Monday, December 14, 2015

Great audio for this old of a video.



For Your Love
Graham Gouldman


(For your love)
(For your love)
(For your love)
I'd give you everything and more and that's for sure
(For your love)
I'd bring you diamond rings and things right to your door
(For your love)

To thrill you with delight, I'd bring you diamonds bright
Double takes I will excite, to make you dream of me at night
(For your love)
(For your love)
(For your love)

For your love, for your love
I would give the stars above
For your love, for your love
I would give you all I could

(For your love)
(For your love)
(For your love)
I'd give the moon if it were mine to give
(For your love)
I'd give the stars and the sun for I live
(For your love)


https://youtu.be/qQGeBynppmU

Sunday, December 13, 2015



A Blessing 
James Wright 


Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.


Saturday, December 12, 2015



 “Do not fear mistakes. There are none.”

Miles Davis


 Good stuff from Sunada Takagi.


Many years ago when I was in college, I performed a solo piano recital. Even though I prepared for months, on the day of the recital I was a nervous wreck. I still had several passages that I hadn’t been able to master, and that was just enough to shake up my confidence. I was all too familiar with every spot in those pieces that could trip me up. I remember taking a deep breath and walking out on stage with a smile plastered on my face, but behind it I was carrying a huge sense of dread.

To make a long story short, the recital worked out fine. I got a big round of applause, and lots of congratulatory hugs from my teacher and friends. But the sad thing is I missed the whole thing. I was so busy worrying about not making mistakes that I never really heard my own music-making or took in the experience. I was fortunate that the recital was recorded, so I was able to listen to my performance afterward. All those supposedly obvious and horribly embarrassing mistakes I thought I had made — in the whole scheme of things they were negligible. Most people probably didn’t even notice.

This was the beginning of my learning about the nature of fear. I tend to be a pessimist, so it’s much too easy for me to see all the ways that something can go wrong. And when I climb aboard the train of those thoughts, my view of reality can get very skewed. In fact, my negativity probably ended up to some degree becoming the proverbial self-fulfilling prophecy. Even though nothing disastrous happened, I also didn’t play anywhere near my best. I was so worried and self-absorbed that there wasn’t room for all the grand and beautiful moods and emotions that the music called for. And above all, I wasn’t there to share the experience with my audience.

In the years since, I’ve taken up meditation and have reflected often on the nature of mistakes and fear — not only in music, but more broadly as part of life. Too often we go about thinking that mistakes are bad things that we must avoid. But what are mistakes? It’s true that things often don’t go as we intended — an unfortunate fact of life — but does that make them “wrong”? Despite all my mistakes, wasn’t it ultimately my humanness (wrong notes and all) coming through the music that my listeners appreciated? Aren’t “mistakes” often opportunities in disguise?

And what about fear? Of course fear is essential for prompting us to act when we’re in danger. But was my life in danger when I walked on stage for my piano recital? What was I afraid of? And by allowing myself to be guided by fear, didn’t I limit my ability to see all the other possibilities in the situation?

Over the years, I have come to understand mindfulness as much more than slowing down to appreciate the beauty in life. I think of it as living life to its fullest — and learning to move beyond my fears, judgments, and stories that keep me from seeing and experiencing things as they really are. It’s when we’re able to be present with our experience — even when it’s scary as hell — with a calm, steady mind, that we get past our self-created fog and move out to a place of freedom and possibilities.

I think a master jazz improviser like Miles Davis is a great model for what mindful living looks like: confident and completely, fearlessly open to the present moment. That to me is the promise of mindfulness.

Friday, December 11, 2015

http://www.wired.com/2015/12/song-exploder-jeff-tweedy/

Very cool 14 minute pod cast on how Jeff Tweedy and Wilco wrote Magnetized. The song plays at the end of the pod cast.


Orchestrate the shallow pink refrigerator drone
Carried in the shadows almost bone
Everyone wastes my time

The moment that you thought would murder motions you wait
Every apprehension alien. ache, ah
Everyone wastes my time

Everybody goes I'm
I'm lonely

I sleep underneath
A picture that I keep of you next to me
I realize we're magnetized

Orchestrate the shallow pink refrigerator drone
Carried in the shadows, ah
Everyone wastes my time

I sleep underneath
A picture that I keep of you next to me
I realize we're magnetized
I realize we're magnetized

I realize we're magnetized
Realize we're magnetized



Thursday, December 10, 2015



The boys getting their Christmas muleacure.

Too cold for shampoo and cut!

 Big Toby

 Sammy Joe

Cody doesn't have to bend as much to reach Toby's foot.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015


Dreaming on Death Row

Robin Paris and Tom Williams with writing by Gary Cone, Harold Wayne Nichols, Donald Middlebrooks, "Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: The Night Sky Series." (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)
Robin Paris and Tom Williams with writing by Gary Cone, Harold Wayne Nichols, Donald Middlebrooks, “Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: The Night Sky Series” (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)

NASHVILLE — Tennessee is the buckle of the Bible belt, situated below the state of Kentucky and just north of Alabama. The temptation of fried pies, which I was told grandma made (not my Jewish grandma, however), Elvis statues as tourist attractions, and as many churches as sex shops lined the horizon of my visit to this Southern state. The second night of my stay, I stopped by a show called Unit 2 (Part 1) at Coop Gallery in downtown Nashville. Organized by Watkins College of Art professors Robin Paris and Tom Williams, this exhibition is comprised of collaborations between students and 11 prisoners on death row in the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution, in northwest Nashville.
The project sought to form connections between people on the outside — outsiders, as the prisoners call them — and insiders, the men inside who are scheduled for execution. The work in this exhibition, which includes drawings, paintings, collages, and photographs, presents a heart-wrenchingly honest portrait of our prison system, the people who are in it, and the opportunity for human connection regardless of the grim reality. The idea for this show came from the prisoners.
Unit 2 (part 1) presents two types of artworks: the first is an “add on,” which almost reminded me of the Surrealist exquisite corpse game in which the previous drawing is covered up and the next person draws on, thus adding to the work without knowing what was made before. The “add on” of this exhibition felt more like a continued visual exchange, or an ongoing conversation through drawing and text. These works felt more like ongoing thought processes than finished projects, which added a rawness to the show overall that, as a viewer, was hard to handle at times. The conversation about the prison system in America is an ongoing one, and these visual collaborations are just the tip of the iceberg.
Upreyl Mitchell and Harold Wayne Nichols, "Untitled," acrylic and colored pencil on photograph, 13" x 9" in. (photograph courtesy of Robin Paris)
Upreyl Mitchell and Harold Wayne Nichols, “Untitled” (add-on artwork), acrylic and colored pencil on photograph, 13″ x 9″ in (photo courtesy Robin Paris)
“The system of legal defense for capital cases is shoddy and poorly funded at best; there are no rich people, to my knowledge, on death row,” says co-organizer Robin Paris. “We incarcerate more of our population than any other country. I could go on and on. It’s shameful. It’s not who we think we are as a country.”
The second type of artwork is called “surrogate” and cuts right to the heart of it all. A prisoner on the inside asks someone on the outside to do something on their behalf — something that they couldn’t do because they were in prison. One of the prisoners asked their “surrogate” to go out and gaze at the stars, to enjoy them — he, the prisoner, had not seen stars in 30 years. The outsider then photographed those stars, and the prisoner wrote his text request onto the photograph, which was displayed in the gallery space. Another inmate asked their surrogate to buy a homeless man some food and then let him know that everything was going to be okay. In another photograph, an inmate asked his “surrogate” to create a portrait of him with his family that, were he out of prison, he would have been able to take himself.
Robin Paris and Tom Williams with writing by Harold Wayne Nichols, "Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: The Night Sky Series" ('It has been 25 years since I have seen the stars in the open sky!'), photograph
Robin Paris and Tom Williams with writing by Harold Wayne Nichols, “Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: The Night Sky Series” (‘It has been 25 years since I have seen the stars in the open sky!’), photograph (photo courtesy Tom Williams)
“Getting to know these men who, although they may have done a terrible thing, are more than the sum of their worst day,” says co-organizer Robin Paris, “they have taught us so much about community and about the importance of many things we might take for granted. They are people who, through bad luck, poverty, poor schools, bad decisions, are in this place, and it’s not hard to imagine that many of us could be in the very same place, but for our economic privilege.”
According to statistics from the Department of Corrections, there are currently 79 inmates on death row, and all are in for either 1st degree murder or murder 1 charges. One of the men on death row, Donald Strouth, has been there since September 1978. This show was originally hatched earlier this year with an art exhibition called Voices from Solitary: Art from Tennessee’s Death Row, which was initiated by Vanderbilt University’s Lisa Guenther. This is only part 1 of a two-part exhibition, which made me wonder about the sustainability of such an intense collaboration.
“It will go on as long as we can sustain it,” says Williams. “The prisoners’ days are numbered, which is difficult to think about, but we’d like to work with them for a long time,” says Williams. “When you’re working with prisoners on death row, it’s often best to focus on the present.”
Mika Agari, Jessica Clay, Amy Clutter, Robert Grand, Kristi Hargrove, Robin Paris, Sharon Stewart, Tom Williams, Weng Tze Yang, and Barbara Yontz, "Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: Breakfast for Dinner," photograph.
Mika Agari, Jessica Clay, Amy Clutter, Robert Grand, Kristi Hargrove, Robin Paris, Sharon Stewart, Tom Williams, Weng Tze Yang, and Barbara Yontz, “Surrogate Project for Harold Wayne Nichols: Breakfast for Dinner,” photograph
"Add-on" drawing in Unit 2 (part 1)
Nickolus Johnson and Zack Rafuls, “Untitled” (add-on drawing), mixed media on paper, 14 x 11 in
Sharon Stewart, "Surrogate Project for Kenneth Artez Henderson: Family Portrait," photograph
Sharon Stewart, “Surrogate Project for Kenneth Artez Henderson: Family Portrait,” photograph
Watkins students Jessica Clay and Robert Grand, who participate in Unit 2
Watkins students Jessica Clay and Robert Grand, who participated in Unit 2

Tuesday, December 8, 2015



Regarding (Most) Songs
Thomas Lux


            Whatever is too stupid to say
            can be sung.
            - Joseph Addison (1672-1719)

The human voice can sing a vowel to break your heart.
It trills a string of banal words,
but your blood jumps, regardless. You don’t care
about the words but only how they’re sung
and the music behind - the brass, the drums.
Oh the primal, necessary drums
behind the words so dumb!
That power, the bang and the boom and again the bang
we cannot, need not, live without,
nor without other means to make sweet noise,
the guitar or violin, the things that sing
the plaintive, joyful sounds.
Which is why I like songs best
when I can’t hear the words, or, better still,
when there are no words at all.