Any Velvet Will Do

Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crece la palma


Brother Rudy did a nice review with some photos. Thanks, man!

The Brothers Vel took the stage once again (I think this makes number six) for Live Mix's Halloween bash. It was the most impromptu gathering yet. We didn't talk about tunes until we were on stage. It's such an intimate venue anyway, so no sense hiding our distinct lack of preparation from the crowd. The Velvets have always had a distinct self-effacing sense of humor and it works for us. Many pros would tell you that this is a big no-no, but for us, honesty is always the best policy. It's what our listeners expect quite frankly. The chaos is part of the entertainment. (Hell, we even made drinks on stage with a blender one night and gave it a "solo." How many broken musician's union rules is that?)

A while back ago, I had an interest in what 2 guitars, a quatro and percussion would sound like and here I was, without planning, performing with this subset of the group. Actually, not to sound too cosmic, I had a picture of this group in my head for months. Though the bass was really missed, it was quite fun. That's Mr. Swizzle Sticks, Brian Young, on the drums. What an incredible player! He did a dazzling solo and promptly stole the show as far as I was concerned.

Chaos follows us. Guantamera was called in A, but this was deemed too high. F, which is practically the only key I sing in, was chosen. The tune is three chords traditionally, so what could go wrong? The number one thing in Latin music is rhythm. It doesn't matter that it's three chords, that's not the point. If the rhythm ain't there, you might as well be playing Freebird. Eventually, I figured out what rhythm we were all trying to play and locked in. Sheesh!

(The key of a song, for me, is something that is not all that malleable. I can remember keys of almost every song the band ever did. Now, lyrics are always an issue for me. Chord changes quite another, but keys remain in permanent long term memory.)

I truly missed my other bandmates, but this may be a jumping off point for a small group that can land smaller venues. I need to play both for financial and artistic reasons.

Eventually, I hope the full group can get it together to play at the Empty Glass and maybe a few private parties, until then it's solo, duet and even quartet gigs.

Any Velvet will do.

Pretty Leaves and Boney Freeze

The Dynamic Duo once again traveled to Fayetteville to Smokeys On the Gorge to play yet another bone chilling wedding. Last time, Lisa shivered and shook, so she prepared by wearing layers including a coat, scarf and gloves with holes cut for the fingertips. Even then, the wind cut right through. Damn. One man looked her straight in the eye and smugly remarked, "It's not that cold." The gentleman, and I use that term loosely, had not been out on the cold for over thirty minutes holding a metal rod (which leeches the warmth from your hands) all in the vain effort to play music. People are cattle.

She had been driven nuts by the wedding party, the father in particular. Normally, you can make arrangements by phone or by attending the rehearsal the night before, but these folks insisted on a sit-down at her house. For what seemed days, she answered questions, played her flute and explained all the pertinent details. Then, the family asked, "What if you can't make it at the last minute? What if something happens to you?" Dumbfounded. Never been asked that one before. Let me consult my crystal ball.

Then they had a rain plan. A very reasonable idea, but there's was to call us on the day of the wedding and tell us whether the ceremony was to take place at a church or at Smokeys. Logistically, this would mean that both the church and Smokeys would have to be decorated in time. We never did get a call, but later found out that the florists had put a stop on the duel decorating idea. Besides, after meeting them, they were clearly gay and we know gay doesn't do sloppy decorating. It's a wedding people, not a fire drill.

Smokeys is high on a mountain overlooking the New River Gorge. To have a wedding outside late October is a complete gamble, especially atop a mountain. When we left Charleston, it was in the 60's, but as soon as we arrived, the chill crept into your body. There was easily a ten to fifteen degree difference and the sun appeared to have other plans that day. I abandoned the idea of my suit jacket and opted for a thick sweater I had brought just in case. Turns out, it was a smart move.

When you are a duet playing for a public event, you must remember that if someone can walk on or over your equipment they will. If you play flute, you stand a good chance of getting your teeth knocked out. People are cattle at these events, mindlessly plodding into or onto anything. We are invisible. We took a position directly outside the door leading down to the deck. We put our amps in front of us in order to project the sound to the deck below and to create a barrier that hopefully would discourage people from walking on our stuff. We even put up a music stand and the dolly to create a solid wall between the amps. Sure enough, a woman decided that instead of walking a few more steps, she would just amble over. Unreal. I am convinced that if Lisa was not standing there, more people would have done this.

The sky was gray, little bits of drizzle and sudden Arctic blasts were the norm, except for one moment. The minister said the Irish blessing to the couple and just as he said, "May the sun shine on your faces and the sky be blue above you", as if on cue, the sun transformed the scene into warmth and light. People collectively gasped. The minister reiterated "the sky being blue above" one more time for a welcome laugh. Then, it was back to deep blue freeze.

After the ceremony, we played some jazz and with each tune, it got colder and windier until our final tune was just a joke. All sensible people were warm inside while the idiot musicians played to no one and fulfilled the remainder of their contracted service. I finally declared that I was frozen and had no more music to play. It was ridiculous, but this is what we mighty gigsters do for money. We have to. It's a pain, but the pay is good. It makes up for the indecision and craziness of wedding families. And the blue freeze.

We were hoping for some food and beverage afterwards, but all the food was taken away by the time we finished. The father of the bride had given us a check, the wedding party was being introduced and it was clearly time to leave. (You should never expect food, but like the hungry scavengers we are, sometimes it's good to get a little extra. It's payback for the humiliation, you see.)

Humiliation? What? You ungrateful bastard! Let me enlighten you.

SIDEBAR: A bandmate of mine revealed this little tale to me and it fits perfectly. He spent an evening at the home of a fellow Latino and his wife. After dinner, they played music from their native country and it must have sounded good because my friend innocently suggested that they play out somewhere. The look of insult on their faces was quite clear. He had crossed a line. It was as if he had just suggested dessert and a three-way. The man worked for Dow or some place like that and how could he stoop so low as to play music in public? My friend was truly hurt and astounded by this attitude. You see, people truly think like this. They may patronize musicians and even admire them, but in some circles, they are no more than low-life beggars.

Back to our humble tale.

We cranked up the heat and headed on 19 South. I was beat. The cold had really gotten me this time around. I was happy to head home.

The road hummed along, the heater keeping us toasty, I started to reflect privately about my so-called career as a musician. What strange and unexpected paths. No ivory tower for me. Nope. Lisa and I have been doing this for a long, long time. I think of us as front liners, seasoned pros who go where we're told, as long as the money is right. I'm absolutely sure that some of our ilk would think themselves above such a common gig as a wedding. (I could name names, but I don't need to make my point that way.) I don't have the luxury of such a position and I am proud of what I do. Besides, all of this is good blog fodder.

On Sunday, I felt fine all day until evening when I sensed something had gotten a hold of me. At bedtime, I got hit with the chills. I shook and shivered under the covers. Body aches and fever followed. One more parting gift from playing outside on a mountain in late fall.

Robey, Where Art Thou?

Sci Fi channel, now SyFy, has established itself for very lame original programming guaranteed to disappoint. Anyone remember the ads for Ice Spiders? And forget about zombies.

You can count on them for Twilight Zone marathons and the occasional rerun of Friday the 13th:The Series.

This series had nothing to do with the hockey masked mass murderer Jason, but producer Frank Mancuso, who had done Friday the 13th part deux, shamelessly used the name to attract viewers. Bad or good, it worked. In fact, you can find fansites for a show that went off the air nearly twenty years ago.

For a quick review: Cheap and cheesy, but sometimes creepy with some interesting story lines. The acting is oft over-the-top and the budget seemed very low, but it has just enough moments to make it very enjoyable.

SyFy has been sporadically running mini-thons of this Canadian horror lite series. Since this aired '87 to '90, I began to wonder what happened to the actors.

The lovely "Micki", always listed simply as Robey, Louise Robey was the eye candy for the series. With her huge, I mean '80s huge, flaming red hair, the series benefited more from her looks than acting ability. Robey has her own website which looks clunky and stuck in a time warp. Here we can hear her music (???), read her lyrics (???)and generally learn that she is working on new "projects." Of the three central actors, she seems to have done the least with acting.

The show's anchor was Chris Wiggins who played Jack Marshak. I thought I sensed The Bard and then I read, "Member of the prestigious Stratford Festival Acting Company in 1960 playing the roles in Romeo and Juliet, and in A Midsummer Night's Dream"." Wiggins brought a sense of gravitas and when you think about it, there should always be someone in a horror series who brings a seriousness to the story line. His filmography is quite long and varied.

For two seasons or the three, Ryan Dallion (groovy name, eh?), played by John D. LeMay, was Micki's cousin. I always thought their on-screen chemistry belied a real life relationship, but maybe that's just speculation. LeMay is still in the industry in some decent movies, but not any major roles.

The character that replaced Ryan in the third season, Johnny Ventura, I never really cared for. he was all blank looks and cockiness.

We watched an episode last night and both of us commented on the washed out look of the series and the sometimes grainy picture. Not sure if it's just our ratty TV, or the transfer is just bad.

All three seasons have been released on DVD.

Ain't nothing wrong with traveling down memory lane. Even better when it's free.

Many light years ago, I was a young lad living in the rural hills of Pennsylvania. Channel 11 brought a treat every Saturday night in the form of Chiller Theater. This, as you could imagine, warped the impressionable mind of a young viewer.

Bill "Chilly Billy" Cardille, a Pittsburgh icon, hosted the show with tongue firmly planted in cheek. The skits were always bad, bad, bad. Going on the air in '63, I cannot remember when I began to watch, but I would guess the late '60s. If you read the comments on the Chiller posts on YouTube, you see that many people have great memories of this show. I remember staying up with my dad, probably way past any normal kid's bedtime, and watching these wacky movies.Sometimes even he would go to bed and leave me alone to watch. Now that, some scary stuff kids!

My wife swears up and down that my memory on a daily basis is like a sieve and this is true, but I swear I can remember many of these movies listed here. What's on the grocery list? Can't tell you. The plot of Attack of the Crab Monsters? What do you want to know? The Crawling Eye? Oh yeah.

Bill's son has the smarts now to offer segments from the show on DVD on Cardille's website.

"Joe Flaherty, a Pittsburgh native, acknowledges this show as an influence in the formation of the popular "Monster Chiller Horror Theatre" sketches on SCTV."

Go See It

It is really a rare treat that I get out to the big screen, but if zombie is in the title, then I gotta see it.

Zombieland was everything I expected. Very funny and full of zombie madness. No spoilers here.

Just go and prepare to laugh

and cringe.

Darn That Dream

As I stated, I rarely dream any more, but last night I had what can only be described as wishful dreaming. Unlike the last dream, there are no old girlfriends in this one unfortunately.

I dreamed that Father Rich, a man who truly walks the talk, was coming back to my former place of employment for a one and a half year assignment. This caused me to think, "One and half years? Damn! We just might get ahead." I would jump at the chance to work if Rich was there.

Regulars readers of this blog (all two of them) might recall the fiasco of how my place as music minister was cut short by the workings of one Father Dismas. Rather than walk down negative lane again, suffice it to say that his boss found lots of money in an out-of-town account. Money he had taken from the church.

So, with Father Rich back, I could have gone back and maybe, just maybe, we might have a better chance at having a budget that isn't shot to hell even before we begin to spend a nickel. This is indeed wishful dreaming.

The priesthood, from my perspective, seems to be a bit like being in the military. You are given an assignment (a parish) for a maximum (depending on who you talk to) of six to eight years. Now, your priest or pastor might have been the good shepherd of your church for a lot longer than that, but it depends. The Franciscans are a little bit different than your average pastor and they have been a part of my old church's history since the beginning. You do not return to a previous post.

I met the man currently in charge at my old church. After several genuine apologies for his predecessor's bad behavior, I inquired about a job. Nay. Despite glowing recommendations and nary a bad word said about me, there is no job. I have to admit, this stung a bit. He talked about me coming to church, joining it, and then being put into some kind of advisory position. You have to ask yourself what kind of self-esteem would I have to accept this bread crumb. Uh, no thanks. I cannot tell you what was in his head to even suggest this. I may suggest that I bring with me, through no fault of my own, the shadow of deeds done by the former priest. He wants a clean slate, a new administration. There is no democracy in the church. It's what Father wants. And so it is.

Catholics like to live in the world of the volunteer. They still think this way, despite the fact that the world has changed in the forty years since folk groups were run by volunteering moms and dads. This may also be the reason. Why pay for music?

So now, despite our financial distress, there are compensations. I get to sleep in on Sundays, my Saturdays are free, and I get the whole weekend to myself. I even get Christmas eve! No running out the door to rehearsals, endless extra services and the politics of church.

Still, the dream suggest I secretly want to return to the job. Dreams never lie.

Darn that dream.

Got to Keep the Loonies On the Path

"I am not the most knowledgable of your listeners but I do enjoy all the music. Some time ago you played Pink Floyd by the London Philharmonic. I was of the mond-set that carpmentalized musicians and was pleasantly surprised to hear this music on classical radio. Could you play some of that again? Thank you."

When I saw that Performance Today had a quote by Fripp and John Cage, I got excited. I posted the link on DGM's website. This was the response.


"18.10 On the Guestbook…RF in Performance Today post
:: Posted by eclecticguy on September 16, 2009Performance Today has a post where Robert’s quote is used.


But not quite the quote."


Huh. Isn't there a "thank you" missing?

Who's In Charge?

Proving again that Mother Nature is in charge. It looks like something out of an apocalyptic movie.

On a lighter note, the Oktoberfest started! Beer makes people happy.

Zombie Nation

Starz is going to broadcast a documentary starting in October about the zombie phenomenon.

I first watched Romero's 1968 b&w classic on Chiller Theater, hosted by Bill Cardille. The 1978 classic, Dawn of the Dead, which I saw as a college student, was shocking. We drove the long and dark Route 88 back to school more than a little creeped out.

Romero has used zombies as metaphors for our mindless consumerism. Personally, I see them as representations of our true selves. Unhindered by laws, rules, morality, ethics, our animalistic natures are unleashed. Most of the time, I just enjoy the pretend carnage.

Whatever the attraction, the zombie genre doesn't seem to be going away soon.

"True"-ly Hooked

We are usually pretty late when it comes to jumping on any TV bandwagon. In fact, we watched only one episode of HBO's True Blood series, thought it trite and moved on. The whole vampire-as-cool-love-interest story line seemed a bit thin. Neither of us liked it.


It wasn't until a friend loaned us their season one DVD set that changed our outlook. When you get to watch an entire season on DVD, you get a lot more out of it. You also get drawn in like an addict. We are as red hot addicted as V mixed with Red Bull.

The very first smart thing creator Alan Ball did was to bring the whole vampire legacy right down to earth. This is no Lord Valmont in ruffles and smoking jacket complete with castle, howling wolves and thick Slavic accents. This is vamps in Hickville, y'all!

The main focus being on the Louisiana town of Bon Temps (ironically "good times") and the central character, Sookie Stackhouse (played by Anna Paquin). Sookie is a waitress at the local redneck bar and grille. Her life is very uncomplicated until Bill (Yes, you read that right) walks in. There is the inevitable scene where Bill the vamp tries to look all pale, mysterious, and the ubiquitous dark and brooding. But this isn't "Velcome to dee castle Dracoola." Vampires have come out of the coffin and want to be accepted by human society. Yep. Vamps have been "living" among the locals for a while. Hell, they even have a Republican looking publicist going on the news to argue for their undead rights.

Of course, the vamps act all imperial, emotionless and ruthless. They believe themselves to be the higher form of beings, calling people "cows" and "blood sacks." Whether they have a plan for world domination, that remains to be seen. One things for sure: they don't care about us with one exception: Bill.

As the first season progressed, the number of story lines grew and so did the preposterousness, but one thing anchors it all: the believable human characters (great cast) and the down-to-earth dialogue. When a friend confesses to Sookie that he is a shape shifter, she shouts in perfect white trash southern drawl:

"Shut the fuck up!"



If I tried to explain it, it would sound so silly. True Blood is great entertainment with some truly creepy moments, not all of which are supplied by "fangers." Fangs aren't the only deadly forces about sleepy swamptown.

But the air around Bon Temps suggests there are other equally powerful dark forces at work. The mysterious Maryann Forrester for instance. What the hell is she? Can creepy and hot exist in one body? You betcha.

Don't dare tell me. No spoilers please.

# 9 Dream

"Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?"

I have no idea why, but I rarely dream anymore. This one was weird.

A Velvet gig was going to happen. The bar was right around the corner. I kept thinking to myself, "I don't know if we start at 8 or 8:30?" (This is preposterously too early for any gig, but dreams contain both the sublime and the ridiculous.) I looked up at a clock and saw that it was 10:20 something. Boy, am I late. I kept thinking I need to just grab my amp and guitar and zoom into the club.

Scence change.

A long ago girlfriend is lying in bed. The cover is white and is pulled up to her neck. She shivers.

"Are you cold?"

She nods yes.

I crawl into bed and then my mind goes to the gutter: she is nude underneath those covers.

Poof. The alarm goes off and it's time to get ready for work.

Just when the dream was getting good.

Damn.

Got One, Got One, Everybody's Got One

You got one, don't ya?

[Click the picture]

When I was a twenty-something, it seemed my whole world revolved about talking endlessly about music. How this music is better than that music. It was my personal crusade to change the minds of those who were not enlightened.

How things have changed. How little things have changed.

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to teach a "college" music appreciation class to high school kids. This school being GW, from my experience an upper middle to upper class school, the kids were relatively behaved. However during the first week, a blond girl in the back was interrupting with her constant chatter. There is always the boisterous one, isn't there? Back in the day, it might have been me.

After I played some Gregorian chant, which to her probably sounded like droning boredom, she made this proclamation: "You are never going to get me to like this music. I never will." She said this with a smile that was smug, to be sure. She had gotten me. Or so she believed.

In one of my most rare moments of clarity, I paused and thought for a moment. Then I said with perfect calm: "Miss, I am not here to entertain you. I am here to educate you." The class erupted with oohs and aahs, but she had no reply. I have never been more eloquent.

I still go on tirades. Yes, ask my wife. The CMAs, VMAs and MTV award shows I now can watch with very few snide remarks. I see them as a display of the industry's thoroughbreds. A pretty pony show with glitter, glam and the show of skin. Sometimes, there are performances that transcend the event-something actually happens up on the stage besides lipsyncing and great dancing. These moments are rare as royalty checks to musicians.

There will always be "tween" music to annoy adults, success and fame to artistes who are barely literate, let alone competent musicians and a merciless industry that views music as "content" or "product" that views the authors and performers of those products as gullible-too stupid to realize how badly they are being ripped off.

Am I being too harsh here?

Last night, it was classic. Miley Cyrus was live via satellite on Jay Leno. He asks ten questions to the guest. Knowing just a little about Leno's style, I would gaurantee that the celebrity has no prior knowledge of these questions. There she was, acting like a brat (my wife said the b word), and the lack of concern was obvious. When asked how many seats the venue she was about to play had, she did not know. She looked off camera to someone for the answer. Think about it: she had to have a publicist there to answer silly questions by Jay. The final question was to name as many of her dad's songs as she could within 10 seconds. She named four; two of which her offscreen assistant helped her with. All the publicity machines in the world could not disquise this simple fact: she ain't the brightest bulb in the hardware store. With her wealth, why should she care? She's already set for life. She'll do the Brittany-sexpot route next, along with some more medicore movies until the Miley machine runs out of gas due to public disinterest.

Don't worry, there's always a pack of newer, prettier faces ready to replace her.

To quote Hemingway:

And yet

What can I do

To set things right?

Support local and national musicians by buying tickets, CDs and playing them on my radio show. That's about all I can do. But at least it's something.

And still go on tirades.

More Signs of Intelligent Life in the Fripp Universe

From the Freep diary-

Airhead post on the forum:
18.13 Actual formation!
:: Posted by paisdepoetas006j on August 29, 2009

The Chilean people want a concert. They demand KC and that with the legitimate incarnation. And, they won’t budge. When will you please play for them?

Fripp's unusually polite answer-



This question has been addressed in this Diary before. Questions for this poster, please:
1. What is the legitimate incarnation?
2. What repertoire would they play?
3. Why would the members want to do this? For example: what other projects & undertakings would / should they give up to perform in Chile?
4. What is involved in bringing together the members of that incarnation?This includes syncing calendars, rehearsal times & places, equipment shipping, technical support & personnel including wages, shipping all of the above to Chile with flights.
5. Which promoter & venues?

* * *

In short, how in the f*** are we going to play in Chile, dude?

Who's Going?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-cIjPOJdFM

http://www.zombieland.com/

This looks like a riot.

It's a horror-comedy or a horromedy about one of my favorite obsessions-zombies.

Technically, these are not Romeroesque undead zombies, but rather infected people who are still living, but going haywire on humanity. Oh yeah. Dystopian chaos.

Who's going? Do we need to carpool? Rent a bus? Can we get a group rate?

Trying to Nail It

Perhaps I know human nature too well.

I hadn't heard from my star student all summer. At the end of last semester, he informed me that he wanted to learn classical guitar. Our brief lesson about how to pluck a string with the index finger over, I told him to call me when he really he needed help.

Silence all summer until the fall.

"I cut off all my nails." was his opening salvo. Uh-oh. In an instant, I knew the story. He need not tell me anything.

Part of my job is to play amateur psychologist and figure what what a student is really saying.

"You got frustrated, didn't you?" He didn't look at me when he answered, "Yeah. Frustrated as hell."

In short, starting classical guitar is a real bitch; especially for guitarists who have some playing experience. It asks that you short circuit your musical life and concentrate on mundane things like finger nails, posture, arm and hand angles, etc. It takes you back to that lonely and difficult square one. The place you thought long left behind.

[Sidebar: A older guitarist told me he was tired of banging out rockabilly in clubs and it was time to seriously study classical guitar.

We met, had a very nice chat and then he played for me. He tried some Bach. (My hat goes off to to the self-taught, but when you enter the Bach arena, you must be trained or be Segovia.) There were mistakes everywhere, but when it was all over, I was very encouraging. I tried to summarize what he needed to do in order to change his technique. We had four lessons and after the fourth I got a call. He had come to the conclusion that he could not devote the time necessary to change the many bad habits he had acquired. I felt he had given up too soon, but at least he was sensible and honest enough to not waste both our time.]

That's just one example in a very long line of students who realize the work ahead of them and soon depart from study. I can hardly blame them. Besides the work, the taking away of your musical identity, it's the most marginalized form of guitar playing in the world. Guitar gods play electric thunderbolts, strutting upon stadium stages with millions of hungry, entranced fans. Watch a guy who plays a soft and mellow acoustic while sitting perfectly still? Boring. We play antiques; the music from museums. Some would say that the majority of the repertoire is mediocre anyway. Did Mozart write a note for it? Nope. Even Beethoven, who called it a "miniature orchestra," left nothing, not a scrap nor sketch. We don't play orchestral instruments, but rather charming and quaint "salon" curios. It's an instrument from a much quieter and infinitely slower world.

Author Glenn Kurtz nailed it in his wonderful book. Listen to an interview. Very poignant. The guitar has always caused controversy and suspicion by those who hold the keys to high culture. We are ushered in like hired help, to soothe the digestive machinations of dignitaries and nothing more.

Still, it is beautiful and the sound has always been intoxicating for me. It comes with a real quid pro quo: long fingernails.

On the plucking hand, the nails must be grown out so that the proper tone can be elicited. These must be shaped properly, kept in good condition and at the proper length and generally protected during daily activities. Break a nail and your whole sound changes immensely.

You can go a little bit crazy about this stuff too.

To say that some guitarists have an almost fetishized fascination/obsession with their finger nails is almost too harsh to say, but very true. I remember one guy named Philip at Peabody who excitedly told us about a new product he had discovered. Sally Hanson's Nail Buff is what I think it was called. We all went out and got one. For weeks, we all had shiny, perfectly smooth nails. It started out for the right hand and soon the left was equally glossy.

I have had these annoying additions for at least thirty-two years. When I was younger, it was an embarrassment. I consciously hid them from people. I was ashamed of them.

My brother would call them "girly" and constantly badgered me to cut them and be "a regular guy." I can cite at least two instances which caused me romantic disfavor among the fairer sex. One girl was gorgeous who never gave me the time of day in high school, but in the context of a noisy bar and full tilt beer consumption, things were going well. When she saw my nails, she shook her head in a jerking motion as if what she had seen did not compute. She quite quickly bailed. Cursed ruination of my love life! That happened with another gal and her reation was about the same: repulsion.

Sometimes during a summer vacation, I would cut them all off just to be rid of them. Freedom! No more cumbersome appendages. And a chance to look normal. I self-consciously displayed my hands as if to say, "You see? I'm a regular guy."

Now, being older has one distinct advantage: I don't give a damn. I don't think about it.

So back to the beginning story.

What's the student going to do? I don't know. It's up to him. Very few stick with it. We shall see.

But cutting them all off in frustration is not a good start.

You only do that on vacation!

Mystery Without the Pomp

We have taken to watching Inspector Lewis on the PBS. While I can dig the penguin-like Hercule Poirot and his fastidious eccentricities played perfectly by David Suchet, and of course, the master of all mysteries, Sherlock Holmes, Lewis is an altogether a different cup of tea.

Typically, you get a lot of tea and oh-so-British pomp with PBS mysteries or even mini-series. As much as I love the UK, as I am a confirmed Anglophile, even I get a little annoyed at the Miss Marple-ish British pomposity of "Oh, Reginald! Be a darling and see if you can find my crochet mallet. Would you, dear? Thank you." Americans are portrayed as bold and boorish "sods" with loud voices whose love of money precludes them ever possibly understanding the finer things in life, let alone any manner of civility.

Set in Oxford, Lewis hates all the academia; especially the prevailing smugness of professors. He's a working class bloke, you see. Nothing fancy about him. For years Lewis served as Inspector Morse's foil; played brilliantly by John Thaw. Morse, a very erudite and cultured man, constantly brushed shoulders with people who thought him a common beat cop.

Lewis is older now; the senior officer now perfectly paired with DS James Hathaway. Once again, Lewis is a bit puzzled by all manner of literary allusions, but Hathaway is both cerebral and street smart.

So, skip the pomp of tea-and-biscuit Brit mystery. Lewis is great series.

The Boys From the Fifth Floor

I am so proud of these guys. They even made the local paper.

Brian, Kai and Greg have a dream. Right now, it's kind of a funky, slightly less-than-perfect dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Live Mix has been host to mine and Greg's big 5-0 birthday parties and all the Velvet Brother reunions. Speaking to Vel-bro Al on Wednesday, I said, "That makes four Velvet gigs, right?"

He paused, rolled the thought around his head and then answered: "I'm not sure you would call those gigs."

That sent us laughing. Never underestimate Al's sense of humor because that statement has a lot of implications.

I have know the Live Mix guys for a number of years now, Greg being the longest. When I first took the retro-vader up to floor five, it was your typical musician's rehearsal space: clutter everywhere. Brian was in a hard rock group (for lack of a better descriptive term) and his band had all their stuff set up. Listening to some tapes of his band, I realized how far afield my nylon string mellowness sounded a bit Kenny-G-ish along side their aggressive sound. The place had that young, male, musician frat kind of vibe. It was pretty disorganized, to be polite. I thought it was a great rehearsal space, but didn't imagine it would last this long.

Things have changed. The place has a great vibe and looks great. For musicians, it's a great place because it's being run by musicians. That fact alone makes it very appealing.

I like all the wacky incongruity: Custom speakers from the 70's, albums line the walls, a bit of this and a bit of that.

Lots of people have ideas. Ideas abound. It's really saying something when you commit to an idea and make it work. That's exactly what has happened here.

So, congrats, guys.

http://www.dailymail.com/Entertainment/200908261044

Musicians create multimedia studio downtown
Studio hosts live events, can seat 100 people
by Monica Orosz
Daily Mail staff

Tom Hindman
Brian Young, at soundboard, Greg Wegmann, to his left, and Kai Haynes, at rear, opened Live Mix Studio in space on Quarrier Street two years ago and began outfitting it with hand-me-down and scavenged equipment and furnishings. But bringing together decades of experience with music and technology, they offer multimedia production services and host musical events.


CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- A trip up the elevator at 1033 Quarrier Street to the fifth floor is a bit of a time warp experience - a step back in time blended with modern technology.
The space, outfitted on the thinnest of shoestrings - and perhaps some out-and-out trashpicking - is home to Live Mix Studio LLC.

It is a place where $2 light fixtures, hand-me-down 1970s Kustom brand speakers, patched-together computer equipment and a hand-me-down video program from a DJ are used for audio-video wizardry.

The guys behind Live Mix are Kai Haynes, 59; Greg Wegmann, 50; and Brian Young, 41. All three are longtime musicians. Wegmann and Young have added computer and video expertise from their day jobs. When they began this venture two years ago, the idea was to create a space where they could offer multimedia services and have a little musical fun.

Want a music video? They can do that. Want to produce an infomercial? They can do that, too. Need an old VHS tape converted to DVD? Yup.

They're currently editing some dance footage for January Johnson's dance academy and recently completed an infomercial for a guy who invented a hat he calls the Bi-Vi - two visors patched together so there's a bill on the front and the back.

"He's a construction worker and his ears were getting sunburned," Haynes explained.
They helped Charleston resident Donna Edmondson, a former Hee Haw Honey of the television show "Hee Haw," convert some VHS tapes and update some footage for her Web site.
The equipment may not look fancy, but it does the job.

"We can do multi-track recording up to 16 tracks," Wegmann pointed out. "We're trying to go global," he adds, and he's not really kidding. What the heck, this is the Internet age.
The space itself is surprisingly conducive to good sound, with acoustic tile ceilings, carpeting and large sets of bookcases their landlord stipulated had to stay.

"It actually creates one of the greatest (sound) disbursement walls," Young said.

Live Mix has hosted musical events such as Deni Bonet's recent visit back to West Virginia and last weekend's gig with Option 22 and The Clementines. Canadian Fingerstyle Champion guitarist Craig D'Andrea has been there twice.

The space includes several rooms that offer seating - a patchwork of folding chairs, scavenged sofas and donated barstools - for about 100 people.

Equipment came together from a variety of sources - it's amazing what people will give you if you ask.

"A lot of times someone will say, 'Can you fix this?' If you can fix it, you can have it,' " Young said.

The circa-1970s Kustom speakers, used in a room off the main stage, are perfectly serviceable, if clunky as all get out.

"They're so big, they don't fit in a conventional car anymore," Young said. A sound board came from a church. Other speakers and microphones came from the musicians' own cache of supplies.
A giant boardroom table was cut down for the stage. A large screen behind is used for screening a program that changes colors and shapes as the musicians play. It's a somewhat antiquated program Young got from a DJ, but it works.

"It's some old DOS program," he said, loading it up on an old laptop - Wegmann contributed that. "Don't make fun of my Windows '95," he cheerfully added.

Mind the decorative touches, too - colorful cellophane tones down harsh fluorescent lights and a 75-cent leopard-print lampshade adds a touch of whimsy to a floor lamp. Old album covers - remember those? - are tucked into shelves that line rooms.

"And we're looking for a turntable, if anyone has one to donate," Young said.

The control room is a tangle of screens, soundboards and cords.

"We are active recyclers of crap," Young said.

They find a use for most things they dig up. An early 1980s projector stands atop a refrigerator in one room, ready to flip on during a performance. If a visitor has popped in to get a drink, he can still see the band's performance projected on the wall.

"It has been an adventure," Young said. "It's almost like electric Lincoln Logs."

Contact writer Monica Orosz at http://www.dailymail.com/Entertainment/contact/zbavpn+qnvylznvy+pbz+return=/Entertainment/200908261044 or 304-348-4830.
FYI
For information on Live Mix Studio services and events, e-mail http://www.dailymail.com/Entertainment/contact/yvirzvkfghqvb+tznvy+pbz+return=/Entertainment/200908261044 or call Kai Haynes, 304-345-9145; Greg Wegmann, 304-395-0675; or Brian Young, 304-342-1244.

Even More!

I don't know what's happened at the university, but the message I'm getting is: DON'T PARK ANYWHERE YOU BASTARD!

2009
Fall Semester
Parking Guidelines

Students, faculty and staff may park on campus after properly registering their vehicle and by displaying an authorized University parking permit. Students may obtain their parking permit in the Student Solutions Center in Room # 206 Riggleman Hall. Faculty and Staff may obtain their permit from the Security Office, Room # 104 in Geary Student Union. Student permits are to be placed on the bottom, right-hand corner of the rear windshield outside of the vehicle. Faculty/Staff will receive mirror hang tags. Permits must be displayed in the designated spot at all times while on campus. Only one permit will be issued per vehicle. Expired permits are not valid and should be removed. Vehicles displaying expired permits will be cited for “no permit”.

Permits

Faculty/Staff (F/S) - Purple and white hang tag
One tag is issued per employee and it may be transferred to multiple cars. A validation sticker will be issued each academic period and must be affixed to the hang tag. Validation stickers can be obtained at the Security Office in GSU Room 104. Newly registered F/S members will be provided a current validation sticker along with their new hang tag.

Commuter Students – Red
Each commuter student will be issued no more than two parking permits.

Freshman Residential Students - Dark Green
All freshman residential students will receive an assigned parking permit. The parking lots for these students are located at Triana Field and NiSource (see attached map). Security cameras are in place to provide added protection for students and vehicles. Security will also conduct routine car patrols, especially during the night hours and provide escorts if needed.

Resident Students – Dark Blue
Each resident student will be issued one parking permit.

Shuttle service will be available to and from these lots on Monday – Friday between the hours of 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. Clinical faculty and students traveling to and from clinical sites are encouraged to use the campus shuttle during weekdays.

When the shuttle van is not operating students may call the Safety & Security Department’s 24 hour voice pager, 304.348.0001 to request an escort to and from a lot.

Assigned parking guidelines:

Monday through Friday between the hours of 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. the (assigned) vehicles must be parked at either the 19th Street parking lot or the NiSource parking lot.

Assigned vehicles may be parked on other campus lots at the following times:

- Weekday evenings from 6 p.m. - 8 a.m.
- Weekends - beginning Friday evening at 6 p.m. and ending Monday morning at 8 a.m.

Vehicles with an assigned parking pass on other campus lots Monday-Friday from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. will be ticketed and/or towed.

More Orders From On High

I submit, without alteration, this email. It needs no explanation.

From: Rinchich, Jack

Sent: Tuesday, August 25, 2009

1:28 PMTo: Admin; faculty

Subject: 2009 - 2010 Parking Permits (Faculty & Staff)

Importance: High

SPECIAL INFORMATION REGARDING F/S PARKING PERMITS

Faculty and Staff members (who have been issued a Purple and White mirror hang tag) do not need to complete a new blue registration form unless there has been some change in their vehicle status. Note: To (update) your existing F/S hang-tag simply bring your hang-tag to the Security Office to obtain a small (2009-2010) validation sticker to be placed over the old date on your hang-tag. Hang-tags not displaying the 2009-2010 validation sticker will be regarded as “EXPIRED” and cited accordingly. All (old decal) Faculty/ Staff permits that stick to the outside of the window are “OBSOLETE” and “INVALID” . Cars displaying the old decal permits will be cited as having “No Permit”.

New Faculty / Staff members or existing Faculty / Staff members (who have not been issued a purple and white hang-tag) must complete a blue registration form and bring it to the Security Office to obtain both a new hang-tag (and a 2009-2010 validation sticker).

Faculty / Staff members are the only persons issued a (mirror hang-tag). All student permits are window decals. Students must obtain their permits from the Student Solutions Center in Riggleman Hall. All Faculty / Staff permits are issued at the Campus Security Office. Note: The new location of the Security Officer is on the 1st floor of GSU (adjacent to the Bookstore). All Faculty / Staff members are encouraged to register their vehicles as soon as practical. A (very short) window or grace period will be provided to accomplish this. After this brief grace period patrol officers will be issuing citations for “No Permit”.

(FYI) During routine patrols this week it has been observed that some (empty parking spaces) have been available on the (Brotherton Hall Parking Lot). As an option you may wish to check the Brotherton Hall Lot for possible empty parking spaces if other areas are full.

Thank you!

Chief Jack Rinchich
Dept. of Safety & Security