While filing away some records I came across a sleeve with a stamp on it from a record store on Genesee Street. When Duane lived up here we used to haunt the reggae shops on the west side, his old neighborhood. Their primary business was selling weed under the counter but they advertised themselves as record shops and they had Jamaican imports and a sound system to back up the claim, big dirty, bottom heavy sound systems. They displayed their wares like the photo above except this one was taken in Duane’s office/media/spare bedroom in 1999 after he had moved to Brooklyn. It took me a bit to find the photo as it was tucked away in a folder called “DC210Photos, my first megapixel camera, a Kodak DC 210.
We were talking to Dick Storms at Brian Williams’ bash and I asked, how come you don’t have a Jazz 45 section over there. He was taken aback and acted surprised, saying, are you sure? He said he knew they had boxes of them in a closet in the back room. So many that he began fantasizing about filling the juke box in the back room with jazz 45s. I have spent quite a few hours in that closet now I have only come up with Duke Ellington’s “Indian Summer” and a wacky version of Gato Barbieri’s “Last Tango in Paris” by the Ventures. Rochester’s Gerry Niewood plays sax on that one. Not complaining. I realize how old world my quest has become.
Autumn is wrapped in melancholy. We haven’t put on our storms but we’ve already had a few fires. We’re watching a little more tv too. Criterion had a Scorsese thing going and we had just finished “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore” when along comes the Apple documentary on him. Each episode is so jam packed we could only do one a day.
Jumping from the kid who seemed so real in “Alice” to the kid in Netflix’s “Adolescence” illustrates how times have changed. The series is fabulous until the very end where the dad tries to explain himself. Adolescence looked even more brilliant coming after “Black Rabbit” which had every reason to be good but instead felt empty. A big budget, big actors and directors (Jude Law, Jason Bateman, Laura Linney) and a dramatic thriller of a story but no soul. They manufactured an intense pace with quick cuts and twist while Adolescence got real with hardly any cuts.
Noah, Melissa,Andrew, Ben and Patrick at Wren Cove Record Release Party at Red White and Brew
We first heard Wren Cove when we shared a gig at Joy Gallery on West Main. They played first and we asked Melissa to sit in with us for our slot. That was three years ago and we’ve heard them many times since. If they don’t have a gig the same night as us Melissa has become a regular in our band.
For a duo Wren Cove provides an incredibly wide pallette of dreamy soundscapes. Andrew’s almost incessant strumming (I am partial to that quality in my own playing) is the foundation of the duo and Melissa’s cello is the “lead singer” as Andrew himself says.
Writing for City, Patrick Hoskin drops astute references to Arthur Russell and Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” in his review of the duo’s new cd, “Movement.” Wren Cove built many of the tracks on their new record around the ancient drum machines shown in the photo above. We have one of them, a Rythmn Ace. It still works even though we’ve jammed it a few times pushing two buttons at once for “Mambo/Slow Rock” or “Samba/Beguine.”. Wren Cove pushes stretches this idea further by manipulating the sound of the drum machine and then having real drummers play on top. This widens the picture frame and can sound like parts stumbling in different directions which only makes it a more compelling listen.
Songs like “Raga in Dm,”Wills,” “Everything We Carry” and especially “Nocturne” with Andrew’s gorgeous piano just sweep us away.
We’ve walked by these red maples for years and never noticed the ones sharing a branch. It is hard to tell which tree is growing into which. The shared branch is about fifteen feet up and we’re usually distracted by the invasive Angelica growing below. Now that we have spotted it we stop and stare for a while. Still wondering which tree initiated the contact.
We ran into Steve Piotrowski in the park this morning. He was looking for Trott Lake. He must have spotted it on a map to the side of Log Cabin Road but the road is closed to cars for that stretch so we suggested he park by the cops that were hanging out. We guessed correctly that he might be about to do some plein-air painting. But not plein-air painting, plein-air “drawing.” Steve told us he had often wondered why his paintings, most done from photos, didn’t really look like the locations and he figured out that the photos were distorting the depth in the settings. So he now does the sketches en plein-air and then paints at home.
Finally, this Sunday we found ourselves in a situation where we could listen to WAYO’s “Up On The Roof” and “Fantastic Voyage.” Heard “Bull Fight” by Cappy Lewis for the first time in our lives!
Robert Frank’s shoes under glass at the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, New York
There are a few myths surrounding Visual Studies Workshop. I remember their first space on Elton Street, but just barely. I clearly remember many shows in their sprawling University Avenue space. Our neighbor, Rick Hock, was director there for a while. It may have been during his tenure when we first saw Robert Franks shoes in a display case. We heard Frank donated the shoes he wore while shooting photos for “The Americans” and then we heard he had left them behind when he was chased out of the apartment he was staying in. Whatever the story I wasn’t prepared for their dandyness. They look like bowling shows.
Founded in 1969 by photographer, educator and curator Nathan Lyons, VSW was one of the earliest not-for-profit, artist-run spaces in the country. Through an affiliation with SUNY Brockport they offered MA and MFA accreditation until 2022. Today they have set up shop at 36 King Street in the Susan B. Anthony neighborhood with over a million photography and film-related objects, exhibition spaces and an auditorium.
Robert Frank in still from 1972 Visual Studies film entitled “About Us”
Tara Merenda Nelson, chief curator at VSW, told us Frank spent some time in Rochester in the early seventies, just after working with the Rolling Stones. He used Super 8 movie stills from his Route 66 (The Americans) trip for the cover of the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. Tara told us Frank refused to teach but instead dove right into projects with the students. The 16mm film “About Us” was made over a three month period in 1971-72. Each student shot a section of the film while re-interpreting the idea of the self portrait. Frank appears throughout as the group encounters security guards at Kodak Park, a gas station owner on Dewey Avenue, and some of the students parents. Just seeing Robert Frank frolicing at Cobbs Hill is a thrill. The film perfectly capturess what Frank calls “the chaos of the present.”
The purple leaves above could be the last of our basil and the tomato plants are mostly brown but they’re still producing fruit. The arugula and lettuces love the cooler weather so there is plenty for salads. Our neighbor needed a cup of cilantro last night for a dish he was making and we were able to provide that. The habanero peppers go a long ways. I chop them into tiny little pieces and my fingertips sizzle when I’m done. The green leaves are mache (pronounced mosh) lettuce and we love it. We planted a row in the early Spring. It went to seed months later and now we have a whole patch in full bloom. Our Padrón pepper plants have provided us with an appetizer each night for the last two months. I guess I’m giving thanks.
Margaret Explosion poster for Wednesday gig at Little Theatre Cafe 10.08.25
“Isn’t planning a way to steal the present’s greatest mission?” – Eduardo Chillida
The beach was crowded over the weekend, as crowded as a summer day. We ran into our yoga teacher down there. His class stopped meeting in the pandemic and never came back. Apparently the space, in a grade school gym, raised the rent. Peggi and I do a little on our own but it is not the same as setting aside a block of time and forcing yourself to relax for the duration.
New acquired work by Anthony Pearson and John Rhoden at MAG
The Biennial Finger Lakes Exhibition at MAG has been up all summer and we finally got over there to see the show before it closes on October 5th. The Sol Lewitt wall drawing on the way in is a marvel and the newly acquired pieces by Anthony Pearson and John Rhoden (above – an especially inspired pairing by the way!) had me really jacked up for a good show.
Entering the Docent Gallery for the Finger Lakes Show and working clockwise the first piece we saw was an impressive Lee Hoag assemblage. A curator could have built a show around this one piece if there was anything else at all to put in dialog with it. Timothy Peterson, MAG’s Curator of Contemporary Art, served as juror this year. The exhibition is open to artists working in all media in a 27-county area in western and upstate New York. There should have been plenty of material for a cohesive show and yet it felt uncomfortable. It was not fun to look at. And now I have to explain my reaction.
“Tabula Rasa, Durand Eastman Park, Lake Ontario” pinhole photo by Joseph Ziolkowski in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
I rule out academic, cute and garish and I am drawn toward either expressive or distilled. Stopping me in my tracks is a good starting point and if I find myself looking at something for long time I call that a winner. I like Joe Ziolkowski’s pinhole photo.
“Seville Oranges” acrylic painting by Pauline Wegman in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
I could live with Pauline Wegman’s painting of Spanish oranges.
“Deutschland in Miniature” photograph by Francis Pellegrino in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
Francis Pellegrino’s photo still has me puzzled. The glossy presentation looks like an image on a monitor or a Lightbox. I really couldn’t be sure that it was of a miniature. The sensation is like something a surveillance camera would catch. I’m not done with this one.
Matthew’s text read, “Wow. Crazy Madrid Derby!” He knows not to give away too much. We usually watch La Liga matches from ESPN’s “On Demand” section, hours or days after they were played live. We follow the two big Madrid clubs and when they meet – our allegiance is solidly in Atletico’s camp. Matthew knows this so how should we have read Matthew’s text?
I took it to mean there were a few goals and the match went back and forth and maybe it ended in a draw. We were overjoyed to see Atletico win 4-2, Real’s first loss of the season. The following day we watched Barcelona beat San Sebastian’s team and move ahead of Madrid into first place. Following that we watched Barca and PSG meet early in the Champions League and we reacquainted ourselves with the idea that Paris is still the best team in the world.
We were reading how octopus, a favorite dish in Spain and Portugal. is now in abundance off the coast of England, a consequence of global warming. Lyme disease didn’t used to be in the Adirondacks either. Our friend got that this summer. We spent the afternoon pulling invasive plants on our property. Garlic mustard, wisteria, black swallowwort, euonymus (burning bush) and the poisonous snakeroot. We suit up for that. And we took our last swim of the year to wash the ticks off. Temperatures are expected to reach into the eighties this weekend.
I have always marveled the way our friends choose to live – for the past thirty years or so, off the grid. I would not choose to live that way but I admire it, not just the small footprint but its purity, a minimalism that opens your senses to overwhelming beauty.
Maybe it was a just a confluence of annoying appointments this summer, doctors etc. – it seems anything would be an intrusion in this idyllic setting – but not all years in the woods are the same. Maybe it is Father Time rattling his scythe. We are close in age and that is top of mind. Maybe it the outside stepping on their toes. Tech advances do not lift all boats.
For now, the local libraries are still stocked with the classics of literature. Infinite Jest is still on their shelf at home and mushroom reference books are at the ready. There is plenty of wood for winter.
Half order of Biscuits, sausage and gravy at Flo’s Diner in Canastota, New York
It is a five hour trip to Crown Point if you take the back roads. We left after our first cup of coffee, had one more on the road and then stopped midway in Canastota near Cicero at Flo’s Diner. How could we not stop there? A low slung building from the 50s with outdoor seating and giant white hen standing by the road. Only after pulling over did I see the sign that read “Home of the 10¢ Coffee. I just had to google where is the cent key is on my keyboard in order to type that last sentence – that’s how old- fashioned this place is.
Inside. the space was huge with tables in two dining rooms and most of them were full. We sat at the long counter. Desserts, that looked like they were made in someone’s home, lined the counter, the way the tapas are displayed in Spanish restaurants. And copies of newspapers were there for customer to read.
The chalkboard behind us listed the day’s specials. “Biscuits, Sausage and Gravy” caught our eye. The woman who was smoking a cigarette outside when we arrived waited on us. We asked if we could split an order and we each had a cup of coffee. We paid for our lunch at the end of counter. The total was $6.40. I put the change from a ten dollar bill in the big coffee can next to the cash register. I took a picture of Peggi standing next to the big chicken before we drove off.
My desktop computer started acting funny. Wouldn’t search for files, windows from different apps would interleave, so my pallets from Photoshop would be on top of browser windows, that sort of thing. I ordered a new one and tracked the delivery. It was in China one day and at my front door two days later. Because I didn’t want to migrate my problems from on machine to the next I chose to set it up as new and reinstall all my apps. It has been a mess for days but I am coming up for air to post something. I’m not going to talk about comedians getting canceled but I am thinking about it.
We got to Scott McCarney’s lecture a little late. We were walking along the lake. He was already in the post-presentation, taking-questions-from-the-audience phase. Pretty impressive, the number of people that came out at two in the afternoon on a gorgeous last of summer day. We will watch his presentation when Flower City Arts Center posts it to YouTube.
We knew quite a few of the people there, that’s the way it works in Rochester, so we hung around afterward talking. Elizabeth, who bought our house in the city twenty years ago, told us she was painting the house so we drove by on our way home. It is a bold butter yellow, bold for Rochester. Ethylene was out front of her house, on the corner, showing her garden to a friend. We slowed to a crawl to say hello but Ethylene wanted to give us a hug so we stopped. Peggi and I were both thinking the same thing. “Did her husband, Willie, pass away?” We both breathed a sigh of relief when she pointed to a wilting plant and said, “Willie must have forgotten to water that .” And just like that he appeared. We talked about the old neighbors and the new and for the next hour we felt like we had never moved away.
Street performances happen all the time in European countries. Ours are reserved for the Fringe Festival. Last night the Italian aerialists, eVenti Verticali, performed downtown at Parcel 5. An inflatable orb was suspended from a large crane, hoisted into the air behind a triumphant musical score while acrobats swung from wires while creating time-lapse like flower formations in and around the orb. It was rather sensational.
We dropped Steve off at the airport yesterday and slept for more than ten hours last night. It was the tail end of a string of visitors and we enjoyed every bit of it. Duane was up for a wedding and we spent a few days with him without ever getting down to the pool. The weather changed when my brother and his wife drove up from NJ so we did get to spend some quality time at the pool. They let their dog out at night and then fell back asleep so we woke up early to search the neighborhood. Our niece drove up from NYC and got here hours after Steve. She slept on the couch and Steve slept in the basement. We all went out to my brother, Fran’s, house for his annual corn roast. The star of this show is his ribs but the corn, soaked in the husks in a large barrel and then roasted over a wood fire, was the best corn I have ever had in my life.
Steve was my college roommate and the best man at our wedding. Bluffed my way through high school. Could have graduated after my junior year but was having way to much fun and I was determined to apply myself as a college freshman. Steve was already a junior. He put a big homemade stereo speaker on my desk. He had a car, a white Barracuda with and 8-track player. He wrote an English paper for me (sci-fi themed of course) and I got my highest grade. My agenda went out the window. I needed a fresher course in Hoy.
This blog format suggests I assign posts to a category. I get to make up the categories. The ones I use most are “Life is a Spell,” “We Live Like Kings,” and “Field Recordings of the Future” although they are assigned arbitrarily. One category I hardly use but have for this post is “Irondequoit Melon.” Our sandy soil and temperate conditions near Lake Ontario made our area ideal for melon farming. The Irondequoit melon developed a reputation for being exceptionally sweet and fragrant. They became a regional delicacy—sold in Rochester’s public market and were shipped to nearby cities. In the late 30s the soil became infested with a fungus, fusarium wilt, and the melon seeds were retired.
Aman’s Farm Market has been selling “Irondequoit Type Melons” this season and we are working on our third one. They incredible juicy and sweet.
“Train” from 2003 Margaret Explosion release “Happy Hour”
We performed a version of “Train” at the Little a few weeks ago. I still have the wooden whistle I got from the Railroad Museum. It prompted me listen to the original, from our 2003 cd “Happy Hour.” I threw that file and a few train videos I had into iMovie and came up with this.
Tom Kohn was spinning forty-fives at Skylark last night so headed over there after dinner. We hung out behind the two turntables and I helped Tom put records back win their sleeves. He had all sorts of music mashed up together and some crazy segues. Black Sabbath “Paranoid” into Wreckless Eric’s “Take the Cash.” He had some crazy 45s like Lou Reed and John Cale before the Velvets and Jon Hendricks with the Grateful Dead. But I just couldn’t believe my eyes and ears when he pulled out a Verve Records VU and Nico promo copy of “Sunday Morning” and “Femme Fatale.”
Minimalism always works. It maximizes the impact of the elements. I photographed Pete Monacelli’s drum set during Debbie Kendrick’s break when they played the Little Theatre Café. Yes, this is his whole set now. Pete was a master of the hi-hat. Coming up in the swing era he kept time with it. I use my hi-hat more like a noise-maker. Pete is short one leg these days so he has stripped down his uncle’s 1930’s set to just the snare and this cymbal mounted to the snare. He has great feel and still sounds like he’s playing a full set, especially when playing his beat up brushes, right hand sweeping while playing the butt end of the left hand brush on the rim. It is a wonder.
And another wonder is kids. I need reminding of how much fun they are. Their boundless energy, their openness, their wackiness are all gifts. Melissa, who plays cello with Margaret Explosion, brought her two over again for a swim and we picked up right where we left off. Our niece was here earlier in the summer with her kids and my sister brought three of her grandkids over after that. And with each visit I realize how much responsibility they are. How they need elders to draw boundaries and establish limits. That too is a gift. Having grown up as the oldest of seven these revelations all come back with ease.
Am I the only one who thinks this trailer looks really cool? It’s a little beat up. It obviously has a leak in the roof because they have the blue tarp up there. They have recently spray painted the whole thing. Black. I didn’t get close enough when I took this photo (I was on their property) so I can’t be sure but it looks like they spray painted it with the propane tank in place. I love how the blue painters tape on the windows matches the tarp on top. I can only image what it looks like inside.
Resist graffiti on on sidewalk at Durand Eastman Beach
We walked early yesterday to beat the heat and came across this graffiti near the beach. We couldn’t figure out what the first word was but we got the “Resist” message.
Swimmer pulling a “No Kings” protest sign at Durand Eastman Beach
As we walked along the beach we passed this guy swimming while towing a plastic dolphin. I tried to read the sign but couldn’t. I assumed it was a Bills thing. The guy saw me taking a photo and stopped long enough to shout “No Kings.”
I set the alarm on my watch for 2:50 so we wouldn’t forget to tune into Kyle Brown‘s three o’clock show “Up on the Roof” on WAYO. We love it so much. Kyle opened this week’s show with Jimmy Smith’s “Walk on the Wild Side,” too long to have been on a 45 and too clean. He plays mostly 45s and playfully skips around from soul to jazz and doo-wop. It’s like a dreamy Sunday afternoon drive in the country and provides items for my want list of used 45s.
We stopped in Stephen Merritt’s backyard gallery for a show with Maureen Church and Sari Gaby. Of course there was plenty of Merritt’s work there as well. Maureen paints mostly en plein air these days, lots of beautiful river scenes. And Sari had some gorgeous charcoal drawings based on Edward Curtis’s photos of Native Americans. Mostly we talked.
We stopped at Herrema’s on the way home to pick up a few things and decided to leave the car in the lot and take a walk. We were trying decide whether to walk across the street and down to Shumway’s Marina or to walk in the other direction up the river toward the city. We opted for the later. I know the City has been talking forever about developing the trails along the river but I think they are fine just the way they are. Sort of Huckleberry Finn country with the river to your right and glimpses of people’s funky backyards to your left. We even came across an old tire attached to a rope and tied to an oak limb above us.
We’re sitting on our porch in the dark as I finish this entry and we can hear Joan Jett playing in a tent down at the lake. En plein air.
Poster for MargaretExplosion gig at Little Theatre Cafe on August 7, 2025. r. to l. Peggi Fournier – soprano sax, Melissa Davies – cello, Ken Frank – double bass, Paul Dodd – drums. Photo by Jason Wilder
Jason Wilder banged off a series of band photos before one of our gigs a few months back (in sweater weather). I did a half-assed silhouette of this one and I cropped out Jack because he can’t make this gig on Thursday.
Our next door neighbor, Rick, called us from the Bop Shop yesterday. We were down in the garden picking pimientos de Padron and he was picking up something for his WITR radio show. He reminded me that the Bop Shop Sidewalk sale started today and he said Tom was going to be in at 10 if I wanted to stop by before the store opened at noon. I took him up on the invitation.
Nothing is out on the sidewalk but the aisles of the store are clogged with boxes of lps, stuff that won’t fit on the shelves of the huge store. The forty-fives are on tables near the back of the store, every one of them a dollar. They will get progressively cheaper as the sale goes on. Of course all the good stuff, the collectable 45s, are still in the the racks at their standard price. The sale is all about clearing out the junk. One man’s junk is the others’ fortune and there are plenty of treasures.
It was great to have the store to myself for almost an hour but I spent about half that time talking to Tom who was by his own admission “over-caffeinated.” When the store opened it was packed and there were seven or eight people pawing through the 45s. The Modern Lovers first lp was playing on the sound system. I was struck by how fucking good “Pablo Picasso” still sounds. 1976 was almost fifty years ago. John Cale hammering out that repetitive piano part. Jonathan’s brilliant lyrics.
Some people try to pick up girls and get called assholes This never happened to Pablo Picasso He could walk down your street and girls could not resist to stare, and so Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Well, the girls would turn the color of an Avocado when he would drive down their street in his El Dorado He could walk down your street and girls could not resist to stare Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole Not like you
Alright Well, he was only 5’3″, but girls could not resist the stare Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole Not in New York
I listen to everything before I buy so I was only able to get through about a quarter of the dollar 45s but I came up with perfectly clean copies of Freddy Fender’s “Before the Next Teardrop Falls” (most of it sung in Spanish, the loving tongue), Mary Wells “You Beat Me To The Punch,” the Carpenters “This Masquerade,” George and Tammy doing “Near You,” George’s “Things Have Gone To Pieces” and “If Drinking Don’t Kill Me.” And I found a much cleaner copy of “Scotch and Soda” than the one we’ve been listening to.
