My son Nick's been involved with a ton of bands, considering he's only 18. He's been playing the drums for about six years now, and my rather biased opinion is that he's an amazing drummer. He also enjoys playing keyboards and noodling on his MicroKorg. I believe Pete T. referred to that as "synthesizeritis".
Nick's latest project is White Reaper. I have no idea how he arrived at that name. It's just him & his college room mate, Anthony Esposito.
You can listen & download here:
http://whitereaper.bandcamp.com/
My favorite is track #4. Sounds to me like Jay Reatard meets the Hives.
Hope you enjoy it. I'm proud of him.
Friday, November 02, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Vacuum cleaners and hockey gods
Back in 1995/96, I wrote a weekly hockey column for the Clarksville (TN) Leaf-Chronicle. You're right to ask why. Readership of my column was probably not too impressive, since Clarksville, TN is not exactly a hockey hotbed. And my compensation for writing said article was exactly zero dollars. But I did get a free season pass to Nashville Knights (ECHL) games that season, and got to interview some players, coaches, etc. And I also got to sit in on media conference calls with NHL players. And I got to practice writing, which was the whole point anyway.
Apparently these media conference calls take some getting used to. The first couple, I just listened. I think they were with Brett Hull one week, and Steve Yzerman the next. No way was I going to ask a question. I was far too intimidated. Well around week 3, the interviewee was Pat LaFontaine. Now I'd been a hockey fan at this point for all of about two years, so I wasn't too well-versed with all things hockey, but I did know that Mr. LaFontaine was a high-character individual who also possessed hall-of-fame-caliber skills on the ice. He was a phenomenal athlete and also just a joy to be a fan of, if that's the right way to put it. He was always working with this or that charity, and saying the right thing during interviews. And scored goals quite profusely. A quick aside: Now retired from hockey, LaFontaine continues to do the right thing. In 1997, he founded Companions In Courage, a nonprofit which builds interactive playrooms for kids in hospitals throughout Canada and the U.S.
Anyway. I figured week three was as good a time as any to ask a question. I was a Sabres fan, and LaFontaine was their captain. And my favorite player. Plus, he was so high-character and professional I figured he was unlikely to be a complete ass to me if I flubbed my question. So I dialed in, and pressed whatever number you pressed to ask a question. The operator asked my name and publication, and said, 'Ok. You're in the queue. Once you're up, I'll announce your name and publication, and you can ask your question. You'll be muted until then.' So I sat there, thinking & re-thinking how to phrase my question - something to do with the influx of youth within the team, and how LaFontaine's leadership role had changed. A very professional-sounding NHL PR person welcomed everyone to the call - national hockey writers for all kinds of media outets, including Fox, ESPN, USA Today, the Hockey News, etc.... and me. Then the reporters each got a turn asking Mr. LaFontaine a question.
I should mention that I had driven home from work to do this conference call, on my lunch break. My sister-in-law was at home, cleaning the house (we lived in what we all fondly refer to as 'the commune' back then. Long story). So I'm listening to the various questions, and she fires up the vacuum cleaner in a back bedroom. As the interview continues and she winds her way through the house, closer to me, the vacuum cleaner gets louder. Pretty soon I figure my name's going to pop up on the operator's screen as the next questioner. By this time, sis is in the dining room, right next to the den where I'm sitting, so I give her a yell and a wave: "HEY! CAN YOU TURN THE VACUUM CLEANER OFF FOR A MINUTE? I'M GETTING READY TO ASK A QUESTION!"
You know the part where the operator told me I was muted? Well - she was wrong. A female reporter was in the midst of asking Mr. LaFontaine a question. And she stopped right at the point I'd been yelling. Coincidence, I thought. Right? It must be! Then she giggled. Her giggling was soon accompanied by the giggles of a few others, including LaFontaine. And then, thankfully, everyone recovered their collective air of professionalism and the interview proceeded. Ten minutes or so later, I meekly asked my question, probably doing my best to disguise my voice so as not to draw any comparisons to the phantom vacuum-cleaner yeller.
That was the last time I asked a question on the NHL weekly conference call. Thank God the NHL distributed via fax transcripts of the interviews, because I was never able to bring myself to listen to the tape. And - also thankfully - they didn't include the part about the vacuum cleaner on the transcript.
Apparently these media conference calls take some getting used to. The first couple, I just listened. I think they were with Brett Hull one week, and Steve Yzerman the next. No way was I going to ask a question. I was far too intimidated. Well around week 3, the interviewee was Pat LaFontaine. Now I'd been a hockey fan at this point for all of about two years, so I wasn't too well-versed with all things hockey, but I did know that Mr. LaFontaine was a high-character individual who also possessed hall-of-fame-caliber skills on the ice. He was a phenomenal athlete and also just a joy to be a fan of, if that's the right way to put it. He was always working with this or that charity, and saying the right thing during interviews. And scored goals quite profusely. A quick aside: Now retired from hockey, LaFontaine continues to do the right thing. In 1997, he founded Companions In Courage, a nonprofit which builds interactive playrooms for kids in hospitals throughout Canada and the U.S.
Anyway. I figured week three was as good a time as any to ask a question. I was a Sabres fan, and LaFontaine was their captain. And my favorite player. Plus, he was so high-character and professional I figured he was unlikely to be a complete ass to me if I flubbed my question. So I dialed in, and pressed whatever number you pressed to ask a question. The operator asked my name and publication, and said, 'Ok. You're in the queue. Once you're up, I'll announce your name and publication, and you can ask your question. You'll be muted until then.' So I sat there, thinking & re-thinking how to phrase my question - something to do with the influx of youth within the team, and how LaFontaine's leadership role had changed. A very professional-sounding NHL PR person welcomed everyone to the call - national hockey writers for all kinds of media outets, including Fox, ESPN, USA Today, the Hockey News, etc.... and me. Then the reporters each got a turn asking Mr. LaFontaine a question.
I should mention that I had driven home from work to do this conference call, on my lunch break. My sister-in-law was at home, cleaning the house (we lived in what we all fondly refer to as 'the commune' back then. Long story). So I'm listening to the various questions, and she fires up the vacuum cleaner in a back bedroom. As the interview continues and she winds her way through the house, closer to me, the vacuum cleaner gets louder. Pretty soon I figure my name's going to pop up on the operator's screen as the next questioner. By this time, sis is in the dining room, right next to the den where I'm sitting, so I give her a yell and a wave: "HEY! CAN YOU TURN THE VACUUM CLEANER OFF FOR A MINUTE? I'M GETTING READY TO ASK A QUESTION!"
You know the part where the operator told me I was muted? Well - she was wrong. A female reporter was in the midst of asking Mr. LaFontaine a question. And she stopped right at the point I'd been yelling. Coincidence, I thought. Right? It must be! Then she giggled. Her giggling was soon accompanied by the giggles of a few others, including LaFontaine. And then, thankfully, everyone recovered their collective air of professionalism and the interview proceeded. Ten minutes or so later, I meekly asked my question, probably doing my best to disguise my voice so as not to draw any comparisons to the phantom vacuum-cleaner yeller.
That was the last time I asked a question on the NHL weekly conference call. Thank God the NHL distributed via fax transcripts of the interviews, because I was never able to bring myself to listen to the tape. And - also thankfully - they didn't include the part about the vacuum cleaner on the transcript.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Robert Greenberg
A couple of years ago I was at our local library & checked out volume I of an 8-volume-or-so set (8 CD's in each volume) called 'How To Listen To & Understand Great Music.' A Gregorian Chants - thru - Shostakovich rundown of classical music. Hours and hours of lecture & short sample segments of music. I expected it to be dry as a bone but informative if I managed to stay awake.
I think what motivated me to pick this set up was the fact that I'd been in touch with Andy Newman, of 'Thunderclap Newman' fame. I'd published my 'Who Are You' book probably a year before, and was still attempting to improve it. I was under the (now I understand delusional) impression that I'd get an opportunity to update the book at some point in the future, so I did several interviews during this period, including a lengthy one with Mr. Newman, an engaging, warm character who seemed pleased to share what I can only describe as his encyclopedic knowledge of music with me. Too bad I didn't get to include anything from this interview in the book. I'll save the details of our conversation for a further blog post or two, but, in addition to discussing such varied topics as Thunderclap Newman, Bix Beiderbecke, cricket and Muhammad Ali, we discussed the influence of Baroque music on Pete Townshend's compositions, especially that of Henry Purcell. This got me thinking: What I knew about Baroque, or any other classical music at the time, to borrow a term I first picked up from Dougal Butler in his "Moon the Loon" book, I could put in a gnat's piss pot and still have room for the piss.
So I began listening to the aforementioned series of CD lectures. The lecturer is one Robert Greenberg, a musicologist & composer & I believe a college professor in California. Now - to state the obvious - these CD lectures are really made - or broken - by the guy doing the lecturing. It can be the most interesting subject matter in the world, but if the lecturer is about as interesting as Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, then your eyes will roll back in your head in no time, and off goes the switch in your brain.
No such problem with Dr. Greenberg. This guy is clearly profoundly turned on by the subject matter, and his preparation for these courses is simply incredible. I listened to all 60-some CDs, each about 45 minutes long, and found them enriching, enlightening, enjoyable... you get the point. I looked forward to getting in my car for the drive to work so I could listen to the next segment. Imagine that: Looking forward to the drive to work.
Our library just got another series lectured by Dr. Greenberg - a 24-CD set on symphonies. I just finished the last CD today. I think Greenberg may have even improved. I've now listened to probably about 90 CDs of this guy's lectures, and can remember one - ONE - instance of an "um". His preparation is flawless. The flow and structure of his lectures is clean, seamless and thoroughly professional. Which sounds boring as hell, I acknowledge. But then there's two things:
Passion: Before playing certain samples, he'll describe what we're about to hear as 'exquisite', 'devastating', 'stunning'... etc - and you can tell he means it. You can tell that this music brings him great joy and enriches his life. You can imagine him listening to Dvorak's cello concerto in B minor or Shostakovich's 10th symphony, with tears running down his face. His normal speaking voice is sharp, clear and peppy. When emphasizing a quote, he sometimes yells. His energy and enthusiasm are infectious.
Sense of humor: In the symphony series, he managed to use the term 'bitchy' to describe a few composers and their audiences, he was able to wrestle Sophia Lauren's body parts into a metaphor for beauty, and sprinked other odd references throughout the course, including sumo wrestlers, 40 pound schnitzels, and merde-storms. He sometimes follow quoting a composer's misguided summary of the meaning of his own work or a critic's hack-job with "riiiiiiiiight," or "whatever dude".
Greenberg's approach is thoroughly professional but equally thorough in passion. He has exposed me to Haydn, Handel, Bach, Beethoven, Shostakovich, Mahler, Dvorak, Mozart, Ives, Barber, Wagner, Schubert... dozens and dozens of others. His mini-biographies of each composer were fascinating - his little asides which humanized the composers and created context for their work were enthralling. He sometimes lost me when he got into the nuts & bolts of the compositions - recapitulations, sonata form, modulating bridges, etc. - but I feel that he presented the essence of each composer's work and never failed to deliver.
Dr. Greenberg, thank you. Now I need to pick up a copy of your book.
I think what motivated me to pick this set up was the fact that I'd been in touch with Andy Newman, of 'Thunderclap Newman' fame. I'd published my 'Who Are You' book probably a year before, and was still attempting to improve it. I was under the (now I understand delusional) impression that I'd get an opportunity to update the book at some point in the future, so I did several interviews during this period, including a lengthy one with Mr. Newman, an engaging, warm character who seemed pleased to share what I can only describe as his encyclopedic knowledge of music with me. Too bad I didn't get to include anything from this interview in the book. I'll save the details of our conversation for a further blog post or two, but, in addition to discussing such varied topics as Thunderclap Newman, Bix Beiderbecke, cricket and Muhammad Ali, we discussed the influence of Baroque music on Pete Townshend's compositions, especially that of Henry Purcell. This got me thinking: What I knew about Baroque, or any other classical music at the time, to borrow a term I first picked up from Dougal Butler in his "Moon the Loon" book, I could put in a gnat's piss pot and still have room for the piss.
So I began listening to the aforementioned series of CD lectures. The lecturer is one Robert Greenberg, a musicologist & composer & I believe a college professor in California. Now - to state the obvious - these CD lectures are really made - or broken - by the guy doing the lecturing. It can be the most interesting subject matter in the world, but if the lecturer is about as interesting as Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, then your eyes will roll back in your head in no time, and off goes the switch in your brain.
No such problem with Dr. Greenberg. This guy is clearly profoundly turned on by the subject matter, and his preparation for these courses is simply incredible. I listened to all 60-some CDs, each about 45 minutes long, and found them enriching, enlightening, enjoyable... you get the point. I looked forward to getting in my car for the drive to work so I could listen to the next segment. Imagine that: Looking forward to the drive to work.
Our library just got another series lectured by Dr. Greenberg - a 24-CD set on symphonies. I just finished the last CD today. I think Greenberg may have even improved. I've now listened to probably about 90 CDs of this guy's lectures, and can remember one - ONE - instance of an "um". His preparation is flawless. The flow and structure of his lectures is clean, seamless and thoroughly professional. Which sounds boring as hell, I acknowledge. But then there's two things:
Passion: Before playing certain samples, he'll describe what we're about to hear as 'exquisite', 'devastating', 'stunning'... etc - and you can tell he means it. You can tell that this music brings him great joy and enriches his life. You can imagine him listening to Dvorak's cello concerto in B minor or Shostakovich's 10th symphony, with tears running down his face. His normal speaking voice is sharp, clear and peppy. When emphasizing a quote, he sometimes yells. His energy and enthusiasm are infectious.
Sense of humor: In the symphony series, he managed to use the term 'bitchy' to describe a few composers and their audiences, he was able to wrestle Sophia Lauren's body parts into a metaphor for beauty, and sprinked other odd references throughout the course, including sumo wrestlers, 40 pound schnitzels, and merde-storms. He sometimes follow quoting a composer's misguided summary of the meaning of his own work or a critic's hack-job with "riiiiiiiiight," or "whatever dude".
Greenberg's approach is thoroughly professional but equally thorough in passion. He has exposed me to Haydn, Handel, Bach, Beethoven, Shostakovich, Mahler, Dvorak, Mozart, Ives, Barber, Wagner, Schubert... dozens and dozens of others. His mini-biographies of each composer were fascinating - his little asides which humanized the composers and created context for their work were enthralling. He sometimes lost me when he got into the nuts & bolts of the compositions - recapitulations, sonata form, modulating bridges, etc. - but I feel that he presented the essence of each composer's work and never failed to deliver.
Dr. Greenberg, thank you. Now I need to pick up a copy of your book.
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