Keeping Time

Every half-hour, between eleven and four, the whistle of the steamboat Sabino sounds. The one-hundred-plus-year-old boat carries tourists from the Mystic Seaport Museum on a short tour of the Mystic Estuary. The timing of her departure is dictated by another, more important, Mystic timekeeper: The bascule bridge. The span lifts at forty minutes past the hour, every hour, from April until November. At other times, boats must contact the bridge an hour in advance of their approach. The Sabino begins her steam downriver at the half hour in order to make the bridge at the forty. The raising of the bridge is preceded by the long sounding of a fire-alarm bell. The gates lower, and the the pedestrians, lulled into a false sense of security by the end of the bell, all jump when the steam whistle sounds. The procedure is reversed as the bridge lowers, all taking about ten minutes, depending on the amount of boat traffic on the estuary.

Main Street changes from East Main Street to West Main Street on crossing the bridge, and the town's (tourist-supported) business district follows along it. At the upper end of West Main, just after the bank, just before downtown ends, sits Mystic Pizza, Mystic's other landmark. Unlike the regimented sounds of the Sabino and the bascule bridge, Mystic Pizza's sound is constant; the speakers under the awning send rock and roll into the street as long as the restaurant is open.

Up West Main; UBC and Mystic Pizza.

Open since 1973, and famous since 1988, Mystic Pizza slavishly broadcasts nostalgia for a time not so long past. A scrubbed-clean version of Mystic Pizza (Petrie, 1988) plays non-stop within the restaurant.

At noon and six, this piped-in nostalgia provides counterpoint to another of Mystic's auditory landmarks: The bells of Union Baptist Church. One of the two conjoined buildings that form the aptly-named Union Baptist Church was the non-denominational Mariners' Free Church, built on the same location in 1825 by "the sea-faring men of the village." That building was connected, at a ninety-degree angle, with the Second Baptist Church in 1861, creating the structure that now sits just uphill of Mystic Pizza, and just downhill of the Mystic-Noank Public Library.

On walk up West  Main, it is possible to stand between Mystic Pizza and Union Baptist, and take in the hymns and the oldies simultaneously. Half an hour later, in the same place, you'll hear the whistle, then the bell, then second whistle. The town clock and the steeple were both blown down from Union Baptist in the hurricane of 1938, and not replaced until 1969. The aforementioned carillon was installed in the new steeple, but in downtown Mystic, the clock is superfluous.

Turn, Turn, Turn

I. Whoever Would Love Life

"Whoever would love life
      and see good days
   must keep his tongue from evil
      and his lips from deceitful speech.
 He must turn from evil and do good;
      he must seek peace and pursue it."

This passage, as the diction may have indicated to you, is from the Bible. This blows my mind. Rarely do I think of the Bible as giving explicit instruction on how to love life, yet there it is, right at the top. It encourages me that this passage exists, and I love these words. But perhaps more interesting is where this passage exists. If you click on that link, you'll see that it is from First Peter 3, (1) a chapter known for its controversial "Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands" passage (2).  More important to this reading for me is the fact that "Whoever would love life, etc.," a passage I have never heard of or heard discussed before, is nestled in the shadow of this other, controversial and thus popular passage.

This is one of my favorite things about the Bible: Not only is it polyglot and heterogeneous on a grand scale, it also manages such diversity on a micro level, as evidenced here. I recently found myself drawn to another passage in a similar situation...

II. Beautiful In Its Time

"I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God." (3)

This passage is, coincidentally, (4) also located in the third chapter of its book (Ecclesiastes). It follows immediately after the famous "To everything there is a season" passage, and again, it's not one I have ever heard discussed, yet it rings very true with me.

III. ?

I feel like there should be some sort of wrapup here, but I don't know what to say. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

---

(1) Paraphrasing the psalms.

(2) As someone who identifies as a feminist on some level, that passage always troubles me. But that is, for this post, beside the point.

(3) In the interests of gender awareness and equality, I always feel compelled to write "[sic]" after "men" in passages like that. But I cannot use "[sic]" in any context without feeling like a pretentious ass, so I abstain, while mentioning it here.

(4) Or, if you're into numerology, not coincidentally at all.

---

Life Update:
I am going swing dancing tonight. I just finished reading Jane Eyre. I heartily recommend both.

Breakfast

Susan, one of the residents here at Labaree House in Mystic, is renowned for making large sandwiches. So when I saw her this morning eating a very modest breakfast sandwich, I had to ask what was on it. "Oh," she said, "Just jelly and butter. It is a very Zen sandwich."

"I've never heard a sandwich described as Zen," I said.

"Yeah," she said, "Usually my sandwiches are... what's the opposite of Zen?"

I gave my answer, but I wanted to ask you, friends:

What is the opposite of Zen?

Take-Away

I know I've mentioned Daytrotter here. Let me re-remind you to visit Daytrotter. But let me also point
you to Take-Away Shows.


I. Distribution & Ideology

The fact that sites like Daytrotter and Takeaway Shows exist is an encouragement to me. They fill a previously (as in, 'before the internet') non-existent niche in music distribution: the space between live shows and album recordings. The sense of improvisation that makes for the best live shows is present in these 'in-between' recordings, and they are presented in an audio quality that  exceeds underground concert recordings, but not so slickly produced as an album. That's in terms of distribution; it is ideologically pleasing to know that, via sites like these, bands can promote themselves without need to go to a record label; that they can circumvent strategies of profit-making.

You will note, however, that I'm not specifically recommending bands' myspace pages or self-released albums, though both allow bands to circumvent the labels. I like these two sites in particular for reasons other than ideology.

II. The Music

In terms of musical creation, these sessions sit in another in-between space: between jam/rehearsal and live show. The feeling is intimate, sometimes unpolished, and (especially at TakeAway Shows) you get closer to the band than you could at any but the smallest of venues (Swarthmore's Olde Club comes to mind). And that's the kind of performance I like. I understand the allure of the rock'n'roll show, of the onstage extravaganza of dancers and lights equally choreographed, but I do not prefer it.

And that's the second reason I recommend these sites: I genuinely like this music. It is, certainly not in all cases, but in the ones I seek out and enjoy, it is music that is both participatory and mobile. It can spring up spontaneously, and it invites people to join it. The former is a function, to some degree of the instrumentation: acoustic, portable. The latter, of the composition and arranging: simple, rhythmic.

This combination takes the best of folk bands (in the old community or family band sense, not in the post-60s folk band sense) and marching bands, and makes music for everyone; the opposite of the record label model (music for those who have the technology to reproduce it and to purchase those reproductions). That's what I like about these sites.

III. The List

I was going to incorporate links to some of my favorite Daytrotter sessions and Take-Away Shows into the body, but I think I'll just put them right here.

III.i. Daytrotter
AA Bondy
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
The Low Anthem
The Preservation Hall Jazz Band
Spoon

III.ii. Take-Away Shows
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
The Low Anthem
Megafaun
Mumford & Sons

Enjoy!

Travels

I'm kind of coming towards the end of my vagabond summer (or, to use a T.S. Eliot phrase that I love: "that ineffable zero summer"). Or I'm smack in the middle of it. Here's a brief roundup:

5/31: Graduation
6/1 - 6/21: Allentown
6/21 - 7/21: New Hampshire
7/21 - 7/28: Mystic
7/28 - 7/29: The Mystic Whaler
7/29 - 7/31: New York City
7/31 - 8/2: Philadelphia & Surrounds
8/2 - 8/5: Allentown
8/5 - 8/13: Spruce Lake Wilderness Camp
And after that, to Harrisburg (contingent, of course, upon finding an apartment and a job there). 

If you're reading this, and I know you, and I haven't talked to you recently, give me a call or drop me an email. Or better, a real letter. I read this article yesterday, while sitting in the Mystic-Noank Public Library (see also, the cat), and wanted to remind myself (and y'all) that this blog is meant to engender, not eliminate, communication. The best address for snail mail is my parents' place in Allentown:

1415 West Linden Street
Allentown, PA 18102

The Chicken Story

 It started, brainstorming in the guys' dorm. "What if we put a live chicken in their room?" said someone. "And then what?" "And then there'd be a live chicken in their room!"

Four of us decided to get it done: Wes Willison, Andrew Van Buren, Jamie Birney, and myself. Wes tapped me on the shoulder at dinner, and we drove off in Jamie's car with no clear destination. We searched the iPhone: farm. petting zoo. pet store. "It's gotta be close. We need to get there, drop the chicken, and get back before anyone suspects anything." Later, we realized that everyone suspected something (though no one suspected the correct thing).  We had no destination within miles, so when we spotted a wild turkey off the side of the road, it was inevitable that we would at least try to chase it down, me holding out my flannel shirt to... I don't even know what. Bag it? Blind it? Prevent it from pecking me to death? In the end, it was irrelevant. Wild turkeys are fast.

We drove into town, despairing. We parked in a parking lot at an ice cream / diner / beer store. Wes and I went in and (I only learned this later) Jamie and Andrew held a brief prayer service for our endeavor. The waitress glared at us. "You want to buy a chicken?" "Renting one would also be good." "You want to rent a live chicken?" The manager came out. "Well I know someone, but, for that, no."

We drove on. There was nothing nearby. We had no leads. So we began the sad process of brainstorming our backup prank. "What about dyeing their toilet water purple?" one of us said. We took this sad approximation of a prank as our only hope, and drove to a grocery store. It was five minutes before closing. At the register, the locals watched us purchase the 'grape' powder, bemused, but not nearly as bemused as they were about to be.

"Do you know where we can find a live chicken?" we asked.

A kid around our age, sitting on the Aged Pine Log Bench ($129.99) answered: "Sure, Anthony Soto, he raises chickens, out in Yulan."

He gave us directions. He may have given us hope as well, but we had settled for grape drink, and weren't willing to be crushed again.

"Tell him John sent you," he said, "no, no, wait--tell him Brian sent you. He knows Brian better."

We drove to Yulan and heard Anthony Soto's dog barking in front of his mobile home. We knocked. We explained our plan, and this time, at the inevitable question "So why do you want a chicken?" we had our answer: "We want them to come back to their room and say "Oh My God, a Chicken!"

"No, sorry," said Anthony Soto, in a tone that indicated that he wasn't.

We went back to the car, and the 'grape' powder. We opened the doors. Jamie may have had the key in the ignition, when the other Anthony Soto (Little Anthony, to his father's Big Anthony) called from the porch: "Hey! If you can catch one, you can take one for the night."

We looked at each other, and stalked back into the yard. The flock scattered. The chickens escaped, one of them into a secure nesting place amidst a metal truss. She stayed there as the four of us surrounded her, sure of her safety. AVB fished her out, telling her that she was a "pretty baby." She rode back to camp in a copy paper box.

If you weren't there (unlikely, if you cared enough to read this far), you will want to know that we took the copy paper box and put it in the girls' shower. We blocked the entrance to the shower with a mattress. We went to our scheduled activity, and walked in at five minute intervals.

"All right, what did you guys do?" we were asked. We smirked and said nothing. "Did you pull a prank?" I think we tried to deny it, but eventually we said something along the lines of "Well yeah, but you could never imagine what it is." Which of course set them to guessing, but we said nothing.

The chicken, for her part, was the best chicken we could've caught. There was a class going on in the girls' dorm, but she squawked only once. She defecated twice, both times in the expendable lid of the copy paper box. She pecked no one, even in the frenzy surrounding her discovery.

We spent a good part of that night being mysterious about where the chicken had come from. We took congratulations and strange looks from folks who hadn't, before that night, known us. "We didn't have to break any laws" (true, unless slipping Little Anthony a twenty as we drove off was illegal) was all we would say about our journey. Until now, that is.

List

Location: Mystic, CT; Bruggeman Place
Music: Bill Frisell, The Willies

Weather: Thunderstorm
Companions: Known and unknown
Dinner: Homefires [homefries] and black beans
Left hand: Chord fingers callousing
Right hand: Kayaking blisters callousing
The Chicken Story: Soon to be released

Lands

Camping is different from backpacking in this: While camping, I had my banjo and a book to read. Which was good, because I wasn't spending the majority of the day's hours walking to the next place where I could sleep and find water. So I needed something to do.

I. Summerland

In my continuing effort to read his complete works, I brought along Michael Chabon's YA novel, Summerland. It's 500 pages, so I thought it would do for the four days. I forgot that it's a YA novel. After day one, I had to ration my consumption, finishing the night before we left.

It's not a great book -- The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and The Mysteries of Pittsburgh are, as far as my reading has taken me, Chabon's best. It is, as one New York Times reviewer disparaged, "busy," but it is tons of fun, and the NYT reviewer must have some sort of axe to grind, because it does not deserve the kind of punishment that he gives it.

That said, you have to want it to all hang together. In a great book, it would all hang together on its own, but this lack makes sense to me; the book is about the power of stories, about "valorizing the mundane," as Denise Iris, my filmmaking professor says (about things in general, not about this book). It makes sense that, like fairies, the book's power will not become evident until you believe in it.

II. This Land

In How to Play the Five-String Banjo, Pete Seeger includes a chart for "This Land Is Your Land," the old Woody Guthrie favorite. More because it was easy than because I chose it, it became the first song I've played on the banjo. That said, it's a great first banjo tune for me: "As I went walking that ribbon of highway..." "I rolled and rambled / and I followed my footsteps..." it fits with this upcoming (traveling) stage of my summer.

"This Land..." is used as a patriotic anthem, so it's often forgotten that Woody was not always a big fan of American style capitalism/democracy. Consider this, my favorite verse:

There was a big high wall there, it tried to stop me / there was a sign there, sayin' "private property" / but on the other side, it didn't say nothin' / This land [or that side] was made for you and me.

There are, according to wikipedia two other "controversial" verses, both of which I love and hope to learn soon. Here they are:

Nobody living can ever stop me,

As I go walking that freedom highway;

Nobody living can ever make me turn back

This land was made for you and me.

In the squares of the city, In the shadow of a steeple;

By the relief office, I'd seen my people.

As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking,

Is this land made for you and me?

Your Help Needed:

1) I realize I'm using no consistent style for titles of movies, songs, books, etc. Any favorite styles out there anyone? MLA? APA? Chicago?

2) Seeger writes out this "This Land" in C, using C, F, and G7 chords. But the G7 sounds off to me. Anyone with music theory knowledge want to recommend a different chord? Or is my drummer's tin ear doing me in, and the G7 is fine?

Mahoosuc

In lieu of a post today, I bring you pictures from my recent backpacking adventure, courtesy of Helen Hougen. Enjoy!

http://picasaweb.google.com/g.s.albright/Mahoosuc#

P.S. I'm going camping with the grandparents starting tomorrow till Monday. Expect no posts.

'Bout Time For Me To Get Low

(see the previous post for the introduction to the topic)

 I. Trailer One

The biggest difference between these two trailers (aside from the fact that one has onscreen text quoting critics' favorable reviews) is in genre. Sure, they're both promoting a nostalgic, historical piece, but the first trailer hints at the darker part of the story: what it was that made Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) into a hermit. The trailer opens with the dramatic image of a burning house, an image that is used later, in a quick montage of action shots set to minor-key suspense music. The burning house is conspicuously absent from the second trailer. The entire end of this first trailer slides into an ominous register--not the explicit suspense and scares of a horror movie trailer, but the sense that there is more going on than meets the eye.

Consider the beautifully creepy trees at 1:18, the underlying music that begins during the comic radio interview, the gunshot in the rain (1:30), the line "he has a way of making people do what he wants" (1:32), "nobody knows what he's capable of" (1:36), the mysterious glow on Bush's face in the mirror (1:39),and the frequent cuts that underscore Bill Murray's character's speech. All of these elements add up to a sense of the unknown underlying the festive party invoked early in the trailer; none of these elements are present in the second trailer.

II. Trailer Two

The second trailer is a trailer for a sentimental comedy. It opens, not with the burning house, but with Bill Murray's character speaking about death... which becomes the set up for a joke about his lackluster business. The line (and same sequence of shots from trailer one) "I want everybody to come who's got a story to tell about me" is underscored here by an upbeat fiddle tune, recasting Lucas Black's character's reaction to the gunshot as a moment of slapstick, rather than of violence. The tune ends on the reverse shot of Felix with his gun, and the moment of silence allows for genuine menace, but is immediately followed by Bill Murray's character's crack about Bush's speech (0:54). In the first trailer, this sequence was underscored by guitar slides from the same tune, not the fiddle portion. A minor change, but one that changes the emotional tenor of the (almost) exact same progression of shots.

The trailer then gives us two jokes ("fancy car for the dead" and "that is his smile") that are absent from the first trailer, further selling the comedy angle. The next sequence introduces Bush's relationship to Mattie (Sissy Spacek), following almost unchanged from trailer one. The new trailer ads only a few shots surrounding the line "we had a go" (1:22) and subtracts Mattie's lines and the attendant shots of Bush in his suit.

The real divergence in the two trailers occurs at the radio interview (1:19 in trailer one, 1:28 in trailer 2). Trailer 1 goes into the subtle creepiness detailed above. Trailer 2 devotes this time to a further exploration of Bush's relationship with Mattie. Rather than the suspenseful violins of the first trailer, the second one gives us a nostalgic vocal bluegrass number (starting at 1:36). The trailer ends with a few jokes during the suit fitting, and cuts to the ending titles.

III. Trailers & Favorites

I'm always impressed by trailers, and these two show very clearly how subtle changes in music and cutting, as well as shot choice, can determine the emotional tenor of a piece. The two have significant overlap in terms of shots used, and the shots that have been excised and added have been excised and added to differentiate between particular emotional responses to the trailers. That someone can do that so subtly and so well always impresses me, which is why I set out to write about these trailers in the first place.

As for my favorite? I was all set to say number two until I undertook this close reading. The jokiness of the ending really ruins number two for me. Up till the end, I enjoy the focus on Murray's character, the less-dramatic music, the lack of fast-cutting montage (overused in trailers these days), etc. I don't care about the text onscreen that much, but getting rid of the ending of trailer one (1:59) is a travesty.

"Bout time for me to get low." Though it does not help me at all understand what 'get low' means in this context, the image of the old man sitting alone in what appears to be a church, making this declarative statement is a powerful insight into Felix Bush. Much more powerful than learning that he doesn't wear underwear. This sort of deep, if brief and not entirely understood insight into the characters is exactly what a good trailer should, in my view, give us.

 For Discussion: What is it in Felix Bush's past that the first trailer hints at?

Get Low

No, no, not that "Get Low." Or that one (props to Mel Cruz for sharing that). Read on.

This may be a function of my major at Swarthmore, but I really like movie trailers. Sometimes, I like trailers more than the movies themselves. I definitely see more trailers than I see movies (they’re free, and a whole lot shorter). But I’m also a committed skeptic when it comes to judging the quality of movies based on their trailers; that is, I usually expect them to not live up to their trailers. I usually expect new movies to be terrible. An example that I am not proud to share: after seeing its trailer, I predicted that “WALL-E” would fail artistically, seeking box office dollars as an exercise in cute-for-cute’s-sake. 

So it is very gingerly that I say that, based on its trailer, I expect this movie to be phenomenal.


There are actually two “Get Low” trailers out right now. The first one is linked above. The second one is here. I was puzzled by the release of the second, since the two are so similar.

After a second viewing, I realized that the second one includes critics’ blurbs, and after a little bit (a very little bit) of digging, I found that the movie has been out for a little while (though not to be released in US theaters till the end of the month). So that explains the second trailer: if you’ve got reviews, why not use them? Most movies would love to be in this position; they can’t release a “darling of the critics” trailer till after opening weekend, when the money’s already been made or lost. “Get Low” dodges that with its weird release timing (probably took it a while to get a distributor after being on the festival circuit in mid/late 2009), and by virtue of the fact that it’s an arty film, not a high-expected-gross blockbuster.


Now that that’s out of the way, on to what I really care about: which trailer is better? First, watch them both (#1 and #2) and choose for yourself. Remember your preference, and let me know in the comments. Tuesday, I’ll post my analysis.

Accent

"Well, my sista's nephew, he did it [dancing] professionally, but he hadta quit, 'cause of his calves, ya know. So then he became a Gusa. Ya know what a Gusa is? Yeah, I didn't eitha. He gets up early, and he rides the ferry over ta the Statue of Liberty. He has a dog, and he walks around with the dog chasing the geese away. So they call him a Gusa."

 -Roland, speaking to me in church this morning.

Haiku

I recently heard a piece on NPR postulating that haiku is the new light verse. At first I was reticent. Haiku, when done well, is beautiful, and I would hate to demean a form that boasts such beauty and tradition. But here are a few New Hampshire haiku, some attempts to compress my experiences in the granite state into a few moments.

In the shop, we are
silent, even when the power
tools don't drown us out.

New Hampshire, with lawns
from Oklahoma; with Phil-
-adelphia's air.


From the shop to the
house, we brush flies and sawdust
with the same motions.

Anyone else with moments of their life to share in a 17-syllable poem, often featuring nature imagery, condensing a feeling into a brief moment?

Go Forth

I was about to write about the postal service, in light of their proposed rate hike, but when I went to the New York Times to read up on the announcement, I found this ad.
I usually ignore the banner ads, but this ad was clearly a part of Levi's (Levi's'? grammar police, please advise) "Go Forth" series, which I found via Slate's Adwatch column. The video profiled is, as Seth Stevenson writes, inspiring. I really like this ad, and the newest entry in the campaign does not disappoint. This pair of ads, and the "Go Forth" campaign in general, bring up a few issues:

I. Commie Pants

Once I was at the Levi's site, I found We Are All Workers, the first part in a series chronicling Levi's financial investment in Braddock, PA, the town featured in "To Work." The title of the series sounds like a communist propaganda slogan, and the font, while perhaps intended to evoke Depression-era America, also evokes Soviet posters.
Once, in Mike Tratner's Movies and Mass Politics class, Tratner asked "How many of you are wearing blue jeans?" A large majority of the class was. "That," he said, "is because America encourages everyone to think of themselves as working-class, and blue jeans began as working-class pants." 

Levi's is tapping into this American myth. The earlier pieces of the "Go Forth" campaign cast the wearers of Levi's as early-American pioneers. Now, paralleling U.S. history, the ad campaign turns loyal customers into workers. Frontiers get a shoutout, but the ads are much more explicitly about work.
The disconnect is that America's knee-jerk anti-communism co-exists with a national founding myth that rejects aristocracy and privileges the working class.

II. Authenticity
I said this above, but I really like these ads. Blue jeans, Americana, beautiful art-house-style filmmaking, poetry--all right up my alley. I am the target market. Seth Stevenson, in his piece for Slate, brings up my first (and least pressing) concern: do the ads sell jeans? The fact that the campaign still exists suggests that they do. As commenter RapidThinningRedhead writes on youtube: "...It's not about jeans. It's about an idea. Levi's is a lifestyle brand."
(more on lifestyle brands)
My second concern is more ideological. As youtube commenter MrUrbanExplorer says just above RapidThinningRedhead: "levis jeans are made in china.
its [sic] like these corporations are laughing in our faces.
pioneers oh pioneers make sure you check the tag on the jeans before you buy[.]"
Of course, Levi's is investing in Braddock, PA. But it seems like their activism not helping for the sake of helping, but helping for the sake of creating an inspiring narrative for their ad campaign.
Don't get me wrong, I love an inspiring narrative, but it seems such a shame that these ads, which trade on authenticity (the clothes are dirty; the people are not (all) models) would involve an effort that is so transparently for advertising's sake.
I forget, though, that this is advertising we're talking about.

BONUS ROUND: In an effort to boost their Americana credibility, Levi's released (for free!) a series of recordings from popular artists as "Levi's Pioneer Sessions: Today's Artists, Yesterday's Tracks." The recordings are all right, but the song choices seem somewhat off-brand. A few of them aren't even American and none of them (that I've listened to) evoke the Dust Bowl look of the Go Forth campaign. That said, free music from some pretty good names is not to be sniffed at.

A post about this video is forthcoming...

Explore: To Work.. Directed by John Hillcoat

Banjo Update

The banjo, I am learning, is a very customizable instrument, amenable to tinkering. I took the neck off the banjo in the first week. I removed, repaired, and replaced the head. It's just like a drumhead. The bridge slides out, and when it wasn't working, I took a hacksaw to it to deepen the grooves. Replacement tuning pegs are available for purchase. The strings, as with any string instrument, are replaceable, and retuneable in numerous combinations (so far I've about G, C, and D tunings, with more on the way, no doubt). The resonator is removeable, as is the metal ring to which the resonator mounts. My banjo is missing the "truss rod," which all the beginner banjo diagrams show running parallel to the neck underneath the head. It seems to be fine despite this. My first day here, I made a test bridge out of scrap from the shop. It seems to work fine. Already, I like this instrument, and I can't play anything on it.

This way of doing things is my way of doing things. If the banjo isn't working, it's not beyond me to take off all the lugs and tear it apart.  Parts, not wholes, are replaceable, and are simple enough that I can figure out how to make do or do without. A Depression mentality for a hobo's instrument. If the recession is the new Depression, then the banjo deserves to make a comeback

Woodworking Update

(top: the shop. bottom: the train)
I’ve graduated from sanding to more general apprentice tasks: screwing, drilling, use of table, band, and radial arm saws, etc. I’ve also (with supervision) begun creating projects in a start-to-finish kind of way. This is what I love. I’m working on a table. I made two little househould organizer things. And I helped with this train. Most of the planning was done, but I got to make a few decisions about execution (and see the smokestack? I cut that flare by hand!). There's a bench inside for the engineer.

Gogol Bordello's Tiny Desk Concert

This video may be the peak of the Tiny Desk Concert series. Not to be culturally essentialist, but there is something about Eastern European music that fuels (or is fueled by?) wild improvisation and dancing. Watch in the above video as Gogol Bordello bandleader Eugene Hutz hops onto the desk in NPR’s music offices (16:31). Watch his face at 16:54 and on as he looks into the crowd and then back to his band. When I first watched this video, I was struck by that face. I know how Hutz was feeling in that moment. I’ve felt that while playing with the Balkan Band. Watch his face at 21:03 -- there is a merging of audience and performer that creates a pure kind of joy. It is the give and take -- controlling and being controlled by, that Hutz was looking for at 7:23, where he pulls his hat to his head in despair and says to the non-responsive audience, “you guys are impossible.” Watch the beginning-- the band all behind the desk, where all Tiny Desk Concert bands stand, even during the relatively raucous Immgraniada. By the end, the accordion player has wandered into the audience. The violinist has the backup singer carrying his portable amp around the room. Hutz stands on the desks. The spatial (re)distribution of the band says as much about the music as the sounds they are making does.