I just created a sister blog to FFTMC called Singing the Apple. As you might have guessed, it's a blog about computers (can you hear the groans?). I guess I didn't want to sully this one. Check it out. Or not. Ha!
PS. You may also have noticed that I have come out of hiding. Yes, I am now using my un-anagramed pseudonym, along with a self-portrait cum death mask I made out of clay a while back; think of it as a step toward sincerity (or insanity--take your pick).
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
Cloud 42
I just spent the day listening to Level 42. If you listened to popular music in the 80s, you might remember what I'm talking about. The band had a few hits in North America, including "Something About You" and "Lessons in Love." But apparently they were HUGE in Europe. I was doing my bachelor of music degree from 83 to 87, and I remember these tunes as good, but not outstanding. I was mostly interested in playing my trombone back then, including in the U of C jazz band. My jazz buddies in the band all raved about how good Level 42 was, but I didn't really get it.
NOW I get it. What I didn't know back then was that the tunes making the chart were a watered down version of Level 42--tunes written and produced for the pop charts. But the band was originally more of a jazz/funk band. Yesterday, a friend of mine played a Level 42 song that somehow found its way onto his computer (better not to ask), and I was blown away by what I'd been missing out on for the last 20 years! So I went downtown yesterday and bought a couple of their early CDs, and it was like an epiphany.
The band leader, Mark King, is an unbelievable bass player--up there with Victor Wooten and Marcus Miller to my mind. And the band just grooves, song after song. I even downloaded one of their albums from the iTunes Music Store, something I have never done before. So, in two days, the number of Level 42 songs on my iPod goes from 1 to 38. Talk about an infatuation. But I suspect the love affair will last a good long time.
Anyway, I was just bouncing around the house today. If this music doesn't move you, then you might want to check yourself into the morgue. Level 42 completely lifted me out of the blues that have been drifing around the floorboards since the rain started falling 10 days ago. Take THAT nasty weather. I'm on cloud 42.
NOW I get it. What I didn't know back then was that the tunes making the chart were a watered down version of Level 42--tunes written and produced for the pop charts. But the band was originally more of a jazz/funk band. Yesterday, a friend of mine played a Level 42 song that somehow found its way onto his computer (better not to ask), and I was blown away by what I'd been missing out on for the last 20 years! So I went downtown yesterday and bought a couple of their early CDs, and it was like an epiphany.
The band leader, Mark King, is an unbelievable bass player--up there with Victor Wooten and Marcus Miller to my mind. And the band just grooves, song after song. I even downloaded one of their albums from the iTunes Music Store, something I have never done before. So, in two days, the number of Level 42 songs on my iPod goes from 1 to 38. Talk about an infatuation. But I suspect the love affair will last a good long time.
Anyway, I was just bouncing around the house today. If this music doesn't move you, then you might want to check yourself into the morgue. Level 42 completely lifted me out of the blues that have been drifing around the floorboards since the rain started falling 10 days ago. Take THAT nasty weather. I'm on cloud 42.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Laundry Day
“the still unfolded laundry warm as fresh bread in its basket.” -- Rebecca Loudon
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir ;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige ! -- Baudelaire “Harmonie du soir”
Chopin appears in the room,
conjured leisurely out of steam and ether—
languid waltz, melancholy vertigo,
sound and perfume rise in the evening air.
Conjured leisurely out of steam and ether,
her reflection gleams in the dark window;
sound and perfume rise in the evening air
warm as fresh bread in its basket.
Her reflection gleams in the dark window,
sails away from the still unfolded laundry
warm as fresh bread in its basket,
sways back and forth over the keyboard.
Sailing away from the still unfolded laundry—
melancholy waltz, languid vertigo—
swaying back and forth over the keyboard,
Chopin appears in the room.
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir ;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige ! -- Baudelaire “Harmonie du soir”
Chopin appears in the room,
conjured leisurely out of steam and ether—
languid waltz, melancholy vertigo,
sound and perfume rise in the evening air.
Conjured leisurely out of steam and ether,
her reflection gleams in the dark window;
sound and perfume rise in the evening air
warm as fresh bread in its basket.
Her reflection gleams in the dark window,
sails away from the still unfolded laundry
warm as fresh bread in its basket,
sways back and forth over the keyboard.
Sailing away from the still unfolded laundry—
melancholy waltz, languid vertigo—
swaying back and forth over the keyboard,
Chopin appears in the room.
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