music


31
Jan 25

Friday the 31st

The weekend is upon us. There is nothing but cold and gray and winter this weekend. All of that and whatever grim things come our way in the news. This is no way to start a Friday, but it is the right way to end January, begin February, and here we are.

I had a nice bike ride this evening, getting in 35 miles before it got too late in the day. I had two Strava PRs over the course of the ride, including the climb at the end of the thing. I messed around with the first mile or so of it, but then got serious and put in 20 seconds on my best time. I’m only four minutes off the fastest time.

The problem is that it was a short climb, just 2.33 miles. You can’t be four minutes behind the fast guy on a climb of that length. You’re almost halfway down the hill!

Hill is the right word. Right now I’d struggle to get over even virtual mountains.

OK, this is the last clip from last week’s concert. This was the finale in the encore, and “Satellite” is just such a cheery song to end a show on. It’s one of those that you can listen to a lot and find it might mean one of several different things. But it’s snappy. And everyone is happy. I have settled on it being a cheery song.

I didn’t notice it at the show, but I see it in the video here, the puppet that represents the Evil Producer is even dancing along in the back of the shot. If you can make an Evil Producer puppet dance, you’re doing something right.

  

The weekend is upon us. Too bad spring isn’t on the other side of it!


30
Jan 25

I’m currently out of perfect similes

It has occurred to me that this week, and next, are the last calm weeks of the term for me. The material, of course, scales up, and the grading will too. From mid-February until May will be like a boat ride on choppy waters. You white-knuckle it at times, you wonder why you’ve agreed to this, but it gets you there, and you’re ultimately grateful for the trip, if only this boat would get to a dock, you to a car and, finally, back home.

It’s an imperfect simile, but it gets the point across, maybe. I could spend the rest of this time thinking of a better simile, but instead I’m using the time to try to get just a little bit ahead of things.

Today it was simple stuff. I started composing questions for some research I’m working on. I laid out clothes for next week’s classes. I fired off a message to some students in the online courses. I emailed back and forth with some people. Tomorrow, I’ll read a lot. Next week, I’ll try to stay ahead. After that, liftoff.

Here’s another video from the show last Friday. This is part of the encore. There’s a dumpster behind Guster. Once they were traveling from A to B on tour and got socked in to Western Pennsylvania. As a joke, they put some coordinates online and a few local fans showed up. They played in front of a dumpster. Occasionally they do it again, and now, they’ve incorporated it into their tour.

  

Here’s part of that original dumpster set. It was 2016.

I wonder if I would have gone out to stand in the cold and snow, just to see what they were going to do.

That was a Saturday. I didn’t write anything in the blog. We were all so much younger then, even though we felt old.

Thirty-one miles on the bike this evening. I’m ready to not be riding in the basement. Maybe in three or four weeks. But, for now, it’s all virtual. I go a long way, I wind up nowhere.

For some reason it looks like you ride over the ocean, but it’s a road in the game. A fictional land, where sometimes you ride fast, but you never go anywhere. It’s like being on the boat, ready for a trip you’ve been looking forward to taking, but the trip gets canceled.

It’s still an imperfect simile.


28
Jan 25

The Thunder Song

I’m going to share this video and one or two from the encore and that’ll be it. So you like Guster and enjoy these, or you won’t have to deal with it for another day or two.

This one has acting and a song. It’s a musical! It’s bad acting, possibly deliberately so. It’s a comically, deliberately bad song. It’s possible that it is a deliberately bad musical.

Maybe this is the sort of comedy that requires familiarity with the subject matter to land. Maybe it works on it’s own, I dunno. But the Thunder God, Brian Rosenworcel, chews up the scenery every chance he gets, so trust me, it’s funny.

  

And if you think that this video being at the top of the post says something about the day, you’re correct! I spent the whole thing reading the first assignments of the semester. Nine down, 67 to go!

Doesn’t seem like so much when I say it like that, he thought, foolishly.

I did have my first ride in the better part of a week. I’ve been fighting a mild case of the sinuses since last Wednesday night. I’ve had much more annoying experiences with it in the past. This, even at it’s most frustrating with the late night coughing and the ragged sleeping, wasn’t all that bad. I have a lifetime of experience in this area, and I am familiar with the pattern. Yesterday, bowing to the onslaught of those little vitamin C supplements and regular doses of antihistamines and the liberal use of cough drops, my sinuses gave up. By Thursday or Friday this will all be forgotten. This evening, for the first time, it didn’t feel like the worst idea to hang my head over handlebars for an hour or so.

Which let me see the lighthouse.

Also, one of the problems of my sinuses are a bit of fatigue. Between that and poor sleep, who wants to ride a bike? I suppose I could have, but, I mean, who wants to ride a bike in their basement when they’re 33 percent sick?

Anyway, 22 miles, one big climb. I thought about doing more, but I was happy to be done. And tomorrow maybe I’ll try again.


27
Jan 25

Luke is Joe, until he finally gets to play himself

I’m not going to upload the whole Guster concert we saw Friday night, but there are maybe two or three other little bits I want to highlight. This was the beginning of their second version of the “We Also Have Eras Tour.” We saw them on the first leg of this tour, last march in Baltimore. We also saw them last May in a live radio concert. Obviously we were going to see them again. We’ve now seen the boys from Tufts three times in the last 10 months. I can’t wait to see them again.

This one takes a little context. Which I guess is perfect and confusing since the silly conceit of this tour is they are acting (to critical acclaim) their life story. So, context. Guster started, in 1991, as a three piece, guitarists Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner and percussionist Brian Rosenworcel, the Thunder God. In 2003 Joe Pisapia, a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter and producer joined the band. He stayed in the group, and added a lot, until he left to play in k.d. lang’s band in 2010. So, at this point in the concert, they’re in that period. But Pisapia isn’t there. The part of Joe Pisapia is played by Luke Reynolds, who joined the band when Pisapia departed. When he first comes on stage in this show, he’s holding a giant picture of Pisapia over his face. He wears a name tag that says “Joe” on it during that part of the show. It’s dorky and tongue-in-cheek and great. Everyone is in on the joke.

So this is Reynolds, with the banjo, playing as Pisapia. He and Miller are pretending to re-enact the creation of one of their most popular numbers and, because of the magic of show business, it comes together for us here fully formed. This is “Jesus on the Radio,” which is always referenced on March 16th, since March 16th figures into the song.

Only, there’s a lot going on here in this particular performance. Reynolds is obviously losing his voice. It’s January. Miller knows it. The sound person knows it. Most people in the crowd probably didn’t catch this, but I heard it: Miller picks up some of the slack and the booth made some quick adjustments to their mic levels. And then when Gardner joins in, they change the layering in the chorus. This is all done on the fly.

  

Let’s check in on the cats, who have entered another noir era for this week’s installment of the site’s most popular feature.

Phoebe was catching a nice little nap in the 1 o’clock hour.

Same spot, a few days later, and almost down to the minute, I found Poseidon doing the same thing.

So, clearly, I’m the one with the routine.

(Bonus point for you if you see Phoebe in the background.)

In class today I demonstrated that the students don’t want me lecturing all semester. I did this by … lecturing for a full class session. Today we talked about globalization, and the history of cities, and a little about how each helps the other. And this will get us started down our path for the semester. A path that, I hope, they’ll lead the way on, conversationally.

The class was great today. A third or more of them were chipper and chiming right in. A few others sprinkled in some ideas, as well. Next week, we start talking about media and culture. And then we’re off to the races, examining various kinds of media from different places around the world.

I hope it all works out half as well as I’ve imagined it. In the the imagined version, a few students who took the class as a pure elective tell me they’ve been so inspired that they’ve changed their major. Others say they’ve had a vote and decided I am the Cool Professor. They’ll tell me this class was gas. That I left no crumbs. I will accept the gesture, but politely decline the gift they’ve all chipped in for. And, besides, being the Cool Professor is a great honor. It’ll go on my vita, I tell them. Right at the top, in fact. Instead, of a gift, just tell all of your friends about the class. And they do. And, eventually, it becomes so popular that they have to move it into one of those giant auditorium settings. Each semester it grows, becomes more intriguing, and more innovative. And then one day, a former student from this class comes back, now a cross-cultural pioneer in some as yet unrealized medium, and they guest lecture in the course. They say it started for them, right here. And they feel so indebted that they still want to give me that gift. By then, my career is winding down and I’ve become so popular that accepting a gift doesn’t seem problematic anymore. I figure maybe they’re going to give me a new prototype of their newest technological innovation. Or make a sizable donation to the university in my name, and my name goes on a building somewhere. But, then, my former student and now friend and global media pioneer says, No, the alumnus says. In 2025 we bought you a granola bar. And I’ve held onto it since then. Here it is, your 20-year-old thank you.

So, yeah, if it works out half as well as that, I’d be pleased.

After class I completed the impossible and Herculean task of putting office hours on the office door.

And then I went to the UPS store. Now there’s a tale …

I walked in because I had to return some poster frames I bought. I had to return the poster frames because I bought the wrong size poster frames. I need 24 x 32 and I bought 18 x 24. Not an original story.

I walked into the UPS store bracing myself for a line, because some part of my brain just thought it’d be like the USPS. But let me tell you, there was no one in the UPS store. When I opened the door the bell rang or the ding donged or whatever, and one of the guys came out of the back.

What can I do for you, boss?

This is now the second person that’s called me boss in the last 72 hours.

“I need to return this box and I’m sure you can tell me what to do from there.”

He has by then picked up his scanner, punched three buttons he hits dozens of times a day and scans the code I have shown him on my phone. His printer spits out a label faster than the sound from the scanner dies in the room. Seriously, you could still hear an “ep” and he had the thing in his hand.

OK, he said.

“It still has the label on the — ”

I’ll cover it with this one. Have a great day, boss.

And that was that.

So then I went to a gas station. Now there’s a tale! I’m going to save that one for another day.


24
Jan 25

We saw The We Also Have Eras show

After a day of email and committee meetings and the like, we went across the river for an evening of frivolity.

We met up with my two-godsisters-in-law (just go with it) and one of their husbands for dinner. We found ourselves in a nice Italian steakhouse themed place with the sort of ambient lighting that suggests a fine establishment. The music suggests you are an extra in a brat pack movie. The waiter suggested a high end experience. The big screen beside our table played … Fight Club … for some reason.

Because just before the appetizers get put on the table, you want that scene about stealing medical waste to make soap.

After the dinner-and-a-movie, we went down the street to see a rock ‘n’ roll show. Guster was in town, kicking off the second leg of their “We Also Have Eras” tour. We saw them on the first leg of this tour, last march in Baltimore. Obviously we were going to see them again. We also saw them last May. We’ve seen the boys from Tufts three times in the last 10 months. I can’t wait to see them again.

One of the best things about the “We Also Have Eras” tour is the comically bad acting. (They’re playing at making a stage production of the life of the band. It’s amusing, and awkwardly so. Also, they play up the awkward for more amusement.) But they’re also playing stuff that they’d semi-retired. Released in 1998, this was Guster’s first radio hit, breaking into the Billboard Modern Rock chart and introducing us to their second album. The fabled 99X in Atlanta (which is BACK!?) (apparently it is BACK!) was a big part of their early success. The late Sean Demery was the music director and afternoon drive jock and I tuned in everyday, via RealPlayer, and discovered all kinds of new acts. Between what Demery was doing in Atlanta and what Dave Rossi and Scott Register was doing in Birmingham and what music was doing everywhere, it was a great time to be looking for new stuff.

I digress, but they, and this, were a big part of the soundtrack of 1998.

  

I was glad to see some people remembered to bring ping pong balls.

There was a banner, just off to the right, that someone laid over the mezzanine railing. It figures into 2003’s “Come Down Stairs and Say Hello,” though the lyric is obviously mangled for the moment.

I didn’t see it, but someone said when they actually played that song (because it is a show about eras) the person with the sign dropped in the correct lyrics, Be calm, be brave, it’ll be OK.

And here we are after the show. Shivering in the air for another dose of neon. It was 19 degrees.

We’ll see them again in March. Four shows in just 367 days!