Infectious...

Infectious...

If you can watch this without moving, you need someone to check your pulse to make sure you're alive:



The second tune from Donnell Leahy's first set (where he really starts rocking - at about 5:20) is "The Bank's Hornpipe." I've had it on my 'to learn' list for maybe 20 years.

This is enough to get it up near the top. What a romp.

Cood in d' noes

Cood in d' noes

Tonight was to be an Owl's practice, but a few minutes ago I canceled out so I could stay home and rest. Sometime this morning I instituted the 'wash my hands each time I touch a kleenex' policy when I realized that the sneezing wasn't from dust. Everybody I know has been fighting colds so I guess it is inevitable that I'd land one. I think this is the second of the winter. Blech. I looked in a mirror this afternoon and wondered if I was turning into a raccoon thanks to the black circles under my eyes.

All of a sudden I have a bunch of music gigs coming up. The Schmaltzentrubers agreed to play a few tunes for a fund raiser for the Northridge Dollars For Scholars programs next Tuesday.

This Saturday night the MCCO is playing a concert with music by Mozart, Telemann and Villa-Lobos. The Mozart (Symphony #35) is pushing my chops, and I've been putting a lot of practice time in. I wish both my fingers and memory moved faster. But it is a beautiful piece of music. The Villa-Lobos is the sleeper on the program.

Finally, next Saturday night (the 28th) the Owls are playing for the Empty Soup Bowl benefit. You will have to donate to attend this one - $15 for a bowl and supper.

Come on out to any and all of these.

Speaking of music, last Sunday afternoon I got over to ND to hear the Turtle Island SQ. Great music.

Last but not least, it isn't to late to catch my friend Floyd's blog about his time in Guatamala. Great photos about his hike last weekend on an active volcano. Wish I was there.

Feeling Owlish?...

Feeling Owlish?...

The Barn Owls will be playing at Rachel's Bread from about 6-8 tomorrow night. Come on down for some really good food and some not bad music.

New White House Blues...

New White House Blues...

Back in 1926, Charlie Poole recorded McKinley Blues, a song about the McKinley assassination. Someone rewrote that in 1932 about the election of FDR.

My brother Pete picked up the tradition and rewrote the song as the New White House Blues. We played it at Rachel's last night:

New White House Blues

Obama’s in the White House, to do his best
Bush is back in Texas, taking his rest
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Look here Mr. Bush, it’s see what you’ve done
Started that war, left this country go to ruin
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Got homeland security, my phone line is tapped
Soldiers fightin Mideast and I’m a fightin’ that
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Cheney was a bad man and we’re all glad he’s gone
Took all his privilege, won’t tell what he’s done
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Car’s are too big and gas prices soar
Now we need a bailout, tell me who’s that for?
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Work is all gone, unemployment’s high
Man without a job, feels about to die
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Tried to buy a house, it ain’t worth a dime
Now they tell me, just a matter of time
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Oh Mr. Bush, we all got the blues
Looking ‘round a thrift store for a pair of worn out shoes
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

Mr. Bush is gone and we are feeling glad
Obama’s in the White House, How can we be sad?
And he’s gone, I’m glad he’s gone

(c) 2008 by Pete Miller

Weekend music...

Weekend music...

A friend offered me tickets to hear the Brentano String Quartet this Friday evening. Then Elana and The Hot Club of Cowtown are back in town this Sunday. Be there.

I close out the weekend Sunday evening providing ambiance with the Owl's for Rachel's Open House.

Cedar Creek Luthiers...

Cedar Creek Luthiers...

Check out my cousin in this news story, or read the transcript here.

Actually Charlie has been building guitars for 33 years. I know because he and I built the first one together in my basement at 15 Hilda Place in the winter of 1975. He's gone on and actually gotten quite good at it.

Hilary Hahn was...

Hilary Hahn was...

Hilary Hahn - the world famous violin soloist that came last night to play with the South Bend Symphony - the same Hilary Hahn that I've admired since she burst on to the world stage at 17 with an energetic recording of Bach's Suites and Partitas for Solo Violin - the same Hilary Hahn that I purchased concert tickets for over two months ago - was...

Early.

Yes, you read it right: Hilary Hahn was early.

When I got my tickets in the mail in early March I put them in my wallet because I didn't want to lose them. They were showing some wear and tear from riding in my back pocket with George and Abe and Andrew, but yesterday morning I took them out, double-checked the concert time, yep - 7:30, and figured backwards when I'd need to leave my house to have to dinner with a friend and still get to the concert on time.

Everything went without a hitch. We had decided to eat at the Thai place on N Main so that we could park once and walk around the block. As I pulled up (around 6pm) I saw people heading to the hall, but I figured maybe there must be a pre-concert lecture that we hadn't signed up for. My tickets said 7:30. Everything was cool. So we had a leisurely supper and arrived 15 minutes before the curtain to find the foyer virtually empty.

A friendly volunteer said "Oh, you must have been one of the ticket holders who didn't get notified. They moved the concert forward an hour. It started at 6:30. You can't go in until the intermission."

I was proud of myself: I didn't swear once at any of the volunteers. I thought for a while that they would put Hahn's solo at the end of the concert and that I might still hear her. But no, she played right before the intermission. After her solo they let us into the hallway that buffers the concert hall from the outside foyer, and we could watch her play an encore - the first movement of the Bach Partita in D minor - through a glass window. I could only hear fragments. It was like being in a dream - a bad dream.

Then it was intermission, and I found a Symphony employee to vent to. She took it, but there really wasn't anything she could do. (Really - even then I didn't swear.) They've promised me a refund, and yes I want my money. But I wanted to hear Hahn. I could have stayed and watched the second half, but I was too upset to sit quietly and fume about what I had missed.

In the course of human affairs - with wars waging in Afganistan and Iraq, with global warming and a declining dollar and record oil prices - this is a minor event. But moving the concert ahead an hour was a boneheaded thing to do. My anger has subsided, but I'm still disappointed.

Mambo...

Mambo...

Looks like as much fun as the MCCO.

The family that blogs together...

The family that blogs together...

Every once in a while you pull the lever and all three pieces of fruit line up and you get the jackpot. I've never actually had that happen, but I imagine that it feels the same as when Not That Far, Some Bird and Kansas City Soil all post at roughly the same time. Cultural news, feast photos and some pretty good jokes all in five minutes. What a blast.

Tonight was another shot at fame and fortune for the Schmaltzentrubers. We played a pro bono gig for the folks at the Greencroft Health Care Center. Last time we played Greencroft it was for the monthly birthday party for people who could get around. This was a far tougher crowd because they kept wondering away or falling asleep on us. Fortunately there were a few ringers in the crowd (OK - I talked my mother into coming over) who could not only hear the lyrics but also understand them. We were a big hit. I know that because June AY's mother was in the back row shouting "More! More!!" at the end of the program. Someone suggested that if she had had a lighter she would have been holding it up.

It was a good thing she didn't have a lighter.

The only thing better than the satisfaction of playing for a group like this may be the band adjourning to Constant Spring after the show over a couple of really cheap beers and a Pork BBQ sandwich. Good company.

In other news - after a month of searching I think I've found my replacement for the guy that bailed on me last month. He won me over in the first interview, and his references can't say enough good things about him. I've done a lot of interviews over the years, and I think I can tell the real thing when I see it. I think this guy is it. I'm interviewing him again tomorrow with some other folks on staff, and if he comes through on that I'll offer him the position. This could be a huge improvement over where we are, and even where we were.

Fuming isn't the last word. All is well.

Concert...

Concert...

Ethel was great. High energy. Great ensemble. Brilliant musicianship. Unclassifiable genre.

Some of it pushed into jazz and beyond, with improv and a style reminiscent of Turtle Island SQ. At other times they were in pure modern music that was almost unlistenable. But not quite.

They shared music from their 'Truck Stop' tour, which is premised on landing in a space and connecting with the local musical scene. This included a piece by a young Navajo composer evoking the great southwest, and two pieces from Hawaii that somehow captured the slack key guitar tradition and the feeling of surf and sun.

They played amplified, which surprised me. Recently I had a chance to hear a more traditional string quartet perform unplugged in the same space and it worked very well. The amplification gave them more options for getting the most out of their instruments and only got in the way once when Neil's cut in and out for a few seconds during one of his solos - on his own composition no less.

Probably the high point was after playing the whole concert from behind music stands they came out for their encore and belted out a 10 minute jam that was just a blast.

Concert news bulletin...

Concert news bulletin...

This just in: Ethel is coming to Notre Dame this Saturday night.

I've been wanting to hear them for a couple years - ever since I met Neil Dufallo. Neil is the second violinist, and was the composer that wrote "Fragments of Celestial Color".

It looks like tickets are still available. Look for me down front!

Another Farewell...

Another Farewell...

Where have I been? Johnny Frigo died on July 4, 2007 at age 90 and I only found out tonight.

Johnny Frigo was my fiddle hero. I first heard him in summer 2004 at the Elkhart Jazz Festival. He played to a packed house at the top of the old Elkhart House Hotel ballroom. I sat in the front row with my jaw hanging open. He was amazing.

Then about 18 months ago I saw that he was playing a public concert in Chicago. I knew he was in his upper 80s and I figured I wouldn't have many chances to hear him again. When I walked into the theater, Johnny was walking across the lobby with a crowd of well wishers and autograph seekers. He walked right up to me, shook my hand, and said "You look familiar!" I was so surprised - I'm quite sure he didn't remember me from two years ago prior, but who really knows.

He had a stage persona that is complete corn. Shtick. At the Chicago concert he did this whole routine where he brought out this bow that he said was from Bein & Fushi - the dealer of multimillion dollar fiddles in downtown Chicago. They loaned it to him to try out, so he started playing a tune and midway through, predictably, the bow shot out of his hand in a long arc across the stage. The whole band ground to a halt while he recovered the bow. I forget the rest of the punchline - who needs one? Then there was a famous story of appearing on Johnny Carson. Carson asked him why he waited so long to become famous, he replied, "Because there won't be enough time left for me to become a has-been."

Johnny played with such swing and style. He really rocked. I would like to have seen him in his prime - say in his late 70s. Because here is the amazing (and inspirational) thing: Johnny didn't start playing jazz fiddle until he retired at 65. He studied classical violin for a couple of years when he was a kid, then picked up bass and spent his working life playing bass on commercial jingles in downtown Chicago. It was only when he retired that he devoted all his time to the fiddle.

Maybe there is hope for me yet.

Inexorable...

Inexorable...

The second movement of the Bach Double Violin Concerto (BWV1043) has this gorgeous descending melodic line that is played by one violin and then picked up and repeated by the second violin a few bars later.

When I was studying this piece with Lon years ago, he taught me to see it as one long phrase that descends inexorably through the opening bars, instead of two or three smaller phrases. The tension of that line as it descends and is woven by the two violins into a slow ('ma non tonto' - 'but not too much') fugue makes this one of the most beautiful - even profound - pieces of music in the literature.

This post brought tears to my eyes, maybe because it echoes that inexorable passage of our lives. As much as I would like to have frozen those moments, I couldn't. So many things in life - like aging and death in various forms - are uncontrollable. I think I've forgiven myself for that. Really, who would want to control them? But letting go, at least for me, isn't a "there it's done" kind of thing.

Thanks for the memories, Leena. My love to you and Ben. May your lives make beautiful music.

Beeya yadadadadadadadadadadadadadayada dadahdah Nya Nya:| ...

Beeya yadadadadadadadadadadadadadayada dadahdah Nya Nya:| ...

Elana was here. I'm reeling.

The concert last night was everything I expected. High energy. Virtuosic guitar, fiddle and bass. They were everything I remembered from the last time I heard them.

Then this morning I slipped away from work for a couple hours and met Elana for my lesson. It was a blast. Mainly we worked on Tchavola Swing. The title of this posting is my spelling of the first half of the A part. Tchavola Swing is this really hot gypsy piece that Elana stole from the movie Latcho Drom, from the playing of Dorado Schmidt, a Francophone Gypsy musician. She played it four years ago, and it has haunted me ever since. I've tried a few times to figure it out, but I couldn't get anywhere. Now I have the foundation and I think I can take it from here. Overall it was a really productive hour.

For a couple of years I took lessons from the premier classical violin teacher in town. I learned so much from him, but lessons were never this much fun. Of course the big difference is the music. With this stuff there is nothing to read, it's all watch it, listen, play it together, play it alone. Over and over again. That's not to say I don't love Bach and Mozart, or that one is better or harder or anything. It's just that "getting it right" has a whole different meaning when you're playing swing and jazz. Makes me wonder what it would be like to study, say, the Bach Partitas for solo violin aurally (like the Suzuki kids) instead of from a book.

So Elana is probably coming back in the fall. Maybe I can get another lesson then. And she said next time I'm in Austin she'll take me to hear a couple of the really good fiddlers that never get out of town. Sounds like a field trip, doesn't it?

In the meantime, any guitarists out there play in Dm?

High...

High...

Yesterday's performance of 'Fragments of Celestial Color' was an amazing experience. Many hours later I realized that it evoked some of same feelings as participating in the birth of my children some (almost) 20 and 24 years ago. Of course nothing can ever compare to the intense sense of awe and wonder you experience watching your own child come into the world, but when that last chord rang out at the end of the piece I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude, awe and wonder.

We did record it. I have to find out if I can post links. More later.