Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Bruford Has Retired

"I called Carolyn into my room for a second opinion. She said something about it not seeming much after all those years of graft and went back to the kitchen licking the spoon.

This was the worst thing – there was no gold watch in this game. I should have liked one of those. Presented with that bauble, the mothballed colliery worker, the creaky security guard, and the dusty academic with the elbow patches on his Lovett tweed jacket could all put a line underneath their lives’ work and move on.

But that seems beyond us in the music business, which requires that, like Sir Cliff Richard and Donny Osmond,we are all Peter Pans, forbidden to grow old. I have to write a book before I can move on."

That's the opening of Bill's new book from his webby where you can read chapter one.

I am kinda sad and excited at the same time. NO Bruford?? Unthinkable. It's wrong on every level. Bruford has been an inspiration for many years. No musician worth their salt can hear Bruford without recognizing his fresh, innovative approach and distinctive sound. No musician I want to talk to anyway.

I am excited because I can read what is looking like a delightful, funny, honest and well-written biography.
I love the Crimson and Yes years, but when he made the record with Ralph Towner and Eddie Gomez, that sealed the deal. Towner, as brilliant and wonderful as he is, can get a little too dreamy sometimes and I thought Bruford brought just the right amount of rhythmic vitality to the project. Damn, I wish they'd make another record! That's not public performance, is it?? Come on, Bill. I am a selfish fan. My needs first!

More Bruford news ahead! Stay tuned to this blog.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Sour with the Sweet


You would figure with all this hero worshipping here that I wouldn't have anything negative to say about our old pal RF.

But it ain't so.

December 5, 1986 is the date of this Fripp and the Crafties concert in D.C.

I can't imagine why she agreed to go, but my girlfriend Susan and me headed down to Georgetown to see RF and company in concert. My head was full of the Bruford-Levin-Belew lineup and was really excited to see this man live.

The room had no chairs, but only scattered cushions on the floor. This set the stage for the weirdness that was to follow.

When the ensemble filed out, we graced them with applause. They bowed, but instead of taking a seat, they stood there. Now in silence, each member of the ensemble took the time to make eye contact with each one of us. The silence was full, swollen and awkward. Then, after that they took a seat. What was the purpose of the stare-a-thon? It was weird and stupid.

Fripp then became MC and started with a light and humorous introduction to the concert. The music which followed was very much of a Frippian imagination: mathematical, odd time signatures, repetitive figures, and melodies that never quite reach a grace, but remain a rhythmic counterpoint to the shifting cycles around them. While I was impressed with the creativity and the flawless execution, it bordered on stiff, too considered and lacked warmth. This was not music making of joy, but like the title, one of craft.

At one point, the Bespeckled One stood and turned as if to play directly to each section of the room. I remember him dropping a note or two. No cause for alarm and certainly no stones cast from me, but it told me that Robert's true instrument is the electric guitar not the Ovation acoustic he held like a troubadour. It looked like one of these philosophy based gestures of musician communicating with the audience and oh what common humanity we share stuff. In short, it was awkward. You don't need to overdo it. Just play.

Then it happened. The event that made me quit listening to Crimson for years.

A young man was discreetly positioning himself to take pictures of the group. Fripp spotted him. He stopped and the group followed. Fripp stared, shook his head slowly and silently burned a hole in the man. The man's face went three shades of red.

"That was a violation." were the only words of admontion from the Great One. This head shaking and staring went on for what seemed an eternity. I was sickened. And although the concert went on with some very interesting musical ideas, the spirit of the concert was gone as far as I was concerned.

I felt that the punishment was too harsh and too prolonged. How can this man be so harsh on this poor kid? It was just a picture. That kid felt like shit. That soured me.

For many years, I didn't touch any Fripp solo album nor Crimson. Couldn't go near it.

Even to this day, when someone says "Let's go backstage and meet so-and-so," I cringe just a little. Like a small shiver. "No," I want to say, "I want to enjoy the music and not have the artist spoil it."

Separate the artist from the art. It's better that way, kids.

There is a Guitar Craft aphorism:

Act with courtesy. Otherwise, be polite.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Zombies Return in Romero's Latest

Romero is at it again.

I have to admit that I wasn't so happy with his last film.

By the by: the hardcore freaks at this page worship Monroeville Mall like it is a shrine. My cousin looked at me in disbelief when I told her this, but it is true. The history is connected to this film.

Proving that you just can't keep zombies down.

Or the cult that keeps them coming.

Friday, February 13, 2009

ex nihilo

I collect images from the web. Just stuff that grabs my eye.

No meaning, just cleaning out the closet.





























Thursday, February 12, 2009

Call Him Freep



Bobby has a new download on his site for those who are interested in his approach and philosophy. No matter if he goes "out there" a bit, I always get renewed and inspired by Mr. Fripp's lectures. Eccentric, rude to fans, an odd ball, control freak or none of the above, the man's intelligence and insight are astonishing. Not to mention he can rilly pick a gitar.

It's free, so no complaints about the annoying computer that interrupts at vital moments.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Those Damn Pictures

"Why do you put up those damn pictures?"

Valid question.

Answer: I like them.

The iPhone camera is not a great camera, but it's always close by. You have to hold it more steady than any other camera I own. You think you get a good shot and it turns out just a bit blurry.

Sometimes blurry is good. I like the shapes, lines and unexpected fusing of images. Abstract is good.



My cousin Jan's French bulldog. I am the dog whisperer.



These babies are pure sugar and creme. Not sure what they are called. Angel Turds?




Self-proclaimed "crazy sonofabitch." Very funny guy.