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Monday, September 30, 2024 Music WeekMusic: Current count 43007 [42995] rated (+12), 42 [26] unrated (+16). Too many distractions this past week to spend any serious time listening to new music. I wouldn't be surprised if I come up with even less next week, although things should settle down shortly thereafter. Again I took an extra day for Speaking of Which, mostly because that's how I set the file up. I expected it to be similarly abbreviated, but I wound up with 171 links, 10275 words -- nowhere near record length, but pretty substantial, with lots of interesting stuff. Then I rushed this out on the same day, to keep it within September. I may update this (and/or Speaking of Which) on Tuesday, but really need to be working on something else. PS [10-01]: I rushed this post out late last night, to squeeze it into September, which mostly mattered because I didn't want to take the extra time to dig out this week's paltry offering and replant it in the now extant but empty October Streamnotes file. In the clear light of morning -- something I prefer to sleep through, but once again failed today -- I can add a few more words. It takes me a while to get going these days, so this is prime time for collecting my thoughts. When I do get moving, my main task today will be to work on the small (12x12) second bedroom upstairs, and its adjacent L-shaped closet. The house was built in 1920, which means the walls and ceilings were plaster on lathe. When we bought the house, in 1999, the room had ugly wallpaper and the ceiling was painted with a glittery popcorn finish. The closet was also wallpapered, with a pattern simulating wood. We hated all those things, but lived with them. I built a bookcase that covered the entire west wall, except for the closet door. I built another bookcase I situated on the east wall, just north of the big window. The other side of the window had a standalone bookcase, as did the north wall next to the east corner. The rest of the north wall, underneath its own big window, was occupied by a futon, usable as a spare bed, on a crude platform I had built. Laura's desk was up against the south wall. A few years after we arrived, I noticed a crack in the ceiling, near the southwest corner, extending from the entry door out about three feet. I watched that crack grow over twenty-some years. A few months ago, some of the plaster had detached and lowered an inch or two, making its collapse inevitable. I started thinking about ways to push it back up and/or patch it over, but did nothing before it did collapse. I started looking for help to repair it, and finally found some. Finding more cracks in the same ceiling, we decided to recover the whole ceiling with a new layer of 3/8-inch plaster board. We -- meaning our money and their labor, but I wasn't exctly a passive bystander -- did that last week. To prep, we had to move everything out of the room. For good measure, I also had them steam off the wallpaper, so I could paint the walls, and I cleared out the closet. Some years ago, I figured the walls weren't worth the trouble of repairing, so could be covered up with paneling. I bought several sheets, stored in the garage wood pile for an opportune time, such as now. Riverside Handyman did the ceiling, including a quick paint, and took down the room wallpaper. I used his steamer to work on the closet, where the walls proved to be as bad as anticipated. That leaves me with the task of finishing the painting, fixing up the closet, and moving everything back so we can reduce the upstairs clutter to normal levels. Big push today (and probably tomorrow, and possibly longer) will be to sand and prep the bedroom walls, caulk the window frames, and mask them off for painting. But also I need to finish prepping the walls and ceiling in the closet -- the latter has a big hole, which used to provide attic access, to fill in and level. The walls mostly need a rough mud job, filling in cracks, corners, and some large missing chunks, but it won't need much sanding, as it will all be covered with paneling. Aside from impatience, I have another deadline, which is that my brother, his wife, and their daughter are coming for a visit, arriving late Wednesday. They won't be needing the bedroom, and chances are I can put them to work on various projects -- not just this one, as I have more lined up -- but one point of the trip is a separate project, which is to finally sort through the stuffed attic of our ancestral family home on South Main Street. My parents bought that small house in 1950, a few months before I was born, and lived their until they died, in a three-month span of 2000. They both grew up on farms -- my mother in the Arkansas Ozarks, my father in the Kansas Dust Bowl -- and through the Great Depression, moving to Wichita in the 1940s for war work. They were resourceful and self-sufficient, which among much more meant that they kept a lot of stuff. My father's "super-power" was his knack for packing things to maximize use of space -- I'm pretty good at that myself, but not nearly as good as he was at remembering what he had and where it was. After they died, we cleared out some obvious stuff, but left most of it for my brother, who moved into the house, and added his own stash. When his work took him to Washington, my sister -- who had inherited the deed -- moved in with her grown son (and her own stash), who still lives there, after she died in 2018. While the attic has been plundered several times over the years -- that "wall of books" in the bedroom I'm working on mostly date from my purchases from before I left home in 1972 (or 1975) -- one harbors the suspicion that there are still precious memories (probably just junk to others, as antique treasures aren't very likely) buried in deep nooks and crannies. So the plan is to gather some younger folk willing and able to do the spelunking to drag everything out, so we can sort it all out into the obvious categories (trash, recycle, desired by one of us, or deferred/repacked). They're figuring two days, which strikes me as optimistic, but not inconceivable. I think part of the operation should be to catalog everything (except the rankest trash) into a spreadsheet for future reference -- especially everything that gets deferred. I could use some sort of database of my own stuff, especially as I feel increasing need to unburden. I'm not sure of the schedule for all of this. My niece is just budgeting enough time for the housecleaning, but my brother may be able to stay a bit longer. However long that is, I will mostly be occupied with them, while letting my usual grind slide. Plenty to do later, as we wrap up the year with another Francis Davis Jazz Critics Poll. Obvious point from below is that the unheard demo queue has grown considerably. And that doesn't count the download offers waiting in a mail directory, if indeed I ever get to them. (I did download the new Thumbscrew, but most just get shunted aside.) This week's King Sunny Adé albums were a side-effect of Brad Luen's Ten favorite African albums of 1974. I didn't manage to get to the Adé albums on his list, because I started looking for gaps in my own list, especially as the 1974 albums Luen cites are late entries in multi-volume series. Having just finished Timothy Egan's Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis, I felt it was time to dust off my copy of Ned Blackhawk's much broader Native/American history, The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History. I've long had non-expert but somewhat more than passing knowledge of the subject -- I'm guessing I've read ten or so more/less focused books, starting c. 1970 with Peter Farb, Alvin Josephy, and especially Vine Deloria Jr.'s Custer Died for Your Sins -- and I've often of late found myself thinking back on that history, especially for insights into possible evolution of settler-colonial societies. Breaking news today: Iran launches about 180 ballistic missiles at Israel. Scroll down and the previous headline reads: "Israel's recent airstrikes destroyed half of Hezbollah's arsenal, U.S. and Israeli officials say." As I've noted, Hezbollah's arsenal was always intended not to attack Israel but to deter Israeli attack. Obviously, it was never sufficient to do so, and even less so as Israel is amassing tanks on the Lebanon border. I've never bought the argument -- so often and readily repeated by American media -- that Hezbollah is some kind of Iranian proxy, its strings pulled from Tehran, or that Hezbollah has any aggressive intent against Israel beyond what it sees as self-defense, or that Iran has any designs against Israel beyond the self-defense of its co-religionists in the region. But Israel's latest attacks on Lebanon are, as was undoubtedly their intent, forcing Iran to fight back. I am saddened by this, and do not approve, but it's time to reiterate a point that I just made just yesterday:
I didn't write this up yesterday, but I did entertain the idea of offering an extreme example: suppose Hezbollah has a nuclear bomb, and could deliver it deep inside Israel, and explode it, killing a hundred thousand or more Israelis (including quite a few Palestinians), would that still be Netanyahu's fault. Yes, it would. (It would also lead to a "why didn't you tell us?" scene, like in Dr. Strangelove. And while it was a pretty safe bet that Hezbollah had no nuclear capability, perhaps Israel should have a think before "counterattacking" Iran in the same way it went after Lebanon.) One way you know that this is all Netanyahu's fault is because he is the single person who could, even if just acting on a whim, put an end to the entire war. He has that power. He should be held responsible for it. New records reviewed this week: Manu Chao: Viva Tu (2024, Because Music): French-born Spanish singer-songwriter, sings in both, English, and several other languages; started group Mano Negra (1984-95), six solo albums 1998-2008 (a couple personal favorites there), returns after a 16 year break (although he's released several singles). First couple songs had me wondering, before he found his old groove, and delighted to the end. A- [sp] Colin James: Chasing the Sun (2024, Stony Plain): Canadian blues-rocker, eponymous debut 1988, early albums had a retro-swing aspect -- especially those with his Little Big Band. B [sp] Lizz Wright: Shadow (2024, Blues & Greens): Jazz singer, from Atlanta, started in a gospel group, eighth album since 2003. Impressive voice, but limited appeal. B+(*) [sp] Recent reissues, compilations, and vault discoveries: None. Old music: Sunny Ade & His Green Spot Band: The Master Guitarist Vol. 1 (1970 [1983], African Songs): Nigerian singer-guitarist, has produced many albums from 1967 on, came to world attention in 1982 when Mango released his Juju Music, some of his earlier work later issued by Shanchie (The Best of the Classic Years and Gems From the Classic Years (1967-1974). I still recommend those (the former I have at A+, as does Christgau), but streaming offers other spots for toe-dipping, like this 6-or-10-song, 34:16 former LP (first "side" has five song titles mixed into one track). Date info is spotty. I'm not sure I'll be able to make fine distinctions among many similar albums, but this one is superb. A- [sp] King Sunny Ade and His African Beats: The Message (1981, Sunny Alade): Robert Christgau, in his dive into Adé's early Nigerian albums (such as he could find), singled this one out as the pick of the litter (while alluding to another one with orange cover -- later identified as Eje Nlogba. Hard for me to be sure, but this is certainly a contender. A- [yt] King Sunny Ade and His African Beats: Check 'E' (1981, Sunny Alade): Another nice Nigerian album, feels a bit slighter. B+(***) [sp] King Suny Ade & His African Beats: Juju Music of the 80's (1981, Sunny Alade): More seductive grooves. B+(***) [sp] King Suny Adé & His African Beats: Ajoo (1983, Sunny Alade): Cover just shows the man with electric guitar, which may be the focus, but the beats are complex, the groove sinuous, and the vocals neatly woven in, whatever they mean. Not sure I've heard it all -- first side for sure, and at least half of the second, but I'm satisfied. [Reissued in US by Makossa.] A- [yt] King Sunny Ade & His African Beats: Bobby (1983, Sunny Alade): With Juju Music released internationally on Island, he continued releasing albums in Nigeria, with this one of several (five?) before his second Island-released album, 1984's Synchro System. This one is relatively subdued, although seductively so. B+(***) [sp] King Sunny Ade: E Dide/Get Up (1992 [1995], Mesa): Island dropped him after Aura (1984), as best I recall due to the expense of touring with his big band. He kept up recording, with this one of the few albums to get much notice outside Africa. B+(***) [sp] Batsumi: Batsumi (1974 [2011], Matsuli Music): South African jazz-fusion group founded in Soweto, South Africa in 1972. Some typical township jive riffs, attractive as ever, with other things, including vocals, that don't have quite the same appeal. B+(*) [sp] Moldy Goldies: Colonel Jubilation B. Johnston and His Mystic Knights Band and Street Singers Attack the Hits (1966, Columbia): One-shot album by Bob Johnston (1932-2015), started c. 1956 as a songwriter (as were his grandmother and mother), recorded a couple rockabilly singles, but made his mark as a producer, scoring a hit for Timi Yuro in 1962, working for Kapp and Dot, and moving on to Columbia in 1965, which assigned him to produce Bob Dylan (through New Morning), Simon & Garfunkel, Johnny Cash, Marty Robbins, Flatt & Scruggs, Burl Ives, and Leonard Cohen, before going independent c. 1970 ("most successfully with Lindisfarne on Fog on the Tyne" -- so not so famous, but probably beat his Columbia salary). This, as I said, was a one-shot project, artist name folded into the subtitle (and compressed above), the credited musicians aliased (although most appear to have been obscure studio musicians). The eleven songs were all big hits from the previous year, things I still remember well from AM radio at the time, although if you're even a few years younger you may have missed more than a few. They were "goldies" by RIAA calculation, rendered instantly moldy by mock-skiffle arrangements and brass band, but 58 years later they've aged into postmodern classics. Compares well to Peter Stampfel's 20th Century in 100 Songs, except focused on a year that really holds up to the treatment. Of course, some people won't get the joke (although probably fewer now than then). Nadir is "Secret Agent Man" followed by "(You're My) Soul and Inspiration." If you're down with them, you'll love the rest. A- [sp] Unpacking: Found in the mail last week:
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