Watkins & the Rapiers Grammy 1958 show at the Little Theaer Café in Rochester New York
Last night Watkins & the Rapiers pulled out all the stops as they recreated the 1958 Grammys Show at the Little Theater. With special guests including Stan Merrell (Nel Blu Dipinto Di Blu “Volaré”) and Shawn the Café manager, the usual guests, Connie Deming (Peggy Lee’s “Fever”) and Richard Storms (Frank Sinatra’s “Old Black Magic”) and sensational performances by the band as they covered some rich musical territory. Shawn brought the house down with his version of Frank’s “Come Fly With Me.” I have never heard an ovation like that for any other performance here.
Watkins goes for it on a weekly basis. There is always a theme, costumes or new songs, sometimes whole new lyrics to someone else’s songs. The six piece band is made up of unlikely but full-fledged entertainers. They have a die-hard contingent of fans in the front half of the room and usually pack the house. You won’t find more ear to ear smiles at any other venue.
About seventy five of us were seated in a warm room on an eighty degree day, all chairs facing toward a big screen tv. “Called to Serve” featured Sandra Day O’Conner, John Roberts and Samuel Alito extolling the virtues of our trial by jury system. Former jurors talked about their experience. Everyone looked especially large because the video had been stretched from its 4×3 original format to 16×9. The guy sitting next to me was all decked out in Harley Davidson gear and holding onto a hardback copy of Ace Frehley’s autobiography, “No Regrets.” I spotted only a handful of African Americans in the crowd.
When the video ended we were led into the courtroom where we watched some people shuffle papers for about twenty minutes. The judge came in, apologized for the delay and briefly explained the case. Three cops, who were seated directly in front of me, were accused of using excessive force when they arrested this guy in 2007 for some sort of domestic issue. The guy, sitting alone at a big table with a box of papers, was wearing a green jump suit and currently serving a prison term on an unrelated charge. We were told that was of no concern to us.
They called sixteen names, mine included, and we were seated in the jury box. I think they were working their way toward seating only eight jurors. The judge asked each of us many questions based on the forms we had filled out. Would we be available for the next few weeks? I said I might have some conflicts but would try to move them. He asked what I did when I worked for the police department in the seventies. I told him I pulled mugshots and made flyers for about a year until the grant for my graphic arts position ran out.
A woman who said she was breaking out in hives was let go. A man who said his fourth ammendment rights were violated when he went through the metal detector downstairs was let go but I made the cut up to the break. The jury box faced a wood paneled wall with a big built-in clock. It read five to noon and I believed it until I saw smaller clock below it. It was still only ten o’clock. Despite the extensive downtime, relatively few people brought reading material and of course phones were confiscated at the door. The woman sitting next to me in the jury box was reading “Ghostbread.” I told her I loved the book and she said, “I’m reading it for the second time.”
Next came a round of personal questions from the judge. What do you do for a living, are you married, what are you hobbies? About half had no hobbies at all. One guy answered, “I enjoy not working.” That got a good laugh. Most people answered all the questions enthusiastically. I got the sense they really wanted to be on this jury for the next three or four weeks. I can’t say I was looking forward to being trapped in the Federal Building for the next month hearing this sad case.
The two defense attorneys and the prisoner approached the bench for a round of whispering and when they returned the judge told me I was excused. I rode my bike down Main Street and out Joseph Avenue, scene of the 1964 race riots and then the Urban Renewal blight. I was feeling a bit guilty about not making the good citizen grade.
The Flash Mob with Todd Bradley Western New York Flash home opener 2015
We had to leave home before the race started so we missed this year’s running of the Kentucky Derby. Peggi and I went to it on our first date, the year Secretariat won, and lately we’ve been in the habit of driving or riding our bikes down to the lake to watch the race at O’Laughlins overlooking the river and Port of Rochester. But this year we had a conflict. The Flash were playing their home opener.
Kerry Regan and Claire pulled into the parking space next to us and they didn’t have tickets either so we bought four from a guy on the street for ten dollars each. Without Abby Wambach and Carli Lloyd and all the players they traded away, the attendance was way down so we ignored the seat assignments and sat where we wanted. And as luck would have it forwards Sidney Leroux and Jasmyne Spencer switched sides so we had a great view of the action.
The match was against Boston so I was hoping to see my favorite player in the league, Heather O’Reilly, but apparently they traded her to Kansas City. Kansas City will be here Friday to meet the Flash but by then all the national team players will be training for this summer’s World Cup.
The Flash played pretty good in the first half but dominated the game in the second and scored three goals against Boston’s Alyssa Naeher, the national team’s backup to Hope Solo. All three of the goals were solid. Sydney’s was picture perfect as she moved right and shot back to the left near the post. Kristin Edmonds is back on defense and playing like she really wants the ball. She’s always moving to an open space and covers a lot of ground. She plays like O’Reilly and I would put her at midfield if I was coach.
The Flash Mob, shown above, sounded better than ever last night, even added some new samba beats so it was no surprise to see Todd Bradley playing with them. He’s recently put together a Bossa Nova combo with his two brothers and Brian Williams.
Trout Lilies and Spring Beauty in Edmunds Woods, Rochester, New York
Because we help the Historic Brighton organization with their website we were included in an email from a board member, my father, alerting members about the Spring explosion of color in the Edmunds Woods. The fact that the small patch of mature woods behind a row of doctors’ offices on the corner of Clinton and Westfall is virtually unnoticed by most residents makes its delivery of the goods more spectacular. I’m talking about wildflowers and they are almost all in full bloom now.
There are very few deer nearby so the flowers and undergrowth remain uneaten. The woods is made up of mature trees but you have to hurry because the the trees are full of buds and will soon snuff out the light on the undergrowth. Squirrel Corn, May Apples, Ramps or Wild Leeks, Spring Beauty, White and Red Trillium, Cut-Leaved Toothwort, Blood Root, Trout Lilies and Blue Cohosh sometimes intermingled in a glorious display. You have only a few days left to witness this.
There is a John Baldessari painting in the current show at the Memorial Art Gallery. It struck me as kind of dumb but fun. I’ve seen a few videos of Baldessari talking about art and I really like listening to him. I found this video this morning and I really love it. John Baldessari talks about why Philip Guston is the boss.
Scat singer and drummer at Eastman School of Music Spontaneous Duos
Our Jazz Fest buddy, Hal, saw one of these Spontaneous Duo concerts in New York and he got the idea going up here last year. The performance order was assigned by a moderator five minutes before the start of the event. One musician started by playing alone. Five minutes later he was joined by another musician. After five more minutes the first musician left and another player joined the second. There was always a duo playing, the music never stopped for an hour and a half. It was like an open jam for music students (and some faculty members) but not on blues tunes, they were improvising freely.
It was bass and drums when we walked in, then drums and piano, cello and piano, piano and a clarinet player who doubled on plastic water bottle, soprano sax and clarinet, banjo and stand up bass, drums and banjo, voice and drums, flute and voice, trumpet and flute, ending with tenor sax by Vince Ercolomento. All with transitions were so seamless there wasn’t space to applaud.
Painting behind bar at Carpani’s Restaurant in Rochester, New York
The Lake Ontario Parkway ends at Lake Road in Rochester. We crossed it and the river on the Colonel O’Rorke Bridge and pulled into the Stutson Street Plaza. Can’t go here without thinking about the time we took mescaline and watched a matinee of 2001 in the old Stutson Street Theater. And then I start thinking of the summer job I had with Brad Fox cleaning this parking lot in the middle of the night.
But tonight we were here for a birthday dinner at Carpani’s, formerly Cipriani’s. We split an order of Sautéed Calamari with Calumet olives, red onion, pepperoncinis, chopped fresh tomatoes, garlic and oil and a dish called “Pasta Alla Zia Teresa” with mushrooms, broccoli and olio sauce. Both were very good. If I was still keeping track of these things Carpani’s would have a place of honor.
We got lost in this painting during dinner and made it home for two more episodes of “Bloodline”. 65. Done that.
My dad’s car is in the shop so he invited us over to their place to celebrate my birthday with a milkshake and sandwich. The weekly special was an Italian Hogie, the same thing Robert Durst shoplifted from Wegmans when he got popped. The bistro at their place was packed so we ate lunch in the library by the fireplace.
It was a beautiful day, warm enough to go without a hat and a clear blue sky. We left my parents’ place and traveled west on the 104 past the ruins of Kodak Park and Ridgemont Plaza and onward, just wandering as is our custom on April 28. We turned right on a small road that surely would have taken us to the lake if we stuck with it but we got on Route 18, the “Roosevelt Highway” and paralleled the shoreline until we got to Lakeside Beach State Park.
The park wasn’t officially open so there was no entry fee and most of it was lawn with concrete slabs scattered about and chainlink nets for something called disc golf. We tried to ignore all that and climbed down the bank to the lake where we found some shotgun shells, golf balls, drug bags and all sorts of tiny plastic trash.
We walked for a few hours and worked up a thirst so we stopped in Oak Orchard and bought a couple of bottles of Guinness from a girl with large peace sign earrings. We drank the beer by a nearby bridge and watched a turtle sun himself. This very sleepy little town was just coming alive for the season with bait shops, boat rentals and sailboat ride places.
We took the Lake Ontario State Parkway back into town and were amazed at how rough the road was. A bit forlorn but still a beautiful highway. Each bridge is slightly different from the next and all faced with stone. Many are in disrepair today. The Parkway was built in the late forties at what was surely an optimistic time, a time when you might just hop in the car on sunny afternoon and take a drive.
We went to “The Human Touch” opening on the later side in order to still be downtown when Nod took the stage at Abilene around midnight. The Memorial Art Gallery’s new show features part of the collection of RCB Wealth Management, whatever that is. Their website says “The Human Touch reflects the rich diversity of our clients, employees and the people who make up our everyday lives.” And that it does, but the effort to be diverse became the show rather than the selection of art. I only went to their website after seeing the show so now I’m wondering. Did the diversity effort look so obvious on the wall because all other shows are so insular? I don’t know. I only hoped to see some good art and I did see some.
Robert Longo, Chuck Close, Elizabeth Peyton, Nan Goldin, Kehinde Wiley, Carrie Mae Weems, John Baldesari were all represented but I was more intrigued by Willie Birch’s black and white acrylic and charcoal on paper drawing of two women, Till Freiwald’s large watercolor on paper studies of a live model for even larger (8 feet tall watercolors) and Luis Gispert’s giant, Spanish tinged, animated photo, “Living Room” from his Urban Myths series.
Nod was fantastic, more energetic than ever in their twenty-fifth year. They are the perfect trio. Each part is internal to their sound. Joe’s guitar playing is unique as hell, one of a kind. And although you can hardly ever hear what he is singing you can always hear the sweetness the melody he adds to his angular guitar playing. Tim Poland is a really melodic bass player and he propels the band with his lines while keeping the train on he tracks. Brian is rock solid on drums, never ruffled by Joe’s adventurous turns, he can fill up a song with fills without getting in the way. Nod’s sound gets under you skin and goes to your whole body. If no one breaks the ice you are left dancing in your head.
The parking lot at Sea Breeze Amusement Park was full last night and at first I thought it might be open for the season but I know that doesn’t happen until Memorial Day. Then I spotted a sign that read “Summer Employee Applicants Parking.”
My father called and asked if we wanted to go down to Vic’s Place for dinner. Peggi thought we were talking about Nick’s so my dad decided to go there. The place was packed. I have never seen it that crowded. “Slammed” as they say in the restaurant business. Nick never even got over to our table to shoot the shit. My parents always forget to ask them to hold the olives on their salads and that works out good for me as they both pick them out and pass them on. Peggi and I both had the Manicotti and brought half of it home.
After dinner we rode down to the bridge that has swung open for the year and my father said, “Every year Chuck Schumer and the woman from Marge’s get their picture taken out on the bridge (as they make their case for a year-round bridge) and nothing ever happens.” As we looked out at the bay he told us how strange it was that no one has ever developed this idyllic spot. As we drove by Vic’s’ new spot on “hot dog row” it looked as though they were doing a good business as well. I think people around here just like it funky.
As beautiful as they looked, in full bloom surrounded by the snow, I did not take a photo of our daffodils this morning. I “old school” savored the site. By the time we got up to the park the snow had melted and cherry blossoms took center stage. Shelley scoured the base of some exotic pine trees looking for the pinecones to serve as handles on the exquisite pine needle baskets that she makes and sells in Adirondack gift shops as well as the Memorial Art Gallery’s gift shop. The base of the Austrian Pine trees offered perfect specimens.
Took a tour of the earth this afternoon, up through the arboretum and fruticetum in the park where everything is popping, and I came back with this picture. We plan to celebrate Earth Day later on at the Little Theatre Café. Pete LaBonne will be joining Margaret Explosion on the grand piano. If you’re not familiar with Pete’s work there is no better place to start than Chris Schepp’s review of Pete’s 20 cd compilation, “Gigunda.”
Fallen trees in woods near Durand Eastman Park, early Spring
So scientists aren’t sure whether this will be a good or bad year for ticks. The constant snow cover could have insulated them for a bumper crop or the fact that the white mice population was down last year may mean relatively few ticks. The article in the paper said you can pick them up in your lawn so I don’t know if we’re asking for more trouble by scouring the woods for deer racks or “sheds” as the local rackaholics call them. We have found ten or so since moving up here and only on a few occasions have we wandered off trails just for that purpose. They are just there like golf balls and 22 ounce Budweiser cans. We did find two in the last few days by leaving the trail.
Gap Mangione emailed about helping with a new album and I thought he was asking us to put a link to the new album on his website so I said “yes.” But he was asking if we would do the artwork for the cd so we had a project. He’s getting inducted in the local Music Hall of Fame this weekend and he wants to have product for the ceremony. The cd was recorded live in Toronto with a quintet and it sounds really good. Peggi did most of the work and the cd should be out by the weekend.
Speaking of piano. The grand piano at the Little Theatre is worth a hundred and fifty thousand. It needs about twenty thousand dollars of work though if they want to sell it for the 150. They are considering it but meanwhile Pete LaBonne will be here on Wednesday night to sit in with Margaret Explosion on piano. Pete was an original member and he takes the band to uncharted territory.
Personal Effects album “This Is It” on Earring Records 1984 EAR 1
Personal Effects – “Main Trail” outtake from Personal Effects “This Is It”Leave a comment
“I remember when that song was just bad.” Ben Stiller’s character in “While We’re Young” couldn’t resist telling Adam Driver’s character this when he heard Toto’s “Eye of the Tiger.” And the funny thing is it does sound good now. Noah Boaumbach’s movie is a real mashup of generations and hipness, dying art forms and new technology, a real clash of those with their best years receding and those with them ahead. It has been awhile since we came out of a movie we immediately wanted to see again. You want to be able to recall more lines so you can toss them off in similar situations the way Dave Mahoney, who died nine years years tomorrow, used to do.
This is Boaumbach’s best movie yet, better than the “Squid and The Whale,” way better than “Francis Ha” and giant leap from “Greenberger,” the real precursor to this one. Ben Stiller is fearless. Not afraid to do anything on screen. If it isn’t him speaking, his facial reactions, his expressions, his body language, the way he walks, rides a bike or dances, he is so on he steals every scene.
Louise‘s brother, a frequent Boaumbach extra, is in the movie, this time playing a goofy shaman who oversees a ceremony where mushrooms are ingested, the participants puke and the shaman takes off with a young girl on his moped.
The Bop Shop used to host a musty old record show twice a year in the Village Gate atrium. The clientele got older and older and consequently dwindled as record sales plummeted. The Chesterfield Kings drummer, the first and best one, was always there. He passed away years ago and the Bop Shop was unveiling his collection yesterday on Record Store Day. We never made it over there. Those record fairs were fun for a while but they were pretty depressing on a nice day. Everything is different now. I have never seen more people at Record Archive. They even stationed Frank DeBlase at the door for some added muscle.
We didn’t get going until after noon so I missed the Captain Beefheart vinyl, “Rough, Raw & Amazing,” the House of Guitars was allowed. And I never saw the Bernard Herrmann, “Psycho” 7-inch. I found the Beefheart package at Archive but hesitated when I read the Joh Peel’s liner notes… “Although it takes intense listening in the early part of of the show owing to the recording quality …” It sounds like the microphone was in someone’s pocket while he was standing outside De Montfort Hall in Leicester while the Magic Band played inside. Songs are mislabeled. Beefheart’s pictured on the cover paying sax and plays it on four cuts yet he is only credited with sax and vocals but I’m still happy with my purchase.
I saw Beefheart on four different tours, in Cincinnati (with the Hampton Grease Band and the Screamin’ Gypsy Bandits) on the Trout Mask tour, Columbus, Ohio on the ‘Decals” tour, the Dome Area here in Rochester when he did that bone-headed project with Zappa and then at the Red Creek in 1977. I brought my little mono cassette recorder to Red Creek and placed it on the table in front of Brad Fox (listen for him). My recording (below) is infinitely better than the 180 gram yellow vinyl, gatefold, double lp. As they say. “For diehard fans only.”
Five dollar ticket for Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band at Red Creek Inn in Rochester, New York 1977
Captain Beefheart performing Low Yo Yo at Red Creek in Rochester, New York 19771 Comment
Detail of Colleen Buzzard drawing at MCC Mercer Gallery in Rochester, New York
We missed the first half of Colleen Buzzard‘s artist talk at MCC’s Mercer Gallery last week. When we walked in she was talking about infinity. Her drawings take her to interesting places because she is always asking questions. Her “what happens if I …” process takes her there.
She makes lines and then follows them with other lines and they take shape and form often leaving the page. Strings hold cutout drawings in place and three dimensional drawings cling to corners and spring from the floor. It took her two days to hang this show, a measure of the intricacy of her work. The reward is commensurate with the effort.
Witch hazel trees on Wisner Road in Rochester, New York
One hundred and fifty years ago a train carrying Lincoln’s body stopped in Rochester on its way to his final resting place in Illinois. Thousands of mourners gathered at the train station to pay their respects. In our age of Clinton and Bush dynasties and ObamaHate the very idea of the presidency has changed. I’m thinking about a train rolling into town with Claire Underwood’s body on it.
The husband and wife team responsible for the House of Cards soundtrack met at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester and they are back in town for a free concert of film music on Sunday night at Kodak Hall. They promise a half hour suite of House of Cards themes. He also scored Ed Harris’s dramatic creation/painting scenes in the “Pollock” movie. Jeff Beal’s brilliant theme, used behind the open credits, just sweeps you away with its dramatic subwoofer percussion and dark foreboding melody.
Four Paul Dodd 6×6 entries for 2015 Rochester Contemporary 6×6 Show
About ten years ago we helped Pete and Shelley put a roof on their new Adirondack home. They were both afraid of heights and probably still are. There was no plywood involved, the roof was sheeted with rough cut cedar boards. I love the look and feel of this stuff and the smell when you cut it and all the cutting was done by hand because they are off the conventional grid. They bought the wood at a local saw mill and I asked them if they could bring me some the next time they came our way. I put the wood in the garage and have not used it until now.
I went out there to pick out a piece to cut into six inch lengths thinking I would do my RoCo 6×6 entries on wood this year. The wood was not as wide as I remembered. My pieces were more like six by five. So I glued two pieces together and cut it down to six by sixes. The seams were clearly visible so I thought maybe I would use them as a horizon line. But what to paint?
I usually wait until the last minute to do these things but I had a day or so to think about it. The wood pieces are a little over an inch thick so they are three dimensional. I considered dipping them in the Rustoleum oil paint that we use to paint our metal lawn chairs and horseshoes but I didn’t have time for one color to dry before I dipped the other. I knew I wanted to switch colors at the horizon line because the wood grain changes so radically. I settled on hand painting them with colors straight out of the tube. They remind me of the building blocks we played with as kids.
Peggi’s entries are faces, two of them, our friends’ faces, and they look great.
Small lake with ice in Spring, Rochester, New York
There is often a point in the evening when associations get loose and sometimes even free. On Friday night Louise was sitting across from us wearing her brown Luna t-shirt and talking about the end-of-the-working-week sensation. I said something contrary like, “it’s really just another night” and I think she said, “that’s oldsome.” (like a seasoned “awesome”) I may have heard this wrong but I thought it was brilliant. I feel like I am in that sweet spot, just daffy enough to have a sense of well being, not able to clearly hear as well as I used to and easily astonished but not so easily shaken. Oldsome!
