Wednesday, February 24, 2010

If you trip in public...

I did not expect to have to write this post quite yet, but as Fate would have it, here I am. I recently discovered that, under the terms of my internship with WKCO, it will soon be possible for me to begin my own radio show. Now, I certainly have the option to spin music for an hour or two, once a week, for the rest of the semester - and I may very well do that. But my long-term plan for my radio show, definitely beginning next semester, is one much grander...

I've been giving this pitch a lot lately - I can practically give it in my sleep - and it starts like this: "Have you heard of This American Life? Well, on that show, they begin each week by announcing a topic or theme, and they have journalists, artists, commentators, et cetera create stories based (sometimes quite loosely) on that theme." And that's the idea. I'd like to put together a weekly show with contributions from students, faculty, and community members from Kenyon College and the surrounding area. Of course, I'd love to solicit the help of some of my friends and acquaintances from all over, as well. But I want to tell people's stories. I want to give people the chance to record the events of their lives and their most provocative thoughts  in a permanent way. And I want the chance to produce creatively with a deadline, which - because I'm terrible at self-imposing deadlines - might be the only way to vent my creative energy. It will prepare me for my prospective line of work. It will keep me writing. It will allow us to know a bit more about one another. It will be a project that I love.

At the moment, this project is moving forward under the working title Don't Blame the Sidewalk, mainly because that's the best name I've come up with, at the moment. (Other contenders include Life-Sized Map and The Ambitious Re-Write, though I don't think either of those has quite the punch I'm looking for.) And I've been working on some ideas for themes, though I think I'll hold off on those until a later date. But the ideas are stewing, and with a bit of free time coming up and the delivery of a new condenser mic pending, the project is just moments from getting on its feet.

So, to my reading audience: if you have story ideas or thoughts on what I should call my show, let me know. Comment. E-mail me. Facebook me, if you have that option. This show can't happen without creative and temporal contributions. And if you're curious about where I got Don't Blame the Sidewalk, consider how I'd sign out from week-to-week:

"This is Daniel Barnett from WKCO, reminding you: if you trip in public, don't blame the sidewalk."

[Photos: Top Right: Hardcore Microphone courtesy of Latente on Flickr. Bottom Left: Alesis USB Condenser Microphone, aka, the (hopefully-of-decent-quality) mic on its way to my door-step as we speak.]

Monday, February 15, 2010

A Modern Gentleman's Guide to Jazz

This post, reprinted from Wordpress, was originally published 10 July 2009.

A friend of mine recently told me that he wanted to learn more about Jazz music. "I've looked up 'famous jazz musicians' on YouTube, but I want to be able to really listen to it...you know, know something about it. Own it." (Or something like that - I'm paraphrasing). In any case, I've taken the time to look through my Jazz albums - rather, choose that genre in iTunes and pick out a few favorites - and select a sampling of what are some of the Jazz albums I consider to be essential. This is by no means a definitive list. Just a smattering of great artists. So, let's proceed, in no particular order:

1. Miles Davis: Kind of Blue (1959). Two words evoke more emotion and sentimentality in hep-cats young and old than any other: "Miles" and "Davis." So, I thought this would be an appropriate place to start. This album falls between the conventional swinging of Miles' early years and the "crazy" experimental jam sessions of later albums (ie, Bitches Brew). My personal favorite is opening track "So What," which combines a minimalist piano intro from Bill Evans, smooth brush work on the snare and ride from Jimmy Cobb, the devastating one-two punch of Coltrane and Adderly on tenor and alto sax, and Davis' punctuated, smoky delivery on the horn. In my humble opinion, this is Davis in his prime.

(Further listening: If you're interested in hearing Davis' aforementioned "conventional swinging," check out Birth of the Cool (1949) or Steamin' with the Miles Davis Quintet (1961). If you're intrigued to find out more about his "experimental jam sessions," look into Miles in the Sky (1968) or the iconic Bitches Brew (1969).

2. Charlie Parker: Talkin' Bird (1999). No list would be complete without at least one selection from Parker. The Bird is every alto saxophonist's (and ever dealer's) hero, the virtuoso force behind the bebop movement. No-one could tame the alto so well, especially when blowing in the high register. Parker was so influential that a New York jazz club was named in his honer in his lifetime: Birdland. Talkin' Bird culls gems of Parker performances with a host of jazz giants. Bend an ear to "Lester Leaps In" and the soaring solos of Parker, his mentor Lester Young, and Roy Eldridge on trumpet.

(Further listening: For a well-rounded overview of Parker's all-too-short career, check out Bird Symbols (1961). Released six years after the legend's death, this album features Parker's best and most well-known songs. For a rousing collaboration with Miles Davis, kick it with "A Night in Tunisia"; also, make sure to give a rapt listen to "Yardbird Suite," regarded by many to be Parker's defining track.)

3. Medeski, Martin & Wood: Last Chance to Dance Trance (Perhaps) (1999). Quite the departure from the last two selections. This trio of bass, percussion, and keys grooves through bar-after-bar of sheer brilliance ("Chubb Sub" features some of the most rambunctious organ solos I've ever heard), but can also invoke the occasional furrow of the brow (or, the "what in Hell was that?!" moment); therefore, they're something of an acquired taste. However, I think you'll find that MM&W is highly accessible to both casual jazz fans and urban hipster know-it-all's.

(Further listening: If you enjoy Last Chance to Trance Dance (Perhaps), look into Medeski, Martin & Wood's 2006 collaboration with John Scofield, Out Louder. This album, the first produced by MM&W's own Indirecto Records label, features more what you've come to love about the group, made more interesting by the addition of John Scofield's guitar. For a straight-up jazz quartet romp, sample "Little Walter Rides Again"; for a moving cover of a Lennon/McCartney tune, bask in the beauty of "Julia.")

4. The Dave Brubeck Quartet: Time Out (1959). Although jazz pianist Dave Brubeck and alto saxophonist (and fellow World War II veteran) Paul Desmond had released several albums prior to Time Out, it was this album that would see the formation of what is considered to be the "classic" Dave Brubeck Quartet, with Eugene Wright on double bass and Joe Morello on the kit. (Brubeck admitted at the time that without this unique combination of talent - particularly Morello on drums - Time Out wouldn't have been possible). Time Out's overiding theme is the use of time signatures not common to jazz (mainly waltz and double waltz, but also 9/8 and, most famously, 5/4), and the album features some of the Quartet's most recognizable numbers, as well as several tunes that have become jazz standards. For seamless transistions between waltz and common time fused with simple melodies, sample "Three to Get Ready." To impress (or bore) your un-musical friends with the ability to count off a song in 5/4, or just to enjoy a gin-and-tonic at day's end, put on the legendaryTake Five and jive to Morello's tight rhythms, Desmond's silky sax, and Brubeck's hypnotic fielding of the ebonies and ivories.

(Further listening: To further enjoy the "classic" Dave Brubeck Quartet, pick up The Quartet - which features another of Brubeck's contributions to the canon of the jazz standard, "In Your Own Sweet Way" - or At Carnegie Hall (1963), which showcases the Quartet live and at their prime - and includes a much rowdier rendition of "Take Five.")

5. Stan Getz & João Gilberto: Getz/Gilberto (1964). In the same year that Ed Sullivan introduced The Beatles to the American public from CBS Studio 50, American saxophonist Stan Getz and Brazilian guitarist João Gilberto (affectionately called "O Rei da Bossa") introduced bossa nova to these United States. Not only does this album prominently feature the piano and compositions of renowned Antonio Carlos Jobim, but also the internationally-alluring "Girl from Ipanema," sung by the inspiration herself, Astrud Gilberto. This sensual music is like a steamy night downtown or a lilac-scented grasp of the loins. If you can't clear the bases with this seminal record playing in the bedroom, repeat triple-A before returning to the majors.

(Notes: Rather than suggest further listening - Getz and Gilberto only recorded two albums together - I thought I'd offer two essential bits of trivia for special use in conversation. First, Getz/Gilberto is one of only two jazz albums ever to win a Grammy for Record of the Year; the other was Herbie Hancock's River: The Joni Letters in 2008. Second, most people avoid bringing up João Gilberto in conversation because they haven't the foggiest idea how to pronounce his first name. João, Portuguese in origin, is pronounced "zhwaun," the "n" being strictly nasal.)

6. Bill Evans: Further Conversations with Myself (1967). Miles Davis once said of Bill Evans: "Bill had this quiet fire that I loved on piano. The way he approached it, the sound he got, was like crystal notes or sparkling water cascading down from some clear waterfall. He plays the piano the way it should be played." Using a (then controversial) technique he developed during production of Conversations with Myself (1963), Evans overdubbed three different but corresponding piano tracks for each song, producing a solo-piano album richer and fuller than anyone had ever heard before. Revel in this technique used to full effect in the rambling call-and-answer solos of the haunting "The Shadow of You."

(Further listening: For more of Bill Evans at his finest, lend an ear to the aforementioned Conversations with Myself, which earned Evans his first Grammy award in 1964. Personal favorites include the energetic runs of "Blue Monk" and the sweeping arppeggios highlighting the minimalistic lead of "Round Midnight.")

7. Charles Mingus: Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus (1963). This barrel-chested bassist/composer played with all the big names and had an indomitable, fiery spirit. He took his impeccable musical acumen and short temper to excess in the studio, storming out of sessions if bandmates flubbed a single note. Distrustful of whites, he was married four times (thrice to white women). His headstrong behavior was legendary, and in his heydey, he busted more nay-saying onlookers than Sean Penn. Mingus said that his music was "angry, yet it's real, because it knows it's angry." Listen to a stand-up bass press the band into intensity on "II B.S." or sit slyly in the foreground as horns belt sexy heartache and minor keys in "IX Love."

(Further listening: For more of the stormy-tempered Mingus at work, take a listen to Mingus Ah Um (1959). Bebop and scat along to frantic tunes such as "Bird Calls" or "Open Letter to Duke," or close your eyes and drink in the sultry "Self-Portrait in Three Colors." Oh, and to the listeners at home: five points to those of you who can pick out tracks from this album that Mingus later re-recorded under different titles on Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus; ten points to students of Latin who chuckled at the album's title.)

8. Django Reinhardt: Jazz in Paris: Nuages (2003). This pioneer is often considered the finest jazz guitarist. A revered European icon, Reinhardt was born a Belgian Gypsy and developed his style in Parisian bals-musettes (smoky, underground cafés). Embracing his Gypsy roots, Reinhardt could neither read nor write music, but had boundless innate talent and was comfortable rearranging to the Jazz idiom the various genres that influenced his work. While sleeping in a caravan as a young man, he accidentally knocked over a candle and suffered serious injuries to his left hand. Undeterred, Reinhardt patented a two-fingered playing style, using his injured ring and pinky fingers only sparingly to bar chords. This 1953 recording marks Reinhardt's departure from the acoustic guitar of his youth and his experimentation with a new Gibson that allowed him further flights of fancy not only on the fretboard but tonally. Feel the damp coolness of the bals-musettes in "Nuages," or tap your foot to the unbelievably infectious "Brazil," which I guarantee you'll catch yourself whistling on occasion for the rest of your life.

(Further listening: For more bebop with your Jazz guitar and the addition of a brass section, pick up Jazz in Paris: Swing 48, a companion to the album above. Listen for the aforementioned acoustic guitar coo in "For Sentimental Reasons," and pay attention to the marked changes in "Night and Day," which the observant listener will recognize from Jazz in Paris: Nuages.)

9. Marc Ribot y Los Cubanos Postizos: The Prosthetic Cubans (1998). I'll admit, this list is thusfar full of phenomenal band leaders, pianists, trumpeteers, saxophonists, and guitarists. But perhaps you're looking for something a bit...shall we say, spicier? Well, Marc Ribot intends to give it to you with swirling guitar that meshes with congas, percoussion, and organ to sweep you out of the Jazz clubs of Harlem and into the steamy cabanas of Cuba. Pulsing with Afro-Cuban grooves and Latin rhythms, Ribot's arrangements sound like a sprawling urban fiesta, complete with the occasional enthusiastic shout from a chorus of party-goers. Siesta with "Aurora en Pekín" ("Dawn in Beijing") playing softly in the background to dream of a cool island night spent in a hammock, or cut a rug to the festive "Como Se Goza En El Barrio" ("As is Enjoyed in the Neighborhood").

(Further listening: For more of Los Cubanos Postizos, check out ¡Muy Divertido!. Swagger along to "El Gaucho Rojo" ("The Red Gaucho"), or the heavy picking and boisterous tuba of "Obsesión" (...if you can't figure that one out, work on your vocabulary).)

10. John Coltrane: Coltrane (1962). In his twelve-year long career as leader and tenor saxophonist, Coltrance produced around 50 albums and acted as sideman to some of the genre's most well-known performers, notably Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk. Starting in bebop and swing, Coltrane later helped pioneer free Jazz. As his career progressed, Coltrane explored Islam, Hinduism, the Kaballah, Jiddu Krishnamurti, African religions, and even the teachings of Plato and Aristotle - he is, in fact, considered a saint by the African Orthodox Church - and as a result, his work took on a much more spirtual dimension. Coltrane, released in 1962 by Impulse! Records (and not to be confused with the 1957 Prestige Records release of the same name), is the first to solely feature Coltrane's "classic" quartet, composed of himself, McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones, and Jimmy Garrison. Coltrane hints at the saxophonist's early years (refer to "Out of This World"), but balances out the bebop with balmy rhythms and deeply-introspective solos (see "Tunji").

(Further listening: For Coltrane's first album completely showcasing original compositions (including some his most well-known tracks), consider Giant Steps (1959); give a close listen to Blue Train (1957) and try to pick out the first examples of the chord substitution cycles (often called "Coltrane cycles") which bear his moniker; to experience the transcendance of the spiritual undertones inherent in Coltrane's later work, assume the Lotus position and chant with Meditations (1966) or Expressions (1967).)

11. Duke Ellington & Coleman Hawkins: Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins (1962). I couldn't think of anyone better that Edward Kennedy "Duke" Ellington to draw this canon to a close. This extraordinary 1962 session was the realization of a promise made thirty years earlier between the maestro, Duke Ellington, and the father of the tenor saxophone, Coleman Hawkins, that they would some day make a record together. Already a vaunted bandleader for thirty years, Ellington opens an arena in which Hawkins can shine, in tandem with Lawrence Brown on trombone. Besides their superb taste in fine hats, this album memorializes a juicy collaboration. After hearing the infectious melody, scatting, and piano-anchored solos of "Limbo Jazz," you'll be humming it until day's end.

(Further listening: The enormity of Ellington's influence and renown is matched only by his prolificacy: it was not unusual for Ellington to produce between five and ten albums a year, and over the course of nearly fifty years...well, suffice it to say it makes my job of naming one - or even a few - follow-up albums quite difficult. However, if you enjoyed The Duke's collaboration with Hawkins, you may also appreciate the product of Ellington's partnership with John Coltrane in 1963, simply entitled Duke Ellington & John Coltrane.)

This is WKCO, you're on the air...

"Hello, you're listening to WKCO: Kenyon College Radio. This is Daniel Barnett filling in for Alex Murphy. Tonight, I'm going to be bringing you songs in every color of the rainbow; that is, songs which feature colors in their lyrics, titles, albums, artists, et cetera. Up first we have Jimi Hendrix with Purple Haze. Enjoy."

I looked down at the soundboard and I realized the microphone was not on, and that I had been speaking into a muted, aluminum tube for the last minute or so. No-one had heard me. I chuckled, took a deep breath, brought the mic up, and began again - this time, without the nervousness of the initial lead-in. I cued up Hendrix and got to work, furiously putting together a set-list for the two-hour slot. It appeared as though I had a long night ahead of me.

Last night, I hosted my first radio show. I began interning with WKCO, my college's radio station, about a month ago, and I'm incredibly excited to be delving into the world of broadcasting for the first time. In the midst of an uneventful evening yesterday, Alex, a senior working on his thesis project, sent out an e-mail to all associated with the station, asking for someone to cover his 8:00-10:00 PM slot that night. It was 7:30. Being one of the new kids on the block at WKCO, I didn't know whether or not I could accept that invitation, but I was chomping at the bit to do so. Knowing that there were a couple of DJ's working at the station, I walked down and joined them in the midst of their show. After a few minutes of talking between songs, I brought up the fact that Alex wouldn't be taking up the reigns, and that I was wondering...

About five minutes later, I found myself running back to my room to pick up my laptop so that I had some familiar music on hand. I called up a friend of mine: "Kelly, what are you doing RIGHT NOW? I need a co-host." I arrived at 8:05, huffing and puffing but with gear in tow, and set up. By 8:10, I was on the air, playing Purple Haze, Yellow Submarine, Sky Blue Sky, Greenback Dollar, The Black Keys, et cetera. Once my co-host, and a few mutual friends, showed up, there were iPods floating back and forth with songs, and me switching between digital devices with increasing ease. We joked around between songs, justified playing songs containing no color - at one point, we played Fleetwood Mac because, well, Stevie Nicks sounds like a goat, and goats can be white or grey or brown or... - but generally, just having a blast. We bantered and prated back and forth, and at one point, my friend Brian even read a monologue on air in the voice of Alan Rickman. I could go on and on, but A) you probably just had to be there; and B) suffice it to say, we put on quite the production.

At 10 o'clock, I packed up my laptop and left the seat open for the next DJs. The night had been a blast, and left me looking forward to the next time someone needed a substitute or a partner. Before leaving, I checked the station's computer to see, just out of curiosity, how many people had heard this hap-hazard and far-too-enjoyable show I had just produced:

There were only seven people listening.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Be Crazy Dumbsaint of the Mind


This post, reprinted from Wordpress, was originally published 10 July 2009.

In one of my fits of insomnia, I stumbled upon this list of "beliefs and techniques" for the modern writer as outlined by Jack Kerouac. While you may not be the biggest fan of Kerouac, in general, at least scan through the list and see if anything piques your interest. Some of the tidbits are miraculous (no. 19 is a personal favorite), while others leave you scratching your head (for example, what in Hell is a "dumbsaint"?). Some of these pieces of advice, I think, may be as well applied to one's own life as to one's writing.


Belief and Technique for Modern Prose by Jack Kerouac
  1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
  2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
  3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
  4. Be in love with yr life
  5. Something that you feel will find its own form
  6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
  7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
  8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
  9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
  10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
  11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
  12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
  13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
  14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
  15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
  16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
  17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
  18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
  19. Accept loss forever
  20. Believe in the holy contour of life
  21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
  22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
  23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
  24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
  25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
  26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
  27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
  28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
  29. You're a Genius all the time
  30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

On My Betrayal - or - Blogger: The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship?

It has finally happened. It began two years ago with G-mail, for which I abandoned Yahoo! mail. I set up a YouTube account when Google bought it. I started using Google Maps instead of Mapquest, Google Calendar for all of my anal-retentive, color-coded planning needs. Most recently, I switched to Google Chrome instead of Firefox. I'm next-to-ecstatic to check out Google's new operating system, Chromium, when it drops at the end of the year. Hell, I'm even looking into Google Buzz at the moment, for what it's worth. And all of these have been healthy decisions, I think. But there has been one facet of my life which Google had yet to control: my blogging. Well, today, that changes, too.

I have really been getting into the whole "blog" thing, as of late. Not only mine, but many others, as well. And as I surfed through the various self-published journals across the Interweb, I noticed what became a disturbing trend to me: that many, if not most of them, were on Blogger. yournamehere.blogspot.com. Each blog's name preceded by that little orange "B." That is to say, affiliated with Google. I have only been blogging - I don't really like that term, but it's what I have to work with, for the time - for only 6 months, or so, but I've become loyal to my Wordpress blog. I've learned the in's and out's of the publishing tool. Uploaded photos. Written articles. Tagged and reread and edited, where necessary. Linked to other sites. I even inadvertently convinced a friend or two to sign up and start writing.

But, Google had yet another product to dangle in front of my face, the proverbial "carrot before the horse." So, like a married man experiencing thoughts of infidelity, I told myself: What can it hurt to just look? And now...well, here I am. I have changed camps. I have betrayed Wordpress. And good riddance. I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

In the weeks and months to come, I will be posting my thoughts and insights - whatever good they may be - here, and reprinting some of my old work on this blog, as well. So stay tuned.