Once in a while from out of nowhere
When you don’t expect it, and you’re unprepared
Somebody will come and lift you higher
And your burdens will be shared
Yes I do believe, if I hadn’t met you
I might still be sinking fast
I’ve had a long streak of bad luck
But I’m praying it’s gone at last

She said a good day
Ain’t got no rain
She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken, and many times confused
And I’ve often felt forsaken, and certainly misused.
But it’s all right, it’s all right, I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be bright and Bon Vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home.
I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
Don’t have a friend who feels at ease
Don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to it’s knees.
But it’s all right, all right, We’ve lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road we’re traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong, I can’t help it

I am following the river
Down the highway
Through the cradle of the civil war

Trust your intuition
It’s just like goin fishin’
You cast your line and hope you get a bite
You don’t need to waste your time
Worryin’ about the market place
Trying to help the human race
Strugglin to survive it’s harshest hour

Não creio em civilidade extrema (já disse isso aqui algumas vezes), especialmente em termos de sentimento. Paul Simon é gênio, a melodia é sensacional e a letra reflexiva. De qualquer forma, acho tudo muito britânico.

Still crazy after all these years
Paul Simon

I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Still crazy after all these years

I`m not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways.
And I ain`t no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
Still crazy after all these years

Four in the morning
Tapped out
Yawning
Longing my life away
I`ll never worry
Why should I ?
It`s all gonna fade

Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars roll by
I fear I`ll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years

The video quality is pretty lame, but the audio is good and this duet performance of Paul and George on SNL in the late 70’s remains a classic.

Homeward Bound is the second song they do, after Here Comes The Sun, and it’s this Paul Simon song I was first looking for as fitting music for this traveling holiday.

For those with memories that stretch back this far,  filmmaker Gary Weiss also made an SNL short film with Homeward Bound as the soundtrack to wonderful montage scenes of family reunions at airports, and train and bus terminals.

Here’s hoping all your travels go well, even if only they’re  to and from the convenience store for tampons and tonic water.   Happy Thanksgiving!

A famous musical flop is returning to Broadway. Paul Simon’s The Capeman, which lost $11 million on Broadway in 1998 and earned Simon the nickname “The Flopman,” is being consider for next years’s  Public Theater season, the New York Post reports. Oskar Eustis, the head of the Public Theater, is in talks with Simon about bringing the show back next year. “Oskar loves ‘The Capeman,’ ” a Public Theater spokesperson says. “He loves the music and the story. He has met with Paul Simon, but there are not concrete plans at this time.”

Well, they may not be “concrete,” but there are plans, according to the gossipy Post.

Eustis, sources say, wants to do a concert version of the show. The book—by Nobel Prize winning Derek Walcott—will be pretty much eliminated, which is a good thing, sources say, “because it’s dreadful.” But Walcott’s lyrics — and Simon’s tunes — are haunting. “Born in Puerto Rico,” “Satin Summer Nights” and the gorgeous “Time Is an Ocean” are first-rate songs that got lost in the mess that wound up on Broadway.

“The Capeman” was never recorded, but Simon made a studio album, “Songs From the Capeman,” the year before the show opened that’s well worth hunting down.

Simon performed songs from “The Capeman” at BAM last year, which is where Eustis got the idea of bringing back the show. Simon, the Post reports, might perform in the Public Theater version as well.

“The Capeman” tells the story of Salvador Agrón, a Puerto Rican gang member who murdered two teenagers in Hell’s Kitchen in 1959.

The original production starred Ruben Blades as old Salvador and Marc Anthony as young Salvador.

If Eustis can get Anthony to play old Salvador in the Public’s concert version — and if Simon’s in it, too — you’re looking at a hot ticket.

Read more at http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/theater/flop_secret_LnXWmOJrTf39LB0gbRTTSO#ixzz0XdaRPxJ6

In my drawing studio, I always listen to Simon & Garfunkel. Isn’t that strange?

We are drawing figures, which means nude models. It is quite intimidating, and awkward, and strange, and it makes me really nervous, but Simon & Garfunkel seem to calm me down enough and I have begun to produce great drawings in the class.

I guess I owe it to them.

You may be surprised at the scope of this week’s topic because when it comes to Elvis Presley, well nearly everyone’s got an opinion. The iconic nature of Elvis Presley in music and popular culture, has often made him a subject of, or a benchmark, in numerous songs. We launched the show with CALLING ELVIS by Dire Straits. Written by Mark Knopler and released in 1991, the song is about an Elvis fan that can’t believe that Elvis Presley is dead. Based on some of the bizarre ’sightings’ over the years, I fear he is not alone.

A song from one of my favourite films followed: Public Enemy’s groundbreaking FIGHT THE POWER from the soundtrack of DO THE RIGHT THING, directed by Spike Lee in 1989. Like the film, the song broke at a crucial period in America’s struggle with race. Unabashedly political, FIGHT THE POWER was confrontational in the way that great rock has always been. It attacks a whole roster of American icons including Elvis and John Wayne in what amounts to a virtual flag burning. Because who better embodies the American ideal than the King? The song goes so far as to call Elvis racist. I don’t agree with that. But what I do know from the National Archives is that in 1970 Elvis wrote a six-page letter to Richard Nixon asking him to make him a ‘Federal Agent-At-Large’ in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. And amongst the gifts that Elvis presented to the then President was a Colt-45 pistol. So what do we make of all this? Maybe only that, like a lot of his countrymen, Elvis was a misguided patriot who defended the nation’s order – an order from which blacks, in particular, had been routinely barred. The irony, of course, is that Elvis was the first artist to successfully blend black and white music: country music and the blues. And didn’t he do it well?

It was time for a change of tone: The very whimsical and wonderful Kirsty McColl’s with THERE’S A GUY WORKS DOWN THE CHIP SHOP SWEARS HE’S ELVIS. The song made an appearance on the FAMOUS PEOPLE show, but definitely deserved another spin. We followed with Richard Thompson’s FROM GALWAY TO GRACELAND.

Robbie Williams’ ADVERTISING SPACE is a song not only about Elvis but, also, about the price of fame.  Emmylou Harris followed with BOY FROM TUPELO. In case you weren’t aware Elvis was born in Tupelo Mississipi on January 8, 1935. And then it was the great Roy Orbison with HOUND DOG MAN.

Living Colour funked it up with their critique of the tabloids. The song  ELVIS IS DEAD ups the ante with an appearance by Little Richard. Check it out.

We dived into the second hour of the program with Ann Margret singing the title song of the film BYE BYE BIRDIE. Based on the stage musical of the same name, the story was inspired by Elvis Presley being drafted into the US Army in 1957. Jesse Pearson played the role of teen idol Conrad Birdie, whose character’s name is a wordplay on another singer of the era, Conway Twitty.  The film is credited with making Ann-Margret a superstar during the mid-1960s, leading to her appearing with Elvis Presley in Viva Las Vegas in 1964.

A couple of great songs were suggested to me by BayFM’s very own Cowboy Sweetheart, Carrie D. First up, Bap Kennedy with GLADYS & VERNON about Elvis’s parents and the night that Elvis was born. And then it was the great Waylon Jennings with the very entertaining NOBODY KNOWS.

I absolutely adore BLACK VELVET by Allanah Myles and have played that before. But, hey, when a song’s as good as this one it deserves a replay!

U2’s song ELVIS ATE AMERICA illustrates the many personas of Elvis, both good and bad. And then it was the romantically delusional Scouting For Girls with ELVIS ISN’T DEAD: ”Elvis isn’t dead ’cause I heard him on the radio….. and you’re coming back to me.”  Yeah, sure guys.

Time to get serious: First up, Kate Bush with her hit song about Elvis – KING OF THE MOUNTAIN. And then, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds transported us into a disturbing world with their song about the night that Elvis was born. Elvis was a twin but his brother was still-born. The song is TUPELO from the album THE FIRSTBORN IS DEAD. Here’s the totally mesmerising clip:

John Fogarty likens Elvis to the BIG TRAIN (FROM MEMPHIS). Neil Young reminded us that it’s “better to burn out than to fade away “, with his song MY, MY, HEY HEY.

Another of my faves followed: Cowboy Junkies with BLUE MOON REVISITED, otherwise known as SONG FOR ELVIS. And then it was Paul Simon’s song about travelling to Elvis Presley’s home, GRACELAND, with the Everly Brothers helping out on vocals. Don’t have a clip with the Everlys in it, but you can’t do much better than this concert performance of the song in Zimbabwe. Enjoy.

There was time for a little more mjusic dedicated to Elvis before signing off and what better than ELVIS HAS JUST LEFT THE BUILDING by the one and only Frank Zappa. And, of course, I had to play some of the King himself so we went out with BURNIN’ LOVE. Here’s what all the fuss is about:

Next week’s show will be dedicated to the patron saint of Theme Park, Roy Orbison, who died 21 years ago this December 6. So songs by Roy Orbison, The Travelling Wilburys, duets with Roy and covers of Roy Orbison songs. Anything connected to Roy Orbison qualifies. Personally I can’t wait!

Here’s this week’s playlist:

Ibland går det över styr.

Jag måste börja med att fastställa att jag nog går i den duktigaste och finaste högstadieklass som någonsin existerat. Tror jag iallafall, och de tror nog resten av mina klasskamrater (bra ord, bra ord!) också. När vi ska vara tysta så är vi det, och då verkligen tysta. Man kan höra en poesisamling falla. Och när vi ska diskutera så gör vi det, och då engagerat (om inte passionerat) som få. På våra klassfester så leker vi tjuv och polis tills vi faller ihop av trötthet, och alla lärare är förhållandevis kära i (delar av) oss. 

Men på syslöjdslektionerna blir vi (vi och vi, snarare en majoritet av oss. Så ta inte åt er) förvandlade, förändrade, förskräckliga! Jag tänker inte nämna några namn, men några beter sig som att ett IG bara skulle underlätta för dem i slutet av terminen…! De skriker och bråkar, går ifrån klassrummet mitt i lektionen och är allmänt dumma i sina stora, fula huvuden. Idag, när vår lärare hade skrikit på dem i exakt två timmar och femtio minuter, så fick hon nog och körde ut varenda elev ur klassrummet. Medan vi tog på oss skorna så såg vi att hon stod i fönstret och grät. På riktigt. Med blöta, långsamma tårar. Sedan var hon helt rödmosig i ansiktet och jag fick dåligt samvete trots att jag hade suttit snällt på min plats hela lektionen. 

Jag har en nästan obehaglig respekt för lärare. De är vuxna, förhoppningsvis intelligenta och håller ovarsamt min framtid i sina händer. Och fattigdom betyder okunskap, visste ni om det? 

Jag lyssnar på Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard och funderar över män (i bemärkelsen människor) som var före sin tid. Det var inte många som skrev om tonårig homosexuell kärlek 1972. Jag är imponerad, Paul Simon. 

Ack, skivomslag som detta tillverkas inte längre. Skamligt.

I was out on the concrete Saturday night, usual spot.  November evening, cool-to-chilly.  Dry.  I’d set up my little P.A. system and guitar and mic and tip jar and music stand and I’d been strummin’ and hummin’ for about an hour.  Decent body traffic, routine tippage.  Good times.

It’s hard to read a crowd sometimes, especially when it really isn’t a crowd, but an ebb and flow of people to the movies or from the movies to the parking lot, or…

So, sometimes, it’s just best to play because you like to and not worry about “should I do a fast one?”  “Slow one?”

I thought twice about playing “So Far Away,” the Dire Straits tune.  I do a good job with it, since it does not require one to sing like David Lee Roth or Andrea Bocelli but it’s on the slow side and I sometimes feel it’s a bit of drag (though I love the song).  So I hemmed and hawed and finally decided to play it.  About two and have verses in, I notice to my right a fella standing there.  He’d dropped a couple bucks in the guitar case and was lingering the in area.  Longish hair, tall, dark–sort of Pakistani-looking.  Big smile.

“Hey, how ya doin’?”

“Good. That’s a great song.  I recorded it for my girlfriend,”  he said and held out his i-Phone.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she’s in Michigan.”

“And you’re here—in the sun and she’s there in the…snow.” (A play on the words of the song).  “So are you going back?”

“Yeah.  I’m just out here for work, on a project for a few weeks.  I miss her so I wanted to send her the song.”

“That’s very cool.  I’ll start it again and you can get it from the top.”

So, he laid his i-Phone down by the P.A. speak and I started the song up again and it was oh-so smooth.  While it is true that a performer must generate his/her own energy and emotion and give it away to the listener, there is still something distinctly energizing about receiving the listener’s interest and enthusiasm and playing off of it, or playing when you know somebody wants it or will be benefited by it.  It was the coolest, rockin’-est version of “So Far Away” I’d every played.  He was so knocked out, he dropped a twenty in the case and bounced away a very happy man.

I told my friend Bill Berry this little tale the next day and he made a very validating observation: busking is a direct entertainment, an opportunity to reach a single person directly–much different from going to see Bon Jovi at an arena (don’t get me wrong–I like Bon Jovi).  Of course, this is pretty obvious but when you’re out there working on your chops  or trying to make a few extra bucks and deflect the occasional ill-intentioned individual, you don’t necessarily think in terms of touching another person (or helping them to touch another person…in Michigan).

But that is what is.  I am out there as much for the good people as I am to keep my chops up or make a few extra bucks.  I have a mental scrapbook of time when I was deeply affected by a song or have been out in the crowd and was swept away by some music I was not expecting or something new that really hit the spot.  I recall one time driving my friend’s fully restored ‘67 Mercury Cougar to work (my truck was in the shop) and “All I Want” by Toad the Wet Sprocket came on the radio.  That was the first time I heard it and I had to pull the car over it affected me so much.

Those really are the moments I live for.

Visit my website at www.stevennealwagner.com

Vampire Weekend has revived the South African guitar sound that Paul Simon incorporated in late 80’s. The fresh, clean sound is infectious and danceable which has made the band sky rocket to success. I’ve heard 1 track off of the forth-coming album, and it sounds like it’s in-line with the bands debut sound. I can’t wait to hear the album in it’s entirety.

Vampire Weekend “One (Blake’s Got a New Face)”

Like what you see feel free to email me at tad@creativesquall.com and don’t forget to become a fan on Facebook. Check out the Creative Squall website to see how sketches grow up to be complete ideas.

1. Paul Simon – Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard
2. Slow Club – Come on Youth
3. Andrew Bird – Nomenclature
4. The 1900s – When I Say Go
5. Sleater-Kinney – Good Things

Hoyas 3-0! Yeah, buddy.

Speaking of which, it was nice to see our old homeboy Jeff Green on the court against the Wizards last night…

…Looking for an act of devotion in honor of the Solemnity of Christ the King?

Consider adding your e-signature to the Manhattan Declaration…

…After I finished high school, I got a job typing the reports of a company of local archaeologists.

The company specialized in pre-historic archaeology–that is, the study of artifacts produced by people who did not have writing.

In our area, you can discover a pre-historic artifact while you are out for a walk. There are still Algonquian arrowheads and potsherds lying on the surface of the earth.

Contrast this with archaeology in the Old City of Jerusalem. On Monday evening, we walked down four flights of steps from street level. We emerged into a cistern that was built to hold water for use in the Temple in the fifth century B.C.

Chiesa Nuova in Rome

There are books written about the building of that temple–they can be found in the Old Testament. My point is: In Jerusalem, archaelogists have dug and dug and dug, and they still have not gotten to the pre-historic level.

And here is some more perspective: In our day and age, since the beginning of the Digital/Organic Era (which began when Bill Gates’ net worth reached $1 trillion), “new” refers to something that came into being in the last half-nanosecond.

In Rome, there is a beautiful church called Chiesa Nuova, the “New Church.” It was completed in 1606.

In Jerusalem, the Nea, the “new” church in honor of Mary the Mother of God, has lay buried beneath the rubble of earthquake and Persian destruction for 1200 years.

Today is the day the Nea was dedicated in A.D. 543.

Our Lady was born in Jerusalem. She was among the girls who cared for the Temple paraphernalia.

When Mary brought the newborn Jesus to the Temple to present Him to the Father, she encountered the priest Simeon and the prophetess Anna. The three of them may already have known each other.

The above is a mosaic map of Christian Jerusalem. It is not easy to read. The Cardo, or main street, runs left to right through the middle of the city. The huge ancient basilica of the Holy Sepulcher is below the main street, the Nea is above it, to the right. There was an annual procession between the two churches.

…I am sorry that I allowed the following “Bests” list to get as stale as five-year-old granola bars. It is retired. An exciting new edition is available behind the Bests tab above.

SPECIAL “MY iPOD” EDITION

Best Rob Thomas Song: “Real World” (Matchbox 20)

(“I wish the real world would just stop hassling me” is not a bad motto.)

Best Paul Simon Song:
The Obvious Child

Best Radiohead Song:
Talk Show Host

Best Bruce Springsteen Song since 1979: Radio Nowhere

Best K.D. Lang Song: Constant Craving

Best Rock Band Alive Today: Switchfoot

Best B–n–d Ladies Song: Falling for the First Time

Best Cover Ever: The Boys of Summer by the Ataris

Best Nineties Band that No One Has Ever Heard Of: World Party

Best Taylor Swift Song: Teardrops on My Guitar

Well, I set WMP to the “Pop” genre, but I’m not sure I agree with all these songs’ designations; may have to do some adjusting…

1. “Water is Wide” – James Taylor, New Moon Shine
2. “One of Our Submarines” – Thomas Dolby, The Golden Age of Wireless
3. “Under African Skies” – Paul Simon, Graceland
4. “Strawberry Letter 23” – The Brothers Johnson, Right on Time
5. “True Colours” – Go West, Aces and Kings: The Best of Go West
6. “Sex Symbol” – Marc Jordan, Living in Marina Del Rey and Other Stories
7. “Love So Right” – Bee Gees, Here at Last…Live
8. “Something We Can Do” – Vitamin Z, Rites of Passage
9. “Girl in the Moon” – Icehouse, Man of Colours
10. “Walk on the Ocean” – Toad the Wet Sprocket, PS: A Toad Retrospective

Toad the Wet Sprocket is one of those groups I never appreciated at the time but enjoy now.  And Vitamin Z was a great 80’s pop group that never quite got off the ground.

despite us all feeling like this at 5:30 a.m.

(sorry for the photo quality in all the photos in this post… i thought i’d see how just using my iphone would work… not great)

we did haul ourselves out of bed and head to the gym for an interval eliptical workout

when i got to work i quickly remembered what was waiting for me…

ughhh what a mess! i just haven’t been able to get caught up this week!!

i gulped down one cup o’ sludge

and immediately brought in the big guns!

in case anyone is unfamiliar with this album, it is paul simon’s “graceland” and is without a doubt the best album EVER made. it’s my go to for many occasions… get your desk under control immediately being one of them!

at some point i wandered toward the kitchen and realized… it has begun!

the office holiday sugar blitz! from about now, until the new year… this will be staring at me NONSTOP!

i held out on any snacking until lunch

which was a flat out, wedge of light laughing cow and sunshine veggie burger

with a sort of random mix of cuc, cado, and frank’s…
RANDOM

then i treated myself with this little gem i’d been saving…

lindt dark chocolate with “a touch of sea salt” – the package looks like this…

i have a little love affair with this chocolate. just a little bit… the dark chocolate is all you taste at first, but then the saltiness comes through, and it’s LOVE.

that being said, i’m not a huge chocolate person… in fact, i have found when i eat sugar in the afternoon, i crash… even this little piece of chocolate resulted in me gulping down about 3 glasses of water b/c i just get tired and jittery when i consume it after lunch.

so after my little indulgence, i remembered today was “cake day” at work. this blessed event occurs once a month in our office, in celebration of whomever is turning another year older that month.

behold!

so given that sugar aint so sweet to my body in the afternoon, i enjoyed the celebration with everyone else, sans a slice of sin cake, and when it was over, enjoyed my p.m. snack

pineapple and cottage cheese… and yes, i chomped most of it down before i realized i forgot to take its portrait! oopsie!!

i’ll tell you what IS good for me in the afternoon/evening, and it’s getting to see the Pea Family!!!! i was alerted that they would be stopping at the Laughing Planet near my house tonight, so i headed there right after work and got to spend some time with them!! I LOVE THE PEAS!!

i figured if i was going to be at the glorious Laughing Planet (which is so yummy and less than 1 block from my casa)… i might as well order up some dinner of my own.

amazin’ grace quesadilla with tofu (tofu-duh, cheese, pesto, pico de gallo)… and while i was waiting for my food i spotted a seriously sweet sight…

this one’s for you Ali…………

heheheeeehehehe

O…….M…….G, in attempting to figure out how to type out pee wee’s laugh, i found THIS… GO HERE….DO IT

and i’m done!

Seems that these days that everybody is a singing judge. The South African rugger board has received an official apology from the French for this slightly wonky rendition of their national anthem by reggae artist Ras Dumisani.

Firstly, get over it. It’s just a song. Secondly Dumisani is South African so really you should be demanding an apology from yourselves. And finally, listen to your own team. They’re hardly Ladysmith Black Mambazo. I don’t remember Schalk Burger featuring on Paul Simon’s Graceland.

Dumisani is gaining the usual cultish following on Youtube. Word is that for his next trick he’ll be laying down a two-step beat and bodypopping his way through the Haka.

Music is a language the whole world can speak, it unites people from across the globe but I think it’s fair to say that music is unequally picked up and transmitted.

Pop music dominates the sound waves and generally these artists tend to be westerners, the world’s biggest stars hailing from America or Europe.

When was the last time you can honestly remember hearing a record by a Senegalese artist on mainstream radio? Artists take inspiration from around the world but most music accreditation lie with those artists from the west.

Youssou N'Dour: Senegalese artist

This is Youssou N’Dour, hailed the greatest African artist of the century but how many of us in the west have heard his name or heard his music?

If we did hear it would we class it as Senegalese music or throw it into the category of World Music? I think the answer to this lies on our High Streets. If you walk into any HMV in any part of the UK you will find, probably near the back of the store,  the World Music section. If you take a closer look at this section you will see it is split into a small number of very simple categories.

On the web page this is shown as:

African

Arabia

Asia

European

Oceanic

The Americas

Such a simplistic way to look at the world generally. It reflects who are the most powerful countries in the world. American and UK artists dominate the majority of shelves in places like HMV but not only in the UK. The global superstars of today are not representative of the world but of the west and richer nations. Those who can afford to compete in music industry. Therefore I believe those who dominate the music industry are a reflection of the uneven wealth of our world.

Artists such as Lady Gaga can afford to market themselves across the world and put on elaborate shows and make expensive music videos so their music is heard by the world.

The music industry has taken a lot of stick recently when it comes to how it has changed and being run as a business by businessmen, not creative people. I found this video quite interesting and the comments made by Radiohead.

For those classed as world music artists, one of the only ways to make it into mainstream music is to collaborate with well-known artists from the west. This can be seen through the example of Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Paul Simon on his album Graceland, whilst they may have already been contributing to international music in a huge way, for them to be known globally they needed to team up with someone like Paul Simon.

Here’s some of their well-known hits

And a clip on the story of how the album Graceland was made, the first album of its kind, a collaboration between World Music artists and western artists

And an example of how their boost to the limelight by Paul Simon saw them make their way onto the famous American Children’s TV show Sesame Street

The dissemnation of music around the world is uneven and unfair. Artists from the west pick up inspiration from the traditional music of poorer countries but do not give appropriate accreditation. Despite Paul Simon bringing Ladysmith Black Mombazo to the attention of the west, he still received criticism for taking the credit.

The publicity given to the group through the collaboration

Youssou N’Dour also gained greater publicity across the globe by collaborating with Peter Gabriel

So is the music industry stuck in a bad romance? My answer would be yes. Surely it cannot call itself a completely global business if it ignores music that is not from America or Europe?

Paul Simons “You Can Call Me Al” aus dem fantastischen Album Graceland von 1986:

[Danke an Krille! Remember MUC-FFM-Autotouring ]

I cannot wait to see Fantastic Mr. Fox. I’m an unabashed Wes Anderson fan, partially because of all the wee tiny details he packs into the art direction of his films. Like the corduroy suit Mr. Fox is wearing in the image above is a replica of Anderson’s own signature look.

Speaking of corduroy, The Corduroy Appreciation Club met for their bi annual meeting last Wednesday, or 11/11 the date which most closely resembles corduroy. Also, when I was a kid, I thought the chorus of Paul Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” said, “You don’t need to be corduroy, just get yourself free.”

But I am also in love with the badger painting in the background of this still. I think badgers are going to be the next big thing.

Images Copyright © Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation

Saturday morning, driving down to Champaign-Urbana to visit my younger son Luke (Dads Weekend at the U of I), when the radio signal on Scott Simon’s NPR show started to fade (interviews this week with Wes Anderson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), I took out this CD and slid it into the dashboard player—something Luke gave me, a couple years ago, for Christmas.

Wyclef Jean, Carnival II: Memoirs of an Immigrant (2007)

“Sweetest Girl (Dollar Bill)” (with Akon and Lil Wayne)

*****

“Any Other Day” (with Norah Jones)

*****

“Fast Car” (with Paul Simon)

**********

lagniappe

A native of Haiti, WJ established a foundation to provide aid to the people of that country, which can be found here.

Haiti is my native country, one I know as the first black nation to gain independence in 1804. Most other people seem to know Haiti only by the statistics about how bad things are there. The majority of its 8 million residents live on less than $1 per day. Unemployment is close to 80 percent, and more than half the population is under 21 years old. Haiti is the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere.

I have been spending a lot of time talking with people in my native country to try and understand what is behind these statistics and the past escalation of violence, all of which brings tears to my eyes. I have had conversations with gang leaders, met with the police officers and sat down with the leaders of the militias and the army. I have talked with Haitians from all walks of life, all colors of skin, all backgrounds and beliefs. From all these people I hear only one thing in my head and feel only one thing in my heart–that there is only one Haiti. Every Haitian loves their country like a mother loves her child.

I see old women with large bags of rice on their heads and men on street corners selling sugarcane and mangos, all just trying to survive with a strong sense of pride. Walking past a church in my village, I hear the congregation singing an appeal to God to hear their cries and grant deliverance to Haiti. Through experiences like this, I sense where my mother and my father got their strength. Now the whole country needs to reach deep into the spirit and strength that is part of our heritage.

The objective of [my foundation] Yéle Haiti is to restore pride and a reason to hope, and for the whole country to regain the deep spirit and force that is part of our heritage.—Wyclef Jean

We continued watching the moose for a few more minutes with him continuing his lack of concern for the orange box-car parked nearby.  Paul commented, “Dude, he loves the Element.”  The horned creature acted as if Honda Elements were commonplace in these parts.

A field of Mountain Elements grazing upon the grass.

Paul’s theory of the moose’s affection for us was soon proven when a car of tourists, seeing us parked roadside, decided to pull up behind to see what we were looking at. As they came to a halt, the moose turned and ran back into the vast abyss of evergreens. 

“Damn terrorists,” Paul grumbled as I started the car, back up, and veered onto the road.  With the sun setting and our buzzes dying, we decided to begin looking for a good spot to pull off for the night.  After passing several inlets, Paul spotted a sign pointing left with the notification “Lake 2 Miles”.  We decided to check it out, thinking that a night next to a lake sounded like the perfect finish to our day.  We pulled onto the road and commenced riding up a winding path for several miles.  Along the way we spotted various hiking trails, but none of them signified whether they led to the lake or not.  After about 10 minutes, we found ourselves at an intersection with the highway we’d just ridden on earlier.  No sign of a lake anywhere! We decided to pull a u-turn and head back toward the main entrance.  We weren’t sure if we were allowed to camp in the area without a permit, so we needed to find a nice sheltered spot to hide the car.  One of the trails featured a wider entrance, making the perfect parking spot for concealing the Element from those pesky park rangers.

Orange is the new Camo.

We decided to search for the lake in the morning, with sun-down approaching.  Instead, we headed into the woods to find a place to set up camp quickly.  We walked for a while until we came to a creek.  I suggested we camp there, right next to the calming waters, but for some reason Paul insisted we cross the creek to camp on the other side.  When pressed for why we needed to add the headache of trying to cross the water, he had no answer – yet he refused to back down on his idea.  To avoid a pointless argument, I gave in, following him along the creek’s bank in search of a crossing point.  After walking some distance, we finally came upon a log that reached from one side to the other.  Watching Paul balance his way across, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?” Was it the added sense of adventure? Or was he disagreeing with me just for the sake of it? Whatever his reason, moments later I was clumsily moving along the log. 

...and we're doing this because?

Once over our first obstacle, Paul settled upon the “perfect” spot to set up camp.  Soon after we had the tent assembled and a fire a-blazing. We sat down upon a rotted log with beers in hand and beans sizzling on Paul’s new frying pan.  We began discussing the culinary arts, as a matter of fact, with me telling him about my recent obsession with cooking. For most of my “adult” life, I’ve lived on a diet of grilled chicken breasts and Lipton rice packets, with the occasional bowl of mac and cheese thrown in there.  But over the past year my cooking exploits became an exercise in curiosity, experimenting with various meats, spices, and sauces.  It all started with me working through Steven Raichlen’s “How to Grill” methodically, vowing to try every recipe and every cut of meat (my friend Justin LeSieuer swears by this book, and after tasting his masterful grilling on a past road trip, I had to learn the secret of his craft). 

For some reason, this best selling writer uses the same horrible picture with the blotchy eye on all of his books and grilling products, a fact that irritates me to no end.

When I became bored with Raichlen, I began recording Rachel Ray episodes, and eventually subscribed to her magazine.  My girlfriend always accused me of having a crush on Rachel, but I swear to this day that I love her recipes and the fact that she’s a lush (although I do find her raspy phlegm voice sexy). 

"For today's recipe, you're going to need a jar of my signature phlegm marinade."

Like a couple of old hens, Paul and I sat by the fire exchanging recipes.  As I was expressing my annoyance at the lack of lamb meat in Texas meat markets (all they sell are baby goats and pig intestines) Paul interrupted me abruptly.  “What was that?!” Shocked, I grabbed my mag-light and shone it into the shadowy woods.  “I saw something moving out there. Something big………anyways, what were you saying about lamb meat?”

 Despite his attempts to move on with our conversation, I pestered him with questions.  “Did it look like a moose? An elk? A bear?!”

 Growing annoyed, he tried shutting me up saying, “It was nothing.”

 By the time I finished my last sip of beer and entered the tent, I couldn’t get the vision of the monster shadow out of my head.  For the next two hours, I laid awake, watching the shadows along the tent walls and listening to the rustle outside my door. 

Eventually I did get to sleep, but awoke moments later to my tent falling apart all around me.  As you can probably imagine, I was pretty flustered, feeling for the door, and un-zipping it to see what had caused my tent’s demise.  It seemed one of my stakes had come out of the soft dirt.  For some reason, I couldn’t find the errant stake, despite the help of my mag-light. How could a tent stake just disappear?! 

 After 10 minutes, I gave up my search and put my tent back up, using a broken branch as my stake replacement.  Once inside, I quickly fell back asleep. Unfortunately, I had a nightmare.

  In my dream, I was sleeping in my tent (imagine that), and a little wood elf snuck up, giggling and attempting to steal another tent stake.  It was at this point in the nightmare where I’m not sure what was real and what was imagined. The whole thing seemed so vivid, yet, had to be my imaginings.  In the dream (or in real life) I opened the tent quickly, in hopes of alarming the wood elf, but found nothing. I’m sure my mind conjured the entire scene from my yearly readings of “The Hobbit” with my students, with Bilbo and the gang being taunted by the disappearing firelight of the wood elves. I continued hearing the giggling for the remainder of the night, but never did figure out if it was a dream or not.

Who needs an elven-sword when you've got a plastic tent stake.

Thanks to my restless night of battling with a pesky wood elf, I was wide awake by six.  With Paul still resting, I grabbed my ghetto copy of “Fellowship of the Ring” and began reading the prologue, a special added bonus with my 50^th anniversary edition.  In it, Tolkien rants and raves for a dozen pages about all the haters trying to find holes in his books.  As much as I enjoy his books, Tolkien seems like a curmudgeon. The fact that he insists that there aren’t any metaphors or symbolism in his books is bullshit.

 Once I could hear Paul moving around outside, I emerged from my tent and began helping him take down camp.  We never did find the missing stake.  I decided I would have to be creative the rest of the trip.

Once everything was packed, we headed back toward the car.  When we came to the creek, I crossed the log once again, while Paul decided to strip down to his second-hand Army underwear to get a morning wake-up.  While he acted like a crazy man, hooting and hollering in the water, I opted to adhere to my own wake-up call in the form of a Starbucks Double shot.

 Back at the car, we decided to take a quick morning hike in search of the lake.  Plus, we hadn’t showered in four days and were both beginning to smell musty.  We unpacked our bags and grabbed what we would need for our hike.  I unhooked one of the attachments off of my Army pack, a small bag that doubled as a fanny pack.  I filled it up with bug spray, sun-screen, camping soap, my I-POD, and my book.  I was already seeing the perks of having such a versatile pack.

 We found a path located near the entrance and decided to give it a shot.  It had to lead somewhere! We followed it, leading us downward into a valley of green.  40 minutes later, we still hadn’t found any signs of a lake.  We decided to climb up onto a nearby rock ledge to get a better view of the area, and as expected, could seeing nothing but miles of trees.  The lake remained a mystery. 

Frustrated and sweaty, we decided to back-track and take one of the paths that connected to ours.  Re-treading the same path, I found my surroundings monotonous and decided to put my ear-buds in.  Needing a pick me up, I decided upon Paul Simon’s “Graceland”, an album I’d purchased only a few months earlier, deciding if I liked Vampire Weekend so much, I should at least own the album they ripped off. 

Although my new found admiration for Simon could have been due in part to "Flight of the Conchords" Simon and Garfunkel episode.

The African hooks and hollers soon had me picking up my pace, eventually even passing up Paul who always leads us when hiking due to me being a slow-ass.  I relished the album’s intricate beats and found myself obsessively focusing on the bass-line in each song.  Seriously, the “Graceland” bassist puts Les Claypool to shame, with its strange sounds that resemble both a tuba and an instrument from Tatooine.

Paul Simon and his new band are currently working on their new album "Spaceland".

Once on the off-shoot path, we walked for another 30 minutes, which flew by thanks to Paul Simon and his African marching band, leading the charge.  At one point, I passed a married couple, probably in their 50s, huffing and puffing as I passed, the first sign of human life all day.  A little further up the way, I halted to look back on Paul, finding he had stopped to talk to them.  I removed my ear-buds and walked all the way back to hear the last bit of the conversation with the woman answering Paul with, “Lake? Ha! The lake dried up years ago.” Paul and I exchanged looks of frustration and thanked the couple for their help.  With no pot of gold at the end of our trail, Paul told me to follow him off the beaten path; he had an idea.  After a small jaunt through the wild, we emerged to find ourselves at the edge of a raging river.  It was a surprise because I hadn’t heard the splashing water due to “Graceland” blaring in my ears. 

 I walked along the river’s edge a bit and found the perfect bath tub, an inlet of calm water, safe from the raging waters of the river. 

 Feeling dirtier than ever with the fresh sweat forming on top of the dried sweat of days prior, I quickly stripped down to my grundies.  As I neared the water’s edge, I decided I didn’t want to hike all the way back to the car wearing wet underwear, so there was only one thing to do.  I dropped my drawers and jumped into the icy water all in one motion, like a scene from “Lord of the Flies”.  Instantly, my body went into shock, feeling the chill of the water that had probably been snow only a few days prior.  I stood up and let out a shrill shout of “HOOO! HOO! HOO! HOO!” sounding like a lost member of the African chorus on Paul Simon’s “I Know What I Know”. 

The chilly water sprayed me with goose bumps and splashed a smile across my face.  Yes, I must have looked crazy: a 30 year old English teacher standing nude in a freezing river amidst the Wyoming wild.  Yet, despite all the insanity involved in the act, never before had I felt such a rush of pure joy wash over the entirety of my body and soul. The Neanderthal in me had finally be awakened from his 30 year hibernation.

Last week Sesame Street celebrated its 40th birthday.While I’m late to the game, I’d still like to tip my hat to a show that left an indelible mark on my childhood, and I think is doing the same on my own kid’s. Disclaimer: she watches some “new” Sesame Street, but she’s as familiar with Mr. Hooper and David as she is with Telly and Elmo, thanks to Sesame Street: Old School.

Here are a few of my all time favourite Sesame Street moments with commentary:

1. Listen My Brother, 1970.  There is so much that is great about this performance, I can’t choose what I like best. The chick in the yellow dress who looks like she’s ready to take someone on? Or the dude in the white pants who jumps up and down the stairs? Or maybe the guy who goes ballistic on the cowbell towards the end? Or the lyrics “boys and girls, you can earn plenty, but you’ve got to learn how to count to twenty”? How could I ever decide?  Please enjoy and leave your comments. I can’t stop watching it.

2. Daddy Dear. This vignette served as fodder for my dreams and my nightmares for the majority of the 1970s.

3. Ladybugs’ Picnic. For whatever reason, my daughter demands that my husband sing this to her every night before bed. After almost two years it’s a normal song in our house. As is the next video…

4. Capital I. Seriously. My hubby sings this to our kid every night before bed. It’s awesome.

5. Paul Simon singing “Me and Julio”. The best example of no editing, no rehearsals and no screening of the kids on Sesame Street. Also of no hairstyling.

Obviously missing dozens of greats including the Pinball song by the Pointer Sisters, and the great modern performances by people like Feist and REM. What are your faves?

Happy birthday, Sesame Street!

kp