i've seen this trick before

The Lumineers show at DAR Constitution Hall last night was damn fine. The speed with which this band has moved from opener (over the summer they opened for OCMS here in D.C.) to headlining for a sold-out crowd of 3,700+ is amazing. As with most bands they’ve been around a lot longer than one might expect, and that’s clear when you watch the five-piece in action (three members are more original and played a few songs on their own). In particular, Wesley Schultz represents the face of the band, and his blazing light can carry this band a very long way. I know, it sounds like I don’t care about the rest of the band, but I do. What Shultz is to the Lumineers; Ketch Secor is to OCMS – the trick (not a bad trick) seen before. What this band has written is a nearly perfect album that mixes americana, folk, rock, strings, and harmonies that have been laid down by lots of bands over the last ten years. What the Lumineers managed to do is take all of that groundwork and build it up into ten songs that everyone can (and will) sing at every show, and that’s no mean feat. They had the (strangely diverse) crowd in a lather from the get-go and by about song four had cemented their place in the memories of the entire Hall. You won’t often see a band so tight in performance, playing to the crowd, and generally forcing you to be not only there, but to be a part of the show. (SPOILER ALERT for those who are randomly searching for reviews on Google – even though videos show it all.) The highest point of the show was when all five grabbed their instruments and marched through the crowd to the rear center platform above the boxes in the hall. From there they played a fully unplugged version of “Ho Hey” with everyone singing along; doesn’t get much better than that at any concert. If you’re headed to a show to see them, you won’t be disappointed. If you aren’t, figure out a way to go now – they won’t be in even 3,700-seat places any more.  My only nit to pick was that they did another version of “Ho Hey” toward the end of the show. I felt they might have overreached there – leave us wanting more. The unplugged version was more than enough. Where do they rank for shows? In the great category, but not the top – simply because my top shows all have more personal depth to me and my life. I say that as a way to justify not having their set at the top, and the other five are truly spectacular.

I was in one of DAR’s boxes last night – they seat five, pretty nice but no more expensive than other seats – and chatted with a couple between the opener and the Lumineers. We were talking about other bands on the rise out there (yes, dorky) and I told them about John Fullbright who is out on tour right now opening for G. Love and Special Sauce. She laughed about the G. Love reference because apparently she’d hung out with him after a show at her college any number of years ago. I told her that this was clearly her ‘brush with greatness’, but her boyfriend (husband?) disagreed. She looked a bit confused at his insistence until he pointed out to her that she’d been on the front page of newspapers worldwide in 1978. She’d been held as a child by the Pontiff, in Rome, on the first day of John Paul II’s tenure. Oh, yeah, that too. G. Love and Special Sauce or the Pope? Hmmm.

*for the man i've become / not the man that i was

I always wonder about how we judge people of influence who lead visible and affecting lives. I read the obituary of Harry Callico today: he served on the Virginia Supreme Court for 42 years and wrote the Loving v. Virginia decision in 1966 that was overturned by the US Supreme Court in 1967. I often use Loving v. Virginia to represent the recency of some of the last civil rights decisions in America. I was two. I was alive when the Supreme Court struck down laws against interracial marriage; I’m not old – I’m going to a concert tonight. The point is that it hasn’t been that long.

But, that’s not really the point of this entry. It was early-ish in Carrico’s career (he was seated on the court in 1961) that he wrote the Loving opinion, and he then served another 36 years. A number of interviewees say in the obit that he would not have ruled the way he did if he’d been faced with that choice in years, and that he’d changed. And, let’s say he did, it doesn’t matter so much right now. We can say he changed, we can say he was a product of his time, or any other reason, but it won’t answer my question. When influential people are involved in horrible decisions early in life are they are better off in our remembrances than those that do so at the end of life? Is that short timeline at the end of one’s life simply not enough time to defend an act (Joe Paterno)? Does it matter what exactly that you’ve done? Is it impossible for us to step back and see the entire package before resigning someone to the scrap heap of one act or one decision? Can one bad thing override everything that may have come before or after?

Of course, we could ask the same question of ourselves.

Okay. That’s more than one question.

(*Avett Brothers / The Perfect Space)

pay you tuesday for a hamburger today

Ah, the endless debate for children.

I'm sure this fits neatly into some game theory or delayed gratification subcategory: the weather:school matrix. The boys are off school for the next few days for the end of their semester; today there was 'weather' in the D.C. area so the government is operating a vaguely 10am or noon workday configuration. Knowing that the government determined a delay was in order it's a well known in these parts that the county would have delayed schools at least two hours, if not all day. (The math of delaying kids only two hours while their parents are delayed four hours doesn't make much sense.) Anyway, back to the game lab. Assuming there would have been a two-hour delay today there is moaning about the place that, "Man, we totally lost out on a delay." The theory in their world (and mine when I was young) is that they would trade a two-hour delay followed by five hours of school if only they didn't already have today off. The missing pieces in this grand theory are these: you have an entire day off (most important), and you off and you can't bank weather. There is no actual choice to be made, nor is there anything lost or gained. It's akin to getting a hamburger for free on free hamburger day, and then finding out that in the paper there was a 20% off coupon for hamburgers at some other place. In a single-day situation free always beats a discount; a day off always tops two hours.

Of course, it doesn't help that L. had Wednesday - Friday off last week at her school (for the semester break) and now gets another free day off today due to weather. That, by the way, is the Royal Flush of days off at the Great School Days Off Hold 'Em Championships. She can just drop her cards on the table and walk away....

hey, what's that?

I remember my first glimpse of the Grand Canyon. It's something everyone should see in a late-afternoon or early-morning light. It's a wonder that seems impossible on Earth. This video, and project, is only the second time I've ever felt that why - and I'm only watching on a computer. The process of pondering the science and technology behind this success is almost too much to comprehend. The idea that this could, or would, ever work must have seemed overwhelming. Fucking amazing. What must it have been like when Edith was called in to 'take a look at something'?

The full documentary is on Discovery on Sunday night. Do. Not. Disturb.

lords of the rings

The Eleven dropped an A4 at the Audi dealership this morning for some instandhaltung. Apparently, the headlights need to be calibrated so that if you’re zipping around Matterhorns and such, the lights anticipate your intentions and make sure you get to the Black Forest on time. That was all; the check-in mädchen stared at me with great interest as I waved my hands and said things like “aim”, “change angles”, “align”, “computer-based arithmatik configuration of headlights”, “make them point where I’m going”, and “there is an error that explains it on the dashboard”. Finally, she thinks and says, “you need the headlights recalibrated?” Yep, that’s it. A bit painful getting there, wasn’t it?

What we both immediately noticed upon pulling the car into the autohaus/maintenance/Begrüßung facility was that no one could possibly have created a more assembly line-like set of car owners. All of the people/men were about 30-32 years old, stubble, black hip-length jackets, black pants, boots, and scarf. Each carrying a blackish version of the European carry all. All having stepped from the six A4s created equally from the A4-rainbow spectrum of white, black, gray, and silver.

Dan? Any input?

Now we Sprocket!

two for thirteen

There was one thing I wanted to do this year: learn to play music. I meant to get at it last year, but I simply spent 2012 driving by the nearby music place and rereading the sign that read "Bring Music Into Your Life in 2012!" I don't know if they've changed the banner this year, but I'm staring mandolin lessons in a few weeks. There are loads of good reasons for me and my life: I do love music, I occasionally get asked if I play anything (to which I meekly reply, "Nope, I have zero talent."), and because as some point you have quit watching the years click by. Someone once said that another year will roll by whether or not you do anything - might as well.
I had piano lessons when was a kid, maybe for three years somewhere between the ages of 11-14, but I never practiced. We were the classic case of parents paying for lessons and kid not doing anything but hating lessons. I've often pointed out that never  has this phrase been uttered by a kid who actually took time to learn an instrument: "Man, I cannot believe my parents made me learn how to play saxophone!" Never will hear it. You do often hear those of my ilk saying, "I wish I'd put in just a bit of effort to learn music. Life would be better." Or, more likely, I could be up there with some middling band enjoying myself on weekends. Getting older certainly gives one pause when pondering opportunities offered and lost. The older part does also create obstacles, primarily wondering whether or not you will ever really acquire any skill - and to that I offer Ta-Nehisi Coates, discussing learning a new skill:

"One of the things I've noticed in my studies of French is how much it resembles my studies of athletics. Predictably, I struggle in both athletics and foreign language. But one of the great lessons of my childhood was that no one has the right to be naturally good at anything. More there's a particular pleasure that comes from becoming good at something which you kind of naturally sucked at. I played the djembe as a kid. I had a pretty good ear for rhythm, but no physical coordination. I could hear what I wanted to play, but my imagination exceeded my abilities. For the first year I did it, I sucked. 

But after a year of practice in my parents garage I came to suck a lot less, and by the time I gave up the instrument I had risen to the ranks of the "Merely OK." But I didn't feel "Merely OK." I felt like a king, because I knew from whence I came. I knew that great distance (and it is great) between "Utter Suckage" and "Merely OK." So while I believe in natural talent, I've never seen much point in talking about it. Generally if I decide I want to acquire a skill, I don't see much point in talking about "aptitude." I have chosen the road. Now it's time to walk."

I figure it's my time to walk.

My second item is either more crazy or less crazy. I'm not even sure how to sort out those possibilities, but I will open with this: I have zero actual construction skills. This started out as my desire to jump back into baking - breads, pizzas, lunas. What this has become is my desire to build a wood burning brick oven in the back yard. This is going to take some doing: I could just save some money and buy something to do the trick, but I really do want to take on another challenge and baking (though a challenge) doesn't quite fill my tank. I think I need to remember to pack my aggregate, right? Maybe like this:

to erin is human

I know…I always feel like everyone should be storming the castles for shows that I think are worthwhile. Seriously. Iota, in particular, seems so hit-and-miss: hardly anyone for a Blue Mountain show a few months back, literally ten of us for Jason Ringenberg a few years ago, massive crowd for The Drams. Hey, I love Brent Best and the Drams, but really? I was surprised by that one. It was nearly a decade ago that I first saw Erin McKeown. She opened for The Be Good Tanyas at London’s Royal Festival Hall in March 2003. I’d never heard of her so I didn’t know what to expect that night; what I got was one of only two opening artists that I’ve ever really loved, either from the get-go or upon later listening (the Tarbox Ramblers are the other). Actually, there was never an opener that I came to like a few weeks later. She played at Iota last night and I was stunned by a few things: First, she didn’t have to creep way back into the catalog from whence I first encountered her way back when (no Le Petit Mort, no Slung Low) simply because she has an amazing amount of material from the last five or six years, and two or three ‘styles’. To see someone so comfortable with new music (her CD just came out last week) while playing such a small venue is no mean feat. Second, who puts together a tour and says, “what I need is a drummer and…a…sax player”? That’s it: Erin (and what always seems a HUGE guitar), the drummer, and a horn man. I’ve never seen that combo before, and I doubt I ever will again. The three of them were just great – perfectly comfortable, appeared ready for anything, and the sound aligned masterfully for her musical stylings. The crowd was good, though way smaller than it should have been for her talent and local roots, and it was wonderful to be about ten feet away and center stage for the show (see above). Luckily there’s a big brick pillar in the middle of Iota (that I kept behind me) so I didn’t quite feel so stalker-y. Not that I am. Nevermind. Jenn Grant opened the show and easily convinced me to buy her newest CD out today (she was selling, in her words, the “sweet Canadian version” that was already released). She had a strong four-piece on stage and also did something I hadn’t seen before: two mics set up with different mixes (it appeared and sounded); a pretty cool little trick to allow for smooth transitions even within songs. I’ll give her CD some time to grow, but she seems to have at least a few things and styles working in her songs. Grant’s set was definitely worth my time. Or, my time was worth her set…

After the show I nabbed Erin’s playlist (^^^^^ up there) from the very small Iota stage – and felt a bit like a criminal doing so. I had a chance to talk with her a bit afterwards and admitted my misdeed, and our original London encounter. She didn’t care a bit about my thievery, and signed the playlist for me. Ah, brushes with greatness. Here’s her first ever video – and she played the song backwards for us last night; something she had to learn during the shooting.

ice ice baby

X treated us to a Holiday spa visit this weekend; we snuck out whilst the teens weren’t looking and did three hours at Spa World. As part of our visit we were booked in for a reflexology massage – better known as 30 minutes of dude attacking your feet and lower legs. Now, I’m not too much of a baby, but that guy was solid; while working on my left foot/leg he had to slap my foot a couple of times to indicate that I needed to relax. Sure, buddy, all over that. By the right foot I was well into the this-and-that of reflexology. No worries about X, she just sat there as if someone were lightly tapping her foot, not attempting to put their thumb and knuckles through the arch in your peds. I have to say that by the time he was done my feet felt damn fine and I was ready to stand around anywhere you’d want to stand around for at least eight hours. Give me some standing.

I did two rounds in the pools: one post-cardio workout, and once after our massages and hot rooms. They conveniently provide an ice sauna room for bears to enjoy in between bouts of clay stones, forest heats, amethyst heat, and various other lizard rooms. Nothing calls a bear quite like a big room of ice. Overall, you can see exactly how much happier the world would be with weekly visits to an overly relaxing spa. We wrapped the day with dueling Bibimbap in the spa restaurant. If you come visit we may drag from a stupor to spa…be warned.

all in one

On Friday X got an e-mail from a D.C. liquor store - some now near legendary joynt that provided the Singleton for Christmas - about a new release Spanish wine that Charles Parker rated a gazillion. She just happened to open her e-mail between 10:00am and 10:09am and decided to plop down an order for 2 bottles at $16.99. Done deal, hands dusted. We swung by after work to pick up her two bottles where upon she was treated as some legend who'd mastered wine greatness. Apparently, only 50 cases were delivered to the greater D.C. area and this shop managed 49 of them. Wth a limit of six bottles per customer, only 98 D.C-area customers tapped out the 588 bottles - well, 47 with 6 each, X with 2, and one person who called and could only get four, and now doubt wondered whole the hell would call on release day to only buy two? If you're getting in during the nine-minute selling period you'd surely buy six. I'm sure the talk around the nation's capital wine circles over the weekend involved determining just who busted up the six pack. Along with that discussion, they must have awoken a bit hungover, because we were. Breca packs a 15% alcohol content and it certainly knocked us around (during our rousing new geography game). It is very, very good.

This is a picture of one of the two matching handmade mugs I've gathered from an Eastern Market artist. I keep one at work, one that I've been using for coffee for about a year - everyone (most) know this is my mug; I have it at meetings nearly every morning. Anyway, about three weeks ago it went missing, and I quickly sorted that I must have left it on someone's desk whilst walking about pontificaing, as I'm wont to do. Well, nothing. After a number of weeks with no one saying, "Hey, Pontiff, you left you mug on my desk," or (walking to my desk an hour later) "Here's your mug old man. I hope you don't leave your kids alone in strange places." Finally, last Monday one of my closer confederates says this to me, "Hey, I think you your mug, the blue-and-white one, is on Beasley's desk. I think he's keeping pens and pencils in it." What the fuck? I remember going to Beasley's desk for something a few weeks back - a rare event - and the bell finally rings that I did leave my mug on or near his desk. Most likely with at least a quarter cup of coffee still in it. Let's break down this scenario a little more: you've discovered and unknown coffee cup on your desk. Hmm. Said cup is pretty distinctive in styling; you aren't looking at a styrofoam cup, or anything that looks as 'distinctive' as this:

I guess if it did look like that you might think something other than "this clearly belongs to someone", take it to the kitchen, rinse it out, and leave it in the drainer. Nope, not happening here. You have a handmade mug left on your desk, including some coffee undrinked, and you decide this: I'll just rinse this bitch out, give it a dry, and put my pens and pencils in it. Bingo. This is akin to seeing some kid wandering across your lawn, grabbing him, giving him a shower, and having him settle into your family. Look at my mug. How could you not figure that it belonged to someone? I'll never know. I did see him in the hall after data was received and nicely said, "Beasley, I hear my mug is on your desk holding your pens and pencils." To which he replied, "The ceramic blue one? I'll get my stuff out of it and bring it to your desk." Fade to black.

This is the final install of the cat door/vaporlock. As you see, it has space for a plant, a candle, and the cats' stockings come Christmas. For you non-local folk, the hand-built box has two doors: the one you see, and one on the opposite end, outside access. The cats can't have both doors open at the same time so the cold air (or heat in the summer) doesn't much affect our weather bill. (Yes, there's carpet inside the vaporlock - seriously?). There's the carpeted platform inside, a painted platform outside. Lemon figured it out in about half a day; Pumpkin took some coaxing and a few days of thought. All is fine now.

life

I sat in the car in our driveway on the Hilltop listening to the final Terry Gross interview with Maurice Sendak. I remember how powerful it was. I remember I might have had lots of dust fly into my eyes. It’s something special – his entire life was something special. You’ve been warned. A discussion has come up at the Dish, and continues.

bottle full of dirt

Let’s talk politics, but use the world of concert tickets as the narrative.

Back in 1994 when DoJ was investigating Ticketmaster for a variety of bullshit, Pearl Jam entered the fray (willingly) as they fought the company on another front: service charges. (Their issue was that tickets were to be sold at $20, but Ticketmaster was adding a hidden service fee and basically selling them for $25, and not revealing the fees to buyers.) For those around at the time, let’s put on our thinking caps and remember the amount of grief the band received for pushing back against the machine (I was not one of them, nor was I much of a PJ fan at the time). For lots of people the idea that Pearl Jam, then the biggest band in the world, was fighting for anything financial was generally frowned upon. Aside from service fees, Pearl Jam attempted to sue Ticketmaster for monopolistic practices because of their exclusive, long-term contracts with most major American venues – if you were going to play in arena X then you had to use Ticketmaster as the vendor. The band tried to tour venues not controlled by Ticketmaster, but failed to gain traction and cancelled the tour. Those that laughed at Pearl Jam back then, most because they didn’t understand the completely egregious crap that Ticketmaster was pulling, didn’t really care, “Look at those crazy fucks [grungy band] trying to make more money,” and “I can’t believe they have the audacity…” You know why you didn’t care back then? Because it didn’t have any effect on you all.

Fast forward nearly 20 years, and now you’re trying to buy your tickets for the Lumineers tour, and guess what? You can’t get a ticket at face value to save your live because the Ticketmaster beast is punching you repeatedly in the head, taking your lunch money, and telling the other kids that you’re just a big baby. What do we have now? A company that charges $8-$12 in services fees (usually close to a third of the cost) just so you can print your ticket at home. A company that sells tickets directly to the secondhand market – controlled by them – to maximize profits simply because they can: who could stop them? And, they still have exclusive contracts with most of the quality venues. Oftentimes, events that are ongoing seem like they have zero effect on your live. Sure, concert tickets seem like small potatoes, but it wasn’t like we didn’t see something in Ticketmaster all those years ago. It’s okay, laugh off the small stuff. Don’t worry, it will never come back around and cause you even the slightest ill will…

PS. I managed to get one Lumineers ticket.

welcome

Let’s start off the new year with some trending music. I don’t know if my age takes me to more rootsy music – more and more as the years pass – or there is just more of it out there. First you get The Lumineers, who are in town at the end of the month, thank you very much, doing Stubborn Love. Second, you have John Fullbright, brought to us by X, doing Gawd Above live. Both have been nominated for Americana album of the year so I guess the times of playing out in the woodshed are over. The Lumineers tickets for D.C. are nearly impossible to come by; Fullbright is opening for larger acts on the road in the new year. I hope he gets here to a smaller venue before, well, before...

song

There's new book about addressing the ubiquity of the Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. I won't read the book because any discussion of the song should at least include input from the creator - also, there's probably not much in there that differs from my personal viewing of the song's growth. I never knew much about Cohen until at least 2003; I had come to the song via the Jeff Buckley version around the time of his death in 1997. Being an alt.country junkie from way back, Buckley was an iconic figure in the late 90s and I no doubt bought his CD based on write-ups in magazines like Q and No Depression. Buckley's version was on about a dozen mixtapes/mix-CDs that I used while driving, at the gym, and while sitting around the house. It wasn't until later that Cohen came into my life via X and I came to know the original nearly as well as the cover. ***

The (late) popular success of the song would be a mixed bag for the younger me - someone more interested in keeping songs and artists as my little secrets. I wanted success for them, but only in the sense that I could see them tour and play venues of the size that I liked. Now? I'm considerably different when it comes to music - I'm not as secretive, I have much greater respect for what other people like, and success for any musical artist is a good thing, even Justin Bieber (which thankfully is not yet auto-correctable on my computer). The 45s that I loved when I was young were just as poppy (and vaguely nausea inducing) as what the 'tweens listen to now. The stuff of my college days was as pretentious as everyone else's ("Oh man, the fucking Style Council rules!"), and my tastes now are as varied as the next guy. The point is this, whatever gets you going is good. Great songs - Hallelujah, not Boyfriend (I had to look that up) - being played as tributes and covers ain't a bad thing.

Interesting facts? Bieber and Cohen, both Canadians. The last time we heard Hallelujah? It was being played on a ukulele by a man dressed as an elf following the tabs on his iPhone. See?

*** As for covers, Buckley's version is great, but kd lang's live version is probably the best I've ever heard.