Light day here, as most of my hours were spent on preparing coursework. Canvas! Where all the fun is had! It’ll probably be a light week all the way around because I’m not hardly done with all of this prep work. Classes start next week, though, so there’s some stress and relief in that. Will I hit the deadlines I’ve imposed upon myself? And if I don’t, somehow, hit those deadlines, will I have a backup plan?
There’s always a plan. Thankfully, though, they don’t get used a lot. Nothing a good solid 96 hours of concentrated attention and angst can’t address.
This evening, though, we went to Philadelphia. It was $20 ticket night at Citizen’s Bank Park and The Yankee is demonstrating her secondary fandom. Her beloved Yankees aren’t very beloved at the moment, so there’s the wildcard chasing Phillies.
The home team is hosting the Angels, and perhaps the greatest player of any generation, Shohei Ohtani. This is what you need to know. At Phillies games they pipe in bell noises when the good guys hit a home run. There were five tonight — Harper in the 2nd, Schwarber in the 3rd, Bohm in the 6th, Stott in the 7th and Turner in the 8th — so there was a lot of bell ringing. An almost standard night for a team that leads all of baseball in August home runs.
We also saw a successful squeeze play, a triple and watched the great Ohtani go 3-5, and get thrown out trying to steal third base.
It was a lovely night at the old ballgame as the home standing Phillies beat the #Angels 12-7.
We didn’t think the first thing about dinner. It was about 10 p.m. when all of the runs were put on the scoreboard and we made a shortcut out of the parking lot. Through the power of the Internet and cell signals I found the one restaurant between here and there that was still open at that hour on a Tuesday night. It was a sleepy little, brightly lit restaurant and bar with Formica countertops and giant flat screen TVs.
Outside were a man and woman and, though we didn’t hear it, one of them was apparently trying to get the other to do something that was no good. Of course this woman came in for a beer in her pajamas, which she pointed out to us all. The young bartender took our order since no one else was working in the front of the house. They offered sandwiches and a burger, so we got steak sandwiches. They hit the spot. The other four or five people that came in all knew him and one another. Truly a neighborhood joint. Just as we were leaving — cash only, and now I have three dimes and that felt weird.
What do you even do with these things anymore?
Some other baseball fans came in for their late dinner. The only restaurant open for miles around.
And most importantly, I guess, the Phillies are 2-0 when we’re in the stadium. There’s another $20 game opportunity coming up next month. Because it is easy to get in and out of there, we’ll probably go back again. And now we know when the kitchen closes, and just how casual the dress code can be.
photo / Rowan / Tuesday — Comments Off on Fraught of feather, talk of talons, enchant of eyes 22 Aug 23
The mascot at Rowan is The Prof. He comes to life in the form of an owl named Whoo RU … because owls say “Who” and RU are the initials. Imagined in 1957, brought to life in 1959, and not made official until the 1990s — the idea of an underground mascot encouraging and antagonizing people for almost 30 years is hilarious — he is, like all costumed mascots, as dynamic or mediocre as the people involved with the project make him. But this, the first line about the mascot from the athletic department’s page, seems like a missed opportunity.
The Rowan University “Professorial Owl” has been a misunderstood yet deeply dynamic figure for 50 years. Not only does Rowan’s Prof promote the sports teams, but he has also, over the years, become a proud endorser of the student publications, campus events and all-around Rowan pride.
The biggest question from people, linked academically to Rowan or not, would have to be “What is a Prof?”
I’m not sure who named the character, or when, but I assume they were big fans of The Who.
(I really wanna know.)
Anyway, I decided today, on day two of orientation, that I would ask some big questions about this. Whoo RU, where are you?
That one was on a little handbill with useful contact information we received in one of the many sessions. This version was on, well, you can tell what he was on.
Whoo RU, where are you?
What’s going to happen a lot is that we’ll see a bunch of different owl logos meant to be evocative of Whoo RU, but only specific instances of the actual character because he’s limited to athletics. There are reasons for that, but I wonder if it diffuses, or reinforces, the brand in the long run.
Do you see a lot of alternate versions of Georgia’s Hairy Dawg or Florida’s Albert, or Puddles, the duck at Oregon? I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. Maybe you see them, but the costumed mascots are so iconic that your brain makes the leap without thinking about it. Call it “The mental shortcuts of things that don’t matter overmuch, not really.”
So I guess the question is, does the mascot have to be iconic to overcome that? Or is it enough that a mascot that is locally iconic? Or can a mascot that’s long been deeply misunderstood do it, too?
For what it’s worth, having not met Whoo RU yet, the cartoon owl holding a stack of books is pretty great. Is that meant to be Whoo RU, or an owl cousin with a backstory we just aren’t supposed to question? Whooever — see what I did there? –that library-going owl is, he looks ready to be the lead in a classic kids book.
Anyway, more orienting today. Full of truths, allusions to truths, helpful information and stuff that blows right by you. The thing is, if you gather a group of 50-some incredibly well trained people in disciplines representing all different disciplines that a college campus can offer, and those people are also at different stages in their careers, you’re going to find that they need different information. It’s a difficult event to program, but the programmers did a pretty nice job with it.
I didn’t have a welcome packet for some reason yesterday. The lady who does this sort of thing was a bit upset, concerned that I would be upset. I was deeply, passionately moved by this first impression. And I let her have it.
I said, “This is not my first impression, but I really must tell you, this leaves an impression. And the impression that it leaves is, I am not … ”
I didn’t say any of that, of course. It’s an easy oversight. There are a lot of moving parts. You don’t know how much goes into programming a three-day event that involves seven rooms in three-to-five buildings a day across a campus, involving dozens of people who watch their schedules like a hawk an owl, to say nothing of the catering and technology until you’ve done something remotely similar.
Several times, because it happens in medium-sized group dynamics, I ran into this nice lady. Each time she was apologetic. Finally, I made a joke that it was OK; I don’t need a name tag because I am working undercover.
She came up to me at lunch today with my gift bag and name tag. Inside the bag — a quality reusable bag which will haul groceries for me soon — was a water bottle, a folder with the schedule of events, a pen and a cool lapel pin. The name tag was blank. This, I thought, was a terrific joke in reply. I wore it with pride, that blank name tag.
Another good day, a long day. But the people were nice, the catered food was perfectly passable and the sessions were useful.
It brings the start of the fall semester another day closer, but this is the thing I’ve learned: I need more sleep. So, seeing that it is late, I’m going to give that a try.
Last night I swam a mile. I didn’t know how much I would do, but it started raining on me at about 800 yards and I didn’t want to get wet, so I just stayed in the pool. Before you know it, that’s 1,650 yards and my shoulders felt like it.
The getting wet joke is a lame family joke. We’d gone on a vacation, a dive trip, and my step-father and his kids had just been certified for open water diving. Now, some of us had been diving for a long time, and some of us took to water naturally, and a lot of us had learned from different companies and through evolving teaching methodologies. So I got to be the stick in the mud who demanded the safety meeting the night before our first dives.
Good thing, too, because we learned that my step-sister thought that giving the Heimlich maneuver was delivering CPR. (To be fair, she was young.) Anyway, she wanted to go to the pool, but I wanted to go over hand signals and hypothetical situations. It seemed a good idea. She hated every moment of it. Finally, after a refresher on rescue breathing, and a run through of the basic Caribbean fish signals, we decided we were all at least in the same chapter of the book. So it was time to hit the pool. But it was raining, you see, and so she wasn’t enthused by that. (She was young.) So the rest of us went to the pool. I stayed underwater so I would not get wet.
But last night, I swam that mile and then I floated in the water listening to the raindrops until I got cold. It was delightful in every way.
I swam a mile and I … liked … it?
I do not know what is happening.
Maybe I’ll go for another swim on Thursday.
My laps have been pretty decent, by my standards. My riding has been OK, but light. My running, lousy as ever. Now I just need to put them all in a consistent routine. That’s the part that always gets me.
Today, just more peaches. We tried the new blender. (It blends!) We had peach smoothies. And then we blanched peaches to freeze. Our freezer has a lot of peaches in it now. A new colleague came over and took some off our hands. I brought in three more baskets from the tree. I made myself another smoothie.
We goofed off in the pool until dinner time. It was a fine day. Just peachy.
So let us turn our attention to the Tuesday Tabs feature. This is for all of those extra browser windows I have open. Some of these are worth keeping, somewhere, but perhaps not worth a bookmark at this time. So I’m simply memorializing them here, so I can finally close a few more tabs. (There are so many tabs.)
The most common alternatives to bi-fold closet doors include barn doors, sliding doors, pocket doors, French doors, and curtains. If you want a more unique option, consider swinging doors, a room divider, mirrors, bookcase doors, and industrial doors …
If you’re tired of the same old bi-fold doors, choosing an alternative comes down to the overall look you want. Ready to try something new? Give these different looks a chance when you’re ready to close the door to your closet.
My home office has a bifolding door set. Not a fan.
“The First State” is an amazing state along the Atlantic Ocean, Delaware Bay and Delaware River. This peninsula location means it is full of beautiful sandy beaches, riverfront views and gorgeous parks. The state also has a rich history dating back to it being the first of the original 13 states to ratify the constitution in 1787 (hence its ‘first’ nickname). Among the big cities and prominent attractions are a number of adorable small towns full of charm, history, and opportunity. From the Dutch colony of Lewes to maritime villages or the scenic beaches of Bethany Beach, Delaware is a beautiful and friendly state worth exploring.
This March, when U.S.-based AI researcher Anand Ahuja launched CTRHero, “an AI to replace Thumbnail Artists,” he called it “his life’s work.” Trained on millions of successful thumbnails from various social media platforms, CTRHero could create thumbnails within minutes, reproducing faces with 99% accuracy, according to Ahuja. The tool outraged designers who felt their livelihoods were suddenly at stake: some threatened Ahuja with physical violence. Soon after its launch, Ahuja sold off the core technology for CTRHero.
…
For YouTubers, thumbnails are serious business, as they can make or break a videos’ reach. Top creators such as MrBeast test up to 20 different thumbnail variations on a single video, paying designers a reported $10,000 for a single video. This has spawned a microeconomy of freelance YouTube thumbnails artists around the world, who hone their design skills to attract clicks.
By some estimates, AI-generated content could soon account for 99% or more of all information on the internet, further straining already overwhelmed content moderation systems.
Dozens of “news sites” filled with machine generated content of dubious quality have already cropped up, with far more likely to follow — and some media sites are helping blur the lines.
Without sufficient care, generative AI systems can also recycle conspiracy theories and other misinformation found on the open web.
University of Washington professor Kate Starbird, an expert in the field, told Axios that generative AI will deepen the misinformation problem in three key ways.
Starbird is a brilliant scholar and one of the leading researchers in this field. Check out her work.
As you read this, I am eight CDs behind in the Re-Listening project. That’s the one where I’m listening to all of my CDs in the car, in the order in which I acquired them. I am writing about them here because, it’s a good excuse to post videos of good music. Also, sometimes there are memories attached to these things, but mostly it’s padded content. And all of it’s fun. Except when you run across that bad CD, sorta like the bad grape you weren’t expecting. There’s one in every bunch, and it all comes down to taste.
Someone else bought Sister Hazel’s third studio album so I didn’t have to. I’m not sure who gave it to me, because I did not write it on the CD and it has been at least 23 years and two months since it happened. My memory is good, but there’s a lot of stuff in my memory, ya dig?
“Fortress” featured three singles, “Change Your Mind” peaked at number five on the US Adult 40. “Champagne High,” one of the album’s better songs, reached number 22. “Beautiful Thing” did not chart, which, in retrospect, was probably a signal that the moment of success brought on by Sister Hazel formula had somehow passed them by. It’s a mystery to me, really, because it’s the same as what we were all used to from the boys from Florida.
They are rhyming the word “thing” with the word “thing,” though. Maybe people noticed.
But, look, the formula works. If you want a fun sweaty party band, Sister Hazel can take the stage and keep you happy.
As an album, “Fortress” was a minor hit, settling at 63 on the Billboard 200. The record you remember, “Somewhere More Familiar” made it to 47 in 1997. Nine years and four albums later they cracked the top 50 again. Maybe tastes change around them, but the syrupy, twangy Southern rock guitar and the upbeat harmonies stayed with the band. And you can hear it still, Sister Hazel is touring all over the eastern US for the rest of the year.
Next up is one of those albums you regret. It was released in 1997 and I got it in 2000 and I can only blame myself. The world wide web was out there, and I had three solid years to find out “Deconstructed,” a remix album, is just a bad project. Even if you like electronic music, you didn’t want this. There are no new tracks, and no real reason to listen to this. I have probably played it four or five times, total, and two of those were for the Re-Listening project. Anyway, Bush worked with DJs from the electronic genre of music to remix some of the band’s previously released songs. The first one is probably the best track … but … still … electronic, British or of any other nationality, just wasn’t for me.
Hey, it was a fusion idea that went gold, and settled at number 36 on the Billboard 200 in 1997. I didn’t like it in 2000. I don’t like it today. I never understood it on my few tries in between. Maybe it’s just me. (It can’t be just me.)
Let’s wrap up this post with a better one. Up next in the Re-Listening project was a 2002 purchase, something I no doubt got at a discount bin. Something Sony licensed for a few suckers just like me. But that’s not a problem, because “The Sound Of Country was a 2 CD sampler set full of important tracks. It grabs you right away, with some classic Roy Acuff.
That’s the more famous Acuff version, of course, but his 1946 original is something to behold. It’s not o this CD, but I have included it for you here.
One of the greatest songs ever recorded in the English language is also included here.
It’s a fundamentally perfect song. Chet Atkins is in there. The background vocals are none other than the Jordanaires. That song topped the country chart for eight weeks in 1958 and climbed to number seven on the predecessor of the Billboard Hot 100. At least three covers of that song have charted over the years.
I am pretty sure I bought this double CD, which was, no doubt, very cheap, for this one song. It was the correct choice.
I was going through a Roger Miller phase. I’d find reasons to play that song. I wasn’t the only one who fell in love with that. It won five Grammys in 1966. It should have become a Broadway show and a network miniseries. If it had come out a few decades later it would have been embossed on mudflaps. The legendary Buddy Killen played guitar on that song. His people knew my people. Maybe that’s it.
You get into some important later hits, too. This topped the charts in 1984, presaging what would become of country music a generation later.
Also atop the charts in 1984, was The Kendalls last number one.
The father-daughter act released 16 albums, seeing 22 singles making the top 40, and 11 climbing into the top 10, including three at the top of the chart. Royce died in 1998 (this CD was published in 2002), but Jeannie Kendall, who started performing at 15, is still strong more than a half-century radio.
The whole double CD:
Blue Eyes Crying in The Rain – Roy Acuff
Walking After Midnight – Patsy Cline
Oh, Lonesome Me – Don Gibson
Mama Tried – Merle Haggard
King Of The Road – Roger Miller
Big Midnight Special – Wilma Lee & Stoney Cooper
When I Stop Dreaming – Leona Williams
No Help Wanted – Bill Carlisle
Sweet Memories – Frank Ifield
It’s Only Make Believe – Conway Twitty
I Love You Because – Bob Luman
All My Ex’s Live In Texas – Whitey Shafer
Louisiana Man – Rusty & Doug Kershaw
Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind – Whitey Shafer
Okie From Muskogee – Merle Haggard
I Got Mexico – Eddy Raven
The First Few Days Of Love – Lorrie Morgan
Sweet Dreams – Don Gibson
Tennessee Waltz – Redd Stewart
Honky Tonk Merry Go Round – Patsy Cline
Night Train To Memphis – Roy Acuff
Tortrue – Kris Jensen
Thank God For The Radio – The Kendalls
God Bless The U.S.A. – Lee Greenwood
And with that, we’re only four CDs behind. The next installment of the Re-Listening project will feature an act that shows us what turn-of-the-century country and bluegrass music should have done.
We had some big winds and a great lightning show last night. Other parts of the region got hit quite hard, but we did OK. There were two branches in the road when we went out to pick up some dinner. (We tried a local pizza place, ordering things that weren’t pizza. The manager’s son, who looked all of 9 years old rang us up. No idea if he got the price right, but his dad was right there, cracking wise for us, so I’m sure he didn’t undercharge.
The lasagna was OK. But plentiful. I got two dinners out of it, last night and tonight, and I’m happy with that.
Anyway, this morning we found that the hydrangeas got waked by the storm. Mostly the rain, I think. One is in the back, on the eastern side of the house, but close enough to the structure that it’s hard to imagine those gusts got in there. The other is on the northeast corner. But hydrangeas will lean from the weight of water alone, and these guys were big and proud and tall.
So we went to a hardware store for some stakes and twin. Poured out a pint of blood to pay for it all, visited the grocery store to stock up on a few supplies. (How long does that take, we’re still re-stocking things. It seems a slow process. That’s fine. No one is going hungry, it’s just the idea of it, Shouldn’t there be more things in the refrigerator? There will be in time. What’s the next great meal that provides an abundance and leftovers? Thanksgiving? Will I be wonder about this in November?
Anyway, I tried my hand at staking up the hydrangea bushes. I spent a long time pondering strategies. I spent an almost equal amount of time wondering if I was up to the task. Am I kidding myself? It’s a weird question to ask yourself over such a small matter. First, they’re flowering bushes. Second, and you can look this up, it’s a common problem, and everyone has an easy peasy attitude about the solution. On the other hand, having driven most of the stakes into the ground and tied up a lot of branches, they don’t look quite as nice as they did yesterday.
Which was when I stopped, and decided to check on the peach tree. It was fine in the storm, but gravity put some more fruit on the ground, so I brought them inside. I ate six or eight peaches today. I may have a few more in a minute. The kitchen is stocked in fresh fruit.
I guess we’ll start cutting those up tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m apparently working on someone else’s project. Instead of reading about that, though, read about this.
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We are still trying to catch up to the Re-Listening project, and this post is helping us make a lot of progress. Remember, the Re-Listening project is the one where I listen to my old CDs in the car, and in the order in which I acquired them. I think I am seven CDs in arrears right now. These aren’t reviews, just an excuse to post some music, recall the occasional fond memory and pad the site with some extra content. It’s fun! And musical! And there’s a lot of it, so let’s get to it.
Tracy Bonham’s first album was certified gold, earned her two Grammy nominations and in 1996 saw a single top the Billboard Alternative Airplay chart. (She was the last woman to top that chart for 17 years, if you want a bit of trivia.) “Down Here” was the delayed follow-up record, released in April 2000. I got it off the giveaway shelf at a radio station. It was a signed copy. It wasn’t commercially successful, but Bonham shows her talent throughout. Here’s the single.
Wikipedia cites a ridiculous review about how it sounds like an album recorded in 1997 rather than 2000. Hey! There’s someone who reads the industry trades!
I’d go with a line like this. It feels like a song on the soundtrack of a movie about movie soundtracks.
The important thing to appreciate about Bonham is that she’s a classically trained violinist, playing at making pop records.
Bonham put out four more records after this one, the most recent in 2017. She still plays a few live shows, and has continued her varied and impressive musical career. She’s now a curriculum developer for kids’ music education. She also produced a kids album, 2021’s “Young Maestros Vol. 1,” that is aimed at teaching music theory and confidence building.
That’s a cool followup to a pop music career.
In May of 2000, Matchbox Twenty’s “Mad Season” hit the shelves. Their second album, it entered the Billboard 200 at number three and was four-times platinum in the next 18 months. Because the music industry is, well, the music industry, this success was a quantifiable disappointment. Their debut, after all, sold three-times as many units.
There are two memorable tracks to me. One I forget about every time, until that soaring riff that sets the tone. Kyle Cook can.
And this track, which has a way of haunting you, and is best not heard on the highway at night.
They’re on tour right now, supporting “Where the Light Goes,” an album they released in May. (Also, they are apparently climbing the charts again, apparently thanks to the Barbie movie.) The new record was a surprise, I guess, because they said they were going to become primarily a touring band prior to Covid. I haven’t heard any of it yet, but it gets four-out-of-five stars on AllMusic.
And I love this promo photo. There’s Cook, a rock star, but looking like he wants to play it like he’s not. Especially so since he’s standing next to Rob Thomas, who is showing his ultra rock star confidence. On the end is Paul Doucette, looking like he’d really appreciate it if you could think of him as a rock star, too. Behind them all is Brian Yale, who is just wondering if you’re done with that drill he loaned you last week.
He’s got a project to get to and he needs his tools back.
Someone gave me a copy of the next entry into the Re-Listening project. Tracy Chapman’s “Telling Stories” came out in February of 2000 and I got it that May, when it was on its way to becoming a gold record. The title track is song one. It was also the first single of the record, and it’s laying the groundwork.
Rolling Stone has a concise 16-word summation of her fifth record, calling it a “strong and steady — clear-eyed, poetic folk/funk of the kind that first got Chapman noticed.” That’s correct, and is always the case with Tracy Chapman, it’s never enough. She’s such a unique performer to me, historically, that every song is enough, but every song leaves me wanting more.
This one was a leftover from “New Beginning,” and this is, in part, why Rolling Stone called this album strong and steady, because you could put this anywhere in her catalog.
For my money, this might be the best song on the record. The woman is a poet who happens to be holding a guitar. Oh yeah, the Songbird sneaks into the chorus, too.
I’ve never produced an album, so I don’t know how this works, but is the last song supposed to be so awesome? Because this is track 12 and it feels like a third-song sort of tune.
The summer of 2000, when I got this, was an unusual one. College was over, real life was beginning, sort of. It took a few months for things to get going — not an unusual story, not everything begins on schedule. But there was Tracy Chapman, getting a lot of plays. I was grateful for that. No idea why I didn’t buy this one myself, though.
Before that happened, there was this. I was working for a company that, at that time, had three stations in their cluster. One of those stations, the best one, I thought, was a mid-century big band/jazz music format AM station that the station owner tolerated because the old music, the sports, and the absolute legend that did the morning show paid the cluster’s bills. It was a great place to learn because you could make all sorts of mistakes and everyone left you alone. It was a difficult place to learn because everyone left you alone. But it was fun. And one night, in a bin of discard CDs, I ran across this record.
Contemporary jazz just didn’t fit the format, so they were happy to give it away. The only memory I have of this CD is putting it in a player in one of the production studios, and making a tape for a pen pal in Arkansas. She did cute things like send me a postcard made from a cereal box, and blowing up a beach ball, writing a letter on it, and shipping it my way. Then or now, I couldn’t keep up with that level of creativity.
But I did have access to studios, so I set about to see if I could talk over an entire record. And I did. I talked about everything, and about nothing, really, for the entire CD. The run time on that CD is 55 minutes.
My poor pen pal. She lives in Texas now, and she has a beautiful family. They have two daughters who are in musical theater. I follow them on Instagram. Pen pals are just one of the ways that I’m sure social media does us a disservice.
I’m going to write her a letter, using some unconventional format – not a cassette or an mp3, though. Can’t play that lame card twice, even with 23 years in between. There has to be a local good or product around here that would be a sufficiently silly novelty.
Anyway, I think I am just three CDs behind on the Re-Listening project now. We may even catch up before the week is out!
There’s this superstition very real phenomenon where, if I pick a restaurant, something will go wrong and the dining experience will turn into a big dramatic nightmare. I first noticed this anti-superpower when I said, on a hot summer’s day many years ago, “Let’s go to Dairy Queen,” and so me and a college buddy went … and they were out of ice cream.
I suggested they lock up and go home, because what’s the point? And on the basis of that very true story, and a lot of other incidents that are far more consistent than random chance — one time, for instance, we went to a suburban Outback and they were out of steak! — I carefully avoid most restaurant-making decisions. To the chagrin, it must be said, of anyone that I’m dining with. The burden of the decision is on the other person or people, but we all have a much better chance of getting a reasonable meal.
Since we hardly go out to restaurants in a Covid world, this has become less of a problem.
Today …
Today I wondered, for a few moments, if that whole restaurant thing (which is very real, I assure you) would carry over to bike routes because, today, I picked the road we rode.
It was a simple out and back. Leave the neighborhood, head north until the road ends because, on the other side of that hill, there’s the river. Turn around and head back. There were two stop signs and one tiny little community along that road. And there were also several cars parked on the road along the way for one unhurried reason or another. But the route turned out fine. It was an easy little spin, and it was pleasant and I’m ready for a lot of rides like this.
I did get a close pass by a guy in his work van. This is an odd thing to do because, I know who that guy works for. There’s a particular local HVAC company that will get a little email about it.
Everything else on the ride was just fine. I may repeat part of the route tomorrow, just for fun.
Elsewhere today, we marked a significant moment in the house move. The last three boxes of our things, part of an advanced shipment, were finally brought into the house. Cleaning supplies and the like. The things, basically, that the moving company didn’t want on their truck. My god-sister-in-law (just go with it) has been holding onto these things. My lovely bride retrieved them today. Two boxes went into the basement. The other was quickly unpacked.
But that’s not the significant moment, no. I noticed, the day we moved in, that the stairwell to the basement had a light burned out. Owing to the way things have been organized, today was the first opportunity I had to carry the big aluminum ladder downstairs, extend it to almost its full height, and bring light to what was once darkness.
You don’t count how many lightbulbs you’ve changed in life — probably for the best, after a certain level of achievement the notation would make you go mad — but despite the great many light bulbs I’ve changed, this one gave me a certain feeling of satisfaction. Can’t quite put my finger on why.
It isn’t the first one in this house. It might not even be the last one I change this week, so flush with the feeling of momentum am I.
Also in the day’s list of boundless achievement I have watered many plants, studied the baseboards and vainly attempted to tighten an electrical outlet cover. Oh, and we determined which outlet in my lovely bride’s home office is a switched outlet. We have at least three of those in the house. One in each office and one in the living room. While that last one is fairly convenient, I have an unexplainable disdain to the entire concept of switched outlets. That I spent two or three minutes plugging in a table lamp and flipping switches today is the least of it.
I also watched a video on DIY drywall, so if you’re ever interested in a productive day or two, and appreciative friends … I have a project.
The most productive thing of the day, aside from that light bulb, was when we lazed about in the water this evening. That was a fine end to an easy summer’s day.
Did you know that, when we drove 11 hours across some 20 percent of this great nation on the move that I listened to CDs? I listened to a lot of CDs. What that means for us, now, is that I am still playing catchup in the Re-Listening project. That’s the one where I’m listening to all of my old CDs, in their order of acquisition, and padding out blog posts for my own amusement. I am very far behind, so let’s get to it. Remember, these aren’t reviews, but an excuse to post some videos, and maybe dig up a memory or two along the way. It’s good fun, come rock out with me now.
I load these into the CD player blind, which is to say I often don’t know what is coming next. Sometimes I remember the order — since this album just ended, then thaaat one is next, and so on. More likely, and more fun, is when I don’t recall. There’s that little pause as the CD changer pulls one CD away from the laser eye and slides the next one into place. It’s like watching a movie fanfare on TV and wondering what you’re about to see. And when the first plucked strings of this CD sprang to life I said, and I quote, “YESSSSS!”
Angie Aparo, out of Atlanta, is indirectly, come to think of it, probably my first experience with radio payola. The owner of the station I worked for when this record was released in March of 2000 “encouraged” all of his employees to attend a performance Aparo was putting on at a small venue in town. Record label people wanted to see a big turnout and somehow, this was our concern. I went to the show, pressured as I was, and only later did I make the connection.
What’s important is the show was good. This record is stinking amazing. This was the single, all futuristic and almost from a different planet.
I knew that song before the station gave me the full CD, because it was programmed a lot, but what is pleasantly surprising is how deep this record is. You most likely know this song from Faith Hill’s cover. (Her cover isn’t as good as his original.)
And maybe you know this one from a cover that Faith Hill’s husband did.
The thinnest pop tune on the whole disc will stick with you for hours. So here’s that.
They aren’t all radio pop songs, but they’re all great in the car, great to singalong with, and, if you are in the car, good for a good hand dance.
Angie Aparo put out six more albums, then had some life-and-death health problems. After he recovered, he’s put out one more album, in 2018, and is still playing around the southeast. I’ve only seen his show that one time, in early 2000.
Somehow, around that same time, I picked up Bobby Bradford’s “No Saints Walkin’.” It’s perfectly acceptable blue-eyed blues, if you’re looking for that. I never played it a lot, owing to all of the good music surrounding it in my CD books, I’m sure. And nothing really stood out this time through it, that I recall. Here’s the title track.
I think his label released that album three different times across seven years. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it found a lot of success abroad.
Speaking of success, this is where I get to tell the radio success story. My campus radio station was one of a small handful across the country that reported their song counts to some influential charts and labels. The easiest way to explain this is to say that important music executives sometimes used that data to determine who they should push. “If it is a hit on low-powered stations with college kids, we should mainstream it!” And, friends, someone (not me, in fact, this was just barely before my time) at my station liked one guy a little too much. That person wrote down the performer’s name in the playlist affidavits a little too often. And, I fear, my college radio station is responsible for making Kid Rock a thing.
I don’t own any Kid Rock albums, mind you. I always changed the station if I heard him on the radio. I was doing that long before he started experimenting with three-sample lifts and chorus quotes in the hopes of being noticed by legacy performers. If someone at my station was an early trend setter, I was an early avoider. But then I stumbled on Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise. This band is amazing, even if Kid Rock is all over the first track.
It’s an odd thing to say, but he adds something invaluable to the song.
Now, before we go any farther, a little backstory is required. Robert Bradley came up out of Alabama. He sang at the Alabama School for the Blind. He was a busker in Detroit. And, there, four white guys decided to work with him, forming Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise. This record, their second, was a refined step up from their debut. RBBS’s fans noticed the difference, sometimes critically. And if you feel the same way about Kid Rock, here’s a version with out that guy.
I don’t recall which song I heard that prompted me to pick this up. But there’s a great deal here. This, after all, was an instant modern blues classic. Maybe the first in a generation.
(Also, that song sounds better live. This feels like the most real thing in the world, somehow.)
This one, this might be the song that got me.
Also, this record … it’s autobiographical.
RBBS produced four more studio albums after this one, and a double live CD, which I may have to pick up one of these days. Bradley ran a vending machine business for a while, returned to busking, and then put out another album on his own in 2018. I’m not sure what’s become of him since then. I hope he’s still out there around Detroit’s Eastern Market, singing and writing.
So now we’re three CDs closer to being caught up. I think I’m only nine behind, now. And, in the next round of the Re-Listening project, we’ll go back in time to April of 2000 to listen to a record that was released in 1994.
