Monday, May 18, 2015

Links for the voracious

Just a skosh of the tantalizing tidbits online.


 
"I think the Battle of Versailles captured the sense of transformation that was such a part of the 1970s. Each of the American designers, in their own way, reflected change. Anne Klein captured the new feminism. Halston was part of the rise of celebrity culture. Bill Blass and Oscar de la Renta both were examples of the distance that American designers and the American fashion industry had come. Stephen Burrows spoke to the social liberation. And certainly the black models—and their impact on the show and influence on the other models—captured the tumultuous racial climate."- Robin Givhan, author of The Battle of Versailles."


 
"By the early ’70s, she was making 15-foot-tall “very hairy and fetishy” charcoal hybrids of penises and screws, a play on “screwing,” as in fornication, and “getting screwed,” as in being mistreated. “The idea is funny, but the execution was very raw,” she says. “They were very warlike and missilelike and ominous.”


 
"If you read anything about Susan Sontag written since her death in 2004, it won’t take long for you to stumble across the fact that she could be, as Terry Castle puts it in her agonizingly generous essay "Desperately Seeking Susan," "weally  weally mean!" Sontag’s arrogance, her condescension, her inhospitality — often, the earlier and more prominently these ad feminam excoriations figure in the review at hand, the less earnest the engagement with her work that follows. (One can’t help but notice that the niceness of her male peers is rarely considered so central to their legacy; the press hath no scorn like for a woman-fury.) Eventually, this preoccupation becomes more than a distraction — it becomes a crutch to excuse shallow inquiry into her work. That is not the problem with Daniel Schreiber’s Susan Sontag, first published in German and translated by David Dollenmayer, the first biography published since her death. It offers an opportunity to reassess how we approach the last great public intellectual."
 

 
"With the release "The Thrill is Gone" (1969), B.B. King solidified his role as Black music's ambassador to the world. Throughout the 1970s King also found crossover success with singles like "Ain't Nobody Home" (1972) and "To Know You Is To Love You" (1973), which was written and originally recorded by Stevie Wonderand Syretta Wright; Wonder appears on the King version, effectively capturing two generations of black music listeners, at a moment when Wonder was ascending to his own iconic status. By the time King released 1974's Friends, with the title track and the instrumental "Philadelphia," which sounds like the best of what was produced at Sigma Sound Studios in that era, the mainstream pop audiences were gone, looking more for nostalgia from the Claptons and Steve Millers of the world than forward thinking from "old" Blues musicians."
 
 
 
“We’re constantly being bombarded with the same image of black people, over and over again—the same tropes played out again and again in media and in movies and in journalism and popular culture. So to see something that is contrary to the dominant narrative is so refreshing,” says Shantrelle P. Lewis, the curator of “Dandy Lion” who began documenting the black dandy in 2010. “When [black men] walk inside this exhibition, they see themselves reflected on the wall, and it’s a very powerful thing.”
 

 
 
 
"Librarians have frequently been involved in the fight against government surveillance. The first librarian to be locked up for defending privacy and intellectual freedom was Zoia Horn, who spent three week in jail in 1972 for refusing to testify against anti–Vietnam War activists. During the Cold War, librarians exposed the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s attempts to recruit library staffers to spy on foreigners, particularly Soviets, through a national effort called the Library Awareness Program."

 

Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Passionate Listener


The Bird (my eldest kid) and I listen to a lot of music together. Our drives to school this week have been dominated by Koko Taylor and Dionne Warwick. On the way home it has been Johnny Cash every afternoon. Listening to music together is a fundamental part of our family life. There isn't any censorship of content or hierarchy of genre. The musical relationship the Bird and I have is an extension of the way I learned to appreciate and love different kinds of music as a kid. Music was everywhere and part of everything. There was R&B, Soul and Rock & Roll. My mom had a love for Standards she embedded into my soul. When visiting her family in the Caribbean, Soca and Country played all day. The only break was the news on BBC World Service. At home with the Mexican side of my family, Rancheras and the songs of the mariachi filled the days. On Saturday mornings, my aunt cleaned the house while listening to Pedro Infante and Juan Gabriel on the hi-fi. Before I could choose music for myself, my elders' musical tastes became the soundtrack of my life.

The musical foundation of my childhood bloomed into a teen love of LA Hair Metal, New Wave and Rap. College was all about Classic Rock. I am dabbling in Opera now and coyly flirting with Bluegrass. The Blues has taken over my life.

There is always more music to consume the heart and fill the ears. Every so often, I'll share a short list of the music that's making me happy in a post called 'The Passionate Listener.' Here is the first installment:
Carmen McRae 'Ms. Jazz'  is one of my all-time favorite musicians. The Passionate Listener could only begin with her.  




Miles Davis Quartet opening for Grateful Dead, 1970 Fillmore West.
 
 
I don't understand a word they are singing, but thy are feeling the song and so am I. Bryn Terfel, Judith Howard, Marcelo Alvarez, and Denyce Graves are the singers.

 
 
'Oya' and 'Mama Says' by Ibeyi because one song is not enough.
 
 
 
 
 
The healing waters of Koko Taylor Chicago Blues are a balm for the soul.
 
 

 
 
 
The one and only “Chente,” Vicente Fernandez.
 



Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Koko Taylor knows the way


I am a recent and fervent convert to the cult of Koko Taylor. She is magnificent. Koko Taylor is the personification of confidence and affirmations to live life to the fullest. In her songs of lamentation for a love affair gone wrong there is resolve and ultimately, triumph. She is Koko Taylor, she sings the Blues, and you are better for having basked in the glory of her down-home, rock-steady vocals. There is no retreat and there is no surrender when with Koko Taylor. If the spirit of Koko and the band hits you just the right way, where and when you need it, there is transcendence. In my understanding of Koko Taylor’s music right now, her songs give me the sense of a glorious summer gathering. It is late in the day, the sun is still shining with vigor and a light breeze is rustling the leaves of the shade trees. There is talk and laughter and the hint of the unexpected in the air. Libations are in hand. Good friends are in the midst of reverie. As of my baptism in the healing waters of Koko Taylor Chicago Blues, these are my favorite songs so far:

 
 



The diva in repose

"Stand Up Straight and Sing!" A memoir by Jessye Norman


The cover photo of Jessye Norman’s memoir "Stand Up Straight and Sing!" is glamorous. Her luminous face is set in mid-expression. The image seems to capture her singing the last note of something special. The book cover tempts the reader to immerse herself in the life of this singular artist.

For the opera lover there are many Jessye Normans. She was the diva whose flawless voice embodied the diverse pantheon of operatic heroines and villains. She was the marvel who performed France’s national anthem 'La Marseillaise' at the bicentennial of the French Revolution. Resplendent in a tri-color couture gown inspired by the French flag, Ms. Norman sang to a live audience of millions in Paris. Unfortunately, opera fans will not find many delicious details or behind-the-scenes stories about the world of classical music in "Stand Up Straight and Sing!.” Ms. Norman only provides very light sketches of her work with James Levine of the Metropolitan Opera and other conductors. After watching Ms. Norman in Julie Taymor's inventive production of Oedipus Rex, reading a more substantive reflection of the production from her would have been invaluable to the discussion of aesthetics in classical music productions. The most intriguing opera related story in the book is about Ms. Norman helping a friend and fellow singer defect from East Germany.
 
 

 "Stand Up Straight and Sing!" is at its best when Jessye Norman shares stories about her upbringing in segregated Augusta, Georgia. Tales of growing up in a middle-class black community in the Jim Crow South are not commonly documented in memoirs. She writes with love about her dedicated parents and credits them with setting expectations that have defined her approach to living: "Be conscious of one's choices, resolute in one's beliefs, and always maintain integrity and a work ethic that demands concentration and focus." Even in the midst of a loving community Norman could not escape the horrors of the times. She recounts the story of a black man executed for raping a white woman. According to Norman, the man and woman were caught by the police having consensual sex in the man’s car. The woman feared the consequences of having her interracial relationship exposed and claimed she was raped. The man was arrested, tried, convicted and executed by electrocution. The woman was broken by her lover's fate. “She would later be found wandering around various African American churches throughout Augusta on Sunday mornings, asking for forgiveness for what she had done; she could not find peace. When she found her way to a church, she was allowed to speak, as was anyone who wanted to stand up and testify before a congregation, whether it was to give thanks for the help that a grandmother received during her illness, or for being hired for a new job. Still, when this woman finished her apology and begged for forgiveness, the church was often silent as there was no discussion.”

Living in a segregated environment and under laws that conferred second-class citizenship upon her did not deter Jessye Norman. In addition to her parents and elders in her community, Ms. Norman found strength and inspiration in Marian Anderson. Ms. Norman writes about Ms. Anderson's concert at the Lincoln Memorial on Easter Sunday 1939 with reverence. Marian Anderson had been denied the right to sing at Constitution Hall by the Daughters of American Revolution. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt organized the concert at the Lincoln Memorial in protest. Ms. Anderson's first song was a scathing rebuke of the idiocy of American racism. She sang “My Country Tis' of Thee.”

 “Stand Up Straight and Sing!” is Jessye Norman’s testament to her phenomenal life.