Taking a night to catch up on my hairy and cranky long overdue correspondence, so the Rambler's going to take the hit this evening. Just thought I'd note that this is Rambler number 660, a number with which to conjure for kids of my generation in the New York metropolitan area.
I know that he's become something of a joke, or perhaps not (I'm still trying to work out if he is or isn't a respected voice in political talk radio), but I don't think anyone who grew up listening to Don Imus in the late 70's and early 80's doesn't still have a soft spot for the man and his cast of characters. It all seems hokey now, but when you're eight years old, the Reverend Billy Sol Harkus (or is it 'Hargus'?). Everything's all right as long as I've got my plastic Jesus sitting up there with my pair of fuzzy dice.
If you know what I mean.
D.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Something's Coming
Working on a fairly lengthy and wholly self-congratulatory/loathing (it's an art form, I'll admit) Weekend Listening, but it's currently so much more digressive than they usually are that I need to pound it through the magic syntax machine a bit before I release it into the wild. If I can't get it ordered and sensible tomorrow, I'll hold it for next weekend and instead give you another Dave @ 24 entry in a couple of days. So it's win/win for you. Or lose/lose, depending on your tolerance for such things. Still, logic dictates that if you can't stand the Dave, why subject yourself to the Rambler, which is the Dave at my Daviest. Third person references included.
I only alluded to it briefly yesterday, but Yesenia and I were in the city very late; she to attend the bachelorette party of Mariangela (dunno if I'm spelling this right!) and me hanging out with Ansley, the future groom in the equation. Ans and I went out to a loud and unsatisfying mexican place with his brother Bran and girlfriend, and afterwards we all complained about the selection of restaurant and tried to pin the blame of its choosing on each other. In other words, a classic Kopperman/Lancourt evening, and worth every penny.
Bran and GF Samantha retired, and Ans and I walked back to his new apartment and waited with video games for the girls to return, which they did, thoroughly pickled, at around three. Mariangela then declared her undying love for her dog and Ansely (in exactly that order), and Fiona drunkenly managed to complete 'My Name is Jonas' on the medium setting in Guitar Hero III, which I'll admit was sort of impressive.
Today was a day of mostly nothing, save for a couple of loads of laundry - taking advantage of the sunny weather to dry them out on the line. Using that clothesline is beginning to become a serious 'thing' for me - I'm wondering how late in the year I can keep it going. The clothes dry superfast - pretty much within an hour - and they come out completely wrinkle-free. What a technological wonder, this washline. Our current line had been getting slack, so I gave it another period snip and retying, but I cut it about an inch too short and have to go get a new line. Which isn't so sad, since it was carrying about six years worth of funk on it.
BTW: Thanks to a prodding from Karl, I finally told Blogger what my time zone is. Now the time at the bottom of each Rambler accurately reflects the time it was posted, EST. I'd say ironically, 'in case anyone cared,' but Karl brought it up, so it's apparent someone did care.
D.
I only alluded to it briefly yesterday, but Yesenia and I were in the city very late; she to attend the bachelorette party of Mariangela (dunno if I'm spelling this right!) and me hanging out with Ansley, the future groom in the equation. Ans and I went out to a loud and unsatisfying mexican place with his brother Bran and girlfriend, and afterwards we all complained about the selection of restaurant and tried to pin the blame of its choosing on each other. In other words, a classic Kopperman/Lancourt evening, and worth every penny.
Bran and GF Samantha retired, and Ans and I walked back to his new apartment and waited with video games for the girls to return, which they did, thoroughly pickled, at around three. Mariangela then declared her undying love for her dog and Ansely (in exactly that order), and Fiona drunkenly managed to complete 'My Name is Jonas' on the medium setting in Guitar Hero III, which I'll admit was sort of impressive.
Today was a day of mostly nothing, save for a couple of loads of laundry - taking advantage of the sunny weather to dry them out on the line. Using that clothesline is beginning to become a serious 'thing' for me - I'm wondering how late in the year I can keep it going. The clothes dry superfast - pretty much within an hour - and they come out completely wrinkle-free. What a technological wonder, this washline. Our current line had been getting slack, so I gave it another period snip and retying, but I cut it about an inch too short and have to go get a new line. Which isn't so sad, since it was carrying about six years worth of funk on it.
BTW: Thanks to a prodding from Karl, I finally told Blogger what my time zone is. Now the time at the bottom of each Rambler accurately reflects the time it was posted, EST. I'd say ironically, 'in case anyone cared,' but Karl brought it up, so it's apparent someone did care.
D.
Uneeda Sleep
Just got in from NYC, driving the girls home from a bachelorette party. And it's fuckin' 4:15 in the morning. So no blog for you.
D.
D.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Funny People
Another thing we did while in Rhode Island was take a night at the movies. It's something we don't do nearly enough of, but this Summer's slate of films has looked pretty dire, although the films we've actually gotten out to see we've enjoyed. The Rhode Island film was no exception: Funny People, which (to me) was such an expert blend of crack-up comedy and genuine sentiment that I'm sort of amazed that it all held together. It was, as people have noted, both a little too long and a little too short - it spent too much time on the Leslie Mann subplot and not enough digging further in to the L.A. comedy scene, perhaps. But it was all thoroughly enjoyable, and that makes three-and-a-half films now starring Adam Sandler that I can say I really liked. Weird.
D.
D.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
In Other Old News
As noted yesterday, the Steely Dan show was at Foxwoods, which is in the eastern wilds of Connecticut. It wasn't much of a hike, though, since Yesenia and I were already up at the family camp in Coventry, Rhode Island. Only about a forty minute drive both ways, and mercifully free of traffic.
I've been going up to Coventry for as long as I can recall. The house itself has been in the family since (I think) the 1930's - perhaps if my mom reads this entry, she'll give the correct timeline. It, to me, is the definition of Summer. It's seen it's ups and downs over the years, but it's always wonderful to go and stay for a couple of days. It's right on a dammed off part of a river that I think is called 'Big River', but carries the name 'Johnson's Pond.' Of course, that's what they always called it, but I note that the name doesn't appear on Google Maps. Apparently, ignoring people's cherished childhood memories doesn't fall under 'doing no evil.'
These days, it's much different going up to Coventry - my own grandmother has been gone for over a decade, and my great aunt Evelyn - the family matriarch - doesn't really go down there much, so the place is no longer the hub of family activity and home feeling that it used to be in my memories, as it was pretty much up until the very late 90's. That's some run, though, don't you think?
Now I travel up with Yesenia and we sleep downstairs - instead of up in the attic as I did as a kid - and we listen for the cicadas and the rain on the lake and she sits out in the sun on the dock and I take out the canoe. We drink gin and tonics and take trips to the shore and generally behave like adults. It's still a good life.
D.
I've been going up to Coventry for as long as I can recall. The house itself has been in the family since (I think) the 1930's - perhaps if my mom reads this entry, she'll give the correct timeline. It, to me, is the definition of Summer. It's seen it's ups and downs over the years, but it's always wonderful to go and stay for a couple of days. It's right on a dammed off part of a river that I think is called 'Big River', but carries the name 'Johnson's Pond.' Of course, that's what they always called it, but I note that the name doesn't appear on Google Maps. Apparently, ignoring people's cherished childhood memories doesn't fall under 'doing no evil.'
These days, it's much different going up to Coventry - my own grandmother has been gone for over a decade, and my great aunt Evelyn - the family matriarch - doesn't really go down there much, so the place is no longer the hub of family activity and home feeling that it used to be in my memories, as it was pretty much up until the very late 90's. That's some run, though, don't you think?
Now I travel up with Yesenia and we sleep downstairs - instead of up in the attic as I did as a kid - and we listen for the cicadas and the rain on the lake and she sits out in the sun on the dock and I take out the canoe. We drink gin and tonics and take trips to the shore and generally behave like adults. It's still a good life.
D.
Reeling in the Years
It occurs to me that I didn't talk much about the Steely Dan set list - heavy on Aja, being about the only album they dug any deeper than the singles. The only songs they didn't play off of Aja were 'Deacon Blues' and 'I Got the News.' Katy Lied, my favorite Steely Dan album, was criminally underrepresented, with 'Black Friday' and (oddly) 'Daddy Don't Live in That New York City No More,' the latter sung by Walter Becker. Everything else was pretty much the hits, although they left out 'Rikki Don't Lose that Number,' for reasons known only to themselves.
As they left the stage the first time and the inevitability of the encore hung in the air, I said to Noah, 'Well, what's the big hole left in the set?' Figuring they'd do two or three songs for the encore, and wondering what of the few famous crowd-pleasers they had left in the bag. The aforementioned 'Rikki,' and also 'Reeling in the Years' occurred to me (although I was secretly hoping for 'Doctor Wu'), and Noah answered back 'My Old School.'
The band came back and did a two song encore: 'Reeling in the Years' and 'My Old School.' And the one song I walked around singing the next day back in Coventry was, of course, 'Rikki Don't Lose that Number,' as if its absence from the set made my brain DJ put it on heavy rotation.
As usual, a phenomenon that The Onion commented on brilliantly.
D.
As they left the stage the first time and the inevitability of the encore hung in the air, I said to Noah, 'Well, what's the big hole left in the set?' Figuring they'd do two or three songs for the encore, and wondering what of the few famous crowd-pleasers they had left in the bag. The aforementioned 'Rikki,' and also 'Reeling in the Years' occurred to me (although I was secretly hoping for 'Doctor Wu'), and Noah answered back 'My Old School.'
The band came back and did a two song encore: 'Reeling in the Years' and 'My Old School.' And the one song I walked around singing the next day back in Coventry was, of course, 'Rikki Don't Lose that Number,' as if its absence from the set made my brain DJ put it on heavy rotation.
As usual, a phenomenon that The Onion commented on brilliantly.
D.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Men of Steel
As part of the seemingly endless series of great concerts that I've attended on other peoples' dimes, friend Noah took me to see Steely Dan at Foxwoods this past Friday. Ostensibly, the gift was on his part a portion of the 'payment' for his new website that I'm designing (it's on my list of things to do, as they say).
The show itself was quite good - the band was tight (according to Noah, it's pretty much the same band that they've toured with for the last decade or so) and the mix was clear. I left the theater to urinate about halfway through the set, and it turned out that they were feeding a live mix into the bathroom and even the mix in the bathroom was pretty damn good. Actually, a little better, since it wasn't quite so boomy.
I've long said that I like bands to make the live experience a unique one, by reworking older material and giving it some life. Steely Dan put that to the test, though, as I found myself being mildly disappointed that they played all of their early material in their late-period lounge-fusion style of Aja and Gaucho. Not so much disappointed that they'd reworked it, but that the set could have used a little more tonal variety. Since they played the later material pretty much note-for-note - by making 'Dirty Work' (for example) from a lovely and sad organ driven ballad with calliope undercurrents into yet another dry ironic seen-it-all take on relationships (that's what the later sound does) - the set started to sag a little in the middle. I felt that most strongly with the transformation of the stuttering trumpet break of the original into a very smooth jazz solo. Nice, but I missed the original. Although I did very much like the nod to original singer David Palmer's absence by handing the vocal duties over to the trip of female backing vocalists.
One of said back-up singers was the reason we had such great seats (fourth row!), since Noah is friends with her - or perhaps friends through her husband.
The 'Most Pleasant Surprise' award for the show goes to Walter Becker, whom I've always thought was more of a background element in the band, but who turned in consistently great lead playing throughout the evening. In fact, I preferred his playing to the other lead player (Jon Herrington, also musical director) on most songs, until the rockier block towards the end of the set, where Herrington cut loose a bit.
Donald Fagen was in great voice, and spent 90% of the show seated center-stage right up front behind his Fender Rhodes. He now looks for all the world like the love child of Ray Charles and Golda Meir, and I guess he sort of plays, writes and sings like that odd genetic combination would suggest. One small disappointment with the mix was that his Rhodes was a little too low for my tastes - his comping is a pretty strong part of the Steely Dan 'sound,' to me - and the parts where the rest of the band came down and Fagen did a little bit of contemplative noodling were drowned out by whoops from the audience.
The show also made a nice contrast to the last live show I saw - Aterciopelados at the Prospect Park bandshell - in that the almost entirely white and middle-aged Steely Dan fanbase sat through all of the performance, unlike the Colombian Standing and Dancing gang at Aterciopelados. It must be said that I prefer to sit at concerts and always have, but the level of annoyance I get at having to stand at shows in order to see because the person in front of me is standing doesn't stem from the act of having to stand - it's from having a seat and then being forced by someone else to not sit in it if I actually want to watch the show I paid for.
There's an entire second Rambler to be written about the venue. Foxwoods is something else, sort of like a David Lynch Theme Park - but that's a Rambler for another day. Anyhow, thanks again to Noah for the show. I wonder what famous act I'll get to see for free next year?
D.
The show itself was quite good - the band was tight (according to Noah, it's pretty much the same band that they've toured with for the last decade or so) and the mix was clear. I left the theater to urinate about halfway through the set, and it turned out that they were feeding a live mix into the bathroom and even the mix in the bathroom was pretty damn good. Actually, a little better, since it wasn't quite so boomy.
I've long said that I like bands to make the live experience a unique one, by reworking older material and giving it some life. Steely Dan put that to the test, though, as I found myself being mildly disappointed that they played all of their early material in their late-period lounge-fusion style of Aja and Gaucho. Not so much disappointed that they'd reworked it, but that the set could have used a little more tonal variety. Since they played the later material pretty much note-for-note - by making 'Dirty Work' (for example) from a lovely and sad organ driven ballad with calliope undercurrents into yet another dry ironic seen-it-all take on relationships (that's what the later sound does) - the set started to sag a little in the middle. I felt that most strongly with the transformation of the stuttering trumpet break of the original into a very smooth jazz solo. Nice, but I missed the original. Although I did very much like the nod to original singer David Palmer's absence by handing the vocal duties over to the trip of female backing vocalists.
One of said back-up singers was the reason we had such great seats (fourth row!), since Noah is friends with her - or perhaps friends through her husband.
The 'Most Pleasant Surprise' award for the show goes to Walter Becker, whom I've always thought was more of a background element in the band, but who turned in consistently great lead playing throughout the evening. In fact, I preferred his playing to the other lead player (Jon Herrington, also musical director) on most songs, until the rockier block towards the end of the set, where Herrington cut loose a bit.
Donald Fagen was in great voice, and spent 90% of the show seated center-stage right up front behind his Fender Rhodes. He now looks for all the world like the love child of Ray Charles and Golda Meir, and I guess he sort of plays, writes and sings like that odd genetic combination would suggest. One small disappointment with the mix was that his Rhodes was a little too low for my tastes - his comping is a pretty strong part of the Steely Dan 'sound,' to me - and the parts where the rest of the band came down and Fagen did a little bit of contemplative noodling were drowned out by whoops from the audience.
The show also made a nice contrast to the last live show I saw - Aterciopelados at the Prospect Park bandshell - in that the almost entirely white and middle-aged Steely Dan fanbase sat through all of the performance, unlike the Colombian Standing and Dancing gang at Aterciopelados. It must be said that I prefer to sit at concerts and always have, but the level of annoyance I get at having to stand at shows in order to see because the person in front of me is standing doesn't stem from the act of having to stand - it's from having a seat and then being forced by someone else to not sit in it if I actually want to watch the show I paid for.
There's an entire second Rambler to be written about the venue. Foxwoods is something else, sort of like a David Lynch Theme Park - but that's a Rambler for another day. Anyhow, thanks again to Noah for the show. I wonder what famous act I'll get to see for free next year?
D.
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