Today marks the final day of Women's History Month. Folks from across my business unit offered messages for our entire organization that told stories about women who inspired them. Mine went up this morning. And because we need new content and I'm lazy (and we celebrate badass women here), I'll share it with you.
I’ve been a music fan my entire life. When I was younger, my Dad loved both kinds of music: Country and Western. As a result, I grew up on Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Anne Murray, June Carter Cash, and so many other amazing female artists. Later, my taste evolved and I got into less mainstream but equally remarkable performers like Neko Case, Jenny Lewis, Kay Hanley, Cat Power, and Liz Phair. Women make incredible music across all genres around the world today. But there’s only one woman that could make former President Barack Obama say this:
“Nobody embodies more fully the connection between the African-American spiritual, the blues, R. & B., rock and roll — the way that hardship and sorrow were transformed into something full of beauty and vitality and hope. American history wells up when Aretha sings. That's why, when she sits down at a piano and sings 'A Natural Woman,' she can move me to tears — the same way that Ray Charles's version of 'America the Beautiful' will always be in my view the most patriotic piece of music ever performed — because it captures the fullness of the American experience, the view from the bottom as well as the top, the good and the bad, and the possibility of synthesis, reconciliation, transcendence.”
Aretha Franklin was born 78 years ago this week in Memphis. She passed away in August 2018 in her home town of Detroit. In between, as her voice become synonymous with soul music, she earned 44 Grammy nominations (winning 18 times), became the first woman inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and received the Presidential Medal of Freedom. The latter honor was bestowed upon her by President George W. Bush in recognition of both her musical achievements and her considerable influence on the civil rights movement. “When it comes to expressing yourself through song, there is no one who can touch her,” Mary J. Blige told Rolling Stone in 2008. “She is the reason why women want to sing.”
I could write a lot more about the Queen of Soul, but as Frank Zappa said, writing about music is like dancing about architecture. So here are a few of the ways Aretha Franklin moved and inspired so many people.
Thanks to all the women on our team and in our business that inspire us every day.
Our man from the Neck had an inspired idea, and we've got nothing if we don't have time. So here's a playlist inspired by my hometown and guided by two (very loose) rules:
I must have seen the band/artist at a small club in the greater Washington, D.C. area (For the purposes of this exercise, I deem the new 930 Club too big, but the old 930 Club and the old Bayou just right), and/or,
The artist must have grown up within a 37.1-mile drive of Leesburg, Virginia. Which allows me to include North Springfield's own Dave Grohl.
So here we go:
Car Seat Headrest frontman Will Toledo grew up in Leesburg and went to Loudoun County High School, the same school that my daughter's boyfriend attends.
I've seen Carbon Leaf (featuring FOGTB - or at least FOW - Barry Privett on lead vocals and tin whistle) twice at Leesburg's venerable Tally Ho Theater.
My daughter and I saw Jake Shimabukuro and his band at the Tally Ho. Justin Trawick opened for him.
Seen George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic at the same little venue. Twice.
Pimps of Joytime
Pimps of Joytime played the Tally Ho on a cold, snowy Tuesday night in February. The 50 of us that braved the elements saw a killer show.
I've seen Rhett Miller play too many times to count, but only twice at a venue as small as Vienna's Jammin' Java.
Winchester, Virginia is 35.1 miles from Leesburg. It's the former home of Danimal. And Patsy Cline.
Back to the Tally Ho, where I saw Fishbone last year.
Saw The Seldom Scene, local bluegrass legends, at The Birchmere a decade or so ago.
The aforementioned Dave Grohl, object of much G:TB affection, was the drummer for Nirvana and is the frontman for Foo Fighters.
The first club show I ever saw was They Might Be Giants at the old 930 Club in 1988. I was with my then-21 year-old girlfriend. Been a stud from way back.
Our friend Giti Khalsa is the drummer for Seven Mary Three. A bunch of us, including a different then-girlfriend (who's now my wife) saw them play at the old 930, as well.
Different bunch of us, including the KQs, their way-cool daughter and niece, and the Marls' caught Sister Hazel at the Tally Ho.
More to come as people like Whitney who remember my life better than I do remind of shows I might've forgotten about.
Or more to come when my own memory jogs itself:
Caught the first few songs of a Dave Matthews Band show at the late, great Bayou before my sister puked all over herself and I had to take her home.
JMU band Everything played a fun show at The Bayou, as well. I saw them a few times at The Atlantis in Nags Head, as well. Partied with them back at our shithole of a house, too.
Speaking of The Atlantis, that glorious dump, I saw Fighting Gravity, nee Boy O Boy, there. Also saw one of The Waxing Poetics' final shows in the same place.
And several of the assembled Gheorghies saw The Connells at Trinkle Hall on the campus of The College of William and Mary. That was a mess.
Ooh, just recalled that I saw Trombone Shorty at the State Theater in Falls Church, right before he blew up.
Oh shit, forgot that Thao Nguyen grew up in Falls Church before matriculating at William & Mary. Added one of her tunes.
A couple of weeks into social distancing / quarantining / lockdown, there are going to be some shaggy G:TBers. In lieu of actually seeing each other, here's the latest, both on scruff and day-to-day doings.
Whitney
The Pic: In the office, overlooking the Elizabeth River. In the background, my birthplace across the river, along with some Naval vessels and the Port; a downtown going mostly unused at the moment, especially that Sheraton behind me.
The Beard: Like TR said, it's getting whiter every day. I could go for a while longer without shaving, but I'll likely be dispense with it after we're back to work full-time. After shearing it into a mustache for a weekend, of course.
The Story: Working from home a bit, but also slipping into the office now and again. Between 0 and 4 colleagues join me there, it's 5 mins from my house, and the rest of this 25-story building is pretty much shut down, so I'm not in close proximity to humans for the most part.
Let's hear more from the Bearded Men (and ladies) of Space Station 11 . . . Danimal
The Pic: My new office at home, our lanai. On Day 1 at home, last Wednesday, I situated myself in in the carve-out within our bedroom that serves as our little office space. That was depressing, plus I need to stand throughout much of day. So I moved. I love it and will continue to until the oppressive heat arrives.
The Beard: More gray than dark. My kids like it. It's the only hair on my head that they have seen, or at least remember. I'll keep it as long as I can. It's not robust, a few spots needing fertilizer on either side of my lips.
The Story: Haven't been to the office since last Tuesday. Val has the kids doing school work from home though the online routine does not officially begin until next week. No chance our kids go back, but they haven't called it yet. We're all doing fairly well all things considered. The new normal.
The Dog: Roscoe. He hangs with me much of the day.
rob
The Pic: This is my office, so the view isn't as panoramic as Whitney's, nor as al fresco as Danimal's. It was the catalyst for a funny Corona Files story from last week. I hosted a call from this office with my team. After it was over, I received a call from one of my direct reports, who was close to tears from laughter. Apparently he got multiple texts during the call wondering if it was weird that Rob had porn on the walls of his office. So next week we're going to have an art appreciation session
The Beard: Way more salt than pepper these days, to be sure. Kids like it, wife hates it, but I figure I'll keep it for at least a little while longer. I've trimmed it a little, and taken care of the neck region, so might as well let it reach its full potential.
The Story: I'll be working from home until at least April 24, per my company's policy. Don't tell my boss this, but I've been considerably more productive during this fucked up period than I normally am. I've connected with a number of teammates and colleagues, and I've procrastinated significantly less than I normally do. This particular moment notwithstanding.
The bigger story for me at present, and the thing that I'll probably remember most about this period, is the literal pain in my neck. The MRI showed two herniated discs - C4-C6, if you're scoring at home - and the epidural did fuck all to alleviate my discomfort. Which is a bit more than moderate. The local hemp/CBD store is closed, so alcohol and muscle relaxers it is.
Teej
The Pic: At the living room table. It is one of three locations I use as an "office" now. Basement on wet bar, which serves as a standing desk option, and then upstairs in the office/kitten room. Which is nicer than that description indicates. There are three of us here working from home, so we all take a level to start the day, sometimes switching up for the sake of different scenery.
The Beard: The Posehn in the Membrane look is coming back. I've threatened to do a 'stache, but I have a terrible 'stache so I'll just keep this shit beard. I'm so bored I shave the head every day now, so it's got a nice sheen.
The Story: Have been working from home for two weeks and a day now. Doubt we'll go back to work before May. Have not ventured to a store/retail establishment since a Target run seven days ago. Get fresh air by walking the dog during the day, then also wandering aimlessly at night through the neighborhood. Am very perplexed by people who refuse to slightly deviate from their walk to keep six feet between us, especially joggers. What the fuck, assholes? I don't need you cruising by a foot from me when there's an entire fucking road to run on.
TR
The Pic: this is a close-up of TR's face when he was at his grill, cooking up lamb chops for the missus' birthday on Wednesday. The wife was snapping the photo. I would have just appended the whole photo, but I was unhappy with the way the lamb chops were lined up on the grill. I had to audible due to a small grease fire.
The Beard: chin hair is now 69% white. The rest is steadily coming along. I am half Iranian, so I have a swarthy base for facial/body hair. I expect I won't get a haircut again for 1-2 months. I haven't gone more than three weeks in the last few years, so I'm curious to see if my sides will look as grey as they do now when it gets longer.
The Story: things are slow in TR's world. He has been unemployed since mid-February, so he's a full-time teacher to two mostly ungrateful boys. He is drinking a fair bit every night, and is struggling to find an exercise routine. Job search appears to be on hold for a while. TR is a bit pissed at the Saudis and Russia for blowing up the US oil market. Only plus is that 4-5 families do a social distance cocktail hour outside our house. We stand 10'-15' apart from each other and chat in a big awkward oval. Waiting for somebody to call the cops on us.
Alright. Who is next?
Dave
The Pic: I got down on the floor with my trusty companion Lola. Thank God for all the entertainment she's provided during this quarantine.
The beard: my usual goatee. It's quite white. I am otherwise clean-shaven-- face and head-- because I like to clean up for the Friday Zoom happy hour with my fellow English teachers. It starts at 2:30 sharp and goes until no one can drink anymore.
Why clean up?
What else is there to do?
The story: teaching English remotely is not so bad, aside from the eyestrain. My Creative Writing kids have been happy to vent. They also loved two podcasts on creative thinking that I posted. If you like music, you will love these episodes.
I am a bit worried about "collecting" 53 six-page Rutgers Expos essay next week. I don't want to grade that many things on a screen, but what can you do? Then we have to figure out how to meet with the Rutgers guy for folder review and all that. Should be a trainwreck.
Still, teaching English and writing classes is a hell of a lot easier than trying to teach science or math remotely. Those teachers are losing their minds. They are used to progressing in an organized manner, grading kids rigorously, and building one concept upon another. Sucks to be them.
Rootsy
The pic: F
rom lunchtime yesterday on my front porch.
The beard: It's been on my face since the fall, and it leaves it this weekend, after a few rounds of creepy facial hair experimentation.
The story: I’m still working, but business has slowed to close to nothing, so we will be cutting hours next week and having some more folks stay home. I’m furiously reading legislative summaries to help inform how I might best deal with this situation. As of today I’ve talked to all my employees and laid out my three main objectives, and nobody’s freaked out on me yet. I’m rationing the booze to every second or third night, and teaching my kids how to properly load and unload the fucking dishwasher.
Marls
The pic: On the couch this morning with the pup, Barclay. Spent the morning online with my B-School cohort trying to figure out how to make the last 2 months of an in person, live program not suck too badly while migrating to 20 hours of classes each weekend to on an online format. Who would think that getting 40+ people to agree would be so hard?
I'm also including a bonus photo of me DJ'ing our work happy hour yesterday going K-Billy Supersounds of the 70's style. My daughter does not quite know what to make of the whole thing. The green screen allows for some interesting backgrounds. Highly recommended if you are doing a lot of teleconference calls. Amazon has a wide selection.
Related note, I have two very matter of fact surgeons in my B-school cohort that are on the front-lines of this thing and the picture they paint is not good. Their recommendation to all of us is captured best by this little ditty...
I've been calling my far-flung team this week, checking in on folks to let them know we've got their backs and such. Man of the people, and all that. One of my colleagues has kids the same age as mine, and we talked about what they're going through. He said he told his 18 year-old son that life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you respond. With that in mind, I asked my own 18 year-old if she felt like making her G:TB debut. To which:
The author, my kidlet, of
whom I'm mad proud.
Senior year. I bet you remember yours fondly. Back at the tail end of summer, the prospect of My Senior Year stretched out ahead of me like a beacon of hope. My very own yellow-brick road out of the hellscape of high school.
Ideally, the first half of the year is spent grinding as hard as possible in order to squeeze into the college of your choice, and the second half is spent relaxing, slacking because we earned it. The first half of my senior year went pretty much as expected: I worked fairly hard, I got good grades, I kept my GPA up, I applied to college. Not to mention the time I spent at the dance studio, which served essentially as a second education as far as I’m concerned.
Between all of that stressing was my incessant worry about the state of the world, and how, it appeared, to be falling apart before my very eyes. None of the old guys in government seem to care too much about climate change, and why would they, since they’re leaving it in twenty-odd years? And that worried me, as I’m the one who they’re leaving the world to, and I would like it to be not on fire, and not polluted as all hell. This was my first vote in a presidential primary, so that too weighed on me heavily (I’m a Sanders stan. I’ll leave it at that.). Among all of that, I then had to worry about actually getting into college. I did, and I’ll be attending VCU in the fall, but that victory was pushed to the wayside when COVID entered the picture.
At the start, I was very aware of how Coronavirus was being portrayed; it gave people a pass on being xenophobes, which pissed me off greatly. But when people gossiped and giggled about the possibility of school cancellation, I waved it away, certain that the year would continue, perhaps limited slightly by a few days off. And then Governor Northam had The Press Conference announcing the closing of all Virginia schools.
Let's not forget that Wooderson was robbed, too.
I spent the rest of the day sad, somber, teary eyed. The class of 2020, MY class, had been robbed of our year. Our graduation, our prom. The school-sanctioned bullshit that we all proclaimed dumb, but looked forward to anyways. Gone. On top of that, I like school. There, I said it. I love learning and bettering myself, furthering my knowledge. Doing it from home is different. It feels wrong. But what choice do we have?
I’m not going to lie and pretend that I’m not pissed off, because I very much am. My senior class went through some shit, and the thing that brings us down is a virus? Talk about a bad dystopian novel. There are some times where I do feel that my year was ruined, and in those times I recognize that there will be things that I’ll never be able to relive. We didn’t even get to appreciate our last day of school, or tell our teachers goodbye. Other times, though, I notice that this has never happened before and that all of us are scared and uncertain together. That thought brings me comfort; everyone is working out the kinks of this “new normal”.
We’ve all, as a whole, been squashed inside our homes and forced to carry on. Nobody has dealt with this before, and although that is chaotic and overwhelming, it is also surprisingly helpful to know. My advice to you, as a senior whose year was pretty much ruined, is to take time to embrace stillness. Find moments where you can slow down and breathe. Who knows if you’ll ever have this much free time; you might as well take advantage of it. Personally, I’m finding stillness through yoga, which is such a wonderful practice (I highly recommend Yoga With Adrien on Youtube). Overall, I’m trying my best to take the bad with the good. This, too, shall pass, and when it does, the whole world will breathe a collective sigh of relief. Until then, appreciate your family, check in on your friends, and give yourself some extra love.
Danimal is the only Gheorghie I haven’t met so determining the proper car for him wasn’t as easy as it was for some of you. But I know enough about him reputationally and through our virtual interactions to draw a reasonably sharp bead on what he should drive.
Danimal is a southern man. This means he likes froadin. He also lives in Florida, which means he needs to tow stuff like boats and ATVs and sometimes his buddy’s mobile estate, and he needs something with a convertible top to enjoy the weather. He also has a beautiful wife and three tow-headed kids so he needs seating for five. He golfs with presidents and kings, he travels the world, he hangs out with Snoop and Mike Brey. Simply put, Danimal is a fucking baller so price is not an issue.
Danimal should drive a mint green 1970 Ford Bronco ICON 4X4 roadster restomod with matching mint green wheels and steering wheel, a tan bikini top, tan and orange interior, a spare wheel on the back, a 5.0 liter Ford Coyote fuel injected V8, and an Aisin-Warner AX15 5-speed manual transmission.
Danimal also needs locking differentials with sport chassis and brakes. That's just how he gets down.
This particular ICON BR (that's what they call it) doesn't actually exist. I made it with their insanely variable configuration tool. If you're like me and have a lot of time on your hands you might find it fun. Check out their Land Cruiser configurator too.
ICON 4X4 offers four different Bronco restomods and the roadster is clearly the right one. It's also the cheapest, starting at only $190,000. Normally I wouldn't recommend anything this pricey as a WCSAGD but like I said Danimal balls hard and cost is no object for him.
The ICON BR is cool but practical, functional but stylish, classic but modern, and sure to generate tons of stories. Just like our man in JAX. So that's what Danimal should drive.
Our man at the beach has been holding out on us, something we realized when we saw his Selleckian visage behind Cherokee Parks during a rebroadcast of the 1992 East Regional Final. So we gave him an assignment. As always, he delivered.
March has long been a favorite month, and not just for the blanket of pollen that coats outdoor surfaces and plays havoc with people’s sinuses. The NCAA Tournament annually provides three weeks of compelling theater – upsets, great games, last-second shots, interesting characters, excuses to couch surf for entire days.
Fairbank P.I.
In my previous life as a sportswriter in Newport News, Va., I covered dozens of tournament games. I was reminded how fortunate I was over the weekend when, absent live games due to our current and coming misery, CBS wisely scratched the collective tournament itch and aired past NCAA games. On Saturday, the network showed the 1982 and ’83 championship games (no matter how many times I watch, it still boggles my mind that N.C. State beat Houston) and the 1992 East Region final between Duke and Kentucky.
Former comrade David Teel and I covered Duke-Kentucky. He sent a text message during the re-broadcast with a screenshot of a younger me on press row, behind the Duke bench, proving that I really was there. Given the talent, stakes and level of play, it’s the best game I personally witnessed in 33 years in the biz, and it’s in the discussion for best game ever. Unfortunately, I have few vivid memories of that day. I chalk it up to a small mental hard drive, time and distance, and a thousand other games and moments clogging my head. I needed a more efficient, weighted mental filing system, one that allowed me to retain Duke-Kentucky and to delete much of the Chuck Swenson era at William and Mary.
It was also a reminder of a time when newspapers had actual staffs and travel budgets. Long before I arrived and through the 1980s, ‘90s and even early 2000s, the Daily Press routinely sent reporters to multiple NCAA Tournament sites. In 1988, my former boss sent me to Lincoln, Neb., where N.C. State was the No. 3 seed. Yes, Raleigh is three hours from Newport News and no, we didn’t cover State regularly. But we considered ourselves an ACC paper, and conference and Wolfpack types were happy to grant us credentials. Different times. Anyway, N.C. State was upset in the first round, so I was stuck in Nebraska with no upcoming game of interest. I asked the boss what to do. He said, can you get to Hartford, Conn.? Number 13 seed Richmond had just upset defending champ Indiana and would face Georgia Tech. Pre-cellphone and Internet, I found a flight, arranged credentials with Richmond and CAA folks, found a hotel room in Hartford, flew out early the next morning and arrived that afternoon, scooted to the arena and cobbled together a couple of stories. The next day I watched Dick Tarrant’s Spiders upset a Georgia Tech team with future pros Dennis Scott, Brian Oliver, Tom Hammonds and Duane Ferrell to reach the Sweet 16.
Speaking of Richmond, my NCAA good fortune extends into history. I covered Richmond’s win against Syracuse in College Park, Md., in 1991, the first time a 15 seed beat a 2. Guard Curtis Blair scored 18 for the Spiders, and 6-5 grinder Terry Connolly had 14 points and seven rebounds against an Orange front line with Billy Owens, LeRon Ellis and Dave Johnson. I covered three of the first four 15 vs. 2 upsets. In 1997, I was in the building in Pittsburgh when Coppin State of the MEAC bounced No. 2 South Carolina. I was there to cover Old Dominion, which narrowly lost to New Mexico in the first round, and the Coppin game was a happy coincidence. Two years prior, I was in Albany, N.Y., and watched the No. 14 Monarchs outlast No. 3 Villanova 89-81 in three overtimes behind Petey Sessoms’ 35 points.
But the damnedest, sweetest, most compelling tournament appearance I saw was in 2001. Hampton University’s experience in Boise, Idaho was equal parts sporting event and cultural phenomenon. A contingent of 70-some people from a Historically Black College and University connected with and was embraced by a mostly lily-white population that didn’t know they existed one week earlier, in ways that are difficult to describe.
The Pirates, in just their sixth season as a Division I program, breezed through the MEAC and were the No. 15 seed in the West Region. Now, the eight-team sub-region was peculiar to begin with, as the NCAA sent Maryland (No. 3), Georgetown (No. 10), George Mason (No. 14), Georgia State (No. 11, coached by Lefty Driesell) and Hampton to Idaho, along with Iowa State, Wisconsin and Arkansas. Seedings even gave us a Maryland-George Mason first-round game 2,000 miles from their respective nearby campuses. Out-of-the-way as it was, Boise was a cool town that welcomed the tournament and everyone involved.
Iowa State-Hampton was the last game of the day. The crowd in Boise was already amped from the first three games – featuring upsets Georgetown over Arkansas and Georgia State over Wisconsin – that were decided by a total of six points. Hampton U.’s pep band, The Force, and its cheerleaders were an immediate jolt, with their funk, bounce and energy. As the Pirates went toe-to-toe with the Big 12 champs, the players, crowd and band all seemed to feed off each other. The last 30 minutes were an HU home game, only louder and at a bigger venue. When Jamaal Tinsley’s driving shot at the buzzer rolled off the rim and Hampton had hung on 58-57, the roar was deafening. Coach Steve Merfeld raced across the court in ecstasy and was picked up from behind and lifted in the air by David Johnson, arms and legs joyfully extended, in a scene that the NCAA still runs in tournament promos.
Over the next 36 hours, the Pirates were local celebrities. People approached them on the street to chat them up and tell them how much they enjoyed watching and hearing them. The local minor-league hockey team, the Idaho Steelheads, asked the pep band if it would perform at the next night’s home game. They didn’t have to ask twice. The Force rocked the arena, introducing funk to hockey fans and hockey to band members.
Steelheads coach John Olver told the Boise paper, “They really added to the atmosphere. I’m really glad they don’t play here every night, or the hockey game would become the second attraction.”
Hampton’s ride ended the next day against Georgetown, but again the crowd was all in with the Pirates and their band. No one who was there will forget.
Things are looking grim in my hometown right now. I won't bother linking to all the bad news. Teaneck's been through rough times before and the town will make it through. In the meantime here's a Teaneck playlist, annotated, to keep everyone occupied for a little while as we all hunker down.
Track 1. A schmaltzy way to kick things off, I know, but we're talking Jersey so we need Bruce.
Track 2. The Isley Brothers are from Teaneck. Their record label was T-Neck Records.
Track 3. Dray is THS class of 1988.
Track 4. Donald Byrd lived in Teaneck. "No need to worry 'bout tomorrow, and yesterday is gone." Sounds right to me.
Track 5. Phoebe Snow is THS class of 1968. Her stage name is from a train that used to run through town.
Track 6. The mayor is Mohammed Hameeduddin, THS class of 1991. From what I've read he's providing remarkably good leadership right now.
Track 7. The Wrens are allegedly from Teaneck. This song's title captures the situation.
Track 8. There's no way I'm only including one Isleys song. This one seems appropriate for a quarantine.
Track 9. Chubb Rock name-checks Teaneck (and Das EFX samples it on "Brooklyn to T-Neck").
Track 10. Ricky Nelson was from Teaneck. The title seems appropriate.
Track 11. Name-checks Phillip Pannell.
Track 12. Johnny Copeland lived in Teaneck and the title seems relevant.
Track 13. DMX was arrested for dogfighting and weapons possession in Teaneck.
Track 14. Rufus Reid lives in Teaneck. I went to school with his son.
Track 15. According to the liner notes to "Return of the Boom Bap," KRS-ONE had offices in West Englewood, which is a neighborhood in Teaneck. When I went to the address the office appeared vacant but whatevs, KRS is the don so he's included.
Track 16. Pat Boone lived in Teaneck.
Track 17. Biggie and Lil Kim lived and were arrested in Teaneck.
Track 18. Jodeci lived in Teaneck. All of them, in one house. I suspect the party scene was insane circa 1992 but I wasn't invited.
Track 19. MNDR is produced by Peter Wade. Before he created WonderSound Records, worked with J-Lo and Marc Anthony and Kylie Minogue and Lindsey Lohan and Spragga Benz and Sean Paul and Charlie XCX and Mark Ronson, released an album as Shitake Monkey, and won some Grammys, he hung out with me and did a lot of stupid stuff of questionable legality in and around Teaneck. THS class of 1992 represent. He has a bunch of very strong podcasts on iTunes, mostly dancehall and old school reggae shows from his days as station manager at KWUR. I just don't know how to link to it. Search podcasts for "peter wade".
Track 20. More from Pete.
Track 21. Sarah Bob is an amazing pianist and Artistic Coordinator of the New Gallery Concert Series. And she's simply the best despite being down with me and Pete, more class of 1992. Support NGCS, we need more art nowadays and it's a 501(c)(3) so you can write it off. Tell Sarah zman sent ya!
Track 22. I am aware of no connection between Slade and Teaneck but this seems like the right song to close things out, a message from me to COVID-19.
Friday is garbage day so on Friday morning I went outside to take the empty cans back to the garage. I saw a neighbor on her lawn across the street brushing her dogs so I waved and yelled "Hi!" She waved back and said "How're you guys doing?" I am blessed with a rapier-sharp and lighting-quick wit so I instantly came up with the best response. I said "I feel like I'm living out Huis Clos." She looked at me and smiled while tilting her head, her demeanor indicating that she was trying to be polite but had no idea what I was talking about.
I realize what was happening (this happens frequently, my neighbors don't read anything more complicated than coloring books) so I said "Did you ever read the book No Exit?" This particular neighbor is a teacher so I thought I had a shot here, but she said "No."
"It's about three people locked in a room and they can't get out. Eventually they realize they are in hell and one of them says 'Hell is other people.' That's what this is like!" (This is witty because being trapped inside with my kids is hell, but we have to do this because if we don't we'll catch a deadly disease from one of the people outside our house, so those people are hellish too. It's a really smart quip.)
She failed to see the wit. I think she thought I was just complaining about my kids and that I really felt like I was trapped in hell. My neighbors are very literal, but not literate. Obviously.
I am positive that if I said that to any number of gheorghies I would get a chuckle and a wittier reply. Dave would likely throw back some veiled Camus reference involving death, maybe dead mothers in nursing homes. Whit would've made a comment in French (I assume he read it in high school French class too). TR would've called me a pussy, dragged me into my own house and jammed me in the powder room shitter--but he would've gotten the reference.
Perhaps the niftiest part of this story is that Sartre said "hell is other people" because everyone has angst about they way other people perceive them. He wasn't writing in favor of isolation, but just explaining what social interactions do to our heads. Which is exactly what happened when I tried to make a joke with my neighbor and ended up feeling like a tool.
All this is to say I appreciate all you clowns. And this is why I've been practicing social distancing in my neighborhood for years.
Folks, I bring two things to these digital pages now and again: filler, and the Muppets. Well, sadly, today I bring you both to pay homage to Kenny Rogers, who died today at the age of 81. I actually got to see Kenny perform 2 or 3 years ago at a Smithsonian event - he could barely move around stage, but got damn did he crush some classics. Anyhoo, enjoy:
It seems increasingly likely that my 18 year-old daughter will never set foot in a high school classroom again, that she'll miss out on all of the ceremony and silliness that comes with being a second-semester high school senior. As she comes to terms with this reality, she's had some maudlin moments, but she's 73% goofball, and so she's been a breath of fresh air most of the time.
Yesterday, she and her sister were huddled around our dining room table, giggling about something. Several minutes later, she displayed this on our kitchen organizer:
The small image is hard to read for us older folk, so let me copy it here in blogtext. It's a quarantine drinking game, courtesy of my daughters.
drink every time you're bored
drink every time you text/tell someone you're bored
drink every time you see a corona meme
drink each time you see a different government official
drink every time you see Trump
drink every time JoJo scratches at the door
drink every time Katy asks to see Jack
drink every time Dad is angry but says he's not
drink every time someone mentions needing time organization
drink every time Dad turns a video on at full volume
drink every time Katy leaves the house
drink for every hour Reilly's in her room
drink every time Mom makes a disdaining remark about Trump
drink at any time politics is brought up
drink every time Katy is with Jack
drink any time Katy is seen with a book
drink every time Katy says something about how Reilly's room smells
drink every time Mom babytalks the dog
drink every time the only thing to do is go outside
drink every time Mom says she's doing work, but is on her phone
drink every time Katy mentions her tattoo
drink every time Katy complains about senior year being ruined
drink every time dad is seen with a beer
drink every time someone walks JoJo
drink every time Mom asks about our plan for the day
drink every time Katy lights a candle
drink every time the news is on
drink every time someone cries
drink every time you open snap and close it
drink any time someone thinks we won't go back to school
drink every time it's unseasonably cold out
If nothing else, we're going to be very hydrated. The kids are alright.
Every good disaster needs a soundtrack, right? So let's get that ball rolling. I am beginning what I hope will be a collaborative series - the creation of a Post-Apocalypse soundtrack. We will donate all proceeds to our official charity - The Human Fund.
Track 1: "(Nothing But) Flowers" by Talking Heads - TR
I know I am preaching to the choir here when I praise David Byrne. He's a social commentator with the unusual gift of providing real-time, cogent critiques of popular culture in which he's immersed. The amazing Naive Melody (and its use in Wall Street) is one example (h/t to Ollie Stone for creating one of my favorite 80's montages ever). Link here.
(Nothing But) Flowers was released in the band's last album, 1988's Naked. I dig it. There is very much a Gen X vibe to the song, but its wistful, ironic lyrics still resonate today. Perhaps it influenced Douglas Coupland, who published Generation X three years later.
Track 2: "99 Luftballoons" by Nena [Live 1983] - Rob
Track 3: "Down With Disease" by Phish [Live 12/11/97] - Whitney
In point of fact, I'm not the hugest Phish fan. I like 'em; I've seen them once live (Portsmouth 2011) and watched them via live streaming a dozen times or more because a number of my friends enjoy them and will put it on the big TV with folks over. They entertain, they have some virtuosity, and they don't take themselves seriously.
The cassette for the album Hoist was hurled into the air by some radio deejay at a pre-Preakness outdoor music show in the streets of Baltimore on night in 1994. I caught it. I listened to it. I liked it a lot. I've learned virtually no other Phish stuff through the years (save "Bouncing Around the Room," "Wilson," "Tweezer," and one or two others), but I know this album pretty damn well. It's a rock album more than a jam album. Anyway, this song seems to be unfortunately fitting, so here's what is deemed by the Phish peeps as one of the best-ever renditions, Rochester '97.
I'm growing increasingly convinced that the effects of the current novel coronavirus pandemic will last months rather than weeks. And the experts' guidance that we avoid crowds and self-sequester will have impacts both predictable and not on our local and national economies - and more importantly, on our psyches. So in the spirit of community that lives large in this little space, we're kicking off a series of reflections on the virus's impact on our lives. Today, Dave Fairbank weighs in from the beach.
Dispatch from the Sandbar:
The Outer Banks and Dare County officials tell us that as of Monday afternoon, there are no confirmed cases of the coronavirus, though a necessary addendum should be, “that we know of.”
Gov. Roy Cooper instructed schools across the state to close for at least the next two weeks, and the county declared a state of emergency that follows guidelines set up by the Centers for Disease Control and the N.C. state Department of Health and Human Services. Gatherings of more than 50 people are restricted, though that measure doesn’t include hospitals, shopping centers, restaurants, offices or grocery stores. There are no travel restrictions.
Folks have begun to self-quarantine and to restrict public movement to necessary trips for food, booze and presumably, toilet paper. Many local events, such as small concerts, food tastings, church gatherings, were canceled or postponed.
On the bright side, the county school Nutrition Department will serve breakfast and lunch at no charge to any child up to age 18, Monday thru Friday, at various locations around the county for as long as schools remain closed. Dominion Energy, the county’s primary electrical power provider, suspended disconnections for non-payment during the crisis. A Mexican joint that the missus and I frequent expanded their $1 Taco Tuesdays to Monday thru Thursday, and now offer a 10-percent discount to locals. Muy Bueno, if and when we decide to eat out again.
A debate sprang up here over the past few days. Of course, it pits public health vs. commerce – no small concern in an area heavily dependent on tourism. Some local businesses and realtors see school and office closures as an opportunity and invite people to visit, and to spend money. The mayor of Nags Head took to Facebook the other day, and while applauding many measures being taken to mitigate the threat, said that inviting visitors “is absolutely contrary to the spirit of the guidelines and common sense. I urge them to reconsider.”
The coming weeks, and perhaps months, here are going to be interesting. Will Spring Breakers and vacationers adhere to previous plans and bring and leave the coronavirus here? Will those who visit, whether they have symptoms or not, rationalize that if they remain in their houses and hotels and only venture to the beach and to open spaces that it will keep people safe? In addition, an increasing number of foreign students, many from Russia and eastern Europe, comprise a significant percentage of the seasonal work force, in hotels, restaurants, grocery stores, and shops. Travel bans and fears about the spread of the virus will almost certainly disrupt the labor force and could hamstring local businesses.
The Outer Banks has a remarkably communal and charitable vibe, understandable given that it’s a sparsely populated coastal space where everyone is handy (present company excepted) and one Big Blow away from being a happy memory. I’d like to think that will ultimately help us endure.
Last Friday, I offered the following Gheorghe: The Blog comment:
So instead of being on a plane to Paris and Munich for a week, we are doing a dinner at a French restaurant in Williamsburg. Yeah, that’s the same. Didn’t feel like battling traffic to come up here on a Friday night but felt obligated if I want to stay on course for at least getting the 1.5 credits for this kick in the groin.
I just got a speeding ticket driving into town by College Landing. Where we used to go and drink a bottle of Bounty Fijian rum circa 1990.
I guess I’m glad to get pulled now rather than then, but Williamsburg can suck it. I’m a bit pissy at the moment, needless to say.
Shortly after that, I realized that the dinner I was attending at the Blue Talon Bistro was at 7:30 rather than 7, so I ambled around the corner to The Trellis for a drink.
Ah, The Trellis . . . the first restaurant I visited on Duke of Gloucester Street in 1988, and it became the go-to free/good meal place when my parents came to town. Occasionally I would pony up some cash and take a date. Very, very occasionally. In a college dining tenure littered with Caf/Marketplace, College Delly, La Tolteca, and Sal's meals, plus a few trips to Peking and Baja Bean Co. and many freshman visits to Wendy's Superbar, The Trellis got very little of my time and money.
Founded in 1980 by resident award-winning chef Marcel Desaulniers, The Trellis had a very upscale 80's feel to it. They may have stuck with that vibe too long. He sold the place in 2009, and it's trended downward steadily. But I always kind of liked the joint.
I had a pair of quick Jameson rocks and split. Quiet, small crowd. The bar is configured differently than it used to be, but it served me well. Well, it served me. Those two not-stingy drinks gave me just the lubricant to get the conversation rolling at dinner with six grad school classmates and the Associate Dean.
Amusing side note: That dean is a terrific guy with a fascinating backstory from Pittsburgh TV on-air sports reporter -- the "Bruce Rader of Steeltown" -- to business school stalwart. He also has a good memory for ridiculous stories, one of which was my first conversation with him. Two and a half years ago I had applied to William and Mary's b-school, and because my undergrad GPA was sub-3.0, I had to get an obligatory phone call from the Associate Dean (AD) to discuss it before being approved for admission.
AD: So Whitney, I just want to let you know that this is a formality. Your career across several industries more than makes up for grades you got 25 years ago. Plus, it's William and Mary, and we know how we grade. But . . . I gotta ask . . . W: Yes? AD: How'd you manage to get exactly a 2.0?? W: Well, Dean So-and-So, I'll tell you the same thing I told my parents. When I got college, they told me that in order to graduate, I had to have a 2.0. I didn't know they meant "or above"!
Yeah, it was doofy and dumb, but apparently amid a sea of boring phone calls with applicants justifying their mediocre undergrad performances, he appreciate the levity. He brought it up the other night and laughed again, saying he'd also told his wife about it for a chuckle. Glad I can play the same part in business school that I played in high school, college, and beyond.
Mantra: They don't give Class Clown to just anyone, you know.
The Trellis closed down two days ago without much fanfare. Its heyday was my heyday, and it was a long slog since. I'm glad that my own blockheaded time mismanagement meant that I got to throw back a last couple of liquor drinks in a quiet toast of a rather classy eatery's 40 years.
You can go home again, but the landscape strays further from how you remember it every time that you do.
We had an emergency meeting of the G:TB executive team this evening, and effective immediately, we're closing all of our offices and asking our staff members to operate from their home offices and/or whichever local coffee shops you generally frequent to make the magic. We also decided that the world needs us to keep delivering the content it expects from us. To wit:
William & Mary's men's basketball team lost, 68-63, to Elon in the first round of the CAA Tournament, a disappointing end to an unexpectedly promising season. We could call into question with both perfect hindsight and documented foresight the decision-making process that led to this year's Tribe roster getting to that outcome. We might yet do that. That's not why we're here.
There's a Tribe basketball team that's smack in the middle of a fight for an NCAA Tournament bid, and they play today.
W&M's women's basketball team went 21-8 this season, 12-6 in CAA play, good for third in the regular season standings. Both win totals are the best in school history. The Tribe takes on Delaware at 6:30 in the conference tournament quarterfinals.
Sophomore guard Eva Hodgson was named first-team All-CAA, averaging 20.7 points, 3.8 rebounds, and 3.6 assists/game. The 5'9" Hodgson (Rindge, New Hampshire represent!) led the conference in scoring, field goal percentage, three-point field goal percentage, and free throw percentage. Decent.
Coach Ed Swanson's team lost all four games it played against league top two seeds Drexel and James Madison, though they did take regular season champion Drexel to overtime in Philly a few weeks ago. As we see it, we've got the league's best team right where we want them.
W&M's women have never made the NCAA Tournament. That sounds familiar. One bid. Not that much to ask for. Looking good, Billy Ray. Feeling good, Louis.
People with states as last names are almost always interesting. Joe Montana. Johnny Utah. Nathan Arizona. Ron New Mexico. This fellow is no exception.
Born Randy Wolfe, he was christened Randy California by none other than Jimi Hendrix in the mid-1960's. There was another Randy in their band at the time (Jimmy James and the Blue Flames), bassist Randy Palmer. That guy became Randy Texas. He was from Texas. Randy Wolfe became Randy California. You can probably guess why. Jimi was a creative whiz with his guitar, but he didn't go deeply clever on nicknames.
Randy California and Hendrix parted ways, and the former formed a band called Spirit. If you don't know them, well, you probably do. Or you should. They were a late 60's/early 70's AM radio mainstay. Okay, youngsters, maybe you'd remember them if you knew they were included on Freedom Rock. Well, turn it up, man.
Spirit's radio-friendly toe-tappers included "I Got a Line on You," "Nature's Way," "Morning Will Come," "Dark-Eyed Woman," "1984," and a handful of others. The Spirit song I knew best was "Animal Zoo," but that was simply because a band we would see back in high school would cover it. They were called Indecision and can be seen here 20 years later doing the same song with only slightly less vigor than they had in 1987.
Spotify listeners interested in hearing Spirit can go here for a big list and here for the meat of it.
Spirit's heyday was '68-'72, but the band carried on, as acts are wont to do, into the 1990's. According to a brief biography page written by Mick Skidmore, Randy California left Spirit for a short stint in the early Seventies after he "had an accident in which he fell from a horse" and was "exhibiting erratic behavior." He came back into the fold a few years later, but they were done charting. Unless you count original Spirit member Jay Ferguson's 1977 hit "Thunder Island."
Also on that loosely scribbled bio page is a note about California's reaction to the death of John Lennon:
...a poem that Randy wrote upon hearing of the death of John Lennon in 1981, applies with equal compassion to it’s[sic] author.
“Beautiful man, Questioning one. Always searching for the reason, You let us visit into your mind, your private world for a time, and what you gave will never die and I will never stop believing in you. We’ll never stop believing your dream can come true….imagine.”
The band plugged on in various iterations until Randy California died in 1997. From Wikipedia:
California drowned in the Pacific Ocean at the age of 45 while rescuing his 12-year-old son Quinn from a rip current near the home of his mother, Bernice Pearl, at Molokai, Hawaii. He managed to push Quinn (who survived) toward the shore.
It adds:
The Randy Craig Wolfe Trust was established after his death and, using royalties from California's recording contracts, financially supports the Randy California Project, an after-school music education program for underprivileged elementary school children in Ventura County.
Here's where it gets (mildly) interesting. 17 years after California died, Mick Skidmore -- the gent who wrote that biography page -- filed suit as "a trustee representing the estate of Spirit guitarist Randy Wolfe." It seems that there is a long-standing copyright grudge that needed running through legal channels. It involved the Spirit song "Taurus," a 2:37-long instrumental album track from their 1968 eponymously titled debut.
What song allegedly ripped it off? That one you may have heard.
Stairway to Heaven.
Oh, boy. Where to begin. Rock royalty wrestling over writing rights is as much a part of the tradition of the genre as is scratching out some 5th-grade-level lyrics over three quick chords in order to impress a prospective girlfriend. Sad to say.
I can't recall if we've trod over this ground here before, but everyone from George Harrison to Robin Thicke have had some courtroom wranglings where plagiarism is concerned. The most interesting I ever heard of was the John Fogerty case . . . when he was accused of stealing from himself.
But "Stairway to Heaven"? The ubiquitous, overplayed-to-absolute-death, 8-minute Led Zep classic (which I still admit to loving)? Come now.
Well, for starters, Page and Plant are probably the most-accused ripper-offers in rock history. Their leveraging of blues standards into rock gold is very, very, very, very well established.
So, let's take a quick listen to this pair of songs.
Well, it's not exactly "Rubber Duckie" and "Rubber Biscuit." Sounds similar. But similar enough to justify a suit?
What Mike Skidmore & Co counted on was a legal tenet called the "inverse ratio rule." According to the University of Michigan Library's website:
The inverse ratio rule says that when the showing that defendant had access to plaintiff’s work is very strong, the bar for showing similarity between the works is correspondingly lower. In addition, when the showing similarity between the works is very strong, the bar for showing that defendant had access to plaintiff’s work is correspondingly lower. Not all circuits follow this rule.
Why is this relevant? According to Wikipedia, "Led Zeppelin opened for Spirit on an American tour in 1968, and also borrowed from "Fresh Garbage" in live performances of the song 'As Long as I Have You'. Jimmy Page's use of a theremin has been attributed to his seeing Randy California use one that he had mounted to his amplifier."
Well, I guess it would be hard to say Jimmy Page hadn't heard the song.
The accusations had been around for a while. In 1997, Guitar World magazine stated that "California's most enduring legacy may well be the finger-picked acoustic theme of the song 'Taurus', which Jimmy Page lifted virtually note for note for the introduction to 'Stairway to Heaven'."
The 2014 lawsuit was denied. According to Rolling Stone, "in September 2018 a three-judge panel on the Ninth Circuit ruled that the original trial involved 'erroneous jury instructions' and ordered a new trial."
Well, that new trial just happened. Bad news for the estate of Randy California. Bad news for fans of the inverse ratio rule. Bad news for the underprivileged elementary school children in Ventura County and their after-school music education program.
Rolling Stone, the journalistic leader in rock and roll for several decades and that of irrelevance and red-faced, uber-liberal, fringe politicking over the last two, offered an informed take that began: “On Monday, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld a 2016 decision that 'Stairway' did not infringe on Spirit’s 1968 instrumental track, 'Taurus,' and in doing so upended a long-standing copyright precedent.”
I'd be curious to get a thought from Zman, Marls, or our other Gheorghe barristers.
What's my thought? Well, as much as I root for the underdog and underprivileged, and as much as people might want to see mega-million rockers with a reputation of pilfering get smacked, I tend to think like the aforementioned John Lennon, who famously said:
All music is rehash. There are only a few notes. Just variations on a theme.
Amen, brother. And when it was offered, "Only 24 hours in a day, only 12 notes a man can play / Music for all, but not just one people," that wasn't a purely original thought, but it was worth saying and worth hearing. Keep the creativity flowing, people.
In February 2017, we mentioned Nathan Knight for the first time in this cobwebby corner of the internet, describing his play in an otherwise desultory loss to Towson. As we wrote, "[F]reshman center Nathan Knight grabbed three boards (two offensive), scored a basket, made two free throws, and ran the floor to make an acrobatic block on Tigers veteran forward John Davis. Knight's efforts helped the Tribe extend their lead to 15, and though they ultimately blew that lead, it was a bit of a coming out party for the exuberant 6'10", 250-pound newcomer."
The title of that post was The Next One(?), posing the question whether Knight would some day have as much impact on the W&M program as the sainted Marcus Thornton. Now, three years later, as Knight capped college career by earning CAA Player of the Year and Defensive Player of the Year honors and making the list of the final five players on the 2020 Kareem Abdul-Jabbar National Center of the Year award, the question's changed.
Is it possible that Nathan Knight is the best player in W&M hoops history?
I toyed with the notion a few weeks ago in a Wrenball post, calling it blasphemous. And it's somewhat hard to compare ball-dominant, whippet-fast, edge-of-your-seat shooting guards with solid, active, all-court 6'10" post players. But if we take the eye test out of it, and try to remove the passion, the stats suggest it's not all that close.
Nathan Knight is the GOAT.
Knight's career numbers equal or surpass Thornton's in nearly every way. They both averaged 17.1 ppg over their illustrious careers, though Knight has yet played three fewer games (and needs 62 points to pass Thornton's school record of 2,178). Thornton has more assists and steals, though not as many more as you'd imagine. Knight, the second-leading rebounder in school history, has more boards this season than Thornton had in his whole career - again not a huge surprise given their size and positional differential.
Efficiency stats tell a more striking story. Knight is a far more efficient scorer than Thornton was, and his career Player Efficiency Rating (PER), which seeks to measure a player's overall contribution, adjusted for pace and competition, is a robust 30.9, which is good for 10th all-time...in the NCAA. His 34.9 this season is tops in the entire country. The excellent Thornton's PER was 18.5. His senior year, he posted a 21.8, good for 8th. In the CAA.
Knight wasn't the only member of this year's surprising Tribe squad to earn conference honors. Junior guard Luke Loewe joined Knight on the All-Defense first team, senior Andy Van Vliet earned third-team all-league honors, and head coach Dane Fischer was named the CAA Coach of the Year.
Bittersweet that last bit. Fischer's a great coach. We'll be lucky to keep him for five years, if his first year is anything to be believed. He's calm, smart, and obviously capable of maximizing talent. The circumstances of his hiring still gall, and that won't change. It's not his fault, so we'll celebrate his success, and root for the Tribe.
Root for the Tribe, indeed, as they take their 21-10, 13-5 record and second seed in the CAA Tournament in Washington, DC. They play the winner of this evening's JMU/Elon play-in game (which will be done by the time you read this, so insert the correct team name accordingly). Nothing's certain in a league with as much parity as the CAA (with lots of people picking the 6th seeded Northeastern to win the tournament), but W&M was 4-0 agains the Dukes and Phoenix this season and will be heavily favored to win their quarterfinal.
If they do, they'll face the winner of the quarter between the aforementioned Huskies and Towson. Knight beat Northeastern at the buzzer twice this season, while the Tribe split with the Tigers (each team won on the road by double-digits), who always give us trouble with their physicality. Crapshoot, thy name is CAA semifinal.
And if by the grace of God, Fischer's kids get to the tournament final on Tuesday night, they'll almost certainly see Hofstra, the league's best team for most of the season. W&M smoked the Pride by 27 on Long Island early in the season before Joe Mihalich's team returned the favor by 23 in Williamsburg in February. Have I mentioned crapshoots?
Nathan Knight just became the first player to win both POY and DPOY in the CAA since George Mason's George Evans did it in 2001. Evans' Patriots went on to win the CAA Tournament that season. May history repeat itself, and may the basketball gods finally have mercy on our tormented souls. Somewhere, Tony Shaver would smile.
“Nobody embodies more fully the connection between the African-American spiritual, the blues, R. & B., rock and roll — the way that hardship and sorrow were transformed into something full of beauty and vitality and hope. American history wells up when Aretha sings. That's why, when she sits down at a piano and sings 'A Natural Woman,' she can move me to tears — the same way that Ray Charles's version of 'America the Beautiful' will always be in my view the most patriotic piece of music ever performed — because it captures the fullness of the American experience, the view from the bottom as well as the top, the good and the bad, and the possibility of synthesis, reconciliation, transcendence.”
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