Mr. G's Thoughts for Free

Starting the Year with a Loss - RIP Neil Lifton

2012-01-09T14:59:00.000-08:00

Back when I was fronting the Mystery Band, I walked into Duke's Bar in Chicago's Rogers Park neighborhood, hoping to get a gig. I met Neil Lifton, who had taken over Duke's around 2004 or so. Neil turned a true skanky dive bar into a marvelous neighborhood music tavern. He was a passionate roots music fan and a passable guitarist. Neil and his wife, Mary, became pillars of the east Rogers park neighborhood and had a lot to do with the revival of the Morse Avenue/Glenwood Avenue music/arts district. The Mystery Band played Duke's many times until I shut the band down in 2010.

Neil died on January 3, 2012. He was 60 years old. He was an exuberant, fun-loving, hard-working guy. He did his best to help musicians. His tiny music room was the venue of choice for many up-and-comers, blues/roots/jazz players and the occasional star. Neil decided that his bar would be dog friendly; I remember a pooch howling along with my vocals during a gig one night. And always, Neil was a genial presence, setting the tone and keeping the patrons under control, mostly.

It is jarring when a friend dies suddenly. There will be a memorial for Neil at 5PM on January 2211 at the Lifeline Theater, 6912 W. Glenwood Avenue in Chicago. Duke's Bar is right next door....

Pearl Harbor Day - Some thoughts that I received today

2011-12-07T13:44:00.000-08:00

This showed up in my e-mail; perhaps it has already been blasted around the Web. I found it to be worth reading...

"Reflections on Pearl Harbor " by Admiral Chester Nimitz
(This is a true story: Day in American History)

1941- At 7:55 local time in Hawaii, “a date that will leave in infamy,” nearly 200 Japanese aircraft attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, long considered the US “Gibraltar of the Pacific.” The raid, which lasted little more than one hour, left nearly 3,800 dead. Nearly the entire US Pacific Fleet was at anchor there and few ships escaped damage. Several were sunk or disabled, while 200 aircraft on the ground were destroyed.

The attack on Pearl Harbor brought about immediate US entry into World War II, a “Declaration of War” being requested by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, carried live on radio, and approved in a record time by the Congress, December 8, 1941, only a few hours after President Roosevelt address to a joint meeting of Congress.

December 11, Germany and Italy, in a pact with the Japanese, declared war against the United States. Misinterpreting the anti-war sentiment in the U.S., they thought we would not want to enter two separate wars, particularly with a decimated U.S. Navy and would leave Asia and Australia for Japan to conquer. They thought American's weak and without the will, particularly without the weapons to fight back.

( lower half of http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/today/dec07.html )

In reality, Former Admiral Chester Nimitz saw three of the biggest mistakes an attack force could ever make:

Sunday, December 7th, 1941--Admiral Chester Nimitz was attending a concert in Washington D.C. He was paged and told there was a phone call for him. When he answered the phone, it was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt on the phone. He told Admiral Nimitz that he (Nimitz) would now be the Commander of the Pacific Fleet.

After making plans, organizing his staff, Admiral Nimitz flew to Hawaii to assume command of the Pacific Fleet. He landed at Pearl Harbor on Christmas Eve, 1941. There was such a spirit of despair, dejection and defeat--you would have thought the Japanese had already won the war. On Christmas Day, 1941, Adm. Nimitz was given a boat tour of the destruction wrought on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. Big sunken battleships and navy vessels cluttered the waters every where you looked.

As the tour boat returned to dock, the young helmsman of the boat asked, "Well Admiral, what do you think after seeing all this destruction?" Admiral Nimitz's reply shocked everyone within the sound of his voice. Admiral Nimitz said, "The Japanese made three of the biggest mistakes an attack force could ever make, or God was taking care of America. Which do you think it was?"

Shocked and surprised, the young helmsman asked, "What do mean by saying the Japanese made the three biggest mistakes an attack force ever made?" Nimitz explained:

Mistake number one : The Japanese attacked on Sunday morning. Nine out of every ten crewmen of those ships were ashore on leave. If those same ships had been lured to sea and been sunk--we would have lost 38,000 men instead of 3,800.

Mistake number two : When the Japanese saw all those battleships lined in a row, they got so carried away sinking those battleships, they never once bombed our dry docks opposite those ships. If they had destroyed our dry docks, we would have had to tow every one of those ships to America to be repaired. As it is now, the ships are in shallow water and can be raised. One tug can pull them over to the dry docks, and we can have them repaired and at sea by the time we could have towed them to America. And I already have crews ashore anxious to man those ships.

Mistake number three : Every drop of fuel in the Pacific theater of war is in top of the ground storage tanks five miles away over that hill. One attack plane could have strafed those tanks and destroyed our fuel supply. That's why I say the Japanese made three of the biggest mistakes an attack force could make or God was taking care of America.

Anyway you look at it--Admiral Nimitz was able to see a silver lining in a situation and circumstance where everyone else saw only despair and defeatism.

What if We Confiscated All of the Income of Those Dang Millionaires?

2011-11-17T09:29:00.000-08:00

So here is an idea - if it is correct to raise taxes on the top 1%, what if we took all of their money? Would that provide enough money to balance the budget, grow social services, etc. etc.?

In a word, "no." In two words, "Hell, no."

Let's start with the super-rich: folks that make more than $10 million. If you empty their pockets, the Feds would get around $186 billion according to my quick and dirty research (I may be off by a few billion, but close enough for government work). This would cut the Federal budget from $1.5 Trillion to $1.314 Trillion. Hmmmm. Still a pretty big hole.

So let's go after all the folks that make at least $1 million. Adding in the $1-10 million crowd would pull in around $266 billion still leaving us with a little bitty budget deficit - of $1 Trillion.

More income taxes on the top 1% won't solve our budget problems, and no one is talking about 100% tax rates. So this "99% vs 1%" dichotomy misses the point. I think the main issue is a "live now, pay later" attitude that is so deeply ingrained in our mass psyche that we don't even know it is there. Think about the housing crisis - every player in this fiasco was pushing to extract maximum benefit from the residential real estate market with little thought of the possible downside to this short-term thinking. The entire system was tilted to encourage folks to buy the biggest possible house with the smallest down payment. For many decades, U.S policy focused on promoting home ownership for everyone; interest on mortgage is tax-deductible (head north to Canada - mortgage interest isn't tax deductible there). The housing industry was artificially pumped up over the course of a couple generations. Everyone believed a lie - that real estate doesn't decline in value. But I digress...

The individuals that make up the 1.3 million tax payers in the top 1% are a pretty diverse group - doctors, lawyers, business people, entertainers, sports figures and so on. And the group isn't static - people go in and out of the group at a rapid pace depending on their earnings in a given year. My momma taught me that it is bad to villify a large group of people based on a single characteristic. Not all the folks in the top 1% are greedy bloodsuckers. Some just work hard and deploy special talents, thus earning lots of clams.

If the goal is to make the system more fair by taxing high-earning people at higher rates, it is worth remembering that the U.S. tax code is already very progressive. If you are in the bottom 50%, you are not paying a lot of Federal income taxes - in fact, the bottom 47% don't pay any Federal income tax at all (although they get socked for Social Security, Medicare, state and sales taxes). Higher rates for the top 1% might be a good thing for political brownie points and might even help national unity, but it won't fix our budget and it won't be a significant change to the current ridiculous tax system.

There are over 3.7 million words in the U.S. Tax Code. Nobody is an expert on all of its provisions. I am an aging person and I am not very bright, but I always thought that government fiscal operations could be boiled down to two questions - (1) What services do we want our government to provide? (2) How are we going to raise the revenues to pay for those services? While these two questions can't be answered independently of each other, it seems to me that the generalized answer to question number (1) has been "a whole lot" and the generalized answer to question number (2) has been "tax everyone except for me." This leads to a massive hole, which we fill with borrowed money.

When there is a significant percentage of the population that receive the benefits of the Federal government (roads/infrastructure, education spending, military protection, justice system, etc. etc.) but doesn't pay anything for the benefits, it is only natural that those folks will always seek more benefits - if it is cost-free, why not? This is the conundrum of progressive taxation systems. Flat taxes are regressive and unfairly burden lower income people but progressive taxes create moral hazard for the folks that don't pay.

It strikes me that there is a way out of this mess - a moderate path that takes good ideas from several sources. The yelling and screaming that is going on in our political system and on the streets will not help us find that path.

We know that spending has to decrease and revenues have to increase. We need to re-think and reconstruct our entire political and tax system. Subsidies have to end - no more mortgage deduction, no more agricultural subsidies, no more oil & gas depletion allowance. Social security will have to be means-tested and won't be available until you hit 70. Health care services will have to be rationed. Expensive military adventures that do not protect the United States from harm will need to be curtailed. Taxes will need to go up for everybody, not just the top 1%.

It will hurt. Lots of people will fight for their favorite subsidy/government program/tax break. No one wants to pay more taxes.

Let's get on with it.

Trombone Shorty and All That N.O. Funk

2011-10-22T01:31:00.000-07:00

First of all, I am dedicating this post to my old Cal roommate. Tyler was my "trombone brother" in those carefree college days. He is back in the woodshed, working his on his trombone chops, after a successful business career. Tyler is a huge fan of Trombone Shorty; I think they have even hung out on occassion.

Yes, yes - Trombone Shorty, aka Troy Anderson. He is only 25 years old. He plays both trumpet and trombone like a man with hundreds of years of study under his belt. TS grew up in the Treme' neighborhood of New Orleans. He is a stone N.O. guy, a grad of the New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts. He has been playing in bands since he was six years old.

TS came to Chicago last Wednesday night. Tyler flew in for the event; a group of us gathered. The Park West was full and the decible level was very high. There are six players in Shorty's band - baritone sax, tenor sax, guitar, bass and two percussionists. This band had the polish and precision that comes from playing 250 gigs a year. They provided a flawless foundation for Trombone Shorty's wild improvisations. The band also pulled a stunt durng their encore that we used to call "the Big Switch" - all the players picked up different instruments and played (Shorty on drums, the drummer on guitar, the bass player on trumpet. etc.). These guys are professionals.

Young Troy is a phenom. He is built like a welterweight boxer and dances with a boxer's masculine grace. Since I am an old trombone player, I have a deep appreciation of Shorty's towering mastery of a balky horn. Some of his excursions had me howling in amazement. His trumpet work is equally stunning - he has speed, range and power, and he also can use circular breathing to play continuously for long periods of time - a very flashy, crowd-pleasing technique. I can't think of anyone else that has conquered those two instruments so completely. I was flooded by the flow of his musical ideas.

TS is a great singer, too. His tribute to James Brown was a real eye-opener.

My main beef about the show at the Park West was the sound mix. The bass was way too heavy and devolved into an indistinct rumble that muddied up the sound of the band. Of course, I miss the days when musicians played with dynamics. The relentless volume is near-deafening and becomes stupifying after a while. And the crowd was as loud as the band.

I sound like a grumpy old man. As the t-shirt says, "If its too loud, you are too old."

I don't know if a talent like Trombone Shorty will ever cross over into the mainstream popular culture. He is certainly striving to get there.

Just another day in the Loop

2011-10-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

We have hit that warm stretch of early fall, popularly referred to as "Indian Summer." I am not sure that this description is still considered to be politically correct, but I don't know what else to call it.

There are no trees to speak of in Chicago's Loop, so we don't see the leaves turning color. As the days shorten, you notice that it is darker when you step off the train in the morning and darker when you step back on at night to go home. You are grateful for the lingering warmth because the big freeze will be on us soon enough.

A splinter group of the "Occupy Wall Street" movement has taken up residence at LaSalle & Jackson, near the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago and the Chicago Board of Trade. They, too, were enjoying the fine weather, banging on drums and yelling at guys in ties. It is a small group, expressing generalized dissatisfaction with the status quo. It is hard to figure out what their goals might be. Sometimes you just need to bang drums and yell - beats sitting at home, unemployed and grumpy. One fellow was carrying a sign - "Lost my job - Found an Occupation." That sums it up, I guess.

I went to a breakfast session held by a downtown business group. There was a panel of three economists and investment strategists. They all said that the U.S. is not in a recession yet, but the growth trajectory is so low that many people aren't noticing any change. One of the panel members fulminated about the Baby Boom generation, how the debt crisis is directly linked to the same lack of character and self-discipline in that group that led to an explosion of illegal drug use. He believes that things will gradually get better as younger people move into power positions in government and business. Hmmmmmmm. The panel broke up, we all networked over coffee for a bit. I could be mistaken, but it looked like some people had a slightly panicked look in their eyes.

I saw a guy collapsed on the sidewalk as I walked to the train on Thursday evening. He was bald and overweight. He fell at Monroe near Canal. I think he was dead. The paramedics were working him over but they didn’t seem like they were saving a life - they lacked that "911" urgency. I think I heard one of them say “He’s gone.” If so, RIP, stranger.

Last Thursday was also the day that the obituaries for Steve Jobs were printed. I have always thought that it is dumb to mourn for a famous person that you have never met, but I couldn't avoid it. He was the best of the Boomers.

For some reason, I was happy when Thursday ended.

Pain Can Be Funny

2011-09-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

The old saw, "Comedy = Tragedy + time" is absoluetely true. I think of the old Monty Python routines regarding the Spanish Inquisition or the Black Plague - how horribly insensitive! Why are we laughing? Because everyone who suffered these unspeakable horrors, and all the people who knew someone who suffered them, has been dead for centuries. So we can guffaw when we watch the "Bring Out Your Dead" scene in the Holy Grail movie.

It is a lot tougher to laugh about something horrible that happened recently - like the 9/11 attacks or the Japanese tsunami. But I can imagine my great, great, great grandchildren having a jolly time making fun of the silly little messes that all of us ancients managed to get into during the olden days.

It is easier to laugh about your own pain, of course. I can laugh about my teenage angst now, but it was deadly serious and horribly tragic when I was living through it. I can laugh about all of my failures in business, but the stress of those experiences nearly killed me. I can laugh about the bones I broke when various accidents befell me (doing a header off my mountain bike, getting slammed in the ribs by a rapidly opening car door, etc.), but I don't remember finding those injuries to be funny when they happened. So the elapsed time between tragedy and comedy can be shorter if you are the sole protagonist.

I think that this weird method of coping, laughing when contemplating past nasty stuff, is part of our evolutionary adaption. Without the ability to laugh at these things, life might get so dark that living is no longer worth the effort. We laugh to survive.

What a Country!

2011-08-24T09:54:00.000-07:00

We packed my third-eldest daughter off to college last week. The family decided that we would make a road trip of this necessity, so we packed up the Volvo wagon, loaded in the rat dog, and headed east from Chicago at a fairly leisurely pace. Our destination was Boston, then back around to Worcester, Mass, home of Clark University. I had quite a lot of windshield time, and we paused to take in a few tourist destinations. The picture above comes from our quick visit to Niagara Falls (the U.S. side). I expected this over-hyped location to be a disappointment, but it was not. My girls, wife and I were all amazed by the scene - noise, stunning falling water and mist. Many, many Japanese people, too.

We also stopped at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland and spent a night at a wonderful B&B in the Berkshires. We ate at a restaurant in a converted railroad station in Le Roy NY (birthplace of Jello) and hung out at Ralph's Diner in Worcester MA. (a rock club/bar/diner with awesome burgers). We slept in an out-of-the-way motor lodge in central Massachusetts and got up at 3AM to watch the Perseid meteor shower from the field behind the country motel, free of light pollution. We hiked in a wonderful state park outside of Worcester and saw a small lake full of water lillies. We visited a dive bar in the basement of a Quality Inn outside of Erie PA and heard an incredibly cheesy "lounge lizard" band. We were generally treated with great kindness by total strangers everywhere we went.

Yes, the USA has lost its AAA-rating from S&P. We may be heading into the second part of a double-dip recession. The political environment in our nation's capital is poisonous. It has been a hot summer, too wet in some places and too dry in others. There is turmoil, war and bloodshed in a couple of dozen locations around the world. It is easy to feel uneasy. But after my road trip, I can't help but marvel at the vastness and variety of America. What a country!

In spite of strong evidence to the contrary, I think we will be OK.

Heading South to Humbolt Park on the Bike

2011-07-04T23:30:00.000-07:00

The morning of July 4th is a great time for urban bicycling. There is very little traffic, and there is time to absorb your surroundings. Chicago has quite a few bike paths for a big city, so the intrepid bicyclist can have a comnbination of street and park views.

Heading west from my house, I picked up the North Shore Channel Trail. This path runs eight miles between Green Bay Road in Evanston to Lawrence Avenue on the northwest side of Chicago. I picked up the trail at Main Street, about 2 miles from its origin. The path wanders along side the North Shore Channel, which was originally built as a drainage canal around 1908. The original purpose of the drainage canal was to flush the sewage in the North Branch of the Chicago river down the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal. The 'ol channel can get a little ripe at times, but it isn't as disgusting as it was in years past. You can even see folks conoeing on the turgid waters, and there are fish that manage to survive in there (I wouldn't recommend frying them up for dinner, however). The first couple of miles run along side busy McCormick Road, past several large public scuplture pieces (this is the "Sculpture Park" maintained by the City of Skokie). When you head south of Petersen, the trail becomes a pure delight. It ducks under the Petersen, Bryn Mawr and Foster streets which allows bikers to avoid traffic lights and cars. There are acres of parks, playgrounds, tennis courts, baseball diamonds and even a couple of swimming pools. The trail and its setting are marvelous; you even get to ride past the only waterfall within the Chicago city limits.

At Lawrence, you pop out into Albany Park, a decent neighborhood and the heart of Chicago's Korean community. I kept pedalling south on California Avenue to Montrose. Horner Park is at that intersection - a 55 acre space with nine softball diamonds, tennis courts, basketball courts and a fieldhouse. The park is named after Henry Horner, the first Jewish governor of Illinois, who served from 1933 until his death in 1940. Horner Park is one of the cornerstones of the Irving Park neighborhood. I rode through it and kept going. The northwest side of Chicago is a very mixed bag. Logan Square is pretty much fully gentrified now, but head a bit south of there and you get into some interesting urban grittiness. And if you keep heading down California, you run into Humboldt Park.

Humboldt Park really is two places in Chicago. The first is the neighborhood of Humboldt Park, a Puerto Rican enclave that is the only offically recognized "Puerto Rican Neighborhood" in the mainland United States (New York, with its huge Puerto Rican population, doesn't recognize any of its neighborhoods as "Puerto Rican."). The area gained this status beginning in the 1950's, when a major influx of Puerto Ricans replaced the Germans and other residents of the neighborhood. The second place tied to the words "Humboldt Park" is the 207-acre paradise that anchors the northwest side. I love riding my bike through this oasis; it has ponds, streams, nature preserves, a boat house and the only Chicago beach that isn't on the shore of Lake Michigan. It is also the temporary home to a cadre of homeless folks. They are in the shadows, sacked out under bushes or on benches. Some pitch tents to establish more a more formal abode. Since the surrounding neighborhood has a significant amount of poverty and drug-related activity, the park is a refuge for many less fortunate types.

Humboldt Park has to be one of the most interesting urban parks in the nation, and I don't think it gets much respect.

It was about a 22 mile ride, round trip. The scenary varied from verdant and serene to pot-holed and industrial. I saw well-to-do folks in Ravenswood Manor, hipsters in Logan Square and trembling drug addicts in Humboldt Park. This is the City of Chicago. It is a formidable enterprise.

Dave Brubeck and Sons on Fathers Day - Ravinia Festival, Highland Park IL

2011-06-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

It is a great thing to have great friends. My old buddy, John Raitt, couldn't use his Ravinia tickets last Sunday (Father's Day evening) so he tossed them over to me. My dear wife and I saw one of the most amazing and poignant jazz concerts in history - Dave Brubeck and his 4 sons - Darious, Chris, Dan and Matt, performing together in the wonderful outdoor setting. Dave turned 90 years old in December of last year, and while he seemed to be fighting jet lag, his playing was beyond belief. Dave has a unique piano "voice," instantly recognizable to a semi-serious jazz fan like me. I put him in a small group of players that have established a voice - Thelonius Monk, Bud Powell, Bill Evans and Herbie Hancock are part of that fraternity.

I am astonished that this man has not lost any of his artistry to age. He started playing the Ravinia Festival in 1955; he has graced the stage at least a dozen times. Brubeck's story is well-known; the idyllic California boyhood in the East Bay Area and on a ranch, the switch from veterinary medicine to music in college,the WWII service in Patton's army, the studies with Darius Milhaud, the French classical composer. I can remember some folks sneering at Brubeck's music - accusing him of cultural appropriation, intellectualization of the jazz idiom and so forth. To this I say, "Horseshit." You can like his music or hate it, but you can't deny his impact. The man has created some of the "greatest hits" of jazz - "Blue Rondo a' la Turk," "Take Five," "In Her Own Sweet Way," " Unsquare Dance" and several others. He brought odd meters to the attention of the American public. His record, "Time Out," went platinum in 1959, giving Elvis and Buddy Holly a run for their money. A lesser known fact - he was a quiet but determined advocate for racial justice. He integrated his quartet in 1958 when bassist Eugene Wright became a member; Brubeck cancelled dates at clubs that objected to integrated bands,. He cancelled television appearances when the station management wanted to keep Wright off-camera. These are the types of actions that helped to break down the evil system that dominated the United States for much of the 20th Century.

At Ravinia, Brubeck did his hits - but he also pulled out a couple of surprises. "St. Louis Blues" sounded fresh in the hands of the Brubeck clan. "Someday My Prince Will Come" became a poly-rhythmic, counter-punctual, dense and exciting collection of multiple melodies, odd meters and chord voicings - pretty radical, in fact. "Black and Blue" featured Chris Brubeck's bass trombone - the cat has serious chops - with Matt on cello taking the bass line since Chris put down his bass to pick up the 'bone. "Take Five" was very interesting - the melody was carried by Matt's cello. Now Matt can really play; it is clear that he is a serious classical player. His jazz work is formidable. I haven't heard the cello in a jazz quartet context, so the sound was odd, but not unpleasant.

As the evening progressed, the Dave seemed to tire somewhat. He let Darius play the aggressive piano lead on "Blue Rondo a' la Turk." But when the nonagenerian settled in for a solo, the years fell away. He also was an effective and amusing story-teller between tunes. The encore was a brief and very touching version of Brahms' Lullaby, with chord voicings that made the little piece brand new and uplifting.

The four Brubeck brothers all met the challenge of their father's musicianship. Dave would occassionally stand up at the piano and gaze at his sons making music, and he would smile. They bowed at the end of the second set and left the stage with their arms draped over each others' shoulders. It felt like the folks at Ravinia had been invited to an intimate family celebration.

And as the patriarch and his sons ambled off stage, I found myself thinking about my own son, Ben. He is a successful educator now, living far from me. I miss him. I salute him.

I look forward to celebrating Dave Brubeck's 100th birthday

Father's Day

2011-06-16T18:59:00.000-07:00

Human relationships can be puzzling. Why do we love or hate each other? Is it right to expect others to help you? What is one’s obligation to family members? To friends? To strangers that need assistance?

It may be best not to think too much about these questions. Maybe it is best to embrace the “Golden Rule” as an organizing principal and just take action. “Analysis leads to paralysis” as the saying goes. Or put another way, don’t ask “What is the meaning of life?” Ask “How should I live?”

Let’s consider fatherhood. I am a father – I have four children. They are all interesting individuals. I have intense emotions when I think about my children. I use the word “love” to describe those emotions, but that word has been over-used and trivialized. I can’t really come up with an alternative word or phrase that fits, however.

Let me describe a fatherhood experience.

On Father’s Day weekend each year, there is an art fair in my neighborhood. It is called “Custer’s Last Stand” because it is centered on the intersection of Custer and Main Street in Evanston IL. My youngest daughter (now age 15) loves Custer’s Last Stand. Last year, all of her friends were out of town during the weekend that the fair was scheduled. To her chagrin, I was the only available companion. So we walked to the event and perused the art stalls, the food stands and the music stages. After an hour or so of walking about, we bought ice cream cones and sat on a curb in the shade at the very south end of the fair area. As we ate our cones, about 8 people we knew wandered by and greeted us. Some were my friends, so I introduced them to my daughter. Some were my daughter’s friends, so she introduced them to me. It was a quietly marvelous time.

This might have been my best Father's Day, and no one bought me a tie.

Chicago Blues Fest Day Two

2011-06-13T05:26:00.000-07:00

I left the Blues Fest on Friday feeling a little bummed. I went back Saturday, in spite of that. It has taken me a while to get my thoughts in order, but the quick summary is "I feel better now."

The weather was slightly better. Weather conditions matter a lot at these outdoor festivals, obviously. It is tough to get in a jolly, music-listening mood when the rain is coming down and the temps are low. And many folks stay away, which reduces the crowd count, which reduces the audience energy, which impacts the engagement of the performers. Bad weather kicks off a negative feedback loop at a blues festival.

By the time I hit Grant Park, the place was pretty full. There were many more young people in attendence yesterday - and they were dancing! This is a very good thing. I think its wrong for people to sit motionless while intensely rhythmic music is produced by highly engaged performers. I always feel like yelling "Get up offa that thing!"

While I heard several acts, I want to focus on just one set - Curtis Salgado, backed by Nick Moss and the Flip Tops.

Nick Moss is a torch-carrier. He is creeping up on 40 years of age, still a kid in the blues world. He started playing professionally around Chicago in his late teens, and he did his apprentice work with guys like Willie "Big Eyes" Smith and Jimmy Rogers before he launched his career as a band leader. I have been listening to Nick for years; he amazed me the first time I heard him and he keeps getting better. He has mastered the craft of playing the blues guitar, and now he is moved on to creating art with his ax. Nick plays harmonica, and he started his career as a bassist. Ain't no flies on this fella. He also has "blues presence" - he is a hairy bear of a man, and he does the "blues face" really well. For those of you that don't know, "blues face" is the series of grimaces and squints that a guitar god conjures up while wrapped in the passion of a solo. I view Nick as a rock-toned player - in the same zip code as Melvin Taylor, but a bit more traditional in his phrasing and ideas. He also doesn't unleash the "wall of sound" as often as some of the rock-oriented blues guitarists. Nick is a dynamite player.

Nick's band is full of fresh young talent. Travis Reed on keyboards is capably filling the chair held by the legendary Piano Willie O'Shawny. Nik Skilnik on bass and Patrick Seals on drums are tight in the pocket, playing with assuredness not often seen in 20-something musicians. And sitting in on rhythm guitar and vocals, Michael Ledbetter really filled out the band - he has the vocal chops to match up against Curtis Salgado, no small feat. Michael comes from the R&B/soul school - his range and control are impressive, he can handle the falsetto swoops and vocal glissandos that most singers can only dream about. He is young, too - 26 years old, I believe. Unlike some bands in Chicago, Nick Moss' band is an intergrated team.

Nick's wife, Kate, also sat in on a tune - she can shred on guitar! She is a little easer to look at than Nick. Kate is not just a supportive spouse; she is Nick's business partner, too.

I am not a good person to talk about Curtis Salgado because he is one of my idols and I go all "fan-boy" when I get started on him. He is one of the top blues harmonica guys on the planet (up there with Kim Wilson and Billy Branch), but he doesn't play that much harp on his records. He often won't touch a harmonica for an entire set during his live gigs. I think that is interesting - he views his main instrument as his voice; the harp plays a supporting role. Salgado's vocal performances are stunning. His phrasing, tone, range and delivery combine to grab the listener by the throat and the heart. His personal story, the near-death experience with liver cancer and the liver transplant, make his energy and power even more impressive. Curtis opened with a Jimmy Reed tune (You Don't have to Go) and followed with a Muddy Waters cover (Long Distance Call) He is one of the few singers on the planet that is capable of delivering Long Distance Call - other cover versions I have heard have generally been mediocre, embarrassing or both. He covered Magic Sam and Little Milton too. It was an amazing and moving performance. Nick and the Flip Tops were very locked in to what Curtis was doing - it was a great ensemble blues performance. And Curtis played some harmonica - and he killed. Curtis and Michael Ledbetter also sang an R&B duet - their voices blended beautifully.

I didn't make it to the Chicago Blues Fest on Sunday; I was convinced that there wasn't anything that I had to see that day. I stand by my earlier comment that the event was an anemic version of past Fests, but seeing Curtis Salgado with Nick Moss made it all worthwhile for me.

Chicago Blues Fest Day One/Reality on the Street

2011-06-11T05:25:00.000-07:00

It was a misty afternoon in Chicago on June 10. The cloud cover slid down to about the 20th story of the Aon Building near Grant Park. The temps were in the upper 50's, some festival attendees were wearing hoodies and windbreakers. It was disorienting - we experienced a 40-degree temperature drop in 28 hours earlier in the week and some people were still in their shorts and tank tops, shivering.

I hate to say it but I will - this year's Blues Fest is a shadow of its former self. If you pick a year at random, say 1989, who was at the Fest? Buddy Guy, Dr. John, Junior Wells, Allen Toussaint, Kinsey Report, A.C. Reed, Jimmy Rogers, James Cotton, Solomon Burke, Irma Thomas and many more. Other stellar names from past Fests - Ray Charles, Bonnie Raitt, and B.B. King. In 2009, the Fest was cut from 4 to 3 days to save money. This year, there seems top be two fewer stages operating during the day. I think that the lame duck Daley Administration, the Chicago budget crisis and the retirement of Barry Dolins has led to a less ambitious festival. There was some great music happening yesterday at the fest, but there was less of it. Dolins ran the Blues Fest for 27 years and it will take a while for The Fest to re-set. And I guess that it is a good thing that more of the performers are local blues artists - This is the CHICAGO Blues Festival, after all. But the crowd was smaller and even older than usual. I fear at times that blues music is heading toward irrelevency, like Dixieland jazz, beloved by a small group of eccentric elderly people. This thought makes me feel gloomy.

So I heard my buddies Mark Wydra (guitar) and Harland Terson (bass) playing behind Sam Lay. Sam is a terrific guy and one of the best blues drummers in the history of the music. He played with Little Walter, Muddy Waters, Wille Dixon Howlin' Wolf and was the man who set the beat for the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. And of course, Sam Lay played on Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited album back in the day. He didn't play the drums yesterday - he sat up front, sang and played the guitar. He is not a highly skilled guitarist. The band was very loosey-goosey and under-rehearsed. These are outstanding players, though, and the blues is a genre that can be great even if the band isn't tight. I chatted with Mr. Wydra after the set - he noted the scaled-back Fest vibe and seemed a bit glum. But we agreed on one thing - people still need to listen to the blues, but they just don't realize it. If the current economic environment and global mood had a soundtrack, it would consist of blues music, the music of lament.

I also caught the Sanctified Grumblers, a local trio of creative countirfied acoustic blues guys. Eric Noden is a heckuva player - guitar, banjo and vocals. Rick Sherry is always a hoot, playing harmonica, clarinet and washboard. Rick has one of the most interesting voices and vocal styles I have ever heard - he has a ferocious baritone that cuts through the clutter like an auctioneer.

Super Chikan was also booked for the fest this year. This guy is ubiquitous on the blues festival scene during the summer months; he is a road dog with tens of thousands of miles on his sneakers. He is skilled, and he is a crowd-pleaser with his home-made electric guitars and his wild-and-crazy demeanor.

I also caught a bit of the Kilborn Alley Blues Band, a group of young guys from Champaign IL. They were definitely worth hearing, and brought energy and passion to the little Windy City blues Society stage. Great to see some 20-somethings loving the music.

I left Grant Park when the mist turned to rain and headed west toward Ogilvie Transportation Center to catch the 7:35 train back home. There was a large young man standing in a doorway on an empty block of Jackson Street, trying to avoid the mist. He was begging, and not in a quiet voice. I glanced at him, and passed by. But then I turned back - there was something in his eyes, too much pain. I dug in my pocket for some small bills, shoved them in his cup while he thanked me. I asked him his name, he said "Brian, sir, and what is your name if I may ask?" I told him, and he turned his eyes skyward and said "Thank you, Father, for Chris. Thank you, Father, for Chris..." repeating the phrase over and over, mantra-like. Tears rolled down his cheeks. I told him to take it easy, good luck, and a couple of other banalities. I turned and fled. And I thought, "What the hell is going on?"

Remembering Lowell Fulson

2011-06-06T19:07:00.001-07:00

A dozen years have passed since Lowell Fulson died and I am still digging into his work. I think that he ranks with the other major blues poets - Willie Dixon, Robert Johnson, Son House and the rest. I have memorized one of his lesser-known, later songs - "Thanks A Lot." This is one of those tunes that tells a perfectly formed story - in this case, it is the tale of a married man resisting the advances of an unmarried woman. This song has some terrific couplets - here is one I love; "My wife would not suspect because her trust in me is deep; But I would suffer anyway. My conscience would not let me sleep." Arnold Schwartznegger should have listened to this song every day.

Lowell was born in Tulsa OK, allegedly on a Chocktaw Indian reservation. He claimed to be part Cherokee and part Chocktaw - it might be true. He learned to play the guitar and worked with Alger "Texas" Alexander when he was 18 years old in 1940. Lowell toured with the Texas bluesman until 1943 when he was drafted. After he got out of the service in 1945, he ended up in Oakland California. He started up his own band, which included some amazing cats - a young Ray Charles on piano, David "Fathead" Newman on sax and many others. Lowell began uncapping a string of classics in 1948 with "3 o'Clock Blues," a slow, sad tale about a wayward woman. This tune was B.B. King's first big hit.

Lowell's most famous tune is probably "Reconsider Baby," a mid-tempo blues with clever lyrics. This song has been covered by everyone - Elvis Presley, Eric Clapton, Joe Bonamassa and every singing blues guitar player in the world. Lowell had some other big songs ("Tramp," which is a favorite sample used by Ice Cube and many other hip hop artists), but none as huge as "Reconsider Baby."

Lowell Fulson played for over five decades, shutting down his act in 1997 when his health started to fade. He died in 1999; he was almost 78.

This is a guy that deserves to be celebrated - he was a soulful, funky dude that contirbuted a lot to contemporary music. He had a solid baritone voice and played terrific blues guitar. He was a huge influence on Ray Charles. Why isn't he famous, dammit?

Fidelity and Decency

2011-05-18T05:44:00.000-07:00

Maybe it is just me, but it seems that the erosion of fidelity and decency in human relationships is accelerating. Hypocrisy is part of the human condition, of course, and every person generates some amount of hurt and disappointment for their loved ones, but recent events have been pretty startling. I have been shaking my head over the shenanigans of IMF chiefs and former California governors.

Fidelity, faithfulness, loyalty, decency - these are the keys in all important human relationships, but especially in marital relationships. When you deeply trust another human and believe that they will keep their promises, it is easier to get through any challenges that you face in your life. Fidelity is a gift, but it is also self-serving. Keeping promises is a form of self-care, a path to gaining confidence in one's own character. Committing an act of betrayal leads to self-loathing and shame.

I have always felt that all good things start with promise-keeping. A person of character stands up and commits, and declares "I can and will do this." A person of character is easily-understood, and harbors no subterfuge or dark secrets. Individuals that fail to keep their promises eventually suffer losses. They might lose their relationships or their jobs; those bad events are preceeded by the loss of trustworthiness. To be betrayed by a deeply trusted person creates a wound that might never heal. An individual who has been betrayed finds it hard to trust anyone - the fear of more pain leads creates an unwillingness to take the risk and the heart can harden.

My mom used to say, "Behave like a gentleman." Gentlemen do not cheat on their wives or force themselves upon women. Gentlemen do not refuse to face their own misdeeds. Gentlemen consider the people involved, and act in their best interests. Gentlemen know that the "high road" is the easiest path, in the long run.

There are few gentlemen in politics and government these days.

Musicians I Love - Howard Johnson

2011-05-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

I got to hang out and listen to the mellow tones of Will Baker, bass trombonist extraordinaire, on Sunday afternoon. He is a wickedly talented low brass youngblood; energy and technique to burn. Listening to him is very exciting for a retired bass bone man like me. After his recital, I asked him if he had ever heard of Howard Johnson; he had not. I understand; Howard is almost 70 years old and Will is under 25. But anyone who digs the low-register wind instruments should check out HoJo.

Mr. Johnson started playing the baritone saxophone at the age of 13; he added the tuba when he was 14. He decided to focus on jazz, but not the traditional New Orleans trad jazz tuba stuff (not that there is anything wrong with that). HoJo wanted to front the band and play bebop on the big horn. He made the trek to New York when he was 22 years of age and was embraced by the late, great Charles Mingus. Howard soon became the go-to tubist/bari saxophonist in the Apple, playing with Hank Crawford, Archie Shepp and a host of others. Word began to leak out about his prowess; he was pulled to the west coast and played in more mainstream groups like the Buddy Rich Big Band. He also worked with Oliver Nelson, Carla Bley, Pharoah Sanders and a host of other modern jazz greats.

Howard also thought that the world needed a tuba ensemble, so he formed one, called Substructure, in 1968. This was the group that hooked up with the great bluesman, Taj Mahal, in the early 1970's. Taj toured nationally with the tuba choir as part of his back-up band (check out Taj Mahal's live album, "The Real Thing," recorded at Filmore West in San Francisco in 1971 - whoooeee! It still kills me). HoJo was a boundary-busting guy - jazz, R&B,, rock, blues, orchestral music all interested him. He even served as the leader of the Saturday Night Live band in the late 1970's.

Howard has kept the tuba ensemble concept alive. His current group is called "Gravity," and it is touring internationally. Gravity has released a couple of albums, and they are must-have records for low brass players.

So Will - I love the Lebedev Concerto for bass trombone, but check out Howard Johnson and Gravity playing "Big Alice." Whooooeeee!

Cornell Dupree - RIP

2011-05-10T14:56:00.000-07:00

Just heard that Cornell Dupree passed a couple of days ago. This man was one of my earliest guitar heroes. That lick he lays down in King Curtis' Memphis Soul Stew is a classic funky, soulful statement - I listened to that tune over and over, just to hear that Cornell Dupree guitar break. "Four level tablespoons of boilin' Memphis guitar" is how King Curtis introduces Cornell's contribution to the tune. Wonderful.

Cornell played with everyone from Aretha Franklin to Paul Simon. His work was on over 2,500 tunes. He was a formidable guitar monster, but humble. He didn't over-play or grandstand. He was the ultimate session guitarist. Some of his licks are deeply imprinted in the national musical consciousness, but most folks never heard his name. Listen to his work on "Rainy Night in Georgia." Fantastic stuff.

Cornell was totally cool but not flashy. He was deeply talented and tasteful, but he was a committed sideman. His mission was to make the best music possible and he didn't care if he got little credit. He was in the public ear, but not the public eye.

Gonna miss that guy. Here is a MP3 of Memphis Soul Stew from YouTube. This is from the King Curtis "Live from Fillmore West" that I wore out when I was in high school. Enjoy it, and reflect on guitar greatness and the importance of sidemen.

Eva Elizabeth Bloom Gillock - March 15, 1921 - July 24, 1993

2011-05-08T06:21:00.000-07:00

It is Mother's Day. I am fortunate - I get to spend time with my wife and partner, Connie, who is one of the most dedicated mothers on the planet. I also get to see my daughter, who is in her third year of motherhood and has become a paragon of maternal virtue. But I wanted to write about my own mother today.

I scanned this old photograph of Eva Bloom Gillock I keep on the desk in my home office. She must be in her 20's in this shot, and she looks gorgeous. My mom died in 1993 (before the advent of digital photography) and I don't have that many pictures of her - she was a bit camera-shy, especially in her later years. She also missed email, the Internet, YouTube, Facebook. blogging and Twitter. I can imagine her being delighted with instant communications and revolted by the loss of privacy caused by the 'net.

On the day my mother was born, a loaf of bread cost 10 cents. "Ain't We Got Fun" was one of the more popular songs of the year. Charlie Chaplain's "The Kid" was one of the top movies. The first live radio broadcast of a baseball game occurred in 1921 (the Pittsburgh Corsairs, aka Pirates, vs. the Philadelphia Phillies). Her childhood was so radically different from the experience of today's children - it is mindboggling, really.

My mom was born in a small town in western Pennsylvania called Curwensville, the third of four children and the only daughter in the brood. Her parents, Claude and Christine Bloom, had deep roots in the little town. Her family patriarch, William Bloom. was one of the first settlers around 1800 - before Curwensville was established. At least seven of my mother's ancestors fought on the Union side during the Civil War. Claude Bloom was a pillar of the community; he ran the general store during the Great Depression and allowed hard-pressed neighbors to buy food on credit, often followed by debt forgiveness. He later served as Justice of the Peace.

Eva Bloom Gillock was feisty. As a teenager, she hung out with the "rough crowd" and started smoking cigarettes at the age of 14. She went to college in the late 1930's/early 1940's - Grove City College, a small Christian school not far from Curwensville. Not many young women went to college at that time. She moved to Cleveland and worked as a foreman in a factory, filling in for the men that went off to fight in World War II. She told her father that she wanted to enlist in the U.S. Army. He laughed and told her that she was crazy. So, of course, she enlisted, serving in the Women's Army Corps in New Guinea and the Phillippines during the war. She met my father, Albert Gillock, at a USO dance. She was an active member of the Greatest Generation.

There are lots of other interesting details to her path through life, but I don't want to blather on too much. I need to say this - she was a tower of strength. My father, may he rest in peace, was not a tremendous financial success. Once I was born, the money became quite tight, so my mom went to work in one of the few professions that welcomed women in the early 1960's - teaching. Her paycheck allowed our family to live a modest and comfortable middle-class life in a working-class Northern California suburb. She had a significant impact on the lives of quite a few Baby Boomers who passed through her classroom at Garfield School in San Leandro.

Here are some "Eva-isms:" "If you can look me in the eye and tell me you did your very best, I will be happy with you." "There is no sense in crying about it - do something!" "Nobody likes a smart-aleck." "I quit smoking because I got sick of all the nagging." "We all have to die sometime."

Eva Bloom Gillock was faithful; she took her promises seriously. "In sickness and in health" was one promise she fulfilled. As my father's health faded, my mother became his caretaker. She ignored her own needs during that time - deferred her own medical care to attend to her husband. After he passed, she went to the doctor with some complaints. She had cancer, probably brought on by her decades of cigarette smoking. The cancer took her - a damned shame, because her cardio-vascular system was in great shape and her energy level was high. She would have celebrated her 90th birthday last March. If not for the cancer, I suspect that she would have made it.

If I have any good qualities, my mother put them there. If I have any steel in my backbone, she forged it. She gave me lots of love, but she also gave me the gift of high expectations. My biggest fear was ending up a disappointment to Eva Bloom Gillock.

As I think about my own career as a parent, my successes and challenges, I measure myself against her. I lack her consistency and firmness. I let things slide a lot. Fortunately, my kids have dealt with my sloppy parenting with grace and I am very proud of all four of them. I can see some of those feisty Eva Bloom Gillock qualities in each one of them. They are lucky to have that legacy, and so am I.

Happy Mother's Day. If you mom is alive, kiss her. If your mom is gone, reflect upon her life.

L.V. Banks, Bluesman - Rest in Peace

2011-05-03T07:16:00.001-07:00

I heard that L.V. Banks passed away over the weekend. Tom Holland, one of the young guitarists L.V. nurtured, shared the sad news. I knew Mr. Banks and sat in with him a few times - he was very open to harmonica players, unlike many blues guitarists. L.V. was an old-school bluesman, and he almost made it to 80 years of age (a very long run for a blues dude). He came up with the "second generation" of Chicago blues artists - Buddy Guy, Eddie Clearwater, et al are part of L.V.'s generation. He had an eye for young talent - in addition to Tom Holland, L.V. brought Marty Sammon, Buddy Guy's keyboardist, into his circle. He also advised and guided Toronzo Cannon, a terrific "next generation" blues guitarist. L.V. never got rich and famous, but he laid down the straight-up blues for many decades. He was the real deal.

I wrote about L.V. Banks back in December 2008. Here is a link to that entry.

I have some L.V. Banks tracks buried on my iPod somewhere. I will listen to them tonight, and drink a toast to one to the great, underappreciated South Side Chicago blues guitar slingers, Mr. L.V. Banks.

A Momentous Day, But I Want to Think About Music - Gary Valente, God's Trombonist

2011-05-02T05:01:00.000-07:00

I listened to President Obama announce the killing of Osama Bin Laden last night. This is momentous and it was a necessary and just act of violence. I can't dance in the street over this, however. It seems like a time for reflection. Human history seems to be a cycle of the strong groups controlling weaker groups, then the weak figuring out how to strike back with brutality, and the strong reacting to that attack and so on and so on and so on. Will killing Bin Laden break the cycle or strenghthen it? I have a hard time thinking about this, to tell the truth.

So I will think about music instead. Guess I am a coward.

When I am feeling troubled and I need to sooth my soul, I turn to Gary Valente, one of the world's greatest trombonists. He is passionate. He is skillful. And he is LOUD. Gary started playing with Carla Bley in the early 1980's and was featured on Carla's "Live!" album in 1982. His work on "The Lord is Listenin' to Ya. Hallelujah!" is stunning; I think of Gary as God's trombonist. This is the song I tee up when I feel the need for solace. Here is a link to a YouTube video of Gary's performance.

Gary is about 57 years old now. He is a big name in the NYC Latin jazz world. He still plays with Carla, I think. His trombone work grabs my heart. He helps me to remember that humans have outstanding qualities. We kill each other, and we create beautiful music for each other. I am trying to believe that the part of our souls that creates the music will eventually overcome the part of our souls that wants to kill.

Down the Great River Road (aka the Blues Highway) - Memphis and Cairo IL

2011-04-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

I have been away from my blog for a few days. I often forget about the damn thing for a while, then try to resurrect it. Since I am working from my own leaky memory, I can forget what I was going to say if I wait too long. Since Memphis is such a rockin' place, I wanted to finish up the write up of my spring road trip.
We left New Madrid, exited the Missouri "boot heel" and crossed into Arkansas. We bumbled down the road until we hit Memphis. I have several impressions of this terrific river city:

The Peabody Hotel (see picture of the roof-top sign above) is beyond fabulous. We hung out in the lobby to see the famous "duck march" from the fountain to the elevators (the ducks quit for the day at 5PM and head to the roof to their penthouse residence). Next time I go to Memphis, I am going to stay at the Peabody.

This is no place for a vegan. Memphis BBQ is a daily staple, and I did not see any restaurants offering barbecued tofu. I highly recommend Charlie Vergos' Rendevous in downtown Memphis, a rambling basement-level establishment that opened in 1948. Charlie Vergos died about a year ago at the age of 84; he was a huge civic booster in Memphis. The dry-rubbed ribs at the Rendevous are terrific and the brisket is even better. Everyone hits the Rendevous eventually - Bill Clinton, George Bush, Frank Sinatra, the Rolling Stones, Al Green, Bill Cosby, Justin Timberlake, etc. etc.

Memphis has one of the best vintage surface rail systems in America - at least as beautiful as the St. Charles line in New Orleans. The trolley cars are meticulously restored and totally vintage - each one is a different size, shape and color. The old trolley cars were originally in service in the U.S., Australia and Portugal. Memphis dismantled its trolley system in the 1940's; the system was relaunched in 1993. The trolleys run down Main Street, which is full of trendy bars, restaurants and hotels. This downtown section of Memphis used to be pretty shabby.

Memphis has a terrific zoo. It was named the best zoo in the U.S. by TripAdvisor.com. The exhibits all look brand new, and the place is huge. I especially enjoyed the opportunity to hang out and stare at the giant pandas, up close. Those suckers eat a helluva lot of bamboo, yo.

Beale Street is very cool, but too dang loud. I love blues and funk music, and some of the bands I heard in the Beale Street bars were very talented. All of them had the volume knob cranked to "11." Since all the bars have their doors wide open, the sound pours into the street, creating a sonic flood that is painful to hear.

Confederate Park was pretty creepy. The statue of Jefferson Davis (a traitor to the United States, in my opinion) and the general concept behind the park seemed at odds with modern Memphis. Call me a liberal, but I think that the Confederates and the Nazis had pretty similar views of the world - racism and facism are not values to be celebrated via statues and parks.

We spent an extra day in Memphis, then we had to hot-foot it back to Chicago. We did visit Cairo IL on the way home. Cairo is the birthplace of George "Harmonica" Smith, one of my musical heroes (he was a an awesome and innovative blues harmonica player and vocalist who eventually moved to Los Angeles). I could find no reference to George in the town, and Cairo was not looking very prosperous. The place had an air of faded glory; historic buildings have sunk into disrepair. The folks on the street look like they are just getting by. We left the place feeling a bit low.

And that is it - we raced north on the interstate to get home in time for dinner. Road trips rock.

Down the Great River Road (aka The Blues Highway) - Missouri

2011-04-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

We crossed the border from Iowa into Missouri and I noticed some changes. Local accents lost some of the twang and picked up a bit of drawl. Preferred baseball headgear shifted from Chicago Cubs to St. Louis Cardinals. U.S. 61 was quite lovely in certain stretches of Missouri; we were often running right next to the Mississippi. And unusual roadside attractions did appear occassionally. The "Chopper War Memorial" is one such roadside attraction (see cell phone picture above). We passed through a very small town, and on our left was a late-1960's retired US Army helicopter on a strange pedestal. This old bird was the centerpiece of a lonely memorial to local service people that died in America's wars. We stopped and paid our respects; we were alone. There are a number war memorials like this along U.S.61 - generally neat and tidy, but devoid of visitors.

We pulled off the highway in Hannibal MO. Hannibal is best known as the boyhood home of Samuel Clemens (aka Mark Twain). The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huclkeberry Finn were set in and around Hannibal; there are several buildings that have been preserved as tourist sites - Becky Thatcher's house, the law offices of Mark Twain's father, etc. The downtown is jammed with Mark Twain-themed stores and restaurants. Hannibal prospers from all of the tourist revenue. The town is neat, but the tourist stuff gets a bit repetitive and tiresome. Hannibal had some other semi-famous residents, including Cliff Edwards, the voice on Jiminy Cricket in all the Disney Pinocchio cartoons.

From Hannibal, we barreled south to St. Louis where we spent the night. We went to the top of the Gateway Arch on the Mississippi (nice view, but not a good trip for claustrophobic folks). The downtown of St. Louis was deserted in the middle of a work day. According to the 2010 census, St. Louis lost over 8% of its population over the past 10 years. It is still a lovely city, but it feels vacant. We had lunch at Charlie Gitto's Downtown, a wonderful Italian place in an old building near Busch Stadium. This is a classic baseball hangout - lots of pictures of the local Cardinal heroes, televisions set to the game, and all the rest.

We left St. Louis and pointed ourselves south again on the Great River Road. We came to New Madrid (pronouned "new MAD -rid"), which is down in Missouri's "boot heel." There is a large loop in the river near New Madrid - usually called the "Kentucky Bend." The river runs north, then loops back down south. This is the section of the Mississippi that allegedly flowed backwards due to the impact of the great New Madrid earthquakes of late 1811-early 1812; those gigantic quakes rang church bells in Richmond VA. If a similar earthquake were to happen today on the New Madrid fault, Memphis would be trashed. We decided to pull off the highway and go into the town.

New Madrid's Main Street was the commercial center of the town. I use the past tense because the little downtown strip consists mainly of vacant storefronts now. There are no restaurants and few functioning retail stores. We stopped in at the "General Store" (really a convenience market) and chatted with the folks hanging around. I asked them what happened to the downtown businesses. A sad-eyed guy in coveralls said one word - "WalMart." New Madrid may have lost its struggle. We stopped in at the local museum, which had a surprisingly good collection of artifacts. We were the only visitors. Perhaps the town does better in the summer months.

We got back in the car and rolled south to Memphis - will tell that story tomorrow....

Down the Great River Road (aka the Blues Highway) - Quad Cities and Iowa

2011-04-20T15:09:00.000-07:00

I loaded up the Volvo wagon with two teenagers, my lovely wife and the ratdog for an old-fashioned road trip vacation. We headed west from Chicago to the Quad Cities (Moline IL, Rock Island IL, Davenport IA and Bettendorf IA). These four towns hug both banks of the Mississippi. Our plan was to pick up Highway 61 in Iowa and head south. US 61 is called "The Great River Road" since it hugs the Mississippi for much of its length. It is also called "The Blues Highway" since it was the path out of the Mississippi Delta region travelled by the many blues musicians that headed north to Chicago after World War II. US 61 has been eclipsed by the major interstates nearby. The traffic levels on the historic road have dropped. It is a 2-lane highway in some stretches. It was perfect.

We spent our first night in Moline IL, home of Deere & Company (aka John Deere). Deere's profits doubled in the first quarter of 2011 (compared to the first quarter of 2010). Big Green made about $514MM (which is indeed Big Green). Lots of folks around the world want to buy a new Deere tractor, I guess. The farm economy is doing pretty well due to the spike in crop prices. Our pain is Deere's gain. Moline seems to be booming along with Deere & Co.; the tractor maker is the largest employer in the Quad Cities.

We stayed at the Stoney Creek Inn, located on the Illinois side of the mighty Mississippi. The hotel is owned by a regional chain that plays up the "Northwoods" motif - stone fireplaces, old wooden signs, moose heads, etc. The most remarkable part of the stay was the presence of the LPA Convention ("LPA" stands for "Little People's Association"). The hotel was full of dwarves and the people who love them. They were a fine group of folks, although dwarves like to party late into the evening, I learned. It was not a good place to sleep.

We also hit Davenport IA, a lovely town with a great art museum on the banks for the Mississippi (the Figge Art Museum, a sizable institution with a surprisingly large permanent collection of work by Mexican, Haitian and Midwestern artists). Unfortunately, the Figge is closed on Sunday so we could only admire the beautiful building, which was completed in August 2005. Davenport is also the home of the late, great Bix Beiderbecke. Along with Louis Armstrong, Bix transformed the role of the trumpet in popular/jazz music in the 1920's. Bix was a huge alcholic and died of the disease at the ripe old age of 28. The City of Davenport celebrates this native son every year with the Bix Biederbecke Memorial Jazz Festival.

We hit the local Quad City Botanical Center (where it was Pirate Day - I don't know why the pirates were being celebrated in a huge greenhouse next to the Mississippi River). After that odd experience, we headed south on US 61 to Burlington IA - home of the Lady Liberty facsimile pictured above. Burlington is also the home of Snake Alley, allegedly the "crookedest" street in the world (it looks like a smaller version of Lombard Street in San Francisco). There are some lovely old churches in Burlington (some are available for sale if you have a yearning to own a 19th century house of worship).

We continued down the Great River Road into Missouri.......I will tell that story tomorrow.

From Hotel to Intermediate Care Facility

2011-03-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

I live a couple of blocks from an old hotel. It used to be called the Ridgeview, because it was within sight of Ridge Avenue in Evanston. The old Ridgeview is pictured above - this comes from an old postcard, postmarked April 4, 1962. The Ridgeview Hotel was built in1924, one of several "apartment hotels" that popped up in Evanston in the 1920's. These facilities were competing for the semi-transient resident that planned on staying in town for a few weeks to a few months. The units in these hotels had kitchenettes. The Ridgeview was sold in 1965 and received some extensive re-modeling. In 1971, it was sold again and converted from a hotel to a 430-bed long-term care facility for disabled adults receiving state assistance. It is still in use as a intermediate-term care facility and it serves mentally ill adults. Most of these folks are Medicaid patients.

There is a large park right across from the entrance of the Albany Care facility - Grey Park. When the weather is decent, the park is full of Albany Care residents, most of them enjoying tobacco products. This has generated a bit of controversy in the neighborhood (see this article for background). The residents also spend quite a lot of time in the neighborhood, walking around and hanging out. Since most of them are quite poor, they will sometimes ask pedestrians for some money. Their maladies can lead to some unusual public displays - shouting, nudity, public elimination of wastes, etc. The Albany Care building is a few blocks away from the main public transportation hub in the neighborhood, so there is an interesting dance that occurs between the commuters and the Albany Care residents. As one would expect, the interactions are not always positive.

Here is what I admire about the Albany Care folks - they are fearless! I see one fellow several times a week - he always wants to shake hands and he smiles at everyone. He also wants everyone to give him a dollar - hey, it never hurts to ask, I guess. Some people cross the street to avoid this guy. Others steam by and ignore him. Others engage with him and seem comfortable.

There are many other examples - there is the guy with the long gray hair that stands outside the Sher-Main Grill, chain smoking cigarillos and muttering "Have a good day, have a good day" to everyone he sees. Many others are trying hard not to be conspicuous; their eyes bulge out, like someone is choking them.

These people are my neighbors. I struggle with my gut instinct, which is to look away from them and march through their turf without acknowledging their existence, let alone our shared humanity. I have had times when I didn't feel 100% mentally stable, so I should have more empathy for the Albany Care folks. But I don't.

This is something I need to work on. Religious folks often say, "There but for the grace of God, goes me." This is a noble thought, but I can't embrace it. Belief in God's grace is similar to believing in a shaman's ability to beseech the spirits to send rain during a drought. These "faith" statements don't convince me - sorry about that.

What does engage me are unanswered questions - what is afflicting each resident of Albany Care? How did they end up there? How likely is it that they will get well and leave to join society? What sort of treatment do they receive from the staff? And so on.

It is always a challenge to stay mentally strong. Some folks are ill and can't tackle that challenge. I will work on developing empathy for my Albany Care neighbors...

St. Patrick's Day, New York, 2011

2011-03-17T20:15:00.000-07:00

Night has fallen in Manhattan as St. Patrick's Day winds down. Weirdness is in the air. I saw a very tall man, wearing just a thong, his body painted green. Two guys in kilts were kissing at the corner of 46th Street and 8th Ave. I saw cackling harpies sitting on the curb drinking green beer out of plastic cups. There were black people dressed like leprechuans. Little old ladies in lime green trench coats. Homeless people sporting "Kiss Me - I'm Irish" buttons on their tattered jackets. I saw a shirtless woman with strategically-placed shamrocks. I listened to an ancient Chinese man croaking "When Irish Eyes are Smiling." I followed a drunk girl wearing a green plastic derby as she stumbled down 8th Avenue, stopping to hug the cops. I saw a wicked thin socialite, striding purposefully down the street at 10:45 PM, wearing cheap green beads, her six-year-old daughter in tow. In this world of uncertainty and heartache, New Yorkers and touristas are misbehaving and blowing off steam. Many of these people will be nursing 4-star hangovers in the morning.

God bless us all, and good night.

Michael Yeo Yew Heong

2011-03-13T06:21:00.000-07:00

From 1984 through 1987, I lived and worked in Singapore. It was a challenging time - the island nation was going through its first economic downturn since WWII and the business I was leading was experiencing difficulties. I was pretty young, and the job in Singapore was my first management gig. In many ways, I was clueless, and that cluelessness on the job migrated into my personal life as well. I needed backup in the worst way.

Michael Yeo Yew Heong applied for an opening in our Singapore office and I had the backup I desparately needed.

When you first saw Michael, you are immediately taken by his physical presence. His height, for one thing, set him apart in Singapore. There are not a great many tall Singaporeans, folks over six feet in height tend to be expatriates on a work assignment. Michael was 6 ft 5 in and his shoulders were very broad. He moved like a tall man in a short world, perhaps overly conscious of his unusual status. Michael's schoolmates teased him - called him a "Northern Barbarian" in reference to the physically imposing inhabitants of China's northern regions which prompted the Qin Dynasty to finish construction of the Great Wall . Michael embraced the "Northern Barbarian" tag, and laughed at himself frequently.

Michael was a highly competent executive. He had great intuition and strong cognitive skills. He was dependable and dedicated. His ability to solve problems impressed me. But all of those traits, though admirable, were not the aspects of Michael's personality that made him special.

Michael was kind.

He had a raucous sense of humor.

He had a talent for sharing wisdom in a casual, off-hand way that can impact the recipient for a long time. I still ruminate over some of the things that Michael said to me in the mid-eighties in Singapore.

Michael fully inhabitied his life. He enjoyed socializing with friends; we enjoyed many Tiger Beers together after work. He was an enthusiastic scuba diver. He was a deeply committed husband and father.

I left Singapore in 1987; Michael moved up into the leadership slot that I vacated. We didn't talk much after that - Chicago is a long way from Singapore - but I kept up with him via email, sporadically. He took a new job in 2001 and was handling business activites in China for his new employer.

Last week, I realized that it had been well over a year since I had connected with Michael, so I dropped him an email on Thursday. Due to the 14 hour time difference between Chicago and Singapore, I didn't expect to hear back from him immediately. My dog barked at 1 AM on Friday morning and I woke up. After dealing with the mutt, I saw that the email light was blinking on my Blackberry. I checked it - there was an email from Singapore, but not from Michael. One of his colleagues from work had intercepted my message and answered it. He told me that Michael died on December 5, 2010, while snorkeling in the Philippines.

I am trying to wrap my head around this. Michael would have celebrated his 58th birthday on March 15. He had stayed fit. He was a regualar scuba diver and therefore was a strong swimmer. This is a very improbable way for Michael to leave.

Michael Yeo wasn't a famous person, just an outstanding person. He stood by me during a difficult time. I let the relationship atrophy. Now I am feeling the deep regret that comes when you realize that you have no time to repair a friendship that has been neglected.

I went to a local joint, the Hop Haus, yesterday to take a look at their beer list. Sure enough, they had Tiger Beer from Singapore on the list. I ordered one and drank it, remembering my big-hearted friend, Michael Yeo.

Strangers on a Train

2011-03-04T17:37:00.000-08:00

I am a regular Metra rider, ususally on inbound train #320 leaving my local stop at straight-up 8:00 AM, arriving Ogilvie Transportation Center in Chicago's Loop at 8:26AM. I was on it this morning, heading to the office for a Friday full of conference calls and persuasion. I usually read my paper or listen to the iPod, but today I decided to sit quietly and look around me. I concluded something - commuting is a very odd activity.

Across the aisle from me is a man that I have noticed many times in the past. He is a tall, substantial guy, not overweight or anything, but solid. He could be 40 years old, or he could be 50. His face is unlined and his hair is thick and dark blonde. He always wears jeans and boots. In the winter, he wears a pullover sweater. In his hands, an iPhone or an iPad. The expression on his face never changes - he seems implacably calm.

To my right on the long bench is a clenched fist of a man, short and paunchy, in a pin-striped suit. His thinning hair glistens with some sort of styling gel. He has turned his back to me and pulled away to the far edge of the seat so he won't accidently catch my eye or brush his body against mine. His eyes are focused on the novel scrolling across his e-reader.

To my left is a mid-thirties blonde woman who pays close attention to her appearance. She is staring into a compact mirror, adjusting her lipstick. This process takes a surprisingly long time. She finally snaps the compact shut, slips it into a big-ass purse, sighs, leans back and closes her eyes.

Down the aisle comes the aging conductor, bellowing "Tickets!! Display all tickets!! Main Street, Rogers Park, Ravenswood tickets!!!" He is short and round. He has a gray beard quite similar to my own. His voice shatters the peace; his timbre is nasal and unpleasant; it makes my ears ring. It is incredibly irritating.

Every seat is filled and people are standing in the aisle by the time we reach our destination. The passengers generally don't converse with each other. They don't even acknowlege each other, although they have been riding in the same train car together for quite a while (sometimes for years). We can't greet each other by name, we don't introduce ourselves, we are physically close but emotionally distant.

The train stops with a jerk, the doors hiss open; we file out and rush to our high-rise offices. In eight or nine hours, we will reverse the direction of our travels and head back to our suburban bedrooms. Then we get up the next day and repeat the process. And the day after that, and the day after that, and so on until we lose our jobs or retire or die.

Doesn't this seem odd? What if someone broke into song? What if someone told the loud conductor to shut up? Would chaos ensue? Would the facade crumble?

Anyway, I should start winding down my day so I can catch......my train.

Persistence

2011-02-28T18:30:00.000-08:00

I felt a twinge in my knee last night and when I woke up this morning, it was still there. I decided to skip my workout to let my knee settle down. The last day of February was a little rough in Chicago - the rain that fell overnight turned to ice when the temperatures dropped around 2 AM. My neighborhood was a huge skating rink. I left the house for my morning commute, moving gingerly and feeling grumpy.

I made it to my local Metra stop and headed up the ice-covered, hazardous stairs. I looked up the stairs and saw a woman really struggling to climb to the top. She was of short stature, and it was clear that she was suffering from some sort of chronic condition - perhaps multiple sclerosis. She had a hard time lifting her feet to climb the stairs, and she was hauling herself up by pulling on the handrail. I offered to help her; she thanked me and asked me to carry her bag. She made it to the top of the stairs, we exchanged a few pleasantries and we headed off to face our futures.

I remembered that I have seen this woman a few times as I scurried to my train. She never caught my attention before. My busy-ness and self-involvement prevented me from truly seeing her. As I rode the train into work this morning, I felt awe and shame.

I was in awe of this woman's persistence. She is working while battling a condition that a non-afflicted person can't really understand. She was pushing through her infirmities to do what needed to be done. I think that she must be one of those exceptional people - a true optimist, who overcomes her challenges with hopefulness. Just an everyday hero, getting on with life.

And then I felt ashamed. I am one of the luckiest people on earth. It is deeply wrong for me not to feel gratitude and thankfulness every waking moment. A twinge in my knee and ice on the sidewalk - trivial matters!! I am not worthy to be the bag-carrier of the woman stuggling to climb the icy stairs. I owe her both an apology and thanks for opening my eyes to see past my own privileged existence.

Reggie Watts

2011-02-28T05:10:00.000-08:00

I was ranting recently about the things that make me anxious; now I am going to talk about joy. Reggie Watts makes me feel joyful.

Just look at this guy! He has the wild hair going on, the multi-culti vibe, a hint of a smirk. When I look at him, I can't help but smile. He makes me glad to be part of the human race.

But his fun appearance is not the story. This fella is a towering talent. I first picked up on his mad musical skills when I ran into a Seattle band called "Maktub." (Digression: "Maktub" means "It is written" in Arabic). I heard Maktub's second album, "Kronos," in 2003 I think. I instantly became a fan, largely due to Reggie's awesome voice and improvisational abilities. He started doing stuff that didn't involve his Maktub bandmates, specifically solo excursions using a stereo digital multitack "loop" recorder. He decided to be his own band, using his voice to lay down percussion and "instrumental" tracks, then singing on top of those tracks. Check out one of his improvisations by clicking HERE. He also got into comedy and ultimately caught the attention of Conan O'Brien. Check out this piece that Reggie did for the Conan folks a while back.

So Reggie may be Bobby McFerrin's successor in the world of crazy vocalization. He may just be a very talented silly guy. I sure am glad to know about him.

Free-Floating Anxiety

2011-02-15T14:17:00.000-08:00

Here are things that are making me anxious today:

1. Tigers: I saw a billboard today that reminded me that there are only 3,200 tigers left in the wild. That doesn't sound like very many, people. In the early part of the 20th century, there were over 100,000 tigers. Tigers were voted "World's Most Popular Animal" by the viewers of the Animal Planet cable station, narrowly beating out the dog. So the world's most popular animal is on the verge of going "bye-bye." This makes me ANXIOUS.

2. U.S. National Debt: The total debt issued by the U.S. Government is about $14.2 trillion and will hit $15 trillion later this year if Congress raises the debt ceiling (and they will). Oh. My. God. $15 trillion of debt outstanding is equal to $48,100 for every citizen in the U.S. Enough money to buy 36,855,036,855 tickets to see Lady Gaga perform! It is impossible to imagine this much money, and don't we have to pay it back? This makes me ANXIOUS.

3. Iran: The news is full of reports about the latest demonstrations in Tehran and the latest brutal crack-down by the Iranian government and their goons. It is heart-breaking. I have known a few Iranians, and they are very cool folks; they really should be living in freedom. I don't think that the success of the Egyptians in chasing Mubarek out of town will be duplicated in Iran in the immediate future - Iran is hard-core, they could care less about what the world thinks of them. Ahmadinejad is a very scary guy and he is backed by people that are even more extreme. Public executions seem to be a form of entertainment for the Iranian government. If Iran gets nuclear weapons, I think a nuclear exchange becomes pretty likely. This makes me ANXIOUS.

4. Black Ice: It has been 2 weeks since Chicago's big blizzard and all of our snow is melting as temps head above freezing. But it gets cold at night, causing the melted snow to re-freeze. On roads and sidewalks, the result can be invisible - "black ice." I slipped in my driveway when I stepped on some black ice and almost did a face-plant (managed to stay upright by flailing my arms around and grabbing the doorhandle of my car). Black ice makes me ANXIOUS.

5. Unemployment: I am among the fortunate folks that kept working through the recession. I know people that have not been so lucky. The official unemployment rate in the U.S. has been 9% or higher since April 2009. But the official unemployment rate is vastly understated. If you add "discouraged workers" (folks that want jobs but quit looking due to lousy prospects) and the underemployed (folks with part time jobs that want full-time jobs), the rate is at least 20%. Oh, and don't forget all those college grads that are working fast food jobs - they are underemployed, too. And the 55 year old former head of human resources for a mid-sized company that is working at Starbucks to get health benefits - he's underemployed, too. I am a father; two of my kids are working (Praise Be!) and two are still in school. I worry about their employment prospects. Real unemployment numbers make me ANXIOUS.

Well, that is enough free-floating anxiety for now. Have a nice day.

The Day Before Groundhog Day

2011-02-01T06:50:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow marks the 125th anniversary of Groundhog Day. Since my mother's side of the family came from western Pennsylvania, less than an hour's drive from Punxsutawney, I grew up with pictures of the Groundhog Day ceremony in my house. I knew all about Punxsutawney Phil before Bill Murray made the movie. Before Murray's "Groundhog Day" movie, February 2 was simply a holiday based on an old legend about a rodent's weather-forecasting ability. The movie changed the meaning of the holiday in our popular culture. The phrase "Groundhog Day" has come to represent the act of going through a phenomenon over and over and over until one spiritually transcends it.

Here in Chicago, we get that "Groundhog Day" feeling about this time of year. Starting sometime in December, the skies turn grey and often stay that color for weeks on end. We get blasted with snow and cold. The days are short and so are the tempers of our fellow citizens. It does sometimes feel like we are living the same winter day, over and over and over. Save us, Punxsutawney Phil!!

But tomorrow, my friends, will be different.

According to the U.S. Weather Service and the chattering herd of media hypesters, Chicago is to be hit with a great-grandmother of a blizzard, starting this afternoon and extending into the wee hours of Groundhog Day. Breathless disaster junkies are claiming that this could be "the big one" with snowfall exceeding the infamous "Blizzard of '67." Winds will howl, leading to white-out conditions. THE CITY COULD SHUT DOWN!!!! PANIC AND CHAOS COULD ENSUE!!!!! RUN AWAY RUN AWAY TO ARUBA!!!!! (Except O'Hare will be closed).

Excuse me, but a big snowstorm in Chicago in early February simply isn't a newsworthy event. We are Chicagoans. We have four-wheel drive vehicles, several hundred thousand tons of road salt in storage, and drink antifreeze in the winter. Snowstorm? Feh!

In the immortal (immoral?) words of the 43rd POTUS, "Bring it on!"'

An Instrument I Wish I Could Play

2011-01-15T04:32:00.000-08:00

While in high school and college, I spent quite a bit of time sitting in the trombone section of the jazz band, honking on the bass trombone. It was quite satisfying to blow low tones and anchor the brass section. And I had several opportunities to play in unison with my brother low-register specialist, the baritone saxophonist. This is how I fell in love with the bari sax.

A good bari player can really throw down a bass line. He/she can make it pop in the low register, rumble and growl, adding bottom to jazz, funk and rock music. A virtuoso baritone saxophonist can blow like Coltrane and Bird, but in the bass tone zone. There is a soulfullness to the sound of a bari - gruff, yet warm and it grabs me every damn time I hear it. And bari sax players tend to be a tad on the geeky side, which I really like. They aren't the movie stars of the music world.

I have a list of bari players that just knock me out -

Gerry Mulligan: Gerry left us in 1996, and he was one of the greatest bari players in history. His tone was different - lighter and cooler than the typical rollicking baritone sax sound. He was bari guy on the Miles Davis "Birth of Cool" record. He played with Duke, Monk, Louis Armstrong, Chet Baker and Dave Brubeck. He put the bari in the jazz spotlight. Here is a clip of Gerry playing a wonderful old standard, "Satin Doll."

Harry Carney: Mr. Carney was probably the first major performer on the baritone sax. He played Conn saxophones with a very large-chambered mouthpiece, which produced a huge, rich tone that most bari players try to replicate to this day. Carney ran away from home at the age of 17 to join Duke Ellington's orchestra! Wow! And he was one of the first practicioners of "circular breathing," a technique that allows a hornplayer to hold a note indefinitely. Check out this youtube clip and you will hear Harry's artistry and experience the incredible tension and release that the cicular breathing technique can create.

Pepper Adams: Pepper was the "anti-Mulligan." Gerry was light and cool; Pepper was sharp and hot. They used to call him "the Knife" in honor of his attack and cutting tone. Pepper was a "hard bopper" and recorded with Mingus, Coltrane, Donald Byrd and a long list of other greats. He died of lung cancer at the age of 56 (which happens to be my age....). He played with a joyous ferocity that few musicians have ever attained. Here is a clip - wonderful stuff!

Ronnie Cuber: This guy is still alive and kicking ass! He can do it all - harp bop, soul, funk and every damn thing. In addition to playing with stars like Joey DeFrancesco (Hammond B3 organ superstar), Randy Brecker, Maynard Ferguson, and Lee Konitz, Ronnie has also played with a bunch of pop stars seeking that magical bari sound, including Paul Simon and Chaka Khan. I love this guy - he looks like a paunchy accountant, but he is one of the funkiest horn men alive today! Check out this clip...
Stephen (the Funky Doctor) Kupka: Doc has anchored the Tower of Power horn section for almost four decades! Imagine that! He introduced an entire generation to the robust bass honk af a well-played bari sax. He was a soulful, nerdy white kid back inthe 1970's; he is a distinguished-looking senior playa now. I still can't get enough of this guy - he has anchored TOP and defined its sound since its inception. Doc is a section player - not a soloist. And that is cool - here he is with TOP on the Letterman show some time back.
Dana Colley: Dana is a bari guy that nearly achieved rock superstardom. He was a member of the odd-ball power trio, Morphine, in the 1989-1999 period. The instrumentation was electric bass, drums and baritone saxophone. This band was led and driven by the late, great Mark Sandman (bass and vocals); Mark died of a heart attack on stage in 1999. Dana played some amazing bari and opened a new frontier of the baritone sax as a frontline voice in a rock/pop context. The music was incedible, rumbling with funky darkness down in the bass register. Even Sandman's voice was a baritone-bass instrument. Here is a particularly mesmerizing tune by Morphine, recorded in a small club - wicked!!!

I could add many more names to this list. Here in Chicago, we have a few local Baritone Sax Studs - Bob Centano is the guy that leaps to mind immediately. Bob plays the entire range of woodwind instruments, but seems to spend most of his time on the bari. He is no spring chicken - well into his retirement years. Bob worked in the Federal courts - clerking for Federal judges was his "day job" for many years. He is back to being a full-time musician in retirement. He also leads a big band around the Chicago area, and it is an excellent ensemble. Bob's playing is deeply soulful and full of surprises.

I am always amazed when a talented musican plays a big, intimidating instrument like the baritone sax and generates such marvelous sounds. I wish I could play that damned bari sax!

More Randomness

2011-01-10T04:21:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading a good book that was published in the late 1990's, "A Beautiful Mind." As you might recall, this was the story of John Nash, the genius mathematician who was also suffered from paranoid schizophrenia (the movie version of the book starred Russell Crowe). Dr. Nash miraculously was able to recover from this debilitating condition, and committed no violent acts while he was struggling with the malady. Young Jared Loughner of Tuscon AZ was unable to control his diseased brain, and he committed mass murder and grieviously wounded Rep. Gabrielle Giffords.

Nineteen people were shot; six died. The confluence of random events that brought these people together are boggling to consider. One generally doesn't worry about being murdered when heading out to an outdoor event hosted by one's local congressperson. It is a very rare occurence.

What triggered this mentally ill person? Was it his internal hell, the screaming of incoherent delusions? Was it the environmental noise, the political invective floating about our communities? Loughner's motivation was his disease - any other theory seems silly to me.

Remember Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Polytechnic Institutie shooter who killed 32 people? Loughner and Cho have very similar mental disorders. There are many people walking about with undiagnosed or misdiagnosed mental illnesses. They can't be shoved into a locked psychiatric unit against their will unless some legal authority declares them to be a threat to themselves or others. That is not an easy path to tread; most family members don't have the heart to take the action necessary to send their loved one to a locked unit.

When you cross the street, you risk being hit by a bus - if you randomly fail to look before you step off the curb, it can happen. When you go to any public event, you risk being shot by a parnoid schizophrenic who randomly decides to show up and start firing. These are not big risks, but they exist. If all guns were outlawed, would that reduce the risk of a mentally ill person killing lots of people? Probably (although illegal guns would certainly be available no matter what laws are passed). But it appears that the citizens of the United States prefer to bear the slight risk of random killing rather than accept the elimination of the right to bear arms.

You can't identify all the people who have the potential for committing psychotic acts prior to their psychotic actions. Our country wants its guns. This combination of facts means that psychotic people will own guns, and will occassionally blow away a bunch of people. But, hey, its not THAT big of a risk, right? And it is a random event. So grieve for those lost and those injured, deal with the perpetrator of these evil acts, but realize that eliminating a low-liklihood fatal risk entails costs that our country is unwilling to bear.

Chicago Blues Fest Might Cost You This Year

2011-01-05T19:37:00.000-08:00

This is a shot of me and Piano Willie at the 2005 Chicago Blues Festival (photo by my friend Alex Cuevas aka Big Alex). This event has been the largest free blues event in the world (I think) for many years. I just caught a press report that the City of Chicago is thinking about out-sourcing the management of all of its free festivals (including the music events and Taste of Chicago). Here is a link to the Sun-Times article on this situation.

Remember what happened to parking fees when the parking meters were privatized in Chicago? Well, the same deal will be struck on the festivals. No more free blues, folks - at least $10/day for the Blues Fest (and the Jazz Fest will charge admission, too). The city's finances are so messed up that it is willing to kill off some of the things that contribute to Chicago's civic excellence. The Blues Fest is still a bargain at $10/day, but of course the attendence will drop significantly. The size of the event would therefore have to be cut, the number of big-name acts would decline and a spiral would begin. I suspect that it would be the beginning of the end for the Chicago Blues Festival - it would eventually shrink away to nothingness. I hope I am wrong and that privatization will improve the Blues Fest. SummerFest in Milwaukee charges admission and it does well. But Summer Fest is huge and covers all types of music - it isn't a niche event like the Blues Fest and the Jazz Fest.

Of course, the lame duck Daley administration is moving so slow that the entire festival season is at risk. No acts have been booked yet, so I hear. Without privitization, there may be no festivals at all.

These festivals lose about $7MM/year. It would be nice if the foundations in the Chicago area would fill the gap so this civic treasure could be maintained. If it goes private, I fear that the Chicago Blues Fest will end up dead.

Society for the Preservation and Advancement of the Harmonica

2011-01-03T12:45:00.000-08:00

We humans like to flock together in groups that are organized by passionate interests. Bowling leagues, book groups, trade associations, fan clubs - the list is very long. One such sub-group is the Society for the Preservation andAdvancement of the Harmonica, or SPAH. Every instrument has at least one organized group of passionate players/admirers. There is the International Trombone Association, the Guitar Foundation of America and, of course, the Ukelele Guild of Hawai'i ("UGH" for short). I have not hung out with the members of all those groups. I have hung out with the members of SPAH, because I chew on the dang tin sandwich (translation - I play the harmonica).

So the members of SPAH roughly break into three groups:

1. The Traditionalists: These folks are trying to keep a dying musical tradition alive - the harmonica group. The basic traditional harmonica group is a trio - a chromatic harmonica player that carries the melody, a chord player that provides "rhythm" harmony backing for the lead (using a three-foot long instrument), and a bass player that honks on the harmonica equivalent of a tuba. If you are old enough, you might remember the Harmonicats - that is the musical style that the Traditonalists treasure. It is damn hard to play this type of harmonica music. It harkens back to the vaudeville era - harmonica bands were big in the 1920's and 1930's. As you might imagine, the Traditionalists tend to be a bit older than the average SPAH member.
2. The Blues Crowd: I fall in this group. Playing mostly diatonic harmonicas (small 10-hole instruments), these folks worship Little Walter Jacobs, Big Walter Horton, Sonny Boy Williamson II, George "Harmonica" Smith, Kim Wilson, Junior Wells and the rest of the folks that made the harmonica sound part of the American pop soundtrack.
3. The Monsters: These are the folks that have become true masters of the harmonica and all of its possibilities. Most of them play jazz, but there are also classical monsters and Irish music monsters. Howard Levy, Toots Thielmans, James Conway are three players that come to mind that fall into this category. Howard Levy is a terrifying player - he must have sold his soul to the Devil to get the wicked talent that he displays on the diatonic harmonica.

SPAH has one major blow-out every year - the annual convention. The 2010 event was in Minneapolis; 2011 will be in Virginia Beach. I have only attended one of these events. They are really quite remarkable. The top players hang out with the beginners and teach, provide tips and encouragement. This would be like the Major League Baseball All-Star Team hanging with the softball team sponsored by Joe's Bar & Grill, providing companionship and coaching. People tend to stay up all night for three nights straight, blowing harmonicas and acting strange. It is a gloriously joyful event.

Check out some harmonica music when you have a chance. Stevie Wonder is a great entry point. Dig into Kim Wilson of the Fabulous Thunderbirds. Chase down Howard Levy. You will be amazed.

2011

2011-01-01T06:10:00.000-08:00

I suppose one of the signs of aging is length of one's New Year's celebration. This year, we were actively enjoying the last day of 2010 with great music (a performance of Beethoven's 9th) and self-care activities (family luncheon, sauna, massage, hot tub soaking). We were done before dinner time. I was mysteriously afflicted with a wicked headache, so I had to lay down for a bit until it went away. I arose at 10 PM, enjoyed a bit more family time with my wonderful wife and 2 youngest daughters, shared a champagne toast with my wife, and went back to bed. No inebriation, no noisemakers, no dancing, no party for this aging Boomer. I woke up at 5AM on this first day of 2011. It is very quiet here.

Those of us born in the mid-1950's are in the fat part of the Baby Boom demographic bulge. Our older brothers and sisters, born in 1946, will turn 65 this year, so 2011 will be the first year in which Boomers start to move into the "old age" category. This has been a large, messy, wonderful, terrible generation. I took a gander at the New York Times this morning and found this article on aging Boomers. It is fair to say that we are more egotistical and self-indulgent than past generations of Americans. As the Times said this morning. "The self-aware, or self-absorbed, feel less self-fulfilled, and thus are racked with self-pity."

When I am feeling especially important, or especially discouraged, I find it useful to consider the immensity of geologic time. The earth was formed around 4.6 billion years ago; the oldest stuff discovered on our planet are zircon crystals, found in Australia, that scientists estimate are 4.4 billion years old. Single-celled life forms emerged 2.5 billion years ago; it took another 2 billion years for shelled mollusks to show up in the fossil record. Arachnids ventured onto dry land about 430 million years ago; amphibians followed them 60 million years later. In the Permian period, 248 million years ago, the Earth experienced its largest mass extinction ever - 95% of marine species and 70% of land animals were wiped out (the suspected cause was rapid climate fluctuation). Dinosurs died off 65 million years ago; hominids descended from the trees 6-8 million years ago. Modern humans appeared in east Africa about 190,000 years ago and began venturing across the globe about 70,00 years ago.

So we humans are a blip, a successful species that hasn't been around for very long in the grand scheme of things. The joys, ambitions, fears, dreams and disappointment of an individual human are quite insignificant when measured against the scope of our planet's life. We are simply creatures that live and die. Our big brains force us to think too much about the details of it all.

So 2011 will unfold, a blink in goelogic time, and we humans will focus on the daily crush of events and thoughts. Let's try to focus on one over-arching concept - it is a joy and a privilege to be alive.

Happy New Year.

Thinking About Songs

2010-12-27T01:41:00.000-08:00

Song-writing is often referred to as a craft, not an art. That makes sense to me. There are rules that you can apply to constructing a song, and a good song is usually a brief collection of words, carefully chosen. Songs have verses and choruses. They often have two contrasting sections, the theme and the bridge. They have "hooks" that repeat and grab the listener's attention. All these components can be studied and, with effort, mastered. I have also heard that there are many more sad songs than happy songs - sadness generally contains more drama and conflict than happiness, and thus provides greater opportunities to grab and hold the listener's interest.

If you sit down and read song lyrics, they often are not terribly impressive. The rhymes can be obvious and a bit banal, the thematic material can be weak. Most song lyrics don't qualify as great poetry. But if those lyrics are combined with a well written melody and a talented singer, a magical transformation can occur.

Since this is the holiday season, we have been hearing for the past several weeks, over and over, some incredibly banal lyrics - Christmas songs! OK, some songs get a pass due to their long history and connection to the Christmas story ("Oh Come All Ye Faithful," "We Three Kings," et al) but others are incredibly bad ("Jingle Bells," "Frosty the Snowman," and the horrific "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer!"). But even in this wasteland of terrible lyrics and simplistic tunes, there are some gems. In 1944, Judy Garland sang "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" in the film version of "Meet me in St. Louis." Here is a video of that performance. This is a GREAT song - this version contains the original melancholy line "until then we'll have to muddle through somehow." "Merry Little Christmas" struck a chord with the Greatest Generation - they were fighting in WWII when this version of the song came out; it articulated the longing for home and hope for a more peaceful future.

Hugh Martin wrote the lyrics for "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." His original version was even more downbeat than the version that Judy Garland recorded. Here is the alleged original draft:

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas, it may be your last

Next year we may all be living in the past

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas, pop that champagne cork

Next year we will all be living in New York

No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who were dear to us will be near to us no more

But at lease we all will be together, if the Fates allow

Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

And have yourself a Merry Little Christmas now

So this song contains all the components of greatness - intense lyrics, relevent to the time and the audience, yet universally appealing to anyone who has been separated from looved ones during the holiday season. Great craft is at work here - notice the internal rhymes in the two-line bridge ("olden days...golden days," "dear to us...near to us"). And the melody is both memorable and beautiful - it contains slow arpeggios and artful modulations that take it outside the "Jingle Bell" zone of stupidity.

Hugh Martin is a member of the Songwriters Hall of Fame. It is easy to understand why.

Boxing Day 2010

2010-12-26T08:28:00.001-08:00

On the day after Christmas, we are getting dumped on here in Chicago. We have big snowcakes on our yard furniture outside the window (full disclosure - the picture above is a random Chicago snow photo grab from a Google search, not my backyard).

This is Boxing Day, the traditional day for tipping service folks and giving money to the poor in Commonwealth countries. It is also known in some religous circles as St. Stephen's Day, or the Feast of Stephen - Stephen being the first Christian martyr. You might remember the words of the Christmas carol:

Good King Wencelaus went out

On the Feast of Stephen

When the snow lay round about

Cool and crisp and even.

We don't pay much attention to Boxing Day in the USofA. December 26 is "Exchange the Presents and Hit the Sales Day." But in this time of economic weakness, high unemployment and other tribulations, hitting the "alms box" with a little cash is more important than usual. Food banks are my preferred charity this year. This is a good day to make a deposit.

I just finished thumbing theourgh the Sunday New York Times; December 26th is also the day for the NYT's "Year in Pictures" section. From the deep tragedy of the Haitian earthquake to the giddy elation of the San Francisco Giants World Series championship, the images were well-chosen. Everyone has memories of the personal high points and low points of the year. Whatever your personal reality might be right now, the best path is the one that leads forward. For me, on this Boxing Day, my first step on my path forward is to resume my close personal realtionship with my snow shovel.

I know this guy...

2010-12-21T19:21:00.000-08:00

I know this guy who can take a $25 harmonica, disassemble it, apply amazing focused skill upon it and transform it into a high-quality instrument - the harmonica version of a Martin guitar. He is completely booked by professional harmonica players; you can't hire him to build a harmonica if you aren't already a client.

I know this guy who is an unbelievably talented electric guitarist - blues, jazz, R&B, soul, funk, country - you name it, he can play it. He is a deeply intelligent and well-educated person. If you are lucky enough to convince him to play in your band, your band will sound 200% better. But he absolutely abuses his health; very overweight, diabetic and almost unable to walk these days.

I know this guy who will tell you that he was married for "29 years, 11 months and 21 days" when all hell broke loose. His wife read "Eat Pray Love" and that was that. It was not a nice divorce.

I know this guy who is a gifted business executive. He worked far fewer hours than most people in his industry - so smart, he could get it all done quick. He called out a borderline psychotic CEO regarding dodgy business practices and he received a massive severence payment (the CEO launched him; his contract paid out). He received options in his next employer, a very sleepy insurance conglomerate, instead of a cash bonus; a big European company bought the sleepy conglomerate and the options generated yet another massive payment. His good luck never seems to end. He is retired now, at the age of 54.

I know this guy who is a wicked fit, tall, military man, a captain in the Illinois National Guard, who has done two tours in Iraq and two tours in Afganistan. His hobby - raising miniature dachsunds.

I know a lot of unusual guys.

A very Bad Day For the Harmonica Community

2010-12-17T18:46:00.000-08:00

Robin Rogers and Chris Michalek both passed away within a 24 hour period. I never met either of them, but I admired them greatly. Since I sing a bit and play harmonica, I can recognize great singers and harmonica players. Robin Rogers was a marvelous, traditional blues harp player with a gorgeous voice - a true blues singer. She has been fighting cancer for a long while and was told that her time on this earth was soon to end. She faced that truth bravely. Listen to this interview, if you dare. My heart broke when I heard it.

Chris Michalek did not have advance notice. He collapsed and died yesterday. I assume that he was a victim of heart failure. Chris was one of the top diatonic harmonica players on the planet. He was a master of blues, jazz, rock, funk -- you name it. He had nailed the overblows and overdraws that frustrate lesser players (like me). He knew how to properly amplify the instrument to turn it into a massive musical presence, driving the band. Here is a YouTube Video of Chris playing some awesome jazz.

Chris hadn't reached his 40th year. Robin hadn't reached her 54th year. Those of us who love harmonica blues and jazz are bereft. It hurts to lose hugely talented people.

Musical Ditch-Digging: Potbelly at Adams and Wacker, Chicago IL

2010-12-07T17:58:00.000-08:00

The ultimate musical ditch-digging gig in Chicago is playing at a Potbelly restaurant. Potbelly is a chain of sub shops with a cutesy decor and "quasi-cool" demeanor. One of the touches - live music in most stores, usually a singer-guitar banger. Most of the folks that take these gigs are young, mediocre wannabees. For the past few months, I have been buying my lunch at the Potbelly shop at Adams and Wacker. It is a 2 story joint, and the musican's nook is on the second floor balcony. When I came in for my turkey sandwich today, I was startled - I heard good music from pouring out of the poor soul that was in that tiny nook on the balcony!!

Imagine this - you have a passion for music. You are a young, attractive female. You have a lovely voice, somewhere in the alto/soprano range. You are a decent acoustic guitar player and do a great job of backing up your own vocals. You have been breaking your ass writing songs and hoping to get attention from somebody, anybody. And you are playing a 3 hour solo gig for peanuts on the second floor of a sandwich shop and NO ONE is listening!!! Yes, my friends, this is called Musical Ditch Digging.

The artist at my local Potbelly was Starina Catchatoorian. I heard her play a few tunes, including a very emotional and sincere cover of the Beatles tune, "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away." This is a talented musician. She said that she was a bit tired because she was up until 3AM last night recording songs.

So if you like female singer-songwriters, check out Starina. Here is a link to some of her music. Think good thoughts about this striving, talented person.

The voice of Ron santo

2010-12-04T05:08:00.000-08:00

The Tribune put together an MP3 containing snips of Cubs broadcasts. Ron Santo and Pat Hughes were a great team. And just listen to the humanity in Ron's voice! Chick here for the link.

Is it OK to grieve over someone you never met?

Losses, and the Cold

2010-12-03T15:29:00.000-08:00

The cold air has moved into E-Town and the rest of the Chicagoland region. When the calendar reaches December 1, the serious chill hits. Tonight, we should see six inches of snow. I still have a few things to do to prepare for winter - turn off the pipes leading to the outdoor faucets, that sort of thing. The warmth and the birdsong and the flowers in Amanda's garden are lost, for a while.

I sat with an old colleague of mine recently, drinking coffee. I hadn't seen this guy in 20 years or so. I remember him as a big, handsome, fit Alpha Male. He is 65 now and fighting through his second go-round with cancer (he beat prostate cancer, now on to melanoma). The real estate investment firm he works for has delivered losses to investors over the past couple of years. He is moving reluctantly into retirement. He is still handsome, but he has a haunted look around his eyes these days.

And today we received the news of Ron Santo's passing. For Chicagoans with any interest in baseball, Ron was a brother, a fellow fan that wore his emotions on his sleeve. I feel like I have lost a family member, which is ridiculous - I never met the man. But I listened to him broadcast Cubs games all summer long for many years. It was a strange connection; impersonal yet intense. Ron Santo fought diabetes his entire adult life, lost his legs to the disease, yet he kept moving ahead and achieving great things while staying connected to everyday people. In Chicago, we grieve for our loss in this cold season.

The season will turn, the Christmas and New Year holidays will distract us, the flowers will bloom again. But for now, at the front-end of a long winter, it looks like a cold, cold world.

Goodbye, Stan "Sarge" Davis

2010-11-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

The Chicago blues community has suffered another loss. Stanley "Sarge" Davis, owner of Lee's Unleaded Blues died of cardiac arrest on November 12. The funeral is today; I feel bad that I will miss it due to a business trip. Though I did not know Stan Davis well, I admired him greatly. He was a retired Chicago police officer, a genial man pursuing his passion for the blues after hanging up his service revolver. Lee's Unleaded Blues is one of the few remaining "true blues" clubs on Chicago's South Side. It has been around a long while - it was the Queen Bee Lounge in the 1970's.

So we have lost one of the unsung heroes of the blues world in Chicago. We can only hope that this great blues club will survive the owner's passing.

Who Gives Care to the Care Giver?

2010-11-09T06:10:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I had my annual check-up (I learned I am in disgustingly good health; nothing to whine about at all). I have been under the care of the same internist for many years. We have aged together; he knows all of my medical history. I don't have to explain my past to my doctor; I don't have to fill out forms. He remembers, and the things he doesn't recall are in my medical record.

As he poked and prodded me, he plied me with polite inquiries - "What's new? Did you have a nice summer? Any special plans for the holidays?" I answered, then turned the questions back on him. He told me that he just returned from Germany (my doctor is a naturalized U.S. citizen; born in Berlin). He also said that this was his first visit to his home country as a single man in 35 years. He told me that his wife died of cancer in June.....

As he shared this sad piece of news, he squared his shoulders and pulled his mouth into a straight line. I asked him how he was doing; he said "Well, I am working a lot - 14-15 hours a day. I get home, eat a sandwich and walk the dog. Walking the dog is the highlight of my day."

Then he caught himself, changed the subject back to my health. I gave him my card and told him to call me, come over for dinner. He was embarrassed, I think. He moved briskly through the rest of the appointment, shook my hand, and hurried out of the exam room.

He seemed to be radiating pain. He is burying himself in his work to avoid his grief. And I wondered - who gives care to this care giver? He didn't want to receive it from his old patient, that's for sure.

That meeting was over two months ago and I haven't heard from my doctor. Maybe today I will give him a call.

Randomness Rules

2010-11-06T05:03:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 3AM this morning, worrying about various things. It is amazing how many topics generate concern in the wee hours! Since I was awake and needed to distract myself from my cares, I picked up a book that I had been reading off and on for the past few weeks and finished it. It is called "The Drunkard's Walk; How Randomness Rules Our Lives," by Leonard Mlodinow. Dr. Mlodinow is a physics PhD and teaches at Caltech. This is a very good book. Here are a couple of concepts that the author presented:

There is a view that is sometimes called "determinism" - the concept claims that the current state of the world determines precisely the manner in which the future will unfold. One outcome of this viewpoint is the belief that one's personal qualities/character lead directly to specific consequences. In order for determinism to be true, the laws of nature must dictate definite outcomes and we have to know all of those laws. We also need to have all the data necessary to describe the system, and can't miss anything -no unforeseen effects. We also need to have enough brain power (or computer muscle) to analyze this vast quantity of data and draw the right conclusions.

I am going on record right now - I repudiate, reject deny and vilify determinism! Whenever I hear someone say "Everything happens for a reason," I want to tear my hair out. No, things DON'T happen for a "reason!" Things happen due to random events, which are things that can't be foreseen. The best humans can do to manage their futures is to build useful skills and keep trying persistently to catch a break.

Let me illustrate this with a long story.

In 1988, a young woman got on a bus in downtown Chicago, heading home after her work day. On the seat next to her was the classified advertising section of the Chicago Tribune. The woman didn't generally read the Tribune, and the ad section wasn't full of interesting news, but she picked up the paper to pass the time as she rode home. There was a column of personal advertisements - this was the "pre-Internet" era; personal ads were all the rage. The woman had recently ended a long relationship, so she looked at the "Men Seeking Women" section; she got out her pen and circled two ads, and took the paper with her when she got off the bus.

Back in her apartment, the woman called her brother. "I am thinking about answering a personal ad. Listen to these two and tell me which you like best." She read the personals to her brother, and he said, ""Hmmm...Well, the guy in the second one said he is a father. You like kids; maybe you should answer that one."

Ten days later, a tired divorced guy got home from work. In his mailbox was a large envelope from the Chicago Tribune, containing about 70 letters in response to his personal ad. He opened a beer and sat down at the kitchen table to review them. Many were sad; from women that seemed desperate. Some were from lonely professional women - doctors/lawyers/executives. And one was from the woman on the bus.

The guy opened the letter and glitter fell out, all over the floor. "Excellent attention-grabbing device," he muttered under his breath. The letter was short, but well-written. And it was typed, so he didn't have to decipher sloppy handwriting. The woman from the bus included a snapshot. She was very cute. He sat and pondered. Then he picked up the telephone and called the number she included in her note.

We have been married for 20 years now, and our oldest daughter is applying to college. She helped me raise the 2 kids from my first marriage and we are working on raising the 2 girls.

Random Events: (1) Someone left the classified section on the bus. (2) Woman gets on that bus. (3) Woman happens to sit near the newspaper. (4) Woman decides to pick up the newspaper and read the personals. (5) Woman picks 2 ads from the paper. (6) Woman's brother recommends that she answers one of the ads. (7) Woman decides to type letter. (8) Woman decides to put glitter in the envelope. (8) Guy notices these two touches. (9) Out of the 70 letters, guy decides to answer the woman's letter.

Actions that the Humans Took To Manage Their Futures: (1) Divorced guy wanted to meet a new person and was having trouble, so he took out a personal ad. (2) Woman that just left a relationship wanted to meet an new person and decided to answer the ad. (3) Woman took the time and used creativity to make her letter stand out. (4) Guy had the courage to call a complete stranger and ask her out on a date.

One could say that my two daughters owe their existence to glitter. How random is that?

Fall in the Upper Mississippi, and Mitch the Ice Cream Guy

2010-10-10T13:46:00.000-07:00

It hs been unseasonably warm in the midwest - over 80 degrees on October 10. We decided to leave Chicagoland and head out to the country to see some fall colors. With teenagers in the back and wife by my side, I pointed the Volvo northwest. After about five hours, we arrived in Ferryville WI. Our cabin was a few miles from the Mississippi River and it was blessedly quiet there. But we wanted to see the mighty Mississippi and the river towns. River towns always have been slightly disreputable - transients have rolled through for generations, looking for food, alcohol and hanky-panky. Ferryville is really small, but across the river is a somewhat larger town - Lansing, Iowa. The locals have almost scrubbed away the river town sleaze (except for a few grungy bars down by the riverfront). We saw an interesting establishment in a very old small commercial building. It was called "Wall-Marks Deli, Ice Cream and Antiques." We had to stop in, and we encountered a gentleman named Mitch - His handsome face is pictured above. Mitch served up cones to the teenagers and a chocolate milkshake for me - thick and rich.

I had a conversation with Mitch, which is recounted below. I am operating from memory here - did not tape his comments (or mine):

"This deli stuff is a new experience for me. I am a welder and a machinist; been working in the factories around here for over 25 years. I worked for a long stretch for a chemical company up in LaCrosse. I got laid off last year; the whole plant shut down and the production was moved to Juarez, Mexico. There were 850 people let go. Now I heard that the plant in Juarez is shutting down. They can't get skilled workers and the drug violence is beginning to screw things up. The plant might come back to the U.S. or maybe to China. I could care less, at this point.

So I got together with a couple of buddies and we opened Wall-Marks. You can see that there are marks on the brick wall outside from one of the floods that happened over a hundred year ago, so we used that to come up with a name. The WalMart people haven't sued us yet.

We opened in April, and like I said, I am new to the restaurant game. We had a good season; lotsa traffic. doncha know. With the boaters and the bikers, we did okay. I thought it would die off after Labor Day, but we have had a big rush of leaf-peepers, like you - I have met a few folks that live near you in Chicago. This is the peak weekend for colors. The bikers did a big charity ride yesterday, cancer charity of some kind. I ran out of a lotta stuff, we were totally slammed with hungry bikers.

We get flocks of Harley people all the time in this town; I really don't know why. They like the Sandbar down by the river. They do drink specials there pretty much every night. Sometimes it gets a little hairy. But most of the bikers are as old as I am and know how to behave. They like to stop in here for lunch and dessert. I think they like the meatball sandwich the best - "Mitch's Magnificent Meatball." Oh, sure, its the best meatball sandwich you'll find in the Upper Mississippi Valley.

I heard that some biker hit a deer last night. Killed the dear, but he walked away unhurt. Motorcycles and deer don't mix. We had another collision about a week ago - guy had his wife on the back of his Fatboy, hit a buck, his wife flew off and got run over by another Harley. Broke her pelvis, messed her up pretty good. I got rid of my bike about 10 years ago. Woke up one day and said to myself "What the hell are ya doin'?" Too much risk, man.

The missus and I moved up here a few years ago. We used to live in Prairie du Chien, about 30 miles south on the Wisconsin side. I was doing independent welding stuff for machine shops and such. We had a chunk of land up in Victory; its an unincorporated village about 15 minutes from here in Wisconsin. We had a trailer on the land and a utility hook-up. It was quiet and beautiful, a stream runs through it. Pretty soon, we were up here every weekend. I had a hard time going back to Prairie du Chien on Sundays. So a few years back, we sold the house, built a new place in Victory and came up here. I am really glad I sold my place when I did - couldn't have got the price now that I got then.

So I am scaping out a living here. We are going to close for the season on November 1. I will try to get some welding work to carry me through the winter. This isn't the life I expected. It could be a helluva lot worse, though. As long as the bikers and the boaters show up and buy stuff from Wall-Marks, I should be OK. I might have to work until I fall over dead, though - tough to save money with this type of working life.

I visited Chicago once; I ain't ever goin' back. I don't understand how people can live like that, so much noise and the crowds, traffic jams and such. Great meatball sandwiches, though."

Top Ten Reasons that the Harmonica is an Awesome Instrument

2010-10-05T15:09:00.001-07:00

10. When played in a particularly shrill fashion, the harmonica will induce all dogs within earshot to howl lustily.

9. You can buy a good quality diatonic harmonica for well under $50 - this is the cheapskate's favorite instrument.

8. You can practice your harmonica while driving your car. Try THAT with a trombone!

7. A harmonica provides you with something to do while riding the elevator (although you might not want to play it when you have fellow passengers in the elevator).

6. The harmonica is almost as flexible and interesting as the human voice.

5. You can front a blues band if you can play the harmonica and sing a little.

4. Harmonica players can say that they play the same instrument as Howard Levy - although Howard plays the harmonica like no one else in the universe (he is a very scary monster of the harp).

3. Harmonica + a bullet microphone + a vintage tube amplifier = world's best contemporary musical sound.

2. The harmonica is a wind instrument that plays chords!!! Try THAT with a trombone!

And the Number 1 reason why the harmonica is an awesome instrument:

1. It fits in your pocket, so you can express yourself musically at any time. My trombone most certainly does NOT fit in my pocket.

Proctologist Defrauds Medicare

2010-09-24T12:53:00.000-07:00

I know I should be incensed and angry about this story, but I am giggling over it instead. First of all, the name of the proctologist is Dr. Boris Sachakov (funny name). And he claims to have removed 85 hemmoroids from a single patient (Owwwwwww!!). Heee heee.

Here is the article.

The good doctor allegedly stole $3.5 million form Medicare. His claims would make him the busiest ass man in the country.

This guy is a true butt-hole.

The Next Gen

2010-09-21T15:06:00.000-07:00

Here he is, folks - my grandson, Patrick Christopher Blackwell. He has taken a lively interest in the harmonica, as you can see from this picture. Pat grabs it, stuffs it in his mouth, and does the ol' huff & puff. That is how harmonica players start.

When I feel tense and stressed from my work or from other aspects of my life, some time with little Pat is blessed relief. He is full of hot boy energy. He runs everywhere and vocalizes with joyous abandon. He loves music and beats. He is too young to feel worried. He is fearless. I fervently hope he does not lose these qualities as he gets older, but he probably will.

A grandchild expands your circle of concern. I used to stew over what might happen in the next 70 years (the life span of my children). That has now expanded to 80-90 years now that Pat has arrived. Will life be OK in 2060? I will be dead and buried; little Pat will be middle-aged.

The Next Gen faces a world full of wonder and challenges. When I think back on the changes that have occurred during my lifetime, I am amazed. Pat will feel the same way when he reaches mid-life and looks back. What changes will he see, experience, perhaps create?

I am deeply thankful that I get to be a grandfather.

What mental illness can do

2010-09-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

I was awake the early Tuesday morning - I got up at 2:30 AM to use the restroom and was struggling to fall back asleep. I was beginning to drift off when I heard a deep-throated "Boooom!" I popped up and said "What the hell was that?" My dear wife did not hear the explosion because she sleeps with ear plugs. I thought it was a lightning strike, but it wasn't raining. I listened for sirens and heard none. Then I thought, "Maybe I dreamt it." I went back to sleep.

Three hours later, I was heading to the cleaners to pick up my laundry. I noticed that Nichols Middle School was cordoned off by the police and the area was crawling with cops. That was weird. I thought perhaps that there had been some kind of bomb threat - the middle schooolers do that sometimes to try for a day off.

Soon, there were news choppers over head. I got my Blackberry to tell me the story - "Headless Body Found in Park Next to Nichols Middle School." The poor dead guy is pictured above - Colin Dalebroux, from Wisconsin. Unbeknowst to me, Colin was my neighbor - he lived less than 2 blocks from my house. I don't remember seeing him in the 'hood.

Colin apparently was struggling with depression. He decided to exit, but he did so in a most weird manner. He constructed a pipe bomb. He actually built two bombs. Then, he arose in the middle of the night and walked 3 blocks to the park next to the middle school He held the pipebomb to his neck and detonated it. Death was instant - and very nasty. His head and neck were gone. A guy found him at 5:15A M while walking his dog. The authorities closed the school while trying to figure things out. When the family surfaced, they said that Colin had suffered from depression since childhood.

Isn't it amazing what mental illness can induce people to do? How incredible - a clinically depressed guy musters the energy and skill to build an explosive device in order to make sure the world knows about his Final Solution. Weird, sad and sick.

Keep this 21-year old suicide victim in your thoughts. It's a shame and a pity.

Staycation - Meeting Mo at the Firehouse

2010-08-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last day of my short staycation. I went to the gym, fiddled around the house a bit, then decided to write a get well note to an old friend who has had a rough time with health issues this summer. I walked down to the local post office to mail the note, then thought I would do a vacation thing - sit at a bar and drink a beer at happy hour. I wandered over to the Firehouse Grill, a Southeast Evanston establishment that is housed in an actual old fire station (Fire Station #2, which was closed when a new, modern facility was built 2 blocks away). The Firehouse Grill is a solid family lunch and dinner joint, with a nice bar and decent beer collection. I walked in and pulled up a stool next to an older gentleman (pictured above). He greeted me politely, I reciprocated and we began a conversation. His name is Moselle, aka Mo, and here is what he told me (I am paraphrasing since I didn't record the conversation):

"I am 81 years old now. Been retired for 13 years. I came to Chicago in 1951 because there was no work for me in San Francisco - that's my home town. I came home from the Korean War kinda messed up. On October 23, 1950, the North Koreans blew me out of my foxhole. I lost my eye and I had lots of cuts and small injuries, but I recovered. Some might call me a disabled veteran, but I worked from 1951 until 1997. I was a long-haul trucker, and I loved it. No damned boss breathin' down my neck.

I been healthy all my life, except for my eye. I started smokin' cigarettes when I was 14, and I still smoke 'em when I got 'em. I will need to step outside a little later for a smoke, no offense.

I got four children - 2 girls and 2 boys. They all live out west. One of my daughters is a doctor. The other is a stewardess; I get free flights because I am her daddy. You get taxed on those free flights, though, so they ain't completely free. My daughter pays the taxes for me.

I just live a block and a half away from the Firehouse Grill so I come over here alot. I slipped on the ice and broke my hip last winter, so it is harder for me to get around. It takes a long time to heal a busted bone when you are 81. I hafta use a cane now. It's a good thing I live close to the Firehouse. My wife still works; I come when she is working. She works nights sometimes.

I love to fish. When I was younger, I hated fishing, but I love it now. I go all over. In the Chicago area, I like to fish on the Fox River, up north toward Milwaukee.

I sometimes get together with a few other Korean War veterans. We understand each other. It was a terrible war. People have sorta forgot about it, but it is still going on in a way. The North Koreans were a nasty bunch; looks like they still are. We might have to mix it up serious with them pretty soon.

I feel pretty good for an old man. I got used to having one eye a long time ago. The hip still bothers me; probably will until I'm dead. What the hell can you do about it? Can't expect an 81 year old body to stay strong."

Mo is an awesome guy in my neighborhood that I have never met until yesterday. Striking up conversations with strangers can be a wonderful thing.

Staycation - Kayaking off the Evanston Shore

2010-08-25T05:47:00.000-07:00

Due to some scheduling issues, kid activities and work commitments, I was unable to to escape for a summer vacation this year. Now that the season is coming to a close, I decided to stay home for a couple of days and try to capture a little bit of vacation attitude without leaving town. I took the girls to the Morton Arboretum yesterday - I am ashamed to say that I have never been there over my 31-year residency in the Chicago area. We enjoyed the massive garden, and barely scratched the surface of the place during our 4-hour visit.

Today, I am planning on renting a kayak at the beach office in Evanston and paddling around the lake for a bit. It is a cool morning - the coolest we have had in several weeks, with temperatures in the 60's. The sun is out, however, and the air is calm. So I am going. I have invited the missus and the kids.

But I have to say that Staycations are challenging. The household chores still nag at me. I am still in my everyday environment, even though I am avoiding the office. I feel my everyday stress - things undone, lawns to mow, bills to pay. Changing my headset with no change in scenary is hard for me.

And there are significant family changes in progress. My 18-year old overcame her various set-backs and graduated from high school last Friday - an emotional experience because she had more than her share of struggles to reach that milestone. Now the high school graduate is facing her future, which currently includes employment and planning a gap year before heading to college. My youngest is gearing up to start Evanston Township High School on Monday. ETHS is a big urban school with lots of excellent features and some difficult issues. So we worry about out 5-foot tall, 14-year old girl.

But on this day, I want to float on Lake Michigan. With luck, this tightness in my stomach and in my mind will release as I paddle offshore, my chores left on the land.

An Old Memory - Laffing Sal

2010-08-19T12:25:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, growing up on the east side of the San Francisco Bay, there was a place that I longed to see. It was an amusement park over on the Pacific side of San Francisco, called Playland at the Beach. It was near the Cliff House; in fact, the owner/developer of Playland also owned the Cliff House. This was a classic Depression-era amusement park. By the time I got to prime Playland age, the facility had begun to decay. This made it creepier and more alluring to me. And the creepiest thing about Playland was Laffing Sal, pictured above.

I have learned that there were many Laffing Sals at many amusement parks across the nation. I think there still may be some in operation. Sal was a terrifying thing - 7 feet tall, ugly, and mechanical. At Playland, Sal was positioned on the second floor of the Fun House, on a balcony. She bowed at the waist, waved her arms and twisted about while a manical female laugh was blasted continuously from nearby loudspeakers at very high volume. Sal was the first of the animatronic figures - Disneyland/Disneyworld owes a lot to this old hag.

I was about 10, I think, and I really wanted to go to Playland. I don't think I had ever visited the place. I was pestering my dad to take me, and he wanted no part of it - a long drive, crowds and expenses did not fit my father's idea of a good time. My mom overheard our interaction and weighed in forcefully. "You never take your son anywhere! It isn't like he asks for much. Why can't you do something nice for him once in a while?" I was horrified and delighted with my mom's intervention - horrified to hear the argument, delighted that I was going to get my way. My dad was shamed into taking me to Playland at the Beach.

It was surreal.

We drove in silence, parked and caught a trolley over to the park. I walked through the place, rode the roller coaster, stared at scary Laffing Sal, went into the Funhouse and tried to knock down the milk bottles with baseballs at the arcade. My dad followed along behind, picking up the tabs, looking grim. It was not a Hallmark father-and-son experience.

I think I enjoyed myself somewhat, but I never went back to Playland after that. The appeal of amusement parks ended for me on that day.

Playland at the Beach was demolished in early September, 1972 - about the time that I started attending UC Berkeley. I think they built condos on the site. Laffing Sal is in an obscure museum (Musee Mecanique) at Fisherman's Wharf. My father has been dead for 19 years now. I should erase this old memory; it serves no useful purpose. But it keeps popping up, often when I am surprised by loud, raucous, female laughter........

James Brown Again

2010-08-09T07:47:00.000-07:00

We had a Sunday family dinner, and my adult daughter, son-in-law and grandson were in attendance. Little Patrick (aka the Pie-man) started walking about 2 weeks ago; he has the 15-month old toddler swagger, the confidence of a first-born son. He also has music in his head already - beat-boxing and chanting his happy nonsense syllables. I thought that he might like to hear some tunes, so I plugged in the iPod to the sound deck and hit the James Brown section of the device. JB was a crazed genius; it still saddens me that he is gone. JB and Ray Charles - I think about them often.

And when "Popcorn" came through the speakers, the Pie-man started to dance. James Brown, comin' 'round again, with the next generation.

As the Tower of Power tune said, "It may be a different age; but I'm on the same page; 'Cause there is one thing I've found; I'm still diggin' on James Brown."

"Delayed Due To A Medical Emergency"

2010-08-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

I am a Chicago commuter, climbing aboard the Metra North Line at Main Street in Evanston. The train is a lovely experience - quick, relatively quiet and somewhat retro (no WiFi, people still read newspapers). An extra plus - you can buy a beer in the terminal for the ride home and exit at your station with your attitude nicely adjusted (not that I do that, of course).

This morning seemed pretty typical. We had rain, but my train was on time. When we hit the Ravenswood station in Chicago, we stopped and didn't move. The conductor got on the intercom and announced "Ladies and gentlemen - we will be delayed due to amedical emergency. We are waiting for an ambulance to revmove the passenger from the train. We should be on our way in a few minutes." We sat for about 20 minutes, then headed into the Loop.

I can't seem to get the afflicted passenger out of my head this morning. What happened? Heart attack? Stroke? Are there defribillators on the Metra trains? Who was the afflicted passenger? Did he/she survive? There was no announcement, of course, and I didn't get a chance to quiz the conductor.

This unfortunate person probably started his/her daily routine with no expectations of drama or tragedy. He/she was my fellow traveler today. I hope that he/she didn't end up at a surprise final destination.

Fred Anderson Stricken

2010-06-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

I just heard that Fred Anderson, avant-guarde jazz saxophonist and leader of the Velvet Lounge, had a massive heart attack about a week ago. Here is the Tribune's report.

Fred was a Chicago treasure in many ways. He kept a gang of creative musicians employed. He provided a convival environment for music and comaraderie. He was on a mission to spread the sound around. At 81 years of age, he is the joyful grandfather to Chicago's jazz community. Fred is a much-loved artist.

It sounds like his condition is grim. Let's hope the doctors are wrong.

Pulling back

2010-06-15T15:24:00.000-07:00

I have pulled the plug on the Mystery Band and gone back to being a harmonica noodler, playing in the backyard to annoy the dog. I like to play, but lining up gigs, trying to get paid, organizing my wonderful fellow musicians - it starts to feel like work. I already have a full-time (plus) job (which, by the way, deserves more of my attention). I was subsidizing the gigs because club owners can't afford to pay a living wage to musicians in this era of iPods and downloads - it gets to be a burden to "pay to play" at every gig. My family also deserves my full engagement. Life is busy, and sometimes you have to pull back in order to go forward.

Maybe I will go back to it some day. Maybe not. The band was starting to feel like a form of self-indulgence, a stupid ego trip for an aging white man who has no business playing the blues. So I will start acting my age and living clean. No more late nights in dive bars for me. My favorite dive bar has closed, anyway.

If anyone wants a couple hundred copies of the Mystery Band CD, let me know.

The Conversion of a Newspaper Fanatic

2010-05-03T04:50:00.000-07:00

When I arrived in Evanston, Illinois on September 8, 1976, the first thing I purchased was a copy of the Chicago Tribune. That was how I got my bearings in the sprawling Chicago metropolis. I was a dedicated newspaper reader - grew up on three local papers in the San Franciso Bay Area, and I believed the Chicago Trib was a superior rag to any of the papers I read (although the San Franciso Chronicle came close at times). I tracked world events, followed the local news, read music reviews, enjoyed the columnists and kept up with sports via the Trib.

I am now done with the Chicago Tribune.

With its bankruptcy and the horrific changes made to save money and attract folks with limited attention spans, the Tribune is no longer worth the paper it is printed on. It makes USA Today look good. Local news is avaliable on-line and on the tube. The only reason to buy the Trib was to read the funnies - which have been cut, too. So after 30+ years, I have let my subscription expire.

Of course, the entire newspaper industry is in free-fall. Those of us who grew up non-digital are fading/dying, or converting to new media. The generations that follow us see newspapers as anachronisms. Advertisers are migrating, subscribers are bolting. The reporters are gradually finding different outlets. Some oldsters are wringing their hands and moaning about how our nation will be damaged by the fall of newspapers.

Hogwash!

We are flooded with news and opinion, the news cycle has accelerated beyond belief and a few dead newspapers won't matter at all. Local sources of information are still doing OK (I get my free local paper on my porch once a week, and it is pretty good - oh, and local businesses advertise aggressively in its pages).

I am still subscribing to the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal; this allows me to keep getting my fingers dirty every day. But I am thinking about going digital with these papers, too. My recycling bin will be lighter, as will my briefcase.

Pat Hall Tribute

2010-02-04T15:03:00.000-08:00

Pat Hall, the rollicking, rowdy keyboard man who has entertained Chicagoans for several decades, died on January 24. He was ill for a while, but his passing was sudden. There was to be a healthcare fund-raiser for him on February 14; it is still going forward to raise money to cover his final expenses and establish a fund for his son, Brian (contribution is $20). The event will occur at the Red Line Tap, 7006 N. Glenwood in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago (773-274-5463). Pat was a long-time Rogers Parker, and he played frequently at the Red Line, the Heartland and Dukes Bar. If you are in Chicago on Valentine's Day, stop by and raise a glass to Pat.

Pat was the leader of the Fat Guys Band, a very entertaining blues-based group that has been active in the Chicago area for many years. He also has performed as a comedian in the Coupla Fat Guys videos - you can find them on YouTube. I had the good fortune to sit in with Pat a couple of times at Duke's Bar in Rogers Park. He was a strong vocalist as well as a talented keyboardist. He died too young, and he will be missed by the Chicago blues community.

Farewells in 2009

2010-01-11T09:22:00.000-08:00

We are into the second week of 2010, and I wanted to say my good-byes to ten of the great blues and jazz musicians that shuffled off this mortal coil in 2009.

First and foremost, farewell Koko Taylor, Queen of the blues! She left us on June 3; her gravelly, powerful voice is sorely missed. She performed up to a month before her death and her funeral was on the first day of the 2009 Chicago Blues Festival. She was 80 years old when she died.

He wasn't a blues artist, but Les Paul still had a major impact on blues music - so many blues players used the solid-body electric guitar that he invented. He was a fabulous jazz player; he also played country music under the name of "Rhubarb Red" Les departed on August 12; he was 94 years old.

It was a shock to lose Norton Buffalo so quickly last fall. This fantastic harmonica player bridged many musical worlds, from rock and pop to blues and jazz. Cancer took him on October 30; he was only 58 years old.

New Orleans lost a treasured musician when Snooks Eaglin (born Fird Eaglin, Jr.) died on February 18. Snooks was blind and he could play almost anything on the guitar. His vocal style evoked Ray Charles. Folks used to call him "the human jukebox" because he knew thousands of songs. He was 72 when he died of a heart attack.

John Cephas, one of the foremost practioners of the Piedmont finger-picking acoustic blues guitar, passed on March 4. He was 78 years old. For the past 30 years, John Cephas played and sang in a duo with harmonica player Phil Wiggins. Phil is only 55 years old and now he has lost his partner.

Luigi Paulino Alfredo Francesco Antonio Balassoni, better known as Louie Bellson, was a fabulous Italian American jazz drummer. He pioneered the use of the double bass drum kit. He played with the legends - Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Oscar Peterson, Sarah Vaughn, Louie Armstrong; even James Brown! He was married to Pearl Bailey, the African American singer and Republican, until her death in 1990. (I had the honor of playing with Louie back in my days as a young trombonist with the UC Berkeley Jazz Ensembles - what a wonderful guy he was!) Louie left us on February 14; he was 83 years old.

Edwin Joseph Bocage, better known as Eddie Bo, was a New Orleans jazz pianist who switched to rhythm and blues in the 1950's. He wrote several minor hit tunes ("Check Mr. Popeye," "My Dearest Darling," "Pass the Hatchet," etc.). and he recorded for more than 40 different record labels. He produced many records for artists such as Irma Thomas and Art Neville. Eddie Bo died on March 18, 2009 of a heart attack.

Samuel Lee McCollum, aka Sam Carr, was one of the top blues drummers of all time. His father was the influential blues guitarist and vocalist Robert Lee McCollum, who recorded under the names Robert Lee McCoy and Robert Nighthawk. Sam played with a long list of great bluesmen, including Sonny boy Williamson I, (John Lee Williamson) Sonny Boy Williamson II (Rice Miller), Big Joe Williams, Big Jack Johnson, Frank Frost, T-Model Ford and Buddy Guy. Sam died on September 21 at the age of 83.

The great blues guitarist/vocalist and political activist, Willie King, died after a massive heart attack on March 8; he was almost 66 years old. He was an old-school juke joint player that specialized in playing and singing what he called the "struggling blues" - tunes that reflected the realities of his life as a social activist.

Mark Sallings was an Arkansas-based blues harmonica player and vocalist. He didn't achieve much fame and little fortune, but he could really play the harp. He was a skilled saxophonist and pianist, too. Mark was one of those dedicated and hard-working journeymen that make up the bulk of blues artists in the world. He died at the tender age of 56 on February 25, in a car accident on the way to a casino gig in Tunica, Mississippi.

This is an arbitrary list of 10 great folks; we lost many other wonderful artists in 2009 - Mighty Joe Young Jr., Jesse Fortune, Al Harris, Tim Lamb, James Gurley and many others. We are lucky to have shared the planet with these musicians.......

"It's A Mystery" Reviewed by James "Skyy Dobro" Walker in Blues Blast Bagazine

2010-01-08T08:11:00.000-08:00

Many, many thanks to James "Skyy Dobro" Walker for his kind and generous comments.....

Mr. G & The Mystery Band - It's A Mystery
Self Release / G-FreeThoughts Publishing
www.mrgandthemysteryband.com/
www.myspace.com/gandthemysteryband
11 songs; 73:07 minutes; Suggested
Styles: Harmonica Blues; Chicago Blues

Well, well, these are mysteries:

Who is Mr. G?

Who will be in his band at the next live show?

How can this group put out a really good, all original music, debut Blues CD using “a live in the studio approach with limited overdubs and few takes” while others invest excessively and come out with crap?

“Why can’t we all just get along?”

“Why can’t some people tell right from wrong?”

“Why are some people kind and generous and others are rotten to the core?”

“Why do we all love to sing and dance?”

“Why does a pretty girl get a tattoo?”

“Why do young men wear those saggy pants?”

Some of these puzzlers found in the title track have answers while others will remain unknown. First, “Mr G” is Chris Gillock, a singer, songwriter, and harpist who started life in California but finished his education in Chicago and put down area roots. He became a student of Chicago Blues and traded his California funk and jazz trombone for the Blues harmonica.

Mr. G established the Mystery Band on Thanksgiving evening in 2003, filling in for a busted booking at the now defunct Bill’s Blues Bar in Evanston, Illinois, where he was a “hanger-on” and investor. In the six years since, Mr. G has convinced over 45 of Chicago-land’s top blues and jazz players to join the Mystery Band’s mission: “to jam and have fun.” The liner notes list most of those recruits, and the “A Team” on this CD are very talented Chicago stalwarts and pedigreed, indeed: Guitars – OSee Anderson and Anthony Palmer; Drums – James Carter; and bass – Greg “E.G.” McDaniel.

As a reviewer, I receive too many “Blues” CDs that are not. It is a joy to receive this set of solid Blues with first rate playing, unique chromatic harp tones, and eleven original songs with both thoughtful and humorous lyrics. Some of Mr G’s raucous harmonica is rightly featured in the first track, which poses both deep questions (“mean people”) and funny mysteries (the “tattoos” and “saggy pants”).

Sometimes, Mr G juxtaposes a light hearted look and heart break in the same verse like in “My Dog and Me,” a swampy guitared story of marital breakup. “When I first met my wife, I thought she was so fine / But the longer I lived with that woman the more I loved my canine / I couldn’t satisfy her no matter how hard I tried / But now she’s gone and I must confess I feel dead inside.”
Back to fun in track three; “Hey José,” is a traditional 12 bar Chicago Blues shuffle with great harp soloing and guitar breaks by OSee Anderson. As the story goes, José is a best-friend bartender, and the narrator is in clearly in Chicago because he keeps ordering “another Old Style® beer.” This one is headed for a fun spot in my radio show!

Another must play song is the set’s real standout, a minor key chromatic workout, “Cheat Me Fair.” This slow Blues is an eight minute expose of love gone wrong featuring torturing vocals, harp solos and Anthony Palmer’s gut wrenching guitar. The narrator indulges in a curious fantasy about “driving an old Dodge Dart down to Mexico to find a Mexican girl who will follow him everywhere and always tell the truth.” Now that’s funny!

My first ear-worm (song that repeats later in your head) came from the chorus on “Get Out and Walk,” written when gasoline prices were over $4.00 per gallon in 2008. The special effects harp sounds come from a low D harp muted by a coffee cup. The rhythm guitar percolates like a mountain brook on this Country Blues flavored, go green themed number.

One song has Reggae flavoring, one a Bo Diddley beat, another is a rumba. There is an ode to square shouldered working folk, a “Payin’ Taxes” protest, and themes from after hours partying to both sides of love. Bottom line: every track on this CD is a winner. Put this CD in a blind listening test for Blues fans and friends, and they will agree that there is enough going on here to elevate to a national level this band that’s slowly building a following in the intensely competitive Chicago Blues market.

Reviewer James "Skyy Dobro" Walker is a noted Blues writer, DJ, Master of Ceremonies, and longtime Blues Blast Magazine contributor. His weekly radio show "Friends of the Blues" can be heard Thursdays from 7 - 8 pm and Saturdays 8 pm - Midnight on WKCC 91.1 FM and at www.wkccradio.org in Kankakee, IL

To See James “Skyy Dobro” Walker's CD rating system, CLICK HERE
For other reviews and interviews on our website CLICK HERE.

Bye Bye Bill's Blues Bar

2009-11-12T12:09:00.001-08:00

Back in August 2003, the first "real" blues club in Chicago's northern suburbs opened its doors. On November 10, 2009, those doors closed for good. Bill's Blues Bar is another failed small business.

Bill Gilmore, the leader of the club, deserves respect for his determination and grit. Lots of people invested money and time into the club (including me). The club never did well; it was always barely hanging on. Over the past few months, things got worse. While the recession played a role, the primary culprit was accumulated desperation - as things got tougher, service deteriorated and fewer customers came out - it was a spiral.

Bill Gilmore brought big-time blues to Evanston IL. James Cotton, Son Seals (RIP), Magic Slim, Rod Piazza, Lurrie Bell, Big Time Sarah, 'Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials, Eddie "the Chief" Clearwater, Melvin Taylor and the Slack Band - just to name a few. Bill's Blues Bar is also where my band, Mr. G and the Mystery Band, was born. We are coming up on the 6th anniversary of the Mystery Band's first gig (on Thanksgiving). Bill's Blues played a significant role in the development of my blues harmonica addiction.

I am sorry to see the club go, but I never thought it would stay open for six years -I thought it would be gone in 36 months. So it was a valiant effort. Think good thoughts about Bill Gilmore, and go out to hear some live blues in your community - if you don't, the clubs that present these acts will all die.

Bye Bye Bill's Blues Bar

RIP Norton Buffalo

2009-10-31T17:54:00.000-07:00

I posted about the great harmonica player and singer Norton Buffalo earlier this week and his battle with cancer. Well, its over now and we have lost another great harp player. It was quick and brutal - diagnosed on September 2 and gone on October 30.

So many will mourn him; so many will miss him.

Good Bye, Norton.

Income inequality - is it real?

2009-10-27T07:16:00.001-07:00

It is one of those things that "everybody knows." In the United States, the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. The middle class is getting squeezed and we are becoming a society that includes a small, wealthy elite class and a mass of struggling humanity. This "narrative" underlies much of our policy and legislation (and our tax system). Productivity in the U.S. economy has been improving (on average) at a decent clip, but wages are stagnant - and this is what is causing inequality to increase. I tended to believe it.

In my town, Evanston, Illinois, there is a university - Northwestern. One of the grizzled old tenured professors at that university is Robert Gordon, an economist with a Harvard/MIT pedigree. He is a middle-of-the-road guy (not a raging University of Chicago "free marketeer"). He wrote the "Macroeconomics" textbook that is used by college students around the nation. He is mainstream, baby.

So apparently Professor Gordon has been looking into productivity and income inequality. His results were summarized in a recent Forbes Magazine article. Cutting to the chase, Prof. Gordon's research allegedly demonstrates that most of the difference between productivitiy growth and income growth for the middle class can be explained by adjusting for government sector employment (17% of the workforce!!) that has zero increase in productivity (since it is an activity that generates no profit), smaller household sizes (leading to more households but not necessarily lower income growth per individual) and differing rates of inflation by region and by income level. So the great increase in income inequality isn't very great at all, apparently. Huh.

BUT Gordon does confirm that the top 1% of all earners in the U.S. are pulling away from the other 99%. So THOSE are the culprits!! Off with their heads!!!

To be a "top 1% culprit," you would need adjusted gross income of $410,096 in 2007. The top 1% earned about 22.8% of adjusted gross income in 2007 (according to the IRS) and paid 40.4% of all income taxes in that year. So it looks like these wealthy folks are carrying a decent share of the tax burden, right? And their tax rate is the highest of all income brackets - over 22% after all deductions and other hoo-ha that wealthy folks do. Oh wait - back in 1980, the top 1% culprits had effective tax rates of 34.5% So it has been good to be wealthy, right? Except that these numbers don't reflect state income taxes, property taxes, etc. But, hey, those are details - the tax rates have been cut back in a serious way since Jimmy Carter sat in the Oval Office. Remember those fabulous Carter years? Good times, man.

So how much more can we tax these top 1% culprits? Should we take 40%? 80%? 99.99%? And what is the impact on revenues if we put the screws to the wealthy in a serious way? Will our national budget be in better shape? Will we improve as a society?

Keep Norton Buffalo in your Thoughts

2009-10-26T05:38:00.000-07:00

Norton Buffalo is one of the best harmonica players of my generation. He is an old Oakland CA boy, came into his musical prime in the 1970's and has recorded on his own and with many others (Steve Miller Band is his regular gig, and he has played with Bonnie Raitt and the Doobie Brothers). He is a major studio harmonica player and is on many movie soundtracks and commercials. Remember the awesome harmonica solo on Bonnie Raitt's version of "Runaway?" That is Norton Buffalo (I think he used 4-5 different harps on the tune, switching between them with lightning speed).

Norton was on the road with the Steve Miller Band all summer and felt crappy much of the time. His doctors thought he had pneumonia but they were wrong - he has lung cancer, Stage 4 Adenocarcinoma of the lower right lobe - and it has spread to his brain. He received his diagnosis in September and is going through the extreme challenge of trying to beat the disease. Please keep him in your thoughts. You can drop him a card, too - the address is:

Norton Buffalo & Lisa Flores
5905 D Clark Road
Paradise, CA 95969

There is going to be a benefit/fund raiser for Norton to cover medical expenses - I guess his health insurance situation is inadequate. If you can attend, do it. If you can't attend, consider buying a ticket anyway. Here is the info on the benefit:

Norton Buffalo Benefit //Tell the folks you know

Tickets for the first BENEFIT FOR NORTON BUFFALO at The Paradise Performing Arts Center ARE NOW AVAILABLE!!! CARLOS REYES and FRIENDS, TOM RIGNEY and FLAMBEAU, and ROY ROGERS & THE DELTA RHYTHM KINGS have agreed to play at Norton's request.

The benefit will be held Sunday evening November 22nd. Call Bill Anderson toll free 1-877-397-3363 (10am-4:30pm & 6pm-9pm) to order your tickets with a credit card, or you can call to reserve your tickets and send a check payable to PPAC to Bill Anderson, 6848U Skyway, Paradise, CA 95969. Tickets for Norton's benefit will be $40 General Admission. I will either mail the tickets to you or hold them for you at Will Call. Doors will open at 5:30pm, show starts at 6:30pm.

Looking forward to seeing all of Norton's friends at the show! For those who cannot attend but still want to support the benefit, donations may be sent to LISA FLORES, 5905D Clark Road, Paradise, CA 95969.

Tickets will also be available at Diamond W Western Wear in Chico, Country Touch, and Paradise Coin in Paradise, and at The Performing Arts Center starting next week. PPAC's box office is open 11am-3pm Monday-Friday.

Bill & Penny Anderson
6848U Skyway
Paradise, CA 95969
bill@paradisecoin.com

Norton is not yet 60 years old.

It seems especially horrible that a harmonica player should be afflicted with a lung disease - to play harmonica, one must breathe very deeply.

Get Well, Norton........

A Loss

2009-10-12T05:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't been writing many entries for this blog lately. There have been many other things consuming my time, and a blog is a self-indulgent exercise - as bad as Facebook and Twitter. Who cares what I think and what happens in my life? Very few people outside of my family.

But I thought I would indulge myself today.

About a year or so ago, my youngest daughter (now 13) managed to beg and wheedle her old man into letting her adopt a kitten, a stray that was abandoned at the front door of the local animal hospital. The kitten grew to be a spirited tomcat, named Smitty (pictured above). He had all of the characteristics that make cats admired and reviled - independent, graceful, predatory, curious, and vocal. Smitty noticed the great outdoors when he was a small kitten - he was determined to break free of the "big house." He would hide around the doors and bolt whenever someone came in or went out. We tried to keep him indoors, but he simply refused to stay. So we put an identity microchip into the scruff of his neck, got him a collar with a bell and let him be an outdoor cat. He was much happier, and would occassionally reward us by bringing home a dead mouse.

On Saturday at 7:30 AM, Smitty was yowling and the dogs were barking. All of them wanted out, so I opened the door to the back yard and let them go. Then I made coffee and turned my attention to the newspapers.

On Saturday at about 10:45 AM, our doorbell rang. A man was at the door, holding Smitty. The cat had ventured onto the busy street in front of our house and was hit by a car. We thought that Smitty shied away from the street - he had never been seen near traffic before. I knew immediately that he was gone, but I rushed him to the vet anyway. I didn't want my girls to see the him. So Smitty was crushed; I don't think he had much time to suffer. It was sad and weird to carry his body - limp and bleeding from the mouth. Smitty was all muscle and energy - where did it go?

My 13-year old daughter cried and cried. My 17-year old daughter wept as well, even though she didn't have much to do with Smitty. My wife was very sad also. And I, who don't really like cats that much and never wanted this cat, felt the loss as well. He was the first living thing I saw when I woke in the morning (I am the first one out of bed). He was the only other male in the house besides me. Smitty was a proud, aggressive tomcat.

Good-bye Smitty. I hope to see you on the other side (if there is an "other side".

Losses - Jesse Fortune and Others

2009-08-31T12:28:00.000-07:00

Jesse Fortune collapsed and died last night at Gene's Playmate Lounge, 4239 W. Cermak in Chicago. He was on stage, singing his heart out, and went down. He was 79 years old. There is something to celebrate here - a blues man living deep into his eighth decade, then passing while performing. If you have never seen Jesse perform live, you can see him on the Jimmy Burns Band DVD, "Live at B.L.U.E.S." He was a terrific blues singer, one of the greats. It is a painful loss.

We have had other serious losses recently - the legendary Les Paul, blues queen Koko Taylor, pianist Eddie Bo, human jukebox Snooks Eaglin, rockabilly great Billy Ray Riley...many of the greats that laid down the foundations of today's music have headed across the divide.

And now Ted Kennedy has joined them - not a musician, but a man with weaknesses, flaws and pain who achieved greatness in spite of (because of?) these features.

And we lost Tom Hebbard, the unfailingly cheerful and kind Viet Nam War veteran who worked the front desk during the night shift at the McGaw YMCA in Evanston. All of the early morning work-out people benefited from Tom's warm greetings and everyday concern (I am one of those early birds).

Mortality is the great leveler. We all will weaken and die.

The Mystery Band CD - Ugh!!

2009-08-05T18:47:00.001-07:00

Yep, I sweated quite a bit putting the first Mystery Band CD together. I financed it myself, no record company involved. I wrote all the songs so it wouldn't be another disk full of blues covers (not that there is anything WRONG with that; I just wanted something different). The final product is pretty good - I can still listen to it without puking, which is saying something in view of the number of hours I spent on this. I usually get tired of listening to a CD if I play it repeatedly. The CD got decent reviews in the May 2009 "Illinois Entertainer" and the July issue of "Blues Revue." I have been pitching it at all my gigs for the past several months.

And it ain't been selling, folks.

Yah, well, I haven't been working it real hard, I guess, and I haven't tried to get a label to pick it up. I have a day job, and I have to take care of my non-musical profession (it generates all the cash, and for the past two months, I have been humpin' trying to offset the recession with increased effort). But I have gained a deeper realization that making a living in music during this age of downloads and piracy is damn near impossible for a lunch-bucket musician like me. Folks under the age of 45 just don't buy CD's anymore. Many, maybe most, of them steal music. I have family members that are big-time music pirates. This bleeds over into live music, too - folks refuse to pay a cover charge, even a small one, to hear local music heroes. Soon, these working class musicians will stop trying.

Musicians will continue to make music, but the number of professionals has been shrinking and will continue to shrink. The level of techinical skills among musicians might decline. Talented people are giving up and this trend is likely to continue.

So I have about a thousand copies of this disk in my basement. Guess I can use them for drink costers.....but if anyone reading this is interested, you can find the record on CD Baby: http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/mrgthemystery

Micahel Jackson - RIP

2009-06-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

The media and the folks on the street are all focused on Michael Jackson's sudden death. With a comeback on the horizon, his death feels all the more tragic. The picture above captures Michael as I like to remember him - in his full regalia from the "Thriller" days of the early 1980's, holding a Grammy.

Sometimes success in popular music is not correlated with talent and energy. With Michael Jackson, that was not the case. He was a brilliant entertainer; he picked up where James Brown left off. His music made me feel that he was placed on this earth to bring us all joy.

He leaves behind an amazing body of work, and I am sad that he won't be able to add to it.

Good Bye, Koko

2009-06-03T16:42:00.000-07:00

It always hurts to say good bye to a giant talent. I had the good luck to see Koko perform in her prime. She made the earth move. I am very sad. Good-bye Koko. Here is the info from her web site:

“QUEEN OF THE BLUES” KOKO TAYLOR 1928 - 2009 posted: 06/03/2009
Grammy Award-winning blues legend Koko Taylor, 80, died on June 3, 2009 in her hometown of Chicago, IL, as a result of complications following her May 19 surgery to correct a gastrointestinal bleed. On May 7, 2009, the critically acclaimed Taylor, known worldwide as the “Queen of the Blues,” won her 29th Blues Music Award (for Traditional Female Blues Artist Of The Year), making her the recipient of more Blues Music Awards than any other artist. In 2004 she received the NEA National Heritage Fellowship Award, which is among the highest honors given to an American artist. Her most recent CD, 2007’s Old School, was nominated for a Grammy (eight of her nine Alligator albums were Grammy-nominated). She won a Grammy in 1984 for her guest appearance on the compilation album Blues Explosion on Atlantic.

Born Cora Walton on a sharecropper’s farm just outside Memphis, TN, on September 28, 1928, Koko, nicknamed for her love of chocolate, fell in love with music at an early age. Inspired by gospel music and WDIA blues disc jockeys B.B. King and Rufus Thomas, Taylor began belting the blues with her five brothers and sisters, accompanying themselves on their homemade instruments. In 1952, Taylor and her soon-to-be-husband, the late Robert “Pops” Taylor, traveled to Chicago with nothing but, in Koko’s words, “thirty-five cents and a box of Ritz Crackers.”

In Chicago, “Pops” worked for a packing company, and Koko cleaned houses. Together they frequented the city’s blues clubs nightly. Encouraged by her husband, Koko began to sit in with the city’s top blues bands, and soon she was in demand as a guest artist. One evening in 1962 Koko was approached by arranger/composer Willie Dixon. Overwhelmed by Koko’s performance, Dixon landed Koko a Chess Records recording contract, where he produced her several singles, two albums and penned her million-selling 1965 hit “Wang Dang Doodle,” which would become Taylor’s signature song.

After Chess Records was sold, Taylor found a home with the Chicago’s Alligator Records in 1975 and released the Grammy-nominated I Got What It Takes. She recorded eight more albums for Alligator between 1978 and 2007, received seven more Grammy nominations and made numerous guest appearances on various albums and tribute recordings. Koko appeared in the films Wild At Heart, Mercury Rising and Blues Brothers 2000. She performed on Late Night With David Letterman, Late Night With Conan O’Brien, CBS-TV’s This Morning, National Public Radio’s All Things Considered, CBS-TV’s Early Edition, and numerous regional television programs.

Over the course of her 40-plus-year career, Taylor received every award the blues world has to offer. On March 3, 1993, Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley honored Taylor with a “Legend Of The Year” Award and declared “Koko Taylor Day” throughout Chicago. In 1997, she was inducted into the Blues Foundation’s Hall of Fame. A year later, Chicago Magazine named her “Chicagoan Of The Year” and, in 1999, Taylor received the Blues Foundation’s Lifetime Achievement Award. In 2009 Taylor performed in Washington, D.C. at The Kennedy Center Honors honoring Morgan Freeman.Koko Taylor was one of very few women who found success in the male-dominated blues world. She took her music from the tiny clubs of Chicago’s South Side to concert halls and major festivals all over the world. She shared stages with every major blues star, including Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, B.B. King, Junior Wells and Buddy Guy as well as rock icons Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.

Taylor’s final performance was on May 7, 2009 in Memphis at the Blues Music Awards, where she sang “Wang Dang Doodle” after receiving her award for Traditional Blues Female Artist Of The Year.Survivors include Taylor’s husband Hays Harris, daughter Joyce Threatt, son-in-law Lee Threatt, grandchildren Lee, Jr. and Wendy, and three great-grandchildren. Funeral arrangements will be announced.

Quote of the Day

2009-05-28T07:23:00.001-07:00

"The source of the problem is really quite simple: Give smart people go-for-broke incentives and they will go for broke. Duh."

Alan S. Blinder, Professor of Economics, Princeton University

In my day job, I hob-nob with lots of financial types, including guys who invest and manage Other People's Money ("OPM"). Mr. Blinder has nailed it - when gains accrue to the gambler but losses are absorbed by others, it is rational to gamble like a drunken sailor, all day, every day. The Other People providing the Money have to step up and figure out a way to make the gamblers suffer the losses. That will do more to moderate booms and busts than all the regulations, past and future, that the government might dream up.

"Illinois Entertainer" Reviews "It's A Mystery" by Mr. G & the Mystery Band

2009-05-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

I picked up a copy of the May "Illinois Entertainer" yesterday and was pleased to see the that the publication wrote a reveiw of the Mystery Band's debut CD. I am grateful to Beverley Zeldon-Palmer for her attention to our work. By the way, folks - you can buy the Mystery Band CD at CD Baby the link is http://cdbaby.com/cd/mrgthemystery.

Here is the review:

Sweethome
By Beverley Zeldin-Palmer
Illinois Entertainer
May 2009

It’s A Mystery is the title of the debut solo CD by Mr. G and the Mystery Band, which is led by harp man/vocalist/songwriter Chris “Mr. G” Gillock. “Investment banker by day, musician by night” is how Gillock describes himself on his blog, “Mr. G’s Thoughts for Free.” The Mystery Band was born in an impromptu fashion when Gillock offered to put a group together and perform at Bill’s Blues in Evanston on Thanksgiving night in 2003. It has undergone a number of transitions since then, but the core of the band has coalesced around a group of stellar musicians the include guitarist Anthony Palmer (full disclosure: my husband), bassist Greg “E.G. McDaniel, guitarist OSee Anderson and drummer James Carter.

The original, concept of The Mystery Band was to bring Chicago’s finest blues musicians together to jam and have a good time. But you can’t keep a good band down. The sheer firepower of the band led to a local following at clubs like the Morseland in Chicago and C.J. Arthur’s in Wilmette. The logical step was to go into the studio, where “It’s A Mystery” was born.

Mr. G is the harp-playing vocalist, songwriter and impresario who holds it all together. He wrote the 11 tunes that comnprise the CD, featuring blues, funk, reggae and New Orleans soul. He is a cutting songwriter whose often humorous lyrics are reminiscent of musical satirist Tom Lehrer. On Get Out and Walk,” a folksy tune with a Sonny Terry-inspired harmonica opening, he addresses the high price of gas and a public that doesn’t have a clue: "Well, gas is $4.50 a gallon / Gonna cost a lot more soon / You’re complaining while your driving your big old Hummer / Hey Man! What the hell you doin’?/Get out and walk, ride a bike, get on the bus.” He bemoans being levied to death on the slow blues “Paying Taxes,” which features a fierce, in-the-basement guitar solo by Palmer. The title track is a Junior Wells-inspired groove that explores the mystery behind human behavior of all finds along the lines of “Why can’t we all just get along?” Anderson and Palmer wail on this one, complementing each other’s playing with their different but equally compelling blues approach. The rhythm section of McDaniel and Carter is solid through out, especially on the funky “My Dog and Me,” a semi-humorous song about the pain of divorce: “When I first met my wife, I thought she was so fine / But the longer I lived with that woman the more I loved my canine…../But now she’s gone and I must confess I feel dead inside.”

Despite the occasional foray into the serious, Mr. G and the Mystery Band are all about the fun. Their promo material should read, “For a good time, call….”

New Life

2009-04-26T11:59:00.000-07:00

This blog has been neglected for the past month. Unlike my other periods of inactivity, this time I have a decent excuse...my eldest daughter gave birth to my first grandchild, pictured above. Patrick Christopher arrived on April 8 at 4:35 AM Central. Hangin out with a new grandson is a great way to spend time.

I also squired my middle daughter around to colleges earlier this month - she is a junior in high school and that is the year when a teen's thoughts turn to the future. And today is my youngest daughter's 13th birthday party. Rounding out the story, my eldest just landed an awesome teaching job in New Mexico (quite a feat for my son in the midst of this recession). Oh, and he is getting married in a few weeks.

The small stories of family life are what sustain and occupy us all. Economic calamity, swine flu pandemics and the deaths of great people (Bud Shank, jazz saxophonist, April 6, 2009 RIP; Steve Raitt, musician, soundman supreme and elder brother of Bonnie Raitt, April 6, 2009, RIP, and on and on) may distract and depress - the household stuff continues and carries us forward.

So here is to little Pat Chris - I am grateful to be able to rest my eyes on the first face of the next generation of my clan. He seems to like it when I play the harmonica for him......already humoring the ol' grandpa.

Bernard "Pretty" Purdie - Great NYT Ink

2009-03-31T15:10:00.000-07:00

Bernard "Pretty" Purdie got some well-deserved press today in the New York Times. Here is a link to the article. I had the honor of meeting Pretty Purdie in New York several years back. I was attending a meeting/party that was hosted by Wade Schuman, harmonicist and front man for HazMat Modine; Mr. Purdie was in HazMat Modine at that time if I remember correctly. He was a delightful guy, very warm and cheerful. Of course, he is the grandmaster of funk drumming and he has played on over 4,000 records including some huge hits. Pretty was working the high-hat on "Theme from Shaft" by the late, great Isaac Hayes. He was playing the drums on James Brown's "Cold Sweat." He was adding his incredible syncopation to Steely Dan's "Aja." He helped out Aretha on "RESPECT." And he also backed cats like Lou Donaldson, Miles Davis, Marvin Gaye and Paul Simon.

Yes, I think this is my favorite drummer.

Daryl Coutts Band at the Blue Bayou - 3/27/09

2009-03-28T14:09:00.000-07:00

Daryl Coutts is one of my good friends and he often plays keyboards in my band. As an immensely talented musician, singer and keyboardist, he has several projects going on simultaneously. One of his projects is the Daryl Coutts Band, a blues/R&B/rock band that plays around the Chicago area. I trekked over to the north side of Chicago to the Blue Bayou (a New Orleans-themed joint across from the Music Box Theater on Southport) to catch his gig last night.

Daryl had his 88-key Nord keyboard, a big, red monster with lots of buttons and such on the console above the keys. He also had his Leslie speaker cranking last night, so the Nord could sound like a big ol' Hammond B3. This unit also has a clavinet feature, phlanges and lots of other bells and whistles. Daryl knows how to use all of them, but he also went with an unadorned piano sound on many tunes. Daryl will always choose to play an acoustic piano if he has a choice.

The band hit some of the classic Chicago blues standards (Killing Floor Blues, Feel So Bad, Shake Your Moneymaker, etc.) but also played some very tasty funk (Out-a-Space - a great instrumental). Daryl's band was full of killers and everyone was right in the pocket all night.

Scott Tipping was handling the guitar - this was my first chance to hear Scott play. He has lots of chops, but he doesn't over-play (most Chicago guitar players with technical prowess feel compelled to shred all night). I especially liked the way Scott threw in horn-like riffs behind Daryl's solos. This guitarist also adds an interesting visual dimension to the band - he is solidly-built, bearded and looks like he just stepped out of a tractor-trailer rig. Scott also has a great voice and sang several tunes.

Roger Femali was handling the percussion duties and his time was impeccable. He has mastered a broad range of beats and was tightly attuned to his bandmates - never stepped on anyone. Roger is also an interesting-looking person - shaved head, an earing in each ear - sort of a "Mr. Clean" persona.

Roberto Agosto plays a 5-string bass and can lay down some very tricky, yet tasty, bass lines. He really was impressive when the band shifted into funk mode. Roberto and Roger are joined at the hip - a terrifc rhythm section.

This is an outstanding band worthy of support. They had a very small crowd at the Blue Bayou last night - I was surprised. Wrigleyville/Lakeview is full of party people. I guess they are pinching pennies along with the rest of us in the crappy economy. The Blue Bayou is a nice venue, and they don't even charge a cover, so it seems like a pretty inexpensive entertainment option to me. Get out there and support your local musicians, folks!

Fun Facts to Know and Tell

2009-03-27T07:25:00.000-07:00

As a semi-dedicated oenophile, this day marks an important anniversary for me. On this day in 1860, a device which, officially, was called a “covered gimlet screw with a ‘T' handle” (aka "a corkscrew"),was patented by M. L. Byrn of New York City.

Today is also the birthday of Sarah Vaughn, aka The Sassy One, aka The Divine One. She was and is my favorite female jazz vocalist, and she would have been 85 years old today if she was still alive. Sarah started here professional career after winning an amateur contest at New York's Apollo Theater in 1943.

And here is the most incedible Fun Fact of all - In the past six years, according to the Bank for International Settlements, the global financial derivatives market exploded as a global haven for speculative investment - growing from $127 Trillion in 2002 to $684 Trillion in 2008! And the Fun Fact about this - in 2008, financial obligations amounting to 12 times the ENTIRE WORLD'S GROSS DOMESTIC PRODUCT were written and traded and re-traded among financial institutions. When the music stops (like now), that is a whole lotta leverage that needs to come out of the system. No wonder the world is shakin' and bakin'!!

This last Fun Fact makes me want a nice tall glass of Bordeaux.

Working

2009-03-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

Some days buzz by due to frenetic activities and excitement. Other days remind me of the old country song, "If the Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know Its Me." This has been a no-connection day. Every call I made failed to connect with the intended party; the incoming calls were not helpful. I turned to the backlog of reading and such; made a dent in the pile. The best news of the day was an incoming wire transfer - a client paid his bill (something that can't be taken for granted in this stinking economy).

So I learned a new trendy term today - "pessimism porn." This phrase refers to the dire predictions put forth by seemingly credible people, usually on the Internet, about the coming meltdown/apocolypse/end of western civilization. Reading these accounts can generate a guilty thrill for the reader - and it can become addicting. The media amplifies pessimism porn; half-baked theories get repeated until they enter the nation's collection of accepted wisdom. And pessimism porn also fuels the mob psychology - "the media and the government said that bankers are evil, so I think I will through a rock through the local banker's window." It is hard to see this as a path forward.

In its effort to connect with the majority, the new administration seems to be willing to add to the supply of bile and anger that has built up over this whole "Ponzie economy." A few powerful executives didn't create the problem, in spite of what Congress has been saying. It was a massive shared delusion that led to this, amplified by financial institutions and fueled by the human desire of many Americans to satisfy short-term gratification. If you want the big house, you were able to borrow 100% of the price at a "teaser" rate. "I will worry about the increase in rate and payments later - hey, I can always sell the house for more than I paid for it, right?" This was crazy thinking.

So the thing to do is to start working again. Stop searching for people to tar and feather. Get on the phone and make things happen. Look forward. This, too, shall pass.

Another Living Musician I Love- Shuggie Otis

2009-03-25T19:03:00.000-07:00

Shuggie Otis is one of those musicians that other musicians know about. He hit the scene at fifteen years of age. His background was quite unusual. His father is Johnny Otis, a Greek-American musician who decided to live in the African-American community. Johnny made this decision in the 1940's when it was definitely an unusual path for a white guy to take - and he married a black woman (illegal in many states at that time). I can (and will) spill about Johnny Otis because his story is crazy and amazing. But let's stick to his boy, Shuggie, for now.

As a teenager, Shuggie was acknowledged as a guitar phenom, mentioned by some in the same breath as Jimi Hendrix and B.B. King. But he wasn't satisfied to be just a guitarist - he mastered bass, keyboards, drums and vibraphone. He also became a gifted writer and arranger. Shuggie started playing professionally at the age of 12, using disguises to appear older (phony beards & moustaches, dark glasses, hats, elevator shoes, etc.) so he could get into nightclubs. When he was 15, he was drafted by Al Kooper to be part of the second "Super Session" album (this was Kooper's project after he founded Blood Sweat & Tears and completed the first album). Shuggie released his first album as a leader in 1970, called Here Comes Shuggie Otis - he was around 17 at the time. In 1971, he released "Freedon Flight," an album that was way ahead of its time - and in 1974, he released "Inspiration Information," his masterpiece. And that was really it - he started to fade as a bandleader/solo artist and and basically disapeared by 1980. He is still alive and well, hip hop artists and others are covering his fanastic tunes (remember Strawberry Letter 23 by Brothers Johnson? That is Shuggie's tune).

Sly Stone, Stevie Wonder, Prince and other trippy/funky/soulful genre-mixers owe a lot to Shuggie Otis. I often think that Prince deliberately copped all of Shuggie's shit. The Rolling Stones tried to hire this guy in the mid-70's, but he said "no, thanks" because he figured he was going to rock the world on his own. Things didn't turn out that way, but his music stands the test of time - still sounding exciting and fresh 35 years after it was recorded. Shuggie used drum machines in the early 1970's; he played almost all of the instruments on his albums, he incorporated jazz, blues, rock and R&B. It still is wickedly great stuff.

I think Shuggie Otis is still living in Northern California. He records on occassion and has played a few concerts. While he missed stardom and celebrity, he also missed the drugged-out evil scene, so he is alive when many other pop stars died before they reached 50.

Lester Davenport - Another Harp Man Done Gone

2009-03-24T06:59:00.000-07:00

Lester "Mad Dog" Davenport died last Tuesday - I missed the news because I was in New York. Lester was one of the best harmonica cats in Chicago, and he had brushes with fame. None of those brushes led to riches, unfortunately, but he did play on some of Bo Diddley's hit records when he was a young man. Bob Corritorre sent out this remembrance of Lester last night:

March 23, 2009
RIP Lester Davenport 1/16/1932-3/17/2009: Word has just come in from Kevin Johnson of Delmark Records that Chicago blues harmonica great Lester "Mad Dog" Davenport passed away on Tuesday, March 17, 2009, after a long battle with prostate cancer. He was a respected figure in Chicago blues, best known for his stunning harp work on Bo Diddley's 1955 recordings of "Pretty Thing" and "Bring It To Jerome". Lester Davenport was born in Tchula, Mississippi on January 16, 1932, and moved to Chicago at age 14. Lester soon found work as a blues harmonica player working with Arthur "Big Boy" Spires and Homesick James before landing a gig with Bo Diddley that led to the famous recording session and a gig at the Apollo Theater. In addition to harmonica, Lester also played bass, drums, and guitar, which ensured him lots of work in the active Chicago blues scene. During the 1970s, he worked with W.W. Williams, Kansas City Red, Illinois Slim, Steve Cushing, Tchula childhood friend Jimmy Dawkins, and many others. In the 1980s he toured extensively with Big Daddy Kinsey & The Kinsey Report. Lester Davenport's career yielded 2 beautiful CDs: When The Blues Hit You on Earwig Music (1993) and I Smell A Rat on Delmark (2002). He also had a couple songs released on an anthology called It's Great To Be Rich on the Red Lightnin' label, and a song on Chicago Blues Harmonica, an anthology on the Wolf Record label. Lester's recording credits as a sideman are extensive: Bo Diddley for Chess records, Big Smokey Smothers for Red Lightnin', Willie Johnson, Maxwell Street Jimmy Davis, Johnny B. Moore for Wolf Records, Big Smokey Smothers, Big John Trice for Red Lightnin', Aron Burton on Earwig, and Bonnie Lee and Willie Kent for Delmark. Aside from all of these great credentials, Lester was just a wonderful man who was eager to welcome new friends and share his harmonica secrets to aspiring players. He had a warm smile and the ability to add humor to any situation. His harmonica playing will be remembered for its glorious, sweet tone and perfect phrasing. Though he never achieved great fame, he will always be remembered as one of the greats. Funeral services will be this Saturday, March 28, 2009, 10am to 12pm, at A.R. Leak Funeral Home, 5000 W. Madison, Chicago, IL 60644.

Hard Times = Music Lessons

2009-03-23T10:12:00.000-07:00

The recession is deepening. Pink slips are abundant. Unemployment levels are headed north. This year is gonna suck, and 2010 might suck, too. What ever shall we do?

I know - take a music class!

I heard that the March 1 class session at the Old Town School of Folk Music (which isn't just about folk music, by the way) had record enrollment. I guess this is one of those "hard times" activities - learn how to play guitar, join a singing group, find an artistic outlet with like-minded folks. I also suspect that unemployed people with time on their hands are using a piece of their unemployment checks for musical education. Joining a community and picking up a new skill helps the psyche that is bruised and battered by a nasty economy. The world might end up a little more musical. Downturns do have upsides.

Rebel Alliance Jazz Ensemble in Dallas - Follow Up

2009-03-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

Sounds like tonights show at Pearl at Commerce is going to be very HOT! Wish I could be there. If any of my readers are in Dallas, you should head down to the Pearl tonight.

I just got this message from the leader of the Rebel Alliance Jazz Ensemble in Dallas:

Hey Mr. G,

Thanks for the kind words in your blog! We do appreciate that--wish you were here with us tonight. We're doing an unofficial Maynard Ferguson tribute with the big band. Even have Maynard's lead trumpet and drummer sitting in with us! Plus Jaco Pastorius' tenor sax!

Pretty awesome!

Until next time,

Chris Evetts
RAJE

Rebel Alliance Jazz Ensemble - Dallas TX

2009-03-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

I was in Dallas early last week and was at loose ends after dinner. After a little research, I discovered that there is now a music bar (blues and jazz) in downtown Dallas. Well! This is very good news! It is called the Pearl At Commerce (because it is on Pearl St. at its intersection with Commerce). And it was walking distance from my hotel! Yay!

I strolled on over and had a seat in a very attractive space - great bar, decent stage and sound system. I ordered a "Bail-out beer" (The $1.00 special, a local brew called Pearl Lite) and settled in for some tunes. The entertainment was the Rebel Alliance Jazz Ensemble (see picture above). This group has two versions - the full big band ,which is the subject of the above picture, and an octet. I caught the octet - trumpet, trombone, two saxes and a four-man rhythm section. Every musician in the band was a monster. Many were grads of North Texas University (the school in Denton TX known for its outstanding jazz program). Two of the musicians are band leaders at local high schools, the trumpet player is a locksmith. I am always amazed at the talent that lurks among us in almost every big city.

The RAJE was laying down standards - "In a Mellow Tone," "Two-o'clock Jump," "New York, New York" and so forth. The crowd was sparse during the first set, but grew during the second set - it wasn't horrible for a Tuesday night. The guys in the band obviously weren't going to make any money - this was all about love of music. They were very tight and in tune; the solos ranged from good to mind-boggling. The locksmith trumpeter had impressive range and was nailing those high notes clearly and with great authority. The leader of the group played alto sax, baritone sax and clarinet. He was the master of all three instruments.

Yes, a very nice club and an excellent band. It was a great surprise for a weary traveler.

Tower of Power - I am just a fan...

2009-03-12T03:21:00.000-07:00

Here is a great picture of the early 1970's version of Tower of Power. This band had a huge impact on me when I was an impressionable young trombone player. They are still very active - as a matter of fact, they will be playing at the Horseshoe Casino in Hammond IN next month (Hell, I might go see 'em even though it is on a Thursday night).

TOP took James Brown grooves and added a little more melody and complexity. The famous TOP horn section invented a new approach to funk licks - staccato, man! They would just spit that shit out. BATTA BOP. And the Funky Doctor on that bari sax was (and is) a force of nature. Out of the folks that passed through the band, the most famous might be Lenny Pickett, the sax freak that leads the Saturday Night Live band in New York. I can remember seeing the guys live in 1974 at the Keystone in Berkeley. This was not a huge venue - it could hold 200 or so comfortably - but the night I was there I think there were 400 people jammed in. Folks were smashed together and bopped up and down in a mass to the acid funk of TOP. Stunning experience. Lenny Pickett was wearing a white tuxedo and was dancing frenetically the entire night (he danced while he was playing, he danced even harder when he wasn't playing). I still listen to their classic tunes - "Down to the Night Club," "What is Hip," "Soul Vaccination," "Sparkling in the Sand," "The Skunk, the Goose and the Fly."

I last heard TOP at a concert in the Chicago area several years ago - they were the opening act for Ray Charles. The horn section was still kicking it, but the lead vocalist had more of an arena rock style - I wanted Rick Stevens and Lenny Williams. I still enjoyed the show, but it wasn't quite the same.

Some people might say that TOP hasn't done a thing that James Brown didn't do first (and did better). That is a defensible position. But TOP at its best is a crazy tight outfit that knows how to bring the funk. I am, and always be, a fan.

The Morse Theater - Paris DeLane does the "last show"

2009-03-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

So the Morse Theater's current management team managed their last show last Saturday night. I stopped by to check it out. There was a definite "wake" feeling among the staff, but the folks that showed up to hear Paris Delane seemed mostly oblivious to the sub-text. Paris was full of energy, and he does have a most impressive voice - basso profundo, but with a very wide range (his falsetto is excellent). Paris also can do many parlor tricks - he can do a spot-on Macy Gray impression that is pretty funny. I have been hearing about Paris for years and I have enjoyed some of Sonia Dada's stuff (Paris was a member of this jam band for some time). I was really excited to see the man perform, at last. But I have to say, I wasn't feeling the show on Saturday. The rhythm section sounded a little mushy, the arrangements were a little sloppy and the guest artists broke the flow of the set. It was a pretty big band - four horns, three percussionists, three guitarists (including Paris) and bass. Maybe there were just too many folks. Paris is awesome and he has a huge personality - and crowd was in fanboy heaven. I think there must be something wrong with me - I couldn't catch the love thing at all.

There have been news reports that the Morse will re-open soon under new management. I learned that the "silent partner" that put up the bucks to re-build the old theater is a member of one of the wealthiest families in the world. Andy McGhee, his son and his partner will get bought out, I suppose, and the money folks will bring in their own team. It is a shame, but it would be a bigger shame if the place shut down for good.

Stayin' In and Catching Up

2009-02-28T21:34:00.000-08:00

It is a chilly Saturday night in Chicagoland, the last day of February. The Mystery Band had no gig this evening. I thought about hitting the clubs to hear some of my buddies play, but my energy failed me - I stayed home with my girls and my dogs (the picture above is a demon-eyed version of Jenna and Brandy, the house canines). There was a big pile of mail that I ignored all week; it is now processed and dealt with. I got on YouTube and called up President Obama's February 24th speech to Congress, which I was too busy to watch live. Whooooo! That dude sure can speechify. I bought a big 120 gig iPod to replace the one that was lost/stolen at the Evanston YMCA. It took a long time to synch the 10,000 songs in my library to the new device. Now I am enjoying Nina Simone in my earbuds. I paid bills. I started getting my 2008 tax return organized. I had a couple of adult beverages. I practiced on my E-flat chromatic harmonica. I basically stayed in and fiddled around. Now it is almost midnight and I am ready to sleep.

I feel schizophrenic. On a personal level, I feel pretty optimistic. There is no discernible disaster lurking. My day job is OK because my little company is nimble and we are finding ways to make money in spite of the economic crisis. But then I read the papers, or talk to my friends that work at big companies, or listen to the news and I feel pretty pessimistic. This economy hasn't hit bottom yet. The massive debt reduction that is going on ("de-levering" is the business buzz word) is unlike anything we have seem in well over a generation. The savings rate of the average American is moving quickly from negative 1% to positive 10% (10% was close to the average in the 1960's through the mid-1980's). This process will mean a whole lotta pain - less spending, more debt defaults, higher unemployment. But the only way out of this is through it.

As I said earlier, I am ready to sleep. Goodnight.

A Different 17th Birthday Party

2009-02-22T17:24:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is a photo of a young Dakota Fanning. I didn't know much about her, being a cretin when it comes to topical, current culture and movies. But my wonderful teenage duaghter asked for a different present for her 17th birthday - she asked me to watch the entire 10-episode "Taken" series with her that aired on the SciFi channel back in 2002. Each episode lasted about 90 minutes, so we are talking 15 hours of viewing time. In one day. By a guy who generally doesn't watch TV or go to the movies. But it was what my wonderful daughter wanted, and it was not a costly present.

It was a challenge.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this mini-series, "Taken" tells a tale about alien abductions and related hoo-hah dating from 1947 through 2002. The stories have a certain amount of cleverness, and there is some pretty good acting (young Dakota was quite good, actually). The decent acting masked the extreme improbablility of the premise and the questionable motivation of the key characters. This is not great cinema, and it is not even good TV. Steven Spielberg produced it. This is not Spielberg's best work, that's for sure. I did like watching the little grey men, though.

I also learned that you can get a hangover from too much television viewing. We did 12 hours on Saturday and quit at 1:00 a.m.when my headache and deep fatigue forced a halt. I woke up this morning feeling like I had drank a fifth of whiskey even though I hadn't touched a drop. We finished the series today at 1:30 PM. So in one weekend, I spent as much time in front of a TV as I normally would in nine months or so.

So happy birthday to my marvelous teenager, and thanks for a very different 17th birthday party.

Quote of the day

2009-02-17T10:59:00.000-08:00

"I am an eternal optimist. That doesn't mean I am a sap."

Barrack Obama, 44th President of the United States of America.

Morse Theater - Bad News

2009-02-13T04:47:00.001-08:00

I opened the Chicago Tribune today and read bad news about the Morse - a dispute between the operators and the "silent partner" who funded much of the construction of the place is headed to court. The venue may close soon. I am hoping that this can be resolved so the Morse will at least have a chance to succeed. Andy McGhee, the main operator, has poured his heart into this project. Here is the Tribune article.

This place is such a gem. Over $6 million was spent to bring this venue to life. It would be a shame if it all fell down over a legal dispute.

The Mystery Band CD Is Out!!!

2009-02-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

It took 10 months, but the first CD by Mr. G and the Mystery Band is finished, packaged, manufactured and ready for consumption. It is on CD Baby - click here for the link. The CD will be available on iTunes in a couple of weeks or so.

All the tunes on this disc are originals so you can blame the whole thing on me. I have lots of copies of this CD in my basement, so help me clear them out.

The Morse Theater, Chicago IL

2009-02-09T12:04:00.001-08:00

The two pictures above represent the present and the past of the Morse Theater on Chicago's far north side. Opened in 1912 as a nicklelodeon, the Morse has gone through many incarnations - a furniture warehouse, an independent cinema house (with air conditioning!), a synagogue and an abandoned wreck. I got to know the building during its sad years as a deteriorating, unoccupied space. The Morse was empty for thirty years. Now, the place is a bright and shiny state-of-the-art new music venue - an unbelievable change, really. And this change happened due to the dreams of three guys - Andy McGhee, Willam Kerpan and Devin McGhee (Andy's son).

I have a feeling that these three did not conduct a scientific consumer demand study prior to launching this project. It is driven by heart and soul, not flinty-eyed calculation. This venue is very musician-friendly (Mr. G and the Mystery Band got to play there on January 31, so I was able to experience the joy of a top-knotch venue with dedicated, attentive professionals in charge of the operation), I know Andy McGhee pretty well, and i think he is inspired by a deep love of music and an equally deep love of the East Rogers Park neighborhood. The trio behind the Morse went through hell to get the joint open - zoning hassles, construction delays and even an arson. The least we Chicago area folks can do is get out and support this marvelous place

You can check out the Morse Theater's schedule and story here.

The Passing of an Obscure Harmonica Player

2009-01-22T17:32:00.000-08:00

I was emailed a link to the obituary of a gent who made it to the ripe old age of 98. He sounds like a terrific person, and he understood the comic power of the harmonica. Here is his story:

ATLANTA: Henry Leff, 98, played harmonica
By Holly Crenshaw The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Thursday, January 22, 2009

Wherever Henry Leff went, his harmonica went with him -- tucked into a pocket, ready to amuse. His repertoire consisted mostly of tunes from the 1930s and '40s. But one of his favorite songs to play was "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," a nod to his days as a batboy for the Atlanta Crackers.

Mr. Leff, 98, of Atlanta died Jan. 14 at Hospice Atlanta. A graveside service was held at Greenwood Cemetery. Dressler's Jewish Funeral Care was in charge of arrangements. The Atlanta native lived independently and was still working until two weeks before his death. For years, he cared for his wife, Ida Leff, until she died of complications from Alzheimer's disease in 1996. He would take her to the Weinstein Center to join in activities, then stick around to entertain folks with a few harmonica tunes.

Mr. Leff sold advertising promotional items -- calendars, notebooks, pens, letter openers and the like -- to businesses. Some customers stayed with him for 40 years. He was an optimistic soul and a creature of habit, said his grandson Scott Butler of Marietta. Mr. Leff lived in the same house for 55 years and drove nothing but Chevrolets. He was a regular at the Colonnade restaurant and a loyal member of Congregation Shearith Israel. On Sundays, he'd go to his local pancake house and order exactly the same breakfast -- half an omelet and a cup of coffee -- week after week.

On every anniversary and every holiday, he sent greeting cards to his loved ones. And every year on their birthday, they'd pick up the phone and "all you would hear is the harmonica playing 'Happy Birthday,' " his grandson said.

Additional survivors include two daughters, Eleanor Schwartz of Louisville, Ky., and Nancy Minkoff of Atlanta; a son, Frank Leff of Atlanta; five other grandchildren; and eight great-grandchildren.

Henry, you sound like you were a true mentsh. Sorry we never met.

Winter in Chicago

2009-01-19T06:40:00.000-08:00

It is "survival of the fittest" weather. It is popsicle toes weather. It is weather suited for stoics and masochists. The temperature dropped to way below zero; now a high of 19 degrees sounds toasty. I spent a few moments staring out my kitchen window this morning, contemplating bare branches, mounds of snow and hyperactive squirrels in my back yard. It is nine degrees on MLK Day and all eyes are on Washington D.C with the run-up to the inauguration of President-Elect Barack Obama. Dr. King would have been 80 years old today.

I stay away from political commentary and social observations on this blog - it is mostly about blues music and such. But I have to say that this is an amazing, unsettling time. Mr. Obama is a breakthrough figure, taking on the top job in a country facing incredible stress. He gives us hope, but as the old saying goes, "Hope is not a strategy." Buena suerte, Senor Obama.

My wife tells me that I have a negative attitude and she is absolutely right. It is winter in Chicago, the financial system continues to melt down, the Mideast is in flames and the Bears missed the playoffs.

Here is my best shot at thinking positive - things are definitely going to get better someday. And I think Barack Obama has a good shot at leading us to that better day.

Popping into the Jams

2009-01-06T20:08:00.000-08:00

I have behaved like a butterfly the past few days. On Saturday, I chased down my buddy, keyboardist Daryl Coutts, at Joey's Brickhouse (on Belmont). DC and his trio sounded good, and I sat around long enough to get an invitation to play. I played one tune and split. On Monday (Jan 5), I stopped by Bill's Blues Bar to check out Paul Doppelt's jam. It was cool, and Daryl Coutts was there, too! Dave Herrero was playing tunes off his new CD, and he sounded great! I played one tune, then split. Tonight, I headed back to Bill's Blues for Tom Crivelone's blues jam. It was rockin'! I played one tune with Tom & split. I can't stay up to late now that I am old and have a day job.

Hitting these scenes and playing one tune is like hitting a bar for a quick shot of whiskey. It is a good thing, but not enough. I feel so lucky to have friends that will let me sit in on short notice.

Four days in...and Belated Farewell to Freddie

2009-01-04T15:06:00.000-08:00

It is four days into the New Year, and I am one week late in bidding farewell to the great Freddie Hubbard. Freddie is one of the few jazz superstars I had an opportunity to know, slightly. He was the featured artist at the University of California - Berkeley's Collegiate Jazz Festival back in the mid-1970's, and I was in the trombone section of the UC-Berkeley Jazz Ensemble at that time. The picture above (swiped from my old UC-Jazz Ensemble colleague, Les Golden) shows Freddie with UCJE director Dr. David Tucker. Dr. Tucker passed in 2003 (RIP).

I remember Freddie as a gracious genius. He was kind to the white college punks that were struggling to learn the arrangements for the concert in a compressed time frame. The performance was a success, and we filled the large auditorium on campus that night. It was very exciting for a wanabee jazz guy, which is what I was back then.

Freddie played with passion and power. When he was at the peak of his talent, he was the top trumpet player in the world. I thought he beat the hell out of Miles in the 1970's, and he was more contemporary that Dizzy. It seemed the Freddie was playing with every major luminary in jazz - Coltrane, Eric Dolphy, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Oliver Nelson, etc. etc. Shortly after he played at the UC Jazz Festival, he formed the great VSOP quintet with Hancock, Shorter, Tony williams on drums and Ron Carter on bass (the same group that was on the great Miles Davis records of the 1960's). The VSOP records are truly awesome.

Unfortunately, Freddie damaged his chops in 1992 and was never the same player after that. But his compositions have entered the list of jazz standards - "Red Clay" and "Little Sunflower" are two that jump to mind immediately.

So I have been feeling kind of bummed the past few days as I have reflected on the Freddie Hubbard's death. He was 70 years old, which doesn't sound that aged to me now that I am trudging through middle age. Freddie had some high points, but his star faded at the end. He was a giant, and a gentleman. Farewell, Freddie.

End Page - 2008

2008-12-31T17:10:00.000-08:00

Most people that hit middle age have had their share of New Year's Eve experiences where they ended up like the fellow pictured above. Tonight, I will not be in this condition.

I am still in Mexico with my family (or "my ladies" as I like to call them). They are not big party/night life people. The resort is having a massive blow-out party down on the beach - they have set up a restaurant, bar, bandstand and dance floor down there. The cost is 850 peso per person - about $65. That isn't a ridiculous price tag, but I couldn't get any takers among my ladies. We are going to have a quiet evening - well, as quiet as possible since there will be hundreds of party people on the property all night.

Since I have been at leisure the past few days, I had time to read and listen to music on the iPod. I am almost finished with my 6th book. My favorite of the six was the 1990 novel by Kurt Vonnegut, "Hocus Pocus." I somehow missed this book when it was originally published. Vonnegut is in top form, weaving multiple story lines and a large cast of characters into his satirical, cynical look at late 20th Century America. Best line: "The two prime movers in the universe are time and luck." This is a thought worth pondering as we enter a new year.

On the iPod, I have gone back into my library of tunes by the two Chicago blues harmonica greats Little Walter Jacobs ("LW") and Big Walter Horton ("BW"). I could write pages on each of these musicians. Only fellow harmonica-playing geeks like me would want to read it. LW didn't invent the Chicago blues harmonica sound (John Lee "Sonny Boy" Williamson gets the nod on that score), but he expanded it, changed it, invented musical techniques never used before, and continues to influence anyone who picks up the tin sandwich. BW is equally awesome, but he is about tone and rhythm.

A final note - remember New Year's Eve 1999? The Y2K freak-out? What a scam. On that New Year's Eve, my wife and young children braved the snow and rode in a horse-drawn wagon through the streets of Evanston IL. We ended up at a party in a seafood restaurant, dancing with our friends and neighbors until the wee small hours to tunes spun by a DJ that we knew well - he was the adult son of our next door neighbors. Now that was a good time.

Happy 2009.

Ending the Year Feeling Warm

2008-12-29T15:20:00.000-08:00

I thought that I was done posting blog entries for the year, but I am waiting for one of my womenfolk to finish in the shower - down time.

We have escaped to Puerto Vallarta and the weather is a complete relief after the first blasts of what looks to be a wiched Chicago winter. Everything is terrific, except we all got sick yesterday - that miserable gastritis stuff that I won't describe in detail, but you know what I mean. So we were up all night and in misery until we finally dug out a doctor on Sunday to prescibe us the meds to end the insanity. We got on the pills last night. We are better today.

My wife is a native Spanish speaker, so we do well on our trips to Mexico. My family occassionally travesl to San Luis Potosi', which is where my wife's Mexican family lives. SLP is a very large village that is still mainstream Mexican. Puerto Vallarta is a vacation mecca that feels much llke other resort areas. There are many wealthy Mexicans in our hotel, but scads of Americans and a smattering of Europeans and Canadians. It's nice, but it isn't mainstream Mexico.

Since my wife is bilingual, she ends up acting as our family "mouthpiece" and interpreter. I feel guilty about this. I should be a fluent Spanish speaker, but I can't really communicate much in Spanish - I can order food at a restaurant and know several random words. Once we get into full sentences and such, I am dead meat. I resolve every year to become conversational in Spanish. So far, I haven't done it. It will be on my 2009 resolution list (again).

Iguanas are all over this resort - they are like squirrels in Chicago. A lean and lanky specimen jumped into the kiddie pool this morning, generating quite a lot of excitement for the kiddies and horror for their parental units. Bah! It was harmless, and very entertaining. Iguanas are very good swimmers. One of the staffers fished him out with the pool net. I was sorry to see him go.

Time to leave - the shower time is over.

Christmas Eve/2008 Wind Down

2008-12-24T19:42:00.001-08:00

Heh, heh....Merry Christmas. The weather has been very evil here is Chicago. We had a goodly amount of snow this month, then temps dived to 8 below, then we had more snow and temps got above freezing, turning the snow to slush. Now we are back down in the teens and the neighborhood is a vast ice skating rink. It is "survival of the fittest" weather.

I just said goodbye to my pregnant daughter and son-in-law. We had a very nice British Christmas Eve meal - roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roasted root veggies and apple pie with ice cream. I am quite full, facing a kitchen full of dirty dishes.

On December 19, the Mystery Band had its last gig of the year at C.J Arthurs in Wilmette IL. We did not fill the house - the weather was awful - but the music was magical. In the words of my guitar player, The Fret-burner, "When we make the music right, it is better than an orgasm." True words. We had to recruit a drummer at the last minute, Brian T. Brian plays with Koko Taylor; he was in the horrific auto crash that injured Koko's entire band last summer. Brian is still limping; can't put his full weight on his leg (it was severely fractured in the wreck). Brian is a monster drummer, bad leg or no bad leg. Darryl Coutts sat in on keyboards, so the Mystery Band had a lush, exciting sound. It was a great way to end our year of performances. Too bad we didn't have a couple hundred people in the audience.

This past year was very unusual. The U.S. elected an African American president - and a liberal, to boot! The credit markets locked up and the world has plunged into a "Great Recession." Like many people, I am much less wealthy than I was a year ago. But I really don't care that much - easy come, easy go, right? I am heading south for a few days to defrost and won't be back in the frozen U.S. heartland until New Years Day. So Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanzaa and Happy New Year. I will be back atcha in 2009.

Bobby Broom Trio at Pete Miller's Steakhouse

2008-12-12T12:15:00.000-08:00

This past Wednesday night, I was a little bored and restless. After the family dinner and kitchen clean-up, I headed out to find some music. I went to Pete Miller's Steakhouse in downtown Evanston IL. Pete Miller's is the classic expensive steak and potatoes dinner house, with a collection of fancy single malt scotches, etc. etc. This restaurant format is very popular in the U.S. The portions are huge. No wonder Americans are so chubby. But Pete Miller's has also embraced live jazz, and on Wednesdays, you can listen to the Bobby Broom Trio - NO COVER!!! This is wild - Bobby is among the finest jazz guitarists in the world - I mean, WAAAAAY up there, with George Benson and John Pizarelli. He is in the Sonny Rollins band, fercyinoutloud! And every Wednesday, he plays to a sparse house in a suburb where people are too busy stuffing their pieholes and swilling liquor to pay attention to his amazing gifts.

Bobby opened his set with a wicked, hard-swinging cover of the Beatles tune "Can't Buy Me Love;" and the music just got better from there. I didn't catch the names of his bandmates, but they were as passionate about the music as Bobby. I had to move right in front of the bandstand to hear because there were a bunch of drunken braying donkeys hanging off the bar creating a wall of noise.

Bobby Broom has an amazing life story, which is described in detail on his web site. He has been playing professionally since he was 16 years old; he spent many years playing in Dr. John's band and then he decided to settle in Chicago. We are very lucky to have this guy in our town - he is the Michael Jordan of the jazz guitar. I hope that he gets better crowds and attention at Pete Miller's than he did this past Wednesday. Get out and support the brother, people!

Liz Mandville's CD Release Show - 12/13

2008-12-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

Liz Manville is another under-appreciated blues artist (Chicago has an endless supply of talented folks that aren't well-known outside of a small group of true blues fans). She is releasing a new CD and is having the release party in Evanston on Saturday, December 13 at Tencat Productions, which can be found at

1316 Sherman Ave
Evanston IL 60201
847-475-3200
tencat@tencat.net

Liz is also a painter, and her visual art is linked to the blues life. There was a great article on Liz in the Chicago Sun Times yesterday. Here is the link.

Liz is the real deal - she has an outstanding, powerful voice and she can play that blues guitar with the best of them.

Christmas Concert - Evanston Symphony and ETHS Singers

2008-12-08T03:22:00.000-08:00

Blues, funk, jazz and soul are the musical genres that I prefer, but I ventured into the world of light classics yesterday.

My 16-year old daughter began singing with the Evanston Township High School ("ETHS") a capella choir this fall. On Sunday, she was in her first public performance, singing Christmas carols at the Evanston Symphony's Christmas Concert at the ETHS Auditorium. The student singers entertained prior to the concert and at intermission, and they were terrific. A capella singing is not for sissies - intonation can be tough to maintain, getting voices to blend is a challenge (particularly adolescent voices). My daughter and her 30+ colleagues pulled it off. The leader of the choir, Ms. Reed, is very passionate about vocal music and her students love her.

I caught the first half of the Evanston Orchestra concert; had to split after intermission. The Evanston Orchestra is a very credible group - one of the best community orchestras I have ever heard. The musicians are all volunteers and they have day jobs (one of the trombonists is a parter in a large Chicago law firm, for example). The orchestra was established in 1945 by returning WWII veterans. As a community orchestra, it has wandered among venues in Evanston, settling into the Pick-Steiger concert hall at Northwestern for some concerts and the ETHS auditorium for others. The Evanston Orchestra does five concerts a year (including the Christmas show).

The group was all gussied up in formal attire at Sunday's show. I always thought that it was odd that classical musicians are forced to wear tuxes and formal dresses when performing. Don't these clothes constrict movement and breathing (two important activities for orchestral musicians)? In spite of their stiff attire, the orchestra sounded luxurious, laying out lush arrangements of "White Christmas," "Sleigh Ride," and a bunch of other traditional carols. The orchestra was joined by the Evanston Dance Ensemble for a medley of themes from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. The dancers were young folks - 12-18 years old, I would guess - and they were fun to watch.

I am ashamed to admit this is the first time I have heard my home-town community orchestra. It won't be the last.