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I was expecting to hear from so many more of you. But no matter: The band will grow in time.
The name of the band is Swarm.
It came to Jon Iverson quickly, quietly, and obviously. Plus: He had just finished reading a story about bees.
It has only been a week, and I'm already having nightmares.
My dream begins with me sitting comfortably in my dirty but loved listening chair. Behind me is an empty fireplace. In front of me, two 10 foot tall loudspeakers materialize. I pace towards them slowly and cautiously. My hand sweeps against their rich dark mahogany finish.
I face my record collection. My hand pulls out Return to Forever's "Where Have I Known You Before." While not in a state of Rapid Eye Movement, I am often befuddled and amused by Corea's praise of L. Ron Hubbard on the record's backside. This…
And Dramatic Chipmunk is the proof.
Last week, I was talking to David Wilson and he was making this point exactly. He quoted multiple Oscar winning film-scorer Shawn Murphy, who said that film shows you narrative, but that music tells you how to feel about it.
The old saw about "the first album was their best" is often true, truer than most artists want to admit. And no where in music is that state more widespread than with singer/songwriters who only have a guitar, their voice and their material and no band to hide behind. Trying to hack out a career as a solo act is a bitch. Takes guts or overweening ego to get through it. Most soloists fall prey to the natural reaction which is to pour all their best ideas into the first project. That's cool until you're faced with coming up with a second and perhaps a third record. Yet sometimes the process can…
Not bloody likely, says Michael Dirda. A scant 12 years after his death, you're unlikely to find even his most lauded novel, Lucky Jim in bookstores, libraries, or on friends' bookshelves.
Of course, reading through Amis' back catalog didn't exactly compel Dirda to call for a re-evaluation.
When Franz Reuleaux created the "language of invention," he more or less invented the future we live in.
Conn and Hal's Iggulden's The Dangerous Book for Boys has been on my must-read list since it was published here in the States, but Conn's lovely essay, "In Praise of Skinned Knees and Grubby Faces," has catapulted it to the top of my list.
Honestly, how could anyone resist a book with this clear-eyed, straightforward advice on getting along with girls? "If you see a girl in need of help—unable to lift something, for example—do not taunt her. Approach the object and greet her with a cheerful smile, while surreptitiously testing the weight of the object. If you find you can lift it, go…
Jon Banner, our online ad sales director, made the announcement. It went like this:
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Bring your forks and an empty belly.
The second Home Entertainment Monday Cook-Off is about to commence.
Save the Date: Monday, 6/27 at 12:30pm
So far, the cooks are
1. Luke Jervis, defending (and still) world champion
2. Keith "I was robbed" Pray
3. Jon "I can't believe no one voted for me" Banner
4. Stephen "1st time a charm" Mejias
5. Ariel "The Intern" Bitran
If you are interested in cooking, please…
Lee Konitz, who turns 80 in October, ambled on stage last night at New York’s Zankel Hall, blew a note, asked his audience to hum it, then, as we all hummed it continuously like a dirge, he blew over it on his alto sax, an improvised solo, darting and weaving, choppy then breezy, sifting changes, shifting rhythms, and all so very cool. It lasted five minutes, it probably could have gone much longer. Then two old pals, bassist Steve Swallow and drummer Paul Motian, joined him, and they played standards. Tenor saxophonist Joe Lovano came out to trade fours and eights. They all left, and on came…