The Ghost in the Machine
"The crying rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause."Bob Dylan, "Lay Down Your Weary Tune" I remember as a toddler sitting in the kitchen on a highchair, watching my mother smoke a cigarette, apply red lipstick, and tune a turquoise table radio from one news station to another. Between the strange, nattering voices, the radio emitted a sharp hissing sound. That's my first memory of human voices coming from a little box.
And asked for no applause."Bob Dylan, "Lay Down Your Weary Tune" I remember as a toddler sitting in the kitchen on a highchair, watching my mother smoke a cigarette, apply red lipstick, and tune a turquoise table radio from one news station to another. Between the strange, nattering voices, the radio emitted a sharp hissing sound. That's my first memory of human voices coming from a little box.
The Music Problem
I remember the exact moment I became an audiophile. It was 1954. I was 12 years old. My father's friend, Mitch Rose, wanted to buy a "hi-fi set," which was what they called them in those days. Mitch asked my father to go with him to help pick one out. My father asked if I wanted to go along for the ride.
I did, and we went to Emmons Audio in Studio City, California, for what turned out to be one of the formative moments of my life.
The Truth Will Make You Odd
Recently I've been thinking a lot about the late Art Dudley and how Art worked humbly and relentlessly to get me to appreciate contemporary bluegrass, especially the work of renowned flat-picker Tony Rice. Back then, my contempt for contemporary bluegrass was equal to my contempt for contemporary country. Both seemed faux and shallow.
Thinking of You: Terry Hall & The Specials
A few weeks before Christmasthe time of year when all public spaces are required by law to play Mariah Carey on an endless loopthis writer was pushing a trolley idly around a London supermarket. I was over by the fresh veg when the distinctive, Hammond-driven intro of the Specials' "Ghost Town" was piped through. Heads nodded. Some shoppers started to sing along.
Weeks later, I heard that Specials front-man Terry Hall had died, of pancreatic cancer. Memories came flooding back.
Tim Hardin: Reason to believe
It would have been in the spring of 1967 that Tim Hardin's music first wafted in over my transom. I was 13. My older brother, who loved Hardin at least as much as I did and was something of a fetishist besides, forbade me to touch his copy of Hardin's debut album, Tim Hardin 1, not even the jacket. He had to be present when I auditioned it. Tim Hardin 2 didn't especially float my boat, so my brother had it to himself. But the moment I heard Tim Hardin 3 Live in Concert, I took matters into my own hands, so to speak, and plunked my own $5 down.
Traveling Through Time and Space
In the April 2024 issue of this magazine, a piece by Editor Jim Austin appeared in the "As We See It" space. It was titled "On assessing sonic illusions," and it has haunted me for more than a year. Jim's thesis was that a music recording is a "synthetic, whole-cloth creation ... a complete fabrication."
Van the Man
The dingy green-and-ochre poster on the subway-station wall, advertising events at Queens's Forest Hills Stadium, didn't draw attention to itself. But what else is there to do on a subway platform but look at posters? I looked at it. There, near the bottom of the left column, I read: "SEPT 12: VAN MORRISON AND WILLIE NELSON & FAMILY."
Van Morrison. In concert. In Queens.
Vertigo
In Alfred Hitchcock's great film Vertigo, filmed in San Francisco in 1957, the protagonist, Scottie, played by James Stewart, becomes obsessed with Madeleine, played by Kim Novak. Scottie, a retired detective, suffers from a disabling case of acrophobia, which becomes a critical if tenuous plot point.
We need a new word
When I first heard the word "audiophile," I loved it. It sounded fresh and dignified. I related to it instantly. An audiophile! I loved the whole idea of it, the focus on music, on sound. That was me! I'd found myself! And people like me. Other audiophiles, who lived all over the world. To paraphrase Tom Petty, it was like a first flash of freedom.
What My Toddler Taught Me About Music and AI
When she was three years old, I watched my daughter operate a drinking fountain for the first time. As she leaned in, she loosened her grip on the button, cutting the flow. She tried this several times, with admirable persistence but zero success. Eventually she had an idea: Lean in first, then press the button.