It’s a mystery how Carla Bley’s new CD, <I>The Lost Chords Find Paolo Fresu</I> (ECM), achieves its greatness. Even the word seems too freighted for music so minimal. A scale segues into a simple melody, followed by a straight harmony, some swishes on snare and hi-hat, a bass line that follows an equally simple counterpoint. Yet some quirky gravity holds these strands in magical equipoise, like a Calder mobile.
Bagheera wonders when she developed four eyes. Correctly, she blames me, course.
Huckleberry doesn't care what I call it, that mouse thing is only interesting when <I>I</I> want to use it.
Making sense of dating—sort of.
"The globalization of the SYF reflects a series of stunning demographic and economic shifts that are pointing much of the world—with important exceptions, including Africa and most of the Middle East—toward a New Girl Order. It’s a man’s world, James Brown always reminded us. But if these trends continue, not so much."
Did you dudes catch that little segment on PBS last night about analog recording versus digital? I did. It was alright. I don't think of these things in terms of a battle, mind you, where there's a bruised but happy winner and a bloody and beaten loser, but mainstream media seems to like taking that approach. I guess it's more palatable that way. To me, there's room in this world for both methods. Have you seen Ultimate Fighting Championship? Now, that's a battle. Analog versus digital? Not so much.
Is it cheating when athletes use the placebo effect to their advantage?
Gerard McBurney seems to share my Oliver Sacks blind spot (<I>Uncle Tungsten</I>, notwithstanding). I still haven't read <I>Musicophilia</I> and although I still intend to, I'm now less convinced that I will find it compelling.
J Mascis' soaring solo comes to a sudden end. Elizabeth walks into my office, tentatively.
Richard Taruskin on the media assault on the declining value of classical music, as seen through the writings of Kramer, Johnson, and Finegold—and wouldn't that make a fine name for a law firm?.