“Last Splash” at 20: The Breeders Ride Again

Original cover of “Last Splash”, 1993.

Full disclosure: From a personal and professional perspective, there is no way to overestimate the significance of the Breeders in my own life and career. If music is a drug, and there have been studies suggesting that the two affects part of the brain in similar ways, then the Breeders were my marijuana, my gateway drug—at least, to the circles in which they ran and rotated. As such, I was thrilled to hear that the original lineup—Kim and Kelley Deal, Josephine Wiggs and Jim McPherson—was reuniting this year to tour in support of the 20^th anniversary of their most well-known album, 1993’s Last Splash (4AD/Elektra).

The “classic” lineup. Front: Jim McPherson and Josephine Wiggs. Back: Kelley and Kim Deal.

The album, which was a touchstone of the “alternative rock” scene of that era, has been re-released in stunning new form by 4AD’s Vaughan Oliver, who’s been established as a master of album cover design and packaging for a quarter-century. The new “LSXX” version contains 46 tracks, spread across three CDs for a very reasonable price of $23; the same material is also available on a sumptuous seven-LP box set for $90—worth every penny for a serious fan. Both versions of the box set contain not only the entire original Last Splash album, but other key documents from that time, including: the full 16-track Stockholm concert that was previously only available in truncated form through the Breeders Digest fan club; 14 tracks recorded in settings ranging from demos and BBC/Peel sessions to guest appearances on compilations like the epochal No Alternative; and all four of the four-song EPs that came immediately before and after the album—1992’s Safari and 1994’s Head To Toe, in addition to the singles for “Cannonball” and “Divine Hammer”. There’s also a 24-page booklet.

Last Splash LSXX

LSXX, interior…

At this writing, the box-set is in pre-order; the CDs start shipping on May 14, but the vinyl doesn’t go out until June/July. For me, as a longtime fan who’s not gotten my copy yet—although “fan” seems imprecise; the old wrestling term “mark” seems more appropriate—just reading through the tracklist brings back fond memories of not only the music itself, but of the often extreme lengths I once went to in order to obtain this material in the good ol’ days before the Internet, before e-commerce, eBay, Amazon and automated shipping.

For me, a Breeders run usually meant a trip to historic Five Points in Jacksonville, the longtime hub of my city’s alternative/indie scene before the action began diversifying into downtown and Springfield while crossing over into other genres. Last Splash was a hit, so it wasn’t necessary to hit up spots like Now Hear This!, since it could be had at the mall, but I got it from there anyway; it was my first trip to that neighborhood, and I also bought the excellent Copacetic album by Velocity Girl that day, starting a relationship with the area (where I now live) that will always persist in some form or another.

Now, getting hold of the EPs was a chore involving phone calls, special orders and the kind of research I only put now into corrupt politicians or would-be business partners. In the ‘90s, my resource for this stuff was a place called the Theory Shop, on Park St. It was owned by the Faircloth sisters; they also owned the legendary Beaches club Einstein-A-Go-Go, where many of the era’s top alternative bands performed and where a whole generation of artists, musicians, writers, fans and entrepreneurs first met each other, slowly knitting a social fabric that now stretches across most of this country. (A lot of those shows were taped, but sadly I’ve never heard any of it; it probably comprises an indispensable auditory document, and hopefully it sees light someday.) They were geniuses for special orders; if they didn’t have it, they could get almost anything, and usually for far less than one was willing to pay. They had the music, and certain curios that are now almost impossible to find: autographed posters, signed Breeders tube socks, even promo copies of the album on green vinyl.

The 1990s were an especially explosive time in the cultural development of a nation that is always pushing hard toward the future, and a big part of that era was what was then called “alternative music”. The term has fallen out of favor now, even retrospectively, as that music’s pervasive impact ultimately overwhelmed whatever outsider pretentions once existed. But, at the time, it was the perfect description not only of the actual music itself, but also of the intent that drove the many artists, producers, record executives, journalists and fans who were involved in its production and proliferation, starting with the man who was, for a time, at the center of the entire music world: the late, great Kurt Cobain. Had he not existed, a significant portion of the last 20 years of music history would quite possibly have never happened, and that fact is of special relevance in regard to the subject at hand.

Last Splash was officially released on August 31, 1993, but audiences were already primed, myself included. I was 15 back then. I was mostly into jazz and rap music; my tastes in rock and roll at that time were strictly limited to AC/DC, Queen, Hendrix and Guns and Roses; I recall enjoying GNR’s Use Your Illusion double-album, which I bought on cassette, way more than any decent human being should, absurdly, decadently, obnoxiously hyperbolically brilliant as it was. (To this day, I’m still kinda sad that the Axl Rose/Bob Guccione, jr. fight never actually happened; if it ever does, someone please inform me.) The first CD I ever bought was the self-titled debut by Rage Against the Machine, and I enjoyed it, but I was in no way culturally-inclined toward the rock music of that time, not at that point. My favorite rock band then was Led Zeppelin and, as much as I love the Breeders, they remain a very close second.

Many of my peers, of course, came from backgrounds were they were able to experience the genesis of what would evolve into “alternative music” holistically, so the effect of its rise was perhaps not as game-changing as it would be for. At that time, I had no idea what had been percolating in the New York, or Boston, or Athens. Seattle? Other than it being the estranged home of Hendrix, I knew nothing about the rock scene there, or anywhere else, until Kurt Cobain got the big push and methodically began programming names into the collective database of pop-culture. Once he started wearing certain t-shirts, covering certain songs and hiring certain bands to open for his band or sit in with them, I, like most people, spent the rest of the decade playing catch-up to what he had already internalized and regurgitated as the music of Nirvana.

Cobain’s infamous description of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as his failed attempt to write a Pixies song was to the eternally-corrupt American music industry what then-president George Bush’s declaration of “a New World Order” was to geopolitics. It was, in both cases, the start of a new era in mass-consciousness, a new formulation of the context in which we all exist. To be a Nirvana fan meant you had to listen to all these bands you’d often never heard of, because you knew their work was crucial to the development of the stuff you like. It’s like how the British Invasion forced mainstream America to take a second look at the Blues, or how hip-hop helped spur a new appreciation of older black musicians ranging from Clyde Stubblefield to Roger Troutman—or, for that matter, how the “New World Order” concept became the global context in which we placed the many obscure, localized conflicts and atrocities that have happened in the subsequent years. While it is entirely coincidental that Bush made the relevant remarks to a special joint-session of Congress on September 11, 1991—which happened to be the day after “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was released, it’s fitting.

By the time Last Splash made its big splash, the Nirvana push was almost two years old, and the; Cobain would be dead within seven months of its release-date, but a significant portion of the time he had left was spent in various ways of giving the Breeders the rub. They were one of the opening acts on Nirvana’s last American tour, and they got perhaps the biggest exposure of their careers when they opened for Nirvana on MTV’s (pre-taped) New Year’s Eve special in 1993, playing the two lead singles from their album, “Cannonball” (released August 9) and “Divine Hammer” (released October 25).

“Cannonball” was released as a single 22 days before the album, which eventually went platinum based largely on that song. To this day, it remains their best-known song, and one of the more recognizable musical documents of that era. It’s been so ubiquitous, in fact, such a pure and perfect song, that it will always threaten to overshadow the depth, diversity and dynamism of their other stuff—a legacy that jumps genres and hews to no particular pre-defined aesthetic. For as the Deal sisters made their way through the business in those years, they did so as themselves; it’s not that their music conformed to people’s expectations, but that the expectations conformed to the music. That seems a trait they shared with Cobain, a trait he recognized, appreciated and did his very best to encourage, on- and off-stage. (Some seven months before Last Splash was released, Cobain praised Pod as one of his favorite albums ever in an interview with Melody Maker; “It’s an epic that will never let you forget ypur ex-girlfriend”, he said, and he was right.)

Cobain was neither the first nor last artist within those circles to meet a tragic, premature and, frankly, suspicious end, but because it was him, the overall effect was much, much worse. Culturally, Cobain’s death was later book-ended by the murders of Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls, but many great talents fell in the interim. The summer of 1994 was a summer of death for the musicians who knew him most closely, many of whom took their own demons on the road, touring through grief and uncertainty. Among the casualties of that brutal year were the Breeders—that is, the version of the band that recorded Last Splash. After Kelley Deal was allegedly caught signing for a FedEx package of heroin, virtually all of the band’s forward momentum to that point was stopped cold as a corpse. She went to rehab, Wiggs and McPherson left to pursue their own projects, and Kim Deal simply remained Kim Deal—the one constant in all of this. Despite all of the great work they’ve done since then, separately and together, they would never again ascend to a commercial plateau anywhere near their peak, which sucks, but life moves fast, and the fickle tastes of the pop-music business move even faster.

The sisters Deal and their colleagues continued recording their own projects for the rest of the ‘90s and then, like a phoenix of sorts, the Breeders was reborn in May 2002. That Title TK happened at all was viewed by some as miraculous, and by others as a sign of the apocalypse, but not even their most hard-core fans (and I count myself among them, maybe even at the tippy-top of the list) would have expected the album to be as unbelievable epic as it was. It’s not just that it was a good album by the Breeders; it was an amazing album by a version of the Breeders that did not exist prior to that point. With its antecedents in the Deals’ solo work in those frustrating years between Breeders albums, the difference between Title TK and Last Splash, in terms of both form and content, was as dramatic as that between Last Splash and Pod. Aside from the vocals and a couple little musical tricks, the three albums might as well have been by three completely different bands, and to a certain extent they were.

It’s now been over a decade since the revamped Breeders lineup strolled into the new century, recording two full-length albums, releasing two albums and an EP in that time while touring the world and landing high-prestige gigs like Coachella and All Tomorrow’s Parties (ATP). Despite this new era of success, some fans remain nostalgic for the “classic” version of the band, with Wiggs and McPherson. With the new lineup gelled and seasoned, it seemed unlikely that would ever happen, but as one has come to expect from the Breeders, anything can happen. As such, the Deal/Deal/Wiggs/McPherson version of the band will reunite and tour this year, in celebration of the 20^th anniversary of the record that made them. I’ve not seen them play in a decade, and I just realized I’ll have to miss their show in Atlanta on May 15; it irritates me beyond words, but that feeling is well-surpassed by the overall joy I feel, just knowing that the Deals are not only alive and well, but thriving. And as they celebrate the 20^th anniversary of their biggest commercial success, it’s really more like a celebration of a scene they helped create—a scene that now holds a dominant position across the scope American culture. As it turned out, with Last Splash, the Breeders were just dipping their toes into the water.

Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell: “March Dies”/”Pandora’s Box”

Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell at CORK

Individually, Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell have crafted two of the more unique brands in this region’s art scene, spanning a range of media in various parts of the country—Pierce as an a painter, musician and maker of short-films, and Isbell as an illustrator and one of the area’s most in-demand tattoo artists. Collectively, they are working together on a new project centered in and around the One Spark event running April 17-21 in downtown Jacksonville. I spoke with them at the CORK Arts District building in Riverside, a place where both men are fixtures and facilitators of the facility’s functions. Each man maintains their own studio spaces in the building.

CORK plays host to their “March Dies” show, which opens on Friday night, March 29. Both men will be displaying some of their newest work for sale, while also offering a variety of items for a silent auction. Live music during and after the show will be provided by Creep City, Burnt Hair (aka Matthew Moyer) and Pierce’s own group, Scared Rabbits. A $10 donation is requested, but not required. All proceeds raised will go to fund the installation project Pierce and Isbell are planning for the epic One Spark crowdfunding event in April. “Pandora’s Box” (# 598) will consist of a large wooden frame with plexiglass panels, creating a large box for attendees to walk through. The artists will use paints to give the box the feel of a stained-glass window, but rendered in their own inimitable style.

I sat down with Pierce in his studio on the 27^th; video of the session can be found on YouTube. He explained that a lot of his motivation/inspiration for doing the piece relates to challenging the sociopolitical status quo, the quiet complacency that has led Americans to embrace extremism while handing over their own civil liberties, all for the sake of fighting an enemy that is spectral at best, and illusory at worse. Having witnessed, first-hand, the chance in people’s attitudes over just the past decade since our disastrous drive into war, Pierce feels obliged to help spur activism through his art.

American English: Matthew Cuban’s transatlantic adventure

As a writer and periodic public speaker, I’ve dabbled in the fine art of spoken-word for years, here and there. If I said I was any good, I’d be lying, but I’ve done just enough of it to inform my deep and sincere appreciation for those who can actually do it well. To that end, I’d say at least two of the best in the business happen to be residents of Northeast Florida. There is, of course, the singularly-skilled Al Letson, whose fans have watched him grow from slam-poetry roots into one-man shows in multiple states, network TV commercials, his own acclaimed show (“State of the Re:Union“) on NPR and even writing comic-books. The other is Matthew “Cuban” Hernandez, who also emerged from the world of slam-poetry and who has also crafted his own unique and compelling career.

That trajectory, which began at open-mic shows in Jacksonville, is now poised to carry him all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, to England, with your help. Hernandez, who is currently working through a three-month spoken-word tour of the west coast, has put together a website at IndieGogo.com (a Kickstarter-type operation) detailing his plans for this year; these plans include not only a slate of scheduled performances in England, but also a project that, believe it or not, is even closer to his heart than his own material. Having already made his name as one of this country’s elite slam-poetry teachers (largely through his work with the Jacksonville youth poetry collective “Shattered Thought”), Hernandez was recently invited to jump the pond and come coach the 2013 UK Youth Slam team, based in historic Leeds. This presents him with not only the opportunity to expand his own personal brand, but to further strengthen the already surprisingly strong connection between the First Coast and the UK.

What Hernandez needs is a dollop of the heavy scratch to fund his adventures, and that is what the web campaign facilitated. Supporters can contribute as little as $1 toward helping Hernandez follow his own dream, while simultaneously helping to school the next generation of spoken-word talent. Larger donations are rewarded with sumptuous swag: $25 gets you two autographed copies of Cuban’s excellent debut CD, which makes a nice gift for fans of the genre; $60 gets you three signed copies; $100 gets you the three CDs, plus a custom-composed poem from him to you. For $500, you name it! So far, almost two dozen people have pledged funds at this early stage of the campaign, mostly in increments of $100, but those numbers are sure to increase–as they should, because Matthew Cuban is an extremely talented artist who really embodies the spirit of Ben Franklin’s words about “doing well by doing good”. One hopes he succeeds, now and in the future.

(Now, this is entirely tangential to the subject at hand, but since we’re discussing spoken-word and the UK, I’ll deviate briefly for purpose of putting over the amazing Brockley-based Kate Tempest, who at just 26 has already distinguished herself as perhaps the world’s #1 performance-poet–a subjective take, yes, but one that is easily arguable. When I heard of Cuban’s project, she was the first person I thought of, so of course one hopes that Hernandez’s run on the island includes at least one summit meeting with the creator of “Cannibal Kids”!)

sheltonhull@gmail.com

Preview: “Music For Meows”, Feb. 16

This is the flyer. You don’t need one, because you’re reading about it already…

The third annual Music For Meows concert is being held next Saturday, February 16, at Jack Rabbits in San Marco, and I’d totally forgotten until Heather Bruce (whom I’ve known for years) hit me with a flyer at Birdies the other night. Well, she didn’t literally hit me, in the projectile sense–she slid it into the space between our drinks on the table. Ms. Bruce has been volunteering with the sponsors, the Stray Cat Saviors Group, since the event’s inception in 2011, and she counts it among the most rewarding experiences of her life. The purpose of the concert is to raise money for organizations working to reduce the number of stray, homeless and feral cats in Northeast Florida, with the ultimate goal of making Jacksonville a strictly no-kill city–certainly a noble undertaking, albeit formidable.

As to the event itself: “Music For Meows” will comprise a silent auction alongside the actual concert, which features a diverse sampling of the region’s musical fare, including the maniac metal-men of Status Faux, the ferocious folk stylings of Lauren Fincham, the ethereal electro-pop of Shoni and the balls-out bombast of All Night Wolves. The Pinz, Xgeezer, Dixie Rodeo and FFN are also playing, while I know nothing about them at present, I’m familiar enough the artists cited to be sure it’s all well-worth the $10 cover, which goes to help the little kitty-cats, anyway, so it’s money well-spent in any case. The organizers are partnering with local groups like First Coast No More Homeless Pets. (To buy tickets online, click this link.) As the kids say, “Meow!”

DVD Review: John Cage: Journeys In Sound

 John Cage: Journeys In Sound (Accentus Music)

The late composer John Cage (1912-1992) is one of those artists whose legacy is almost impossible to overstate. There was a world before Cage came along, and that world remains long after he’s gone, but those worlds are very different, and Cage’s seminal sound-craft is a decisive factor. He didn’t just change the music business; he changed music itself, in the process recalibrating the way humans make music, how we listen to music and how we think about music at the most basic and fundamental levels, from orchestrations and collaborations with other artists to manipulations of instruments and recording techniques. As a composer, I see him really as the heir to Arnold Schoenberg, but that could be debated.

A new DVD from Accentus Music, John Cage: Journeys In Sound, was released last October in celebration of Cage’s 100^th birthday. It takes a look at the world he left behind, demonstrating in several different ways how the man’s influence persists even now, 20 years after his death. Cage is one of the very few modern composers to have a serious presence in the larger pop-culture, known even to people who’ve never heard his music—and there is a lot to be heard. This release results from the collective efforts of two critically-acclaimed documentary filmmakers, Allan Miller and Paul Smaczny, who together led a production crew numbering some three dozen different people and companies. Miller, a two-time Oscar winner, was a longtime friend and colleague of Cage’s, and he comes armed with archival footage dating back to the 1960s, which he and Smaczny augmented with material drawn from a wide variety of sources around the world. The result is not so much a unified whole, but a series of sketches that all revolve around a central theme: “John Cage”.

The film begins as an old-school 1950s TV set opens up from its place in a sunlit field; the footage shows a young Cage employing various household items to create sounds for an audience whose nervous laughter gives away their general confusion—a common reaction. It then cuts to an older Cage, making meticulous edits to a film project he was constructing out of his famous “Chance Operations”. A scene in Times Square captures a cross-section of people talking about Cage on the street; the point seems to be that, while Cage may be obscure, he is hardly as obscure as one might expect, at least in that setting. The sights and sounds of the city, among other locales, acts as

22 different artists are featured in the film, besides Cage himself. Most of these people would be virtually unknown to the casual observer, with some few notable, indeed crucial exceptions. Topping that list are John Lennon and Yoko Ono, who actually appears in two different incarnations, in her youth alongside Lennon and Cage (bearded, Bob Ross-like), then later in life, after she’d long since become a sort of godmother to the New York avant-garde performance-art circles in which she and Cage both operated for years. Now, it’s not like John Cage needs John Lennon, or anyone else, to lend credibility to his work (which was often controversial to the point of being divisive, like an Albert Ayler or a Lou Reed, circa Metal Machine Music), but his very presence in the film, like some kind of omniscient, omnipresent ghost, elevates the whole affair beyond the quotidian; Lennon, as always, flirts with the sublime.

Journeys In Sound is a documentary about a musician, and not an actual music video, although we are treated to interpretations of Cage’s work in multiple contexts and configurations. Those who may find that there’s not enough actual music on the DVD to suit their tastes will be assuaged somewhat by the bonus material, which begins with a performance of Cage’s infamous exercise in ambient noise, “4’33”, conducted by the great David Tudor. The Schlagquatett Koln applies their percussive skills to Cage’s “Second Construction”, while pianist Steffen Schleiermacher performs a piece from Cage’s “Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano”, followed by his “Water Music”; the latter two pieces really touch on those aspects of Cage’s artistry that has resonated the most contemporaneously. The set is rounded out by interviews with Cage, his longtime companion Merce Cunningham—a former dancer for Martha Graham who later emerged as arguably the leading choreographer of modern dance—and artist Robert Rauschenberg, all of whom were giants in their respected fields but who together pioneered a whole new concept of multidisciplinary art. The DVD booklet also includes a five-page interview with Miller, which helps put the film in context.

John Cage: Journeys In Sound will not add too much to the knowledge-base of serious Cage fans, but it offers a very nice introduction to a man whose work often defies explanation, in part because so many skilled musicians themselves made the effort to put Cage’s influence in their own words. If Cage himself were alive, or could be sent a copy of the DVD in whatever dimension he presently occupies, he would probably enjoy it very much. Of course, if one can construct a documentary whose very subject could watch it and learn something, that is the mark of success—a mark that Messrs. Miller and Smaczny have certainly earned.

sheltonhull@gmail.com

DVD Review: “Women Of Honor” (ROH)

Women Of Honor (Ring of Honor DVD)

In my opinion, 2012 was one of the best and most productive years ever for the unique artform that is women’s professional wrestling, particularly in the American market, where the ladies have had to struggle for acceptance and respect from fans, the media and indeed the industry itself. But they have succeeded, and then some. At this moment, the active roster of women’s wrestlers in this country is probably the strongest it has ever been, and at the forefront of that movement is Shimmer Women Athletes.

Shimmer has been running its own live events since 2005, as exhaustively-documented on the more than 50 volumes of DVDs released since then. They’ve recently partnered with the Florida-based Shine promotion, whose Internet pay-per-views feature a number of Shimmer mainstays. The new and steadily-evolving “iPPV” market has already been a serious boon to independent promotions over the past couple of years, allowing them to project their products to fans worldwide with minimal overhead, increasing exposure for the companies and boosting revenue for bookers and workers alike. But a significant factor in Shimmer’s success has come through their partnership with Ring Of Honor, which is currently the third-biggest wrestling promotion in America, but stands in good position to eclipse the chronically underperforming TNA/Impact Wrestling in the next couple of years.

During its decade in operation, ROH has put forth some of the very best matches of the 21^st century; their former world champions include currently WWE/TNA stars Daniel Bryan, CM Punk, Samoa Joe, Seth Rollins and Austin Aries, while current champion Kevin Steen has been on fire all year. “Women Of Honor” showcases the best of the collaboration between Shimmer and Ring Of Honor. It also functions as a nice introduction to the women’s wrestling scene in America and its leading talents.

It’s worth noting that, while the stars women’s wrestling strive to be regarded on the same level as the men, of course, in my opinion certain differences between the genders result overall in products that are fairly similar, but very much unique and distinct from each other, while being equally compelling on their own accord. Not everyone cares for the joshi game; many wrestling fans can barely sit through five minutes of Divas action on Monday Night Raw, let alone 20-30 minutes. The apostates can’t even appreciate one of the old Manami Toyota-Aja Kong classics, which basically defined the art-form at its peak; they would have no use for the material discussed herein, and that is entirely their loss.

The ROH DVDs have none of the sweet documentary-style content associated with WWE releases; they are simply compilations of matches, so there’s no backstory of promos to provide context, but the fan-base would already be up to speed on all that. (Curiously, WWE has never done a serious anthology of its own rich women’s wrestling history, which extends from the Fabulous Moolah down to AJ Lee. One would presume that such a thing would be easy to make, and a solid seller; it seems inevitable.) What this disc does offer is more top-notch joshi action than you’re likely to see anywhere, outside of Shimmer itself.

The double-disc set includes 33 matches, featuring 25 different women; there are also three mixed-tag matches. Allison Danger appears eight times. Sara Del Rey appears 15 times. Another standout here is Lacey, who also appears in 15 matches as a singles competitor, and also in a tag-match with Del Rey against Daizee Haze and Awesome Kong. Lacey, who retired to earn a Master’s degree in Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine, and who’s now working on her PhD in China, was a major figure in the evolution of both Shimmer and Ring of Honor. Her dealings with Jimmy Jacobs made for one of ROH’s all-time enduring storylines, while in Shimmer she teamed with Rain to form the infamous Minnesota Homewrecking Crew, which was the dominant heel tag-team of Shimmer’s early years, the equivalent of today’s Canadian Ninjas (Nicole Matthews and Portia Perez). Lacey, Haze and Del Rey were the early triumvirate around which the ROH women’s division was built, and this DVD set captures those formative years nicely. Any Lacey fans out there will want this; looking back, thinking mainly of promos and angles she was involved in, one forgets how good Lacey was in the ring.

Certainly the most important thing of all about “Women Of Honor” is that it is probably the closest thing wrestling fans will ever have to an anthology devoted to the work of Daizee Haze, who wrestles in 23 of the 33 matches collected here, including all three mixed-tag matches (all against Lacey, by the way). Besides just wrestling, she was also a trainer for ROH and Shimmer, and she main-evented the latter company’s first four shows; she (along with Del Rey) also helped bring the joshi scene into Chikara.

Haze (who is also notable for being one of the few pro-wrestlers whose real name is not public knowledge) abruptly stepped away from the ring in August 2011, and it’s been almost impossible to find out anything about what happened to her. As such, the best year yet for women’s wrestling in America has taken place with one of its chief architects on the sidelines. One hopes she returns, but whether she does or not, her presence makes this DVD essential. There are also matches featuring the likes of Allison Danger (Steve Corino’s sister), Sarah Stock (aka Dark Angel, aka Sarita in TNA), Alexis Laree (aka Mickie James), Serena Deeb, Sumie Sakai, Jetta, Eden Black, Tracy Brooks, Mercedes Martinez, Nikki Roxx, Persephonie, Jennifer Blake, Ashley Lane, Tomoko Nakagai, Hiroyo Matsumoto, Ayumi Kurihara and former Shimmer champions MisChif, Madison Eagles and Cheerleader Melissa. The whole thing’s a lot of fun to watch, having seen how far all these ladies have already come Now that the industry has taken notice of their abilities, it will be even more fun to see what happens next.

sheltonhull@gmail.com

Lost In the Stacks: Notes on jazz finds at the Jacksonville Public Library

The title of this piece is stolen from the name of a radio show on WJCT-FM, 89.9 in Jacksonville, Florida. “Lost In the Stacks” is hosted by Matthew Moyer and Andrew Coulon, two of the librarians at the Jacksonville Public Library downtown. The show revolves around music that can be found in the library’s collection, and I was fortunate to be invited as a guest one week in May 2012, as we previewed the Jacksonville Jazz Festival. I’d intended for this to have been online by then, to supplement the material discussed on that broadcast—that did not happen, but better late than never.

SDH at the WJCT studios, May 10, 2012. (Note that I’m holding a set of drum-sticks hand-crafted and signed by the legendary drummer/teacher Von Barlow, who left them there for someone else.)

The tracks referred to here were all obtained via compact disc, and almost all of it can still be found at there. The JPL held a pretty extensive stock of vinyl records, archival-preserved, augmenting that as the CD era took flight in the 1980s. By the early-‘90s, when I first started browsing those stacks in a serious way, the library had one of the most extensive holdings of choice material to be found anywhere—be it a storefront or a private collection. And bear in mind, there was plenty to go around: WJCT had a literal ton or two of records and CDs; UNF still has an excellent collection (in part because they kept their vinyl); local record stores still thrived, and there remained solid commercial chains like Coconuts.

When Barnes & Noble opened in Mandarin, they hired saxophonist Joe Yorio to stock their music section, and he might have ended up doing the same at Borders; I always appreciated his recommendation of Coltrane’s Afro-Blue Impressions, which were the first album I’d heard by him that I loved almost as much as the singular Interstellar Space. It was at places like that where I caught up on the new stuff; at local record stores like Stripmine Records, I’d fill in the gaps of the more obscure labels and musicians—your Hat Art, Tzadik, Black Saint, Leo, Enja material. But my main sources remained the radio and the library.

Like WJCT, the JPL began divesting itself of vinyl as the century turned. I recall buying a dozen first-pressings of Glenn Gould from the library for, I think, seven dollars—since misplaced, but worth a couple hundred if ever found. The jazz stuff had already been liquidated, all for 50 cents or a buck each. But the library has nonetheless continued to thrive in the digital future, or present, whatever. A large portion of my life was spent on the second floor of the old Haydon Burns building, which housed the library’s main branch for 40 years, walking up and down the stacks, neck craned 45 degrees to the right while edging slowly sideways, scanning the discs lined up vertically, efficiently. Back then, it took about 15 minutes to look at everything once, without touching anything, which is not possible; 15 minutes really meant an hour, for practical purposes, and you couldn’t bring coffee in with you.

Now, the music collection is split—the classical stuff (which is pretty nice) is on the third floor (closer to the reference books relevant to that subject), and the rest is down on ground level. It is situated perfectly, in the back; one must walk through the jazz section to reach the Young Adults section, and that’s a good thing for the youth, because it’s their birthright, anyway. Now the CDs are lined up in such a way that you have to flip through each disc, or grab a handful at a time to scrutinize them; it takes a little more time, but you can bring coffee now. Now, as then, folks often come prompted by Bob Bednar of WJCT; his playlists are some of the best ever, anywhere. Everyone has their favorites—stuff they heard there that might have otherwise gone unheard for years, if not forever. The web has facilitated a much faster route to learning about jazz, but there is nothing more holistic than a good public library, and Jacksonville is lucky to have a very good one. My picks (randomly listed) would include:

Charlie Christian, “Waiting On Benny”: Charlie Christian wasn’t the first great jazz guitarist in history—there was Eddie Lang, Les Paul, Freddie Green, Django Reinhardt, Oscar Aleman and others. He was not even the first to electrify the jazz guitar; he was, however, the man who made it stick. He was a game-changer in every aspect of his short career. The library doesn’t have much of his stuff—not the epic take of “Topsy” from Minton’s, nor his sessions with Lester Young—but his run with Benny Goodman’s sextet is well-documented. The high point was, in fact, an afterthought, hence the title: the leader was late, so the remaining five jammed out for five minutes until he showed up. It’s one of the greatest examples of small-group jazz in the immediate pre-war era, ruthlessly swinging the 4/4.

Lennie Tristano, “Turkish Mambo”: The music of Lennie Tristano was a revelation for me from the very first second, as it remains. The library has a CD of Rhino’s repackaging of two Tristano records made for Atlantic Records about 50 years ago. His was a very mathematically precise sort of jazz; he trained Lee Konitz, Warne Marsh, Billy Bauer and Sheila Jordan, among others, and was friends with people like Charles Mingus, Max Roach and George Russell. I was a big Anthony Braxton fan, and I’d gotten a copy of an album of Tristano songs he did from the late great Stripmine Records (its second incarnation, in Five Points). So I grabbed the Tristano disc, which contains some of the most sublime piano music you’ll ever heard. Folks who say the man played without feeling are delusional. On the first album he plays around with tape-speed, speeding-up and slowing-down certain tracks for effect; the second is straight-ahead solo piano. “Turkish Mambo” is a masterpiece—Tristano overdubs three (or four?) tracks of himself, each in a different time signature. Multi-layered, but seamless. Even the metronome swings!

Sidney Bechet, “The Sheik of Araby”: I remember wondering why the library would bother to have two copies of an old Bluebird compilation of tracks by a man largely unknown outside of musicians and critics—but then I heard it, and understood. Bechet is one of the great characters in jazz, and the comp cut a wide swath, leading off with the definitive version of “Maple Leaf Rag”. The track cited here features Bechet overdubbed on all the instruments using the primitive technology of the monaural era, literally cutting new tracks onto the disc, step-by-step. Any mistakes he made could not be fixed, so he didn’t make any. This was the beginning of so much of what we take for granted, in terms of how music is made today.

Sidney Bechet, “Sweet Georgia Brown”: Fast-forward 17 years, and Bechet is in France, a leader of the vibrant expat jazz scene in Europe. Bechet would be dead in a year, but this track, recorded live in Paris, shows that he retained his absolute mastery of the soprano saxophone until the very end. Never has this tune been swung at a faster tempo, never were more notes stacked against the harmony; it was the intersection of Bechet’s NOLA roots and the modernism he spawned. The credible solos of trumpet, trombone and piano are just scenery—the song belongs to Bechet, and drummer Francois “Moustache” Gallipedes.

Django Reinhardt, “Blues For Barclay”: When one speaks of jazz in Paris, thoughts go immediately to the gypsy who changed the game singlehandedly—literally. In 1947, Django Reinhardt brought his quintet into the studios of Blue Star Records and made his first serious recordings on electric guitar. He’d risked death by continuing to perform in occupied France during the war, caught the bop bug, came to New York and was basically rejected by the modernists; his sound was too soft, too dependent on syncopation, too acoustic to be heard in a bop setting. So he came back to Paris with a chip on his shoulder, haunted by not having gotten to assert himself as the rightful heir to Charlie Christian, and you can hear it in damn near every note he played for the remaining six years of his life. The CD Peche ala Mouche collects the cream of electrified Django from 1947-53. To this day, it remains the most slept-on aspect of the man’s legacy, and the CD is out-of-print; I was lucky enough to cop a disc of the 1947 stuff in Chicago, and some of the rest is on YouTube. The song mentioned above was written for Eddie Barclay, who produced the session and was, overall, an invaluable supporter of jazz in Europe, and European Jazz as well. Note the presence of silky clarinetist Hubert Rostaing and Andre Jourdan, one of three amazing French drummers who put in work on these sessions. This is the sound of a man playing for his life, and succeeding.

Larry Coryell/Elvin Jones, “Stiff Neck”: Even five years after first hearing this, it’s still usually the first thing I listen to in the morning; it’s like orange juice for your ears. Elvin Jones was bulletproof for years; his run with the Coltranes (John and Alice) cemented him as the kind of drummer who could do anything—trios with Sonny Rollins, orchestras with Gil Evans, the Pawnbroker soundtrack with Quincy Jones, whatever. He could show up in a movie and just randomly solo in a cowboy outfit, or run through 10-minute fusion workouts in a mesh t-shirt, white leather shoes and disco pants, and it was all good.

Lionel Hampton/Gene Krupa, “Air Mail Special”: It would be impossible to pick one person as my favorite jazz musician ever, but if I were pressed I’d defer to Krupa, since my studies of jazz music initially began as a quest for Gene Krupa records. Damian Lee sold me a Columbia repackaging of Krupa’s epic post-war trio, and it was off to the races. A common fallacy holds that Swing Era icon Krupa, who was in the 1930s the go-to guy for both Benny Goodman and George Gershwin, failed to adapt to post-war modernism, that bop left him in the dust. Untrue. While he could never be construed as a bebopper proper, the man carved his own highly relevant path through that era. Gene Krupa’s 1950s recordings are exceptional.

Sonny Rollins, “What Is This Thing Called Love?”: I’ll be honest—the music of Sonny Rollins took a while to grow on me. I became familiar with his work first through connection to Max Roach, who co-led the quintet with Clifford Brown where Rollins first became a big name in jazz. Rollins’ solo career had already begun before Brown, Richie Powell and their wives were killed in a car accident in summer 1956, but it really began in earnest as well after that; he and Roach both emerged from that tragedy as different, better musicians. Some of their best work was done together in the subsequent two years: Max Roach +4, Jazz In ¾ Time, Saxophone Colossus, The Freedom Suite. All this was nice, and moreso later, but for me what really set me straight about Sonny Rollins’ genius was his awesome 1957 double-album A Night At the Village Vanguard, which is arguably the best recording ever made at that historic NYC establishment. (Similar arguments can be made for the albums made there by John Coltrane and Bill Evans, both of which were made four years after Rollins’. The Cole Porter standard, which is taken full-bore for nearly 15 minutes, also marks one of the first real displays of Elvin Jones’ genius as a drummer. In the mid-50s, Rollins got to work with Roach, Shelly Manne and Art Blakey, among others, but it’s Jones who stands out as maybe the most versatile jazz drummer ever. The whole album is great, but it starts on the best foot possible.

Chick Corea, “Matrix”: Blue Note’s Best of Chick Corea compilation features highlights of his run fronting mostly acoustic trios for the label. I’m not the biggest fan of his stuff, but I like that era, and “Matrix” (from the 1968 album Now He Sings, Now He Sobs) is one of my favorite piano trio recordings ever. Much of the credit is due to his colleagues, bassist Miroslav Vitous and drummer Roy Haynes.

Machito, “Tanga”: The library once had a Verve CD entitled “The Original Mambo Kings” (taking off from the movie released around that same time in the 1990s), and it remains my favorite Latin-Jazz album ever, even though I haven’t heard it in 15 years. A lot of material would just disappear from there, and this was one of them. I don’t really blame them, because it was a great album that, like Peche A La Mouche, is ridiculously hard to find even now, let alone back in the days of special-orders. Still though, they could have just taped it, and not robbed all the rest of us of its pleasures.

Don Byas/Slam Stewart, “I Got Rhythm”: I’d heard a little Slam Stewart’s stuff with Slim Gaillard, whose nonsensical “Vout” style of slang reportedly remained a favorite with the Reagans well into their dotage. Stewart was known for vocalizing along with his with upright bass, sounding much like a bow being dragged across the low strings, creating its own sort of harmony alongside the string-plucking. It was an acquired taste, one that frankly didn’t resonate with me most of the time. But there were two occasions when Slam Stewart was The Man, and this five minute duet with pioneering bop tenorman Don Byas (who can also be heard on the Charlie Christian bootleg sessions) was one of them. The other was a gloomy, ethereal solo version of “Angel Eyes” (written by Matt Dennis, and old running buddy of my old friend, the late great Robert Eskew, whom I met through Alan Justiss).

Gil Evans Orchestra, “La Nevada”: Having noted the supreme versatility of Elvin Jones earlier, here’s another example. Out Of the Cool (Impulse!, 1961) was the greatest Gil Evans album; the man best-known for arranging Miles Davis’ big-band epics was a star in his own right, and “La Nevada” marks the peak of his compositional and orchestral achievements—15 minutes of swirling, throbbing, pulsing perfection from an all-star band driven by Jones, with some assistance from Dizzy Gillespie alumnus Charlie Persip. (Incidentally, the two also turn up together, along with Art Blakey and Philly Joe Jones, on the impossible-to-find Gretsch Drum Night At Birdland album.)

Turtle Island String Quartet, “Milestones”: In the 1980s, Turtle Island String Quartet took jazz to new levels by arranging a number of classic tunes for their group. Songs like “A Night In Tunisia” and “On Green Dolphin Street” not only opened the door to new perceptions of jazz, but crucially made the classical world more accessible to my young ears—a process accelerated shortly after by Glenn Gould and Martha Argerich. Among the classic TISQ efforts of that era are their versions of Bud Powell’s “Tempus Fugit” (which is hard enough, arranged for solo piano, let alone a string quartet) and the track I consider their masterpiece, “Milestones”, a song that always lends to excitement. They played the song at a much faster tempo than the original version, and the finger-picking is just brilliant. When I got to see them perform at the Church of the Good Shepherd (as part of the Riverside Fine Arts Series), it was like a pilgrimage, and one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen.

Joe Lovano/Ed Blackwell, “Modern Man”: For me, all this music represented seismic shifts in my cultural consciousness, but almost all of it was classic material from the Swing Era on through 1950s post-bop and the broader explorations that would culminate with Free Jazz in the 1960s. If the library had a weakness, in terms of their jazz collection, it was that there just wasn’t much new stuff; it was not the place to catch up on the innovations of my own time; that’s why places like Barnes and Noble and Borders became so useful. But, as one might expect, the little bit they did have was the best. Joe Lovano’s album From The Soul (1991) was the point of a spear being thrust by a resurgent Blue Note Records into the future, and it’s one of the finest jazz albums ever recorded, in any era. It was a lineup of future hall-of-famers, most of whom had yet to make their greatest contributions to the music, and one aging legend who took that moment to make a final stand that will never be forgotten. Lovano was joined by bassist Dave Holland, who went on to lead arguably best large jazz group on the planet, and pianist Michel Petrucciani, whose legacy as the heir to Bill Evans’ absolute dominance of jazz piano remained unimpeached until his premature death in 1999. The opening track, “Evolution”, catches the whole band on fire, but neither Holland nor Petrucciani appear on “Modern Man”. Instead, that track is a duet between Lovano and drummer Ed Blackwell, who was probably best-known for his work with Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, Archie Shepp and Mal Waldron.

Dinah Washington, “Cry Me A River”: No one sounded like her—maybe the purest, most resonant voice in the entire history of music. Like all the great singers, hers was an utterly unique vocal instrument. Dinah Washington died way too young, but the stuff she left behind will last until the end of time, starting with “Cry Me A River”. It defies my ability to explain why’s it such a game-changer.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; May 30, 2012

One Man’s Treasure: Sonny Sivack, painting his way up.

[Update, July 5, 2012: I received word earlier today that Sonny Sivack had passed away following a three-week stint in the ICU at St. Vincent's Hospital. My condolences to his friends and family, and my thanks to him for the handful of conversations I got to have with him. He was a good guy. RIP]

Objectively-speaking, there is nothing about the art of Sonny Sivack (not to be confused with SAVAK) that gives any indication of his amateur status, other than his preference for recycled paper and other found materials. It defies belief to appreciate that he hasn’t even been doing this for six months yet. Now, his presence at places like First Wednesday ArtWalk, First Friday in Five Points and the Riverside Arts Market promises to take his creativity to new levels.

All this marks a dramatic shift in Sivack’s personal fortunes, while opening the door for positive changes to a life that has been, for lack of a better word, difficult. A Duval native, the 51 year-old Sivack is a regular fixture in Riverside, as is his Korean-born wife of 26 years, whom he describes as “more American than Korean”; some call her “the Ghost Lady”, but the hipsters who predominate in the neighborhood call her “Yoko No-No”. It is unclear how that moniker strikes her, or if she’s even aware of it, but he says she’s been “very supportive” of his art career, which began completely by accident.

Sivack’s life began falling apart many years ago, after sustaining serious head injuries during a training accident while serving in the US Army. “I hear ringing and stuff all the time,” he says. “I have to take medicine and stuff to calm it down and all.” The resulting permanent disability, along with other health problems, makes it difficult to find or keep a regular job; he can’t walk or stand very long, so whenever you see him, he’s probably sitting down.

Husband and wife are both long-time members of the city’s homeless population, which currently numbers nearly 5,000, with more joining them every day. It turns out that this part of his story—the “back-story” to this art-related “angle”—has been documented before, by the estimable Florida Times-Union back in October 2005. “They use the surrounding brick walls to dry their clothes and socks. A grocery cart sits off to the side, serving as the chest of drawers that holds bags of clothes, bottles, newspapers and styrofoam cups. Sometimes they eat. Sometimes they don’t.” That story was about the Hope Team, an outreach project for the Sulzbacher Center that delivers bagged lunches and other essentials to the displaced in downtown Jacksonville. (Maybe Sivack’s art will prove useful to future fund-raising efforts.)

These days, Sivack pushes a baby-stroller that functions as much as a walker as it does as a cart for transporting possessions, sometimes including a dog but more lately his art supplies. He found the materials—paints, colored pencils, paper—beside a dumpster in Avondale late last year, and that may well turn out to be the most interesting stories of “bonepicking” (collecting found objects thrown away by others) you’re likely to ever hear.

Less than a year into his new career, and Sivack has already picked up one powerful and influential patron in the local art scene: the infamous Lee Harvey, who is himself undergoing a sort of creative renaissance following a successful battle against cancer. “I think it’s a fascinating story. Sonny is very talented,” he says. Sitting at a Starbucks, within a few yards of Sivack (his wife was not around), Harvey held court like he does, while watching him add to a painting he did on an ancient pull-down projector screen (a piece he ended up selling for $300 a couple weeks later). Sivack is particular—he only paints with watercolors, and he only paints on either recycled or found materials.

“If Sonny was selling in a gallery, he’d be making money,” he adds. “Given more time, and the materials, Sonny could be a professional artist—and this is the right neighborhood to be doing this in. He’s a very nice man; he’s having a rough time, but it just goes to show that just because someone is going through a rough time, they can still make beautiful art. “It’s a blessing that he found those art supplies—things happen for a reason,” says Harvey, whose attitudes toward religion are well-known.

Having discovered this newfound talent, Sivack is wasting no time. By his own account, he has already completed about 60 paintings in the first four months of his career. Storing them would be a huge problem, if not for the fact that he’s already sold them all to collectors around the neighborhood, at prices ranging from $25 to $100; he keeps pictures of them all on a flash drive. “It’s been a real eye-opener, I tell ya—it’s been a 180-degree turn,” he says. “I used to have a bunch of free time on my hands, being disabled and all. Now I wake up in the morning, clock-in and join the world, you know?”

Even if Sonny Sivack doesn’t prove to be the next great folk-art sensation, art itself has already transformed his life, in a way that nothing before was able to do. “[Disability] set me back for a while,” he says, “then I gave it all up, really. No family, local boy; I’ve always been out by myself, like a traveling nomad. I pretty much gave up on life, and look what God’s given me!” We often hear the old cliché about one man’s trash being another man’s treasure; Sivack is here to remind us that, trash or treasure, it’s ultimately about the man.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 24, 2012

Jazz Festival Preview: Sonny Rollins

The Lion In Winter: Sonny Rollins, the last best hope of Hard Bop

 

Sonny Rollins, who headlines this year’s Jacksonville Jazz Festival, was born in New York City on September 7, 1930. His arrival is a triumph for local jazz fans who’d lobbied for his inclusion for years, perhaps as long as the festival itself has been in existence. I know that, in my ongoing conversations on the subject of jazz with Bob Bednar, host of WJCT’s “This Is Jazz” program (and recently a member of the festival’s Hall of Fame), Rollins’ name was in circulation since the late-1990s. We’ve both mentioned his name repeatedly, not that doing so was necessarily necessary, due to his legend status—but, then again, it’s only happening in 2012, and we should consider ourselves lucky to have had the chance for so long.

In the years just after Charlie Parker’s premature death in 1955, Rollins emerged as the dominant new saxophone star of the jazz world. He was then a member of the great Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet, sharing the front-line with Clifford Brown, whose meteoric rise was halted by a 1956 car-wreck that also killed the group’s pianist, Richie Powell—whose older brother Bud Powell was in fact one of Rollins’ old employers. When Max Roach pushed through his grief to reemerge with a new band, just a few months later, Rollins was key to its sound. Max Roach + 4 found Rollins out-front with Kenny Dorham, one of the most underrated trumpeters ever, with Roach now taking unprecedented amounts of solo space; the Max Roach that most jazz fans think of today really began in 1956.

Rollins’ work on Roach’s seminal Jazz In ¾ Time helped cement the drummer’s place as a leading figure in the jazz mainstream, while adding further shine to Rollins’ reputation, which even then, in his 20s, was approaching mythic status. The years 1956-‘62 saw him cranking out a string of perfect records: Sonny Rollins+4, Newk’s Time, Tour de Force, etc. For the newcomer who wishes to hear the purest distillation of Sonny Rollins at his peak, one is advised to immediately get ahold of Live At the Village Vanguard. It was his first time recording in what would become, in time, his ideal setting—the trio.

Also, Tenor Madness featured a rare recorded meeting between Rollins and John Coltrane, who was also then beginning to get a serious push as well. Theirs was not a rivalry, so much as it was a case of two relentless perfectionists evolving on parallel tracks. Saxophone Colossus was the Rollins sound encapsulated; “Blue 7” features a solo by Roach that is a masterpiece of minimalism. Way Out West sees Rollins reinventing shopworn tunes of the Old West, while drummer Shelly Manne turns in one of his all-time finest efforts.

The Freedom Suite marks Rollins’ first experiments recording in a more expansive style, a form he’d return to often in later years. His trio includes Roach and bassist Oscar Pettiford, in one of his last major efforts before dying just a couple years later. It also led to a favorite musical curiosity: While waiting for Rollins to arrive at the studio, Roach and Pettiford jammed on the standard “There Will Never Be Another You”, which is 1) the high-point of Pettiford’s recorded legacy, 2) one of the greatest bass solos ever recorded in jazz, and 3) one of only a handful of recordings documenting Max Roach’s singular style when playing brushes.

Rollins returned from sabbatical with a new band built around the sumptuous harmonies of guitarist Jim Hall, who’d spent the previous period making key contributions to two of the most unique groups (in terms of their sound and approach to composition—Chico Hamilton’s quintet and the original Jimmy Giuffre Trio. The title-track of the group’s first record, The Bridge (1962), sounds exactly like what it is: a formal announcement that Sonny Rollins was back, and ready to reclaim a tenor crown that Coltrane effectively abdicated with his brilliant but polarizing excursions in the stellar regions of free jazz.

One of the true jewels in Rollins’ output, and one that doesn’t get enough attention, is his 1966 collaboration with master post-bop trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, East Broadway Rundown. The 20-minute title track evokes “The Freedom Suite” with its length—which wasn’t nearly as big a deal by then, just four years later; credit Coltrane for that—but the sound was completely different. Typically for Rollins, there is no piano; he probably became convinced of the value of this approach while working with Roach, who abandoned the piano chair entirely in ’58. This quartet also includes bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones, who were at that time also the backbone of Coltrane’s quartet—surely no coincidence. The sound is also reminiscent of Ornette Coleman’s quartet, circa Change Of the Century.

Incredibly, there may be many jazz festival fans for whom Sonny Rollins is actually an unfamiliar name. When dealing with a man who’s recorded at least 38 albums to date (not counting the copious live sets, bootlegs and sideman gigs), one may be challenged to find an appropriate jumping-in point. While any record makes for a good jumping-off point, the essence of Rollins’ artistry can be gleaned from an excellent double-disc set released by the Concord Music Group to commemorate his 80^th birthday in 2010. The Definitive Sonny Rollins on Prestige, Riverside and Contemporary includes 21 of the key tracks recorded between 1951 and 1958, including “Blue 7”, “Tenor Madness” and “the Freedom Suite”.

Rollins’ most recent album is Road Shows, Vol. 2, released last September. Rollins has continued to record and tour into his ninth decade, winning three Grammys in the 21^st century so far. For those of you who are truly newbies to Rollins’ music, there is no better place to start than the Main Branch of the Jacksonville Public Library, which has almost every major recording by or featuring Sonny Rollins; you can check out his entire career, fit it all into a canvas tote, and (if so inclined) load it all up onto your computer. It’s some of the best music ever made.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 16, 2012

Jax Jazz Fest preview: Madeleine Peyroux

[For the May/June issue of Arbus.]

The Pop-Jazz Prototype:

Madeleine Peyroux: A Musical Change-Agent

 

For years, Madeleine Peyroux (born April 19, 1974) has been a darling of public radio, a perdurable presence in every Starbucks, Borders and Barnes & Noble—a singer-songwriter who anticipated the massive shift in the music industry over the past decade. Her evolution from anonymously busking on Parisian streets to global acclaim is a story she’s told herself, in songs written for five albums on three different labels. The reason it took so long for Peyroux to get over in the business is that it simply was not possible when she started, 20 years ago; there was no market structure to support and sustain her artistry.

In a sense, the story of Madeleine Peyroux can be viewed the story of seismic shifts in the industry itself. Her presence as one of the top acts at this year’s Jacksonville Jazz Festival can be also viewed as a shift in the festival, which is making more of an effort to embrace the traditional jazz artists favored by fans and critics alike. Peyroux has always been one those artists hard-core jazz fans would have loved to see here, but never thought they actually would. When her name popped out from the lineup sheet, it was like a pleasant hallucination.

After three albums for Rounder, Standing On the Rooftop is Peyroux’s first for Decca Records, a legendary British imprint founded in 1929 and now owned by Vivendi/Universal. It holds a special place in the hearts of jazz fans for its early advocacy of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, but it has also been a major contributor to the American vocal tradition, in all its many forms. The Decca catalog is, arguably, the most extensive cross-section of American and British indigenous music ever compiled. (This year’s jazz festival’s headliners, Sonny Rollins and Chick Corea, are also currently signed to Decca.)

Decca has maintained that tradition into the present. Peyroux, an early auteur of the new hybrid style, joins a roster featuring Melody Gardot, Sarah Harmer, Sonya Kitchell, Imeda May, Jane Monheit, Krystina Myles, Hayley Westerna, Laura Wright and Nikki Yanofsky, in addition to a whole crop of up-and-coming crossover classical talents.

These ladies are the latest in a line that has included many of the all-time greatest female singers of jazz, blues, pop, gospel, country and classical music, people like the Andrews Sisters, Tori Amos, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Judy Garland, Connie Boswell, Jenny Lou Carson (first woman to write a #1 hit country song) Patsy Cline, Rosemary Clooney, Kathleen Ferrier, Ella Fitzgerald (youngest woman to lead a big-band), Jane Froman, Marilyn Horne, Kathy Kirby, Brenda Lee, Peggy Lee, Ute Lemper, Annie Lennox, Loretta Lynn, Vera Lynn, Dolly Parton, Leontyne Price, Lita Roza (first British singer to chart #1, with “how Much Is That Doggie In the Window?”), Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Kitty Wells (the first female country star) and Aziza Mustafa Zadeh. Note also that Billie Holiday, to whom Peyroux’s voice has been so frequently compared (although it’s changed so much over the years), recorded one album for Decca, The Lady Sings (1956), at their famous studio at Manhattan’s Pythian Temple.

For this album, Peyroux—who started out singing alone on streetcorners—has assembled a sterling cast of collaborators, including pianist Allen Toussaint, violinist Jenny Scheinman, guitar master Marc Ribot and Meshell Ndegeocello. Listeners will by now have an established idea of Peyroux the singer, but she challenges those perceptions with her most adventurous album yet, taking bold risks with an already-lucrative commercial brand. Producer Craig Street is best-known for his work on Norah Jones’ first album, arguably the most important record of the 21^st century, as well as people like John Legend and Cassandra Wilson. He crafted a great sound, dense and haunting, but clear—a fine sonic foundation for Peyroux’s voice.

Peyroux wrote or co-wrote eight of the album’s 12 songs. Scheinman co-wrote two, as did David Batteau; “The Kind You Can’t Afford” was co-written with Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman. The album opens with “Martha My Dear”, a Lennon/McCartney chestnut. “Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love” is a sleek, sophisticated lullaby for grown-ups, written by Ribot and Wyston Hugh Auden. The title-track sounds almost like indie-rock—anthemic affirmations over dissonant chords. When she sings “I have conquered all my fears”, the listener believes her.

For this writer, the album peaks with Peyroux’s lurching, ethereal cover of Robert Johnson’s “Love In Vain”—one of the finest things she has ever recorded. Even experiments like the soft summery funk of “Meet Me In Rio” come off nicely; it’s iPod-ready for beach runs. But through it all, that voice is like the center-line on a road stretching and winding through past eras of music history, on into those unfolding as we speak. With a serious new album on a major jazz label, the years ahead may be her best yet. And even if she never quite eclipses the brilliance of Dreamland, to simply survive, thrive and progress is a victory, in and of itself.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 16, 2012

 

Notes on Names Divine and Christopher Bell

[I’ve seen lots of musical acts so far this year—the more, the better. They’ve been mostly local, but plenty have come through on tour; here’s a few quick notes about two of my favorites:]

On a recent Monday evening—Feb. 13, to be exact—I had the great pleasure of watching a band from Chicago called Names Divine perform at Burro Bar. It was their second time playing this city, but surely not their last, as local audiences have already taken to them, and vice-versa. It was a crowd filled largely with other musicians. The Infinitesmal Records crew was out; bought a Kevin Lee Newberry CD, which is excellent and well-worth having.

Names Divine is a large band, led by singer/guitarist Kendra Calhoun, a spectral young woman who’s the only person I’ve ever heard cite Jendak as their favorite musician. Lukas Wolever played a drum-set that appeared to be missing its bass drum; it is unclear whether that was a matter of course or a concession to the inefficiencies of van-travel. The band has at times numbered up to nine; the show at Burro had seven, all shrouded in dark, a whooping whirlwind of sound built around Calhoun’s guitar, the clarinet of Kalina Malyszko (which rhymes with “Zbyszko”) and Ike Floor’s violin.

Names Divine has a two-song EP (containing the songs “Something Vague” and “Maybe Rotten”) available for download via Bandcamp, with more recordings planned for the year. The EP was originally released in a limited cassette-only edition of 100; the hemp cases, hand-woven by Calhoun, are useful for all kinds of things, but those versions are surely gone by now. Another two-track EP was released last December, and hopefully all this is building to a proper full-length release, along with another trip to Florida, at some point this year.

Watching Christopher Bell performing at Burro Bar, where he opened for the sumptuous Canary In The Coalmine on March 3, was something of a revelation. The music was excellent, but his means of making it was even more compelling. Bell’s approach to crafting a full-band sound for his solo sets begins with his instrument of choice, the cello. While almost all cellists prefer to play from a seated position, which is better for bowing, Bell plays his standing up, like an acoustic guitar, with more emphasis on finger-picking than the bow.

His style with the instrument reminds me, oddly enough, of the late jazz bassist Oscar Pettiford: After breaking his wrist playing baseball, Pettiford was unable to comfortably play the double-bass for a time, so he went with the cello; his recordings during that period are marked by a delicacy of sound that almost anticipated Chico Hamilton’s groundbreaking groups.

Bell’s cello is augmented with a self-contained wooden box full of effects pedals, as well as a keyboard that he uses to sample himself, as he crafts his beats in real-time. It was fun, and instructive, to watch each song come together, piece-by-piece, and it speaks to his dedication to performance that he does this for every show, instead of just playing over pre-recorded tracks. Despite his affable demeanor on-stage, which comes off somewhat geekish and slightly goofy, his command of the tools before his gave the performance a professional sheen.

His new album, Cashing In On My Mistakes (2012) represents a huge step forward—more songs, more complex, better-recorded. It’s the sound of a musician who, after years of experimentation, has finally found his mature sound. That was how he sounded at Burro. It would be interesting to hear him performing with Robin Rutenberg & Friends next time he’s here, just to hear the contrast in cello-work between him and Ms. Naarah Strokosch, who is my favorite cello player in the world right now—not because I’m some expert on the instrument, but because she’s cool, and so is that band’s music–a new CD out now.

Notes on Chris Brown, Rihanna and notable woman-beaters of recent history…

Anyone who’s spent any portion of the past couple of years perusing either my Facebook page (arguably the greatest of its kind, ever) or my recently award-winning Twitter feed (thanks again, Jax Mag!) can discern two facts straightaway: 1) I love pro-wrestling; 2) I hate Chris Brown. If I need to explain why, I can only offer congratulations on getting out of your vegetative state, or GITMO, whichever applies to your specific case. My fiery distaste for this glorified minstrel was inflamed yet again by his feuds with WWE Champion CM Punk and country singer Miranda Lambert (both of whom could probably kick his ass), as well as the news that he’s collaborated on two new tracks by Rihanna, who of course is best-known for being repeatedly punched in the face by Chris Brown, and not really minding that much.

To each his own—and these are two peas in a pod. Whereas Brown has spent the past few years trying to balance his need for public absolution against his obvious inability to change the mentality that got him that situation to begin with, Rihanna has spent that time glorifying her abuser and his type in songs, videos and elaborate stage shows built around the single unifying theme of all of Rihanna’s music: S&M. The world erred in viewing that incident as domestic violence, and Rihanna as a helpless victim of an abruptly abusive male. In reality, the beating was just one small, public part of a long-term sadomasochistic relationship between two people who grew up being abused, and whose profession requires them to project self-destructive messages to the urban fans who, being rubes in the most fundamental sense, take their gimmicks seriously. Their job is to help normalize this shit, and make it cool.

The Chris Brown camp—aka the “I don’t hit girls, but if any girl ever gives me a halfway plausible excuse, I look forward to doing so” crowd—makes a very good point in his defense: He did nothing unusual in the larger context of pop-culture. To single him out is unfair, and hypocritical. Brown is not the first famous guy caught beating the crap out a woman, but he is the first who’s ever had to apologize more than once, if only because there were pictures.

A short list would fill this column; a full and detailed list would fill this entire issue, and it’s surprising no one’s actually tried that yet. After looking into the subject, I was disturbed to see that many of my favorite artists, writers and musicians hit their wives, girlfriends, or even strangers; some are well-known, others less so. This list is meant to include only convictions or plea bargains, admitted incidents, incidents that occurred in front of witnesses, or individuals who have been accused by multiple women.

Marv Albert, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Chris Benoit, Big Pun, Biggie Smalls, Riddick Bowe, Jackson Browne, Jim Brown, Bobby Brown, Glenn Campbell, Jose Canseco, Nick Carter, John Daly, Miles Davis, Elijah Dukes, Eminem, Mel Gibson, Jimi Hendrix, Terence Howard, Joe Jackson, Rick James, Sean Penn, Jason Kidd, Sugar Ray Leonard, Lex Luger, Sugar Ray Robinson, Tommy Lee, John Lennon, Norman Mailer, Moses Malone, Steve McQueen, Shawne Merriman, Harry Morgan, Mos Def, Bill Murray, Tito Ortiz, Pablo Picasso, Kirby Puckett, Busta Rhymes, Axl Rose, Randy Savage, George C. Scott, Charlie Sheen, Christian Slater, Dick Slater, Wesley Snipes (accused of beating Halle Berry), Phil Spector, Kevin Sullivan, Tone Loc, Stalin, Daryl Strawberry, Hunter S. Thompson, Ike Turner, Mike Tyson, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Sid Vicious, Yanni. And you know who was one of the most notorious woman-beaters in recent memory? Mr. “peace and love” himself–John Lennon! Hell, even Ric Flair has been accused of domestic violence. (Note: For legal reasons, and to save space, no local examples are cited here, but everyone knows who I’m talking about.)

What can we learn from all this? Nothing.

Let’s also note that the Chris Brown/Rihanna debacle points to a common problem in dealing with domestic violence: What do you do when the woman forgives and embraces her accuser? Rihanna fans who were disgusted by the beating she took have now been forced, by her, to put money into the pocket of the man who did it. All her so-called “friends” and family who went to her birthday party just a couple weeks ago were compelled not only to tolerate Brown’s presence as he nuzzled up to her, but also to reportedly sign confidentiality agreements saying they wouldn’t tell the media he was there—and they did it!

And, lest the world come down too hard on Rihanna’s deplorable behavior in all this (which sets a new low, even in this category), let’s not forget that things could be worse. The example of Halle Berry looms, pointing toward her future, in a best-case scenario. At worst, well, one shudders to think. Hopefully she does, as well.

Interview: Luiz Palhares and the Gracie Jiu Jitsu legacy

Passing the Torch: Luiz Palhares and the Gracie Jiu Jitsu legacy

Luiz Palhares, in-studio.

Fight fans will remember that day, two decades ago, as if it were yesterday: November 12, 1993. Denver hosted the inaugural Ultimate Fighting Championship that day, and Americans were introduced to the dominant martial-art of the last 20 years. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu was already 50 years old by that point, yet fighters tasked with countering it got played like cheap fiddles, over and over. What began in a little facility in Southern California has now become a global industry as big as anything of its type, ever, and Duval is helping to lead the way.

Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is, along with kickboxing and amateur-style wrestling, the foundation of MMA as a sport and as a distinct, uniquely American art-form with real, inestimable value. Its practical applications are obvious, in an increasingly unstable world; close-quarters combat is what civilians face on the streets, and if you’re ever in a situation where escape is not an option, BJJ will save your life. It’s being taught to police officers, football players, pro-wrestlers; even the US Military has sought to integrate BJJ into methods that are already pretty gosh-darned effective. The Gracies have started teaching it to kids as part of their anti-bullying stance, and women are embracing it in unprecedented numbers, to the point that women’s MMA is itself a multi-million-dollar business.

The State of Florida has one of the country’s biggest and best BJJ scenes, with Northeast Florida right out in-front. Most of the major cities (Orlando, Tampa, Miami) have good schools now, and smaller cadres are training everywhere else, especially at college campuses, YMCAs and such. Many people consider Luiz Palhares one of the very best Jiu jitsu teachers in the US today, and his skills will be on display when his Jacksonville Gracie Jiu Jitsu studio in Mandarin (founded 2007) hosts the 5^th Annual Jax BJJ Open on Saturday, March 24.

A native of Rio de Janeiro, Palhares began training under the late Rolls Gracie from 1976-82, then continued his studies under his brothers Carlson and, since 1982, Rickson, widely viewed as the most dominant professional fighter of his generation. Palhares, 53, is currently a 7^th Degree Black Belt; he’s taught in the US and Canada, as well as Paris, London and Belfast, and his students have included US Army Rangers, Green Berets and Navy SEALs. He was the multi-time champ of Rio, the 1998 Brazilian National Champion and the Pan American Champion for 2000, 2003 and 2004, all in the super-heavyweight senior division. In the big, wide world of BJJ, it doesn’t get any more authentic than Luiz Palhares. He’s worn the black belt for almost 30 years, and he earned it from the absolute best. His presence speaks directly to Northeast Florida’s growing international appeal.

SDH: What’s it like to learn the art-form in such an intense environment as Rio in the 1970s and ‘80s? Was it as tough as we’ve heard from legend (and the “Gracie In-Action” tapes)?

LP: The 1970s where a lot of fun even though they were intense, and I was fortunate to be present when the Gracie family challenged Karate, Tai Kwan Do and other martial arts styles to prove as Rolls did in the first 2 UFCs that jiu jitsu is the best martial arts to defend yourself. Also it was the same time that Brazilian women started to wear the teeny bikini, so it was tough to dedicate the hours we did. It was a very intense and dangerous environment.

 

SDH: Most fans never got to see Rolls Gracie, and even those of us who know a bit about the Gracie legacy know very little about him, but he was your first teacher. What was he like? How would he feel to see how far Gracie Jiu Jitsu has come over the past 30 years?

LP: Rolls was very important for the development of jiu jitsu because he was studying different martial arts such as wrestling, Sambo etc. and started to use the best techniques from these martial arts to mix with jiu jitsu. Besides this, he was one of the best competitors and one of the best coaches I saw in my life. He would be very proud to see jiu jitsu spread on all five continents. I’m sure he would be happy to know that all his students are traveling and teaching jiu jitsu all over the world.

 

SDH: What brought you to Florida, specifically Jacksonville? How long have you been here?

LP: I came to Florida for the warn weather, escaping from Virginia Beach where I was teaching the Navy SEALs and at a few schools. Since I was born and raised on the beach, I really missed that environment. I have now been living in Jacksonvlle for 5 years, opened two schools, one in Mandarin and the other one in Orange Park. Also, for more than four years I have been teaching at the JSO on a regular basis.

When the toughest men in the world want to get even tougher, they train in Gracie Jiu Jitsu...

SDH: What are your favorite and least-favorite things about living here?

LP: What I like most about Jacksonville are the people and the beach. What I hate is the traffic.

SDH: Could you explain to readers the differences, if any, between the Jiu jitsu associated with the Gracies and the style you teach? How much variety exists among the approaches taken by the trainers you’ve encountered?

LP: I have been teaching the jiu jitsu lifestyle, the same way I was taught by the Gracies. Jiu jitsu is a type of martial arts that continues to develop and I keep up to date on these new techniques for my students. This doesn’t mean that I left the roots of self-defense and I always explain to my students that martial arts is also about friendship and loyalty. There is a lot variety among the trainers, but a big concern is the large number of inexperienced instructors teaching jiu jitsu.

SDH: Who are some of your favorite students?

LP: It’s difficult to answer who my favorite students are, because I am teaching my two sons and most of my students are friends including the kids. If I start naming some of them I’m sure to forget others. Some of my students have gone on to start their own schools all over the US and Europe.

SDH: How would you assess the Jiu jitsu scene in Florida, relative to other parts of the country? How many schools/students would you estimate there are right now?

LP: The jiu jitsu scene in Florida is over-crowded, which speaks to the success of the true jiu jitsu lifestyle. There are hundreds of jiu jitsu schools across Florida with tens of thousands of students.

SDH: If someone reading this wanted to begin training in Jiu jitsu, what can they do to prepare themselves before calling you? Does one need to be at a particular level of conditioning first, or can someone out-of-shape start immediately?

LP: Jiu jitsu was made for the weak, out of shape or regular people who do not have enough time to work out to defend themselves on the street. Remember jiu jitsu is not about strength, it’s about leverage and technique. Anyone who brings a copy of this article to either one of my two locations, or the JSO, can have one free week.

SDH: Who would you consider the top-five best Brazilian Jiu jitsu practitioners active today, and/or of all-time?

LP: I consider Carson, Royler, Rolls, Rickson and Helio Gracie all-time best jiu jitsu practitioners. Active today among my top best are Roger Gracie, Michae lLanghi, Lucas Lepri, and Rodolfo Vieira.

http://www.luizpalharesjiujitsu.com/

http://www.facebook.com/jacksonvillegraciejiujitsu

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Luiz-Palhares-Jiu jitsu/160973310596945

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luiz_Palhares

http://www.bjjgrandprix.com

sheltonhull@gmail.com; March 12, 2012

Top Billin’: Sonny Rollins booked for 2012 Jacksonville Jazz Festival.

Mayor Alvin Brown was the star at a press conference held Thursday morning, Feb. 9, to formally announce the 2012 Jacksonville Jazz Festival, which will be held downtown May 24-27. The big news coming out can be summed-up in just two words: “Sonny Rollins”. Jazz fans will need no further embellishment, but for the uninitiated (and becoming a hard-core jazz fan is kind of like an initiation): With the sole exception of Dave Brubeck, Rollins is the world’s greatest living jazz musician, a man whose influence permeates almost the totality of the music in the 60+ years since he first made his name in post-bop New York.

One must note, also, the presence of two other masters among a lineup that is still being finalized: Chick Corea and Terence Blanchard. But the booking of Rollins, who at age 82 does not play concerts that often anymore, and rarely outside the areas more epicentric to the music, is a major coup of historic proportions. He is probably the most important musician to work our festival since those peak years when Dizzy Gillespie headlined multiple festivals toward the end of his life. But that was the ‘80s—a whole different world. The idea of Sonny Rollins appearing in Jacksonville, Florida in 2012 will, for some, be interpreted as a sign of imminent apocalypse; a heavy cynic might wonder if the world is destined to end the day before.

By attaching his name to the festival, Brown does it a service by basically making the festival brand symbiotic with his own. This is a great move, for his own interests, and it also puts a bit of pressure on him to make sure the festival’s long-term momentum is maintained. There were deep initial concerns about its very future coming into this year. Funding for Office of Special Events (which also oversees things like the World of Nations festival and Veterans Day parade) had been in some jeopardy during the last few years of budget battles; while truly significant cuts were not made, the specter of such cuts—and their disastrous effect on the city’s cultural identity—was often invoked by the Peyton administration in its later years.

Those fears, stoked by Peyton, caught fire soon after Brown succeeded him. Those now-infamous staff cuts last year hit the OSE hard, resulting in the elimination of its two top people. Theresa O’Donnell-Price and Christina Langston-Hughes were two of the unsung heroes of city government in the first decade of this century, skillfully implementing the mayor’s mandate to restore the vitality of a festival that had seen better days. Last year’s festival turned out to be their last at the OSE and, headlined by Herbie Hancock and Roy Ayers, one of the best ever. But Brown, at that point less than a month in as Mayor-Elect, was on vacation at the time, so he missed seeing what they could actually do—and within a few months, they were shown the door as unceremoniously as everyone else.

Losing them both, simultaneously, was the biggest blow to the festival as an institution since the scandalous staff cuts at WJCT that led directly to the collapse of the festival under its direction in the late-‘90s. It was a dark day for local jazz fans, that’s for sure, and anxiety about the future has only built-up since. Initial buzz on the 2012 festival has already gone a long way toward assuaging many of these concerns, but more can be done. In a nutshell, there should be a heavy representation of local artists at the festival, the businesses of the Urban Core need to be better-integrated into the overall experience, and the City should take the lead in establishing an even stronger presence for the festival in media, both in terms of social media, as well as trying to strengthen relationships with local and national media.

After WJCT basically washed their hands of the logistics, and the country caught its first taste of the post-9/11 economic instability, it was a gamble to invest public money in the Jazz Festival. (Bear in mind, there are people who oppose its public funding even now, despite the overwhelming evidence of disproportionate upside, in terms of economic impact. If all public monies could generate such direct and visceral return on investment, the whole world would be different right now.) But Peyton did it anyway, in early signs that he was far more moderate than he ever got credit for, and I think we can all agree that the gamble paid off.

It’s entirely likely that, had anyone else become mayor in 2003, the Jacksonville Jazz Festival would have never survived into the 21^st century—the third century of jazz music, which was born in Storyville, New Orleans, in the late 1800s. For this, Peyton will surely someday join Jake Godbold among former mayors enshrined in the festival’s Hall of Fame. At this rate, Brown may end up there, too. He’s got a real gift for the kind of retail politics that work so well in the south, and initiatives like this put those skills out-front.

Having written more about the festival’s modern incarnation than any other reporter (if not all of them, combined), I can say that he’s done the two things I’ve always recommended the political leadership do: 1) Take advantage of the festival’s ability to bridge gaps among citizens, and 2) Bring Sonny Rollins to town. It will be curious to see if the national jazz media gives the festival a bit more hype now; we’ll see about that.

New Kids On the Block: Whistling Princess brings vintage style downtown.

The historic W.A. Knight Building has been through several incarnations since it was built back in 1926. The upper floors currently houses some of the most interesting apartment-spaces in the city’s urban core, while its ground-floor was best-known as the home of Chew, one of the city’s best restaurants and anchor in the mini-renaissance that’s happened downtown over the past decade. But now, with Chew closed, destined for relocation into the new complex being built by its owners in Five Points, Adams Street now sees its identity changing.

The newest addition to Adams Street is the Whistling Princess, which proprietor Lynn Alaia describes as a “boutique thrift-store”. For years, Alaia (who also works right around the corner at Chamblin Uptown) has evolved her hobby of collecting vintage clothing into a viable business, run through her Etsy.com store, “ThriftShark”. It’s a more than just a nickname for her—it’s a brand. She spends countless hours scouring the region’s thrift-stores, estate sales, etc. (usually while wearing gloves) in search of the kind of unique and valuable rarities she stocks online. Over time, the stock overwhelmed her Riverside apartment, so she decided to put some of it into a store-front, which saved her space at home while opening new avenues to promote and expand upon the online business. Sitting just yards away from Laura Street, it would be almost impossible to find a more highly-visible location.

Whistling Princess appeals to the same clientele, but with an emphasis on accessibility and rapid turnover. Most items in the store cost less than $20, and nothing costs more than $40. There will be bins of items for $5 and even just $1; there are rumors that they might actually have a bin of free stuff, which can only be had if the customer consents to be photographed wearing it out of the store. (I suggested calling it “the Blackmail Bin”.)

The store also carries items from Burro Bags, as well as jewelry hand-made by Rayna Reichstadter (who also maintains an Etsy store: “BijuBee”); her husband Richard is caretaker of the building and a driving force behind many of the art-shows, concerts and such featured in the space to-date. With his father and brother both veteran jewelers themselves, it’s no surprise that his wife has taken to the art so adeptly, and in less than a year, at that. They will also be hosting monthly vegan dinners prepared by Dig Foods, whose products have already attracted a passionate following from working ArtWalk in the same space. It will instructive to see how this project proceeds through 2012.

http://www.etsy.com/people/ThriftShark

http://www.etsy.com/shop/BijuBee

http://www.etsy.com/shop/Magickwrapper

sheltonhull@gmail.com; January 19, 2012

Big Top Brawl: Ringling Bros. sparks protests over elephant abuse (with a lengthy disgression related to the depravity of SeaWorld).

Hey, kids: The circus is coming to town! I bet you can’t wait, right? Sure. It is reasonable to assume that we have all had some type of fascination with circuses at some time in our lives, and why not? The visual spectacle of exotic animals and aerial artistry makes a profound impact on the minds of kids; for most, it is the first truly huge, overwhelmingly awesome event of their lives. For most people, it’s just a passing fancy, a relic of childhood soon displaced in our minds by visions of comely contortionists, chicken geekery and other Jim Rose-style freaky, while many are instantly hooked, and remain so forever.

Either way, the circus facilitates our collective introduction into the carny arts and ignites a creative spark that never really goes away. The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus is the gold-standard of such operations, and it rarely fails to draw rapturous crowds as it packs every venue it hits on the road. A business that began in rickety canvas tents, waterproofed with highly-flammable chemicals, now commands top dollar in some of America’s biggest and most-prestigious arenas, from Madison Square Garden on down. Fans come from miles around for the acrobats and the clowns, but what really masses the marks are the animal acts—specifically, the lions, tigers and elephants. It is this, the most popular aspect of their operation, that has proven the most controversial, and a local organization is working to make sure their latest visit to Northeast Florida does not come off without a hitch.

Jax Protest takes a narrow, specific focus on what they characterize as the maltreatment of elephants trained to perform under the big top. Their website is replete with relevant data, as well as pictures that speak for themselves. “For animals in circuses,” they write, “there is no such thing as ‘positive reinforcement’—only varying degrees of punishment and deprivation. To force them to perform these meaningless and physically uncomfortable tricks, trainers use whips, tight collars, muzzles, electric prods, bullhooks and other painful tools of the trade. In the Ringling Bros. circus, elephants are beaten, hit, prodded and jabbed with sharp hooks, sometimes until bloody. Ringling breaks the spirit of elephants when they’re vulnerable babies who should still be with their mothers.” Brutal stuff, all of which Ringling denies, of course.

The group denounces Ringling not only for the harshness of their training methods, but also for the conditions in which the animals are forced to live, work and travel: “Constant travel means that animals are confined to boxcars, trailers, or trucks for days at a time in extremely hot and cold weather … Elephants, big cats, bears, and primates are confined to cramped and filthy cages in which they eat, drink, sleep, defecate, and urinate—all in the same place. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus boasts that its two units travel more than 25,000 miles as the circus tours the country for 11 months each year. Ringling’s own documents reveal that on average, elephants are chained for more than 26 hours straight and are sometimes continually chained for as many as 60 to 100 hours.”

“JaxProtest members are a 100% volunteer group,” they write. “We come together to help those who have no voice. We are teachers, MMA fighters, web designers, stay at home mothers, retired military, students and everyone in between.” The group plans to protest all seven of Ringling Bros. planned performances at the Veterans Memorial Arena downtown, which are spread out over four days between January 19 and 22. To this end, they have partnered with like-minded organizations like the Girls Gone Green, the Animal Rights Foundation and OccupyJax. Headhunter Muai Thai also supports Jax Protest; the fact that some of its members train there makes for a nice counter to the widespread perception of animal-rights activists as, well, geeks. (They’re in the Relson Gracie Academy on Beach Blvd., and worth checking out.) It also makes sense, given the elephant’s prominent positioning within Thai culture. Another collaborator, the Lotus Elephant Sanctuary, has gone so far as to begin preparations to establish its own wild elephant preserve in Laos.

I’m not much of a circus fan (though I do try to catch the awesome all-black Universoul Circus on their yearly swing through the area). While the animal-rights aspect of the argument is plenty compelling, for me the issue pivots on the question of children’s rights—specifically, the right to not be traumatized by these periodic animal freak-out sessions that have, on occasion, been precipitated by the mistreatment of animals. If an animal ran amok in the crowd or maimed its handler in the presence of kids, that outfit should be banned from that particular city forever, and investigations should immediately commence into any possible causalities. Ringling has a responsibility to lead on this issue, so that smaller circuses cannot use any laxity up-top as an excuse for failure down below.

Ringling has so far been able to avoid the disgusting, depraved moral and ethical lapses of SeaWorld, whose executives are some of the biggest pieces of scumbag trash anywhere in the United States today—and if you know any of them, please tell them I said so! The Tilikum debacle should have been sufficient to shut the whole thing down. Instead they were able the a) basically bury the negligent homicide of their own employee by claiming the victim got herself killed through her own incompetence, then b) keep a killer whale known to be lethally-dangerous to its own species and to people (including its closest human companion) performing for the public, whose children will absolutely be forced to watch that thing kill again, on their dime.

Ringling Brothers should be mindful of the piss-poor example set by SeaWorld (not to be confused with “Sea World”, an entirely unrelated Australian company that does pretty much the exact same thing, but better and safer—they like to make that clear). Tilikum was born in the wild, abducted at age two, separated from his family and forced to live with older, non-related orcas that physically abused him on a regular basis. He was trained at Sealand in Canada, using methods that included deliberate starvation, and perhaps worse.

It was there where he killed a 20 year-old female trainer in 1991; it was deemed it an accident—he didn’t do it, he just helped the others do it—and they kept him working. Like a pedophile priest, he was transferred—appropriately enough, to Florida, a state that openly, gleefully encourages the presence of all violent predatory animals, even those that aren’t human. Whether his history raised any red flags, or whether his new handlers were even informed of that history, remains unclear, but since this is Florida we can presume they did know, and just didn’t care. Well, obviously, they don’t care, and never did—we have the public record to tell us that.

They found a man’s naked body in his tank in 1999. SeaWorld said the guy sneaked in drunk, which implies that they kept a known killer under such lax protection that someone could get into the tank when the park was closed, even if they were drunk and naked. Luckily, it was not some intrepid pipsqueak looking to get a closer look at the beautiful orca, or a terrorist hoping to channel Tilikum’s insane killing power for jihad. His third killing, in 2010, fit the modus operandi of the first: grabbed by the orca and thrown around the pool until dead. Dawn Brancheau was a 16-year veteran who knew this beast better than anyone, so she didn’t die quick, unfortunately for her; her jaw, ribs and neck were broken and her spinal cord severed before she drowned, paralyzed, at the bottom.

At least a dozen people had to watch that woman die, but were powerless to save her. It was SeaWorld’s job to keep her safe, and they neglected that duty so profoundly that the park’s continued existence is a disgrace. Brancheau should be a martyr for workplace safety, and the video of her death should be made public, so Americans will understand the pressing need to put these people out of business. Instead, OSHA issued a whitewashed report, a bullshit $75,000 fine, and Tilikum was back entertaining the masses a year later. As the kids say, “OMG!” Suffice to say SeaWorld is so depraved, even Tommy Lee has voiced concerns.

Among the dozens of serious attacks on humans by killer whales, only one has happened in the wild, and that was in 1972. Either the captivity contributes to the aggression, or humans have somehow successfully captured only the most violent specimens. One should note here that Tilikum, who’s spent 28 of his 30 years captive, is himself implicated in 75% of all documented human deaths related to orcas, which makes a compelling case for causalityg. In this increasingly unstable economy, all it takes is one unfortunate incident to torpedo a company, even one as big, as rich and as historic as the Greatest Show On Earth. Just one more elephant, or a single overly aggressive lion, could do to the entire circus industry what fires, economic depression, two world wars and brutal train-wrecks could not: Kill business forever. So, it’s probably best not to beat them, right? Sure. We’ll see how that works out for them.

http://www.jaxprotest.com/

http://www.facebook.com/Jaxprotest

http://www.facebook.com/events/304820789556769/

jaxprotest@gmail.com

http://www.lotussanctuary.org/

http://www.thegirlsgonegreen.com/

http://www.fourfeetforward.org/

http://www.animalrightsflorida.org/index.html

http://www.headhuntermuaythai.com/

sheltonhull@gmail.com; January 2, 2012

Money Jungle: Weakness Is Provocative

Weakness Is Provocative

Since the Occupy Jacksonville movement began, I’ve studiously avoided making comments about it in this space, mostly so I could see how it was handled by the authorities. Having witnessed much of their disgraceful behavior firsthand, I feel now obliged to speak my peace. The city’s crackdown on the Occupation going on outside of City Hall is humiliation for all citizens of a city that, let’s face it, routinely goes out of its way to humiliate itself.

Those of us who labor daily against the perception that Jacksonville is a sub-literate cesspool of racism and religious dogma, a place whose land, air and water are so polluted that the only things that grow here consistently are criminals, have seen our effort rebuked yet again. Whether it was corrupt fire inspectors in the 1990s or the disastrous DART raids of a couple years ago, our “leaders” have remained keen to waste law-enforcement resources on bullshit, despite ample evidence that their methods have actually empowered the organized crime groups that, let’s face it, control far more of this city than any silly old church.

The situation also tends to confirm the mayor’s political cowardice to those handfuls of observers for whom the question remained in doubt. Brown’s tenure has mostly been defined by throwing key supporters under the bus, while retaining much of the core of the administration that preceded his—the one he was elected largely in opposition to. From day one, Brown has acted like an embattled incumbent; it’s almost like he anticipates being there for just one term, a historical aberration, a failed experiment in the craven new style.

The Occupy movement represents, perhaps, the last significant opportunity to address the issues of corporate greed and economic and social inequality in non-violent fashion. It’s scary to think that, when young people organize to assert their constitutional rights to freedom of speech, assembly and association, the establishment reaction is viscerally negative.

Councilman Don Redman has been a constant presence at Occupy events, playing the role of amiable scold. Unless he’s secretly a part of the 99% (and some think he may be), he has devoted extraordinary amounts of his personal time harassing a bunch of kids who have not yet been trained in how to deal with hatemongers. Whatever the needs of the voters in his district, they should know those needs fall second to Redman’s need to bother the protesters. The recent crackdown indicates that it’s Redman, not Brown, who calls the shots as far as how this was handled. Speculation has already begun that the term-limited Redman may join what will surely be a wave of politicians seeking to unseat an already-weakened mayor Brown; Sheriff John Rutherford, who’s been at odds with the mayor and his own union, remains at the top of most lists, but more will come. Because weakness is provocative.

But let’s say this much for Redman: At least he showed up. Brown and other members of the Council have basically adopted the policy of other city leaders nationwide—that of running their mouths about things they have no understanding of. It makes sense that Brown, who bounced back and forth between the Beltway and Corporate America, would be ignorant of the underlying economic reality. It makes sense that his populist campaign rhetoric would be a front for more of the same-old, same-old. It makes sense that our visionary new leader is a just a cut-out caricature, eager to conform to stereotype.

Because as we’ve seen with President Obama, the first job for any black executive-branch pol is to act forcefully to retain the confidence and support of the white business leaders who brought them to power. Hence, the firings, politically-motivated. Ironic that a mayor who was elected largely on a promise to encourage growth downtown has signed-off on suppressing the only people who can actually draw numbers into downtown on a weekend without promising football or free food. It’s further ironic that most of the local Occupiers either voted for Alvin Brown or actively worked for his campaign. Well, they won’t next time!

Our mayor has apparently forgotten that he won by the closest margin in local history, and that it was the support of young progressives that kept him in the game back when elites were focused on that shoddy Hogan-Moran-Mullaney horserace. I’ve heard many Democrats in recent months wish aloud that Audrey Moran had just a little bit more guts, hadn’t been so passive in response to conservative attacks, had tried to reach out to progressive a little bit more instead of prostrating for the business community like everyone else has. Of course, it’s unlikely that she would have handled OccupyJax any differently because, overall, this movement exists to show the people of this country that our leaders have not only abnegated their responsibilities, but have deliberately acted against the best interests of this country.

Why? Because they are on the take. Every single politician in this country is hopelessly corrupt, whether they want to be or not. The system of campaign finance ensures that whoever wins any election is probably already bought and paid for by foreign capital. Those of you who complain about Brown now have forgotten  that he was trained by Bill Clinton, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt human beings to ever walk this earth. He learned his lessons well, but it remains to be seen how much the voters themselves have learned.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; December 24, 2011

Notes on Monica da Silva

A recent Thursday evening in late September found the author, among many others, in the bar area leading into Matthew’s in San Marco. Its large plate-glass windows, the long, speckled white bar, illuminated glass shelves holding some 94 different brands of top-shelf spirits–and the best “bar-food” you’ll have this year–all gave it an airy, upscale vibe that elicits the feel of South Beach. The “suspension of disbelief” factor is high.

On that night, the aesthetic was reinforced by the music emanating from the bar’s far south side. There, strumming guitar on a stool, sat Chad Alger, with singer Monica da Silva hovering just in front. She lived here and played there every Thursday before moving to Miami a while back. Between sets, she networks as adeptly as she sings–a useful skill.

Da Silva, 27, began playing piano and flute very young, and was singing about as long as she knows. Her mom’s musical family hails from Brazil, home of BOPE, the Bossa Nova and Gracie Jiu-Jitsu; her aunt is the concert pianist Helene Elias. Her influences are much greater than Getz/Gilberto, though: the Beatles, Smiths, Pet Shop Boys, Cranberries.

Da Silva’s second album, Brasilissima, further fuses the sound of her elders with the pointed lyricism of her generation. It’s also her first recording with Alger; they met while both were living in Chicago. Together they moved to Ormond Beach before returning to the place where they were born, Jacksonville. They’ve already recorded a half-dozen songs toward the next album, but with so much on their schedule, finishing may take a while.

While in Chicago she started her own publishing company, Socialite Fiasco Music, and has licensed her music to a diverse array of TV entities including “American Idol”, “Miami Ink” and Major League Baseball. “You’re putting a value on what you do, explaining why you deserve it”, says da Silva (who’s fluent in English and Portuguese and conversant in Italian, Spanish and French), and it requires a mindset very different from what she brings to onto the stage or into the studio. It takes a lot of assertiveness just to find the deals, much less actually making them.

Also among the M Lounge set that night was French-American film-maker Andre Leboug, who’d sought them out via a mutual friend, WJCT’s David Luckin. They made plans to shoot a video for “Push Me Away”, a track off Brasilissima. Another track, “Ai Entao” , will carry da Silva’s voice to a global audience when it’s featured on Brazilian Beat, the next installment of international sounds issued by the Putumayo label.

While working the Red Gorilla Festival in Texas, she sent some tracks to influential Austin DJ Michael Crockett, who introduced her to a fellow Brazilian musician who suggested she and Putomayo would be a good fit. Apparently they agreed, which is good news for her. Some releases sell upwards of three million copies, and they’ve just now entered the digital realm. Brazilian Beat will be released in January 2012; her third album is planned for later that year.

Interview: Kathleen Hanna

[The piece below is for Folio--runs Tuesday. But, since Ms. Hanna's birthday is today, it made sense to preview it now, for the one-half of one-millionth of the world who actually checks this thing out--and thanks, by the way. I should also note that the section of downtown Jacksonville with MOCA and the newest Main Branch library are the best investments made in local public infrastructure in the past decade, a decade with many nice moves made.

The library's music section is probably the best in Florida, in part because the collection is old, and in part because their acquisitions game is tighter than the Carlyle Group. The record collection alone was worth perhaps $100,000 before it was sold off piecemeal; WJCT did the same thing, and the cognoscenti worldwide sez "Thanks!" The zine collection is the most recent addition, and it touches on an aspect of regional culture crucial to its current leviathan status.

And next time you're in Gainesville, make sure your visit includes a) the Butterfly Museum, b) Hear Again Music, and c) the legendary Civic Media Center, of which I could never say enough. Etc. and so forth, here ya go.]

Leader of the Pack
Kathleen Hanna on zines and scenes and feminist things.2011 Zine Symposium
“Zines: The Personal Is Political”
Jacksonville Public Library, Hicks Auditorium
Panel Discussion, 11am; Keynote Presentation, noon
Back when people wrote actual letters, I sent one to Kathleen Hanna, former singer for Bikini Kill, whose three imperfectly perfect albums in the ’90s set a sonic standard whose emulators have dominated the 21st century. Between her sound and their fury, Hanna (who turns 42 on the 12th) helped establish the continuity that ensured “girl singers” could do what they want, however they want to do it. What was next? I wondered. She sent back a package with some of the zines she was doing then; soon, Julie Ruin emerged, followed by Le Tigre. The original Rebel Girl is now an established veteran of all aspects of media, and one of the most influential women of her generation. She’s recorded eight albums since 1991, three EPs, seven singles featured on nine different compilation albums and, most tellingly, appeared on 17 different albums by other artists. She’s also the subject of two documentary features: The Punk Singer and Who Took the Bomp? Le Tigre On Tour. (And, of course, her cameo in the video for “Bull In the Heather”!)

Hanna’s first visit here comes this Saturday, November 19, by invitation of the Jacksonville Public Library, where she’ll sit on a panel convened by curators of the library’s game-changing zine collection. Panelists include author, musician and FSCJ art professor Mark Creegan; artist/author Adee Roberson (http://www.pineappleblack.blogspot.com–very nice!); zine writer Travis Fristoe (whose credits include Maximum RocknRoll, Library Journal and Gainesville’s legendary Civic Media Center); and myself, a big fan of all their work. Hanna will then deliver the keynote address for the 2011 Zine Symposium. For adepts and adherents of the art form, this cannot be missed. Folio caught up with the ever-busy Hanna via Internets:

FW: Did the Internet kill the ‘zine trade, or somehow make it better?
KH: I think the internet gave certain obscure zines a place in the modern landscape they never would’ve had without it. Having said that, it is annoying to me when people buy older zines and then scan them and put some pages up on the internet without the author’s permission. They lose their original context that way, and often zines that were written in a specific time and place come off as overarching and ahistorical when, really, they were responding to specific things that were going on in local scenes at the time. Zines kind of were our blogs before blogs existed; they were meant to be quick and rough and
local and not overworked.If we wanted to write books, that were more permanent, we would’ve, but we didn’t. They were meant to be ephemeral and function in a specific time period.

FW: Have you ever worked with the Future of Music Coalition(futureofmusic.org)?
KH: I know Jenny and Kristin but I’ve never worked with FMC. [Note: Jenny Toomey and Kristin Thomson co-founded the band Tsunami.] They were, I believe both at the first Riot Grrrl meeting and were verysupportive and involved early on. I went to Junior High with Jenny Toomey.

FW: What are your thoughts on Occupy Wall Street? [Note: OccupyJax has
been in Hemming Plaza since Nov. 5]

KH: I think it’s great. I am pretty inspired by what young people do in general (not like it’s all young people, but it seems like quite a few young people were the instigators). It is interesting to me when people criticized it in the beginning, claiming it was all young, middle class people, and I was like “They are the ones who can manage to physically be down there sleeping on the bricks, and so they are, and that’s awesome, not a bummer!”FW: How do you feel about the “SlutWalk” trend?
KH: I am always happy when women are taking it to the streets and starting discussions.FW: What are your thoughts on the late Slits singer Ari Up?
KH: She was an innovator and I can’t believe she is gone. We lost her and Poly [Styrene] in a 2 year time period [note: both to cancer] and I think many of us are still reeling from this.

FW: Tell me about Lydia Lunch?
KH: LOOOVE HER. There are many spots on the album I am working on with my new band The Julie Ruin where my vocals are totally influenced by her style. She has influenced culture on such a deep level and never really been given her due.

FW: Is it possible for women to take positions that contradict the larger feminist community, while retaining feminist credentials? What must she say or do to be “expelled” from the movement?
KH: There are so many different ways to enact one’s own feminist ideas that it is pretty hard to come up with a unified list of feminist do’s and don’ts, and I personally hate that way of thinking. I am way more into allowing women to define feminism for themselves and keep on stretching its meanings. More arguments, more questions, more disagreements, this is what leads to a vital movement, not lists and rules.

FW: What’s it like seeing yourself on film?
KH: Um. Weird and embarrassing pretty much sums it up, but I have a distance from it now. After Who Took the Bomp? came out, I started being filmed for an upcoming documentary called The Punk Singer and my main thing is that I don’t really care if I come off like a jerk. I just want the movie to be engaging so people will go off on their own and check out my work and the stuff me and my bandmates made together.  I mean, on one hand I have a huge ego and love attention and all that, that’s why I’m a performer, but on the other hand I don’t take any of it too seriously, cuz I really am just an ant on anthill like everyone
else and my time here on earth is finite.

FW: Which of your recordings stands out as most representative of your aesthetic?
KH: I am most proud of the Rebel Girl 7″ Bikini Kill did and the first Le Tigre album. The song “Hot Topic” on that album is very much indicative of my aesthetic. Poppy yet still DIY with a big nod to the past.

FW: Who are the “Riot Grrrls” of today?
KH: Brontez Purnell of The Younger Lovers is my favorite modern riot girl. Also the women who run the website http://www.girlgangunderground.org/.

FW: Why have you never appeared in Jacksonville before?
KH: I don’t really know why, it was always hard to book stuff in Florida for some reason. Le Tigre played in Gainesville and Miami, but BK never played Florida at all.

jplzinelibrary.wordpress.com
jaxpubliclibrary.orgsheltonhull@gmail.com; November 7, 2011

Press Release: Odd Future/Adult Swim

ADULT SWIM PICKS UP LIVE-ACTION SERIES WITH ODD FUTURE WOLF GANG KILL THEM ALL             LOITER SQUAD TO PREMIERE ON ADULT SWIM IN 2012 Adult Swim announced today it has picked up the live-action series Loiter Squad, a 15 minute live-action show that features sketches, man on the street segments, pranks and music from Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All. The cast, featuring the Los Angeles collective of rappers, artists, and skateboarders, channel their multi-faceted creative talents in this Jackass-style showcase.  This announcement comes on the heels of Tyler, The Creator’s “Best New Artist” win at the 2011 Video Music Awards.  Creating their own show comes as a natural next step for Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, whose accomplishments have garnered wide media attention in 2011 and continue to compound on themselves.  Singing member Frank Ocean contributed to the new Beyonce album and the collaboration between Kanye West and Jay Z. Tyler, The Creator’s Goblin LP has sold more than 100,000 copies and his Yonkers video has been viewed more than 22 million times. Odd Future is on the verge of their first national tour and the release of their Golf Wang book in November will document their travels and hometown exploits.  Loiter Squad is being produced by Dickhouse Entertainment–the Hollywood production partnership of Johnny Knoxville, Jeff Tremaine and Spike Jonze who have been the creative power behind hits including Jackass, Nitro Circus, Rob & Big, Rob Dyrdek’s Fantasy Factory, Wild Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, The Birth of Big Air and Wildboyz.  The Dickhouse sensibility provides a perfect match for the unique viewpoints, masterful pranking and artistic inclinations of the Odd Future crew.  Jeff Tremaine and Adult Swim’s Nick Weidenfeld will serve as executive producers. Adult Swim (AdultSwim.com), launched in 2001, is Turner Broadcasting System, Inc.’s network offering original and acquired animated and live-action series for young adults.  Airing nightly from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. (ET, PT), Adult Swim shares channel space with Cartoon Network, home to the best in original, acquired and classic entertainment for youth and families, and is seen in 99.4 million U.S. homes. Turner Broadcasting System, Inc., a Time Warner company, creates and programs branded news, entertainment, animation and young adult media environments on television and other platforms for consumers around the world. ADULT SWIM CONTACTS: Atlanta     Tim DeClaire                              (404) 575-9283                                                  tim.declaire@turner.com Elliott Niespodziani                     (404) 885-4834               elliott.niespodziani@turner.com Wendy Rutherford                       (404) 827-5097               wendy.rutherford@turner.com ODD FUTURE PR CONTACT: Heathcliff Berru @ Life or Death PR  (773) 344-8216               info@wegetpress.com

Preview: “Tangerine” at Walkers Wine Bar, Aug. 25

courtesy Nicodemus Atrium Galleries

The man known as Zaiche keeps many plates spinning. After emerging in the 1990s as one-third of the hip-hop group Power Douglas, Zaiche (a native New Yorker) traveled the world before returning to his adopted home of Jacksonville, FL a few years ago. He and his mother opened the Kabre’ Cyntanna Salon on Park and King streets a couple years ago, and he is now also a principal in the Nicodemus Atrium Galleries, a new management/promotional groups focused on the freshest, most sophisticated stuff in the region. (You know, that Nick Fresh-type stuff!)

His newest project is called “Tangerine”, and it’s being promoted as an upscale, high-energy gathering of the new power base, the young artists, musicians and activists helping to put Duval back on the map as a hotbed for progressive politics and diverse cultural excellence. The first event occurs on Thursday night, August 25, at Walkers Wine Bar, located on the corner of Post and King streets in historic Riverside, just a couple blocks down from Kabre Cyntanna. It’s a perfect venue for such a gathering, with the sort of stylized industrial aesthetic that has come to define the area; the owners of Walkers also own a dance club called The Loft and a wine bar called Rogue, located side-by-side just a few yards from Walkers.

As usual with a new project, it’s unclear exactly what will happen. What we do know is that DJ Chef Rocc, of the infamous Big Bucks DJ crew, will be manning the tables. The rest is largely up to the clientele. Zaiche wants it to be the kind of place where conscious cats can network and plot the power moves needed to move the city forward. Show your support by attending, and be sure to “like” the various FB pages linked from here. I will certainly be there!

Pyramid Scheme: The Haitian Memorial Pyramid answers several questions at once.

The horrifying human and material destruction wrought by the earthquake that wrecked Haiti on January 12, 2010 inspired impassioned humanitarian responses from around the world, linking diverse chains of concerned citizens spanning political and socioeconomic categories. These chains will hopefully pull Haiti back from the abyss. One link among these chains is veteran political activist Russell Pelle, whose latest cause is certainly his greatest—the Haitian Memorial Pyramid.

The Pyramid project encompasses many things at once, which is what has made it so potent in the public sphere. The earthquake killed at least a quarter-million people in a matter of seconds, crushed beneath the rubble of buildings built to third-world standards and pulverized by seismic shocks. The body-count overwhelmed any existing emergency capacity—it’s not certain that such an emergency could even be handled effectively in the United States—and forced a Haitian government that was itself teetering on the edge of illegitimacy to make an almost-unthinkable decision: In lieu of normal burial practices, most of Haiti’s death were bulldozed into mass-graves on the outskirts of Port-au-Price. The site is considered hallowed ground by some, a symbol of the country’s weakness and systemic failure to others.

Pelle’s plan is at once audacious and amazingly practical. They will collect the rubble that remains around the earthquake zone, haul it away and use it to construct a gigantic pyramid at the site of the mass-grave. The pyramid’s aesthetics would recall the spirit of the indigenousAmericas: “A stairway, aligned with the sun every January 12, ascends to the summit. Passing under a glass rainbow archway set aglow by the sun, visitors approach the eternal flame. Trees and greenery on the terraces of the pyramid symbolize life—and the reforestation of Haiti.”

When finished, the Haitian Memorial Pyramid should be one of the country’s major tourist attractions, as well as a place where the people can own their pain and take control of how this unspeakable human tragedy will be perceived by future generations. Perhaps most importantly, in the short-term, the project (which could be potentially beHaiti’s largest employer) will not only provide jobs for local workers, but accelerate the snail-like pace of cleanup activity inPort-au-Prince.

The extent of material waste from resources donated by citizens of the world, and the slowness of the redevelopment over the past year and a half, is a flat-out disgraceful debacle. Most reports say that over 500,000 people still live in the camps, but Pelle’s experience suggests the number is more like a million. Those who can get out and try to rebuild their lives have nowhere to do so, because most of the rubble—some 33 million metric tons—remains where it fell. The pace of redevelopment has remained still as sluggish as health care, crime control or the food situation.

Frankly, the most amazing thing is that there hasn’t been some other major humanitarian tragedy (like cholera or malaria) since then. Haitians have been catching the bum’s rush for generations, alternating between dictatorship and chaos. Why? “The ruling class’ wealth is based on buying and reselling imports, so they have no interest in domestic production or agriculture,” Pelle says. The US has been extremely deficient about its responsibilities to a country it essentially sold into French tyranny.

Citizens of Florida have, of course, been always ahead of the curve on theHaitisituation, as our state (particularlyMiami) is the gateway to that whole region. Led by a brilliant contingent of Haitian-American artists, writers, musicians, businessmen and academics (including our own Overstreet Ducasse), money has been raised, connections have been made, and the groundwork has been laid for long-term political and economic means to bring long-delayed social justice to the people of Haiti.

But first, they’ve got to move that rubble. Pelle has partnered with Jeffrey Foster, a fellow Jacksonville resident (and designer of the Girvin Road landfill) who’s leading the design team, as well as treasurer Roland Wasembeck. They will be working in collaborations with Haitian consultants, utilizing a preponderance of their local labor. It may take 10 to 15 years, and millions of dollars, to finish the project, but it’s potential long-term benefit to the country makes it well worth the investment. The site is slated to also include a botanical garden and marine sanctuary built by other groups adjacent to the pyramid. When completed, it will be 100% owned byHaiti itself.

The astonishing disconnect between the billions pledged for Haitian relief and recovery, and the stunning failure of redevelopment efforts to date, suggests even bigger challenges ahead for people like Pelle. For some, Haitiis just the newest, fashionable form of social outreach, and that’s fine. But for Pelle, this whole thing evolves organically from years of direct involvement in Haitian affairs. “It’s an amazing, fascinating place,” he says. He’s spent most summers there since 1996; his most recent trip (Aug. 7-14) was the second one this year, and his 16^th in 15 years. They originally planned to spend 15 days there, but finances compelled some truncation; the estimated cost for two people to make that trip for two weeks was $6,450.

Concerns about the approach of TS Emily, which was slated to approachHaitithat very weekend, did nothing to dissuade the team; it was their most important session yet. They have now met so far with a number of Haitian officials, including former PM Michele Pierre-Louis, current PM Jean-Max Bellerive (whose successor has not yet been chosen), the Minister of Tourism, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and several mayors and senators of the Port au Prince area. Their political bases are well-covered.

The Haitian Memorial Pyramid holds nonprofit status in the state ofFlorida. The group has documented their work via Powerpoint on several occasions. These materials are available online, at HaitianPyramid.org; they will also deliver the message directly to groups interested in participating. (Donations via PayPal: haitianpyramid@gmail.com.) By partnering with others working to advance the same people, options for synergy and symbiosis abound.

The project is intended to be a bipartisan effort, stripped bare of petty ideological concerns; one hopes it can remain that way. Pelle and company reached out to heavy-hitters across the ideological spectrum, and got strong feedback from Bill Nelson and Corrine Brown. The North Florida Central Labor Council (which began reaching out toHaitithe day after the quake) was first to endorse the project. “This project and others like it not only offer needed help; they also serve as constant reminders that there is so much more that must be done. … By supporting the Haitian Memorial Pyramid Project, we are provided the opportunity to help this nation become whole again. It is a worthwhile endeavor”, wrote Mayor Alvin Brown; he reportedly expressed some interest in introducing them to Bill Clinton, whose name is virtually synonymous with the recovery effort in Haiti, and State Senator Tony Hill (who also works as Mayor Brown’s legislative liaison) also supports the project.

Having made a good, quick start to the project, Pelle looks forward to the years of hard work ahead. “Anything for the revolution, anything for the project”, he says, with the kind of positive attitude he’ll need to get it done.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; August 22, 2011

G. Jerome Jones on Hip-Hop

Jones and Justiss, 2006

[We don't often get guest posts at the "Money Jungle Safari", but this is a welcome exception. G. Jerome Jones is one of my oldest friends, a multitalented multimedia pro who's been a major influence on myself and others in the business. He's done short-stories, plays, recorded a couple albums (one with DJ Zane III, the other with Jay Cole and the late, great Alan Justiss)--but he may be best-known for his spoken-word skills. I met him in 1997 at the old Nicotine Meltdown, through Justiss, when I came to write a story about it; I met Al Letson, Nestor Gil, Matt Butler, Troy Lukkarila, Chris Spohn and others all within the same couple weeks--a good summer!

Later, Jones was a founding editor of the original Section 8 Magazine, which ultimately delivered over 1,000 pages of original "local, national and international art, music, and information" to hundreds of readers. It would be impossible to say succinctly how important he was to building the organization to the global (and, quite possibly, intergalactic) status it hold today.

Jones reads from the 8, Elevations 2000

A graduate of Florida A&M University (one of the very best HCBUs), Jones hasspent most of the past decade in his native Barbados, where he continued to crank out material while developing his own greeting card/postcard business that shows great promise to fill some sizable gaps in that industry. He’s also working on a series of new releases related to his first love, poetry.

Jones recently took time to expound on a subject central to all our lives: Hip-Hop. He helped chronicle the formative earlier years of Duval’s stellar hip-hop scene in his reporting, and was the charismatic force behind the “Elevations” hip-hop nights held at Jack Rabbits under the 8 banner a decade ago. Artists like Willie Evans, Jr., Astronautalis, Paten Locke and dozens of others (a full list would be nice) all performed at those shows. Evans debuted “Underground Utilities” there, while Astronautalis once did a 30-minute freestyle while waiting for everyone else to show up. Epic. Enjoy.]

In Retrospect: An Old Head Takes a Look Back

Lord Monsta Ty battles Triclops; Zane III on the decks, 2000.

In many circles the question is often asked “what is Hip-Hop?” or “is that Hip-Hop?”  I’m sure most would agree that Hip-Hop is steadily evolving, and has come a long way from when it was birthed in the mid to late 70’s in theNew York Cityborough of theBronx.

As with any growing entity Hip-Hop has passed through many phases in its development and sadly many of today’s Hip-Hop heads don’t know, or care to know, about these changes. Most are caught up in the now, and really, why should they care about the history? No reason. But true Hip-Hop heads care about the history if for no other reason than that it did happen and without a doubt there was some timeless music that was produced and wonderful events that took place way back when. 

To many over the age of 35 the true essence of Hip-Hop was found in the “golden era” of the decade of the 80’s. In this time a great deal took place that shaped the styles of today. So let’s rewind a bit, sit back, as I bounce around through some of the moments and happenings that make Hip-Hop the lovely thing that it is to me. Me, an old geezer on the other side of 40, who by no long stretch of the imagination is an authority of this beautiful movement, but who, like many, is just another rabid fan and, thanks to time, has seen some thangs.

THE GOLDEN ERA- 1979-1989            

A cat by the name of Kool Herc is often mentioned as the one who started it all. Herc, originally fromJamaica, would take his sound system into the parks, set-up and throw a park jam, while doing this he would sometimes talk (or toast) over the instrumental records and do a bit of mixing. More DJ dexterity came with cats like Grandmaster Flash who was basically the man who started the whole scratching deal.

From the DJ came the rapper. Names like the Sugar Hill Gang with their hit “Rappers Delight” came out in 1979 with the lyrics by Grandmaster Caz who never got the credit. Kurtis Blow whose big hit was the “Breaks” and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five also began their careers in ’79-’80. In 1982 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five dropped a bomb that showed Hip-Hop could be more than party music with their infamous “Don’t push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge…” the line that started the classic jam “The Message.” Also in ’82 Afrika Bambatta and the Soul Sonic force had a big hit with “Looking for the perfect Beat.” But it was RUN DMC who took it to the proverbial next level with their debut in ’83 – “It’s like that/Sucker M.C” and their success and “push” of the artform is still very much respected.

In the mid 80’s Hip-Hop was twisting in many different positions. New variants were sprouting from the main root. There were big tunes like Kraftwerk’s “Tour De France” andShannon’s “Let the music Play” which were examples of electro funk and freestyle or Latin Hip-Hop, but the so called pure shi8t was still being represented.

 A young, lean and hungry cat full of testosterone came forward in ‘84 with his debut “I need a Beat” and shook up the game. He was James Todd Smith, or LL Cool J as most people know him. LL was tight, but other cats were approaching it a bit differently. Folk like Doug E Fresh – the original beat box- and the group Whodini who dropped their album- “The Escape”(with classics like Friends, The Freaks come out at night and 5 minutes of Funk) also repped hard in ‘84.

The group UTFO also came out in ‘84 with “Roxanne Roxanne” and created the response trend, estimates are given that between 50-100 responses came off of that song. Another significant record released in late ’84 was 2 Live Crew’s “It’s gotta be Fresh”. This record, from down south, birthed the Miami Bass sound. In ’84 The Fat Boys were also around doing their thing and they became known as the most comical characters in Hip-Hop. Yea, Hip-Hop comics; something hardly seen in present times.

Fast forward to 1985. Many call this the last great year of Old school Hip-Hop. It was before the advent of overblown sampling. In ’85 RUN DMC collaborated with ‘70’s rockers Aerosmith and came with “Walk this way” and the early rumblings of  “gangsta rap” began with a track called “Batterram” by Toddy Tee.

A massive hit in ’85 was by the sexy Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam with their joint “I wonder if I take you home” causing intense reactions on dance floors. But it was Doug E Fresh who owned that year with his big tunes “La Di Da Di” and “The Show” which took Hip-Hop in a new direction.

In my opinion the years 1986 -1989 are the pinnacle years in Hip-Hop. I say this because so many important groups emerged in this time and so many other things came into fruition that pushed the culture along. 

In ’86 DJ Polo and Kool G Rap made their debut with “It’s a Demo b/w I’m Fly” produced by Marley Marl. The shi8t Kool G Rap was spitting back then could still rock crowds today. The Juice Crew and Boogie Down productions went to battle with “The Bridge” and “The Bridge is over” ,  and MC Lyte stepped into the mix with “Cram to understand”. Salt & Pepa represented for the females as well with their joint “Push it” and the Beastie Boys released “License toIll”. But without a doubt, the debut of Eric B and Rakim with “Eric B is President.” takes the cake and when they dropped the full length album in ’87 – “Paid in Full” everybody and they Mama was checking for this dynamic duo.

In ’87 rap began to spread strong on the West Coast with Ice T dropping an album that did some high numbers and got him a lot of criticism. Ice T showed that life on the West Coast was different from the East.  One of the most influential, controversial and revolutionary groups in Hip-Hop also stepped up in ‘87, this was the mighty Public Enemy, mixing hardcore rap with strong socio-political messages they were a shock to the system of America.

In 1988 MTV created a show dedicated to all things Hip-Hop with Yo! MTV Raps and the Source Magazine printed its first issue. NWA released “Straight Outta Compton and Slick Rick came with “Children’s Story.”

In 1989 came the birth of Hippy-Hop with the Native Tongue collective emerging. Artists that comprised this collective were people like Queen Latifah and the groups De La Soul and the Jungle Brothers. Their music promoted tolerance, respect, fun and harmony a sharp contrast from what many of their contemporaries where doing.

Okay let me, pause and admit something here. This info is readily available on the internet, that’s were I got it, and if you are interested it takes only a couple of seconds to google it up, but for me, writing this article and looking this stuff up, I must admit, was a lovely stroll down memory lane. Time traveling at its utmost. To me many of these songs conjure up images of what I was doing at the time: the chica I was checking, the different haircuts I had, the clothing styles me and my friends use to wear the different dances we use to do, the slang we use to sling, basically all the things that go into making you who you are. The memories, some of them lovely and bringing forth a chuckle, some not so lovely and bringing forth a sigh…ah the memories.

While all this was happening with the musical part of the movement the other aspects were also flourishing i.e. gaining notice among the masses and spreading.

Some of the first movies that featured break dancing where classics like Wild Style and Flashdance, these films showed audiences near and far what the kids in the NY ghettoes were up to and people took notice. Without a doubt the two main Breakdance crews at this time were the New York City Breakers and the Rock Steady Crew.

On the Graff side things were bubbling too. Although still illegal, some of the artsy fartsy crowd in the big-up art galleries in downtown Manhattan, and elsewhere, were becoming interested in the inner city art that they saw on the subway trains and on the sides of buildings, and art exhibitions started to feature some of these artists. In most Graf circles the name that often comes up at least once is the lord of Graf, Phase II who started taking Graf to another level in the 70’s.

Sadly many still think that the term “Hip- Hop” only pertains to the man or woman on the mic, when in fact Hip-Hop is the DJ, the M.C, the Graffiti artist, and the Breaker. The Four Elements. In the early days these elements intertwined and fed off of each other, the classic early 80’s movieBeat Streetshows this interaction in its entire splendor and is a good one to check if you’ve never seen it before. To me it’s fresh and innocent, undiluted by the bling  playa and gangster mentality of today.

Another movie that shows that Hip-Hop was bubbling not only on the East Coast but the West Coast as well was Breakin’ which came out around ’84 and featured two dancers- Turbo and Ozone- doing more of the “up top” dancing moves than the floor moves. Breakin’ also featured a young Ice T with his big hit of the moment “Reckless”.

THE ESSENCE

The simple answer to the question “What is the essence of Hip-Hop?” is that Hip-Hop is the DJ, M.C, The Breaker, the Graf-artist….but it goes deeper than that Hip-Hop is a culture a way of existing and expressing. It permeates the way you walk, talk, dress and view the world. It shapes the way you interact with others and is the soundtrack of your triumphs, dreams, wishes and frustrations. It’s not just something you listen to. Folk who embody the essence do more than just listen to the music they are a part of it. They are involved in the creation of all or parts of the whole. They follow the dramas and characters of it like house wives do soap operas. They discuss it and debate on certain aspects of it and they do so regularly. Simply put, it’s their religion and some folk are downright fanatical

In my life I have encountered quite a few individuals who I would say embodied the essence of Hip-Hop. My involvement with Hip-Hop culture dates back to 1984 that’s when I first became aware of it, when I bought my first album (Kurtis Blow “The Brakes”). It was new and the thing to do and I was like 14 years old and had a bit more independence. I can recall that summer clearly. 

Break dancing on a beach inBarbadoswith my cousin and some friends, in many ways that was my coming of age summer, we formed a lil crew called the Renegades, nothing much just playing around. After that summer I was in a crew with the boys from my neighborhood a crew called Rock City Crew although we were nowhere close to a city we were island boys after all. We took it a little more seriously though, battling other crews at downtown nightclubs, behind grocery stores when they were closed on the weekends, and on school compounds, moving with a roll of congoleum and a boom box we were ready.

Some of the people in my crew were my cousin Russell who was crazy on the floorwork, his specialty was swipes and the windmill. He would get so high and he was quick, nice and smooth with it. Then there were the brothers Thorne, Nigel and Ian, who were both deep into it. Nigel was the up-top man and had the perfect waves, and Egyptian Tuts, while Ian was a jack of all trades Djing and MCing along with the dancing. I remember many nites just sitting out on their front wall trading line for line scenes from  Beat Street which we had memorized or chilling in their front room listening to their old man’s  LP’s and 45’s.

There comes a time however in every teenager’s life when nothing else matters but the opposite sex and during this time I must admit that Break dancing took a back seat. When I moved to theU.S.in ’89, I was into other music as well as Hip- Hop. Going through college in the early ‘90’s I remember the different fads and dances that came, like the Polka dots and shiny black shoes and the -“ouch”- MC Hammer pants. Dances like the wop and the cabbage patch and others with names I can’t recall. I even remember riding around one Friday with my boy Harv, skipping class, just playing Dr. Dre’s The Chronic over and over again, killing the cassette.

It was only after my college days when I moved back toJacksonville,Floridathat Hip-Hop moved squarely back into my focus. Living there I met many folk who breathed it- too many to name- DJ’s with vast collections of vinyl who made beats and played at different clubs.  MC’s, with immense skill, trying, giving it all they had, honing their craft and believing the pie in the sky dream that they would get that ever elusive record deal. Breakers, full of black and blues who still pushed their bodies to the limit striving to execute that perfect move; and Graf-artists with Burners of intricate detail and tags on many surfaces throughout the city.

Along with some friends, I started a monthly Hip-Hop show called Elevations and tried to do some positive things with it. We strived to promote the culture and give it a home where it could grow, where cats (and kittens) could sell their independent product and make contacts. We also made it a point to hit folks-especially the youngsters- over the head with some new and innovative, fun ideas and also tried to provide a forum where it could get political and make changes. But more than anything Elevations was a show where the four elements could exist.  Some cool things happened and some things that weren’t so cool as well, such is life.

Lately I been working on a Play and the four Elements is one of the main ingredients in it, so I’m still doing my thing. From vinyl- to cassette- to C.D.- to MP3…..things change, that’s one fact that remains the same. But in my mind the essence of Hip-Hop is not in the tools, the trends, the flash and the posturing. Hip-Hop is in the people who live it, and when I say live it I mean they turn to it when they are up or down, not necessarily to make money off of it, although that is not a bad thing, but the rewards are basic….you do it because you enjoy it.

You hear a song, or create a song, or see a performance that gives you a lil energy boost and gets you through a tough day. You observe or create a tight Graff piece and you feel good, simple. You check a Breakdancer, or bust a move yourself, and you are still thinking about it many days later. Alone in your room you scribble verses down in your notebook and share with your bro and you both get a chuckle or little enlightenment.

On the turntables- 1 and 2- you are totally in the zone and if you at a club you get a wonderful feeling seeing the people respond to your selections, but if you are alone it’s cool  too ‘cause you totally immersed in it. With nothing in your pocket and hunger pains in your stomach you throw up your tag on a wall just to let folk know “Heh, I’m here…and I am Hip-Hop….”     

gjrome@hotmail.com

sheltonhull@gmail.com; August 19, 2011

Kim and Kelley Deal at 50: Belated Notes

Kim and Kelley Deal, ca. 1995

Kim Deal was born June 10, 1961 inDayton, Ohio. Her twin sister, Kelley, was born 11 minutes before. Dayton remains their primary base of operations, though you never know where either might be in the world on a particular day. The twins have pursued their own agenda in the music world, and what they may have lacked in ridiculous stacks of cash, they have made up for with a reliable brand name and a loyal fan base that has avidly followed their work for almost 25 years now, in countless incarnations.

For me, the Breeders were my introduction into the music of that era. What was once just called “alternative rock” splintered into shimmering shards of specific sounds that had their own imprimatur. The indie labels stayed afloat despite the most predatory practices of commercial radio and the major labels, which actively colluded to freeze out all kinds of independent and locally-generated content from radio systems and retail outlets alike for years; independent record stores and low-power stations around the country were driven out of business, in favor of big-box retailers and centrally-planned radio systems that used illegal and unethical methods to dominate, for a while.

Luckily, the combination of MTV, public radio and college radio was enough to keep this stuff going long enough for the technology to catch up with the ideas. Now the artists exist on a roughly equal (or at least roughly equalized) playing field. Another key factor was the success of certain artists not only in their own projects, but in advancing the people’s understanding of what music is. The obvious example, in regard to the Deal sisters, is Kurt Cobain (1967-1994). The leader of Nirvana was the most high-profile exponent of that basic DIY ethic he internalized from his studies of punk music, and he put those values to work on behalf of his peers.

The man was vastly more intelligent than he generally gets credit for. He wasn’t just an expert on the pantheon of modern rock music to that point, besides aspects of folk and blues, he’d put those ideas to work. It’s almost unthinkable that there wasn’t some degree of calculation to the band’s sound, at least subconsciously; he knew what fans of the future wanted to hear, because he was one of those fans himself. That much is clear from the albums; subsequent bootlegs and box-sets have fleshed out the body of Cobain’s experimentation. Much of his actual methodology was simply adapted from other sources then combined to create a synthesis of sorts.

He was always not only gracious about his influences, but actively effusive in putting them over to his fans and in the media. Cobain was an early master of what GQ magazine might once have called the “symbiotics of dress”. He is commonly associated with flannel shirts, cords and cardigan sweaters, all of which have remained in fashion ever since, but his real trick was using band t-shirts. It was a simple thing, really: He just always made sure he was representing some band he liked whenever he was in a situation where he might be photographed or videotaped, which was pretty much all the time for a little over two years. It may not have been deliberate, at first, or consciously articulated; it was part of his personal aesthetic, and he was rigorous about not being too altered by fame. But there are stories of photo shoots where he would refuse to button his shirt, so that whatever shirt he was wearing would end up on, say, the cover of Rolling Stone, or on “Saturday Night Live”. He wasn’t the first person to do that, surely, but he raised it to the high hipster art form it has now become.

Cobain famously derided his hit “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as being his failed attempt to write a Pixies song; it makes sense that he would also be a proponent of the Breeders. He was once quoted to that effect: “The main reason I like them is for their songs, for the way they structure them, which is totally unique, very atmospheric. I wish Kim was allowed to write more songs for the Pixies, because ‘Gigantic’ is the best Pixies song, and Kim wrote it.” The Breeders opened for Nirvana numerous times, including his last US tour before his tragic and unnecessary death in April 1994. If he were alive today, he would probably be very pleased with the way things turned out for music and the musicians he liked.

The “Breeders” brand-name, which is of course gay slang for heterosexuals, dates back to around 1986, when the Deals were a 25 year-old duo act making their way in the Dayton music scene. Almost nothing exists, in terms of recordings from that period, other than a cover of “I Believe In Miracles” that gets right at the sweetness of their vocal style. The Deals remain among the most prolific exponents of two-part harmony in modern music, a characteristic that helped define their first album, Pod (1990) and which has stayed a vital part of their tool-kit. Over the past 20 years, as the sisters have matured and their music become even more idiosyncratic, their harmonies have helped make their later albums undisputed classics of 21^st century indie rock.

After Kelley Deal’s drug bust, and the court-ordered rehab that ended the intial Breeders push in the mid-‘90s, it was generally assumed that the Deals’ days as a single creative unit were gone for good. Kim formed a group called The Amps, releasing Pacer in 1995; The Kelley Deal 6000 released Go To the Sugar Altar in 1996 and the seminal Boom Boom Boom!—which is probably the single-best non-Breeders record that either Deal produced—in 1997. I recall posing the question to Kelley Deal when her band played the old Moto Lounge inJacksonville that year (where another all-time favorite, the Crustaceans, opened up), and she had no idea, either.

Rumors of a possible return, and their fans’ desperate desire for a new Breeders record, lingered for over five years, until it seemed like the Deals’ place in history was as just one of the many one-hit wonders of that decade, “Cannonball” and a bunch of stuff that only hardcore fans knew or cared anything about. But then, out of nowhere, the Breeders returned with a vengeance, making up for lost time and reestablishing themselves in an industry that had changed dramatically in the intervening years. The phrase “Title TK” basically means the project has no title yet, but one will be added later; it was, in essence, a perfect title for an album that almost everyone in the world thought would never see the light of day. It was released in May 2002, at a time when cultural matters were widely overshadowed by politics and war.

For me, it was tonic for tumultuous times. By the time I had the pleasure of seeing them perform live in Chicago in 2002 (where I actually got to shake their hands, Kelley’s for the second time), the Breeders had coalesced into their contemporary form. The old rhythm section of bassist Josephine Wiggs and drummer Jim McPherson (both of whom were key to the visionary sonic success of “Cannonball”) had moved on during the band’s extended hiatus. Their replacements were Mando Lopez and Jose Medeles, bandmates who’d met the Deals in Los Angeles, and third guitarist Cheryl Lyndsey. Their professionalism took a lot of pressure off the sisters, who were now able to focus on their voices and the actual songwriting. The writing on Title TK was some of the best of the era.

The Deal Sisters, recording "Mountain Battles", 2007.

The Mountain Battles LP (2008) and the Fate 2 Fatal EP (2009) were hardly as accessible as Title TK, but continued the band’s hot streak with all the components Breeders fans had come to expect: cute, catchy sing-along tracks replete with those golden harmonies, rendered with a fidelity of their “No Wave” system. My most salient thoughts on these recordings were rendered in a review elsewhere, but I’ll note here that, like Pod and Title TK, the latter material has held up quite well.

It’s unclear when then next Breeders album will be released, or even how much has been recorded so far. But, unlike in the ‘90s, one can rest easily knowing that there will surely be another album in the next couple years, and hopefully many more. The fact that the Deals are still making compelling, credible rock and roll as they enter their sixth decade seems almost miraculous. But, then again, Sonic Youth never stopped; neither have the Beastie Boys. If the Breeders approach this new decade anything like how they approached the last one, it should be really interesting to watch. So, even though this comes two months late, Happy Birthday to Kim and Kelley Deal!

sheltonhull@gmail.com; August 16, 2011

The death of Amy Winehouse (1983-2011): Alternative Views

At this moment, it is commonly assumed that singer Amy Winehouse (1983-2011), who was arguably the finest singer the emerge in the 21^st century to date, died from either a drug overdose or a lethal combination of drugs, mixed with alcohol and consumed the night before she was found dead in her London apartment. That would make perfect sense, given her notorious history of dangerous drug abuse. But since she’s famous, of course not everyone is satisfied with that explanation. No matter what happened to her, it’s a goddamn shame and a loss to humanity, but as a public service, we’ll now parse the wealth of conspiracy theories that have emerged in recent days:

*Amy Winehouse accidentally drank herself to death: At her eulogy, her father make what many regard as a spectacularly delusional claim: That Amy Winehouse had been clean of drugs for three years prior to her death, and was only working to conquer alcoholism. The woman was known to consume massive amounts of alcohol, particularly vodka, enough to easily kill a woman her size. The list of British musicians to go out that way is a long one, including Jimi Hendrix (allegedly), Bon Scott and John Bonham.

*Amy Winehouse committed suicide: Although everyone who knew her says she was in good spirits in the days prior to her death—the phrase “happier than ever” is used a lot—surface appearances can be deceiving, especially when dealing with someone who started some days by slamming vodka shots. She had just broken up with boyfriend Reg Traviss earlier in the summer; despite his great grief and his kind words of remembrance, there is no evidence of any reconciliation. Her “comeback” tour ended in boos and tears within a few minutes of her first show. The last four years were really rough for her, and one can easily see how these dual setbacks might have sent her over the edge.

*Amy Winehouse was murdered, either by her bodyguard(s) or people who were partying with her the night before she died, for unknown reasons: Official reports say that her bodyguard was the last person to see her alive, when he asked her not to play her drums so loud in the early-morning hours; he later said he heard her walking around after that. Kelly Osborne claimed to have spoken with her for nearly an hour that night, saying she seemed completely fine; it is unclear whether that conversation happened before or after she’d spoken with the bodyguard. At any rate, he found her dead hours later, twice. He saw her unconscious in bed early that morning, assumed she was sleeping, and left her room; it’s unclear at this writing whether he got close enough to confirm that she was still alive at that point. He returned a few hours later, found her unresponsive and called the authorities, who reportedly confirmed her death within five minutes of her arrival. One report said she had “signs of life” initially, but who knows what that means. Either way, the bodyguard needs a thorough interrogation, and perhaps waterboarding.

*Amy Winehouse was killed at the direction of her record label because she was worth more dead than alive: Her recordings have dominated online retail sales in the week after she died, and one can expect that if (more likely when) the new record is released, it will probably sell millions of copies and win a number of Grammy Awards, bookending a brief-but-bounteous career. It’s thus ironic that she’d delayed the long-awaited project for years, first while publicly battling her demons and failing to write new material on schedule, and then because she was yet satisfied with the finished product. She had begun her disastrous final tour before even releasing the album, which is somewhat unusual for an artist her stature; it’s unclear if her legal issues would have even allowed her to perform in theUnited States, her biggest market. Canceling the tour after the meltdown inBelgrade may have cost millions.

What gives this theory legs (well, Amy Winehouse-sized legs) is that is has some basis in history. Courts are still working to establish exactly how and why Michael Jackson was given a fatal drug combination, either by his doctor, himself or some unknown other person. And evidence is slowly accumulating to support the theory that Hendrix’s death was engineered by his then-manager, the villainous Mike Jeffrey, who feared Hendrix was soon to fire him and who himself died in a shady plane crash just three years later.

*Amy Winehouse was deliberately given bad drugs: Anonymous friends of Winehouse reported seeing her buy cocaine, ecstasy and/or heroin from someone the night before she died, and speculated that bad ecstasy was the culprit. One presumes the London Metropolitan Police have made all efforts to indentify said dealer and roust him about sufficient to confirm or deny those theories, but nothing has been said publicly yet. Winehouse was an experienced drug user with a massive tolerance, but may have displayed the kind of carelessness that often comes with addiction, not taking much care to scrutinize her drugs or the people she got them from. But still, if you’re a drug dealer, and you’ve got a customer who’s worth millions and really likes drugs, it makes no sense to give them anything but the best. Then again, people can be malicious and stupid in spades; it’s not unthinkable that someone would poison Amy Winehouse just for shits and giggles, or to exact revenge against her or someone close to her. Things like that happen all the time.

*Amy Winehouse was killed to manipulate public opinion on the Drug War: A common conspiracist view of celebrity death, one that is not entirely absurd. We are all now familiar with the lengths to which governments will go to manipulate public opinion, and the British are, well, the British. Winehouse’s death brings the issue of drug abuse and addiction to the forefront of public debate. Her father reportedly noted in his eulogy that drug addicts in theUK must face a two-year-long waiting list for rehab treatments, unless they can afford the private clinics his daughter made such famous use of. For the singer of “Rehab” to die just weeks after checking out of one of the finest such facilities in the world looks bad for the whole industry.

*Amy Winehouse was killed by Casey Anthony, perhaps by accident: Maybe she switched-out Winehouse’s vodka for chloroform? The woman has not been seen since she was released from jail in late July, and some feel that she is capable of anything. If there is anyone in the world who might be sympathetic to a young woman who’s been verbally assaulted by commercial media for years, it would be Amy Winehouse. Anthony could probably not walk 1,000 feet in any direction, anywhere inAmerica, without being spat on, beaten or killed outright, so a foreign destination would make sense. My guess, of course, would beMexico; Casey Anthony would probably make a damn good gun moll for some media-savvy cartel boss. That would be epic.

*Amy Winehouse was killed to distract people in advance of another major terrorist attack in the US or Britain: The possibility of such attacks have been teased almost steadily for years, but reached a new peak following the death of Osama bin Laden; it was suggested that the announcement of such would serve as the trigger for terror cells already planted at strategic places in the West. So far, the only thing that’s happened was the atrocity committed against the people ofNorway, which at present shows no outward indication of being connected to al-Qaeda or any known affiliates. Which leads to an extended discussion of this, perhaps the most controversial and convoluted concept of them all:

*The death of Amy Winehouse is somehow connected to the terrorist attacks in Norway, which occurred the day before she died: This is an interesting theory, and not just because I made it up myself for sport. It links easily to many of the other possibilities raised elsewhere. Like all of us, she presumably found out about the attacks on the news; it dominated the BBC for most of her last 48 hours on Earth. Even the most cynical viewer would be sickened, seeing the aftermath of a mass-murder of children on a steady loop, and someone as sensitive as her might have taken it even worse. Maybe she partied even harder to distract herself from those scenes of horror.

But there’s a more unsavory aspect to this theory: What are the odds that her death is directly related? It’s now emerging that suspect Anders Brevik has connections toBritain, where he claims to have been recruited into some shady cabal in 2002. It is unclear when he was last there, but he claims to have been planning the attacks for nine years, even renting a farm in order to stockpile weapons, explosives and the fertilizer used to build the truck-bomb that rockedOslo. He claimed that there were many others connected with his movement, and that other attacks were in the works. Did Anders Brevik ever meet Amy Winehouse? Was she acquainted with any of the Britons who collaborated with Brevik? We will never know.

*Amy Winehouse died of natural causes as yet unexplained: Probably the most unlikely scenario of them all, which speaks to how hard she rolled, but possible. Initial autopsies were inconclusive; had she been murdered, suffered a heart attack or stroke, etc., that would have been revealed immediately. Toxicology reports are not available at this writing, but the intense public interest in Ms. Winehouse’s demise ensures a speedy yet thorough turnaround. Her father claimed she suffered from emphysema due to heavy smoking of crack and/or meth and/or tobacco. She may have suffocated herself during the kind of deep, frenetic sleep that follows a lot of partying; other media suggest that she may have suffered a seizure, possibly delirium tremens.

*We will never know exactly why Amy Winehouse died: An Ambiguous ending to a life that, to many people, just didn’t make any sense. She would have thus share yet another link to the great Robert Johnson, a pioneer of the Delta Blues and one of the most influential musicians in all of history, whose suspicious death (commonly thought to be retaliatory poisoning) inaugurated what has now become known as the “27 Club”. If the toxicology reports don’t reveal anything conclusive, it’s likely the trail will go stone-cold; Winehouse was cremated immediately after her funeral. Rest In Peace!

sheltonhull@gmail.com; July 27, 2011