Ava Mendoza Trio at Smith-Andersen Gallery Saturday Sept. 8

Ava Mendoza Trio will perform at the opening party for “Gender Specific Take It Or Leave It” a group show at Smith-Andersen Gallery in Palo Alto, Saturday, September 8, 2012, at approximately 4 p.m. The event overall is listed as from 3 to 7 p.m, with the music slated as two 45s and a break.

The art show features work by 28 artists including Terry Acebo Davis (my girlfriend), Kathryn Kain, Hung Liu, Kara Walker, Kara Maria, Kathy Aoki, Vanessa Blaikie, Stephanie Sanchez, Inga Infante and Helen Frankenthaler. The gallery is at 440 Pepper Street in Palo Alto, near the giant Fletcher Benton at Page Mill and El Camino; info (650) 328-7762.

Earthwise Productions (my company) is producing the entertainment segment of the party. This is perhaps the fourth time Paula Kirkeby and I have collaborated to augment her considerable curatorial offerings with suitable live music/art utterances and ritual.

I met Ava Mendoza at the Make Out Room at a showcase organized by Lisa Mezzacappa in June of 2009. I met her again about a year ago when she played in a rock band at the Sunset Magazine fair; I could hear the music from our North Palo Alto home and was drawn to the fair as if the bass and guitar lines were the voices of syrens. Truthfully I didn’t recognize Ava in that band (The Salmonellas) until I approached her after her set. But it’s true her music drew me in from blocks away.

Ava recently performed at the prestigious New York listening room, The Stone. (see video above). I believe her Palo Alto performance features the same trio.Ava Mendoza- guitar
Dominique Leone- bass synth
Nick Tamburro- drum.

She and Nick have announced on new release on a label called Weird Forest.

I’d like to think that performing at this gallery party, surrounded by amazing art and interesting people — some of the artists and their fans and collectors and friends — makes the Ava hit more than mere background music, but we will have to see about that. It underscores the fact that Palo Alto lacks a proper music venue. Ava’s group performs that evening at The Starry Plough bar in Berkeley, on a bill with Scott Amendola and Phillip Greenlief’s PG13 — a pretty good hit by Bay Area standards.

On the other hand, and excuse the digression, I am not a fan of putting jazz and new music into giant institutional halls and charging people $40 to $100 or more; that’s “classical” not jazz.

Paula Kirkeby does not have to throw down for top drawer musicians to make her openings fly but she does it because she sees the analogy between composers/performers like Ava Mendoza and the visual artists with whom she works. And certainly the artists in residence at Smith Andersen Editions have made good use of the boom box while they print there. I am also reminded here of collaborations like Bill Frisell’s compositions in reaction to Gerhard Richter, or Elmer Bischoff’s band, or Nathan Oliveira’s friendship with Stan Getz.

If Ava Mendoza literally steals the show Sept. 8 there will be a small group of new converts who follow her from Palo Alto to Berkeley for her 9 pm hit there; the Plough also has burgers, darts and a collection of political posters.

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Arneson and Moscone legacies at SFMOMA

Robert Arneson’s tribute to former mayor of San Francisco George Moscone is on display at SFMOMA. The piece was rejected by its commissioners and was in private hands before SFMOMA arranged recently to show it.

Beyond the likeness, it features allusions to his life. I didn’t know for example, that Moscone was all City in basketball.

Here is a link to the Chronicle coverage of this.

It is displayed, along with a drawing of or plan for the piece, next to another famous Arneson, “California Artist”.

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Book me, Danno

Ok, I admit it. I was checking myself out in the search engine.
I found two book-related oddities. The first was that Ouida Charles of the City of Palo Alto Library quoted my preview of the Ann Packer reading in her own press release on the event. I ended up missing the event; when Terry and I were in Alameda more recently — to meet visual artists Mateo Romero and Owen Smith at their library — I saw a flyer for an Ann Packer appearance at an indie there. Which I also missed.

I did have the chance to mention Ann to Sylvia Brownrigg, for what that’s worth.

The second book item is kinda creepy. There is an author from Guelph, Canada, near Toronto, who wrote a dark novel called “Love Object” and has what I hope is an inconsequential mention in a mock newspaper article about a “Mark Weiss of Palo Alto” who assaults someone in the restroom of the Fillmore (at a concert by a fictitious as far as I can tell band). I wrote her to correct her on the distinction between Fillmore East and Fillmore. Sally Cooper.

Subject :

Palo Alto City Library and Books Inc. Present Author Ann Packer
Contact : Ouida Charles, Library Services Manager 650-329-READ
Palo Alto, CA – The Palo Alto City Library and Books Inc. of Palo Alto are pleased to announce that Ann Packer will present her novel Swim Back to Me on April 18, 2012.

Many of Ann Packer’s stories focus on what it was like growing up in Palo Alto in the seventies. She will be speaking and signing books at the Downtown Library, 270 Forest Avenue. The program begins at 7 p.m.

Mark Weiss wrote in his blog (“Ann Packer to Rock Downtown Library”), “I’m excited to see that the local author, Gunn and Yale graduate, Ann Packer will be appearing and reading at the Downtown Library.”

Ann Packer’s collection of stories is emotionally searing. They are framed by two masterfully linked narratives that express the transformation of a single family over the course of a lifetime.

The Library and Books Inc. partnership brings novelists and short story writers to Palo Alto every month. Library customers with further questions should contact Ouida Charles, at ouida.charles@cityofpaloalto.org or 329-READ.

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Just a NoLa walk with Anthropologie

Anthropologie the upscale women’s store has issued a smart catalogue featuring Preservation Hall and some of it’s jazz band members, including the clarinetist Charlie Gabriel on the cover.

I am more of a Tipitina’s and Maple Leaf -Jacques Imo’s kind of 504 dude, but I have much respect for the venue and org Preservation, who happen to have two Bay Area shows coming up, in Livermore and Marin.

The catalog has me sussing around the aether to put this shoot in context. There are at least three musicians featured (but not named, except on the chain’s website, Gabriel, drummer Joseph Lastie Jr, and tubist-administrator Ben Jaffee, featured on the site only). Most of the clothing is modeled by a young blonde woman whose looks shout Ukraine or Sweden more than NoLa.

There is an homage to a recent small label release “Bille De De” featuring pianist Billie Pierce (it’s framed and on the wall, above Miss Olga and we presume in the actual building) but more people know the major label release from the 1980s or the recent session with guests like Andrew Bird, Tom Waits, Pete Seeger and Steve Earle.

I will swing by the Palo Alto store to see what NoLa influence they are featuring and edita as necessary. For $138 you can pick up a “zydeco peasant dress” imported from somewhere the snapped beans are surely canned, bland and or in short supply.

There’s something a little sad about jazz as an accessory that says “quaint” or “classical” more than “happening”, but again I am more Chris Speed than Dr. Michael White. And it’s kinda like the argument that someday Native Americans will value being stereotyped on Chicago Black Hawks jersies rather than being completely assimilated or forgotten. Go, Prez!

Anthropologie is a 135-store chain founded in Philly in 1992,  a sister to Urban Outfitters. Here in the 650, they took over an 11,000 s.f. former auto shop at Alma and Addison, developed by McNellis, in 2002.

Here is an interesting news segment featured on the band’s site:

edit to add: this is perhaps a red herring and too plastic but I have had a note in my cell for more than a few weeks to suss out “chi guitar gallery 216”. Somewhere I am now piercing together was a shot in a black and white movie or a still photo from Chicago back in the day with a sign for a guitar shop. I found a musician Jack Cecchini who describes himself as a founder of just such a shop in the 1970s at 226 or 216 S. Wabash in Chicago which is close enough for me.

And this is perhaps gratuitous but in 1999 Danny Scher of DanSun Productions issued a Narvin Kimball cd “Ninety and Still Swinging ” by the last surviving original member of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. I was an uncredited courier on that production –recorded live at Yoshi’s — in that I delivered from Danny’s East Bay home office to a design firm here in town some of the artwork, which is one of my most Zeligistic claims, bumping into geniuses and all dat.

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David Brooks on Springsteen

It makes you appreciate the tremendous power of particularity. If your identity is formed by hard boundaries, if you come from a specific place, if you embody a distinct musical tradition, if your concerns are expressed through a specific paracosm, you are going to have more depth and definition than you are if you grew up in the far-flung networks of pluralism and eclecticism, surfing from one spot to the next, sampling one style then the next, your identity formed by soft boundaries, or none at all.

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Nodding nod to David Foster Wallace

Yesterday, to prep for my interview for Palo Alto Planning and Transportation Commission, oblique-like, I napped for two hours by the pool intermittently balancing David Foster Wallace “The Pale King” open-faced on my lap, a super-sized LARGE TYPE varietal, that I plucked from Palo Alto Main intuitively, and moving my eyes and probably my lips over parts of it, a tiny fraction, including 33 and 35 because I picked up somewhere that those were the good parts — not just for all the talk about lips and hard to reach places — but because they had appeared previously — maybe even to me, in another dreamlike state — in The New Yorker and Harpers.

The book was not half as boring as I thought it would be. Nor impregnable, and I am not just saying that because of all the young mothers and mothers-to-be circling with their carriages.

Meanwhile, back at the interview, I had a thesaurus moment when I said the PATC was “pungent.” Did I mean it “stunk”? No, according to Webster’s Third New International, another hernia-inducer, it means “pointy” or I meant pointy. Or: fecund, pregnant, loaded, heavy, ripe, ready. It is the most important and powerful committee, which is what I did not want to say or admit. “Pungent” shares a page with “Punk”, duly noted.

David Foster Wallace was said to love words, and not just deeply but he got around.

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Big ups for Lisa Brown’s ‘vagina’

SCHAUER/BROWN FOR MICHIGAN 2014

I am here to offer big ups to Michigan representative Lisa Brown for her “vagina.” Brown_072606_110I heard this on NPR. A politician in the midwest got in trouble for saying something to the effect of “thank you for your interest in my vagina”. They were talking about health care, women’s health, birth control or some such. The commentator on NPR his name was Nunnberg or something; they said his up and coming issue is called “Ascent of the A-word”.

http://www.amazon.com/Ascent-A-Word-Assholism-First-Sixty/dp/1610391756

The story also referenced the Yalies who don’t know their heads from their Aesops’s when it comes to PC language and hazing; “no means yes, yes means something we cannot mention, even in plastic alto land.” A nuisance about language.

The reporter also mentioned a Rachel Gerstein which reminds me that I know a Gerstein (but not in the biblical sense, only the platonic sense, or as if I was Bill Clinton and she was my intern; well, that’s not true either, Gerstein wore the pants in our relationship. We were 19; ok, she was Bill and I was Hillary or something. I digress. I forget the details).

Somewhere in here, apropos of politics, as I am an advocate for, as prophylactic protection against bad government and lack of abstinance when it comes to the huge erections of the developers, of our Sesquicentennial, the Palo Alto at 150 or Palo Alto@150, which is coming very slowly and really drawing it out for 2042 or so, the previous NPR “piece” — can I say “piece” here? — it was quite a piece — was about Richard Adler, who wrote both “Pajama Game” which I’ve never seen, nor had I heard “Hernando’s Hideaway” or what not until ten minutes ago, but I did catch “Damn Yankees” recently on dvd and noticed not “You Gotta Have Heart” which I immediately started re-writing in my head for residentialist local propaganda interests, like Le Levy, as “You Gotta Have Parking” that is if you are going to build office space for the next big IPO here you gotta have parking for your dudes, so they don’t leave their Ford Ficus in front of our house University North on streetcleaning days.  I mean to suss out the Adler Chicago Sesquicential songs. I noticed and mentioned previously that “Damn Yankees” is the source for a Woody Allen joke about someone yelling “slide” in a private moment and not meaning baseball.

I wrote to Leah Garchik not too long ago about how the society columnist for local rag mentined Eve Ensler at Castilleja but couldn’t bring herself to.. she would not mention Ensler’s most famous thingy…”The Harbougina Monologues”. Ensler has a new piece at Berkeley Rep.

I was going to write not about Lisa Brown, the “strong voice for Oakland, Mich. County”  but Tig Notaro who is written up in the Times today; I know because I invested $2.50 into the thing. The headline is “You Will Not Believe How Long This Takes” by Jason Zinoman and has to do with her constantly revising a work of progress about her stalking Taylor Dayne. I’m gonna not just link to it or cut it out and stick it in my stack of 1,000 other things to read and file but use it as actual inspiration for improving my Jim Harbaugh monologue (the one I so cleverly alluded to above, which is influenced by Ensler “The Vagina Monologues”). I was losing hope on my Harbaugh hater trick. Although I did run it by at least two known talent entities, Joe Sib and Rinde Eckert.

Not to digress –although I live for digressions — hopefully more like Leonard Bloom nine days late than your average loony talking into his invisible cellphone on the street — but I met the artist Owen Smith and had noticed him a few weeks back regarding his literary referencing public transit murals — people reading either Dashiell Hammett or Jack London in transit, and the characters and scenarios creep charmingly off the pages and into the picture; I mentioned to Owen Smith that Rinde Eckert is doing a new work (his new thingy) based on “Call of the Wild” — maybe little interloper that I am

edit to add, nine minutes later — Due to the vagaries – -can I say “vagaries” here? — of the system at the Palo Alto public libraries, I got logged off mid-sentence. Anyways, maybe Rinde can hire Owen to do backdrops the way SF Opera apparently has had Jun Kaneko put his touch on their magic flute.  He at least gave them head, as I described above.

Rachel Gerstein may or may not have been namechecked by Geoffrey Nunberg in his piece. Rachel is a former Palo Altan — post-doc work at Stanford, works at UMass — and is smart and feministic so would probably have a lot to add to the discussion of Lisa Brown’s “vagina” or Nunberg or Plastic Alto. Her sister was my classmate at Dartmouth; we met freshman fall at Daily D, briefly dated, were platonic friends for ten or more years thereafter and I last saw her at my 25th reunion in June 2o11, Charlotte Gerstein. Another Gerstein sib works or worked “long time” for Joe Lieberman.

Way off topic but I noticed that the name “Fay Zenoff” popped up in my “dashboard” here at wordpress. I had not written about Fay Zenoff but someone seeking to read about her or perhaps Fay herself wandered out of bonds here; I had written about seeing Queen in 1976 or so with Andy Zenoff AND about having a former client named Lisa Fay Beatty and semi-omniscent search-injun wrongly put the idea in my head that I should venture that former pre-teen kid sister of my best friend from 7th and 8th grades is now divorced mother of two with an MBA living and Marin and running healing heart seminars, and looking curiously or alluringly like her mother Nancy or Nisha Zenoff did, when the Zenoffs first moved to Callado Lane in Atherton with that big black pool and tennis court. So little Fay now has offspring older than we were back then.

I was going to also write about someone I have never met, the venture capitalist (with 17,000 social media followers, to my 20,000 total readers here so far at Plastic Alto) by name of Hornik, who’s teenager rented out GAMH and hired some regional bands for a benefit event called It Gets Indie. I noticed in his blog that he claims to sit on Splunk Board or something with Nick Sturiale and says he has known Nick for more than a decade. Nick Sturiale my Gunn classmate and former Los Altos Hills Senior Little League Expos teammate who hated the clarinet such that he would put off practicing until 15 minutes before you and he were due to go to the movies or Old Mill Mall; “ear training” for him at the time meant his mom dragging him by ears back to his bedroom to practice while chum or chums sat in the next room staring at the ceiling or flipping thru magazines. The same charming search-injuns have another Nick Sturiale as music director for a burlesque act in Frisco circa 1930’s; Nick’s brother Grant Sturiale is a Broadway music honcho meanwhiles. The promoting prowess of Hornik the junior reminds of Danny Scher who was said to hustle paid gigs at pizza parlor for a combo of jazz musicians including himself when they were in 8th grade, according to my dentist here. Danny Scher who also got Thelonious Monk to play at Paly, and got Journey to play the Tri-School Formal when his kid brother was a sophomore.

Revising big ups to Lisa Brown, Rachel Gerstein, Geoff Nunberg, Nick Sturiale, Fay Zenoff, Andy Zenoff, the Hornik’s whom I have never met, Eve Ensler, Tig Notaro and my nemesis Jim Harbaugh, who will, mark my words, someday quit pro football not for care racing but to play handdrums in a world music group, not unlike the Kyle McLachan Mayor character in “Portlandia”.

Or as the late George Carlin would say: Lisa, you cannot even say “teats” unless your on at 5 in the morning and your guest is a cow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgZZ82tp5es

edit to add, later that same library visit: I wanted to add the link to the actual Times story that re-routed my day — and I had 20 items on a to do list — before I re-routed again to discuss the V-word. This. But then I also clicked thru to youtube were 32,000 of us have heard the Tig Notaro actual riff on Taylor Dayne, which takes about 12 minutes in this format. Ok, I think this changes my life in general and in particular about my work in progress monologue on Jim Harbaugh, the football coach. Accepting the fact that is is real standup, joke, laughs, jokes, building, et cetera, and mine is a post-modern experimental piece where I perform it differently each time, improvising and ask the audience not to laugh for at least two hours after leaving. I will have to read a little deeper into the times piece. Did I mention that the online version has a title referencing “repetition” whereas the print version I bought for two-and-a-half zuzim references duration over repetition? Or maybe I should re-mouth the Harbaugh piece about how I keep bumping into him and offering the same but mundane sincere compliment? Like, “Excuse me, I just wanted to say I like your speaking voice — have you considered voiceover work? Aren’t you from Paly?”

In my to-do list I had promised myself that indeed, whether I stick with the improv thing or not, I will someday, maybe today or this week, write an actual 20,000 words or so on Harbaugh. Also, I envision the punch-line or the payoff as the audience all yelling out in unison – with a neon scoreboard cuing them — HIKE THE FUCKING BALL, HARBAUGH. That is, if I can say “gerund obscene” here, or at the Philz open mics.

It’s hard.

Or if you want to go deeper into Lisa Brown’s “vagina” problem you can climb onto the Huffington Post.

This is like a drum solo that doesn’t know when to quit but I am recalling that the day I visited Don Lucoff in his Philly area home office I took the bus from Center City, got there early and scored a copy of Richard Alder’s biography from the local library surplus sale — although at the time I didn’t know the song, “Heart” or “You Gotta Have Heart” which I guess also gave us title of baseball in Japan book “You gotta have wa”.

And from the Wesleyan sight about Rinde Eckert’s upcoming workshop there and his new piece The Last Days of the Old Wild Boy:

Rinde Eckert, a celebrated playwright, is currently in residency at Wesleyan as part of the Creative Campus Initiative in conjunction with the Theater Department. Eckert is developing a new play that will be performed with Wesleyan students on November 15-17, 2012. The project is currently titled The Last Days of the Old Wild Boy – a man raised by wolves finds himself toward the end of his life at the top of the food chain, powerful and erudite, but longing for a return to the wilderness of the wolf he once was. How does one recover one’s original, less conditioned or acculturated self? What is gained in the effort? What is lost in translation? When one’s axiomatic habits of mind cease to be useful, how does one circumvent them, reinvent oneself as less neurotic, more the author of ones actions than the prisoner of one’s fears and unconscious longings? Does the epistemology of the animal offer us a nonlinguistic model of any practical use to our quest for an authentic present? Our language gets us in deep trouble and elevates us at the same time. Should I be howling now?

Right arrow into not Ginzburg but Smith: see especially, for currency, number 6 of pieces 8.

edit to add, almost two years later: the internal infernal WordPress feature recommended that neophyte “Plastic Alto” readers check this post out, after reading something about Archers of Loaf and the Foothill College’s teachers flawed memoir of my role in her class, but what I noticed is that it does not or I did not note a “category” so I log on here to check the boxes (!) “sex” (meaning feminism) and “Plato’s Republic” (meaning government or policy), but I also notice Tig Notaro and fact that she appeared at Stanford a few weeks ago but I saw the flyer too late and am losing a step. I had pretty much abandoned the Harbaugh tribute excepting fact that Ann Killion had a rant claiming “his act has worn thin” which I wanted to note and respond to, plus the fact that Steve Cohen and I sat within spitting distance of Jim Harbaugh at Stanford-Utah basketball game and that Our Boy Jim was there with his four-year-old daughter from his second and current marriage and had trained her to wave a pom-pon non-stop     until start of fourth quarter and that visiting high school girls basketball teams wanted to pose with him en masse. Weird (and I probably should not comment, and had refrained until just now, and bury this, sort of. There is also something about Harbaugh doing push-ups at Marine World in Vallejo Six Flags with a female walrus, that a couple electronic news outlets recast. Big ups for Six Flags) -30-

edita  againa: an earlier version of this from the addition of today, March 18, 2014, or two years after the original post, used the word “long-time” but then I felt bad about it and deleted it. I read thru numerous entries on the leading search engine to see if a subset of readers would chose the wrong reference and connotation and let it ride so to speak but even though only two people had possibly seen this in the couple hours since I published, I decided to delete. I briefly thought of an entry just on the various uses that come up; there’s about five songs, including one from the band Boston. Also, it definitely occurs to me that this is the roughest topic I’ve written and to the extent that I for example loosely advised the parent or parents of a young female artist, I would not have wanted to read this first about my work. In general, I side with Representative Brown and admire her courage, even if I am sort of making fun of her. Maybe I was exposed to early to George Carlin and his use of double entendre, something about his “thrust” for decency.

edita, for the very last time: ok, if someone is actually reading this super-closely, he or she may be confused about saying I had deleted a term “long-time” because a subset of hypothetical readers might project onto my usage an unfortunate potential connotation; the term does appear in the original post about a Joe Lieberman staffer I once met — I deleted it from a version of this apropos of the football player.

edit to add, two years, two months later, campaign 2014: as fate would have it, I wandered into a Old Palo Alto fundraiser for Democrat Mark Schauer, who is leading according to polls in his effort to become the next governor of Michigan, and the tie-in here is that he chose Lisa Brown as his running mate (for Lt. Governor). Meanwhile I am running for Palo Alto City Council (and met Mark while waiting my turn, at a panel of environmentalists — I had walked 1.4 miles there but arrived two hours early and something sent me towards Schauer, as strange as that sounds. I asked a couple questions, based on Reich and Packer, and actually left wanting to work for Mark Schauer in Michigan should he prevail while I falter (or not make as much dramatic progress as I have since 2009, to increase at this rate). I am hoping to break away from Palo Alto to catch up to Schauer and Perkins (his treasurer, also on this junket) in Detroit and maybe Ann Arbor, in October. We also have a plan for me to write a white paper on luring artists to Detroit, or arts funding as stimulus spending. More to come. Mark reminds me of Buddy Teevans, the Dartmouth coach and former QB. Mark went to A College in Michigan, with advanced degrees from Western Michagan and MSU Sparta. I sent the previous version of above to him, but truthfully, maybe I could have crafted a tighter version. Michael Moore (“Roger and Me”) did a benefit for him.

Dahlia Lithwick oozes some rather pungent prose about the need to regulate the use of the word “vagina”: v

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Burden of truth

One of these days I will post an essay about the following texts (based on the “60 Minutes” coverage of item A):

Greg Mortensen Four Cups of Tea
Helena Norberg Hodge Ancient Futures: Learning from Ladakh
Marlo Morgan Mutant Message Down Under
David Shields Reality Hunger
Dao Strom Chickens, sex worker
John Steinbeck Tortilla Flats
John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men
John Steinbeck Grapes of Wrath
Shields on Daniel Dafoe

Travels with Charley

Cf: Mateo Romero “Red Man’s Burden”
Bhi Bhiman Kimchee Line w. Adam Johnson of Stanford on Charlie Rose
Steve and Eric Cohen 25 Years of Fox I kissed everybody on that show. I kissed a lot of people.
I kissed Ally McBeal by Steve Cohen (with Eric Cohen)

edit to add, July 13: San Jose Metro has a piece on an out of print 1960s memoir by William Craddock. Calls to mind both my advocacy of the late Alden Van Buskirk and my ongoing dialogue with Foothill instructor Dr. Jordana Finnegan.

Also on my reading list — if that is what this is, albeit fictitious — is Jennifer Egan’s “goon squad” book which is indebted to Jason Schlichter’s memoir about Semisonic. And my neighbor Jon Ford, the erudite rock star daddy, says that Egan dated Steve Jobs.

Lastly, for now, I visited the Steinbeck Center in Salinas and procured and am ingesting “In Dubious Battle”. Amazon has about 49 mostly very positive reviews for this work, compared to about 700 for “Grapes of Wrath” and 1,200 for “Of Mice and Men”.

 

edita: speaking of burden of the awful truth, it took me 18 months locked in a mental prison to realize I had mis-identified Adam Johnson as “Greg Anderson” — actually have still not released poor protagonist from the torture chamber of the first 60 pages or so.

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‘Your music can change the world’: Rosemond Jolissaint pka T-Rosemond

I met Rosemond Jolissaint the performer known as T-Rosemond at Fete De La Musique in Palo Alto last Sunday. He happened to be scheduled at 456 University, in front of the historic and beloved former Varsity Theatre, a site upon which I have kept a keen eye (the theatre was converted to a chain book store in 1995; when the store left in August, many people started talking about the prospects for music and film returning to The Varsity).

I was so impressed with Rosemond’s set at the street fair that I invited him to return to the same site 72 hours later for Solstice.

What I didn’t realize until having a burrito with him directly before his hit is what an amazing story he is.

Rosemond is famous in his country Haiti. He won a contest at age 16 that is their version of “American Idol”. He is from the provincial countryside and won the contest with a song he wrote himself about the plight of the common man in Haiti. Or so he says: most of his songs are in Creole.

An American, a freshly minted Stanford-trained activist, met  Rosemond in Haiti a few years later and sponsored his journey to the U.S., to further his music career here and raise consciousness and maybe funds for his country. He is 21 now, says he has a music visa, and was living in Palo Alto but now is staying with friends in the North Bay. The gigs have been somewhat infrequent, by my reckoning, especially for someone with his prodigious talent and such a compelling back-story. I could envision him gaining some momentum with more frequent shows and then landing a record deal on Ani DiFranco’s Righteous Babe, Cumbancha (Rupa Marya, Andy Palacio) or Jack Johnson’s Brushfire Records. He also conjures up: “Once”, “Crocodile Dundee”, Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” and Corey Harris’s MacArthur Funded reggae project. Could he do a Creole adaptation of Green Day’s “American Idiot” show?

I find the story quite compelling and am researching how viable his quest is and how I might help. (I made only a token relief effort so far, by texting a small donation to Wyclef’s Yele fund, right after the earthquake).

I definitely feel Rosemond made a tangible contribution to our community with his shows Sunday and Wednesday.

I counted about 200 people passing by during his 90 minute set, as the beautiful solstice sky slowly darkened.

About 12 people dropped money in his box. Two bought cds, for $10 each. Workers from two different restaurants nearby first popped their heads out and then came by during their breaks. I explained his performance to some passerys-by. Some asked about the Haitian flag he clipped to the chain-link gate in front of the Varsity courtyard.

A frat-type young dude did not break stride but said “Keep it up, bro!”.

A young Latina woman said “I don’t understand what he says, but I like it.”

He played six or seven originals in rotation plus covers by Bob Marley (“Redemption”) and Tracy Chapman (“Talking ‘Bout a Revolution”).

On our way to my car we ran across a young man named Isaiah Perkary, 19, who said this was his first time busking. Rosemond and Isiah jammed together nicely on guitar and violin and exchanged contact info.

When I dropped Rosemond at the station I said to him “Your music can change the world”.

Rosemond’s revolution sounds like a whisper but with time it could roar like the Lion of Judah. Stay tuned.

T-Rosemond in front of the historic Varsity Theatre in Palo Alto

Isaiah Perkary, 19, home-schooled in EPA, attends Biola College, plays tennis and could fit in with a group of Haitians with his fiddle

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Shiver me timbres: my Norah jones gives me goosebumps

Norah Jones did have a pirate song on her last cd, which I dutifully procured, not just to count how many Bay Area jazz stalwarts were still in her camp. So as I thought about this new cd, “little broken hearts” (2012, Blue Note) the pirate pun precipitated. The cover art evokes a cult film called Mudhoney (which is also a band).

I played about a minute of each track, during my 12 minute commute from apartment to girlfriend’s house, to feed the cocker (named Frida, you already know if you are TLPW456 and P.A.). Like most things these days, it reminds me of David Shields. Shields says plot is dead it’s all about voice. On “LBH”, it is all about trendy production styles from Danger Mouse and his buds. Also, Norah wrote all the songs, which is just as well. Reminds me of review of Alanis at Shoreline and daily music beat writer trotted out the line about she could sing the phone book and people would still like. Here they did the Richard Julian / Jessie Harris thing to Sasha Dobson, for reasonable results (Norah Jones without Norah per se) and now we have Norah’s name and voice (and writing — no Harris here) but none of her music. Eli Wolf is still there, as A & R; Eli Wolf who I met outside a Liberty Ellman hit, who I stopped — we both waiting for cabs — because he had a Ropeadope windbreaker on.

I feel qualified to comment knowingly on Norah Jones — and have indeed bought all the cds so far — even in snarky cryptic shorthand and ramblings because I was in the Charlie Hunter extended jazz family when all of us were among the first 5,000 people (out of the eventual 20 million) to feel her. And because I called on Liberty Ellman in his Brooklyn flat, where he had her gold record on his wall, unless that was in his office, I forget. (Oddly, someone told me recently that there was a rumor that Liberty and Norah are cousins; weird).

This is almost as weird segue but while we are on topic of discussing an artist by only mentioning her producer, it reminds me that when I saw Jenny Scheinman in Springfield, IL (BACKSTAGE, COLLEGE RADIO SHOW, 2009) she said go ahead and send her a white paper on producers for her upcoming; I was gonna run the gamut from Brian Eno to various pressings of Tucker Martine wanna-be’s. This was b.b. –before blog — so the thing never got past mental ruminations while water ran down the shower drain. Number 7 seems like a hit. Oh, sita; mis-spoke; Norah did not write all these her selfishly; Brian Burton co-wrote 12 tracks. Danger, danger, will rob in sun, not secretly.

Although you don’t see it here, I was noting on one of the late night shows that Norah was playing guitar not keys. Reminds me that when I was Henry Butler’s manager, and he was on the Billy Taylor show, his assistant told me that they fished for Norah to be on the same broadcast (who settled for: HB, Jason Moran, Freddie Cole and that guy whose name escapes me but plays with his mother, Bill Charlap, plus Andrew Hill – – WOW; Bettina Owens, the booker).

(and don’t get me wrong, namaste, I root for Norah Jones; BUY THE CD, Y’ALL; on pirate songs, I like the Norah but the highwater mark, not Jimmy Buffett, but Rupa Marya; and I forget how I was going to tie in, so here it is gratuitously — plasticly alto alotment — “Sita Sings the Blues” I recommend for collaborator. Wishful thin queen.

And when I mention only “track 7” I must be thinking (or, really, I’m a chubby Jap) about the old joke which search-Injuns here to a Phish forum:

A man is sent to prison for the first time. At night, the lights in the cell block are turned off, and his cellmate goes over to the bars and yells, “Number twelve!” The whole cell block breaks out laughing. A few minutes later, somebody else in the cell block yells, “Number four!” Again, the whole cell block breaks out laughing.

The new guy asks his cellmate what’s going on. “Well,” says the older prisoner, “we’ve all been in this here prison for so long, we all know the same jokes. So we just yell out the number instead of saying the whole joke.”

So the new guy walks up to the bars and yells, “Number six!” There was dead silence in the cell block. He asks the older prisoner, “What’s wrong? Why didn’t I get any laughs?”

“Well,” said the older man, “sometimes it’s not the joke, but how you tell it.” Or: plot is dead. 

edit to add: I miss-spoke. It is track #9 that is the hit. It is slightly more uptempo, traditional structure, a road song, “far/car”; plus the whole Beatles thing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynjYnKkXhbU&feature=related

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