7/4

Yep.

I had the same reservations. When I see Hammer's name with el p next to it, I get a little nervous. Oh come on, you should be thinking Mahavishnu and even when he's playing with Elvin, it should be a plus.

Have a good un. You too? Dang!

Have a good un. Seems like we have plethora of birthdays today!

Have a good un. Seems like we have festival of birthdays today!

Works fine for me.

Can't do it. I'm too burnt out from working. Although I live close to NYC and I popped in to town to make a brief cameo with a customer, then I had to zip back here to work on my Dads computer. When I got here about 2:30, I've been on the phone taking care of crap and trouble shooting shoftware that was working fine a year ago all afternoon. And there's more of this in the morning, so no trips to Philly today. Maybe I can hit one of the other two Philly gigs.

I think Jaco was too wrapped up in being a manic depressive.

Dan is the police around here. Snap to it.

Happy Belated Birthday Rod!

October 1, 2006 David Lynch Returns: Expect Moody Conditions, With Surreal Gusts By DENNIS LIM LOS ANGELES TO hear him tell it, David Lynch has spent the last five years killing the thing he loves, for fear that it will kill him first. “The sky’s the limit with digital,” he said in a recent conversation, his voice approaching foghorn pitch. “Film is like a dinosaur in a tar pit. People might be sick to hear that because they love film, just like they loved magnetic tape. And I love film. I love it!” He contorted his face into an expression that suggested pain more than love. “It’s so beautiful,” he said. But “I would die if I had to work like that again.” Not one for understatement or half measures, Mr. Lynch takes a giant leap into the post-celluloid future with the three-hour “Inland Empire,” his first feature since “Mulholland Drive” in 2001, his 10th overall and the first to be shot on the humble medium of digital video. The movie had its premiere last month at the Venice Film Festival, where Mr. Lynch, who turned 60 in January, was awarded a Golden Lion for career achievement. It will have its first North American showings at the New York Film Festival on Oct. 8 and 9. On this clear Los Angeles morning, his first at home after three weeks in Europe, Mr. Lynch was knocking back a huge cappuccino in his favorite corner of his painting studio, a scatter of stale cigarette butts on the cement floor around his Aeron chair. “It’s actually cleaner that I thought it would be,” he said, looking around. The sunlit atelier is perched atop one of the three sleek concrete structures that make up his compound in the Hollywood Hills. He lives in one building; another is the office of his production company, Asymmetrical. This one, the hub of creative activity, served first as a location for his 1997 film “Lost Highway” and was later converted into a production facility with a recording and editing studio and a screening room. (Mr. Lynch’s chair, off limits to anyone else, can be identified by the sizable ashtray on the armrest.) The moods and objects throughout inevitably bring to mind that most resonant of eponymous adjectives: Lynchian. Corridors and stairwells are minimally lighted. One room has the signature red curtains. Propped against one wall is an Abstract Expressionist canvas by Mr. Lynch, a brown expanse with a violent splotch of blue and the inscription “Bob loves Sally until she is blue in the face.” A photograph of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the Transcendental Meditation guru, sits on a conference table, sunlight illuminating a single cobweb that hangs from its gold frame. Lately Mr. Lynch has emerged as a keen proponent of Transcendental Meditation, which he said he has practiced twice a day since 1973 without missing a session. Last year he established the David Lynch Foundation for Consciousness-Based Education and World Peace with the goal of raising $7 billion to create “universities of peace.” He also went on a campus tour, promoting the benefits of “diving within” with the help of a meditating assistant hooked up to an electroencephalograph. His other consuming passion of recent years has been the Internet. Mr. Lynch grasped the potential of streaming media earlier and took to it with greater enthusiasm than filmmakers half his age. His sprawling Web site, davidlynch.com, begun in 2001, carries merchandise (mugs, photos, alarming ring tones) and subscriber-only content (original music, experimental vignettes, the animated series “Dumbland”). On the home page he delivers the daily weather report for Los Angeles direct to Webcam. As it turns out, some of Mr. Lynch’s online experiments found their way into “Inland Empire,” which, despite his claims for the speed of direct video, took three years to make. It was shot in fits and starts and, for the longest time, on his own dime and without a unifying vision. At the outset, “I never saw any whole, W-H-O-L-E,” he said. “I saw plenty of holes, H-O-L-E-S. But I didn’t really worry. I would get an idea for a scene and shoot it, get another idea and shoot that. I didn’t know how they would relate.” Only after the project was well under way did he contact the French studio Canal Plus, which financed the transformation of “Mulholland Drive” from a rejected television pilot into a feature film. Canal Plus signed on to “Inland Empire” even though, Mr. Lynch said, “I told them two things: ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m shooting on D.V.’ ” Eventually the grand design revealed itself. In interviews Mr. Lynch has repeatedly advanced a poetic, democratic notion of ideas as independent of the artist, waiting to be plucked from the ether, or, in his preferred analogy, reeled in: he’s working on a book about the creative process titled “Catching the Big Fish.” With “Mulholland Drive,” he said the eureka moment came while he was meditating. With “Eraserhead,” his indelible debut in 1977, inspiration came while reading the Bible. (He declined to specify the passage.) There was no equivalent lightning bolt on “Inland Empire,” but in due course “something started to talk to me,” he said. “It was as if it was talking to me all along but I didn’t know it.” A thoroughly instinctual filmmaker, Mr. Lynch could never be accused of overthinking things. Or of overtalking them. In discussions of his work he reverts to affable stonewalling tactics, deflecting detailed or analytical probes with a knowing vagueness. The vertiginous “Inland Empire” is sure to provoke questions about meaning, literal and metaphoric. Still without a United States distributor, this may be his most avant-garde offering since “Eraserhead.” In tone and structure the film resembles the cosmic free fall of the mind-warping final act in “Mulholland Drive.” “Inland Empire” refers on one level to the landlocked region east of Los Angeles but also evokes the vast, murky kingdom of the unconscious. Like “Lost Highway” and “Mulholland Drive,” the new movie is hard-wired into its protagonist’s disintegrating psyche, a condition that somehow prompts convulsive dislocations in time and space. Laura Dern, who worked with Mr. Lynch on “Blue Velvet” and “Wild at Heart,” plays an actress who lands a coveted role, only to learn that the movie, a remake, may be cursed: the original was aborted when both leads were murdered. Actor becomes character. Fiction infects reality. The various narrative strands — plagued by déjà vu, doppelgängers and the menacing ambient drone of Mr. Lynch’s sound design — start to unravel. Shuttling between California and Poland, the movie folds in a Baltic radio play, a Greek chorus of skimpily dressed young women and a ghostly sitcom featuring a rabbit-headed cast and an arbitrary laugh track. Asked to elaborate on some of the film’s themes, Mr. Lynch was illuminating, if not always in expected ways. On his apparent conception of the self as fragmentary, he said: “The big self is mondo stable. But the small self — we’re blowing about like dry leaves in the wind.” Regarding the essential elusiveness of time, he declared, “It’s going backward and forward, and it’s slippery.” He brought up wormholes, invoked the theories of the quantum physicist (and fellow meditator) John Hagelin and recounted a moment of déjà vu that overcame him while making “The Elephant Man.” “There was a feeling of a past thing and it’s holding, and the next instant I slipped forward” — he made a sound somewhere between a slurp and a whoosh — “and I see this future.” A nightmare vision of the dream factory, “Inland Empire” belongs to the lineage of Hollywood bloody valentines that runs from “Sunset Boulevard” to “Mulholland Drive.” In one scene a character, stabbed in the gut with a screwdriver, runs down Hollywood Boulevard, leaving a gory trail on the Walk of Fame. Like “Mulholland Drive,” the film is at once a tribute to actors, especially those chewed up and spit out by the industry, and a study of the metaphysics of their craft. Acting, Mr. Lynch suggests, is a kind of out-of-body experience. Like Naomi Watts in “Mulholland,” Ms. Dern summons an almost frightening intensity in a performance that requires her to inhabit three (if not more) overlapping parts, lapsing in and out of a Southern drawl. “I thought of it as playing a broken or dismantled person, with these other people leaking out of her brain,” Ms. Dern said in a telephone interview. She said she held as a mental touchstone Catherine Deneuve’s portrait of psychosis in Roman Polanski’s “Repulsion” and noted that the stop-start shoot had its advantages: “It’s unbelievably freeing. You’re not sure where you’re going or even where you’ve come from. You can only be in the moment.” One of the pluses of video was that the moment could be extended. Despite the overall lack of continuity, the lightweight camera and longer takes allowed for more freedom in individual scenes. “When you don’t have to stop and spend two hours relighting, you’re just able to boogie together,” Mr. Lynch said. The genesis of “Inland Empire” was a 14-page monologue he wrote for Ms. Dern. They shot it once, in a 70-minute take, on a set built in his painting studio. The scene is carved up and strewn throughout the film but remains its dark heart. Watching “Inland Empire,” which makes little attempt to temper the harshness of video, it’s hard not to miss the tactile richness of Mr. Lynch’s celluloid images. Instead of a state-of-the-art high-definition camera, he used the Sony PD-150, a common midrange model. “Everybody says, ‘But the quality, David, it’s not so good,’ and that’s true,” Mr. Lynch said. “But it’s a different quality. It reminds me of early 35-millimeter film. You see different things. It talks to you differently.” Mary Sweeney, Mr. Lynch’s longtime producer (and ex-wife), called the new film a return to the obsessive experimentation of “Eraserhead,” which he also shot piecemeal over several years. “David got very excited about the ways the new technology could liberate him,” she said. “I think it took him back to a pure and fearless way of working.” Mr. Lynch also stressed the importance of fearlessness. “Fear is like a tourniquet on the big tube of creative flow,” he said. And thanks to meditation, “negative things decrease,” he added. “You get more ideas. You catch them at a deeper level.” The dissonance between this upbeat philosophy and the abysmal terror of his films is not lost on him. “You can understand depression much more when you’re not depressed,” he said. “You go to this ocean of knowingness. That’s what you use.” His body of work may be, short of Hitchcock’s, the most psychoanalyzed in film history, but Mr. Lynch once forswore psychotherapy, fearing it might inhibit his creativity. Most things, as he sees it, are best left uninterrogated. “As soon as you put things in words, no one ever sees the film the same way,” he said at one point, when the line of questioning turned too specific. “And that’s what I hate, you know. Talking — it’s real dangerous.”

A damm fine performance and an excelent recording, I've been spinning it quite a bit.

September 29, 2006 Steve Reich, Sunny? Well, It Is His Birthday By ANNE MIDGETTE, NYT Steve Reich has moved to the country. For decades this composer has been a quintessential voice of downtown New York. And to mark his 70th birthday, on Tuesday, the city’s leading cultural institutions are joining forces in an unprecedented celebratory collaboration, Steve Reich@70, offering a month (more or less) of his music at Carnegie Hall, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Lincoln Center and elsewhere. But Mr. Reich left Lower Manhattan for Westchester earlier this summer. And he is very, very happy about it. “It’s really a pleasure,” he said by phone last week. “I used to be a composer, but now I’m into home improvement.” “Sunny” is hardly an adjective most people would have applied to Mr. Reich for most of his life. Words like “intense,” “driven” and “caffeinated” came more readily to mind. But sunny, it seems, he has become, waxing lyrical about his new house (built by the Modernist architect William N. Breger) and as excited about the coming celebrations as, well, a boy waiting for his birthday. And this new warmth may be reflected in his music. Mr. Reich has always been a distinctive voice. His classification as a minimalist, grouped with Philip Glass, has come to seem, with the years, increasingly irrelevant. You could say that Mr. Reich stripped music down to its bare essentials in seminal works like “Clapping Music” (1972), written for two performers and their hands, or “Drumming” (1971), an hour-plus piece written entirely for percussion instruments. But even those pieces, spare in means, have their own eloquence. Elements have steadily been added over the years: more instruments, human voices (with “Tehillim” in 1981), more visuals, more stories. The last have been a particular feature of Mr. Reich’s collaboration with his wife, the video artist Beryl Korot, which has produced ambitious music theater works like “The Cave” (1990-3), an exploration of Jewish and Muslim beliefs, or “Three Tales” (2002), which challenged a range of attitudes among scientists. Meanwhile the music has gotten not only fuller, but freer. “There’s a different generosity,” said Jennifer Bilfield, who was president of Mr. Reich’s publishers, Boosey & Hawkes, before moving in August to become artistic and executive director of Stanford Lively Arts in California. “His writing is more expansive. ‘Proverb’ ” — from 1995 — “is a piece that struck me as a very decisive shift. There’s a different intimacy, an inner quiet that’s very moving.” It was Ms. Bilfield who had the idea of getting Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center and the Brooklyn Academy to collaborate on Mr. Reich’s birthday, an idea nobody else thought would work. The three presenters are, after all, competitors in an increasingly tough market. But Mr. Reich had close relationships with all of them, and Ms. Bilfield was already braced for one of them to call her and ask about doing a festival for his birthday, which would keep the other two out of the picture. “It was really to pre-empt what would have been a more awkward discussion,” Ms. Bilfield said. “I basically picked up the phone and said, ‘Can you imagine what a great energy it would be, what a great example for the presenting world?’ And each institution had a different relationship with Steve. When the parties came to the table, there was no tug of war, not at all.” The Brooklyn Academy will focus on dance, including the American premiere of “Variations for Vibes, Piano and Strings,” commissioned for the choreographer Akram Khan, which will open the festival on the actual birthday. Carnegie Hall will concentrate on instrumental music, including a training workshop and the American premiere of Mr. Reich’s latest work, “Daniel Variations,” written in memory of the murdered Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl. And Lincoln Center presents vocal works, including three performances of “The Cave.” “Daniel Variations,” co-commissioned by the Daniel Pearl Foundation, interweaves texts from the Old Testament Book of Daniel and Pearl’s own writings. The Book of Daniel, Mr. Reich pointed out, is set in Babylon — present-day Iraq. The piece blends in a string quartet, which at the words “My name is Daniel Pearl” takes off, Mr. Reich said, in a major key. (Mr. Pearl was a violinist.) “It’s a very un-Steve Reich-like, expressive piece of music,” Mr. Reich said. As if to warn his fans not to expect too much more of this baroque phase, he added: “The last few works have been very open, very expressive, very free, very different. Now I’ve kind of got a yen to go medieval.” But his inner romantic may already have been outed. For his 70th birthday Nonesuch has released a new box set, “Phases” (Nonesuch 79962-2), with a selection of Mr. Reich’s greatest hits, most of them in the recordings made with the ensemble he founded in 1966, Steve Reich and Musicians, which he refers to as “original instruments.” The performances are very fine. But it’s fascinating to listen to recordings made by another group a generation later. Mr. Reich’s ensemble focuses on presenting the composition; the younger group, Alarm Will Sound, crack performers all, also focuses on interpreting it. On that band’s CD of “Tehillim” and “The Desert Music” (Cantaloupe Music CA21009), Mr. Reich’s music takes on a whole new dimension of ravishing beauty, beauty that was in there all along. And Mr. Reich embraces the idea that other people are performing his works, and performing them so well. “What impresses me,” he said, “is the ease that younger musicians have playing my music, not only right, but idiomatically.” On a recent trip to Latvia he heard a performance of “Music for 18 Musicians” (1974-76). “These people were burning,” he said. “I wasn’t sure where Latvia was, but they knew where I was.” Sitting in Pound Ridge, still surrounded by packing boxes, in his striking new house (Mr. Breger was also the architect of the Civic Center Synagogue, where Mr. Reich and Ms. Korot were married), he sounded, well, downright expansive. And his goals, for once, seemed perfectly simple. “What do I want?” he said. “I want people to love the music, not to feel, ‘What, him again?’ It seems that the music is holding up over time. That’s the most gratifying thing.”

Amazon has it for pre-order, but doesn't have a release date. I guess there were some kind of problems finishing the publication. Looks interesting.

recent purchases since last June: Allman Bros. - American University, 12/13/70 Allman Bros. Band, The - Beginnings Allman Bros. Band, The - Eat A Peach Andress, Tuck - Reckless Precision Beck, Jeff - Official Bootleg USA '06 Benson, George - Bad Benson Benson, George - Giblet Gravy Benson, George - the George Benson Cookbook Benson, George - the Instrumentals Black Keys, the - Magic Potion Brant, Henry - Music for Massed Flutes Coleman, Ornette - Sound Grammar Earland, Charles - Black Talk! Earland, Charles - Cookin' with the Mighty Burner Earland, Charles - Intensity Feldman, Morton - Early Piano Works Feldman, Morton - String Quartet (1979) Frisell, Bill - Bill Frisell, Ron Carter, Paul Motian Gamelan Son of Lion - Metal Notes Garrett, Kenny - Beyond the Wall Grimes, Henry - the Call Holdsworth, Alan - Against the Clock Joseph, Dan - archaea Lang, Eddie - the Classic Columbia and Okea Joe Venuti and Eddie Land Sessions Lloyd, Charles - Of Course, Of Course McDuff, Brother Jack - Crash! McDuff, Brother Jack - Tobacco Road/Di It Now! McDuff, Jack - The Soulful Drums McLaughlin, John - Industrial Zen

Pretty interesting, I'm about halfways through it.

Where are they being sold in NY?

Thanks for the heads up!

La Monte Young and Phillip Glass both also claim Coltrane as an influence.

I've heard people say that about George W. Bush too.

Elizabeth, eh? You sure edited that damm quick Clem.

They both suck.

Black Rock @ 52nd Street? My Dad worked there for a while.

That's pretty much how I feel, I just thought the Common Practice graphic was funny.