Today at the Old US Mint we were treated to a concert featuring Al Bemiss and Joshua Walker. It was a great show that focused on gospel music in New Orleans. Joshua has one of the most spectacular bass voices I have ever heard. Al is a great organist who took our new Hammond B-3 for a spin. I am posting a version of “go down Moses” from today’s show that was an emotional highlight. Mr. Bemiss is on the piano for this one as Mr. Walker draws from the hymnal.
I had to get some keys cut at a locksmith in the back of town. As I was driving there I came upon this pod of stop signs. I can only think that it is some city workers artwork. It’s not even on a corner. No one stopped for them while I was shooting. Couldn’t see the forest for the trees I guess.
In a last minute call, we had opera singer Tyrone Chambers come down and belt out some spirituals as well as some beautiful arias. Beautiful voice, and a wonderful performance.
This is the other side of the Mint Glow Shot, with Connie and Crew killin it on a Saturday afternoon.
Just a view from where I get to work every day. Today’s show was Connie Jones Septet. No processing to this image, just the facts.
I was brought up to the cupola of the Cabildo by a colleague last week. One of the awesome perks of working for the State Museum is access to the rarely trod parts of the properties. There is quite a vantage point for much of the Vieux Carrè from up there. It’s clear that Jackson Square is defined by a circle inside the gates. I love the long shadow of the couple entering the park from the north (near) gate. Another beautiful day in New Orleans!
I took a streetcar for the first time this week. Mostly, the streetcars are used by tourists; they are rather slow for actual commuting. I had to make a round trip to get my hair cut and I didn’t want to move my car, or jostle for parking downtown for an errand. So I decided to ride the “Rapid Transit” that is offered here. As the streetcar cruised by the Promenade across from Jackson Square, I took this shot of a Brass Band busking. Seems like it is not such a popular spot, so maybe they are just rehearsing.
I am not one to get nostalgic about this tragic date. I remember it well enough. Indeed the turmoil from that day ripples thru my every day still. It puts punctuation marks in the chapters of my life. I have seen much in the ten years since. Ten years has become 1/4 of my lifetime instead of the 1/3 on that day. Time does dilute and distort events. That has not happened for me with 9-11. Every September now begins for me with a feeling of despair and dread . I do not suspect a repeat. I just relive the few days just before that Tuesday, and when the 11th passes, I feel like I am ready to move on. I am just ready to move on.
I heard that a plane had hit the Twin Towers on the radio. I thought it must be some small plane got lost in the fog and clipped the building. I was living in Park Slope Brooklyn, and I had access to the roof from my apartment. So I climbed out the fire escape and immediately knew my “lost in the fog theory” was dead wrong. It was a beautiful clear day with a few high fluffy clouds in the sky. I ran back down to get my camera.
I went back up and started taking shots of the smoke pouring out of the building. I noticed a plane over the harbor. I thought that maybe they were rerouting flights under the smoke. Then the plane took a sickly turn right into the other tower. The most intentional thing I had ever seen. I felt as if I were dreaming this, like it were some broken reality. Then I heard the explosion some 15 seconds later. Then I knew it was all too real. I used up the rest of my film and ran down to get more.
My downstairs neighbor was at my door knocking. The TV signal had gone out when the second plane hit. He was duly freaking out. He grabbed his camera and we went back to the roof exchanging looks of disbelief.
My first marriage had been falling apart since the beginning of September. I still held out the hope that we could work it out. It was not up to me.
My wife was in Manhattan at the time the planes hit. I tried every type of communication to get in contact. No use. The buildings burned.
When the buildings fell, I realized that there would be no reconciliation. My wife walked back to Brooklyn unscathed, but our little thing was over. The city that I knew so well was changed forever. With that change began a change in me. The familiar was no longer soothing. Peace of mind, if I can ever find it, lay in other places; with other people.
Ten years on, I still miss that city that I loved growing up. That I mourn for it, and the loss of my innocent years is moot. I cannot move backwards thru time. I’m still ready to move on for that fleeting peace of mind.
I find it daily with my family. My wife encouraging. My son inspiring. And always there is music; the key to new experiences.
Peace and Light.
In the mid-1990′s I joined a studio collective in the Brooklyn waterfront neighborhood known by the acronym D.U.M.B.O. (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass). It was before that area was discovered by developers and hipsters. The only people around back then (besides laborers from the loft manufacturing shops) were artists or musicians looking for large spaces to do their art and a few twisted yuppies who also wanted a bit of space.
The studio was called The Kennel, and it was founded by Chris Rael, Kenny Seigal and Brian Geltner (aka Dr. Snitch). All three had been playing in each other’s bands for a while. Kenny and Brian were in Hunk and Johnny Society; Chris had The Church of Betty; Kenny and Brian played in Church of Betty as well. Additionally the three had a band called The Hand with the late Jan Kotik, R.I.P. (Jan was also in the mommyheads and BeeKeeper). They are all prolific, talented musicians and I am glad to be friends with them all. I got to hear tons of great original music and work on some of the best music coming out of NYC at the time.
The original Kennel was in Kenny’s parents basement on Long Island. After Kenny and Brian moved their band’s gear into the Dumbo rehearsal space that Chris had founded, I moved my studio gear in, as did Bryce Goggin. At this point, the place was packed with every conceivable musical instrument as well as a really well equipped recording studio. Many records were made at the Kennel, and now that Spotify is here you can hear them! The Hand Mule me, Johnny Society Wood and Clairvoyance as well as BeeKeeper Ostrich are some prime example, but many records were made there. The place was unheated in the winter and un-airconditioned in the summer. In the winter we recorded with hats and gloves on. In the summer we drank gallons of Gatorade. The music made it worthwhile.
I did not start this post as an essay to the long lost glory of The Kennel. I just wanted to introduce some people who have paid their dues. Each of them deserve entire books written about them. They all still spend their lives revolving around their muses of music and art.
What I want to write about is a project by Chris Rael that he is attempting to put up for the second time ever. Titled Araby It’s a musical production based on James Joyce’s book of short stories Dubliners. Chris creates a song for each of the short stories, and relates them to events in his own life. By doing so he points out the eternal feelings that cross through the eras. Here is a video trailer from the first production:
Musically, Chris Rael is an American song writer with strong Indian influence. Brian Wilson via Varanasi. (although he is originally from the D.C. area) His melodic sense is hypnotic, and his lyrical content is uncluttered. When you hear his music, you immediately feel what the heart of the matter is. He never sends mixed messages in his songs. Araby is no different.
Rael calls Araby a chamber musical. It is very much a staged reading of content inspired by Joyce. He always puts together some of the finest musicians on stage (his New Years 2000 show at the Angel Orensanz Center is the stuff of legend). Chris is now fund raising to put Araby up for the Fringe Festival in New York. He has a Kickstarter campaign going and is getting close to being funded for this one. If you feel like you can support a really great piece of art by a talented artist, I encourage you to.
What a wonderful weekend of music with family and friends! One of my oldest and dearest friends, Susan Sueiro was in town this week. She was on a marketing and sales trip for the winery where she works, Gundlach Bunschu. She was super busy all week selling fine wines to the restaurants in town, so by the time we got to hear some music, it was Friday night. After an afternoon of rain, the evening cooled down and was fine for walking around.
Friday night’s highlight was Glen David Andrews at the Three Muses on Frenchman Street. We walked into the bar in between sets at around 11:30. I thought maybe we had missed the show, but we got a table and some drinks and started talking. Oh, did I mention that Susan brought her mother, Maggie, to New Orleans? She did! Maggie is a jazz music lover who remembers the days of bebop in NYC. Of course Glen David is not exactly from the bebop school. He is from a large family of talented musicians and his music is a mix of jazz, funk, hip hop and soul. I began to think that I may have brought some dear friends to the wrong place.
When Andrews hit the floor, it was ON! Acting as band leader/emcee he prowled the floor singing sans microphone more than into one. The room is small and Glen’s voice large, the mic was an afterthought when he did sing into it. Some of the lyrical content may have been a bit blue for Maggie, but she was not offended. Far from it. She told us that Glen David reminded her of a young Harry Belefonte (she told Glen David also!). High praise from someone who knows.
You cannot avoid getting up and dancing at a show like this. Especially because Glen David Andrews will goad the audience to get up off their asses. He will walk up to you and ask why the fuck you are not shaking your ass. In a nice way. So we danced. Til 2am.
Saturday night my wife, Ann, joined the crew and we went to see the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. Packing into a French Quarter parlor room without air conditioning in July is not for the weak. The Hall has benches on a first come first serve basis, but we were not first. The staff were super nice and let us have a folding chair for Maggie. The highlight of the evening was the special request of St. James Infirmary Blues, delivered by trumpeter Marc Braud; with comments thrown in from the band throughout. The commentary lightened the mood around the dark lyrical content. The trumpet solo however, delivered the sadness that the song’s narrator is feeling deep in his soul.
If that were not enough, the special guest on saturday was Tao Rodriguez Seeger, grandson of Pete. He walked in to sing a sweet version of We Shall Overcome. Now I wished that it was MY mom on the folding chair, because she loves Pete Seeger! After the show I watched as Tao encouraged a young songwriter, who was maybe 8 or 9 years old, to never stop writing songs. Beautiful stuff.
We ended Saturday night at Napoleon House, with cocktails and appetizers. We chattered on about food and such. Just jazzed about a great weekend of music and old friends.