My latest post for work: A new theremin, a new way to learn, a new way to work together
My latest post about blogging for work: Blogging for business: you are no longer just you
The trick, even if you are no longer just you, is to figure out how to bring as much of yourself as you can.
Enjoy the recursion …
I think it was in the Old West because there were Indians, and it was dusty and stuff. He married this Indian girl, this guy’s daughter, and he kept yelling off a cliff, “I am Pete!” I don’t really don’t know why he was doing that.
Now 65, Richard Thompson lives in Pacific Palisades in a cottage with a small pool in back, as well as a modest guesthouse with an island theme — a surfboard lodged in the rafters, sofa cushions with a palm-frond pattern, a mural of Polynesian bathing beauties smiling down from the wall. Teddy briefly lived in the guesthouse when he was first starting out in the music business, but now Richard uses it as a recording studio. As they set up, Richard and Teddy untangled cords and fiddled with equipment. Richard worked barefoot and wore black cargo pants; Teddy, who has his mother’s expensive tastes, wore skinny jeans. They talked about some sounds they were going to try out later that day, including the hurdy-gurdy, of which Richard is a fan. “It’s very easy to play,” Richard said. “It’s simply hard to play well.”
“Which one will you be doing?” Teddy asked.
– Teddy Thompson’s Folk-Rock Family Reunion (Susan Dominus, NY Times Magazine)
It’s hard for me to describe at this late date how exciting this was in 1981: funkiest thing around, outstanding antiwar song, all of George Clinton’s promises finally coming true. Prince hasn’t done anything that’s moved me since the 1996 double-shot of Chaos and Disorder and Emancipation, but this is still thrilling and I’m grateful to this site for unearthing it.
The effect on the business was profound, as if Chuck Berry had walked into a Glenn Miller show and started playing guitar.
– One of many, many wonderful sentences in David Carr’s remembrance of Ben Bradlee
The whole column is worth reading and probably worth memorizing, but if you’re in TL;DR mode at least read the full paragraph in which that sentence arrives:
So in 1969, [Bradlee] conjured Style, a hip, cheeky section of the newspaper that reflected the tumult of the times in a city where fashion and discourse were rived with a maddening sameness. The effect on the business was profound, as if Chuck Berry had walked into a Glenn Miller show and started playing guitar. He expanded the vernacular of newspapering, enabling real, actual writers to shed the shackles of convention and generate daily discourse that made people laugh, spill their coffee or throw The Post down in disgust.
Earlier tonight, right after dinner, in an attempt to delay having to clean the kitchen, I took the dog for a walk. One of the places we stopped was a convenience store across the main street, a place where the employees are reasonably friendly to me and exceedingly friendly to the dog.
At the convenience store, I saw that the clerk was having trouble communicating with a young woman who was unable to explain to him what she wanted to buy from the store’s small drugstore section. She spoke only Spanish; the clerk spoke only English. I handed her my smartphone, thinking she might type what she wanted into the search box. Then, maybe, the phone could translate and we humans could figure it out together.
She took the phone, and typed, without hesitation or error, “pastillas para el periodo menstrual,” I directed her to Midol, used the smartphone to translate the words on the box into Spanish, and she was soon on her way.
That young woman was remarkably poised for someone who was in menstrual pain and likely not enjoying talking, or trying to talk, to two strange men about it. I didn’t consider it at the time, but now I realize how impressive she was in the moment.
Because she spoke only Spanish in a place where no one else did, it was quite a lot of work for her to advocate for herself and get what she needed. I hope it ended well, but if it did there was some luck involved.
That got me to thinking about some of the unluckiest people at the edge of our country right now, the many thousands of unaccompanied children from Central America desperate to get away from the violence in their home countries and into the U.S. One of their biggest problems right now is that they don’t know how to communicate in English, the language of power, making it much harder for them to advocate for themselves.
When I hear the anger and outrage so many express against these children, I want those who people who feel that anger and outrage to imagine what life might be like for them, only partway through a long and tortuous journey, having trouble describing their most basic and personal needs. And then I want them to think about how they might want to be treated in such circumstances if they faced similarly bad luck.
Dialogue guaranteed reported verbatim:
Other person: You posted your first media diet piece more than a month ago. Where’s part 2?
Me: I have job, a family, a house …
Other person: No, really. How long can it take to do something like this? It’s just a damn list.
Me: I don’t want to publish a list. Lists are boring.
Other person: Two of your books are just lists.
Me: (pause) Oh. I’ll get to it right now.
Other person: Good.
Here’s what I’ve listened to most recently, according to the Recently Played playlist on my phone. All records listed here are definitely endorsements.
William Onyeabor, Anything You Sow (extra-scratchy-downloaded-illegally-from-the-Internet version; track for track it’s almost as solid as the Luaka Bop best-of)
Brand New Wayo (more early-’80s Nigerian funk, but less precise than Onyeabor’s; ideal running accompaniment and rigorously documented)
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Hypnotic Eye (what a band!)
Country Funk (terrific compilation that lives up to its name)
Istanbul 70 (strong introduction to Turkish rock)
Debo Band, Flamingoh (almost everything they do is great: just pledge already)
Courtney Barnett, The Double EP (Dylanesque, hilarious, cutting)
Iggy Azalea featuring Charli XCX and other people, “Fancy” (hilarious, cutting, not at all Dylanesque)
Wipers, Is This Real (exquisite Northwestern punk; Eli got me listening to it again)
Camp, WRUV, Graveyard Shift 1, July 29, 2014 (late-night college radio at its dreamiest)
Joe Grushecky, New Project Demos (sorry, I can’t give anything away)
Gyedu-Blay Ambolley, Simigwa (1975, Ghanaian funk at its funkiest)
Nils Lofgren, Face the Music (all I’ve heard is the alternate take of “Keith Don’t Go” that they’re teasing; maybe Concord will send me the whole thing?)
The Rise and Fall of Paramount Records, Vol 1. (mysteries inside mysteries inside mysteries inside …)
Lucinda Williams, 25th Anniversary Version (the remastering helps you hear that the performances are as outstanding as the compositions)
Bob Dylan, Down the River (random bootleg, includes one outtake with the world “polka” in it)
Old 97’s, Most Messed Up (tales from the road, often — but not always — with insights that rock as hard as the rhythm section)
Drive-By Truckers, Dragon Pants (Chuck Berry lives!)
Antibalas (Fela lives!)
Bruce Springsteen, American Beauty (you’d expect an EP of outtakes from an LP of outtakes to be bottom-of-the-barrel stuff, but you’d be wrong)
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, Brisbane 2-26-14 (greatest. e street setlist. ever.)
This Is Marijata (more ’70s funk from Ghana)
Graham Parker and the Rumour The Up Escalator (it’s no Squeezing Out Sparks — what is? — but this showcases a band at its peak, which led me to listen to …)
Graham Parker and the Rumour, Official Bootleg Box (six CDs of similar setlists is more than a normal person might want to hear, but I’m not a normal person. Steve Goulding!)
Rough Francis, Maximum Soul Power (Burlington VT’s hardest-rocking band — but not featuring my favorite bass player in Burlington)
Purple Snow: Forecasting the Minneapolis Sound (the world that created Prince, along with the sound of Prince creating himself)
Ariana Grande and a bunch of other people, “Problem” (wonderful combination of items that shouldn’t fit together but does, like finds at a yard sale)
The Replacements, Let It Be (the reunion tour bumbles into Boston next month)
Lorde, Pure Heroine (the beginning of a long, satisfying, twisting story, I’m hoping)
The Mekons Rock’n’Roll (Steve Goulding’s other band at its peak)
Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Psychedelic Pill (probably their last, featuring the greatest song ever written that takes place in a Ramada Inn)
Bob Dylan, Now Your Mouth Cries Wolf (I’m holding out for a complete “She’s Your Lover Now” someday, but I’m not optimistic)