Pliny the Elder on Hedgehogs

 

Picked up Pliny last night and just reveled in his wildly discursive sentences, his wide curiosity.  The sheer force of certainty he applies to some very dubious propositions.  For example, here he is on hedgehogs.

Pliny the Elder, on Hedgehogs:

Hedgehogs also lay up food for the winter; rolling themselves on apples as they lie on the ground, they pierce one with their quills, and then take up another in the mouth, and so carry them into the hollows of trees. 

These animals also, when they conceal themselves in their holes, afford a sure sign that the wind is about to change from north-east to south.

When they perceive the approach of the hunter, they draw in the head and feet, and all the lower part of the body, which is covered by a thin and defenceless down only, and then roll themselves up into the form of a ball, so that there is no way of taking hold of them but by their quills. 

When they are reduced to a state of desperation, they discharge a corrosive urine, which injures their skin and quills, as they are aware that it is for the sake of them that they are hunted. 

A skilful hunter, therefore, will only pursue them when they have just discharged their urine. In this case the skin retains its value; while in the other case, it becomes spoilt and easily torn, the quills rotting and falling off, even though the animal should escape with its life. 

For this reason it is that it never moistens itself with this poisonous fluid, except when reduced to the last stage of desperation; for it has a perfect hatred for its own venomous distillation, and so careful is the animal, so determined to wait till the very last moment, that it is generally caught before it has employed this means of defence.

They force it to unroll itself, by sprinkling warm water upon it, and then, suspended by one of its hind legs, it is left to die of hunger; for there is no other mode of destroying it, without doing injury to its skin. 

This animal is not, as many of us imagine, entirely useless to man. If it were not for the quills which it produces, the soft fleece of the sheep would have been given in vain to mankind; for it is by means of its skin, that our woollen cloth is dressed. 

From the monopoly of this article, great frauds and great profits have resulted;there is no subject on which the senate has more frequently passed decrees, and there is not one of the Emperors, who has not received from the provinces complaints respecting it.

Brooklyn Museum - Egyptian Collection

 Found myself in Brooklyn with some spare time a few weeks ago and wandered through their Egypt collection.  It was simply stunning.

It scratched an itch and now I'm off and running. Intrigued.  Deeply curious. Working my way through a 200-episode (!) podcast on the History of Ancient Egypt.  And it's even wilder (and more interesting) than I thought!

Some highlights of the afternoon:

An ancient game called Senet played for over 2,000 years.

Incredible naturalistic design on a vase from the era of Akhenaten.  Those colors!  Capturing flight.

The torso of Akhenaten vandalized after his death - an incredibly divisive king.

Another incredibly naturalistic tree, also dating from the era of Akhenaten.

This pottery!  It's alive!  Feelings, a world, captured and transmitted over time.

I thought this dude was cool.

Also him. I'm here for big cats.

And hippos.

A toy - with a working arm - millenia later.  The care and craftsmanship.  The depth of love and play.  It's amazing.

And what a great color!  The animals are fun.  The detail, the craft, the care.

Who doesn't love a good sleeping hound?

Opening the Vault - Dylan Clips @ the Nighthawk (9/4/2024)

Left DC for Brooklyn mid-morning and got into town by 2:30p.  Took a work call from a coffeeshop in Park Slope, then rambled through the Brooklyn Museum's Egypt wing (separate post here!) - a gorgeous afternoon.  

A quick pint at the Domino Park branch of Other Half before settling into the hip Nighthawk Theater to see some rare Bob Dylan clips.  Billed as Fifty Years in Sixty Minutes - it was an assemblage from the Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa that I'll make it to - someday.

The pre-roll was a fun compilation of music films.  Traci Chapman at Wembley in 88.  Kleenex  Some Don't Look Back footage.  The mood was upbeat, the Nighthawk's food was decent, all good signs.

After a short introduction from Steven Jenkins, the director of the Dylan Center, the lights went down and we were off..  

Autopsy on Operation Abolition (December 1961)

The first clip opened with an interview of Tony Glover, on a bus - somewhere in the Midwest (?) - remembering a film project that he and Dylan worked on in Minneapolis in late 1961 (around the time of the December 1961 Hotel Tape).   Apparently a group of Franciscan fathers were working on a film countering a film the House Unamerican Activities Committee had released called Operation Abolition and they wanted some folk music for the soundtrack.

Glover remembered Dylan recording straight to magnetic film - a first for both of them.  Apparently Dylan worked up three different instrumentals, mostly built around what Glover called a "Carter Family lick in G" as well as a version of We Shall Not Be Moved.  And Dylan used the name BL Jefferson to sign the contract.  Ha!

The full film is here.  The segment had some great clips from the film woven into Glover's interview, including We Shall Not Be Moved and that Carter lick.

Hollis Brown (Westinghouse Special 1963)

Sharp intense version of the song with a haunting banjo backing him up.  In the Q&A session afterwards someone asked who Steven Jenkins if he knew who was playing and Jenkins said he'd ruled out Tony Trischka.  But that was about it.  Incredible quality, powerful song.  Weird animation at the beginning.  Amazing close shots.  Watch for yourself here.

Maggie's Farm (Newport 1965)

It's that iconic footage - backlit Bob dodging shadows and shooting from the hip.   Wild.  The sort of performance you feel you know like the back of your hand until you're watching it again and the sheer thin wild mystery of the sound - the energy! - just swallows you whole.  Richly restored here, incredible quality.  And you get just how revolutionary this must have sounded!  

Bloomfield's solos are kinetic, but he's hidden here in the shadows.  Pure sound, leaking out at the corners.  Bob's all leather jacket and babyface cool.  He knows exactly what he's doing, and is loving every minute.

And then at the end - the boos.  It hits you.  They're real.   Tangible.  Cascading.  As someone pointed out in the Q&A the crowd's not mad about not the sound quality (as some folks say) - it's clearly the performance they can't stand.  And they're not subtle about it.  

Baby Let Me Follow You Down (UK 1966)

I didn't catch which show this is from, but the electric leap from Newport in 1965 to full houndstooth 1966 was thrilling.  Bob moves in that strange way he still does - almost lyrically - a kind of dancing, awkward yet deeply human.  

The sheer joy of Robbie's solos, standing close - in a tie! - focused on making this song come alive.  The interplay between them, the way the sound seems to simply spring into existence is unmatched.  And the quality of the footage makes it look like it's happening now - incredible restoration work.  

No link for this one, friends.  But to get a taste (in much lower quality) of what's going on, try this one.

I Pity the Poor Immigrant (Fort Collins 1966)

Bob and Joan hamming it up with the Rolling Thunder Review in the footage shot for the Hard Rain special.  The whole thing is a treat to see (it was at the Museum of the Moving Image once, long ago).

There's a playfulness that doesn't quite come across on the Hard Rain record. A musical banter between Bob and Joan - dancing with their eyes.  A young Rob Stoner rocking out, holding his own.  Bob shooting skeptical looks at the band.  There's a decent version here - so fun to see on the big screen.

Blowin' in the Wind (Lakeland FL 1981)

Bob starts at the piano, lights down.  Backup singers on the chorus, full gospel era sound.  That lush organ.  He sings hard, stretching out the vowels.  Then as the lights come up, Bob makes his way to center stage and his guitar.  

The crowd up close is into it, but the arena feels small, and is definitely not full.  How much '81 footage like this is there!?  

Low-quality version of this footage is here.

When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky (Australia 1986)

This was easily the highlight of the night.  My notes simply say:  

• Holy Shit!  
• Leather sleeveless vest
• Tom Petty
• Fire.  Pure fire.

And it's true.  A purely electric performance.  Every syllable sharp and precise - capturing that hurt, tender, angry moment when the letters start burning.   

You can see it for yourself here - but play it loud.  On the biggest screen you can find.  Now.

Ring Them Bells (Supper Club 1991)

The Supper Club shows are special.  There's an intimacy in his voice, a closeness to the viewer.  That checked jacket (echoing the houndstooth of 66).  And the arrangement of this song is superb - gorgeous, soaring, his voice building.  Subtle, but powerful.  

And - best of all - through all these clips but particularly here you get a glimpse of the way Dylan moves on stage - the wide leg spread, the awkward but endearing dance moves, the deep joyous grin as he closes his guitar solo. So alive.  Video here - well worth your time.

Train of Love (Johnny Cash Tribute 1999)

I remember watching this on TV live back in 1999 and never thought I'd get to see it again (though apparently the clip is here!).  Everybody loves a song about trains.  So great to see Larry Campbell - and to see Bob dancing and vamping during Larry's solo.

Cold Irons Bound (Masked and Anonymous 2002)

I saw most of my Dylan shows in that wild midwestern college window between 1997 and 2002 and there's something about this sound - particularly with Charlie Sexton in the band - that just goes right through me.  Bob is sharp here, tight voiced with a taut bassline - spitting lyrics.  A cowboy band.  Great interplay between the band - Larry and Charlie looking at each other and smiling.  Clip here.

Once Upon a Time (Tony Bennet Tribute 2016)

Something I'd never seen before.  Dylan in his classics era, picking up the mic stand and leaning into every word.  The Hollywood stage lights, the big suit and bolo tie.  It's clear how much he cares - about the song, the tradition, the feelings behind it all.  Clip here.

Visions of 66 (compilation):  A short documentary-style clip about the Center's efforts to restore Pennebaker's 66 footage.  They're doing amazing work and so much of the footage is simply spell-binding.  There are worlds here.

Conclusion

I lingered round the Nighthawk for a bit afterwards, chatting with Bob fans.  It reminded me of those neighborhood cinema bars in Berlin where folks hang out before and after shows.  Then a long drive back to DC - counting the cars on the (mostly empty) New Jersey turnpike before landing back home, late - but smiling.

Newport Folk Festival 2023 - Raw Notes

Newport Folk is a truly magical place!

Each year, to keep track of what I see (and like) I take notes in real time.

Here's a dump of that doc - very lightly cleaned up - for those who might find it interesting!
--

Friday (7/29) - SO HOT

Ron Gallo - High energy early. Fuzzy distortion on the guitars. Tiny bass player in a dress and heels, locked in. Tight propulsive (smart!) songs. Highlights : All the Punks are domesticated / Young Lady, You’re Scaring Me.

Laden Valley (end) - Caught “Do You Love Me Still” and then cover of Times Changin”

Beths - Giant fish! Fun, poppy, from New Zealand. Lead singer overheated - cut set short! (Apparently she rested a bit, then continued, but we moved on..).

Lee Renaldo & Eastern Medicine Singers - Intense collaboration. Drone with percussion, endless possibilities. Atmospheric , mesmerizing. Better than expected.

Bella White - strong, powerful vocals, captivating country rock (steel guitar! Fiddle!). Taut. (Still SO HOT out). Good song: Just Like Leaving.

Mdou Moctar - Pure kinetic energy. Heat, blistering, mesmerizing. Loud but so delicate. Layers and worlds. The whole crowd standing and cheering. Drummer kicked out his drum shell and it had to be replaced. Grinning, alive, he’s electric. Would love to see him with Billy Strings.

Slaughter Beach, Dog - Rollicking, tight band. Funny lyrics. With Erin Rae on backing vocals. Strong clear vocals. But a fuzzy psychedelic sound. Craig Finn came out for a song. Song about friend who played bass. Charming, fun. Would see again.

Illiterate Light - I rode a bike to power the stage! Super fun. Short set. New protest song. Rockin’ cover of Vampire Blues (as always). Growing Down to close as a sing-along.

Nickel Creek - From Beer Jail. Sara seems to be in good form, tight harmonies. Chris is a pro. Destination is a great song.

Maggie Rogers - From the pier. Such joy! Young and spinning and happy. Did a slower version of Want Want. Brought out Del Water Gap. Alaska. Such a voice and a lot of fun, as always.

James Taylor - Noah Kahan dropped out and James jumped in at the last minute. Meg heard the rumour in line for beer and it was true! Made it over for a story about a pig and Carolina on my Mind and you’ve got a friend. Singing close harmonies with his wife and son.

MMJ - Say That You Love Me (with Maggie Rogers!). They jammed. We smiled and soaked it in.

Tyler Childers @ Newport Blues Cafe (Aftershow). How to capture this in words? So close. Four songs in and we had our money's worth - Whitehouse Road / In Your Love / All Your'n / Purgatory. Deep gospel through-line. Triune God. Old Country Church. No crazy song about the shepherds from DelFest. Tight band, wild bass player. Solo acoustic to close - Grindstone. Lady May. Virgie. Walked out, floating.

Saturday! (7/30) - Still hot. Slightly overcast.

(Proposal! In which Megan agrees to marry me.)

Willi Carlisle - held the crowd in the palm of his hand with just his voice and banjo (and accordion). Folk songs (real ones). Vanlife - funny and smart with a political twist. Steve Goodman Vietnam protest ballad had me crying. Ended with two sing alongs.

Jamie Wyatt - silk shirt, blue suit, came out strong with neon cross. Fixed the sound. Slinky. Danced and slid around the stage, warm chaos with a soulful voice and a tight band. Warmed up to the crowd more and more by the end. Willi played fiddle! New album and show at 9:30. Can’t wait.

Danielle Ponder - caught last few songs. cover of mountain deep. Final song for pscilocybin ("or god - they’re the same thing.")

Bartees Strange - Incredible energy. Kindness, presence. But voice. Great songs. Heavy Heart. Dancing on stage, kinetic.

Ballroom Thieves (Bike Stage) - Charming, hair blowing in the wind. Jumped on the bikes and forgot the words to their own song!

Hold Steady - Straightforward hyper-literate rock and roll with a Midwest accent. Lots of words, images. Harmonica player wearing a suit. Characters in stories - high energy. Loose but polished, ragged but sharp. Good song. - Sequestered in Memphis.

Goose - Jammin’. Cover of Don’t Do It. Animal appearance.

SG Goodman - Short set on the foundation stage. Space and Time (which Tyler Childers covers?). Song by high school friend Tyler. Then Teeth Marks.

Jason Isbell - Opened with Cover Me Up. Turnpike Troubadors guy singing King of Oklahoma. Most of the rest of the new album. Sadler rocking out - that guitar sound!

Turnpike Troubadours - Rocking Western swing. Playful, fun, danceable. Tyler Childers came out for two songs - cover of Prine’s Muhlenberg County, kids (and me!) so excited.

Jon Batiste - Opened with medicine show singers. Guest spot by Lauren Daigle. Funky soulful Nobody’s Fault But Mine. Storm clouds rolling in.

Sunday (7/31) -

Made it through security, but long delay to the stages - long sound check by Lana? (Yes. Caught her with Nikki Lane, wrapping up as we went in).

JP Harris / Willi Carlisle / Palmyra - Bike stage. JP doing old ballads. Willi doing Rocks Don’t Know. Song by old friend (Luke Bell) - Bullfighter in the Pen. A highlight of the whole fest, easily.

Sonora May - Gorgeous smoky voice. Bluesy sound. SG Goodman came out for Milk and Honey. Energy up, loping guitar line. Papa won’t you let me go to town - Bobbie Gentry song? Dogs of Mexico to close. Really good.

Dan Blakeslee - ok? A lot of stage to fill with one guy. Would see in a smaller venue:

Sumbuck - sounds like caamp. Tastes like bbq and street corn (lunch).

Earls of Leicester - tight fun bluegrass. Train that carried. Big black train. Charlie Poole’s Deal Go Down. Gospel songs. Jimmy Brown the Newsboy. Jerry Douglass on dobro. Doing the Flatt and Scruggs set from 1966. So great to see the old songs still alive, folks dancing.

Madison Cunningham - Blue guitar, slightly funky beat. Tight band. Cool energy with a bit of a slide. Good song - I Think We’ve Been Here Once Before. Remi Wolf came out for Hospital. Slower ballads. Wide range to her voice. Closed with Looking For Something, filling the stage.

Remi Wolf - Small human, big energy. Had crowd up and dancing - Disco. Funky, playful. Alive. Bit of Lizzo-feel. Pacing the stage with a grin - flowing, happy. But still SO HOT out. Quad air felt thick so -

Los Lobos - from the pier, with a cool breeze. Opened with Chuck Berry riff. Neko Case! I finally see how Like a Rolling Stone comes from La Bamba.

Lana Del Ray - Nikki Lane came out (we saw her at sound check!). Highlight - Jack Antonoff playing piano as she sang a great Joni cover - For Free. Loved Video Games. Choreographed dancers. Dragged off stage in a sheet (exit!)

Billy Strings - Jammed a lot at first. Tight band. Doc Watson songs. Make me a Pallet. Stanley Brothers - Rank Strangers. Solo - talkin blues about fishing. Very good at playing lots of notes, exuberant, wildly talented. Sun setting, gorgeous end to a weekend.

Hayden Pedigo

My new goal here? Post more. Even if they're short.

Just back from Denver where I hit the one and only Twist and Shout yesterday afternoon. After gathering (and putting back) and armful, I ended up walking out with a Hayden Pedigo record that had been prominently displayed in the Folk section. And boy am I glad I did!

Billed as "a Texas panhandle ode to John Fahey" - it's all that, and more. Rich, deep, deceptively simple. A perfect record to sit with and open up to. And, well, write to..

Mdou Moctar - Ottobar (9/7/2021)

It was a Tuesday night. In Baltimore. And I finally got to see Mdou Moctar. At Ottobar.

We got there a little early. My first time at Ottobar - a wonderfully dark, sticker-and-graffiti-covered place. The stage was a few steps down from the bar, to the right. A small balcony on the left side with a row of chairs looking down on the crowd A far more diverse crowd than DC, a bit of excitement in the air. Full - but not uncomfortable. Got a good spot about 1/3 of the way back, smiling.

Blacks' Myths opened. Loud, dissonant, fractured. Jarring, but beautiful. Jazz-as-hardcore isn't a bad description. It was wild. Started with a guitar / bass player, seated, building layers of sound. Wild strumming, pauses, spaces. With a drummer pulling time backwards and forwards - tight, steady. Then a saxophone. Noise. So much noise. But textured and moving. It felt like a painting, with lines and threads you could follow indefinitely. I got lost. Floated. Didn't care. Pulled through. So good to see chaos like that, risk like that, in public. I'd go again, anytime.

Then a break. Time for a Natty Boh and some choice crowd-watching. Then Mdou walked out with his band - in full desert outfits. Like they stepped out of that movie. He smiled, wide and deep, and said "thank you for the claps, guys" and launched into the first song.

It's incredible to me that the guitar has so many voices. And that there are new ones - expansive ones - just waiting to be found. He played a tight, short set. Maybe 45 minutes. But for those 45 minutes, time stopped. It felt like the desert. It felt like Mdou's time and we were just living in it. There was a beauty in the rambling melody lines, real feeling in the singing - words themselves immaterial to understanding.

The band has been on tour for a while - so they were able to shift tempos with a glance. Everyone working together - real joy passing between them. Big smiles, simple connections. The room was moving - not chaotically, but like we were entranced, pulled rhythmically together. It's a long way from the Sahara to Ottobar - but somehow, not. It felt good to be there. Really good.

Look around, 'round, 'round, 'round..

There's a moment every year, just before Thanksgiving, when I get the email reminding me that a new music issue of the Oxford American is coming along. And it makes me smile. And click the link. The tracklist this year looks particularly strong. I can't wait to dive in!

Other various and sundry observations and notes and internet scrapings:

• A great write up of The Ear in the NY Times. One of my favorite bars in the world. And it pulled me back to those late-summer nights in early 2000's NY. A different world, for sure, on so many fronts. The layers of history, a palimpsest.

• EO sent me this amazing oral history of Nirvana's Unplugged sessions. Well worth the read! I love this image:

  Bobcat Goldthwait (comedian-filmmaker): Kurt was a fan of my stand-up. It’s like finding out that Jimi Hendrix really liked Buddy Hackett. He wanted to meet me. It was before the band had broken. I was in Ann Arbor doing a gig and I think Nirvana was playing the Blind Pig. Kurt wanted to meet me, so he interviewed me on the college radio station, even though we were both guests. It was weird. He’d written a bunch of questions on a paper bag, and it really just digressed to us making fun of the Grateful Dead.

• Dylan's been doing a James Brown cover lately. Not sure it measures up to the original, but love that he's digging deep again.

• Earlier this week I caught the Pulse show at the Hirshhorn just before closing. And the place was empty. And it was _amazing_. Seeing an entire room of old filament lightbulbs beat in time to your hearbeat for a few seconds, and then get swallowed up into the most recent bulb, was quite powerful. I found it more emotional than I expected. There was subtlety and beauty and that sort of awe you get when you look at the stars on a clear night.

• Speaking of emotional. The end of Serial this week was quite powerful. She didn't pull punches - and Josh's story was a good note to end on. But the frustrating thing is that it doesn't seem to be making any difference. Aside from at the margins. Within the choir. But it's making me think about my role within the system. And what, if anything, I can do. But at the very least, well worth listening to. And thinking about. And debating.

• After There, There, I'm headed back in time to pick up one of the books I missed in High School! Let's hear it for Pip and Great Expectations! So far it's funnier than I expected. And a fairly easy to read.

• Been listening to a lot of White Album this week. The NPR podcast, All Songs Considered, does a great deep dive on the making of the album that got in my veins. They were only 27! Amazing..

That, for now, is all. I'm working up an art-centric NY trip soon-ish. On the agenda: the Armenia show at the Met (and maybe Delacroix), and the Klint show at the Guggenheim. And, if its available with a TKTS-discount and the timing is feasible, The Ferryman.

Waltzing Through Fall

Last night, I took J trick-or-treating through Trinidad (along with E, for a bit, and Z for a bit longer). She was Eliza (from Hamilton!), but acquired vampire fangs (and a tiara) along the way, so quickly became vampire Eliza. It was a perfect mid-fall night. Dry, warm, leaves just starting to turn. The streets filled with old friends and flowing with candy. Per J, I'm strictly rationed to: (3) Kit Kat bars; (1) roll of smarties; and (1) mini-Butterfinger. Which is probably all I need anyway.

Things that have been rattling around the internet, etc. this week:

• This piece on Outlaw Country in 33 Songs is amazing and detailed. And makes me think of Texas. The first time I heard Dallas in Tim's backyard. And now has me listening to a string of Jimmie Dale Gilmore songs at my desk. But the opening interview with Steve Earle is a lot of fun too. Money quote:

  Who do you think embody some of those outlaw principles these day?

  A lot of them are girls. Miranda Lambert’s last record is a fucking masterpiece. Women are being marginalized in country music more than ever, just because bro country thinks it’s such a dude thing. Women are reacting to it and they’re the best songwriters. A lot of it’s Brandy Clark. She’s in the middle of it all and she’s a badass.

• I'm quite looking forward to going to the Hirshhorn (maybe lunch tomorrow?) to see the Pulse show! It seems like it could bear repeat visits...

• I saw a free bluegrass show at Pearl Street Warehouse on Tuesday night. The band, Off the Rails, was fun and had a nice deep repertoire - from Hank Williams (Hey, Good Lookin'!) to Mandolin Orange (Waltz About Whiskey) to Sturgill Simpson (Long White Line). But the venue was a little slick and a little quiet (I mean, it was a Tuesday night). The waltzes were made for dancing two-step and the floor stayed empty. But, it was free, and the gumbo was truly delicious!

• Yet another reason to go to NYC for art!

• And, speaking of art, Dumbarton Oaks now opens at 11:30a! And starting today, the gardens (open at 2p), are free. May well be worth a bike ride over there..

• This week Punch did a series on now-defunct bars. Even though I only went to the Mars Bar once, this piece is well-written and nicely captures what I remember about it.

• No new Serial today! Which just means more time to re-listen to the last few episodes. It's truly amazing this year. And I'm somewhat surprised (but not really) that the response has been so muted. It seems like these conversations, explorations, are exactly what we should be highlighting right now.

Parents coming to town soon. Swimming and shed building and (hopefully) some more of these perfect fall days for rambling.

Salt & Sundry

Joan Mitchell, Salut Tom (1979)

A place to park some things that have been rambling around my brain the last few days. Connections. Words. Discoveries. Explorations.

A smattering:

• Last night I watched the Oakland episode of Hip Hop Evolution. The biggest takeaways for me were (1) that I need to find some Too Short; (2) how the connections between the Panthers and dance and revolution made Oakland hip-hop a very special thing; (3) that Hammer's dancing is still just so much fun (and, somehow, connected directly to #2); (4) that Tupac was in Digital Underground [of Humpty Dance fame!] - somehow I'd never quite made that connection.

  Then I fell down an internet rabbit hole and learned that Tupac and Jada Pinkett (Smith) went to an arts High School together in Baltimore! Who knew?! Someone should make a movie about that. Though, there are probably 300 scripts along those lines already floating around.

• The new Jason Isbell live album (despite a bad review from WaPo) has been on repeat for me lately. The opening lines of "Hope the High Road" dig deep. It was great to see him at Newport.. it'd be amazing to see him again.

• Can't wait to finish re-watching the Wire - Season 4. This is a great article on how the Wire nailed public education. Is the Wire really that forgotten of a show?

• Still rolling through "There There" - losing the thread a bit, but it's really a function of my lack of focus. There's some really incredible writing, rich characters, and buried narratives being unearthed here that make it well worth the read. I'm excited to see where Tommy Orange goes from here. It feels like White Teeth - a stunning debut which just promises much more ahead.

• I'm really loving the LitHub decade-by-decade surveys of defining books. The 90's is up today and there's a lot I agree with - and a lot I'd quibble with. But we're now in a decade where I remember buying some of these books when they were new (Jhumpa Lahiri!). Very much looking forward to the next installments..

• This Eileen Myles interview just kills me. She's so present, so funny, so alive.

  Suddenly things were very open. I don’t know what it was that I expected to be doing, but there I was. I wasn’t teaching, I didn’t have any commitments. And it was just really funny to be in this position where, at least for a time, I was experiencing New York City in an ideal way in my 60s that very much resembles me in my 20s, except that these days nobody else is living this way. But for this window of time, I was very free. I kind of had no schedule. I don’t remember being particularly broke. And I just wasn’t under any pressure. I was just in this expanse of time that not anybody I knew was in… and I was in the city. And it was funny. I wrote the poem “Evolution” out of that kind of lengthy, loose feeling. That characterized a lot of this work. I think that I write kind of seasonally in some way, and my poems always make me know about the curve of time.

• The new Dylan Bootleg Series (at least based on the First Listen Sampler on NPR) is good - but nothing earthshaking. Greil is right - the Minneapolis sessions saved the album, myths aside.

• And this new show at the Met on Armenia seems fascinating! Particularly after seeing a glimpse of Armenia at the Folklife Fest this year. A quick trip to NYC, soon, might be in order..

• Caught the Diane Arbus (small!) show at the Smithsonian American Art Museum the other day. About a portfolio of 10 prints she was working on when she died. There was a reference to her address in an ad for the Portfolio, which I looked up and it led me to a fascinating story about how the old Bell Telephone Labs on the West Side became an artists community. And how the renovation was done by a young Richard Meier. Stories within stories. Always.

Thoughts on Books and Things

With the weather warming, and the backyard a mess of half-finished projects, I'm reading less. Even tired, curled with J for quiet reading at night, I look at my phone far longer than I should. And pick up a book only for the last 10 minutes or so. Maybe it's because Less hasn't fully grabbed me. It's a good palate-cleanser after Little Fires and Stephen Florida, but sometimes I want to dive into something deeper and older.

This write-up of Bowles and Sheltering Sky by Theroux caught my eye this morning and I've been chewing on it. A sense of restlessness. Heading south. The desert. I'd love to re-read it. Or the great white whale itself. Or Anna K.

And then there's Bolano (who I'm craving, particularly Savage Detectives, after hearing Rachel K talk about it at her reading on Monday). And Flamethrowers. Maybe after the new one I'll dive back into Reno's world. Ideally on a bus to NYC to see art.

Now playing: The National. On repeat.

PS - More from LitHub. The Fear / Responsibility / Boredom of Motherhood. (Or single-fatherhood, I suppose). The little one here is littler, but some of the feelings are the same.

Today I tried to explain to my daughter what “dead time” is: “There are moments when we do absolutely nothing, and life is full of those, my love.” She replied, “Who killed it?” I was going to say that what matters is not who killed it but how it was killed—but by then she’d already switched on the TV.

The Mars Room

Took a trip to P&P on Monday to see Rachel K read from her new book. She was splendid. Funny, present. And rolled with some ridiculous audience questions.

The Times review is out. I can't wait to dive in:

Rachel Kushner’s second novel, “The Flamethrowers,” instantly established her as one of the most gifted writers of her generation — on the same tier as Jennifer Egan and the two Jonathans, Franzen and Lethem. As the title suggests, it was a flamboyant book, brilliant to a point just short of showoffiness, and it somehow managed to fuse together sex, motorcycle racing, Italian labor strife and the New York art world of the 1970s. It made everyone’s Top 10 list, was a finalist for a 2013 National Book Award (I was one of the judges) and quickly got snapped up by the movies.

God, I loved the Flamethrowers. As the woman who introduced Rachel explained, it's like you remember scenes from the book as though they actually happened. To you. It gets that far under your skin.

Trouble No More

So I impulsively took a bus trip up to NYC to see Trouble No More last night. Left DC at 12:30p, read Commonwealth on a gorgeous blue-sky early-fall afternoon up through NJ. Had a quick dinner with BL (Thai in Chelsea, 5 tables, not good, not bad, just food and good conversation), then the C train up to Lincoln Center. It was a clear, cool night. Not cold. Just perfect. I queued up in line with my book, remembering why I was always able to finish so many books when I lived in NYC.

I was early enough in line that when they opened the doors I got great seats. It started a little late, a speech from the director. A shout out to Jeff Rosen (seated a few rows up from me). And then the lights came down.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I knew it wasn't a concert film - but had concert footage. I vaguely knew that Luc Sante had written "sermons" for the film. And I knew it was short (an hour). But that was it.

A quick trip.. #gospeldylan. @thenyff

A post shared by Ben (@lonesomeace) on Oct 2, 2017 at 5:05pm PDT

So the lights went down and the film opened with a shot of a door. And then the camera moved through it and upstairs and we're in a rehearsal studio in LA in 1980, with Bob and that amazing band (and choir) running through a rough, ragged, slightly aggressive version of Jesus Met the Woman at the Well, that old traditional gospel song he did so well in the 60's -- reborn here. The camera is tight, the band is sweating, and it feels alive.

From there we jump to concert footage that I'd never seen (Buffalo '80?). Dylan looking somewhat tired, the stage small, the crowd pressed in tight. I'd forgotten these were theater-sized shows. But the band is on fire - and his voice is alive and urgent. And the way he moves. Throws his head to the side between lines. Captivating.

Then he walks off stage as the band keeps playing and the film neatly segues to Michael Shannon playing a 30's preacher, walking into a church, and giving a sermon - on removing the plank from your eye before pointing out the mote in your neighbor's eye - a standard text. But I found the delivery compelling. Having grown up hearing sermons like these, they ring true. But they also fit the film. They're plain-spoken, simple, but not condescending.

This rhythm keeps up through the film. Some amazing performances - Solid Rock, Pressing On, Ain't Gonna Go to Hell for Anybody, What Can I Do For You?, Precious Angel - interlaced with sermons. Some better than others. Some performances better than others. Generally fitting in the theme. And then, over the closing credits, a real treat - Bob and Clydie King rehearsing Abraham, Martin, and John. A perfect way to bring it all together.

All in all, somewhat to my surprise, I thought it worked incredibly well. It seemed as though they had a pile of 79-80 footage and weren't sure what to do with it. And they had two easy options and a third, more-interesting, option. The easy ways out would have been to do a full concert film of, say, Toronto (either 80 or 81 - or both) - 1-2 hours of pure music. Or they could have done a narrative-style No Direction Home type piece - telling the story of the Gospel Era with some combination of music and interview and voice-over.. But this approach worked even better, I think, and I'm glad they went with it.

And yes, we could quibble for days / months / years about what was left out and why (both here and in the box set). No Tucson '79. No New Orleans '81 (that Lanois mixed!). But I'm incredibly grateful that this exists at all. It was worth the bus ride. I missed the Q&A, alas, to catch the 11p bus back to DC, falling asleep almost instantly, feet dangling across the aisle. Out cold all the way home..

Thoughts on American Epic - Episode 2 - Blood and Soil

After the disappointment of Episode 1, I didn't have particularly high hopes for the rest of the American Epic series. It seemed trite, half-baked. Simplified.

But, well. A lot can change in an hour. The second episode - Blood and Soil was tremendous. It dug in deep and got it. Let the music speak for itself, and made genuine connections (mostly) - showing how these slices of vernacular music captured (magically!) by record companies in the 20's reached far and wide.

Elder J.E. Burch

The first segment was anchored, neatly, in the sanctified church movement of the early 20th century (who can forget the Cotton Top Mountain Sanctified Singers?) - and looked smartly forward and backwards from there.. The role of preacher records, gospel music - all centered around Elder J.E. Burch and the quiet fervor of "My Heart Keeps Singing."

The filmmakers actually show the work - dig in the archives. Travel to Cheraw, SC. And talk to people who knew Burch. (They could do more of this - the story of the search).

Connections are nicely made to the civil rights movement, and Aretha Franklin and Dizzie Gillespie (who grew up next door to Burch!). Nimbly, niftily done. And letting Sister Rosetta Tharpe's Up Above My Head roll for a while at the opening? Spot-on. It frames the whole section perfectly - old and new; secular and spiritual; sensual and gospel and political and oh so powerful.

And, blissfully, no celebrities pontificating.

Coal Country

Just hearing the opening chords of Henry Lee made me smile, deeply. We're firmly on Anthology territory. This segment focused on Logan County - the land of Dick Justice and Frank Hutchison. Some great footage of the mines (including a great juxtaposition at the end of mine cars full of workers matched against an engineer in a lab coat watching a record get cut). Excellent discussion of music as a hobby - and a quick (too quick!) mention of the battle of Blair Mountain and Union struggles.

Could have used a bit more discussion of the connections between this music and the blues - the cross-cultural, cross-regional pollination - the broad range of song styles and traditions. It could have gone deeper into the connections between music and labor struggles. And it could have used a bit more on how these folks were "discovered" by the record companies - and how they saw making records. But these are quibbles, really. We're blissfully spared the Episode 1 nonsense about the Carter's being some sort of purist hillbilly music monks.

Notably this segment includes the first mention of the Anthology. It's well out of scope - but this story could be told again from the other side - from the perspective of the Blues Mafia and that wave of white college kids who went south to "rediscover" this old music. And the canonization of those discoveries in things like the Anthology.. But another time, another film (or book!).

Also, Springsteen doing John Henry did very little for me. I mean, I love the man dearly. But why was this tacked on here?

Dockery

Probably the best segment yet. The opening was simply brilliant. May 1965. Shindig. Mick Jagger doing Red Rooster, transitioning to Brian Jones introducing Howlin' Wolf.

Then on to archival footage of Dockery with Wolf describing Patton. A line drawn through time in a great, simple, set of segues.

And then we're deep into the legend of Patton. As a friend pointed out, more could have been done with the poetry of his lyrics (see Chapter 2 of Robert Palmer's Deep Blues - Heart Like Railroad Steel) or their context as laid out in Elijah Wald's excellent piece . But there's plenty to love here from the lengthy clips (High Water!) and the interviews with those who knew him. The biggest thing I got from the interviews was just how key the role of working with mules in the fields was - to the lope of the rhythm, to the roughness of the voice. Lots of great stories about Patton's showmanship - he was an Elvis. A Jerry Lee. Playing the guitar with his teeth, behind his back. On the ground, kicking dust in the air.

And the links forward were nicely done - to Son House (that footage of him doing Death Letter!) and Robert Johnson and the world. All neatly placed into the context of Dockery Farm - a way of life with its roots before the Civil War.

Simply amazing footage. And hearing Robert Lockwood cover Robert Johnson's immortal Love in Vain reminded me how that song is about the best 2:20 imaginable:

When the train, it left the station, was two lights on behind
When the train, it left the station, was two lights on behind
Well, the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind.
All my love's in vain.

And again, no celebrities in sight. Thank g-d.

Next week looks to cover the field - Cajun and Hawaiian and who knows what else. I've ordered the Book (apparently it's quite helpful for context - and reams of unpublished interviews). I may be along for the ride despite myself...

Thoughts on American Epic - Episode 1

So I was taken a bit by surprise by the launch of American Epic. Apparently it's been in the works for years - but I've been out of the Old Time circles, alas.

And I was pretty excited - finally, a chance to see pre-war music get a shot in the public eye! The magic, the mystery. That incredible moment when the music industry met vernacular music on its own terms - and captured the diversity and depth that was out there far better than well-meaning folk song collectors like Lomax were able to. Charlie Patton and Geeshie Wiley. Washington Phillips and Blind Willie Johnson. Skip James. Furry Lewis. All recorded commercially. All sublime.

And maybe, just maybe, Robert Redford and Jack White and T Bone could conjure some of that up - put it in context, and show why it mattered. Where it came from and how it grew. And what it tells us about the intersections, the seams, in our fabric.

And. Well. They tried. There's a lot to like in Episode 1. Split between the Carter Family and the Memphis Jug Band - they let the songs roll where appropriate (instead of just short clips). There's some great old footage - particularly of the record cutting machines. And the story of Peer going to Bristol to record is well told.

[First, though, a confession. I've never really liked the Carter Family. I get why they're important. But I find the fingerpicking repetitive and dull. And, aside from say Single Girl, I never really connected with the songs emotionally. Certainly not the same way I do when hearing Clarence Ashley or Bascom Lamar Lunsford or Frank Hutchison. Heresy, I know. And I don't care.]

That aside though, it makes sense to start the story with the Carters. In Bristol. But the story they tell is full of banal cliches. At one point Redford actually says: "Though poor in material goods, the mountain folk are rich with tradition. And none more than the Carter Family." What does that even mean? They were the poorest? The richest with tradition? Whatever they were, they didn't just appear. Where's the story of where this music came from? The mash-up of british isle murder ballads and the blues? Ghosts and vegetables and death?

Later, there's an assertion along the same lines - that the Carters had "no influences." Really!? All while failing to mention Leslie Riddle - A.P. Carter's African-American friend and fellow song-collector (who taught Maybelle her finger-picking technique). There's a great story to tell here - how A.P. pulled together and synthesized a wide range of song styles (and then took credit for them). But that's not in here.

There's a certain treacly nostalgia that creeps in. Assertions the Carters were "about music and not about money" (noting they didn't charge widows and orphans to see their shows) - when A.P. drug his pregnant wife from rural Virginia to Bristol to get a shot at a record deal? The list goes on.

So, do things improve with the Memphis Jug Band? Yes and no. Jug band music is dealt with as a fully-formed thing - without discussion of where it came from, or that it existed well beyond Memphis. Will Shade is given some well-deserved attention. There's some good discussion about how bands like the MJB played a bit of everything from Broadway showtunes to blues, but not nearly enough.

But then Nas - and Redford as narrator - keep repeating more cliche banalities - this time about the crime and violence and danger of Memphis in the 20's. And it's as false a fetishization as the spin on the Carters. The clip of Nas covering "On the Road Again" is interesting - but what does it really do to help us understand the jump from pre-war blues to Illmatic?! Or is it just a teaser for the separate film / concert / video / CD / stream of the "American Epic Sessions"? I blame T. Bone Burnett (his soundtrack to the concert for the film of Inside Llewyn Davis is pure hucksterism. No matter how good Rhiannon's performance was). [But I can't stay mad. T Bone will always have a spot in my heart for Rolling Thunder 76. Always.]

The preview for next week mentions Charlie Patton. I'm holding my breath. There's real magic possible here - a world just waiting to be put into context and explored with actual intellectual depth and rigor. Amazing, explosive stories about how our country came together (and didn't, and haven't). Stories of Love & Theft. And they're waiting to be told. Still.

Heart Like a Levee (Tift Merritt / Hiss Golden Messenger, Bootleg Theater, LA - 10/22/2016).

A photo posted by Ben (@lonesomeace) on Oct 22, 2016 at 4:51pm PDT

Back from the desert, back from LA - and back to bullets. For efficiency's sake, of course.

• There's something about the desert. The space, the land, the sense of time on a geological scale. The stars at night. Then driving down, out of the hills, into the impossibly sprawling megalopolis. A stolen weekend - MOCA and LACMA and Point Dume - actually making it to the sand this time, body-surfing, riding wave after perfect wave into shore.

• Saturday night. Bootleg Theater. Small, but warm. Wood beams and hipsters and craft beer sold from a folding table. Exposed rafters in the back room, warm, lovely sound. I caught the end of Tift Merrit's soundcheck, an almost-empty room, hanging on every word. Then, later, once the show started she was incredibly present. Human. Funny. With a voice like Emmylou's and some solid songs.

  Hiss Golden Messenger had a Dawes-type feel. Polished, but heartfelt. And I missed a bit of Tift's raggedness and earnestness - but it all fit together quite well.

• Sunday brunch in Los Feliz with amazing family. Wonderful, rambling conversation. Bookstore wandering. That sky. Prolonging the drive back to the airport until the last possible minute..

• Then home. Words sent into the space. Accepting a new job offer on my birthday, then taking J to Ted's Bulletin to celebrate.. Dancing into the unknown, but excited about the possibilities. Returning to the world of museums and libraries and archives. On the cusp of big changes - technology, copyright, trade. In a position where I can make a difference, hopefully.

• Off to Shenandoah again over Veteran's Day with J. To test the new backpacking tent and some new campstove recipes and try some new trails. Skipping St. Paul & The Broken Bones to do so - but excited about Mitzki and Loretta Lynn and Zadie Smith. And oh so much more.