Paradigm Shift

Everything has changed. Strange roads, stops, starts, unfamiliar landmarks…even my destination has been profoundly altered. I work in a different place. My office is now located in an entirely different area, requiring me to find a new route to work, and to deal with the limitations of my new workspace. Change is inevitable, and with everything that is gained, something is lost. Previously we were cramped for space and the neighboring office’s ambient noise was often distracting. Now we have far more space than we need, and the silence is deafening. Worst of all, I no longer work in a room with windows. I do, however, have an enormous amount of dining and errand-running options nearby compared to the old place, which was in close proximity to nothing of civilized consequence.

So I now find myself doing the same job, the same activities, in a new space. It’s a lot like having a new job. I’m still trying to find the best path from home to work and back. I think I’ve got it figured out – the most direct route is least often the quickest; and it looks like driving home will need to be a different route from driving to work. North Little Rock is a maze of senseless design and bumpy terrain. It may take a couple of days to refine, but for the most part I will still enjoy the simple pleasures of driving in the opposite direction of everyone else.

Perhaps tomorrow the plumbing will be turned on and we can stop walking to the Laman Public Library to use the bathroom. Only then will some semblance of normalcy return to my life. That, and the purchase of a microwave and a coffee maker.

Dressed Up Fancy

Here’s a picture of Tara and I from the Dallas trip. And I wrote a small press release with a group picture on it. I really should get my own digital camera. The one we had was kind of crusty.

Dressed up fancy

Last weekend Heather Smith and Ben Matthews got married. Two days before they asked me to play bass on a song they wanted to sing together at the ceremony. I said sure. It was “The Promise” by Tracy Chapman and it was a tricky little tune. The parts were recorded on a fretless, and probably a 5-string, but I did what I could and it didn’t seem to overly suck. So that’s always good. After that I went home to Harrison for the first time since spring. Yes, I’m a terrible son.

National Security

Another weekend in Dallas, another round of massive used CD purchases. Everything from Frank Gambale to Sloan was part of the $1-3 haul. I also got some random things without cases – like Disc 1 of Prince’s Sign o the Times. Plus my office got an award! We’re an award-winning form now. Pictures should be here next week.

In other news, let’s talk about these box cutters that keep finding their way onto planes.

Are box cutters still dangerous? Prior to the morning of September 1, 2001, the purpose of a box cutter as a terrorist weapon was to keep the passengers at bay while the pilot changes course and takes the plane somewhere else to land it. But on 9/11 a new paradigm in warfare emerged: kamikaze terrorism. Using a commercial airliner as a giant missile had never really been done before, at least in the U.S. Previously, the standard counter-terrorism procedure in the case of a hijacking was to deal with the terrorist’s demands; but when a terrorist has no demands…all bets are off.

I’d be willing to wager that from now on any American passenger involved in a hijacking will automatically assume that their plane will be used as a suicide bomb and thus retaliate against any terrorist. With this assumption, they can be easily motivated to overtake their captors because the passengers will always outnumber the terrorists. No box cutter can stop a mob of passengers dedicated to survival. Plus that mob will always be angry at the murders of 9/11. I know I will. I’d much rather die fighting on a plane that crashes into a field in Pennsylvania than die crashing into a building.

Prior to 9/11 there was a measure of trust, however small, that a terrorist would eventually land a plane safely; otherwise why would he be on the plane? Terrorists used to have demands. Now there’s no guarantee. I honestly don’t think we’ll see another suicide hijacking after what we’ve learned. Those aboard United Flight 93 learned very quickly how to combat this new terrorist tactic, and they successfully avoided the greater horrors of Washington and New York by attacking their enemies and crashing their plane near Shanksville, PA. Humans adapt that quickly.

Not So Sharp Dressed a Man

I need to buy a new suit. I suppose I’ve taken for granted that my job doesn’t require any great measure of formal dress. I mostly wear khakis and something with a collar. I haven’t worn a tie in I don’t know how long. This weekend my office is going to Dallas for the Katie Awards (a website maintained by yours truly, by the way) and it’s a formal affair. I’ve outgrown my old suit (yes, I really only own one) and several of my Oxford shirts, which is a scary proposition for me. The belt doesn’t even go around my waist anymore…I guess that’s more a comment on how old the suit is rather than any unusual weight gain on me. I’m still only 160 pounds. So anyway, I’m going to this thing, and I invited Tara up from Austin to join me. It should be a fun weekend. Hopefully I can meet up with all my Dallas people.

Next weekend I hope to get up to Harrison to see the fall colors…November 1 is the day Heather and Ben are getting married, so I won’t be able to start the drive until about 3 or 4 p.m. I realize none of this information is at all useful or amusing to you, so I’ll try harder in the last paragraph.

I’m also working on a website for Ross Rice and trying to update Jan Cyrka’s site as well. And I still haven’t finished reorganizing this site. And I haven’t updated Little Rock Guitar in forever…so little time! I guess I’ve been slacking off on the web stuff in favor of books – I just recently finished Natalie Goldberg’s Long Quiet Highway and Steven Soderbergh’s Getting Away With It. Speaking of Soderbergh, I found another copy of Schizopolis on VHS at the junk store up the street. Price tag: $1.00. Rock on. Now I need to find somebody to give it to. Who would enjoy such a bizarre film…Barry? Heath? I may give away both copies I have now that I’ve just discovered that it comes out on DVD next week.

Exclamation of excitement! Hearty recommendation to others about film’s quality. Caveat to the less adventurous that the film is initially hard to understand. Reassurance of quality.

New Mexico

Click here to see an interesting scene from the sky via MSN’a Terraserver.

Other things you can find the American desert: Sky City. Acoma, New Mexico is a place that inspires Jamie Myerson’s Sky City albums, and it’s also place beloved by writer Natalie Goldberg. The connection between these two artists is that Bassgirl Natalie gave me a Goldberg book in which Sky City is mentioned and I gave her a CD featuring a track from Jamie Myerson’s Sky City.

Today’s word is "synchronicity."

Ugly People Shoot, Score

There’s a somewhat recent adage that says, “politics is Hollywood for ugly people.”

This would help explain Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ascent to the governorship of California. Now that Hollywood has fully plugged into politics, it’s all over for the ugly folks. Ronald Reagan and Jesse Ventura didn’t count because they were B and C-listers respectively. Now, we have a bona fide box office blockbuster in office. And whatever the sad state of politics in general might be, it will only get worse when the popular kids get involved. If you thought politicians were self-serving bastards, you can begin to imagine what a wealthy actor might become when given the power to run the largest state in the union.

In other news, Stephen King has a column in the back of Entertainment Weekly now. It’s fun, and this week there’s a contest. There are 15 movie quotations and the first letter of each movie will spell out the name of a sports landmark. OK, I’ve got massive amounts of useless movie information inside me – should be a cinch, right?

Nope. I only got one quotation. The obvious one – “mother, the blood!” from Psycho. So that left me with this:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ P _ _ _

Okay…sports landmarks….well I can’t think of any beyond stadiums. And “stadium” isn’t going to fit in there. Some stadiums are called “Parks.” Yeah, “Park” fits. How about Candlestick Park in San Francisco?

C A N D L E S T I C K P A R K

That was easy. I bet Arnold Schwarzenegger couldn’t do that.

The Passion of the Yankovic

Weird Al Yankovic is a genius. He wrote a song in all palindromes. And it rhymes. It’s a tribute to Bob Dylan, sung in his vocal style. Fittingly, it’s called “Bob”:

I, man, am regal — a German am I
Never odd or even
If I had a hi-fi
Madam, I’m Adam
Too hot to hoot
No lemons, no melon
Too bad I hid a boot
Lisa Bonet ate no basil
Warsaw was raw
Was it a car or a cat I saw?

Rise to vote, sir
Do geese see God?
“Do nine men interpret?” “Nine men,” I nod
Rats live on no evil star
Won’t lovers revolt now?
Race fast, safe car
Pa’s a sap
Ma is as selfless as I am
May a moody baby doom a yam?

Ah Satan sees Natasha
No devil lived on
Lonely Tylenol Not a banna baton
No “x” in “Nixon”
O, stone, be not so
O Geronimo, no minor ego
“Naomi”, I moan
“A Toyota’s a Toyota”
A dog, a panic in a pagoda

Oh, no! Don Ho!
Nurse, I spy gypsies — run!
Senile felines
Now I see bees I won
UFO tofu
We panic in a pew
Oozy rat in a sanitary zoo
God! A red nugget! A fat egg under a dog!
Go hang a salami, I’m a lasagna hog

Of Sound Mind

I bought some old issues of Bass Player Magazine recently at Banjo Center for $1.99. In one of them I found this marvelous pearl of wisdom from iconoclastic producer/bassist Bill Laswell:

“Hundreds of years from now musicians will be laughing at how stupid we were, thinking about category and genre and style and territory and culture. It’s sound!” – Bill Laswell

Shawn Lane 1963-2003

One of the many ways in which I have been fortunate in my life is that whenever someone important to me has died, it has been expected and received with some measure of relief. I’ve had two grandparents die after prolonged illnesses and now one of my greatest musical heroes has left us under similar circumstances. Shawn Lane was the single most incredible musician I have ever witnessed. His talent was boundless and his skills otherworldly. Yes, he was probably the fastest guitar player in the world, but more than that, he was a composer of exceptional depth and breadth, a master improviser in any genre, and a virtuoso on both guitar and keyboard. After a series of painful weeks at Baptist East hospital in Memphis, including a lung biopsy last week, he lost a long fight with a variety of health conditions on Friday evening, September 26, 2003.

The man was pure music. The tragedy of his existence was that he was blessed with every talent imaginable but had no means by which to deliver it to the world at large. Through various dealings with an industry that doesn’t value pure instrumental genius, a series of shady business characters (the first of which being Maumelle’s own Butch Stone), and his own inabilities as a businessman, Shawn never got a fair break and that’s why you’ve probably never heard of him. Had this been the 18th century, Shawn would have easily found a patron to fund his endeavors and tolerate his eccentricities. Alas, the 20th century wasn’t ready for Shawn, nor the 21st.

I only met Shawn once: at Juanita’s in the mid-90’s when was playing with his trio along with Jonas Hellborg on bass and Jeff (Apt. Q258) Sipe on drums. The entire show was improvised. I’ve never seen musicians play like that and I doubt I will again. After the show, Shawn listened politely as I babbled on and on about his Powers of Ten CD and how great the show was. He gave me his phone number and said if I was ever in Memphis to call him and we would hang out. I never made the time to take him up on that generous offer, and now I never will. It was one of those many things I kept thinking I would always be able to do at some indefinite point in the future.

And now at age 40 he’s gone. His catalog is erratic – many of his best works are out of print. The full Shawn Lane discography can be found here. You can get to know Shawn by reading this 1992 article from Musician magazine. It gives a good insight into who he was, and it ends with this appropriate message:

"It’s all a trade-off in that . . . it’s time. It really comes down to time. You don’t know how much time anybody’s got left. You might be hit by a car or just drop dead any minute, so what’s more important to you? To spend all this time doing something you don’t like at all, but have a couple nice cars and a nice house, or would you rather live in maybe a less nice house and drive a less nice car, but spend your time doing what you enjoy?" He laughed, turned away and started playing "Bennie and the Jets."

Thanks, Shawn, for everything. You’ll be sorely missed.