music

Music  /  Mythology
Losing My Religion
February 1, 2016
charles i. letbetter - losing my religion

Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.—Albert Einstein

 

charles i. letbetter - losing my religion

When religion gets in the way of doing what is right, it’s time to toss religion in the dumpster

I think I’ve mentioned a time or two before that I often listen to gospel music while editing photos, especially nudes. The juxtaposition may sound funny, but this is the music with which I was raised. We didn’t even have a secular album in the house until 1972; mother wouldn’t allow it and Poppa wasn’t inclined to argue in the first place. So those old-time gospel quartets, the greater majority of whom are gone now, were the music on which I cut my teeth. Regardless of the texts involved, the music is as comfortable as a pair of well-worn jeans; always has been, always will be.

When I heard the gospel singer-songwriter-producer Kirk Franklin had a new album, I was eager to listen. Mr. Franklin is not your average gospel artist; he likes keeping his music real and contemporary. He set Twitter on fire last week when photos emerged of him in the studio with Kanye West. Even I don’t like everything he does. You’re not likely to hear any hymns on his albums, and the sound is a long way from the Blackwood Brothers quartet of the 1960s or even the pop-church sound of Amy Grant in the 80s. The direction he’s headed, though, reminds me distinctly of the attitude the late Keith Green had during his short life. Kirk has equal amounts of passion and honesty that often grates against established religious structures.

This new album takes that honest reality a step further. The first track, which is also the title track, is a spoken word piece, something different for Mr. Franklin. This sets the tone for the rest of the album, and at the same time is a clarion call to would-be believers that this thing called religion is the empty antithesis of being a true follower of God. His real-world pop culture references give nods to Michael Stipe and REM (who had a hit song by the same name), Taylor Swift, Michael Jackson’s hit Man in the Mirror, raising the minimum wage, LGBTQ rights, loss of the middle class, police brutality, economic disparity, and even a throwback to Franklin Delano Roosevelt. This is beautifully composed poetry that doesn’t need music to hit its mark.

The strongest lines may come toward the end. Expect some pushback as it takes a moment for these lyrics to kick in.

One nation under God
God, show us the way
The science of opinion
God is not a buffet
You pick what you want so no God on your plate
The preacher isn’t God
Religion’s first mistake
Serving stewards, shepherds, not kings
Has to die to his flesh everyday like me

Yeah, that’s not going to set well with the right-wing Joel Osteen/Creflo Dollar following, mega-church attending crowd that puts preachers on the same pedestal as deity.  Mr. Franklin intends to not only knock them from their perch, but disassemble their temples of money at the same time.

The hard-hitting sound isn’t just limited to the first track, though. The second track, Miracles, delivers the Kirk Franklin sound one expects right up until the five-minute mark, at the end of the song, when the music fades to the unsettling screams of a woman pleading, “They shot my baby! What am I going to do? They shot my baby!” That dissolves into a news report of a theater shooting, which segues into a mashup of similar news stories over which the growing chant of “Black lives matter” begins to emerge. The track ends with a very strong declaration: “The revolution is now being televised.”

This is not your typical Sunday morning gospel.

Make no mistake, the album is still God-centered, but it’s a message of love and inclusion rather than exclusion and limitation.

National Public Radio (NPR) published an interview with Mr. Franklin this morning that is well worth hearing. In the interview, he explains his reasoning and purpose more concisely than I can regurgitate here. Take a listen. Even for someone whose agnosticism is as jaded as mine, Losing My Religion is a very welcome entry to the gospel music scene. I do believe that Mr. Franklin’s goal is something that could make a tremendous difference in the overall health of our country. Whether one believes or not, this is a good cause.

You can listen to the full album here:

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When Nipples Offend
January 30, 2016

The secret to success is to offend the greatest number of people.—George Bernard Shaw

 

charles i. letbetter when nipples offend

Policies suggesting that women’s nipples are offensive and men’s do not suggest God and/or evolution made a mistake

I’m rather surprised that I would have cause to visit this topic more than once in a week. Just a couple of days ago, we posted a video from the New York Times and talked about whether efforts by #FreeTheNipple and HeForShe were doing any good. While both are doing a wonderful job of raising awareness, which is a good start, the pace of change in painfully slow in the face of antiquated, hypocritical, and misogynistic moralities.

Just how heavy-handed some entities are become very apparent yesterday when Russian model Irina Shayk shared a collection of images from her recent Givenchy campaign. She appears in the ads with male model Chris Moore. Ms. Shayk is nude, Mr. Moore is topless, but their torsos are pressed together seductively so that nothing is actually showing. At least, that was the intention. Apparently, the fascists at Instagram get their jollies pulling out their magnifying glass and inspecting every little detail of a photo, because they managed to find just the hint of Irina’s nipple in the shadows and took down the photo.

Now, everyone who has half a brain is well aware that the censors at Instagram base their policies on a 13th-century morality that equates female nudity with the very devil him/herself while totally excusing men who do the same. This particular instance, however, is especially egregious as someone has to really get up close and wayyyyy to personal to even notice the hint of areola that can be found in the shadow of this photo. Here, look for yourself:

charles i. letbetter - when nipples offend

Givenchy

At this point, I fail to understand why anyone uses Instagram for anything more than photos of their cat and what was regurgitated from dinner. Sure, I have an account, but there are more pictures of cats and food there than people. I especially fail to understand why Tommy Hilfiger is putting in a separate Instagram pit at his Fall/Winter runway show and Burberry has chosen 16-year-old Brooklyn Beckham to shoot its new fragrance campaign, live on Instagram. Not only do both acts offend legitimate photographers everywhere, but they further endorse the sort of idiotic policies that Instagram uses to continue their inequality toward women!

Meanwhile, someone shoved pop artist Rita Ora in front of the lens of Terry Richardson, who has had more accusations of sexual misbehavior than Bill Cosby, but yet someone keeps letting him take pictures of naked women. Why, I fail to understand. Bill Cosby has been shamed into perpetual hiding, but not only does Richardson roam free, publishers keep hiring the creep! Exactly how this all is supposed to make sense, I don’t know. Richardson’s name alone has the power to offend, and perhaps that’s his schtick.

Of course, the photos themselves are, true to Richardson’s form, quite horrid. Again, don’t take my word for it. Look for yourself:

charles i. letbetter - when nipples offend

Pardon me while I yawn

Not surprisingly, there was pushback yesterday when these pictures became public. Some of the criticism was to be expected, given that the music industry as a whole seems to be in this rut of one artist disparaging another. However, I found it interesting that the Telegraph‘s left-leaning Rebecca Reid, who has supported nudes in the past, totally went off on Ora, calling her topless photos, “A slap in the face of women everywhere.” The points she makes, essentially claiming that Ora’s stunt objectifies women rather than celebrating and supporting them, are valid though the examples she uses are a little shaky. Rita’s appearance in the mag is only to promote her new album, not to express some greater sentiment or value.

And Terry Richardson’s bad photography just makes the whole thing trashy.

Let’s face it: our whole attitude toward nipples and breasts and body parts, in general, is skewed. We can’t have one standard for men and a totally opposite one for women. If you don’t think that approach is wrong, then you might be a degenerate misogynist in need of an attitude adjustment.

And through all this one thing seems frightfully obvious: I need to be shooting more nudes and offend more people. Apparently that’s all anyone notices any more.

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Music  /  science
Don’t Diss The Astrophysicist
January 27, 2016
charles i. letbetter- don't diss the astrophysicist

Without physics there’d be no Fashion Channel — there’d be no TV. But w/o fashion, physicists might just be naked. Not good.— Neil deGrasse Tyson

 

charles i. letbetter - Don't Piss Off The Astrophysicist

All music is appreciated equally in space because there is no sound in a vacuum

“Stupid is as stupid does.” My mother said that long before the movie Forrest Gump made it popular. Typically, she would say that when a particularly troublesome child was behaving exactly like its particularly troubled parents. Mother also said that it is, “difficult to teach children who are willing to believe everything without a second thought.” She encountered plenty of both over the years, like the little girl who was afraid to sit in her chair in the classroom because someone told here there were bugs in the wood waiting to eat her butt. Had the child been three or four, she would have been excused of her naiveté, but by fifth grade such nonsense, on both sides of that situation—the girl and the brat who was being mean—could hardly be tolerated.

Why science denial has been so strongly embraced the past eight years, after decades of great American achievement across all the science fields, has been disconcerting. I fail to understand why people who seem otherwise intelligent can just randomly choose to replace that which is reasonably proven through scientific process with some myth that doesn’t even hold together as it passes from one person to the next. Such willful and blind ignorance leaves me quite concerned not only for the future of our country but for the survival of our species.

I had seen noted in some obscure reference that anti-science groups such as the Flat Earth Society were enjoying a resurgence of interest along with those denying climate change, but I had always assumed that their members were limited to those who ingested a severe amount of paint chips as children. Then, over the weekend, this guy, who allegedly is a rapper and calls himself B.o.B. makes an incredible post about the earth being flat. The Internet proceeded to perform its version of a brain explosion.

Not being the world’s greatest rap fan, I had to Google B.o.B. and see who he really is. Bobby Ray Simmons, Jr. from Decatur, GA, a suburban town a few miles South of Atlanta. My first thought was, “Aww shit, I bet this is one of the dudes who tried pushing his CD on me in the parking lot outside Whiskey Peach,” but it couldn’t have been. I was here in Indy by the time someone decided ol’ Bobby knew how to rhyme. Still, I had to roll my eyes. Rappers coming out of Decatur or anywhere on the South side of ATL has become about as cliché as peaches and sweet tea, and not nearly as good. I was all set to just ignore the whole situation, assuming it would go away the next time I refreshed my browser. Such stupidity tends to have an especially short shelf life on the Internet.

But then, something rather wonderful happened. For reasons that are his own, Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson decided to reply to B.o.B.’s tweet about the NYC skyline’s visibility over the horizon:

The astrophysicist also attempts to educate the rapper on the way stars move. Bobby got offended, apparently, and one of the things I appreciate about Dr. Tyson is that he goes out of his way to make sure people understand that being bad at science doesn’t make someone a bad person. He posted to Twitter:

The astrophysicist is much more magnanimous than I fear I would be in such a situation. In fact, more than a few people were ready to go to the mat for Dr. Tyson, one of those being his nephew, Steve, who is a “hip-hop MC” and DJ in Philadelphia. Steve didn’t take to kindly to Bobby dissing his uncle, so he put together some music of his own with a track called Flat to Fact. Here, go ahead and take a listen (warning, if your ears are not accustomed to the speed of contemporary rap, you may need to listen multiple times before you actually catch what ol’ Steve is layin’ down):

At least Bobby seems to have the good sense to know when to quit, as he’s gone on to other somewhat less offensive methods of hyping his new album. He seems to have dropped the subject of the earth’s shape for now.

What I think this shows, however, is that the Internet doesn’t take kindly to those who display their science ignorance in ridiculous ways and, even more important, one should never, ever diss the astrophysicist. Ever.

 

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Music  /  PotD  /  science
History and Hashtags
January 27, 2016
charles i. letbetter - history and hashtags

We have the power to make this the best generation of mankind in the history of the world or to make it the last.—John F. Kennedy

 

charles i. letbetter - history and hashtags

Today may be one of our greatest achievements or more devastating disasters; which is totally up to us

27 January is one of those dates that history just seems to like. Events of note, people whose lives are noteworthy, have connections to this date in a volume that exceeds the norm and causes us to sit up and take notice. One day can make a difference, a big one, and much of that comes down to the actions or decisions of one person. Here’s a partial list of historical events that happened on this date, concatenated from the Associated Press:

  • In 1756, composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in Salzburg, Austria.
  • In 1880, Thomas Edison received a patent for his electric incandescent lamp.
  • In 1901, opera composer Giuseppe Verdi died in Milan, Italy, at age 87.
  • In 1913, the musical play “The Isle O’ Dreams” opened in New York; it featured the song “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” by Ernest R. Ball, Chauncey Olcott and George Graff Jr.
  • In 1944, during World War II, the Soviet Union announced the complete end of the deadly German siege of Leningrad, which had lasted for more than two years.
  • In 1945, during World War II, Soviet troops liberated the Nazi concentration camps Auschwitz and Birkenau in Poland.
  • In 1965, “Up the Down Staircase,” Bel Kaufman’s novel about a young, idealistic teacher at a New York inner-city school, was published by Prentice-Hall.
  • In 1973, the Vietnam peace accords were signed in Paris.
  • Ten years ago: Salzburg, Austria, held an exuberant 250th birthday party for its native son, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Western Union delivered its last telegram. The first inhalable version of insulin, Exubera, won federal approval.

Understanding this is just a partial list and realizing how broad a representation of life it represents, perhaps we might find some encouragement in making a little extra effort to make this 17 January yet another day of note. To that end, the hashtag #LetsMakeTodayBetterBy has been trending since yesterday afternoon. While celebrating the great lives and events of history is important, equally necessary is that we make the effort for today to become one of those days that history remembers.

Granted, not everything for which today might be known would be obvious at first. Who can foretell which of the hundreds of thousands of new lives born today will grow up to excel in ways we currently cannot imagine. Inventions that might seem overly simple or unimportant when first unveiled may prove to dramatically change all our lives. Yet, without our making an effort to improve today, and the future, this just becomes another day where history yawns and keeps on going.

How can you make today better? Here are some of the things that have been mentioned so far:

As I’m writing, there are over 66,000 suggestions for how to make today better. Naturally, some of them are self-serving and more than a few relate to specific events that, for geographic reasons, are not necessarily available to everyone. Still, by making a deliberate effort to make today better, we all increase the chances that this will be another 27 January for the history books. The future history is up to you.

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PotD
The Virtue of Silence
January 26, 2016
charles i. letbetter - virtue of silence

I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, I am ungrateful to those teachers.—Khalil Gibran

 

 

charles i. letbetter - virtue of silence

In silence we hear the whispers of wisdom

Among the list of people whom I can no longer find, and may well be deceased, is an associate professor of music by the name of Robert Woods. Dr. Woods was a rather unassuming individual from my student perspective, but in January of 1982, while teaching a course in electronic music, he taught us a very valuable lesson about the importance of silence. His assignment sounded simple enough: find a place with absolute silence, and see how long you can stand it. Being cocky college students, we laughed. It was J-term and the campus was more than half empty. Finding a quiet spot would be easy.

But Dr. Woods didn’t say find a quiet spot. His instructions were to find a place absolutely void of sound and when class convened the next day we shared our stories of just how difficult it had been to complete the assignment. So difficult, in fact, that I was the only one who had actually found a place of complete silence: the morgue.

I worked part time in a funeral home. After everyone else had left for the evening, I went into the empty embalming room, which was totally sealed, and shut the door. The experience might have been eery had I not been accustomed to being in the room. There was nothing in there that would make a sound without human intervention, or so I thought. As I settled in on a stool, I soon realized that the fluorescent bulbs were humming. One wouldn’t have noticed under normal conditions, but when all other distractions were removed, there it was: a low but distinct hum. There was only one thing to do: turn off the lights.

Yes, sitting along in a sealed embalming room in the dark is eery. Worse than the dark, though, was the complete silence. Not a sound. I not only could hear my own breathing, but my heart beat sounded louder the longer I sat there. I’d shift my weight on the stool and the shuffle of my slacks against the metal was loud. I cracked my knuckles and it sounded like fireworks. With its ceramic tile floor and walls, the acoustics of the room amplified any sound, but the only sound was that of me, being alive. I stayed for what felt like an eternity then felt my way along the wall back to the door. I had been in the room a mere four minutes.

Dr. Woods’ point had been that silence is a necessary part of music and he wanted us to experience silence so we would appreciate the presence of rests amidst a flurry of sound. Music, he explained, finds its life not in the cacophony of notes and sounds as we might layer them together, but in those brief moments of silence, the rests, especially when unexpected, that allow us to catch our breath.

I can’t say I learned a great deal from the remainder of that class. Electronic music was still finding its roots and our resources, which had been borrowed, were painfully limited. Dr. Woods soon left for a teaching position at a university that appreciated his forward thinking and we went on to do other things that had no relationship to our degrees. What stuck, though, was that very important lesson in the virtue of silence.

Life since that moment in 1982 has only gotten increasingly louder. The reason I get up at 4:00 AM every morning to write these articles is because, in relative silence I can think, put words in order, consider what phrasing best communicates an idea, and pull together stories that are, hopefully, worth reading. Outside this morning, the wind is literally howling and the heater is struggling to keep our house warm, but in the absence of children laughing, music playing, or the whole world trying to talk at the same time, there is a peacefulness that gives life amidst the cacophony.

One of the reasons I so dislike presidential election years is the amount of overwhelming noise they generate. Every candidate, especially at this point of the approaching primaries, is shouting as loud as they can, trying to shove their message through the eye of the needle that is our attention span. Add to that all the sports, not just the impending Super Bowl, but all the cricket and the soccer and the basketball going on around the world. There are ads, and movies, and trailers, and … I think someone has a field trip today but I don’t remember which child. Then, there’s laundry and dishes and I suppose I should plan something for dinner because people do need to eat every once in a while. Pictures to schedule and take and edit. Conversations about books and an upcoming deadline and no I’ve not even started that outline. Did I remember to order underwear? I hope so, because I don’t have time to go out and buy more. Rumors that Sarah Burton is leaving Alexander McQueen and going to Dior, are they true? Men’s fashion in Paris, then couture, then, SHOWTIME, a month of ready-to-wear. And …

So. Much. Noise.

Learning the virtuosity of silence doesn’t happen by accident. Too many people ignore the rest signs. We need those quiet places; in our lives, in our thoughts, in our schedules, in our creativity. We  need space to take a breath so that we don’t choke on our own lifelong diatribes.

May you find that moment, if not now, soon, where you can experience the virtue of silence. May you find Peace. And thank you, Dr. Woods, wherever you are.

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Music
Steven Tyler: Where Country & Rock Collide
January 24, 2016
charles i. letbetter - Steven Tyler: Country and Rock Collide

The things that come to those that wait may be the things left by those that got there first.— Steven Tyler

 

charles i. letbetter - steven tyler: country & rock collide

Rock and Country music have been getting closer to the same sound for over 30 years

Steven Tyler is an iconic image in the music world. Sometimes referred to as “everyone’s favorite grandmother” because of the striped hair and plethora of flowing scarves, the former Aerosmith frontman presents a character unlike any other in any music genre. I mean, come on, who else would be wandering around New York City in the middle of a blizzard with his daughter, and then take over a CNN live report? The dude may look like a lady from time to time, but he is so totally unique both in sight and in sound as to be instantly recognizable even if he were to try his hand at opera.

While the Met stage may not be currently within his sites, though, Steven Tyler has set his eyes firmly upon the country music market. He announced last year that his next album would be country, but his first single from that album, Love Is Your Name, failed to generate a tremendous amount of excitement. Perhaps the sound was too smooth. Perhaps country fans just weren’t interested. Whatever the reason, response was more of a bored yawn than what typically accompanies the rocker’s new releases.

If at first you don’t succeed, drop a second single, which is exactly what Tyler did this past week. The new single, Red, White & You, certainly sounds more country with a clear taste of fiddle and banjo in the band, but this is still Steven Tyler’s voice. He even starts the song with his signature whoop. So, while the lyrics go on about the Fourth of July and Tom Petty and all those other themes that seem standard in a contemporary country song, the sound one hears still resembles that which we’ve associated with Aerosmith and rock and roll for the past 40 years.

Country music fans are going to be divided, as they have been for quite a while. Traditional country fans more closely identify with what the Grammy’s categorize as “American Roots” music, that acoustic-driven, old-school, nasal-toned, boot-and-stetson-wearing sound of Willie, Waylon, and the boys. There’s is the sound defined by Hank Williams, Sr., Little Jimmy Dickens, and Roy Acuff. Yet, even there we’ve seen some crossover. One of the artists nominated for this year’s Grammy for best American Roots song is none other than the Eagles’ Don Henley singing with country legend Merle Haggard.

Contemporary country has been courting rock music for a while. Think back to Garth Brooks and the controversy his rock-driven sound created some thirty-plus years ago. This week’s Billboard country chart includes artists such as Luke Bryan, Sam Hunt, and LoCash whose heavily produced songs don’t sound all that different from 80s and early 90s rock. Even artists once considered staunchly country, such as Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift, have more of a pop sound now than anything that might have once been considered anywhere close to old-fashioned country.

Obviously, music genres don’t stay the same forever; they change and evolve just like everything else on the planet. If Steven Tyler wants to call his new album country music, why stop him? After all, Aerosmith fans have grown older; we don’t rock as hard as we did in the 70s and 80s. Country music may be more our speed. At the same time, however, there’s a lot of tradition in country music that could be lost if the genre continues to merge so closely with rock that one has difficulty telling the difference.

I’m not the one to make the final call. I’ll put the link below and let you listen for yourself. Just remember that when one blends Country and Rock, what you get is a Crock, as in: full of …

 

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Music  /  PotD
If Musicians Would Stop Dying
January 19, 2016
charles i. letbetter - if musicians would stop dying

Like family, we are tied to each other. This is what all good musicians understand.—Billy Joel

 

charles i. letbetter - if musicians would stop dying

Beautiful music is timeless, but the musicians creating that music are not

Tuesdays are beginning to annoy me. Traditionally, major music labels drop new songs and new albums on Tuesday, so that is how I plan my day’s soundtrack. Some weeks I hear some really great stuff, others not so much, but that’s part of the joy. This year, however, this 2016, is upsetting that plan. Last week, instead of music dropped that day, I, along with nearly everyone else on the planet, was still listening to David Bowie’s final album, Blackstar. We even wrote about it. Now, this morning, I’m postponing new music once again to listen to Glenn Frey’s last album After Hours (2012). If musicians would stop dying for a couple of weeks, I would be most appreciative.

There are some musicians whose deaths are not quite so surprising. Country crooner Mel Tillis has been in critical condition in a Nashville hospital for several days. Had it been his obituary in my newsfeed, I would have been sad, but not surprised. There are several others, rock stars whose lives in the 70s should have dictated early deaths but didn’t, who I suspect are one good bout of pneumonia away from the grave. But Glenn Frey, man, I wasn’t ready.

What’s frightening, is that Glenn wasn’t the only musician to pass yesterday. Within 24 hours, we also lost Blowfly, musician/songwriter/producer whose work many found offensive; Dale Griffin, drummer for Mott The Hoople, one of those bands you didn’t know you knew;  Mic Gillette, brass player with Tower Of Power, a band that helped define the sound of the early 70s; and Gary Loizzo, lead singer for American Breed, whose Bend Me, Shape Me put them on the charts in 1967. Loizzo was also the sound engineer for Styx, who recorded many of their hits in Loizzo’s studio. 

Of course, musicians aren’t the only ones who seem to be dying at a heavier rate than usual. If you were paying attention, just this past Sunday I wrote about the high number of notable deaths just last week. What makes a difference with musicians is that we connect them so strongly with their music and their music is so strongly connected to our lives. Music is not just something to keep our ears occupied. Music defines places, memories, and even relationships. Is there anyone from my generation who doesn’t have some memory connected to Hotel California, or Take It Easy? When musicians die, we lose more than a person, we lose a connection to a specific time and place.

One might think music fans would be somewhat accustomed to the unexpected and even untimely deaths of the musicians they honor. After all, the 27 Club, musicians who died young at the age of 27, is legendary; from Jesse Belvin in 1960, to Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin in ’70, Kurt Cobain in ’94 to Amy Winehouse in 2011. The list of club members is long enough that every musician should make a big deal of making it to their 28th birthday.

Even when they don’t die young, we lose dozens of musicians each year. Last year saw the passing of greats like B.B. King, Lemmy Kilmister, Scott Weiland, Alan Toussaint, Cory Wells, and about 60-something others. Each year, we can be sure that the “In Memoriam” reel at all the awards shows won’t be too short. Death happens.

Yet, when they seemingly happen one right after another we’re left wondering just what’s wrong with the world. Music gives our frayed world some sense of sanity. As we lose those who give us music, our world feels a little less assembled. Critical pieces are missing. Sure, we still have the recordings and are thankful for them, but knowing the people who gave us those recordings are gone, that there will be no new albums or concerts coming, creates an abscess we don’t know how to fill.

So, here we go with another Tuesday emersed in memories. Glenn Frey left us more than enough to fill the day and enjoy every minute. We are thankful for everything he gave us.

But seriously, musicians need to take a break from dying for a while. Please.

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PotD  /  Social Commentary
When The Fairy Tale Ends
January 17, 2016
charles i. letbetter - when the fairy tale ends

Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.—Alexandre Dumas

 

charles i. letbetter - when the fairy tale ends

Not every day is a good one, nor should we ever expect them to be.

One of my dear friends, Jane, whose birthday I missed yesterday and who writes a most wonderful blog, frequently reminds her students that the versions of fairy tales they see presented by Disney and the like are not true. When Hans Christian Anderson wrote The Little Mermaid, he justifiably kills his title character at the end; that’s right, the little mermaid dies. In the original telling of Cinderella, the evil stepsisters have their eyes plucked out. The tales penned by the brothers Grimm were bloody, vicious and violent. Why? Because such stories were meant to be cautionary tales, warnings against dangerous, self-centered, and inappropriate behavior. Life is not fair, the stories warn, and happily ever after is a myth.

This week has been a painful reminder of just how unhappy life can be. People we have admired, who have entertained us, who have sacrificed for us, who saved our lives, have passed on. Not just one or two people, as we are rather accustomed to hearing, but several people of some noteworthiness, have left us. Here’s a partial list, in case you weren’t paying attention:

  • David Bowie, sing, actor, and creator of worlds
  • Ernest Yazhe, the last of the WWII Navajo Code Talkers
  • Noreen Corcoran, an actress best known for her role in the television series Bachelor Father
  • Alan Rickman, versatile actor of innumerable memorable roles
  • Dan Haggerty, actor best known for his role on the television series Grizzly Adams
  • Andrew Smith, Butler University basketball hopeful
  • René Angélil, who discovered and then married singer Celine Dionne
  • Lawrence Phillips, promising NFL player caught up in violence
  • Brian Bedford, Tony award-winning actor known for his productions of Shakespeare
  • David Margulies, character actor best known for his role as the mayor in the original Ghostbusters movie
  • Otis Clay, Blues Hall of Fame member and Grammy nominee
  • Pete Huttlinger, Master guitarist known especially for his work with John Denver
  • Daniel Dionne, brother of Celine Dionne, died two days after her husband
  • Michael Galeota, actor best known for his role in the Disney Channel Original Series The Jersey

All those people, gone in the span of seven days. There were more, of course. Many died whose names are not so familiar to us. On Friday, a terrorist attack on a Burkina Faso hotel left at least 28 dead, including an American missionary. All around the world, in every hospital in every city, families gathered as loved ones, some old and suffering, some never really having a chance at life, moved on.

So much for a fairy tale with happy endings. This week seems to have gone out of its way to show us that there is no “happily ever after.” Even the lives that seem the most wonderful and glamorous, those who appear to have everything in the world going their way, still die.

What, then, shall we do when the fairy tale is over? When we have run out of tears to cry and are weary from mourning, how do we face this incredibly cruel world? Any good reader should know the answer to that question. When one fairy tale ends, you start another. Tragedy is the platform upon which the foundation of comedy arises. The ending of one story, or one set of stories, prepares us for the beginning of the next.

Yes, it is true that even the next story likely ends with its main character’s demise, but every story is worth the telling. There are lessons to be learned even in the most heart-breaking situations. We do not stop here. We keep going.

I have been distantly following the continuing saga of Cory and Joey Feek, as have millions of others. I’m not going to sit here anre pretend that I was ever a fan. I’m not big into contemporary country music, and until their lives took a tragic turn I’d not even heard of them. Now, it appears that Joey’s story is nearing its end.  When it does, headlines will focus on the love of a mother for her daughter, and a husband for his wife, and many will share in their grief. What’s important is that we realize that there is a story that goes onward. Their daughter, Indiana, is just beginning her story, even as her mother’s is ending.

While it is easy to become emeshed in the stories of others, however, we must remember that we are the ones writing our own stories. While our tales may be entertwined with those of others, we are ultimately the authors of our own fates. Even in circumstances where we might not have control of when or how our story ends, we still decide through the way we live and the decisions we make whether our fairy tale is tragic or happy.

2016 seems to be getting off to a very rough start, but perhaps this is this universe telling us that we need to focus more on the future, not the past; that we should focus less on the lives lost and more on those still living. Not that we don’t remember those who have died, but we realize that their passing is but the end of a chapter, not the whole book. The fairy tale is not over. There is so much more to be written and it is up to you to do the writing.

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Music
Piano Lessons From A Pro
January 15, 2016
charles i. letbetter - piano lessons

I started studying music at the age of five and a half. My older sister was taking piano lessons. When her teacher left our apartment, I would get up on the piano bench and start picking out the notes that were part of my sister’s lessons.—Marvin Hamlisch

charles i. letbetter - piano lessons from a pro

Latex Liberace (2010). Model: Carrie Pennington. Body latex: Jennifer Baxter

My story isn’t all that different from Mr. Hamlisch. I was four when I first started picking out hymns on the church piano. My parents waited until I was in first grade before they started letting me take real piano lessons from a real teacher. The piano seemed so very, very big compared to my little hands. When we started that first scale, it took forever for me to master the technique of tucking my thumb under my palm and reaching, stretching, for that fourth note. During that first lesson, I thought I might never be able to play real music because my five-year-old hands were just too small.

Perhaps I should have had Jon Baptiste as my teacher (ignoring the time warp factor given that Jon’s half my age). The bandleader for the Late Show with Stephen Colbert has developed a highly instructional video that teaches anyone to play piano in “Nine Easy Steps.” While his approach may appear overly simplistic, when one stops and thinks about it, he’s actually quite accurate about the whole process. Let’s take a quick look at his nine steps.

  1. Identifying a piano.  This is more important than you might think. In this age of digital electronic everything, a lot of people look at a 33-note keyboard and still call it a piano. Nope. If you’re going to play, you need to be able to identify the real thing, to understand why and how it makes the sound that it does, and how it responds to your touch.
  2. Naming your instrument. Personalize what you’re doing. The pianist and the piano must become one in a very zen way, even if you’re not zen yourself or know anything about zen. The piano is to the pianist what a rifle is to a Marine. Just, uhm, don’t try jumping from a helicopter with a piano on your back.
  3. Caring for your piano. “The piano is not a toy.” That seemed like a rather silly statement when my mom said it because she was talking about an instrument that weighed more than our entire family and took four people just to move across the living room. The lesson is much more appropriate today when a number of the things that pass as pianos actually do look like a toy. And as he says in the video, wash your hands. Please. In college, there was nothing much worse than walking into a practice room and finding a piano with greasy keys. Ick.
  4. Know the notes. Too many people are intimidated by the notes. This really is unnecessary. Do you know the first eight letters of the alphabet? Good. You’re set. A-G is all you need. Well, that and knowing how they actually correspond with those symbols on the paper, but that’s really rather easy as well. This is not difficult. You got this! Piano lessons are easy!
  5. Bench work. Sure, Jon makes it sound silly in the video, but how one sits at the piano is a critical matter! I still shudder when I think of the number of times my teacher threatened to put a yardstick down my back if I didn’t stop slouching on the bench. Posture and position has everything to do with how well one plays.
  6. The pedals. This is where my early teachers differed from Jon’s approach. They used a more classical method wherein one was forbidden from touching the pedals at all! The reasoning is that prior to the advent of the Romantic period in the 19th century, pianos didn’t have sustain pedals at all. And yes, I do know what that middle pedal does, but I’m not telling. You can’t handle that level of information right now.
  7. Snack break! Practicing the piano can be exhausting! My general rule is to take some kind of a break, at least stand up and stretch, every thirty minutes. This is actually a good time to pull a few yoga moves because the body tends to tense up when you’re sitting there diligently working out a difficult passage. Do NOT eat at the piano, though, and if you do have a snack, wash your hands before touching the piano!
  8. The Triangle Offense.  You think Jon is being silly here, but he’s not. If you want to master the piano, you gotta have a plan with a defined strategy for how to score. A good teacher communicates that strategy and explains why it is important. Otherwise, lessons can seem disjointed and all that stuff about theory and ear training gets lost.
  9. Let’s play piano! Jon might have over-simplified this step just a tiny bit. Still, it’s important that one not be afraid to sit down and play. Unless you’re a child prodigy, don’t necessarily expect dramatic results overnight. You’re going to spend a lot of time practicing and the older you are the more practice it may take. You’re probably going to take a lot of piano lessons. Still, you don’t get any better if you’re not playing at all. So sit down with your Bastien or Thompson method books and play that first lesson like a pro!

See, piano lessons really aren’t that difficult at all! You can learn to play the piano. Why not start this weekend? If you didn’t get all that, here’s Jon’s video to help explain.

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Fashion  /  Music
Ciara & The Double Standard
January 12, 2016
charles i. letbetter - Ciara & the double standard

You Can Create Your Own Life Story With The Things You Say, So When You Speak, Say Good Things.— Ciara

 

charles i. letbetter - Ciara & the Double Standard

Spin Me (2012). Model: Angela Denton

There was, apparently, a football game last night. Apparently, Grammy award-winning artist Ciara sang the national anthem. Apparently, the only thing some people noticed was her dress.

This is one of those times when a portion of American society is being so incredibly stupid that I wish I could reach out and give them all a collective slap right across the face. Apparently, not everyone has gotten it through their heads that shaming women for having breasts isn’t cool; in fact, it is a very disgusting habit that demonstrates severe ignorance and perpetuates the kind of culture wherein rape is always the woman’s fault. Stop. This type of behavior is not acceptable in contemporary society.

Just how offensive is this dress Ciara wore? Take a look at this gorgeous gown for yourself:

charles i. letbetter - Ciara & The Double Standard

Getty Images

How in the world some people dared to call this nude is beyond me. Do they have x-ray vision or something? The trolls hit Twitter so fast it was infuriating. Making matters worse, they were led by former ESPN analyst Bonnie Bernstein who should know better than to make a statement as offensive as this:

That was all the cue Twitter trolls needed. Within seconds, the pile on became heavy and increasingly ignorant. The diatribe continued even after the game was over, as though, somehow, Ciara wearing this dress was going to bring about the fall of civilization. Quite to the contrary, it is such narrow-minded, sexist opinions that are more likely to be our undoing.

What’s even more glaring, though, is the double standard such outrage presents. While, apparently, it’s okay to give Ciara grief over wearing such a wonderful gown (I mean, come on, the arch of that cape is perfect), no one says a damn thing about college students running around the field looking like this:

charles i. letbetter - Ciara & the Double Standard.

I wonder if the University of Alabama offers a degree in Objectifying Women or if it’s just an extra-curricular pastime on campus?

Quite honestly, it shouldn’t matter one bit if Ciara opted to walk out onto that field bare-ass naked; that would still be no just cause for attempting to shame her. We, as a nation and as a society, need to get the hell over this bad habit and realize the long-term harm such attitudes do to women, to the violence this attitude perpetuates.

Whoever dressed Ciara for this occasion should be congratulated on choosing a gown that was beautiful, flattering, and looked spectacular under the stadium lights.

Meanwhile, I guess I’m the only one who noticed the 0 in the 2016, which was a significant part of the game’s marketing, looked a bit too much like a vagina. And if you still want to really be upset by something, consider the fact that Coldplay is doing the Super Bowl halftime. Now that is offensive.

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Music
David Bowie, One More Time
January 11, 2016
charles i. letbetter - david bowie one more time

The truth is of course is that there is no journey. We are arriving and departing all at the same time.—David Bowie

 

charles i. letbetter - david bowie one more time

I was eight years old. The music teacher in our school, whom we only saw once a week, wore a young, pretty face though her name didn’t stay with me past the end of the year. I was naive about the world of music, but curious. She was determined to teach us from a contemporary perspective. So, we’re sitting in her classroom one Thursday, with the lights off for some reason, and she puts on a brand new album she had just purchased. The album was Space Oddity. She mispronounced “Bowie.” The rest of the semester, though, we all used the phrase, “Ground control to Major Tom” as often as we possibly could, even when it made no sense.

This past Wednesday, January 6,  received an email notice that David Bowie had released a new album, his 29th, called Blackstar. Other concerns were drumming my head at the moment so I made a note to listen to the album later and went on about my business. I find myself now regretting that decision if for no other reason than to have not experienced it first in a posthumous sense.

Perhaps I shouldn’t look at Facebook before I get out of bed in the morning, but I did today. There was only one theme throughout my newsfeed and I didn’t like what it was saying. Enough that this is a Monday and that temperatures are so horribly cold. Enough that the draft from the window left my old bones aching, not wanting to move. Seeing the news that David Bowie died was like being stabbed through the heart with a giant icicle that chilled to my soul. I’d heard that Bowie had been fighting cancer, but I wasn’t expecting this. Not right now.

Get dressed, shove everyone else out the door for the day, I search for and find that damn email with the link to the album. I click. I listen. I cry.

Blackstar is, much like Bowie’s life, full of improvisation. The title track is just short of being ten minutes long and fuses together two very disparate melody lines using some of the most complicated and beautiful jazz riffs ever devised. I will not be surprised if, at some point in the future, someone refers to this simply as his jazz album, because what Bowie does here is, once again, completely different from the 28 previous albums in his discography. Danny McCaslin’s searing saxophone chases Bowie’s vocals to the stars and back as though his very life depends upon it. Rather than singing in isolation, as vocals are most often done in contemporary studios, Bowie stood in the middle of McCaslin’s band, recording every track live. One can feel the interaction between them, even on pieces he’s done before, such as Sue (Or In a Season of Crime).

If I were reviewing this album under different circumstances, I would talk in esoteric terms about transitions and phases and how that, once again, David Bowie had managed to not merely remain contemporary, but a couple of steps ahead of contemporary. Blackstar leads us in a new direction today just as surely as Space Oddity did in 1969. Such is the legacy of the artist, mapping out where we expected him to go, then showing us a very different and unexpected way of getting there.

As I sat here listening, I read through a few hundred different memories that fans and other musicians had of Bowie. Many mention The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust (1972) and nearly everyone of a certain younger generation mentions Labyrinth in some form. There are articles about his impact on fashion and how his showmanship changed what we expected from a live performance.

What I find missing from all those tributes, however, are two pieces where Bowie stepped totally out of the character of a rock star. One came in 1977 when the ultra-hip, gender-bending rock star was asked to sing The Little Drummer Boy with legendary crooner Bing Crosby for a television Christmas special. Bowie didn’t want to do the song. He hated the song. So, as writer Buz Kohan later told PBS, he (Kohan) and partner Larry Grossman came up with the now famous counter melody for Bowie to sing. The result was an instant holiday classic that you almost certainly hear 20,000 times each December.

The second, also recorded in December of 1977, was when RCA convinced the singer to narrate Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra. Allegedly, Bowie was RCA’s third choice, with actors Peter Ustinov and Alec Guinness having both turned down the opportunity. Bowie said he did the album as a Christmas present for his son, Duncan, who was then seven years old. The timbre and phrasing Bowie gives to the piece is, like everything else he did, quite unique and different than anything Ustinov or Guinness might have done and it is his version I chose to play for my boys when they were of sufficient age.

He was married to the incredible supermodel Iman. He had children, a boy, Duncan, and a girl, Alexandria, who used their father’s more common surname, Jones. His most recent work was a musical, Lazarus, which is currently in an Off-Broadway run at New York Theater Workshop on East 46th street, starring Michael C. Hall. The musical was originally scheduled to run through January 20, but I wonder now if perhaps the engagement might be extended. That would be nice, since the initial run sold out almost the moment it was announced.

The Internet has exploded this morning with stories and articles. Many will be longer and full of greater insight than mine, but I could not let this pass without comment. Bowie was so much more than any one album or performance, or even all of them put together. I find it very fitting that the last track on Blackstar is titled, I Can’t Give Everything Away, a song that starts out sounding familiar, like the Bowie we think we knew, then navigates itself into something very different. Perhaps this was his way of saying goodbye. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to show there is still more than we can imagine.

Ziggy Stardust has left the planet. Godspeed, Mr. Jones. You are already well missed.

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Music  /  PotD  /  Social Commentary
Primal Scream Friday
January 8, 2016
charles i. letbetter - primal scream friday

All the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting.—George Orwell

charles i. letbetter - primal scream friday

Go ahead, just let it all out

Just to be very clear, we’re not talking this morning about Primal Scream the movie, nor Primal Scream the Scottish band. I will reference the album of the same name by the late trumpeter and bandleader Maynard Ferguson, but central to my premise this cold, wet, weary Friday morning is the psychotherapy method developed by Dr. Arthur Janov. Dr. Janov’s theory is that, from the very moment we are born, we begin repressing traumatic events in our lives, sealing them away from memory. Who remembers the actual birth experience, for example? None of us, of course. Neither do we experience the trauma of thinking that our parents have left us when actually they’ve only gone into the other room. Janov’s practice is to help us deal with those traumas, which he is sure is responsible for all our depression and anxiety, by bringing back those painful memories and then quite literally screaming at them.

I’m guessing Dr. Janov has trouble keeping neighbors.

While I’m not going to vouch for the efficacy of Dr. Janov’s methods, I do think it is valuable for us to occasionally list the things that are upsetting us, write them down perhaps, and then give them, collectively, a giant middle finger. With social media having become so prevalent in most our lives, we are now inundated with more information than ever, and a lot of that information is something less than positive. Our response tends to fall in the direction of two extremes: we either bitch and gripe about everything, constantly, trolling comments and insulting people we don’t know; or attempting to ignore everything in the hopes it will all go away. Neither of those approaches are exactly healthy.

So, what we’re going to do this morning is list the five things from this week that have pissed me off the most and then turn on the title track from Maynard Ferguson’s 1976 album and scream at them, letting the music provide a counter-weight to our bellowing. One big primal scream. Once we are done, we set those issues aside and try to not mess with them again. Feel free to join me. Create your own list. Let’s move into the weekend emotionally free of the frustrations that beset us. Ready? Here we go:

  • Gun reform. I fail to understand why anyone with a sound mind objects to background checks for deadly weapons and I certainly don’t see where anyone gets off claiming that such precautions somehow interfere with their right to keep and bear arms. Remember, the Constitution only gives that right in order to maintain “a well-regulated militia,” and part of being well-regulated almost certainly means taking steps to ensure that the wrong people aren’t getting their hands on guns. What’s even more infuriating is the degree to which the GOP has completely acquiesced to the National Rifle Association on the topic, despite the fact that the United States continues to have more handgun related deaths, by far, than any other industrialized nation in the world.  The argument is ridiculous to the point of insanity and really makes me want to scream.
  • Protests in Burns, Oregon. A week ago, a group of gun-toting cry babies led by the seriously delirious Ammon Bundy took over a federal wildlife refuge to protest something that didn’t deserve to be protested in the first place. This has to be one of the worst-planned sieges ever. While the group claims they are planning to occupy the little building just outside Burns for several years, they failed to bring enough food. By Monday, they were asking for people to send them snacks. That they’ve not been set upon by angry birders or scalped by native Paiute, who actually have a legitimate claim to their ancestral land, is actually disappointing.  Were these idiots not a bunch of white guys, they would have been on the receiving end of a massive military operation already. The government has cut off power and water to the facility and is waiting them out. Meanwhile, the world laughs.
  • The global economy. Uhm, hello? Haven’t we been here before? The fact that stock trading in China had to be halted twice  this week and is, once again today, taking another roller coaster ride sets off similar sell-offs in both the European and US markets that should have everyone worried. In fact, if you’re not at least a little bit scared you’re crazy. Super-investor George Soros says the situation resembles the 2008 crisis, and this time around we don’t have a Congress that’s willing to do anything about the situation. This could end up very, very bad for the entire world, and it could happen before Spring gets here.
  • Worsening immigration situation. There hasn’t been a worse time to be an immigrant since World War II. The influx of refugees across Europe continues to grow and as more arrive in the United States, where they should be welcome and where we have plenty of resources to help, our response continues to be about as wrong as possible. Compounding matters, there is yet another article in this morning’s New York Times regarding the plight of families fleeing escalating violence in Central America. I wonder if an uprising of native tribes would be sufficient to remind Americans that this entire country is founded upon immigration, taking in those who were not wanted nor welcome elsewhere. We need to get over our selfishness and put an end to this problem.
  • Earthquakes in Oklahoma. 70. That is how many earthquakes have hit the state of Oklahoma in the past week. Fortunately, none of them have been terribly large. The largest this week registered 4.8 on the Richter scale, which typically is enough to rattle windows and upset cattle in the area, but seldom causes any substantial damage. The problem is that these earthquakes appear to be the result of fracking across the state and Oklahoma Governor Mary Fallin, who is in line to be one of the worst governors in the country and certainly Oklahoma’s worst since David Hall in the 1970s, refuses to do anything to reign in the controversial activity pending further study. The unanswerable question is at what point these quakes stop being a nuisance and turn into something critical. We’ve seen the strength of the quakes grow from the 2.6 to 3.8 range to frequently over 4.0 in the past year. This week’s 4.8 quake comes frightening close to the point at which significant property damage begins to occur. Gov. Fallin needs to halt all fracking activity in the state immediately, but she’s far too stubborn and closed-minded to bother.

There’s my list. How’s yours? Once we get these out of our system, the deal is that we don’t keep revisiting them over and over. We let them go in one long, loud, guttural primal scream that comes up from out gut and frightens all animals into hiding. To prevent alarming the neighbors, I strongly suggest clicking the link below and turning up the volume on your computer or mobile device as loud as possible before you begin your primal scream. That way, people will just think you’re trying to sing along to a song that has no words and leave you alone the rest of the day.

Now, go and enjoy your weekend.

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Music
Andra Day: Voice Of The Year?
January 7, 2016
charles i. letbetter - andra day

Andra Day

photo courtesy andraday.com

I love being right, who doesn’t, but it is especially gratifying when it happens quickly so that I’m not having to link to a months-old article reminding everyone that I called something correctly. In this case, had I bothered to actually scratch beneath the surface of the handful of songs I listened to, I might have known that Andra Day was going to be on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert last night. When we wrote our article on new artists to watch, though, I was primarily interested in the music and not too concerned about other details. So, it was a wonderful surprise to see Ms. Day on the Late Show schedule for this week, and even more delightful to listen to her performance.

Live music on television doesn’t always work, and the Late Show, in particular, has had some issues with production values that, at times, were nothing short of horrid. They especially seem to have difficulty finding a good balance when faced with a particularly large or especially loud band. More than once I’ve turned off a performance because the cacophony was more than my ears could handle. So, there was a little trepidation on my part going into Ms. Day’s performance. I was really hoping the sound engineers at CBS wouldn’t mangle the performance.

While the sound quality still leaves a lot to be desired, the broadcast did a good job of highlighting Ms. Day’s incredible voice. Paired only with house band leader Jon Batiste and a couple of backup singers, Andra’s unique, piercing, soulful voice shone as she performed Rise Up from her new album, Cheers To The Fall. Hers is one of those voices that carries with it all the emotions of life. She sings, you feel all the way down to your bones. There’s no beating around the bush, no easing carefully into a note; Andra treats each phrase as though it were vital to the continuation of life itself and breathes into her audience a sense of spirit that’s not unlike going to church.

Perhaps it is too early to declare hers the voice of the year, but it is going to take someone mighty powerful to outshine the light Andra Day is shining. Take a listen to last night’s performance below, then jump out to her website or iTunes and buy the whole album.  Pour yourself a glass of scotch, sit back, and let the feelings wash over you. Andra Day is one artist I’m extremely happy to see climbing toward success.

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PotD
Back To Work We Go
January 4, 2016
charles i. letbetter - back to work we go

I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process.—Vincent Van Gogh

 

charles i. letbetter - back to work

Work. Ugh. Welcome to the first Monday of 2016, the day we bid a fond farewell to some of our readers who joined us over the break but must now leave us in favor of gainful employment that frowns upon them spending time with pleasures such as this. It’s a whopping 27 degrees in Indianapolis as I write this and scattered snow showers across the city are threatening to make a mess of everyone’s first commute of the year. We’re getting off to such a great start, aren’t we?

Coffee. Thankfully, we’ve acquired a fair amount of that deliciously roasted bean over the past month. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but I’m not complaining and it’s coming in especially handy this morning. Kat and I both crashed early last night, but the down side of that is we were up earlier than usual. Work without coffee would be inhumane, in my opinion. I’m fortunate to have never been in a situation where I couldn’t have a cup nearby. I know not everyone can, though, and for those people I truly feel sorry.

I also feel sorry for school teachers who are returning to the classroom this morning. I remember the trepidation Mother always felt when returning after the holiday break. Teachers don’t really get time off. When they’re not at school, they’re doing other adult things such as entertaining family which requires cleaning house and catching up on the piles of laundry that have been ignored all semester. The holidays were never that much of a mental break and today teachers get to welcome back all those darling little demons who have been running around wild the past two weeks. Teachers should get hazardous duty pay the first three days of this week. Be sure they’ll earn it.

Getting back to work after such a long period is never easy. Even if one was technically at work through the whole month of December, the atmosphere following Thanksgiving is different than the other eleven months. Despite the stress of working to complete year-end goals, there is still a sense of frivolity and an absence of the serious tones that dominate the rest of the year. At least, for most people that is the case. For those whose companies completely shuttered on December 31, you have our sympathies.

Here, too, we’re getting back to our normal schedule with some new additions. In case you’ve not already noticed, we’re doing more than just a single post each day. We’re keeping a very close eye on events in fashion, advertising, and music. We’ve only done one extra article per day over the weekend, and for weekends and holidays that will be the new norm. During the week, though, we’ll add articles as we feel appropriate. Fashion is barreling toward February’s Ready-To-Wear runway season, advertising’s eyes are on the Super Bowl ads, and there’s a long list of artists ready to release new albums in the first quarter. We’re watching it all and will comment where we feel we have something valuable to add to the conversation.

So, back to work we go. Bundle up, buckle in, and enjoy the ride!

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Music
New Artists Watch
January 3, 2016
charles i. letbetter - new artists watch

I hate to see artists who are real safe. I love to see artists swing for the fences sometimes.—Lee Ann Womack

charles i. letbetter - new artists watch

Latex Liberace. Model: Carrie Pennington. Body art by Jennifer Baxter.

Listening to new music and new artists can be very fulfilling. At the same time, it can be extremely frustrating, especially when an artist who sounds really good on one song doesn’t follow with an equally impressive tone on their subsequent material. I’m not a huge fan of one-hit wonders or mentioning an artist’s name and finding no one else has a clue who I’m talking about.

By adding music to our discussion and photos here, we are treading into somewhat dangerous territory. People tend to be very adamant about who they like and who they don’t. From the very outset, I want to be clear that just because we like an artist’s music doesn’t mean we endorse them as people or the opinions they might later express that prove to be offensive. If there’s anything we have learned the past couple of years it is that the bigger the hero the more people want to see them fall. I don’t understand that mentality, but I can’t keep it from happening. We’re not doing deep background checks here.

Instead, what we’re offering are some gentle suggestions, artists whose music causes me to stop what I’m doing and listen. Yes, we are cheating a bit. I rely on what new artists Spotify throws at me. I understand the limitations of using that single source, but no one is sending me demos and I don’t have time to troll YouTube. A good song is a good song, though, and a good artist transcends the media source. We’ll offer a few that we like and let you take it from there.

To start off the year, let’s talk about a few artists who caught our attention last year and we’re hoping continue to impress.

Saint Raymond

Saint Raymond, aka Callum Burrows, represents yet another instance where what’s big in the UK or Europe has difficulty “jumping the pond” to the US market. For British listeners, Saint Raymond is hardly a new name, having been showing up on charts in the UK for a couple of years now. American radio has yet to catch on, though, and US listeners are being cheated out of Burrows’ smooth voice. The pop rock sound isn’t too heavy and not over-produced. Give it a try.

Conrad Sewell

I’m a sucker for a good, bare piano accompaniment because of the way it lets a vocalist shine. That is why I’m sharing Australian artist Conrad Sewell’s second single and not his first. Granted, the first one, Hold Me Up, did extremely well and is a great song, but Start Again really lets his voice shine through. What is it with all these young guys and really high voice ranges, though? Adam Levine might want to be careful. Guys like Sewell could end up replacing him.

Andra Day

My ears can spot a church-trained voice a mile away and I was smitten with Ms. Day’s sound before she made it to the second word of the song. She has a classic jazz/soul sound that takes one from a smokey Saturday night right on into the emotional confession of Sunday morning as effortlessly as a well-aged brandy. I can’t wait to hear a lot more from this voice. I’m linking you to Rise Up, but you’ll want to listen to Forever Mine as well. She’s touring this year and will be in Indianapolis in June.

Jr Jr

The guys in Jr Jr aren’t exactly new. Joshua Epstein and Daniel Zott have been making music together since 2009. If you heard of them, though, it was under the name Dale Earnhardt, Jr., borrowed with permission and blessing from the NASCAR driver of the same name. One can see where that might have confused a few people. I’ve heard the driver try to sing; it wasn’t pretty. So, they’ve re-branded as Jr Jr and hopefully that will be the boost they need to push heavily into the mainstream. If you liked the Beach Boys, you’ll love these guys. Their harmonies are tight. Take a listen.

Jess Glynne

Don’t tell me the folks at Atlantic Records weren’t thinking about Adele and Sam Smith when they signed Jess Glynne. The comparisons are inevitable. The British singer’s voice is strong, soulful, and full of emotion. With a Grammy already in her pocket for last year’s Best Dance Song, her new single, Hold My Hand, is driving, fun, and as they used to say on American Bandstand, “very easy to dance to.” The biggest challenge she faces is that Adele is dominating the market so strongly that Glynne’s similar sounding tone may not stand out well enough for people to notice. Listen, though. You’ll be impressed.

Will any of these artists list 2016 as their big breakout year? We’ll see. I definitely look forward to hearing more from all of them.

 

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Art  /  Music  /  pop culture  /  PotD
5 Memories From Last Summer
November 23, 2015
charles i. letbetter - 5 Things About Last Summer

We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.—Gary Zukav

charles i. letbetter - 5 things to remember about last summer

Technically, this isn’t the best photo I’ve ever taken, even though it’s one of my favorites. Summer photos are usually brighter and the fact that the whole photo is set on a diagonal slant is a bit unnerving to the eyes. The location had limitations that prevented me from shooting from a better position, though, and working with a diagonal frame was the only way to capture the reflection with the equipment I had available.

I don’t know how things are where you live, but we’re shivering in our shoes this morning with a wind chill of 20° F. I know many of us in the North had our first significant snowfall this weekend and while some find that exciting, most of us are less than thrilled. Where did that extended summer go? Summer is always full of memories, and this one was no exception, so let’s take a look at five things from this summer that we really shouldn’t forget.

No5US Wins Women’s FIFA World Cup
Did we see that coming? No, not really. We wanted it to happen, but when it comes to FIFA level play, the US just hasn’t had the best luck in the past. Routing Japan 5-2 was totally unexpected unless one happens to be a die-hard supporter of the team. This was one of the best feel-good moments of the summer.

No4Misty Copeland Promoted to Principal Ballerina at American Ballet Theater
This just doesn’t happen; black women don’t become principals in American ballet. One of the longest-standing bastions of racist tradition in the US fell with a thundering crash when Misty Copeland was promoted to Principal Ballerina this past June. Her promotion not only opens the door of diversity in American ballet but gives hope to millions of little girls in pink tights and toe shoes all across the country. Here’s a sample.

No3Inside Out Hit Theaters
There were lots of movies that had a bigger box office this summer, but none will have a larger long-term effect than this animated movie from Disney/Pixar that, more than anything, helps kids better understand what emotions are and the importance of feelings. The price of a movie ticket and popcorn is likely the cheapest source of therapy this generation will ever experience.

No2Shut Up And Dance was the feel-good song of the summer
Again, it wasn’t the biggest seller of the summer, but Walk The Moon’s catching song and its unusual video was the one song that brought multiple generations onto the dance floor to strut their stuff. My youngest son introduced me to the song and it’s been on my playlists ever since. Even now, the song is still charting.

No1Spending Time With Family
This is why we love summer; those moments in the park, or the pool, or the lake, or hiking, or whatever brings your family together. While school is in session, everyone is going their own direction with a dozen different activities, but summer gives us time to do things together, things we’ll remember the rest of our lives. We went traveled, spent time with extended family, and cooked food outside over fire. There are so many pictures I’m still not done editing them all. This is how summer should be.

I can’t keep the cold from coming any more than I can keep my old bones from hurting, but we can keep the memories of summer alive and maybe, just maybe, that will help keep us warm on the inside a little bit longer.

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When The Music Dies
November 19, 2015
charles i. letbetter - when music dies

To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life miracle to miracle.—Arthur Rubinstein

charles i. letbetter - when music dies

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]”Do you still play?”

Something in me dies a little every time I’m asked that question. Music was such an overwhelming part of my life for the first 26 years. To no be playing, or conducting, or doing something creative in the field seems like a giant disappointment to myself, my parents, and all the teachers who suffered myriad lessons where I had failed to practice sufficiently. The adult I am now is less than pleased with the child I was then.

I miss making music outside of myself. I miss being part of an organization and having talented individuals with which to work, even amateurs. I miss the feeling of excitement when everything comes together in a performance and sends chills up my spine. Memories of the intensity of those moments make me glad that I had them, but wonder if I could still re-create that feeling now after being away for so long. With continued, every-day immersion in the music comes a sensitivity to the subtleties; one hears things in the 453rd listening that one did not hear before. Certainly, any sense of precision I once had would be gone now.

Questions linger in my mind as to whether I could ever return to a shadow of the musician I once imagined myself to be. For too many years, schedules that created 18- to 22-hour days prevented me from even being able to touch a piano. The day I finally sold the instrument at which I had sat through my entire childhood was painful, but not because I was losing anything that at that point was an integral part of my life. Rather, it was like the passing of a once-dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Mastery of music does not happen in a casual come-and-go relationship; either one is fully committed or one is merely a dabbler.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Kat used the children as an excuse for buying a keyboard a couple of years ago. We immediately set it up right next to my desk so that I could simply turn and play a few bars as the mood struck. Such an arrangement proved impractical for space as small as ours, though, and now it sits in the studio, out of sight. I typically wait until everyone is gone before slipping in there and playing for a few minutes. Each time I do, I am painfully reminded of how much skill and dexterity I’ve lost. My hands hurt as I try to execute a simple two-octave scale. Fingers fumble over keys that they once knew intimately.

Not that music is totally absent from my life, mind you. My playlists stretch on for hours and hours; some of them could fill an entire day without any hint of repetition, but I doubt such a thing is all that unusual. My opinions and criticism of music is still just as strong as ever, also.  Some may remember earlier this year when a video went viral of Denver quarterback Peyton Manning “conducting” the Denver Symphony in an incredibly weak and pathetic rendition of the University of Tennessee’s fight song, “Rocky Top.” What ruined the video for me was that Manning was holding the baton backward. How did no one correct such an obvious error?

If, as Rubenstein suggests, music is a miracle, then I have let that miracle quite literally slip through my fingers. I keep telling myself that one of these days I’ll have sufficient time and discipline to bring back the Beethoven and the Debussy, perhaps to even find a small group of which I might be a part, but we know that won’t actually happen. The music that once dominated my life has died. Perhaps it is time to let it rest in peace.[/one_half_last]

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Everybody Has The Blues
October 17, 2015
charles i. letbetter - Everybody Has The Blues

charles i. letbetter - everybody has the blues

Most Refined (2009). Model: Samantha Caster

Everything comes out in blues music: joy, pain, struggle. Blues is affirmation with absolute elegance. It’s about a man and a woman. So the pain and the struggle in the blues is that universal pain that comes from having your heart broken. Most blues songs are not about social statements.—Wynton Marsalis

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Everybody has the Blues. I have the Blues right now because the kids are already awake and making way too much noise, and because this is the end of Blues week. I like next week’s theme of classic nudes, but this week has been rather special and I’m sorry to see it come to an end. My friends have the Blues, one from not sleeping well for several nights, another remembering, and feeling, the passing of a friend on this date some years ago. Blues happens to everyone, everywhere, all the time. There is not a day, nor even a moment that passes but what someone has the Blues.

I don’t think the Blues are something to be avoided, though. If anything, I think the Blues should be embraced, welcomed, and given the time and emotion to be felt deeply. The only way one gets over the Blues is to feel them and then to let that feeling come out in some form. Creative people have an advantage there; they can write or sing or paint or draw their way through the Blues and end up with something beautiful. Some of the most wonderful works of art have come from letting the Blues take over the creative process. When we allow the Blues to be a natural part of our experience, they participate as the balance against which we measure our level of joy. Without the Blues, how would we know how happy we are?[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The music this week has been some of the best. One of the  reasons Blues music is so popular is that the emotions from which it springs are universal; one can identify with the music because one has felt the emotion for themselves. Blues music brings us together in our pain, or at the very least the remembrance of it. For example, as I get older I think of people who were part of my childhood, people whose names I can’t even remember now, and the song, “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind” plays on cue in my head. Or something happens that reminds me how much things have changed in my lifetime and the B.B. King/Bobby “Blue” Bland duet, “Funny How Time Slips Away” comes to mind.

“Everybody Has The Blues” seems like a fitting way to end the week. It doesn’t matter who we are, rich, poor, married, single, young, old, we all get the blues. The song, like today’s picture, is a little more refined than what we normally see from the Blues, with Ray’s orchestra and the smooth voice of Tony Bennet joining him.  Yet, there’s still that tone of melancholy in the bridge. There’s no escaping the Blues. They’re going to get you. Might as well accept them and go on. Enjoy the song.[/one_half_last]

 

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Music  /  PotD  /  Uncategorized
Got My Mojo Working
October 16, 2015
charles i. letbetter - I've got my mojo working

charles i. letbetter - got my mojo working

Portrait in Blue (2011). Model: Rebekkah Perigrin

I think I believe a little bit in the power of people to really cast a bad energy on you if they want to. If the bad mojo wants to come your way, look out.—Dileep Rao

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Maybe it’s just me, but I hear the word mojo and it’s almost impossible to not immediately think of Mike Meyers in the character of Austin Powers. Then I inevitably wonder whatever happened to Meyers and why he didn’t pursue the whole Austin Powers thing more aggressively while it was working for him. The only answer I can find is that he must have lost his mojo, too. That happens, it seems. Mojo has this ability to just get up and walk away whenever it damn well feels like it. Rather sucks when that happens.

Of course, not everyone has mojo to begin with. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a particularly strong mojo of any kind. If I did, it was when I was too young and stupid to recognize it and put it to work for me. Mojo seems to involve just a bit of arrogance on top of a healthy dose of self-confidence and there have been few times that my confidence has been sufficient to tip the scales in that direction. Although, now that I’m sitting here typing this, the times that I’ve been able to pull off large nude shoots almost certainly have required a bit of mojo working. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Mojo is such an elusive thing, though. I think most people don’t have mjo more often than they do have it. Maintaining mojo is hard work; it requires being at the top of your game, not letting your guard down, having everything together no matter what happens. How many people can realistically do that day in and day out? Sure, two or three days a week, maybe, and almost certainly a couple of times a month, but all day every day? I don’t think so. Not unless you’re someone supremely cool like Sir Ian McKellan or Patrick Stewart; they never seem to lose their mojo, at least not in public.

And then, like the song says, there are some people on whom no amount of mojo works. There’s nothing one can do when encountering such a person; they’re just immune to the stuff. And just because the mojo works on someone once doesn’t necessarily mean it will a second time. Perhaps there’s a little bit of deception in mojo, making ourselves out to be more than we are. Rebekkah had her mojo working the night we shot this portrait. Or maybe it was the wine. Maybe wine is mojo. Wait, scotch is mojo! Maybe. Enjoy the song.[/one_half_last]

 

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Baby Grand
October 15, 2015
charles i. letbetter - baby grand

charles i. letbetter - baby grand

Steal The Moment (2013). Model: Loren Hawk

Sometimes I can only groan, and suffer, and pour out my despair at the piano!—Frederic Chopin

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’ve never owned a baby grand. I’ve played countless numbers of them over the years, but for a variety of reasons I’ve never owned one and that makes me a bit sad. Not all pianos are created equal, you know. Even when they’re in tune there is a significant difference in the tone between a studio piano, which is what I had growing up, and a baby grand. Of course, when I was much, much younger I thought I’d have a twelve-foot Steinway sitting in the middle of my living room floor. Perhaps, had life taken a very different turn 30-plus years ago, that might have happened, but there’ve been many times when, moving logistics aside, twelve feet was longer than any one side of the living room. A baby grand is five-foot to five-feet, four-inches long, which fits in just about any room. I still don’t have one, though.

Still, no matter what size piano or keyboard one has, they make for incredible friends when one has the Blues. A baby grand is the perfect outlet for the widest range of emotion. Sometimes, one is quiet and contemplative, and a gentle touch on the keys produces a soft tone that is reflective and peaceful, full of thought. When one is sad, all it takes is shifting to a minor key and what would be tears fall into beautiful melancholy streams of emotion. Angry? The piano has been the outlet for my anger more times than I care to count; it can not only handle the power of the emotion but sends it back with a musical force that is satisfying.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The problem with relying on a baby grand as one’s emotional outlet is that often one feels those emotions most deeply and strongly in the middle of the night. Timing tends to be an issue for anyone not actually playing the piano. No matter how skillful the playing or how beautiful the song, people tend to not be too terribly receptive when it jars them from their sleep at 3:00 AM. I’ve even had one neighbor threaten violence over what he considered to be the inappropriate timing of my playing. During the quiet moments of the night, even the softest tones are too much for most people.

Perhaps it is better, from a relationship perspective, to put one’s worries into a good book, divert the energy toward more physical pleasures, or at least some activity that doesn’t wake the entire neighborhood. I can tell you right now, though, even taking pictures of beautiful women, such as today’s photo, as much as I love doing it, is not as emotionally satisfying as sitting down and becoming one with a baby grand. Nothing else responds to the Blues in quite the same way, personally, deeply, as though it were a part of your body, as does a baby grand. There is no better therapy.

Ray understood. Enjoy the music. [/one_half_last]

 

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What Kind Of Woman Is This?
October 14, 2015
charles i. letbetter - what kind of woman is this?

charles i. letbetter - what kind of woman is this

Blue All Over (2015)

Being jealous of a beautiful woman is not going to make you more beautiful.—Zsa Zsa Gabor

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’m going to go off script this morning, because, with a title like What Kind Of Woman Is This? I feel the need to do some explaining. We tend to look at the Blues as a way of working out something challenging to us. No, not always. There are times when all it takes is the presence of a beautiful woman. Here are the lyrics:

The gates of Heaven must be open
I think I saw an angel just walk by
Hey, the gates of heaven must be open
I think I saw an angel just walk by

I heard a blind man screamin’, say
Now there goes a sight for my sore eyes
There goes a sight for my sore eyes
Now there goes a sight for my sore eyes
What kind of woman is this?

You should be locked up, pretty girl
In my bedroom with me
Hey, you should be locked up, pretty girl
In my bedroom with me

So we can do the same thing that Adam
Did under that old apple tree
What he did under that apple tree
What he did under that apple tree

Well, well, well, well, well, well
Choke out
Here I come again

There’s always some good lookin’ girls
Hangin’ ’round this famous place
Well, hey, there’s always some good lookin’ girls
Hangin’ round this famous place, talkin’ bout legends now

Aww, but this particular one
Looked like somethin’ from outer space
She looked like somethin’ from outer space

What kind of woman is this?
Hmm, what kind of woman is this?
What kind of woman is this?
Ooh, what kind of woman is this?

Look at that, she shakes all over when she walk
She made a blind man see
Made a dumb man talk
What kind of woman is this?
Hmm, shucks

[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]What  Kind of Woman is This? is the only original song on Buddy Guy’s 2005 album, Bring ’em In. That would mean he was 68- or 69-years-old when he wrote the song. Considering the fact that it really is not much more than one long pick-up line, one might think that the Blues comes from knowing he’s not going to be the one to get her. I would have to challenge that, though. Blues musicians seem to get better with age, like so many other things, and I’ve not seen one yet that didn’t have groupies waiting at the stage door.

One might also question whether the song’s title is sexist, patronizing, objectifying, or possibly even misogynistic. I think the song is actually more appreciative than anything. We’ve all been in that crowded room when a particular woman walks in and turns every head in the place. Maybe she’s wildly attractive, or maybe she’s a strong, confident woman who doesn’t put up with the bullshit she gets from men; perhaps she’s both.

So, where do the Blues come in? What’s the cause for the emotion? Can there be such a thing as a happy Blues song? Yes, there are happy Blues songs, and in some aspects this may be one of them. But what I think Guy is talking about is a distraction. Perhaps the woman’s presence was unexpected. Maybe she sat a little too close to the stage. One thing for sure is that everyone in the room, including the blind man, if more interested in the woman than in the person on the stage. Any musician will tell you, a distraction that compete’s with your performance is plenty of reason to sing the Blues.

Here’s to the women who can distract whatever is going on in any room, and here’s to the musicians who have to endure the distraction. May you both manage to keep your composure. Enjoy the song.

[/one_half_last]

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Dust My Broom
October 13, 2015
charles i. letbetter - dust my broom

charles i. letbetter - dust my broom

INTENSITY (2012). Model: Cole Prosper

You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lines. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.—Maya Angelou

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There comes a time, or two, or more, when one has to look at their life, their circumstances, and maybe even the people in their lives, and decide to make some changes, or “dust my broom.” An exact etymology of the phrase was difficult to find, but it seems to go back quite ways, which seems to make sense. I can just imagine some poor woman of the 15th or 16th century stepping to the door of her humble little house and shaking out all the dirt the broom had picked up while being dragged across the floor. Dusting the broom was just a natural part of cleaning house. “Cleaning house” is a natural part of our lives as well.

We see people dust their brooms today when they prune their social media friends lists. We collect names because they make our numbers look good, but over time we realize those names and numbers are not only doing us no good, but may even be causing some of our problems. When we hit that realization, often in a fit of frustration, we clean house and dust our broom. I did that very thing back at the beginning of the year, culling over 1,000 names that were little more than numbers. Fewer than ten asked to be re-instated. Those numbers were obviously little more than dead weight.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]If one digs down and examines the phrase, we realize that dusting the broom is the final act of cleaning house. When cleaning house, you need the broom handy to get all the dust and muck and dead spider skeletons out of all the corners and from under all the furniture. You gather everything up in a pile, dump the bulk into the garbage, and then dust the broom. Get rid of the big stuff first, and then shake off the little stuff that wants to cling on and cause more trouble. Who knew there could be such deep, introspective meaning to a Blues song?

Tuesdays seem like they might be a good time to dust the broom. Monday delivers a lot of garbage and we tend to let that mess just accumulate and stack up. Time to get rid of it all. Sweep out the nonsense, tidy things up, and put everything back in order so you can get on with your week. Dusting your broom is an act of empowerment, you taking action to put your life back in balance, being done with yesterday’s dirt, and moving on. So grab that broom, shake the dust out, and then put on some blues. We’ll all feel better for having done so.[/one_half_last]

 

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They Call It Stormy Monday
October 12, 2015
charles i. letbetter - call it stormy monday

charles i. letbetter - Call It Stormy Monday

Solitude (2012).

I read in the newspapers they are going to have 30 minutes of intellectual stuff on television every Monday from 7:30 to 8. to educate America. They couldn’t educate America if they started at 6:30.—Groucho Marx

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I know, Monday. Erg. No one likes Monday because it means going back to work. And there’s the rub, how much of our lives do we spend hating one-seventh of our week? Any way you come at this, you end up with the blues. Monday means an end to the fun, an end to the play, an end to family time, an end to leisure. Who wants to give that up? Well, unless, of course, you’re an NFL player or something related where you work on Sunday. I suppose the Peyton Mannings of the world look forward to Monday as a chance to recuperate from Sunday. That would be another reason we’re jealous of the rich bastards, and another reason to have the blues.

Preachers typically like Monday, too. I know Poppa did. Mondays were his quiet day, or at least he tried to keep them as quiet as possible. He put everything he had into those two services on Sunday. Monday was for him. He’d get us kids and Mom off the school and then hit the coffee shop, or donut shop depending on where we were living. He’d sometimes hang out with other preachers, maybe go to lunch, and then take a nap before we all came busting through the door as noisily as possible, absolutely destroying his solitude. There are probably a lot of people who look at Monday as a relief, but doesn’t mean they don’t still sing the blues.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Actually, you realize we have unions, industrialization, and that whole 40-hour-work-week thing to blame for our attitude about Monday. Prior to that whole 40-hour thing, Monday was just another day. Sure, folks would take a pause on Sunday for church and such, but there wasn’t any difference between Monday and any other day of the week. There wasn’t such a thing as the weekend. There was no Friday night football. No Saturday afternoon football. No Sunday night football. Good god, how in the world did those poor people survive without football? No wonder they had short life spans.

Music gives Monday a bad rap, too. Rainy days and Mondays alls ways get me down, you know. Manic Monday. Blue Monday. Monday Monday. Blues great T-Bone Walker sings about Stormy Monday below the break. The thing about Monday music, though, is it actually seems to help one feel a little better about getting the day started, or surviving the whole thing. That’s what the blues does for you, gets out those negative emotions so you can feel better about yourself and get on with your week.

Although, Tuesday’s just as bad.[/one_half_last]

 

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Damn Right, I’ve Got The Blues
October 11, 2015
charles i. letbetter - damn right i've got the blues

charles i. letbetter - damn right i've got the blues

Feelin’ Blue (2012). Model: Aubrey Carr

The blues was like that problem child that you may have had in the family. You was a little bit ashamed to let anybody see him, but you loved him. You just didn’t know how other people would take it.—B. B. King

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I listen to a lot of music while I’m sitting here editing pictures. Walk in on me during one of these sessions and you’re likely to hear anything from The Gaither Vocal Band to Florence + The Machine. The playlist that I hit most often, though, is four and a half hours worth of the Blues. Everything from remastered Robert Johnson and B. B. King to Bonny Raitt and Aretha Franklin is on that list. The Blues get me through those sessions when I’m just not feeling it; when I’ve lost the emotional connection I might have had with a picture. One thing photographs have to do is make people feel, and if I’m not feeling anything chances are pretty high no one else will, either. The Blues gets me over that hurdle because the Blues are little more than pure emotion given some rhythm.

Contrary to popular belief, having the Blues doesn’t mean one is depressed. Depression is a serious mental illness. The Blues are just the realities of living and the challenge of living them. A Blues singer wails about what’s bothering them, whether it’s a lover that’s done them wrong, a boss that demands too much, a car that won’t run, or a leaky roof. Sing it out. Sing through what you feel. Put it out there, let it be what it is, and then move on with your life. A good Blues song doesn’t try to solve life’s problems, but unites us all in the fact that we all have the same issues, that we all survive, and we all keep right on going, because that’s what people do.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Musically, the Blues aren’t especially difficult to play. Take a smooth walking bass line and drop three, maybe four, chords over it, and then take that wherever you’d like to go. The Blues don’t require one to have a lot of musical skill or training, but simply that one has the ability to feel. Sure, there are some people who do it better than others, but it’s the emotion, not the music skill, that they bring to the song that makes the difference. The deeper one can feel and communicate that feeling, the better the song.

So, all this week, we’re going to have the blues. The pictures are all processed with a blue tone, using a variety of different processes. No two are processed alike. Then, we’re going to pair those pictures with some of my favorite blues songs, which I’ll include with each picture. The pictures don’t have any direct connection to the songs chosen, but our hope is that between the photograph and the music your day will be a little bit better.

What’s important in life is that we are not afraid to feel, and that we find positive and appropriate ways to communicate that feeling. We don’t need anyone else getting upset and picking up a gun, or taking out their frustration physically on another person. Sing it out. Even if you can’t carry a tune, you can still sing the Blues. We don’t mind. Go for it. Feel better. Enjoy the Blues.[/one_half_last]

 

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Art  /  PotD
Smelling of Flowers
August 25, 2015
charles i. letbetter - smells like flowers

charles i. letbetter - smelling like flowers

The Private Garden (2004)

Just because people throw it out and don’t have any use for it, doesn’t mean it’s garbage. ― Andy Warhol

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Flowers carry a lot of meaning and subtly hold a rather strong and dramatic place in art, literature, and song. Three books that immediately come to mind are The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Emmuska Orczy, which thrilled me as a teen, and the one book I read in high school that still makes me stop and thing: Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes. In all three the flowers are highly symbolic, subtle undertones that hold deeper meaning than one might suspect.

Musically, flowers are used to invoke a specific imagery to help make a point. I looked through my various playlists and see titles ranging from Henry Mancini’s Days of Wine and Roses (which will be playing in my head the rest of the morning now), to the Statler Brothers’ Flowers on the Wall to The Foundations singing Build Me Up Buttercup. There are myriad songs about roses, which I suppose is appropriate given their sentimental relationship to love, but I think it’s the non-rose songs that perhaps hold a stronger imagery, such as Edelweiss from The Sound of Music, and Tip Toe Through The Tulips by Tiny Tim.

My mother was always one of those people who said, “Give me my flowers while I’m alive,” and we tried to do that, but when she passed the church was so full of bouquets and sprays I’ve no idea whatever happened to them all. While flowers do, in some aspects, represent the temporary nature and frailty of life, I’ve never understood why we feel the need to inundate a family with them upon losing a loved one. Most cemeteries through them out after a week or so and for grieving families they can be an unwanted reminder of their loss. While their origin dates back to a time when bodies were not embalmed and would smell as they decayed, that’s not exactly a problem we face much anymore and too often the flowers are overwhelming, or a reminder in some cases of how few friends a person had.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]When flowers appear in artwork, however, I fear we are often too dismissive of their presence. We tend to think of them merely as decoration, or perhaps something to hold so that one’s hands don’t look awkward. Yet, flowers in art are symbols of femininity, virtuosity, and in some cases even conniving. Flowers have symbolized everything from a family’s wealth to the subject’s religious beliefs and in some cases even political affiliations. Present in almost every form of religious art, flowers serve as powerful metaphors for matters of significance.

So, where are we going when we pick a couple of dyed daisies and use them as we have in today’s photo? Daises traditionally represent innocence and gentleness.  Given the implied placement of the flowers here, innocence and gentleness is certainly a preferred way of looking at the matter. However, that would really only apply were the daisies white. These were dyed red and orange. Red daisies represent a beauty the possessor doesn’t realize. Orange, while not natural in daisies, generally represents warmth. I’ll just let your imagination take it from there.

Flowers are so very fragile, and at the same time so very powerful. They are a simple way of infusing deeper meaning into an image that possessed little. Their mere presence can write stories that would go on for pages. They spark our sense of the romantic and the poetic. And occasionally, in certain circumstances, the flowers seem to beg us to pick them. Should you choose to pluck these, I strongly recommend handling with care.[/one_half_last]

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