Displaying news from 1 November 2005 to 1 December 2005.
the personal website- currency of our fragile digitopolis- has ensnared a few more of my wonderful, fine-feathered, and finally 'in-the-loop' friends recently.
just days ago, a personal website for the great jared schonig has been issued by webdesigner pj kelly and it's been tearing through visitors regularly since. (jared's drumming can make even the most dandy of us shout and daven uncontrollably.)
after months and months of teasing (take a cue, mike ross!), www.mattblanchard.com is finally live. great sound clips, existential musings, and a clean look, worthy of the boom design group.
a big virtual welcome to matt and jared!
now two more sets of parents have a way to ensure that their child is alive without picking up a phone!
what a world...
"oh, don't worry, i'll just have my website get in touch with your website... they'll figure it out. i'll be listening to my iPod if you need me (i don't see why you would)." (with serenity)
for the ever-pulsating list of links, (and a cutesy editorial for each) go here.
for those of you unable to keep up with the deluge of respect reviews, check out the press page for a small conglomeration!
whilst leafing through some old manuscript notebooks from my college years, i came across an heinrich boll quote, the source of which i was not thorough enough to jot down, scratched below a transcription of a john zorn compostion called "mahshav."
"yellow like the flames in a drunk man's brain, or pale green like the pain you felt when you woke up in the morning and looked at the face of your sleeping wife, a child's face, whose sole protection of life was those frail pink lids, fragile little covers which she had to open as soon as the children began to cry."
a fortnight ago, a young man, dressed as an effeminate, sequin-braced, deep blue-robed son-of-a-god, was led, in front of a cheering mob, by two roman soldier impersonators, to a bright white cross, where he, with a fullness of voice one would unexpectedly expect from a man who had just gone through what he had just gone through, sang the words "better pray for yourself."
the young man was rufus wainwright; the cheering mob a conglomeration of new york elitists and hipsters; the young hero's burden? a swollen set of vocal cords, refusing to be easily controlled, and an incredibly demanding set list.
the concert had begun with great force: rufus singing his lungs out tune after tune, for about 6 tunes. then, after joking around that he was dancing so much because his pants had such an incredible flare (that he felt like a clydesdale, which he now knows a lot about; now that he summers in montauk), he mentioned that the next song he would sing was "very demanding" and, sarcastically, that he appreciated everyone watching him slaughter himself. the song was "go or go ahead," one of the many gems from his album "want one," and it is a bitch of a song to sing (not that i, in one, or two, of my less precocious moments, have attempted it, in, say, a stairwell, or a steam filled shower...)
and after singing it, his voice went, but he went ahead.
song after song, for the remainder of the concert did rufus push and strain, swoop and swoon; trying anything to appease the gods and get his orpheatic voice back.
while i sat transfixed, feeling like i was watching a boxing match in which one of the boxers' arms fell off, rufus was playing it off with gentle humor and candor. acknowledging his "funky" voice, he cracked, "i think it's kind of interesting..."
and when he wasn't sliding off of choked notes with a slightly embarrased "woah...," or grabbing running starts to scoop up to his shining high notes, he was brilliant.
by the time he had reached the jesus schtik, he had a good handle on what could've appeared as vocal divets, and was able to drive through such toughies as "beautiful child" and leonard cohen's "hallelujah."
if rufus' music doesn't have the folk flexibility of his father's, he does, at very least, carry on loudon's ability to roll with the punches that surely come with a great musician's challenging repertoire.
i just updated the photos page with pics from jen and my california trip! (they're under "pictures josh took with a camera II")
in addition, yesterday, in grand central station (in grand central fashion), i randomly ran into my friend phil weinrobe, and he gave me a lesson in the art of the full windsor knot.
what a world...
"hey man, i thought you were dead!"
funny thing happened on my south ferry bound 1 train yesterday. when we got to 34th street, the conductor said, triumphantly:
this is 34th street, penn station, home of the world's most famous arena, madison square garden!
how wonderful subway rides would be if all conductors took such care in describing their stops!
the respect sextet is back in business this december with a small tour, hitting upstate new york hotspots. if you live upstate, please come and bring your family and your family's family. also, you can support the band anytime by purchasing a cd right from the website!
for info as it becomes available, please keep an ear and an eye to the events page.
ah, october 31st...
like 'april in paris' and 'moonlight on the ganges,' halloween in new york has such a sweeping excitement about it (such that i can't believe no one ever wrote a broadway tune about it...). on the other hand, few things make me feel less comfortable than walking down 14th street amidst a friendly mob of vampires, cats, devils, pumpkins, skeletons, and, of course, the recently baptized scary costumes: 'slutty baseball player,' 'slutty airline hostess,' and 'slutty medievel warrior.'
what a holiday.
worse than the relative unease in the evening, wading through the ghoulish parade crowding 14th street, was the experience on the subway on the way to work that morning. a born-again christian scolded the manhattan-bound 5 train from nevins to 42nd street, railing against halloween and all it stood for, and praising jesus instead. uncomfortably squished in the commuter-filled train car, i had no escape, and despite my best efforts to drown her out by internal oral reading, her shouting persisted. as i squeezed my way out of the train at grand central station, i imagined a huge group of people, dressed for halloween as jesus, pushing their way into the train, pressing themselves ever-so-savior-like up to the evangelist, listening intently to her; beaming... ("hey! you were born again too? neat!")
i didn't dress up this year. well, not intentionally anyway. these days, since i'm working at a corporate establishment, my costume has been chosen for me: slacks, button-down shirt, tie, dress shoes. not the most original costume, but it sure gives me a scare in the morning.
moral of halloween this year:
if you want your friends and neighbors to swoon,
put your kid in a pumpkin costume.
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