"The City of St. Louis has affected me more deeply than any other environment has ever done, I consider myself fortunate to have been born here, rather than in Boston, or New York, or London."
---T.S. Eliot
Found on St. Louis promotional material.
The feeling, sadly, is not mutual.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Best Names in the History of Jazz, Part Two: Saint Louis
All St. Louis edition:
Mound City Blue Blowers
Trimp's Ambassador Bellhops
The Original Saint Louis Crackerjacks (performers of "The Duck's Yass Yass Yass" a song allegedly so ribald the professor wouldn't play a sample")
Albino Red Chapman
Falstaff Foster (Blues player, not jazz)
Mound City Blue Blowers
Trimp's Ambassador Bellhops
The Original Saint Louis Crackerjacks (performers of "The Duck's Yass Yass Yass" a song allegedly so ribald the professor wouldn't play a sample")
Albino Red Chapman
Falstaff Foster (Blues player, not jazz)
Final Address to the Institute
[I thought I might open with a few improvisational remarks before moving on to the memorized portion of my speech. It shouldn’t add more than eight or nine minutes. Kidding! Kidding!]
I didn’t buy my first jazz recording until I was eighteen years old, which is rather late considering Louis Armstrong was playing the cornet before his thirteenth birthday and Mary Lou Williams gave her first piano performance at age six. Then again, Red Holloway is just hitting his peak at 80, so maybe there’s still time. I was a freshman in college when I first got a copy of Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue. I kept it, alphabetically ordered, between a copy of The Clash’s London Calling and the Dead Milkmen’s Beelzebubba (“One Saturday I took a walk to Zipperhead/ I met a girl there and she almost knocked me dead”). Miles was, needless to say, like nothing I had ever heard before. In any case, I remember playing it for the first time in my dorm room and hearing a piano then bass then finally a blast of horn. Then it went on. And on. For more than nine minutes. It had a beat, a rhythm I could almost feel, but otherwise it was completely foreign. I kept waiting for words that would never come. In short, it both blew my mind and confused the hell out of me. Well, in the past four weeks, with the benefit of engaging and insightful speakers and carefully chosen reading selections, I’ve replaced much of my confusion with practical knowledge, while still occasionally having my mind blown.
One of the most important outcomes of this seminar is that it not only helped me appreciate jazz in particular or music in general in a much richer way—though it has—but that it has genuinely changed the way I look at the complexities of American society. Yes, it is true that I didn’t know what a “blue note” was before or what an “A-A-B-A” song structure was, nor did I know the colorful history of Stalebread Lacoume and his Razzy Tazzy Spasm band or who played drums in Ellington’s rhythm section (for the record, that would be Sonny Greer). And while knowing these things has no doubt enriched my enjoyment of music—and no doubt improved my dinner conversations—they have not, in and of themselves, made me a better teacher. What has done that, and what I will take a way from St. Louis, is an understanding of how jazz music, this wonderful sound born out of New Orleans, incubated in Chicago, dispersed through Kansas City’s territorial bands, matured in New York City, and given to the rest of the world, offers a unique lens in which we can study the cultural transformations of the 20th century and the American character. Music, literature, visual art, dance, economics, politics, sociology, history, these are not separate disciplines in everyday life and should not be taught as such. This is a fact that seemed self-evident to me before, but there is a difference between an intellectual tenet and deeply felt truth. This is the stuff, like a Charlie Parker solo, that when finally understood, blows minds.
If time permits, I would like to address one specific area that appeals directly to my English classroom. Professor Herman Beavers from the University of Pennsylvania, challenged us in a few particular areas. First, he stressed a point made in Guthrie Ramsay’s Race Matters: Music cannot be separated from the conditions that created it. I often find myself asked to teach literature to my seniors in a method called New Criticism, which advocates close reading of texts independent of any background information; in a sense, we are to isolate the words on the page from external influences such as race, class, and gender. This seminar has seriously called into question much of this thinking. In addition, I could cite some of the techniques he suggested for a discussion of time, setting, characterization, space, and identity, but I think it would be more fitting to end with another of Dr. Beaver’s challenges: “Sustain this moment.” Let us not be tourists here, but, as he urged, occupants. And let us take that challenge with us back to home, [improvisational riff ] back to our students.
So, to steal Columbia University professor Dr. Bob O’Meally’s paraphrase of Mark Twain: I apologize. If I had more time, it would have been shorter.
I didn’t buy my first jazz recording until I was eighteen years old, which is rather late considering Louis Armstrong was playing the cornet before his thirteenth birthday and Mary Lou Williams gave her first piano performance at age six. Then again, Red Holloway is just hitting his peak at 80, so maybe there’s still time. I was a freshman in college when I first got a copy of Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue. I kept it, alphabetically ordered, between a copy of The Clash’s London Calling and the Dead Milkmen’s Beelzebubba (“One Saturday I took a walk to Zipperhead/ I met a girl there and she almost knocked me dead”). Miles was, needless to say, like nothing I had ever heard before. In any case, I remember playing it for the first time in my dorm room and hearing a piano then bass then finally a blast of horn. Then it went on. And on. For more than nine minutes. It had a beat, a rhythm I could almost feel, but otherwise it was completely foreign. I kept waiting for words that would never come. In short, it both blew my mind and confused the hell out of me. Well, in the past four weeks, with the benefit of engaging and insightful speakers and carefully chosen reading selections, I’ve replaced much of my confusion with practical knowledge, while still occasionally having my mind blown.
One of the most important outcomes of this seminar is that it not only helped me appreciate jazz in particular or music in general in a much richer way—though it has—but that it has genuinely changed the way I look at the complexities of American society. Yes, it is true that I didn’t know what a “blue note” was before or what an “A-A-B-A” song structure was, nor did I know the colorful history of Stalebread Lacoume and his Razzy Tazzy Spasm band or who played drums in Ellington’s rhythm section (for the record, that would be Sonny Greer). And while knowing these things has no doubt enriched my enjoyment of music—and no doubt improved my dinner conversations—they have not, in and of themselves, made me a better teacher. What has done that, and what I will take a way from St. Louis, is an understanding of how jazz music, this wonderful sound born out of New Orleans, incubated in Chicago, dispersed through Kansas City’s territorial bands, matured in New York City, and given to the rest of the world, offers a unique lens in which we can study the cultural transformations of the 20th century and the American character. Music, literature, visual art, dance, economics, politics, sociology, history, these are not separate disciplines in everyday life and should not be taught as such. This is a fact that seemed self-evident to me before, but there is a difference between an intellectual tenet and deeply felt truth. This is the stuff, like a Charlie Parker solo, that when finally understood, blows minds.
If time permits, I would like to address one specific area that appeals directly to my English classroom. Professor Herman Beavers from the University of Pennsylvania, challenged us in a few particular areas. First, he stressed a point made in Guthrie Ramsay’s Race Matters: Music cannot be separated from the conditions that created it. I often find myself asked to teach literature to my seniors in a method called New Criticism, which advocates close reading of texts independent of any background information; in a sense, we are to isolate the words on the page from external influences such as race, class, and gender. This seminar has seriously called into question much of this thinking. In addition, I could cite some of the techniques he suggested for a discussion of time, setting, characterization, space, and identity, but I think it would be more fitting to end with another of Dr. Beaver’s challenges: “Sustain this moment.” Let us not be tourists here, but, as he urged, occupants. And let us take that challenge with us back to home, [improvisational riff ] back to our students.
So, to steal Columbia University professor Dr. Bob O’Meally’s paraphrase of Mark Twain: I apologize. If I had more time, it would have been shorter.
Eating St. Louis IX: Barbeque
St. Louis consumes more barbeque sauce than anywhere else in the world--more than in Kansas City or Memphis, Dallas or Houston, and probably more than all those bodunk towns in North Carolina. So what took me so long to finally get some BBQ?
I finally found Mama's Coal Pot BBQ in walking distance from Wash U.
If I were truly more adventurous I would have ordered the "Snoot Dinner." Instead, I go the Pork Steak, a true St. Louis original.
Washed it down with an Orange Whistle. The Vess Company has been making soda in STL since 1919. One of their salesmen went on to create a version of his own favorite. You may know it as 7-Up.
Another good local soft drink is from Fitz's. Their specialty is rootbeer, but I also like the Cream Soda.
I finally found Mama's Coal Pot BBQ in walking distance from Wash U.
If I were truly more adventurous I would have ordered the "Snoot Dinner." Instead, I go the Pork Steak, a true St. Louis original.
Washed it down with an Orange Whistle. The Vess Company has been making soda in STL since 1919. One of their salesmen went on to create a version of his own favorite. You may know it as 7-Up.
Another good local soft drink is from Fitz's. Their specialty is rootbeer, but I also like the Cream Soda.
Annotated Listening: Duke Ellington
Ellington, Duke. “Such Sweet Thunder.” Such Sweet Thunder. Sony Records CD, 1999.
After performing two concerts at the Shakespearean Festival in Stratford, Ontario in July of 1956, Duke Ellington, no doubt impressed by the brilliant performance of a young Canadian actor named William Shatner, was inspired to write a jazz suite inspired by the works of the Bard. Composed with long time collaborator Billy Strayhorn, Ellington sought to create a series of musical portraits for some of Shakespeare’s most famous characters. For students and teachers of both literature and music, Ellington’s daring work offers an exciting tool for the discussing the individual personalities of Shakespearean characterization, Ellington’s sophistication and ambition, jazz’ musical vocabulary, and larger questions about music’s ability to create mood, tone, and perhaps even tell a story.
Ellington’s initial work offered eleven songs, each linked to a Shakespearean character: “Sweet Sweet Thunder” is based on Othello; "Sonnet for Caesar" on Julius Caesar; "Sonnet to Hank Cinq" on Henry V; "Lady Mac" on Lady Macbeth; "Sonnet in Search of a Moor" on Othello; "The Telecasters" is for both the Three Witches from Macbeth and Iago from Othello; "Up and Down, Up and Down, I Will Lead Them (Up and Down)" on Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream; "Sonnet for Sister Kate" on Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew; "The Star-Crossed Lovers" on Romeo and Juliet; "Madness in Great Ones" on Hamlet; and "Half the Fun" on Cleopatra. While some tracks work better than others as reflections of Shakespeare’s characters, each is ambitious and interesting in its own right and may be recommended for classroom use.
One of the interesting things about the title track “Such Sweet Thunder” is that while it purports to describe the character of Othello, it is actually a line lifted from another play—it is taken from Hippolyta’s description of Hercules in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Some critics have argued that the title is actually a clever reminder of how jazz was initially dismissed by white listeners; the full quote is “I never heard/so musical a discord, such sweet thunder.” The song itself is a 12-bar blues based on strong drum beats and low horns, but how does Ellington make this piece fit Othello? This may be one of the issues worth exploring in class discussion as there seems to be no clear consensus. Stephen M. Buhler, University of Nebraska-Lincoln, suggests that the “music is applied to Othello's accounts of his own experiences (see Othello 1.3. 128-45). Ellington and Strayhorn factor in how these adventures and the man who endured them might have sounded to Desdemona.” Jack Chambers, in his essay Birdland: Shakespeare in Ellington’s World,” is not so convinced, saying, “Unlike the other scenes, however, it is only tangentially Shakespearean. It has no connection to its source play. Originally titled "Cleo," it might have been intended as an evocation of Cleopatra’s sexuality, which certainly works, but instead Ellington always introduced it as (at Juan les Pins in 1966) ‘the sweet swinging line of talk that Othello gave to Desdemona which swayed her into his direction.’ That does not work. It is far from pillow talk, by any criterion. Though it works perfectly as overture, it is one of the pieces that only loosely fits the thematic conception.” An ongoing debate concerning music and the story telling tradition, and one I won’t attempt to answer here, is whether or not music is properly equipped with the necessary devices to narrate. While there is little question that music, especially in the skilled hands of a composer like Ellington, can evoke a mood, create a scene, inspire feeling, and even invite listeners to visualize action, students may enjoy debating the question of whether or not the tracks on Such Sweet Thunder reveals anything about character and plot.
Monday, July 23, 2007
240 people trapped inside the St. Louis Arch after power outage
Not sure if this made the news elsewhere...
ST. LOUIS — Over 200 people were trapped inside the 630-foot Gateway Arch for about two hours after an apparent power outage, authorities said.
The power went out around 8:45 p.m. Saturday, stalling two trams filled with about 40 people each, said Mike Maris, deputy superintendent of the Gateway Arch.
About 100 other people were stranded at the top of the monument of stainless steel, Maris said. He said the evacuation of the south tram, where one of nine cables may have broken, took about two hours.
Power eventually was restored to the north tram, and stranded visitors no longer had to use the stairs to evacuate, said Capt. Steve Simpson, a spokesman for the St. Louis Fire department. He said officials do not know what happened to the equipment.
Simpson said rescue crews treated two people. One was given oxygen and the other was diabetic. He did not elaborate on their treatment.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Eating St. Louis VIII: Gooey Butter Cake
I have been looking for this little St. Louis sweet for about three weeks to no avail. Today I came home from the A-B brewery and Mark from New York had a special treat waiting for me. Sweeeeeet and gooey, it didn't disappoint. Man, I could eat this every day.
Would Anyone Care for an "A-B Product"?
As part of my research for Dan Steffens, I scouted out the Anheuser-Busch plant and found out probably more than I ever needed to know about "beechwood aging."
People in St. Louis always use the strange expression "A-B products." Consider the following conversation:
"Are the 'A-B products' popular in Philadelphia?"
"Why yes, I have had a Budweiser before."
I thought this was akin to someone from Atlanta asking if I've ever heard of a little soft drink called Coca-Cola. Especially since I heard today that one out of every two beers consumed in America is, all together now, an "A-B product."
Of course they make more than just Bud and Busch. Michelob, Natty Light (and Ice), Rolling Rock, King Cobra Malt Liquor (not available for tasting), Bicardi Silver, Tequiza (yuck), something called Hurricane and Hurricane High Gravity. I tried a Michelob Pomagranate and something called Tilt, a neon green energy malt beverage that promises incredibly unhealthy amounts of caffeine to balance out its 8.8% alcohol content. I then exceeded my "two tastes" by having a Budweiser Select. The only difference being: no beechwood aging! George Clooney never mentioned that little fact. I also had a Grolsch, a beer that they don't actually brew but do somehow make money from.
This little fox is called Bevo (actually Reynard the Fox) and he is enjoying an ice cold mug of Bevo, a non alcoholic drink that was popular during Prohibition.
People in St. Louis always use the strange expression "A-B products." Consider the following conversation:
"Are the 'A-B products' popular in Philadelphia?"
"Why yes, I have had a Budweiser before."
I thought this was akin to someone from Atlanta asking if I've ever heard of a little soft drink called Coca-Cola. Especially since I heard today that one out of every two beers consumed in America is, all together now, an "A-B product."
Of course they make more than just Bud and Busch. Michelob, Natty Light (and Ice), Rolling Rock, King Cobra Malt Liquor (not available for tasting), Bicardi Silver, Tequiza (yuck), something called Hurricane and Hurricane High Gravity. I tried a Michelob Pomagranate and something called Tilt, a neon green energy malt beverage that promises incredibly unhealthy amounts of caffeine to balance out its 8.8% alcohol content. I then exceeded my "two tastes" by having a Budweiser Select. The only difference being: no beechwood aging! George Clooney never mentioned that little fact. I also had a Grolsch, a beer that they don't actually brew but do somehow make money from.
This little fox is called Bevo (actually Reynard the Fox) and he is enjoying an ice cold mug of Bevo, a non alcoholic drink that was popular during Prohibition.
Missouri Botantical Gardens
[Editor's Note: This post is, of course, dedicated to my mom, the finest photographer of flowers I know.]
Sorry if anyone found the pictures of the zoo boring. I know we have animals in Philadelphia. Anyway, here is something a lot more exciting! Flowers!
Missouri Botantical Gardens:
The Climatron!
A kind of pineapple!
Sorry if anyone found the pictures of the zoo boring. I know we have animals in Philadelphia. Anyway, here is something a lot more exciting! Flowers!
Missouri Botantical Gardens:
The Climatron!
A kind of pineapple!
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