last several years.</span></i></span><br><br><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="moreText" style="font-size: small;"><b>RESPONSE </b></span><i><span class="moreText"><br></span></i></span><br><br><span style="font-size: small;"><b>As any "occupations" have historically </b>had as an aspiration--and this would include the 11th hour Republicans who saw the leverage inherent in the debt-ceiling intransigence, and Nordquist's tax-pledge, etc.-- this movement is, maybe not yet as well, all about <i>forcing the issue.</i> <br><br>The OWS needs to hope for, strive for, some sort of leverage to up their octane. The divide of inequality and available resources is much too wide to be bridged or narrowed by rhetoric and moral platitudes. <br><br>The vision of a higher-tax induced "seizing up" of our capitol markets is threat-like, and therein the arm-twisting is already in play, front loaded. <br><br>Since when has the market NOT been about risk? When things were greasing right along, the markets apparently didn't feel such risk while they ventured and bundled and default swapped and frittered hundred of billions of private $$ away. Who was risking what then? Heretofore, the pattern in place is to privatize gains while socializing losses. Now who's seized up? <br><br>Policy change is good, only when new and/or improved policies are implemented. Yes, there need to be legislative leaders to work toward that end. There are such elected officials and respected erudite and reasonable voices (Ron Paul, Bernie Saunders, Robert Reich, Krugman, etc) sitting at their desks and standing in the wings. We need to force them up onto the stages and out onto the floors. <br><br>OWS is NOT merely "kids" in the parks, and the movement will increasingly become more difficult to ignore as it morphs and assimilates to find traction and force some results.<br><br>And we shouldn't fool ourselves: it won't all be peaceful, and it won't be all be pretty. Or cute. It will be hard and cruel, much as it has become for jobless, the poor and the hopeless in the US and elsewhere.</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br>~JC</span><br><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693722011-11-20T01:32:00-05:002017-02-05T02:57:30-05:00Paint That Dollar<a href="https://soundcloud.com/jdcarroll88/12-paint-that-dollar?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=blogger&utm_content=https://soundcloud.com/jdcarroll88/12-paint-that-dollar">Paint That Dollar</a><br>For OWSJon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693732011-11-19T11:16:00-05:002016-01-02T21:31:20-05:00Public TVs and Early Challenges ReVisited from Jan 2010<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> Originally Posted Jan 2010~</span><br><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Fox may be the most watched by, and therefore, "trusted" source, an ironic and elastic term in this day and age, but this is due largely to the demographic of it's viewing audience, which ranges from the minimally to marginally educated shallow thinkers, to the educated and accomplished status-quo, "I've got mine and got over" capitalist conservatives who endorse and support the effective way with which this shrill rhetoric maintains that status quo in a time when they are threatened by a liberal administration. <br><br>The trajectory of the Fox agenda originates from a sensational, disingenuous source and I have a difficult time separating the political agenda from the commercial one, and wonder if even those folks purveying the programming can discern where the motive meets and greets the merchandise.<br><br>They most certainly win the "who's most vocal" contest within the broadcast media, and therefore, the most heard, but the caveat there should be "by whom". As kids, when we would hear something outrageous, offensive or incredible, my father would mollify us with the instruction to "consider the source". We should be able to do that on our own, as sentient, thinking adults, without someone prompting us to while then providing us with thoughts for our heads and words for our mouths.<br><br>In this day and age, so much information is available to us, yet we've allowed the bullies to rule the schoolyard. It's unfortunate, for the common folks--and by that I mean most of us--that, so far during this administration, we've failed to maintain that same bombastic and resolute tone while helping to push through reasonable, thoughtful reform. <br><br>It's given me a wimpy feeling.<br><br>I have high hopes that President Obama will redirect a purposeful agenda with his address tonight.<br><br>Our leaders on the left are guilty of corporate cowtowing in the name of concensus, while we the people put up with the Fox-generated haranguing of the right who have successfully sold the scenario of "behind-closed-doors" opaque wheeling and dealing to an angry and hurting populace many of whom are unrealistically looking for overnight redemption. Fox has successfully manufactured a "failed President", who has been in office one mere year.<br><br>It's time for a lazy electorate to wake up and not stand for this hijack job. We must maintain the message and push through reason with informed clarity.<br><br>The bailout needs to be sold again, and that may be most difficult. Jobs need to be created NOW. Reform must continue. With that, perhaps we would not be so eager to have our heads turned by the Fox bullies of the world. <br><br>In the meantime, folks need to READ MORE and LISTEN LESS. <br><br>I firmly request that TVs which are tuned to FoxNews in public places be switched to something else, or demand a good reason why they are tuned to Fox. If they refuse, I follow through on my threat to not patronize their business. <br><br>This was more difficult recently when my wife and I had a medical emergency. Our Fairfax Hospital had Glen Beck on Fox playing on BOTH its TVs in the ER waiting room. I looked around and no one in the burgeoning room appeared to be watching or even interested. I requested that they change the channel to something more "neutral". <br><br>The Discovery, Weather or ESPN channels seem to be palatable alternatives.</span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693742011-11-18T11:02:00-05:002017-01-14T16:08:00-05:00A Missed Framing Opportunity?<div style="text-align: center;">
<br><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Framing the Argument</b> </span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">For Infrastructure Jobs (And Homeland Safety) Program </span><br><br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.onlykent.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/San-Bruno-fire-explosion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="//static.onlykent.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/San-Bruno-fire-explosion.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">I’m a proponent of infrastructure and education becoming the cornerstones of a job-creating, future-investing job generating program. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">And I’m surprised to not hear the President invoke more than merely “crumbling bridges and highways” as a means to cite the consequences of neglecting our infrastructure. He seems to choose to frame this argument as a jobs program, and necessity for a nominal modern day lifestyle and a smoothly functioning society.</span></span><br><span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">It was only little over a year ago, however, that the <a href="http://articles.sfgate.com/2010-09-10/news/23996646_1_gas-line-explosion-wind-whipped-blaze-smoke-inhalation" target="_blank">San Bruno gas explosion</a> occurred, which resulted in at least eight fatalities and hundreds of injuries. The explosion was tantamount to a bomb blast destroying an entire neighborhood. 53 homes were destroyed. Aging gas lines were blamed, ones that were designed and built for a handful of then rural structures, structures that multiplied with suburban expansion, overtaxing the network of lines until this catastrophe occurred.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;"><br></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;"> Later the <a href="http://www.mercurynews.com/bay-area-news/ci_18787566" target="_blank">NTSB further excoriated Pacific Gas & Electric’s</a> lack of oversite and the paucity of suitable regulatory measures in place when the network was laid in 1956.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">Numerous experts at the time decried this insidious neglect as an ever increasing danger, as infrastructure ages and populations increase. Infrastructure failure continues to emerge as a public safety and public health issue. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">I wonder why the President doesn’t seize this argument as an opportunity to frame a public works initiative as necessity for safe communities, much as the neo-cons successfully mobilized public sentiment into two or more colossal global adventures and compromised civil rights using well-framed fear mongering and tales of (further) impending and/or imminent destruction lest a great malignant menace be discounted, neglected or ignored. </span></span><br><br><span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;"><a href="http://washingtonexaminer.com/local/mishaps-bring-aging-infrastructure-light" target="_blank">http://washingtonexaminer.com/local/mishaps-bring-aging-infrastructure-light</a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">Perhaps trite sounding, but this ever aging infrastructure might be framed as an “enemy within”. The Right relentlessly implements this tactic using everything from “Godlessness” to tax-hikes to promote its agendas. Yes, they’ve even successfully managed to vilify our teachers. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">If Obama personalized this particular (infrastructure) threat--anthropomorphized it, if you will, he may counter the rhetoric and shame some of these absurdist legislative opponents into some results. And, lo and behold, create some jobs in the process.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">We continue to see the Left fail to frame arguments effectively, something the Right has consistently done.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br><span style="font-size: small;"><br></span> <span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">I’m wondering what linguist <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/george-lakoff" target="_blank">George Lakoff</a> would have to er, ah, say about it.</span></span>
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Franklin Gothic Medium; font-size: small;"><span style="color: sienna;">~JC </span></span></div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693752011-11-18T10:37:00-05:002017-01-14T16:08:00-05:00JC's Hyperheard Trivia 1--Sunny by Bobby Hebb<div style="background-color: white;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Sunny” by Bobby Hebb</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><img src="//fusion45.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/Bobby-Hebb.jpg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="320" width="320" />
</div><div style="background-color: white;"><u><b></b></u></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is such a wonderful sounding recording</span> of a fabulous performance of a delightfully soulful song. The recently deceased Hebb wrote it as a declaration of gratitude for the healing power and optimism of a new day after some dark and discouraging times. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This stereo recording smacks of a “head-on” take--a group performance captured live--and the lead vocal is right up the middle with most of the other elements hard-panned to the left or right channels. Leakage from the left side drums can be heard on the right side horns. Love it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nevertheless, it’s not a crude or unrefined mix. This is a great sounding recording of a great performance of a great song. What more might one want?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I find this to be exemplary of what I like to call “sophisticated soul”, boasting much harmonic eloquence and instrumental aptitude. It’s a musical chart that I’m sure kept all the players excitedly on their toes while laying it down!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After the first 2 verse/choruses, the arrangement modulates keys upward in half-steps, famously and repeatedly--three times. I recently noticed that--after the third and last modulation--that the bass, in the second measure, doesn’t quite make it up to the three chord , playing an “uh-oh” quick second. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So quick, it didn’t matter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Bob Dawson (Bias Recording) and I like to say “Soupy won’t mind!” It won’t affect …uh…sales. Indeed, the record became a million seller and is known the world over. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d be interested to know the total time taken for this production—tracking, overdubs (if any), and mixing. I’d venture that it took 1/20 the amount of time needed to produce the typical pop record of today. My friend Don Dixon suggested that it probably took about an hour, considering the fact that in those days, most of the session players’ time was spent patiently while the singer learned a theretofore unheard song. But Bobby was the writer, and showed up ready to sing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Listen one of these ol’ days, and it will grab you all over again. It’s one of my all-time favorites.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"> "Sunny" was recorded at Bell Sound Studios in New York City and released as a single in 1966.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">Read more about the artist and the song <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunny_%28song%29">HERE.</a>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><br></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">~JC </div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693762011-07-28T09:56:00-04:002019-07-27T04:11:39-04:00LETTER TO MY CONGRESSMAN<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> 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<b><span> </span></b><br>LETTER TO MY CONGRESSMEN--VA. REP. FRANK WOLF, 10<sup>th District</sup>
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">"It is precisely because the stakes are so I high that I believe the debt limit vote can serve as a trigger to force congressional action" – </div><div class="MsoNormal">THESE ARE YOUR WORDS STATING THAT: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">You are falling in with the denial bent political propagandists who are brazenly, obdurately keeping their finger on (yes, you said)"trigger" of the gun which rests against our very future, and that of the global economy as a whole.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">
<span></span>The facts are undeniable, the historical lessons salient, the polling of ALL Americans convincing, but you and yours (and the "pledge" makers in your ranks) insist on playing this circus game which is ridiculously politically oriented, or insidiously geared to orchestrate the demise of our known way of life. It is quite possibly both. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">If so, shame on you all. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Our President pointed out that the new "dirty word" stigma attached to compromise in your ranks offends the American people. Count me as among them. I am deeply offended by this smoke-and-mirror double-talk "spending-spree" CRAP we repeatedly hear. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">YOU KNOW THE TRUTH. HAVE THE GUTS TO PUT THE CITIZENS WHOM YOU REPRESENT FIRST AND DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">This episode is unbecoming, deplorable, and the rhetoric is abhorrent. Grow up and put away childish things. Not only we, but the whole world is watching. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Do humanity justice and accept the fact that our fiscal health will require cuts, caps and NEW REVENUE fairly culled from ALL able to afford the measure. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Mere cuts will not accomplish this, and you know it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">Really Steamed~ </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal">~Jonathan Carroll <span> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<span> </span>Leesburg, Va</div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693772011-07-28T09:54:00-04:002016-01-02T21:31:20-05:00What Are We Really Talking About?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> 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mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <br><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'><span> </span><span style="font-size: large;">What Are We Really Talking About?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'><span><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"></span></span><br><span style="background-color: #6aa84f;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>Yes, the average American has sufficient cause to be daunted. Many of those with moderate to formidable educations and, by most global standards, considerable tools, skills, energy and ambition to pursue a gainful and rewarding life, have hit a wall. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>There were roughly 8.8%, or 13.5 million unemployed in this country as of the end of March. These figures vary and flux within and across demographic groups, and the numbers can only reflect what is reported, which fuels speculation that the figure may be higher, as a number of unemployed no longer regularly search or apply for work.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt;'>(Nearly 14 million Americans — 9.1 percent of the working population — are unemployed. That’s just a couple of a million shy of the populations of Greece and Ireland, Europe’s two problem children, combined. Another 8.5 million would like to work full time, but can only find part-time jobs. A further 2.2 million have been so discouraged by the grim labor market that they have given up looking for jobs altogether....http://blogs.reuters.com/chrystia-freeland/)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>If we seek statistics, we will find them. They can be more telling than what flies with flurries of bombast, misinformation, shrill rhetoric and non-news we have in our eyes, noses and ears if we’re within ear shot of a speaker or eye shot of a screen. And that would be most of every day, thanks very much. We can shop and compare stats until we’ve a feel for what may be something close to the truth, but most average Americans don’t do that. They haven’t the time, the energy, or even the inclination to wade into the waters of esoterica and factoids which require trained insight and arcane analytical skills.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>The wellspring of all data is seemingly and endlessly rife with the trivial to the meaningful and grave, and it’s ironic that this modern day volume of immediate availability is lost on most. Many youngsters, in spirit or age, prefer to skim at light speed across the billion mile deep and wide ethers while immersed a mere inch at most, with eyes barely a squint at best. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>The general lot of us who live, love and work daily, maintaining enough spiritual health to find some enrichment in our lives, can only follow our chosen paths and instincts, while keeping our eyes and ears discerningly open. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>Keeping our minds and our hearts as open is quite another matter and sometimes the greater challenge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>Somewhere along the line, in the context of an empowering zeitgeist in which opinions--presumably informed opinions--exist on the air, on the web, in the ear, in the palm and feverishly ticking along on the edges of even the most mundane tableaus, we arrived to a point where, each voice can be constantly broadcast and chronically present in a public forum, we feel helpless in attempting to effect any real change with our thoughts and words.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>The best we can do is share an article, an opinion—hopefully written by someone educated, dedicated, qualified, and whose job it is to impart insight in an accessible language that gets a salient point across readily, that is, effectively conveying a point that can be understood by more than a relative few.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>What’s saddening to me is the banal polarity of this conversation. These days, we find even the most traditional and respectable voices turning shrill. Language on the right actually accuses the left of “attacking” big business and “the rich” for suggesting that it may seem somewhat unfair that they enjoy a greased path to exponential increases in their wealth while a small business owner is still struggling to procure a start-up loan from a “too big to fail” financial institution. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>That same person may reflect on this while filling his gas tank only halfway due to you know what. That person, when in line at the checkout, sees the headline that the oil company enjoyed a double digit percentage increase in profits from last year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>He reads a book that states the staggering statistics of Wall Street salaries, while the Supreme Court rules that corporations now may enjoy unfettered contributions to political campaigns, with the same free speech protection of individual persons. Defense of this mostly deplored (by the middle and left) development was prompt and harsh: that this would also apply to labor unions, as though there is some sort of parity in spoils there, especially in light of the radical efforts to bust those same unions, while somehow managing to stigmatize school teachers and public employees in general as villains who are unreasonable in attempting to retain collective bargaining rights after having already made considerable concessions for the common good. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>In this land, the rich have gotten richer--exponentially more than ever before. There are statistics that bear out that during the expansive period from 2002 to 2007 we went from a time in which most of the nation’s income gains went to the bottom 90 percent of households (the pattern of the economic expansion of the 1960s) to one in which more than half go to the richest 1 percent. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>That’s a lot of wealth going to not a lot of people. I don’t blame those people. I not <i>attacking</i> them. I merely see a playing field before us that’s extremely tilted. If those people are actually paying a lion’s share of utility sustaining taxes, then good. Percentages of a lot amount to more than percentages of a little, and folks that are strapped and making those monthly choices to fill the gas tank or their kid’s stomachs, pay for the blood pressure medicine or the day care, pay the electric bill or the phone bill, don’t have a whole lot to spare. I’m not sure what folks mean when they say the rich will be “taxed into submission”. They proclaim tax hikes as a “redistribution of wealth”. From where I sit, reflecting over hopefully none-too-skewed facts and figures from the last 20-25 years, there already has been a massive re-distribution of wealth. The trickle down economic theories work very well, for folks with money. Do they deserve more because they have more? I do feel there is a moral center to many of these arguments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>That’s the reality, no matter which and whose President passed NAFTA or signed DOMA. If the<span> </span>folks who are hurting, especially those among that 8-10%, are interested in any pointing fingers, it’s the one’s toward cheap groceries and bargain priced coats. I do feel strongly that they deserve more.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>To the man and woman who were once content while simply working hard, supporting their family while working their shift at the auto plant, or the sneaker factory, or running a small hardware or sporting goods store, these facts serve as a harsh reminder that the days of dreaming of a better future for their kids are over. Yes, it was reasonable that those companies moved their manufacturing overseas to China and the like. It was good for business. The big box stores came, and who could stop them? But one certainly can’t expect those jobless folks to pledge allegiance to the flag quite the same way again, even though there’s probably someone on the air, in a pulpit, or behind a podium somewhere who’s convinced them they should if they ever want to see the light of a gainful day again.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>But all the while, America is still an imperial power. We own or operate military bases in over 130 countries. If asked, I’d be hard pressed to name that many countries. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>I hope my Grandkids have an education that allows them to know how health care works in other countries, and be able to name all the states in this one. I hope they grow to care about people regardless of their religion, fiscal worth,<span> </span>or political leaning. I hope they read much and often, and are able to express their own mind without the help of ubiquitous and anonymous voices to indict and rant and make them feel like victims. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>This is a harsh and dismal time for many good hearted and hard working folks. I feel for them as I feel anxious for me and mine. If posting a link to a piece that states a case that furthers what I feel should be a growing proactive dissatisfaction with the status quo offers a little juice for a conversation going on somewhere around a dinner table, then good. But the center of any argument I make is that of compassion for the suffering, and a hope that hard work and caring for our fellow humans wills out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>All the tit-for-tat jockeying we hear, as if for a debate team win using informed angles and extrapolations, at this point, seems trite and a little sad to me, while there are folks merely in need of real help, real hope. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>I’ve decided to not post any more vent-oriented provocative articles that, at this point, merely restate<span> </span>the obvious: that our land is in trouble. Wherever I find data or unbent info, or a piece that may inspire, elucidate or facilitate, or is good for a laugh, I’ll throw it up for whomever may be interested. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>But it’s our real blood on the line. And that’s shouldn’t be sport. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>~JC<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'><span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<u><span style='color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'>http://www.bls.gov/news.release/empsit.nr0.htm</span></u><span style='font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;'></span>
</div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693782011-02-23T10:52:00-05:002016-01-02T21:31:20-05:00The New Republican Austerity<div class="MsoNormal"><b>The New Republican Austerity Campaign</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">The ever more vivid systematic and no longer merely nascent, continuously and progressively codified evisceration of the lower and middle working class in this country has rendered me bitter, daunted and on the brink of despondency. </div>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693792011-01-28T11:11:00-05:002020-10-14T02:58:38-04:00Should we give music away for free? | LinkedIn<a href="http://www.linkedin.com/groupItem?view=&gid=38721&type=member&item=41300850&commentID=30649595&goback=.gmp_38721&report.success=8ULbKyXO6NDvmoK7o030UNOYGZKrvdhBhypZ_w8EpQrrQI-BBjkmxwkEOwBjLE28YyDIxcyEO7_TA_giuRN#commentID_30649595">Should we give music away for free? | LinkedIn</a><br><br><span class="comment-body" text="No music, art, nor any form of creativity at all is necessarily connected to a money-meter. You've stated as much yourself. As any endeavor may teach, there are many potentially prohibitive aspects to attaining your "goal", whatever that may be. Many creative people, who do artistic work as a profession (I'm one) will constantly juggle the money-making projects with the less lucrative, but sometimes ironically more meaningful projects. Whether your own or others', I believe that the music should be approached without cynicism and with full respect and integrity. If you are able to make music, distribute it, etc., and have the (potentially) remunerative aspects be an afterthought, that you're obviously eating and paying your bills. So be it. However, if you wish to do it full-time, and have yourself and/or a family to support, than you'll find yourself necessarily becoming very creative, indeed--at your art as well as at devising a variety of ways to make money from it. If your economical complexion is healthy apart from your artistic endeavors, then enjoy yourself, and hopefully employ some others as collaborators who do rely on music for a living. Most of those folks are pretty good, having learned to do what is called for and do it aptly and economically. Music and art existed before money. In short: if your calling is in the creative arts, and that is what you want to do ALL THE TIME, and you're not subsisting independently, then you should figure out a way to be paid for your work. Giving it away should be measured and promotional. Good luck to you in all your projects. ~JC">No music, art, nor any form of creativity at all is necessarily connected to a money-meter. You've stated as much yourself. As any endeavor may teach, there are many potentially prohibitive aspects to attaining your "goal", whatever that may be. <br><br>Many creative people, who do artistic work as a profession (I'm one) will constantly juggle the money-making projects with the less lucrative, but sometimes ironically more meaningful projects. Whether your own or others', I believe that the music should be approached without cynicism and with full respect and integrity. If you are able to make music, distribute it, etc., and have the (potentially) remunerative aspects be an afterthought, that you're obviously eating and paying your bills. So be it. However, if you wish to do it full-time, and have yourself and/or a family to support, than you'll find yourself necessarily becoming very creative, indeed--at your art as well as at devising a variety of ways to make money from it. </span><span class="comment-body" text="No music, art, nor any form of creativity at all is necessarily connected to a money-meter. You've stated as much yourself. As any endeavor may teach, there are many potentially prohibitive aspects to attaining your "goal", whatever that may be. Many creative people, who do artistic work as a profession (I'm one) will constantly juggle the money-making projects with the less lucrative, but sometimes ironically more meaningful projects. Whether your own or others', I believe that the music should be approached without cynicism and with full respect and integrity. If you are able to make music, distribute it, etc., and have the (potentially) remunerative aspects be an afterthought, that you're obviously eating and paying your bills. So be it. However, if you wish to do it full-time, and have yourself and/or a family to support, than you'll find yourself necessarily becoming very creative, indeed--at your art as well as at devising a variety of ways to make money from it. If your economical complexion is healthy apart from your artistic endeavors, then enjoy yourself, and hopefully employ some others as collaborators who do rely on music for a living. Most of those folks are pretty good, having learned to do what is called for and do it aptly and economically. Music and art existed before money. In short: if your calling is in the creative arts, and that is what you want to do ALL THE TIME, and you're not subsisting independently, then you should figure out a way to be paid for your work. Giving it away should be measured and promotional. Good luck to you in all your projects. ~JC"><br><br>The artist in all of us knows without asking: Music and art existed before money. </span><br><span class="comment-body" text="No music, art, nor any form of creativity at all is necessarily connected to a money-meter. You've stated as much yourself. As any endeavor may teach, there are many potentially prohibitive aspects to attaining your "goal", whatever that may be. Many creative people, who do artistic work as a profession (I'm one) will constantly juggle the money-making projects with the less lucrative, but sometimes ironically more meaningful projects. Whether your own or others', I believe that the music should be approached without cynicism and with full respect and integrity. If you are able to make music, distribute it, etc., and have the (potentially) remunerative aspects be an afterthought, that you're obviously eating and paying your bills. So be it. However, if you wish to do it full-time, and have yourself and/or a family to support, than you'll find yourself necessarily becoming very creative, indeed--at your art as well as at devising a variety of ways to make money from it. If your economical complexion is healthy apart from your artistic endeavors, then enjoy yourself, and hopefully employ some others as collaborators who do rely on music for a living. Most of those folks are pretty good, having learned to do what is called for and do it aptly and economically. Music and art existed before money. In short: if your calling is in the creative arts, and that is what you want to do ALL THE TIME, and you're not subsisting independently, then you should figure out a way to be paid for your work. Giving it away should be measured and promotional. Good luck to you in all your projects. ~JC"> <br>If your economical complexion is healthy apart from your artistic endeavors, then enjoy yourself, and hopefully employ some others as collaborators who do rely on music for a living. Most of those folks are pretty good, having learned to do what is called for and do it aptly and economically.<br><br>In short: if your calling is in the creative arts, and that is what you want to do ALL THE TIME, and you're not subsisting independently, then you should figure out a way to be paid for your work. Giving it away should be measured and promotional.<br><br>Good luck to you in all your projects.<br><br>~JC </span>Jon Carrolltag:www.joncarroll.org,2005:Post/39693802010-09-21T20:06:00-04:002019-11-01T08:55:48-04:00The Rage of the Privileged Class As It Loses Its Privileges -- New York Magazine<a href="http://nymag.com/news/businessfinance/56151/">The Rage of the Privileged Class As It Loses Its Privileges -- New York Magazine</a>Jon Carroll