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Four years
Jun. 29th, 2010 08:54 amHard to believe that it's been 4 years since I lost Mom to cancer. The last few days have been rough on me, with the memory of this day still raw in my mind and my own recent medical problems getting the best of me mentally. My Mom had a knack for reassuring me that I miss dearly. Be it a kind word, some life experience to call upon, or some homemade soup, Mom could fix just about anything. That's what moms do, I guess. I miss her terribly, and always will.
RIP Alex Chilton
Mar. 18th, 2010 09:57 pmYesterday, the music world lost someone that might be unfamiliar to most people, but his influence is known by many fans of music in the last 40 years. Alex Chilton was once a member of the 60s group The Box Tops, their most popular songs being "The Letter", "Soul Deep" and "Cry Like A Baby". He went on to for a group called Big Star in the 70s to little commercial success, but his stylings drove the band to influence many bands' sound. like R.E.M, The Bangles, and The Posies, among others. Alex guested with The Replacements, who penned a song with his name as the title. It's a fitting tribute to one of the greatest 'unknown' artists that was, indeed, known by millions, if indirectly.
They even remembered him during today's US House of Representative session (C-SPAN video).
Alex was to have played at the SXSW Music Festival. He died of an apparent heart condition at only 59 years old.
The Replacements
"Alex Chilton"
Thanks, Alex, for all those power pop riffs through the years.
They even remembered him during today's US House of Representative session (C-SPAN video).
Alex was to have played at the SXSW Music Festival. He died of an apparent heart condition at only 59 years old.
The Replacements
"Alex Chilton"
Thanks, Alex, for all those power pop riffs through the years.
For Michael
Jul. 7th, 2009 02:22 pmI guess I should broach the much talked about subject these days of Michael Jackson. Even at an early age, I had a fairly sophisticated taste in music, tending towards classical music (I played violin in school and was damn good at it until I gave up in middle school because of the sucky music teacher) and progressive and heavier rock. I still immersed myself in constant music from the radio, and that meant hearing a lot of the Jackson 5 and later on MJ's solo stuff. Here was well produced, catchy pop music that a lot of people felt accessible. Heck, even my Mom used to like some of his stuff. The numbers of the time don't lie, all the way through Thriller his popularity grew worldwide, and the moniker of "The King of Pop" was deserved.
People who become famous in relatively benign ways such as music, movies, writing, etc. tend to handle their fame in many ways. Some burn out early. Some freak and take their lives. Others deal wonderfully through their lives and downplay their fame for a greater good. And some tend to exaggerate odd behavior and if not brought back to a generalized reality they will head off into a world of crazy-go-nuts. This is where MJ ended up. The reasons have been all put forth time and time again. Abusive father. No childhood. Vitaligo. Blackmail. Etc. With all that static no one will ever know the truth. And MJ surrounded himself with lots of enablers that can also foot at least part of the blame.
All in all, I will simply separate the man's life from the man's career. His musical legacy will be around till the end of time. What he's done in his private life essentially is of no concern anymore except in an academic sense. Unfortunately, people will keep dredging up the latter as long as there's a buck to be made from it, and those busybodies who have nothing of interest in their own lives will be there to poke their noses in as usual.
Turning this completely around, upon hearing of Gary Glitter's sexual pecadillos with children and subsequent airtight conviction thereof, I was not-so-secretly hoping that this would finally rid the music and sports world of that horrid "Rock and Roll Pt. 2" song once and for all. And it did so for a while. Now it's back as strong as ever. People have limited memory capacity when it comes to things like this. The product will always tend to separate from it's creator. This is what will always be the case with Michael Jackson and his career of hits, his stage and screen personality and his legacy. The music industry will profit from his work, and the tabloid industry will profit from his life, the latter living parasitically on conjecture, lies and very little truth. As long as there is a market for either of these, it will thrive. History will remember the music most.
People who become famous in relatively benign ways such as music, movies, writing, etc. tend to handle their fame in many ways. Some burn out early. Some freak and take their lives. Others deal wonderfully through their lives and downplay their fame for a greater good. And some tend to exaggerate odd behavior and if not brought back to a generalized reality they will head off into a world of crazy-go-nuts. This is where MJ ended up. The reasons have been all put forth time and time again. Abusive father. No childhood. Vitaligo. Blackmail. Etc. With all that static no one will ever know the truth. And MJ surrounded himself with lots of enablers that can also foot at least part of the blame.
All in all, I will simply separate the man's life from the man's career. His musical legacy will be around till the end of time. What he's done in his private life essentially is of no concern anymore except in an academic sense. Unfortunately, people will keep dredging up the latter as long as there's a buck to be made from it, and those busybodies who have nothing of interest in their own lives will be there to poke their noses in as usual.
Turning this completely around, upon hearing of Gary Glitter's sexual pecadillos with children and subsequent airtight conviction thereof, I was not-so-secretly hoping that this would finally rid the music and sports world of that horrid "Rock and Roll Pt. 2" song once and for all. And it did so for a while. Now it's back as strong as ever. People have limited memory capacity when it comes to things like this. The product will always tend to separate from it's creator. This is what will always be the case with Michael Jackson and his career of hits, his stage and screen personality and his legacy. The music industry will profit from his work, and the tabloid industry will profit from his life, the latter living parasitically on conjecture, lies and very little truth. As long as there is a market for either of these, it will thrive. History will remember the music most.
Long weekend meanderings
Feb. 16th, 2009 10:59 pmI've been rather quiet on the ol' LJ lately, it mostly mirrors how I've been feeling lately.
On Sunday I went to the memorial service for my best friend's mother. I dont know why I am so apprehensive of these things. Yeah, all the churchy stuff and sadness, but in most cases they are all about resolution, comfort and, well, love. It also became a mini-reunion of our high school group of friends, some I havent seen in 29 (!!! It's been that long?!) years, other for more than ten. Funny thing is, they are exactly as I would have imagined them to look with the added years. We talked about our current situations, reminisced of the past, complained about getting old, and renewed our connections. I took a cell-phone shot of most of us, but I misplaced the confounded adapter for the MicroSD card and I am not reconnecting the monster PC with the native reader tonight. I'll post the shot of me and my inseparable cohorts soon enough.
As is typical when I need to keep my mind off of depressing thoughts, I tinker. The weather threw me a curve these past few days with promises of rain and nastiness which did not really materialize. I knew that as soon as I set up the sawbucks and the big miter saw setup outside to do more trim work on the garage, I'd have a downpour to contend with. So instead I have been doing myriad little projects and such that have been on back burners for years. Some minor rewiring of circuits in the basement woodshop/workshop, as well as changing lighting circuits that slowly became overloaded as I added lights. Since I have four more quad fixtures to install and wore and the original circuit shares the lighting with the kitchen and bathrooms, I am installing a separate branch just for the shop lights. I replaced the emergency lighting fixture tonight as well, replaced the temporary lighting setup in a storage area with a pair of two bulb fluorescents and got rid of all the janky extension cords and such. Rewired some of the shop machinery as well, the machine lights I added to the band saw and big drill press got wired into the machine wiring itself instead of having their own separate cords, cutting down on clutter and the need for so many outlets. When the weather is more conducive to such things, I will make several more hauls to the landfill/recycling center to get rid of lots of cruft clogging the basement.
I have an area next to the Lab Of Mayhem currently used for storage. I want to finish it off and make it into an office. I'm tired of having paperwork strewn on the dining room table and want to finally have a dedicated office setup. That will go a long way in making the upstairs more livable and easier to keep neat. It has the advantage of being separated from the house by ten inches of solid concrete, making it ideal for storage of important paperwork and such in case the unthinkable should happen. When completed I will fit the room with a fire-rated steel door and a decent lock as well.
I need this short week coming up. So much in my head that I've been tending to. A nice helping of reality should do the trick, but not all at once.
On Sunday I went to the memorial service for my best friend's mother. I dont know why I am so apprehensive of these things. Yeah, all the churchy stuff and sadness, but in most cases they are all about resolution, comfort and, well, love. It also became a mini-reunion of our high school group of friends, some I havent seen in 29 (!!! It's been that long?!) years, other for more than ten. Funny thing is, they are exactly as I would have imagined them to look with the added years. We talked about our current situations, reminisced of the past, complained about getting old, and renewed our connections. I took a cell-phone shot of most of us, but I misplaced the confounded adapter for the MicroSD card and I am not reconnecting the monster PC with the native reader tonight. I'll post the shot of me and my inseparable cohorts soon enough.
As is typical when I need to keep my mind off of depressing thoughts, I tinker. The weather threw me a curve these past few days with promises of rain and nastiness which did not really materialize. I knew that as soon as I set up the sawbucks and the big miter saw setup outside to do more trim work on the garage, I'd have a downpour to contend with. So instead I have been doing myriad little projects and such that have been on back burners for years. Some minor rewiring of circuits in the basement woodshop/workshop, as well as changing lighting circuits that slowly became overloaded as I added lights. Since I have four more quad fixtures to install and wore and the original circuit shares the lighting with the kitchen and bathrooms, I am installing a separate branch just for the shop lights. I replaced the emergency lighting fixture tonight as well, replaced the temporary lighting setup in a storage area with a pair of two bulb fluorescents and got rid of all the janky extension cords and such. Rewired some of the shop machinery as well, the machine lights I added to the band saw and big drill press got wired into the machine wiring itself instead of having their own separate cords, cutting down on clutter and the need for so many outlets. When the weather is more conducive to such things, I will make several more hauls to the landfill/recycling center to get rid of lots of cruft clogging the basement.
I have an area next to the Lab Of Mayhem currently used for storage. I want to finish it off and make it into an office. I'm tired of having paperwork strewn on the dining room table and want to finally have a dedicated office setup. That will go a long way in making the upstairs more livable and easier to keep neat. It has the advantage of being separated from the house by ten inches of solid concrete, making it ideal for storage of important paperwork and such in case the unthinkable should happen. When completed I will fit the room with a fire-rated steel door and a decent lock as well.
I need this short week coming up. So much in my head that I've been tending to. A nice helping of reality should do the trick, but not all at once.
Seven years ago I was getting set to take Mom to the airport for one of her many trips to Europe. This time it would be centered mostly around Amsterdam, a place she had never been to before, and after hearing about all the goings-on, her adventuresome streak made her that much more excited.
Then she saw something on the television she had on in the background while finishing up packing.
"I think you should see this. A plane crashed into the World Trade Center".
I walk in just in time to see the second plane hit. Any thoughts I had on this being a very bad accident (I remembered the bomber that had crashed into the Empire State Building from history as I was watching) was pushed down in some of the greatest fear I had ever felt. One might have been an accident. Two was an attack. I sat there transfixed and cold, staring at the images on that television. Mom stared in disbelief. Then the scene switched over to the Pentagon.
Mom kept on packing. She did not know what else to do.
Eventually it came down that all commercial flights were canceled. Mom still wanted me to take her to the airport, which I frustratingly did. We were turned away at the terminal.
I did not want her anywhere but home during this time. No one knew what was going on. In the days to come, I felt the same unease that my friends and coworkers were feeling. I was desperately trying to find out if my friends and their families were okay. And the days were punctuated with an eerie silence. As I work adjacent to an airport, sandwiched between two runways, the silence in the vicinity was unreal. The stepped-up security at work was annoying but I supposed necessary. And living around several other potential 'ground zeros', the quiet of the days and nights were occasionally slashed by the sounds of military aircraft.
Fear was the order of the day. But the cooperation and concern of just about everyone to one another was comfort. And the outpouring of concern and support of the nations of the world was reassuring.
I will never forget that day.
Seven years later, well, I will not get into that right now. Maybe later.
Then she saw something on the television she had on in the background while finishing up packing.
"I think you should see this. A plane crashed into the World Trade Center".
I walk in just in time to see the second plane hit. Any thoughts I had on this being a very bad accident (I remembered the bomber that had crashed into the Empire State Building from history as I was watching) was pushed down in some of the greatest fear I had ever felt. One might have been an accident. Two was an attack. I sat there transfixed and cold, staring at the images on that television. Mom stared in disbelief. Then the scene switched over to the Pentagon.
Mom kept on packing. She did not know what else to do.
Eventually it came down that all commercial flights were canceled. Mom still wanted me to take her to the airport, which I frustratingly did. We were turned away at the terminal.
I did not want her anywhere but home during this time. No one knew what was going on. In the days to come, I felt the same unease that my friends and coworkers were feeling. I was desperately trying to find out if my friends and their families were okay. And the days were punctuated with an eerie silence. As I work adjacent to an airport, sandwiched between two runways, the silence in the vicinity was unreal. The stepped-up security at work was annoying but I supposed necessary. And living around several other potential 'ground zeros', the quiet of the days and nights were occasionally slashed by the sounds of military aircraft.
Fear was the order of the day. But the cooperation and concern of just about everyone to one another was comfort. And the outpouring of concern and support of the nations of the world was reassuring.
I will never forget that day.
Seven years later, well, I will not get into that right now. Maybe later.
Goodbye Moog
Aug. 22nd, 2005 06:41 pmAs some of my readership has known (or at least figured out by now) I have a very strong interest in music. Also, I have just as strong an interest in electronics. Both of these seemingly unrelated interests seemed to become a part of me in my earliest years. So, it is no surprise that any melding of these two is bound to strike a chord (no pun intended) in me. Between the electric guitar and, especially, the synthesizer I have found my 'core' music interests. Progressive rock of course strongly mixes these two instruments. In fact, the synthesizer is widely credited for spawning the prog rock genre.
Today though, I cannot help but feel saddened, since Robert Moog, the inventor of the first widely used, commercially viable synthesizer has died.
A true pioneer, Bob Moog changed the face of music forever with his creations. And recently, the Moog and other 'classic' analog synths are enjoying a comeback, both as the original instruments are being restored, or digital equivalents in hardware or software are being developed. So, Mr. Moog was reminded about his valuable contribution in recent years. I hope he died well, knowing the lives he touched still thank him.
One of many stories of Robert Moog.
Today though, I cannot help but feel saddened, since Robert Moog, the inventor of the first widely used, commercially viable synthesizer has died.
A true pioneer, Bob Moog changed the face of music forever with his creations. And recently, the Moog and other 'classic' analog synths are enjoying a comeback, both as the original instruments are being restored, or digital equivalents in hardware or software are being developed. So, Mr. Moog was reminded about his valuable contribution in recent years. I hope he died well, knowing the lives he touched still thank him.
One of many stories of Robert Moog.
