Out of the Ivory Tower

A trip to the local music store only reminds me how little I get out and what a bubble I live in. It also brought home a truth or two.
Recently, a friend I hadn't seen in ages innocently asked:
"Do you still play guitar?"
"Well, back when I cared, I did."
Silence. Puzzlement.
"Oops! Did I say that out loud?"
I tried to make a joke of my oblique comment and told him that it was a long story.

When you play the guitar and truly love it, you are going to go through phases with it, just like anything. For me, a few lines from Sting might quickly clarify my attitude:
"I must love what I destroy
and destroy the thing I love."

I have been reinterested in my beloved guitar as of late. Of course, the guitar is as hard a master as anything, but also forgiving as a saint. Kind of like coming home and being forgiven for all your trespasses and negligence with nary a word of admonition.

Mel Bay (Yes, Mel Bay publisher of the many bad things) has recently published this new arrangement of the Bach Cello Suites. So, I went out to local music store in hopes finding this new publication.

After sifting through a confusing display of sheet music and finding not a solo guitar catagory, finally a salesperson approached.

Dressed in alternative grunge style clothing with the obligatory "tats", piercings, bracelets, rings and other paraphenalia signifying his allegiance to his tribe, he opened with:
"Uh..can I help you?" His enthusiasm for his job was barely containable.
"I am looking for some gee-tar music." Looking for perhaps a brother of the six-string, I use this cute variation.
"Gee-tar music?" I have puzzled Sir Tat-A-Lot. This is going well, methinks.
"Guitar music."
"Well, here's our guitar books."
After a quick look-see, it is clear we are adrift in the sea of beginning guitar books.
"What I'm looking for is this new transcription of Bach for guitar."
"Bach for guitar?" I say nothing, but shake my head "Yes."
He goes to a computer to search for a title, but the internet is down. Flustered, he looks around for help with this most unusual request. A second salesman, who is otherwise engaged with a cocky, balding-with-a-ponytail (why is the cliche always so true?) guitar enthusiast, excuses himself to resolve this dilemma I've unwittingly caused.

"Look man," (finally someone I can relate to) "the music that we have here is what was left over from the closing of the Huntington store. What you're looking for, we'd have to order and that usually takes us a long time to get. So, your best bet would be to try so-and-so."

I thank him for his candor and thank him for not wasting my time searching and ordering something that would have taken weeks to order.

I should have just gone to Amazon in the first place.

The Final Edition

New DVD: Apocalypse Now-The Complete Dossier

Ye cynics will say that Coppola is sure milking his masterpiece by first releasing the Redux version and now this edition. Ok, maybe you're right, but when I read the bonus features, that was all the convincing I needed.

Brando's complete reading of T.S. Eliot's The Hollow Men? Not negotiable, a must buy. Unseen footage? A reunion of the actors in the PBR Streetgang? This is not filler for the true fan of this film. This is must-see stuff. I have only watched a small portion so far of the extras and am really pleased.

One curious thing: both the 1979 version and Redux are on here, but with both, you have to change to another disc to finish the film. That doesn't make any sense to me. Why not have the original, Redux and then bonus on three discs?

Fans complain that the documentary "Hearts of Darkness" detailing Coppola's trails and tribulations while making this film should have been included. Hey, I agree, but that would have made four discs. How much do you want to pay?

This can be taken to an extreme like George Romero's zombie fanatic followers who complain that there are always things missing from any special edition. For example, Romero released a FOUR disc set of Dawn of the Dead and still some online idiot complained that the bootleg German edition was not included. Somehow they believe that unseen footage remains locked mysteriously in a vault somewhere.

(Above: is this a missing frame from Dawn of the Dead? Scientists and fanatics debate this "still.")

There is finite amount and of that only very little is watchable. Do fanatics get the concept of editing at all? Do they really want to sit through take after take of all the footage shot?

I got this beauty on sale at FYE at the Charleston Town Center for $16.99. If I had waited (impossible!), Amazon's price is $12.99, but you have to spend $25 to qualify for free shipping. There's the rub.

The color is amazing and widescreen is the only way to view this film.

Watch in awe at this masterpiece, but be careful:this is powerful stuff.

Making the Transition

high above the summer sings
the rasping sound of cicada wings
from the trees their clarion call:
"Here comes fall. Here comes fall."

and soft upon the evening winds
the insistent cricket chant begins
from the darkness comes the song:
"Summer's gone. Summer's gone."

-August 2006

It's a feeling I get every August. A feeling of sadness. Sad that summer is on it's last legs, like a guest who can't take a hint that it's time to go home. It's time has passed, although the humidity and the high temperatures remain, we all know that it's on its way out. No matter how much fun I think I've had in summer, I always feel a bit cheated when it passes. The cicadas in August always remind me of this.

Earlier in the evening, those damn cicadas were going crazy with that maddening buzzing. Later that night, after the pooch and I had done our prerequisite round of the neighborhood, this feeling of sadness came upon me. Those words formed almost as a prayer.

It was always the cicadas that reminded me that it was time to return to college. I know that returning to college doesn't sound like an occasion of sadness, but to me there was a bittersweetness to it all. Sure, old friends reunited was exciting, but then the true horrors of living in Bonar Hall (yes that was the real name) were enough to make your blood chill. I lived among the barbaric hoardes in that hall-all those monsterous frat boys. The worst were the TKEs. They were the most evil of all fraternities at West Liberty State College. They were not kind to artistic music types like me. Let's just say they were openly hostile.

But all those days are gone (Ten Year Rule ?), but still that sense of sadness remains when summer turns to fall. I know by late September, with guitar students to teach, that summer will be a vague memory.

I think Robert Frost would agree as these are his words on the subject:

Ah, when to the heart of man was it ever less than treason
To go with the drift of things, to yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end of a love or a season?

Why Do the Wicked Prosper?

Update 9/6/06 from the Gaz-a reader's editorial:http://www.wvgazette.com/section/Editorials/200609042/?pt=10

"It is nearly impossible not to notice the large number of stray cats in Charleston and surrounding areas and other forms of animal abuse reported daily. This is the result of ignorance. The behavior continues because of our “slap on the wrist” punishments to animal abusers. Study after study shows a strong connection between animal abuse and human abuse.

[My note-one of FBI's behavorial signs of psychopathic behavior is the torturing of animals.]

Consider the last major animal abuse case in Charleston: We, as a community, allowed a man to go free when a jury found him not guilty. Somehow they managed to “normalize” taping a mutilated dog to a car steering wheel — maybe because the defendant was drunk? Ask your kids how they feel about a dog being shot, having a screwdriver rammed through the back of its skull and protruding out of its eye socket, then being taped to a steering wheel.

[My note-although I appreciate the passion here, I wouldn't bring such a horrific description to a child's world. Although we know human life is more valuable than an animal's (this is often strained by abominable human behavior such as this case), how we treat all life is a reflection of who and what we are. All life is sacred and deserves our respect and protection because we are the stewards of the earth. We are not here to be conquerers, to "have dominion" over all, but to be caregivers and protectors. It's our responsibility and to do otherwise goes against "the better angels of our nature."]

Fortunately, most kids aren’t as uncaring and warped as adults when it comes to concern for life in all forms. What a horrific example we set for kids.

Melody Hunter
Charleston

[My note-I've seen some pretty monsterous kids in my time, but the parents shape the child. Monsters are not born, they are made. I imagine that some kids were really disturbed by this case and the outcome. Poor souls. I pray that mom and dad were there to comfort them.]





Another story from Das Gazetter:http://www.wvgazette.com/section/News/2006081026
Read the story first. It's not an easy read for animal lovers, so keep that in mind.
TV story:http://wowktv.com/story.cfm?func=viewstory&storyid=1708

This needs not a lot of editorial comment as it is disgusting enough, but a few lines jumped out at me: "Starcher admitted that he was drinking and driving with his stepson in the vehicle the night he killed the dog, but denied saying anything inflammatory immediately after he pulled the trigger." (Anyone want to take that one?)

Read for clues of inconsistency:
“I kept telling Mark Mooney, ‘You need to do something with this dog,’ ” Starcher testified. “I said if it was my dog, and it bit me like that, I would put it to sleep.” (Of course, you insisted! You were helping a friend. You mean the humane way, of course and not a vulgar, barbaric, violent way. Gotcha bro.)
When Mooney hesitated, Starcher said he offered to shoot the dog. (What a great guy!) According to Starcher, Mooney told him, “If you think that’s best.”
(Then tell me how that translates into the next statement of truth?)
“He actually told me to shoot the dog,” Starcher said. “He wasn’t going to do it, so he told me to shoot the dog.” (Of course, anybody would jump at an opportunity like that.)

More humanity is revealed:

... and he and Mooney came up with the idea of taping the lifeless animal to the steering wheel together. (Ah, always good to see such fine examples of the best in humankind. Good going guys. Expect that invitation from the Humane Society soon.)

"When asked why he taped the dog to the SUV’s steering wheel, Starcher said he did that out of “stupidity.” (Big surprise there.)

And:"Starcher said he told police that he and Mooney had lost the dog and denied owning a pistol because he panicked after the media coverage after the dead dog was discovered." (You mean they lied? How shocking!)
“I was scared to death,” Starcher said. “I didn’t know what to do.”(Any implication of guilt there? Nope, no way.)


The real horrors of what they did to this animal before shooting it are not in this article. Let's just say that this petition may be too late, but:http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/371992616

Thanks, good friends, nostalgia, and reunions

THANKS

First, before my dull observations of life begin, I want to say thanks to those of you who read these humble pages. I am honored (and a little more than surprised) that anyone reads these pages. One person actually complained that there was too long of a time between postings. Well...thanks for your interest. I am stunned that anyone cares.

Most blogs are all about getting the word out about something: a person's music, art or a political agenda. No, I am not doing this selflessly for the betterment of humankind, but there is no agenda. Quite honestly, this is more about therapy for me. It helps me put this insane world in which we live into perspective. So thanks for reading. I hope to amuse.

GOOD FRIENDS
The fellow in the photo at the top with the strange expression is one of my best buds. I want to thank him for his friendship and for tolerating me for four days at his home. His wife and children are lovely as well. I had a great time-fantastic really.
He lives in a really rural area. I am used to city living and never being able to really see the sky, but boy where he lives there aren't any streetlights. The sky is incredible. To quote a movie, it's "real country dark." The first night, after we had a few "nightcaps," I got into my bed and could not see anything-not a thing in the room or outside. It was like floating in space (or was it something else?).

NOSTALGIA
After the rest of his family went to bed at a sensible hour, he and I would stay up way late and chat. Most of the time, we end up laughing until tears about something silly. Sometimes our sense of humor runs a bit bizarre. For some reason, we started talking about watching Don Kirshner's Rock Concert back in the '70's. Every week old Don's introduction of each act had this flat delivery: "Earth, Wind and Fire are one of today's most exciting soul acts. Here they are performing their hit...." If you are as old as me, you know what I'm talking about. It didn't matter who Don was introducing, it was the same thing: "Helen Reddy is one of today's most exciting soul singers with a hundred million gold records...."

After mocking dandy Don, we then jumped on poor Mac Davis-an all too frequent guest. Mr. Hairy Chest, tight blue jeans with Ovation guitar singing "Baby, Baby Don't Get Hooked On Me." I mean seriously, if there were a penalty for crimes against music, what would this guy get for that horrible song? Flogging? Hanging? Life without parole? His own theater in Branson, Missouri?

But what was really odd about this show was the eclectic programming. Perennial schmaltz favorites like Mac Davis and Helen Reddy were followed by the Mahavishnu Orchestra or The Police. Today, with all TV programming so carefully homogenized, this kind of show could never exist. Can you envision a meeting of the suits at CBS or NBC talking about the lineup for the show?

Clueless Executive No. 1: Helen Reddy, good. Mac Davis, hey I really like that guy.
Clueless no. 2: Whose dis Mah-ha-fish-soup fella?
Clueless no. 3: Never heard of 'em.
Clueless no.1: Can 'em. Next!

Another fabulous source of late night entertainment is one most of you already know about: www.youtube.com This one is a screamer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4C8Aslwhu44 It is surreal and really clever.

Though we really tried, no footage of Don Kirshner or Mac Davis was found. Perhaps that might have injured us. My ribs were sore from laughing already.

REUNIONS
Went to my first high school reunion on Saturday. Avoidance of these types of events comes so naturally for me. Actually I wasn't really invited because I didn't graduate from there, but since I had many friends attending, some I hadn't seen in decades, I ended up going anyway. My avoidance of these affairs is obvious: if I didn't stay in contact with you after high school and had no contact with you during college, why bother now? I know that sounds a bit grouchy, but I'll give you a for instance.

Upon arrival, I wandered over to where a few friends were gathered and this guy introduces himself to me. The light of recognition goes off in my aged brain and we shake hands. Now, here's a guy that probably spoke three words to me in high school (no offense-we just ran in different circles), but suddenly here we are playing catch-up. He's a nice guy and I didn't mind talking to him at all, but seriously....you where I'm going with this.

As the evening wore on, I saw an old nemesis. In nineth grade, this guy sprayed a can of Coke on my hair and then, if that wasn't enough, he gave me one square to the face after school. A complete sucker punch, didn't see it coming. I was so shocked (and quite frankly scared-this guy wrestled and played football) that I didn't react. I just got on my bike and pedaled home. Humiliation never comes in small doses. I never spoke to my parents about it, but it hurt my pride and self-esteem more than my jaw. I hadn't thought about it until that night.

I have this sort of generic golden rule about the past called "The Ten Year Rule." Any wrong that has been done to you that is over ten years old must be forgiven. NOT exactly the Sermon on the Mount, I know, a decade being a bit on the slow side of divinity and forgiveness, but it is something that I genuinely try to follow and even (gasp) offer to friends when appropriate (And when they are least likely to tell me to descend to the lower regions of hell fire and brimstone). But upon seeing that mine enemy had gotten very overweight, was totally gray haired and generally looked awful (plus he lives in a part of the valley that I consider is punishment enough), I felt a smug satisfaction roll over me. No need for platitudes and forgiveness-good old, outrightly mean human nature was fine.

A voice behind me: "They let just about anyone in this place." A friend I haven't touched base with for over two decades. This was one of the reasons I came.

The guy hasn't aged. Granted, the hair had the sparse flecks of gray, but he looks like he did in college. I asked if it was the sleeping in the hyperbaric chamber that made him look so young. A few Michael Jackson jokes later, we were trying to play catch-up.

The ice now broken, we tried to talk over the loud and wretched hits of the '70's, made worse by the crazed female DJ doing karaoke in between. Beer cups in hand, we took a brief stroll down days past. I have learned that we have a collective memory: what I fail to recall remains vivid in the minds of others and vice versa. I threw "Percy Mean and the Liquidators" at him. He just shook his head and laughed. You could almost see those memory cells flash, reaching for files long erased. Later people were recalling high school pranks with each person adding their own details to the story.

After the evening concluded, I gave my (photo) friend a ride back to his hotel. It was a short trip, but we spent some time just talking just sitting out in the parking lot.

So, here's to friends. Friendships that outlast junior high, high school, college and all the grown up stuff of middle age.

Cheers to good friends!